#How to Die Young in Manila

[benkaben]

Does anyone know where to watch Some Nights I Feel Like Walking (2024)? I've been foaming at the mouth about that one ever since the first trailer dropped but I can't find it anywhere and I'm getting desperate dhbfjsdfjsd.

[mygnolia]

LOVE ON A FRESH SLATE ༄ TEASER

༄ SYNOPSIS -› Sim Jaeyun might not have many critically acclaimed films in his IMBD, but if there’s something to change that, it’s his upcoming film, ‘diving in love,’ a fresh summer romance that’s caught the attention of everyone on the internet. The only problem is, no one believes the chemistry will be up to rom-com standards. Maybe he’ll save his career by fake dating his cold-hearted co-star, aka you, to sell it?

༄ PAIR -› actor!sim jaeyun x fem actress!reader

༄ GENRE -› fluff, banter, angst, comfort ༄ TROPES -› enemies to lovers, heavy on the fake dating (i LOVE fake dating) ༄ WC -› estimated 15-20k idk lolz

༄ INCLUDES -› will be added!

༄ RELEASE DATE -› november!

༄ REN SAYS... me when summer also haha get it slate cuz they're actors but also it's e2l so misunderstandings heheheh am i funny (im not) | LIBRARY

join the taglist for this fic!

“You’re going to tell me you signed me up for the cult of Scientology, I assume,” You introduce yourself, shaking hands with the man next to Sunoo. 

Once again, there is just one empty seat before Jake Sim walks in, out of breath. “Jungwon, please don’t tell me–” He notices you after he barges in, taking in your poised manner as you wait for him to continue. But he doesn’t. The words die on his tongue when he sees you and the same manager from last week's meeting. 

“Please don’t tell me what?” Jungwon asks, raising an eyebrow as Jake sinks into the only chair left. The latter shakes his head, not wanting to elaborate any further. 

Sunoo sits up, putting his hands together after he finishes the last sip of his drink. “Open up the files, ____.” He motions to the manila folder on the table, and with much confusion, you peel back the cover to find a neat stack of black and white articles. 

Jungwon, who you can only assume is Jake’s manager, gets Jake to lean in and read what’s on the pages. “This,” he starts, spreading out the rest of the articles, “is every article in the past week with a negative outlook on whether or not the film will be up to par with the standards of the 2000’s.”

You scoff, eyes trailing over an article with your face as the cover. “Really? People hate me that much?” Your dry humor really only resonates with Sunoo, who sends you a look before trying to organize the flurry of papers.

“I doubt they’ll keep going,” Jake tries, fidgeting with his ring. Maybe his second rich person problem was figuring out how to get the media to like him again if the movie turns into a failure and he has to scour for another source of income. 

“Unless I solve world hunger, I doubt the media will turn away from the wine scandal any time soon.” Jake considers dropping out and cutting his losses early with the way you comment on your impending future. 

Jake’s manager shakes his head, closing the manila folder and essentially blocking it out before coming up with the worst possible plan in existence. 

“You two can fake date. Then, no one will question your chemistry, because they’ll think you’re in love.” 

There were only so many things you refused to do in your lifetime, but fake dating your co-star made it to the top of your list in record time. 

You shook your head. “Absolutely not.” At least Jake could agree with one thing you said. 

The silence almost turns awkward before Sunoo speaks up in agreement, ignoring you. “I like it, it’ll give them a chance to pretend to bond more. Plus, they’re both young and attractive, and Jake is a change of pace from all of her shitty ex-boyfriends.” If Jake still wanted to jump off a building after hearing their proposition, you’d unknowingly want to join him. 

You cough in your arm, hiding the embarrassment of his last comment before nodding to look at the actor. “You think just because I’m dating someone, it’ll make the movie more watchable?” 

Sunoo rolls his eyes. “I’d much rather watch a rom-com if it was confirmed that the actors found love on set. It’s a good story.” 

Jungwon interjects. “Good publicity.” 

The actor beside you finally speaks up. “And you want to start this arrangement…when?” 

