#but you still need to invest in the original red-eyes first

[lovezbrownies]

Work affair. (Yandere!Boss x GN!Reader)

Masterlist

Synopsis: Your boss never cared much for you, until he did.

Red Ludenhart x Reader.

Warnings: Stalking, breaking and entering, alcohol, clubbing, drugging (to reader), death (minor character), forced memory loss,

Your boss was a tad bit strange, but you can put up with the strange behavior if it meant getting paid. Even if your boss didn’t allow you to step outside of his office and the VVIP area of the club that’s okay, maybe he doesn’t want you to be influenced by lazy workers! Or he doesn’t want any of the sleazy non-VVIP customers to harass you! It was all for your own safety. You think.

Red was delighted to learn your apartment was close by to his club. He would always offer to walk you back home when your shift is regrettably over, he has your address memorized, as well as the entire layout of your apartment. The second fact was not something you were aware of however, you should definitely get better locks. It was child’s play to break into your humble abode.

The first few nights he broke into your home he was far more cautious than he is now, Red didn’t know when your bedtime was, but when he decided to install cameras all around your apartment, he could finally have some peace knowing when you were and weren’t awake. And of course to spy on any guests you have over, watching you walk around and commit yourselves to your hobbies on the weekends.

You were the definition of perfection in his eyes. Red wasn’t one for love and that mushy stuff, he’d always preferred the more chaotic parts of his life than the mushy lovey dovey stuff he’s seen on TV. That's what he’s been saying to himself up until he met you, the new bartender. Red has no clue who hired you but he sure as hell is eternally grateful for it.

It wasn’t a love at first sight situation, nor did you meet immediately. You met the owner of the club you work at a month after you started working. It was during the monthly staff meeting when you did. Red was confused by your presence and asked who you were, after introducing yourself to him he brushed you off. Red didn’t care if there was a new employee, as long as you don’t cause trouble you’re not someone important to him at all.

Red thought you were attractive, sure, but most of his staff are– nothing new. Red doesn’t like the main entrance of his own club, usually taking the back entrance for special patrons, and into the VVIP area. So that means months passed, and the only times he’d ever see you are during the staff meetings. He’s sure you do at least the bare minimum since you don’t get a lot of complaints like other staff. Maybe the illogical assholes every now and then would accuse you of something but the floor manager usually has it handled.

It wasn’t until you had the closing shift while Red was still there that he realized how wonderful you are. Normally he’d be back home before the closing shift, today was different. It was a long complicated process but Red managed to convince an investor to put in double the money they originally invested; it was now 5:50 AM. Patrons have been kicked out, evident by the lack of noise, and Red’s sure the staff have left by now.

Red needed to drink something, and he needed it to be as heavy as possible. The VVIP areas didn’t have anything strong so he went to the general area of his club. Red expected the usual emptiness of the club, but someone was still there, vacuuming the confetti off the floors. In the middle of the large empty club stood you, headphones on as you nodded along to the music you were listening to.

This was something he hadn’t seen before; and he just stood there– watching as you cleaned up, unaware of the predator watching your every move. Eventually, tired of standing there Red just walked over to one of the bars around the club, took his favorite brandy bottle, poured himself a cup full, and kept watching. This time he was leaning against the bar counter. It was cute how you were none the wiser of his presence.

Eventually you turned off the vacuum. Turning around you expected nothing less than perfectly clear floors, which yes that you did see, but you also found the owner of the club, smirking at you, glass half empty. You stood there, motionlessly staring at Red as he stared right back at you. Not wanting to get into trouble for whatever reason you sped off into the restricted area for the staff and booked it to the janitor’s closet; just as Red was about to say something to quell your anxieties.

Well, not Red’s interest was certainly piqued. Picking up the vacuum you abandoned he made his way over to the staff only area, waiting to hear some shuffling but all he heard was the staff’s exit door opening and closing. You left. Not a trace of your existence to be seen. Looked like you were all ready and packed to leave, it’s fine, he’ll just put the vacuum back and see you the next day.

And see you he did. For weeks, he would approach you at the end of your shift, chat, and then walk you back home. A month and a half into your newfound friendship he promoted you to be the VVIP’s sole bartender, firing the old one for reasons unknown. Red watched your every move since, in his club, in your apartment, with your friends, shopping. Wherever you are. There will always be a camera following your every move.

Your boss was a nice man for getting to know you, walking you home as the sun rises, making sure no one bothered you, and when someone did he’d defend you like his life depended on it. Normally, you’d fall in love with a man if he did all that just for you. But you were already in a committed relationship. 

Your husband, Richard, is a military man, striving to be the next Chief. He moved away from the city you two lived in right before you started working at the bar– Rich was transferred over to a different city, and you didn’t want to move away from your family and friends, so you compromised. Richard tries his best to come by and visit, he still pays for your shared apartment, and always calls you morning and night. He is the man for you.

Red knew about Richard, of course he would. Red knew everything there was to know about you, and was he concerned over it? No. Red has connections everywhere. Including in the military, so when an unfortunate accident occurs, a misfire, or maybe a terrible case of food poisoning. Whatever it may be, your ex-husband is now dead. Leaving room for Red to be the sincere loving friend. Yes, come running to his arms, cry to him, it’s late and you don’t want to be alone? No worries, he’ll stay the night!

Red’s been doing an amazing job distracting you from the death of your ex-husband. Hugging you when you need, cooking mouth watering dishes just for you, and buying you many things to help distract you from the grief. Like gaming consoles, knitting yarn, books, art equipment, anything! If he ever sees you show interest in something he will immediately purchase it or at least try to get a hold of it. Whenever you show concern or guilt over the amounts he’s spent on you he softly pets you and tells you that his club is very successful.

Over time, Red truly weaseled his way into your life. He spent most of his nights in your bed; although platonically, as you so claim. Red likes to act like a good househusband when he does sleep over, wake up early, cook breakfast, and shamelessly flirt with you. You two walk together to work, he doesn’t dare think of work up until your shift starts.

Red doesn’t like to harm you, but he has been slipping a few pills into your food; a few anti-anxiety meds, with sleeping aids and here comes the perfect concoction for lapses of memory, causing you to forget quite a bit but not too much to be dangerous. He does this for a while, until you mostly forget about the fact that you had been unfaithful to Red by marrying some rando. Once that happens Red pulls back from the drugging. It was easy to do so, with a spare key to your apartment and him cooking you most of your meals.

You stare up at the ceiling with a soft smile on your face, you ponder how you hadn’t managed to fall in love with your husband sooner. He’s always been there for you, he’s protected you from creeps, and he’s spoiled you even before you got together. You were so lucky that you had him. You looked back down, gazing at the handsome man laying his head on your lap. You caress his hair, your perfect man, Red.

Red loves his little butterfly.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Absolute Submission to the Queen

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors.

Emma: *coughs, coughs*

Silvio: "Hey, what's wrong!?"

Silvio hurriedly approached me and placed his hand on my back.

Despite feeling guilty, I forcefully grabbed his shirt and pulled his handsome face closer.

Silvio: "!?"

Then I lightly kissed him, causing his face to turn bright red.

Even though it had been a while since we got engaged, it seemed he still wasn't used to being touched like this.

(I'm sorry, Prince Silvio.)

Emma: "If you don't do what I ask, I'll humiliate you even more."

Silvio: "You...!"

Emma: "Want me to help you change your clothes?"

I started unbuttoning his shirt, and he quickly distanced himself.

Silvio: "Fine, I’ll turn around, damn it."

Silvio: "But don't you dare stand up and change!"

His ears were still red as he turned away.

(..........)

(I might be able to tame him more than I thought.)

Silvio: "This profit margin is too low. We're overspending."

Merchant: "But the key to this business is to target the rich with high-quality..."

Silvio: "That market is already saturated by existing businesses. Investing in it won't lead anywhere."

(They're having a serious conversation, and yet...)

Silvio continued to examine the documents with one hand while readjusting his hold on me with the other.

(What the hell is even going on here!?)

He regularly hosted business negotiation meetings to invite promising entrepreneurs for business matchmaking.

However, I felt out of place in such a serious meeting, both physically and in terms of the surrounding gazes.

(Of course, I didn't want to interfere with his work, but I never expected him to carry me around like this instead of leaving me in the room.)

Even when I asked him to put me down, he flatly refused.

Seeing how worried he looked, I couldn't bring myself to refuse either, and as a result, I found myself in this embarrassing situation.

Silvio: "Emma, if there's something on your mind, just tell me."

After finishing the business meeting, our eyes met from a close distance.

Emma: "The current situation is what's bothering me the most."

Silvio: "You're still saying that?"

Silvio: "You injured your leg, so there's no helping it. Just stay quiet."

Emma: "Don't you get tired of carrying me like this?"

Silvio: "This is nothing."

Emma: "..........."

Silvio: "You look dissatisfied."

Emma: "You understand the reason, right?"

Silvio: "I dunno."

(I need to do something about this. Their stares are getting to me!)

I looked around, hoping to find something useful, and my eyes landed on the dishes laid out on the table.

(He's a bit of a shy one, so maybe...)

Emma: "Prince Silvio, I'm hungry."

Silvio: "Come to think of it, you didn't eat much this morning."

(I couldn't taste anything because you kept me on your lap the entire time.)

I swallowed the urge to say that and smiled.

Emma: "Could you please let me sit in that chair over there?"

Emma: "I'll sit still and behave."

Silvio: "Alright."

(He's surprisingly compliant.)

He quickly closed the distance and sat on the chair.

(Hm?)

I blinked in surprise when he suddenly placed me on his lap.

Silvio: "What do you want to eat?"

(Wait, wait, wait!)

Emma: "You're not planning to do the same thing as you did during breakfast, are you?"

Silvio: "Isn't that what Her Majesty the Queen desires?"

(Doesn't he realize people are watching!?)

(No, he's a tyrant, so maybe he doesn't care about being watched in the first place.)

Ignoring my frozen state, he skillfully cut up the seafood dish on the table and brought it to my mouth.

Silvio: "Here you go."

Emma: "I want to eat by myself."

Silvio: "Denied."

Emma: "I see."

(If that's the case, there's nothing I can do.)

I opened my mouth wide and let him feed me, deliberately brushing my tongue against his finger.

Silvio: "!?"

Emma: "It's delicious."

Silvio: ".........."

(I'm really sorry, but this is for my dignity.)

Emma: "What's wrong? Weren't you going to feed me?"

Emma: "Or have you decided to listen to my request?"

Emma: "A simple request to let me eat by myself."

Silvio: "You might actually have the Queen's talent in you."

Emma: "It's embarrassing to be praised by a tyrant."

Silvio: "Don't get embarrassed. Haah."

Exaggeratedly sighing, he sat up and gently helped me back into the chair.

Silvio: "This should be enough."

Emma: "Thank you."

When I received the plate handed to me, he looked at me with some dissatisfaction.

I felt like he would pounce on me the moment I put any strain on my legs.

(He really cares about me. He's just overly protective.)

I couldn't help but smile, and in response, he tousled my hair affectionately.

Even though it was a bit embarrassing, his care and concern made me happy.

Surrounding merchants: "..........."

I should have been concerned about how that scene looked to others, but I only heard the rumors a few days later.

Rio: "Damn it, I'm so jealous!"

Silvio: "Sorry about that."

Rio, frustrated, knelt on the floor and pounded his fist into the ground, leaving Silvio looking down at him in bewilderment.

Just like before, Silvio carried me with one arm.

Emma: "No, wait."

Emma: "Rio, what did you just say?"

Rio: "Are you making me say those cruel words to him again?"

Emma: "No, that's not it. Let me repeat."

Emma: "Did you just say Prince Silvio has completely become a dog tamed by me?"

Rio: "That's right. The merchants who were present at the last meeting are spreading the rumor that this flirt is your dog."

Rio: "Not just the merchants, even the servants in the castle are all saying the same thing, calling him a dog."

Rio: "But it's true, right? Lately, this guy has been clinging to you constantly, never leaving your side."

Rio: "He's been doing everything for you like a dog."

Rio: "I'm so jealous. I want to become your dog, too!"

Rio: "Hey, can I also become your pet?"

Silvio: "Idiot. I'm not generous enough to allow multiple pets."

Rio: "Stingy!"

Silvio: "Shut up! You better go do your official duties!"

Rio: "Don't get carried away just because you became Emma's dog!"

Silvio: "Stop barking, you damn dog!"

(...........)

(What should I do!? If Silvio continues to be ridiculed like this, I don't think I can tolerate it.)

Part 1╎Premium╎Epilogue╎Special Story

[cherry-pop-elf]

Father Figure Snape To Fred And George Weasley Snippets

Snape originally hated the twins, with a passion. Seeing nothing but James in them. These pair of students who wanted to cause chaos and destruction. That goofed around, were Casanovas, and over all a burden to him

But as time went on, he started to see alot more Lilly in them. He noticed them be there for the younger kids. Making rules on who to prank and who to not prank. They even apologized when a joke went too far. They had a moral code, and a clear passion for potions. They weren’t James, and they weren’t Lily either. They were their own beings, and he admired it

He had to keep up his scary aesthetic, for a number of reasons, so he tried to hide his fatherly affection from public eye. But he would slip up, now and again. And it was REALLY noticeable during Umbridges time. Given she was out for blood at the twins

Rumor has it that he was the one to even unlock the closet that had their brooms in, when she took them away from the twins, so that they could make their grand escape from school. There is no proof, besides some strange slashes at the lock on the closet. As if someone made multiple slashes.

Don’t lie. Molly is a good mom, but was verbally abusive. Especially at the twins. One of his ways to show his fatherly affection was that no matter what, he never raised his voice at them. Even when in class. When he had to yell, he made sure to make it clear it was either at a certain person or the class as a whole. So the twins didn’t have to be scared

When Snape passed on, that’s when the twins could be open about his affection. Knowing he wouldn’t be at risk of any punishment for it. They named him after muggle candy they make even, to let him have pride in his muggle blood. Along with other cute things. Like named his favorite flavor after him. Much like how they sold muggle things, in honor of their dad, they would even make mini potion kits for the honor of Snape

Snape 100% would talk to the twins about muggle things, and it was mentally healing for him. These two red heads that were so fascinated by muggle things, and ready to hear him about it. He’s able to see hope for the first time in a long while. To heal. To have some pride in his muggle blood, and comfort in the fact he had these pranksters genuinely be super invested

He even went as far as to be involved in pranks with the twins. Especially at Umbridge. It was healing to be part of the making of pranks, and even didn’t mind when the twins pranked him. Because the twins respected his trauma, and never did anything super extreme. Like they normally would. Silly things, like muggle pranks. Like invisible ink, and rather harmless jokes. Snape never got hurt by them, and it was comforting to know he could be treated normal like that. Normal, and with out pain

Snape so taught them how to perform muggle pranks, and no wizard was able to escape them. Given it’s a muggle thing, so they had no way to know what to expect. Made Snape hold pride in his half blood

Snape is able to be a little more sane, all because of the twins, and he makes sure that it’s known when he passes. That the twins are in his will, and inherited his things. Spinners End would end up becoming like a muggle summer home. That it’s now a home for joy, for the next bundle of Weasley kids, compared to pain that his family had. There was love in that house

It becomes a good safe haven, for George, when he needs to process Fred’s death. Which is very important for him. Somewhere different, but still familiar at the same time. Just away from it all. Somewhere safe, and in the muggle world. Away from anything that reminded him of Fred, but still a comfort of someone familiar. The man that helped raise them

Snape, in general, was a dad to all the Slytherin’s. Duh. So it catches the dorm off guard at seeing the twins inside now and again. When a party isn’t being thrown

Father figure Snape to Fred and George is my blood fuel. Thank you. One of the few students to ever get perfect grades in potion class, while still being goofballs

Probably one of the last few things Snape did, before the Dumbledore Moment was go to the Weasley Shop. To tell them in person he was proud, and maybe even show support in buying something. The twins, unaware, that these were the final acts of a dying man

George would also tell Daniel how much he reminded him of Snape, and that it wasn’t a bad thing. Happily sharing with him those special moments with the newest potion master to be

Snape was there for the moments Molly couldn’t, and uh. Yeah. That’s the post. Fight me. Father Snape

[jadedwolf18-blog]

Joke’s on You!

Hi! Don’t shoot! I have gifts!

I put Jokes on You on AO3 so you can find the full fic there, if this is the first time seeing this fic, otherwise you are welcome to try and find my original chapter posts by combing my Blog Archive. Here’s the latest two chapters if you’re up for if you’re up to date. Otherwise I recommend clicking the link to get all the chapters in on place!

Ok, enjoy you Beasties(affectionate)!

🤍🖤💚💙💚🖤🤍

Chapter 8: Bats and Stalkers

Red Hood watched as his newest subordinate flittered around their current base, the kid had shown up two weeks ago and had slowly integrated themself into his gang. Hood still didn’t know if he should trust the kid or not but other than a strange buzz whenever they were near, he had no reason to mistrust them. The kid was… strange but seemed to genuinely want to help despite having admitted to practically stalking him for weeks before approaching. He huffed as he thought over their first encounter.

*****

Jason sighed as he leaned back, legs dangling over the edge of the abandoned theatre's roof. It was a slow night and the semi-peace had him on alert, calm in Gotham almost never bode well for anyone. He'd removed his Hood, Domino in place as he looked over Crime Alley, smoke trailing from his lips as he took a drag from his cigarette.

The usual Gotham smog clouded the sky, obscuring the stars from view. It was nearing early morning when a scuff from behind had him instinctively grabbing his guns as he got to his feet and spun around to face the intruder. Pausing to take in the figure in front of him. They had their hands up in a show of peace and remained calm under hoods scrutiny. "who are you?"

Instead of a verbal answer, they slowly began to sign. "I want to join you. I'm new in Gotham, been following the bats and rogues the last few weeks. Thought my skills and goal lined up best with yours"

'Huh, that's knew.' Jason leaned down to pick up his Hood and put it on before replying. "Why'd you think that? If yah know who I am, what's your goal?"

The kid? they looked about Duke or Tims age, not that he could tell much from the full head and face mask they wore. Similar to Black Bat. 'A copy cat?'' He took the chance to look them over more thoroughly as he waited for a response. Their outfit covered every inch of skin and was mostly black with thin hacker green and screen blue lines running along the seams and crisscrossing their chest, almost resembling the motherboard of a computer, the area covering the eyes glowed faintly and was the same screen blue, there was also a neon red X over the mouth area that looked to have been painted on rather aggressively over a silver grin.

The boots they wore were strange, they were similar to Nightwing's skintight suit but in place of the thin flexible soles, they had thick heavy silver platforms that resemble combat boots. 'how'd they sneak up on me in those?' he wondered. Tucked into the boots was a pair of loose cargo style pants, held up with a silver belt. The top once again bore resemblance to Nightwing's skin tight suit with the sleeves continuing on to cover the hands, each finger tipped in silver claws.

Movement from their hands caught his attention, he paid keen attention as they signed. "1-Personal investment in taking down the Joker. 2-Need help, you were the best bet in letting me get my shot, others would try talk me out of it. 3-Don't feel like being a Rogue. 4-I'm good at gathering info unnoticed."

They let their hands drop to their sides but kept them in sight, head cocked to the side as they waited for a reaction. Hood thought it over. "Prove the last one and I'll let you in on a trial run. Once you do that we can go over house rules and the types of jobs you'll get."

Jason had fully expected the kid to agree and leave to gather information on some gang or something. He was not expected for them to slowly reach behind them and pull out multiple folders, from seemingly nowhere and toss the stack onto the floor between them. Giving them another once over, he saw nowhere they could have possible hid the stack. Looking from the stack to the kid in question, he tilted his head in silent inquiry. They gat the message and began to sign. "That's all the info I gathered on the other Bats during my time observing them, as well as information I gathered on various Rogues and factions in Gotham"

Jason's brow rose under his hood as he slowly moved to pick up the files. flipping through the stack, he could feel his brows clime higher and higher as he did before farrowing when he got to the folders on the Bats. The files were incredibly detailed, describing each of their patrol routes, rotations, preferred routes, habits, favourite rest stops and they even went into detail on their relationships and who paired best with who for fights and recon missions.

He glanced up at the kid, who was currently staring up at the smog filled sky. 'I'll have to leave soon, the sky is already started to turn pale.' He quickly skimmed through the rest of the files, almost snorting as he came across a picture of Nightwing face planting a window at Wayne Enterprises Tower. 'It's a good thing Bruce had all the windows reinforced'. His humour quickly turned into a scowl when he came across a picture of Red Hood dangling from his ankle after being caught in a trap set by Spoiler. "What's your plan if I say no?"

"Black Mail you into letting me join." Jason's brows shot up at that.

"And if that fails?" Jason was curious, what would this kid do?.

"Help you any way. You just wont see me." Jason resisted the urge pinch the bridge of is nose.

"Fine Kid, I'll let you in for a trial period of a month, if you double cross me in any way you're out. Got it?"

Jason received a nod and salute from the kid. "Alright, come here tomorrow at 9pm and I'll lead you to the warehouse we use for debriefs. We'll start on one of the gangs we've been onto for awhile, you got some good tips here. From there we'll test your skills. Now, What do I call you kid?"

"Not a kid. 18. You can call me Hex." With that the kid stepped back, spun and made a running leap to the next roof top. Quickly disappearing into the distance.

