#or his own wayward failing life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asktheritochampion · 22 days ago

Note

Psst, Rahlin. Teba said Ravioli has a new diary with some pretty endeering entrys. Hit us up on the sly?

[Text]

Sometimes it feels as though each of the other Champions has settled into their new lives in this futuristic world so much more effectively than I, and it leaves me feeling…inadequate. I’m unsure why I am having such a difficult time assimilating. I should surely feel thankful for this miracle second chance at life; however I often find myself so overcome with grief and sorrow that I cannot lift myself from my hammock. Isn’t that pathetic? I am supposed to be the Rito Champion. The people of this age look up to me. I must make a good impression, and lazing around in bed simply isn’t good enough.

It seems terribly childish to admit; but I miss my home. I miss my possessions. I miss the warriors I grew up with and trained besides. Perhaps I never had the type of relationships most people would consider friendships, however there is comfort in familiarity. I simply cannot stop thinking of all the people I have left behind. Nothing but dust in the ground now.

Did anybody mourn me as I am mourning them? I do not have a grave. I suppose they never recovered my body.

Things are not all doom and gloom despite my pitiful mood, however.

I have been staying temporarily with the newly appointed Village Elder and his family until a space opens up in the Village for me to reclaim my own roost. Its strange, but I feel like I have met him before, in the strange tangle of my memories of the Calamity. He is a fine warrior with impressive skills, I suspect he could almost match me in archery actually. Almost.

The family behaves as if I have lived with them all my life. I expected to feel frustrated being in such close quarters with such social people; however I am finding myself increasingly endeared by them. The wife, Saki, insists that I join them for meals every day, and admittedly it has been useful in forcing me out of my periods of wallowing. Her cooking is pleasant. The child, Tulin, seems to have some control over the wind such as I do. Even if he is just a boy, it has been fascinating to share conversation with him about it, I look forward to taking him on as an apprentice and teach him everything I know.

Perhaps things will be okay once I’ve had a little more time to adjust.

Yesterday I visited Zora’s Domain. It certainly has changed in the past hundred years – however perhaps not as much as Rito Village has. It was pleasant to see some familiar faces, even if many of them are now far older than they were during the Calamity.

Mipha requested my aid in fighting a Lynel on Ploymus Mountain. I suspect she only asked because she has some wayward concern for my wellbeing being the only one of us revived without a living family, considering the fact that she is perfectly capable of tackling such a foe alone. Regardless, she did invite me to join her for dinner afterwards, which is always a pleasant affair. I do enjoy Zora cuisine, and Mipha had many interesting stories to share. Her tiny brother is enormous now, it’s bizarre to see.

To avoid flying in the dark I stayed the night, and the two of us stayed up late consuming an unhealthy amount of sugary foods and taking turns reading aloud from a frankly hysterical Zora romance novel that seemed as if it had been written by someone with no concept of anatomy, and laughing until we felt unwell. It was…nice. It reminded me of old times.

Last night was the first time since awaking that I havn’t dreamt of Windblight.

Perhaps I could visit the Domain more often. In case they need my aid again.

There was a ceremony at the Castle this evening to honour the Champions of old by the sides of the ‘Sages’ who fought in the second coming of the Calamity. I’ve never enjoyed the pomp and grandeur of these types of events.

Admittedly I had intended not to attend initially. My reasoning to Teba had been that I was simply too busy for such unnecessary affairs, however in truth I…feel like a failure. How mortifying it seems to have failed my one task in aiding to stop the Calamity, and for a ten year old child to accomplish everything that I couldn’t a hundred years on.

Tulin is a good kid, I feel nothing but pride for his achievements. I simply feel such a deep sense of shame over it all. The very idea of standing in front of the entirety of Hyrule, all of the people I let down – it left me feeling sick to my stomach.

Teba had insisted I attend, if not to join in with the celebration then at least to support Tulin, and eventually I gave in. I’m glad I did.

Pointless as the ceremony was, it was pleasant to see the other Champions again. I do not visit them as often as I should; though I have been making an effort to send more missives. Furthermore, while it was an uncomfortable experience as expected; Tulin did appear to have a wonderful time of it, and it was pleasant to see the boy receive the praise he deserves for all of his hard work.

The Princess invited us to stay the night at the castle. Well, I suppose she is the Queen, now, though it seems strange to think of her as such. I spent most of the evening training in the royal gardens with Urbosa, and it was refreshing to be challenged again.

Before retiring to bed, I passed by Zelda in the royal library and we shared a nice discussion about the works of Frequius Edgal. I always enjoy hearing her enthuse about books; she used to be so crippled by stress before the Calamity and it seems as though now we are finally seeing her true face. She has invited me back to join her in a few weeks’ time to discuss another few tomes in a sort of book club; apparently Daruk shall be there too – though I never took the pebble brain for much of a reader.

My archery skills are still far superior to those of anyone in the Village, even a hundred years on it seems. While Teba’s skills are impressive, the old man is still too slow to quite match my unbeatable heights. Yet, I still yearn to become better.

Today I paid Daruk a visit in Goron City. The heat there does not agree with me; even when covering every feather on my body in bottles and bottles of fire proof elixir. However it was enjoyable to spend a day training in a different environment.

Daruk challenged me to some Goron tradition called a ‘gut check challenge’, which thankfully did not involve eating rocks, but rather climbing up a sheer cliff face on a time limit. Rito aren’t really built to climb, however I have never been one to back down from a challenge.

I failed miserably. Slipped and fell about seven times, definitely bruised a few ribs and twisted my ankle, and by the time I made it to the top I had passed the time limit by a number of hours. I was practically the laughing stock of half of Goron City.

Perhaps it should have been a humiliating experience, however instead I found it a delightful thrill. Something about Daruk’s positive attitude about everything makes it rather difficult to feel ashamed, and despite my utter failure to excel at his challenge, he did nothing but rejoice over my making it to the top in the end after so many attempts, commending my determination and bravery. I left feeling almost rather proud of myself – which is utterly ridiculous; I don’t know how he did that.

I intend to practise climbing over the next few weeks in the privacy of the Hebra mountains and then come back to give his challenge another try. The look on his face when I show up and beat every Goron in the City’s time with my superior skills shall be wonderful.

I havn’t had a panic attack in two weeks now. I think the medicine Saki gave me is helping. I’ve been eating more regularly again too.

Link came to visit the Village again this week to assist with setting up for the winter festival, I think Teba requested it of him. The helpful little brat can never turn down the opportunity to help someone.

I can’t seem to stop myself from spitting insults into the boys face at every opportunity I get. At first it had been from a place of indignation and frustration over his silence and refusal to recognise my skills; however as we’ve gotten to know one another I no longer hold that same sense of anger towards him. If anything, I almost rather enjoy his company these days. The knight is an excellent listener, and a worthy challenger to battle. I don’t know why I feel so compelled to treat him with malice.

There is a possibility I am perhaps experiencing something akin to a schoolboy crush. How mortifying. Perhaps my frustration is coming from a place of knowing the obnoxious little hero is in the eye of both the Princess of Zora’s Domain and the new Queen of Hyrule. Inevitably, he’ll end up a king some way or another, and that thought pains me. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about the ridiculous blond runt. I hate that there is no conceivable timeline in which he even graces a single thought in his oversized head on me; a Rito with no political standing whatsoever who failed at his one task in the Calamity.

Perhaps I bully him because I’m so desperate for him to believe I am still worthy of his attention. It seems so utterly below me.

I am attempting to be better about this. Tonight, I refrained from calling him a disgusting glutton when he had a third portion of Saki’s cooking. I informed him that his hair wasn’t a complete mess while we were preparing for bed. I even offered him a space in my hammock when he complained of the chill of the night air. None of these things come very naturally to me, but I am trying. The fool doesn’t deserve to be insulted due to my own insecurities.

Tomorrow morning I am to join him in an activity he called ‘shield surfing’. For tonight, I am allowing him to sleep beneath my wing. He is very pretty when he sleeps. Perhaps with some practise, I’ll be able to tell him that someday.

I got into another fight with Teba.

Sometimes I think I miss the Calamity, but I suspect what I really miss is the person I was back then. I tell myself that I was brave, flawless, near unstoppable. Retrospectively; perhaps I was merely naive and what I really miss is truly believing that I could do anything.

I was displaying my impeccable flight and shooting skills for the fledglings the other day and messed up my ascent. I doubt anyone even noticed in truth, I managed to catch myself after being thrown by the updrafts pull and the fledglings seemed to think it was part of the performance. Still, it mortified me that I could make such a pathetic mistake even after all of these years. Sometimes it feels as though no matter how much I refine my skills, I shall simply never be good enough.

As it happens, Teba had been watching from near by and later on attempted to commend me on my flight skills, even going as far as saying he was proud of me for everything I have managed to accomplish at such a young age. Perhaps I was still frustrated with myself because I took his compliment with great offence and practically tore the man a new one, spitting insults at him for daring to patronise me.

After several minutes of a back and forth lashing with the man, I began to feel that familiar tug of panic in my chest again and retreated to Medoh. This time I stayed with her for days. Something about her silent company seems to soothe my frantic mind, and I appreciate her lack of judgement over my episodes of patheticness.

The funny thing is, deep down I know the Elder’s compliments had come from a genuine place, and I believe a part of me so desperately wanted to believe them. I don’t believe anyone has ever told me that they were proud of me before, and patronising as it might seem, a childish part of me deep inside yearns for it. My lashing out at him comes from my own insecurities; I simply feel as though I don’t deserve his pride. I havn’t earned it yet. I still need to be better.

