#chartreuse writes

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

DP X DC PROMPT #28

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

Chartreuse

Due to the high levels of ambient ectoplasm, all the citizens of Amity Park gained a permanent change in eye color. They don't glow or flare in response to rampant emotions like true ghosts or the halfas though. They're just an unnaturally bright yellow-green.

The thing is, nobody else on Earth has this eye color, and it's never been seen in the human race until the recently graduated Amity Parkers started branching out to other cities to find jobs.

Nobody paid this any mind at first, though. Many just thought the individuals liked strangely colored contacts or it was a trick of the light. It's not until Danny and Tucker are both hired for positions in Wayne Enterprises that questions start popping up.

At first, the other employees thought the two might be related. It could happen, it's not that strange. However, when both of them said they're nowhere near related, just childhood best friends, it left everyone confused. If they aren't related and they aren't wearing colored contacts, then what are the odds of too completely unrelated people having the exact same strange and unseen eye color?

After a while, everyone just stops asking questions. After all, both men are easy to get along with and are excellent at their jobs, so a strange eye color isn't really something to complain about. Their stares were just a bit more intense than most people, and honestly, they've seen stranger things.

It helps that they've started seeing other people with the same eye color popping up in celebrity, sports, and activist circles. (1)

However, It's not until the power goes out during a late meeting/presentation, and Tim Drake accidentally turns on and shines his cell phone light into Tuckers eyes, that he starts seriously digging.

Needless to say, the animal-like green shine of his pupils scared the shit out of him and got him wondering if two of his new employees were part of a previously unknown alien race that'd recently settled on Earth without anyone noticing. When he looks into the middle of nowhere town they came from, this idea is even further cemented when he sees every person he finds a photo of have the exact same shade of chartreuse eyes. Ignoring the ghost rumors and "sightings" as just a strange tourist trap for the strange little town to make extra income, he brings the info he found to the other bats and birds.

They aren't exactly welcomed when they go snooping around Amity Park, unfortunately... (2 & 3)

✦

Now. To make this a bit more cracky, when confronted, do Danny and Tucker just come clean or do they milk the idea of them being aliens for all it's worth? (4) Add in a few strange, but perfectly normal for them, things they do that have people scratching their heads and make the assumption even worse/more irrefutable. This includes the unexplainable eye shine Tim discovered.

✦

(1) Paulina became a supermodel and is coveted for her striking eye color and beautiful complexion. Dash became a coach for a well known college in Metropolis, while Kwan became a fitness trainer and sponsor for health related items that actually work, also partnered with the college Dash coaches at. Sam became a notorious environmental activist and is the enemy of many companys who are determined to turn the world into a toxic wasteland. With the help of Danny's parents, she's found many eco-friendly chemical compounds that dissolve many of the toxic substances damaging ecosystems around the world. Etc, etc.

(2) Ectoplasm exposure has made everyone a bit more territorial over the town, including their protectors. They don't need outside heroes/organizations interfering with their work and don't/won't take kindly to the sudden interest hero organizations gain over them and their strange little town. That hasn't worked out too well with other government sanctioned organizations in the past and they don't want a repeat, thank you.

(3) Maybe Team Phantom even established themselves right around the same time or even before the Justice League was formed and they just flew under the radar until now. Maybe Amity Parkers feel a bit superior due to their seniority in having an excellent team in the know about the supernatural/non-human side of the world/universe? Who knows? You pick! Amity Park has been through a lot by themselves, so it's no shocker if they have an extreme amount of solidarity towards those they call their own.

(3 cont'd) Also! Since Amity Park has become so rich and saturated in ectoplasm over the years, they were eventually annexed/became an outside part of the Ghost Zone. Jack and Maddy are border patrol and any ghosts coming through need a passport now. Amity Park is basically a vacation hub for ghosts? Ghosts can freely roam the streets, they just don't wreak havoc anymore. That'd basically be terrorizing their fellow citizens at this point anyway and that's a no no. That means jail time with Walker. Amity Parkers also aren't afraid anymore and in fact CAN hit back now. This does not stop the Bat Clan and eventually the Justice League from thinking they're a town full of aliens tho. Some are just more human looking than others. Or they've been on Earth and procreating long enough with humans that their hybrid offspring have also started looking more human, is the ongoing conclusion.

(4) The Anti-Ecto Acts are not an issue here! Team Phantom already dismantled and annihilated the GIW years before they even thought of leaving Amity Park on its own. Before graduating highschool even. Yes, Team Phantom is perfectly self-sufficient and able to handle their own problems and have kept the city-wide ghost infestation pretty isolated outside a few events that were handled quickly and with the world none the wiser. So the world is still pretty ignorant of the existence of ghosts/the Ghost Zone. Would Team Phantom and Amity Park prefer to keep it that way though?

[nomiqbomi]

Updated designs for Fophid and Lepignito commissioned by my friend @plus-sizedscribe! Plus a new middle form, Impodster, and 4 distinct formes that Lepignito can take, based on the environment it evolves in.

More info under the tab!

Fophid are timid creatures with many predators. Their carapace has evolved to blend in perfectly with an arboreal environment. When provoked, it wields the branch-like appendage on its abdomen like a lance. It has no venom, it's quite sharp!

Impodster attaches itself firmly to tree limbs, disguising itself as a small branch. Once it has done this, it is impossible to detach until it evolves. (It would be much easier to take the entire branch with it!) It does not budge, even after being discovered. Individuals who have camouflaged themselves poorly can often be found with leaves full of holes, made by bird Pokemon that attempted to carry them away.

When Impodster evolves into Lepignito, it takes on a perfect likeness of its immediate environment. Four unique patternings, based the biomes it occurs in naturally, have been officially recorded; however, it is believed that new patterns could be created by evolving the pokemon in a unique environment.

Even when their immediate environment does not match the markings on their wings, they somehow still manage to obscure themselves from view. Many theories have been pose as to how they are able to do this, but none have been proven, as this behavior is quite difficult to observe.

It prefers to sit motionlessly and evade detection, but when provoked, it uses its stealth to confound opponents and catch them unawares. Once the opponent has become disoriented, it flies off into the shadows, never to be seen again.

---

The line is based on the Peppered Moth, which are a famous example of natural selection that has actually been observed and recorded in real-time. The moth originally evolved to camouflage against lightly-colored trees, but a melanic mutation became more genetically favorable during the industrial revolution, when the trees became blackened with soot. After environmental standards were introduced, the white variant became common again. Today both variations can be found, and they are often mistaken for different species!

Plussized-Scribe helped conceptually with the variations/typing, with his own rom-hack in mind. I may add more variations for my own fan project.

I had originally designed Fophid to camouflage with the forest floor, but during my redesign I found out that the peppered caterpillar camouflages itself as a tree branch. I thought that was neat, to I went with that angle instead.

I also added a middle form to make it a better counterpart for the Pareyeva line who use the opposite form of self defense!

Edit: @plus-sizedscribe wrote some really great Pokedex entries for his hack that he allowed me to share here as well:

"Unlike Sewaddle, the leafy bits Fophid sport are not fashion statements, but specialized organs for camouflage. In autumn, their bodies release chemicals to redden the organs and match the foliage.

The base of the headcrest pulls double duty as a third mandible. Thus, Fophid can chew better while also maintaining camouflage, as the shaking of the crest resembles a leaf trembling in the breeze."

"Having secured themselves on a sturdy tree trunk, Impodster steadfastly await evolution. Very little can dislodge these Pokémon, which are nearly helpless if they happen to end up on the ground.

Impodster with poor camouflage are often found with leaves full of holes. These are made by naïve bird Pokémon attempting to carry them away, only to realize they picked almost the worst prey they could."

"Some people claim to have fallen for a person who always wore a long coat, only for their lover to turn out to be a Lepignito. The veracity of these bizarre anecdotes is suspect, to say the least.

Lepignito live in trees whose bark match their wing patterns. They boast different patterns to blend in with the available types of trees in the regions they inhabit. At least 25 different varieties are known."

[sketch-twentytwo]

Tch, how dare you. I’m supposed to be the one who takes the lead….

[kivaember]

that idea i had for branch raven finding 621 post-FoR and forcibly kidnapping adopting him... a teaser below the cut...

-

The medium freighter ship, Tapio, was an old, beaten-up interstellar craft that had gone through at least three different Christenings since it had fallen into Branch’s control. When Chartreuse had liberated it from its original owner (some two-bit grey market smuggler who had bitten off more than he could chew), it had been named The Golden Fleece. Raven had let her rename it to Cheese Board, which lasted for only a few months before King changed it to the far more mundane Star Skimmer.

Chartreuse couldn’t really remember when they had changed it from Star Skimmer to Tapio, but it hadn’t been long after they made plans to run the PCA blockade over Rubicon-3. Even grey-market ships like these were aggressively tracked and logged whenever it so much as paused to take a fart in some piece of shit asteroid port, so scrubbing the identity was essential prep for big operations that would land you in some UEG gulag on Pluto.

They’d probably have to change it again, now that their business was concluded on Rubicon. It was Raven’s turn, and knowing them, they’d think of something either utterly boring, or thoroughly deranged. They called their pet cat Emergency Rations of all things, after all.

(To date, she still wasn’t sure if Raven was being tongue-in-cheek about that…)

Speaking of that cat, though…

Chartreuse grumbled as she shovelled soiled cat litter into its bin. The freighter was built with a crew of at least ten in mind, so Raven had dedicated an entire room to the little beast: cat trees, little platforms for Emergency Rations to parkour off of, toys that functioned as trip hazards for the unwary, and this monstrosity of a litter box that was huge and a massive pain to clean out.

Emergency Rations, as imperious as a queen overlooking her lowly subjects, stared down at her from one of its demonic cat trees. It was an ugly creature, in Chartreuse’s opinion: thin, scraggly fur with bald patches, one missing ear and crooked whiskers, with a broken meow that sounded like the strangled croak of a frog. Probably why Raven adopted it; they had a soft spot a mile wide for broken, ugly things.

“How do you shit so much?” Chartreuse sealed the bin shut and pushed it aside. “I swear you do it just to fuck with me.”

Emergency Rations just blinked its ugly goblin eyes at her.

Chartreuse finished up her daily task of tending to the beast’s comfort and slouched out of the ship’s cattery. After a brief detour to the ablutions to wash her hands, she went to the central mess hall that now functioned as a sort of communal area for Branch. The depressing steel benches and tables had been shoved against the walls and replaced with a battered sofa they’d rescued from a dump, and an old-world TV set with a video player and everything.

Chartreuse had no idea where Raven magicked up these relics, or why they had a taste for such useless antiques.

“The beast’s been dealt with,” Chartreuse declared when she walked into the living area.

King acknowledged her with a raised hand, not looking away from the TV screen. He was sprawled out on the sofa, so Chartreuse sat on the armchair. It was technically Raven’s armchair, but they weren’t here right now - too busy committing terrible life choices and all that.

“Is Raven still not back?” she asked. “We sure that rabid dog didn’t eat him?”

“Haven’t heard a thing since they left.” King picked up the remote and paused whatever was playing on the TV. He had a deep frown on his face, his expression troubled even if it didn’t show in his voice. “Their operator would’ve told us if things had gone sour, though.”

Chartreuse grunted.

It’d been only two days since the Second Fires had swept through the Rubicon system, an event they had only survived because they’d been in the process of leaving said system. They’d been mere moments away from engaging the C-Wave Drive to slip into subspace, only to perform an emergency leap to the nearest stellar body when a surge of volatile energy came exploding out of Rubicon-3. Thank god for that small planetoid they’d managed to shelter behind…

But instead of getting immediately out of dodge the second things settled down, Raven had all but commandeered the ship and started gunning back towards Rubicon-3 like a man possessed. When it came out that Raven was hunting down his successor… well, words were exchanged and Chartreuse may’ve thrown a chair at them, but Raven got their way, as always, and now they were here, twiddling their thumbs and waiting for Raven to come back with a potential rabid dog in tow.

“We might have to figure out a naming system if they do find him,” King said idly. “Raven Senior and Raven Junior, maybe?”

“Who’d be the senior and who’d be the junior?” Chartreuse drawled. “That Gen Four is probably a grizzled old man. Our Raven isn’t even thirty.”

“Guess they’d be junior then.” Somehow, King maintained a straight face as he said this. “We could always call the Gen Four after his designation. C4-621, if I remember rightly?”

“That’s…” Chartreuse wrinkled her nose. “So corporate.”

“Hound, then?” King shrugged. “It’s up to Raven, I guess. It’s their name they gave away.”

A name that the rabid dog had technically earned in the same way their Raven had. As sour as Chartreuse was about the whole thing, she grudgingly accepted and respected the dog’s hustle and fire. He’d trounced all three of them in a straight fight, and it was done purely through skill. The things he’d done with that laser dagger were obscene…

But Raven had always been Raven to her. She still called them that, hell, they all did, but if their successor was found and brought into the fold, then they’d have to bow their heads to proper tradition and accept the dog as Raven, and Raven as… Nightfall.

