#I keep forgetting how to draw hoods. ;-;)

[screwpinecaprice]

Ew they're flirting again.

[redstarfish-art]

Which Jason is best?

All drawn by me. This is what it looks like when an artist does not have an established art style. XDDD

[shotmrmiller]

pornstar au

f!reader x ghost x price :)

2.7k words

tw: teacher-student scenario again, just for the sake of the porn. also, DP. first time writing it, so be NICE!

big thanks to @waves-against-a-cliff for reading what i won't

You sat on Professor Riley's lap after class, his rigid length smearing precum in between your soft, bare thighs as he fucked them. His large hands curled around your waist, long fingers creating tiny dents where he dug them into the supple flesh.

His breath warmed the delicate skin of your throat, as pants escaped his lips. You deliberately pressed your legs closer together— hoping that it provided enough amount of friction for him to finish.

You need this extra credit, after all.

Ghost inhaled sharply when you did, the grip he had on you almost painful.

"Fuckin' hell." His rich groan resonated in your chest. The gusset of your knickers was damp with arousal, both yours and his. The languid drag of his cock against your clothed pussy was so tantalizing, your core ached to be filled.

You were about to urge him to forget intercrural sex— to undress and fuck you already when a sharp knock on the door cuts through the fog in your head; a sudden rush of clarity pouring over you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Shit.

Your back straightens at the interruption and quickly move to get off of Ghost's lap when he wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place. A strangled noise claws up your throat. He cannot be serious.

"Come in," he calls out.

"No. No no no, you can't— you'll be fired, I'll be expelled, Professor Riley, please—" your voice warbles in your panic. His hold on you is as strong as steel, leaving no room for escape or resistance. You're helpless as the doors creep open and Professor Price steps in.

Of course, it's the most pretentious asshole teacher in existence.

"Hey, Riley, have you gotten the ema—" he trails off. His striking blue eyes flick down to your legs. Or more precisely, to what's still in between them fully erect.

"I was unaware you were busy with a...student." The sound of his footsteps draws closer. "Is this what you call detention?" Price leans on the desk with his hip, eyes never straying from you.

Ghost stifles a laugh. "Ask a better question, Price."

Heat licks up your jaw and cheeks when he resumes his thrusting as if there isn't another whole grown man in the room— one who can potentially ruin both his career and your collegiate one.

"Like what, Riley? Want me to ask if I can get a taste?" You look at Price and notice that his eyes are dark, limpid blue rings around the edges— knuckles stained white with how tightly he's clenching his hands. "You've never been a sharing type."

"Well, this sweet toy of mine loves being shared, doesn't she?" Swiftly, Ghost lifts you, his manhood now nestled against the curve of your back. His clever fingers move to your covered center, and draw featherlight circles on your hood, right above your clit. A whimper falls from your lips at the feeling.

"Answer him, pet. Tell Price ya don't mind gettin' this pretty pussy licked by him." He presses down on your bundle of nerves firmly with the pad of his thumb when you take a second too long to answer.

"I, I don't," you hiss when he rubs, "d-don't mind." Ghost gives your cunt a gentle tap.

"Don't mind what?" You swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

"I don't mind getting my pussy licked by Professor Price." His teeth tenderly graze the shell of your ear, followed by a small nip.

"Good girl," he mutters into your hair. Then directs his attention to Price, who's biting his bottom lip— the look he's giving you making your head swim. "She answered, so get down here or get out," he commands.

Ghost clasps his hands under your thighs and lifts until your feet rest flat above his knees. He hooks a finger into the sodden fabric of your knickers and drags it to the side, baring your glistening slit to the cold air of the room, erupting your heated skin in goosebumps. "On your knees, old man, unless they're too creaky to handle this."

Price's lip curls with unveiled amusement. "I was simply admirin' the view, Riley. Don't get your pants in a twist." He lowers himself to the floor smoothly until he's kneeled within inches of your exposed sex.

His prickly beard tickles the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and his mouth is warm and wet as his tongue slides between your folds.

Another former industry giant devouring your passion with the hunger of a starved man at a lavish feast. Each stroke of his tongue spreads the warmth in your stomach, a pressure slowly rising, building—

"Sit her on you," Price mouths against your cunt.

When you find yourself wedged between two burly men, there's not much you can do except surrender to their wishes. That means being lowered onto Ghost— instinctively closing your eyes as you savor the stretch and biting the inside of your gummy cheek at the mildly uncomfortable burn.

Gravity does most of the work as you sink into him in one gentle stroke.

And without reprieve, Price dives right back in. The dull ache from where Ghost's tip presses into the plug of your womb, to the pleasure coming from the attention given to your swollen bundle of nerves.

An intoxicating mix of bliss with pain furling at the edges.

It's so good, teetering on the edge of too much, but when Price sucks lightly on your clit, your body seizes. You scrabble to grab his dark brown hair, blunt nails biting into his scalp as your shatter around Ghost's cock and Price's mouth.

Ecstasy pulses through you like the steady beat of your heart, white-hot euphoria coursing through your veins. There's a ringing in your ears, shrill and deafening, and your breathing comes in ragged pants as you come down from your high.

Your face glistens with sweat as droplets trickle down your temples, hair plastered to your forehead.

Jesus.

Price lapped at the arousal that dripped down Ghost's length, softly groaning at the taste before giving you a wolfish grin behind his coarse facial hair that was damp with your desire.

"Welcome back, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You relax the tight hold you have on his hair as he tenderly kisses where you and Ghost are joined.

Ghost nudges your ear with his nose, and his deep voice rolls over you like a wave. "Greedy little cunt jus' about cut off my circulation, pet." He shifts under you, sliding even deeper than before, a hiss escaping from behind your teeth.

"I think Price is feelin' a little left out, don't you?" With a shaky nod and a quiet mhm, you feel his lips press against the side of your neck.

"Think you can take us both?" It feels more like a warning of what's to come than a genuine question. The idea of being stuffed by both of them sends a thrill up your back.

Price sits back on his haunches, palming himself from outside his trousers. "Think so, sweetheart?" He rises to his feet and promptly sweeps away everything from the wooden desk, scattering them across the floor. Taking a seat on the desk, he positions himself comfortably, his legs slightly bent and his feet firmly touching the ground. How unfair.

With a hand, Price beckons you to him.

Your legs tremble almost comically after having them in such an unnatural position for so long; tingling when you finally stretch them out in front of you. Ghost's hands at your waist help you stand, wincing when he pulls out of you unceremoniously.

Under his breath, he apologizes and gently nudges you towards Price by pressing his hand on your shoulder blades. "Go on, it's rude to keep him waiting." You're then guided forward as warm hands wrap around your biceps, leading you to stand in front of Price.

You drag your eyes from his down to his groin, where his erection is confined behind the strained zipper. Suddenly, Ghost's toned arms surround you, his hands eagerly reaching for the button on the front. "Lemme help ya out, love."

In seconds, Price's heavy manhood bobs as it springs out, ruddy tip hitting just below his navel. Simon firmly grabs your hand and swiftly turns it, exposing your palm. Without warning, he shamelessly spits on it before wrapping it around Price.

A guttural noise escapes him when you squeeze the thick of it tightly. He bucks his hips in a deliberate rhythm— taking hold of your wrist, ensuring your hand remains in position as he continues to thrust upwards until his cock is slick with his precum.

You can't help but rub your thighs together in hopes of getting some of the friction you're desperate for.

"Not gonna come already, are ya Price? We haven't even gotten started." Ghost ignores his scoff, rapping his knuckles on the desk. "Knickers off and climb up, pet."

You hastily tear off your smallclothes, shucking them to the side with your foot before hopping up on the desk, one leg at a time. Price steadies you with his hands on your waist. As you straddle him, your muscles ignite with a satisfying burn as they adjust the expanse of his thighs.

His voice is soft, gentle even, when he whispers into your ear. "Good?" You gasp sharply when Ghost spanks your arsecheeks before nodding at Price. "Jus' like we practiced, yeah?"

Yeah, just like you practiced. The plug you had to wear throughout the week whenever they both weren't tearing you in half should be more than enough prep. You hope.

Ghost taps the side of your thigh. "Cockwarm him while I get this perfect arse ready."

The stretch is intense as you lower yourself on Price— his cock thicker than Ghost's just not as long— it pushes the air out of your lungs. He bites his lip til it reddens, his eyes fixed onto where he disappears inside of you, fingers digging into the meat of your waist.

Your eyes flutter closed when he finally bottoms out, his girth splitting your swollen walls apart mercilessly.

God, he feels so good.

And then the sting of one thick, lubed finger pressing into your tight ring of muscle smothers some of that pleasure.

"Hey, hey. Look at me." Price tips your chin up with his hand, your eyes meeting his. "Good. Breathe for me, sweetheart." He leans forward to place open-mouthed prickly kisses on your neck. "Breathe, love. You've already taken us before. You did beautifully then, and you'll do beautifully now."

He distracts you from the discomfort by suckling on your skin, leaving red little love bites behind. Then, a second finger, so much bigger than your own. Price hisses sympathetically when you do— a tiny whimper coming from the back of your throat.

This time it's Ghost that breathes into your ear. "Doin' so good f'me."

Then he works a third finger in, and your back arches at the jolt of pain that licks up your spine.

Words of praise fall upon your ears, syrupy and saccharine, dulling the ache. He scissors and stretches gingerly, as he's always done. Ghost takes his time, curling his fingers inside— a slow and steady in and out that eventually has you clamping around Price.

He sucks in a breath through his teeth when you do. "So bloody tight."

"Alrigh' Price." Ghost takes you by the hips and cants them forward slightly, a cry falling from your lips at the change in angle. "Hold her open f'me."

He does just that; rough, worn hands spreading you open almost embarrassingly. There's a hot and heavy weight tapping your arse once, thrice— and then there's a blunt pressure pushing into your other much smaller hole. Your spine bows at the thick invasion, it burns, it throbs, but smart fingers find your neglected pearl and start to circle it.

The pain is merely physical, it can be overcome. Focus on the touch on your clit, focus on the hands that hold you, the heat that radiates from both of them. The harsh breathing of the man behind you as he fights to keep himself from fucking himself into you unfettered. Strained noises spilled from Price's parted lips as he felt your channel constrict, your sex beginning to get slick with your desire.

Ghost hilts, leaning forward until his barrel chest hits your back, a strangled groan coming from him. You felt unbearably full, about to tear at the bloody seams. Every single nerve from your navel down to the tips of your toes was on fire. You felt a throbbing sensation radiating from the back of your skull.

It was scalding hot, searing. The thin membrane that separated them felt stretched beyond its limit.

"Y'okay?" You can't even tell who asked you that past the rushing of blood that's in your ears. Your head feels too heavy on your shoulders, letting it lull forward until your forehead rests on Price's collarbone.

Ghost's chest vibrates as he speaks, the low rumble sinking into your skin, warming you from the inside. "Breathe for us, love. Deep in, slow out."

Right.

You remember what Price had said the very first time they fucked you. 'Breathing helps to process any pain and supports the nervous system.'

As you inhale deeply, your lungs expand to the point where you can feel a twinge of discomfort. But as you exhale, the tension in your body melts, your muscles gradually slackening.

Ghost undulates his hips once languidly, and while the ache flared back to life, below that was the pleasure you've become well acquainted with, desperately clawing its way to the surface.

A moan slips out of you unbidden.

"Perfect. So fuckin' perfect." Price's praise makes you dig your fingers into his broad shoulders, nails biting into his skin.

Then you're lifted by two sets of hands— one on your hips, the other on the underside of your thighs and brought back down. Fuck.

"Tha's it, love. Takin' us both so well," Ghost murmurs. When you begin to mewl, a clear sign of pleasure, Price plants his feet on the floor, and snaps his hips up. Black spots dot your vision, a euphoria shooting through your veins.

God, you hope your hips hold out.

They begin to move in tandem, one pushing in completely, while the other pulls out until just an inch stays inside.

It's sublime, obscene squelching coming from both your front and back. Once your body gives in to their assault, everything starts to blur at the edges, from your sight to your thoughts. You melt in their hands, softening under their touch as they take their pleasure from you.

They begin to fuck you in earnest, breath punched out of you with every thrust, and when Ghost takes control by grabbing a fistful of your hair, it sends waves of something through your stomach. The loud whine that comes from you is filthy.

"Always meltin' into a puddle over a firm hand, pet. Isn't tha' right?" He asks you as if you could even dream of answering. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth, and throat like sandpaper.

"Ready to make Price come? Choke his cock with tha' vice-like cunt, love. Wrench it outta him, take every drop of his cum, and then take mine."

Who are you to disobey such an edict?

The snarl Price lets out is animalistic when you squeeze him snugly, his thrusts turn jarring as he swells and stills— twitching inside of you, warmth pooling in your belly.

Only to realize that Ghost finished simultaneously.

There's a joke in there somewhere, about a couple finishing together, but you've been thoroughly fucked stupid.

Cut.

Simon takes you home— his home, and soaks you in a warm, bubble bath that smells like something he shouldn't have.

"I bough' it for you," he hums.

His callused palms knead into your sore calf muscles, hand making its way down to press into the arch of your foot.

"Don't go makin' those noises, love."

Eventually, you address the elephant in the room, and his answer makes your pulse race. "Gotta create a soft safe place f'you to land after somethin' tha' intense. Ya need to wind down, catch your breath."

He says it so casually as if it was common sense.

"Here. Drink your water." The bottle in your hands is room temperature, just how you like it.