When I returned to the Village, Teba apologised for patronising me, and I apologised for calling him a worthless, pathetic failure of a warrior with two left feet and a fledgling level of skill with a bow. It seemed a mutual affair of forgiveness and moving on, however I have continued to feel guilt over my outburst.

For all my vocabulary exceeds most in size; sometimes I find words…difficult. I made him a new quiver for his arrows since his old one was a tattered mess, and left it with his things. I hope that is enough to convey my remorse.

These people are the closest thing I have to family or friends in the Village in this day and age. Why can’t I stop pushing people away the moment they get too close?

#Rahlins gifts #if he wants my loyalty he needs to start paying me #revali #age of calamity #breath of the wild #tears of the kingdom #legends of zelda #revalink #mipha #link #daruk #urbosa #zelda #rito village #rito #teba #tulin #saki

78 notes · View notes

aziraphales-library · 6 months ago

Note

hi <3 do you have any recs for long multichap fics that are NOT slow burns? thank so much!

Hello! There are not enough fics tagged "fast burn" so I also did a search for "established relationship". Enjoy...

its duty is to harm me, my duty is to know by natalunasans (T)

the title is from a cohen song about death, & also applies to life... whether in london or in tadfield; together, alone, or in (usually good) company; the ineffable partners talk out their fears, try to figure out what they are and what to do with themselves, now that they're not working for heaven and hell anymore. domestic softness > action, but there is some plot and angst (off and on)

Don't Drag Me Down by rowenablade (M)

Armageddon didn't happen, Heaven and Hell have agreed to leave them alone, and Aziraphale and Crowley are free to build a life together. But the forces of Hell aren't happy with losing, and even if they can't directly harm their wayward demon, they can try to drive a wedge between him and the angel that he loves. After all, Crowley had been encouraging them for centuries to get creative.

The Starting Hinge by lucky_spike (T)

When a rare book collector is mysteriously killed, DI Barnaby and DS Winter are on the case. Meanwhile, the question of what will become of the victim's extensive library stirs a small group of rare books collectors into a furor. Who can be trusted? - This is predominantly a Good Omens fanfic with some Midsomer Murders thrown in just because I could do it and I wanted to. Contains death of an OC and (obvs) murder and attempts thereof. Nothing gory, though, so party on.

Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise (M)

A narrative of certain events leading up to The Big One, in strict accordance, as shall be shown, with the nice and accurate prophesies of Agnes Nutter, witch. A Good Omens sequel, set thirty years in the future... Thirty years after a failed Armageddon we must face The Big One, as Heaven and Hell, working together, enact a plan to fix the world or destroy it forever. Meanwhile, Aziraphale and Crowley discover that truly being on their own side has more implications than they’d ever have guessed. Changes to the basic metaphysics of the universe. A second book of prophesies. Mysterious twins on a mission. Hijinks and shenanigans. Deep questions, laughs, ridiculous banter and sexy stuff. Welcome to my attempt at an epic Good Omens sequel.

Considerate Omens by OneofWebs (M)

Crowley is plagued by dreams of a life he lived long before time had even begun. It's two years after the Apocalypse-That-Didn't, and though he's got a healthy bit of fear of what may come next, choosing to ignore these dreams seems a much better use of his time. In those two years, Aziraphale had moved into his flat, and they may or may not be dating. They don't talk about it, but they do get along just fine with their play-pretend routine, which proves a bit rickety when neither of them age. To avoid suspicion, Aziraphale thinks it wise that he spend some time presenting as a woman. This, a catalyst to the end Crowley had feared before, because it's hard to resist the idea of children when the opportunity presents itself. - [The Continuation of Good Omens]

Bleating Hearts by HKBlack (E)

Meet Doctor Aziraphale Fell, university lecturer of English Literature, Shakespearian expert, and man with an unexpected goat in his office. When the handsome herder who comes to catch the unruly visitor asks some pointed questions, Aziraphale finds his life suddenly turned upside down and filled with both new challenges and opportunities. But is Crowley all that he says he is? And even if he isn’t–does it really matter when he’s clearly a piece of the puzzle missing in Aziraphale’s life? Trip on over to Devil Doe’s Dairy and Goat Scaping Farm, where the cheese is always smooth, the goats climb roofs, and true love might just be around the corner.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #long fic #established relationship #mod d

95 notes · View notes

kittysproduce · 4 months ago

Text

#TESFest2024 Day 02: Secret | Golden

Miraak who visited the Last Dragonborn's dreams when she was but a child and became her ever watchful guardian.

Miraak who, in a hasty attempt to save her from imminent danger, awakened a dangerous, self-preserving power laying dormant within her.

Miraak who spared her from death, only to cause her a hundred more.

Miraak who failed, who kept silent... who betrayed her trust.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

(Some more Miraak and Kisa lore below the cut)

In my blorboverse, Miraak was the one to catalyzed the Soul Magic within Kisa.

Kisa who couldn't control when and how to command it would then spend the next decade becoming a target of organizations that want to get their hands on her and study/exploit her condition.

Each time she ends up on death's door, her magic will start siphoning in any soul essence nearby to restore her being, whether she likes it or not.

Kisa would spend the better part of her young adulthood thinking she's been cursed.

She'll seek out Miraak—who had cut ties with her on the day he helped her, hoping it will keep Mora's attention away from her for a little longer—thinking he would be able to help her but is eventually doomed to find out that this man, the very one who she looked up to like her own parent, was the one who started the series of unfortunate events in her life.

Fail dad Miraak and his wayward child. My doom driven dragonborns, thank you.

#tesfest24 #oc: kisa #miraak #skyrim #JASHDKASd thank you for enabling my brainrot #i love tragic parent dynamic sometimes </3 #their reconciliation is so much more satisfying this way ouawehufysdgghh #digital art #kittystrove #hey new art tag wow #art

71 notes · View notes

jackles010378 · 10 months ago

Text

Intoxicating Pancakes

(Dean Winchester X you)

In honour of shrove Tuesday (pancake day) here in the UK, made me think of this little one shot about Dean, hope you enjoy 🥰

Dean was always a man of simple pleasures: his classic car, a good hunt, and, of course, a delicious breakfast. And there was one thing that always made his heart skip a beat - the sight of y/n in the kitchen, making her famous pancakes.

The bunker was always filled with the mouthwatering aroma of y/n's pancakes on Sunday mornings. There was something about the way she effortlessly mixed the batter, her hair falling loosely around her face as she hummed a soft tune. It was a sight that never failed to make Dean feel alive.

This particular Sunday was no different. As Dean walked into the kitchen, the heavenly scent wrapped around him like a warm embrace. He could barely contain his excitement as he saw y/n by the stovetop, carefully flipping pancakes with a grace that always amazed him.

"Morning, sunshine," Dean greeted, a contagious smile spreading across his face.

"Morning, Dean," y/n replied, her voice carrying a hint of mischief.

Dean's eyes flickered with curiosity but he brushed it off, too engrossed in the prospect of indulging in y/n's culinary masterpiece. He took a seat at the counter, his gaze fixated on her every move.

Y/n gracefully placed a stack of golden pancakes in front of him, she sat across from him with her own plate. As she ate, little droplets of sauce dripped down her chin. Dean's mind began to wander, conjuring up a mischievous thought. He watched as y/n reached up to wipe the sauce away with her thumb. Slowly sucking the sticky treat off her thumb, humming to herself, her movements and sounds fueling Dean's imagination.

Unbeknownst to y/n, her simple gesture had triggered a flood of naughty thoughts inside Dean's mind. Thoughts that strayed far beyond stacks of pancakes and ventured into a sultrier realm.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the kitchen felt charged with a different kind of energy. Dean cleared his throat, trying to shake off the wayward fantasies that threatened to consume him. He reminded himself to focus on the pancakes, on the breakfast he'd been eagerly anticipating all week.

But as Dean's eyes met y/n's, he couldn't ignore the subtle flirtation in her gaze. The sparks between them intensified, dancing in the air like playful fireflies. It was as if y/n had unknowingly picked up on Dean's thoughts and decided to play along.

Dean's heart raced as he saw y/n lean across the counter, her lips just inches away from his ear. Her voice was a low, seductive whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

"You know, Dean," she purred, "pancakes aren't the only thing I'm good at."

Dean's breath caught in his throat, his mind spinning with a medley of desire, anticipation, and a hint of confusion. But in that moment, none of it mattered. All that existed was the undeniable chemistry between them.

As the morning sun painted a golden hue across the bunker, Dean and y/n found themselves lost in a tantalizing dance of flirtation. Their connection grew stronger with each passing moment, the pancakes almost forgotten amidst the charged atmosphere.

With a newfound boldness, Dean reached out, gently tucking a strand of y/n's hair behind her ear. The spark between them ignited into a blazing fire, engulfing them both in a whirlwind of passion.

Hours later, as they lay tangled in each other's arms, the scent of pancakes still lingering in the air, Dean realized that sometimes the simplest pleasures in life could lead to the most unforgettable experiences.

From that day forward, pancakes would always stir within Dean a sense of excitement and a reminder of the intoxicating connection he shared with y/n. And whenever he caught a whiff of that delicious aroma, he couldn't help but smile, knowing that beneath the sweetness of those pancakes lay an everlasting flame of desire.

TAGLIST: @k-slla @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @janineb86 @deans-daydream @alternativeprincess94 @nescavaneck @angelbabyyy99

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #deanwinchtser #jensen ackles gifs #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic

125 notes · View notes

mysticstronomy · 2 months ago

Text

DID LIFE BEGIN IN SPACE??

Blog#449

Wednesday, October 30th, 2024.

Welcome back,

Life, for all its complexities, has a simple commonality: It spreads. Plants, animals and bacteria have colonized almost every nook and cranny of our world.