“As soon as possible,” your manager answers, and his response might be some of the worst news you’ve heard in a while. “Hear me out, ‘____ ____ and Jake Sim falling in love the moment they’re casted. It’s fate. They’ve been in love since the beginning. I have to see it, their chemistry will be so good.’ ”

Before you nor Jake are able to come up with a rebuttal, Jungwon adds, “I know both of you can act, and even despite this fake relationship, the movie will be good. But if you can get away from the negative thoughts surrounding the film’s pre-release, it’ll generate so much more hype around it.” 

“Better for your conscience, ____. You don’t need angry Sunghoon fans sending you anymore death threats.” If Sunoo kept airing out your problems like that, you’d drag him out by the ear without any fake boyfriend in tow.

You really think about it, questioning if one PR stunt could get you out of the nepo baby ditch you’ve been trying to fight for years; it wasn’t even that you were bad at your job, your mother just never had anything nice to say to anyone. If anything, she was Hollywood’s actual mean girl.

“Fine.” You agree begrudgingly. 

Jake on the other hand has no idea what he’s getting out of this. How does fake-dating a girl he’s never liked help his reputation at all?

Maybe it’s because he couldn’t find an answer to it, or maybe Jake was comfortable enough asking something so brash in public. “What the hell do I get out of it?” 

You lean back in surprise, not used to hearing him so flustered by something. It was all your fault, Jake thinks as he once again pulls at his hair. 

The room is silent as everyone’s gears turn. Jake puts his hands on both sides of the armchair, about to get up and pretend this failure of a ruse ever existed. “If there’s nothing, I’m-”

“Wait,” you cut him off, eyes still fixed on something as you think. It’s good for you, and mainly you. Jake has a good reputation, people love natural chemistry and love a cute couple even more, and your name would be in summer-y titles for the next two months if your scheme worked out. But him? 

What could Jake Sim possibly want? 

“You want money? Connections? An interview with Justin Beiber?” You try, spewing what every boy would want when they were 13. 

Somehow, his head perks up when he hears his favorite celebrity’s name from your lips. 

“You could do that?” He asks, bewildered. 

“I thought you hated me for having a famous mom.” He stays silent. 

“Look, you’re up and coming. If this movie does well, I’ll send a letter to the top producers in the industry and tell them about how stunning of a performance you gave.” 

It’s a deal that’s extremely hard to pass on–hell, he’s literally getting paid to act in the movie anyways, so it’s not like he loses much if he says yes. But you’re snarky, and although you’re not outright rude, you never seem to be excited for anything, and Jake has no idea why the mood is so sour when he’s with you.

Whatever, it’s not like it’s real, anyways.  

Jake shrugs and pinches his nose bridge momentarily before sighing. “Where do I sign?” 

You thought that Jake had been oblivious to the whole thing as much as you were, but it seems like he knew about a hidden contract. Jungwon fishes out a crisp white sheet of paper from his bag. “You know me so well, and I didn’t even tell you anything,” and his response has you thinking that maybe the actor just knows his manager well. 

Suddenly, the next year of your love life is signed and tucked away into two identical copies for Jungwon and Sunoo, before the two shake hands and smile. “I’m excited for how things will go,” your manager comments before you two leave. 

The moment the door shuts behind you, you let out a long exhale, suddenly finding interest in your manicure. 

“You’re annoying, Sunoo. But I don’t doubt you.” 

The boy smiles and links arms with you, walking to the entrance of the studio building before you both catch wind of the paparazzi. 

A swarm of reporters and cameras catch your casual outfit and sunglasses when you emerge with your manager behind you. Questions bombard you, and you hear amongst the commotion a few reporters who are desperate for their next article to feature you. ‘Is it true that you’ve hated Sunghoon for years?’ ‘What do you have to say about your new film?’ ‘Do you have anything to say about Jake Sim?’ 

You pause momentarily on the way to your car, reconsidering if you should answer any question. “Me and Sunghoon have never had a disagreement, and I know he appreciated the Prada we sent him a few weeks ago.” Smiling at the memory, you choose to answer a few more questions before you have to go. “As for the new film? I’m fairly excited. Me and my boyfriend are more than ready to be filmed together." 

The gasps from the crowd leave you content as you slip into your car with Sunoo. “But don’t tell anyone I’m dating!” You yell out for good measure, knowing that by morning, everything will have changed.

also join my permanent taglist for more fics/teasers!