[starwovenkiss]

part two here

Because how funny would it be if Jason Todd had a nemesis who had a crush on him?

Jason, who is just trying to do his job and keep Gotham from burning for one night so he doesn’t have to hear his umpteenth lecture from Bruce about the responsibilities he holds from carrying the bat symbol, pulls up to you.

You had become a thorn in his side as of late, and he tries not to let his amusement show when he sees you waiting on a rooftop.

“What are you doing here, _____?” He knows what you’re doing. It’s the same game you’ve played for the past three nights, and when you turn and smile, glossy lips turned upwards, he can’t help it when his own lips mirror the reaction. It’s involuntary, and he knows B is getting on his case about how much time he’s wasting while not bringing you in—but how can he, when he has so much fun chasing you like this?

“You know why I’m here.” He does. According to Babs, you’ve robbed two banks along 81st Street, and although the amount is significantly less than what you were pulling before, it’s enough to warrant concern. To get his attention, like you wanted.

“You’ve got to stop doing this.” His voice sounds lilted even through his voice filter, and he watches your brow raise, pausing for a moment before stepping closer to him.

“Stop doing what?” you purr, moving in closer, looking like a feline ready to strike. It’s easy to forget about your mentor, how you two were raised on opposite sides of the coin—one trained in stealth and justice, the other in seduction and vice. And while Selina’s influence still moves through your every movement, he’s watched you grow from that first night you appeared on the rooftop of Gotham’s Metropolitan Art Museum. How you developed your own style of fighting, your own form of distraction that differs from your mentor in every way.

“Where’s the money, cat?” he sighs, looking down at you. Despite facing a former crime lord and one of the most terrifying vigilantes in Gotham, your body language is relaxed, as if this is another casual conversation to you. In fact, you merely sigh, as if he’s the one being ridiculous for asking such a question.

“What money?” you smile softly before running to jump off the side of the roof. Jason readies himself, loving nothing more than to chase you into the night before he registers his comm system crackling to life.

“Babs,” he asks, still keeping an eye on your shrinking figure as you jump from rooftop to rooftop deeper into Gotham.

“I don’t get it.” She laughs. Jason tenses, knowing that whatever is going to come next can’t be good.

“She steals almost $75K from the vault, triggers every alarm known to man, just to leave it hidden two blocks away.” Jason knows why you did it—he’s not oblivious to the way you act around him. However, admitting that means he’s signing up for no certain amount of teasing from Babs and a potentially very long talk from Bruce (as if the hypocrite should have anything to say to him).

“Maybe she’s bored.” He shrugs, keeping his tone as even as he can.

“A protégée of Selina? Doubt it.” Babs snorts. “I could think of another reason why she keeps drawing you out there.”

Jason pauses before responding. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Babs does a terrible job of hiding her laughter. “Sure you don’t, Hood. Looks like there’s another robbery downtown, and it seems legit this time. I’d head over there if I were you.”

a/n: i have written 10k words of a gaz fic that has no end in sight, and needed something to get me out of my head. so here’s a little drabble for my other favorite boy <3

[yandere-wishes]

༻⋆Little Red Riding Hood You Know More Than You Should⋆༺

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Capitano recognizes your ancient name before he recognizes you. Ororon thinks it's about time to confess his feelings to his childhood friend. You just wanted to protect your homeland.

⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere Behavior, Stalking, Possessiveness, Reader has a pyro vision.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Tejano Blue By CAS

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Bless your heart, make you part of my life forever ~ CAS

.✦── °❀⋆ .🔥.⋆❀°── .✦

It had started with Ororon.

With the Chrysanthemum he delicately weaved into your hair.

Red red red like the vision that burns at your hip.

Red like the boy-heart you wished to carve out.

It had ended with the Capitano.

With verglas weaving across your arms from his most intimate touch.

Blue, blue, blue like the creature that claimed to know you.

Blue like the veins that harbor such a melancholy legacy.

The chipped wood of the basket pierces your palm, tiny splinters pricking at soft flesh. You don't fully register the twinge; the pain is too silken, too delicate. Instead, you tighten your fist around the wooden handle daring the splinters to puncture, to draw blood. At least then you'd have a reason to visit Ororon, a reason to pry open his door and interrupt his precious isolation.

You'd like to forget about him.

The ignorant boy with the mismatched eyes.

Leave him to rot in his secluded cabin.  

But it's all so hard to shake the saccharine memories of the all too lanky boy who used to hold your hand as you played hide and seek with Iktomisaurs in the forest.

Granny Itztli had requested ingredients for a ritual sermon taking place two moons from now. Nightshades and Quenepa Berrys and sand from the cost. "Have you talked to Ororon recently?" Granny asks, her brows furrowed in annoyance or worry or some other emotion too masked to fully read.  You shake your head, gingerly plucking the ingredients from your basket and sprawling them across the table. "He hasn't been returning any of my letters, or even answering the tribesman's requests for his vegetables. I swear if that boy-"

You can feel her anger slipping out, the tendrils of her powers lashing at the air, slithering across the walls. You gulp, grasp tightening once more against your basket's handle. The wood scraps at your skin grounding you as you let out a shaky breath. "I'll check on him for you granny," you blurt out trying to plaster a desperate smile across your face. Citlali's eyes soften as she looks at you taking in your taut stance. "I'd always wished for him to pick you as his bride." She mused hand waving the air as if to dispel her anger like smoke. "you'd have been the perfect wife for my foolish grandson, someone to keep an eye on him and his whimsy wills of inanity." She sighs ushering you to the door. "Still I suppose it's not too late."

You turn on your heels defiance ripe on your tongue. Ororon had once been a dear friend, a brother. And while the memories are wrapped in golden velvet and honey. You'd much rather pluck the nails from your fingers than marry that weirdo. But before the protest could be launched the door is solemnly slammed in your face.

You fasten the cloak along your neck, pull the hood over your head

before making your way to the lone cabin in the woods. Skipping along the broken road swinging your empty basket.

The cabin itself is petit and serene, a pretty little heap of wood and spray paint with its renowned vegetable garden stretching the whole diameter. "Ororon," you call out, surprised at how bitter his name tastes. Rotton, almost forgotten. "Ororon," you knock at the door.

Four knocks.

Four pounds.

All accompanied by the bitter name spilling from behind your teeth.

But there is no answer, nothing outside the peaceful lull of the breeze and the distant shrikes of Yumkasaurs.

Nothing.

Well, maybe it's for the best.

You'd have shown him your blistered palm should he have answered. Shown him the blood and silently prayed he'd hold your hand and bandage your wound with all the tenderness of an eight-year-old boy bandaging his best friend's bleeding knee.

It's only when you've started back on the road, heading towards the grand stadium, that you hear something—an icy omen whispering along the horizon. You look around, greeted by nothing but Natlan's nature. Slowly, you start to leave the path, trudging through grass and marching up the little hills, following the distant chill in the air.

What was it Granny always said about straying off the path?

Something about tragedy and trouble waiting beyond the trees.

Only this time, trouble -or rather tragedy- lays behind a set of rocks, half a mile from the cabin. That's when you finally see them. The chill in the air has grown harsher here, biting at your bare arms. You pull your hood further over your head, wrapping the rest of the cape around yourself in a bid for warmth. From the rock you've concealed yourself behind, you can hear two men speak.

Ororon stands before a man, no not a man. Such a human word could not describe the terrifying thing that loomed outside the sun's reach.

Your ears perk at the low timbre of his growl. The monster spews blasphemy, sacrilege, against your dear archon. Calling her a coward for not using the gnosis, calling her inept.

You feel his words cutting through you, lacrations running deep. Your body is on fire your vision boling by your side. What's worst is that Ororon listens, humming along in acknowledgment. You can taste the molten anger stinging the roof of your mouth, feel the embers burning your tongue. Your hand covers your mouth, nails sinking into your cheek to avoid permitting the frustration to break free and blowing your cover.

You turn swiftly, using the cover of rocks and trees to shadow your escape.

Desperately dashing for the path that'll lead you back to your village. Granny Itztli and the tribe leader must hear of this. They must know that Ororon has joined the Fatui and is planning to steal the Archon's gnosis.

The problem, however, may have been the red cape you'd draped yourself in, its bright color catching the wrong sun rays at the wrong time. Luminous enough to catch the captain's attention.

You feel the world slipping, sunlight giving way to a ghoulish purple glow. Your feet hit the battered pavement of the path, right before the world turns to black.

You scream just as something pulls you away...

You've been here before, several times in fact. This is the night kingdom or at least an astral realm within the night kingdom. Your body -your real body- is probably laying limp in the grass being licked by some saurian.

"(y/n), what are you doing here?" Ororon's voice is muffled, distant. A cloud scraping across the rougher edges of the sky. His ghastly apprehension hovers behind you, you can feel his chilled breath on your neck.

You try to speak, to answer. But the words never leave your mouth. You must remember that the shadow world has rules. That you can not move with your legs or speak with your tongue. You form the words like bubbles floating in the air. Waiting for them to pop, to unleash your voice amongst the gloom.

"I was looking for you, granny's worried. Apparently, you've disappeared."

His nails scrape at your neck. Fitting the delicate bones between the cusp of his palm. "But I'm right here" he whispers in your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Sorry, I wasn't there to greet you. I've been...busy".

"Ororon" The voice echoes across the cavern, loud and disturbing. You feel frost leak from every syllable. Your eyes widen as the black-clad monster marches forward body rigid embodying authority and discipline in every move.

Is this how everyone from Snezhnaya looks?

Taut and stiff and malicious?

Draped in furs and armor.

Ominous and cruel.

"This is my friend (y/n) we grew up together. Isn't she cute Capitano?" Ororon ends the statement with a mock peck to your neck. Despite its fleeting nature you still wince at the invasion.

You don't recall Ororon being so bold, so satirizing. Has the folly of the fatui bled into him? Rotted his essence and painted it anew?

"Get rid of her, we haven't the time to waste on such..." The man, no the nightmare. Stops in front of you. His bulky clothes remind you of the Tatankasaurs that roam the sandy southwest.

The captain's mask is sheer black. Murkey candance that hides his mysterious visage. But you notice the jerky way his head tilts down the way you can't escape the strange pierce of his unseable eyes.

"Do I know you" it's phrased as an order, a demnad.

Tell me what you are, what you're supposed to mean to me.

But there is no answer to greet it. Nothing apart from an unsteady silence. You can not know this ice-cold man. From behind you Ororon stiffens, "Do you know the captain." he asks, a silver of betrayal lacing his words. You only shake your head, narrowing your eyes to try and pry beyond the abyss of his mask.

Capitano's hand grips at your fingers pulling them up to his mask. Your heart stops as you see him bow his head, the cold of his helmet biting into your flesh. You hear the kiss like an arrow piercing the ever-looming eeriness of the night kingdom.

Capitano utters your name.

Rolls it around his mouth trying to savor the nostalgia.

Trying to crack open every syllabus and taste its familiarity.

"(y/n)..."

Your body lays limb amongst the grass, from atop the green hill Capitano observes your sleeping form. His eyes trace every curve and crevasse of your body jotting each detail to memory.

You look like so ethereal like this. Blood red amid the green and gold of the prairie. The humor of it all isn't lost on him after all he's partaken in more than his fair share of carnage. And that's exactly what you look like, a beautiful corpse laying in her puddle of blood. A macabre laceration layed upon Natlan's corse.

The sun beats down. Its rays too warm and treasonous.

It's only then that Capitano realizes where he's seen you before.

This exact scene, the blood pooling from beneath, the body lying amidst the grass, the sun blessing the slayed warrior in its light.

He knows you...

You don't remember waking up. Don't recall commanding your stiff muscles to move. Nor do you recall the first sight your wry eyes landed upon.

All you remember is running.

Blurred greens and reds of the scenery rushing by.

Granny must know of this.

The tribe must know of this.

Ororon is a traitor. A conspirator in a plot against Mavurika.

You're not quite sure why your heart stings when you think of this.

Your mouth is dry, ash coating your lips as Citlali glares down at you. Ororon's face flashes behind your eyes. You see him everywhere. Hear his gentle voice shushing you. Your ears are ringing, his voice whispering how much he's missed you, how much he wants you by his side once more.

Citlali says something, you think she's scolding you for traversing the pathway. She's gone in the next blink, essence lingering in a spinning room. Ororon kneels in front of you. No, not Ororon just some spectre wearing his face.

Or maybe it's his astral projection. Maybe he can't let you utter a word of what you saw.

"Just keep quiet darling. I promise this will all make sense soon." His fingers spark when they grace your cheek. Solid and spirit all at once. You try to touch his hand, to sink the sparks inside you, to feel Ororon once more. Instead, your finger collides with your own soft flesh.

The colors are chipping away.

Someone is calling your name.

Ororon or Citlali?

Maybe they've always been the same.

Why is the room spinning?

Why is it so dark...

You shouldn't be out. The sun is too harsh, merciless. You ring your palm across your basket's handle letting the friction rub the flesh raw.

Granny had warned you to stay inside. To avoid Ororon and whatever else you'd seen. But you can't let this go, the words may die upon your tongue but there must be evidence hidden somewhere. Evidence that you can present to the pyro archon, evidence that could save everything.

"Did you really miss me that much?" His voice is sharper than any arrow from his bow. Ororon stands blocking your path the captain hovering beside him.

Weren't you always told the path would be safe?

Capitano reaches out, metal fingers wrapping around your fragile wrist he pulls you to him, dark mask peering beyond you. Trying to piece you together. From behind you feel Ororon's lips sneaking up your neck. You scream, a shriveled sound. "Didn't you come all this way just to see us?" Ororon asks between open-mouthed kisses, you writher between their bodies desperate to escape. Tears flowed from your shiny eyes.

