#but to them sHe NeEdS tO bE hEr OwN cHaRaCtEr AwAy FrOm DiCk

[coffeebooh]

idk why i have such a strong distaste for ch*lant when there’s actually nothing wrong w them as a ship (except that they look like twins). ig it’s just that both of them have other options that i prefer. they’re just so vanilla bland to me idk 😭

[theconstantsidekick]

klaus got sober, finally got sober but was made a germaphobe. he was ridiculed for finally having his shit together but having weird coping mechanisms for it. then he was made to spiral again and then killed off. he got his life on track, was an exceptional uncle/second parent to his niece and then they made him sell his body for drugs and inevitably killed him off as a junkie.

luther, who was the leader, who was smart enough to be an astronaut could amount to nothing without his powers except from being a stripper. he had absolutely nothing and no one, even sloan was ripped away from him and then he, too was killed off. lonely and unaccomplished.

ben was brought back, finally alive, granted not the same ben but he wore the same face and he had a family who could annoy him into shape but he stayed a dick, became a apocalyptic monster and credited for the destruction of all the branching timelines, and died as a monster that he was so afraid of becoming.

alison got her happy life but couldn’t sustain it. her husband left her but at least she got to have claire and for that i can give credit but she remained codependent on klaus to be her passion project that made her feel better. she never learnt why that was not healthy and then died without her daughter.

diego had this beautiful life, a family that called him their own, three kids and wife who called him darling, and love and then he was made to fuck it all up because of some obsession with the CIA, in service of a romance between his wife and brother because the creator thought an old man needed some romance. he wasn’t even shown saying goodbye to his kids.

lila left behind her assassin ways, she stopped being batshit crazy and ultra suspicious to settle down with a man she genuinely and wholeheartedly loved and trusted, only to throw it all away because his younger (and yet much older) brother found her a timeline with strawberries. she was made to give up her kids, her family, her happy fucking life when all she ever wanted was to not be alone.

viktor got dealt the worst hand, always. he was abused vehemently by his father and ignored and relegated due to no fault of his own. he was made to feel ugly and broken and small but then he realised that his family loved him even if his father didn’t. he got a chance at being normal and he took it, only for it to be stripped away from him so that he could sacrifice his life for a world that was never kind to him. he was made to reconcile with his abusive father and then promptly erased out of existence.

five. my dearest boy, young man, old fool, five. he survived an apocalypse after another. fought tooth and nail to keep his family alive and well and dedicated his entire life to make sure of it. only for all his efforts to be made futile and his snark to be mellowed. he made it his life mission to keep the world safe and his family safe only for all that to be stripped away from his character and made into a lovesick fool who abandoned them during the final battle to mope about his brother’s wife not liking him back.

there were so many character assassinations this season, GoT writers would be proud of dear old steve.

[bethanydelleman]

One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.

The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.

We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!

Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)

Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:

I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.

Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.

Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:

"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”

It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)

Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:

"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"

The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:

A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.

And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.

Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:

“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."

Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.

Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:

"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”

Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...

Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.

[gyuswhore]

Never Shall We Die (1)

«« Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line. »» 

PAIRING: kwon soonyoung x reader

PLAYLIST: right here!

pirate lingo glossary (pls refer!)

SYNOPSIS: Deadliest pirate on the high seas or a damn fool? The stupid King and his men have snatched Hoshi's precious pirate ship with their too clean, too soft hands; grounds to question his own vices. Except, when he and his crew land in the quarters of a navy ship, revenge on their roster, they stumble across a princess in its gallows. Hoshi wonders if he's just struck gold, or if you'd become the final tread to his downfall.

GENRES: pirate!au, enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut [minor dni], some pirates of the carribean vibes but ? idk

WORD COUNT [full fic]: 48.1k

Part 1: 17.07k | Part 2: 15.2k | Part 3 [final]: 15.8k

@highvern's out of context comment box: new fear unlocked: hoshi with explosives, victorian ankle moment, HATE HIM (need him carnally), hoshi covered in soapy water would distract me enough, strip for me pirate mingyu [hes litrally taking off his jacket], your honor hes a bitch, freaks!, mingyu crushes hoshi's head like a grape, WONWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, massive dick, the way i literally gasped like an old scandalized woman

masterlist

WARNINGS: slowburn, plot heavy, happy ending bc no angsty endings in this household, being taken hostage, knives, bombs, and guns, mentions of blood, mentions of SA (does not happen and it is not explicitly mentioned), alcohol, mentions of death (patricide), hoshi is ✨selectively moral✨but kind of moral nonetheless, side character death, [pls lmk if im missing something its alot] smut tagin following parts

[AN]: thank you so much to @highvern for betaing for me and helping out with the plot so much, this fic would not exist if it weren't for her!!!! and thank you reader!!! for clicking on this and reading it, this one's been about 7 months in the works and I would love to hear what your thoughts are when you're done, plsplspls leave a rb or a reply with your brainrot lol <3 happy reading

HOSHI’S BOOT IS STUCK in the ground. 

No, that’s a branch. 

Or is it a plank? 

He doesn’t try to find out as he yanks his foot out of whatever stopped him from moving. A tree root, he finds as he kicks the remnants of jungle rubbish from the surface of the shrouded root. He kicks it to satisfy himself. 

His crew resides on the beach; where he can see them attempt to build a fire before sundown, the mound of discombobulated twigs making up most of the sad pile of wood. Hoshi trudges up to it and drops another handful of puny branches into the mix. 

Exhaling loudly as Mingyu calls for him, he falls to his bottom and sits cross legged on the sand. Mingyu trudges up next to him to inspect his pile, sighing when he realised this was all he had to work with. He picks up two hefty looking stones and begins to strike them together, putting his faith in the primitive fire. 

Hoshi stares into the horizon, watching the died down waves drift onto the shore, moving closer by the minute. 

Hoshi thinks, which he can’t say is something that he does very often. Perhaps that’s why he was sat on this nature-overrun island as a shipless captain of his shipless crew. He chews on his tongue as he thinks of his Tigress, his beloved hunk of wood and metal; the beloved hunk of wood and metal that he could not see on the shoreline, because she was taken by the royal navy. 

He wonders if Tigress would ever forgive him for letting that happen to her, for letting those clean, soft handed soldiers rip her away from his grasp. 

Hoshi needs to start thinking more often.

Mingyu is frantic over the small flame that erupts in the middle of his leaves, dropping his rocks to blow into the fire, encouraging it to grow. 

“Captain, it’s done! We can rustle up those fish we caught, have supper sorted.” 

“Hm.”

The bustle of the entire crew lasts until night has fallen and they’ve gotten food in their stomachs. Hoshi hasn’t moved from his spot for hours, something the others noticed very quickly, but decided not to mention for fear of waking something dangerous. They understood he was suffering from a broken heart. 

It isn’t until the first of the crew had begun to doze off that Hoshi speaks. Chan is propped up against a tree while Seungkwan laughs at the dangerously low coconut that hangs above his head. Mingyu readjusts his trousers after a full meal. Minghao stretches onto the sand, feet facing the water. 

His voice isn’t loud, nor is it commanding, nor does it have his usual edge of jest—in fact, it sounds nothing like Hoshi at all. 

Or does it?

“Who wants to steal a ship?”

YOU'RE AWOKEN BY THE sound of yelling. Which is never a good sign in any case, but especially not when it’s pitch black outside and you’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.

The grogginess is quick to fade as you try to understand what’s going on outside your quarters. Your room isn’t a mess, all the trinkets and royal seals remaining in their places on the walls and shelves. Nor is the ship lurching or moving in odd angles to indicate an unexpected spat from the skies. A quick peek outside the window shows you clear, calm water amidst the mostly dark expanse of ocean. 

There is only one other answer in your head that would cause this much commotion—especially on a boat where the admiral resides (and a princess). 

Slipping out of the covers, your feet hit the cool hardwood floors of your quarters, a small shiver going through your spine from the cold, with nothing to cover you but your thin nightgown. You’re in the middle of tying your robe to see what the ruckus was about outside when a particularly loud thud hits outside of your door. You immediately freeze. 

Staring at the doorknob, you attempt to move backwards in the space, heart beating faster as you watch the knob move slightly. The back of your knees hit the bedside table with a thud, the sound has you gasp out loud. Whoever it was outside your door jiggles the knob harder, the force exerted having you scan the room for something you could use as a weapon. 

Spotting the letter opener on your desk, you lurch across the room to grab it, holding it in front of you as you back away from the door. The knob continues to bang against the wood as you refuse to take eyes off of it. There’s sounds of men outside, loud and rambunctious, momentarily halting the grievances. 

Until the knob moves again, slower this time, a light click that could be heard as it unlocks itself, opening into the low light of your quarters. 

You recognise the frazzled looking soldier at your door. 

“Lieutenant,” you voice in recognition. “What’s going on?”

He eyes the letter opener that you hold defiantly in front of you from across the room, and it has you retracting your force slightly. 

“Pirates, your Highness,” he breathes out. “We must get you to lower deck—”

��Where is the Admiral? The Captain?” you ask as you take a couple steps forward. 

“They’re handling the situation, your High–” 

An arm has come up behind the soldier that pulls him into a headlock, a swift pull to have him dragged away from your vision. You would’ve gasped if your voice hadn’t been caught in your throat, refusing to make itself known as fear brews in the pit of your stomach. Your hold on your makeshift weapon is tighter than ever before, yet you doubt how it’s going to help you as the culprit finally steps over something to appear in your doorframe. 

His clothes are in a disarray; slashed, torn and covered in grime. There’s a deadly looking machete in one hand, the blood that coats it has you eyeing the trail that drips onto his hand and on the floor. His forearms are perched up on the doorframe as he inspects you, tongue to cheek as he stares. 

Threatened as you feel, there was less hunger in his gaze as you had expected, more like he was trying to figure out who you were. He eyes your tiny letter opener you hold like a knife and lets out a little exhale you think might be a laugh. It has you gripping the handle impossibly tighter. The man moves his face into the hallway, to where you know the staircase to the main deck is. 

“Hoshi!” he yells loudly. “How’s this for bait?” 

Your back is pressed inexplicably against the wall, wanting to sink into the wooden boards as you attempt to gain your bearings amongst the nauseous bouts of mortification that surge through you. Your only exit is blocked.

No. You have one more option. 

The sound of more men bounding down the hall has you praying there were more soldiers here, but the calm regard the man has for the approaching people has your heart sink to the depths of this very ocean itself. 

More faces peer into the room, men with the same haphazard, grimey clothing complete with  equally sinister weapons in their grasps. One of the men breaks out into the biggest grin as he lays his eyes on you. You nearly throw up. 

For the first time in your life, you wish you’d listened to your father. 

“Jun, you savvy motherfucker,” the grinning man explodes, slapping the man who found you on the back. 

Another voice speaks from behind him, “Ships cleared, captain.” 

“Perfect. Bring a spring upon ‘er. Get as far away from those cleans as you can, let them fend for themselves in a tiny boat for once.” 

Captain. The grinning, stupid looking one is their captain. 

He regards the rest of his crew as he finally steps through the threshold, waving them away as he enters your quarters.

It was taking everything out of you to not buckle your knees as you stood, every step he takes is turning your strength into dust. He keeps his eyes on you, eyes on your sorry excuse of a weapon. He registers the mix of fear and determination in your eyes. 

He stops a few feet away from you, looking directly at you past the makeshift knife you hold. 

He says nothing as he drops the knife in his own hand to the ground with a loud clang. He removes a pistol, a couple more knives, a grenade and a sword. Weapons drop to the floor one after the other, emerging from all over his body and clothes. All in a pile on the wooden floors. He puts his hands in the air.

“No weapons on me. I merely wish to talk.” 

The look on his face is not ordinary, some strange combination of mock innocence and jest. You don’t answer him.

He continues, “You can keep your… scalpel… if you so wish.” 

“What did you do to the soldiers?” you finally rasp out.

“They’re not dead, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yet?” you ask with a slight tremble to your voice. 

“They’ve been shoved into a boat with a map and a compass to fend for themselves. I’m not entirely ruthless,” he adds with raised brows and a hint of a smile. “Admiral, were they calling him? You must be his wife.”

“W-what?”

“Oh, guess not. Daughter? Captain’s wife, Captain’s daughter?”

Your previously stagnant brain is now running a derby with all the thoughts galloping across your mind. He doesn’t know who you are. Yet, anyway.

He’s scanning the room now, nodding at the trinkets and trophies scattered across the place. “Can’t imagine giving a lieutenant’s anybody quarters like this.” He circles back on you, eyes sharp. “Who are you, darling?”

You don’t think you have anything that should give you away, but the way he starts pacing the room has your anxiety going through the wooden roof.

He has his back turned to you. You’re not sure if he’s confident or careless considering you could drive your weapon into his back and make a run for it. But then what? By the looks of it there’s an entire crew of pirates pacing the deck. Perhaps the soldiers haven’t gotten that far; they know you’re still on board, they know it’s their heads on a pike if they leave you here. 

He’s reached your desk during your thinking, inspecting your stationary, picking at the bejewelled quills and paper weights as he mutters nonsense to himself. 

“Oh!” he announces, a little too enthusiastic. “What’s this?” 

He brandishes the loose leaf of paper, and you recognise the print on the back immediately. It was a letter from your father, the King.

“How on Earth did you read this, the writing is illegible.” He flips the paper over, double taking when he sees the royal seal on the back. He looks into the letter closer now. 

You wait with baited breath. 

“The kingdom needs their princess…your father…ah.” 

Should you plunge the knife into him anyway? You almost do it, but stop when he begins to turn around to face you again. His eyebrows are raised, a slight hint of exasperation on his face when he begins to laugh a loud, loud cackle. 

It’s mortifying, especially when you don’t understand what on earth was so funny to elicit a reaction like that. The man is downright hysterical. He wipes a lone tear from the corner of his eye as he drops the letter back onto the desk.

“W-what’s so funny?” you try to sound brave.

“It seems, miss princess, that we’ve gotten more than we bargained for,” he says, looking straight at you as he sobers up. “You’re the King’s daughter, now, are you? What are the odds the first ship I hop onto with a royal seal slapped on it, held the crown jewel of the kingdom in its gallows.” 

And then he starts walking, towards you, for that matter. Imperative because you know for sure that this is how it all ends. 

You know you still have your one last option, the option that is now pressed against your back as you shimmy to it with miniscule movements. The window is cool on your hand that rests on the glass, you know the lamp will be enough to break it, enough for you to push through and fall into the abyss of the dark, dark sea. He knows who you are now, and you’d rather drown than die at the hands of a pirate—or go through whatever it was that’s curling the minds of all the men on this ship. 

He takes another step forward, hands on his hips. “He’s not going to like this, is he? His dear daughter in the hands of the Kingdom’s favourite degenerate captain.” 

What?

He then adds in a whisper to himself mostly, “Or least favourite with all the wanted posters off the churches and brothels.” 

Hoshi. Hoshi. Hoshi. 

The man who had found you had called him Hoshi. Hoshi the pirate. Hoshi the pirate that’s been giving the Kingdom and its court absolute hell for as long as you can remember. 

The man that you are now trapped alone with on a ship is the most feared pirate the Kingdom has ever seen. 

You don’t doubt your face has gone grey, feeling your breathing turn near erratic. “Oh God.”

He smiles wryly as the life is sucked out of your very soul. 

This was bad. Very bad.

“Now, fear not, you will soon be returned to daddy dearest,” he places a mildly dramatic hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honour.”

He paces back to pluck the letter off the table, pocketing it. “All you need to do is relax and tell me a few things so we can part ways as soon—”

“No.” The word blurts out of your mouth before you can stop it, horrified at the thought of giving information to any pirate, let alone this one. 

“No?” Hoshi looks genuinely shocked, his eyes wide, eyebrows raised. He laughs a little incredulously, “Oh, I see, can’t tell all the delicate details to a scary ol’ pirate.”

He smiles a little bit, “Worry not, miss princess, we shall only need a few minor details. Just enough to have your father sprinting to get you out of here. We all win.”

He stares at you almost expectantly, and you wonder if you look as confused as you feel. 

“Well, I’ll be bidding you goodnight now, I’m sure we’ve interrupted your beauty sleep enough. Rest assured we won’t be bothering you for the rest of the morning.”

Hoshi begins to make his way to the door, picking up his pile of weapons off the floor before wrenching the door open. He’s calm as ever, but your mind is in a disarray.

A ransom, but whatever for? Gold could’ve been retrieved by raiding any ship, and it sounded like he’d chosen to hop on a ship belonging to the navy. Come to think of it, as much of a nuisance this man has proved himself, you don’t remember a case where he’s directly meddled with the Kingdom. All of this can’t just be for gold. 

Steeling yourself, you bet your odds against your voice and asked him, “What do you want from my father?” 

You watch as he halts in his tracks, halfway through the door as he finally looks over his shoulder. The look on his face has you wanting to break open the window immediately and let the water flood in, once and for all as you take these bastards down with you. 

“Your father has something of mine. And I intend to take it back,” he says, before finally slamming the door shut. You hear a shuffle and a thud, and you do not doubt that he’s locked you in. 

Your knees give out almost immediately, dropping to the ground as you breathe in quick, shallow breaths. Trying to look past the dizziness, you try not to think about the last thing he’d said before he left, moreso the look on his face as he did. 

The first rays of morning sun are beginning to shine through the windows, casting the beginnings of a glow in your quarters. You think of the supposed assurance he had given you, that they wouldn’t hurt you, that they intended to return you. 

The thought leads to a faraway memory, yet one that’s tucked itself into a front corner of your mind, you can almost hear your father's voice as he says it; never trust a pirate.

You remain on the floor, and you remain wide awake. 

THE SUN IS HIGH in the sky by the time you put your limbs to work. 

The first hours after the pirate locked you in your quarters were spent trying to reign yourself to earth. You can’t be entirely sure your soul has come back to your body, but whatever little of it that has landed is whispering some very dangerous things. 

The lamp remains, the ornate jewels glinting almost enticingly in the afternoon light. The flame inside it has long died, but you itch to give it another purpose. You don’t note the trembling of your hand as you reach for it, pushing yourself to your feet as you get a feel for the heavy hunk of glass and metal in your hands. 

If there was a level of regard before, it disappears when you set eyes on the bright window and the creases of crystal blue water. With all your strength, you don’t think twice when the lamp makes hard contact, a loud thud erupting as a result, but no damage when you pull away. 

You go again, harder this time, and only vaguely register the glass of the lamp that shatters into your hands. Gripping the metal bit tighter, you swing for the third time, pulling back for the strongest blow yet. 

A hand wraps around your elbow and you’re yanked backwards, landing on the floor. There’s a kick at your hand that’s flown into the air, the one that holds the bludgeoned lamp. It goes flying across the room as you retract your hand into yourself. 

You don’t register a thing as you’re suddenly being pulled back up to your feet. Face to face with the pirate captain, your soul finally clicking back into place. 

“Didn’t think I scared you this bad.” He’s made a joke, but all you can see is his face that’s a mask of rage.

The initial instinct is to move away, pulling your elbow out of his grasp in an attempt to flee. You fail as he tightens his grip to a painful degree, hauling you towards the ajar door of the quarters. 

It’s only then that you realise that there’s more people in the room.You note another big, burly man next to the window you just assaulted, inspecting it with another shorter man. You don’t get to note more as you’re pulled into the narrow hallway, begging the saints he doesn’t take the turn towards the lower decks. Instead you find he leads you upstairs to where the main deck is. 

Walk the plank? Did navy ships have planks to walk on? Not that you’d mind too much, you were trying to drown yourself and this ship in any case. But then there’s a settle of dread in the pit of your stomach, realising death may be the most merciful thing this man could give you. 

The pirate captain pushes you against a mast, one of his other minions rushing in with coils of rope on his shoulder. The sun beats down on the deck, not a gust of reprieve from the wind. 

“Keep the ropes tight, she’s got less wit than I’d thought,” the pirate captain says with a grunt, huffing as he lets go of you. He takes a few steps away, hands at his hips, the image of vexation. 

The person who ties the cords around your hands whispers slowly, “Stop moving.”

But you can’t, not when the panic is near the lip, not when all the possibilities are flashing gore filled images into your vision. It's scary to blink. 

“Why won’t you let me die?” you ask to the back that’s turned.

He turns around, not even bothering hiding the exasperation that paints his face, mouth opening furiously before closing again. “Why won’t—Because you were trying to take us all with you!”

“Kill me!” you all but scream. “They won’t know till you’ve gotten what you want, I’d rather be dead than let you try whatever’s brewing in all your sick heads!” 

He’s silent for a moment, noting your defiant gaze, your pull against the ropes, the heaving of your chest. Taking a few steps forward, Hoshi seems to be attempting to bring the boil in his blood to a low simmer, “Listen, princess. We’re pirates alright, but me and my crew, we keep to ourselves. If your daddy the king hadn’t decided to meddle and steal my fucking ship, you would’ve been home in your pretty palace, asleep in your bed of gold by now.” 

The pirate captain’s face is closer than you’d ever be comfortable with, seething in a way that has you pressing further into the mast. “We may be degenerates but we keep our own morals, as twisted as your people heed them to be.” 

When he finally pulls away, you take a breath and thank the air that simply exists, eyes downcast as you attempt to look braver than you feel. 

“I’m not pushing you overboard. I’ve duped your people once, they’ll be more prepared next time. We need you alive while you’re in our hands.” 

“How are you going to summon a ransom? You sent away your only messengers,” you ask, a sad attempt at a mock, but also because you wanted to know what his plan was. 

“Your useless Admiral’s taken up that job.”

“By lifeboat? You’ve left them all for dead, how do you expect this genius plan to work?” 

“They could’ve swam to shore if it came to it, we were close enough.”

“How are you so sure?” you spit.

“Do I need to gag you too?” he gives you one last irritated look before stalking off towards the lower deck. You’re left alone in the cooling afternoon heat, the sound of the sea keeping your ears company along with your own slowing breaths. 

