#literally miss my horrible old rich people so much!!

[gregmarriage]

genuinely don’t think i’ve felt alive since succession ended

[anamericangirl]

I noticed something recently. Since yesterday, I've been pointing out on liberal posts that Kamala said "Trump wanted to abolish the supreme co-… The supreme co… The supreme… … Land… of our… … … constitutional… American land." and that I think she might be retarded. And people have been replying saying she didn't say that, or that I need to prove she said that, or asking me where she said that.

Same goes for Biden when I point out his golden quotes such as "I was the vice president for Barack America"

Libs always have no idea what I'm talking about. They always demand I prove they said those quotes. When I said Hillary wanted to build a wall long before Trump did, they say she never said that, and I show them the video and they don't wanna watch it.

What I'm getting at is

Liberals don't even watch the speeches of their own candidates. They don't watch them at all! These are incredibly commonly known quotes, these are easy to find videos, these are things they say unbelievably commonly in all of their speeches and libs are always dumbfounded when you bring them up.

THEY DON'T EVEN WATCH THEIR OWN RALLIES.

If I said that Kamala said "We need to build Strength through Joy" at the DNC, which is literally a Nazi thing (google "Strength through Joy"), which she DID SAY, and Oprah Winfrey ALSO SAID IT, the libs would reply "She never said that" as though they didn't even watch the DNC at all.

It's fucking wild

They are completely uninformed, they aren't listening to their own candidates, they're voting entirely out of hate or racially fueled shit like "I want to vote for a black woman" instead of actually watching their speeches.

I've watched every single Kamala, Biden, Trump, RFK Jr, Obama, Hillary, etc. speech for every election I've been old enough to vote for because it's extremely important to me as a human being to know who I'm VOTING FOR TO BE A REPRESENTATIVE OF MY VOICE AND A LEADER TO MY GODDAMN FUCKING COUNTRY EXCUSE ME GOD

And when I bring up quotes that liberal politicians say, liberals will always demand I'm lying and demand proof, and when I give them the proof they refuse to watch it!

I am 100% convinced liberals are just white-hating racists who want slavery to make a comeback which is why they're so strongly for letting illegals into our country and giving them the right to vote and mass amnesty because the democratic party fought tooth and nail to give slaves full voting power so they could get their slaves to vote for the left wing politicians who wanted to keep slavery going because they were filthy rich under slavery, but now that slavery's been abolished they're looking for any other way they can get colored folks to vote blue hence giving them $150,000 home loans in California. 100% convinced.

Get "I study history" on, liberals. Reminder that Kamala's literally a descendant of slave owners. Liberals regularly say shit like "All white people should be killed because they're descendants of slave owners" but despite factual evidence Kamala's a descendant of slave owners, they make an exception.

Sorry liberals. But you are horrible people, you're racist, you're intentionally uninformed, you don't put a single bit of effort into reading about US history or the history of the politicians you're voting for, and you're retarded.

Liberals are the definition of low information/no information voters. They get all their news from tiktok and think they’re informed enough to vote on who is the best person to lead the country.

They have no idea how much context and information they are missing.

And at this point I think it’s largely intentional with some people because otherwise they would have to confront the fact that these liberal politicians they are putting on pedestals as the saviors of America who will restore “democracy” (another term they don’t know the meaning of) are literally everything they claim to hate.

It says a lot about them when they can pull up Trump quotes from 10 or 15 years ago but they can’t tell you what Kamala said yesterday.

[black-rabbit-razumikhin]

Raz Reads Les Mis (XI)

Cosette - Fulfillment of the Promise to the Departed

Cosette, at her scrawny, underfed 8 years old has to walk through the woods alone to get water for the tavern

This is going to get confusing if I keep saying foster family, so foster father Thenardier and foster mother Thenardiess

Their dynamic is described as him being a mouse and her being an elephant

Hugo goes on far too long of a time explaining her appearance to tell is how horrible she is

And I know that was The Thing back then, but it made me see Thenardiess in a far more sympathetic light

Right up until she starts interacting with Cosette

A man wants water for his horse

But there is no water!

So Cosette is given a bucket which she is able to sit down comfortably inside and told to fetch water

It's dark, it's cold, it's dangerous, my little Cosette has nothing on her but a dress of cotton rags

On her way to get water she stops and looks in at a shop selling dolls, thinking about this beautiful doll she calls The Lady

But Thenardiess screams at her to hurry up and Cosette races off

She's conflicted, and considers not getting water at all, as terrified as she is of both her home life and the forest in the night

But eventually the fear of the Thenardiess and her punishment wins

Cosette fills the bucket with water but can barely carry it

She stumbles and falls and the bucket is about to tumble when it is taken from her by a large hand

... Jean Valjean?

Or is it the Boulatruelle we met earlier?

Regardless, man and girl walk back to the tavern

And Cosette asks to carry the bucket in so she won't get beaten

Cosette! This is not the childhood you should have had

She brings in the water, he asks for board

Thenardiess and Thernardier both think he's a poor begger so charge him exorbitant prices

He pays them easily

Strong, rich, hiding his name...

Surely this is Valjean right?

The nigtt goes on and he treats Cosette with kindness, buying the stockings she's knitting so she is able to play, buying her The Lady, who she is so scared of that she can barely believe the doll is for her, putting a large amount of money in her shoe while she is asleep

While this is happening, the foster sisters are dressing up a kitten and it's screaming and crying and the whole thing feels so cruel

Hugo says all of society is represented in the three girls

And it's got some heavy Christian undertones, but it's also written that I can't not side with the pious, spiritually rich but materially poor Cosette

The next day the mystery man buys Cosette from her foster family

Though not without a struggle

And not without Thernardier running after him and Cosette after they leave

He pauses in his pursuit only to think to himself that he should have brought his gun

And Hugo literally says that Satan could learn a thing or two from Thernardier's character

I mean he's horrible and a villain, but demonic?

I'm sure there will be worse people in this book

But Thernardier catches up to them and demands Cosette back

"She's not mine to give, I'm keeping her for her mother."

To which the mystery man hands over a letter

The letter signed by Fantine granting custody of Cosette to the letter's bearer

Fantine I miss you

But that answers definitively that it is Valjean fulfilling his promise to find Cosette

The end of the chapter explains that Valjean swam away and bought himself new clothes etc., everything we can expect from how someone would escape

I've read too much of this book now to realistically hope for anything good, but this chapter makes me want to hope. I want Valjean to raise Cosette in the way that Fantine should have. I want him not to be pursued anymore; I want her to know what genuine love and care feels like.

I forgot to mention above, but the Thenardiess has a son and she dotes over him until his crying gets too much and then she neglects him because she's bored? It's as if she has no acknowledgement of human life outside of where she chooses to see it. The whole situation with the foster family made me so mad, please let Cosette be out of that forever now.

[haemosexuality]

about my tav, phynn (who is kind of a self insert):

phynn is a drow that was born in the underdark and raised by a lolth sworn family. after trying several times, she successfully escaped her city when she was 76. since then, she has been moving around a lot- living in areas of the underdark that are very near the surface and dont have many drows (she doesnt mind the deep gnomes and duergar), but mainly in the outskirts of surface cities, including of course Baldur's Gate. it took her almost a decade to get used to the sun

she is a thief, and a very good one. shes had odd jobs here and there but she makes most of her outcome by straight up stealing whatever she can find and then selling it. when shes in big, rich cities like Baldur's Gate, she does a looot of burglary. breaking and entering is like her favorite hobby. she also had to get very good at fighting, both bc of the whole drow thing and bc of all the criminaling

by the start of the game, shes 183 years old, having been living in and around the surface for just over 100 years. in a human au she would be like 24

PERSONALITY AND OTHER FACTS:

her morals are contradicting and alll over the fucking place. that is because i am not good at role-playing and will just do whatever the fuck but in universe is because she was raised by very hardcore lolth worshippers and then spent the next century mostly by herself and getting by by stealing. not a lot of time for things like developing a well established and stable moral code. id say shes chaotic neutral, but with a good heart?

her journey throughout the game at first made her better, she tried to be a good person, and then made her worse because that is a lot of horrible things that happened to her and all her new friends and she is this close to snapping and having a breakdown. also shes killed more people in the last like 4 months than she has in a whole century and that will for sure change a person for the worst. shes become very apathetic and just so goddamn Tired. she didnt sign up for saving the whole world she just wanted this damn tadpole out of her head so she could continue to sell stolen jewelry!!! fucks sake!!

as part of her total off the rails mental breakdown she also became a chronic kleptomaniac. she was a thief before sure but that was just like, her job for her, now its a real compulsion. her raiding everything and everyone she sees and its starting to worry the other companions. this is inspired by me going to GREAT lengths and doing everything i can to steal literally everything i see until i realized i really didnt need to be doing that i have so many shit in my inventory and like 30 thousand gold. then i started feeling bad for these fictional npcs that are not real people and are not important to the story whatsoever because everyone here is so poor i dont need to be stealing but i truly cannot stop. normal behavior

she actually misses some aspects of the underdark. she liked how pretty (and less sunny) it was, and the food. shes not lolth sword but shes not seldarine either, she just kind of doesn't care. obviously shes not a fan of drow culture, but she still gets pretty pissed when surface ppl start talking shit

she is a rogue! she also has some levels of fighter but i just got that for gameplay reasons.

shes dating karlach in denial she doesnt know if she wants to try to convince her to go to hell so she can live, or just accept her wish to let her die. this is inspired by me crying real life tears over this fucking character. also astarion is her bestie they gossip together

not much else to say about her personality shes literally just me if i was given free will to be chaotic insane and kill people

uhm when she met astarion she didnt realize he was a vampire at ALL she assumed he was an albino drow. he ran with it until she woke up to him almost biting her while she slept (canon game event). this is inspired by a comic i saw

APPEARANCE:

eyes: because she was born to a lolth sworn mother her eyes are naturally red. i also gave her cat pupils because that looks cool to me it makes sense that drows would have pupils that can better adjust to lack of/light like that i mean they live underground!! because she is me tho she cant see shit. she used to have glasses but they got lost early in the game in a battle to which she was just blind as fuck and had to be babysat by the other companions. that lasted less than a tenday (dnd week) tho because:

her right eye got Volo'd, and the glass eye volo gives us to replace the one he plucked out is Magic, and not nearsighted! she started covering her left eye with an eyepatch since, because having one eye that can see perfectly and one that cant is awful and confusing. when she doesnt wear the eyepatch, her left eye is always squinting

the glass eye has round pupils, so her pupils are different now too!

she dyes her hair different colors. with the power of Magic and Fantasy Hair Dye. tho her natural hair color is ofc white

has vampire bite scars from astarion. they have an agreement going on where he can feed off of her every few days. people are baffled that its not sexual (astarions traumatized ass included)

she bandages her chest because i cant imagine a worst curse than having to run around and fight and climb mountains with a large chest

[steveharrington]

21 & 22 also hi i'm a big fan

hi so nice to meet my supporters

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

hmmm there’s so much to choose from… this is weird but i’m gonna say like. character deaths. i feel like people vastly overestimate and exaggerated how sad these deaths supposedly are and i’m NOT saying this to be edgy and i DO think some of them are really sad okay like. the first couple hit!!! benny and barb and bob all make me emotional even if barb’s actual death scene does make me laugh bc they literally interspersed clips of her dying with stancy fucking which is hard to take serious. but like i cannot for the life of me relate to people who are sad alexei died. who are sad chrissy died. even eddie’s actual death scene is so hollow and forced to me that the scene itself doesn’t make me sad in the slightest and i Only get emotional thinking about the hypothetical feelings of the other characters, which we didn’t even get to see!!! ppl will inevitably be sad when the designated Born To Die character in s5 dies. i feel like st saw how much barb and bob affected people and they were like oh let’s do that every season then! but barb was sad because she was nancy’s childhood best friend and we spent a lot of time examining nancy’s grief over it, bob was sad because he offered hope for joyce that she could have a safe and stable life and his death was like ripping away her last shred of hope. alexei and chrissy to me aren’t developed or integral to the story nearly enough for me to be sad that they’re dead i’m SORRY

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

ugh lucas’ storylines……s1 baby lucas so intent on getting his missing friend back that he goes to stake out a government lab BY HIMSELF and struggles to trust an outsider who he instinctively blames for the horrors until he empathizes with her and ultimately becomes her bestie…..s2 lucas developing feelings for max but literally being threatened and eventually attacked by her 18 year old racist brother and STILL making sure max knows that she’s a separate person who he cares about…..s3 lucas slaying bc that’s kinda all they let him do that season…….s4 lucas hoping he can thrive in high school and start a new chapter where he can feel socially accepted and kinda make a path for himself with a new interest but now max won’t talk to him and he’s worried about her and terrified for her wellbeing and no matter how much he tries to communicate this to her she continues to self isolate until finally his love for her is LITERALLY what saves her fucking life and also one of his friends dies horribly and it’s only given like 2 seconds of attention even though he’s clearly affected by it. god. all of lucas’ story arcs are so rich and compelling and no one ever wants to talk about him!!!!!!!!!

[lcvcntc]

HSHQTASK059!

when did you join ? what made you join ? what do you remember from the plotlines that were current at the time ? where were you in life when you joined and where are you now ?

i think i joined in late 2017! i had to go check, otherwise i would lied and said in 2018! i had just started uni some months earlier, it was a very hectic and weird time. i didn't think my schedule would allow me to stay in a group setting but hshq was too addictive! now i'm an old old old working woman, uni feels a forever ago

which characters have you written over the years ?

oh boy! antonia, levente, mieke, leonor, maybe someone else but only briefly?

what is your favourite plotline that you've been part of ?

i think the english plotline will forever stay with me. don't get me wrong, i love the croÿs, they've kept me so entertained and i love them, but the english plotline was intriguing and i liked the magnitude of it. it was also a fun way to comment on the english class system. in all of its absurdity, i feel like it was a smart plotline. one of the lighter and shorter plotlines that i've loved would be lisvente and in extension levente and isabela's hate for each other. lisvente helped me a lot with characterization in the beginning, and honestly i think i lost the plot on levente at some point and he became almost too kind. i wanted him to be genuinely despicable but i think i failed at that a bit. the fights with isabela were fun and i'm sort of sad they became quite civil towards the end.

what about other people's plotlines ?

i'm a big fan of italy. i think it was interesting plotline to follow and it kept surprising me ! and i have a soft spot for viveka and ilona and i wish we could have gotten more of them :(

who is your favourite character from the ones you've played ? why ? what made you love them ? what made them so fun to write ?

weidly enough antonia. she wasn't too easy to write but at the height of the english drama, i think i got to write some of the most interesting replies. antonia allowed me to write about the politics that i actually knew something about. antonia was also a refreshing character among all the rich bitches of hshq. it was fun to offer a balancing force. levente's shit was mostly petty and while his plotlines were entertaining and it was fun to write someone horrible, he became a bit repetitive. i think if leonor's plots would have developed past the first threads, i would have fallen more in love with her. she was refreshing and i liked the opportunity to write a truly emotional character!

if you could relive a plotline, which would it be ?

the very short plotline where fanni had to pretend to sylvia that milena's ultrasound pictures were hers. it was so funny and unexpected chain of events. i had fun!

is there a plotline that you'd edit now if you could ?

i don't think so. all of my plotlines have more or less written themselves and i'm fine with the organic way things came to be.

what's a plotline you wish you would have been able to finish before closing or just write more of ?

maybe invente? i was so inactive that they never really recovered from the katya thing. i promised to isa that i'd finish one last levente x fanni thread so that's still in the works1

what is your favourite ooc memory ?

nothing particular comes to mind. i think i miss the times when people actually posted ooc stuff on the dash. the times when the dash was more ooc than ic were great because everyone were so invested!

where can others find you if they want to get in touch ?

i'm not really anywhere anymore, sorry :( if something comes up, you can try this acc but i don't know if i'll login that often

what else would you like to say ?

i've had an amazing time with all of you. this group's been truly remarkable and i am incredibly happy that i wasn't flaky. i've been able to write intricate plotlines that never would have happened if people hadn't been loyal, motivated and innovative! i will literally miss everyone so much <3 ps. i'll write the 58th task soon!

