#at least solitaire was spared

[feybride]

Did you guys know i am into WH40k? Have some memes.

[afinestoutlove]

things i love about heartstopper 13/?

Jane Spring. Hoo boy I have Feelings about Jane Spring. This is going to cross over a bit with my post about Julio, so sorry but also I’m not sorry.

Jane’s relationship with Charlie reminds me so much of my mother and me. When I was a teenager (6 million years ago), my mother was also strict, quick to anger, had high expectations, and had no way to understand what it was like for her struggling teenager (unrecognised autism and queerness ftw). But she also really, truly loved her kids and wanted to do right by them. She just didn’t know how, and that's how I read Jane. For a different kid, maybe Jane would have been an okay mum, but no one gave her the tools to be a parent to this kid - the sensitive, queer, mentally ill one, who struggled to get along in this world. No one gave her the tools to parent Tori either, and that's tragic in a whole different way. Jane's parents had hurt her in ways she was trying not to replicate, but she hasn't fully healed from it and it comes out in her parenting.

It's also true that, while Julio is gentle and kind, he also leaves Jane to bear the brunt of their kids' anger and resentment. She's the one making the decisions and he allows that dynamic. It's not that he can't - they clearly don't have an abusive dynamic or anything - he chooses to stay out of it. Julio gets to be the "good guy" (and he is, a lot of the time, but...), while Jane is left to try and carry the rest of the load - most of the load. Yeah, she's not great at a lot of it - but she also shouldn't be mostly responsible for all that. It's such a common dynamic in parents of that age, and it sucks. (I could write a whole other essay on parenting and gender just around this point, but I'll spare you guys that torture.)

It’s bloody hard being the kid that forces your parent to confront that in themselves. Tori clearly did this a little bit, but at least in the show, Charlie bears the brunt of it. He’s the one whose struggles are the most unavoidably obvious, he’s the one asking for help, demanding to be seen, forcing Jane to confront herself and her own unhealed pain. And she does, or at least she starts to. Because she does love her children. I think that’s clearer in the show than in in Solitaire in particular. She isn’t heartless, but it feels to her kids like she is, because she fundamentally lacks the skills and healing to parent them the way they need and deserve. It's not that Tori and Charlie are wrong in the novel, we just don't get the extra insight into Jane's character we get in the show. (Although this little story about Jane and Julio meeting adds a lot of context and I love it!)

Their story is so goddamn real to me. Just by being himself, Charlie forced his parents to confront all the ways they hadn’t measured up as parents. And that really, really hurt him. It really, really hurt Tori. They deserved better. And that doesn’t mean their parents don’t love them. We can see them - especially Jane - trying to change, confronting their failures. Because at the end of the day they do genuinely love their children, and want what’s best for them. But they need to be shown what that looks like, and they need help to heal so they can provide it.

[pallysuune]

Yep~ And yeah, Motley's a different flavor of Solitaire compared to Nocturne. Personally, they're both hella *fine* to me. You'll get to see more of Motley's thoughts and morality as you go on to Path of the Archon (also where the euphemism-filled flirt-fight happens).

I'd like to think being Iconoclast is the primary trait that got Nocturne into RT (Meli, in your case) too. What about her being Iconoclast that sets her apart from the others that made him attracted? And from that latest character study, what interesting thing about humans that he finds "unpredictable"?

I do like seeing a variety of xenos perspectives. In the Heirs of the Laughing God audiobooks, you have three Harlequins that, while they do think humans are barbaric, also argue about whether they're worth saving/sparing from different perspectives.

I love seeing different personalities in Solitaires, and how differently they all can react to their position in things. I'm looking forward to reading more about Motley and seeing how he is.

For me, at least, I think a lot of it is sort of rooted in the Harlequin's focus on community (for lack of a better word). We see in several stories their focus on making sure the past isn't forgotten, yes, but also, in Masque specifically, we see them investigating the destruction of a craftworld. They *care* about other aeldari and about getting justice for them. We see this with Nocturne, too, in how he wants to avenge Crudarach and see Yremeriss punished for it. I think he sees an Iconoclast RT, Meli specifically, and recognizes that empathy in her as something similar to how he views other aeldari. She's not like those who give themselves to Chaos, or those who are fanatical for the emperor. It's probably pretty refreshing to him.

As far as the unpredictability, a lot of different fantasy media talk about how, compared to longer-lived races, humans move pretty fast and sometimes almost erratically, since they don't 'look at the big picture' as much. I think Nocturne find it entertaining to see how humans react, and especially enjoys it when they can surprise him, as Meli does.

[skyburger]

this is a long ass post because i accidentally started rambling about nonsense (jjba characters playing video games) so im putting it under a cut to spare you all. read at your own risk...

oh i know im a massive fucking nerd when i realize one of the reasons i love jojos so much is because it's got characters from both japan and america (and many others countries which also fucking rules but for the purposes of this post im singling out these two) which means i can imagine them having some stupid lost in translation shit going on. okay. so:

kakyoin talks about the famicom and avdol is like ohhh i know that*!! and they talk about mother** and dragon quest*** and final fantasy****. and they're chatting happily but joseph looks at him he's like man i only know that super mario game. and kakyoin is like ohhhh i played that too!! and so the two of them are yapping away it's absolutely fine until someone mentions koopas (as in, the minor enemy, koopa troopas) and kakyoin's like. Huh? kuppa's the final boss of the game, the one with the big shell that's got spikes on it...? but joseph is like no thats bowser??? koopas are the little ones with the shells you can jump on and send rolling!! (polnareff is a master system diehard fan so he's just watching this with confusion. he barely even knows who pacman is let alone mario.) kakyoin doubles down on this hes like Listen. ive played more video games than all of you combined. the small ones are called nokonokos. the final boss is kuppa. and they start arguing about it (loudly).

avdol is watching this happen and he says to polnareff i didn't even know anyone other than mario had a name. polnareff replies man all i play is monopoly on my sega master system. Whenever i go to an arcade i just play pinball (he forgets there are other games he's just a absolutely entranced by pinball). joseph and kakyoin are arguing for fucking ever and they only stop because they get attacked by a stand user or something.

many years later jotaro will think back on this conversation and realize a few things. 1) he sees modern (by his standards, so, at least 20 years old today) depictions of mario and he thinks ohhhh kakyoin knows that guy. 2) after living around gamers in both japan (kakyoin) and in america (joseph, when he visits, and later his wife and jolyne*****) he does some research (picks up a book about the history of video games on a whim) and discovers that joseph and kakyoin were both, in fact, right-- in japan, the smaller turtle-esque enemies are called "nokonokos" and the final boss is called "kuppa", but due to translation nonsense, in america (and most western countries), the smaller enemies are known as "koopa troopas" and the big bad himself is known as "bowser". he wonders how the hell that even happened. he then goes on to continue his tradition of being an old fucking man in spirit when it comes to video games. he likes games like mahjong... solitaire... minesweeper... the fanciest he's ever gotten is text adventure games. maybe one of the older simcity games, if he's feeling brave.

jolyne lets him play tetris on her gameboy one day and just doesn't get the appeal at all (but holly absolutely does so jolyne will play tetris with her grandma for ages). joseph can kick jotaro's ass at any version of mario kart even in his 80s and 90s because jotaro cant even handle atari games this "gamecube" and "wii" stuff is too much for him.

anyway over in naples polnareff is struggling to discuss pokemon with anyone because he played the french version, which translate all the names to french, but in italy they just use the english names for the pokemon. if anyone asks him about pokemon hes just given up on naming any of them at this point. so at my hypothetical fucked up stardust crusaders reunion that they all bring their buddies to, polnareff is like what the hell is a "butter free". a stick of butter pokemon? what? and jolyne is laughing her ass off while mista tells him no dude it's the butterfly one, the one episode of the show you cried at and he goes OHHHH YOU MEAN PAPILUSION!! jolyne is still giggling but she does actually find it really cool to know butterfree's names in different languages. she tells him it's butterfree in japanese, too (she is not fluent in japanese so she makes jotaro help her. he can name a ton of pokemon but he doesnt even know about types or evolutions.), like how pikachu is the same in english and japanese!!

this is kind of unrelated but if you asked me most jojo characters' favorite pokemon i would not be able to tell you. however i know jolyne likes butterfree (she likes butterflies she likes gen 1 its a no brainer). i think jolyne's mom likes ho-oh i don't have a reason i just think shes into the bird ones and thats a sick as hell bird one. jotaro's favorite is magmar****** because that's the only one he can remember the name of. like he seriously remembers magmar more than pikachu. joseph likes bulbasaur because jolyne showed him the whole pokedex and he said bulbasaur was his favorite because its. the first one you see in the dex. and hes stubborn enough that he just stuck with it. if he wasnt a stubborn bastard i think hed say meowth because i know jolyne makes him watch the show and he gets a kick outta team rocket. holly likes mew again i dont have reasons other than thats her vibe. polnareff likes farfetch'd. the vibes are right.

kakyoin and avdol sadly died several years before the first pokemon games came out but if they had survived: i think kakyoin would like cherubi but considering that one only came out in 2006, i think his initial fav is seel (and dewgong). dont have a reason for this he just seems like a seel and dewgong kind of guy. avdol likes tauros the most but everyone assumes he likes flareon or moltres instead and hes like ehhh. theyre cool but tauros is cooler. gen 1 is his favorite methinks but if someone (jolyne) got him to play gen 2 i think cyndaquil would be a second favorite (and probs his favorite starter. he always picks charmander in gen 1 but aside from charizard hes pretty neutral on that evolution line).

anyway when polnareff finds out about pinball games (like on handheld consoles) he goes nuts. his favorite console game for YEARS is pokemon pinball for the gameboy color (and it's only usurped by pokemon pinball ruby & sapphire for the gameboy advance). his favorite pc game is 3d pinball ‪space cadet (but second place is always whatever the most recent version of monopoly for windows is). (he doesn't bother buying new consoles just for monopoly but if monopoly releases on something he DOES own? oh you bet your ass he owns it. he was an early adopter of iphones so hes also played every shitty version of monopoly for iphone. he spends money on micro transactions and then lies about doing that. he doesn't even collect physical copies of monopoly, like, the actual board game? he owns this one beat-up copy of monopoly las vegas edition and he's like yeah why would i need another one? i already have one...? (he does not understand peoples confusion when he goes on to buy multiple monopoly video games instead.) he ate the monopoly money once because he wanted to know what it tasted like (he wasnt even playing it at the time. he went and got out monopoly and ate a single bill of monopoly money and then put it back).

holly cant play a lot of games because fast-moving camera angles make her motion sick however joseph does not share this problem (or if he does? he hides / ignores it because he wants to play these fuckass games.) so he loves playing first person shooters. he loves half-life and fucking. counter-strike i dont know. i dont actually really play fps. anyway he doesnt own any consoles and he never will (he says hes "too old" for that and "he'll be dead soon" but he's been saying that for 40 years so they all just know hes being a stubborn bastard) so instead he spends that money on making sure hes got the beefiest gaming pc ever. if he can't run a new game due to his hardware (not often) he just replaces it with the newest possible part. i need you to picture his gamer setup i will describe it to you:

imagine your grandparents house. maybe even your great grandparents house. if youve never been to yours or anyones grandparents house then just google it i promise i am talking about a really stereotypical old people house. like this house has had the same cord phone for decades. the furniture has not been updated in just as long. however at like the kitchen table (the dining room table HAS to be empty. "what if we have a bunch of guests over?" suzi q says. they havent had more than three guests since holly moved out.) is home to joseph's gamer setup i can picture it now. he's got a single cheaper monitor that sometimes just flickers off if you hit the table by accident. the case for the computer itself is from like 2007 and joseph refuses to update it because he doesnt want one of those "obnoxious rainbow light-up computers" (fair). he does not know you can still get plain cases these days. if something doesn't fit in this stupid case he takes it to a friend (someone he found on craigslist who is charging him ridiculous prices) to make a custom part for this case so he can plug in xyz and have his floppy / cd / dvd ect. drives. this case has so many wonky custom parts it looks like frankensteins monster and its pretty much the ship of theseus at this point. anyway he's got this boring as fuck computer tower underneath this really basic wooden table in the corner. the monitor sits on the desk with a keyboard and a mouse (both wired. joseph gets really annoyed if he has to change the batteries in a mouse.) and theyre all black with no decorations. the desk is probably too big to just have a single setup on it but probably too small to set up a second one (which wouldnt even get used, anyway). the only other decorations on the desk are framed picture of family and friends, which WOULD be nice, except all the frames are cheap, broken or both because this table is kind of wobbly and he's always getting really mad at his games and knocking them over on accident. he's got a medium bookshelf next to this table which is home to huge but very disorganized collection of pc games that has not been updated much since steam became a thing. he owns the sims 1 & 2 with all their expansions. he owns a lot of bootleg copies and indie games he got from many different people over the years, all with sharpie label on the disc (and in a jewel case if the creator was feeling fancy). he owns every half life game & expansion.

he gets into emulating at some point but he doesnt own any controllers and refuses to buy one so he plays all these games with keyboard controls (he doesnt know you can change the control mapping so he just gets really good at using weird fucking controls).

he loves simpsons hit & run. he's not a huge minecraft guy but he does play if jolyne asks him to (and she does). if this is one of the rare times hes playing mc on his own he only plays on hardcore and sees how far he can get on a quest to kill the ender dragon (he usually doesnt even make it to the nether). he loves playing awful romhacks. please picture joseph joestar in his late 90s playing a fnaf game. okay i think thats it

oops this post has gotten really far off track from my original point of "i think the sdc having video game conversations get confusing cause of localization differences" but thats alright. old man joseph playing ultimate custom night ok?

*it's also called the famicom in egyptian arabic everyone say thank you to the wikipedia editors who translated the NES wikipedia article into so many different languages! even so, avdol does seem like the kind of guy (to me, at least) to know lots about different games in different regions, even if he has not, in fact, played most of them.

** as in the first mother series game. the one before earthbound. it didn't get an english release for at least a couple decades after sdc so.

***dragon quest didn't release in north america until august of 1989, so it wouldn't have been out yet! i don't think it even released in europe on the NES at all lol

****again, final fantasy didn't release in north america until 1990 on the NES, and europe didn't get it until the ps1 era!

*****i know jolyne and her mom are gamers. trust me.

******this is inspired by wayneradiotv saying gordon freeman hlvrai's favorite pokemon is magmar. i just think yeah... they're the only two magmar fans ever

[deb79ful]

Let's go and introduce the next OC, shall we? This here's Jaga Aranea, a princess on the distant planet Arakis, though she's not one to rely on mere diplomacy—she's also a member of an ancient ninja clan! She combines her katana and stinger to surprising effect, and is deft enough on her feet to sidestep blaster shots and climb up walls. In her spare time, she plays a Solitaire-like game called Kuresoera to keep her mind sharp.

One thing to keep in mind if you meet her... She may be a princess, but don't feel the need to bow to her. She's not a fan.

Jaga's a character I created for a friend's tabletop RPG campaign way back when, a spacefaring one. Unorthodox, sure, but I didn't want to go bog-standard, and with the system we were using allowing for a Giant Insect character (yes I know they're arachnids shush), I decided to play it risky. Invested in tech use, at least, so those pincers of hers didn't just break anything she tried to grab!

