#I have so much work to do and an entire library to rewrite but I will still stare into space like a stupid mofo for two hours min everyday

[alectoperdita]

I no longer know when anything is happening at work and I can't tell if it's because no one's telling me anything or I've checked out so hard that nothing is penetrating the fog. Both of which are bad.

#personal bullshit #is this burnout or is this lazy motherfucker syndrome? #the deadlines are made up and the sprint metrics don't matter #I have so much work to do and an entire library to rewrite but I will still stare into space like a stupid mofo for two hours min everyday #if this feels like whiny bullshit then you should see the many posts I've written and deleted without posting #it has occurred to me if I just died this stupid project would be someone else's problem wheeee! ngl tempting at this point!

[emo-batboy]

Things Battinson Totally Did During His First Year of University

Using Unhinged or Odd Things I Also Did as a College Freshman :D

Note: for this list, let’s believe Bruce was living in an (admittedly expensive and swanky) dorm because it is required for first-years, especially those entering at a young age, and Alfred told him he needed to make friends. Also yes I did every single thing on this list. I never claimed to be a role model

Bruce, to his TA: I’m so sorry I’m late to class. I gave blood a few hours ago and almost fainted on the way here, but it won’t happen again.

Signs up for a class called “Age of Dinosaurs” despite it not being required whatsoever and proceeds to work his entire schedule around it

Bruce: Your mental health is super important. If you think you should see the on-campus therapist, go see them. Friend: Fine. I’ll sign up for therapy if you sign up for therapy too. Bruce: Hold on-

Finds a loophole in his housing contract that allows him to get a pet frog, calls him kermit :)

Gets a second frog because Kermit was lonely, names it Constantine after Muppets Most Wanted, then realizes that they’re gay for each other. Wonders if the rainbow-colored rocks he got them triggered anything

Swings dramatically between calling Alfred every single day and ghosting him for weeks, cries when he realizes what he did

“Accidentally” joins the student body council, doesn’t know what he’s doing, gets re-elected anyway

Molds a dragon out of Laffy Taffy instead of doing his work

Bruce: *joins Honors, gets all A’s, takes the max amount of classes, has several minors, overachieves* Also Bruce: I’m a failure.

Breaks into a building after hours to study because NO ONE KNOWS HOW TO SHUT THE FUCK UP AT THE LIBRARY

Bruce: I will not get seasonal depression this year. Bruce: *gets real and seasonal depression that year*

Meticulously schedules his day with a color-coded planner because if he sits down for too long, the thoughts will consume him

Gives a presentation to his rhetoric class on how much he likes Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse (it is 20 minutes long)

Successfully allocates funding from the student body council to pay for free feminine products in the dorms OUT OF SPITE because someone said it couldn't be done. fuck you, Andrew

Bruce: It is not an all-nighter if I go to sleep before my first class. Friend: It is 7:30am, the sun is in the sky, and your first class is at 12:30. Bruce: But I am getting sleep.

Refuses to go anywhere without his backpack because what if he needs three notebooks at once

Loses over 20 pounds because ✨stress✨ and scares the shit out of Alfred when he comes home for Thanksgiving

Argues with his TA over the one (1) question he got wrong on his Dinosaur exam

Bruce, calling Alfred: Hello father figure. How do I do taxes? Do I have to do them myself? Also, I think I’m having a panic attack.

Joins in on a charity arts-and-crafts project that gives kids books with matching activities made by volunteers, proceeds to commandeer the project because “it’s not color-blind friendly” and rewrites the instructions for everyone

Makes a murder wall

Goes to one (1) sports game and proceeds to leave in the first ten minutes because it’s way too loud wtf is wrong with people

Professor, addressing the lecture hall: I dare you to write an essay about these two sentences. Bruce: *writes an essay about six words, gets a 100, never even read the book*

Crawls into the ceiling for some alone time

Ghosts someone after a date because he’s too scared to tell them he didn’t know it was a date in the first place and now he feels bad

Classmate: How tf does he walk across campus that fast? I go in the same direction he does on my bike, and he’s always ahead of me. Bruce: *is gay sprinting to Dinosaur class*

Refuses to let others use his Favorite Pen TM

Constantly gets mistaken for a Grad Student because he is “so wise and mature” (bestie, that’s the autism)

Alfred: *casually mentions he got into a car accident through text* Bruce: *replies with a meme while hyperventilating because he doesn’t know what to do with that information??!*

Wears a suit to one of his finals

Regularly eats non-organic food for the first time in his life, proceeds to learn about several allergies Alfred forgot to mention he has

Writes “What is a Hot Pocket?” in calligraphy and proceeds to laugh his ass off alone in his dorm because he is so exhausted he’s reached the point of delusion

Locks himself out of his dorm right before class, frantically asks the floor group chat if someone can help, proceeds to tell the nice gay man on the floor who saved him “I love you” because his social skills have hit rock bottom

Makes a little music album display next to his desk for his favorite band (Nirvana) His friends call it a shrine, and they are technically correct

Has a blacklist of people he refuses to interact with because Reasons

Counselor: What do you want to do when you graduate? Bruce: *gestures vaguely*

Refuses to take the bus because there are people in there and he doesn’t like those

Loses one of his frogs, how tf did he do that, they’re fully aquatic, oh fuck, this is probably why they got rid of that loophole a year later because unbeknownst to Bruce, he accidentally started a frog revolution in the dorms, btw he SWEARS he did not mean to do that

Has two trash cans in his room: one for the Good Garbage, and one for the Bad Garbage. Only Bruce knows which is which

Bruce: *writes a creative piece about a ship’s final thoughts as it sinks, bringing its passengers down with it* TA: Absolutely lovely, Bruce, but are you okay?

Goes on Night Walks, keeps himself safe by maintaining a level 12 resting bitch face at all times

Earns the nickname “8th floor cryptid” after pacing the halls at 3am when it’s too cold for Night Walks (honestly tho how tf didn’t he get the nickname earlier?)

Bruce: Do you think a depressed person could do this? Bruce: *has a manic episode*

Okay that's all love you BYE

#cryptid Bruce Wayne #college au #does this count if op is the au #fully nocturnal unhinged madman Bruce but make him like 17 and full of crippling separation anxiety and autism #bruce would rather die than inconvenience a professor but hE KNOWS HIS DINOSAURS #Dino class was my fav one in uni hands down #yes i am insane thank you for asking #originally this was just going to be a normal list but I kept taking from my own experience then said “fuck it I'm the captain now” #one of these was a lie tho...the murder wall was third year :/ #battinson #bruce wayne #batman #the batman 2022 #batman 2022 #the batman #battinson needs a hug #dc universe #gotham #autistic bruce wayne

[dduane]

Salutations and good wishes to you. I am an Indie Author seeking to go Pro. Some good advice and guidance might help minimise the mountain of my anxiety about doing this. I know you got your start with fanfiction, but did you find a publisher/agent through that door? [lots sneer at these days. Still] How many rejections did you suffer before you found your place in the literary world? Thanks for your time and sorry for bothering you <3

Hi there! And don't sweat it: this is no bother.

I have to apologize in advance, because my own career arc isn't likely to serve as much of a good example. In terms of how I got into this business, I'm a serious outlier.

Quickest and easiest to discuss: my agent and I got together after my first book was already bought and published. (Which back in the day was seen as a good enough way to go forward, and then still entirely possible.) He was recommended to me by one of my editors, as—like me—he was just getting started in the business: a likely-looking newcomer then scouting new talent. We met up and chatted, and it seemed to both of us that we'd be a good fit for each other. After forty-odd years of working together, we still are.

About the fanfic: (Adding a cut here so as not to carpet people's dashes with wall-to-wall text...)

What writing all that fic did for me—from about age sixteen onwards—was give me a whole lot of practice in getting the initial garbage associated with a story written and out of the way. Best to admit it here: we all have plenty of crap writing in us. And yeah, even long-term professional writers do. Whether you're at the beginning of your career or right in the middle of it, this is what "zero drafts" are for. You tell yourself the story, first time out... and routinely at this stage a lot of what proves to be unusable stuff emerges, and can be discarded in rewrite. (Of course crap writing can also emerge without warning in the later stages of a project, but there are many reasons for that, all beyond the scope of this discussion.) And you learn even more from reworking the material after you've gotten rid of the dross.

During the period when I was executing what might have been, oh, half a million words of fanfic—Trek originally, and then LoTR—and while reading a whole lot of everything, as I'd been doing since I was first allowed to go raid the town library by myself at age eight—I learned a fair amount about writing without realizing it. Some of it was simply about writing inside a set of rules. (Which I hadn't been doing previously: between eight and sixteen I was writing original fiction, mostly fairy tales.) Naturally in fanfic you have to obey the laws of whatever universe you're working in... or even if you wind up flouting them consciously, you do have to be conscious of them. But this work also led me to something that I hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about: the concept that fiction writing as a whole had rules. I realized I'd better find out what those were.

The best stuff I found out during this period was what I picked up by direct example from other writers, whom I'd immediately start imitating and then sort of leave by the wayside when I found others I liked better; at which point I'd start imitating them. (This being a great way to learn and hone new skills, and to start getting a sense of what a writer's "voice" is and can come to mean. I think every writer does this, to some extent: because it's really, really tough to learn how to write without reading. And the more extensively the better.)

I have to emphasize here, BTW, that the fanfic that came out of me as I started slogging up this learning curve was all almost uniformly terrible. All of it, mercifully, along with my earliest original fiction, is gone now: long since burnt, shredded, composted under many layers of time. Trust me, it's just as well. Gah was it awful! Nobody else ever saw the stuff, for which I thank great Thoth every time I think about it. ...What's interesting, too, in its way, was that I didn't even know that what I was doing was fan fiction. I had as yet no contact with any kind of organized fandom, and it would be a long time yet before "online" was invented. I was working in utter isolation, unaware that anybody else might have been doing the same thing. (And it's difficult to describe the sense of astonishment and joy that hit me the first time I went to an SF convention, saw fanzines for the first time, and found out that I was not alone. All unsuspecting, I'd stumbled onto one of my tribes.)

But somewhere along the line, as the years went by—as I finished high school and went to college, and then from there to nursing school, and graduated and started working as a psychiatric nurse, and kept on writing—at some point, as I started writing original fiction again, as well as fanfic, the quality of the output began to improve. The combination of constant practice and voracious reading of better writers outside my chosen genre was slowly having an effect. Trusted friends who saw this later material started saying, "This isn't bad, you should try to get it published!" But since none of these folks were writers, I didn't pay too much attention to their opinions.

I did pay attention, though, when my good friend and mentor David Gerrold said something similar on reading my first novel in 1976. And when that was bought by the first publisher who read it, I had to admit he might have had something there.

This too, though, is unfortunately also a way I'm an outlier: I haven't had a lot of rejection. (Even in my TV work, where rejection is pretty much the rule rather than the exception.) Speaking very generally, just about anyone I've pitched something to in the prose market has bought it—or if they didn't like the idea I came in with, they've immediately said "But would you like to do this instead?" And often enough, what they've offered or suggested has been something that sounded like fun. That's how I wound up doing the Star Trek: Rihannsu books, for example: they were "instead of" a Romulan dictionary. Paramount essentially ringfenced an entire AU-area of Trek and gave it to me to play in, which struck me at the time as amazing. And continues to do so.

Now all this may make me sound almost unfairly lucky. But things do tend, slowly or quickly, to balance out. Over time the universe has made up for its relative kindness at the rejection end of things by making sure I knew plenty about the non-rejection forms of writer-career pain: projects from which I was not rejected but which went terribly wrong (wheels come off a huge deal just before signing, promised actors or directors fail to materialize...), projects where I did the work but didn’t get paid, or where I was brought on board and then got fired/ghosted unreasonably or for no reason at all, or sometimes (mortifyingly) for quite good reason. And let's not forget how, as what could seem a very pointed shot across my bow when my career-vessel was just pulling out of port, half the print run of that very-much-buzzed-about debut novel wound up being pulped in the warehouse because another, far better-established writer's new book needed the pallet space that mine had been taking up. (insert rueful smile here) Believe me, entropy is running, and will catch up with you one way or another. So make yourself as ready for it as you can.

I don't mean to increase your anxiety. Yet that said: you're preparing to enter a business in which, for a freelancer, at least some level of anxiety is more or less part of the basic ground of being. You are going to have to develop ways of dealing with the everyday forms of that to keep it from routinely derailing your work.

I find it helps a little if you can come to consider this as a modern form of Going On An Adventure. Good things will happen; bad things will happen; and all of these will be in service of building your career. Think of yourself as being on a quest.

Your job now becomes the business of suiting up with the best equipment and advice you can find (ideally not from outliers like me). The web is full of useful pages on subjects such as how to query and how to find an agent.

Here are links to some.

Compare these resources one against another to see how their different kinds of advice seem to stack up, and which ones are the most congenial for you.

Then use this data to start drawing your personal roadmap across the terrain. Get as clear as you can in your own mind about what you're trying to get out of being in this business: what kind of writing you want to do and what results you want to produce. Then set out, redrawing your road map as necessary as you keep moving forward through the new terrain.

And I wish you good fortune on the journey! (Because luck, as you can see from the above, can definitely be part of this... but fortune favors the prepared.)

Meanwhile, get out there and have a blast. :)

#writing #writing advice #fanfic #rejection

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [14]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 15,441

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse, description of withdrawal, mentions of scars, jason's self-hatred, hurt/comfort, a little blood

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: Because I decided to start fixing things last chapter, I had to rewrite this entire chapter lmao so I'm sorry it's late!! I also split this chapter into 2 parts because it was over 30k words please help lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The next morning, Jason shoots awake from a nightmare but outside of the initial panic and rumbling heartbeat he almost feels too accustomed to, he’s confused. His eyes are on the dresser on the opposite wall and it takes him a minute to process how he even got here. The last clear thing he remembers is choking and not being able to breathe because Crane drugged him. Jason sucks in a few breaths, brows pulling together as he shakes the nightmare away and tries to piece together details from last night.

It’s all a little foggy and jumbled but he remembers being duct taped and Crane saying something about destroying the Titans and then you. Then he remembers the pump station, being tied up there. Then, he remembers you completely suited up and your hands on his cheeks, panic in your eyes.

Jason’s heart thunders again, realizing it was you that brought him back here.

You came to find him.

His head feels like it’s going to explode. A migraine is kicking in his skull as if it’s armed with a battering ram. The more he tries to remember details, the more his head hurts but he tries away. And he looks down, realizing he’s not in the Red Hood gear anymore but he has no memory of changing. Something about missing large pieces of time is scary and frustrating. So much could have happened and he just has no memory of it. And he’s thinking something went wrong, maybe he did or said something because you aren’t here and he knows what happened with you two. But, if you showed up to save him, you wouldn’t just leave unless you had a good reason. You’d always stay to make sure he were okay and then you’d probably tell him off and leave. But, you're not here.

What did he do now?

He puts his head in his hands, groaning loudly. His head starts to spin and his stomach cramps into knots. It twists and turns sending him into a nauseous spin. His bones feel wrong, like they want to vibrate out of his own skin and he feels sweaty but he’s cold. He’s frustrated and alone and devastated and going through withdrawal and everything sucks. He really had to go fuck it all up. Nothing was really all that bad, not compared to how it is now and he’d do anything to go back there. At this point, he might even take the paralyzing fear and panic attacks.

Jason sucks in a breath, lifting his head before he looks to the side of the mattress to try to will himself to get up but that’s when he sees a piece of paper. He plucks it up, unfolding it.

“Kidnappers: 0 You and me: 4              - Y/n <3”

Jason’s chest feels warm as a small smile starts to tug at his lips. Of all the things you could write in a note, it would be that. His eyes stay on the note and maybe you did have to go for another reason. If you were that mad at him, you wouldn’t leave him a note, not this note anyway. So, Jason folds it into a small square and puts it into the pocket of his sweatpants before he wills himself to get up.

Jason makes his way down the large staircase as his head feels like it’s wobbling. He knows withdrawal is tortuous. He knows that but he really didn’t expect it to feel like this. As much as he tries to not think about it, the only thing he wants is the drug. It’s the only thought that’s coming through clear as day, taunting about how much better he’ll feel if he just takes it. His head won’t feel like it’s exploding and he won’t want to peal his skin off of his bones. The cramps will vanish and he won’t feel the shaking in his hands anymore, just like old times. The back cramp will go away and his leg won’t be in pain. Jason knows it’s a bad idea, based on last night, but it’s growing more and more tempting with every step he takes down the stairs.

“Wow, you look like shit.”

Jason jumps as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, eyes shooting up to the bench in front of the end of the staircase. You're lying there, your phone above your face and your knees are bent, feet planted on the bench.

You didn’t leave?

“Fuck you.” Jason mutters, brows knitting together as he tries to figure out what the fuck is going on.

Why didn’t you leave?

You glance back to him from the corner of your eyes and he does look terrible. The dark circles are back, more prominent than they were the other night. The light in his eyes is gone and he’s really pale. He looks like he might actually be sick and you think his cheeks look a little more hollowed than they did before. His hair doesn’t even have the same volume that it normally does and it breaks your heart.

He’s going through it now and this time there actually might be nothing you can even offer to do to help. At least before, you could just offer to listen and be there for him. That was always something but this is different. He’s just going to have to ride it out and you feel horrible for it.

You grin softly to yourself, typing away at your screen before you sit up, planting your feet on the floor. “It’s true.” You shrug your shoulders. You bend down, sliding a white box out from under the bench before you pick it up. “Got donuts, picked up a few of your favorites.” You hold out the box for Jason but his stomach just twists at the thought of food.

“Not hungry.” He nearly grimaces as he looks to his own shoes.

You nod, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, it’s called withdrawal. You should eat anyway. You need some sugar, hence donut. Plus, dough is filling. It might help.” You extend your arms further. “Eat.”

Jason hesitates, looking to the right before he hangs his head, letting out a sigh and then walks over to you. You're one of the most persistent and persuasive people Jason has ever met and he is under no condition or mood to try and even argue with that. You’ll win anyway. You always win in some way. He sits beside you while you open the box, giving him one of the four donuts that are left. Jason raises a brow, wondering if you've eaten.

“Here.” You grab a bottle of water from the side of the bench and hand that to him. “You also need some water.”

Jason takes it from you slowly as he grows more and more confused. What the ever-living-fuck happened last night that he does not remember? The last thing he knew, you two were not speaking. You might have rescued him but this is weird, even for you. You're sturdy in your beliefs and sturdy in your own words. You're being awfully nice and it’s freaking Jason out. He’s starting to think he might be running a fever and maybe this is all just a very vivid dream. You have no reason to be this nice to him at the moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You question, your brows furrowing together as Jason just looks at you as if you're some sort of math problem he can’t figure out.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jason finally asks, looking at the donuts and then back to you.

Your heart skips a beat and you knew he’d be confused. That’s a little bit of why you're doing it. A little bit of payback for the hell he’s been putting you through. But, if you wanted to be brutally honest, the guilt of saying you were giving up him is eating at you from the inside out. It is one of the only things you think about because it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean it because Jason thinks you do. Why wouldn’t he? You literally said it out loud. And then he got kidnapped and drugged. You don’t want to abandon him, drug or not. And last night you got to see a part of the old Jason you thought maybe didn’t come back when he came back to life. You thought maybe, the pit kept a part of his soul. But, last night, he was him. Drugged and high, but him. The Jason you know and love. So, you're here, being nice and making sure he’s eating and getting water because he should have someone in his corner anyway.

Last night, Dick said you and Gar did a good job and you suddenly understood Jason’s entire motive. The weight of the world was placed on his shoulders by Bruce and made worse by being a replacement to Dick. That wasn’t Dick’s fault, but he could have done more. And it was never about having someone to help him lift the weight, it was always about Jason needing to find his own footing outside of the approval of who he looked up to most. That’s just…a lot easier said than done. He needed the one person who gave him everything, not to abandon him but he did anyway. You understand his motive and you're thinking, abandonment is the worst possible option for him. It always was. And you should have known, because it was always the worst option for you, too.

You offer a cheeky smile, faking it entirely. “Is it freaking you out?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Jason snips.

He’s thinking he’s either running a fever, he’s hallucinating, he died again, or he’s in some type of coma thanks to the drug Crane gave him. This whole thing just feels weird and the you he knows would be telling him off and calling him a shithead for getting himself into this mess and then immediately saying it wasn’t actually his fault. Jason knows it is. But, you always tell him it’s not. This time though, you're just offering him food as if nothing happened the last few days. He would love if you two could just move on as if nothing happened, but the reality is that it did happen. Last night and the night before happened. You aren’t nearly as forgiving as he is.

You let out a laugh, leaning your head back. “Good.”

You do not want him to know how worried you are about him or about your own guilt. He’s already going to have a rough few days getting the drug out of his system and you don’t want to make it any worse. At this point, the only thing you want is for things to go back to some type of normal. You know you have to talk and sort it out but you want to feel normal, without all the weight, for just a few minutes even. You want a break from everything. And Jason was always your safe haven when things got too heavy and too loud. He was always good at carrying the weight that didn’t belong to him and blocking out the noise.

Jason's face drops but a smile slowly creeps onto his face. “Are you fucking with me?”

You snicker softly. “I mean, you do need food and water, but yeah.” You nod your head. “I’m always fucking with you.” You say softly as you roll your shoulders.

Jason’s entire chest starts to swarm with a vibrating warmth. “Fuck you.” Jason quips, a gentle smile on his lips before he picks up a donut, eyeing it softly. The last thing he wants right now is food.

“Just eat it, Jay. It’ll help.” You say softly, seeing the hesitation on his face.

Jason shakes his head and he needs to do anything else and not eat, or at least try to distract himself to eat. He can’t concentrate on much but he’s curious enough as to why you're still here. You're fucking with him as usual, but he does not deserve your kindness or you trying to take care of him. He should be doing it on his own, after everything he did. To all of you. This isn’t right. Yet, you're still somehow here.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Jason asks.

“No.” You answer simply, swinging your feet slightly. “Gar came to bring me clothes so we went to get some food down the street real quick and got extra for you. Came right back though just in case you woke up.” You explain, looking back to him with a soft smile.

You didn’t want to go far. You didn’t want Jason to think you would just up and leave again. It has to be different this time. Jason was an apologizing mess last night and being held captive is traumatic. You were never going to leave without making sure he was okay and seeing if he did want to have that conversation for real. It might be heavy but maybe it’ll make things kind of, sort of, normal again. But, Gar insisted on breakfast and you weren’t going to disappoint him again.

“Why the fuck did you come anyway?” Jason asks before he finally gets the courage to take a bite of the donut. “You said not to contact you and shit.”

He doesn’t say it out of spite this time. He says it because it’s true and as mad and as hurt as he was, he also gets it. Now that he’s sober, he doesn’t even blame you. He thinks you should have done that from the start, even if it’s killing him on the inside. The last good thing about him was you and he destroyed every part of that. You don’t deserve that but you're here anyway. Offering him food and acting normal. One of the things he always really liked about you is that he could never really figure you out.

You turn your full attention to him, your heart sinking with any hope of having that conversation today. If he doesn’t remember anything, he doesn’t remember what you said or you seeing his scars or helping him or him asking you to stay. It’s not that you want him to remember any of it. In your opinion, he’s lucky not to remember most of it. Maybe he won’t see it that way, but you do. Even if it doesn’t quite work out for you.

“You don’t remember much of last night, do you?” You ask and Jason shakes his head shamefully. “I’ll always come find you.” You say casually but your voice is just above a whisper. “You’d do it for me.” You shrug easily and your words make Jason look to your neck where he can see the silver peaking out from under your hoodie. “You, uh, you said to bring you here so I did. You asked me to stay so I did. You, uh, you….you were apologizing a lot so I said we could talk later if you still wanted to.” You tug your sleeves over your hands.

Jason nods his head, slowly making his way through his food with a few sips of water. That explains a lot actually. He isn’t sure exactly what he was like last night, but he’s imagining it wasn’t too pretty if he had to ask you to stay. And maybe having a conversation is why you stayed, a sense of hope, maybe. If you're willing, he’d love to talk about it for once but his head also hurts and his spine feels like it wants to crack out of his back. The withdrawal is making it hard enough to even have this conversation with you. He thinks if you’ll talk, it should be when he can actually participate properly. You deserve that much.

