#but at its core. I mean. it resonates with people for a reason

[llycaons]

but that's why it's such a compelling story, right? that why I still love reading about what happens after. such a brilliant and spirited and funny and life-loving character was driven to literal suicide at a very young age by the events that happened in his life, and we get to see him come back to a new life, older and changed but still himself, and still capable of appreciating life and experiencing joy. and against all odds, he does! I and many others have speculated on the fact that wwx really should be more traumatized in canon that he appears, that it'll take years or decades of healing with support and security before he can be considered 'recovered', if ever

but the thing is...he gets that. he has a home with someone he loves, who deeply cherishes him and who knows him. he has decades of life to live - longer if you go by novel canon and have him develop mxy's core. he has a little family of people who respect and value him, with ties to his lost siblings and friends. he has the security of extremely powerful cultivators and a massive sect. he's no longer wanted by the cultivation world, and he makes his peace with loved ones both living and dead. and canonically he takes those opportunities and he thrives. the narrative - in the novel, donghua, and drama - wants you to know that he has a happy ending. that's canon! that despite everything he's gone through and lost, he ends the story happy

#I was going to say he ends the story smiling but that has a LOT of baggage associated with it #umm im crying now a little. you know how it is with wei wuxian #his happiness is so important to me even tho he's not real and he got that!! he got what he needed and he made a good life!! #and that's more precious to me than I know what to do with #it can be the worst possible #the absolute worst thing that ever happens can happen. and you can still live and recover #and things won't be the same but you can be happy #of course there's critiques to make about realism about how romantic love doesn't fix everything about how disability doesn't disappear #but at its core. I mean. it resonates with people for a reason #sidenote this particular thesis is why feast and famine is probably one of the most faithful fics ever written #despite the insanely ooc dirty talk #cql txp #suicide tw

[cheriecelestial]

Angel Pt.II

pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader

disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. suggestive content. swearing. 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ™️. not proofread !

a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here’s part 2. I’m aware of the poll results, but I had already planned to go against the consensus beforehand (cuz ain’t nobody tells me what to do). So smut in pt.III I promise. pls don’t be mad. Comment, Reblog and Like（╹◡╹）♡

╰ ┈➤ Part I

One of Jason's most cherished aspects of his Red Hood helmet was its ability to allow him to doze off undetected. He was curious how Y/N would react if he fell asleep at her place. He knew many people often tried, and foolishly so, to take off his helmet when he was asleep to try to find his identity. Despite his affection for her, he felt the need to ensure her trustworthiness because he knew he wouldn't be able to bear if she betrayed him. If she were to betray him, he reasoned, it would be better sooner rather than later. Feigning sleep, he waited. For a while she just sat and watched him. And not in a vigilant or cautious way, atleast it didn't that way to him. He hoped she would remain that way, but fate seemed to have other plans for him. He heard her retreat to her room, the smallness of her apartment allowing him to observe almost every movement. Maybe I'll buy her a nicer place, he thought to himself.

As she approached him, she checked once more, hiding something behind her back. She wouldn't try to take off his helmet, would she? A profound sense of dread and apprehension gripped him. She was the last person he wanted to betray him. Soon he found himself questioning his own judgment and the authenticity of the relationship. What did you expect? A sinister voice taunted him.

He felt his brain cloud with a whirlwind of emotions such as shock, disbelief, sadness, hurt, and confusion. When her fingertips grazed his helmet, it felt like a deep, agonizing wound piercing to his core. Initially, there was disbelief—a refusal to acknowledge that someone he loved and trusted could do that. He could feel the pit rage resurface, fierce and consuming, directed at her and perhaps even at himself for allowing himself to be vulnerable enough to be wounded in such a way.

He anticipated her lifting his helmet, only she didn't. She withdrew her hands and let out a tiny giggle. He was struck with the realisation that she didn't try to take his helmet off, rather she placed something atop it. It was out of his field of view so he couldn't quite tell what it was. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her take out her phone and snap a picture. Unfortunately for her, she forgot to switch off the flash. Jason took the opportunity and in the blink of an eye, her grabbed her wrist and flipped her over his shoulder, slamming into the couch. He pushed his forearm against her throat with his other hand pinning her under him.

“What do you think you're doing angel ?” He growled as his thumb trailed from her bottom lip to her cheek in a gesture that was equal parts sultry and sinister. Her eyes widened like saucers as cold sweat started to form on the side of her forehead. Her body might froze momentarily before trembling with fear. He didn't realise just how small she felt against him until he was on top of her. Akin to a quivering rabbit ensnared in a hunter's trap. Truth be told, the analogy wasn't far off.

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. I swear it was a prank —" She tugged at her restraints with tears forming at the corner of her eyes, her breathing becoming shallower and rapid but Jason didn't budge. She felt all too aware of the situation she was in. His proximity so close that she could feel so exposed under his gaze. It was intimidating yet so intoxicating, the feeling of being enclosed by him, the scent that was so intense and virile was enough to make her head spin. She could hear her heartbeat resonating in her ears and it was clear that he could too. Needless to say, Y/N L/N messed up big time.

"What was ? Hmm?" He leaned in closer to her face until his helmet was mere centimeters away, relishing in the sadistic pleasure of watching her teary eyes as she whimpered and muttered incomprehensible apologies. Seeing her struggle to form words, he picked up her phone to view the picture she had taken. It was him with what seemed like — a fuzzy bear ears headband? He plucked it from his helmet, staring at it incredulously. You have got to be kidding me.

"You're so fucking adorable, you know that ?" He let out an airy chuckle that was felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh. "You're not mad at me ?"Y/N's voice sounded so desperate like a broken whimper. Her pretty eyes still wide and a little teary and red at the ends, a visible look of confusion etched onto it.

He wanted to stroke her cheek again, but he feared he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. "I don't know. Should I be?" He chuckled, and while he was mostly teasing, he couldn't help but marvel at her.

Despite his experiences with many women, he had never encountered someone so captivating. Just by the virtue of being pinned under him, she looked just so impossibly inviting. Jason found himself rendered breathless as his mind wandered into the realm of the most salacious thoughts.

"But this warrants punishment. Does it not?" He watched her breath catching in her throat, her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushing with heat.

Y/N swallowed hard," Punishment ?" She nervously peered at the man, a a slight shiver running down her spine as she could almost feel his piercing cold gaze from behind the red helmet. She understood her predicament and knew she shouldn't be enjoying it. It could take an unfavourable turn at any given moment and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Suddenly, he released her hands and leaned back. Despite feeling a little disoriented from his sudden absence of his towering self, Y/N sat back up. Jason held up the headband in his hand,"Do you have more of these?"

"A few. Yes" she replied.

"Go get them." he said nonchalantly. Y/N blinked at his request, feeling a hint of disappointment creeping in. As she rose slowly and made her way to the dresser, she scolded herself internally, Jesus get your brain out of the gutter Y/N. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she gathered all the headbands she had and dropped them onto the couch. "You have quite the collection," Jason chuckled, examining a headband. "Mostly from previous Halloweens and costume cafés I used to work at." Y/N explained. Jason's gaze settled on a particularly intriguing headband - white floppy bunny ears with pink bows. He tossed it onto her lap, grinning,“Put this on.”

Y/N complied without question and looked at him expectantly. Jason whipped out his phone and aimed it at her,“ Strike me a cute pose angel." Her eyes widened in a mix of surprise embarrassment," Wait what ?”

"Well you clicked that picture of me so it's pretty fair trade if you ask me." He reasoned, attempting to maintain a neutral tone, though secretly relishing the moment thoroughly. He maintained composure, not wanting to risk scaring her away. He eagerly snapped photos as Y/N reluctantly donned the headband and flashed a small peace sign, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his own heart racing in his chest and his face growing warm.

"Please don't show it to anyone. It's embarrassing," She pleaded. Jason acknowledged her request with an absentminded nod, slipping his phone into his pocket. He hadn't quite reached the stage of covertly taking pictures and plastering them on his walls like a stalker, but he reasoned that photos she consented to were fair game. Plus that was more Tim's thing, Jason liked shooting his shot up front or atleast that’s what he told himself. He casually grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on his lap so she wouldn't have to see his raging boner.

"Now how about we fire up the console. Video games you said?" Jason suggested holding the dvd in his hand that Y/N had completely forgotten about. She eagerly grabbed the controllers and settled onto the couch, anticipation sparking in her eyes as the previous tension eased. Jason stared at the game dvd and couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. "Do you play video games often ?" Y/N asked him with a smile. "Only when I'm with the boys at the batcave or with Ro – ahem I meant Arsenal. Starfire is temporarily banned because she's burnt too many controllers out of excitement." She laughed at his words, almost imagining the scene.

"Well I'm sure you dominate in physical fights. Let's see how you hold out in a virtual one. I hope you're ready." Y/N challenged, a competitive gleam in her eyes.

"Bring it on angel." Jason replied, his fingers already poised over the buttons. Before they knew, they were completely immersed in the game, their laughter and exchanging banter and competitive jabs filling the room. Whether they were working together to overcome a tough level or engaging in heated competition, their bond only grew stronger with each passing minute.

"Oh come on ! You've won like the fourth time in a row. This thing has to be rigged !" Jason accusingly jabbed his controller at the screen in frustration, eliciting laughter from Y/N at how worked up he got over something insignificant like a video game.

"'ll let you in on a little secret. I'm a bit of a pro. Back in college, gaming was like my side hustle," she whispered with a mischievous grin, leaning in closer. Jason's interest piqued at her revelation. He couldn't deny his curiosity about how she had been these past few years. Despite his thorough investigations, he knew that no amount of research could uncover the personal intricacies of her college life - the moments of joy that lit up her face, the frustrations that weighed heavy on her shoulders, the solitary hours spent, the struggles she endured, and the victories she celebrated. It was a side of her story that remained untold, a mystery he was eager to unravel.

"In college, I used to dress up real cute and go to frat parties and challenge guys to play with me and if they lost they'd have to pay me." Y/N continued. It sounded like a perfect plan on paper. Deceptive disguise, psychologically analysing targets and exploiting their weaknesses against them, strategic thinking and meticulosity. But her explanation wasn't enough to satiate his curiosity. "And what if they won?" The most important part of any good plan was enticing bait. A part of him knew the answer but still wanted confirmation. "Something no college frat boy would reject. I said I'd blow their dick." Y/N grinned causing Jason to visibly freeze in disbelief. "I know how it sounds, but don’t worry l've never lost. Ever," she assured him quickly. After a pause, Jason's voice wavered at the start of the sentence as he spoke up, "How much did they have to pay you if you won?" Y/ N furrowed her eyebrows slightly, trying to recall the details from the past events. Amidst the long hours of studying in med school and her meager earnings from a part-time job, she had resorted to more crafty ways of earning money and gaming happened to be the most lucrative option to make more in less time.

"Well, most college students couldn't afford to pay much, so it was ten dollars per game," she explained. Jason nodded, retrieving his wallet. "You beat me four times, right ?" With determination, he placed four hundred-dollar bills on the coffee table before her, his next words filled with unwavering resolve,"Play your game with me angel.” Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of the money on the table, and she took in a deep breath, contemplating his offer for a moment. What could she possibly have to lose?

“It's okay Red. You tried.” After two more rounds of competition, Jason suffered a devastating loss before finally realizing why he felt a sense of déjà vu— it was the same video game he, Duke, Dick, and Tim had played a couple of months ago. He vividly remembered losing his temper, nearly throwing hands when Tim used underhanded tactics against him and Dick violated every rule of sportsmanship and sacrificing every last modicum of decency over the game and Damian scoffing at their "immaturity" like he always did while Duke tried his best to pacify the conflict. The reason he didn't recognise this before was because him and Y/N were playing in a different mode than this. "How about we switch up the mode?"

"Sure let's do it."Y/N grinned confidently. The two sat side by side, eyes fixed on the glowing neon screens in front of them. Their fingers danced across the controllers, every move was calculated, every strategy meticulously planned as they vied for dominance. The room was filled with the sound of intense concentration and occasional bursts of laughter or frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, as neither of them were willing to concede an inch in this high-stakes competition. With every round, the stakes rose, and the intensity only grows as they pushed each other to their limits in pursuit of victory.

"You have got to be kidding me." Y/N breathed out as the letters "GAME OVER" As the defeat screen flashed before her eyes, she recoiled in shock, her mouth agape in disbelief. Her eyes widened in astonishment, unable to comprehend how her skill that she believed to be unparalleled had fallen short. Her hands, which had been gripping the controller tightly, now hung limply by her sides, fingers trembling with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Jason's heart raced with exhilaration, his body shaking with the rush of victory. With a triumphant shout, he leaped from his seat, pumping his fists in the air as a grin stretched across his face. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT !! LET'S FUCKING GO !!!”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she comprehended the implication of her loss. Her cheeks flushed with a faint blush of embarrassment and she averted her gaze while fidgeting nervously in her seat. Her tongue ran over her lips as she avoided meeting Jason's eyes. He noticed this and remembered what the winning condition was. He straightened up and cleared his throat, regaining his composure," You know it was just a silly game, you don't have to do that. I won't force you into doing anything you're not comfortable with." Y/N managed a small relieved smile," Thank you. But you know a bet is a bet. So how about a kiss instead ? Wait you’re over 18, right ?"

