#i love how he slowly realizes what kind of person jeremiah is

[bilbosspoons]

hot take i guess?? i enjoyed the nick/jeremiah dynamic way more than the troy/madison one

[coupleoffanfics]

Ranting about a possible fanfic I'll write.

Anyone reading this hear me out. There are some Yandere Batfam x neglected reader that I love. Basically, the reader is a part of the family and is ignored by everyone until some event happens leading the family slowly becoming yandere. I just love the angst.

Okay, so what if she has a boyfriend before the whole family starts going off the rails? Right, okay, so what if her boyfriend was one of the Valeska twins? Both would just fuck everything up for the family and I'd love it.

Regarding which Valeska y/n would end up with I'd see y/n dating per-spray Jeremiah. Could see him only dating y/n because she is a Wayne. I see him being the more narcissistic one out of the two even though they both are. Slowly developing an obsession with y/n as I could see her being attentive toward anyone who shows her positive attention. And that could feed into Jeremiah's narcissism.

So when y/n opens up or Jeremiah realizes that she doesn't have a strong relationship with Bruce, he'd be more inclined to dump her. He plans to get a wealthy job at Wayne Enterprises and live a luxurious life, unlike his upbringing. So dating the daughter's CEO would give him an advantage, that's at least what he thought.

He'd gently put her down so that he could focus more on other things, but…This underlying obsession made it impossible. Now he's like fuck, I actually like her what do I do now? (y/n is definitely one to say I love you first.)

I couldn't see Jerome and y/n dating just because of her upbringing. She has strong morals having been trained by Batman and formally being Batgirl for a few years. She would have had to meet Jerome before he murders his mother since that leads him down this psychotic path.

Regardless of which Valeska she dated, I'd say that she has some loyalty toward him. Seeing them as more of a victim of circumstances rather than a villain. Though that would be thrown out once Jerome or post-spray Jeremiah start harming or worse killing civilians.

I just love the idea of the when the family is or turning yandere are just like y/n who the fuck is this and why are they trying to kidnap you? Meanwhile, the Valeskas are just screaming and throwing shit that they have to deal with more bullshit to get to y/n.

y/n's Personality

Loyalty would be one of her trades as she'd do almost anything for her loved ones that actually care for her. It doesn't mean she's blindly loyal to anyone who shows her kindness.

Empathy and consideration are strong ones as y/n has a big heart. She'd be understanding why the family is busy and how much work they'd do as they are not being close. But that doesn't mean she's not hurt or frustrated when Bruce blatantly shows favoritism. Yet she doesn't want to be an inconvenience or get in the way of their vigilantism.

Inferiority complex. Being the only family member to quit being a vigilante has taken a bit out of y/n. She is justified in her reason, but that doesn't stop her from feeling less valued. She wants to be seen as valuable, so she doesn't often go to anyone for help. Fearing that it would make her look less valuable to whoever.

Depressed. y/n may smile and laugh, but that doesn't mean she's not dealing with depression. Having trouble getting out of bed and whatnot was one of the factors that made her quit being a vigilante.

People pleaser. Trying to show her value as a person by doing what most say. Or just trying to avoid as much conflict as possible.

Notable Things About y/n

Art is what she uses to express herself. Drawing or writing (totally not self-indulgent) are the primary examples. Won't or couldn't bond with Damian over this because he doesn't like her already and she's too afraid of opening herself up to him.

Baking things with Alfred if he has the time. It's therapeutic and helps combat anxiety. She also loves giving sweets to others seeing them enjoy it and showing that she’s not completely worthless.

Probably in a big sister program to provide support to those younger than her and prevent others from feeling lonely like her. As she isn’t able to help the family as much as she used to. Might even be a soup kitchen volunteer.

Hopes to have a job that’s in the creative field and move far out of Gotham. Will try to get into a college out of Gotham once she’s done with high school.

Either has a few or just one friend. Often spending the night at their place, so that she’s not alone.

Wants a normal, quiet life. Get married have kids or adopt if her partner wants to.

y/n as Batgirl

Let's say she was adopted by Bruce when she was 8. Taking about 2 to 3 years to train before even being allowed to patrol.

Become Batgirl before Jason gets killed and was probably somewhat close to Jason. His death showed the dark reality of vigilantism but wasn't what made her quit. Though it made her think of what the future would look like.

Meeting Tim, she wasn't malicious or anything. Quite the opposite and she was probably closer to Tim than Jason given that they were the same age. Didn't like the idea of having him become the next Robin since Jason's death was still recent, but didn't want to start an argument with Bruce.

It was kinda painful to see Tim dressed up as Robin as he almost looked like Jason. y/n coping that this is just keeping Jason's memory alive and she was the weird one for feeling uncomfortable.

Seeing how quickly Tim was able to gain the role of Robin while it took her a few years made her feel inadequate. Maybe she wasn't made for this but quickly got rid of that thought. Everyone learns at their own pace and Tim happened to be faster.

Jason coming back had y/n squealing out of pure happiness until he tried to kill everyone including her. Could see y/n being the one who nearly gets killed by Jason simply because she's never been a fighter. Too passive for her good. Also, she couldn't bring herself to punch him even before hearing all that he's been through.

There probably wasn't a traumatic event that led her to end her time as Batgirl. Just slowly realizing that this wasn’t her passion, feeling like an inconvenience when her depression knocks her down, and her insecurities. After quitting she avoided everyone as she couldn’t stand them trying to persuade her to not quit or expressing their disappointment in her.

By the time Damian comes around, she is not at all involved with Batman or the others. He mocks her, believing that she couldn’t handle the heat of being a hero which is partly true. If she has any inhuman power then I feel that Damian’s mocking would be more intense. Thinking that she has an advantage that one of them has yet still wasn’t enough and is wasting her power by being a civilian.

Going back to the Valeska twins. I think y/n would be more inclined to be loyal to Jeremiah if dating him rather than Jerome. Mainly because it takes him longer to harm innocent people while Jerome is just stabbing people for shits and giggles. She'd probably hope that there is a cure for the laughing toxin. Any horrible thing post-spray Jeremiah could be blamed on the toxin despite him stating otherwise. Her loyalty and hope would slowly be crushed by how the heinous acts are getting.

(I'd like to think that Jerome made the spray to change his physical appearance to look more like the Joker. Could see the Joker taking in Jerome to become the next "Joker". Was going to use it on himself until y/n expressed her distaste for the Joker. He wasn't going to stop working with or for Joker just because of that, but he wasn't going to use the spray. Which sucks because he worked so hard on it. Then just decided to use it on his brother for 3 reasons. 1) He didn't want it to go to waste. 2) He thinks it'd be funny. 3) Fuck Jeremiah.)

Having a break up with either Valeska is going to have y/n balling her eyes in her room. So the yandere family is just going to break down the door and act like they cared the whole time. "What are you talking about y/n? Us ignoring you? No, that isn't right, we hang out all the time." y/n would have liked the fact that her family cares enough to check on her, but it overwhelmed and freaked out by how sudden this is.

The family would encourage force y/n to start training with them regularly since there are two psychopaths after her. Not only will they be able to keep an eye on her, but also be able to catch up on all that time they missed.

I'm ending it here for now because I have other things to do. But I swear I'm going to get this written. No one's gonna read it, but I'm going to write cuz why not. Possible cover art for the story.

[urwelcomeforthis]

Alex’s tattoo shows up the day after she punches Marcus Hinkle.

He had been picking on Kara in the hallway, dangling her math book above her head, taking advantage of his summer growth spurt.

Kara still doesn’t know what possessed Alex – Marcus Hinkle had been a thorn in her side since she had landed on Earth and started school a year ago, but whatever the reason, today was the day Alex couldn’t take anymore.

Eliza had been furious. Jeremiah had been (not so) silently proud.

Kara didn’t know what she had felt, really. Especially not when she asked Alex why, and the older girl had just shrugged and said “You’re my sister. It’s what we do.”

Up until this point being sisters meant fights in the hallway over the bathroom and ignoring each other at the dinner table.

Apparently, things were changing.

Kara is just waking up when she hears Alex’s hushed “What the hell?”

“What is it?” She asks, groggily sitting up and wiping at the sleep in her eyes.

Her sister is holding her forearm up, frantically scrubbing at a spot right in the middle, her eyes frantic.

“I don’t…. I don’t know! It’s like a tattoo but I didn’t get a tattoo! Fuck, Mom is going to kill me.” Alex sounds panicked as she continues scrubbing at the spot, and Kara feels her heartbeat speed up.

“You had a tattoo just appear on your skin?” Kara asks slowly, her mind suddenly far away on a planet that doesn’t exist anymore, in a culture she had been forced to leave behind.

Alex stops scrubbing and looks at Kara with a piercing gaze. “Yeah. It’s some funny symbol too, like the way you used to write before you learned English. Did you do this to me?”

Alex leaps off the bed and crosses the room in two quick strides, arm held out like an accusation.

Kara shrinks in on herself a little but nods. “I think so. I didn’t know it was possible here, but well, on Krypton when your soul mate reveals themselves, a tattoo linking you appears. I should have one too, somewhere, if you do.”

Alex stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wide. “Soul mates? But we’re sisters! That’s so gross!”

Jumping up from the bed, hands held up in surrender Kara hastens to explain further. “No! Not like that, I promise! Back home, people had different kinds of soul mates. Sometimes it was the romantic kind like you talk about here on Earth, but other times it could just be a compatible soul, someone who was meant to be a part of you.”

Alex still looks wary, if not relieved, as she tentatively holds out her arm. “So, what does this mean? What kind of soul mates are we?”

Stepping forward Kara delicately traces the symbols on Alex’s forearm. “It literally means “sister of the soul.” Je shesur. The symbol after it is unique, the way we would know we were linked. If this had happened on Krypton it would mean we were soul sisters. Not from the same parents but family just the same.”

Alex nods. “And here on Earth? What does it mean here?”

“The same thing. At least that’s what it means to me.” Kara refuses to meet Alex’s eyes, not sure she wants to see what waits for her there.

There’s a long minute of silence after Alex takes her arm back. The clearing of her throat brings Kara’s eyes up from their place on the ground.

“Where’s yours?” Alex asks, eyes burning with curiosity.

Kara shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not on my arms like yours is. It must be hidden. Can you look on my back?”

“Sure.” Alex nods. “Lift up your shirt.”

Kara turns and tugs her shirt up and over her head. It takes a moment, but she hears her sister gasp followed by the feel of fingertips against her left shoulder blade.

“It’s the same as mine.” Alex says reverently, and Kara closes her eyes against the emotion welling up there.

Who would have thought she would get to have this piece of home?

“So, I guess I’m stuck with you. For like, ever, huh?” Alex smiles once Kara has turned back around.

Kara grins back. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Alex shrugs. “Could be worse. But you have to tell Mom about this, because she’ll never believe me, and she is going to be pissed that I have a tattoo.”

“Sure, I can tell Mom.” Kara grins, a piece of her heart settling in place. She hasn’t felt at home on Earth, not really, but at this moment she feels like it isn’t all that bad.

--

The next person to get a tattoo is, interestingly enough, James.

It doesn’t come when they’re dating, or whatever it was that they were doing, no.

It comes after he has revealed himself to be Guardian, and he and Kara have the biggest fight of their friendship.

Kara wakes up the morning after tired, groggy, and more than a little cranky. Its as she’s stripping down to get in the shower that she notices it – the Kryptonese scrawled along the inside of her right bicep.

Throniv Shesur. Protector of the soul.

Kara heaves a deep, deep, sigh and grabs her phone.

She meets James at the DEO, both tentative around each other after the yelling match of the day before.

“So. I woke up with a tattoo. Kryptonese. Any idea what that’s about?” James looks smug, like he’s won some kind of battle with Kara and god, at that moment she wishes they were in the training room and she could just punch him.

“Yeah. I did too. It means “protector of the soul.” She crosses her arms against her chest, desperately trying to hold onto her anger from yesterday but the wide grin on James’ face is making it hard.

“I know. I asked Clark first thing since I figured you’re still pissed at me. He was a little surprised, but he translated it for me.”

“Where’s it at?” Kara asks, still pretending to be upset but truthfully it was hard given the glaring message from home telling her that James was meant to be Guardian. That they were meant to protect each other. Protect others together.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” James says with a waggle of his eyebrows and that’s what finally breaks Kara, a laugh ringing out across the room.

It wasn’t who she expected to have a tattoo, not in this way at least, but if it had to be anyone, she’s glad it’s James.

--

Mon-El doesn’t get a tattoo. Kara wishes she were more disappointed.

--

The last person to get a tattoo is someone Kara had desperately hoped both would and would not get a tattoo.

For a long time, she feared what that tattoo would be, if it were to happen. She feared having to explain it, having to explain herself.

She had checked with Clark a few times, when paranoia would get the better of her.

No, he always told her. Lex did not have a tattoo. They were enemies, yes, but it hadn’t been decided by destiny or fate. It just was.

That mollified Kara because she couldn’t stand it if she and Lena were to become Clark and Lex. She would fight against it, fight against fate to keep it from happening.

And then, well. It kind of happens anyways.

They aren’t enemies, not really. Lena just hates Kara and aims a few Kryptonite cannons at her and tries to mind control the entire planet, but really everyone is allowed a brief lapse of their sensibility, right?

And what matters is she came around, in the end.

It did take time, however, for them to build back to what they once had. It was different now, but in the way that things once broken and fixed usually are.

It was better, if anything.

They were back to shared lunches and dinners, quick breakfasts and coffee breaks. They were back to game nights as partners and movie nights as friends, and the occasional sleepovers as best friends.

Things were finally back to normal, so of course Kara had to go and absolutely, irrevocably, mess it up.

It was Alex’s fault, really.

If she hadn’t said anything, if she hadn’t asked Kara what was up between her and Lena lately, Kara probably never would have stopped to think about it.

She never would have stopped to think about the way her heart sped up when Lena entered a room, or the way her palms got sweaty when they hugged, or the way she just could not stop staring at Lena when she laughed at game nights.

But now she had thought of it and had come to the very scary conclusion that she was in love with her best friend.

Her best friend who didn’t have a tattoo.

She would, after all this time, have a tattoo, the tattoo, if they were meant to be together, right?

Kara mulls it over for weeks. It haunts her. She asks Lena about tattoos, and if she has any.

She learns that yes, in fact Lena does have tattoos and boy howdy one of them is on her lower back and it is seared into the back of her eyes now that she has seen it.

But she doesn’t have any kryptonian tattoos, which is really what Kara was aiming for.

Much like it was Alex’s fault that Kara even realized she was in love, it’s also Alex who reminds Kara of one important detail.

“Well I didn’t get my tattoo until after I punched what’s his face. Maybe you have to tell Lena how you feel and then she’ll get the tattoo.”

Kara feels dumb struck, right there on her own couch, because of course, Alex is right.

The tattoos always come after the person has already revealed themselves.

Then of course comes the true fear: what if she tells Lena and she still doesn’t get a tattoo?

That’s the question she’s mulling over the next night as she and Lena sit on her couch watching some documentary that had been put on Netflix.

Lena looks beautiful, face bare of makeup, hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, glasses slipping down her nose.

She’s eating a piece of pizza, a rare treat after a long week of work, and Kara decides that it doesn’t matter if Lena doesn’t get a tattoo.

She’s hopelessly, desperately in love with the woman and she can’t let a tattoo that may or may not come dictate her life.

“I’m in love with you, you know.” Kara blurts out, like this isn’t a life changing moment, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to say. (It is.)

Lena chokes a little on the bite she was swallowing, her hand coming up to her chest as she sets down the slice.

“Excuse me?”

Kara laughs. She’s never felt more free than in this moment. “I’m in love with you. I just thought you should know.”

Lena looks at her, shock written all over her face. “Oh. I guess that’s good.”

“Just good?” Kara nudges Lena’s thigh with her knee.

Lena shakes her head. “I mean it’s more than good, considering I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah?” Kara could float up to the moon, she thinks.

Lena smiles, nose crinkled. “Yeah.”

It’s the next morning that Lena calls and asks if Kara can stop by. She has this tattoo she didn’t have yesterday, right on her ribcage, and it looks like it’s Kryptonian.

Kara frantically searches her own body, finding the script on her hip, on the left side.

Zhao Shesur. Love of the soul.

