#and a longer time still (and im still working on this) to learn to continue to enjoy and interact with that music without feeling guilt for

[flamboyant-king]

Hey babes, sorry I've been dead, but I coulda been literally dead if I had not gone.

I didn't hurt myself and we're still figuring things out. I would love to share but I've already forgotten what I've learned. I hope I get more guidance and time for healing and learning on how to lead my life in a better direction than where I was. But that takes time and effort.

I hope to get some rest, get some support, and get it together. But right now, I don't think it's healthy for me to worry about art in the way I do now. I may not express it here, but trying to maintain my art endeavors/projects while there's so much bullshit going on backstage is not helping me. Especially since I'm not even obligated to do so. But trying to force myself to do something I am currently unable to do will just make me feel worse. I'll follow my dreams and passions one day, but I've been putting off the healing process for years.

So I guess it's better to get better now so I can get the ball rolling again. Why drive on a flat tire?

[luxpenumbra]

ugh ohmygod so I saw this post and it made me so mad that I simultaneously wanted to reblog it just to rant in the tags and to not reblog it so that I could avoid sharing it with /more/ people

listen. music is universal. when a singer, songwriter, producer, lyricist, musician, team puts something out into the world, there may be emotions that they are trying to put into it. They will draw on these emotions as they perform and edit and refine this thing they are making. There may be a story they are trying to tell, an experience they are trying to communicate, and this may not be straightforward; there is a level of abstraction between conceptualization and realization that I am convinced exists to some level in all pieces of art like this. This is not a flaw; this is marvellous. When I the listener interact with a song, or an album, or an artist's entire body of work - the emotions that I feel and the story that is conveyed to me may be just. absolutely different from the artist's intentions and their own experience. It may resonate with me in an entirely different way than intended; it may resonate with someone else in a separate, distinct, discrete way. My and others' awareness of the artist and any context they have made clear may play a part in this or it may not; it depends on how I interact with music and how readily available this information is.

All this is to say: the only fucked up thing with this whole gaylor shit is the part where people are convinced that their interpretation of her music and the way it resonates with them indicates some fundamental truth about her identity. The only person who knows that is her and frankly it's none of anyone else's business and it's probably not that interesting anyway. But!!! this does not mean that her music cannot resonate with someone's experience of queerness!!!! It is story and song and a vehicle for emotion, and the details that make something sing true to someone's life and values are not pinned to the artist's "true identity" like a fuckin. butterfly to a corkboard. there is VALUE and DELIGHT in being aware of some additional dimension of queerness by virtue of the singers intentions or identity or whatever but that's a fucking BONUS you NIMRODS the only thing you need is a heart to feel things and a song to feel them about it's about YOU and how you interpret things. you change things just by existing!!! the only person to experience a song the way you do is YOU!!! "if I wanna listen to gay music I'll listen to gay ppl singing about gay sex" good for you!! but what a sad and limited life you must lead to need the significance and meaning of art spoonfed to you by author bios.

AND THEN. fucking condescending ass AAAAAAAH listen. christian rock can slap. i say this as someone who is markedly not christian. and even if you don't think it slaps that's fine. but the fact that someone's out here going "oh poor limited babies who've never listened to real proper good music before projecting sasanaru onto christian rock because they've never known anything else" grow uppppp!!! first of all!!! nobody. NOBODY. is out here saying 10,000 reasons by matt whatever is about sasuke and naruto kissing. you know this in your heart of hearts, just like you know deep down that there is VALUE in eking out meaning in places where you don't expect to find it, and in places that have some connection to the earliest parts of you. (and even if you aren't doing this, aren't interacting with the context of the music and its genre, see above re:universal fucking language). you've probably done it before. it's tumblr, land of transformative works and webweaving of course you have. how limited in scope must you be to think that people who listen to a genre you don't value but who are also queer or something must be just poor deprived children, limited in resource, waiting for that next evolution i'm gonna weep. anyway listen to relient k cowards

[arolesbianism]

Oh baby my brain is crashing

[satoruly]

𝘿𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙎 𝙃𝙄𝙈 𝙐𝙋 .ᐟ.ᐟ

costumes that the jjk men would wear for halloween

includes. toji fushiguro, satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami

tags/warnings. fluff, no curse!au, i like to think gojo's is a college au too, suggestive, mentions of oral in toji's, gojo is called a slut (jokingly), fake blood.

a/n. i love satoru i swear and suguru's is so cheesy idk if i cringe or not idc i think he's lovely. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

got a request? click here !!

𝘀𝗶𝗺𝗼𝗻 '𝗴𝗵𝗼𝘀𝘁' 𝗿𝗶𝗹𝗲𝘆 ₊˚⊹ 𝘁. 𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗴𝘂𝗿𝗼

“I look ridiculous.”

“I bet you don’t,” you spoke from where you sat on the bed, legs crisscrossed as you waited for your boyfriend to come out from the bathroom “Just show me”

He had taken longer than you thought to get ready, longer than you had, but in retrospect, you guess you should’ve seen it coming with the amount of belts you had handed to him and no instructions to work with, you guess it was really on you. 

“This was a mistake.” He mumbled through pursed lips once he came out, looking off to the side, his slightly overgrown hair obscuring his eyes. Without the vest and belt, it was practically an everyday outfit for him, a navy blue hoodie with a pair of blue cargo pants. The latter did differ from his day-to-day wear but it was okay, he was gonna wear his New Balance sneakers once you were ready to leave so it cancelled out. 

“I want to suck your dick so bad right now.” 

“I look like a glorified back-pack”

“Where did you learn the word glorified?” You joked, though only half-heartily because you were too busy staring at your boyfriend’s thighs concealed by not only way too tight pants but by very tight garters. You wished he would keep them on the daily. Luckily though, your primitive brain had no completely taken over and so you were able to process his lack of response to your off-handed blow job proposition.

“Im wearing kneepads like a fucking loser.” He raised his knee to emphasize his point, letting his foot rest on the ottoman at the end of the bed and practically throwing the skeleton mask you hadn’t noticed he had been holding on top of the covers. 

You stood up, gave him a once look over and walked towards him cupping his face with your palms. One of your thumbs rubbed the skin of his cheek now coated by a very subtle pink, one you’d only be able to notice if you squinted. 

“You don’t look like a loser, personally I think you look very very hot,” you assured him, “but if you really don’t like it you don’t have to wear it, we can find something else for Satoru’s party.”

He huffed, unconsciously leaning against the warmth of your palms, eyebrows still twisted into a frown. “It’s not that, just— you’d really suck me off dressed like this?”

You hummed, giving him a light peck on the lips before trailing your hands down his chest, ignoring the plate carrier that bulked him up more than he already was. 

“Like now?” You could hear the smirk in his voice, the usual sultriness it carried back where it was meant to be.

“Depends,” you pondered, biting back a smile at the suggestiveness. “How long ‘till we have to leave?”

He cursed at the number of pockets he had to go through before finding his phone stashed on the back of his pants, eagerly examining the time and then showing the lit-up screen to you. “Like 30 minutes.”

“Then sure,” you looked up at him, not breaking eye contact as you undid his utility belt, letting it fall to the floor before slowly working to unzip his pants. “I’ll be quick."

𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗴 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗼𝗷𝗼

“I was gonna buy the tights but the imprint of my d—”

“Okay! We are changing the subject…” You almost slapped your palm over your boyfriend’s mouth before he could continue. Successfully [stopping] Shoko and Utahime from hearing the not-so-safe-for-work details of your costume shopping trip.

Looking back, it was kind of funny. Satoru wasn’t all that fond of superheroes but one singular video of a hot guy on his fyp was more than enough to convince him he was willing to commit to the transformation. In reality, you’re sure he just wanted to wear the tights. That's why he almost cried when all the ones at the costume shop turned out too small to cover his ankles.

He had tried his best to make it work but to no avail and had settled instead for a black pair of cargo pants, and though they weren’t the classic Nightwing tights he had envisioned, you swore they were so much better.

“It’s nice,” Shoko pointed out, taking a drag of her cigarette, directly juxtaposing her surgeon costume. The scrubs and lab coat she wore were likely taken from the faculty of medicine last minute. “Thought you’d use Halloween as an excuse to dress up sluttier though.”

His offended gasp almost made you burst out laughing, the hand you had used to shut him up still muffling his dramatics.

“Oh, he’s a slut alright.” You joked, now resting your hand on his chest and taking a sip of your drink to hide your smile as your boyfriend decided to run with your joke.

“Yeah exactly,” he chuckled, leaning against your head and smushing his cheek in the process and circling one of his arms around your waist. He couldn’t spend a single moment not touching you, and though you played tough, you couldn’t help but lean against his touch every single time. “It’s the energy.”

And it sure was. Even if his current costume was way more tame than the bunny boy one he had chosen last year, he was still giving ‘slut’.

Although you were quick to shut down his previous comment, you’d be lying if you said the mildly accurate costume didn’t do things to you. For one, props to him for making progress at the gym. The loose material stretched out over his thighs every time he made the slightest flexing motion. Sitting, standing, going up the stairs, no matter what he did was a sight for sore eyes. Then, you had the compression long-sleeved he wore. Though it technically was a “costume” and not a compression shirt, it still hugged his arms and chest so deliciously you swore you could moan. 

And of course, how could you forget about his ass. 

“And what are you supposed to be?” Utahime asked, looking at your pleated pants, loose light blue shirt with most of the top buttons undone, and a pair of sunglasses.

“A slut.” You shrugged, enjoying their confusion until it finally clicked.

“You’re dressed as him!”

𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗹 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗴𝗼𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝘀. 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝗼

“Nope, we need another one.” 

Suguru groaned in dismay, so close to banging his head against the door frame as you rejected yet another costume you had suggested, or more so, insisted he should wear. At this point of the day, he was sure his skin was sore from the constant friction of multiple garments’ fabrics. 

“Why? I think this one’s good.”

You tilted your head, looking him up and down before pursing your lips. You won't deny he looked good. He always looked good. But, “We’re going to a costume party.”

“So? This is a costume.” 

“Yeah but…” You trailed off, wondering if he’d take personal offense for the comment you were about to make regarding his fashion sense. “It kinda just looks like you.”

Now it was time for him to tilt his head in confusion, squinting at you as if to prompt you to elaborate and you sighed before continuing, “Besides the boots, actually, no, you do use those, it's pretty much a normal outfit for you.”

He looked down at himself, eyes meticulously scanning every inch of his body to then look up at you. “I’ve never worn a poet shirt before.”

“But the vibe,” you pointed at him up and down with your hand, “is there.”

“What vibe? Suguru Geto from the 19th century?”

“Ish? Yeah.” You agreed, standing in front of him to fix the collar of his shirt. “You look like you belong in a romanticism painting minus the high-waisted pants, which fyi make your ass look great.”

He chuckled, turning around to stand in front of the full-body mirror next to your vanity to check himself out, subtly taking a peak at his ass. It did look really good in those pants.

“Let me try the necklace and you can decide.” He grabbed the thin chain and gave it to you for help. Holding his hair up, he couldn’t yet again chuckle at the reflection as you tried to stand up on your tip toes to hook the clasp around his neck. 

It added some depth, he thought. The white shirt and black pants combo was something he would wear. The added jewellery made it look a little less like him, but the matching earrings were still missing.

“—and I know what you’re thinking, so I got these.” 

You stretched your palm in front of him, a pair of new gauges resting on it. Unlike his, they weren’t black, more so a pale golden color. 

“They match the color of the necklace and if you want to wear the earrings you can loop them through there.” You pointed out, and upon closer inspection, once he held them in his hands, he could see there was a little hole at the bottom of them. “But you can also not wear them if you don’t wanna, thought it'd be a nice detail.”

“I thought you weren’t sure about the costume,” he kissed the top of your head, mumbling ‘thank you’, and carefully slipped off the ones he was wearing. The way you beamed as he started doing so didn’t you escape him, and it made him all the more eager to try them on even if they felt cold against his skin and were out of his comfort zone. He had never really been a fan of gold on himself.

“Eh, I might’ve been more committed than I let on.” You hugged his waist, looking at him through the mirror as he grabbed Howl’s dangly earrings. He looked pretty. “What do you think? Looks good?”

He hummed, shaking his head slightly and chuckling at the earrings swishing against his skin. He wasn’t used to wearing those, it felt funny. “It’s still missing something though.”

“What’s missing?” You asked as he moved fully in front of you. He pressed his thumb in the middle of your furrowed brows before kissing your forehead and then giving you a quick pick on the lips.

“The matching promise rings.”

𝗽𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗻 ₊˚⊹ 𝗸. 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶

“You’ve always wanted to murder your coworkers, now you can pretend you have!”

“I’m never wearing this outfit again.”

“See! You can even make the references, it’s perfect.”

But you had to give it to him, it would be much more of a costume if he wasn’t wearing a suit that closely resembled what he used to wear for work. A fitted black suit, a crisp, freshly ironed shirt and a red tie, everything covered up by a transparent raincoat. And to be fair, the plastic did make a funny noise whenever he walked. 

The only missing piece of the costume was the blood, which led you to where you were, standing over old newspapers in case you stained the kitchen floor. 

“You’re enjoying this way too much.” He shook his head as you walked around him with a bottle of fake blood, excitedly pouring the runny liquid into strategic places for it to look organic like he had actually killed someone. He wasn’t a Halloween nor a dress-up fanatic per se, but the promise of a good costume party had set you off into a never-ending search for the perfect costume until you had finally settled on one. The perfect one.

You nodded at his words, carefully creating a couple of splotches with a paintbrush before you could finally admire your masterpiece. “Now the only thing we are missing is your face?”

“Pardon?”

“We gotta put some blood on your face.” You said sitting up on the counter, careful not to knock down the FX makeup kit you had gotten. Making space between your legs, you pulled him from his belt loops towards you, and automatically, his hands positioned themselves right on top of your hips. Without you needing to tell him, he leaned closer to you, lowering his height just enough for you to reach his face properly.

“That was not part of our deal.” Yet, he stayed as still as possible as you used a smaller dropper to carefully apply the liquid to his temple close to his hairline. 

“Close your eyes.” He did as you said, and you proceeded to imitate the splotches without staining his whole face, just his forehead and cheeks. Some of it dripped down his eyebrow and towards his eye, but you caught it fast enough for it to not stain his lashes. Hopefully, that’d be the only ‘liability’ you’d experience for the night, you really didn’t want his shirt to stain. “And we are done!”

You grabbed your phone and turned on your front camera for him to look at himself.

“What do you think?”

He stared at his reflection for a couple of seconds trying to figure out if he liked it or not. While he did so, he couldn’t help but subtly flicker from you back to him a couple of times, looking at your eyes creasing in excitement. The warm smile on your lips was contagious, the way you scrunched your nose when he kissed your forehead as if scared he’d get ‘blood’ on you too cute, and so he couldn’t help the gentler one that appeared on his. 