You're so pretty when you cry Ororon feels bad for admitting that. But he can't help but admire how innocent and helpless you look, trapped between two monsters.

It's only now that he notices your red hood is adorned with embroidered Chrysanthemum, for a moment Ororon thinks it has something to do with flowers he used to braid into your hair. Back when he'd been too young to fully understand destiny and you'd been too young to understand legacy.

"I came to find evidence of your betrayal." You spit, free hand reaching into your basket to try to find your ancient name. Tears trickle from your eyes as the captain leans closer. Your fingers finally graze the forged feather and you pry it out, holding it to your chest, feeling its power coursing through you.

Your elbow collides harshly with Ororon's rib, as he tumbles backward you gain enough space to sidekick the captain. Only for it to be blocked by his iron-clad hand. The metal makes your bones ring a sharp pain that leaves your leg numb.

"You bear an ancient name?" Capitano asks, skeptical. You roll your eyes despite your better judgment. Capitano releases your wrist, instead reaching out to try and grab your ancient name. In the millisecond of freedom, you stalk backward before sprinting back to the tribe. Your basket forgotten at the captain's feet.

"she bears the ancient name Ayizu," Ororon says, still clutching his side.

Capitano swallows the information. Letting the sharp edges nick at his throat. He'd had been uncertain before despite all the parallels.

But now the shock was rolling through him like lightning bolts. That's why you looked so familiar. Not only did you bare Ayizu's name but there was no doubt in Capitano's mind that you were one of his descendants.

The captain chuckles a mirthless noise. The irony feels like a blistering burn blooming upon his rotting flesh. "She's quite loyal." he begins, blacked gaze traveling to Ororon. "She'd make a valuable asset in our quest to save Natlan. Fetch her for me will you Ororon?" It's nothing less than an order one that Ororon may be a bit too keen on fulfilling.

"Oh and Ororon, we need to start you on a training agenda. I fear you are the most pathetic warrior Natlan has ever seen."

Ororon's eyes sunken before traversing up the captain's imposing form.

"Yes sir" he mumbles, biting his lips to avoid moaning at the deliciously sharp pain you've gifted him.

It's dark again,

You let the sharp wood of your basket cut into your palm. Relishing in the familiar feeling as blood mars the wooden handle. When did your basket return? You could have sworn you'd abandoned it with your attackers,

The path beneath your feet is cracked and broken. Smeared in ice and ectoplasm. Still, you walk forward into the abyss. There's nowhere else to go.

You expected them to be there. To see their towering forms amidst the darkness. Instead, you see them lounging between the blacked boulders.

Soldiers fresh from the fight. You don't enquire about their endeavors about the horrors you're sure they've inflected upon your land. But before you can fully walk past Capitano grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap. "Stop" You struggle to break free, only for him to grab your chin and force your eyes onto his faceless visage. "So you're the descendent of my old friend? The inheritor of his noble name." You feel bile creeping up your throat. "Don't insult my ancestor, he'd never associate with the likes of you." you spite.

Capitano chuckles and signs, pulling his mask up a smidge to reveal decayed flesh. You gasp, an opportunity he ceases to pull you into a deep kiss, teeth biting and tearing at your soft lips, his holed tongue running over your teeth. You try to scream to cry, suffocating from the floral-scented rot. When the captain finally pulls back you run your fingers over pained lips smearing the blood across your cheek and chin.

"You should smile more" Ororon teases nipping at your ear until you wince, his hands move up and down your hips squeezing every so often. He's never been this bold before. You blame the Fatuis staring down at you. Blame the Outlander and his weird ways, somehow the irony is utterly lost on you.

"Please just let me go" you beg, your body is on fire your vision pulsing once more. "You're a captain surely you must understand why I'm so eager to protect my people from you?" Ororon laughs, littering your cheek with tiny kisses. "I understand," Capitano responds, his fingers dabbing your blood-covered lips. "I'm desperate to save Natlan too." He brings the red-coated digit to his mouth, sucking softly.

"We all want to protect Natlan" Ororon chips in. "That's why you should join us, honor your ancient name." You shake your head, almost as if you're shaking the nightmare away. "There is no honor in what you're doing."

You feel something around your neck. Metalic fingers wrapping tightly around your throat. Clutching tighter and tighter. With his other hand, the Captain removes his mask.

You scream...

The room is cold, freezing.

Your calloused palm squeezes trying to feel the handle of your wooden basket. When your nails only dig into your own skin, you awaken, head darting trying to find your precious basket.

It's on the table...

You don't have a table by your bed.

Beside you, someone tightens their hold on your waist pulling you into an icy stiff chest. Captiano's breath is cold, his voice gruff with sleep as he whispers little adorations into your ear. You're only now realizing Ororon lying in front of you, his lithe fingers playing with your neck.

No not your neck. There's something wrapped around your throat, no one the cold was unbearable, this "necklace" must be made of pure cyro. "You look so pretty like this." Ororon mumbles, daring to connect his lips to yours in a sheepish, sloppy attempt at a kiss. You wrangle your head to the side breaking the pathetic kiss. Behind you, you feel Capitano's chest rumble in laughter.

"Really Ororon must I teach you everything?" Capitano pushes Ororon's head roughly until his lips are on yours, "Open your mouth" he commands. To which both of you obey not knowing who he's referring to. Slowly Ororon permits his tongue to wander past your lips and into your mouth. Satisfied Capitano begins to suckle and kiss your neck, his sharp teeth effortlessly breaching skin.

"I know you don't believe me when I say, I'm here to save Natlan." Capitano whispers. "But I helped your Ancestor defend this land once, and I shall do it again." Capitano sits up stiffly, his hand on your shoulder using ice to keep you in place. "The war with the Abyss is starting soon. You'll be safe here while Ororon and I make the final preparations." He sighs fully turning to you.

For the first time, you see the rot and decay that has marred his once gorgeous face. You gulp, swallowing your screams, letting his words sink in like the ice chaining you. Capitano pulls himself from the bed, making his way to the door. Ororon gives you a final kiss before also retreating from the bed and going to stand by the captain.

"If we survive this, I don't intend to take you to Snezhnaya. Frankly, I don't think either of you could survive the cold." He jokes, and you notice it's the first time his serious icy facade has cracked. "You will be safe here with Ororon and I'll visit you as much as my duties permit." strange how his words almost, almost sounded like 'I love you' muttered in a foreign tongue enclosed in ice. Something impossible to thaw out.

"I'm sorry about this darling," Ororon mutters as he follows the captain out. "But we'll be back soon." He offers you a soft smile before closing the door. One that makes your heart melt. Instead of a kidnapper, you see the little boy who used to own your heart.

The door closes leaving you to bask in all the glory of your doom.

.✦── °❀⋆ .🔥.⋆❀°── .✦

Apologies this is definitely not my best work but I just wanted to get something out for these two. May end up writing something better later on.

💜Tags: @definitely-asexual-volcano @fujisworld @kudoaii @savsxz @fantasyhopperhea @misscoolisback123 @army-of-inspirited-onces @lorkai @lavandulawrites @kazudare @s1mppp @onceapirateprincess @lovelive-animequeen1029 @trashpandaperson @rhain-things @milktea-coffeelady

[lizmidfordsblog]

Some personal headcanons (Part 1?):

Whenever Cale gets a cold, he immediately starts bleeding like a faucet since the Vitality of the Heart is working to get rid of disease. Meanwhile, everyone thinks that this dude is so weak he sneezes and starts bleeding.

Lord Sherrit is literally a mythical/fairytale bedtime story for dragons in their world. A cool af dragon lord the likes of which has never been seen for 10,000 years? Baby Eruhaben definitely went around pretending to be the next Dragon Lord/daydreaming of meeting Lord Sherrit.

Choi Jung Soo is 100% the reason why Kim Rok Soo began working out and knows how to use different weapons. The two rookies would be seen in early mornings with Choi Jung Soo snapping at Kim Rok Soo like a drill sergeant.

On and Hong remain in their cat forms the majority of the time because they're light enough to be carried by their family members especially Cale. They like being close to their adults, after being rejected and neglected for so long.

Choi Jung Gun helped write some of the storybooks Lord Sherrit put in the Castle of Light for her children. Some of them were stories from the fantasy world, but majority of them were fairytales like Little Red Riding Hood and The Tale of Shim Chŏng.

After the Alberu PJs fiasco, his family keeps giving him fancy pajamas with increasingly absurd enchantments on them in case he has to head to battle again. Think baby pink pajamas with little cats on them charmed to protect against a literal Dragon's Rage.

After his mother's passing, Beacrox learns how to cook as a healthy coping mechanism for his anger and resentment. He is hesitant to tell Ron when he develops a genuine love for cooking, but Ron is supportive because he wants his son to not be tied down by revenge like he is.

As thanks for Choi Han's sacrifice during the Sealed God Test ("I can't even feed you properly here."), Cale quietly makes green onion pancakes for Choi Han. The swordsman tears up on his first bite because of the familiar taste but refuses to cry.

The first time Raon sleeps in Cale's bed is after a nightmare. It's before he gets his name and he is still guarded around humans. Cale notices him whimper, carries him in his arms and soothes the baby dragon each time. They never address it in the morning. After one point, Raon never leaves.

Choi Han has a diary he writes in so that he can never forget his beloved family members again, no matter how much time passes. He puts in every doodle or drawing the children make for him.

After meeting Raon, Eruhaben secretly begins preparing his lair for the baby dragon after his death as a gift. However, all his preparations get destroyed by the White Star.

The first thing Raon learned how to write was Cale's name, back when he was learning from Rosalyn.

The reason Cale's hair is so long is because he is too lazy (read: busy) to cut it. He has so many split ends that it gives Eruhaben a heart attack. Cale has a bigger heart attack when he finds out Ron is going to be the one give him a hair cut.

Alberu always, always carries a white handkerchief with cookies wrapped inside with him wherever he goes. His study and his bedroom are always stocked too: both for the children and for his dongsaeng who never eats enough.

Hong has a habit of rolling around in bed seeking warmth. At one point, he rolls on top of Cale's face, choking the man awake with a mouthful of fur.

Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo would talk about farming so often that at one point, Kim Rok Soo secretly went out and gathered a lot of farming/gardening books. He would record them all secretly.

Cale takes special care of recording each and every moment with his family. Raon's giggling when he wipes off the steak sauce on his face, On's quiet purring cuddled in his arms, the sunlight on Eruhaben's hair as he sits and reads etc.

The God of Death definitely giggled at being the first person to read Choi Jung Gun pen name Nelan Barrow's debut novel, The Birth of A Hero. He rated it five stars ofc, Choi Jung Gun held a broom to his head.

[myfanfic-urfantrash]

They catch their partner dancing while wearing an animal onesie

A/N: I wanted the silly so here we are.

Neuvillette is a little confused when he sees what looks like a giant otter dancing around their home and his love is no where in sight. It's only when he sees their face from underneath the hood of the onesie does he realize it's just his partner. Asks them where they got such a thing and why admiring the craftsmanship.

When he's given his own matching onesie he's a little surprised. Will only wear it at home and in the presence of the melusines who also got onesies when they have little hang outs at their home.

Wriothesley starts questioning if there's an event he knows nothing about when he sees them dancing around in a dog onesie. But when he's told there's nothing and they got it for fun he teases them a little for their purchase as they do remember they're a grown up right? But hey their mora is their mora they can do as they please.

Is honestly stunned they managed to get a onesie made in his size. He'll wear it once and only in the safety of their home cause it's a little embarrassing as he is a grown ass man. But he understands where they're coming from if they say it's a way to heal his inner child though he'd rather try other things.

Albedo is unphased when he comes home to see his partner and Klee dancing around in Dodoco inspired onesies. Even less phased when they pass him his own matching onesie to join them. He doesn't know where they got the outfits from but he doesn't really mind watching his favorite people enjoy life is nice and it tempts him to draw the scene but he'll draw later once Klee is all tuckered out from playing.

When she settles in for a nap too tired to keep dancing he sits beside his also sleeping partner and sketches the scenes he saw. Later when they've woken up and Klee wants to play some more he gets up to answer the door forgetting he's wearing a onesie until the last second. Kaeya tries to tease him at the door before Klee begs him to join them and unfortunately for him Albedo makes quick work of creating a onesie for him so he can't escape.

Wanderer questions how they're so childish when he sees them dancing around in their cat onesie after he comes home from a quick grocery trip. They are a whole adult so whatever they spend their mora on is none of his business but seriously? A onesie of all things? He stands there watching them dance around enjoying themselves before passing them to go get started on dinner. He'll let them wear whatever they want but no onesies at the table he doesn't think he can handle how ridiculous(cute) they look.

If they show him a custom onesie made for himself he's throwing the nearest pillow at their head. He's not wearing it no matter how much they beg.

[higharollakockamamie]

I was lucky enough to get to see the Takarazuka Castlevania show and it rules!

I’m remembering some stuff out of order, and this is my first Takarazuka, so I may state the obvious if you’re more familiar with it. Details for anybody who might be interested in what if Symphony of the Night was a musical acted entirely by women, colored with my vague recollections of playing a couple of the games like 20 years ago:

It does indeed start with the famous “Die, monster! You don’t belong in this world!” intro, except with no wine glass toss, and Maria is there.

For the fight scenes, screens come down and play CGI magic effects.

Maria generally gets a lot more to do than appear for 14 seconds like she does in the game.