“Thanks for staying.” Jason says quietly. “Don’t fucking deserve.” Jason lets out a scoff as he shakes his head.

You furrow your brows as you turn to face him, pulling your knee on the bench so the bottom of your shoe rests against your other leg off the bench. “You know, you should know by now that I think you deserve the world, Jay.”

“Why?” Jason huffs and a part of him is getting pissed that you even think that. Do you not understand the gravity of the things he’s done? “Look at what I’ve become!”

“It’s not really you.” You say softly. “And I know you know that.” You nod your head quickly. “But you never thought you deserved better. I know shit gets bad for you and always has been. But, that shit never mattered to me. You did.” You say and Jason thinks he just swallowed his own heart. Did? “Do.” You state firmly. “You do. Anti-fear drug you isn’t the real you.”

Maybe the anti-fear drug version of him isn't really him but Robin wasn't either. Living in a fancy mansion with money and everything he could have wanted. Following directly behind Bruce and Dick, trying to fill their shoes when their viewpoints are so wildly different. Bruce can try all he wants but Batman was born from vengeance. He got to go home to a cave underneath his fancy mansion with all of his tech Jason couldn't even dream of touching before. Bruce was raised by a fucking butler that was still on Bruce's payroll. Batman was born because Bruce's rich parents were killed in cold blood. And Bruce had all of the means to make Batman happen. That's great, Jason fully believes that's great, but it's different.

Bruce didn't see the dealers or sex workers or the pimps or addicts or traffickers in the flesh. Bruce didn't see that some of those people "breaking the law" were just doing what they had to do to survive because the system was never meant to help them. Jason might have some resentment towards his dad for everything, but he also knows his dad was trying because job after job didn't work out like it should have. He was down and out, but he tried. He was an asshole and he was abusive, but maybe some of how he ended up like that was circumstances. It doesn't make it right, but maybe that's part of it. Jason understands his dad was trying to provide in some way and it turned him into an abusive prick and then it got him killed.

Jason knows his mom's addiction didn't help and it didn't make her the best mom. But, he also knows that that was her way of trying to provide because she used to use to function and the addiction set in. She took them to survive in her own way. His uncle drank to survive. That's how it is sometimes. And that's what he saw, everyday, and not just from his own family. It's what he knew and he also grew up knowing, no one is going to help them. Not even Batman. They are on their own.

Jason grew up knowing sometimes people do "bad" things in order to survive and provide, but Bruce never saw that first hand so his morals on Batman are entirely skewed and bias for the sake of upholding the law and putting "bad people" away. But, Jason's views were always landing in a grey area that not all "bad people" are actually bad and deserve to be thrown away. Robin gave him magic but he also had to give up some of his own morals and beliefs in order to wear the cape and mask.

Robin was never really him, either.

“Robin wasn't the real me either.” Jason scoffs.

Your eyes narrow softly at him because it's such an odd comment coming from him. Robin was everything to him before and maybe you do get it. It got him killed, it's different now. There's a lot of bad blood stained over Robin but...you don't entirely think that's true.

“That’s not true. The whole, mansion shit, yeah.” You laugh softly. “But, wanting to be the voice for people who get left behind? Yeah, that’s still you, Jay.” You shrug your shoulders. “You always liked kicking ass, people who deserve it because they did something wrong. Not because you like to fight. I mean, you’re argumentative as fuck, but physically violent, not so much. It’s a misconception that you play into because it’s easier than letting people see the real you or whatever. Robin let you be this hero and you had to roll with Batman and shit, but…you got to help people.” You shake your head. “Like me.” You clear your throat. "That's you." You offer a soft nod at him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

As far as Jason can see, he's never really helped you. Not really. He thinks he's only made everything worse. Between getting kidnapped and making you lose sleep and dying and now everything else. He's pretty sure you were always better off without him. How the hell do you think he actually helped you?

“How the fuck do you figure I helped you?” Jason shakes his head and he definitely is not well enough to be having this conversation.

You think of every way Jason has saved your life, some of the times a little too dark to share with him at the moment. But, you think about them and you think about all the other times where he's helped you, even with small stuff like getting something down from a cabinet. You've never told him but you think one of the reasons you are who you are today is because of him.

You pull the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. "I felt like maybe the stuff with Jerry was my fault. Spent a lot of time thinking that but...one of the first things you told me was that he was a piece of shit and I didn't deserve it. You didn't even know me. But, it helped and you never made me feel like what happened to me was ever my fault. And uh, you trained me so I wouldn't be scared to leave the tower. Maybe the knives is a thing...or maybe it's because you trained me. Sparred with Gar the other day, I still won. Because you trained me." You suck in a shaky breath, pausing softly. "Um...and I just...I'm alive today because of you." You nod at him once, seeing Jason's face wanting to twist to question it. "So, maybe Robin wasn’t completely the real you, but Robin was enough of the real you. You put yourself into Robin. And you can put yourself into Red Hood. Without Bruce. Without Batman.” You rush your words, making sure Jason can't get a word in. “So, I guess, I’m just saying that you always deserve better, even if you don’t believe me. And I just hope you understand that one day, Jay.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me any of that before?" Jason asks, turning to match your position as his right shin touches yours.

Truthfully, it all seemed too honest. A little too scary to tell him what kind of impact he had on you. It’s more than that, there’s more you haven’t told him as a way to protect yourself and maybe even him. You always felt if you told him those things, maybe it’d change. Maybe it would change how he viewed you and maybe it would change how you felt he viewed you. Maybe he’d feel some sort of obligation and you hate when people feel obligated to you for something. You should know Jason never does something for someone strictly out of obligation, but you feared it anyway. And if you told him, what happens when he doesn’t come home?

Saying everything out loud makes it real. And he didn’t come home anyway.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know.” You keep your thoughts to yourself, knowing if you think too much about everything, the tears will start again. “Uh…I’ll always stay if you ask me to.” You nod your head softly.

Jason watches you carefully and he could always tell when there was more on your mind but it looks like it is physically paining you to even talk about it. The guilt starts to take over and Jason wants you to not be in pain anymore. He'll take it if that's what he has to do, he doesn't care anymore.

“You really shouldn’t.” Jason nearly mutters the words.

You know him better than anyone and that was always what he feared. You know him better than anyone which means he’s more susceptible to getting hurt. He’s already hurt himself enough for the both of you but then everything with Excellent Gotham happened and now you're the one torn between him and everyone else. He’s hurt because you're hurt and that’s all this is turning into.

Maybe a small part of him regrets the two of you, as thankful as he is you're here. As much as he appreciates your company and your kindness, he has crossed the line and maybe had you never gotten together, you wouldn’t be the one in pain. Maybe had you not gotten together, this whole thing would be easier for him. He wouldn’t feel like he let another person down and pushed them to their very brink of existence. He wouldn’t feel like he exposed himself too much to the elements. He’d still feel safe in his bubble of self-destruction and self-hatred. It wouldn’t hurt you.

You're too good anyway.

So, he pushes out of some painful mix of self-preservation and self-destruction.

“You know, uh, I think about that…night with Deathstroke.” You swallow thickly. “Not…not the kidnapping so much anymore but…after.” You stress, looking to your leg and picking at the hem of your pants. “In the bathroom and I don’t know. You pushed and gave me every reason to, uh, to run like I usually do and I know…we did do what we do best in the end but…not…ya know?” You shake your head, looking back at him. “You pushed and I stood there anyway and told you that you matter to me. And it was like…the first time I ever felt like I could stay…if you’d have me.”

Jason’s heart starts to ache from inside of his chest like he’s just been stabbed. Did he make you feel unwanted? That was never it. He was just scared and pushing always seemed easier and you never put up a fight about it. He thought you were on the same page of pushing and running. You both did it until you couldn’t. The risk of everything you both ever feared didn’t seem to matter anymore so you both decided to stay and Jason can’t decide if that was for better or worse. But, he’s looking at the distant look in your eyes and he’s thinking maybe it was for the worse for you. You always made him better.

“Even as a friend. Like I said, I agreed with you and we did what we do best.” You shake your head. “And you did.” You nod your head. “You showed up to my room the next night and I just…” You suck in a deep breath, looking up to the ceiling and back to him. “I knew I could stay. I didn’t have to run from you.” You tug your sleeves over your hands. “So, um…I know you want to,” You nod your head with understanding but your heart is breaking with every second that passes. “But, can…can you please not push me away this time? Please, Jay.” You offer him a sad and weak smile as the lump in your throat starts to grow. “I know things are complicated right now but you’re my best friend and I really miss you.” Your voice cracks as water starts to brim your eyes.

Even after everything, you have a way of getting him to cave. Pushing has always been his best defense mechanism. It has always worked and it has always been easy. It has always hurt him, which was fine because at least it was self-inflicted. But, you make the whole thing hard because it doesn’t just hurt him. It hurts you, too. And Jason knows how badly it hurt when you left. Maybe part of making amends is letting go of bad coping mechanisms. Maybe it’s doing things that hurt and are scary. He does love you and he does miss you, too. He’s tired of being alone and he’s tired of being in pain. And he's tired of putting you through pain. So, he nods.

“I miss you, too." Jason's voice is rough and low but honest and sincere, earning him an almost relieved sigh from you. "I just fucked everything up this time.” Jason says quietly. “Really fucked it up.” Jason nods. “With you and the Titans. How the fuck do I come back from that?”

“You apologize and get clean.” You shrug. “I mean, I’m the only one who really understands it so you just…have to try.”

“That’s it? I try and they welcome me back with open arms?” Jason scoffs at the thought. It’s never that easy. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

"I mean, I'm still welcome to be a Titan and I'm killing people. All of you almost killed Gar." You nod your head quickly. "So, they have to welcome you back because otherwise they're just hypocrites." You offer him a cheeky smile. "You just have to try, Jay. And if that doesn't work, then fuck em." You shrug your shoulders sarcastically. "You still got me and you got Gar." A genuine smile comes to your lips as you rest your hand on top of his.

Jason thinks the simple act alone just lit his entire body on fire so he smiles back, subtle but there. "Yeah, alright." Jason manages a soft chuckle as he shakes his head. “When are you going back?” Jason asks softly, not really wanting you to leave.

“Oh…uh, well, you were just drugged so I thought…I’d hang around if that’s okay.” You chew the inside of your cheek as you pull your hand back into your lap.

Liar.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Jason asks bluntly. “Don’t pull that bullshit about how you’re just worried about me or whatever. Something’s going on.” Jason can always tell when you're lying and he swears part of that is because you almost never do.

You chew the inside of your cheek and he’s right, something in going on. You've been thinking a lot about how you finally understand it. The whole Bruce and Dick thing. You finally get it and you actually hate it. Of course, understanding Jason is always nice but you hate that you feel that way. Every day since you've watched Jason deteriorate over Robin, you swore you would never be like him or Dick and yet here you are. In the same damn position. And you won’t let that happen. And the more you sit and the more you think about it, the more you wonder if the reason you threw in the towel over Jason is because of your obligation to the Titans.

You have a bigger obligation to Jason and yourself but maybe that played a little bit of a hand. Maybe your loyalty runs a little deeper than you thought because Dick saved your life and brought you into this world. But, you don’t want that. Something has to fucking give and you're not sacrificing your views or your morals anymore. Maybe it’ll be for the better and maybe it’ll be for the worse, but at least you know you're doing something you can live with. At least you're doing it because it’s what you believe in.

You're also still a little mad that Dick was willing to sacrifice Jason if last night wasn't a trap and Crane went off the deep end. There is still that.

“I am, uh, mad at Dick. Shocker, I know.” You crunch your nose before rolling your eyes. “But, um…he said we did a good job last night and I just…felt so validated and I hated that. Because it was more than just being validated, it was being validated by him. And he said it could have been a trap and he's right but he didn't fucking stop me from going. It could have been a trap and I could have been killed, blah blah blah, right? Well, he let me fucking go alone. He didn’t pressure Gar for information. So, I just…I don’t wanna go there. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore fucking anyway. So…yeah.” You rush your words, trying to play it off because you don't particularly want to talk about it.

“So…you’re mad at Dick so you’re just...switching sides?” Jason questions, not really sure he understands why you would do that. "And what the hell would you have done if it were a trap? Hate fucking saying it, but he's kind of right." Jason nearly grimaces at the thought of agreeing with Dick, but it could have been a trap for the Titans. You had no way of knowing otherwise.

“Was I ever really not on your side?” You quip. “No, it’s…” You suck in a breath and you shrug your shoulders. “I know that if you stay off of the drug then you’re you again. That’s where I want to stand and I want to be here when you are clean. You’re where I always want to be.” You nearly whisper. "And, if it were a trap, I knew that if I showed up, you'd do everything in your power to get me out of there. It would never be a trap for me, just the Titans. So, I wasn't worried. I know Excellent Gotham was an accident. Shit happens, but I'm almost always safe with you and I know that." You offer a soft but closed smile. "You and me."

Jason pauses and he thinks back to the day he walked onto the roof. He thinks he’s starting to feel that way again. Worthless, useless, damaged, broken, unloved, unworthy, filled of poison. Everything comes back to him. But, he’s sitting next to you and he also remembers you that day.

You were the only one that stood up for him and you were the only one who came out to the roof to try to talk him down. You're always the only one, if he has no one else, he has you. And he remembers you literally telling him that if you're alive, he’ll never have to be alone. You broke up with him and he’s still not alone. Maybe you're crazy for it but Jason knows in order for you to still be with him, in any context, you're having to sacrifice a lot. In order to make sure you keep that promise to him, you're the one sacrificing yourself and your friends. For some reason, you believe in him so maybe it’s time Jason takes a step back and starts sacrificing, too and believing in himself. If you can, he owes it to you to try, too. It’s supposed to be him and you.

"I'm still really sorry for that." Jason lets out a breath. "But, next time, can you bring someone with you in case it is a trap?" Jason lets out a soft laugh. "I'd never let some shit happen to you but, just in case." Jason nods head quickly, the white streak flopping around slightly.

You let out a laugh as you look down and then back to him. "Yeah, okay because you asked so nicely." You say sarcastically.

Jason shakes his head but his chest is starting to feel a little better. “I’m gonna make it up to you, alright?” Jason says sternly. “Don’t know how yet, but I’m going to. I fucking owe you.”

You offer a soft smile. “I expect a lot of homecooked meals and for you to drive me around.” You nod as a cheeky smile starts to come to your face.

Jason lets out a soft laugh, tilting his head down before he looks back you. “I’m not your personal fucking chef or your chauffeur.”

“Could be so fun, Jay.” Your eyes widen as you shake your head teasingly at him. “Um…” Your brows furrow. “Withdrawal sucks and I know you know that. So, um…if you want to go to Crane and try to get one or two inhalers so you can ween yourself off instead of cold turkey, I get it.” You nod your head. “Um…I mean, I can help if you want.”

Jason nearly does a double-take. “This whole time you’ve been telling me to get off of it and now you’re telling me you’ll help me take it?”

“I also don’t want you miserable.” You state. “I can like hide the inhalers for you and monitor when you get more.”

Jason pauses for a second and maybe it’s a bad idea. The drug makes him a skeleton of who he really is but this is torture, just sitting here. He’s not really sure how he’s supposed to deal with feeling like this for days or maybe weeks. He doesn’t know how long this withdrawal is going to last. All he knows is that it is fucking exhausting and painful. But, maybe if you can help, he won’t fall back into Crane’s hands. If you're willing to stay, he can try.

“Yeah, then I'll be fucking done with his psycho ass.” Jason clears his throat. “Feel like fucking shit.” Jason scoffs. “Meet back here then?”

You nod your head softly. “Yeah, I gotta get back and let Gar know what’s going on, I guess deal with Dick. Blah blah blah.” You laugh softly. “Just…text me if something happens.” You get to your feet. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid until I get back.”

“Don’t do anything fucking stupid while you’re gone.” Jason quips. “Ya know, like using the R blades to kill some fuck.”

You gain a cheeky smile. “Hey, you’re still wearing a bat symbol.” You point at him. “I’m just being an asshole, just like you. Learned from the best, bAbE.” You snark right back at him as you watch him gain that half-cocked, toothy smirk that always made you feel alive. “I’ll be back and try not to take it until I get back.” You nod once at him, keeping your own smirk before you turn on your heels and head for the exit.

You head back to the manor, knowing Dick and Kory will want to know where Jason and Crane are. If you were being honest, you're surprised Gar has been able to keep it a secret. You know it’s a very big ask for him not to tell Dick where or the password into the tablet which you had Gar bring you when he came by just to be sure Dick didn’t get into it while Gar was gone. Letting them know where Crane is, is all fine and well, the issue comes to Jason.

While you appreciate that Dick thinks you and Gar did a good job, there is still a bitterness hugging your chest about the whole thing. It shouldn’t have been up to you. You said you were done and you should have been able to be done but not when no one else is going to do something. You know you never would have taken a backseat anyway, not with Jason being kidnapped and held hostage, but it should have been an option. Jason was in trouble and it was Dick’s responsibility to do something about it. You don’t know where Dick’s head is with Jason now so the last thing you want is for him to know where Jason is hiding out and where Crane is. The last thing you want to do is even work side-by-side with him anymore and if you were a worse person, you’d just kill Crane now and get it all over with. Dick could deal with the cleanup if there is any to be had.

You stop right into your room as soon as you get to the manor. If you're going to help Jason and you're going to stand beside him, you want to be physically there. If you're ditching the Titans, then staying here isn’t really an option. So, you pack a bag with clothes and a charger for your phone before stopping by Jason’s room and picking a few of his favorite pieces of clothes and books. Once you have everything you need, you make your way to the Batcave to grab the case for your suit and extra knives and blades.

Dick, Kory, and Gar are all in the Batcave when you make your way down there. They’re surrounded by the Batcomputer, coming as no surprise to you. But, then they all turn around, eyes landing on you and you tug your backpack harder over your shoulder.

“Yes?” You ask softly.

“How is he?” Gar asks, hope in his eyes as he spins in his chair and gets to his feet.

“Going through withdrawal, looks like shit.” You huff before sucking in a breath. “Got him to eat a little bit though.” You offer a soft smile.

“Does that mean he’s done?” Dick questions.

“Done with the drug, Crane, or Red Hood? Because I’m thinking those are three different answers.” You quip, holding a bit of snark in your voice.”

“All three.” Dick’s voice grows defensive and you were fine last night. Suddenly, you hang out with Jason for one night and you have an attitude again? Seriously?

“No, yes, and probably not. Didn’t talk about Red Hood.”

“Wait, he’s gonna keep taking it?!” Gar practically yells in confusion.

“No.” You answer simply, shaking your head. “He’s just getting a few more inhalers so he can ween off it instead of cold turkey. Withdrawal is bad enough.” You look to Dick who looks like he’s about to have a stroke. “It was my idea if that helps.”

“What?!” Kory and Gar yell at the same time.

“Why would you encourage him to keep taking it?” Dick grabs the bridge of his nose and he's thinking you should have come with migraine medication when he found you in the alley.

“Because quitting some drugs cold turkey can kill you and I don’t know if Crane’s drug falls into that category or not and neither does he. I’d rather we not find out the hard way.” You answer simply, rolling your shoulders.

Gar finally notices the backpack and his heart starts to sink. He’s really hoping you're just bringing Jason some of his stuff and you're not leaving. They’ve already lost so many people, he doesn’t want someone else walking out on them. He knows it has to be really hard for you, but it’s hard for everyone.

“Why do you have a backpack?” Gar asks cautiously.

You tug it over your shoulder a bit more. “Um…I’m gonna stay with Jason for a bit.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I promise, I was not leaving without telling you. I’m just trying to make sure he’s gonna be alright.” You roll your shoulders and a part of you almost offers to let him come with.

It could be just the three of you again but you would never put Gar in a position where he feels like he has to choose between you and Jason and the Titans. Inviting him, feels like it would put him in that position. And you have no idea what Jason would think of it anyway so you bite it back.

“Are you sure?” Gar asks.

You nod your head softly and you don’t want Gar in the middle of your annoyance with Dick. You know you’ll get over it eventually anyway. “Yeah, maybe I can get something out of him anyway, about if Crane is planning something big and if so, what.” You play it off, realizing this does give you that opportunity.

Dick nods once. “You could just tell us where he’s hiding out and where Crane is.” Dick states simply.

“No.” You shake your head as you start walking over towards the display case where your suit is still in the suitcase beside it.

Dick turns to face you, annoyance written on his face.”Excuse me?”

“I said no.” You say simply. “If you want to argue about it, argue with yourself cause I'm not anymore.” You shrug your shoulders.

Dick sucks in a breath and he can’t believe you’re really doing this again. “Fine, can we speak privately?” Dick asks.

“Come on, Gar.” Kory walks up to Gar, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go find Conner and Blackfire.” Kory offers a soft smile before they walk off.

You grab the suitcase, walking back towards Dick and then past him. You're ready to get out of here and you know this is going to cause more problems than it’s maybe worth. But, at the end of the day, you swore you’d protect Jason at all costs. Too many people left him exposed to the elements, and you're not going to do that. Dick had his chance to help, too and he left the both of you in the pouring rain and wonders why you’re feeling abandoned.

“I thought you were on our side.” Dick shakes his head. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” Dick asks, this time his voice sounding a little bit more concerned and you almost feel guilty.

“Dude, come on.” You scoff. “I’m on whatever side gets Jason home and safe. You should know that. Nothing happened I just….” You shake your head. “You could have fucking helped last night and you didn’t. For all we knew, Crane could have lost his shit and was gonna kill him.”

“But that didn’t happen.” Dick states. “You said last night he was just tied to a chair and you got him out of there. You and Gar worked together and you both did a good job last night. You didn’t need help.”

“It’s not about if I needed it!” You yell in desperation. “I fucking found his body! Do you really think I’m just fucking fine with that now that he’s alive? Do you really think I want to find him like that again? On my fucking own? That’s what you set me up to do last night. Yeah, he was 'just' tied to a chair, but I also know that fucks with your head, too. He’s your brother who needs fucking help but the only people who are willing at all costs are Gar and me. So, no.” You shake your head. “I’m not gonna tell you until I know he’s safe. You can figure it out and I’ll talk to him anyway. But, I’m not telling you.” You look to the right and then back to Dick. "Did you ever think that he just needs you to show up for him and not out of obligation? Bruce isn't here and this wasn't your fault like Deathstroke. Jason Todd is not hard to figure out."

Dick hangs his head for a second, realizing maybe you make a good point. You shouldn't have had to be the one to go alone. But, Dick didn't even think of the possibility that Jason could have been in real danger. He didn't think of what would happen if he was and you were the one to find him again. Dick's realizing maybe, just maybe, Crane might have had a point a few days ago. Maybe he did abandon Jason.

“I’m sorry.” Dick admits, catching you off-guard. “You’re right. It shouldn’t have been up to and I didn’t think about that.” Dick looks to the ground and back to you. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately and we’ve all been through a lot. This is hard for you. We all just want this to be over. I should have gone with you.”

"Thank...you?" You question, a little confused where this version of Dick is coming from. "Look, I think any risk is worth saving him. Last night, though, you made me think that isn't the case for you. So, I can't tell you in order to protect him. But, I'll try to get information about Crane anyway and tell you." You nod your head, swallowing your own pride. "I still want Crane dead and you want him brought in, so we're on the same side there." You start to walk towards the stairs. "Anything else or...can I go?" You ask, feeling, for some reason, obligated to.

"You can go." Dick lets out a sigh. "At least keep up with Gar, he's worried about the two of you." Dick warns, having to suck up his pride, too and put some trust into you this time. You offer him a closed-mouth smile before giving him a thumbs up and heading back upstairs.

Jason is making his way to the pump station where Crane is setting up for their next steps and his teeth grind while his heart races. He swears he has to be running a fever with his head feeling warm, heavy, and cloudy. He isn’t sweating but something about his skin feels like it’s almost been dunked into a pit of oil and it makes his skin crawl. There’s an ache in his back that isn’t painful but isn’t uncomfortable like it’s on the verge of a paralyzing cramp that just won’t come. His hands are starting to shake and the only thing he wants is the damn drug.