“I like it a lot.”

© all works belong to satoruly

[nonbinarypirat]

education vs. fascism in iruma-kun

someone mentioned this in another post but iruma-kun does a wonderful job of showing that education is key to fighting fascist and harmful radical ideas. As soon as it became clear that things were going to change in the netherworld what was Sullivan's response? It wasn't "oh we need to send spies" or "we need to find the people" (though im sure people are working hard to find those answers) it was "we need to focus on educating our students." Because only knowledge and diversity in thoughts can combat fascist ideas. The issue only becomes worse with a lack of understanding and an echo chamber. And by doubling down with education, we can make sure our students are prepared for what lies ahead. Thats how we truly fight the power.

The teachers themselves can tell that things are changing. They stay informed and guess what? its obvious things are about to throw down soon. And so they work tirelessly not just because it's their jobs, but because they need to. this is their protest. this is how we can prevent the spread of gross rhetoric. And after Heartbreaker what they do? they double down on their education too. Because there is always something new to learn, always a way to grow/sharpen your strength. They too know that they can't stay stagnant, they must continue pushing to provide their students with the best chance of survival.

When you have villians that believe in these ideas in media, there's a big issue of them leaving out education as a weapon. But it's crucial if we want anything to truly change. Iruma himself wants to no longer be naive about the netherworld which was growing to be an issue the longer he stays. because yeah, you can't stay uninformed anymore iruma. its time to learn about the history of you new home and the leaders. taking being the king out of it, ignorance about these topics is a breeding ground for becoming complacent. iruma wants to be a hero? or at least, do the right thing when he can? that requires knowledge to make sure you aren't inadvertently hurting someone along the way.

Iruma loves the netherworld, the place he proudly calls home. but it's frought with danger and cruel people. And yet, Iruma is still proud of his new home and friends and wants to do anything he can to stay here. This reflects real life, where there is goodness and pride in the place you live and yet a faction of people who taint it with othering ideas. However, it's always worth fighting for the good overall and bettering yourself so you can see another tomorrow through. Iruma knows he can only protect himself and his loved ones is through learning. And I love Nishi for truly understanding this too. You can't fight fascism through pure will, it has to be beaten by education and the williness to better one's knowledge. That is how we will take back the Netherworld.

but yeah, this is just my little spiel as someone who loves educational activism and is going to school to become a teacher :). If i can find the original post I'll make sure to credit the op!

[so-mordor-itis]

Behind Her Eyes

Synopsis: Ada continues to track down the amber while also running into you and Leon time and time again. Hopefully, she won't have any more distractions than she has been given. After all, she's just doing her job.

Sequel to Through Her Eyes

N/A: THIS IS BEEFY!! I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY!

WC: 3k.

Taglist: @amatxs , @airanke , @uhlunaro , @honeyfict , @im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @pepsicolacoochie , @inaflashimagine , @phoenix666stuff , @rentaldarling , @boiled-onionrings , @auxenpin-it , @starbirdfinch , @m4nd0l0r , @mahalaraewolfe , @mobbbb1 , @konigbabe , @izuniias , @tosuckmyweenis @boundinparchment

"You long to be bandaged before you have been cut." –Margaret Atwood

—

"You can stop right there, Leon. Wouldn't make me use this, would you?" Ada had pressed her pistol to one of his shoulder blades. She cocked it, letting it sit against his shirt for a second. She wanted him to know she was willing to use it if required. She meant business.

Leon dropped his weapon a second later. "Well, after six years, that's one hell of a greeting, Ada." He said her name with a bit of a bite. Not quite a sneer, but teetering toward that territory. "What's the occasion?"

Ada just smirked, tilting her head to the side. She wanted to get under his skin, because if she didn't he wouldn't be curious, and if he didn't become curious then her plan of action to steer him away from the amber would fall through the floor. He may have become more rigid with his movements, a bit snappier with his sentences, but he was still the same rookie cop she met back in Raccoon. "You don't seem surprised. Interesting."

With a single step, he attempted to grab the gun from her hand. Ada retaliated, leading to dance with Leon's knife. She blocked it several times, hoping to lead it away from anything fatal. He caught her slightly off guard when the hilt of his blade touched the red turtleneck she was wearing, and she paused. Maybe he had learned more than she thought.

"Try using knives next time," Leon said, "Better for close encounters."

"Very smooth," Ada responded. "You've learned a few tricks."

Leon ignored her comment. "Who are you working for this time? Definitely not the FBI."

"Oh, Leon," Ada tutted. "You know I don't work and tell."

Leon released the knife from her throat, placing it back into the pouch on his left shoulder. Ada observed him for a moment. He was wary, she could tell from the way he was looking around the room. Ada had a bite back a frown. His eyes were different now. His pupils were yellowish, and whites were now a bit cloudy. They must've drugged him, or maybe he was infected like the girl and the rest of Saddler's lackies. She didn't comment on it. Wasn't her place.

She didn't know what happened to you if you two split up or you simply wandered from him and lost your footing. All she knew was that she found him in this room and finally decided to show herself–well, more than she had when he was being attacked by the taller man in the trench coat. Though she had to admit it was intriguing that you weren't with him.

"Where's your little partner?" Ada asked, "I'd thought they'd be tagging alongside you."

Leon furrowed his brows. "That's something I'd like to know, too. I turned my back for one second, and suddenly, they're gone. This whole damn castle is a maze." He wasn't surprised Ada knew about you, either.

"How troubling," she murmured.

Leon didn't reply. He was lost in his own thoughts. His right hand clenched into a fist. A plan was swimming in his mind, but Ada didn't want to concentrate too hard on him.

"You should give up on the girl," she continued. "She's lost no matter what." Ada eyed the window, moonlight shining through in brilliant lines of white. She couldn't stay much longer. "You walk away now, and who knows? I might give you the greeting you were hoping for."

Leon didn't look impressed, and that made something coil in Ada's chest. "You think I'm gonna give up? Simply leave? You're wrong for thinking so." His voice was laced with annoyance.

Ada just looked at him. "Right." Opening the window, she used her grappling hook to latch onto one of the ledges of the castle. "See you around, Leon."

Though he tried to look more irritated, she saw his eyes soften for a slight second–or maybe her mind was starting to slip. She was a bit tired, but she couldn't give that any thought. Ada shook that off her shoulders the moment she landed on one of the roof shingles. One crunched under her foot as she prepared to give another report to Wesker.

–

She found you before he did. You were out of bullets, poor thing.

Hunched over a chair, you were taking a glimpse at an old map of the castle. The paper was brown and torn apart, it would've been a miracle if you could've actually interpreted the damn thing.

"Fuck," you moaned. "Why did they have to build so many passages? What is this, the 1500s?"

Ada had to prevent herself from rolling her eyes. You and Leon were definitely a lot alike. You both spoke to yourselves, talking as if there was an audience. She wondered what the point was, if it gave you two satisfaction.

A sudden thump echoed from one of the many doors in the room. Robed figures, all muttering phrases in Spanish, carried torches and maces. Your face soured into a deeply tired look. From what Ada could understand, you had empty rounds, and your knife was broken–it was on top of the table you placed the map upon, the metal pieces covering the brown paper.

The figures got closer to you, and Ada watched as your eyes fixated on one of the doors. You could try to make a run for it, bolt to the door in hopes you could find more resources. Though, how realistic is that? Ada thought.

She found herself subconsciously feeling for one of her flash grenades. Was she really going to help you at the cost of her own resources? That'd be a bit of a waste. She could easily find herself in a similar situation.

Though it would turn out she didn't need to. Your eyes brightened as you shuffled for something in your pocket. A grenade of your own, but not of the flash variety. You pulled the trigger with your teeth before tossing it.

She flew through the window to avoid the blast. From where she was, she would've definitely felt something.

Ada was a bit disappointed. She could've told Leon he owed her another favor.

She bit her lip before reaching for her radio and tracing through each signal. She estimated the closest one to her was Leon, and she guessed right.

"Leon, change your mind yet?"

"Ada?" He was surprised.

"Assuming you haven't, I got a tip for you," Ada glanced back into the castle. More robed figures began marching through doors, their speed picking up with every second. "Seems like something big is about to go down in the throne room. I also found your little friend. They're heading in that direction. Babysitting's tough, huh?"

She hung up her signal right after.

–

Ada didn't bother backtracking again. It would've torn a chunk of her time away.

She hated that something inside her wanted to.

She had radioed to him again later on, giving what she knew he'd want. He wasn't as rough as he was to her previously, perhaps because you were now there to calm his storm, or maybe he just decided to be less harsh. She didn't know, and she wanted to force herself not to care.

He wasn't her's anymore.

–

"Looking for these?" Ada dangled the keys to the boat you two occupied. Leon had been attempting to scavenge them but couldn't manage to. It was her boat, these keys were hers. She could've easily allowed you two to be deserted and not find the girl again. However, she was feeling rather generous.

She tossed them to Leon, and you eyed her form. Your brows furrowed as if you were attempting to recall if you've met her. You two haven't, technically. She knew who you were by bits and pieces, and that's all she needed. "I could use a ride myself."

You and Leon exchanged glances, but she knew ultimately that they wouldn't be given a choice. Leon knew, too. "Fine." He said.

You sat in the back, Leon very cautiously sat in the passenger’s seat because Ada offered to drive. Leon tried to be subtle about it, but Ada noticed. He glanced at you for a second before putting his eyes back to the ocean in front of him.

He was holding back words, and she knew it. "You look like you've got something to say." Ada claimed. He didn't just look it. It radiated off of his skin, and he spoke it with his eyes. He was questioning himself about why she was here, and it kept floating around inside that mind of his.

Though, she would admit she was being unfair, asking this in front of you.

Leon just said, "Nothing." And Ada clicked her tongue.

"Hm."

"Why are you here, Ada?" He blurted. It was too late to catch himself.

"As I told you, Leon, I don't work and tell."

Ada peered at you, giving a side eyed glance. You weren't asking her questions, nor were you giving her any type of expression. Your body language wasn't indicating you felt anything but indifference. You were keeping to your own business. (You glanced at Leon a few times, keeping tabs, watching his reactions. You knew him, too, it seemed.)

How polite.

Or perhaps you felt vexed and wanted to slit her throat right then and there. Either way, you were good at hiding it. (She noticed your pupils, the whites of your eyes. You were also infected, and she wondered if Leon knew, too.)

"I'm stopping here," Ada said shortly. There was a ridge up ahead on a rock she could grapple from. Krauser now had the sample, and he was making her job so much harder than it needed to be.

She stopped the boat just enough so she could stand. Ada pulled herself up. She looked back at him and winked. "Don't think too hard, handsome. See you later." The momentum of her pushing her body weight off the boat caused it to rock the both of you back and forth, Leon fought to steady it.

From the ledge, Ada could barely make out your voices.

"Old flame?" You questioned.

"Something like that," Leon grumbled in response. "It's not relevant."

"Alright, you just seemed so bothered by her."

"She's…" He paused. "Something else."

Ada expected a different phrase from him but was pleasantly surprised.

"She seems interesting."

"I don't want to think about her. Let's just focus on Ashley."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Leon's voice was softer now. "Yeah, I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me."

"What if I want to?"

Ada removed herself from the area and continued forward, not wanting to listen to anymore of your conversation.

–

Her carrier pigeon was no longer alive, creating a bigger problem. Luis had told Ada the amber was on the island, and Saddler had kept a tight leash on it. That wasn't a surprise, really. It contained the very being he and his cult worshiped. And, to make her workload harder, Krauser contained a sample of the plaga that Wesker would find fascinating. What he would do with it, she had no idea.

"Where on the island, Luis?" She inquired, flexing her fingers as she observed her nails.

"I'll take you there, just…" He paused to scratch his stubble. "Just let me finish some business first."

"May I remind you, you're under thin ice? Better to cooperate, baby."

"Alright, it's…it's in the very middle of the island. It'll be surrounded by Ganados and other not so friendly things."

She never ran into the not so friendly beings, but she did encounter many Ganados that were too trigger happy. The island itself was mostly constructed to be a weapon base–it was so obviously guarding something. With barbed wire traps and metal buildings and caves full of laboratories.

She found the amber eventually in a secluded area. It was grossly beautiful, leaving an orange glow on the floor that was reflected off of a light in the room. The smaller parasites inside reminded her of Umbrella's lab specimens. Removing this larger rock would be an issue; there would need to be a strong distraction, one that would hold their attention long enough for her to give her helicopter friend a signal to load it on.

Leon.

He would have to be her distraction.

And he was.

–

The girl lay upon a sacrificial table, black veins crawling up her arms. Leon's veins popped from his arms, blackened as the girl's. You were in the same boat, groaning in pain on your knees as Saddler began to control the parasite from within.

Ada had two choices. She could allow you and Leon to die here, being suffocated by the plaga in your systems, or she could risk it all.

Ada couldn't do it. She couldn't let him die.

She pulled out her TMP and shot Saddler with what seemed to be the entire round. "Go, Leon!" She shouted to him. "Before it's too late!"

He fell forward, catching his breath. He grabbed your shoulder and then went for Ashley, picking her up bridal style. The two of you began to push yourselves forward, but she couldn't watch now. "That's six times now, Leon." She mumbled.

Saddler managed to squeeze out every last bullet Ada had thrown at him. She had two more guns, but it wouldn't be enough. All she could do was buy more time for you guys. Maybe that's all you needed.

It wasn't long before she only had her pistol left. Saddler used one of his appendages to grab her by the leg and slammed her down on the ground. Her ears rang so loud she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat. Her mouth tasted of iron. She might've bitten her tongue without realizing it. One more smack to the head, and her world went black.

What woke her up was the hard smack of landing on the ground. Her vision was a bit blurry, but she could make Leon's figure. He was holding his pistol. You were nowhere to be found.

Ada quickly got on her feet, approaching him as Saddler appeared from behind, transforming into a hideous creature, further reminding Ada of the experiments she witnessed in the Umbrella underground lab. It had been six years, but those images would never be removed. They were stuck to her mind like glue.

Just like back then, he was her partner once more, but Ada had a feeling this would be the final time.

–

Saddler was defeated with a blow from a rocket launcher. Ada took a deep breath, rubbing her arms as they screamed at her with ache. It was over. Now, she just had to get on the damn helicopter. She gave her men the signal to grab the amber during the fight, while Leon kept him occupied, dancing to his tune. She felt a little more bad this time; she'd used him again.

The sample of the plaga rolled out of Saddler's staff and onto the ground next to Leon. Ada grabbed it before Leon could blink.

