#just had to stand up between a 17 year old to defend her from a huge grown ass man who was threatening her like I was fucking shaking and th

[mrburnsnuclearpussy]

Dude I can’t even.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Smitten

I had this idea for a JayTim that I want to share. 

Obviously there is no canon here, for the record. 

In addition we have a version of Jack and Janet Drake that do love their son, they just have a really bad grasp on age appropriate supervision and activities. They honestly believe that a nine year old can be left alone with only a periodic check from a housekeeper (Also they are aware that Tim leaves the premises almost every night with a camera, they also believe this is a reasonable activity).  Like the very embodiment ‘they’re confused, but they got spirit’. Believe me when I say this will be relevant later.

We are also bringing Jason and Tim’s ages just a hair closer together. This starts with Jason being 14 and Tim being 13, at the annual holiday Wanye Gala. This particular time Jack, Janet, and Tim are in attendance. 

It starts with some boorish rich asshole, a little too drunk and being stupid about it, making an insulting comment about Janet Drake, heard by Tim. Now Tim loves his mother, and does not appreciate this man who insulted her. 

Thirteen year old Tim verbally eviscerates this man, his voice an icy even tone that everyone around recognized from Tim’s mother Janet. Tim’s diatribe of insults and threats leverages this man's secrets, his fears, and insecurities that he didn't even realize he had.  Ten minutes in, this man begins to cry. Just the complete, public, destruction of a middle aged rich drunk by a tiny thirteen year old.  The Drake family proceeds to exit after Tim winds down, never looking back (it was later in the evening anyway).

Jason, standing off to one side next to Dick, falls immediately and completely in love. Smitten through and through.  The first words out of his mouth, after the Drakes leave, is ‘We’re going to get married on that boy’s 18th birthday’.  This was heard by just about everyone present. Jason did not even know Tim’s name yet.

By the next morning Jason has used the BatComputer to discover that his future spouse is named Timothy Drake, he lives next door, and that he is 14 months younger than Jason.  At breakfast Jason very seriously, though a touch maniacally, tells Bruce that he would be marrying Tim when Tim turned 18, and that before that point they would be telling Tim about their ‘nightlife’ on the grounds that “we should not start our marriage off with secrets”. Jason magnanimously told Bruce that he had until Tim was 17 to get his feelings under control about the reveal (to give a full year before the wedding, in case Tim needed an adjustment period or Jason needed to win him back).  

Bruce is already very tired. 

Jason finds any occasion to seek out Tim Drake, to get to know his future spouse (the entire time Jason Mantra-having gotten some good advice from Alfred about becoming friends with and maybe dating Tim before anything else-is ‘Don’t start talking about the wedding, don’t start talking about the wedding’). Also every piece of romantic knowledge/flirting knowledge that Jason has comes from the regency era/Victorian era romances he reads. 

Tim, for his part, believes that Jason (Tim’s Robin and crush) has figured out that Tim knows Robin’s identity and is trying to subtly figure out how much Tim knows and what he is going to do about it; but for some reason Jason is not asking directly and Tim is enjoying getting closer to the other boy, so he does not admit to what he knows. 

This leads to some painfully stilted conversations and weird interactions, but every so often both will forget to be awkward and it becomes clear, whenever they actually act naturally, that they are very well matched. 

To the Gotham Elites, this is the best entertainment in years. Between Bruce Wayne’s ‘Brucie’ act and Dick’s feral behavior growing up, Jason’s bookish politeness makes him the ‘best behaved’ Wayne and honestly the most well liked one. Combined that with how sweet he is acting with Tim and  that this all started with Tim defending his mother, well this is the love story of the ages, happening right in front of them. 

Bruce and the Drakes are already fielding requests for invitations to the wedding. On a slightly more creepy note they are also receiving offers to be a surrogate for the boy’s to ‘continue the bloodline’ when the time comes. 

Bruce is honestly wondering if everyone forgot that Jason is adopted. Dick comes to Gotham more often, because he is also finding this immensely entertaining. 

A few months in, this leads to Batman, Nightwing, and Robin finding Tim taking pictures on a rooftop in the Bowery.  In Tim’s rush to apologize (he is starting to feel a bit guilty about his picture taking pictures of the Bats now that he has an actual relationship-where he believes that they know he knows who they are-instead of a parasocial relationship) it becomes clear that Tim knows their civilian identities and that they did not know that Tim knew their civilian identities. 

Tim gives his explanation (a quadruple flip that only a few people in the world can do and connecting the dots from there). Jason immediately blurts out ‘Go on a date with me?’ and is quite proud that he kept the ‘Marry me?’ behind his teeth (The earliest they could get married in New Jersey is 17, and only with parental consent. Jason had 4 years to convince the Drakes to let him marry their son, 5 if they don’t like him). Tim turns bright red and squeaks out a ‘Yes’. 

The next gala they enter holding hands.  Dick is quickly sought after by the Elite for gossip. Dick confirms that Tim and Jason are now dating, and that Jason insisted on a chaperone for their dates (Jason is still working off the regency/victorian era romantic relationships) so that nothing would ‘besmirch Tim’s honor’.  There is an entire crowd of cooing Gothamites around Dick as they discuss how these two got even more adorable, all the while watching Jason and Tim surreptitiously. 

At some point Bruce has to have a very surreal conversation with Jack and Janet Drake about when it is appropriate to leave one's children alone and for how long and at what ages. Jack and Janet, upon being convinced that they should not leave their 13 year old alone for weeks or months at a time, rearrange their future plans so that one of them is almost always home (and on the few occasions that they would have to Tim by himself, Tim would stay with the Waynes).

By the way, Jack and Janet love Jason, they can see how much he makes their son happy and are glad to support the relationship.  

Now I see this continuing one of two ways. 

The first way is that this derails Ethiopia. Jason still fights with Batman, but runs to Janet Drake (who is home) and Tim.  He does not discover that Catherine is not his mother until later, but is not missing parental influences and does some digging but does not go to meet Sheila. Tim becomes Oracle’s apprentice.

Alternately, it does not derail Ethiopia. Janet and Jack, on one of the few business trips that required both of them, is woken up by a call from an inconsolable Tim who tells them Jason has been killed by the Joker (both Jack and Janet having been let in on the secret at some point). Janet immediately hires Deathstroke and Talia Al Ghul to kill the Joker (Janet contemplated having them bring the Joker to her, so she could do it and make sure he understood why-he killed her future son in law and made her son cry- but realized that the why would never actually matter to Joker) and paid extra to make it look like natural causes (to lessen the attention on the bastard).  Two weeks after Jason Todd’s funeral, the Joker dropped dead of an apparent heart attack, there was not even enough time to get him back in Arkham. 

The Gotham Elite treat Tim like a bereaved widow, despite Jason never getting to have the ‘let’s get married when we are old enough’ talk with him. Jack Drake gets to have his own surreal talk with Bruce Wayne about accepting help, and therapy, after Jason’s death.  Tim picks up the Robin mantle to feel closer to Jason, and to distract himself from grief. 

Jason (Now 17) is brought back and Talia does find him. In this she does have good intentions (She knows that Damian is going to need to be sent to his father eventually, and hopes that helping Jason will endear Talia to Bruce enough that she can still see her son), plus a connection to Janet Drake and the knowledge that Janet had the Joker killed for Jason. So as soon as Jason’s madness ebbs enough to travel she brings him straight to Janet Drake's door. By then enough time has passed that it is three days before Tim’s 17th birthday.   

Jante takes one look at Jason and goes ‘Hmm, I was wondering what we were getting Tim for his birthday this year’.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hiii K, congrats on your 3.5k! That’s such an amazing milestone 🥳🤩 I’d like to send in the following prompt for John. 17. “How do babies get made.” I felt like this would go very well with John 🤭 Can’t wait to see with what you’ll come up with!

Hi Daisy @peakyltd !! Thanks so much for sending this in!! I was hoping that someone would choose John for this prompt because you’re sooo right - it fits him perfectly!!! I hope you like what I did with this! Also a special thanks to @raincoffeeandfandoms for letting me use the ‘little chimney man’ who brings babies…you’ve helped (Y/N) immensely here! Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Part of my 3.5k celebration — find more stories here!

That’s Not What Dad Said

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: awkward talk about babies being born, a playful smack with a newspaper

Word Count: 677

Summary: (Y/N) gets a surprise when she and John’s oldest child asks a rather interesting question out of the blue.

The question that six year old James Shelby asked just about made (Y/N) spit the tea she was drinking right back into its cup. “Can you repeat that again, dear?” she prompted the child, silently hoping that she didn’t hear him correctly.

“How do babies get made?” the boy repeated his question. It was the exact question (Y/N) had heard. Word for word.