There’s a bit of worry in thinking about the drug though. He can’t be who he has been over the last week. He cannot go back to that but he is desperate and scared. Everything is in agony and the guilt is starting to weigh his feet down. The regret feels like cinderblocks resting on his heart. He’s scared he won’t be able to stop and he’s scared if he goes right back to the drug, Crane will get him right back under his wing. He finds himself thinking maybe that’s why you offered to help anyway. So, Crane couldn’t manipulate him anymore. If the only person he’s talking to is you while he’s high, then he doesn’t have too much to worry about. You're not going to manipulate him into killing innocent people. That’s all Crane. So, he sucks up his fear and walks right in, ready to nearly demand the drug from Crane.

Crane has a jackhammer in hand, trying to get through the concrete on the floor. Jason watches him with more aggravation starting to flood into his system. Jason walked in with a mission, sights set on getting one or two inhalers and that’s it. But, he’s standing here and all he wants to do is scream. The anger side of withdrawal is peaking through and he’s thinking he’s going to finally snap if Crane doesn’t hand over an inhaler. The jackhammer is making the headache worse and the shaking starts to intensify. He doesn’t really care about anything else as desperation starts to take over.

“I need more!” Jason yells over the sound of the jackhammer. He thinks his head might explode if Crane doesn’t knock it off.

Crane stops and rests the jackhammer on the ground before looking up to Jason. He gains a delighted smile as he walks closer to Jason, stretching his arms out to his sides.

“You’re back.” Crane says before gesturing his arms inward. “Come on, bring it in.”

The last thing Jason wants to do is hug him. This insane psychopath kidnapped him, drugged, and held him hostage. Jason’s ex-girlfriend had to rescue him. And Crane thinks Jason wants to not only be around him but hug him? He’s lost his fucking mind.

“I need another inhaler, Crane.” Jason demands, keeping his footing a few feet away from Crane.

“Well,” Crane starts as he plops his arms back to his sides. “You’re gonna have to cook it yourself. I’m fresh out.” Crane states as he goes to turn around.

Jason's heart plummets and he’s desperate for more. Crane just can’t be out. He’s the one that’s been having cooks make it. How the fuck is he out? He can’t just be out. So, Jason starts walking closer, spotting a large drum barrel.

“What about that?” Jason points to it.

“That…is too concentrated.” Crane states. “Deadly in its uncut form.”

Jason can feel himself growing more and more aggravated and panicked. It’s more than just the fear creeping in but instead, it’s the fear of withdrawal and the idea of never having the drug again. That’s what he’s starting to panic about. He knows he’s getting off of it. He has to if he wants to get some part of his life back. Crane isn’t stable and while he’s helped him this far, last night happened. Jason needs to get off the drug but he really doesn’t want to do it cold turkey. This is literal hell right now.

“This is a fuck show.” Jason lets out an annoyed sigh as he starts walking closer to Crane to pass by him and leave.

“Jay.” Crane states but it’s more in a warning tone. Jason wants to combust, the nickname sending the anger from the withdrawal into a spin. No one calls him that. “Jaydog.” Crane lifts his voice this time as Jason turns around to face him. “Take heart, my friend. We are just a few swift strokes away from the sweetest comeback the world has ever seen.” Crane leans over on the jackhammer, a menacing look in his eye. “I mean, they’re gonna make a biopic about us. How we met, our ups, our downs…”

“How the Titans wiped us out?” Jason cuts him off knowing the Titans are coming after them and Crane doesn’t seem to be much help.

You can say whatever you want but right now, he’s still being targeted by the Titans because he’s spent the last week targeting them. Jason doesn’t think for a second he can come back from that. That’s why you're suddenly with him through this. A barrier against the Titans.

“Do you remember why we’re here?” Crane asks.

“The details are hazy, Crane. You zombified me, remember that?” Jason quips back and that part is biting at the back of his head.

Crane didn’t have to do it but he did it anyway. He drugged him, held him hostage, then kidnapped him and brought him here. He didn’t even offer a good explanation. But, Jason falls back on him stealing the inhalers from Crane and maybe he deserved some part of it.

“I do remember.” Crane states simply as he furrows his brows. “Well, um, quick refresher course. So, this pump station is perched directly above Courtland Valve station, which controls all of the water supply for all of Gotham. I take my little friends there and I dump it into the water supply and…” Crane states as he fires up the jackhammer again but as he does, he loses control and it goes sputtering to the floor.

Jason bursts out laughing, enjoying the look of shock on Crane’s face but his laughter starts to die down when Crane also starts laughing. Something about the look he gives Jason and the way he laughs, it almost reminds of him Dr. Light when Jason had him pinned. When Deathstroke held a sword to your face. And suddenly, he’s worried again.

“You think that’s funny?” Crane asks through his laughter. “Just wait until you see what we’re gonna do to Gotham when we’re done here.” Crane says as he circles around Jason, standing behind him and wrapping an arm around his neck as he chuckles. “Gotham is going to destroy itself.” Crane boasts as he walks back over to his place by the jackhammer. “House by house, family by family.” Crane laughs and Jason doesn’t want that.

It was never supposed to be about destroying Gotham. It was about protecting Gotham. Doing the things Bruce would never do and couldn’t do and refused to do. It was about actually taking care of the people in the city who aren’t on Bruce’s radar, the people who get left behind by the GCPD. It was supposed to be about them, not this. This isn’t what Jason wanted to do.

“This plan is a fucking joke, Crane.” Jason states. “And so are you.”

“Me?” Crane questions and Jason thinks he might sound a little hurt. “But I reached over to the other side, dragged you back to the living…” Crane states and you were the one who said Crane was using him. Maybe you're right.

Up until this moment, Jason thought that couldn’t be true. Why would Crane use him? Crane’s been telling him this whole time he cares about him and he wants to help him in the way Bruce and Dick refused to help and couldn’t help. They could be a team, better than Batman. But, if Crane wasn’t really using him, why would he bring up bringing him back from the dead? Which Jason never fucking asked for anyway.

“So you could use me.” Jason states a sort of venom in his voice.

“Yes, so I could use you.” Crane answers nonchalantly as if Jason should have known the answer.

And Jason’s heart sinks further. It was never about helping him. It was about helping Crane help himself. You were the one who was right this time. Crane has been using him this whole time. Jason’s been a pawn in his game and it stings. It’s the same story over and over. Jason gives him all to someone and something and it all ends up backfiring, they use him and throw him away like he’s trash. Just like this.

“Life is transactional, my dear boy.” Crane states. “Well, I gave you life. You gave me secrets about Batman and Dick Grayson and the girlfriend, er, ex-girlfriend? And uh, what was his name? Hank?”

Jason has had it. Today is not the day to mess with him and Crane bringing up him betraying everyone for him is setting him off. It never should have had to be transactional. Yes, Jason should have known better. He knew the exchange was secrets for the formula. It was the drug and then they’d work together. Jason knew that part of it but he didn’t think his life was a part of that transaction. He doesn’t want his damn life to be transactional. He doesn’t want to sell himself for a drug and secrets and the destruction of Gotham and the Titans. That’s not who he is and that’s not who he wants to be. On top of that, Jason’s sick and tired of Crane thinking he can just bring up his one line and get off. You were always supposed to be off limits anyway and everything is sending Jason right over the edge.

Jason grabs Crane by the collar and spins them around, slamming Crane’s back against a few boxes as he holds him there. He’s done working with Crane and letting Crane think he’s the one running the show. Jason is not going to be his pawn anymore. If he wants to take down Gotham, that’s on him. Not Jason.

“I’m done telling secrets!” Jason yells, jaw clenched and knuckles turning white. “Done being fucking used!” Jason yells as he punches Crane in the face twice and then lets him go.

Crane looks up at him, something menacing and bored in his eyes. “You done?” He asks as he spits blood onto the ground.

“Almost.” Jason states plainly. “Bring her up again and I’ll fucking kill you.” Jason says harshly, his jaw squaring and a burning hatred washing over his usually bright eyes. Crane opens his mouth to say something but Jason moves forward and uses most of his strength to take another hit to Crane’s face, this time the hit is enough to knock him unconscious. “Now, I’m done.” Jason says as he leaves Crane on the ground and heads out, desperate to find something that’s going to take the edge off of everything that’s clouding him right now.

He’s supposed to meet back up with you, but at this point, he’s not sure he can stomach it. In the moment, it seemed fine. It was nice not to be alone and to not feel so alone. But, right now, it’s as if he swears it’s the only thing he really deserves with the withdrawal kicking in full force. You will try to make it all better and he knows for a fact he doesn’t deserve for it to be better again. He needs to figure out what he’s going to do and how. How he’s going to come back from everything. You just said he had to try but he doesn’t know how to try. What he’s become goes against everything that’s been engrained into him over the last few years.

Bruce swore killing was wrong and using excessive force was wrong. But, now Jason is the one with guns killing people and decapitating them just for extra threatening measure. Maybe he didn’t always agree with Bruce’s point of view but that’s what a hero, a vigilante, Robin was supposed to do. Not kill. Not use excessive force. There was one way and one way only. Jason was murdered anyway and he thinks maybe, this isn’t all wrong because it is for the greater good of Gotham. But, it haunts him anyway because of how he got here, what led him here. He was murdered and Bruce couldn’t kill the Joker for him and his death was preventable. His death was preventable in every way but he died anyway. He’s the one left with those physical and mental scars, not Bruce.

Jason thinks it’s different when death happens to you. But, Jason didn’t go after Two-Face. He didn’t go after Mr. Freeze or Penguin or Bane or the Riddler. Jason went after the drug side because of Crane. Maybe he would have done it anyway, but it was because of Crane so Crane could run his own drugs without them getting in the way. It wasn’t about protecting people. It was about distribution. So, he thinks about his younger self. The younger self that took care of his mom and didn’t entirely hate his dad for everything. And he wonders how much his younger self would hate who he’s become.

His younger self would hate the killing and the drugs and the betrayal. He’d hate turning from a hero to a villain and he’d hate how he went and fucked up such a good thing with so many people. Sure, the Titans weren’t always nice or understanding, but they had smoothed things out. And things did feel okay with them. And he was safe and warm and healthy and he had someone, he had people, who cared about him and tried their best to take care of him, something his younger self would have loved to have even if he never admitted it. Jason could have had it all but it just wasn’t enough. He was selfish and entitled and impatient, just like Dick and Bruce said. He was hard-headed and stubborn. It got him killed and it got him put in this position and he thinks his younger self might think he were better off staying dead.

Maybe he would be.

So, he digs out of his phone and sends a quick text to you. And then he waits.

An hour later, Jason sees you walking towards him as snow starts to fall from the gloomy sky. He swallows the lump in his throat as you get closer. You offer him a soft smile, hands dug deep into your pocket once you close the distance between you.

“You know it’s freezing, right?” You quip, seeing your breath in the space between you.

He didn't say much in the text. It was just that he didn't want to sit around the hideout and he needed to be out. He followed that text asking if you'd want to walk with him for a while.

“Yeah, and I’m still fucking sweating.” Jason rolls his shoulders, shaking his head.

“Ew.” You laugh softly. Jason’s eyes narrow at you as you shrug, a gentle smile on your lips. “Thanks for texting me.” You nod your head once.

If you were being honest, you're surprised he did. A very large part of you expected him to not come back to his hideout and avoid you. You really would understand if he did at this point. It has to be really difficult for him, especially coming down from both the anti-fear drug and whatever Crane gave him last night. But, you're really glad he texted anyway.

Jason lets out a breath, a cloud leaving his lips from the cold air. “Thanks for coming.” Jason nods.

“What’d Crane say?” You ask hesitantly, seeing the brown paper bag in his right hand.

“That he’s fresh out.” Jason scoffs. “Load of shit, obviously.”

“What a piece of shit.” You scoff right back. “He fucking sucks.” You roll your eyes, split between worried something bad is going to come from cold turkey withdrawal and relieved the risk of him falling back into Crane's hands is gone.

“Yeah.” Jason nods his head in agreement before the two of you start walking with no destination in mind.

“He say anything else?” You ask.

Jason bites back the pain in his chest and the burning of his eyes with your words. It’s a harsh reminder that he was never brought back because he was wanted. He wasn’t brought back because he was loved and cared about. He was brought back to be used and it was all always conditional. There were conditions to his life. His own breath was traded for secrets and death and betrayal. How can he live knowing his life is now tainted with innocent blood?

“Yeah.” Jason gets a distant look in his eyes as he brings the covered bottle to his lips and takes a drink.

“Which was…?” You ask softly, almost afraid of what Crane could have said.

“That he was using me the whole time.” Jason spits the words out and you swear you can see his eyes start to water against the city streetlights. “You were right.”

“For the record, I really wish I weren’t.” You scoff. “What? He just he was using you…just like that?” You question and you know Crane is a prick and he uses people. But, Jason really believed in him and that's the part that hurts.

“Pretty much.” Jason shakes his head, sucking in a deep breath as if the cold air biting his vocal cords will make it easier to talk. “Bringing me back was transactional.” Jason’s voice goes quiet and you think you heard his heart break.

You knew before, but this is further confirmation that Jonathan Crane is a monster. You're looking at Jason Todd who always just wanted to be enough and just wanted to be loved and Crane weaponized that just like Bruce. But worse. You knew Crane didn’t bring Jason back from the dead out of the kindness of his own heart but you're furious and devastated to be right. You're pissed that he would even tell Jason that.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” You mutter, looking forward which earns you an immediate glance from Jason.

“Why? He didn’t do anything.” Jason nearly mocks the very idea.

“Because he just told you that the reason you’re alive is because he needed something from you.” You bite back, a venom and fury in your voice as you look at Jason. “That’s fucked up. I don’t care if it’s true. You don’t tell someone that. And I wanna kill him anyway for everything he’s done to you. But, that’s a good enough reason to me.” The anger in your voice actually surprises Jason. Of course, he's hurt by the ordeal, but he's watching you grow more and more angry over it. He's never had someone be like over something someone else did to him.

“I don’t know why it even fucking matters anymore. I did all of this shit for him.” Jason huffs taking another drink. “How it always is anyway, right?” Jason lets out a hollowed chuckle. “Like I told you, people always want something in exchange for something else.” Jason mutters and he thinks Crane has a point. Life is transactional, he just wishes his literal life wasn’t.

You stop walking, Jason walking a few feet in front of you. You hadn’t thought about that conversation in months. It was the first time you ever promised him something. You promised you’d never make a promise to him you couldn’t keep and you’d never make one just to get something from him. Then he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about the boot print bruise on your back. Things did not seem so simple then, but they sure as shit do now. And your heart starts to break even more, realizing that he really, truly trusted Crane. You have no idea why but he did. That’s not for you to judge but he trusted him and Crane only brought him back because he needed something from him. He is just another person that has made Jason Todd feel like there is some sort of condition to his love. And that’s just not fair.

“What?” Jason asks, turning around to look at you.

“You know I love you still, right?” You ask quietly.

Jason shakes his head in confusion, eyes darting up the sky and then back to you. He isn’t sure exactly how to respond to the question. You told him you do. That’s not the same as him believing you though. It’s hard for him to feel like anyone actually loves him right about now. He doesn’t even like himself right now. And with everything Crane just said to him, he’s thinking that maybe you're just saying it so Jason doesn’t walk onto a roof.

“Jay?” You ask quietly. “You know that, right?” Your eyes scan over his face but you don’t see any sign of him acknowledging the question. “Okay, well, I still love you.” You nod your head with confidence. “And if I would have known how to bring you back, I would have done it. Because I love you and I care about you and you deserve to live.” You close the distance between you. "And...you don't owe me shit for it, either. I don't expect anything from you. It's not conditional or transactional for me, okay?"

The last thing you want is for Jason to feel like he's unloved. It's messy as fuck right now and he has a lot to make up for but he's loved anyway. Crane loves to manipulate people and make them feel like they're alone. You can't imagine what the fuck telling Jason he wasn't even wanted back would do but you have to believe Crane had a fucking purpose. So, it doesn't matter where you and Jason stand or what's left of you. You will stand here in the freezing cold all night with him and tell him you love him. Because on days when you felt unloved and unlovable, you had Jason who always countered those thoughts without ever knowing. So, you will always do the same. He deserves it.

Jason’s breath starts to shake as he looks down at you and his chest hurts. He thinks someone might as well be reaching through his ribs and squeezing his own heart until it explodes. You're the only one that has ever made him feel wanted and loved without conditions.

“After everything?” Jason almost scoffs but he can’t quite bring himself to. You look desperate. “Fucking why?” The question almost comes out as a plea.

“Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” You nod your head once and this is different than the first time you said it. 

The first time was on accident and you were very clearly terrified. It was something you never intended to ever tell him but it slipped out in a fit of desperation so he’d stop beating himself up. This time though, it is said with confidence and reassurance as if the words were almost meant to leave your lips for only him. And it starts to defrost Jason’s heart, the pain easing in his chest because he knows you mean it.

Jason rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closing and it’s like it's easier to breathe again. He wants to kiss you again. It’s never easy for him to say what he thinks or what he feels but he’s always been able to show it with you. This time though, that is no longer his place. It doesn’t matter that you love him because you are broken up. He can’t overstep that line even if he wants to. The most he can do is rest his forehead against yours and that’s always been just enough.

A smile pulls at your lips before you wrap your arms around his shoulders, moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck. Jason’s hands come to your hips and suddenly, it’s like the first day of spring. The air isn’t suffocating or painful. It is fresh and clean, smooth and soft. It’s easy to breathe again and the suffocating coldness lifts from your chests. All it is is warm and welcoming. Just like home.

“Thank you for coming.” Jason mutters into your neck.

“You and me.” You mutter right back, Jason’s hands squeezing around you just a little tighter.

You pull away first, a loving smile on your lips and for just a second as you rest your hand on his cheek, you almost forget you ended things. This, right now, feels like it did before he died. And you almost forget and you almost kiss him to make it all not so heavy. But, it’s just a second and then you remember which means that isn’t your place anymore and you don’t know if it ever will be. So, you drop your hand, the smile falling slightly. You look to your left, sucking a breath but then your brows furrow.

“Is that Dick?” You question, bursting the bubble between the two of you.

Jason turns, following your stare. “Fuck.” Jason groans just as Dick seems to spot the two of you, too because he lifts the face shield of his helmet.

“We should get out of here.” You reach down for Jason’s free hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

“Yeah, fuck that.” Jason nods quickly in agreement as the two of you start to walk away but before you could get far, Dick tries to run the red light after you only to get hit by a car going through the green.

You and Jason look between each other before you both let out a breath and start your walk over to Dick to see if he’s okay. You both walk over as Dick rolls over to face you. You roll your eyes and grab your phone from your pocket to call an ambulance while Jason looks down at him. He finds the whole thing a little ironic. Dick is on the ground, clearly out of it and hurt and he could kill him right now. He’s been trying for a week to kill Dick and now is the perfect opportunity but the only reason he’s even thinking about it is because of the irony. He doesn’t even really want Dick dead. Not when he’s clean.

You kneel down, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Ambulance is on the way, I texted Kory and Gar to let them know. You’re an idiot.” You nod at him.

“What…?” Dick asks, looking from you to Jason and then back to you. Dick knows he has a concussion but he’s lost on why Jason is just standing in front of him and why you don’t even seem mildly concerned about what’s going on. What the hell is going on? “Jason?”

You look behind you and Jason’s heart sinks. “Yeah?” You question, looking back to Dick. “You ran into oncoming traffic.” You state sternly as you hear sirens starting to approach. You can see the lights just down the street. “Don’t do anything drastic like die on the way to hospital.” You say softly before you get back to your feet and walk back to Jason. “Let’s go.”

“What? You’re gonna leave him like that?” Jason asks with surprise, that’s unlike you.

“The ambulance is right there.” You point to the flashing lights. “He’ll be fine.” You nod your head once, reaching down for Jason’s hand once more, this time Jason takes it carefully before the two of you head off in the opposite direction.

The two of you get back to Jason's hideout, not having said much to each other on the cold walk over. You both convince yourselves it was all out of self-preservation rather than self-destruction. You follow Jason to the room he led you to last night where he plops down on the mattress still laid out on the floor.

Something about it feels weird because feelings are out in the open unlike before. They were said last time and something came from it but this time, they're words hanging in the air, following them back. Jason doesn't know what to say anymore and you think you've exposed yourself too much again. Nothing can happen between you now, not with everything going on and even if you both want something happen, is that for the best?

It's like something should be happening in the space between you but nothing does because it's all been said and done before. Neither of you quite know where you should stand or where you should lay your hearts to rest. So, it feels weird and it's quiet, both of which are things neither of you like very much between each other.

You shift on your heels, looking around the room. "I, uh, I brought you some more clothes and...stuff." You say softly, nodding towards your backpack near the dresser. You had dropped it off earlier when you were supposed to meet back here.

"Oh, uh, yeah no thank you." Jason nods his head at you and the awkwardness makes him want to chew his own arm off.

"You're welcome." You suck in a breath, looking around the room some more. "Not quite Wayne Manor, huh?" You ask, looking back to Jason.

"It's a roof." Jason shrugs a shoulder casually.

He should have said it back and he knows he should have. But, the words stick to the back of his throat, holding his vocal cords captive. While he gets it, he is still hurt by you leaving him. He knows he deserves it and you had every right to. You should still be gone. He gets it. But, he can still hear the heartbroken laugh you let out echoing in his head and the words that followed and it fucking hurts. He's forgiven you already but...the pain is there anyway. Jason knows he'll get over it but he isn't there yet so the words choke his vocal chords and the air is stiff and awkward between you.

"Yeah." You nod your head before you look back at him. You cannot take this anymore. It has almost never been awkward between you and you can't stand it. The whole thing would be easier if it were easier to just talk about everything. But, that seems too heavy right about now. So, you walk over to your backpack, plucking it from the ground. You walk in front of Jason and crouch down, unzipping your backpack before you pull out a book. "I thought it might help." You hand it over, your hands shaking slightly.

A soft smile starts to pull at Jason's lips as he takes the book from you. "Raided my whole room, huh?"

You grin, mostly to yourself. "Yeah, kind of." You laugh softly. "Brought these, too." You smile widely, pulling out a few more books and handing them over.

Jason looks over his favorite books, you picking up Pride and Prejudice and Frankenstein for him of course, but the pick of The Fellowship of the Ring does not go unnoticed. Jason really likes it, sure, but there are other books he's read more around you. He almost laughs at you grabbing this one. And something about the whole thing, makes him feel loved again.

He looks back to you and your eyes are bright just as they always were around him and your smile is turning into something cheeky, as if you know you've just won something Jason isn't aware of. You say loving him is easy and he always finds it so hard to believe, especially right now. But, he looks over the cover of the books and then back to you, and it really is just that easy to you. And while you may need to talk eventually and this whole thing is fucked up and messy, maybe some sort of feeling of how it used to be, would be nice.

He always felt loving you was the easiest thing he'd ever done, too.

So, he smirks back at you.

"You don't have to try so damn hard." Jason quips. "Fucking try-hard."

Your jaw drops as you let out a laugh. "Fuck you! Look who's talking! You're the biggest fucking try-hard I ever met!"

"Bullshit!" Jason laughs. "You were the one who told me with Deathstroke that I wasn't trying hard enough!" Jason fires right back, hoping he can get you to keep laughing. He's really missed your laugh.

You burst into a fit of laughter, almost forgetting about that comment he made. You told him he was the one that needed to get laid and he told you he'd been trying. The comment was never brought up again. Partially because Jason was dropped fifteen stories and partially because it wasn't worth the risk of bringing up if it was a serious comment or not. But, you find the whole thing funny now.

"Well, it was true!" You bite back. "You were an asshole half the damn time!" You know, asshole or not, all Jason had to do was ask and you would have gotten right into bed with him without a second thought. Not that you will ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that though.

"Playing the long game, babe." Jason defends his stance, a smirk dancing over his face as he gestures his hand out to the side.

"I'd fucking say!" You let out a chortle.

"Worked for a while, didn't it?" Jason says and it almost grows sour on his tongue but that's not how he meant the comment. "I mean, had you practically begging a few times." The smirk switches into something sinister and teasing. The confidence radiates off him just like it always did before and you think you could go back and forth like this all night and maybe it would fix everything.

You feel heat start to rise to your cheeks. "Okay listen."

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter and you think it's still the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "Uh-huh. I'm listening, babe. All fucking ears." Jason nods his head quickly, knitting his brows together but the smirk is practically glued to his face as if he knows he's just won.

"Fuck you." You nod your head quickly, shrugging your shoulders. "I fucking won! Remember that? I do so everything else, bullshit. I won." You cross your arms over your chest.