Ugh. She still hated that name. Nightfall. It was a name an edgy teenager would pick for their social media account.

[tentacledwizard]

apologies for my awful mousewriting

THIS IS AMAZING!!! you have no idea how happy this makes me cfl :D THANK YOU

[5amanthus]

I want to finish some writing tonight, but instead I’m rereading V-Crew and one-shots/going on a Chartreuse binge.

[heirofgriefalwayspresent]

Word of the day I had to learn while writing: Chartreurse.

The word "Chartreurse" alludes to a liquor of the same name, and is used to refer to a yellow color of metal hue, made with approximately 135 herbs, plants and secret ingredients. Interestingly, the Carthusian monks were the ones who invented this liquor in the French mountains where they lived since 1084, with production of the spirit dating back to 1737 with instructions left behind in 1605 by  François Annibal d'Estrées, a French marshall and diplomat.

One of my favourite things about trying my hand in art (specifically writing) is just how much one learns while furthening his craft. The more one tries to write about, the more situations like the one in which I had to search up what Chartreurse meant will come up. In all honesty, I find it very pleasant.

A glass of Chartreurse. Apparently, it used to be an "Elixir of Long Life", which was why the marshall gave the recipe to the order in the first place. They ended up loving the drink so much that they further refined it and ended up selling them by themselves. Good on them, to be honest.

[minhosimthings]

Silk and Pearls || SJY

Synopsis: He was the artist, and you were his muse. But what happens when his muse doesn't see herself like the way he sees her?

Pairings: fashiondesigner!Jake * Model!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, fingering, mirror sex, anal sex, unprotected p in v (not for you), bondage, use of handcuffs, edging, degradation, praise, sorta angsty in the beginning, insecure reader, overall good ol bf Jake, lots of kissing cause these two are FREAKS

A/N: hello my babies 😚 So here is the promised fashion designer Jake fic this was kinda fun to write because I was extremely horny lol. Anywho ENJOY

"Did I really make a dress that pretty or is it just you, my love?" 

You felt your cheeks warm up drastically at the sound of your boyfriend's voice, along with his face appearing behind you. You saw his eyes light up as you stared at him in the mirror in front of you, his wandering pupils admiring how snug you looked in the dress you were wearing. With its brilliant outlay of white chiffon along with its minute details of chartreuse pearls highlighting everything Jake wanted to, it was by far the most beautiful thing he had ever breathed life into. 

Or perhaps it was only because of the person who was wearing it. 

"Don't go putting your hard work all over my shoulders again, babe." You laughed, turning your body to face him, "I'm just the model."

"The model is the muse, might I remind you." Jake corrected you, leaning in to place his forehead on yours, his love-struck eyes gazing longingly into yours, "How did I manage to capture the bouts of your affection hm, mon amour?" 

"You spend one week in Paris for Fashion Week and suddenly you're a romance novelist." You laugh, raising your arms and placing them on either of his shoulders, "As for your question—" you pretended to think, all while ghosting your glossy lips over his plump ones, "—I don't think you'll ever get the answer to that." 

"Shame, I was hoping you'd say something overly sweet about me." Jake laughed, before smudging his lips against yours. His ever so slender tongue moved in your mouth, as his hold on your waist tightened. Pulling away (after what had seemed like a very short amount of time to him) from the kiss, Jake took pride in the fact that you were quite breathless. 

"Jaeyun.” you spoke in a scolding voice, lowering your voice to a comedic level, “We are at work.”

“Your point is?” 

“My point is-” you looked into his beautiful eyes with nothing but love and admiration, “-there are about five people who know about our relationship, and you know you can't get into a scandal, it will positively ruin your reputation, the reputation you-” you poked his chest with your finger, “-worked so hard to achieve.”

“Let them write what they want.” Jake spoke to you in a honey coated voice, as if you were the very oxygen his lunds consumed in order to keep themselves alive, “You, my love, are practically impossible to resist.”

“You better give me your Paris lessons when we get home,” you smirked, eyes wandering down to his lush lips again, “lover boy.” The space between the both of you was practically non-existent now, and Jake could feel the pearls of your dress slightly pierce him through his thin button-up shirt. Perhaps he regretted making such a beautiful dress, especially to dress you up in it, because the way the touch of your thigh on his and felt, he could rip it off right there and then, wasting his months of hard work, and devour you against the mirror. He wished he could see your divine eyes roll to the back of your head, while he ravished your pussy with his tongue, all whilst leaving his personal signature on your thighs. After all, that was what he added the thigh-high slit in the dress for.

“Yeun,” you warned him, as his hand trailed higher up your thigh, only stopping at the sound of your voice and giving a tight squeeze to the flesh, “You can have me all you want when we get home.” The sight of the pout on his face, a stark contrast to the siren eyes he held five seconds ago, made your mouth twist into a gentle smile.

“Don’t blame me if you can’t walk tomorrow morning, love.” He smirked and went in for a kiss, as beautiful as the wavering skyline of the city, all the building lights flickering along with the stars to remind the earth of how alive it was. In the deepest parts of the kiss, where your lips danced to a tune which you had memorised, love reigned its gentle rule.

____________________________________

The sound of makeup palettes being tossed on tables and brushes full of powder and eyeshadow being dabbed against porcelain skin overwhelmed you. The world will always see the perfect last outcome, of straight eyeliner that could cut stone, legs that could send Gods to their knees begging for mercy, lips that anyone would want to press infinite kisses to, and bodies wrapped in artworks. But they would never see the background of it all, the painful ordeal of sitting in a chair for hours to manipulate the face of a doll. Your ass had already gone numb ten minutes ago. 

“Alright, spill it to me. You have transfiguration powers right?” you joked, looking at your hair-and-makeup artist, Sunoo, who was running his slender fingers through your hair, making sure every strand fell into its correct place.

 “I went through painful cosmetology courses, just for you to call me a witch?” Sunoo scoffed, surveying you with a satisfied look on his face, ”Gee thanks for the compliment Y/N.”

“I’m joking you asshole.” you rolled your eyes, taking his outstretched hand and helping yourself out of the chair. Your butt silently thanked you, as you stretched your limbs, “Well don't I look pretty today?”

“Yes hon, the show-stopper obviously has to look pretty.” Sunoo sassed, putting his hands on his hips, “Jake really outdid himself with this one though, I am loving the pearls.”

You tried to keep your smile to yourself at the sound of your boyfriend’s name. Jake had made some ‘structural’ changes to the dress a night before the show so that it would fit more alluringly on your body. That is to say, he made the changes after getting inspiration from an hour’s session in your bedroom. 

“I just hope everyone will like it!” you said with an air of happiness.

“Of course they will.” Sunoo reassured you, “because number 1, it's on you and number two, it is on you.” He spoke every word with force, giving you his foxy smile before disappearing, telling you to wait in the room until someone called you. 

Sighing to yourself for no particular reason, you went back to admiring yourself. You truly looked regal, like some badass assassin who was going to murder someone at her wedding, a gunshot wedding, would be the perfect theme for Jake's next show, you thought, taking a mental note to tell him. After all, he did love experimenting with his reds and his whites. The door to the room was slightly ajar, which allowed the sounds from outside to enter. You moved towards it to close it. Stopping at the handle, at the sound of your name. 

“...not like she even has much talent. She’s literally getting in because of her boyfriend.” one of the girls, dressed in mauve silk told the one next to her. 

‘Wait, her boyfriend?” You heard the other one say, now shielding yourself from view with the door whilst eavesdropping. “Yeah, I’ve heard rumours you know?” The mauve girl said, “that her boyfriend is Mr.Sim, the designer. It makes sense wouldn't it?” she let out a crude laugh, “She’s not even that pretty and suddenly she gets to be showstopper. Yep, she’s definitely whoring herself out.” She laughed again, along with the other girl.

You felt your stomach sink as you quietly closed the door, not wanting to hear anything else. Is that really what the other models thought of you? That you were only here because of Jake? That you were only using him for your own benefit? 

You stared at yourself in the mirror again, brushing back the slit to reveal your leg. Your eyes wandered down the length of your entire body. What you had once so happily admitted, now looked like an ugly piece of flesh to you. Each imperfection caught your eye and you could feel the tears brimming at your eyeline. 

“Y/N!” you heard Sunoo cry out. Quickly swallowing the lump in your throat, you called back out, feeling relieved to see his face appear in the doorway. “Come on hon, you’re on in two.” Sunoo smiled, “Ahh you look so pretty!” he smiled, extending his hand to help you walk outside in your heels, “They’re gonna love you.”

“Thanks Sun.” You managed a smile, stepping out onto the boundary of the runway, where the show manager would give you the cue to walk. Taking a deep breath, you took on an expression of calm, to represent the serene and elegant atmosphere of the dress. And with a wave of the manager’s hand, you walked.

One foot in front of the other, you stared at the imaginary dot in front of you, just like you had been taught, with your heels clacking perfectly to the beat of the background music. The walk to the end of the runway had always felt so long, and this time was no exception. But as you reached there, and struck your pose, smiling for the cameras to take their pictures, you couldn't help but think about what the girls were saying earlier. 

Not now Y/n, you thought to yourself, pushing that thought to the back of your head, and concentrating on your current position. Giving your signature grin to the cameras, you spun on your heel and walked back, stopping in the middle to reveal your leg from the slit. You could hear the excited murmur from the crowd, smiling to yourself at the satisfaction you got. You struck your final pose with all the other models assembled on the stage, and then the pandemonium of roses and applause broke out. The people clapped like never before, and you could hear someone calling out Jake's name. You remained in your position until you felt a warm presence next to you, skipping your hand into his and guiding you along with him down the runway again.

Jake had never looked so beautiful, you thought, with two spikes of his  hair framing his face perfectly, like a lion’s mane. You tried to not let your eyes linger down to his chest, which remained open against his suit. God damn did he look handsome. You couldn't remember much of anything that followed. All that you thought about was the warm feeling of Jake's hand against your skin, and the way he bragged to everyone about his showstopper. 

Yet, there was something at the back of your mind that kept biting you. 

____________________________________

“You’re quiet today, love.” Jake commented, as you silently put your washed plate back on the shelf. He had noticed how low you had been ever since coming back from the show. At first he brushed it off as you being tired, after all, modelling is no piece of cake. But the fact that you had spoken less than five words to him even after taking a nap was concerning. 

"Just...tired." You mumbled, giving him an unconvincing smile. Jake tilted his head to one side and motioned for you to sit down next to him on the couch. 

"And do tired people usually cook dinner for their boyfriends instead of ordering pizza?" He asked, making you chuckle, "What's wrong sweetheart?" Jake placed his hand gently on your thigh, leaning in closer to you. You took a shaky breath in. 

"Yeun, you love me right?" Jake's entire world seemed to pause at your question.

Whatever did he do to make you ask that ridiculous question?

"Baby what are you saying?" He asked, sending you a soft smile, "Of course I love you and if this is about me taking the last cookie, I swear I'll ask Jay to bake you more."

"No, it's not that." You laughed, bringing your head down, "It's stupid really, I shouldn't even be worried." You took another deep breath, "I just heard some of the girls talking to each other today, you know saying some crap about how I'm only the showstopper because I'm your girlfriend and everything." Before you knew it, you were rambling, "And I really do love you, you know. I'm not only in this relationship because I want to use you or something and i know I'm not really that pretty for you to love me but—"

"Y/N."

The sound of your name dropping from his lips silenced you. You stared down at your legs, fiddling with the edge of your (Jake's) shirt, until his fingers intertwined into yours. His touch was warm as always, comforting like the sea breeze on a beach day. 

"Baby, look at me." Jake said, prompting you to lift your head, "Properly, Y/N." He said again, when you avoided his eyes. Jake smiled when you finally looked him in the eye. 

"I don't want you to ever think even for a second that you're not the most beautiful human being I've ever met." Your eyes widened at his soft words, "Baby, you were the showstopper today, because you worked hard for it, not because you're my girlfriend and the love of my life." A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, "And I'm going to need the names of those girls right now, for extremely unrelated reasons."

You burst out laughing, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from your right eye. "Are you going to murder them for me?" You asked, to which Jake put his finger to his temple and pretended to think, "I'm not going to bail you out Yeun." You said, slapping his chest playfully. 

"But seriously though—" Jake's eyes softened, as he took your hands in his, bringing your knuckles to his lips to kiss them, "—I love you so much, I'd go to the ends of the Earth if you asked me to." He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "And if anyone ever thinks that you didn't work your fine ass off to get where you are, they'll be very close to the 'Jake firing list'." 

A moment of silence followed before the both of you burst out laughing at his statement. Jake took the opportunity to pull you by your waist closer to you. 