"Hex, huh." He'd have to keep an eye on them, they were good, if they could keep tabs on the Bats without being caught. he bit his lip as he looked through the files again until he found the one on Black Bat. 'I really hope this kid doesn't turn out to be a budding Rogue... this is Tim level of fuck all stalking and the fact they manage to make a file on Black Bat... She hadn't mentioned anything, so either she felt there was no threat or she did not detect them at all.'  With a heavy sigh, Jason gathered the files and stuffed them in to the bag he used for collecting shit from the dealers or thugs he came across during patrols. Stretching out, he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way down to his bike. it was time to get back to his safe house and sleep before tackling whatever the hell that encounter had been.

*****

Danny yawned as they stretched out on their couch, it had been two weeks since they got themselves an in with Hoods gang, things were going well so far. They were still doing grunt work being a runner, but Danny found it fascinating. It reminded them of watching his sperm donor's operations but at the same time it was the complete opposite. Where before they were always wary, now they were at ease and confident in their safety. Back then there was always screams, crying and fights in the background, with the current Red Hood? There was a camaraderie, a deep understanding that they work to help those in Crime Alley.

Hood ruled by respect, fear and protection. It settled something in Danny to see the Red Hood title so far removed from their childhood memories. It was also a surprise to find that Red Hood was the source of the Angry/Hurt tugging they had felt here and there since entering Gotham. Red Hood was a Revenant, a sick one at that. Danny had slowly been filtering the corrupt ectoplasm via proximity and was happy to feel the Anger slowly drain away. They couldn't do much about the other emotions but the Anger was defiantly a direct result of the corruption.

"Oomph!" Danny's thoughts were interrupted by a weight landing on their back. "Hello to you too. Why are you trying to suffocate me, this fine afternoon?"

"I Know" There was something smug in her voice.

"Know what?" Danny gave a half hearted attempt to dislodge the Little Shadow but she only readjusted and they gave up with a huff.

"Hex." Danny stiffened and made to sit up, Cass easily slid off them and sat next to them.

"How?" Danny observed her, she was calm and didn't look or feel upset, they were rather confused about the Happy/Smug/Mistchief she was unknowingly giving off.

"Was following Red Hood, He was acting strange. Good strange but strange. Saw Hex use Sign for Me. Only you use Swan sign but Hex used Swan and Hood say Black Bat!" She really looked proud of herself. They had figured out the Bats were the Waynes almost immediately after seeing Nightwing do a quadruple flip and Black Bat's Liminalty gave her away as Cass.

"Ok, fine I'm Hex... What now?" They looked at her curiously. 

"Keep secret. Not tell Bats, yet." Danny watched as she seemed to hesitate before continuing in sign. They froze as they watched her hands. "Bats found the Ecto-Act, Big bat is not happy and is investigating how no one found it before. He also wants to know why he was not told and if calls to the Justice League was made."

Danny sighed and flopped back into the couch. turning to look at Cass they decided to tell he the parts of their story they left out the last time. Seems help was coming sooner than they expected. This changed a few things but over all? It was good. They felt Cass snuggle into their side. Danny glanced at her and smiled before grabbing their phone and ordering takeout. Seems they were having a stay in day. They might ask for the nigh off from Hood if Cass doesn't have patrol, they could watch movies and dance. Yeah, that sounds good.

Chapter 9: Stalker meet Stalker

Hex hid in the shadows, ever observant as they waited for their chance to make an appearance. During their observation and information gathering, in order to guarantee a way into Hoods gang, they had noticed the source of the main reason they were in this Cursed city was coming from the Red Bird. So every chance they got, Hex would go out and follow the Red Bird to figure out if the tugging was coming from him specifically or from an object he was carrying. The Red Bird was currently wrapping up an attempted robbery. Hex leaned back on the ledge, rubbing a hand over their chest where they knew their core rested. The tugging was more frantic now that they were so close to figuring it out. A click got their attention and they realised all the thugs had been secured and the Red Bird was getting ready to continue his patrol.

'There!' Hex jumped to the next roof, landing just as Red Robin swung over the ledge. Hex watched as the Bird paused and settle into a well hidden ready stance as he took notice of the fact he wasn't alone.

*****

"Who are you?" Tim kept his focus on the unknown as he subtly clicked the alert on his belt. It would let the others know he had encountered an unknown but to hold back until they are confirmed to be hostile. The unknown tilted their head to the side as they slowly lifted their hands, Tim watched as they began to sign.

"They call me Hex. You have something I've been looking for." Hex leaned against the large vent, hands still visible.

Tim waited but when they didn't continue, he shifted into a more relaxed stance. "And what would that be?" 

Tim watched as they slumped slightly, giving the impression they were sighing. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Tim raised a brow at that. "Then how do you know I have what you want?"

Hex straitened a little before signing. "Something... Something lead me to this city, something was tugging me here. If it wasn't for that feeling, I never would have stepped foot in this Cursed City. But... certain circumstances left me a lot of free time and the tugging grew near painful. So, I followed it, it lead me to this city, it lead me to you. I had no idea if it was an object or a person." Tim watched as they stretched and straitened fully, shifting to face Red Robin straight on. Tim tensed, as he straightened up himself. "Now standing so close, I can tell the pull is coming from you, you directly, not something on your person. Now, I'm left with the question. 'Why?'."

Tim flinched at the sudden sound of Hex's voice. It was distorted and sounded like it was overlayed by static. He was quick to fall into a more ready stance. "So what now? You going to try capture me to figure it out?"

"No." Red Robin watched as Hex took a step back. "I know what, or rather who, the pull is coming from. Now, I need to figure out Why and How but it's clear you know nothing about it."

With that Red Robin watched as Hex flipped back and over the edge of the roof. Tim gave chase slamming into the roof top barrier and peered over the edge but there was no one there. Hex had vanished. A click from his comms had him snapping to attention. Tapping his comm once he connected to the private channel. "Red, Report."

"The unknown has left, they are apparently in Gotham because something lead them here. They were following it and, according to them, it lead them to me. They don't appear hostile, just someone searching for answers." Tim unlatched his grapple hook. "I believe it would be best to observe but do not engage in case that changes."

"Hn, can I leave this to you Red? Or should I put one of the others on this?" Tim took aim at the next roof. 

"I'll be involved either way." Tim shot his grapple. "But I'll take a back seat on this one, do the paperwork and research, if they make contact again, then I'll put it on a higher priority. O.G.J.J. takes precedence."

"Don't push yourself Red. I'd rather you stepped back from anything involving the Joker." With a tug to insure it was secure, Tim stood on the ledge and swung through the Gotham night, landing on the buildings gravel top. 

"I know B. But it's my case, I'll see it through." Silence fell on the comms. Aim, shoot, check and fly. Red robin soared though Gotham, watching out for any petty crimes or signs of trouble as he did a final lap of his patrol route.

"We're here, I'm here if you need help. Don't forget that Son." The Comms clicked signalling Batman had switched back to the main channel.

Tim's breath hitched as he drew in a deep breath. "I know Dad, I know."

Tim shook himself before making his way through the city and towards his bike. His thoughts on his current case and the new mystery. It would seem he'll be needing a new Pin Board.

*****

Danny narrowed their eyes as they watched the Red Bird fly away. Their Core gave a particularly hard yank as they watch him disappear behind the taller buildings. 'Just what is your connection to me Birdie.' Danny sighed as he thought of just Who the Red Bird is behind the mask. Slinking further into the shadows, Hex vanished into the night. 

*****

"And just where have you been?" His tone was light but the hint of accusation was clear in Hoods voice. Jason watched as Hex slipped into his office and made themself comfortable on one of the couches, stretching out like a particularly satisfied cat. Giving the kid a once over, he gave a mental nod of satisfaction, noting they had no visible or obvious injuries. The kid sat up and began signing.

"Here and there, I got the information you wanted." Hex once again pulled a file out of nowhere and tossed it at him. Jason caught it and was quick to open it and go over the information. Remnants of the Black Mask gang had been seen gathering recently and Jason didn't feel like waiting for them to become a problem. 

"What else were you up to?" Jason looked up from the file to pin Hex with a look. Though the Hood hid it. Hex sat up and pulled their legs up to sit cross-legged, staring right back at Red Hood.

"Bird watching, the red one has caught my interest, seems he has a connection to what I'm looking for." Hex sighed and slumped back into the couch. "After observing him and having a little chat... I have an idea as to what it is but not the how or the why he is connected."

"Whatever it is, it's not gonna cause trouble or put the Bird in danger." It wasn't a question, the threat was clear.

"I don't know. I hope not but with the way my life is going..." Jason observed the way Hex had hunched in on themself. The kid was good at what they do and Jason new the kid truly wanted to help more but something was haunting them, following them from wherever they came from. Jason waited for them to continue. "I have a few theories but I'm not liking any of them or the tapestry they are threading because if I'm right. Then if it weren't for my mother dumping me on my Donor My life could have gone so differently. And I would never have wished my life on another I would have died of guilt if I ever found out."

"Just let me know if you need help, or at least give a heads up if you think things will go south. I may be on the fringes but the Bats and Birds are still allies, nothing better happen ta' Red, yeah hear." Jason turned and headed for his desk, he had plans to make. As he sat down he heard a scuff and looked up. Hex was standing in front off his desk, rocking on their heels. "Ya' need something?"

"I'll be taking the next two nights off, I'll be out of town for a date" Jason felt his brow raise at that. The kid has partner? Huh, would you look at that.

"Oh? Where ya' goin' and who's the unfortunate soul?" Jason smirked at the offended huff he received from the kid.

"1st, None of you business Boss and 2nd, Black Bat." Before Hood could react, Hex had vaulted over the couch and slipped out the door. By the time Jason had gotten up and to the door, Hex was gone.

"Get back 'ere ya' Rat!" Hood yelled down the hall, even knowing it would be useless. "Damn Brat!"

*****

Cass paused in her packing when her phone started blasting 'I'm a Barbie Girl'. Tilting her head in curiosity, she set down the shirt she was folding and went to pick it up. Jason? Why's he calling so late? Sliding her finger over the screen to answer, she quickly held it up to her ear, only to yank it back as Jason's voice blasted through. She stared down at her screen until silence returned before holding it back to her ear. "Done?"

"No, but I've calmed down enough to talk." She hummed as she moved back to her bag. "Are you dating Hex?"

Cass blinked, Did Danny tell him? "Yes."

"Okay, okay. So how do you know my informant?" She could hear Jason shuffling things around and the faint clicks of mental against each other. Probably cleaning his guns. 

"Met them first. became friends." She picked up the shirt and another, as she held her phone to her ear with her shoulder, and held it up to compared the two. "Followed them, learned about Hex. Went on date. Been together 3-4 weeks, more if you count hiding feelings."

"Does anyone else know?" Cass thought about it, she hadn't told anyone, neither had Danny, until now, as far as she knew. she shrugged and packed the green shirt. She noticed Danny liked seeing her in their colors.

"No." Silence fell and she went about packing the last of her things, just as she was zipping up her bag, Jason spoke up again.

"They treating ya' good?" She smiled at the very obvious and familiar tone of protectiveness in his voice.

"Yes, very good." She bit back a giggle at the resigned sigh. She fell quiet for moment before whispering. "They are good. Grew up like me, like you. They are hiding but fighting. They are strong."

She could hear Jason's breath hitch. "Okay, I won't ask. I'm happy for you Cass. You think they'll open up more and start interacting with the other Bats and Birds?"

"Yes, they are searching for something. Something will happen but we will be on their side." They were silent for another moment. "They are willing to ask, to trust but need time."

"No pushing, I got it. Bye Cass, have fun on you date!" The line went dead as Cass blushed only for it to deepen as she felt arms wrap around her and fluffy black hair tickle her neck.

"Big brother being over protective?" Cass nod, a shiver ran down her spine as Danny's lips brushed the skin off her shoulder. "You think he'll try to kill me when we get back."

"No. Make you work more." She felt their breath as they let out a groan but giggled as she felt their lips tilt up in a grin.

"It's worth it." Danny spun her around and started leading her into a dance as 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight' began playing softly from her speakers. She let them twirl her around her room before pulling them onto her bed.

"Shouldn't be here." She giggled at their pout. "Brothers, dad, grandpa Alfred and Steph are here. Steph doesn't knock. Dick knocks but will get suspicious if I take too long to answer.

Danny sighed as they flopped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. "Hood knows, the others will find out eventually."

"True." She flipped over so she hovered over them."Brothers will give chase if they find you here. Damien is stabby, Dick will hunt. Tim... depends on sleep level. Dad will try to lock me away and will hunt. Alfred will be disappointed."

"So they are fine with you being at my house but not me being in your room?" They raised a brow at her in amusement and she huffed before letting her full weight full onto them. "Oompf! Oi! There’s nothing to worry about. I'll just turn invisible until they leave."

Before she could reply her door was flung open and she found herself face planting her bed. "Hey Cass... What're you doing?"

Cass rolled over and sat up to see Steph in her doorway. "Resting."

"Ah-huh... I was gonna ask if you want to watch a movie and hangout. Since you're leaving tomorrow?" Cass watched as Steph looked around her room, poking at random things as she went.

"Ok, be down now." Cass made a show of picking up the things that didn't make it into her bag, Steph made a sound of agreement and left, swinging the door shut behind her. A minute passed before Danny blinked back into visibility.

"You weren't kidding when you said she doest knock." Cass thew a shirt at their face, which they promptly phased through. "OK, ok. I'll see you tomorrow."

Danny pulled her towards them and places a kiss on her forehead before drifting to the window and fading into invisibility with a wave. She shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

*****

Tim stared at the fifth board, then at the other four and groaned as he slumped into his chair. Hex was an unknown but asking around and looking up sightings he found they're working with Red Hood and showed up a few weeks after Daniel Napier. Tim stood and dragged the new board over to the others. It would seem that Hex was just another identity for one Daniel Napier.

"Just who are you? And what do you want?!" Tim ran his hands through his hair in frustration and sighed. Looks like he's going to be more involved than he thought.

[namenoted]

❝ i'm sure my absence seemed pretty abrupt. it's what everyone on campus is talking about right now. me being back, where i was. everyone keeps asking ... but ... actually, though? i wanted to talk to you ... ❞

for some reason. even yagami can't put his finger on it, but one of the first things he did when he got his phone back (and out of sight from prying panda eyes) was text the raven-haired girl from school.

❝ i just wanted to say ... i'm sorry for leaving you hanging like that. that wasn't my intention. ❞ that feels lame, wrong even.

because, in truth, he feels like he owes her an explanation for something. something he just cannot quite grasp. it's on the cusp of his tongue, like he's ready to say it, but the words are unable to form, and thus all he can muster is an apology that even sounds a bit dull coming from him. he doesn't even really know what he's apologizing for.

HERE IS THE REALITY: the investigation is at a standstill. nothing is progressing. they can't find kira. studying the yotsuba group has provided enough context to keep the case alive ... but little beyond that. after the task force's probing, yotsuba clammed up and sold most of their assets outright, muddying their stocks and investments along the way, and then the company dispersed itself entirely before L could even try to pull the plug.

finding them all as individuals has been tough, and L was certain up until this point of three things in absolute:

kira is operating within yotsuba ... and that yagami raito was kira at one point in time, likely the original, and presumably gave up his powers to someone else. this power was somehow also given to amane misa, but was taken away, leaving her in much the same position as yagami. it sounds plausible, right?? it sounds too plausible. even with how damning it felt to be put on the spot, yagami had to admit ... he wondered. am i kira? is ryuzaki (is L) right?

still, there's no proof. without his memories, yagami is admittedly only as good as he is normally.

which is pretty outstanding, he would argue, as he's been pretty invaluable, if not a bit argumentative, up until this point. and agreeable, he would further insist. extremely so, given the circumstances i was put in.

his wrist is healing from the chaffing of the cuffs, but a thin red line remains for now. yagami rubs at it absentmindedly, sighing to himself before looking back up to her.

her. jabami yumeko. he knows her, even remembers her, but it's all so ... limited. limited in its scope of what they truly are. he remembers conversations of idle passing — exchanges about their families, dinner invitations, walking the campus together.

but that's where it ends. at least, he thinks it does.

ask him about the ship of theseus and his answer might be different now.

❝ this sounds crazy, but i feel like ... i missed a lot, right? while i was away. but, like, it's more than that, you know? i was hoping maybe you could fill me in? that we could go out together? ❞

i know we used to. i wish i could remember what we talked about. i wish i could remember why i need to see you. all i know is ... i just do. — @snakedevour

[debsarcasticplight]

Starlight

The Impala rumbles to a halt outside The Starlight Motel, its tired engine sighing in relief. Dean leans back in the worn leather seat, rubbing his eyes, exhausted. The road has started to take its toll on Dean despite him having made this trip countless times before. After nearly a decade, his journey here and back again has become the only ritual that keeps him connected to his past and the one person still holding a piece of his heart.

Stepping out of the car, Dean can't help but glance around, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The Starlight Motel hasn't changed much over the years. It’s still the same dingy, run-down place where he and Cas first met, spent countless hours as kids, and dreamt about escaping from someday.

Dean makes his way to the front desk, the bell above the door jingling softly as he pushes it open. The desk clerk, a tired-looking woman with bleach-blonde hair and bright red lipstick, removes an unlit cigarette from her lips before offering him a half-hearted smile. 

"Can I help you?" she asks, her voice heavy with boredom.

"Yeah," Dean replies, pulling out his wallet and tossing a few crumpled twenties onto the counter. 

"I need a room for a couple of nights."

"Okay, you're in #12," The clerk says, taking the money and handing Dean a key with very little investment.

Dean nods and heads for the lobby, the worn carpet muffling his footsteps. It's early November, but there are still a few flimsy-looking Halloween decorations strewn around in the corners of the motel. Just another subtle reminder that time keeps marching, regardless of whether anyone’s ready to start letting go. Room 12 is just like every other room in the place—barely functional, but it has a bed and a shower, which is all he really needs.

Dean tosses his duffel bag onto the bed and lets out a long sigh. He knows he has to check on Cas next. Doing so has become a routine for him, a way to ease his conscience, even though Dean’s never sure what he will find. Dean’s been renting Cas a room at the Starlight Motel year-round since he left, figuring it's the least he can do for the guy. Cas has a tendency to move around a lot, seeking out the sketchiest people while chasing his next high. At least this way, Dean can try to help his friend retain some semblance of home, even if it's back here, of all places.

Pulling out his phone, Dean scrolls until he finds his favorite picture: two young boys, their eyes wide with anticipation and ready for whatever life has in store. Although the original photo was taken many years ago, Dean can't help keeping a digital copy purely for sentimental value.

Holding a breath, Dean taps "Call" as a pit of concern opens up beneath his ribs. He’s got six different phone numbers for Cas currently, and it's always a gamble whether any of them will even go through.

"Hello?" Cas's voice crackles over the line, already sounding very far away.

"Hey, Cas," Dean says, trying to keep his voice casual. 

"It's me."

There is a long pause before Cas replies.

"Back again so soon, Dean?"

Dean runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to steady his breathing.

"Naw, you know me, I’m just passing through. But I thought I'd call and see how you're doing."

"You know how I'm doing, Dean." Cas states, his voice thick with bitterness. 

Dean winces at the truth in his friend's words. Knowing all too well how much Cas has struggled for years now, battling demons Dean still doesn’t fully understand. They had been close once, more so than anyone could’ve imagined, but life has taken them down different paths.

"Listen," Dean begins, 

"I rented myself a room at The Starlight for a few nights. Why don't you swing by? I’ll order us some pizza and maybe restock your fridge. We can catch up."

Cas hesitates, and for a moment, Dean thinks he might actually say no. 

"Okay, Dean. I'll be there." Cas says, sounding defeated.

Dean hangs up and lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. He knows he can't save Cas or fix the mess that is his life. But he also can't find it in himself to walk away either. Not after everything they have been through.

Dean leaves his room, returning to the front desk once more. When he requests an extra copy of Cas's room key, the clerk hands it over without question. She’s seen this all before, the two of them coming and going like ghosts.

Back in his room, Dean sits on the edge of the bed and stares out the window. The parking lot is empty, save for a few beat-up-looking cars. The neon sign of The Starlight flickers and buzzes, casting an eerie glow over everything.

Dean can't help but think back to his and Cas’s origins as he waits. They had been inseparable as kids, each other's lifelines in a world that seemed determined to tear them apart. They had even dated briefly, an awkward and confusing experiment in teenage love. Then Sam died, Dean left town, and Cas stayed behind to pick up the pieces alone. Even now, after all these years, the wrongs of the past haunt Dean, while the present feels no less bleak. But he’s determined to be there for Cas, no matter how impossible the task seems. For the sake of the man he once loved and probably still does, Dean knows he has to at least try.

[yacinthemorning]

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 4

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hyrbid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting

“Are you sure you cannot stay another few weeks?” Jimmy pleaded. “I’m sure Lizzie would love to have you at her party. We barely got to speak.”

Pearl took her mended clothing with a muttered thank you and handed it to Gem, who was packing all of it away into their bags. “As nice as it is to visit my dear little brothers, our competitors won’t sit around waiting on a good bounty to make it fair. Besides, pretty soon we’ll be leeching off Grian if we stick around.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it. Stashed away in some labyrinthian caves in the desert was likely more hard cash than even Grian had in the bank and tied up in investments combined. Unless she retired, however, it went unspoken. Hopefully retired, at least.

In any case, it had cooled down enough from the heat wave for her to wear her favourite dark blue duster, now hemmed an inch shorter and sporting new buttons. With her wide-brimmed hat and large boots, she looked like a true gunslinger. All the more terrifying when she would circle overhead like a vulture, as Gem enjoyed bragging.

