#I was just trying to stand up for the principle of Letting Posts Stand Alone and Not Using Faith To Discount Everything A Person Says

[myfairkatiecat]

Guys I don't understand what I did.

[wordsarelife]

DAY 5: CHRISTMAS LOVE

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: it was no secret that mattheo riddle annoyed the hell out of you, but you did grow concerned when you suddenly didn’t mind it anymore..

warnings: suggestive, mentions of throwing up, but it doesn’t actually happen. apart from that nothing else

notes: i’m so sorry but i lost the original request, so i had to go with the short notes i had made, so i might leave something out! but i think i have the essential part

sorry it took me so long to post but i had to proofread before i could let whatever the fuck this is (🫠) into the world!

you watched the snow fall behind the stained glass window. the library was dimly lit, making it easier for you to see.

you loved this time of year. it was so quiet. especially in hogwarts. most of the student body had gone home for the holidays and you were one of the few people that stayed.

to your luck the biggest nuisance in the world did too. “what are we looking at?” mattheo riddle asked close to your ear.

you shrieked to the side, startled by his sudden appearance.

“what?” he asked “you’re scared of me now?”

you rolled your eyes “scared isn’t the word i would use, more like deeply frustrated” you grabbed the book from the window sill and got up.

“sexually?” he asked, raising his eyebrows

“ugh” you rolled your eyes, walking around him

“hey!” mattheo tried to stand in your way but was unsuccessful “where are you going?”

“somewhere you aren’t”

mattheo followed close behind you. “come on” he said “it’s christmas time! the loveliest time of the year! can’t you knit me a sweater or something?”

you send him a spiteful look.

“a hat?”

“i’m not gonna knit you anything” you halted in your step. taking a quick look at the book in your hand before you held it in his direction. “actually, do you mind bringing this back to where i got it from?”

“do i get mittens?”

“sure” you rolled your eyes and waited until he had walked around the shelf, before you quickly sprinted to the exit.

to your luck, he made it out of the library just a second after.

since he had first noticed how much it annoyed you, mattheo had made it a habit to follow you around the castle. over the time he had become an instant trigger for your headache.

“so what about these mittens huh?”

“riddle, can’t you leave me alone?” at least he was walking not next to you

“you’re the only one in our year i know”

“and?”

“christmas is for friends huh?”

“we’re not friends” you argued, crossing your arms

“we could be” mattheo shrugged. “and then you realize how great i am and give me a blowjob on christmas morning”

“oh because you’re so great i suddenly want to give you a blowjob?” you asked disgusted, while crossing your arms

“there’s no shame in admitting you want to pleasure me”

“eww” you shook your head “do you ever think about anything else but sex?”

“you’re way too hot to not think about sex or you getting on your knees and—“

“alright” you interrupted, raising your arms. but before you could try something else to get him to leave you alone, something helpful entered your field of vision.

you smiled at him, before you walked left.

“no!” mattheo argued “that’s not fair”

you walked into the girls washroom and ignored him. he held the door open.

“you know it violates my principles to go in there”

“i do” you nodded, pretty aware that he wouldn’t be caught dead in there. you weren’t even sure why. mattheo normally wasn’t the guy to follow rules, but he did have a high moral standard considering places like the girls washroom or sleeping quarters.

you smiled mischievously, suddenly thinking about testing him “come in here and i’ll give you the best blowjob of your life”

you weren’t even thinking about ever doing that.

mattheo ignored what you said, even if he did get a little white at your words “you play dirty!” he protested “but okay, you win this time!”

you smiled about the frustration on his face. he had always tried to flirt with you, but it never fazed you, so now you were the impossible challenge for him. and what better time for this than when almost to no students were in hogwarts and school was out.

mattheo found you later in the evening, while you were sitting at the slytherin table, enjoying your meal while reading your book. during the holidays no one could forbid you from doing that.

you had heard him approach from a few feet away. it was like you had developed a special radar for him over the years.

"hello, love" he sat down beside you

"don't call me that" you muttered, without looking up

"what? no flinching?"

"you're not invisible"

"okay then what was that, a few hours ago in the library?" he asked and you could practically feel him raising his eyebrows.

"the library was the last place i expected you to be" you said truthfully

"you were there"

"yes" you nodded and looked up at him "because i thought you'd never be"

mattheo sighed, sliding closer to you. you side eyed him. "come any closer and i'll scream"

“come on, y/n” mattheo said almost sounding friendly. but then there was that smug smile again. “why don’t we call a truce? considering the holiday season?”

“never” you turned the page “can you leave me alone now?”

mattheo began eating peacefully, not even caring what you had said and you just sighed, going back to ignoring him. after you had finished dinner, he followed you again as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“stop following me” you stopped, turning around to look at him

“i do have the same way, you know?” he came closer to you, leaning down and whispering in your ear “not everything i do is about you, sweetheart” you watched with big eyes how he smirked and then undid his tie with a quick gesture. he winked at you before he continued his way, leaving you standing in the hallway.

you looked after him puzzled. you had not considered that proximity — or how it had made you feel. you almost found it attractive. you couldn’t believe what you were thinking but for a short second you really were attracted to mattheo riddle. of all people.

you tried to take calming breaths, so whatever had happened right now would go away, but it was to no appeal.

of course mattheo had always looked good, even you couldn’t ignore that, but you had never once thought about him as more than a nuisance that got on your last nerve. now you were almost wishing him to be here, pushing you against the wall—

you couldn’t determine what had suddenly come over you. mattheo had done a pretty good job bothering you these past few years and you had always resisted his advances. and now, just half a year before graduation you were getting weak?

you tried shaking your head, to get rid of the thoughts in there. you quickly walked in the direction of the common room.

in your room, you went into the bathroom, taking a cold shower and after that going to bed as quick as possible. you didn’t want to grant your head the time to think about the stupid boy even more.

the next few days were torture for you. you hadn’t had a proper sleep in days, your mind always wandering back to him.

of course mattheo had picked up his usual habit again, finding you whenever you had been able to get rid of him. every word of him made you a bit weaker in the knees and almost give in. but there was that little bit of self worth that kept you from leaping over the table and kissing the smug smile off his face.

right now you were sitting at dinner, not really getting anything down while you slowly turned the pages of your magazine, while mattheo was sitting across from you, talking your ear off.

even if you could act normal with your last bit of strength, you weren’t able to fight his presence anymore. when he was able to find you, you would mostly just give in. and to your horror you had to admit that he wasn’t even as bad as you had thought. even if half the things he said were total nonsense.

you caught yourself losing track of the magazine and actually listening to him. and you didn’t even hate it. he was funny, you had to admit and he was interested in what you had to answer to his questions

“what’s your favorite color?” he asked, just after he had finished a rant about not being allowed to smoke in his dorm, but doing it anyway.

“huh?” you asked

“your favorite color” mattheo smiled and probably for the first time you noticed how beautiful it was. and it seemed genuine.

“green” you shrugged and his smile got impossibly bigger.

“i like green too” he gushed. he looked like a five year old. and to your personal horror you did not find it disgusting, but rather cute and charming. you wanted to throw up, right now, right here.

you got up from the seat abruptly. “i have to go to the bathroom” you said quickly and mattheo looked at you in confusion

“are you alright?” he asked, but you were already walking out the hall in a quick step.

you reached the bathroom and almost stumbled into the stall, falling down on the floor.

“y/n?” a voice from outside the washroom called

“not now, mattheo” you said annoyed. you leaned against the wall, while you began to cry. luckily you didn’t have to throw up. but the feeling didn’t go away.

you didn’t know what was happening to you. you were feeling like you had lost your mind.

“y/n?” mattheo called again, sounding concerned “are you alright?”

“i said not now” you screamed. he was standing in the door, looking at you scared. he looked like he didn’t know what to do. and still he did not set a foot into the room.

“are you crying?” he wondered

“no!” you screamed, while tears were running down your cheeks, very openly falsifying your statement. you quickly wiped them away.

“what’s wrong?”

“everything” you bellowed “and all of it is your fault!”

“my fault?” he asked almost offended “what the fuck are you talking about?”

“i don’t know what you did to make me feel like this, but as soon as find out you’re gonna hope you were never born” you got up walking into his direction, pointing your finger at him accusingly. he was walking backwards until you were both standing in the hall.

“whoa” he raised his hands “i didn’t do anything to you”

“you’re lying” you shook your head “i can’t eat, i can’t sleep. i think about you all the time, without wanting to and i actually listen to what you tell me and the worst thing is that i suddenly don’t hate you anymore. i hated you for the past six years and now i can’t do it anymore? what the fuck is going on mattheo? i feel like i’m losing my mind”

you almost wanted him to find a solution for your problem.

“i don’t know okay?” mattheo said “maybe you’re just in love with me” he joked then, but it smile faded quickly and he got serious. “maybe you are in love with me” he repeated softly.

you send him a spiteful look “i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you”

“i’d rather jump out of the window than be in love with you too” he exclaimed. then he paused, until he looked into your eyes, smiling slightly “but i just can’t help it” he whispered

your eyes softened. for the first time in a long time, you believed what he was saying.

“i can’t eat, i can’t sleep” he muttered, gently fixing a strand of your hair “i think about you all the time” he touched your cheek softly “and i actually listen to what you tell me” his fingers grazed your lips. “and i don’t ever want it to stop” his hand touched your neck and your eyes closed on instant.

then he softly kissed you. your hand went to his collar, drawing him closer. you deepened the kiss, while you breathed in his smell. he smelled of nicotine and some sort of perfume that was unfamiliar to you but it could make you recognize him anywhere.

he softly broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours. “why does it feel so intense?” you asked “i thought i had to throw up back in there” you pointed behind you.

“i’d say it gets better, but it never does” he shrugged “not even after years”

“years?” you repeated “you felt like this for years?”

“did you think i was following you around because i loved spending my time in the library?”

“i thought you followed me because you just wanted to get in my pants”

“don’t get me wrong, i do want to get into your pants” he smirked “but not only once and i also want to do so much more than just that”

you smiled at him. maybe being in love with someone wasn’t so bad after all. not when it was him.

he smiled back “let’s go back to the common room” he suggested and you nodded. he layed an arm around your shoulder, kissing you on the forehead.

“mattheo?”

“hmm?”

“why didn’t you go in the washroom a few days ago, even though i promised you the best blowjob of your life?” you asked the question in a joking manner, but it really did interest you.

“you didn’t mean it”

“still”

“it’s not respectful” he shrugged “entering a place like that, it’s not okay, even if no one would catch me. even if it would be just the two of us” he said truthfully “but back there? i almost threw all that out of the window, because i thought something was wrong and you needed my help”

you hugged his body closer “thank you” you whispered and he kissed you on the head.