"Well then—" Your eyes wandered from his eyes to his lips, "—can I perhaps see that list?" Your body was practically merged with Jake's, with his hands slapped on your waist, and your arms around his neck. 

"Well then we would have to go to my studio wouldn't we?" Jake said in a lower tone, biting his lip. His eyes stayed on yours, as he swiftly lifted you up, making you wrap your legs around his hips for support. Your breasts were extremely close to his face, a fact which Jake was relishing. A giggle erupted out of your mouth as his hands gave a squeeze to your buttcheek, his feet slowly leading the both of you into the bedroom. 

“I assume your studio is your bedroom then?” You laughed, as Jake entered the darkly lit bedroom, the only source of light being the faded night lamp that he kept for ‘the aesthetic’. Jake chuckled before going in for a kiss.

It started as a small kiss. A peck. A brush of the lips so gentle you barely felt it until he pressed his mouth to yours fully. There was no tongue, nor any breathlessness when he pulled away and looked at you again. But you could feel the shift in the air. The drop in your stomach and sudden stillness in the room while a white noise clouded your head. 

“The bed is right there, Yeun.” You said, eyeing him suspiciously as he carried you across the bed and towards the huge dressing mirror. Jake said nothing, choosing to set you down very close to the mirror, while his hands gripped your waist. He knew he had gotten you trapped in between his arms, just the way you liked it. You’re a little light-headed, blistered beneath the skin, needy and fidgeting. Maybe you want him to hold you still, to fit you tight against him, to fight against your struggle—something carnal deep down that gets off on his strength, the power you know he can wield over you.

“How about I show my beautiful princess how pretty she really is hm?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck ever so slightly.

He manoeuvred you so you were facing the mirror. He was right behind you, his eyes hard. “The woman you're looking at right now is the prettiest one I've ever seen. How can you say she's ugly?” You opened your mouth to say something, but a moan escaped instead as he bit into your shoulder. 

 He began to press you flat against the mirror. The cool touch of glass on your cheeks combined with his hands reaching underneath your shirt to squeeze your breasts made you let out an unholy noise. Jake smirked as he heard you moan, his ego was filled to the brim as he realised how wet he made you just from his touch. 

“Ah fuck Yeun,” you moan to him as his palms knead your breasts through the bra. You barely had time to notice his hands leave your chest, as he grabbed the edges of your shirt and pulled it off of you in one swift motion, leaving you almost naked in your bra and panties. You felt his erection press through his pants to your ass, as his lips started trailing down your body, pressing heavenly kisses until your hips. You whined as his hands gripped your thighs, squeezing them as if they were stress toys. 

"You look away from the mirror even once…,” he said, his hands squeezing your thighs roughly, his legs now carrying him back up to place his chin on your shoulder, his face set in a smirk, “and you won't get to cum.”

 His hands squeeze your thighs harder, bordering on pain. “Shh princess,” he said, slowly yet firmly as if talking to a child. His hands move downwards, one moves to your hip, and for the other, his fingers slip inside your panties. You whimper when his fingertip touches your clit.

 At any other time, he would have been slow, and gentle when he was rubbing the bud but now? His touch was fast and unconcerned, his sole goal was to inflict punishment with pleasure. 

Jake's finger flicked out against your clit again, making you yelp and squeeze your thighs against his hand. Your hand pressed hard against the mirror, as you looked at Jake's smug face behind you, while yours was contorted into one of absolute pleasure. This time he ran his finger up to your clit and then back down and into you. You moaned, practically riding his fingers at this point. Jake laughed, digging his hands into your hips, uncaring if he broke skin.

"Yeun—Yeun ah fuck!" A string of broken moans escaped your lips, as you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. Your mind has forgotten all about the incident of the morning, your attention now only on the way his fingers fit inside your pussy, like a glove. The pace of his fingers fastened, as his middle finger drove across your clit, repeatedly assaulting the place Jake knew drove you crazy.

"Yeun!" You screamed, your tears staining the mirror, as you felt your pussy clench around nothing when Jake's fingers pulled out, “Wh-”

“Told you princess.” His mutter in that seductive australian accent of his drove you crazy, “Eyes away from the mirror means no cumming.” You silently seethed at him smirking behind your shoulder, as his lips latched onto your skin once more, pressing marks all over as if it were his personal signature. His fingers hooked underneath the waistband of your panties, as you easily moved them off of you, with you lifting your legs to give him better access. Jake chuckled silently with how obedient you were being. Soon, he was quickly unbuckling his pants to unveil his already hard twitching cock eager to pound into you. 

“gonna let me fuck you princess? gonna be a good girl for me?” he says, stroking his dick as he swipes his thumb over his slit wiping away his precum yet it still spews out, covering thumbs in the substance.

Your eyes widened and hurried, almost rushing gasps left your mouth in quick succession which, combined with the low guttural groans coming out of Jake’s throat created an almost perfect melody. His thick length was taking its sweet time in spilling your ass apart, completely tearing you open, until you were panting from just the entrance. Jake’s low, mocking chuckles left your mind empty, as his hands pulled your waist flush against him, trying to bury his cock in even deeper.

“Yeun-I can’t!” you cried out in desperation, although all you wanted was for the entirety of his length to be bruised deep inside you, “Slow down!”

Your whines resonated against the walls of the room, as light particles of fog started appearing on the surface of the mirror, gathering at the place where your mouth was repeatedly moaning both profanities and Jake’s name, turn by turn. The tip of his cock was practically hitting your cervix at this point, and you were on the verge of fainting, with your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Eyes on the mirror, princess.” Jake reminded you, smirking at your fucked out expression. He always did love making you feel like putty in his hands, and this was no exception. Your eyes snapped back to your reflection and they trailed over Jaeyun behind you. His handsome face was set like a painting, with two strands of his hair framing it in a delightfully sexy way.

His hips hit you harder, giving you every inch of him. “Fuckkk.. princess, you’re doing such a good job -- taking me so goddamn well,” he says, punctuating his words with another hard thrust.

His expression grows almost enamoured at how you're squeezing him-tense, as he thrusts into you, balls slapping against your ass at his relentless pace. Hot, searing pleasure makes its way up your spine-emitting a low, almost inaudible, squeal from you as he pinches your clit.

He fucks you in earnest, feeding you his cock like you haven’t had a meal in years. All you can do is watch, admire the look of his face, the perspiration that gathers on the edge of his hairline as his fingers grip your legs harder. 

You’re a babbling mess — crying out with every thrust. It’s mostly wordless, except for when his name leaves your lips like a prayer. The room is filled with the sound of his balls slapping your ass, that wanton sound of skin-on-skin.

“Fuck-gonna cum.” You hear him mutter in that same sultry voice that could get you cumming without him even touching you.

“Yeun, ah—ah,” you moan, but he cuts you off, the sound of skin-on-skin fills the air.

Jake groans as his balls draw up and begin to tighten. Now deep inside you, as the pressure finally breaks and he lets himself go, spilling every ounce of him into you. Heaven and hell collide in that moment, blurring into a world where only you exist—like nothing else matters but the two of you tangled together, lost in the alchemy of it all. You feel the hot liquid drip down your thighs as you lay your forehead against the mirror, your chest riding and falling periodically as you attempt to calm down. You were so caught up in your cock-drunk high that you didn't even notice Jake pulling out slowly, releasing more of his cum onto your skin.

"Good girl....took me so well." Jake praised you in muttered words from behind, making his own breathing steady, "Bed, baby?" 

"Thank you." You sighed, feeling sleepy as ever, completely oblivious of the fact that Jake was not about to put you to sleep. 

You couldn't comprehend what happened in the next few moments, just the fact that in what seemed like mere seconds, your back was pressed against the soft mattress, with Jake's face inches from yours as he loomed above you. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"Think you can take my cock again, pretty?" He asked you, with a lopsided smirk on his face, "Or is my baby too tired?" 

"N-No." You stuttered, the feeling of his breath on your skin made you shiver, no matter how warm it was. You must have been in this position at least a hundred times, but it always got you feeling like it was your first time when you were all nervous and shaking beneath him.  

Jake chuckled, pressing another one of the thousand kisses he had given you, and reached over (with some difficulty) to the bedside drawer. Pulling it open, he drew something out. 

"How about these for tonight hm?" He asked, dangling the handcuffs above your face, "Will you be a good girl for me?" 

You said nothing, dumbly nodding to his every word. Jake took your wrists in his hand and pinned them above your head. Your arms stretched properly, before he latched them up to the bed frame, you winced at the cold touch of the metal. You always had wondered why the frame was made up of twisting coils of iron, before you got your answer in the form of handcuffs.

Jake leaned in once more, this time, pressing a chaste kiss to your jaw, effectively silencing you. You tilted your head back, giving him better access to the crook of your neck. You sucked in a shaky breath as you felt the points of his teeth grazing feather light across the sensitive skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin and heat settling in your lower stomach. You could practically feel him smile against you at your reaction, ever so cocky to see you melting into his touch

Jake settles between your legs, sliding his hands under your thighs to gently manipulate you upwards. His bare cock slides through your slick folds, the head catching on your clit and making you groan in unrestrained want. You reach out to grab his body, dizzy with desire, but you can't. Your hands are bound with the cuffs so tightly, that you couldn't even reach the lock.

You can only cry into the dark night, feeling his throbbing cock stretching out your walls as he pounded you in so hard there was sure to be a dent in the mattress. Your walls would remember the stretch and think only of him. 

“Yeun—S-slow down…” You mewled, juices spraying out and coating your clit as it drips down, teardrop shapes sure to stain your face.

The back of your head presses as tight as it can against the pillow, you were stifling the guttural moan that rips from your throat. You could die like this suffocated and blissfully impaled on Jake’s cock and be happy. Your hands, bound tightly above you, itched to reach out and take his hair into your hands.

With a tight grip on your waist Jake fucks into you at his own pace, watching how easily you accept him, covering him with your essence. It feels fucking fantastic. 

His skin slaps against yours rhythmically. You swear you can cum at that moment but he knows all your tells and he slows his pace, pushing into you only when the tip remains. Long, slow strokes keep you from cumming.

“Yeun–Jaeyun~” You whine, already so close to cumming, “Please–let me cum,”

Jake responds with a harsh chuckle, almost a scoff, as if to ask how you even dared to say those words. His already slow movements slow down even more, practically stopping at the point, which only made you titchy and uncomfy. That boundary that was present at the pit of your stomach was ready to break, but Jake wasn't about to let it.

“Not until you say you’re my pretty girl.” He smirks, his cock still buried deep inside you, unmoving. You scoff at his words.

“I'm your pretty girl.” you say, in an almost bored voice, wanting nothing more than for him to get moving, “Now can you please–”

Your sentence faded into a deep groan, as Jake's cock swiftly pulled out from your pussy. It was painful, agonising even, to feel nothing but cool air at the tip of our labia.

“Nicer, baby.” Jake whispered, but just as you opened your mouth, you were stopped by the intrusion of his long finger into your gasping hole.He chuckles quietly, snaking a hand up over your stomach. the rough pad of his hand finds your breast, kneading it in his palm whilst his other hand holds you firm against him. His gaze is still trained on you, dragging over the lush sight of your flushed face, your lips parted in small pants, the dark look in your eyes. He loves watching you fall apart at his smallest ministrations. more than half of his pleasure comes just from working you up like this, pushing you to the brink without even trying. 

“Alright, I'll give you a little help.” Jake says, his free hand reaching cover to your hands. With a click sound, the handcuffs trottled off of you, leaving your hands free to finally reach out to him. But he wouldn't let you, not until you've done what he wanted you to do. 

“Did I cover your mouth?” his words echo as he pins your wrist over your head once more. “Answer me, princess.” 

“Yes!” You screamed out, unable to take his teasing anymore,”Yes–fuck I’m your pretty girl!” And that’s all he wants because he’s dropping you down, shoving his entire dick inside until your eyes burst with tears feeling his thick trimmed hair tickling your clit, completely bottoming out. 

“Yeun…I-I need you more please.” your eyes were filled with tears as you held his hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp, the other digging into his shoulders as you drooled. Such a mess in such a small time. Jake shuts his eyes and throws his head back.. 

“Oh—ohhhh—fuckin’—,” a string of pleasured sounds is leaving his open mouth and you follow him, reveling in the sensation of him pushing your walls apart, filling you nicely like no one has ever had.

You both are moaning, chasing your climaxes with increasing intensity. You tilt your hips a little to press your pulsating clit against the fluff of his pubic hair and grind your pussy over his lower belly. Jake’s cock moving deep inside you, your clit twitching in his coarse hair, all the sensations combined light up your body.

"I love you," you whimpered when his hips began to grind into you, giving your clit that extra stimulation you needed to feel your orgasm swell low in your belly, your jaw dropping and your breath quickening with each forceful thrust, “God–I love you so much!” Your last words faded out in a scream.

