#No dick is ever worth that effort sorry

[sol-consort]

I INVITE HIM TO DINNER AND HE LEAVES ME ON READ??!! ON R E A D ??

[plethorawrites]

How I think the Batboys + Clark would respond to you asking them to "dress up" in some capacity for them in the bedroom like you always do for them.

"I'm always the one in lingerie, why don't you dress up for me for a change?"

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce: Will go for the most petty response possible, by keeping his tie on the next time you're intimate. Which, he meant mostly as a sarcastic joke, but found himself enjoying. You also seemed to be incredibly fond of it, tugging it in between your teeth or biting at it around his neck. When it was covered in your spit from all the biting, it eventually slipped off his neck and got wrapped around your wrists, tightened to keep you in place. And when you resisted it after a bit (lovingly, of course) he untied it, pushing it back into your mouth to muffle your sounds. Who knew a tie was so versatile?

---

Dick: Has no problem with complying when you ask him to dress up. None. You make a fair point and it's only fair he puts in some effort and he's secure enough in his masculinity to do anything you ask. This is the same man who went as discowing for a while, after all. A garter? You're foaming at your mouth. You want him to wear some sort of dress or actual lingerie? He'll have to buy it since yours definitely wouldn't fit, but he'll absolutely get something flattering. A bit of roleplay, to fit, if it was something themed? It's a given. How could he not fully commit?

---

Jason: Would roll his eyes, not because he's annoyed but because he thinks he'd look ridiculous and he cares more about worshipping you than letting you take care of him. That said, If you wanted something different, he'd do something different. The next time he comes home from patrol, instead of taking his stuff off and changing, he stays in it, making you take it off. The leather of his gloves twirling your hair as you unbuckled things, the feeling of your hands tugging his jacket off, is enticing for both of you. And by the time he's nearly fully undressed, you're both desperate. The helmet is the last to go. And it only does after he whispers a few things he knew you'd like in your ear.

---

Tim: Has no idea what that even means, honestly. It could be a joke, maybe. But better safe than sorry if not. Since he didn't quite know, he went with the safest option that could still qualify and wore a see through button up under his jacket, with his slacks for an event, letting you see it later that night. You seemed happy, if not a little frustrated for him having it on all night without knowing. Probably because if you'd seen him in a sheer black top, showing off his chest and stomach, you'd pull him into the bathroom and take it off right there.

---

(Aged up) Damian: Isn't entirely unused to flamboyancy in one way or another. He wore plenty of nice robes and wraps for the League of Assassins, not to mention suits for his father's events. But that was a normal thing, he supposed. So, if you wanted something different, he'd have to think outside of the box. He's always liked art, ever since he was young and even considered making love to be an art in itself, in a way. So, the next time you're in his room, tugging off his clothes, you're surprised when he's covered in henna, little swirls, dots, even flowers. It had taken hours, but was absolutely worth it for the look on your face.

---

Clark: Was befuddled, like he often was when you said that. He had no idea how to dress up for you, or even why you'd want him to. But when you guys spend a weekend at the farm and he catches your eyes lingering when he's working in the yard, he figures it out. When you're home, several days after the visit ended, you find him in overalls and nothing else, except for a cowboy hat, he usually wore to keep the sun out of his eyes. And it was fun, he'll admit, seeing you get excited. The hat looked much better on you, though.

[livelaughlovesubs]

so basically you know what would be really funny like just for shits and giggles here

fucking Nikolai in front of Fyodor (if Fyodors alive bcs it was planned blah blah blah Fyodors just alive for some reason) bcs our silly little guy did not deserve what happened to him in the newest chapter 🙁

JUST FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES HERE,

-🫧

For the giggles I’ll just say yes. But I can’t write threesomes (I could try, though I doubt my abilities) so let’s just say you recorded it, and told him you were going to send it to fyodor.

Also sorry not sorry to our poor pitiful clown man @me1z0

Dom!reader x sub!Nikolai x fyodor (?)

Reader is gender neutral :>

Warning: pegging (strap can be read as a dick), hair pulling, dirty talk, hand job, a little nipple play, recording

Nikolai was always down for anything and everything you proposed, his playful tendencies made him the experimental type. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with him, with his attitude, but it is very fun once you do catch him off guard. He doesn’t get embarrassed a lot, since he is very shameless, which is why you wanted to try…

“Nikolai,” you called out his name, hands on his waist while one of his leg was raised to his chest and the other thrown over your shoulder. “Ahh~ yes?” He was drooling as he smiled at you, cheeks flushed rosy and filled with heat. His eyes wield lust within them, as if he was the embodiment of lust in that moment. Then you pulled out your phone and proceeded to record him. The male who was so nicely spread out before you tensed a little, eyes curiously glancing at your phone. “Y/n? Are you filming me?” “Yep, so try your hardest to look good, Nikolai. I’ll share the video with fyodor later.” You explained to him in a satisfied and bright tone, practically grinning from ear to ear.

He blinked, he blinked twice more and then repeated your words, “fyodor..? You are going to show this to him?” His heart was pounding as his face turned a darker shade of red. Instead of answering him you just started moving again, holding his waist with one hand and your phone withe the other. This was a little tricky to pull off, but it was worth the effort. Every time your hips met his, his back jerked forwards and arched. “Ah! Ug-ughmm.,!” You noticed how his gaze changed. It was still one filled with pleasure, but a bit fear mixed with the excitement.

Your dick kept sliding in and out of him, it has gotten fairly easy to do so now. All while you captures his erotic expressions with your phone. No matter what angle though, the real thing was much better. His cries and moans were high pitched, as if he was cheering you on to do more. “Mhm!! OhhH, ah-Hahh..! Y/n, hu-ughh.” The little whines he let out were heavenly, the more beautiful voice you’ve ever heard. Despite the sudden addition of the phone, he seems to have recovered already. Those mesmerising cries of his only increased in volume, you couldn’t help but comment, “trying to put on a good show for your dear friend?” He threw his head back, then faced you again with his tongue sticking out, “yeeesh, mhm~ ahhHh, gAahH.”

Since both of your hands were busy, and you had to record him properly, you couldn’t play with his body some more. That shouldn’t become an obstacle for you, so you ordered him to touch himself, “come on Nikolai, play with your nipples and touch yourself. I’ll record all of it~” as if possessed by a spell, he instantly followed your orders. One hand now pinching his chest and the other one jerking himself off. Soon the pleasure was getting overwhelming, sweat was covering his body and tears started to roll down his cheeks. “MhmMM! UghHh, mhmM-…!”more and more vulgar sounds spilled from his lips. His long white hair was open and it stuck to his skin, it didn’t want to part. You changed your pace to a faster one, rubbing your dick against his insides. It was a subconscious decision, after seeing that slutty expression of his you couldn’t help yourself anymore. All you wanted was to ruin this man.

Then you wrapped the hand holding the phone around his leg, the one that was still placed over your shoulder. It was now resting in your elbow, and you leaned down to get closer to him, raising his leg to his chest. He stopped playing with his chest, the hand was now thrown around your neck to hold you closer. The phone was basically inches away from his tears ridden face, capturing every single whimper and groan from him. “How do you like this, Nikolai?” You asked him, smirking behind the camera. Right now he looked no different than a whore, eyes half lidded and rolling to the back of his head and tongue sticking out with drool rolling down his chin. To be honest you weren’t even sure if he could understand you, especially if he can give you a reply. He did open his mouth, but only a series of the most pornographic moans were to be heard, “GaAaHHH, ahHh-mHMM~!! Oh-ohHHHnNn..”

“Good- so, ahHHh, oh-uHHmm, I loOOove- it!! Do-dos- mhm, kuuun” With great efforts he managed to gasp out some pieces of a sentence, hoping you’d understand him. At this point his mind was blank, filled with nothing but the bliss and ecstasy you brought him. He didn’t even care that his dear friend was going to see all of this. Who knows, maybe he’ll be jealous even? You couldn’t help it anymore, this pathetic sight of his was too amusing. “Great answer.” He heard you say, this seductive voice of yours paired with those sugar sweet words send him into a twirl of emotions. As if something inside him snapped, he felt his stomach tingle and the rush of blood. Nikolai tried to quickly warn you about it, panting and shaking as he said, “I’m cloOOse ..! AhhHh, so mHMm, closeee!!”

This was going to be a nice shot, you thought as you encouraged him to continue. “Go on, pretty boy, show me your expression while you cum.” With the last bits of strength you have left, you fastened your pace again, watching his eyes flutter and his member twitch. The amount of precum coating his abdomen was amazing, it looked really lewd. But everything pales in comparison to the face he pulled as he came. “aaAAhHHHMM!!!” wave of thick, white load shoot out of him, coating his hand and your stomach with his body fluids. You slowed down after he came, giving him a short break while you stopped the recording. About whether or not you will actually send it to fyodor, you can decide on that later. His chest rose and sunk the entire time, he still hasn’t calmed down from his high. You didn’t want to let him too, so you soon changed the position, now turning him onto his belly. He was too breathless to talk, and you speculated that he must have lost his voice. Doesn’t matter, because soon you’ll turn your speculations into reality. With a gleeful smile, you whispered into his ear, “Let’s make a second video”

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐌𝐞 🔞

You thought you knew he only wanted sex. He thought you knew he wanted love. Who's gonna break first- and who's gonna pick up the pieces?

Tags/Warnings: PWP, messy sex oop, emotions, hurt & Comfort, major angst, minor manhandling, multiple rounds mentioned

Length: 2.3k words

A/N: someone send help I can't write smut no more I'm sorry

━━━━━━━━━━.~°💔°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

In the beginning, it wasn't supposed to be like this. Really- it wasn't.

Jungkook and you had been nothing but friends, casual ones that would mostly text and sometimes meet up for the odd takeout and drink at either his place or yours. And then, one day, it really kind of just.. happened.

For you, it was clear that he didn't mean it in a sense of 'hey, I love you' because he litereally told you so straight up the next morning. He'd stood up, got dressed, thanked you for letting him stay over, and made sure to tell you that this wasn't him confessing to you in a fuckboy'ish way or anything. That he was totally 'cool' with just staying friends and nothing more.

You had laughed it off. Had said almost nothing. You just took the hit silently, and let him walk out of your apartment, only to have him return a week later.

And the same happened again. You ate, drank, and end up having sex- and while this time it had been on the couch instead of your bed, it still turned out the same the next morning. He'd leave, thank you for staying over, only to text you a few days later if you wanted to hang out at his place.

And there too, he'd end up with his dick inside you. His bed had been comfortable, even if he lacked pillows for some odd reason. It was still nice. And this time, something was different.

This time, it was you who thanked him for letting you stay over, before you'd left.