Jason's smile starts to soft and tender as he nods his head. "Yeah, guess you did." He says softly.

This feels normal. It feels like it did before, just joking. Sure, being together was better because you could joke and know something else was on the other end of it. The joking as friends was always just fun and that's how this feels again. Fun. And warm. It doesn't feel so heavy at the moment and neither of you feel so alone and you can see it in the way he looks back to the books. You can hear it between the lines of his words because Jason Todd doesn't take losing lightly. You don't particularly want this moment to end. Instead, you want to push it a little bit. Letting him know silently that if even a small part of him is willing, maybe there's hope to get back to how you were before.

"Exactly." You match the softness of his voice. "And you know what, I bet I could get you to cave again." You hold your head with confidence.

Jason pauses for a second, narrowing his eyes at you, unsure if this is a trick. "You really sure about that?" Jason challenges, taking the bait as he leans forward towards you slightly. He, for one, is not going to risk this getting heavy again and you always had a habit of backing out when he actually challenged you.

It's not just you who's been craving this. He has, too. Your game always made him feel wanted and loved and cared for, even before he realized it. That's part of what made it fun for him. And maybe it's too soon to jump into it and maybe you have other things you need to sort out first, but that's not a tonight problem. Tonight's problem is finding a way to deal with the withdrawal and self-hatred burying itself into his bones. Tonight is just about existing with each other for the first time since he's been brought back.

You meet Jason right in the middle, closing most of the distance between you. "Positive." You nod just once.

Jason glances to your lips and then back to you. "I'll take that bet."

You shake your head as a soft laugh escapes your lips. "Alright, Jay. Bet's a bet." You roll your eyes, sticking out your hand and Jason shakes it. "I will never let you win because you will be surely insufferable."

Jason lets out a booming laugh. "Absolutely. I'll never let you live it down. Glad you understand that."

"Shut the fuck up." You lean back on your hands as you roll your eyes. You pause, watching him take a drink from the bottle he's been nursing. He doesn't look too uncomfortable now and the awkwardness has evaporated into ease and comfort. "Hey, Jay?" Sam calls softly.

"You told me to shut the fuck up." Jason quips, not missing a single beat.

"Insufferable." You repeat casually as you nod your head quickly.

"What?" Jason asks softly.

"Wanna read to me?" You ask as hesitance starts to take over your voice. Jason's smile turns soft as he looks to the bottle in his hand and then back to you. He knows he will always read to you whenever you ask. "I mean, if you're up for it. I know you said you feel like shit. I can...try to read to you instead, if you want."

Jason almost forgot he felt like shit. You have always known exactly what to do to distract him from everything horrible going on. It makes him feel even worse over the whole ordeal because while a distraction isn't always the best coping mechanism, it would have been better than everything else he ever did. You always knew how to make the world not feel so heavy and you do it even now and Jason doesn't even think you realize you do it. You just do as if it's in your nature. And he feels better. Somehow.

"Come on." Jason jerks his head towards the bed as he puts the bottle off to the side before grabbing one of the books. He slides himself back until his back hits the cool wall.

"Really?" You ask with hope in your eyes.

"I owe you, yeah. I can read to you." Jason nods his head once before he opens the book, trying to play off how fast his heart is starting to race.

You smile widely before you climb onto the bed with him, sitting right next to him on your knees. You hesitate for a second because it's not like it was before. Before, you were friends. You were at least friends. And maybe you're friends now, but you're also exes and that feels like it makes it complicated. Last night, Jason was high and devasted. That was different than this. This suddenly feels personal and vulnerable again and you aren't sure you're supposed to be here like this. Not when you broke him.

"You gonna just sit like that or?" Jason questions, a tint of hope in his words because he wants you closer, he's just not sure if that's too invasive now. So, he plays it off just as he's always done as if that's a signal to you that it's okay because you always understood that part of him. "Not gonna fucking bite you." Jason quips, a tint of sarcasm in his voice. "That's your thing."

You shake your head, doing a double take. "Um, last time I checked, you were into it." You blink at him just as Jason looks back to you. He gains a shit-eating grin, shrugging his shoulder slightly. "Yeah, exactly. And you fucking branded me once, remember that?" You point out the time Jason littered you in hickies.

Jason's head hits the wall behind him as he lets out a booming laugh, the sound reverberating off the walls. His nose scrunches and you think he's never looked more at peace right now. It's as if he is so proud of himself.

"Yeah, and you were into it, too." Jason lets out a scoff and you want to both kiss and bite the smirk off his face.

Jason looks back to you and you're sitting close, faces just inches from each other. You're looking at with him the fake scowl you always did when you knew you wouldn't have any type of comeback and you'd have to cave and tell him to go fuck himself. But, then Jason sees the corner of your mouth twitch into something cheeky and taunting. And he swears he has never been so captivated by someone before.

"Yeah, I was." You nod your head, throwing Jason the bone as you laugh.

"Fucking exactly." Jason's voice is low this time, brows pulling together.

You glance to his lips and you almost just bite the damn bullet. But, that might ruin what you're doing right now, so you roll your eyes. "Fuck you." Sam scoffs as Jason gains his signature triumphant grin.

"Time and place, babe." Jason beams right back at you.

"Insufferable." You repeat as a warm smile replaces the smirk. "Okay," You suck in a breath. "So, we lay like we always did before?" You ask, chewing the inside of your cheek as your eyes widen slightly with hope.

It hurts a little bit that you're hesitant and Jason knows that's on him. You've never been hesitant in showing him physical affection. Even the first night he read to you, the only reason you stood there is because you were confused as to what Jason was doing. But, the second he asked you to sit, sarcastically with a  bite in his voice, you went right to him and cuddled into his side. It has always been that easy and that simple. It should be that way, still. Regardless of everything that's happening. You both can keep that part of you and him.

So, he extends his arm.

"You don't have to ask." Jason states simply and casually because it should always be that simple.

"I just don't want to overstep." You mutter softly, dodging his eyes.

"You can't overstep." Jason almost whispers right back, no sarcasm or bite or snark in his tone.

Things might be hard and Jason might want to push and run and scream and break. He might feel far too exposed again and scared of getting hurt again and scared of everything, but you're the one person who can never overstep. You can do whatever you want and say whatever you want and ask whatever you want.

You give him this genuine and joyful smile as your face softens. "You can't either." You nod your head softly. You scoot down so you can rest your head on his shoulder, placing your arm over his stomach and you feel him relax right under you. He still feels warm and safe, just as he did before.

Once you're comfortable against him, Jason swears this is the safest he has felt since coming back. It is the most comfortable he has felt. He doesn't remember what it was like last night but tonight, he knows he can just exist with you. There are no obligations to anyone or anything. And relief fills his blood, his entire body falling into a state of relaxation and he hadn't even realized he hasn't relaxed at all since coming back. Maybe this is what you both really need. Just one night of normalcy for you both and comfort and safety. Just him and you.

"Thanks again for coming." Jason whispers above your head.

"Always." You whisper right back, running your thumb along the fabric of his hoodie covering his torso. Jason sucks in a breath, running his hand along your hoodie-covered shoulder before Jason's voice about Bilbo's birthday starts to fill the room.

prev. chapter | next chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss  // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash  // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover //  @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @urmomsgayforme5 // @killxz

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor

[jinkookspencil]

the quest | ksj

your boyfriend's friends are a great help on your quest for a new hobby, leaving him feeling... irked?

description/tags: kim seokjin / established relationship / angst + a little fluff (the angst slowly builds until it's basically hurt/comfort) / feat. the rest of bts / jealous boyfriend jin / pov switches from yn to jin / no trigger warnings i'd say pg-13 / request from this anon! i hope you like it, sorry it's taken me so long, i wasn't feeling the best. i don't know if that feeling had an impact on the fic - i felt such an urge to rewrite the whole thing and start from scratch because i read it over so many times! that'll just take much longer so.. i might rewrite this sometime in the future or upload a shorter version since it ended up being my longest work ever???

wc: ~8k words

Statistics and relationship coaches claim that every introvert needs an extroverted partner. The extrovert to ‘bring the introvert out of their shell and live a little’ and the introvert to show the extrovert the value of rest and healing in solitude.

But no one who believed any of that crap had met you and Seokjin. You and Jin fit together like the pieces of the puzzles you two loved to solve together on the weekends.

The two of you were too alike: introverted souls with charming social skills and a small group of friends who ultimately loved staying at home and indulging in your stress-relieving hobbies in much-needed peace and quiet. Or so it seemed.

Early on in your relationship, Jin had boasted about his gaming skills to no end, so his irregular, prolonged gaming sessions came as no surprise to you, but considering this, what had been so surprising was the number of friends and hobbies he actually had.

Sure, you had your fair share of the same as well, but Jin did so much more than he ever let on: snowboarding, tennis, fishing, golf, and cooking, to name a few, and he carried them out with friends of all ages, from grandfathers in their sixties who he loved cooking with, to careermen in their thirties he played golf with on the weekends. When he finally invited you to see him in action, you quickly found out that it was as attractive and inspiring as it was surprising…

“All this because I sweat when I play tennis?” he said when his breathing finally returned to normal following his high, still lying naked on the living room couch after he invited you to watch him play.

“Yes… just like you’re sweating now,” you murmured, sitting up from your position between his legs and admiring Jin’s glistening, flushed skin as you grazed his chest and traced the muscles he loved to hide. “I don’t think I ever got the whole ‘jock’ thing being attractive, but it was hot… seeing you all sporty. I wish I could be like that... I want to be. I need more hobbies.”

“What do you mean?” Jin says, sitting up. “You love to read. Everywhere I turn, I see books - if there hadn't been a bed in your old apartment, I’d have thought it was a library, and now my - our - apartment is beginning to look like one.”

“I’m in the worst reading slump of my entire life. I need to do something different. More hobbies. More friends. The girls are great, but… seeing you, I feel as though I want… more. I want to be a better version of myself - and for myself. Don’t they say that happens to you when you find the right person?”

Jin’s lips meet yours once more, briefly, before he pulls away and opens his mouth to whisper. “I understand striving for ‘better’ or ‘more’ baby, but I hope you know that you’re enough. You’re always more than enough. Just the way you are. You’re good. You’re great. You’re beautiful. I love you.”

The simple yet significant words, coupled with Jin cupping your face and brushing your hair to the side, were just what you need at that moment to put your mind at ease, and you easily fall asleep in Jin’s arms.

+

The quest for a hobby was supposed to be simple. Try, and try, and try until you saw what would ‘stick.’

It was clear early on that your boyfriend’s hobbies would never be yours.

Jin begrudgingly demoted you to ‘his sous-chef-for-life’ when you nearly burned the house down three times in your attempts to surprise him with dinner.

His own gaming etiquette got in the way of you ever enjoying a good game with him, for he had no patience with newbies, and you didn’t have the patience to learn all the controls. The only good that attempt did was him buying you a PC and every gaming accessory possible in your favorite colors, even though they mostly went untouched. For his sake, you’d use the Switch controller whenever he insisted on a game of Mario Kart, and you visited your PC every now and then for a slower game. “I’m a GAMER. AND I cook. AND I fish, too,” you tease Jin every time you play Cooking Mama and Animal Crossing for all of 15 minutes.

Fishing, on the other hand, was a scene from your worst nightmare. Being woken up at the crack of dawn to maybe catch a fish after hours of waiting while seasick… was something you swore to Jin you’d never do again. Luckily, he seemed to prefer it as his usual “boy’s time” anyway, even though he never voiced it, and you quickly found out that the exact same could be said for golf - but neither of you minded the occasional role you played from the golf cart, seeing your boyfriend in action and matching in the most bougie athleticwear on the market.

Tennis… was a sight to behold. You had always said that when it came to Jin, attending some of his practice sessions just to bask in the sight and sounds of him on the court, but the same could also be said for you, though in an entirely different context. The racket seemed to reject your very being, flying from your grasp on numerous occasions and putting Jin’s trainer at risk as well as the general public when it went flying over the court’s walls and onto the street. Jin went so far as to dub it ‘the most memorable tennis day of his entire life,’ despite the fact that he had won a small championship.

Until snowboarding season came around, you were left without any new skills or passions shared with your boyfriend. His support and endless words of encouragement meant the world, but iIt had to have been for the better that none of his hobbies were yours - you understood that those were spaces he needed for himself and didn’t want to be the girl whose entire hobby or life was her boyfriend.

Nights and days he spent away were left entirely in your restless hands - try, and try, and try….

“Are you seeing Mina tonight? Nana? Girl’s night?” Jin asks as he puts on his coat.

“They’re still sick,” you pout. “I’ll be waiting here for you, baby.”

“Do you want to come along? Mr. Baek’s kitchen is always open.”

“Didn’t you say you were making some kiwi pie thing today? You know I’m allergic.”

Jin resigns, taking off his coat. “I’ll stay, then.”

You don’t allow him to, handing the thick, fleecy material back to him. “No, baby, I’m fine. Tonight, I’m trying out a new interest: European classical movies. Apparently, French films from the 1960s are very influential and artistic.”

“And boring,” Jin adds. “I watched some at university. You’re better off with Asian cinema.”

“I’ll leave that for whenever you’re free, then,” you say, anticipating the day but quickly putting the thought away. “I’ll be blasting this film so loudly, not even your ‘soundproof’ gaming room would be safe from its jazzy soundtrack.”

Jin smiles before parting his lips, considering the words he was hesitant to speak. “What if… what if I called up Taehyungie and asked him if he’s free to hang out with you?”

You drop your head as you raise your brows. “You’re arranging a play date for your girlfriend? I’m a grown woman, Kim Seokjin. I can entertain myself, much like you can…...” Your voice trails off, thinking of all the failed attempts at entertaining yourself with different hobbies and interests that were anything but interesting.

“It’s just that I know Taehyung would love that! C’mon, you know he would! You seemed to be getting on with him whenever we see the boys, right? Didn’t you both fangirl over Frank Sinatra the last time we hung out?”

“It’s Bing Crosby, honey.”

“There you go - I can’t even tell the difference… but Taehyung can. For what it’s worth, he’s complaining in the group chat non-stop that he’s bored out of his mind. So… why not?”

+

Steps away from his front door, Jin could hear trumpets echoing from his apartment. Taehyung worked his magic, alright, he thought to himself as he inputted the keycode and swung the door open. Jin expected to see the two of you lounging on the couch, watching the film, or simply having the music play through your vinyl player while you chatted away with a glass of wine. What he did not expect was to see the two of you drunkenly dancing in horrible fashion with intertwined hands and Jimin laughing his head off from the couch.

“OH! Speak of the devil!” Jimin cheers, seemingly sober. “Jin-hyung, save me from these two - please.”

In a second, you rush to Jin, screaming his name as you wrap your arms around his neck and messily kiss him on the lips. “Thank God. I can do as the song says and finally dance with mon cherie. Tae, mon ours, go sit.”

A pout appears on Taehyung’s face as he plops beside Jimin, but your eyes are still on your boyfriend, attempting to manhandle him into some form of movement. “Oh, my baby,” he laughs, letting your head rest on his shoulder. “Taehyung, I expected you to take care of her.”

“And that’s why I called Jimin,” Tae babbles, forcing a not-so-innocent childlike expression on his face, pointing at their friend. “We-we’re staying over tonight, okay?”

“Seems like a sleepover already,” Jin tuts.

“Humor her, hyung. I was called in halfway through the film and we’ve yet to finish it because they keep repeating the same scene. She’s been saying she wants to dance with you all night like the girl in the movie does,” Jimin says.

“I’ve never seen this film. I don’t know what to do,” Jin says.

“We’ll teach you,” Taehyung says as tries to rewind the film to whatever dance scene you were talking about, in as bad of a state as you were, which Jin thought would help. “Jimin, stand up.”

Jimin does, allowing Taehyung to latch onto him, and thus is immediately suffocated by the weight of his friend. “Copy my lead, hyung.”

The following morning, Jin is as fiery as the breakfast he’s cooking up on his own, ranting to himself in pout while the three of you only watch on due to your shared lack of cooking skills, hungover and bundled up at the kitchen counter.

“Do you think yoga and meditation suit me as hobbies?” you ask the boys after you and Jin had explained how you came up with ‘the movie night to end all movie nights’ as Taehyung had labeled it.

“With your patience?” Jin scoffs, and you’re quick to shoot him a glare - it stung, perhaps more than it should've, so you quickly put the thought away. Nights alone and countless failed hobbies exhausted your patience, but he hadn't seen that... as you hoped. After all, Jin was always supportive and offered not only to stay the night prior, but also indirectly gave you one of the most memorable movie nights of your life with Taehyung. A soft glare was enough.

“That’s exactly what I mean! You need yoga and meditation, but can you do it? Sit still like that?" You open your mouth to argue but fail to do so at the sight of your shaking knees - he was right. "Oh, hey, you know who else can’t sit still?”

“Who?”

“Jungkookie. You seemed to get on with him, too, no? If you’re looking for something active, why don’t you let him teach you boxing?”

“We do pilates together too, twice a week, if that’s more your thing,” Jimin quickly adds, “You’re free to join us any time.”

“Yah, it’s not easy,” Taehyung jumps in, taking a bite of the breakfast that was now in front of him. “If you want to exercise your creative skills, which is a million times more fun, we can do a painting session together. Just for fun, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“Exactly! That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Jin says, pointing his hands in thanks towards Taehyung for echoing the words he'd spoken to you restlessly when you gave up origami and journaling. There had to have been some wisdom in the advice, you think, but your patience had been worn thin... how much more could one person try?

"She wants whatever she does to be ‘perfect’ at the very first attempt, but that’s impossible," Jin continues. "The only perfect thing in the world is her, but even she has to start as a beginner. That’s the point of hobbies - they don’t have to be perfect, you just need to enjoy them.”

“You called me perfect,” you blush, kissing Jin’s cheek. The reminder sufficed to get your legs to stop from beneath the kitchen table, now fiddling with the fabric of his hoodie. It was hard to envision being good enough or interesting, but at the very least, one person had seen you as such. Jin and his constant reminders were the only things that kept you from falling off the deep end... he never let you stray too far, even in your thoughts, nudging you towards Jimin when your head started to rest against his shoulder the way it always did when you needed reassurance.

“Pilates does sound interesting…” you mumble.

“Good!” Jimin cheers. “Tomorrow. You, me, Jungkookie.”

“Oh, but first,” you pause, holding Jin’s arm. His eyebrow is already raised, knowing you were about to tease him. “Are you sure it’s alright for me to go work out with your very fit and adorable young friends?”

“I am sure, brat,” Jin says, rolling his eyes before quickly whispering to Jimin, “Make sure Jungkookie keeps his shirt on.”

+

One pilates session with Jungkook and Jimin quickly turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into boxing sessions with Jungkook alone, regular morning jogs with Jimin, and a newfound love for fitness. Boxing made you feel stronger, and Jungkook’s thoughtful observations and comments were of more help and motivation than your now-shared instructor. And catching the sunrise at dawn really was as beautiful and as ‘worth it’ as the annoying health gurus claim to be, something you and Jimin begrudgingly admitted to.

Jin had been supportive as he always was.... up until the day you almost fainted, scolding Jungkook and Jimin for not being more careful of you and insisting you take a week-long break.

“But honey, I don’t want to stop so abruptly! I’m on a roll and I miss the boys already! And for the record, they are always so considerate. I messed up and did more than I should've, but I'm fine today!” you pout, laying on the couch with a hot compress on your core to relieve your soreness and snacking on a fruit bowl, as Jin instructed and prepared.

“My love, you’re exhausted. I don’t want to hear any more of it for at least five days….” he tuts, carefully placing kinesiology tape on your skin. “I hate seeing you this upset, though. You said you feel as though your brain ‘opened up’ when you began exercising, right? Well, why don’t you try exercising that beautiful brain? Take Taehyung up on his offer and take an art class together.”

So you do. Sandwiched between Taehyung and Jungkook at back-to-back painting sessions, you were inspired by their very different approaches to their shared hobby. Tae had his signature style that seemed to effortlessly flow out of him and onto the canvas every time, whereas Jungkook tried a different approach, concept, tool, or style at every session. Both boys seemed like natural talents, but you found peace and awe in Taehyung’s freedom of expression and especially Jungkook’s itch to learn and try new things so fearlessly time & time again...

It was hard to tell what you would create from session to session, slapping paint on a rough pencil sketch every time, but with every stroke of your paintbrush and conversation with the boys, you could breathe a little better...

“Ya, with all these colors… Is this what Namjoon-hyung calls ‘modern art’?” Jungkook teases, staring at your latest creation. You’re quick to poke him with the paintbrush for teasing you, and he’s quick to reassure you.

“It’s Pollock-y, dear Jungkookie the Artist Who Hates Learning Art History,” Taehyung explains. “It is art.”

+

to: my love [6:01pm]: hey, how’s the art class going? how are the boys?

to: prince charmjin [6:32pm]: good! we’re basically done!! we’re going out for dinner. jungkookie is hungry and i think I owe him for making him listen to my rant on the injustice women face and how society is built on misogyny

to: my love [6:34pm]: hehehe knowing jk, he was willingly listening, like i did. even he’d agree that you don’t him dinner. i made pasta at home..

to: prince charmjin [6:51pm]: aw :( we’re already at the steakhouse. maybe jk will be in the mood for pasta later too though

to: my love [7:01pm] have fun :)

to: prince charmjin [8:58pm] on my way home, honey. tae’s dropping me off. jungkook wanted to come but he’s asleep right beside me and he’s tae’s next stop.

to: my love [9:02pm]: good, they’re taking care of you just as i asked them to

to: prince charmjin [9:04pm]: they’re the bestest boys. i don’t need them to take care of me though. :3

“They’re my babies, and I love them,” you remark to Jin after showing him your latest creation, a matching one-of-three painted self-made pottery sculpture with the boys.

The younger boys were your safe space, he thought. Good. And… so am I.

“And I’m your biggest baby that you love the most,” Jin smiles, pouting his lips in want of a kiss. When you grant his wish, a feeling washes over him… one that he couldn’t help but identify as temporary. A seconds-lasting painkiller. “I guess you get the younger boys, and I get the older ones. I’m closer to them anyway. You’ve met them all, haven’t you? Namjoon and Yoongi? And Hobi, of course.”

“Hoseok is always here, Seokjin, so of course, but I think I’ve heard of Namjoon and Yoongi more times than I’ve actually seen or met them. Do they have any hobbies I can steal? The boys mentioned something about Namjoon and art?”

“Namjoon is art. In that he's beautiful and unbelievable, but also that he is interested in anything and everything art-related - museums, galleries, exhibitions, and all that crap. And fitness, so… there’s that,” Jin says, instantly regretting his words at the memory of Namjoon working out, grateful for remembering his friend’s most unenjoyable hobby to move on to. “Oh, he actually hikes! He meditates in the mountains like a wise old man afterwards. Hoseok likes dance, of course, but he also loves fashion. Yoongi likes fishing and drinking with me only,” Jin emphasizes, having always been proud and appreciative of the fact that he’d been the only one who was ever able to get Yoongi to join in on another’s hobby. “By himself, Yoongi plays basketball.... he’s studying, he plays tennis, fencing, he reads, produces, he scrapbooks, he gardens, he runs, he gardens, he flies, he soars! He actually might be Superman.”

You roll your eyes, prompting Jin to explain. “Sorry, inside joke with the boys. Yoongi does so much and is so secretive about it all that I wouldn’t be surprised if all of that is true. But he’d say he’s Batman rather than Superman, actually. I’m Superman… right?”

Jin places his hands on his hips, buffing out his chest and glancing at you through his periphery, hoping his extra hours at the tennis court paid off whenever you'd had an art or fitness session with the boys. He had to know if you saw him as such, as some type of Superman… especially after the countless times you’d trained with Jungkook and Jimin. Though he tried to push the thought away, the image bit at him, even now when was messing around. A seed of something he couldn't quite name...

When your hands are on his shoulders, trailing down his chest, he begins to relax. Even more so when you use his fork to finally take a bite of the dinner he’d prepared. Perhaps he’d been too worried.

“Well, we both know I don’t need saving, but I’ll play along, my handsome Superman. This Lois Lane wants to meet and investigate the interests of the rest of your Justice League, baby.”

“Okay,” Jin murmurs. “Who should we start with?”