“so.. about those mittens”

you laughed. “merry christmas, matty”

“merry christmas, y/n”

taglist: @twistedhistory @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift @taygrls @athenalikethegoddess @claradelage @novelizt @ahead-fullofdreams

[gumjester]

whether or not i would fight the following eah students

im drunk and found this in my notes from 2021. 😭 I NO LONGER STAND BY SOME OF THESE OPINIONS. but most i do. a semantic sequel to this post

Raven Queen: no. hasn't she already been through enough? also i'd definitely lose

Apple White: yes. god yes. it would be so funny

Briar Beauty: maybe while drunk, but something tells me it would be a very bad idea

Ashlynn Ella: no. god, how depressing would that be? though maybe she'd have a chance if she went at me with a stiletto

Hunter Huntsman: yes, because it would be funny to see how he would try to avoid killing me instantly

Cedar Wood: no. what's the point? it's like trying to kick the shit out of a really polite coffee table

Cerise Hood: MAYBE IF I WAS FEELING REALLY MEAN. it would be funny in a similar manner to hunter, but with the added tension of me constantly going for the hood. i know ur shit cerise. don't play w me

Blondie Lockes: i consider fighting blondie lockes one of my primary life goals. i will curbstomp that bitch in the middle of her own livestream

Sparrow Hood: 100%, mostly for public spectacle. idk if i would win but I'm sure we'd have a wonderful time. unless he has his guitar on him because he would defo play dirty and just start swinging it like a mace

Duchess Swan: no thank you. ballerinas are strong and duchess stores anger like nutrition for the winter. she would break my neck

Darling Charming: i don't think so. depending where she is on public knowledge of her secret she'd either purposefully lose or just wipe the floor with me. awkward all round

Dexter Charming: maybe, because i think if he gave it a proper go he'd win and i feel like that would be good for his self esteem

Daring Charming: yes, because i know i'd win if i straight away went for his face. bust his lip open. it would humble him

Lizzie Hearts: no ma'am. maybe i'd fare better in hand to hand combat but i can't imagine she'd keep any less than four knives on her person and lizzie is not the type to hold back. im heading straight to hospital

Kitty Cheshire: no. it would be humiliating. i can't see how i'd even get a hit in

Maddie Hatter: absolutely not. i have no qualms with her whatsoever, also she'd definitely kill me by accident

Alistair Wonderland: sure, why not. i want to see what all that time in apocalyptic wonderland has taught him, and whether it cancels out his status as a fucking nerd

Bunny Blanc: no, because i don't want to go to jail for homicide. she is a 5 foot nothing rabbit who can barely stand up by herself. she'd die if i poked her with a toothpick

Chase Redford: NO. if he didn't want to fight he'd just silently let me hit him for like an hour, and if he was About It then he'd instantly fucking annihilate me. just leave the boy alone

Courtly Jester: I KNOW I'D LOSE BUT IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING. I HAVE TO FIGHT HER. i might even have a chance if she wasn't allowed to pirate any dark magic

Humphrey Dumpty: i feel cruel for even thinking about this. he's a skinny gamer with a physical predisposition for getting hit. it would be like shooting fish in the most depressing barrel

Hopper Croakington II: NO. HE IS MY FUCKING BOY AND I'LL PROTECT HIM WITH EVERYTHING I HAVE. also i could just flirt and then stamp on the frog

Faybelle Thorn: yeah sure. this may sound egotistical but i'm pretty sure i could win if magic wasn't involved

Crystal Winter: yes. the bitch would trip over her own shoelaces and knock herself out

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 2

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; swearing, a LOT of canon archon quest yappery (sorry)

note ; part two baybee!! in comparison to the ao3 version of this, i’ve decided to merge the chapters two by two to make them seem longer and since so far, i’ve only written five- next one might take a little longer to come out. or maybe i’ll just post chapter 5 stand-alone, who knows

also i’ve got a taglist now!

previous | next | masterlist

your arrival in liyue harbor goes less than stellar.

the port is packed full of people who are either confused or outraged at the line of millelith soldiers who refuse to let anyone through. you end up waiting in a line for an annoying amount of time, up until you’re finally attended to by a soldier.

“i’m sorry but liyue harbor is not accepting in any tourists, we are trying to keep our… current situation under control as best we can while investigations are still in order, i hope you can understand.” the millelith states formally.

“oh, well err- i’m no tourist, i was born in liyue harbor! my parents migrated from overseas many years ago and i was just on a leisurely trip to snezhnaya, haha…” you lie through your teeth.

the mere mention of snezhnaya sets off the most minute reaction in the millelith solider, hence why you’re under a fake identity to begin with. you politely hand him a folder with forged documents so gracefully provided to you by your employers and pray to your lucky stars- and, well, tsaritsa, that it’s good enough for him to let you pass.

the soldier remains neutral for a few seconds as he eyes through the paper.

“very well. but please behave in an orderly fashion inside the city, as i said the trail on the ahem- incident is still fresh. welcome home.”

it takes a lot out of you not to snort at the welcome.

the poor naïve man truly wasn’t lying- the inside of the harbor was just as tumultuous as the outside. people in the streets gather in small groups and anxiously whisper their worries to each other. but most of all, they eye you suspiciously like you were the one to stab a sword through rex lapis with the entire harbor watching. you’d say they’re within reason to do so, losing their protector god and all.

you wouldn’t call yourself the most devoted of subjects but you’d also hate to imagine a snezhnaya without the tsaritsa so… benevolently

watching over it. challenging the heavenly principles like she has would certainly cause a catastrophic bite in the ass for the nation if she were to perish. maybe you could be a devoted subject enough to prevent that from happening.

drowning in a whirlpool of your own thoughts, you don’t even realize you’re already standing in front of the northland bank branch of liyue harbor. you try to walk inside as discreetly as possible, so as to not raise any suspicion toward you from the millelith or civilians and to not disturb the workers inside the bank.

unfortunately your efforts are in vain, because you’re recognized immediately.

“ah, sergeant y/n! we were expecting that you would arrive soon. please, allow me to take care of your luggage.” calls out the receptionist, ekaterina.

not only does she practically announce your arrival, she does it while the very bane of your existence is present in the main hall of the bank, formerly distracted as he spoke to a blonde woman in the strangest garments you’ve ever seen and a uh… floating baby?

childe’s ears, no- his entire body, almost instinctively perk up at the mention of your name and he abruptly stops his sentence midway through to look over to the entrance, to you.

“y/n? what in the name of the tsaritsa are you doing here?” he inquires, eyebrows furrowed with the purest of confusions. that is until he remembers the traveler and paimon are still present and most definitely more perpexled than he is.

so he decides to save face before anything else.

“missed me too much?” childe adds cockily.

your eyes almost roll on their own accord. “whatever you’d like to tell yourself. unfortunately, they decided to station me here to help… stabilize the situation, surely that has nothing to do with you screwing up?”

he scoffs. “there’s been nothing to screw up. in fact, the situation is plentiful under control and we’ve already devised a plan to solve it. your intrusion is unneede-”

“wh- you big liar! we literally met after you kicked a bunch of millelith butt in broad daylight! we’ve been stumbling up and down these past few days just to clear our names.” the floating baby speaks up.

you cock your head to the side at the revelation with curiosity and just a smidgen of smugness.

“and you! don’t think just because paimon likes making fun of childe doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. we heard what the lady called you, you’re fatui just like mr. pants-on-fire over here. just who are you anyway?!” the floating baby glides over to you with an accusatory finger pointed and a suspicious squint to her eyes.

the blonde woman, who’s been radio silent this entire time, merely puts a hand on the floating one’s shoulder to pull her back, though she also looks wary of you.

childe laughs at the display and holds out a formal hand as to introduce you. “traveler, paimon, this is y/n, my.. coworker as you can obviously tell. don’t worry though, they’re not a bad guy or kind of a bad guy like me, you have nothing to worry about. they’re actually an amazingly talented battle medic and head nurse of the fatui, that’s why they carry the sergeant title.”

you’re taken aback for a brief moment at the unexpected praise. you were waiting for just a formal introduction of your position in the fatui, or even one that contained a little snarky comment about your attitude towards him. but no, he only complimented your talents. it’s almost a little too courtly too.

“y/n, this is the traveler and paimon. these two not from around here but they unfortunately managed to land right in the bullseye of the incident and are being considered murder suspects. i’m merely helping them clear their names.”

ah, there’s the kicker. he’s “helping” those two.

you know childe well enough to comprehend that he wouldn’t just help some strangely dressed bystanders if he didn’t think he could snake his way into benefit, in this case most likely the geo gnosis. that’s why he’s trying to make somewhat of a good image for himself and those associated. conniving bastard.

then again, takes one to know one.

“so it’s true then, rex lapis is dead.” you hum. “but why has the millelith jumped to the conclusion that it was a murder so quickly? what exactly happened in the rite of descension?”

“weeell, the ceremony was starting just fine and dandy when suddenly the sky got unusually dark and then- bam! thunder strikes and this huge amber dragon drops dead from the sky.” paimon explains dramatically before shivering.

“eugh… really gave paimon the heebie-jeebies… then, the tianquan went over to examine the body and immediately announced it was a murder.”

“interesting.. did the dragon seem to have any visible injuries? any slashes or punctures? weapons sticking out of his body?”

“it’s tricky to say, as i was just relaying onto the traveler before you arrived, the qixing have long since confiscated the exuvia and are refusing to let anyone see it.” childe joins in, looking down pensively with a hand on his chin.

“it feels too early to draw any conclusions but paimon can confidently say it was not us and our names are squeaky clean! either way, we should get going- we’ve done so much walking up mountains since we got here and it’s making paimon famished.”

“see, you keep saying that but you still float, paimon-“ you hear the traveler say as the pair turns to leave.

“oh shush, you!!”

the air between the remaining two of you is thick with awkwardness. you decide to be one to break it once the traveler and paimon are well away from earshot.

“so, how will your charitable little side quest tie into getting the gnosis?”

“hah, you’ve barely arrived and you’re looking so far ahead?”

“aren’t you? in fact, didn’t you say you’d already ‘devised plan to solve it’ and that my presence was ‘unneeded’?” you question, accentuating the quotings in your sentence with a less than half-assed impression of childe’s own pesky tone at the time.

“jeez, i do not sound like that-“

“not the point-“

“yes yes, whatever… for the record i do already have a plan.” he admits. “unfortunately for you, doc, it is a bit airtight and therefore- your interference is unneeded.”

“y’know what, you’re right. if someone like you is describing their plans as airtight then maybe it’s best if i stay out of its splash zone.” you bite back and childe scoffs.

“who even ordered you be sent here?”

the malicious grin grows on your face with haste.

“the jester.”

“wha-?! argh, that old man…”

—

“ekaterina?”

“yes- how may i help you, sergeant?”

“what would be your recommendations for restaurants ‘round here?”

evening was nearing and you could feel the emptiness eating at your stomach from the inside. the few days that had passed of your stay in liyue were remarkably unremarkable. half of your time was spent cooped up in northland bank with diplomatic or medical paperwork while the other half was you doing whatever discreet investigation inside the city that you could, up to little avail.

childe was moving forward with his scheming while effectively keeping you completely in the dark from it- well not completely, as he wasn’t the only stubborn one out of the two of you. some intel about his flawless, artful plan had “slipped out” (meaning you pried it out of ekaterina) and come to your knowledge- for example, today he’d be going out to meet with the traveler and paimon for another meeting with one of his… contacts, he called it. you just didn’t know where.

luckily your source of discovering that had just walked through the door.

“welcome, friend of childe! and congratulations on the first day of your illustrious career with the fatui.” ekaterina greets formally and you’re too late to stop yourself from visibly cringing.

“i have no intention of joining the fatui.” the traveler says curtly.

“you sound remarkably sure of yourself… remember, we are mere mortals- our ideas are fluid like water. only the tsaritsa truly has a will as solid as permafrost.”

you huff at the receptionist’s straightforwardness.

“i’m sure we can maintain.. beneficial connections without anyone signing away their names. why don’t we keep to the matter of this visit?” with a slightly forced business smile, you try to ease the traveler’s stone-like expression. thought, if you were in her shoes you believe you’d react much the same.

and you would sure as hell never recommend for someone to join the fatui.

“hm, yes, back to the matter at hand- childe tells me that he has upheld his end of your agreement.”

“what agreement? ..oh, the thing about him helping us find a guy?” paimon inquires.

“correct. childe promised he would find someone to break the stalemate. and harbingers do not break their promises lightly.”

this time you succeed in internalizing your reaction to the comment- from your personal experience, childe did not exactly fit that concept. but there was no time for dwelling on that now.

“ah, where is that guy anyway?”

“childe is currently at liuli pavilion.”

bingo.

“liuli pavilion?” you ask.

“oh, oh! paimon knows this one!” paimon exclaims, proceeding to give an insight of the rival cooking styles of liyue and you almost admire how dedicated she is to liking food so… academically. you’re half zoning out at their conversation when your stomach traitorously growls for all ears to hear.