The same game, simply with reversed players. Nothing new- it just looked like it. And now, after a year of playing this, you're yet again entangled with him in his bed, though he actually owns a few pillows now after noticing your complaints about his lack of them. You slept in the same bed after all, whenever you'd stay over- and while he hoped you'd at some point at least try to cuddle up to him, use him as a pillow, you hadn't. You'd rather accepted the sore neck you'd get the next morning, instead of showing him any kind of domestic affection outside of sex.

And he's not sure how long he can take it.

There's only so much he can do. So much he can offer. So much he can sacrifice for you.

He's unable to keep his hands to himself, uses them to push your wrists into the mattress below instead as he clenches his jaw, grits his teeth under the pressure of his own muscles aching already. He doesn't know how far he needs to go, how hard he needs to fuck your brains out so you understand that it's him who's making your mind spin. Him who wants to offer you so much more than just his dick down your throat or shoved inside your cunt. He could give you so much more than just purple marks on your skin, could give you a lot more lasting things than just a fleeting bruise.

You just won't let him.

And its agonizing.

He doesn't know what to do at this point to show you what he wants, because your eyes are always closed, no matter what. If not physically, then mentally- you don't ever look at him, never see him, all while he can't look away, has to watch every breath of yours. He knows he's not a perfect guy. He's got his flaws, a lot of them, but that can't be the reason you just won't love him.

Because in your touch, in your kisses, in the way you cling to him, he can feel it. It's not just lust and desire that's making you feel like this, he knows that. He just knows- but you act like there's nothing.

You pretend nothing is going on, you just keep your hands over your eyes and never spot the way he kneels in front of your feet, offering his heart clawed straight out of his chest. As if what you do is nothing but a stale job to get done, something not worth much more effort than necessary. A normal 9 to 5 that pays the bills.

And if that's what this is, he wants to be fired.

Because he surely isn't able to quit on his own.

But that's the thing- every time you give him the chance to leave, he just can't let it happen. And neither do you stay away from him for long either. If he doesn't reply to a message you send him for more than a day or two, you'll call him, worried tone in your voice while asking if he's alright. And it hurts, because he feeds off of those moments every single time like a drug addict, wants and needs your attention and has started to ignore you just to get that reaction in return. He knows it's cruel, that at this point you're more than toxic towards one another, but he needs you.

And it's clear that you need him too- you just refuse to admit that.

"Jungkook-" You gasp out when he pushes himself in deep, arms growing tired from the by now third round of lovemaking he's tied you up in. But he can't stop- he doesn't want to. The moment he's done with you, the moment he lets go, you'll leave.

And tonight, he can't handle that. Tonight is his breaking point.

"Jungkook I can't-" You start, but he instead leans back on his heels, pulls your legs over his thighs, before he pushes his length that had slipped out back in, hips lifting before he gathers the last ounces of strength once more. A hand on your cunt spreads the mess he'd made with you around, thumb pressing and circling over your red and swollen bundle of nerves, pushing you towards one last peak with him.

He knows it's ending. He can feel his muscles burn.

So he uses your limp and pleasure-paralyzed body to his advantage, as he moves his hands to pull your back towards him instead, having you sit on him instead, his arms around you, your face in his neck. He hisses a little at the feeling of your hand tugging his hair, the other scratching his back for just a second, as you spasm once more, core clenching around his by now painfully sensitive cock.

His last orgasm is empty, he's got nothing left to give-

and he notices the way you both shiver, just not from the cold.

And if this is the last time, he wants to be stupid- he wants to be selfish, and he wants to at least pretend for a moment while you're still out of it that he's got you. That you want him even if you're not just fucking.

His lips kiss the salty skin of the crook of your neck, up to right underneath your ear, as he leaves his head there, breathes in your scent. His arms hold you close, length softening inside you, cum and arousal leaking and causing a weird slippery sensation on the skin of his thighs. And then, you try to move. "Don't-" He mumbles, voice hoarse. "..not yet."

You're quiet, feeling a bit panicked. You need him to let go of you, right now. Because the way his hot breath fans over your skin, the feeling of his arms hot around you, the sensation of his body so close is making you delirious. It's causing your fucked up brain to come up with dangerously domestic scenes of a post-sex shower with him, where you both fail to stand up for long enough to get yourselves clean, so you have to rather take a bath and laugh about the trembling of your muscles as you somewhat clumsily make yourselves at home in the warm soapy water. It creates a dream where you sleep next to him tonight, only dressed in barely any clothes so you can feel as close as you can throughout the night, his heavy body clinging to yours at some point, raspy voice greeting you with a good morning the next time you both wake up. It paints a picture of breakfast together, of a playful argument with him about the muscle ache you both have from the excessive amount of lovemaking you both just did.

But it's not lovemaking. You two simply fuck- you don't make love.

"Jungkook, I'm all gross-" You whine, trying to push him, when you suddenly feel it as he holds you even tighter, face resting on your shoulder. He's shaking, but not from the exhaustion of his muscles.

He's crying, quietly, trying hard not to have you notice.

It confuses you. You're not sure what to do, so for now, you just lean into him, rest your own head on his shoulder, and interlace your hands behind his back as you relax. "Don't do that.." He suddenly says, shaking his head and leaning away from you. No you're definitely confused. "I can't.."

"Jungkook what's wrong?" You ask, as he takes in a deep breath to calm himself, hands wiping his face almost aggressively. "What's going on?"

"You should go shower now." He mumbles, not looking at you as he cringes a little when he finally slips out of you, sitting on the edge of the bed, before his hands rub his arms, muscles probably aching already. "Do you need me to drive you home?" He wonders, and you just sit on the bed, watching him.

It's silent, for a good while, until he finally turns a little to look at you.

And you've never really seen anything that physically hurts you so much as his face in this moment, heart dropping down towards hell, ice cold shock running up your spine at the pure exhaustion on his face. But it's not physical exhaustion you see. No- whatever it is, it's something else.

"Jungkook.. talk to me-" You try, but he scoffs, shakes his head.

"I don't want to." He denies, getting up to walk into the bathroom, where he turns on the lights and starts the shower. You feel oddly small in his apartment, weirdly out of place as you look around, surroundings unfamiliar now that you actually look at them. Have you ever really looked at his apartment? Or just the ceiling at max?

Then again, why would you? Jeon Jungkook doesn't do relationships, and you know this because he told you. Numerous times. So why is he so distressed today?

When he walks back out, you quietly wobble into the bathroom yourself, get clean and get out once more to see him already changing the sheets, angrily throwing the soiled one's to the floor. It's clear that something's off this time, and you're at fault- but you're not sure what you've done.

So you just sit down on the floor with crossed legs, butt cold on the ground since you're only wearing panties and a shirt of his you found.

"There's sweatpants in the hamper. They're clean." He mumbles, not sparing you a glance. "You can wear those. I'll drive you home in a second-"

"I don't wanna go home." You say, making his movements stutter.

"What?" He turns towards you, eyes all puffy from his earlier emotional break.

"I don't wanna go home." You repeat. "Not until you tell me what's wrong." You say, and he shakes his head, pulling the bedsheet over the mattress, groaning angrily when it slips up on another corner, undoing most of his work. You, instead, laugh a little, getting up slowly to walk over and help him.

He sighs.

"Why do you want to stay?" He asks, and you look at him as he braces his hands on the mattress, not looking up at you.

"Why do you never want me to stay?" You ask instead, and his brows furrow in confusion, as he finally looks up.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He asks, genuinely confused. "You're the one that always leaves the moment I'm done with you." He accuses, and you stare at him almost offended.

"Excuse me?" You scoff. "Who leaves me while I am asleep after almost breaking my bed twice now?" You argue.

"You didn't invite me to stay, like, ever!" He barks back, now standing to full height again, staring at you.

"Well boohoo, didn't know the prince himself needed a formal invitation to stay in my bed after I sucked his dick!" You huff, crossing your arms.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He asks, and you open your mouth, offended.

"No, what the fuck is your problem?!" You respond back, before both of your faces relax visibly.

"I always wanted to stay. I just didn't know if you wanted me to." He says awkwardly, and you sigh, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt you're wearing.

"And I wanted you to stay, but I.. you said you don't do relationships and all that, so I didn't want to seem clingy." You mumble. "I rather, you know.."

"...took what you offered and never asked for more.." He continues.

"..so I would at least not lose you." You finish, and you both stare at each other for a good moment-

before you both break out in tearful laughter, falling into bed together-

for the first time, actually holding each other throughout the night, and many more to come.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°💔°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

[gamblersdoll]

I think about Guts resting under a tree after a battle, and in the lake in front of him, a naked reader bathing in the lake’s water, So he can't help himself

nsfw, shy reader

I ♡ u 🤭

masturbation (m) , blowjobs, guts is a little feral in this so. guts point of view.

i have to lay down, somewhere, somehow.

maybe i did overdo it this time. i never realized how much swinging or effort it took to swing this sword around. yet, it feels like i accomplished something from it. yeah, i did— i protected her. i protected the love of my life. the strongest woman i knew– no, the woman who made me feel like i was worth something.

my eyes look up, finding a large tree. shit, thats a big ass fuckin’ tree. but it can work. i feel myself lay against it, my muscles finally getting the rest they probably deserve. i look to my missing arm, the bionic metal replacing it. fuck, ill have to fix it or some shit. my eyes can close, finally.

a rustle of water is heard, what the fuck was that? my eyes shot open, looking over and around the entirety of the landscape. not this shit again, i just sat the hell down and im still being bothered—

oh, its you—

the water ran down your body, fuck. you look too damn good right now. can i even stand? well shit, did you even know i was here? probably not.

did the water feel warm, beautiful? i hope it does, the way your body just relaxes into it. and the way you let the water run through your hair, you look like a goddess, beautiful. never seen anything like this, at least not for a long while.

fuck, now another muscle is aching. all because of you. first i protected you, now i want to fuck my fist just to see you wash your body.

and it seemed like the water had some type of effect on your skin, it looks like your own worries or ponders washed away when the water hit the curve of your back. please— please dont moan like that.

my arm moves on its own, pulling my cock– the cock i wanted inside of you out, slowly but tightly pumping the length. shit, i need you. needed you all the fucking time. dont you know that? probably not. sometimes you werent the brightest color of the flowers, yet you were still the most beautiful, and elegant one.

shit!—

“oh shit—“ you hurry to get your clothes, but i waved my hands, hoping you wouldnt. “im sorry, i didnt see you..” its okay, my beloved.

my lips crash to yours, hand and metal curving around your body as it feels too good to even pull away. your small hands, fuck were they soft and tiny, they curved around my neck. please, please keep touching me.

your smaller body kneeled to me. did you ever know how fucking attractive that is to a man? seeing the love of his life kneel to suck his cock? you women didnt know how much that can please a man. a man that loved you would know. fuck!

your lips wrapped around my cock, sucking around me as i gripped your hair. was this too tight, no, you wanted me to grip harder, thats what you told me with a mouthful of dick. shit, keep going. fuck, keep stroking me just like that, baby.

my balls are so fucking tight. you can probably feel them, the way you fumble with them in your hand. you will never know how good this shit feels. fuck, i wish i could repay you. fuck, thank you for this shit. keep going justlikefuckinthat, yes, oh god— shit yes!.

did i taste salty or bitter to you, my beautiful woman? i hope i didnt. i probably did, since i never did eat much. plus, i did just come back from fighting an apostle. what—

no way in hell you just swallowed my seed. shit.

my lips crashed onto you, my tastebuds curling up. shit, i wasnt bitter, yet i was salty. ill fix it for you, my sweet woman. our bodies, naked, feel the warmth of our own and the large body of water. i want to make you feel good yourself, without having to drop my cock into you. but god, was it hard to not do that.

