#anyways he passed due to old age at 16 — it was simply his time to go and i still miss him terribly.

[pendraegon]

today is the 13th of january and it was the birthday of my childhood dog, sparkle (^:

[lightningproductions-yt]

Seg_fault (A Sonic.exe Retake)

It was another boring, average day in the town of Malden. Tom just got home from university after a long and stressful day. He knew he had a lot of homework to do, but he really didn’t feel like doing it. He never really liked going to college anyway. He only enrolled in the courses because his mom pretty much forced him to. So to clear his head a bit, he decided to call his friend Kyle to see if he wanted to go hangout somewhere with each other. Once he answered, he agreed and so Tom made his way over to Kyle’s place.

When he got there, Kyle seemed a lot more excited than usual. He was always a very cheerful person but this time it seemed like he had won the lottery or something. Tom asked what was up and Kyle told him to follow him because he has something to show him. They go upstairs to Kyle’s room and that’s when Tom sees it. The thing they’ve been searching for what felt like ages for. It was a copy of Knuckles’ Chaotix. The game came out back in 1995 which was over 16 years ago so finding one of these was not an easy task to do. They were both huge Sonic fans and this was the one game they hadn’t played yet. So, Kyle put the cartridge into the 32X and started it up.

Once the game booted up, they noticed that something was strange already. On the title screen, Sonic was there standing with the rest of the Chaotix. This shouldn’t be possible since they knew Sonic only showed up at the end of the good ending during the credits. They shrugged it off as just an easter egg and decided to do a two player game. Tom chose Knuckles and Kyle chose Mighty. When they got to the first level they once again noticed something. Sonic was there just standing in front of them. They soon found out that they could actually interact with him when they walked up to him. A text box appeared over Sonic’s head that simply said “You must collect the six Chaos Rings in order to stop Robotnik!”. They didn’t remember being able to interact with NPCs but they thought it was a neat addition so they kept playing. Once they finish the level, the game just freezes on them which ends up scaring the shit out of Kyle due to not expecting it. Tom laughed a bit while Kyle went to reset the console.

It seemed to work just fine. That’s what they thought until they got to the hub world. Knuckles and Mighty had a paranoid expression now. Like something just set them on high alert. “What the heck is going on?” Kyle asked. “No clue.” Tom replied. They then saw that Knuckles and Mighty were running on their own now without them even touching their controllers. At this point, they assume that the game is broken. It was an old cartridge after all so it made sense that it would be somewhat broken. Kyle seemed disappointed but Tom cheered him a bit after saying that he’d look into getting a new one. That’s when they heard a voice come from the TV. It sounded threatening and almost comforting in a way. It simply said “Found you.” When they turned back to the screen, they saw that Sonic had appeared in front of Knuckles and Mighty but he did not look the same at all.

He was hunched over like he was ready to attack. His shoes had turned into a darkened cyan color. The ends of his quills were covered in black as if they were in the shadows. There was an X carved into his chest. The worst part was his face. His eyes were a blood red color. He had black tears coming out of his eyes and he had a malicious grin with yellow, rotted looking teeth. At this point, Kyle is freaking out while Tom seems a bit stunned himself. Sonic starts walking slowly and methodically towards Knuckles and Mighty but right before he reaches them, the screen goes black.

Did that really just happen? Tom thought to himself. Kyle seemed really shaken from the whole ordeal. Tom tried to comfort him but Kyle just simply asked if Tom could leave since he wanted to be left alone. Tom didn’t argue so he left and went back home.

Weeks passed by and it was becoming very clear that Kyle had changed. He told Tom that he kept playing the game and that Sonic’s actions would only get worse. He told him that he saw Sonic kill everyone in the game except for the chameleon because instead he was torturing him and made Kyle watch. Tom kept trying to tell Kyle to get rid of the game but Kyle told him that the game was stuck inside his console and wasn’t coming out at all. Then, one day while Tom is in class, he gets a text from Kyle. When he read it, he knew that this situation just took a turn for the worst.

“Tom, I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been trying to get rid of this game but it’s becoming clear that not only is ‘Sonic’ after the characters in the game, but he also wants to kill ME. I can’t let him have what he wants. But I also don’t want to live with the things I saw. This will be the last time you ever hear from me again. You have been the greatest friend I’ve ever had in my life. Thank you, Tom. For everything. Goodbye.”

Tom ran out of his class and ran all the way to Kyle’s house after reading the message. He bursts into the building and sees what Kyle meant in his message. He had slit his wrists with a knife and bled out from the injury. Tom breaks down next to the body and starts crying intensely. His best friend that he has known ever since they were kids was gone. If he had gotten there fast enough, he maybe could’ve saved him. His crying was interrupted when he heard something from the TV. Sonic was on the screen laughing manically while standing next to the bodies of Knuckles, Mighty, Charmy and Vector but Espio was nowhere to be seen at all. Sonic still looked like how he was before when Kyle and Tom first saw him when he changed his colors but now he had blood all over him and the words “segmentation fault” was in the corner of the screen.

“What in God’s name are you?! Why are you doing this to us?! We did nothing to you! KYLE did nothing to you!” Tom screamed at the screen. Sonic stopped laughing. He looked at Tom and smiled.

“There is no God. There’s only me.”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

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

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

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

Jason scoffed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

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

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

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

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

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

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

Jason rolled his eyes.

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

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

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

He found that adorable.

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

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

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

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.”

***

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

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

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

He frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

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

Dick let out a loud groan.

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

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

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

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

It was the first time you smiled at him.

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

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

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

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

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

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

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

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason frowned to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

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

Yet, he really wanted to know.

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

But he never got to it.

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

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

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

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

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

Your hair was long now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why did you want to find me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

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

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

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

Shit.

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

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

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

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

Jason remained silent in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

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

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

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

Fuck, he remembered.

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

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

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

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

You finally looked at him.

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

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

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

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

“Favour?”

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

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

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

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

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

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

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

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

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

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

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

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

Jason was taken aback.

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

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

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

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

You strutted away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As expected, you let go of him.

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

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

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

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

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

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

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

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

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

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

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

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

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

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

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

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

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

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

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

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

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

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

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

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

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

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

And you gave him a wicked grin.

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

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

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

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

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

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

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

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

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

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

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

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

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

“And?” Bruce questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now, he let his thoughts free.

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

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

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

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

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

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

But you were still sixteen.

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

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Try not to lick. R.

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

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

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

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

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

Or did he?

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

He swallowed hard.

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

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

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

“Jason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

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

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

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

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

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

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

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

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

He glanced at the gun next to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

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

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

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about Roy?”

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

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

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

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

“His type?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

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

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

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

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

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

“A chance for what?” he grit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

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

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

“I mean-”

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

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

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

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

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

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

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

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

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

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

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

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

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

“Roy,” Jason growled.

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

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

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

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

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

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He slammed the door shut behind him.

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

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

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[snoopdoodle]

snow storm

platonic!ranboo x male!reader

pronouns: he/they

summary: Y/N was an admin on the dreamsmp. They had not wanted to play any part in what was happening around him, not liking the attention that would be given to them. He had made a little cottage further away, in his own little plot, a neutral area in a fitting tundra biome, on their own. Until one day when an enderman-like 16 year old comes around, searching for a good cave without Technoblade and Philza, and not expecting to find a god in a cottage after a snow storm picks up.

SO! I will say that for this one-shot/story, the reader has 4 wings on their back, and keeps their height at around 10’4. They have the ability to change heights, but for this, I wanted to make it so they had intimidation. As a god/admin, the reader already knows Dream, DreamXD, and Philza. Philza spoke to Y/N before, and he would say that they are on the border of friends- ANyway, continue. :)

The winged person looked around. The shine of the morning sun bounced off of the trees in the dense spruce tundra. The sets of wings fluttered on the Admin’s back as he plucked the carrots from the ground. The basket that had been holding got heavier with every crop put in. There was enough food in this 12 x 23 crop bed to last for years. And it did. The god was at the ripe age of 12, 914, which in a god’s case, was pretty fucking old. Yet, the admin still had the face of a 24 year old. A slight stubble appeared on his chin, which he would have to shave later. The snow had begun to pick up, and the temperature had decreased a bit more. A storm was brewing around him, and they didn’t want to have to get caught in the rapid-growing cold any longer. 

 The god had used one of his wings to block his face, and the other 3 to wrap around himself to preserve heat. Y/N walked up to the entrance of the house, ducking down when he made it into the 9-foot-tall door frame. They walked inside the cottage immediately taking in the heat. Hey, you might be wondering, ‘Why doesn’t Y/N just use their powers to make himself warmer?’ You then might think, ‘That’s not how his powers work, probably.’ Well, I hate to break it to ya, but they can exactly do that. And no, they aren’t too lazy to do it, and no, they know how to. It’s just that he doesn’t. They had been living in a “survival” set mind for so long that he just doesn't see the need to anymore. Sitting down on the large leather chair they made, he heaved a sigh.

His wings scrunched uncomfortably behind him. He chuckled a bit as he felt a touch to his wings. “Hello there, chat,” He greeted the shadow-like figure. They were about 5’5 in height, happily preening their wings. That was a figure that had many different voices. All telling him to do different things. Some asked to go mining, some asked if they could feel the crops, others wanted to sleep, and his favorites were the ones who begged to feed the farm animals. He laughed again, as Chat had pulled a wing, tickling them. A knock interrupted his thoughts and laughter.

“Hello?” A muffled voice came through the thick dark-oak door. Y/N put on a stoic face, nodding for chat to hide in their room. Chat nodded and ran off. Another knock came as Y/N stood on their feet. They grabbed an enchanted netherite axe and walked over to the door. “H-Hello? Is someone there…?” The same voice came again, this time fear laced in every word. Y/N realized that this was the voice of a child now. He put down his weapon and opened the door, only to be met with a half and half person. Their eyes were heterochromic, one a deep red and the other was a forest green. The boy looked up after begging startled by the door opening, only to be met with a 4 winged person who rivaled his height. “Come in,” Y/N spoke, with a caring tone, ushering the boy in, knowing full well why he needed to get inside.

“Th-Thanks,” The boy stuttered due to the chattering of his teeth. Y/N found this fatherly instinct that he decided to put to use, wrapping the boy in a blanket that was on the end of the couch and starting up a fire. His wings fluttered with delight at the boy’s smile. “I’m Y/N.” They started simply before jogging into the kitchen. “Stay there!” He yelled from the other side of the room, “ I’ll make you some warm food!” The half enderman nodded, even though it went unseen. He began to scooch closer to the fire that the stranger had put on ever-so-kindly for him. He smiled and pulled out his memory book, nerves still on high alert as he saw weapons hanging on the wall and one on the ground by the door.

‘A person by the name of Y/N let me in their home during the snowstorm. They have 4 wings, pretty (color) hair and (color) eyes. They seem nice, but I still should be weary as of right now.

-8:24pm’

He closed the book as soon as the ink dried and put the bok back into his inventory. Y/N had walked in right as he put the book up.

“AH, good, you’re heating up. Anyway, there is some steak. It warmed it up in one of my furnaces, but if you don’t want it, it’s fine.” Y/N gave a soft smile, still trying to keep their stoic face on. The boy smiled back but it was strained due to the cold. Y/N took a few steps towards the boy, still not trying to scare him. He seemed to realize this, but stood still. They walked over to him and sat a few blocks away, the heat of the fire radiating off the wood. The enderman stood still, not knowing what to do. "I’m sorry to sound rude, but do you think you could give me your name?” He asked kindly. The younger nodded his head a tad bit. Y/N decided to sit down.“My n-name is Ranboo.” He spoke, teeth still chattering a tad. The man smiled and knocked on the floor twice, telling chat it would be ok to come back out. "Alright then Ranboo, We'll wait for the storm to pass and I'll help you get home after, sound good?" Ranboo smiled, looking at the man again. "Yeah, sounds great."

FIRST POST AHHH!!! START SENDIN' REQUESTS !! :D

[demonslayedher]

The Sound Pillar past, I have heard that explore a bit in databook about being ninja.

Also what happened his sibling that still remain.

Also what there react

Combining info from the fanbooks and Chapters 80, 87, and 90 we get the following narrative of Uzui Tengen and his family, as complete as I could fill it in. It's always possible the anime version will expand and give us more, but here's what I've got in chronological format.

Uzui Tengen's father was the leader of their clan, one of a few ninja clans who lived in close community. Ninja were regularly sent on missions, but it is not clear what those missions were. Women and children were also expected to undergo strict training and go on missions, but women were primarily only valued as baby-makers, and it was common for one man to take multiple wives. The wives, at least in the Uzui case, were chosen upon agreements between families. (For more commentary on the unusual and cult-like nature of the Uzui ninja clan, please see this post.) In Chapter 80, Makio recalls how she never used to be afraid of dying because she was so brainwashed to believe her only value as a kunoichi (female ninja) was to put her life on the line in support of the strong male ninja. Tengen is the oldest of nine children. Of note, Fanbook #2 states that he has a mother and father from whom the nine children came, but as multiple wives is the norm in this village and Uzui was 15 when they were forced to fight each other, I think it's reasonable to assume many of them were half-siblings (even if all with one very busy wife, that would make the youngest one only around 7~9 years old or so, by my guess. But, it doesn't seem unreasonable in this clan that an 8-year-old would be expected to take part in this fight.)

Tengen had his three wives by the time he was 15. Since he is 23 when canon takes place and Hinatsuru (from a ninja clan second in rank to the Uzui clan and who has a good balance of core ninja skills) is 21, Makio (physically a highly capable ninja but her short temper causes her to fail her missions and yes, she is Tengen's cousin, please restrain your knee-jerk reactions and accept the cultural difference and move one) is 20, and Suma is 19 (and yes, Fanbook #2 said she likes both men and women), that means his wives were respectively 13, 12, and 11 when they fled the village. As Suma's younger sister was originally the one being considered as a bride, this means they were willing to marry off girls even younger than that. See this post for more commentary on multiple wives in the Taisho period, and as an added note, the legal age for women to marry in Taisho was 16. The Uzui ninja clan was entirely counter-cultural in the first place, though, so this doesn't apply very directly to them. Furthermore, due to their curse, the Ubuyashiki clan had very usually early expectations for children to wed, and they always run a not officially recognized organization. Otherwise, most of the cast seems to follow more usual Meiji/Taisho family patterns. Of the nine siblings, three of them died before Tengen turned 15, simply due to the lifestyle. When Tengen was 15 (clarified according to Fanbook #1), Tengen's father pit the remaining six siblings against each other so that only the strong would remain. They were all concealing their identities and did not know they were fighting their own siblings. According to Fanbook #2, Tengen killed two of them, and his younger brother (second oldest) killed another two, and Tengen was pissed when he realized what was happening. He couldn't bring himself to kill his remaining brother, though that brother was just like their father when it came to his values that only the strong should survive, and he really didn't care about killing his own flesh and blood. This was when Tengen decided he didn't want to live like this, and he took his wives and fled. For a while (according to Fanbook #2), he often said he should go to hell, but this made Makio angry, it made Hinatsuru cry, and it made Suma bite him so he stopped saying that. He did continue to think that he should eliminate the rest of this evil Uzui clan, but he could never bring himself to kill his father and little brother. (So, fanfic writers, grab your pens, we can assume the Uzui clan is still active.) Anyway, once he was free of that lifestyle where he had to constantly hide his presence, he thoroughly rebelled and embraced the flamboyant.

It's unclear when and how Tengen learning Breathing technique. It's possible there was knowledge of this technique in some form or another among the ninja (though his wives don't seem to display it), and it's also possible he learned from a cultivator. Sound is an off-shoot of Thunder, but it's unclear whether Sound was established before he came along, or if he created this Breath to make extra use of his keen hearing. (What I would give to see Tengen/Kuwajima interactions, preferably arguing about which Breath is superior.) It's unclear how much time passed between fleeing the clan and joining the Demon Slayer Corps. Given his ninja skills, as soon as he found out about the Corps (and perhaps by extension, demons), passing the Final Selection was probably a breeze for him. It was either right after the Final Selection (and therefore still waiting for his uniform), or just as he had made up his mind to join the Corp that he declares his new rule to his wives: their lives are #1 priority. #2 priority is morally upright humans, and #3 is Tengen himself.

And they're like, "whaaaaaaaat."

But sure enough they all accept the demon slaying mission, and before long, Tengen and his wives meet Oyakata-sama one fine spring day, I assume upon attaining the rank of Sound Pillar. Oyakata-sama sympathizes with how hard it must had been for Tengen--for all of them--to go against what they were raised to believe, and to fight to protect people in what they've deemed a morally upright course of life. Tengen's like, "this guy gets it" and becomes as big a fanboy as any other Pillar is for Oyakata-sama. It's purely conjecture, but I'm guessing he and Oyakata-sama both were somewhere around age 15~17 at this meeting (again, we don't know how much time has passed since Tengen left the ninja. Due to Kanae and Tengen's shared presence at later flashbacks, he couldn't had been older than 18~19). Tengen goes on to be super popular. The most popular Pillar in the Corp, Taisho Rumor has it. His wives all help on missions too, but there's an agreement that they'll get out and live a happy domestic life once they've bagged an Upper Moon--enough of a contribution to, perhaps, to feel they've atoned for the sins they committed as ninja (or at least, this was how Hinatsuru proposed the idea). Once the arm gets chopped and the eye gets cut, Tengen gains a really good excuse for retiring, but it was just his luck to have declared three Tsuguko within hours of his forced retirement. (Like, I doubt this counts for anything. And if he ever calls them that again his trio of Tsuguko are probably going to be more confused than anybody else.) Anyway, Nezuko brings him back from the brink of poison-induced death and he basically walks home. While still involved in the Corp in training the rank and file members and guarding Kiriya upon his becoming Oyakata-sama (meaning he, like Himejima, was trusted with knowledge in advance about Kagaya's very flamboyant exit plan). After that he truly goes into domestic retirement mode and makes friends with a fellow lop-sided former Pillar, however drab he always thought that person was. He takes enough of a liking to said former Pillar that he brings him along on co-ed hot spring dips and lets him hold his first child. Which of the three wives birthed the first child, we don't know. And then one of his descendants goes on to be a flamboyant gymnast, but still gathers once a year under Ubuyashiki's leadership to perform the Sound Breath forms as a sacred Kagura dance. And we still don't know what became of Tengen's brother. For all we know, modern gymnast Uzui Tenma and his six other siblings regularly avoid explosive attacks on their life from a generations-held promise to eliminate them. PARKOUR---but more flamboyant. (I hope it's obvious that I am being silly here and have no canon basis for this.)

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny

[triangulumlights]

YGO’s royal family and Akhnaden’s motives

So I was making a little spreadsheet to procrastinate help while fic-writing, which keeps track of how I’m romanizing names, character stats like ages and heights, etc etc, and I in doing so I noticed something I thought was interesting.

While I was adding Akhnamkanon (mostly for the name thing), I had all these blank spots for the rest of his info and was like oh, he and Akhnaden are twins (in the anime, at least), I can use Akhnaden’s stats for some stuff like age. So Akhnaden’s canon age is 46 (that’s a hard-lived 46; all the genocide probably isn’t good for your skin), which means Akhnamkanon would’ve been 46 too if he were still alive.

So then I was trying to figure out how old he would’ve been when he died, and it’s implied it was about five years (ish, since nothing in YGO can be nicely explicitly states) before everything with Zork, so he might’ve been 41 when he died. Okay cool, but then I was like wait a sec, he would’ve been 30 or 31 (depending again on vague canon) when Atem was born, and that stood out to me as potentially very interesting.

We know Atem was probably an only child, since there’s never any siblings mentioned and his first cousin Seth is considered (only by Akhnaden, but still) to be the next in line for succession. It could’ve been that Atem was the only child born to the Great Royal Wife and he has half-siblings with different mothers, but it’s really unlikely that they would’ve never been mentioned in canon at all, especially since sibling bonds are so important in Yuugiou as theme.