“Well, stop by the sheriff’s office before you leave, then. I’m sure False has a bounty or two for folks who ran off into the desert.” Grian said. “Heavens knows no one else comes this way to pick them up.”

With a grin and a yank at something sticking out of her satchel Gem happily informed them, “Oh, we know. Already taken care of!” The poster was worn from age, damaged and sun bleached, leaving the name ‘Orion’ almost illegible. It was a young man, looking absolutely ridiculous in a theatre costume, with the sort of smile a kid wore before pulling his sister’s pigtails. There was a moderate bounty of 100 diamonds, alive, listed. Scamming and conman activities were the man’s only crimes. If that was the bar these days, then Scar should have been arrested years ago.

Actually, he simply should have been arrested years ago, period.

But Jimmy put that thought aside for now. At that moment Gem and Pearl were locking up their luggage to take out to the horses. Tango waited outside with the beasts, patting down their snouts. His tail danced behind him whenever they nudged into his palm.

A smile crept up onto Jimmy’s face as he approached. “Keeping them company? Or just avoiding luggage?”

“Do you need help?” Tango quickly jumped to attention. It was a curious habit of his, making himself as available as possible. If Jimmy had to guess, it was to do with those awful mines. 

Wherever it originated, he wasn’t about to entertain it. “Not at all. I was just wondering where you ran off to.”

“Oh, well, I figured you’d all be wanting a last moment with the family.” Shrugged the blazeborn, shrinking in on himself.

Pearl let out a squawk, a warning that whatever she was about it say, Jimmy would be the one to regret it. “Well what, are you saying you’re not part of the flock? You got your talons in Jim’s feathers, I figured.”

“Pearl!” Jimmy shrieked, turning beet red. Why was he always right?

Tango gave a lopsided grin in reply. “Not yet, ma’am. That job’s still a work in progress.”

“Tango!”

“Well, when you get around to making this silly man less lonely, do be sure to send a letter.” Her eyes softened.

After her words Jimmy tuned out the rest of the stressful conversation until it came to an end. Bags packed and brothers humiliated, Pearl leapt up onto her steed and waved them off. “We’ll be back for the holidays, I reckon. Good luck and good bye!” She said, backed by a giggle and wave from Gem.

It was silent as they watched the two women ride off into the scrublands, until Grian squawked with a pout. “Good riddance! If she’d stayed any longer then I’d be the one on a bounty poster.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes, patting his brother’s shoulder. “Well, you have a good day doing whatever it is you do to wring money from the poor, I have to finish the mayor’s dress.”

A colourful wing flitted through the air by Jimmy’s head. “Off back to your burrow with you, then.”

“Y’both so dramatic.” Sighed Mumbo behind his parasol, to which he received a pair of indignant squawks. 

 -

“Your family really are theatrical.”

Jimmy pursed his lips, not looking up from the sewing machine. Though it’d been several days he was still getting used to the contraption. Most unfortunately, since it was homemade it lacked a manual, and Tango had a talent for explaining everything in too much detail to where Jimmy understood little of it. Still, the gift was a godsend, allowing him to finish the most tedious work that would take hours within minutes. “Why do you say that?” Jimmy asked while he finished lining a pocket.

Tango rocked back until his hair rested against the desk. What had he been working on again? An aether clock? “You don’t make many chirps or tweets around town, but whenever you’re together it’s like a morning chorus.”

“Well, apologies.” He huffed. A bit pointedly he set the pocket aside.

“I don’t mean it like that.” Tango attempted to backpedal. It wouldn’t work on Jimmy, and he should know better. “It’s cute.” He gave a sharp-toothed grin, eyes narrowed with honest affection.

Okay, so perhaps it worked a little.

Jimmy kept his eyes away, rummaging through his button drawer. “Of course when speaking with other avians we would communicate in our own way. Do you not do so with other blazeborn?”

“There aren’t any other netherborn in Tumble Town.”

Right. There were at most three hundred folks, including the miners, of course there were no other netherborn. If there was, Jimmy would not be in the predicament that led to Tango remaining with him to begin with.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly stuttered, to which Tango waved him off.

“It’s not a big deal, I didn’t know many other blazeborn even back in the Nether.”

Swallowing his guilt to make room for curiosity, Jimmy asked. “Do you not have a flock? Even back across the way?”

Hackles rose, figuratively and literally, and the air became a bit tense. There was an unspoken law among the cowboys and frontiersmen. Never follow a man’s steps in the sands, backwards or forwards . They were all reborn when they first walked into Main Street.

Yet Jimmy couldn’t help himself. It is, perhaps, that he was not quite cut out for frontier life like Pearl or Fwhip, who took full advantage of its lifestyle. He was simply a mediocre tailor with a bad habit of sticking his nose where it likely didn’t belong. Instead, he toyed with the button in his hand, waiting to be told to mind his business.

Tango shuffled, contemplating the question, Or, more likely, contemplating if he would bother to answer. It was just as Jimmy was preparing to apologize and change the subject that Tango spoke up. “I never had a pyre before. Only here, only Impulse, Zed, and… uh, you?” He muttered the last bit uncertainly, eyeing the avian for permission to speak the words.

Jimmy nodded, though his cheeks darkened. Out of the corner of his eye Tango’s tail flicked out, glowing just a bit brighter.

“Yeah.” Tango sniffed. “I guess it’s part o’ why I’m here. Land of opportunities and all that. Hard to get anywhere on your own everywhere, though, I guess.” 

Warmed button still in hand, Jimmy palmed his cheek and rested his elbow on the desk, examining his companion. A shiver ran through his wings, feathers fluffing. “I suppose it’s because we’re not meant to be alone.”  He mused with a smile.

He got a raised eyebrow and snorted in return, though a smile did form as well. “I like that idea a lot better than the one I had…”

“There can be multiple truths.”

“I suppose… What about you, Sunshine?” Tango’s head swivelled towards the windows where sunset was beginning to pour through.

“What about me? You’ve met my siblings.”

“Is that all, though?”

“Mmm…” Jimmy lulled his head into his hand. “We flew the coop, so to speak, and so ‘before’ no longer matters. Sheriff False is certainly flock. I’m not particularly close with her, but Grian and Pearl say she is.”

“So, it’s a group decision?” Curiosity danced in Tango’s eyes.

“Yes. There’s flock, and then there’s nests within the flock.” Though, in his case, he only had a flock. Unlike his brother, who was making a collection of watery-eyed strays doing their best to run his coffers dry, Jimmy was just fine on his own. So much for the dependable eldest and bumbling youngest.

Tango hummed, “I see.” A soft breeze rattled the windows, drawing attention to the darkened twilight. Something seemed on Tango’s mind with no intent to share. Instead, he turned a sheepish smile on Jimmy. “Pyre’s not quite the same. It’s a personal affair.”

Jimmy nodded absently, still searching for an answer. “Most hybrids’ terms differ greatly in meaning. Mayor Lizzie would be no mayor if not for such a misunderstanding.”

“What?” A laugh burst from Tango.

Jimmy joined him. “I suppose you weren’t here when it happened. She became mayor not long after her arrival. There was none before her. We’re such a small community. She was quite friendly, supportive, curious to learn about everyone. We thought ‘ Oh, how welcoming, despite being the one who is new, treating everyone with such investment. Surely, she’s a natural born leader.’ ”

Tango seemed barely able to contain his amusement. “Mhm?”

“What a bunch of landfolk in the scrubs didn’t know was that, in fact, a school is much less intimate than a flock or a pyre. A woman who was simply scouting out her new school became confused for a campaign from a very respectable candidate and, well… the next month we had a mayoral office.”

“Amazing.” He let out a short wheeze, shaking his head. “Only out here.” The sparks of amusement in his hair were the only thing which lit the desk now.

“Indeed. Though, she has done a splendid job for the most part.” Jimmy sighed and stood up. As he flipped the sign on the door and closed the shutters Tango pulled out a lamp. One of his many homemade projects, a simple twist of a nob had redstone spark the glowstone within. Not a personal invention, much like the sewing machine, but a luxury universal only to the coast. Only a few lamps in Jimmy’s house had yet to be converted, and he couldn’t deny the convenience.

Convenient. There was the word he might use to describe his life recently, ever since they met. Chores were done quicker, work was easier. Jimmy refused to take money from Tango, but he found loopholes around it by paying for groceries and things such as the lamps.

It flickered, casting light enough that they could easily continue work. A month ago, he would have been ecstatic to do just that. “How did the stew look?” He absently asked instead.

“Ready whenever we are.” Tango replied, picking the lamp up. It seemed almost dull placed next to his inviting smile.

His eyebrow rose and long claws reached out towards Jimmy. They poked at his cheek and a pressure he had not noticed released. Held up to the light was a small button. “You’re starting to become your clothes.” He teased.

A quiet trill vibrated in Jimmy’s throat, “I suppose that means I should stop for tonight, then.”

“I suppose so.”

 -

Curtains pulled back, and out walked Lizzie. Silks shimmering between violet and azure draped over her petticoat, bundled to meet an as-of-yet undecorated neckline. Despite its incompleteness it flattered her figure to perfection. Pride swelled in Jimmy’s chest. Beside him, Tango let out a low whistle, while at his other side Joel had an expression as if it was the first time he’d laid eyes on her all over again. The mayor let out a shy giggle, spinning slowly to let the watery silk flow around her with the long fins of her tail.

“Oh, Jimmy, it looks absolutely wonderful!” She cooed as he approached to adjust a draping. Though it was yards more material than he was used to thanks to her great stature, it made it much easier to see what needed to be done.

His feathers puffed up, nodding vigorously in agreement. “I was terrified how it might come out, but this may be the best piece I’ve made so far.”

“Thank you so, so much for this.”

“Is the neckline low enough? Not too snug?” Jimmy asked, leaning past her shoulder to check the lacing and buttons were in place.

Lizzie shifted, her large tail swaying underneath, its moisture safe from the sun and unabsorbed by the ocean silk. Gills flexed along her neck and chest as a test. “I don’t believe so, no. All gills accounted for.”

A hand smacked into Jimmy’s shoulder, nearly knocking him over. Tango snickered. “Relax, Jimmy, you did amazing! You’re gonna put a kink in your neck if you don’t slow down.”

“Oh, he’s just a proud little birdie.” Lizzie joined in on the teasing, cupping Jimmy’s face to give it a small shake. The small down running across the crest of his cheek flared to avoid her hands’ beaded webbing. If a childish whine left him then he would deny it. 

He stepped back to survey his work one more time. Joel approached to whisper something to his wife which made her expression soften. Delicately she bent down to give her husband a peck, first on his forehead, then lips, and whispered something back. If Jimmy strained his ears forward he could have easily captured their words, but he kept his feathers rested. Something warm strained at his chest forcing even his gaze away.

The fitting continued. Conversation devolved from work into gossip as soon as Joel had made the mistake of mentioning the young shepherd at the other end of town and the proclaimed medium she had living on her property.

“Katherine swears by her seances, she says she spoke to her grandmother!” Lizzie insisted, making a wide arm gesture that nearly tore the fabric out of Jimmy’s hand.

Joel seemed less amused, shaking his head. “All that occult nonsense is just a con, no more reliable than Scar’s cure-alls.”

Hurt and betrayed, she turned to Jimmy with a plea for support. His wings twitched uncomfortably, and he kept his eyes on his adjustment work instead. “I suppose… If it hurts no one, it’s harmless either way.”

“It sounds like fun!” Tango interjected. To Jimmy’s surprise, there was a bright spark of fascination in his eyes. It received a pleased tail slap from Lizzie, which caught the hem of her dress and pulled a bit too roughly. He needed to shorten it just a bit further, it seemed.

“I took you for a man of science, Tango, not faith and spirits.” Joel vocalized for them both.

The blazeborn shrugged. “Well, if spirits exist, then what’s more scientific than contacting and speaking to them yourself? And besides, what’s science matter to a bit of fun?”

Lizzie let out a pleased, bubbly sound, looking between the three men. “Oh, yes! You understand perfectly! Joel, we should meet with Katherine and ask her to host a seance for us. We could speak to my father!”

“Yes, dear.” His words came out exasperated, but an amused smile rested on his face. Once again, he focused down on his work instead. His wings twitched in agitation at the completed draping rumpled by his talon. The work had been done a while ago.

“… Jimmy?” 

“Hm?” His head shot up, looking with Tango’s gaze, wrinkled in the corners by amusement.

“Would you like to go with them?” He repeated, presumably.

Jimmy’s wings tighten around his shoulders. “Oh, I don’t really have anyone to contact.”

“I don’t think you need to.” Tango’s tail curled, expression wilting into something softer. “If it’s not interesting to you, though-”

“No, we can go.” He assured. “It… may be fun.”

“Splendid!” Lizzie clapped, beaming. “We’ll set up the seance and tell you the date on our way back. I can’t wait!”

 -

“Are you sure you want to go?” Tango asked once their customers left. “We don’t have to if you’re not interested.”

Jimmy was in the middle of carefully placing Lizzie’s dress back upon the mannequin, stopping to lock eyes with the other man so he might be assured. “I have nothing against going. If it would be fun for you, then we should.”

He shook his head, fiddling with the cuff of his work shirt. “You don’t have to go just for my sake.”

“No, that’s…” Jimmy’s voice wandered away with his thoughts. Recollections of earlier, of the whispers and fond gazes. “I enjoy you enjoying yourself.” He finally said, becoming a bit pink from his fumbled words.

A darkness dusted over Tango’s cheeks as well, but it disappeared under one of his radiant smiles. “I do, too. Enjoy you enjoying yourself.” He whispered back. Jimmy was unsure if he was intended to hear it, but he had, and it wreaked further havoc on the warmth in his chest.

“We should get back to work.” He stuttered, rushing his pace back to his desk, hoping there was something he needed from it that would distract him. Anything, besides confronting the fond gaze he could feel on his back.

[bedofthistles]

Flowers - Moonacre Week 2024

Robin had never wanted to be farther away from a place more than Moonacre Valley! If he had anything to say about it! Oh, if it were up to him! 

Of all the foolish-!

But of course he would lose his father, the house that was entitled to him, and all sanity in one fell swoop! 

It was not enough that the only thing that was not repossessed by those vultures was a damn book about some sordid history that had little the do with him! It was not enough that his bastard of an Uncle had fallen to alcoholism, and was so touchy about any and everything Robin said that he erupted at the boy! No! 

It was not enough that the man had restricted the places he could travel - as if he were still a lad! - and forbid him to go into the forest, no there had to be bandits there as well! And not just bandits, the girl who had afforded him a new scar. 

“You!” he hissed, glaring at the girl, but she looked different today. Gone were the men’s clothing, but she was not dressed properly in any sense either. A long, velvet dress, without a fashionable bustle of any kind, gloves nor bonnet. 

He didn’t pay much attention to the three others, who wore similar dress as she when she had attempted to rob his carriage. 

“You’re not supposed to be here.” One of them said, but before Robin could respond, the girl interjected. 

“Tell my father to invest in a better blacksmith.” She spoke clearly, and despite everything Robin knew of her, like a lady. 

“Tell him yourself, he’ll be here soon.” 

Robin had half a mind to draw the pistol tucked away in his breast pocket, “Is that supposed to scare me?”

The boys around him laughed rather mockingly, but of course they would. To them, he was just some mincing nincompoop of a londier with silk stockings and pomade in his hair. 

“Oh no,” The girl smirked, “He’s just dying to make your acquaintance.” 

But then his Uncle’s black hound came bounding over the hills, and it seemed they were more scared of the dog than Robin. Which was an insult in and of itself. The girl stood, stock still until one of the boys called out her name. 

But for a moment, she stood between the trees, staring at him. 

“Maria, c’mon!” 

Wrolf began to lick Robin’s hand, and he offered the old dog a scratch behind the ear. “You old demon, you.” He said almost fondly. 

But then he went home - to the Manor, which was not home - only to be scolded for travelling out of bounds. 

“Don’t lie.” His Uncle glared, his cheeks flushed and Robin knew he had given into his vices once more. Sir Benjamin leaned forward and plucked a pine needle from his coat. “You’re just as bad as-”

“What?” Robin demanded, when Sir Benjamin had cut himself off. 

“Your father! He wouldn’t listen to me, would he? And you- you’re just as stubborn as he was.” Sir Benjamin’s red rimmed eyes narrowed. “You’ll destroy yourself.” 

“My father was a fool who let himself waste away!” 

The pistol had been a gift. 

Originally, Robin had thought it was expensive, an example of fine weaponry, but he learned the truth too late. It was won in a duel, the first warning George Merryweather had. One of his debtors, upon learning he had not the funds, tried to take his life. George was a good shot. But George had more than one debt to pay to one man. 

It was a dead man’s pistol his father had pried from still warm fingers. 

Robin used to believe his father cared about him. 

Sir Benjamin collected himself, but they were far past the false notions of unfamiliarity. “There is nothing to be done.” His face was grim, but Robin knew that Sir Benjamin was not talking about Robin’s disobedience. 

Then there was the fucking horse. 

Marmaduke Scarlet, a funny little man who may or may not have been magic, (Robin was still sceptical) had told him about the Curse, or rather that he needed to finish reading the book. And there within the story lied the reason for everything. The reason the house was falling apart, the reason the families had such bitter hatred towards each other, the reason his father had run away. 

But then… 

But then Mr. Scarlet said, “An invisible horse, a mystical companion, that only appears to the true Moon Princess.” 

“How can that be when I’ve seen it?” Robin asked, his brow furrowed in the way he was taught not to furrow it, the images of a ghostly stallion galloping through the trees. He had thought it was a dream- “Hang on, Moon Princess?” 

“You mean to tell me-?” Mr. Scarlet’s face twisted into one of confoundment. 

“Do you mean to insult me, sir?” 

“No! Not at all! I had simply meant- I assumed-” Mr. Scarlet’s face calmed. “Maria, the daughter to the De Noirs, I had assumed the responsibility would fall to her, but perhaps-” 

“I am not- And this whole place- You’re all insane!” Robin turned and stalked off to his room, it was clear he had no business here. There was no reason for him to remain, no place he belonged. Before dusk came, Robin had deserted the manor, a bag flung over his shoulder, a thousand things running through his mind. After all, it would be the 5,ooo Moon very soon, if his mathematics were accurate, and the whole Valley would be decimated. It was a beautiful place, despite the rampant amount of insanity. 

He walked until morning, and by then he had reached the iron gate, but ever so softly, he heard a voice call his name. 

At first he thought it was Maria, that she had someone tracked him down, but the longer he listened, the more he realised the voice was much too mature to belong to Maria. 

He turned, and there before him was a cave lined with geraniums. 

But damn it all! If the Valley was all but lost, what trouble was there to stay? 

For reasons unknown to him, Robin followed the voice until he was well within the mouth of the cave, when a hand reached out and took hold of his shoulder.

A woman pulled back the hood of an old tattered cloak to reveal her face, and by god did she look like the woman in the painting. 

“Come along.” She said, her voice warm and soothing. 

She was a Moon Princess, and while Robin could not convince her to do anything to try and save the Valley - for she declared she was no longer Moon Princess - she quite convinced him. 

“You have an advantage none of us have, and perhaps that is why the Moon chose you, regardless of your sex.” Loveday said. 

“And what could I possibly have?” 

“You have no hatred in your heart.” Loveday smiled, and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, and he almost didn’t mind that she was treating him more like a child than a man. “You, unlike us, were not born into this family drama, you were not brought up in anger, so perhaps you are the only one of us that can see clearly.” 

“Including yourself?” 

Loveday smiled bitterly, placing her hands in her lap she stared off over the trees and the mountains. “It is precisely why I failed.”

last | next

[hyog-blog]

A Journey to Love I don't even know where to start with this show... spectacular visuals, nearly impeccable writing, breathtaking OST? Anyway, if you still haven't watched it and you love wuxia - do not even think twice, it's one of the really good ones.

It's so cinematic in a way it's been shot - some frames are pure orgasm for the eyes. You can see it in the colours, in the clothes, in all the styles. The music everywhere just fits so RIGHT. Most of the time it's just so good you don't pay attention because it's well-matched, but having watched so many cdramas you just learn to appreciate the not-so-small things that make a masterpiece.

I was pleasantly impressed to find out the plot was original - it's so well-written and you can see the character growth and changes of the leads and many other characters as well. You will find everything here - quirky romance, amazing brotherhood, a load of fresh almost anime-style humor that will get you rolling, proper wuxia mood, lots of murders and killings done in style, lots of plotting, revenge, and a FL courting the ML like I've never seen before XD They're seriously gorgeous together both visually and personality-wise.

A story about killers, heroes, and killer-heroes, as well as rulers, power-hungry royalty, war, the role of a woman in a not-so-modern society, and the badassery that comes with it once a woman does decide to take her destiny into her own hands. The FL, Ren Ruyi, played by Liu Shishi is vicious, strong, professional, stabby, murderous, looks stunning in red, and doesn't think twice when she sees a man she likes. The ML, Ning Yuanzhou, played by Liu Yuning, is tall, handsome (with long legs and a kind heart (c) he-he). Not-so-former leader of the emperor's special force, also stabby, murderous, and looks dashing in a uniform. Their relationship is mature but also cuddly and a bit kinky. Still, they are one of my most favorite CPs out there (and oddly healthy despite their flaws and backgrounds). They just match so well.

Ning's brotherhood of nosy and highly talented boys is truly unmatched both in the looks and gossip department. There is literally no privacy for anyone, there was so much comedy built around that, I didn't know a show could be this good.