[tht0nesimp]

Expectations

tw: kidnapping, pet play, this is actually half baked, punishments, shal being a dick, infantilism

A/N: this is for @high-bats-writing! Sorry this fic is probably going to be really crappy! (P.S you should totally go read the inspiration for this post < https://www.tumblr.com/high-bats-writing/746620115972440065/happy-easter-hiiii-in-the-headcanons-you-did?source=share

Out of everything you’d been tested with by him, this took the cake, it took the whole fucking bakery.

you’d handled everything he threw at you but this was simply too much, spending years trying to stay away from everything trackable was hard but knowing it was all just in vain because you were nevertheless trapped in his hands again? The knowledge of knowing your efforts weren’t worth anything in the end was devastating.

“Smile!” His cheery attitude becoming a frown when you used your—thankfully free—hands to shield your face from the camera he had in his hands

“It’s fine, I guess, we’ll have plenty of time to get a photo of you in there after all! Won’t we?” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when he spoke, encouraging your silence as he continues “you escaped for 2 years? How long do you think I should keep you in there?”

normally you would avoid showing weakness to him, but you couldn’t stop the widening of your eyes “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done what I did” he tilted his head “You don’t have to be sorry, you showed me your true colors!” He chuckled

As he placed a dragging finger down a bar on the cage, you shuddered; quickly finding purchase under one of the plentiful blankets in the cage, one thing you couldn’t complain about was the near suffocating amount of warmth in the normally cold house—well, cold from what you remember from 2 years ago…

Alas, the blankets didn’t protect you from the hand that found your head. Petting your hair reminiscent of petting an animal after it did something silly, something stupid, but something endearing enough to make its owner remain entertained.

And you suppose that may be what he sees you as at the end of the day, a shivering animal used to biting to show affection. Used to having to weakly fight, the only real difference being that your owner in this situation had no intention of saving you

He kept his eyes focused on you, seeing your foot brush against the bowl at the bottom of the cage seeming to remind him “I told myself I’d make you beg, but we can start that tomorrow along with your reeducation. I’ll go fill that up”

he disappeared for a brief moment, before returning with the small bowl full of water, making you reluctantly remember the leaky faucet in the kitchen, wondering he’d ever fixed it like your told him to.

The smile that graced his feature when you saw him crush some form of pill into the clear surface of the water was incriminating alone, but looking at the small off-color dissolving particles in the water was enough to deter away your want to fix the aching thirst in your throat in the moment

Even as you expected some type of negative reaction from your apprehension, he just kept talking. Seemingly excited at getting the chance to act out a fantasy especially after losing you for so long.

his words only proved to spur on a waterfall of unfortunate thoughts, melancholy and upsetting, as they flowed through your mind; wanting to overflow into something more.

“Why are you drugging me?” The words came out weaker than what you might hope, almost dying on your tongue. “Not drugs, just vitamins since I don’t plan on feeding you all too much while you’re down here. Lest it’s like an animal, animals have to work for their food!” He clapped like a child at the zoo “but I don’t want you to be malnourished”

Comfort was never his strong suit, but in the moment it seemed believable enough to allow yourself to indulge in the clear liquid resting in the bowl at the bottom of—dare you say it—your cage

you took a sip of the water, diving your head down as you figured he might not have a great reaction at you trying to pick it up to drink it.

you struggled to drink a sufficient amount, settling for the small sip you were able to get from the bedazzled bowl, almost grateful you hadn’t noticed the “disobedient slut” in pink rhinestones on the front up until you pulled away due to your slight frenzy.

“You’re a natural” he muttered under his breath, getting a quick photo before his phone rang “must be troupe work! Be a good doll and stay right there for me”

you just hoped he wouldn’t be gone too long, after all, 2 years is a long time to spend alone.

Shal chuckled when he heard the slight sigh that left your chapped lips when he left the room, 2 years is a long time to spend alone, and a maddening time to spend with a monster—especially one like him.

[polyklok]

Omg omg i love your writing!!! No words can describe how much I love it!

Imagine muderface with a s/o or crush that says the weirdest stuff, like some stuff that they have been through. It is so random! Like those tik toks that say "the Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do is die" in the most randomest of situations.

Like imagine just chilling out doing nothing and y/n looks over at muderface and says "would a zombie apocalypse be a formal event? Like your buried in your best clothes?"

It woukd very so cool if you could write something for this but if you don't want to that's cool!

Just wanted to share my thoughts. No one I know watches Metalocalypse.

Thank you!!!

Have a wonderful day or night!!

(I didn't really check my grammar or spelling that well, I am sorry)

Murderface with an S/O that says ~random~ things!

“The color is actually named after the fruit.”

You baffle him daily. He never asked to be spoonfed random trivia, shower thoughts, or absurd hypothetical questions. And yet, here he was, eating it all up.

When William was first met with your verbal hijinks, he was just so, so confused. Why did you know this? Why were you telling him this?

“What?”

“Orange. Like, people just described the color as yellow-red or something before the orange fruit was spread around Europe and they got a new word for it. The color is named after the fruit.”

“…Okay???”

For a while, he thought you were trying to give him clues about something. He was just extremely suspicious of you. Like, surely there had to be a reason behind it, right? Well, no, and he soon just found it was a quirk of yours.

He was always told to shut up whenever he tried to pipe in or had an interesting fact to share, so you defying one of the fundamental rules of his life is a bit jarring.

As he grows closer and more comfortable to you, he gets used to your pondering and even begins to consider them. Maybe you have a point?

“What’s the minimum amount of ducks do you think it would take to fully kill an adult rhino?”

“I don’t fuchkin’ know. Probably a schit ton.”

“I bet, like, five. They’d just swarm him.”

“You are scho wrong. He’d schtomp them all to a pashte.”

Well now he’s gonna stay awake all night thinking about it. He can’t decide if you’re the stupidest person he’s ever met or the smartest. Either way, he gets a little flustered when facing the seemingly infinite expanse of your mind.

After a while, he begins to pick up your habit. In his own Murderface-way, of course. He had a pretty obvious interest in things like car mechanics and war history, but now he’s more willing to share all of what he knows with you. He’s really excited that someone finally seems interested in what he has to say, no matter how meaningless it is.

And once that door is open, he becomes more willing to open up on a deeper level. Even though he’s a dumbass, he does have a depth of intelligence, even if he isn’t great at articulating it. Be patient and you’ll get some fascinating conversation from him.

“Even if there isch a God…like, what the fuck, man?! You juscht gonna leave us all down here to suffer and schit? I might as well ignore you juscht to schpite you! What a dick move.”

William never realized how valuable it was to him just to be listened to. Simply talking to you slowly becomes one of the better parts of his day, everyday.

It takes a lot for Murderface to love and it takes even more to love him back. But the effort is well worth it with these types of riveting discussions;

“You have to fight a bug that’s 100 times its original size and you get one weapon from the medieval era. What is your bug and what’s your weapon?”

“Easchy. Butterfly, Croschbow. One arrow for each wing. Instant win.”

[stobotnikworld]

Sonic 3 - Wtf was that absolute shitshow ??

I'm sorry, but I'm sticking with what I said originally. This film was fucking awful. It was like a slightly better version of a Knuckles episode, but it felt like it had been written by some garbage fanfiction writer who had never heard of Sonic before, and directed by some amateur teenage art student who'd never read a book in their life, or learned how to film.

This is why I like writing my own fanfiction, and reading other people's, because once a franchise becomes cocky and turns on its head it's all the way down from there. Like WAY fucking down. Knuckles was just the beginning...

However fanfiction is exactly that. It's fanfiction, it stays within the fandom so it doesn't look like it's taking a shit on a franchise.

-

I'm putting this massive rant under the cut so that people can skip it if they want, but there is no way I'd see Sonic 3 again and I'm definitely not buying it when it comes out on Blu-Ray.

Sonic 4 is not going to be on my cinema views list after this. The way this franchise is going at the moment, it may not even be on my fanfiction writing list.

I am super glad that Sonic 3 smashed the box office though, the ammount of work Jim Carrey and Lee Majdoub put into the franchise. They deserve it, and the first two films were definitely worth any extra pay that will come from this film. They're wonderful people, wonderful actors, they deserve all the praise they get.

So I'm not trying to be a dick, and they have entertained us wonderfully, which I'm extremely grateful for and I know a lot of other people are too.

They are the only reasons why I still paid to see the film, even after thinking that it looked awful initially. The ammount of work and effort and time they put in, it's not asking a lot for me to support them by taking time out of my day to see their work.

In fact their work wasn't the problem. At any point.

-

I also respect that we all have our own opinions, and I don't want to keep talking about this from this point forth, so I'm not going to go out of my way to try and ruin it for others like a troll on social media etc.

But there are things that need to be said, and this is my Tumblr and my post to say it on, and that way if people want to skip it they can.

Then after this post, I won't get into conversation about it again because I don't want there to be negativity in the fandom, and tbh I really can't be arsed.

I just want to focus on enjoying what is left of Stobotnik, and salvaging what is left of my enjoyment of this fandom before I completely go off it. I feel like my brain has been sandblasted, and it's time I can't get back, and I'm dumber than before I saw the film.

From myself and the other fans who feels this way, fuck you to whoever designed this shitshow.

Whatever you did with this film, don't ever do it again.

EVER.

You are not invincible - you can fall overnight, just like any franchise can. Don't let that happen if you are actually serious about carrying on with this franchise.

The film opens with Shadow waking up in the tank and attacking all of GUN. After this point, 99% of the film had been shown (or misrepresented) in the trailers and clips to make it look a lot better than it actually was.