Sadly, the campaign in question kinda fizzled out when we went our separate ways between high school and college, but Jaga's stuck around in the back of my mind. Like with most of my OCs, I'd love to bring her to more stuff in the future—an RPG, certainly! Maybe one day, when I can get into making video games...

(And yes, Jaga's name does come from Bionicle's Nui-Jaga. I loved that franchise as a kid! Still do, actually.)

[jon-mcbrine-author]

The Fandom Game

I’m not that kind of nerd…”

I like to say this when it comes to repairing equipment like computers or knowing how to write code. If it is more of a technical skill or a problem that requires practical knowhow, then, well, I’m not that kind of nerd. If you want useless sci-fi trivia and deep-seated opinions on superhero costumes, then I am the dork you are looking for. When it comes to video games, I am definitely an outlier.

Not possessing any talent for playing games from any generation’s console isn’t the only reason why I am not a gamer. The hardware and downloadable content can get expensive, but the cost is only a partial factor for my gaming negligence. Like so many things in life, it comes down to time and the lack thereof.

Gaming continues to develop its own broad subculture, and like any major form of entertainment, video games are varied among not just genres, but fandoms as well. When I was kid, of course I played. My gaming habits dwindled as I entered my late-twenties and gradually evaporated further as I crossed into my thirties. Now in my forties, playing something as simple as solitaire on my phone doesn’t interest me. I don’t feel superior to gamers, but the fact remains that when I do have recreational time, it is never a choice of mine to fire up the gaming console. The older PlayStation in my home mainly serves as a way to stream series and movies - and that’s the machine gets activated at all.

A lack of spare time plagues many people, and it is true that the older you get, the less interested you are in the hobbies of one’s youth. This is the case for me, but the video game industry is still producing games and content. The video game business takes its wins and losses like any other, but the gaming community remains active and steadfast. They certainly don’t need me, though I like to think I’d be welcome. But would I actually be, though?

It’s very easy to focus on the ugliness of a fandom. Comment sections and forums are rife with negativity, and the nasty gatekeepers seem to be the most prevalent. On any end of the gaming fandom spectrum, there will be bitterness and rage, so it is not difficult to be turned off and ignore the whole thing. Despite this, I have a curiosity about what goes on in the gaming universe despite not playing myself (it’s not too far of a stretch since my appearance is that of a standard nerd). This peripheral interest is nurtured by what my social media feeds think I want to see. Even my digital presence is misconstrued as a gamer.

Dipping your toe into a new fandom can always be daunting, so what is it about gaming that feels so unwelcome? Especially when I have a preexisting fascination? Perhaps feeling like an uninvited outsider isn’t accurate. Numerous gaming communities and channels are fun and operated by friendly folks who encourage noobs to join in. The unappealing element of gaming belongs to anything that makes seem not fun.

I don’t expect to enter any new fandom thinking I am familiar with every nuance that exists within lores as well as the history of the subculture. A casual scroll through X showcases several hot takes by gamers displaying their thoughts on the app formerly known as Twitter. There is an abundance of accounts posting what at least seem to impulsive opinions on a character’s appearance or how they are used in a story. Welcome to the Internet, right? I’m not even going into the whole “toxic” territory. Frankly, it doesn’t matter much which sect of fans it is or where their extreme views come from. Eventually, it all becomes, well, not fun.

A legion of nerds with bad taste isn’t exactly a new phenomenon or enough to dissuade me from simply trying something new. Board games, films, television series, sports, comic books - no fandom is immune to the eye-roll-inducing cringe-base that seem like they are only around to purposely turn off potential newcomers. Again, you’d think it’s day two of my online journey and I’m just now discoveries that meanies log in and tweet out things other than kittens and fluffy pillows. What I’ve deduced after considering so many similarities shared by multiple forms of entertainment is that yes, there will be unpleasant people who “well actually” folks while they themselves need to be well-actually’d - and sure, I will disagree with the majority of my my fellow fans other opinions - but the bottom line is, I only have so much bandwidth.

In my early forties, there isn’t enough motivation to shoehorn yet another obsessive pop culture hobby thing into my already taxed fan-brain.

Play on to those that play. I’m sure the gaming universe will continue just fine without this kind of nerd.

Stay in the loop for more details by following Jonfiction Blog on Substack and be sure to check out jonmcbrine.com for more info about this and all my books.

Unsecret Identity: Eric Icarus - Book One is available now from the Amazon Kindle store.

https://a.co/2XAtxvH

New blog every Monday. Newsletter first Monday

[solitaireships]

Hello, Bruce! Could you answer 👀, ⭐️ and 🗣? -- violetsareblue-selfships

Sure.

👀 - What's your favorite feature of your s/o's?

In terms of physical features? Her hair. It’s soft, and I like her curls. She usually has it down in her day-to-day life, but she’ll put it in a bun at night because she says that helps protect it, and she keeps it in a ponytail most of the time in her Solitaire costume.

⭐️ - Have you ever gone stargazing with your s/o?

We have a couple of times. The watchtower has an incredible view, especially when we’ve just gotten back from a mission.

🗣 - Do they compliment you commonly? What do they say?

Publicly, Alex is sparing with her compliments. I think she finds it too intimate to talk about around others, or at least too much to say when people are within earshot. But she’s very complimentary in private. About my looks, my abilities, the things I do- everything, really. She’s far too kind to me, but I make sure to repay her with my own compliments for every one she gives me.

[oneatlatime]

The Boy in the Iceberg

58 seconds in and I can already see why people say this show is gorgeous. Look at those colours! Although the double image around some of the line art is distracting.

Can water do that? Just have random fast currents in an otherwise pretty still ocean? Also, Catara couldn't have grabbed a spare paddle and helped? Actually they seemed screwed anyway. If they were going any faster they probably would have landed harder, or not on ice at all.

Judging by Sokka's lack of reaction to Catara's temper tantrum, I'd say she has that exact rant at least three times a week.

It's a face!

Maybe the giant orb created the current to summon them there?

Catara has no self-preservation instincts at all. Giant glowy orb washed up in front of you, don't poke it!

Tiger seals.

Solitaire. Neat.

That haircut is not good. Also a very unique choice for a voice. Wait this is Zuko? The guy everyone's obsessed with?

I love Appa already.

"this is Catara, my flying sister." A man after my own heart.

They really would have been stuck without Aang to offer a ride. What was their plan to get home?

Zuko is a prince? Hunting the avatar to reclaim his honour. Not sure how those two go together but ok. I guess 100 years ago the avatar stole a time-travelling Zuko's honour.

Appa can swim through the night? Why does he have six legs?

I didn't know this was a dream sequence at first and I was wondering where Sokka and Catara were. For future reference: dreams are brown.

Aang should have frozen to death by now. That's nowhere near enough clothes. And Catara can't be only just noticing the blue lines now.

Seems like the village has hit a rough patch.

If this is how catara reacts to a bald child, she's gonna spontaneously combust the first time she meets a teenage boy who isn't her brother. And how is an air bender going to teach her water bending?

Between the Appa snot and the watchtower gag, I sense Sokka will become the butt of many jokes.

You know, if you want him to actually learn, maybe tell him what he did wrong rather than reciting philosophical stuff and then shooting fire at his face? His presumably scarred face? Scarred presumably by fire? Kudos to Zuko for not flinching.

Is there a stick in Zuko's hair that's supporting it upright or does his hair just do that? Does Zuko have Pippi Longstocking hair? Speaking of hair, why does Catara have her hair like that? Surely that gets in the way of seeing stuff? It does look good when her hood is up though.

Good sneaky exposition dump Zuko. Didn't notice it until I thought about it after.

There's something hilarious yet tragic about Sokka spouting the wartime equivalent of live laugh love quotes and losing the battle with potty breaks. He has no idea what he's talking about but he believes in what he's saying so much.

Did Aang spend an hour in there?!?

So pretty.

Appa has six legs and penguins have four wings. Is the rule in this show that animals have 50% more appendages?

Last airbender smothered by penguins, more at 11.

"I haven't done this since I was a kid!" "You still are a kid!" That line feels like something that's going to come back.

Was the whole 'being a bender is showing no fear' or however that line went actually about bending, or do you really just want to explore the ship, Aang?

Gerbils at the south pole?

Would the fire nation send people back to rig a lost ship or are all fire nation ships rigged at all times and the crews are just used to working around the traps? Actually that would be a great way to catch spies.

I would jump to brain-damage induced amnesia from being trapped in an iceberg for a few hours before I'd ever think of a century long cryo-sleep. "it's the only explanation." Really?

All of these backgrounds are so pretty.

Air bending gets you some serious air. Those hops are stupid big, even accounting for cartoon physics.

I really like the end credits music. And according to the credits, I've been mispelling Katara's name this whole time.

Some final thoughts:

Katara (with a K) is too idealistic and trusting and Sokka is too cynical and suspicious. A perfect sibling pair. Also I love Sokka's sense of humour.

I like Aang's specific flavour of goofiness. He seems secure in himself and genuine. He has attention issues though.

Appa is a sea bison actually. Common misconception.

I like that they introduce the antagonist like 10 minutes into the first episode, but they're going to have to flesh him out way more before I read Zuko as anything other than an asshole. Also the voice is going to take a while to get used to. It's not that it doesn't fit the character design, it's just that I've never heard an actual human talk like that naturally. It's kind of muppet-like. Maybe he damaged his throat when he got that scar?

The voice acting is just superb. Even single lines like Gran Gran have distinct character. I did have to rewind a couple of times to catch what the old man with Zuko was saying.

The shading on the snow, the clouds and the skies, it's all so beautiful. You could watch this episode on mute and still be satisfied.

Katara is the only waterbender in the whole south pole, Sokka is the only man in the whole village, and Aang is the only air bender in the whole world. Gonna be a lot of lonely kids in this show. I sense a theme. I bet Appa is the only sea bison too.

Sokka is my favourite so far, but I think Aang is going to grow on me. Katara is a little bit too much of a Little Sister (TM) and Zuko just feels flat. But that just means more room to grow for both of them as characters. Of course Appa reigns supreme. I hope there's more of him in the next episode.

Even though this was half of a two-part episode, the cut off didn't feel abrupt. Maybe not a full self-contained story, but they left off at a perfect place.

Rereading this before posting, I asked a lot of quetsions. That's good! So many hooks to get me into the show, all in the first episode. I'm looking forward to the next one.

[raisengen]

Lucian the Blood Diamond, the default final boss of Crimson Solitaire, is quite a complicated boss fight, so I thought I’d try to write up some suggestions for how to approach the fight in case anyone’s having trouble.

First, here’s the stage map, with the boss’s path marked, along with where he pauses and for how long:

TL;DR tips:

Don’t put your defensive line in the red hatched zone, the boss will walk through there and shred them halfway through the fight.

Put an AoE Sniper (or Schwarz/Fartooth S3) on the lower sniper spot early on to kill the Scarlet Singers and hit the boss when he spawns.

Unless you have loads of life points, put an anti-air sniper like Kroos on the upper sniper spot to intercept the balloons and chip away at the singers.

Bring along a Wandering Medic like Honeyberry or Mulberry.

Try not the block the boss unless you’re ready to deal a lot of damage.

Try to have at least 5 life points spare to let enemies leak through the routes that open once the roadblocks are destroyed.

The boss will likely wipe any ranged ops in the top-left then at the bottom, so start with medics etc. deployed at the bottom then swap them out for replacements in the top left after the boss passes by.

More detail/explanation under the cut:

The Scarlet Singers are the second biggest threat on the map, but they spend a lot of time circling around before doing anything. There are too many to put an operator within 2 tiles of them without being destroyed, but you can use a long-range operator to attack them.

AoE snipers are ideal, since the singers only have 300 def, are packed close together, and the boss spawn will be in the sniper’s range. Schwarz and Fartooth work well too since they can kill the enemies in only a few hits. Casters are harder to use without good relics, since the singers have 60 Res. In general, you want heavy hitters since the singers double enemy attack speed for 10s when they take 20 hits.

Anti-air snipers don’t do too much to singers without relics due to their low Atk, but you’ll still likely want one to deal with the 13 balloons. You can put them facing upwards on the upper sniper spot, but I prefer them facing right to shoot down the balloons further away and to deal extra chip damage to the singers.

If you have Thorns S3, you can put him above the sniper spots facing right to deal with both the singers and the balloons.

Since the boss, the singers and the balloons all deal neural impairment damage, it’s very helpful to bring along Honeyberry or Mulberry. E1 is enough for them. I’ve marked the two medic spots that give them the best coverage, though you can adapt to your own formation.

After the boss spawns he walks around the edge of the map counterclockwise, using his dash to destroy the roadblocks and his AoE to KO your ranged operators. As already mentioned, you can expect to lose some ranged operators to him (assuming you can’t kill him early on) so try to bring backups where you can and place them where the boss has already passed by.

While the extra lanes opening up can be scary, the top lane is only used by 3 defenders and the bottom lane is only used by 2 singers. It’s easier to just let them through, so try to stock up on enough life points beforehand.

Every time the boss dashes through a roadblock or operator he spawns an extra enemy that also uses an AoE attack that deals neural damage. As such, try to be careful about how often you block him. However, he can only use the dash once every 15 seconds, you can use a “decoy” to waste it then block him with a second operator if you want to hold him in place. While unblocked he has a 40% dodge rate, so this can be a useful way to hold him in range of your DPS.

Multi-target skills like SilverAsh S3 are useful for the above tactic, since they can attack the boss and the spawn at the same time.

The top-centre of the map is a useful place to focus your DPS, since the boss passes through twice, giving you time to recharge your DPS skills and pausing the second time.  Most enemies pass through that area too, so you’ll need some damage dealers there anyway.

[dweetwise]

[Ace x David] Behind Closed Doors

For @frivolousace and their favorite rarepair <3 Rating: G Word count: 2.1k ao3 link

"Come on! Truth or dare?"

At what sounded like Nea's impatient voice, Ace looked up from his game of solitaire.

Some of the younger survivors had formed a circle around the fire. Their night's entertainment of choice appeared to be the simple—and campfire favorite—game of truth or dare.

"The last time we played you made me eat a slug," Meg said. "So definitely truth."

"Okay." Nea smirked. "What happened to that purple flashlight you stole from me? Because I know for a fact the killer didn't have Franklin's."

"Wait, she stole one from you too!?" Steve exclaimed.

"Well yours was a victim of an item-camping Bubba," Meg told Steve. Then she smiled sheepishly. "Nea's I went out running with and dropped in the swamp."

"You what!?" Nea screeched.

"It was an accident!"

The group chuckled at the girls' bickering while Laurie patted a fuming Nea on the shoulder.

Ace smiled at his friends having fun. It was times like these that were his favorite: with the day's trials over and done with and an air of easy camaraderie settling over the survivor camp.

It was a shame that Ace had been banned from the majority of games after numerous accusations of both cheating and extravagant lies. But at least he could enjoy laughing at the others' expense as truth or dare inevitably got out of hand.

Because it always did.

"C'mon, Red, your turn to ask," Quentin said.

"Hmmm…" Meg's eyes scanned the group. "David! Truth or dare?"

David, who hadn't even looked to want any part of the game, merely perked up with an amused smirk. "What the hell. Truth."

Meg's smile was full of mischief. "Fuck, marry, kill. Free choice, survivors and killers!"