Anyway, it's not a detailed review, I'm just trying to vent a little bit having watched the finale. The show did make me cry quite a lot, that happens only when you really get invested in the characters and the plot - and everything is written so well that by the end of it, you're just lost to the amazing production, great acting, and world-building. Just a stunningly made wuxia piece that has a little bit of everything we love so much - romance, revenge, murderous husband and wife, brotherhood, love-love-love, bad guys showing their good sides, the baddest guys getting what they really deserve, lots of heroism, lots of beautiful fights, great music, and a highly entertaining plot.

That's about it for now, I'll probably sing some more praise later, but need to recover after the show's ending first.

[pleasurewellness]

Sunday Kind of F...

It was Monday morning when Ella decided to finally go home. She quickly got dressed, rummaging through the piles of clothes on the floor trying to find her underwear and blouse; she stared at the man in the bed before shuffling out the door, without making a sound. Making her way into the elevator, she stuck her earrings back in each hole, carefully making sure the neighbors didn’t notice her stained neck with tiny love bites made from the previous few nights. Her stockings were ripped, though she didn’t even bother putting them back on. After exiting the elevator she quickly tossed them into a nearby trash can—a devilish smirk on her face, making eye contact with the doorman before flipping her long black hair and making her exit. 

Before hopping on the subway she stopped at a local vendor, chicken over rice with lettuce, tomatoes, and extra white sauce please and thank you. The man behind the greasy stove smiled at her ear-to-ear, pretty girl, for you, $7. She smiled back, handed him a plain $5, and winked before taking her meal and walking to the train. 

When she got home she took a long look in the mirror and admired the bruises, bites, and the way her face had this glow she hadn’t seen since her early 20s. 

After dinner Ella decided to take the dishes while her husband, Elijah, cleared the table. Marvin Gaye was playing on their ceiling speakers, a new investment Ella felt was much needed for the ambiance in the space—of course, the original idea had been conceived by the artist one snowy evening, lounging in the bedroom while Ella modeled her holiday corsets and stockings, gifted by her husband. While scrubbing the large pot, made to hold their bolognese, she looked out on to New York City and became overwhelmed with the love she had for her life, her job, her relationship with her distant-yet-attentive husband. She then looked down, on a younger, more magnetic couple sipping post-dinner wine on their balcony. The young man looked like the artist—her artist. It had been two weeks since she spent the weekend with him, confined in his medium-sized Brooklyn loft. Still scrubbing, she thought about how good it all felt. How good he felt. He made her feel like a dainty college freshman, a feeling she had surely forgotten after all these years experiencing life—experiencing life with Elijah. 

At first she didn’t know if she should go. They had only gone on a few coffee dates, exchanging notes, and talking about growing up in the city. He asked her why she chose to be an art collector, what motivated her and inspired her. Ella glistened with elegance and an unassuming knowledge on Renaissance art, Pop art, and even pornography. She was everything the artist had dreamed of, and more, in a woman—in a partner, for life. And she found him exciting, full of life; an artist with true vision, questionable morals. I mean, he is an artist… she told her closest friend one afternoon over brunch. Before thinking, she agreed to meet him again—this time, at his loft in Brooklyn. At first, she didn’t think anything of it. However, as the day crept closer, she found herself running unusual errands; getting her hair blown out, booking an expensive spa day, getting her nails and toes painted cherry red, waxing her untouched body. It hadn’t occurred to Ella that the last time she had sex was more than six months ago; the last time she felt desired, even longer. It wasn’t the physical act of sex she missed; it was the pining, the waiting, the teasing, the unknown. Ella had always been one for spontaneous activities, it’s what drew Elijah close to her in the beginning. Still scrubbing, she started to struggle with a piece of burnt pasta stuck to the bottom of the pot. It resembled one of the strings to a sculpture in the artist's apartment. She began to think about him, his hair, his hazel-with-a-hint-of-green eyes, his big smile, gapped front teeth; she thought about his fingers, how soft and strong his dark skin was, his clean fingernails; still scrubbing, she thought about his tongue; how he was the first man to suck her own tongue with his—something not even Elijah had shown her; still scrubbing, she thought about how he slowly undressed her when she first walked into his dimly lit apartment, with every question of if he liked what she was wearing he would slowly remove an article, eyes locked with intention; she pined for the way he tongued her ear, gently biting; still scrubbing, she remembered the way he removed  her dress with only his mouth, how he slowly bit off her stockings, accidentally ripping them with excitement, the way he kissed her fresh toes, her fingers, her thighs; still scrubbing, she remembered how good he felt inside of her, her desire now dripping onto her lace thong and shit I hope Elijah doesn’t notice. 

It was a tight pressure she hadn’t felt since she spent a semester abroad in France her junior year of college; where oral sex is a given and the women almost-always cum. Ella had never came with Elijah, maybe once, while they were drunk after a birthday dinner, but she couldn’t remember all that well. Still scrubbing, she pictured his fingers in her mouth, something she never knew she enjoyed until the artist; he showed her how to feel young again, to feel free, to feel ecstasy. 

Damn girl, you think the pot is clean enough? Elijah joked, startling Ella. She flew back and nearly wet the entire kitchen floor with both of her messes—of course, Elijah didn’t notice either of them. Elijah quickly disappeared into the shower, leaving Ella to her imaginative meditation. After debating whether she should stay in her fantasy, Ella decided to join her husband in the shower. To both of their surprises, it was exactly what they needed from one another. They made sweet love in the wet confinements of their rainwater shower. After six sex-free months with Elijah, Ella quickly remembered why she never felt guilty about the artist; the following week, while Elijah was sent on another “business retreat,” Ella decided to visit her Brooklyn-baed artist. 

[whitefluffybearcub]

3/1/2023

— be patient with everything and everyone in this simulated illusion. Everything and everyone is meant to be.

— feelings would arise for being a human but know that it is simulated by an illusion. All and everyone is simulated In this illusion, ultimately everything is an illusion.

At some point, your spirit understands this and you won’t grab onto things so tightly and obsessively anymore.

Let it come. Let it go. Dance the dance if it is fun and if you are willing. Pace with patience and elevate with kindness.

— when one focuses too much on their own ego, it eventually over shadows everything.

— time is a human construct in this simulated illusion. In the human realm, everything has its time, it happens accordingly to its designated divine timings.

Let it be. See it with patience and kindness.

— everything in this reality operates at a frequency and vibration. Anything excessive is automatically a low vibration because it is not in a balance state.

Believe it or not, even the excessive of wealth, fame, power, and ego is low vibrational energy.

If you do not believe it, just watch how any of those destroy whoever has it. See with clarity.

3/2/2023

— time is a human construct. In this human world, anything that needs time, whether it be healing, or else, don’t you see that it really is a lesson of patience.

Your soul wants you to really experience and understand the essence of patience. And it is only here in this frequency that is possible.

— everyday you see people ignoring their conscience but deep down they know they’ve traded ethics for something lower.

Despite everything they still have to answer to karma and their conscience at the end of the day. If rock bottom is what they choose, they shall have it.

— nothing and no one can be in this reality as pure love because it wouldn’t be here in the first place. It would always have its vices as a earth dwelling.

They would even hiss at love and kindness if it catches them at the wrong times. Leave them be.

Part of the designated journey.

— when you over invest yourself, you lose that balance. you are bound to fall.

— in the group of the so called elites , they are linked by the common lack of ethics and same interest of the insidious.

They have to do bad to reach the top yet the bad also becomes their downfall when their master sees fit. They are being played like this.

— a person has to do bad to join the top elite class, the bad becomes blackmail then they live in fear, their purpose becomes fulfilling goals whatever their master tells them to, then more blackmail and threats.

If they resist or want to back out, They dead. And If they keep going, One day they would also become the typical fall from grace in the public eyes when the master deems them useless.

What a game

, that is called karma.

— on each bright and glamorous stage that gather emotions and energy from millions, there is a evil red eyed troll that is controlling behind the scene.

— almost all of the negative thoughts originate from the components of ego. Be reminded that ego is just an illusion.

3/3/2023

Let it be. Let it go. All that happens is meant to be.

Don’t analyze. Don’t over think it. Let go and release.

It is all an illusion.

— even the sorrow, pain, and wound have its time and would eventually vanish, but that is if you are willing to elevate your spirit.

— remember, even an angry face has a backstory of its origin. If you could see it all, the whole picture, you probably would show more mercy, understanding, and kindness.

Judgements and negative reactions often times come from short sighted /short fused temper and ego.

3/4/2023

— as a human, you are not given the ability to see all of the karma, nor absolutely everything of another person, but you are given the ability to always be kind and patient, the only way to elevate in this reality.

— watch the movies as long as it is fun. Do not get over invested. It is all just an illusion.

Look at the ones that amuse you.

— so you exercise your mighty power to try to turn off All the lights but now the candles are lit. There are consequences for overstepping. Everything is karmic.

Ego and control shall be your biggest teacher. You are here to learn about limitations as well, no matter which sides you are on.

— every scenario In the human realm is basically about karma. It is how each experience goes. Up and down.

— there is such an energy that is not allowed creativity. It would always follow the oldest rules In the book. The cosmic and the universe call for this,

But creativity is definitely part of the human expression and experience.

3/5/2023

— in the narrative of evil, no matter which level they are at, each can be designated as a fall guy should their masters deem fit.

The funny thing is that sometimes you can just tell by their faces , as if the term the fall guy is written on their forehead and within their expression.

Just how the story goes.

— when big big money is involved, there is usually no fairness. Energetically, big money is low vibrational as it brings out its same energy peers: ego, greed, jealousy corruption, and deceit. Fairness naturally operates at a higher frequency and vibration, at the same level of honesty, integrity, and honor.

— you know when everyone is obsessed with the same thing here or far away from here, they have cast a spell onto the mass, either for distraction or to conjure up a certain energy. Things aren’t usually what it seems in times like this.

— the money you steal or obtain at the expense of others through deceit, harm, and ego. Do you really think it is karma free? And that your conscience stays absolutely clear?

Karma shall be your biggest teacher but don’t stay blinded forever.

— no matter where you have been. I wish that you would have the encourage to try to elevate, that you would be free from the fear at least for some periods of this journey.

3/6/2023

— there will always be willing audiences so they make theaters. Both sides need to evolve and learn thru this way.

— please be reminded that, everything and everyone in the public arena stage, is trying to sell you something, or to plant ideas into you, unfortunately money is the motivation most of the times, as well as control.

— when everyone is talking about the info they have been fed, you know that itself is a mission accomplished because most of times it is just distractions.

Looky here. See it as long as it is fun but don’t be fixated.

— in this world, to reach a certain level of fame, fortune, power and elitism, you knowingly or unknowingly agree to become a pawn someday for your masters. Even the kings and the queens of this world have to answer to the hand that is controlling them.

— the devil Of this world loves to use honey pot to lure its pawns. A honey pot filled with diseases and poisons.

— when you choose the ways of the evil, know that there can be no genuine love and kindness, not to mention mercy. The devil is not about any of that. Beware that they can trick and lie because they are in that frequency.

3/7/2023

— the funny thing is that , the only thing between you and happiness could be as simple as switching a different way to think and to perceive, at least for many of you.

— see no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.

— when you are meant to not see something, the universe would somehow make you ignore it. It is designated this way.

— if the government cared about all of its people, there would be no wars, there would be no sending its children to die or to be hurt, they would not choose to help people far far away and let its people die in toxicity.

There would be no hunger, no homelessness, always clean water and air.

It is what it is. Some people are here to experience low vibrations no matter how high they reach, how wealthy they become. And you probably wouldn’t believe there is one hand controlling the whole world and all leaders are just chessboard pieces.

You reap what you sow. All is karmic if you are here, no matter what you are. Have fun.

3/8/2023

— a life time of ego, jealousy, exploitation, servitude, anger, obsessions, feeling imprisoned and hopeless. From a human perspective, they deserve mercy the most but in this reality the energy is inverted.

The inverted energy itself is also an expression and experience. What a trip.

— no one is truly harmed in making this ultra thrilling horror movie.

3/9/2023

— no matter how much you focus on a movie, at the end of the day it is just a movie, one of the many. The characters are portrayed by actors, the lines are written, the acts are directed.

Enjoy it, don’t take it too seriously.

— no matter how angry, no matter how insidious, it is just an illusion.

Laugh, find it amusing as it is purposed to be funny. Learn to perceive this way.

— karma is balance.

— in the neon garden of evil, the light can’t be tainted but would be distinguished and put out. The light held on to the path as long as it could.

It was meant to spark bravery, definitely over fear.

— strip away the humanly perception of good and bad, each person and being is simply living its life as an expression among the infinite.

Good and bad is also meant to be for humans because it is a guiding force as well as energy.

3/10/2023

— the pawns lose their will and become puppets. They do not even know what they do. They become the existence to be blamed on.

— it takes evil to know evil. One experiences being evil so that all aspects could be understood.

Once the spirit elevate, they would understand the backstory of all evil, each has a backstory and a reason why, all in the complexity of karma and energy.

The energy of once evil now has elevated and it now has compassion to help other evil to elevate because it understands what it is like. What an interesting place.

— the unconditional love understands everything because it is and has been everything simultaneously and infinitely. It embraces all and loves all.

— let go. Let karma take care of it. Karma is balance.

— do your best. let patience and karma work its magic. Infinite love would take care of it all, have trust and faith.

3/11/2023

— we are given the illusion of individuality and we are all each other’s teachers and helpers. It is not limited to one realm. It happens simultaneously.

— big money, massive fame, powerful control, and giant ego are a bind. It binds one to lower vibrational realm and attracts all low frequency energy.

If that is what one chooses, then each of these would be their greatest teacher. They are really in it for the lesson.

— you find meaning in the games you choose to play, the cults you join, the stars you follow, the lies you speak of, the greed you dive into, the corruption you allow, the harm you do, the control you impose, the ego you sleep with, and perhaps many Of you are bound to these, But there is also meaning in the love you give and receive.

Each teaches you something but be reminded all is karmic. It is why you are here.

— when the energy of ego is strong, say only what is necessary or be silent.

— as observed, in the history and realms of human, the biggest hurt has also been humans’ doings to other humans. Karma is complex but also simple in the sense of balance. This would go on infinitely. Just part of the human worlds. But know that there would also always be love, if balance and karma is running everything.

— fear is a powerful entity, it usually gets its victims to do its biddings but it really is just an illusion.

3/12/2023

— many people have the capability to see the truth but they cover that in denial. Deep down they know.

— do what you will, with kindness, patience, and clarity.

— a lesson that you have learned with another person is always a two way lesson. The same thing goes to a lesson learned by many with many in all infinite ways.

— each cult leader refers to themselves as a god, that itself is egotistical and ego is in very low vibrational frequency in this human realm. So go figure.

— all is well x infinitely

3/13/2023

— there would always be fear in the human narratives. Man made but also fate. Some do not fear it and they energetically become braver. The healing can only be learned in such reality.

— a spirit that is designated to have a low vibrational journey in this human realm, to play the bad guy so to speak. In the places of karma, both light and dark are needed for balance.

If you could see without all the humanly filters, you would show mercy and feel compassionate for the so called bad guys.

— the fear preaches its followers and then they start spreading that energy. It is how they cultivate and Manipulate the energy of the mass and the collective.

The energy of fear is the same but can dressed up as different topics in the human world. Just like theater, it would show up when it is its cue to. Right on the consistent schedule as the script.

3/14/2023

— if you could see yourself from a different perspective in a certain circumstances, you would probably change.

— after you experience all that negative emotions and low vibrational energy, you definitely would bounce back but I wish it would also be in this lifetime.

No matter what I wish you love always. All has been designated.

— when you live a lie, the ice below your feet get thinner and thinner. One day it would break but it is meant to wake you up or it is your exit.

3/15/2023

— in this humanly game, the entities who are so desiring for full control of the mass, is actually burdened with ego in ways of insecurity and fear.

— people worship the so called celebrities for whatever reasons, once they do they attach their energy to their idols, and problem is that celebrities all operate at very low vibrational energy and don’t be surprised if deceit is the first one that surfaces.

— people who have a narrowed sight and mind would not understand about karma. They see only a couple feet ahead at all time, as a metaphor. They needed to be this way to carry out certain soul contract obligations.

Just like a cat and mouse game, cat only sees the mouse and vice versa, again as a metaphor.

— the bad guys get caught, from there it presents a opportunity for them to make it right and elevate, it is a turning point that splits, some choose to continue doing bad but In a different reality it would be different.

3/17/2023

— evil fights good, but at some point evil also pushes other evil off the cliff because they are evil. That is what evils do. What a story.

— the devil gives its followers a short false sense of sweetness but really it is poisons and diseases, at the same time it is also thinking of unspeakable plans for all these pawns.

— kind people who have a good nature, who aren’t vigilant and allow ego, jealousy, and anger take over. The shadow covers up the light until they decide to heal.

— when you have had enough money, power, fame, and ego, you would miss home. You would try to balance and elevate then.

— our fate lives within us. You only have to be brave enough to see it.

3/18/2023

— a good marriage, a bad marriage, many marriages, all have to do with karma.

— keep calm. Let karma work its magic. Karma would balance the energy. Everything that happens in this realm is meant to be.

3/19/2023

— in the vicious karmic cycle of getting back at each other, it would go on like this forever until one side decides to heal and elevate.

Tell me, Will you choose healing and peace? Or you would rather continue playing this game within this simulation and illusion for eternity.

— so you are reckless, bold, and like to drive into the traffic without looking. You operate at that certain frequency and will attract another one just like you. You both will make the biggest clash and spark. Could be fierce and fiery but it is how you will learn.

I wish you love always.

— all the angels who drink from the cup of the devil, all become fallen and operate at a low energy state. All of their faces eventually all become wicked, that is one thing they have no control over, the karmic change of the energy, no matter how much magic potion they use.

3/20/2023

— human nature is a program. It applies to only humans In humanly realm.

— there is an endless of all sort of poisons. It is human nature. Each week is a new fear, obsession, and trend of song and dance.

— in the mainstream of things and people, nothing is what it seems but human life is predictable that way.

3/21/2023

— in an illusion there is such a limited perception called human construct.

— don’t react, don’t let it get into your energy, don’t be offended. Just observe where they are in this realm. You can still learn this way.

People will be all walks of life always because it’s been designed this way.

3/22/2023

— humans are given minds to perceive for perceptions In this reality of simulation. It simulates, therefore the only thing that makes you fearful is really just your mind.

— when you sense a component of ego, you can either snowball with it or pass it by, whatever you choose would be your expression, your choice, your journey and soul plan.

— all is well. See how karma work its magic and balance.

The universe is magical because anything can happen in this simulation.

Your limitations is your humanly perception.

— you realize that in this human world, the top of the food chain, the elites, the worshipped are really just exploiting others. The exploitation of the maximum but all operate at very low vibrational frequency.

Of course, the higher of a elite, the higher of the price tag is.

3/23/2023

— as a human your perception receiver comes in five senses in this simulation. The energy you encounter, it simulates your mind thru five senses yet it is an illusion of energy.

What and how you perceive of anything, shall be your everything, while you are still human that is.

— in this human world, there would always be inverted energy, and it would express like this, as lovers who hate each other, the worshipped saints who are morally corrupted, the leaders who send their followers to die, the doctors who are killing their patients and so on.

This such energy would be here infinitely in possible forms as all is. It is part of the humanly expression and experience for a certain soul.

You can beat yourself up or embrace it for such scenarios and narratives.

— remember in this reality, they will always use fear for control. They will always follow the oldest rule In the book.

Fear and control would always show up but In different dresses and scenarios, basically the same energy.

Be absolutely mindful and vigilant. Observe. Human world is predictable that way.

— you are free. You are stuck. You are imprisoned. You are forced. You are happy. You are sad. You are fake. You are real. You are this or that.

Whatever you perceive, shall be your experience. Enjoy what you order from the universe.

3/24/2023

— let it be known that sometimes anger really is a disguised fear. Nothing is what it appears to be in such circumstances.

— your conscience is also your teacher. Good conscience / guilty conscience, happy or unhappy. Your soul has a plan.

— in the realm of endless voices and noises, I personally think quietness is so very precious, without simulated triggers.

— remember, behind the inversion of what is supposed to be good but turns out to be bad,there is karma.

3/25/2023

— be reminded that anything to do with ego would only bring unhappiness, so what is the point of holding onto that egotistical energy when you know all is an illusion?

— when you focus too much on whatever that is hurt, it has no room to heal because your energy is preoccupied by the hurt. Look away, relax, find things to be happy about and you will heal. And remember patience is also of essence in this.

— happiness is what you make of it.

If your happiness is entirely dependent on someone else’s doings, I would bet my money on you ending up disappointed. You give away your power and it is ego to assume you are to be served goodness by one another.

— no matter what one stands for, when they hate, they are in their own hell.

3/26/2023

— In any relationship, a human is meant to learn about ego and tolerance from it.

3/28/2023

— shine your light. Each encounter is meant to be.

3/29/2023

— know that people become cruel because deep down there is fear, there is corruption of the heart, there is struggle within them always. It is their world.

If they are meant to heal, they will find happiness and mercy as well.

— everything about a person plays perfectly into a designated journey for them and for their encounters.

— everything and all encounters happen accordingly to the designated vibrations, even if a human thinks something is delayed, it isn’t. It has always been designated that way. Everything happens precisely accordingly, there isn’t coincidence like how human thinks.

— fixated on one thing like an obsession then ignoring the bigger picture. It is a lesson some humans would have to go thru to learn about it. It has to be first handed.