[linagram]

[ 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚊'𝚜 𝚝𝟷 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚊 ] 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗

THE LAST VD. FINALLY. we're very close to the end of trial 1, now there's only riku and reina's interrogation + their trial results left.

thank you so much for all your support btw! it's still so hard for me to believe that someone would find these guys interesting enough to read all of this 😭💖💕

(divider link)

(door opens)

Eiji: Hello, Prisoner 010.

Reina: Oh! Hello there, Guard-san! Can't believe it's already time for my interrogation! So excited~

Miki: .. Y-you're excited for your own interrogation?

Reina: Of course! I'd love to answer any of your questions.

Reina: Ehehe, it's kinda like.. I don't know, spending the night talking to your friends and getting to know each other better.

Reina: I miss that feeling, not gonna lie.

Eiji: .. I'm glad that you're the last prisoner. You all are way too weird for me to understand.

Eiji: Well, it's not like I want to understand you. I just have to learn more about your crime and then I can vote you guilty without feeling like I've made a mistake.

Reina: Oh, don't worry about that, Guard-san.

Reina: You don't even need to interrogate me to understand why you should vote me guilty.

Eiji: Yeah, sure, you've been talking about how dangerous you are since you got here.

Reina: Well, I am dangerous. You're literally talking to a serial killer right now-

Eiji: Anyway, Prisoner 010, Himura Reina. 20 years old, unemployed.

Eiji: Huh. So you're not even a college student or anything like that?

Reina: Nope. I don't see why someone like me should get an education.

Reina: Also, from what Eiko-chan and Yurika-chan have told me, it sounds very hard. I don't wanna go through something like that.

Reina: We only live once after all. So I wanna spend my life having fun with the people I love~

Miki: Oh, what do you do for fun, Himura-san?

Reina: Kill people, steal their stuff or maybe just beat them up!

Miki: O-oh.

Eiji: And.. you really do it just for fun?

Reina: Yep.

Reina: What, did you expect me to have a deep and tragic reason for it?

Reina: Sorry, I don't have one.

Reina: Oh, I can come up with one right now though! Let's see..

Miki: U-um, sorry, Himura-san, but..

Miki: I still think that you most likely do have a reason to act like that.

Reina: Really? Why?

Miki: Well.. I believe that when someone does a bad thing, they always have some kind of reason to do it.

Miki: Even when they think they don't have it.

Miki: Because.. If everything was fine, if they had nothing to worry about and if they had no problems at all, why would they go this far? Why would they do something so horrible?

Miki: And even if it's "just for fun", it probably just means that maybe there's something wrong with their mental state or the way they see the world.

Miki: So.. Even if you're someone who probably deserves to be punished, I still want to understand you.

Reina: .. Huh.

Reina: *laughs*

Reina: You sure are funny.

Reina: Sorry, but again, I really don't think I had a reason to do all those things.

Reina: My life was perfect. I wouldn't say I come from a rich family, but we certainly had a lot of money. Both of my parents are alive and well. I have a lot of friends and all of them love me and see me as their leader.

Reina: So like, I don't really have a sad backstory or anything like that.

Eiji: .. Hey.

Eiji: When did you start committing all these crimes? And why?

Reina: Ohhh, that's a nice question, Guard-san! Let me think..

Reina: Hm.. I think I was like 16 or something? I just thought that stealing something from an annoying old lady would be funny.

Eiji: I see. And what did you do with that thing?

Reina: It was a pretty expensive necklace and I gave it to my mom as a birthday gift. I forgot to get something for her, so I thought it would be perfect. And I was right.

Reina: She had no idea where I got the money to buy it, so she just assumed I picked it for her and my dad bought it. He also forgot to get a gift for her, so he played along, but he did yell at me after that.

Reina: So ungrateful..

Miki: So you did have a reason to do it.

Reina: What do you mean? I just told you that I did it for fun! I didn't have any reason-

Miki: You said you found that old lady annoying, right? Did she do something bad to annoy you?

Reina: .. I guess she just didn't like kids. She hated seeing me and my little brother play together, so..

Miki: See? You did have a reason to steal something from her, Himura-san. You didn't just do it because you thought it would be "funny".

Miki: You got mad at that old woman and you stole that necklace from her. It's like.. you tried to "protect yourself" from her in some way? Maybe your little brother too.

Reina: ...

Reina: Haha.. Wow, you really should become a therapist.

Miki: Um, is that a compliment?..

Miki: Oh, by the way, what was your relationship with your little brother like? I'm assuming you two got along well, since your life was so great and-

Reina: Oops, sorry, can't tell you! I've said that I will answer any of your questions, but a cool criminal always has to have at least some secrets~

Eiji: Now you're acting even more suspicious.

Eiji: Okay, fine, if you're a serial killer, describe all of your murders right now. I'm listening.

Reina: Huh? What's with the sudden change of topic?

Eiji: I'm waiting, Reina.

Reina: Uh, f-fine! Let's see..

Reina: Okay, I think I committed my first murder when I was 17? Yeah, I think it was my classmate. Haha, I hated her so much..

Miki: .. Himura-san, I'm sorry, but the way you talk about your crimes is very strange to me.

Reina: What do you mean by that, Miki-chan?

Miki: U-um, actually, I'm also a guard, so-

Reina: Haha, I know, I know, sorry. You're just very cute, that's all.

Eiji: "That's like.. the second prisoner in a row. What's with them complimenting her all of a sudden?"

Eiji: "They're just trying to make her vote them innocent, aren't they?"

Miki: Well.. You talk about them like you don't remember them that well.

Miki: I can understand talking like that about minor crimes, but murders..

Reina: When you're a serial killer like me, you eventually stop counting and caring about your victims.

Reina: Of course, I don't remember most of my murders now.

Miki: !

Miki: This is it!

Miki: Himura-san, if you don't care about how many murders you've committed, then why do you keep mentioning how dangerous and scary you are?

Miki: Why do you keep saying that we should vote you guilty if you don't even care about your crimes?

Miki: I'll take Chiba-san as an example. She wanted us to vote her guilty because she was tired of people saying that her crime was "a good thing".

Miki: And most prisoners here want us to vote them innocent because they care about their crimes. They either know that they've done something wrong, but they're too scared of the consequences, or they think that they were in the right and they refuse to admit that they've done something bad.

Miki: If you don't even care about your crimes, then surely you won't mind us voting you innocent, right? I mean, those crimes don't even matter to you..

Reina: ...

Eiji: .. You've got nothing to say, huh?

Miki: That means you do care about your crimes, Himura-san. You probably care about them most than any other prisoners care about their own murders.

Miki: I just.. I can't believe that you can walk around and call yourself a murderer so proudly, but also refuse to talk about your murders whenever someone asks you about them. Or you just try to come up with something right after hearing the question.

Miki: If you've committed so many crimes and you've been killing people since you were only 17 years old, then why did they make you come to Milgram only now?

Reina: ...

Miki: Say something now, Himura-san. Please.

Reina: .. Wow, you sure are smart!

Miki: I MEANT "SAY SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR CRIMES"!

Miki: ...

Miki: .. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so-

Eiji: It's okay, Guard 002. Good job.

Eiji: Let me handle this.

Eiji: (to Reina) So, do you have anything to say about your last victim? You know, maybe that last murder of yours will help us figure out why you're here.

Reina: .. Haha, sure!

Reina: Let me think-

Eiji: Stop thinking, Prisoner 010. Just say it. Just tell us the truth.

Eiji: Stop trying to evade the question.

Reina: It was a kid.

Miki: .. What?

Reina: Oh, sorry, he wasn't as young as Asahi-kun.

Reina: He was fifteen, actually.

Reina: And I killed him! I killed him just because this is how cruel I am!

Eiji: Give us more details. How did it happen?

Reina: .. I think this should be enough though.

Reina: Like, come on, Guard-san, I literally told you that I killed a child! Do it, vote me guilty!

Reina: This is such an easy decision, you don't even have to think twice about it!

Reina: So go on and do it! Do it!

(bell rings, machinery sounds)

Eiji: .. You're the last prisoner we're interrogating, by the way.

Reina: Ehehe, well, I hope you still have some energy left. You also have to watch my video, right?

Reina: So please make sure to watch it closely~ You will see all the horrible crimes I've committed.. I'm so excited!

Miki: .. If you really were so excited, you would just tell us everything right now.

Reina: Um.. Well, where's the fun in that?

Reina: It's your job to figure out what actually happened! So I trust you will do the right decision.

Reina: .. You will vote me guilty, right?

Eiji: Who knows.

Reina: Huh?

Reina: But.. Guard-san, aren't you the one who's obsessed with punishing criminals and all that?

Reina: Look at me! Look at me, I'm the worst murderer here! I definitely deserve to-

Eiji: Maybe the best punishment for you would be being voted innocent and living with the knowledge that you've done something wrong and you can't go back.

Eiji: Miki, how about you try saying the line this time?

Eiji: I'm a little tired of it, to be honest.

Miki: Um.. O-okay!

Miki: Prisoner 010, Reina, sing your sins!

═════════•°• ⚠ •°•═════════

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.

[butwhyduh]

A Date to Remember

Damian Wayne x Superman’s daughter reader

Damian is 20, reader 19, Jon is her little brother at 18 and Kon acts like an older brother to her.

Warning: angsty and kidnapping

You’d always told Damian that the sunset on the Kent farm was the best in the world. Damian smiled a little as he drove down the long road to Smallville. Damian had thought about classic dinner date in one of Metropolis’ fanciest restaurants but you insisted on meeting him in a barn.

He felt underdressed. Blue jeans and a flannel shirt. Why did he let Jon help him get dressed? He felt ridiculous but at least he wore sensible shoes. But deep down Damian knew you world like it. And he was certainly willing to feel a little foolish for you.

Clark was off world and Lois was on a mission. Jon had his own date in the city so it was the both of you alone tonight. How long had it been since the two of you were alone without someone around? Between his half a dozen brothers and your family with literal super hearing... yeah it’s been tough. So being 50 miles from everyone was kind of a dream.

Damian pulled in the driveway with some flowers and walked up to the house. He knocked on the door only for it to swing open. Damian noticed the splintered door frame and his heart sped up. He called your name. Act like the rich billionaire son while working like Robin, even though he wasn’t quite sure he still wanted the name.

He scanned every surface and he noticed a small scratch near the back door after looking through every room. Most people wouldn’t even notice it. You weren’t there. He looked closely and saw drag marks in the gravel path to the barn. His heart was thundering at this point. You weren’t in the barn either.

You were half Kryptonian but the genetic inheritance was complicated. Jon had won the lottery with having most of his father’s powers and not being as sensitive to Kryptonite. You had lost it. Hypersensitive to Kryptonite and only some speed and increased hearing and strength. Barely about the average human. You weren’t a fighter.

Damian pulled out his phone to call Jon.

“Bit busy here, Damian,” Jon said, sounding far from amused. Damian could hear kissing noises in the background and frowned. He didn’t want to hear that.

“Your sister is missing,” he said and he heard a lot of movement on the phone.

“What??”

“The door jam was kicked in and there are scrap marks of her being dragged away. I think she’s been kidnapped,” Damian said. His voice felt tight. He, son of Batman, let his girlfriend get kidnapped. “Whoever it was clearly waited until she had no other Kryptonians around to grab her. It wasn’t a coincidence that she was taken tonight. Can you get out here? I’m calling father to try and trace her. Her phone is missing too.”

“I’m leaving in 5. Damian, if Luther has her, she can’t handle Krytonite,” Jon said, worry bleeding into his voice. “It’s like it poisons her.”

“I know. But we don’t know who has her. Let’s hope they don’t know she’s part Krytonian,” Damian said, already mentally moving on to his next step. Contact Bruce. Get the bat computer to trace her. Look for more evidence. Don’t freak out completely that she might be poisoned by Kyrotonite.

“Okay. I’m about to fly. I’ll see you soon,” Jon said before hanging up.

——————————

You woke up with a cough. You head throbbed and your stomach rolled as you laid in a bed? Maybe a couch? It was a horrible feeling but you knew exactly what it was: Kryptonite. You couldn’t forget what how that stuff made you feel. You tried to look around to see it but the room was completely dark. Night vision would be nice but you got human eyes. Your slightly enhanced hearing heard nothing but the wind outside. Okay, you were ground level or higher.

You tried to twist in the cuffs that bound your hands only to cry out. There was the Kryptonite. It was on the outside of the cuffs and you almost threw up at it touched your skin. You were cuffed with Kryptonite to a hospital bed, you figured. What other bed had areas perfect for cuffs? Your legs were equally restrained and you felt so exposed in the dark room.

Your dad was off world. He wouldn’t hear you if you called for him. But Jon might. But if you yelled, someone might come in and who knows what they would do. You’d wait a little bit longer. You wanted to fall asleep. The Kryptonite made you feel so dull. Like the first time you were exposed to it.

You were all of 4 years old. Your dad had brought you with him to the Justice League meeting. Relatively safe and Batman promised Robin would watch you. Dick was so excited to be a babysitter. You had hugged him tight enough to hurt before running to the climbing wall.

“Hey!” Called the 16 year old. “I brought games instead!”

You warily walked back over to him and card games and board games fell out of a duffle bag as he opened it. Half the stuff you were far too young for. You bent down as he scooped up his gameboy. You pulled out some games and open a side pocket to grab a small metal box. Dick sat down his gameboy carefully before turning back to you.

“Don’t open th-“ he started before you pulled open the box to show a bright green stone. Followed by you throwing up all over his bag of games. You dropped the box and sat on the floor. Dick quickly closed the box with the piece of Kryptonite and put it in his pocket. He had boroughed one of Bruce’s bags that apparently wasn’t fully unpacked.

