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This is my Tik Tok and this Blog is for my Tik Tok content. I will be posting storyline ideas, cosplay and cosplans here. I will be taking request and answering any questions on my stories.
All the characters and cannon stories belong to the rightful owners, I will be putting my own adaptation and look into their stories. Most of my cosplays will be of my own OCs.
he's got a habit of coming in through the window. you want him to start staying... and using the door. (angst, fluff, pining, injured jason, tending to wounds, feelings).
✩ sunset anew. ─ dick grayson x fem!reader
you're a little nervous to become the mrs. grayson. luckily, your husband-to-be knows just what to say to soothe your worries. (wedding, fluff, anxious reader, insecure dick, so much soft intimacy)
✩ the teeth you know. ─ vampire king!dick grayson x fem!reader
the war between the humans and the vampires has lasted for a year now. when you fled gotham, you thought that would be the last time you'd see the vampire king and the love of your life, dick grayson. you were wrong. (SMUT 18+ only, manipulative dick, dreams, oral f receiving)
✩ savior. ─ jason todd x gn!reader
red hood is the stuff of nightmares. red hood is no hero. red hood is your best friend. (angst, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.)
✩ in your hands. ─ jason todd x gn!reader
jason thinks he's too big to be loved. you show him that that's impossible. (bathing together, sad jason, brief dissociation, i hc jason to have body dysmorphia and i wanted to explore that, non sexual nudity, washing your partner, bruce angst, hopeful ending.)
✩ restroom attendant. ─ jason todd x fem!reader
tonight is the worst night ever—you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. that is, until, the red hood bursts in. this city just won't cut you a break. (humor, flirting, meet ugly, awkward cute jason, canon typical violence)
☆ angel of small death. — jason todd x gn!shadow monster!reader
you can't remember what it was like to be human. until jason returns. now, he's the only thing tethering you to this world. and you won't let anything happen to him. (monster!reader, canon-typical violence, codependency, stalking, suicidal thoughts, somewhat happy ending.)
☆ crushin'. — jason todd x gn!reader
barbara invites you to dinner with the bats. she's done so before, and you've always declined, but this time, you agree because the bat you've had a crush on for ages will be there. little do you know, the only reason he's staying for dinner is because of you. (mutual pining, crushes, jason is a sweetie, matchmaking, dick is a meddling brother with good intentions)
☆ most normal thing in the world. — jason todd x gn!reader
you get hit with a love spell. naturally, the first person you seek out is jason todd. (love spell, mutual pining, love confessions, jason todd's endless self deprecation)
☆ in the buff. — jason todd x gn!reader
the one where you learn firsthand that jason todd sleeps in the nude. (fluff, humor, love confessions, friends to lovers, nudity)
☆ knight in shining helmet. — jason todd x fem!princess!reader
you're a princess who's visiting gotham. you weren't loving it to begin with—then you of course had to get kidnapped. you're hoping that you'll be rescued by the famous batman. instead, it's the infamous red hood that finds you. (kidnapping, meet ugly, strangers to something more, soft jason, roman holiday vibes).
☆ holiday spirit. — jason todd x fem!reader
stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on christmas eve eve, you’re at your wit’s end. the last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the red hood. (office shenanigans, holiday special, undercover, fake relationship, silliness, anxious reader, sweetheart awkward jason).
◇ knight!jason universe - in which you're given to knight!jason as a present (light dubcon elements)
intro post | you make dinner for jason
-> temptation (smut 18+, dubcon voyeurism, religious guilt read the tags!!)
-> a bloody vow (violence, eroticism, part 2 of temptation)
BLURBS.
ALL READERS ARE GN UNLESS NOTED OTHERWISE
-> DICK GRAYSON.
"this is real. i'm real. look at me."
"can you walk? i need you to walk."
dick catches you when you trip and fall
"you matter so much to me."
you meet the yj team for the first time and have a panic attack
dick cuddles you after he returns late from patrol
you try to break up with dick when your insecurities overwhelm you
dick and assistant!reader who has a secret nightlife
-> JASON TODD.
"i thought you were scared of heights."
reader calls jason in panic when they are chased by a goon
"you're just going to leave me here?!"
awkward jason with a big crush on baker!reader
you break up with jason after he almost dies | part 2 (completed)
playfighting with jason turns into something else (NSFW, fem!reader)
jason rescues you after you have a fight (fem!reader)
jason asks his family to help after you, his fiance, are kidnapped
you forget to text jason you're home safe and he panics
you comfort werewolf!jason during a shift
you are jason's ex and have to work with him on a mission
headless horseman!jason gives you a ride home
"why not them, why me?"
you find a werewolf in your shed who has a dead boy's face
you and jason fight and he thinks you broke up
devoted jason who just wants to be yours
jason tells you that he's asexual
you give bodyguard!jason a gift | you defend him at a gala
you're a vigilante who's after the red hood | pt 2 | pt 3
fussing over jason after he's shot in his bulletproof vest
boxer!jason protects you from a creep
you're a reporter who's under red hood's protection | part 2 | part 3
a stranger thinks you're in danger with your boyfriend, jason
introducing naps to jason (hc)
you bring home a baby and insist on keeping her
jason loves his childhood crush's new curves, make no mistake
jason takes care of you when you're high on pain meds
you meet jason as a civilian when you're both held hostage
virgin!jason comes fast (hc)
jason will keep you safe by any means necessary (dark content)
mauling jason (in a sexy way)
your bff is back and insists she's not the girl you knew (female!jason)
jason gets glasses and you go feral
-> TIM DRAKE.
you and jason go through your wedding gifts
ak!female!jason keeps leaving you presents
you have insomnia and run into tim in the yj tower
-> CLARK KENT.
holding hands while walking with clark
giving clark a massage when he's stressed
clark is scared when he finds out he's going to be a dad
you politely reject superman (you're dating clark kent!)
Summary: Stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on Christmas Eve Eve, you’re at your wit’s end. The last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the Red Hood.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader
Word count: 7.2k
Warnings/tags: panic attacks, reader has anxiety, creepy coworkers, office party shenanigans, canon-typical violence, jason being both a menace and a sweetheart, attempts at humor, fake relationship, silliness!
the divider
You’re grateful for a reason to escape. Someone announces that the lights on the obnoxious eleven-foot Christmas tree are burned out and you’re already on the elevator, volunteering to find spare lights.
You hate these office parties. They’re just a way to play politics, show off fiancés, and reaffirm cliques. You wanted to skip it all together. But Mr. Emerson, your boss, had insisted that attending tonight’s party was mandatory.