Everything he said has a good enough chance to be a complete and utter lie. Never trust a pirate. No weapon to cut yourself out of your impossibly tight binds, nothing to protect you or give you reassurance besides a pirate’s word—the worst pirate’s word. 

Your battered thinking leads you straight through the setting of the sun, the orange glow of the sky shrouding the ship in the dreamiest backdrop while you live what you can only sum as a nightmare. Perhaps not, for you doubt your mind could ever conjure up a terror like this. 

This was life, the most terrifying nightmare of all. 

Having managed to wiggle your tied hands downwards, you had seated yourself with your head against the wood of the mast, staring into the translucent skies. So much freedom that taunts you in its illusion of proximity, yet so far still. 

There’s murmurs below deck, the only semblance of life you’ve heard in the past few hours after the stupid pirate captain stormed off. It seems to be on the stairs, a heated argument. 

“Obviously this wasn’t part of the plan, the chances were supposed to be zero to absolutely none. We landed with that scumbag’s successor, that’s just our piss luck and nothing more.” 

“You wanted a woman for bait, this should work the same.”

“Hao, I wanted a woman for bait to trigger a lukewarm reaction, this princess could either doom us all or make our job a fat punch easier, and I’m not betting on the latter.”

There’s a pause. 

“If only she’d cut it with the random hysterics and creepy-staring-at-the-sky we could actually get something useful out of her.” 

“Pray that window holds up or any chance of a miracle is gone to the wind.”

It’s like you’ve woken up with the way the stupid idea begins to form in your head. You think of your father, the kind of man he is, the kind of ruler he is. All the ‘if’s are guiding you to a conclusion. One that gives you a fighting chance, one that may go beyond this massive navy ship and clear into the rest of your life—if you make it that far anyway. 

Your father and his men would come, give this unhinged pirate what he desires so dearly, you know that for sure. But you also know it wouldn’t be for you, but for the crown that’s destined to fall upon your cursed head. 

If it’s his ship that he wants…

The next time you see one of the pirate captain’s goons on the deck, you ask for an audience. 

“DID YOUR STUPID FATHER drop you on your head as a baby?” 

Hoshi stands before you under the light of the midnight moon, an incredulous expression on his face. You try to keep the scowl off your own but it proves difficult when his voice pierces your skull. 

You ignore him from your position on the floor, “I know my father, and I know he loathes you enough to finally want you and your incompetent crew gone for good.”

He scratches his chin, “Can’t be that incompetent if he hates us so much.”

“I can help you.”

“You were ready to die than to be on the same ship as us a few hours ago. What’s changed?”

“Perspective,” you shrug in an attempt to remain nonchalant. 

“Are you gonna go back to wailing in the morning then?” 

God, this was going to be the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. 

“You want your ship back and you were hoping for someone less important to exchange it for. But you’re stuck with me and you know it’s not going to end well for you. You need my help.” 

“Why so merciful, miss princess? Are you not on your father’s side?” 

You gulp as discreetly as possible.

“I want something in exchange.”

He raises his eyebrows, staring at you to continue. 

“I want you to kill my father.”

If his eyebrows were raised before, they’ve broken for the skies now. He leans his head back, eyes closing for a moment before reopening, reigning back to you before asking very gracefully, “What?” 

“I want you to kill my father.”

“No, I got that bit,” he snaps. “Your father as in, the King?”

“Yes, as you’ve pointed out far more times than anyone ever has.” You can’t help but roll your eyes despite the weight of the situation and the hammering in your chest. 

He stares at you in an expression you can’t quite read, and it unsettles you deeply. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve gravely miscalculated, watching as he moves around the mast you’re tied to. Out of the corner of your eye you see the metal glint of a dagger, and you nearly short circuit. 

Is he about to cut your hands off?

You feel a distinct tug at your wrists, the sound of slicing, and the voice in your head asking why it didn’t hurt. 

Suddenly your hands are free, intact and free as you achingly bring them in front of you, wincing audibly at the pain of moving them after so long. 

“You can jump into the water if you’d like, I won’t stop you.” He walks back over, sitting cross legged opposite you, at eye level. 

“What?”

“You’ve clearly gone mad, I’ll find another way to get my ship back.���

“I’m being serious.”

“Of course, and I utterly enjoy having a kingdom’s worth of blood on my hands. Shall I take the entirety of the court down while we’re at it? Carry out a fucking waltz with Jack Ketch?”

“Why are you acting like you’re above murder? Another part of your strange moral code?” 

“No, no, not above it at all. But I like my head and rather not have it guillotined. They might skim over the death of some too-nosy soldier but I doubt they’d leave me be after I put a bullet between the King’s eyes.”

“I’ll protect you.”

He looks at you for a moment, “Quite reassuring.” 

You sit up straighter, licking your lips as you prepare yourself. “My father isn’t a good man.”

The pirate captain snorts, “Oh, I’m well aware.”

You try not to stare too hard at the still unsheathed dagger that he digs into the floorboards, knifing out splinters in disregard. 

“My father doesn’t want me home, he wants the crown home. He wants me to be a carbon copy of himself, he wants to be in control long after he’s gone.” You try not to grind your teeth too hard but it’s difficult when your father’s face burns behind your eyelids. “I want control over the throne, full control.”

“And your conclusion is to eliminate him.”

“I don’t have another choice.”

“Then what? You’ll pardon me and my crew after we get our hands dirty for you?” he asks, eyes wide in mock hope. 

“Yes. You can do whatever it is that you sail about doing and no one will be of bother. I might ask you for sparing favours. For a wage of course. But other than that, you can live as lawlessly as you wish.”

“You’re asking me to become your personal lackey?”

“Having a queen’s favour is no small feat I hope you’re aware. Besides, it's a leap better than the hoops you’ve been jumping through during my father’s reign.” 

You realised his face had been shrouded by the dark between your negotiating and the clouds that had veiled the moon. Every moment that was supposed to strengthen your understanding of the man that sat across from you only brought you more confusion. 

“You want your ship and freedom of land and sea,” you continue when it’s silent for a beat too long. “I only ask for a small favour in return.”

“I’d argue the miniscule nature of what you’re asking from me,” he scoffs.

“Nothing is too outlandish when it’s a life of liberty on the line.” 

There crawls in the silence once again, the same one that seems to grab you by the throat for every moment that ticks past undisturbed. 

“We’ll have to see to that,” he says, huffing as he gets back on his boot clad feet. You follow him with your eyes as he walks towards the creaky stairs that lead to the lower deck, utterly confused. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, bewildered at his strange behaviour. 

Turning around, just as he had a mere day ago in your quarters and you feel yourself suppressing a shudder. “I have a crew to consult.”

So he was considering it. 

“But you’re the captain.”

“And?” 

THE SKY IS A lighter sheen of blue, leaning towards the premature hours of the morning. He’d left you untied, and as you gaze into the duned waters in the minimal light, the urge to jump in and create a ripple that goes beyond just the water is less tempting than you’d thought. The prospect of having a dead father, and a dead king, was enough to snap you out of your hysteria despite it being a plot of your own devising. 

You’ve been alone for a while, little indication that there was other life on this ship at all with the lack of human activity. There wasn’t much that you knew of sailing or ship handling, but leaving the deck unmanned for this long gave you the vague impression that you were on a vessel with poor practising pirates. If they’d thought you’d be equipped to handle any hiccups, they’d either find out the hard way, or whenever it was that you could find the wit to bring it up to the pirate captain and his strangely attached crew. 

Something that sounds distinctly like boots are thudding gradually up to the main deck, the unmistakable blond of the pirate captain himself coming into view. You aren’t quite sure what it is, but the low thuds are sending your heart racing, panic overcoming your senses for a brief moment before you recalibrate. It’s only then that you realise it’s been more than 24 hours since the ship was hijacked. Somehow, you could have believed it was a lifetime. 

He’s disturbingly nonchalant, hand at the sheathed hilt of the dagger at his hip, a casual glance around at the empty abyss of ocean and sky. When he reaches the far end of the deck, right above the prow, he stops. 

“Are you going to push me off the rails?” you ask, half genuine, half trying to fill the silence as you face one another. 

“No.” He said it plainly, the single word reply leaving you even more uncomfortable. 

“Have you thought about what I said…with your crew?” you ask, hand coming up to grab the railing for support. 

“I did.” 

“Do I sense an objection?” you ask, swallowing the lump in your throat

“Not exactly,” he says. “We want to hear your master plan for this heist before we agree to anything.” 

He’s asking for a plan, a plan that you do not have.

You aren’t sure how he figured it out, perhaps it was the slight darting of your eyes as you thought of a response, but he seemed to read you like a book. He snorts loudly, “You don’t have a clue, do you?”

“You’ve done this before, you’d know better.”

“And if I led you astray?”

You look at him, this time right into his dark eyes, “Then you lead me astray.” 

“Your contentment with death is wildly unsettling.” There’s a ghost of a sneer at his lip. 

“I’d rather be lounging in the bottom of the ocean than live with a prospective future with my father.” 

“So I’ve heard.”

There’s a huff that leaves you as you steel your voice. “I’m not trying to set you up if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I doubt you’d have that capability,” he says as he leans his forearms over the railing. You briefly consider pushing him over but think better of it. 

As much as you wanted to be a sneaky link, you simply didn’t have that trait. You blame all the dependency your father’s fostered into you, ensuring that you couldn’t rule without his influence. 

“Are you willing to brew a plan or not? I need to time my dip in the ocean accordingly,” you say, sounding almost disgruntled.

He lets out a big sigh, “Follow me.”

He’s made himself familiar with the ship, you soon realise, as he leads you right downstairs to the lower deck towards the war room. When he opens the door, the room is lit with lamps, casting a golden glow on the reddish interior, warmer than the rest of the ship. 

“Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid,” he tells you as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You only exhale in response as you turn away from the door, towards the large table in the centre. It’s slightly cluttered, studying the scrawled notes as you realise they’re all from the Admiral, his directions and plans of course littered across the table. Turning towards the map on the walls, you lift a finger to trace the lifted ridges of snow capped mountains, trailing towards the dipped shallows of the blue water. 

It was an exact replica of the tactile map in the war room back home, and you’re suddenly hit with a pang of nostalgia. Not that you’d been away from home for too long, but the end result of what you're about to do, regardless of the outcome, would change your life forever. 

You feel yourself breathing in the lingering scent of mildew, a strange comfort in the warm quarters.

There’s a creak at the door, and you quickly retract to find the pirate captain back at the door, walking in with a trail of men behind him. You recognise them by their faces, watching as they all take their places in the edges of the room. They look relaxed. You note the pirate captain taking his place behind the main drawing table. 

“Your throne, miss princess.” He gestures exaggeratedly towards the lone cushioned chair across from him. You’re hyper aware of all the eyes that are trailed on you, and you feel almost embarrassed to take the only seat. 

It only lasts for a moment. You walk up to the chair with what you hope exuded confidence and take your place across from the pirate captain. His men circle the edge of the room, and you count five other men. 

He sighs, “I think introductions are in order.”

“Mingyu, Minghao,” he points to the two men that had inspected your window right after you tried breaking it open. 

“Jun,” he gestures to the one who had found you in your quarters the night it all went wrong. 

“Seungkwan and Chan,” you recognize the latter as the one who’d tied you to the mast at his captain’s command. 

“They’ll be helping kill your dear father.” 

It’s silent for a moment as you attempt to moisten your mouth. You’re reminded you haven’t eaten or drank for hours, not since one of them had come up with a tray of whatever they could find for you from the reserves. 

“I know I may not be the most admissible person to trust, or vice versa—” You hear someone snort but choose to ignore it. “But I’m willing to make myself useful to you if it means you would help me too.”

“Would it not be easier to lock him up instead?” someone asks, and you turn to find Seungkwan asking the question from next to the tactile map. 

“He has too many people indebted to him, too many that are too loyal for their own good. I cannot truly rule for as long as he’s alive and well.”

“And how do you expect his loyal court mongers to let you bid favour to the people who killed their king?” the pirate captain asks with a raised brow. 

“Which is why it needs to look like an accident.” 

“How do you reckon we go about that?”

“What message have you given the Admiral?”

“You don’t answer a question with another question—”

“We need to be transparent with each other if either of us wants to make it out relatively unscathed.”

He doesn’t look too happy but he answers anyway, “My ship and five hundred thousand for all our trouble. Two months from now at the Green Islands up north.”

The Green Islands were anything but green, the glaciers being near uninhabitable owed to the ruthless weather. It was smart enough, it’d be near impossible to bring as much violent power that far north, no matter how influential anyone is.  

“Is five hundred thousand all I’m worth?” you feel the beginnings of a sneer rise up your mouth. You aren’t sure what prompted it but you don’t want to fight it either. 

“Didn’t know I was bartering for a fucking princess’ case, did I?” he snaps. “Now tell us how you want us to commit the undetected homicide of a King.”

“We need to blow up his ship.” To your surprise (and maybe even a little horror), the pirate captain breaks into a slight grin. Neither do you miss other bits of his crew releasing a bit of a snicker. 

There’s a flare of defiance within you, “Do you have any better ideas then?” 

“No, no. Go on,” he says with his head hung. You’re surprised he has the character to shield his smile. 

“He doesn’t frequent the seas but I’m almost sure he’d be present at the exchange.”

“Almost?” he questions.

You hesitate. The combined chance of needing the crown home and seeing to the downfall of his enemies would be enough warmth to send him to the greenlands himself. You were confident, but your father could also be unpredictable.

“He’ll be there. I’m sure of it.” 

The pirate captain lifts his head, locking eyes with you. You try not to look as weak as you felt, as unsure as you felt, pooling all the remaining confidence into your face. 

He swallows before looking away, addressing one of the crew members. “How big are we talking?”

Jun looks up like he’s only just begun to pay attention, fumbling over the revolver in his hands as it thuds to the ground like a theatrical mistake, “What?”

His captain sighs before replying, “Explosion. How big does it need to be to blow up a naval ship with a King on it?”

The man brings a hand up to the back of his head, scratching his nape. “If it’s anything like this one, we’re gonna need a lot of ammo.” 

“Just enough to sink it,” you speak before you could decide not to. “Even better if they don’t realise it’s happening.”

He thinks for a moment. “We could plant it in the bilge somehow.”

“But how do we get on that ship? When they’re giving us a tour of the lower decks?” The man you recall as Seungkwan scoffs. 

“Throw a grenade on board somehow?” you hear one of them suggest. 

“Real subtle, Chan,” you hear another mock. 

The war room is in shambles before you know it, loud voices talking over threats to slit throats and to shove people overboard. The room is humid and it feels as though the light from the oil lamps are fading. You close your eyes amidst the utter chaos, rubbing the heel of your palm on your temple in an attempt to soothe the throbbing vein. 

“Enough!” The pirate captain has spoken and you have the urge to ask what took him so long. 

Tranquility once again and you almost thank the man. Before anyone can say another word, nausea begins to build in your stomach. 

It takes you a minute to realise the room was spinning and that you weren’t completely losing your mind. The ship begins to rock harder as the seconds tick by, everybody in the room seemingly still as they perceive the change.

“Batten down the hatches,” the pirate captain says to no one in particular.

Chan is the only one who moves to the door to leave before he’s interrupted. 

“All of you. Those clouds weren’t looking too nice up there, we’ve got a storm on our hands.”

By everyone he surely did not mean you, because as the room rushes out and you hear the thuds of boots clamouring up to the main deck, you’re left alone with the captain. Yet again.

It’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep steady, and you wonder how he’s able to remain balanced while on his feet. It isn’t long before your chair begins to slide as well, the legs croning as they slip on the hardwood. You spring up on instinct, hands coming to the bolted down drawing table to stabilise yourself. 

The pirate captain seems unphased, moving the curtains on the far end to try to get a glimpse at where the water breaks. He steps like he knows exactly where the evermoving floor would be, barely glancing below to gauge his footing. 

“Shouldn’t you be up there?” There’s effort in your voice, your grip on the table as hard as ever as the ship banks to a hard left. He barely grabs the wall in support. 

“Huh? They can figure it out themselves, they’re big boys,” he grunts.

“Your big boys were at each other’s throats a moment ago,” you grunt back, stumbling at a particularly forceful lurch. 

“If you weren’t so ill prepared they wouldn’t need to use their brains, that’s always dangerous,” he shoots back. He’s on the other end of the room, pushing the unbolted cabinet back in its place 

“I gave you a job and it's up to you to see it done, I’m not—ah— I’m not supposed to be planning at all!” 

“Are you?” He’s turned to look at you know, mouth hitched in a snarl as his forehead reflects a light sheen. “Because trying to murder a—”

“Trying to murder a King isn’t a normal task,” you finish for him in a hiss. “Yes, as you’ve reiterated a million times.”

“Great, so you know!” Sarcasm is a deadly look on him, you realise as he walks over from the cabinet to where you were in the middle of the room. The waves have given in, the rocking becoming significantly slower. “Now do you mind telling us about a plan that actually has better odds?”

Your white knuckles have relented, the hands that gripped the table coming loose as you stare back at the pirate in defiance. “I should just hand you over.”

“It’s sweet you think you’re in charge here,” the grit in his voice is evident. “This isn’t your turf anymore, miss princess.”

“You don’t trust me, and you don’t give me reason to trust you—ugh.”

The waves seemed to have decided she hadn’t had enough just yet, this particular lurch sending you hurtling backwards into the wall, back hitting the hardwood as the stable pirate himself loses his footing. You could almost believe you’d landed sideways with the gravity that’s lost its way beneath your feet. 

The chair you were once sitting on is hurtling towards you with a vengeance, gaining momentum as you simply watch it approach like a wooden bullet. A boot clad foot kicks it to the other end and you realise the pirate captain’s gotten hold of his bearings before you have. 

“What happened to being transparent with one another?” he huffs, breathless and wide eyed as he attempts to pull himself to his feet. 

There’s another lurch that sends you both skidding towards the table, just short of grabbing on before you’re hurtled into the cabinet that had moved again, and now slams back into the wall with the weight of the sea and two humans with a bang!

“Fine. You give me your ammo to blow up the bilge, let me on the ship with my dear father and one of you scoops in and saves me before I drown with him,” you yell over the sounds of clanging and banging of everything on this cursed ship, and the whooshing and thunders of the skies, winds and water. “And if I riddled the chances of you letting me drown with my father? Where does that leave me?”

“On the bottom of the seabed,” he deadpans. “But that also leaves me without my freedom.”

You find the opportunity to look at him for a moment, and he’s looking at you too. He looks away towards the door, already making moves to walk out and join his crew above deck. The conversation was over, and it was evident in your lack of reply.

Mother nature, however, sends another one in as a surprise and you're both sent flying to the other end of the ship, yet again. 

There’s a cushion to your blow this time as you find yourself landing right into the pirate captain’s chest, hand above his heart in your instinct to save yourself any more bruises. Between your bickering and the staggering of the ship, his shirt had flown open nearly down to his navel. 

Your eyes barely register the nasty scar across his left pec, instead moving upwards to lock eyes with him. It’s insanity, how you instinctively dart your eyes towards his half open mouth. 

“If you wanted me that bad, miss princess, you could’ve just asked.”

Whatever airborne drug that’d been willy nillying in your noggin seems to spin into a rage as his words register a moment too late. Clenched jaw and a vice grip on his shirt, you spit back. 

“I don’t ask for things. They come to me.”

There’s a crash above you and you realise the oil lamp that was suspended above has shattered, raining glass over your forms. 

Expect you don’t feel it, because he’s ducked over you and suspended his arms in the air to catch the crystalline. 

Before you can decide whether it was instinct or not, you hear a yell at the door.

“Captain! One of the—oh.” 

A barely balancing Mingyu, is staring into the now dimly lit war room, his captain and their supposed prisoner pressed against one another in a dark corner of the room. 

Your instinct forces you to take a slow step backwards. 

“Get back up,” he snarls, already pushing past you to stalk towards the door. He actually makes it this time, shoving Mingyu into the hall towards the stairs. 

Not as much as a glance back before he slams the door shut, leaving you in the tattered war room alone, shards of glass at your feet.

THE STORM SEEMS TO have done its damage as it calmed itself for the rest of the morning and well into the day. 

One of them had come down and escorted you to your quarters, Chan telling you that you could keep it while the rest of them adjusted in the other cots and quarters aboard. Changing out of your ragged, days old clothes felt luxurious, the familiar scent of your quarters putting your tense shoulders at ease; or at least a semblance of such. 

Neither you nor the captain have attempted to speak to each other after the incident in the war room. Having berated yourself for letting your guard down enough, you chalked it up to the lack of food and sleep and put the matter to rest in some deeply buried chest in your head. 

For now you board up the door of your cabin (because you haven’t completely lost it), and burrow under the covers for some much needed shut eye. 

You aren’t sure how long the universe lets you rest, because unless you’ve slept all the way to the Green Islands the banging on the door seems incessant enough to warrant an arrest of its own. The sleep is slow to leave, and it’s hard enough to push an entire drawer against a door, the bleariness paired with whoever the fuck was outside the door isn’t making it easier to push it away from the entrance either. 

By the time you’ve wrenched the door open, you’re thoroughly annoyed, and met with a very alarmed Seungkwan. 

“Oh thank goodness, I was about to try opening it,” he says, looking genuinely relieved. “I thought you might’ve….anyway.”

“You weren’t trying to break in before?” you ask.

He only thrusts a tray of rations and water towards you, “Captain said to give this to you.”

Accepting the tray, you try to balance it in one hand with furrowed brows, “Oh.”

“Um. That’s it, sorry for waking you up.” He makes a move like he’s about to turn around and leave but falters. “If…if you need anything a bunch of us are on the main deck.”

And then he’s gone. 

You take it as your cue to shut the door, kicking one of the heftier pieces of furniture against it before moving back inside. 