“hey, y/n, why don’t you join us? you’re a friend of childe’s too afterall!” the floating guide propositions naively.

“ah err… i-i wouldn’t describe it like that, plus, i wasn’t invited to this meeting. i’d hate to intrude.” you try to wave it off. while this could be your current best chance at receiving more context on their investigation, you’d rather not do it where childe would catch onto you.

“well it won’t hurt to ask him! c’mon, at least walk with us, you’ll have to find a place to eat anyway.” paimon drags you by the sleeve out of northland bank, along with the traveler, with unexpected strength in her grasp.

the streets are bustling with people, walking back and forth as they also step out to guarantee themselves some dinner. the crowd covers the sight of liuli pavilion’s entrance and it’s not until you’ve actually arrived that childe sees you.

he looks no less than befuddled.

“aha, y-you’ve made it…” he laughs awkwardly, clearly not expecting the current situation to ever occur. “care to explain the plus one?”

“they’re just that! they were also looking for a place to eat so we invited them to join us.” paimon contextualizes, oblivious to the silent glare battle taking place between the two of you.

“w-well anyhow-“ childe effectively retreats from the as promised, i’ve found someone who can help you. someone who can solve the mystery of why the liyue qixing would hide the geo archon’s vessel.”

“so.. where is he? in liuli pavilion?”

“he certainly is. come, i’ll… introduce you.” he intends to sound cheerful but the last part of his sentence comes out the smidgen most strained as his eyes flicker to you momentarily.

“i took the liberty of setting up a business dinner, as per liyue custom.”

the traveler and paimon walk ahead and get distracted with the warm welcome of the restaurant’s staff while you and childe try not to jump to an argument then and there.

“trust me, i resisted this impromptu invite as much as i could.” you mutter, preferring to look at the surroundings rather than the harbinger beside you.

“good, because you won’t be joining anyway.” he replies coldly as he starts walking inside ahead of you.

“at least let me see the damn restaurant first, maybe i won’t join your table but that doesn’t mean i won’t eat there.”

“how will i know you’re not listening in on our busine-“

“childe? y/n? c’mon, let’s get to our table!” paimon calls out from further into the pavilion.

as you round to the reserved table, you see a brown-haired man in refined amber clothing seated at the far end of it, tea in hand. somehow you think you’ve seen him before but only out in the streets, perhaps at third-round knockout listening to the storyteller at the front tables.

“yes yes, i’m here.” childe steps up, half-sheepish at his late arrival. “unfortunately, y/n won’t be joining us as they have other matters to attend to.” he says like you’re not standing right beside him.

“really? but y/n didn’t say anything, plus, they seemed like they were awfully hungry-“

“forgive the intrusion but, childe, might this be the same y/n you’ve mentioned before?”

the man at the table joins in and childe looks like he’s promptly died on the spot. you, however, look elated at the revelation.

so elated that you don’t see the flush of red that plagues childe’s face and ears.

“why yes, i might just be.” the grin on your face seems only friendly to the other three and only the harbinger feels it’s real sting of triumph.

“then, please, let us all eat together.”

you all waste no more time to do so, childe sits on the man’s right, you sit beside him while the traveler and paimon mirror you on the other side- well, paimon at least floats on top of the chair.

“allow me to introduce mr. zhongli, consultant to an organization known as wansheng… and a trusted associate of the fatui.”

“wansheng?” the traveler asks.

“indeed.” the redhead answers. “wansheng’s line of work can be… sensitive at times. let’s just say they understand when discretion is needed. and we, the fatui, have always been glad to do business with friends who walk in the shadows.”

“w-walk in the shadows..?” paimon shivers.

“it is an honor to meet you. i have heard tell of you from mondstat.” zhongli turns to you. “you as well, doctor, i have been meaning to arrange for us to meet ever since hearing word of you from childe.”

you’re pleasantly surprised by him calling you doctor for a moment, as no one has ever really referred to you in such a respectful manner. sure, childe and others have called you “doc” playfully but never fully doctor.

and then you remember who the title is usually reserved for.

“discretion… shadows… ah! is wansheng some kind of business involving… ‘dealing’ with people?” paimon panics.

“indeed. it is as you have guessed.”

“ahh!!” she screams.

“don’t worry, wansheng is a funeral parlor.” you assure her amusedly and paimon’s fear shifts to confusion.

zhongli cluelessly nods in affirmation. “the wansheng funeral parlor organizes burials. we ensure that those who pass on do so in peace.”

“e-eh?”

you hear childe laugh warmly from beside you, the warmest you’ve heard from him in years. “did you think he was some sort of hired killer? the fatui calls many such people friends, but the wansheng funeral parlor does not dabble in such business… well, ostensibly.”

“ostensibly?” you question.

“well, they are still- ah, i shouldn’t say too much. in any case, i brought you to meet mr. zhongli because…”

“because i can bring you to see rex lapis’ vessel.” the consultant follows up plainly.

“what?!” exclaims paimon.

“ha, don’t be so surprised. sure, the geo archon’s body has been squirreled away by order of the tianquan ningguang… but first, let’s hear what mr. zhongli has to say, shall we?”

how childe managed to hide such a supposed fatui associate, an insanely useful one at that, from you with all the snooping around you’d been doing is beyond your mortal comprehension. what baffles you even more is his unwavering determination to keep you as far away from the entire operation as possible, going against the order of your involvement that came directly from not only dottore, the very second fatui harbinger, but also the director of all of the fatui himself.

unfortunately you’ll still need to wait until zhongli preaches his tale before you get to strangle childe where he stands.

“rex lapis may be the prime of adepti, but he is ultimately an adeptus. many adepti have left us over the millennia- this is the inexorable trend.”

zhongli turns to the traveler. “the times have changed- you must have felt it too when you were at jueyun karst.” with the travelers confirmation, he continues. “as you have seen, the time of adepti is ending, and the time of mankind is slowly dawning.”

the dinner proceeds with talks of the rite of passing and as the traveler and zhongli become more well acquainted, they all agree to leave liuli pavilion and further discuss their arrangements.

“you can go if you want to, don’t worry about me. i might just have a few more drinks…” childe dismisses the two travelers.

“and me also. somebody needs to teach a certain other someone how to use chopsticks if we’re to stay in liyue for a good while.” you imply half-jokingly, grateful that the two get on their way quick so you can give the redhead beside you an exclusive earful.

as you feel your cheeks start to warm with the burn of the alcohol, you down decisively the last one of your drinks for the night and slam the cup on the table with vigor.

“am i some sort of joke to you?”

childe almost chokes on his own beverage at the suddenness. “e-excuse me?”

“actually no, let me rephrase that- do you think it’s funny to play around with the job i’ve been assigned here and purposefully leave me to wander around streets i don’t know like a bumbling idiot while you keep contacts like mr.fucking-rex-lapis-historian under your belt?” you practically bark.

“y/n, please, i think you might’ve drank too mu-“

“answer the question or so help me celestia, i will leave this restaurant with my hands as red as that stupid scarf of yours.”

the harbinger huffs. “alright alright! no i don’t think it’s funny to do… all of what you said. but i don’t think that’s fair- this is my mission and it’s been running smoothly since before you even got here. at least i thought it was until they decided to send more manpower with zero forewarning, do you know how insulting that is?”

“how is it insulting to have backup in case something goes wrong? that’s all i’m here for- to help, and ideally help with the investigation. but i can’t do that if i don’t know where the hell jueyun karst is, much less where else to go to look for clues.”

childe only sighs again, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “you’re right… i shouldn’t alienate you from what’s your assignment too. but let me keep up with my plan for now and if something goes awry, i’ll call you. i’ll fill you in on it tomorrow morning.”

you nod firmly- easier than you thought it’d be.

“now will you please teach me how to use these damned sticks?”

taglist ; @kentply

[racingliners]

So, in my many emotions at seeing these beautiful pieces by @aphrostiel, I ended up writing a ficlet about it (because how could I not indulge myself in writing the Seb and Schumi podium we deserved).

I may polish it up further and put it on ao3 for prosperity but I really wanted to just get it out there, I hope you like it!!

(Thank you so much to Jules for both their blessing to post this for for sharing such incredibly beautiful art!!)

Golden

The sun cast warm, golden rays in the widening breaks though the pale clouds as they walked out onto the podium together. Seb, being the young gentleman in training, suggested that Michael have his day and walk out alone. Michael, almost too overwhelmed to speak, insisted they walk out together.

They would both argue that Hockenheim looked beautiful no matter the weather, but today after a race that went from dry to pouring rain to dry again, it felt like no sight would ever come close to how the track looked right then in that moment.

Ross Brawn stood proudly on the constructors step of the podium, and was barely containing his tears as the German anthem was introduced over the tannoy. Seb couldn’t help it as he looked up at Michael, his mentor, his friend, and today probably the most fierce driver he had ever raced against, and watched as tears streaked down his face after the first few notes.

The Mercedes mechanics and engineers gathered below let out al almighty roar as Michael raised both fists triumphantly in the air at the end. There was something awfully poetic about him netting his ninety second win at Germany in a Mercedes, and the worlds press were already hard at work at their keyboards and notepads trying to figure out just how they could talk about the Red Baron’s triumphant return when no suitable adjectives really seemed to exist.

Right as the trophies were about to be presented, Michael clapped a heavy hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and beamed at him with a proud smile before fixing his winner’s cap back onto his head.

The crowd were beside themselves even before Michael was presented with the winner’s trophy – a 3D Santander logo that was painted with the colours of the German flag on in the inside but chrome silver on the outside. A fitting prize for a silver arrow. The sun glinted off the surface as the crowd and Mercedes team roared so loud it was a wonder they weren’t heard cheering for miles.

Sebastian, who still couldn’t quite believe that his childhood dream of sharing a podium with Michael had finally come true, accepted his second place trophy with a wide schoolboy grin. All he could think about was that day in Kerpen when he’d met Michael for the first time with wide eyes and a stunned smile. Seb was pretty sure that he was wearing the exact same expression on his face, and for once he didn’t care.

With the trophies presented, the dignitaries were quickly escorted off the podium and Seb let out a shaky sigh as he leaned down to grab the neck of his champagne bottle.

“Shall we get Ross first?” He asked with a cheeky smile. Michael looked at him with a familiar glint in his eye as he picked up his bottle with ease, and really he certainly was a professional in the art of spraying champagne as he popped the cork, jumped down from the top step, and ran over to Ross before the long-suffering Team principle had a chance to run away. The two men laughed as Ross was soaked through, and only when Michael was happy did he go over to the very edge of the podium platform in the hope some of the droplets of spray would reach his beloved colleagues.

Sebastian grinned as he sprayed champagne over Michael’s right side. Fernando, who had finished in third place eventually joined in and deposited the bulk of his bottle’s contents over Michael’s head.

When they piled onto the top step of the podium Seb gestured for Ross to stand between himself and Michael for the official photograph. Before he had a chance to respond Michael hooked an arm round his shoulder and pulled him in so they were stood side by side, brothers in arms complete with matching grins even if Ross still looked quite astounded with the events of the past two hours. Seb was still smiling brightly as the picture was taken, and when he took off his Pirelli cap to swap it for his Red Bull one, Michael reached over to ruffle his hair with a hearty laugh.

The crowd hadn’t relented in their cheers once, and they only hushed when Michael spoke during the podium interview. He tearfully thanked the crowd in German for all their support throughout the years – and especially since his comeback two years ago, before expressing gratitude just as heartfelt to his race engineer Bono for getting him to the end, and Mercedes head of strategy James for his cool-headed decisions that led him back to the top step of the podium once more.

He then turned to Sebastian, and looked at him with a proud smile.

“You know, I remember meeting a young kid in Kerpen many years ago, I never in my life thought I would get to race against him let alone for a race win. But we had a good fight, I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed racing against someone. I hope that we can do it again sometime.” There was a warm ferocity to Michael’s smile, not in the malicious sense but the kind of a true competitor. One that would never, ever give up without leaving anything on the table.