"A kiss ? Oh cool. Yeah we could do that and to answer your question I’m legal. I’d show you my ID but that kinda defeats the whole purpose of the secret identity thing." Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite how he composed on the outside, he could almost hear his 10 year old self rejoicing at the prospect of finally being able to kiss his first love. Ever since the warehouse incident, he had buried that naive part of himself, believing it to be dead along with other redeeming qualities, at least according to those around him.

He knew he wandered down dark paths, driven by desires of revenge, bitterness and reckless impulses. But when he looked into her eyes, deep within him, he felt that there was a flicker of hope, a belief that redemption is possible. He knew he wasn't deserving of someone so sweet and pure, but perhaps just this once, he would allow himself this one indulgence.

"So should I like bring out the scarf ?" Y/N asked. Her heart, which was felt unstable and claustrophobically confined inside of her, hammering against her ribcage as if it sought to burst out and soar away. "Don't bother." Jason interjected, producing a small black box from his jacket pocket. "I've been meaning to give you this, but never found the right moment." Y/N opened the box and found a silk blindfold which was black on one side and red on the other, the same shade of red as his helmet. As her fingertips glided over its surface, it felt like touching liquid satin. There's a distinct sensation of coolness and silkiness that enveloped her. It was like touching a cloud or being embraced by a gentle breeze. “What's this for ? Don't trust my scarf enough ?” Y/N joked. Jason shrugged his shoulders and answered casually,“Well yes and no. Your scarf is made of scratchy fabric and you have sensitive skin so I thought —”

“How do you know I have sensitive skin ?” She couldn’t recall sharing that detail, finding it peculiar that he knew. Jason bit his tongue, regretting his slip-up. It was one of those things he remembered about her from years ago. When they were younger, she would often complaint how her work uniform was really scratchy and how she hated it against her sensitive skin and he would always say that when he grew up he would buy her the nicest and softest of clothes. But of course given their current circumstance, he couldn’t tell her that.

Jason pointed to the bottle of lotion sitting on the dinner table. “That. It says for dry and sensitive skin.” Y/N turned in the direction he pointed her astonishment rendering her momentarily speechless, her mouth agape, unable to comprehend how he pieced together such intricate details. Her eyes widened with admiration, reflecting a mixture of awe and reverence for his uncanny ability to observe so keenly, she commented,“ You know everything about you is such a suspension of disbelief kinda thing. Like I’m sure you could tell me the craziest things and I’d go ‘yeah sure that makes sense’. ”Jason chuckled awkwardly, relieved that he had quickly found an explanation for his slip-up and diverted her suspicion,“Well you know being around batman, the detective shit rubs off.”

Y/N raised the blindfold to her eye level and with deliberate movements, she tied it securely around her head, feeling the darkness engulfing her vision. The fabric is incredibly fine, almost weightless against her skin. The smoothness of silk glides effortlessly against the skin, created a feeling of luxury and indulgence effectively making the moment much more sensuous than it was supposed be. With the blindfold tied securely around her eyes, a hush fell over her surroundings, amplifying the sound of her own heartbeat.

A sense of anticipation filled her, as if the world had suddenly become a mystery waiting to be explored solely through touch, sound, and intuition. She couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her veins, feeling herself surrendering to the unknown, willingly relinquishing the sense of sight for a deeper, more visceral experience. As darkness enveloped her, her other senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of changes in the environment. Y/N let out a soft gasp when she heard his helmet being set down on the table with a quiet thud.

“You know we don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you want to back out. I —” Jason began tentatively, carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. She reassured him calmly, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He slowly cupped her face and leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Jason’s lips brushed against hers, uncertain and almost fearful. “Y/N I—” he stilled against her, waiting for her reaction. He knew this was one bridge that once burnt would either leave him at the edge of the abyss or paradise and needless to say, he couldn’t blow this. “Just shut up and kiss me Red. You earned it.”

“Yes ma’am,”Jason let out a breath of disbelief. The world around him seemed to melt away and all that existed was her and the euphoric feeling of her warm and pliant mouth on his. The beast inside him thrashed against the iron bars of his cage of self control, its roars echoing within him — wanting nothing but to sink his teeth into Y/N’s supple and inviting flesh and ravage her. His fingers cupping her face twitched with the need to touch more of her. Before he knew, his hands slid up of its own accord and tangled themselves in the soft locks of her hair.

Jason spent a lifetime honing his self control. Batman had drilled its importance into his system but as of now could feel every last ounce of self control he possessed slip through his fingers like sand. But he forced himself to focus. A part of him felt guilty for feeling the way he felt about her, his need for her — it was desperate, perverse, wrong even because Jason knew that if she realised that who he was she might never look at him the same way again but he couldn’t get himself to let go of something so damnably intoxicating. Y/N was the first one to pull away, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as if trying to catch up with her sprinting heart. She could feel him grin against her lips.

“Good game Red.”

“Does anyone else feel like she's finally lost it, or is it just me ?”

"I can hear you, Stephanie," Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. In retaliation, the blonde high schooler blew a raspberry at her co-worker, causing Y/N to shake her head in resignation. "That's why I said it. Babs back me up," Stephanie retorted.

“Please. We have enough crazies in Gotham as it is, there’s no need for any more.” Barbara Gordon was another one of Y/N best friends along with Cass Cain and was the daughter of the GCPD commissioner and the girlfriend of Dick Grayson. She was a couple years older than Y/N and most of all, the mom friend and pacifist of the group.

"But you know you have been acting strange. You've been touching your lips every five minutes and zoning out like right now —" Cass trailed off, sipping coffee from cup. Not realizing that she was doing that right now, Y/N jerked her hand off as if caught while stealing. The second the words left Cass's mouth, a realization dawned on the trio simultaneously, as if a light bulb had illuminated above their heads.

"What ?" Y/N muttered feeling oddly cornered. Trying her hardest to ignore the elephant in the room, she went back to working. The three friends exchanged glances, silently debating who would broach the subject with Y/N. Eventually, Barbara rolled her eyes and took charge, as neither of the younger girls seemed willing. "Y/N, I'd like to order," Barbara declared, wheeling her wheelchair closer to the counter. Y/N shifted her attention to her, nodding as she grabbed a pen and notepad, ready to take Barbara's order with practiced efficiency.

"I'd like to order tea," Barbara stated.

"Sure. So, would that be Earl Grey?" Y/N asked with a knowing smile.

"Nope."

"Assamese?"

"Not that either."

"Darjeeling ? Jasmine ? Matcha ?" Y/N proposed, offering a variety of tea options in an attempt to pinpoint Barbara's preference, her brows furrowing in confusion as to why she wasn't ordering her usual. “Then ?” She tilted her head in questioning but Barbara just smiled back and winked playfully,“You know, tea, piping hot if you know what I mean.”

“Uggh fine you win. So there's this guy,” The h/c haired woman started slowly and the three women groaned in unison. This was a common yet much disliked drill. The atmosphere shifted and a heavy silence settles over the group. Cass's eyes widened, a look worry flashing across her face. She exchanged a quick glance with Steph, who mirrored her expression. Barbara, ever the voice of reason, remained composed but her concern was evident in the slight furrow of her brow,“ We’ve talked about this.”

Y/N, the one who had made the revelation, shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of her companions. She could feel the weight of their judgment bearing down on her, and it made her regret ever bringing up the topic. “Okay just hear me out —”

There was a moment of hesitation, as if each of them was struggling with how to respond to this. Finally, it was Steph who broke the silence, her voice edged with frustration.

“No there will be no ‘hear me out’s. Look Y/N Imma be honest with you. You’re legit nicer than 99.99% gothamites and in all honesty the only thing I hate about you is your fucking taste in men. Every seven months you come with hear me out on men who are leather wearing alcoholics and are always gaslighting, lying, cheating, abusive bastards or just straight up criminals !” She whispered in a tone passionately incredulous, drawing attention from other cafe patrons. Cass remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes. It was clear that she shared Steph's apprehension about their friend's poor taste in men.

Barbara chose her words carefully. “She’s right, you do have a bit of a problem. We just don’t want you getting hurt over guys like that or worse them hurting you and I don’t mean just emotionally.” she spoke gently, her tone laced with genuine concern.

“It’s not even that bad —” Y/N started. “Well you did date a two bit drug dealer.” Cass muttered quietly. “How was I supposed to know that ? It’s not like he offered me to do cocaine on the first date plus Orphan did save me in the nick of time so no harm done.” Y/N huffed in defense.

“Why don’t you try dating someone who’s actually nice for a change?”

“Sure, like who?” Y/N chuckled sarcastically.

“Maybe someone who’s like Dick?” Steph suggested. Dick Grayson was the epitome of the popular charismatic jock kid at school. It wasn’t hard to understand why he was so liked — with his sanguine personality, witty puns, kind hearted and generous personality he was pretty much the shining paragon of an upstanding citizen and your boy next door. Unfortunately, such traits rarely aligned with Y/N tastes. “I mean he’s very attractive of course but he’s just not my type you know. He’s too —”

“Nice ?” Barbara guessed.

“Yeah, that. But if he has a brother then well—” Y/N trailed off, half-jokingly.

“No!” The three exclaimed in unison, catching her off guard. Their eyes widened as if she said something really offensive.

“Whoa what was that about ?” Y/N asked. The three exchanged glances, and Barbara cleared her throat before speaking up. “Well, Dick does have brothers. Two of them are minors, so that’s an immediate no, and the third one— he’s not a bad guy per se. He would never hurt a woman, especially someone as sweet as you, but—”

“But?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and shook her head, urging her friend to continue.

“He’s got issues. Like a boatload of them,” she finished, carefully articulating each word.

“What sort of issue ? Daddy issues ? Mommy Issues ? Parental Issues ? Parental Issues - Orphan Edition ? Step parent issues ? I’ve dealt with them all before you know.”

“More like all, in that order.” Cass muttered.

“Wow this guy sounds like a party. You should introduce me to him sometime. Him and I would definitely hit it off.” Y/N joked.

“Please don’t come up with any more of those ‘I can fix him’s. You’re a barista not Handy Manny.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to brush off their concerns. “You know what I usually mean by I can fix him is that I can made him tolerable till I get bored of him and dump him. Sure, I’ve made mistakes but this one is different,”she insisted.

“Different how ?” Barbara raised her brow skeptically.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she regaled her friends about the events of the video game bet, conveniently leaving out the details of Red being a vigilante and that prank incident — they didn’t need to know that. Her friends leaned in, somewhat captivated by her animated storytelling. Gasps of disbelief and amazement erupted from her friends. Their curiosity evident as they leaned in, eager to soak in every detail of the story.

The tension in the air had eased as the group exchanged glances, each grappling with their own thoughts and feelings about the situation. It was clear that this revelation had thrown them all for a loop, leaving them unsure of how to proceed. But one thing was certain – they would stand by their friend, even if they didn't particularly agree with her choices.

“You know only I was of legal age, I’d wife you up so fast it’d set world records. That ways we wouldn’t have to deal with this.” Steph lamented, earning a smack from Y/N. Despite her sassy quips and teasing, Stephanie Brown was never shy to be vocal about her affections for her favourite barista. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not into kids. Also aren’t you dating Tim ?” Y/N asked.

“Well yeah. But he’s not like my boyfriend boyfriend. He’s like my pet ferret than my boyfriend.”

“I was so sure I got promoted to pet guinea pig last Monday.” A voice piped up from Y/N’s side. She let out a small scream, her body tensing up in pure terror. Her heart raced as she spun around, eyes wide with fear, her hands poised to defend herself, only to find Tim Drake with an expression of mock offence on his face and Dick next to him with his head propped on top of his fist, listening intently with a smile on his face.

“How long have you been standing here ?” She exclaimed, putting her hand on her hip, her voice a mixture of surprise and reproach. Dick’s mischievous grin faltered slightly as she held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Oh don’t mind me," he said, trying to suppress a giggle. "I’m just here for the girl talk."

“Dick I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. You aren’t allowed when we’re having the girl talk.” Y/N jabbed her finger in warning at him, her tone tainted with a hint of genuine irritation.

“What ? Why ? Ever since I first watched Mean Girls I’ve always dreamed of being a part of a girl clique. You can’t do this to me.” Wearing a mock expression of sadness and offence, he pouted like a five year old child, crossing his arms.

“Well you can’t sit with us detective.”

“Why not ?”

“Well because this is a girl clique. Duh.” Steph sassed back. Dick raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief,“Discrimination, plain and simple. I demand equal rights for guy friends in girl cliques !”

Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Nice try but no. You're always welcome for skin care and movie nights. But girl talk is strictly off-limits. And no don’t look at Babs, she can’t and won’t help you."

Dick’s shoulders slumped dramatically, admitting defeat. "I guess it's just one of life's cruel ironies. But hey, I can still be an honorary member, right ?" He gave her a hopeful grin, knowing fully well that his charm wouldn't be enough to sway her strict rules.

“Just give up man. Winning isn’t in the cards for you. Now, scram. Y/N should please continue.” Tim shooed Dick as if he were a stray dog. “Tim you too.” Cass deadpanned.

“Why ? I’m not like him ! Pretty sure you girls can make exceptions for bi guinea pigs.” He retorted.