Alma had told you about a hundred times to skip tonight, but Alma’s worked here since the Reagan administration and has too much pull to be fired. You, conversely, have been here eight months, and if you get fired, your next job is going to be as a henchman for a B-list Gotham villain.
Being painfully ordinary and anxious is a toxic mix. Your doctor still thinks all your worrying is because of your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t believe in work-related stress.
So anyway. You’re just trying to get through tonight. And find some tree lights that work.
You unlock the spare office where all the holiday junk is stored and turn on the light.
The motherfucking Red Hood looks at you, one leg dangling outside of the window and one leg inside the office. He unclicks his harness.
"Oh my God,” you say, hand frozen on the light switch.
Red Hood pulls his leg in from the window and steps into the office. He puts the harness in a duffel bag and roughly zips it, then tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor.
"Oh my God.”
He glances at you, helmet eyes glowing. "No God here, just me.”
"Oh my God," you say again, near hysterics. "Oh my God, Red Hood."
"Always nice to meet a fan," he says irritably, brushing snow off of his jacket, flashing his holsters. Oh, fuck. That's a lot of guns.
"What, um—" You close your eyes, lick your lips, try to find your sanity. "To what do I—why—are you gonna kill me?”
"The fuck? You think I'd sneak into an office and kill someone in cold blood? What kinda operation you think I'm running?"
Your mouth opens and closes in horror. "Wh–I... I don't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Hood."
"Please, Mr. Hood was my father."
He laughs. You taste bile in your throat.
Hood sobers. "Damn. Tough crowd. Look, sorry to freak you out, but I got shit to do. If you'll just point me to Hershel Emerson's office, I'll be on my merry way."
"That's m-my boss. Are you gonna kill him?" You can’t handle murder tonight. You’ll have a breakdown for sure.
"Literally, what did I just say?" Hood throws his hands up. "Not one minute ago. I'm not killing anyone!"
"Yet?" you ask weakly, mind inundated with too many mob movies to watch your manners. You know what the Red Hood is all about. Everyone does.
"No. I'm not killing Emerson. But he is a bad dude, so I gotta take care of business. Actually, I should kill him. He deserves it."
You squeak in horror. He raises a hand.
"But I'm not!" he says gruffly. "Respectfully, get a grip. You live in Gotham."
You swallow. "What're you gonna do to my boss if not kill him?"
Hood shrugs. "Eh, maybe scare him a bit. Mostly get intel to take him down. He's currently sitting on five million dollars of stolen life savings from clients."
You blink. "What?"
"Yup. What I really wanna know is which of his employees are in on it. He didn't do this alone."
Hood takes out a small roll-up pouch of what looks like lockpicking tools. You release your sweaty death grip on the doorknob, causing it to squeak. Hood doesn't look up.
five million dollars is ringing in your head. That happened here. Where you work. Your boss is even scummier than you thought.
“Is that a lockpicking kit?” you ask.
“Yup. Good eye.”
"This seems... illegal.”
"Well, I won't lie to you, most of what I do is. You won't be implicated though.”
He looks at you. You flinch. Even with the lights on, the Red Hood is scary as shit.
"Yeah..." he says, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t do well in prison. I can tell."
Your chest hurts. "I don't think anyone does well in prison," you say, eyebrows scrunching. "Have... you been to prison?"
"Only to break out a friend. You ask a lot of questions."
"Sorry. Um, Mr. Red Hood—"
"Ah-ah. Call me Red. Or Hood. No Mister-ing."
"Okay.” You lick your lips, hoping he doesn't go back on his temporary no-kill policy. “Hood, do you think you could come later? After the Christmas party?”
He tilts his head at you. You keep talking.
“Not that I don't admire what you're doing! Because I think taking down my boss for stealing money is great, eat the rich and all that, but, um, I came up here to get lights to replace the ones that burned out downstairs because that's a normal thing that happens and now you're here, at my job, and I'm freaking out. Oh God, oh my God—”
You grab the wall for stability, feeling like you've been rocking on a boat for hours. Sweat beads on your forehead. This time, you really do feel like you’ll throw up. Throwing up in front of the Red Hood would be humiliating.
“Look, I got shit to do, okay? I'm sorry you're freaking out but your boss is gonna cash out in a few days and then I lose him and that five million. It's now or never."
You should've just stayed home and baked cookies. Fuck being social! This is what happens when you're social: you meet morally gray vigilantes who force you to be complicit with their crimes.
Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying? Maybe it’s sweat.
Hood points to the hallway. "Is there a camera outside?"
"Y-yeah.” Your voice is weak. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you call security on your way out?"
“Does your left arm hurt?”
“No, but—”
“Are your limbs stiffening?”
“No, but—”
“You’re not having a heart attack. Your speech is fine.”
Hood takes out a few more things from the duffel, then kicks it under a desk with his foot. You wheeze and grab onto the doorknob again.
It’s quiet for a second. Then—
“Shit. You're having a panic attack,” Hood says.
"Mm, probably," you say, hunched over like an armadillo. Fuck your stupid doctor.
There's silence as you wheeze quietly. Then something small hits your head. You flinch and squeal.
"You don't need to throw things at me!" you say, beyond defeated, near tears.
"No, I wasn't—sorry. It's a Warhead. I have one when I'm feeling… not my best. They're s’posed to help occupy your other senses so the panic disappears."
You stare at the candy, confused and suspicious at once. "Is it spiked?"
"Again, what sorta operation do you think I'm running? It's not drugs. Look." Hood unwraps a Warhead and sticks it in his mouth underneath his helmet. You hear him suck on it. "Eesh, that's sour. Okay? No drugs."
So you take the candy from the floor, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. The sour taste immediately overwhelms you. It's like your brain resets. You pant through the sour.
"Ough," you say, face scrunching from the taste.
"Yeah, right? Life changing hack."
You suck on the candy desperately and close your eyes, trying to find your breath.
“It’s okay,” Hood says, stilted and awkward. “Just, uh, focus on your breathing. Exhale longer than you inhale. Breathe through your nose.”
It takes another few minutes, but the feeling passes. Your chest lightens. It’s the quickest you’ve ever recovered from a panic attack.
“I was just kidding about the prison thing,” Hood says. “You’re not gonna go to jail ‘cause of this, I promise.”
Yeah, but what if you lose your job?
You spit the Warhead into a trash can and smack your tongue a bit. “Are you sure you can’t come back tomorrow night?”
“No can do,” Hood says. “Your boss will be gone by then.”