Let them be.

— it is obvious but most don’t see it until later, some not at all. All meant to be.

The more one is in tune with ego, the harder the journey would be.

3/31/2023

— if you deceive other people habitually, it will end up corrupting your own mind and all of your relationships.

— ultimately, thank you so much for teaching me how to think for myself, follow my heart to see the truth, to not jump into the hysteria of fear, and to see with clarity

I understand this has always been the purpose provided by the universe and fate.

— you have to see it with clarity to understand what it truly is, whether this be evil or good. The Universe would make what you need to understand come up to the surface so you can see it without filters.

Be reminded that the universe works in mysterious ways via karma and fate.

[into-crazy]

I have.. so many words❤💕💞

I started reading this for fun, but then I quickly became super invested!! Before this, I wasn't interested or had a liking to Rorschach. In fact, I didn't even know much about his character. I've seen Watchmen maybe once or twice so I was like 'oh, he looks familiar' and I decided to read. But then, I started to FEEL things.. It felt like I was truly there experiencing everything through the reader while watching her at the same time! Felt the same curiosity which grew to attachment that she'd felt for this mystery man. I even went to rewatch the movie right after I read this. Then after I watched it, I came right back here and reread it again 😭💕 I hope you don't mind but I noted some of my favorite moments and made comments😁🥰

You could feel your heart rate pick up as they got closer, and you hoped that they didn’t realize you lived in that building. You wished you didn’t feel so small but- The older man handed the food back to you without even looking. It was enough to bring you back to reality, and you took it quickly- the last thing you wanted was to antagonise him. Then he turned his body fully to the approaching group, and he waited patiently.

When he handed the food back to her and stepped in front of her, oh my god- my chest swelled💗😭 He was defending her, and was going protect her from those guys if it became necessary. He was and I refuse to believe otherwise. When he takes the food again right after hmmm🥺

The man still hadn’t acknowledged  you, and your arms were growing heavy.  With nothing left to do, you opted to  walk past him and unlocked the door; chancing a glance back at his form. Perhaps you were delusional, but you swore you saw his head turning back to its original position. Had his gaze followed you? A glance. It was small and secret and you were elated.

I freaking squealed!! This made me so happy😭 I thought it was cute that he was just sitting there at her building's steps. Awww, he drank the coffee she gave to him🥺🥺

But that first day you had come to him on that filthy street had felt like an itch had been scratched. For months he had felt eyes on him on that particular stretch of street, but when he had finally spotted you upon your little perch, he felt what it was like to have a question answered for once. It had startled him. You had startled him. He had imagined it was an old, fat creep spying on the passers-by or a whore looking for a client…just like her… But then there you were- this soft young woman with clean clothes and a gentle stare; you had almost fallen out of your seat, red cheeks visible even from his view point below.

The way he thinks about the reader, he just can't accept that her intentions are actually good. He doesn't even want to admit to himself that she's making him think and feel certain things. I also like how you've include what he's thinking and things from his point of view🥰 And I can't help but feel bad for what he said to her. He was so harsh to her and his words were so cruel. My heart was stomped on after that interaction😢💔

As one of the most recognizable figures of New York’s underbelly, Rorschach was used to the look of fright directed at him. What he was not used to was the look of solace that washed over your tight features once your eyes locked onto his inkblot face. Rorschach found something rewarding in your eyes. Fuel.

Screaming. Crying. Cheering and clapping👏 This is just what I needed😭

“It’s you…” you whispered. “You’re Rorschach.” He let out a noise that sounded akin to a growl and a sigh. The sound send a shiver through your cold body. Then  without another word, he pulled out a grappling hook like you had seen on the news, launched it, and disappeared into the smog and thick dark.

Oh shit, OH SHIT!! She recognized him!! I mean how could she not with that very familiar and very distinct voice of his?💞

Rorschach was far from weak, but when he felt your soft lips brush back against his, he felt something deep inside him snap.

YESSSSS!!🎆🎉 FREAKING FINALLY it's about damn time!!❤️‍🔥 THE SMUT😖😭🥰 I loved all of it!! So beautiful and steamy.. It was everything I needed and then some!! Oh my gosh, it was intense and so very well worth the wait💞 Definitely up there with some of the best smut I've ever read!!😍 Like shit, I want him- I want him now!!🥵❤️‍🔥

I am blown away by how incredible this fic is. I wanted it to go on forever and ever💞 Thank you so much for writing and sharing this OP. You're an amazing and talented writer💖

A Pretty Butterfly

|The Watchmen|

Rorschach x fem!reader

Summery: Watching a stranger from your windows quickly turned into a human connection you craved. You just wanted to help this strange man who walked past your home everyday…but it seemed you got more than you had bargained for.

Warnings: SLOW BURN, violence, mentions of rape and assault, age-gap (reader is mid -late 20’s and Rorschach is 45) smut, dub-con, fingering, obsession, stalking, anxiety, Rorschach being a tit, pessimistic thoughts, self-sabotage, sunshine and grumpy old man dynamic

Word count: 13.8k words

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IF YOU DO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DONT READ THIS

Notes: In the film, they claim Rorschach is 35, but the comic has him at 45 so I went with that instead. a special thanks to my buddy @mandowifey for sending me down this rabbit hole and helping me out with my scatter brain🤍

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You didn’t mean to stare.

That was a lie.

…a half lie.

You liked to watch, but you didn’t mean to latch onto one face in particular when you peered out of your window. You never really had before; perhaps the odd flamboyantly dressed hooker or someone with outrageously done hair, but you couldn’t say you had ever taken notice of someone who seemed so inconsequential.

It was his red hair that made you look twice, at first.

From your little window, above a small tea shop that was run by a family who smelled of jasmine, you first saw that little man who wandered the streets of New York with his picket sign.

“The end is nigh” it said.

The first time you saw it, it made you laugh a little. So pessimistic. You wondered why he felt the need to forecast such a statement to the city. Was the end all he could see? Was there no good in his eyes?

Silly, you thought, to busy yourself with a stranger’s story that you had fabricated entirely in your mind.

But then the second time, those words made you think.

Perhaps it was close- the end, that is. The more and more that chauvinistic Dooms Day Clock ticked, the more you started to believe that man.

It was inevitable.

Perhaps it was close, too.

You wondered if he was unstable- mentally or otherwise. Wandering the streets when he should have been getting help. But the more you watched, the more you realised about him and his meandering walk; never once did you see him lash out or scream like you had seen so many times from those who injected and snorted and drank any substance they could get their hands on.

You watched him for months- accidental at first, then you found yourself checking outside your window to see if he was there. It was as if he was your own personal dooms-day clock- each time you saw him it was a tick. Somehow you found him far more comforting than the Armageddon timepiece the government kept.

Then you got tired of walking from your desk to the window, and moved it up against the glass. You told yourself there was no harm in thoughtfully gazing at someone…you weren’t harming him or yourself. You liked to pretend you were friends…though you knew he wasn’t even aware of your existence. You bet he had a million odd stories of the world around him- he looked far older than you. Older and harsher.

Then came the day that changed your private little relationship.

The day he stared back.

It had scared you half to death when you had been watching him in your usual daze- silly smile on your face and chin in your palm- and he had paused. He had looked down the street, stopped, then snapped his head up to look you in the eye. He was 25 feet below you yet he saw you so clearly and you felt stripped bare.

You had nearly fallen out of your chair to scramble away from the window; goosebumps had sprung up on your arms and your feet had pins and needles in them. Your heart had leapt into your throat and pounded furiously. It had taken you 10 minutes to finally inch back to the window. To your relief, he was no longer there, but then distress began to set in as you wondered if you had scared him off. He didn’t exactly look blessed with monetary abundance, and you doubted he appreciated a strange woman staring down at him.

The next day, you thought he might not pass your street; having a stranger watch him was likely not on his to-do list and there were hundreds of streets for him to march down instead of yours.

However, even though you agreed with this likelihood of him not coming back, you found yourself unable to complete any work until noon. A call from your employer was the only thing that snapped you out of your reverie, and even then, you could barely focus on your work.

Your knee bounced as you did your best to prfioritize, and almost got lost in the work in front of you until out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flicker of red. It was embarrassing how fast you looked down, not that you truly cared.

Your heart jolted. He was there. You didn’t scare him off.

Then, he looked up again.

This time, you didn’t run. You held your ground…and even managed a little wave.

He didn’t wave back, and you even wondered if he saw it.

He only readjusted his sign over his shoulder and kept walking.

What an odd man.

Though you supposed you were just as odd to show such an interest in him.

Perhaps a little perverse…

You blanched at the thought; hoping to god that he didn’t think that.

While making dinner, a thought struck you. You made just a little extra food, and saved it in a container, even writing a note for yourself to not forget to give it to that strange man. You knew it was silly, and forward - truly very unlike you- but in a city where it was next to impossible to make any selfless human connection…you didn’t want this to go to waste. Even if he told you to piss off, at least you could sleep at night knowing you tried.

So you waited.

You truly hoped against hope that your wish to show compassion wouldn’t be seen as anything but what it was…though a part of you began to think you were practically asking for trouble or misinterpretation. The longer you sat the more nonsensical you felt as your knee bounced twice the speed of your heart beat.

It was almost 10 am when he came into your view, only this time it was as if he materialised out of nowhere instead of the slow walk from your right to your left.

You didn’t even wait to see if he would look up.

You didn’t let yourself think.

You dashed to your door, food in hand, and tore down the stairs to the small gate separating your home’s entrance from the figures trudging past. You opened it and stepped out onto the street, trying not to get stepped on by passers-by as you looked for him. To your luck, he was only ten feet down from your building, and before you could stop yourself, you quickened your pace to catch up.

“E-excuse me! Sir?” You called softly once you were behind him. The man came to a slow stop and turned- a stoic look on his face.

Now that this man was in front of you and was giving you his very real attention, you felt your lungs cease their function for a few seconds, no words forming in your mouth either.

He was handsome…in a strange sort of way.

He looked…jagged, and guarded.

Thin, short, and tired…but by god you couldn’t look away. Not until you realized you were staring again.

Simple and to the point.

You looked down at the container of food in your hands that was still warm.

“I’m- I apologise…I wanted you to have this…it’s getting cold.” You said, holding out the food to him.

Most impersonal act of kindness in recorded history, well done.

You returned your eyes to his face, and found him looking right back at you. Neither angry nor kind. He simply looked…beaten. Tired of his life…tired of the world…you didn’t know for certain. But you understood.

Somehow.

“I’m-…I’m sorry for staring. And I hope you’re not allergic to anything…um, there’s a fork in there, you can keep it, good to have, you know?” You knew you were rambling, and very aware that he hadn’t looked away from you once. You fought to hold his gaze, but admittedly it was an intimidating stare.

He turned to walk away, and you felt panic fill you.

“Please take it.” You tried again, but he didn’t say a word.

He silently left you standing there, and you felt like New York’s biggest idiot.

It was the rambling…defiantly the rambling. Oh maybe it was the act itself I mean he probably isn’t used to having that kind of- okay now that’s a bit of an over-assumption…he might have lots of people offering him kindness…and now you’re the one standing on the street staring at a lamppost.

…pull yourself together.

You watched him disappear, just like your pride; whatever had been left of it. Your shoulders began to sag as defeat settled into you and turned your tongue sour.

Which was why you decided to do the exact same thing again the next day.

You waited. Perfectly ready to not see him after that embarrassing display yesterday…but sure enough, there he was.

You noted that he did not not look up today, not that you blamed him.

You were out the door before you could dissuade yourself.

“Mister!” You called.

He didn’t turn this time.

You repeated yourself a little more clearly. “Mister!”

He kept walking. And somehow every time you almost caught up to him, he would slip out of your grasp.

You could only continue like that so far down the street, and eventually had to give up. He was stubborn…and you could be too. You didn’t know this man’s story, and if he didn’t see himself as good enough to receive kindness, then you could continue until he did understand…or until he called the police on you for harassment.

So you did it again. And again.

You told yourself you would try two more times and if he didn’t take them…that would be that. You would have to move on.

You made a rich stew, and even put a few pieces of bread in a bag for him. You steeled your shot nerves, and began to walk down to your entrance before even seeing him.

You saw him coming from a few blocks away, and very slowly made your way into his path. He gradually took in your form, but didn’t pause or even stop. Not until he was a foot from you. But you held your ground.

“Look…I’m not…I don’t know why you won’t let me help you, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get some gold star or have you boost my ego by being thankful…I just want to show you kindness and if that’s too much for yo-“

He held his hand out to you, palm up. He didn’t look away, and blinked slowly.

You might not have been the best at reading every person you met, but his message was obvious. “If I take it will you leave me alone?”

You grinned timidly, and placed the food in his hand gently. “Keep the container…they’re good to have.” You said under your breath almost out of habit- it had been something your mother did and now you found yourself doing.

He took it without another word, and you felt a pleasant heat bloom in your chest.

The next day, you childishly watched for him again- as if he was your Santa Clause or tooth fairy…although he looked like he might knock someone’s teeth out rather than give them a couple coins for them.

You made a soup that would fill him up and picked up an extra loaf of bread to give him. Both sat on your lap as you sat on your stoop, ready for him. You kept telling yourself you just wanted to help out a lonely soul like yourself, and that you weren’t developing a juvenile crush on the man who hadn’t even spoken to you.

You leaned out periodically to see if you could see him, and found yourself readying your nerves to confront him again.

You sighed and went to lean out again, only to freeze rigidly.

“M-morning-“ you squeaked.

The very man you were waiting for was standing just feet from you, staring, and his free hand in his pocket. As if he had come up from the gutters themselves.

You hadn’t prepared for this kind of sudden interaction, and found yourself mentally throttling your brain to do something.

Anything.

It seemed however that whatever god was above you decided to take mercy on you for once, and the man reached out his hand just as he had the day previously.

You wordlessly handed it to him then remembered the bread. “Oh! This um is for you too…it’s fresh.” You added, pretending like your cheeks weren’t warm and your hands weren’t shaking.

You smiled gently, but it faded fast when you notices a small group of seedy men approaching the two of you. You didn’t like to instantly label people, but this particular flock of men were well known in the area…you had watched them many a time from the safety of your window.

You instantly began to shrink in on yourself, and it seemed your change in demeanour was enough to catch the older man’s attention. He followed your stare behind him, and his nose momentarily scrunched up in a displeased snarl. A mere twitch.

Vermin.

Rorschach felt something ugly build in him. He knew their faces well…rape, theft, assault, vandalism. These men were true scum under his boot…he hated that he couldn’t put them in their place without his face.

“Hey-yo mammi lookin good!”

“Hey you wanna lift that skirt a little more?”

“Whatcha doin with the little rat, hm?”

You could feel your heart rate pick up as they got closer, and you hoped that they didn’t realize you lived in that building. You wished you didn’t feel so small but-

The older man handed the food back to you without even looking. It was enough to bring you back to reality, and you took it quickly- the last thing you wanted was to antagonise him. Then he turned his body fully to the approaching group, and he waited patiently.

Your heart stopped. Was he about to-

He didn’t move from his stance in front of you, and he almost looked bored. Inconvenienced.

“The fuck you gonna do weasel?” One of them sneered.

That’s not very nice-

They’re not nice PEOPLE

You watched, terrified, as they got into his face and towered over him. The last thing you wanted was for him to get beaten for just being near you-

“What’s your fucking problem huh? Just gonna stare at us with those freak eyes cuz you can’t fight?” Another taunted, guffawing.

You winced, and your eyes unfocused…just like they used to-

But then, something in the men changed like a light switch. With his back to you and now a few feet away, you couldn’t tell if the man had said something, or done something, but what you did know was that the skinniest of the group was clapping the biggest on the shoulder and telling him “The little rat ain’t worth the trouble.” But there was an urgency in him what wasn’t there before.

The men huffed and some blew kisses at you which made you wrap your sweater tighter around yourself wishing you could disappear. Your eyes refocused as you heard them walk away, and you slowly looked over at the older man who was now half turning back to you.

You stared at him, your appreciation evident on you face. “I- Thank you sir…I don’t…” Don’t want to think of what might have happened if you weren’t here, you wanted to say, but you kept it simple instead. You sighed and shook your head, then held out your offering to him, and the bread you were sure he would like.

The man stared, and rose his right brow slightly, then took both from you. He turned and left you there as if it was a normal day.

Your heart was still beating wildly by the time he had left your sight, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you as you thought about him defending you; even if it was simply him not in the mood to witness a young woman have her dignity taken…he had done something, and that made you stare after him longer than usual.

You didn’t ask why he came back at all.

Nor why he was right by your stoop that morning.

And you never inquired as to why he never asked why you didn’t give him money.

He knew why you didn’t. Perhaps not enough to make a full admission to himself but he sensed something in you…that stupid little girl. You didn’t give him money because money was too easy to fall into sin. Gambling, drugs, whores…all for money.

You wanted your kindness to stay as it was intended to be- good.

The warmth you had felt stewed in your stomach right through to the next day; you had made your way to your favourite shops early that morning and picked up a few bags of things to cook with. Then as you went to turn to your building, you paused.

You knew that red hair a mile away, and you only needed to look a few feet to see it resting against your stoop entrance.

He-

You looked around at nothing as if someone might tell you what you were seeing.

He was sat there on your building’s steps, newspaper in hand…reading. You considered continuing walking down the street and pretending like you didn’t see him or live there, but you felt silly even considering such a thing.

He didnt look up at you, and didn’t acknowledge you as you slowly approached the steps.

“Morning.” You said gently. Your cheeks began to flush when you looked at him- attempting to retrieve your keys from your pocket without tripping. It came out almost absentmindedly, seeing as you didn’t exactly want him to know that you had been fixated on how to approach him…although you supposed you had already had blown that when you watched for him every day and chased him with food…

He didn’t say a word.

An anxious knot began to tighten in your stomach. You truly didn’t know what to do…you didn’t want to seem rude if he just hadn’t heard you. You got to the first step and glanced down at your hot coffee. You wondered if he was able to speak at all…At this point, when you figured you were mostly talking to yourself and that he likely barely listened to a word you said.

“You need this more than I do…it’s September now…getting cold.” You bent down, hoping your paper bags didn’t rip, and placed it onto the second step by his boot.

You wanted to ask him why he was on your steps; wondered if he was waiting for you; wondered if he might clasp a hand over your mouth and slit your throat the moment you walked past him. It wasn’t that you wanted to think the worst, but after years of seeing the worst in the city, you couldn’t help it. You hoped that you were wrong, for you sanity’s sake.

The man still hadn’t acknowledged you, and your arms were growing heavy. With nothing left to do, you opted to walk past him and unlocked the door; chancing a glance back at his form. Perhaps you were delusional, but you swore you saw his head turning back to its original position. Had his gaze followed you?

A glance.

It was small and secret and you were elated.

You wasted no time in running up the stairs into your apartment, and grabbing the food you had saved from the night before. You counted the seconds mentally that it took for you to descend the stairs again, hoping it wouldn’t be enough time for the man to disappear.

You nearly tripped on the last step when you saw him standing and folding the newspaper. In another attempt to regain your composure, you slowed your pace as you came to the top of the stoop. You almost handed the food to him from there, but it made you feel like someone with a saviour complex instead of just trying to be nice. The tentative step you took down to his level seemed to finally grasp his vague attention as he looked down at your feet then up to your face.

You held the food out by his gloved hand.

“I hope you’re okay, mister.” You said earnestly, holding his gaze, “It’s horrible out there.” You didn’t know what made you say that, but it had been something that weighed on your mind for months…perhaps years. A dormant thought that his picket sign had awakened.

The man took the food, and it was then that you noted a certain despondency in his eyes. Perhaps it was the way his weathered face made them stand out so much more amongst the lines of age.

He left you there again just like he always did: silently.

Just as you were about to wander back up into your home, you glanced down and stopped and smiled.

There sat the coffee cup you had handed him.

It was empty.

Perhaps he was accepting your gestures in hopes of having you eventually leave him alone, but you were only fuelled by his recipiency. It became a routine for you to keep extra food for that man. Even if you ordered take-out, you kept some for him.

You noticed, however, that not long after you made contact with the strange man, a few things started happening to you that certainly had not before. In fact, you were beginning to ponder your sleep quality as you often woke up to far less food than when you had gone to sleep. Were you sleep walking? Or simply forgetting all together how much you had eaten?

Then came the dreams. At least a few times out of the week, your dream-addled mind swirled with unclear images of someone or something visiting you at night- a shadow, a whisper, a puff of smoke in the wind. You swore you woke up with things moved, but there was no forced entry that you could find, and thus you never thought more of it than you needing more sleep.

Weeks passed as you took it upon yourself to care for this man, even though he seemed to dislike the company. You knew he found you childish, it was beyond evident in his face when he stared at you. But even still, he took what you offered him, albeit begrudgingly.

Each time you saw him, a part of your heart felt bruised. Not that you pitied him -you were certain he would resent any pity- but you could tell when a person was damaged. Be it from something personal or the world itself…it didn’t matter. You were all hurt in your own way. You wondered how long it had been since someone was kind to him; had he known much kindness at all? Had he lost everything? Did he have anything to lose in the first place?

You hoped you could provide him with a tiny little ray of hope amongst the arduous reality.

Perhaps you were too optimistic like your mother had said when you were little…but you didn’t care. Not when it helped you sleep at night and get through the days of listening to the dwindling city below you.

But then, he stopped coming.