When you peer up your tiny window, it’s late afternoon and the beginnings of orange on the surface tell you the sun is beginning to set. You decide it was a good enough amount of sleep. Setting the tray down on the smaller than usual desk, you find that these pirates do not have a knack for subtlety. Many of your letters and papers are haphazardly stacked and shoved into one corner of the table, very obviously sifted through. 

Not that you care too much, there was nothing awfully important that you wouldn't have told them yourself. Ripping off a piece of bread from the tray, you take pleasure in chewing as loudly and as open mouthed as you wished, plucking the parchment at the top of the pile to study. 

It’s another one signed by your father, not a question of your wellbeing in sight as he scrawls ink on paper all the incorrect things you did in the Southerner’s banquet last month. If anything, you were glad the stupid Admiral was away from your presence, his incessant habit of reporting your every breath and turn to your father was becoming too much to handle. 

This was one of his tamer letters, less insults attached to his criticisms but a pain to read anyway. You don’t brush away the crumbs that fall onto the parchment. 

There is not a diplomatic bone in your body. Perhaps move on from drinks and dessert and into more important territories besides the Duke’s son. Our kingdom needs a ruler that’s strong, not one that forgets where she is after a sip of brandy!

If you squint hard enough, it almost reads as a parent scolding a child for a spill, like regardless of what you did, he might just love you the same. 

You wonder how good of a mood he was in when he wrote this. 

Sifting through the rest of the papers you take a mental note of every reason he’s given you to believe that you’d be a hopeless ruler, a few years ago you even questioned why he kept you around before realising his contradicting intentions. As you read, letter by letter, you think of reasons you know are going to make you a better ruler, better than him and better than his stupid court of old men.

These pirates are a blessing, you think, and you aren’t about to let this chance from the universe drown in these waters.

HOSHI ISN'T IN TROUBLE. No, he isn’t. On his butt on the sleek floorboards of the ship, his own golden dagger glinting in the sunlight as it's held in a threatening hold, except it isn’t in his hands. 

It’s pointed right into his jugular vein, held by some grimy sailor who considers himself something akin to a pirate. Perhaps the stench this sorry excuse of a crew carries around may be their idea of a criteria, but as Hoshi remains inches away from death, all he can think about is the atrocious fingers around his dagger, and all the scrubbing he’s going to be doing after this is all over. 

Mingyu had warned him, told him to take down the flag of the navy from the mast, the royal seal in the smack middle of the ginormous thing. He brushed it off. He wasn’t quite sure if he was tipsy, hungry or just plain exhausted when he made that decision, because he’d forgotten just how stupid some of these simpleton sailors could get. 

They were taken by surprise, their only weapons mops and buckets of soapy water as they were ambushed by some overlooked wherry that had suddenly thrown hooks over their railing and climbed up like uninvited sewer rats. 

In the initial confusion, interrupted mid-chorus of some pretty siren and her pirate prince, the first few intruders had simply crumpled over onto the slippery deck, a few slipping overboard completely from the suds and water on the wood. His crew, and Hoshi himself, could only stand and watch as the newcomers sabotaged themselves for a few incredulous moments before they gained their bearings. 

Chan and Seungkwan swang their mops right into the necks of a couple, sending them into the ocean without waiting for a splash. 

Hoshi slips out his dagger with practised ease, swinging the butt of the hilt over the head of another ambushing intruder, right on the head as he crumpled to the floor with a loud thud. He kicks him over for an indication of where he came from. No ink that shows an alliance, no brooch or jewels with a crest. 

New guys, ones that were clearly still learning the ropes. 

Hoshi’s crew had better senses than required for him to yell out orders, and it only took a few more disgruntled minutes to disable the remaining extra men aboard. 

“Where the fuck did these guys come from?” he asks no one in particular, mostly just annoyed that they were disturbed. 

Minghao, who’s peeking over the railing replies, “It’s a tiny thing. They either lost their actual boat or didn’t have one at all.”

He vaguely registers him making a jerking arm movement over the exterior before he hears a wail and a splash. “Disgusting.” Minghao holds his hands away from his body like he didn’t want it anymore. 

Hoshi’s mistake was keeping his guard down, because before anyone could warn him, the dagger that he held loosely against his hip had slipped out his palm. The next thing he knows, his neck is in some grimy sleeve’s grip, and the point of his dagger is lodged into his own throat. He holds his breath, afraid he might pass out completely from the stench alone. 

“Not a move.” He sounds like a boy more than anything, but his grip indicates a harsher life. “Everybody into that fishing boat. I’ll throw this one in when you’re done.” 

He sounds unstable, but that only makes him more dangerous. Hoshi can’t try to wiggle his way out of this one, one wrong move and it’s the end. His crew can’t do anything as they stand with broken mops and empty buckets as their weapons. 

It was stupid of him to even allow himself to be cornered like this, not when he’s weaselled his way out of more dangerous situations with more ease than this. 

His crew looks at him, and he can only close his eyes in encouragement. He watches as Jun steps over one of the defeated bodies to reach the hooks that’ve lodged into the railing. His movements are slow, and he can tell he notices the unhinged nature of this boy that he doubts is barely over 17. 

Chan follows, then Seungkwan as Jun double checks the integrity of the ropes. He’s stalling. 

“Hurry!” It was supposed to come out as a threat, but it sounded more like a plea from the boy. 

And then Jun stops completely, his eyes trained on Hoshi. His eyes are wide, his grip on the rope so tight he can see the whites of his knuckles from the other side of the ship. 

No, he wasn’t looking at him, he was looking behind him. Before he can register, there’s a loud bang of a gunshot, and Hoshi feels the body of his captor slump against his back, his dagger dropping to the ground with an ominous clang. He falls with him, turning over to push the dead weight of the body off of him. 

There’s smoke in the air when Hoshi looks back and it takes him a moment to realise who just basically saved his life. 

You stand in your nightgown, shawl over your shoulders, and a revolver, Jun’s revolver, clenched tightly in both hands. It remains frozen in the air, hovering as he takes in your face. Eyes wide, mouth open slightly, the colour drained from your face. 

Hoshi scrambles to get up as the rest of the crew swarm both him and you. He grabs his dagger before anything else, looking back to see a bullet lodged in the back of his captor’s skull, blood pooling the deck. 

He looks back at you shoving the revolver back into Jun’s hands eagerly, like you didn’t want to feel the warmth of the metal any more than you wanted to make that shot. 

He looks back at the cooling body, and then back at you, an undeniable warmth overcoming his chest. 

You just saved his life.

“Are you alright?” he hears Chan ask you. You nod slowly, and then quickly. 

“Where did you find this?” Jun asks. 

“Uh, in one of the quarters. Downstairs. I went down because I thought it’d be safer, you were handling it and I didn’t want to get in the way. But then…all your weapons were there.” 

Your voice sounds airy, like you were in a daze. Hoshi comes to the stark realisation that this may have been your first time with a weapon, and then even more horrifying, your first kill. 

“I’m sorry, I just thought it was getting out of hand and—” 

“It’s alright,” Seungkwan says. He watches as you let him lead you back down the stairs below decks. 

It was like the shock turned you into a different person, complacent, less defiant. Seungkwan clearly had more of an emotional range, because it certainly took Hoshi too long to realise you might be on the edge of panic. 

Hoshi doesn’t say a word as you disappear, the smell of gunpowder from the singular shot wafting through the deck. He doesn’t realise he’s staring into space until Mingyu interrupts. 

“Should we—”

“Throw them overboard,” Hoshi says, voice flat. 

“But, this one seems like he’ll come around. We could question him and drop him off wherever next—”

“He’s a shit seaman, if even a pirate, he’s got what came for him. Throw. Him. Overboard.” Hoshi is out of breath, yet grits the words out through clenched teeth. “All of them.”

Hoshi slips his dagger back into its sheath at his hip. All he can think about is your blown pupils and you in your nightgown. All he can think about is how they were almost bested by a child. All he can think about is how you had to make that final shot to save his ass, that he couldn’t do it himself. 

Mingyu senses his mood and asks no more questions, simply pushing the remaining bodies out into the water. He vaguely registers Minghao sending the men a prayer into the sea. Mingyu’s already trying to get the stupid naval flag off the mast, stripping off his jacket and disposing of it at the base to start climbing. 

Chan pushes a clean rag into his chest, and he looks down to receive it and notes a tinge of blood at his collar. Right, he was bleeding. 

They go back to cleaning, except it’s a lot more silent. 

Jun walks back up to help, but this time he has both of his clean, black revolvers strapped at his hip.

THERE WERE FEWER PEOPLE in the war room this time around, the captain sits beside Mingyu, Jun and Minghao as they attempt to sketch out a crude rendition of your discussion. The pirate captain does nothing but use his dagger to pick under his nails, barely speaking as he listens in on the conversation. 

Not that you cared, you and the rest of his crew seemed to get along better than you did with the captain anyway. Saving the man’s life seemed to hold no weight to him, not that you expected it but a ‘thank you’ would have sufficed. 

“Keep the grenade til the last minute if it makes you feel better, so you’ll know I’m not trying to sink the wrong ship,” you sigh as you clarify. Minghao doesn’t reply as he scribbles the details. Jun rolls his eyes at his meticulous nature. 

“We need to port in the next couple days if I’m gonna finish this grenade in time,” he says, looking at his captain pointedly. 

“We can stop at Port Ash,” Hoshi says. 

Port Ash was no man’s land, which also meant it was every man’s land. 

Being mostly occupied by pirates and other thieves and criminals it was considered dangerous territory for anyone who didn’t speak in lies, deceit and fists. This crew would fit right in, but you worry for yourself. 

“That’s not gonna be till a week and a half,” Mingyu interjects. 

Jun frowns as he looks at Mingyu and then back at his captain, “I can’t wait that long.”

“We’ll pick up what we can at Hasry when we stop for rations,” Hoshi replies. 

“But—”

“Deal with it. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

Jun looks like he wants to say something, and Mingyu has the good sense to interject again to ask more questions about the plan. 

“How much manpower do you think the king’ll have?” he asks.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you lean back in your chair. “I have no idea. Could be five, could be fifty.”

“Not even an inkling?”

“Considering how he wants the lot of you gone, it’s probably on the larger side. But…” you pause. 

“But?”

“He’s smart. Always seemingly one step ahead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he catches us blind.” 

“I know enough about that,” Hoshi snorts. There’s a glint in his eye that suggests something, but you don’t press.

“I was wondering…we should probably change course even if it takes us longer. My father might intercept—”

“Did that. Didn’t take the obvious alternative route either,” Mingyu replies, and you note that he looks proud of himself. “We can take our time too, the ransom note suggested we took the way past Scarsfield.”

“We should be careful of other boats anyway,” you say, gulping down a lump in your throat before continuing. “Those other sailors could’ve been my father’s men too, for all we know.”

“They were on a smaller boat too,” Hoshi adds, he looks like he’s making connections in his brain. “What’re the odds they were dropped farther back into a smaller boat?”

There’s a pause as you absorb what he’s implying. “Are you saying they’re on our tail?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” he says, exhaling heavily through his nose. “He’s done it before. It was a sorry attempt then and it was a sorry attempt now.”

“How did you shake him off last time?”

The panic in your chest is barely there, but as you register the possibility, you find yourself breathing increasingly heavy. 

“Circling farther out before going the opposite way so we wouldn’t cross paths.” He shakes his head. “But we can’t do that now, not when we can’t afford detouring. The port stops are as late as I’m willing to go.”

“What if we skip Hasry? It’s our more obvious stop, we’ll just stop at Ash later,” Minghao suggests. 

“We’ll starve, we’ve got no food,” Hoshi gruffs.

“Portwater?” 

“Too far.”

It’s silent yet again as everyone racks their brains. You feel very useless all of a sudden, you didn’t know the names of harbours or ports this far out.

“We’ll just port at Hasry and be extra careful, there’s nothing we can do.” Hoshi sighs at his own ultimatum. 

He gets up and walks around the table to the door, “I’ll update the others.”

You glance as he walks past you, his figure leaving a gust of wind in your face. He smelled nice, which was saying something considering the state some pirates are known to be in. As he brushes past, your gaze is met with the other side of the war room, an empty oil lamp bracket on the wall. 

The memory of the storm floods your mind, and suddenly your cheeks are burning. Snapping your head back, you're thankful they’re all absorbed in the papers and plans on the table, oblivious to the memory that’s flashed before your eyes. Mingyu was the one who saw you in your compromising position, and you didn’t know him well enough to decide whether he’d do something as dumb as dish out his captain’s ‘affairs’. 

You file out the room with them. They don’t escort you to your rooms, make sure you stay in one place, restrict your wandering anymore. Perhaps they’d realised you weren’t actively attempting to sink the ship anymore, or that if you jumped off the edge it didn’t matter to them that much, but you appreciated the space anyway. 

Briefly catching Seungkwan filling Mingyu in on the past couple hours they’d been below deck, you turn over to catch his eye. He waves, and you wave back. You don’t realise what you did till it already happened, noting the smile on his face as he did it. You choose to move past it and find the captain. 

There was something you wanted from him. 

There’s no trace of him on the main deck, eyes scanning the area to no avail. A movement from above catches your peripheral attention, eyes squinting as you crane your neck up to look. Hoshi has leaned his back against the railing of the crow’s nest, arms crossed, visible hand occupied with a brass telescope that glints in the sunlight. 

He isn’t using it though, merely gazing at the horizon with furrowed brows. As though he could see better without the device in his hand. In the few minutes that you’re looking at him, you notice the muraled, multicoloured shirt that blows with the wind, a kaleidoscope of beiges, greens and reds. The crop of his blonde hair blends in with the clear blue-white sky. 

Briefly wondering how he’s managing the impossible heat, a hand coming over your own eyes as a visor, you simply look back down. Seungkwan is next to you. You aren’t quite sure how he got there, but he stands next to you, hands on his hips, a pleasant expression on his face. 

“Is there anything you want when we dock? We’re trying to make a list,” he says. Somehow, the prospect of pirates making lists boggled you a little. It was a little jarring, not quite sure why he asked a captive anyway.

But then again, were you a captive anymore?

“I don’t think so, no,” you reply and then juggle whether you should push it with another measly formality. “Thank you for asking.”

“That was your first kill, wasn’t it?”

“What?” You knew what he was talking about, but you weren’t expecting him to bring it up in the moment when he’s asking you about restocking supplies. And especially not with a smile on his face. 

“That day, when you used Jun’s revolver to shoot the lad.” 

A kid. He was a child. 

“I…yeah I’d never done it before.”

“What made you do it?” he asks, remaining as nonchalant as ever. 

“I—I don’t know, it looked like there wasn’t another option,” you say, not quite sure of yourself either. 

Why did you shoot him? You’d never laid hands on a gun before, your father forced you into the category of archery and crossbows, not that you were very good at them either but it was also because you simply wanted to spite your father by being plain bad. It worked, because it only took a year and a half and an arrow straight into his study window to retire from the sport entirely.

Even then, your targets had been apples, barrels and tree trunks. Never a person. 

You’d heard of what people tended to do in pressuring situations, and with the way the aftermath unfolded, it didn’t seem like you made the wrong decision to pick up that revolver anyway. 

But the feeling lingers, the same one that you saw as you gazed into the back of the boy that held the captain of this ship hostage. It felt wrong. Like watching the pirate captain cornered was a picture you couldn’t quite make sense of in your head. 

So you pulled the trigger. 

“In any case, we’re glad you made that decision. We all owe you for it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you gulp, inhale and press your lips in a line. “That’s a lot for a pirate to say.”

“I know.”

BY THE TIME YOU manage to corner Hoshi it’s already the next day, and you’re only a couple hours away from docking at Hasry. 

It’s an anxious ordeal, the crow’s nest constantly occupied by someone trying to catch sight of a possible tail. There was no sign, yet anyway. 

“I want to learn to use a knife.”

He was piling coiled ropes when you’d said it, pushing the heap to the side, sweating through his clothes. There was a flash of confusion on his face as he registered you. 

“Why? So you can slit all our throats in our sleep?” he grumbles as he pushes a barrel against the railing. He’s too aggressive, and the force has the splashback soaking his clothes in freshwater, tsk-ing audibly. 

You ignore the way his previously loose shirt now sticks to him, ignore the way the droplets land on your boots when he shakes his sleeve. 

“We’ve discussed what we might be up against, I don’t want to be useless when the time comes.”

“Seemed pretty alright with that revolver.���

“Anyone can shoot a gun,” you say, getting the sudden urge to fidget with the front of your shirt. You try to make your voice sound as declarative as possible. “I want to learn to fight. With a knife, with a sword, with my hands if I have to.” 

He doesn’t say anything as you look down, fiddling with the tassels on your shirt. Your excuse was the sun and the way it was beating down on the deck this afternoon, getting tired of squinting to simply look straight. When the silence prolongs you look up to push further, juggling with bringing up the fact that you saved his life and that, as Seungkwan very graciously told you, he owes you. 

The sound your throat makes is unhuman, because when you look up the captain's soaked shirt is now off his back. 

The skin is near white from the glare of the sun, remnants of glazed water that’s somehow made its way to his back as well. The dip in his shoulder blade reflected a dark marking, one that you couldn’t make out. 

He wrings it as you can only watch, mouth gaping like a fish. Hanging it over one of the suspended ropes to dry, he mutters as he walks to the lower decks. 

“Fine,” he says nonchalantly. “We’ll get you a knife at Hasry.”

Hasry. Right. 

The port is quiet, at least as quiet as a port can be. There’s not much to see but fishermen both returning and leaving for another week's worth of fish supply. Minghao manages to pay and convince the harbourmaster that they were merchants on their way back to the Kingdom, stopping for supplies. The naval make of the ship helped, and then the crew pulled lines and ropes secured from masts in ways you couldn’t quite decipher. 

You assumed you would stay on board, yet when Chan knocked and brought you some roughspun clothes from the town, you were informed you’d be joining them. 

Hoshi deemed it safer, keeping the rest of the crew on board while he, along with you and Seungkwan, ventured into the village to get what was needed and leave before the sun fully set. If they really were being followed, the ship was going to be the first thing they seized. 

Pulling the grey shawl further up your head, you attempt to look as blended as you could, Chan pressing down your shoulders to force you into a slouch. 

“Stop walking like you're important,” he had said. 

“I’m a princess,” you snapped back, but he wasn’t listening, only jabbing at you to keep the haughtiness out of your tone before it caught somebody’s attention. 

The town was a quaint little place, something out of what you were read from storybooks, reminiscent of the paintings that you’d run past on the walls of the palace. The streets cleaner than you’d expected, the faint scent of baked goods in the air mixed with, onion soup, was it? In any case you were glad you were past the fish market, the yelling and the stench nearly sending you to the pavement, gagging. 

When Hoshi returns, you and Chan are looking at a jewellery stall that’s selling necklaces, bracelets and anklets that look like rosaries; colours of deep ocean blue and sunset pinks, beautifully vibrant against their grey canvas backdrop. 

You can only observe from afar, instructed to not interact with anyone while he was gone. Hoshi was gone to get food supplies, but returned empty handed. Systems were in place, that the crates would be on their way to the “big naval ship” at the docks for the rest of the crew to receive.

“They said there was a blacksmith up this alley” Hoshi says, eyes also trained on the uncharacteristically colourful jewellery stall, but he does nothing to move towards it. “We can get your knife there.”

“Knife?” Chan asks, confused. 

“Miss princess wants to learn to fight—”

“Don’t!” Chan hisses, eyeing the men in black uniform that patrol the market from the shadows. 

“It’s fine, they’re too far,” Hoshi says. “Let’s get this over with.”

You do find a blacksmith, an older man with a greying beard and bloodshot eyes that presents Hoshi and Chan with an array of knives and daggers. Either they were able to give an excuse, or he gave no mind to the third woman that trailed behind, the blacksmith continued to deal with the two men as they haggle over prices. 

There’s another seller a ways away, and she’s laid out her goods on the floor on what looks like old drapes. It’s a woman, not much older than you were, unravelling a long string of leather cord. She cuts it, strings a charm through and seals the frayed end with a candle flame that burns at her side. 

The curtain she’s laid her accessories on is patterned with bright colours, and you realise you can’t make out any of it from where you stand. 

Glancing behind you, the men are still occupied with their bartering, seemingly forgetting of your presence. Taking a step back, you pretend to skim through the neighbouring stalls, glancing breezily at woven baskets, layers of folded fabric and towers of painted ceramic cups. 

You stop before the laid out array of more necklaces and earrings, scanning the ground. The vendor looks up and gives you a big, crooked toothed smile, urging you to come forward, to take a look at what she has to offer. 

Something does catch your eye, and you immediately crouch down to see it better. Picking up the necklace from the charm, you let the gold and red rest on your fingers as you study the make. 

“That one’s new,” the woman says. “Practical too.”

The small brass letter opener that’s looped through the cord looks like it could do its job just fine despite its miniscule size. 

“It’s quite popular among the busy merchants,” the vendor speaks in a rough tone, almost like she had a perpetual sore throat. “Easier to use this instead of looking for those bulky ones in their neverending drawers and—and in their cabinets.”

She lets out a laugh, “Quite pretty too.”

You stare at it for a moment, “How much?”

“Ten coin.”

You sigh, setting the necklace back down onto the cloth. Standing straight, you turn to walk away before she yells again. 

“I’ll do seven!” 

You consider whether you should speak, but you also doubt you’d be recognized just by the sound of your voice.

"I don’t have coin,” you rasp. 

“How about that pretty thing on your finger then?” she asks. 

The ring on your middle finger is a simple band of silver, a coming of age present from your father’s court a few years ago. You stare at the band, worth boatloads more than what this woman in an alley was offering you.

But you find yourself moments later, middle finger empty, and pocket lined with the long leather necklace with the miniature letter opener charm. 

By the time you return to the blacksmith’s shop front, Chan is handing the man his coin as Hoshi holds an object sheathed in fabric. They turn around just soon enough to make it seem like you never left. 