“Dad, I don’t feel good,” you said as Clark ran over. Dick looked at you so guiltily.

“I didn’t know,” he swore. “I’m so sorry.” Bruce stood by quietly.

“We need to talk later,” Clark had told Bruce and yeah, they were mad at each other for a while.

——————————————

Jon arrived shortly in a dress shirt and slacks and he looked at Damian just as weird as Damian looked at him. They had basically switched clothing.

“Not to judge but that’s date clothing? You told me to not wear flannel,” Jon said accusingly.

“That’s because your sister wanted me to wear this,” Damian said back. “Let’s focus on finding her. Father’s calling me now. We’ll change in a minute.”

“Hello, you’re on speaker phone,” Damian said.

“Her tracker is showing a warehouse owned by Luthor Corp in downtown Metropolis,” Bruce said. “Do you need help? I can see if Dick is nearby.”

“No thanks. Jon will help me. Thank you, father,” Damian said before hanging up.

“Luthor. I knew it,” Jon said with a frown. “Wait, you put a tracker on my sister? Does she know?”

“Now is not the time. Let’s get to Metropolis,” Damian said, changing the subject while both got dressed. Jon nodded and offered his arms. “I’m not being carried like that. I’ll hold on your back,” Damian said. Jon rolled his eyes and nodded again.

As they flew over corn fields and pastures, Jon began to question Damian. “So when did you put this tracker in? Does she even know? Where is it? Do I want to even know?”

“It’s sub-dermal in her forearm and I haven’t told her yet. And it’s irrelevant right now as it might save her life,” Damian said and Jon looked disgusted. “We need to focus on saving her and then you can be her angry brother.”

“Wow...”

————————————

You moved and the cuffs burned your skin. You gasped and screamed “Jon! Kon!” You called out to them hoping one of them would hear you.

“Dad!” you cried frantic. There was no way he would hear you. “Damian! Jonathan! Conner!”

You panted and your head pounded. You were so tired. You’d lose consciousness if no one saved you. Then who knows what they would do to you.

“Superman!” You screamed desperately before finally passing out.

——————————

“Did you hear that?” Jon said as they flew towards the Metropolis skyline.

“No all I hear is wind. What did you hear?” Damian said.

“Y/n. She’s calling for us,” Jon said speeding up.

“Is she okay?” Fear bled into Damian’s voice.

“I can’t tell. I’m trying to hurry,” Jon said flying quickly towards the industrial area of the city. He landed on the roof of a warehouse. Jon’s eyes glowed as he looked through the building.

“7 men. 4 posted outside the door to the room that’s she’s being held on the 2nd floor. Her heart rate is steady and she isn’t screaming any more. Almost sounds asleep,” Jon said after his analysis.

“Probably tranquilizer. Father’s data said this building is used for research purposes. Does that fit?” Damian asked.

“Uh more like research subject holding. Maybe a small lab on the first floor but other than cameras everywhere, there isn’t much science stuff that I can scan. But also the basement is sealed off,” Jon said.

“How?”

“Lead bound. You can check it out while I rescue her. 4 guys is nothing,” Jon said making a fist.

“Hold on. Luthor would probably have her surrounded by Kryptonite. Just in case one of you look for her. And that’s the last thing we need,” Damian said. “I’ll rescue her and you look for the basement. Knowing Luthor, it’s probably an entire facility of experiments below. He just hadn’t gotten her room ready yet.”

Jon looked frustrated. “Fine. You rescue her but be careful. She is the weakest of us. She’s not invulnerable to bullets or anything.”

“Most of the people I rescue aren’t either,” Damian reminded him. “And I’m certainly not taking a chance with my beloved.”

Jon looked over to respond but Damian was already gone. Just like the rest of the bats: silent goodbyes. Jon quietly moved down to the first floor. He was working but at the same time, his ear was trained on his sister’s heartbeat. Jon might be the younger sibling but she didn’t have powers and he felt so protective.

—————————————

Damian rolled his eyes at the 5 ways he could see that the security sucks in the 3 minutes he hung out the window before climbing in. Large rafters and guards who didn’t bother to look up. Not to mention the fact that they let there be a solid wall between the set of guards which meant that Damian was easily able to jump down to knock them out in pairs without the other set knowing. If the security was any worse they would leave the door unlocked.

The door wasn’t unlocked but it was a deadbolt that Damian easily disabled. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was on purpose. He gulped before opening the door. What if you were really hurt? Or dead? Ignore and get in there.

Damian opened the door and he felt white hot rage. You were tied to a bed and were unconscious. You were in a nice dressy shirt and sweatpants. They’d clearly taken you while you were getting dressed. Damian wanted to kill them. He had to take a breath to help you. Jon was taking them out and Damian was on rescue. He had to stay level headed.

Even the cuffs on your wrists were inadequate. If they had attempted to restrain Damian, he would have gotten out in 3 minutes. When he was 6 years old. The Kryptonite had left nasty red burns on your skin and he clenched his jaw at the sight. Jon better be punching extra hard.

Damian picked you up bridal style and you groaned a little before turning your head against his chest. The farther he got you from that fucking Kryotonite the better you were. He took you to the roof and you started waking up.

“Damian,” you said softly and a little confused.

“Hey you’re awake. How are you feeling?” He asked looking all over your face for injury.

“Kryptonite. I hate that stuff,” you said. Damian grabbed your hand and you hissed. He looked to see bright red knuckles. You’d clearly fought at some point. He certainly knew the signs of punching someone.

“You fought back?”

“Yeah and hitting someone in a helmet and body armor sucks. I got just a few in before they pulled out the damn rock. I throw up every damn time,” you said shaking your head.

Before Damian could comment on how brave and stupid it was to punch body armor, there was a huge crash down on the first floor as someone flew in the building through the window. You grabbed him tightly.

“What the hell is that?”

“Kon. Conner’s here. I’m up here,” you yelled.

Conner flew up to the roof. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Kidnapped. Damian and Jon saved me. He’s still down there actually. Can you check on him?” You said. Damian suddenly stood up.

“What if you were a distraction and the real problem is downstairs?” Damian suddenly said with clarity. The Kryptonite alone was enough to hold you down. The half ass security was to hold their attention when they rescued you. Jon was already flying back down before Damian could say more. Damian weighed his options: leave you alone, bring you with him, or stay out of it and while the last sounded nice, he’d have to go in case of more Kryptonite.

Before Damian could decide, Kon was back on the roof. “You’ve got to come see this.”

Downstairs was a lead lined basement. That alone had you nervous. Jon stood by the door. Little spattering of blood could be seen on his hands. He had a hard look.

“Warning: this is going to be messed up,” he said and you were even more worried. You walked in to see cages. Kids. Unconscious adults lay around in the hallway. “They were experimenting on them.”

You felt nauseous.

“My father is on the way. This is much bigger than I thought,” Damian said messing with his comms. His free hand was on your shoulder protectively.

There were 8 kids in cages. Bruce was running tests on their blood and investigating the area as you helped to get them out of the cages. What a terrible Valentine’s Day.

“Beloved, let’s get you home. We can stay at the farm tonight. You need sleep,” Damian said worried. You looked at him distracted.

“They’re just kids.”

“Come on. Let’s go. Kon is going to stay there too. Just for the night,” Damian said helping you up. Kon flew you both back to the farm.

“I’m going back to help. You okay, kid,” Kon asked as Damian inspected the house.

“I’ll be alright. Just help those kids,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said ruffling your head. You rolled your eyes. “But seriously, the way you screamed I thought you were being murdered.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kon knew when to quit. Something he had learned from Tim. He gave you a big hug and flew off towards Metropolis.

“Hey. I made your bed so you can sleep,” Damian said quietly. “And a change of clothes.”

You nodded and went upstairs. Damian helped pull off your shirt and put on a sweater. He looked at the marks around your wrist and red knuckles but didn’t note any more bruises or cuts. You pulled on sweatpants and climbed in small twin bed that Lois kept for guests. The pink and yellow flowery quilt felt warm and comforting on your skin. Damian lay beside you after changing and looked at you seriously.

“What is it,” you asked.

“I was so scared tonight. I have been doing this for years and I’ve never been so worried,” he said softly and you looked down and flushed. If you weren’t so freaking sensitive to Kryptonite this wouldn’t have happened. Damian gently lifted your chin and you looked at him.

“I was scared to lose you,” he said running his thumb across your cheek. “I’m going to drive you absolutely mad because I don’t want to take my eyes off of you.”

“Yeah?” You said with a little smile.

“Uh hm. But first sleep,” he said and your body certainly agreed. You curled into him and rest your head on his chest. His arms held you tightly before rubbing your back. You fell asleep to Damian staring at you. He stared at you all night, not even sleeping when Kon came in a few hours later.

———————————

“I have to know what all that was, Bruce,” you said at the Batcave the next day. “I was in there.”

He looked at you for a minute. “They were experimenting with meta DNA. All of those kids have gifts and they wanted to take you too. There were even plans to inject those kids with your blood to see if it would affect them.”

You shivered a little at the thought. Lex Luthor and his obsession with Kryptonian DNA.

“All the records were burned. Most of the warehouse too. Your brothers were.... thorough. And Clark will be home in a few days,” Bruce added.

“Really?”

“Yes. And he’s furious at Luthor. Probably will call soon. He wanted to let you sleep earlier. We’re just running programs here. Why don’t you and Damian go upstairs,” he suggested.

“Bruce Wayne,” came a stern voice behind you. You turned to see your mother, Lois Lane, looking like she was going to beat up Batman. “You put a tracker in my daughter without her permission?”

“You what?” You said.

“Actually that was Damian. Though I want to point out that it helped save her life,” Bruce added. Lois slapped him soundly across the cheek. Bruce just blinked and rubbed his cheek.

“Damian, you put a tracker in me?” You asked shocked. You’d assumed Jon had heard you or Damian’s detective work brought them to the warehouse. Not an invasive tracker in your body. “What the hell?”

“Well I can explain..”

[diamond-coral]

The Heist- Part One

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

You were just supposed to rob a government official’s apartment. Not Captain America’s. Right?

Series Warnings: Dark, Rape/Non-Con, kidnapping, strip club stuff, swearing

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of a strip club, swearing, committing crime ig, nothing much really.

You sure as hell weren’t a criminal. Well- your record would say otherwise, but it’s not like this was your dream profession. You wouldn’t call yourself a criminal. More of a Walmart Robin Hood; stealing from the rich and giving too...well...yourself. Fine. You were a criminal. But a girl had to pay the bills. At least you got to stick it to the man, right?

You let out a sigh while evaluating your life choices. It wasn’t every little girl’s dream to be breaking into houses and apartments for some cash or valuable possessions. Technically, you were an artist by day, going to art school in New York, living the aesthetically pleasing dream of student loans and a sky-high rent that your shifts at the strip club were hardly making a dent in. But hey, at least one time you got to dance for Captain America, even if he was reluctant and a bit shy. You were certain very few women could say the same.

And that’s how you found yourself in the elevator of a cozy apartment complex, traveling upward toward your new objective. Bella, your roommate, literal partner in crime, and the only good thing that came out of socializing with your coworkers at the club, had given you a new lead of a man who was supposedly loaded and yet lived in an accessible and modest living space. He was single, and worked some sort of political job that left his apartment constantly vacant, specifically on the day you planned for your heist. A perfect target. Some corrupt government worker who wanted to live a ‘low profile life’ yet was dumb enough to settle down in a complex who’s only security was a couple cameras and guards. Bella would easily be able to freeze the frames on the cameras for an hour, giving security the false pretense that the hallways were empty and giving you the perfect window to snatch some fancy watches and some cash.

The elevator doors opened right as you received a text message from Bella.

Cameras taken care of. Now go pay our rent ;)

You exited the elevator only to collide with a blonde woman carrying a laundry basket.

“Oh god, I’m so clumsy I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed while bending down to pick up the clothes that had fallen out of the basket.

You bent down to help her collect her clothing. “No, I’m so sorry! That was completely my fault!” You offered a smile as you stood back up, but was met with a calculating gaze as she studied you.

“I’m sorry, are you new around here?” She seemed to catch herself and her demeanor changed. “It’s just, I’ve never seen you around here before.” She gave  a small smile.

“Oh ,I’m just a girlfriend!” you replied. “Just stopping by.”

“Are you Steve’s girlfriend?” she asked while gesturing to the door at the end of the hallway with her head. It was your target’s door. So the political scumbag’s name was Steve. Lovely. “I don’t think he’s home right now.”

Your brain churned out a fast response. “Yeah, I know. Unfortunately for me, he’s always working. I just left my purse, and he gave me his keys to stop by and pick it up.”

“Well I’m just glad he’s found someone with all his work. I know it’s been hard for him.”

The two of you exchanged one last goodbye smile before she stepped into the elevator.

“I’m Sharon by the way. And you are...?”

“Olivia,” you replied, the fake name came out as a second nature as the elevator doors closed.

You let out the breath you’d been holding. 

“Well that could’ve gone worse,” you mutter to yourself as you approach the door at the end of the hallway.

You slipped the lock picker out of your sleeve before checking your surroundings cautiously. A minute after proceeding to insert the pick into the lock, a soft click resounded from the wooden door, and it easily swung open with a turn of the knob.

As you entered through the doorway, you took into account the little bits of vintage decoration that was dispersed amongst more modern furniture. A small Uncle Sam poster, a couple of war antiques, and some old photos with figures that remained unrecognizable in the distance. This government official seemed to have fought either in World War II or Vietnam, probably making him old. You shuddered at the fact you’d called yourself his girlfriend, but Sharon hadn’t seemed to bat an eye. Either way, you didn’t care for antiques, as much as they would have sold for a hefty price. They were probably personal to him and as you walked around, you realized there were quite a few personal items that were no use for you. As you walked into the bedroom a glint from the dresser caught your eyes, and your chest filled with giddiness and excitement as you neared. Three beautiful watches were on display under the mirror that sat atop the dresser. A Cartier that would probably sell for 8,000, a Rolex that would go for 10,000 easily, and then a beautiful older Rolex. With careful hands you snatched up the two newer watches and placed them into the small knapsack you’d been carrying. After consideration, you decided to leave the older one as it probably held a sentimental value and wouldn’t give you as much money as the other two.

You walked around some more, occasionally picking up valuables like solid gold tie clips and little pieces of Stark technology, which you were surprised he had. You had to be filthy rich to support, much less afford, anything made by that war profiteer. You picked up stashes of cash lying around, which seemed to be a lot. This man definitely seemed to use cash more than credit card which wasn’t as common around people your age. As you were rummaging around his study for any pieces of fine art (which you had already gotten two of) or government documents you could sell on the black market, you knocked over a picture frame which had landed on a file that read CLASSIFIED in red letters...right under the six letters that spelled S.H.I.E.L.D. This fucker was a S.H.I.E.L.D official. You were gonna kill Bella for the vague intel.