“Namjoon? Hey, he’d probably be Aquaman, huh? Same nature shit, apparently, and definitely the same body.”

Perhaps he hadn’t been too worried.

+

to: prince charmjin [9:02am]: i am texting you from the beyond. from the spiritual realm.

to: prince charmjin [9:03am]: come climb up this fucking mountain and bury your girlfriend she’s dead and hates her life and didn’t pack enough water

to: prince charmjin [9:03am]: you’ll know the way, my blood, sweat, and tears left a trail

to: prince charmjin [9:04am]: i gotta admit it’s pretty tho (1 image attached)

Knew it.

Jin was rarely a smug man, but he couldn’t help but indulge in the feeling when he’d woken up to your texts and later when you trudged into the apartment, resigning from a hiking day with Namjoon and swearing you’d never do it again. He guessed you’d hate every second of it but didn’t want to hold you back from your mission and trying something new. His pride is quickly squashed, however, when you follow up the sentence with a declaration that he’d invited you to the opening of an art exhibit the very next day.

“I’m his VIP guest, honey,” you cheer, kissing Jin on the cheek. “And I’m going to the afterparty too so you can have a boy’s night - call your grandpa friends! Oh, it’ll be past their bedtime, won’t it?”

He forces a chuckle. “I hate that that’s true. Plus, I’ve seen way too many people this week, so I’ll game til the early hours of the day - just like I did when I was single.”

Jin hates that the thought had left his lips. It was honest, he had missed his gaming marathons when he never had someone to go to bed to, but it was cruel to mention. He hated the idea that some part of him meant it as such, as a signal, a cry, anything… you never said such words or guilted him when he’d been busy. It was spiteful, it wasn’t like him…. or was it?

“Oh, great! I know you used to love those game-a-thon things. I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t realize you stopped because of me. I hope you know you can do those at any time, okay? I won’t mind.”

Something turned in Jin’s stomach. The seed of what he could only label as worry was now an undeniable pit at his very core.

He should be ecstatic at the fact that you were so accepting of him possibly spending an ungodly amount of hours gaming… but it was too accepting. A smile was on your face, but for the first time in your relationship, Jin couldn’t read what it was - as though a sudden, unknown filter stood between you. Was it temptation? An unthinkable impulse he sensed on your end... Joy, relief, or freedom? Perhaps it was, Jin couldn't tell. It ate at him now, and instead of surrendering, he fought with what he had left.

This… this was the least he could do for you, he told himself, thinking of all the ways he came up short as a boyfriend where others succeeded.

He replayed the image over and over again - the way your eyes light up after every acquired skill or hobby. Your subsequent, beautiful smile seemed like the only thing he could hold on to, keeping aside the anxieties surrounding the reasons behind it. It had to be reminder enough. Seeing you happy made him happy. He knew that…. but he also knew that something dark festered within him. He didn’t like it… he didn’t like it all…

+

to: y/n [5:30pm] on my way home

to: y/n [5:35pm] just got here… where are you?

to: y/n [6:01pm] are you working out?

to: y/n [6:02pm] hey?

Jin needed to blow off some steam.

Gaming didn’t work. The incompetent online players he was paired with only infuriated him further, and the shot he took only made his heart race faster. He thought to spend some time in the kitchen, but he couldn’t help but overthink, indecisive over whether to cook dinner for the two of you or just for himself. When a thought came to mind - to cook something you’d hate just to spite you for not answering his texts and calls with no prior warning or explanation - he quickly discarded the whole idea. He wasn’t hungry anyway.

A best friend would do, he figured.

When it came to opening up, he could only ever trust his younger friends - the ’grandpas’ as you liked to call them, often gave him outdated advice he never cared for. Plus, they didn’t know him like the boys did - since they now know you as well, Jin figured it was the best-case scenario. Surely, they’d have something to say.

But another hour passes, and still, none of Jin’s messages were seen or answered. The younger boys hadn’t answered when he’d asked if they knew of your whereabouts, and the older ones didn’t answer his calls or texts to talk. His skin began to crawl…

until he remembered the failsafe. Out of everyone, Hobi was the only person who still revealed his live location on a social media app to his friends. It was something Jin in particular scolded him for, knowing it was a safety breach, but now, he was thankful for it.

Of course, he’s still at the damn dance studio.

+

Is that…?

Chills shiver down Jin’s body the second he hears the music through the studio’s walls. It’s a song he knows too well… and so do you.

Following the music with long and forceful strides that echo through the corridors, Jin bursts open the door to Hoseok’s own practice room. And his stormy intrudance is proven to be justified.

In front of the mirror were you and Hoseok, dancing too close together to a song from Jin’s secret sex playlist, surrounded by the rest of the boys, watching closely and making teasing noises that shook his very core.

“YA!”

Jin’s voice booms throughout the spacious room, overtaking the loud music playing through every speaker. The group scatters, every person with a horrified look on their face…. yours hurt the most.

Rage was unfamiliar to Jin. He didn’t know what to do with it, feeling it then and there. One would normally shout or yell, question and guilt, as he’s seen and studied before… but his lips were frozen in a frown. He wondered if it was common for one to cry out of fury, though no tears streamed down his face… he knew how to hold them back. His senses confused him, distorted, forced to venture into uncharted territory. Jin could hear differing calls of “Hyung” and what must’ve been excuses as someone turned off the music - all muffled and intelligible. Through it all, he could hear only the soft call that left your lips amidst the chaos, “Jin, my love…”

With his eyes still fixated on you and the words that ease his sole, the knot within him came undone.

His throat throbs and everyone knew what it meant, though no one was close enough to see the pools in his eyes.

“Everyone leave,” you command, and the room is empty save for you and Jin within seconds.

The downpour starts. Though his face was frozen cold, Jin’s body allowed him to move, and all he could do was pace the studio and ignore your small steps toward him. When he finally stops, you’re close enough to stand before him, your head no longer hung so low. The guilt on your face was almost enough to make Jin forget his feelings.

“….I’m so sorry, my love,” you say after a moment’s silence. His lips tremble at the words, wanting to refute them… he doesn’t need to say it for you to understand.

His breath is hitched when he sees your hand extend towards his face, which he tilts just as he always would when you did this. He exhales as you do when you cup his face so gently, moving to your touch as his tears are wiped away. But when your hand brushes over his mouth, he can’t bring himself to purse his lips into a kiss as he always would. The dark seed within him still tugged him back from fully diving in.

“Sit for a moment?” you ask, and he nods, feeling his knees giving way as you lead him to the two weirdly placed chairs by the giant mirror wall in Hoseok’s studio. While you sit with your side to the back of the chair to face him better, he slumps against the hardwood backing, staring at the ceiling as his eyes dry up so he can finally face you once again.

“I can’t talk much. I.. what is this? What am I?” he mumbles with a strained voice, pushing the skin at his temples. “Fuck… I’ve tried rehearsing this, and even then, the words just didn't come out. I can't put a name on it, but I don’t like what’s been happening. All of it. No… No, not all of it.” Jin breathes deeply before continuing. “My girlfriend is never around, and not only that, she spends all her time with my best friends… without me. I know you’re on your journey for more self-discovery and that you really like the boys, so I feel like a piece of shit for feeling this way and for saying this, but… fuck, I’m... I'm angry.”

Jin sees you take in his words, brushing away a couple of runaway tears. “I understand. You have every right to be pissed,” you repeat. “I… shit, I’m sorry, Jin. I never meant to exclude you, my love. The boys don’t either… but that doesn't excuse it... It doesn't." You go stone cold, as though you were replaying the time that's passed over and over in your head. "Will you allow me to talk for a little while? Can I… unpack it all on my end?”

How could he not? Jin nods.

“I learned a whole lot on this 'quest’ which started with your support, I may add - and I’m not blaming you here. I’m thanking you, honey… You’ve been incredible.”

Already, Jin starts feeling sick, hearing the words of a definite breakup speech and knowing that he was the furthest thing from incredible. His friends were. All he can do is watch, now looking at his fingers as he bites his own nails on an unsteady hand.

"Most guys would never even suggest to their girlfriend the idea of her hanging out with his friends - alone. I'm so grateful, honey, and not only that, it actually might be one of the sweetest, most attractive things you've ever done..."

H-huh? Jin tugged at his own sweater, thinking of the possible ways you'd get to the end of your speech and the conclusion that stated what he ultimately feared - that the attraction, or worse, the love, wore off with all you were left with.

“But most of all, I'm grateful. I'm different. I probably wasn't around that much for you to see, but... on this quest, it was as though I unlocked parts of myself I didn't know I had. That was a past version of me, the girl who was in an eternal reading slump, and was too scared to do much else but stay in that slumpish cocoon... I love my cocoon and staying in, don't get me wrong, but I just have more things that give me joy. I feel more certain of myself - like more of that confidence you rubbed off on me. It seems trivial, I know, but everything... everything helped."

You were right. Jin hadn't seen any of it - the rewards of your quest. He cursed himself, knowing he could have if he only paid attention, recalling warped memories of your pride and new experiments. He didn't have to take your word for it, seeing some of it now. You were more sure of yourself. Bold. Happier. That one note settled it - if this grand speech were to end the way he had expected, all that mattered was that. That you were happier.

"That's good," he croaks. "I'm proud."

"I'm proud of myself, too," you nod. "I am the slightly more improved version of myself I knew I could be. Maybe I could be even better, I don't know... but through it all, I kept repeating to myself the same phrase, over and over again. 'You’re enough. You’re always more than enough. Just the way you are. You’re good. You’re great. You’re beautiful. I love you.' Those words... that's what kept me going more than anything."

Jin's breath is hitched when he's finally able to look at you so directly, at the woman he loved with his entire being, quoting his own words. He had meant every word then, prior, all throughout, and would for eternity. If those simple words were enough to help, though he was certain they were not enough to capture the depth of his love, he had served his purpose in life.

"I was entirely motivated by self-love and your love for me, Seokjinnie. I fucking love you," you exhale, and Jin does too, coming undone. All he could do was hang his head low as the tears instantly return, and in seconds, you're at his knees, reaching for him. Like he'd foolishly been dreaming of...

"I don't deserve you. I've been so... so..." his low voice trails off.

"My love, let me finish, hmm? It'll help," you whisper, trying to hold onto any piece of him, and Jin lets you, feeling a rush through his very soul at him being called as such by you. He just hoped he wasn't awaiting more cushioning for a devastating blow... even so, it was one he was now reminded to fight for.

"I have to talk about the boys. I obviously enjoy the hobbies I do with the baby boys - you remember when I told you how I love how strong I feel now? How I feel creative for the first time since high school? That holds up, and in truth, the boys are just angels. I developed such a close friendship with Jiminie, Taehyungie, and Jungkookie that I don't think I can let that go. I just adore them…. and so much so that I’ve been trying to set them up with the girls - Nana, Kiki, and Mina.”

A breath escapes Jin, his fingers stroking his chin. It made sense, he thought. Nana and Taehyung in particular would be perfect together…

“I know you’re closer with the older boys, and I haven’t forgotten them. Namjoon is very cool, but… pretty much none of what he likes works for me. Hiking is as bad as fishing, no offense, and art is only fun when we’re mindlessly having fun in the studio. Otherwise…” You scrunch your nose at the thought, shaking your head violently in disapproval - the endearing act that never fails to make him giggle, even now. “The only reason we keep in touch is to talk books, which… you know I’ve always liked,” you explain.

Jin nods. You and Namjoon’s reading speeds always made him feel like a third-grader. You’d sooner finish reading a 700-page book than learn how to make a simple grilled cheese sandwich - Namjoon was the same. In a world where most people were not as such, at least you two clumsy nerds know of each other, he thought.

“Dancing was… always on my list of things to try, believe it or not. You were there when I brought it up to Hoseok,” you recall the interaction you’d had weeks ago, and so does Jin, who had been so taken aback at your suggestion to Hoseok, having assumed you’d want fashion or social media advice from his savvy friend. You’d never danced sober more than simply swaying, even on the most private occasions… there was never any reason for him to know dancing was always a thing you’d wanted to try... but then again, perhaps the 'new you' had been buried too deeply. But it took guts to ask Hoseok - he knew you knew that as well - the sheer courage and confidence that must've settled in only recently….

“But…. I pretty much told him that I didn’t want him to teach me anymore after the first lesson. He’s like… really fucking scary, Jin, holy shit. I know you've mentioned it, but I didn’t think he was capable of being like that! I thought he was going to kill me!” Another giggle escapes him at your shock. If you had simply run the idea by him, he’d have told you that already, he thinks to himself, as he did after your hike with Namjoon, but he chooses to say it out loud this time. “Oh, lesson learned, believe me, honey. I passed it off as me wanting a female instructor, which I do. Because well….I couldn’t tell Hoseok I wanted to learn burlesque dancing now, could I?”

“Bur-burlesque?!” Jin says, leaning forward as if it’d make him hear any better.

“Mhmm….” The faint, smug smile on your face calmed his heart - it’d been a while since he’d seen you as such - but it did nothing to calm his mind. Just the mental image of you…. “And pole dancing too. I keep telling my instructor that I want to surprise my boyfriend, so she helped me come up with some choreography involving… things you like.”

Jin’s excitement fades when he remembers - the song. “Was that what you were showing the boys?! When I walked in….”

“As if. That’d be for your eyes only, honey. When you walked in, we were just teasing Jimin about something stupid. The song just came up on shuffle.”

Jin shakes his head and stands up to pace the room, replaying the scene once again and scolding himself. Once again, it’s as though you can read his thoughts. “It probably looked odd from your angle…”

“Why was everyone there? Wait, was that Yoongi in here too?” It’d taken Jin this long to realize Yoongi had been present as well. Save for the makeshift therapy session Jin had wanted to have earlier in the day, he had been trying to schedule appointments with Yoongi all week - a needed fishing trip and a work meeting, but his friend only ever answered when Jin had been fast asleep. Had Yoongi been here for Hoseok? Jimin?

“My day started with Yoongi,” you sigh.

You?! The one person who knew of his desperate attempts to get to Yoongi?! he thought, so shocked he had to sit down, opting for the space on the floor in front of you instead of the chair.

”No secrets, especially since I’m laying everything out today. It was my first time hanging out with Yoongi, just so you know. I wanted to pick out a good anniversary gift for you since that’s coming up, and we went shopping for all these fancy liquors. Then, he was just meant to drop me off here at the studio, and after my lesson, I found out he just stayed since Hoseokie was already here in the other room with Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung. And Namjoon… he was just here, I guess. Actually, I think he’s hiding that he’s dating one of Hoseok’s dancers. The boys seemed to tease him about it?”

“Oh shit, good. He’s always had a crush on her,” Jin smiles to himself. It starts out as happiness for his dear friend, knowing how deeply Namjoon’s affections could run, and when the crush began. It was right at the start of Jin’s own relationship with you. At that time, for the first time in over a decade, Jin finally understood his friend. Namjoon loved love. He got so caught up in the idea and complexities of love, talking endlessly about how it’s the center of the universe, tying everything together. “It is science,” Jin would always rebuff until he couldn’t. Until he understood. He wasn't going to forget any of it again - not even for a second.

And once again, the woman he loved cups his face, searching his watery eyes, and kneeling on the floor in front of him.

"….Did you ever feel this way?"

You consider his words and think over yours. "Angry? A little jealous? ....Lonely? If that's what you've been feeling... Yes, sometimes."

“Then you don’t have to be sorry, my love. I’m sorry I got angry more than anything.  I… didn’t like that. That wasn’t me…. was it?”

“Not the usual you, but it’s the human you. It’s within reason… I never saw you get jealous before, which is a green flag since I know you trust me - as you should! And I trust you! But still, as someone who gets jealous over you often… it weirdly reassured me, I guess? That you still want me.”

“…. Wait, you get this often?!” Jin blinks.

“Honey, I feel jealous whenever anyone follows their urge to say you’re handsome, which is very often. I always wish I could answer with ‘AND HE’S MINE’ and giggle like a little leprechaun who's hoarding a pot of gold all for himself,” you say with a tone so serious it makes Jin erupt in his signature dolphin-noise laugh for the first time that night.

“I’m always yours! And I always want you! Honey… this is a dark feeling. How do you deal with it often…. I… I never want to feel this way ever again,” he exhales, tugging on the fabric of your top before your hand covers his.

“I deal with it because you always remind me that you’re mine and I’m yours, like you did just now. Because you make sure I know you love me. I… I try. I promise I’ll try harder, my love.”

“No, honey, you do more than enough. I know you love me. I do. I was just… blinded, I guess, which I fucking hate. I… I thought I’d be stronger, better than to fall into this stupid mental rut.”

“You’re human. You’re my human,” you smile, hand slowly trailing down Jin’s cheek but lingering your touch over his pursed lips. Jin’s hands find your waist, and your arms immediately wrap themselves over his shoulders. When your racing hearts calm together in sync, and your breathing follows, the world falls into place and both of your meaningless defenses yield. Your bodies and spirits rest against one another, tired, aching, and longing. Jin wanted just this. To keep you close, for all eternity, if he could… if you’d wanted the same. He’s reassured when his attempt to tighten his embrace falls short, realizing how closely you’ve been holding him in turn. It was physically impossible to be any closer, and still, it wasn’t enough. Exhaling against you, with a hand somewhere in your hair at your back and the other holding your head, his senses overwhelm him once again. It’s too much, the love he’d felt at that moment. Dreamlike, even when he notices that his hand had been lying right over your bra strap. And he remembers even more.

“So… burlesque, huh?” Jin smirks.

“What do you think the chairs are here for?” Turning, Jin’s jaw drops when sees the two now-empty chairs. He tries to hide his excitement by covering his face when he sees you, sure it is red already.

“Oh, with a reaction like this, I’m definitely keeping it as a hobby then. I’m good at it too,” you smile, brushing his hair. “It’ll be good and all for you, baby. Painting random shit and fitness has been fun, especially with the younger ones, and burlesque will be for the both of us. But! My quest is not over, and my introverted self is not fulfilled just yet. I still have crocheting, writing, blogging, and photography to try out. I want something that’s entirely mine.”

“I promise that I support you with trust, love… always,” Jin thinks over his words, fidgeting with his fingers.

“And…I’m…..entirely yours,” he says quietly, a smile finally fixed on his face.

“And I’m yours,” you say with a smile, finally pulling Jin into a kiss that he can’t help but melt into. It’s soft, quick pecks and affectionate murmurs until you straddle his lap. Suddenly, it’s as though your entire mature conversation and successful attempt at communication never happened, and you replayed it all then and there. He reaches for you, pulling you down and onto him until you gasp. At that, Jin’s hand at your nape pushes you into his kiss, and you let him. He bites at your lower lip, moaning when you’re quick to do the same back, yet his sounds grow louder when he lets you passionately kiss him all over. In a fight for stability, he grabs onto the nearby chair and breaks away so suddenly.

“The - the damn boys are still here. I think I heard something break in the corridor - it’s either Namjoonie or Jiminie.”

You open your mouth to say something but don’t, looking at Jin instead. “If they’ve been trying to eavesdrop and want the gist of it, how would you like it if I fake moaned your name a bit too loudly so they know I’m yours and only yours?”

“It doesn’t have to be fake, though, does it?” he asks, leaning back on his elbows and lying in wait, positioned in front of the mirror. Seeing a turn in your gaze seconds before you pounce on top of him, Jin is electrified. Your name leaves his lips and his yours, not just as a moan but a promise. A quest of his own. To make you happier and happier for as long as he lived and more. To find a new way to love you every single day. You deserved as many as the universe had to offer.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jin fanfiction #jin fic #jin fanfic #jin angst #jin fluff #seokjin fanfiction #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #jin oneshot #jin one shot #seokjin one shot #seokjin oneshot #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin fanfiction #kim seokjin fanfic #jin scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin scenario #seokjin x you #jin x you #seokjin x reader #jin x reader

[ya-zz]

So this is a rewrite of a challenge I took part in back in May whilst I was coming to the end of uni. When rereading it, there were so many mistakes and some of it didn't make sense, so here we go. A rewrite and the entire thing in one post.

Because this is a rewrite, the rules of the challenge are no longer followed. The original document stood at 6,200 words, and this one is more.

Read the original here!

CLOSURE (rewritten)

Word count: 6675

WARNINGS: Depictions of violence and torture.

Ramattra had sought refuge after his attacks. Null Sector had failed, Overwatch had destroyed everything he had worked hard for. He fled when he realised how dire his situation was, returning to Shambali in hopes they would let him back in without questioning his disappearance. Although Mondatta was deceased, the monastery was still thriving and the monks accepted Ramattra just like they had done when he first arrived there after the awakening. 

Though, his hatred for humanity was known by many - too many, in fact. However, it never deterred you from wanting to know him. You would always find him in the same places, whether it was the library, the courtyard or in his room whenever you passed by while running errands for those in the monastery. Ramattra was always doing something whenever you saw him - reading, meditating or sparring with the other monks. No matter what, he was always busy. 

You never approached him though as you wanted him to approach you first. Of course, whenever you two happened to cross paths you would greet him like you would any other omnic; a friendly “hello” with a smile. At first, Ramattra would barely pass a glance at you, but over time, he expected your greetings and that smile of yours. 

He followed his routine effortlessly, much like you did and each morning there you would be, walking past and greeting him before going about your day. It was the same in the afternoon and in the evening. He never admitted it, but he was growing used to having you, a human, around in the monastery. 

When the omnic broke his routine and speaks to you, it catches you off guard. 

“Would you care to meditate with me?” He asks, stopping just short of you and awaiting your answer. 

You look up at him, eyes wide slightly as you wonder if you heard him right. You must’ve been staring for a lot longer than you had thought as he breaks the silence, voice low and almost sounding irritated.

“Well?” The omnic cocks his head, optics looking down on you. 

All you could do was nod in response, still startled by the fact that he had asked you to meditate with him, pulling you away from your schedule and into his.

Ramattra starts walking without saying anything else and you follow behind him just as silently. His routine was back to how it was, but this time, you were in tow. 

The pair of you reach the hallway that leads you into the shared meditation room. It was large and dimly lit by several candles that littered the floor and walls. Seven other monks sat silently on the floor, sitting on cushions as they continue their meditation while you and Ramattra head for the back corner of the room. Being careful in your steps, you keep close to the taller omnic.

He sits down after finding his spot in the corner. His back straightens, legs crossed and his head bows down. You put a human width gap between you and him as you take a seat next to him, copying his posture. Your hands rest on your knees as your eyes close, breathing slowly becoming steady.

You could hear the soft hum of his inner workings, fans slowly whirring as his chest rises and falls, imitating a humans breathing. The only sound in the room was the soft humming of the omnics, a faint buzzing that calmed the discord within your body. 

Ever since you had arrived at the monastery, you felt at peace, you felt at home; it was an escape from wherever you had come from a year ago. The surrounding area was full of life, truly a place worthy of calling home. The trees were shades of pink in spring, always green in the summer, and the mountains were covered in a blanket of snow throughout the year. When it was dark, the village below would glow yellow with life. As the minutes passed by, the lights would slowly get dimmer as stores closed. The bakery would close it doors and start preparing the next days bread and cakes. The flower shop would put its display inside and then hand out some singular flowers to those who passed by before locking up for the night. 

The monastery would glow all year round. While some residents went to their rooms, others would stay late to clean, others turn to roam the halls alone. Everyone here was friendly, caring in their actions and words towards you. They treated you like family, even if you were human. 

The hum of Ramattra’s body got slightly louder, or maybe it had always been that loud. Your ears picked up the noise rather quickly and in the time you had your eyes closed and opened them back up, two monks had left and one was just getting up to leave. 

They look over at you and nod gently, the rise and fall of their shoulders make him seem apologetic, as if he was apologising for disturbing your meditation. You smile back at them, shaking your head, dismissing their worry before looking back down at your hands. You fidget in your position before finding some comfort on the stone floor. The footsteps of the other monk faded and it was back to near silence. It was peaceful.

Ramattra tilts his head to the side, pondering some thoughts. As he looks up, optics scanning the room, you catch his attention and he looks over at you. A silent sigh escapes his body as he watches your head bob, your breathing was slowing down. You had accidentally dozed off, truly a deep meditation on your part. 

He moves closer to you, his knee eventually touching yours and it was as if you could feel something pulling you to rest on him. Your body slumps against the omnic, instantly finding comfort against his rigid body. A content sigh escapes your lips as you fall deeper into sleep.

