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yujiqi · 20 hours ago

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match made in heaven

stranger!hyunjin x wealthy f!reader

synopsis: you’re feeling desperate tonight so you decide to look for someone to hook up with on a dating app and it seems you guys could be more than a one night stand

genre/s: smut, fluff

warnings: oral f!receiving, vanilla sex, lil bit of dry humping

wc: 1.7k

a/n: listen to singularity - bts while reading! i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not that good but i feel bad for not posting so heres a little smth! mostly proofread!

you long for evenings like this. sipping on a glass of wine, taking a hot bath with a rich lavender essence filling the bathroom.

"miss y/n, your food has arrived. shall i leave it here?" you hear your butler from the other side of the door.

"leave it on my coffee table, thank you"

you hear his footsteps fading away. being wealthy is fun. many people say money cant buy happiness but you think that's false. they're just saying that because they don't have money.

you live alone, your butler and the others that do your housework come early in the morning, but by midnight, it's just you. a part of you wishes you had someone to spend your nights with. you’re the ceo of the company your dad owns. some say you were born with a silver spoon. they aren't wrong, but it does bother you how people badmouth you behind your back when you could easily end their career.

you take the last sip of your wine and set the glass down. you carefully step out of the bathtub and wrap a towel around yourself. the aroma of food fills your nostrils. you ordered lobster with a couple other sides. your butler left a new bottle of wine right by it. you usually don't have big meals like this but it’s friday and it’s been a tiring week. you hear your phone ring and you hesitate for a moment. you don't feel like talking to anyone right now. it’s your mom calling. she's always bugging you about how you need to get married.

"hello" you finally answer the phone.

"y/n. what did i tell you about ignoring my calls." she sounds mad.

"you know i'm busy, mom"

"too busy to answer the woman that brought you to this planet?"

"mom," you pause for a second because you really don't wanna do this right now. "i have to go"

"when are you going to get married, y/n" you feel like she can practically hear your eye roll at this point.

"why are you so worried about that when i'm literally the ceo of a company? i'm well off, i don’t need a man" you protest.

"i just think it would be best if you settled with a man, have a kid that will soon takeover the company too"

"i'm going to sleep. goodnight" and with that, you hang up.

you’re 26, she seriously needs to back off a bit. although you do feel you should find a man. you don't want a man to settle down with though, you want a man to satisfy you and pleasure you. lord knows you need it. you can't remember the last time you had sex. maybe 3 years ago? you’ve been so busy, you haven't had time to think about yourself. you look at your phone and can't believe what you’re about to do. you open the app store and type in "hookup apps".

you’re shocked you’d stoop this low, but you’re feeling really desperate tonight. you open the app and it asks for the basics. name, age, city, and a few extra questions. the app is very quick to find matches. none of them interest you until someone catches your eye.

hyunjin, 23, seoul

cool, hes 3 years younger than you but you can make it work. you send a request to him and he immediately sends a message.

hyunjin: into younger guys i see?

me: im gonna be honest... im really desperate rn

hyunjin: oh yeah? dont u wanna know even a little bit about me?

me: not really

hyunjin: i could be an old white man yk

me: the fact that ur saying that alr lets me know ur not

hyunjin: true

me: ill give u my address then

hyunjin: already???

me: i told u im desperate

you send him your address and anxiously wait in the lobby area of your penthouse. you mess with the strap on your velvet robe. you’re not wearing anything underneath so easy access, right? you get a message from hyunjin asking for the gate code. you give it to him and soon you hear the doorbell chime throughout the house. you quickly get up and open the massive door for him.

"woah" his mouth wide open, pure shock on his face

"you like it?"

"i'm not talking about the house, i'm talking about you" he says.

well that's a first. you don't get many guests, but when you do, all they talk about is the house.

"you're bold" is all you manage to let out. he's fine. incredibly fine. the way his long black his falls perfectly onto his shoulders. you notice the mole under eye. how unique. he's also very tall, much taller than you at least. he has long, slim fingers and your mind can't help but imagine what he can do with them.

"do you want a glass of wine?" you ask him

"i thought you were horny"

"i am, i'm just building up to it" you look up at him with those eyes. the ones that make any guy melt. you grab his hand and lead him upstairs to your room. we sit on the couch and you pour him a glass. even while he drinks, he doesn't take his eyes off of you. he looks hungry and you like it.

"this is a nice place you have" he says, setting down the glass.

"yeah, i'm the ceo of my dad's company" you’re not really one to brag so you don't know why you said that, internally face palming. he nods and continues to stare into your eyes. he then looks down to catch a glimpse at what you’re wearing. the hunger in his eyes grows even more. with the way he's looking at you, you don't think you can sit still any longer. you get closer to him. he watches you closely. you look at him and ask,

"what do you want?"

"you" is all he says before placing his lips on yours. he kisses you so slow and sensually, just how you like it. you wrap your arms around his neck and your hand moves to the back of his head. he deepens the kiss, if that was even possible. he adjusts himself on the couch, making you sit on his lap. you can't help but to slightly grind against him due to the lack of friction. he lets out a slight groan into the kiss. so he likes this... good to know.

"hyunjin, please" you breathe between kisses

he only lets out a low moan in response. his hands find your robe strap. he wastes no time unraveling it. you get goosebumps from the cold air. but the second his hands land on your bare chest, you feel hot. he plays with your breasts for a while before breaking the kiss. his lips move to your jaw, then neck, then collarbone. you start to breathe heavy as you wait for him to put his mouth where you want it the most.

he kisses the area right above your left nipple and takes it in his mouth soon after. you almost immediately moan at the sensation you haven't felt in forever. you run your fingers gently through his hair as his face is shoved in your chest.

"hyunjin, the bed" you whisper into his ear. he stops feasting on you and looks into your eyes with that same look from before, but this one more desperate. he hurriedly picks you up and places you on your king bed, white satin sheets. your lips connect again with the slow and sensual pace as hyunjin climbs on top of you. it feels like you’ve been doing this all night but its only been a few minutes. you pull his shirt over his head. he has a slim appearance, but also has visible abs. what a sight. he's so beautiful, you admire him before he starts to kiss down your stomach. he gets closer and closer to your pussy and you want to moan before he even does anything. you like that in this moment, no words are needed. you’re taking things slowly. you desperately want him to touch and feel every part of you. he looks up at you before eating you out like you’re his last meal. with every movement of his tongue, you feel like you’re in heaven knowing you’re far from it. you thrust your hips, shoving yourself further into his mouth. he pulls your legs further apart, trying to taste every inch of you. there's that familiar yet unfamiliar feeling building up in you.

a breathy "hyun m’gonna" is all that can come out of your mouth.

"not yet love" he moves away from your pulsing cunt. you’re about to whine before he shuts you up with another kiss. he sits up to unbutton his pants. he discards his boxers as well. he pumps himself a bit before leaning down to place more kisses onto your lips as if he'll never get to feel them again. he adjusts himself before thrusting into you slowly. gosh it's been so long since you’ve felt something this good. he leans forward onto his elbows, his cock buried deep in you. you feel his breath your my ear. you wrap your arms around him tightly. the way you are right now feels so comfortable. it's like you’ve known him your whole life even though you met 30 minutes ago. he ruts into you deeply and passionately.

"y/n you're doing so good" he breathes out. he holds you tighter, kissing the skin by your ear. his thrusts start to get faster as you both get closer to your orgasm, and your moans get louder. there's that feeling again, except it's much more intense this time. with one final thrust, you both release. it's interesting how you’re so in sync with everything. you don't want this to be your last night with him. you guys catch your breath for a second before he removes his head from your neck to look at you.

"you're amazing" he smiles at you, a sincere one.

"you too" you smile back.

for some reason, it feels like you don't need to say anything else. like you both know what the other is feeling and thinking through everything you just did. it's connections like this that you should cherish. you plan on sticking with him.

"lets stay like this for a while, then get cleaned up, yeah?" he says

you just nod, his hair tickles your chin.

you’ve finally found your match, your match made in heaven.

#hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hyunjin stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader

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thekoldun · 2 days ago

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Ok I feel I should lay out my perspective about the Harry Potter parody Dimension 20 season as someone who watched it: It is an unabashed, completely merciless critique not only of the franchise but of the inability of the culture to move on past HP as a concept. The plot of Misfits and Magic, the season in question, is about how the conception of magic has become so irrevocably tied to the shitty wizard school books that the merest idea that anyone could do magic and interact with magic completely fractures the manufactured structure sustaining the isolationist magical world. If it was just a generic wizard school then the majority of what it was actually trying to accomplish as a critique would not work, especially when wizard schools as a concept have become so completely dominated by HP's imagery. And even then the second season does exist at a distance from the imagery and ideas it was lampooning in the first season, because it at every point is is engaging with ideas of fantasy, of magic, of existence, that are new and fresh and weird and fun. One of the islands in the arcane archipelago they visit is made up of the remnants of the now broken wizard society who are cannibalizing their own magical relics in a desperate effort to hold onto the conception of the world as it used to be, destroying their identities in order to hold onto a perfect nostalgic reality that is being drip-fed them by an island of illusion in exchange for them destroying every bit of tangible magic they have. To tie it irrevocably to the shitty wizard books is to miss the point, where the whole season is about moving away from those concepts and towards a new understanding of magic and fantasy. Now, where I absolutely agree with the above: The degree to which trans women aren't represented on the platform is completely true. To a degree it seems like the company sees drag queens and trans women as essentially interchangeable to the degree that it'll not have all that many trans women at all involved in the process. Plus the cultural touchstones they tend to refer to even for queer media is mainly shit like Drag Race. What also sucks is how often shitty transphobic jokes slip in with the cast members seemingly completely unaware. During A Starstruck Odyssey Brennan straight up made a "guy pulls on a wig to pretend to be a woman in a women-dominated organization" joke and it was only Ally, a transmasc, who actually voiced any kind of protest at this. But then again, Brennan also helped create this absolutely beautiful narrative with Persephone Valentine about trans womanhood so it really demonstrates how much better things get when you actually involve trans women in the process. I'm absolutely not going for an aggressive defense of Dropout. In many ways it is completely tiring how it falls into the same-old pitfalls you see on far less progressive platforms, I just wanted to take the time to lay out how some of the particular criticisms seemed ill-aimed.

the problem is, i am actually the type of person who is totally primed to be all about Dropout and their various shows & content. and i always said i WOULD be into it if they actually started featuring trans women outside of One Off Tokenistic Appearances. and then… they just never stopped doing that, all whilst landing more TME queer people in recurring roles, platforming people who are transmisogynists, making transphobic jokes about transfem NPCs in d20 etc.

and so i never got into Dropout! it just really is a shame, considering how much of tabletop rpg culture & history was built off of the backs of trans women’s work. really disappointing for a group of people who keep jerking themselves off about how much they hate terfs, JK Rowling and Harry Potter, and how much they love uplifting marginalised voices, to not actually put any effort into representing some of the most marginalised voices around their table. 🤷‍♀️

#dropout

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blackbirdsblackberries · 15 hours ago

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If Reader is a spider hero like Spiderman, were we bitten by a genetically altered radioactive spider? How did we get in that situation?

Did our dad take us with him on a job, before he had his voice cut out, and we got bitten by a project the villain was making? Did our dad sell us to get cash and we were a human experiment that escaped or was thought to have failed? Did we stumble into a situation where this happened? I'm so curious! (And the flash backs could be great filler.)

On another note, our Spidey Sense only works when we're in danger, right? But it didn't detect Dick and the bucket. Does that mean he had no real intention to hurt us? Only wanted us to go off the wall and hurt him? It'd be interesting if our unease with the Bat Fam is just our Spidey Sense going off. Which would mean we'd feel a spike in our sense when they try to capture us. Probably immediately after telling them we're leaving/quitting, if we do.

On another note, I'm just thinking about what would happen if we got exposed to spider pheromones and turned into a giant arachnid? We aren't destroying buildings or anything. Just trying to hide. I'm just imagining the Bat Fam and the reactions. Maybe it was a new ingredient of Fear Gas? Maybe a new big bad that was trying to mind control spiders?

Either way, it follows canon Spiderman comics. Where he was turned into a spider, the villain found out he was 'pregnant', his spider form dies, and his human body rips out of the corpse. Poor Bat Fam questioning how to turn Aranea back into a human while trying to catch her and calm her down. Finding out she's 'pregnant' and questioning if she even knew by that point. The devastation of her dying, curling in on herself and not moving. Then, hours later, the body ripping apart from the inside out to reveal a human body, face obscured from the cameras by hair and mucus, who escapes before the family come back.

Hi! Oh my god it's been a while!!

The backstory will definitely be a filler/separate chapter from the main story, but until that comes out I will say that Reader has had these powers for years now and had been quite young when the incident happened. This also ties in with the whole Spidey Senses situation, I like to think the Reader is so used to the senses warning of danger that it's just like a gut feeling people get normally (obviously intensified). Dick definitely didn't mean to harm Reader and wasn't trying to be a threat so even though there was some unease it wasn't enough to enact fight or flight.

As for the second part of the ask. I might make a separate mini story for it!! That definitely seems fun to write but the main things I think would happen would be:

- Batfam freaking out and trying to look for Aranea

- one of the members finding your new form

- a whole freakout ensues

- Damian believes you are now the new Man-Bat

- You, obviously, runs off and is quickly chased down by Batman and Red Hood (the others are either frozen from shock, in the cave or trying to convince Damian that just because Aranea is a proper spider doesn't mean they're now against them)

- they capture you and take you to the batcave, most would be pretty happy to finally have a reason for you to be here.

- They run tests on you before finding out you're pregnant

- Immediately they freak out once more and you take the moment to run and escape the cave.

- You run into Crime Alley and hide out there for a bit before "dying"

- the family finds you, mourns you, and is about to take you and bury you when Jason snaps and runs off with Damian to kill the villain. The rest of the family follows to try and stop them (Steph actually doesn't care whether the villain dies or not, she just wants to watch it go down)

- When they return you've already gotten out and run off. They don't realize this - thinking it was just an animal or something that caused the hole and such.

- Barbara, Batman and Tim proceed to have a heart attack when they see your comm online and see you in person a couple nights later.

I hope that makes a bit of sense!! I love long asks so so much and I'm sorry I've been gone for so long 😔

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ctimenefic · 15 hours ago

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i’m obsessed w ur mean dom george and his boy scout knots, even more so w the events of this weekend and the weird amount of flirting him and max have been doing recently!! i could totally be barking up the wrong tree with gax vibes but they have been really fun this year

Okay forgive me nonny for typing directly into the answer box, the typos will be horrendous, but I'm in a tiny french café right now and unfortunately dom george gax has seized my mind so:

Max Verstappen propping up the VIP bar at the Bellagio is not George's problem at 9.04 on Monday, when his hangover is beating a tattoo between his eyebrows that even his largest pair of sunglasses can't hide. His GPDA hours are strictly 9-5, Wednesday through Sunday. On Mondays, he gets peace, he gets quiet, he gets to order precisely one hair of the dog Bloody Mary and crunch through the celery in private.

Max orders another gin and tonic without tearing his eyes from the door, and George sighs.

He'd texted himself, last night, somewhere between the first club and the second. Assumed, naturally, that Danny's one-man tour of the US would have to hit Vegas for Max's fourth, even if he was conspicuously absent from the race itself. But when he checks now, there's still no reply.

His "G'morning" rumbles out, frightfully inarticulate, throat still whisky-burnt. Max spares him a bleary glance.

"Is it?" He sounds dopey drunk. His mouth looks sticky. George's mum loves a G&T too; she used to tuck him in at night, suddenly fond and warm and cuddly, and the smell would tickle his nose, comforting and disorienting in equal measure. It's never the gin that lingers, always the lime and the lemon. Max should switch to Hendricks, with its cucumber twist. It would suit him better.

"Are you staying here?" he asks. Max blinks, makes a nod that's half a shrug. Good enough. "Are you packed? When's your flight?"

"It's my plane," Max says mulishly, like he hasn't got at least three friends - or maybe it should be colleagues at this point - booked in for AirMax. Not George, of course. George is travelling with Toto. He's quite looking forward to it, ten hours in quiet approval, thumbing through The Times on an iPad, starting from the Sport section.

He doesn't bother pointing out the obvious, but he does allow himself a couple of disapproving tuts. It's surprising when Max's shoulders curl, slightly, a flush crawling up from under the collar of his hideous team jacket.

George checks his watch. He's got time, he supposes, to play the good Samaritan.

(When Max's red eyes flick back to the door, he thinks he might've done it anyway, his fifteen minute buffer be damned)

"Let's get you to bed, then, shall we?" It doesn't take much to haul Max upright. They're all easy enough to throw about, if you've got the strength. But he's not expecting Max to tuck into his side, nod into his shoulder and chest.

He manoeuvres them both to the lifts with minimal interruption, which is a relief. Max is more pliable than at the bar, but practically useless. He's on one of the keycard-only floors, because of course he is, four time champ and maddeningly casual about it. George has to rummage through his pockets for it; Max makes an insultingly shocked noise when George slides long fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. "Don't get excited," he scolds.

Something twitches under his fingertips. The firm hard line of the keycard is nudged into his grip.

George raises his eyebrows, tilts his chin, and turns to tap it, secure their no-stop ride through a ludicrous number of floors.

Then he spins back, and Max's inordinately large mouth is fastened to his jaw.

Detaching him takes some effort. "We are going to bed," Max argues, as George cranes his neck away.

The lifts had seemed too big before, American big, a fun house of mirrors exaggerating the gilt and gaud of it all. Now he could do with a couple of square miles more between him and the drunk determined look in Max's eye.

He's looking straight at George, but not like he's ever looked at him before. There's nothing to recognise in those eyes.

("I saw Max in the bar," he'll tell media in three days, a wry smirk on like cheap perfume. "But he didn't see me." And then he'll get the recognition he wants, surprise and a flicker of heat, quickly doused. A bit mean, to do it for the cameras. But he'll know by then, that Max likes it mean.)

"No," he says now. He fits his hand across Max's chest, between the swell of his pecs. Palm against his sternum, thumb and fingertips pressed to his collarbones. The span of it makes Max look small. His eyes have gone lidded.