“Shit I need to get out of here,” you mumbled. Senators and representatives were fine targets, all usually too old and skeevy for you to care about, but a S.H.I.E.L.D. official was dangerous and could get you somewhere worse than jail. Hell, you could’ve accidentally broken into Nick Fury’s place. You were screwed. So screwed. And you needed to get the hell out of this apartment. As you went to put the picture back, you glanced at it, before doing a double take and squinting at it in the dark room. Oh. This was much worse than accidentally breaking into Nick Fury’s place.

The two men laughing with an arm around each other in war uniforms with an arm around one another was innocent enough until you could finally make out their faces. Steve Rogers an easy enough one to make out, especially considering you were on his lap a couple weeks ago, and James Buchanan Barnes looked practically unrecognizable without a murderous glare on his face.

“No,” you muttered before quickly placing the picture back down. 

You once again assessed your surroundings. It all made sense. The subtle 1940’s vibe, the war antiques. Bella had said he did work for the government and that wasn’t a lie. In the corner of the room you spotted a large circular leather case that was partially unzipped. Through the slight opening of the brown leather, the red, blue, and glinting bright silver was unmistakable.

“No, no, no, fuck,” you muttered frantically as you checked your watch. You still had 38 minutes before the security cameras in the hall unfroze. That was enough time to put everything you stole back. You’d much rather work open to close shifts at the club every day for three months straight than get fucked over by Captain Fucking America. 

You scrambled out of the study, moving to the living room first to put back the authentic paintings. You grabbed a stool from the high bar counter in the kitchen so you could rehang the medium sized work of art. Your mind was racing. This had to be karma for all the horrible shit you’d done in the past. God decided he had enough of your delinquent shenanigans and set you marching straight into the arms of America’s righteous hero. As you finished hanging the painting you spun around on your heel, completely forgetting you were on a wobbly wooden stool. Your heart stopped for a moment before you regained your footing. Carefully climbing down the stool, you almost missed the subtle turn of a lock coming from the door.

Oh you were so done for. Your limbs flew everywhere as you scrambled to the bedroom, sliding under the bed right as you heard the door open. The rumble of Steve Roger’s voice was clear as he talked on the phone and it cut through the walls from the living room.

“Well yea Buck, obviously Tony’s gonna be a little cold toward you. Not that I blame him. I’m just thankful he didn’t start an entire civil war over it. I guess it’s just a good thing we’re not war criminals.” He let out a chuckle before pausing. “Hey Buck? Yeah. I’m gonna have to call you back.” Another pause and you heard some rummaging around. “Why? I think my apartment was just broken into. I gotta go down to security. Yeah, thanks bud.” 

Steve hung up and you heard some angry muttering as he walked into his room. From under the bed you saw his tennis shoes and dark jeans as he paced at the foot of the bed. You covered your mouth to stop your anxious breathing, afraid he’d hear you from your hiding spot. 

The few minutes he spent in his room felt like eternity before he stomped out and you heard the opening and closing of another door as he exited the apartment. You crawl out from under the bed, your head spinning as you attempted to think of a way out of your predicament.

The window.

Quickly and quietly, you stood up and made your way to his bedroom window, looking out for a fire escape and letting out an annoyed huff when you saw none.

‘Maybe there’s one for the living room window,’ your brain chimed.

You rushed to the living room, scooping up the two watches and your empty knapsack on your way, and almost screamed with joy at the sight of the fire escape next to the window. Your fingers curled around the bottom of it and give it a sharp tug up, opening it just enough for you to squeeze through. 

Just as you were about to lift your leg over the ledge and climb down the stairs to sweet sweet freedom, being able to forget about everything that ever happened tonight, a large hand wrapped around the back of your neck and wrenched you back with such force that you tumbled backwards and landed on your butt.

He was massive. Six feet of pure muscle towered over you as you trembled from your position on the floor. He squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees as he took you in, blue eyes practically cutting through the darkness, and you let out a small whimper.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you stealing is wrong?”

[valeskakingdom]

Request

Could I request a part 3? Jerome keeps the reader as his hostage for popularity and attention. Reader is really fond of the attention she gets as well and eventually sleeps with Jerome again? In the end she sees how Galavan kills him and is really sad?

Requested by @violentvaleska

For sure!! But again I gonna split this part in 2 because I noticed it would have been too long instead ahaha. I try to hurry with part 4!! Honestly, it's really cool to write oneshots!

And here it is:

Jerome x female reader (part 3)

Warning: mention of sex, depression and death

Word count: 3459

Gift credit: @jokersbabe27

"And here is our bedroom!" Jerome opened another wooden door and lead you into it.

You were irritated by his assertion 'our bed'. You weren't a couple or something. He just kidnapped and called you his property.

You examined the room. White pained walls, claret velvet curtains, a king size bed with while pillows and blankets, and some furnishungs. It didn't look that bad, much better than your little apartment.

"It's...pretty." You gave him a short smile hoping he would believe your faked comfortableness.

Actually you didn't feel well about that. You were around lunatics who either killed or are people...and you, you were the only sane one. You were clearly a victim for them. Sooner or later they would cause you problems.

You started to think about all the cruel things they could do to you in case, Jerome was not there: they could scare you away, haunt you for fun, or...leaving their sexual needs out on you. It was horrible, you literally lived in hell now.

The worse part was on it: you would be a loner if Jerome was gone. A nobody. Nobody would help you. Hell, they'd probably just mock at you that Jerome's property was just an anxious fool and that they couldn't understand what Jerome liked about you so much - you didn't even understand it. You were just a one off.

"But uhm...Jerome?" You turned to him.

"Yes, doll?" Jerome gave you a wide smile glaring at you with his big blue eyes.

"I need clothes... And all my clothes are in my apartment and-..." You knew you couldn't go back.

Not because of him and all your feelings for him- oh no, you wished you could go to your friend to forget the moment where Jerome frightened you to death. His permanent mood changes exhausted you a lot. On your way to his hostage, he made everyone clear that you were his property. No one was allowed to touch you nor to talk to you...They weren't even allowed to look at you. It was crazy. You should just belong to him, he was literally crazy about you.

So yeah, you couldn't go. If you went away, he'd chase you...and if he caught you, you'd probably end up dead.

"You don't need your old clothes, doll." He walked to one of the shelves and opened it: Lacy underwear, seemingly expensive but nice dresses, and some shirts with pants filled it.

"Uhm-..." Before you could say anything, you were interrupted by an older man in a black tuxedo and yelled dark brown hair.

You knew this man: Theo Galavan, the one coming into office of Gotham's major.

But what does he have to do with all the lunatics? And why were they living in his tower? It confused you a lot. In the TV, he seemed to be a good guy. Rich, clever, apparently cared Zabout all citizen's wealth. He wanted to safe the city, or even makes it a better place for everyone.

Your feeling told you though, he was the total opposite: a villain who wants to reign over Gotham.

Why else would he keep lunatics in his tower?! You thought.

"Jerome," Theo Galavan slowly stepped forward with a grin in his face, his hands were folded into each other "I see, you show our new guest her new hostage." He turned to you "I'm Theo Galavan, call me Theo."

"(Y/n)." You gave him a nervous smile.

"I'm sorry, you've been arrived during such ordinary circumstances." He placed his hand on his chest "It wasn't planned to scare you away. But I think we both know Jerome's little tick for an overdramatic show, don't we?"

"O-ohhh, yeah, uhm... it's... it's fine?...yeah," You stammered a little while trying "It was uhm... adventurous." You chuckled nervously completely ignoring his little question.

"Indeed," Theo chuckled darkly rubbing his palms, then he walked a few steps to Jerome and whispered something in his ear. You couldn't understand what he was saying though. You just felt uncomfortable about two people talking behind your back but right in front of you. You just could see Jerome nodding with a grin as both looked at each other. Something was wrong, that you can tell.

"Anyways," Theo turned around with a smile in his face "I leave you two alone now. Some privacy should be appropriated. It was a pleasure to meet you (Y/n) and welcome home." He shut the door and left our room before you could say anything.

"That guy's amazing, did I tell you? If you know him, you'll understand me. He's a big authority and-..."

"What did he tell you?" You interrupted him giving him a stern look "It was about me, wasn't it?" You didn't know where you've got that brave from. Maybe because you were a little scared about what exactly Theo whispered into Jerome's ear?

"I really hate it when some interrupts me..." Jerome grumbled giving you a death stare, his bearing was cramped and he clenched his fists; it looked like he was about to kill you every minute "It's very impolite to interrupt someone, don't you think?"

You couldn't say anything so you just nodded quickly in panicking and fear. More and more you just wanted to go home. You wished you never took the bus to your friend, instead you just could've ask them to hook you up then you wouldn't have been here.

You really didn't want to live like that: being frightened from your oh so called partner because he could kill you every time you were doing a mistake in his eyes.

"Good," but then his death stare and cramped bearing faded instantly and as always he gave you a warm smile "Now to answer your question..." Jerome grabbed your waist pulling you close to him, his nails were dug in your skin that it almost hurt a little "He and I made a little deal before I...you know...kidnapped you."

"And what for a deal?" You frowned confused.

"You should stay here telling nobody about him keeping me and the others here and so on...because if not he kills you." He chuckled louldy "Isn't that fun? He really thinks he can kill you."

You widened your eyes in shock and fear. You hoped you haven't heard it right. Theo will kill you if you lose any word about this here? You won't be able to go back to your home? To message your friends? Nothing?

More and more you felt like a prisoner...and more and more you felt like an object than a human. You were pressured, they decided everything for you... practically your only task was to entertain Jerome...however he wanted it.

"Don't worry, doll, he won't even dare to lay a finger on you." Jerome grabbed your cheeks softly and leaned his forehead against yours, his lips hovered over yours "Because I am the boss. Really no one wants me to be mad because you know... they'll end up dead."

He pressed his lips on yours roughly, his grip on your cheeks tightened. His tongue slipped into your mouth while he nibbled on your lower lip. You let out a little moan in arousal. As if it was a reflex you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck.

Jerome's hands wandered down; along your breasts what made you shiver and gasp, his hands stopped at your waist.

"I almost forgot the feeling when I touch your soft lips doll." Jerome interrupted the kiss and let out a sigh in arousal throwing his head back.

You blushed hard, a slight giggle escaped your lips.

With this kiss, Jerome calmed you down a lot. It let you remind of that one special night again: the butterflies in your stomach, the happiness... You could say, for a short moment you almost forgot about his craziness and him being a murderer.

On the other hand, you still felt strange about the whole thing. A criminal was obsessed with you, his obsession was that big that no one was allowed to do anything with you...and also that you couldn't go back to your friends... You didn't like it at all. Your friends were more important to you than Jerome. You knew them for years and him... You've just met once.

Jerome kissed you again deeply, then he made his way down your jawline to your neck. You let out a little moan as he kissed started to suck on your sweet spot. His hands travelled under your shirt up to your bra clip to open it. You unbottoned his shirt and ripped it off his body while he tugged your bra from your body. You felt him biting your neck, first slightly then harder. It hurt a little and you knew that you'd be marked sooner or later - but you didn't mind. You knew what was coming right now. It was exactly like the first time you two had sex.

Jerome ripped your shirt off from your body and then stopped every single actions. He was eyes you, he stared at every little part of your body. He was like a wild animal staring at its prey and just waited for the perfect moment to catch it.

It made you shiver, but you loved it anyhow. It was very new but you could get used to it.

"Oh, how I missed that view," Jerome bit his lip with lust still viewing your whole body "Time to make up that whole year."

Jerome grabbed you by your waist and literally threw you into the king size bed right behind you. He was so eager to rip your clothes from your body to feel all this pleasure he has felt one year ago. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his, to hear you moans every time he thrusted into you, he wanted to be into you. He couldn't wait for it, so violently he unbottoned your jeans literally ripped them off your body.

You blushed hard. You were excited, surprised, but still you felt uncomfortable. You wondered whst was happening now. Does he expect any dirty kinks from you? Calling him daddy? Any pet names? Or other ordinary kinks?

You hoped for the best, you hoped nothing would have changed and you could just go on.

Jerome grabbed your face again and kissed you deeply nibbling on your lower lip. While that he pulled down your panties and inserted a finger into your cunt. You let out a sharp moan and your hips bucked quickly through the strong intensity of him hitting your sweet spot. You couldn't help but digging you nails in the sheets of his bed and arching your back as he speeded up.

He was rougher with you than before, almost violently. It hurt and was fast but it felt so good at the same time. You started liking it even more than the soft stuff one year ago. Your pleasure was stronger and him being rough kind of turned you on.

Jerome inserted another finger into your wet entrance what let you moan a little louder and your hips bucked.

Jerome curled up his fingers inside you harder and faster what made you moan louder. You grabbed the sheets of the bed tight to handle this big amount of pleasure.

Your back arched as he hit your g spot for another time. There again, you had this incredible feeling, all the upcoming pleasure in your body caused you a cribbing feeling in your abdomen that spread through your limbs up to your shoulders - this time it was much more intense though. Your core was aching and you became needy for his cock. Indeed, you were well pleasured but you want more. You wanted him to bury his member inside of you, filling up every inch of your cunt, making you scream and cum over and over again.

All your sorrows and worries disappeared all of a sudden. You didn't do anything for it; You just had eyes for Jerome and how he'd make you done undome several times. You didn't care about whether the others would hear you or not, you didn't care whether you'd rip the sheets apart or vice versa. You didn't care about anything.

You bit your lip in pleasure after you let out a loud moan as you noticed you were close.

Jerome pressed his thumb on your clit while continuing to pleasure you making you gasp. Your moans became louder and it became harder to hold them back. They way he did it just made you feel so good.

"Close already, huh?" Jerome pressed his thumb harder on your clit rubbing it in circling motions "Come for me, doll." His eyes kept staring on you. He loved hearing you moan his name through all the pleasure he was giving you. It aroused him much more than usual. He missed you and all this - he really did. The things that happened in his cell were nothing compared to you.

"Ahh fuck!" Right after he finished his sentence you released yourself with a lot cry.

The sweat was dripping down your forehead, you breathed heavy and uneven, and your legs were shaking and felt weak.

It was amazing for you. You admitted to yourself how much you missed this and you now remembered how good he made you feel.

With his strength, Jerome turned you around on your stomach waisting no time.

You blushed hard being a little worried about what's coming next.

"On all four, kitten." You blushed harder and did what he said. You felt a little strange with that nickname, it was very new to you, and honestly you would have never expected that from Jerome. His first impression to was him being a soft guy who rather prefers the normal way of how sex goes like...and generally, he didn't seem to be a dominant and rough guy.

You heard him walking a few steps backwards taking something. You were a little afraid what was coming now. You were afraid that he was taking a knife or other kind of weapons to do with you some dirty acts.

"My, my, my...You have such a beautiful body, you know that kitten?" Suddenly you felt something cold and sharp wandering down your spine. It made you shiver and gasp. You knew it was a knife and you just waited until Jerome started to hurt you "How many boys might have touched you when I was absent?"