“Yeun, i’m close,” you sob, your voice shaking. You feel his hips snap against yours, skin slapping in the quiet night as he drills you into the mattress. The room smells of him, like cologne and something woody, and it drives you even closer to the edge. He’s taking over your senses; the sight of him hovering over you, muscles in his abdomen clenching and rippling as he fucks into you is enough to make you scream on its own. 

The bed sheets are fisted in your hands as you hold on. Your nipples brushing against the bed with each thrust. It doesn’t take long at all for you to titter over the edge. Your pussy squeezing tightly around him, milking him for all he’s worth.

 He’s not far behind, hips meeting yours with a force that is almost painful, though you’re far too distracted by the fireworks blooming behind your eyelids. You feel him spill into you, hot seed pouring into your soaked cunt and making your thighs shake. His groans are hoarse, a couple grunted curses and growls of your name joining your chorus of moans in the room. He sits up once you’ve both ridden out your high, heads swimming as he watches his cum spill from between your legs when he pulls out.

"fucking hell..." You hear him swear under his breath, wincing at the absence of your hole wrapped around him. Nevertheless, he swiftly moves towards the bathroom, to fetch you a towel. You didn't have even an ounce of energy in your body to lift your head, so you resorted to letting it stay on the pillow, whilst your legs stopped shaking from the wondrous orgasms that your body had experienced.

"Baby do you wanna take a b-" Jake froze, at the foot of the bed, towel clutched in hand, and eyes set on you. You looked so calm and serene, taking shallow breaths as you snuggled into the mattress and slept. Jake chuckled at the sight.

Not wanting to wake you up, he gently wiped your legs with the towel, and—after cleaning himself off, slipped into the bed next to you. You automatically adjusted to his warm body next to you, practically throwing yourself onto him and using him like a mattress, but he didn't mind. Jake pressed a kiss to the side of your head, and only squeezed you closer, as if you'd float away if he let go.

"I love you." He muttered with a lovesick smile on his face, before he eventually drifted off to sleep, "My pretty baby."

Fin.

Taglist: @onlyhyunjin @yvnempire @j-jinxee @kpopaussieline @candewlsy @heesingshoon @biancaness

[4unnyr0se]

Hi!! I saw your posts that you're busy writing reqs, so sorry if this ask is too much now!! Could you write a pt 2 for the tinder match with ushijima? :3 I liked your writing sm and I need more fics with him 😭

❥ tulips and roses | wakatoshi ushijima

part two of this drabble

warnings: timeskip! usjijima, fem! reader, experienced! reader, ushi isnt a virgin and he KNOWS how to fuck now, fingering, cunnilingus, making out, kitche counter sex, protected sex, ushi is so serious i adore him, lewd language, size kink but only if u squint

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 1.2k

a/n: hopefully i did this big guy justice. i wrote this when i literally just woke up lol

got a request? my asks are open!

“Fuck!” echoed through your apartment, your hands bunching up Ushijima’’s chartreuse hair in little clumps as he lifted you onto your kitchen counter with no struggle at all, his large and calloused hands squeezing the fat of your hips. You giggled as his meadow eyes stared at you with such a longing desire, a desire for more of your guidance. “You really missed me, huh?”

“You have absolutely no idea,” he groaned, melding his lips with yours in a frenzied kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to yourself. His teeth bit down onto the pout of your bottom lip, rolling it between the pearly whites. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since that night,” he broke the kiss, aiming to pepper your neck with delicate nibbles instead. “About what you did to me.”

“You mean how I took your virginity?” you giggled, tilting your head to the side so he could suckle on your delicate skin. “I gotta admit, it was one of my better hookups.”

Ushijima chuckled into your neck, his hand wandering upwards to grope your breasts through the thinness of your white tank top. “I’m glad I could make you feel that way. You were…” he pulled his lips away from your neck, staring longingly into your eyes. “Spectacular.”

“I’m flattered,” you purred, trailing your hands across his shoulder, your fingertips dancing along the toned muscles. “So, what did you have in mind today? Since you’ve been craving me so much, ‘Toshi.”

He groaned as his given name fell from your lips, his thumb pulling down your soaked panties with ease. If he knew you had only slept in a tank top and panties, he would have offered for you to spend several nights in his penthouse. “You’re dripping for me,” he sighed at the sight, sliding the rough pads of his fingers up and down your glistening heat. 

“When did you learn to talk so dirty? Had any other encounters since last week?” you moaned softly, your face contorting in pleasure as he carefully inserted his index and middle finger inside of your cunt.

“No, it’s just been you,” his nose brushed against your clit, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. “But I’ve seen videos. I’ve done research.” he curled his fingers inside of you, your hands clenching onto the granite countertops. 

“Shit,” you whimpered, spreading your legs further apart for him, your glistening heat fully on display. “I-it’s paying off, your fingers are amazing, ‘Toshi.”

“I wonder if my tongue will be amazing as well?” he offered you the ghost of a smirk, gently kissing your soaked folds while his fingers continued their ministrations inside your core. He flattened his tongue, sliding the muscle up and down until he had a taste of your slick. You squirmed above him, the slow and sensual pace driving you mad. 

Ushijima practically made out with your pussy, his tongue swirling around your throbbing clit as he felt your gummy walls contract around his fingers. This meant you were close. He was sure of it. He pulled his fingers away, his mouth leaving your clit.

“Why’d you stop? I was so close!” you whined, blowing your hair out of your face. Ushijima didn’t respond, only taking off his pants and boxers. A condom rested between his soaked fingers, the metallic packaging shining in the moonlight of your kitchen. 

“Because I want you to cum on my cock,” he plainly stated, kissing you briefly. He easily ripped the foil with his teeth, sliding on the latex. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel the night you took my virginity.” his hands pried your legs apart even further, the tip of his cock teasing your soaked entrance.

“Don’t be a fucking tease, ‘Toshi,” you muttered, arching your back forward. “Fuck me already, please.”

“So demanding,” he whispered against your ear, snapping his hips against yours. His massive cock filled you up instantly, the sensation still being incredibly foreign to you. You choked out a sob, your hands choosing to find purchase on his sturdy shoulder blades instead of the kitchen counter. “That’s what I like about you, darling,” he thrust into you again, this time a bit sharper. “You take what you want,” another thrust. “When you want it,”

“Fuck, ‘Toshi! T-too big!” you cried, your legs wrapped around his waist once more for support as he pounded into you, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass filling the room. Every thrust was calculated. He knew exactly how to make you scream his name. He was a prodigy at everything he did, after all. 

“You can take it. I know you can,” he kissed your neck, grasping onto your hips as he fucked into you, adoring the sensation of your gummy walls squeezing around him. “So fucking tight for me, hm? Tell me, darling,” he bit down harshly on your neck for a moment, sucking on the skin. “Did you touch yourself to the thought of me?”

You nodded in agreement, letting out a cry of both pain and pleasure as the head of his massive cock finally hit your G-spot. “Y-yes, ‘Toshi! Missed your touch, fuck!”

“I missed you as well. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you wanted me,” he apologized, gently kissing the blooming bruise on your jugular. “You’re fucking squeezing me. Are you close? Use your words, darling.”

“Mhm!” was all you could choke out, pleasure causing your brain to grow fuzzy. He fucked you like a man gone wild, but yet he was simultaneously so calculated with his movements. “M’gonna cum!”

“Then cum, darling. Don’t hold back now,” he ordered, his cock twitching inside of you.

Your world disintegrated around you as your orgasm finally came, your slick coating the latex that encased his cock. “‘Toshi!” you cried, clawing desperately at his shoulders as he fucked you through your high. He did not relent after your orgasm stopped, instead choosing to chase his own nirvana. His thrusts became sloppy and uncoordinated, the thought of his release consuming his mind.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum,” his deep voice rumbled, his lips finding themselves on yours once more. His tongue pried your mouth open, exploring it once more as his seed filled the condom. His thrusts slowed down until they came to a halt, his cock resting snugly inside of your heat. 

“Was that good enough for you?” he asked, pulling away from the kiss. He pecked your forehead, sliding the condom off of his length and disposing of it in the kitchen trash. 

You nodded, giggling slightly. “Yeah, it was. You’ve really improved since we first met.”

“I aim to improve all aspects of my life, including how to fuck,” Ushijima offered you a small smile, a rare sight indeed. “I don’t think I’ll need any other women, though,” he placed a hand on your shoulder. “I have only eyes for you.”

He took a deep breath and pecked your cheek again, the faintest shade of pink ghosting his cheeks. “Would you like to come to one of my games sometime? I can assure you that we will win.”

You chuckled and cupped his cheek. “I’d very much like that.”

[taylorswiftstyle]

2024 Golden Globe Awards | Los Angeles, CA | January 7, 2024

Gucci gown

Let it be known my Roman Empire is painted a shade of aurora borealis green. 

I’m biased. I love it. You’re buckling up for a rave. But everyone knew that, right? 

I want it on record that no one should be surprised when they see this lewk on the TSS Favourite Outfits of 2024 list. And that I’ll devise some maniacal strategy to make it make sense to include in every annual list from here to eternity.

Let's get the obvious out of the way in that this shade of green could easily be interpreted as very snakelike and thus a nod to reputation and its forthcoming re-recorded version. I'd even happily apply it to the teal-y and springlike green of debut if we want to go debutation on this.

But if we are to talk about Gucci we have to talk about the precipice the house is upon right now. As it relates to Taylor, I suspect her dress (specific shade TBD - Chartreuse? Apple? Pear? Some other adjacent fruit that’s a feast for my eyes?) is a preview of Fall 2024 and a clear indicator of the path the new creative director Sabato De Sarno’s will take the brand in. Which is to say, muting the eccentricity of Alessandro Michele’s era of Gucci that brought the brand to a new level of renown in favour of something cleaner and sexier. Nicole Phelps for Vogue already noted that De Sarno’s first collection for Gucci — Spring 2024’s Ancora, meaning ‘again’ in English and released in September — evokes a Gucci when Tom Ford was once at the helm, praising De Sarno’s approach to “the upfront sex appeal of those ’60s-by-way-of-the-’90s shapes, and straight riffs on Ford hits” while “establish[ing De Sarno’s] essentials, focusing on cut and proportion, and repeating shapes for emphasis.”

Indeed, Taylor’s gown is directly reminiscent of a Fall 2004 look from Ford’s Gucci - all green sparkles and sexy disco energy. This makes sense when we consider De Sarno’s history and homeworking when he decided to take the creative director post. He told WWD, “Gucci to me equals luxury … the first fashion piece I ever owned was a Gucci jacket by Tom Ford. I still remember I traveled to Rome to buy it with my friend … luxury was really not part of our world. Television was the only way to see fashion for me back then.” He added, “My ambition is to build an aesthetic message with an edited collection that is mindful of Gucci’s heritage and close to my own aesthetics.”

When we consider my personal history with Taylor and Gucci, I don’t have to look very far to immediately picture one of my all time favourite Taylor looks — the 2014 Grammys when she wore a sparkling Gucci Première column gown which is not too dissimilar to this one. What can I say, I’m consistent. The shape, the perfect kiss-the-floor hemming, and obviously the divine colour that really pops on Taylor will have me swooning for a long time. 

At the end of it all, what I come back to is De Sarno’s sentimentality to naming his first collection: Ancora. Again. He told WWD, “Ancora is a word that you use when your desire is not over yet … I want to fall in love with fashion all over again — ancora.” In the same interview he said, “I like words a lot, they have weight and a precise meaning, they convey emotions, so I like artists who use words.” 

It dawns on me that Taylor’s light is shining at its brightest now as she highlights, celebrates, and - indeed - falls in love with all the versions of herself she has ever been. Revisiting her eras past again. And again. In every re-record. In every step she takes on stage. In every cutting line she writes in ruminating and revisiting the experiences of her life and translating them into song. She’s flitting, flirting, memorializing all her past selves in celebration of their summation of her current self. And that’s what this ‘era of eras’ has been. 

So if this is De Sarno’s Gucci I say welcome. Ancora. 

Photos by Monica Schipper/GA and Amy Sussman via Getty Images

[luvtak]

be my valentine, hhj x reader

✧ genre/tw brain melting fluff, just a little moment of being in love with hyunjin and accidently getting covered in paint, kissing, petnames, unedited.

✧ w/c 1156

✧ a/n ginger write something other than fluff challenged: failed. i wrote this inspired by the song valentine by inhaler and the way it makes me feel as well as the fact that hyunie deserves to have a very sweet love story <3 i hope you like it!!

Looking at him was as painful as the song’s he chose: he was so bright and incandescent that even in small domestic moments like this one,  filled your life with an almost harmful glow. Like a star, he was burning fast and bright and sometimes it felt like he would burn right through you. 

He was gorgeous and funny, and he was all yours. 