"Really? That the best you got?" David grinned.

Ace huffed out a quiet chuckle. It was amazing how far David had come. Only a year ago, he would have refused to even participate in games like these—claiming they were too girly and childish, in not so polite terms—or at the very least thrown a fit after a question like that, punching a tree and oozing toxic masculinity.

"Plenty o' killers I'd wanna off, but I think we all know which one I'd pick given the choice," David huffed.

"Do they happen to have a white mask and go hmm, hmm hmm—" Kate started humming the Huntress' lullaby with eerie precision.

"Ugh, stop!" Feng smacked Kate's arm. "I went against that bitch twice today! If I hear one more second of that fucking song…"

Kate smiled sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Okay, okay," Meg said. "Kill Huntress. So who'd you fuck?"

A dozen pairs of curious eyes were aimed at David and Ace couldn't help but roll his own under the brim of his cap. 

This was another new thing. After David had come out to them—and mellowed out in the process, since he no longer had to keep up the appearance of some ridiculous macho man—the survivors had become very interested in who David was interested in. Even though David clearly wasn't ready to tell them.

That didn't stop them from trying to dig for crumbs in the form of silly party games, apparently.

David just shrugged. "Maybe Triangle Head."

"What!?" Meg yelled while many others erupted into laughs.

"Pyramid Head is a monster! A killer!" Laurie hissed, clearly scandalized.

"Dat ass, though," Nea commented.

"He's a prick, but he's hot," David said. "Strong, too, if he can lug that sword around—"

"Ugh, spare me, please." Meg scrunched her nose. "So, for the last one…?"

"Hmm," David said. "I'd probably marry…"

He paused for dramatic effect, pretending to mull over the answer.

The atmosphere in the whole camp was now one of anticipation; everyone far from subtle in their nosiness of their friend's love life. Ace could even spot the normally polite Claudette eagerly leaning forward in her seat.

"Don't get your hopes up, he's just gonna give you a troll answer again," Quentin commented.

Ace smirked to himself. He had a pretty good idea of who David had his eye on, but then again, he hadn't exactly played fair to figure it out. 

Still, Quentin was right; there was no way David was admitting his interest in front of so many people—

"Ace," David said, and Ace's world screeched to a halt.

Thirty heads whipped around to look at Ace, and the gambler only hoped that nobody noticed how it took him a second to put on his patented smirk instead of the slack-jawed staring that David's simple confession had reduced him to.

Ace raised an eyebrow, cursing himself for not having his sunglasses on hand. "That so, King?"

"Uh." Yui grimaced and turned to David. "Are you sure about that?"

"Told you. Troll answer," Quentin said.

David merely grinned and offered a one-shoulder shrug.

"I can see a Vegas wedding," David said. "Ace'd make a nice trophy husband, yeah?"

"If you mean 'gamble away all your shared assets as soon as you signed the papers,' maybe," Zarina huffed.

Ace saw the twitch in David's hands; a reflex from years of resorting to fighting at the first sign of offense. But now, the ex-brawler just took a deliberate breath before splaying his fingers back to his sides.

…And people were still staring at Ace, watching him watching David.

Ace leered at David, giving him an exaggerated wink. "You had me at Vegas, handsome."

"Gross," Meg commented. She was clearly disappointed at not getting the gossip she wanted.

"Come on!" Feng yelled at the group, snapping her fingers obnoxiously. "We're playing a game, not a fucking daddy dating sim!"

And Ace had never been as glad for the girl's impatience as when David predictably picked Feng as his target and then dared her to do a handstand.

Fortunately, in the midst of laughter, Feng falling on her ass, and Nea showing off how to do a proper handstand, nobody noticed that Ace was still left reeling by David's confession.

—---

After the game, Ace found David at his usual spot in the woods—recognizable by the dozen trees that had been cracked and dented by angry fists during the years.

But now, David was only sitting at the root of one tree, leaning against the bark and looking out over the forest in thought.

"Knew I'd find you here," Ace said, making his presence known.

Immediately, the pensive expression on David's face was replaced by his bright grin. "Hey, luv."

The stupid little nickname didn't normally make Ace blush, but after today, he felt his ears heating up.

"Hey yourself," Ace said, going to sit down next to the man.

But David had other ideas, grabbing Ace by his hip and manhandling him into his lap instead.

"Oof," Ace protested the treatment and adjusted his hat. "Careful, pumpkin pie, these old bones aren't what they used to be."

David snorted and shot up an unamused look to where Ace was straddling him. "When we first met, you said you were thirty."

"And you laughed in my face and said in yer dreams, pops," Ace shot back.

David winced; it was far from the first time he'd been embarrassed by his past behavior.

"But I was just happy I got you to laugh, so win-win," Ace said.

He got a hesitant smile in return. David's hand, scarred and callused from a life as a fighter, cupped Ace's cheek oh so gently, before his fingers trailed up to—

Yoink Ace's hat from his head and throw it into the depths of the forest.

"Hey,'' Ace protested. "I liked that cap."

"And I wanna see your pretty face." David was smirking way too smugly. "Dunno why you insist on hiding it from me."

"God, you are such a sap." Ace grinned. "The others would never believe me, if I tried to tell them you just want to snuggle and tell me cheesy one-liners 24/7."

"That sounds like a them problem," David sassed.

And then he shut up Ace's would-be comeback with what Ace imagined was called a thorough snogging.

David kissed much like he fought: wholeheartedly and with his entire body. Chapped lips stole the breath from Ace's mouth while strong arms pulled him closer and caressed over his back. Even David's legs shifted under Ace, like every part of him yearned to be as close to Ace as humanly possible.

And Ace tried to give back as good as he got. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, running clever hands over David's shoulders and up his neck, earning a bone-deep, satisfied moan for his efforts.

When they pulled apart, Ace was more than a little out of breath. And David was still smirking infuriatingly, like getting Ace hot under the collar had been some self-issued challenge and David had won.

But Ace rarely went down without a fight.

"So, Pyramid Head, huh?" Ace asked.

It was satisfying to see the cocky smirk fall as David groaned in protest and his head slumped to rest on Ace's shoulder.

"Not like I could pick you twice," David grumbled. "Dumb fuckin' rules. Had to come up with somethin'."

Ah; David King, fiercely loyal even during hypothetical, immature party games.

"You're getting pretty good at bullshitting." Ace grinned. "Wonder where you learned that from."

David chuckled and pulled Ace even closer into his arms.

"And… yer not mad?" David asked.

"About a couple tiny white lies to get our friends off your back? Do you know me?"

David huffed. "You know what I mean."

"Well, you might have gotten them to speculate whether you were really kidding about being into me, so maybe not the best move if you didn't want them to find out about us." Ace shrugged. "But it's all the same to me. If our friends finally figure out that we've been doing this for the last… what, two years?"

"A year and ten months," David immediately replied. "Well—earth years. Fuck knows how long it's been in here. Still haven't figured out the equations."

Sometimes Ace forgot just how goddamn smart David was. Ace wasn't shy to admit he'd judged a book by its well-defined, muscled cover. But after his little character reform, David had been helping out Adam—and the other people lightyears smarter than Ace—in figuring out the ins and outs of the realm.

"Right,'' Ace said. "In any case, it's still a little embarrassing for the others to not have figured it out. Well, I know I'm the master of subterfuge, but you? I mean, marriage?" Ace laughed. "Maybe it was just absurd enough that they knew you were kidding."

David didn't laugh with Ace at the shared joke. On the contrary, David was frowning.

"Uh," Ace said. "David?"

"I wasn't kidding," David said. "If I got the chance to, I'd marry ya in a heartbeat."

Ace froze. He'd probably have fallen off David's lap unless the ridiculously defined biceps weren't there to balance him.

"Ha-ha, very funny." Ace's grin was shaky. "You're getting a little too good at that bullshitting."

"'m serious," David said. "I'm in this for the long haul. I love you, and I wanna marry you someday. I'd do it now, if you asked me to."

Ace fidgeted and felt himself flush. He cursed the lack of hat to hide behind, because this was… Ace didn't do this, these earnest confessions and plans for the future—hell, he'd never even been able to say those three little words back to David. Yet here David was, already talking about tying the knot.

"But I know ya need time," David said, smiling much too happily considering Ace's emotional constipation. "Lucky for me, time's all we've got in here."

He leaned in, rough fingers rubbing gentle circles over the stubble on Ace's jawline, leaning in to murmur against Ace's ear.

"Take all the time you need, luv."

Ace almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. That was David King for you; stubborn, loudmouth, loyal to a fault…

And hopeless romantic, even when it came it washed-up gamblers with commitment issues.

Ace smirked. "Kiss me like that fifty more times and I'll see what I can do."

And David threw his head back and laughed, a deep bellow that had to echo all the way to the shared campfire, looking so damn happy that it made Ace's chest feel tight and butterflies dance in his gut.

And, then David's mouth was on Ace's again and his goddamn gentle hands were caressing Ace like he was something precious. Ace felt like he was falling, tumbling into something unknown and maybe not as scary as he'd always feared. 

One day, he'd be able to say it back. For now, Ace only smiled and melted into the kiss, settling in for a cozy night safe in David's arms.

[angrelysimpping]

can we please have what video games LI’s play. -capybara Anon

Alex

Doesn't really play video games but was addicted to snake and pong as a child. They would steal their parent's flip phones and play until the battery died.

Avery

Solitaire. Chess and checkers. Older Tomb Raider games. Turn-based strategy games.

Eden

Hasn't played video games in at least a decade, but used to play arcade games if they could find spare change.

Kylar

Plays a lot of arcade games. They're at the top of the leader board for Space Invaders at the local arcade. Plays visual novels, dating sims, and h-games. Owns all the sims games and will go into periods of only playing the sims before not touching it for months.

Robin

Minecraft. Nintendo games. Tries to pick games that have a lot of replay value. Strategy games.

Sydney

Doesn't play a lot of video games now, but used to play educational video games when they were younger.

Whitney

Call of Duty. Party games. Mains Kirby and King Dedede in Smash Bros. Bloodborne. Low key addicted to HuniePop.

[the-lost-girl-you-didnt-know]

Ok, so The Lost Boys was made in the late 80’s yeah? Just play with me in this space for a bit… if they were to live in modern times, and owned smartphones, what do you think they’d use them for? Like, Instagram? Twitter? Watching pirated movies? 🤣🤣🤣

Oh boy, first request, here we go!

The Lost Boys with Smartphones

David

My gut and my brain agree and say that David would only use his smartphone for the most basic shit. Probably only uses a few apps at most (that aren't mobile games).

He's one of those kinds of people who like to be "off the grid" more often than not.

Prefers calling over texting because texts can't get his point and intentions across nearly as well as his own voice can.

David definitely has a Twitter and likes to watch threads blow up with drama. You know, you just KNOW, that he has started shit on Twitter just for the fun of watching other people either agree with him or vehemently argue with him, whether or not he actually has a stance on the topic.

Would only follow his boys, maybe Max, and no one else, but somehow garners at least a thousand of his own followers.

Probably has Grubhub and Postmates, just in case none of them want to go out to grab something to eat. That way they get their food and he gets his blood all in one go.

The only other apps this man would use regularly are streaming apps (e.g. Netflix, Hulu, Tubi, etc.) cause the man is a movie buff.

Binges new seasons of shows he likes in two nights, maybe one if it's a shorter season with fewer episodes. He will stay up into the daytime, because you can't just stop right before the finale--

Marko tried to convince him to get Instagram but he adamantly refuses, but he did end up getting a Snapchat only to communicate with the boys in a fun way. He rarely (if ever) uses it, and every time he gets a photo from Paul he is only that more convinced that it was a mistake to download it in the first place.

Dwayne

Is a texter through and through. If you call him you're most likely going to get his voicemail, because unless he has your number, he is not answering.

Is similar to David in that he also probably doesn’t use very many apps, but he does use more than David does.

Likes to play mobile games when he has some spare time, but not just any mobile games; this man likes puzzle games, relaxing games, games that he doesn’t need to think too hard about.

Some of his favorites include Solitaire, Lets Create! Pottery, Mahjong, Taptiles, and Bejeweled.

He really values this time, because even if his brothers are being a borderline nuisance around him, he can zone into his games and become involved in something that won’t cause his muscles to tense up every five minutes.

Dwayne uses YouTube the most, though, because the number of videos he can watch on any topic he wants is damn near endless.

I headcanon that if the boys had a working kitchen of some sort in the cave Dwayne would love to cook in it. That being said, he would start off by looking up cooking videos and recipes on YouTube because people are creative with cooking on there.

But then one day a video is suggested to him that is apparently vintage footage from the 1920′s, enhanced in 4K. And his curiosity will be peaked because hey! He remembers the 1920′s! He clicks on it and is amazed at how clear the video is.

Vintage videos quickly become his favorite videos to watch because he can, in a way, go back in time and relive it. He could watch hours upon hours of these videos, and sometimes he’ll even get David to watch a few with him and they’ll reminisce about good memories together.

Paul

Paul is a caller and a texter, and whichever he uses will depend on where he is and what he’s doing. Good luck actually getting ahold of him, though, because his phone is almost always on vibrate.

It’s just annoying to hear his ringtone and notifications go off when he’s at a concert, or a live show, or making out with some hottie under the pier.

Is the kind of texter that sends individual texts anytime he has a thought. He just wants to make sure you know what he has to say before you respond and because he doesn’t want to spend the time typing out big paragraphs.

Uses the most apps out of all the boys.

Paul also uses YouTube quite a bit, because where else is he going to watch all his favorite music videos? He’ll also watch bootlegs of old concerts he’s seen or didn’t get a chance to see and wanted to.

He makes it a point to send David a snapchat at least every other night to just let him know that he hasn’t done anything majorly illegal. David always sends back a photo of whatever is in front of him and some sort of sentence insinuating that he “hates this goddamn app.”

But! Paul’s favorite app of all is the Soundcloud app, and I think we all know why.

There are just so many great indie bands on there! He avidly follows his favorites on any social media he has. He’s got to know if they ever come to Santa Carla or the next city over, because if he can catch their show he is there.

100% uses dating apps, but only for one night stands that always turn into his next meal; has tried to convince the others that this is a great way to lure in prey, and has only successfully gotten Marko to hop on this bandwagon (though he only uses it for easy dinner).

Marko

Marko is also both a caller and a texter, but he prefers to text more because it gives him time to think of what he wants to say.

Texts in large paragraphs because he thinks the individual texts are annoying, but it works out because Marko is the fastest texter out of all the boys.

Instagram is his go-to, baby. He follows all of his favorite artists, musicians, and of course, Paul, because neither David or Dwayne have Instagram.

He gets so inspired by seeing his favorite artists' work, and enjoys discovering new artists as well, because Marko knows that inspiration comes from all over.

But when they start selling prints of their work on Etsy, it leads him down a whole other rabbit hole.

Etsy nearly becomes an addiction. Because Marko could scroll through people’s work for hours. Original paintings? Hand-crafted goods? Unique clothing pieces? Marko has at least ten collections full of items that he wants to buy because he has zero self-control when it comes to these things.

Most likely to have to be monitored because of his Etsy addiction, or else their funds will be drained in 30 minutes.