“Umm, well…” she trailed off, taking a few moments to try and think of how she’d tackle this. The boy was six…he didn’t need to know about the actual process that occurred. “So when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much, they have a talk, and in that talk, they decide that they want to have a baby. Then, there’s a man who comes down the chimney after hearing the talk and puts the baby in the mummy’s tummy. In nine months, the baby is born, and that’s how babies are made,” she finished her extravagent story with the exhale of a breath and an unsteady smile, hoping that it worked.

James looked at his mother, not saying anything for a few moments. “That’s not what dad said,” was what he finally said in response.

His statement immediately confused (Y/N). “Wha—what do you mean?” she rushed to ask, her eyes shifting between her son and her husband, who was still reading the newspaper and drinking tea; completely unbothered.

“Dad and uncle Arthur were talking yesterday and uncle Arthur was telling him about a lady he was with and I asked dad what he meant and he said that it’s how babies get ma…”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough. Why don’t you go and get ready for school, hmm?” (Y/N) cut the boy off, already having an idea of where the rest of his statement was going. Her insides were doing flips just thinking about her husband and his brother talking about stuff like that in James’ presence.

“Ok,” James nodded, hopping off of the chair without a second thought. (Y/N) was thankful he didn’t question it and did what she asked. He ran off then, leaving (Y/N) and John alone in the kitchen.

(Y/N) looked over at John, seeing him glance over at her while holding the cup up to his lips. He tried to be nonchalant and revert his eyes to the newspaper, but (Y/N) caught his gaze. “Would you like to tell me why you and Arthur were talking about those types of things with your boy in the room?” she asked him, her eyebrows raising as she spoke.

“We didn’t think he was listenin’ to us,” John tried to defend himself, setting the cup down so that he could look at her.

“He’s six, John. He listens to everything…and then he only remembers the things he isn’t supposed to,” she countered, her frustration shining through her words.

“It was a mistake, love. It won’t happen again,” he assured her, surrendering the argument because it was one he knew he couldn’t win.

“It better not,” (Y/N) emphasized, standing up from her chair to collect the empty dishes from the table. She walked them over to the sink, sitting them in it so that she could do the washing. Before getting to it, she walked back to where John was sitting with the newspaper in his hands. “Let me see that,” she said to him as she stopped at his side, motioning to the paper he was holding.

“Here,” he said, handing the paper over without second thought.

(Y/N) didn’t waste any time. She rolled the paper up and used it to lightly smack John on the back of the head, the sound of the whack from it filling the room.

“Oww!” he exclaimed, turning to look at her with wide eyes as he rubbed the back of his head.

A grin spread across (Y/N)’s face as she locked eyes with her husband. “I meant what I said,” she said then, seriousness present in her voice.

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @shelbydelrey @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut @zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx @areyenotfondofmelobster @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra @kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @kissforvoid @raincoffeeandfandoms @peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite @jessimay89 @slaymybreathaway

MASTERLIST

[mrchiipchrome]

Knight In Shining Armor

W.C.- 800

Request- 'the reader is an introvert and not a hugging person. so, during camp w the lionesses, some players tease reader about it because the reader w Lessi is the opposite. Gf Lessi being protective of the reader?'

--------

Growing up as introverted as you did had been a challenge for sure, never really being able to open up to people making you feel left out most of the time. Maybe that’s why your parents made sure to put you to training in a teamsport as soon as they possibly could.

Still, you had major problems with getting and keeping friends, well until Alessia came along. 

The young blonde, then brunette, had defended you against some particularly nasty young girls at Charlton. They had pushed you over without any reason, making your newly washed kit all muddy again.

Then like a knight in shining armor, the short girl came over and stood right in front of you, so as to protect you from their nasty words and actions. 

With miraculous strength for a 6 year old, Alessia made sure that the two girls never bothered you again.

Ever since that day, your young heart only beat for her. There was nothing and no one that could come between your unbreakable bond, and with you in the midfield and Alessia up top, there was no better scoring duo than you two.

And at 7, you and Alessia got “married” after football with the trainer officiating. At 10, you and Alessia departed your childhood club in search of something bigger. At 11, you signed for the Arsenal youth academy and Alessia signed for the rival London club.

At 13, you transferred schools to be closer to one of your only friends and at 14, you confessed your obvious feelings for the other, sharing secret kisses between classes. 

At 16, you finally told your families about your relationship, your families who’d always known you’d end up with the other.

At 17, you signed your first pro contract with Arsenal while Alessia got offers to play at UNC. At 18, your heart broke for the first time as you knew how hard it would be to do long distance. At 19, you cried yourself to sleep every night because you were missing your soulmate.

At 21, Alessia returned to England and your introverted heart burst with happiness at your person being back in the same country as you. 

And when you won the euros alongside your love, you realized what a gift it was to have someone like her. Your very own knight in shining armor.

Even after becoming slightly less closed off to the world, there was still one thing you truly couldn’t stand, physical touch.

Whenever someone, excluding Alessia, touched you it felt like your skin was crawling and the feeling always brought tears to the corners of your eyes. 

It was the only non-negotiable thing, no touch. And Alessia had always been like a hawk, making sure to not let anyone touch you longer than deemed necessary.

So, when you once again arrive at camp basically attached to your girlfriend, it doesn’t take long for the other girls to start to tease you.

—-

“Hey Y/n/n, why don’t I get hugs like that?” You hear the unmistakable sound of Lucy Bronze’s voice echo through the lobby. The shell shocked expression on your face only makes Alessia tighten her grip around your waist, nearly putting herself in front of you in a protective stance.

“Yeah Y/n, I also want a nice long hug sometimes, maybe a kiss on the head” Georgia’s next as she sends you a quick wink to accompany her statement. The possessive growl Alessia lets escape her throat might be one of the hottest things you’d ever experienced.

“Come on Y/n, just give me a little hug, it would be nice!” Mary’s loud voice carries all through the lobby as she walks towards you with her arms fully open. 

That’s where Alessia’s had enough, her protective nature coming through in the most noticeable way possible. She moves her body fully in front of you, mostly blocking the three women's view of you as she holds her hand out to stop Mary from moving any closer to you.

“Right, that’s enough. Once is fine, but the two of you continuing when she’s obviously uncomfortable is just going too far. If she wants to give you a hug, then she’ll do it in her own time, are we clear?” Alessia’s booming voice is heard all throughout the lobby, and the three women in front of you nod their heads rapidly in agreement.

With a satisfied smile painting over her face, Alessia moves back to your side, hugging you protectively before leaning up and capturing your lips in a possessive kiss.

For good measure, as Alessia’s leading you towards the elevator, she turns back to the three women still standing in the same place as where she left them and winks. 

Yeah, Alessia was your knight in shining armor.

[cinnamongorll]

a fragile line - chapter 17

read on ao3! (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 5k

Chapter 17: 'Nothing Fucks With My Baby (NFWMB)'

The following afternoon, approaching Juliet’s old community. 

Joel's POV:

Joel was familiar with the spark of awareness that spread across his skin when a gun was trained on him. The burning feeling that flashed down his arms, the tightening of his muscles, the ire that wrapped around his heart, squeezing tight. Joel welcomed that feeling; he craved it sometimes. The adrenaline that shot through his bloodstream, sharpening his mind, strengthening his body, and then he would move: disabling those who shot at him, or shooting back. Whether it was the sick crunch of their necks, at the cold mercy of his arms, or a bullet through their skulls, Joel would do the job. He would stand over his latest killing, breathing heavy, as he relished in the stillness of their chests and the knowledge that he would live another day. 

Joel was never afraid of staring down the barrel of another’s gun, not until Juliet. 

Four men stood before them, each holding up a shotgun. They were quick, quicker than Joel had expected when he noticed the watchtower over the edge of the fence. Seconds later, they had opened the gate and circled Joel and Juliet like wild cattle. Joel had grabbed Juliet’s arm and pulled her behind him, his gut twisting when he couldn’t protect her from every angle the men had positioned themselves in. The adrenaline had started to pound through his body, the roar of blood rusher in his ears as his fingers pressed deeper into Juliet’s arm. Her head whipped around them, the loose waves of her dark hair smacked against the arm of his jacket. Joel knew he had to do something, had to think of some way to defend her, to keep her safe. But they were out of ammo and outnumbered. With Juliet’s body pressed against his, his usual confidence was gone, fear was now his most prominent emotion. 

“Don’t move!” one of the men shouted, he was tall with ginger hair, almost covered by the dark hood he wore. 

Joel had to say something, explain that they didn’t want any trouble, that this was some misunderstanding. He had assumed they would recognise Juliet but the men in front of him only had a cold hunger in their eyes. For more than just their blood, Joel thought, going by the frailness of their bodies. 