“Ferret,” Steph corrected,“ You ate my turkey sandwich last Tuesday so you got demoted to ferret.”

“Only if you’re ready to forfeit your right to a free coffee refills after five paid cups a day.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. Tim’s expression twisted into sheer horror, as if she had threatened his very existence. Given his caffeine addiction, it might as well have been a threat on his life.

Tim cleared his throat and began with a disapproving look, "Ahem. Richard, isn't it utterly disgraceful for esteemed gentlemen like us to eavesdrop on ladies like that? Shame on you. What would Alfred and Bruce say ?"

“Who are Alfred and Bruce?” Y/N inquired. Tim immediately regretted his words, closing his eyes briefly. “Oh, just seniors at work,” Dick hastily replied with an awkward laugh. “You two should probably head out,” Barbara interjected with a pointed look. Tim and Dick hurriedly departed without any sign of resistance. As Y/N turned, she noticed Cass had vanished, and Steph had returned to her tasks, leaving her to process the recent events alone. Huh. Weird.

As Y/N’s weary hand reached for the brass doorknob of her house, she felt the exhaustion of the day to loosen its grip on her, replaced by a sense of relief. The metal of the doorknob offered a stark contrast between its own cold surface and the warmth of home she longed for beyond the threshold. With a familiar click, the door swung open and she hung her bag and scarf on the hat stand. The second she stepped through the threshold, a pleasant aroma of spices and the sound of someone humming to a song floated through the air. The scent was homely and comforting. Wait. I live alone then who’s cooking in the kitchen ? Puzzled and scared, she dropped her keys on the table and cautiously made her way towards the kitchen. With every step, the sound of sizzling and the clinking of utensils grew louder. Tiptoeing to the edge of the kitchen wall, she peered around the corner.

“Red ?” Her eyes widened as she stared at the most unlikely scene she could’ve ever imagined in her life. The vigilante Red Hood — Prince of Gotham, Scourge of the Underworld, the Wraith of Gotham, the Renegade Knight — stood in Y/N’s normal sized apron that looked comically small on him, stirring pasta sauce while listening to Taylor Swift. She stood frozen, unable to process the sheer absurdity of the scene in front of her.

“You’re back !” She could almost see him grinning from behind his signature mask. She blinked several times, thinking all of this was some sort of wishful thinking induced daydream. But the smell of simmering marinara and the faint sound of Taylor Swift's voice confirmed otherwise, effectively shattering any semblance of normalcy in the room leaving her to wonder how could this larger-than-life figure, feared by criminals and revered by the city, be standing in her humble kitchen cooking pasta ?

Yet, there he was, a paradoxical blend of hero and something so curiously domestic. As she watched him, a mix of amusement and curiosity washed over her. “What’s going on here ?” Y/N asked, gesturing to the kitchen in general. “Oh this ? Um it sort of happened,” Jason replied casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a vigilante to be whipping up a meal in someone else's kitchen.

“It just happened ?” Y/N repeated dumbfounded. She leaned against the kitchen counter, still trying to process the scene before her. Looking around, she noticed the counter cluttered with groceries she didn’t recall purchasing. Opening the fridge, she saw that her once-empty fridge was stocked with gourmet items she had only seen on upscale cooking shows. “Well I came to see you but you hadn’t returned from work. I got up to get a glass of water from the fridge and saw that there wasn’t anything in it so I —”he began, attempting to explain the situation.

“So you bought me groceries ? And the pasta ? That also just happened ?” she asked, her interest piqued. "Um yeah. It did," he admitted sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It was on a whim don’t think too much of it.” Jason glanced at her, hoping she would find his gesture too strange. His eyes flitted to the clock on the wall before landing back at her,"I figured that it’s already dark outside so it’s not safe to go get stuff. Plus, I make a mean pasta," he quipped, flashing a hint of pride in his voice.

She couldn't argue with that. As she watched him continue to cook, a sense of gratitude washed over her. Despite the reputation he amassed, he was here, in her home, bringing solace that no one had in a very long time. Her world felt harmonious, as if every piece fell into place effortlessly. In that moment, Red Hood wasn't just a feared vigilante—he was a friend, albeit an unusual one, who had somehow found his way into her life and her kitchen and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“By the way,” Jason began, wiping his hands on the apron and shifting his tone to seriousness as he turned towards her, “I wanted to ask you something. Where did you get that?” He gestured towards the felt clipboard hanging on the opposite wall. Y/N followed his gaze, seeing the map of Gotham he had given her along with the necklace the week they met. It had really helped her avoid dangerous parts of the town after dark. But why was he asking about it when he was the one who gave it to her? “What do you mean? You’re the one who gave me the map,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Not the map. The batarang. I don’t recall leaving any of those here,” he clarified. Y/N’s eyes fell on the sleek metal batarang pinning the map to the clipboard. Her mouth rounded in an ‘o’ when she pieced it together. “The batarang ? Red Robin gave it to me.” she exclaimed. Her words clearly struck a nerve because Jason felt completely silent following her words. “It’s a funny story actually. You know I work at a café. This one night I was closing up and Red Robin came in asking for a coffee refill. I had almost closed up the shop but the poor thing looked like he had been through hell so I refilled his coffee. He tried to pay but he couldn’t find his wallet so he paid with a batarang.” She quickly added, hoping to diffuse any building tension.

Jason wordlessly walked to the clipboard and effortlessly retrieving the batarang before swapping it with his own from his pocket. “Better.” He muttered with satisfaction, addressing no one in particular. “Hey give that back !” Y/N tried to take it from his hand but he held it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. “What do you even need it for ?” He asked sounding somewhat annoyed. “It was an experience souvenir, you can’t take that !” She tried to reason despite knowing there was no point. “Well I’m sure Red Hood cooking dinner was you is beats refilling coffee for some drenched beaten up rat any day.”

Y/N’s eyes fell on the Red Hood’s batarang that was now pining the Map of Gotham to the clipboard instead of Red Robin’s batarang. It was similar in shape and size, resembling a bat's silhouette with pointed wings extending from a central handle. Except his batarang sported his signature red hue with black-rimmed edges. On closer inspection, Y/N noticed it had the words “Property Of Red Hood” scrawled on it in near illegible handwriting with a permanent marker.

“It’s already in your colours. What’s the point of writing your name on it ?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Because there are little shits that like to take my stuff without asking. So it’s a reminder that if they do, I will find them and after than no one else ever will.” He replied vaguely.

“Thugs ?”

“Worse. Siblings.”

“That sounds… tough,” Y/N remarked. She could only imagine what it would be like dealing with having vigilante siblings and the unique dynamics they have with each other. “You have no idea,” Jason replied in a wry tone. “But y’know ohana and all. Can’t get rid of them even if I wanted to.”

“Then what do you hold against the poor kid ?”

“Look it’s not that. Everyone thinks I hate him but I don’t,” Jason countered, pausing before continuing, “Okay maybe a teeny tiny bit but that’s beside the point. It’s just… it’s just I just hate him with you —”Jason caught himself before ending up saying anything that would just come to bite him in the ass. Y/N’s eyes widened a fraction in realization before smiling. “Are you jealous ?”

“What ? No !” He swiftly shook his head, dismissing the suggestion despite the faint blush creeping up his neck,“ I’m not jealous. He’s just trouble and I don’t want him being near my —”He attempted to maintain his composure, but his defensive tone betrayed a hint of insecurity. Y/N titled her head, studying his body language carefully and asked,“Your what ?”

“My – my person.” Jason finished softly, his gaze dropping to the floor, uncertain about his choice of words. His heart racing as he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings not wanting giving too much away nor did he want to invite misunderstandings by using the term ‘friend.’

Y/N let out a small chuckle,“ What ? So just because I work for you means I can’t interact with any of your sibling ?”

Jason raised his head in alarm,“ That’s not what I meant !” He clarified hurriedly. Oh ?

“Then what did you mean ? Hmm ?” Y/N inched closer to him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. It had been exactly five days since he had kissed her, kissed her with insatiable hunger as if he intended to swallow her whole. Glancing down, she noticed his hand clenched around the material of his pants so tightly she feared he might tear a hole into them. Slowly, she trailed her hand up his arm, offering her sweetest smile. She felt his muscles tense under her touch, as though he was fighting - resisting. Y/N knew that teasing him might as well be biting off more than she could chew but Y/N 'life is all about taking risks and new experiences' L/N was willing to bet on her luck.

“The pasta is getting cold. You should —,”Jason's throat tightened as Y/N’s hand reached his shoulder, he couldn’t help but shiver slightly — his resolve wavering under her touch. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, but her closeness was making it increasingly difficult to think straight. He watched as she looked right at him and then lowered her gaze to the part of his mask where his lips would be for a split second and then flit back to his eyes with a teasing mirth dancing in her eyes. Fuck. This woman is driving me crazy.

“— e-eat it before it gets cold,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. As a part of training, Bruce had taught all the Robins the psychology of seduction so that they could identify it and evade it and as of now, every fibre of his being screamed warnings. Her actions were daring, albeit innocent. But they weren't even half as blatant or polished as the seasoned honeytrappers and seductresses he had encountered, but they still stirred something so primal deep within him, tempting him to abandon caution. The part of his arm her fingertips grazed felt like it was on fire. No scratch that he had experienced what it was to have his skin on fire. This was exponentially worse.

Ever since Y/N re-entered his life, Jason Peter Todd was experiencing what one would call selective erectile dysfunction. Consumed by thoughts of Y/N, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. So a few weeks back, he sought to blow off some steam and divert his mind from the thoughts of Y/N overwhelming his system. Jason considered himself fairly easy to satisfy since all his encounters had been transactional, outlets for physical release and nothing more.

However much to his bafflement, his dick refused to react to anything for the past few days and embarrassingly so. There were plenty of flavours to choose from at the iceberg lounge but instead Jason jr. decided to give on the silent treatment instead. It was being a dick, literally. After the whole Lazarus pit shebang, whatever toxic shit he got tossed into as a part of some supervillain’s dastardly schemes, prescription meds he got talked into taking for quote unquote “mental health” — He was no stranger to bodily side effects but this was completely different.

This whole thing reached its height when Jason jr. refused to entertain the advances of a perfectly attractive busty blonde despite the fact that it was dying from sexual frustration and Jason was so ready to get over it. Under normal circumstances, it would be up and ready for action however it decided to stay completely and utterly indifferent — bored even. Effectively forcing Jason into non-consensual celibacy.

The only time it did react in his time at the iceberg lounge was when a model who had conspicuously similar hair colour and face shape to Y/N approached him with flirtation in her eyes. Jason jr. almost got hard, key word almost, when it made the important distinction that she was not Y/N and absolutely didn’t want her lips wandering anywhere his frustrating self. And by selective, he meant that Jason jr. developed a will of his own and turned into one of those overly enthusiastic parents cheering for their kids at school plays, not that Jason had experienced it personally, but that’s besides the point. The point being it would tent up and twitch uncontrollably begging for attention the second he sensed Y/N L/N’s presence in a mile’s distance. At the peak of his condition, Jason couldn’t so much as glance at a surface without his brain conjuring obscene images of how she would look pressed down against it, writhing and moaning his name.

As an avid reader, Jason was something of a hopeless romantic man and he knew that a couple’s first time was an important milestone in their relationship and could most definitely not be done on a whim. He had it all planned out, scented candles, silk sheets and all. It had to be special — touching, sweet, loving and most definitely not some lust-fueled spur of the moment thing his dick was pushing for right now. So there wasn’t much he could do, except sit in abject misery and hope to weather through the storm.

Okay, Jason. You survived being blown up by the joker. This is just another challenge. Focus on something else. Jason motivated himself with his voice of reason sounding suspiciously a lot like Nightwing and took a deep breath.

His eyes wandered till they found their way back to Y/N. She was wearing one of her typical sundresses with pastel floral patterns adorning it with a navy blue cardigan draped around her shoulders and the golden necklace resting on her neck. Her hair was fashioned into a high ponytail with loose strands framing her face.

Based on what he had observed she seemed to have a penchant for sundresses, which Jason believed complemented her overall personality quite well. He often found himself mesmerized by the way the sundresses accentuated Y/N's features, the dress hugging her curves perfectly and the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. She almost looked like she had walked out of a cottage fairy tail. I bet I could shred it like tissue paper. Wait what ? Where did that come from ? Okay let’s try again. He turned his focus back to her. Most of her makeup had worn off from the day’s work, except for the eyeliner and the faintly sparkling light pink lip gloss on her lips, which seemed to have been touched up a few times. I wonder what she would look like on her knees, with her lips wrapped around my cock and that pretty mascara running down her cheeks.

Jason shot a glare at his pants. "Can you please shut up for just two goddamn seconds ? I'm trying to be respectful here," he muttered under his breath, hoping for a moment of peace. At this rate he contemplated the need for an exorcist to exorcise these insistent demons out of his system. He glanced up to find Y/N watching him. "Did you say something?" she asked but he simply shook his head in denial. Though she appeared skeptical, she chose not to press further. Moving to the cabinet, she requested, “Could you please grab the glasses? They’re in the third cabinet on the left,” while she fetched plates for serving and set them on the table. Jason obliged, retrieving the glasses, and as he placed them on the table, his hand inadvertently brushed against hers. Y/N glanced at him and flashed a gentle smile.