It’s an interesting thought, the fact that this independent and lone star would see you and pick you out of a million souls. An unforgettable moment, the way his eyes glanced down at you when he asked to dance–sultry and cool, and unbelievably sweet. 

He looks a bit like that now; paint covering his lifted hands, sweeping over the plains of his cheek to swipe the dark hair out of his eyes. Glancing at you over his painting, a work in progress you were not allowed to see–a valentines present, he said. The look gleaming off him pressed an ache right into your tummy.

 Gazing at him always felt like a gut punch; A tornado of butterflies reaching from his outstretched hands right into your middle. 

The music playing from his phone is melancholy, a slight betrayal to the smile eclipsing his lovely face. As it plays, he sings along, following the woeful melody with that out of place grin. 

“Hyunie, why are you always listening to such sad songs?” it’s a question you’ve asked a hundred times, and always received a different answer, but this time he only shrugs. You know it's hard for him to respond when he’s painting–focused only on the glide of his brush and the mixing of colors. Reds, blues, greens, etc. shades ranging everywhere from chartreuse to periwinkle, mixing and matching with a wave of his hand. 

“Sad songs are only sad if you are,” he answers late. “Like this one, only the melody is sad, the rest is happy.” 

You try to listen closer, see the music from his eyes, but ultimately the ballad still feels melancholy. Lilting notes piling on top of each other and easing the words, it reminds you of him… the graceful way it speeds up and slows down ; passionate and intimate, beautiful and sad. 

Being unable to admit this to him, you smile, the kind of smile that turns Hyunjin’s knees to jelly and stomach to storms. Secretly, he loves you the most this way: cozy and undone. He has sketches piled up of these moments, you with a book/you cloud watching/laughing with your friends. He adores you, even if he can tell that you don’t like his songs, that you think they’re too sad and wilty. You’re a crescendo of a person, loud and certain, and the music you like follows that. But he can’t help but love you more for listening to him, cuddled up on that tiny chair (surely uncomfortable) just so he can have a bit of company. 

“You look so pretty over there, sweetheart.” Shocked by the shift in his tone you release a nervous giggle and you can feel yourself beginning to warm up. Not like this is unusual behavior for your boyfriend–he’s romantic and glaringly in love with you always, but something about the environment… this tiny room, this beautiful boy (hair pushed back, smile blazing) sends shivers down your spine. 

Laughing, he sets his paintbrush down and wipes his paint-stricken hands off before moving closer. Only taking four steps before he’s in front of you, hands going to your face, hovering gently over the skin of your cheekbones. He never presses down, afraid to dirty your skin with the still green paint on his palms, but the way he’s looking at you gives the illusion that he’s touching you. Raking over your features like a starving man in a desert, lifting from your lips back up to your wide eyes. 

He’s consuming you and yet he’s done nothing. 

You can feel the heat of him, warm palms heating your face almost as much as your nerves. You’ve been together so long now, spent days and months and years becoming intimately aware of his body heat, yet you still feel that familiar shyness creeping up–leading to you biting the side of cheek in hopes of lessening the nerves. 

It’s only when he sees this, you so flustered in front of him, that his hands settle over the side of your jaw. Protective and gentle in his hold, and his crescent shaped eyes smiling at you. Calloused fingers rubbing down your neck, slowly to ease your butterflies. 

“I have them too.” he whispers, and your hands come to his chest, sitting where you know his heart is; beating quicker than you thought possible. How is it that you’re both so nervous? You’ve loved and lost together, know each other more intimately than anyone before, and yet just the sight of him conjures up the nastiest case of jitters. “Gimme a kiss, my love.” He giggled. 

You kiss him once, twice, then three times–kisses that are barely there, mostly just smiles pressed together, lips slightly entwined before releasing–until his hands snake around your waist and pull you closer. Your bodies held against each other like magnets, so close and yet never close enough. He kisses you slowly this time, taking control and easing you into it, lips lingering on yours before moving. Like all things, his kiss is sweet, and he tastes like the dessert you shared earlier: sugary and tart. 

When you move away, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving, his eyes are still closed. And for one moment you can truly see what you do to him–leaving him breathless and rosy. When his eyes open, hazy and lovestruck, you can’t help but to tell him: 

“Hyunjin, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” your voice is hoarse, heart racing inside your chest and you love him. You love him so much you can’t be mad about that paint on your skin, or the uncomfortable itch of his hair scratching your cheeks. 

In response he takes your hand from his shoulder and kisses your palm, right over your love line. High and close to your pinky, you read once that meant you’d have an intense and passionate relationship… maybe it was silly, but you can’t help thinking it must be true, and what a wonderful thought that is. That from the minute you were born you were destined for him; meant to grow up and meet him, to love and be loved in the truest fashion. 

You hope it’s true. 

He kisses you again before going back to his painting, shyly laughing at the sight of you disheveled and covered in paint. He locks in again, focused on colors and shapes, and looks at you one more time, cuddled up and still reeling from the affection, and smiles brighter than any star as he tells you, 

“You’re the most beautiful too.” 

© LUVTAK

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: On Colour

Describing Colour in your Poetry and Stories

BLACK Shadow Black, Dusk, Midnight, Blackbird, Blackberry, Ebony, Black Honey, Darkness, Jet Black, Ink Black, Soot, Onyx, Licorice, Ivory Black, Pitch, Char, Gloom, Outer Space, Creosote Black, Melanite, Goth Black, Gunpowder

BLUE Blueberry, Sapphire Blue Metallic, Tiffany Blue (Pantone 1837), Cobalt Blue, Denim, Aquamarine, Turquoise, Sky Blue, Topaz, Ultramarine Blue, Azure, Cerulean, Oxford Blue, Periwinkle, Electric Blue, Baby Boy Blue, Pthalo Blue, Robin's Egg Blue, Persian Blue, Marino Blue, Prussian Blue

GREEN Leafy Green, Olive, Moss Green, Jade, Lime, Sour Apple Green, Emerald Green, Mint, Kiwi Green, Phthalo Green, Praying Mantis Green, Viridian, Greenback, Shamrock, Sap Green, Chartreuse, Sea Green, Pistachio, Teal, Bamboo, Sea Salt, Celadon Green, Celery, Asparagus Green, Fern Green, Neon Green, Jungle Green, Pear Green

ORANGE Pumpkin, Burnt Orange, Carrot, Sunset Orange, Tangerine, Persimmon, Salamander, Tennessee Orange (Pantone 151), Jack-o'-lantern Orange, Florida Orange, Summer Squash, Pale Daffodil, Smashed Pumpkin, Saffron, Autumn Orange, Macaroni and Cheese, Cadmium Orange

PINK Pink Flamingo, Neon Pink, Bubblegum Pink, Salmon, Peach, Fuscia, Cotton Candy Pink, Rose, Carnation, Thulian, Apricot, Atomic Pink, Barbie Pink, Hot Pink, Amaranth, Flushed, Glitter Pink

PURPLE Lavender, Purple Haze, Grape, Eggplant Purple, Plum, Violet, Orchid, Psychedelic Purple, Amethyst, Lilac, Boysenberry, Mulberry, Wisteria, Bruised Plum, Indigo, Mauve

RED Blood Red, Copper, Maroon, Strawberry, Watermelon Red, Crimson, Candy Apple Red, Tomato, Brick Red, Scarlet, Cardinal Red, Cherry, Ruby Red, Coral, Sunburn, Hot Lava, Cadmium Red, Auburn, Blush, Alizarin Crimson, Fire Engine Red, Raspberry, Vermillion, Lipstick, Burgundy, Magenta, English Vermilion, Mahogany

WHITE Dirty White, Albino, Chalk, Alabaster, Cotton, Titanium White, Vanilla, Bone White Egg Shell, Marshmallow, Ivory, Pearl White, Almond, Champagne, Blond, Cream, Milky White, Corn Silk, Bleach, Navajo White, Ghost White, Light, Cloud White

YELLOW Canary Yellow, Lemon, Banana, Egg Yolk Yellow, Mellow Yellow, Chanterelle, Mustard Yellow, Corn, Goldenrod, Amber, Pineapple, Metallic Gold, Cadmium Yellow, Wheat, Tuscan Sun, Butter, School Bus Yellow, Yellow Ochre, Citron, Dandelion

BROWN Mud Brown, Beaver, Caramel, Rust, Macaroon, Toasty Brown, Coffee, Sandy Tan, Cocoa, Honey, Chocolate, Burnt Sienna, Mocha, Seashell, Antique Brass, Bronze, Brown Sugar, Chestnut Brown, Taupe, Burnt Umber, Khaki, Dark Sienna, Light Chocolate, Sepia

GRAY Stone Gray, Ash, Metallic Silver, Platinum, Smoke, Concrete Gray, Mercury, Steel Gray, Mist, Titanium, Charcoal, Slate, Sterling Silver, Tungsten, Old Coin Gray, Iron Gray, Chrome, Magnesium, Overcast

MIXED Candy Cane (red and white), Zebra (black and white), Chameleon (many different colours), Ladybug (black and red), Wildfire (yellow, orange and red), Tiger (orange, black and white), Yellow Jacket (black and yellow), Christmas Lights (red, white and green), Rainbow (red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet), Black Pepper (black and gray), Leopard (spotted gold and black), Creamsicle (orange and white), Candy Corn (orange and white), Iceberg (a bluish gray), Marbled

COLOURS: Symbolisms, Associations & Psychological Effects

Black. Especially in Gothic literature from the West, a black colour choice often represents death, evil, grief, and depression. Associated with fear, the unknown and often has a negative connotation. Black clothes can make you look thinner. A black background severely diminishes the readability of most type. Often the go to colour for funerals and grieving. It symbolizes stability and power, which gives a sense of authority. Thus, the black colour often represents professionalism and expertise.

Blue. Has positive and negative connotations in colour psychology. Some writers may use blue to represent serenity and tranquility, instilling a scene with a calming effect. Blue can also signify sadness, melancholy, or isolation. People who find someone very loyal and faithful are often called "true blue". Blue is often considered to be more masculine which is why it is often the colour of choice when choosing a suit. Lighter blues are associated with tranquility, softness and healing. Darker blues are associated with power, knowledge and seriousness. Blue is actually shown to suppress appetites a bit. The colour blue symbolizes wisdom and hope. It’s the colour of peace and confidence. Blue has been shown to reduce blood pressure and pulse rate. It fosters serenity and a sense of belonging.

Green. The colour green often symbolizes rebirth, growth, peace, jealousy, and greed. Green colours may also represent spring and renewal. It is a colour that is very easy on the eyes. Dark green is often associated with ambition. Green suggests stability, safety and hope. At the same time, it may denote a lack of experience in a particular field. Green symbolizes peace, growth, and nature. It is the colour of success, promoting healing and tranquility.

Orange. The colour orange often represents energy, excitement, joy, and creativity. Since orange is the colour of fire, it may also symbolize heat. Since orange is not as aggressive as red, it can actually stimulate brain activity. It is very useful to catch someone's attention, which is why it's used a lot to advertise food and toys.

Pink. The colour pink symbolizes love, kindness, femininity, innocence, and playfulness. Certain shades of pink can limit aggression. Pink may be associated with unconditional love and caring.

Purple. Often associated with royalty, the colour purple symbolizes bravery, spirituality, and luxury. Light purple usually brings up romantic or nostalgic feelings; while a darker shade can make you feel gloomy or sad.

Red. The colour red symbolizes some of the most powerful human emotions, like passionate love or lust. On the other side of the spectrum, this warm colour is also the colour of blood, often symbolizing anger, danger, and violence. It stimulates the appetite. Red is an emotionally intense colour associated with energy, danger, anger, passion and determination. The symbolic meaning associated with the colour red is passion, excitement, and love. It’s the colour of urgency, power, and desire. Red is said to boost hunger and is believed to inspire confidence and excitement. This colour has also been found to increase blood pressure and heart rate.

White. This primary colour traditionally symbolizes innocence, peace, and cleanliness. In Western cultures, the colour white also represents purity and virginity, while it symbolizes mourning in some East Asian cultures. Usually has positive connotations when used and thought of as safe. Associated a lot with healing, simplicity and sterility, which is why it's used in hospitals and healing centers as much as it is. The symbolic meaning of the colour white is truth and sometimes even indifference. It encourages feelings of safety and cleanliness. Clean, white clothes and linens show sterility since stains are easily visible. That’s why doctors and nurses frequently wear white lab coats and scrubs.

Yellow. Writers may use the colour yellow to symbolize creativity, happiness, optimism, and warmth—think of a yellow ray of sunlight poking out from a dark cloud. A common negative connotation of the color yellow is cowardice, popularized by the phrase “yellow-bellied.” Warming effect which stimulates body and mind. Gold is associated with the highest of luxury. When bright yellow is used with black it's one of the easiest colour combinations to see from long distances; when uses with lighter colours it's not so easy to see. Yellow ribbons are worn as a symbol of hope and used quite often to welcome home loved ones. Yellow is the colour of warmth, kindness, and happiness. It’s often associated with optimism and well-being and promotes energy.