“Stop!” a voice cried out, “It’s me, It’s Juliet!”

Joel’s head turned to the woman pressed against his back. All four of the men froze, their creeping movements forward paused as their eyes scanned Juliet’s body from head to toe. Seconds later, recognition flared in their eyes. 

“Juliet?” the ginger one gasped out, his eyebrows pinched together as his hands unconsciously began to lower his shotgun. The other men followed his actions, peering closer at Juliet. 

She pulled away from Joel, putting at least a foot between them. That sick feeling in his gut worsened, he wanted desperately to pull her back against him, to wrap her in his arms, throw her over his shoulder and get the hell out of here. For what was supposed to be a homecoming for Juliet, she looked undeniably terrified. But she was still the woman he knew, so Juliet straightened her back, wiped her expression of any fear and transformed her mouth into a relieved smile.

“Thank god we made it,” she gasped, her voice pitched higher than usual. “Thought we’d be in that forest forever,” Juliet continued, laughing as she spoke.

Juliet had this unique ability to camouflage herself. He hadn’t noticed it back in the QZ, when he would watch her from a distance throughout their shifts together, listening to the conversations she had with other workers. But journeying across the country together, just the two of them… Joel had a front row seat to the several masks Juliet carried with her. When they had run into those men in the supermarket: she became this ruthless killer, practically begging to kill the men who had kidnapped that girl. Back at the gas station, Joel blinked and Juliet had become Blake’s loyal servant, giggling and fluttering her eyelashes. 

And the night before, when he had her pressed against that tree, watching as the cruel motions of pain, regret and terror had rippled in her eyes… Joel watched as Juliet lied to his face. 

She had promised him that this place was safe, ‘the safest place for her,’ she had said. But Joel had watched that mask fall over her features, he had watched the sparkling light go out in her eyes as her voice numbly uttered those words. 

“Fuck , Juliet,” one of the other men drawled, shaking Joel from his thoughts. “Thought you were dead,” he said, shock flickered across his face as he, too, lowered his shotgun.

Joel stiffened, more pieces added to the never ending puzzle of Juliet’s life. 

Juliet shrugged and raised her arms, a picture of cool indifference. “Guess not,” she replied with a small smile, then her eyes quickly lifted to Joel’s face.

Joel’s eyes bore into her, she blinked and looked away.

The men dotted around them were shocked, not by her words, but by her attitude. Their eyes slowly trailed down her body to her hands now perched on her hips. When their gazes eventually made their way back up to her face, the men’s eyes had an appreciative glaze coating them, like they were looking at something appetising.

Joel wanted to rip their eyes from their skulls. 

Juliet shifted under their intense stare, moving her arms across her chest. “My father’s expecting me,” she announced, lifting her chin. 

At the mention of her father, the men stood up straighter, like a barrel of water had been tossed over their heads. They glanced at each other, a couple of them nodding towards the fence, passing an excruciatingly silent conversation between them. Joel’s hand curled with unrestrained rage. When he didn’t know what was happening, when he didn’t know how to protect Juliet, Joel always turned to anger. 

Joel stepped closer to Juliet, his hand hovering over her shoulder. It looked like he was claiming her, asserting some connection to her. 

The men noticed his movement, and the scowl that covered his mouth. The ginger one nodded down to Juliet. “Who’s this guy?” he asked, as if he had only now noticed him next to her. 

Before Joel could answer, Juliet fortified her masked expression then pointed her thumb towards Joel.

“Oh, this is Joel,” she answered, “he got me here in one piece in exchange for some supplies.”

The men looked at each other, their eyebrows raised. 

“That right?” the ginger one questioned. 

“That’s right,” Juliet said, stepping closer to the hooded man. Joel had to fight his arm to not grab hold of her and drag her back to him. 

“I know my father would do anything for my safe return, so you will get this man whatever he would like,” she ordered, tilting her head to the side with a cunning smile.

The ginger one swallowed and stepped back again, nodding to the men on his right. Joel followed his gaze as two of them headed back to the fence.

“Alright,” he agreed. “But we gotta search you first, no weapons inside the fence.”

Joel had expected this, he was out of ammo anyway, but he wasn’t about to lose his knife. Juliet had assured him this place was safe, that she would be safe here, but he’d yet to see any proof. He eyed her, waiting to see how she would react to the man’s orders. Joel was following Juliet’s lead here. 

She turned her head towards Joel, titling her chin down in a firm nod while avoiding his eyes. Joel swallowed, clenching his teeth, as he pulled his backpack off his shoulder and started to pull out his weapons. One of the men came to stand before him, his hand outstretched expectantly. 

Joel pushed his gun into the man’s hand, then dropped his bag to the ground to be searched. 

When he turned towards Juliet, he almost lost it.

She stood tall with her arms above her head as the ginger one patted her down, his hands roaming down to her waist. Every muscle in Joel’s body locked up and he had to force himself to not pull his knife out. When his hands began to roam down her legs, Joel had had enough.

“Watch it,” Joel growled, his voice lethal. The man’s movements halted before he reached Juliet’s ankle. His hands left her body and he turned towards Joel, ready to give him an earful about the rules of the community, but his smug smile disappeared the second he met the fury burning in Joel’s eyes. 

The man straightened, picked up his gun from the ground, and took two steps back from Juliet. 

Joel didn’t break his stare, even as the other man began to pat him down. Their technique was severely lacking because he clearly missed the knife in his inside pocket. When he was done, he turned back to the ginger one and nodded. “They’re good.”

The ginger one turned his body towards the fence, then nodded back at the other man. “Let’s get them to Elijah,” he said.

His words made Joel stiffen, there was something menacing about their tone. Nothing about this felt right, nothing about this whole situation felt like a daughter returning home to her loving father. Elijah’s name fell from the man’s lips like a warning. Joel was growing uneasy. 

Juliet had started to move forward, slowly following the men towards the fence. Her footsteps were stilted, her posture tight. 

When she realised Joel wasn’t following, she turned towards him and pulled her lifeless gaze up to meet his intense stare. Behind his dark eyes, Joel’s mind was buzzing with indecision. He could take her away from here; he was coming to realise that he would go anywhere, take her anywhere, as long as she could be by his side. But that wasn’t his decision to make, and they had a deal. He curled his hands into fists as his jaw tightened. 

Juliet’s eyebrows furrowed, her mouth opening and closing as she considered what to say. Then she swallowed and shook her head, the movement subtle. “It’ll be okay,” she said with a small smile which didn’t reach her eyes. Her voice was almost a whisper but her words screamed in Joel's ears, raising the hairs on his arms, tightening his already tense jaw. 

Joel moved forward, his hand outstretched. He didn’t know what he was going to do but his heart was crying out for him to grab hold of her arm, pull her back to his side and run.

The fence ahead of them could have been the fiery gates of hell from Juliet’s haunted expression. 

But just as his feet began to creep towards her, a voice called out.

“Come on!” the ginger one shouted, standing beside the other man at the open gate. His words made Juliet jump and her eyes pulled away from Joel’s. Joel had stopped moving, now standing still beside her. He looked down at Juliet, searching her face for a hint of indecision, for a sign that she was unhappy with her choice to return home. He wouldn’t take her unwillingly, but with one desperate word from her lips, he would steer her away from his place. 

She said nothing more. Joel watched as Juliet straightened, running her trembling hands over the straps of her backpack, and started walking towards the fence, quicker this time. Her feet moved with a new, desperate urgency. 

That feeling in Joel’s gut was almost unbearable, it felt like a combination of every time he was forced to watch tears fill Juliet’s eyes, when he had to see her in pain. Joel followed her retreating steps, then he began to move quicker, hastening his stride to catch up with her. 

He would follow her anywhere, even for the last time. 

…………………………………………………………………………….

Juliet’s community was a ghost town.

As they walked down the street, flanked by the two men, Joel could only hear the sounds of their footsteps hitting the cracked concrete. Every house they passed was silent, there was no sound of laughter, no conversations drifting in the wind. Joel would have thought they were empty, if he hadn’t noticed the occasional twitch at a curtain. When his eyes would follow the movement, the curtain immediately fell. These people were scared. Of him? Or was it something else? Someone else? 

He glanced at Juliet as they walked side by side, his gaze drifted over her face, searching for any hint that she, too, was shocked by the town’s emptiness. He found nothing in her expression, her face was tight as she stared ahead. She didn’t look around, didn’t move her head at all. Her steps even unconsciously moved around the larger cracks in the road.

Juliet knew exactly where she was, and exactly where she was headed. 