And, speaking of sibling bonds, it’s stated in the anime Akhnamkanon and Akhnaden are twins (though I don’t think it ever says if they’re identical or fraternal, and in the manga Akhnaden may simply be younger, but I’m going with anime for this since it’s more detailed.) Akhnamkanon is chosen as the crown prince, indicating the twins were the first born sons of the previous pharaoh. Again, there are never any siblings mentioned (male or female) and since the relationship between Akhnamkanon and Akhnaden is an important part of the plot, it seems pretty unlikely they had other siblings themselves.

So basically, it seems like Akhnamkanon and Akhnaden were the only children of their father (and were born at the same time, being twins; if they aren’t twins in the manga, then they were still the only children but were born at different times), and both Akhnaden and Akhnamkanon had one child each (again, if Seth had siblings it surely would’ve been a plot point considering present-day Seto and Mokuba, and there were no older children shown in Akhnaden’s flashback about leaving his family.)

Seth is slightly older than Atem (he’s 19, and I’m using Atem’s official age of 16 for this, even though he should probably be slightly younger than that), so Akhnaden had Seth at around 27, and Akhnamkanon had Atem around 30 (again, give or take a year on all these ages due to unclear dates, rounding months, etc etc.)

That certainly isn’t too old for either of them to be having kids, but is is unusual in terms of ancient Egypt, and especially unusual for the pharaoh. This leads me to wonder if this family might’ve had trouble with conceiving or, more generally, having healthy children.

If so, that might suddenly make Akhnaden’s resentment of Atem have more layers to it than it did before. It’s a little out there for Akhnaden to legitimately think Seth should’ve been pharaoh (aside from Akhnaden feeling cheated about not becoming pharaoh himself), but if Akhnaden might’ve had reason to believe Akhnamkanon would never produce an heir at all, he might’ve started to believe Seth would be in line. If Akhnamkanon couldn’t have children and never produced an heir before he died, Akhnaden would likely be the next pharaoh and could then pass that onto his son. What would’ve originally been an unattainable, slightly delusional dream of his son being pharaoh could’ve looked for a time like it might have a chance at, against all odds, being reality.

Except then Atem was born, and that ruined everything. Shortly afterward, Akhnaden created the Sennen items and, in the process, decided he had to give up his family to do so. So, for the second time Akhnaden felt cheated out of being pharaoh and passing that power down to his son, but this time he’d gotten so close to it happening only to end up losing even more than he already had.

The possibility that this might’ve intensified his resentment toward Atem (and Akhnamkanon, probably) feels like it would fit, and it could explain why the moment it looked like he could use Atem’s disappearance for his own benefit he jumped on the opportunity; instead of it having always been a foregone conclusion that Akhnamkanon would have children and one of them would inherit the throne, Akhnaden had truly deluded himself into believe he and then Seth would be pharaoh, and then Atem had ‘taken’ that from them. But now Atem was gone, so why shouldn’t Seth be pharaoh? Not only was he Akhnaden’s son, but he was high priest and that also put him in line for succession. It was perfect. Somehow everything was falling into place.

Only Atem wasn’t dead after all, and just like that, this vision of the future that was miraculously within Akhnaden’s grasp was gone once again. But this time, especially with the power of Zork on his side, Akhnaden wasn’t going to just accept reality; instead, he was going to take what was ‘rightfully’ his.

And, of course, Akhnaden does eventually get what he always wanted in the end: Seth became pharaoh. It just came at the cost of almost everyone Seth had ever loved, including his cousin, but that was okay; Akhnaden’s got what he wanted, and that was always more important than family anyway.

[hollenka99]

The Life and Times of TommyInnit

Summary: Tommy was born into a loving family. He dies long before he should have with no-one there to help him.

Warnings: Death, abuse, manipulation, violence

Tommy is born into a loving family. He has grandparents, an abundance of aunts and uncles, not to mention even more cousins. All of them ready to welcome the newest member of their family with affection. In the first week or two of his life, a number of his neighbours from their village make brief visits too. When he learns to walk then subsequently run, his father prepares to tell him once he's older of how he regretted letting Tommy discover his legs. Permitting his son to figure out how to control his mouth and tongue in a way that forms words is something else he will one day jokingly claim he shouldn't have done either. If the little boy isn't playing with nearby cousins or local children his age, he is making himself heard. Most of the time, he does both. Tommy is an incredibly happy toddler. It comes to an abrupt end during the late autumn he is three. Pillagers arrive and with them comes trouble. Both of Tommy's parents are good fighters. In a world like this where danger could appear from any dark corner, you somewhat have to be. But Tommy is far too young to have their skills imparted upon him through lessons in their garden like he was due to begin years from now. So his mother takes several supplies, grabs him and leaves him a relatively safe distance away. On a hill overlooking their village, he is handed an iron sword and instructed to stay safe while he waits. She tells him it will be all over by nightfall, that the weapon is only a precaution, that she loves him and will be back soon. A peck on the forehead is the last interaction they will ever have because unfortunately for everyone involved, these pillagers have developed a tactic to deal with those who are harder to suppress. His parents and their families before them have traveled far from a place known as Spawn. With no sufficient bed to rely on anymore, anyone who doesn't permanently fall to an arrow will be too far to interfere as it is. Night does come with no rescue for the three year old in sight. His parents are fine, they're still resisting the assault on the place they call home, but from the darkness mobs arise with the intent to harm any individual unfortunate to cross their path. Tommy is one such individual. He had been advised to make a hole in the dirt if worse came to worst but he has no time to do so when faced with the skeleton that will destroy the life he knew. When he respawns, he wakes an inconceivable distance from home. His parents will look, oh how they will search, but it will all be for naught. He will grow up with no real recollection of them and no awareness of how the initial realisation that he is truly gone causes them to crumble. By the time an 11 year old boy with a brown fringe long enough to potentially warrant a trim stumbles upon him, spring is starting to get underway. Tommy himself isn't quite sure how he managed to survive the winter months. There was a great deal of trespassing on people's property and eating whatever he could get his hands on though, he knows that. Yet here was this much older boy speaking gently, offering shelter and decent meals if Tommy trusted him enough to follow him back home. He risks allowing himself to take this chance. Besides, he's made himself into a child that's faster and more agile than a stranger would expect from someone his age, all for the sake of survival. If really necessary, he could escape back to this spot by the stream and find a new place where 'Wilbur' can't find nor hurt him. He tells himself as they walk that he's only going because he's being living in a state of perpetual hunger, cold and with an anxiety he can't place because it hasn't left him since he first respawned. Gaining a few hours' reprieve from that can't be an awful idea, right? The truth is that he is on the cusp of 4 (although he had no way of knowing this) and he needs someone to take care of him, he should not be responsible for his own survival at this age. So yes, he goes with Wilbur, meets the boy's winged father, gets handed a mushroom stew which he scarfs down too quickly for his stomach not to ache shortly thereafter before being directed to Wilbur's bed for the night where he cries because wow, this truly seems like luxury after months on the ground. Phil and Wilbur insist that he remains in their care. With nothing to lose, he doesn't say no. Before getting separated from his family, he had been an only child who hoped for his parents to give him a sibling. They hadn't, at least not by the time the raid happened. Wilbur, however, was the brother he had longed to have. Better yet, Wilbur was older so the responsibility of being the eldest fell on him rather than Tommy. He could be a nuisance and, so long as he didn't push his luck too much, he was allowed to get away with it for the most part. Phil wasn't always present as a father figure so that role subsequently fell on Wilbur as well. His brother shows him a cave in a cliff face that he'd made his secondary base for when the rations Phil had left ran too low to last however long this trip would go on for. By the time Tommy is perhaps 8 or so, once Phil has met Technoblade and chosen to make the piglin his travel companion, he and Wilbur visit that cave so often it is practically their new home. No, that place was home. With its small fireplace, the colourful beds by the wall and sign declaring it theirs positioned next to the exterior of the front door, it was where he felt most safe. That is why, when the time came for him to leave in order to see more of the world than the view from the windows, his heart was afflicted by a bittersweet pang at the sight of it. He loves Wilbur, would follow him anywhere by this point. So when he shows up on the SMP, talking about making drugs in a van and fighting to gain freedom from tyrannical oppressors, Tommy can't help but be his ever loyal right hand man. He is 16 and ready to go down with a fight. He's made friends, Tubbo especially, all of whom are in it together. Until Eret decides they do not believe in the revolution. While dealing with the aftermath, Tommy's mind refuses to stop reminding him he was the one to press the button in that dreadful room. Perhaps if he hadn't but no... rationally, he knows full well someone else, likely Eret themself, would have simply done it instead. But when has trauma ever been rational? Besides, it's hardly like Eret's betrayal has ended the conflict so he hasn't got the time to dwell on what could have gone differently. He is a teenager who is down a life yet refuses to let that stop him. He challenges Dream with no intention of forfeiting his second life. He does anyway. Then L'Manburg finally wins the right to be free so any sacrifices he's made to get to this point are internally deemed worth it. By now, Dream has stolen two of his lives, reduced him to a point he's been more mortal than anyone his age should be. Tommy has suffered fatal trauma to his head and later bled out following a fight. There's a pattern here to be seen yet he'd rather ignore it. Dream's backed off anyway so what threat would he be? The owner of this place can return to the guy who enjoys the company of his friends, separate from Tommy and his own circle of friends, once more. Tommy will stay out of his way for obvious reasons however, there is less reason to now. A part of him hopes it will stay that way. He senses something has begun to change with Wilbur during the elections, That said, he isn't entirely sure and waves it off as the consequences of Wilbur leading the war effort. His excuses are not permitted to remain for long. Schlatt wins, they sprint away from the home they made only for Tommy to be left with the task of carrying Wilbur's invisible temporary corpse before the duo settle in a ravine he'd discovered. Pogtopia is where things truly go to shit, he thinks. Or perhaps they'd already been going downhill but their exile accelerated it all. Techno grows an abundance of those stupid potatoes shortly after his arrival and Dream is promising stacks of TNT for the sake of obliterating the newly rebranded Manberg. Meanwhile, Wilbur has gone off the rails in a big way. Try as he might, Tommy can't seem to figure out what the right words or actions to get him stop are. So Wilbur deteriorates further into paranoid, pyromaniacal madness. When things get worse and he wishes, though god knows he would never allow himself to openly admit it to anyone else, that he'd never left that faraway cliff face. Wilbur has them trespass on the festival in Manberg with the intent of it being the nation's final hour. All that comes to pass is Tommy watching his best friend be executed for being a spy then listening as Wilbur cheers while Technoblade triumphs over him in a fight. In a messed up way, he is somewhat glad when mid November comes. They fight, win, witness Schlatt's pathetic demise, feel as though they can look to a better future, lose Wilbur as well as a huge chunk of land, protect themselves against Techno's withers and get left with the task of rebuilding their home. It's an eventful day which Tommy is happy to leave behind him. Although, he isn't quite so pleased to deal with its aftermath. It's... two or maybe three weeks, he believes, before shit hits the fan as it inevitably was due to once again do. It would seem that Dream wasn't satisfied with messing with people's lives from the sidelines anymore. He drives a wedge between Tommy and Tubbo with his threat of sky-high walls, as if the weak points in their friendship were always easily accessible for the purposes of exploitation. Then he's being led away to a far off location with only the ghost of his brother and the man who will immediately take advantage of the situation for company. Ghostbur is nice yet Tommy yearns for him to be different, for him to keep his disarmed personality while regaining the memories that would allow for them to resolve the pain Wilbur left him with. Whatever... it's not like he stays. Dream confuses his mind with all his assurances of friendship as he robs him of his right to property. When it finally ends (on his own terms but thankfully not the ones he was planning to go through with hours before), he attempts to find a new beginning with Technoblade. He should have known it would end badly. Everything always seem to do so nowadays. Even L'Manburg. Or should he call it something akin to L'Mancrater after the events of Doomsday? He's pleasantly surprised when he is granted the ability to sit on the bench by his house, Tubbo by his side, and listen to the discs he's fought to regain for so long. He'd nearly lost so much in that room far below the earth. Part of him wonders if it's a cruel prank, whether something will come later in the week to say 'ha, look at you getting your hopes up'. It... doesn't. He begins work on his hotel with the help of Sam Nook. The tasks come across as menial and he complains yet finds them oddly satisfying. Nook is building the actual thing but he's playing his part. It's going to be great once it's finished. He's recruited Jack Manifold to assist in running the place, Tubbo is safe in Snowchester, the Egg stuff is dumb but if he keeps his head down it will hopefully leave him alone for the most part. He's ready for closure and moving on from the pain that's been constantly inflicted upon him over the past several months. He believes the best starting point is visiting Dream in prison one last time. Just one quick trip then he can carry on with his life. Nobody, least of all himself, has any idea how much of a mistake this will be. The final days of his life, as oblivious to them being so as he is, are miserable. He does his best to stay strong, to defy Dream's attempts at worming his way back into Tommy's head with his verbal poison. Sam must be sick of him given how many times he screams to be let out already when the possibility of Sam being within hearing range arises. He hates it here. He doesn't want to look at the lava which acts as the main source of illumination, he wishes the cell was less confining, all he can taste is the starch from the potatoes. Perhaps the worst part is not knowing how far into the week he is. Then Sam, the bastard, announces it's been 7 days but due to the security breach still going unresolved, Tommy will have to hold on a little longer. An argument erupts between the inmates. It begins to get physical when the subject of Schlatt's resurrection book is brought up. He acts so confident that he will survive this hellhole, that he will endure it out of spite for Dream as well as sheer defiance alone. But in the end, he's crying, begging, pleading for Dream to stop. In the end, he's simply a 16 year old kid who is getting beaten to death by the man who has been abusing him for months with no-one there to conceivably rescue him in time. He remembers Wilbur once explaining to him that life wasn't fair. Not quite in a 'life sucks and then you die' kind of way. More like 'life isn't easy, especially not for people like us who were put at a disadvantage early on, but you persevere with your best effort since life isn't obligated to care... and then you die'. Life wasn't fair when pillagers raided his village, when he was forced to survive on his own, when the only adult figure in his life left a kid in his early teens to raise him, when he watched the man he considered a brother lose his way, when his best friend was executed in front of him, when another adult manipulated others so that he would be vulnerable to abuse and it certainly wasn't going to be fair when he wanted some semblance of closure from all the shit he was put through. He wishes he could be 7 again, back when he could easily wriggle his way into Wilbur's bed on the other side of their makeshift cliff home and be comforted without any resistance. As much as he hated it, he longs for that dumb piece of carpet in the corner where Wilbur would make him sit if he made too much of nuisance of himself. His brother used to tease him and bemoan his behaviour when he was sent there but if Tommy ever became genuinely upset, Wilbur would quickly cut it out and apologise. He misses the coziness of it and all the fond memories of him and his big brother growing up on their own terms since they were the only family the other truly had. He wishes he could be laughing with Tubbo and the rest of their friends. He knows he hasn't been the most present recently but for good reason. His brain is tired of figuring out whether he's alright and even when it's offered a chance for serotonin, it's hesitant. That day after they beat Dream and retrieved the discs, he'd been filled with so much euphoria. The stress of that day's events and the weird place Wilbur's disembodied voice had temporarily sent him to aside, he'd been happy. It had only been some 5 or so weeks ago that Tommy had been hopeful and looking forward to what came next. He had the BigInnit Hotel to return to. God knows how it's been faring in his absence. His best guess is that Jack has probably taken control temporarily which was good. He was going to leave, take a second to breathe then get right back into managing the hotel. There were so many things he planned to do once he got out. Pranks on guests, the ridiculous amount of overpricing he wished to get away with, the feeling of doing an MLG water bucket trick off the top floor... it was going to be a good time. Was supposed to, anyway. Despite everything, he has experienced happiness time and time again. He's had friends who cared and were willing to help him in their own ways. Sam had been on his side... he thinks. No, he's sure Sam has just been busy with all that was on his plate this week. He hopes so since he doesn't think he could stomach another realisation that he's placed his trust in the wrong person. Besides, Sam Nook was Sam's creation and why would he put the effort in to make something to assist Tommy if he didn't actually care at least a little bit? No, no, he feels Sam is genuinely good, he does. However, Sam's not coming. Even if he can hear the fight, the lava takes forever to drain and who knows where Sam was situated in this massive prison when he realised something was wrong. Even if Sam's attempting to stop this, there's not way he'll make it. Tommy wants to convince himself it's fine. It is not. If you're aware of them, there are a few spots around the human skull you can hit that will result in a fatal injury. And Dream, ever aware of what he's doing at any given moment, makes no attempt to avoid them for the final blow.

[slytherinliththorne]

Lith Thorne’s Profile

New Template by  @cursebreaker-lilith​​

~BASICS~

Name: Ailith Thorne Rosas.

Nicknames: Lith, Witchling.

Name Meaning: Idk man I don’t remember :b

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 16

Birthday: December 10

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Sexuality: Biromantic asexual

Ethnicity/Nationality:  Mexican

~APPEARANCE~

Body:

Height: 1.65

Build: Slim

Eyes: Golden

Hair: White

Skin: White

Misc:  She has a rune in her chest product of her curse. A small scar in her forehead from when she was little and fell, it’s almost unnoticeable.

Material Items:

Clothing: Hogwarts uniform mostly. Lith has almost no fashion sense, so she resorts to comfy hoodies, plain shirts and jeans. She also owns a few stylish and girly clothes, but won't use them unless necessary.

Accesories: An amethyst earing in later years, a necklace with a feather of Talbott’s and a teeth of Jacob.

In their school bag: Her sketchbook, pens, pencils and chalks, a deck of cards, her wand, a woven bracelet,  her amethyst charm that becomes an earring in later years.

Reference:

Face claim: None

Voice claim: None

~PERSONALITY~

Traits:

Positive:

Lucky: For some reason, Lith has super good luck for the most trivial things, like managing to get a cauldron just before Potions class starts because she forgot hers. She assumes it must be the universe’s compensation for cursing her.

Resourceful: To any problem she encounters, from a forgotten homework to escaping death, she will always have a set of solutions already elaborated in her mind. They might not always work as she wants, but they certainly save her ass.

Intelligent: She is a nerd and an overachiever. She enjoys learning and hyperfixates on a lot of interesting subjects during the course of her life.

Neutral:

Introverted: While she can handle big groups, Lith gets stressed out quickly. She prefers being on her own or with a few friends.

Daydreamer: Lith’s head is always on the clouds, she has whole worlds inside, but never actually gets to express them, not that she minds. She also has a very vivid imagination.

Negative:

Insecure: She gains more confidence as she grows older, but she will always doubt her abilities and her own worth.

Workaholic: No matter what she does, she has to give her best. That causes many sleepless nights and some eyebags once in a while.

No emotional intelligence: When it comes to matters of the heart, she has no clue how to proceed. She finds it difficult to read the mood of a room or identify when someone is feeling down. In the same way that she has a hard time figuring out her own emotions and naming them.

Description:

Something something I’ll write it later

Other:

Likes: Solitude, art, books, muggle trinkets, sweets, winter.

Dislikes: Blood supremacy, loud places, summer, heat.

MBTI: INTP

Alignment: Neutral Good

~HOGWARTS~

Hogwarts House: Slytherin.

OWL CLASSES:

Astronomy: E

Charms: O

DADA: E

Flying: A

Herbology: A

History of Magic: O

Potions: A

Transfiguration: E

OWL ELECTIVES:

Care of Magical Creatures: A

Apparition: O

Divination: A

NEWT CLASSES:

Charms: O

Transfiguration: A

History of Magic: E

Extracurriculars:

Art

Muggle art

Best Classes:

Charms: Lith was taught charms by Jacob since he began Hogwarts when he noticed his sister had a particular proficiency with them, so when Lith arrived she was a bit ahead of her peers and continued to hone her skills on more advanced charms on her own.

History of Magic: Lith has always been a History nerd and History of Magic was a class she enjoyed and easily excelled in. Not much because of the Professor but Rowan and the study groups they would organize.