But why stop there? Some scientists speculate that biological matter may have proliferated across the cosmos itself, transported from planet to planet on wayward lumps of rock and ice. This idea is known as panspermia, and it carries a profound implication: Life on Earth may not have originated on our planet.

In theory, panspermia is fairly simple. Astronomers know that impacts from comets or asteroids on planets will sometimes eject debris with enough force to catapult rocks into space. Some of those space rocks will, in turn, crash into other worlds. A few rare meteorites on Earth are known to have come from Mars, likely in this fashion.

“You can imagine small astronauts sitting inside this rock, surviving the journey,” says Avi Loeb, an astrophysicist at Harvard University and director of the school’s Institute for Theory and Computation. “Microbes could potentially move from one planet to another, from Mars to Earth, from Earth to Venus.”

(You may recognize Loeb’s name from his recent book Extraterrestrial: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth, which garnered headlines and criticism from astronomers for its claim that our solar system was recently visited by extraterrestrials.)

Loeb has authored a number of papers probing the mechanics of panspermia, looking at, among other things, how the size and speed of space objects might affect their likelihood of transferring life.

While Loeb still thinks it’s more likely that life originated on Earth, he says his work has failed to rule out the possibility that it came from somewhere else in space.

Meanwhile, recent experiments have suggested that earthly organisms can survive in space, at least for a little while. Experiments aboard the EXPOSE-E facility at the International Space Station have subjected bacteria, lichens and plant seeds to the extreme cold and radiation of space for anywhere from a few days to over a year. Some bacteria and other organisms were able to survive the journey, including tardigrades, ultra-hardy animals found everywhere from Arctic ice to the deep ocean.

If an asteroid or comet is large enough, microbes could be frozen deep within, Loeb says. That could protect them from radiation and the extreme temperatures that turn meteors into fireballs. After they explode onto the surface of a new world, these extraterrestrial colonists could begin to thrive.

In other solar systems, panspermia could be even more likely to occur than in our own. For example, the seven tightly packed planets of the TRAPPIST-1 system, discovered in 2016, might be ideal for life to planet-hop.

If we find life there one day, Loeb says, we should pay attention to whether it all looks suspiciously similar. He thinks two neighboring planets with similar biological systems would be a sure sign that life had traveled between them at some point.

Loeb also hypothesizes that panspermia could occur even between distant star systems. Interstellar visitors, like the recently observed space object ‘Oumuamua and the comet Borisov, could spread life from system to system.

Such a process could even begin on our own planet. In a paper published in the journal Life, Loeb looked at the possibility that asteroids or comets might graze the Earth’s atmosphere, dozens of miles above the surface, picking up microorganisms floating high in the sky, before heading out on interstellar journeys. He estimates that, though rare, a few such instances have likely occurred during Earth’s lifetime.

Even if an asteroid flyby did pick up a few microbes from Earth, it’s highly unlikely that they would survive the journey, much less land on another planet with conditions similar to ours. But, then again, we can’t necessarily rule it out.

Originally published on https://www.astronomy.com

COMING UP!!

(Saturday, November 2nd, 2024)

"DID TIME OR SPACE EXIST FIRST??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography

49 notes · View notes

whencyclopedia · 22 hours ago

Photo

Colonel Tye

Colonel Tye (c. 1753-1780) was an African-American Loyalist leader who commanded one of the most effective guerilla forces of the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783). Born into slavery, he escaped in 1775 and joined the British cause, leading a Loyalist militia known as the Black Brigade on raids against Patriot militias. He died in September 1780 of wounds sustained during a raid.

Early Life & Escape from Slavery

The man who would become Colonel Tye was born into slavery as Titus, on a farm in Monmouth County, New Jersey, c. 1753. Titus was one of four male slaves owned by John Corlies, a farmer whose land was nestled along the Navesink River, near the town of Shrewsbury. Corlies was, at least ostensibly, a Quaker, although he did not seem to possess many of the qualities valued by the Society of Friends. He did not share the Quaker belief in pacifism and was frequently reprimanded by others in the movement for drinking, cursing, and brawling. More concerning, however, was Corlies' reputation as a cruel slaveowner. He was known to beat Titus and his other slaves for the slightest of infractions, which disturbed many of his fellow Quakers, who found the practice of slavery to be abhorrent.

Indeed, in 1758, the Quakers of New Jersey and Pennsylvania passed an edict with the intention of gradually abolishing slavery within their own ranks. Quaker slaveowners were expected to voluntarily emancipate their slaves upon the slave's 21st birthday (considered the age of adulthood in 18th-century America). Slaves under the age of 21 were to be provided with education in the Quaker ideology and were to be taught how to read and write so that they could be as self-sufficient as possible upon their release. Corlies proved neglectful in these duties; he did not provide his slaves with education and failed to emancipate Titus upon his 21st birthday around 1774. In the autumn of 1775, Corlies was visited by a delegation of New Jersey Quakers, who urged the wayward slaveowner to educate and free his slaves or risk expulsion from the Quaker movement. Corlies, a quick-tempered man, was only angered by the ultimatum and doubled down on his behavior; the Quakers left the Corlies farm after having been told that Corlies "has not seen it his duty to give their freedom" (Hodges, 91).

Titus had undoubtedly observed the visit of the Quaker delegation and was aware as to why they had come. He also would have known that most other 21-year-old slaves with Quaker masters had already been freed, a fact that would have further hardened his heart against his own harsh master. By this point, the excited fervor that underscored the American Revolution (1765-1789) had seeped its way into Monmouth County; as New Jersey Patriots loudly pontificated about American liberty and freedom from the slavery of Great Britain, the people who were actually enslaved in the county wondered what all this meant for them. At night, groups of Monmouth County slaves would sneak off their masters' properties and hold meetings, where they discussed if their own personal freedoms might fit within the broader Patriot movement; as if in answer, the town of Shrewsbury authorized the arrests of all "slaves, Mulattos, and Negroes found off their masters' premises" after dark (Hodges, 94).

It was around this time, November 1775, that Titus made his escape from his master's farm. Shortly thereafter, John Corlies put out an advertisement offering a reward for the return of Titus, who Corlies described as being:

About 21 years of age, not very black, near six foot high, had on a gray homespun coat, brown breeches, blue and white stockings and took with him a wallet drawn up at one end with a string in which was a quantity of clothes (Hodges, 92).

So, with only a bag full of clothes to his name, Titus evaded the slave catchers and moved south toward Norfolk, Virginia. There, he expected to find his freedom; but it was the British, not the liberty-loving Patriots, who he expected would give it to him.

#History #AmericanRevolution #AmericanRevolutionaryWar #AmericanWarofIndependence #WHE #[#]

26 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 3 months ago

Text

Hush Hush (Valentino x Charlie)

CW: Dub/Non con, leaning hard toward noncon, Valentino is in hell for a reason, Valentino is a warning on his own, Mirror sex, belly bulge, suggested nonconsensual recording. Rated: Adult Summary: Charlie has had enough of Angel Dust coming back to the hotel broken. She was the princess of hell, surely she could make a deal Valentino would have no choice but to agree to. There was no price too high to buy her friend's freedom but when it comes time to pay the cost, is she willing to?

Requested by @crackrodent on the @voxtekinc discord server: yall know how Val has Angels soul and like thats clearly holding him back from working on himself more? What if Charlie decided enough was enough and went down to demand he free him from the contract but instead Val and Charlie made a deal? One night. No one can know. Then Angel will be free.

Charlie’s heels clicked through the long empty halls, garish pinks, purples and golds splashed across the walls all around her. Her palms were sweaty as she pulled her shoulder back and held her head up high. She reminded herself that she was not just a nobody, going to ask the overlord of the porn district for a favor.

She was the Princess of Hell and she would do whatever she must in order to ensure he met her demands. There had to be something Valentino wanted she could give him in exchange for the voiding of Angel Dust’s contract. They could surely identify a fair exchange that would meet both their needs.

Charlie was sure of one thing: she was done watching her friend return to the hotel broken after a night of abuse at the studio. Angel Dust had shown great promise for her redemption project, and beyond that, he had become a valued friend. She needed, no, she would see him out of the shackles that held his progress back.

The small demon motioned to a large, closed door as he stopped next to it. “He’s expecting you.”

She thought about knocking before deciding against it. This may not be her hotel, but he was one of her subjects. She was in charge here. Not him.

The doors opened with a whisper, hinges well lubricated, like everything and everyone else in Valentino’s life.

“Princesa!” The moth demon never failed to be imposing, even when putting on an air of welcome, as he was doing now. He stood with his arms- all four- outstretched and inviting and hunched slightly at the waist and up his back. It was an attempt to lower his otherwise dominating stature, even among the denizens of hell. “What brings you to my humble studio this hellish morning? I doubt you’re here about a role, but-”

“I’m not.” Charlie said firmly before faltering and adding a softer, “Thank you, though.” That she didn’t mean.

“Then come, sit down.” Valentino was eager to see what business the wayward princess had with him.

Charlie walked toward the couches near where Valentino stood. There was a moment of hesitation before she sat down, back straight and shoulders tense. It was better to not think about what was likely soaked into the fabric of the couch, let alone what would have happened on the couch to put those things there.

“I wish to discuss Angel Dust’s contract.” Valentino laughed at her bold statement. The Morningstar family had a long history of keeping their fingers out of the business of the overlords, who functioned largely as their governors. “I’d like to buy him out.”

“He isn’t for sale.”

“Everyone has a price,” Charlie started, resisting the urge to rub her sweaty palms along her pants to dry them. “I may try to see the best in people, but I grew up here. I know everything can be bought and sold. What’s your price?”