“Why are you standing so far away?” Chan asks. “Come closer.”

You listen, moving closer to the both of them as they get ready to make the trek back to the docks where the ship waits. 

“The crates have probably been loaded too,” Hoshi says, his hands suddenly empty. You assume he’s pocketed the knife somewhere. “Let’s hurry and leave before—”

“Princess?”

It was your mistake that you turned around to acknowledge the title, something you realise as soon as you register the man that spoke to you. 

Henley was a stout man, dressed even now in the finest suit of a berry colour, hair white as a ghost. There was no reason for a merchant so rich he had ties with the royal family to be wandering in a harbour market, but he also had every reason to be here. 

If it was the recognition in your eyes, or the fact that they were just being smart, you feel one of the pirates wrap their fingers around your upper arm and pull you to walk away from the alley. 

“Princess!” Henley yells and you cringe at his volume. People are looking now, and you briefly wonder why you aren’t running yet. 

Your heart is pounding against your chest so hard it’s deafening any other sound in your ears, you still don’t know which one has a hold of you, but you let them guide you into a speed walk as you exit the narrow alleys of the main market. 

The shawl above your head is pushed further down, shielding your face in a shadow. There’s nothing in your mind other than Clarence Henley and his rich suit, his gold pocket watch, his trimmed, white hair. His face that you only ever saw within palace walls, always accompanied by your father. 

There’s a good chance you’re shaking, because you can feel your body rejecting it with the pain in your palms that you can only consider to be your own nails pressing into your hand. 

The stench of the fish market helps, bringing you back from your daze as you finally register the ground beneath your feet. It’s only a few more minutes till you reach the docks and you’re suddenly being pushed up the ramp that leads to the main deck of the ship.

It’s immediate comfort, the familiar brown of the floorboards, the scent of saltwater and warping sounds of the sails. You’re led to your quarters, where you finally let the makeshift hood and cape fall. 

“Are you alright?” 

Snapping your head up, you’re met with Seungkwan and his concerned gaze. 

“Oh, erm.” Your voice sounds…not like your own. 

“It’s okay, breathe.” It helps, because it really did feel like you’d forgotten to breathe. 

“We’re leaving in just a few, everything’s been loaded. Nobody followed you on board, don’t worry.”

Right. You were on the ship, you were in your quarters with some of the most feared pirates on the seas. 

The way Seungkwan is easing you through your gulps of water suggests legends in the mix, but you appreciate it regardless. 

When you’ve come round, feeling more like yourself, the ship has already left Hasry Harbour, sailing into the deeper waters of the ocean. 

“Captain said they couldn’t run because it just would’ve been more suspicious,” Seungkwan informs you as you nod. “Did you…did you recognise him? The man at the market.” 

The thoughts come flooding back, the colour of his suit, the jarring nature of a man of such wealth standing in a rundown port market. 

“He’s a merchant, one of the wealthiest. A friend of my father’s. If he even has any friends.” 

You pause as you think about the near blackout you’d had, the way the panic more than boiled over, taking over your senses and your rationality. 

“I think…” you trail off. “I think I just felt like it was the end. I finally had an opportunity to get rid of that tyrant and seeing something that was from home, felt…it felt like I was going to end up right back where I started.”

Seungkwan doesn’t say a word as you digest your own words, accepting your own fear that had rendered you useless in the time it probably mattered most. 

“Do you feel better now?”

“A little,” you answer. 

“Maybe a weapon can help.”

At the door stands Hoshi, a stern expression on his face as he looks directly at you on the bed. In his hands, the same fabric covered knife he acquired at the market. 

You know that you asked for this, but the jolt in your stomach still makes itself known. 

“He’s right,” Seungkwan says, lifting from his chair. “Blades have a way of calming you in any case.”

You note the glinting hilt of Seungkwan’s sword sheathed at his hip, remember Hoshi’s own daggers that he seems to be emotionally attached to. 

Lifting your head back to Hoshi, you ask, “Can we start now?”

He smirks. 

ALL NIGHT, THE STUPID pirate captain had you taking swings at the air. 

“Your opponent’s baked a fruit cake by the time you were done with that swing,” he comments, continuously unhelpful. “Swing faster.”

It’s nighttime, nothing but a few oil lamps on the floor of the deck keeping you and Hoshi in the light. Your shoulder burns, your forearms are liquid, and your non-existent opponent remains forever stronger than you. 

“I’m done,” you huff, thoroughly spent. Crumbling to the floor, you bring your non-dominant hand up to your aching shoulder in an attempt to massage it. 

It’s been a while, the moon high up in the sky when you finally decide to quit it for the night. He lets you go without a fight, and you doubt you’d have the energy to if he decided to do it anyway. 

The following day, he’s tweaked his regiment a little, and you find that you’re finally swinging at something tangible; him. 

He leaves himself open, an invitation to strike wherever you want. You feign for his shoulder, but he sees you coming from a mile away, already deflecting your flattened blade that comes for his thigh.

“Don’t look where you want to strike, you’re giving yourself away.”

Furrowing your brows, you dislodge your knife from his own and back away again. He’s immediately cocking a brow, telling you to come at him again. You go for his middle, slashing your knife in an arc as he simply deflects. 

“Come on, find a pace,” he grunts. 

Coming down with your knife again, he blocks you but this time with his forearm, pushing you back by the wrists. It was a battle of strength, as he forces your wrists down. He was stronger than you, and there was no way you could push away, so you dispel your own force. He stumbles from the sudden forward force, and you pull away to take a swing from above. 

He recovers faster than you thought he would, already coming up when you’re ready to swing. He raises a hand to deflect, half a moment too late as your blade slashes across the heel of his hand. 

There’s a brief splash of red against the blue backdrop of the sky, and you gasp on instinct, immediately moving away. 

There’s an apology ready on your lips, mouth gaping as you watch him inspect the wound. You don’t get to say anything because he beats you to it. 

“Deep enough,” he comments, like he was inspecting a painting. “Keep this up and you might actually be good by the end of the week.”

Oh. 

“Alright,” he says again, moving back into position.

“Are you gonna wrap that?” you ask, referring to the bloody hand. 

“It’s fine, I’ve fought with worse,” he says. 

You blink as you reluctantly get back into position, bracing yourself as you continue to look at his hand dripping blood onto the deck. 

“You’re getting the hang of pacing, but you need to start considering your blade as an extension of yourself—JESUS!”

You’ve swung at him faster than you ever have, putting everything into that single tug of your knife. He wasn’t expecting it, still talking over your glances at his palm. He had his guard down, and you took the chance. He ducks on instinct, but it could’ve been another scar for him to remember if you’d made it. 

You stumble as he circles you to the other end, flattening his blade on your back.

“Nice try,” he says. “Really nice try. But you never turn your back to your opponent.”

“I lost my footing,” you defend, but even you knew that wasn’t an excuse. 

“And I just stabbed you in the back. And now I’ll have to present your corpse to your father and hope he’ll accept it and give me my ship. We all lose.” 

The pressure of the blade leaves your back and you're suddenly left looking stupid despite doing something somewhat right. 

“You’d just swindle another poor sailor off his boat and move on,” you say. “You’re a slippery thing.”

He has a smile on his face that borders a smirk yet is innocently mischievous enough. It’s a strange sight, bloody hand, relaxed face. There’s a clean-ish rag on a nearby closed barrel that he uses to wipe the excess blood off his hands. 

“I keep going because I live without regret.”

You can only roll your eyes as a scoff leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You simply turn around, settling to the floor, going back to massaging your still aching shoulder. That last blow only made it worse.

“I don’t regret things, miss princess. Ask me why.”

You remain silent. 

“Come on,” he urges, that silly smile remaining on his face. He’s washing the wound now with freshwater from the barrel.

Sighing, you ask him, “Why?”

“Because I don’t ever do things I’d regret.”

“That insinuates you think before you act.”

“Right-O,” he declares, wrapping another torn cloth on his cleaned wound.

“Funny,” you answer. “Because I dont think I’ve ever seen any hint of light behind your eyes.”

He turns around to you, sheathing his dagger at his hip, a dangerous look in his eye.

“You’ve looked into my eyes?” 

The clench in your jaw must have been visible, or the look of disgust on your face might’ve been apparent just the same, because the pirate captain simply laughs out loud before retreating towards the stairs to go below deck. 

“I’ll send Jun up, practise with him.”

You wanted to send your knife, point first, hurtling into his retreating form. 

Never turn your back to your opponent, my ass. 

But you don’t, mostly because he’d probably manage to deflect that too. So you resort to sitting cross legged on the deck, staring at your dagger while waiting for Jun to meet you upstairs. 

Hoshi said he picked the knife based on a number of things you’d already forgotten, something about carbon steel and having a good grip. It’s quite pretty, you’ll have to admit. It’s plain silver, but the reflection it makes in the sun makes it difficult to look away. You’d gotten used to the handle and how it fit in your palm, Hoshi assured you that the more you used it, the more the hilt would mould into your grip. 

Jun stomps onto the deck, revolver-less and instead equipped with an array of knives that he deposits on the deck. 

“Should’ve picked a plain old gun,” he grumbles as he holds one of the longer blades in his hand. “Job’s done and you don’t need to get within ten feet.”

“Don’t have to reload a knife, do I?” you comment, taking the first swing. 

Jun may have an affinity for guns and explosives, but his handling with a knife was still nothing below an expert level. He pushes your arm off before spending you into a ballroom spin, flatting his blade at your collarbone. 

That could’ve been your throat.

“No, but by now I could’ve shot you, thrown you overboard, and been on my way to a nap,” he says in your ear, before releasing you as you get back into position again. 

That could’ve been your throat.

THE FOLLOWING WEEK PASSES with your days and nights muddled into a strange mixture of swinging knives and taking breaks slumped against the deck of the ship, unmoving. 

It’s a particularly hot day, the giant glowing orb beating down on the deck with no mercy. Not that it stops you, because the sun remains unwavering, high in the sky, and you remain unwavering in your wide legged stances as you lunge for Chan again. 

Chan’s entire being glistens in the afternoon light, the beads of sweat that he wipes off his forehead only seem to reappear every couple minutes. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, taking long breaths through his teeth amidst the difficult, humid air. 

You don’t doubt you look the same, one hand in your hair suggesting you just took a bath in your own sweat. But Chan seems accustomed to the heat, and while you weren’t, you couldn’t deny your growing comfortability with it all. 

It’d been a while since your meal, hence your sluggish movements were slowly turning increasingly sharp, having cornered Chan multiple times in the duration. You’re determined to not be the one to call for a time out, so you find yourself pushing beyond what you’ve been doing for the past week or so. 

There’s a particular punch of heat at your sides, and you can feel yourself slowing. 

One deep breath, a slow exhale.

It’s all clangs and reflections of knives, tiny droplets of blood as evidence of both of your tiny, unintentional nicks and cuts. You’re succeeding, pushing the man further and further back. 

“You’re getting sloppy, aim for the blade not my tendons,” Chan seethes through his teeth. 

“I’m trying,” you grunt through the effort. 

You’re set back for a couple minutes before you go back to pushing. Your lungs burn, your entire side is numb from exertion, but you give more than your body is made for, and you succeed—kind of. 

Chan back is against the railing of the deck before he realises it, and perhaps it was momentum, or sheer exhaustion, because one minute you’ve got eyes on Chan’s hands and his blade, and the next he’s gone. There’s a loud splash, and you suddenly realise what you’ve done. 

You just pushed Chan overboard. 

You scream before you can help it, dropping your knife with a loud, resonating clang. Pushing against the rails, you peer down to find a giant ripple on the surface of the ocean, whipping your head around to the stairs leading below deck to find Mingyu and Hoshi bounding upstairs. 

“What? Where’s Chan, he was supposed to be with you,” Hoshi asks, whipping his head around the deck. 

Your wide eyed, horrified response from near the edge tells them all they need to know. 

By the time Chan’s pulled himself on board, soaked and dripping like a wet poodle, you’ve sat yourself the furthest away from the railing to prevent any more trouble. He drops onto the floor, creating a human sized puddle. 

With the way the two men had merely sighed and threw the ladder over the exterior of the ship, you concluded that this must happen enough for them to be beyond the point of concern. It only adds to it when you see Mingyu nudge Chan’s unmoving but heaving body with the toe of his boot, giggling at his expense. 

You make your way over, crouching beside Chan sheepishly. 

“Sorry about that, got carried away.”

He’s sitting up now, quickly pulling himself back to his feet and you spring back from your crouched position. 

“It’s fine, happens.” He has a small smile on his face as he says it and you conclude that he may find the situation laughable as well. 

“Now, Chan,” Hoshi says, not letting Chan move into the deck any further from the railing. “What’s the first thing you learn about brawling on a ship?” 

Chan looks slightly embarrassed as he answers, “Be aware of your surrounding—ARGH.”

Hoshi pushed him into the water. 

You jump as you run back to the rails, watching as Chan’s head re-emerges at the surface after his second dip in the ocean. 

Just as you’re about to say something to Hoshi, he’s stuck his head over the railings as well, yelling at Chan in some singsong voice. 

“One time was a mistake, twice is a problem!”

To your left, only adding to your horror, is Mingyu doubled over in his fit of laughter, heaving as he giggled uncontrollably. He’s also holding onto the railings for dear life, but clearly, for reasons completely different from yours. 

The situation resolves itself as both you and Chan learn a few lessons of practicality. Deciding you’ve done enough damage to your body, you announce that you’d be retiring for the day. 

“Thank goodness, I was about to confiscate that stupid knife, I’ve been hearing clanging in my sleep,” Mingyu mumbles as he pulls the rope ladder back up to the deck. 

In any case, you have the urge to take a dip in the ocean yourself, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in your drying sweat. 

Grabbing a clean washcloth, you fill a bucket of freshwater from one of the barrels on deck and lug it into your quarters. The soaked washcloth does wonders for your overheated body, feeling enormously better after a change of clothes. 

Your scalp, however, remains itchy and burning, so you decide to go back up to the main deck, hoping to manoeuvre a hair wash situation without needing to mop the floors of your quarters. 

Refilling the bucket of freshwater, you set it down before scanning the empty deck for another spare bucket. You try not to scoff at the unwavering determination of the pirate crew to keep the deck unoccupied for such long increments, that last altercation teaching them absolutely nothing. You wonder how they’ve managed to survive for so long like this. 

Shaking the thought, you use the spare bucket as a way to deposit your waste water as you pour cups of clean water over your aching scalp. The feeling does wonders for you, letting the water wash away weeks worth of grime, sweat and stress. 

You’re almost back home in your quarters when the whiff of your hair salts hits your nose, the ones you’d packed for yourself, closing your eyes for a moment as you rub them into your scalp. You don't expect the clench that seizes your chest, but you falter when it happens anyway.

It’s nostalgic, and you hate it. 

It smells like the palace, like the incense your ladies in waiting always burned, the stench of citrus having made its way into your bones from the years of exposure to the scent. It’s too much as you blink back tears, owing them to the suds that have made their way into your eyes. 

The sting helps bring you back, opening your eyes to an orange glow and the waft of seasalt  hitting your nose. You’re more aggressive when you dunk your cup into the bucket this time, too aggressive as you feel the half full bucket tip over and spill water all over the deck as you cause yet another accident. 

Cursing loudly, you try to blink away the suds from your eyes, soap still in your hair as you try to figure out how to get another bucket of water without ruining your fresh change of clothes, mentally kicking yourself at not thinking this through.

“You realise we have to make do with that freshwater till we make it to Ash?” 

Wet hair still in your hands, you attempt to peer up at the voice, only to find Hoshi standing above you, arms crossed over his chest with a funny expression on his face. Huffing, you grumble out in response, “Can you just get me a fresh bucket?”

“Hm, I don’t know, can I?” He removes his gaze and begins to pretend looking over at the horizon and the setting sun. 

Chiding yourself for even bothering to ask, you reach for the tipped bucket yourself, deciding you’d figure it out yourself if this dumb pirate was choosing to be of no help. But before you could latch your fingers on the handle, the bucket’s snatched away. 

At first you think he’s being funny, taking the bucket away to watch you struggle even further. “You—”

Except you watch him as he dunks the bucket back into the barrel of freshwater, lugging it back to where you could reach. “Try not to paint the deck with it this time, I’ve already mopped twice.”

The thank you freezes on your tongue, and for some reason you can’t say it to him. So you make a scene of splashing into the bucket with vigour, sending spills over the rim and taking mild satisfaction in hearing him sigh at the sight of more mopping. 

He’s already gotten hold of the worn mop by the time you’re done as you remerge with clean hair, wringing your own mop of hair to deposit the excess water. Straightening out your back, you take hold of the spare cloth you brought along with you, patting your hair with it. 

The sun remains in its mission to cast its golden glow, but only illuminates Hoshi’s grumbling form as he mops up all the water you’ve spilled. 

“You know, I should really be making you—” He halts as he makes eye contact with you, your hands still occupied with patting your hair dry, flicking the wet strands. You have a rebuttal already prepared, waiting for him to finish his jab. 

“Make me what? you grind. 

You can’t make out the look on his face, somewhere between constipated and on the edge of a yelp, he keeps staring at you. You note a slight trickle of water making its way down your neck and chest, bleeding into your shirt as yet another water stain. 

“Nothing,” he says, to your surprise. 

And with that uneventful climax, you trudge back down to your quarters, a strange brewing in your chest.

[AN]: congrats you made it to the end of part 1!!!!! reblog ur thots and opinions or send me an ask, id love to hear the turmoil in ur minds lol

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 13

Cass looked up as Jason came out of Danny’s room. He looked better.

After Danny had been stabilized, Cass had taken Jason away from the safe house and to Jason’s place with the gym in the basement. She knew what it was like to have that need to act— to hurt to ruin to end— burning under her skin. She gave Jason the fight that he needed, letting him punch and kick until they were both covered in bruises and he was shaking apart in her arms.

Today he looked better.

“N is going to stay with Danny,” Jason said with a little nod backwards.

Dick, Jason, Tim, and herself had all been taking turns staying with their new brother. He was sleeping a lot right then; he was waking with nightmares a lot too. Waking up with one of them touching him seemed to help him calm the quickest so they took turns staying close.

“Red?” Cass asked with a little tilt of her head.

Jason glanced at the clock on the oven as he opened the fridge. He wasn’t really hungry, but eating out of habit. “He’ll be over here in two hours, I he doesn’t get distracted.”

“Be nice. Red cares. He’ll be here,” she said.

Jason seemed to settle on something and popped the top off before throwing it in the microwave. “Yeah… yeah. Danny’s pretty much wormed his way into all of our hearts, hasn’t he?”

“Yes. Will for rest too.”

Jason snorted. “As if he already hasn’t with B. They didn’t need to meet for that. You know how the old man is, a real bleeding heart of stone.”

Cass rolled her eyes and ordered again, “Be nice.”

Jason frowned at her but she just smiled serenely back until he rolled his eyes. It was a win enough for her.

The heated food was set on a trivet between them and Jason stuck two forks in it.

“I’m thinking we get O in here in a few days,” he said around his own large bite of lasagna. “Danny is healing better this time, but we don’t know what sort of set back this will cause mentally and all. Having another set of hands would be good.”

“O will like him.”

“Course she will,” Jason said with almost a scoff.

“No O and Red,” Cass added thoughtfully after she had chewed her own bite. This was definitely Jason lasagna and not Alfred lasagna.

“Yeah… I don’t think I’m going to trust those three in a room together for a long time,” Jason said with a dawning sort of horror. “Danny took apart the remote here and now it has buttons for services I didn’t even know existed. I swear it will change shows on its own too if no one is paying attention to it. It’s useful, I guess, but a little creepy.”

“Ghost brother,” Cass said with a little shrug.

Jason’s eyes narrowed before he let out an exhausted sounding sigh. “I hate that you might be right. Our controller could be haunted now.”

“Alas poor Yorick?”

“Wrong character,” Jason said, pointing with his fork, “but that is a play with a ghost in it so good job.”

Cass smiled happily at the praise. “Once Red is here, you and me errands?”

“You just want to buy Danny another present,” Jason said, jabbing his fork in her direction.

“Yes,” she said with zero shame.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Fine, but we have to do groceries too.”

-

Babs had been warned that Danny was still very skittish, but he hadn’t actually expected him to freeze like a scared rabbit when she came into the apartment. She stopped rolling forward and moved her hands to where he could see them both clearly.

“Hi Danny,” she said with her kindest librarian voice that she had. “I’m Oracle. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Danny shook his head, the motion ran through him like a shudder and whatever had frozen him shook off him like water off a dog. His smile was still shaky though, so Babs didn’t think that whatever the reaction had been was completely done.

“Hi, Oracle.” His voice was soft, rough, a little broken.

She’d heard from a number of the bats about the latest development and the trauma that went with it, but it as still something to see someone that looked like a young Bruce covered in bandages and looking more than worse for the wear.

“Are you alright if I come in? If you aren’t, that’s alright. I’ll just talk with Nightwing in the hall for a little.”

“No, you can come in,” Danny said, sitting up a little straighter. His eyes flicked over her again. “It’s just… your hair reminded me of someone is all. No one… no one bad.”

Babs offered him a smile and came the rest of the way into the apartment. “If that changes, just let me know.”

“It’s fine, really,” Danny said, though the words were still a little bit of a whisper.

“Well then,” Dick said, interrupting the end of the oddly tense moment, “Babs, do you want any hot chocolate?”

“Thank you, but without the mountain of whip cream I know you liked to put on it,” she said, giving Dick a playful glare.

He shrugged unrepentantly. “Danny?”

“Yes please,” he said. He was fussing with the blanket he had been sitting under, folding it up just so.

Babs moved towards the kitchen to give him a little bit of space and the illusion of some privacy.

‘What was that about?’ Babs asked Dick silently through raised eye brows, a slightly twisted frown, and a subtle nod towards the living room.

‘Not a damn clue,’ is what Dick’s shrug said back.