Worst Classes:

Flying: When in her human form, she is terrified of heights and hates flying.

Herbology: Lith and plants is something that is just not meant to be.

Favorite Professors:

Silvanus Kettleburn: He is eccentric, he is encouraging and he cares not about the world except for his beloved magical creatures. Lith admires his dedication and appreciates a non conventional teacher like him.

Patricia Rakepick: While Lith never fully trusted the curse breaker, she would be lying if she said that she did not enjoy Rakepick’s classes. She was probably the best professor of DADA she ever had.

Least Favorite Professors:

Severus Snape: Despite being her Head of House, Lith never liked Snape. He could mean well and she would be grateful for that but please be at a minimum distance of 6 feet apart. His attitude was the opposite of encouraging and she hated it.

Madam Hooch: She is scary :(( please don’t yell at her for not knowing how to fly she doesn’t need a broom anyway ;-;.

Affiliations/Organizations:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Slytherin House

The House of Thorne

Circle of Khanna

The Werewolf Support Squad (with Jae, Talbott, Chiara and Rowan)

The Silver Coven (with Summer Charn and Catherine Stark)

Professions:

Freelance curse breaker.

Independent Rescuer.

Part-time artist and painter.

~MAGIC~

1st Wand:

Willow wood

10

Surprisingly swishy

Unicorn hair core

“Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.” (Pottermore.)

2nd Wand:

Macpalxochitl wood

113/4

Slightly Yielding

Huactli feather core

Disclaimer: this is my own lore.

Macpalxochitl, or the Devil’s Hand Tree, became a popular wood to make wands out of when the afrancesamiento of Mexico began. Old chroniclers would often refer to this tree as “worthy of any castle and palace”, so it was sought by wizards of high status. Nowadays it’s existence is very rare and only a few wandmakers are allowed to handle this tree. Wands of this wood tend to be stubborn, but they will remain loyal to their first owner. It is said that it’s better suited to healing magic, but that doesn’t mean it’s not able to turn to the Dark Arts.

The Huactli  is a strange eagle-like bird that feeds on snakes. Its peculiarity is that it’s is able to speak the language of men and predict their future. It is said that if you hear it laugh, it means good luck, but if it mutters sadly, it can translate in danger, sickness and death. Wands of this core make powerful spells, but are often unpredictable and difficult to tame. Their loyalty is easily gained and easily lost, though this may vary depending on the wood. 

Boggart 

Form: A big twisted grackle like humanoid with bright golden eyes.

Riddikulus: The grackle suddenly doing the chicken dance.

Amorentia

What they smell: Hot chocolate, books and oil painting (turpentine lmao).

What they smeel like to others: Mint, paint and parchment.

Patronus

Form: Jaguar (for Jacob), Eagle (after Talbott).

Memory: Family reunions on her Mother’s side of the family. All her cousins running around while the adults played cards.

What they see in the Mirror of Erised: Jacob and her, side by side, with the marks of their curse erased from their chests. As the years pass, more people are added into the picture behind them, like Chiara, Rowan, Talbott and Jae. After Rowan dies, their image takes Jacob’s place by Lith’s side.

~FAMILY~

Father: Daniel Thorne.Pureblood wizard.

Curly white hair (not due to the curse tho), white skin and golden eyes. Her dad is her greatest supporter, anything she wants to do he is right behind her cheering for her. He is a little bit eccentric but he loves to indulge his children's interests and spoil them. However, he is not available in the emotional department, he doesn’t know how to deal with those problems.

Mother:  Perla Rosas Villareal.

Muggle. Curly brown hair, brown skin and brown eyes. Her mom is strict but loving. Lith always seeks her for emotional support, she listens patiently and offers help only when asked. She is the one who makes her question things and they often get into arguments because of that.

Brother: Jacob Thorne Rosas

Half-blood wizard. The reason for all this mess. Curly silver hair, brown skin and golden eyes. An introverted and sweet guy, but very naive and trusting. The relationship between the Thorne siblings had always been good. Sure, they fought and argued, but they got along pretty well. After the Vaults, Lith became wary of her own brother, but when it all ended they began to reconstruct their relationship, though it will always be damaged.

Pets:

Onyx (Grackle): He is not exactly her pet, he is the other half of her soul aka her Companion.

Nox: A black cat that stayed back at home with her parents.

~FRIENDS~

Best friends:

Rowan Khanna

Chiara Lobosca

Jae Kim

Good friends:

Badeea Ali (they are art rivals but in a friendly way)

Charlie Weasley

Bill Weasley

Tulip Karasu

Friends:

Penny Haywood

Barnaby

Murphy

Andre

It’s Complicated:

Love Interests:

Talbott Winger (he is the only one I have a description for atm, the others are in another post if I remember correctly lol)

They met when Lith was trying to break her curse via the animagus potion, a thing that obviously didn’t work.

After the failure of the potion (of which Talbott is not aware), they began to notice they shared similar hiding spots, such as the Owlery, and started to acknowledge each other’s existence by simply saying hello.

Then Lith started to get closer again, asking him about the potion and being an animagus. He got suspicious and ended up discovering Chiara and Lith were trying to turn Jae into an animagus to accompany them during Chiara’s werewolf transformation.

He agreed to help them and became a member of the Werewolf Support Squad, a little bit against his will but he warmed up to them eventually.

They started to get close during those night escapades. They hung out more together (with the Squad) even after the full moons.  

Recovering Talbott’s necklace was the first time they got close one on one. It was also the moment they began to develop feelings for each other, even if they couldn’t name them yet.

They like being alone together, and started acting as a couple before they actually became one.

The moment Talbott realizes he has fallen for Lith is a morning after the full moon, when they are all in the Room of Requirement trying to get some sleep and the only thing he can look at is her.

For Lith it takes more time to realize her massive crush. It happened when Talbott fell asleep in the library while studying together. Tulip comes in and says something like “could you tell your boyfriend to wake up, Lith Thorne? We are having a House meeting soon.” Lith’s like “he is not my boyfriend tho??” and Tulip just answers “Really? Thought you were dating for months.” And leaves. That’s the moment when Lith looks at sleeping Talbott and omg he is cute and we certainly do look like a couple oh fuck.

Yet neither of them thinks the other is interested, so they continue like normal.

Until they stay behind in the Room of Requirement one time and they accidentally confess and bam guess they are a real couple now.

They graduate. Talbott gets his own place and works as an auror, Lith travels the world as a curse breaker. They meet sometimes and go on dates.

The year of Voldemort’s uprising, they have a fight and they both go their separate ways, though they never once mention breaking up.

They reunite in the Battle of Hogwarts, Talbott almost dies and they apologize to each other.

Lith moves in with Talbott after that and they marry and adopt two kittens.

Dormmates:

Merula Snyde

Ismelda Murk

Rowan Khanna

Doesn’t interact:

Merula Snyde

Ismelda Murk

Diego Caplan

Bea Haywood

Enemies:

Merula Snyde (formerly)

Patricia Rakepick

R

~STORY~

Childhood: 

Lith was born in a middle low class family in the Valley of Mexico, with a malediction in her blood. Her early childhood consisted of playing with the children in the same street and Jacob. Since insecurity was still not that high in the city, her mom would let them go out of the house on their own. They attended a public elementary school until Jacob received his letter. After that, Lith couldn’t bother with school anymore but was forced to attend. As she grew up, children started to distance themselves from her, all the neighbourhood thought it was suspicious that her brother had gone to a boarding school when they barely had the money to pay for all their expenses. It got worse when Jacob disappeared.

HOGWARTS:

1st Year: Befriends Rowan, Ben, Chiara and Penny. Makes enemies with Merula. Finds Ice Vault. The Werewolf Support Unit is formed by Chiara, Rowan and Lith.

2nd Year: Ben Cooper disappears. Befriends Bill Weasley. They enter another common room. They open the Ice Vault.

3rd Year: Befriends Tulip, Barnaby and Talbott. Tries the Animagus potion. Attempt to turn Jae into an animagus. The Werewolf Support Unit becomes the Werewolf Support Squad with new members Jae and Talbott. They open Fear Vault.

4th Year: Befriends Charlie Weasley. Patricia Rakepick arrives at Hogwarts. Sleepwalking curse. Open Forest Vault. Goes to the Celestial Ball with Rowan and on a “date” with Talbott.

5th Year: Befriends Jae Kim, Badeea Ali, Liz Tuttle and Diego Caplan. Detention in the kitchens. Beatrice Haywood is trapped in the portrait. Rakepick becomes the new DADA teacher. Lith realizes she has feelings for Talbott. They open the Portrait Vault.

6th Year: Ben goes dark. Lith and Talbott start to date. Rowan dies. Meets Ty Blackwood and finds out they are related. Circle of Khanna.

7th Year: Who tf knows?? :))

ADULTHOOD:

After graduation: Lith goes to become a cursebreaker, taking jobs others would not. She quickly gains a reputation among shady witches and wizards. She lives like this for a year, not having a stable place to stay and traveling from country to country carrying only her backpack. She grows tired of it and decides to drop it all. She goes back to Mexico and moves in with a few muggle roomies. She studies plastic arts at a university and graduates early. She goes back to England to return to her curse breaker activities when Voldemort comes back.

Order of the Phoenix / 2nd Wizarding War: Lith never joins the Order of the Phoenix. She becomes an independent Rescuer, working by herself or for third parties (the Order included) to rescue Undesirables and get them out of the country. She even crafter fake papers to get them out. She does get in contact with members of the Order sometimes, like Carewyn Cromwell, who is one of her main contacts within the Ministry. She fights in the Battle of Hogwarts and saves Talbott’s life after reuniting with him.

Post-War: She decides she has had enough adventures for a while and moves in with Talbott, who quits as an auror and becomes a poet. They get married in a small ceremony which basically was just signing the papers and getting dinner with friends afterwards. After Jacob dies and her nephew Icarus is left orphaned, she takes him in with Talbott and they all move in with Ty at his much bigger home. Lith returns to her curse breaking job to support the whole family, since she doesn’t want Ty to pay for all of their expenses. Charlie moves in too after dating Ty for a while, which was a surprise for all. And they all live together whoo.

Old Age & Death: After retiring definitely, Lith dedicates the rest of her life to art. She even sells some of her works. She paints until her hair starts to turn black and she grows feathers, she paints until her arms don’t obey her anymore. She dies on her bed, with her precious Companion resting on her chest, as they both merge together, accompanied by Talbott, Icarus and her loved ones.

MISC

When they were children, Jacob lost one of his fangs during a sudden transformation and a collision with the door. Lith keeps it as a necklace charm and gifted Jacob one of her own feathers. Because of this, she believes the first black quill is the one he carried as a necklace charm too.

Before they start dating, Lith gives Talbott one of her feathers, which he wears alongside her mother’s. Lith also wears one of his as a necklace, but when she grows older she turns it into an earring. This is one of the reasons why people believe they were already together.

Lith has a habit of drawing on her skin, which is why she sometimes has her legs covered in little doodles. She later starts drawing on her friends.

She hoards art supplies.

She is a gambling addict, so she will get intense during exploding snap games. She knows a lot of card games from her Mother’s side of the family, challenge her at your own risk.

She never learned how to drive.

She learned a bit of mexican magic from her cousins, who attended Aztlán (the mexican wizarding school) created by @tsikuri.

She definitely sings in the shower, but not during her Hogwarts years.

Her taste in music is broad, listening to almost anything except banda.

She has a sweet tooth and cannot stand spicy food, causing the teasing from her whole family, who all, as proud Mexicans, eat chili with everything.

After she graduates, her schedule shifts entirely. She wakes up at 2 pm and goes to sleep at 3 am.

Her love languages are physical touch, but she is too shy and hyper aware to actually approach people and touch them, and gifts.  

If you give her food, you will now be on her “Good human, Angel from Heaven :-:” list. 

Her wand core comes from a bird that can predict death and misfortune, this curiously can be linked to her manifestation of the curse.

Most people think her new wand is ugly, and she did too. But she had to carve it herself to obtain it from an old Mexican wandmaker. The form is also inspired in the flower from the wand wood tree.Lucky: For some reason, Lith has super good luck for the most trivial things, like managing to get a cauldron just before Potions class starts because she forgot hers. She assumes it must be the universe’s compensation for cursing her.

[iwritethat]

Bruce Wayne: Ladies Man

A/N: A bit of Batman because I don’t have enough on here.

>>>>——————————>

It was simply a side job, in Gotham such honest living was difficult to come by so when an old friend of the family offered you a waitress position at their bar you couldn't refuse whilst getting through school at 16. Who wouldn't want to earn some cash right? Surprisingly they upheld a few laws, like not letting you serve alcohol but if you remained then it would be something you'd learn among other things.

After 2 years, one interesting thing about the job was the vast variety of customers the bar attracted. You intermingled with the likes of Gotham royalty, both of upper class and the underground depending on the day and being a long term employee meant they remembered your name whether you liked it or not. Unfortunately, due to your uncanny ability to charm just about anyone, you were the pub favourite often requested to serve and the owner adhered to the requests of the wealthy for obvious reason - plus they tipped you generously.

Among these was young bachelor Bruce Wayne, you were on a first name basis with how often his friends came in clubbing. They weren't 21 but money and fake IDs do the talking. Although you cared not for their names, it was Bruce who seemed more mysterious and calculating than he'd ever let on.

Tonight he sat at the bar in contemplation, a member of his group snogging the face off of some lass rather lazily in your opinion.

"I'm surprised you aren't indulging in the same luxuries." You casually addressed your friend, sliding your platter onto the bar and leaning on it beside him gesturing to the aforementioned pair.

"I'm not great at charming women yet. The status does it all for me right now."

"You can't rely on that! You're Bruce Wayne, I expect you to be smooth and have me falling at your feet. What if there's a girl you really like who won't care for your status hm?" He raised a brow at your playful tone, but you'd captured his interest as you usually did unintentionally.

"I don't know, I haven't met one yet."

"Alright then we're going to prepare for that day so she'll be wanting more. C’mon, show me." You patted the bar for emphasis, smirking at his suddenly confused expression.

"Right here, now?"

"Dazzle me." Came your simple yet upbeat response as you gestured him to bring it.

"Okay fine. So uh... you come here often?" Bruce attempted rather awkwardly, leaning against the bar in a way he thought to be seductive as you remained unreadably silent.

"Pfffttt that's the best you've got?" You couldn't hold your laughter for long, head falling into your arms on the bar to stifle them.

"No - no! (Y/n) it's not that funny..." He hummed, lightly nudging your arm to regain your full attention.

"You're right, I just - it was so bad. You're so crap at flirting it hurts!"

"Oh? How would you do it then?" For someone so young, he was challenging and you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it.

You ran your hands through your hair, fingers gently grazing his arm with a gentle bite of your lip.

"Now now, we can't have you falling for a mere waitress now can we?"

"You're not just a waitress (Y/n)..." His gaze followed you around the bar as you now learnt over it with a courteous smirk.

"Right there - you watched me walk away, I already have you hooked right?"

"Wait - that didn't - you didn't use a pick up line or anything! How does that even count?" Bruce looked back and forth, stammering once coming to the realisation that you'd charmed him so easily whilst you leaned back to clean a glass.

"Look, chances are that pickup lines are only going to be laughed about and to break the ice anyway, after that you've just gotta be yourself. The people who are worth it will stick around." You gave a haphazard shrug with a genuine smile on your lips and you nodded to the billionaire across from you. It always caught him off guard, the amount of wisdom you held for someone only his age.

"Like you?"

"There are better people in the world than me Bruce Wayne."

—

The air was bitter as you stood outside the usually welcome doors of your workplace, ones that remained closed due to recent occurrences. You held the keys and deed between your fingers, fiddling due to the unfamiliar weight of newfound responsibility - the owner was always a mysterious man, striking resemblance to a character from Kingsman adorned with a British accent and designer suits. Even so his death came as a shock, his Will stating that his bar and all its contents be passed on to you even more baffling.

"The only thing you'll catch out here is a cold." A calm but witty voice commented, the man now standing beside you expecting your signature snark.

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard the news, and I thought you might like some company doing this. I know you could handle it but I'm here." Bruce casually answered, your friendship remained constant through the years even if surprising. It seemed you just couldn’t get rid of each other.

"Is it a nightclub? Pub? Restaurant? A combination of all that? Is that even legal? I can't run this place - I don't even know what the hell it is! And the customers - they’re... well, some of them are illegal..." You grimaced at your overwhelmed outburst, palm slipping from the door it once had the intention of opening.

"Hey, why don't you come over to the Manor? I've got the evening free and we can go through it all together, and I'll attempt to lighten you up as we go." You were carefully torn from the door, the millionaire holding your hands in his, the warmth a welcome comfort from the breeze of Gotham.

"The key word in there was 'attempt', wasn't it?" You met his concerned gaze now, tone holding expectant sarcasm despite remaining laced with defeat.

"It has been said that my brooding can get in the way." Bruce responded, hand rubbing the back of his neck out of what you assumed was embarrassment.

"Sounds fun, lead the way oh rich one." You released a half hearted chuckled as the male rolled his eyes, offering his arm to you. However, the foreign soft whisper that followed caught him off guard so much so that he almost made a spelling error on the email currently cancelling tonight’s scheduled meeting.

"And thanks Bruce... for everything."

You spent the night at the Manor, delving into your insecurities and Bruce aided in the business side of things where he could in aid of settling at least some of the worries you had. Afterwards you enjoyed one another’s company, catching up on the weeks events as well as the unfurling of his newest addition to the household over the fanciest champagne and 5* meal courtesy of Alfred who you’d convinced to dine with you also.

-

In a month or so with Bruce’s support you were able to apply your extensive knowledge of the business into running it as your predecessor had and since the regulars knew you already it made it much easier as profits rolled in rather substantially. Now you knew how the old manager could afford his luxury suits.

Tonight though, Bruce made an appearance looking rather despondent and almost exhausted which may not be so obvious to surrounding staff or those not close to him but of course, you were an exception.

Naturally, you leaned on the opposite side of the bar, promoting a weak smile after you’d asked what was bothering the man.

"A business deal didn't go quite how I expected, and it kept me up all night." Bruce summarised, strategically avoiding the details regarding Penguin.

"Then I believe you need some cheering up, I hope you don't have any plans because they are now cancelled~"

"The Manor is free, I can get some strawberrry champagne (Y/n) -"

"Nope, it's my turn. You're about to find out how us commoners spend our evenings."

Without another word you walked him to your spacious apartment which was only around the corner, the hefty bar profits kept it well furnished and your cupboards stocked - even so, you convinced the billionaire to lower his standards to order in which you paid for against his protest.

"I'm paying this time, you're the one whose had it rough recently so I'm treating you. That's what friends are for, besides this food is a little below your pay grade don't you think?" You laughed as you filtered through your movie collection before finding a perfect selection for the night.

"If you think that after adopting Dick that I haven't been subjected to takeout then you're sorely mistaken. I quite enjoy it actually." The billionaire replied rather smugly, slowly growing accustomed to the relaxing atmosphere you and your home radiated. Bruce, for once, felt oddly content.

The movie began and ended, the time filled with idle conversation of which grew deeper as the credits rolled and continued whilst you pottered in the kitchen. Moments later you emerged with a tray, Bruce opening his mouth and closing it being too taken aback to comment.

"I present to you, Chocolat de (L/n)." Came your dramatic voice, accent where necessary to add charm.

Bruce shot you an amused glance, carefully taking on of the two tall mugs from the tray you held - the hot chocolate topped with cream, marshmallows and a flake - very appealing to the eye and tastebuds. It was practically famous in your club.

"(Y/n)?! This is - incredible.”

“Why thank you, only the best for you right?”

He smiled at that, a genuine smile that he’d hoped expressed his immense gratitude right about now.

“That must be why I have you then.”

“Ah, now that is a smooth line. Being in my company has improved your skills huh?” You wittily countered, though Bruce only offered a hopeless yet content sigh.