Brown. This warm, earthy brown colour may symbolize dependability, comfort, and a sense of being grounded. Brown is also a neutral colour, and writers may use it to represent dullness and predictability. Brown is a colour that is related to very grounded traits such as simplicity, practicality, common sense and hard work. Can also be associated with those that are frugal and not too flashy.

Gray. Lighter grays are often thought of as more feminine while darker grays more masculine. Gray is considered by many to be a neutral colour; the perfect balance between light and dark / good and evil. Pop up the lighter grays and add a little shine to it, and thought immediately turns to silver, which correlates to wealth.

Sources & related articles: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

If these writing notes helped with your poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I'd love to read them!

[borninwinter81]

Queer horror from my teens

I periodically wonder whether these books are still known and read by young goths and horror fans as they were all extremely important to me in my teenage years, so I thought I'd share them.

Though I'm cishet, during the mid 90s two of my favourite authors wrote primarily queer fiction: they were Anne Rice and another author from New Orleans who is now known as Billy Martin.

He came out as a trans man in 2011, however these books were published prior to that so unfortunately you have to search for them under his deadname. This is why I've used that name in the tags on this post. I don't believe the books were ever reprinted with his current name.

Though I loved Rice, I always felt a more immediate connection with Martin due to his vivid portrayal of subcultures like goth and punk, and how it felt to be a teenager who was part of them. I could see myself in many of his characters as I had the same interests, listened to the same music, and shared the same sense of social alienation. Remember in the 90s the Internet was still a reasonably new thing, and many of us didn't have a home Internet connection at all. There was certainly no social media, no YouTube, and no real way to meet and interact with like-minded teens unless you were lucky enough to have another "weird kid" at your school. If you were a weird kid, you likely had very few friends and were bullied.

That as much as anything else led me to seek solace in books written by an author who I felt understood me, and characters who became my friends.

Lost Souls is about vampires in a kind of Lost Boys/Near Dark way. Fans of the YouTuber OfHerbsAndAltars might be interested to know that this book is where the name of his channel comes from - it's a description of the taste of Chartreuse liqueur.

Drawing Blood is about ghosts, a "murder house", computer hacking, comic art and a very beautiful (if rather messed up) romance. This one is probably my favourite of the three.

Exquisite Corpse is about serial killers, set against the AIDS crisis of the 90s. If you like the Hannibal TV series you'll probably enjoy this one - imagine if Dennis Nilsen and Jeffrey Dahmer had somehow met.

Martin doesn't pull any punches when it comes to descriptions of blood and gore, violence, abusive parents or his portrayal of toxic romantic relationships (of which there are many in his books), but if you can deal with those things there is also a great deal of beauty, phenomenally good writing, and a somewhat unique perspective on the supernatural.

Maybe I'm biased, looking at these through the lens of my teenage self. Maybe they'd seem horribly dated to today's young audience. But I still wanted to make this post in case there's someone out there who will end up loving them as much as I did.

[bones4thecats]

MC! Reader Returns and Reunites with Sebek

Type of Writing: Request (Added Part) Characters: Sebek Zigvolt Name: MC! Reader Returns and Reunites with Sebek Original Poll Link: Here Other Parts: Part One Tagged Requester: @twistedcece and @blues824

A/N: This part two to the original request made by the second tagged person above. This features a hint at the original piece, so I recommend, before you read this, go check out the first part that I linked above! Anyways, enjoy!

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

⚡ When you walked through that mirror all those years ago, Sebek went through so many emotions, emotions that he never thought he'd ever go through

⚡ Lilia eventually retired from being a member of the Briar Valley army and watched as Malleus was crowned King of Briar Valley and he applauded as Silver and Sebek graduated and became the personal guards of their new King

⚡ Even though he knew his grandfather, the person he looked up to the most, was happy for him, Sebek couldn't help but feel a large pang in his chest

⚡ You weren't there to celebrate with him...

⚡ Sweet Seven, why was he still thinking about you? It's been over three years, why were you the only thing that was on his mind during his rare breaks?

⚡ Sebek was walking alongside Silver as they stood right behind Malleus, as he was on his way to sit on his throne and discuss matters of borders with the new established leaders of the Queendom of Roses and the Shaftlands

⚡ Silver noticed his friend and co-workers un-easy behavior, and he gave him a light pat on the back

⚡ Even Malleus was kinda off that day for some mysterious reason

⚡ That morning, he had mentioned to Lilia and the two other knights that he felt a spurge of magical energy racing around the atmosphere for some reason, one that he couldn't answer

⚡ It was enough of a warning that prompted the guards to double on staff, leaving Silver and Sebek far more tired and busy than usual, but, they signed up for this

⚡ When the meeting finally ended, Malleus bid farewell to his fellow rulers as Silver and Sebek returned to their posts beside his throne

⚡ Malleus sat down and began to read a book that you had gifted him years ago, and he froze when the sound of a magical burst entered the room, prompting Sebek and Silver to hold their swords up, facing the portal with murderous glints in their eyes

" Child of man? " " Hey, you guys... long time no see, huh? "

⚡ Sebek froze in place as you stepped out, the portal closing behind you as Malleus hugged you, Lilia laughing as Silver smiled, patting your head in a welcome

⚡ You looked around and saw the familiar hair-cut of your long-time love, and when your eyes met across the room, Sebek began to tear up

⚡ You were here... standing right in front of him... now was his chance!

⚡ Walking up to your old friend, you smiled and rubbed your neck as tears threaten to spill from his eyes

" Hey Sebek... how have you be- "

⚡ Cutting you off mid-sentence, Sebek grabbed you by the waist and laid his lips against your's roughly, prompting Malleus to chuckle as the father-son duo took photos of the cute event

⚡ Allowing you both to take a breath, Sebek pulled away from your lips to lay his forehead against yours, his chartreuse eyes staring into yours

" I love you... I always have, Y/N. So please, please don't leave me again... "

⚡ Chuckling as you laid his head in your hands, you pressed a small peck to the half-fae's nose, your answer made every hateful thought of himself go flying out the window

" I will never, ever, leave you alone again, my dear. I love you, Sebek Zigvolt. " " And I you, my one and only. "

[danaewrites]

you with the dark curls (you with the watercolor eyes)

part ii: i wanna hear you speak to me

james potter x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.6k

summary: “Falling in love with your best friend was never a good idea, but you’d managed to do the idiot thing anyway, carrying a torch for a boy who would never look past Lily’s emerald eyes to see the watercolor ones that had always been by his side.”

tags: best friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending, based on the song "dear arkansas daughter" by lady lamb, fem!reader

author's notes: new year, new chapter! i started writing this one back in SEPTEMBER and finally had enough time away from the terrors of calculus homework to finish it. thanks for reading my story so far and i hope you enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent chapter, because i had way too much fun writing it!! i promise that the angst in this chapter *will* be resolved, but it was too deliciously tempting to resist sprinkling a wee bit of hurt/comfort and dramatics in there as well. sorry not sorry!

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii (coming soon!)

“I’ve got no bloody clue how Dumbledore can be so energetic all the time,” you groaned, head in your hands as you peeked out at the headmaster’s more-than-slightly manic grin from your seat at the Gryffindor breakfast table. You were far too sleep-deprived to process his latest choice of garish attire: a bright chartreuse robe covered in plaid polka dots, topped off with what appeared to be rhinestones and tinsel attached to his beard.

Perhaps if Kettleburn hadn’t assigned you three feet of parchment on the seventeen glorious properties of dragon dung yesterday and expected it done by this afternoon, you might have appreciated the headmaster’s creative fashion choices– oh, who were you kidding. There really was no understanding that wizard, even properly rested. James and Peter had made a bet during fifth year on how long it’d take Dumbledore to crack under a constant deluge of pranks in his office, but they’d quickly realized that the man was too far gone to do anything but take inspiration for school events– an idea that was quite frankly, comically frightening, and the sort of thing you weren’t keen on pondering on a normal Tuesday morning.

Sirius wrinkled his nose sympathetically and slid the pile of raspberry jam tarts closer to you. “Late night in the library again?”

You nodded sheepishly, gratefully taking a pastry from the pile. “I honestly don’t know why Pince allows me to stay past curfew. Marauder’s luck, I guess?” Your attention was diverted by the sound of hoots and flapping wings as the morning owl brigade arrived, apparently choosing a kamikaze dive-bomb approach to deliver this morning’s newspapers. Ah, the joys of living at the world’s most advanced magical school.

Sirius, ever the epitome of grace, slipped under the table as a rogue owl zipped past, popping himself back up just enough to throw you finger guns. “Exactly right, doll, exactly right,” he grinned. “Trust me, Marauder’s luck gets you everywhere. And I mean everywhere,” he winked, sending you a lecherous smirk.

“Ew, Sirius, I don’t even want to know,” you sniffed. “I’ve learned my lesson after the mental trauma your tales of Dorcas’ birthday adventures inflicted upon my psyche. Please, spare me the details.”

“What? All I meant was Slughorn’s Christmas Party, of course!” He batted his eyelashes angelically, still partially covered by the tablecloth.

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Last year’s Christmas party? Sirius Orion Black, I refuse to hear another word! What on earth would your ancestors think, with you bragging about such exploits-”

He leaned over, eyes wide with laughter. “No, I meant the one Slughorn is throwing on the 21st, it’s exclusively for us lucky seventh years this time. Although, you bring up some very fond memories… okay, okay, I’ll stop, don’t kick me–”

“What are we kicking Sirius for?” James slid onto the bench across from you, eyeing a groveling Sirius with interest. Peter joined him, but wisely chose to stay away from the ruckus, piling his plate high with the bacon the owls had spared. Remus was noticeably absent, spending the morning resting in the infirmary after a rough night of shifting– which you assumed was much more peaceful than the current chaos at the Gryffindor breakfast table.

“Oh! Good morning, Jamie,” you beamed up at him, passing him the plate of desserts you’d been protecting from Sirius’ nefarious advances. “Morning, dove,” he greeted you, and then paused. “Ha, get it? Morning dove?” He puffed up his chest smugly and nudged Sirius with his elbow in a futile effort to make him laugh. You huffed fondly at his antics. Boys.

Sirius rolled his eyes and took advantage of your momentary distraction, retreating back onto his seat to nurse his wounds– to your ever-growing delight (and Sirius’ woe), you had recently discovered that the Hogwarts girls’ uniform shoes were quite sharp. “At this point we should call you Lames. ‘Cause your puns are lame,” he muttered.

You shooed him away with a brush of your hand, remembering what Sirius had mentioned earlier. “According to Sirius, Slughorn’s hosting a Christmas Party again this year. Let’s pray it won’t be like the last one.” You muttered. James and Peter both looked vaguely ill at the prospect, shuddering in unison. “My tie will never look the same again,” Peter griped, but suddenly sat up straight in his seat. “Hey, wait, we’re finally old enough to bring dates to this one! Without sneaking them in, I mean.” 

Sirius snickered and lightly punched his shoulder. “Why, Petey, got some lucky girl in mind?” Peter reddened and glanced over at the Hufflepuff table, where a certain freckled blonde was chatting with her friends– a move that didn’t go unnoticed by James, who gave a delighted wolf-whistle. “You got a thing for Lucy Abbott, huh? Might want to make a move before Smith does,” he grinned, gesturing to the tall brunette boy who’d just arrived and sharing a knowing smirk with you. You giggled at Peter’s increasingly pouty expression; he’d figure out sooner or later that Smith was definitely not interested in Abbott– or witches in general– but it was entertaining to see him out of his comfort zone. Peter had always been the quietest of your little group, and you privately thought that a bit of momentary romantic angst might spur him to be more assertive. An ironic opinion, considering how your own love life revolved around the fact that your best friend had feelings for someone else… and you couldn’t do anything about it except mope.

Peter scowled. “Easy for you to say, Prongs, you’ve finally got precious Lily-flower wrapped around your finger. I bet you’ve already asked her!”

There it was: another reminder that James wasn’t yours, and never would be. You watched as the Gryffindor boys good-naturedly jostled his shoulder and tousled his curls. James grinned sheepishly, shrugging off their teasing. “Not yet,” he admitted, glancing hopefully at the end of the table, where Lily was chatting with her friends. 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Aw, come on, we all know she’ll say yes this year.” Sirius winced, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced at Sirius, drawn by the movement. “What’ve you got to worry about? Half the population would kill Dumbledore to get one dance with you. The only person who’s got to worry about a date is me– well, and maybe Y/n, I guess.” His face suddenly turned contemplative, looking you up and down. “Are you going with someone?” 