That was the first thing I noticed, and I mean LITERALLY 99% of the film had been shown throughout the year, almost as though it was a home-made fan film that people were funding out of their own pocket. Where the directors had never made a film before, and needed constant validation from the public that they were writing, filming and animating properly.

There was a whole different feel to this film because of that, and it was fucking weird - and not in a good way.

Everyone felt out of character (more on that later) and literally every tweet about everything Sonic related (fan suggestions and all etc) since the second film were probably staff members asking 'wtf do we do? We have no idea how to script.'

The development between Stone and Robotnik literally never happened. There were a couple of scenes (and I mean like, a couple) that had been shown in the trailers and spoiled through clips online, but literally everything you saw in the film had been put into the trailers and clips. So, watching it in the cinema felt like watching a pirated copy online because there was nothing left to see.

Every second, every scrap of film had been jammed into the trailers and clips to try and get the numbers in. It actually felt like massive scene cuts had been made, like 40 minutes had been cut PER SCENE.

It reminded me of The Last Of Us 2 where most of the game got cut because the staff weren't paid and went on strikes, so they replaced all the good content and jammed in all this budget crap instead from scraps on the cutting room floor.

The finished Sonic 3 film was super, super rushed, far too much crammed in with no depth, development or character exploration, and you could barely tell what was going on from one minute to the next. You know how long each scene was in the trailer? That is literally how long those scenes were in the film.

This film could have been split into a further three films if directed and written properly, with tons and tons of material and deleted scenes left over for the Blu-rays.

Literally 99.5% of the film had been uploaded onto YouTube through trailers, clips and 'theories' throughout the year, almost as though they were constantly checking to see what fans thought. Every tweet, every 'what if', every supposed character design right down to the last pixel, it was confirmation of what the film was going to be about...

If you took all the clips that are on YouTube and put them back to back, you have the entire film. Literally the entire film, I cannot emphasise that enough. Just.. why??? WHY?? What junior twat was responsible for this??

Even Carrey seemed wooden in many parts, and he's an amazing actor.

Everyone was super out of character, it felt like budget cuts had been made everywhere - even on the scrap toilet-newspaper the script had been written.

Tom and Maddy were complete strangers to Sonic, their lives had been cut from each others, the whole thing felt really fucking weird... It's like they had both abandoned Sonic as their child, and the look Maddie gave him in the hospital van was like serial killer eyes.

Like she had never met him before, didn't want the law to protect him, had no feeling towards him. She was cold, she had been so ready to dump Sonic at military school right there and then, just to see him be killed. Not even in a 'huge character mother/son tough-love development arc' kind of way. No, just.. fucking weird.

And WTF was with all the 2min scenes with different characters as though to go 'they're here in the film, but we're not paying them, they're purely appearing for SEO online.' I feel so bad for all the other actors who got shit on. I mean royally fucking shit on, especially the guy playing Commander Walters.

He was such a big character, his death was absolutely meaningless, was over in 2 seconds, no context, no respect, nothing. It almost felt like the other actors were volunteering unpaid. Or else they had been created from CGI and the offer of payment had never been available in the first place.

Was this a result from losing that much money from the Knuckles show because it was complete garbage that nobody wanted and didn't feel invested in?? Or was something else going on in the background? Because it felt like the only real acting going on here was to promote the film and behind the scenes to get people into the cinema to see it.

I mean.. this literally felt like the transition from beautiful watercolour handrawn Lilo & Stitch 1 to the garbage TV cartoon that destroyed the whole franchise.

Or from the fantastic Topcat 1950s show to whatever home-wrecking bullshit we have today. I cannot emphasise enough just how bad this script was, and everything in it.

I was left with more questions than answers after watching the film, and not good ones like 'hey I've got to write something or explore this situation, and I'm going to enjoy it in the process.' Just literally - WTF.

This film was so depressing and not for the supposedly emotional storyline - that it wasn't even, because the main storyline didn't exist.

Shadow had a few nice moments, but for a film that was supposed to be all about him and Maria he was barely in the film at all. They had 'Knuckled' him - which is what I'm calling it now when they take a shit on a character, like they have done all his life. For some really weird fucking reason, that's never been explained.

I mean.. I am so lucky that I watched a bit of the old Sonic cartoons before this film came out, otherwise I would have been like 'who tf is Shadow' and 'who tf is Maria' that's how little info there was.

We literally have no idea what happened to Sonic between films 2 and 3, and there were so many story errors... like with Sonic's cave. Like Tom had never seen it before - yet he and Maddy found all Sonic's shit from his cave in the first place and brought it home.

Tom and Maddy also didn't seem to give two shits whether he lived or died, and what chaos it could bring to their lives. Sonic is their KID, it's their job to protect him.

It's actually completely put me off the Sonic Live franchise now. I'm glad it kicked Disney's butt, they deserve it with all their paedophiles and rapists and nazi bullshit, but the Sonic film in itself? Completely weird, very uncomfortable, super rushed garbage.

Like a long TV episode that's been made up of 7 seasons, and then shoved together quickly so that there is no backstory and no room to explain, explore or feel. Every single thing the fans said throughout the last year or so, appeared in the film in almost exactly the words they said it. Zero creativity.

Zero, zero creativity. This is a film I would happily pay not to have to watch again. A definite straight to Blu-Ray, home film kind of thing. For £3.

The 2 seconds worth of Stobotnik (and I do say 2 seconds, because literally every tiny scene you see in the film is in the goddamn trailer or clips), was the only saving point - and I'm not saying that because I'm a Stobotnik fan. That was literally the only saving point...

That and Shadow and Maria's story that was like 2mins long, and had an ending that made no sense whatsoever...

[faegoddessog]

27: Ghosts of times past

Ok loves, I've decided to try something to stretch myself creatively with this challenge. I'm gonna dribble my drabble and see if I can tie each theme into an actual story that I'll write day by day! We'll see how it goes! Wish me luck!

Here is my ongoing masterlist of this project.

My other works are here if you are interested!

Check out the fun challenge here by @slowsweetlove . Feel free to jump in too!

Warnings: banter about Callum's cock.

“Fuck, you guys, seriously there are no spicy scenes between you?” You shake your head with just how much these two have chemistry. 

“He kept grabbing my face,” says Austin, “now that I think of it, I wonder if you weren’t just planning on kissing me the whole time.” 

Callum reaches up and good naturedly grabs Austin’s chin, “What this face? this kissable face?” 

Austin bats his hand away, suddenly shy at the attention.

A moment passes between them, triggered somehow by the playful touch.  The ghost of times past floats in their eyes.  Not just their own experience filming the brutal intimacy of war, but the haunting memories of those actual men and what they lived through and died for.  Those brave men that had inhabited them and soaked quietly into their very being. It’s something they’d never really talked about, but each of them knew without words. 

Callum inhales deep, blowing out the breath before shaking his head slightly in an effort to tuck the feelings back into his mental pocket. 

Austin, ever willing to stare the uneasy head on, presses his lips together but softens his eyes. The teeniest of smiles twitches his lips as Cal looks away. 

Gratitude washes over him, for Cal and for getting to do what he does for a living. Grateful for you, quietly holding space for the two of them.  He glances at you and his smile widens. 

“We did spend a day rolling around in the mud and punching each other,” Austin offers.

"Ahh, men," you mock.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget!” says Callum, grateful in his own stead, to be moving on.

“I can’t forget, that rib still twinges now and then,” chides Austin stretching his torso to one side.

“I’m sorry doll, but for what it’s worth that got me a little chub, grabbing your leg and scissoring you like that, all day” says Callum with a wink and a casual hand on his dick.

“Impossible,” Austin says with decisiveness.

“Baby Boy,” you say, using two fingers to pull his chin towards you, “you are fucking gorgeous and an amazing human, it'd happen to anyone.” 

Austin’s high cheekbones rouge as he puffs air out his nose and stops just short of rolling his eyes. 

“No, no I meant for that,” he nods at Callum’s crotch, “to be little.” 

You three burst out laughing.

credit to @saradika for the graphic!

Always tag me: @purejasmine, @slowsweetlove, @richardslady121, @austinbutlerslovers, @tadpoleteef, @allittakesisoneflight

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[the-bloody-sadist]

Me-Centered Narration in Fiction

"For characters' hearts to be open to readers, characters must talk to us quite a bit about what's going on inside. In many manuscripts, the characters don't disclose much. Often they, or rather their authors, simply report what's happening to them--a dry, play-by-play conveyance of the action. Even the witty, ironically detached first-person voices of Young Adult, New Adult, and Para-Everything fiction aren't necessarily open. An ironic, snarky, or perky tone can be used to avoid true intimacy with readers. Literary writing isn't necessarily intimate, either. A life "closely observed" doesn't mean we'll care about it." -Donald Maass, The Emotional Craft of Fiction

Welcome to the new tag, Sadist's fiction advice!! For those of you interested, I'll be taking bits out of books I personally studied all my life to learn how to write--the majority of those being by the fantastic and insightful Donald Maass, whose writing help books I've collected for my shelf! If you want to start anywhere for your own novel, start with him. I'm not fucking kidding. He's THE BEST out there.

Let's start with some discussion on that first quote, alone! Most often, the first thing that turns me off to a story is the main character's voice. I'm an extremely picky reader, nowadays, after growing up reading, and especially after discovering the fanfiction world. But one thing that I actually tend to like more about fanfiction is that a lot of the authors--since their source material is an existing couple of characters that they can research and have a template to add their own details to--are not afraid to explore how that character talks to the reader and sees the world.

In so much of professional fiction I've found only bland, annoying main characters who fail to make me laugh with their sarcastic quips about living on earth. It's just...boring. It's all the same. And don't even get me started on the erotic world, because what are they ON?? I've never found more abrasive or boring main characters than in professional erotica. I've tried and dropped nearly every gay romance I've come across with a pretty cover (meaning NOT a stock image of a hunky, shirtless man because ew, low effort)...and literally none of them except one grabbed me. And that one took CHAPTERS UPON CHAPTERS of dealing with yet another boring main character just to get to the love interest that I was curious about. And if you're curious, that book was the Captive Prince series by C.S. Pacat. I will slander it, I'm sorry. The writing is frustratingly basic and the prose is very weird at times, and Damen is a cardboard cutout in my opinion. Laurent was the saving grace of that series, and if not for him, I would've dropped that book on chapter one.

Captive Prince eventually got much better, so it's still one of the only good ones I've ever read, but--BUT--Damen's inner world? Boring as shit. I wanted to know his complexities and conflicts, the things that directly impacted his worldview and the ways he was a multifaceted person. I really wanted him to win me over. But I mostly skimmed a lot of the "thoughts" that were going on in his head, because he had none that were worth listening to. He wasn't unique. He wasn't particularly conflicted about anything interesting.