With every step, Joel’s hands clenched tighter into fists, his knuckles growing a stark white against his tanned skin. His anger was simmering on his skin, waiting for something to happen, waiting for an opportunity to release the fear that boiled inside him.

He was getting really sick of the two idiots beside them. They weren’t prisoners, this was Juliet’s home, they didn’t need escorts. 

Another five minutes passed as they made their way through the haunted streets. Joel noticed that Juliet’s steps began to slow. Her gaze was still locked in front of her, but her body had visibly tensed. Joel’s head turned, searching for a threat as he moved closer to Juliet. Seconds later, the loud screech of a rusted hinge cut through the eerie silence as a door swung open. Joel’s eyes followed Juliet’s wide stare to the house at the end of the street. 

An older man stepped through the front door, the wood was cracked and the remaining blue paint was almost completely faded. He was followed close behind by the other two men they had met at the fence. Joel watched as Juliet’s entire body flinched.

When they reached the house, they stopped. Joel and Juliet were now surrounded by the four men and the new figure who had begun to stride down the porch steps to greet them.

The first thing Joel noticed was his stare. His eyes ran over Joel, a flicker of confusion darting across his face before his piercing gaze landed on Juliet. The man didn’t appear surprised to see her, instead, for a brief moment, he almost looked enraged, like the sight of her had triggered some habitual response. It was gone as quick as it appeared, and the older man’s features morphed into a combination of relief, shock, and delight. His eyes lit up as he scanned Juliet from head to toe. 

“Juliet, you’ve returned!” he choked out, before striding down the remaining steps and heading towards her. His arms were outstretched, ready to wrap around her. 

When he was just a few steps away, Joel moved, stepping in front of Juliet. The man, Elijah, Joel presumed, staggered to a stop. Joel hadn’t meant to interrupt this reunion but every protective instinct he had for Juliet kicked into gear. His thoughts had faded to a dull murmur in his head, Joel’s every action was driven by pure instinct, that gut feeling had forced his feet to move, to shield Juliet. Still, a distant part of his brain wondered why he felt this way? Why was he so determined to protect Juliet? Why was it so hard to let go?

Joel buried that thought deep in his head, and shifted his stance, ready to face whatever Elijah would send his way. He couldn’t think about why, all he knew was that Juliet was under his protection right up until the last second of their time together. And this man didn’t look unwell, didn’t look like he was at all close to death as Juliet had made him out to be. Her story was unravelling with every second they spent in this town. 

Elijah’s eyes trailed over Joel, raising his head to scan Joel’s fierce expression, and tilting his chin to examine him right down to his worn boots. Joel didn’t flinch, he returned an equally weighted stare, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes dark. 

Juliet was strangely silent, she made no move to step around Joel or greet her dad. Joel was right: something was really off about this. Before Joel could turn to her, to assess her expression and try to form some kind of plan in his head, Elijah broke the tense silence.

“Julietttt,” he called, in an almost musical tone, tilting his head to see beyond Joel’s hulking form. “Who is this?” Elijah asked softly, moving his hands behind his back in a stance of pure apathy. His men had begun to move closer, Joel noticed their hands twitching towards the guns hanging from their shoulders. Their eyes kept darting to Elijah like they were waiting for some signal. Joel only had his knife and he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could go against four young men with a shotgun each, and whatever Elijah had on him. Joel had to be smart about this.

But Joel didn’t get a chance to think, to plan, because a second later, Juliet stepped out from behind him and walked straight up to her father. She looked confident, happy even to see her father after such a long time, a quiet smile had graced her mouth. But Joel saw the slight falter in her steps and the tremble of her fingers as she wrapped them around the straps on her shoulders. 

“Joel got me here, I’ve promised him weapons, food and a vehicle for my safe return,” Juliet said, her voice clear and authoritative. “I told him about your generosity, father, I hope this is alright?” she added, a slight quiver forming in her words. 

If Elijah was surprised at all, or angered by her request, he didn’t show it. Instead, a smile overtook his mouth and he nodded firmly. “Of course!” he declared, and turned to face Joel. His grin didn’t falter as his pale eyes met Joel’s dark gaze. “Thank you, Joel, for returning my daughter to me,” he said, but the smile that marked his face didn’t reach his cold eyes. 

Joel tried to catch Juliet’s eye but it was obvious her mind was far beyond his reach. Her eyes were vacant, another mask had veiled her true feelings. Or maybe this was her true reaction, maybe there really wasn’t anything to fear. Joel had judged the community by its barren appearance, but it didn’t look dangerous, there were no outward threats that he could find, just a lingering feeling of dread.  

Joel nodded, and clenched his teeth so hard he thought he’d chip a tooth as he watched Elijah step forward and wrap his arms around Juliet. At first, Juliet’s entire body froze but, after a second, her arms reached up, returning the embrace. Joel had to look away. 

When they pulled away from each other, Joel noticed that Elijah kept a firm grip on Juliet’s arm. 

“James, Sean, take Joel to the armoury and let him take his pick. We have more than enough to spare,” Elijah ordered, turning to two of the men. They looked pissed.

“You can stay here tonight, if you wish, we wouldn’t send a fellow survivor out into the dark,” Elijah added, with a laugh. “There is a room above the bar, James and Sean will show you.” 

Joel hadn’t even noticed the night approaching, he was too preoccupied with watching every flicker of emotion that crossed Juliet’s face. Juliet was staring at him now, waiting to see what his answer would be. Joel’s eyes drifted down to Elijah’s fingers circling her wrist, his firm grip tightened when he noticed Joel’s attention. 

That simmer of rage began to burn, there was an inferno swirling within him now, desperate for an outlet. But he had no right, there was no concrete proof that this place was unsafe. It was creepy, yes, but Juliet had given him no indication that she needed saving. Joel would respect that, but he still searched her eyes, looking for a hint of fear behind the vacant mask she wore. 

Joel realised they were waiting on his answer and he nodded, his chin dipping in one hard movement. He would stick around tonight, make sure he could stomach leaving her here. 

“Fantastic,” Elijah said, his smile subtly shifting to a grimace as he turned to Juliet. “Shall we, my sweet Juliet,” he drawled, moving to tug her towards the house. At the sound of his endearment towards her, Juliet‘s whole body flinched. She looked like she had been slapped across the face. For one brief moment, her mask slipped, and Joel saw a spark of terror in her eyes.

“Stop,” Joel called, his eyes didn’t leave Juliet. 

“Yes?” Elijah asked, turning back towards him, one eyebrow raised. 

Joel ground his jaw, hard. “I wanna say goodbye,” he answered, his voice like steel as he tilted his head towards Juliet. 

The look in Elijah’s eyes was murderous, but his grin didn’t falter. He shrugged and released his grip on Juliet's arm, one tight finger at a time. Joel finally allowed himself to take a deep breath. 

Juliet walked over to him, her steps were slow. When she reached him, Joel titled his head down towards her, his eyes scanning her face. After a moment, he saw something thaw in her cool stare. Joel could feel Elijah’s eyes on them, so he kept his voice low. “Thought you said your dad was sick?” he asked quietly. 

Juliet bit her lip. The movement startled Joel, his gaze flickered down to her mouth, then back up to the deep brown of her eyes. “He is,” Juliet insisted as she shifted on her feet, then crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Just say the word and we can go,” Joel stated, his words barely legible as he struggled to keep his voice low and his rage contained. Juliet looked shocked, her eyebrows pinched together as he stared up at him. “I -” she started, then stopped herself and turned to glance at her dad. When her gaze returned to Joel, she swallowed and shifted her arms, tightening her hold on herself. “Thank you, Joel. For everything,” she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, her eyes had turned glossy. “I’m home now… go find your brother,” Juliet murmured with the gentle curve of a smile, then uncrossed her arms and reached her hand down to Joel’s. Her small hand slid over his rough fingers and squeezed… then she was gone. 

Before Joel could even blink, Juliet had slipped away, her quick steps striding back over to Elijah. Joel could still feel the heat from her touch on his skin as he watched Elijah grip her shoulder and lead her up the steps towards the large house. The wood had rotted in multiple places and some windows were entirely frosted. It took every ounce of his control to not follow her, not run after them and rip her from her father’s grip. Joel resisted every primal instinct screaming within him. 

“Let’s go,” one of the men, James or Sean, said to him as they walked past Joel’s frozen form. “Armoury’s this way.”

Joel felt himself nod, but he couldn’t look away from that house. The rage trapped inside him had transformed into ice. Glacial shock now flowed through him, stiffening his muscles, piercing his heart. 

“Now or never,” the voice called again, shaking Joel from his trance. He turned, finally pulling his eyes away from the old house. He rubbed a hand over his jaw and nodded at the men.