“You.” Valentino said after a moment, smile pulling wide to show off his golden tooth and causing his eyes to squint slightly.

“Think of something else,” Charlie said, failing to keep her voice as strong and steady as she wanted. “I’m not working for you. It should be a fair trade.”

“Fine, fine!” One of his long purple hands waved the thought away. “You can’t fault a man for trying, can you?” Charlie was about to answer that she could when he continued speaking. “One night.”

“I’m sorry?” Charlie leaned back, putting more space between her and the too large bug.

“In exchange for the contract for your little friend, I get one night with you. No cameras and no one can know.” Valentino watched every move she made, pulling a long drag off the cigarette he held in one of his hands. “We must protect your darling little reputation, after all.”

“I- I don’t know.” Charlie pulled a lip between her teeth, eyes focusing on her hands. She had a girlfriend at the hotel, someone she loved dearly. Her relationship with Vaggie was closed, monogamous and committed. She couldn’t-

“One night.” Valentino pressed, “No one knows. A deal just between you and me and after I’ve had my fun, the contract will transfer.”

“I can’t,” Charlie whispered.

“Angel would do it for you,” Valentino said, sitting back and narrowing his eyes. “And you call yourself his friend? No one would find out. We both tell no one. Easy.”

“Okay.” Charlie closed her eyes, ignoring the sting of betrayal. “Okay. You have a deal. When?”

“Tonight.” Valentino said. “Right here. Be back at nine.”

“What is wrong with you?” Vaggie stepped out from behind one of the scraggly trees, hardly clinging to life along the road that lead from the hotel to the city. Just around the corner, a car was waiting to take her make good on the cursed deal she had made.

“N-nothing.” Charlie stuttered, tripping over the word and her own feet as Vaggie leveled her with a look she couldn’t read. “I’m just… going out.”

“You’re almost as bad of a lier as I am.” Vaggie’s shoulders slumped as she stepped up to her much taller girlfriend. “What’s wrong? Why are you sneaking out?”

“I can’t tell you,” Charlie whispered, looking away. Shame was plastered on her face.

“You can always tell me anything,” Vaggie said, reaching out to wiggle her fingers into Charlie’s palm, holding her hand softly.

“I can’t though,” Charlie said. “He said I can’t.”

“No one gets to tell you what you can tell me,” Vaggie whispered, eyebrows furrowed. “If you won’t’ tell me what’s going on, at least let me go with you.”

“Vaggie,” Charlie sighed, finally meeting the eyes of the woman she loved. “It’s Valentino. I- I lied to you earlier. We made a deal that’ll get Angel free. I just have to take care of something first.”

“Why did you say nothing came of it then?” Charlie’s heart broke as Vaggie’s grip on her hand went lax, hand falling away. “You lied to me. To everyone. Why?”

“I- I wasn’t sure if I could follow through with it.”

“What does he want?” Vaggie crossed her arms. To anyone else, it would have looked arrogant or cold, but Charlie knew the position well. It was one Vaggie took when she was hurting, trying to hold herself together and protect herself.

“Me,” Charlie whispered, “for a night.”

“You were not going to tell me?” Vaggie’s eyes grew glassy.

“He said I couldn’t-”

“You can always tell me everything,” Vaggie dropped her arms, hesitantly reaching out for Charlie again. “You do this and Angel is free?”

“Yeah,” Charlie whispered. “I’m- I’m going to do it. I’m going to save him.”

“Okay,” Vaggie whispered, taking Charlie’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “Okay. If you’re sure you can do this, be safe.”

“I will,” Charlie sniffled as the shorter woman reached up to wipe tears from her cheeks. Charlie leaned into the touch.

“I love you,” Vaggie said simply. “I will always love you.”

“I love you, too.” Charlie whispered, heart swelling at the soft smile on Vaggie’s face. “I should-”

“Get going.” Vaggie finished for her. “I’ll wait up for you.”

Charlie stood in the dim halls of Vee tower, in front of the same double doors she had entered before. Most of the lights in the tower were off or dimmed, reflecting the late hour and giving a warmth to the cold tiles of the tower.

She didn’t want to go inside. She didn’t want to do this. The last thing she wanted was to feel Valentino’s hands on her, to experience what being with him was like.

A familiar laugh carried down the hall, bouncing off tiles from around the corner. Angel Dust had to work tonight.

That was why she was doing this. That was why she was here. For him. This was for him. Everything was for him. She would do whatever she had to in order to buy his freedom.

The knob turned easily under her hand as Angel’s voice drew closer. There was no more time to back out or think about it. She had to move forward for him.

The door whispered shut as Angel dust turned the corner in the hall and the clocks flipped from 8:59 to 9pm.

“Welcome, Princesa.” Valentino’s voice came from close behind her, a greeting punctuated by the sound of a lock turning. “I’ve removed every camera in the room. Not even Voxy can watch us.”

“How can I trust you?” Charlie turned, facing the tall purple man wearing a coat made of his wings.

“A deal is a deal,” Valentino shrugged both sets of his shoulders, “The deal was no cameras and I’m holding up my end of the deal.”

Charlie looked around, trying to remind herself to take deep breaths. The set was dark and just as Valentino had promised, there was no sign of the camera equipment. Tall mirrors lined two of the walls, warm accent lights bathing it in a soft light. The set lights sat dark, leaving the space dim. The large bed sat in a black wrought iron frame, sweeping curves of cold black metal extending up to form a headboard.

At the foot of the bed sat a small loveseat upholstered royal purple velvet that looked so soft, even from a distance. If she didn’t look at where the warm bedroom set gave way to a cold studio, it could just have been a regular bedroom. It wasn’t, though.

“Everything is clean,” Valentino said as he watched her examine the set. “The couch is new. Only the best for my royal guest.”

“Okay.” Charlie squared her shoulders and took one last deep breath. It was time to get this over and done with.

“Wait,” Valentino said as she unbuttoned her pants.

“What?” Charlie blinked up at him, hopeful that perhaps Valentino had a change of heart.

“You’re just going to take your pants off?” Valentino asked, pouring two glasses of champagne with his upper set of hands. His lower hands were crossed above his hips.

“I have to for us to…”

Valentino sighed, a large and dramatic motion as he passed her the glass. “Yes, yes- that is required, but let us talk first. Come now, Chica.”

“What is there to talk about?” Charlie followed as Valentino walked deeper into the room, closer to the camera free set.

“I’m not your typical flavor of partner,” Val started. “But when your partner isn’t to your tastes, I find some alcohol and drugs can make things more palatable. I have a selection, if you wish to partake.”

“Oh! No, I couldn’t-”

“It isn’t my intention for you to not enjoy our encounter,” Valentino said, walking his fingers up her arm. “Though it’s not something you’re seeking out.”

“I- I’m sure it’s going to be fine. I’ll-”

“If you change your mind…” Valentino brushed the blond locks from where they rested on Charlie’s shoulder. “Until then, shall we begin?”

“Yes,” Charlie nodded, attempting to step away from the man who slotted himself close behind her, only to have one of his lower arms snake around her waist, pulling her back flush against his front.

“We’re going to do this right,” Valentino purred from above her. Charlie was used to being one of the tallest people in a room but pressed up to Valentino, the reality that he had at least a solid head on her confronted her. “I get just one night with you.”

“One time,” Charlie said, voice shaking slightly as long purple fingers worked the buttons of her jacket free. Another hand ran over her shoulder, pushing the fabric back and down her arms. It was surreal, feeling so three hands on her at once.

“One night,” Valentino said, tossing the empty champagne glass off to the side, not flinching when it shattered on the cold tiled floor. “so I’m going to be sure to get my fill at this rather royal feast…”

He stepped back, having to put distance between them for him to have the space to lean down, curling his spine to allow him to kiss softly along the side of her neck. Greedy hands ran along her waist as more hands worked the buttons of her blouse open.

His touch was soft. His kisses were tender and nothing like she had expected from the porn overlord.

“Relax,” Valentino whispered in her ear, pointed tongue running along the shell of her ear, “I’ll make you feel good.”

“I wasn’t planning on getting this undressed,” Charlie swallowed thickly, wanting to run from the hand that was running along her stomach, taking in the feel of naked skin.

“That’s alright,” Valentino laughed, “I don’t mind if you didn’t dress up for the occasion. The present is just as fine, wrapped in silk or burlap.”

“Oh,” Charlie wasn’t sure how to answer as he guided the shirt off her shoulders.

Unlike her jacket, it gathered around her forearms, held up by the tails tucked into her slacks. It acted as a makeshift restraint, limiting her range of motion as his hands took in the feel of her torso.

“Walk forward now,” Valentino said, guiding her as a pink haze slowly seeped into the room, too light for the woman in his arms to notice. He had to tread carefully, just enough to make her pliable, to relax her, but not enough that she would notice the sticky sweet scent of his pheromones in the air. “We’ll get started,”

“Okay,” fear was thick in her voice along with something else that she didn’t want to think about.

One foot in front of the other, Charlie walked closer to the stage. It’s okay. She just had to keep telling herself it was alright. She wasn’t betraying Vaggie. She had to do this for Angel Dust. It had to happen, so it was okay to not fight against it.

“Valentino?” Charlie whispered as she stepped onto the set.

“You can call me ‘Val’,” he whispered in her ear, “at least for tonight.”

“There are no cameras, right Val?”

Running a hand up her torso, he cupped her breast through the smooth fabric of her simple bra. No lace, no pretty designs. Just a simple white bra that was functional and comfortable. There was a beauty in such everyday choices. He would forever know the style of bra the Princess of Hell favored for her everyday wear- what a unique treat!