He could swear he felt his dick twitch. What are you some sort of pitiful depraved virgin ? Get your shit together. This is downright embarrassing. He scoffed at himself. Amid his current inner turmoil, he had become hyper aware of Y/N’s every micro movement from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to adjusting her ponytail or stooping to retrieve a fallen fork. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her bend down causing hemline of her dress to lift up, revealing a scene that would surely haunt him on his nights alone. No no no dont even- think of the lord Jason. What would Alfred say ?

Our Father who arth in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.

“Mmmh this is so good !” Y/N moaned in delight as she took the first bite, her eyes widen in amazement, savoring the flavour dancing on their taste buds. Jason felt his throat dry up. Oh of course, she just had to make that sound. The universe was really against him today, more so than usual. With two dicks talking to him, he just had to figure out which one to listen to.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our — wait how did that go again ?

Despite Jason's best efforts to maintain composure, Y/N's every movement seemed to unravel his resolve further. As she savored each bite, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way her lips formed around the fork, her eyes alight with pleasure. With each passing moment, his internal struggle intensified, torn between the desire to avert his gaze and this magnetic force of a woman. Her presence seemed to envelop him, every sound she made echoing in his mind, her every gesture etched into his memory. How could he resist the temptation when she was right there, so effortlessly bewitching ?

Y/N placed her hand on his and he pulled away instinctively, the smile on her face faltered but she didn’t say anything. Jason made a mental note to bash his head into a wall hard later for hurting her feelings but as of now he was in no position of making any sort physical contact with her. “Won’t you be eating ?” she asked, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I don’t eat before patrol,” he replied, his response came out colder than he had intended it to be. “It’s best to patrol on an empty stomach because it’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed slightly at his icy response, but she nodded, accepting his explanation. His words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N bit her lip, her gaze flickering between him and the plate of pasta. Feeling a pang of guilt, he tried to ease the atmosphere, though his attempt felt feeble. "But maybe I'll grab something later," he added, a touch of forced warmth in his tone.

“This is really good, you know. You should tell me the recipe sometime,” she suggested. "Nah, I can whip it up for you whenever you want," he replied nonchalantly. Y/N blinked in surprise. "No, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," he insisted, pointing at her necklace. It had been over two months since she started wearing it, and thankfully, she hadn't needed to use its emergency SOS feature. Her thumb traced the disk-shaped pendant of the necklace. “Whatcha smiling about ?” Jason asked. “No nothing,”she replied, shaking her head. Not believing her, Jason tilted his head and urged her to continue. “Fine. So, in this K-drama I watched a while back, the female lead had a powerful mythical creature protecting her like sort of a guardian angel, and she could summon him whenever she lit a match. It just reminded me of that.”

“What creature ?” He asked with intrigue. Jason had always been more inclined to reading rather than watching in nature so he didn’t really have much experience with k-dramas but seeing how interested she was, he was more than willing to give it a go.

“A goblin.”she answered taking another bite of the pasta. “I’m not sure how I ought to take that —” Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation because she knew that goblins in western media were depicted as short ugly green monsters with horrible attitudes. “Oh no no ! Not like the DND ones. Korean ones ! He was really hot,” she clarified frantically. Jason chuckled,“Well then I guess I’ll humbly accept the compliment.”

"Maybe we could watch the show together next time we hang out you know," she suggested shyly, not wanting to appear too upfront with her invitation. A small smile played onto Jason’s lips, every single romance novel he had ever read had prepared him for this moment. He had often wondered what it would feel like to experience such a situation. Sure, they had watched random shows like ‘The real housewives of Beverly Hills’ and ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ before, but this invitation felt different, more deliberate. She specifically asked for this. This wasn’t just ‘got nothing to do so let’s just turn on the tv’ kinda hangout, this was special. Jason's heart skipped a beat as he considered her invitation. The subtle nervousness in her voice only added to the charm of the moment. It was as if the universe had conspired to create this perfect opportunity for them to connect on a deeper level.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he replied, his voice betraying a touch of eagerness despite his attempt to appear casual. Deep down, he knew that this was a significant step in their relationship. “But it’ll have to wait. I’m leaving Gotham,” he added with a sad sigh, remembering the reason he had come to see her in the first place.

“What? Why?” His sudden announcement caught Y/N off guard. Did something bad happen ? “Sorry angel, it’s confidential,” he replied briskly. It was in her best interest to keep her as uninvolved in his world as possible, knowing the risks involved in pursuing a relationship with a civilian.

As they sat in uneasy silence, Jason couldn't shake the weight of his own discomfort. He knew he had been too harsh with his response, but the walls he had built around himself were hard to break down, even with someone as kind-hearted as Y/N. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, he couldn't ignore the concern in her eyes.

Y/N’s mind raced with questions, but she could sense Jason’s reluctance to divulge further. She bit her lip, grappling with a mix of concern and frustration.

“Red did something happen ?” she implored, her voice tinged with worry. “Is it something dangerous? Are you in trouble?”

Jason met her gaze, her expression a mixture of worry and sadness. He hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in her and his commitment to keeping her safe. “It’s just a mission. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much,” he admitted, feeling a sense of regret. “But trust me, it’s better this way. I don’t want you getting mixed up in my business.” Of course it made sense. He didn’t owe her an explanation, knowing there were lines she shouldn’t cross was one of them. This was a world of vigilantes and villains and as a civilian she couldn’t possibly fathom the complexities of his profession.

Y/N reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.“You’ll be back right ?”

“Wouldn’t have given you that necklace if I wasn’t going around for my angel. It might take a couple months, maybe three or four. I don’t know. But I’ll be back.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly and continued,“ And still if you get into trouble, you can still use that necklace. I called in a favour from nightwing and orphan.”

“So what did you ask them to exactly ? They get an alert and they’re to drop everything they’re doing and come save me ?” Y/N asked jokingly.

“Well yeah. You get hurt while I’m gone and they’ll end up as fish food in the Gotham Harbour. Y’know they're like my insurance policy for you," he added. "But hopefully, you won't need to cash it in. Just stay safe and out of trouble until I get back."

Y/N nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll do my best. But you know all that aside, cooking a girl dinner and introducing her to your family, and here I thought we were taking it slow.” Jason paused, caught off guard by her comment. Was that how it appeared ? Her playful expression suggested she was merely teasing him, but what if she was genuinely reciprocating flirtation ?

“You’re a really cruel woman you know angel.”Y/N leaned forward on the table and folded her arms infront of her subconsciously pushing her breasts forward, a coy pout forming on her lips ,“Why do you say that ?” She was fully aware of her effect on him, wasn’t she ?

Jason chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and admiration,“No need to worry your pretty head with that.” With a quick flick of his finger, he lightly tapped her forehead, a playful retaliation for her teasing. She let out a surprised yelp, rubbing her forehead in mock indignation.

“I should get going before Starfire and Arsenal lose their shit thinking I’ve gone MIA. Again.” He said, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket. Y/N too got up and kept the dishes in the sink. Jason turned to leave from the fire exit but he felt Y/N hold his jacket. “Be careful out there Red.” She smiled softly at him and Jason could feel his heart melt into a puddle. “Can’t promise but I will try.” His words came out with softness he didn’t know he possessed, he squeezed her hand gently before reluctantly letting go. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the fire exit.

Outside, Jason took a deep breath, the cool night air soothing his nerves. He glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before slipping into the shadows. As he moved through the darkness, he couldn't help but replay their interaction in his mind. Her soft smile, the way she held onto his jacket, and the genuine concern in her voice lingered in his thoughts.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Jason focused on the task at hand. He moved swiftly through the alleyways, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. The city whispered its secrets to him, a constant reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume it. The weight of his responsibilities as Red Hood pressed upon him, reminding him of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Gotham City.

Yet, in that fleeting moment with Y/N, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't known in a very long time.

A/n: Jason Todd live reaction

Ngl I was in a very silly goofy mood when I wrote this.

Tags : @thisisafish123 @ceramic-raven @millyhelp @blamedbisexual @trunkswithlonghair-blog @jasontoddthings @deans-spinster-witch @12134z03

#batfam #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #yandere jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #dc #dc smut #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #batman #batboys #dc fluff #red hood fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood smut #jason todd smut

[h4lftruths4ndhyperb0le]

Today’s thoughts are about Rebels and the theme of home, and more specifically about Ezra Bridger.

One thing I love about Rebels is how each of the characters has their own reasons for choosing to fight the Empire—Hera grew up in this fight, Zeb is responding to his past inability to protect his people, Sabine is trying to make amends for her past decisions, and Kanan is just trying to survive after Order 66, figuring out what it means to be a Jedi. They’ve all had to, in some way, leave their people behind to pursue this fight, and that’s where we are when we meet them—when Ezra meets them.

And the thing about Ezra is that he doesn’t want the fight. He doesn’t want to join the rebellion, he wants to fix his home. But, when he gets dragged off anyway, he hears about the wookies being taken from their home, and it resonates with him; and because Ezra is, at his core, a good person, he helps them—and then he can’t stop himself from helping, and with his new family by his side, he doesn’t want to.

During the show, each of those characters faces reckonings with their past, not just once, but repeatedly. Not only does Zeb help the Lasats they meet, he is constantly coming encountering Kallus, who puts a face to the loss of his people. Hera has to work with her father, and then Thrawn steals her Kalikori. Sabine has to fight against her people, and then fights for them. And Kanan trains Ezra, immersing himself back into that life he had to run from, in many ways, with Order 66. In episodes one and two, the troops are shocked to see a Jedi, but he and Ezra slowly become well-known—he stops hiding.

In the midst of all of his family reencountering their homes is Ezra, refusing to leave his behind. Ezra never falters in his commitment to Lothal, and to its people. It’s Ezra who saves the governor, it’s his voice that gives the people hope, it’s him who pushes for the rebellion to act. He never gives up on it, never loses sight of his home, and I think that’s a big part of what draws the others back to their own homes.

By the time you reach the final moments of the battle on Lothal, Ezra has made peace with his decisions. He’s resisted the pull of the dark side, overcome the devastation of losing a master, and even denied Palpatine’s temptation for him to be reunited with his parents. In the rebellion, Ezra has grown into something more than he was before, and this time he chooses to rebel, and to do it in the name of Lothal. And he does it by using the force, not to fight, but to flee—except now, he’s not running from something out of fear, but out of determination. This time, Ezra makes the choice to leave his home behind, so that he can make the galaxy a better place for its people.

And his final message to Sabine was that he was counting on her. He didn’t say what for, but he didn’t have to, because she knew. He was counting on her to bring him back to his home, just like he helped bring the rest of them back to theirs.

Ezra Bridger is the heart of Rebels in so many ways, but this is and will probably always be my favorite.

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #rebels sabine #sabine wren #rebels #rebels ezra #sw rebels #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #garazeb orrelios #zeb #home #found family #how are people interpreting ahsoka without this background? #like as an actual question i would love to know the read of someone who doesn’t know the background #because that holo of ezra and a few mentions wouldn’t make me care about him #but #ezra is important #to ahsoka and sabine and hera #ahsoka series #meta #meta ramblings #ramblings

[dragelton]

the ghosts finale was literally the worst finale of any show i have ever seen and i fully mean it

youre gonna take THE gay person found family show, add a fucking baby into the mix, have alison leave the ghosts so she can focus on the baby???

and like yeah. she has to. of course she has to. but like the baby isnt REAL. they wrote that thing in. they had her look at her found family and go sorry guys, this was fun but i need to focus on my real family, me and my DH and our lovely baby girl.

and see like. everyones posting analysis about how its actually even more family that they left because you also have to move out of your home when you grow up and only see your family for holidays yadda yadda and its like. well. yeah thats true. you live with your family until youre older and you love them but you outgrow them, who as much as you might like them are a part of you as your family and not as people you have independently grown to bond with. so you eventually leave them and surround yourself with a friend group or something such. one might even call it. a found family. and the reason why this sucks shit is because it betrays that this whole time the people writing this found family have been thinking “well yeah friendship is awesome but its nothing like REAL family where when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much-”

and then with that perspective you think back to the core of these characters who resonated so much and realize that their tragedies have always been a lack of family. julian was a serial cheater and workaholic who never told his daughter he loved her. pat will never get to see his kids grow up. thomas died before he could marry his beloved. fanny was robbed of a marriage with a man who loves her. kitty never grew up and got the dream wedding she desperately wants to have and her daddy never loved her. and then you get to cap who by all rights should be the exception to this and realize that when they teased him coming out the whole show but at the end subverted it to make it about his lost love it was not a radical portrayal of love between two men it was actually about them having the most cishet perspective on gay identity. it was them looking at a man who spent his entire life repressing his sexuality and going my, what a tragedy, he never got to get married.

of course you can say this has always been what the show is, that its not the shows fault i thought i was watching something else. fair enough. but appearently i’ve been watching something that is just not that good. like im going to be honest maybe it was just kind of bad.

#bbc ghosts #six idiots #bbc ghosts spoilers

[exactlycleverpirate]

Half Baked Theories

So here are my half-baked theories upon reading all of the Love and Deepspace myths, anecdotes, etc.