As they made their way down the darkening street, leaves crunching underfoot, Joel couldn’t help but feel that he was walking away from a part of himself he hadn’t even realised still existed after so many years surviving in the wasteland of this world. 

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

About an hour later, after they showed Joel his gifted supplies (which he would collect in the morning), James and Sean led Joel to the town’s ‘bar’.

Joel didn’t agree with that term.

What he stepped into was the renovated bottom floor of a decrepit building which appeared to be the remains of an old store. It was dull, the only light came from hanging bulbs in a few areas of the room. The back wall was shelved with rows and rows of bottles of varying size and colour behind a long counter and mismatched stools. The rest of the room was filled with an odd mix of tables and chairs. Joel was surprised to see most of them filled. This was where everyone was, apparently. 

Eyes followed him as he walked through the room, towards the man tending the bar at the back wall. Voices hushed and fingers pointed, but Joel ignored it all. Once he was seated on one of the stools, his near empty backpack on the floor, Joel leaned forward and dropped his head into his hands. The murmurs had picked up again and Joel allowed the noise to drown out the screaming thoughts inside his head. When the bartender approached, Joel ordered a whiskey with the intention of numbing that twisting feeling in his chest. 

The bartender eyed him with confusion but Joel wasn’t going to explain his presence, let them all be wary of him, he thought. Joel was afraid he would start punching if someone got too close to him right now, if someone tried to ask him why he was here. 

A glass of whiskey was slid over to him and Joel downed it in seconds, his head tilted back as the cold glass grazed his lips and the hot burning liquid poured down his throat. 

The glass hit the table with a thud when he brought it back down, his hand gripped it tight. Joel was tempted to see how much force he could apply before it began to shatter. He would welcome the pain, he craved a distraction from the turmoil raging inside him. 

Joel contemplated a second drink, maybe if he kept drinking it would keep him from stalking over to Juliet’s house and throwing her over his shoulder. 

Just as he began to gesture towards the bartender, the man’s face dropped in shock. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened as he stared over Joel’s shoulder. Joel raised his eyebrows, and moved to turn, searching for whatever had spooked him. 

At that moment, Joel noticed a man striding towards him, pushing his way through the many patrons. He was young, probably around Juliet’s age, his hair was slicked back behind his ears and murder danced in his eyes. Joel stood, bracing himself as the young man marched straight for him. 

“This him?” the man barked towards the bartender, as he continued to eye Joel. The bartender stood with wide eyes, but he managed a nod in response. Joel’s eyes flickered between the both of them as he shifted his stance, subtly moving his feet into a fighting position while the young man took those last few steps towards him. A second later, the younger man threw himself at Joel, gripping his shoulder with one hand and pulling the other back to land a punch. He didn’t succeed, Joel growled and caught the man’s hand in his fist, twisting it at an unnatural angle and pulling it behind him. Before the man could retaliate, Joel had both of his hands pinned behind his back and he pulled him against his chest. Joel was breathing heavy as the man continued to struggle in his grip, he was no match for the strength Joel possessed. 

Some men in the bar had stood up, their chairs scraping against the floor while they watched, but no one moved to help. At once, murmurs started to travel through the bar as the men pointed, not towards Joel this time, but towards the man restrained against him. 

“You’ve killed her,” the man in his arms began to hiss. “You fucker, you’ve killed her.”  

Whatever buzz the whiskey had given Joel was completely gone. 

The bartender finally awoke from whatever shocked daze he was held in and he caught Joel’s eye. “Bring him this way,” he instructed, moving towards a door along the side of the back wall. 

Joel snarled and gripped the man tighter, ignoring the words he gasped out, and pulled him through the door after the bartender. 

When they entered the backroom, the bartender pulled the man free from Joel’s grip and pinned him against the wall. Joel staggered back, gasping out a ragged breath. “The hell you talkin’ about?” he demanded, facing the young man now held against the wall.  

“Juliet,” the young man gasped. “You’ve killed her.” 

Joel swore he saw red flash across his vision. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife as he stalked closer to the man. He had stopped struggling, falling limp in the bartender’s grip. As Joel got a better look at him, he finally noticed his appearance. The man’s face was gaunt, purple circles darkened the skin under his eyes, and his hair hung limp over his face, the greasy strands no longer tucked behind his ears. 

“If you don’t start explainin’ right fucking now, this is goin’ in your throat,” Joel growled, lifting his knife to make his point. The man pressed himself harder against the wall behind him and swallowed rough. 

“Who the hell are you?” Joel demanded when the man didn’t instantly answer, his voice low and steady as he ran his thumb over the knife’s edge. 

The man stared back, his eyes burned with a terror similar to what was churning inside Joel.

“I’m Ethan,” he croaked out, then squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath, before opening his eyes back into Joel’s dark gaze. “Juliet’s boyfriend.” 

Joel’s entire body tensed, he almost dropped the knife in his hand. But Ethan wasn’t finished, he inhaled another breath, licked his lips, then swallowed again. 

“And you’ve signed her death sentence bringing her back here,” he spat, venom dripping from his words.

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

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

[evansbby]

I was there too with my older brothers and cousins, it warmed my heart seeing so many people in support of Palestine. I also saw a lot of Jews there and I think people forget that there’s a difference between a zionist and a Jew. As a Palestinian muslim woman myself I spoke to a few of them and they explained that they do not support the actions of Israel and that it’s against their religion. When I was younger I was always mad at the ‘jews’ for taking over my country and that I got called a terrorist and they didn’t when they clearly killed many innocent lives. I also tried to talk to Israeli people but when I told them everything Israel did to Palestine and how it was wrong they would call me antisemitic and get mad. I was like 16/17 when I finally realized that I should leave the faith of Palestine in Allahs hands and not get kind of mad when people tell me they’re jewish, because I always thought that automatically meant that they were zionists😭 I always felt this survivors guilt, I was born in Palestine but my parents moved us to London when I was 2, but I still have some family there and it’s awful for them. Like why do I get to live in a safe environment when they can’t? I’m 20 years old now and my cousin had it way harder growing up than I did, thankfully she also made it out, but I just feel bad when she talks about her childhood knowing that I didn’t have to worry if there would be Israeli soldiers outside on my streets. I’ve seen pictures of our neighborhood before it got destroyed and it was so beautiful, my grandma would tell me stories about how she and my grandpa would walk to the markets and now it’s all gone. Alhamdulillah they’re safe now.

I’m honestly so happy to see many people support Palestine, thank you to all who protested and constantly donate to help the people in Gaza🇵🇸🩷

Also so real for that Rishi Sunak comment because who told him to open his mouth😭😭😭 Every time I see him I get so mad omg💀

Thank you so much for sharing your story with me 🥺🙏🏼🇵🇸

Sooo many people from different religions are conditioned to hate other religions. I know so many people who were raised to hate Muslims, who were raised to hate Jewish people etc etc. It’s just up to us, as we grow up, to combat these views and stereotypes, speak to more people, understand situations and see that there is good and bad in every religion.

I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel, with Palestine being your homeland and yet you moved away so you are safe from the war and yet your people are suffering so much 🥺🥺🥺 It’s heartbreaking and I can’t even imagine, the fact you have family there as well, going through such atrocities.

I just watched a video on tiktok of a man from Palestine who said that a dog in Europe lives a better life than a Palestinian human being in Palestine. Because at his camp, they are waiting for water. A dog on Europe has access to water and the Palestinians do not because Israel cut access bc of course “they have the right to defend themselves!1!1” How a nuclear state cutting water and electricity access from innocent people is helping Israel defend itself, I won’t understand lmfao.

Honestly, this is at the end of the day not a war based on religion at all. No one cares what religion the Zionist alt right government of Israel are… we only care about the 28282992 war crimes they are committing as we speak.

But it’s still great to see Jewish people supporting the Palestinian cause—and the fact there is so many of them! ALSO a lot of Israeli people supporting Palestine shows that there is hope.

I hate Rishi Sunak. This man went to Israel and said “I hope you win” and “the uk stands with Israel” meanwhile there are protests pro Palestine protests here every other day.

[grantmentis]

U18 Women’s World Championship recap

A few different levels finished their tournament, so here’s a brief summary of the top division and division I!

Top division

Final standings

United States - gold

Czechia - silver

Canada - bronze

Finland

Sweden

Slovakia

Switzerland

Germany - regulated

Award winners:

Highlights:

For the second year in a row, a non-north American team was in the finals, and Czechia women capture silver for the first time !