"Ada? What the hell?"

She glanced at the bottle of purple liquid with curiosity. "Nothing personal, Leon. Just business." Ada pulled a device out of her pocket and pressed a button that said,"Detonate. " She had to get rid of the evidence, after all. "Though, I definitely recommend you leave. Now."

Leon got the hint, and he sprung to his feet, his eyes wide. Ashley. You. Ada knew immediately to whom his mind went.

Her ride appeared a millisecond later, and she strided toward it, no regrets in her gait. She turned to him. "You coming?" Part of her knew his answer already, but the other part wanted him to ditch everything and just come. Come with her, talk to her. Maybe they could fix things.

"You and I both know this is where we go back to what we were, Ada," Leon said, looking her directly in the eye. "It's time to go separate ways."

"Unsurprising," she clicked her tongue, finally meeting where the helicopter leveled for her to board. She jumped, landing gracefully. "Catch," she shouted, throwing another pair of keys at him. "It's your ride home."

Leon glanced to his palm and shook his head. His lips mouthed something, but the helicopter blades were too loud for her to hear. She watched his now tiny form sprint in the opposite direction, probably now headed your way.

"You got it?" Ada demanded, placing a headset atop her ears. Helicopters were always so loud that she could never hear herself think.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Put me in," she followed. Wesker needed to know his precious Amber was secured.

A part of her wished she could see Leon one more time. To tell him things she never could.

Beneath her serious look, she always cared for him.

–

(Ingrid had ordered a chopper to find you three once you reached the ground. Ashley had immediately fallen asleep, and her head landed on your shoulder. Leon took note of it, the way you gently lifted her head so she'd be more comfortable, the way you parted her hair as a parent would. He didn't know why it made his heart feel warm.

"Did you have feelings for her?" You asked suddenly. Leon blinked. For a slight moment, he thought you meant Ashley, and he was about to be very confused. But no, you meant Ada.

"Yeah," Leon answered after a few seconds. "She made me feel like we had something back in Raccoon City. Then, well, you know how stories like this usually play out."

"She betrayed you?"

"A summary, but yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

You wrinkled your nose. "I didn't want to pry."

"You weren’t, I mean, she was being unfair, asking me things in front of you." Leon shrugged. "Anyone would be curious."

It was silent now. You had thoughts racing in your mind, and Leon could tell from the way your forehead wrinkled.

"I don't think about her much anymore." Leon said. "I have more important people to think about now." He was looking at you when he said that. You blinked a little before giving him an embarrassed smile.

"Alright, Mr. Kennedy, no flirting on the job."

"Mission's over, isn't it?")

–

[iloveparkjonggun]

Lookism men x wife!reader

characters included; Gun, Goo and Jake. reader is fem, nicknames(dear, sweetkins, princess etc) , characters are aged up, SFW, fluff fluff AND fluff.

A/N: after finishing lookism, i couldn't stay silent any longer, i HAD to write for them despite literally having no idea how to, i suppose that this is the first time i'm writing something properly, haha. Anyways, have fun reading <3

_____ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚_______

. . . . . ╰──╮Park JongGun╭──╯ . . . . .

Gun aged like a fine wine, you must admit. The day you laid your eyes on him for the first time ever still replayed in your mind, although you wouldn't really admit it. Witnessing with a new student while you were just chasing around your cat was the least thing you expected, and that attidute of his, you didn't expect that either. You were 16 at that time, young and full of life. Life was dready sometimes, that's a fact that no one could never get rid of including you, but who cares? We're here to have fun, and that's how you lived your life. When you gave Gun a slight smile along with a wave for the first time, he just replied with a single glance and turned away. He was odd, you thought. You were familiar with the most of the students in your school, and since he was a new face, you just wanted to greet him kindly. And how did that thug react? Exactly.

That's when that guy, who's name you learned later sucesfully inserted himself in the bad side of you, you could easily tell that he was a delinquent from the way you looked, but still you can't judge a book by its cover, but including that attitude with that presence? yeah, he definetely was a delinquent.

You just had no idea how the time melted so quick, the guy who used to be nothing but a delinquent in your eyes years ago was now behind you, arms roaming around your waist, stroking you as if you were a sculpture while you were just trying to cook dinner. ''Dear,'' you call out, a smile unconsciously appearing in your lips. ''Go take a shower first, you must be tired after work.''

He almost purrs while nibbling on the side of your neck, ''I am. So let me reduce my exhaustion.'' You could feel him inhaling your scent, lips contacting with your skin, leaving several soft kisses which caused you to giggle slightly. ''Alright, enough. Go shower, dinner's almost ready.'' You turn your head, leaning closer to him. knowing what you were up to, he moves his face to the side, his cheek waiting to feel your lips on it. Expecting to greet with his cheek, you greet with his lips instead, tasting the cigaratte at the same time. Damn it, you think. You fell for this move again. The chuckles coming from him while he makes his way to the bathroom only increases the heat of your cheeks. With a sigh, you continue to cook, a smile on your face.

. . . . . ╰──╮Goo Kim ╭──╯ . . . . .

''Princess!~'' cooed Goo, grinning with his full teeth, seeming utterly excited on whatever he was about to show you. ''Guess what just happened.''

''What?'' You answer, pair of eyes still glued to your phone, which instantly goes noticed by your husband. A frown already on his face, he leans his head to your phone, blocking you from the view of your phone. ''Look at me, not at the phone.'' He narrows his eyes and gives you that pout. You put your phone aside, now your full attention on your needy husband. Resting his head on your lap, he gives you a cheeky smile.

''Guess what day tomorrow is!''

''September 11th?'' You ask, one eyebrow slightly raising as you played dumb.

''Yes it is but, that wasn't the answer i was looking for.'' His lips quivers, before he tilts his head ''Don't tell me that you forgot, Y/N~'' He whines, which was when you decide that it was the time to drop the mask. A chuckle could be heard from you as you gaze down at him.

"Silly. what do you think that i was searching at my phone?''

''Wha- hey, you're just trying to change the topic now!''

''No im not, dumbass. I was searching for places to spend your anniversary.''

''Stop trying to change the to- Oh.'' Hearing those words causes the pout replace with a smile which easily reached his ears. ''Aww, sweetkins!'' In a blink of an eye, Goo was now straddling your lap, throwing his arms around your neck while he buried your head on his chest, rubbing your head on his chest as he hugged you. ''I knew that you didn't forget about it!''

'' 'Course i didn't forget, how could i- Goo get the hell away from me i cant breathe.''

''Oh.'' From his facial expression you clarify that he forgot how heavy and muscular he was for a moment. Now, you were the one on top of him, sitting on his laps as he hugged you, grinning up at you through your chest. ''Better now?''Your hand extends to his blond hand on its own as you smile back. ''Better.''

. . . . . ╰──╮ Jake Kim ╭──╯ . . . . .

You were gazing at the big deal street with your husband, head resting on his shoulder, his hand slowly stroking your waist, keeping you close as the cheerful talks of the people mixed with each other on the background while you both enjoyed each other's company in silence ''How odd.'' You break the silence first, recalling memories. ''Years passed, yet, this street still looks the same.'' Glancing up towards Jake, your smile widened at the sight of the smile displaying on your beloved's lips.

His irises' attention was now on you instead of the street as he smirked. ''How odd.'' He repeated your sentence, ''Years passed, yet, you're still beautiful as you were before.'' lips slightly parting away, you couldn't even reply to that sudden compliment, but your face sure did, which earned a loud laugh from your husband as he brought you closer, while you frowned, eyes on your shoes, attempting to hide your red cheeks despite already being aware that it wouldn't work.

''Damn you romancist.''

[dontexpectmuch]

part 2 - [Lost in Madrid]

-

author note: jude is annoying but whats new + im too lazy to proofread. hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think about it!!

-

series.masterlist // part three

-

“but, how do i know what participle form to use?”

you turn around to face adriana, one of your students in this course, “well, unfortunately you actually have to learn those.”

at your response, you could see hear shoulders sack a bit, muttering a spanish curse word under her breath.

“but,” you speak up again, hoping to lift up her spirits, “you’ll know them in no time, they’re easy to remember.”

nodding, she smiles at you before continuing to work on her report that she needs to wrote by the end of the month, something to monitor her progress in class.

sighing, you look around the class room, eyes focusing on the windows. it has been almost a month of you being here, teaching and helping around the center, and though it’s still a bit slow, you surely find different aspects to nite down for your thesis.

“hey, pretty teacher!” a voice appears by the door, making you tear away your eyes from the trees outside to look at the person.

“ah, lorenzo, buen día.” you smile at lorenzo, a new friend of yours.

you guys have been introduced to another by hernan, who claims that since you are in the same age range, you would get along even better than with others in the center. and he wasn’t wrong. even if you haven’t known lorenzo for a long time, you still find yourself enjoying his presence quite a lot, feeling comfortable enough to talk about various things with him during your lunch break. however, señor lagarde is still your favorite person, him giving you the feeling of an uncle that is also a father figure.

you walk up to him, looking at your students briefly before placing your attention on him.

“are you done with your group?”

lorenzo nods, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms in front his chest. they looked bigger this way, really good even, you admit. but you try to focus on his brown eyes instead, which are already looking at your face.

he turns his head to the side, smiling slightly, “i only had the younger ones today, they work fast. how about you, linda?”

you mirror his smile, “yeah, almost. they started their reports today, that is why it’s taking a bit longer.”

your gaze moves up to the clock on the wall, eyes widening as you see the time, “guys! you can already pack and leave for your practical lessons, the coaches wanted to start earlier today!”

choruses of “sí”s and “gracias”s are heard throughout the class, everyone is packing up and leaving the room, but not before wishing you a nice day.

“shall we go home together?” lorenzo pushes his body off the door frame, hand going through his dark hair to push it out of his forehead.

you move back to your desk, quickly packing your stuff, “can’t, i promised señor to watch his team play today.”

“want me to stay with you?”

smiling at his offer, you shake your head, kindly declining, “it’s fine, señor and i get along really well.”

“pero, what if that guy bothers you again?” his eyes sharpen and his lips are drawn into a straight line, though you can’t help but chuckle a bit at his behavior.

“no one bothers me! it was an accident!” you explain, putting your bag on your shoulder and walking out the room.

lorenzo is hot on your heels, not satisfied with your answer, “was that thing during lunch also an accident?”

thinking back, you pause a bit, unsure of what to say, “well, i don’t know? maybe he didn’t see me.”

scoffing, he shakes his head, “if you say so, but let’s get lunch outside next time, yes?”

“yeah, we’ll see.”

you bid your goodbyes and start to walk to the open field, thinking about the situation lorenzo was referring to,

“it’s so hot today.” you groan, moving along the line with your plate at hand.

“wait til it is august, it’s even worse then.” lorenzo replies, a smile dancing on his lips.

as you move up to the place for your drinks, you get yourself a coffee and some fruit, balancing them on your way to your seat.

but, right before you arrive at your table, someone bumps into your shoulder, causing the hot coffee to spill over your hand.

“ow, fuck. shit shit shit-“ you quickly put the coffee and plate down, shaking your hand for some relief.

“didn’t see you there.” a familiar voice behind you says, making your eye twitch.

“usually,” begin, turning around to face the british footballer, “one would apologize, instead of saying something like that.”

however, jude just nods, eyes focused on something else as he already begins to walk away, “yeah, ‘m sorry.” is all he says before he moves to the table to sit next to his friends.

scoffing, you looking down at your hand, which still feels hot, “stupid fucker.”

that trip down memory lane makes you scoff and you try shaking your head to get out of it.

but you also didn’t want to think too badly of someone you didn’t know, because who knows? maybe he has had a bad day that day? maybe he wasn’t feeling well?

instead of focusing on that, you try to focus on your view ahead, a happy señor lagarde that was explaining something to the players lined up in front of him.

in order not to bother him, you quietly move to your seat, a bit further away from the field than last time, just to be safe. you put your bag on the ground and rest your hands on your hips, eyes still looking at the people on the field. this time, there are more players than before, from different age groups and all of them play professional football here in madrid.

everything goes according to the schedule for a while, nothing too exciting. the sun is still high up in the sky, its rays heating up the entire place, resulting the players to sweat excessively during their training. you try to stay professional, you really do, but seeing some of the elder players running around the field, their shirts clinging onto their body and the sweat rolling down their neck, just makes you appreciate you internship a little more than necessary.

your daydreams come to an end when you hear someone call out your name, making you tear away your gave from the grass on your feet.

“can you bring us some water bottles?” you hear the british player - what was his name again? - yell at you, voice booming over the entire pitch.

you open your mouth, wanting to yell back, something along the lines that you aren’t some water bottle holder or whatever. but, you hold back, deciding on being mature about it and doing what he asked [demanded] you to do.

you get up, grab the bag with water bottles and start walking towards the group of people. opening the bag, you let each of them grab out a bottle, hearing small “thank you’s” as you pass them. as you turn around to walk back, you feel something around your foot, causing you to slightly trip, though it is nothing major and you catch yourself immediately. you turn around, looking at your feet first before your gaze moves up, staying locked at the face of the british player, whose eyes look everywhere but your direction.

you bite your tongue, trying your best not to say anything you might regret later. you continue your way back to your seat, leaving the now empty water bag next to it.

as practice slowly comes to an end, you start to pack up your book and pen, thinking about what you could cook for dinner when you arrive home.

“are you a new coach here?”

looking up, you see jaden - at least that is what you think his name was - looking down at you, a towel slung around his neck and hands resting on his hips. his dark eyes look directly into yours, creating a weird feeling in your stomach.

are you getting sick? due to the weather changes perhaps?

“no,” you shake your head amd get up from your seat, his eyes never leaving yours and watching every movement from your side, as if you’re some kind of prey.

weirdo.

“i do an internship here, something with languages.”

the expression on his face morphs into one of enlightenment, “yeah, makes more sense.”

offended, your eyebrows draw together, getting ready attack this guy in front of you, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“nothin’” he throws his hands up in defense, “but, like, c’mon, y’know what i mean.”

“no, no i do not know what you mean,” you take a step forward, “why are you so rude?”

“‘m not rude! just trying to start a conversation.”

“well, you suck at that.”

now, he is the one offended, mouth open in shock, “no i don’t?” his accent was thick, maybe because he was getting worked up, “you suck at getting a conversation going!”

“no, i don’t!”

“you do, though.”

rolling your eyes you move away, making your way to the exit, “go away, jaden.”

he follows you, “it’s jude.”

“that’s what i said.”

“wow, you’re rude.” jude says, coming to a halt when you arrive at the door.

“me?” your eyes widen in anger? or is it frustration? you aren’t sure, but this guy surely knows how to awaken these emotions in you, “you’re the rude one! you never properly apologized for what happened during lunch!”