As previously stated, Marko will use dating apps to catch his prey from time to time. He never uses it for sex or finding a serious relationship, oh no; he knows he’s hot, and dating apps just make it easier for singles in his area to flock to him, making him and Paul have some of the easiest times grabbing a bite to eat. However, he does still like to hunt in person to keep his skills intact.

[batarella]

I Don’t Hate You - Part 3 (Jason Todd x Reader)

OKAY LEMME TELL YOU ALL I’VE NEVER POSTED ANYTHING THIS LONG. AND I’VE NEVER SMILED SO MUCH WHILE WRITING A SINGLE FIC IN MY LIFE. IT’S 2K WORDS LONGER THAN THE COMMANDER FINALE. TALK ABOUT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

REMEMBER WHY JADE WEST WAS SO ICONIC IN VICTORIOUS? READ ON!

WORDS: A WHOPPING 7404 WORDS FOR A SINGLE PART OF A SERIES WARNINGS: NEVER HAD THIS MUCH FLUFF IN MY LIFE

Masterlist

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-----

Hands flat on Ms. Peterson’s desk, you flashed the brightest fake smile you could. She looked up from her computer, probably the fifth round of solitaire for the day, and cocked up an eyebrow. She did not at all look amused at you storming in.

But you’ve been in the library for twenty minutes and this woman has not given you anything to do to keep you in here.

“Listen, Ms. Peterson. As much as we just love hanging out in this outdated hellhole, I’d rather we go home than just sit here and do nothing for the next hour and a half.”

Her shaky hands didn’t flinch. And she turned her attention back at her screen.

“I’m told to keep you in here for another eight weeks. I’ve had this job for fifty years and I’m not about to lose it to two whiny brats.”

“She’s the only whiny brat here, Ms. P.” Jason rested his elbows on the desk and leaned over beside you. “If you let us out, it’ll be our little secret. C’mon.”

Obviously, that sort of trick works for Jason more times than it would for any ordinary person. But Ms. Peterson was not the one to charm with. And she had the same, dead look in her eye when she turned her head at the young man.

“Sit. Down.”

“What the hell are we supposed to do?”

“I don’t care. Just get your asses on those chairs and sit. Oh look! A person in need of service. There’s your job. Go do it.”

Only one guy was standing behind you. You snarled at him, eyes narrowed. You were almost growling beneath your breath which made him visibly stand back. Jason looked at him over his shoulder with less fear factor but with the same annoyance.

The sight of you both made him almost piss his pants.

“Uhm,” he gulped. “Can you please show me where sci fi books are at?”

You cocked up an eyebrow, glancing at your nails before nudging Jason with your shoulder. He grunted at you, giving you that same ‘I really fucking hate you’ look on his face he’s practically embedded onto his own skin by now. You shrugged, looking back at your nails. Then Jason stood straight and held the guy by the shoulder.

“Go through that aisle. Third shelf from the right.”

“He asked you to go with him, Todd.”

His glare on you was really starting to show. “He can find it himself.”

The poor guy gulped and viciously nodded to agree with Jason. He walked away, making sure not to catch your eye. You lifted your elbows from the librarian’s desk and spared the old lady another snarky look, to which she didn’t even bother to notice. Both of you sitting back on the empty table, Jason placed his arm crossed over the other on the surface and leaned his head over to at least try having a nap. His hair was all sprawled out. You, on the other hand, leaned back, head hanging on your neck, and closing your eyes hoping time would fly by faster that way.

It didn’t.

Two weeks. It had been two fucking weeks. And yet, you were far from being halfway through this macabre series of events. Why couldn’t you have just punched that Maxwell kid in the face? Or threatened to murder him in his sleep? Anything else would have been better. Anything that would’ve landed you in an entirely different situation than to be stuck here with an old woman stricter than a Belle Reeves prison guard.

You could either look at the windows out the library, find a book and actually read one of them (though if they had any more of Poe’s you’d likely get your hands on them).

Or just stare at the eye candy in front of you.

Your smirk was less obvious when you glanced over the veins on his large, muscled arms, folded on top of the other with his skin stretched. His thick, black hair that was long enough to cover most of his forehead, now sticking onto his arm. His neck that was long and thick, his thin shirt and how even more lean muscles would pop out when he’d unintentionally flex. You often caught sight of his stomach when he’d reach over a shelf that was at the top most level, and the ‘V’ shape on his skin was more than eminent enough for you to picture. He wasn’t absolutely huge, especially since he was just 17. But he was definitely fit.

You wouldn’t mind looking at that for a while. Not until he starts talking, anyway. For long minutes, that was what you did, then you got bored.

The tip of your boots kicked his shin under the table. He jumped up, startled, almost growling at you with dark bags under his eyes.

“The fuck do you want now?”

“Someone’s a bit angsty today,” your evil little smirk ticked off another of his nerves. You could tell. He let out a large sigh, started leaning back against the back of his chair, then spread out his arms behind his head to stretch.

Ooooooh shit. There is was. The veins.

“I didn’t sleep last night.” Jason finished stretching and went back to lean against the table. “You done gawking?”

“Cute.” You scrunched up your face to mock him. “I’m bored.”

“And what am I supposed to do with that?”

“Help me sneak out of here.”

“Two weeks here. You think I haven’t tried sneaking out once or twice? That woman’s got the eye of a fucking hawk.”

“Is there any other way out of here?”

“I doubt it.”

Your groan was indefinitely long, stretching the back of your neck when you opted to reach for your phone.

“I’m at three percent.”

Jason took out his own phone. “Mine’s at five.”

“That blackout from last night reach your monster mansion, too?”

He snarled at you and rolled his eyes. “Bruce has generators to power up the whole place when we need it.”

“Then why are you at five percent?”

“Because I’ve been tinkering on this sorry little fucker the last thirty minutes.” He held it up with just his fingers. It had a cracked screen. It looked too old to even be used. “Battery drains faster than my patience.”

“Can’t your new rich dad buy you another one?”

“He did. I don’t wanna use it. Just doesn’t feel like mine.”

“Ah. You're one of those guys. ‘My parents are rich, not me’ kind of dudes. You’re all the same kinds of annoying.”

“I don’t act all high and mighty, for your information.”

“I’m just saying,” you raised your arms up. “If I were you’d I’d at least enjoy his wealth. It’s stupid if you don’t take advantage of things you clearly already have.””

He silently shook his head and looked to the side like you wouldn’t understand even if you tried. Scoffing, you turned away, and you caught the eye of Maxwell, who had a sling on his arm still.

“Holy fuck,” you reached for your bag. “I can't believe I fucking forgot.”

“What?”

Pouring out the contents, you mumbled. “Help me with this thing and I swear I owe you a huge favor.”

“I think watching you wallow in your pain would be more worth my time.”

“That sounds more like my line. You’re taking after me. Good. And I’d say likewise if I wasn’t so desperate, Todd.” You started pouring out pieces of paper, a bottle of glue, and a pair of the largest scissors Jason’s ever seen.

“Is that-“

“The scissors that sent that guy to therapy?” You pointed at Maxwell. “Yes. Yes they are.”

“Jesus.” He took it from your hands. “No fucking wonder.”

“Stop ogling and help me.”

“What the fuck are you supposed to do?”

“Remember the project that kid spilled his coffee on? This is it. I finished it that day and now I have to do it all over again. They gave me another two weeks to do it and I completely forgot about it until now. I’m supposed to make a stained-glass kind of picture. But with cutting pieces of colored paper.”

Jason took the paper you had on the table.

“These are all white, black, gray, and one sheet that’s dark red.”

You shrugged. “I like working with those colors. Now help me. I wanna do this.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a saved photo of one you’d like to copy. He almost jumped out of his seat when you suddenly showed him a picture of a deranged clown with a big red nose, a smile much larger than half his face, and eyes dark and dwelling enough to give him nightmares.

“I wanna know what type of dark shit you’re on.”

“It’s just a clown.”

“I am not helping you on your little art project.”

“Please.” Your hands were down, your eyes widened but not the threatening kind. And your voice, it was definitely the softest he’s ever heard it. Twitching an eyebrow like he was watching your every move, Jason didn’t flinch.

He looked at the clock. Then back at you with his eyeballs rolled all the way around.

“You’re lucky I literally have nothing better to do.”

You propped your shoulders up and gave him a black piece of paper and a pair of scissors. “Great. Cut these into the shapes I drew here.”

A disgruntled groan and a sharp snatch from your hands, Jason looked just as cranky as you usually were. It was amusing. He glared at you and you just smiled back. “Thanks, Jay.”

“Shut up and get to work.”

Your eyes lingered a bit longer on him, even when he’d started to fiddle with your too-large scissors, and you rolled your eyes with a bit of a smile.

“What’s making you so grumpy today?”

He didn’t bother looking up at you. His brows were all scrunched up as he cut the black piece of paper.

“I told you. I didn’t get to sleep last night. I was… out. Why are you grumpy all the time?”

You squinted your eyes at him then went to work. Carefully, he went through the first paper and gave you the shapes you wanted. You set aside your own batch and you took out the larger, white paper on which you’d glue it all on.

“Okay. Give me the shapes.”

You took out the glue and started pouring it on the paper.

“You’re doing it all wrong.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“You clearly don’t.” He snatched it from you and started wiping the glue off with his finger, spreading it around. “I can't believe I’m fucking doing this.”

“And what are you doing exactly?” you snarled.

“Pouring the glue in will make it all sticky. You should’ve traced over the outer lines so it wouldn’t crumple.”

“I know that.” You took the glue away from him again, then placed the shape onto the paper. “One down.”

“Fucking kill me now.”

“Keep cutting. I’ll handle the glue.”

“Do it right, then.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He started again with your scissors and went back to snipping off the pieces of paper. Gluing the shapes one by one, you started taking out a red marker and traced the outlines to mimic the flow of blood.

Jason stared at it, then at you, eyes wide with disbelief, then went back to his scissors.

“Excuse me,” a girl went up to you. A freshman, you could tell. “That lady told me you could show me to the young adult section?”

“No. Go away.”

You kept with your glue, not even looking at the girl who just stared at you awkwardly. Jason pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep, long sigh. “Go down that aisle. Fifth shelf. Down the very end.”

“Uh. Thanks.” She walked over to where Jason was pointing at. You still didn’t look up from your work. And instead, watched on as Jason continued with cutting the shapes. “You need to chill.”

“Finish those up. That’s the last one.”

Jason rolled his eyes even more, angrily cutting through the pieces of red paper the size of the clown’s big red nose. He dropped the scissors onto the table and just continued to watch you gluing the pieces together with way too much glue.

He gave you no warning before grabbing the glue bottle from you and the shapes, stretching his arm out so you can't reach them.

“TODD.”

“YOU’RE RUINING THE WHOLE THING.”

“NO, I’M NOT.” You cursed with his name and stood up from your chair, reaching out with your arms all the way to him while he desperately wiped off the excess glue for your sake. “GIVE THAT BACK.”

“SIT DOWN.” He cried back at you.

You heard the shrillest shush Ms. Peterson has ever made, before you went back to fumbling with Jason. Your table was at the far end, and she was no longer at your line of sight. He held your wrist, wiping off the rest of the glue, then finally handed the bottle back to you. Putting the shapes onto the paper, you groaned when you slumped back on the chair.

“It looks horrible,” he tried to stifle a laugh.

“Fuck you.”

“At least you’re almost done, right?”

“You put the glue on the shapes then, genius. I’ll paste them on.”

Grumbling with his deep voice, he took the glue bottle and swiped the shapes back over to him. Using thin, barely visible lines, he was so stingy with the glue you wanted to tear your hair out.

“That won't even stick to a fly trap.”

“You want your work to look all crumpled? Go ahead.”

“Just put a bit more.”

“I have the fucking glue bottle,” his eyebrows were raised. “You sit there and wait for me, then you stick them yourself. Start with this.”

He slammed a shape onto the table and you took it, careful not to hit your fingers with the glue. Biting into your gums, you wondered how you’ll be able to handle yet another eight weeks with his kid.

Your bickering didn’t even stop there. It went on, and Jason had to cut even more shapes to make up for some that were far too small. He was practically yelling at this point, and you weren’t about to get yelled at and not respond.

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CUT THEM, DINGUS.”

“HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THE RIGHT FUCKING SIZE.”

“I GAVE YOU THE PATTERN. YOU ONLY HAD TO FOLLOW IT.”

“WELL I WOULD HAVE IF YOUR SCISSORS WEREN’T SO DAMN BIG.”

“THEY’RE THE BEST PAIR IN EXISTENCE. YOU JUST CAN'T HANDLE IT.”

“I THINK I CAN HANDLE A PAIR OF SCISSORS.”

“THEN WHY CAN'T YOU CUT BETTER THAN A FUCKING SEVEN-YEAR-OLD.”

“’CUZ THEY DON’T HAVE A FUCKING PARROT SCREAMING AT THEM EVERY FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES.”

The silent yelling didn’t stop. At the end, your voices were too loud that Ms. Peterson would’ve eventually shushed you for the last time and probably throw her slipper at you. Thankfully, she’d gone out to the bathroom and you were left alone.

Everyone else had left. It was almost 5 pm, and you refused to go if your project still wasn’t finished.

“This. Is. The worst day. Of my entire life. And I used to live in the streets.”

“You're not going anywhere. Stay.”

A deep, agonizingly painful groan. He slumped onto the table and buried his face into his arms. “Why can't you just kill me?”

Another set of long minutes, with your attention directly at the glue and scraping off the excess to make it look presentable. It didn’t actually look that bad. The second set of cut shapes were just the right size. Jason didn’t bother looking up. He might have even fallen asleep with you being silent for the longest time since you got there.

No one was left in the library, and it was just starting to get dark.

“Aaaaand THERE.” You placed the finished project onto the table and clapped your hands together in a grinning happiness. Jason, on the other hand, looked as good as dead.

“You may go.”

“You owe me fucking big time, kid.”

You smirked at him when he violently pushed his chair back, grabbed his backpack and went out for the door. You took your time, especially since going home late didn’t seem like such a drag anymore when Dad moved back in. You carefully slipped your collage into your folder and slung your bag over your shoulder.

Jason was still standing in front of the door, hand frozen on the handle you pushed him away and turned it, only for your hand to come at an abrupt stop and the sound of gears halting its turn.

“Where the fuck is Mother Goose?”

“The bathroom-“

But she wasn’t at the bathroom. Unless Ms. Peterson took her large purse and computer along with her to the toilet, she probably wasn’t in there.

“Are we-“

“There has to be a key here.” Jason rummaged through the librarian’s desk. Every drawer he could forcefully pull out, he did.

You pulled out your phone, which was a dead 0%, the image of a drained-out battery staring back at you, and that’s when you started to feel the panic slowly rise. You rushed to the library’s telephone, but you couldn’t even hear a dial tone. The phone was off. Jason’s phone was probably just as dead.

You rushed to the lights to turn them on, but nothing happened.

Fuck. Another blackout. FUCK.

“No key,” he rested his hands on the table. “Shit. FUCK.”

You only stared at each other, feeling that panic start to settle in when you realized you were out of options.

“M-Maybe. Your dad will come pick us up?”

Jason shook his head. “The last time I ran away for the night, he said he wasn’t gonna go around Gotham to pick me up anymore.” He looked at you. “Your parents?”

“Said the exact same thing.”

Your back hit the wall, and you slid down with your head up in the ceiling. Both silent. None of you even said it out loud.