[makviles]

What's your personal take on Sanzu's reason to murder Mucho? I am curious since you are one of the few people I see making content of them. Love your art ❤

Thank you for enjoying my art!

About the question, not gonna lie, I have a tinfoil hat theory which requires people to read the complete manga, so that I will explain under the cut to avoid spoiling anyone.

First of all, I do not believe Sanzu followed Mucho to Tenjiku as a spy or to punish him later when the time fits best. In fact, I believe he did that for his own agenda, aka, he also bet Tenjiku would win and push Mikey on a criminal path. (Gambling motive, possibly since Sanzu is quite good at it)

The few evidence we might use as a clue that Sanzu doesn’t go on the “Toman’s traitor must die” spiel are, first, Kisaki and Baji. Baji never confided his plan to anyone, betrayed Toman, and Sanzu didn’t hold a grudge against him, if one read the little stories shown in the character books. Then also Kisaki never got the boot from him either, despite his shady tricks, and was finally banned from Toman.

Of course, one could say he never got the opportunity to commit murder, so he didn’t risk it. But that argument gets negated because, in most cases, Tenjiku would have won if Takemitchy had never been counted as a variable. So why pull such a big risk in following Mucho to begin with?

The Manila timeline happened, Tenjiku won, and Izana took control of Mikey. Sanzu would have been completely stupid to murder Mucho in that timeline with Tenjiku in power.

None of the heavenly generals liked Sanzu, cough, Kakucho, aka the rest would follow his opinion, so my fair assumption is that Mucho only got murdered when Tenjiku lost.

Mucho is alive in most bad timelines, the bad Toman with Kisaki in power, and likely also in Manila with Izana in power. Sanzu potentially stood in the background in these timelines because he had no reason to help Mikey stay on that path since there were other assholes to do that.

We find out Sanzu’s motive on why he pushes Mikey on that criminal path in the last arc. Something, something, dark curse, don’t stop the evil. Otherwise, bad shit happens to everyone. He is pretty convinced of that, considering he remembers an alternate version of himself, thanks to good old Shinichiro, who for some reason gave him the great advice of “lmao, don’t talk about it to anyone, people think it’s crazy”, while Shin still spilled the beans to Wakasa- Getting off, track, but my point is, Sanzu is entirely convinced he is on a life mission and very traumatised on what could happen. And mind you, he was a child, so that’s extra confusing and scary for someone so young.

Sanzu isn’t really listening to Mikey’s words, but what he thinks he needs to do for him. He isn’t loyal to Mikey in actuality, he is loyal to the promise to keep him alive. He killed Mucho, despite Mikey forgiving him.

And Mucho, with Tenjiku losing, is now a stone on his path. Why? Mucho has shown he is the antithesis of what Sanzu believes, while being a hypocrite himself, in his loyalty to Izana, because he knows life is miserable, never to think of oneself.

Sanzu was given choices, given the opportunity to not be shackled by the promise that haunts him, but guilt is a hell of a drug. And honestly, Mucho fucked up by following Izana, while he tried to preach to Sanzu, that it’s okay to be selfish since he fell victim to the same problems Sanzu has. This could have broken the hope, possibly that there is another choice.

With Kakucho stopping Mucho from going further down, and him realising what he believed was wrong, further cemented in Sanzu, their paths won’t align in the future.

Mucho likely will call it quits from being a criminal to not be a further embarrassment, and that’s a betrayal to Sanzu personally.

“Because how dare you make me attached to you, and talk about respecting my own choices and not staying by my side.” probably his disturbed and dependant logic

Mucho is a source that made him second-guess his goals, a distraction and a weakness because we see a lot of details that Sanzu did care about him in the character book.

He had to murder him in his twisted logic, so Sanzu could push himself as number two in Bonten to keep whatever job Kisaki or Izana did in other timelines, throwing away his own future.

Even when Kakucho confronted him if Mucho was just another noise that needed to be killed, Sanzu didn’t entertain him with a mocking answer or an answer at all in comparison to how he bragged on wanting to get rid of the rest of Toman members. That was a personal motive that applied to him.

Mucho is a traitor towards the end goal, creating a criminal organisation that will keep Mikey “alive” and a traitor for daring to think they could walk their own path.