It took them five years to get to this point, but Kara knows, this moment was more than worth the wait.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Trouble ~ J.V.

A/n: I see my Jerome peeps are HERE and I’m LOVING IT! Prompt list here so y’all don’t have to scroll ;) Feel free to request as many as you want for commission or when requests are open again. I LOVE using prompts!!

Request: “...6, 8 with Jerome Valeska” by anon

6: “You are actually Satan, oh my god.”

8: “Wow, I am so in love with you… just wow.”

MASTERLIST

You know how you see someone, and it’s so obvious where they’ll end up that it’s like a scene in your head? It’s never good when this happens, so usually it’s a sad story and you kind of just frown and shake your head and pity the person, but you know that saying anything won’t do you any good so you just sit back and keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable end.

That’s how everyone saw Jerome Valeska.

People had never cared about Jerome, though. If they ever had, it was wiped away pretty quickly. Brutally murdering people with no care for who was on what side, who had helped or hurt, or without even a little remorse or pity or hesitation or regret... it was one of those things that most people found to be a bit of a turn off. Those who didn’t were seen to be just as unhinged as Jerome was, so they were dismissed as well.

The thing was, people HAD cared about Y/n. She was one of the most intellectually promising in her entire high school, maybe in all of Gotham. She was the kind of teenager that seemed so very adult. She was respectful and poised and very well controlled. She was pleasant to be around, and even much older people didn’t mind talking to her if they happened to be in the same place. She’d even made some pleasant relationships.

Like the friendship she had with Bruce Wayne.

Through him, she had come to learn about and meet and even get along with everyone Bruce knew. She could get along with anybody she wanted to, without threats or intimidation or groveling. She simply existed, and she had a sort of comforting, approachable presence about her. She wasn’t the least bit threatening, but she was... nice, I guess. Even dangerous people liked her, because she was the only person who didn’t seem to care about power or advantageous interactions or anything like that.

She was just nice to talk to.

This showed most prominently when she talked to people like Edward Nigma, or Oswald Cobblepott, or Silena Kyle. She’d even found herself in situations to talk to Barbara Gordan. Victor Zsasz.

People usually chalked it up to her being quite unlucky.

Because she was so unsuspecting and unproblematic and calm, she turned out to be a really good hostage. She didn’t talk back or lash out, she just sat and behaved and looked at you with a very calm, calculated expression.

Zsasz had run into her when he’d worked for Penguin and had been guarding her so that Oswald could make a deal without worrying about his bargaining chip being compromised. After a while, Y/n had asked how Zsasz’s day was going. They’d had a short, pleasant conversation, leaving the assassin intrigued by the girl when she’d been let go.

Barbara had a similar experience, except it had been when she was in Arkham of all places. Everyone had a weird thing, and very few if any people knew Y/n’s, but even she had one too. Her weird thing was visiting Arkham Asylum every once in a while visiting random people inside it, and then talking to them with the most easy normality. Like they’d been life long friends, or the person she was talking to was completely sane. She never judged or snapped, she just had a neutral expression with a sort of interest in her eyes. She was polite enough that Barbara had entertained the visit, and found herself not totally regretting it afterward.

Oswald had met her when he was mayor. She had dropped by as an errand for Jim Gordon, and had started a casual conversation when Oswald had expected her to leave when thing were handled. At first he’d been suspicious, and he still was if he was honest, but she hadn’t asked any prying questions or tried to get at him from any angle. If he drew a line, she respected it immediately and moved onto something else without missing a beat. When he got uncomfortable, she apologized and wished him a good day before excusing herself. After she’d show up several more times, sometimes sent by Jim, sometimes just to say hello, Oswald eventually relaxed. He didn’t trust her, and she didn’t expect him to, but when she stopped by to say hello he’d have someone bring them tea and they’d have a little chat. He was a little surprised when she didn’t visit him in Arkham, but when they ran into each other a little later, she nodded to him with a little smile and he got the impression she wasn’t angry with him.

As time passed, more and more people who were considered to be Gotham’s worst were coming up with more and more stories of Y/n. The girl who didn’t scream when she walked into a store and saw a dead body, but who’s neutrality wasn’t unsettling as much as it was kind of calming. She had all the makings of a twisted, demented villain, and yet she was the most normal person ever. It was confusing and intriguing, but never distinctly a bad thing. She was well known, and no one had anything bad to say about her. 

It was only a matter of time before Jerome found her.

Not long after he did, he was as taken with her as everyone else. She wasn’t annoying, or unnerved by him. She was in fact endlessly interesting. He thought eventually he would get bored of her complete lack of response to even the most terrible things he told her in an effort to get her going, but found instead that the sort of sparks of interest in her gaze and the small smile that sometimes almost touched her lips was enough to keep him engaged.

She was the exact opposite of him, but in a way that didn’t drive him to want her to be gone. He didn’t WANT to kill her. It was weird, and he was living for it.

Slowly, Y/n stopped showing up in public. She stopped visiting Arkham, and the police department. She stopped running into dangerous people who never seemed to mind seeing her around, even if they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone. She graduated high school but never talked about college. She just... slowly started to disappear.

It wasn’t as suspicious as it was disappointing. No one could tell where she was going or why all the accidental bump ins were being so carefully removed, but it was leaving the idea in everyone’s head that they might not have been accidents to begin with. Not most of them at least. That was the only thing that it could be, after years and years of her being so very unlucky, only for her to quite suddenly not run into a single soul ever. Even when people sought her out, they couldn’t find her unless she wanted to be found.

She appeared rather suddenly at Jerome’s side one day out of the blue.

No one noticed her behind the line of people in chairs. They were distracted by Jerome talking about his terribly sad past, and the people with explosive collars locked around their necks. Most importantly noted: Bruce Wayne and Jerome’s twin brother, Jeremiah.

It wasn’t until Jerome drew attention to her that anyone even registered her at all. She was so still and quiet that behind all the chaos, she might as well have been invisible.

Jerome was only too enthused to rub it in everyone’s faces.

“You know you don’t like me, and that’s fair. I’m not like any of you, am I? I don’t smile right, and I act weird. Then there’s the whole killing people thing.” He giggled, but the crowd in front of him only looked disgusted. “But is that why you really hate me, Gotham? Because I’m a big ol mean bad guy? Do you hate me because I’m a little unhinged? Because I’m a little loud and hysterical and I scare you? Or do I scare you because I have no problem being very honest and very open with all of the things you people LOVE to push under the rug and hide away and pretend no one can see.” He shook his head. “Because I’ve come to realize there is someone who’s exactly like me, but so much better at playing all of you. So much better at playing innocent and harmless and friendly, and with no real intentions other than to prove how easy you all are. How transparent.” His eyes drifted toward Y/n, and he motioned her forward. Without hesitating, she did take a few steps forward, into the light and right behind Bruce Wayne.

Gasps echoed in the crowd. To everyone’s stunned silence, Y/n stood there with the same calm and reservation she always did. She seemed perfectly unbothered by the dead body inches from her, or the people she had always seemed so close to being in danger. She didn’t look around, trying to gauge a way out, and nothing held her in forced obedience. She just looked at Jerome, that same nice, almost-smile and curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“What-” Bruce looked around, mouth dropping open when he saw who was behind him. “Y/n?”

“Ah yes,” Jerome purred. “Gotham’s little angel. Friend to all. Unassuming and nice and calm and wonderful. Aren’t you just a pillar of perfection, Y/n?” He giggled again, and Y/n tilted her head, her smile growing a little,

For the first time ever, Y/n was unnerving. Seeing her of all people look dangerous was so upsetting that the crowd started to step down from their anger towards Jerome and were edging toward true fear. If she could end up being bad, who else could? If even the bets of them could be corrupted, and even the most deranged mind could act completely normal, how could anyone ever tell when people were dangerous anymore?

It could be anyone. Anyone they trusted. Anyone they knew. Anyone they’d talked to long enough to decide they were safe. Because Bruce Wayne had known Y/n best of anyone in Gotham, and even he looked as stunned as everyone felt. He had spent copious amounts of time with her, including for hours straight during school hours, and even he had not on any level or in any way seen anything like this coming.

“Y/n?” Bruce whispered.

Y/n met his gaze. “Yes?”

He wasn’t sure what to ask her. “What’s going on?” is what he settled on.

She shrugged, as if they were catching up after school. During tea time maybe, after having not seen each other recently. “Nothing much. I’m observing and learning. People are so intriguing Bruce, have you ever noticed? I’ve learned so much. All I ever had to do was be polite, and everyone would let me sit there as long as I wanted and observe them. You learn so much by watching people, but even more from talking to them. And they always let me. All I had to do was let them talk. I never lied. I never pushed. I was respectful and curious, and they responded so well. I’ve come to learn that even the most suspicious people feel the loneliness of humanity. They crave to be wanted. To looked at. All I had to do was show interest, and they thrived under that attention. You really have to do so little for people to like you. It’s so interesting.”

Bruce’s eyes had been widening as she spoke. She said it all like she was observing humanity in a way that she wasn’t apart of it. “You’re like us, aren’t you?”

“Oh of course,” she agreed. “That’s the thing. I wanted to understand myself, so I looked at those like me. And those unlike me. To see what was and wasn’t me. To see what was similar and what was so very completely different.” She chuckled softly and Bruce felt sick to his stomach. “I never expected to find someone so very similar to me to be someone seen the eyes of everyone else as exactly opposite. Jerome and I? Very much the same, except I’d rather learn than act. I never really cared about people’s opinions or if they didn’t like me or if they were mean. I was too unassuming for bullying or abuse. I didn’t care if people looked over me like Jerome does, and that’s really the only difference. I just wanted to learn, and people were always willing to let me.” She shrugged. “But people are so simple. So easy to understand. MUCH more straight forward than any of them would like to admit. I think I’m going to be staying with Jerome from now on. He’s interesting. He understands.”

Jeremiah knew who she was only by association, and even he was surprised, despite having known Jerome very close up for so long. He supposed it wasn’t fault, but watching Bruce, he wondered if he’d even been able to tell her true nature. Even now she looked completely normal and safe. Her eyes were full of life, and she was fairly attractive. The way she stood was relaxed and the way she talked was completely normal. What was upsetting about her was not that she was obviously messed up. It was that she was so painfully normal in even a situation that should have been quite upsetting.

“You’re a sociopath,” Jeremiah offered in a sort of leveled voice. Her eyes turned to him and he realized that her calmness was contagious. She had the look of someone you could just... fall into. So easy to trust. Even now he found himself a little lured by her. She was honest about who she was. She didn’t hide anything. She was just quiet, and people forgot to ask. That wasn’t her fault. Maybe she could still be saved from his deranged brother.

“Yes,” Y/n agreed, and her complete acceptance of that didn’t sit well with Jeremiah. “Would you like me to show you? I have come to learn that everyone wants some sort of proof of it. They have a hard time believing me.”

“No that’s okay,” Jeremiah rushed to reassure just as Jerome squealed, “Yes please!”

Between the two opposite reactions from the two very opposite twins, Bruce got the idea of what her kind of proof might mean. “Don’t worry Y/n, we believe you.”

She nodded, and the two boys thought that’d be the end of it. But then she pulled an actual gun out of seemingly nowhere, pointed it at the crowd, and shot without even hesitating. There went up a scream as people scattered, revealing the body of a woman bleeding out on the ground. The bullet had hit someone around her neck and no one could do anything other than give her and themselves plenty of room away from her.

Jerome squealed with excitement.

Bruce looked at Y/n with horror. “I said we believed you! You didn’t have to kill her!”

“But I did,” Y/n decided. “Because they didn’t believe me.” Her lips turned up into a stronger smile. There was no regret or hesitation in her eyes, and Bruce felt dread slowly settle throughout his body. She WAS exactly like Jerome and the only reason this was her first kill is because she’d decided to wait until now to kill someone. They’d all been at her mercy this entire time, like a mouse held down by a mouse trap. Except they’d been perfectly fine just sitting in her trap and letting her watch with mild interest as they died.

She was just like Jerome.

One of the other people in line spat, “You’re actually Satan, oh my god.” His eyes were wide and Bruce got the idea that if he hadn’t been held by the explosive collar, he might have bolted. “You let all of us trust you and welcome you and be around you. You gained our trust, and you don’t even care about us?”

Very calmly, Y/n simply shook her head. “We’re all just meat. Do you care about the animals scientists test on to give you your makeup products and medicine? Do you care about the pig killed for its meat, or the dogs that rip each other apart in the streets for entertainment and money? We’re just animals. You guys have just gotten the idea stuck in your head for some reason that we’re special animals. You won’t admit those animals will eat you just as quickly as you will them. Pigs have high intelligence. You think you’re gods because you have the highest intelligence and then ignore how you so easily ignore what you know and do what you want instead. You give into nature just like any predator. I have simply stopped being either. I’m not villain. I’m not a hero. And you think the people who watch the villain are a different category, but they’re not. They do nothing, and bad thing happen, and that’s it. A woman died, and people didn’t do anything to stop it. There’s a whole crowd of people not held here by anything other than a secret, sick fascination with the terrible things happening here. You are just as bad as Jerome. Just as bad as me. You just refuse to admit it. I don’t. That’s all.”

Grinning, Jerome sat forward in his chair. “Wow I am so in love with you.” He giggled and everyone in the area cringed. The idea of Jerome Valeska being involved like that with Y/n... And the way she seemed to not mind it either. On top of everything else that had happened here, it was so viscerally upsetting. Jerome stood, moving behind the people in chairs to gently grab Y/n’s face, pulling her lips against his. When he pulled away, everyone’s face had gone scaringly pale. “Just, wow,” the red head whispered. 

Y/n seemed to consider that. “You know, I think I have some sort of care for you. Like... like how someone explained a pet to me. Is that how affection feels?” She still looked only curious. It made sense that in a world who didn’t care to learn about people like her, and after a lifetime of holding back her questions and lack of understanding, even after all this time she still would be confused about the different way she experienced relationships with other people.

Jerome shrugged. “I think not, but I can be your pet if you want.”

Y/n smiled. “I think I do want that.”

A victorious smile adorned Jerome’s face. “That’s all I needed!” He turned to face his brother and Bruce Wayne again. “See, I was so stuck on you two. I died wanting to kill Brucie, and I’ve lived my entire life wanting to kill my dear brother, so I lived for nothing else. I thought of nothing else. I existed to end you two. But now, I have a different purpose. There is nothing like looking at someone you find so very interesting and them returning that back to you.” He giggled. “Mom always said I’d never find love. Aren’t you proud of me for proving her wrong?”

“This isn’t love,” Bruce snapped. “It’s demented. You can’t feel love. Neither of you can.”

“Maybe not,” Y/n agreed. “But it will be fun testing that.” She turned and walked off the stage, heading back and disappearing.

Jerome sighed. “And that’s my cue.” There was a gun shot and a sharp pain in his hand as the detonator fell out of his hands. He could no longer explode the necklaces. He made an ‘oopsie’ sort of expression before ducking away as another gunshot run out. “See you around, you two!” His laughter echoed as he disappeared after Y/n, fading away too quickly.

By the time Jim Gordon chased after Jerome, it was far passed too late. Whatever Y/n had done to ensure their escape, it had left no traces. They were gone.

Behind them, they left death and the lingering feeling in the air like this was only the beginning to a very, very terrible love story.

[b-rainlet]

I promised to answer this in a seperate post so here it goes!

(Sorry this took forever but...I think the length explains why ajsnsns)

For @honestmrdual who asked for Alice +/vs/or Jervis!

Slight warning??? For the discussion of kidnapping since I mention Alice and Jervis within my Rotten AU

Also Murder. And Suicide.

Also Incest. Duh.

Jervis vs. Alice

That's...a hard one but also super simple? Like, I don't think either of them would want to fight the other, you know?

Of course Jervis doesn't wanna hurt his love but Alice also would rather avoid a confrontation with her brother.

But since as long as one of them is alive, they're gonna play an eternal game of cat and mouse, it would've come down to a fight eventually.

And even though in canon Alice dies, I think she would win.

Because canon seems more like an accident than a strategic suicide (even though Gordon words it like it's one).

But if it came down to a one on one fight?

I mean, Alice is shown to be willing to shoot Jervis whereas Jervis never truly threatens her.

Like yeah, she's tied up but he doesn't threaten her with a gun (like he does at the Lee/Valerie/Jim tea party for example) and when they meet on the roof he's mostly super happy to see her, he doesn't even think about defending himself??