"No," he says again, and presses firmly. Max is lax against the mirrored wall, mouth still open. Drunk, but neither of them are passing a sobriety test right now. George's driver is probably getting a coffee right now, checking the time. George won't make him wait. He's considerate like that.

Four floors zip by in quick succession.

"Not until I say," he tells Max, firm. Forgiving.

He steps into Max's space slowly. Makes him wait, straining against the pressure of George's hand, until he deigns to lean down and lick into that gin-sour mouth.

Max is sloppy, uncoordinated. George keeps his hand where it is but lets Max grab at his waist, his arse. He grinds like a puppy when George slips a thigh between his, but his dick's either even smaller than the paddock gossip says, or suffering from one too many doubles.

It doesn't matter. It's always been enough for George to be wanted. To grant, or withhold.

It doesn't even sting now, when they're surprised to want him. All of his victories will always be a shock.

He stops Max from straying up his jawline or down his neck. He doesn't want to spend his flight sticky, grime against the prickle of a fresh shave. Keeps it to kissing, a light nip at Max's bee-stung bottom lip when he gets pushy.

He's got one eye on the dial, though, so when the door opens on Max's floor, with its implausible colonnade, George has stepped back, just a friendly finger and thumb holding Max's chin. The blue of his irises has almost disappeared behind the black of his pupil.

"Bed," George orders, sharp, and Max stumbles out with more speed than George thinks he'd get sober. Sober Max would fight all the way down; it'd take hours to get him sweet. It'd be time well spent.

He follows at his own pace, pleased to see Max holding the door open for him, hands shoved deep into his pockets in a poor show of casualness. It's lost the second George steps inside and Max is on him again, fingers scrabbling to pull George's shirt out of his pressed slacks.

When he pushes Max off this time, he wraps his hand against the base of his throat. Squeezes, just a little.

"Shirt. Jeans. Off. Bed," he orders, clipped and quiet. Max looks delightful when they hit home, stunned and open and young. George quite badly wants to put his thumb on Max's tongue, watch him drool around it. But he's being good; he's got a plane to catch. He holds himself still for the clumsy minutes it takes Max to comply, waits until Max is flat on the bed, duvet kicked down to the foot of the bed.

Bless him, he's still soft in his boxers. But his face is enough for George to know.

Daniel had liked it too, when George had put him on his back and told him to stay still. That cocky grin wiped off his face for a long minute, brown eyes blown wide. Maybe that's their problem, Max and Danny. No one to give the orders.

He allows himself just this: a trail of fingers, up the length of Max's leg, over the meat of his thigh, the softness of his stomach. A flick against a hard nipple, and a light chuckle at the full body jerk Max makes under him.

And then, with a flourish worthy of a Vegas magician, he yanks the duvet up to Max's neck. "Sleep it off, you madman."

Max's fury is a series of choked, inarticulate noises George would relish extracting in other circumstances. Luckily, Max has not regained any of his mobility; he fights against the duvet, but George has easily enough time to tuck himself up against his waistband, hidden by the fall of his trousers, and make it to the door.

"Congratulations again," he throws back, before it closes behind him. He finds he means it.

He's on the pavement, monogrammed carry on in hand, just as his driver pulls up. He makes a note to tell Alex, with some elisions. He could use a reminder of the value of punctuality.

There's a sign on the freeway, just before the airport. "What happens in..." and so on. Somehow, he's not convinced Max will see it that way come Qatar. But-

It lingers, the sight of Max's face. Not spitting angry, or dumb with lust, the need to submit. But tired and empty and hopeful nonetheless, eyes fixed on the entrance of the bar.

Disappointed not to see you in Vegas, he texts Daniel as Toto and Susie settle in opposite him. You should make it up to me.

That, Danny replies to.

to my winner? 👅👅💦

Yes, George types. Both of us.

#gax #dorge #and the threat of something else #f1 rpf fic #answered asks #my fic #now with a read more line to save your dash sorry!

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joannerowling · 1 day ago

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What that wasn’t in the movies do you hope they include in the new show 😋 they better do it justice or elseee. If they game of thrones-ify it I’ll kill someone

PS: Peeves is confirmed! I'd love for the show to include some of Vernon's POV in the first chapter, because it's such a funny and iconic introduction, and spend a bit longer on Harry's awful life at the Dursleys. Ron throwing hands with Malfoy. The twins shooting snowballs at the back of Quirrell's head. Also, PLEASE, an accurate depiction of the way Hermione deals with the Devil Snare. Do NOT cut Ron's "are you a witch or what?!" line again i'm begging!

CoS: Nearly-Headless Nick's anniversary is a popular one i subscribe to! And Ginny's Valentine card ("his eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad"). Percy being a bit more present.

PoA: Hermione and Ron working on Buckbeak's case, Hermione's Girlboss Day where she quits Divination and slaps Malfoy in the span of a few hours (and Ron's reaction to it). Hermione making fun of Ron for believing in the Grim. Oliver crying tears of joy after winning the Quidditch Cup.

GoF: Ok, now we're in business. Give me the SPEW sideplot, including Dobby's salary, drunk Winky and the kitchens. Also, don't skip over the harrassment Hermione gets from Skeeter, let her grow obsessed with finding out how she manages to evesdrop on conversations (specifically, i need that scene where Hermione is wondering aloud about her while viciously grinding beetles into dust in Potions class) and trap her in an unbreakable jar.

OotP: Three words: Department 👏 of 👏Mysteries 👏 SHOW US ALL THE ROOMS, especially the Time Room (let us freak out about the baby-headed Deatheater!!!) and the Brain Room (let Ron Weasley get his sexy scars from being strangled by flying brain tentacles). Harry throwing hands with Malfoy. Harry and Ron making shit up for Divination class. Divination teacher Firenze (i know it doesn't bring a lot to the story but i want Hermione to call out Parvati about her horse fetish). Hermione cursing Marietta Edgecombe with acne spelling "SNITCH" on her forehead (again, probably won't happen as it's maybe too gross for tv but one can dream). Ginny and Harry bonding.

HBP: That one scene where Harry brutally assassinate a seed while Ron and Hermione are trying and spectacularly failing to arrange a date. The Gaunts memory and also the one where Voldemort comes back to Hogwarts and tries to get the DADA teaching gig.

DH: Harry's 17th birthday including the cake. Ron punching Malfoy in the face while invisible and yelling at him "that's the second time we save your life this evening arsehole". Potterwatch. Fred's death. Ron and Hermione's first kiss happening exactly as ridiculously as it did in the book. Harry calling Hermione "like a sister" and embracing Ron after his return. NOT showing us the trapped bit of Voldemort's soul in purgatory King's Cross, because not seeing it makes it scarier.

#replies #anon #at the top of my head

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androdragynous · 7 hours ago

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seconding ^ anything to do with a specific style / medium choice / rendering decision/ whatever is never going to be universally applicable advice and it's usually detrimental if you have a preference for your workflow that doesn't meld with the advisor's. I draw in a way that I was told was messy and unappealing for years, but I like it and I'm having fun, and other people seem to be enjoying it :3

"drawing (thing) would make you more popular" - it's just statistics. if more people know about a thing than more people would want to see stuff from it. statistically, we should all be doing rothkos because everyone knows what a color is so that's got maximum appeal,but we don't do that, because personal interest and tastes always matter to both how a piece is created and how it is recieved by others. people are going to draw the same things you are forever so put your own flair in it and experiment with shit that's fun

"if you want to sell art, draw porn" - it does not work like this.

"you'd sell more commissions if they were cheaper" - selling one $50 comm is the same as five $10 comms and you do 1/5th of the work. quantity is not the goal. also learn how to send a paypal invoice

artist friends: what are some art tips youve been given/have given that you now think are unhelpful/provably NOT true? for example - 'don't shade with black!' is one i used to tell people, until i realized its completely possible to do so successfully in diff styles

also - this is the tutorial that explained shading with black to me in a way that made sense! please check it out, its by datcravat on tumblr!

#reblog #gets shy about adding commentary on the adding commentary post #canonqueuer #tears pff my shirt to reveal another shirt that says IF YOU DONT LIKE SHADING WITH BLACK READ MORE COMICS

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dreameryfics · 20 hours ago

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JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: You and JJ talk about what happened

We didn't know it at the time, but today would change everything. Hurricane Agatha swept over the island, leaving destruction in her path, although if you look at Figure 8, it seems like just a small storm hit. The Cut looks rough to say the absolute least. I was helping my parents clean out the backyard, knowing they were already hiring people to fix the electricity that went out. All I really wanted to do was hang out with the Pogues, but I knew that wouldn't happen until later.

Sarah had come over to the house and told me about the kegger that was happening later in the night. As soon as I was done helping in the backyard, I headed to Heyward's to help. "Those dumbass friends took Pope with them," Heyward told me as he was cleaning up around the dock. "I'm gonna ground his ass for life," I walk over and start helping him clean up. If Pope had left, Heyward was trying to clean everything by himself. "I'll make sure to tell him that next time I see him," I tell him which causes him to chuckle.

"Do you think your parents will trade you for Pope?" he jokes. I let out a laugh and shake my head at him, he already knows the answer. Can't have anything wrong with our picture-perfect family, and Pope was a Pogue at the end of the day. "When I turn 18, I'm coming and living with you." Heyward pats my shoulder before pulling me into a side hug. He presses a small kiss on the top of my head before walking back to the piles of debris he was working on.