Clearly they weren’t as effective as you believed.

-

Bruce seemed refreshed after leaving that night, he’d emphasised his regret of not being able to see you in person to thank you properly over the various texts you’d exchanged in the past week - although, as you were wiping down the counter after an early close you were not expecting the uncanny interruption.

An hallowing echo against the oak bar captured your attention, finding a sheepish bachelor at it’s origin.

"What's this?" You inquired as you picked up the item he’d placed down moments ago, inspecting it precariously.

"It's premium Raspberry Ripple White Hot Chocolate - I thought we could try it, together."

"How on Earth do you get as many women as you do with vague attempts like that hm?" An amused brow was raised in his direction, the action relaxing the millionaire more than he’d admit.

"I'm much smoother when I don't actually have genuine feelings for someone, as such I suppose you don't get the privilege of cliché pick up lines. So what do you say (Y/n)?” It was unorthodox yes, but judging by your quiet laugh he assumed it was the way you’d want it.

"You had me at 'Do you come here often?'"

-BONUS-

"You're saying that line worked." Bruce taunted from his place by the Manors kitchen island, you sipping your drink with a nonchalant argument.

"It did not. It was awful."

"I had this all semi planned from the beginning (Y/n)." He smugly replied, tone basking in the victory of the overly drawn out ‘plan’.

"Hah! I refuse to believe this is how you predicted things to go when we first became friends." It was possible but it had been years since you’d first met, he could not have suspected you’d ever end up together this far ahead.

"You're correct Miss (Y/n), Master Bruce spent the entire evening whining about how he'd embarrassed himself in front of you after your little competition and that it was near impossible to win your affections. A common occurrence whenever he visited your bar really..." The loyal butler unceremoniously intervened, pride radiating from his unwanted revelation as he entered the kitchen.

"Alfred." Bruce released a defeated groan as he had you wrapped around his finger for a second, something he’d wanted to relish in for a few seconds before Alfred had besotted you with the truth.

You however, were pleased with the information, winking at your partner with a gracious smirk befalling your lips.

"Knew it."

[dabistits]

To talk about Twice and villainy is to talk about class and criminality (I)

(Masterlist)

In contrast to the fantastical world that surrounds him, Bubaigawara Jin’s backstory, revealed in chapter 229, is completely unexceptional. Jin’s backstory is about class. Throughout this series, a sci fi fantasy where almost all the cast have superpowers, we are introduced to characters who’ve struggled with their Quirks, whether having one or not having one, whether having one that’s powerful or weak, whether they have Quirks that are stigmatized or not. Most of the series handles its sci fi prejudice in this way, by substituting real life characteristics like ethnicity (hero Ryukyu is of Ryukyuan ethnicity and from the colonized Ryukyu islands [source]), gender-based discrimination (including misogyny and transphobia), ability (Aoyama, Dabi, and other characters to a lesser degree have physical difficulties using their Quirks), and stigmatized physical traits (as several mutant characters mention being discriminated against) with Quirk conflicts. Ryukyu’s ethnicity, Rock Lock’s race, Magne’s transness, all the misogyny, and the real life disabilities of many characters who are missing limbs are given minimal or no attention, as these conflicts are replaced with Quirks-as-metaphor.

In this fantastical world, where we’ve supposedly left behind our prejudices about race and ethnicity, gender, disability, and so forth, and replaced them with prejudices about Quirks and Quirk compatibility, Horikoshi made the decision to make Jin’s backstory about class as we understand and live under it today. His backstory stands out as one that is utterly banal. Although Jin’s Quirk comes in later, it’s hardly the driving force of his struggle, because what he’s faced with is simply the unfeeling machinery of capitalism and the state apparatus. There’s no involvement from Quirks or Quirk society here; the world that starts Jin on his downward spiral is one that’s inextricable from our own, one that any of us (some more than others) are vulnerable to. That is to say, he didn’t become a criminal because he had an awesome Quirk that made him egotistical (or whatever people think criminals are motivated by), he became a criminal because his circumstances left him with few other ways to seek fulfillment, and possibly to survive. His Quirk was only a balm to the harm already inflicted on him by the economic realities of futuristic (and simultaneously contemporary) Japan.

A quick recap of Jin’s backstory from chapter 229: His parents, due to a villain attack, died when he was in an unspecified year in middle school (it seems ironic, and another example of BNHA’s cyclical events, that Jin himself eventually dies at the hands of a hero). At 16 years old, Jin was already working. He got into a traffic accident, although he was obeying the speed limit, and broke someone’s arm. His case was prosecuted and likely resulted in a record, but the officer in charge suggested that he may be able to “bounce back”; however, the person injured in the accident turned out to be one of his workplace’s clients, and the clients’ outrage resulted in his termination from his job. Eventually, isolated and lonely, Jin used his Quirk to become a villain, and it’s implied in the depicted panels that he mainly stole. An indeterminate amount of time after becoming a villain, Jin’s clones turned on one another, resulting in a bloodbath that traumatized Jin and resulted in split personalities. After this incident, he turned to Giran for help, who in turn introduced him to the League of Villains.

Systemic barriers

So why couldn’t Jin bounce back, as suggested by the officer? The reasons are many and diverse, not all of them stated in-text. I believe Jin’s specific circumstances merit some evidence from real-world Japan today, since there’s no statement nor implication that these things have changed in these respects, and because this is the frame of reference that Horikoshi and many of his readers are working with. In order to tap into the spirit of the work, it requires an examination of the circumstances and conditions under which the writers are creating, a recognition and acknowledgment of the social issues that may have shaped and influenced their outlooks. Thus, I think it’s important to contextualize Jin’s past not simply as a self-contained example of inequality in BNHA, but as a narrative that ties into the societal concerns of real-world Japan.

The alternative care system.

This describes the system of institutions and fostering that cares for children who are unable to live with their parents (whether it be due to circumstances like neglect and abuse, or because of the parents’ deaths). In 2014, nearly 90% of children in alternative care lived in residential facilities as opposed to with foster parents (which has its own issues); these rates are much higher than in other industrialized countries, which mostly rely on the foster care system. Residents of the residential facilities report strict rules, child abuse, and bullying. [source] Usually people age out at 18, or even earlier at 15 if they choose not to attend high school. Requests to extend alternative care until an individual reaches 20 are usually denied. [source]

The economic outlook for individuals aging out of alternative care is not optimistic. “Once individuals lose their access to staying in an institution, combined with low wages for menial entry-level jobs, many young people cannot stay on the same job that the institution helps them find when they leave institutional care. If they leave that first job, they struggle to find another[...] Those who start working straight after graduating from junior high school and are forced to leave their institutional care facility may be at a particularly high risk of becoming homeless.” [source]

What does this mean for Jin? Since his parents died when he was in middle school, it could have taken place any time between the ages of 12 to 15. Jin was already working at 16 years old, which according to our information means he dropped out of school and no longer has government-provided accommodations. Depending on when during that middle school time window his parents died, he could have possibly not even entered into the alternative care system at all, entailing that he started to work right after their passing. Either way, Jin most likely quit school and started to work to support himself at 15 years old, forgoing high school and college, taking responsibility for his own shelter, food, bills, clothing, and so on. At an age when the UA kids are just beginning the best times of their lives, making friends, staying in the school’s dormitories, Jin was literally trying to survive on his own.

Criminality. 

This is a bit harder to pin down, and there aren’t many English-language sources regarding criminal justice studies, and very little that thoroughly breaks down the process. For details that we might want to know about, such as arrests and convictions according to race, ethnicity, class, mental illness, etc., those are even more lacking (possibly also in part due to Japan’s low crime rate). I’ll do my best to sum up what I do have, and maybe someone can correct me on this. Anyways, starting from the basics:

The motorcycle accident that Jin was involved in, which injured another party, is a prosecutable crime punishable by up to seven years in prison or a fine of up to one million yen. [source] Just to cover all my bases, yes, at the time of the accident, Jin was indeed a minor under Japanese law (although within an age bracket where he theoretically could be assessed and/or tried as an adult), [source] [source] but we’re not sure if/to what degree that was taken into consideration. Either way, the outcome is that Jin likely ends up with a record, according to the officer (or possibly prosecutor) who’s speaking to him. From what I can make out, getting a record from a traffic accident with injury means he was charged and probably went through summary proceedings in the lowest court, [source] though I’m unsure how this whole process would work if his status as a juvenile was taken into account.

There are a few things to point out here:

Arrest and detention (which I’m assuming is the lead-up to that conversation with the officer) are notoriously lengthy and pretty rough. [source]

Prosecutors have significant discretion in what gets pushed through to see charges and what gets dropped. This is one of the reasons, possibly the main reason, for Japan’s 99% conviction rate—prosecutors usually only press charges in cases that can bring about conviction. They can even take into consideration someone’s age, character, circumstances, etc. when deciding whether to prosecute or not. [source]

During this process, when someone is hurt in an accident, there’s a pretty big deal made of apologizing and offering compensation to the harmed party. These actions are viewed favorably when it comes to case review and sentencing, while arguing over fault and general disagreeableness hurts the case. [source] [source]

(PS: The line “you’re to blame as well” makes sense in the Japanese legal system as a facet of comparative negligence.)

(PPS: Given the ongoing debates over juvenile justice—the likes of which inspired Battle Royale—I wonder if the rather harsh results of Jin’s first encounter with law enforcement are also meant to be read more deeply?) [source; cw for child murder in link]

At this point, we have the question of whether or not Jin’s possible record impacted his inability to “bounce back.” This was also pretty difficult to find information about, and the answer is... maybe. While criminal records are held by the police, and prospective employers cannot access them, this is usually sidestepped by asking applicants to provide information about their own criminal records on a CV template (whether or not people do, or can even legally lie about this, and whether or not they can choose not to answer without impacting their chances of getting hired is not information I was able to find). [source] A certain stigma towards convicted criminals does exist, despite the criminal justice system’s prioritization of reintegration over punishment, [source] though as for further information about whether a record impacts someone’s employability and quality of life doesn’t seem to have been studied. Real world Japan’s declining recidivism rate, though not declining as fast as first-time offenses, seems at least to suggest that even individuals with a record can successfully reintegrate into society, [source] hence the officer’s suggestion that Jin can “bounce back” is not totally bizarre, although it proves short-sighted.

These details illustrate the odds of what Jin is up against. They raise the question of why prosecution didn’t go differently, and they highlight the vulnerability of a parentless child up against the legal system. Jin, again, a 16-year-old (who also doesn’t appear to have legal counsel in the depicted panels), obviously argues his responsibility in the accident; furthermore, he’s unlikely to be able to fulfill the social graces required of a lenient case review. As a teenager who’s already working to support himself, without any family to lend a hand, he likely wouldn’t have been able to muster up the finances for compensation, medical expenses, property damage, etc. at a moment’s notice, and even in installments the payment probably would’ve been a strain. For example, the possible fine of one million yen is half the annual income of Japanese households which fell below the de-facto poverty line in 2008. [source] It seems plausible that his inability to see through the proper courtesies resulted in an unfavorable assessment, and a prosecution carried through to the end. We don’t know for sure how he was sentenced—judging by his return to work, it’s likely he didn’t do jail time—but even assuming a lenient sentence, this accident quickly catches up to him. With no one to fall back on, and no one to cut him some slack, a stumble quickly becomes a fall.

Employer-employee relations.

The relationship between an employer and employee is one rooted in a power dynamic, where one side controls the time, the wages, and often the health of the other. A job and its benefits are usually the deciding factors of someone’s quality of life, so employees will work overtime, work while ill, and suffer any number of abuses to keep their jobs. Overwork, and the resulting health problems from overwork are enough of a crisis in Japan they’ve been named karoshi—death from overwork. The effects range from general, stress-caused health problems, to heart failure and suicide; what gives rise to these conditions are a complex mix of work culture, company culture, and common hiring practices. Essentially, workers are encouraged to present a loyal face to their company, and because of the structure of the job market, changing jobs isn’t easy. [source] [source] These facets of work culture also contribute to power harassment, an issue that has received growing visibility in the past decade. In 2019, 37.5% of surveyed workers reported suffering power harassment, often from bosses, including receiving excessive demands, degrading treatment, invasions of privacy, and sometimes physical abuse. [source] [source] 

This drastically imbalanced relationship only receives a few panels in Jin’s backstory, but that’s all it takes to make the power dynamic clear. Within three panels, Jin’s boss assaults him, berates him, and takes away what he knows is the only source of income for a working-class 16-year-old with no family. An accident that happened is equated to an act of disloyalty because the wrong person was injured, which reflected poorly on the company Jin was working for; however, a double-standard exists. While Jin’s loyalty to the company is expected, there’s no reciprocal expectation for the company to care for the wellbeing of its own workers, instead prioritizing its image and its bottom-line. Employees can be fired at their boss’s whim, leaving the terminated party without an income nor benefits, looking at breaking into a job market that is intolerant of repeat job-seekers—even more so if the individual is someone without a lengthy employment history and without a higher education. This short interaction highlights the precarity of financial stability, where a termination from one job on one man’s authority can leave someone—even a kid—without any way of coming back and achieving a steady living.

[hirazuki]

Ooo I'm curious about your hot takes on the Inuyasha reboot after reading your tags 👀

Ahaha, where to start XD Idk if they are hot takes, but here are my thoughts in bullet point form for coherency, I couldn’t figure out how else to organize them. Under a cut, as usual, because it got lengthy... as usual :D

We are 13 episodes in, and I still have no idea wtf is going on or what the series is actually about. And yes, I’m aware that we didn’t know of Naraku’s existence or of the overarching plot until at least episode 16 of that series either and Inuyasha was still very episodic in nature at that early point too, but here’s the thing: Inuyasha did not build upon a pre-existing series. For better or for worse, Yashahime has certain expectations to live up to that the original anime didn’t, by virtue of its being a sequel. Unfair? Maybe, but tough; that’s what happens when you make a sequel. Additionally, despite us not knowing The Main Plot™ of Inuyasha until later, the basic framework for it was laid out clearly by... episode 2? I think? Find and collect the Shikon Jewel shards. Boom, done. Were there distractions or fillers? Sure, but you never got the sense that the characters simply up and forgot about the shards. Even in fillers, the shards often made some kind of appearance. With Yashahime, there’s like three potential storylines going on: 1. The most obvious: most of our main cast from the OG is missing; where are they? Apparently no one in-story cares! :D Inuyasha, who’s that lol. I’m all for a sequel focusing on the new generation with cameos of the old crew; after all, they already had their own series. But this is like... no one cares about them? No one talks about them? And the more characters go about not mentioning them, the stronger their absence is felt. Like, for instance, Kaede knows Moroha is InuKag’s daughter. Moroha grew up on her own, doesn’t know her parents. Kaede doesn’t mention them to Moroha, doesn’t even spare a passing thought about them for the audience’s benefit, Moroha doesn’t ask. Kagome’s family in the present day meet Moroha, recognize her as Kagome’s daughter and... say nothing??? Souta shows Towa Kagome and Inuyasha’s old photos, but doesn’t say a word to Moroha?! Like. It makes no sense. By people not even acknowledging their existence, it makes the fact that they are nowhere to be found even weirder. Also the new gen girls don’t care about their parents or finding out who they were/are... like, okay, it would maybe be in character for one or two of them, but all three don’t give a fuck??? 2. Kirinmaru/the rainbow pearls: Idk how familiar you are with the story, but similar deal with Naraku and the shards here. Kirinmaru is being set up as the villain, still a mysterious figure; our new gen trio is supposed to collect the rainbow pearls that... some of his henchmen have? Or he is after them? Or is that Riku? Unclear. ANYWAY the new gen girls often forget all about the pearls’ existence :D 3. Setsuna’s memories: Setsuna’s dreams have been stolen by the dream butterfly and they need to get them back, because without her dreams she has no memories and is unable to sleep. Cool! Finally a solid, easy-to-follow plot line! Except wait! Towa, who supposedly made it her goal to get Setsuna’s sleep back, forgets all about it! All the time! Like, none of them make an effort to look into this other than being like “oh yeah, know anything about the dream butterfly?” to random folks every now and then. The Inugang back in the day was putting some grad school level research towards their goals, just saying. It just feels like everything’s all wishy-washy and there’s nothing really solid tying the series together. People just remember shit exists when it’s convenient.

.

Character development is MIA. I’m not expecting ground-breaking char dev in 13 episodes (though I do know 12 episode series that were phenomenal in that regard), but like... I do expect the series to focus on building the dynamics between the main three characters. So far, the series is more focused on teasing the audience with glimpses and promises of the OG cast instead. The creators are using nostalgia and bait (esp of a certain pairing) to drive interest in the series, rather than developing the new characters as fully-fledged characters for their own sakes. 

.

Moroha is was the only thing I actually liked about the series. She is a little spitfire and you can somehow instantly see both Inuyasha and Kagome in her, while she also remains very uniquely herself; I have never seen such a successfully developed main pairing child in any series. She featured quite prominently in the first few episodes -- and unlike both her parents, she’s got a great memory and knowledge of lore -- where she balanced funny moments with badass fighting moments and being the token supernatural encyclopedia. It was great! And then... they’ve like... forgotten her. She’s been left behind so many times by the twins. She’s the butt of every joke. She’s become the type of comic relief that’s, well, insulting. More like a buffoon than anything else. And it’s basically all for the sake of giving the floor to Towa :/

.

Setsuna is okay. Not offensive, but unremarkable. She’s got her dad’s personality but like way toned down due to her different growing up circumstances, which is nice, but like... I feel she isn’t given any room to grow or breathe or anything. She’s also basically there as a device to enhance Towa’s development.

.

Towa... oy. I tried to like her, I really did, but she just doesn’t work for me. They set her up having a very Kurosaki Ichigo type deal with beating up bullies and getting into trouble at school and shit -- I’m fine with that. That’s cool. Esp if it’s linked to not feeling like she fits in bc she’s a hanyou? Awesome. Except once she travels back in time to the feudal era it’s all “Oh killing is bad you shouldn’t kill people” and “even though they attacked me I can’t possibly hurt them” and “you need to empathize and talk things out” and “friendship is magic” and shit. It feels like she had a personality transplant, it literally makes no sense. Her design is totally nonsensical too -- out of everyone at her school, she’s the only one dressed in a bright white suit? Do protags not wear the school uniform? Someone should tell Kagome lmao. She’s a pro at hand to hand, and she can absorb demons’ powers and fling them back at them like a personified Tessaiga, and she has a lightsaber sword, and she’s immune to miasma, and -- like... you get it. It’s too much. It’s way too OP for the type of universe that Inuyasha/Yashahime is set in. She’s hanyou for fuck’s sake; remember all the training Inuyasha had to go through? When he couldn’t lift his sword? When his sword attacked him? Sango, Miroku, Kagome, even Sesshomaru all had trouble with their weapons and had to work to become stronger. But Towa? Nope. Towa is straight out of the Yas Queen/Girl Boss manual, so she gets a free pass on everything.

.

UGH they are doing the VLD/bad writing thing where things happen (like, BIG THINGS) and none of the characters actually react to them. Or stuff happens and there are no consequences. No one ever talks about anything. It’s wild.

.

Everyone has amnesia!! :D People either don’t know or don’t remember anything or anyone. People who absolutely should know things all of a sudden magically don’t know them. Like, Kohaku -- traveled with an undead priestess, spent years in the company of demons, traveled with Sesshomaru... and yet had NO CLUE that Setsuna is Sesshomaru’s daughter or that she is hanyou, despite her living and working with his team of demon slayers all this time. Like... how, man. How. And Kaede! Don’t get me started. Since when does she perpetuate random demon-boogeyman type stories as facts? Demon children will kill each other in the nest so that only the strongest one will survive, therefore Setsuna must have killed Towa when they were infants. O_O What are they, sharks? Has she been hanging out with Kisame? Wtf?? And she’s speaking about Sess’s kids as though she doesn’t know him or anything about him, when she has had Rin under her roof all these years. It just makes. no. sense.

.