Jason looked like he wanted to scream.

-----

You laid on your back, flat against the table, with just your arm over your eyes to shield it from the light posts outside the window on the driveway. You tried to drown out Jason’s fiddling with his lock pick and the door handle. Two hours had passed, and you’d barely gone by the evening.

“That’s not gonna work.”

“You have a better option, Lydia Deetz?”

You clenched your jaw and sneered. “You’ve been at it for an hour.”

“I’m almost through this.” He kept with his pick, a hairpin he found on the ground which he spent another hour looking for. “Juuuust- THERE!”

You shot up from the table, feet landing enthusiastically onto the floor and you sprinted to Jason’s back. “Here’s to freedom.”

Too eagerly, he turned the handle and pulled the door with a victorious grin.

Only for his hand to jolt at another abrupt stop. The door wouldn’t budge, only peering open through an inch. The grin on his face was immediately lost, and he almost feel out of his feet when you violently pushed him away, pulling on the door yourself and failing.

You could see the deadbolt, but something outside was holding the double doors from opening, no matter which one you pulled on.

“That batshit crazy old witch,” you growled. “Fucking chain locked the door.”

A loud, frustrated groan from Jason as he threw the hairpin to the ground like he would’ve a knife. “WHO CHAIN LOCKS A LIBRARY?”’

You walked away from the door, going back to the tables so you could bend over and stuff your face into your hands. Jason was even more of a mess.

Your dad started his first big fight with mom since he moved back in last night, just when you thought they’d finalized the divorce, he squirms back in. And your room was never far enough to drown out their screams.

That night you wished you were somewhere else. And you ended up somewhere even worse.

Jason was sitting on the floor, back flat against the wall, and his eyes were shut close while you laid back down on top of the table.

“I’m hungry.”

“The fuck you want me to do about that?” Jason kept his eyes shut.

“You got any food?”

“No.”

“Don’t you have something in your bag?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“You think you can stab me with those scissors? ‘Cuz I feel like choking on my own blood right now.”

You rolled over so you were laying on your stomach. Craning your head up to look at Jason, your chin resting on your fingers, you grinned. “I’d rather not spend the night being stuck with your rotting flesh. I’ll kill you in the morning.”

Jason screamed into his hands. “We are not gonna be stuck here until fucking morning.”

“Either you die tonight still in denial or we actually try to survive. Now do you have anything in your bag or what?”

He didn’t give in to picking out his bag without leaving you a dark glare. The sky was completely dark by now. And the only light source you had were three lamp posts outside the window. The power was still off, which meant it was going to be this dark the whole fucking night.

“Would you look at that?” He took out a small protein bar from his smaller pocket. “Forgot that was there.”

You jumped off the table again. “Great. I’m starving.”

You walked too fast to Jason, who immediately stood up and hold you by the shoulder, raising his hand away from your reach. “Ey. Mine. From my bag, remember?”

“I don’t have anything in mine!” you reached and tried to push him, but had no luck against his strength. “Come on!”

“I have way more body mass than you. I need this.”

You pursed your lips, glowering at him even when you knew he still wouldn’t budge. He kept pushing your shoulder from him until you backed away reluctantly.

“WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO EAT?”

You whined and grunted with your back hitting the wall. Jason stepped away facing you and opened the protein bar, took a large bite that left it with almost a third of the whole thing left.

“You know. That thing with the scissors stuck into your neck doesn’t seem like a bad idea anymore.” You grumbled.

Chewing profusely at the bar, he folded his one arm over his chest and smirked while watching you silently grovel in annoyance. You leaned on your side and made sure he wouldn’t hear your stomach starting to growl.

“Fine,” he groaned. “Here.”

A little over a quarter of the protein bar left. Jason handed it over to you and you gritted your teeth.

“There’s barely anything left, you bile-headed twat.”

“You want me to finish it?”

Snatching the bar away from him, you cursed under your breath right before you gobbled up what was left of the snack. It did little to nothing to make you feel less hungry, but at least you weren’t going to die.

“You're welcome.”

You threw the wrapper onto the floor and went back to sitting on the table. “Got anymore bright ideas?”

“Maybe if you’d help, I’d actually be able to tolerate you.”

Jason walked over to the classics shelf, pulled out a book and did the same as you. He swung his legs over on top of the table across you, bringing his knees up so he could rest his elbows on them. He then opened his book.

“You're reading,” you bit your gums. “You’re actually reading at a time like this.”

“What else are we supposed to do in a fucking library?”

Your hands met the surface of the table behind you and you threw your head back. “We have at least until the power comes back on. GOD, this place in insufferable.”

“Never mind the helping. You shutting up would be enough not to drive me insane.”

“And you're less of an ass when you're not a grouch, dickhead.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

The vein on your forehead started to throb. You weren’t tired yet, and you wouldn’t be able to sleep at this hour even if you tried. You rolled around the table, desperate for any position that wouldn’t drive your limbs numb.

You jolted when you heard Jason curse.

“This fucking lamp post’s too dim. Can't even see shit.”

He set the book aside, laid down on his back and watched the ceiling with you.

“How did we even get locked up?”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep me captive with that stupid clown project for three hours we wouldn’t be in the mess.”

“So it’s my fault now? You're the one who fell asleep!”

“How could you have possibly missed the time? You know the library closes at five!”

“I didn’t fucking know that! I leave before that old witch does every time!”

“Just-.” Jason shut his eyes. “Can we stop screaming for ONE SECOND? Especially since we’re gonna stuck here the whole night?!”

The mocking noise you made was almost inhuman. Jason didn’t bother snarling back.

You saw a car pass by, the headlights shining through the window for the shortest moment. You kneeled on the table and waved your arms around.

“HEY. GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The car kept moving, and the headlights passed through the whole of the window until it left. You slumped back to lay down and groaned. “Fuck everything.”

You grabbed your bag, rummaging through everything inside just to find anything to do or anything that could possibly help you. Nothing. Not even a fan to cool you off when you started to feel the temperature rise.

“Did you call the number I gave you?”

You licked your teeth. “I used the piece of paper you gave me as a bookmark.”

Jason lifted his arm off his head. “No shame in asking for help.”

“I told you, I’m not being fucking abused.” You started picking on the leather of your boots, tracing along the creases of where your toes folded. “I don’t know what the hell made you think I was.”

“It doesn’t have to be actual physical abuse,” he sat up on his elbows.

“You really wanna make us feel uncomfortable? Why do you come to school with bruises all the time?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m not gonna fucking tell you, Y/LN.”

“Fine. Then let’s not talk about this.”

You had that usual condescending tone, but you didn’t sound like you were on the verge of lashing out. You sounded like you were pleading, even. Jason bit his lower lip. “Okay. What do you wanna talk about? It’s too early to sleep.”

You brought your knees up to sit cross legged and you leaned in on your elbows.

“Wanna play a game?”

Jason drummed his fingers on the table and sighed. “What?”

You scooched closer to him and swung your legs over the edge of the table. He did the same and faced you. “Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand, Todd. Don’t be a pussy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Then give me your hand.”

Jason snorted, leaning his elbow over his lap and giving his other hand over to you. You took it, smiling at him, then gripping firmly onto his wrist. “Make a fist.”

He fisted his hand and you could see a few veins pop out on his arm. You started rubbing the outside of his fingers. His eyes scrunched up, watching you. “Open your hand.”

He opened it, then you lightly slapped it with your own palm. “Fist,” you said again. He breathed and pulled it again to a fist. You repeated your first action with a growing smirk. “If I come out of this with one hand left-“

“Shut up. Open again.”

He opened his palm. And with a single finger, you tapped onto the center of his hand, then released your grip on his wrist.

Jason widened his eyes, amused. “It tingles.”

“I know right.” You folded your arms.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“That’s a secret.”

He then reached out his other hand to you. “Do it again.”

You laughed and snorted before grabbing his wrist, rubbed his fingers the same way you did the first time. Jason leaned over closer to look at your movements, and his nose was all scrunched up like it would when he was focused on a book. The corner of your mouth lifted, then you tapped his hand with your finger and let go.

“What sorcery is this?”

You shrugged, leaning back and folding your arms. “You have any tricks of your own?”

“Yes I do,” he said, swinging his legs over the edge of the table. “Hold out your hand.”

You did so without hesitation. Jason held your fist, then looked straight at you. “Pick a finger and don’t tell me what it is.”

“Okay?” Your ring finger. Easy enough.

“Look straight into my eyes. Don’t look down.”

You rolled your eyes slightly to the side, licking the inside of your teeth, then did as told.

He was looking straight at you, not even trying to blink. A smirk formed on his lips, and his eyes had that same flick of a glare, but there was a little shine on them from the dim lamp post. You shook your head while still maintaining eye contact and felt his other hand start toying with your fingers.

“It’s your ring finger.”

“Huh,” you shuffled closer to him. “Do it again. I wanna watch your hands.”

“No. You have to look straight at my eyes.”

“Fine. Just do it again. I’ll pay more attention.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and you both tried your best to hold back emerging bursts of laughter while he continued to toy with your fingers and trying not to blink.

“You're not choosing a finger.” He said.

“Not true. You just suck.”

It was true. You forgot to choose a finger. The middle finger this time. You shifted your focus, but the way he’d try to hold back a laugh made you choke. “Stop laughing.”

“I’m not.” He so was. You felt him touch your fingers, moving around them one by one. “You’re trying to look for movements.”

“Nope. It’s the middle finger.” He kept at it. Over and over, with you refusing to admit he read your mind.

His hands started feeling warmer each time. You didn’t know you noticed.

-----

A bustling, screeching noise of a cart being hauled around the room for the past ten minutes. You’ve been here for five hours. You were tired, starving, and sweating. You covered most of your face and ears with your hands, but the cart’s noises just kept going.

You shot up from the table. “DUDE. STOP.”

You normally had more insults to scream at him, but at that point of the night, you were all out.

Jason kept going and ignored you. Starting from one end of the library, he pushed the handles of the empty cart, accelerating it with his feet. When he gained the momentum, he placed his feet on the metal and rode it across the room. “Real mature.”

“Don’t be an old hag.”

He accelerated again from the opposite end, then climbed on. Jason went faster this time and just narrowly missed a shelf.

“There’s another cart right there if you have the balls to join me.”

You placed your weight on your arm, watching Jason sprint from one end of the room to the next. With a loud grunt, knowing you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, you jumped off the table.

You emptied the cart from the remaining books and pushed it to Jason’s side, who waited for you just by the shelves. “Jump when it speeds up.”

“I know what to do.”

He laughed. “Race you to the other side.”

You gripped on the handle firmly, watching the end of the room, the one lined with heavy bookshelves, and readied yourself. “GO.”

You sprinted the two carts and grabbed on with your life as you sped down the large enough room, feeling the air slightly cooler when it was rushing past your skin and hair. You laughed playfully, stopping just before you hit the shelf. “I win.”

“Are you kidding me? I was waiting for you.”

“One more lap.”

“You’re on.”

Again, you sped past the room. You held onto one side of the handle too hard and accidentally hit Jason’s cart, both of you almost tumbling to the ground. “I call foul!”

“It was an accident!” you laughed, then took the cart again to finish the lap. He caught up with you and you no longer stopped in between, continuously sprinting and jumping onto the metal all across the room. You rode past the shelves, the narrow aisles, narrowly missing the books. You almost hit the tables with the carts and you definitely hit the wall too hard when you stopped too late. Jason was trailing right beside you, then he went about his own route.

That’s when he purposefully hit the front your cart with your own, throwing you off on the ground. “FUCK”

He laughed too hard. “Come on. I have another game.”

Holding his hand out to you, you grabbed on and he pulled you up to your feet. You stood close to him, both of you still laughing. And you were staring too long at his face being close to yours. You pulled away from his lingering grip, looking at the ground.

Setting his own cart aside, he pulled on yours, settling it between the aisle of the shelves. It went straight through the longest path down the room, and you’d have to be lucky to miss the shelves. “Hop on.”

“Todd, if you throw me out the window-“

“Come on. Don’t be a pussy.”

You felt the rush, and you liked how free you felt rushing through the air. You climbed into the cart, grabbing hold of the edges and focused on the end of the room.

Jason leaned in to your ear. “Don’t scream.”

“JASON.”

He was incredibly strong, pushing you in the cart like you weighed nothing and sped through the room faster than he previously had. The cart was growling and was so ready to break apart, but you never felt that kind of thrill since you last rode a coaster. You definitely screamed, a high-pitched shriek you know Jason must never mention to anyone, ever. But you were also laughing your stomach out when Jason turned you around, sped to the other end again. And this time, his feet jumping onto the cart.

You threw your head back, laughing, then you caught a glimpse of his face flashing the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

Your laughter came to an abrupt stop when he stopped the cart too late and crashed against the shelf. You both stood still, watching it toppling like an unsteady jenga tower.

Holding your breath, you heard books fall to the floor, then the shaking mellowed down and you released your breaths when it finally stopped. Turning to Jason and falling into the cart laughing, you clutched at your stomach. “JESUS CHRIST.”

“Not funny!” he cried out, but even he was stifling a laugh. He walked over to the front and placed the books into the cart with you. Some fell on your lap, and you took the books from him and placed them to your side.

“At least we have something to do now.”

“Yeah. Especially since you put these books in the wrong shelf. These belong over there.” He pointed to a shelf nearby.

“Let’s fix it then,” you said, still not moving from the cart. He placed all the books from the floor onto you and moved the cart to the corner.

“You’re heavy.”

“Shut up. From now on, we shelf books this way.” You took a book from your lap and gave it to him, who placed the book in its right place.

“Top shelf,” you smirked.

“I know where to put them.” He took it from your hand and shoved it in place. You didn’t have many books to begin with, but even after that, he continued to push the cart, with you still hitching a ride, and you walked around the library to just look at all the books.

“Everything’s in the right section.”

“Because of me. You made a shit ton of mistakes.”

You threw your head back, looking at him. And from that angle you could see his glare turn into a smile. You leaned against the back of the cart, your head lightly touching his arm.

When you’ve managed to tour the whole library, you sat up.

“You're turn. Get in here.”

Jason wanted to laugh at that. “You’d never be able to lift me.”

“Watch me try.”

You hopped off the cart, pushing him aside from the handle. He shook his head, but eventually climbed on like you had. He was bigger than you, so he looked a lot more uncomfortable with his knees folded way up and his arms barely fitting inside the cart.

He was really heavy. But you managed. Pushing the cart slowly at first, Jason leaned in to the left side to steer you off. “Jason!”

“I see stray books. Go over there.”

You pushed the cart with whatever might you had. When you reached the desk, Jason took the books you previously set aside and placed them on his lap. “Braille,” he said. “These go all the way to the back.”

“I can handle this. I’m a big girl.”

You pushed the cart, eventually gaining speed, but it wasn’t nearly as fast as when he’d pushed you around. You reached the far back, with two sharp turns that nearly killed your back, then stopped with a loud breath.

“You're right. We should do this more often.”

You were panting by that time, and Jason handed you the books to place on the shelf. “Chop chop.”

-----

Two fucking am. The power was still out. Jason was definitely going to call the electricity company when you both get out of here. You were sat cross legged on one side of the long, narrow table, fiddling with your sleeves since you couldn’t sleep. He was laying on the same table but facing the opposite way, closing his eyes and feeling the beginnings of light slumber. His back was going to kill him eventually, but when the rush from that cart fiasco died down, he was so awfully tired.