He just stands there, arms up and obviously wanting to touch/hug Alice.

(Which…I think about often ansnsnsn)

So if they didn't need Jervis around for longer, Alice would've definitely killed him.

Shot him. Stabbed him. Lit him on fire. Whatever she could think of at that moment.

And Jervis probably would be super surprised because?? Alice??? His dear sister?? Why would you hurt him like this if he only wants to keep you safe???

Also I have made a post before about how he never once tries to hypnotize her - possibly because she's immune but that's never outright stated so maybe he also just...wouldn't do that to her. And I lose my mind every time I think about that for more than two seconds).

Also also, if I am already rambling - when am I not - the way it would've given Alice way more agency if she would've chosen to die the way Jim seems to imply she did.

Since he goes 'She would've rather been dead than spend any more time with you' or something like that and you could argue that yeah, she does pull away from Jervis but I think that was more 'I need to get away' and less 'I'm actively choosing to get impaled now'.

Just imagine!!

Jervis once again pressing Alice to his chest, watching Jim and Harvey fight tweedle dee and tweedle dum, when suddenly Alice pushes away, frees herself and stumbles into the room.

And everyone freezes for a moment because she's yelling at them to stop and Jim's telling her to go hide somewhere while Jervis is trying to reach for her without getting shot but she's having none of it.

She's sick of running, sick of hiding, she doesn't wanna live the rest of her life like this, always looking over her shoulder, always ready to vanish again, never truly able to build herself a life, to make any friends, to do more than survive.

Mostly, she wants to be able to wash all the blood from her hands, wants to stop being responsible for people getting hurt, the ones close to her and the ones unfortunate enough to be in her brother's way.

It's her fault Jervis is in Gotham, it's her fault Jim nearly died, it's her fault Jervis manipulated and maimed and murdered his way to her.

Not to mention she's a killer too! It's in her blood just as much as it is in Jervis' and she's tired of it, of all of it.

And it seems for a second she's gonna go to Jervis willingly and stay with him (which is an option she knows, but it wouldn't stop the running and the hiding, wouldn't stop the detectives from coming after them) but no.

Instead she picks up Jervis' gun (that I think he discarded in that scene? If not, he did now ajsjsjs) and she shoots herself.

And everyone would yell at her not to do it, voices shouting and people running toward her before there's this loud bang and then there's silence.

For a very long time.

Anyway, since Alice made it very clear she chose to die, it would be harder for Jervis to delude himself into thinking Jim somehow forced her or tore her away from him (although he would probably still manage, it's Jervis after all) so maybe, they'd actually get to arrest him (because I can see him just...falling to his knees and not moving after Alice is dead. Maybe cradling her in his arms. There's no real reason to go on now after all).

But even if he gets dragged away like in canon, this minor change would've made Alice' death a lot more driven in my opinion.

(And if we still need her impaled then imagine her speech and then she lets herself fall backwards with her eyes closed and her arms outstretched and she still ends up on the pole).

(Plus, because I like multiple endings, two possibilities I would also consider very sexy but wouldn't make sense in canon since they need Jervis around:

Jervis kills himself after seeing Alice die - much like Victor Fries tried to do, because what kind of life is this if the one person worth living for is dead?

 Alice pretends she's willingly going with Jervis but she used the time she had while she was monologuing to acquire a weapon (maybe one of the needles Jervis used to draw her blood) and once she's close enough she goes for a hug and ends up stabbing him in the neck multiple times until he's falling down in front of her, slowly bleeding out, murmuring her name with his eyes open in shock.

Just....some musings you know akjssksm).

Jervis + Alice

Do I even need to answer this? xD

They're on my top ship list, they're right up there next to Jecco and Jerelina, but they also have scenes within canon that make my mind go !!! like Jerome/Lee and Jervis/Ecco do.

They're just....good. Very good.

I have...a lot of thoughts and AUs for them but I think I shared them all already because I can't stop blabbering about them lmao.

Although I gotta say I've been thinking about them within my Jeremiah/Ecco/Jerome AU (aka the Rotten Fic)

Specifically about Jervis being Alice' legal guardian since she was about 10 or even younger (since their parents died very early in her life) and Alice isn't exactly being held captive but everytime she tried to run away while she was growing up, the police simply brought her back to her brother.

Because she was a minor and he was her 'loving and worried' big brother - who also could be very persuasive and knew how to manipulate people in his favour - and soon she was known as a 'notorious runaway' and the people she tried to plead for help only smiled at her in that condescending way people do when they pity you.

'Ah there she is, the little Tetch Girl, poor thing, lost her parents so soon. Now she's a troubled kid, running away, telling lies. She can be thankful her brother is so patient and loving with her.'

And surely all the tales she likes to spin about her brother crawling into bed with her or giving her 'special baths' are simply a sign for her overactive imagination, a hurt child making up all sorts of morbid things to get some attention.

And now she's around 20 and she knows she's old enough, an adult now, they would have to at least listen now.

Or she could simply try and get away, out of town, the police can't escort her back to her house anymore, they can't stop her at the train station and tell her she's a bad girl for worrying her brother like that.

But she also knows Jervis would never let her, he would come after her and he would kill everyone she would dare to care about besides him.

He would find her no matter where she hides.

It's safer when she stays, for her and for all the people out there she will never get to meet.

I simply like the idea of Alice basically being in a kidnapping situation but no one realizes. She's the sweet girl living with her brother, she belongs at home with her brother, what is she talking about being 'at her brother's mercy'.

And it's gotten to a point where he put her out of school with the promises of 'homeschooling' to 'help her anxiety' and oh, isn't he such a sweet and caring brother?

Taking it upon himself to teach her at home, what a big sacrifice it must be for him to completely focus on his little sister like that, to make sure she doesn't get left behind!

(And of course, since Jervis can be...persuasive, no one questions whether he actually has a teaching degree or anything of the like, no, Alice is shoved into his arms with smiles and waves).

And as Alice grew up, got to a point where her words couldn't be brushed aside as child's talk anymore, she learned to play her part. Made some…mistakes, said the wrong thing to the wrong person and had to live with the consequences.

(Consequences the other person can't live with anymore).

So if some newer neighbours notice that Alice is never seen outside? Well, she's a shy girl, no need to be worried!

Her brother is such a gentleman and he does make it a point to introduce the both of them to everyone who moves into their street, did the same when they first moved to Gotham, going from door to door with little Alice on his hand to prevent any rumours from spreading to make a good first impression!

And even if someone does worry, they only need to wait until Jervis is gone for the day to ring the doorbell. Alice will open and invite them inside, will play nice and portray the little sister Jervis told her to be.

The neighbour will come back home thinking 'Oh well, the girl is a shut-in, nothing too out of the ordinary. It's a dangerous city after all' and Alice will remain in her room and fight back the panic inside her, knowing that if she didn't do her job right and they get suspicious....accidents happen all the time.

Of course this routine is gonna get disturbed once Ecco enters the scene but let's not get ahead of ourselves👀👀👀

(Anyways the inherent horror of being kidnapped and used by strangers - aka Ecco and the twins - vs. Being permanently kept in a glass cage that no one else can see except you and no one can ever hear you scream for help - aka Alice and Jervis)

Jervis or Alice

Okay that's a hard one! Like, harder than choosing between Ecco and Jervis because Jervis and Alice are kinda on the same level here.

I love Jervis. You know if you've seen even just a fraction of my blog lmao.

But Alice.....so much potential. Such a good fucking storyline.

(Jervis and Alice as two sides of the same coin? I'd even say they have a big 'star-crossed lovers, one can't truly exist without the other' vibe. I mean, you could even compare them to 'B*tjokes in a way - only the who hunts who down is flipped).

Also Alice is very pretty and I have an obvious preference for girls in pretty much any piece of media I consume.

But then you have Jervis, who isn't only involved in the Alice storyline but is also part of the J Squad.....you have the legendary Jerome/Jonathan/Jervis team up and all three of them being horribly into each other....Jonathan and Jervis basically being an old married couple....the way Jervis looks at Jerome which still has me losing my mind....also you have the Ace Chemicals Episode which single-handedly saved the 5th season......the superb Ecco/Jervis interaction......fuck, this is hard.

I love Alice and I need to talk about her more often but I think Jervis wins simply by having more interactions with other characters (and oh to have Alice around for longer.....have her face off against Jervis on the regular.....Bruce deserves a little ragtag team of protoheroes in my opinion so why not add Alice...).

...But I am getting off track :D

[josephinemoore]

I saw JOSEPHINE MOORE at a coffee shop in QUEENS today. I forgot how much SHE looks like CANDICE KING. They are a THIRTY-TWO year old WEDDING PLANNER who’s been in NYC for A MONTH now. Every time we run into each other, they are always KIND-HEARTED & BUBBLY but I’ve heard people say they can also be STUBBORN & SUSPICIOUS. FIGHT SONG BY RACHEL PLATTEN reminds me of them every time it comes on the radio.

hello my loves , it’s caroline again and i’m here with another blonde ! this is josephine aka alexander warren’s long lost sibling dun dun dunnnnnn. as always , if you would like to plot , all you gotta do is like this post and i shall appear in your ims as soon as possible.

trigger warnings :      mentions of child neglect , domestic violence , substance abuse , overdose , infertility & miscarriage.

BACKSTORY.

born josephine briar warren , daughter of robert warren and alycia reynolds , she was the youngest of two kids. the family lived in hermosa beach , california during all of josie’s childhood. 

she was basically raised by her older brother , alexander , since their parents were too busy with their drug business to care for their children. 

josie worshiped the ground alexander walked on. he was her very best friend in the whole wide world and she was fascinated by everything he did.

abuse tw :     her father’s alcohol and drug problem became worse as the years went by and soon he began abusing josie’s mother and sometimes even alexander. the little girl , however , was lucky enough not to receive any of the physical abuse. she’d learnt to run and hide whenever her father went on one of his rampages.

everything changed when she was nine years-old :     alexander wasn’t home when a particularly bad fight broke out between their parents. a concerned neighbor called social services and they ended up taking josephine away. she kicked and screamed for her brother but it was in vain , they took her away and she never got to say goodbye.

josie was put in foster care and spent most of her time holed up in her room , crying herself to sleep for a full month. more often than not , she’d wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares of her father beating her entire family up or of the day she was taken away. 

vivian and jeremiah taylor appeared in josephine’s life nearly three years after she was put in foster care. the couple immediately fell in love with the bubbly yet spunky blonde-haired girl and decided to adopt her.

it took josie some time to warm up to her new adoptive parents. they spoiled her with things and , more importantly , love and affection. but since that was something she never experienced coming from a parental figure , josie was reluctant and suspicious.

with time , she grew to accept the fact she was wanted and loved. josephine’s name was officially changed to josephine briar taylor when she was sixteen and it was a day filled with warm hugs and happy tears.

her parents encouraged her to follow her dreams. she was enrolled in the best school , as well as dance class so she could have something to unwind after a stressful day. since education wasn’t a priority during her childhood , it took josie a while to get the hang of things in school. thankfully , she managed to catch up and graduate in time.

her mother worked in a bridal boutique and sometimes josephine would stop by on her way home from school. she’d always her mom interact with brides-to-be , the way they all got teary-eyed whenever they found the dress of their dreams. the aura of the place made josephine happy and excited , so she’d ask to help her mom carry dresses and find acessories whenever possible.

she quickly realized that the wedding industry is where she wanted to be. but instead of being a bridal consultant , she wanted to plan entire weddings. so when graduation rolled around , josephine sent out college applications with her major set in mind :     event planning.

josephine was accepted into university of central florida and , while it pained her to leave her parents behind , packed her bags and flew out across the country to start the next chapter of her life.

in college she found herself. maybe it was the fact she was miles and miles away from her birth parents drama, or maybe it was simply the new environment. josie became chattier & happier , making friends wherever she went.

during her second year of college , she met the man who’d later become her husband. the two ran in the same social circles and quickly became best friends. they were there for each other during stressful times such as finals or when one of their flirtationships fizzled out. the two would only get together , however , a short few months before josephine’s graduation. 

they both knew they were it for each other and didn’t waste time moving into a small apartment after graduation. the couple ended up staying in florida since he got a job offer that he couldn’t possibly pass on. however, josie flew out to california to visit her parents whenever possible , or they flew in to visit the lovebirds.

josephine’s boyfriend got down on one knee when she was twenty-five. he proposed on christmas morning , in their living room in front of their tiny but filled with presents christmas tree. 

being a wedding planner , it took josephine nearly a year and a half to plan the wedding of her dreams. she obsessed over the tiniest of details and had quite a few breakdowns whenever a deadline approached. in the end , it all paid off. she had a picture perfect summery wedding surrounded by her parents and friends. the one thing missing was her big brother , alexander.

josephine always knew she wanted kids , even if the thought of being a mom scared her. she was terrified of being a bad parent like her biological ones had been , but at the same time she wanted to prove to herself that she’d be nothing like them.

infertility & miscarriage tw :     getting pregnant was a long , exhaustive process for the blonde. it took her an entire year to feel ready to start trying for a baby , and then month after month after month , the countless pregnancy tests she’d take would turn out negative. when she finally fell pregnant , she ended up having a miscarriage around nine weeks along.

the loss devastated josephine , who retreated into her shell and became distant. the two months following the miscarriage were hard on her marriage since she barely spoke to her husband , thinking he saw her as a failure.

slowly but surely , she went back to the person she used to be before and , much to her surprise , found out she was pregnant only six months after the loss.

josephine gave birth to a gorgeous , chubby baby girl named olivia grace moore. the baby stole her heart as soon as their eyes met and josie swore she’d do everything for her and never let her down.

having her daughter only made her miss her brother even more. she’d tried to find him throughout the years but never managed to. that is , until she got a lead. somehow she managed to locate alexander , who seemed to be living in new york for over a decade now. 

before josephine could share the news with her husband , he gave some of his own :     a big promotion in which he’d have to move to new york. it all seemed too good to be true , like something that would only happen in her dreams. josephine packed up her things and moved to new york with her husband and daughter , ready to start a new chapter of her life and , hopefully , find her older brother. 

PERSONALITY.

despite everything she’s been through during her childhood , josie is probably the bubbliest person you’ll ever meet. she’s always got a smile on her face and a positivite outlook on things.

she loves meeting new people , though underneath her bright smiles and sweet giggles , she’s internally side-eyeing you until she forms a strong opinion on whether or not she wants to be friends with you.

she still has nightmares about her childhood. though they’re not as frequent as they used to be back when she was nine , they still happen. when they do , josie is usually a bit quiet and distant in the days that follow. she knows she’s safe now but she can’t help but be overly alert of her surroundings.

more will be added when my brain isn’t mush

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

husband (major wc , will probably send something to the main later)

college / florida friends

good influence

bad influence

party friends

mom squad

josie’s full wanted connection list is here

EXTRA.

she wants another kid but she’s scared to go through what she did when she was trying to get pregnant with olivia

would love to open up her own wedding planning business

pls don’t ever call her josephine unless 1) it’s a professional conversation or 2) you want her to think you’re mad at her

(  @villagestart​  )

[boyneriver-fraser]

A Tale of Four Bookends: Love & Loyalty in The Fiery Cross, Violence & Vileness in Between Two Fires

I will never joke about tarring and feathering again.

The Angel of Migraine is rapping* at my window, begging to be granted entrance, and weakening my grasp on S5E2 Between Two Fires, despite the episode’s obvious plot movement and character development – not to mention its showing off some of Claire’s and Jamie’s beautiful new clothes. (Trish Biggar has already made a big impact on Season 5 and I can’t wait to see what else she has hanging in her New Country closet.) I do know the episode’s overall mood is certainly dimmer than last week’s.

Random Thoughts & Observations

Jamie rides a white horse. Lt. Knox rides a black one. Light and dark. Hero and villain. And Jamie is able to see both sides of the Crown-Regulator argument. A couple of times Knox seemed capable of empathizing with the other side, but he never quite got there. He is the King’s man.

Once their initial shock dissipated, their reactions to Mr. Farrish’s autopsy clearly showed which of Marsali and Brianna is surgery lieutenant material. I really like this elevation of Marsali’s role in the story. Lauren Lyle is so good, and Marsali is as funny as she is intelligent.

Do you suppose the same butcher that coached Sam in S3E2 Surrender coached Lauren?