So, Rafayel found MC isolated on an island for some reason or other, surrounded by the ocean and doomed to one day be drowned by the sea. They fell in love, and he gave her his heart, quite literally (somehow), though he remains connected to it through their bond. Because Lemurian's blood is eternal, and she is now bound to one, and the God of the Sea at that, she is now eternal. Sort of. But not undying. Neither are the Lemurians undying, as we see they can be killed. (I suspect this all takes place on Earth before it's destruction, since Philos is described as separate tectonic plates held together by its core, making me think the oceans have disappeared (drained into space perhaps?)).

By the time we meet MC in the current timeline, she is already bound to Rafayel in some fashion or other. Does that mean she already has his heart? She also has an Aethor protocore implanted into her heart via scientific experimentation. Perhaps Rafayel gives her his heart later in some effort to save her from something due to the Aethor core? Maybe this results in a resonance link of some sort, between the eternal Lemurian heart of the God of the Sea and the Aethor protocore. In Xavier’s Myth, we learn that protocores used to have hearts inside them. (MC's Evol also pertains to Resonance.)

(Also, what is frozen in ice on Mount Eternal? Possibly another Aethor Core?)

So now flash forward to Philos. In Zayne's Myth, we learn that MC's heart is connected to the Creatio protocore. Due to the resonance of the Creatio and her heart, it drains her heart to power itself. It also can heal her heart when fused with it (at least temporarily?). When she meets Xavier on a young Philos, she already knows her heart is dying and that there is a particular protocore that can somehow heal her. (How does she know of this rare protocore? Who told her?)

Perhaps the Creatio protocore used to be the Aethor core fused to the God of the Sea’s heart. Then somehow, with Earth’s destruction, the heart and the Creatio are separated, but still linked by resonance. This begins the endless cycle of draining the Sea God's heart to power the Creatio, which kills MC, but because the heart is that of an eternal Lemurian, she reincarnates, to repeat the process again and again. (Is the Creatio the core of the planet that keeps Philos' people immortal, or is her heart linked to the core, perhaps by fusing it with the Creatio, at a later point when the original power of the core is drained away?)

In this first life on Philos, Xavier brings her the Creatio, but it is too late to save her (or he doesn't know how to use it) and she dies.

Perhaps as a result of the Creatio being forcefully taken once, (who did Xavier have to fight to retrieve it from?) the Creatio is placed under the watch of the Foreseer in the Tower of Thorns, by the mysterious "god" Astra. MC is reincarted over and over, drawn to the Creatio and Foreseer over and over, she dies over and over, and his memories are erased each time, until finally Zayne breaks free and sacrifices himself to save MC, fusing her heart and the Creatio and saving her life. Zayne falls into eternal slumber, trapped in the frozen tower, behind a never ending blizzard.

Presumably, this is a temporary fix somehow or other, and she dies again eventually, or is killed.

Meanwhile, multiple Gods of the the Sea have lived over time. (Are these all reincarnations of Rafayel or are there other Sea Gods as well?) Eventually, MC is reincarnated in the Golden Sands. By this point, somehow the people of Philos have come to understand that her heart keeps them immortal. Philos is at least 30,000 years old by this point, as its seas have been dry for 30,000 years. The people of Philos have placed MC under guard in a palace. Her heart is not noticeably dying now, perhaps because Zayne reunited it with the Creatio.

She and Rafayel reunite, and she eventually remembers their history. She also learns that if she does not return the Sea God's heart to Rafayel (by cutting it out of her chest and dying), he will eventually fall into eternal slumber and the seas will never be restored. Rafayel attempts to save her by erasing her memories and severing the bond between them, leaving the heart with her. However, MC is able to recover both her memories and the bond. She and Rafayel escape together in search of a solution.

(At this point, we don't know how this ends. Does Rafayel fall into eternal slumber? Does MC kill herself in an effort to save him, or does his servant kill her to try to save Rafayel and restore the sea? Perhaps Rafayel, like Xavier, finds a way to go back in time? No idea.)

Once more, we assume MC dies again at some point. She is eventually reincarnated at a time when Philos is beginning to die. She and Xavier attend an Academy together. Xavier learns that Starfall Forest contains (or is connected to?) the core of the planet, which now requires human lives to stay powered. It consumes humans, which become Wanderers who contain a protocore that used to contain their heart. The royal family started out sending human sacrifices into the forest, but eventually figured out MC could be the endless sacrifice to power the core.

(When did they discover this? Presumably the royal family has been alive since the creation of Philos, since Xavier has been around since its very early years, and he is the Crown Prince. The royal family sent regular emissaries to the Foreseer for prophecies from Astra. The royal family also is mentioned in Rafayel's myth, when MC clarifies that she is not actually related to the royal family. So how long have they known about MC and when did they begin intentionally sacrificing her to power the heart? Is this how she dies even though both Zayne and Rafayel sacrifice themselves to save her? There are no Wanderers in Zayne or Rafayel's myths. Did they not exist yet? They exist on Earth, but perhaps that is due to them traveling through spacetime with Xavier’s timejump.)

The MC at the end of Xavier’s Myth has no current obvious problem with her heart, though Xavier seems fearful of one. But if she is no longer dying to power the core, then surly that means the core will begin to die, and the planet and people of Philos with it. Xavier and a team leave MC as Queen of Philos, and they travel back in time in an effort to find a way to stop the planet and MC from dying. However, something goes wrong, and they crash. The Deepspace Tunnel opens up over Linkon, and through it, the dead planet of Philos can be seen.

Please give me your thoughts, peeps. I am desperate the talk lore with someone.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #rafayel #xavier #zayne

[bitternest]

/rubs eyes it's seven am who gets up at 7am

People who get dinged repeatedly about Tumblr shutting down apparently.

Christ on a bike. Okay, long post inbound. On Tumblr's fate, enshittification and navigating the post-web2.0 world.

So I've been meaning to make a post like this for a while now, but because tech is literally my job I... haven't.

First off, Tumblr isn't being shut down. It's being put on legacy support. Maybe one day it will be shut down, but Automattic seems to have the costs dialed in and don't seem to want to nuke it. Yay.

This day was always going to come for one simple reason - social media websites are fundamentally impossible to fund. The cost of that much image and video hosting and bandwidth is not scalable without passing that cost over to the user. In most cases, this is done by making the user the product. But this is non-sustainable. As Tumblr discovered, as Twitter is discovering and as Google Has Ordained, that social media will inevitably be censored and restricted at the whim of the people actually paying - advertisers. And then your users stop caring. Some sites get around this by also robbing you of your dopamine production as well as your privacy - i.e. getting you engaged with their Algorithm.

So, enough with the reasoning, what can you do about this. Well, you can try the next big thing. For many people, that's bluesky. I don't know about you, but I don't think highly of Twitter 2.0 - from the dude who couldn't make Twitter profitable the first time around. And to be clear, its sole goal is to be profitable. It's a corporation. That's... it's purpose. It's purpose is to extract wealth.

For me, the only two vaguely viable options are cohost and the fediverse. Cohost because haha palette-swapped Tumblr but also because the core ideas the founders had are neat and resonate with me.

And the fediverse because that's the only technologically viable way forward for what we've come to expect social networks to be. It is a network in the real sense, an interconnected sprawl of self-hosted servers that individuals or communities are responsible for and the best way to deal with the costs of social media - distributing them. Mastodon is the most famous service in this space, but there are others. Explaining the fediverse outside of "a network of social networks" is beyond the scope of this post and is a real issue with adoption because, no, it's not necessarily easy.

But now we get to the real crux of my post:

The resilient things aren't easy. If you want to build and participate in something lasting, you need to do some hard things. Sometimes that's learning what the fuck @[email protected] is supposed to mean. Sometimes it's learning how to read an RSS feed. For artists it can mean learning to set up your own website, with zero code and for free even! (sorry @varethane, i'll get the post up eventually) For tech people it means finding an IRC (what, you think Slack is gonna survive its own enshittification?).

Frequently, it's learning how to back up your posts. Because no matter the site, the day will come when hosting 20 billion jpegs overtakes the cash flow of shiny rainbow crabs.

It is a requirement of the post-web2.0 world that you become more tech-savvy. As we tire of corporate horseshit, we must become more capable of forging our own way. If you want to stay connected, you need to learn how to make and maintain those connections, both social and technological.

And to not end this post on a somber and self-important note, that mastodon id isn't me - I never joined because no server ever appealed to me. If anyone's got suggestions I'm listening. I'm bitternest on cohost as well. Mutuals can DM me for my Discord.

Miss me with those bluesky invites tho

#tumblr #cohost #bluesky #mastodon #fediverse #tumblr shutting down

[aurora-daily]

AURORA in an interview for Ticketmaster via Amroth | April 6th, 2024

In April 2022, AURORA read a letter that changed her life. It was co-written by indigenous activists, titled ‘We Are the Earth’, and called for a revolution: a collective response to global warming – to “heal the land”. They described being connected to the land “through our hearts”, and the earth as “the heart that pulsates within us.”

The letter led AURORA to consider a question: what happened to the heart? “Everything we do is about greed, about money, about mass consumption, about capitalism,” she says, blue wide-eyed and flooded with feeling. “There’s war everywhere, countries under water, flowers in Antarctica. We are ruining our land, mistreating our animals, our clothing, and each other. We have stopped leading from the heart.”

And so 27-year-old Norwegian art-pop superstar AURORA began studying books on human anatomy. She wanted to understand when and why Western culture lost touch with the deeper purpose of our most vital organ.

“The ancient Greeks thought the heart was the portal to spiritual divinity, that it represented the interconnectedness of the world,” she says. “But then Aristotle comes along and says, ‘the heart is a pump’. Then Plato says, ‘the heart makes blood’. Then another guy says, ‘the heart filters the blood’. And so bit by bit, it became purely functional. We had misinterpreted its whole meaning.”

The letter also resonated with AURORA on a more personal level. In 2022, she released her chart-topping last album, The Gods We Can Touch, which saw her complete a sold out UK headline tour, including at BST Hyde Park alongside Adele. With over a million album sales and 2.6 billion streams, and her inaugural The Gods We Can Touch book selling 14,000 copies (while signed copies sold out in less than an hour), AURORA was at her professional peak. Yet at the same time she experienced something painful that split her in two. She sensed a disconnect between her mind and heart. “It made me understand women in a way I hadn’t before. It made me understand how evil hides behind the nicest of faces.”

AURORA’s fourth album, What Happened to the Heart?, is a journey from weakness to strength, from self-destruction to self-healing. Of reuniting a fractured self. “It’s actually the most personal and cathartic album I have ever written,” she says quietly, as if the realisation had only just come to her.

‘Some Type of Skin’, a dark slice of electro-pop, reveals the conflict at the album’s core. “When you’re vulnerable, anything that brushes up against you makes you bleed,” she says. “But you need to go into battle, you need to build some type of skin.” In the song, AURORA cries: “Hit me hard where I am soft… should my heart reveal itself to be more than a muscle? Or a fist covered in blood?”

To build her armour, AURORA decided to throw herself into chaos. “Usually I am very careful, very reasonable” she says. “But for once I wanted to experience what it felt to be unreasonable. I needed to be destructive.” So she gave herself a year, while she was touring ‘The Gods We Can Touch’, to throw herself into life hard and fast. “A lot of alcohol, very little sleep, a lot of fun,” she smiles, a little wistfully. She went ice swimming and hurled things in rage rooms. “It was painful, but I was building skin.”

The chaos extended to the writing process. “I had a rule: I could only write in unsafe spaces, I needed to be rootless.” That meant no forests, where AURORA had spent much of her childhood in Bergen, Norway – a solitary safe haven away from those who made her “feel alien”. These “unsafe spaces” were loud, full of people, “strange smells, noises…anywhere where I could feel observed”.

AURORA travelled all over the word, meeting with women she describes as modern day philosophers, “women with true knowledge”. In particular, three female tribe leaders in Colombia, Brazil and Argentina. “There is wisdom in their indigenous values. These women live in the modern world just like us, but they still choose to live with kindness.”

She was inspired by their feminine power. “Men have been leading us for thousands of years and look where that has got us. We need change, and women have had everything figured out from the very beginning of time. We were the first timekeepers, we could track the seasons inside our own bodies.” She grins cheekily. “I would be scared of us too, if I were a man.”

Feminine strength inspired 'The Gods We Can Touch' – fighting against internal shame and societal judgement of the female body – and it is no less present here. Above the throbbing techno of 'Starvation', produced by German Nicolas Rebscher, who also worked on her debut EP 'Running With the Wolves', AURORA mourns the depletion of the human spirit as a result of technological invasion that is particularly threatening to women. “Our souls are starving, because AI is taking over; art is being replaced by computers,” she says, gravely. “And women, our consent, is being exploited, as it always has been, from porn to deep fakes.”

The act of mourning is integral to What Happened to the Heart? As AURORA says, “I’ve been thinking a lot about funerals, and in the music people used to deal with death”. She drew on buried grief for loved ones, as well mourning her former self.

“In Norway there is a culture of repression. I suppressed something for so long, and became infected by it,” she says, with a deep sigh. “So once I began to properly address my past, I realised that a lot of things I remembered were very different from how I imagined. And I had to accept that I have to change to move on. I am not the same as I was". She adds, firmly: "I have to learn how to work with this body, in this mind, as they are now.”