Seb said as such when the interviewer turned to him, adding that he knew going against Michael he would have to give everything, and while he was disappointed to lose the race he would always be honoured to say that he got to battle it out on track against his hero.

“Don’t worry Seb,” Michael said with a warm pat on the shoulder when they walked off the podium and back into the cool down room, arm in arm. “You’ll get your turn next year.”

Sure enough, almost exactly twelve months later, Sebastian took to the top step on the podium at the Nürburgring. Michael, now retired, apparently doubled up as a psychic. He sent Seb a text congratulating him on his first home race win, and in the week off between the races in Germany and Hungary he greeted Sebastian with a thumbs up and a bright grin when he and Hanna happily accepted an invitation to dinner at the Schumacher home.

Sat proudly in the living room, wrapped in thin white frames, hung two pictures from that day in Hockenheim. The first was of Michael with his trophy, the second of himself and Sebastian spraying champagne wearing the brightest of smiles. Mick couldn’t help himself when he asked his father and his friend just what it was like to race each other in such difficult conditions, and both Sebastian and Michael reeled off in great technical detail exactly how everything unfolded.

Seb couldn’t help himself as he glanced at the pictures as he left, the sun now set and the sky filled with twinkling silver stars, and he felt nothing but pride as he knew he would carry that day in his heart for the rest of his life.

[terrys-min-catl]

abuse mention warning! if you're bad triggered by abuse mention and cant stand statements abt post victims abuse. then please ignore this post.

you've been warned

little sketch to not just there to exist my river of consious I see that many people perceive the conclusion of the arc as wrong because of Kevin's words about his father. That he wants to be better than his father, but quotes him and forgives him. And I didn't see the conclusion otherwise. lets talk abt this

"Can a victim of abuse say something like that?" Yes. They can and will say. We all see only a way where the victim of abuse becomes a healthy unit of society and doesnt repeat the mistakes of the past But these are rather exceptional cases that we always want to see. Most of the victims become tyrants themselves, without even knowing it. The desire to be better alone and therapy is not enough, the victim of abuse, whether they want to or not, will accept the habits of their abuser, especially if they spend enough time with them. Stockholm syndrome has not spared anyone as much as you whitewash characters whose synonym for their name is "trauma"

Who will a child grow up to be in an abusive family? An abuser. Kevin was brainwashed into total Stockholm syndrome and forgave his father. That's it. As much as I would like to have a different outcome, Kevin will not be a good father. This is a terrible, morally disfigured cruel character from childhood. How can he be a good father? When was the last time we heard about Donovan on a podcast? And about Charles? When Cecil, in the gaps between the news, manages to cram essay on the topic of products, mentioning how much he loves his son, his creativity, behavior, as well as his husband. And most often it's all one episode, which shows how involved he is in the family, how much he appreciates it, then Kevin… It's as if he exists in a vacuum from it. Whether he is so punctual, or idk. Remember the arc with mudstone abyss. How did Kevin feel about Charles' son? He disliked him so much, he couldn't accept his existence, that he began to doubt his relationship with Charles when he put him in front of a choice. It was only after the boy solved the problem with mudstone abyss that he decided to give him a chance to accept. Chance. We can only guess how things went further. But given Kevin's nature, his ways of solving problems, his problems in principle, I don't believe that their family is equivalent to Cecil's family. Naturally, I also want to believe that Charles is teaching him to be a good and accepting parent, that their life is beautiful in its own way, but it sounds too beautiful and unrealistic to me. sorry

The victims of abuse (in any relationship) will never come out healthy, and they will not be healthy anymore. Abuse is cyclical and not many people manage to get out of it, and even then not completely

Do you think that Kevin, who survived the abuse, will just let himself go from the past (but already in the present) and will not try to start from the beginning, but under his own supervision? I think their relationship is going to be kind of weird, but I believe in their existence. I don't think he needs to mention strexcorp every time he says something out of the ordinary. I didn't see any other outcome.

And Kevin himself?. Well, I love Kevin, I'm so happy at every au where he's mentioned. I like to joke about his silly nature, I want to hug him, my comfort character (even after such statements) and etc. But I see this character far beyond that. I see him as a person who has gone through a lot of terrible things and is still going through these terrible things. This is a brainwashed person, a victim of abuse, who is an abuser himself. This is a cruel person who goes to his goal, who sees his path as exceptionally correct and does not consider other outcomes of events. He will grow his little self up to be like himself, as any other person would do if they had a chance

I'm okay with the end of the arc, because I can't imagine a picture where Kevin just lets go of the past, where Kevin abruptly realizes all his mistakes, where Kevin will change his worldview, where Kevin won't want to repeat, but on his own behalf The character of black and gray morality moves forward, seeing only one path in front of him, and that is already trodden before him

In conclusion. I liked the arc, again, I liked the end, again, but I think it's too fast. this arc could be made as long as the arch with the university what it is, even longer. Where were we in a hurry? there was so much potential here, but like hh (pls forgive me for such analogy), we were shown only plot episodes and a very fast crumpled end. The end is fire, the way to this end is so-so let's hope that the authors will no longer mention so directly and unilaterally such conflicting topics as "family abuse"

Maybe my thoughts are not quite right, but everyone have their own pov and thats okay

[fellfirst-fellharder-fight]

Round 2: Fight 6

Kotetsu T. Kaburagi/Barnaby Brooks Jr (Tiger & Bunny) vs James T. Kirk/Spock (Star Trek)

Propaganda under the cut!

Kotetsu T. Kaburagi/Barnaby Brooks Jr (Tiger & Bunny):

My silly little guys I don't want to rant your ear off but that dynamic can be agrued either way because they are rival to lovers 10/10 My favourite pookies

I could rant your ears off with the propaganda for Barnaby Brooks Jr. and Kotetsu T. Kaburagi from Tiger & Bunny but because tumblr asks have a character limit I'll try to keep it brief.

(Spoilers for Tiger & Bunny of course)

They're the definition of fell first x fell harder. Barnaby and Kotetsu are of the rivals to friends to lovers trope, they absolutely despised each other at first, but even when they couldn't stand each other they felt inexplicably drawn to each other.

Barnaby fell first, he was the first to feel something romantic for Kotetsu, warming up to him as soon as episode 3 (when they're deactivating a bomb and Kotetsu refuses to leave him behind on principle he smiles when Kotetsu isn't watching) but he fully acknowledges his feelings in episode 8, when Kotetsu takes a direct hit from a dangerous villain to protect Barnaby. This is seen in the post credits scene as he reminisces of the events of that day and smiles to himself alone in his apartment. When they have a fight in the climax of the first half of the season, the only way the conflict is resolved is by Kotetsu going out of his way to put his trust in Barnaby, and after the day is saved, Barnaby finally allows himself to smile in front of Kotetsu.

Kotetsu fell harder. He was in denial about his feelings for almost all of season 1; he is a widow, and through the series he is shown to not have truly grieved his wife's death, and as of season 1 he is not ready to move on and accept he could have romantic feelings for anyone after Tomoe (his wife), and he is also afraid to fall in love again and lose them too. During the second half of season 1, Barnaby is brainwashed and no longer remembers him, believing Kotetsu was the one to murder a person he was close with. Kotetsu tries everything he can think of to make Barnaby remember him, and when it doesn't work he breaks down (crying in front of another person for the first time in the show) and stops fighting back, he kneels down and lets Barnaby deliver the final blow to him...

Luckily for him, Barnaby remembers just in time! They can go back to pining hell!

But not long after (since the main conflict isn't resolved yet) Kotetsu is fatally wounded, which triggers the most fucking glass biting nail scratching absolute fucking insane Technically Not love confession in which neither of them say "I love you" but it's very clear for anyone with two functioning eyes and a couple braincells that it is indeed a declaration of love. I will link it down here so everyone else can suffer with me. https://youtu.be/CWizW_6AgQY?si=UNsyhF-yJX1bT78r

While not explicitly in a romantic relationship, the creators of the show have said the nature of their bond is "Up to interpretation", which (considering the history of the studio regarding gay relationships) sounds more to me like "Everyone here wants to make them kiss so bad but they'll cancel the show if we do"

Sorry if this was too long

(this would take up too much space so for the ver with images you can go check it out here -mod)

James T. Kirk/Spock (Star Trek):

Kirk fell first, Spock fell harder

[thefandomwritersblog]

Ghost of the Ten

Horizon Forbidden West

Hekarro x OldOne OC

Action/Adventure/Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 15

Part 3: Ghost of the Ten

~~

"Consistency is the true foundation of trust. Either keep your promises or do not make them." -Roy T Bennett

Hekarro grunts as he pushes through the foliage, his shoulders and arms burning from fighting against the thicket of thorns. Scrapes and cuts cover his skin while sweat sticks to him through the dense humidity of the night. With every step, the moist ground gives beneath him, soft enough for silence but firm enough to keep him upright. Occasional beams of moonlight penetrate through the canopy above and dance on his skin while a shadow darts quickly from tree to tree along the dirt path ahead of him.

He doesn't remember why he's here, chasing this formless shadow through the jungle. The only thing he has is a name that tumbles from his lips in a helpless plea.

"Tarrik!"

The thick vines wrap around him, binding him tightly to a nearby tree. He tugs and pulls, frantically trying to free himself, but only breathlessly struggles in vain. Moonlight illuminates a small clearing, revealing the shadow darting among the trees. A young boy turns to stare at him with an unnerving quiet in his eyes.

"Tarrik, please!!"

The silence is deafening. Tarrik turns and disappears into the dense foliage of the jungle, leaving Hekarro standing alone, howling out into the night.

~~

Dekka settled into the seat next to Hekarro, her bowl of food clattering onto the table, its contents steaming. At the sound, Hekarro's jaw twitched, eliciting a low grumble from him. She glanced sideways at him, her eyes narrowing. “I swear, if I keep finding you asleep anywhere else but your bed, I’m just going to tie you down to it.”

"Blood of the Ten, Hekarro."

Hekarro awoke with a start, nearly slumped over the table, a deep groan of irritation escaping his lips. His eyes were heavy from exhaustion as he found himself face-to-face with Dekka, who was standing over him with one hand resting on her hip and a smirk of amusement stitched across her features. The mess hall was still and quiet; the guards had either left to begin their patrols or were already at their posts elsewhere around the Grove. Rikka, a familiar Lowlander from the same village as Hekarro, hummed quietly to herself as she cleared up the mess left behind by the morning rush.

"It would amuse me to see you try..." Hekarro said with a small smirk as he looked down at his own food, now cold from having been forgotten in his tired haze. He shifted in his seat. "Any changes?"

"Victoria still refuses to eat." Dekka shook her head, worrying and creasing her brows. Hekarro cursed under his breath in frustration.

"It's been days."

"Short of forcing her to eat," she replied. "We can't do much but wait and hope, Chief Hekarro."

As much as he agreed in principle to the idea of letting Victoria make her own decisions about food, the thought of it churned his stomach. In the week since her presence was revealed to his people within the Grove, every time he or Dekka encountered Victoria, she seemed distant and withdrawn. Content to hide away in her room or linger like a wraith around the edges of the Grove, silently observing the passage of the Tenakth, or staring off at the empty space of Anne's Vision. The worst thing was that he didn't know what to do for her. She wouldn't speak with anyone—not Dekka, not Beta, or even him.

Hekarro let out a long sigh and silently reminded himself to take things one step at a time. "And what about the rest of the Tenakth?"

"It appears everyone is following your orders to steer clear of Victoria. Gossip is flying around, but it hasn't grown out of hand yet. Though I fear that won't last for long."

"What do you mean?"

Hekarro turned to watch Dekka carefully as she furrowed her brow. "A messenger arrived from Scalding Spear this morning. Drakka informs us that several Tenakth are making the journey to the Grove with supplies for their loved ones stationed here."