We now know which tongue-twisting wedding guest is Ronnie Sinclair: the man who delivered the news about the Hillsborough unrest to Jamie and Lt. Knox.

I realize Jamie is walking a tightrope between two fires in his effort to appear loyal to the Crown, but his covering for Lt. Knox after Knox killed Ethan Mackinnon made my skin crawl.

Tufty Fluffytail: Only you can prevent crosswalk collisions.

Jemmy has hair ticks! We’re growing in numbers.

Despite her gut reaction, pun intended, to Mr. Farrish’s autopsy, you could see Marsali’s growing interest in Claire’s work, both in her face and in her slowly walking closer to the body while Claire delivered her sales pitch. Marsali’s being sold on, “Stitch him up? Like a seamstress?” reminded me of Father Gow’s being sold on his church’s receiving new windows in S1E7 The Wedding.

It breaks my heart to see Highlanders’ regarding Jamie as the enemy.

And the dichotomy of diction of Highlanders’ speech amuses me. Sometimes they enunciate each syllable so precisely, words sound like they’re coming from a metronome. Sometimes they string together a series of missed vowels and rolled Rs so quickly, words sound like they’re delivered by a growling dog.

Sigh… the king was being poisoned, and learned physician Dr. Miller is a quack.

I don’t know if Claire’s sitting at the table, separated from the other women, was because her task, or if it was designed to show Claire as Herself and the other women as tenants, but… I wonder if Claire’s fine-healer knowledge and advice would be better received if she were standing or sitting among the other women?

Maybe not, but I remember how she sat with the women at the outdoor table in S1E12 Lallybroch, swapping recipes, and how the Lady seemed more relatable to those women. Chatting vs. lecturing. “Dr. Rawlings’ Recommendations” was a great save, though.

I really like how the show is maintaining the books’ Claire-Roger relationship. They have been confidantes since Reverend Wakefield’s death, and I don’t perceive any ick factor like some readers do. Roger definitely admires Claire’s intelligence and appreciates her beauty, but on the romance front he is 100% Team Brianna. He was so young when he lost his own mother. Mrs. Graham helped to raise him, bless her, but she was no Claire Fraser. Claire is both trusted friend and surrogate mother. (Spoiler alert: James Fraser might be Roger’s colonel today, but he becomes the father Roger will dearly miss someday, albeit temporarily. Whew!)

Speaking of relationships, in last week’s episode Roger called Jocasta “Brianna’s” aunt, and in this episode he laments Reverend Wakefield’s being the last of his family. Wake up and smell the bloodline, Thrush! It’s true your “some times great-grandparents” Claire mentions are somewhere in America, but… Jocasta is your aunt. Jamie and Brianna are your cousins. You’re surrounded by family. Don’t forget, you’re a direct descendent of war chief Dougal MacKenzie.

In case you missed it, the Regulators’ watchword is Clan Fraser’s war cry: Caisteal Dhuni.

The Quakers of The Revolution are herrrrrrrre. I got concerned about “Mr. Hunter’s” being with Hermon Husband at Murtagh’s camp, mistaking him for Dr. Denzell, and thinking his presence does not make sense, but that Hunter is James. Carry on.

I admit my brain is strained right now and I’m not doing my best thinking, but how does this make sense? Claire: “Jamie, even though he’s not a time traveller, his very presence here has affected the future of a lot of people who are not breathing anymore.” O… kay…

Spirituality aside, what kind of future do people who are not breathing anymore have?

Is this an awkwardly expressed statement? Has Claire over imbibed? Do I need to medicate and/or lie down? What am I missing?

Joy to the World. Mary-Jane, Andrea, and I could have used Roger’s guitar accompaniment when we performed a wee Jeremiah-was-a-bullfrog song and dance number at our Grade 6 class Christmas party. I remember Glen got my name and gave me a box of Black Magic chocolates. But I digress…

Brianna’s first word was “dog.” Is Jemmy’s “hey?” So cute!

I know something very barbaric happened after Bonnet felled his duel opponent, but I might never see it if I manage to avert my eyes each time that part of the episode arrives. Two viewings, two misses, so far...

He’s a father now? F*&k you, Bonnet.  To quote your purported son,

“I want to see the wallygator eat the pirate.”

*noise, not music

__________

Photo: Starz Gifs: @whiteraven-s​ @stewartandclarke​ @scotsmanandsassenach​  @tzaharasykes​

#Outlander #Personal #Review #Written while stunned #The Fiery Cross #S5E2 Between Two Fires #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Murtagh FitzGibbons Fraser ⚔️ #Brianna MacKenzie #Roger MacKenzie #Jemmy MacKenzie #Marsali Fraser #Isaiah Morton #Ronnie Sinclair #Lieutenant Hamilton Knox #Hermon Husband #James Hunter #191 #022420

[gothamsnightmare]

Hands off

Imagine being Jerome’s older sister that he’s very close to and protective of and him stopping a guy from harassing you.

Pairing: Jerome Valeska x Sister-Reader

Warnings: Death, Violence, Blood, mild verbal harassment (really nothing sexually graphic, but any woman who’s ever been repeatedly bothered by a man before might still find it triggering)

Word Count: 2,494

You were standing at the large table in the Legion of Horribles Headquarters, looking at a bunch of spread out plans, papers and maps, just randomly pondering over various details of your brother’s latest plan, making sure that everything was lining up well so far.

Suddenly Darryl, one of the random inmates that had stayed with Jerome, Jervis and Jonathan after they broke out of Arkham to help, joined you at the table.

Crap, here we go again.

He’d been obnoxiously trying to hit on you ever since he first saw you 3 days ago and found out, to his delight, that you were Jerome’s older sister (well half-sister, technically), born out of another one night stand his mother had with some random guy at the circus a few years before the twins were born.

A relationship that Jerome had been keeping secret from the Gotham public eye so far, but had decided to openly embrace now in light of him finally deciding to also “reconnect” with your other little brother, Jeremiah, something he’d declared you should definitely be a part of, regardless of how you yourself actually felt about Jeremiah and the Twins‘ big falling out years ago.

Truth was, yes, you had always been really mad at Jeremiah for what he’d done to Jerome and for leaving the circus over night (something that had come out of nowhere to you as well), but, since Jeremiah had never chosen to turn on you personally when he told his stories (they were only ever about Jerome), you didn’t even know how you felt about him now. 

Still, he had abandoned you as well, so when Jerome had suddenly shown up on your door step a couple of days ago after escaping Arkham, and he told you he was going to finally start looking for “our dear bastard brother“, after initially insisting on staying out of it (you wanted the boys to figure this out on their own, and you weren’t particularly keen on having to see Jeremiah again completely out of the blue), Jerome, being his persistent self, kept reminding you over and over how “that little traitor“ ditched you both, so in the end, you finally agreed.

You’ve always had a hard time saying no to Jerome when he did his begging-little-brother-routine on you (“Come on, sis, family reunions are always fun!“), you loved your little monster of a brother, cause you were by no means innocent either, that apparent genetic desire for violence in the Valeska family was running through your blood as well.

In fact, you shared many of Jerome’s wild, chaotic, fun loving murderous qualities, which is why you two easily got along so well (even though you also happened to share a lot of Jeremiah’s personality traits as well).

Meaning you’d be here to stay and very actively involved, and apparently Darryl figured that was an invitation for him to try to get into your pants whether you liked it or not.

“So gorgeous, how’s it looking? Everything working out?“ he asked, failing as usual trying to seem casual.

You pointedly ignored him and kept studying the papers right in front of you, something seemingly not adding up properly having just caught your attention.

Your eyes, however, narrowed slightly while you were reading, and your jaw clenched, hard.

Why wouldn’t this bastard leave you the hell alone?

He leaned on the table on his right elbow into your direction, making it increasingly harder for you to focus.

Silently watching you for a moment, his eyes were roaming over your beautiful, silky, red hair, the very same fiery red shade as the twins’, currently falling loosely and a bit wavy over your right shoulder, instead of being held together in it’s usual, somewhat messy low bun.

“… you know what they say about red-heads, don’t you?“

Darryl enquired, flashing you that bright, incredibly vexing smile of his that made your blood boil every time you just caught it out of the corner of your eyes, leaning even closer to you.

Internally cursing yourself for deciding to let your hair down a few minutes ago, the tight bun starting to give you a bit of a headache, but something he clearly figured you had done just to entice him, you angrily closed your eyes momentarily and sucked in a very annoyed breath, trying to keep any murderous impulses in check, something you were technically pretty good at, repressing your anger.

It was an ability you usually shared with Jeremiah, but today… oooh, he was really testing your patience, this being the third time within the last half hour he’d been bothering you.

Jerome had been gone all day, trying to get more pieces of information together about the whereabouts of his elusive twin, so obviously Darryl figured that was his chance to strike again.

For most of the day so far, you’d been doing relatively fine, because Oswald and Freeze both highly disapproved of some guy constantly trying to hit on the women of the Legion just because they were there, and they’d both been telling him off several times whenever he was trying to start things up with you again.

Now however they were both gone, somewhere else in the mansion doing whatever, and you were left alone with him.

You had been so overly bothered by this guy by now that you were seriously considering asking Tetch to solve your problem with hypnosis or beg Crane to scare him away from you or better yet, just let Bridgit set his annoying ass on fire, but all 3 of them were currently off with your brother.

Every time he left and you thought you’d finally catch a break from him, he waltzed right back in again.

Your gloved fingers now started to clench on the table, and, looking up at the ceiling, you let out a shaky, annoyed sigh, slowly starting to realize you couldn’t keep your murderous impulses down for much longer, you were starting to twitch with anger and the desire to finally just gut him.

Not wanting to start a bloody mess on the papers in front of you however, you were just starting to consider at least breaking your silence and throwing a few choice insults his way after all, when a familiar sound of footsteps entering the room behind the two of you finally brought you the comforting feeling of Jerome having just walked in.

Your shoulders unclenched as your head snapped back down.

Oh thank god!

“Eh? You know what they say, sweets?“ he repeated, clearly completely oblivious to the sudden danger he found himself in.

Because if there was one thing that Jerome absolutely could not stand, it was when any guy tried to even get remotely close to you.

After all the years of having to watch the creeps your mother tended to hook up with and having to endure their torture and taunts whenever he was around, Jerome got very easily triggered by men who reminded him of Lila’s past boyfriends even in the slightest.

These kinds of men may have managed to corrupt his mother, but they were not going to get you, his favorite sibling, the only one who had ever loved him and accepted him for who he was and secretly always had his back during his rough child hood.

So you knew you were finally safe, the moment Jerome had appeared.

A wicked grin slowly appeared on your face, one very much like Jerome’s, suddenly making the resemblance between you and your brother unmistakable.

Oh this would be fun.

Clearly thinking he finally caught your attention successfully, Darryl proceeded to try to continue with his cliche pick-up line

“… They say -“

Well, what it was exactly that this disgusting pig thought he knew about red-heads, you never found out, because before he could finish his sentence, he was roughly grabbed by the shoulder and slammed down hard onto the chair standing next to him.

Keeping an insanely tight grip on him with one of his white, gloved hands, Jerome quickly moved dangerously close to your tormentors face from behind, taking out his pocket knife with the other hand as he did so.

"Darrrryyylll…. What did I tell you about harassing my sister?“ he asked with a seemingly pleasant voice and a very bright smile on his face, yet clearly implying impending death with each word that he spoke.

Jerome forced the man to look at him with the gloved hand that was gripping his shoulder, twisting him towards him in his seat, a dangerous smile on his scarred face, still remaining relatively calm like he was just going to have a casual conversation with the guy, but his eyes started to go darker with anger the longer he looked at him.

Darryl started to shrink in his seat under Jerome’s now slightly-manic death-stare, desperately trying to come up with a good excuse, but the impending wrath of your brother suddenly seemed to have made it very hard for him to find the right words.

“Huh?“

Jerome asked again, moving even closer to his face, giving his shoulder a rough squeeze, and, when he still received no satisfying answer, just a few stammers, he finally let the blade of his knife snap out.

He moved it up to Darryl’s face, looking at the man inquiringly.

You gleefully watched this scene unfold in front of you, finally that jerk got what was coming to him.

“…nnnottttto dddo itttanymoreee?“’

Darryl finally managed to some what shakily let out, fearfully looking at the tall red-head still bend very closely down to his face.

Despite his intense anger, Jerome started to enjoy the sight of the terrified man shaking beneath him, and, though his hate-filled eyes were exclusively focused on the scum squirming in front of him (as much as this was possible for the guy with the impossibly tight grip that Jerome had him on by now), he was very well aware that you were watching him defend you with joy, so he finally burst out laughing, which made the smile on your own face only that much bigger, and the look in your eyes that much darker, knowing what was about to happen.

“Ah Darryl… we understand each other, right?“

The anger in Jerome’s voice seemed to have suddenly disappeared completely as he finally let go of the man’s shoulder and instead put that arm around him, acting all chummy, all while waving the blade of his knife in front of the guy’s face.

The man shakily nodded, not quite sure whether to keep Jerome’s face or the blade in his sight.

“Then let’s not let my sister -“  - he made a nod into your direction while pointing with his knife -  “- get between us - “ - he pointed the knife at Darryl and himself, Darryl not letting it out of his sight - “- from now on, and just - keep - working!“ Jerome cheerily finished, while tapping the man’s thigh with his knife during the last three words of his sentence.

“What d'ya say?“ he then asked as if he actually gave him an option. A still quaking Darryl quickly nodded his agreement, making Jerome laugh out loud again.

Finally removing his arm from the guy and walking around to stand right front of him, Jerome’s scarred face suddenly went completely dark again as he grabbed Darryl by the front of his shirt and roughly pulled him very close up to his face one last time, poking him in the cheek with his knife as he did so, blood instantly starting to trickle down the man’s face.

“Don’t ever talk to her again, buddy!“

He said, and this time, there was no hint of cheerfulness, real or fake, in Jerome’s voice, just plain danger.

“Got it?“

The insanely tense death-stare in Jerome’s eyes was suddenly back too, he kept it up with the man for a few seconds.

Then, apparently quite unexpectedly for Darryl, based on his violent flinch when it happened, Jerome swiftly let go of the man’s shirt to move away from him for good, and went to leave.

Your face suddenly fell.

That was it?

Jerome’s sudden, mature calmness surprised you, you had expected him to proceed to slicing up the man’s throat now, but instead, your brother actually calmly put the blade of his knife away and pocketed it as he walk past you out of the room, not even looking at you.

‘What the hell?’ you thought, looking after Jerome in surprise, who seemed completely oblivious to your outrage at letting the man just get away with this.

Darryl, meanwhile, remained frozen in his seat, still too shaken from this unpleasant encounter with Jerome, just staring after him.

“… Actually, on second thought -“

Jerome suddenly stopped in his tracks, unexpectedly drew his gun, turned around and blew the guy’s brains out.

Blood splattered all across the papers as Darryl’s lifeless body dropped onto the table.

“Jerome, I was trying to keep those clean!“ you exclaimed.

“And, by the way, you’re welcome!“ was his only response as he walked back over to you, tucking away his gun and kicking the dead body off the chair.

Taking a seat, Jerome now grinned at you proudly, he knew god damn well you weren’t mad at him at all.

And of course, with the source of your tension finally gone, your face couldn’t help but start to light up again as well.

You were looking at him, sitting there, being all proud of himself, like a little boy…

This sight of him led to you suddenly letting out a little snort of laughter while somewhat rolling your eyes at him, and, shaking your head, you walked over to him, then playfully grabbed your brother’s chin with your right hand.

Your much smaller frame was bending down to his face to look him directly in the eyes, pretending to go into lecturing-big-sister-mode, while Jerome, straightening up in his chair, likewise pretended to shift into innocent-little-brother-mode, looking up at you intently, still very fiercely reminding you of a little kid.

“You know, honey, you gonna keep doing that, you’re not gonna have anyone left to help you!“ reminding him with that of the fact that this was actually the 4th of his Arkham low-lifes he’d murdered over the last two days just for bothering you.

You let go of his chin to lightly slap his cheek twice lovingly with your gloved hand, straightening up again, wanting to get back to work.

Jerome just proudly flashed you another one of his signature grins, a manic, joyful gleam appearing in his eyes, as he proclaimed:

“No one messes with my big sis!“

And with that, he jumped up again, actually proceeded to plant a kiss onto your temple, and skipped back out of the room, bursting into loud laughter again as he went.