This mourning led to a kind of holy communion between AURORA's heart and mind for the first time. “I spent a lot of time drinking wine alone, speaking out loud, my heart and mind finally in conversation.” She would record these conversations and later transcribe them as fodder for her songs, such as ‘The Dark Dresses Lightly’, a haunting folkloric melody over an urgent drum pattern, which imagines the heart and the mind as two characters sitting at a table, drinking together – you can even hear the glasses clinking in the production.

AURORA leans forward conspiratorially. “So the heart says, ‘Okay, now, we've gone too long without communicating. Tonight, we're going to get drunk, go deep into this shit, and explode on each other’.” The song is the album’s turning point, AURORA adds, “when all the ugly has come out, and you can kind of hear me having an orgasm because getting everything out is so delicious, and the healing can truly begin.”

These imaginary exchanges felt so visceral to AURORA that she would sometimes paint them; the heart and mind in a sword duel, “splattering all over each other”, she says, her face lighting up with mischievous delight.

It’s a viscerality mirrored by the album’s production: a thrumming, primal force that confronts the almost ecclesiastical purity of AURORA’s own vocals. “It reflects this idea of the body falling apart, and being glued back together by something inhuman.” This discord is brought to life by “beautiful old synthesisers” that AURORA found all over the world, including with previous collaborator Tom Rowlands of The Chemical Brothers. “I got him to puke all over the song ‘My Body is Not Mine’ with his old modular synths” she says, which, fittingly, “had a mind of their own.”  

Despite the thematic and sonic darkness of the album, AURORA wanted to maintain a certain playfulness. “A very random, very intuitive,” way of producing. She collaborated with some of her favourite Norwegian artists and producers, from Ane Brun on ‘My Name’, to Matias Tellez on ‘Invisible Wounds’. On some tracks she plays the drums, a fiddle player and a traditional Chinese Pipa player were brought in, and some songs contain a “beautiful mandolin from the 60s”, she says, smiling, picking up an imaginary bow as she loses herself in the memory. There is even a disco song, ‘Do You Feel?’, produced by longtime collaborator Magnus Skylstad and sure to be a club-banger and chart hit. “It makes no sense, I have no idea why it’s on the album,” AURORA laughs, like a tinkling bell. “But my sister was born in the 80s and I was kind of thinking about her. And I liked the idea of having a song that made no sense.”

Not all these songs are a product of chaos, however. The first and the last songs of the album, ‘The Echo of My Shadow’ and ‘Invisible Wounds’, were written in the quiet. “In my living room, where it was safe. They came directly from my solitude.” And with this quiet comes hope: “We both need to/Tend to the invisible wounds,” AURORA sings, a call to action for herself, to the listener, and to the world, to rupture with this malignant state of inertia, to fight back, to heal. “We need to stop this sense of global denial. We need to blow up, because it’s important, sometimes, to explode. Explosion is vital for change, to put the heart back into politics.” She smiles, and says, in the softest tone: “I think what we need... is a small riot.”

#aurora #aurora aksnes #interviews #what happened to the heart? #some type of skin #starvation #my body is not mine #The Echo of My Shadow #invisible wounds #do you feel

[driftwithme]

what do you think about mako and raleigh's relationship? prefer it romantic or platonic?

I love them a great lot wkdnfkndnfnfnf

I'm okay with almost any interpretation of their relationship, okay? Because not matter what tag a person choose to assign them, all that matter is that the person acknowledges how important they are for each other.

From my point of view, the canon shows that they are more than any traditional category. To try and place them as just friends or just lovers or just family is to cut a great deal of why they are so special. I think I said it before but the concept of being drift compatible is very queer to me. Not romantically or even sexually queer as in attraction, but rather in the sense of being out of the norm. A bond like that doesn't obey our concepts of what two people together can be. If anything, you can call them soulmates, making sure that you are not saying thinking of romance but rather of a dynamic of its own.

To make an example, they make me think of that story from Plato's Symposium:

To explain it in a few words, the story tells of a third kind of being; there were women and men and androgynous (meaning both man and woman). This being has twice the limbs, two faces and was twice as strong and fast.

Scared of these beings, the gods decided to divide them by half, provoking them to live in pain and sorrow at first, 'til one god felt bad enough to sew them as individuals and allow them to exist like that.

It's one of the myths of soulmates. Of course these myth is greater in philosophical terms that I can explain right now. It chooses to say things about biology and sex and energy and nature-- what I am trying to say is that Mako and Raleigh together read as one. Not two on a relationship, but more like one soul divided in two bodies.

Yancy and Raleigh were brothers.

Herc and Chuck were father and son.

The Kaidonovskys were husband and wife.

There's a clear separation. You can tell what they are, define them easily, even if they feel like one, merged at the edges.

But Raleigh and Mako? It's the most strange and wonderful thing. He speaks her native tongue upon meeting her. She studied him for years, his tactics, his behaviour. He knew from just a quick study of character that she was more than she was showing, she wanted more, she expected more.

They didn't need to step on a drift to see the other, to understand each other, to read the other's mind. It was recognition at first sight. It was resonance, matching energies, their souls existing in unison without needing any sort of stimulation.

Look at them!!!!

They are one and the same! They lived totally separated lives and they had totally different experiences. There is no reason for them to feel connected. Most jaeger pilots are friends or family or romantically involved, but Mako and Raleigh had just met! Their personalities are different, they bodies are different, even their ideals are different.

Yet-- at their core, at heart, their essence is the very same.

He calls to her and she answers. It's crazy the way they bloom in each other's presence. He challenges her, she returns the favor. He lets her in, asks about her aspirations, calls her to the mat to spar, speaks her language, defies Pentecost for her, guides her to the drift and out of the drift and holds her afterwards, he takes care of her during battle-- he starts the work, just for her to finish it.

She talks back, jokes back, joins him to spar and on the conn-pod. She follows his voice, feels his pain, listens to him when he needs to talk about Yancy, she keeps him steady on their bond, with the serenity of her mind and the focus of her actions. She fights to be his equal, she shows him she's the only one who can meet him at the middle, she proves that she is the right person, they're made for each other: drift compatible but so much more.

But of course, I'm on the aromantic and the asexual spectrum, so I love to explore their bond and the inherited intimacy of it out of the reach of amatonormativity. Love the idea of talking about how they don't need sexual interactions or romance to be the #1 priority of each other, the most important thing in their lives, etc.

I personally prefer them in that dynamic, in the platonic sense of soulmates wjdnkdnfn.

Hope you like this answer!!!!

#pacific rim #pacrim #pacific rim 2013 #pacrim 2013 #raleigh becket #mako mori

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Okay, this may come off sounding overly Buffypilled, but I think the fatal flaw that keeps preventing the pieces from coming together in SyFy's The Magicians (a show that is often good in its elements but Does Not Cohere) is that it can't figure out the nature of its core metaphor around magic.

But Milo, you say, maybe not everything has to be like, a metaphor? Maybe it can just be a fantasy show where people cast spells and bop around between dimensions because it's fun and entertaining? And to that I say, yeah, theoretically it can be that, but stuff that wants to be emotionally resonant is usually not that.

So there's typically an operative metaphor to these things, an idea that gives structure to the supernatural elements and helps us understand what's going on thematically. So like in Buffy and Supernatural, the structuring metaphor is The Pleasant-Seeming World Vs The Monsters Below Us. You understand the story by locating various characters in terms of their role in the conflict -- predators, protectors, prey -- and there's an ongoing tension around whether or not it's okay for protectors to dabble too much in Monstrosity, if the powers and tactics of the Monstrous can ever be repurposed for good.

That's not the structure of all stories, even in that genre! Teen Wolf and Harry Potter both have "secret occult world parallel to the familiar one" premises, as does The Magicians, but none of those stories impose the predator/prey metaphor onto their worlds. Teen Wolf structures its metaphors around the opposite assumption: that the supernatural element (The Wolf) is inherently neutral, and that accessing it makes characters simultaneously more dangerous and more capable of good. Hunters are bad guys in that universe, but good guys in Buffy and SPN, because the audience understands that "magic" is carrying a different set of meanings in the different stories, right?

The novels that The Magicians is based on has an extremely clear and pointed perspective on the meaning that magic carries metaphorically, and it's a positive meaning. Magic stands in for the power to make sense and meaning out of your own life, which is why the books follow Quentin's process from being a frustrated child using escapist child-stories to distract himself to playing an active role within those stories to assuming authority as a Magician King to ultimately killing the god of his childhood fantasy stories and creating his own Magician's Land to explore. Gaining more magic is always good in the books; it makes Quentin more sure of himself and the world, and it makes him more able to change it. It's an obvious metaphor for evolving over his 20s from a child who consumes stories to an adult who tells his own story.

But that's not the case in the show. A significant percentage of the show is an argument with itself about what magic even is -- does it solve problems or create them? If it's the reason lives across the multiverse are constantly at risk, is that bad? It sounds bad! But it's also power, and the show is highly sympathetic to the desire to Have More Power -- often completely divorced from the purpose or use of power. Gods seem mostly terrible, except Persephone, who's right to give Julia divine power, which we want Julia to be able to keep? But why do we want Julia to be a god? They're terrible! It's not clear. The nature of the power isn't clear, but the show has a general bias toward more power being a good thing -- except that the Library clearly has too much power, and so probably does Brakebills, both of which withhold magic for purposes that are protective or elitist or both? The show advocates for fewer restrictions on magic, but it also shows total carnage resulting from minor fuckups with magic, so -- does it really want the Library to just throw open to the floodgates? Doesn't it pretty strongly imply that a bloodbath would ensue if people had unfettered access to magic?

I realize it kind of sounds like I'm saying complicated stories with conflicting perspectives are bad, but I'm not. I just think it's difficult to know how to feel about anything that happens in the show because of this extremely loose approach to its use of themes. Alice is presented as wrong and bad when she tries to stifle magic, because the other characters like magic, but is she wrong? Why is she wrong? Why do the other characters like magic so much? It's presented as something that provides -- meaning or joy or some quasi-spiritual sense of identity ("the secret heart of who you always were"), but the show doesn't actually make that case, it doesn't demonstrate that the characters are better or happier because they're Magicians -- not in the same clear way that Scott McCall or book!Quentin are demonstrably more confident and comfortable and wiser at the end of their stories than they were at the beginning. As many times as I've watched The Magicians, I have to say I get less convinced every time that any of them benefit much from being Magicians -- and yet the story itself seems sure that they do, that magic has inherent value of some kind.

That's a weird combination, and it leaves me with the uncomfortable sense that the addiction metaphor is the one the show is fleshing out most fully. Fogg offers Quentin magic in exchange for his pills. Julia can't access magic legally and immediately behaves exactly like a junkie. If you do too much you'll be consumed, leaving an angry ghost. Kady's literal substance abuse, like Fogg's, is entwined at every step with the struggle to cope with the traumas of magic. Eliot is possessed by a creature of enormous magical power who is enthralled by the sensation of being high and has no perception of limits or consequence. They go back and back again to this entangling of magic and intoxication and addiction and self-destruction, but they never seem either aware of or willing to admit that they've created a world where magic itself is an addictive intoxicant, unable to provide real solutions to anyone's problems, but just pleasurable enough compared to the pain of sobriety to keep people chasing the sensation right over the cliff.

It's not intentional enough to be a metaphor that carries through consistently and explains everything, but it returns so frequently as a subtext that it ends up seeping into all the gaps where they've refused to show up with any other clear thematic agenda.

#the magicians

[lollytea]

I dont think it's really fair to assume that Hunter knows Willow better than Gus does. And its so heartbreaking how Gus berates himself over it, and thinks he's stupid for being tricked by the fake Willow and so many times before, when in reality his "weakness" is that he has such a huge capacity for trust, friendship and understanding and this can often lead to his downfall. This is a pretty consistent thing with Gus.

In Something Ventured, Someone Framed, Gus is tricked when Mattholomule pulled out a bullshit sob story about wanting to fit in and make friends. Of course this resonated with Gus and he was immediately willing to accept and befriend him, even if Mattholomule had been so spiteful to him until this point.

In Looking Through the Glass Ruins, Gus is manipulated into joining this graverobbing quest because he was already feeling so down on himself and the Glandus kids made him believe they were his friends. This seems to be a memory that he beats himself over the most.

And it is revealed in Labyrinth Runners that this has been happening to him for years. Whenever the concept of frienship is used against him, he falls for it every time.

But that doesn't mean that Gus trusts blindly. In Any Sport in a Storm, he had his reservations about Hunter. But why was that? Specifically because of Willow, his best friend, one of the first people to love him with no strings attached. He made it clear that this obviously suspicious new dude better not ruin something that was so important to her. Gus trusts for the sake of friendship but also sometimes he doesn't trust for that same reason.

It's the lesson he tries to teach Hunter. That there will always be people that won't mess with him and he needs to be willing to let them in. And it's lovely that even after all the times Gus has been deceived, he remains so open to the concept of trust because friendship is just so deeply important to him.

When Gus was tricked by fake Willow, it wasn't because he didn't know her well enough. It's shown earlier in the episode that he knew Amity was severely underestimating her and refers to Willow's more recent sense of strength as "The real you."