Things that happened in the original series are happening again now! Because that’s the best we’ve got, recycled plot elements wooo! No, but really, characters that died or things that were resolved in Inuyasha keep coming back. Why? What was the purpose of bringing back Kinka and Ginka? To have a foil for Towa and Setsuna as twins? Someone please tell Sunrise they can just create new characters. Like, it’s one thing to have call backs to the original or cameos, references, whatever. But like... this is entire (dead) characters and interactions.

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No one knows how long it’s been since the original series ended. Fans initially heard 20 years from promo material, then “over 15″ and “10 years since” in-series regarding two different events, and now in a future episode summary we’ve gotten 18 years since Hosenki II gave Inuyasha the black pearl. But like, which black pearl? Because the one in Inuyasha’s eye doesn’t exist anymore, but Hosenki II had told Inuyasha that it would take 100 years for him to produce one. So, are we retconning that or where the fuck did it come from? Also, this doesn’t help one bit, it just confuses things even more. Back to the point, though, we have no coherent timeline or real frame of reference whatsoever, and I’m betting it’s in large part to keep the mystery of who is Sesshomaru’s wife going, as it keeps Rin’s age very vague. Everything is vague and mysterious in Yashahime, to the point where no one knows what’s going on, in fandom or in-story even. It’s kinda like how too much plot twist/shock reveal ruins a story, too much mystery does the same. It’s insane that both shippers and antis of that ship can lay equal claim that the “18 years since” announcement works in their favor.

tl;dr: Idk man, Yashahime is a clusterfuck of a series. Even if the mother of Sess’s twins is either of the characters I ship him with, I will still not like the series. There’s no saving this writing. Every episode feels like this:

[kkulmoon]

SUGAR & SALT |”In the winter things brew”(1)

— pairings: a friend of a friend/ rich boy!kim taehyung x baker!reader (f) + park jimin x named OC & kim seokjin x named OC

(appearances by other idols, to be announced when appropriate)

— genre: angst (?), romance, smut (later chapters), slow burn, fluff (occasional)

— word count : 5,197 words

— warnings/content: enemies to lovers (?), slice of life, unrequited love, discrimination (later on), religion (writing about very lightly, so some may take offence), countryside-ish au,

— synopsis: You're a small town baker, whose business is on the line following questionable decisions made by your town's political board. You decide to take action in order to salvage your reputation as the town's favourite baker. 

What you didn't expect was to fight for your precious secular life that keeps being invaded by the best friend of the owner of your rivalling bakery, Taehyung. He also happens to be the one in charge of your lack sugar, due to a minor (depending on the point of view) mistake, though he's known as quite the conscientious count.

You're a baker.

A bad one, it seems. Even with Taehyung, Jimin, Seokjin and Ada, the finest products and tools at your disposal, you seem to cook up a disappointing dish. So whose fault is it really?

☁︎ next chapter ☁︎

☁︎ masterlist ☁︎

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You and your roommate, Ada, just arrived at the ski resort. Scraping sounds resound as you drag your luggages and clump them by your respective beds. It's now officially year seven of "Vacation for those with low earning reports", which meant visiting your local (almost) ski resort in Punniton for the seventh year in a row. The first one happened back in your first year of high school after you wanted to feel independent which lead you to meet your best friend, Ada, and planning what turned out to be the most unplanned trip of your life but you still made it. You managed to go and come back and that's what counted.

"Soooo I want to go and check the slopes but I know how you much you like your afternoon nap, so I'll leave you to it." Ada says riffling through her bag for her skiing pants.

You just hum in response, already liking the firmness of the mattress. Though it has been seven years in a row, going to the same resort every winter break, you still adopted your same mundane routine. You change into a cosy fit, and make your way to the lobby to take a look at the restaurant. While you did like skiing, you particularly liked food, so to you, bad food meant a bad vacation. You make a quick beeline for the pastry section and let your eyes get inspired by the plethora of new-age and classic pastries. One of the other reasons you visited the resort each year was to scout any new pastries that you could debut back at home, in the bakery. Punniton's ski resort was known for providing a variety of pastries for its international guests.

So yes, while you did go for skiing the first two years, the remaining five where simply to spark your creative juices in the kitchen, but that's something only you needed to know. Looking at the display had your mouth watering like a Pavlovian dog. One piece before your nap wouldn't hurt, right?

"Could I have a-" you say.

"Could I have a-" another voice echos beside you.

You turn to your side.

"Oh!" the more than familiar male exclaims.

"Woahhhh, Jimin?! like for real, THE Park Jimin!" You lunge at him, wrapping your arms around him.

You feel the vibrations from his chest as his laugh fills your ears. You take a step back, making a thorough examination of your more than dazzling former high school dance partner. You're happy to see that not much has changed, at least not on the outside but he seems to carry an even brighter aura around him.

"Hmmm yeah, it's just me," he says sporting his smug face, one that has had you cheesing ever since you met him for the first time in tenth grade.

His eyes soften and performer Jimin takes the backseat as he asks, "How have you been? It's been a hot minute."

You think back to your high school days and remember Park Jimin before he became Park Jimin. He would squeeze in dance practice before classes started. His weekends were spend in one room, the kind with mirrors and his eyes where always set, burning with passion to make it.  With your unassuming character you genuinely thought that someone so ambitious would end up corrupted. You couldn't have been more wrong. Jimin had made it, he was standing right in front of you and it felt like you just left dance practice back in high school and you were on your way to get a bite.

"Good, thanks! But I am feeling a lot better now," you can't help the smile that is plastered on your face, Jimin has always had that effect. "I am still working at the bakery..." you glance at him and you are happy to see that his interest hasn't flattered unlike others, "and I'm head chef now and get to choose what the bakery sells!"

"That's nice to hear Y/N," Jimin says taking an apprehensive look at Y/N.

While Y/N was never one to dream, she still had hopes and fantasies. Something she never knew that Jimin was aware of . Back in twelfth grade, before graduation, Jimin accidentally came across Y/N's recipe log for the bakery. Between the ending pages she had sketched a drawing for a shop sign, specifically a sign for a bakery , on it written "Sugar".

Jimin sighs, shakes his head and asks, "Anyways, to what do I owe the pleasure?" You simply smirk at him.

"No way! You are still doing that???" You nod. "With Ada?" You nod harder as your eyes crinkles.

"I don't know whether to find that sad or cute," Jimin says to which you swat his arm repeatedly as  you glare at him.

"Ohhh I see, just cause you became a big city dancer, now you're too good for our cheap breaks, uh?" You stare at him questioningly. Jimin is just about to answer as you raise your hand," Let me just remind you, Mister Park, that you were a part of this the first three years."

Jimin simply answers, "A very proud participant at that," and now it's your turn to look at him with soft eyes.

You look back at the cashier by the counter, " Could I have two slices of the Banoffee pie, please?" You and Jimin glance at each other .

Back when it was the three of you (Ada, Jimin and you), the first food you ate together at the resort was always Banoffee pie. This happened after you found out you all had a bit of an obsession with cream.

Jimin forcibly pays for the pies as you look for a place for the two of you. While Jimin goes to the bathroom and to fetch the cutlery, you sneak a message to Ada.

[17:15] guess who I just bumped into?

[17:16]  sweetie 💖really, you know I don't like guessing games ?

[17:17] you don't, expect when it comes to _______ ?

[17:18]  sweetie 💖To who?????

[17:19] you're no fun :(

[17.20]Here are some hints: dance, blonde, high school 👀?

[17:21]  sweetie 💖Haha, very funny 🖕🏻, but I told you I was over it, it has been like 4 years christ 🙄

[17.23] You known what, whatever 😑 first don't use the Lord's name in vain and second I'll cut to the chase, Jimin, the one who you have had a crush on for almost a decade / our high school friend is here... we're in the lounge area by the restaurant eating banoffee pie, so if you want to join in on an old tradition please do pass by, Miss "I'm in Denial" 😘

Jimin sits down across from you. You talk about his time in the big city, about getting to dance for a living. The more you talk about it the wider his smile gets and the brighter his aura shines. While your modest self can't comprehend the allure of such a lifestyle, you can understand Jimin, and what his dreams mean to him. That's enough for you to mimic his smile.

Just as you and Jimin are about to part ways, you see the familiar bounce of a black bone straight bob heading your way. As you are about to call out Ada's name, Jimin turns his head at the rustling sound of Ada's skiing pants. Now it's your turn to take the backseat. The atmosphere turns silent and calm. The closer Ada gets the stronger her deep breaths resound. You wonder if she is out of breath from seeing Jimin or from rushing to the restaurant to eat some pie. Her trailing eyes gives you the answer.

"Hey," Jimin cuts through the silent with a small wave and a comforting smile.

"Hey!" Ada responds in an overly cheery voice, black hair strands sticking to her forehead.

 I told you I wasn't lying," you snap your fingers motioning at Jimin standing by your side.

"I see..." she mumbles while fumbling with the straps of her skiing overalls.

"Are you guys just going to stand there like you don't know each other," you comment and they glare at you.

"What!? you make it seem like you hated each other... I mean the least you could do is like hug or something," you add pursing your lips.

Ada looks at you and her face flinches which means she is suppressing her "Really!?" face. You simply shake your head at her with widened eyes and try your best to suppress a smile.

Jimin takes the first step, contradicting his past behaviour. While Ada is looking for a way to reassure him that he doesn't have to do it and that you are just messing with them, Jimin takes another step, more than he has ever taken. Ada's past betrayals keep her rooted where she stands. Just like a bride, Jimin takes the last steps towards Ada, looks at her, smiles at her and finally sees her for the second time, except this may as well be the first. Ada's arms let go of her strap to smoothen her overall, because now Jimin is looking at her. They stare and end up smiling at each other. As cute at this is, you're growing impatient so you give Jimin a little push. As they engulf one another, it's finally time for all three of you to exhale in unison.

Jimin lets go of Ada to brush his hand through his hair while Ada moistens her lips. He reaches back for a bag beside his chair and extends it to Ada.

"I didn't know Y/N told you I was were. I was planning on giving it to you later. But you're here now so... yeah..."

Ada takes the bag, peaks inside with a nose scrunching smile.

"It's tradition, and traditions should be kept, right?" Jimin questions and Ada's smile flattens a bit.

She sighs and says, "Some traditions are meant to be broken." Ada stares right at Jimin, hoping this time around he understands her.

Inside the bag was a carefully packed slice of banoffee pie.

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A couple of days pass by. You and Ada hit the slopes everyday after your collective morning walks. The two of you soak up the festive spirit of the resort. Christmas is a week away, which means that work is slowly but steadily creeping  back into your conscience. But for now, you choose to appease yourself with copious amounts of  marshmallow filled hot chocolate and the resort's exquisite selection of pastries.

Today is no different, with your hot chocolate in one hand, you point eagerly at the Yule Log Cake that wasn't there yesterday. The cashier shakes her head at you while cutting into the cake. You sit by the table you and Jimin shared on your first day and indulge in the delicacy in front of you . You're in such as trans that you don't hear Ada creeping close to you.

"Wahhhh!" she screams as she shakes your shoulder. Your cutlery clings as it hits the floor and you involuntarily spit some hot chocolate onto the table. In your moment of distress Ada takes the opportunity to steal a bite of your cake. You put on your blank look and stare at her dumbfounded. She takes a short look at you, smiles and takes a seat across from you.

"Soooo... I know we didn't plan to do anything this afternoon but Jimin hit me up and said that there was a bus from here that would take us to the ice skating rink." She checks if you're doing fine now and resumes, "You know it would be just like our first trip, tradition and all."

"I thought you wanted to break traditions," you say and it comes out more harshly than you intended it to.

Ada rolls her eyes, "Yes, but I was only referring to some not all," and now it's your turn to roll your eyes at her.

"Anyways do you want to come or no?"

"No." you say and Ada ticks her head to the side surprised.

"Well, that doesn't matter, this is my payback for the Jimin stunt you pulled. Here's your ticket. If you don't show up I will expect a refund by the end of the day," she says slapping the ticket onto your right palm.

Ada stands up to leave, as she's walking you shout, " Don't act like you didn't like it," you scoff, how ungrateful can one actually be.

You take a look at the ticket and cringe at the greyish hue on your hands. The only downside of winter. You basically need to lotion up every three hours. You hurriedly devour the rest of your cake and rush to your room to change.

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Everyone is already seated on the bus when you arrive, panting  from your little 'run'. You take it as a sign to go easy with the cakes. Your eyes skim the seats, the bus is narrow and hot, and you feel both happy and betrayed when you see Ada sitting with Jimin near the back of the bus. You walk towards them sporting an exaggerated fake smile .

"Hey Y/N!" Jimin says while glancing between you and Ada, checking if the current situation is okay.

You nod reassuringly. To that Jimin points at a mop of wavy black hair infront of him.

"This is my friend Taehyung, he's staying with me at the resort." At that you and Taehyung glance at each to other and exchange courteous and straight smiles.

Taehyung is focused on typing on his phone and you aren't interested enough to reprimand him for using it in a phone free zone. To combat the everlasting presence of smartphones in our modern day to day life, Punniton's Ski Resort decided to place certain phone free zones. It seemed people liked the idea enough since no one has yet to complain. Taehyung however doesn't fit into people. This is something you would come to realize the more you got to know him.

You glance at Jimin with a questioning look and he makes a head motion towards the seat beside Taehyung. You keep bickering back and forth about where you should sit that Taehyung ends up stealing a quick glance at you, but this time he gives you an actual genuine smile, though there's still no teeth. Feeling rude and defeated, you sit yourself down next to him. You try your best to properly fit into the bus seat but your winter jacket, which is slightly too big because you couldn't afford the better model in your size, keeps getting in the way. Finally you give up and simply unzip the jacket.

You're in a phone free bus, in the mountains, so you wonder how the hell this Taehyung dude manages to get a reception, but at least he isn't bored like you. You know who else isn't bored? Ada and Jimin, or as you call them "Admin" because they have been affecting your mood for the past days, but right now is gotta be the worst instance of them all. It's all giggles and more giggles and small claps. All I get when I turn to my left is a man with a  handsome face and even better looking hands typing himself away. You wish you could at least have the window seat and busy yourself by looking at the landscape.

You nudge Taehyung a bit, surprisingly he instantly turns his head your way.

"Hmmm..." You start, "not to be rude or anything but would you mind if we exchanged seats," you point as his phone,      " since you're typing and I have nothing to do, I would just like to look outside."

Taehyung motions for you to get up with his hand. You step aside, he gets off his seat and you realise that he's at least a head taller than you. You waddle into the window seat and fix your jacket so that Taehyung has enough space to sit. As soon as he sits back down, he focuses his attention back on the typing. Not wanting to disturb him you mumble to yourself, "Thank you."

Ten minutes pass by and you're bored again. You look at Taehyung who has his head leaned back against the seat with his eyes closed. Now that you think about it, despite the endless scrolling and stalking you did on social media you've never seen Taehyung on any of Jimin's social media posts. But you also knew that his social media was more for business than for private reasons. Though you had never seen him before, he definitely looked like a big city boy. He wore classic muted colors, sleek clothing that looked brand new and actually fit him. Between you and Ada, you didn't really care about how you looked from a fashion standpoint, but even with her "low income report" Ada managed to look like she came from the big city.

You, on the other hand, were looking awfully shabby beside the other three individuals. Even if Taehyung himself didn't make you feel this way, just looking at him felt like an insult to your physical appearance. You felt like you were being scolded by your mom to fix your hair, your clothes, your everything, basically fix your entire self.

Now that you think about it, it has been a while since you talked to your mom, you make a mental note to message her when you get back to the resort. You turn around, kneeling on your seat to find out that Ada has dosed off and Jimin has voluntarily remained silent even when he can clearly see that you have no one to talk to. He looks up at you.

"By the way, my mom told me to say hi to you and congratulate you on your sold out show, like a while ago, but better late than never, right?" you say, trying to lift up the mood.

Jimin's eyes are moving around and he's chewing his pinky. He must be thinking about something. Yet he manages, in classic Jimin fashion, to give you his endearing eye smile.

"Well, tell her thank you and that I will come visit her soon."

You give him a shocked face, "Oh so that's how it works, all I need is to compliment you a little and then you will come visit."

You nod your head, "Uh, uh I see how it works."

Jimin glances at Ada before he looks back at you and says, "All you need to do is ask."

You give him a tight smile and sit back down on your seat.

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You wake up from the sudden rush of cold air you feel on your arm. Hastily, you turn you head towards where Taehyung should be, eyelids still dormant and hum softly.

"Errm... Y/N, we have arrived..." Taehyung says poking your arm.  

Still drowsy from sleep, you barely register the sound of Ada speaking in the back. You feel a hand touch your hair and instantly you're awake, ready to attack.

Taehyung furrows his brows at your reaction, clearly confused, but still glad that you're finally awake. You don't know Taehyung, so you decide not to punish him for touching your hair, but you do flip Ada off for giving him a green light. She responds by sticking her tongue out. The bus driver's voice echos through the intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at our stop, Lake Punniton. It's currently 14:13. You will be able to explore the forest and skate up until it's time for departure at 17:30. I would recommend that we gather back here at this same stop,10 minutes prior to the departure time. Anyways, I don't want to keep you waiting, so enjoy your time here. Once again, thank you for choosing Punniton's Ski Resort!"

Soon after his commentary, everyone rushes out of the bus. You step out of the bus and instantly want to get back in there. Your cheeks are tingling and your ears feel like they are practically boiling. Someone pulls you into a side hug as you see a flash go off in front of you. You're about to protest and say that you did not agree to appear in any promotional content for the resort, but you notice that behind the camera is Taehyung.

"I hope you don't mind me shooting you guys, it's not often that I get to take pictures of other people," Taehyung says waving his camera around. It's only now that your mind registers that this is your first time actively listening to his voice.

"Nahh, you don't have to worry. You can take as many pictures as you want so long you promise that we can get them as well," Ada chirps with a sense of new found positivity.

It's official, you think, the Jimin effect is now rooted back in place. While you're happy that Ada is opening up to Jimin once again, you're slightly uncomfortable because of the uncertain outcome of her trust in him. You don't have time to keep pondering on the issue as Jimin pulls the oversized sleeve of your jacket.

"C'mon, let's go!"

You retrieve your sleeve with a simple pull but keep walking towards the rink. Once there, Taehyung hands you a pair of skates and you thank him.

"You're welcome," he says sitting beside you on the bench. Now that he's speaking directly with you, and it is just the two of you, you pay close attention to the characteristics of his voice. Sleek, classically deep, calm and a tad bit emotionless. He sounds good. Not wanting to compliment him, even in your own head, you convince yourself that that is how people from the big city sound like.

Once you're done lacing up your skates, you motion to Taehyung that you're going for a little round. He nods while gesturing at his camera. You push off from the bench and let yourself glide over the frozen lake. The ice is a bit rough but you can't really complain, it's a lake not an actual skating rink. The only advantage to skating in a lake in comparison to a rink, is the unlimited space you get to roam. Obviously some places are blocked because of the unstable ice but there's still a vast part of the lake available. You skate straight for as long as you can while staring at the sky.

"Y/N!" Jimin shouts, "Come over here!"

Jimin and Ada are ahead of you. You pick up the speed only to fumble when attempting a snowplow stop. You inevitably fall on the ice.

"Karma." Ada utters under her breath.

You give her your best stank face while attempting to get yourself back up. You end up falling down again as you get a gush of snow on your face from Taehyung's perfect snowplow stop. You sigh defeated. Taehyung glances at you worryingly. He extends his clothed hand at you. You are mad but not mad enough to freeze your ass off on the ice, so you accept his help. With a strong grip Taehyung pulls you back up.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ma—"

"Yeah it's okay, as Ada said, karma," you cut him off pointing towards the benches by the frozen lake, "I am gonna go for a walk in the forest, just so I can, you know, clear my mind."

As you skate away, Taehyung makes an attempt to catch up to you in order to give you a better apology but Jimin holds him back and tells him, " Don't worry, it's not you, it's just because you come from the big city".