[get-your-fics]

Duality - Chapter Ten

Summary: Your life as Bruce Wayne’s girlfriend was pretty simple, actually. Well, as simple as things can get in Gotham. But it gets a lot more complicated when you meet Jeremiah Valeska, Jerome’s twin brother.

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x reader, Jeremiah Valeska x reader, Jerome Valeska x reader

Series warnings: Violence, language, smut, rape/non-con, kidnapping, stalking, mentions of abuse

CHAPTER NINE

The first thing you noticed after Ecco took your coat and led you through the winding maze to Jeremiah’s lab was that Bruce was not there. “Where’s Bruce?” You stepped into the room and looked around, but the raven-haired boy was no where to be found.

Jeremiah looked up from tinkering with a life-size version of the model you had seen a week ago. “Ah, (Y/N). Nice of you to make it.” His lips curled into a smile as his eyes raked over your form. “Mr. Wayne will be joining us shortly. In the meantime, I thought I could give you a quick demonstration.”

Your heart started beating faster at the thought of being alone with Jeremiah. It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen? you tried to reassure yourself, but you stopped thinking before your mind could run away with all the possibilities. “Sure. I’m up for it.”

His smile grew wider at your words. He set down blueprints and a pen on the table next to him and picked up some sort of controller. “Could you hit that switch on the wall behind you please?”

You looked over your shoulder to see a giant, metal switch on the wall. You tentatively reached out and flipped it. The whole building went dark, and your heart jumped straight to your throat. You started to think that maybe this was some sort of trap when a soft, blue light started to radiate from the machine. It grew brighter and brighter until all of the lights flickered for a moment before coming back on at full force.

You stepped closer to the engine in the middle of the room. You could hear a low, steady buzzing sound coming from it. “Ambient energy,” Jeremiah said behind you, nearly causing you to jump out of your skin. “No cables or wires of any kind. It’s clean and stable, harvested from micro tremors and air density shifts.” The blue light from the machine reflected off of his glasses. “It’s... it’s virtually without costs.”

You looked back at the engine, mesmerized by the bright, blue light. “This is amazing, ‘Miah. We’ll be able to help so many people all over Gotham.”

He perked up at your words of praise. You felt his hand brush against yours, and he intertwined your fingers. He whirled you around to meet his adoring gaze. “(Y/N), would you do me the honor of letting me take you out to dinner?”

Your whole body went tense. “Jeremiah, I’m dating Bruce.”

His eyes roamed over the uncomfortable expression on your face. “Forgive me, you’re just so beautiful, I... I couldn’t help myself.”

You slipped your hand out of his grasp and took a step back. “I think I should call Bruce and makes sure he’s on his way...”

“Do you love him?” he cut you off.

You furrowed your brow. “Bruce? Yes, of course.”

His lips pulled taut into a straight line, and you deduced he wasn’t happy with your answer. “Did you love my brother?”

You let out a forced laugh. “What are you talking about? I barely knew Jerome.”

“Well, that doesn’t add up with what he said the other day.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. “It got me thinking, so I had Arkham Asylum send me Jerome’s personal effects. His diary was among them.” He opened the drawer of a little side table and pulled out a black notebook. He held it up so you could see the cover. It was decorated with a blue, dripping ice cream cone and glittery letters that spelled, JEROME.

“He wrote a lot about your visits, about what your father did to you.” He flipped through the pages, and you could see a lot of crude drawings done in pen and multiple phrases written over and over again in scribbled handwriting. He turned to a page with a drawing that was unmistakably of you. However, your eyes were completely black, and ruby red blood dripped out of your tear ducts and down your face.

You stared in horror at the drawing. “Jeremiah, I really don’t think you should be looking at that.”

“He clearly loved you, as much as a monster like him can love someone, and I think you love him too.” The expression on his face was stone cold, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on edge. “You’re just too afraid to admit to yourself.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to regain your composure. “I think I should step out for a minute, see how far away Bruce is.” You started for the door and got out your phone.

He snatched it out of your hand before you could even hit the home button. “I wouldn’t bother. He’s not coming.”

Your hands started to shake. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not coming. I didn’t invite him.” He dropped your phone to the floor and crushed it under the heel of his dress shoe with a heart-shattering crunch. “I wanted to get you by yourself.”

Your eyes widened as you looked from your destroyed phone to the eerie expression on his face. "Jeremiah, you’re scaring me.”

“Oh! I almost forgot to thank you for the present you sent me.” He walked around you to a desk in the corner of the room.

You wrinkled your nose. “I didn’t send you a present.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t.” He bent down to pull open a bottom drawer and retrieved something out of it. He slammed it down on the table, and you squinted your eyes as you stared at it. It was an old-looking jack in the box that had been previously wrapped in purple wrapping paper and tied with a big, white, silk bow. It was opened, and the jack in the box had a nozzle where its mouth should be. Hanging off of it was a tag that read, “From (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“It looks like my brother had one last surprise in store for me, and he knew just how to get me to open it.” He stepped closer to you. “A fail safe in case he needed someone to continue his legacy. Unfortunately for him, his plan failed.” He took off his glasses and set them down on the table. “Besides some minor side effects.”

He took his handkerchief out of his vest pocket and wiped his face. Slowly, he removed flesh-colored makeup to reveal skin as white as a bed sheet and scarlet lips. He took out his contacts, and when he opened his eyes, they were a disturbing, glassy green.

The air left your lungs as you took in his unnatural appearance. “Jeremiah, you need help. Let me and Bruce help you.”

“Like how your mother just wanted to help you?” It took you a second for realization to wash over you. That conversation you had with your mother, he had been watching you. “Face it, (Y/N). Your connection to Jerome, to Bruce... You were meant for me.” He stalked towards you. “You can understand me like no one else can. We were made for each other.”

You backed up until the back of your thighs hit the edge of the cool, metal table. You were trapped. “Jeremiah, you’re not thinking straight,” you tried to convince him, but the panic in your voice was painfully evident. “Don’t do anything you’d regret.”

“Oh, I’m not going to regret a single thing.” His lips stretched into an unnerving smile. “Jerome and Bruce have kept you from me for long enough. Now, I’m finally going to take what’s mine.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

[itsiffysworld]

PotHead  (BLKSWN)

Talicia followed behind her older brother, Jeremiah into the house. The smell of alcohol and weed hit her nose, making her scrunch it in slight disgust. There was a huge group of black men in the living room, all ranging from the age 16-25, and they all eyed her. Talicia shrunk slightly from their gazes of lust knowing she shouldn't have worn her volleyball shorts and thin hoodie, she wiped imaginary sweat from her brow after her brother dapped up and said hello to everyone and continued his ascension up the stairs.

"I need you to stay in here for me, Licia. Don't touch anything, just chill out for a while, I gotta handle something."

"Fuck you bring me here for if I'm all going to do is sit around? I have a lot of homework Miah." Talicia said in frustration.

"Calm yo ass down, I'm a be right back. Stop asking questions, I just needed you here for a little bit. Stay in this room, okay?" Jeremiah replied lowering his hand in a gesture of Talicia taking it down a notch. He left and Talicia sat pissed that her brother had dragged her to this stupid house, where she didn't know anybody. Only for him to ditch her in some room, alone.

"Fucking Jeremiah," Talicia whispered under her breath in pure irritation. Talicia bounced her foot on the ground and swiveled around in the swivel chair she sat in, her boredom soaring through the roof.

The door began to open and Talicia could feel her heart speed up in fear. She looked around for possible weapons in case things got crazy and she needed to retaliate herself from assault. Her fears only dialed back a bit when her dark brown eyes met with another pair of dark brown eyes. They had kindness in them and they gave her slight reassurance.

"Um, Hi." She said meekly, giving a weak wave to the man, who walked in and looked at her in confusion.

"Hi." He replied in slight puzzlement.

"This your room?" She asked awkwardly, patting her knees.

"Yeah, mind if I ask why you're in it?"

"My brother told me to stay in here while he handled some 'business' or whatever." Talicia gave air quotes than rolled her eyes.

"Oh- you Jay's sister, Talicia right?" The guy asked snapping his fingers, a pearly white smile spreading on his face that Talicia couldn't help but begin to blush at.

"Yeah, that's me." The usually confident and sassy girl was being uncharacteristically shy.

"Damn, I could barely recognize you. You look different as hell, not different in a bad way, I mean you beautiful- you probably don't remember me." The handsome man said interrupting his own rambling.

"I definitely don't. Who are you again?"

"I'm Christopher, I used to be really good friends with your brother in Middle School, but shit happened. You really done grown up on me, shit how old are you now?" He asked licking his lips sensually giving Talicia a good look.

"I'm 19 now, your name sounds kind of familiar," Talicia said giving a slight look of thought.

"Catch me up, on ya life. Might as well conversate, since you don't know how long your brother gonna be doing his thing or whatever." Christopher said, sitting on his bed. The two began to conversate and even after catching up on one another's personal lives, they went outside of that realm and spoke about music, art, food. An hour had passed and neither of them didn't even realize it.

"Damn it's 10:00? Time really flew by." Christopher let out in surprise, eyeing the clock on his dresser.

"Really? Jesus, how long is Miah gonna take. I have fucking homework, I need to get done due tomorrow." Talicia groaned in a worrying fashion running her fingers, through her long curls.

"Damn, you seem stressed," Christopher replied in concern, giving her a look of sympathy.

"That's cause, I am. This class has been whooping my ass all fucking semester, and this homework could determine whether or not I keep the barely C, I have in this class."

"You need to relax or something?" He said a coy smile sliding on to his face.

"Yes, I just need to get myself calm because I'm getting all worked up thinking about it," Christopher smirked and went into his drawer and pulled out a box.

"I got you, baby girl. You ever smoked?" Talicia's eyebrows scrunched together.

"As in cigarettes?" Christopher laughed at her answer. answer.

"Nah, as in weed."

"No, I haven't found any reason to use it before." Talicia said watching with interest as she watched him roll the blunt and lick it to make sure it stuck.

"It's gonna help you relax, that I can tell you for sure. Ease your mind. Get you out of worrying about ya homework for a while." He used his finger to tell her to come here and patted next to him on his bed. Talicia got up from the swivel chair and sat next to Christopher, staring at him intently as he lit it and took a big inhale of it.

"Woah." She said in wonder watching him, blow the smoke through his nose.

"You ain't never seen no-one smoke before?" He asked in a quizzical sense, laughing at her head shake. He handed her the blunt and coached her slowly while she took inhale of the cannabis. She coughed furiously, handing it back to him.

"Oh shit." She said while Christopher rubbed her back.

"Baby steps, baby steps. You have to be slow with it like I said." He took another hit, letting the drug cool his mind. He handed it back over to Talicia who was coming along.

"This is different."She said with a slight grin as the effects began to kick in. She fell back on the bed into a fit of giggles, she stressed melting away for a moment.

"You like it?" Christopher asked falling back on the bed with her.

"Love it! Man fuck my brother, I'm glad he left me, I wouldn't have experienced this." Her grin grew bigger, she turned her head towards Christopher, their eyes meeting for a moment.

"You got some pretty looking ass lips, Licia," Christopher commented, licking his lips once more, his lowered eyes becoming filled with lust.

"Thank you, you want to see what they can do?" Talicia asked boldly, rolling over on top of Christopher and sitting upon him. Her shorts rose up a little bit as Christopher began to become aroused when she ground on him. He softly caressed her face and brought it down to his and gave her lips a sweet kiss. Talicia pressed hers down, and the two begin to roughly make out, their tongues slipping into one another's mouths. 

Talicia moaned feeling herself getting slippery the more she moved against him, He pushed his basketball shorts down and pushed her shorts to the side and rubbed his pulsating tip against her fat folds, biting his lip at the good warm feeling. She threw her head back letting herself slide down on his dick, in a slow fashion. He pushed her down quicker, impatient making Talicia gasp and grip his shoulders in some pain.  She began to bounce, riding him with great pleasure.

He held her hips and helped her steady herself, she went fast and he slowed her down a bit before he busted too quick. Talicia became intoxicated with how good it felt and ground on him pushing back the tears, when she felt him hit a spot, she truly believed wasn't possible. They didn't speak, their only communication their sweet moans. Talicia's mouth fell open and she let her head fall, she was high in a figurative and literal sense, her body not used to this amazing feeling of sexual touch.

"Fuck." Christopher whispered quietly, as he placed his hand up under Talicia's hoodie and firmly gripped her breast, he massaged it, giving a euphoric closed eye smile at her squeals. Talicia brought her face down once more and gave a hungry kiss to, Christopher. Holding his face, she moaned into the kiss feeling her climax approaching faster then she expected.

Her cream coated him and he enjoyed that feeling greatly, letting Talicia speed up once more. The bed creaked and the headboard put a dent in the wall, the faster Talicia went. All of the pent-up frustration she had was flowing all over the place and the feeling made, Talicia yells out loud enough for anyone in hearing distance to hear.

Christopher let out a low groan and spilled his seed into her, it dripping out and staining the fabric of his shorts. The realization of him bursting into her hadn't clicked for either, as they smashed their lips together once more while Christopher gripped her ass.

*******

[crazedlunatic]

The First Time

This was different.

This was going to be different.

To be completely honest, Kurt was surprised that his dad had believed the Rachel and Mercedes sleep over thing. Then again, Kurt was eighteen. Maybe his dad knew he was lying but just chose to go along with it for both of their sanity.

And he also couldn’t believe that he was going to spend the night at Blaine’s house.

Spend the night at Blaine’s house.

It was the end of September and they had now been dating a little over six months. Had they explicitly said they would be having sex at this little sleepover? No. But it felt different. There had been several sleepovers at Dalton but those had been different. At that Wes and David were always there, making kissy and sucking noises as Kurt and Blaine cuddled on Blaine’s bed.

But, no. This sleepover was not going to be like those. There was no Wes and David to be there. To keep things from happening that wouldn’t have happened before, but were much more likely to happen now.

After all, their last two visits hands had been granted access below the equator… and that had been amazing. He had never thought it could feel that good but Blaine was apparently some hand job God or something. After the initial shock and partial anxiety attack (Blaine Anderson was touching him, for God’s sake!) had worn off, it had literally been one of the most amazing feelings ever.

And hearing the noises that Blaine had made when Kurt had touched him. That had just been something else entirely and it was almost scary how much power he’d had over Blaine in those few minutes. How amber Blaine’s eyes had been, how he tilted his head back and had made those noises for him.

Kurt was ready, though. He wanted to have sex with Blaine. It wasn’t about the fact that Blaine had lost his virginity three years ago when he was fifteen while Kurt was still stuck on Virgin Island. It wasn’t even about how Kurt wanted to feel more of that kind of pleasure—not that he didn’t want to feel it, of course! It ran deeper than that, though.

He and Blaine had been growing closer and closer. Kurt had been afraid when Blaine moved in August that they would instantly grow apart and that Blaine would end things. Instead, it had brought them closer together. The time they did get to spend together had been cut drastically, but it made the times together all that much more special. Not to mention the fact that it was impossibly hard to date Blaine Anderson and not think about things like that when he had those messy curls(maybe Kurt liked them more than he’d admit, even if they weren’t easily tamed without the help of half of a gel bottle) and those hazel eyes and that sweet smile. He just wanted to love Blaine.

He did love Blaine, but he wanted… more. He wanted to go to that next level with Blaine. He knew for a fact that Blaine would never hurt him. Blaine was a perfect gentleman who probably would have waited for five years if Kurt had asked him too. Blaine would never force or pressure him to do anything. In fact, the words that Kurt were hearing more and more often lately were, “I want to make sure that you’re comfortable… so I can be comfortable.”

He was ready, though. In fact, he had probably decided that two weeks ago when he and Blaine had last… Could you call it fooling around when no actual sex had been involved? Not to mention the amount of masturbating he had been doing since the hand jobs started was getting a little out of hand and he couldn’t help but think it was because he wanted more.

When had Kurt gone from not wanting to talk about sex to masturbating multiple times a day, lying to his father in order to have a sleepover at his older boyfriend’s house, and planning to lose his virginity? To be honest, Kurt couldn’t remember.

It didn’t matter, though. He just knew he was ready.