When somebody dies, they sink down through a trapdoor. The stage in general is super cool, with a ton of different backdrops, a huge revolving table, and nice use of the whole thing from front to back.

There are backup dancers all in black with capes they swoosh around so they look like bats and I love them so much.

French Revolution time! We’ve got dancing revolutionaries and Robespierre, who I was absolutely not expecting in this play about Dracula. Shaft the wizard is there.

We get a flashback of Dracula going on his business trip. While he’s gone, Lisa tells Alucard that in her research she’s found a cure for vampirism that she’ll give Vlad as soon as he comes back. But then, she gets burnt as she calls out to Alucard that her last wish is for him not to hate humans and for him to keep Dracula from taking revenge. We see little!Alucard here, and he uses chichiue and hahaue to his parents.

Robespierre gets betrayed by Shaft and the revolutionaries turn on him, killing him, which Shaft uses to revive Dracula. If anybody ever asks you about Robespierre’s downfall, tell them it was for wizard reasons.

Annette gets kidnapped as bait to bring Richter to the castle. Richter gets a song to the tune of Bloody Tears, which rules. Then he gets brainwashed by Shaft.

Present Alucard travels through a village where they’re having a festival and singing a catchy song about how this once a year, on the night of the full moon, lost loved ones come back to visit. Alucard meets Maria here, who remembers that he saved her from vampires years ago when she was little. She remembers she asked him his name and he said, “One such as me has no name,” which she thought was badass. They go their separate ways.

I forget if it’s around here, but at some point they learn about Dracula being back, and Maria says that if Alucard won’t come with her, she’ll go to the castle alone.

Alucard finds a little girl in the woods, who says her papa was taken by the Revolution. He takes her to some nuns and an abbot, where he runs into Maria again. Some monsters, who are dancers in cool layered flowing red, attack. Maria and Alucard fight them off, but the abbot is freaked out, declares anybody who can fight those monsters must not be human, and throws them out.

Alucard and Maria get attacked by a lackey vampire, who they defeat, but not before he bites Maria and vampirizes her.

Alucard takes her back to his sweet bachelor pad, which has a drawing of Lisa on the wall. When Maria wakes up they talk about Lisa, and Alucard remembers the vampirism cure that must be somewhere in her laboratory.

They fly there, as shown on the screens. Maria falls once and Alucard catches her romantically.

The laboratory music is Dance of Gold, which is cool. They find Lisa’s journal, but not the cure. They conclude Dracula must keep it close.

Maria’s vampirism takes over and she does a kickass evil laugh before attacking Alucard with her four beasts, which are represented through the screens at first, then by dancers in white. Alucard fights them off and she returns to normal. She gives him the holy glasses, which are opera glasses he gazes at the audience through until she tells him that just having them works.

Alucard runs into a robed and hooded figure who shows him the world of the dead, which has angelic dancing figures with candles. Robespierre is there and gets a speech about how he was trying to save France. Hi Robespierre.

Then we see Lisa at the stake, but she urges Alucard to kill all the humans. Yep, the figure was the succubus. He sees through it and fights her.

There’s a fight with Richter, where the mind control is represented as a green orb floating on the screens. Richter gets Alucard on his knees and wraps his whip around his neck, which, hot. Alucard breaks free and destroys the mind control orb, bringing Richter to his senses.

Alucard confronts Dracula and they fight, Alucard insisting that Lisa wouldn’t want him to wreak revenge on humanity. Alucard wins, but can’t bring himself to kill his father, and throws his sword away. Shaft takes the opportunity to attack Alucard, and Dracula defends his son and kills the wizard. Dracula gives Alucard the vampirism cure.

Then Dracula asks Alucard to finish him off and send him to be with Lisa, which he does, in a scene that was sad but also charming because of Dracula dying very carefully so that he’d land on the trapdoor.

Maria gets unvampired.

There’s the scene from the end of Symphony of the Night where all the good guys part, except with the addition of Alucard telling Richter to go to Paris to rescue that little girl’s father, so I guess Richter gets a stint as the Scarlet Pimpernel. Alucard goes off and Maria runs after him.

But then we get one more scene! Maria finds Alucard at a grave he’s made for Dracula, where she prays. We see Dracula and Lisa looking on. Then there’s a romantic bit where Alucard wraps his cape around Maria, which is sweet, and they go off together.

All in all it was great, the music was great, the costumes were great, I loved it. I wish I could see it again immediately. I’m definitely gonna see more Takarazuka if I get the chance.

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached - Part 14

Let's just ignore I've updated this story three days in a row, @ailithnight asked me to make them cry, so we're giving the challenge a shot. This was written today and may very well have typos. Also it literally can't go on like this, I have work tomorrow.

First | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Fandom: DP x DC Summary:

Danny is just trying to build a portal home, becoming a thief was just an unfortunate side effect of that goal. Now if only this vigilante family would just leave him alone. Especially Red Hood - the semi retired crime lord whose ghost-like presence keeps drawing Danny to him.

Jason had called ahead to let them know he was coming to the cave and then promptly turned off his comms again. He didn’t need to hear their questions. Not on comms. It was bad enough he had to face them. 

He drove into the cave, his resolve the only thing keeping him from turning right around. Everyone but Bruce were in their civvies at this point. Jason shouldn’t be so surprised Bruce had called it a night. Not after ghost jumping off a roof in front of them. 

Bruce did care, and Jason could tell himself that now without poison dripping into his ear about how it was only to keep his little soldiers at the top of their game. He was too exhausted to appreciate the missing put at the moment, he just wanted to go home and try to forget for a moment that Ghost had left again, but he had to do this. 

Dick was sitting with an arm around Tim on the meeting table. Tim looked wrecked - good, he thought grimly and immediately felt guilty. He didn’t even have the pit to blame and yes Jason was angry about what had happened tonight, but really he was just as angry at himself. Jason might have tried to make them understand that Ghost needed help, but he’d done a poor job of it and they didn’t hear his grief for themselves. 

They hadn’t felt Ghost’s terror in their electricity trap, his desperate fight to control his panic, they hadn’t felt it as he fell or the shock of pain as he landed. They hadn’t felt the panic reach a fever pitch and then utter silence.

They hadn’t been 50 yards away on another building, running, because they knew something terrible was about to happen. They weren’t the ones who thought they might have already been too late even as they caught him out of the air. 

But Ghost had been alive. He’d been breathing. Panicked, but breathing, yet still utter silence. 

Jason had been terrified. 

And yes he was angry. He should have never let it get so far even in his desperation. They needed to stop chasing him. It wasn’t working. 

It had nearly cost him his life. 

He was a fucking burglar, not a rogue! He wasn’t a murderer who would kill someone if he wasn’t stopped. They should have never used this level of force. They never would have used this level of force if it wasn’t for Jason and his erratic behavior. It was on Jason, not Tim who was a seventeen year old kid just trying to keep this cursed family together. 

Damian was sitting at the meeting table a few seats away from where Tim and Dick were sitting on the table and for him to willingly be that close to Tim without any needle-ing commentary it was practically the equivalent of a hug. 

Jason sighed, then pulled off his helmet and left it on the bike. He couldn’t hide behind the safety of its smooth surface, not for this. He walked over to the meeting table, knowing it would draw the rest over there.

Damian took one look at him, with that sharp judgment that was always in his eyes. “You let him get away.” Jason grit his teeth, refusing to rise to what was just an observation, but it had been a trying night and it was tempting to snap, that he didn’t let him do anything. 

“His powers returned,” he said finally, carefully even-toned.

Tim looked up shortly at that and Dick squeezed his shoulder. Normally, Tim would have been on that detail like a hawk. How long did it last? Did the powers return gradually or all at once? Were there other adverse effects? And probably more questions Jason had not even thought to consider because that was just Tim. Now, Tim was silent.

“Jason?” Bruce asked carefully from somewhere to Jason’s left. Jason couldn’t look at him. Last time they’d been this close Jason had almost shot him. 

Stephanie and Cass joined Tim and Dick to sit on the table, and Damian allowed Cass’ hand in his hair only because she could kick his ass six ways ’til Sunday. Duke was the last to join their loose circle standing to Jason’s right. 

Jason didn’t have any excuses left. He even saw Alfred standing a ways further by the wall. Everyone was here. Babs was definitely still on comms with Bruce, even if the cowl was pulled back. 

He tried to take a steadying breath without being too obvious about it. He probably failed, horribly. 

“You have to leave Ghost to me.”

“Jay… you’ve not exactly…” Dick said carefully, the only one willing to even go near the fact that Jason should be the last person to go after Ghost. That he had been far from rational about the whole thing. That he was invested, personally more than they could even guess. 

“I need-“ Jason looked to the ceiling, breathing for just a moment, before looking down again. “I need you to trust me on this, to let me handle it. What happened tonight… it cannot happen again.” 

He clenched his hands, gathered every shred of courage, then looked to Bruce. 

“Dad, please…” He ignored the gasps from his siblings, from shock or outrage that he of all people pulled this card, maybe both, it didn’t matter. Jason only had eyes for Bruce’s stunned face, for the way his jaw tightened and his eyes were moist under pained brows. He only had ears for the way Bruce’s voice broke partway as he said: “Of course, Jaylad.”

“Thank you,” Jason whispered, afraid his voice would fail him if he spoke any louder. He held Bruce’s gaze with his as he said it, because he deserved to know how much that meant to him. The urge to go over to Bruce was strong, to see if his dad would hug him if given the chance - he thought he would, but that, that would be too much, and the pit would be back in a couple of days. 

Jason couldn’t handle any more tonight. 

He gave Bruce a tight nod and turned to leave, avoiding looking at the reactions of his siblings. 

Out the corner of his eyes as he left, he absently noted the purple backpack he’d stolen from Ghost sitting by the evidence board and that metal cylinder, Ghost had left behind the night Jason had met him, sitting on a shelf amongst other knickknacks. 

In the back of his mind an idea was taking shape, but he'd only realize that the next day.

-

I made myself cry writing this, that happens very rarely. Jason has had a really bad day, but it was the father-son feelings that did me in.

I do not know when I will update next time, the chapter this part belongs to is like 2/3rds done now, but it's the middle I need to fill out. Oh well, I'm enjoying the writing bug while it lasts. Update: Next

[dalishious]

You probably already received this question way back in the day, but I feel it would be interesting to hear your current perspective on the matter now that Veilguard released.

What are your thoughts on the decision to keep Solas' romance locked to female only? (the whole Lavellan only aspect being a topic of its own I feel) Personally I just don't see Solas as considering physical sex as important anyway, especially with his spirit background in mind. Now gender might be another thing, but I still can't see it as impacting his preferance one way or another.

To go back to a more Doylist perspective.. I know the writers considered having him be open for all genders in Inquisition, but decided against it due to fear of playing into the depraved bisexual trope.

Which I find ridiculous, since Solas in no shape or form exhibits any of the characteristics associated with it, other than being in an antagonistic role. The only way I could see it being problematic at all is if he had been the only bi/pan option in the game and that is just not the case.

My canon Inquisitor is a male Lavellan and I have always considered him and Solas as having feelings for each other. To have Inquistion and now Veilguard block that possibility out is more than a little frustrating I have to say. I honestly wouldn't have minded if Veilguard had just given the option to say you romanced Solas as a male Lavellan anyway, but I know that would have caused more drama.

Hey, I'm really sorry I am only getting to this wonderful ask now! Sometimes I go through periods of putting off messages until I forget about them...

Even before the DATV revelations that Solas and the other first ancient elves went to the build-a-body workshop rather than being born of a womb, in DAI, Solas expressed a distinction between physical body and person-hood. Solas advocates that spirits are still people, even if they don't have a physical body to define them. He also has a lot of dialogue that talks about how much he admires the Inquisitor's "rare and marvellous spirit," which can easily be read as his attraction not fitting sex or gender into the equation.

It makes sense to me that spirits, and ancient elves who come from spirits like Solas, would probably have a different perspective on sex and gender than those from modern day Thedas. Like, he predates any gender and orientation-based discriminatory views in Thedas! He predates bodies period!

I agree that simply making Solas bi while keeping the rest of him as he is would not have led to any problematic biphobic tropes. But even if it did... why draw the line at Solas, but not other characters? This is the same game with Sera after all, is full of lesbophobic and transphobic writing! If the explanation was simply "we didn't have time to make animations for everyone with his character" I would understand more; Solas's romance was after all added only at the very tail-end of development iirc.

Anyway, I 100% support bi Solas, and by extension, people who make fan content of him falling in love with male or enby characters!

[bambieyedoll]

⋆·˚ ༘ * EMBRY CALL HEADCANONS 𐚁̸.ᐟ

𐙚 hallway crush | krystopher hyatt!embry

embry doesn’t even realize he has a crush on you at first.

it starts with how you always walk down the hallway with your headphones in, eyes a little tired, bag always slipping off your shoulder. something about that quiet, tucked-in energy draws his attention.

you brushed past him in the hallway between periods, earbuds in, eyes focused ahead. he turned his head to watch you go and kept turning his head for the next week.

he sees you in third period once—just once—and for the next two weeks, he’s changing his route between classes just to catch that glimpse of you passing by your locker, even if it means being late.

you never look at him. or at least, not that he notices. you always seem a little in your head, like you’re running on a delay.

it drives him crazy in the gentlest way.

every time he sees you, he gets that weird, punch-in-the-stomach kind of flutter. his wolf senses dialed everything up—your scent, the sound of your laugh, the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your notebook when you’re waiting outside class.

it’s sensory overload in the best, most torturous way.