Sirius’ grimace became doubly pronounced at Peter’s tactlessness, and you felt your face heating up. Peter had a way of accidentally hitting on the issues others tried to hide. It wasn’t his fault he’d never heard about your trips to Hogsmeade with a paramour– in fact, none of the boys had. Because there hadn’t been any. You’d spent your entire time at Hogwarts pining after James, and as a result had missed the romantic milestones your classmates had already blissfully bragged about. 

Peter looked at you expectantly, waiting for a response, and you opened your mouth to confess your lack of experience when you spotted a familiar redhead walking gracefully towards your side of the table– to James, you realized with a start. Something within you ignited as you watched her glow with confidence, carefree and lovely as ever. Lily would never pine after someone uselessly; she knew she could get anyone she wanted with the right amount of banter and flirty gestures. You... Well, you weren’t there quite yet, but maybe it was time to take inspiration from the Muggle saying and ‘fake it til you make it’. And before you could think about what you were about to do, you turned to Peter and smiled coyly. “I might.”

James’ and Sirius’ heads snapped up immediately from their perusal of the breakfast lineup as they let out an identical murmur of surprise. “What?” James furrowed his brow, looking you up and down– seemingly trying to discern whether you had taken a holiday from your senses, most likely via Bludger-induced concussion at the last Quidditch match. Sirius merely raised a questioning eyebrow at you. You groaned internally, knowing that you’d have to explain yourself later… although, if your half-baked idea worked, you’d be spending a lot more time with him anyway. For now, you beamed innocently at both of them and took a sip of your pumpkin juice. Apparently, the Sorting Hat had placed you in Gryffindor for a reason- you were either incredibly brave or incredibly foolish to commit to this plan, but with Evans quickly approaching, you saw no other choice.

Peter looked momentarily shocked, then glumly began to assemble an egg and bacon sandwich seasoned with the occasional mutterance of “unfair” and “perpetually single, my arse”.

James’ eyes were still trained on you. “Who is it?” he asked, searching your face again as if he was looking for some indication that you were joking. You shrugged, trying to look casual. “I guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

“Dove-” he began, but Lily finally reached his seat and placed one stupidly perfect hand on his shoulder, diverting his attention momentarily. “Sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but Professor McGonagall asked me to bring you to her office for Quidditch scheduling.” James blinked, glancing up at her and then at the rest of the table. He stood up and focused on you again, expression clouded. “I’ll see you in Potions, yeah?”

Sirius stood up quickly, ushering him out of his seat with a speed you’d only seen him use to gulp down cheap Firewhiskey. He gave you a significant look. “Actually, Y/n and I were just about to take a walk, isn’t that right? So we'll both see you in Potions, what a sublime coincidence, now don’t be late for your meeting–” he chattered on as he shoved James toward the doors of the Great Hall, the latter eyeing him suspiciously but moving nonetheless. Sirius turned to you and pointed to the courtyard entryway. “You. Me. Talk, as in right now.”

Once you were sure that you’d made it out of earshot of Peter and the rest of the Gryffindor table, you wheeled around to face him. “Okay. First of all… I didn’t plan that.” Sirius raised an eyebrow again. “Second of all, I need a favour,” you pleaded, staring up at him with the most adorable doe eyes you could physically summon. They were usually most effective on James, for some reason, but you were sure that Sirius wasn’t immune to your manipulation either. He groaned, resting his face in his hands. “How do you even have a date? Last time I checked, also known as yesterday, you were still head over heels for Prongsie, doll. So do I need to check you for Amortentia or somethi–” He peered out from between his fingers with annoyed realization. “You don’t have a date, do you.” 

You blinked innocently up at him. He let out a long-suffering sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “This is what you need the favour for? You want me to go with you to Slughorn’s party so you can pretend in front of the rest of Hogwarts that you’re not madly in love with Jamie?” 

You grinned confidently up at him and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Aw, Siri, you know me so well. It’s almost as if you were maaaade to be my date for the party...” You fluttered your eyelashes up at him one more time for good measure, trying to hide a smirk. “Alright, alright, stop with the Bambi act, I’ll take you.” He scowled good-naturedly. “You know, this is going to ruin my dating pool for the next month.” 

You scoffed. “As if! If anything, you’ll just have more people fawning over you– temptation of the forbidden apple and all, you know.” 

Sirius brightened up considerably at this revelation. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the beginning, doll! I vote that we match in purple velvet, it does wonders for my complexion–”

You gave a very unladylike snort at the thought of you and Sirius swanning into the party in some sort of horrendous plum-coloured disco getup, and shooed him away towards the Potions classroom. That was an eyesore to imagine sometime when you weren’t about to get a headache from the dim dungeon lighting.

Slughorn greeted you and Sirius by directing you to the front of the classroom with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oho, a pair of latecomers, I see!” He winked at you and Sirius in exaggerated motion. You winced as Snape jeered and nudged Malfoy, who was busy enjoying Flint’s crude gestures at you. Ugh, Slytherin boys. The worst of the lot. Their snickers were quickly stopped by James chucking a handful of powdered wormwood at their heads when Slughorn turned away, making Malfoy’s prized hair appear covered in soot. You shot him a grateful smile. 

“Since you two missed my initial remarks, let’s see if you can make it up by identifying today’s potion, hmm?” Slughorn gestured dramatically to a shimmering green brew in a cauldron next to his desk, cherry-coloured smoke curling off of the top invitingly. 

Sirius shot you a panicked look, clearly not expecting to be put in the academic spotlight, but you shook your head and stepped closer. You smelled something rich and incense-like, which meant that Bumburrel leaves were a key ingredient. And combined with the way the smoke was drifting lazily around your wrists, curling higher and higher… “Brew of Mandelian, sir. Used for sharpened acuity under times of pressure.”

Slughorn gave a delighted chuckle and clapped his hands. “Well then! Ten points to Gryffindor for paying attention in lectures!” He dismissed you and Sirius with a wave, moving on to explain the finer points of ingredient preparation to a very bemused George Goyle as you slipped into your usual seat beside James.

You worked in quiet harmony for a moment, methodically slicing and crushing the slippery beetles needed to give the brew its signature green colour while James handed you the insects. He broke the silence after six beetles (not that you had been counting or anything) with an awkward, “So… you have a, erm, date?”

You huffed, motioning for him to hand you the foul-smelling Moorish tubers next. “Honestly, James, is it that surprising?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “Well, I– yeah, I guess.” he trailed off, seeing your expression. 

“The tubers, Jamie, thank you. I mean, you looked at me like I was a ghost back in the Great Hall!” You were decidedly not making eye contact with him, trying your best to focus on the slimy plants in front of you and not the fact that your best friend-slash-unrequited crush doubted your romantic potential. What a way to be humbled– and while covered in tuber juice, no less!

He huffed, running a hand through his already messy curls. “Come on, Y/n, it’s not like that. What did Sirius want to talk about in the Great Hall, anyway? You two looked… chummy.” 

You glared down at the copper slicing board. “Well, it’s none of your business how chummy we are, is it? I don’t interrogate you every time you converse with Peter. In fact, it’s rather expected that Sirius and I speak to one another on occasion, considering the amount of time we all spend together thanks to you.”

You moved to grab another tuber from the jar, but James reached out and grabbed your hand, forcing you to look at him. His hazel eyes were alight with frustration, a look you knew by heart thanks to the hours you’d spent tutoring him in History of Magic after he napped his way through the entire first semester. “Are you serious? You’re actually going with someone?”

“Please, Jamie, do enlighten me on whyever you think I couldn’t possibly get a date with my numerous and diverse charms,” you sniffed, hoping to Merlin that he would just leave the entire subject alone. 

“No, it’s–” he groaned, leaning back in his seat. “The other boys, they don’t know how– you’re so, I mean, just look at you!” he exclaimed, gesturing at you. He stopped, frowning to himself, looking more confused than before. He glanced over at Lily, expression becoming even more muddled, brow furrowed and hard to read to anyone but you. 

Your mouth parted in shock, and to your dismay you felt tears bubbling up again. You blinked fiercely, refusing to let him see you cry. James thought the issue was… your looks? You suddenly wanted to crawl under Slughorn’s desk and never come out again, except perhaps to find a shovel to dig your grave with. This was far, far worse than watching him transfigure chocolates for Lily every Valentine’s Day. Now you knew for a fact he didn’t find you attractive– thought other boys didn’t either, even! And the way he’d clearly mentally compared you to Lily after what he’d admitted… well. There was no recovering from that. Teenage boys could be dense, but Merlin, how you had wanted him to at least let you down gently. 

You wished you’d never opened your mouth to lie about having a stupid date in the first place, but you forced yourself to laugh and mutter something trite about how that could all be fixed with a couple glamour charms anyway so it really wasn’t an issue for the party, thank you very much. He looked even more confused, opening his mouth to respond, but Snape chose that moment to interrupt.

“Hey, Potter!” James turned to scowl at the greasy Slytherin as you thanked your lucky stars for Snape’s interruption (a rather disturbing thought– potentially a harbinger of an imminent apocalypse. You’d never thanked Snape before in your life and hoped to never do it again). “Here’s payback for earlier,” he smirked, checking that Slughorn had dozed off and the other students weren’t paying attention before whipping a mottled yellow bottle at James.

James’ carefully honed Quidditch reflexes kicked in and he quickly dodged the object, but as the vial soared up, up, past your carefully diced tubers, over James’ messy notes, it hit your arms and shattered. You flinched in pain, crying out as the glass shards embedded themselves in your arm and the congealing, repulsive liquid dripped down your hands and onto your thighs. James lunged towards you, but it was too late– the potion had already seeped into your skin, causing an awful sparking sensation. 

You gasped, grabbing onto the desk as the feeling bubbled upwards. “Jamie, I don’t– I don’t feel–” you stuttered, suddenly lightheaded, and you heard someone gasp as you began to taste something metallic. You absently touched your nose. Why was it so cold and wet? You had been so careful not to touch your face around those horrid tubers and oh, oh Merlin and Morgana what was that pain in your hands and legs, please no make it go away someone help me help me HELP

You vaguely registered someone whimpering in the background. It might have been you, but you weren’t entirely sure what was happening outside of the electric symphony of agony crescending in your nervous system. The pain built swirled flooded through until you weren’t sure where you ended and the potion began which was a funny thought because of course you were you, but you couldn’t remember who you were before this so you laughed but that really hurt, oh how that hurt no no no no no bad idea–  

“Fuck– no–” James? Was he here too?

You blinked– when did your eyes open?– and saw him reach for you, frantically pushing his dark curls off his forehead. Why would he do that? You loved his hair, even when you were feeling funny awful things from the potion. You felt his arms scoop under you, lifting you off your seat as he caught your head from falling back. You heard a door slam open, footsteps, darkness clouding your vision–

His voice. “Sweetheart, no– don’t do that, I need you to keep your eyes open.”

You blinked again, trying to focus on James’ face. He looked pale, jaw set and tensed like it was before his Quidditch games. Were you moving? You couldn’t tell whether James was walking or the hallways were walking around you. He glanced down again, exhaling with relief once he saw whatever he was looking for. “Yeah, just like that. Keep those pretty eyes focused on me, okay?” 

He thought your eyes were pretty? 

James gave a tight laugh. “Yeah, I think your eyes are pretty, dove. Hold on a bit longer, we’re almost there,” he choked out. 

Oh. Had you said that out loud?

But you thought– he had said something, before, you couldn’t remember now but it was important and it hurt–

Some part of you, deep where the potion hadn’t reached, had melted at his words. That part was tinged with pain, too, but in a different way, raw and honest and hopeful and all for him. Or maybe that was the potion, you were pretty sure witches weren’t supposed to melt unless they were green and lived somewhere much further west, but your thoughts on the whole process evaporated as you reached a white door and a woman and your words started to swirl until they melted too and everything went black.

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[necrotic-nephilim]

"--but why should I let you go when you look so pretty like this?" w/JayTim

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

this one was such a fun pick, anon. i will warn you, this one has some... very dark dialogue. the JayTim is absolutely unrequited, but Tim is forced in a situation where he has no other choice bc of some Ra's tomfoolery. you *could* read into there being Ra'sTim as well, but that's not the focus, it's just 2.8k of unhinged JayTim. enjoy <3

Tim had lost count of the days.

He was pretty sure he was somewhere in the range of ten days and two weeks. He couldn’t use how often he was fed as a gauge when it seemed purposefully sporadic to throw him off. There were no windows in his cell.

Not that it looked like a cell, but Tim insisted on mentally calling it one, mostly for fear of Stockholm Syndrome getting the best of him. No matter how large the bed was, with an ornate carved cedar headboard and cotton sheets. No matter the plush carpets and en suite bathroom with a gloriously large shower with limitless hot water. No matter the shelf full of books to keep him entertained and patterned wallpaper.

This was still a prison. Tim was still forcibly attached to the bed by a long chain connecting to a thick metal cuff around his wrist he’d yet to figure out how to pick.