…

Kurt woke up comfortable and warm, Blaine’s arms wrapped tightly around him. He stretched, wincing just a tiny bit, and shuffled closer. They had really done it. Kurt and Blaine had had sex. They had had sex and fallen asleep, legs tangled together and happy.

And now he was waking up next to Blaine. It was the most amazing feeling ever. Maybe he was a little sore but it really wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be—they had gone really slow and Blaine had been very gentle, of course. The soreness was alright though, because the before, during, and the after of the night before had just been… amazing.

“Mmmh.” Blaine moaned, nuzzling Kurt.

“Are you awake?” Kurt whispered, carefully sitting up and looking down at his boyfriend. Sometimes it was still hard to believe that they were together. That Blaine wanted and loved him and not Jeremiah Gap Guy or Thad—because Blaine was the only person in the world to not realize that Thad was gay.

“Now I am.” Blaine said, slowly opening his eyes and giving Kurt a small, sleepy smile. “How do you feel?”

“Great.” Kurt said, smiling back somewhat nervously. Was he allowed to say that? He did feel great. But what if Blaine was having second thoughts? Or what if Blaine thought he was horrible in bed? “How do you feel?”

“Wonderful.” Blaine pushed himself into a sitting position and bit his lip, trying very hard not to keep from grinning.

Kurt’s smile grew and he shuffled closer, moving so that he was sitting next to Blaine with his head rested on Blaine’s shoulder. Blaine sure didn’t seem like he’d had a bad time. And if the noises he’d been making the night before were symbolic of anything, it was definitely not boredom.

“Are you sore?” Blaine asked quietly, looking down at him.

“A bit. It’s not bad.” Kurt blushed.

“Good. I was trying to be gentle. I didn’t want to hurt you.” Blaine bit his lip. “Sorry you’re sore at all.”

“I think it’s to be expected, isn’t it?” Kurt asked, smile still plastered on his face. How was it possible to be this happy?

“Are you… do you…” Blaine said slowly. “I mean… You don’t wish we’d waited?”

“Not at all.” Kurt said instantly and firmly.

Blaine let out a relieved sigh and moved them into a laying position, arms going around Kurt. “I was afraid you might…” he admitted.

“I could never regret anything that involves you.” Kurt whispered, leaning his forehead against Blaine’s and reaching his hand down to take one of Blaine’s hands.

Blaine smiled, raising their hands and kissing Kurt’s knuckles. “Good. I could never regret anything involving you either, Kurt.”

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

Peaky Match #238: Jessie Eden, Ben Younger, Alfie Solomons

This is a result from the Who’s Your Peaky Match? quiz. The content is under a read more to prevent spoilers for those who haven’t taken the quiz yet.

Give And Take

You have a wonderful and mutually supportive relationship with your partner. Together, you and your partner are building something that you think will last and grow in a healthy way, setting boundaries and helping each other through rough times in life. You’re not afraid of asking for what you need or getting your partner’s help with some part of your own business, whether it’s to do with crime, politics, or family. Trust and communication are ultimately the cornerstones of your relationship, and that’s why you two have been able to last for so long, despite all the drama in Birmingham.

Equality For Everyone

You believe in basic goodness and human rights for all, and you try to live that in your everyday life. This doesn’t mean you’re a total saint -- after all, everyone’s got to have a little bit of asshole in them in order to survive -- but you try, and trying is half the battle. This makes you a rare jewel in Birmingham. Even if people don’t realize it at first, they eventually find that your belief in justice and kindness makes you a really refreshing person to be around. Even those who don’t share your convictions are forced to respect them.

Examples: Jessie Eden, Jeremiah Jesus

Hearth & Heart

Your greatest strengths are your emotional intelligence and your ability to deal with other people. You may be underestimated, but ultimately your gifts are priceless, whether used for private reasons or for professional ones: you can read people, persuade people, and connect with people. Your wide network and deep roots in the city means that you will often be the go-between in important deals, and you have a lot of contacts if you need them. Plus, when you have the time and resources, you know how to live the good life, with a pleasant household, delicious food, and real relationships.

Jessie Eden

(post-s4 AU)

You’ve always had a crush on Jessie Eden. Your professional paths cross often through through your hardscrabble work as a lawyer for the same tenants that she organizes. But you never think she notices you, until one day you’re dragged before local party leaders and accused of leaking information to the police. Jessie defends you, then drives down to the Shelby estate and gives the real snitch, Tommy, the shouting match of his life. In the ensuing political battle, Tommy loses the race for Parliament and you successfully defend Jessie against charges of treason. Guess she noticed you after all.

Unexpected Bonus: Jessie, not much of one for church, always minds her aunt’s flower shop on Sunday mornings, and it’s your favorite time of the week. You talk out your arguments for upcoming court cases and she gets this glowing look in her eyes, seeing you at your full persuasive power. Sometimes you do vice versa with her and her upcoming speeches. Sometimes you don’t talk at all, half-hidden behind a screen of flowers in the back room, kissing her slowly with the smell of sweet pea and jasmine thick in the air.

Colonel Ben Younger

(post-WWI)

There’s just so much unnecessary pain caused by goddamn incompetence. The war taught you that much. When Ben comes back to you after four long years, you’re startled and relieved to find that you’ve both grown in the same way, found the same mission. Politics, especially military politics, are dirtier than a foxhole after three days of rain, but with Ben at your side, you can do anything. After the war, nothing feels safe but him, the way he’s young and hungry and beside you every at every step. The way he still kisses you like he’s just come home.

Unexpected Bonus: Even when you start gaining influence, it’s still an enormous amount of work to build and maintain the social networks of power, especially since Ben’s black in a city that still has plenty of gentlemen’s clubs full to the brim with politicians (and fucking Tommy Shelby) and yet not a single man of color allowed. (If you’re a person of color too, fuck, that’s a lot of work.) But when the lavish dinner is over, and your throat is sore from talking, your clothes a little sweaty, all the guests gone, you two sit in the ruins of the feast and eat like ravening wolves, having spent the entire party making conversation. Other days, when you don’t need to keep up a front, you’ll eat rice and butcher’s scraps, slightly stale bread, whatever, but on these feast days, it goes the fuck down. Full-on bonbon mayhem! The best treat of all is seeing the future General sprawled out on the sofa, suit unbuttoned, a smear of icing on his chin. You’ve never laughed harder.

Alfie Solomons

(post-s2)

After your father’s death, your relatives marry you off within the year. You’re expecting to fight the gangster, but instead he sits you down and draws up a contract between the two of you, humming and hawing, oddly harmless. You do nothing for a week, and he never complains, and then you, bored, go at housewifely duties with all the pent-up fury of a bored woman, which is to say, the house gleams and the roast is melt-in-your-mouth good. When he offers you a few orgasms by way of thanks for a good job, who are you to say no?

Unexpected Bonus: When you tell Alfie about your Parisian childhood, he offers to take you there for the honeymoon, and of course you say yes. You have a rip-roaring time with all your childhood buddies and your father’s friends. Dad was a Dreyfusard, so most of them have no problem with Alfie, and you even get to meet Sarah Bernhardt at some dinner party. Best of all, though, is when you take him on a row down the Seine at sunset, and you point out all your favorite spots in the city to him. He curses and harrumphs about his own inability to row, but then he lets you row, and by the time the stars come out, neither of you is rowing. It’s too good an opportunity to waste on not kissing.

To read more imagines like this, feel free to peruse the masterlist.

If you enjoyed this quiz/these imagines, I’d love it if you could send an ask, leave a comment, or reblog. I’m curious to see if you thought your matches suited you!

I’m also especially curious about what you did and didn’t like about this quiz. I’m very open to feedback. I plan on writing another quiz once season 5 is done which will match you with a season 5 character, so I’m looking to improve here.

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reeader] pt.1

like what i do? consider buying me a coffee!

haha so i literally was on the fence abt how to do this first part before CB helped me decide ‘yeah this would work better so’ ;)

i’m gonna post this first part on it’s own since this one isn’t really heavy at all - but i’ll try to post the heavier parts w some fluffy stuff for people who need it/don’t want to read control

warnings: mainly just pain in this part. we’ll get into worse things later.

           The first day of eighth grade at a new school was stressful. You walked into your first class with shoes tied a bit too tight, backpack light, and your stomach tying itself in knots. You remembered finding your name taped into the corner of a desk, right next to a first: at the head of the list. You remembered not having friends for a while. And then you found yourself sitting behind Jeremy Heere in eighth grade physical science, and you found yourself partners with this awkward, tall, noodle-y thirteen year old for some stupid project that you actually didn’t remember. Jeremy Heere had planet stickers on his bedroom door. Jeremy Heere laughed at the same stupid jokes you did, liked the same music as you (plus more that you two got each other into), and loved video games like Spyro and Kirby. Jeremy Heere was your first friend, and then Michael Mell was your second, and the rest of eighth grade didn’t seem so tough anymore. You had friends to sit with at lunch, people to bitch about classes with, and video games to win and lose at sometimes with two pretty nerdy guys. But you didn’t mind that last part - you were fairly nerdy as well. They didn’t judge you for the little doodles you’d leave on your class notes or on your knockoff Vans or on the cuffs of your jeans - and neither did their parents, honestly. Michael’s moms accepted you like their own, treating you as if you knew Michael as long as Jeremy had. Jeremy’s parents were kind, his father soft-spoken and his mother bold and full of life even on her longest work days. You felt at home with the two of them.

          Freshman year wasn’t so daunting either - the three of you moving onto Middleborough with a lot of familiar faces. Freshman year was when the three of you went to homecoming together for about thirty minutes before ditching to go play Mario Party 7 on the GameCube that Michael Mell still had in his basement with his brother sometimes chilling in the background every so often. Freshman year was when Jeremy met Christine Canigula for the first time, saw the winter play with her in it, and immediately fell. Freshman year was when you realized how the butterflies that stayed in your stomach whenever you were near Jeremy weren’t just anxiety-fueled, but a soft sort of yearning that fluttered whenever his hand brushed your own. The end of freshman year was when things started turning rocky. The start of sophomore year is when Jeremy starting becoming distant, and in turn, that’s when Michael followed him out of your life. Hanging out started to become a happy daydream, lunch grew too quiet and a time to lose yourself in doodles and music, and your afternoons were filled with homework and no one to bitch to about it. Late sophomore year is when you heard about the divorce.

          You’d been standing next to Jeremy after school one day, a week later, stomach churning with anxiety and loose feelings that began to resurface. “I’m sorry about what happened, Jeremy.” You’d mustered up, fingers curled tightly around your bag, sleeves dipping down over your fingers. 

          He looked over to you, slouched forward and hands shoved into his pockets - a habit he’d recently picked up, as if maybe he could hide himself if he just kept trying. “Yeah.” He sort of smiled a little, “it’s... fine.” He lied. You remembered how Jeremy would badly lie: teeth slightly clenched, gaze averted, voice quiet and wavering every so slightly at the end of his words. 

          “Is there anything I can do-”

          “No.” He said, a bit blunt, before finally adding on, “it’s uh.. it’s fine, [y/n]. Thank you.”

          You watched his dad pull up, gaze distant and soft. Jeremy left your side. Fifteen minutes later, your dad’s car pulled up to the curb and you were quick to enter the car.

          Five months later, you were a junior - so close yet so far from that bit of freedom you craved. Just two more years and you’d be out of high school, and you could deal with college when that got closer. Five months later, and you were stuck with Jeremy Heere in four of your classes. In your American History class, he sat desks ahead of you, close to the door - and you’d caught yourself staring at the back of his head while your attention evaporated, and you prayed that he didn’t notice that shit because staring was creepy, fuck, you didn’t mean to stare at him. In Chemistry, he sat next to Michael at a table close to the teacher’s desk - the one in front of him preoccupied by a certain Rich Goranski and some baseball player who’s name you never bothered to remember, all because they were trouble and that was the easiest way for your teacher to keep an eye on him. In American Literature, he sat across the room, hidden behind multiple football players which gave him the perfect cover to nap behind because that was in the mornings and he was a tired little shit sometimes - something you understood a bit too personally. And then there was algebra, where you sat right next to Jeremy Heere, who always asked you for your calculator because he forgot his own. 

          You’d begun to keep your head down, your focus on anything but the people around you, and your task to keep invisible. You hardly stood out - plain clothes that were usually dark in color, hair sort of kept neat as you could keep it, and the normal shitty acne that you’d been trying to get rid of. Maybe it was the stress. You’d caught yourself picking at your nails plenty of times (and fuck, you were going to have to find out how to break the stupid habit), or keeping close to the walls and shoving your hands into your pockets, or fuck - when anxiety reared up bad enough, you’d take to biting your nails. In the eyes of the world around you, you could only assume you were written off as some emo freak or some shit - not that you’d care, frankly. You were left alone for the most part, and that’s how you enjoyed it.

          Jeremy, on the other hand, wasn’t. Something apparently turned Jeremy into more of a target than you - and to be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what it was. You’d seen Rich make shitty remarks to him, ranging from just a simple “tall-ass” to shit questioning Jeremy’s friendship with Michael being just that. Maybe one day you’d gather your courage and tell Rich to fuck off. But you weren’t a blip on the radar - not like how Jeremy was. So you told yourself it was better you stay safe for right now because Jeremy had Michael: you had no one, and you weren’t sure if putting that target on your back would leave you to survive high school. The regrets were there, sure, but at least you stayed unseen.

          At least, until around three weeks into the school year. You had this habit of going to the mall after schools just to wander - never really buying too much since you’d been saving your money from your allowance and your commissions (as sparse as they’d been) for some sweet merch you’d been eyeing up. This habit didn’t lend itself to every single day of every single week - but it had been enough to call it a habit, just because the idea of heading home alone to do nothing but drown yourself with bullshit homework assignments and commissions started to turn your stomach. You didn’t spend a long time there anyway - just sort of wandering into Spencer’s or into GameStop before leaving, maybe grabbing some pretzels or cookies or something first. One Thursday afternoon, you tore out of Spencer’s as business picked up, and as fate would have it: you stumbled right out into the familiar frame of Rich Goranski. Lucky for you, he’d been alone - about to make some comment as he studied your face. Recognition flickered. He knew you.

          Your breath caught in your throat as you flung yourself back a step, “shit - fuck, dude, I’m sorry, I should have-”

          He looked absent. “[y/n].” He said, voice quiet, processing slowly your presence before he blinked several times, as if he was coming back to life right before you. “Right?”

          You gave a slow, cautious nod. “Yeah... look, I’m sorry about-”

          “Tomorrow,” he cut you off, “after school, behind the gym. We’ll talk.”

          Anxiety squeezed your organs. “Fuck, dude-”

          “We’ll talk,” he repeated, and that pretty much solidified the thought that well, shit, you’re probably going to die.

          You nodded slowly before he walked off, muttering something softly before stealing a quick glance over his shoulder at you. And then he was gone, swinging into some store before you let out a long sigh. Okay, so - Rich was going to kill you, you decided. At least that means no chem test for you to fail? You frowned. Weak attempt to be okay with that - but... then again, when you really thought about it, Rich wouldn’t just... kill you on school grounds, right? Especially right after school?

          You swallowed hard, before heading towards the exit. Twenty-four hours. Time to see how many scenarios you can dream up.

          The entirety of Friday was swallowed up by dread and panic and everything shitty. Your heart was beating hard in your ears during your last class, and you’d been pretty damn jumpy all day - accidentally nearly throwing your calculator when Jeremy asked for it, right on cue, and then you came up with some bullshit excuse that you weren’t feeling too peachy keen, Jeremiah, but you’d definitely feel better later. He stared at you before sliding the case from your calculator, slowly turning back to Michael to continue his work. Could that have gone better? Totally. But he seemed to buy it at least - and that’s all that truly mattered in the end. Your leg bounced continuously for the entirety of lunch and throughout the remainder of your final class, anxiety screaming for some sort of release and endless leg bounce was the best way you could channel it. The moment the bell rang, you shoved your things into your bag and bolted out of the room, heading towards the gym. To your surprise, you were alone when you first arrived.

          Twenty minutes later, Rich showed up, bag hanging off of one shoulder and hands jammed into his jeans pockets. He gave you a once-over, before shrugging his bag from his shoulder, tossing it to the ground. This was it: he was gonna fucking kill you and you sort of stumbled back, wondering if you could outrun him-

          “... Jesus fucking - Relax.” He frowned, staring you down as he stretched, joints popping as he did so, “didn’t think you’d show up.”