“who is that?” he asked jacob once, when you walked past in a hoodie with your hood pulled halfway up and your books hugged to your chest. jacob shrugged. “no clue, man, but you’ve been staring at her for like… thirty straight seconds.”

embry gets weirdly shy when you’re around. and embry is not usually shy. but something about you—your quiet confidence, the way you never linger in crowds—makes him feel like a clumsy kid again.

he tries once to say hi to you near your locker, but all he manages is this awkward throat-clear before you disappear around the corner, completely oblivious.

he leans back against the wall, mutters under his breath: “smooth, man. real smooth.”

the pack teases him relentlessly.

embry thinks he’s being subtle, but of course the pack catches on. paul catches him glancing your way and smirks, “you gonna say something, romeo, or just keep fantasizing about her in the hallway?”

“you’re worse than a middle schooler,” quil adds. “he’s got it bad. look at his face—he’s got that dreamy thing going on again.”

they absolutely make him fumble harder.

like shouting “hey embry! there she is!” the moment you enter the hallway, just to watch him panic and pretend to be deeply interested in a vending machine.

but you’re not totally oblivious.

after a while, you do notice that he always seems to be near your locker, or that he looks away real fast when you glance up.

you tell yourself it’s nothing. but then one day you catch him actually staring—and for once, he doesn’t look away fast enough. your eyes meet. he looks like a deer caught in headlights… and you smile at him.

he forgets how to breathe. literally.

quil has to slap him on the back later to get him to stop coughing. “she smiled at me,” embry mumbles, dazed. “i think i blacked out.”

the first real conversation happens in the most embarrassing way.

you drop your notebook in the hallway, papers flying everywhere, and of course embry is the first one there to help.

you both reach for the same page. fingers brush. lightning bolt. he stammers something about “bad day?” and you just smile, like it’s not a big deal. “more like a bad week.”

that’s when he finally sees you up close—your eyes, your quiet expression, the way you’re still catching your breath from rushing between classes. he thinks, she’s even prettier up close, and panics internally.

“i’m embry,” he says, offering the page back.

“i know,” you answer softly. “i’ve seen you around.”

after that first awkward but sweet exchange, embry spends the rest of the day thinking about how your fingers touched. he stares at the notebook page he forgot to hand you back like it’s sacred text.

“she knows you?” quil teases after embry tells the pack what you said. “‘i’ve seen you around?’ bro, she’s been watching you too. it’s like fate.”

from that day on, embry starts saying hi when he sees you. it’s always a little sheepish—like he’s not sure if he’s interrupting your thoughts—but your smiles get warmer each time.

one day, you wait at your locker a little longer just to catch him walking by. you lean casually against the metal and ask, “are you ever not walking by this hallway?” he nearly drops his books. “uh—no—i mean—yes—i have… a class.” and you laugh.

it’s the highlight of his entire week.

at first, you don’t really question it. people pass each other in the halls all the time, right?

but then it’s like… he’s always there. every day. same times. same locker row. same half-smile like he wasn’t just clearly waiting for you to walk by.

you catch yourself checking for him, too. your eyes skim the crowd automatically, scanning for tall and soft-eyed and nervous. and when you don’t see him, your stomach drops just a little. weird.

when the imprint hits, it wrecks him. it happens totally unexpectedly. you’re just walking across the parking lot one day, hoodie zipped, earbuds in, the afternoon light behind you—and embry’s whole world slams into place.

it’s not like falling. it’s like recognizing. like everything in him goes silent except you—your heartbeat, your face, your scent, the way you’re muttering to yourself as you try to untangle your headphones.

completely unaware that embry call now looks at you like he just saw his destiny in human form.

he stands completely frozen beside jacob’s car. “oh no,” he says quietly. “oh no no no—”

“dude?” jake asks. “you okay?”

embry doesn’t answer. he’s just staring across the lot like he’s seen a ghost—or a miracle. he mumbles, “it’s her,” and jake groans, “your hallway crush? you imprinted on her? man, you’re never gonna live this down.”

he doesn’t talk to you for two days afterward. he physically can’t. every time he gets near you, it feels like static under his skin and his throat closes up.

the pack notices immediately. “he’s gone,” quil whispers. “look at him. he’s not even blinking.” paul’s smug. “hallway crush? updated to mate.”

he doesn’t tell you right away.

he doesn’t want to overwhelm you. you’re still getting comfortable with him, and he’s terrified of scaring you off.

but now that the imprint’s kicked in, everything intensifies. every glance feels loaded, every accidental touch feels like fire.

you start to feel it too, in a way you can’t explain. like your stomach flips when he’s nearby. like your day’s a little emptier when you don’t see him in the hall.

he starts hovering in the most hilarious, obvious ways. standing just a little too long near your locker. walking slower behind you in the halls. sitting one row over in the library and pretending to read.

he remembers everything you say. you once offhandedly mentioned liking lemon muffins—guess who shows up every morning holding one like he “accidentally got two.”

embry becomes so hyperaware of you. he knows your schedule better than his own. if you’re late to school one day, he spends the entire first period unable to sit still, texting jacob like:

“she’s not here. do you think she’s sick? hurt? gone? wait, what if she moved?”

jacob: “BRO, she probably overslept.”

you once dropped your pen in class and he practically dove to grab it before anyone else could. handed it to you like it was made of glass.

when you thank him with a smile, he gets so flustered he forgets how to use words. just nods. blinks. smiles like an idiot for the next 45 minutes.

one day you ask if he wants to walk with you after school. he tries to play it cool. says “sure.” internally? screaming. spiraling. floating. already planning a wedding.

the yearning is UNHINGED.

embry has this look he does when you’re not watching. soft and aching, like you hung the stars. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. the pack has started calling it “the imprint stare”

he dreams about you. not even in a romantic way—just dreams where you sit beside him and talk, or fall asleep against his shoulder, and he wakes up clutching his pillow with this ache in his chest.

he gets physically anxious if he doesn’t see you during the day. even a short conversation calms something in him. just hearing your voice grounds him like nothing else.

he starts carrying extra gum because he noticed you like the mint kind.

he gives you his jacket when it’s cold—tries to brush it off like it’s no big deal, but watches you wear it with wide, glassy eyes like you just handed him your heart.

he always picks up random little things that remind him of you. a pressed flower, a sticker from a vending machine, a keychain he saw at a gas station. he keeps them in a box under his bed, too afraid to give them to you.

inside his head, 24/7:

“she smiled at me. she smiled at ME.”

“what if she never likes me back? what if i mess this up? what if she thinks i’m weird?”

“how do i even explain the imprint? hey, so you’re kind of my soulmate now. no pressure?”

“maybe i’ll just stay close. quiet. gentle. until she chooses me back.”

every single random act of kindness go straight to your heart. and honestly? it’s starting to mess with your head.

the internal monologue starts spiraling.

“okay. so maybe he likes me. maybe. maybe he’s just polite. or maybe he’s like this with everyone? but no. no one else gets that smile.”

“god, what if i’m making it up? what if i flirt back and he’s just—like—a nice person and then i’m the weirdo?”

but your friends notice it.

“embry call? that tall guy with the hair? girl, he’s so into you. it’s embarrassing.”

you catch yourself dressing a little nicer on days you might see him. thinking about what you’d say if he did confess something.

you don’t know yet—

that every second he’s around you, he’s fighting the urge to confess everything.

that your voice calms something ancient in him.

that to him, you’re already it. you’ve always been it.

[jellitchi]

vat7k designs in my head...

i thought their canon designs were a eensy weensy bit Unpolished so i made these mostly for myself. erm if u rly want it i think varian is 19 here, hugo 19, nuru 18, yong 12.

i also made rhem all playlists and had to draw them a cover so thats what the last img is I linked each of em under my notes for all of em... Under the cut is Like a Huge Infodump of notes i have for each chara,,,,,,

i kept varians design basically the same, i dislike the design w the orange neck thing so i just Nuked it😭... Here's Varians playlist

Hugos design i just wanted to put him in something more Loose. hes a thief, a professional escape artist. i dont think wearing clunky metal is ideal for him. i also gave him a prosthetic arm (blond w no arm design trope!) but u cant see it in the ref so i added another drawing of him in his under layering👍 i vaguely referenced russian(?) clothes for him as well... Yeah not too much changed w him i just tried to make him slippery-er. Here's Hugo's playlist

yong came relatively easy to me, if it wasn't obvious i did rip gaming from g*nshin's hoodie. i thought the lion hood was Adorable and freaking perfect for what i had in mind for hos character. since the og notes said the fire kingdom is loosely Chinese inspired i basically just kept that. i mashed tgt a buncha diff dynasties though sorry for how inconsistent i was... i think he looks Okay. anyways i changed yongs role a bit, ill explain why im adjusting some of their roles later but i kept yong as the Jinx Type character. hes the eldest in his family and has a buncha younger siblings, hes a lion dancer and does performances w his family/siblings. he rly like special effects n keeps tryna incorporate his fireworks into their performances (it flops and he has to sew up the dmg) ill explain more of yongs role in another post maybe shrugs... Here's Yong's Playlist

miss nuru was a bit of a struggle for me i might share my full design process with her coz i did a Bunch of mockups for her😭😭😭... i didnt have a specific country of reference for her but i chose to make her vaguely south asian inspired. i also really wanted to keep the sheer fabric w the star / constellation map. i love that idea its so cute so shes still technically the navigator. but she also wields a sword too, fencing or whatever. (her and varian r Huge Cass fangirls which is probably why she started tryna use a sword (snuck out to watch cass compete) Okay ill talk abt this later) in my head, okay ill Probably make a whole nother post talking abt how im interpreting/writing each chara, but in my head i think nuru is the youngest and her kingdom's archivist. shes mostly in charge of like Her kingdoms history / artifacts / etc. ok im getting too side tracked ill save the lore dump for later but thats Nurus role in the party. Here's Nuru's Playlist

uhm below i made their character stats mostly to help me with planning / role developing. the yellow is their base stats the color behind is their end stats i guess. i was gonna explain my reasoning for their stats but ermm this post is kinda Really long so sorry😭... varian max int for obvious reasons, also max charisma just coz i feel like u kinda learn a thing or two being around a couple manipulators and spending time in jail idk shrugs... (also lets not forget the "ud b surprised what ppl would do for a cookie!") Hugo slippery guy, if a brick is thrown at him as hes running hes gonna try n run faster to shatter it, his mindset is Run Run Run! i think hes relatively agile too but yeah mostly a Speedster. i think he n varian got no Physical strength varian maybe just like A little coz Farm boy but I rly doubt quirin is making him do a Lotta heavy lifting. yong has incredible stamina and agility because hed a performer. nuru is the strongest coz this team would literally Flop without a proper Offense😭... i think varian n hugo r able to outwit plenty of their opponents but i think nuru is pretty good in a fight, same w yong. Yeah Okay Sorry for a Long Long Post thanks hope u guys enjoy

[siddyyyyyyyy]

YYAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY

okay hear me out

Jason todd x daughter!reader/gn!teenage reader who basically went through the same torture as him? like idk maybe we got captured by some villains when he wasn't present or something 🙏🏼😔

if im completely honest I'm in need of some angst w/ a fluffy ending 🙂‍↕️ (daddy issues much..........?????????????) love u bro 💕🙏🏼

Flashbacks

Father!Jason Todd x Teenage!reader

wc: 2K summary: You get captured by a past villian, but your father saves you. warnings: angst/comfort, blood, kidnapping, violance, branding scars, no y/n used a/n: Thank you so much for the request!!!! this actually reminded me of another req I did a while ago; Safe Again !! I actually didn't expect for the father!Jason AU to go this well, but I'm not complaining, I'm really glad a lot of you liked it! enjoy this request, thanks again🤗

»For the last time, tell me everthing. Or else I‘ll cut off your head.«

He threatens, squeezing his throat dangerously tight while the cartel leader keeps his wide eyes on the white slits of his helmet, being just as helpless.

The Red Hood is relentless and unhinged in his approach, not letting anyone go without at least one dangerous injury.

He didn‘t know what to do when he woke up from a long nap after patrol and he didn‘t see you at home. You should‘ve been at home a good while ago, and you never mentioned going out with friends after school. He tried checking your phone, but it‘s a lost cause. There‘s no way to track you down or find your last coordinates.

It‘s been almost two days and he finally found a lead. A smaller warehouse, located near a place he forced himself to forget about. Even now, staring at the big screen of his computer, he hopes this is all a bad dream. It‘s more difficult to focus, but he forces himself to get over his inner turmoils and save you. To bring his baby back.

The warehouse was easy to find once he got there, uncomfortable memories flooding through his mind again, making him tense up further. There weren‘t as much guards around, making him doubt that this is the correct location. But he was desperate. Desperate to find you, to bring you back to safety. He doesn‘t want to imagine what could‘ve possibly happened to you during those two days, when he couldn‘t find a single trace of you.

It was scaring him.

He doesn‘t want to fail like…

God, like Bruce did.

But this is real, and it feels like you are already slipping through his fingers. These past two days felt like the longest time in a while. He couldn‘t sleep, didn‘t eat, he focused entirely on finding you again. On getting his baby back.

Jason tenses up at the sound of chains dragging against concrete. It‘s a small sound, but enough to draw his attention and make him grow slightly more paranoid. His feet drag him towards the sound, the hall growing darker as he approaches the main area of the warehouse, being lighted up by a faint bulb at the middle of the ceiling.

He finally reaches the big room, the sight of you making his breath hitch. It‘s like a giant punch to his lungs, he can‘t seem to breathe properly as he takes you in, seated on a chair, hands tied up into the air, head hanging low.