In direct contrast to that, probably my favorite romance to ever exist in the LGBT category is Anne Rice's The Vampire Armand. Talk about a fascinating writer with a strong voice. Anne is INSANE, for one. The things she puts together on paper are wild and ravishing and they will fucking sweep you off your feet. And that's what I'm always looking for. We see the world through the vampire Armand's eyes, who has a riveting and thorough perspective--far different from the pessimistic narcissism of most modern tellings of vampire "romances" (Twilight can eat my dick). He feels tangible, terrifying, and so warm at the same time. He displays a full and seasoned view of the world, and it reads as realistic for someone having lived so long. Marius, the boy who is with him who's caught up in sexuality, is a fantastic contrast to Armand, and thus provides a thrilling relationship dynamic of push-and-pull. He is headstrong; Armand is mature and set on rules.

Ugh, I could go on and on about how good Anne is when it comes to these things. Her characters are top-notch every time, and though there are sometimes exceedingly long rants about topics that neither interest me nor entertain me, somehow the way that she structures it in her characters' voices could convince me otherwise. (I still skip some of the LOOOONG expositions on history and religion but LMAO, I could read it if I had time.)

Let me infuse some more of Donald Maass into this, going on with his advice from The Emotional Craft of Fiction:

"Elsewhere I have advocated building the world of the story not by describing how it looks, sounds, feels, smells, or tastes, but rather by conveying characters' experience of that world. Opening the emotional world of a story is just as important, but doing so involves delving not only into characters' experience of their world but also of themselves.

For some authors this can be uncomfortable. Plot-driven storytellers, for example, may fear that they're slowing the action. Character-driven storytellers can be afraid of getting their characters' inner lives wrong, believing that even a tiny misstep can ruin years of effort. Both fears strangle emotional effect. The truth is that there is nothing wrong with opening up characters' inner lives. The bigger problem is that most authors don't do so enough. That said, letting characters simply gush on the page isn't terribly effective, either."

I always hesitate to talk about my own writing, because it feels egotistical to use my own as an example, but since you're here because you either like my writing or my art, well... 😂 I feel like it's the best way to give you a glimpse of how I think when I create them! Plus I know you want to hear about it, so I'll put my self-deprecation in the closet.

That said, let's talk about Dancing With Death--particularly what Maass mentioned in presenting world building through the eyes of your character and not the physicality of the setting. I am not someone who enjoys the observation of fantasy cultures and elements that we don't have in the real world. I simply do not care. I don't like Avatar for this reason--the entire world of Avatar is the biggest character in the story, and I don't care. Biology and science is boring. There's no interesting person to see the world through, so I find myself lost on why I'm watching it as a story, when it feels like it should be a video game to explore instead.

This being the case, my portal for the world was Emery, whom I consider to be the least interesting character I've ever created LMAO. Probably because he's so normal, and basically everyone else I've created is wildly off-kilter on morality, thought process, and mental health.

BUT!

My workaround for this character concept was having him come from an isle with a directly opposing culture to the one he'd be entering for the story. Now, I'm not much for introductions to characters living their normal life, so I started right off with Emery arriving in Gailda, so that the reader could find out organically how much different Gailda was to Emery's home in Dorne. Pretty much everything he comes into contact with--starting with the isle's ruler, Taushin--is entirely backwards to the way Emery has been raised. It adds interest because it adds inherent conflict. But the complexity here is that Emery came to Gailda of his own accord. Because he was curious about Gailda, and wanted to see if it was really as bad as the rumors he'd heard.

He travels there under the pretense that he's going to go free some Pets (the bed slaves of the world structure). But the readers should suspect right away that this isn't the case. Emery is a reckless, curious little man. He thinks he's an upstanding citizen, but he's naïve and--as we soon find out--pretty easily swayed.

So, seeing the world through Emery's eyes makes the world seem new and horrifying and thrilling to the readers--at least, this is my aim, of course! Going off of the current feedback I've received, most readers saw it this way. And while Emery might still be my least favorite man in my repertoire, he has deeply conflicting views, which constantly create dilemmas he has to resolve.

If you can keep a character on his toes, talking to the reader about the choices he has to make and how his morals might object to those choices, it opens up an intimate connection between us and them. The more specific their problems, the more chance the reader has to relate. What would they do in that situation? Don't make it easy.

For instance, one of Emery's first choices involves Minx, a Pet who's sent to his chambers the first night as a custom of Gaildan hospitality. Emery has come to free the Pets, so seeing Minx in his room instantly creates a dilemma. He thinks he can resolve this by not sexually interacting with Minx. But of course it's not that easy. Minx has to have intercourse with him, as per his master, Taushin (the ruler of the isle whom Emery is "doing business" with), or else he'll be punished. Then it's up to Emery whether he'll protect Minx by fucking him (LMAO), or not fucking him and knowingly submitting the boy to unjust punishment.

Okay, well that's enough rambling for my FIRST FUCKING POST. I hope this helps you, or otherwise lets you know that I'm just as long-winded in discussions as I am in my stories. 🥲 But in stories, that's a good thing! I hope that's what you've learned, today. Get to know your character by writing how he thinks and sees and feels the world around him, and make him INTERESTING, goddamnit! The more intricate and unique, the more we're inclined to listen to his inner world.

I'll leave you with another quote on that same page from Donald Maass's book--and feel free to send me asks about this topic or to let me know if it helped you! If I don't have feedback, I'll likely not continue these posts. It's hard to write and ramble to an audience I can't see. T_T Tumblr makes it tough for comments and likes!

"Creating a world that is emotionally involving for readers means raising questions and concerns about that world. It means both welcoming readers inside that world and making them curious, or uneasy, about where they are. First-person narration, the self-absorbed voice of our age, would seem to do that automatically but that belief is deceptive. True emotional engagement happens when a reader isn't just enjoying a character's patter but when she cannot avoid self-reflection, whether she's aware of it happening or not."

If you're interested in my own work that I talked about, Dancing With Death, and haven't read it, some of it is on Tumblr! Here's a link to the first chapter. It's more polished now than what is posted, but when it's published someday, you can see it in its full glory!

Dancing With Death chapter 1

About Donald Maass' The Emotional Craft of Fiction

[jinmukangwrites]

Dik (31bby-26bby) for the ask game, please? Is this that DC Star Wars AU I think I remember you talking about? (I don't remember if the 'bby' is related to sw dates, sorry if I'm wrong)

You're dead on! It is a Star Wars AU, and Dik is the name I gave Dick within the AU. The timeline itself is pretty important to the story, so the entire backstory of Batfam has had to be rewritten to fit within the timeline of the Old Republic, hense why I put dates. You'll see that I spoil a bit of the timeline by having Tim's dates cut off at 19bby, ie, the end of the Clone Wars and the beginning of the Empire.

Dik's chapter is within the timeline of him first becoming Bruce's Padawan through his graduation into a Jedi Knight. (Around this time, Phantom Menace has occurred, so if dates are difficult to visualize, Dik is a little older than Anakin). I retell a bit of a classic Robin to Nightwing story that fits within the universe and allows Jason to make an appearance near the end. Most classic beats to a Dick Grayson's Robin are retold and refit into the Star Wars canon.

I'm also gonna post a snippet of the last section I have currently written for Dik's chapter, as i haven't touched the AU despite it being a passion project for a little while. It's one of those fics I refuse to upload until I've finished it, which means that I'm not going to post it for a looooong time more. This is where I've left off, and I still need to write Jason's retelling, and Tim's, up until Order 66 where after I'll introduce Damian, Cass, and Duke, to which the whole family's stories will continue past Empire rule. Like I said, passion project, it's one of those stories I desperately wish I could read right now instead of writing it, but by God I'll write it if I must.

----

It didn't take Dik long to decide he was going to do exactly what Master Bruce told him not to do. The Senate meeting wasn't for a few more days, and Dik could play along and stay with Master Alf until then. He had never disobeyed Master Bruce before, so he doubted either of them would expect it. He won't admit it, but the reason he's never disobeyed wasn't because he was a good student, or thought Master Bruce always knew better, but it was because he was afraid of being sent away if he didn't constantly prove he was worth the time and effort. Relations built on temporary measures could never be trusted to magically become permanent.

However, that Two-Face guy clearly was a powerful foe, which meant Dik should be there rather than sit it out. What if Master Bruce got hurt?

Or worse?

Dik didn't want to imagine the worse options. Not with the Sith back.

So he didn't have a choice, he had to go against Master Bruce's wishes and help take down this Two-Face guy. When Dik proved that he was capable and skilled, Master Bruce would forgive him and let him stay for other big names in the future.

They were partners, and Dik was going to prove that he was worth keeping around no matter what.

-o0o-

Dik liked Master Alf-Reed. Honestly, under any other circumstances, Dik would be elated to spend one-on-one time with the old Jedi. This was the man who completed Bruce's training, who spoke so civilly but carried an air about him that he knew a lot more than what you ever would, and he had a rifle-blaster which he was hardly queasy about using it.

He had a lot of stories and lessons to tell, and Dik ate them up. His lessons were always hard but rewarding and meaningful. He gave compliment and praise easily, and gently scolded for things gone wrong.

Dik hoped sneaking out wouldn't upset the old Jedi. But it was a risk he had to take.

Sneaking out of his room was one thing, all he really had to do was lie and say he was going to go to a meditation chamber and he wanted to be alone; but it was another thing sneaking out of the temple itself.

Luckily, Master Bruce made sure Dik knew how to sneak around.

Sure, sneaking around Jedi was considerably more difficult than sneaking around common criminals—especially if certain green Council members were nearby—but Dik made sure that he left at the exact time a Council meeting had started. It was late enough that most Jedi were also more likely returning to their rooms rather than leaving them. The front temple gates were relatively clear by the time Dik got to them.

None of the Jedi were even ones that Dik recognized, so no one tried to stop him based off acquaintance alone.

Eventually, against all odds, Dik made it outside.

The Senate building wasn't far from the Jedi temple; after walking a good ten minutes away from the temple, Dik eventually was able to hail a cab and pay the droid driver with some of the allowance he'd been saving up. The driver didn't ask any questions on why a thirteen-year-old would be going to the Senate building alone; not that Dik expected him too.

And just like that, Dik was blending in with a crowd of senators and their helpers corralling into there large, domed structure. There were more police droids than what Dik thought was usual, but they let him through with just a flash of his lightsaber and a small: "Jedi business."

Dik couldn't really think of a time where Dik's been inside the Senate building, but luckily it wasn't too hard to tell where to go. The masses all gathered in groups, they moved toward the important rooms like fish swimming up a stream. Besides, Dik didn't need to guess where the meeting room was, didn't even need the Senators to show him the way—the shape of the building alone made it obvious.