Sorry for the novel, but I hope it makes sense…

[open-hangar]

Open Hangar Episode 0 - Prologue

Intermingling within the cytoplasm of every living cell, there exists the substance that determines the rate at which cells mature, age, and die. For most of mankind’s history, the systems through which this happened was a mystery, unknown and within the realms of mythology. It wasn’t until a laboratory in Singapore discovered this substance and named it: Charged Ionic Nucleotides. The lab’s PR team gave it the much catchier and trademarkable name Chargon.

At first, the world gave it little thought, just considering it another mildly interesting fact taught in middle school. But then, the Indian government made the world-changing discovery of C.I.N. Extraction, in which the chargon within a living cell could be removed with minimal damage to the cellular structure using reversed ion compulsion.

They had removed that which caused the cell to age.

On top of this, the free chargon was an incredible source of energy, many times more efficient than nuclear fission. A single banyan tree could power a major Indian metropolis for well over a year, and with proper care, that same tree would stand for many more years to come. This ground-breaking discovery was freely spread around the world to any nation who had the resources to take advantage of it, ending the energy crisis for 90% of the world in only 2 years and halting the rise of global climate change almost immediately. And for the less-developed nations of the world, the Indian government created the CINE-Daan Project, in which they would stockpile free chargon and chargon extractors within vast catacombs underneath the Himalayan peaks bordering India and China to lease out to nations in Oceania, Africa, and South America. The world was not yet a utopia, but the finish line was in sight.

Until the stockpile, along with most of the Himalayas, went up in cataclysmic flames.

Nobody knows who had done it or why, as anyone involved joined the billions of Indian, Tibetan, Nepalese, and Chinese civilians who were eradicated in a single moment. The best anyone can guess in retrospect is that something had caused the energy in the free chargon to cascade into itself, igniting the energy all in one massive burst. Those who claimed to have seen it and lived long enough to tell anyone else about it said that it looked like a massive, multi-colored flower erupting out of the ground, its petals spreading across the sky. This was the free chargon dispersing into the atmosphere, blanketing the planet and infecting all living beings.

The death of billions in the two most populous countries on Earth sent immediate ripples throughout all of mankind, the world’s collective grief blinding them to the effects of the free chargon in the air. It was Asia who was hit first and hardest, obviously, but Eastern Europe and the Middle East quickly felt it, too. The closer one lived to the blast site, the faster one aged and the faster the wildlife evolved. A newborn in Beijing taking her first steps before the family had finished celebrating the new life, young men in Manila developing rheumatoid arthritis overnight, a town in Laos becoming blanketed in a never-before-seen poisonous lichen.

The entire world had become one giant existential nightmare.

The wealthy, the learned, and the world leaders among the world’s population immediately fled to Brazil once they understood what was happening, hoping that a close antipode of the blast site would give them the most time to determine a solution. One scientist had an idea, and it was the only one considered: use a variation of the CIN Extraction to draw in the free chargon from the air, place it in a suitable vessel, and launch it into space. “How long would it take before the chargon levels returned to normal?” an investor asked. “By my estimates, if hundreds of facilities are built around the world and work in tandem while being run by a skeleton crew of volunteers” the same scientist responded, “at least a couple of centuries.”

The room reportedly erupted in fervor, people with no ideas asking for a better one. The requests went unanswered. “Then it’s clear. We need to leave Earth behind while it’s cleaning up.”

This meeting marked the beginning of the first year of the ADA (After the Day of Abandonment) calendar, in which 80% of the Earth’s population escaped into the stars, abandoning those below to live and die in squalor in the shadows of the Launch Base Zones, massive automated and semi-automated city-sized complexes which slowly absorbed the residual free chargon in the air, compress it, used giant bipedal vehicles known as Lanzers to load it onto pre-programmed rockets, and launch them into space to be collected and stored. Properly, this time, or at least it is understood so.

It’s been about 100 years since then. The free chargon in the Earth’s atmosphere is now estimated to cause all living things to mature and age at a rate about 96% faster than they did before the Himalayan Impact, down 1% since last year. Meanwhile, the Lunarians that had chosen to colonize the Earth’s moon became deathly afraid of Chargon, regularly purging it from their bodies to extend their life, usually around double the length before the Impact.