Chloe Primerano, in her first U18 WWC tournament, broke the record for the most points by a defender in tournament history with 16 points. She had 8 goals and 8 assists

Adela Sapovalivova, in her last u18 tournament, finishes as the highest scoring Czech player in u18 women’s world championship history; after a tournament where she adored 9 goals and 2 assists she finishes with 16 goals and 10 assists in 26 u18 WWC games. Forward Tereza Plosová finishes just a point behind her with 25 points in 26 games.

17 year old Finnish player Emma Ekoluoma continues her big year, with 8 goals and 3 assists in 6 games.

To me, the best goaltender was between Aneta Senkova (czechia) and Livia Debranova (Slovakia.) Senkova had the fantastic game against Canada where she made 45 saves. She finished the tournament with a .913 save percentage in 297~ minutes played and 139 shots against. Debranova was also spectacular playing 281 minutes and a .915 save percentage with 201 shots against

Star player Nela Lopušanová (Slovakia) unfortunately saw less ice time than expected due to illness, according to her coach

Division 1A

Japan - promoted to the top division

Italy

Hungary

Austria

France

Denmark - relegated

Highlights:

17 year old Italian forward Matilde Fantin was the top scorer, with 7 goals and 4 assists in 5 games. She currently plays in the SWHL as well, and will be key for an Italian team gearing up for the Olympics in two years

15 year old (!!) forward Umeka Odaira of Japan had a clutch tournament, with a hat trick in the game that got them promoted to the top division. She finished with 9 points in 4 games. Defender and captain Kohane Sato also had a spectacular tournament, with 6 points in 5 games and stellar two way play. Goaltender Haruka kuromaru was also a difference maker, playing all 300 minutes of the tournaments, and ending with a .962 save percentage

Division I B

Norway - promoted

Spain

Poland

Australia

South Korea

Chinese Taipei / Taiwan - relegated

Highlights:

Claudia Castellanos, who recently moved to New Jersey from Spain to play with the ironbound in the 19U AAA league, took a huge step this year on top of already dominate international play and had 11 goals and 3 assists in five games

17 year old Norwegian forward Tilde Simensen played in her first U18 WWC and dominated as well, with 10 goals and 3 assists in five games. She has spent this past season training in Sweden in the division below the SDHL

[isa-gali-art]

Zoe's Lore

Zoe Whispers Clawthorne, is a 17-year-old witch, pansexual, with ADHD, very curious, stubborn and with a great tendency to get into trouble, that said, let's get to know a little more about her:

After Raine's termination, Eda found out that she was pregnant, and after a year, her baby was born (this was before she found King). Eda was too scared to raise her because of her curse, and she couldn't bear it if something bad happened to her daughter, so she decided that her little girl would have a better life without her, so Eda left her at Raine's doorstep with a letter, after reading the letter, they are very sorry for her to be this way, but promise themselves that they will do their best to care for and keep their daughter safe.

Since she was a child, Zoe had a lot of energy (even if this didn't change when she got older), but she also had/has chronic pain (this is a remnant of the curse, less lethal ), she hates it when this pain gets too bad to the point where she can't do ABSOLUTELY anything, she doesn't tell the others about it, because she's ashamed of it, and she doesn't want them to be worried, the only person who knows about it is Raine.

When she was 3 years old, she met a girl, Amanda, she won her admiration, and then a friendship emerged between them.

They were inseparable, until their 6 years old, because after that, they stopped seeing each other and talking, and life goes on.

When she started studying, Zoe had a hard time focusing on classes, because in her words, they were very boring, so she decides to make them interesting, but this landed her in detention SEVERAL times, no wonder she has the nickname " Detention Queen", and that's why some students liked her that way, and others thought she just wanted to be the center of attention, and didn't even want to get close to her, because she's a "magnet for problems", even if there were students who admired her, she never felt close to any of them.

Until one day, Zoe saw a girl named Boscha bullying a girl named Willow, and she CANNOT stand people like that, she defended Willow and put Boscha to run, from that they became friends and shortly after that, they became friends with Gus.

Together they did things that friends do, but mostly, they tried to make sure Zoe didn't get into trouble.

One day they met a human named Luz, and Willow and Gus were shocked at how much Zoe and Luz were VERY similar to each other, they looked like sisters or something, and not long after, they started referring to themselves as sisters , and every time the two were alone, something really crazy happened.

As Raine was a good professor, they caught the attention of Scooter Crane (the headwitch of the Bard Coven at that time, before his retirement) and he invited Raine to teach at the emperor's castle with him, they accepted the invitation, and start teaching there.

When she found out about this, Zoe was very happy for them, and as she always wanted to see that place up close, and saw it as an opportunity to meet him, so Zoe asks Raine to take her there, they DIDN'T want to do that, because she knew that she could get in trouble, or worse, get hurt, but she manages to convince Raine to take her there, but on one condition, she is not to leave their sight.

When they went there, she was amazed by the place, but she couldn't see much, because she promised that she wouldn't leave Raine's sight, BUT they wouldn't mind if she left for a few minutes, so she makes an illusion of herself , and left the room silently without anyone noticing.

So she starts walking through the corridors, writing things down in her notebook and taking several pictures, but as she was distracted, she ended up bumping into a very familiar girl.

After that day, Zoe was still in disbelief that it really happened, because it was so random, but she was very happy that it did.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Long-Running Panel Show Friday: February 17, 2023

The News Quiz: This felt like a very old school episode; Hugo Rifkind, Angela Barnes, Zoe Lyons, Nish Kumar, and Andy Zaltzman were all people you’d expect to see in any given episode of the Miles Jupp era. They even threw in a Sandi Toksvig reference at one point. Aside from old school News Quiz, the Nish-Andy dynamic made it feel a little Bugle-like at times. And Angela Barnes throwing out whatever topical one-liners she’s come up with about the last few days, and then defending them when other panelists are surprised by her take, felt like Mock the Week.

As much as I liked this lineup, it did seem like a shame that they had their all-Scottish lineup last well, leaving an all-English one this week to discuss Nicola Sturgeon. It was nice, though. The Corbyn discussion was a bit contentious, and reminded me that that’s the one subject on which I don’t always love Hugo Rifkind’s perspective, but I see his points. There were a couple of particularly nuanced issues on the agenda this week, and I think the people they had were good ones for that.

QI: This is the second time in a couple of months that Ahir Shah has been the highlight of a panel show episode for me, the first being Catsdown. And that is impressive, because Rosie Jones is always great on panel shows and was on top form this episode. I’d really say Ahir Shah and Rosie Jones were competing to be the highlight of this episode, and being on the same side of the table made them both better. They paired really well, 40 minutes was not nearly enough for me to get tired of the way Rosie Jones would say something vaguely shocking, usually for a combination of being filthy and non-sensical, and he’d look at her incredulously.

Honestly thought, I’ve liked Ahir Shah for a while but I think this episode cumulates with a few other things to make him one of my favourite current panel show people. I think he’s one who got especially fucked over by the cancelation of Mock the Week; he’d just started to establish his status as a regular on there, and should have had more seasons to keep that up. But he’s been really good when I’ve seen him on other things. He has this sort of self-loathing cynicism about him that I really like (this is the sort of thing that highlights the clear distinction between self-loathing in comedy and self-deprecation, as Ahir Shah’s style is clearly the former), that feels like an undertone even when he’s on QI just talking about teaspoons. QI’s a good format for him, as it gives him some opportunities to show off his extensive knowledge, after running it through a lens of cynicism. Throw in a penchant for getting annoyed about things around him, and a competitive streak when it comes to points, and he is also working his way quickly onto my list of dream Taskmaster contestants. Incidentally, his stand-up special Dots is very good and everyone should watch it.

Would I Lie to You: Anything with Desiree Burch and Lucy Beamont is a strong lineup, and they were both great on this, but I felt like this episode was another one where Lee and David really carried it. They can set each other up so well, but also surprise each other, and have so many years of history to reference and draw on, that has comedy chemistry down to perfection. I think it’s been really strong all season, even more than the previous couple of seasons.

Having said that, Desiree Burch and Lucy Beaumont did not disappoint. I’ve always thought Jon Richardson pairs very well with Lee Mack on panel shows, and it turns out his wife does that almost as well. Lucy’s ability to crack Lee up was a delight to watch every time. Also, she is really good at playing her ditzy persona. Really good. That persona was perfect for WILTY, where all she had to do to get away with stuff was make people believe she’s really like that. Which worked on me repeatedly, even though I’ve seen enough of her to know how her persona works, and that would be why I finished with a terrible 2-3 record in the guessing. In my defence, I thought her story about the neighbour and the chicken couldn’t be true, because why would they have not used it on Meet the Richardsons?

I guessed correctly on Desiree for the opposite reason, actually. Desiree told her lie really, really well, but I also know she’s ridiculously intelligent, and was pretty sure she’d be able to come up with a lie that good, that fast.