“i did!”

sighing, you close your eyes for a second, your nerves running thin, “listen, i gotta go-“

“want me to come with you.” his smirk makes you want to crave out his eyeballs, though you hold yourself back.

he is just a boy, he is just a boy, he is just a boy-

“woah, are you that happy that you forgot how to talk?” he speaks up again, smirk widening.

“have a nice day.” you monotonously reply, opening the door and closing it abruptly behind yourself.

———————————————————

you always liked to say that fate was mostly by your side due to your positive thinking and avoidance of negative attitudes. but that luck must have come to an end.

after that talk with jude - not jaden, you really have to start remembering names better - you hoped to avoid being around him as much as you could, not because he did anything wrong, but just to safe yourself from another [annoying] conversation with that guy.

as already mentioned, however, fate seems to enjoy to throw you into situations where avoiding him was nearly impossible.

whenever you walked onto the pitch during your weekly practical classes, he was already there, yelling inaudible things at your direction and laughing at every mishap that happens to you. whether it was spilling the water because you got scared by a loud noise, or because your phone slipped out of your hands.

during lunch breaks, he seems to make it his very own mission to stand in your way, taking away the last piece of cake or taking extra long to choose a meal option, and what not.

at first you thought that he might just want to tease his teammates, they have always had a playful relationship amongst themselves, not a second passing without a laugh or giggle. but every time he did something that annoyed you, his eyes were already focused on yours, teasing smirk almost inviting you to punch it away.

“i just don’t understand what he wants from me.” you decide to rant to one of your colleagues during your break, expression sour.

“well,” she begins, chuckling a bit, “maybe he wants to get to know you?”

you feel like laughing, not believing the words coming out her mouth.

“yeah? and that is why his shots always ‘accidentally’ hit my legs?” you point out, rolling your eyes as you lean back in your chair, “i just want a relaxing internship, dealing with a child was not on my bingo card.”

amanda, your colleague, laughs at your comment, leaning against the table, “that is how footballers flirt! you should give him a chance-“

“give whom a chance?” lorenzo interrupts your conversation, taking a seat next to you, his arm behind the back of your chair.

“no one.” you answer, looking at amanda knowingly, “i was just telling her about some dude.”

“who?”

“irrelevant.” you dismiss the topic and look at the time, eyes widening when you register what time it is. “i have to go, señor lagarde needs my help today.”

as you leave the room, you hear amanda shout at you, something along the lines to enjoy your time.

“ah, linda! great timing!” you are greeted by señors deep voice as soon as you step onto the pitch, your bag now left by the benches.

“i’m here to help!” you reply, laughing as he puts an arm around your shoulder.

his eyes focus on the players on the field, all of them shouting something in spanish, sometimes more curse words than actual commands.

“so,” señor begins, bending down to grab a football, “all you have to do is throw the ball and they pss it back with their head, yes? and i will tell them to either go high or low.”

nodding, you take the ball from his hands and walk towards one of the cones that are spread on the field.

blowing his whistle, señor gathers the players around you two, explaining the next exercise in spanish.

“i will do the younger ones, you have older.” he tells you, also grabbing a ball.

“okay, sure.” you look up, though your smile immediately vanishes are you are met with a smiley jude at the beginning of the line.

“miss me?” his teasing made your ears bleed - not really, but you are pretty sure that it would happen soon enough - and you bite back a groan.

“alto.” your voice is low, eyes focusing on throwing the ball the way you need to.

and of course, of course, jude has no problems with passing it back, his technique almost flawless.

this routine goes on for another ten minutes, with jude always throwing sneaky comments in between the times when it is his turn.

at one point, he even stops standing in line, deciding to stand next to you and criticize the way you throw the ball, your pronunciation, the way you stand and you are pretty sure that if he could, he’d also criticize the way you breathe.

“no, no, that was too low, how is he supposed to get that?” - “higher, you gotta go higher!” - “why would you round your back like that?”

you are about to open your mouth, or maybe throw the ball against his face, but fate seems to favor him these days, since your thoughts are interrupted by señors final whistle.

“finally.” you throw your head back and begin to walk to your bag, the heat of the sun finally getting to you.

or maybe it was your nerves that are on the brick of giving up if you have to hear judes horrendous accent any longer.

“we should totally do that again!” jude jogs up next to you, matching you pace as you continue to walk.

you - sarcastically - smile at him, shaking your head, “no need, thanks.”

“no, but, you are shit at throwing the ball properly.”

“or,” you are getting provoked, you knew it, but it was so hard not to, “or maybe you just suck at passing the ball back? maybe you should be the one practicing your technique?”

lies, lies, lies, no matter how awfully you threw the ball at him, jude never made you even take one step to the side, perfectly delivering the ball back into your hands.

he chuckles, “you know that ain’t true.”

“you ain’t true.” your reply is dry, but you couldn’t help yourself.

today was exhausting and judes annoying comments didn’t help either.

“what are you? a kid?” he asks, not getting the hint of leaving you be.

you side eye him, “i’m older than you.”

“yeah i can tell.”

mouth open in surprise, you do the first thing that comes to your mind, which is hitting his back with your flat hand as hard as you could.

jude just giggles, though, finding amusement in your behavior.

“asshole.” is the last thing he hears you say before you walk out the door, not bothering to say any kind of goodbye to him.

“don’t miss me too much, yeah?” he shouts after you, the only reaction he gets is your middle finger, triggering a laugh out of him.

————————————————————

the sound of a spanish pop song softly playing through the speakers is heard through the entire store, accompanied by the sound of your sneakers rubbing against the ground.

saturdays in madrid are definitely your favorite, you think, the heat of the sun, the sound of children playing on the streets and the shouts and cheers from your neighbors around your block all contribute into that homey feeling you have gained during your first month here. you still struggle to speak the language, the different dialects around town not really helping, but so far you have only met people that are kind enough to offer you their help, regardless of their level of english skills.

the sun starts to set outside, aurora rays shining through the windows, creating a calm and relaxing atmosphere in the store.

you hum along the melody of the song, eyes going through the different snacks that are being displayed in the aisle.

bending down slightly, your finger finds it ways to your lips, tapping it lightly, “where is it?” your voice is low, only for you to hear - or that is what you think.

“you should try the olive oil chips, absolutely slaps.” his voice booms from behind you, startling you and ruining the current vibe.

you turn around, frustration slowly creeping onto your face, “what are you doing here?”

“wow,” jude puts his hands on his hips, teasing smile already present, “not even a hello? how are you?”

“are you stalking me?” is your second question, but you have to admit that it is really childish of you. he might be here to get some snacks, just like how you are. but his presence just triggers something inside you, something you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to.

jude scoffs, smile never leaving his [annoying] face, “you wish i was, huh?”

“i’ll sue you, or whatever!” you threaten, already getting worked up.

“for what? being too handsome?” a smirk dances around his lips, a kind of smirk that you want to slap out of his face [do you really?]

“is said handsomeness with us in the room right now?” your voice is monotonous, making judes eye twitch at your comment.

“maybe get some new glasses, grandma.”

you open your mouth for a comeback, but are interrupted by a new, soft voice.

“honey, did you get the snacks?”

judes eyes move to your face, “‘m tryin’” he winks at you - at least he tries, but it mostly looks like him blinking in a weird way.

you focus on the lady coming up behind judes right side, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that this woman is his mother. jude looks like her a lot, and without wanting to compliment him in any way, you have to admit that she is beautiful. kind smile, warm eyes and beautiful aura surrounding her, you would entrust her your deepest secrets without a second thought.

“mum, this is my friend.” jude tells her your name, repeating the same process of telling you her name, denise. you want to tell him off for calling you his friend, but leave it out for another time.

you smile, stretching out your hand to shake hers, “it is a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

she shakes your hand, smiling at you, “no need to be so formal, dear, denise is enough.” she tells you.

she turns to face jude, giving him her wallet and telling him something you can’t really make out. facing you once more, denise tells you goodbye and adds that she would like to have you over for some dinner sometime, you can’t really resist and tell her, yes, you’d love to come over and eat dinner. she walks off, disappearing behind another aisle without another word.

now, you focus on the guy in front of you again, his stupid smile making your eye twitch this time.

“why are you standing there?” well, maybe you are rude, and shit do you hate this feeling. jude never did anything too bad for you to treat him this way. you can’t even explain your dislike towards him, it is just something you can’t control, like when you start to dislike a person before even meeting them, not bothering to get to know them anyway. maybe because he made your first few weeks at the center harder than necessary, ticking you off for no reason.

with his mothers wallet in his hand, jude steps closer to you, picking up a snack that is on a shelf behind you, kind of caging you between his body and the shelf. you hold your breath, but his parfume still manages to find its way to your nose. his eyes stare at your face, and though this moment does not last longer than a few seconds, it surely feels like hours, everything going in slow motion.

“we should hang out sometime.” is the first thing he says after he takes a step back, now snack at hand and smile back on his face.

maybe he means well, genuinely interested in a friendship with you, however you still feel the need to get away from him as far as you could, a weird feeling spreading in your stomach after that little moment the two of you had. so you do what you have always done so far, pushing him away.

“not interested, thanks.”

you try to step forward to another aisle, but you way is being blocked by judes body, “no, but like, i am quite fun to be around, maybe you’d finally get a good humor yourself if i influence you enough.”

you roll your eyes, distaste not in the dark, “you? showing me how to have a good humor?”

he nods, a small agreement leaving his lips.

“and, your humor is what? bumping shoulders of others, hitting their legs with footballs,” you pause, recreating a think pause, “hm, what else?”

chuckling, jude mirrors your pose, “well, i think also being a smooth talker?”

that statement tickles a laugh out of you, the sound spilling from your lips clear. your eyes are closed, you won’t see it, but hearing you laugh causes judes smile widen, his cheeks even start to hurt. your smile brightens up your face, your cheeks look full and your pearly whites are present, all an addition to your radiant prettiness.

the warmth he feels is short lived, though, you calm down and simply tell him to get going, starting to walk away yourself.

you hear his footsteps follow you, but decide to not say anything anymore. there is no point of arguing with him any longer, he will be the same annoying jude that you have got to know over the past month. you won’t let him ruin this beautiful evening, everything has been going way too good for that - well, until you met him in the store.

“so,” jude is now walking beside you, grabbing some snacks and drinks on his way, “my place or yours?”

“i don’t want to fuck you, jude.”

“no, no!” he quickly denies, eyes wide, “i mean, we should definitely hang out more, y’know, strengthen our friendship.”

“no, thanks.”

“c’mooon.”

-

you open your apartment door, frustration painted on your face.

“just,” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. “just take off your shoes and put them next to mine.”

you turn to face the footballer standing behind you, excitement vivid in his face. you don’t know how, or when he did it, whether he just followed you here, but before you could notice it you have had led him to your home. he is just so annoying, winding you up at any given chance, that is why you didn’t notice that he followed you home - or this is what you’d like to tell yourself.

you walk into your kitchen, watching jude who follows you put your groceries onto the counter.

“you still didn’t have to carry them, y’know.” is all you say, a silent ‘thank you’ in your unique way.

jude simply smiles, “my mum would’ve make me sleep outside if i’d let you carry ‘em.”

you push yourself off the counter, moving to sit on your couch as you look up at him, “well, now that you’ve seen my apartment, you can go now, right?”

“no way!” jude decides to take a seat on the other couch, “we still have to eat the snacks i bought and play games!”

you lean your head back against the couch, sighing, “jude, c’mon. ‘m tired.”

“don’t care.”

he gets up again, and you hear some rustling from the kitchen, assuming that he is probably getting the snacks from the bags. you don’t bother to open your eyes when you hear him put bowls onto the coffee table, he will do whatever he wants anyway.

you decide to lift your head up to look at jude, only to find his face inches away from yours.

“what the fuck!” your instincts kick in and you do what first comes to your mind, you, well you slap him, hard.

his face flys to the left, eyes wide open in shock as he stands up straight, his left hand now covering his cheek, “bro, what the fuck is wrong with you!”

“with me!” you put your feet onto the couch, pressing your upper body against its back, “what the hell is wrong with you! why would you even be so close to me!”

“you had something on your face!” is his excuse, scoffing as he sits back on the couch, grabbing a drink from the table.

you shake your head in disbelief, not even bothering to answer him. you grab a bowl and put one of the chips into your mouth, testing the ones jude bragged about when you were still at the store.

“does your mother know that you are currently sitting on the couch in the home of a stranger?” you ask, looking at him.

“wait til she finds out you slapped her precious son, no more dinner for you.” he responds, taking a chip from your bowl even though there is a second one on the table.

“boo-hoo, cry me a river.”

“well, did you know that we live pretty close to each other?” jude skillfully changes the subject, taking another sip from his drink before setting it down, “we should definitely go home together after the practice sessions.”

your eyes wander around your living room, going over the different pieces of furniture around, “another friend of mine already walks with me.”

“ditch them.”

“no? why would i do that?”

“to hang out with me!”

“nah.”

jude crosses his arms in front of his chest, lips pouting slightly, “it’s always the elder ones that are so rude.”

“and you expect me to be friends with your childish self?” with how you much have been rolling your eyes ever since you met jude, you’re scared that they might get stuck one day.

“at least i’d keep the spirit of our friendship alive!”

“i pass.”

and though you don’t notice it, a small smile creeps its way onto your lips, gradually growing the more time you spend with jude sitting in your living room, eating snacks and listening to the different stories he has to tell. you didn’t think that you would spend your saturday evening sitting in your home, listening to some guy with a horrible accent talk about whatever came to bis mind, but it feels relaxing, not having to use your brain for something.

you also don’t notice your eyes feeling heavy, slowly but surely falling shut as you continue to listen to jude, his voice deep but softly telling you about his time in germany and how the people there would treat him.

as soon as he sees your eyes shut and head leaning against the back of the couch, he slowly gets up, careful to not make a sound, and grabs a blanket from the chair in the kitchen, draping it over your sleeping figure. he takes the bowls and drinks, leaving them by the kitchen counter before he moves to the door, putting on his shoes. he looks back one last time, just to check if everything is done, his eyes staying longer on your face than necessary. after a final look, he turns the doorknob and leaves your home, carefully shutting the door behind him.

[plaest2k]

hey, im a young nz artist too and i like making comics/want to do something bigger when im older, and i think your stuff is genuinely so fucking cool. i love it so much. i was wondering how you pursued art after highschool, like did you go to art school? if so, where and what was that like, and if not, how’d you find the time to continue doing it? its always felt like my opportunities for a career in art specifically seem smaller living in nz, but idk your stuff inspires me to think otherwise. thank you :)

kia ora!!

thanks so much for asking, it's truly so flattering that a young nz artist would ask me for advice! <3 sadly i might not necessarily be the best person to ask...