It had been a full month and a half since he had first accepted your offering. You had gotten so used to your routine that the first morning it happened, you felt sick- like a punch to your gut. You heart had dropped to your toes and your tongue felt heavy and your ears rang. You instantly thought the worst. Of course you tried to rationalise it, telling yourself that he most likely just wanted a change in his route and would be gone for that day…or perhaps he simply got sick and didn’t go for his usual walk.

When you sat there at your window, having gone back up dejectedly, you found yourself staring into nothingness. You hadn’t realized how attached you had become to that little man.

This man who never spoke had become a friend of sorts…some kind of stanger who gave you a tiny bit of human contact that you grew dependant on. It wasn’t as if he was kind to you, in fact he was a little standoffish when it came to you…you wondered if you bothered him more than anything else…and the more you thought about it the more you realized you probably did.

That night came and went; quiet and lonely aside from those strange dreams. Your eyes prickled when you awoke- already feeling empty.

You felt so silly. So selfish. Ridiculous really.

You felt even more ridiculous when you called in sick to work even though you couldn’t afford it. You found yourself wandering the streets without the slightest idea where that man came from or what his routine was, so you picked some directions to try and set off. There was no plan, you just needed to know that the one person you actually cared about wasn’t laying dead in an alley, at the very least.

It took three hours.

Three.

Asking various vendors and urchins of the streets before you were pointed in the direction that ultimately led you to that tuft of dirty red hair. He was passing by a news stand, that simple pace carrying him as always.

“Mister!” You called before you could tell yourself this was stalking…and the fact that you had no plan whatsoever.

The only indication that he heard you was when the man’s steps faltered for a moment. A slight pause in his foot and a tightening of his shoulders.

You ran to him, and moved into his field of vision. He stared at you almost like a stranger, and that stung you more than it should have. But you did your best to remain calm and kind.

“I haven’t- you-“ you tried, but failed to catch your breath, “I thought something had happened to you…but I’m so glad to see you safe. Can I- can I buy you lunch?” You asked him.

The man stared at you hard, that line between his brows even more pronounced than usual. He was thinking.

Rorschach loathed how bare he was without his face. If he wasn’t in disguise he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you to take your pity elsewhere, anything to get you to unstick yourself from him.

When he didn’t budge, you shifted on your feet, looking around to break his intense eye contact, “I- you dont have to repay me or anything…just a bite to eat. I care about you…- more than I should probably.”

“You shouldn’t.”

You almost jumped at the voice that left him.

That was the first time he had said a word to you, and you admittedly never would have thought that that would be his voice- it was so deep and hoarse that you shivered.

Then you realised what he had said.

“I sh-…why?” You asked, scrunching your brows together.

He hated his weakness in finally speaking. You would never let go now.

“People like you don’t care about people like me, and vice versa.” His words came in a rumble, and they tore you down so easily. A stomp to your heart.

You tried to pretend like tears weren’t welling in your eyes; like you were stronger than the curt, sharp words of a man you barely knew. “And what kind of people are my people?” You pushed, though it sounded more desperate than you wanted.

His face was pure stone. “Good people.”

You swallowed. “And you’re bad?” The question was timid; any wind that had been in your sails was long gone as soon as he had opened his mouth.

“Yes.” He rasped. Rorschach didn’t have the patience to baby you, and frankly his temper was rising the more you made him speak.

“Call me naive…but you don’t seem bad to me…you look…worn down.” You shrugged. “You seem like you need a little good in your life…and I really want to help you with that-“

“No you don’t.”

He said it so quickly it was as if he had practiced it or said it before. You wondered how many times he had gotten hurt.

As you searched for any retort, he continued, and began to stalk towards you causing you to back away. “You don’t want to help with anything. What you want is to feel a little less self absorbed than you already do but in doing so you only fall further into your pathetic, egocentric existence. You think you’re being compassionate? Look again. You’re nothing but a privileged little girl looking for a new toy until she gets bored and wants another one. Look in the mirror for once and see what you really are, you wretch.”

His words rang in your ears, and you felt lightheaded. He stared you down a moment longer, then he was turning around and disappeared into the crowd before you could find a rebuttal or feel your hands. You were numb.

Your heart ached as much as your feet did, if not more.

No…certainly more. You felt nauseated.

It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on you from the top of one of the skyscrapers above you. You felt cold and breathless.

You didn’t remember walking home, but you must have seeing as you were sitting on your couch, coat off and tears dry by 6 pm.

You never thought he cared that much; thought he just saw you as a free meal and you were alright with that…but hearing what he had thought of you all along made you want to double over at your stupidity.

Had he been obvious in his distain and you just hadn’t noticed? You supposed it had been you who forced him to take your food in the first place…he had tried to get away from you but never could because you were so persistent. You were selfish in your want to help, and it had angered him terribly.

And you had lied to yourself; you had told yourself that if he told you to piss off, you would just have to accept that…but here you were with him telling you just that and you couldn’t handle it.

You should have known it was only a matter of time before you pushed this stranger too far…

He was like a wild dog; he would respect you…and then he wouldn’t.

And now you felt even worse for comparing him to a dog.

You hung your head in your hands and let your tears fall. In your want to help someone you had only made an enemy, and made yourself feel more alone than ever.

But that one morning still played over and over if your mind- when he hadn’t let that gang of men get any closer to you; he could have so easily just taken the food and walked away to leave you to their mercy…but he had stood his ground.

Your head ached as you tried to rationalise everything and piece it together.

But all you could come up with was that he thought you were a horrible person…and you were starting to believe him. You supposed you were nothing more than a caterer for him and you had pushed his boundaries too much.

It was all your fault.

A week passed. Every night, you still made the extra food for him, only now you left it out on the stoop since you didn’t see him anymore; hoping he might wander by when you weren’t looking. But you felt your heart ache when it was untouched. On more than one occasion the food was taken, but you assumed it wasn’t your…friend.

Of course, you had no idea that the very man you urned for sat beside those containers almost every night for at least an hour without his face. He never touched what you left for him, and he stared at it in distain. You were young, and you were stupid. He gathered he couldn’t even call you a whore yet…hell you almost had a pretentious halo around you from being born still. He wondered how it felt to be so utterly ignorant.

Rorschach hated that he knew more about you than you thought. That he had taken up the habit of perching on your fire escape outside your window as he wrote in his journal, and you cooked or read.

What he didn’t know was why you did this. Rorschach was a master of puzzles and he loathed that he couldn’t figure your motive out, not fully at least.

You said you cared.

Said you wanted to help…

Stupid.

There was no way in hell that anything you said was true. There was some kind of poison lacing your words and he had already let himself be exposed too long. No one liked Walter Kovacs, and no one liked Rorschach; they used him and worked with him…but like?

No.

A young woman liking him?

Unheard of.

Preposterous.

But that first day you had come to him on that filthy street had felt like an itch had been scratched. For months he had felt eyes on him on that particular stretch of street, but when he had finally spotted you upon your little perch, he felt what it was like to have a question answered for once. It had startled him. You had startled him. He had imagined it was an old, fat creep spying on the passers-by or a whore looking for a client…just like her…

But then there you were- this soft young woman with clean clothes and a gentle stare; you had almost fallen out of your seat, red cheeks visible even from his view point below.

Just another strange woman then.

Then…and only then when you had burst out onto the street, and run after him did he allow himself to look at you. Actually look at you.

You had looked irritatingly familiar.

There was a timidness to your eyes- a sadness that had turned to kindness. A stark contrast to the sadness in his own eyes- a sadness that had turned to venom and ice long ago.

Your voice was soft as you spoke all in a rush and apologising as you held that peace offering to him. A warm meal.

Selfless.

You were young, and selfless.

You didn’t care that he was as filthy as the street you stood on. That he hadn’t even spoken a word.

You had just wanted to help.

Stupid.

Rorschach was pleased that he had chosen to leave you there; he wasn’t one to pick up strays.

But you were stubborn. He loathed how stubborn you were. Treating him like he was a bug under your microscope.

That next time when he finally took your selfish, presumptuous offering, he considered not eating the food lest it be poisoned, but then again that wouldn’t be the worst thing he had endured in his lifetime.

He had watched you retreat back into your little home like some little, pathetic mouse.

He wasn’t young, or stupid, or naive, or innocent.

He wasn’t about let his gaze wander to some girl who would be a whore in a year or two.

At least that was what he had told himself up until night fell. Once the city was plunged into darkness and his disguise came off, Rorschach clenched his bloodied knuckles as he scaled a near-by building. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop until he came to a familiar neighbourhood. Rorschach had huffed behind his mask, and crawled down the ladder system to your window; a sick, juvenile curiosity making him feeble. Contempt flooded him.

He sat outside your window…watched you as you put yourself to sleep; tugging frustratedly at your night-dress when it bunched up under your blanket. There was an innocence to you that made his nostrils flare under his mask and his ears ring; as if an old memory was trying to resurface. It was ludicrous, of course.

Your window had opened surprisingly quietly, and he soundlessly eased himself inside. Your home was simple and comfortable despite likely having a landlord who didn’t give two shits about you. Tidy enough for a young woman. Rorschach stalked from shadow to shadow, mapping out the apartment. Then he came to your bedroom, and he paused; watched how gently you breathed as sleep took you. As if you didn’t have a care in the world, or perhaps you simply weren’t aware of the scum that lay below you.

He told himself he was just collecting information on this strange person who had extended him a disingenuous olive branch. Nothing more.

It wasn’t that there was an itch in his hands when he saw you, or a twitch in his eye when he heard your voice; that you got under his skin.

You little creature.

A little light that had turned on in his dark world.

He hated the light.

He stared at the dress that you had worn that day- draped over the back of a chair in the corner of your room. It had sat at your knee, a modest length especially given your young age. It wasn’t often that a young woman attempted to protect herself with a show of dignity. He gathered you must be hiding something…

You were odd. A sliver of grey in his black and white world.

He hated grey. It made no sense.

Then there was the routine that you forced him to partake in.

He found his steps slowing when he passed your building- not out of expectation but out of a foolishness that made him engage in the childish game you laid out.

Your presence ate away at him like a corrosive acid.

Each day he expected you to not be there. To disappoint him like everyone else.

But you never disappointed him, and he loathed it.

There was twice where he had made it past your building with no sign of you, and he had decided that the game was done and he could carry on with his existence, but then that frantic little voice of yours would make him stop. Calling after him like he was so important. Like you needed to give him your kindness as much as you assumed he needed to receive it.

Then he found himself slipping.

So stupid.

Putting off jobs or rerouting himself to pass your window. Just a glimpse- a reassurance that you were alright like double checking that you have your wallet when you leave the house.

Then it wasn’t enough. He began to sleep there on your stoop, picket sign beside him like an old friend. He didn’t care if he saw you in the mornings, but he saw the type of people who frequented the area and he wasn’t about to let a single one get past your door. He didn’t need the blood of a foolish woman on his hands as well.

The image of your bloodied, violated limp body made his stomach churn; just like it had when he found Blair Roche’s remains. And that was what scared him- or the closest thing he could feel to fear.

He held this pristine little being in his pale hand, and he knew that the longer he held it, the more likely it became that he would ruin it. Crush you in his palm just like that man had done to that little girl all those years ago…taking Walter Kovacs with him.

And he would not drag you down with him. He would not stoop to that monster’s level.

So he stopped showing you his disguise. He couldn’t have you know he was there, just like the rest of New York. He needed you to forget about him; treat him like a ghost you saw out of the corner of your eye.

When he was across the city that morning and still heard your voice behind him, he had felt his muscles tighten in distain.

Because then it wasn’t a game anymore. He was done.

But you were so insistent that you cared.

You truly cared.

You had spent god knows how long looking for him.

As soon as he had heard you, he had to steel his composure lest you attempt to lure him back into your scheme.

He hated that you had gotten him to speak, but he had watched you crumble under his words; it was alright that you were upset. He could handle that far easier than your kindness- perhaps you might even grow from a little cruelty.

Weeks passed, and he found himself returning to his usual schedule; almost appreciating the simplicity of the dullness and angst.

It was a Tuesday night when Rorschach sat on an old roof top, jotting down his visit to Daniel Dreiberg’s home- noting that he had gotten even lazier with his physique and needed to stop lying to himself about the state of the world. The odd scream and rushed fuck in an alley-way rang out below him here and there; the usual.

Dull, really. He sighed, and tucked the book inside his coat. He leaped down to the neighbouring roof, and trudged along it.

Then from down below, he swore he heard a familiar voice.

Rorschach almost rolled his eyes as he came to the edge of the roof and looked down. It was dark, but he knew your voice from a mile away- you had forced that skill upon him.

You were backing away from five men, all considerably more imposing than yourself and your warm drink. Hot chocolate to be exact. You always had at least one once a week…taking a stroll to a small coffee house-

Rorschach ground his fist into the brick to halt his unnecessary thoughts as he crouched.

He listened to the men taunt you, and saw them back you into an alley wall.

He watched, bored, waiting to see what might happen. Then the more he listened, the more he came to realize that the conversation being had sounded familiar.

“What you thought I’d be locked up forever, pumpkin? Nah they just needed some good behaviour ‘n that was enough for them to slap my ass outta there.” One of them laughed, and he neared your cowering form.

Rorschach noted just how badly you shook.

“What? You’re not happy to see me? Cmon now, don’t you have a kiss for daddy, hm?” The man sneered, successfully trapping you against the disgusting alley wall.

Rorschach began creeping down closer to hear, his eye twitching under his face when he watched the other men keep a look out and stare at you like meat on a plate.

“There you were thinking you were so smart with that speech of yours… “My boyfriend raped me and made me watch him launder all the money.”.”, he put on a horrible high pitched voice to mock you, “God you sounded pathetic. 15 fucking years…got out in 7…missed you, you know?”

Rorschach’s brain itched as he tried to recall this particular monster…it was all so-

Then it clicked.

That nagging familiarity of your face wasn’t a coincidence. He had seen you before, of course he had. He felt so stupid.

He had been outside the courthouse after you had given your heartbreaking testimony and that vile man was sentenced to 15 years for assault, murder, rape, and money laundering with attachments to drug trafficking to the homeless. Some monster with a god complex. He had seen you come down the stairs, one of your eyes still black, and head down as the onslaught of reporters and media flocked to you. You had been in the damn paper, why the hell didn’t he remember that. You were barely legal too…he remembered how his stomach had churned-

Your scream snapped him out of his memory, and he was leaping down into that alley before you could finish your cry for help. You sounded so terrified.

As Rorschach landed, a knife was held up to your lips, ready to carve your face. He felt rage fill his veins; was there no end to the putrid barbarians that staked their claim on what they saw fit?

He cleared his throat. Each head turned to him, including yours, as he stood.

As one of the most recognizable figures of New York’s underbelly, Rorschach was used to the look of fright directed at him. What he was not used to was the look of solace that washed over your tight features once your eyes locked onto his inkblot face.

Rorschach found something rewarding in your eyes.

Fuel.

The man holding your throat nodded for the man closest to Rorschach to attack first, which he did. His neck snapping echoed louder than your sobs.

The cold knife poked carelessly into your soft cheek, and you did your best to squirm away.

The next man to lunge at the vigilante smashed his bottle of beer against the brick wall, smirking as if his glass weapon would do any good. Rorschach let him get close. Then faster than a bullet he snatched the man’s weapon-laden hand and squeeze tight; the bottle breaking easily in his fist and puncturing the man’s hand like a balloon on a tack.

Two other men attempted to assault Rorschach, and each time he found such generous abundance of horror and dread in their eyes right before he gifted them each with an irreversible injury.

One after another, the men fell, until it was just Rorschach, the man holding you, and you.

He knew the dog had a name- knew he had heard it specifically- but he couldn’t bring himself to care. No doubt he would hear it over a news channel tomorrow.

The lout man held you tight, and knocked your head against the wall to stun you before turning to Rorschach. You slumped to the ground and watched as the masked vigilante took measured steps to him as if to speed up the process.

You had heard of the Watchmen before, and the countless criminals they had put away and subsequent lives they had saved…but Rorschach wasn’t what you had imagined. He didn’t tell you to save yourself or ask if you were alright. He was silent.

And somehow you found comfort in that-as if you were in the fight with him instead of a damsel in distress. You couldn’t look away, even going so far as looking for something to immobilize the brute of a man who had stolen so much from you all those years ago when you didn’t know any better.

Then once you looked up again, he was down in a heap.

You didn’t even see the altercation, but regardless there was an evident dent in the side of his bleeding head.

The filthy alley floor dug into your knees as you sat and stared. Your mind was playing catch-up with your eyes, and you felt as if the world had been eradicated from your shoulders.

You felt tears well in your eyes and a line of gratitude on your tongue.

Then the masked man turned to you and your entire world shifted when he spoke.

“Go home.” Was all he said.

But it wasn’t how he said it or what he said.

It was his voice.

You knew that voice.

You missed that voice.

You had wanted so badly to understand that voice…

Even the compact build and attitude were right.

Your lungs burned from you forgetting to breathe for a moment.

You stared up at his looming figure, eyes wide and tears long forgotten.

“It’s you…” you whispered. “You’re Rorschach.”

He let out a noise that sounded akin to a growl and a sigh. The sound send a shiver through your cold body. Then without another word, he pulled out a grappling hook like you had seen on the news, launched it, and disappeared into the smog and thick dark.

Rorschach berated himself for hours following the incident. So badly that he beat an old pimp into a coma and ripped his face off to breathe as he sat on a fire escape.

This was a nightmare.

You knew him. Knew his face and his voice.

He had slipped.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid.

There was only one thing he could think of that might rectify it, and it didn’t include you living.

He sighed.

Rorschach stood outside your door, returned to his disguise, and found that he could hear your footsteps through the thin wood. You were cleaning… doing something to distract yourself. Your hands were shaking judging by how you kept dropping things.

He knocked three times, and heard you pause at the sound. Paranoid. Frightened. You very quietly approached the door, and took a look through your peephole before falling completely silent.

You weighed your options; you could not open the door, and risk that pissing him off and breaking the door down…or you could open it and simply speed up the process of whatever it was he wanted. It took ten seconds before you pulled the door open for him.

There was no hiding how startled you were by him being there…now that you knew exactly who he was.

You were looking for something he say, he could practically hear your mind working away…up until your eyes fell on his bashed cheek and the blood drying there. You hadn’t realised he had gotten hit during the fight.

“Y-you’re hurt,” you murmured, and he nodded, not letting his eyes leave you. You sighed and stood aside, “Come in.”

He stared at you for a moment, then slowly walked past you into your home as if it was the first time he had been there. Like he didn’t know the layout and where you slept and how you folded your clothes or the hangers you used.

“Sit down.” You gestured to the couch, and offered a very small smile as if to reassure him that he was welcome there. That you weren’t holly terrified of him.

Rorschach sat, and watched you as you approached him with a cloth and small bowl of water. You sat close to him, and brought the cloth up to his cheek after wringing it out, but he caught your wrist before you could get any nearer.

He looked at you. Truly looked at you. Looked through you.

“You shouldn’t waste your tears on something so undeserving as a man.” He rumbled.

Your eyes were locked on his, and you felt as if all air was sucked out of you. You still weren’t used to that voice of his; pure gravel.

His words hung heavy in your ears, and you realized that you must have looked like an absolute mess- tears still drying on your cheeks from sobbing for your life in the alley.

He watched you take the tactless comment and he slowly released your wrist, and you gently began to clean his injury and grime on his face. There was a firm line between your brows as your worked- wiping the sharp planes of his face while trying to ignore his eyes on you, burning a hole through your skull.

His face came clean, and your bowl of water was murky and pink. This was possibly the most surreal nights you had had in a very long time. You went to get up but again, his hand caught your forearm and kept you seated. You looked from his hand to his face, staying quiet.

“Why are you helping me?” He snipped, grip tight.

You blinked, and searched his handsome face for any idea why he might doubt you aside from the fear he caused you.

You shook your head, “Why wouldnt-“

“Why?” Rorschach snarled, pulling you so close that you breathed the same air- those cold blue eyes of his harsh and intimidating.

You gasped, but refused to look away. His grip hurt, but he had saved your life and you were afraid that if you said or did the wrong thing he would disappear again. It was pathetic, you knew that, but you felt a strange bond to him.

And though he didn’t want to admit it, he felt an odd attachment to you as well.

For 45 years he had only ever seen the greed and filth that came from humanity; shaped from it, starting from the very womb he was born from. Lies and hatred, murder and rape and theft and horror beyond your imagination. For him to find your grey in amongst the rubble of humanity, it felt like good gold. He was waiting to rub away a coating of false innocence and find another piece of coal.

But there you were…coming whiter and whiter until-

Rorschach didn’t like being wrong. Being surprised. It was tedious.

But it would be a lie if he said you were anything but one of the innocents.

A good person.

Each of the deeds you had done for him had in fact come from a place of benevolence, and not deceit.

Rorschach let his grip on you lighten.

Despite your brain cautioning you of the vigilante in front of you, you simply stared back at him and ignored how strong his hold on you was.you did note that he released you slightly, the same moment his eye twitched.

“I think there’s something to that old saying of a wounded soul recognizing another wounded soul…you looked like you had some decency left in you, sir…please don’t tell me I was wrong.” Your voice was soft. Gentle. But no less direct than his. You were kind, not weak, and you were hoping against hope that he wasn’t like America’s favourite hero, the Comedian when it came to women; a line of them out his door begging for his sexual attention and him using them then tossing them aside as he pleased.

“Or maybe I’m just stupid.” You shrugged and looked away, afraid he might confirm your statement. You wouldn’t put it past him to be blunt.