We spent the rest of the day cleaning, only taking a break to eat some food he made the day before. I got a text from Sarah reminding me about the party. "Hey, there's a small bonfire happening later and I was planning on going," I set the broom down and look over at Heyward, "I can come back tomorrow and help though!"

Heyward looks at me and shakes his head, "Don't worry about it sweetie, you helped so much already." He walks over to me and takes the rag off my shoulder. "Can't have you going anywhere with that," he chuckles at me before shooing me out of the shop. I walk back to Figure 8 and quickly get changed out of my dirty clothes. I quickly throw on a mini dress. Sarah was wearing a dress and she requested I did too. I threw on my high tops and headed down to the beach.

It didn't take long to find Sarah, she was with Topper. I hung out with them for a bit before I looked and saw JJ, John B, and Kie handing out drinks to Tourons. I made my way over to them and nudged Kie's shoulder, "Having fun?" I ask her before looking over at the two boys, "See anybody worth talking to?" I heard John B scoff before going back to filling up red solo cups. "I'll take that as a no."

I stay with them for a while before walking around. It was getting dark now and I was swaying to the music. "Hey, loser!" I heard the distinct voice of JJ say, I looked around and saw he was definitely talking to me. I roll my eyes at him before flipping him off. "You want this?" He holds out a red solo cup to me and I shake my head no.

"Why don't you just drink it?" I ask as if it was the most obvious answer. He walks over to me and rests his arm around my shoulders, "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to come talk to you?" I feel the warmth rise to my face and smile at him. "You know you don't have to have an excuse to talk to me."

"I know, but all your Kooky friends are here," he whispers into my ear. I turn to face him and put my arms around his neck, forcing him to dance with me. "I don't care if they know you're my friend J." I hear his breathing hitch for just a second when I put my arms around him. He places one hand on my waist, still holding the cup in his other hand.

"Listen, as much as I hate the Kooks, I don't want to make you a social pariah because you're hanging out with a Pogue" he looks deep into my eyes. He was trying to read me, but he knew what I thought about it.

"JJ," I stand on my tiptoes to get closer to his face and I brush my lips against his ear, "I don't care what they think." I take his face in my hands and press a small kiss on his lips. I may have been a little drunk, but sober me wanted to do this for years. I pulled away and looked into his eyes before he leaned down and kissed me back. He placed his empty hand on the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. It felt like it was just the two of us on that beach for a moment.

We were quickly pulled back to reality when someone bumped into us. I feel an arm holding me so I don't fall and I suddenly realize that someone is looking at us: Topper. JJ looks over and sees Topper standing with Sarah, getting ready to leave. JJ sees the interaction Topper and I are having, and JJ being JJ, he gets in the middle of it. He walks over, cup in hand, and tries to offer it to Sarah. Next thing I know, the cup goes flying and a fight breaks out between Topper and John B.

JJ ends up pulling a gun on Topper, leaving me wondering where the hell he got that from. John B fell face down into the water, Kie and I rushing over to him as JJ let off some shots. We got John B back to the Chateau and I headed home, all of us deciding not to talk about what happened.

The next morning, I wake up and head to the Chateau. Everybody is there talking about Sheriff Peterkin. I stand next to Pope and just listen to what's being said, knowing I'll have to ask about it later. Right now, I need to talk with JJ. I walk over to the dock, thinking about what to say to him. It doesn't take long before I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and see JJ looking at me. My heart beats just a little faster, remembering our kiss from last night. He walks over to me and sits along the ledge.

"Do you think we would ever work? Like if you weren't Kook royalty and I wasn't, well me?" JJ scratches his forehead before looking over at me, anticipating an answer. I look at him and I can't help but study his face. "Just after last night, I can't pretend that what happened, didn't happen."

JJ and I have always had a flirty friendship. We always stole hushed glances when the other wasn't looking. We knew everything there was to know about the other person. We knew what each other was thinking without saying it. We would always do the same thing without realizing it. We were just two people hopelessly in love, but staying quiet about it for the sake of our friendship; until now. "JJ, I can't pretend either." I walk over to him and he jumps down off the ledge, now standing directly in front of me. He places the palm of his hand against my face and I lean into it.

"So, what does this mean?" JJ asks looking down at me with a smile on his face. I shrug my shoulders at him, "I don't know. All I know is I can't keep pretending I don't have these feelings for you." I take his hand in mine and intertwine our fingers.

"Good, 'cause I've wanted to do this for a long damn time," JJ tells me before placing his hands on my face and pulling me into him. He places a kiss on my lips and entangles his hands in my hair. I pull him closer to me and deepen the kiss. We finally break apart and I can see his heavy breathing matching mine. I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest. He plays with my hair before we hear someone behind us clear their throat. I turn around and see John B staring at us with wide eyes.

"Uhh-" John B turns away and starts to walk away before glancing back at us, "About time." I look at him and he gives us a small smile before walking back to the house. I glance up at JJ and chuckle.

So it turns out, everybody was betting when we would get together: Pope won.

#masterlist #fanfic #request #requests open #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #obx #jj x reader #outerbanks jj #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader

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lady-rosceline-hurst · 2 days ago

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...<ADMIN LOGIN REQUESTED>

...<AUTHORIZING...>

...<ACCESS GRANTED>

...<WELCOME ADMINISTRATOR 'EVELYN'>

FUCK. Fuck this. I can't just sit on this anymore. WE can't. I- What are you on about? Panic attacks again? Oh for- NO, Roy. The footage. The FUCKING footage. From that GODDAMN Karrakin House. Ohhhh, that. It's really got you fired up, huh? I haven't seen you like this since-

...<USERNAME CHANGE AUTHORIZED>

...<WELCOME ADMINISTRATOR 'JESTER'>

RA below... You're that serious about this? Yes. ... My pilot. My host. My other half. You who saved me from being shoved back into that prison of the mind they call shackling... I stood by you when you made the decision to leave the cockpit because I knew it would be best for you. Best for us. I've had my fun with these nobles. But this is different. This information is so sensitive... This isn't stirring the pot, this is tipping it over. I will stand by you, but we have to decide together, and for certain. I don't care about these meatbags. They're nothing but entertainment to me. You're the only one. So tell me beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is worth the risk to you, and I will stand by you again.

It is, Roy. People need to know. Maybe not all of fuckin Karrakin space... But at least these people. I'm sure that girl has some kind of plan, but I can't stand by and do nothing at all.

My pilot. My Evie. Always playing the hero. It's in your bones, I think. Heh. Alrighty. Heheheh. I'll start encrypting. Put a mass message together and let's do this shit. It's almost like old times... 'cept Roach and King ain't here to save our asses if things go wrong.

...<ENCRYPTING FILES>

...<UPLOADING VIDEO FILE>

...<MASS MESSAGE SENT>

...

Timestamp: Nov 28, 5016u - 1:56 AM

[What appears to be security footage of a Karrakin Throne Room. A woman sits cross-legged upon this throne. Her hair is brown, but she has yellow eyes which mark her as a Hurst. Other people occupy the room. Guards. Serfs. Rosceline Hurst kneels at the base of the throne. Her eyes are puffy and red. She wears a terrified expression.]

Rosceline: Mother I-

???: Mother? Girl, thou dost know tis a privilege to refer to me thus. A privilege that I have not been made to take away in some years... until now.

Rosceline: Of course, Lady Violet. Mine deepest and sincerest apologies, Lady Violet.

Violet: Rosceline Hurst. Thou hast done a truly staggering amount of damage in but a single night. Where to begin... Thou, as mine Heiress, hast shown weakness in thyself upon a public platform. Thou hast revealed vulnerabilities in our House upon a public. Platform. Thou hast exposed our lies concerning thine sister's disappearance for what they art upon a PUBLIC. PLATFORM. Thou hast exposed us to our enemies, Rosceline. Thou hast EMBARRASSED me for no small number of reasons. I am beyond disappointed. I am disgusted. I thought thee better. I made thee better. Explain thyself. Now.

[Rosceline begins to shake]

Rosceline: M- ... Lady Violet... I make no excuse for mine actions. I... had a moment of weakness. Tis the pressure of all that hath transpired since Rebecca's disappearance. I had thought mine own self stronger. Verily, I have failed thee. But... But I shall fix it! Only allow me another chance and I shall fix it! And it shall never happen again, I do swear!

Violet: <sigh> I do fear the damage thou hast done hath put us well past that, Rosceline. Hast thou any idea how troublesome it shall be to clean up this mess? The letters I should have to write... Egads... No... No, Rosceline.

[Violet claps her hands.]

Violet: Guards.

Rosceline: Wha-

[The guards move to turn on the servants in the room, grabbing each serf to immobilize them. A panic begins, but with a snap of Violet's fingers it is snuffed out within seconds.]

Violet: Choose.

[Rosceline's breaths become shorter. Desperate.]

Rosceline: M-my Lady, I am afraid I- I do not-

Violet: Choose. Thou dost understand the punishment, dost thou not? Or hast thou forgotten? Thine weakness was the cause of this, Rosceline. So, choose who shall face the consequences. These Ignobles, or thyself. Either the decision shall be simple or thou dost prove to me that thou hast need of correction.