Jason laid his head on his arm, closing his eyes as tightly as he could.

Then a warm, soothing melody started to buzz through his ears, a tune he’s never quite heard of before. His eyelids suddenly grew softer, feeling the humming song vibrate through him.

Where was it coming from?

He slowly opened his eyes, trying to find the source. Jason craned his head up to you, with your back turned to him, and realized you were the one humming.

You turned to him, and he went back to closing his eyes, pretending to sleep. “Jason?” you lightly asked, not enough to wake him if he was actually asleep. You turned your back around and crouched over to relax.

He wasn’t sleeping anymore, but he kept closing his eyes. A little while later, with you thinking he wasn’t conscious, he heard you actually start to sing.

 You got a fast car

I want a ticket to anywhere

Maybe we make a deal

Maybe together we can get somewhere

Anyplace is better

Starting from zero got nothing to lose

Maybe we'll make something

Me, myself I got nothing to prove

 Then you paused. Your voice was so soft and light, he never would’ve have heard it if there was anyone else in the room or if he wasn’t awake. You never would’ve sung if you knew he was, though.

You had the most beautiful voice he’s ever heard in his life.

 You got a fast car

I got a plan to get us out of here

I been working at the convenience store

Managed to save just a little bit of money

Won't have to drive too far

Just 'cross the border and into the city

You and I can both get jobs

And finally see what it means to be living

 Your voice was low, a beautiful, vibrating low. An alto. And there was that deep, breathy growl when you reached the lower notes with ease. A light vibrato at the end of the vowels, and there was that drowsy, slow feel to it that just made it seem like you didn’t make that much effort at all. At some points, you whispered the words, like your everyday screaming never affected your vocal chords at all.

There was a tug at his chest, his face started to burn up. He was wide awake by now, and there was that thudding within him that was too hard to ignore. And it worsened each time you breathed out the end of the verses.

You managed to finish the song, and by then, he was a mess.

You didn’t sing anything more, no matter how much he wished you would. He ended up fighting his tiredness, just in case he’d miss another song.

But right before he drifted to sleep, he realized he’d been smiling his cheeks off.

-----

Twelve hours.

You were stuck in the library.

For twelve fucking hours.

Both of you shot up from the table the moment you heard the chains outside the door clink to the ground. You and Jason raced out the door, and before the security guard could totally open it, you violently pushed it aside and raced out into the wide-open space of the driveway outside the gates. The poor guard looked puzzlingly at you. But since he was too old to care or even ask about what happened, he shrugged it off.

The cool air felt heavenly against your skin, and the bright sun, smiling back at you against your face. You spread your arms out and took in the breeze as much as you could. Jason was fanning himself with the collar of his shirt, raising his arms up the same way you were. “AHHHHH.” He screamed. And you did the same. The frustration went out the window as fast as you’d ran.

“FUCKING FINALLY.”

“THAT IS NEVER HAPPENING AGAIN.”

“NEVER.”

You faced the sky, still taking the deep, fresh intakes of air. Jason placed his hands on his hips and ruffled his sweat covered hair.

“Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“Agreed,” you said. “Not even Ms. Peterson.”

“Not a single soul.”

You both faced each other, raising your brows, no longer from a glare or out of annoyance. Your body felt light. Your chest felt lighter. You were smiling.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Kudos to us for surviving.”

A high five. And you both laughed, still feeling that flush of relief flow throughout your limbs. No one was in school yet. It was Saturday, though. No one but a few of the faculty members were going to show up.

But the sky looked pink, mixed with a bright yellowish orange. The driveway never looked so clean, and the breeze was so wonderfully cold, with the autumn leaves still floating on the grass and the roads, you just felt happy. Your lingering gaze on Jason helped with that bright smile.

As if twelve hours in the library was nothing. As if it wasn’t torture at all.

As if it was, in fact, the most fun you’ve had in a single night in a long, long time.

“Walk safe.”

“Bye, Todd.”

Walking towards opposite ends of the sidewalk, hands on your sides and not in your pockets like you usually would. You couldn’t stop grinning.

Sparing one last glance behind you, seeing him get on his motorcycle, you turned to the corner of the street.

-----

I DON’T HATE YOU - MASTERLIST

-------

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH PLS TELL ME YOU ENJOYED THAT CUZ I CERTAINLY DID

THE SINGING SCENE IS REALLY INSPIRED BY LIZ GILLIES (REMEMBER THE READER IS BASED ON JADE WEST) SO THE FAST CAR SINGING SCENE WAS ACTUALLY INSPIRED BY THIS VIDEO

Taglist: everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc @multifandoms916 @icequeen208@offendedfishnoises @egdolan @xemiefx @arkhamtoddler @elsenthal@mythicbitchx @supremehaunter @ burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nugget http-cherries shadowsndaisies 

[fromthewifecage]

Never Trust  A Cowboy With A Computer (AKA: Erron Black/Female reader smut)

I’ve had a lot of issues with this, I’ve had to edit the hell out of it, changing a bunch in the 1st chapter, so please reread Chapter 1 before jumping into the smut that is Chapter 2. It’s over 5k words, and it’ll be posted over on my AO3  https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeltAutomaton in a bit if you want to be extra kind and go give me kudos there :D Thank you again to @tomoka0013 @gojihime99 and @malicedragoness for your encouragement and all your help *blows kisses* Hope you like :D NSFW!

CHAPTER 1:

For once, the absolutely only time in recent history, your hair is behaving, thank the Gods! Actually, is there a God of Hair? Hmmm, maybe Kano would know? His stories of meeting Gods are always fascinating, even though he always exaggerates his role and prowess in encounters with said Gods. There is simply no way on Earthrealm that Kano could have stolen the Thunder God’s hat without being zapped into the Netherrealm. Plus, Kano has never produced this hat, so whenever he has one too many beers and starts on another night of tall tales, you nod along and feign complete belief in his words.

Maybe one day you’ll get to meet a God? Not likely whilst you’re stuck behind a computer for hours and hours every single day. Especially working alongside Erron-sodding-Black. He’s gone through at least 5 computers this year, 2 in the past three weeks! You swear he was doing it on purpose. In your steamiest daydreams he’s deliberately breaking his computers so you’ll have to travel to the ‘Black Dragon Boyz office’ (and yes, they spell it with a ‘z’) to spend precious time un-fucking his computer. Every time it happens, you swear you’re just going to tell him to go bother someone else, or get his arse down to PC World and find some spotty 17 year old work experience boy to bother rather than yourself. After all, you’re doing just as an important job for the Black Dragon as he is, well, almost. He might be a super amazing dead-shot sniper capable of assassinating even the most heavily guarded target, but you aren’t just IT support, you are a Black Dragon member too.

******** More after the cut! ***********

You spend much of your time hacking into Special Forces super secret files, reading General Sonya Blade’s horribly dry mission reports, or transferring money from one Swiss bank account to another before you could be traced. Well, that was why Kano had hired you. Yet these past few months you’ve been dragged to broken computer after broken computer by the obscenely handsome aforementioned Erron Black at least once a week. You hadn’t minded the first few times, after all, any time spent in Erron’s company makes you all giddy and wibbly-wobbly inside your knickers. His voice honestly does things to you, actually makes parts that shouldn't tingle at work, tingle. He has warm eyes that seem to sparkle whenever he speaks to you, or catch you staring at him, not that you stare at him. Much. OK, maybe a little. He has a smile that is likely illegal in half the known world. Long, strong fingers that you so often think about, especially when you watch him dance a coin across his knuckles when he’s thinking, his trick to keep his fingers supple. No, no no. No thinking about him. He obviously isn't interested in you. He’s a simple man when it comes to that. You’ve seen him make moves on people who catch his eye; he’ll watch them for a while, then walk up to them, give them a smile, tell them plainly what he wanted. Then you’ll watch them walk off together whilst your heart dissolves into self pity. A few months ago, you made a real effort to try to stop flirting with him. No more lingering looks while spending more time than needed helping him with his computer. The man was multi-talented with most things, just not computers. It probably didn't help that he didn’t grow up around modern technology. You gently tease him about being old and doddery around computers and he takes the jokes well, and really, you miss joking around with him, but it was for the best. Kabal jostles with you for mirror space, smoothing down his hair and giving the mirror a big grin. Why is it so easy for men like him? He probably rolls out of bed after 2 hours sleep with his face in a half-eaten curry and he’ll still wake up ridiculously handsome (the git). Whereas it takes a lot of fussing to even get your hair to behave, let alone look nice and shiny like Kabal’s does. Maybe you could make a small shrine in the corner of your bedroom to the Hair God? You nod to yourself, thinking Kabal must have done that. “Come on, you look beautiful. Now get your coat and scarf, and we’re outta here. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss it!” Kabal fusses with his coat buttons. Always unable to keep still, the man practically radiates excess energy. “I WILL BE SAD IF WE MISS THE FILM.” Tremor stands up from his own desk, the building shaking ever so slightly with the enormous man’s movements. “Not as sad as Kabal. He’ll start bawlin’ if he misses his boyfriend’s new film.” Erron spins round in his brand new swivel chair, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Johnny Cage is NOT my boyfriend and I don’t even care about missing the film.” Kabal bristles with indignation. He did care about missing it. He cares a lot. “I don’t even like his films, or him. I’m just watching it ironically.” Erron laughs. You feel that laughter, deep inside and it demands attention. Bastard. “Suuuure. Enjoy your boyfriend.” “He is NOT my boyfriend!” This was going to end up in another fight. Last week Kabal had called Erron ‘Old Man Withers’. Erron had retaliated by drawing on Kabal’s Johnny Cage calendar. (The moustache and glasses actually suited the ridiculously handsome movie star.) So Kabal put a mouse in Erron’s desk drawer and recorded Erron’s screams, playing them every so often whilst laughing. The feud had gone on until Kano forced them to apologise to one another, in front of everyone. This sort of idiocy happened probably twice a month. It had escalated to where people now made bets on how long each feud will last. The longest feud had lasted 23 long days before Kano had flipped. “I DO NOT WANT TO BE LATE.” Tremor tugs open the office door and the handle will need replacing. Again. You follow after the huge man, Kabal behind you is muttering about revenge. “Hey, Sweetheart, you goin’ too?” It takes a second before you realise that sultry Texan drawl is aimed at you. “Oh, yes. There was a spare ticket since Kira’s still stuck on a job.” Oh shit, you should have offered it to Erron instead. You’d been so excited to be included in the cinema plans that you’d been selfish and not asked if Erron had wanted to go. “But……” Erron’s face scrunches a little and he turns to his computer and hits a few keys in quick succession. “It ain’t workin’ again. Sorry, darlin’.” He gestures helplessly to his computer. “But… I only fixed it this morning! What have you done this time?!” You drop your bag to the floor, and peel off your coat with a frustrated groan. You are going to get fired, there was no way Kano would believe this. You are completely and utterly incompetent. No other reason. Your fault. “It’s those darn computer gremlins again.” He gives you an apologetic smile and shrugs with frustration at the computer gremlins. You sigh and wave goodbye to Kabal and Tremor, both eager to watch Ninja Mime’s latest adventure. This one was in SPACE and it was going to be amazing, and you were going to miss it. Nooooooo! You stomp over to Erron’s computer, your mouth twists into a grumpy pout. “That is it. No more computers for you! you want to do some work; then you can bloody well do it on a typewriter.” Erron replies with a “Heyyyyyyy” and a laugh. The throb between your legs from the laugh can just sod off. No more. Not when you were going to be unemployed and unemployable after this. Who was going to hire you? What could you put on your CV? ‘Failed IT support worker’? ‘Only capable of turning a computer on and even then it’ll probably turn itself off again when you’re not looking?’ ‘Can steal FBI or Special Forces secrets but can’t keep an old man’s computer running for more than 3 minutes before it’s broken again’? ‘Want to play Solitaire? Well don’t ask me, best try the sudoku in the newspaper instead’. You’re so engrossed in sulking you don’t notice Erron get up from his comfy chair to stand behind you as you perch on the crappy stool with no back (it had no back because Tremor had tried to sit on it). It was only when strong hands find your hunched shoulders and begin kneading at the tightly knotted and sore muscles, that you look away from the ‘blue screen of death’. “I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you, Sweetheart.” By the Gods his fingers are truly magic. His thumbs are rubbing magic circles into your shoulders and it feels soooo good. “Mmmhhhhh?” Maybe he is a God, the God of massage.? You close your eyes, your head rolls back and you enjoy the moment. Heat radiates from where his fingers touch you, heat that only gets stronger when it reaches your face and between your legs. He finds one particularly knotted muscle and you can’t help but groan your pleasure as his thumb circles the spot. His chuckled reply tugs you back to your senses and you quickly shrug his hands off you. Thank the Gods you have your back to him so he can’t see your positively flushed face. You quickly get back to tapping away at the keyboard, but your hands are shaking so badly from the intimacy, you struggle to hit the correct keys. “You sure you got that, Sweetheart?” The computer indignantly beeps at your clumsy fingers. “Says the man who has trashed enough computers to practically bankrupt Kano.” Your hands continue to shake and your thwarted desire swerves into anger. “I’ve made you mad.” “I haven’t been out in FOREVER, and just as I’m about to go out, YOU go break your computer. AGAIN!” “Ain’t my fault your boyfriend doesn’t take you out.” Why did he sound almost happy about that? Hang on… You spin around to face him. “What boyfriend?” “You know, the dwarf.” “The.. what?” “Your boyfriend, the hairy dwarf.” He folds his arms, and shifts his weight to one hip. He doesn’t seem too happy talking about this mystery boyfriend, whoever they are. “Is this some sort of joke?” You honestly have no idea what he means. Maybe he’s drunk or Kabal has told him this for a laugh? “I don’t think so?” One of his eyebrows rises in puzzlement. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a hairy dwarf boyf.. why do you think I have a hairy dwarf boyfriend?” Maybe you have a secret boyfriend so secret you don’t actually know you are in fact dating him? Piotr, who runs a very seedy strip club in the seedier part of the city, is a dwarf, (and you only know him because Kano is friendly with him, he’s a bit scary), but he’s balding. Who does Erron think you are dating? “You said you did. You know, you were talking about him being all small and his hair got everyw…. He’s a cat ain’t he.” Erron has the good grace to look embarrassed at his idiocy. “Obviously.” Is Kabal recording this? This is ridiculous. “Shit.” “Yup.” “Then.. uh.. you should go catch up with Kabal and Tremor.” “I still have your computer to fix.” This was going to be such an awkward few hours. Sitting in the office in silence because the pair of you are idiots. “I can do that.” He throws out a warm smile. “Really. The man who can’t even use a mouse without breaking it, can fix this mess?” You can’t help but roll your eyes. If he even so much as looks at the computer it will probably catch fire. “I maybe exaggerated my lack of skills.” His smile wavers, and slides from warm to worried. You are going to kill him if this was going where you suspect it is going. “I maybe might’ve deliberately caused the error.” He holds up his hands in surrender. Yup, you’re definitely going to have to kill him. “I maybe did some classes a few years back when I was at a loose end.” “…… I’m going to kill you!” “How ‘bout I make it up to you? I take you out for dinner, there’s this patisserie we can go afterwards for the best pastries in Moscow. Hell, you wanna watch that film, let’s go.” His eyes plead with you not to hate him, but right now, you really do. “I have a hairy dwarf who’ll be better company, thank you.” That he was possibly asking you out and that he wanted to actually go out on a date wasn’t registering. All you can think of is the waste of time and how humiliated you feel. Everyone probably knows and has laughed at how utterly clueless you are. Kano is going to fire you for being shit at your job - after he finishes laughing. “Heyyy, Sweetheart. I’m sorry. I just wanted to spend time with you.” He really does sound sorry. His eyes go all soft and warm and apologetic and Gods, he is beautiful and you really do want to believe him. “You really thought it was accidental?” He tries to hide a smile and can’t stop one eyebrow from raising quizzically at the thought that you’ve been so utterly clueless. “Well… you’re… there weren’t computers around when you were young…younger, I’m just an idiot aren’t I?” The-all-too brief warmth and fuzziness from thinking maybe there might actually be something there between you dissolves back into embarrassment from being tricked so easily. You grab your coat and bag and leave the office whilst Erron stares after you.