"N-no one...w-where-...." You stammered in fear hoping nothing bad will happen. You didn't know where he's got that from suddenly. Was he jealous? Was he 'scared' that you could have a boyfriend and that he needs to make a plan to kill him?

"You really want me to believe that?" Jerome unbottoned his jeans and grabbed your waist violently inserting his dick into your wet entrance "It sounds a little surreal, don't you think? Who would not betray a blood-thirsty and cold-hearted murderer who's busted in Arkham?"

He didn't move though. Instead he pulled pulled on your hair tight that your head fell back what are you moan again. But instantly, your breathe hitched as you felt a cold and sharp knife pressed on your throat. Now you were scared, almost panicking. You hoped he didn't slit your throat.

"You know, I'm not a fan telling me a lie." He pressed the knife harder against your throat. You cut feel how the sharp blade cut your thin skin. Your body shivered in fear, your pulse was running and your breath was uneven. It felt like every minute could be your last one, it was just a matter of time until he killed you.

"I-I would n-never lie to you." You stammered quickly "H-honestly, I j-just though about y-you..." It was the truth. You really did. The whole year where Jerome was gone you didn't even think of dating a boy or of a simple one off. You were too much stuck in your thoughts about him, how he was doing, what he has become...

"Is that so?" Jerome didn't really sound convinced what let you panicking more.

"Y-yes," You gulped because you knew what you had to say now: you had to say you liked him "You J-Jerome...the l-last year was...i-it was hard for me b-because-..."

"Because?" You felt how the blade was pressed deeper in your skin and slightly moved to make a longer cut in your throat.

"Well," You gasped as Jerome stopped moving the blade "I-I....like y-you..."

This was not completely true but not completely wrong, as well. You did like him, but the old him more. You weren't scared of the old Jerome, you liked him being soft and kind...not frightening with this permanent changing behavior.

He said nothing at first, you could just feel his grin against your ear.

He put the blade aside what let you sigh in relief. You calmed down a little seeing the blade on the floor.

"I know, doll." His head moved from your ear, his hands were both placed on your waist.

And again, he started to thrusted violently into your wet entrance. You swore with a loud moan and arched your back.

Immediately, Jerome speeded up permanently pushing you against him to drill his member deeper into your cunt. His nails were dug into your waist what made you biting your lip.

Your whole body felt weak with every thrust he did into you. You body shivered slightly through this overwhelming pleasure. Every thrust hurt more, each of your moans became louder. Your nails were dug into the sheets of the bed deeply but still the pleasure he was giving you was too much. You couldn't handle it.

You moaned louder, almost uncontrollably, then your body gave in and you slightly collapsed in the bed.

Jerome though didn't waist no time - he kept drilling his member into you, grabbed your hair and pulled you upwards by your hair again.

"Oh my God, Jerome!" You cried out in pleasure while your legs shivered.

"So eager for my cock, you little slut, aren't we?" Jerome grunted and speeded up a third time.

You moaned louder, almost screamed. You felt how your walls clenched against his cock - you were close. You didn't know whether you could hold it back. It all was too much for you. You felt a knot in your stomach that was built up. It hardened with every thrust Jerome did.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-...!" You almost screamed digging your nails deeper in the sheets of the bed as you came. You couldn't even finish your sentence. With a few more thrusts, Jerome came as well.

You both collapsed on the bed. He still laid on you not even pulling out his member.

Silence filled the room for a while, just your gasps for air broke it here and there.

You felt Jerome's warm breathe on your skin every time he breathed out.

You closed your eyes for a moment enjoying this half broken silence.

Many thoughts crashed in your head together:

You told Jerome that you liked him and he surely will take advantage of it. Maybe he wants to force you to violent things like shooting at people or hurting them otherwise? And every time, you refuse he'd tell you stupid stuff like but I thought you like me, doll. You kinda regret what you said because you knew it will have consequences.

Another point would be his now increasing obsession and possessiveness towards you. Now he had the final proof that you wanted to be his and no one could ruin him that. He could call you his property because you liked him which meant for him: you wanted to be with him, you wanted to be his queen of Gotham, you wanted to spread chaos with him. Everyone else was his rival.

But then you thought that on the other hand, it was okay to be his. Everyone knew crazy Jerome could probably be so no one wanted him to be mad, as he said. And so nothing would happen to you.

"Even better than the first time" Jerome rolled off of you staring at the ceiling for a while while taking deep breathes.

"I agree," You slightly chuckled.

"And doll, " Jerome grabbed your cheeks pressing his face against yours that his lips hovered over yours "Never forget who you belong to. We don't want things turning out bad, do we?"

"N-no." You shook your head fast.

"Good...because you're mine."

[jae-daddy]

Duff (3)

jaebum au series

one / two  / three / four masterlist  

gifsource: @magiccastles​ 

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! i guess too now plot:  you are the duff, and guys use you to get close to your bestfriend, turns out jaebum was no exception. but as time goes on the tension between you and your bestfriend’s unoffical boyfriend grows a/n: this is as much as a ride for me as it is for you lol. i just start writing and let words take me somewhere and then i just say i guess that’s it in the end. hope y’all enjoy it <3 not edited.

“Did you hear,” Naina crept up behind you, making you jump slightly. She laughed before shooting you a cheeky grin and continuing, “the Chairman’s son is joining the office today?”

“Really?” You turned to her, as you waited for the papers to copy behind you.

You weren’t that interested, all you wanted to do was get out of here and rest for a bit before starting on your assignment due next week. This internship was really time-consuming, but you couldn’t really complain because so many other students would kill to work at this firm.

“A hundred per cent. I know he’s rich and all that,” she waved her hands around hastily to show how none of that mattered. “But that is not what makes him attractive. He actually looks good. Apparently, he was a delinquent, and is just returning home after starting up a new business.”

“He’s still the boss’ son,” you scrunched your face in distaste. While the old man was a dilf, you hated nepotism, and people only giving opportunities to those who had ample of it.

“He was scouted,” Naina pouted defensively.

“How do you know?” You shot her a pointed look, as the machine stopping whirring.

“The process was done by the shareholders and the Society, and you know how much they hate Chairman. Apparently, they didn’t know it was him when they scouted him,” Naina shrugged as she loaded her papers. “They had to chase him for almost five months before he agreed to a trial period.”

“A trial period?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise. You couldn’t deny that whoever the Chairman’s son was sounded pretty impressive, maybe you were being too prejudice.

You bit your lip as you watched Naina for a while, “Well, let’s hope he actually is a hottie. Who told you all this by the way?”

Naina turned to you with an apologetic look, “Pam.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes, walking away. Pam was notorious for her horrible taste in men.

“Hey y/n,” a head popped over your cubicle, making you look up tiredly. Your eyes wandered to the clock, one more hour left. “You’re needed in the conference room.”

“Note-taking?” You asked, getting up. The guy just shrugged before walking off.

You knocked on the door before entering the conference room, to find all the shareholders and the Chairman sitting around a table. You found Nina signalling you to come over.

“I bought my note-taking things,” you told Nina as you sat down beside her. You scanned the room to find impatient old men mumbling quietly to each other. “What’s going on?”

“They’re waiting for the new Director to show up,” Nina replied, her voice low as she leaned in. “He’s forty-five minutes late already.”

You shot her a surprised look before frowning, “It doesn’t look like anything much is happening here. Why was I called in?”

Nina just shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t know, Connor called for you, but he looks preoccupied.”

You looked over to your supervisor who was on the phone, a pained expression on his face evident on his face. You watched as he shut his phone before walking in hurried and long strides.

“I have to apologise, gentlemen,” Connor stopped at the front of the table, his actions anxious, but his voice steady. “But looks like the new Director, unfortunately, cannot meet us today, an emergency has occurred. He does send his apologies.”

The men, who you would have expected to be fuming, just nodded with understanding.

You were confused.

Instead of the shareholders, it was the Chairman who seemed to be fuming.

Before anyone could say anything else, he got up and walked out of the room. The others didn’t say anything or object, they just broke into little groups conversing. The meeting was over without achieving the goal but without any conflict.

“I guess it’s over,” Nina got up, brushing her skirt straight. You followed her actions, your eyes catching the clock.

“There are only twenty minutes left,” you peered at her with a pleading look. “May I have an early leave?”

Her eyes darted to Connor who was engaged in a very serious conversation and then back at your pleading face. “Okay, but if anyone asks, you had an emergency.”

“Yeah, I guess emergencies are easily accepted in this company these days,” you joked, making Nina spank your arm playfully.

It didn’t take you long to gather your things and get out of the building. You had been working here for just over two months, but you could navigate the building with your eyes closed. Your gaze was on your phone, checking for any updates from your team members for the upcoming project. Disappointment filled you once again when you saw endless bubbles of excuses dotting the group chat.

You sighed, reaching for the button to call the elevator when your fingers touched another.

“Oh my gosh,” you pulled your hand back on reflex, as you looked up. “I’m sorry.”

But as soon as your eyes met those glowing brown ones, you wished you could reel back the apology that fell from your lips. Your face turned into a sneer as you glared at him, “What are you doing here?”

Jaebum smirked at you in his signature cocky way. You hated how it made your core tingle, but at the same time made your blood boil. But the anger didn’t always mean to come out in violence. It begged to out in some ways so deviant, that you’d rather punch his arrogant smirk off than do things that to him that your mind imagined.

“You're stalking me now?” You folded your arms as you snorted at him. “Or did you get in trouble and need help now?”

“This is a financial firm, love,” Jaebum smiled at you, his arrogance taking over his entire being.

“Committed fraud then.” You bit back, thanking the elevator doors as they opened. You quickly walked in and pressed the closed button as Jaebum’s eyes watched at you. “Catch the next one, love.”

The doors were almost shut when he jammed his arm in the way. You winced as the doors clamped against him before opening slowly. You quickly masked your concern with annoyance as he strutted in holding his forearm.

You wanted to say something but bit your tongue as you rolled your eyes. In the end, you couldn’t hold yourself back, “You could’ve just waited for the next one.”

Jaebum smiled at you, knowingly. You hated it when he did that. He smiled at you, his brown eyes sparkling with humour as if he could see through you, and knew exactly what was going on in your head.

“I guess I’m a fool then.”

Your sharp eyes met his soft ones. You held them for a moment, your eyes blazing as you tried to figure out what he was doing. You knew why he said that.

He wasn’t a complete idiot then if he actually realised what you meant. He was a fool. He still is a fool. But him admitting it doesn’t undo what he had done. That he had chosen Heather over you, that he had screwed Heather.

You didn’t know what he was doing, what his game was. Did he have a sick fetish of doing friends? And then try to convince them into a threesome?

Your face must’ve revealed the disgust you were feeling because Jaebum laughed after a moment.

“What?” He smiled carefree leaning against the wall. You hated how unbelievably attractive he looked, even under these hideous fluorescent lights, Im Jaebum managed to look like the sexiest guy to have ever walked on this Earth.

You realised his normal piercings were missing. You watched as his tongue darted out from his pink lips, going to the familiar place where the lip ring would normally rest. He touched the ghost of it, his lips quirked and he just licked his lips before lifting an eyebrow.

“Where are your accessories?” You asked, you hated how haughty you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself. Jaebum somehow bought out the worst in you.

Jaebum grinned, biting his lips as if holding in a secretive laugh.

“I had to look professional, y/n.”

You groaned internally. You hated it more when he said your name so freaking sexily.

You wanted to hear him say it again and again. Say it with other dirty words that would leave his sinful lips as he thrust into you, as he pulled your hair. Say it as you took your time devouring his cock, whimper it as you made him beg for his release. You wanted to hear him moan it as he captured your lips in his, and pushed you against the wall.

Suddenly the elevator started to feel hot; the metal box becoming too small.

You quickly reached for the button, pressing it to open on the next floor.

You turned your back towards him, facing the doors.

You core tightened, as heat rose to your face.

You couldn’t stop imaging. You couldn’t stop thinking all the things that could happen in this stupid small little metal box. You couldn’t stop thinking about how the cool metal would feel against your back, against your bare breast as he pushed you against them while he pounded into you from behind.

Oh god. You needed to get out. Now. You furiously pressed the button a few more times, before standing right.

And then the lights flickered, the machines groaned. The lights blinked off, and the elevator stopped.

This was a literal nightmare. This wasn’t real.

You had to be dreaming for sure. This was all a dream, had to be one.

“Y/n!” You heard Jaebum’s panicked voice. You found feel him swimming through the darkness, his arms flailing around trying to find you.

“I’m here,” you called, walking next to him.

You were worried, but it was nothing compared to the shaking body you collided into.

“Jaebum?” You grabbed his cold hands in yours. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but you could feel him move.

“Okay,” you softly told him. “It’s okay, let's move backwards, okay? Until we hit the wall?”

He didn’t answer, but a disturbed meek left him, and you took that as a yes. Once your backs hit the wall, you began sliding down, bringing him down next to you.

Jaebum sat so close, his entire side was pressed against yours. He didn’t move away, but neither did you. You didn’t take your hand away from Jaebum gripped it as if his life depended on it.

You reached into your pocket, pulling out your phone. You turned on the flashlight and turned it towards Jaebum. He grunted, bringing a hand up to shield himself from the harsh light.

“Sorry,” you murmured, turning it to face the front. The light bounced off the shiny walls bringing in some light. “Are you better now?”

Jaebum nodded, and this time you could see.

“I need to press the emergency button,” you told him looking over at him. He just nodded, his eyes focusing on something, but his hands still grasping yours.

You slowly got up, still not talking your hand from his as you pressed the button. You had the ring for a few seconds, and then someone picked up.

“Hello?” you called, “We’re stuck in elevator 3.”

“We’re working on it,” the gruff voice replayed. “It won’t take long. How many are in the elevatory?”

“Just two people.”

“A'ight, wait a minute.” And then the line went dead and remained that way for almost twenty minutes.

“What’s taking those shitheads so fucking long?” Jaebum finally spoke breaking the silence that fell between you two. His hand still clutching yours. “You would expect a place like this to at least have a backup or faster services. But I guess not. Just a shithole company in this stupid place.”

He was talking nonsense. His words losing meaning as more angry and panicked words left him.

You gave his hand a little squeeze, and he stopped.

Jaebum turned to look at you, and you gave him a small smile.

His eyes that normally glistened with playfulness were glazed with fear and anxiety as he peered at you. He tried to give your smile back, but it came out as a nervous tightlipped look of panic.

“So, Im Jaebum,” you snorted lightly. Jaebum watched at you, his nervous eyes on you as if you were the only thing keeping him calm. And you were ready to bet that you were. “What’s your favourite season?”

“Really?” He snorted, the tiniest hint of his normal arrogance returning to his voice. “That’s what you want to talk about before we die?”

You bit back your laugh and shot him a glare.

“Summer,” he answered gruffly.

You nodded, humming “Summer.”