“It's just that I'm really bad with keeping secrets and according to Google, that's how ulcers form and I really can't afford any sick days off, so—"
You yelp as the door suddenly swings open, hitting your shoulder. You spin around.
"Hey," Bill says, squinting at you. "Where have you been?”
"No!" you yell, and turn off the light.
Bill stares at you, illuminated by the hallway light. “Uh…”
You clear your throat. "Ahem. I'm fine. It's just taking me a moment to sift through all these decorations. Please return to the party.”
You hate Bill. He’s a sleaze and doesn’t do any work. More than once, he’s trapped you by the water cooler in a conversation about his “smokin’” imaginary lawyer girlfriend.
“If you wanted me to come help you, you could've just said so," he says, reaching for the light, way too close. You don’t like his tone either.
"No!" you yell, blocking the light switch with your hands.
"What the hell? Why not?"
"Because—"
There's a creak from the back. You wince.
Bill immediately whips his head toward the sound. "Is someone here? Hello?"
He reaches for the light. Again, you block him, swatting his hands away.
"Would you stop—is someone here?"
"My boyfriend!" you blurt.
Bill stops, looking at you. "Your boyfriend? You've never mentioned a boyfriend."
"Well, I have one and he's here."
"Okay. Why can't I turn on the light and see him?"
"Because he's... um..."
You spot the red Santa suit out of the corner of your eye.
Oh, this is a terrible idea.
"He's changing! He's our Santa for the party. Surprise!" You make weak jazz hands.
Bill looks into the dark where you're pretty sure Hood is hiding. You hope, anyway. Otherwise Bill is going to tell everyone that you're making up boyfriends. "Really?"
"Yeah, really," comes Hood's unmodulated, deadpan reply, and you jump. "Don't turn on the light. I'm naked."
"Oh..." Bill looks queasy for a moment. "Uh—" He looks at you and suddenly grins. "Oh, I get it. You two were having fun before going to the party, huh? Didn't know you were such a wildcat."
"That’s disgusting,” you say. “I would never do that in the office.”
Bill wiggles his eyebrows. "Me-ow. Does the Santa thing turn you on?"
"I'm right here, Bill, and naked or not, I'll kick your ass," Hood says.
Bill pales and quickly backs out of the room. "Right. Sorry. Uh, carry on."
He closes the door. You push your back against it and exhale, heart racing.
"Bill is a shithead," Hood says.
“How… do you know his name?”
“Employee background check,” Hood says mildly.
"Oh… yeah, he's been written up a bunch of times for inappropriate behavior, but he's close with Emerson, so he never gets fired."
"Want me to kill him for you? Free of charge."
"What? No! Hood—"
"Oh, relax. I was kidding."
"Uh-huh." You turn on the light. Hood has his helmet on, and his voice is modulated again. "What're we gonna do?"
"Well, I'm gonna go make sure Hershel doesn’t fuck off to Bermuda. The lights you wanted are here, by the way."
Hood tosses you a box of multi-colored tree lights. Then he walks toward you. You plaster yourself across the door.
"Wait! You can't leave. I said that my boyfriend is going to be Santa. Bill will tell everyone. They’ll expect you.”
"I appreciate your quick thinking, but that's a hard pass,” Hood says.
"You can't leave now! Bill's gonna tell everyone I'm a liar and they'll think I was up to something worse in here, like snorting coke."
"I mean this gently: I think you should look into anti-anxiety meds. My brother swears by Xanax.”
“My doctor won’t prescribe it to me,” you say glumly. “He thinks my anxiety is made up.”
“Huh. Want me to kill him? I know a better doctor.”
"Well…” You hesitate, then shake your head. “No! No. Hood, please. They’re all gonna expect a Santa. And when I don’t show up with Santa, they’ll remember that I didn’t participate in White Elephant or any of that other office nonsense that I don’t want to waste my money on. I need this job!”
“They’re not gonna fire you for not doing White Elephant,” Hood says.
“You don’t know them! It’s a popularity contest.”
But Hood is indeed disinterested in the fact that you'll be the office pariah. Probably because he’s never worked in an office.
Instead, he ushers you aside without a struggle. Then he turns the doorknob.
"Wait! Wait, listen. If you dress as Santa, you'll have access to the party and offices. You won't have to sneak around. And people get really drunk at these. They'll talk. You can figure out who's helping Emerson steal money."
His hand pauses. He looks at you. You look back, wringing your hands.
"You're pretty crafty," he says.
"...Thanks?”
Hood releases the doorknob. "Alright, fine. I'll do the Santa shtick.”
“You will?”
He tilts his head. “Should I not?”
“No! No, you should. It’ll be a good disguise.”
He hums. “Sure. But we're in this together now, got it? You blow my cover and we both go down."
"Y-yeah, got it."
Hood heaves a gusty sigh. "Next time, I'm sending Roy in to do this shit."
"Who's Roy?"
"Ah." He holds up a finger. "Too many questions."
He makes a beeline for the Santa costume and then looks at you expectantly.
"Yo. Boyfriend or not, you're not watching me change. Guard the door, Mrs. Claus."
"Oh, right. Sorry."
You turn off the light and go into the hall, shutting the door behind you. It's empty, luckily. You rap your fingers on the box of lights, leg jiggling.
This is insane. You should just tell Hood you can't do this and let him figure out his own plan.
But then... this would make it easier to find Emerson's crime partner. And you're really sick of Bill being a jerk. You don’t want to be called a liar, or get iced out for the rest of your time here because you didn’t bring Santa. Maybe having Hood be your Santa-boyfriend would make people leave you alone. Which is a crazy reason to stick to this plan, but still. You're trying to find the bright side.
And all those people that Emerson stole from... surely, you have a responsibility to help get their money back and bring him to justice, don't you?
The door swings open. You turn around.
“You wear a mask under your helmet?”
“As a precaution.” He sounds defensive. “Lots of people in my profession do it.”
You doubt that. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird if Santa has a mask on?”
He hesitates, evidently debating between protecting his identity and arousing suspicion.
“Fine.” He carefully peels off the mask and tucks it into his pocket. The surrounding skin is slightly pink from irritation. His nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles.
And wow. The Red Hood has beautiful eyes. So vibrant and clear, like seafoam. And young! How old is he, anyway? He doesn’t look much older than you, if at all.
His eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and it makes sense, Hood being a brunet.
“What?” he snaps, glaring.
“Nice eyes,” you blurt.
His brows furrow. You remember the guns.
“Um, anyway. Should we go?” you squeak out, backing away.
Hood huffs through the beard. It flutters. "We need to have some ground rules."
"Okay."