Ramattra turns his head towards you again and watches the rise and fall of your chest. Something inside of him feels warm, his fans picking up speed to cool him down. He has never felt this before, and it’s with a human of all things. 

He looks ahead, eyes scanning the room. The remaining omnics were still quietly meditating, head bowed and legs crossed. Ramattra straightens his back before returning to his own meditation, however he has began to focus on your breathing, the slowness of it, how in rhythm it was. His mind starts thinking about how fragile human life was, how weak they were to him and how he could crush anyone without thinking twice. He turns and looks at you again, wondering how fragile you really were. He wonders what you think about him and his kind, whether it was possible to coexist peacefully. 

The omnic pauses in thought. You were here in the Monastery, with him, surrounded by other omnics. You had already made your choice. It brought a little comfort to him, despite his hatred for humanity still running high. 

For weeks he had watched you run around the monastery and you would always be doing something, but never really keeping to a schedule apart from waking or sleeping at the same time. There were always the moments that would always be on time though, and that was when you would greet him with a smile before walking away. He would always wonder what you thought of him, if you were somewhat scared and only friendly from fear of his model. 

He looks down at you, pondering these thoughts. The soft breaths that you release were like another meditation to him. He was content in that moment.

You shift slightly on the floor, head still resting on Ramattra’s arm. Your ears pick up the inner workings of his body and they are louder than they were before. It was almost soothing to you, relaxing your mind further. 

Time seems to pass slowly, but it was a comfortable speed as the two of you remain seated in the room, the candlelight illuminating your features with a soft, warm glow. 

The initial seven omnics had since left, and Ramattra’s personal schedule was behind as he refuses to move your sleeping body. He stays seated far longer than he had initially planned, but he doesn’t want to disturb you. A few more omnics came and went, but the two of you remained. 

Ramattra had been keeping watch of the time, his schedule now completely out of whack. He places his hand on your head which makes your body flinch in reaction. You almost jump awake, heart racing as you sit up with a sore neck that you rub tenderly.

“I suppose you were tired.” He states matter-of-factly as he turns to look at you, optics scanning your body when he notices your increased heart rate.

You look back at him, eyes widening. “I… I am so sorry!” Your cheeks warm up as you realise you had fallen asleep on the omnic. 

His gaze was still on you before he stands up. 

“Perhaps, you should go to bed.” His voice was cold. “I have time to make up.” Ramattra walks away, leaving you in the room alone. Part of him was annoyed that he didn’t keep to his schedule, another part of him was annoyed at himself for saying what he had when he left, but another part of him was grateful for the time he had spent with you, granted you were asleep for most of it. 

Standing slowly, you walk out of the room silently, trying not to disturb the other monks that had arrived moments prior. Your cheeks stay warm as you start walking back to your living quarters, shivering slightly from the cool breeze that passes through the open windows. 

Just as you turn the next corner, Zenyatta appears, almost startling you much like Ramattra did earlier on in the day. 

“Hello, [y/n].” His voice was mellow as he speaks. There was a certain charm to it that you could never quite place. 

“Hey, Zen…” You stop walking, wanting to converse with the omnic monk. 

“What seems to be troubling you?” He asks as he tilts his head to the side. Zenyatta seems to be more observant than you thought. 

You look at him for a moment before replying. “Nothing, really. I’m just tired.” 

Zenyatta nods. “I see… I do not suppose you have seen my brother around here? Ramattra?” 

“He left me a few minutes ago.” You look away, feeling somewhat ashamed. 

“Left you?”

You nod. “Yeah. I fell asleep on him while we were meditating.” 

Zenyatta chuckles. “He did not mind?” 

“I don’t know… I woke up and he left, saying he had ‘time to make up’.” Your eyes widen slowly as you realise you may have caused his irritability. “How long were we there?” 

“I do not know. I shall ask him when I find him. Go, rest up. You clearly need it.” Zenyatta puts a hand on your shoulder, wanting to reassure you that you could not help the situation. 

With a small nod, you leave the monk, your room in sight.

…

Ramattra finishes his duties two hours after his initial schedule had ended. He lets out a low sigh as he made his way back to his own living quarters. Upon reaching his room, he hums quietly as he sits on the edge of his bed, the thoughts of you returning to his mind. He wonders where you had come from and what your past was like…

That’s when something clicks inside of him. He had seen you before, many years prior to the pair of you meeting at the Monastery. 

Back when Null Sector was in its prime, Ramattra and his troops would gather any human that was still alive after they had attacked and transported them back to the countless air vessels for questioning. Many died on the way, some in the middle of interrogation, others would die after one round of torture. He felt guilty remembering this, but then he remembered - you were one of those people taken. You had survived the journey, survived the countless interrogations, and multiple rounds of torture. 

You were, at the time, one of the strongest humans Ramattra had ever seen. Strong through will and by the Iris, you were strong enough to last his beatings. You were not a part of Overwatch, or even had any military background. You were simply a human civilian.

He, as much as he hated to say it, admired you back then. As much as he tried not to, no matter the countless fighting against his systems, he couldn’t help but think about what he did to you;

Countless days and weeks went by and yet you still hadn’t given up and died. He had beat you, kicking and punching every part of your body. He vividly remembered your screams as you cried out in pain over each onslaught. Of course, you spat back at him any chance you had, the blood spattering on his cowl, chest or feet which in turn only angered him more. 

Despite everything he had put you through, you never gave up fighting for your own life. He admired you to the point he became lenient, offering food and water to keep you breathing. He ordered some of his omnics to treat your wounds before he would abuse you once more a week or so after. He tortured you to the very brink of death, and yet you somehow survived. 

Null Sector was attacked a few months after you had been captured and taken there, but nobody was searching for you. Nobody knew you were even there. You laid under the rubble until you had enough strength to pull yourself out and you ran as far as you could.

Ramattra never saw you after the attack, and he shook the feeling of you being dead away. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he missed you back then. Whether he missed the violence, or truly missed you, he couldn’t quite place that feeling. Turns out, he missed you. 

Of course, it has been a year since then and he has long since tried to forget the whole ordeal and was trying to better himself. He has found peace even though somewhere deep inside of him, he still hates humans for what they did.

He slumps on his bed, head low as he thinks about everything. He can’t shake the screaming from back then and he fears he was spiralling back into his anger. He places his hands on his head, the metal tapping against his face plate. He lets out a low growl, irritated at himself for bringing everything back up. 

When he arrived at the Monastery, his brother said that there was a human living amongst them and that they meant no harm to him or to the others. Yet, despite Zenyatta saying this, he still believed otherwise and was cautious of you from the very first day. It took him this long to figure out that you were his prisoner all those years ago. 

Ramattra wants nothing more than to go over to your room and apologise for what he had done to you back then, but did you even remember? Do you remember what I did to you, he thinks to himself. What if you did remember but he brings it back to the surface and traumatises you again? He has long since changed his ways, wanting nothing more to do with Null Sector and to find peace within himself, but there was that turmoil inside of him again that he had only just gotten rid off. 

It pains him deeply, far greater than he would like to admit. 

The omnic lets out a low sigh, body deflating as he falls to the floor. Meditation was the only way to get rid of these thoughts… at least, that’s what happened the last time the memories of his dark past resurfaced. 

He crosses his legs as the hum of his body fills his room. No matter how hard he tries, the screaming returns and it only gets louder, his fists tightening in response. His head tilts slightly as the red lights on his forehead flicker. 

Erasing his memory was one thing he cannot do and he hates it. All he could do was remember the past and the pain.

…

The following day was nothing but cold and rainy. The only times you left the monastery and the confines of your room was to run down to the village to pick up some books that you had on hold that weren’t originally in the monastery library, and running through the garden to deliver a package to another monk. 

Arriving back, you shake off your jacket before hanging it up next to the door and then head to your room for a towel, however, you turn the corner and Ramattra was standing in your doorway.

“Everything ok?” You ask, approaching from behind, hoping to not startle him.

Ramattra turns to face you. “I was wondering where you were.” 

“I was out delivering a package.” You stand in front of him. “Can I?” 

He nods and moves to the side, letting you into your room. 

“Thanks.” Just as you enter, you sneeze. 

“You will catch a cold-”

“I know. That’s why I came to dry off.” You grab a towel from the bathroom as you dry your head and neck.

Thats when Ramattra freezes upon noticing the back of your neck when you turn away from him. He doesn’t say a word but his mind was racing with too many thoughts and screams of the past. 

There, scarred on the back of your neck;

‘ZERO’

“Hey!” You wave your hand in front of Ramattra’s face. “You still on?”

Ramattra shifts his head down slightly, optics scanning you as he replies. “Yes.” 

“Ok, well, I need you to move so I can leave my room.” You step back, looking at the omnic in front of you. 

“My apologies.” He steps aside, but before you completely go past him, he grabs your arm. 

You turn and look at his hand, then up at him, your face showing no emotion. 

He knew, but he wasn’t sure if you did. 

“Your neck. What happened?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.” You take your free hand and rub the back of your neck feeling the raised scar. 

“You do not remember?” He asks, his voice was low. 

You nod in response. “I don’t remember much before coming here. I didn’t realise I was scarred until Zen pointed it out when we were cleaning together.” 

Ramattra releases your arm, his hand falling by his side. He didn’t say anything for a moment. 

“What do you remember?” 

You completely turn and face him. “Being on a train coming here. Anything before that is fuzzy. Look, I have to go. We’ll talk more later, okay?”

He stares at you for a moment before nodding. He follows you out of your room before leaving in the opposite direction. 

Part of you wonders why he wants to know if you remembered anything before coming to Nepal. You truly had forgotten about the past but never really questioned it. You were happy in the Monastery and didn’t want that to change. 

Zen gently taps you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

“Is everything ok, [y/n]?” He asks with his head cocked to the side. 

You nod. “Yeah. Ramattra noticed my neck… Seemed troubled by it.” 

“Oh?” 

“He asked if I remembered anything.” You look away.

Zenyatta just looks at you, face expressionless as always. 

“As I said to him, the last thing I really remember is being on a train coming here… Anything before that is fuzzy…” You look back at your friend, a small awkward smile on your face. 

“Would you like to remember?” 

“What?” 

“Would you want to remember?” He repeats. 

“I heard you.” You look at him, examining his features, though getting nowhere. 

“Talk to him.” He places a hand on your shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze before leaving.

“You know, don’t you?” You watch as he leaves. “Please, tell me!”

Zenyatta completely ignores you as he disappears further into the Monastery. You stare in his direction with endless thoughts running through your mind. If he knew this entire time… 

You spent the rest of the day wondering what had really happened in your past and how did Zenyatta know? Why did he not tell you before? The scar on the back of your neck itched slightly which only irritated you more as you went about your duties. 

Ramattra’s schedule was just about to end when he saw you walking by. His fans speed up, the nervousness now rising in his body. 

“[Y/n].” He calls out to you. He attempts keeps his nerves pushed down.

Instantly you turn and look at him, forcing a small smile as he gestures for you to follow him, to which you do and walk behind him to his room. A slight warmth filled your cheeks. 

He sits down on the chair and leans forward, signalling for you to sit on the edge of his bed. He looks at you, not knowing what to say or even how to start it. 

“Zenyatta knows… Doesn’t he?” You break the silence as you sit down. 

The omnic nods, bowing his head. “I asked him not to say anything.” 

“You know my past too?”

Ramattra nods again.

“You were my prisoner…”

“What?” You stare at him, eyes wide. “You’re joking-”

He cuts you off. “I am not.”

You keep staring at him, eyes searching for answers. “Tell me the truth.” 

“You were my prisoner.” He repeats. 

Something about his tone makes you freeze.

“You say you do not remember, well… I am here to tell you.” He looks at you, his head tilting to the side. “Believe me or not, let me speak.” 

All you did was nod in response, an anxiety bubbling inside of you.

“A year ago Null Sector was raided and shut down. Before that, we were thriving and leading a new liberation for several years. Each attack I commanded always came with casualties from both sides. It was a literal war.” Ramattra keeps his optics on you, a warm yellow glow only to be hid by his face plate. “It was not long before my hatred grew and we ended up taking human soldiers and civilians back to our vessels. You happened to be one of them…” 

You stare at him, eyes wide with each word he said. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as you listen. 

“I had my team torture them… torture you… for answers. Even if they died, we did not stop. But you… You kept fighting.”

All you could do was stare at him. There was a disbelief coursing through your head as he continues.

He looks at you, wondering if he should go into detail. He didn’t want to, but something was telling him that you didn’t believe his words. 

“You were kept in secluded room at the back of the prison we had. It was reserved for those with potentially good information… but you had none, yet I decided to keep you. I kept watch of you through the cameras, your screaming and crying still haunt me to this day…” He looks down briefly before turning his gaze back to you. “I kept you there for months until we were shut down completely and destroyed. Part of me feared you were dead. I…” He hesitates for a moment. “I saw something in you that I never did with anyone else.” 

“Then… What about my neck?” You speak out. 

The lights on his forehead flicker before he answers. “I wanted to keep you permanently. To… Own you. I branded you, much against your will.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. 

“You wanted to own me?” 

He nods in response. “Yes. I wanted you.”

You stare at him again, still trying to comprehend the entire situation. “But… Why?”

“You were unlike any human I had ever met. You kept fighting when everyone else gave up-”

“When everyone else died, you mean.” 

“I suppose…” His voice was low before it clicks, resetting. He wasn’t used to doing this much apologising. Hell, it was probably the first time he felt guilty for what he had done. 

“You left me for dead, right?” 

His head jolts up to look at you. “That-” He stops speaking, trying to think. “No. Well, I mean yes, but I did not have a choice.”

“What exactly did you do to me?” You wince just at the thought of it. You knew exactly what he was. A ravager, a machine built for war. Only a part of a single evolution before all construction stopped of these beings. They… He, was built to kill with no hesitation, yet there you were, sat on his bed, listening to his excuses for what he did to you. You were alive because he refused to kill you, because he ‘saw something in you.’

You are scarred for life because of him, yet you still have your doubts. 

For the first time in his life, he feels uncomfortable. It was an entirely new feeling to him. He shifts in his seat, his head tilts to the side, lights flickering on his forehead again. 

“We-”

“No, what did you do to me?”

He hesitates before speaking. “The scars on your wrist are from the chains that bound you to the wall and floor to stop you from fighting back. That did not stop you, of course. That scar on your arm was from me cutting you, same on your stomach…”

You look down, rubbing your wrists in response. You wondered something similar when you arrived at the Monastery. The mention of the scar on your stomach was all the confirmation you needed.

“I beat you within inches of your life. I was… angry. Furious. I did not stop no matter how much you screamed. Even now, it still haunts me. I could not kill you… Something inside of me prevented me from killing you back then.” He lets out a small sigh, looking down at his feet. “You… were special.” 

The uncomfortable silence in the room returns. Neither knowing what to say until the omnic speaks out. 

“I am sorry… For everything…” He adjusts his position on the chair. “I wanted to use you. Back then… We needed someone as strong as you. I commanded my men to hold you down so I could brand you as mine. Zero… Zero was the name I had given you-” He stops speaking as his memory goes into overload. 

His fans whirr loudly in a sorry attempt to calm him down. You can see him struggling, the lights on his forehead flickering in quick succession. 

“You don’t need to continue…” You speak out, standing up from the bed. Carefully, you approach him. 

He looks up at you, and it was as if something just snapped inside of him. His body moves on its own, embracing you tightly. 

The sudden motion causes you to jump, the coldness of his chest pressing against your cheek, a starking comparison to your warmth. His hands easily wrap around your back, pulling you in closer, the tightness of it making you feel strange considering the situation. 

“I am sorry… I am so sorry…” His words were barely a whisper in your ear, a low electric rumble. You can hear the guilt in his voice. 

A ravager apologising… It was certainly something new.

You move your hands to gently tap his back, the heat he was releasing was way above his normal levels. 

“It’s okay.” You mumble against his chest, not really knowing what else to say. The quiet humming from his chest was loud in your ear, taking you back to the other day when the pair of you were meditating.

The both of you stay like that for a few moments before he let go of you. With his memory in overload, he couldn’t even get another word out. He stares at you, the expressionless face of his making you feel slightly uncomfortable as you look back up at him. 

“I- I need some time…” You speak out, your voice was quiet. There was so much to unpack, so much to remember. 

Ramattra could only nod in response, cursing to himself for not being able to respond. I am sorry…

Looking up at him one last time, you smile gently before walking out of his room, the anxiety rising inside of you as you make your way back to your own living quarters. 

The rain was still coming down as you pass the windows, it did not seem like it was going to let up anytime soon.

The next few days were going to be tense.

You avoided him, and rightly so. The hours turned into days and then a week. Everytime you’d see him, you would walk away, and he couldn’t blame you for doing it. In fact, he expected it. He knew it was going to take time, and a lot of it, to recover from what he had said. 

His scheduled never waivered, so you knew where to be when he wasn’t. You didn’t exactly know what to think. You believed him, of course you did, but you were conflicted. How can I forgive him? 

Another day had passed and the air outside was warm as you take a seat on a stone bench. A breeze passes your body, sending a chill down your spine, but you shake it off. Although the sky was littered with clouds, it was still a nice day. The sun behind you added a warmth to your body, the back of your neck slowly heating up. 

You bring a hand up and gently rub over the scar, a sigh escaping your lips as you look up to the sky. 

So many thoughts ran through your mind, and as much as you didn’t want to remember, you had to remember. 

“I want to remember.”

…

…

The pain ran through your body, the screaming ringing in your ears. There was no chance at fighting back, no way to fight back. All you could do was take it, take everything he hit you with. The blood pooled around your body as you lay there, weak and defenceless on the floor.

“Such a pitiful human.” He spoke, voice mocking you as he put his foot on your chest and pressed firmly. “Just give me what I want and you can leave.” He was lying, he knew he was, but he wanted to see you suffer. 

“Fuck you-” You spat, eyes narrowing at him. 

He looked down at you before he dug his foot into your chest, eliciting another scream from you. 

“That is no way to speak to your superior.” 

“Go to hell!” 

Before you could even blink, he pulled you up from the stone floor, hand around your neck in a vice grip and it was tightening. 

“Give me one good reason why I should not crush this pretty little throat of yours.” 

You spat blood at him, the red trickling down his face plate. In response, he squeezed tighter. 

“You will regret that.” 

Through struggled breaths, you kept your eyes locked on him.

He kept his grip firm on your throat before throwing you back down onto the floor, your head connecting with the stone floor and inevitably knocking you out. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed when you eventually woke up. Your ankles were shackled to the floor, arms raised above your head, slowly going numb from the lack of blood running through them.

“Finally.” A familiar voice spoke out as a hand grabbed your face. “Perhaps you have learned from your mistakes.” 

The hand moved to lift your head up. 

“How much more can you take?” His optics wandered to your bruised neck, purple and blue marks covering the flesh. He let go of your head before walking away. 

Your head dropped, facing the floor. Staggered breaths were the only noise heard in the room. With blurry vision, you looked up, wincing, staring straight at the omnic. 

“You humans and your looks. Pathetic. You are nothing.” He approached you again, towering over you. “You will die here.” The sinister tone in his voice returned as his fist came down and connected with your face.

A yelp escaped you, head twisting at the impact. 

“Then…” You started, spitting blood to the floor. “Just kill me.”

He was almost shocked by your words, a deep laugh followed behind as he gripped your face.

“Not yet. I am not done playing.” 

Ramattra squeezed your cheeks harder as he stared, the lights on his forehead flickering a furious red. He noticed your heartbeat racing before letting go, a sinister feeling rising inside of him. He kept his optics on you, before he turned and walked back to the wall.

He watched as you struggled against the restraints as his arms crossed over his chest. He wanted you to suffer, always on edge, not knowing what was going to happen next. 

Something shifted inside of him, making him stand as he pulled out a blade from his pocket. Your eyes widened as he approached you. 

“Don’t you dare.” You spat, clearly agitated. 

He laughed. “Or what?” 

You shut your mouth as he laughed again. 

“That is what I thought.” 

He dragged the blade across your stomach, the blood coming through the ever growing cut. You cry out, begging for him to stop. 

“You are in no position to demand anything.” 

He leaned in closer, whispering in your ear. 

“You are mine. I will do as I please.”

The venom that dripped from his voice scared you, and you had every right to be scared. Your body trembled, the cold hitting your skin as he left you there, shivering against the coldness of the chains. 

It took everything you had to not black out again, but another punch to the face had you out cold. 

Time had since passed, how long, you were unsure. Days? Weeks? 

Things had changed, and that terrified you to the core. He was almost nice, whether or not that was a part of his tactics made you tremble. His soldiers fixed you up, although sloppily, they made sure you were still breathing, that you were still alive. They gave you water and food, and he even let you sleep every now and then. 

He returned some time later after his last assault on your body, the bandages that covered your body only fueled his fire more. 

There was a unknown hesitation as he approached your body on the floor.

“Get up.” 

To his surprise, you did. He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out of the room and down the hallway before throwing you to the ground.

“Stay still, this will hurt.”

The sheer panic that raced through you as he stood behind you shook your body violently. Two of his soldiers came into the same room, grabbing your arms to stop you from fighting back. Their grip on your arms tightened as he pushed your head forward and the smell of burning metal surrounded you. 

“Don’t move.” 

Without another word, scorching hot metal connected with the back of your neck, the skin sizzled as you screamed out, trying to move away from the burning sensation. 

He held it to your neck for a few seconds before removing it, admiring the burnt mess of your neck. 

“You belong to me.” He spoke, tone dripping with malice as the soldiers let go of you, letting your body drop to the floor. 

Your heavy breathing filled the room before Ramattra turned you over with his foot, looking at your pained expression. He knelt down, hand grasping your chin. 

“You are mine.” 

Your body jolts up, breathing heavy as sweat drips down your cheeks. You must have screamed as Zenyatta appears outside of your room. 

“[y/n]!?” He runs over to you, placing a hand on your forehead. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What is the matter?”

Your breathing slows down at Zenyatta’s touch as you nod in response. 

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“You scared us.” He pulls up a chair and sits next to you. “We found you sleeping outside and you were cold to the touch.” 

“I fell asleep outside?” 

Zenyatta nods. “Brother Ramattra carried you inside.” 

“He did?” 

“Yes. He feared it was because of him.” 

“Yeah… It was.” 

The omnic titls his head.

“I remember…” You let out a shaky breath. “I remember everything he did to me…”

“He wants to fix it.” He speaks, placing a cool hand on your arm. “He is worried about you.”

“I know.” 

Silence fills the room before it was broken by a gentle knock at the door. You and Zenyatta look up, staring at the larger omnic in the doorway. 

“Ah, brother, we were just talking about you.” He rises from his seat, gently patting your arm before walking towards Ramattra. He gives a small nod before walking past him. 

“[y/n]...” He takes a tentative step forward.

“Ramattra…” You move your gaze away from him. “T-thank you for carrying me inside…” 

“It was nothing.” He lets out a small sigh before approaching you. “I… am sorry.”

The room was filled with silence once more as Ramattra sits down on the chair next to your bed. 

“I was worried.” He admits. “It is my fault you are like this. That… You are scarred because of me.” 

You shake your head. “You did what you needed to. I am still alive because you let me live.” 

“That does not excuse my actions.” 

“Ramattra,” You pause, looking at him. “It’s okay.”

“It is not okay.”

A small sigh escapes you as you reach your hand out to him. “It is okay. I’m telling you it’s okay.” 

The omnic looks up at you, with his head titled to the side. “After everything I have done to you…”

“We’re here now. As Zen would say, let’s not dwell on the past…”

Ramattra takes your hand in his as you smile at him, a soft expression on your face. His metal thumb gently grazes over the skin.

“[y/n]...” He looks down at the floor. “I-” He stops talking as your hand caresses the purple metal of his cheek. 

“I know. Let’s… Let’s move past this, okay?” Your smile was small as you bring his head up to look at you. “We can figure this out.”

He looks at you, a silent sigh escaping his body. “I would like that… I just do not know if I can forgive myself for what I have done to you.” 

“Ramattra, please. What’s done is done, we cannot change that. I finally get some closure after all this time.” Your thumb gently grazes the purple of his cheek. “I promise you, I’m fine.” 

He nods at your words. “There is so much I want to do to fix this.” 