It almost made Babs sigh.

Danny was still a complete mystery to her. While they were being good and had avoided taking blood or fingerprints from Danny, Barbara had at least been trying to find Danny’s path through the city. She’d been saying for days now that the boy was like a ghost.

She just didn’t expect that to be as literal as it was.

The nickname had lost any of its fun.

“Danny, whipped cream for you?” Dick asked.

Danny’s eyes darted from Dick to Babs.

“Oh, feel free to have it like N,” Babs said with a smile. “I just don’t have the sweet tooth that he does.”

“She never has, it’s tragic,” Dick said with a sigh as he started to warm a pot of milk. “So, whipped cream.”

“Um, yes,” Danny said.

“I will take sprinkles though,” Babs said. “Do you have the little—”

“Bats?” Dick scoffed. “Of course I have the little bats. You can’t have proper hot chocolate without the little bat sprinkles.”

“Of course not,” words serious but unable to help the little smile that she sported.

“You all really like the theme, don’t you?” Danny asked, though he was smiling too now.

“The boy in the hoddie with the Bat logo on it does not get to talk,” Dick said and tossed a large marshmallow at Danny with pin point accuracy.

Danny caught it effortlessly and started to pull it apart with a little shrug. “Hood got if for me as a present.”

“Of course he did,” Tim said as he finally emerged from wherever he had been tucked away. He handed the tablet he was carrying over to Danny before he sat down in the neighboring armchair. “He’s just trying to claim you first, as if him and I didn’t find you together.”

“Hot chocolate, Red?” Dick asked while Danny was busy looking bewildered at that.

“Sure, but add some coffee to it?” Tim asked.

“No,” Dick replied far too cheerfully. “But seriously Dandelion, a Bat logo from a Bat means something.”

Danny’s face scrunched up at that and he looked down at himself. “I don’t think… he was trying to claim me?”

Babs snorted. “Oh, trust us, he was absolutely claiming you. He probably felt that he had to do something material to even start to compete with B.B., as if he wasn’t cooking for you all the time.”

Danny stared back at her with wide blue eyes. The open surprise and desperate want was odd to see on someone that looked so much like Bruce. Damian certainly never let himself appear that way.

“And Red is already souping up your tablet, I’m assuming— though if you really want an improvement let me see it,” she continued, talking over Tim’s little snort, “and N is making you the special hot chocolate. Even Signal is thinking what he can get you and Spoiler is whining that she hasn’t met you yet.”

“She is getting so annoying,” Tim whined while Danny stuffed the shredded marshmallow in his mouth, likely to get out of saying anything. He looked more than a little teary eyed. Tim gave him the out by continuing, “We’ll have her over one morning when she’ll be tired and easily distracted by waffles. You’re not up for the full Spoiler experience yet.”

“Trust Red on that,” Dick interjected as he stirred the coco, “he dated her.”

“I don’t know what either of us were thinking,” Tim said with a sigh. “We are both way too high maintenance in different ways for it to have worked.”

“You were still waiting for you bi awakening, baby bird, you were missing out on half the options,” Dick said. He dropped one of the oversized marshmallows in each of the four mugs before pouring the scalding hot chocolate over it.

Babs left him to his sorcery and wheeled over to the couch before working her way onto it. Danny helpfully moved the blanket out of the way and then offered it back after. She draped it carefully over her legs.

“So what did Red do to your tablet?”

“I actually didn’t do anything,” Tim said, and then had to pause. “Well, not after I gave it to Danny at least. I was just making sure everything was still good. Danny’s been tinkering with it.”

Danny gave a little shrug and picked at the edge of his hoodie.

“Do you like engineering then? Or inventing?” Babs asked, trying to encourage Danny to open up a little.

“Yeah, my— I—, I mean…” Danny stumbled over his words. He lost some of his color with each false start until he was worryingly grey. He swallowed thickly. “Yeah, I used to at least.”

“Danny, hot chocolate,” Dick said with impeccable timing as always.

Danny whispered a thanks and took the almost overflowing mug. He could basically hide behind the mound of whipped cream and he definitely tried to. Babs took the offered mug with a much more modest dollop but an absurd amount of bat sprinkles. Her lips twitched up in a smile as she took a sip.

Tim’s portion was somewhere in between Bab’s and Danny and of course Dick’s was practically laughable. It’s a wonder he didn’t make an absolute mess of himself drinking it as they argued over a movie to watch. It was clever of the Bats, really, they had started to narrow down how long Danny had been a test subject by what movies he had seen or not.

It was somewhere between seventeen and twenty-three months.

Nearly two years.

They were all lucky that Danny had made it out at all. They all knew the statistics of something like that.

Hot chocolate turned into dinner turned into Danny cuddling Dick on the couch and eventually resting against Bab’s legs. A good sign about her acceptance, according to the birds.

“Oracle?”

Babs had thought that Danny was asleep. She reached out to run the tips of her fingers through his hair. The lights from the movie that was still playing glinted off her pink nails. “Yes, Danny?”

“If I asked… would you be able to find someone for me?”

She tilted her head. “The person that I remind you of?”

“Yes. Just… just so that I know she’s okay.”

“Is she in danger?”

“No, she’s not like me. She’s…” Danny cut himself off, swallowing back the words.

“But you’d still like to know.”

“Yes.”

Babs hummed. It was technically an abuse of her powers, but they were something she abused all the time. “Yes, if you ask me to, I can find out if she’s okay.”

“Okay. I’ll… maybe I’ll ask. Thank you.”

“Of course, Danny.”

---

AN: I struggled with this chapter at first, but it was because I was jumping right to Barbara meeting Danny and not giving the others some more time to deal with the change in Danny. They still haven't really dealt with it, right now they're focused on healing and getting more help through Babs being around.

All our poor Bat's. So attached already and so traumatized.

But not as traumatized as Danny...

Stay delightful, darlings!

[teddypines]

Fight

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sumary: Dick and Batmom!reader got into a fight which upset both of them in the end.

Dick x Batmom!reader, Fem!reader (Use of she/her pronounce)

Note: Dick might be a bit out of character in this. Art/picture is from Pintrest, credits go to whoever made it.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“Get back here, Richard!” Y/N yelled as Dick stormed off towards his room. The two of them had been in a fight. Dick had gotten really hurt on a patrol, but refused to seek medical attention. This, of course, upsetting Y/N. Hating to see one of her birds hurt like this. Yes, Dick was the oldest. yes he was old enough to deal with things on his own, but not with injuries like this. "Richard! Don’t you dare walk away right now!” Y/N yelled after Dick as she walked up the stairs. 

Dick ignored Y/N as he continued to struggle with walking towards his room. “Richard Grayson!!” Y/N yelled out one last time before Dick turned around to face Y/N. “Stop it! i am fine! I don't need you to baby me!” Dick hissed at Y/N. He was tired and just wanted to go to bed, but no Y/N needed to be a worried mother hen. “Just let me sleep! I do not need to be patched up!”

“Dick have you looked into a mirror? You look like hell, you need medical attention. Those wounds will get infected.” Y/N answered while trying to reach out for Dick. “I don’t need that, now stop being so annoying and let me be”

“Dickie, come on, please you really need to clean those. I am your mother, let me help you” Y/N Said, her anger slowly fading more and more as she looked at the beaten up boy. Something snapped in Dick’s tired mind and he got furious. “You are not my mother! Stop acting like you are!” Dick didn’t realize what he had said, because he turned around too fast to see the upset look on Y/N’s face. “I… I’m sorry Dick, i’ll let you be.” She said before Dick slammed his bedroom door shut. 

Y/N turned around and slowly walked towards the master bedroom, tears rolling down her face as she crawled into bed. After a while Bruce joined her in bed and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong, love? Did something happen with Dick?” Bruce asked, but he didn’t get an answer. not until the next morning. Bruce understood Y/N didn’t want to talk about it just yet and just held her even closer to him.

<----------------------------------------------------------------------->

The next morning Y/N did come down for breakfast, but she was rather quiet. Not like her usual self, not telling Damian to not mess with his brothers or telling Jason to put his book down. Everyone noticed but Dick. He was still upset, but he did feel bad. Once he shut his door last night he realized what he had said and that broke him more than the wounds he had. Breakfast was quiet but not awkward. 

After breakfast Y/N just got ready for work and waved Damian and Tim goodbye as they went to school. She kissed Bruce’s cheek when he went to work. Dick looked on as Y/N did her normal routine, only feeling left out since they didn’t give him his hug.

“Mom?” Dick called out to Y/N, but she didn’t answer, too busy getting her bag ready. Dick carefully tapped Y/N’s shoulder which made her stop packing her bag. “Yes?” She answered a bit on the dry side. “Mom… I…” Dick started but he couldn’t find the right words. “It’s okay, Dick, you don’t have to call me mom if you don’t want to.” Y/N said, upsetting them both in the process. She gave Dick a sad smile before leaving for work. 

Dick sighs and gets ready for uni. “What was that?!” Jason asked shocked as he looked at Dick from the living room. He had a day off so he was going to do nothing all day, maybe bother Alfred a bit. “Nothing.” Dick answered his brother. “That was most definitely not nothing!” Jason gasped. “Oh my god, you and mom had a fight!”

“We did not have a fight,” Dick said as he shoved one of his books into his bag. “I just said something I regret…” Jason narrowed his eyes and glared at Dick. “What did you say?”

Dick groaned a bit when he stretched his arm the wrong way when grabbing another book to put in his bag. “I might have said that she wasn't my mom so she should stop acting like it” This made Jason gasp. “Yeah, I know, I screwed up...”

<---------------------------------------------------------------------->

A few days go by in which both Dick and Y/N are upset over what happened, everyone saw it. Dick did get some medical attention for his wounds but the sad smile Y/N wore that week hurt more than anything else. Dick sighed and started to make his way around the manor in search of Y/N. He eventually found her in the Batcave looking over some files and homework Damian did. He carefully sat down next to her at the Batcomputer. “Mom?” He said, which made Y/N turn her head towards Dick. “I’m sorry mom. I never meant to yell at you or say you’re not my mother. Because I do love you as my mom even with my own mom being, well not here… I was just so tired and patrol didn’t go well, and uni wasn’t great that day and… and.. I just don’t know anymore. But I don’t want you to be upset… That hurts…” Dick said through his tears.

Dick was surprised when he felt two arms around him. Y/N held Dick close to her. “I forgive you, sweetie, but please don’t ever say it again. It really hurts, when all I wanted to do was make sure you were taken care of. Maybe I shouldn't have yelled, though.” Y/N said as she slowly leaned back and started to whip Dick’s tears away with her thumb. She carefully leaned over and kissed Dick’s forehead. “I love you, Bluebird.”

“I love you too, ma”

[keyaho]

Shy!character x Rough Boyfriend Terry.

Reader isn't vocal like Terry wants her to be so he makes her beg for it .

Praise In Advance

summary: is this man a demon? he's rough, but controlled. blink and you'll miss it.

His hand, large and smoothed-with manicured fingernails, was pressed between her shoulder blades as he pushed her into the bed. Sweat dropped on her back from his body, his hips smacked against hers so hard the headboard bounced against the wall. If they had them, the neighbors would definitely know her name. His too, if only she would open up that pretty little mouth. 

He had already defiled it. He knew what it was capable of and yet, here she was, quiet as a church mouse. Terry smiled to himself, she was in fact a little church mouse. Dedicated to Sunday service every week. The floral dresses and wedges accentuated her long legs and full thighs. He watched her sway out the house every seventh day knowing he'd defile her garden as soon as he got home. A serpent in her pussy. 

"Nadia,' he still his hips as he leaned down, knowing she was delirious he licked the shell of her ear. "Tell me that shit feels good." 

Silence. 

The wetness between her legs continued to drip as she buried her face into the pillows. Such a holy offering. 

Not to be ignored, Terry leaned forward, pushing his dick deeper until his pelvis was pressed against her ass and she was smushed into the bed, unable to move as the tip of his dick, tickled her cervix. He spread his own legs, steadying himself on his knees with her body between them. He grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head up. The bed was a mess and the wet stain where she had drooled added to the mess. 

"I've heard you in church, mama,' he smacked, his hips slowly beginning to move. 

His strokes were long and deep, making sure all nine inches had a home in her temple. 

"Sing for me,' he asked, "let me hear that praise." 

He placed a hand on her hip, holding her in the position he desired as he rode her towards exaltation. Naked and wet, Nadia clenched her eyes shut as Terry had her by the hair, his grip tight as his dick filled her to the brim. She swung a hand back, hoping to push at his thick thighs, when he smack it away, then grabbed it and pinned it to her lower back, pushing upwards so her elbow bent.  

"Tell me what you want,' he growled, letting her go so suddenly that Nadia dropped to the bed, but that didn't stop him. "Open that mouth, PK." 

He felt her pussy clench around him, sucking him in as he tried to pull back. "She's talking to me,' he added. "She's loud too. Wet and gushy." 

Nadia whimpered. Through all of it she was still that little mousy soft spoken girl. She had a little embarrassment already. She thought her moans sounded terrible and would bit her lip to keep them in. Instead, Terry was trying to draw them out. 

"I need you to open that mouth, Nadia." He dropped both hands to her ass, watching them jiggle from the intense slap. 

"Oh shit,' she cooed, just loud enough he could hear. 

How fucked of him to fuck the preacher's kid every Sunday, smiling in her father's face when he joined them for dinner once a month, citing his work schedule as his reason for not stepping foot in the church he preached at. Lying around a mouthful of greens about his devotion to the Lord. Terry rolled his eyes and pulled out of Nadia before flipping her onto her back. He and Nadia knew the only doors opening on Sunday for him were her legs. 

Raw as he came into the world, he fisted his dick while rubbing the tip against her clit. Her sweet serene face twisted as she tried to swallow the sounds he could see getting stuck in her throat. 

Maybe it was the eye contact, the stern look in his eyes, his hands on her hips, the heaviness of his dick, but Nadia couldn't stay quiet longer. Terry thrust froward, sheathing himself in her alter. 

"Oh, Terry!" 

Finally. 

He grinned. "There's my little angel. Praise me, baby. Let me hear it." 

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites  @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove  @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo  @virgomess  @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz 

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch

Insertcatchynamerighthere writingsbytee pocketsizedpanther

[juniperskye]

Stick to What You Know.

Sneak peek: Reader is asked to join the BAU by none other than Director Cruz himself. She is a child psychologist and Cruz thought she would make a great asset; it would seem though that Agent Hotchner doesn’t agree.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) Reader

Angst

Word count: 3134

Guys...I feel like this is shit, I wrote it in like 3 hours soo…. it’s not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, implied age gap, some language, one use of y/n I think, Hotch is a DICK in this for a minute (SORRY), reader has children, talk of dissociative identity disorder (in reference to a case), canon case talk/info, mention of murder (in reference to a case), Reader in a child psychologist, reader is friends with Director Mateo Cruz, implied death of Haley. I think that’s all, let me know if I missed anything!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You were so late. You were thanking the lord that you knew Mateo well from having previously worked with him, otherwise your lateness would probably come across as a lack of seriousness or appreciation for the strings he had pulled to get you here. And of course, being lost in thought while simultaneously rushing through an unfamiliar building had you barreling into a handsome stranger…or maybe a handsome acquaintance.

“I am so sorry!” You’d hurried out.

His large hands steadied you with a gentle but firm grasp on your arms. Your eyes glance upward to meet his.

“No worries, are you alright?” He offered.

“I’m good thank you. Wait, you’re Aaron Hotchner, I’ve sat in on a few of your lectures at the university.”

“I am, and thank you, I hope you were able to take something from them.”  He blushed.

“I did, oh shoot sorry! I have to go; I am so late!” You said, speed walking away from him.

Aaron couldn’t help but watch as you walked away from him. And you couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was far more handsome up close.

After explaining your tardiness to Mateo, he led you to the sixth floor to officially meet your new team. The rest of them anyway.

“Mat, you told them I was joining right? I ran into Agent Hotchner, and he didn’t show any signs of recognition. And I told you I didn’t want to join a team who wasn’t ready and willing to have me.” You ranted.

“Yes I told him, you have nothing to worry about.” He lied. “You head down into the bullpen and meet the agents; I will go up and talk to Agent Hotchner.”

You nodded in agreement and made your way to Emily and Spencer.  You exchanged greetings, and Emily took you around to meet everyone else.

“Director Cruz, what can I do for you?” Hotch asked.

“I have a new recruit for you. She will be starting today.” Mateo gestured toward the window.

Aaron glanced out, finding the beautiful woman from this morning standing amongst his team. Morgan must’ve tried to charm her because she threw her head back in laughter with the most beautiful smile. Why her? Why did she have to be joining his team?

“Why didn’t I receive her file?”

“Truthfully Aaron, I didn’t have it together. She and I have worked together on some classified cases. But I have a file here with some of her info.  She specializes in child psychology which is something your team is lacking, I figured that she could work with your team on all of your child related cases, but then can occasionally consult with other teams should they need her expertise.” Mateo explained.

“Okay.”

It had been three months since then, and things had not been going well. You had gone on all but one case with the BAU since you’d started. Every single time, Aaron kept you at the local precincts, not allowing you out on any real field work – this was hindering your ability to do your job effectively. You needed to observe the unsub’s home and belongings and dumpsites etc. but he was denying you the opportunity.

The rest of the team had been nothing but welcoming, inviting you into their little family with open arms. None of them could have predicted that Hotch would ice you out the way he was.

Every time you offered a theory or statistic or any sort of information, Hotch shut you down. He would belittle you, constantly making you feel small, and he purposely called you agent instead of referring to you as doctor and well, why should today be any different.

You had been called out on a case and based on all the information the team had acquired so far, you had a pretty good working theory.

JJ, Spencer, and you had been sitting in the room the local precinct had designated as yours for the duration of the case.

“I have an idea…it’s a little out there but hear me out,” You started, your gaze shifting to JJ and Spencer, who both encouraged you to continue. “Okay, so some of the details in this case match, while others are all over the place, like the MO is essentially the same but some of the victims’ injuries show signs of hesitation where others show none, I know hotch mentioned multiple unsubs, but what if it is one unsub, with multiple personalities.”

“Like dissociative identity disorder. You know that would make a lot of sense considering people with DID tend to have highly varying alters or identities. They can range in race, gender, age which would explain why the murders have been so different, it would also explain why the comfort zone is so small.” Spencer validated you.

“See that’s what I was thinking too, they would want to stay close to home in the case that perhaps there was a switch in alter, that way they would be somewhere familiar and be able to return home…”

“That’s enough Agent!” Hotch’s voice boomed through the small room. “I have put up with this for far too long. You came in here unannounced and have continued to provide absolutely ridiculous theories that do nothing but waste our time and resources…”

“Hotch” JJ tried to calm him.

He lifted his hand to silence her before continuing, “You have continued to get in the way of my investigations again and again and I won’t have it anymore. Cruz spoke so highly of you and frankly I don’t see it. I’m sorry if I’m the first one to tell you this agent, but perhaps you should stick to what you know.” Hotch finished.

There was no way in hell that you were going to let yourself cry in front of this asshole. You refused to let him win in this moment.

“You know what Agent Hotchner, I have done nothing but work my ass off for this team and I have provided valuable feedback and information that has led to the capture of multiple unsubs over the last few months. But if you want to sit up there on your high horse and act all delusional, go ahead. I don’t want to be a part of a team who is led by someone so pompous and misogynistic. And one last thing, if you are going to sit there and berate me then you will address me properly. It’s Doctor, not agent…I know that may be hard to remember since it’s a title you don’t hold. Goodnight.” With that you grabbed your jacket and bag and made your way outside.

You ordered an uber and made your way back to the hotel. The nerve Hotch seemed to have filled you with rage, but you wouldn’t stick around to entertain his outburst any longer, you had a call to make.

“Hello?”

“Mat, I need a flight home.” You said, the tears finally beginning to fall.

“Is everything okay? What happened?” Mateo questioned.

“It’s fine, I just have a personal emergency and I need to get home as soon as possible.”

“Sure thing, I am booking your flight now, can you be at the airport in two hours?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

With that you hung up the phone, packed your bag, ordered another uber and made your way outside. You were purposely ignoring the texts coming in from Spencer and JJ. You made sure to slide a note under Spence’s door before leaving.

“Has anyone seen y/n this morning?” Dave asked.

“She left.” Spencer confirmed, holding up the note.

“What why? Is she okay?” Emily asked, concern laced in her tone.

“I can’t blame her. You guys should have seen it, Hotch yelled at her. And I mean full on yelled. I’ve never heard him speak that way to anyone before.” JJ chimed in.

“What are you talking about? He yelled at her. About what?” Morgan questioned.

“He completely flew off the handle. She and Spence were going over a theory about the unsub and he just started yelling, telling her that she was wasting our time and resources.”

The team was in disbelief, Hotch wasn’t mean or condescending, so why was he acting this way now? How could he treat arguably the sweetest member of the team so disrespectfully?

Dave shook his head; he was pretty sure he knew exactly why Aaron was acting out this way. He just couldn’t believe that Aaron had said such harsh things to the girl. His heart broke for her knowing that someone she idolized had been so awful to her, and for all the wrong reasons.

The team had wrapped up that case fairly quickly, you had been right, and the unsub turned out to be a nineteen-year-old male who had been struggling with dissociative identity disorder. Hotch had felt uneasy knowing that he had questioned your intelligence, despite you being an excellent agent.

Upon returning to the BAU, Dave was sure to confront Aaron about his inappropriate behavior.  Telling him that he couldn’t treat you terribly just because he couldn’t wrap his brain around the feelings for you he was refusing to acknowledge. Aaron had scoffed at him and told him that he didn’t have feelings for you, but Dave knew he was lying.

You had quite a different experience since returning. The first thing you did was cry, you let yourself release all the pent-up frustration you’d been holding onto since you had started at the BAU. Then, you texted Mat, letting him know that you needed to meet with him.