First of all, it's been a loooooong time since i've been a young artist hahaha I'm 32. After high school, I studied architecture at university because, as you're probably aware, we don't really have art schools like our peers do overseas. But after studying for a few years, I had a major depressive episode and dropped out. After that, I ran away to Korea to teach english for a year before coming back to work in cafes for about 6 years. Back then I was pursuing a career in editorial illustration cause that's what all my favourite artists were doing but I didn't realise that it was a dying industry at the time and there weren't exactly lot of full-time professional artists here who could have warned me...

So after about 10 years of trying to piece together some kind of profession in illustration, I ended up looking for a tattoo apprenticeship which was looking pretty promising but my bosses turned out to be not-so-great people. I tried to keep tattooing on my own but that was around the time COVID hit which wasn't (and still isn't) great for a job that requires you meet face-to-face with a lot of people. So, since the pandemic began, I've just been subsisting off of jobseeker, chipping away at comics and the occasional illustration gig.

The whole experience had me perpetually burnt out for the past ~15 years and made me realise that art as a career really just shouldn't be a thing. Under capitalism, it requires either an embarrassing level of compromise, privilege or luck to pursue. All the household-name artists you know in NZ either come from privilege or got unbelievably lucky. I don't say this as a value judgment or anything, most of them are truly wonderful people, it's just what I've learned about them as colleagues who've worked together a few times over the years.

I don't fault anyone for wanting to pursue that, but if you want to make uncompromising art that makes you feel fulfilled, you can't stake your livelihood on it. Art is supposed to be a by-product of life well lived, not content to be sold.

It's why I'm making plans to go back to uni next year to switch careers into a cushy office job because, as you've observed, even if you still want to pursue this as a full-time career, opportunities for artists in Aotearoa is extremely limited.

Having said all that, there's still a lot of nuance to this whole thing that would take me too long to cover in a tumblr post, so if you'd like me to elaborate or anything or have more questions, you're more than welcome to contact me through my email: plaest2k@gmail.com!

And this offer extends to literally anyone who might be looking for advice or just wants to talk about art <3

Final thing: the thought of studying something else at college/ university and keeping your art as a hobby might sound bleak when you're young, but life is so much longer than you think. You might feel like you have limitless creativity and ideas at the moment but when it becomes your entire life, you burn through it all faster than you'd think. It's because you need fuel to inform what you make and you can't get that from just making art. Like I always say, art is a by-product of a life well lived; You need life-experiences; You need to love, hate, care, be hated and loved to make art and you can't do that if you're too busy to do any of that. Those 3 years you spend on a bachelors is nothing in comparison to a lifetime of staring at a blank page, agonizing over what to make next.

[voidheartkisses]

Okay hello hi hello,

First off you're amazing and a gift to the world, I wish I had even half your talent. Your last piece blew my mind and I just HAD to ask,

How long have you been drawing/painting for? I imagine forever but I'm always curious how long it takes before artists reach these sorts of levels where it evolves into full-scale projects as opposed to smaller hobbyist crafts. There are so many beautiful art pieces on this platform as a whole and I'm constantly baffled by it all

Sorry if my excitement is off-putting that piece is heavenly and my mind is blown. Hope you're doing well!

Hi and thank you! That's a good question

So I've been drawing since I was born, but I've been drawing digitally for 8 years. I think in the very beginning most artists should just focus on having fun, you'll basically improve by default

after a while you will want to improve. It will be slow, but this is the stage where you'll recognize what you need work on

I'd say the turning point is when you've finally gotten far enough into your art journey without any sort of formal training (ie, a lot of artists dont learn the basics/fundamentals first, which is fine since most of us start as hobbyists) But I think learning them really did help me a lot. You start to think more about how light and shadow lays, depth, 3D objects, and more.

I highly recommend watching this video about levels of art, it's been really helpful and motivating to me throughout the years

This part is going to be long so you don't have to read it but I just wanna give my personal journey and how I got to now if anyone thinks it'll be helpful:

(2017) With digital art, I started off on ms paint and occasionally ibis paint x. Mostly using anime deviantart bases (EMBARRASSING), but after a while I developed my own style based on the people I was inspired by at the time, I was just happy to draw and didn't care much about improving at this time

(2019) The people you look up to artistically will naturally change over time (and thats okay), after a while I decided to switch to firealpaca, where I guess I got more invested on how light and shadows work, as well as making my characters look a bit more natural and develop my own style, your preference in aesthetic may also change over time which is noticeable here

(2021) Eventually, I began to lean more into semirealism (which isn't everyones preference and thats okay! realism shouldn't be the ultimate end goal of art) but I really enjoyed making stylized characters look 3D and in natural looking environments, since I felt it spoke to my own experiences, a lot of artists draw from real life experiences. I focused more on anatomy at this time as well as textures and environments, composition also became a big deal for me at this time, as well as wanting to use different colors

(2024) The change from LINEART to DIGITAL PAINTING in 2022 was the hardest for me once I switched to clip studio paint, it was basically like starting all over and I was so lost. I had a lot to figure out on my own but I knew it was a transition I had to make to draw the kind of art I wanted. But I began to study and take more things into consideration, I didn't like my art so I simply kept going "I can do better", learning from my previous mistakes and slowly making something I would be more satisfied with. At this point art felt more like "projects" then anything, because I wanted to make pieces that were of quality and had time and care put into each of them, sure it meant there was no longer much quantity. but hey that's what my smaller Cult of the Lamb lineart drawings are for!! 💙

I'm still growing and I definitely have a long way to go, but I am very proud of my progress this year, and I'll continue to grow until I'm satisfied (haha im stubborn) I also want to develop my secondary lineart style that I do when I'm not painting, since I feel that is important too

in short; time, practice, dedication, and passion are the most important, draw what you love above all else because it will be your drive to keep going, staying motivated was the most important for me

Sorry for the long post 😭

[kaihuntrr]

one-year anniversary!

HI. oh my goodness can you believe its been a WHOLE YEAR (and a day, im posting this a day later OOPS-) since i started working on this au? i dont think i started working on the chapters until... the -ber months? but the general brainstorming started now and oh my GOD the amount of changes that has happened while working on this au is insane! im absolutely floored with how much people enjoy this au, and while im too busy to be posting art (im doing some personal work!) i have all the time in the world to talk about how much this means to me.

i've written things in the past, but i havent for the LIFE of me worked on such a long project such as this (we're only halfway through act one of FIVE!) and learning and growing with such wonderful betas and partner (ehehe @mewhoismyself hello there) is just so wonderful <3

SO! in order to make this anniversary special, i've decided to post a little cut/practice scene from act two! this couldnt make the cut with what the plot has in mind, but i figured itd be best to have some nice moments with scott and martyn, eh?

OH! and before i go, the next chapter will be posted a day earlier! <3 im going abroad the day after the original chapter posting date, so i need to rest. i think this back half of the fic is gonna be really something <3

anyway, i wont keep you here for longer. i hope you have a fun time reading this, just as much as my partner and i had fun writing this so many months ago <33

Martyn tried to listen as Scott rambled on about what he’d been up to, how nice it had been to see his friends again. He even tried to let the small twist of jealousy at Scott being so happy over seeing someone else wrench his attention back into the moment, but it didn’t work. The face of Pearl kept flashing in the forefront of his mind, her eyes and jagged scar glowing unnaturally under the moonlight. 

“Oh, and…,” Scott continued to ramble on, but Martyn still couldn’t focus. It seemed that Scott had noticed as his voice trailed off and he looked at the blonde with a tilted head. “Martyn…?”

Martyn gave a grumbled response. His mind blocked out the world around him as he pictured brief flashes of the island, the hollow and desolate stares of the people, the wicked laugh coming from Pearl….

Scott sighed. “Martyn….”

Martyn could still feel a slight buzz in his head from where he was hit. How much blood did he lose back there? He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was glad to be alive. Glad that he was here, still breathing, like everyone else. Glad that he was–

“Martyn!”

Martyn jerked as Scott’s face was suddenly inches from his own. Scott’s lips were twisted into a pout and his eyebrows were drawn into a scowl. “Huh- sorry, what?”

Scott sighed, letting his head fall forward, “So you weren’t listening to me….”

“No!” Martyn said quickly, throwing his hands up. Panic leapt in his chest, making his heart beat faster. He didn’t want Scott to think he was ignoring him…! “No, I- I’m… I’m sorry…,” he hung his head. “I’m trying to listen- I’m not meaning to ignore you, I just….” Martyn looked down at the sand beneath him. Guilt welled up in his throat. He’d been so eager to see Scott while he was away, and before he’d gotten back, and now that he was actually here… Martyn was ignoring him. He was making Scott feel ignored.

Martyn shook his head, forcing a huge smile onto his face. “So, you said you saw your friends, right? Did you have fun-? Oh, what am I saying, you just said you had fun- haha…,” Martyn scrubbed the back of his head, then straightened up, rolling to his feet. “Hey, do you wanna go see if we can find your bird friend? I bet it’s missed you too!” He pointed towards a path leading up to the forest, “Bet he lives in there somewhere…!”

“Um- Martyn…,” Scott trailed off looking after him.

Martyn took a few steps backwards, away from Scott, and spread his arms, hoping he’d follow. “Or we can go down to the beach! It’s a nice day, it’ll feel great to splash in the water a little.”

“Martyn.”

“Or- oh, we can go see the decorations they’re setting up for the festival down in the center of town. You said you were excited right, so we can-!”

“Martyn!” Scott snapped. 

Martyn stopped.

Scott took the few steps to close the distance between them, laying his hand on Martyn’s arm, then sliding it down to take his hand. He tilted his head, giving Martyn big sad eyes. “Martyn, talk to me…. What’s wrong?”

It was hard for Martyn to not crack under Scott’s gaze. “It’s just…,” he trailed off, trying to put his thoughts into words. He was just engrossed in them a second ago, but now, trying to tell Scott, he couldn’t think of what to say. “I… uh….”

“You’re alright, Martyn,” Scott rubbed his thumb over Martyn’s hand in a small, circular motion. “Take your time.”

A small pause fell over him. Martyn could hear the slow ebbs of the waves before he managed to speak. “I can’t get her out of my mind,” his voice spat with venom. Pearl’s sadistic glee, her manic grin, her ever-looming presence burned in his head. Martyn’s grip unknowingly tightened around Scott until he looked the other in the eye. His grip on Scott lessened as he looked away. “What good can I be to protect you, when I can’t defend myself from one person?”

“Who said I needed protecting?” Scott raised an eyebrow, his tone still soft but with a hint of skepticism as he leaned to the side to catch Martyn’s gaze again. He let out a weak chuckle and moved his other hand to rest on Martyn’s cheek. “Besides, you can’t protect me from everything.”

Martyn leaned into the touch, not caring how warm his cheeks felt as Scott’s delicate hand pressed into his skin, lightly grazing over the scar Pearl caused. He closed his eyes as he let out a sigh and drooped his shoulders. “But I want to…,” he muttered. He looked at Scott, his face scrunched with worry. “I don’t want you getting hurt at all, Scott.”

“There’s going to be times where I get hurt, Martyn,” Scott narrowed his eyes and withdrew his hand from Martyn’s cheek. Martyn was wide-eyed, only for Scott to hold the hunter’s other hand. “When that happens, all I’d ask is for you to help me get back on my feet.”

Martyn could feel his nerves freeze up at Scott’s warm hold. His gentle stare and concern on his face nearly caused Martyn’s heart to explode. A million things swirled in his mind as the breeze wafted over. “I can’t help it,” he lowered his head, biting his lip. “You should be protected, with all the chaos going around–”

“What chaos?” Scott cracked a smile and shook his head. He shrugged, letting go of one of Martyn’s hands as he gestured around. “All there is to see is you, me, and the beach. Nothing to worry about, right?”

Nothing to worry about for now, but so many things could happen in the blink of an eye. Martyn could practically hear the sound of the sea princes’ ringing in his ears, the one from his dreams laughing as its mouth opened wide to swallow Scott as he screamed-.... 

No. Martyn needed to be prepared for anything, so nothing bad could ever happen to the people he cared for. Nothing. Never again. 

“I still want to fight for you,” his voice was barely a whisper in the wind, cracking a bit from the emotions that crawled up the back of his throat. But seeing Scott’s attentive look, with the slight tilt of his head, Martyn knew he could hear him. “Can I at least do that?” he pleaded. He needed to-. He needed to. 

“You may,” Scott nodded, giving him a small smile. Then his eyes narrowed as a smirk crept onto his lips. “So- I’d like to see how you fight.”

Martyn opened his mouth to respond- just in time for a woosh of breath to leave him as his back hit the ground. Martyn gasped, blinking for several seconds as he tried to figure out he’d gotten laid flat out on his back… with a certain ginger pinning his shoulders to the sand.

“Yikes…,” Scott teased, his eyebrows rising, complimenting the wide grin on his face.

Martyn sputtered, his face immediately flushing beat red. “I wasn’t ready! Sneak- sneak attack…!”

Scott laid one arm across his chest, propping his other elbow on top of it and laying his cheek in his hand. “Most things will take an opportunity for a sneak attack, when presented with one.” He kicked his feet in the air, as if he was lounging on a couch reading a book. 

Martyn flushed all the way to his ears. “Redo!”

Scott leaned his head down, smiling at Martyn in a way that was almost sickeningly sweet. “Are you waiting for a written invitation?” 

Martyn grabbed Scott by the shoulders and surged upwards, knocking the ginger off of him. Scott laughed as he slipped his grip, ducking under one of Martyn’s arms to wrap his arms around Martyn’s torso. 

Before Martyn’s brain could fully process that, Scott had rolled Martyn over top of him and planted him flat on his back again. 

Working on instinct more than pre-thought, Martyn wrapped his arms around Scott’s shoulders and kicked off the sand. He knocked his thigh against Scott’s hip, bumping him off balance just enough to send them rolling over again.

But Scott didn’t end up on his back underneath Martyn. 

Somehow, mid flip, he’d slithered around Martyn’s torso, ducking his arm again and getting outside of his hold. Martyn ended up with his face in the sand and a knee pressed between his shoulders, shoving him down further.

Martyn was about to push himself up with his arms, using his strength advantage to throw Scott off of him, but Martyn froze when he felt something sharp curl around his throat. 

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even swallow. He could barely even breathe. 

Suddenly the sharp points of crescent bladed scythes were touched against his neck so delicately. Suddenly the sharp claws of a hungry beast wrapped around his throat, pricking the skin above his jugular. One wrong move and she’d slid his throat. One wrong breath and the beast would tear him to ribbons.