His head jerks to the side once another figure appears, dragging a chain behind him, eyes focused on him like a hyena stalking its prey. But this time, it‘s not Red Hood who intimidates a poor mugger. It‘s someone who he is familiar with, but can‘t seem to recognise him entirely at the same time. There‘s something different, as if it‘s not exactly the same villian he expected to see.

»Red... hood. How unexpected. Yet predictable. Of course you‘d go after poor children, wouldn‘t you?«

»What did you do?«

Jason hisses back, drawing his gun out and pointing to the copy cat. But the other person doesn‘t seem to be threatened, putting his hands up in mock surrender, chuckling lightly at him, amused.

Your head continues to hang low, seemingly unconscious. Jason keeps his eyes forward on the threat, not daring to look at your beaten body just yet.

»Oh, I think you know it best.« The copy-cat shoots back. Jason‘s blood runs cold. His grip falters ever so slightly on his gun before he finally charges forward, violantly pushing him on the ground, beating the heel of his gun into the other‘s face repeatedly.

He won‘t let the same thing happen to you. You are innocent. You never got wind of his nightly activities in Crime Alley and around Gotham, at least he never told you about them. He didn‘t want you to know the details, even though you are old enough to know about them.

»You—« another hit, »should‘ve—«, another one, »died,«, one final hit to his head, »a long time ago.«

The copy-cat of Joker can‘t help but laugh quietly under him, despite his jaw being locked unnnaturaly. Jason‘s gun is pointed on his forehead, pulling the safety off as he takes a trembling breath.

»I‘ll show you what‘s funny,« after one final breath, Jason pulls the trigger, landing several bullets into his head.

The warehouse grows quiet, leaving Jason with his own feelings. He stares back at the lifeless body under him, the familiarity to Joker making his skin crawl. Finally, he pushes himself off of him, packing his gun back into his holster. His gaze settles back on you, still unconscious on the chair, clothes a bit shredded, your arms chained up into the air.

His stomach churns at the sight, but he keeps it together, approaching you and carefully freeing you.

Your wrists are burning red from being chained up for so long, you body sagging forward once they are free from the chains. Your form is thinner, dark circles under you eyes, hair messed up slightly.

He coos quietly as he picks you up into his arms, making sure not to press on any cuts or bruises. And finally, he brings you home, setting you down on the couch of the living room. He notices you waking up slowly, eyelids fluttering open.

You can feel the aches settling in your body again, your head pounding from all the hits you had to take earlier. Jason stays kneeled down in front of the couch, his hand gently stroking over you head.

»You‘re safe, angel. I‘m here.« His voice quiet and gentle, eyes soft as ever.

You hear him exhale heavily before hugging you carefully, leaning over your weak form on the couch. His heart clenches as you try to hug him back, your hand falling back on the couch, feeling the aching stings through your muscles.

Jason takes a deep breath, forcing himelf to get it together and stay composed in front of you. You need someone to rely to right now, and he would do anything to make you feel safe again.

»Let me check on you, okay? I‘ll fix you up,« his bigger hands let go of you, carefully moving you around a little to examine your weakened body. He notices light cuts along your body, mostly bruises along your soft skin.

You wince once he turns you on your side, immediately letting go and trying to find the source of pain.

»Where does it hurt, hm?« His expression grows more worried, waiting for you to tell him what hurts, already prepared for anything. You gesture at the side you laid on just now, pulling up your shirt a bit to reveal the larger wound.

Jason takes in the branding scar, clenching his fists tightly. The branding scar seems to be some kind of symbol of the copy-cat, revealing a bright smile with chunky teeth. He runs his hand through his hair before he stands up, making his way to find his first aid kit. The apartment grows quiet again, only interrupted by your light winces of pain and steadying breaths to keep the pain under control.

He manages to patch you up fully, making sure that nothing can get infected. You watch him get back into his bedroom for a moment before returning a moment later, handing you over one of his hoodies. He helps you to sit back up on the couch, watching as you stubbornly put it on yourself without any help.

»I‘ll make us some dinner. Want something special?«

He kneels down in front of you again, taking your hand in his to brush his thumb along your knuckles, ready to take any request you‘ll make. You shake your head a bit, accepting any kind of warm meal you will receive.

Eventually, Jason gets to the kitchen and starts making your favourite, letting you stay in the living room with your favourite childhood show playing on TV. Jason lets his thoughts wander while he cooks, letting himself spiral a little in the comfort of his own home.

He keeps comparing himself to Bruce, telling himself that he dodged a big bullet by finding you in time. The fact that you could‘ve died without him knowing, without being able to save you…

The vegetables gently simmer in the pan as he keeps quiet, trying to think of lighter things. With a heavy sigh, he hopes you won‘t hold the same grudge against him, like he does with Bruce. He saved you, he got you back, you won‘t hate him… right?

Jason finally serves two plates for the two of you, entering the living room once more. He notices the way you sit curled up on the couch, surrounded by fuzzy blanket, drowning in his big hoodie. He smiles fondly as he hands you over your plate, sitting down beside you, making sure he doesn‘t accidentally hurt you.

The familiar show brings a sense of nostalgia in him, remembering the early days when you were just a small child, when you had dinner together every evening, and giggled over funny scenes and jokes in the show. But now, you are a little more grown up, barely sixteen years old, sitting beside him after getting rescued.

You finish up your plate after a while, laying your head back on his shoulder. A familiar safety you‘ve grown used to.

»You know I will always find you, right? I will always protect you.« He mutters softly, keeping his eyes trained on the TV.

You listen to him, deciding to stay quiet as he finally shows a more vulnerable, more raw side of him. As his child, you never saw many strong emotions from him, having been helped with yours instead. He always tried his best to understand your emotions and help you get through them, especially when puberty hit you pretty hard. Still, it‘s strange to see him be so open about his thoughts and feelings.

»I know I should‘ve been there to protect you— but I wasn‘t… and— and I will make sure to always be there from now on.« He finishes his small monologue, but you aren‘t as emotional as him. You simply train your eyes on him, speaking up for the first time

»You were always there, dad. It‘s not your fault.« You tell him matter of factly, not having the energy to have a long heart-on-heart with him right now, especi ally after such a hearty meal, making your eyelids heavy. Jason notices your growing tiredness, recongising your familiar character come back to the surface. He keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders, squeezing gently.

»Okay, I‘ll keep quiet.« Jason promises as he actually grows quiet, allowing you to finally relax further and enjoy the comfort of the home.

Some time goes by before you manage to slip into a light sleep, dozing off against his shoulder as if it‘s a soft pillow. Your father smiles faintly to himself as he notices, letting you fall into a deeper sleep, before carefully picking you up and settling you into his own bed. He remembers the time when you were younger, too afraid to sleep in your own big room, still freshly taken in by him.

Your body stays relaxed and safe in his covers, his hoodie still on you, drowning you in, keeping you safe. Jason decides to stay awake, being unable to fall asleep still. He uses the time to clean up in the kitchen and have some more time to process what happened exactly. He knows Bruce will eventually find out about everything, he still killed the copy- cat in the warehouse, after all. Just another way to get lectured by Bruce, as if he hasn‘t heard it enough times already.

Sitting down by the kitchen island, he picks up his phone in forever, searching a certain contact. The dial tone rings quietly through the kitchen until the other person on the line picks up, letting out a soft grunt of acknowledgement.

»Hey, dad...«

←MASTERLIST

taglist₊‧.°.⋆˚₊‧⋆. @143637-hrrm @dollyure @ibreathesmut @dreamzaremyrealityy @lunana98 @pitofrats @joonunivrs @reallycreativeusername @oneiropoloss

[jenscx]

LET ME IN — yu jimin

you return to your hometown after being overseas for years. there was no possible way for you to anticipate your old high school sweetheart waiting at the airport.

tags angst, fluff, exes to lovers, happy ending, high school sweetheart, cursing

wordcount 5.1k

the sweater that you had picked out today, feels unfamiliar on your skin. it’s the one which reads, ‘seniors of 2018’. it’s the one you had never gone near, leaving it to rot in your closet. it’s the one that holds the most painful memories for you. how could a piece of clothing cause you so much pain?

frankly, you know why. it’s the one jimin had given to you as you left for the train to the airport. “something to remember me by,” she had stated after pulling it over the top of your head.

you had huffed, playfully asking, “how could i ever forget you?”

your closet had witnessed your stares— or rather glares at the sweater. not until an hour had passed, when you finally heaved a sigh and grabbed it off the hanger that was situated at the corner of the closet. it’s just because it’s comfortable, you had reasoned before. and it didn’t matter what you wore underneath the puffer jacket, it would end up covered.

of course, these were all excuses, trying to deny the very fact that it just reminded you of jimin. and you were very welcoming towards such reminders.

reminders of what?

you shake your head, picturing a blank canvas before the melodic laughter filled your ears. jimin’s laugh.

the screeching of your luggage’s wheels distract you. aeri’s standing at the door, a hand on your suitcase.

“hey girl,” she checks the watch on her wrist, “we gotta go. flight’s at 2.”

you nod, ignoring the fact that you had spent almost two whole hours thinking about the repercussions of returning back to… home? could you even call it that?

aeri seems to notice your inner turmoil, since in the taxi, she places a comforting hand over yours, sending you a small smile. while it didn’t really settle your nerves, you appreciated the effort nonetheless.

the journey to the boarding gate is like a fever dream. your airpods betraying you, randomly shuffling to a girls’ generation song. it was like a cry back to the past, when you and jimin would listen to girls’ generation songs together.

for jimin, you had complied.

you open your eyes, you can only see the back of someone’s head above the aeroplane’s seat. if you keep your eyes closed for too long, you might start to envision a blur of jimin’s perfect eyes, her nose, her lips that were always pursed in disappointment when she caught you and minjeong stealing her snacks…

the realisation that you can’t remember the face that once made you the happiest girl on the planet hits hard. it hits harder than the guilt and misery you felt when jimin, a week after you had left korea, sent a flurry of messages that went unresponded.

“i didn’t know you liked girls’ generation,” aeri comments. startled, you stare at your phone, the lock screen wallpaper being jimin’s back displaying girls’ generation’s holiday night baseball t-shirt. the girl had forced you to buy matching ones with her, you recall bitterly.

“i don’t,” you answer coolly, swiftly turning off your phone. aeri eyes you weirdly but eventually lets you off the hook and leans back into her seat.

the rest of the thirteen hours flight, you busy yourself with work— leftovers from the time before break, drafts of sketches, thesis statements and long-winded essays. while a plane was not the best environment to finish a full drawing, you could at least make some rough sketches. somehow, your pencil graphite gravitates from sturdy, concrete buildings to soft cheekbones, hooded eyes, pouty lips.

shit, you blink, taking in your subconscious sketch of a woman, familiar to your past.

almost instantly shutting your sketchbook shut, you ignore the implications of what your mind was telling you. the crew neck sweater itches at your neck. it’s almost like the words embroidered on the cotton burn into your heart, to always make you remember and recall the time before messy relationships, longing feelings and just enjoying the present time.

time. you didn’t have much of it anyway.

maybe this trip would allow you to make peace with the past. you wouldn’t flinch whenever your friends would talk about league of legends champion, ‘katarina’, or you wouldn’t immediately decline movie night with aeri in fear that one of the actresses would look eerily similar to jimin.

allowing your brain to wander past your comfort zone, you wonder what she's doing now. was she a flight stewardess? did she manage to finally get better at pubg? was her favourite colour still blue? did she still have that sparkle in her eyes when food was brought up?

the last thought makes you chuckle, reminiscing how excited jimin was whenever food was involved. when yizhuo would bring back mala snacks from china, jimin would be gone in a flash.

(so would yizhuo’s snacks, you can’t count the number of times you were forced to lie about who the perpetrator was.

maybe it was worth it when jimin would beam at you, flashing a bright smile that rivalled the shine of diamonds).

with bittersweet memories, you drift off. sleepless nights made up for, by just giving yourself permission to think about her.

you dream of crashing waves, two people on the shore, just sitting down and gazing at the scenery. the sunset’s everlasting in this timeline. like time doesn’t exist and all they did was stare at the deep ocean.

before you even get to see their faces, the announcement rings throughout the flight.

you sigh deeply, catching the attention of aeri.

“you okay? you slept so soundly, i thought you died,” the japanese girl asks worriedly. you laugh, it was the best sleep you ever got, and it was on an aeroplane.

strange how our consciousness works.

“i’m good,” this time you weren’t lying.

you stare at the glass doors, wondering if minjeong had told anyone else to come fetch you. it wasn’t a far fetched thought, maybe the girl had asked yizhuo to come as well. the chinese girl would kill minjeong if she didn’t tell her about your arrival back in korea after what? three, almost four years?

“hey, i asked my friend to pick us up and she might have brought someone else,” you warn aeri.

“oh that’s fun… why do you sound so scared?”

“because, the other girl is a little overbearing,” you scoff, “she might try to climb you, just a warning.”

aeri widens her eyes as you two drag your luggage to the gates.

she gapes, “no kidding? is she a koala or something?”

“something like that,” you shrug.

the doors open. it’s your first step (not really) into korea. the air is the same anywhere else, but the feeling isn’t.

it’s the feeling of uncertainty. the feeling of fear. aeri clasps your free hand tightly in hers, sensing your hesitance.

your gaze glides over the crowd of people waiting for their own family. aeri makes a noise of recognition and she pulls you to the side, you finally spot someone familiar.