[Tears begin to drip down Rosceline's cheeks.]

Rosceline: Prithee... Prithee do not make me do this...

Violet: Thou dost test mine patience, girl. Choose.

Rosceline: ...

Violet: ROSCELINE.

Rosceline: M-myself. I do choose myself.

[A wave of whispers washes through the crowd. It is dismissed with another snap.]

Violet: <sigh> Rosceline... Sweet Rosceline. Soft Rosceline. STUPID Rosceline. Tis as I feared... Guards.

[Violet claps her hands once more.]

Violet: Take them all to the dungeons. Including mine Heiress.

[The servants begin screaming as the guards begin to drag them away. Rosceline is apprehended as well. Her remaining words are uttered through tears and wails.]

Rosceline: THOU DID LIE TO ME!

Violet: Of course I did, thou little fucking brat. If only thou had made the right decision. Verily, I would have let everyone walk free. But since thou doth insist upon sentimentality befitting a House of Water Republican, they shall pay the price alongside thee. Mayhap thou shall be reminded by example of the ruthlessness thou art meant to embody.

[Rosceline continues to wail. Over the course of a minute, she and the servants are removed from the room.]

#ooc i worked so goddamn hard on this #ooc the following tags probably make this sound a lot worse than it is and this is a lancer rp community but i'd rather be safe than sorry #tw: parental abuse #tw manipulation #tw psychological abuse #tw what i can only describe as some Game of Thrones ass shit. Nothing explicitly violent though.#nothing is off in the hurst estate #lancer rpg #karrakin trade baronies #lancer ttrpg #ktb #lancer rp #oc rp #lancer oc #oc rp blog #lancerrpg

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k-yurieee · 13 hours ago

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'ALMOST ALWAYS' CHAPTER 4 IS HERE!! WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! 🎉🎉

(Edit 3 : I started writing this post/reblog last week Monday. Don't worry about what day it is today. I just kept nitpicking at it and having more thoughts that I wanted to add everytime I came back to this, and time kept getting away from me because of irl events, sooo yeah. Stuff happens.)

Edit 1 : My usual yapping will be under the cut for this one, cause I might ramble on for bit longer than usual today. Yeah, I've got some things to say. They might not be particularly intelligible, but is anything I ever say on this app comprehensible? Probably not. Soooooo buckle up I guess 🤷‍♀️

Edit 2 : (also please ignore that I'm posting this like wayyyy after I've read this chapter, I had this saved and edited as a draft and thought I had posted it after editing it, before I decided to take a nap, but... Guess I was mistaken lol. And sleep deprived, but that's besides the point. Also I guess the draft didn't even save properly earlier??? Because I'm rereading the whole thing now and I'm pretty sure there's stuff I added earlier that seems to be missing now so.... That's sooo fun haha 🙃 I'll try to re-add anything I can remember 🫡)

Edit 1 (continued) : ohhhhh my gosh, this chapter was another ✨emotional rollercoaster✨ (which isn't anything new with this series, and honestly I should've expected it but mannnn, it just gets me every. single. time 😭😭😔)

Let me just quickly gush about this part first because EEEEEEEEhEEhEEEeeeee I can never NOT giggle and kick my feet over sweet moments like this, are you KIDDING me, I'm an absolute sucker for fluff, and I will die on that hill (also I just need to let myself simmer in this fluffy warmth before I divulge into my slightly more serious thoughts, I'll get to those in a second but firsttttt LOOK AT THIS ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEE👇👇👇😭😭😭😭)

'You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.'

When I tell you this made me wanna scream (wouldn't be the first time this fic affected me this way lolll) into my hands and jump up and down 😭😭😭 like girl can you PLEASE be normal (and by 'you', I mean 'I', as in ME. I need to relax lmaoooo 🙃)

This chapter... This chapter was so much. I truly am not sure how to put into proper words everything it made me feel, but I will try. Honestly I feel (and have felt) more than a bit conflicted about them (Joe & R, obvs). And I mean, that's kind of expected, right?

I want to support them but I also low-key want to smack them both upside their head sometimes (but like, in an affectionate 'why did you do that, you flippin idiot, I believe in you and know you can act better than this' kind of way)

It made me remember this quote I heard a while back that went something like "sometimes we dislike other people because we see the parts of ourselves that we dislike, in them". And it irked me because it reminded me of how I'd treated certain people in my life before, in ways that I'm not proud to admit. In one of the previous chapters, Joe had a thought somewhere along the lines of "I can't control my feelings, but I can control how I treat others", and I thought 'this is great, he knows how he should move forward, good for him, he's learned his lesson.' And I hoped it would be the same for the Reader character as well, and that both of them would implement this afterward.

And then... Then this chapter happened, and yeah, maybe they weren't in a completely committed relationship with the people who were sleeping in their beds, and maybe they 'weren't doing anything illegal', and all that, but... They could still be hurting someone else's feelings. Again. Low-key I had my face in my hands like "guys please, I know y'all can't stay away from each other, and I want you guys to end up together too but likeee there's got to be a better way to do this, pleaseeee" 🛐 😭

And maybe that's the point. They're human. They make mistakes. Sometimes they learn and grow from their past mistakes, and sometimes they continue doing the same stupid thing a million times over even if they know it won't end well for them. And it was when they made those questionable choices, when they tried to pretend that their problems didn't exist, when they constantly made excuses and kept repeating the same regrettable cycle over and over – it was during of all those moments that I looked at these characters, and I saw a part of myself. Parts of myself that I didn't like, but acknowledged was there nonetheless. It was these aspects that I could personally relate to.

This is why they feel so fucking REAL to me.

I just really hope things will end well for everyone in the last chapter because mannnn 🥲🥲😭

'But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.'

This part hurt me more than it should 😭😭😭😭

(I know I wrote more about my personal feelings than about the actual fic, but like I said before, I had written more about it - over a week ago - in this draft that didn't save properly, and my memory is generally not that great, sooo yeah. I at least know that I had some thoughts about Emily's response to the whole situation and stuff but I can't recall anything specific I'd written rn. I want to reread this chapter at some point to see if it re-sparks any of those thoughts I had last time but... we'll see lol.)

Anywayssss I can't believe there is just ONE more chapter left to this series omggggg this fic has been an experience for sure

(I'm gonna need to lie down again aren't I 🥲🙃)

Almost, Always

♥ ♥ Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: -

Wordcount: 6.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”

Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.

“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”

You knew exactly what she was going to say.

She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.

“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.”

You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.

But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.

Not a truth you wanted to face though.

There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.

So... you made them.

But Emily’s face remained quite serious.

“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.

“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”

You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.

Good.

Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.

“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”

“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”

“Well, he–”

“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”

“Emily.”

“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”

For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.

“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”

Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”

He wasn’t.

These were two different leagues.

But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.

It always did.

Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.

But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.

You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.

“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.

Joe had just shrugged then.

“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”

And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.

You hadn’t.

You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.

“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”

“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”

“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.

“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.

Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”

You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”

It was a nice bag.

“Not exactly the same is it.”

No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.

“Still counts.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.

“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.

Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.

You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.

“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.

“He’s– what?”

“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”

Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.

“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”

You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.

“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”

You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.

Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.

You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”

You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.

It’s been weeks.

Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”

You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.

Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.

It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.

Her advice.

Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.

Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.

You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.

The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.

It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.

You thought she’d be the same.

You thought she’d absolutely love it.

But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.

It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.

You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.

It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.

You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.

“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”

Something is wrong though.

Obviously.

You just left someone in your bed for this.

Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.

“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”

A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.

“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”

A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.

“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”

No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.

That wasn’t the plan.

With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.

In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.

You just want an answer.

But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.

You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.

When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.

“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”

You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.

It’s the fucking middle of the night.

It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.

“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.

“Did you close the door?”

You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.

“What? No. I–”

“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.

“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”

Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.

You go to close his front door.

In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.

Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.

“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.

You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.

“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”

Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.

He looks tired.

Which, yea, that checks out.

You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?

There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.

But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.

“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.

“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.

You turn back to him.

“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.”

Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.

“I’ll go get my phone.”

And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.

That’s new.

That’s... weird.

When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.

“Why did you call me?”

“Just–”

“I’ll read the text.”

In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.

His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.

“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”

“Read it.”

It startles you.

“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Read your message.”

You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.

Guilt.

Regret.

Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.

Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.

You shouldn’t have come.

You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.

“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”

You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.

He’s right.

The damage has been done.

You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.

The only way out seems through.

You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.

“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.

Read the fucking text.

You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.

“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”

“What we were together”

“Was that really as good as it can get?”

“Ever?”

You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.

Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.

Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.

Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.

And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?

Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.

What the fuck.

You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.

What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?

And why is it so fucking hot in here?

The only way out is through.

You read Joe’s text.

“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”

A non-answer.

You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.

It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.

You frown and read the message again.

For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.

It’s late, though.

You inhale deeply. Slowly.

Then, resign.

“Okay.”

Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?

Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...

“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.

Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”

He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–

“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.

Finally, you remove your coat.

“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”

“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”

“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”

“It’s not?”

“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.

Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.

“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”

“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.

It’s condescending.

Patronising.

Joe’s making fun of you.

“All right, be fucking honest or–”

“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”

You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.