But yeah, he was tricked because of that weakness of his cropping up again. He loves Willow so much. He had been worried about her, he needed to know she was safe. So when he saw her again, the relief flooded all rational thought and he believed what he wanted to believe.

And this moment of weakness absolutely destroys him. He sees himself as an idiot unable to see through the lie. But like. Gus' keen eye for illusions is what saved the Hexside students in the first place. Without him, they wouldn't have known not to trust Graye. Gus knows a lie when he sees one but his judgement just keeps getting so muddled when his friends are concerned.

But then at the very end, it's Hunter who pulls him out of this self loathing state. So, yeah, Gus' being so influenced by friendship can lead to getting himself in trouble. But if it hadn't been for him reaching out to Hunter and the lessons he taught him, the other boy would have been unable to return the favor in the end and save Gus from himself.

Gus, at his core, is extremely friendship oriented and this is both one of his biggest flaws and biggest strengths. 💙

#toh spoilers #toh #the owl house #gus porter #i love him so much

[noyasaur]

heyyyyy :)

just wanted to say i am in absolute LOVE of ur blog theme, its so aesthetic i can't

was wondering why u believe in the law of assumption and how u built ur belief

i also wonder whether u have doubts about the law and how u overcome them

feel free to answer this at ur only leisure and time :)

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

helloooo and AAA thank you so much!! you're too sweet (◕‿◕)♡

but let me get onto answering ur questions!

🪐 WHY I BELIEVE IN LOA AND HOW I BUILT MY BELIEFS

the reason i believe in the law of assumption, is because besides having used it before even knowing about it, it's a law that i resonate with and makes sense to me. before even knowing about the law of assumption, a lot of my core beliefs were built around people believing in what they wanted to believe. i believed that the experience of life is a subjective one, and i've always resonated with the belief that whatever people believes in, will happen to them. additionally, i've been in the manifestation and subliminal since i was very young (i discovered subliminals and manifestation at 12 years old) so i think that also affects me and why i believe in the law.

what built my beliefs on the law, was not only experiencing it myself but also doing A TON of research. truthfully speaking, i am naturally a very curious and open-minded person, so it's never been very hard for me to believe in the things like loa, manifestation, and reality shifting. of course, doing a lot of research and reading about people's experiences helped solidified my beliefs in the law of assumption, while it being something that i've always resonated with.

plus, there has been countless of times and experiences where i've manifested things using the law without even knowing of the law itself.

🪐 DO YOU HAVE DOUBTS ABOUT THE LAW AND HOW DO YOU OVERCOME THEM?

of course! i still do have plenty of doubts surrounding the law. while i would love to have no doubts at all, i still do have doubts about the law. it's normal :) however, i do have ways to overcome this.

every time i feel myself doubting about the law, i've simply snapped myself out of it before i could let myself spiral. i would replace negative thoughts with positive ones. for example, if i worry and think, "the law doesn't work for me," i would retort back thinking, "of course it does. the law DOES work for me," and i would repeat that combatting positive affirmation over and over again. or, i simply just let the doubt pass in my mind and don't pay any attention to it or let it have any power. doubts do not have any power unless you let them have power! once i realised this and started applying, i started truly seeing what this meant and no longer let any doubt i have stop me from getting what i want and nor did i let me spiral.

additionally, the more i've applied the law and kept myself on a strict mental diet, the more i find myself naturally and subconsciously accepting my new beliefs. i naturally find myself normalising that i can use the law and i create my reality the more i keep assuming positive things and getting into the habit of doing it (and this is coming from somebody who used to be the most negative and depressed overthinker in the world). once i realised that loa is not only a manifestation technique, but a way of living and thinking, i started applying the law to my everyday life and i can confidently say my life has improved ever since. i've felt happier, less stressed, and more in control (while also not craving for control of situations- meaning i don't stress as much and i'm able to let go and know that everything will go my way).

also, the more i worked on my self-concept and applied loa to my everyday life, the easier it was to see myself as a person who could manifest and get anything they want. my self-concept was absolutely HORRIBLE before, and it's definitely improved (not perfect, but we're getting there). self-concept matters a lot, so i started to accept that YES, i do deserve everything good and i do deserve my dream life, so i should start accepting that i am capable of these things and i do deserve it. and i am worthy.

to be honest, our of everything, i think the one thing that was improved my beliefs in the law and having less doubts, was simply repetition and persisting. even when i had doubts about the law, no matter what, i still kept using it and applying it in my everyday life. and slowly but surely, these beliefs slowly sunk into my subconscious.

i hope my answers are able to help you! have a wonderful day and wishing you all the best~♡

- saturn ♡

#shifting blog #desired realities #shiftblr #loa #law of assumption #law of assumption blog #noyasaur #ask saturn💌 #🪐 ― saturn's loa advice!

[sorbeau]

THIS IS THAT MANIFESTO I WROTE I WANT THE TITLE TATTOOD ON MY EYEBALLS I THINK

The Stars, God, and Most Importantly, You.

There is a fundamental misconception held by most people in the world, in which we believe that we are distinct from everything around us. All of our existence centers on the idea that we are separated from the rest of the universe, and we foolishly act as if we are not built from the stars just as everything else on our planet is. We deceive ourselves into thinking that we are not part of the universe, but watchers and controllers of it.

I was raised by three instead of the American standard of two. My mother was a woman of gentle guidance, my father was a man of simple resolve, and my stepfather was a man of complex science. Describing him as a “man of science” may sound cold and distant, but in my experience, science is anything but. Yes, he was the traditional ex-Christian religion doubter scientist pessimist, but he was anything but cold. Where my mother taught me empathy, and my father taught me responsibility, my stepdad taught me curiosity and truth. 

By teaching me about science and the natural order of things, he instilled in me the gift of investigation and wonder, and through a clinical eye he showed me the complex, improbable wonders of the world. He showed me how flowers reproduce before I learned to write, and he taught me that the smell of rain is petrichor from the earth instead of how to tie my shoes. From him, I learned to ask “why?”.

This being said, my step-father gifted me with three core ideals: 

Science is the only truth in this world, if it cannot be proven, it cannot be.

There is no true God.

If you believe something to be true, fight for it.

This list may be controversial to some. Especially those who enjoy the comfort of religion, but before you storm off in a rage to deliver me passionate speeches on the glory of Allah, or God, or Whoever, listen to the rest of my statements. My step-father is a cold and critical scientist, but I have decided that the science he gave me is nothing short of kind and loving.

Everything I’ve been given, from my name to my ideals, has been changed and morphed to fit me comfortably, and this includes my definition of science and reasoning. This isn’t to say that I’m giving in to delusion, modern religion still has little resonance within me, but I can appreciate the desperate nature in which human love is channeled through it. There is very little in this universe that we understand, so we tend to explain it using abstract, ineffable terms like “divinity”, and the same goes for ourselves. Still, instead of exploring it using the tool of religion, we use science. To the smallest protons, science still cannot fully explain what is happening in your body, just as religion cannot explain what happens amongst the stars. There is so much of our existence that we will simply never know, and using all of the logic and science given to me by my step-father, it has left me stumped and floundering for an answer for as long as I could ponder the subject. However, I have found my answer.

That answer has always been, and will always be, Chaos, Love, and Time. Life always begins with Chaos and improbability, the chances of a sperm reaching an egg to form a baby, or stars colliding to form new elements have always been infinitesimally small. And yet, Chaos is so widespread and ever-present that there happens to be a sizable planet absolutely chock-full of that Life stuff. Of course, Time, being both the cultivator and the reaper of Life pushes it along its journey and is there to see us off when our Life ends. Chaos is our maker, and Time is our unmaker.

But what happens during Life? What gives it its supposed meaning? What gives it its worth? Love. The only thing that makes this consciousness business bearable is that it’s filled to the brim with Love. I don’t mean the simple “I think that girl is cute” kind of love, I mean the ever-present, all-encompassing, so-huge-and-universal-that-it’s-quite-impossible-to-wrap-my-head-around-without-crying Love (the capital “L” is important).

Love surrounds us at every moment whether we notice it or not. There is love in the way the sun shines, the way dirt holds us up, and the way fruit tastes sweet on our tongues. The universe loves itself in ways that are so complicated that men have spent their entire lives trying to unravel the tangled web of energy, and have labeled it science. Yes, science is a pursuit of love. What could be a grander expression of Love than for a human, made of stardust and milk and earth, to dedicate themself to the understanding of the universe in which they are a part?

I was taught to be a man of science, and in the important ways I am. But science, I’ve learned, is more “divine” than my step-father gave it credit for. We both agree that there is no Christian God, but I believe that if She exists, (God would be a She, I believe, as most mothers tend to be) She is the abstract personification of Chaos, Love, and Time, for which we wonderful creatures worship through Science.

#i tried to copy and paste the entire thing on my ipad but it wouldn't work #i was gonna send a google doc link out of desperation when i remembered that computers exist #im actually so giddy about this i love talking about it and sharing it #thank you tumblr user gingermarshmallow ur my number 1 fan actually adn ily 4ever and ever #any time i get a single ounce of support or praise i go feral and insane #tomorrow it will be back to my usual depraved activities but today it's ideology and philosophy #PLEASE PLEASE SOMEONE TALK TO ME ABOUT HUMAN PHILOSOPHY AND MEANING GOD PLEASE #it's sorta ranty and not very well held together but you get the idea

[nhaneh]

So I kind of want to expand a bit on what I mean when I say that I think AC6 is lesser for its obsession with difficulty, and I'm going to use one of its endings for it, specifically the one that comes first in the mission list.

See, the ending is rather tragic - they all are, honestly. I don't know about the other games, but Armored Core 6 is pretty forthright about how even in victory war brings mostly just grief and loss. Still, it's a rather poignant final battle due to who you fight and why.

Or, at least, it would be if the enemy wasn't such a cheating bastard.

The first time I went into that fight, I felt really sympathetic towards my opponent and my feelings resonated with the tragedy of our conflict. By the twentieth or so time I hit Retry Mission, those feelings were all long gone and replaced with frustration and desire for murder. The well-voiced lines of dialogue once tinged with betrayal and regret had come to sound only hollow and insincere.

People talk about how the point is the elation that follows from eventual success, but I don't feel that - my headspace just lingers in the frustration that's built up during the encounter and until that has time to abate my emotions are largely just a lot of residual spite with nowhere to go, which doesn't really leave a whole room for sympathy towards whatever the following cutscenes wete trying to go on about. In the end, it made the emotional message of the game feel more one of how cheaters prosper while those who try to persevere despite being bound by rules that their opposition can freely ignore earn only misery and spite. Which, while uncomfortably real, is perhaps not the message they were going for.

This is in stark contrast to the boss of the second ending, which was actually the ending I went for first, where you fight an enemy AC - a powerful one to be sure, but still a battle where you and your enemy are both on more or less equal terms, and while it was a challenging battle, it never felt that same kind of unfair where my opponent relied on cheating or otherwise ignoring game mechanics in order to artificially inflate its difficulty.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I find the second ending my favourite one in the game - it certainly has plenty of its own tragedy and loss, and is perhaps the one I'm the most ideologically close to, but ultimately it was also the only one that wasn't marred by the game demanding to make me hate it before it would let me see it.

Now, of course, I'm well aware that not every game is for every person, and while AC6 has a lot of aesthetic and narrative aspects that are very much my thing, the difficulty level definitely goes well outside my comfort zone in places*. At the same time though, I can't help but think that if you're intentionally designing a game to make encounters frustratingly difficult, you might also want to recognize the ways frustration will alter someone's perception, rather than just assuming they will immediately be right back on board with your narrative and not instead busy themselves with picking it apart out of spite.

(*I say places because quite honestly the difficulty curve is kind of like a drunken mayfly flitting about all over the place with neither rhyme nor reason. The game isn't so much consistently hard as it is mostly average difficulty that randomly out of nowhere hits you with a brick wall. It's almost comical how inconsistent it is about it)

[secretmellowblog]

i'm really sorry about spnblr, sending love (and as a non american your nov 5th post resonated!)

Thank you, thank you, it means a lot!!!!!!!!!!!! To be honest, I expected blowback on my "the November 5th 2020 hysterical site meltdown was at its heart about the stressful political times and not the supernatural fandom" post, and I knew what I was walking into-- I mean, there's really nothing more Iconically Superwholock than dogpiling on a random person for their opinions on fandom stuff! I have been getting far more agreement than pushback, for the record! And it's honestly very worthwhile/funny/even heartbreaking reading through the comments, and remembering the wild political terror, despair, horror, and exhilaration that day involved. Someone reminded me that the Covid vaccines hadn't even been released yet-- we were still in the phase where we feared there might never be publicly available vaccines, and we would just all have to wait our turns to die! Remember that? Another person compared November 5th to the way you often laugh hysterically after a near-death experience; after barely surviving a car crash, suddenly the smallest things can be very funny. I do think the Frivolous Fandom News everyone latched onto on November 5th had to be a Big Fandom Ship with a wide reach that had lots of nostalgic value and a reputation as an iconic Tumblr Thing(tm), because that's the core of what makes it so funny. But again, it could've been Johnlock becoming canon-- it's not really about the specific fandom. (I also think some people are reading that original post uncharitably XD. I said it could have been any frivolous inane fandom news, yeah, but I also did say that it had to be something with a comparable level of Reach--which to me means a similar level of 'dashboard osmosis'/reputation as a tumblr ship/nostalgic value/etc. Yes, things would have looked different if it had been another fandom with comparable reach, but still. The reason I didn't go into depth about that angle was because I think people overemphasize the fandom side of it already, and I didn't want to make another post on that haha.)