“minjeong…!” you call out, voice going silent at the sight of a girl that is most definitely not minjeong.

it’s not yizhuo either, that’s for sure.

“did minjeong get plastic surgery or something?”

you want to run.

“because… that’s not— that’s not minjeong,” you whisper, “that’s yu jimin.”

aeri deadpans, “you say that like i know who the hell she is.”

you want to kill minjeong. and maybe jimin wants to kill aeri with how hard she’s glaring at her.

jimin only trots slowly towards you.

jimin’s eyes dart from aeri’s face back to yours, her hard, cold gaze trailing down to your sweater that has come uncovered by the puffer jacket. your eyes narrow when she raises an eyebrow at you, as if asking you, “why are you wearing that?”

you don’t answer her, because you don’t know either.

“i’m jimin, y/n’s—”

“friend,” you interrupt, quickly turning away to avoid the flash of hurt on jimin’s face.

the mentioned girl recovers quickly, putting on a fake smile, “classmate of y/n from high school.”

“i’m uchinaga aeri, y/n’s roommate, thank you for picking us up!” aeri grins widely, ignoring the deadly lasers pointing her way.

“where are you staying, if i may ask?” jimin’s sharp tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“with y/n—”

you cover aeri’s mouth, knowing how jimin gets, “it’s none of your business.”

your roommate makes a noise of indignation and licks a long strip across your palm. you groan, taking it off her mouth and wiping it on her jacket.

“that’s so gross,” you mutter in english.

“your english has gotten better,” jimin notes as the three of you walk to her car.

you don’t know what to say, so you stay silent.

“where do you stay, jimin-ssi?” aeri makes small talk to cover up the awkward silence. you thank her internally.

jimin stares at you through the mirror, “with y/n.”

you bite your lip, nervous at what jimin might say next. you had never told aeri about your complicated relationship with jimin and you didn’t plan to. only because of kim minjeong meddling in, now it seems like everything has to be uncovered again.

“she’s a bad roommate, right?” surprisingly, aeri ignores jimin’s statement and instead continues to complain about you.

you’re shocked, to say the least. you thought aeri would have started blabbing and asking probing questions about your past roommate situation. or maybe she noticed your sullen look.

“i thought four years would have been enough for her to change her bad habits,” jimin says.

you know for a fact she isn’t talking about the same thing as aeri. jimin was even worse than you as a roommate; eating your secret snack stash, never cleaning up the pile of laundry she had in her room and always invading your alone time in bed.

“many things have changed,” you mumble, “i’m not the same as before.”

the car goes silent, jimin probably analysing your words while aeri pouts, confused by the strange tension you had with your so-called friend.

“if you desire something enough, you’d want it to stay the same forever.”

you retort, “change is inevitable.”

aeri says quietly in the corner, “i know the guy who said that, his name is like john, or something.”

struggling to keep your laughter silent, you splutter in aghast at aeri’s sudden general knowledge.

“you’re so strange,” you comment.

aeri laughs, “i know, but you like me for that, right?”

(“—only had a brain the size of a walnut, that’s why the stegosaurus was one of the dumbest dinosaurs!” jimin reads out loud from your bed.

you stand at your vanity, finishing up your skincare, trying not to laugh at jimin’s absurd dinosaur facts, “you’re so weird.”

“you like that about me though?”)

you sense how intimate the conversation feels for the both of you, so you stop answering aeri and instead focus on jimin. her grip on the steering wheel has tightened significantly, eyes burning with something you can’t identify.

“you’re being annoying again, go to sleep or something, it’s a long drive from here to my house—” you halt in the middle of your sentence, finally questioning the very fact of… why?

why is yu jimin here? even if minjeong asked her to, why? the jimin you knew would never do this. the jimin you knew would never give up her sleeping time just to fetch an old friend, who she maybe had something going on with, and a stranger? yizhuo had friends from china who were visiting, and even then, jimin refused to fetch them from the airport. she was the only one in your friend group with a licence so it only made sense to ask her.

you try to bury yourself in the sweater even more. it was fine for now. seeing jimin in the flesh. but maybe you were so jet lagged that you hadn’t made sense of the situation yet.

the only sensible thing to do for now, was to let yourself escape into dreamland and wait for the morning after.

you can only anticipate it would be full of awkward silence, tension-filled gazes, hesitant actions.

it’s difficult to fall asleep. you decide to blame your insomnia on the nap you had during the flight. even when you know it’s because of the deeply asleep body, separated by a thin wall.

you’re sitting upright, staring at the unveiled moon. it’s stunning, not like the sun which literally glares. the moon is calming, easing you into the next day, all while making you feel… loneliness.

how could you feel lonely even with so many people around you?

(“do you think soulmates exist?” you had asked, curious of jimin’s take on such tales.

the girl seems taken aback, but she ultimately replies, “if they do, i think you’re mine.”)

you clench the duvet in your fists tightly, mind grasping at any other thought than of yu jimin. it’s unfortunate that you seem to enjoy the pain and torture past memories bring with how often your brain wanders through them.

maybe it’s time to come clean with yourself.

you were back in your hometown. you were staying in the same apartment as you did before you left. one that you shared with yu jimin; one that you called home.

eyes starting to become watery, you wipe them off and take a seat at your desk. if you were going to stay awake the rest of the night, might as well get work done. pulling out your sketchbook, the first page to be opened is the drawing of jimin from the flight. the realisation slaps you.

how long would it take someone to get over the love of their life?

for you, maybe eternity.

the door creaks open slightly. your head turns sharply, hand instinctively covering the drawing.

“y/n…?”

“jimin,” you inhale, “why are you still awake?”

she doesn’t bother to answer you and instead chooses to sit on your bed. once you notice the pyjamas she’s wearing, you feel daggers stab into your heart. it’s one of your many matching pyjamas with her. you hadn’t touched any of them since you left korea.

“are you dating aeri?” she asks.

you know what she’s secretly trying to ask.

“no, she’s just a friend.”

“that’s what they always say,” jimin scoffs. her tone doesn’t sit right with you.

with a sudden urge to defend your friendship with aeri, you shoot back, “i recall you saying that about lee jeno too.”

your words clearly strike a chord in jimin, her eyes widen, hurtful remarks at the tip of her tongue. yet, she merely looks away. you hate how beautiful she looks in the moonlight.

“y’know, technically we’re still dating.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, bewildered.

jimin rolls her eyes, “we never explicitly broke up, you only ghosted me. technically we’re still together.”

“stop spouting nonsense.”

the girl only pouts in annoyance. you hate how your heartstrings tug at her cute expression. right now, yu jimin had to be anything but cute.

“and i didn’t ghost you, i was busy.” the lie slips out easily, revealing how used you are to saying it. jimin, of course, doesn’t believe you. she had never.

jimin frowns.

“you always say that too.”

she stands up, walking bit by bit closer to you. your hand grips the sketchbook protectively.

placing a hand onto the back of your chair, jimin smirks, leaning in. you hate how attractive she looks.

her now blonde locks form a curtain around your faces, preventing any outsider to peek in and see what you were doing.

“i think you’re a bad friend,” jimin claims.

“what?”

you can’t take your eyes off her fluttering eyelashes, her red nose, probably from the cold, and her eyes filled with determination.

“you lied to aeri,” she whispers, “since when were we ever just friends?”

a lump forms in your throat. your heart constricts. you can barely even say a word. you’re speechless.

“we’re barely even friends, roommates, probably,” you splutter out.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin eyes you with an amused expression, lips twitching with the threat of a big, wide smile. you realise your words bid you no help, only further supplying as a challenge for jimin— for you to admit that you were more than friends. no words needed to be exchanged about that fact, but you being you, after fulfilling years of ghosting, would never admit that you harboured any sort of feelings for jimin after being the main reason why your relationship fell apart.

you would argue that your absence was just a contributing factor. the real trigger came in the form of lee jeno, a man that you could say with your whole heart and soul, you hated with every bone in your body.

after you had left, with a promise to stay in contact with jimin, you realised how hard it was to maintain your relationship status. and when jimin posted countless instagram stories of jeno, you realised again that maybe it was best to break it off.

never in the duration of your ‘ghosting stage’ had you ever told jimin the real reason for your sudden coldness. madly jealous and insecure, you decided to disappear. disappear just from jimin though.

“i’ve always been curious,” jimin pulls back from your intense gaze, “why you started being so distant, cold and indifferent. tell me, will you?”

“that’s just my personality.” a direct white lie, you decide to tell.

“i was heartbroken,” she ignores you and continues her monolouge, “my girlfriend decides to ghost me, and just me. made me think i did something wrong.”

you lick your lips, suddenly feeling your throat constrict up. no longer was this just banter, the conversation was steering into uncharted territory.

“it wasn’t just you,” you desperately argue, trying to direct the conversation away, “moving to another country isn’t easy.”

“you’re pretending our whole relationship didn’t exist. maybe in your eyes it meant nothing, but for me, it was everything. don’t you know every single day i have nightmares? the craziest thing is that all the demons in my nightmares have your smile,” jimin whispers fiercely, “and yet, i stay faithful to those nightmares, even if i wake up crying for someone who didn’t even bother answering my calls. you may have only been in the states, but it felt like you were on another planet. i was the last person to know you were coming back, even though you promised me; promised that if you were to return, i would be the first person to—”

you can’t control yourself. hearing her words makes your blood boil. the pumping of your heart only accelerates further as you lift up your hand, delivering a heavy slap across her face. how dare she? how dare she act as if everything was your fault? how could she accuse your devotion and adoration for her?

“don’t act like you’re the fucking victim, karina,” you hiss, your words even more painful than the stinging red on jimin’s cheek, “the first morning after, i sent you so many texts, barely even seen. then i see your story. were you acting when you said you were sad about me leaving? or were you happy to finally say that you don’t have a girlfriend anymore?”

jimin cradles her cheek in her hand, eyes narrowing when you finally confess the real reason. you can tell she doesn’t remember anything. her not even knowing what she did that made you feel unneeded only drives the blade deeper into your heart.

“drinking at a club with lee jeno,” you say his name with venom, voice gradually getting louder and louder. remembering that aeri’s only a few walls away, you try to control your emotions. “could you not understand how i felt— you said nothing would come between us and the first week away from home, constantly ignoring me for some guy.”

(“call me when your plane lands,” jimin said, playing with the hem of her sweater on you.

“isn’t it gonna be midnight in korea when i land?”

the girl merely chuckles, “i’ll be up all night just to hear your voice.”)

the realisation strikes you like a lightning bolt.

“this was a mistake.”

“what?”

“this… me coming back. i should have just stayed in the states but fuck, i let aeri convince me,” you run your fingers through your tousled hair, stressed. jimin was going to cause you to have white hair.

the redness on jimin’s cheek is still there. you feel slightly guilty for ruining her clear complexion.

“that was just how i coped with you leaving,” jimin explains.

you purse your lips, placing your open palms on jimin’s chest. maybe she thinks you’re about to cave in since she sighs in relief. however, instead of pulling her in, you push her until her back is touching your door.

“i don’t need an explanation, or an apology,” you say firmly, “i need time alone away from you.”

“you’ve had 4 years to yourself,” jimin states bitterly.

“i’m sorry for slapping you, but please, either show me your actions matching your words, or just get out of my life for good.”

jimin sighs again, this one full of exasperation.

“go,” you mutter under your breath.

the knife drives deep into your already ruined heart as you push her away. the girl scoffs, grasping your open palms into her hands, intertwining your fingers.

“if you insist on pushing me away, i’ll get rid of any possibility of us being together again. just let me into your heart again,” she throws your hands away and slams the door. the loud bang echoes in your ears, but not as loudly as her words. it only takes a few seconds for you to collapse onto the floor, sobs wrecking your whole body.

“morning,” aeri yawns, “i heard a loud bang last night, was that you or is your apartment haunted?”

you drizzle maple syrup onto your stacked pancakes, sending a bittersweet smile to your friend. your night was spent tossing and turning, both guilt and anger consuming you. when the clock ticked at four in the morning, you finally let yourself think about how jimin made you feel. even if she went to drink right after you left, you should have communicated with her instead of ghosting her. you knew for a fact that she was heartbroken based on the numerous texts your friends had sent you.

fuck, you groan into your pillow. getting up from your bed, your eyes roam the room, eventually landing on the sketchbook at your desk. you never finished that drawing on the plane. after considering (or more likely procrastination), you sit down, pouring your hours and feelings into your drawings. countless of them filled up the sketchbook’s pages. the drawings’ subjects all looked eerily similar to jimin. her pointed nose, soft gaze were all captured in the pages. you finally come to terms with it. you were still in love with her. after all, she was your only muse. thinking about her words from before, you knew that she meant them. spending years waiting for someone who was basically a ghost couldn’t have been easy.

you were going to do something about it.

barely getting any sleep last night, you woke up earlier than usual and decided to prepare breakfast. aeri had woken up an hour after, stomach growling and eyes gleaming at the pancakes.

“by the way,” she says, mouth full of pancake, “i’m meeting up with a friend today and she’s bringing someone too. wanna go with me on a double date?”

fate must be messing with you since right as aeri says the words ‘double date’, yu jimin walks in. her hair tousled, puffed cheeks and eyes narrowing. you stiffen, focusing on picking at your pancakes instead. unbeknownst to you, once jimin spots the lone plate of breakfast on the counter, her gaze softens.

“do you know who your friend’s bringing…?” you whisper softly, trying not to catch the attention of jimin.

aeri, although you love her, says in the loudest voice possible, “somi will be your date! i think she’s your type.”

the scraping of the metal fork makes you squeeze your eyes shut, mentally preparing for jimin’s outburst.