“You do not need to do anything.” Your smile was warm as you look at him. “Your apology is enough.” 

Ramattra shakes his head. “It is not.” 

“It is.” 

“[y/n]...” He leans into your touch, bringing his own hand up to hold yours. 

“Come here…” You gently pull his head forward and he stands in response. Your arms wrap around his back and he feels the tightness of your hold. “I forgive you, Ramattra…” 

His hands were hesitant in returning the gesture, but as he places his hands on your back to hold you, a shaky sigh escapes him. He couldn’t quite process it - your forgiveness after everything, but there was one thing he did know. 

He was forgiven. 

#overwatch #ramattra #ramattra x reader #overwatch fanfiction #yazzfics #rewrite

[thewakingcloak]

The State of Things Present

this post was available for patrons a week early! please consider supporting me over on patreon!

I kept trying to make this post fancier and better and more engaging, and then I realized I was doing that thing where I make myself too overwhelmed to actually finish and post it. The other thing was I kept gunning for a once-a-week posting, and uh… yeah that's not sustainable. So here we go!

The Ghost of Spacefarer Present appears before you He whispers, very quietly, yet in a voice that resonates: "Time to resurrect the Spacefarer"

Ok so the spacefarer (me??) was very tired, but he's awake now and doing things!

Life status

We moved! My wife and kids and I packed up and headed some miles south of our previous house. It was a risk for sure. We didn't know how things would pan out. We really needed to get away from our old environment, our old town, our old house. We loved that house, and we'd said so to each other many times even as we were halfheartedly searching for a new one. But at some point that house had become too burdened with bad memories and traumas, not to mention that after the pandemic, we had no more real roots there. Everyone had moved away, the communities we were involved with had disbanded or changed. And anyway, my wife would be starting a new teaching job down south.

We were fortunate enough to find a new house we loved, and fortunate enough to be in a position where we could actually make the move. I'm aware this is a privilege, given the economy and the market, and so I can only express my thankfulness and consider it a blessing, especially as we healed through our grief.

I have an improved office now! This is where I work on my day job (software/web dev) and my unday job (Studio Spacefarer). With my genetics stacked against me, but also with my desire to be able to keep up with my kids and be there for my family, I collected a standing desk, a walking pad treadmill thing, and an ergonomic keyboard. I'm walking or at least standing most of the day now, which has made a surprising difference already.

I was gonna post a wider view of the office, but my 3yo son ran up while I was taking pictures and started "working" (mashing the keypad), so this is automatically the better pic. Them's the rules.

Anyway, in short, we made it, and it hasn't been a smooth ride the entire time, but it has been well worth it. I've been able to get back into gamedev, which has been a huge boon to my mental health too.

Speaking of… (ghostly drumroll)

Game status!

The good stuff. Here's where I'm at presently with Episode III!

The game is completable from start to end (definitely NOT feature complete)

Jumping, swimming, and dashing all work like a charm and are super fun

Three enemy types have been added, including custom A* pathfinding for the sea monster

Two new collection mechanics (one is heart containers, the other will be a small surprise)

Depth sorting and fake-3D, as mentioned previously, which lets me do lots of fun effects

Day/night are now on a new system, and cave darkness is now a thing (I tried to implement this in PD2 but couldn't figure it out)

Palette swapping for night and lighting effects now uses GameMaker's built in layer effects

Much of the game is now decorated

Updated the game's palette to be more pleasing

Better borderless windowed mode, frame toggling, etc. (I'd made a post about a third party plugin I used to do this previously, but not long after that, GameMaker added an official setting to be toggleable at runtime, so I switched to that… much easier lol)

New audio library which has been a MASSIVE boon (Juju's Vinyl)

New flexible debug/inspector mode which allows me to change values on the fly more easily

State machine rewrite using structs instead of data structures--extremely flexible and less  error-prone (in fact the data structures here were the #1 cause of crashes in Episodes I and II)

Save system rewrite, also using structs instead of data structures (thus fixing the #2 cause of crashes in the first two episodes)

Adjusted the way walls get displayed in interiors--will make a post on this later

Lots and lots and lots and lots of bug fixes

Post end status!

I'm not exactly sure how to wrap this up lol, but y'all can be encouraging me, if you have the emotional space to do so! There's still a lot left to do on PD3, and it can be very daunting at times.

Next post up will be looking forward to the future of Studio Spacefarer. I'm very excited about this! Keep an eye out!

#gamedev #indiedev #the waking cloak #devlog #devblog #game development #protodungeon #gamemaker

[vitanithepure]

Hi! I noticed you seem to be a fellow BG3 Gale connoisseur? Can you tell me what made you like him? I am starved for some more insights from people!

I'm so sorry if it's a bother, feel free to ignore me if so! >.<

Omg, asks like this are never a bother! You can write me any time with gaming related things, especially BG3 ones as I am - like so many others - so impatiently waiting for its release. It's safe to say it occupies 99% of my consciousness. 8 more days!

And you are not wrong with your assumption. I do like Gale! He's neat. He's great. He quickly became my favorite blorbo. I'll post it under the cut.

This is a point I should probably apologize, because you probably wanted a brief summary and I'll be giving an essay, but... yeah, I have a lot of thoughts about that man.

Like, look - if I were any kind of sexual I would be sapiosexual. At first glance Larian got me "oh boy, a know-it-all wizard, how original...", BUT I feel like they did manage to make Gale intelligent in a believable way. Why?

Gale knows all the trivia. He read an entire library or two worth of knowledge and probably memorized most of it. He knows his way around with words; it makes him charming and endearing. And yet intelligence is not wisdom and experience, so we learn of his past mistake(s) and how quickly he is willing to jump into next ones.

I mean, come on, willing to make a deal with Raphael? And betting on outwitting him? And his new bio description on the official website? (not sure how that will play out yet, I'm reserving judgment until we get to play it). Peak INT 16 and WIS 11 wizard behavior.

I often find people thinking about Gale as a manipulator, playing nice to get things from us and/or get in our pants (yikes to that last one). He would certainly be capable of that, sure - like i said, he's intelligent and charming enough for that. Do I think he would though? Nah.

I think Gale doesn't need to play nice - he just is. Because at the point of his story (which is straight up told in his bio) we meet him he already learned his lesson. Now Gale needs to deal with his past and is not, understandably, so forward with revealing it.

And I get it. I wouldn't want to spill my life's biggest mistakes after a few days' worth of knowing someone, but Gale doesn't have the luxury of time. So he asks us to put a little trust in him and he later reveals what was the point of it all - when you prove you do trust him.

Another thing people put to question is if he actually tells us the truth. I have nothing here, I do believe he is, but in light of (again...) the new bio I believe Gale might have undergone a minor rewrite and I'm no longer sure if the early access dialogues are up to date with it.

If they will not change then, yes, he is straight up omitting the fact he wanted to slurp up Mystra's godhood, and lying about the reason he got stuck with that orb of his in the first place. And I have no idea what to do with this, yet.

Overall I just think it all makes him a very interesting character and I can't wait to have my heart broken by another wizard with a cat. Because as much as I believe all romances will have a happy ending Larian already said it's a dynamic thing and companions do move on the morality scale during the story.

And l'm just so happy to be along for this ride!

Also, on a more superficial note: I have a weakness for pixel men about my age, and Gale looking at us with unabashed mischief like this:

Just works for me.

#I am always up for talking about this man #thank you so much for the ask! #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

[flowerslut]

i don’t think this is having the effect you wanted because i have never in my life been more curious about a fic than i have for call of the night

i’m laughing so hard. I feel like a parent who is about to talk to their teen about weed or alcohol like "I know I can't stop you from going out and looking for it. but I want you to do it responsibly."

alright. listen. it’s not a bad fic by any means—if I say "it's bad" my wife is gonna materialize and rip me a new asshole—it’s very fun and it’s long as fuck and I got real intricate with the politics and worldbuilding. its an AU that I built from the ground up with some kung fu panda influence if you really squint that has turned into a multi-story series which I’ve had an absolute blast working on. but here’s the thing: I started writing it when I was 16/17. in fact, I wrote the first 50k words of it during the first half of my senior year of high school (hand-written bc this was 2009) so when I found my old fanfic binder in 2017, and when I started rewriting it later that year, I finished it, but I didn’t rewrite that much of it. which is the problem. because the amount of crappy characterization, unnecessary info-dumping (so much telling, not showing), and weird narrative choices is so overwhelming in the first few chapters that it's been unbearable for me to look back on. I recently tried to reread it and was horror-stricken when I realized that I couldn’t do it bro 💀

again: it is not bad. it’s a very cool premise and a super fun and adventurous au. it's a very slow burn. it just has an insanely rough (poorly written imo) start. and since its my most popular twilight fic, and that's what people usually read first, i'm now in hell knowing how many people nope-out after the first few chapters (myself, included recently) thinking "damn. that was rough. next." the writing quality of the middle and end compared to the beginning is leagues better, but its just that first chunk that has me in hell.

but yada yada yeah I can't stop you so, tldr; in call of the night, humans and vampires coexist. the cullens are pseudo-politicians/public figures who help keep the peace. alice has lived her entire life in relative isolation because of her first, terrifying vision: that a man named jasper is going to murder her. so, boy is she in for a treat when she realizes her new coworker who skulks around the library is that Very Dude. and thats where the shit-show really begins. I have a tag ("cotn") with hundreds of posts surrounding the series, but I don't recommend looking at it unless you want to be spoiled for it and its sequel. but if you're going to do it, i'd rather you do it in the house (here you go 😔)

#cotn #listen i know plenty of you follow me bc of cotn and you love and adore it AND I DO TOO OKAY I DO #but now that i've written roots. i look at cotn (and even parts of witd tbh) and im like #'damn. i could do so much better.' AND I WILL 🔪 #gonna rework cotn a bit #edit witd too. and THEN you guys will get this novella and I can start chipping away at the third and final Big Story

[hauntedwitch04]

Big bad wolf

Serie: Beauty and the Beast

Mafia!Remus Lupin x reader

Words: about 1.5k words 

Warning: none, just a hot Remus and a confused reader (who wouldn’t be?) 

Author’s note: Hi everyone! Sorry it took that long, but I lost part of the work and I had to rewrite it again :(, but I think it came out even better than before. Hope you like it, sorry for any grammar error. Have a lovely day! 

P.s. if you didn't notice from my profile, I like Starry Night of Van Gogh a little bit too much (chapter spoiler without contest)

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

Moodboards

"Where are you taking me?" I ask him once we get to his apartment, but he continues on his way without looking back. His hand is tight around mine, but it doesn't hurt. His grip is gentle. I feel the scars on my skin, contrasting with his gentle touch. We arrive in front of the door to his studio, where I had never been. He opens the door and before me is a view of an almost aseptic studio, precise and clean. 

On the walls appear a couple of maps of the city with some signs and some papers attached. The desk stands out in the middle of the room, in front of it a couple of armchairs ready to welcome his friends, and enemies. Behind them is a sofa that sits in front of a fire. Next to it, on the right, a beautiful window that looked out over the city. Behind the desk there's a huge bookcase, full of books that clashed somewhat with the seriousness of the rest of the office. 

He walks  over to a section of books, moves one of them, and like a movie, a door from the bookcase opens. He waves me in, so I follow his advice and enter that mysterious opening to find a new wonder. 

The most beautiful library I have ever seen presents itself before me. That huge bookshelf entirely covers the circular walls of this room, leaving only a few spaces for windows, from where a light enters that makes that place even more magical. 

The shelves are filled with every book of different shapes and sizes. A long steel pipe runsincima to the bookcase, where a beautiful brass staircase runs. In front of the door, on the opposite side a staircase went up, leading to the second floor of that identical bookcase below. 

In the center of the room a small sofa and two armchairs are situated around a small table. What strikes me is that these are light blue, so different from the furniture in the rest of the apartment, which is black. 

Scattered around the room I see cushions on which one can sit, and I notice only later a record player, covered by some cloths that hid it, with a substantial stack of records beside it. 

This ethereal place reminds me of my image of heaven. I walk true the center of the room and look up at the ceiling, and begin to spin around as I look at a beautiful reproduction of Van Gogh's work, The Starry Night. (Sorry it is one of my favorite paintings, I had to put it up ;) ) 

I turn my gaze back to the man I left at the door. I see him smile at me, and finally his eyes do too. Before when he smiled, it almost looked like he was faking it, but right now I can see that his happiness is real and I can't help but be happy too. 

He reaches up with his hands in his pockets, his shirt is slightly unbuttoned and lets a little of his muscular chest show. At that sight I feel something arise in my stomach and I can't help but bite my lip and look up again, before he sees the obvious blush on my cheeks caused by those impure thoughts my mind can't help but think when it sees his body. 

"Do you like it?" He asks in a soft tone as he positions himself next to me. I feel the warmth of his body and can't help but move closer to him, as if drawn by a strange force. It's only been a few days since I met him and I can't help but be attracted to him, which leads me to wonder what happened to the girl who not less than two days ago hated him. I shake my head, and return to reality, and see his eyes on me, waiting for an answer. 

"Do I like her? I love her. This is exactly how I imagine heaven." I say with a sigh. 

"I'm glad about it. My mother also thought this was heaven, or at least she always dreamed of this place and imagined it as heaven. I made this bookstore in her honor. It's the place where I'm really myself, and I can let go, and no longer be the big bad wolf they paint me to be, but Remus." He continues, in a whisper, as if he didn't want to break the magic that had been created. 

"I love that painting, maybe it's my favorite ever." I whisper, continuing to look at the ceiling. He continues to stare at me, but I see him smile at my words. His right hand comes out of his pocket and falls down next to mine. Our pinkies brush against each other. 

"My mother loved that painting, even though I never fully understood its meaning." He confesses, in an almost curious tone. 

"The starry night is the most romantic image there is in my opinion, and the author depicts it with a touch of magic that makes it even more unique. Those stars so swirling that they seem to move almost seem to grab you and take you away on a journey, for a beautiful dream. Then not everyone knows how to appreciate the night, many don't linger to listen to it, to look at it in its entirety, but here all the nuances, sounds and emotions seem to come alive, and it's just...fantastic." I explain, not realizing that our hands clasped one another as I frantically explained. I turn to look at our intertwined hands, then look up and stare into his eyes. 

"Sorry, I talked too much." I mutter, lowering my gaze again. 

He places his other hand under my chin and lifts my face. 

"Don't apologize. It's a pleasure to hear you talk, believe me." He says seriously. I see his gaze move from my eyes to my lips. I feel my face move closer to his, until we breathe the same air. 

But something stops me, as if this is not the right time. I pull back sharply and see a veil of sadness in his eyes. Our hands break away and I start looking around again awkwardly, trying to find something to say to break the silence. 

"Have you read all these books?" I ask curiously. 

He smiles and shakes his head. 

"Not all of them, but most of them." He answers, then falls silent again. A few minutes pass before he says another word. "I know you don't like being locked up in the house, but I have no other choice as of today to keep you safe, and that's sorry. The least seemed to me to give you something to do. You can come here anytime you want and read anything you want, just don't go in that door." He says in a serious tone pointing to a door I had not seen, behind the stairs leading to the second floor. "That's my only rule, otherwise make yourself at home. I'll finally have someone I can talk books with instead of those two morons." 

"Hey, you little shit when we hear you." James and Sirius say simultaneously as they enter the door. 

"What are you two doing here now?" Remus asks in a mixture of tired and angry.

"The others have arrived, we need to have a serious talk now." The two of them say. He sighs and lets his shoulders go, stressed and exhausted from all that work, but nods. 

"I'll walk you to your room first, I'll be right there." They nod, and so we leave. 

The short journey from the bookstore to my room we spend in silence. 

When we reach the door he stops. 

"Well we've reached the end of the line. Good night Y/N." He whispers as he turns around, but I block him by grabbing his wrist. 

"People are wrong when they say that you are the big bad wolf, that you are the monster; you are the sweetest person, the most loyal friend and the most loving son I know. Don't let their judgment condition you." I tell him, looking him straight in the eye. "Good night Remus." I continue, as I leave a light kiss on his cheek as a greeting. I see him freeze for a moment as I close the door behind me. 

As soon as it is closed I lean against it and take a deep breath still not believing what I have done. 

Taglist 

• @shadowolf993 • @sadblueberry721 • @goldenharrysworld • @fairy-witch-bitch • @xoxoloverb • @idli-dosa • @rainelikerain • @s-we-e-t-t-ea • @daph-505 • @nyx2021 • @vjmoral • @duda  • @drayshadow • @siriusstwelveyears • @highwayhunch • @uwiuwi • @itsmeseph • @sassyrebelrockerprincess • @highwayhunch • @siriuslydestiny • @haushinka27 • @moonysluvrboy • @maraurderssimpcuzwhytfnot • @sgchamberlain • @nyotamalfoy  @eichenhouseproperty • @mxmxnto-mori • @anonimusy • @raajali3  • @hayleysimp  • @omenhel

#remus lupin au #andrew garfield x reader #remus x reader #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #mafia!au #mafia!marauders #mafia!remus #Mafia!remus lupin x reader #becky's writing #hauntedwitch04's writing

[practically-an-x-man]

Your OCs have to go into witness protection, where do they go, what are their new names and jobs? (And yes, I see Kestrel and Nikoletta, who are giving me "Really? You must be joking" looks...)

Oooh thank you! This is a really neat question!

Rae: Since she's already fluent in a lot of different languages, it's pretty easy for her to settle into a different life. She ends up in France, teaching English-language immersion for a public school under the name Raquel Moreau.

Robin: This one's tough... she's a performer, so a lot of people have seen her face and name before. She has to move across the country, and ends up working a low-profile job stocking shelves for a grocery chain under the name Melody Laurence. She doesn't get out much, since she's worried she'll be recognized. Peter isn't technically supposed to visit her, but they can't exactly stop him when he can zip across the country at a moment's notice

Madison: Um... how? She has a lot of extremely visible, identifiable physical mutations. The good news is, she'd be hard to identify without them, all she really needs to do is use Hank's serum every day and that's enough of a disguise. She ends up in Miami, working as a lifeguard on South Beach under the name Victoria Smythe.

Ophelia: She has to give up her hero work as Argonaut, which hurts her, but the rest is pretty easy to acclimate to. She's fluent in Italian already, so they move her out of the States entirely and settle her in Sicily, where she works as a civil architect with the name Luisa Abbiati

Jasper: Still works as a nurse, but is moved to a small town outside Denver, Colorado. They grow out their hair a little and stop dying it, and put together a wardrobe that's a little less flashy. Their new name is Rowan Evans

Katherine: Ends up moving back to the South, though is placed in Alabama rather than Tennessee (she is Not pleased about that). She works as a line cook during the day and spends her weekends organizing files for the local library archives, under the name Lashana Wells.

Kestrel: Well, you're right... they're not pleased about this at all, it took a lot of effort to build the life they have and they're honestly a little pissed at having to rewrite it all. The actual switch isn't too hard, since they can just shapeshift into another form and start using a different name and nobody would be able to tell the difference, but they're pretty miserable to have to give up their life as Kestrel.

Quinn: I mean... once she de-punks herself, she's actually pretty invisible. She lets her hair grow out and switches up her wardrobe, and bounces between menial jobs under the name Ramona "Mona" Ellis

Eris: Oh, they're terrible about this. They've been alive for centuries, but never once thought to switch up their identity. They're just... Eris. They're given an identity as a kickboxing instructor named Bellona Hardy, but that only lasts about a month before they get sick of it and just go back to their usual life (and spook the hell out of Rick when they suddenly pop back up in his apartment like nothing happened). They're sure they can take whoever's trying to hunt them down, anyway.

Nikoletta: Yeah, she's not thrill about this either. She's like "I literally just got out of prison, I'm happy for the first time in my entire life, and you expect me to leave?". She's moved to Salem, Oregon and given a job running historical tours for vacationers... which actually turns into a scam fairly similar to the one she ran in New Orleans. She knows she's not supposed to communicate with anyone from her normal life, but... there are rats in Salem, and she can't control what all they hear...

(I know you're not familiar with the Suicide Squad but another member of the team can control rats, so that's how Nikoletta subtly stays in touch with them)

#my friends!!! #answered asks #my ocs #jasper wilson #ophelia octavius #madison douglas #oc quinn/aces #oc katherine johnson #oc kestrel #oc eris #nikoletta bordeaux #rae mckinney #robin cassidy

[galpalaven]

wip wednesday

It’s been getting hard to find alone time now that Saoirse is a real part of the team. It wasn’t something he’d really thought much about, at first. They hadn’t been busy for a while, what with tracking Murphy from one end of this god-forsaken planet to the other, so he’d forgotten what it was like to get missions regularly. Of course, Saoirse takes it all in stride, brown eyes glimmering and eager with the temptation of new information with every new mission they get assigned. More often than not, she can be found camped out in the library in her down time, making her way through Nate’s fuck-off huge collection of books from the dawn of time. He doesn’t find her there this weekend, though. Today, she’s curled up on her bed, wrapped up in a soft throw blanket, watching a movie on a laptop set up on the end of the bed.  Mason almost feels the urge to leave when he pokes his head in after she called for him to come in — something about the domesticity of her sitting on her bed in her pajamas with the summer rain beating against the window by her head feels… private. It feels private and he feels like an intruder for half a heartbeat. And then she grins that fucking grin that makes his stomach flip with excitement, so happy to see him that her entire face has lit up, and that thought dissolves into the air like smoke.  “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, leaning on the door as he closes it behind him. “You busy?” Saoirse shakes her head. “No. Just taking advantage of my day off. I haven’t been able to unwind in a while.” Mason nods, eyes drawn to the laptop as the characters in whatever movie she’s watching start screaming bloody murder. It makes him smirk a little — of course she’s into horror movies. Why wouldn’t she, with her non-reaction to finding out that vampires are real? “You want me to leave?” “What? No!” Mason smirks as her eyes widen and she sits up, one hand reaching toward him as if to stop him (despite the fact that he hadn’t moved). “No, I — I haven’t seen you much lately outside of missions. Stay. Please.” Raising an eyebrow, Mason lets his head tip back a bit as he pushes off from the door, languidly closing the distance between them. Her eyes dilate as she watches him get closer, heart picking up speed. The temperature of the room starts to rise as Mason rests a hand on the headboard, leaning over her, letting his gaze drag across her features. There’s an openness about the way she looks at him when they’re alone like this that’s intoxicating, and he smirks down at her when she bites at her lower lip with anticipation. “And how much of me are you wanting to see?” he purrs, excitement stirring in his chest at the way she squirms on the mattress, eyes dropping to his lips. Her smile softens just a touch, dark eyes coming back to his as she says, “I always want to see as much of you as you want me to see. Though, I do have my goals.” He snorts. “Goals?” Saoirse nods, grinning as one hand settles high on one of his thighs. “Someday, I’m gonna know exactly how many freckles you have and I’ll be able to draw them from memory.” She pushes herself into a sitting position, shifting until she’s sitting on her knees, sliding her hands up his chest until she can wrap them around his shoulders. “It’s like mapping the stars. I want to draw constellations on your skin.” Mason’s heart stutters in his chest, breath hitching as she saves him from struggling for something to say by sinking her lips into his. She kisses him softly, fingers sliding through his hair.

writing some fluff in between working on the first chapter of my rewrite ;w;

#specialist agent m #twc #twc mason #twc m #twc detective #the wayhaven chronicles #wip wednesday

[kafus]

story update time! most of this is from yesterday when i was calling a friend on discord lmao. i got to celestic town and after talking to all the npcs i advanced the story

man cyrus really thinks in black and white huh. like there's either full balance with no change, or he has to rewrite the entire world in his ideal image or whatever. can very much see why his, essentially, cult recruitment works so well. it's bold and sounds noble and cuts out nuanced thought lol

at first i was slightly taken aback by the implication that change = bad at all, but after coming back to these screencaps i am pretty sure she means fundamental change with how the human spirit etc works, in reference to cyrus wanting to literally rewrite the universe and the mural of the lake trio behind everyone here

and of course his threat in this situation is the destruction of an ancient illustration of the deities he seeks to control and destroy. not only is that symbolic for obvious reasons but this is an adult man with supposedly more power than you (a child) and the elderly person next to you who is able to fuck up a cave wall with his pokemon or whatever. he's trying to intimidate you. i won of course btw lol

further confirming my thoughts earlier, cynthia's grandma goes on to say that sinnoh is filed with the memories and thoughts of countless people and pokemon... why would anyone want to change those memories or thoughts? the world IS wonderful actually. the indomitable human spirit etc. and pokemon spirit SSFDKSDFKS

anyways ty for the surf HM SDFKSFDKSFD i somehow forgot to take a picture of it but she mentions that the HM belonged to cynthia, but she doesn't use it anymore. i'm assuming this means cynthia either has all her surf users, has spare surf HMs, or literally just flies everywhere. regardless i just think that's cool. my surf HM is the one cynthia used once a long while back. Neat!

oh and last time i posted about story i made a joke about how nonchalant everyone is about terrorism but i forgot this dialogue happens after the encounter with cyrus in the cave LMAO i really wasn't wrong, that was intentional! cynthia says straight out that she thought they were harmless. everyone is treating galactic like delinquent teenagers spouting nonsense who aren't actual threats. especially after the bomb that went off in the great marsh caused little to no damage, i guess. sinnoh isn't routinely experiencing great threats of violence or threats of destabilizing the region.

after our conversation cynthia recommends me to go to canalave city to check out the library and whatnot, which i can now do because i have surf, but first here's the dialogue when interacting with the dialga and palkia murals. i just think it's neat

i did indeed visit the library and since it's been a while since i paid attention in here i actually re-read all the sinnoh myth books. i'm not going to show them as screenshots here since there's way too much text and i don't have interesting things to say about all of it, but all of their text is written out word-for-word here on Bulbapedia if you've never read them before and want to check them out

i do have a FEW stray thoughts though...

in "Sinnoh's Myth" about the lake trio it says:

Bearing with them the power to make vast lands, they rise again.

as far as i know this is the only time that the trio are referenced to have the power to "make vast lands" which feels kind of out of place. like these are the beings of knowledge, emotion, and willpower, not land sea and sky like the hoenn trio or something LOL this really just feels like a throwaway line without much meaning? perhaps you could interpret as them giving people the power to create land but that's a stretch. it is probably not that deep and just awkward writing tbh

in "Veilstone's Myth" it says:

Asked he, "Why do you hide?" To which the Pokémon replied... "If you bear your sword to bring harm upon us, with claws and fangs, we will exact a toll." "From your kind we will take our toll, for it must be done." "Done it must be to guard ourselves and for it, I apologize."

there is the interpretation that this is about Giratina since veilstone is the closest city to Turnback Cave where you can find giratina, and at the end of the myth it says "Seeing this, the Pokémon disappeared to a place beyond seeing..." which could be a reference to the distortion world. however, i think there's also a counter-argument to be had here since giratina is considered forgotten by sinnoh as a whole and later in the game cynthia remarks on how it is missing in the myths - she spends a good chunk of the game researching this in the background. so it'd be kinda weird if there was just something directly written about dialogue from giratina in the library.