Chapter 2

The flat is dark and cold when you finally get home. The bus had been late, and Russia in autumn is hardly the most fun time of year to be kept waiting at a bus stop. Fur-lined boots and a thick fuzzy coat are nice enough, but do little to keep your body from freezing outside in the colder months. Still, the flat has semi-decent heating, and a thick blanket and a fuzzy cat happily purring on your knee whilst you drink coffee soon has you feeling a bit warmer.

Thinking back to earlier you have to admit you’d have liked a boyfriend, and no matter how humiliating what had happened earlier was, you still wish that this boyfriend was Erron. Your cat, Bob, was great company, and he would never play mean tricks on you, but great company as Bob was, he didn’t keep you quite as warm and quite as tingly as Erron possibly could. Sensing your traitorous thoughts, Bob nudges at your hand with his fluffy head to demand attention, purring happily when you indulge him and tickle under his chin. You give him a kiss on his fuzzy little head as way of an apology for being so utterly traitorous. Soon your thoughts switch to worries that you’ll be fired once Kano finds out about Erron’s trickery. Actually, Kano doesn’t fire people; he has them eaten by pigs or whatever it is that scary gangster criminal people do. Who will look after Bob? Your bottom lip quivers as you think about Bob, all alone in the dark, unable to open his tins of cat food without opposable thumbs, meowing sadly for someone to change his kitty litter. A moment later you force a smile. No more feeling sorry for yourself! You aren’t some pathetic pushover, this means war! You won’t just put a mouse in Erron’s drawer, you’ll put three rats in there and upload his screams to Youtube. He’ll find 30 chickens in his flat and you’ll steal his lunch every single day. You’ll swap all of his guns for water pistols and laugh when he cries about it. A loud buzzing from the doorbell pulls you from your thoughts of revenge. It’s probably Kano and some hungry pigs, so you take three deep breaths to prepare yourself. Scooping up Bob and tiptoeing to the door, you peep through the spyhole to instead see Erron waving at the spyhole. Muttering various threats, you open the door and give him your best pout. “Cute kitty.” He holds out a pink box with gold cyrillic lettering across the top. “I’ve come to apologise.” You keep up your pout and take the box with your free hand, then try to nudge the door closed with your hip. Erron laughs and strides into the flat, giving Bob a quick tickle on the head. 3 minutes later and Erron has taken over the kitchen. He has his own coffee, has eaten two of the amazing pastries he’d brought and Bob is his new best friend. The cat winds around Erron’s feet, meowing for attention, steadfastly refusing to stop even when you refill his food bowl. Traitorous beast! This must be payback for earlier. “You don’t like pastries, Sweetheart? I can go get somethin’ different?” The bastard throws you a smile that would normally have your knickers falling down, but you’re still feeling sorry for yourself, and Erron-Bloody-Black is not going to get off this easily. You have to keep up the pout so he won’t suspect your revenge plans. You shake your head and turn to tidy the counter-top behind you, thinking hard about a plan of attack. How about stealing his hats and replacing them with hats identical in every way except the hats were all just slightly too big? Your plan of attack is quickly ruined when strong hands find your hips and give them a gentle squeeze. Your spine tightens, and you hope your gasp of pleasure wasn’t audible. Lips brush your ear, and when he speaks, his warm breath sends a huge shiver right through you. “Please, Sweetheart, I’m sorry, don’t hate me. I promise, I’ll make it up to you. You want me on mah knees?” The thought of Erron on his knees is enough to make you shiver again. A hard pulse hits you right between the legs. Oh fuck, that was unfair. “It’ll take more than that.” “More cake?” He presses a very soft kiss just below your ear. Another pulse hits. Your legs quiver but you just about manage to keep yourself upright. Your knickers are going to evaporate. “You didn’t give me a chance to eat them.” Your voice is surprisingly steady but you chew on your lip to stop any pathetic noises escaping, just in case. “Dinner, every night for a week. We’ll get dressed up all fancy and go to the ballet, then spend the weekend in bed.” His voice is lower now, rougher. Another kiss sends more shivers through you, nerve endings sparking. Your fingers grab onto the countertop to stop you slithering to the floor. “That’s pretty presumptuous of you.” “You don’t wanna spend the weekend in bed with me?” Your stunned silence is answered by low laughter and him pressing a kiss to your neck. The tip of his tongue teases your tingling skin, and this time you can’t stifle your reaction. Erron takes your whimper as an invitation to slide his hands to your thighs and tug up your dress so his fingers can find bare skin. You lean back against him, his warmth quickly bleeding into you. More prickles of heat fizz through your nerves and aim straight for your core. Strong fingers dig into your thighs as he tugs your dress higher, inch by inch. Warm lips pepper kisses down your neck to your shoulders, lightly dancing his tongue over your increasingly sensitive skin, chuckling to himself with your every moan and whimper. You grip the edge of the counter harder and let your head roll to the side to give him more of you. Each touch from his mouth sends sparks down your spine and you can feel a slickness between your legs. Oh fuck... “This ok, Sweetheart?” Your reply is a mere mumble but he still gives you a moment to decline his touches, his mouth and fingers still upon you. You quickly force a “Yes, please”, and are rewarded by fingers sliding to your underwear, skimming so gently over the silken fabric to tease you. You whine at being denied his fingers and receive a gentle bite to your shoulder in reply. Then he’s gone. Your dress slithers back down to cover your thighs with you almost doing the same and slithering to the floor. You turn and watch him stride through the open door into your bedroom. Luckily he can’t see how your face scrunches into a desperate pout from being denied. “You comin’, Darlin’?” Your reply of “Well I would have been” is mumbled through gritted teeth as you trot after him, wishing you have even an ounce of self-control. He sits himself on the edge of your bed, reaching out to a hand, tugging you to sit on his lap, your legs straddling his as you face him. His large strong hands cup your face, and with a smile he presses the softest of kisses to your mouth. He waits for you to respond, then kisses you again once you kiss him back, a little harder and a little longer this time. His thumbs brush your face, then his hands are holding you close to him, close enough to feel both his warmth and his heart pounding as hard as your own. He is intoxicating, his heat, his mouth, his hands, and you want him more than anything. Your fingers find his face, stroking over his stubble prickled cheeks to learn how he feels, your touch light, nervous at finally being able to indulge yourself. He smiles at your touches and pulls you harder against him so you can feel his burgeoning hardness through his jeans, his smile widening when you wriggle to feel him, delighting in feeling his arousal because of you and enjoying your own arousal demanding attention. Your skin prickles with building desire and impulsively your hands leave his face to tug your dress up and off. He kisses you again, unbuttoning his shirt between every press of his lips to yours. His hands are then all over you, your back, your ass, stroking your skin, teasing you with the gentlest of touches then squeezing you hard enough to make you gasp between your contented sighs. His mouth moves from your lips to your neck, his teeth and tongue teasing louder gasps of delight from your kiss reddened lips. Your fingers stroke through his hair then roam over his chest and back, then moving over his thickly muscled arms, learning just how he feels. Erron murmurs happily into your ear and against your neck, and his fingers dig tighter into your ass, moving you against his groin, becoming more and more desperate to feel you. He tugs at your bra and when no objection is made, it joins the pile of clothing on the floor. He growls into your neck in approval at your breasts being free, and using the lightest of touches, traces the back of his fingers around the swell of your breasts and over your hard, sensitive nipples. Erron chuckles breathily at your whimpers and how you shiver from his touches, your need building as you grind down against his hardening dick encased in his jeans. Every touch of his mouth and fingers goes straight to your cunt and fuck, if he doesn’t fuck you soon, you’ll explode from the building pressure. Your fingers go for his waistband and fumble at the buttons with sweaty and shaking fingers. Erron drags his attention from your chest to watch you struggle with the stubborn fastenings. “You’re an eager one, Sweetheart.” “It’s your fault.” “Yeah, I guess it is.” He cocks an eyebrow, lifts you off his lap and lays you on the bed. Said eyebrow raises even higher when you wriggle out of your knickers and toss them aside, but it’s in jest, and he takes a long moment to gaze appreciatively at you, his smile genuine, warm and tinged deeply with desire. He tugs off his jeans and underwear with ease and tosses them to join the clothes pile, and then he’s on you. His tongue and lips find your breasts, his teasing your nipples harder ever so gently with his teeth has you tugging at his hair. You feel the graze of fingers trail down your body to your thighs that then grip you tightly enough to leave marks you’ll feel for the next few days. His long, strong fingers slide between your legs, moving them apart to finally reach your cunt. Again his touch is so light and gentle, a finger brushes over your folds before dipping between them. His thumb searches for your clit, circling around the sensitive bud as his fingers find your opening. He kisses you again, murmuring between the kisses, he whispers how beautiful you are to him, how he’s wanted you for all this time, how you feel, how hard you’ve made him and when he increases the pressure he pulls back to watch your eyes flutter closed and your teeth sink into your lower lip to stifle your pleasure. He continues to tease your clit, using your slickness to keep his touch feather light. He watches you writhe beneath him with tightly closed eyes, your back arching and one hand tangling in your own hair as he changes the pressure of his thumb on your clit, sometimes soft, sometimes rough, sometimes so feather light you beg for him to be rougher. Your feet kick against the bedclothes, rucking them up around you both as Erron pulls more and more pleasure from you. His thumb leaves your clit and he laughs at your indigent whines, instead he slides a long finger inside you. You’re so wet and needy that your cunt accepts him easily, and you soon beg for more. With a smile he adds another finger inside you, then a third, scissoring you wider, his fingers moving easily with your arousal. You whimper up at him, voicing just how good he’s making you feel, and how you want to touch him. He kisses you when you reach out to grasp his long, thick cock, stroking him harder, feeling the velvet softness of the skin over iron hardness. Your kisses quicken and deepen, tongues entwining, teeth biting at the others lips, desire building so quickly that every touch is almost desperate. When you whisper how you want him inside you he eagerly slides his fingers from you, pushing your thighs wider apart, staring into your eyes as he first strokes his cock harder, your arousal on his fingers coating his length along with the pearls of precum that weep from the crown, then rubs himself against your folds. He pauses, taking the moment to breathe, then tormentingly slowly, he pushes himself inside your hot, wet heat. His thickness feels so good, stretching you so wide you can’t help but voice your pleasure. He groans a reply and almost tauntingly slowly, he pushes deeper, his thick cock stretching you more than his fingers could. He pauses, allowing you both to catch your breath and adjust to just how perfect the other feels. He gazes down at you with heavy-lidded eyes that shine with more than just desire, his damp hair messy, strands sticking to his forehead. Agonizingly slowly, he pushes forward, his cock stretching your cunt wider and wider as you cling to him, until he’s filled you completely. Again you kick at the bed, the sensations overwhelming you, your head light and fuzzy, your skin buzzing as sweat beads along your scalp and chest, dampening the backs of your limbs, and between where you and Erron lie against one another. Erron groans with pleasure and kisses you open mouthed, eager and lust-filled, just so happy to be with you. He tears his kiss-swollen lips from yours to take deep breaths and you stare up at him, every nerve tingles with sensation, your cunt so tight around his cock. You stroke a hand through his damp hair and whimper uncontrollably as he snaps his hips first backwards, then forwards. You nerves delight in the friction and beg for more and you’re unable to stop from begging him to fuck you, fuck you hard and fast and to fuck you now! The pace starts out so slow, his fingers digging into your hips, his mouth on yours then moving to your neck, hot breath on sweat slicked skin. Your legs wrap around him, pulling your hips upwards, angling you so he’s even deeper with each thrust, his cock making your nerves sing from the friction and the need for more. Your fingers are in his hair, tugging and stroking and you whisper and moan your delight at feeling him inside you. When neither of you can take it anymore he speeds up his thrusts, still achingly deep, are brusingly hard, your cunt so tight around him that the sensation is almost too much. Sweat rolls down the back of your legs, prickles in your hairline and down spine. Your hands are everywhere, gripping at him, holding your writhing bodies together, and slipping on his hot wet skin. The tightness in your cunt starts to radiate to your thighs and spine. Your thighs grip him tighter and you whimper your pleasure and beg for more, desperate for a release. His replies are muffled, his mouth is in the crook of your neck and when his thrusts start to quicken yet further he lifts his head to gaze down in your eyes, watching as you come undone beneath him. He whispers encouragement, delighting as your pleasure builds into a fire that overwhelms and burns, every nerve aflame and so bright. You cry out and let everything wash over you, your body writhing as Erron keeps moving inside you to prolong the feeling and let you ride out your bliss. His hands paw at your hips as he comes mere moments after you, hips thrusts jerking and stuttering, spilling deep inside you, grunting loudly with his own overwhelming pleasure. He’s heavy as he lies panting on top of you, the pair of you struggling to breath again and calm your pounding hearts. Erron chuckles breathlessly, kisses you between deep breaths, rolls first onto his back, then onto his side to face you and props himself up on one elbow. “Think I’m broken.” You snuggle up against him, reveling in the afterglow, in how your hot sweat slicked skin feels in the cool air of your apartment. “Guess I have a talent for breaking things.” He smiles. He can’t keep his eyes off you. “I hate you.” “I know.”

[isitgintimeyet]

Road To The Aisles

AO3

Previous

A few days later than anticipated but here it is... and the wedding is getting closer.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks, @happytoobserve, @mo-nighean-rouge for their support and to you for reading. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 22: An Unsolicited Overture

“Really, Mr. Collins,' cried Elizabeth with some warmth, 'you puzzle me exceedingly. If what I have hitherto said can appear to you in the form of encouragement, I know not how to express my refusal in such a way as to convince you of its being one.”

― Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Claire opened up her phone and scrolled down the list, mentally ticking off the various entries. With most of the wedding paraphernalia already at Lallybroch, this was mainly their and William’s personal items for the coming weekend. And as soon as Jamie returned from collecting William, they could finally pack the car and be on their way.

All the cases and boxes were stacked, waiting by the front door. Just one more thing to add to the pile.

Claire slid the wardrobe door open in the spare bedroom. There it was, pristine in its garment bag. She inspected the surgical tape positioned across the head of the zip. Still intact, untampered with. It wasn't that she didn't trust Jamie not to take a peek, it was just, well, she wanted the absolute knowledge that the first time he would see the dress was as she was walking towards him on Sunday.