Dread filled Hekarro's chest as he realized what she meant; it was only a matter of time before word about Victoria traveled beyond the Clan Lands. Knowing well that he had no control over rumors, he ran a hand through his hair and silently prayed to The Ten for some modicum of mercy for his sanity in the future.

One thing at a time...

“Thank you, Chaplain.” Hekarro muttered, passing a weary hand over his face. The corners of Dekka's mouth twitched into a small smile as he rose from the stone bench and handed Rikka his half-finished bowl before ducking out of the mess hall into bright mid-morning sunlight. He followed the maw toward the arena and saw Petra, her eyes bright and her dark hair neatly tucked underneath a bandana. Her men were already busy at work, performing repairs and readying the equipment. When she noticed Hekarro, a wide smile spread across her face as she energetically waved at him from across the massive arena floor.

Amused, he watched as she made her way over to him. She huffed and puffed as she ran, laughter spilling from her lips with each breath. As soon as she reached him, she exclaimed brightly, “Morning there, Chief! How are you?

Hekarro dipped his head politely in greeting before looking out over the arena. He hummed softly in appreciation of their efforts. “I see you've made some strides since we last talked."

The Forgewoman responded, "Just about. We've almost completed the set-up of forges in the Oseram Camp near the arena. My team is working quickly to assemble the supports. I sent some to begin extraction at the quarry nearby for future stone work, and others back to Chainscrape to acquire heavy lifting equipment. The transport should take several weeks, but it's far more efficient than building the cranes from scratch. By that time, the arena ought to be ready for the new equipment."

Petra nodded excitedly, hands on her hips, as she too surveyed the progress they had made. “That we did," she said proudly. “Couple more days, and we'll have done enough to start fitting those steel supports I wanted."

"Then you have everything you need to begin the project in full."

Hekarro felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and the corners of his lips tugged upwards in relief. While he knew there was still more work to be done, Hekarro took solace in the fact that, as of now, the repairs were going as planned. The tired anxiety from earlier had been replaced with a flickering fire of hope. He met Petra's gaze and gave her a thankful nod.

"Your words bring me some measure of relief, Forgewoman. Thank you for keeping me informed."

"Of course, Chief," she replied with a nod. "You ever got any questions, you know where to find me."

He tracked her movements as she made her way back to the opposite end of the arena and started up his own ascent back to the rear corridors. Pausing at the overlook, he no longer felt the dread this view usually brought him. Instead, that small flicker of hope burned brighter than before, and followed him as he continued his walk. As he turned the corner into the passageway, he was surprised to find Beta standing outside a doorway with a curtain closed, worry lining her face and pulling tight on the constellation of freckles that speckled her cheeks and nose. Her hands were clutched firmly around a bowl of food.

“Victoria, please--" As she reached out to gently draw back the curtain, a sudden thunderous crack against the wall inside made her gasp and stumble backwards.

"Beta, are you alright?"

She look up and smiled weakly at him as he approached, a hand extended to her in concern, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm trying to get Victoria to eat... anything really. But she won't." Beta exhaled heavily and looked towards the door with a pained expression. "I'm getting really worried."

He felt a deep frown crease his face as he glanced to the door. His heart was heavy with worry, and Victoria's temper and angry refusal to eat only further confirmed his fears. He hated this feeling of helplessness; no matter how hard he tried, he had no idea where to start. Unlike him, she had lost everything: her home, her people; forced to live in an entirely new world that she didn't understand. He couldn't even imagine how alone she felt right now.

"Get out!" Victoria hissed from her bed, pressed against the wall as if she were a cornered animal.

“Let me take over from here, Beta.” He requested, extending his arm for the bowl. Beta gave him an inquisitive glance before surrendering it to him. He bid her farewell with a slight incline of his head and watched as she walked away around the corner. The bowl felt surprisingly weighty in his grasp as the other hand reached out towards the curtain, hesitating only for a moment as he tried to brace himself for whatever was on the other side. Instinct saved him as he entered Victoria's room; he whipped his head back, narrowly avoiding the rock that hit the doorway instead.

He disregarded her as he swept his eyes around the room, bisected by sunlight through the ruined roof and stretching canopy of the jungle. An oppressive sadness seemed to pervade the air, and Hekarro felt its weight on his shoulders. He had only been here for moments, but what toll had days taken on Victoria?

When he turned to look at her, her face was blotchy and red as if she'd been crying nonstop for days. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, flickering with the storm of her rage and sorrow. Her hair was disheveled and wild, her mouth pulled into a hateful scowl as her hand moved to brush it back from her face. And yet, despite everything, Hekarro could see she was struggling under the weight of exhaustion.

He tensed, trying to keep his movements slow and steady as he approached the bed. Her scowl deepened as he gently lowered and rested his knee on the mattress while holding out the bowl for her. Her eyes flickered downwards and a myriad of emotions passed over her face.

Hunger.

Sadness.

Anger.

Emptiness.

"You don't listen very well, do you?" Her question was laced with sarcasm as her piercing blue eyes bore into him, refusing to be ignored. Her cheeks were flushed in anger, her lips just slightly parted in exasperation. And he was left completely frozen, stunned by the sheer beauty of her wrath like a distant storm gathering over the western coasts. Chaotic and unstoppable, fearsome and breathtaking in its own right.

Finally finding his voice again, he replied softly, “Only when it suits me. Right now, it would suit me if you'd have something to eat.”

Victoria clenched her jaw and crossed her arms, her voice taking on an icy edge. "I'm not hungry."

Hekarro arched a brow as he stomach betrayed her, growling loudly in protest. A furious blush crossed her cheeks as her hands tightened around her waist, as if sheer force of will could silence its demands.

"I think your stomach disagrees," he quipped, trying to keep his tone light in hopes of lessening the tension between them. But Victoria only scowled harder, her eyes narrowing at him in annoyance as she uttered something under her breath and crossed her arms in defiance. Hekarro huffed at that, "I could always spoon feed you."

"You wouldn't dare."

He leaned closer to her, heard the soft gasp escape her parted lips as the storm in her eyes swirled like a violent tempest. “Are you willing to find out?”

Hekarro wanted her to understand how serious he was about this and prayed to the Ten that she wouldn’t call his bluff, but the defiance in her eyes shone bright.

"Try me."

Hekarro’s dark eyes narrowed as Victoria met his gaze. With a surge of determination, Hekarro moved quickly and pinned her wrists together using a single hand. She protested furiously but he ignored her - and his guilt - in favor of tilting the bowl to her lips in offering.

“Stubbornness will not help you here.” he warned quietly, watching Victoria intently as she glared into his eyes. She opened her mouth to protest once more, but grimaced as he tilted the bowl more. Despite her earlier fight, a small sigh escaped her lips as he fed her, steadily pouring mouthful after mouthful down her throat. Hekarro could see the frustration and defeat in her eyes as she reluctantly swallowed each bite. Guilt tugged at him once more, knowing that he was making her do something she didn't want to do. But he also knew that he couldn't let her starve herself.

It wasn't until the bowl was nearly empty that Victoria finally pulled away from him. She leaned back against the wall, tired but with a little more life and color in her face. There was a shimmer of tears in her eyes as she gazed at the distant wall. Hekarro turned to watch the door, gripping the bowl in his hands.

"I am sorry." He said sincerely, "I didn't want to force you, but I couldn't stand by and watch you hurt yourself like this."

"Why do you care so much?" She whispered, though he could still hear the venom in her question. "You don't even know me."

"That's true." He admitted, "But that doesn't mean I want you to suffer. Even if it is self inflicted."

"Why?"

“Sometimes it can feel easier to give in to the weight of guilt and regret,” Hekarro muttered as gazed to the wall opposite the bed. “Letting it pull you further and further away from shore like a relentless riptide until you have no choice but to let it swallow you whole. And even then you welcome the emptiness it brings, because its far better than living in a world with so much hurt in it."

He squeezed his eyes shut and fought against the overwhelming rush of pain that crashed over him like a tidal wave. He refused to acknowledge the screams ringing in his ears or the ghost of the intense heat gnawing at his feet. Instead, he focused on pushing down the guilt and regret threatening to consume him.

"No one deserves to drown like that. Not even you, Victoria." Slowly rising from the bed, bowl in hand, Hekarro he made to leave, but he couldn't resist stealing one last glance at her. He hesitated when saw her watching him with tears glistening in her tempestuous eyes. A fear and timid uncertainty; a vulnerability he hadn't seen since the night he shattered her world for the second time. He gripped the bowl tightly in his hand, gazed at the lonesome room she shut herself away in and exhaled a soft sigh.

"Will you join me on a walk later today?" The question caught them both off guard, Hekarro having no idea where it had come from, but he swallowed back the sudden onslaught of nervousness as Victoria regarded him warily. He could only imagine the sudden shift in her thoughts from being forcefully fed by him to now being invited on a walk.

"If you'd prefer not to, that's perfectly fine," he added after an uncomfortable pause, practically rambling, "You've been in here for days and I thought a change of scenery might do some good. There's a lake nearby that's quiet, and-"

"Yeah," Victoria said, interrupting him with a hint of surprise in her voice. As if she couldn't quite believe she'd agreed to it. Another moment of quiet followed before she spoke again, shifting on the bed. "Sure, I guess. Whatever."

Hekarro gave a subtle nod and exited the room, feeling a flush of warmth spreading across his cheeks that slowly turned into a soft smile. The sensation stayed with him as he returned to the mess hall and carried on with the rest of his day.

[jay-j-otter]

hey hey, do you mind sharing your akiyama headcanons? just saw ur tags talking abt how theyre dark and im very interested!!!! your fem ryuaki fuels me in ways i cannot describe and i havent even played dead souls FHKGJG and your tanimuras have my whole entire heart!!!

Oh wow first of all THANK YOU for the ask!! It's been only couple days since I've discovered I've had them disabled all this time so I'm very happy I noticed it before you found my blog (,:

I've already complained a bit on twt that when I've started to write down ryuaki headcanons, it prompted me to make a 35+ pages google doc with meta on both of them 😅 It pushed me to write more fun drafts tho, so all is well, but it won't fit in this post for sure ahbfght

But ofc, I will share a little about Shun specifically. (TW for implied SA)

Akiyama... I have complicated feelings about him, because on the one hand, he got betrayed by his closest people, lost all the standing in society and lived as a homeless person for a long time, and that's a big trauma to have. But on the other... He's got back up by a miracle, and now he's trying to recreate the miracle for others. He assumes the role of a judge for other people while himself being too young, too flawed, having black and white morals.

(In Y4 I downright despised Akiyama when he refused a loan to an abused woman on the basis that she didn't want to apply for sex work, but in the same substory gave some cringefail guy 4 chances to complete the test just because it was amusing.)

But I've just completed Y5, and it gave me lots of food for thought.

First of all, from what I see, Shun here was written (rewritten?) as a more sympathetic character. For example, now when it's implied that he's gonna make some woman "use her body" for the loan, it means he's sending her to work on the construction site. Well, alright. I'll take the bad taste joke over previous cases.

There's also an important quest when Akiyama meets his former boss, who not only initially fired him on false accusations, which started his downfall, but also married his ex-fiancée. And Akiyama finally admits that at first, he wanted to use his position as a loan shark to be selfish and to get revenge, but got disgusted with himself after seeing some humanity and principles in the former boss.

So, here finally comes self-awareness about his actions. Interesting tidbit.

Another big part of the character building we see now: when he is alone in Osaka, without Hana around, he's a complete mess. His new office is dirty, he barely eats some instant ramen and clearly just uses the place to escape Tokyo and the responsibilities he created himself. If in Y4 we saw him within his element, managing Elise and doing loan business (with a messy table because he's just soooo quirky and lazyyy \s), then in Y5 we get to see a bit of what's inside his head. And it's not pretty.