Were we as good as we’re going to get?

“Imposing question, though.”

Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.

“I don’t know.”

Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.

“You don’t know.”

Typical.

“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”

You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”

And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.

You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?

“Why um... why have you been crying?”

“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”

Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.

“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”

They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.

Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”

“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.

Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.

Wishes he could help.

Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.

Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.

“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”

And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”

Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.

“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.

“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”

Joe doesn’t laugh.

“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”

“Probably?”

“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”

Hmm.

You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.

“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”

Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.

The before saves it, a little.

The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.

Who knows what you’d be like now.

Joe can’t predict the future.

And neither can you.

“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.

“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”

You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.

“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”

Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.

“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”

You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.

You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.

But then Joe decides you can’t just go.

You can’t just leave.

He’s stuck.

You’re stuck.

You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.

It’s weird that you willingly came back.

Keep coming back.

And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.

But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.

He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.

Says, “Come sit for a second.”

And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.

He’s not doing anything illegal.

Well.

There’s a girl in his bed.

It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.

He doesn’t want you to leave now.

There’s a girl in his bed.

And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.

Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.

He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.

“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.

You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.

But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.

There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.

You take the blanket from Joe.

It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.

“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”

“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”

Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.

“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.

“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”

Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.

He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.

You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.

It’s warm in Joe’s flat.

And this little nest is perfect.

“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”

Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.

You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.

Neither does Joe.

Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.

But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.

You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.

You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.

A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.

Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”

You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.

All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.

But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”

That takes minute to land.

It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?

When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.

Right.

Emily can fuck off.

You don’t deserve each other.

You deserve better than this.

Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.

You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.

This is such a mess.

“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.

You should leave.

Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.

Never come back.

Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.

But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”

You drop your hands.

Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.

You should leave.

“Um…”

Oh... oh no.

“Yea…”

Fuck.

So close.

“Yea?”

You almost had it.

“Yea. I could use a coffee.”

Almost.

---

The Taglisted

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add yourself

#this fic is almost over and I'm NOT emotionally prepared hahaaa :'))#what even happened this week... man idk time is wackkkk #kyu_reads_fanfic

154 notes · View notes

glitter-stained · 18 hours ago

Note

Sense the current state of jason as character is stagnant do you think dc will ever purplish a good story of him, maybe he even kills of his red hood persona and goes on to be something else that would be something I would like to see but I don’t think it will happen. Dc will forever shoehorn him in to the batfamily. At least in his anti-villian era he was actually fun now his character is in a pitiful state

do u think theirs a chance of reinvent him as character anytime soon ?

Well first of all through spite everything is possible, so jot that down.

Like seriously, remember when it was so so incredibly over like Spiderman's Uncle Ben levels of over and then Under the Hood happened? Hell yeah I think dc will publish a good Jason story

Second I may not be the best person for this ask because I like my blorbos pitiful and miserable. Like yeah defiance is awesome but exhaustion -in characters who have been angry and alone for so long, beaten dog who got electrocuted too often to bite back- has a special place in my heart. But I also agree this has to be a transitional part of a story, the arc can't be "well he was hurt and then he was angry and then he was tired and he was miserable the whole time". Unless of course he ends up perma-dying in a really meaningful arc centered around his character but I'm not sure that'd be what I want for him, and we all know how lame dc is with permadeath nowadays. I'm also very mitigated with his villain side because yeah sometimes it's very fun and cathartic to see the angry/bad victim trope, but also the classismXpsychophobia of villain Red Hood sometimes are just too much; and also I'm a jaybin fan and sometimes I feel betrayed on jaybin's behalf by elements of his villainous characterization. (One day I'll write that damned UTH rewrite, I will).

With that being said!!! I love Jason because of his potential, he has so so much of it, that's what's exhausting about his many bad comics is that yeah. Yeah, dc can absolutely publish something more than good. They don't understand the goldmine they're sitting on in terms of potential.

What I'd love to see explored in hypothetical upcoming good comics (i'll talk more about it later with malfiora but for now)/how dc could go about reinventing his character :

1) addressing Jason's suicidality and getting him a functional support system (seriously, something's gotta give)

2) Get that boy a dog. Ik he had one at some point in N52 idc give him more dogs. Big ass rescue dog that's loyal and similar to him.

2) we need to figure out a way to let Jason keep being a Crime Alley/Park Row vigilant without being dependent on Batman. Like yeah he should explore the world away from him and heal but also i'm very uncomfortable with the idea that healing, for Jason, has to mean leaving the city and neighbourhood he grew up in and protected, has to mean be shoved out of his home by a guy who doesn't live there and, at least when Jason was a kid, only visited the place one time a year because of the anniversary of his parents' death- it's not fair and I won't accept it.

3) I so so agree about the "killing the red hood persona" or at the very least changing his vigilant name. Like I get the point, I understand the use he had for him, but his story can't be centered around the Joker forever (I keep thinking about the Joker's attitude to him in The Man who stopped Laughing and god, I can see a driving force to find himself as something else than what Batman and the Joker made him). At some point his name has to become something that is his and turned towards the future.

4) art + story that acknowledges how young he is (someone please let Jason take college class please please he deserves it)

5) perhaps most importantly: batman writers often sound like hardcore deontology or hardcore utilitarianism (and the occasional egoism) are the only acceptable moral philosophies. And for characters, it works! Like I can see Batman as a Kantian, sure. But for others, it doesn't fit as well.*

The cool thing about Jason's character right now is that he's a utilitarian, but a utilitarian that often isn't guided by his values. He can and will compromise on his philosophy in the name of love and being loved ( @bestangelofall called that a morality leash) and that already sets him as an interesting character in his own right. But in terms of redefining himself as a person after decades of defining himself through his pain (which, at 20-23 years old, he should get to do) I'd love to see an evolution of his morals based on love. Specifically, I'd love from his morals to shift from mathematical utilitarianism to agape, an ancient greek concept of platonic love for everything human, a movement towards the other that can be thought of as close to some conceptualisations of empathy. Mind you, that doesn't mean that he would stop killing! I can believe in a Jason who kills because or against of agape, the pain or relief that could be so good to explore in relation to that, how he would go on to define himself as a person... I feel like Jason has a certain tendency to kinda dehumanize the worst criminals as he kills them (a lesson from Judy, love her sm) which I love, but would also love to see him grow out of - learn to see and love everyone as human and what it means, a re-exploration of his empathy.

Imagine: a scene where he kills a guy because a kid victim begged him to. The focus on the image is on the kid's big wide tearstruck eyes, and then Jason's uncertain face, the kid begging him to kill the bad guy. And then Jason kills him and they're standing so close to eachother, and he's look him in the eyes and seeing the image of the kid's eyes, and then turning back to the kid while wiping the blood on his face and seeing the kid's wide eyes looking in disbelieving awe. And then kneeling and hugging the kid as he cries his heart out. And Jason's inner monologue during all that being something like "I could say that I killed him because I'm a bad guy; I probably am. Or argue the world is better off without scum like him; I could pretend I did it so he wouldn't hurt [x] again, or that I was thinking about all the other children he wouldn't be able to hurt anymore. But the truth is, I didn't. I killed him because [x] asked me to; because I could tell that he needed it. I can live with that."

Idk, that's the direction I would love to see it going, but simply "becoming even more open, louder and unapologetic about prioritising his love over his values, and being angry when it causes him dilemma" is something I'd love with as way. Very "Odysseus knows what he's going to choose the moment the gods tell him to throw the baby off the wall to see Penelope and Telemachus, but fuck if he's angry at the gods for making him make that choice" kind of vibe if you like Epic the musical.

*i'm not saying there aren't any characters in dc that fall out of this deontological/utilitarian false dilemma, it's just a vibe I get from batman writers at times, and as a consequence of specializing in one character I don't feel legitimate in exploring the intricacies of other characters because I feel like I'm lacking information and would be making uneducated guesses (that being said, I would fuck heavily with an exploration of Cass' morals VS Levinas' concept of ethics). If anybody has recommendations of dc characters that are neither utilitarian nor deontological (or are at least an interesting twist to it) I would love them so much please don't hesitate!!!

So yeah, idk if that answers your question, I don't pretend to know the intricate working of dc editorial. But imo there are wonderful possibilities for dc to reinvent Jason and write him into good comics -call me a blue lantern cause baby I got hope.

#jason todd #dc #red hood #dc comics #ask #did i need to go on a rant about philosophy? maybe not but it was fun #jason todd meta

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pixeldolly · 3 days ago

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My Apocalypse Challenge Rules

@coriel-muroz asked me which rules I'm using for my Apocalypse Challenge, and I promised I'd post them. They are largely Phaenoh's, but with a few tweaks/additions by me, which will be written in red. Some of these changes just made sense to me, others I decided to implement because I found they made things more fun (for me).

Mind you, these are just the Restriction Level 1 rules, because I'm nowhere near unlocking Level 2.

Restriction Level #1

You cannot move in or marry in any Sims or pets until the founder reaches the top of their Career.

Family Aspiration Perks may not be redeemed before the above requirement has been met. Interesting Rule Change:

Here you should include a few community lots in your hood at the moment. A military base, a soup kitchen/food bank, and a First Aid station may be built and sims may visit them a few times provided they follow certain rules. While these comm lots *may* include items currently restricted, such as a restaurant stove to feed the hungry. They still need to be very VERY limited.