Rorschach almost reacted to your use of that word. For so long he had labeled you as such, and while you might very well still be…he was sceptical to assume anything of you. He continued to stare, his sharp eyes cutting into you like you were a cloud of vapour. He relaxed his grip on you again, and stared at where he had held your arm- red finger marks forming on your clean skin. You must have washed yourself as soon as you had gotten home…scrubbed yourself clean from those vermin.

Good.

“I have…I have some dinner I was going to-um…well bring down for you…if you want it.” You began to shift uncomfortably under his gaze when he looked back at you. You swore he stared more than he spoke.

He nodded after a moment, and you smiled a little.

An incandescent sight.

“Okay.” You whispered, finally getting up. It was surreal.

Rorschach watched you go, noting that a pleasant scent followed after you.

Why did he notice that?

You walked to your little kitchen, and placed the dirty cloth and water in the sink before going to grab the pot of warm soup. You filled a bowl for him, and turned around to grab a spoon when you froze and jumped back, spilling some soup.

You hadn’t even heard him walk up behind you, didn’t even feel him even though he was a mere breath away.

“What are you…?” You murmured.

He watched you startle, and looked for any last ill intent or motive; any snark comment or any price you might want to put on your kindness…but nothing came.

It never did.

His breath was on your face, and you could only stare at him. There was a tragedy to him, hidden under the dirt, and he was impossible to read. He might have been plotting your gruesome death and you would have no idea.

Rorschach focused on you.

Fixated.

So innocent…white and pristine amongst the blood, filth and rot of his world. He hated it. Hated how you were allowed to be like that; a poster child for something that didn’t exist freely.

He sighed, pursing his mouth.

You had chosen this; you had decided to care for him. You had lead him down this path.

You had given yourself to him.

You looked away for a moment, and gingerly placed the bowl down before you spilled it. Then before you could think of anything to say with this dangerous man who was a hair away from you, you felt the skin of his lips catch yours when you turned back.

You wouldn’t call it a kiss- it was more of a hook or bait. A test. But when he did it again…that was a kiss; tentative and slight as it was. He heard your breath catch , and could feel the heat from your cheeks as they warmed and flushed.

You blushed.

Whores didn’t blush.

He kissed you again, with a little more force, and your hands came up slowly to his chest, resting there like you hadn’t decided if you wanted to draw him closer or push him away.

He might have been one of the most infamous men in New York…if not America, but he was flesh and blood underneath that mask. He was warm, and sturdy.

Rorschach was far from weak, but when he felt your soft lips brush back against his, he felt something deep inside him snap.

A low growl rumbled in his chest and he unclenched his fists; bringing his calloused hands up to grab the back of your head and your jaw to draw you closer as he backed you hard against the counter.

It was messy and Rorschach held you possesively as you gave into him. Your teeth clanked together, and your rhythm was fueled with need as he nipped and bullied his tongue into your eager mouth. He gripped your hair so tight it hurt your roots but you didn’t dare tell him to stop.

He only removed his hands from you to shuck off his jacket and gloves, mouth still sealed over yours, and then they were back on you. Grabbing at your flesh, drawing you closer; chest flush against yours.

You shakily forced your hands between and the two of you and began unbuttoning his shirt- the older man hummed in regards to your tremor.

You nervously loosened his tie and let your hands wander over the skin of his collar and chest. You hadn’t expected him to be so strong, but knowing who he was, it only made sense. Before you could get any further he weaved his fingers into your hair and pulled your head away from him.

Rorschach held you there for a moment, soaking in how you stilled so obediently; staring at you as his free hand began to gather the hem of your little night dress. He huffed, and gave your roots a quick squeeze, and the message was clear: “Stay.”

Then once he was satisfied with your cooperation, he brought his other hand down to the other side of your nightie and brought the garment up and over your head with ease. He let it fall to the ground, and you followed its descent; unable to look at the older man now that you were left in your panties while he was still almost fully clothed.

He placed two fingers under your chin to force you to look at him; you felt your blush deepen when you saw how blown his pupils were. He looked determined, and feral- deep breaths making his chest heave.

Before you could say a word, Rorschach scooped you into his arms and didn’t even pretend to not know where your bedroom was. A gasp escaped you, and your wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He carried you with little effort, and had you plopped down on your mattress in seconds. The older man crawled over you before you could even sit up; lips on yours, kissing you so hard your mouth grew tender. He only paused to pull back and kick off his trousers.

Then he was everywhere.

Rough hands grabbing at your soft skin; low rumbles and hums in his chest that vibrated against you and made you need him even more. He kissed and bit at you- marking you as his. You held onto his strong shoulders, whimpering and moaning quietly as he made you forget your own name and only know his.

Rorschach bit into your neck, and rocked firmly against you. You could feel him scorching and pulsing against your core, rubbing hard against you to create friction that had you forgetting to breathe.

“P-please” you whispered, raising your hips up to meet his.

The man stopped, and you immediately regretted saying anything. He pulled away to stare down at you. You thought you had done something wrong until he spoke.

“Say that again.” He murmured, his nose brushing yours.

Your quick beating heart was so clear for him to see, along with your nearly black eyes; the throbbing vein in your neck and pulse in your chest.

“Please…” you said again, lips red and swollen.

He sucked in a breath. Having your warm, soft skin against his bare chest was the first human contact he had felt in decades. It made him feel…human. He was fighting to maintain his practiced composure, but he could feel it slipping through his fingers with that one word.

“Again.” He rasped against your lips, throat tight; invading every inch of your space. He knew he shouldn’t ask it if you, but be needed this. He needed you to say it again.

You swallowed.

“…please.” Came your timid, needy voice. Your hands started to fidget as he refused to look away, barely blinking as he took you in. Drank your generous vulnerability.

Rorschach hummed low in his chest.

“You’re mine.” He growled simply, the skin of his lips catching yours as he spoke.

Your mind was gone already, sitting that bowl of cold soup on the counter.

You could only nod.

He sighed through his nose, and then it was as if the last part of his restraint broke. Rorschach locked his lips onto yours, and you parted yours to gasp as his hand came to your hip- squeezing and stroking your skin. His tongue moved against yours and you let out a surprised moan that he swallowed greedily. Then just as quickly, he ripped himself away from you, and you watched his veiny hands as they pulled himself from his boxers; painfully hard and leaking precum. You’d be lying in you said you hadn’t thought highly inappropriate things about the man- something about his simplicity and your need to please him. He lowered himself over you, resting his weight onto you as he bit at your lips.

Low hums would rumble through him and you couldn’t help but think he was purring. He perched onto his forearms, and shifted closer; you gasped when you felt the tip of his cock against your entrance, and choked out a cry when it entered you without warning.

There was no sweetness. It was blunt, and clear as day.

Rorschach rested his head into your neck as he hunkered over you and pushed forward, then drew back; fucking himself into you. You were no virgin, but you might as well have been. It only took two brutal thrusts before his hips were flush with yours and you were clinging to him pathetically.

You whimpered in his ear at the stretch of him so deep inside you. You couldn’t help but squirm slightly in an attempt to get used to him. Rorschach brought a hand to rest at the nape of your neck to keep you still as he drew out of you again then snapped back into you, making your body bounce under him. It was as if he was testing you…or perhaps testing himself.

Then you felt a puff of his hot breath as he quickened his pace, taking full advantage of how soaked you were for him. You could feel him throb inside you, and you suddenly remembered that he was only a man…a much older man who was rutting inside you like he owned you. The thought alone had you moan into his shoulder as his fat tip dragged against your insides and bruised your cervix. You rolled your hips with him, gasping at how hard he gripped your hip and neck.

He was possessive and harsh in his need for you. Like a man who had been starved and you were his first meal.

And he would devour you.

You felt his pace pick up and his thrusts turned harder and sloppier. He locked his arms around your shoulders to keep you still as he bruised your pelvis. Your back arched and hips met his in a need to feel every inch of him. You hooked your legs behind him to bring him closer. You could feel him huff into your neck, a rumble in his chest.

“I-inside me- please…” you managed to croak out, though you doubted he would listen to any request that he didn’t like at that point. He was going to make you his in every sense, and that meant filling you with his cum.

Rorschach growled deep into your shoulder and bit into your flesh. You felt him pulse inside you, then a warmth spread inside your navel as he emptied his cum into you. It had a comfort to it that made you cling to him, nuzzling your face into his strong shoulder. Ragged breaths were in your ear as he hammered into you a few more times like he was proving a point. Making sure you knew that you were his now…his secret.

You panted with him, and clenched reflexively as he began to pull out. You already missed the warmth he brought you. His shoulders were visibly more relaxed as he moved to lay beside you, and you slowly grasped his jaw and brushed your lips against his, which he returned ever harder. You pulled away, and you liked that he hummed when you did.

The man beside you leaned up onto his arm to stare down at you thoughtfully. As if he was trying to read something on you. Your skin flushed with warmth under his scrutiny, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him that you didn’t cum.

When you moved your hand down between your legs where his cum now leaked from you, you twitched. Every inch of your skin was hypersensitive and when you touched your clit you almost flinched at the contact. All of which instantly drew the attention of the man beside you. He stared at you intently- a deep line between his red brows.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

His scrutiny was jarring, though you noticed it wasn’t judgemental…it was studious. Curious. You looked away from him, and felt very naked under his gaze, afraid he might ridicule you for something like that. It wouldn’t be the first time you had gone to take care of yourself and a man had almost laughed in your face.

“I’m…I didn’t um…” you tried, but he watched you so closely, and felt as if he was studying you.

He was.

Then he understood. His eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Oh…” he rasped, looking down where your hand had been. You bit your thumb nail as you waited to see what he would do or say. You liked this man more than you would care to admit, but you knew men could be selfish…and uncaring…and mean. Hell, you had never had anyone make you cum besides yourself, and your expectations were not-

Your thoughts were halted when you felt the warmth of his calloused hand on yours. You watched as he very simply took your hand from your mouth, and returned it to between your thighs, and looked back at you expectantly. At first it felt like a slap in the face, as if he was telling you to take care of yourself…but with how intensely he was gazing at you, you realised he was examining your every move. You moved your fingers and he regarded them carefully. Like it mattered greatly to him.

The older man committed everything to memory; when you petted, when you were gentle, when you moaned, when you pressed harder, when you stroked, when you arched your back, when your hand started to shake, when your brows pitched up, when you slipped your fingers inside yourself.

You found yourself unable to look away from him even as your eyes drooped and your mouth dropped open in a permanent sigh. Your breaths were coming in little gasps, and you didn’t even notice he was just as effected as you- his chest heaving as he took deep, controlled breaths.

You slowly pumped your fingers inside yourself, stroking your g-spot; then gasped out a soft whine at the contact on your sensitive flesh, at which point Rorschach deemed to be enough watching for his liking. He snatched your little hand and replaced it with his own far larger and rougher hand.

You gasped when he touched you so accurately…but this time you gasped for him.

He leaned over you, his lips just a breath away as if to breathe in your whines and pleas. Watching what he did to you.

His thumb drew small, feathery circles around your clit; alternating between direct but tentative touch, and agonizingly slow strokes that didn’t quite touch it. You began to pant, and your hands found his strong shoulders- hanging on like a lifeline. The older man hummed, and looked away from you for a moment to watch what he was doing, how slick his hand had become as a result. Once he had your hips rolling up into his palm, he eased a finger inside you, although his was noticeably longer and thicker than yours.

You gasped at the sensation.

“I-if you- ah! Can you move l-like this?” You showed him how to curl his finger inside you and he instantly followed your instruction, and even added a second finger; you cried pathetically as you surrendered to his mercy.

He stroked your inner walls for a new moments until he found what he was looking for. Once he made contact with that hypersensitive patch inside you, you let out a gasped moan that you tried to cover with your hand, but Rorschach was having none of that. His free hand that had cradled your head smacked your hand away and didn’t even pause his ministrations. This was just as much for him as it was for you. He wanted to know everything he did to you.

You whined softly against his mouth.

The movement of your hips began to be more deliberate as your body chased its craving. As if catching onto what you needed, he focused on that spot inside of you, and you let a series of moans slip from your mouth. Your pelvis bucked up into his touch, and you could have sworn that amongst the focused breathing and studious stare, you saw that man smirk.

Smirk.

He huffed out a ragged sound that must have been a laugh.

He continued to watch you, and you found yourself lost in the feeling of him and the sight of his eyes staring down at you like you were the most important thing at that moment.

Like there was nothing he would rather be staring at.

It took only a few more moments of his careful ministrations before you were falling apart in his arms. Your back arched up off the bed as you gripped his fingers like a vice inside you, and he continued his strokes, though he slowed them considerably.

The steady drag of his fingers inside you set your veins on fire. There was a mess of your and his cum between your thighs,and he used the saturated slickness to lazily finger you; carrying you through your high.

As you eyes refocused and unglazed, you stared back at him, and caught his lips with yours. He eagerly returned your needy kiss, and very gently removed his hand from your cunt.

You lacked proper judgement and acted purely on what you wanted; with his hand resting on your penvis, soaked and sticky, you took his wrist in your hand. You didn’t want to know how much blood had been shed because of those hands, not in that moment to be specific, but what you did know was that he had you wrapped around those fingers tight. You lifted them to your lips licked the slickness off of them, cleaning him. You flicked your eyes up to his, and we’re startled be how close he had moved. He hummed low in his chest when your tongue slowly lapped at them to clean him.

He drew his hand away from you, kissed you; holding you jaw surprisingly gently as if you didn’t have the shape of his hands bruising your hips or an ache deep inside you.

Your head felt light and disconnected.

Rorschach pulled away after a moment, and propped his head onto his hand to watch you. He gingerly traced your face shape with his finger, as if mapping and memorizing you. Touching your eyebrows, the ridge of your nose, your cheekbones.

He was lost in his own little world.

“I like the way you sound when you cum.” He said so a-matter-of-fact.

Your cheeks went rosy and warm. You didn’t know if you should thank him, so you grinned sweetly.

There was something in him that made it compelling to watch him. Something drawing you in as he stared back with such fixation. You didn’t know how to look away.

Not until your eyelids drooped and exhaustion took you. You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you did know that when you awoke, your blanket was laid over you, your hair was out of your face, and you had a pair of crystal blue eyes staring back at you. Rorschach looked to have not moved an inch since you had fallen asleep. His head still propped in his hand, watching.

“Did you sleep?” You asked, rolling closer to him; your head and body consumed by your pillows and blankets.

He shook his head.

“You do you ever sleep?” You flicked your eyes across his face.

And he shook his head again.

You placed your hand on his cheek. His face didn’t soften- it never did, you noted. But regardless, his attention was on you entirely; you stared at him like he did you, then smiled gently at him.

“Thank you for trusting me.” You whispered, and he clearly hadn’t expected such a thing.

Again, he didn’t move from his place, but you noted the twitch in his brow, and small smirk that sat in the corner of his mouth. Perhaps he thought you foolish, but you didn’t care.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, and pulled away quickly even when he chased you. A displeased huff escaped him, but you eased it away when you gently hitched your leg over him. He grabbed your waist as if anticipating something volatile, but when you leaned over him, your chest against his, he seemed to pause mentally. You nestled your hips against his, your thighs on either side. With nothing between you, the feeling of his hardening cock against your lips was evident. The older man’s warmth radiated into you. You felt his fingers start to dig into your hips where he gripped you, squeezing the flesh as if he was about to lift you off. But then, you rolled your hips against him, sliding along his shaft easily given how slick you were already. He stopped all trains of thought he had for a moment when the sensation registered in his nerve-endings.

His gaze continued to make you self-conscious, but you wouldn’t shy away from him now.

You repeated the motion again, and felt him twitch and harden under you; you gasped when his hands held you firmer. You enjoyed the feeling of his cock under you, and your eyes began to glaze over when you felt the swollen tip catch your entrance, slipping inside you without warning. The soreness you felt from the night before didn’t stop you though. You watched him carefully, and while his stare was intense and focused, there was no unease or resistance.

Your cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but stutter, “I-is this okay?” To the nearly silent man.

Again, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he gripped your hips tighter and bucked more of him into you.

You took that as a yes.

Encouraged by his action, you rolled your hips on him a few more times to get more of him inside you; a whimper and a gasp escaped you as he filled you so completely- the stretch painful but addictive. Your slower pace appeared to bother him and he ground you down onto him to get his cock fully inside you. The force made you breathe out another gasp; your hands found their place on his muscled chest to steady yourself.

With you both satisfied with being locked together, you slowly bucked your hips, drawing him in and out of you. You felt his grip grow more possessive, almost pawing at you as he held you.

You started slow, and deliberate; angling your hips to have his cock drag against your g-spot. At the first contact, your tempo stuttered, and your choked on a moan. He seemed to find your pleasure amusing as he hummed and began to meet your thrusts. He seemed to understand what to feel for after a moment when he stroked that sensitive patch, and you noted that he was very particular about hitting it.

Then you started to notice just how much pleasure he was receiving when his lips parted and the tendons in his neck began tighten.

Each time you came down on his shaft, you felt him reciprocate the movement- grinding up into you. It was as if he knew exactly what to feel for that made your toes curl.

You could barely hold a thought in your head as you felt fire brew in your veins and a tightness in your pelvic muscles.

You tilted your head back, and your arms that were braced on his chest buckled; bringing you closer to him. Your head fell back down and your eyes locked onto his- pupils blown. There was a new intensity to his face, a determination.

Then, as if he had had enough of you in charge, the man suddenly gripped you waist and flipped you onto your back. He crawled over you, and slipped his cock back inside you, earning him a whine and gasp from your sweet throat. He found a rhythm identical to the one you had set atop him, and your lips parted when you felt him angle his hips to target that spot inside you; the intense drag of his cock hitting it each time. He rendered you speechless in seconds.

After mewling and huffing out breaths, you finally managed to find a couple words.

“H-harder…” you forced out, “Ple-ase.” You pleaded.

It seemed he was intent to oblige. The gradual roll of his pelvis escalated into a harsher snap of his hips that had him watching you with rapt interest when you cried out.

Out of habit from your past, your hand flew to your mouth just like it had the night before, but just like then, he grabbed your wrist and pinned it beside your head without a moments thought. You felt scrutinized and your cheeks began to heat up so much you felt the warmth spread down your neck.

He wanted to know exactly what he did to you.

And that thought alone forced your body to clench and melt for him simultaneously.

With his careful ministrations, your orgasm grew quickly- an overwhelming amount of pleasure spawning inside you that you hadn’t felt before. Just as you had asked, he kept his pace steady and firm. His desire to know how to play you as he liked made your brain go dizzy with need, and you were intent to follow his wishes. While it made you flush even more to tell him what you needed, you swallowed your pride and forced another pathetic whimper from you. “Slower…please.” You breathed.

At your request, he leaned down over you more, his chest almost flush with yours. He kept your one hand pinned while he used his other hand to pull your thigh up and pushed your knee to your chest.

The change had your eyes rolling back, and you heard him hum; vibrations from his chest buzzing into yours making your fingertips tingle.

It took all of ten seconds before your thighs shook and you desperately rolled your hips up to meet his. He watched as your brows pitched up and your swollen lips parted. Your face flushed in ecstasy.

Rorschach could feel you tense around his cock, and smirked to himself when he felt a rush the of your cum soaking him inside you. You nearly sobbed. Eyes glassy and back arching as you came.

The older man slowed his pace, until eventually stopping all together, but only for a moment. He leaned his nose down into the crook of your neck, and inhaled softly. His grip still possessive; it made you shiver.

Then, just as you settled, he snapped his hips once, forcing his cock back into your tightened heat and he pulled away from your neck to stare you down- nose bumping against yours. You cried out from the impact and looked up at him. He had your attention now. And he began to fuck into you steadily again, but growing in need.

His message was clear.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

And he certainly was not.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[trident-dragion]

The funny thing about early structure decks to me is the central boss monster, the one depicted on the box, was almost NEVER worth playing. Like, Red-Eyes Darkness Dragon, Vampire Genesis, Infernal Flame Emperor, Ocean Dragon Lord - Neo-Daedalus, Gilford the Legend, and Dark Eradicator Warlock were all just worse than focusing on the secondary stuff and lower level monsters that actually made the deck work. Sure, some of them might be good if you can summon them, Neo-Daedalus is probably the most viable of these, but the effort and resources required are just... not worth it? Like compared to today where the cover card of a structure deck is usually incredibly strong, it's wild thinking about how back in the day the REAL build-around card of a structure deck was something like Armed Dragon LV5 or Raging Flame Sprite

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[milqueandsugar]

🏵 Gods and Glory 🏵

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury

| Pilot |

There were few things you hated more than the cold months, you hated having to rely on the village markets for your next meal. you hated never having quite enough wood to keep the cold out of your home, you hated winter. As the end of autumn crept ever closer you found yourself in the forest more and more often. You had spent far more that you would have liked mere weeks ago, having to invest in a new axe after the handle of your original splintered You didn’t have the funds to rely on the local village as you usually had, deciding canning was your only hope this winter you had ventured into the forest before dawn broke, a few monsters still lurking in the shadows. You were no stranger to the blade, living on the outskirts of town you had grown used to brandishing the weapon, even as the day had melted well into the afternoon you kept your free hand close to your hip were your sheath lay, the other gripping tight to the basket brimming with mushrooms and berries you had come across from the forest floor. 