"First, you should know that I will shoot if there's a physical threat at this party. Two, you're gonna call me Todd at the party. Three, if you try to tell anyone that I'm Red Hood or that I'm taking down Emerson, I will make your life hell. And if you're his partner, you'd better tell me now or I'm gonna be a lot less jolly."
"I'm not!" you say. "I would never do that. And I won't tell anyone you're Red Hood."
"Good. Let's go. Keep your ears open for hints about Emerson's partner."
He takes off in long strides. You hurry to keep up. The Santa costume doesn't slow him down.
"So how did you find out that Emerson's stealing?" you ask.
"Got a tip. You really didn't know he was stealing?"
“I don’t have access to the finances. I work in user interface. Website design.”
"Yeah? That's pretty cool. I got a brother who's into that stuff," Hood says.
"The same one who takes Xanax?”
“Would you believe it?”
You try to picture Red Hood with a regular family. With a brother or a sister or a father. It's hard to imagine.
“How come you don’t take anti-anxiety medication?” you ask.
“I have Pit Madness Syndrome, and it has a weird chemical reaction with that stuff.”
“Oh.” Subject change. Quickly! "Do you celebrate Christmas?"
"Not really. I'm not a believer or celebrator of much. You can see what my plans are two days before Christmas."
"Your family doesn't celebrate?"
Hood just grunts, eyes suddenly stormy. You take the hint and stop talking.
The room where the party is isn't particularly special. It's big enough to fit about a hundred people. For all the money the company makes, you'd thought that they could afford to splurge a little and rent an actual hall. Now you know what the profits have been going toward. But the decorations are decently lavish.
"Oh, wait." Hood leans in to speak in your ear. Lightning shoots down your spine. "I don't know your name."
You give it. He repeats it, and you shiver, like your boyfriend just said your name.
"'Kay. Stay in this room. We don't know how much Emerson or his partner knows, but assume they’re willing to do anything to get away with the money."
You nod. “Got it.”
“Hey, it’s Santa!” Bill shouts from across the room. “He made it!”
You smile tightly. “As promised.”
A few people wave. Others cheer.
“These people really like Christmas, huh?” Hood asks.
“You have no idea,” you say, hyperaware of his hand brushing your back.
“Don’t think I got your name, man,” Bill says as he approaches. He sticks a hand out. “Bill.”
“Todd,” Hood says, taking his hand and shaking. Bill winces at the handshake. You hide a smile.
“Ah, Todd. Right.” Bill looks at you, trying to subtly soothe his hand. “You’ve never mentioned him.”
You shrug. “Never came up.”
“I’m pretty private,” Hood says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “But we’re very much in love. Ain’t that right, baby?”
“Th-that’s right… honey,” you say, face going hot.
“So what do you do for work?” Bill asks. “My girlfriend’s a lawyer.”
You roll your eyes. Hood snorts.
“There’s no way you’re dating anyone. You look like you got dressed in the dark, Billy.”
You cough your laugh into your arm. Bill’s eye twitches.
“Enjoy the party,” he says icily. He glares at you, then stomps away.
“That was amazing, but I think Bill might retaliate,” you say.
“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Hood says. “I’ll take care of it.”
You look at him with big eyes. “Hood—”
“Not like that. Just… it’ll be handled. Okay?”
You nod. Maybe it’s insane, but you trust him. “Okay. Want some punch?”
Hood hums. “No alcohol. Thanks.”
You go to the punch bowl, a little relieved to escape Hood’s piercing ocean-eyed stare. He’s intense. Whoever dates him for real is in for a ride.
Then again, you can’t imagine Hood meeting someone for coffee or dinner. You giggle at the image of him showing up with his guns and helmet.
“Hey, IT.” A woman in a white sweater you’ve seen maybe once waves at you. “Cool idea, bringing a Santa.”
“Yeah, Emerson’s too cheap to,” the man next to her says. They laugh.
You smile. “Glad you like it.”
You serve yourself two cups of the alcohol-free punch. Then you turn.
Your smile falls. Across the room is Hood and Tanya Donaldson, resident shit-stirrer. She’s trying to cozy up to him. You sigh and walk over, bracing yourself.
“Hey, baby,” Hood says, practically dragging you into his side. He takes a cup of punch. “Just met Tanya.”
You can guess exactly how he feels about that.
"Oh, is he your boyfriend?" Tanya asks, eyeing Hood like he's a slab of steak. “I had no idea!”
"Uh-huh," you say. "This is Todd."
She wiggles her fingers, grinning. “So how often do you go to the gym, Todd?” She rests a hand on Hood's arm. "I didn't know Santa was so big and broad."
Your gaze drifts to where you're pretty sure Hood has a gun strapped to his ankle, and the temptation does appear, you won't deny.
But you need this job and it's going to be really hard to explain why Santa's armed and dangerous, so you just grit your teeth. Tanya's the worst for this kind of behavior and she doesn't respect you, so bringing your hunky boyfriend is like dangling a bunch of carrots in her face.
And it’s not like Todd is actually your boyfriend.
"Are you flirting with me in front of my girlfriend?" Hood asks, prying her hand off of his arm.
"Flirting?" She claps a hand over her mouth, the movement slightly delayed from all the wine. "No, oh my God! I was just saying—"
"That's really pathetic," Hood says. "Don't do that."
He walks away and you follow, leaving a wobbly Tanya on her own. You smile to yourself.
"Thank you for that," you say.
Hood gives you a thumbs up. "I can plant evidence on her and get her fired if you want."
"No, I don't want to feel damned for eternity. Thanks anyway."
"You have a lot of assholes at your job," Hood says. "But you're not one. I admire that.”
You sigh. "They're not all bad. Alma is cool. She keeps me from quitting.”
"And where is she?"
"At home. She's a sixty-two year old accountant who doesn't care about these parties. Her hip aches when it's cold."
"Mm. Maybe you should follow her lead," Hood says.
"But then who would help you with your spycraft, Hood?"
He allows himself a tiny laugh at that. You wonder how often he laughs. If ever.
“Well, suffering Tanya wasn’t in vain. She said this whole party cost twenty grand.”
“So?”
He gestures grandly. “Does this look like it cost twenty grand to put this together?”
It's true. The alcohol is the most expensive thing here. No food, except for some people that participated in the potluck, but you don't trust anybody's food here. The decorations are old. Not to mention the Red Hood as your Santa. Your boss might have spared a thousand for tonight. No more.
“So where did all that money go?” you ask.
Hood snaps his fingers. “Bingo.”