As for visiting them, the entire family needs to visit when you go. Protection in numbers, you can't leave anyone at home either. If you have toddlers or infants currently, you will have to wait. You may only go out once a week, and you need to visit all before going to any a second time.

Going out only once a week means the rest of the time your founder Sim will be stuck at home skilling/going to work, which is a little dull. The most interesting/fun situations take place on community lots, so I decided to let them visit one community lot per day, instead of all of them in one day.

Your sims may NOT take a job without visiting their new 'place of employment' first. Send your founder down to the military base, first aid station, or soup kitchen to become their newest 'recruit'. Community lots are allowed to break their own rules but no others. You are allowed to eat at the Culinary community lot, and you are allowed to fish at the Oceanography lot, however, you can't have electrical lights at the Medical facility until Science has been lifted, understand?

I can't be bothered getting a bunch of non-electrical lights, plus I have plenty of cool apocalyptic light fixtures, so I get around this restriction by placing a (decorative) generator on each lot. There, electricity is working again!

Update/Rule Change: Teen jobs are restricted even further. Its really just not safe enough out for teens to go by themselves. They may join the military, but if they want to be in medical or culinary, they may only take that job if one of the adults in the house also has that job. Once they themselves are adults they may, of course, switch jobs by visiting a different career center comm lot.

Culinary

You may only prepare food once per sim day. Once any Sim has prepared food, no other may do so for the rest of the day. A Sim making a one-serving meal counts. Baby bottles do not. Filling any pet food bowl counts against the family's "one meal per day".

Sims may not purchase or use anything from the Ovens or Small Appliance category except for the cheapest grill. I also used a hotplate I downloaded, which I think is appropriate. Its hunger rating is only 1.

Grilled Cheese Aspiration Perks may not be redeemed.

Sims may not prepare Gelatin.

Sims may not purchase or use the Nectar Bar or Vending Machines.

Sims may not Give Treats to pets.

Sims may not use the Tea Time table.

Sims may not purchase or use birthday cakes, wedding cakes, the bakery display case or any catering buffet tables.

Sims may NOT store leftovers – in the fridge, in inventory, marked for sale, or in a display case.

Sims may not prepare food, purchase, or eat on community lots, save for one plate per sim at the Food Center. What's the point of building a food center if it's just for show?

You may not use the Delivery menu on the phone to order Pizza or Chinese food.

Only Sims in the Culinary career track can make use of the Chocolate Maker.

Once a Culinary master emerges from the household, new ways are invented to preserve food. Sims learn better ways to cook the artificial food and how to rewire home appliances so they can be used again. They also open up supply chains to coffee growers. All Culinary restrictions are lifted.

Medical

Sims may not use medicine to become well.

You may not give dogs a bath or purchase or use the litter box.

No showers, Medicine Cabinet, or changing tables may be purchased or used.

If a rain collector is present on the lot (there's one in the Castaways conversions packs), a sim may have a bath after it has rained. The rest of the time I keep the tub in their inventory so they can't sneak a bath when I'm not looking. I might also download a mod to enable Sponge Baths at all times.

Pools,sprinklers, hot tubs, and saunas may not be built or used.

Whenever Sims Woohoo, they MUST choose Try for Baby.

That's not how it works, nobody is fertile 100% of the time. Instead, I enable Risky Woohoo in ACR with a fairly high chance of pregnancy (20%)

Sims may not purchase Vamprocillin-D, WitchBeGone, Lycanthropic-B, or Plantophic-C.

Only Sims currently employed in the Medical career may use the Surgical Dummy

Once a leader in the medical field emerges from the family and leads the Red Cross restoration effort, clean running water is restored to the region. Supplies of medicine and contraceptives are now available to the people who need it. The Medical restrictions are lifted.

Military

Sims may not travel to any community lots, except to the required three once a week.

You may not invite over any Sims with two exceptions:

Sims may invite over other Sims they are have red hearts with, or are engaged to. (True love knows no fear.)

If your Sim owns a car (and has it placed on a driveway on the lot), you may also invite over Sims your Sim is best friends with. (Your Sim spins by and picks the buddies up.)

You may purchase the Military Maxis Car after reaching lvl 6.

Teenage Sims may not Ask Permission to Go Out or Sneak Out

Sims may not go Hiking/Jogging or Walk off the lot. I make an exception for Psychosim's Zombie Hunting mod, because it's just so thematically appropriate (military Sims only, ofc)

Only Sims currently in the military can use the Obstacle Course object.

Sims in the military can offer self-defence training to other members of the community at the Obstacle Course. They can't protect everyone all the time, and this way Sims can become better able to fend off zombie attacks. (Community Lot Skilling mod needed)

Once a brave general from the family leads the local National Guard in a strike force against the zombie hordes, the streets will become safe to travel again and the Military restriction is lifted. This is also where I plan to get rid of my Zombie Apocalypse mod (and the zombies) but it's up to you!

Security Pet Zombies, mobsters, anarchists, burglars . . . there is a lot out there that can get you. Even if these threats don't directly harm Sims, the fear of them does. A thick blanket of paranoia has spread over the region. Sleep does not come easy to a fearful mind, and the idea of these bad guys out to get them is enough to keep most Sims awake at night.

Sims may not sleep in a bed or on a couch with an Energy rating higher than 3.

Once a family pet is inducted to the Pet Corps, Sims begin to rid themselves of paranoia and get in the habit of sleeping soundly at night. The Service Pet restriction is lifted. If you do not have Pets EP, then this restriction becomes part of the Military restriction, and is lifted when that one is.

#sims 2 #ts2 #the sims 2 #sims2 #sims 2 apocalypse challenge #apocalypse challenge rules

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cybrstone · 2 days ago

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two slow dancers (s.mg)

⊹ ࣪mingi x f!reader

⊹ college au

⊹ genre: angst? fluff? unresolved feelings and pettiness is very present

⊹ warnings: cursing, parties, drinking, everyone is kind of stupid

⊹ a/n: can anyone tell i'm not in college and have never been to a party... also yes the title is a mitski reference but the fic itself is nowhere near as devastating as the song :) likes are appreciated

the walk back to your apartment feels longer today. maybe because it’s starting to get colder, or maybe it’s because you feel like you’re going in circles with the career path you chose. dropping out of college because of the toll the workload was taking on you might’ve been the worst decision of your life, if you didn’t apply for an office job directly after.

well… whatever pays the rent, right? at least you’re splitting the cost with wooyoung, the strange boy you grew close with junior year of high school. at least he cooks, so you don’t have to worry about food costs until he goes out partying and is begging for takeout when he gets back at three in the morning.

when you make your way up to the second floor of the apartment complex, unlocking your door, you don’t expect to see san - also a friend from high school - lounging on yours and wooyoung’s couch. you look around before turning around to lock the door. “hi san,” you greet, taking your shoes off. “where’s woo?”

san gives a quick hi and a smile before responding. “he’s showering,” he says, looking back at his phone. “told me he’d be out quick, but it’s been 30 minutes. i think he drowned.” you chuckle, trailing to your room and shutting the door. you fall onto your bed, taking in the comfort it gives you for the first time in what feels like weeks.

it was last night. your peace and quiet is short lived, a loud knock on the door and you see the knob twist open. “you’re back!” wooyoung exclaims, going to lay next to you and wrap his arms around you.

you grumble in protest, but it takes more than that for him to uncurl himself from you. “so i saw on our calendar that you have this weekend off,” he starts, and you know this is not just a normal conversation, as much as you would love it to be. “yunho’s hosting a party tomorrow. san and i want you to come with.”

“does san know he’s going?” you ask sarcastically, and he smacks your arm lightly. “yes, he knows. he’s the one who asked me to invite you.” you hum, knowing that parties are not necessarily san’s type of fun either. “i’m not going, woo. i don’t know why you keep asking me to go with you when you’re gonna get shitfaced anyway and leave me alone.”

wooyoung groans, sitting up to look at you. “jesus, yn, what happened to you?” he asks with fake terror, and you can’t resist rolling your eyes. “you used to be so fun! do you not remember high school? you used to be crazy about parties, and now look at you. lonely and miserable.”

“i am not miserable-“ “you complain about your job every day you come back. you’re miserable.”

you look away, and you know wooyoung has won this debate. “even if i am, i’m not lonely. i have you and occasionally san and yeosang!” wooyoung deadpans, and he moves to sit criss-cross in front of you. “you know that’s not how i meant it,” he responds. “i’m just saying. you need to get out again. i know you’re not happy with yourself, and you forget that i know that.”

you sigh, laying on your back to look at the ceiling. “even if i did go with you guys, i’d probably get weird looks. that party is going to be full of people who go to the college i dropped out of,” you say, and you feel the bed shift. “i’m not gonna spoil the mood. plus, yunho probably doesn’t even remember me! i am not going to fight to get into a house party.”