He was curious and waiting for answers, but he ultimately agreed and waited to ask all his questions until you were face to face.

“So, what’s up? This meeting request was so formal.” Mat laughed.

“I know and I am sorry I have been so vague about everything, but I am here to resign.”

Mat’s smile fell from his face immediately.

“What happened? Did something happen, because I promise you I have looked into the complaints filed against Agent Morgan and Ms. Garcia and I can assure you, they just have a strange friendship.” Mateo tried to explain.

“Mat, slow down! It isn’t like that. I just don’t think it is a good fit, there’s just too many differences between how I work and how the team operates. It’s okay really.” You tried to smile to really sell your lie.

“Well, I can’t help but be disappointed, I really thought that you would be a perfect fit for this team.” Mateo trailed off.

“I know and I am so sorry. I know you had to pull a ton of strings to get me here and I don’t want it to seem like I am not grateful because I can assure you, I am!”

“I know, and it’s alright! If it’s not a good fit then it’s not a good fit.” Mateo flashed you a sad smile.

A few weeks had passed since you had left the BAU, and truly, you had been doing well! You had spent some much-needed time with your family. You had reached out to a good friend of yours and inquired about a job teaching at the local university, which you were truly looking forward to. It had also meant that you would have a free summer to spend some quality time with your kids.

Tonight, you had one of your best friends over, your kids had grown up together and so you liked to do these big “family” dinners together at least once a month, that however meant chaos in the house. Kids yelling, teenagers gossiping, dinner burning…I guess that means you’ll be ordering a pizza.

Your friend and you had been talking about your new job and the excitement you were feeling for it, a movie long forgotten playing in the background, the kids were playing some card game you didn’t recognize when the doorbell rang.

“Oh, I bet that’s the pizza!” You said, making your way to the door.

“I left the cash on the table there!” Your friend shouted.

“Hi…Oh. What the hell are you doing here?” Shock painted its way across your face. Standing at your door was not the pizza delivery guy, but Aaron Hotchner.

“I uh, I came here to talk to you. I know that I do not deserve your time, but I am truly hoping you’ll allow me a few minutes to explain myself.”

“Dude, do you need help or…oh, shit. Sorry! Did you guys need a minute?” Your friend interrupted.

“Um” your gaze shifted from Aaron to your friend. “Agent Hotchner, why don’t we go to the back. Can you keep an eye out for the pizza?” You suggested.

“Of course! You go.” She replied.

Aaron and you made your way to the backyard, in doing so he took note of all the children sitting in the living room, sprawled out across the floor and couches.

“I didn’t know you had children.” Aaron started.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Is that why you came here agent Hotchner? To see my home and profile me?” You questioned him.

“No of course not! I was making an observation. I’m sorry. Like I said, I am here to explain my behavior, none of which will excuse how I acted but I am hoping it might help you to understand some of it.” His gaze shifted around your face. “From the moment I first laid my eyes on you, I knew I was ruined. You were breathtaking, even when you plowed right into me in your rush to the director’s office. You bumped into me and God, then you looked up at me with those big, beautiful eyes and I was a goner. But then you said something to me, and I knew I was done for. Do you remember what you said?”

“I apologized and then I told you I’d gone to some of your lectures. Hold on Agent Hotchner are you saying you were horrible to me because you had a crush on me? What are we? Seven-year-olds on the playground! That is such bullshi….” He didn’t let you finish.

“Hold on. You did mention that you had been to my lectures, but it was what you said as you walked away that had me hooked…you said, “he’s far more handsome up close” and I don’t think you meant to say it out loud, but at that moment I told myself that I was ready. I was ready to move on and I was going to ask you out later that day, but then you walked into the bullpen and Cruz said you’d be a part of the BAU, and I knew it wouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t date my subordinate and I didn’t know what to do, you had called me handsome and I…”

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t mean to say that out loud and this still isn’t…”

“I’m not finished. You had some sort of attraction for me even if it was just an appreciation for my looks. I already had it bad for you, and to top it all off, you came in and just had to be the sweetest, most loving person in the BAU and I couldn’t have you. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I figured the easiest thing to do would be to make you hate me, then I’d be able to shake these feelings for you, but no. You continued to be kind to me, even if I was awful to you and I couldn’t take it. My breaking point was the look on your face after I yelled at you on that last case. I felt sick with myself. I couldn’t leave things like that; I needed you to know that I don’t think those things. You are an incredible agent and an even better person and I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” Aaron finished, looking down at his shoes.

You were speechless. While it felt amazing that the man you had harbored feelings for, returned your feelings. It also felt terrible that he wasn’t mature enough to just be upfront with you from the beginning. Instead, he felt the need to play some arduous game with you. It would be so easy to just throw yourself into his embrace and kiss him and call it all forgotten, but what if this is some insight into his communication skills, or lack thereof?

Your mind and heart were battling one another like an angel and devil on your shoulder. It was a back-and-forth quarrel that seemingly had no correct response, both had the same potential outcomes; you getting your heart broken, regret, potential happiness. What were you meant to do?

“I um, I don’t know what to say. You said some horrible things to me and that doesn’t just go away. Agent Hotchner, we’re adults.”

“Please call me Aaron, or at least Hotch.”

“Aaron we are adults and you acted like a child. Am I meant to just forgive and forget the way you made me feel?”

“No, I would never expect that. I do hope that one day you can forgive me, and if you give me the chance, I would truly love to make it up to you.” He explained.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He questioned.

“Okay, you can make it up to me. And maybe, just maybe I will forgive you. It’s not going to be easy though.” You said.

“I wouldn’t want it to be easy.” He smiled.

“Alright well you can start tomorrow. I’d invite you to stay but this is a family dinner and with all the kids it might be a bit chaotic.” You told him.

“That’s fair.”

You could see the wheels turning in his head, he’s trying to figure out the dynamics of your little family, and maybe you could spare him a little bit of leeway.

“Her and I combined have nine kids. I have five and she has four. And before you ask, only two are biologically mine. A close friend of ours passed and I was listed as the personal guardian for her kids. That’s also how I have a teenager.” You explained. “That’s all you get for now.” You teased.

“I will take what I can get. Thank you, for giving me this chance.” Aaron smiled at you.

You smiled back and led him to the door, not missing the shit-eating grin your friend was wearing on her face. You bid him goodnight with a promise to text him to make some sort of plan. You didn’t know what would come of this, or if you’d end up together, but for now, you didn’t need to know. For now, you’d take it one day at a time.

[rubydubydoo122]

I've seen a lot of discourse about who the angry Robin was, but like... why do we have to define the Robins in terms of that?

Dick's Robin embodied Light. He was the Foil to Batman's Darkness. His story is meant to parallel Bruce's and it's because of the reason he became Robin in the first place. He became Robin, not to avenge his parents- he didn't want to kill Tony Zucco. He became Robin in a very similar way that Jason became the Red Hood; To make sure it doesn't happen to anyone again.

Jason's Robin embodied Hope. He was a character who was given opportunities and he made the best of them. He was given a home, and a family, and education and he loved it all because at some point he could only hope to have those things. It gave him the outlook of 'If things could get better for me, than things can get better for other people, if I do what I can help them.' To Jason, Robin meant giving people hope, and that's why Jason was deeply affected by Gloria Stanson's death. She had lost hope.

Tim's Robin embodied Determination. No matter how many times he was rejected by Bruce, he still stood by his side. No matter how many of his family and friends died, he still kept fighting. No matter how hard he was beat, he still got up.

Stephanie's Robin didn't have a long run, and I sadly don't really know how to quantify her Robin. Maybe spite, I feel like. Because she became Spoiler to stop her dad, and be like 'haha, L' and also because she became Robin after her and Tim broke up. Idk, if any of you have a better idea pls tell me

Damian's Robin embodied redemption. You can tell from the beginning of his run, to current comics how much he has grown and changed. When he was younger, he didn't really understand how the LOA morals were wrong, but then he learned, and he's constantly trying to move away from that and lead with more compassion in his own Damian way.

Duke's Robin embodied the people. He was what they needed at the time. I don't really know much about his Robin either, so pls lmk if it's not that.

[bxyp]

GENERAL RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS / Jujutsu Kaisen | 呪術廻戦

SYNOPSIS. General descriptions of the characters if they were in a relationship.

「 SFW + NSFW 」 separated for two parts.

SFW > safe for work; does not contain any sexual content and/or violence.

NSFW > not safe for work; contain sexual content and/or violence.

WARNING/S. GENDER NEUTRAL READER. violence, death (mention), sex, blowjob, oral sex, oral giving (reader), exhibitionism (technically), mutual masturbation, male organs mentioned (cock, dick and etc.).

CHARACTER/S. > Itadori Yuji, Maki Zen'in, Ryomen Sukuna, Toji Fushiguro, Uraume.

W.C. > 1.4k

𝙁𝙀𝙈 𝘿𝙉𝙄 & 𝙈𝘿𝙉𝙄 | 𝘽𝙀 𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙀𝙁𝙐𝙇 18+ 𝙐𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝘾𝙐𝙏

Itadori Yuji | 虎杖悠仁

「 SFW 」 PRE SHIBUYA ARC | Yuji would undoubtedly rank among the epitomes of an ideal boyfriend. Cute, cheerful and optimistic—a perfect boyfriend. With his extroverted nature, you will have to deal with his bursts of energy as well as times when he will be particularly affectionate. Picture him as the embodiment of a loyal golden retriever—a true 'puppy boyfriend' in every sense. While Yuji's extroverted tendencies may manifest in bursts of lively enthusiasm, he also possesses moments of profound tenderness, enveloping his partner in warmth and affection. He gracefully inspires his partner to emerge from their cocoon, gently coaxing them towards a world of shared joy and adventures.

POST SHIBUYA ARC | Yuji carries the weight of profound loss, having witnessed the death of numerous friends. Scarred by these harrowing experiences, his instinctive reaction is to protect those he cares about. Consequently, he may inadvertently resort to pushing away those closest to him—a misguided attempt rooted in love and a genuine desire to protect. So you would need some time to reasure him that you aren't leaving any time soon…

Maki Zen'in | 禪院真希

「 SFW 」 PRE SHIBUYA ARC | Maki personifies resilience, bearing the burden of her own burdens and shouldering everything with unwavering strength. Yet beneath her reserved façade lies a heart that beats with deep care, though she may be hesitant to admit it openly. For your sake, Maki tries to break down the barriers she has carefully erected, which is a testament to the depth of her affection. Gently showing vulnerability. Every crack in her steely resolve serves as a testament to the strength of her affection, a silent plea for understanding and from you acceptance.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Maki finds herself haunted by the tragic loss of her twin sister, a wound that cuts deep into her heart and soul. Determined to shield herself from further heartache, Maki naturally avoids getting too close to people emotionally. She puts up strong walls around herself, using them like a shield to stop herself from the sorrowful of potential loss. She is trying to push you away, fearing that the death may once again claim the person she holds most dear.

Ryomen Sukuna | 両面宿儺

「 SFW 」 PRE CULLING GAME ARC | Beware of the King of Curses, because kindness is generally rare in his heart. Sukuna, with his menacing appearance and chilling aura, is not one to easily succumb to the tender embrace of romance. In his world, love is a foreign concept, a concept he has never shared or felt the need to develop. If Sukuna feels attracted to you in a way that is beyond his understanding, don't expect his true emotions to be revealed quickly. Love, with all its complexities and vulnerabilities, is uncharted territory for him. He is a mystery, shrouded in frost, his heart covered in layers of impenetrable ice. Patience becomes your greatest ally in unraveling the enigma that is Sukuna. With each step forward, you tread cautiously, mindful of the thorns that line the path to his heart.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Even if Sukuna is wary of his newfound emotions, don't expect him to give you special treatment just because you've captured his interest. Sukuna is not sentimental and does not provide frivolous favors. He demands proof of your worth, demanding that you demonstrate your character and earn his respect through your actions. His admiration is a hard-won treasure bestowed upon those who prove themselves capable of navigating the treacherous.

「 NSFW 」 THE HEIAN ERA | Sukuna is definitely not an easy lover. He will squeeze the maximum out of you. Using your body, sometimes even without your consent, because in his understanding, at the moment when you gave him your heart, you also gave him your whole body, letting him do any indecency. He is not a pervert and prefer to do things the old and simple way. Although sometimes he asks Uraume to stretch you, since Sukuna’s cocks are also bigger than usual, so careful preparation is required so that you are not simply torn in a halves. There is hardly any tenderness in this process. Most often, this is just an impulse in which he can fulfill exclusively his desires, literally grinding into you until he himself is satisfied. So expect long nights since he got stamina and a lot of stress to take out (on you).

(yes, I'm a believer that Sukuna got two dicks, don't blame me for that.)

Toji Fushiguro | 伏黒甚爾

「 SFW 」 DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | Toji is plagued by deep-seated commitment issues, a restless wanderer who flits from one fleeting romance to another with reckless abandon. His primary focus lies in material gain, money, with little regard for the emotional entanglements that accompany lasting relationships. For him, love is but a passing fancy. However, amidst his nomadic lifestyle, there exists a rare exception—a woman (Megumi's mother) who once managed to capture his fleeting attention. Though elusive, the memory of her lingers in the recesses of his mind, a testament to the possibility of a deeper connection.

DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | It's going to take a lot of time and thinking for him to figure out his feelings and realize that he wants things that aren't just about money or quick fun. He needs to face his fears and doubts, and think about the idea that maybe, just maybe, life is about more than just work as a mercenary or have fun for a short time.

「 NSFW 」 DURING HIDDEN INVENTORY ARC | Toji is a selfish lover, always putting his own desires first when it comes to being close with someone. He's used to getting what he wants whenever he wants it, and he doesn't feel bad about going after what feels good. His needs come first because he's spent his life focused on pleasing himself and getting things right away. Underneath that self-centered exterior, there's a lot going on. Even though he's all about his own pleasure, he's got a way of being gentle yet strong when he's with someone intimately. His touch leaves a lasting impression on the person he's with. He can gently stroke your hair while your lips are at the base of his dick. If you have difficulty breathing, maybe stop and not fist your hair in his hand, using your throat for his pleasure, while you drolling all over his cock…

Uraume | 裏梅

「 SFW 」 PRE CULLING GAME ARC | Uraume is an embodiment of unwavering loyalty, their existence intricately intertwined with the service and devotion to their master, a bond forged over countless centuries. For them, love was a foreign concept, relegated to the annals of distant memory as they dutifully fulfilled their role. When feelings of attraction begin to stir within Uraume, they find themselves grappling with emotions long dormant, their heart encased in the frost of ages past. The idea of love is a foreign and unfamiliar terrain.

DURING CULLING GAME ARC | As Uraume's feelings blossom into an undeniable force, they find themselves faced with a daunting decision—to confront their master and seek permission to pursue the depths of their newfound love. This is no small feat, for their allegiance to their master is unwavering, and the prospect of disobeying even a perceived slight is unthinkable. In their plea, Uraume makes it clear that they hold their master's wishes above all else, and they would never dare to act in defiance of their authority. Yet, they cannot deny the overwhelming pull of their emotions, and they humbly request the opportunity to pursue love while remaining ever faithful to their master's will.

「 NSFW 」 DURING CULLING GAME ARC | Urauma's devotion does not end with their master's permission to love. They would definitely ask permission to have a more personal relationship with you. Also, if the King of Curses told Urauma to give your body to him for pleasure, Urauma would take it as an incredible compliment since even their master liked your body. But besides this, Uraume isn't so cold in terms of sex life; they pay more attention to your pleasure than to their own. Usually your sexual contact involves mutual masturbation, for Uraume this is quite personal. Since for them, their body is like a temple and letting another person in is quite difficult for them.. Their movements are careful but quite demanding, not devoid of feelings.

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𝔇𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔰𝔱𝔶𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯?

[spectralreplica]

Uhhhhhhhh Sburb AU!! This was more of an excuse to classpect and make sprites, so don’t ask me questions about plot details because I put like zero thought into it. Tsumugi probably had something to do with setting up the session, and she’s hiding her real title and the fact it’s not her first session. Baby Kiibo is a robot baby because I thought that was the funniest option.

Drawing with anti-aliasing off really brings me back...

Classpect thoughts under the cut if you really want:

Immediate caveat: I mention speculative stuff here like unconfirmed active/passive class pairs and inversion theory. If you don’t like those things or otherwise disagree with the titles I gave people that’s fine but just know I’m not super interested in debating about it and won’t reply.

So, to start out with I wanted to make the 8 of them a session, so I needed no overlaps in class or aspect and one Time + one Space. I also wanted to have Kaito and Kokichi as opposing aspects. In general, I think of a Title as kind of the end of your assigned character arc, so depending on your level of maturity/introspection at the start, it can seem either really obvious or really unintuitive. I tried to base them off of the hypothetical chapter 6/survivor versions of characters, since those (plus maybe the chapter 5 deaths) of the ones that get a full arc in DR canon.

Immediately Tsumugi seemed like a deadringer for Space, not so much because of the literal physics-related stuff but because of its associations with creation/narratives and setting things up for other people to act. I made her Sylph of Space here, but that's a facade. She's actually a Muse of Space who participated in past session(s) and wants to watch how things play out.

Based on the Extended Zodiac description, Kaito or Kaede has to be time, but Kokichi CANNOT be Space by any stretch of the imagination. I made her Heir of Time with the interpretation of Heir as someone who invites change/influences of/through their aspect. Time is also associated with music and death, which is both fitting and a little mean. (I can also see Kaede as Breath outside of having to have someone be Time.)

So moving onto Kaito and Kokichi, I was considering Hope vs Rage (belief vs doubt, possibility vs restrictions), but 1) Rage is defined partially by hatred of lies despite otherwise sounding Kokichi-ish (that alone could be interesting, with the possibility of a negative/reverse title or else giving him Hope and Kaito Rage for the unexpected swerve........) 2) I really wanted to give Hope to Kiibo. So instead I went with Heart and Mind (emotion vs logic, intuition vs planning, identity/motivation vs action/decisiveness).

Kokichi is Thief of Mind for taking away other people's decisions for his own purposes but also for generally "stealing" things (e.g., the Mastermind Role, narrative importance in general, along with literal items) through his own cleverness. Vs Kaito, a Knight of Heart, who uses his constructed identity as a weapon to face challenges. I'm also a fan of inversion theory, so I think at low points they'd both trend towards Page of Heart (grows powerful late in the narrative based on his own ego/identity) and Rogue of Mind (taking choices/agency/logic away from people for their own good), respectively.

I always wanted Kiibo to be Hope since 1) Ult. Hope Robot 2) big on possibilities/faith but can be a little self-centered. I went with Bard at least partially to make a "guess we know whether he has a dick or not now!" joke, but I also think "inviting destruction through Hope, inviting destruction of (false) hope" is pretty spot on for chapter 6 Kiibo. Like, as the camera/audience surrogate, he's been forced into passively leading the others to despair, not to mention how the audience takes him over to destroy the hope of ending the show. But Kiibo ends up reversing this and helping destroy the audience's faith in Danganronpa, destroying the whole academy in accordance with the vote. (Sidenote: I wonder if Kiibo gets taken over by Horrorterrors and goes grimdark? Or if he's just really, really susceptible to orders from his Exile)

Shuichi, Page of Void, was another one that immediately came to mind. Like, "starts off weak but becomes really strong/important by the end" is Shuichi's thing! Also, counterpart to Kaito's Knight. And Void is all about secrets, mystery, etc. From the Extended Zodiac: "Where others might be compelled to go out and seek answers, the Void-bound lean more toward casting doubt on what is already considered understood. They don't take much on faith and would rather live in a state of confusion- than believe something that might be untrue or bow to intellectual authority... At their best, Void-bound are wise, intuitive, and vibrant. At their worst, they can be dismissive, indecisive and apathetic." 

I had considering Light, for seeking out knowledge/truth, but Shuichi's character arc ends on "fuck you, I refuse to play. You all get nothing more from us" and learning to live with ambiguity, so I think he's way more Void. But, again, inversion would be Thief of Light, so selfishly taking away knowledge/importance from others.

Speaking of Light, I made Miu Mage of Light. Mage is like, active Seer, seeking out knowledge for yourself (vs advising others) and Light is luck, knowledge, and also importance/plot relevance. As an inventor, Miu keeps innovating and figuring things out, plus she's very motivated by her own importance to the world. She wants to be seen more than anything else and loves being smarter than those around her. Also: "At their best, the Light-bound are resourceful and driven. At their worst they can be fussy, pedantic, and insensitive." Inversion is Heir of Void, so "inviting change via hiding things" or "changing what's kept secret", which suits Miu when plotting murder.

Finally, Maki is Prince of Blood. Blood is trust, bonds, relationships, stubbornness, duty, obligation (vs freedom, change, choices) so "someone who breaks bonds/destroys relationships" but also "someone who destroys using/motivated by duty/relationships". Like, Maki is inherently a fracture point in the group because of her talent and then directly breaks the group apart and sabotages her relationships with the others in chapter 5, but also she's deeply motivated by her bonds to others in all of her destructive actions (protectiveness for orphanage/friend, love for Kaito). This sound super negative, but I think this is also the Maki who commits to destroying the institution of Danganronpa in chapter 6. Sometimes you have to be decisive and cut bad relationships out of your life.

Inversion would be Sylph of Breath, so "healing via change" or "encouraging growth towards freedom", which you can argue is sort of the way Kaito wants her to go? But she just doesn't. Idk, for better or worse, I think Maki is very aware of who she is and how people related to her, so even at her worst she's true to herself, vs, say, Kaito or Kokichi, who act "ooc".

[slut4hee]

P*$$Y FAIRYꕥ

“Pussy fairy on the way”

{Pairing: Virgin College Student Jay x Blk Succubus Fem! Reader

{Synopsis: Jay didn’t take his best friend’s words seriously when he said “if you write your name on a piece of paper and leave a sample of your blood on it, a sex demon will come and fuck you that same night” So you come and show him that succubus are far from being a myth.