“That is so shitty. I got a chocolate-covered pretzel as my Christmas bonus,” you say.
“A bag of ‘em?” He shakes his head. “Pretty cheap.”
“Ha, no. No, I got one big pretzel. In a box. The box cost more than the pretzel, I think.”
His eyes widen. “Jesus. Even I give more than that to my guys.”
“Got any openings?” you ask, half-joking.
Hood snorts. “Don't think you'd like what we do. Why d’you stay?”
You shrug. “Nowhere else to go. I have to eat somehow.”
“Crappy boss, crappy coworkers, no Christmas bonus. Hell, I feel sorry for ya.”
The Red Hood feels sorry for you. Perhaps you've reached a new low.
He drinks the punch and coughs. “Ahem, wow. Did you make the punch?”
“No, some people mixed it here.”
“Oh, then I'll be honest. Tastes like a flavor that's not found in nature.” He throws his cup away. You trust him and set your still-full cup on a table.
“I won't even mention the potluck,” you say.
“Yeesh. Can't eat at everyone's house.”
“That's what I say!”
He winks at you. You look away, flustered.
The crazy thing is, you could get used to this. Well, not specifically Red Hood, but having a boyfriend to bring to these functions, who’ll warn you against gross punch and defend you against Tanya.
And Hood is surprisingly good at this. If you forget the past hour, you can almost pretend that this is just another office party that you happen to be spending with your new boyfriend.
"Hey, look! It's Santa! Dude, check me out with Santa!"
One of the finance guys who's very drunk—you want to say that his name is Matt—bounds up to you and Hood. Hood tenses, reaching for his hip (gun!) and you touch his elbow, reminding him to relax. He drops his arm.
Matt reeks of alcohol, the front of his shirt stained with bourbon. He laughs, forehead shiny with sweat.
"Santaaa, hey, Saint Nick, take a pic with me, man!"
Matt throws his arms around Hood. Hood does not like that and shoves him off accordingly. But Matt doesn't seem to notice and holds up his phone, camera facing front. Hood slaps the phone out of his hand.
"No pictures," he says.
You wince. The guy stares and blinks, taking three to five business days to process what just happened.
"What the fuck, man? That was my phone!"
"Sorry. I'm drunk." Hood sighs like he's physically in pain, then leans back and makes drinking motions with his fingers. "Fuckin' wasted! Did you try those rum shots? Lit, dude!"
The guy cheers up, forgetting all about the phone. "Oh, yeah, for sure! I'm gonna go get one right now! Thanks, Santa!"
"You do that!" Hood says cheerily.
As soon as the guy leaves, Hood returns to his resting scary face.
"Wow," you say.
"I know. I threw up in my mouth a little."
You laugh. Hood grins. Then it fades.
"Damn it. We're getting no closer to finding Emerson's partner. I should just interrogate Emerson until he tells me."
Interrogate makes you feel woozy. You're pretty sure you know what Hood's idea of an interrogation is.
"Wait! We just need to lure them out. If they think their money might be in jeopardy, they'll sneak out of the party to go check on it, right?" you ask.
"Potentially, yes. But how do we lure 'em?"
"There's an alert if someone withdraws more than ten thousand dollars from the company. But I don't have access to the accounts," you say.
Hood smiles slowly. "You don't need it. Remember I mentioned my computer whiz brother?"
"Yeah…” You grimace. “This sounds illegal again.”
"Hell yeah it is. He owes me a favor too. Lemme call him."
You two go off to the side while Hood dials.
"Yeah?" comes a voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound at all like Hood, more like a one percenter from the Diamond District. This is Hood’s brother?
"Aliases only. I need you to withdraw fifty grand from Emerson Corp,” Hood says.
"Why?”
“‘Cause you owe me a favor. Just do it.”
“Zombie breath.”
“Shortass,” Hood says, voice taking on a distinct older brother tone.
“You’re such an asshole,” the voice says. He yawns. “B’s wondering if you’re coming tomorrow.”
“I’d rather die again,” Hood says. “And you can tell him I said that.”
“The broody emo bullshit is getting old, dude,” the voice says.
You giggle. Hood looks at you sharply. You press your lips together, properly chastened. Sorry, you mouth.
"Who's that?" the voice asks.
"No one," Hood says. "Did you do it?"
"Chill out. I'm getting past their firewall. So who is that?”
“It’s the TV,” Hood says.
“No, it’s not. That was a lady's laugh, IRL. And you wouldn’t lie if it was someone we know…”
“Mind your damn—”
“I’m helping him with a case,” you blurt.
Hood throws his hand up, glaring at you. It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a solid ten seconds. Then…
“Holy shit,” Hood’s brother says. “You do have a girlfriend. Wait. Hold on. This is wild. You don’t even have a social security number.”
“I do not have a girlfriend!” Hood snaps, drawing the attention of some coworkers. You nudge him. He exhales through his nose.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, you little fucker,” he says, quieter. “She’s telling the truth.”
“Can I ask your girlfriend a question? Respectfully, what were you thinking? You can do so much b—”
“Text me when it’s done,” Hood growls and hangs up.
You look at each other for a moment.
“You didn't hear any of that,” Hood says. “Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Good. Let's see who gets scared. He should do it right about…”
His phone beeps. You look around the room.
Soon, your culprit reveals himself. Matt!
Holy shit.
"He didn't want a picture," Hood says slowly. "He was frisking me! Motherfucker."
"But isn't he drunk?" you ask.
"No." Hood sighs in disgust. "How did I miss that? Br—someone I know does that all the time, spilling alcohol on himself so he smells like he's been drinking. God. Oldest trick in the book!"
"Do you think he knows you're the Red Hood?"
"No. But he might suspect something. Let's go.”
You follow Matt out of the party. He's walking fast. Yeah. Definitely your guy.
Down the hallway, Matt turns around and makes direct eye contact with you. You panic.
“Hood!” you whisper.
“I know,” he says. “Follow my lead.”
Loudly, he laughs and puts an arm around your waist. “C’mon, baby, no one’ll know.”
And then you're being herded into a janitor’s closet.
You stumble in, confused and reeling from how easily Hood plays the affectionate boyfriend role. He follows you in, shuts the door, and pulls the chain dangling from the ceiling. The single light bulb turns on.
You take care to not knock over any cleaning supplies. You don't see the mop on the floor, however, and you trip backwards on the handle.
Hood's reaction time is impeccable. He jerks forward to catch you, tugging you back on your feet with his hands on your arms.
“Y’alright?” he asks.
“Uh-huh,” you say, mildly mortified. “Thanks.”