It was the only one I got right aside from the last one, which was just a free point because obviously David was lying. That was a clear case of something that often gets overlooked on this show, which is the fact that the people on it are famous. A lot of these fake scenarios would not happen this way to a famous person. I remember one David story from an early-ish season, that involved him getting stuck on a diving board like Mr. Bean for a long time. They argued about it for so long, until finally a guest pointed out that if David Mitchell were stuck on a board in a pool full of witnesses, someone would have filmed that shit and put it on YouTube. So of course it was a lie. Similarly, if a restaurant had David Mitchell as a regular and he agreed to let them name a meal after him, they wouldn’t leave out the name “Mitchell”, missing out on the obvious marketing opportunity.

Anyway. I might be getting a bit too caught up in my own game with this show, and that isn’t supposed to be the point. It was a bad episode for my guessing, but a really good actual episode of television. Great back-and-forth among the regulars, great guests, great chemistry between guests and regulars. I’d happily watch many more episodes with this lineup.

And that’s it. No Last Leg this week, due to the Channel 4 comedy awards. Where, on the subject of what I just described, they agreed with me about Lee Mack still being excellent on Would I Lie to You, even after all this time. A bunch of those results were interesting. I mean, some were obvious. I recently made a Tumblr poll to find out people’s favourite panel shows, and I left Taskmaster off it because if you include Taskmaster, there’s basically no contest. Taskmaster just wins every time (seriously though, good for Alex Horne and everyone else). Though actually, they had Taskmaster in the entertainment category, meaning their panel show category did excluse Taskmaster, and Catsdown won. Though actually, according to the much more scientific poll on my Tumblr blog, that should have gone to WILTY.

My main takeaway from reading the list of winners is I was pleased to see Joe Lycett’s latest stand-up show got an award, given that it’s absolutely excellent and everyone should watch it.

[krazykiki05]

There’s Just Not Enough Hours in the Day

Zemo accidentally had a daughter at 16 with a 17 year old. When she found out what he was doing back in 2016, she teamed up with the Avengers to help fight her father at the age of 19. During this time, she helped Bucky and they grew close.. She moved to Wakanda to help him readjust to modern life. When Bucky came back from the blip, he lived with her. He would miss therapy if it wasn’t for her. She would have never seen her father again if it wasn’t for him.

I

I Part 7 I

I

I hear the door slam, Papa entering first. “Anything?” I ask.

“Well I got nothin’.” Bucky announces.

“No one’s talking about Donya.” Bucky sits down next to me and Sam sits across. Papa goes to the kitchen. 

“That’s because Karli’s the only one fighting for them. And she’s not wrong.” Sam says.

“You really think her ends justify her means? Then she’s no different than him or anybody else we’ve fought.” Bucky sasses. 

“Sam has a point.” I snap. Bucky glares at me.

 “See? She’s different. She’s not motivated by the same things.” Sam explains. Papa brings over a tray of cherry blossom tea. 

“That little girl. What’d she tell you?” Bucky asks Papa. I furrow my eyebrows. Little girl? Papa looks at Bucky, then at Sam, then back at Bucky. He sets the try down as he speaks. 

“The funeral is this afternoon.”

“You know the Dora’s coming for you any minute.” Bucky threatens. “In fact they’re probably lurking outside right now.” I glazed at the door, gullible enough to think they actually were. “Keep talking.” 

“Leaving you to turn on me once we get to Karli.” Papa concludes. 

“I won’t let that happen.” I promise. 

“Thank you Malyshka, but I prefer to keep my leverage.” Bucky stands up. I sat up, worried about his next move. Bucky rips the cup out of my father's hand and tosses at the wall behind him, missing my father’s head my mere inches. I stand up.

“James!” I yell. 

“You wanna see what someone can do with leverage?” He growls. I get between them. “Annika, move.” Bucky demanded, not breaking eye contact with my father. 

“Take it easy. Don’t engage him.” Sam says softly, going behind Papa. I might be injured, and don’t stand 5 seconds, but I will fight Bucky. “He’s just gonna extort you and do that stupid head tilt thing.” Sam encircled, glancing at me. I nod to him to let him know I got this. “Let me make a call.” He requested before walking out. Bucky continues to stare down my father. I shove him away. Bucky finally looks at me. His steel blue eyes boring into my amber ones. They were piercing, intimidating. But I stood my ground.

“Annika, it’s quite alright.” Papa says from behind me. I ignore him.

“Why don’t you listen to your father? Since you won’t listen to me.” Bucky snides before walking off. I didn’t want this. The two men in my life, always at each other’s throats. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Malyshka, come sit down. You shouldn’t be standing and I made some cherry blossom tea.” As if on cue, my wound started throbbing. I guess the adrenaline wore off. I wince and hold my side, letting my father guide me back to the couch. 

~~~~~~~

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bucky asks when he saw me ready to go like them.

 “I’m coming with whether you like it or not. You can bitch about it on the way.” I answer before stomping out the door. I hear footsteps follow me. 

“You serious? You’re a liability.” Bucky says as we walk down the sidewalk.

 “As you can see, I walk perfectly fine.” that was a lie. Every step shot a sharp pain into my wound. “Besides, you need all the help you can get. If I can walk, I can fight.” I defend. Bucky growls to himself. Isn’t he glad he’s dating such a strong woman? (note the sarcasm) 

“Karli Morganthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit.” John yells.

 “Ah! How’d you find us now?” I knew Bucky already had no patience for John between the two Zemos he dealt with earlier.

 ~~~~~~

“This better be an unbelievable explain-” John was getting too close to Bucky so I stepped in between them, stopping John with my hand. He glares at me.

“Hey, take it easy before it gets weird.” Sam warns.