Some look up to the violet night sky in envy, while others look up in righteous fury, and yet more do their best to not think of the lights on the moon at all. All those who look down on their poison home planet, do so in pity.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

In a Heartbeat - Chapter 48 - Part 2

*Warning - Adult Content*

Vince

Micheal shook his head, still in disbelief before returning to peruse the bookshelves.

"It's strange, isn't it?"

Michael frowned, picking up our parent's photo on the shelf.

"Nobody found out who killed him. Father."

"Probably a rogue."

He hummed, as he strolled around the council room.

"Probably but there's a strange hiccup about that theory."

"What would that be?"

I watched him as he picked up another family photo, one with everyone in it.

It was when we were younger before David ever was Michael's mate.

We looked happier, not a total mess a few years after this photo was taken.

"Notice anything strange?"

He pointed at the picture, his finger pointing at the arm draped around Xavier's shoulder.

"Father never took that ring off."

I looked at the photo closely, until I saw that familiar red gem on his finger.

"His wedding ring? What about it?"

"I looked at the reports," he tapped the manila folders.

"It wasn't on him when they found him."

"So, what are you saying? That..."

"That, whoever killed him, must have his ring," he finished.

I had noted it as well when we first looked at the evidence.

At the time it didn't seem like a red flag, considering my parents would fight all the time and with how he ended up, I assumed it was possible it had gotten lost in the struggle.

"Don't you find that strange though? What would a rogue want with a wedding ring?"

"Money?"

"Unlikely," he replied.

"It couldn't have been worth much. Not to warrant death or war over. No, I think this was personal."

"Father had a lot of enemies," I frowned.

"It could be anybody."

He smirked, before gesturing to the stack of papers I had yet to complete.

"Why do you think I asked you to compile that list and screen them?"

"For all we know, they could've died already."

He shrugged.

"True but somebody's got to know something. You wouldn't just kill someone that powerful and not boast about it."

"Why now though?"

I tilted my head, still eyeing him warily.

We hadn't been this civil in years.

"Dad's case has been cold for years. Even if we managed to find his killer, what would that do?"

"Well for starters," he dragged on, pushing the happy family photo closer to my hand.

"It would make mom happy to know we've caught them, that she could die knowing there was justice for the old man."

"They fought in the end, you know?"

I frowned looking at the photo.

Mom hadn't been that happy in a long time.

"That doesn't mean she didn't love him."

For sure, there were times they'd kiss in front of us, father latching onto her neck but I wasn't sure if you could call that love.

They rarely held hands, mom had even pushed him away when he got too pushy.

Other times, she'd argue and father would grip her arm just too harshly.

Looking back on it, I wondered if she ever really did feel connected to him, given they never had that bond in the first place but she must've cared somewhat after all we had to confirm the body.

After all, she had lost Michael when he got kicked out and Xavier was still young.

She had to look after both of us on her own while her mind and wolf started to shut down.

"I'd think it would ease your worries as well," Michael continued.

"George and the rest of those old-timers won't stop accusing Simon, no matter what you or I say. We find whoever owns the ring and we can still turn things around. Have them punished and we could finally get George to shut his stupid mouth."

I scoffed at that.

Getting George to shut up was like trying to silence an aggressive chihuahua.

"And if this killer is a pack member?"

"Well, then they'd have three angry sons, the council and a reckoning to watch out for."

I glanced back at the photo, wondering if this would make us happy again.

Knowing who had started this mess had been dealt with.

It wouldn't bring him back, wouldn't undo the damage he or any of us had caused but I guess this was a piece of the puzzle Simon had eluded too.

The missing piece that would help paint the picture that would prove for once and all that it hadn't been Simon's father.

The closure we all needed.

I looked up at Michael.

"So, where do we begin?"

"I'll investigate our members, in the meantime, finish that stack."

He grabbed father's case file, before jeering at the stack.

"I'll look into the file and evidence but my money's on a rogue father who he made enemies with."

I hummed.

I didn't trust Michael one bit when it came to a lot of things but this would at least keep him away from Simon or at least George away from Simon and when this was all over, I could focus strictly on the letter without having to worry about George's stupid arse coming after him again.

Especially after the latest string of nightmares, keeping Simon away from Michael had been a top priority.

No matter what Simon thought, there was no way I would willingly leave the two together, especially when I had no clue what Michael had up his sleeve.