But even the pushback I'm getting from Supernatural fans is so far just very entertaining to me. It's very "Potterheads, grab your wands!" ("Supernatural fans, grab your wayward sons?" ) As someone who's also been on the other end of genuinely vicious hateful bigoted threatening dogpiles, this is really nothing so far. It's a bunch of people with ''221BintheTardiswithCastiel" URLS bopping me on the head with an empty cardboard paper towel roll for daring to Remember the Fifth of November as I actually experienced it XD.

#thank you for the ask!!! #I have been getting lots of silly people calling me goofy names so it is nice to get this message #also sorry to the anons writing very long essays about the importance of supernatural and sending them to my askbox #im not gonna post em. alas. thanks for the effort though #i Remember the Fifth Of November #and you cannot rewrite my memories #some people have been explaining superwholock to me in my askbox as if I was Not There #dude...there was a whole week when I believed the Johnlock Conspiracy #anyway #that's life! #XD

[judjira]

solitude (no more)

AN: in response to those who asked for a misamo drabble for apartment au ! these three are very soft-angsty, very hurt/comfort with each other. this particular drabble is sana-centered, but i'd be willing to write one that is either momo or mina centered if u guys request for it !

pairing: misamo

apartment au

wc: 1202

A soft aria wafted through the air. Quiet, calm, melancholic.

Songs were sung for many reasons. Celebration, merriment, heartbreak, worship, and many others. The multitude of reasons as to why creatures gave their voices tune and rhythm were uncountable, but all for a good reason.

This song, however, was one of solitude.

It spoke of loneliness, the feeling of seclusion, away from the world and its pleasures as well as its pains. A feeling not quite placed in a land of people and beings alike that were of community and friendship.

It resonated, traveling through the walls of its origin, into the streets around, where all who heard it were weighed down with thoughts of terrible solitude.

But the creature who sang it felt this solitude to the core.

In front of a dresser, sat a pale lady, still dressed in fine clothing, velvetine crimson and blacks blending together in a gothic, dreadful, yet beautiful gown.

She brushed her hair, blonde and silky as it was, staring into the reflection of the mirror.

A reflection that showed nothing in return.

She continued to sing, no words or phrases, just a tune that pierced one to their heart, inflicting them with a deep sense of longing for companionship.

Until a hand placed itself on her shoulder.

In the mirror, this hand hovered over nothing. But in reality, it clenched at the fabric of her gown, yearning so evident.

“Sana.”

The other woman stood, nothing but a sleeveless grey tanktop and shorts, raven hair shaggy and tousled, covering the upper half of her face. But through her bangs, piercing yet warm yellow eyes stared through.

“Lady Hirai. Good…good evening.”

Sana’s voice was soft, barely heard, as she lowered the brush onto the table. Her eyes flickered up from her non-existent form in the mirror, to the werewolf’s own eyes.

Momo said nothing, only clenching Sana’s shoulder a little bit tighter.

“Was my…was my singing bothering you? I shall…endeavor to keep it down.”

There were nights like these, sometimes, when Sana wasn’t required at the midnight lounge she worked in, and so stayed at home for the night.

“Did I…wake anyone? Is our Lady still—”

“Dahyun’s still sleeping. It’s just me."

Sana sighed in relief. She’d already burdened the Lady with too much of her troubles. If she were to interrupt her slumber, Sana might as well have left.

“Sana…”

Momo’s eyes were sad. They always were, when it came to Sana. Because she knew. She understood.

“I apologize, Lady Hirai. I didn’t mean to…to bother you.”

“I was already awake. You weren’t…no, you weren’t bothering me.”

Momo struggled to put her thoughts into words. It was obvious, and everyone knew she preferred to stay as a wolf to avoid unneeded conversation.

But when it came to those that she loved, she always did her best.

“You…you seemed sad.”

Sana was quiet. For a moment.

Sometimes, it was hard for her to believe she was here. With others like her, who had gone through the same, or similar, things. Creatures and beings who could relate to her, share in her pain, and make her feel less alone.

She felt she didn’t deserve it.

“…I am.”

But she’d come a long way from that lonely vampire that never stayed in one place for too long, never formed connections, out of fear of hurting others and being hurt.

Now, she knew how to trust.

“Do you want to…to talk about it?”

Sana smiled ruefully, up at Momo.

“I appreciate the gesture, Lady Hirai. But I think we both know that you would not be comfortable…engaging in conversation.”

Momo shifted from one foot to the other, looking at the ground.

“I know. That’s okay. You’re sad.”

Against her own will, Sana’s heart trembled with feeling, bursting forth at the gesture.

“Thank you,” she whispered, “Truly. Your company is enough, Lady Hirai.”

Sana hesitated, before her hand came up to Momo’s fingers on her shoulder, slowly interlacing them together. A small smile found its way to Momo’s lips, canines poking out from her mouth.

They stayed like that for a moment, before a gust of cold wind blew through, even though the windows were closed.

“Good evening.”

A bare whisper of a voice wafted through the air, as both vampire and werewolf were drawn to look at the mirror.

Floating opposite Momo, on Sana’s right side, was a pale, translucent figure in the mirror.

A long white gown, dried blood staining the edges, and long black hair, drifting, and giving form to some ethereal beauty.

“Lady Myoui.” Sana swallowed.

Momo said nothing, opting to smile at the figure in the mirror, even though no one really occupied the space next to her.

“Would it be inconvenient if I were to keep you company, Lady Sana, Lady Momo?”

Even though Momo shook her head immediately, Sana remained silent, before speaking up, haltingly.

“I fear…I may only sour your mood, Lady Myoui.”

A ghostly hand reached down to hold Sana’s. And unlike the other inhabitants of the apartment, who were all living and breathing creatures and entities, it was only Sana who could feel her touch as corporeal as human flesh.

“My love, you would only sour my mood if you were to keep me from being with you.”

Mina’s confession almost brought Sana to tears.

How could she show this much fervor, this much passion, this much adoration, when Sana was nothing but an undead creature, cursed to hurt those she loved?

“You speak too fondly of me, Lady Myoui.”

Mina could only smile.

“I only speak of that which I know to be true.”

Momo’s hand, still in Sana’s, squeezed, and as the vampire looked up at her, eyes full of warmth and passion stared back at her.

Sana bowed her head in resignation.

“…then if that is how you…both of you…would like to occupy your evening, I shall not protest.”

The sound of shifting skin, cracking bones, and tearing flesh resounded from next to her, and in the following moment, a large, black-furred wolf stood next to her.

Sana could not help but comment.

“Do refrain from getting fur on the floor. Our Lady will complain again.”

The wolf could do nothing but roll her eyes at Sana’s resounding chuckle, tuck her paws back, lay down on the floor, and perch her head on Sana’s lap, where Sana’s hand immediately came up to stroke behind her ears.

Mina, in view of the reflection, drifted behind Sana, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and closing her head in to lean on her.

“You are not alone, my love. And you never will be. Not anymore.”

Momo could only snort through her nostrils in agreement.

The vampire could only exhale slowly.

“Thank you, Lady Hirai, Lady Myoui. I…I confess my deep adoration for you both.”

A soft, whisper of a ghost’s chuckle echoed through her ears, as the soft rumbling of a wolf’s breath tingled through her body.

And there, in that quiet night like so many before, Sana pushed down her fears, her anxieties, her worries, and chose to bask instead in the adoration, the passion, and the love that the two beings next to her shared for her.

#apartment au #misamo #mina x sana x momo #twice fic #twice fanfic

[minttealoverrrr]

The Barbie Movie and Chris McCandless

The Barbie Movie and Chris McCandless

*Note: In reference to Into The Wild, I reference the story and Chris McCanless with the reverence of a fictional character, simply living in the story and that is all. Chris, the character in a book. I have nothing but deep respect for Chris, the real man, and his loved ones. 

      I don’t know anyone who didn’t love the Barbie movie. Every woman in my life (not including my mother) raved about it. Teachers, friends, vague acquaintances I follow on instagram. How much it made them cry, how accurate, how personal, how totally and utterly perfect the movie was. I had high hopes going in, fully dressed in all the pink I could scrounge out of my closet. Expecting to watch a movie that would make me cry, sob, feel seen and feel understood- I left the theater feeling… none of those things. If anything, I was a little discontented and I needed to pee. On the way back home, me and my mother tried to decipher why exactly we both failed to experience the same world-altering-life-changing-film experience we heard our peers sing praises for. 

      The book Into The Wild by Jon Krakauer was a part of my AP Lang classes required reading this year.  A nonfiction recollection of the life and death of Chris McCandless. McCandless grew up in Annandale, Virginia where his father worked as an antenna specialist for NASA. After graduating from Emory University he donated all his money and decided to become a traveler/hermit/hitchhiker of sorts- rejecting worldly things like money, objects, deep connections with others, and any contact with his family. On one of his stints, McCandless travels through Rural Alaska for months and dies after running out of food and consuming a poisonous plant. This is an arguably reductive summary, you can find the full wikipedia pages for the book and Chris’s story here and here. Throughout reading this book, my class had several discussions about McCandless and the book Into The Wild. What could have driven McCandless to do what he did? Did he have a death wish, going into the Alaskan wilderness with no survival training and knowledge, frighteningly low amounts of food, and no gear? Were his actions justified? Do we relate to his decisions, his actions? Some people argue McCandless was simply a free spirit, that his rejections of the material in favor for the individual and intangible were ones we should strive for. Others are confused with his choice to totally desert his family, to the point where McCandless’s mother sent a private investigator to look for her son upon his supposed disappearance. Some felt he was sort of naive or unintelligent, going into the woods in the dead of winter utterly unprepared. While my peers gingerly gave their takes on their sympathies and gripes with McCandlesses story and McCandless himself I found myself feeling a similar feeling from earlier that summer. A sort of wall, a barrier. I found myself fully unable to sympathize with McCandless, totally and utterly. 

    Why? What is it about McCandlesses story that makes it so difficult for me to resonate with? The answer here is, at its core, the same reason I found myself discontented with the Barbie movie. With regards to McCandless, a few notes are vital. Chris McCandless was white, very upper-middle class, immensely privileged and fourtenate, wealthy, and educated. Still, he rejected all his fortune and privilege for a life in the woods. Rejecting his family, loved ones, friends, and anyone who cared for him. As someone who has very different values (developed through my identity in a Pakistani and Muslim home/ as a Pakistani Muslim person) , herein lies my hangup. I find it nearly impossible to understand or sympathize with someone so steeped in privilege, only to pretend it doesn’t exist. His rejection of family, immense wealth, and deep privilege in nearly all aspects of life. Now, that is by no means Chris’s fault- failing to acknowledge or understand his privilege and its complexities. He was 20 something in the 90’s and read Tolstoy in the woods! I don’t expect him to know the first thing about race or privilege. But there are some things that irrevocably make it difficult for me to truly, really truly, sympathize with his story. Someone a few prongs up on the privilege ladder might take more of his story to heart, understand it more, be able to see his story for just and only that, his story. I am in a position to see the bigger picture, this story I’m the context of larger things. I am unable to sympathize with his story due to factors outside of both of our control. This doesn’t mean either of us are at fault, and it doesn't mean I should be expected to change how I feel to suit his story. I have no inclination to change how I feel about McCandlesses story or his choices.  Some might argue I should get a heart and try to understand what he went through. And I’m not saying I feel gleeful or joyous at his demise, not in the slightest. It is just that I, as someone a few prongs lower on the privilege ladder, shouldn’t be expected to be more sympathetic to someone who’s values and choices are both a) only able to of happened as a result of his privilege and b) miles away from what I value as important in this life. 

Back to Barbie. Barbie is not the story of womanhood. It does not encapsulate what it means to be a woman. It may encapsulate what it means to be a white woman, but not a woman. Barbie treats whiteness as the default. A white woman is a woman and that is all, a brown woman is a woman and she is brown- a woman and then some. It's not anyone’s fault that I failed to understand Barbie.  But Barbie tells the story of a white woman, which is different from a brown woman- not a basis for all womanhood. White womanhood is not the default, despite it being treated as such within the film. This innate feature, (unintentionally) driven to the core of the story, keeps me from understanding. And I should not be expected to look past my brownness, remove it from myself (or all the other things that make my girl-ness different from Barbie) to placate some sort of understanding- because all the things that make me myself are inseparable from each other, you cannot separate me from myself like a heterogenous mixture of traits, concepts, identities, and ideas. In the case of Barbie and McCanless, I find myself unable to truly understand their stories thanks to innate and unchanging factors on both sides- at the fault of neither.

#essay #personal essay #barbie #barbie movie #greta gerwig #margot robbie #chris mccandless #into the wild #reading #first post #firstessay #idk what im doin lol #workingonwritingskillsstill #still practicing #getting better #constructive critism welcome #pakistan #muslim #womanhood