{Genre: smut, supernatural themes, Jay is a bit of an a introvert, Jake as his best friend, reader doesn’t kill her victims she just puts them in a deep sleep afterwards, 18+ so mdni!!!

{Warnings: loss of virginity, rough sex, oral (m receiving), overstimulation, Jay is a big sub in this sorry not sorry, big dick Jay, creampie, cum eating, marking, pet names, demons and angels mentioned, reader is kinda a menace, reader is described to be a thick brown skin fem with a curvy waist and a big butt don’t like it don’t read, reader has sensitivity in her wings basically another g-spot.

It’s Saturday evening and Jay is doing what he usually does on his weekends, which is play video games with his best friend Jake and eat a bunch of junk food. Jay has never been the type to go out and party on the weekends, instead he prefers to be in the comfort of his own home hidden away from the outside world. Unlike Jake who is guaranteed to be seen at every frat party hosted to mankind.

ミ★

Jay rolls his eyes at his best friend’s loud obnoxious laughter that fills his headset, he curses under his breath when his character dies for the 20th time.

“Dude you really fucking suck at this game you know that right?” Jake says in a mocking playful tone.

“Shut the fuck up bro, I got a new keyboard I gotta break it in” Jay defends himself taking a big sip of his cherry cola.

Jay goes to start up another game when suddenly he hears Jake’s phone ping continuously with notifications causing him to groan in annoyance at the sound.

“Dude could you please silence that shit, it’s driving me insane” he rolls his eyes once again as he starts shooting down enemies paying attention to the game on the big monitor screen.

“You’re just not used to hearing any notifications come through your phone because you got no bitches on your dick” Jake says sarcastically and in a fit of laughter.

“Haha very hilarious Jake” Jay bites back with a tinge of annoyance.

“Seriously Park, don’t you think it’s about time you bone something I mean dude you’re 22 years old” Jake says half joking as he shoots down another enemy.

“I mean it’s not like I haven’t thought about it, it’s like every time I get past the first stage and get the girl to my apartment and I tell her I’m a virgin next minute she’s storming out the door with disappointment” Jay said a little bit embarrassed scratching the back of his neck.

“That’s the problem bro, don’t tell them you’re a virgin of course they’re going to kick your ass to the curb“ Jake snorts and curses under his breath when the enemy’s sniper takes him down.

“Fuck no, and make them think I’m a bad fuck I rather keep whacking my shit myself” Jay said with a tinge of sarcasm leaning back in his chair to stretch his limps.

“First of all didn’t need to know that, 2nd of all I mean there’s always sex workers that’s more than willing” Jake said wiggling his eyebrows up and down at the video camera and chuckling.

“Yeah no, I’m not that desperate asshole I won’t stoop that low” Jay rolls his eyes at his friends crazy suggestion.

“How about you summon the Pussy Fairy maybe she could help you out” Jake laughs out loud logging off the game as he starts scrolling on his phone probably checking his notifications that was going off nonstop.

“Bro what are you even saying, there’s absolutely no such thing as a Pussy Fairy where did you even get that shit from?” Jay snickers and questions his best friend I mean who the fuck would believe in such crazy myth.

“Well you know my roommate Heeseung right? Well apparently there’s some type of ritual he did when he was virgin and a sex witch bitch came and fucked the living hell out of him, his words not mines” Jake shrugged his shoulders spinning around in his gaming chair.

“Bro well guess what, Heeseung is full of shit because there’s no such thing as witches and warlocks let alone a sex witch” Jay spits out chuckling to himself and shaking his head.

“Well supposedly all he did was light some candles form them in a circle, and then he got a piece of paper wrote his name on it and put a sample of his blood on it and chanted something five times along the lines of come to me, my body is yours, yours to feed, yours to want, and yours to fuck. Oh wait he also described what type of race, body type and personality he wants his sex fairy to be�� Jake nods as he stands up grabbing his phone taking it with him to the kitchen.

“So you mean to tell me if I go full on Bonnie Bennett, a sex demon is gonna come and strip me of my virginity?! You gotta be kidding me Sim” Jay said not really believing anything his friend is saying, he’s never been the type to believe in supernatural stuff, let alone demons and angels.

“Look, I don’t know if what he was saying was true but all I know is the day he told me he was gonna do it, he woke up with scratches and bite marks on his chest and neck, and to top it off he slept for hours dude” Jake said taking a hand full of chips and popping them in his mouth smacking loud and obnoxious.

Jay cringes at the sound of his smacking “You got got proof? If so then I might just believe you” Jay said finding himself a lot more curious about this whole thing then he usually gets when something intrigues him.

“In fact I do” Jake hurries and presses on Heeseung’s contact to pull up their messages, he saves the pictures that Heeseung took of his body and sends it to Jays phone.

“Attachment Sent*

“Did you get it” Jake asks impatiently as he takes another handful of chips in his mouth.

Jay’s breath gets caught in his throat when he sees the bitemarks and scratches on Heeseungs body. He zooms in on the bitemarks on his neck and it looks like whatever or whoever did this to him had to have some pretty sharp teeth. This can’t be real right it has to be photoshopped right? RIGHT?!

“Fuck man, it looks like Dracula got to him look at shape of the teeth marks” Jay said in disbelief still staring at the pictures.

“Well you go ahead and play detective, I’m gonna go and meet my hot date I’ll catch ya later bro” before Jay can protest Jake hangs up the phone leaving Jay in his thoughts.

ミ★

The rest of the evening Jay finds himself replaying Jake’s words and the pictures of Heeseung in his head. He wonders if he truly was able to summon a sex demon and have the best fuck of his life. He sits up in his bed, smacking on his face telling himself to snap out of it but nothing seems to calm his racing thoughts on whether this theory is true.

“Oh what am I even thinking right now, it’s obviously a big joke there’s no such things as witches and sex demons I really gotta be out of my mind I almost fell for that shit” Jay said out loud to himself trying to convince himself to stop thinking about it.

But he can’t stop thinking about it, in fact he’s even stop trying to tell himself not to think about it and that’s how he finds himself digging through his apartment storage closet trying to find any spare candles he might have and to his luck he finds 4 candles. He grabs his notebook ripping a blank white page from it, he grabs his case of supplies and pulls out a paper clip.

As he starts to form the candles, he recalls Jake’s words saying his roommate formed them in a circle so he does just that. He jogs to the kitchen opening his cabinet to find his matches pulling them out. He brings the matches over to the circle and signs to himself when he slides the match against the scratchy back of the box causing the match to ignite. He leans down to light the candles one by one, the glow from the flame illuminating his face and the heat of it causing his forehead to start sweating.

“Well here goes nothing, I guess I should probably clear my web browser and lock my account since I possibly might die tonight” he said out loud to himself again. “Psst who am I kidding, of course this isn’t going to work I’m just going to do this stupid ritual to prove to Jake that Heeseung story he made up is bunch of bullshit” at this point he’s full on talking to himself, trying to calm his nerves and the anxiety that’s building up in his body. He grabs a pen from his desk and places the piece of paper on the floor leaning his body as he starts to write on the paper.

Jay would never probably come out openly and say this but he has a big attraction to Black women. As a Korean man growing up with Korean parents he was always taught to not date outside of his race but that didn’t stop Jay from secretly crushing on Black girls from afar.

His browser history consists of ebony porn and his hidden gallery is full of nude pictures of his favorite Black pornstars. Jay remembers the first time he felt an attraction to a Black female. It was in the 8th grade, Jay had a huge crush on a girl named Brianna Jones.

Brianna was Jays first love and also first kiss but due to fear of his disappointing his parents he broke up with her, shattering his and hers heart. So that’s how Jay finds himself writing down a description of a Black female with beautiful brown skin, curvy hips with a nice big ass, big tits, and a dominate personality.

As he finishes writing on the paper, he takes the paper clip and pricks his index finger hissing at the light sting. He lets some of the blood drip onto his name and some on the description of his sex demon.

Jay takes a deep breath as he sits inside the circle, he starts to say the same exact chanting words that Heeseung said, still not fully convinced as the words roll off his tongue nonchalantly. He lets the words fall from his mouth for the 5th time and suddenly the candles that were once lit suddenly blew out leaving his living room pitch dark.

Jay looks around frantically starting to freak out and that’s when he starts to feel dizzy like he’s going to pass out. Jay struggles to stand up stumbling backwards as he starts to lose consciousness and then boom everything goes black and he’s out like a light.

ミ★

When Jay regains consciousness, he feels his head pounding and his ears ringing. He groans rubbing his head looking around his room puzzled and then it hits him, how did he end up in his room when the last time he remembered he was in his living room.

Jay looks down to see that he’s half naked, shirtless with only his boxers on. Jay can then feel this eerie feeling floating around his room almost like he’s not alone, like he’s being watched and that’s when he hears a soft giggle echoe around his room sounding far but yet so close and chills run down his spine.

“W-Who’s there?” Jay lets out a shaky breath looking around his room helplessly and that’s when he sees a dark mist surrounding his bed. The only thought left in his head is fight or flight, he decides on flight as he jumps up from his bed trying to get away and suddenly he’s being pushed back down onto his bed.

His eyes widened when a figure appears in front of him, straddling his lap. Jay gulps when he takes in the sight of you, clad in purple lingerie showing off all your curves, your beautiful brown skin has a glow radiating from it, and your cleavage is spilling out of your bra.

“What’s wrong pretty boy, cat got your tongue?” Your lips curl up into a wicked smile as you run your fingertips slowly down his chest stopping at the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxers.

“W-Where did you come from and who are you?” Jay manages to spit out shaky, anxiety and arousal building up all at once from the pressure of your body on top of his.

“The name’s Y/n, and you summoned me here naughty boy” you giggle playfully, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth when your hands meets his growing bulge gently palming him through his boxers.

Jay’s body shudders and his hips bucks up unintentionally as he feels your soft hand palming his half erect cock.“i don’t know what you mean i-i didn’t summon you fuck! I- please” jay says breathlessly trying to keep his composure and that’s when it all comes together.

As he takes time to get a good look at you. He scans your face and body and it all makes sense to him now. You look exactly how he wrote you, your thick juicy thighs covering his, your voluptuous breast sitting pretty on your chest and your dominant nature is causing him to feel weak in the knees and his erection to grow harder.

“Finally figured out huh there baby boy? You didn’t think us succubus were real didn’t you?” You coo at his shocked facial expression causing you to clench around nothing. Virgins were your favorite ones to prey on, always so pathetic and eager.

“So here’s how this is going to work Park Jongseong, you’re going to give me as much semen as I want, while in return I take away your pathetic little virginity got it?” You lean down to look him in the eyes meeting his intense gaze feeling your arousal starting to leak through your purple thong.

“P-Please touch me I’ll do whatever you want me to do just please make me feel good” Jay whimpers when he feels your wet muscle licking the shell of his earlobe. His cock twitches in the confines of his boxers begging to be released.

“Mmm looks like someone is eager aren’t you baby boy, don’t worry mommy’s going to take such good care of you” You smirk as you slide your body down his to reach his clothed bulge. You yank his boxers down causing his thick girthy dick to spring out, hitting his abdomen smearing precum over it.

“Fuck baby, what a huge cock you have mhm mommy going to have so much fun with this, I can tell your balls are full of your delicious creamy milk and I’m willing to take it all” you start to leave kitty licks on his angry red tip that leaks continuously with his clear essence. Jays body jerks violently from the feeling of your warm wet tongue on his sensitive tip.

“Ngh! Fuck mommy feels so good keep going” he grips your hair into a makeshift ponytail guiding your movements, you bob your head up and down hollowing your cheeks taking more of his length down your little throat.

You can feel his thick cock pulsating with pleasure as you continue to deep throat as much of his length as you can, you stroke whatever rest of him you can’t fit in your mouth causing him to let out deep groans and mostly high pitched whiny moans. Drool and his pre cum drips down your chin as you continue to suck him sloppy.

“Fuck fuck fuck that’s it- nghhhh I’m gonna cum I’m gonna-“ you now focus on sucking hard on his red leaky tip, as his cock twitches uncontrollably. you can feel his body heating up and hips bucks up unintentionally causing his length to slide deep down your throat.

Before you know it, he releases his creamy essence down your throat, completely emptying his load into your mouth, as if your mouth was a dumpster but that’s what you are his little cum dump.

“Fuuckkk” Jay curses loudly when you continue sucking him, helping him prolong his climax. His chest heaves up and down as he tries to catch his breath. Already feeling drained from the hardest orgasm he’s ever had in his life, Jay understands now why his friends said a blowjob is the best way to blow your load, and they’re totally right because his hand couldn’t compare to your beast of a mouth.

“Don’t pass out on me just yet pretty boy we haven’t even got to the best part yet” you pout and coo at his fucked out expression, he’s so pathetic for feeling worn out from a little ole blowjob but that only makes you more excited to drain his body of it’s energy and ride him until the next morning.

You stand up from the bed as you start to strip out of your clothing, you decide to give him a little show as you slide the thin straps of your purple nightgown down your shoulders in the most seductive way. Jay stares at you with an intense expression full of lust and affection causing your parties to grow wetter.

You let the gown fall to floor leaving your chest bare to his eyes, you slowly shimmy out of your panties being completely naked now. You crawl back up onto the bed seductively until you’re straddling his lap again. You can feel his hard on poking your wet dripping core, you let out a whimper when you start to ground your warm wet pussy on his thick cock. Jay throws his head back as he lets out deep groans feeling your hot arousal where he needs you the most.

“Fuck Jay your cock is so hard, does mommy pussy feel good teasing your pathetic huge dick” you let out loud moans when his tip rubs against your clit causing your body to shudder violently.

“Oh my god mommy yes feels so good, please let me put it in, fuck wanna be inside your tight pussy” Jay bucks up his hips to meet your grinding ones causing you to let out a whimper. When his tip prods at your dripping hole, growing impatient to feel his thick cock inside your guts you finally rise your hips up as you start to slowly sink down on his throbbing length.

The stretch is overwhelming being that Jay is the biggest cock you ever taken. You can feel his cock filling your gummy walls whole, causing your insides to clench violently. On the other hand Jay feels like he’s going to pass out any minute from the feeling of your warm tight wet pussy wrapping snuggly around his cock.

He grips the sheets so roughly his knuckles turn a shade of white. He holds your hips in place as you finally take all of him inside you, your legs start to shake uncontrollably as you allow yourself to adjust to his size. You can feel his cock twitching and pulsating as you cock warm him. Finally when the pain turns into pleasure you start to slowly rock back and forth on him, you gasp voice trembling with ecstasy from the delicious drag of his cock.

“Oh fuck! Holy shit you’re so tight- Nghh” Jay’s hips bucks up to meet the rhythm you have set causing his body to arch off the bed when he feels your tight pussy clenching around his throbbing sex. His words seem to spur you on as you start to ride him faster, causing the bed to creak and the headboard to slam against the wall furiously.

The scent of sex, your loud moans and his deep grunts, and the sound of your hips slamming down against his, fills his room completely, in the back of his head he’s hoping his neighbors can’t hear what’s going on but that’s almost impossible from the way you’re riding the living hell out of him. You bounce on him like there’s no tomorrow, your sticky essence drips down your thighs onto his stomach. He hisses at the squelching sounds of your creamy pussy abusing his weeping cock.

“Fuck baby boy, dick so good fuuuckk cock so big you gonna make me cum goddamnit” the drag of his 8-inch cock plunges so deep into you, you feel his tip abusing your cervix. You scream to the top of your lungs when he grips your waist pulling you down on him, thrusting his hips upwards. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he sets a brutal pace, feeling nothing but pleasure and lust.

“Ah f-fuck! I’m not gonna last long shit I’m gonna bust” Jay lets out whiny moans as he feels your cunt clenching for what seems like the 100th time. The tempo of your bodies meeting is insane and almost primal, Jay fucks up and looks down to see where your sweaty bodies are connecting and that’s what sends him into a frenzy as his body shudders nonstop.

His orgasm hitting him like a tidal wave, letting out a guttural moan as his thick spurts of cum fills up your womb. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your legs shaking dangerously from the feeling of his warm cum filling up your insides.

The overwhelming feeling of being stuffed full, makes you lose control over your body as your wings spring out on their own. Jay’s eyes widened at the sight of them, reality hitting him that he’s fucking a sex demon.

You continue to ride him lost in the feeling of his thick cock hitting all the right spots. Pleasure takes over Jay’s body once again as he lets out a whimper from the feeling of you riding him hard. Overstimulation hitting him wildly, his body feels numb and his ears are ringing as a wave of heat washes over his body.

Jay’s rough hand grips on your plump asscheek while the other one fondles one of your juicy boobs. Out of curiosity Jay goes to touch one your wings, lightly squeezing it. Like time freezes you let out a loud high pitched scream, the feeling is almost unbearable, your body feels fuzzy and the band in your stomach threatening to snap any minute.

“No, No No please not there I-i can’t take it, it feels so good gonna squirt” You scratch at his chest with your long acrylics. Jay hisses at the sting of your nails digging into his skin. He continues to caress both of your wings and just like that the band in your stomach snaps causing you to squirt all over Jay and ruin his perfectly white sheets.

You collapsed on top of him, panting as you try to calm down from your high, Jay’s chest heaves up and down as holds you tight against him caressing your back. You look up to meet his gaze, he looks at you with such a fucked out facial expression and half lidded eyes. You giggle and smirk as you can tell he’s fighting to stay awake.

Jay can feel himself drifting into a slumber and then boom he blacks out as the darkness consumes him again. You coo at his cuteness wishing he had more energy in him so you could play with him some more.

Just like a flash of lightning your energy is back like it never left. You kiss Jay on the cheek one last time before you have to return back to your place in the deep pits of the darkness and just like that you disappear in thin air.

You leave your purple lingerie discarded on Jay’s floor, which is strictly forbidden for a succubus to leave any trance of their existence for their victims to find but you have a feeling you will be retuning back to visit Jay really soon and for him he’s worth the risk.

The next morning~

Jay wakes up with a pounding headache and his body aches like a bitch. He goes to stretch his limps but hisses at the sharp pain of what seems like to be scratches on his chest. He stands up from his bed, wiping the sleep away from his eyes as he makes his way to his bathroom. He flips on the light switch and his breath hitches when he sees multiple scratch wounds surrounding his chest.

The memories of last night’s affairs hits him all at once, he scurries back into his room and that’a when he spots the purple lingerie laying in the middle of his floor. Jay quickly grabs his phone along with the lingerie. He opens his camera and snaps a picture of the lingerie. He then makes his way back to bathroom as he snaps pictures of the scratches on chest and his disheveled appearance. He opens Jake’s contact and sends him the attachments.

*2 Attachments Sent*

Corn lover Jay🌽: Jake…😅

Golden retriever boy🐶: NO FUCKING WAY DUDE?

The End…

A/n: This drabble is inspired by Jhené Aiko’s song p*ssy fairy, just with my own little twist to it. i was foaming at the mouth as I was writing this, god sub hyungline is gonna do it for me every time you hear me?! But I hope you guys like this fic?? drabble?? Idk but please feel free to like, comment, and reblog 💋.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 14

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Happy Tuesday

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“Promise, Pete, I’ll get her back in one piece,” Hansen vows with a wink and a nudge. 

You sit helpless in his passenger seat. He has one hand on the open door as he faces your husband. Pete won’t look at you but you can barely do the same of him. Funny, how you’re so eager to be away from him that you’re not even that bothered at the prospect of spending the day with your boss. 

“You’re a life saver. Really. Never had a boss that cool,” Pete says. 

“Well, you know, I gotta admit. Your wife carries a big load at work. She’s saved my ass more than once and she kinda holds the whole place together. I’m sure you know exactly what that’s like, huh?” Hansen proclaims. 

“Uh, yeah I do,” Pete has the decency to sound ashamed. It’s too bad he couldn’t have seen that years ago. 

“Lucky man. We’re gonna figure it out. She’s strong, we both know you can’t keep her down,” he clicks his tongue.  

“Right, uh, well, I could take her if it’s easier.” 

“What? Pete? You were just telling me about that big meeting. Good luck!” He slaps Pete’s shoulder. “You’ll have to bring us some good news.” 

“Uh, right,” Pete grumbles, “um, honey, I... I love you. I hope the doctor can help.” 

“Thanks,” you say curtly. “Don’t wanna be late.” 

“Gotta listen to the wife, right? Always knows best,” Hansen chortles. “Watch out, sweetheart, don’t wanna catch you.” 

He closes the door as you keep your head straight. Their voices are muffled and you’re thankful for the mental break. The two of them don’t stop. You don’t know how you didn’t see the similarities before. 

You close your eyes and Lloyd drops into the driver’s side. You don’t flinch. He turns the engine and you stay just as you are. He pulls out and the motion sends a ripple through you. The painkiller might have something to do with that. 

“So, the old man and you are... icy,” he says. 

“That’s personal.” 

“Well, baby cakes, think we’re well past blurring lines,” he scoffs. 

“What do you care?” 

“Hey, I’m not entirely heartless. My balls just happen to be more sensitive,” he snickers. “Trust me, I’m not getting sentimental. I want you back to operational. That means whatever stick is lodged up your ass needs to come out so mine can get in.” 

“Disgusting,” you growl. 

“Mm, please, talk dirty to me, baby,” he purrs. 

You snap your mouth shut and grimace. You can’t help but think of the night before. Of Pete all over you. Just like the man beside you, he didn’t listen either. Your own husband... 

“Jesus, I know you’re high on percs but try to lighten up,” he intones. 

You rub your cheek and pry your eyes open, “are you really taking me to a doctor?” 

“As much as I’d rather be taking you to a penthouse and breaking your back more than it already is, yes, I’m taking you for real help. I got a magic mustache and even better tongue but I can’t fix whatever the fuck happened to you,” he shakes his head. “And judging by the way that creature had his tail tucked up where his dick should be, I think he had something to do with it.” 