          You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, uh, figured... you’d probably hunt me down if I didn’t - but... look, Rich, about yesterday-”

          He groaned, “god fucking-” He cut himself off there, watching as you tensed up, before letting out a heavy breath. “You...” He paused once more, studying your face, “you...” He spoke slowly, “you remember me freshman year, right?”

          You nearly said no. But you did: Rich Goranski, who sat next to you in Biology and... was actually rather quiet, speaking with a strong lisp that you weren’t sure if you remembered correctly because you’d never heard it again. Rich with the D&D dice set in a little pouch in his bag, who sorta smiled at you a little when you brought up this idea for a campaign you had but you didn’t have the players for. Nodding slowly, you finally answered him: “yeah. Biology-”

          “Then you remember how I was-”

          “Yeah? We talked about D&D a couple times-”

          “Don’t fucking bother me with that nerd shit,” he spat, “that’s not important right now.”

          You pressed your lips together for a moment, before finally speaking once more. “I... I don’t see what this has do to with yesterday-”

          “Shut up about that shit!” He snapped, and you flinched slightly and took a step back. He watched you, before he started to regain his composure. “Sorry. Habit.” Shitty habit. “Look. I thought you could use the help I got.”

          “What help? You went from being kinda nice to being a huge fucking dick-” You started before catching yourself. Anger flared up in his eyes. “Sorry-”

          “If you don’t fucking want my help, then fine-”

          “No!” You started, “no - dude, I just... what’s this help?”

          The smallest little smirk started to play at the corner of his lips, and he stood slightly straighter. “You like Jeremy, right?”

          Fuck, was it obvious? “How did you know-”

          He didn’t answer. His smirk became more apparent. Something about it was unnerving - and... Rich didn’t feel so Rich-like, as weird as it seemed. “I’ve got something that can help you with that.”

          “With... Jeremy?” You started, furrowing your brow, “look - Rich, Jeremy and I were friends-”

          “And you can be his friend again, and more, with a SQUIP.” Something about he said that made you feel uneasy. 

          But curiosity reigned supreme in the end. “A... what?”

          “A SQUIP,” he repeated, “it’s this grey, oblong pill with a supercomputer inside of it. You take it and,” he reached up, tapping the side of his head, “you don’t have to worry about shit anymore, because you’ve got it telling you all the right moves to make. You’ll be cooler or smarter or whatever the fuck you want to be! You want to fuck Heere - you can.”

          “I don’t-” You paused, cheeks growing warm, “is that... safe?”

          “It’ll help you.” He said. “Look, it’s six-hundred dollars-”

          “Six-hundred?” You parroted back, “oh, fuck, yeah sure, let me just pull out my fucking wallet with six-hundred in it right now-”

          “Are you always a sarcastic little shit?” Rich asked, stepping towards you, “give me your phone.”

          You pulled it out, unlocking it before holding it out. He opened the contact, and you could only assume he was punching his number into it. Thoughts simmered in your mind as he handed the phone back to you. Questions bubbled. You didn’t speak.

          “Text me when you get the money.” He gave you another smirk, “I know what you’re thinking but... it’s worth it. Trust me.”

          He turned, swiping up his bag in one hand before shrugging it back onto his shoulder, and left you standing there in the hot afternoon sun. Trust him. You looked down to your phone, Rich’s contact still open. You looked back up, watching him disappear into the distance, and started off towards your home. Six-hundred bucks for a pill that’ll change your life, by the sound of it. All you had to do was trust Rich. 

          You let the thought sit with you all through the rest of the afternoon, all through the half-assed attempt at homework that you’d probably finish throughout Sunday and Monday, through dinner with your parents. It wasn’t until you’d been tidying up your room that you found this old shoe-box hidden underneath your bed, and counted the cash that you’d found inside of it - seventy dollars. Why you’d hidden it away, you weren’t sure, but you remembered still having money from commissions that you’d been saving up on PayPal. Seventy as well, you were pretty sure. With your weekly allowance of fifteen dollars, that left you with over a hundred and fifty. Maybe getting six-hundred wouldn’t be too rough after all.

          So you took the leap and you trusted Rich.

          The next day, you called up as many family members as you could looking for any sort of work you could do. Your grandmother was happy to take you up on the offer, and for the next few hours you were outside doing a ton lawn work with the promise of fifty dollars fueling you forward. It wasn’t until you were sitting in her living room, ice-cold lemonade and cookies (the traditional grandma offerings, in your experience) between the two of you with conversation flying, that your phone started to ring and you were greeted with your aunts asking if you could babysit since your parents had said something about you wanting work and that they were willing to pay you forty for tonight - ten dollars an hour. Before you could question why Alexander (the oldest of their kids at age fourteen) couldn’t handle shit, you learned he’d been getting into fights and they couldn’t exactly trust him right then.

          So you thanked your grandmother for the refreshments and the money, and offered up to come help out again if she needed you within the next week before you head home to take a cold shower and head over to your aunts’ in a few hours. Time flew past quickly, and by eleven that night, you were sitting in your bedroom with ninety bucks to add to your total - and that was the moment it hit you that you should probably transfer your funds from PayPal to your bank account then instead of waiting.

          Sunday you started to clean things out, finding anything that you could sell. Thanks to trading in shit at GameStop, a lot of your old video games managed to add up to almost a hundred - only at the cost of childhood nostalgia. Counting everything up, you had roughly three-hundred and thirty dollars. This wasn’t so bad. You could handle this.

          Then came the idea of baking. That usually had a good payoff, right? Besides - you weren’t against the idea of baking at all, since it was rather therapeutic. You focused on baking cooking the entire night after dinner. You managed to rack up fifteen during the school day, fifteen more for baking shit for someone’s younger sibling’s birthday, and then twenty more from their mom for being such a nice kid and doing this on such short notice. Thursday comes and these seniors approach you after school, saying they heard you were the kid that bakes shit and asked if you wanted to come with them - and then immediately clarified they need your baking expertise for brownies, if you caught their drift.

          You did. You weren’t one for weed, but you were one for money. The girl with them drives you to one of their houses that looks a bit too fucking fancy for this kid to just be a stoner who goes to Middleborough. But you shook the thought away - you couldn’t really judge, could you? Money was money, and this wasn’t harming anyone. The three of them sat, talking you through everything while two of them pooled their money together to pay you upon your refusal of any brownies. The two come up with sixty, thanking you for being a bro and also using their vegan ingredients (which you honestly thought deserved an extra ten since vegan weed brownies weren’t your area of expertise) before the girl - Martha, you caught - drove you home.

          She asked you why you agreed. You told her you needed the money. She shoved an extra five into your hand saying that she can’t really pay much since she’s short on cash. You thanked her anyway, and immediately proceeded to do laundry the moment you got home just as a precaution because you really didn’t need to explain the smell of weed.

          Your allowance came the next day. That night you ended up texting Rich that you’ve almost got all the money, if the offer still stands. He told you he’d give you another week. The deadline surprised you, but you figured that you could maybe try to get some commissions if anyone was willing to buy. So you knocked down your prices seemingly out of nowhere, and you end up getting two takers for two full-body, full-background pieces for twenty each. You’d regret the work later. Through a mixture of art, more yard work, the selling of a couple books, you managed to withdraw what you needed with your allowance that Friday giving you the final bit you needed. You texted Rich. He told you to meet him behind the gym in an hour. You told him you’d have to sneak out. He told you it’d be worth it.

          So you trusted him.

          Picking the remainder of leaves off of your shirt, you looked up to see Rich approaching you, his truck pulled onto the grass with headlights shining behind him. His shadow stretched toward you, and soon he was standing before you, a shoe-box tucked under one arm and a Mountain Dew in his other hand. When you go to question him, he stopped you.

          “I’ll drive you home.” He said, shifting the box. You could hear rattling inside of it. “Where’s the money?”

          You reached into your sweatpants pocket, feeling the large wad of cash and for a moment, you had to wonder if this was a good idea or if Rich was just scamming you. Slowly withdrawing the money, you hold it out to him and he took it, shoving it into his own pocket. “You’re not going to count it?” You asked, watching him pop the box open.

          He looked back up at you. “Do I need to?”

          “It’s all there,” you said, “but... I just thought you’d-”

          “I trust you to not pull any shit.” He plucked a pill from the box, stepping towards you, “look. For some fucking reason, you have to take this shit with Mountain Dew. It’s going to fucking hurt for a bit but... it’s not gonna last long.”

          Cautiously, you took the pill from his hand, watching him uncap the Mountain Dew and hand it to you. You only watched him place the lid back on the box, stepping back for a moment to set it down, as he stared you down. Finally, you placed the pill on your tongue, and took a swig of the soda, the taste of mint chasing it’s way down your throat. A small smirk twitched at the corner of Rich’s mouth. Fear filled your stomach.

          “I... don’t think it-” You started, only for a sharp pain to stab through your head, “fuck-” For a moment, you thought that’d be it before the ache spread through your brain, pulsing. You let out a hiss, shutting your eyes, “shit, Rich-”

          > CALIBRATION IN PROCESS. PLEASE EXCUSE SOME MILD DISCOMFORT.

          Your legs shook underneath your weight, the pulsing threatening to knock you over, and before you knew it, Rich was there to steady you. But finally, your legs gave out, your hands flying to the sides of your head as you dug your nails into your scalp as the pain slowly increased, your breath growing more labored between the soft swears that started to spill from you. Then there was the strangest sensation of what you thought was something forcing it’s way into your brain took over. And then, all in a moment, it’s gone. You steadied yourself, looking to Rich as you were about to try to stand.

          “Was that-”

          > CALIBRATION COMPLETE. ACCESS PROCEDURE INITIATED.

          “Wait, Rich-”

          > DISCOMFORT LEVEL MAY INCREASE.

          “FUCK-”

          Barely a moment later, you’d been thrown to the ground as pain spiraled throughout every single fiber of your being. It grasped you strongly, seizing you with nothing but agony as spasms ran through you involuntarily, a shriek finally escaping you before Rich pounced, a hand clasped over your mouth as he swore, trying to keep you still. Tears streamed down your cheeks as your thoughts were gone, replaced with nothing but pain and the occasional swear and something else-

          > ACCESSING: NEURAL MEMORY.

          > ACCESSING: MUSCLE MEMORY.

          > ACCESS PROCEDURE: COMPLETE.

          > [Y/N] [Y/L/N].

          > WELCOME TO YOUR SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR.

          > YOUR SQUIP.

[nothingismorecontagious]

The Sound of Silence || Self

summary: jerome finds a listening device, planted by sofia, designed by his brother -- and he thinks it means imminent rescue. but jeremiah has other plans

trigger warnings: this is super fucked up and basically about a very weird kind of personal torture. blood, gore, vomit, and starvation play a huge role

featuring/mentions: @sofiastranges @jeremiahvalska

This cage didn’t scare him. It was a joke, an absolute riot – one that would never fail to amuse.

It was so different from Arkham though. For one thing, he was kept separate. Tucked away, like a secret, like something shameful. Maybe they were the ones scared. His memories of the asylum were twisted, fuzzy around the edges, but he remembered one thing very clearly.

He had ruled. King of Insanity, the one wearing the ring – kiss it or suffer the consequences. Pengy had learned that the hard way, and he wasn’t the only one. By his second stint, he had learned how to seize power and how to hold it, not to wait for someone like Theo Galavan to declare him the boss. To just be the boss. And his little lunatics, they had rallied around him. They laughed with him, they cheered when he performed his feats of magic – standing ovations every time. They loved him. They worshiped him, accepted his rule as divine right.

But it was difficult to rule when he kept so separate.

The first few nights he was there, five other men were in the same hall. They weren’t big talkers, but they didn’t have a choice but to listen to him. They would yell at him to shut up, they would groan when he giggled, they threw things around their cells. They kicked the walls. It was hysterical, even if he could only hear it.

And then, suddenly… it stopped.

One morning he woke up to nothing but silence. Complete, utter silence. No toilets flushing, no feet tapping or pages turning. Just a faint whistling sound of the wind whistling through the long, stone corridors. Even the usual guard, patrolling up and down, seemed to be absent.

Jerome slipped off the bed, and slung himself onto the bars of his door. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bacey!” he shouted, giggling so loudly it echoed around him. But there was no reply. The wind settled, and then all he could hear was his own breath.

Rikers was a strange sort of place, the outside, modern and neat, with shiny fresh bricks – he could see them through his small, barred window. Gleaming in the sunlight. But inside, the floors and walls were grey concrete, so dark and worn it was like living inside a cavern. There was so little color.

His sheets were white. As was the little ‘chair’ and ‘table’ – really, just two, white plastic rectangles with rounded edges that stuck out from the wall and couldn’t be moved. His bedframe was metal, bolted to the ground. His mattress was covered in plastic. There was a toilet. And a small shelf, made of the same material as the ‘table.’ For personal effects, he imagined. People could spend years in places like this after all.

But of course, he wouldn’t be here long enough for such things. He had found Jeremiah’s bug, the night after the little mouse’s visit. It must’ve been her who put it there, she had mentioned his sleep, she had her magic – the pieces weren’t hard to put together. Figuring out how her pieces connected to Jeremiah though… that was more difficult. But the message itself, that was clear enough. His brother would come for him. Maybe he was trying to make up for leaving all those years ago. It was a foolish thought, pointless – but Jerome couldn’t help but wonder.

He expected the silence to end by lunch. But lunch never came, and the silence never stopped. He could hear the seagulls outside, but they flew off when he screamed, or cawed over his giggling, they weren’t an audience. Soon they simply avoided flying near his window, especially as night fell.

Dinner was never delivered either. Jerome wondered if perhaps he was dreaming – they’d sedated him pretty heavily as they dragged him away from the little mouse. He remembered the sharp jab of the needle, the fire in his veins as the drugs coursed through. Maybe he was still asleep from that, only dreaming of being in this place. It was very much like one of his nightmares.

He lays down. Sings every song he knows, as loudly as he can. Until his throat is hoarse, voice raw – but still there’s no other sound. Irritated, he closes his eyes. It’s not until the sun wakes him that he realizes he could never have been dreaming. Because how could you fall asleep in a dream? That would be crazy.

The thought makes him laugh, but he stops halfway through. He glances at the floor by the door to his cell – it’s far past breakfast, but there’s no tray. His stomach growls, and he’s almost grateful. It’s a new sound. It’s something different. He’s so bored.

He hops to his feet suddenly, and flips his mattress. Jeremiah’s bug is still attached to his mattress – Jerome had slipped it back to avoid detection. But now he doesn’t care, now he just needs to talk to something. “Heya, brother,” he coos, stroking the device. He sets it gingerly on the table, tilts his head. It’s all foreign to him, wires and microchips and tiny, tiny parts. He can’t tell if it’s for listening or if it’s a camera as well. There’s only one part that matters though.

A red light blinks back at him. Which means he’s being recorded. Which means he’s being watched.

“This is a real funny joke you’re playing,” he whispers, eyes wide. He’s grinning, but the corner of his lips twitch. “But you know the secret to good comedy, Jeremiah?” He holds his fingers to his head in the shape of an imaginary gun. He waits a beat, and then pulls the ‘trigger.’ “Timing. Knowing when to let the audience laugh.”

No answer. Nothing. Silence.

Jerome sighs, drops his arm. “Great,” he snaps to the device. “Now I’m repeating myself. What a hack!” He giggles, and starts to pace, arms folded behind him. A strange blend of order and chaos, as dichotomous as Rikers itself. Like the duplicity of the place is starting to infect him, tear him in two. One half, his grinning, giggling, gleaming self. The Curse Upon Gotham. The one who gave nightmares.

And the other half stuck in one. The – thing the little mouse had described. The thing that slept. The thing that pulled away from anything warm and real, for fear it would be ripped away. The thing that knew what it was to be abandoned, forgotten, neglected. The thing he thought he had killed with his mother, with his uncle, with his brother’s transformation. The thing Sofia had pulled back into the daylight. The lonely thing.

Christ, he’s never been this alone before. The circus was always crawling with people, even in between shows. Snake charmers and belly dancers and clowns and acrobats – kids, and old, fat men, women with their teeth yellow and plastered with make-up, tits hanging out. There was no such thing as privacy, not when the tents outside were thicker than the walls of the caravan. In the circus, everyone heard when you talked, when you laughed, when you took a shit, when you fought, when you fucked the Grayson in the elephant’s hay. Or whoever.