“You are someone who enjoys being happy.” Jaebum rolled his eyes at that. “You seek happiness, you like thinking back to good memories instead of bad ones. You don’t have many regrets and the ones you have don’t last for long because you rectify them as soon as you realise. You like being shown love, affection; the more you receive it, the more you thrive. You cherish friendship and loyalty above all, but not really because of the person. The person can change, but the memories you share with them is what keeps your loyalty going.”

Jaebum just snorted as he ran his free hand through his hair. The soft strands falling in all directions as he snickered at you, “Where’d you steal that from? Buzzfeed quizzes?”

“Hey!” You hit his arm in spite, a pout on your lips with full offence. “I came up with that myself! I have one for all seasons.”

Jaebum just laughed, and you tried your best to suppress the smile on your lips.

“What about the rest,” Jaebum asked after a long moment, “How would you describe the rest?”

“What you like is what you get,” you shrugged smugly.

“So what are you?” He asked, his eyes watching you intently.

“I’m Autumn,” your cheeks heated under his gaze. You prayed your blush was covered in the darkness. You gulped nervously when you felt him not look away. “And Heather! She’s a summer too.”

Jaebum hummed in reply, finally looking away.

“Okay, what’s your favourite number?” Jaebum asked.

“Two.”

“No! Don’t tell me! Do it again,” he groaned, making you chuckle at his silliness. You nodded, thinking of a number. “Okay now add two to it.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks to stop yourself from smiling like a complete idiot at how adorable he was being. You knew exactly what he was doing, but you didn’t have it in you to stop him when he sounded so eager.

“Okay, now minus it by the number you first thought of,” he told you watching you with a grin. You nodded, telling him you were done. “Add five, minus two.

“The number you are left with is,” he grinned at you, and this time you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling seeing his happiness. “Five!”

“Oh my god!” You faked, the smile not going anywhere. “How did you know?!”

“Magic,” he shrugged, smiling so proudly. But that smile didn’t last long as the elevator groaned and you felt it fall a bit. “Fuck.”

His hand was squeezing yours so tightly you were sure it will cut off your blood circulation, but you didn’t stop him. You held his hand back and watched him as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the metal with a groan.

“Hey, Jaebum,” you called, making his shifty eyes look to you. “It’ll be okay. We’ll be fine-”

“My ass, fine,” he cut you off with panic. “We’re going to die here.”

“Come on,” you rolled your eyes, about to tell him he was overreacting when the elevator jerked down again. You yelped as you clung onto Jaebum, who wrapped his free arm around you tightly.

“I don’t want to die like this,” Jaebum moaned, his voice breaking. You closed your eyes as you gripped his jacket tighter. “There’s so much I want to do. I want to skydive.”

“You’ve already done that,” you told him, your eyes still shut tight.

“Oh right, I have,” he breathed. “Okay, then I guess I want to take you out on a date.”

“Jaebum,” you warned him, your voice low and tight. “We’re about to die, and you want to go down joking?”

“Well, you want to go down growling me,” he replied, his words hurried. “I’m not joking though, I want to. I really want to.”

“Why?” You almost yelled as the elevator dropped again.

“Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.” Jaebum chanted, his panic rising. You could feel his heat race underneath his jacket. You were sure yours was pounding just as hard and as fast as his. “I mean it. I really really want to. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since I saw you.”

“You are with Heather-AH!” The elevator dropped again, and tears filled your eyes.

“Okay. Okay. Okay,” you breathed, as you tried to calm yourself as tears burned your eyes. “If we’re being honest, I guess I do want to fuck you. But I wouldn’t want my last wish to be that-”

“Wait- what?” Jaebum broke you off, hope and surprise cutting through his nerves and panic. “You want to fuck me?”

You just nodded, about to tell him that it was just a last-minute shameful confession. It didn’t mean anything. You just wanted at least his last memories to be one that his arrogant self would enjoy, no matter how true they were.

The truth never hurt anyone anyways.

“I want to fuck you too.” Jaebum cried, holding you tighter, as the elevator went down again. “But I want to kiss you too, and take you out on a date.”

“What’s with you and dates?!” You cried back.

“I don’t know, but it’s just you,” Jaebum replied, his voice shaking. “You drive me crazy.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t want to admit that he drove you crazy too. Even though he was with your best friend, even when he chose Heather over you, you wanted him so much it physically hurt you.

“When I was little I told my dad to die,” you said softly, as tears fell from your eyes. “I didn’t mean it, dad. I’m sorry. I love you. Oh god, please keep my family safe and keep everyone happy.”

“You’re scaring me!” Jaebum cried.

“Don’t you want the last wish?”

“I already told you!”

“Are you for real?!”

“Yes! Deadly!” Jaebum answered, heated. “I want to take you out on a date! Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well we can’t go on a date now, can we?” You answered, your voice edged with anger.

“What about my other wish?”

“You want to fuck me?! Right now?!”

“No!” Jaebum cried as the elevator fell. “A kiss; a goodbye kiss I guess now.”

You stilled. You could do that. You could do as much.

The intervals between each fall lessening and you were sure soon you’d be plummeting down the levels to your death in a mere few seconds.

“Okay,” you breathed, and Jaebum stilled. “One kiss.”

Jaebum moved away from you and looked at your face.

“I-” he choked, his throat bobbing, as he nervously gulped. His eyes shaking from fear of the looming death, but also from fear of this moment. “I don’t want to pressure you or anything- I can change my last wish.”

“I want to.” You told him, your gazing dropping to his lips. You nodded, “I want to.”

Jaebum swallowed nervously as he brought his shaking hands to your face. Your hands held onto his wrist as his fingers gently brushed your skin. You gazed into his eyes, and even in the darkness, you could see them sparkle in golden wonder.

His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation as he slowly bought his lips down to yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his warm sweet breath fall onto your lips. You weren’t sure if it was the foreboding death or his sweet gentle touch and closeness that were reasons for the butterflies in your stomach, but you had a good suspicion it was the latter.

Jaebum’s soft lips lightly touched yours, so carefully, so softly as if you’d break away into a million whispers if he was too hard. Your fingers wrapped into his palms as you pressed your lips against his.

You felt his lips open, about to capture yours in a soft sweet gentle kiss when a loud crash followed by a loud voice interrupted your dizzying mind.

You jerked away from him as blinding light fell into the elevator, and a shadow appeared as the doors opened.

“You’re alive!” The gruff voice yelled. “Are you alright?”

You remained shocked for a moment, before blinking back to your senses, “Yes!” Yes!”

“Alright, hold on a minute.”

It took ten more minutes to get the door opened and a ladder down to help you out.

You didn’t look at Jaebum.

You ignored the cold burning on your hand that Jaebum had been holding. You ignored the tingling of your lips, and the butterflies in your tummy, every time you thought of that whisper of a kiss.

You didn’t look at him when he climbed out behind you.

You watched the others and saw their faces pale when they saw him brush his jacket straight.

“Sir!” The gruff voice cried, almost bowing. You looked around saw all of them shake with fear. “I-”

The man couldn’t complete his sentence, as he shook in fear, his eyes low.

You turned back to Jaebum confused, “What’s the fuss?”

“Y/n!” You heard Naina call, before grabbing your elbow and pulling you away. You shot her a confused look, making her give you a horrified one in return. She pointed to the screen on the wall, and there you saw him.

Im Jaebum flashing on the screen, Director of Mediana Firm.

You turned back to Jaebum who gave you a cheeky wink. Your mouth fell open as Naina dragged you away.

“No way.” You muttered.

“Exactly! No way you got trapped with the new hot Director!” Naina cheered, her cheeks blushing for you. She giggled as you blinked processing everything.

“God,” you finally spoke, “I guess Pam wasn’t wrong this time.”

[hiinnys]

savior complex

(i don’t really know what this is, but it can also be found on ao3!)

he doesn’t entirely know what convinces him to buy it, but if there’s anything the solid gold cauldron incident of ‘91 taught him, it’s that he can be a bit of an impulsive buyer. and this time there’s no hagrid with him to tell him to be a bit more reasonable in his purchases.

which is exactly how he ends up at ron and hermione’s flat, knocking on the door at six o’three p.m., asking hermione how to charm an iPod to sustain itself around magic. for her part, hermione gives him a look that harry takes roughly to mean just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy useless shit, then proceeds to teach him how to charm the iPod. the pair then spend the better part of the next three hours teaching ron what the hell an iPod even is.

when harry finally makes it home that night, he’s got a smile on his face and a catalogue of songs to load up on the device in his head.

**

“how does the music come out of it?”

“same way music comes out of the radio, gin.”

“ok, but how do you get the music in it?”

“you have to download it.”

“what the fuck does that even mean?”

it takes him a good minute to stop laughing. “i’ll teach you,” he promises.

**

he pops his headphones in when he’s running, let’s the music wash over him as he jogs mile after mile. it’s good for him, he thinks. reminds him that there’s no one chasing after him anymore, no green light he’s running towards. reminds him that he could run forever and there would be no fallout. he could disappear into himself and it would be alright. he would be missed, maybe, but not needed.

it’s a strange peace, harry thinks, to not be needed.

**

“no offense, potter, but your music taste is shite.”

he’s cooking dinner - some recipe mrs. weasley saw in witch weekly that had ‘reminded her of him,’ or so she had said at dinner last week - when ginny comes strolling in, clad in a harpies jumper and a pair of his boxers, iPod in hand.

“ouch,” he teases, eyes glued to her bare legs, and it’s really not possible that this is his life. “i’d like to see you do better, weasley.”

“oh, i will,” she’s traded out the iPod for a bottle of wine, brandishing it at him like a sword. “i’m literally gonna blow your mind.”

he turns off the hob, closes the meter of space between them, whispers: “i can think of another way you can blow my mind.”

the bottle ends up on the counter, next to the iPod, neither of which are touched again for the next two hours.

**

there’s a case at work involving a homicide, a little boy, a custody battle, a desperate godfather who looks harry dead in the eye and begs him not to let the boy end up with anyone else, and harry thinks dying was better than this. he finishes his paperwork early, barely registering the clamor of a case being solved around him, packs up his things and doesn’t hear robbards calling after him when he leaves the office.

he floos home, sees ginny on the couch, a book in her lap, but it doesn’t ease the weight in his heart, doesn’t fill the air with room like it should. the panic sets in just then, because he keeps ending back up here. with this same weight and no fucking air in his lungs, no matter how far away he thinks he’s gotten from it.

“harry,” the concern lines her forehead and he hates himself for putting that look in her eyes, for putting that fear in her heart. “what happened?”

“i’m gonna go for a run,” he says, head underwater, a silent promise that he’ll explain when he gets back passing between them.

ginny grabs the iPod off the coffee table - the one they picked out together because she hated the one he used to have before the flat was theirs - and hands it to him.

**

he takes his usual route, headphones in, playlist on shuffle. there’s a moment between songs when he’s bathed in a staticky silence where he wishes with everything left in him that he could call his own godfather, tell him about the case and the little boy with the big eyes that he thinks he could’ve been, in another life. the one who wouldn’t let go of his godfather’s hand. wishes he could tell him that, sometimes, harry wants to rip his own fucking heart out his chest, because it’s shattered beyond repair in some places and it bleeds too much every now and then and it drags him down, down, down.

except he can’t, that voice in the back of his head whispers, because this is his life and it has a habit of being monstrous to the people he loves.

but the music starts back up just then and the moment is gone and he turns around, starts running home.

**

it takes her four and a half months, but ginny finally learns both what downloading means and how to download songs onto the iPod. (not in that order, though.)

she adds so many songs the thing runs out of space. when harry tells her as much, she looks him dead in the eyes and says:

“what the crap does that mean, harold?”

so harry spends the next hour explaining to her exactly what the crap that means.

**

he runs through her additions to the playlist when he’s heading home from the office, working out, doing the laundry, and cooking because, yes, it takes him that long to listen to everything she’s added.

he can’t say he’s particularly surprised by her music choice - it fits her entirely too well for him to be. what he can say is that he’s a bit shocked she knows (and has listened to) this much muggle music. so, in a manner of speaking, she does blow his mind.

when he tells her this she laughs in his face for no less than five minutes and harry thanks her for being so graceful in her victory.

**

he finally considers the iPod a good purchase on a saturday, six months after he’s bought it. it’s laying around on the counter - as it usually does when it’s not in harry’s pocket - when ron spots it after dinner.

(the four of them - ron, hermione, harry and ginny - make it a point to have dinner together once a month. it starts as a tradition carried on from the year the girls went back to hogwarts and the boys fell arse first into auror training, but it becomes a reminder to all of them to work a little less and enjoy each other’s company a lot more.)

he - ron, that is - clicks through the playlist before seemingly finding a song he considers suitable, places the device on the coffee table, and holds his hand out for hermione. she accepts it and he twirls her around the living room a few times til she’s laughing harder than she can breathe and then they’re swaying, easily, gently, like they have nowhere to be.

harry watches them a moment longer, heart warming in his chest, before turning to ginny. she meets his eyes, gives him that wicked smile he loves so much, and grabs for the iPod, changing the song to something energetic, something alive, something completely ginny.

neither ron nor hermione have much time to be mad at her for the sudden tempo change because she’s rocketing off the couch, grabbing hermione’s hand and sending the two sailing around the room, dancing and jumping and laughing.

it lights something in harry and he’s smiling at the two and laughing at the hand ron’s outstretched towards him and the saucy wink he’s given him. he grabs ron’s hand, lets him twirl and dip harry, lets him taunt the girls about how much better him and harry are at this, backs him up when he needs more witty retorts than any one person could handle.

it goes on like this for some time. they’re dancing and singing (screaming, really) and the old man that lives down the hall is probably gonna yell at him and ginny in the morning, but harry couldn’t care less because he’s here, with his girlfriend in his arms and his best mates having it out about which one of them sang the line wrong. this, harry decides, is what it was all for. all the loss and the pain and the grief and every horrible thing there ever was. it all happened for this. for cheap wine and the best people and an iPod with a questionable amalgamation of probably dated muggle music, but damn him if it wasn’t worth it.

and damn him if he wouldn’t do it all again just for another night like this.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Moonflower

Warning: I mean kidnapping, but it’s more funny than angsty, also slight Yandere vibes torwards the end  Word count:  exactly 2222 (nice) Summary: It was a rather usual evening for you, a Gala, trying to avoid the mayor, getting kidnapped- what more could you want from your night?