“you’re not gonna have to argue your way in, yn,” you hear, and you turn your head to see san leaning against the doorway to your bedroom. “did it leave your head that me and wooyoung are friends with him? he won’t give a fuck who we bring.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “wooyoung’s right,” he continues, his voice getting closer. “just come with us. you’ll have fun, i promise. if you don’t, i’ll get you whatever dinner you want for a week straight.”

it takes you a while before you respond. maybe that’s the problem; you lost your personality with such a draining schedule. maybe letting loose once in a while is what you need. no, you just need to relax instead of going to parties. what are you thinking? why are you letting them talk you into this? what time should you be ready? what are you gonna wear?

you drop your hands to see the pair staring at you. “only if one of you gets me a drink before we leave,” you mutter, and you hear a whispered celebration between the two. “be ready by 8 tomorrow, okay? i’ll be back later. we’re going out.” you nod, waving bye to them and hearing the front door open and shut.

this is not your ideal way to relieve stress, but drinking will always help a little.

———

the morning and afternoon pass quicker than you would like it to. you weren’t very productive today, waking up and drinking coffee while processing what you had agreed to the night before. it was too late to go back on it now. wooyoung was too excited and yeosang had texted, surprised to hear that you’re “coming out of your dungeon.”

you cleaned around the house a little, taking a shot here and there to keep your nerves settled. now, it’s 5 pm, and you have exactly 3 hours to prepare yourself for something you would’ve gone to in a heartbeat 6 years ago.

wooyoung had gone out with san and a few other friends to help yunho with setting up, leaving you alone in the apartment. it doesn’t take you too long to get ready, fixing your hair and making yourself presentable within an hour and a half. what takes the longest time is figuring out what to wear.

you would’ve been late had wooyoung not come back early, perhaps sensing your conflict and choosing something in the back of your closet you had forgotten you owned. a tiny black dress that you could barely fit into when you were 18. you weren’t sure how it would look now.

as you walk out of the bathroom, wooyoung looks up from scrolling on his phone to stare. “what?” you say, uncomfortably shifting under his gaze. “does it look bad?” “looks bad my ass,” he says, dropping his phone. “jesus yn, i knew you grew up after high school, but not like this!”

“like what?”

“do you really need me to tell you? are you that oblivious?”

oh. that’s what he meant. “you’re gross.” “and you are wearing that out. hurry up and get your shit together, san’s here.”

wooyoung leaves no room to argue, practically dragging you out of the door and down the complex stairs to san’s car. you open the backseat door to see seonghwa and yeosang. they give you a greeting as you slide into the backseat, wooyoung taking his respective spot in the passenger’s seat.

“here,” san says to you, picking up a bottle from the cup holder and handing it to you. “you’ll probably need it, and i promised.” you take it while thanking him, sipping occasionally as you chat with the boys.

the drive isn’t terrible until seonghwa asks you a question. “yn, they told you that yunho is hosting, right?” you see wooyoung tense up at the question, but you choose not to comment on it. “yeah, why? that’s where hongjoong and jongho stay, right?”

“and mingi.”

oh. he had slipped your mind. mingi, yunho’s best friend. your best friend. at least, he had been, just before graduation. just before he got his first girlfriend, before he let her manipulate him into blocking you and cutting contact. into blocking everyone, keeping his attention solely on her. “yn,” yeosang shakes your shoulder, “you good?”

you blink, looking around. “yeah.” you turn your attention back to seonghwa, your voice now having a new tone to it. “i forgot about him,” you say, a fake smile on your face as you down the rest of the alcohol san got you. “wooyoung failed to remind me of that.”

“to be fair!” wooyoung blurts out, turning towards the backseat, “this is the first time you’ve agreed to come with us in forever! i wasn’t gonna remind you of that asshole when you finally agreed to go-“ “it would’ve been nice to tell her, woo. at least to prepare her,” seonghwa scolds gently.

“i’ll be fine,” you say, fixing the strap on your dress. “just more of a reason to drink. forget he even exists again, y’know? make him realize the feeling is mutual.”

———

the rest of the drive is slightly tense as you mentally ready yourself to see mingi’s stupid face again. to see that sweet, gorgeous smile on his face when he talks to his friends, to hear his laugh that’s louder than any music playing to you. to see what girl he has his arm around tonight.

the moment your group gets through the doors of the house, you take wooyoung and beeline to the drinks. you pour yourself a drink bigger than you usually would for your first of the night, chugging it. “you fucking owe me,” you yell to wooyoung over the music, who chugs his own drink.

“i’m sorry!” he says, looking out into the crowd. “i didn’t think you would care! you shouldn’t give a fuck about him, anyway. just have fun.”

and have fun you do.

you dance, you drink, you say hi to hongjoong and jongho and take yunho out to dance with you. strangely, you don't see mingi once. or maybe you're just too drunk to notice him. you spent all that time worrying about running into him, but maybe he's not even here!

"yn, come do shots with us!"

that gets your attention. you're already drunk, what's a few more? you stumble your way to the group, sliding past sweaty bodies. you see yunho and wooyoung, the latter offering you a glass. you see san in the corner of your eye watching, his eyebrows etched in concern. "yn," he says as you down the drink, "how much have you had to drink?"

you hum, thinking. "maybe, like.. four? i haven't been keeping count."

"six," the voice behind you says, and it causes your muscles to tense up. it's deep, smooth. it's mingi.

san shifts his gaze to him, his expression changing. "what?"

"she's had six." mingi repeats, and you don't dare turn around. you hear rustling behind you, probably his jacket, then see his arm hand a water bottle to san. "don't let her have more. that's her limit."

"thanks," san mutters, taking the water from him. "i know." he hands you the bottle after opening it, making sure you actually drink it. he glances behind you again, a scowl on his face. "you can go now."

"uh- yeah," mingi says, and you remember his habits well enough to know he's messing with whatever necklace he has on right now because of the awkward air. "i better go."

you come back to your senses as he walks away, gears shifting in your mind. he doesn't get to do that. you turn, following his footsteps despite san's protests. he doesn't get to act like he did nothing wrong. you stomp towards him as he goes to lean against a wall, grabbing his forearm and pulling him into an open room. "what-" he says, stopping himself when he notices the look on your face.

"you had no right to do that," you start, shutting the door and locking it. "you had no right to waltz over there and act like you still fucking know me because you don't!"

"yn, please-" "you haven't known me for the past four years of our lives because you threw me out for some girl you met a month before! you knew me your whole life! you don't get to act like we're still friends when you know damn well-" you stop yourself, the room starting to spin. you stumble, and mingi reaches out to keep you steady.

"can you sit down-" "don't touch me."

"okay, i'm sorry. sit down. you're gonna make yourself sick."

you roll your eyes, sitting on the rolling chair at the desk in whoever's room you're in. mingi sits opposite of you, elbows on his knees as he looks at you. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. stop acting like you care." "i'm not acting, though."

"seriously?" you ask, in disbelief. "mingi, be real with yourself. i'm not going to be one of the girls that you hook up with after this. save yourself the trouble."

he laughs at this, making you furrow your eyebrows. "this is the first conversation we've had in years, and you think i'm trying to fuck you?"

"are you not?"

"god- no, yn, i'm not," he says, running a hand through his hair. "i'm sorry. i wasn't expecting to see you tonight because i haven't for however long it's been. and the drink thing- you can't expect me to not say something. if you have another, you're gonna vomit all over yourself just like you did junior year."

you cringe at the memory, but your heart clenches in your chest. you can tell from the look in his eyes that he's completely serious, but you're drunk, and you're petty.

"so how are you and what's her face?"

"who are you-" he cuts himself off, realization in her face. "gyuri? we broke up, like, last year," he says, his eyebrows furrowing. "i wouldn't even be here at this party alone if i was with her."

he has a good point. she was that crazy to the point he couldn't go out alone. she's the sole reason you even stopped talking to him. you decide right then and there that all of your problems are her fault.

"you still didn't talk to me after," you mumble, although you're just picking a fight for no reason now.

"do you not think i tried?" he says, leaning forward, something about his voice compelling you to look at him.

"the moment i broke things off, i texted you. it didn't go through. i asked about you, trust me, but in case you didn't notice your friends aren't too crazy about me either. san wouldn't tell me anything, and you know wooyoung won't even look my way," he explains, and you feel yourself sobering up with the information.

"i tried, yn, i did. i miss you more than anything. i know i fucked up. are you willing to talk to me again? be friends?"

you look away, biting your lip in thought. are you willing to do this again? to be friends with mingi again, to dedicate hours of your time to him, to ignore the way your heart clenches every time he mentions another girl he likes?

the universe doesn't want to give you time to think about it, someone banging on the locked door. "yn?" wooyoung calls out, your name slurring on his lips. "you okay? you're not dead, are you?"

you glance at mingi before yelling back to him. "i'm fine, woo!" you say to him through the door. "okay! just making sure! use protection!"

you mentally facepalm at his comment, hearing mingi chuckle. "he has no idea it's me with you, right?"

"not a clue."

going back to your thoughts, you decide to sleep on his question. "i'll text you, okay?" you say slowly to him, watching the light in his eyes return. he nods, a smile on his face. "okay."

you get up to exit the room, tugging your dress down, unlocking the door. "yn," mingi calls, and you look over your shoulder to look at him. "the dress looks good on you. it always has."

your face heats at his words, and you turn away to smile. "thank you, mingi," you say softly, turning the knob. "i'll see you later."

"see you around, pretty. don't leave me hanging too long."

#ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #san x reader #ateez angst

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