Dik didn't need to go into those important rooms though, not yet. He wanted to patrol the perimeter. If some criminal was going to crash the party, they weren't going to just walk in with the newly appointed Senator Amadala.

He poked his head around here and there, inspecting the large place the best he could. He even stuck his head in some of the vents, which probably wasn't a very good idea as his silka beads got caught in some of the grating and it took an embarrassing amount of time to get unstuck despite no one being there to witness.

Seriously, Padawans with hair had it easy.

Eventually, he made a full round about the halls that formed a perimeter of the central dome, coming to the main entrance once again. The main meetings that involved every Senator present was tens of minutes from starting, which meant most occupants should be seated inside within their respective pods.

Expecting the main foyer to be empty, Dik nearly jumped a parsec high and made an squeak of alarm when it only appeared to be empty.

Master Bruce... and a near-human woman Dik needed only a moment to identify. Talia al Ghul, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, recently made senator for the Lazarus system controlled by her father. It's hard to tell what species exactly she was, at first glance you'd think she's completely human, but at a closer look her eyes were the color of polished emerald, split in the center with predatory slitted pupils. A trait shared with her father, the former Jedi, now ruler. Dik had never met the woman, nor her father, but Master Bruce had talked about her sometimes, though nothing more vague than a she's a remarkable woman.

He managed to keep his reaction under control

-----

*Throttling me by the throat*: WHY DIDN'T I WRITE MORE AHHHH

[discodeviant]

Shame On Me

Billy/Steve | Mature | 2.2k A3 ACCIDENTAL EXHIBITIONISM C3 BREAK-UP/MAKE-UP SEX

Made for @steveharringtonbingo and @billyhargrovebingo! Also on AO3

Midnight gym runs had become a part of Steve’s routine since senior year. First the tragedy, insomnia and night terrors, then Billy Hargrove in the flesh, and it just got too hard to keep his eyes closed. More so after the summer when his royal blue sailor getup earned him a night with the real Billy in the back seat tucked behind navy steel, hot and heavy and every bit as painful as it was to look into his pool. He’d loved and hated the color blue in the same night, in the final breath he pulled alongside the rest of himself before he was shoved away, told to get lost, told that it’d happen again in his dreams. It did, too; he hated that Billy was right.

Still, he wondered why Billy sounded so angry, so disgusted with himself for letting Steve get close. Maybe Billy didn’t like his chest hair. It had been growing in all awkward and rough, not quite long enough yet for thick fingers to tangle in when they reached for it. Maybe the trail down to his pubes reminded him too much that Steve was a man, not the boy Billy met in high school. Things were different after they’d graduated. Jobs, college prep (presumably, anyway, because Billy was smart), individual duties with the kind-of-siblings in their lives. Steve never got his number, nor did he ask. Billy never looked at him again. Maybe the moles were ugly after all, but the mirror didn’t give him any answers. It reflected the sad and confused version of himself that he saw clearly without it anyway. Sunburnt after Mrs. Henderson’s yard sale, broad at the shoulders without the same meat on his abs. Skinny legs. Big feet. Big, stupid dick that might have hurt Billy too much to ever want it again.

Not his face, though. Billy wouldn’t call him pretty boy if his face was the problem.

So midnights at the gym were the nights Steve was allowed to feel sorry for himself. It closed at two, and no one stayed much later than nine anyway. All silence but the rattling air vents and echo of his own breath. He held his cock and turned to the side, flexed a little to assess whether he’d want to fuck himself a second time. He would, maybe, if the Steve in the mirror flattered him, whispered in his ear how fucking hot he was, how sweet and pink his tongue looked, pushed him into sticky leather hard enough to make him croon and roll his eyes and—

“You’re a little exhibitionist, aren’t you, Harrington?”

He jumped and pulled the towel down from around his shoulders to cover his front, hot in the face again seeing Billy’s grin at the lockers. “Fucking—Jesus Christ. No, not really.” His stomach was turning already, contracting every few seconds in a weak attempt to heave up what wasn’t there. He swallowed every one, avoided Billy’s gaze at all costs for the few seconds he was asked before Billy spoke up again.

“So… it was an accident that you just happened to be rubbing one out the second I walk in here?”

“Yes! And I wasn’t even—why am I—“ He was struggling to put his shorts back on without letting the towel fall, and Billy cackled as he stood back and watched. “Goddammit. Just fuck off, man.” He tried to hide the trembling in his voice, though a deeper part of him wondered if it was worth the effort. Billy took one step closer, then two, then three; the walls were closing in. Air tightened, his breath stilled, and he still hadn’t tied the drawstrings.

“Thinking about me?” Billy asked, too confident in the midst of Steve’s discomfort. Too much like he’d practiced it and only dropped by to give him a hard time before leaving him in the dust again. Steve supposed it was his right, but there was still mud stained onto his hands, and here Billy was to cake on even more. Steve’s shoulders were too heavy.

“I told you to fuck off.”

The night was coming back again in sharp flashes of moans and waving shadows, touches that he was beginning to think he’d imagined all along. “You’re even cuter than last time,” Billy said, and Steve rolled his eyes, pulled his shirt on as quickly as he could, held back the grunt that rumbled in his chest.

“Yeah, well…” He still didn’t look Billy in the eye. Just gathered his towel and stomped his way over to the locker. “You said that was the only time, so—“

“I didn’t mean that.”

Steve scoffed. “Sure sounded like it.” Throwing his dirty clothes back in, pulling out his shoes and slipping them on, he cleared his throat. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought Billy was speechless.

“I just gotta be careful, man, you know that.”

He yanked the bag out and slammed the locker shut—not out of anger, but a new kind of energy that flowed through his arm. Longing, frustration; betrayal, almost, though he didn’t have any right to feel it. “This is careful?” he asked, meeting Billy’s gaze. The cocky glint fell away back to that night in the car. “I thought avoiding me for three months was careful, not creeping on me at the gym at one in the fucking morning. Shit.” He laughed a breathy little laugh and rubbed his eyes. “Why the hell are you even here?”

“’Cause this is careful, asshole.” Billy was fumbling with something in his pocket, both hands occupied while he spoke. He sighed, then, big and melodramatic. “Fuck’s sake, Steve.”

“What!”

“I don’t kiss people.”

“… Dude, you literally begged me to make out with you.”

“I know I did! I know, just—shut up. Fuck.” So Steve did just that. He sat on the bench, threw his bag down, and accepted that they’d be there a while. “I’m sorry, okay?” Billy’s voice was quiet; he’d become even smaller. “And, look, if I fucked up the whole thing, I get it, but—“

“Fucked up what, huh? Tell me.” He rolled his eyes, and Steve sat with an expectant stare. “Wanna fuck without kissing this time, is that it?” Asking was an agonizing kick to the stomach, staring at Billy’s lips and the tongue that nestled between. Steve saw the gears turning in his head and could have watched them for hours. “You’re worse at this shit than I am.”

Billy huffed—“Screw you, Harrington”—kicked the ground, breathed in hard, then sat right next to him with his shoulders down. This was who Steve met behind the Starcourt parking lot; soft-spoken and gentle, scared but fearless when he was in charge. Steve let him have that, at least. Allowed him the silence to think before there were any more reasons to yell. He wanted to hold Billy’s hand, rub his back, tell him it was fine, it didn’t matter, but the stress in his brows said otherwise.

It felt like steam leaving his mouth: “I might have been thinking about you.” Billy raised his head a little, cocked an eyebrow and a hopeful smirk. “I mean, not in a sex way, just…” Steve shook his head. “Whatever.”

“Should I be offended?”

“I don’t know, man, I can’t read your mind.”

“Can’t read yours either, pretty boy.”

Steve squinted and sighed, not yet trusting the release of tension in his back even hearing those words again just for him. Billy’s voice was tighter than when he walked in. Thinking, maybe, but Steve couldn’t know. “Can we talk in the car? It’s hot in here.”

“Yours?” Billy asked, and Steve nodded, so they went without another word.

Every sound rang out in the parking lot, like an echo with no echo at all. Just plain loud. Jingling keys that opened both back doors, Billy’s hand pulling the handle out with a heavy click. He waited for Steve to walk around and open his own door so they could slide in together, leather creaked under denim and polyester before the doors both closed into silence again. Billy rolled his window down a third of the way, just enough to let the air in. It felt good on Steve’s face.

“What, um…” He watched Billy fumble in his pocket again before he pulled out a brass Zippo lighter. It flicked on and off, ignited and extinguished, glowed and went dark again.

“What do you really want, Billy?” His heart drummed like the heavy music that played behind them the first—only—time. Shower-damp hair sticking to the back of his neck felt like nervous sweat, and he wiped his palms on his knees to keep them occupied. “You know, I mean—“

“I know what you mean.” Their knees leaned against each other, hot denim to hotter flesh. That was what Steve wanted: proximity without the center console in the way, something so Billy knew he was real and there and just as heavy-hearted. “I was gonna ask what you were thinking about.” Just as Steve took a deep breath—“No, don’t tell me.” Steve smiled, just a little bit.

“No?”

No.

So instead he slid a hand from his lap to Billy’s, ran his pinky along Billy’s wrist and to the brass flip-cap to close it himself. Billy sat still and let him take it, slip it into his jacket pocket, replace it with his own hand. Steve was gentle with him now, not like before. Before, there were bites and tight grips and words said through gritted teeth of which, then, neither knew the sincerity. “Why’re you so nice to me, Steve?” Now it may have been more apparent, and he hoped so.

“Why, you don’t want me to be?”

Billy huffed with a roll of his neck, and Steve just kept grinning.

“Relax, man. I’m… I don’t know, I…”

“It wasn’t you. Fucking… god knows it wasn’t you, alright?”

Steve shrugged. “It freaked you out. I get it.”

“You don’t, though, that’s the fucking problem. I just—I can’t—”

“Billy. Hey.” His eyes were on the handle before Steve tugged his hand and pulled his gaze back with it. “I’m glad you came by, alright, I didn’t mean the shit I said in there.”

“Yeah you did.”

Sigh. “Well, okay, a little. But, come on, what was I supposed to think, man?”

“That I fuckin’ hated you, probably. Right?” Billy bit his lip; Steve’s answer hung in the air like a storm cloud that didn’t want to break open. “I don’t hate you.”

His heart leapt to jump right back into Billy’s hands, and somewhere in the silence was honesty like he’d never known. “Me neither,” he said, a little defeated. Staying angry was difficult when he sat with the very warmth he’d wanted for so long.

Billy looked down again. “I wish I liked you less,” he said, and Steve’s hand was turning his chin back up without hesitation.

“Don’t tell me that’s what scared you.”