He's clearly distancing himself - from Hana and his new yakuza friends, because they have their own lives to care about. (Tanimura too mayhaps, but this is a separate friendship that I also like to talk about a lot)

Aaand he escapes to his ugly nook to have his ugly depressive thoughts. Can't let them witness it, can he? They'd lose all the respect for him.

At the same time, he throws himself into helping Haruka with passion, because that's the thing he actually cares about, for the first time in a couple years. (He also provides her with some much-needed parenting about the importance of being selfish, because, being raised by Kiryu, she's entirely too self-sacrificing.)

And suddenly - he's lively and energetic again, he's bouncing off other characters, he risks his life for what he deems right, he's helpful, organizing, charming. He's everywhere.

(But he's also afraid to acknowledge that he's got too close to people again. So he's ready to literally die for them and Haruka's dream, but avoids calling them friends, settling for "acquaintances")

Not much needed to imagine that, after everything settles down, he falls apart again. Because in his head he's never really needed or too important for the people around. They carry on with their life and plans. Such as Eri, Arai, Yasuko. Even Hana got fed up and left at some point, and has been keeping him at an arm's length since. (Good for her, that was unhealthy)

He's not only not that interesting, his trauma is "ugly" (by his self-admission). It's not heroic and it's very mundane. There's no clear villains to blame, like with Majima's torture in Y0.

It's just - waking up is hard. Akiyama can't see the point in much of what he's doing anymore. Money is just paper for him now, they might have bought him the freedom of choice, but somehow it didn't help. Even with all the financial help to struggling people he can't buy healing for himself. Most alive he felt actually was when he lost the money briefly in Y4 - it made him work to get them back again.

Now it gets a bit tricky, hence the TW.

I think that a lot of things about him actually make sense, if while living on the streets, he had it bad enough to the point of selling himself for food. Like, I don't want to make it into torture porn or downplay the traumatic experience of homelessness overall, but something for sure ruined him and his self-perception. That's why he's bouncing between playing a self-righteous entity and hating himself.

Aside from his crippling depression from all this being shunned deep inside and not addressed, there's the attitude about sex work I've mentioned he has in Y4. He is distancing himself from the situation yet again. A little bit of a trick to calm his mind: "If I treat it like every other job, it won't feel as dehumanizing applied to myself". And also: "Well, I was not above doing that! I was not too proud to do it! Why should anyone else be?"

Now, of course he doesn't want to subject his former boss (and, by extension, Eri) to the same hardships. Even though he is, actually, a bit of a cruel person.

So here's Akiyama in Y4-5. Not super pretty and kind of greasy, but nevertheless charming, gallant and crazy smart. Fighting and dancing and singing and networking equally well. VERY annoying, because he considers himself an expert in all things he read about even once (I also hc him eidetic memory, which makes it worse). And with every year getting more secluded and miserable.

That being said, fem ryuaki has slightly different tone even in all-fem AU because of gender expectations. Akiyama's upbringing for example.

I hc his parents seeing him as this very "proper" son, encouraging his risk-taking neurodivergent activity ONLY when it helped to build onto that image. They happily bragged about their son - with prestigious business degree, good banking job and pretty fiancée. But ofc, when it's all came crashing down, they didn't want to hear about him anymore. Nowadays they acknowledge his existance with some disdain, because they care about reputation more then about him or his wealth. And he has some "disgusting jobs, no respectable friends and no wife".

(It's all kinda complicated from both sides, mb I'll get deeper into it in fanfic that I'm writing)

(And forgive me for saying this, but fem Akiyama is more interesting for me to write in this narrative, because she needed to balance fitting "proper little quiet Japanese woman" with her loud banking career, and while she was always openly feminine, she was never proper or quiet "enough". And now she's "not enough" among actual living legends.)

Well, that's all I have to say for now!

I'm always open for further questions and discussions 😊

[mademoiselle-red]

TC chapter 7 reread thoughts

“A few more minutes cross-examination had involved him in factual accounts of Alec’s wife, Ralph’s girl friend, and his own partner […] Suddenly, for some reason, Reg dropped the subject in mid-air.” 🤣🤣🤣 Laurie, you are so bad at lying. Reg is like: ‘yup, definitely gay. No need to hear more about his made-up girls.’

When Laurie meets up with Andrew, he notices that Andrew is standing in “the same spot where Ralph had stopped the car last night”. Awwwww, I love how Laurie still has Ralph on his mind. And later, when Ralph calls, “Laurie was out of bed already, reaching for his dressing-gown. Although he hasn’t expected it before tomorrow, still the anticipation has subtly colored, and faintly disturbed the day.” Laurie’s been thinking about Ralph for the entire day 🥰, hoping, anticipating, eagerly waiting for him to call 😭😭😭

“Dimly he was aware that it wasn’t the loose talk at the party which was making him careless now; it was the dark confessional of the car on the empty road. […] Laurie was saying to himself that it would soon cease to seem so important, this discovery he had made that instead of accepting concealment as a permanent condition of his life, he had merely been enduring it.”

With Ralph, he has gotten a taste of what it’s like to simply he himself. And he is starting to realize that the relationship he has with Andrew is unsatisfying. Instead of complacently accepting that a chaste platonic relationship is the only acceptable form of love he can have, Laurie has realized that he can and do want more.

“It must be a bad time for him. A little sad, I expect, to meet someone who’d only known him in the days of his glory.” Laurie tried to keep before him the intrinsic kindness of this; but he was even more deeply aware than he wished to be of its unconscious cruelty. He said quickly, “[…] I’d found out that he saved my life.”

“How lucky you found out in time.” There was a helpless and painful silence.

First off, WHAT INTRINSIC KINDNESS???? It was an unkind, insensitive, and rude thing to say about a friend of your friend 😡

I’m glad Laurie immediately and instinctively responded to Andrew’s cruelty by telling him how Ralph saved his life 😤

But then Andrew guilts Laurie into feeling bad about the fact that Ralph saved his life. As if Ralph saving his life is somehow an affront to Andrew. Once again, like earlier with his mother’s marriage, Laurie is confiding in Andrew about someone important to him, and Andrew makes it all about himself and his own moral crisis over pacifism 🤦

And Laurie chooses to suppress his own feelings as to not upset Andrew: “We’ve had all this in principle. Let’s be sensible when something concrete turns up.” This pretty much sums up Laurie’s ostrich in the sand attitude towards Andrew. He keeps trying to dismiss the concrete evidence of their incompatibility and the concrete relationship he has built with Ralph in favor of the “principle” he is trying to follow with Andrew.

“It’s alright. About the only time you ever get to be alone is when you’re with me. I take it as a compliment.” Such a telling statement! Being with Andrew is the same as being alone! Poor Laurie 😢

“It hasn’t occurred to Laurie to have any conversation ready; one always imagined Ralph taking charge. Now, sensing at the other end a tentativeness at least equal to his own, he felt suddenly afraid of drying up. The thought of Ralph ringing off after a few perfunctory commonplaces came to him with a terrible sense of flatness, disappointment and failure. He hasn’t anticipated any of this. However, it was all right after all, and in the end they talked for nearly ten minutes.”

A few fan discussions I’ve read attribute the better quality of Ralph/Laurie phone conversations (and the success of their relationship in general) to Ralph’s skill. But what skill? Where is the skill? He’s just as awkward as Laurie here! Like I said in my post on the previous chapter, they manage to have a good time because Laurie makes an effort. He doesn’t just give up and wave a white flag across the distance like he does when on the phone with Andrew 😤

I think Laurie does not give himself enough credit, and has a tendency to attribute everything that goes well in their relationship to Ralph’s “skill”, and then resents Ralph for it. But so much of this “skill��� is the result of them both making an effort to make each other comfortable.

“When he got back Reg said, “You look better, Spud. Coming in just now you looked properly cheesed.”

“I think a nice girl ring for you, Spoddi”

He was dismayed to feel that he had blushed violently.

You know, Laurie has been going on all these idyllic “dates” with Andrew all this time in the hospital, but he apparently has never walked in from one of those looking like he does now after a 10 minute phone call with Ralph, with such obvious love and happiness written all over his face that Reg and Charlot immediately take notice and think a girl called him up 😏. I love how Laurie is so incapable of hiding his love for Ralph 😍😍😍

“Suddenly, as if memory had been kept in storage especially for this, he saw […] Ralph’s face against the background of the dismantled study. Ralph had been nineteen. He would have had a good laugh, Laurie thought, […] at the thought of a grown man in wartime making such heavy weather of so little. And, for that matter, what would he think of it now?”

It’s very significant that the memory of Ralph’s courage and the desire to become a person Ralph would respect gives Laurie the courage to act on his feelings for Andrew. And it is then pretty unsurprising that in chapter 15, without this faith in Ralph to support him, Laurie losses the courage to meet Andrew in London.

“Earlier today, during one of the current invasion rumors, Laurie had pictured an English Thermopylae behind the Home Guard road-blocks; amid the last-ditch grimness of this vision there had intruded a vague exhilaration, and he realized that he had imagined Ralph beside him. So, but much more so, it was now, and with this sudden comfort he found he had got to the door.”

I find it very touching and poignant that in Laurie’s daydreams and fantasies, Ralph is the person he imagines beside him. I’m reminded of the observation from chapter 15 that in the days and nights he spent with Ralph in Bridstow, Laurie lived each day as if the world would end tomorrow. He may not have made up his mind to live with Ralph, but he is willing and ready to die with him. Being joined together in death is the easy part (as Romeo and Juliet discovered). Living is harder.

I love how in this chapter, Andrew has become an interlude, as we the readers (and Laurie) eagerly await and anticipate the next meeting with Ralph, and the further development of their relationship

[seshaudio]

Reviving this tumblr page 10 years down the line, to post some updates on my upcoming Omnidirectional speaker project

In brief: I want to design and build a set of speakers that play high-fidelity, omnidirectional sound, for the primary purpose of running UK/Jah Shaka style dub and reggae sessions.

I'm currently most set on Awassa Sound System, but really like the relevance and cheekiness of Omniscience Sound/Hifi. I think Awassa has a better ring to it, and an air of mystique, even.

Here's a breakdown of the plan so far:

As for order of operations: Step 1:

Make a cheap and cheerful prototype of the MBL drivers. I just want to cut my teeth on the hardest part, to start building familiarity with the materials, principles, and manufacturing processes that will be involved in the build of the larger, final version.

If my friend who's into CAD and CNCing is willing, have him whip up some test lenses.

Use recycled drivers from old, cheap speakers as much as I can to keep initial exploratory costs down.

Find an active cossover unit that I can use to test different crossover frequencies with the different driver designs

Step 1 will be considered finished when I either have a working, not-awful-sounding radialstrahler, or have decided to abandon that aspect and am comfortable focusing on other methods for making omnidirectional sound.

Step 2:

Work on the other parts of the tower, namely the horn-loaded lens tweeter, the mid-bass lens, and the lower cabinet (lots of flexibility for internal design with the cabinet).

The cabinet (and maybe the horn lenses) will require learning to use a speaker simulation software

The bass scoops can come later, as there's not a lot of point building small/low-power scoops

As soon as I have a sense of what the appropriate crossover frequencies will be, order a custom dub preamp such as the RasFX Mini Pre

Get a set of relatively affordable power amps to drive the whole thing. 4 channels for a single tower to start with

Step 2 will be considered complete when I can gift (for cost of materials) a MK1 pair of these speakers to a friend of mine who's into sound system too - and of course build a set for myself!

Step 3:

Assuming everything goes smoothly in Step 2, work on scaling everything up. Size, power levels, etc. The rough goal is to be able to power a party with around 100-200 people. Maybe more, eventually

Try to figure out a way to be able to retain the functionality of a dub preamp for playing reggae, but also run the system in stereo for when I want to play

Build a set of scoop style subwoofers. The more, the bigger, the better!

Step 3, and thus the main body of the project will be considered complete when I have a fully functional, high-power sound system able to at least impress, though maybe not directly 'compete with', the current generation of younger sound systems like Indica Dubs, Ital Power, Creation Rebel, King Majesty, Sinai, and other such outfits.