This was requeste from a  phenomenal anon: Okay this is really silly, but cute to me for some reason. But could you write, like, reader is kidnapped by the Riddler as a hostage for Batman. But whether they wanna just mess with him, or if they like him, or whatever, for some reason, reader kisses Riddler. On the lips. Idk, I just think the idea is cute as well as whatever Riddler's reaction would be. I hope you like it ☺

Part 2 - Masquerade Part 3 - Magical/Misery/Massacre

You were almost thankful when the light in the ballroom of the city-hall flickered off and fog filled the area that was now only lit up by the lights from outside. The Gala you had been attending, one of the almost monthly charity gala's that some rich-guy (this time the mayor himself) held to make himself look better and to keep close contacts with all the other rich-guys in the city, was so boring that you were minutes away from crashing it yourself. Admittedly, your father was also an all-time favorite Gala host, but he had the excuse of having to keep face with his "side-business" and his parties were often at least somewhat entertaining. But this one? Horrible. Of course, you had somehow managed to be the only one "available" to go, so, not only were you extremely annoyed, but you were also completely alone in a room of rich old couples that tried to lick Bruce Wayne's eldest daughters, possible the next leader of Wayne inc. and one of the most prominent and appeared people in the Wayne-family (as the only one who wasn't dressed up every night and went fighting), boots. You had to admit that you could understand them somehow. Other than your siblings and your dad -who all kept it pretty low with the media- you were on every second tabloid, at every second event and on every second talk-show. You had quickly become the new face of the name Wayne, "proudly" sharing the place with your father. So yeah, you were more available than the rest of your relatives and with ever appearance in the media, they thought more and more that they knew about your opinions and the way you think. Some times you regretted your decision to keep away from the vigilante lifestyle to focus on keeping the Wayne-name alive. You couldn't quite remember when you made that choice, but you knew that as a girl, your father didn't want to train you any further than self-defence, because he was scared you'd get hurt, then Dick came along and was around your age, but still got to train and fight with your dad. Back then you'd been furious about that, but whenever he actually got hurt you felt like it was maybe the right thing to do. Then Dick left and in your anger at your dad for just picking up the next best kid and basically forgetting your sibling, even though you soon warmed up to Jason and accepted him as a second brother, you started focusing on school more and actually started to enjoy conversing with the business-people at Gala's about the news and the market. And somehow, after Jason died and you planned to take Wayne inc. away from your father as revenge for letting your brother die (a plan that you soon let go off when you recognize how much it actually had hurt him), you were somehow in the position of the heir of the Wayne empire, even though at some point -you were pretty sure- your dad asked you if you wanted to be trained like your other siblings to become a vigilante yourself, you were now on the way to business. That way was usually pretty bearable, but completely alone on a Gala that was like an exact copy of all the other ones, you would rather be stuck in a 24-hour business meeting. So, yes, when the Party was cut short by a villain attack you were probably a bit too happy. You heard the panicked calls and shouts of the other guests and quickly activated the bat-alarm ("Cool name dad, thanks for that") that was placed on the back of the necklace you wore (you had many other necklaces that included it too because in modern society you couldn't wear the same jewelry too often). Deciding not to risk waiting for them (and hoping that you could maybe make it to the small dinner down the street to eat something before one of your brothers (most likely Damian who would cling to you every time the two of you were together (even if it was more than the two of you)) found and dragged you back to the manor to check you over), you grabbed the skirt of your rather heavy dress (of course today was the day you decided to wear one of your bigger dresses), pulled it up to your upper thigh and quickly rushed to were you remembered the nearest exit to the Veranda to be. When the cold evening air hit your face you let out a small sigh. Very nice, you thought and started to walk towards the gate, when you felt a sharp pain pierce through your neck, immediately followed by numbness flowing through your whole body. "For real?" you managed to mumble before your legs lost their strength and you tumbled over, not sure if you even hit the ground before you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were almost sure that you'd be back in your home. The last few times you got taken, your family had been quick enough to get you before you even entered any hideaway. But you weren't home. You woke up laying on a rather slim matt on the floor of a small cage. You looked down at yourself to see that you were still wearing the dress that you'd worn earlier and that, even though the gaps between the bars wasn't large enough anyway, you couldn't really escape on your own in that. Damn modern fashion. When you had scanned the area around you you widened your radius to the hall your small personal jail was located in. It was literally just a big, empty warehouse, no-one in sight. "You know," you shouted into the emptiness, hoping someone would hear you, "kidnapping me is really uninspired, you aren't even the first one to do it this month." You sighed when no answer came and instinctively put your hand up to your neck to play with the necklace. Your breath got caught in your throat when you realized it wasn't there. Suddenly a spotlight flashed over the roof of the room, illuminating something that was hanging at the highest point. You didn't need to be close to recognizing your piece of jewelry. "Tell me, Miss Wayne," a voice suddenly filled the room and you started to look around, not sure where it came from, "why does a businesswoman like you have her own personal dog-whistle for batman?" You swallowed hard but kept your composure. "For many reasons," you started in the most confident voice you could manage, "I am in quite of a demand." "So is the mayor and I don't see him having one," the voice got closer and finally a figure stepped close enough for you to make out. You still couldn't see who it was though. "Well, maybe you just didn't see it, maybe it's in his shoe or something." "I don't think so," he stepped closer and you finally recognized the figure and his outfit, but you couldn't even mumble Riddler before he continued: "I studied all the kidnapping patterns of the most important figures in Gotham and somehow you're the only one who the bat always gets to in a matter of minutes." Okay, it's worse than I thought. Time to buy dad some time. "Okay first off, thanks for calling me one of the most important Gothamites," you said, playfully brushing your hair behind your shoulder, "and second if you really know that he has his eyes on me, shouldn't you be worried? I mean I'd think you would have figured out that there's a tracker in it by now." Of course, you knew that he knew and you also knew that he probably had some way or another to block it, but the longer he talked, the sooner your dad would find you. "You're not so stupid," he said, stepping closer to you, somehow already standing in front of your cage, "I've been watching you for a while now and we both know that you're just trying to stall for time, my dear." "You know, it's kinda creepy to say that you watched me. I mean, sure, you're the evil guy here, but still. Stalking?" He chuckled a bit but seemingly ignored what you said. You had to pull other levers, you realized when he turned around. "Don't you still want to know why I have my own Bat-whistle?" you shouted a bit too loud, but effectively managed to get him back to you. "Why would you tell me?" he asked suspiciously. "Well, I guess you want to know that and I really want to know what you think you could gain out of kidnapping me, so you tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine," you winked at him, mischievously. "Hmm," he eyed you, "fine. Even though it's quite obvious isn't it? You're the perfect moonflower for my bat-trap," he said, raising his hand to just slightly hover in front of you. For a second it felt like there was some kind of static energy between you, but you tried to ignore it. "I guess it's my turn now," you breathed out, ignoring the weird mood around you, "As you probably know, the bat has a very weird, honestly with a somewhat strange undertone, relationship with my dad. In exchange for some, uh, financing as my father put it, he agreed to keep his eye out for me a bit more. It's just the result of a parent's protectiveness and business." You weren't really lying, even though the way you said it clearly gave off a very different picture than what was actually the case, but it seemed like the man in front of you bought it. Shouldn't he be here by now? "Well, I guess the reason he protects you a little bit more than the rest of the city is irrelevant as long as he is searching you," he shrugged, seemingly satisfied by the answer and at the same time not really happy about it. You couldn't risk him losing interest again. "There's another secret you might want to know," you whispered ominously, gaining his attention for a second time that night. Before he could investigate your sentence, your hands slipped through the gaps between the bars and grabbed the Riddler's collar, pulling him flush against the poles and crashing your mouth with his. At the feeling of your soft lips against his, he immediately froze, fixed in position like a statue. When you needed to take a breath again, you pulled back, smoothing your dress down and fixing your hair, the man in front of you still completely stiff. "I should probably tell you that the tracker in my necklace isn't the only one on me, you should've really taken my advice and checked the shoes," you smirked and winked again, the Riddler's gaze fixed on you with eyes as wide as dinner plates when the wall behind you crashed open and your family came to your rescue. "Until next time," you shrugged at him when your cage was broken open and Nightwing picked you up and carried you out, from what you could see before you were out of reach, the man you just kissed never moved.

[Bonus]

It had been a fairly long day at Wayne Inc. and the suit you were wearing was starting to be annoying and you wanted nothing more than to peel out of these clothes and get into your jogging pants and one of Jason's oversized T-shirts. So, as quickly as possible, you rushed to your room, ignoring Damian's plead to join him on a walk with Titus, only to stop in your steps after you had opened the door. Your (alarm-wired mind you) window stood open and allowed a cold breeze to fill your room. For a second you contemplated calling someone to check it out, but your curiosity got the best of you. You quietly closed the door and sneaked over to the window with the plan to check if someone was outside, but when you stood in front of it, your eyes landed on a small package that stood on your windowsill. You looked around again, before closing the window (and checking that the alarm wiring was still intact) and sitting down on your bed to open the small box. It was packed neatly with a grey wrapping and a Y/F/C ribbon, making you especially careful when opening it. Inside was a perfume bottle that took your breath away. It was gorgeous. The Cap was adorned by a glass flower that was completely white and round, but other than that there was nothing on it that would give away the contents of the bottle. Having been briefed about poisonous packages by not only Wayne inc. safety regulators but also at least every member of your family at least once, you didn't spray any of the perfume, instead, laying it back into the box. It was then that you noticed the card in it that had the same colour as the inside of the box, making it easy to overlook. You took it out and turned it around to read the words that were written on it with the neatest font you've ever seen. Until next time my Moonflower...

[dhwty-writes]

I've had 'Just give me a reason' by pink stuck in my head all day lol, I humbly offer it as a song prompt if it sparks anything :D

“If it sparks anything”... Fam, I just astralprojected back to 2013 and my first kiss! I had a lot of fun with it (although I got a bit distracted midway through, I’m sorry!)

I also couldn’t decide whether I wanted to do a post-mountain fix-it fic or a modern AU, so you’ll get both! Here’s the angsty one (that’s way longer than expected) :)

Read on AO3

The unfairness of it all as he staggered down the steep mountainside was overwhelming. Twenty years of his life for... what exactly? For nothing at all!

Over half of his measly human life he'd spent trailing after that grumpy... horse's arse of a witcher. He poured his heart and soul into a song cycle just to change Geralt's undeserved horrible reputation! (And to get rich, of course, but that was neither here nor there.) By rights he should claim ten percent of Geralt's income, but did he? No, of course not!

He'd never asked anything in return. Nothing but company, a friend, a tiny bit of affection even. Not love, of course. He might be delusional and a hopeless romantic, but not that much of an imbecile.

He knew Geralt loved Yennefer and that the affection was mutual. It was pretty much obvious for about anyone who saw them together. And Jaskier wasn't just anyone. He and the witcher shared just about anything — food, coin, clothes, beds sometimes, when it was cold or there was only one room left. And, though the witcher denied that fervently, Geralt talked in his sleep sometimes.

Jaskier had discovered that one freezing night in a tavern in Kovir, when he'd woken up because he was uncomfortably warm. Additionally, to the heap of quilted blankets they laid under, Geralt had draped himself over him, too, clutching him tight against his chest. 'Cute,' Jaskier had thought, 'Geralt's a cuddler.'

But then he had started talking, and it had been torture of the most exquisite kind. Most of his ramblings were unintelligible, but those he could understand were unbearably sweet. "Don't go," Geralt would say whenever Jaskier tried to move away. Or "C'mere" and tug him closer to his chest. There were plenty of "Y'smell good"s and, on one memorable occasion an "I love you". None of them were meant for him, of course. But, oh, how he wanted them to be.

Jaskier had fallen for Geralt the moment he'd spotted him in that tavern, grumpily nursing his tankard of ale. He'd been absolutely smitten as soon as they walked free from Filavandrel and Geralt smiled at his "Respect doesn't make history" nonsense, thinking he wouldn't see. They had travelled together for the better part of a month, before destiny had parted them again. At an inn at the crossroads Jaskier had stolen a pretty lad's virginity and Geralt had ridden off into the sunset, not knowing he had stolen Jaskier's heart in turn. 'Good old days.'

Only that they weren't good anymore. Jaskier heaved a sigh that sounded more like a sob than anything else. What had previously been a rose-and-gold-coloured fantasy of a memory, seemed now rather dull, truth be told.

After a few weeks going their separate way, Jaskier had heard of a witcher near Hagge and gone to seek him out. They had travelled again, on and off. Most of the time it had been him, who had actively looked for Geralt, tracking down rumours about white-haired monster hunters. But not always.

Right before the whole child surprise ordeal, it had been him performing in a tavern and Geralt barrelling inside, interrupting him mid-song. "Jaskier!" the witcher had shouted. "There you are. I've got a contract, come with me?"

Or that other time in early fall. He'd gotten himself a comfortable place for the winter in the home of some noble lady, who he'd been entertaining with music, poems and other uses of his silver tongue alike, when one early evening a servant knocked on their door, quite adamantly insisting there was a visitor for the troubadour. His host had been none too pleased when he'd gotten up and dressed to greet a witcher of all people. "What the fuck were you thinking, bard," Geralt had growled, "not showing up all summer. I thought you were dead."

All in all, Jaskier had thought that his affection was, at least to some extent, reciprocated. And now this.

After twenty years the moment he'd dreaded had finally come. Twenty years of lavishing Geralt with love. Geralt, the person who'd been told he couldn't feel, mustn't feel. Twenty years of shouting his adoration to the heavens, to finally be told that it was unwanted.

To borrow Geralt's words: "Fuck." He needed a drink.

~*~

Geralt of Rivia was an idiot and he knew it. The revelation had dawned on him almost instantly after his foolish outbreak. Well, not entirely instantly. He had a feeling, at the very least, although he hadn't expected the bard to take his words literally. 

He hadn't been able to get rid of him with his gruff exterior before, so he hadn't thought he would now. The realisation that Jaskier was truly gone dawned on him, when he reached the base of the mountain a few days later and the bard was nowhere to be found.

Roach was still there, as were Geralt's bags. Their content wasn't. After twenty years of carrying frivolous outfits, chewed-on quills tattered notebooks that smelled of lavender, they were uncomfortably light.

"Fuck," Geralt said quietly. He didn't know why, but some part of him had hoped to find Jaskier there. 'Where he belongs,' his brain supplied unhelpfully. He frowned deeply, trying to rid himself of that thought. Jaskier wasn't some kind of possession to be owned.

But when he settled down for the night that evening, the forest devoid of any melodic chattering, of joyful laughter, of life, he knew it was true. Jaskier might not belong to him, he mused as he crawled into his bedroll. 'But he belongs to my side all the same.'

Somewhere along the twenty years of companionship — gods, was it truly twenty years? It was nothing for him, but such a long time for humans, who aged so fast — Jaskier had managed to firmly worm himself under Geralt's skin, to the point where there was something missing now that he was truly gone.

Geralt slept terribly that night. When the sun rose the next morning, he set out on another hunt. Not for a monster, that time, but the best thing destiny had ever given to him, that he had chased away with his brashness.

The scavenger hunt led him halfway across the continent, until he stumbled into another tavern on the coast of Temeria. Jaskier's trail hadn't been too hard to follow. Apparently, his friend had been fucking and drinking his way through three kingdoms.

And the bard looked as if he was doing a good job of adding a fourth one. He was more than just a little tipsy, sitting rather than standing on the stage. An agonised look passed over his face when he saw Geralt. He wanted to rush over and pull him into a hug, but then Jaskier started singing and the witcher was just frozen in place. It was the most heart-wrenching ballad yet. It took him only about three lines to realise who it was about. 'Fuck,' he thought.