While Jimin isn't wrong, he isn't totally right either. Yes, you are not fond of him because he comes from the big city, though you are unaware of where he actually lives. You also find it hard to like him because you feel inferior to him. Unlike you, Taehyung actually carries a genuine sense of self-esteem and comfortability with oneself. He was never once, ever since meeting you and Ada, intimidated by your friendship with Jimin. He never showcased an ounce of uncertainty with regards to the activities you've shared so far. You, on the other hand, knew that both Ada and Jimin did not inform you about a forth addition to the trip because that would have been a sure way to keep you seated in the restaurant eating your afternoon and health away.

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Beep! Beep! Beep!

You reach for your phone to stop the timer. You were mad which meant you needed a walk. It had been a while since you had taken one of your timed anger walks. Though now that you have calmed down you realise you were more hurt than mad. Once again, walking blesses you with its magic. It has been twenty minutes, you don't know how far you have walked but your shoes are covered with a thick layer of powdery snow. Unexpectedly, a couple white spots show up on your jacket. You look up to find out that it has started to snow. You should probably head back to the skating area before you get lost.

Scrunching sounds fill the forest as you move forward back to the skating area. Now that you're calm, you know that there really isn't a reason for you to be mad at the situation. Yes, you wanted it to be like old times, just the three of you but that's not how things work. Not for you at least, they have never been how you wanted them. That's how you became so modest.

The area around your neck is white. The melting snow is trickling down inside of your jacket. Damn oversized jacket! You will need to buy an extra large scarf to survive this winter.

By the time you reach the ice skating area, your scarf is very moist, your eyelashes are white and your chin is wet. You sit by the bench  to search for Ada's bright red beanie. You had gifted it to her during last years's Secret Santa. Because of this, it was a red knitted beanie with a white motif of a dancer in the center. If she had known it was you, she would have blamed you for reminding her of him.

You can't seem to find the red beanie amongst the crowd. Click. Click. You snap your head to the side to find Taehyung's camera pointed at you. You stare into it. Click. You look away. Click. You stand up to walk away. Click.

Taehyung didn't know you so he could understand your initial dismissal of him. Plus, Jimin had warned him that you weren't very fond of city people but he still insisted that you were friendly. However, you weren't making it easy for him to approach you, let alone get to know you. So he decided to breakthrough in his own way, the one he felt the most comfortable about, by using his camera. Taehyung didn't only approach you to catch your attention but because the scenery, with you on the bench, a slight layer of snow still on top of  your tightly coiled ball of hair, would make a great picture.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Taehyung interjects before you manage to go too far.

Taehyung jogs to catch up with you.

"Where are the others?" you ask, hoping he will get the gist.

"They went for a walk," he says keeping it short, just how Jimin told him. "I stayed because I wanted to take some pictures of the scenery," he adds, lifting up his camera to prove his point.

You didn't ask but he still told you. Something you would find out later is that Taehyung often does or says things somebody asked him to.

Here's all you've gathered about Taehyung so far: nice (or at least seems like it), handsome, artistic, big city boy, stylish, confident and persistent. With of all of this, things aren't looking good for Taehyung with regards to the possibility of you befriending him. While Taehyung's profile was far from ideal, there was one big pro that could compensate for everything.

Heis, after all, friends with Jimin. That must mean something?

"How come you decided to follow Jimin here?"

Taehyung turns his head towards you, a smile tugging at his lips. "Nothing in particular honestly, I was free, Jimin offered, I accepted." Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. This is something Jimin would let you know. Things with Taehyung were often like this, meaning easy.

"That's nice, I guess..." You think you should add something to fill up the silence but there's nothing to be said, so you make shit up.

"Be honest. This must be a downgrade compared to what you are usually used to, right?"

Small ridges forn around Taehyungs nose and under his eyes. Oopps... really Y/N!? You couldn't get your discriminatory ego in check.

"I'm so so-" you start.

"No need to be. I mean, you're not totally wrong," he counters swaying his head side to side.

You turn to look at him, eyes wide. Taehyung looks back raising his eyebrows with a close mouthed smile that accentuates his bread cheeks.

"Ahhhh, how dare you, "you respond with an exaggerated scoff. Now, Taehyung eyes's crinkle and you snicker lightly.

Okay, maybe if you gave yourself some time and a healthy dose of welcoming energy, you and Taehyung could become more than just acquaintances. Not exactly friends but not strangers either.

"First of all, please do not post those pictures of me." You turn to stare at your shoes. "And secondly, I'm sorry for my behaviour, that is, my unwarranted bias towards you"

"No worries, it's all already forgotten." That's another thing Taehyung does a lot, forget on demand.

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You and Taehyung are seated at a table in the eating area by the bus top when you see Ada and Jimin walk towards you.

"Feeling better, Y/N?" Ada asks.

You dismiss her mocking tone. "Yes, I was until exactly 5 seconds ago." You turn to look at Taehyung and take a deep breath.

"Much better," you say.

"Uh oh, I see you have broken the barrier." Jimin smiles at the two of you. "That's great, in fact fantastic! It will make the journey back home sooo much easier," he says visibly relieved.

"What do you mean?" You look at Jimin questioningly.

"He didn't tell you?" he says, looking at you. Turning to Taehyung, "You didn't tell her?"

You wave your hands around.

"Taehyung lives in Warringham," Ada swiftly adds.

Before you have the time to interrogate Taehyung, he's flying off the seat frantically searching through his bag and his jacket.

"What is it?" you ask.

Taehyung doesn't answer. You look at Jimin and he shrugs.

Taehyungs is in frenzy mode for a good five minutes before he calms down. Though I doubt it's because he has solved the problem.

The driver calls for everyone to get back on board. You hurry inside before everyone gets in to get the best seats, the ones at the back.

Though you did not talk about it, you assume the same positions you had on the journey to the lake. It was as if you had gone back in time, experiencing déjà vu. Jimin and Ada are laughing except this time they are beside you, and Taehyung is frantically typing himself away. Only this time he looks worried.

Now that you're in the bus the barrier between you and Taehyung has rebuilt itself and you don't dare to ask him if everything is alright. This will happen a lot of times between you and Taehyung. A constant cycle: open, close, open, close, open and repeat.

You are all seated down in the bus, three best friends and a spontaneous add-on that currently look very distressed. Only you didn't know that the add on would end up making you similarly distressed, if not more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

— a/n: thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the first chapter ! Any sort of feedback is appreciated. I do tend to mix the reader’s POV with third person omniscient POV.

[emeraldspiral]

I honestly don’t get the insistence on trying to deny that Zim’s an adult. That was something I never questioned as a kid. I mean, it was obvious. He had a job and lived on his own. His species is just naturally short so it’s easier for him to blend in and gather entry-level intel by pretending to be a grade school child than it would be to pass himself off as like, a grad student. I never needed to deny this to ship ZADR when I was a kid. I knew the tone of the show didn’t allow for romance or sentimentality. It was never going to happen anyway, so there was no point trying to bend myself into a pretzel to make canon comply with my OoC wish fulfillment. I just enjoyed fanart and fic where Dib was aged up or Zim was aged down to whatever was appropriate for the content of the story. Nobody who was ever into ZADR was into it for the adult/child dynamic because that wasn’t the dynamic they had. Their whole rivalry is a joke based on the fact that a grown adult with decades of military training finds his equal in a child, partly because he’s such an immature idiot and partly because said child is one of the only humans with two brain-cells to rub together. Aside from the enemies to lovers appeal, what people like about ZADR is that Zim takes Dib as seriously as Dib takes himself. Dib may only be 12 years old, but he makes adult decisions every day to take responsibility for protecting the Earth and put his life at risk. He has way more agency than a kid his age normally would due to a lack of adult supervision and is way more self-reliant due to a lack of dependable adults or authority figures in his world. Adult humans may treat Dib like the child he is (sometimes), but Zim’s always regarded him as an equal. He’s always respected Dib as a threat and never thought twice about trusting Dib with major responsibilities like helping him defeat Ultra Peepi or Tak. The show gets away with this because it’s completely devoid of seriousness, sincerity, or sentimentality. But ZADR fics generally aren’t comedic like the show and even when they are, they still have to be a bit OoC and off-brand tone wise because you simply can’t write romance without at least a smidgen of seriousness, sincerity, or sentimentality. But if you’re going to take the characters and their psychology seriously as the foundation for a romance, it becomes harder to ignore the age-gap if you’re willing to acknowledge that it’s even there. Most writers and artists I remember growing up just dealt with it by aging Dib up or Zim down as needed and that was that. I don’t see why it should be any different today. You’re already making non-canon OoC content. You don’t need to lie to yourselves about Zim being 16 in “Irken years” or a child by his species standards (despite being given adult responsibilities and autonomy) to get around what Jhonen has said on the subject. Just block the galaxy brains who want to call you pedos for writing two characters as equals when they’re already treated as equals in the source material and don’t waste a second of your time trying to justify yourselves to them.

[allie1804-fan]

The Middle of the Road (Chapter 16)

Chapter 1,  2,  3,  4,  5,  6,  7,  8 , 9, 10, 11 , 12,  13  14 , 15

Warnings: None

September 2024 – Toronto Emily and Keanu flopped down on the bed in their room at the apartment they were renting in Toronto for the week of The Toronto International Film Festival. They had just arrived from LA and were travel weary. He had just had his 60th birthday and would be receiving a Tribute award at the festival, a great honour for any film maker but an especially treasured one for Keanu who had grown up in the city. He remembered when the festival used to take place in his neighbourhood of Yorkville in the late 70s so the whole event was very close to his heart.

The whole family had decamped from LA including their Nanny Maria which would enable them to attend the evening events as well as do some promotion.  Keanu had done voice work in a film being premiered there which had a U certificate so they would all attend the afternoon screening. They were taking a bit of a risk with Hannah but Emily or the nanny would be able to take her or Johnny out if either of them got unsettled.

 After they had rested up a bit, they all went out to a local Italian restaurant around the corner from the apartment and enjoyed a simple relatively quick meal before getting the babies back home to bed.  The next morning found Keanu and Emily enjoying some free time looking around his old haunts – he’d shown her his home in Yorkville, his elementary  school, ice hockey stadium, the Leah Poslun Theatre and the location of his first kiss!

 “Right there?”? Emily was pointing with an aghast expression on her face at a dingy alley behind a bike rack at the back of an old Walgreens store.

 “Yup – I know. I’ve got a bit classier in my old age I hope you agree.”

 “And what was her name?”

 “Angela”

 “Now THAT is a 70s name if ever I heard one. I guess at least your name is just totally unique and not linked to an era like some”

 “She was sweet – but not long lasting!”  Anyway, I think that is the complete high, and low, lights for you. We better get back and get  some lunch before this afternoon’s shenanigans”  He was referring to the premiere of his film which was an afternoon affair so kids could attend. Some local children would attend as well as press and the stars and their families. Johnny and Hannah would be there – with the exit strategy of mum or nanny if it was too much. They had watched films at home and had quite good attention spans but Hannah had only been in a movie theatre once and so was a bit if an unknown quantity behaviour wise.

It was also to be their first red carpet as a family. They had kept the children well shielded so far but, accepting that  complete privacy wasn’t realistic, they had decided to attend this premiere all together. They all dressed in smart casual clothes rather than the suits and ballgown style of Oscars and that was needed given they would have the kids next to them snacking on ice cream! The press and fans were enthralled with the kids, both dark haired and with big brown eyes strongly favouring Keanu but with the delicacy of Emily’s features. After letting her walk on wobbly legs for a little while, Keanu scooped Hannah up and carried her while Emily walked with Jonathan and Marie brought the buggy and a change bag just in case. Hannah loved waving at everyone and fans called her name which made her laugh. Johnny joined in with waving too, sensing that this was something special but not really at all clear what. It was going to be a while before they understood that their Dad wasn’t just special to them!

The kids enjoyed the film and made it through the whole hour and half without a melt down to everyone’s relief.

That evening Emily and Keanu appeared on a panel about a project they were working on together. There were inevitable questions about how husband and wife could work together which they fended off deftly  - working together was after-all how they met and it felt easy compared to parenting and they were glad to keep the topic work focussed.  In the next couple of days they each took part in other promo for their work and had a meal out, just the two of them.  There they talked about the award show that would be the following night.

                                                            “You nervous?” Emily asked as she sipped her coffee.

“Am I ever!” He groaned. “All that intention is intense – I’m used to parts of it – the red carpet, the photos, being filmed in the audience, even being on stage handing out awards or receiving a less significant gong but such focus, and a speech – phew, it’s crazy”

“It’s what you deserve honey, you know that inside don’t you”

 He shook his head,

 “It’s an honour, such an honour but, no,  I don’t know it – it just feels surreal”

 “Well just try to enjoy it if you can, hun – OK?, Want to run through the speech back at the apartment?”

 “Sure, that would be great to have a writer’s input”

 The award day came and they passed as much of it as they could focussing on the kids, taking them to one of the lakeside beaches for playtime and a picnic but eventually time came for the ‘dressing up game’  as Keanu called it. Both of them would spend a few hours being “made beautiful” for the cameras with stylists primping and polishing their hair, clothes and make up to within an inch of their lives. They left the children with Maria and they would tune in later to see Mommy and Daddy on the TV walking the red carpet.

Emily was wearing a stunning sleeveless, full length taffeta gown in red and her birthday necklace to match her ruby engagement ring and Keanu was in the tux he’d worn to the 2020 Oscars.  Emily’s palms were sweaty even before they left to go to the theatre. She’d attended public occasions before where there were paparazzi but only one awards show about 4 years ago so she was nervous of the attention, especially as the news of their marriage was still quite fresh.

As they climbed out of the car, Keanu whispered in her ear  “Just imagine everyone naked”  before they started to make their way up the red carpet, making her giggle and relax just a little.

“I feel like the wives in Apollo 13, if they ask me anything. I’ll just say “I’m proud, happy and thrilled”

“Are you likening me getting an award to going to the moon or a life-threatening mission?!”

“the former for you and maybe the latter for me!”

At first she held Keanu’s arm in a death grip but gradually she relaxed especially as she saw the smiling faces in the crowd and she saw Keanu relax too, signing photos, DVDs and books and posing for photos. Several fans encouraged her to pose alongside him, surprising her.  It seemed some people were happy to see him happy with his marriage and kids and thus welcomed her with open arms.

There were a few reporters on the red carpet who stopped them for a few words. Keanu made her laugh, though she tried to hold it in, when he responded to the question of how he was feeling to be receiving the Tribute Award.

“Well I’m proud, happy and thrilled” he said, giving Emily a wink which made the laughter bubble to the surface. They moved on and at last made it into the auditorium and were shown to their seats.

There were several other awards before his but at last it was time for his big moment.

The presentation started with a show reel with clips from his most famous movies as well as some of his lesser known early ones which made him blush. He leaned over and whispered to Emily

“At least they’re not showing the Coke and cornflakes ads!”

After the reel, there were some video clips from some of his directors and co-stars praising – his work, his character and his work ethic. There was Chad Stahelski, Sandy Bullock, Carrie-Ann Moss and Lilly Wachowski. Then it was time for the award  itself which Lana Wachowski presented. As he walked up to the stage, the whole auditorium stood, clapping and cheering. He was right, Emily thought, this was really overwhelming! She dabbed a tear away as he took his place at the podium and took a moment to let the applause fade.

“Firstly let me say a huge thank you for this great, great honour  - to receive this in the city where I spent my formative years is really very special so thank you.”

More applause erupted then quickly subsided allowing him to continue.

“I owe this award to many other people  - first and foremost,  I’d like to pay tribute to my mom for believing in me all those years ago when I asked her one day, would it be ok if I was an actor and  she simply said ‘whatever you want son’.

And thanks must also go of course to the teachers and directors at the schools where I did plays and at the Leah Posluns Theatre where I really began to learn my craft-  thank you for lighting the fire.

Looking back, the reel you showed just now only served to remind me how much I love movies. And a key reason over the years for that love and indeed for much of my success has been the joy of collaboration when making them. Collaboration with many wonderful directors, actors, cinematographers, stunt coordinators, make-up artists, caterers, runners to name but a few is what I thrive on. And they have all made me look good.  And I know sometimes I’ve made my fellow actors look good too by how bad I was! Special thanks to Winona and Gary in that regard!

And I can’t forget the writers, for one thing my wife would never forgive me if I didn’t give them a mention.”

Keanu looked over and caught Emily’s eye as she sat in the front row beaning with pride.

“Writers have gifted me some amazing, memorable characters, some of them coming back time and again  like Ted, Neo and John Wick.  And I think special thanks are due for all the Johns, Johnny’s and Jacks and the quarterback punks that have been a recurring theme for me and such fun to play.

So I love movies and I love the opportunity they give me to tell stories.

But this year, as I hit a big milestone birthday,  I am in a new phase in my life and I’m planning on being focussed less on the stories in films and more on my own story.  Over the years, my fellow actors and the crews have been like family to me, a band of brothers and sisters if you will.  But 5 years ago I met and fell in love with a wonderful woman and she became my family.  Then 2 years ago we became parents - and now there are 4 of us. And this year  I also became a husband - in all these things as you can probably tell I was a late starter!

So whilst I’m not retiring,  going forward I can’t and I don’t want to be the man who  is all work and no play.  I want to be with my beautiful  wife and my kids as they grow and play my part in guiding them in their lives, in their story.

And hopefully, I’ll bring the riches of that experience of being a parent and a husband to my future roles.

Thank you”

There was rapturous applause at this end to his speech and Emily found herself crying once again at his very public commitment to a more balanced life for them all going forward.

Keanu took his leave, heading back stage where there would be a few interviews to do before he could re-join Emily and head onto the after-party.  There was a brief break in proceedings and Emily made her way back stage to meet up with him.

Keanu was just taking his leave from one of the news teams  when he glimpsed Emily weaving her way between the throngs of stage hands, actors and publicists.

He headed in her direction and indicated a small alcove to the side to aim for. She reached it first and waited for him to join her, his progress being slowed by people stopping to congratulate him on his award and speech. When he finally got there, she threw he arms around his neck.

“That was, just, just”

“Wow  have I actually rendered you speechless?” he laughed.

“You didn’t share THAT part of the speech!”

“You mean the bit about marrying a wonderful woman and sharing my story with her?”

“yes that part, you sneaky devil, you made me cry”

“Happy tears I hope?”

“Yes!” she smiled planting a kiss on his smiling lips.

@penwieldingdreamer @fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithkeanu @ladyreapermc @witty-wallflower @gatsbynouvel @bitchyslut99 @keanureevesisbae @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @kindainlovewithkeanu @paperplanesandwallflowers

[ironfidus]

Every Fifteen Minutes (1)

Summary: 

“In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker,” the obituary reads. “2001 - 2017. Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony can't finish reading. He swears his heart stops. “FRIDAY,” he croaks.

He doesn’t have to finish the order; FRIDAY, as if reading his mind, activates his Iron Man suit and sends it to envelop his body. Tony is shooting through the skies before he even fully realizes it.

OR: Peter Parker was in a car crash—except... he wasn’t. One forgetful Spider-Kid, one sleepy best friend, and one misleading post on social media all lead to a disastrous turn of events, culminating in the arrival of an unexpected guest at Midtown High.

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty)

:::

Chapter 1: count the ways I let you down

Every fifteen minutes, someone dies from an alcohol-related collision.

:::

“The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them.”

—L.J. Smith

:::

“All right, class,” Roger Harrington calls out over the sound of murmuring students. He is standing impatiently at the front of the classroom, leaning back against his desk as he flips through a pile of pamphlets in his hands. “Settle down.”

The students either don’t hear him or are simply content with ignoring him, continuing to chatter amongst themselves.

Did Ms. Warren assign us any homework for tomorrow?