A figure above him bent down to whisper in his ear. 

“I win!” Scott chirped brightly. He laughed as he withdrew his fingernails from where he’d curled them around Martyn’s throat. “You really do need more practice. Though I’d be happy to oblige…,” his voice turned sing-songy as he plopped back on the sand, his arms holding him up.

Martyn slowly pushed himself upwards, staring down at the sand where his face had been in utter bafflement. Why had that felt-? Why was he-? Why was his heart beating so fast? Why… did he feel like he’d just been hunted…?

“That- that uh…,” Martyn stammered, not really sure what he wanted to say. “You’re a lot better fighter than I thought you’d be.” He turned his head to look at Scott, pushing himself up so he was sitting on his knees.

“I know,” Scott smiled widely, tipping his head back and forth, “Do I impress you, Martyn?” He smiled and hummed teasingly, his eyes narrowed in a joyful satisfaction. 

“Always,” he breathed, a lot more genuine and heartfelt than he’d meant to. Scott’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Martyn felt his face flush and he looked down at the sand. Well, he was in this far. “I think you’re amazing.” 

“Thank you…,” Scott said with a shy little smile. A light hint of red dusted his cheeks. He looked… really nice like that.

Martyn shook his head, roughly clearing his throat. “Well um, as- as fun as this was… I was actually referring to- to my gun combat more than my hand-to-hand.”

“Uh huh,” Scott answered with a small smirk, not sounding like he believed him. “Well, maybe I could help you with that as well.” 

“You know how to use a gun?” Martyn asked, more than a little shocked. How… how much did he really know about Scott?

Scott opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked to the side, then looked back at Martyn. “Noooo…?” he admitted, grinning sheepishly. He sighed, rolling his eyes a bit, “To be honest I thought you were still flirting, not that that was a serious question. And now, well… I’m just embarrassed.”

“Oh.” Martyn tried to hide his sigh of relief. It was one thing to just not know that Scott was a capable fighter -he was a tavern keeper who dealt with rowdy drunks all the time, Martyn honestly should have expected it- but it was another thing to not know that Scott was a trained gunman. For some reason they felt different. Martyn felt a grin split his face. “Would-... would you like me to teach you…?”

“Teach me what?” Scott’s eyebrows pinched together for a brief moment, then shot up towards his hairline, “How to use a gun?”

“Yeah,” Martyn grinned, “It’ll be like the time I was taught!”

“When were you taught?” Scott tilted his head.

“I think I was… seven? My parents knew I wanted to be a hunter, so they taught me,” Martyn hummed, looking out at the beach. He could remember the eagerness in his voice when he asked his parents to teach him. He only knew of the dangers through them and the people he lived around, but he knew his heart was calling out to the sea more than anything else.  “I needed practice, like everyone else, but I’m a natural. A crack shot, they’d told me!” He laughed. Shooting a target from far away was much easier than fighting with swords or his bare hands. 

Scott blinked, processing Martyn’s words. He slowly turned his head to Martyn, eyes widening in shock as all sense of his playfulness dropped. “You were a child when you learned how to use those?”

“Yeah…? I wanted to be a hunter, Scott, so I learned early.” Martyn looked at Scott and shrugged, feeling the ginger’s gaze on his skin felt… different. Martyn learned how to use guns to be a hunter, not to– oh. Was Scott thinking Martyn would…? Martyn shook his head and raised his hands up. “But I can’t shoot a person. A sea monster is easy because they’re big and stupid, but a person…?”

Scott had a judgemental look on his face as it scrunched up. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, resting his head on it as he sighed. “Ending a person’s life is hard, and I’m happy you haven’t shot anyone, but…,” he trailed off. Martyn leaned closer to Scott as he raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you think it’s a little concerning?”

“What’s concerning?”

“You learned how to shoot things, how to kill things, as a kid,” Scott looked away, gripping his arms tighter as he watched the waves flow in and out. “Every life has a purpose; from you, to me, and even the beasts in the ocean.”

Martyn narrowed his eyes. Exactly what purpose could those monsters serve? Being ocean terrors? An effective way to kill humans and destroy ships? To bring fear in the hearts of children? To kill Ren- Jimmy? Why were there monsters in the ocean? Why should there be? 

“They’re monsters, Scott.” Martyn hissed, anger rising in his voice.

“They’re animals,” Scott hissed back, his face pinching into an expression that was almost pained. “They’re just animals….” 

“They’re heartless, cruel, and always starving.” Martyn huffed, pulling out his gun to examine it under the sunlight. Horrible beasts. Disgusting monsters. Murderers. “They’re such horrible, unnatural beasts that every mechanic in the world works to develop better guns and weapons to kill them all.” 

He didn’t fully notice the way Scott shied away from the gun in his hand. “You’re lucky you don’t need to leave the kingdom to see those ugly things,” Martyn spat.

“Ugly…,” Scott grumbled, turning his head away, like he was offended by the notion. “Well, I’m sure most of them would think the same about you.”

Martyn blinked, giving Scott a double take. Ugly…? 

Scott let out a sigh as he stretched and uncurled his legs and arms to stretch out in front of him. He picked up a small handful of sand and watched it fall through his fingers. “Every life is precious, every life is running on limited time. I’m not an idiot. I know things die. But there’s no reason to cut it shorter than it needs to be. ” He smiled wistfully, tossing the rest of the sand forward. “The sea is… scary, but maybe if you had an open mind, you’d see there’s more to it than monsters.”

Martyn followed Scott’s gaze and stared. Was there anything more to them? Surely not. The fondness in Scott’s voice was hard to believe- but the man has never even seen any beast to Martyn’s knowledge. The fond tone that Scott spoke about those- those monsters with… it honestly made Martyn angry. Those monsters took away the people he cared about. The people he loved. People he cherished. Jimmy, Ren… and so many other innocent people lost their lives to the sea, Lizzie’s parents…. The ocean took all of them, and there was nothing to blame but the monsters that infested it.

“They’re monsters, nothing more than that,” he spat, emotions in his chest wrenching into a tight knot that made it hard to breathe. He swung his arm out to the side, bringing his gun up in front of his chest as he rose to his knees, almost looming over Scott. “I know what they are, Scott, and I know I’m doing all that I can to protect you and the rest of the kingdom from the beasts that would just as quickly swallow you whole as they would crush you into pieces!”

“There’s no need for you to be so hostile about it,” Scott snapped at Martyn, his eyes narrowing into a cold glare that felt like icy daggers stabbing into Martyn’s face. Scott stood up and brushed all the sand from his clothes with a sigh. “I understand.” He walked closer to the water, just enough for the waves to lap against his shoes and tightened his fist, as if preventing to lash out.

Martyn blinked. “Was I-?” he muttered to himself. 

He looked out at Scott standing in the surf. He looked… sad. The guilty feeling in his chest built up once more. 

All of a sudden, Martyn remembered just how happy Scott looked with his birds fluttering around him, with the canary nuzzling his palm. Oh-. Scott was an animal lover…. No wonder he-.

Martyn was messing everything up. First he’d ignored him, and he was pushing Scott away by getting angry. Martyn quickly stood up and ran across the beach towards Scott, “Oh, Scott, I’m sorry–”

Scott turned to look at him, a flat expression on his face.

Martyn felt his heart twist, “I- I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to make you feel….”

“Upset?” Scott supplied.

“Yeah…,” Martyn bowed his head. His hand twitched out, reaching for Scott’s but giving up and retreating before he could take it. Martyn turned his head away and bit his lip. “I-... I made you-....”

Scott stepped closer and held out his hand. “No need for that, silly hunter,” he smiled sweetly. Martyn took it almost immediately, surprising them both. Scott let out a chuckle and bumped his shoulder next to Martyn’s. “I’m not mad,” Scott said softly. Martyn believed him. He looked… sad instead. 

“I don’t want you to–”

“You’re just fine.” Scott assured him with a smirk. “It takes a lot more than a simple disagreement to make me actually upset. We’re okay, right?” 

Martyn bashfully nodded, resulting in a wide smile from Scott. Was he… really okay? Or was he just hiding how he felt? For Martyn’s sake? Martyn hoped it was the former. 

Scott put a hand on his chest, giving Martyn’s hand a small squeeze. “Just… try to keep an open mind, alright? The world can be… stranger than you might think.” He smiled a little bashfully, “I might have- a surprise or two… to share, eventually.”

“Like how you can kick my butt in hand to hand?”

Scott’s face split into a wide grin, his eyes lighting up with laughter. “Just like that.”

Martyn felt himself smiling, a laugh escaping him as he squeezed Scott’s hand. Yeah, they were okay.

[the-local-eldritch-microwave]

Error and Ink headcanon

real tiny TW of triggering people on purpose so be warned(its only mentioned once)

so lets say hypothetically, if all the creators were to lose interest then the multiverse would die a slow and sad death until only the void is left. Now Error and Ink obviously are the only ones with direct contact to the creators so lets just say that any sort of truce or peace between sides tends to bore a lot of creators(enough to cause worry). They want action! drama! death! all of the above. So! every time the multiverse comes even a little bit close to a truce, lets say dream and nightmare get close to apologizing to each other and/or the council starts to learn their ways that would be the eventual end of the multiverse(In their eyes) so Ink and Error have this mutual agreement to continuously fuck shit up even if it cost the both of them their relationships and lives.

Error does this in an obvious way, by doing what he does best(destroy, and by proxy bringing creators back so they can create more to replace them and stay out of spite) but i think he would make truces with people like fresh and the council and such only to break them off on short notice or barley work with them at all and cause general mistrust. In think he would be betray Nightmare and foil his plans a lot because even if the bad side wins in the end that's still gonna turn constant and for many creators(unfortunately) that's just as boring as a world that's happy all the time. Error would definitely fool the council into thinking he's a good guy and even being content with it himself until the creators start to pester him and bring his intrusive thoughts back out.

In the other hand Ink would stay content for a while playing the good guy and encouraging creators to make more universes to keep it alive however in times of desperation he would turn to other measures such as leaning into his chaotic good to neutral side and even betraying dream for Nightmare starting as small favors and possibly even tuning into something bigger(im squeezing in some hypothetical Inkmare cause i can, but kinda one sided wont say for who tho). He'd even break his own rules of not interfering with a story just to get an "interesting" sans out of it to bring old creators back to a creation that they had once long forgotten(basically giving out more trauma like pokemon cards).

The both of them would see drama between two san's or people and both actively think of ways to make it worse or stretch it out for longer then it should have initially been as well as being everyone's #1 instigator and i think Ink especially(but also Error too) would "accidently" trigger people mid fight to escalate things and just ruin any chance of rekindling old friendships unless those friendships and relationships are "interesting"(Ink) or "worth it"(Error) in the long run.

The creators voices(Error) and creative drive of the creators(Ink) would most definitely sway them and if they're in the middle of messing something up but the creators suddenly seem to have a change of heart or find interest without any intervention they would stop what they are doing and leave them alone finding something else to do.

And when the day is done they would both meet up in outertale(an au the creators seem to love and therefore almost never gets touched besides from a visit or two) sit down side by side and both silently wonder what life would be like if the creators didn't have to be there and they could both let the Multiverse run its natural course.

(i imagine them to have some sort of QPR here but this is up to how you interpret it!)

[phanzon]

Puppet Sisters AU (2/?)

Like before: OG AU by @rorydrawsandwrites, its time I get off my ass and continue the story. PART 1: https://www.tumblr.com/phanzon/752669118845665280/i-cant-believe-im-going-to-write-this-au-out?source=share

Gangle opened her eyes, she had passed out for only a moment yet to her it felt like an eternity in a coma. Her limbs felt stiff and heavy, her legs were like jelly and her headache wouldn't end. "Ughhhh... how long was I out?" As she lifted her arm as high as she could to rub her head, a tiny squeak could be heard as the plastic glove rubbed Gangles porcelain face. Furthermore, the more Gangle moved ever so slightly, the more she could feel a moderate weight of fake denim rub across her furry torso, and the tightness of her ribbons strung around her neck... Something felt very wrong indeed. "I feel so weird... wait, what?!" For some reason or another, Jax's body began to repeat every word that came to Gangle's mind. Normally, Gangle would have to manually command Jax to say something, now it was automatic and came out a little too naturally. "Jax stop it... I SAID SHUT UP!" Gangle (and by extention Jax's body) growled in frustration at all these new confusing feelings. Gangle tried to sit up, however the mere movement only exacerbated all of Gangle's woes. It was not so much the weight of the body being too much for Gangle's ribbons to bear, but rather the sensation of feeling as if the body was hers in addition to controlling her own ribbon body. It was all too much for the girl, she released Jax's body, letting it's head to slouch back to where it started as Gangle slithered away to puke. "Uhhhhg... what just happened?" Gangle looked back at Jax's body, its eyes empty of life, and subtle movements nonexistent, there was not even a single breath. Gangle looked at the uncanny sight with an uncomfortable wince, by now the bunny would have returned to his senses, yet Gangle remembered how it felt like nobody was home. She slowly shifted over to examine the body and see what was going on. Wrapping her ribbon briefly around its neck, all of the sensations from before came rushing back. A breath was forced out of both bodies as Gangle struggled to process what was going on.

After a few more seconds, Gangle managed to pry her hand away from the neck, her eye's wide with shock and amazement. "I... I have control over his whole body... all of his senses... he literally gave me EVERYTHING!" Gangle felt awe struck and afraid at the sheer power and control she now had over Jax's body: there was still so much Gangle did not understand about the consequences of taking a second body with equal control to their own. A part of her regretted the path she had just took... but as her curiosity grew, she looked into Jax's blank eyes and realized there was no turning back. Closing their eyes and resting on Jax's face, Gangle readied to connect with the body a third time. "Alright... here goes nothing!" As they connected to Jax's mind, they slowly learned how to adapt from using two bodies at once. First, they moved Ja's right arm, getting a feel of its weight and senses, all the while moving her left ribbon independently from Jax's body. "I see... interesting. Now lets try... Sp-Spea... Speaking. There we go." Having learned to speak on her own again, Gangle took a while longer to learn how to speak as Jax independently. "Ma-ma-ma... Hello, Hello- ah! there we go! *Moves Jax's tongue around the mouth* Mmm? *moves it around more* Eww... Jax's mouth tastes awful... ugh!" After about an hour of figuring the basics of working with two bodies, it was time to try and stand up. Lifting one arm onto the bed, Gangle lifted themselves and Jax up onto their feet before they lost their balance and fell on the bed. "Sigh... lets try that again." Rolling onto their back, they used the momentum off their legs to launch themselves on their feet, where they could finally stand up straight. "Well that took a lot longer than I wanted it to... although I Guess it could have been worse, like the time I was learning how to walk while Jax was here and resisting. Anyway, I better check whats up outside."