He lets go. You shift on your feet.
“How long are we gonna stay here?” you ask.
Hood checks his phone. “Well, he should've moved on by now. Let's—”
The doorknob jiggles. You look at Hood in fear. His expression is similar.
“Pretend!” you whisper, and that's all he needs to understand and move.
You're expecting your arms around Hood, maybe exaggeratedly feeling him up. You are not expecting Hood to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs and press you against the wall. You squeal, arms shooting out to hold onto his neck. Hood's beard ends up in your mouth and you spit it out.
The door swings open, revealing a very tipsy couple.
“Oops!” the woman says, grinning. “Sorry. Carry on.”
The guy gives a thumbs-up. “True love.”
You smile awkwardly. Something is pressing into your hip.
“True love,” Hood deadpans. “Rock on.”
As soon as the door closes, you're squirming.
“What is that?” you hiss.
“My gun! Oh my God, it's my gun,” Hood says, quickly setting you down. “It's not…”
He trails off and backs away. You stand there, processing what just happened.
“That wasn’t—”
“I didn’t—”
You both stop. Hood adjusts his beard.
“You're really strong,” you say, wringing your hands.
Hood nods. “Sorry about the, uh…”
“Yeah, let's just not talk about this.”
“Yup. Find Matt?”
“Absolutely.”
You open the door and peek out. The hallway is empty. Glory be.
“All clear,” you say, and Hood is on your heels as you sneak out.
“Any ideas on where he'd go?” Hood asks.
“Matt works in a cubicle like the rest of us. Emerson’s office is on the twelfth floor.”
“Fine. We'll hit Emerson's office first. More privacy, and maybe they'll both be there. Two birds.”
“Emerson's office is protected by a password lock. He changes it every night,” you say, scurrying to keep up with Hood.
“That's fine. I got a key right here,” he says, patting his holster.
“Wait! If the lock is tampered with, it sets off an alarm and security will come. You can't shoot it, Hood.”
He stops and sighs. “Why is everything so goddamn complicated? Alright, new plan. I'm gonna get my stuff from where we were and I'll break in the old-fashioned way.”
Fifteen Minutes Later.
“This seems really unsafe!” you say, watching Hood dangle outside a three story window on a wire. He's attached to a grappling hook but still. Still!
“Eh, I died once. Didn't stick. Hold the hook.”
“I am!” As if you'd do anything but. You don't want the Red Hood to become Red Goo.
Chilly December wind makes your eyes water and your nose cold. Still, you hold on.
“Almost there!” he says.
“Hey! What're you doing?”
You whirl around and close your eyes due to the flashlight shining at them. Even though the lights are on.
An elderly security guard glares at you. It's a good thing you're not an actual criminal… though after tonight, you're not so sure.
“Um.” You try to hold onto the hook while hiding it behind your back. “Bird watching?”
The guard turns off the flashlight and tucks it into his belt. He slowly walks to you.
“If you're doing something illegal, Miss, you're in big trouble.”
Well, this is fantastic. Of course it would be you that gets caught.
The guard is getting closer. Your grip is sweaty. He peers over your shoulder. You let go of the hook, praying to every spirit out there that Hood is as good as everyone says he is.
The guard looks around and scratches his head. You shrug, heart in your throat.
“See?” you say. “Bird watching.”
He frowns at you. “I've got my eye on you.”
“And I commend you for that.”
“Are you sassing me?”
Are you? You might be. You've been spending too much time with Hood.
Hood! You turn and look out the window. You don't see any red goo below, but it's also cold and foggy. Shit. You hurry to the elevators.
“Okay, happy holidays, bye!”
The elevator doors open. You press twelve and close the door before the guard can consider getting on with you and shooting you a hairy eyeball all the way down.
You hurry out and run down to Emerson's office. The door has been left ajar, which is good, right?
Bang!
You throw yourself against the wall. Shit. Maybe not.
Ugh, you told Hood no shooting! Son of a bitch.
“We're doing this tonight!” That's Emerson's voice. “I don't care if I have to shoot my way out.”
Shoot? Oh no.
You carefully peek through the crack. Hood is standing with his hands behind his head. His beard has blood in it. Emerson is in front of him, gun to his head.
Hood catches your eye. He gives you the tiniest head shake. You swallow.
You can't just leave him there.
Okay. Think. Emerson's back is to you. You can't see Matt, but you figure he's far enough away to not immediately shoot you. Hopefully.
Anyway, what's your other option? The feisty relic upstairs? You can't risk any civilians getting hurt.
Technically you're also a civilian but not tonight. Tonight you might as well be Batman.
You slowly pull the door open further. You sneak in, then hide behind the secretary's desk.
“Is it done?” Emerson snaps.
That's when you see Matt in the corner on a laptop.
“It takes time,” Matt says, obviously stressed too.
“Well, hurry up!” Emerson looks at Hood. “Then we'll dispose of Santa here.”
Hood shrugs. “You can certainly try. Many have. ‘M still here.”
“Lots of bravado for a man in a costume,” Emerson sneers. “What are you, police?”
Hood groans. “As fucking if! I'm not a cop.”
He hums. “Perhaps not. Otherwise this place would be crawling with them already. But you're alone.”
“How d'you know I'm alone?” Hood asks.
You're glad he's calm because you're feeling the beginnings of another panic attack. But you can't panic, not now. The adrenaline pulsing through you is the only thing keeping you from going catatonic.
You have no weapon, no plan. How the hell are you supposed to help Hood?
“You're bluffing,” Emerson says.
“He has a girlfriend,” Matt says. “Some IT girl. She might come looking for him.”
“Then we'll take care of her too.”
Matt looks uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything. Hood is still cool as a cucumber.
“She won't look for me. We had a fight. I forgot to buy the candy she likes.”
Candy? Why would—oh!
On the secretary's desk is a glass bowl filled with mini candy canes. You wrap your hands around it.
“She knows my favorite,” Hood says, locking eyes with you.
You throw the bowl with all your might. Emerson is too slow—Hood grabs the bowl one-handed and swings it, knocking the gun from Emerson's hand. The candy explodes into pieces. Hood swings again, this time into Emerson's head. The bowl cracks. Emerson crumples to the floor.
“Are you o—”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
In a blink, Hood wraps one arm around your waist and yanks you to the floor, covering your body. You curl into him on instinct.
“I got you, I got you,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You okay?”
You nod, words not coming right now. You squeeze his hand. Hood seems to understand and he scoots you both behind Emerson’s desk. Then he loads his gun and cocks it.
“Stay here,” he says, then fires six shots.