HOWEVER that being said i think it's definitely still Possible and if it is true that this is about giratina, it puts giratina in a more sympathetic light. i jokingly call giratina Pokemon Satan a lot (in reference to him being the "evil" one as opposed to arceus, not an actual deep reference to christianity or the actual story of satan) but this frames giratina's actions as well intentioned or in self defense, which makes him a lot more interesting as a deity imo. personally i'm not sure whether i believe this is about giratina or not

lastly, while this is well known i still wanna talk about it, in "A Horrific Myth" it says:

Look not into the Pokémon's eyes. In but an instant, you'll have no recollection of who you are. Return home, but how? When there is nothing to remember? Dare not touch the Pokémon's body. In but three short days, all emotions will drain away. Above all, above all, harm not the Pokémon. In a scant five days, the offender will grow immobile in entirety.

this is pretty directly referencing uxie (knowledge), mesprit (emotion), and azelf (willpower) in that order. portraying the lake trio as dangerous and powerful entities that can literally wipe your memories or take away your emotions is interesting juxtaposition to them supposedly being the ones that blessed humans with the ability to feel joy, have memories, and do things... and not only that, they don't seem to want to use that dangerous power either, but it seems to be out of their control - uxie has its eyes always closed (so you can't look into its eyes), mesprit flees from you (that's why it's a roamer) and azelf is able to enter someone else's body (to avoid harm). they're probably so damn secluded in these lake caves so that they don't hurt anyone. they're good natured gods i suppose

sinnoh mythology is very cool and why i love this region so much but anyway i'm going to make a Gameplay Update post as well in a bit SDFKSF

#kiki was here #kiki.txt #kiki plays games #pt playthrough #long post

[redheadgleek]

Books read July-September

July The Grace of Wild Things by Heather Fawcett. A completely enchanting Anne of Green Gables retelling. Utterly delightful and unique. Book Lovers by Emily Henry. My first book that I’ve read of hers and it set high standards for the rest of them. I loved the characters, I loved the romance, and it just made me feel all the feelings. The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea by Axie Oh (audio). A retelling of a Korean fairytale that I knew nothing about. I loved the voice actor (she sounded a lot like Christina Chong from Strange New Worlds). Under the Whispering Door by T.J. Klune (audio). Drove to Yellowstone and back and this was one of my listens. I think it was even better as an audiobook – the voices were great. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. I loved this book and I didn’t think I would, but it was written for my generation and dealt a lot with college and nostalgia and evolving friendships. A House with Good Bones by T. Kingfisher. I don’t like her horror as much as I like her fairy tales and fantasy. A Taste of Gold and Iron by Alexandra Rowland. A m/m romance set in a fictional Islamic-like world. The world building was fantastic, the magic building was disappointing, and the romance was sweet, if slow-building. The Celebrants by Steven Rowley. I almost gave up on this entirely after the first chapter, because it felt pretentious and dull and “look how adult we are because we are talking about using drugs”, but I kept reading because I liked the premise and by about half way through, I realized that i really liked the story and most of the characters. College nostalgia seems to be my thing right now, and this really captured that friendship – they just all needed less reliance on substances when having conversations. It made me want to do something similar with my friends.

August: Strange Planet by Nathan Pye. I really like his comics so this was a fun quick read from the library. In the Lives of Puppets by TJ Klune (audio). The book on the drive back from Yellowstone. I didn’t really like the voice actor, which is surprising because I loved his voices in The House in the Cerulean Sea. The rhythm of his voice was off-putting. Thunderhead by Neal Shusterman. Second book of the Arc of the Scythe series. A very solid second book. Nottingham: The True Story of Robyn Hood by Anna Burke. A gender swapped Robin Hood story – fast read and fun. The Emperor’s Soul by Brandon Sanderson. Friend recommendation. My first Brandon Sanderson read. This was a well developed little novella and an ending that surprised me and yet fit quite well. The Color of Money: Black Banks and the Racial Wealth Gap by Mehrsa Baradaran (audio). Truly depressing but important look at how systemic racism and blatant racism lead to the wealth gap. Anxious People by Fredrik Backman. Lovely book, with interwoven characters, and plenty of gray humor. The Moon by Night by Madeleine L’Engle. I had a hankering to reread this after my failed to launch summer romances. Definitely felt the age of this book (written in the 1960s) and the pacing is much different than I remembered, but still some sweet parts. Light from Uncommon Stars by Ryka Aoki. I don’t even know how to describe this book. Space opera meets Faust? Foster by Claire Keegan. So much atmosphere packed in this short story. Beach Read by Emily Henry. Not quite as good as Book Lovers, but a close second. They just never read on a beach… Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land by Toni Jensen. Book club. This was unexpectedly powerful and the theme of gun violence through was subtle but important. People We Meet on Vacation by Emily Henry. This was definitely a “you are my story had I had done what I could not do” for me so it probably hit me a little differently than others. It worked well as a When Harry Meets Sally rewrite. Thornhedge by T. Kingfisher. A short Sleeping Beauty retelling of a sort. I adored Toadling. Meet the Austins by Madeleine L’Engle. Went back to read book 1 since I felt like I had missed things with the Moon at Night. I don’t know if I’ll read the whole series again. Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan. I keep expecting really terrible things to happen to her characters so I’m on edge when reading, but it’s never as bad as I fear.

September: Happy Place by Emily Henry. I was quite in my unhappy place by the end of this book and could grumble about it for hours. The Toll by Neal Shusterman. I can understand why there was some disappointment with the ending of the trilogy but I thought it was quite fitting and I loved the last chapter. Dinners with Ruth: A Memoir on the Power of Friendships by Nina Totenberg. Made me really miss Ruth Bater Ginsberg, but I also liked the focus on how friendships enrich adults lives (I’m liking this theme of friendship much better than the problems with mothers of the first half of the year). A Deadly Education, The Last Graduate, and The Golden Enclaves by Naomi Novik. Friend recommendation. I found the 1st person narrative to be claustrophobic as it was all stream of consciousness and the world-building a little too pretentious, but the story was still enjoyable. Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall. His books are always hit or miss for me and this one fell into more of the miss bucket – the mystery solved itself halfway through, the next quarter was my least favorite romance trope, and then it was off for another mystery.

Currently reading: Firekeeper’s Daughter (tried this one on audio and it was too much teenager angst, so reading it instead, Braiding Sweetgrass (audio), The Romance Rx (I’m so determined to find a good doctors in training story. I’m a quarter of the way through and can tell you that this won’t be it).

Friend recommendations still to go: The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan, Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel, Sweet Like Jasmine by Bonnie Gray, Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt.

#reading #books #books 2023

[sillybouquetsoul]

Cloud Castles - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Acting (ao3 link)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 1.7k

Pairing: Aisha/Sein

Story summary: They dance just out of each other’s reach, but each time brings them closer together.

OR

Aisha and Sein navigate through the dark fairy tale of their own making, one encounter at a time.

Chapter Summary: Aisha tries her hand at rewriting a story.

The book propped in Aisha’s arms is pushed down, and Aida’s beaming face takes its place. 

“Aisha, let’s do a play!” Her sister’s enthusiasm is infectious. Aisha can’t find it in herself to get angry at her. 

“What play?” 

“Oh, you know my favourite one. The Three Dwarves, of course!” 

Aisha groans. “We’ve done that so many times.” 

“Because it’s a classic! And it works best with four people,” Aida tugs the book clean out of Aisha’s hands, and like a fool, Aisha lets it go. “Come on. Carlo and Nemo already agreed. We just need one more person!” 

Aisha knows it’s a lost cause, but she asks anyway. “What about Sein?” 

Aida sighs. “He says he’ll only join if you play the main character. But that’s okay, I can take turns with you! You play the female lead and then I will, so we both get to act with Sein!” 

So, not a flat-out no. There’s still hope. But Aisha is tired of playing the same role. Ideally, she would exert the bare minimum effort that would satisfy Aida, and also maximize any opportunity to make Sein uncomfortable. Acting seems to be one of his pain points. She should, if she can, take advantage of his conditional response. 

Especially after the manoeuvre he pulled on her that hot summer day so many months ago. Her bottom lip tingles with the memory. 

“Sure, I can join you. I’ll play the lead so Sein will join us as well, but,” she holds up a finger before Aida can celebrate too soon. “On one condition.” 

Aisha’s mind comes alive with ideas. A smile grows on her lips, and she can almost taste the tantalizing sweetness of vengeance. 

“Let me revise the story.” 

After promising Aida that she would finish rewriting the story in two days, Aisha’s routine of reading in the library during the daytime switches over to writing. She requests for a stack of fresh parchments and inkwells in preparation for the project, which fills her with excitement. 

Reading and acting out The Three Dwarves is one experience; rewriting it is another entirely. 

She spends the first day discarding more drafts than saving them. She only leaves the library for meals and bathroom breaks; the remainder of her time is devoted to writing at the desk. Engrossed in writing, she even loses track of time. When she looks up, the sky outside the window has darkened, and the candles around the room are lit. 

Aisha sets down the ink quill to rub her aching eyes. She wonders how she could have missed a servant coming in to light the candles. It’s rather considerate of them, though also unusual because if they knew she was in the library, they left her alone. 

“Good evening, Aisha.” She jolts in her seat, lifting her head to see Sein standing beside a shelf. He holds a book in his arms, as always. From the distance and wavering candlelight, Aisha can’t make out which book. 

“Why are you… oh, it’s nighttime. You mentioned before that you enjoy reading here at night.” 

“Indeed. I usually carry one candle around for myself, but seeing as you were still here, I took the liberty of lighting all the candles in this space,” Sein comes forward, stopping at the edge of the desk. “I hope you didn’t strain your eyes too much.” 

He studies the mess of parchment papers and ink stains. He looks wide awake at this late hour, while Aisha’s body is now suffering the aftereffects of hunching over the desk all day. Her back is bound to ache badly tomorrow, and she’s not even halfway through the rewrite yet. 

As Sein leans closer, probably to read her writing, Aisha quickly gathers the written parchment and holds them close to her chest. 

Sein’s eyes drift from the papers to her, one eyebrow arched. 

“They’re not done yet. You’ll get to read them tomorrow.” If I manage to finish writing by then.  

He withdraws with a slight smile. “Ah. Then I’ll look forward to reading it tomorrow.” 

She waits for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He takes the couch adjacent to the desk, a little too close for comfort. Aisha debates whether she should ask him to leave; ultimately, she decides that it’d be rude, because their reading times have never overlapped until tonight. Now is Sein’s turn to read in the library if he wishes, and she’s encroaching on that time. 

“Will you play the lead this time?” 

“I am, so this means you will act too.” Aisha states, watching his face for any negative emotions. 

Even if Sein finds the idea of acting in a children’s fairy tale repulsive, he doesn’t reveal anything.  “Of course,” he agrees readily, leaning his head against his palm. “I don't break my promises. If you’d like me to act in this one, then I will.” 

“It’s not about whether I want you to act, because I don’t. It will make Aida happy if everyone plays a part, so this is for her.” Aisha corrects. 

Why does he have to phrase it like that? Like he’d do anything she asked of him. 

Sein hums. “If that’s how you want to think, I won’t refute it.” 

Candlelight dances in his eyes, and the faint smile he usually wears has faded away. When Sein isn’t smiling, he looks intimidating and impossible to approach. Out of Madam Sylvia’s children, Aisha thinks he’s the most memorable one; his noble features are strikingly beautiful. Aida had acknowledged his appearance since the first time they met, but it took ages for Aisha to accept it. 

Step siblings in fairy tales are almost always portrayed as deformed creatures because of their inherent penchant for wickedness and cruelty. He is Madam Sylvia’s son after all, and apples don’t fall far from their tree. So for the longest time, Aisha refused to think of him as handsome. 

But the candlelight softens the sharp lines of his face, just enough that the tension seeps out of Aisha’s shoulders. Perhaps letting her guard down around him is unwise—and she has seen firsthand how terrifying he can be, holding a bloody knife instead of a book—but for the moment, she puts those flyaway thoughts to rest. They would only distract her, and Sein is already a major distraction by himself. 

“Please don’t talk to me while I’m writing. I really do have to finish this.” Aisha says airily, returning her attention to the parchment. 

He doesn’t respond, but when she glances over after a few minutes, he seems focused on his book. Other than the turning of the page, the library is quiet, just how Aisha likes it. She’s glad that Sein is considerate enough to not initiate a conversation, otherwise she can’t concentrate on writing. 

So Aisha dips her quill and resumes her task. She’ll stop once she reaches the halfway point. 

Aisha wakes up on a firm surface. Not her bed. 

The ceiling above her is high and vaulted. The air also carries the scent of paper and ink. Not her bedroom. 

She sits up, every inch of her body protesting at the movement. She’s still wearing yesterday’s day dress; the fabric is wrinkled from her sleeping in it. The sunlight shining through the windows is what wakes her up, and she realizes she's slept on the couch in the library. The blanket covering her body slips down, pooling at her waist. It’s an unfamiliar blanket, definitely not from her own room. 

The last thing she remembers is writing… Sein was also there, though he was reading. 

She has no memory of falling asleep, nor moving from the desk to the couch. Someone moved her, and also gave her a blanket. Annie, perhaps? 

Aisha doesn’t waste time pondering her mysterious helper. She collects the stack of written parchment, intending to keep them in her room. Just as she’s about to nudge the library door open, someone pulls it open from the outside, causing Aisha to stumble. 

A firm hand catches her shoulder. Aisha looks up, breath sticking in her chest. 

Why him? Anyone but him. 

“Good morning, Miss Aisha.” Sein greets her first. 

She straightens, but his hand stays on her shoulder. Suddenly, she’s all too aware of her unbrushed hair, wrinkled dress, and ink-stained fingers. She lowers her head self-consciously, unwilling to look at him. “Good morning Sein. My apologies, but I’m in a hurry, so if you could let me pass—”

Some of the parchment slips and falls, landing in a heap around the floor. Aisha internally curses, bending down to retrieve them. In front of her, Sein also crouches, reaching for the pieces that fell further away. 

“Still not fully awake, I see.” He comments, amused. 

“Don’t read them,” Aisha says sharply as she notices his eyes running across the parchment. “Give that back, please.” 

Sein doesn’t move. “Interesting.” 

“Sein,” Aisha snatches the parchment out of his hand. “Goodness. Would you read an incomplete story?” 

He looks at her. 

“I suppose not, but I already know how The Three Dwarves goes. How far can you deviate from the original?” 

“If this is a trick to convince me to spoil my rewrite, I’m not falling for it,” Aisha huffs. “Wait and see.” 

Sein stands and extends a hand. Aisha frowns, but eventually accepts it. His hand is larger and warmer than hers, and she’s momentarily glad that her glove alleviates most of the physical contact. Once she’s on her feet, he lets go. 

“Are you planning to sleep in the library again tonight?” 

“I will try not to fall asleep,” Aisha says. “The couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep.” 

“Would you prefer that I wake you up if you do fall asleep? I could have brought you to your room last night, but that was a great distance away, and I didn’t want to risk waking both you and Aida up.” 

“You carried me to the couch?” Aisha repeats in a daze. “I thought… I thought it was Annie.” 

Sein shakes his head. His amusement grows with her discomfort. “I even let you borrow one of my blankets. Was it warm enough?” 

“It was sufficient,” she says calmly, though she’s fuming at the notion of Sein touching her again. How meddlesome and annoying. “But not to worry, I won’t let that happen again.” 

“You’re light as a feather. I don’t mind.”

Of course he doesn’t mind, because the humiliation belongs to her and her alone, and for some reason he finds great pleasure in embarrassing her. She turns tail and walks away. It takes a lot of effort to not break into a sprint. 

Even sprinting doesn’t feel fast enough to escape from Sein.

<< previous: chapter 1 <<

#aisha manhua #aisha #sein #aisha x sein #aisha/sein #aisha and sein are teenagers here #fanfiction #ongoing #chapter 2 #cloud castles #ch 41 and 42 updates wrecked me #how can i wait until april

[kradogsrats]

I'm gonna have to rewrite several chunks of this fic, including this particular one, because I've apparently made Kpp'Ar about 80% too autistic... but the fact that I wrote it like 2 weeks ago made me have a wheezing fit at the line about Viren's "finery" in that one episode:

“Is that what you're wearing?” Viren, a spoonful of honeyed oatmeal halfway between the bowl and his mouth, looked down at his clothing, then back up. "What?" Kpp'Ar looked at him impatiently. “You heard me. Is that," he made a small gesture that nonetheless encompassed Viren's entire body, "really what you're wearing today?” Not long after he’d gotten settled in Kpp’Ar’s house, the irritable mage had marched him through the city to a tailor’s shop, where he’d simply tossed the tailor a small purse of coins and indicated Viren, saying only, “Make him presentable.” The next several hours had been a whirl of measuring and fitting and adjusting of more clothing than Viren had ever imagined wearing—shirts and trousers and vests, all in soft wool and fine linen. A few of the shirts and vests were even trimmed with gold thread at the cuffs or hem, which he'd been certain was far too much, but Kpp'Ar had only nodded.

It had been overwhelming, even if most of the new wardrobe—and what a thing, to have a wardrobe—was practical, sturdy trousers and undecorated shirts easily cuffed out of the way. He'd taken weeks to feel even slightly comfortable wearing them, and almost cried when he discovered he'd stained a sleeve carelessly leaning his forearms on the table. Kpp'Ar had received his stammered, increasingly frantic apologies with ominous silence, then simply showed him where the various solvents brewed for removing stains were kept and waved him away, untroubled.

About to affirm that yes, obviously the plain work clothing currently on his body was what he was wearing that day, Viren paused. It was far from the strangest abrupt questioning he'd received from Kpp'Ar, but still strange enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck with suspicion. "Why?" he asked, carefully. “What’s today?”

“We’re going to the castle,” Kpp'Ar said, as if that were something Viren had already been told and ought to remember.

“The castle,” Viren repeated. “As in, the royal castle?”

“Do you know of another one? Don't ask pointless questions, boy.”

Viren bit back a sarcastic reply regarding the pointlessness of Kpp'Ar's own rhetorical question. Such remarks were usually lost on him, anyway—Viren had yet to determine whether he truly failed to comprehend them or only pretended such, given the rare glimmer of his own, extraordinarily dry, wit. It was also possible that he was mistaking the occasional ironic coincidence around what was otherwise total sincerity for a sense of humor.

“Why are we suddenly going to the castle?” he asked, instead.

“Unfortunately, a royal summons cannot be refused.”

"A royal summons?" Viren finally put his spoon down. It wasn't going to make it to his mouth any time soon, and at the morning's current rate of stunning revelations, he'd probably wind up dropping it and splattering oatmeal everywhere. "What could the king possibly—"

Kpp'Ar silenced him with a look. "That is a matter between him and me, and thus no concern of yours. While I am occupied, you will avail yourself of the royal library."

Viren immediately perked up, any misgivings forgotten. The clerics of Katolis had collected and preserved texts on all manner of topics for centuries. Kpp'Ar owned more books than he had ever imagined in once place, but had mentioned several times—possibly with a touch of envy—that the royal library held even more. Given Kpp'Ar's general disdain for the city and even more so for the castle, he hadn't really expected to ever see it.

"If you’re going to get ready, go do it." Kpp'Ar's scolding voice interrupted his brief, book-filled reverie. "The carriage will be here for us in half an hour. If you're not on it, you'll be walking."

Viren shoveled the rest of of his oatmeal into his mouth as fast as he could eat, then scampered to his room.

Twenty-five minutes later, he joined Kpp’Ar on the front steps. There hadn't been time to bathe, but he'd scrubbed his face and managed to tame his hair by carding wet fingers through it, and he'd brushed his teeth. He'd also, of course, put on his best trousers and shirt, and the open, long-tailed vest that by its cut showed he labored with his mind, rather than his hands.

He’d been keen to see what his mentor considered to be proper dress for an audience with the king, and so was deeply let down when he clattered down the front stairs and found Kpp’Ar wearing exactly what he wore every time they left the house. Viren couldn’t tell if he had even shaved, though it looked like might have at least made an effort to scrub the more persistent ink stains from his hands.

Sensing his disappointment—or at least his scrutiny—Kpp’Ar gave him a brief glance up and down. “You didn’t have to change clothes,” he commented.

Viren's jaw dropped. “You told me to!”

“I am certain I did not.”

“You asked whether I was wearing my ordinary clothes to the castle, where you apparently have an audience with the king, himself—was that somehow not an implicit order to change?”

Kpp’Ar blinked several times, as if trying to wrap his mind around a completely alien concept. “I thought it was an odd choice for you, since you otherwise take such care with your appearance in public.”

Viren bristled, but fell silent rather than argue further. It had seemed so obvious, but now doubt needled at the edges of his mind. He wasn't ashamed of where he came from, but he didn't like to stand out and be marked as someone ignorant of the social context—that was when people began to treat him dismissively, or worse, with pity. Kpp'Ar obviously didn't care about such things, but he had also never needed to care. Still, the fact that he hadn't cleaned up more suggested that Viren might have overcompensated, and would be ostentatious—

“You look very fine,” Kpp’Ar added, awkward as always in his reassurance. “You needn’t worry that you’ll be out of place.”

“Thanks,” Viren mumbled, not feeling particularly better.

#the dragon prince #kradogsfic #viren #kpp'ar #yes this is the 'viren and harrow first meeting' fic #in which harrow winds up inadvertently picking on every insecurity viren has and viren goes absolutely FERAL on him #interestingly i have to rewrite a lot less of him in NCNE because the conceit was he masks significantly less with viren than anyone else