Oh my god, did you hear about Lucas and Brooke? Apparently they broke up—

Can you believe what she’s wearing—

“I said settle down!” Mr. Harrington barks, restraint snapping in half. His students descend into a hush immediately, scrambling to attention with more than a little annoyance. Truthfully, despite his show of impatience, Mr. Harrington can’t find it in himself to blame them: it is their last class of the day, their “advisory period” as it’s named on their schedule, and it is typically the one period in the week where they can simply sit back and relax with their friends. He himself is dismayed by the disruption to their regularly scheduled programming (read: their “chill time” as Jason calls it)—he’s tired of dealing with students 24/7, damnit, and he needs a break, so sue him—but Principal Morita personally approached him with instructions earlier in the day, and he can’t exactly disobey.

So like any good teacher, Mr. Harrington shoves down his exhaustion and schools his face into a mild smile. “A few weeks from now, we will be participating in an educational program known as Every Fifteen Minutes,” he announces. “It is designed to teach students the severe, life-changing consequences of drinking and driving.”

The students burst out into hushed whispers. No doubt they all remember this program from the previous year, though it will be their first time participating. Mr. Harrington sends them all a pointed look, and they dutifully quiet once more.

“Now, for today,” he continues once he has their undivided attention, “all of you will be using this period to choose one person in your class who you admire. I will be passing out blank sheets of paper shortly. As soon as you receive one, please write down the name of your chosen classmate, and a short paragraph detailing your reason for picking them.”

Betty Brant’s hand immediately shoots up. Mr. Harrington stifles a sigh, giving her a halfhearted nod that signals go on, and she promptly asks, “What does this exercise have to do with the program?”

Mr. Harrington’s smile grows strained. “You’ll find out why we’re doing this later on in the program,” he replies vaguely. Before anyone else can come up with any questions, Mr. Harrington says stiffly, “Let’s get started.”

He sets the pamphlets back down onto his desk—they’ll come in handy later—and picks up another pile of paper; this time, the blank sheets he promised earlier. He hands the pile to the student at the front of the class, and immediately retreats to his seat as his students begin passing out paper to each other.

His part done, Mr. Harrington happily returns to grading last week’s tests, blissfully tuning out his restless students as they go about their task.

Once everyone has a blank sheet of paper in front of them, the voices recede to a trickle once more as they all rack their brains for a name. Some students steal considering glances around the room, appraising their classmates in their minds.

Peter Parker, Midtown High’s awkward disaster by day and Queens’ beloved Spider-Man by night, doesn’t need to give it any thought. He plucks a pen from out of his pencil case and immediately begins writing about his best friend. 

Ned’s been my best friend since I was seven years old. I’d just transferred to Midtown after losing my parents, and as soon as I met him, he took me by the hand and invited me to play on the monkey bars with him. I wasn’t very good at it, but he kept inviting me anyway. It was the first time I smiled since my parents’ funeral. Since then, Ned has given me a thousand more reasons to smile. That is why I admire him: no matter what, Ned never loses hope or happiness. He always looks on the bright side, and…

Beside him, Ned is putting pen to paper just as easily, his choice coming naturally to him as well. He wishes he could write about Spider-Man—write about how his best friend is a real-life hero, how his best friend unhesitatingly puts his life at risk every night to fight crime, how his best friend swung into his room last night with a bleeding wound but also a blinding smile because there was this woman, Ned, and she needed my help, I couldn’t just do nothing!

But he knows Peter keeps his identity a secret for a reason, so Ned locks that desire away firmly. It’s not as if he can’t think of tons to write about, anyway, even with Spider-Man out of the question. After all, even before he discovered his best friend’s alter ego, he’s always known Peter is special. Because even before Spider-Man, Peter was already the strongest, most resilient, most selfless person Ned knew.

(Peter Parker was a hero long before Spider-Man was born.)

Peter’s had a difficult life. Time after time, life kicks him down and refuses to let him up. He lost his parents at such a young age, and then his uncle a few years later. But no matter what life throws at him, Peter always, always gets up. He never stops trying; he never stops fighting. I admire him because of his unyielding tenacity and his refusal to give in to life’s cruelties. Despite the hardships he’s faced, Peter is still the kindest, happiest person I know. He’s always willing to lend others a hand in whatever way he can…

:::

“Time’s up!” Mr. Harrington announces seconds before the bell rings. The students let out a quiet cheer as they drop their pens and gather their bags, and Mr. Harrington allows himself a small smile of his own. Still, he doesn’t let them run off quite yet. “I hope you’ve all finished writing your paragraphs,” he warns before they can rush out.

Their mumbled agreements make him roll his eyes. “All right, all right, I won’t keep you any longer,” he relents. “On your way out, please pick up one of these Every Fifteen Minutes pamphlets”—he taps the pile of pamphlets with his pen—“and make sure to read those over sometime during the next couple of weeks. That’ll be all, class.”

:::

The students had it easy, Mr. Harrington muses to himself as he shuffles through the papers with their choices. He, along with the other teachers, are required to stay after school hours and assess each student’s note to determine which of the kids should be selected to participate in the program as a “casualty.” 

Principal Morita advised them to choose a popular, well-liked kid to ensure that the effects of Every Fifteen Minutes are profound and widely-felt. If it’s a popular kid you want, Mr. Harrington thinks, the choice is obvious.

As if to confirm his thoughts, his eyes fall onto the note at the top of the pile and zero in on the name Flash Thompson. 

Eugene “Flash” Thompson, arguably one of the most popular students in his class due to his parents’ wealth and his own sophisticated attitude, has created a “following” for himself within the halls of Midtown High. His cronies tend to stick to Flash like glue, following their ringleader around like thoughtless ducks. But as popular as Flash is, Mr. Harrington feels reluctant to pick him. He doubts Flash fits the criteria of “well-liked” amongst the majority of his peers, despite his popularity. Flash is a bully of the “high school jackass” variety, and his snobbish attitude repels just as many people as it attracts, if not more.

Mr. Harrington shakes his head and tucks the note with Flash’s name under all of the other papers. He resigns himself to a long afternoon of sorting through the notes, keeping an eye out for any recurring not-Flash names. The faster he finishes, the sooner he’ll be able to go home.

Betty, Cindy, Charles, Flash again, Abe, Seymour, another Flash, Ned… Mr. Harrington perks up slightly. The note dedicated to Ned Leeds is noticeably longer than all the rest before it, and Mr. Harrington recognizes the handwriting as belonging to Peter Parker immediately.

Teachers aren’t supposed to have a favorite. That is the unspoken rule. But there is also an unspoken footnote to that unspoken rule that goes like this: Teachers might not be supposed to have a favorite, but they do anyway. As long as the students don’t know, well, it can’t hurt anyone.

Peter Parker is without a doubt Mr. Harrington’s star student. Friendly and polite to everyone, Peter is a beacon of light in his class, one that everyone—even those who resent him, like Flash—can recognize. Even without Peter’s conscious effort, his generosity and thoughtfulness draw his classmates to him like moths to a flame. 

Besides his obvious goodness, Peter is also achingly smart. Ridiculously so. He is intelligent and creative and brilliant—but he never brags about it. 

And sure, Peter has changed over the last few months, turning up to class later and later and sometimes even falling asleep in the middle of his lectures, but his grades never slack. Mr. Harrington can’t deny he’s worried about the boy. He’s heard all the rumors about Peter: he’s heard the other teachers discussing Peter’s sudden decision to resign from nearly all of his extracurriculars; he’s heard Coach Wilson muttering something about bruises and scars; he’s heard students in the hallway giggling over Flash’s proclamations that Peter is a liar pretending to intern for Stark Industries.

For the most part, Mr. Harrington lets the rumors flow in one ear and out the other. He doesn’t like judging his students or making assumptions, after all. But even he can’t ignore some of the signs. He sent Peter to the guidance counselor a few weeks ago after Peter fell asleep during Academic Decathlon and woke up screaming after everyone else went home, but the rest is out of Harrington’s hands. He isn’t allowed to pry, he knows that.

That doesn’t stop him from fretting, though.

He sighs and redirects his gaze to Peter’s note. Out of curiosity—wondering what kind of traits someone as pure as Peter Parker would admire—Mr. Harrington pushes his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose and reads the whole note.

…he never fails to make me laugh or smile. Ned is one of the best and brightest things in my life. I’m lucky to have him as my best friend. 

Mr. Harrington exhales softly, the breath rushing out with an awed sort of wonder. Peter’s note about Ned is heartfelt and sentimental, nothing like the snatches of she's cute and she always wears the most fashionable outfits or I think he's really smart he caught glimpses of from the other notes.

Setting aside Peter’s note about Ned for now, Mr. Harrington flicks through the rest of the notes until he finds Ned’s note—unsurprisingly for Peter. He pulls it out of the stack, smoothing it out on top of the other notes.

…and even though he’s had it hard, Peter never takes it out on anyone else. He embodies compassion with everything he does. I know I am grateful for him, always. 

Mr. Harrington will later swear, on his life, that he wasn’t affected by the notes. But here in the relative privacy of the empty classroom, as he bears witness to Peter and Ned’s mutual devotion to one another, his eyes begrudgingly start to burn.

These kids, he suppresses a groan, blinking rapidly. He is an adult, for god’s sake. He doesn’t get mushy over touching words anymore. They’re going to be the death of me.

It is undeniable, though, that the loss of either boy will leave a crippling impact on the other and the rest of the class. Even if no one else chose Ned or Peter, Mr. Harrington isn’t blind; he’s seen the two boys’ influence on their classmates. Sure, they can both be shy and quiet at times, reserved, but the two have become irrevocably entangled in the lives of their peers. Peter, for example, never fails to provide a spot of cheer during his classes with Mr. Harrington; more often than not, Peter would spend half the class maneuvering around the tables at his classmates’ behest, occasionally bending down to talk one of his peers through a difficult problem. Ned, too, is a bright presence in the classroom, never failing to coax his classmates into raucous laughter after one of his jokes.

One of the two will probably be the best bet for the program, Mr. Harrington decides. But which one? Peter or Ned?

Mr. Harrington groans, shooting the clock a backwards glance. 4 p.m., he acknowledges to himself. He’s already spent upwards of half an hour agonizing over this choice, and he just wants to go home.

Looking back at the stack, his eyes catch on to the note right below Ned’s. The name Flash Thompson peeks out, barely visible at the corner of the note. 

Slowly, a smile settles on Mr. Harrington’s face.

Again, Mr. Harrington isn’t blind. He’s long since been aware of Flash’s tendency to pick on (read: bully) Peter. Unfortunately, when Mr. Harrington went to Principal Morita with his concerns, Morita simply dismissed him without a second thought, citing the Thompsons’ excessive donations to the school as an excuse to let it go. At the time, Mr. Harrington merely gritted his teeth and gracefully bowed out of the principal’s office, resigned to keeping his silence despite the regret sinking in his stomach.

But now…

Mr. Harrington is just a teacher. There is nothing he can do on his own, not against a pair of wealthy parents or the principal. But there is nothing to say he can’t indirectly teach Flash a lesson.

This, this he can do.

Perhaps if Flash is forced to imagine walking down their school hallways without a hint of Peter Parker anywhere for the rest of his school days, he’ll realize Peter’s value and the faults of his actions. Perhaps if Flash sees how short and finite life is, he’ll see his wrongs.

Mr Harrington can only hope so, anyway.

:::

‘Every Fifteen Minutes’

“The Every 15 Minutes Program offers real-life experiences without the real-life risks. This emotionally charged program, entitled Every 15 Minutes, is an event designed to dramatically instill into teenagers the potentially dangerous consequences of drinking alcohol and texting while driving. This powerful program will challenge students to think about drinking, texting while driving, personal safety, and the responsibility of making mature decisions when lives are involved…”

:::

Three weeks later, the program truly begins. The principal makes sure to issue a warning beforehand to prevent any genuine panic from breaking out (the teachers learned that the hard way last year). With the reassurance that it isn’t real, many students see the two-day period scheduled for the program as a chance to take a break from their classes and unwind. 

They know what is going to happen. They know it will all be fake. No one is actually dying.

But sometimes, “knowing” doesn’t really equate to “understanding” or “believing,” and the subconscious tends to work in strange ways.

Despite the principal’s briefing, the students find themselves unprepared for the emotional upheaval that surges in them with each and every student’s "death". Every fifteen minutes, a participating deputy officer enters a different classroom and takes away one student. After the student’s removal, another police officer enters the classroom to read out a prepared obituary to the silence of the class. The obituary would be posted at the front of the classroom, and that would be that.

The chosen student wouldn’t return to classes for the rest of the day. Their notable absence from their usual routine is supposed to “simulate the feeling of loss that the other students would experience in the event of a real death,” or so the pamphlet claims. 

And it works.

Some students cry, loud and blubbering, as their friends are pulled out of the room. Others are silent, disquieted, as they try to imagine what it would be like if their classmate were really dead, immediately feeling dread and tragedy seep into them.

They’re only kids. Most of them have never even felt the effects of death before.

(They’re lucky. So, so lucky.)

Finally, an hour before classes break for lunch, an officer enters Mr. Harrington’s classroom. “Peter Parker,” he calls out, eyes flicking briefly to the card he’s holding. “Mr. Parker?” he repeats in the ensuing silence.

“I’m here,” Peter replies, a little surprised as he stands up, inwardly fighting to ignore the stares of his classmates. He didn’t expect to be chosen. He likes to be invisible, to stay in the background and blend in, and this is the complete opposite of “blending in.” 

“Mr. Parker,” the officer offers him a sympathetic smile. “Please gather your things. You won’t be returning today.”

The finality of the words you won’t be returning settles like a death knell in the classroom, and the hard edge is only barely softened by the comfort of today. Peter can already hear Betty, one of the most sensitive and empathetic of all his classmates, begin to sniffle.

Fighting the urge to glance back at Betty and reassure her, Peter nods politely at the officer. “Yes, sir,” he acknowledges with a respect that has been drilled into him by his aunt. He hurriedly shoves his pencil case and books into his bag and slings the backpack over one shoulder. He takes a moment to make sure his phone and his watch are both safe on his person –

Hold on. My watch. Peter’s eyes fixate on his wrist—his bare wrist—with growing horror. Where is it? Where did I leave it? 

Mr. Stark will kill him if he’s somehow managed to lose his multimillion dollar StarkWatch. Make sure to keep it on you at all times, you hear me, Parker? Tony had threatened upon gifting it to Peter one rainy day. It cost me a fortune—I promise it’s more expensive than you. Just kidding. Not really, but that doesn’t matter. Just – wear it always, please? It’ll monitor your vitals for me, so I’ll be able to check that you’re alive and not, I don’t know, bleeding out in an alleyway or something. I have heart problems, you know.

Shoot, shoot, shoot, Peter thinks now. How the heck am I going to explain this one? He’d sworn to Mr. Stark that he’d never take the watch off except to—

Oh. Oh.

(“KAREN, remind me to put my watch back on tomorrow morning, yeah?” Peter says aloud to his AI, attaching his StarkWatch to the charging case it came with. It’s the first time he’s had to charge it so far—he doesn’t know how its battery has been able to last this long, but somehow he’s not entirely surprised, given that it is Tony Stark’s creation—and he’s more than a little concerned that his forgetfulness and Parker Luck are going to rear their ugly heads at the same time.

“Of course, Peter,” KAREN hums in reply.)

Peter calms down and resists the urge to facepalm. Of course he’d ended up forgetting it at home, even after making a genuine effort to remember to wear it. He briefly wonders how he could have missed KAREN’s notification before shrugging it off. He’ll just put it back on tonight, before going on patrol. Tony had designed the watch with Spider-Man’s trouble-magnet tendencies in mind, after all; he’s pretty sure Peter Parker can live without it for one day.

God, he must really be out of it if he managed to go half a day without realizing the heavy watch—not literally heavy, because it’s a StarkWatch and Mr. Stark is nothing if not efficient, but metaphorically heavy with the weight of Mr. Stark’s expectations—is missing from his wrist. Peter feels a yawn building in his chest and thinks, yep, still out of it. Between a long patrol spanning from late night yesterday to the early hours of the morning today, and back-to-back science and math classes with droning teachers who refused to let him nap, today has been hell.

Peter raises a hand to his mouth and stifles a yawn. Maybe I can rest my eyes for a bit now that I’m being taken out of class, he thinks hopefully. Worries about his missing StarkWatch abated and fighting drowsiness, he dutifully follows the officer out of the classroom without another word.

Mere moments later, a different officer enters the room, false obituary in hand. She stands behind Mr. Harrington’s desk as if it is a podium, and recites solemnly, “Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver. He was born on the 10th of August, 2001 in Queens, New York City, to Mary and Richard Parker. Peter is survived by his aunt, May Parker, as well as his close friends Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones.”

Betty sniffles louder. His aunt, she keens in a hushed whisper to any who will listen. The only family he has left is his aunt. If he – if he were really dead, she’d be all alone—! 

Her best friend, Cindy, reaches out between their desks and grips Betty’s hand tightly, like an anchor, a lifeline.

“At the time of his death, he was enrolled at Midtown High, where he touched many lives with his generosity and passion for life,” the officer continues, moving on to the next part of the obituary. Even as she reads, she keeps one eye on the students, her heart twinging briefly; she isn’t a mother herself—she doesn’t have kids to call her own—but she’s had to face the devastated parents of child victims before. She’s had to face child victims, period. It’s never a pretty sight. “A member of Midtown High’s Academic Decathlon, he displayed an unparalleled knack for solving problems and thinking outside the box. Peter truly lived life to the fullest through chasing simple pleasures: chatting with friends and family, eating takeout with his aunt, and reviewing any and all sci-fi themed movies. Peter had an uncanny ability to reach people in a deep and positive way; he was bright and energetic, and he was known for his tendency to help others.”

She pauses, her words sinking into the room savagely, raking through the students like a claw.

A few more students have started to shake at the sound of her words, and the image they paint—a dark-skinned boy in the corner, blinking rapidly at the mention of Peter’s tendency to help others; an Asian girl with pin-straight hair, biting her lip at the allusion to Peter’s brilliance; another boy, squeezing his eyes shut and looking away at the memory of Peter’s enthusiastic personality.

She shakes her head to clear the hesitation and adds, trying to maintain a facade of ruthless indifference: “He will be deeply missed by his family, friends, and all who knew him.”

And that final sentence, punching into the stillness of the room, makes it all so real. 

The tension in the room crumbles, much like Betty Brant does in her seat, dissolving into breathless tears. Much like Abe Brown does, burying his face in his hands and refusing to look up. Much like Cindy Moon does, trembling minutely in her chair as she remembers Peter Parker, his smile twinkling brightly at her like the north star. 

The officer trails off at last, and the room is left in silence as she gathers her composure and posts the obituary at the front of the room. The obituary has been professionally forged, made to appear real and foreboding—indeed, the dark borderings of the paper, the official lettering, and the sharp, crisp black ink all drive a nail into the proverbial coffin.

Listen, the obituary seems to whisper at them, vicious. Pay attention. You could lose him. 

Without another word, the officer exits the room and flees the morose stares of the students. With the officer gone, all that is left is the obituary. There is no other sign that Peter Parker’s alleged death ever occurred, except on the faces of those he “left behind.”

And in the empty space where he would have been sitting, smiling, laughing.

(Already, they are feeling the effects of loss, their usually boisterous gossip never starting up. Normally, Mr. Harrington would be glad for the reprieve. But today, he looks at his students, sitting dazed and numb in the midst of Peter’s stark absence, and just sighs.)

(Amidst the haze of sorrow, amidst the uncertainty, Ned Leeds slumbers on in blissful ignorance, having missed the entire scene as well as the principal’s disclaimer. Ned doesn’t usually sleep during class, he swears; he always tries to pay attention out of respect for his teachers, if nothing else.

But today, he can’t muster the energy to feign awareness. He’s tired, the liveliness sucked out of his soul after an exhausting night spent hunched above his computer, splitting his attention between listening to the police radio chatter and prattling on about any reported incidents to his web-slinging best friend.

He loves being Peter’s guy in the chair. That fact is uncontested. And he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.