Her heart pounded under his fingers. She tensed in his arms for a moment before her back arched into the touch.

“No cameras,” he promised, eyes glowing hot pink and smile wide, “I promise.”

“Okay,” he tamed his smile as her shoulders relaxed against his chest, opening herself up to his touch ever so slightly.

“Turn around for me,” he ordered, fingers of his lower hands guiding her hips through the spin. A pink blush was dark on her cheeks, threatening to obscure the circles that marked her cheeks so much like her father’s in the color’s depth. “You’re such a pretty woman.”

“Thank you,” Charlie struggled with taking a compliment from the porn demon.

“I won’t kiss you, don’t worry.” Val teased as he placed soft, open-mouthed kisses along her shoulder. “Out of respect for your girlfriend, of course, unless you want me to.”

She nodded, not really able to form words as four hands ran over bare skin, each moving in different directions. His upper arms ran along her shoulders, down her upper back to unclasp her bra. The lower set of hands worked the button of her pants open and shimmied them down her hips along with the equally simple panties. The did not match the bra she wore, clearly a part of a different set, put on out of random selection or comfort and not with the desire to impress.

Valentino’s coat fluttered back, wings unwrapping and shifting to their true cape like state. White fluffy hair extended up from the center of his chest, forming a fur collar that wrapped around his neck and extended midway down his upper back in a matching point.

He stood in front of her, bare chested except for a golden chain that ran between the nipple rings fastened to each of his nipples, hanging in a slight golden arch. He took her hand in his, bringing it to his hip as his three other hands continued to caress over her waist, hips and back.

“You can touch me,” Valentino’s laugh seemed to wrap around her as he guided her back deeper onto the set. His hand over hers guided it through sliding over the taut muscles of his abdomen. “I don’t bite… unless you want me to.”

Charlie’s eyes ran over his form, trying to spark desire and attraction for him. It was difficult when every time she blinked, she saw Vaggie in her mind. This had to happen. She had to do it for Angel Dust. She had to do it.

He wasn’t an unattractive man, all things considered. There were far worse forms Sinners could find themselves with upon landing in hell. It took effort to force herself to appreciate every ridge of his muscles, toned and refined, to be as pleasing to the eye as possible.

His pants hang low on his hips, a large buckle reflecting off the dim lights. The bulge in his pants was intimidating, even to someone who had long grown desensitized to the vulgar sights and sounds of hell.

“Where would you feel more comfortable?” Valentino asked, palm grazing over the swell of her breast. With her pants no longer supporting her shirt, it and her unclasped bra fell to the ground as he continued walking them closer to the set he promised was clean. “The bed? The couch? Perhaps the floor?”

“Bed.” Charlie decided, looking over her shoulder at her options only to gasp as Valentino pinched her nipple softly, chest arching into the touch as shock and a spark of pleasure battled. “Why did you-”

“Sensitive, aren’t we?” Valentino purred as he walked her toward the bed. “We have to start somewhere or we’ll never finish, right?”

“Oh,” she hesitated, “right.”

“Why don’t you lay back,” Valentino said as the backs of her knees bumped against the firm mattress, “and let me make you feel good?”

“Let’s just get it done?” Charlie said, fingers working his belt buckle free.

“I wish to savor the encounter, Princesa. There’s no reason to rush it.” As he spoke, he guided her to sit on the bed.

He sank to his knees, though his height still made him have to slouch down. He parted her legs, though they were tense and required urging to open her core up to him. Oh, what a sight she made. Had any other lowly Sinner seen the Princess’ core or the soft blond curls that framed it?

“But I- Oh!”

Charlie’s words were cut off the moment she felt Valentino’s long, thin tongue run up her slit. It was a strange feeling, much unlike the feeling of Vaggie when she would do similar. Valentino wasted no time working his tongue up and down her folds.

One set of hands gripped her thighs, holding her open to him as she looked down at his bald head, feather like antenna swaying as his head moved more so than the shorter damaged one. His other hands gripped her lower back, pulling her toward the edge of the bed.

The point of his tongue traced her clit, curling around the nub as she sucked in a breath. The air was sweet, she realized, likely from whatever the studio used to clean the fabrics. It was a nice smell; she thought as she let out a shaky breath.

“Val,” she whispered as her back arched.

He smiled, tasting her slick as her body gave into the stimulation. Wrapping his lips around her clit, he gave it a suck that was rewarded with another breathy gasp. She wasn’t giving into him easily, but she was giving in. It was just a matter of time before she was screaming his name.

The nub was tense, engorged, as he ran his tongue over it one last time. The unique shape of his tongue, so long and pointed, made it easy to worm into her tight hole, now slick with arousal. She was tight, not virginally so, but tight enough that he was excited to split her open.

He drank from her, tongue working in and out as she leaned back on her elbows. Glowing pink eyes looked up at her, enjoying the view of her small breasts shifting with every panting breath she took. Oh, she was enjoying this but doing everything she could to hide it.

Fingers caressed her clit as his tongue searched inside her for the places that would pull the princess of hell’s muscles tight. Muscles jumped and her core twitched when he found the right place.

Hands ran over Charlie’s body. A palm gripped her breast, fingers pinching her nipple between knuckles. It felt like his hands were everywhere, a benefit of having so many to one man. He held her thighs open, fingers wrapping easily around much of her thighs. She arched into him as his mouth returned to her clit, working over and around it with skill that came with decades of professional experience.

A fingertip breached her opening, caressing her from the inside out in curling motions that had her gasping for air. He greedily explored her body as walls were ripped down, stripped away in the face of pure pleasure.

It was alright to let go, a sickly sweet voice whispered in the back of her mind. It sounded like her, almost. Vaggie would want her to enjoy herself. She had to do this to save Angel. There was no reason to punish herself for it. It was alright. She could-

“I’m going to- to cum,” she whined, hips rocking against his mouth, “Val-”

Her body went stiff, each muscle pulled tight under his ministrations before everything jerked, muscles spasming. He could feel each convulsion of her body running through her thighs and up her torso. The grip of her core on his finger with each spasm had him painfully hard, straining against his pants.

He took a hand from her, thankful to still have so many on her as he pushed her through her orgasm, to unfasten his pants. The sweet relief of the pressure had him sighing into her core as his finger slipped out.

Charlie blinked the fog from her eyes as she watched Valentino rise above her, pants falling slowly down his hips. It surprised her that his pubic hair was more akin to the soft white fur that made up his collar. The thought was quickly washed away as his cock sprang up, no longer restrained by the pants as he worked them down his thighs.

He was long and far thicker than any man had any business being. Worry coursed through her as she failed to take her eyes from him. The head of his cock was a deep dark purple, weeping already. The color faded down the veiny shaft toward the much lighter violet that was his general skin tone.

“Holy shit,” Charlie whispered, slapping her hand over her mouth as soon as she realized the words had left her.

“Thank you,” Valentino smiled widely, taking her shock as a compliment.

“It’s not going to fit.” The bed creaked as she scooted back.

Valentino had no issue making up the distance, easily covering her with his body. He caged her in with his upper arms and grabbed her waist, holding her in place. Weak legs gave little resistance as his knees pushed them apart.

“Valentino, it’s too big.” Her voice was panicked as the wide head of his cock nestled against her entrance. “I can’t. There’s no way. It won’t fit.”

“It will,” Valentino said, grinning down at her as he rubbed the head of his cock around her folds, collecting slick. “I’ll make it fit.”

Charlie gasped, hands reaching for the arms Valentino was using to support his upper body. It burned as his cock breached her opening, stretching it far wider than it was used to. He hadn’t done her the kindness of really prepping her for the stretch, though she knew he was aware of his size from the grin on his face alone.

Nails dug into his arms. By the very nature of what and who she was, she had little issues breaking his skin with her grip. That didn’t bother Valentino as he pushed deeper inside her. The hands gripping her waist prevented her from squirming away from him, though that didn’t stop her from trying.

A rich whine escaped his throat as she twitched around him, muscles gripping and rippling over his cock as he pushed past all attempts to keep him out. Her back arched as he filled her, nipples catching on the chain that hung from his. Stilling for a moment, he admired the way it draped over the bud of her nipple.That moment didn’t last long. Before she had a chance to adjust to his considerable girth, Valentino was pushing in again.

“I can’t,” Charlie whimpered, hips squirming as she tried to fight away from the burning stretch. He spread her so wide around him that she could feel the drag of his cock, pushing by the numb of her clit. Never had she thought she could spread so widely.

“You are,” Valentino praised, “You’re taking my cock so good. Like a dream.”

“It burns,” she whined, tears gathering in her wide eyes.

“It’ll feel good,” he promised, nearly choking at the way she gripped his cock. It was nearly painful in the best kind of way.

He held her in place, inching in slowly until he bottomed out. She was gasping for air, thighs spread open wide as she instinctually tried to open herself for him. There was nothing she could have done to prevent the burning pain.

There was no loving pause to let her get used to him. As soon as adjusted his knees, he was pulling back and slamming into her, setting a harsh pace that knocked the air from her lungs. She gripped his arms, instinct telling her to hold on to him, hold on to anything to ground herself.

His hands planted on her narrow waist kept her body anchored to the bed as his thick cock pulled against the walls struggling to accommodate him. Breathy moans mixed with her begging pleas for mercy as each push of his cock inside her ran its length over the nub of her clit.

“V- val-,” she panted his name, hips tilting as she chased the clitoral stimulation. The burning pain hadn’t been replaced with pleasure like books always promised it would. Instead, it mixed with the pleasure, tainting it and making it something different, something more.