All his instincts told him to flee. He wasn't prepared for this. He couldn't do this. But Jaskier had seen him already. No getting out of it now.

So, he shouldered his way through the crowd Jaskier always attracted and tried to hide in some secluded corner of the tavern. It took incredibly long for the bard to finally finish his set, and even then he made no attempt to seek Geralt out. Instead, he languidly leaned onto the bar, flirting with the barmaid behind it.

He barely suppressed a growl. 'Fine,' he thought and got up to confront his mistakes. He slammed his tankard down next to Jaskier, scaring the barmaid off in the process. "Jaskier," he greeted him.

"Oh, great," he sneered in response. "There goes my bed for the night."

"Hmm," he answered and ducked his head. "I'm sorry."

"What, for chasing off my newest conquest? I fucking hope you are!"

"No, Jaskier," he answered honenstly. "I'm sorry for what I said to you."

"Hmph, you need to do a lot better than that," he said and reached over the bar for a bottle of strong-smelling liquor. He poured himself a glass and knocked it back. Without pause he continued: "Because you know what? I'm fucking angry, Geralt."

"Do we have to do this here?" he hissed. They were attracting glares. Never a good thing for a witcher.

"No," Jaskier admitted and stood up. Bottle in hand he walked towards the stairs. "You're paying for the room."

"Sure," he grumbled and flagged down the innkeep. By the time he had managed to acquire a key, Jaskier had already dragged himself upstairs and drained a good portion of the bottle.

Geralt snorted and unlocked the door, but didn't comment on it. "What I've been trying to say-" he began, and was promptly interrupted:

"How about trying to shut up?" Jaskier hissed and kicked the door shut. "How about trying to listen to me after twenty fucking years?!"

"Jaskier, what I said-"

"This isn't about what you said! Don't you understand? What you said is only the tip of the figurative dragon mountain. I thought you actually liked me! I thought we were friends."

'Shit,' Geralt thought and ground his teeth. "Hmm."

Jaskier laughed hoarsely. "Oh, great. That same old story again. Why am I even bothering...?" He drank straight from the bottle, swaying a bit on his feet.

"You're drunk," he tried to say as neutrally as possible.

"And you're shutting me out again," he countered. Neither of them were wrong.

"I don't know what to say," Geralt tried.

Jaskier wasn't impressed: "Evidently." He made no attempt to follow that up with anything.

After a few moments of silence, Geralt realised that it was his turn to try and fix this mess with words of all things. "I can't sleep," he tried. "Not since you left."

"Poor you," Jaskier mocked cruelly. "I can't either."

"I can't sleep without you," he tried again. "It's cold. I'm dreaming. And when I wake up I'm alone. Roach is a horrible conversationalist and my camps are too big."

Jaskier put the bottle down slowly, gaping at him.

"I walked the path for decades without you and it was fine. It's not anymore. I can't do it any longer. And I guess... I guess I was scared." The words weren't any less intimidating once he'd finally said them. "You said I talk in my sleep?"

"You do."

"I don't. It's been beaten out of me in Kaer Morhen."

"So?"

He closed his eyes as tightly as he could. It was stupid, he knew. Childish, even. But he couldn't look at Jaskier for this. "So, I meant it. Every word of it."

No reaction.

"Please, Jaskier, I need you to forgive me."

"Give me one reason and I just might." He could hear him come closer. "Say it," he demanded. "Look me in the eye and say it."

It took him every ounce of his discipline to open his eyes and look at Jaskier, barely two feet away from him. "I love you," he said quietly.

"Louder."

"I love you. I've loved you for years, and it scared me, so I couldn't let you know. Witchers aren't supposed to be scared, and that scared me even more, and-"

The rest of his words was silenced by Jaskier's lips. The bard practically leapt at him, snaking his arms around his neck and pulling him close. "You're an idiot," he said when he pulled away. "A fool, a nitwit, an absolute imbecile. The stupidest man alive!"

"I am," he agreed, looping his arms around his waist.

"Why, oh why, do I have to love you of all people?"

"You love me?"

He laughed a teary laugh. "I do, I do. For years and years. How didn't you notice?"

"Because I'm a fool," Geralt said and kissed him again. He just couldn't resist.

"I'm still angry," Jaskier informed him.

"That's alright. But you don't hate me?"

"Far from it."

"And when I wake up on the morrow, you'll be there?"

"Yes," Jaskier promised with another kiss.

Geralt couldn't help but grin. "Good."

[sedge-and-sanctuary]

Sanctuary Pack Stories: The Loner

A story from year seven. After being scattered in the escape from human hunters, the pack is finally ready to go back home. Chicory is reunited with a figure from her past.

"And she still had the gun- I guess I was pretty worried about that- but Uno had the idea to--"

Chicory raises her muzzle, cutting Verand short. "You're limping again."

And Verand's head hunches into an expression so obviously and immediately guilty that Chicory has to bite back a laugh, fighting to keep her face stern. "I've been doing the stretches you told me, you can ask Kit--"

"Like he'd tell me the truth." Chicory snorts. "Slow down-- you don't need to go leaping ten strides ahead. The pack'll hardly leave without us."

"But--" Verand blows out a sigh. "They're just ahead, Chicory. And I swear it isn't sore at all!" She lifts the bad leg to demonstrate, stretching it out ahead in an exaggerated step.

"Hm," Chicory says.

This time, she has to hide a frown.

Verand's range of motion is pretty bad; no sign of stiffness or pain in her body language, but she can't get the leg very high off the ground. Probably she'll be limping on it the rest of her life.

"Fine. Go on then."

And Verand straightens at once, surprise and delight all over her face her face, open and obvious as tansy in bloom.

"It's this way!" She calls, already disappearing through the trees. Her tail wags behind her like a flag, waving them on.

She's a good kid. And she'll be struggling with that leg the rest of her life. Because Chicory hadn't kept her back when she should have. Because she hadn’t been nearly the doctor she should have been.

Probably get worse when she's older, too, she thinks, bitter, and pads on after Verand.

The Sanctuary Pack has been almost a year without a home, scattered wide across unfamiliar territory, fleeing for their lives through baking summer, muddy fall, bitter winter.

And now the spring unfurls before them, thin and cold, with snow still clinging stubborn in the shade.

So their territory is safe again. So they'll all be reunited. So she'll see Radun, again.

Chicory snorts. Looks up. The sky, a chilly dove's-wing gray, is threatening rain.

And wouldn't that be just her luck.

"Verand!"

A voice through the trees- high and clear, Chicory can't quite place it- and Verand, ahead of her, gives a joyful bark and bounds forward, oblivious to Chicory's censure.

She hurtles into a dark, slim wolf- Uno, it must be- and the two go rolling head-over-hocks through the muddy undergrowth, tails wagging fit to stir up a storm.

The wind, shifting, carries the mingled scents of many wolves towards them; the pack, at last.

Chicory lifts her nose, testing the air; no hint of sickness she can detect. No stink of infection, no rotting sweetness.

"Chicory." A low voice-- she turns, and Kit- a big, square young wolf- pads up to stand beside her.

"Yes?"

"Is everyone... alright? In your group?" Something hangs a little sad and serious hanging around his eyes, the way mist will cling to water.

"They'll take some feeding up." Chicory shrugs. "But well enough, I guess. Considering."

"That's good." His eyes keep sliding away from Chicory's, watching his friends play sidelong, so obviously hangdog it's nearly literal, his head drooping low.

Chicory softens- just a little, mind you- and gestures towards Verand and Uno. "Pull those two wolverines apart, would you? I'm sure I can find my own way."

He doesn't need much more convincing. As Chicory walks on, his voice joins theirs; a low and rumbling counterpoint, and warm as the thaw.

Chicory fluffs her fur against the wind, scowling. If the thaw ever comes.

She picks her way onwards, cold mud squelching unpleasantly between her toes.

Is thinking, they better have picked a drier spot to camp, when she comes through a break in the trees, and there is all of Sanctuary, gathered up and waiting.

Finch is fussing over the pups, Maize laid out in a sunbeam watching him, panting a little in that wheezy, painful way- can't Eight look after her patients when Chicory isn't around?- and a couple of scouts are straggling in: Dace and Rover, muddy but apparently satisfied.

Rover splits off immediately, to look for Seven, the two old wolves gray around their muzzles, speaking too low for Chicory to hear above the general babble of voices, and Chicory watches them-- watches all of them-- and feels some foolish, unwanted warmth bubbling up like water in a hot spring, something nearly scalding, too strong, too hot to hold in her, too much--

And there is Radun, too, looking up, the first wolf out of all of them to notice Chicory standing there.

And she is just-- standing there. Rooted to the spot by that wave of feeling, blindsided, just by seeing all of them, together and safe again. She’s going soft, probably. Can’t bring herself to care too much.

So she only stands and watches as Radun gets up, and walks across the clearing to greet her.

"Chicory. You look very well." Her voice musical and strangely deep, that odd formality. When she dips her head, low, in greeting, even their poor thin sun cannot help but catch the highlights of her rich, golden fur.

Chicory clears her throat, and clears it again. "You too," she says, stiff. "It's-- good to see you again. Been a while."

Radun straightens. "It has." A pause. "Is Verand--"

Of course-- that's why she'd come up to say hello. Chicory shakes herself, feeling foolish.

"Right behind me. Got caught up with Kit and Uno."

"I see." A pause. Radun shifts from paw to paw, evidently restless. "And is she--"

"She's alright. Favouring the leg a little, is all." I wish I had better news to give you.

"Good. That's good to hear." She clears her throat. Looks over Chicory's shoulder, something stiff in her face, her posture. "I-- thank you very much for indulging my worry. It means a great deal."

"Not a problem." Chicory fights back the horrible honeycomb-feeling bubbling up in her chest, airy and stinging and sweet at her words.

She's only being polite, she's always polite.

They hesitate for another moment, Radun still not quite meeting Chicory's eyes. Watching for her sister, probably, but too polite to go.

"I should go check in with Dace," Chicory should say. Give her an excuse.

Says, instead, "how've you been keeping, then?"

And Radun looks up, almost startled, right at Chicory, at last, something deep and warm in her tawny eyes, something almost…

"I've been well," she says, "very well, under the circumstances. Thank you. I--"

And Chicory looks away, unable to bear it, looks past Radun's shoulder just to-- settle her nerves, her damn idiot nerves, getting excited over nothing--

And all the heat goes out of the world, just like that. Like the sun's been swallowed up, like the seasons are turning backwards.

Eight is chatting with a patient, in the shadow of an oak; she hadn't seen them, when she'd first arrived, tucked away in the shade. And her patient-- a newcomer. Not of The Pack-- a gray wolf, huge out of all proportion, built broad and strong, and his eyes glitter with a sort of watchful, foxlike intelligence.

Chicory knows him, immediately.

Something must show on her face-- Radun ducks her head again. "My apologies. I've taken up too much of your time."

"No," Chicory starts to say, don't worry about it, no, you haven't, but she's turning already, and leaving Chicory with--

With him.

Jumps For Clouds watches Radun as she passes. Looks back along her path to spot Chicory, and the thoughts flicker, visibly, across his narrow face; surprise, at first, with understanding coming snapping at its heels.

He turns, and says something in Eight's ear. She looks up, surprised.

Together, they get up, and start towards her.

Chicory skirts the edge of the camp to meet them. Wants this conversation happening as far from the rest of the pack as possible. If her secrets must come out-- well. She supposes they'll all learn of it, eventually. Probably foolish, trying to draw it out.

She ducks her head away, as Eight and Jumper get near, some great weight pulling her down towards the earth.

"Chicory!" Eight says, "I'm glad to see you back. This is--"

"Jumps For Clouds," Jumper says, smoothly. "But you can call me Jumper. A pleasure."

Chicory looks up, slowly. "--Chicory," she says. "It's-- nice to meet you."

He nods, amiably, face open and friendly. "Now-- I understand you're this pack's other healer?"

"I am." No sense denying it. But telling him anything makes Chicory's fur itch. He remembers her-- he must remember her. He's just got some... angle, is what it is.

He'd always had some sort of angle.

"I thought so. You know, you just seem like a healer to me. Even kinda look like one I used to know."

"I guess there's sort of a-- common look," Eight offers, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Sure," Chicory says, stiff. "It's the hunchback."

Jumper laughs, over-loud. "Well, see, I knew someone in this pack had to have a sense of humour! Listen--" he turns to Eight, apologetic. "Listen, do you mind if I have her take a look? I really do feel--"

Eight stiffens, a little, but nods. "It can never hurt to get a second opinion."

"I thank you." Jumper dips his head. "Listen- Chicory, was it? Chicory, I swear I'm feeling under the weather, but the lovely miss Eight here says she can't find anything wrong. Would you mind..."

"Of course not." The words are stiff in her mouth, bitter. "Eight, I can take it from here."

Eight hesitates, frowning. "Are you sure? I have his history, I can--"

"I can ask him." Chicory looks over her shoulder-- back towards Dace, settling down to a meal. "I'm sure you've got other things to do."

Eight follows her eyes, visibly brightens. "Well," she says, with badly-feigned reluctance."If you're really sure--"

And at Chicory's nod, she sets off towards Dace at a barely-restrained trot, affection coming off her so palpable you could nearly see it.

Chicory watches her go, a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Well, who'd've thought you'd learn to manage people," Jumper says, voice light. "Wasn't the most subtle job I've ever seen, but--"

Chicory looks at him. "Jumper."

He tips his head in greeting. "Chews on Chicory," he says. "Fancy finding you here." Something thoughtful in his tone.

"What do you want?"

"Want?" He looks hurt. "Shelter, Chicory, a little help! You know, my own pack's fallen to war. Horrible tragedy."

"It has?" Chicory blinks. So the Pack At High Mountain was gone. "I had no idea--"

"Oh,” Jumper says, smooth as ice. “ I think you had some.”

Chicory looks at him. Feels a sort of frost creeping over her, inexorable, cold vertebrae-by-vertebrae along her spine.

"Of course," he goes on, "I might be mistaken. A common look, right? I might never have met you at all, before today."

Chicory doesn't respond. Doesn't know how to.

The pack had fallen-- how many wolves lost to the fighting, then? How many that she might have saved, if she were there?

"Listen, all I'm asking is a little-- a little healing. Your hunter, Rime, she wants me out with her team, but I'm sure I'm feeling under the weather. I should be getting my beauty rest, not getting myself all-- worn out and cut up hunting. Wouldn't you agree?"

Chicory meets his eyes, for a long moment. A more evidently strong, healthy young wolf she's never seen.

As if from an enormous distance, the warm, familiar sounds of the pack filter towards them-- the excited chatter of the puppies, the easy ribbing of a group of hunters setting out. How long has she been with this pack-- two years, three?

Good years-- good wolves.

"I just need the good opinion of a healer," Jumper says. "That's all."

Chicory ducks her head, guilt in her heavy as a stone.

"Of course," she says, at last. "Come with me."