She closed her eyes for a moment - less than forty eight hours before she married Jamie… and she couldn’t wait. Everything was going to plan up at Lallybroch, according to Mrs. Crook, who had been an absolute godsend to Claire and Jamie. She had willingly undertaken the role of event planner, acting as their go between when they were unable—due to time, distance and other commitments—to deal with things face to face.

Mrs. Crook had just rung up to confirm that the marquee and portaloos were now in place, with the flooring, tables and chairs ready and waiting. Claire breathed a sigh of relief. Tomorrow would be a frantic day, she knew, but it was all coming together nicely. Nothing would go wrong now.

*************

Jamie tapped the steering wheel impatiently. It had been a while since he had had to make this Friday evening journey to Geneva’s house to pick William up and city centre rush hour traffic had certainly not improved in that time. Why Geneva had decided not to put William into nursery today was unfathomable… or maybe not. Perhaps it was just a way to cause maximum disruption to himself and Claire on the eve (or, rather, eve’s eve) of their wedding. Hopefully, William would be ready to go and they could be on their way quickly… back to Claire and then up to Lallybroch to start their weekend.

Jamie grinned at the thought of their wedding weekend. Tomorrow would be hectic, he realised that, with all the last minute preparations and arrangements.After this evening, there would be no quiet time for him and Claire until—he smiled again—until their wedding night.

Eventually, Jamie pulled up outside Geneva’s house and hurried to the door. Unusually, Geneva answered the door promptly and ushered Jamie into the hall.

“Hello,’ Jamie greeted her politely. “Is William ready? I need tae be on the way. We’ve a fair drive this evening.”

He had decided not to remind Geneva about the wedding. There was no point in rubbing salt into the proverbial wound.

“Can you come in for a minute? There’s something I need to discuss.” She sounded nervous, worried.

“Is it about William? He’s alright, is he no’? Is that why he didna go tae nursery?” Jamie spoke rapidly.

“He’s fine. It’s not about him. Well…”

Jamie followed Geneva into the living room, his stomach suddenly in knots.

“Ye’re no’ planning on moving? I thought ye’d decided no tae that.”

She turned and rested a hand lightly on his forearm.

“Jamie, it’s not that. It’s…” she took a deep breath and continued. “It’s not too late, you know… for us. If you wanted us to be a real family—you, me and William. We could try. I know you have the wedding this weekend, but, if you really wanted you could stop it. Claire would get over it, I’m sure. We could make it work, you and I. I know you have a problem with my mother, but I could talk to her. She would understand.”

Jamie gently detached Geneva’s hand from his arm and shook his head. This was an unfamiliar side to her. Usually so full of self confidence and clear in her demands, this was different, almost pleading. She was not treating it as a game this time, eager not to lose, but with a sincere hope that he could… would… change his mind and choose her. But his choice wasn’t about William having parents who lived together, or about Louisa being less involved in their lives. His choice was simple and always would be. His choice was Claire, his only Sassenach.

“Geneva,” he spoke slowly and clearly. “This isna about William. We know that he has two parents who love him and live separately. I will always do ma best fer him, but that doesna mean we should try tae be together.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Jamie continued. “Nor is it about yer mother. Interfering or no’, I would have found a way tae deal with her… if I had wanted tae. It is about Claire. I have found the woman I want to spend ma life with, that I want tae make a commitment tae and nothing will change that. This is no’ healthy fer ye, Geneva, ye need tae move on. We were never a good match, ye and I. Ye must realise that. I love Claire and I always will.”

Silence filled the room. Jamie shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, keen to take his leave. His son came to his rescue as a cry came through the baby monitor, rousing Geneva into action.

“I’ll go and fetch William. He’s in his cot.” Geneva's air of vulnerability vanished as her usual mask of self confidence fell into place once more.

Jamie waited by the front door as Geneva returned with William already in his car seat. He squealed and eagerly kicked his legs at the sight of his father. Jamie took the car seat and kissed his son’s cheek.

“Bye, Geneva. I’ll drop William off at nursery on Tuesday as agreed.”

“Bye then. See you.” She started to close the front door behind them, then paused. “Er, hope everything goes… er….”

Jamie turned. “Thank ye.”

************

“She said what?” Claire spoke louder than she had intended, rousing William from his nap in the back of the car. “Oh sorry, darling.”

She reached behind her seat and stroked William’s leg.

“Will she ever give up, I wonder? Can she not get the message?” Claire twisted the strap of her bag agitatedly. “What will it take?”

Jamie stroked her knee briefly before pulling over to the side of the road. He shifted in his seat, turning to face Claire and brought his hand up to her cheek.

“Should I no’ have told ye? I wasna sure whether tae tell ye, but I jes’ decided I had tae. I dinna want tae be starting our marriage with a secret between us.”

“No, you did right. It’s just… just… it frustrates me so much. Does she really think you are going to change your mind? You’ve had plenty of opportunity before now.”

“Aye, but this felt, somehow more final. I ken this will be the last time. She needs tae move on wi’ someone else. She and I were never a match, Sassenach, and she kens that right enough.”

Jamie took Claire’s hand and nervously twisted the diamond solitaire on her finger. “Ye ken I didna do anything tae give her any encouragement. It was as much of a surprise tae me as tae ye, Sassenach.”

Now it was Claire’s turn to provide the reassurance to Jamie. She pressed her hand on his chest and felt his heart beating, faster at first then slowing down into its usual rhythm as his worries disappeared with her soothing touch.

“I know that, Jamie. I know you.”

The quiet of the moment was suddenly interrupted by a squeaking sound from the back seat. They both craned their heads around to see William enthusiastically squeezing his new plush hedgehog, babbling in delight as he repeatedly pressed the squeaker hidden inside the toy’s body.

Claire laughed. “Did you know when you bought it?”

A look of pride crept over Jamie’s face. “Truly, I didna. But look at him, He’s a clever lad tae be figuring that out sae quickly. Aye, so ye are, ma wee man.”

“We’ve still got another hour on the road. You might not be so keen on that toy by the time we get to Lallybroch.”

“And,” Claire added as Jamie started the car. “Please make sure he doesn’t have that toy on Sunday afternoon. Our wedding vows interspersed with William’s squeaky hedgehog is not what I want our guests to remember.”

******

Lallybroch stood dark and quiet as everyone settled down for the night.

Jamie lay on his side next to Claire, her arse nestling into his thighs, his hand reaching around to cup her breast. He sighed contentedly, his breath lightly tickling her neck. The steady sound of William snoring came through the baby monitor on the bedside table.

He sighed again. “I’m going tae miss this tomorrow night, when ye’ll be here all on yer own and I’m having tae bunk in wi’ Murtagh. Are ye sure ye dinna want me here instead? Ye’ll be awfa lonely,.. jes’ one wee Sassenach in this great big bed.”

Claire wedged her bottom more firmly into Jamie. “ I am not breaking with tradition. You’ll have to manage for one night.”

“Alright, Sassenach.”

The darkness in the bedroom was absolute. A velvety blackness cocooning the two of them in their own private world. Claire lifted Jamie’s hand from her breast and brought it to her lips, kissing it softly before returning it to its original position.

“Jamie, can I ask you a question?”

“I presume ye mean two questions, seeing as how ye’ve already asked one.”

She dug her elbow quickly into his ribs in chastisement.

“You’ve had girlfriends before me…”

She felt Jamie tense slightly, unsure where this line of questioning was going.

“... and I know at least one of them before me wasn’t from Scotland. I’m not prying but… did you ever call them Sassenach?”

His body relaxed as he kissed her neck.

“Nah, only ye. Ye’re the only one I ever called Sassenach, or given any name tae. When I was a bairn, Mam had a pet name fer me. She called me Sawny… it’s from Alexander, ye ken. That was between her and me. It was special. Tae me, a pet name, a nickname, it’s, weel, it’s more than affectionate. It’s a sign of love.”

“But you called me that on our first date.”

“Aye, I did. Like I say, it’s a sign of love. And I kent that then. Then, now and forever, ma Sassenach.”

[kd-holloman]

First Line Tag Game!

I was tagged by the wonderful @writingamongther0ses! Thank you so much! As much as I’d love to use my first lines from Oh, Hell, they aren’t that great. So, I’m going to give the first lines of The Traveler’s Gift!

Chapter One:

Jerry Reubinault knew he was going to die.

Chapter Two:

A dizzying array of colors flashed behind his eyes as his head hit the pavement. The sharp sting of asphalt cut through the muted sensation of his limbs as his elbow scraped across the ground.

Chapter Three:

Louis had been in the twenty-first century for six days and he liked Rodney. No matter how bad things got, he always looked at the bright side of things. If it was raining he’d look up at the sky and say, “We could be baking in the sun.” If they were hungry he’d say, “That hunger means we’re still alive.” If someone shouted obscene things at them through their car window he would say, “Sometimes people need to vent.”

Chapter Four:

The first thing Louis learned about the man running the O’Shea mafia was that his parents must have hated him. His honest-to-God name was Rick O’Shea. The second thing he discovered was that Rick had inherited his father’s reign at a fairly young age.

Chapter Five:

Louis tossed what little remained of his cigarette to the glass and pebble strewn pavement. It bounced, sparked, and rolled to a stop. He couldn’t sit beneath the overpass, breathing in the stink of exhaust fumes for another minute. “I’ll be back in the morning, Rodney.”

Chapter Six: 

Louis couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming. Everything felt far away, but simultaneously too close. If he held his hand up in front of his face he couldn’t tell how far away it was from his nose. His palm was blurry. The lines creasing his skin reminded him of smudged ink on a freshly written letter.

Chapter Seven:

Drip, 347. Drip 348. Drip 349.

Chapter Eight:

“What do you say?”

Chapter Nine:

Louis paced his cell. He had no way to entertain himself. So, he spent his time wandering around aimlessly from corner to corner. He was growing frustrated.

Chapter Ten:

Hours passed. At least, it felt like hours. It had to have been hours because Louis’s head no longer felt like it was full of wet cement and he could slog his way from one end of the room to the other without tripping over his damned feet.

Chapter Eleven:

For the first time since his arrival to the twenty-first century, Louis finally had the chance to experience it without being hurt, drugged, or homeless. It gave him the opportunity to explore the era the way he wanted. He got to try technology he’d never dreamed of. Things had changed dramatically in the past ninety-something years. The way people talked, listened to stories, and enjoyed music had all changed. He was just now becoming familiar with the technology and trying it out for himself.

Chapter Twelve:

“My, oh, my. Don’t you clean up nice.”

Chapter Thirteen:

Louis liked a lot of things. For instance, he liked strawberry jam on his toast, he liked to watch people, and he liked that he had hundreds of options for television at his disposal. He also hated a lot of things. He hated menthol cigarettes, raw onion, and listening to some palooka talk himself up when he was really full of shit.

Chapter Fourteen:

The blood on the plastic was so thick and dark it seemed black.

Chapter Fifteen:

Almost a week after [Redacted]’s death, Louis sat at the table and played solitaire. It was a game that required just enough thought that it kept him from hearing the horrible wet sound as [Redacted]’s heart had been ripped from his chest.

Chapter Sixteen:

The precinct smelled of old coffee and body odor.

Chapter Seventeen:

The benefit for the police department was a formal affair. It consisted of wrinkle-free navy tablecloths, white-linen napkins, crystal long-stemmed glasses, and some of the city’s wealthiest people pretending to get along for just a few hours as they shamelessly donated obscene amounts of money to the cause.

Chapter Eighteen:

By the time Louis had cleaned up Slater’s mess, both he and Ardford were long gone. He asked the bartender where he’d gone and he’d been pointed in the direction of a side door not too far from the bar.

Chapter Nineteen:

Slater stood in front of Louis. “If you didn’t have bad luck, you wouldn’t have any at all. What happened?”

Chapter Twenty

Louis went straight to his bedroom when he got home. He didn’t think he could stand the metallic stink on his clothes for another minute. He stripped out of his shirt. The blood splattered down its front had dried a burgundy-brown color.

Chapter Twenty-One

“You’re kind of a hypocrite, y’ know that?” Louis asked. He juggled bags of Thai takeout while Damien was slurping from a box of noodles as they walked. “You’re always talking about eating healthy and cooking at home, but you’re the first person to suggest eating pizza, tacos, or whatever this stuff is.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The act of spying was to observe furtively.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The following afternoon Louis sat elbow-to-elbow with Slater and Damien at Rick’s dining room table.  The conversation was a murmur. There was too much underlying tension for it to grow and swell. It felt like the dry, burning, heat of summer being cut with the sharp chilling breeze of a cold front before a nasty storm. Nobody knew why they’d been called together, but Louis had a good feeling that it had to do with [Redacted]’s betrayal.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Louis had never been one for waiting. He had never wanted to wait for his punishments as a kid. He had always wanted them to be over as quickly as possible. He hadn’t wanted to wait for Christmas because excitement had him eager to tear into the brown wrapping on his gifts as soon as possible. He’d hated patrolling the trenches in France because he had known an attack was coming, but had hated holding his breath, waiting for it to come.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?” Slater asked. It was the night of the Quench delivery and he seemed unconcerned as he sat on a crate. He kicked the wood beneath him with the heels of his red and white Chucks.

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The dark silence of the night pressed heavily around him. The flickering of the votive and tea light candles were the only source of light in the church. It made the shadows seem darker, more ominous, alive. They made the watchful eye of Christ behind the pulpit seem even more damning.

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

[Redacted]’s parents held a quiet funeral for their son a few days after his death; at least, that was what Louis had been told. He hadn’t attended. None of them had.

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

“I’m out of coffee and this is stupid,” Slater complained. “This is bitch work. I don’t do bitch work.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

The next night, Louis found himself standing across the street from Tito’s Pizza.

Chapter Thirty:

  Louis’s head was throbbing to each knock on the door. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. Pain jolted him awake as his arm touched the bruised and tender flesh of his swollen eye. He swore and sat up.

Chapter Thirty-One:

Louis wasn’t a fan of spiders. They had too many legs, too many eyes, and moved too damned fast. He hated them when they touched him and hated it even more when he found them in the shower.

Chapter Thirty-Two:

“What did you mean when you said Rick had fooled you before?” Louis asked. He checked his gun to make sure it was full of rounds and made sure he had enough spare ammunition in his pocket. He knew Deuce wouldn’t be stupid enough to do a job empty-handed. Especially, knowing that Rick was looking for him.

Chapter Thirty-Three:

“Louis? Wake up.” Clammy fingers pressed against his cheek.

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Louis’s life was spinning out of control again. He was lost. Knowing that Slater was in the bowels of the hospital while he was confined to the waiting room felt wrong. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

Chapter Thirty-Five:

All it took was a jump a few blocks from the apartment building and a quick check of the junk mail in the mailboxes on the front of the duplex porch to figure out which one belonged to Wes the Weasel.

Chapter Thirty-Six:

Louis didn’t have anywhere else to go. So, after Slater was settled into his room at the hospital, he curled up in one of the chairs in the corner of the room and let himself fall asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

That night, when the nursing staff told Louis visiting hours were over, Slater insisted that he stay.

Sorry for the long read! I’d like to tag (with no pressure): @howdy-writes, @littlerothridinghood, @gloriafrimpong, @gwens-fiction, @goblingraveyard, @vivian-is-writing