“Goddamnit!” Matt yells across the room. “This wasn't the plan! You're not supposed to be here!”
Hood laughs, which is absolutely terrifying. “Don't talk to me about ruined plans, buddy. I've been waiting all night for an excuse to shoot somebody. Please make my night.”
Matt fires four more shots.
“Fuck you, cop!”
“What the fuck? Fuck you more! I'm not a fucking cop!”
“Maybe it's the way you stand,” you say, teeth chattering from anxiety.
Hood squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “I stand like a cop? Gross. I gotta work on that.”
“You're somebody!” Matt yells. “You're not just some guy, Todd, don't lie to me. You and that chick from IT are in cahoots.”
You huff. “He knows your name but not mine?”
“I’d take it as a compliment.”
Matt fires again. Hood tucks you behind him.
“He won’t kill anybody,” he says, with way too much confidence, in your opinion.
“Oh, is that why he's peacefully shooting at us?”
“He's scared, sure. But he can’t kill. Trust me, I know. Hey, Matt!”
“What?”
Hood stands up. Your eyes bug out of your head.
“Hood!” you hiss. “Hood!”
He ignores you, of course.
“You won’t hurt anyone,” Hood says. He starts walking toward Matt. “You're not a killer, Matt.”
And all this time you thought Hood was sort of sane. Nope.
“I will shoot you!” Matt warns.
“Aw. You wouldn't shoot Santy Claus, would you?”
Matt pulls the trigger. You gasp. It clicks. The magazine is empty.
Hood closes the distance between them and grabs the gun, then elbows Matt in the face. Matt sprawls onto the floor.
“Yeah, I don't risk my life on human emotion,” Hood says, loud enough so you can hear. “People can be so unpredictable. I will take a chance on a gun that only fires seven rounds, though. For a guy in finance, you're not very good with numbers, Matty.”
You sigh in relief, slumping against the desk. After tonight, you're retiring.
“Y'okay over there?” Hood asks.
“Yeah.”
It's quiet for a bit. Then Hood returns and offers you a hand to help you stand. You do so on shaky limbs.
He's got a cut on his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek. You frown.
“I'm sorry I let go of the hook. I thought—”
“You let go of the hook?”
You stop. “Um. No?”
Hood squints at you. “Choosing to forgive you for that.”
“I knew you were inside the office!”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I'm not the only one taking risks,” you say. “Matt still fired at you.”
“Eh.” Hood shrugs. “He’s a crap shot. And I counted the rounds. I maintain my point. Factually, he could not shoot me.”
“You could've told me the gun was empty,” you say.
“I wanted you to think I was cool and brave.”
You laugh. “I already think that.”
Hood looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to see right down into your soul. Intense. You cross your arms.
“So, um, ready to ditch this party?” you ask.
“With pleasure.”
“What about them?” you ask, pointing to Matt.
“I have backup arriving soon. Let's get your coat.”
You get your things while Hood changes back into his usual garb. He meets you at the back exit, the one that leads to an alleyway, Santa suit gone. The party's winding down and most are getting into their cars. You're grateful no one stops to ask where you disappeared to.
There's police outside, but they're not here for Emerson. It's Bill that's being questioned by Commissioner Gordon. You stop short at the sight.
“Hood… what did you do?”
“Hm? Oh! There might have been some discrepancies in Bill's finances and he might have committed fraud to pay off his gambling debts. All circumstantial, though.”
“Please don't tell me you framed my coworker because he's a jerk,” you say.
“No, but I'm not above that, for the record. I recognized Bill from when I was casing the Iceberg Lounge. That's where he racked up all that debt.”
You nod slowly. “That's how you knew his name.”
“Yup. He was a nobody, so I didn't bother with him. Had I known he was such a menace at work, well…”
You grin. “It's okay. I appreciate it now.”
Hood nods. The silence is awkward for a few seconds.
“So—”
“You don't have to keep working here,” he says. “You can leave if you wanna.”
“Hood…”
He puts up a hand. “Hear me out. I have a contact at Wayne Enterprises. I can get you an interview. Hell, I can get you the job.”
“And what would I owe you?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. Think of it as a thank you for tonight. You didn't have to help me but you did.”
You open and close your mouth. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”
“Don't gotta say a thing,” Hood says quietly. “If anyone deserves a new year, it's you.”
“Oh.” Your throat feels tight suddenly. “Oh, Hood, that's really—that's nice of you.”
“It's been known to happen. Don't spread it around though.”
“But I don't want the job without interviewing!” you say. “I want to get it on my own.”
Hood nods. “Deal.”
You want to hug him but that seems like too much, even with all you’ve done tonight. So you take out a candy cane instead.
“I salvaged one from the bowl,” you say. “Merry Christmas, Hood.”
He takes it, tucking it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas. Need a ride?”
You shake your head. “I'm fine. See you around?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Stay safe, alright?”
“Oh, I will. Will you?”
He laughs. “No promises.”
Then you blink and he's gone. You shove your hands into your coat pockets.
In each pocket, there's a handful of Warheads. You smile.
i have this specific scene in my mind. it's basically these two, at their lydias' request, showing movie lyds a fun time involving crazy dancing, spinning, roller coasters, beetleclones and a fancy red dress that is NOT a wedding gown for a change. all set to saint motel's my type
movie lydia pulling The Bewildered Winona Face at first but then slowly starts having fun with this incredibly bizarre situation
would this be healing for her? i think it would be healing. i'm not sure how, it just feels oddly comforting. i want her to have fun :(
it just looks so fucking cool in my head, animated and set to the music. i wish animation didnt take ages to do ugh
imagine something like aladdin's friend like me??? and the animated beetlejuice intros??
also i chose saint motel's my type because 1. energetic and catchy as all FUCK and 2. "you're just my type -- you got a PULSE and you are BREATHING"
if you’re a white creator and your brown/black characters are always sassy, reckless, aggressive or cold and your white characters are always soft, demure, shy and introverted you should think about maybe why you did that
sorry to hijack your post, but imo this also applies to colourism dynamics, even if you have a full cast of colour. like i can only confidently speak from the south asian context, but RAMPANT colourism in the community has given rise to and perpetuated these same stereotypes of people with darker skin being more aggressive and sexually promiscuous than the “reserved, civilised” light skins.
This applies to your wlw and mlm ships as well. If the lighter or white one is always sweeter, nicer, softer, more innocent, or more feminine and the darker or poc one is always meaner, louder, more aggressive, more sexual, or more masculine then you’ve got a problem sweetie and that’s racism.