So Ned figures that if he has to miss a few hours of class to catch up on his much-needed sleep, then it’s worth it. What harm can it do, anyway? It’s not like he’s missing anything important.)

:::

It isn’t until the bell rings, calling for lunch time, that the students finally snap out of their stupor and Ned finally jerks awake. He yawns drowsily and blinks the sleep from his eyes, turning to Peter’s seat beside him. “Hey, Peter—”

Ned falls quiet, frowning in surprise when he doesn’t find Peter. Mumbling in confusion, he looks closer and realizes that Peter’s bags have disappeared, too. “What the—? Did he go to the cafeteria already?” he ponders aloud and tilts his head in confusion; he and Peter always get their lunch together. He can’t think of any reason why Peter wouldn’t have waited for him, especially since MJ is out sick today, leaving Peter with no one else to walk to the cafeteria with.

But where else would Peter be?

Finally, Ned just shrugs, figuring he can ferret out the why of it all later when he catches up to Peter in the lunch line. He gathers his bags in his hands and leaves the room, still puzzling over Peter’s disappearance. In his distraction, he completely misses the other students’ conversation about the very person he is seeking.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to get so emotional,” Cindy is saying to Betty. “It feels like Peter’s really gone.”

Betty nods rapidly. “I know! I mean, I guess that’s the point—to make us realize how serious this issue is. But it feels – weird, y’know? It’s not as if Peter speaks a lot normally—it isn’t any quieter now than it would be if he were still here—but he’s still an important, integral part of this class. I can’t imagine our class without him.”

“Pfft.” The derisive snort comes from Flash, who scrunches his nose at them as he overhears their murmurs. “We’re better off without that loser, anyway,” he says viciously, cuttingly.

“Wha— Flash!” Cindy scolds, straightening in her seat in anger. She was usually shy and timid, preferring to keep to herself, but her emotions run hot. Whenever she snaps, she does so with explosive force. “For once in your life, try not to be such an asshole,” she fumes. “You wouldn’t be saying that if he were really dead.”

Flash just harrumphs at that, turning up his nose with a sniff.

Cindy’s eyes glint with indignation. “Come on, Flash, stop—”

“Cindy,” Betty interjects with a pointed hum, resting a hand on her friend’s forearm. She shoots Cindy a significant look and herds the other girl to her feet. “Forget Flash. Let’s just go.”

“What?” Cindy blinks. “Betty, didn’t you hear what he said? How can you just—?”

“He isn’t worth it,” Betty shakes her head, the words cruel and dismissive, but the coldness of her gaze gentles when it sweeps past Flash again. She doesn’t say it now—doesn’t expose Flash—but she can’t forget what she saw earlier, as the officer was reading out Peter’s obituary: Flash, hunched in on himself in his corner seat, eyes downcast and red-rimmed. Flash is far more rattled by this program than he lets on, but if he wants to pretend to be a jerk to feel better about himself, Betty isn’t going to stop him.

They all have a lot to think about, after all, after today.

Cindy grumbles in annoyance, but begrudgingly follows Betty out of the room.

Flash waits until they’re both gone and he’s left alone in the sanctuary of the classroom before he lets the sneer fall from his face. Without his permission, his eyes automatically dart back to the obituary on the board. 

Goddamn Parker, he thinks, stomping down his guilt. He’s never bothered to make things right with Peter, never bothered to apologize and reach out and try, but… 

No. What am I thinking? Don’t be ridiculous, Flash. He’s not dead. He’s not. 

When he looks back up, grappling with anger at Peter and anger at himself, he realizes he’s subconsciously made his way to the front of the room, stopping only when he’s directly in front of the obituary.

He gazes at it critically. Peter looks... happy in the picture chosen for the obituary. Then again, Flash thinks, Parker is rarely ever not happy. The only times he’s ever seen Peter without a smile are – shit – when Flash is teasing him. Flash doesn’t even know why he does it, really.

Well, no, that isn’t true. He does know.

Somehow, some way, despite the background he comes from, Peter seems to have everything he wants. (Everything Flash wants.) 

Peter doesn’t come from money, Flash knows this—he knows this in the way Peter’s shoes never change even as they begin to fall apart, held together only by duct tape; he knows it in the way Peter goes through the same rotation of science pun t-shirts every once in a while; he knows it in the way Peter’s jeans still have the same stains from months ago, from when Flash shoved his lunch into his lap; he knows it in the way Ned always offers Peter half of his lunch everyday. 

Flash knows Peter’s aunt struggles to make ends meet.

And yet Peter is still so irritatingly cheerful, day after day. He has friends, too—real friends the likes of which Flash wouldn’t be able to recognize. Ned and MJ don’t stick by Peter because of his riches or his reputation, not like Flash’s friends do. 

And most of all, Peter is frustratingly intelligent. He has the Decathlon position Flash yearns for, he has the teachers’ favor (Flash sees the way Ms. Warren and Mr. Harrington smile whenever Peter raises his hand and blurts out the correct answer with record speed, even if Peter had noticeably barely been paying attention beforehand), he has the effortless straight-As.

He even has an aunt who loves him. On nights where Flash’s jealousy gets really, really ugly, Flash can’t help but think that Peter has more family than he does, despite his losses. Peter may have lost his parents and his uncle, but his aunt genuinely adores him, in ways Flash’s parents never have. The disparity has become obvious over the years: every time they have a Decathlon competition, Peter always has someone to cheer him on—a familiar vision of long brown hair and Go Peter Parker! banners and excited squeals—even though Flash has no doubt that May Parker is endlessly busy paying off the bills.

Flash’s parents are nowhere near as busy, and yet they have never once shown up to one of his competitions. And sure, he’s just an alternate, but he’s still part of the team. He wishes his parents could appreciate that.

So. Flash is jealous. He hates it, but – he doesn’t understand Peter. He doesn’t get what Peter has that he doesn’t; what makes Peter better than him. 

He can’t accept it.

(So he lashes out. He lashes out and lashes out and lashes out, using Peter’s shame and pain as a balm for his own wounds.

It doesn’t help, not really. But it makes him feel powerful. It gives him control, the sort of control he’s never had in his own home where his mother is always flitting in and out like a flighty butterfly attracted to shinier things and his father is always filling the silence with drunken shouts, and Flash can’t bring himself to stop.)

Malice and self-loathing burning within him in equal measure, the opposing sides of the same coin mingling until the lines are blurred and the two are indistinguishable, Flash pushes his guilt into a vault and locks it in, firmly. There’s no way I feel bad for Penis Parker, he tells himself sharply. He deserves it. Someone has to show him his place, after all. Besides, I have nothing to be sorry for. He’s not even dead. 

And so Flash does what he does best: he lashes out again. 

Without a word, he digs his phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick picture of the obituary, Peter’s name emblazoned prominently under his picture. He logs into his Twitter account and attaches the picture to a new post, thumbs flying rapidly across the keyboard as he types out a pithy caption with harsh, angry jabs. By the time the photo has been uploaded (accompanied by the acerbic words as if anyone would even miss parker, lol), his fingers are squeezing the phone so tightly it feels like it will leave a permanent dent in his skin.

(There’s no way Flash could have known the domino effect his actions would spark. He has no idea the disaster he’s courting by posting that obituary—and without any sort of disclaimer, no less. He doesn’t even spare a moment of thought for the possible ramifications of his post.

Truthfully, Flash isn’t thinking at all when he acts, the only thing driving him his contempt.)

:::

Tony Stark is in a board meeting when it happens. He’s barely paying attention as it is, leaning back slightly and scrolling through his phone beneath the table with the ease of someone who’s done so a thousand times before. He can sense Pepper glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, but no one else seems to notice his distracted state, so he ignores her palpable annoyance. He can just get FRIDAY to replay the highlights of the meeting for him later, anyway.

“Boss,” FRIDAY interrupts with a smooth whirr, startling the board members. “Protocol: On the Web has been triggered.”

Tony jerks upright as if yanked by a leash, nearly losing his grip on his phone in his shock. Protocol: On the Web was designed to screen the internet for any mention of Peter Parker’s name, or any emergence of his face. “Shit,” he curses under his breath, sliding his phone into his pocket and swiping his hand across the air to signal FRIDAY to open whatever had flagged her systems.

The board members are murmuring amongst themselves by now, and Pepper’s glare has darkened, but Tony doesn’t even notice, his heart thundering in his chest. If Peter’s secret identity has been endangered—

Tony blinks.

It’s a Twitter post.

With more than a little confusion and wariness, his eyes take in the caption first: as if anyone would even miss parker, lol. 

Tony’s gut churns at the callousness of the words, an intangible and unfathomable dread sinking its claws into his soul. He can’t quite understand why those words make his heart stutter in his chest, until—

Until he can.

There’s a picture of the kid above the heartless caption. Of his kid. Peter’s smiling up at him, curls as messy and unkempt as ever, freckles dusting his cheeks in a way that makes Tony want to squeeze. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are as wide and innocent as they always are, gleaming with the cheer of youth even from the other side of a screen. 

And beneath the picture: 

In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker. 

2001 - 2017.

And Tony’s heart stops. His world starts to fall apart at the seams.

He can’t think. Can’t breathe. He collapses into his seat like the air’s been punched out of him, like he’s a marionette and his strings have been cut. 

No. No no no—

Oh, god. Not him. He can’t be gone.

Please don’t take him away from me—

Blood roars in his ears, deafening him to all else as he stares blankly—uncomprehendingly—at the picture. Beyond the ringing in his ears, Tony can hear a broken, strangled wail—

It takes him a belated moment to realize the wail came from him. 

“Tony—” Pepper’s voice is muddled in his ears. 

Tony’s standing before he even realizes what he’s doing. He pushes his chair back, staggering away from the table of board members staring at him in confusion, as if Tony’s gone mad when Tony’s pretty sure they’re the ones who are insane, to act as if the world is still spinning, as if anything else matters. “I have to – I have to go—” he chokes out, fumbling with his wristwatch until the Iron Man suit starts assembling around his body in a familiar process that does nothing to ground him. “Pep—”

He turns to her in a panic, but he doesn’t have to worry: she’s already nodding in understanding and agreement as she leans in to see FRIDAY’s alert, her face pale and ashen, one hand clapped over her mouth as if to stifle a cry. 

(Pepper has always loved Peter.)

“Go,” is all she says, but he’s never heard her voice like that before: like her reality is collapsing all around her and she’s helpless to keep it together.

(Maybe he’s the one who’s helpless.)

A few board members startle, exclaiming in protest.

Tony turns, ready to yell at them until they understand that his world’s just stopped, can’t they see, but Pepper is already on it. “Family emergency,” she says, hoarse.

And any other time, Tony would have flushed and immediately tried to deny the implications of him and Peter being “family” with a stammer, all the while feeling warm that Pepper recognized them as so.

(Why did he always deny it? Why did he never just tell Peter how he felt?

Now, he’s lost the chance to. Peter will never know how much he loved him, how much he still loves him, because nothing can take this from Tony—

Peter will never realize.) 

But this isn’t any other time, because Peter is—

Tony grits his teeth. He can’t finish the thought.

Instead, he angles himself towards the window and shoots off the ground, crashing through glass and soaring through the air with one destination in mind: “FRI,” he says, voice wrecked and unrecognizable even to his own ears, “plot a course to Midtown High.”

(Because god, it’s midday on an ordinary, unremarkable Thursday and Peter is supposed to be in school. He’s supposed to be safe.)

:::

The first thing he does is order—implore—FRIDAY to call Peter, the command hoarse and shaky in his voice. Terrified.

The phone rings once—

“Please,” Tony mouths, the plea loud and deafening in the cavern of his mind. It’s all he can hear, but no sound leaves him. He’s breathless, the air stolen from his lungs, and he doesn’t know how to return himself to solid ground. “Please. Please please please pick up.”

He’s never felt like this before, like the fate of his entire world hinges on one thing, one person, one phone call—

—Twice—

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, almost like he’s too afraid to face reality, to watch the moment of its inevitable collapse. To watch the foundations of his universe crumble to ashes, just like—

No. He can’t be. 

—It rings a third time—

A few days ago—mere days—Peter had sent Tony a flurry of memes, all punctuated by at least half a dozen exclamation marks and emojified laughter. Tony had indulgently gone through each meme, snorted a couple times, and then restrained himself to sending back one eye-roll and a disapproving don’t use your phone in class, kid. 

Peter had sent back an eye-roll of his own. 

At the time, Tony could never have imagined this—could never have imagined losing Peter. If he could have envisioned this, could have foreseen the unadulterated terror gripping his heart, he would never have told Peter to stop texting in class. He would have maybe sent a laughing emoji of his own and encouraged his rebellious use of his phone during school hours.

Maybe then, Peter would pick up now. Wouldn’t leave Tony hanging in the worst moment of his life.

But he can’t take back the text he’d sent, the reproving don’t use your phone, and now Tony’s helpless to do anything but hope against hope that—

—Ring—

Tony swallows. Don’t ignore me, he wants to yell, even though the call hasn’t connected and Peter can’t hear him. You’re not supposed to ignore me. You have to pick up—I need you to pick up—

I need you, period—

Please.

—his pleas go unheard, and the phone rings again—

The phone clicks.

“Hey!” 

Tony’s heart lurches to his throat, hope soaring—

“It’s Peter here!” A familiar, shy giggle erupts on the other end of the line—the same giggle that typically sends a burst of warmth blooming across Tony’s chest. “Sorry I missed your call.”

Tony inhales sharply, finally recognizing Peter’s familiar voicemail greeting for what it is. Peter’s voice giggles again, but this time, it brings him no joy, no contented bliss; this time, it sends his heart crashing to the ground, hope withering like unprotected primroses in the blistering desert heat.

“Please leave a message at the beep. Or, you know, just send me a text like normal people. Unless this is Mr. Stark, in which case feel free to keep calling and prove your senior status.”

Normally, Peter’s voicemail message brings an amused smile to his lips, exasperation and fondness swelling within his chest in equal measure. Peter, he’d chide, how many times do I have to tell you to change your voicemail? I’m not ancient. I’m efficient. 

Today, Peter’s teasing voice makes him choke on air, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Instead of affection, it is dread that pools inside him; he takes several deep breaths, trying hard to contain the fear, but as the phone beeps tauntingly, a vision of Peter flashes across his mind. He can almost imagine the wide, shit-eating grin that took over Peter’s face when he first recorded the voicemail greeting, lounging lazily on a hammock of webs hanging from his ceiling.

His tentative self-control shatters under the weight of that image, and his dread surges and spills over the edges, breaking through the dam that is his restraint.

“Peter,” he croaks, teetering on the edge of a cliff. Salvation on one side, damnation on the other. “Peter, where – where are you? You have to… you have to call me back when you get this. Please. I—please.”

The phone beeps again, mute in his ears, and Tony is empty. He has nothing left to give, nothing but fear and uncertainty and desperation and—

A dying hope. Please. 

Silence. There’s no one to answer his calls, to reassure him and comfort him.

Tony falls and falls and falls. He watched the sharp, jagged rocks rush up to meet him, lets the tempestuous waves swallow him whole. There is no salvation here.

:::

It isn’t until he is only a few minutes away from Midtown High that Tony finally musters the courage to order FRIDAY to reopen the post. He doesn’t want to see it—he doesn't want to face it, Peter’s death—but he needs to know.

“Boss, are you sure?” FRIDAY asks, hesitant. Sometimes, Tony can’t help but think that she knows him better than he knows himself.

This time, he blunders on, ignoring her unspoken note of caution. “Do it, FRI,” he snaps, breathless, steeling himself for the worst.

After a beat, the picture pops up in his visor.

Tony bites his lip and lets his eyes drink in the words:

“Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony’s heart stops all over again. He can’t see beyond those words—see beyond 16 and died and car crash and drunk driver.

“No,” he says, and it comes out as a broken moan. “No.” 

(Tony prepared for the worst, but this—

Nothing could have prepared him for this.)

Please, no.

A drunk driver. Drunk.

Ever the masochist, Tony can’t help but flash back to years into the past, his past, filled with an endless stream of alcohol and an equally endless line of reckless actions. Tony had been stupid as a teenager. Young and wild and dumb. 

What if he never stopped? What if he never put down the bottle?

What if it was him who killed Peter?

He’d never forgive himself.

(He already can’t forgive himself.)

Tony sucks in a harsh breath that scrapes against the inner walls of his throat like the serrated edge of a knife. A long, long time ago, the men in his life liked to say: Stark men are made of iron. 

Well, if Tony were made of iron, then he is bending and twisting, caving in on himself, turning brittle and cracking and shattering beneath the vicious, unforgiving hammer that is the words drunk driver staring mercilessly back at him. 

Tony closes his eyes and wills the obituary away with a whispered command; he’s seen enough. FRIDAY wordlessly obeys, for once quiet and unresponsive in the suit, lacking her usual sarcastic gibes. If he doesn’t know any better, he’d say she’s in mourning.

Tony mourns. He mourns Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, in the wake of the words car crash and drunk driver stampeding through his mind like a broken record. He mourns Peter’s awkward rambles and giggling laughter, Peter’s childish innocence and overeager attitude, Peter’s earnest eyes and beaming grins, so blinding in their brilliance that not even the sun can hold a candle to them—or to Peter’s radiance.

He wishes he could see Peter smile one more time. He’s always loved Peter’s smiles.

But he can’t. Now, stranded here in a world that has let him down in the worst possible way, all he’s left with are memories, memories that have been tainted by an unfeeling report and car crash… drunk driver. An accident.

An accident.

God, it was an accident. Just an accident. How strange—laughable even, in a sick, twisted way—that being Spider-Man hadn’t killed the kid (his kid, Tony thinks of him as his), but that a car had.

How strange, Tony thinks, that after years and years of torment and heartbreak, after wilting under his father’s cruel (loveless) gaze and Stane’s betrayal (a betrayal years in the making) and Steve’s deception (his eyes void of recognition and warmth, his lips downturned, his voice silent as he turns away from Tony Stark for the last time and walks out of his life), it is this that breaks the great Tony Stark.

Except it isn’t strange at all. It isn’t strange when Tony lets himself dwell on Peter and the exact curve of his smile—shy and sweet and true—the sound of his high-pitched laughter (you sound constipated, Tony mocks, like a beached whale, and Peter shoves him away with yet another constipated laugh), the way he’d tuck himself into the loop of Tony’s arm when he’s feeling anxious, his eager demeanor and unashamed declarations of you’ve always been my hero, Mr. Stark. On the exact shade of Peter’s eyes—a warm hazelnut brown, like a mug of hot chocolate by the fireplace amidst the winter storm—on the shape of his birthmark, on the nervous stammer that often befalls him.

On his kindness and his thoughtfulness and the way he lives and loves and laughs without fear. On the light that shines so effortlessly from within him, threatening to blind Tony with its virtuous incandescence.

If he weren’t Iron Man, if FRIDAY weren’t keeping him safe and engulfed within his nitinol confines, Tony doesn’t think he’d be able to keep himself upright. 

(If FRIDAY didn’t auto-lock the suit whenever he’s in it, Tony would gladly let himself fall.)

(Funny how Tony planned for nearly every eventuality. 

Keyword: nearly. 

He built Peter’s suit to be strong enough to withstand anything. He built the suit to protect the kid—just a kid—from Captain America himself, from alien weapons, from hundred-feet falls, from even the relentless cold. 

He’s never once imagined he’d have to protect Peter from a drunk driver. And, well—

And if you died, I feel like that’s on me.)

:::

(In the end, it takes less than half an hour to fly to Midtown High in the Iron Man suit.

It’s twenty minutes of flight.

It’s an eternity of torture.)

:::

Tony Stark has always known three things for certain:

One: Howard Stark is an asshole.

Two: He will never be able to repent for all the deaths his weapons have caused. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how many more people he saves, it will never be enough to erase his sins or wash the blood from his hands.

And three: If Peter Parker were to die, a part of Tony would die with him.

:::

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3