Opening the door and walking out into the hallway, Gangle took note of how the new way of controlling Jax had its perks and quirks. On one hand it was far more flexible and less taxing to control the body itself. On the other hand, it was much more mentally taxing on Gangle. Looking out from the balcony to the stage, it was clear the others had left for an adventure without them, though Gangle didn't mind at all. If anything it allowed for more opportunity to try out Jax's body beyond what Gangle could do before. "Alright Jax, lets see what you were holding back!" They began by hopping onto the balcony wall with ease and began to peer out across the wide open jungle gym that was the Circus. Gangle had never been the adventurous time before, spending their time outside the tent tending to the garden, weaving fabrics together to make decorations and clothing, collecting figurines and generally keeping to themselves. But after learning how to possess Jax's body- "*jumps off balcony* WOO HOO!" -They've stepped outside their comfort zone. After all if they get hurt, its Jax who feels it afterwards. And that devious little assumption stuck in Gangles head as she parkoured across the circus' geometry like never before. "Ha... Ha... THIS IS AMAZING!" Coming up to a wide gap about 50 feet from the ground, Gangle looked up at the pipes hanging above before looking down at her ribbon hand and grinning. "Hehehe~" Jumping, she raised her hand to shoot out her ribbon, grabbing a hold of the pipe and swinging across. "WEEEEEE!!!" Unfortunately for Gangle: she was no super hero. The ribbon came loose and she smacked right into the wall of the block she was hoping to swing to before plummeting down below and hitting the ground hard." The pain shot through her like a stream boiling hot water. "AHhhHHhhH!!! %#!$ MOTHER$!#^, GOD&#!#, AHHH ha ha...." Tears began to stream down both of her faces. Picking herself up, she limped all the way back to the stage and sat in front of the wooden wall. It was then that Gangle realized that not only was she in pain, but completely exhausted too. The adrenaline and athleticism in Jax's body had masked how low its endurance was.

To be continued

[caramelpenguin]

What do you think Wille and Simon fight / disagree about the most post-s3? Of course assuming they always talk it out after <3

woahhh okkk sooo

class differences. like in s3 ep 2, wille still needs to learn how to exist outside of royalty, and i imagine therell be arguments over this. but a part of me also thinks, as wille plans to abdicate, simon might be softer on him? as he's no longer a prince? if that makes sense?

linking to that, maybe the usage of money

im not entirely sure how abdication works and what exactly happens to wille afterwards, but there might be disagreements about work/ jobs

disagreements abt how social media is handled (but this gets better with time)

probably disagreements abt kristina - ik she apologised at the end but that doesnt mean she wont continue to fuck up. but as wille chose something for himself at the end, i dont think these disagreements will be as bad as they could have been.

theyd disagree over small stuff like who fell for the other first, or when theyre first official date was, and when their anniversary is. the general coupley stuff hehehe !

thanks for the ask anon <3

[propheticpanickingnerd]

The Bat's Body Proportions but said in the most unflattering way possible

Bruce - Tall as a brick, built like a brick, flat on all sides but somehow still does shit. No flexibility at all and will get arthritis no matter what. Starts complaining about back pain in his 20s. Dislocated so many joints so many times most of them are metal.

Dick - Huge ass, minimum tits possible. He has pecs ofc he is a trained and practicing athlete, he however does not have the genes for big, he has the genes for flexible. If he had huge tits his shoulders would not survive and he needs those. Grows out hair to wide his inexistent back muscles, well he has them but its not that noticeable. Again, not born to get a bodybuilder body.

Jason - Also built like a brickhouse but he actually cares about movement and flexibility. He doesnt have much but he practices it and it is actually a really healthy practice. Huge tits. No ass. Flatest ass in the world. His pecs are huge though. He builds muscle and it shows.

Cass - Exactly like a ballerina body. Seems to have no muscles, every single muscle to her eyelids is stronger than an olympic athlete. Does not look like it but she outruns cars on the occasion. Can do unimaginable feats of strength in the most complicated outfits. She doesnt though, comfy outfits for the win.

Tim - Built like a victorian sickly child. For most of his life. He does grow at like 25 or something, i can see a shape like the flashes. Lean but definitely muscly. No tits and no ass he's still flat sorry. Continues looking like a sick victorian though, no longer a child.

Steph - You know those wrestling buff women? Thats her. She builds a lot of muscle, which she didnt know for a long time because her dad is a twink and her mother didn't work out as much as her. Somewhere between them she got the genes to grow a lot of muscles.

Damian - I cannot see him as nothing but a child but if Jon is aged up so is he. Let me cook. Definitely Bruce's jaw and general build, but he gets a lot from Talia and Ra's. Less broad shoulders, but big arms, his shape is like Bruce but if you squeezed his shoulders a bit together. Making it a lot of even. No he does not have a snatched waist, im sorry, your batman babygirl is still unbelievably flat and so is his son. Definitely has the flexibility, less than Dick but a lot more than Jason.

Duke - He has the arms of an olympic thrower or whatever those are called. Out of everyone i feel like he has the biggest arms, he however is a bit shittier at running but you know what he can just get a ride on someone idk. But thats just right now, he eventually will learn not to skip leg day. He hits hard though. Green lantern knows that, lmao get drop kicked. He's really good at the grappling bit though, he wasn't at first but boy does he fly.

Honourable mentions:

Alfred - you never know what a suit can hide

Barbara - she can lift Dick up

Helena - wrestling woman

Kate - military woman

Selina - you cannot even think she has muscles, you're wrong though

Luke - bitch baby with a tech suit, got sloppy ( not biased ) all /j i love him i know hes like a boxer or something

[iamnotthere-idonotdie]

dream of me

part four

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…………………………………………………………………………………….

synopsis: reader and bruce have moved in together and their relationship is going well. but a new gotham criminal kidnaps reader and they face sudden death, as well as a secret bruce has been keeping.

content: batman/bruce wayne x reader, cursing, no smut, violence, torture, death, blood, breaking/broken bones, kidnapping, brutality, guns, knives, vomit, graphic descriptions of violence and injuries

a/n: okay so this one took a dark turn, and i’m very surprised i was able to finish it so fast. i knew how i wanted this to play out but i wasn’t expecting it to get as graphic as it did so i do apologize for that honestly. i think what im learning is that as i write, i sort of envision it as a movie playing out in my head so sometimes it can feel more like a script than a story. also sorry if there are some wrong medical terminology and stuff in here, and sorry for any typos as well!

edit: also— i think i was kind of envisioning the joker here as seen in something like the killing joke (movie). honestly i just kind of read this joker with mark hamill’s voice altogether.

……………………………………………………………………………………

“good morning, sleep well, i hope?”

“good morning, alfred. yes i did, thank you.”

you pour yourself a cup of coffee in the kitchen as alfred makes breakfast. you grab a mug for bruce and pour his as well.

“bruce still out?”

“yes, he called and informed me that he’ll be back soon from his workout.” alfred says as he flips the omelette in the pan.

“these workouts have been getting longer and longer.”

“he does like to keep active.”

“right, he just seems to get up so early for them. the other day i woke up in the middle of the night and he was gone, it wasn’t even 4am yet.”

“he finds the 24-hour gym is less crowded in the early hours.”

alfred slides the omelette onto a plate and sets it on the small table for you.

“thank you alfred. i just worry he’s not getting enough sleep.”

“oh, i’ve been worrying about his sleep for years.”

“i sleep plenty.” bruce enters the kitchen. “morning alfred.”

“good morning, sir.”

bruce walks over to the table and kisses you.

“good morning.” you say as you hand him his coffee.

bruce sits and alfred sets a plate of breakfast in front of him too.

“thanks alfred.”

“i just hope you’re sleeping enough is all. it seems like lately it’s been less and less.” you take a sip of your coffee and look at bruce. you don’t want to be a nag, but you do worry.

he takes a sip too and looks back at you.

“i’m fine, really.”

you smile unconvincingly at him and continue eating.

the rest of breakfast is quiet, but you don’t mind the still silence. this morning routine has brought you comfort over the last few months since you moved in. alfred set up your own room when you first came, but you and bruce quickly realized you both prefer sleeping in the same bed. that is, when he’s actually sleeping in it.

you finish breakfast and bruce takes your plates and puts them in the sink, alfred already turning on the tap.

you and bruce go back upstairs and you start getting dressed for work. he doesn’t always go in, but even on days like today when his work is to be completed at home, he still drives you. he told you early on that you could work hybrid as well, that you two could work together at home on his off days. but you enjoy working at the desk. and with this new outreach project you’ve been working on, you prefer having the team in person to collaborate.

as you button your top, bruce comes up behind and wraps his arms around you, stopping you from finishing.

“bruce…” he cuts you off by kissing your neck. you leave your shirt half open as you turn around and put your arms around his neck. you kiss, letting yourself forget about work. he slides his hands down your back and pulls you in tighter. you won’t ever get enough of this.

your phone’s alarm sings to tell you it’s time to leave. bruce pulls it out of your pocket and silences it, tossing it on the bed with a smile.

“i really should go today.”

“i think you should stay.”

“i don’t know…”

“it’s not like you’ll get fired, i’m your boss.”

you laugh lightly.

“maybe i should fire you, would mean you’d get to stay home all the time.”

you laugh again and kiss him.

“well maybe i could take a sick day today.”

“don’t worry, i wont tell anyone.”

he smiles and kisses you again. all that time getting dressed was for nothing as bruce unbuttons the rest of your shirt and you slide your pants off. while this isn’t a usual part of the morning routine you’ve established, you welcome the variation.

you run your hands through bruce’s hair and watch his chest rhythmically rise and fall as he sleeps. you let him sleep as long as he seems to need to, which is much longer than you thought it’d be. you eventually drift off too, the sound of his quiet snoring lulling your eyes closed.

it’s not until late afternoon when you both wake up again, the thick curtains unable to hide the sliver of sunlight peering in.

“you let me sleep so late.” bruce sits up in bed.

“you seemed like you needed it.”

he leans down and kisses you then gets up and starts getting dressed.

“the weather is supposed to be nice today.” you sit up. “maybe we could go to the park.”

he looks at you and smiles.

“that would be nice.”

you get up and get dressed too.

“i’ll go ask alfred to pack us some lunch.”

“okay, sounds great.”

he gives you one more kiss before heading downstairs. you finish getting ready and grab your phone off the floor. a text from tim, your former coworker in california, sits in your notifications. he and his husband have adopted a young girl. you smile at the family photo he sent and reply with your congratulations. as you look at the message, you let your mind wander and start to think about the prospect. of course you know bruce would be an amazing parent. but you’re not sure if you’d be. or if that’s even what you want. your life is so perfect now and you don’t think you want any of it to change. at least not for a while.

you go downstairs and find bruce packing some sandwiches into a bag. he zips it up and looks at you.

“ready?” he asks.

“ready.”

you decide to walk to the park since it’s only a few blocks away. the sun sits on your skin like a warm blanket as you and bruce walk. the two of you sit by the pond under an oak and eat your late lunch. the sound of birds and ducks paired with the cool breeze rushing through the tree leaves make for a perfect spot. you and bruce lay down in the grass and kiss, your picnic site offering enough privacy that you don’t have to worry about people seeing you. it’s not as if either of you care anyway, really. you’re not trying to hide your relationship, and with bruce’s status it’d be nearly impossible to try. but you still try to avoid paparazzi when you can. you and bruce lie there in the park together until the sun sets slowly behind the hill.

“we should get going before it gets too dark.” bruce sits up.

“i suppose we should.”

bruce grabs the bag and holds your hand as you make your way back home. night falls quickly as you walk. with only a couple blocks to go, you hear a commotion up ahead in an alleyway. sounds of a fight echo down the street. bruce stops walking and lets go of your hand.

“stay here a second.” he hands the bag to you and starts walking toward the source of the sounds.

“wait, shouldn’t we call the police or something first? or maybe we just wait for the batman to come and take care of it. you shouldn’t go down there by yourself.”

“you can call the police.” he continues.

you let out an exasperated sigh and watch bruce turn the corner. you press the numbers 911 into your phone. you finger is just about to click the green button when a strong hand covers your mouth and drags you backwards. you scream into the glove as loud as you can but the fight drowns out your attempts at getting bruce’s attention. all you can do is move around as much as possible to try and shake this person off you but they tighten their grip and then you’re being pushed into the back of a van.

three other people are inside and they grab you. you feel the rope burn your wrists as they tie your hands together behind your back. your throat already feels like it’s being torn apart from screaming. one person spreads a strip of duct tape over your open mouth but you still try to scream for bruce. suddenly a sharp pain strikes the back of your head. the tears have been blurring your vision but now everything is even fuzzier. you let out one more sob before the pipe hits you again and everything goes black.

pain.

that’s the first thing you feel when you finally come to. that’s the only thing you feel. a throbbing, deep pain throughout your entire body like you were just spit out of a cement mixer. you’re hands are still tied behind you and your ankles are stuck to the legs of a metal chair.

you force your eyes open, but everything is still dark. have you gone blind? is your sight gone? where are you? who took you? why can’t you move? you cant see you can’t move you can’t breathe you can’t hear you’re hurting you’re crying you’re screaming you’re shaking you—

the sound of a heavy door swinging open makes you freeze. strong footsteps slowly get louder and louder, closer and closer. the footsteps stop behind you and then you’re assaulted by a harsh bright light. it was a hood over your head, and the figure has now taken it off. the footsteps make their way around you and he stops in front of the chair you’re tied to, his back toward you. your breath shakes as he just stands there, staring straight ahead.

then he starts… crying? his shoulders shake and he gets louder. no… he’s laughing. he slowly turns around to face you, his red painted on smile sending a chill down your spine.

he bends down so his face is level with yours, your noses so close they nearly touch.

“good morning sweetheart.”

the tears continue streaming down your face as he straitens back up and turns, walking toward a table against the wall in front of you. he stops at it and slowly picks up an almost comically large knife.

you sob at the sight of the weapon, knowing it’s intended for you.

“i have a problem.”

he sets the knife back on the table and turns, walking towards you. the door opens again and you see a man in a clown mask rush by and place a camera on a tripod in front of you. he presses a button and a red light comes on and flashes at you.

“a problem that can only be solved by you.”

you somehow find the strength to open your mouth and speak, the words coming out hoarse and quiet.

“…m—me?”

“yes. i am in need of some… capital. some dineros, some cold. hard. cash. now i know you’re dating ol’ brucie and i know he has some access to just a bit of money.” he walks around you and stands behind the chair. “so, brucie boy, from your friendly neighborhood joker, deposit some dolores for me in a safe and lock it up real tight. bring it to the chaplain bridge, in person, at midnight tonight along with the key and you’ll get to see your precious little babe once again.” he grabs your face and squishes your cheeks together.