“You’re so close,” Val said, climbing off of her. Her hips chased him, not willing to give up the feeling of painful fullness or the stretch that came with it until her body had no choice.

The void inside her had never felt greater. The denied orgasm had tears in her eyes as her hands fell onto her body, shamelessly caressing her skin as she sought any sort of sensation.

Valentino held her thighs apart, taking a moment to enjoy the simple sight of her hole, spread so wide by him that his absence left it gaping. Creamy slick spread on her skin, leaking from her as she fluttered around nothing. That same slick was cooking on his cock, a delectable contrast to the burning heat he had found inside her.

“Please,” Charlie whimpered, a single tear of frustration slipping down the side of her face.

“Don’t worry, chica.” Val caressed her leg. “On your knees, and I’ll give you what you need. Then we’ll be all done and you can go home to Vaggie.”

“Vaggie,” Charlie gasped, coming into herself a bit more at the name. She hadn’t expected to have been so carried away by the feeling of his cock inside her. “We’re almost done?”

“Yes, we’ll be done,” Valentino cooed in her ear as he helped her onto her knees.

He laughed as she positioned herself, facing away from the mirrors. That was alright, for now at least. Valentino climbed onto the bed behind her, hands caressing her back and waist. A hand reached around, palming her breast.

“Yes,” Valentino promised, pulling some of the light fog from around the bed, giving her room to breathe. He wanted her head clear when he made her cum.

She was nearly as tight as the first time as he sank into her again. This time he did not spare her any kindness, plunging into her with a quick thrust of his hips. He held her around the waist, fingers digging into skin as she cried out.

Once he was sheathed within her, he adjusted their position on the bed. Lifting her by the hips, he gave her no choice as he walked her up the bed, toward where the headboard was backed to the mirrors.

His eyes glowed a hot pink as his cock twitched inside her tight fluttering cunt. Even just the jostling of him inside her as he positioned them had her moaning softly. It wouldn’t take long at all to have her cuming, not with the way she spread tightly around him.

He fucked into her harshly, thankful for the blessing of having so many hands. He reached around her, pressing against her lower abdomen. He could feel his cock inside her with each thrust forward. He folded over her, two hands gripping her breasts as his pace became punishing.

Breasts bounced in his hands, nipples pulling against where his knuckles trapped them with each thrust. Sweet moans fell from her lips as her arms failed to support her. She gripped him like a vice. There had been a point when her body struggled to make room for him, it now struggled to let him pull away.

Wet squelching filled the room as her slick ran down her thighs. It coated his thighs, long strings of it hanging from his heavy balls. They slapped against her cunt, making up for what little clitoral stimulation she had lost with the change of position.

“You’re so close, I can feel it.” Valentino said as she clinched around him, gasps falling from her lips.

“Vah, vah, vah-” tears ran down her face as he shifted his hands. His lower hand remained planted on her stomach, pushing into her. The hand that had been gripping her hip shifted up, replacing one of the upper hands on her breast. The newly freed upper hand wrapped around her hair, pulling her head up from where it had hung limp.

“Val,” she cried out as he pulled her up, forcing her to look into the mirror.

“Your girlfriend is so lucky,” Valentino said as he fucked into her, “to get to watch you cum as often as she wants.”

“So close,” Charlie cried, as he pressed into her abdomen harder. The sweet pain of being split in half by his thick cock and the stinging pain of his fist in her hair had her crying out as her eyes screwed shut. “V-val!”

“Open them,” He leaned forward, voice dripping into her ear. “Open your eyes and watch.”

Charlie cried out, eyes opening wide as she locked eyes with her reflection in the mirror. Just as Valentino ordered, she watched as he fucked her. She watched as her breast bounced in his hand. She could see her stomach bulge forward under his hand with every thrust.

“I’m going to- Val! Val!” She didn’t know if she was begging for him to give her more, to go at her harder or to give her a break from the punishing pace.

“Right on the edge?” Val asked, and she nodded, throat tight as he twitched inside her, somehow finding room to do so in her stretched canal.

“I want you to listen to me as you cum on my cock,” Valentino said, watching her reflection, “Can you do that for me?”

“I- Ah, I- I, Ah, Ah!” Charlie struggled to get any words out, struggled to think around the feeling of his too large cock running through her. She was so close, so painfully close to cuming apart.

“You can do that for me, can’t you Princess?” Val cooed in her ear, “or I won’t let you come. We can do this all night. I can go all night and you don’t want that, do you?”

“No,” Charlie’s eyes widened, not sure if she was trembling at the prospect of not getting to cum soon or going longer. “Please, Please Val, Val I want to- Val.”

“You’ll listen then?” Valentino smiled wider, fucking into her faster somehow. “Because your lovely little girlfriend is waiting for you at home, isn’t see?”

“Yes,” Charlie cried out as he pulled her hips higher, adjusting the angle to ensure her clit felt ever drag of his cock. “Yes. Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, Val, please. I’ll, I’m going to-”

“Good girl, Val said, groaning as he felt her squeeze him tighter, cunt convulsing around him as he pushed her over the edge.

He pulled her head higher, forcing her to make eye contact with him in the mirror as she cried out his name. He fucked her through the waves of her orgasm. Each drag of his cock through her convulsing walls pulled him closer to his finish.

“I know,” He hissed in her ear, grunting as his cock twitched deep inside her. With a moan, his orgasm came over him, moving quicker as he spilled hot ropes of cum into her.

“I know,” he repeated, pulling her hair as he fucked his cum inside her, “Ah! Fuck,” He moaned deeply before regaining the ability to think through the aftershocks of his orgasm. She twitched, overstimulation keeping her on the edge of another orgasm.

“What?” She breathed, wanting nothing more than for him to stop and yet wanting nothing more than for him to keep moving. “Too much.”

“I know,” Val fucked his cum into her even as it bubbled out around her hole.

There simply wasn’t enough room inside her for his load and his cock as he continued to thrust. Thick globs of cum ran down her legs as he pulled her to stand on her knees. She could feel every flex of his muscles as he thrust into her. THe force of the trusts caused her breasts to bounce.

“I felt it,” He said as tears ran down her cheeks. “When you told. You couldn’t help it, could you? It was your little girlfriend you told, wasn’t it?”

“What?” Charlie gasped, fog of her orgasm beginning to clear. “What are you- Ah!” Her thought was interrupted as he reached around, slapping per pubic mound with a hand, fingers crashing against her overly sensitive clit.

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” Val sneered, letting his cock pull from her abused hole, smearing her slick and his cum against her back. “I felt it, the moment you voided the deal.”

“Voided?” Charlie jerked out of his arms, trembling legs struggling to hold her up. She crossed her arms over her chest, backing as far away from Val as she could. “What do you mean, ‘voided’?”

Valentino stood from the bed, watching her as she curled her legs up, hiding as much of her body as she could from his eyes. It was pointless;, he had seen it all, felt it all.

“You told someone,” Valentino said, shrugging his shoulders. “The deal voided.”

“You knew that and didn’t- You didn’t tell me?” Charlie wanted to scream, throw something, rage. She wanted to do anything but face the reality of what had happened.

“You’ve got an hour to clean up.” Valentino wrapped his wings around his body in a coat, not bothering to put his pants on. “Angel Dust will need this studio in a few hours for a shoot. The crew will be in shortly to set up the cameras again, well- Most of them at least- so you may want to hurry,”

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

#Valentino x charlie #val x charlie #Charlie x val #Charlie x Valentino #valentino fanfiction #val fanfiction #valentino fanfic #Redfoxtober2024

35 notes · View notes

fishfingersandjellybabies · 5 months ago

Note

Family line for Damian 🥺🥺 please?

His parents are monsters. Violent, dark, dangerous. Angry.

But he loves them anyway.

He loves them, but he fears them. Fears both of their blood running through his veins.

Because they've hurt him. They've both hurt him. His first dozen years were nothing but hurt at their hands.

But he doesn't want to hurt anyone. Not anymore. Not ever again.

So it isn't Scarecrow's fear toxin that has him trembling in his room after a rough night out in the city. It's watching his father beat a thief to within an inch of his life with his bare hands. It's the flashback that caused, of his mother mother finishing off a failed assassin when he was a child with her dullest blade.

It's the darkness he feels rumbling through his own veins, that bleeds out when he fights, or when he yells, and someone says "You look just like your father." "You look just like your mother."

He wished he didn't. God he wished he didn't.

But as he shakes in silence, drowning in self-loathing and the panic of what-ifs - his door opens.

Drake comes in, but doesn't even look up from his phone. Just walks a memorized path across the room before flopping onto the end of Damian's bed unannounced.

Duke and Jason wander in next, already arguing about who the real hero of this month's Wayne family book club novel actually was. They drop to the floor in front of his fireplace, Jason only giving him a quick glance.

Cassandra comes in next, with Dick right behind her. They each curl up on either side of Damian, Dick resting his arm across the bed's headboard, with Cass all but cocooning Damian in the safety of her embrace.

That's right. The rest of his family. The ones to whom blood never mattered.

Nature versus nurture, that's what Grayson and Alfred tried to instill in him so many years ago.

His Nature was Bruce Wayne. Talia al Ghul.

His nurture was Dick Grayson. Stephanie Brown. Jason Todd. Cassandra Cain.

"You're good." Cass whispers in his ear, like she can read this thoughts. They all must be able to, why else would they all congregate in his room like this, other than to comfort? "Always will be."

"Always have been." Dick mumbles absently, scrolling through his phone like Drake is, hand ruffling Damian's hair. "And don't you forget it."

And for a moment, the fear wanes. For a moment, it's replaced with warmth and calm. Because yeah, he was the son of Bruce Wayne. The son of Talia al Ghul.