His eyes closed as he leaned into Steve’s gentle palm. The curl over his brow dangled when he shook his head to say, no, it wasn’t that, but that and a hundred other things. “I can’t, Steve.” His voice trembled with his hands, shrunk even smaller to fit inside the pit he’d carved out for moments like this.

“Can I?” Steve asked, and he swore Billy rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t enough time for an answer when Billy pulled himself forward and kissed him hard, clutched his hand even harder and brought the faintest sting of tears to his eyes. They still burned after he blinked them away. In the pit of his stomach, fear swam and kicked that he was chasing something make-believe, that he was setting out to break his own heart. Once was enough; twice might have killed him. Billy might have killed him if he wasn’t careful, and the pearly teeth clicking against his made him wonder if Billy was afraid of the same thing: falling victim to the king without ever seeing the throne.

“I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry…” Billy climbed onto his lap once their shirts were off, ground into Steve’s sore thigh.

“It’s okay,” he said, or he tried, but Billy kept him quiet with the tip of his tongue.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Pants, briefs. “I’m good for my word, I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Just—” Out of breath, so close, so fucking close. Billy’s whole body jerked. His head hit the roof of the car before he came down, fell over Steve, shook until he returned to his body and felt Steve’s gentle scratching down his back. “Don’t go.”

He may have been too dazed to argue that time with his mouth hanging open as he caught his breath. Steve put the other palm on his chest, felt that his heartbeat didn’t slow anyway. Billy bit his lip. Climbed off, pulled his briefs back up and let Steve do the same.

“Billy?”

Soft leather squeaked under his thigh. Tears threatened his eyes again; they came and went like a passing rain. “Hm?”

He nudged Billy’s wrist. “Stay?”

Billy hooked his pinky around Steve’s to say yes.

[paarthurnax59]

"Soul of Liberty"

Prologue

warnings: mentions of cheating(Reader), Dean being a dick, but kind of understandable, swearing, angst. if you are triggered by this stuff, please do not read!

2013

“You know, (Name), if you hadn’t been a horrible and lying bitch, I would have ever found the woman that I was truly meant to be with.” Dean said bitterly with a devilish smirk on his. Knowing well how much this must be hurting (Name) to hear that she had been so easily replaced by a woman far more superior in beauty and in personality. Maria was very everything he could have dreamed of and everything that his soon to be ex-wife wasn’t. He didn’t go far yet with Maria because he was still married (Name), but after sleeping with Sam, he figured he would throw all morality out the window. He didn’t sleep with her, but might as well have. 

“Dean, I made a mistake. I thought I loved Sam, I really did, but…after learning what I had done to you was wrong and discovering what was wrong with Sam after you left, I made the worst mistake of my life. I took you for granted. I know it that now. I can never say I’m sorry enough. I still love you” (Name) was trying so hard to not let the tears slip down her checks in front of everyone in the restaurant that day. She couldn’t believe she let herself screw up this badly, that now she really was going to lose Dean forever. “I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“You can start by signing those divorce papers, sweetheart. And then after, never show your ugly face to me again.” Dean gritted his teeth staring down at her like a cockroach that he was just itching to squash, like how she had done to his heart and his trust. “We are finished, (Name). This ‘mistake’ had cost you big time. Tell me, (Name), was it worth? How does it feel to be isolated and alone once again, like you were at that orphanage in Smallville as that pathetic little brat that no one would adopt?” Dean uttered with spite in his voice, trying to jab the knife in her back even more. It’s what she deserved after all. He moved his lips to her ear, knowing full well this was the closest she would get to Dean. 

    “Yeah, that’s got to be hard. The solitude and the feeling that no family ever wanted you, no friends to comfort you and now…no other man will want to you like I had you or Sam. Because no one could ever love a cheater and a liar. We could have had a good life together, a great one, at least compared to what you had before. However, because of your selfishness, manipulation, and lust for my brother. It will never be yours again.” Dean whispered baring his teeth as he as his lips hovered over lips, but not touching them. 

    Dean was no longer interested in touching this dirty slut ever again. He would be lucky if he never saw her again, which was he was intending on doing. Letting her fade away in his memory like a bad dream and long forgotten. (Name) then took a step back, not believing how much Dean had grown to hate her this much. To hit her with the trauma of her past and making her believe that she was never worth the effort. Not worth fighting for or saving. How did things get this bad? How did she become so selfish? She tries to hold back the crying and the over whelming emotions that threaten to engulf her entire being. If only she were stronger like other hunters were. If only she had never kissed or slept with Sam.

“You can’t mean that, Dean. I can understand that I hurt you and I will regret that for the rest of my life. And if you never want to be with me again, I can live with that. but-”

“But what?” He spat out folding his arms frowning his eyebrows, Looking at what he believed to be the most pathetic human being on the planet. 

“Would you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?” She asked, hoping that at least could have that, then she too can move on. Her heart fluttered with hope but soon died as Dean snicked at her and grinned at her pleas. 

“Are you kidding? Do you not know me at all, Darling? You know how badly I hold a grudge.” Dean mocked her as more tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Once Dean cared for her tears, he would whip them away until her eyes finally dried and hold her through the night, to the break of dawn. Now, he could care less. In fact, he relished it, because it’s what he had gone through after learning about his wife’s affair with his brother when he was soulless. “I gave you everything I had, my heart, my soul and my promise that I would be the best husband I could be. I protected you, cherished you and saved your life more times than I could count. Far more than you would ever do for me and how do you pay me? By going behind my back, flirting with my brother, touching him, lying to me and sleeping with the man that I gave my life for over and over again. And still would. Not that I could say the same for you.” Dean grumbled trying to get to answering her question. “You have no idea what this did to me. (Name). To us. You broke us, (Name). You broke us in ways that could never be fixed and for that…I hate you and I will never forgive you for as long as we both live.” Dean’s last words now permanently sealed what little hope (Name) had of reconciling with Dean. She just wanted at that moment for Hell to just swallow her up and make her endure the worst amount of torture imaginable. Anything was better than having the man she loved so deeply hate her with every fiber of his being. When Dean held grudges, he would often hold them until death would take him.  She stepped away from him with her mouth dropped and her mind blank.

“Now, if you will excuse us, (Last Name).” He spit back her maiden name. “Me, my Brother, my beautiful girlfriend, and friends need to get back home.”

“Wait, home?” She asked confused. Had Sam and Dean obtained a house of their own?

“Yeah, We found a bunker. The Men of Letters Bunker. Turns out our dad was a legacy and met our grandfather. Made it our own cozy little home base. Defiantly beats jumping from Motel to Motel all the time and sleeping in the Impala.” He bragged, knowing full well that is the life (Name) was doomed to live for the rest of her miserable life. Doomed to live on the road, no home, no family, no friends, and certainly no husband to ever give her warmth and comfort at night. It he could create (Name)’s own personal hell, that would be it. No physical amount of pain and torture would compare to the pain of loneliness for her. That…was her worst fear, her nightmare. “Also, must beat living at an lonely and cold orphanage either. So, why don’t you just do me a favor and sign the damn papers I sent you and I never have to see your face again.” Dean then turned to leave but stopped like he forgot something. “Oh! I almost forgot!” He walked back and stared down at his ex and held out his hand. “I need to have the ring back. It was my mother’s after all. No way I would have some whore like you keep it any longer. You’re not worthy of it.”

(Name), although she was too shocked for words, lifted her left hand and slipped Mary’s wedding ring off and hovered over Dean’s hand, pulled away when she tried to place it in his hand.

“Don’t touch me. Just drop it.” Dean spat bitterly, not wanting to even be in contact with this girl in anyway ever again. People in the restaurant watched the seen unfold as the pair exchange their last words to each other. 

“Can you at least try to be civil, Dean?” She begged him to not sound more pathetic than she already was being, and then proceeded to drop the ring into Dean’s hand after he stuck it out again. 

“I think you lost the right for me to be civil, darling.” Dean retorted as he stuck the ring back into his pocket. “You know, this ring might actual look good on Maria’s finger when the time comes. Now that proposal will be much more romantic and beautiful than then the last one.” Dean bragged as (Name)’s heart sank even further with tears streaming down her face, thinking what they had done was nothing. When Dean proposed to her, it was only them and the night sky while eating cheeseburgers and malt shakes as the meteor shower hit. He asked her to turn around and then when she looked back at him with him down on one knee. To (Name), it was perfect, because she was with her true love.  “I’m thinking…dinner at a five-star restaurant, with a violin playing and three course meal and dancing after that.”

“But you don’t-”

“Dance, I know, but for Maria, I’m willing to do anything for. After all, she isn’t a cheater that messes around with my brother.” Dean interrupted. “She’s Latina after all. And she does love to dance.” Dean said and looked across the room at his gorgeous girlfriend waving back at him lovingly and he gladly reciprocated. Dean told her from the beginning that he wasn’t into dancing and barely ever did it with her, not even on their wedding day because Dean just wanted to get the whole ceremony over with so they can start the honeymoon. “Because unlike you, sweetheart…she is worth it. So thank you for making me realize the biggest mistake of my life, and that was ever meeting you, (Name).”

[sleuthy-scientist]

Dead Men Don't Talk

*Just a quick, random one shot I wrote about a letter Douglas Bailey leaves for Emily.

Hope it's not too out of character I have only watched the first 2 episodes of this season.

Enjoy🙃*

Emily,

I am such an idiot and I know you will never forgive me when you find out the truth. That someone like you would ever be able to trust me again. I hate knowing I will disappoint you and cause you pain.

You were right, you have been right every step of the way. The things your theorized, the decisions you profiled. You Emily Prentiss are amazing.

I wish I had been brave enough to go against my orders from above. That I had listened to your insight instead of believe my own inexperienced opinions.

Obviously if you are reading this I am dead. I can guarantee you its through no fault of your own. I've seen firsthand how much you care and empathize, the dedication and effort you put forth.

You gave me the benefit of the doubt, you kept giving me chances to listen to you and make the right choices, follow the proper strategies to end this.

I thought I knew better, that I could handle it, that I had everything under control. I thought I saw the big picture and all the little details needed to make the FBI more efficient. But I was wrong, I got trying to translate my knowledge and skills where they didn't belong. I focused on the stupid details, listened to the wrong people, instead of who and what really mattered.

I know how this story ends for me, and I don't want you to feel guilty or place blame on yourself. I know without a doubt in my mind you did everything you possibly could to save me. That when people are in danger, you try and save everyone, even those not worth saving.

You will beat Sicarius, bring down his network and allies. I know because that's who are. You are a good person Emily, you will outwit him. You truly encompass and surpass the qualities the FBI stands for. I have never met anyone like you. Anyone so selfless, loyal, brave, strong, smart, gorgeous, and funny.