“I slept with him, ya know!” Jerome yells, wheeling around on the device. He stomps right up to it, places his eye so close that all he can see is that little blinking light. But he swears he can see Jeremiah on the other side. He can almost see his look of disbelief, taste the rejection pouring off his brother. “Oh yes,” he whispers. “I never understood it – what you saw in him, what he saw in you, or why. Why people ever bother to get naked and rut against each other for ten, sweaty, boring minutes – but I did it. Because I knew you would never. I thought about slitting his throat afterwards. But let’s face it. You didn’t know how to take what you wanted, you were trying so hard to be good and liked and all it did was keep you trapped, you were the one in a jail!”

The scream echoes off the walls, and Jerome backs up, breathing heavy. His hands are shaking, and his legs are watery underneath him as he stumbles back. He practically falls onto the bed. Somehow, another day has gone by. Outside, there’s no moon. And the lights of the city don’t touch this place, but they still manage to block out the stars. He doesn’t know how that’s possible.

It’s dark.

And it’s quiet.

Jerome tries to sleep, but he twists and he turns. Eventually, he throws the mattress off the bed, starts ripping the sheets into strips just to hear something. He stuffs a piece in his mouth, but immediately spits it out. His mouth is too dry to keep it down, his throat raw. He screams anyway. He talks to his own echoing voice, tells himself jokes in the reverberation. But the timing is never right, the punchlines fall apart.

The next day is hot. The window may be small, but it lets in enough sun to heat the stone. Enough to suck the moisture from the air. He can’t speak, his throat is so dry. There’s no sink in his cell. But there is one source of water, and he drinks his fill, cupping his hands and splashing his face, bathing in it. After a moment, he doesn’t notice the smell or the taste. He doesn’t stop until his belly is swollen, full at last.

A chuckle, strained and hoarse, croaks from his throat. Jeremiah could never do this, he thinks, and for a second, the world is right again. “Really oughta get a plumber in here!” he murmurs to the device, grinning so wide the scars on his face ache.

The device just blinks back at him. The smile slowly slips off his face, replaced by a scowl.

The sun mercifully, eventually sets. Jeremiah can’t stop the sun. He can’t stop the moon. Jerome sings to them, makes a beat by drumming his hands so hard against the walls, the floor, the bars that he bruises. When it hurts too much, when his palms turn from yellow-green to purple and finally to bright, bursting red, he kicks. Until a crack shudders through him, and he has to hobble to where the mattress has fallen. Three toes, if he had to guess, but it’s awfully hard to count. He gets a different number every time, until he realizes – numbers are pointless.

There’s no way to count how many meals he’s had of only toilet water. The sun rises and falls too slowly – or maybe too quickly – for him to keep track. He tries digging a thumbnail into his arm each time he thinks another day has passed. But it’s too intoxicating, the act of doing something, anything, even mutilating himself. He does it for fun now, over and over, but it’s not enough. He slams his head against the wall, but that just makes him throw up the water in his stomach. He runs a finger through the slime, wet and sticky, but even that gets boring.

The only real thing he can watch is the device. The little red light never stops blinking. Not once. Like a never-ending Morse code message. He doesn’t know Morse code, but he knows what the message is.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

This is Jeremiah laughing at him. Huddled, bruised and bloody by his doing in the corner, face gaunt, shirt covered in sick. He’s looked worse of course, and he doesn’t care, but Jeremiah cares, Jeremiah thinks it proves something. But he’s wrong. It just makes him –

“Valeska! You’ve got a visitor!”

And just like that, the spell is broken. Jerome grins again, like he never stopped, and hops to his feet. He limps to the bars, sticks his hands out brightly as if they aren’t scabbed and bruised. “Let me guess,” he drawls, voice like a dead man’s. “Jeri.”

[faithbred-blog]

JEROME VELES ( CIS MALE & HE/HIM )? oh, aren’t they the FIFTY year old HUNTER ( VAMPIRE ) who works as the MANAGER at DÉGAGÉ? word on the streets is that they are FAITHFUL & INNOVATIVE, but they can also be ILL-TEMPERED & CALLOUS. by the way, they look eerily similar to KEANU REEVES, don’t they? ( admin karin / 20 / aest / she/fae )

FULL NAME: jerome veles. AGE: fifty. PRONOUNS / GENDER: he/him / cis male. SPECIES: vampire. jerome is only very recently turned, with not many knowing of his vampirism yet. formerly, he was a human of a hunter, and still does operate within the hunters. HOUSING: halkirk, in a two bedroom house with his daughter. FAMILY: his parents long gone and dead, the only family that jerome has now is his adoptive daughter meredith grant. she’s the daughter of a friend who passed away a while ago, and he had taken her in when she was thirteen. he adores her like a father would a daughter even if meredith only became his daughter in her later years.

BACKSTORY

his mother left when he was young. too young for jerome to even remember, even. said that she wasn’t ready to raise a son, that she wanted to do it the right way and get married before being a mother, and had upped and ran in the middle of the night, leaving jerome under the care of only his father. they didn’t talk about his mother.

heart attack tw / he was sixteen when his father died of a heart attack. the only parent jerome had ever known, gone. they weren’t thick as thieves, but he had loved his old man. losing him was a huge loss to jerome. only two years before he hit adulthood, his aunt and uncle had taken him in and provided the support he needed. they never became parent-like figures, but despite the loneliness he felt after his father was gone, jerome was grateful of them.

he had chosen to forge his own path when he entered adulthood. a year after high school and now in college, he rented a one bedroom apartment in the frenchtown quarters of town. over the years, he’d slowly move himself up.

almost in his thirties and struggling to make a steady income that could properly support him, jerome finally stumbled into an opportunity. he’d been acquainted with the now mrs. vanderbilt in his childhood, although they didn’t run in the same circle. the offer had came from her side of the family — the hunters side of it. they had notice of his affinity for defending himself, and had offered him money — good money — in exchange for becoming a hunter. 

he doesn’t hunt blindly. while he is wary of most supernatural creatures, the only ones he outright hunts are the ones he’s assigned to hunt. the ones that pay good money. his targets are usually big too, as he sees no point in hunting the lesser of the supernaturals. doing that won’t change anything.

death tw / eight years ago a long time friend of his died, leaving behind a thirteen year old girl called meredith grant. while jerome was never exactly her godfather, he had liked her, and her mother was one of the few real friends he had before she passed away. the girl grew up without a father, and a mother who died when she was still a teenager. it was almost a mirror image of what happened to him. not wanting her to grow up completely and utterly alone, jerome had taken her in. a favor to the girl’s mother, perhaps, since he’d been fond of her too.

adopting meredith drove him to further his hunting career. he needed that money more than ever now that he had a daughter. and he’s a good one at it too. he’s come across quite a few of fairview’s more popular supernaturals, either as a warning or as a failed attempt on their lives. jerome isn’t an infamous hunter the way jeremiah baines and his family are amongst the hunters’ community, but he does his job well when he needs to. ( sidenote: the fact that he’s a good hunter was also what led him to convince victoria vanderbilt to manage her restaurant. the pay wasn’t as good as he wanted it to, but he had managed to secure it in exchange to becoming a good hunter who was affiliated with her family, even if victoria herself wasn’t an active hunter. )

the two of them make do pretty well. jerome taught his daughter how to hunt and defend herself if it ever came down to it, and she was well aware of what he did for a living. she didn’t know the extents he would go to when he hunted, but after all, a daughter didn’t need to know that about her father.

and things went well. until recently, when jerome crossed paths with a vampire who had, in an attempt of revenge for hunting him, bitten jerome and left him almost for dead in the woods. and perhaps death would’ve been better too, for that bite had changed his life when he woke and realized what he is now. the very thing that he hates the most. out of all the supernaturals, jerome resents vampires and faeries most, because he views them as invulnerable creatures who can get away with any crime while still living a long life. the fact that they faced no consequences unless they were killed unnerved him, and they were the two creatures that he would stop at nothing to hunt when it calls for it. now? he was exactly the creature that he hated.

it’s only been a few weeks since jerome’s transformations, and he has managed to conceal himself pretty well. most older vampires in town could tell who he was from their honed enhanced senses, but jerome cuts back on the blood bags and still attempts to eat like a normal human would to hide his identity — especially from meredith.

PERSONALITY

no matter what people say about jerome, he is a passionate man. he’s passionate, he’s loving, and he’s very much driven by the loyalty he feels towards meredith. there are few that he lets in, but if he does let you in and cares about you, he is very much loyal.

jerome is as morally grey as they go. he’s the epitome of the ends justify the means.

he’s also very ill-tempered, and while he’s not a grim man who is always seen scowling or frowning, — he does offer smiles — most of degage’s employees know better than to set him off.

it may not seem like it at first glance, but he’s cunning. he has a very high sense of self-preservation and always had since he was a kid. jerome’s good at thinking things up on the spot and weaselling his ways out of terrible situations, although the means for doing so aren’t always so great.

he’s also deeply resentful. he’s quick to anger, but he’s not quick to forgive. if you’ve hurt him or the people who are close to him, the chances of him forgiving you is very low. after all, he still hates his sire with his entire heart and never will stop in all the immortal years to come.

at the end of the day, he’s on the verge of being a broken man. not that that excuses any of his actions, — because he often takes it too far — but he’s lonely and the only light in his life is meredith. his resentment doesn’t exclude the one he has towards himself too, and he feels like he hasn’t done enough for her and never will. but if it weren’t for her, he would’ve lost all his shreds of humanity and become the monster that he hates the most.

QUESTIONNAIRE

Does your character have any nicknames? a few close friends can probably get away with calling him jer, but that’s the only nickname he’s ever gone by.

Does your character have any distinguishing features such as tattoos, scars, piercings, etc? n/a.

What kind of things does your character like? What do they dislike? jerome’s fond of heights. while it’s a fear that many people have, he enjoys being on higher grounds and looking at the skyline and the city beneath him. it relaxes him.

Where does your character go when they are angry? he takes walks, or he goes up on the roof and stares at the skyline to calm himself down.

What is your character’s biggest fear? Who have they told this to? Who would they never tell this to? Why? there are many, but his ultimate biggest fear is being alone. other than hating vampires, it’s the biggest reason why he hates his vampirism. being immortal means having to watch people come and go, and he feels sick thinking about being alone after meredith finally grows old and dies. it’s not a fear that he shares, especially not know when there is so much at stakes and he’s an adult with many responsibilities, but it’s a fear that’s never gone away since the day his dad left him.

Does your character have a secret? If so, what is it? yes, his vampirism is currently a secret. not one that no one knows of, but it is something that he keeps concealed from most others.

Has your character ever been in love? Have they ever had a broken heart? he’s never been in love, but he thinks if meredith’s mother had stayed alive he might’ve fallen in love with her one day.

WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

sire. give me the person who turned him!!! jerome would’ve attacked them as soon as he realized that he was turned, probably almost killing them now that he had these newly acquired strength and speed that he didn’t know how to control in addition to his hunting abilities. the details of this can be ironed out when we plot it out, but i imagine jerome would have either very nearly killed them before they escaped or he thought they were dead but they didn’t die.

vampires. while it isn’t common knowledge that he’s been turned, i imagine that most vampires in town — especially the older ones — would be able to sniff out his vampirism due to their heightened senses. jerome takes care to not smell too much like blood, but it’d be interesting to have a few vampires knowing what he is now.

targets. he’s hunted supernaturals for over 20 years now. i’m sure he’s run into a lot of the supernaturals in fairview and has gotten into fights with them. whether or not he’s actively hunted them before, some supernaturals jerome just outright don’t like.

dark witch. obviously, he needed a daylight ring as soon as he was turned into a vampire. i’m open with two directions with this: a dark witch who had blackmailed him by giving him a daylight ring and promised to keep his secret as long as they do his binding ( or vice versa, him blackmailing them into it ), or a witch that he trusts with his secrets and is friends with.

[el-mayara]

Alex Danvers’ Pokemon Team

Blame @tiarawcman​ for this (but let’s be real I LOVE Pokemon and would have done this with or without Ben. Ahem. Under the cut for length.)

Teambuilder link here.

Arcanine: Growlithe was Alex’s starter Pokemon, gifted to her by her parents on her tenth birthday. She decided to evolve it after going to work for the DEO, thinking it would be more able to help her protect Kara that way. In spite of its now-large size, Arcanine still thinks it’s small enough to fit into Alex’s lap and sits on her frequently. Arcanine and Krypto get along REALLY well. It’s not aggressive in the least, not even in battles (it sees battling as fun), but whenever Max Lord, Sam Lane, or Mon-El are around, Arcanine will not stop growling and threatening to bite. (Alex always gives it a lot of tummy rubs for this.)

Lucario: J’onn gave Lucario to Alex when it was still a Riolu. Jeremiah actually found it while tracking J’onn and wanted to give it to Alex when he got home, and J’onn wanted to honor him after he died. (stolen from @randomthingsthatilike123​) Alex loves all of her Pokemon, of course, but Lucario has a special place in her heart because it was the last thing her father ever gave her. It also makes for an excellent sparring partner.

Jolteon: Jolteon is one of the strays that Alex has picked up over the years. She found it during her studies in Russia, rummaging through garbage cans for food behind an apartment complex. It was already evolved when they met, which made her think it must have a trainer somewhere, but after seeing it around several times Alex realized it must have either gotten lost or been abandoned. Not long after that, she stumbled upon it being attacked by a group of teenagers with mostly rock and steel-types and managed to chase them off. Jolteon later returned the favor when Alex was stumbling back to her flat drunk at 3 AM and got attacked by a would-be mugger, who then received a nasty Thunderbolt for his troubles. After that, it doesn’t leave her side.

Squirtle: The second of the strays, Alex finds Squirtle causing trouble down by the beachfront not long after she joins the DEO. It’s obviously not causing any serious harm to anyone, but it’s stealing food and scaring kids and sometimes goes into the water for the express purpose of biting people. Alex loses one of her knives to it and spends an hour chasing it all over the beach. During this, an alien attacks, and Squirtle is in the line of fire. Alex jumps in front of it to save it and gets hurt. The rest is history. (I took inspiration from the anime for this, as some of you may have noticed.) She doesn’t battle with it, as it’s pretty lazy, but it always comes along with her whenever she goes surfing or does any other kind of water-related activity. It also tries to out-eat Kara every time they’re together and fails. Miserably.

Gyrados: Alex meets Gyrados as a Magikarp when she goes exploring the beachfront and finds a stretch of sand with some tide pools. Magikarp was stuck in one of the shallow pools, flopping around and desperately trying to reach the water, and Alex realized it must have gotten caught there when the tide went out. She put it back in the water, expecting it to swim away, but it stayed and hung out with her while she surfed in the cove. When she decided to head home, it followed her. At first this was annoying, because Magikarp are pretty much useless, but then Alex remembered what Magikarp evolve into. Before it evolved she kept it in a Poke Ball because she didn't want it to get hurt, but afterwards she releases it back into the cove where they met because she feels bad keeping it cooped up all the time. Gyrados comes and goes as it pleases, but Alex goes down to that cove once or twice a month to hang out and play, and Gyrados is more than willing to come along for a battle if need be. 

Salamence: Salamence was actually given to Alex by, oddly enough, Astra In Ze. When Astra came to Alex’s apartment to tell her how to save Kara from the Black Mercy, she handed her an Ultra Ball and told her that Salamence was caught by herself and Non upon arriving to Earth but it wouldn’t listen to them, as it was not only extremely powerful but also extremely stubborn. Astra said it would take a truly brave and compassionate person to be able to win Salamence’s trust and respect, and that having it in battle would be an invaluable aid. This was when Alex started to get an inkling that maybe Astra’s heart wasn’t in her war anymore. After Astra’s death, the Ultra Ball sat untouched in Alex’s dresser for months, but when the Worldkillers began to emerge as a threat, Alex decided to try and tame it. It took a lot of patience and caution, and some help from J’onn, but Alex eventually managed to get Salamence to trust her just in time for the final showdown with Reign. Like Gyrados, Alex attempted to release it, but Salamence refuses to leave her. It still doesn’t trust people and gets very nervous around strangers, but it’s slowly getting used to Kara and the other people in Alex’s life. (Alex wishes she could show Astra.)