But he was also the child of these wayward birds too. And they were the best of them all.

#damian wayne #cassandra cain #dick grayson #bee writing challenge #asks #midnightdreamerposts

45 notes · View notes

achaotichuman · 3 months ago

Text

Creature, Dark And Twisted

Hello everyone!!! This is for Day 4 of @sjmvillainweek !! I am using the prompt Behind Closed Doors.

Originally this was a oneshot I had exploring an idea for Amarantha's Other Daemati, and I decided to expand on it, because I have an idea to make it into a longer fic. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Summary:

The High Queen has been defeated. The Cursebreaker has fled to the Night Court, and been made it's High Lady. Under The Mountain is just dust and filth. The War has passed and life moves on. As people attempt to gain a sense of normalcy once more, they fail to notice a shadow that slips through the cracks. Taking as he pleases and trying to fill his suddenly empty scheldule.

Amarantha's other Daemati, Ayran, is little more than a shell of what he become during the fifty years of Amarantha's reign. But one of his crimes still stands as the rest of the world rebuilds, and Morrigan is determined to force him to undo it.

Read below cut or on Ao3

Hybern was a fun little project, but he quickly lost interest. When the War broke out, Aryan realised it was not his scene. He had never cared so much for fighting and battles. Favouring flirtatious barbed words in a Court, dancing filling his veins and music becoming his every breath. He wanted to drink and fuck and feast, but righting was not on his list.

Slithering through the lands now, he was barely noticeable, no one remembering the secret hand of Amarantha, the glorious woman who had elevated him to a position of immense power. Before promptly dropping dead and leaving him to rot.

He did not envy the Lord of Night. For the whore had been killed long ago, replaced by a monster, only mentally of course. Rhysand of the Night Court fought hard against Amarantha, so in entered Aryan, to destroy the Night Lord's thick-headed mind and replace it with that of a purring creature that was content to sit and wait, to watch.

It was when the creature began to mix with the memories that Aryan had left that he became a problem. Mixing with that mating bond, it became twined around the Cursebreaker. Panting after her like a dog lost to hunger. Licking tears from her face, and following her like a devotee. Aryan had scoffed and spat on it, but of course the creature only cared for its own pleasure and the needs of the Queen.

Mixing with the memories Aryan had left, it turned into an alternate version of the Night Lord. One who knew all about the actual Night Lord's life, but was far more sinister, crueler, more careless and wayward. No longer did he lust after the Spring Lord, but rather wished him a swift and brutal death. He wished to fuck and breed the pretty cursebreaker and continue the Night Lord dynasty.

As if the mating bond was its new master.

Aryan had found it quite interesting, but after months of following around his creature. Peering in the City of Velaris which he had found in the Night Lords mind, he saw what it did. Soon he grew tired of it.

Instead he now wandered. Bored, and bored, and bored.

Now, he stood in an inn. Thick black hair tied into a bun at the nape of his neck. Darkened skin gleaming in the light. His dark eyes watching the keeper count out the bag of gold he had thrown down.

"This isn't eno-" The keeper began to say.

Aryan's eyes glowed gold. And the keeper began to say instead, "Oh! Yes this will be fine, come this way uh... Daemon."

"With pleasure." Aryan murmured. He had once heard all Daemati were strange and quietly cruel. He supposed, thinking of his mother, and her powerful abilities to control the mind, it must be true. She had never been a kind soul after all.

Rather she taught him the joys of cruelty and shamelessness. How Fae were creatures of the mind and of party. To enjoy every selfish pleasure he could steal from others.

His room was good enough. All clean and beautifully made. The biggest room in the inn, he would be gone before first light but that did not mean he wished for a cheap room, even though he had only the money for a cheap room.

He could have not paid at all, but really he did have some kind of a heart, and giving the old man some sort of money was as generous as he got.

Really the male should be thankful he got away with his mind intact.

Aryan undressed, lounging in his nakedness and falling into a chair by the window, the curtains pulled shut and the fire roaring. He basked in his power which writhed under his skin and listened to the gentle hum of his own heart.

At some point, his hand travelled further down, but before he could give himself any kind of pleasure, a golden orb appeared before him. He rolled his eyes but released his dick and covered his skin with a nearby fluffy blanket before lightly tapping the orb.

A female's form appeared before him. She lifted a golden eyebrow and looked him up and down, "Really?"

"You're interrupting a very handsome man's night, what did you expect?" Aryan purred.

"You're the cheapest whore I ever did see." Morrigan said as she crossed her arms.

"Yet Amarantha paid me in jewels and gold." He replied.

"Still hung up over that evil bitch are we?" She scowled.

"What do you want, little gold one?" Aryan said as he examined his nails.

"I have your price." Morrigan said. Aryan grinned.

"You know the rules, my love."

"Just tell me where you are." She demanded.

"The rules are, you come to me... and perhaps we can put that beautiful body to some use as well." Aryan told her, knowing the female would never go for him. His sister, another story.

Morrigan screamed and her form disappeared as she ended the spell. Aryan threw his head back as he laughed. So easy to rile up, so easy to torment.

The Morrigan had found him once. She could find him again.

She had exiled the ‘Other Daemati’ Amarantha had used. He had been thrown from his place in the Hewn City for his servitude of her. Barely escaping execution.

And later she tracked him down again.

As Morrigan was smarter than the rest of the clowns called the Inner Circle. Had seen that Rhysand was not the same person at all.

So, they had made a deal. Morrigan would pay him his price, and Aryan would give back her High lord.

But the rule was, he was never in one place. And she would have to keep finding him.

With each price Aryan restored a little of the High lord and took away a little of the control of the creature.

What she didn't know was the creature was capable of taking back control, and capable of breaking parts of Rhysand.

It was a lovely cycle. A lovely game.

Aryan laughed once more. Head tipped to the ceiling.

___________________________________________

It had rained heavily the night before. Slickening the stone paveways, his boot splashed against the puddles of pooling rain-water and whatever other liquids flowed through these streets. The rotting smell of vomit, sewage and other substances clung to this part of the city. Drunken males and whores stumbled through the alleyways, hollering out, shouting, cursing. Some of them watched Ayran as he passed, draped in his long black coat, but glittering with jewels none of them could afford.

Some called out to him, some cursed him, the more daring ones trailed their fingers across the expensive fabrics. Those ones did not continue on with their hands fully intact.

Ayran hopped from bar to tavern. Drinking cheap wine and beating everyone in cards. Leaving with his pockets stuffed with gold, and the droplets of blood that splattered across his knuckles from males that were not content to simply take the loss.

By the time dawn was rising on the horizon. He was waltzing through the streets, prepared to enter uninvited to his choosing of housing for the night and crash until the night overtook again.

But a golden orb appeared before him, a mirror of last night. Ayran sighed silently, before lightly tapping the orb.

Immediately the form of Morrigan filled out in front of him. Her face twisted with distaste as she observed his stumbling form.

“Drinking? At this hour?” She sneered.

“You’re one to talk, party bitch.” He remarked.

The orb’s vision of her floated alongside him as he continued the hike in search of a quick resting place. Though he realised he could not settle anywhere until she left.

Perhaps that was her plan to find him, sit by him through the golden’s orbs vision and wait until he grew too tired to continue and finally went to an Inn that she could track down.

“Who would know,” She hummed, taunting, “That behind closed doors, Amarantha’s secret Daemati has reduced himself to the likes of drunks and whores.”

“And I say again once more, you are one to talk.” Ayran pulled his coat tighter around himself.

“Does it not bother you, Ayran, how little you have left. It’s only your magic now. No Court, no family, no friends.” ‘

“I have the sky, the wind, the sea and the earth, that is all a Faery needs.” Ayran told her, “Besides I have my way of getting all of the little luxuries I want.”

“It couldn’t be good living like that. Constantly lurking the lands like a forgotten shadow puppet. Throwing yourself into drinking and gambling to distract yourself from the fact that in the end you were nothing more than her bitch to order about as she saw fit-”

“What do you want out of this, Morrigan?” Ayran whirled on his feet, stopping in his tracks and facing her image entirely.

She crossed her arms and shrugged, “If you give him back his mind, I will allow you to return from exile.”

I will allow you to return from exile.

“You’d…”

He recited the words in his mind once more.

“You would allow me-”

She smiled like she’d won something.

Then her smile dropped. And a face of utter disgust and hatred soured her pretty mouth as Ayran burst out laughing.

He laughed and laughed, until his ribs hurt, his heart beat too fast and he could barely hold himself up.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He said, for once, it was genuine.

Wiping the corners of his eyes, Ayran grinned widely at Morrigan, “Who would want to return to the shithole the Hewn City is? Your Court is run by a group of bastard children with an agenda. Why in the Mother’s Holy Cauldron would I wish to return to it? When I have finally felt the sun on my skin and breathed the outside air?”

“I did not say you would return to the Hewn City,” She said.

Ayran furrowed his brow at that.

“What?”

“You would be welcomed into Velaris, Ayran. You may live how you wish there, with a home and kind people, no one would know who you are or what you have done. You may bask in the sunlight and dance in the stars alongside your own people, within your own Court.”

She stepped closer, “All I ask is that you return my High Lord's mind to himself.”

Ayran shoved his hand into his pockets. The humour, the disbelieving laughter from earlier entirely gone as something far greater slid onto the negotiating table.

“That is all you ask? And for an eternity I may spend in the City of Starlight?”

“With the condition you do not mind-fuck a soul.” She added.

He cocked his head to the side, “I suppose that one’s fair.”

“So?” She asked, voice an octave higher, betraying her excitement. “Do we have a deal?”