Despite the chill of the breeze that tugged on your cloak and hair you found peace in the bustling forest, the birds had recently begun to migrate south and they were as loud as ever. Wolves and foxes alike seemed to have the same idea as you, lurking around for anything they could stuff in their bellies. Of all the things you hated about the winter, you did enjoy how busy life was just before the first snowfall, everything after that was awful however. Relishing in the sound of bird song while you could you had almost missed the bushel of shiny red berries that gathered under a particularly tall pine. Almost. A smile brought its way to your face, sweet berries, your favourite, you could practically smell the sweet berry pie already as you placed your basket down and carefully plucked the delicacies from their thorny confines, your hands receiving a few pokes and scrapes for their greed. 

You had hardly time to think up many other recipes before something else red had caught your eye, at first mistaking it for crushed berries with a chill you quickly corrected yourself, blood. Quite a bit of it as well, at best it was a lucky wolf, at worst someone had been hurt out here. Swallowing nervously as you rose, you had seen far more wolves out here then usual, so chances were it was an unfortunate sheep, and as much as you were tempted to fill your mind with delicious sweet berry jams and wine, the worry of an injured hunter or traveller haunted you. You couldn’t not know. 

The grass had thankfully yet to brown, which made following the blood trail fairly easily. You weren’t much of a hunter, but you did grow up in a hunting community, from the distance of the blood drops you could tell that whatever was running wasn’t going very quickly, and was slowly even quicker. Your prayers for an injured sheep fall on deaf ears as your eyes trail to a nearby tree, a smear of blood vaguely hand shaped was far to high up for it to be any animal. Your heart dropped in your stomach but you kept pace, someone definitely needed your help. With your quickened pace it wasn’t long until you had caught up with the unfortunate soul. Catching sight of their boots first you nearly trip over yourself rounding the tree they leaned against.

Or he you should say. 

Leaned against, the man was clad in green, from his cloak to his tunic, the only thing that didn’t seem to be one shade of green was the strange black armour that didn’t seem to reflect the sun that burned brightly above and the white mask that hid the strangers face from view, a few blonde locks of hair poking out from behind it. His clothes were fine. With gold stitching and embroidery that shone, whoever he was this man was one of importance, not many wore garments like these, let alone his detailed chiselled armour.  Although odd, the mans peculiar fashion wasn’t the first thing on your mind. The arrows that pierced his chest and leg were your immediate concern. Moving fast you bring his arm over your shoulder, lifting him with a bit of trouble, his armour and tools that hung from his belt only adding to the weight of the built stranger, not to mention he was limp in your grasp, you were more dragging him then anything else. You were determined however, you weren’t just going to let a man bleed out, even if they were a little weird. You had hardly walked a few feet when how far you were going to have to walk clicked into your mind, adjusting the man’s arm around your shoulder you huffed, he was going to owe you so much for this. 

“come on big guy, let’s get you home.” 

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ix)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, sex jokes, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: a lot of requests came in last week, so cool and thank you for sending them in!! i’ll try my best to write them if they weren’t originally what i had planned for this series bc they’re so cute kfjdghdf. also hey shoutout to @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ for suggesting the backstory thing! 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Additional Scene   || Previous Part  || Series Masterlist

Hot single in your area! 😈  Find your solemate! 

Somehow it bypasses Bucky’s spam folder and is in his primary email. SHIELD tech is too advanced to let fake mails like this reach him and this doesn’t make sense. Unless it was one of the stupid dating websites he signed up for.

Leaving aside the obvious typo in the subject, he clicks on it, hoping it doesn’t unleash a virus onto his computer. 

He’s instead greeted with a poorly Photoshopped picture of you at a bar with a martini in your hand. He doesn’t have to look too hard to see that the martini is, in fact, an emoji. Off to a terrible start already. 

Right beside it is an even worse image, an imitation of an early Internet chat box.

Harbinger of Doom just sent you a message! 

Come to the empty lot near lair. Bring goggles. 😩💦

Decline/Accept

He wants to strangle you. 

______

“Why did you curse my eyes so early in the morning?” He spots you at the top of the lair, speaking loudly so that it hopefully reached you. 

“What?” you yell back down instead. “If you’re saying something, I can’t hear you.”

He rolls his eyes. He pulls his phone from his pocket and presses on your contact. 

He watches the look of confusion morph into one of slight surprise when you reach into your pocket and pull out your call.

“Don’t ever send an image like that to me again,” he says directly.

“If that one image is too much for you, how will we ever make our sex tape?”

His mouth opens and shuts like goddamn fish.

He can hear your laughter even without the phone.

“First of all- stop laughing- first of all, a sex tape is never going to happen. Second of all, I have a debriefing to go to, we need to make this quick.”

He holds up a finger when he sees you begin to say something. By the look of trouble painted all over your face, he knows it’s going to be a dumb innuendo. 

“Thirdly, why are you standing there?”

“I watched The Last Airbender,” you say once your cackling dies down.

“I like that show.” He did. Peter sometimes watched it when he came over and Bucky more often than not joined in.

“I know, you told me.”

Oh. 

“Okay, what now?” 

“Put your goggles on.” You take one step towards the ledge. 

“What are you doing?” The goggles don’t do anything to shield him from the sun, considering that they’re not tinted. Maybe he could invest in those.

You send him a smile, taking a step further. His walk towards the building turns into a jog, then a sprint when you’re basically standing on the edge.

You spread your arms out like Jesus Christ himself before flinging yourself off the building. His stomach drops.

His phone falls to the ground, discarded to the side as he sprints to break your landing. 

It never comes. 

Instead, a gust of wind smacks him in the face, forcing him a few steps backwards. 

“I am now an air bender.” your eyes shone. “Kind of.”

Just like that, the show was ruined.

He wipes the dust on from his glasses that he now understands why you made him wear. Considerate, for a person who nearly just gave him a heart attack. 

“Why.” It’s not even a question, just a statement. 

“You know how the Tower has a giant ‘A’ on the side?” 

He stares at you. 

“I‘m gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of it.”

Pepper would not like that. 

“That’s not even evil.”

“Yeah, but it’d annoy your super friends,” You do a flip midair, testing out the repulsors that were tied around your palms, “and I’m the voice of the people.”

You’re too high for him to reach. He doesn’t have his tools, or anything useful on him considering that he never had to use them before. He couldn’t even launch himself at you from the side of the building because you’d just move out of the way. He could jump really high but it would just have the same consequence.

He could talk and keep you distracted but that worked once, it wouldn’t again. At least not for long. 

Fuck, he really had only one option. 

He leaves you to do your somersaults and turns, walking over to where he dropped his phone. It’s an upgrade from the brick he was using a while ago, but not a high end Stark model. A smartphone, but barely.

He sighs, punching in the number and holding it up to his ear.

“Who are you calling?” you yell from above him. 

“Go back to your shitty aerobics,” he yells back.

You pause for a second. “Was that a fucking pun, James Bar-”

The dial tone ends when someone picks up. He diverts his attention back to the call.

“Hey man, I-

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“It’s probably something stupid,” Sam doesn’t even sound annoyed, just uninterested.

“I need your wings.”

“I was right. Bye.”

It was a long shot anyway.

“Fuckin’ hold on a second.” He sees you disintegrate a concrete block by having it drop from the air. “You come here and fix this, then. She’s air bending now.”

“...like Avatar?” Sam unsurprisingly got the reference. 

Peter’s interests were usually shared by everyone in the Tower, just because they had to compensate for the teasing he had to endure. It led to a lot of geeky documentaries and occasional musicals. Bucky wouldn’t be caught dead humming songs from Thoroughly Modern Millie under his breath. 

“Yeah.”

“You want me to come and fight your girlfriend,” he says slowly. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Bucky urges, “and yes, I need help. Can’t exactly reach her when she’s twenty feet above me.”

“We have a briefing in 30 minutes. Why did you even go there today?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. Just looks up at you smacking one of the repulsors against your thigh when it sputters for a second. It’s tradition. 

“Well?” Bucky ignores his question.

“Fine,” Sam’s voice is distant for a second as he agrees. “Clint’s asking if he can come too.”

“Fuck no.” One of them was more than enough and Sam was way better at negotiation. 

He hears a faint profanity from who he assumed was Clint before the call cuts.

He takes a seat on the ground and waits.

“You’re not going to make any effort to stop me?” You have your arms pressed to your side, palms pointed downwards to keep you afloat.

 “I could just throw things at you again.” He makes a mention towards the small pebbles.

“I will fuck you up if you even try,” you warn. He lifts his arms in surrender. “So that’s it. You’re just going to sit there.”

“To be honest, I couldn’t care less if you painted the building,” he says with the least amount of interest he could muster, not that that was very hard.

“Do you not like your team?” 

“I do.” He isn’t lying. “But they’re little shits.”

“I can draw a couple of dicks on their window, no problem,” you say offhandedly.

He looks up at you through his fingers. “That won’t be required.”

Although it was appreciated. 

“Cool, so then I’m gonna go.” You make a mention of the utility belt on your waist. He looks at the many spray cans that decorate it. 

“What colour are you going with?” he interrupts quickly. Fuckin’ Sam. What was the point of wings if he couldn’t get here in 2 minutes?

“Red, probably.” You look down. “I got purple and white just in case.”

“Building’s dark, red is good.”

“You really don’t care, do you?” You lower yourself down to the ground, a few feet ahead of him. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” For fucks’ sake, Sam. “You really don’t like superheroes, do you?”

“I don’t have anything against them.”

“Then why do you do this every week?”

This was wading into personal territory and he did not like it. 

“Well.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Because I want to. It’s fun.”

“No other reason?”

“Do I need to have another reason?” You push your palm downwards, sending you back up into the air. “Can’t I just be evil because I want to?”

“Sure,” he says. He’s heard worse reasons. “Why not?”

“Besides, if you think I don’t like superheroes then you should meet Jake.”

“Who’s Jake?” He hadn’t ever heard you mention him before because he’d remember if you had.

“My roommate.” 

“I didn’t see him when I came over.”

“That’s because we’re not conjoined at the hip.” It takes you a second to stabilise. “Besides, he grabbed the water while I got the bracelet but he refused to come say hi.”

Bucky looked down at his wrist. It was still there. He found himself fidgeting with it more often than not.

“He hates superheroes?”

“He has a valid reason.” Your eyes widen in worry when your head suddenly dips. 

“What is it?” He knows the height at which you’re at isn’t very dangerous but if need be, he’s close by. 

“Come find out.” Your eyes shone mischievously. “But yeah, no reason for me to be evil.”

“Not even a tragic backstory?” 

“None. But if you want it, I can give you one, Barnes.” You test the waters, seeing how long you can lie horizontally. “Can’t promise you’ll like it though.”

“Try me.” He has time to kill. He’s a good listener.

“Well, it all started with my family- a troop of gorillas.” You flip over to lie on your back. “They practically raised me, they did. Until my gorilla mother died and I was all but consumed by grief and-”

“Your mother was a gorilla?” He entertains the notion. 

“Or was it my father?” you ask thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I don’t remember. Anyway, I met a-”

“Just to clarify, none of this is real, right?” he interjects. 

You stare at him. He stares at you.

“Bucky, that’s the plot of Tarzan,” you say slowly, “or at least whatever I remember of it... which I’m beginning to realise isn’t much.”

“Just clarifying.” He leans back again.

“Anyway so then when my mother, the deer-”

“Gorilla.”

“Whatever. Was killed, I escaped to some place-”

“Where?”

“Somewhere. And I stayed with these seven men-”

“Why seven?” He actually remembers watching this movie with his sister when it came out. An early memory, a bit faded. He remembers how long he saved up for the ticket.

“Because character development. And then I realised the reason my life was so weird was because there was a rat controlling me by pulling on my hair-”

“What the fuc-”

“If you ask any more questions, I’m going to stop.”

Bucky blinks at you. “So that’s your backstory.” 

“Raw and uncut, baby.”

“Just to get this straight, your mother, the gorilla deer-”

“Witch.”

“Huh?”

“She was a witch who stole my hair.”

“Wha-”

He’s interrupted by the giant shadow cast by something that flies overhead. 

Fucking finally. 

He doesn’t even have to look up. Sam does a small glide to the ground, landing gracefully beside him.

Bucky finds you speechless but straightened up from your earlier posture.

“Buck,” Sam greets him.

“Sam,” he says in return, getting up from his place. 

A grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Sam Wilson. No way.”

“You’re Y/N, I’m assuming?” Sam offers, posture relaxed. He clearly wasn’t here to fight. 

“The one and only.” You tear your eyes away from Sam to glare at Bucky. “Barnes, if you had told me we were expecting guests, I would have dressed better.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows in suspicion at you. You’d dress up for Sam. 

You dressed up like a suburban tourist dad for him. He was feeling the offence incoming. 

“Can’t count on him to be useful in any situation.” Alright, he did not call Sam just to have the both of you team up against him. 

“Normally I’d agree with you but he did just invite you here, so...” you trail off, looking at Sam expectantly. 

What the shit.

Sam smirks. Bucky switches rapidly back and forth between the both of you.

“I see why Buck keeps coming back every week.” It doesn’t take long for him to catch on, enlisting a feeling of triumph from you. 

“I can’t see why he doesn’t just stay at home everyday if this is the view.” You gesture to him.

This is not what Bucky wanted.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupts, “what is going on here?”

“Pure chemistry, I’d say.” You’re half tempted to bite your lip to seal the deal.

“I agree.” Sam just nods, completely and utterly serious. 

You think that you’ll give him a gift basket just for playing along despite meeting you for the first time at that moment. 

“Get a room.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Maybe we will.” You tap your finger against your lip in thought. “How do you feel about Indian food, Sam?”

“Very positively.” 

Bucky grits his teeth. “If you’re not planning to spray paint the Tower, can you just hand over the repulsers so we can go home for the day?”

You let out a small tsk in disapproval. “See what I have to deal with?”

“Can’t imagine how you do it every weekend,” Sam says dryly, not wasting a second in replying. 

“Hello?” Bucky waves his arm around. “She’s the villain here.”

“Your face is the villain here.” You tear your eyes away from Sam only to glare at him. “He won’t even wear a cape. Why am I the only one who brings their A-Game every week?”

“Sam just get the damn-”

“You should wear a cape, man.” Bucky’s absolutely sure that even Sam knows it’s a ridiculous idea.

“I’m not wearing a fuckin’ cape,” he grumbles. 

“What are your thoughts on swords, then?” Your finger finds a place under your chin in deep contemplation. “You’d look great with a sword.”

Bucky buries his face in his palms. “Sam, for the love of God.” 

“Okay, alright.” Sam finally gives in with a small chuckle. He runs a few steps to get a small head start before launching himself into the air, whizzing past your levitating figure. He does a neat little flip midair before matching your height.

Showoff.

“How difficult are you gonna make this, Wilson?” you ask, a smirk on your face.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky exhales, looking at the both of you through his goggles. 

“What’s your play here?” Sam calls out loudly.

“Was gonna spray paint ‘asshole’ on the side of the Tower.”

“After the ‘A’?”

“After the ‘A’,” you confirm. 

“Now that’s too small,” Sam tutted. “You gotta think bigger. Paint the whole Tower.” 

“Sam!” Bucky looks horrified. 

“Hmm.” You look like you’re considering it. “Don’t have enough paint for that though.”

“You’re an evil genius, right?” Sam casts a small glance at Bucky. “At least that’s what he tells me.”

“You talk about me?” You grin at the disgruntled man on the ground. 

“I don’t,” he mutters, shaking his head. A lie.

“Yeah, so build something,” Sam points out. “Get some more paint. I’ll even tell you the best vantage points to spill it.”

“No, he won’t,” Bucky shouts from below. 

“He’s just cranky because he didn’t get his prune juice this morning, ignore him,” Sam dismisses him.

Prune juice? He was a young 100, not ancient. 

“What’s your favourite colour, Falcon?”

“I like red.”

As annoyed as Bucky is right now, he stores that away in his memory for later. He also knows Sam loves seafood and a good pair of shoes. 

“A couple of gallons of red paint it is, then.” You lower yourself to the ground, Sam slowly follows suit until he lands beside Bucky.

“You know we can’t let you go without taking those, right?” Bucky tilts his head towards your invention.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t budge.

“I’ll tell ya what,” Sam pipes in instead. “I’ll keep them until you finish getting the paint and once you’re done, we’ll make an evening out of vandalising the Tower.” 

Bucky may not enjoy his company all that much but he admires Sam’s diplomacy. Of course, you would never make it this easy while reasoning with him.

“That a promise, Mr. Wilson?” You raise your eyebrow at him questioningly but are already in the process of removing the things from your hand. 

“Wouldn’t ever lie to you, doll.” He holds up his hand in a mock swear.

You walk towards Bucky and him, rotating your wrists to get rid of the soreness. “Bold claim for a man who met me ten minutes ago.”

“Feels like it’s been longer.” He sends you a wink and you can’t stop the laugh the escapes from you finally. 

Bucky holds his hand out for the gadgets. You shrink away from him with a click of your tongue.

“Technically, he takes this round.” You send a nod towards Sam, dropping off the repulsors into his hand. “So he gets it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“You gonna keep ‘em safe?” you ask Sam, this time a little more earnestly. 

“Guard it with my life,” he says seriously, pressing his lips together in a line to avoid smiling. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Bucky cuts in.

“You’re going to be late.” Sam tucks the devices into his pocket safely. “You know how Steve gets when people walk in on his speeches. Do you even have a ride?”

“Got the motorcycle.” 

“See you there.” Sam nods. 

“Save me a place,” Bucky says to him.

“No.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Y/N. It was a pleasure.”

“Still holding you to that evening, Sam.” You send him a smile.

“I’m countin’ on it.” He gives you a small three finger salute before taking off, leaving you staring after his retracting figure. 

When the dust settles, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat. “Right. So that was that.”

“Dude,” you let out an exhale. “he’s so hot.”

He murmurs something unintelligible. It vaguely sounds like a series of threats but mostly a list of complaints.

“Don’t you have a meeting to get to?” You turn your attention back to him.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?” You glance at the clock on your phone.

“I’ll just tell them I was on a mission.” Well, sort of. “Besides, what are they gonna do? Kick me out?”

“Fair enough.” You shrug. “Have a safe ride back.”

From what he knows of you and Sam, the both of you were kidding around. But he could never be too sure. He can’t even ask if you were serious about the entire thing because it’s none of his business. 

Were the implications of having his mortal nemesis and other mortal nemesis date important enough to overrule that? 

“Are you planning to skip your meeting, or?” you ask when he remains freezes in his spot, eyes glazed over like he’s thinking about something. “Because if you are, I know this great Thai place-”

“Don’t do that again,” he says instead, shaking his head to jolt him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

“Flinging yourself off roofs like that.”

“Why?” Because it scared the hell out of him, for one.

“Just don’t.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never done dangerous shit like that before.” You narrow your eyes at him, reading his face. “Are you telling me you care about me?”

“No.” His nose twitches. “Just don’t throw yourself off buildings when I’m around.”

“What about when you’re not?”

“As long as I’m not there to witness it.” He shrugs, spinning on his heel to leave. Technically he preferred if you didn’t do things like that at all. 

“Fine. I’ll just have my clone try out all the dangerous stuff for me.”

 He stops in his tracks. “You have a clone?”

“Well,” You squint, “no. But I’m working on it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Bye Y/N.”

“You know, it sounds an awful lot like you’re saying we’re friends.” Your whole demeanour changes and he already knows what’s coming.

“I never said that,” he argues vehemently. “All I said was that I can’t have your murder on my hands.”

“Thus implying that we’re friends. In a fucked up, enemies kind of way.” You positively beam at him. “Aw, Barnes, that’s adorable.”

Adorable? Adorable?

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, bestie,” you gush, dumb grin on your face. “I’ll make us friendship rings next time. What are your thoughts on matching tattoos?”

He wants to cry. 

______

By the time Sam walks into the meeting room, the session’s already begun. He shoots an apologetic look to a monologuing Steve before taking his place at the nearest chair available. 

Something sharp pokes his thigh. His wings are off and in the backpack beside him, but then he remembers your little inventions that were still in his pocket.

He tries not to make much of a noise while he pulls them out, giving them a look over to make sure they’re not broken.

“Watcha got there, Big Bird?” Tony asks lowly from beside him.

“Something that Barnes’ enemy made.” Sam holds it up slightly. 

“The one he’s been rendezvousing around town with every weekend?” 

“That’s her.” He’s about to put it in his backpack when Tony stops him.

“Pass that here for a second.” He recognises it immediately for what it is, interest piqued. 

Sam hands one of them over while he puts the other back in the bag. It’s a metallic circle, not bigger than Tony’s palm, with a thick leather strap to tie it around your palm.

“She made this?” 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Sam mentions towards Bucky who silently slips into the conference room, standing in the corner near the potted plant since there were no more chairs left.

“The balance has gotta be off on this thing,” he mutters to himself, wholly ignoring the brooding man standing in the corner like a Christmas tree.

“She seemed to be manoeuvring it fine,” Sam catches the eye of a lower ranking agent who makes the mistake of glaring at him for talking while the meeting was going on. A few seconds later the agent hastily looks away and doesn’t turn around for the rest of the hour. 

“Could be better.” He uses a much more intricate model for his suits, although this isn’t even half-bad for a homemade version. “Do you know how long she took to make this?”

“Buck says she comes up with a new one every week, so I’m guessing that long.” 

It had a few glitches but it was incredibly refined for a week’s worth of work.

“Interesting.” He gives it a quick overlook before handing it back to Sam who drops it into the bag.

He casts a swift glance at Bucky, noting how he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting but rather to whatever he had tied around his metal wrist, fidgeting with it with his thumb. 

Tony has an idea. 

And that was generally bad news.

Next part