Tim had to let himself believe the lock could be picked. He had to hold onto hope there was some kind of escape.

The real contrast of the lavish room wasn’t the chain, though. It was Tim’s current state, naked and questionably close to bleeding out.

Not that it would matter if Tim died.

Ra’s al Ghul had already revived him with a Lazarus Pit at least four times, and he had made it clear he had no qualms doing it again. And again.

Tim went with ‘at least’ as a mental marker, because he was certain the Lazarus Pit was starting to influence his mental state.

However many times it took, repeating the vicious cycle of coming in to torture Tim until his body gave out, then giving him a violent, unwanted rebirth. Each time, Tim was pretty sure he lost a piece of himself, somewhere deep in those glowing waters.

He was sure he’d been angrier and fighting harder to break free once. Now, that anger was drifting somewhere in the Pit, far out of Tim’s reach. Tim had heard that rapid repeated exposure to the waters of Lazarus could have degrading effects on one’s mental state.

But he never thought he would learn that firsthand.

Instead of fighting and clawing at the wrist cuff like Tim had been doing for days, he just laid on the bed, sprawled out and staining the chartreuse sheets a bright crimson, staring at the cuff. One time, Tim had clawed at the cuff until his nails ripped out of their beds and he was biting a pillow in pain, watching his skin shred trying to pull it apart.

Those injuries, much like his feral desperation, were washed away now. Every scar Tim had earned over the years was gone now. He was losing pieces of himself.

After his next death, Tim promised himself he’d redouble his escape efforts. Run his hands along the walls again, test the door frame, find something that he must’ve missed his first dozen tries. He wasn’t going to let himself rot here and be changed into someone else, just wearing the corpse of Tim Drake.

Ra’s could take a lot of things, but he couldn’t have Tim’s humanity.

For now, though, Tim was just going to lay in the bed, breathing as shallowly as he could. All his body’s survival instincts were in overdrive, making him light-headed and his heartbeat a rapid, fluttering thing, trying desperately to hold on. He had yet to figure out how to get his body to let go of those responses yet.

Because the worst part wasn’t dying. The worst part was the animalistic attempt to survive that came just before his body gave out. Tim’s mind had fought alongside his body the first time he died. The second time too.

By the third, Tim had just naively hoped Ra’s would let him stay dead.

Now, Tim was just tired and waiting for it to be over with.

Just when Tim was considering getting up and trying to speed up the process, he heard a commotion. He lifted his head and squinted.

The ninjas who brought his food were always so silent in how they moved that Tim couldn’t hear them even when they were in the room. So the running feet, the yelling-

The gunshots.

Definitely a fight. Tim snapped back to reality. He sat up as fast he could, trying not to let his body dip and sway the way his perception did. It had crossed Tim’s mind, that rescue would come at some point. But he refused to hold onto it as anything other than a futile last hope.

And even now, it didn’t feel real.

No one who would save Tim used guns. The ninjas definitely didn’t use guns either. Tim carefully wrapped the chain around his fist. Whatever energy was left in his body was better spent fighting like hell than just laying there and accepting death.

The door to Tim’s room slammed open and Tim sucked in a breath.

Of all the people it could’ve been.

“Look at that,” a smug, modulated voice crowed. “I’m the lucky guy who actually found your sorry ass.”

Jason Todd reached up and pulled his Red Hood helmet off, shaking his hair loose. Tim didn’t like the look of his smile.

Granted, he didn’t like the look of Jason Todd in general, but that was beside the point.

“What are you doing here?” Tim hissed through clenched teeth.

Jason just shrugged, walking into the room with slow, casual steps. “Bats wanted to find you bad. Bad enough he was willing to call me and offer a truce if I helped storm the stronghouse.” He shrugged like it meant nothing to him. “Looks like you’re lucky I said yes. You’re already half dead.”

“Others are here?” Tim’s breath caught on his hope.

“The whole fucking calvary.” Noises of a brawl sounded in the distance and Jason spread his hands, as if his point was proven. He took another step forward just as a ninja ran into the room, sword raised and charging Jason. Before Tim could warn him, Jason shot the person in the head over his shoulder, making them drop to the floor. A full-bodied flinch went through Tim at the sight of blood spraying the beautiful wallpaper. With an annoyed huff, Jason turned and kicked the door shut.

He didn’t signal for backup. Tim’s skin prickled at the sight of the shut door and Jason stalking toward him.

“This is the part where you say thank you,” Jason prompted lazily, getting within an arm’s reach of Tim. Tim couldn’t stop his body from recoiling, eyes flicking down to the dead body on the floor. “Oh come on. Now’s not the time to worry about morals. I gave them a quick death. You should be thanking me for that too.”

“I’ll thank you when you get me out of this,” Tim said, lifting his arm to show the cuff. He pressed his palm against the cut on his chest, the one responsible for most of his blood loss. Ra’s had blamed Tim for that one, saying it was his fault for squirming too much. Tim knew better, though. He knew every drag of Ra’s’ blade was always exact and purposeful.

Jason tilted his head to the side and leaned in close. He smiled with tiger teeth and snake eyes. “See, I would but-” his eyes dragged up and down Tim’s battered form- “why should I let you go when you look so pretty like this?”

Tim was suddenly all too aware of how naked he was, skin prickling. He grabbed a handful of sheets and yanked them over his lap, trying to cover himself. Jason made no move to stop him, just watching the motion of Tim’s arm as it grasped for a crude attempt at modesty.

“You said Bruce is here,” Tim chose his words carefully, trying not to show fear. He was better than being afraid of Jason of all people. He blamed the worst of his feelings on the vulnerable state he was already in. His fingers clenched the sheets to hide the way they shook.

“He’s around somewhere,” Jason waved his gun in the air dismissively. “But he’s not here, is he?” Another wave of the gun to gesture to the room. Jason’s eyes flicked down to the gushing chest wound. “You really need to cauterize that.”

“Do I look like I have something to cauterize it with?” Tim shot back, sluggishly. He didn’t let Jason distract him from the real point. “If you try anything, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Jason rolled his eyes. He searched around his utility belt, pulling out a lighter and a knife. “Tattle to Bruce? Fight me?” He snorted. “I don’t know which is more amusingly unrealistic.” He flicked the lighter on and held it under the knife.

Tim watched the blade heat up, eyes widening. “You’re not going to-”

“You’ve got a better idea?” Jason arched an eyebrow. “It’ll really piss B off if you fucking die.”

“Won’t be the first time,” Tim muttered under his breath. He cringed as soon as the words came out. That was too much information to be giving to Jason.

Another cruel snort came from Jason. “You got your own taste of the Pit, didn’t you?”

“No,” Tim tried to lie, shifting a bit.

“You did,” Jason hummed. He leaned in even closer, until his face took up Tim’s entire field of vision. “Trust me, I recognize the look in your eyes. Hold still.”

That was the only warning Tim got before a red hot blade was pressed against his skin. Tim opened his mouth to scream against the burning pain, but gloved fingers were shoved into his mouth to muffle the noise.

Tim tried to bite down on Jason’s fingers hard enough to break them, but the gloves were too thick and his body was too weak. All he could do was glare and grasp at the sheets.

The look in Jason’s gaze was terrifying. His lips held a slight smile and he looked hungry, eating up all of Tim’s tormented noises. Tim’s pain was a feast for Jason’s sadism. Tim was struggling just to stay alive and Jason looked like he was having the time of his life, licking his lips and swallowing hard.

Tim was starting to think maybe he preferred Ra’s over this.

Finally, Jason pulled the knife off of Tim’s searing skin and Tim sagged in relief. He almost fell over before Jason caught him around the waist, pressing Tim against his suit. Blood smeared over Jason’s jacket.

His fingers were still in Tim’s mouth.

Tim tried to speak around them but Jason just forced his fingers in deeper, making Tim gag.

“I could probably sneak out with you, you know,” Jason whispered into Tim’s ear. “Tell Bruce I got bored and left. They’d just think it was a bust.”

TIm had never understood Jason’s complex over him. He knew it was something he wanted to avoid at all costs. With Ra’s, Tim could at least find the root of the obsession.

With Jason, not so much.

He was always breathing down Tim’s neck and trying to get a rise out of Tim. Wanting Tim to work with him, pay attention to him, anything he could get. It reminded Tim of trying to tame a needy dog.

This was a step too far, though.

This made it all make sense in ways Tim regretted knowing as soon as it hit him. He twisted his head around until he managed to spit out Jason’s fingers, coughing.

“You don’t have Ra’s’ manpower,” Tim bit out the words. He tugged hard and uselessly against his cuff. “You couldn’t hold me for long.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” Jason hummed. “Tell me, Drake, you pissed off enough to actually try to kill me, yet? Or do you need another dunk?”

“Give me that knife and find out,” Tim curled his hand into a fist. He was bluffing. Just the thought of killing someone nauseated Tim, his eyes briefly flickering over to the dead body on the floor.

No amount of the Lazarus Pit could turn Tim into that. A cold-blooded killer who didn’t even look before he shot. Tim was better than that.

He was better than Jason.

He just had to distract Jason long enough to find where he kept his lock-picking tool, stab him in the eye with it, and then break free and find anyone else.

Maybe Tim was against murder, but there was just enough cold rage in him to crave bloody violence. He squirreled away his logical thoughts on the matter, for now. The situation warranted just a bit of brutality.

Someone had to teach Jason that he didn’t always get to have what he wanted.

Jason dared to groan softly. “Tempting. So fucking tempting. How would you kill me, Drake? Would you gut me? Slit my throat?” He sounded far too into the idea of it. The knife in his hand started trailing up Tim’s bare back. Not deep enough to cut, but still leaving goosebumps of fear in its threatening wake. “We borrow enough Lazarus water and we can take turns killing each other.”

“Borrow,” Tim echoed the word with an incredulous laugh. “Like Ra’s would let you.”

Jason’s laughter was sickening. “Didn’t plan on asking permission.” He paused, just as the knife dragged up to the base of Tim’s skull. “I’m serious, you know.” His voice got quieter. “I’d do it if you wanted to.”

“Kill each other?” TIm’s heart was pounding. He was doing the exact opposite of getting himself out of this situation. He was sinking deeper and deeper into Jason’s clawed grip and didn’t know where the escape route was anymore. He couldn’t pull away from the hold, with the knife pressed where it was. He definitely couldn’t fight Jason like this.

Tim was trapped in what he was pretty sure was a prison of his own making.

“Kill, kiss, fuck.” Jason shrugged. “I’ll take any of the above.”

Tim swallowed down blood and bile. “You couldn’t handle me.” He couldn’t show fear. More than couldn’t, he refused to. Giving Jason his fear would just spur Jason on more. Or maybe piss him off to the point of just killing Tim and leaving him there.

Now, with the teetering edge of Tim’s sanity under Jason’s scrutiny, Tim was positive he’d shatter if he got dipped in those green waters again. And he refused to let Jason keep the pieces left of Tim to himself.

He was not going out like this.

“Wanna bet?” Jason asked. “Winner takes all.”

He sounded insane. He probably was.

And he wasn’t letting Tim dance around a lack of an answer any longer. The tip the knife started to press harder until blood was trickling down his spine.

Placating Jason seemed to be the obvious and smartest survival method. If Tim faked it long enough, he’d have to have an opening sooner or later.

“If you can keep me alive long enough to get the hell out of here, then we’ll talk,” Tim chose his words as carefully as he could. He kept his tone light, in a way that was practically teasing. He hoped it was enough.

Jason practically preened, his whole body shivering against Tim’s. He lifted the knife from Tim’s neck to reach for his belt. Tim was able to suppress his sigh of relief, hearing the lock on his cuff click.

“Can you stand?” Jason asked, pulling away to stand up, but still keeping a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Possessively, almost.

Tim gave him a withering look. “Do I look like I can stand?”

“Good point.” Jason shrugged. He lifted Tim almost too easily, an arm around Tim’s waist to haul him off the bed, forcing the sheet to fall away. “God.” Jason paused for just a moment, looking over Tim’s naked form. It made Tim felt studied under a microscope in a way that made him want to crawl out of his skin.

He’d just signed a deal with the devil, and he was already regretting it.

Jason managed to snap out of it and carried Tim toward the door. Tim just held onto Jason’s neck for support and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself he hadn’t just made the stupidest decision of his life. He could still distantly hear other Bats fighting off ninjas. Salvation so close to Tim, yet still out of reach. Jason easily stepped over all of the dead bodies as they slunk through the hallways, away from the noise and into the darkness.

Tim couldn't escape the awful chill crawling down his spine; pressed against someone who was possibly more psychotic than the madman he was being promised escape from, grandeur illusions traded for the ugly truth of Jason's desire. His flicker of hope felt like it was being snuffed out by every heavy step of Jason’s boots. The best he could pray for was for Jason to give him a cell as nice as the one they were leaving behind. 

Out of one den of vipers and into another.