If you reblogged this from me then please reblog this addition too!
it’s like no one wants to fucking take their bloody hands and cup their lover’s face, making a streak of red on their cheek with their thumb before passionately kissing anymore
the trick to pulling off unusual clothing is to simply wear unusual clothing until other people associate you with unusual clothing and say things like “only you could pull that off”
don't use "ftm" it's outdated and offensive. it implies that the trans person was their agab, which we never were. i was always a boy, never a girl who became a boy.
i'm 35 years old. i've been IDing as trans or something similar to trans for nearly 20 years. i was probably calling myself FTM while you were playing tag during recess, anon.
i WAS a girl. i IDed as a girl early in my life. i recognized myself as a girl, called myself a girl, lived as a girl, and was a girl. who then IDed as a man. hence, F t M.
spend more time worrying about yourself instead of strangers on the internet, anon.
sorry not sorry if this comes off as needlessly hostile, but i've been getting a lot of shit from a lot of teenage trans kids about the language i use to describe my own goddamn experience, and i'm growing real fuckin weary of it.
i have elder trans friends who call themselves transsexuals and transvestites and trannies. are you going to seriously go to a 60-year-old trans person who survived the reagan years and tell her she's not allowed to use certain language to describe herself because it might offend the delicate sensibilities of some teenager on the internet?
do yourself a favor and log off, find some real-life trans people who are over the age of 20 or 25, and spend time talking to them instead of getting all holier-than-thou at random strangers on tumblr.
It may be weird to encounter because it's not the trans narrative that the media sells to us as 'the only valid way to be trans', but the 'I always knew I was x' is not all-encompassing.
Anon there are more people than you think who were girls who grew up into men, or boys who grew up into women, or girls or boys who grew up to be nonbinary. There is a rather obscure theory that girl and boy are distinct genders from man and woman and while the most common trajectory is that boys grow into men and girls grow into women it's not the rule.
also if you think genderfluid people are real and you're not just humoring us, you by definition have to allow that gender can change over time. I was a girl once. I am not a girl now.
Ive been here long enough to see words like ftm/mtf, afab/amab, transmale/female, trans man/woman all go through the cycle of ppl telling you to “Dont use X word its out dated. Now use this Y word”. Only for a year or two pass and suddenly “Y word is outdated. Now use Z word” like yall this is exhausting. Just because a word is old doesn’t automatically make it a slur or offensive.
comprehensive list of things that happened to me in my welding course with The Guys:
- was the only one to get an A the first grading period. had to stop them from putting me on their shoulders
- became the official classroom mascot on account of i was the only girl. this meant i was an integral stop on any and all workshop tours. was referred to as “Our Lady Helena” on these occasions
- almost set myself on fire once bc my prof stood behind me watching me try a skill he’d just demonstrated and he shouted very suddenly very loudly. restarted my heart and asked WTF WAS THAT FOR JOHN and he called me a “goddamn wonder”. i almost got third degree burned over a compliment
- mentioned offhand ONE TIME that swords were cool. also mentioned my birthday offhand ONE TIME. one of The Guys remembered both instances and also happened to find a sword in a dumpster so he gave it to me for my birthday
- came in fifth in an arm wrestling competition
- french braided my hair in class bc i didn’t have time to do it beforehand. ended up with an audience of like 5+ guys trying to figure out how tf i was doing it
- told The Guys my college friends call me barbie. Mistake. suddenly had all 12 of them calling me Barbarian
- had some down time and made a silly little sculpture with some scraps. The Guys were endlessly intrigued by this and demanded to see some of my art school stuff. had a small crowd around my phone cheering loudly every time i swiped to a new picture
- accidentally mentioned the cafe i worked at. Mistake. several days later all 12 of them came in to bother me
- offered someone a haircut. Mistake. had to retract the offer bc suddenly Everyone wanted a haircut and it would Not Be Fair if i only did one
we shouldn’t trust historians to teach us history because they are people with biases. instead we should learn from instagram influencers, who would never lie to us.
Yeah, there’s a series of videos where they question whether Helen Keller was a real person or else “faking it”. Worst of all, the argument for why she couldn’t have been real is that no deaf and blind person could “do all that” referring to her extensive education, the 12 books she wrote, world travel, and work campaigning on things like civil rights and women’s suffrage. (Sources: Guardian Article, Slate Article)
I think my least favorite commentary is from this writer on Medium saying: “Generation Z literally does not believe Helen Keller existed. And frankly, I’m having a hard time accepting that she did myself. I don’t feel bad or wrong for it … Does it stem from our own insecurities — could it be that a blind, deaf woman with more success in life than all of us is too much to grasp? Possibly.”
I amend my statement. Disabled people should be allowed to hunt Helen Keller-deniers for sport.
Am I the only one who thinks the guy who's running the radio game show Life Is Yours To Choose at the end of Mark's video of Drive Time Radio (let's face it, it's a 90% chance it's the Actor) kinda speaks like Wilford? Like cadence-and-rhythm-wise? Maybe implying insanity or maybe he's just mocking him.
My mother also talked about periods to my brothers.
When I first got mine I had terrible cramps. Crippling cramps. I once was camping with my family and a few of my big brother’s friends when my period came. My cramps were so bad that my mom gave me a full pain killer ( I was 13 and before that she only gave me pills cut in half).
I literally laid down on my parents’ air mattress and cried in pain for an hour before the pill kicked in.
My brothers friend came in to the big tent and I was just curled up and sobbing. Now, I was quite the tomboy and was known to rough house with my brothers and their friends and made sure I wasnt seen as just “a little girl.” So my brother’s friend was confused to see me openly weeping in the fetal position (seriously, these were the worst cramps I have had in my life. My vision went white). He asked what was wrong with me.
My big brother stood up immediately and suggested a nice long hike. During this hike I am sure he had a pretty awkward conversation with his friend explaining menstrual cramps, because when they got back the pain pill had (mostly) kicked in and I was sitting up at a table when my brother’s friend sheepishly asked me if I was feeling better. I said I was better, and he said good.
When we made s'mores that night my brother and his friend kept me well supplied with chocolate.
Making sure sons know as much about periods and menstruation as daughters makes them better brothers, better sons better fathers, and better men. A man that understands a period will not lightly accuse a woman of “being on her period” if the woman is in an argument.
Raise better sons Teach them about normal bodily functions.
this reminds me of that post about that dude who carries tampons with him at the gym because “half the world menstruates” and “you will build a whole guest room in case your friends want to stay the night but you won’t carry tampons in case they start their periods unexpectedly” or something and honestly they both give me life. <3