She held out her nonphysical hand, he stared at it. Decorated with golden rings and jewels. Not unlike Amarantha’s, simply lacking the gruesome display of Jurian’s eye.

“I return Rhysand’s mind to him, and I will be allowed unrestricted passage to Velaris, with a guarantee I will not be met with hatred, and allowed sanctuary.” He repeated the deal back to her.

“Yes,” Morrigan readily agreed.

He considered it for a moment.

The sun spread its rays over his face as he took her hand, he could barely feel it through the air, but warmth spread through his palm and fingers. Morrigan’s eyes lined with tears of relief, as the bargain washed through them, settling over his skin like a mist.

In an instant, there was a blur of light along both their collarbones, when he looked down he saw one singular eye staring out from the line of the bone, staring like Jurian’s had.

And whenever Morrigan moved, the eye followed.

“It mocks Jurian, such poor taste.” Ayran hummed.

“Do it.” She demanded, “Please, you must.”

Ayran faced her with a blank expression. Before he waved his hand, focusing through the threads of existence and the page of time, feeling for his own creation, the product of his making, shining clear as the northern star, strong as the day he made. It purred at the caress of his magic.

Then it roared, screamed, shaking the grounds as Ayran clenched his fist and broke it.

“His mind shall be returned to him.” Ayran said, as those tears of victory fell from The Morrigan’s eyes. He turned on his heel, stumbling through the streets.

“I’ll see you in Velaris.” He added over his shoulder, but her visage was already gone.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Didn’t even think twice about any possible loopholes.

He laughed as he continued to walk.

#acotar #amarantha's other daemati #morrigan acotar #sjmvillainweek #sjmvillainweek2024 #acotar headcanons #acotar au #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic

20 notes · View notes

lambsouvlaki · 1 year ago

Text

For the Hell of it - Robin

Characters: jason todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.

Word count: 1,626

Summary: A peaceful evening is interrupted by a visitor through time.

Masterlist

------

They were lounging together in Jason’s apartment, Downton Abbey played in the background while they both focused on their own things.

She was sitting up on the couch, half heartedly reading a new fantasy book. Jason was lying with his head on her lap, on leg swinging over the end while he blithely poked through the GCPD’s servers. A half empty board of snacks sat on the coffee table next to two wine glasses.

She carded her fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. He occasionally moved his head against her hand seeking out scratches in different spots like an overly large cat. She wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it but she sure as hell wasn’t going to call it out.

Her eyes were puzzling through a sentence with too many invented fantasy words, when something in the air shifted. She looked up. Jason arched his neck to look around. Her ears popped.

Then Jason was suddenly gone and the head on her lap was significantly smaller.

She blinked down at a kid in a domino mask. He wore a bright red tunic, a yellow cape bunched up on the couch, bare legs and bright green knee pads and little pixie boots.

He looked about as startled as her.

On the TV Maggie Smith gasped in dignified shock.

He pulled away all at once, backflipping off the coffee table. He landed in a cautious stance in the middle of the room. She half stood, holding up wary hands.

“Jay?” she asked, tentative.

“I’m Robin! Who are you?”

“I’m Andy. Where did you come from, Robin?”

He looked around, taking in their surroundings with no overt reaction. She studied him. His face was round with baby fat, but that was about the only fat he had on him. He had familiar curls on his head, sans a white streak at the front.

“I was fighting a magic guy,” he said. He pursed his lips. “He didn’t really know what he was doing. Lots of purple light flying everywhere.”

“Did you get hit? Is that why you swapped places with Jason? Oh.” She dropped her hands. “That wizard’s day just took a very bad turn.”

“Jason?” he asked, carefully casual.

“Black curly hair, blue eyes, about twice your size. Turns twenty four in a week.”

“Huh.”

He looked at her. She looked at him.

“Do you want me to tell you the year?” she offered.

“Na, I got it, thanks.”

“What happens now? Is there… protocol for this?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a snap. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, and then trotted off to an empty corner for the illusion of privacy, yellow cape flapping behind him.

What a polite young man, she thought, failing to mentally connect him to Jason in any way. She paused the episode and sank back onto the couch.

Jason had never actually told her he used to be Robin. She suspected, but not enough to ask. It was one of those things about him that everyone seemingly knew and never talked about. She knew he’d died at some point in his teens, and then stopped being dead, carving his life into a distinct before and after.

Seeing the ‘before’ was surreal and heartbreaking.

He was calling someone, and who that was wasn’t a great mystery. His grin was bright and infectious, and utterly foreign to her. His nose was crooked but it had broken in a different place than adult Jason. Weird.

How did this weedy little sprout turn into her absolute unit of a man? Jason was a verified motherfucker extraordinaire.

She watched while Robin described his situation and location to Batman, then recounted everything she had said, word for word.

Well, damn. Batman was probably going to come here then to collect his wayward Robin.

She had never met Bruce and had really been hoping to keep her winning streak going. He was probably fine as a person, but she didn’t want to turn this sweet little boy over to someone she didn’t know. Going by the earnest smile, he had the utmost faith in him. She couldn’t imagine a Jason who had ever been quick to trust people.

He finished his call and drifted back near her.

“So. You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

“We haven’t met yet.”

“Yeah I figured that.” He looked at her with shrewd eyes. “Are you my– his–” Despite his brashness, his ears turned pink and he looked down at his feet.

“No,” she said gently, ignoring her own cheeks feeling warm. “We’re not… not anything. He and I are just friends.”

He cocked his head. “Riiiight.”

She was suddenly overly aware of the borrowed hoodie she wore, her short shorts and bare feet. This was clearly a man’s apartment, and it was almost eleven at night. It wasn’t the most platonic looking situation.

But she recognised the careful assessment he was giving her, even through the mask. He might be fun sized but he was already sharp as a tack.

“Actually, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you anything,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Something something, preserving the timeline. If you know what’s going to happen it might not happen anymore.”

“Oh yeah.” He puffed out his chest. “No need to worry. Batman and Robin will take care of it.”

“I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” She picked up her book again. She wasn’t really reading, but she made a valiant effort to move her eyes along the lines.

Robin looked around.

“Stop it,” she said.

“Stop what?”

“Hunting for clues.”

He snorted. “I don’t exactly have to go hunting. What’s with the wall of guns and swords?”

Oh yeah. That. She shrugged.

“Ask me again in a decade.”

“So it is my apartment.”

“Don’t touch. He’s very intense about security and I don’t know if your biometrics will line up.”

He looked baffled.

“Why wouldn’t they?”

She stared at the words on the page. She shouldn’t have said that.

“Robin?” a quiet voice called from a dark corner.

She jumped and stood up.

“B!” The kid dashed across the room.

The shadows coalesced into a man, who stepped forwards and wrapped his cape around Robin in an expansive hug. Batman bowed his head.

She looked away. She tried to tune out Robin’s quiet muttering to his dad. She felt like an intruder just being in the same room.

Batman rallied himself, and they turned to the door. Of course, Bats never said goodbye, they just stopped being present.

Batman halted before disappearing though, and looked back at her.

“Andrea.”

“Batman.”

“Good luck on your exam next week.”

She did not roll her eyes. It was a near thing.

“How long do these things usually take to resolve?” she asked.

He looked at Robin with a pain so profound he could not grasp its enormity. Robin looked a little uncomfortable under his stare. Batman didn’t say anything.

The two of them left.

She stood alone in the apartment. She looked around, feeling the size of the place for the first time. She stooped to collect the leftover food and empty plates. Jason would want the food saved, so she wrapped it up and put it in the fridge.

What a precocious little rascal he used to be, she thought, in the silence. No wonder Bruce was so heartbroken.

She stood alone in the empty kitchen.

She wanted her Jason back.

Feeling selfish and ashamed of it, she returned to the couch and sat with her feet pulled up beneath her. She turned the show back on but wasn’t really watching it. Maybe she should turn the heating off. It felt silly to heat the whole place just for her.

Less than a minute later, the door swung open.

Full Size Jason strolled in, with a bent piece of rebar casually resting on one shoulder.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, tossing the rebar onto his weapons table.

“You’re back!”

“Yup, switched back in the elevator.” He was in the same loose t-shirt and sweatpants as before, and they weren’t even blood splattered.

“What happened on the other side?”

“Beat up a wizard.” He collapsed onto the couch next to her and picked up her half-drunk glass of rosé. He took a sip and put his boot up on the edge of the coffee table. “Real amateur production. I shouldn’t know how to use your magical artefact better than you. How was the kid?”

“Very sweet,” she said, relaxing. “Bit of a snitch.”

“Yeah?”

“Immediately called Batman and reported every word I said.”

He scoffed. “Yeah he would.” He looked morosely into the glass. “How did Batman take it?”

“...He was devastated.”

He frowned at the wine. “He didn’t say a word when we swapped back.”

She frowned at the screen.

“I’m glad to have my Jason back,” she said. She wasn’t brave enough to look at him.

He was watching her though.

“Yours, hm?”

“Yeah.”

He hummed. They settled down again, both looking at the screen. Neither was really watching.

“How was young Batman?” she dared to ask.

He sighed quietly. “Younger than I remembered. Worried about his Robin.”

They watched in silence. What could she say to that? Some things couldn’t be fixed, and platitudes were just bandaids on scars.

That little kid smiled so brightly, and it was a fucking tragedy. But it wasn’t hers.

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in against him.

She relaxed into his side, and he stretched out some more. She snuck an arm around his waist, he nuzzled the side of her head, and neither commented on the desperately tight grasp he held her with.

Next>>

#Jason needs more people in his life who are happy he came back to life #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x oc #red hood x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #for the hell of it #my fanfic #dc #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #Robin!Jason

184 notes · View notes