“oh, silly me, i forgot to tell you how much! let’s see, oh, how about, $50 million. that seems fair enough, don’t ya think?!”

he bends down so his face is next to yours.

“isn’t 50 million enough to save the life of your dearly beloved?”

he pulls something out of his pocket. you feel the cold barrel of a gun press against your temple and let out a sob.

he pulls the gun off your head, still pointing it at you.

*click*

you scream and jolt away. terror runs through your body like electricity.

you look over and he’s still staring at you with the gun pointed in your direction. out of the barrel popped out a banner, with the word BANG! on it. he turns back to the camera and waves.

“see ya tonight.” his tone is sinister and he laughs again.

the man in the mask flips the camera off. he tosses the gun behind his back and it clacks as it hits the concrete. he claps his hands together.

“so! now’s all that’s left to do is sit by, hang tight, let loose, and wait for midnight!” he laughs again and he and the other man leave the room with the camera. the clang of the door closing echoes throughout the room as you sit there alone.

you let out an ear-piercing, guttural scream and continue sobbing. all you want is bruce. you call for him, over and over, hoping by some miracle he’ll hear you through the thick concrete walls. you keep screaming, so hard and so loud that you vomit. now bile covers the front of your shirt and tears cover your face.

the echo of the door rings through the room again and fast footsteps approach. another man in a clown mask with a syringe in his hand unties your arms. before you let him stab the needle in, you punch him in the throat as hard as you can muster. he gags at the blow at stumbles backwards, dropping the syringe. you lean to try and grab it and the chair you’re tied to tips over onto the floor. your face slams into the concrete and you hear a crunch in your nose. you cry out and now all you see is red. you fight through the pain and reach for the syringe. it’s right there, just centimeters away, when a large boot stomps on your hand, surely breaking multiple bones. you scream in pain as the chair is reset upright. you scream and sob as the men grab your arm and stab the now-dirty needle in your vein. you keep crying, but as the seconds go by, you hear yourself getting quieter. the room around you spins in slow motion as your eyelids get heavy. the last thing you see is the joker’s white face and red smile.

your eyes slowly flutter open again. you didn’t know this was even possible, but somehow you wake up in even more pain than before. the joker is still standing there in front of you. smiling. laughing.

“you’re spunky. i like you.”

you all but growl at him as he walks toward that table in the corner, picking the knife up again.

“i thought you’d be asleep until our appointment with good ol’ bruce but the tranq must have been watered down!” he turns to you and laughs.

he carries the knife as he walks toward you.

“at least now we can have a little fun!” he takes the knife and you close your eyes, preparing yourself for the pain. but instead you feel the rope around your wrists and ankles fall.

“what’s say we play a game, hmm? i’m gonna bring in three of my best boys. and the longer you can stay upright and fighting, the more likely i’ll be to not kill you and your dear dear bruce tonight.”

the door opens again and three sets of footsteps walk in behind you.

you just stay sitting in the chair. how are you supposed to fight these huge men?

the joker sighs.

“if you’re gonna be a party pooper, then i guess we’ll have to find another game to play. maybe… target practice?” he throws the knife above your head and it hits one of the three men square in the chest. he falls backwards. dead.

you gasp and try to hold back tears as the joker just laughs.

“guess i do need some practice… i was aiming for his head! haha!” he buckles over in laughter again as you try to catch your breath.

“well good news now is you only have to outlast two goons!”

you slowly stand up, not wanting the next knife to land in your sternum. one of the men walk over to you. the joker takes the gun from before out of his pocket and holds it up above his head.

“ready? fight!” he pulls the trigger with a click.

a huge fist comes flying at your face and makes contact with your cheek. you fall to the ground in pain. he kicks you in the stomach and you just stay there, laying on the ground. he stomps on your chest, your stomach, your head. all you feel is blow after blow. the joker is just laughing at your misery.

you feel a rush of adrenaline run through you and you growl in anger. when the next stomp comes toward you, you grab the booted foot and yank as hard as you can, bringing the man to the ground. you’re surprised you had the strength to do that. you quickly stand back up and kick him in the face, breaking his nose too. you kick him in the crotch and he screams. you sit on top of his chest and punch him with your unbroken hand. over and over and over. all you hear is the sound of the joker’s maniacal laugh and your own grunts as you beat the guy’s face in until he no longer resembles even a man. finally you stop, feeling proud of your strength but guilty for your brutality.

before you can get up from sitting on him, the other man is picking you up and slamming you into the concrete. your shoulder hits the ground hard and you scream. he picks you up again and throws you back first, your head colliding with the concrete so hard you’re sure they’ve both cracked. he grabs the front of your shirt and lifts you up. your body goes limp from exhaustion and he forcefully sits you back on the chair. he punches your face. one. two. three. four. five. six. times then he finally walks away. your vision is blurred and you’re seeing colorful stars flash all around you. you look down and see blood dripping down from your face and onto your lap. the joker just laughs again.

“well, you fought off one! bravo! of course that means only one of you will die tonight. shame. lovers dying together is the sweetest ending of all. romeo and juliet… swan lake… the notebook...” he pretends to wipe a tear. “but oh well. at least now you get to pick who dies! haha!”

“me.” you immediately answer. “kill me. not him.”

“awww how noble! sacrificing yourself for the love of your life, it’s a beautiful thing! very well. you’ll be the one to die.” he takes out a pocket watch. “my oh my look at that! it’s showtime, baby!”

you get tied up again and dragged out of the room. the hood is placed back on your head before exiting, and you’re thrown back into a van. the drive is longer than you expected. how far out of town were you?

the van stops after what you guess was about a half hour long drive.

you’re dragged back out of the van and onto the street. the hood is removed and the joker is gripping your neck and leading you onto the bridge.

you make it to the middle and he shoves you to the ground. you only now notice the gun in his hand.

“oh bru-uce! show me the money, baby!”

his voice echos across the water under the bridge and you wait. you hope he doesn’t come. you hope he’s decided to let the police handle it. you hope he didn’t choose to risk his life for you. because although the joker assured you that you’d be the one to die, you obviously can’t trust that he won’t pull the trigger on bruce too.

“come out come out, wherever you are!” the joker yells in a singsongy voice. “well isn’t this a disappointment! at least it was gonna be fun to kill you. now i almost can’t even enjoy it.” he points the gun in the center of your forehead. you close your eyes and let yourself cry.

you picture bruce’s face. flashbacks of when you first met him come to mind and you go through it all. you think of his smile, how it was crooked and always made you smile back. you think of his hair, how it was always just a little tussled and never quite laid flat. you think of his skin, how it was warm and how it felt against yours. you think of his laugh, how it can at times feel rare but when you hear it, it’s like the world stops. you think of his eyes, how they’d glow like warm honey when the sunlight hit them just right. tears stream as you think of every part of him. how you wish you’d spent more time memorizing him.

you hear the cocking of the gun and you gasp. you only now realize how afraid you are to die.

suddenly a loud clang behind you startles your eyes open and the joker stumbles backward. a large, dark figure comes swooping in and tackles the joker to the ground. the gun is kicked away and you watch as the batman punches the joker in the face, repeatedly. the men from the van come rushing in and the batman takes each one down with little effort.

soon, he’s standing in the lowlight of the bridge, looming over the bodies of his victims of vengeance. he walks back over to the joker and picks him up by his collar and holds him over the bridge above the water. the joker laughs.

“well then what’s it gonna be batty-boy?! you gonna kill me?! do it!”

the batman hesitates to drop him into the rough rushing river water below.

“do it!” the joker laughs in his face again.

you see the shine of red and blue lights flashing behind you and hear sirens. the sound of many footsteps come rushing onto the bridge as officers take the bodies off the ground and into custody. a few more train their guns at the batman and instruct him to let the joker go. after some time, he flings the joker back over the railing and slams him onto the ground. the officers rush to handcuff the joker and the batman walks away, back toward you.

“this isn’t over, batman! it’ll never be over!” the joker laughs again as he’s dragged away by the officers.

the batman bends down behind you and unties the ropes around your wrists.

“are you okay?” he asks, quietly. his low, gravely voice tinges with familiarity.

you just nod and he scoops you up and carries you to the ambulance. he gently sits you on the gurney and the paramedics begin treating your wounds and setting up an iv. the batman just stands there and watches, as if to make sure you’ll really be okay. you stare back at him, trying to place this strange gut feeling. the medics walk away for a moment to grab something else, leaving you and the batman there, just looking at each other.

the medics come back and start to bring you into the ambulance. up until the moment the doors close, you and the batman just continue staring. the medicine you’ve been given starts to work as you feel your eyelids get heavy. your last thought before passing out is of bruce.

the tubes in your nose and the cast on your arm are the first things you notice when you awake. your eyes adjust to the light of the hospital room and you look around, your eyes landing on an unexpected face.

tim is there, sitting by the window sleeping. alfred is in a chair next to him. he notices you’re awake and presses the alert for the nurse.

“hello, dear.”

“alfred…”

“i’ve called for the nurse. just relax.”

“…where’s bruce.”

“he… had to go to the police station. to finish up the case.”

“but he’s okay?”

“physically, yes. but i don’t think i’ve ever seen him so distraught. i’ll call him now and tell him you’re awake. he’ll want to see you.” alfred leaves the room and you see him dial his phone.

the nurse comes in and checks your vitals, making sure you’re getting enough medicine. you have a concussion, a broken hand, your shoulder was out of socket, and your nose had to be realigned. apparently it’s been days since the incident.

the joker is in custody at arkham, but that’s doesn’t give you much reassurance since he apparently has broken out of there before.

tim wakes up and walks over to you with tears streaming down his face.

“are you okay?” he asks.

“just peachy.”

he laughs lightly and wipes a tear away.

“i was so scared.”

“me too.”

“but you’re gonna be okay now. you’re okay now.” he reassures himself. you didn’t know you meant so much to him.

“thank you tim.”

he smiles softly.

“i should go call chris and let him know you’re okay.���

“okay.”

tim walks out of the room as alfred comes back in.

“bruce will be here soon.”

“thank you. i’m glad you’re here alfred.”

“of course, love.”

tim comes back in and says that chris sends his regards.

“he’s been worried sick, watching the news while also taking care of the baby.”

“if you need to go tim, go. i understand.”

“im sorry i can’t stay.”

“really tim, it’s okay. thank you for being here.”

tim smiles and holds your good hand.

“i’m just so glad you’re okay.”

“thank you.” you smile back at him and he leaves.

alfred moves the chair to be closer to your bed and he holds your hand as you wait in silence for bruce.

bruce comes rushing in wet from the rain with tears in his eyes. alfred gets up from the chair and gives it to bruce. bruce sits in the chair, holding your hand, and the two of you just sit there together.

you’ve never felt fear like that before. of course you were afraid when your mother died, but you were so young. and your father was sick for a long time before he passed, so this crippling feeling of terror was something you’ve never had to experience before and something you hope you’ll never experience again.

“i’m so sorry.” bruce fights back tears. “i should’ve never left you alone. i should’ve known better. i thought i was protecting you but really i just put you in danger. this is all my fault.”

“no it’s not.”

“it is.”

“no, bruce. it’s not.”

“i was just so… angry. at him. i still am. i really thought i was going to kill him.”

you furrow your brows in confusion.

“you mean… like… if you’d have been there? at the bridge?”

you notice alfred looks up at bruce with a curious look on his face. bruce turns his head to look back at him. alfred just nods.

you look at both of them, perplexed by this silent agreement between them.

“what’s going on?”

“there’s something you need to know… about me.”

“okay…?”

“i… i’ll show you when we get back home.”

“alright.”

bruce and alfred clear you with the doctor and confirm that you’re ready to leave so you get in the car to go home. you just lay in the backseat with your head on bruce’s lap. he runs his hand through your hair as alfred drives you all home.

the press is already there, ready to get a statement from you and bruce about the whole ordeal. of course you and bruce don’t say a word as he carries you inside.

he sets you down on the couch and lights a fire. alfred goes to the kitchen to make you something to eat. you lay on bruce’s chest on the sofa, watching the flames rise and fall. the heat of the fire brings you comfort, but bruce’s warm touch makes you feel at peace for the first time since that day at the park.

hours go by, the fire has become just a few orange embers, and you and bruce have eaten dinner. you suddenly remember what bruce said back at the hospital.

“what is it you wanted to tell me?”

bruce sighs and helps you up off the couch.

“i need to show you something.”

you slowly walk hand in hand to the library down the hall. you don’t come in here much but you know bruce and alfred do.

bruce goes to a wall in the back and pulls a book off the shelf. you hear a click and he pulls the wall out, revealing it’s a door to an elevator.

“what the fuck…”

bruce opens the elevator door and leads you inside.

“what is this?”

“something you need to see.”

the elevator slowly brings you down to a lower level you didn’t even know existed. bruce opens the door and leads you out of the elevator and into a basement. or at least what you think is a basement. inside, you see computers, televisions, and other tech items around. a motorcycle sits there too… along with a familiar-looking car. bruce lets you wander through the area. you try to absorb what this all is.

“what exactly am i looking at here, bruce?”

he walks over to a door and opens it to a closet. what’s inside, sitting on the shelf, makes you gasp. you slowly pick up the mask.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you.”

“why… how…”

“i’ve been doing this for years now. i just… this is how im able to try and help. only alfred knows.”

“and you couldn’t tell me? why?”

“everyone who knows about this is in danger. i couldn’t knowingly do that to you. but you deserve to know.”

“i… don’t even know what to say.”

bruce closes the closet door.

“i come down here every night. that’s why i’ve been gone so early in the morning. i’ve known about joker for a while and have been trying to track his whereabouts.”

“but now, he’s locked up. he’s gone.”

“as long as he’s alive, he’s a danger. and it’s not just him. you’ve lived here your whole life. you know what these streets are like.”

you just nod.

“so… this is what you do every night. you go out, after i fall asleep then return before i wake up.”

“i try. but some nights are longer than others.” bruce walks up to you and holds your hand. “but now you know.”

you just nod again, not quite knowing what to say.

“i will never forgive myself for leaving you alone that night, and i will spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it.”

you look up at him. a tear rolls down his cheek and you wipe it away, leaving your hand on his face.

“i was so afraid of losing you.” he speaks barely above a whisper.

“you’re not gonna lose me. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

he kisses you. in this room, this room that’s been kept a secret from you. this other side of bruce that’s been kept a secret from you. you want to be angry, but all you feel now is peace as he holds you in his arms.

whatever future may come, whatever troubles you will inevitably be forced to face, you know that you’ll now be able to do it together.

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