“I know where Karli is.” Papa speaks up from behind us. He starts to walk but John stops him. I was about to defend him too, but Bucky held onto me by the collar of my leather jacket. 

~~~~~~~~

“It might be worth a try.” Lemar suggests. John scans all of us before rolling his eyes.

“We’ll deal with you two later.” He says, pointing to my father and I.

 “She’s done nothing wrong!” Sam defends. 

“I’m sure it will all come to an agreeable conclusion. My associate is just up ahead.” Papa says, gesturing to a little girl a block away. 

[elysh-k-letters]

Snippet from Joan (Chapter 17)

“Kath, I’m home!” Joan called, the apartment door closing with a thud I could hear from the other room.

Quickly followed by the sound of her key-chain, overfilled with countless keys and colourful charms, jingling as she hung on the hook in the entryway. I closed the case over the typewriter my parents bought me as a graduation present. After the ceremony in the stuffy school hall they took me to pick it out. They followed me into the dilapidated theatre in our hometown transformed into a bazaar of eclectic items where I found it. Leaving my desk covered in scattered paper held down by mismatched paperweights, ceramic mug holding long-forgotten coffee and the lamp still switched. Through the open door of my bedroom, I greeted her with a smile as she unzipped her boots. Long brown leather, she placed them next to my own lined in a row before the door. “Hey, how was it?” I asked, leaning against the door-frame. Joan shrugged off her tan coat, hanging it next to my leather jacket on the rack between the front door and where I stood. She made an unimpressed sound. “The lecturer is a bit of a bore. But I do love Raphaelites,” she responded. Still standing in the entryway, her hip was cocked as she threw her hands around animatedly. “Which theatre was it?” I rested the side of my head to the door-frame. As always, trying to map out her life in my mind. “Just behind the library,” Joan supplied because she knew exactly what I was doing. She struggled to remove her fingers from her grey gloves, opal ring catching in the wool. “Oh, the ceiling is very pretty in that one.” I said when I pieced it together. Joan smiled at my comment. Finally finished shedding her winter clothes, she brushed her hand over my shoulder as she made her way into our tiny kitchen. All oak cabinets with a large ceramic sink in the corner. A house plant wilted slightly on the corner of the bench propped up by a stack of old books. “Only, you would find a ceiling more interesting than the coursework Kath.” The smile was evident in her voice even with her face obscured by the cupboard she was rustling through. A matching pair of comically large mugs she unearthed from within, we had found them in an nearby op-shop. She set them down on the counter before reaching for the kettle. I finally my spot, following her I grabbed the box of teabags we kept on the third shelf of the pantry. “It’s not my fault that my professor is in love with Austen,” I defended, “if I have to sit through one more lecture on her, I’ll… I’ll probably just fall asleep.” I rolled my eyes at the thought, my back to Joan. She had fallen silent. Something familiar twisted in my gut. I whipped back around, the pantry cupboard closing sharply. “Joan?” She was standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking back at me with that smile I had only see a handful a time. A smile born in that old bed…in the final year of her life. Something cold seeped into my cotton socks. Flinching, I lowered my head. Muddy creek water dripped on the floorboards…

Once again, behind in my writing goals. I've done something dramatic to my knee so my soccer "career" is on pause for now--hopefully that means I can make some progress. This is from my project Joan. Once I have finally finished this third draft I will be seeking beta readers/critique partners for if anyone is interested in helping out! Thanks.

[saemi-the-dreamer]

For the character ask, Alya from Miraculous Ladybug for 12,17,25 and Ginny Weasley from HP for 2,7,12,15?

You're spoiling me, Elves \(;3;)/

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Alya was born in the Périgord (in the Nouvelle-Aquitaine region) but doesn't remember much of her life there because her parents moved to the Réunion when she was about two or three years old. Both her parents had got a job there: sous-chef in a prized restaurant for her mother and animal-care in a zoo for her father. Alya had a good life there, but she sometimes felt limited, she already had some ambitions and dreamt of going to live in a big city, so she was very excited when announced they might move to Paris when she turned 13.

17. What's a ship for this character you don't hate but it's not your favourite that you're fine with?

I would say Alya/Zoé. They have a good potential and might be a very cute pairing but it's not *the* pairing I'd go and search plenty of art and fics for.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

The mom-friend who's a bit too noisy for her own good! xD

Now, I still love Alya but just like many (if not all) characters of the series, she suffers from the writing and thus they made her do and say things that lead to many salt stories (sometimes justified, sadly). Otherwise, I really love how supportive she is of Marinette and that she's the first to learn the latter is Ladybug! The Paris Special is *everything* I wish to see of Alya and her relationship with Marinette, we really to see her more like this!!

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Ginny from "The Order of the Phoenix"!! Ginny was so good in this book! But if I really had to pick only one thing, I'd say the fact that she stood up for Luna, kicked her bullies away with some good (but not harmful) spells and befriended Luna! :'D

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

I really like it when they show Ginny standing up for anyone and defending people she loves, especially Luna, Ron and Neville in a "Though she be but little she is fierce" way. And when she is shown having girl friends, not just boys.

12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?

Ginny helped a lot the twins find some ideas and concepts for the "women's section" of their shop. At first, her reaction was:

"Why would you even want to create a 'women's section' for your shop?! For pranks?? Are we really so alien to you, boys? -_- "

She wasn't totally sold by their arguments, but she still gave them some ideas and concepts to work with because she liked thinking of them. She was thrilled when she saw the Pigmy Puffs!

15. What's your favourite ship for this character? (Doesn't matter if it's canon or not.)

Ginny/Luna, my beloved! <3 Their relationship is so sweet, I wish we had seen more of it! I love them both as best friends and lovers!

I confess: I like Harry/Ginny, but not the way "The Half-Blood Prince" introduced it (sighs). I started entertaining the idea at the end of Book 5 (I was hesitating between her and Luna with whom Harry would be paired up), but I was disappointed by the progression :'(

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I��m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,��� you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[herrlindemann]

Bravo - 17 July 1997

Action, explosions, flashes of fire - in the video for the new single 'Du Hast' Rammstein let it rip again: Drummer Schneider dies by fire, his bride is blown up. BRAVO was there when the "Anti-Marriage Anthem" was shot and describes the dramatic short crime thriller...

His expression is twisted with fear. Thick beads of sweat stand on his forehead. Schneider, the Rammstein drummer, is on trial as a defendant. The judges fixed him with ice-cold looks — they hid their faces behind white masks. “Do you want to be faithful to her for all days until death do you part?” one of the judges snaps at him. There follows a pause in which delicate angelic voices can be heard singing in the background. Then one of the judges suddenly steps forward, pours a can of petrol over the death row inmate and sets Schneider on fire. A jet of flame shoots up to the ceiling. Schneider staggers through the dark courtroom as a living torch, ablaze with flames...

These dramatic scenes can be seen in the video for the new Rammstein single "Du Hast". "The mafia criminal court is the key scene," explains Schneider, who took on the leading role as the macho band's darling girl, while his buddies Flake, Richard, Till, Paul and Olli played the masked judges. “I play a member of the honorable family who went rogue for the love of a woman. I have to answer to the gang for the betrayal. But the story ends very differently than expected...”

In the first verse of the booming industrial song “Du Hast”, Till sings only one sentence in a hoarse voice: ”Du hast mich, du hast mich, du hast mich gefragt, und ich hab’ nichts gesagt”. During this line, the video shows a rickety Volga sedan approaching a lonely old barn. A dark-haired woman in red was driving, Schneider was in the passenger seat. Fear and desperation are written on their faces. Schneider cocks his pistol and slowly walks towards the shed where the Rammstein Committee is waiting for him. But his fears are unfounded. Instead of blue beans, his comrades greet him with a warm hug like a long-lost friend. The whole toasts to his happy return with whisky.

Meanwhile, the abandoned bride fearfully imagines the judgment and the murder of her lover. Suddenly, the barn door bursts open. The Rammsteiler walk towards her in gang formation. The woman seeks Schneider's gaze, but he avoids her, looks uncertainly at his watch and walks past her without a word. The next moment the car with his betrayed lover explodes in a huge fireball.

During the shoot on the site of an abandoned Red Army barracks just outside of Berlin, Rammstein, the fire devils of the German rock scene, unleashed a veritable inferno of flames that almost got out of control. "The bomb was built by professionals and complied with TÜV regulations," says Till, "but the pressure wave swept me to the ground and the flames spread across the site in a matter of seconds. The whole crew had to flee.”

Schneider paid for these hot scenes with second-degree burns on his arm and back.

“Du Hast” is about the conflict between friendship, between men and love for a woman. "The two don't work together — we experienced that ourselves," says Schneider, who wrote the screenplay for the "Anti-Marriage Anthem" himself. “At Rammstein it's like this: We separate from women, but never from the band. Only our children are more important to us!” Four of the boys are fathers: Till has three daughters, Nele (12), the eldest, lives with him. Richard is also a single father to a six-year-old daughter. Paul has a seven-year-old son and Flake has a two-year-old daughter. The keyboard man is the only one in firm hands.

Rammstein are on vacation until August 4th. "After that, action is announced," promises Richard. “On August 22nd our new CD, 'Sehnsucht' will be released. On August 17th and 30th we will be at open airs in Cologne and Konstanz. Our ‘Sehnsucht’ tour starts on September 26th, on which we will play 25 shows in large halls until October 23rd. We will fire up the fans with a brand new fire show.”

[redrobin-detective]

because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image. 

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!” 

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes. 

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race. 

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable. 

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form. 

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur. 

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy. 

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams. 

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary. 

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice. 

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge. 

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head. 

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless. 

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.” 

[artsybookworms]

So it’s come to my attention that a lot of people think the “rivalry ends here” kiss is super cringy after reading that one textpost that makes fun of it?? It’s honestly one of my favorite Percabeth moments so here’s my whole big spiel no one asked for about why y’all are crazy (/s).

First of all, we watch this whole scene through Piper’s perspective (gee thanks Rick). Literally that’s the whole reason it’s “awkward.” If your two friends suddenly had a long, passionate kiss in front of you, yeah, you’d probably retell it as some really embarrassing ordeal that happened in front of you. But from either Percy or Annabeth’s POV? It’s romantic as hell. Think about it this way: They met at 12 years old and thought they were enemies solely due to their parentage. Slowly, they got to know each other and a friendship bloomed. After years of life changing, emotional moments together, they realize that they have feelings for each other. Now, at 17 years old, they’re in yet another fight for their lives, just survived literal Hell together, and find themselves at the very spot where the rivalry between their parents began. Percy saw the opportunity and he took it.

“But isn’t it weird to do that right in front of a friend?” Honestly? If I were Percy, standing in front of the love of my life with the chance to both tell them I love them AND symbolically end eons of our parental rivalry, I wouldn’t have given a flying f ck who was around to witness it. It was an incredibly sweet thing to do.

The second thing people think is “cringe” is that Annabeth is out of breath after?? I’ve even seen people completely over-exaggerate it by saying she made weird gasping sounds and stuff like that. This is the actual quote from the book:

“‘The rivalry ends here.’ Percy said. ‘I love you, Wise Girl.’ Annabeth made a little sigh, like something in her rib cage had melted.”

Why do y’all have such a problem with that😭 She’s just caught off guard and breathless and completely in love with this boy. If you don’t like the scene, that’s perfectly fine. But I just felt like defending them because I think it’s actually quite romantic, and I hope people will stop making fun of it so much :,)

Well this ended up being super long, thanks for coming to my TED Talk lmaoo