“so-mi,” jimin clicks her tongue.

aeri nods, stuffing her face with more food.

she turns to you, “and you’re going on a date with her?”

“double date with me,” aeri clarifies, “don’t worry jimin-ssi, i’ll be there to protect y/n! y’know in college i always had to pick y/n up from her bad dates. her taste in guys suck.”

“seems like her taste in girls has been downgraded,” jimin comments, smirking. you roll your eyes, wanting nothing more than for her to shut up. aeri guffaws, taking out her phone. “i’ll show you somi’s instagram account and you can decide for yourself, y/n,” she says.

you nod, deciding not to say anything in case jimin flares up. somi’s very pretty, anyone would agree. she had her own attractive style and seemed really confident. you liked that. aeri wasn’t wrong to say that somi was your type. it was just unfortunate that your heart was in the hands of another girl.

while scrolling on aeri’s phone, her alarm rings, reading, ‘brunch with yunny.’

“ah! yunjin wanted to meet earlier, just the two of us,” aeri smiles, “text me later if you wanna join!” she stands up from the table. you’re astonished by how fast she managed to finish those pancakes, her stack was evidently taller than yours. jimin glances at you, amazed as well.

“did she inhale those…?”

“i’ve got no fucking clue,” you mumble, digging into your own. jimin only chuckles and you hate how it makes your heart clench up in affection.

the silence is deafening. without aeri, the air thickens with tension between you and jimin, filled with nostalgia and regret. it feels just like last time— you and jimin eating breakfast together at that very same table, giggling about whatever trouble your friends got into the previous day.

“hey, about yesterday—”

“it’s fine,” you interrupt, “is your cheek okay?”

jimin swallows hard, “yes, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“don’t lie, come here,” you instruct, “i’ve known you for so long, you can’t lie to me.”

she just laughs, showing you the slightly bruised side of her face. you feel guilt wreck you. no matter how angry you were, you shouldn’t have laid a hand on her.

“did you ice it?”

jimin shakes her head. you sigh, getting up and taking an ice pack out of the freezer. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, moving around the kitchen like it was 2018 and jimin was the love of your life (she still is). wrapping the ice pack in a towel, you inch closer to jimin, holding it to her cheek. she winces slightly and you resist the urge to hold her hand in comfort.

“y/n…”

“hm?”

the girl seems so small now— her posture deflated, eyes barely meeting yours, biting her lip nervously. you have a feeling you know what she’s about to ask.

“are you going on that date with soyoung?” you laugh loudly, catching jimin off guard.

“jimin, her name’s somi.”

pouting, jimin turns away from you, making your hand falter. “hey, i need to ice your face.”

“i won’t let you unless you answer my question.” she’s so childish it’s adorable. the tension has gone, now filled with uncertainty instead.

“i don’t have anyone to spend the afternoon with. minjeong and yizhuo are busy today,” you explain.

“you have me,” she mutters.

ignoring her, you answer, “aeri seemed really excited for us to meet.”

“you spent all your time in the states with her, you should spend time with your friends here,” jimin retorts.

her hesitance to even admit she wants to spend time with you makes you want to tease her.

“oh? you’re right,” jimin perks up like a puppy. cute, you think. “i should text yujin if she wants to go out, remember her? she was our student council president.”

rolling her eyes, jimin swats at your hand nursing her bruise. it’s too easy for you to return to past habits, bantering with jimin like she was the only girl you’ve ever loved (she was).

it’s too easy. between the choice of going out with aeri to meet someone new and staying in with jimin. it’s such an easy choice to make.

you bring the ice pack away from her face, choosing to caress her cheek lovingly instead. she sighs, content, leaning into your touch.

“jimin,” you gulp, “i’m sorry for these past few years.”

her eyes gaze up at you, “it’s okay. i’ve come to terms with it. i honestly wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

“i wasn’t planning to either, but aeri wanted to.”

“good thing she convinced you, huh?” jimin smiles, “at least i know i was the reason for our break up.”

“it’s only a relationship if there are two people,” you say, “it was my fault too.”

her eyes momentarily flicker to your lips, it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“i know these years haven’t been easy on both of us, but if you’re willing to, i think i’m okay with giving us a second chance,” you confess, “even if you hurt me again, i still want you. i just want you. you’ve always been the only one in here.” you point at your heart.

jimin’s eyes shoot straight up, finally breaking into a wide smile, “seriously? even after what i said last night? i’m not complaining but like… you were pretty angry. i just wanted to know why you ghosted me and i agree, i deserved it. but why the sudden change?”

“i mean,” you shrug, “it was what you said that made me think about this. i didn’t want you to stop loving me, because i’ve never stopped loving you.”

“you love me?”

“i love you.”

“this is so crazy, you went from slapping me to…” she trails off, grasping your chin and bringing you into a kiss. her lips were so, so, soft. you wondered why you even let her go. once your lips met, you felt her sigh before smiling into your mouth. catching your breath, you run your fingers through her blonde hair.

“still going on that date with suki?”

“jimin, you know her name’s somi.”

“whatever, i love you too.”

[phosphostar]

Could you make hc for the mouthwashing crew (minus Jdiddy) if they had actually been saved and made it back to earth after the crash? Like what life would be like for them? PLS PLS I JUST WANT A HAPPY ENDING FOR THM😭

LMFAO OF COURSE I CAN!!!!!!

return velocity

what if the crew (anya, daisuke, curly, swansea) made it back after the events of mouthwashing..?

cw: uhhh none really? except for what’s under the cut! tell me if i missed anything <3

𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞

oh my sweet summer boy.

he made it out with uhm

let’s just say a whole bunch of scars

his mom, was obviously worried. horrified. her baby.. hurt?? because of her? her heart is broken

but daisuke’s like “nono it’s okay!! i got a cool scar to show off to the ladies!!”

she just facepalms

i also hc daisuke never really learned how to drive. was too worried about partying. so swansea had to drive him and anya to their respective houses (i’ll get to why curly wasn’t there in a moment)

his parents meet anya and swansea

they are so happy they met swansea. this man taught our son? he’s gonna do great.

until daisuke goes back to yapping about video games. yeah so great.

they heavily thank anya though, for helping with saving daisuke after climbing into the vent. without her, he would’ve certainly died

basically daisuke finds his purpose (keeping cool in situations and dedicating his life to his friends)

𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐚

my poor baby anya

so we all know she struggled getting into medical school prior to the events in mouthwashing

in my mind daisuke’s parents helped pay for her medical school due to her basically saving his life

she goes to medical school, gets her necessary digress, and works in healthcare!!

ABORTS THE BABY.

SHE DOES NOT KEEP THE BABY.

becomes curly and swansea’s primary healthcare worker because she knew them best

really into gardening! helps take her mind off the ptsd of everything that happened

got a restraining order against j-diddy

gets a kitty named towellet. she loves the thing.

𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐚

oh my swansea. no one loves you the way i do.

obviously is so happy to see his wife

and his kids!! can’t forget about them

they’d be worried sick, obviously hearing about the news of the tulpar

he reassures them that he’s safe (obviously), and he’ll be able to retire!!

his wife is obviously excited

i hc his wife is already retired and his kids already have kids

peepaw swansea for the win <33

i also hc he adopted an old bulldog.

they watch soap operas together all day and snore on the couch super loudly

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐥𝐲

…

surprisingly didn’t die??

also he wasn’t in swansea’s car because uhm.. he was airlifted to the hospital

his recovery is difficult, obviously

he has moments he’s not sure he’ll make it out alive, and wonders if he should even still be breathing

obviously loves when swansea, daisuke, and anya visit. he literally loves it

he was given a multitude of surgeries, including skin graphs from donors, so some parts have darker hair than others, he thinks it’s cool.

daisuke was also a good match for blood i hc!! anya, daisuke, and swansea now regularly donate blood and plasma <3

i hc curly got an emotion support/guide dog names ratchet

sweetest baby around and curly adores him

he has prosthetics for his limbs, and used to completely cover them, a mask on his face and his hood up to complete the look

now he’s more confident in himself, and will happily go without a mask and basketball shorts!!

he has a voice box, but is still getting used to it!

daisuke bleached all his hair and cut it off for curly to make him a wig

he dosent wear it much, but he keeps it in a safe space

he wears a much more comfortable hair system

daisuke made his out of love, not practicality

𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞

company goes belly up.

curly and everyone sues him. even j-diddy.

they all win

what more can i say

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥

they all still love hanging out, the 4 of them

goes to anya’s graduation

daisuke constantly draws for all of them

swansea fosters kittens

anya loves to bake treats for all of them

curly loves to spin his shoulder around to cause his prosthetic to spin in a complete circle

…

i’m so sorry

𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐲

well.

woah.

he had a hefty trial.

obviously found guilty

got beat up in prison

was released on good behavior 🖕

i don’t think anya ever truly forgave him, or anyone for that matter.

which like good?

but he does visit curly sometimes at his hospital room

and sends the whole crew birthday/holliday cards

(only sends them to anya after his restraining order is done)

got a pitbull named mikey. loves his baby

he’s trying to turn his life around

he’s definitely still not sane

has been admitted to a mental institution involuntarily a few times

is on heavy medication to regulate his mood

got a sleeve tattoo of stars representing the crew (with their permission). i think he has a full sleeve

(thank you @/curly-my-beloved for that idea!!)

definitely got some of daisuke’s doodles tatted on him

a few important dates

he’s trying to be better

still an ass tho

i still don’t like him

[richardsgraysons]

touches

prompt — all the ways jason todd touches you / jason todd x reader

tags — some nsfw

A STORMY SEA AT BAY;

his fingers are harsh, and you wince when he grips at you like. that.he doesn't mean to hurt you, by god, no. he doesn't ever want to see you flinch. and as soon as you do, he stumbles back.

you realize what's happened. he's going to hate himself now. "jason, no—" you call out, reaching for him, but he stumbles back and runs into the darkness of the night where it'll shroud him. and in that night, he basks in his anger and self-loathing for a while before the boy in blue comes to calm him down. you sometimes wish you could, but he'd be too ashamed.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles when he's back in your arms. he holds you, tight, but not like when he was angry. there is a silver tear dancing on the edge of his eye but he never lets it drop. "i didn't mean to." and you know he doesn't so you hug him back and don't say a word.

EUPHORIA IN A SKY OF STARS;

he grips your thighs as tight as possible, and his face is buried between the valley of your thighs. he's letting out sighs of pleasure through quiet muffles as the only thing you can hear is the sound of your own whimpers and his comments—"fuck, pretty girl, you look so fuckin' good right now. give me another one, yeah?"

your thighs are shaking and you cannot even think properly, not when his eyes are hazy and he looks up at you like that. his fingers are digging so deep into your flesh that they draw out bruises, his tongue swirling around, and occasionally his teeth graze over your inner thighs. you forget that his helmet is to the side, that you're on a rooftop and anyone can appear in seconds and see you two like this. "best fuckin' thing i've tasted in my entire life," he croons, as he shoves two fingers in you.

SLEEPING IN AT SUNRISE;

his touches are gentle, soft. your hands run over the bruises he's collected from last night, and the blood that's dried on his hair or his head or back from last night's patrol and you worry about him. your fingers cup his jaw and you plant delicate butterfly kisses over his face in worry. "i worry about you, jay," you say when he whines at the touch but you know he adores it.

"i'm alive in one piece, aren't i?" he muffles as he flips over to the side so his back faces you. you pout and he knows you're pouting. he flips right back in a flash and he grabs you by the neck and pulls you close before pressing a kiss on your forehead and pushing. yourhead so it lies in the crook of his neck.

"i'm never leaving you," he murmurs, his eyes hooded and lazy. "it's gonna take everything in this universe and more for me to ever even think about not making it back to you." and those are just words, you know, but words have a lot of meaning.

I THINK ABOUT YOU EVEN IF I DON'T KNOW IT;

"so that's what i said to him that other day!" that blonde girl laughs, brushing her arm against jason. jason just nods at her, doesn't even mean to say anything ot her and just keeps his blank face. you've been scowling at her for the past five minutes, and for the past four minutes, she's pretended like you don't exist.

jason looks down at where she's touched him and then shrugs. "i have to go get a drink," he says blankly, his face neutral. the both of you turn around in near perfect sync and start walking down together. jason grits his teeth in anger, thinking about something else (maybe how that blonde girl has been treating you), and takes your hand and squeezes it. he squeezes it so hard it hurts a bit.

"jason," you wince, looking at your red hand. it's cutting off blood. he looks down at your hand in surprise and then his eyes widen for a few seconds before letting it go.

"i'm so sorry, i didn't know i was holding your hand, and with that grip—" you shush him peacefully.

RED IS JASON TODD'S COLOR

"fuck," jason snarls as he pushes you against the wall. there's something in his eyes. jealousy. red is always jason's best color to wear, you've known that for sure. his hand wraps around your throat and he kisses you hard.

"you liked making me jealous, didn't you?" he challenges, raising an eyebrow. there's a glimmer in his eyes as his lips bite down on your neck so hard that there's a faint sliver of blood. you let out a yelp. "seeing me all riled up for a guy whose cock is probably the tiniest fuckin' thing you've ever seen. tell me, did you like me jealous of a guy who can't even please you the way you know i can?"

you open your mouth to answer, but he clamps his hand. over before ou can speak. "don't even fucking answer," he snarls, before ripping your jeans off from your body. you didn't even know anybody could do that. "i'm about to teach you what the right answer is."