I get it now, why the rest of the BAU admires you so much. The are lucky to have you, you are a credit to your profession. You deserve to be the director of the FBI, to be running the show. Because you know how who people are and what they need. You don't put your ego and opinions above what is right or just.

You never wanted the accolades, attention, or applause and appreciation. You just wanted to make the world a better and safer place. I hate that you didn't get the credit you deserved and were used as a scape goat for the things you had no hand in. You should never have been used like that, by anyone. I know you don't want or need it, but I hope you get the credit and recognition you've more than earned.

Knowing you was everything. I can't believe what a dick I was to you. The political bullshit I used to believe was right and necessary. The way I tried to strong arm you without giving you the resources you needed and deserved to do your job.

I learned my lesson the hard way, I hope the Attorney General and other higher ups don't have to. I hope they finally listen to what you have to say and can take their own biases, egos, and selfishness out of the equation. You and your team are the ones with the knowledge and experience needed most now.

I didn't understand before what you and your people do. What your jobs entail, how you all manage to handle the ugly violence you deal with everyday. To be strong and brave enough to look evil in the eye and stop it. To try and get something resembling justice for those left behind.

I'm sorry Emily for this, for that, for everything I can't explain to you. I'm glad atleast if I'm dead I won't be there to see you lose you faith in me. You believed in me, and saw me in a way no body ever has before. You thought I was a better man than I gave myself credit for.

I hope my death isn't in vain, that it makes amends for my actions and helps you end this madness. That you get the bad guy. My greatest desire is that you find love and happiness for yourself. You deserve the world Emily, I wish I had been a better man to be able to give it to you.

Sincerely,

Douglas

P.S. For what it's worth, I stand with you Emily and the decisions you make going forward. I know they will be the right ones.

[admiringtheskies]

there are many top-tier takes on this in the tags, but for my preferred version: the batkid’s success rate is a solid 0% and bruce victory-smirks at them every time… EXCEPT for cass, who has a very respectable 68.52% running success rate (this is in fact the exact number, bc come on, between bruce, tim and babs, at LEAST one of them is definitely keeping a log of this shit just for kicks). she IS also the one kid who bruce would totally cave to if she just asked normally, but let’s be real, this girl is a chaos gremlin who LOVES the challenge (because yes, cass can solo any of the batfam INCLUDING BRUCE in a purely physical fight, but bruce is one of the few people in the world, and most likely the only one of the batfam, who she does actually have to put a significant effort into beating at General Physical-Prowess-Affiliated Ninja SkillsTM, and you can fight me on this). alfred doesn’t play the game very often, but everybody Knows that his standing prize is blanket permission to replace ALL of bruce’s go-to coffee with… regular coffee, without any glaring or pouting. (bruce’s ‘regular coffee’ is a extra-strong variety of the already-could-probably-kill-a-man Death Wish Coffee, which is real and on my bucket list of random things to try btw, that he custom-orders from the ppl who make the publicly-available stuff. most of the kids think it tastes like shit, which it does — however, bruce’s coffee cups have been made strictly off-limits for tim, and that rule is one of the few that’s religiously enforced by EVERYBODY in the batfam, because even if they refuse to admit it, bruce and alfred are both TERRIFIED at the prospect of ever having to deal with tim juiced up on that stuff. bruce is also extremely careful to keep his cups away from dick on the rare days when he decides to indulge his own fondness of milk and sugar. okay, sorry, mini-coffee-tangent over now!) if alfred did it as often as cass and the other batkids do, then his success rate would probably be only slightly lower than cass’s — however, alfred’s running success rate is actually 100%, because he only ever plays when he knows that bruce has overworked himself to the point of needing intervention. in a pleasant surprise, it turned out that him winning the game was a reliable way of proving to bruce/forcing him to accept that his exhaustion was definitively severe enough to make him a liability in the field. (and to be clear, that 100% success rate when bruce has exhausted himself ONLY applies to alfred — the few times when the kids haven’t also been in crisis mode WITH him when he gets to that point, bruce has still caught them every time they’ve made an attempt, and cass’s success rate stays about the same no matter how tired he is. it’s specifically the fact that bruce has known alfred literally his entire life, so once his brain reaches the critical point where he becomes literally physically incapable of sustaining his normal level of hypervigilance anymore, the ambient sound alfred makes is pretty much the first to be essentially flagged by his brain as “not worth spending energy on to catalog consciously”.)

"if you manage to surprise attack Bruce and win, you get a trip to McDonalds" except all of the Batkids are actual adults and continue randomly jumping off banisters and trying to tackle Bruce in the hallway in the middle of the night and still can't figure out how to win

anyway that's all to say that I was thinking about 250 lb Jason Todd just suddenly hurling himself at Bruce in a rear naked choke and getting flipped over Bruce's shoulder immediately into the coffee table despite a) Bruce having both hands full when said attack began and b) both of them being fully grown, mature adults doing this right in front of Alfred

[aboutitnot]

fuck you.

i don’t like you.

i don’t want to be around you.

you’re not nice to me in the ways that matter

and i can’t bring myself to be patient with you.

fuck you.

i’m done.

this is the last time i’m going to do this with you.

i’m done.

i’m saving all my money from here on out.

i’m scrounging.

going sober.

working out.

and getting he fuck out of here.

i’m going to get my own bed in my own space

and i’m not going to deal with you anymore.

this was the last time i needed to hide how things are

from now on i’m taking care of me.

i’m not going to worry about it care about you.

it doesn’t matter.

i didn’t want to hold your hand today.

i wanted to be on my own.

i didn’t like to talk to you.

you can’t be with me

you never could. ever. not even fucking once could you just sit and be focused on me.

not once. not ever. fuck you.

fuck you fuck you fuck you.

i’ve have two absolute bottom lines be crossed.

you called my mom.

you brought her into this train wreck.

and you’re not even sorry.

you’re not apologetic.

fuck you.

i’m not telling you anything anymore.

you get nothing from me you asshole.

and you took me off of the ring.

becuase you were mad.

you took away part of the security of where we. i. live.

fuck you.

you tried to give it back.

i don’t fucking want it.

i’m not going to put myself in a situation where my safety and security can be taken away just because you’re upset.

fuck you.

i’m done.

i’m so fucking done.

i’m not drinking with you anymore.

if we have sex it’s not going to mean anything.

i’m going to fucking use you and it’s going to be terrible.

i shouldn’t do it

but you’re my only fucking option.

i’m not a cheater.

i’m not a home wrecker.

so i have to have sex with him. that’s all i fucking get.

someone i can’t stand. someone i don’t fucking care about. someone who can’t be kind to me.

who can’t just be with me. who never could.

i need to stop myself. i need to put up that boundary even if it sucks.

we’re not having sex.

we’re not.

i’m not dressing for him anymore.

it’s for me. its because i want to look fucking amazing and let everyone know that i’m fucking worth it.

if he can’t handle me being me then he can fuck right off.

i’m going to look great because i look great.

i don’t fucking care what he thinks. he’s an asshole who’s never satisfied and can only find fault in everything.

he’s just a fucking guy.

just another fucking guy.

and i’m done asking for his permission or approval.

or looking for his attention.

because i’m done.

it doesn’t matter what the fuck i do.

he’s still an asshole.

and i’m still worthwhile.

i’m not going to beg for approval or attention anymore.

if he wants me he can fucking put in the effort.

and he’s not ever going to.

he’s going to skate by on the minimum.

be kind when it suits him.

ignore me unless he wants to get his fucking dick wet.

because he’s just a fucking guy.

i’m nothing else to him. nothing else.

fuck that.

i’m done trying. there’s nothing there worth trying for. i’m done.

i’m so fucking done.

i don’t want to spend another holiday like this.

i don’t want to go to bed like this every night.

i want to sleep in a bed.

i want to have my own space.

i don’t want to work around him anymore.

i’m done.

i’m done.

i’m done.

this is the year we break up.

this is the year i say goodbye.

i’m not doing this anymore.

it’ll probably be the summer. or earlier.

but i should give it until then.

i need to get through my degree.

i need to pay off my surgery.

but i can make due on just a little.

i don’t need new things.

i just need to get rid of the old ones and start fresh.

i’m not going to drink anymore with him.

not after this. its not fun. it feels bad.

fuck him.

i would use him like i guess i have been.

but it hasn’t meant anything more to me for a long time.

i don’t remember the last time that i felt connected. together. a team.

i don’t remember our fights either.

i just want to be done.

i want it to be over.

maybe i’m getting ready to call it.

something in me broke. and since then it’s only been a matter of time.

but before that even. when i was upset and running through all the worst that could happen

and then in that i said that i wanted a divorce.

as i was playing out all the worst scenarios to get myself through them

and god the relief that flooded over me when i said those words.

the weight that lifted off of me.

the peace from admitting it and letting it be put out there.

i can’t forget that.

i have known for a very long time that we have an expiration date.

i guess it’s now.

it’s passed.

the best years are behind us.

and i don’t want to wait around until he finds something he likes more to leave this for.

i would rather leave on my own. and cut all ties.

and go no contact completely.

i bet i could cut him off pretty securely.

maybe i’d even move.

who knows.

i don’t want to be angry and resentful anymore.

he should be happy.

and i don’t want to have to suffer for it anymore.

we don’t fucking fit.

we never really did.

and it sucks and it hurts but fuck that.

i lost myself and i built myself around a person who would not do that for me.

who would not be there for me.

and looking forward to all the things that life has

i just don’t want to do them with him.

maybe i could find other people.

but i don’t want to do them with him.

it feels so shitty.

so shitty.

i’m done.

i’m done.

i’m tried and i’m drunk and i don’t want to fight anymore and i don’t want to feel bad about myself the way he makes me feel bad and i just want to be done with it all.

i want to have the chance to experience someone else.

i don’t want a partner.

i don’t want anything like that.

i want an escape. i want a fantasy.

i want something that doesn’t really matter.

because i’m done making myself into something im not just to chase the approval and attention of someone who doesn’t fucking care about me.

fuck that.

fuck you.

i don’t like you.

you bug me. you annoy me. and frustrate me.

there’s history and when i’m drunk i do things that sober me would hate.

i don’t think you realize how much of our relationship has been held together by things i put myself through when im drunk.

drunk me would let you fuck me.

sober me wants to move out.

drunk me makes out with you.

sober me doesn’t want you to touch me.

i need to be done with us.

i can’t keep pushing for something that feels so bad and that there’s no good coming from.

i’m done. i need to be done.

i need to not think about you and not worry about you.

i don’t want to talk to you or plan with you or share anything with you.

i don’t want you to know me. or feel like you have any entitlement to me because you fucking don’t.

i need to take you off my documents. you don’t have any right to them. and i don’t trust you to do the right thing.

fuck you.

i love you and i miss you and im so fucking done.