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

Step 4:

If everything up until this point has gone very well, and I feel confident with the various technologies, try to develop the designs to a point where it can stand as a single 'totem pole' style tower that can play to a decently-sized crowd of people.

I picture taking something like that to e.g. Boomtown Festival, and decorating it in all sorts of wacky space-age or mystical art. I think the fung shui of a single, central sound source would be really unique in a festival setting.

The big barrier is that omnis, when places inside, rely on walls and surfaces to create the feeling of 'omnipresence'. Outside, I'm not sure that'd work at all, let alone

Step 4 being complete would inherently require my sound to be powerful enough, high-enough-fidelity, and well-known enough to be included when people talk about "well-established" sound systems. The totem pole thing is a bit of a gimmick, let's be honest.

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

Imaginary step 5: If my work on this project can inspire more people to think outside the proverbial speakerbox when it comes to building reggae sound systems, I'd be a happy camper!

[jenibearx3]

February Wrap Up

✔️ Books Read (7)

Girls Like Girls

The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country's Foremost Relationship Expert

Nightbitch

A Snake Falls to Earth

D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

Winter Counts

An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

❌️ Books Dropped (0)

✔️Girls Like Girls 🏳️‍🌈

By, Hayley Kiyoko

❤️❤️

🩸

OMG, the feelings I had while reading this. The will they won't they that pulled on my heart strings and had me anticipating every word. So basically, Coley ends up living with her estranged father after losing her mother. She's a teenage girl on the verge of adulthood, high emotions and tensions as she deals with lose and going from a large city to the middle of nowhere with a father she doesn't know. Yay… haha. Only for feelings to bud between a girl that she doesn't know will respond to her feelings, let alone just not hate her for them. After all, timing is everything when it comes to love. And queer love, that not knowing if they are queer too, that's even more intense. It was a wonderful journey that I just hoped that at the end of it all, that Coley ended up where she wanted to be. I loved it and it's what young love can be like, bittersweet, but gods, when it all works out, you melt. 

There is a bit of violence, as tensions run high, but for love, sometimes, ya gotta be a lover and a fighter.

And it's based off of her song, Girls Like Girls! Like, omg, it had me listening to that song with the same verve as when it first came out. I watched the music video all over with so much more to it now that I knew the fullness of its vision. Made me love it all the more.

✔️The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country's Foremost Relationship Expert

By, John M. Gottman and Nan Silver

❤️❤️

Marriage. People are constantly trying to figure what makes a marriage fall apart, but these experts try instead to look at what makes it work. It can be hard to look at the rubble and think about what could have prevented it. However, the answers can easily be found when you look at marriage that stand the test of time. They look at hundreds of marriages, and found what really matters time and time again. There isn't much queer representation, but that's the sad fact that there is just last of data since being openly queer is still relatively new. But the findings here are helpful for any relationship, since this is all about human connection and making a bond that last. It's a great read even if you don't feel like ya need it, cuz it offers such great communication exercises and practices. 

✔️Nightbitch

By, Rachel Yoder

❤️❤️❤️

🩸🩸

🔥

Oh this book, I wasn't sure where it was going, but damn did it leave me with that post book high I love. It starts off with every woman's struggle in modern day of having a child while also working. Sure she's married, a good husband too, and of course she adores her baby. Everything she's given up she's done so because it was her choice, but damn it all if she isn't losing her mind, literally. At first she tries to balance her art career and her baby, but something eventually has to give. So she stays home with the baby, and while she doesn't regret it she does struggle with it. Then her body starts to change, subtle at first but eventually it's clear she might just be changing into something unhuman. She begins to fear she's turning into a werewolf, and if that's such a bad thing.

What starts as a half joke, being called a NightBitch, soon turns into an acceptance of it, an embodiment of it. The first half had my feminist rage fire burning with fury as she loses her mind over being a mother in these contradictory times, in a society that was built against her in the first place. It made my blood boil and crave more. Then it turns softer, reflective as she starts to come into her own and find a balance. I loved it, start to finish. I may not have foreseen the ending, but I adored the journey none the less. It's avant-garde to say the least, and if you like a wild ride then I definitely recommend this book.

If you enjoy art, especially performing and interruptive art, read this book.

If you are a feminist, read this book.

If you are a mother, read this book.

I can't stop thinking about it and I hope you too can experience this post book high that I'm still coming down from. This is definitely going into my favorite books collection.

✔️A Snake Falls to Earth

By, Darcie Little Badger

❤️

🩸

This is such a cute book, really. It's something I wish I had read as a kid, a solid middle school book for sure. It was good, but I feel like it would have meant more if I had been younger. I love the Indigenous stories and lore woven into the narrative. They gave me information steadily and it never felt info-dumping or forced. 

Nina is a young Lipan girl who ends up in a lot more trouble than she asked for as she tries to unravel the last story her grandmother left her. And it also follows Oli, a cottonmouth kid in the land of spirits that is just trying to survive all on his own. Through each of their own journey's, they end crossing paths and needing one another. 

It had such fun elements that were a joy to read. There is some fighting, death is mention too, but for the most part it isn't too gruesome to recommend to younger readers.

✔️D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding 🏳️‍🌈

By, Chencia C. Higgins

❤️

🔥🔥

If you love MTV reality tv shows, then you're probably gonna love this book. Especially if you've always wanted one with queer people and real deal feelings involved. D'Vaughn and Kris each sign up as contestants on the show for their own reasons, but each is in it to win it. They basically have to convince their families that they want to marry this person that the family have never met before. Cuz technically, they just met themselves. If they can make it to the wedding ceremony, then they get the big bucks. 

The catch? They have six weeks to do it, haha. They may even be able to pull it off, but maybe that's because there is truths mixed into their lies. It even gets hot and heavy on their way to winning the whole show. It was a fun read, but if you're not into how shows like that work, it's kinda mid. 

✔️Winter Counts

By, David Heska Wanbli Weiden

❤️❤️❤️

🩸🩸

OMG, this is one of my new favorite books. It's an intense read that takes place on the Rosebud Indian Reservation. Virgil Wounded Horse is a local enforcer who's more like a vigilante for hire. He isn't the greatest guy, but he does his best to be there for his nephew. 

Then shit hits the fan real fast as his nephew is swept up in some trouble. He keeps trying to make the "right" choice, but the mess just becomes bigger and bigger as he tries to unravel it all. He struggles with who is, where he comes from, and with how he can protect his nephew. 

It's thrilling and intense as they work their way through the mystery that's been right under their noses this whole time. And there is some dark moments; violence, blood, guns, and drugs. But there is also some really good moments as he reconnects with his EX, does everything he can for his nephew, and finds himself again with the aid of his community.

Usually I don't like open ended endings, but the book couldn't have ended better.

✔️An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

By, Kay Redfield Jamison

❤️❤️

This is a short read, but it left its mark in me. The author struggles with her mental health, but eventually accepts that it is a part of her. She starts to look at it, really address after so many years of trouble it caused her. I related a lot to her as she told her story and it was comforting in an odd way. 

 How Much did I love it? (1-3 hearts) 

❤️ = Good 

❤️ ❤️ = Great 

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ = Loved it  

🩸 = Blood/Gore/Violence (1-3 Blood Drops) 

🔥= Smut (1-3 Flames) 

Interested in buying any of these books? Use my links Bookshop: https://bookshop.org/shop/JeniBearX3 

Libro.fm: https://libro.fm/referral?rf_code=lfm423461 

ThriftBooks: https://www.thriftbooks.com/share/?code=FTiPM3Y18izeoEgFmCIcfg%253d%253d 

Visit my Website for this and more information ♥︎

My poetry and short stories can be found on my Website/Blog, like my short story series Sad Girls ♥︎ Or hear them on my Podcast, The Second Door

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[writingdotcoffee]

#212: How to Turn an Idea into a Story

Thanks to dryadbucky for his question that inspired this post!

Ideas are weird. They come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Sometimes, you're standing in the street, and you get this odd feeling that it would be a great place for a story. A person walks past; it seems that they would make a perfect character. Or you're just sitting at your desk, asking a series of 'what-if' questions. What would happen if the human civilisation evolved to live underwater?

Sometimes, when you get an idea, it seems like that's the whole story. Then you sit down to write and find out how wrong you were.

Stories are 🔥

Think of stories as fire. Ideas are the sparks. But you can't start a fire with just sparks alone. You'll need a whole bunch of sparks and some flammable material too.

An idea needs to be kindled and developed into something that will satisfy readers. But what sort of flammable material do you need?

Story structure

The flammable material is story structure. To turn a bunch of ideas into a story, you have to have a good understanding of what makes a good one first.

Developing a story will be very difficult if you don't know what you're aiming for. It's like asking someone who has no idea how engines work to build a car. Every car is different, but they all work along with the same general principles. Story structure is that but for writing.

When you know why stories can be broken down into three acts and what happens in each one; when you're familiar with what makes a good character arc and what makes characters relatable; when you know how structure each scene, you'll be able to turn almost any idea into a story.

Learning story structure

This will take some time. It certainly took me a while before I got a good grasp of it, and honestly, I'm still learning. I've read at least a dozen books on structure, and I'd recommend reading more than one to get different perspectives from various authors. After a while, you'll realise that they’re all talking about the same thing from different angles.

My favourites include Story Grid by Shawn Coyne and Into the Woods by John Yorke, but there are many others that people recommend. Save the Cat by Blake Snyder, Story by Robert McKee, Anatomy of Story by John Truby to name a few.

Keep working on stories while you're learning the principles. Every time you get stuck or can't make something work, learn more about that aspect of storytelling. Maybe your characters aren't relatable enough? Or perhaps you're struggling with writing scenes? Or your story doesn't have a climax? There are many great online resources about storytelling.

How I do it

Here's how I go from a bunch of what-if ideas to a developed story. I'm not saying this is necessarily the right way to do it. But that's what I've got.

Step 1: Where do your ideas fit?

First, I want to take a look at what I already have. Do I have an idea for a character or setting? Do I have an idea for a specific scene?

The 'what if the human civilisation evolved to live under water' idea from above isn't very specific. There aren't any characters or detailed settings. It's more of a theme.

In this case, I'd do a little more world-building to gather more clues. Maybe there are two factions — one in the Atlantic and one in the Pacific Ocean? Each should have an ancient capital city. I'd probably try to make these factions oppose each other — maybe they're competing for resources? Maybe they're having a cold war situation going on? Any conflict that you can get will be a fertile ground for more story ideas.

Step 2: What's the climax?

I like to think about the climax first. The climax is the most important bit — that's what the entire story will be building up to. If the climax falls flat, your readers won't be happy regardless of how amazing the rest may be.

When you have the climax and resolution figured out, find ways to connect it to the other aspects of your story.

In this case, let's say the conflict between the Atlantic and Pacific factions develops into a full-on war. One side is about to destroy the other's capital city. If things go that far, there will never be peace.

Maybe the protagonist is a secret agent that knows that the conflict is actually stoked by a small, elusive group that wants to cause chaos and take control when both sides are weak. That's the twist.

The climax of the story would be a scene where they're about to nuke the city, but the protagonist just manages to stop it.

In the resolution, the two factions would start talking to each other, and there would be a pathway to peace or even reconciliation.

Step 3: Work backwards and fill in what's missing

I like to work backwards from the climax. What would need to happen for things to end up in that place? How does the agent learn about the conspiracy? How does the war escalate this far? Who are the people running the secretive organisation? How is the protagonist affected by the story — what's their character arc?

At this point, you can layer in subplots as well. Maybe the protagonist has a private life too? A partner that dies during the sieges?

And what's the story of the villains? Are they just straight-up baddies, or is there more to why they want to take over the two oceans?

Keep doing this until you have everything you need — from the inciting incident to the resolution. That's why understanding story structure is so important — you have to know what's missing.