He sniffs and squints at the road. He gives a thoughtful hum. 

“Petey doesn’t seem like the wife beater type, but I guess-” 

“The fuck? He didn’t-- Argh!” You grip your hip and spasm as you tense at the accusation. “He didn’t... mean to. I slipped.” 

“Huh, dropped you? Man can’t handle all of you, can he?” 

“Hansen,” you warn. 

“I could give him some lessons, if you want.” 

“Stop, please. I’m already going insane with you--” 

“Oh, I know, I got that something that makes the ladies go wacky,” he preens. 

“Urgh, for the love--” 

“Relax. Please. You really can’t help yourself. You’re making it worse. Legit. You’re getting actually butthurt because you can’t let up for one minute,” he reprimands. “I’m dying to get in there and loosen you up but you gotta meet me halfway. So chill.” 

You growl but try to take his advice. The tension is too much. If you keep going on like this, something’s going to give. With what the doctor said about your blood pressure, it could even be your heart. 

You watch the road. It’s nice to not be in control. To not be taxiing someone around; to not be the one worried about time or anything. Still, it’s that underlying reality that keeps you edgy. 

Lloyd pulls in at a clinic on the north end. It’s the kind you could never afford. You’re pretty sure you get a free Costco membership just for being a patient. 

As he parks, you sit up. He tuts, “now, you let good old Lloyd help you with your broken tush, babykins.” 

You send him a derisive look but don’t argue. The painkiller is kicking in and makes even him tolerable. He gets out and you watch him come around. 

He opens your door and with uncharacteristic caution, slides his arm behind you. You lean on him as you stand. He’s actually helping you. Your back buckles but he keeps you steady. He closes the door with his other arm and ushers you slowly across the lot. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You ask. 

“What?” He laughs. “I’m helping you, sweet cheeks.” 

“Exactly. You’re helping me. Why?” 

“I’ve been pretty honest how hungry I am for the peach,” he returns. 

“It can’t be just that.” you growl. “I’m not stupid.” 

“Oh, I know you aren’t. That’s half the fun. Easy enough to get a bimbo on my desk. Boring, now that I think of it--” 

You hiss and grab onto his forearm to keep from collapsing. You hate that you’re latching onto him for comfort. At that moment, you don’t have much else; in several ways. 

“Easy, alright,” he coaxes. “We’ll get you inside and sitting down. Hopefully it’s not as bad as it looks.” He whistles as he approaches the doors and kicks the automatic door button. “You’re looking rough.” 

“Gee, thanks, Hansen. You really know how to flatter a woman.” 

“More like flatten but we’ll get to that.” 

“Gah,” you snarl as he ushers you through the lobby. “You are the most vile man I’ve ever met.” 

“Ah, you really think so?” He angles you with him as he approaches the elevator and reaches to tap the button. “I don’t got a wife and kids at home waiting for me as I’m fucking the intern. Nah, I’m just tempting a working mom into adultery--” 

“Shut the fuck up!” You bark as the doors open. An elder woman is wheeled out at she sends you an appalled gape. Lloyd smiles and guides you into the elevator. 

“Not hard to piece together, you know?” 

“I’m telling you,” you warn him as the lobby is shut out by the metal doors. “It’s none of your business.” 

“It’s not and I don’t really care if Pete is boning the assistant he’s underpaying. But it explains a lot.” 

“Does it?” You snip. 

“Oh yeah. The way you leak like a faucet whenever I’m near for one--” 

“Gross.” 

“And the skill. Ma’am, I know you’ve been dreaming of it in that empty bed. The neglected wife, wiling away her spare hours, longing... well, here I am, baby, your knight in shining armour.” 

You whimper. The pain in your back is dull enough that you can bear it. It’s his needling that’s driving you up the wall. You need him to stop. You need everything to stop. You need one day when you’re not a plaything, not a wife, not a mom. 

“Keep sneering at me but we both know you came yesterday and it had nothing to do with the pills,” he taunts smugly. “So let me fix you up and I’ll give you all the Os you can handle.” 

🗄️

“It’s not a fracture,” the doctor turns away from the black and white images. “But I’m sure it hurts. You definitely bruised the bone but from what I can tell, your muscles are tight. It’s adding pressure to the trauma point. Pinching on a nerve or two.” 

You nod. It’s a relief that you didn’t break anything it’s not entirely great news. Lloyd turns away from the skeletal diagram on the table. “So, she’s fine?” 

“She’s in a lot of pain, isn’t she?” The doctor says. “She needs to go home. Relax. Sleep, if you can.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” He offers. “I really can’t stand to see her like this, doc. It makes me feel so powerless.” 

He touches his chest dramatically and you make a face.  

“Gentle massage. Just tender. Nothing to intense. Don’t push on anything,” he explains. “Warm bath if you can bear it, ice too. You said you have a support cushion?” You nod. “If you have to sit up, use it.” 

“I can handle that,” Lloyd drawls. “I can be gentle.” 

He smirks at you as you send him a sharp look. His lashes flick and his irises flare. You could punch him in the face and you think it would only egg him on. 

“Doc,” Lloyd nears him, “thanks. I owe ya. I’ll have a bottle of scotch sent to the practice.” 

“Just doing my job but I don’t mind a good cask-aged bottle.” 

“Consider it on its way,” Lloyd assures him and turns to you. 

You thank the doctor and let Lloyd help you off the bed. You don’t have the strength or energy to resist. It’s just the same as the last professional prescribed. Rest. You think he might just have to listen to the experts and give you a break. 

“Alright, let’s get you home, baby,” he cooes as you pass through the waiting room. You catch the glance of a woman who watches with envy as her husband slumps with arms crossed and resists a midday nap. If only she knew the type of man Lloyd truly is. 

He reclines the seat in the car for you. You close your eyes. The pills make you tired, just like everything else. 

The smooth motion of the car lulls you. You startle as you find yourself still. Lloyd lifts you from the seat and you spasm. You whimper and he clucks. 

“There ya go, making it all worse again,” he chides. 

You grab onto his shoulder. You can’t help but think of how Pete let you fall. You fear another crash down to earth. 

“I work out, baby face, don’t fucking worry,” he assures you. 

You furrow your brow and look around. You’re not in your neighbourhood. You thought he was taking you home. Instead, you’re staring up at one of those overpriced modern builds. 

“It’s glorious, isn’t it? The high life.” 

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing you could say that could convince him you’re not covetous, because you are. You could’ve gone down this road. You could’ve skipped the dry marriage and the fussy kids. 

That thought scourges you with guilt. You love your children and once upon a time you loved your husband too. It can’t be a mistake if it made you happy once. Simone and Malik still do make you happy. Hopeful, even. 

He brings you through the front door and strides into the airy front room. The windows stretch from ceiling to floor and let in the day. He lays you on the spacious sectional, the cushions wide enough for two, and he drags a pillow over for you. 

You close your eyes, content to just be in one place. 

He tugs your shirt up and exposes your stomach. You tug it back down and your lashes snap open. He tilts his head at you. 

“Baby, I’m helping.” 

“Leave it,” you warn. 

“What’s the problem? I saw it all before.” 

You glare at him. The problem is it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to gawk at you. He doesn’t need to count the ways you can’t compare to Kendra and those other pretty interns. Just like the one your husband is fucking. 

“Leave that at the goddamn door,” he says as if he can read your mind. 

He yanks again and you relent. Whatever. You’re just something to be used. For Pete, you’re a dishwasher and a laundry machine. For Lloyd, you’re a piece of flesh and fodder for his twisted ego games. 

He undresses you with a tenderness so unlike him. His hands rove up and down your body with each piece he removes. When you’re completely exposed, you cover yourself futilely with your hands. He tweaks your nipple then toys with it. 

“Gotta turn you over,” he winks. “My favourite position.” 

“You can’t--” 

“Relax, I’m not gonna finish the job,” he taps your thigh. 

He helps you shift onto your side. You groan and grunt with the effort. You hug one of the cushions and lean onto it, your back to him. He flutters his fingers down your side and goosebumps rise over your skin. 

You shiver and he chuckles, “feels nice, huh? See, I can be a good boy.” 

You don’t reply. You close your eyes and cling to the strands of delight. That relief is so fleeting. He drags his fingers up and down and around your lower back. He sweeps around your hip and retraces the same path. Your muscles quiver but unwind. 

“That’s it,” he encourages you. 

You moan as the heat of his fingers seeps into you. It’s nice. You haven’t feel this placid in so long. Your head stirs and your limbs slacken. You forget the world and just let yourself be in that feeling. 

His hand creep along the back of your thigh then between your legs. He wiggles between them and you flinches. He pushes against your slit and rubs the side of his index against your clit. 

“Hansen,” you rasps. 

“Shhhh,” he hushes you. “Doctor’s orders. You need to relax.” 

[winitry]

it seemed a lot of people liked the brother-in-law merle headcanons and a couple of people like the idea of uncle merle, so... let's talk about how you and daryl make merle an uncle :)

─•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•──•~❉᯽❉~•─

• you get pregnant not long after the group settles in alexandria

• merle keeps his distance from you while you're pregnant

• your hormones are all over the place, you go from laughing to crying at the drop of a dime, and any time he opens his mouth around you, he's always saying the wrong thing

• daryl has to play mediator so that you don't kill him, even though sometimes daryl considers doing it himself

• like when merle mentioned how big you were getting during your second trimester... *sigh*

• you cried

• daryl snapped

• it was... not a good day

• so he stays away for the most part, asking daryl when he wants to know how you're doing. he occasionally brings you some snacks that he must have stolen from the pantry, but you're always too hungry to care about how he got them

• first time merle actually calls you his sister out loud is after you've given birth and he holds his niece for the first time

• "atta girl, baby sister. you did real good."

• he is BEAMIIIINNGGG

• his eyes are just a little wet because the air is dry, that's all...

• he had wanted a nephew so bad, but the second he sees her, his heart grows three times it's size

• he was convinced that dixons could only make boys, but here he is holding a little dixon girl, daryl's babygirl, and she's the most precious thing he's ever seen

• constant jokes about needing a paternity test

• "i'm just saying, that nose is lookin' more like mine than yours, maybe your girl slipped into the wrong bed one night-" "shut the hell up, merle"

• merle always gives you a little wink to show he's just being an ass and not actually accusing you of such a thing

• which daryl knows. it doesn't annoy him any less, though

• never allowed to babysit EVERRRR. if your daughter isn't with aunt carol or aunt maggie, then she's at the grimes house. merle always has choice words about it

• okay, well... he babysits a couple times. and your daughter was returned back each time covered in dirt. one time merle carries her up to the door with wet pant legs pulled up to her knees and bits of leaves still strewn in her hair

• "oh... you had a fun time with uncle merle, huh?" "damn right she did, mamas. taught 'er how to catch frogs. babydoll, tell yer mama what a frog says!" "bib-bit!" "she's learnin'."

• saying the name merle is too complicated for your daughter's limited articulation, so she just calls him 'unca' while she's learning to talk.

• when your daughter DOES start to articulate...

• "son of a bitch!" "bitch!" "ha! that was good! wait- nah, nah, don't say that- aw, shit..." "shit!" "no!"

• he refuses to own up to it

• "merle! why's my daughter cursin' like a fuckin' sailor?" "well, darleena, sounds to me like she's gettin' it from you!"

• he's the favorite uncle (after aaron - your daughter adores aaron)

• rick's lowkey offended by it and tries to subtly bribe your daughter into saying she likes him more

• "uncle dick!"

• ...

• "... are you kiddin' me?" "don't know where she learned that from. must be a good judge'a character."

little bonus that doesn't have to do with uncle merle: it's really up to you, but i like to think that you and daryl would have agreed to name your daughter beth 🥺 you would have suggested the name, knowing that part of daryl never really healed after her death, and he would freeze. forgets how to breathe for a second as the memories wash over him. and then he would blink really fast as he feels his eyes start to water and he'd give you that soft little nod he does when he's trying not to cry. PLEASE- 😭

[nolanfa-fanart]

Gen (non-romantic) fics recs: DC, the Batfamily has Issues

Fandom: DC, batfam Theme: The Bat family has Issues This is the place for comically bad at communication!batfam, oh gosh you have so many issues (affectionate), trauma, etc. Please assume that every "Why I love it" summary is prefaced with "This is one of my fave DC fics. First, it's very well-written. Second, ". List under the readmore.

I'm a Good Pretender, by shipNslash ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/45598369 ) 7/7 chapters, 40.416 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply Main characters: Dick mostly, and Bruce

Official Summary: “You’re doing it again,” Bruce says, tone accusatory. “You’re faking.” “It’s not faking,” Dick snaps, a little more aggressive than he means to be. But he doesn’t like that word, doesn’t like the connotations. (Especially when he knows Bruce is lying about something, too.) “Then what is it?” “It’s called being charming and it’s nice.” -_- Dick’s mother raised her son to be a star. Dick’s father raised his son to be an athlete. Bruce's new ward is charming (manipulative), dedicated (obsessive), and way, way too smart for either of their own good.

Why I love it: This is peak Performer Dick. Smart kid Dick who knows how to make people like him. Hyperactive Dick. And Wet Cat Battinson. Who wouldn't want to see them interact?

Excerpts: "Oh. From the- That is, yes. I'm, uh, I'm Richard's case worker." The boy visibly twitches and she redirects her attention. "Hello, Richard. Are you al- um, How are you feeling?" Alfred almost winces but, instead of withdrawing again or lashing out, Richard does something much, much more distressing. Right in front of Alfred, the boy transforms into someone totally different. His posture shifts, from despondent slackness to a sort of tense hunch, making him look far younger and in much more distress. His expression loses the blankness of shock as his bottom lip wobbles and his eyes well up with big, fat tears. "I wanna go home,” he cries out. “Please, I just wanna go home!" - And Dick is glad that this isn’t their first meeting, because Mister Wayne is painfully, intolerably awkward the whole time. He flinches every time someone addresses him, only makes eye contact with the toes of his scuffed converse shoes, and sneaks out the back door halfway through with Mister Pennyworth when he is very obviously losing a battle against an oncoming panic attack. How did this guy survive being famous, Dick wonders, watching him creep back in like he won’t be noticed if he’s quiet enough.

-- By Any Other Name, by ManURonaldo, part of the Like Father Like Sons series https://archiveofourown.org/works/40244490 1/1 chapters, 4.569 words (part of a 55k series) T, Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (brief mention of Jason's mom) Main characters: Jason and Bruce (decent Dick, Steph and Tim presence in the rest of the series)

Official Summary: “Have you seen Bruce recently?” Dick asks one night. “Haven’t seen Bruce since the last time I saw you,” Jason responds. He can feel the weight of Tim’s eyes on him though, and it’s grating. “WHAT, Tim?” “You saw him last night,” Tim responds after a moment, flicking his eyes towards Dick. “Literally last night, man.” “Yeah,” Jason responds without thinking, because he hasn’t slept in 58 hours, “I saw Batman last night. I haven’t seen Bruce in a month.” For a moment, there’s complete silence. And then, in an exasperated whisper, Dick says: “what the fuck, Jay?” OR: Jason picks up a little bit more from Bruce than he means to as Robin. It doesn’t go away, not even when he’s Hood. OR: Jason watches Bruce. Tim watches Jason. Dick watches Tim. They all need therapy.

Why I love it: I love that one. I love the way it features Identity Issues. The first story in the series is about Jason and Bruce, and following ones are also about Jason's relationships with Dick, Tim, Steph, and the way those different relationships interact. The Tim and Jason part (in the following stories) in particular goes way deeper than the usual dynamic of resentment for taking Robin / for past violence, and looks at why, now, they might or might not like / understand each other. Each of the batfam members is fucked up in different ways, which I love.

Excerpts: Jason is six years old and sometimes he feels like his dad is two different people in one body. There’s a person in there that loves him and holds him even though he’s too big to be held and makes him breakfast in the morning. And there’s another person in there, too, who thinks Jason is annoying and spoiled and always in the way and a problem. There are signs, is the thing: Jason can figure out who he’s talking to, if he’s quiet enough. It’s about the way the footsteps in the hallway sound, it’s about the label on the bottle in his dad’s hand. Sometimes when Jason enters a room he makes a noise just to see: if he squeaks his shoe and his dad doesn’t notice, it’s his nice dad. If his dad grimaces or glares, it’s the dad that doesn’t like him, and Jason needs to leave. It’s all about knowing who he’s talking to, Jason learns. If he knows who he’s talking to, he can be better about making mistakes.

-- May Tomorrow Never Come, by @lurkinglurkerwholurks https://archiveofourown.org/works/43606872 1/1 chapters, 3.580 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply Main Characters: Jason and Bruce

Official Summary: Jason clawed his way out of the nightmare like a drowning man.

Why I love it: First, I think it is very good, as a fic specifically. All fics live in the soup of canon and fanon facts we absorbed along the way, and you knowing who the characters are and what happens to them in different iterations informs your understanding of them, but this one does it particularly well. Second. It broke my heart. It talks about trust and intimacy and kid/parent relationships and fear and nostalgy and love and. I love it.

Excerpts: The Manor waited outside the door, exactly like it should be. The hallway was quiet and dark, the darkness tight and full, but not scary. He hadn’t been scared here since those first few months, when this place was only a place. He couldn’t be scared at home, no matter how his head spun and his nerves jumped and jittered.

-- Red Letter Day, by @silverwhittlingknife https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988874 9/? chapters, 41,819 words (technically part of a series but can be read as standalone) - WIP, last updated july 2022 G, Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (some oblique references to the blockbuster plotline) Main Characters: Dick

Official Summary: Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday. He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too. (… Though only after everything fell apart first.) Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Why I love it: The characterization is delightful. Dick tries to hold the world on his shoulders, scrambling to hold everyone together; he's also very much not perfect, and biaised and petty against specific other people. Jason is an antagonistic asshole but he tries. Tim doesn't understand boundaries but means really really well. They love each other very much but they're afraid and they just talk over / through / just to the left of each other. This is a dumpster fire. Also the end notes of each chapter include interesting tidbits about what is canon (with specific runs/issues) which I personally find super interesting.

Excerpts: This is out-of-character: deliberately unprofessional. And it’s definitely deliberate. Dick doesn’t want to second-guess Tim’s first amicable overture in what feels like years. He catches himself doing it anyway. When Tim was fourteen, the faceplant comment might have been spontaneous - just a wry observation, maybe with a quick grin, sharing the joke. But Tim’s older now, and a lot more serious. So this casual remark is actually calculated. So what is this? An attempt to recapture an old camaraderie? Or is Tim covering up a bad mood with a chipper attitude? Or is this another manifestation of Tim’s concern, a test to gauge Dick’s mood? Argh. Or maybe Tim is just being friendly, Grayson.

[trexiejan]

My Opinion about Barbara Gordon as Oracle.

Oracle is a great character. Don't get me wrong.

My issue has nothing to do with her disability but more on how her writers and fans brag about her job and position in the DCU in an arrogant way.

I've met a lot of toxic barbara gordon fans who think she's an untouchable goddess who everyone has to worship and who thinks she runs the entire universe.

Again Oracle is a great character but I don't like it when her writers and fans ignore, sideline, and dumb down other dc characters to prop her up.

I think she's a bit overhyped and her role is over-exagerrated.

let me explain.

Her fans think she's the brain of the DCU.

I disagree with this.

Barbara is smart but I refuse to believe she's DC's no. 1 most smartest character when the Brainiac Family, Lex Luthor, Detective Chimp and Mr Terrific are right there.

Her fans think she's the one and only tech support and central hub of information for the entire dc superhero community.

Who gave Barbara this title?

In what world where 10 billion+ people exist, is it possible to only have 1 person capable of using technology and providing information to people.

I don't think Barbara is that special.

There are plenty of DC Characters who know how to use a computer.

Who know how to research.

Who know how to hack.

Who know how to communicate with other heroes.

Who know how to use technologies

The Brainiac Family, Lex Luthor, Cyborg, Mr. Terrific, Danny Chase, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Luke Fox, Blue Bettle, Green Arrow, Atom etc.

and Governments exist in dc too!!! There's literally Amanda Waller!

Batman has the Bat-computer in his Batcave

The Titans have a huge computer at Titans Tower.

The Justice League has the watchtower which has even installed highly advanced off world technologies.

You expect me to believe these characters don't use their own computers and resources and just wait on Barbara to hand feed them information???

Why are her writers and fans ignoring all these other intelligent tech users and information brokers in DC?

Why are they making Barbara the center of their universe.

Reastically, A lot of characters don't really need Barbara to do things for them.

They can do what she does.

A lot of DC teams have fully functioned and stood on their own without her help.

Her fans always say she's a huge part of the Justice League and Suicide Squad.

Yes she is a member but she's not an integral part of those teams and I'm sorry but she's not easily remembered as a member of those teams. She's forgettable.

Nobody knows who Oracle is outside of comics.

Oracle doesn't even exists in multiple Justice League and Suicide Squad cartoon shows and movies.

Again Barbara is a great character but her role and importance is over-exagerrated.

And I don't know if this is the right word but she looks like a cloutchaser to me since she's often shoehorned into other character's histories and into other teams she has nothing to do with to maintain her relevance. Worse she dumbs down characters along the way to justify her presence.

just like What Tom Taylor did in the Titans book when he shoehorned her into their team despite the fact that she's not a Titan and she's not needed. They literally already have Cyborg for tech support 🙁 what's worse is that Cyborg got sidelined to make her look more useful to the team.

Again I don't hate Barbara.

I just don't like the constant bias towards her.

I do think Barbara is Gotham's information hub, but I don't think she's the queen of the entire dc universe.

Overall i think she's better on her own with her own original supporting cast because Every other hero she touches gets dumbed down to prop her up including Dick.

Dick is an intelligent detective and he's also a good hacker. He's even hacked an alien computer before but the second he gets paired with Barbara, he stays away from technologies and gets dumber so he can be the himbo muscle and she can be the Brains behind their operation 🙁