Step 4: Iterate

At this point, I'll have loads of notes, lists, character profiles and whatnot. I'll also have a bunch of mind maps (those to help me think).

Sometimes, plot holes or conflicting ideas sneak in as I'm building the story up. Now is the time to fix those and clean things up. For longer projects (like a novel), I'll go back to some of my favourite story structure books to re-read some passages that I've highlighted to make sure I haven't missed anything.

The whole process feels like a balancing act. I’m rarely happy with everything, but I try not to get caught up on anything for too long.

Step 5: Create a list of scenes

Before I start writing, I like to create a detailed list of scenes from all the notes that I've captured — that's my outline. Again, understanding how scenes work and how to structure them will be invaluable at this stage (I learned this primarily from Story Grid).

Some will be easy to figure out (the ones based on your major plot points). Others will be a lot more work (some scenes will have to do multiple things — it’s a one big balancing act). The goal is to have a sequence of scenes that tells the story you want to tell while hitting all the right plot points at the appropriate times to make for a satisfying read. You may choose one or more POVs. Each scene should have a turning point of it’s own and move the protagonist either closer or farther away from achieving their goal.

For me, this is when everything I've learned about storytelling really comes together.

And then, I'll start writing.

Final Thoughts

There's no right way to do this. I'm sure other writers do something entirely different and create amazing stories. Storytelling is an art form. The tools and rules that we use are helpful guides, but if you can pull it off, you can do whatever you want.

Anyone can have an idea for a story. Your ability to turn that idea into a story is one of your core skills as a writer.

If you're reading this and wondering wtf am I talking about, that's ok. It can be pretty overwhelming. People go to university to study creative writing. It isn't something you can learn from a single blog post.

Keep writing, and do pick up a book on story structure. Don't worry if it doesn't all make sense the first time. There was a time when I had no clue what a crisis was, and now I do. If I could learn it, then you can too.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Radek 👋. I’m a writer, software engineer and the founder of Writing Analytics — an editor and writing tracker designed to help you beat writer’s block and create a sustainable writing routine.

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Past Editions

#211: Writing Every Day, September 2021

#210: Ed Sheeran on Writing, August 2021

#209: Good Writers Copy, Great Writers Steal, August 2021

#208: Write Like a Painter, August 2021

#207: On Being Stuck, August 2021

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[lazyliars]

/rp

Before I get into it, I want to state that is EXPLICITLY an analysis of the Characters, and is not intended to touch on how the cc’s played them in a meta sense unless specifically stated otherwise.

Also, this is technically a part two to my other post, which took a more in depth look at Techno and Phil’s reactions to Tommy’s death. It’s not necessary when reading this post, but I don’t address their reactions here.

So. The question must be asked.

Are we [the Syndicate] the baddies?

Yes.

The End.

 Why are the Syndicate the baddies?

They got damn logo is a wither skull.

The End.

That's not how this works.

Yeah, yeah. You’re right.

The Syndicate's goals as an organization are not inherently bad. They seem to have good intentions behind them, and the focus on the freedom of it's individual group members is important to remember when talking about it; It is not a government. There is no hierarchical power system. No one is forced to do anything against their will, or surrender any of their rights or power to remain a member. It is not a government.

I also want to address Techno and Phil backing Ranboo into a corner – I see them getting a lot of flack for this, but I personally do not think it is relevant to the greater discussion, or necessarily representative of any contradictions within the organization. It was clearly played for laughs, and after they back off they clarify to Ranboo that they won't force him. Then later when Phil and Ranboo are alone, Ranboo feels safe enough to express that he felt like he was pressured into it, and Phil assures him he is allowed to leave whenever he wants; He is not being forced to do anything, and he is not being coerced or blackmailed.

None of the Syndicate members have done any wrongs against each other in the context of the Syndicate, OR gone against any of the Syndicate's core principles.

That, said, holy shit are they the baddies.

Listen, there's trying to telegraph a meaning or message to the audience and then there's having your logo be wither skulls on blackstone. That is straight out of the skit I keep referencing, seriously.

Okay, but, they laughed at it! It was played as a joke, just like the Ranboo thing!

The Ranboo thing was improv, the Syndicate's headquarters were planned – the artistic choices that they made reflect on what role they want the build and the organization inhabiting it to play in the future storylines.

Wither Skulls kind of have some CONNOTATIONS. Techno is an English major, I don't think he chose the most threatening imagery possible on accident, and then joked about the way people would interpret it just to stir the pot. This reads as hugely intentional.

And beyond that, the jokes they make during this part aren't “haha yeah, we look bad but we're actually good!” they're “you can tell by looking at these that we're the good guys wink wink, this is good guy stuff right here :)” It is a joke about how they are definitely not the good guys. This isn't even a case of unreliable narrators, this is one step down from flat out saying the meta intent.

But okay, I hear you, I'm talking about things that haven't happened yet. The Syndicate hasn't used any Withers, they could be an aesthetic choice.  Lets look at what they do in practice.

So, they barge into private property, assess Snowchester's right to continue existing based entirely on their own ideals of what Freedom is, and then only once Tubbo assures them that they have no standing leader do they grant the place their approval to, and I gotta stress this part, continue existing.

 In my Quackity meta, I already talked about how Government in the context of a M1necraft RP cannot be compared to IRL Governments on a one-to-one scale. They don't serve the same purposes or have the same type of power. What I didn't talk about was Agency in the context of m1necraft governments.

In an irl government, if you are born into one, you can't really leave without committing a massive overhaul on your life, which can be expensive and difficult, if not impossible for many people. Even in a “benevolent” government, the simple physicality of where you were born can prevent you from leaving it easily.

The same hurdles do not exist in the Dream SMP. People who join M1necraft governments choose to. They want to, either at the beginning when they form one, or later on when they join up. So far, no Government has just Sprung Up and forced the current residents of an area to become dependent on them, except maybe the Eggpire, who's status as a government is... shakey.

And even when people want to leave or separate from the government, they have been historically able to do so without any trouble or any effort from said governments to stop them. Jack Manifold emancipated from Manberg. Fundy and Quackity both left to start new nations. In all cases they were allowed to do so without any attempts on the part of the governments to stop them, either through force, or institutions preventing them from doing so.

The most anyone has lost when leaving a government is their house, which is still usually their property anyway, and is something that is easily rebuilt elsewhere and is inconvenient to move anyway.

The only exceptions to this might be Schlatt exiling Wilbur and Tommy - but even then, they weren’t trying to leave, they were trying to get back in, and of course the original L’manberg revolution, where Dream attempted to force L’manberg back into the Dream SMP, which wasn’t even a government at that point in time.

I don’t consider Phil’s house arrest an example of a government forcing someone to stay a citizen - that was treated less as a matter of a citizen wanting to leave the country and more as a threat to national security. Still pretty fucked up, but it’s a different issue.

What I'm saying is, If Tubbo wants to create a government out in the middle of nowhere, threatening no one, forcing no one to join either through force or desperation, and allowing people to join willingly because they want to, then he should be allowed to do that.

The Irony of the Syndicate, a group of people consisting of some of the richest, strongest people on the server, going around and enforcing 'Freedom' that entails no one person having more power than any other, is absurd. 

It shows an extreme lack of self-awareness and/or self-righteousness, as they seem to think that they deserve to be the ones who decide what constitutes a government.

Snowchester is a small independent nation - they shouldn’t have to live in fear of being obliterated if they don’t walk on eggshells to meet an arbitrary standard decided by people who’s only authority on the matter COMES FROM THEIR PERSONAL POWER. No one elected them! No one chose them! They were not “approved” by the server at large to enact this kind of law.

The Syndicate are not a government, but they are an unsupervised power structure exerting their ideals on a land that did not ask for them. Like, These people have invented an actual Authoritarian-Anarchist faction. How the hell did they manage this?????

Back on topic.

Tubbo shows them the crater left by his nukes. The reaction is oddly positive – the nukes are fine by the morals of the Syndicate, apparently. I'd argue that they come across as more impressed than anything else; they seem to respect Tubbo for having gotten ahold of “real” power.

(There's a few good memes out there about “We can excuse nuclear weaponry, but we draw the line at Government!”)

So. By the Syndicate's standards: A single person or group of acceptably equal persons with weapons of mass-destruction are only worth “keeping an eye on” because they might provoke other people.

Like, I consider Project Dreamcatcher to be one of, if not the most morally ambiguous thing Tubbo has ever done, largely because it was all on his own initiative. He holds some culpability for The Butcher Army and Phil's house arrest, but they weren't his ideas and he was mostly following Quackity at that point.

And Phil tells Tubbo, IMMEDIATELY AFTER SEEING THE NUCLEAR CRATER:

“Looks like you've reformed a little bit Tubbo, I'm proud.”

And it's fine. Crimes against nature? Fine. A sign of healing in fact!! Tubbo is having a sweeeelll time and he definitely didn't make these nukes specifically in fear of being attacked by these exact people! Tubbo is doing great. Tubbo is doing fine. Tubbo. is. FINE.

Anyway.

I don't think this presentation of the Syndicate was an accident. Looking at the greater lore of SMP right now, after the Egg is done, their list of enemies is slim, and considering that they seem solely invested in taking down governments, that leaves maybe Snowchester, Kinoko Kingdom, and Eret and the greater Dream SMP.

Snowchester has not been shown to be corrupt, evil, or have any intent to go down that route. The most ambiguous thing they've done is, again, is the nukes. Other than that, it's pretty much your average cottagecore snow village.

Kinoko is presented in an even more morally 'good' light, Karl having founded it specifically for his Time-travel library purposes, which are currently being treated by the narrative as a selfless act, if not downright heroic.

Eret is also a fairly 'good' aligned character atm. He's been on that redemption grind since the og betrayal, and doesn't seem keen on backtracking. He's actively tried to leverage his position as king to make things better, and hasn't been quiet about that. He was also 'validated' by Tommy*, a character who has been described both by his allies and enemies as “the hero,” so take that as you will.

What I'm getting at is, all of the current potential enemies for the Syndicate aside from the Egg, are currently being cast as 'good,' and if they were to be attacked, they would undoubtedly have the moral high-ground, unless something drastically changed.

The only potential shakeups I can think of is are a Dream escape and/or a Wilbur revival, both of which could draw the Syndicate's attention and ire, depending on how things go. That said, it's just as likely that either or both of them would join the Syndicate – Dream still has that favor, and Phil and Techno both seemed to think Wilbur would've agreed with their blowing up L'manberg.

Both of those characters are currently **villains – the fact that they're both prime candidates for the Syndicate is a huge indication of the direction it's going to go as the plot moves forward.

((*I know some people are gonna come at me for painting Tommy as the “deciding factor” of what is morally good, so lemme just stop you there. I'm not talking about Tommy somehow having the 'right' to decide who is and isn't good, and definitely not the right to decide who should and shouldn't be king. I'm saying that Tommy, a character who the narrative treats as, if not a good person, then a person who is trying to be good, was in support of Eret, a character who has also been trying to be good.

Eret doesn't gain the moral highground because Tommy said so, he gets it because a character who the narrative treats as trying to do better, acknowledged Eret's earnest attempts at doing the same.

**I'm referring to Wilbur here as a villain because Tommy seemed convinced he would be if he were to be brought back. There is always the possibility that he's wrong.))

So, to summarize this: I read the Syndicate as being intentionally positioned as future antagonists, if not outright villains of a future arc. They are NOT a Government but their goals are contradictory with their means, and it is important to keep in mind that they plan to enforce their own brand of freedom on people who did not grant them either the authority or permission to do so.

So, uh. Can you tell I loved these streams? They were seriously so good. I kept switching between Ranboo and Techno's POV's trying to keep up with everything. I still have to watch Niki's!

All in all, I'm super, super excited for whats coming next, egg stuff, Syndicate stuff, Tommy stuff, all of it.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!