Luckily Simon and Xavier had come into the council room, putting an end to the unusually friendly conversation between Michael.

"Simon," Michael greeted.

"Nice to see you, dear but I must be going now. Xavier."

"Oh," Simon looked back and forth incredulously between us as Michael headed towards the door.

He ruffled Xavier's hair before stepping out.

Xavier smoothed it back disgruntledly.

I slid the trashed letters under the folders as the two stepped closer. Simon said softly...

"Are you getting along now?"

"Not really," I responded, watching Xavier warily.

He didn't seem as upset as the other day in the hospital but I could tell he was trying to avoid looking at me directly.

"I still don't trust him."

Simon made a face.

"Let's not argue about that again."

I nodded, before glancing between the two of them.

"What brings you two here?"

[maggiecheungs]

Stills from Some Nights I Feel Like Walking (dir. Petersen Vargas, 2022)

[save-the-data]

how to die young in manila | short film

I’ll be covering Gameboys 2 in August. Gameboys the movie is also now available on GagaOOLala to watch. 

[kamwashere]

HOW TO DIE YOUNG IN MANILA (2020)

Dir. Peterson Vargas

A teenage boy trails a group of hustlers in the streets, thinking one of them may be his anonymous hook-up for the night. One by one, the young men inexplicably turn up as dead bodies.

Starring: Elijah Canlas, Kokoy de Santos

Watch the short clip here

[kop-khun-krub]

[gilbirda]

Deal

Based on a tumblr post!

Now with sequel! -> The After

NOW WITH ART! AMAZING SHORT COMIC BY PAPS

One day, a woman hires Jason to kill an unusual amount of people. The more he looks at the case, the more he is convinced he has to accept.

"I want them gone." She had said with a straight face. "All of them have to die."

---

notes:

This is set after the events of Lost Days and before he goes to Gotham to do Under the Red Hood stuff. I'm playing with timeline like a kid with building blocks. Any needed context is added in the story.

I know Dick killed the Joker because of Jason's death. I KNOW. But Jason here doesn't know. Don't come at me in the replies.

There is no ship content per say, but is hinted in the future.

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF]

---

Jason looked up from the closed manila folder and glanced at the quiet figure of his new potential employer.

Caitlyn Williams.

It was a fake name, he suspected. If the black wig wasn't enough of a clue about the fishiness of the situation, the way she omitted parts of her explanation, redirected his questions or provided just the basic information he would need for the hit was another big red flag.

Jason could work with this. It wasn't as if he had the moral high ground here - he was living with a fake identity given that Jason Todd was dead and theoretically buried six feet under. Not even Bruce knew he was alive, but he had plans to remedy that.

In the meantime, he was trying to get some extra money since wouldn’t have Talia’s wealth forever and he had to eventually leave the nest, so to speak; and until he had a stable income he had to do small hit jobs like this one.

What this woman wanted wasn't small, though.

"I want them gone." She had said with a straight face. "All of them have to die."

That was a lot of rage in so few words.

She didn’t dwell with pleasantries, she didn’t smile once he sat down in front of her in the Diner they chose for this meeting, she didn’t make small conversation. She just nodded at him and slid a folder over the table to him and said those words before explaining what she wanted, exactly.

Jason didn’t open the folder just yet. He watched her as she sipped on her tea, her eyes fixed on the window of the diner, deceptively calm and distracted. She was watching him as much as he was watching her.

He respected that.

She continued sipping her tea as he opened the folder to take a look at the information inside. Names, locations, details about security and notes about how to bypass them - she had done all the homework for him.

“It’s a lot of targets,” he commented, eyes going over the lists and profiles. Scientists, doctors, a few government officials. It wouldn’t be easy. “It will cost ya.”

“I’ll worry about the money, you just have to kill them.” Caitlyn placed the empty cup on the table. Her hands were steady, too steady.

“What’s the story?”

Her lips twitched. The first show of real emotion since he sat down in front of her.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t ask questions.”

Touchy subject, then. “And I don’t.” He chose to let it go. For now. “When do you need this done?”

“You can take your time,” she interlaced her fingers over the table, “ponder over how and when you want to do this.” She looked up at him. Jason had never seen eyes so cold, so furious, and so devoid of any other emotion but rage - at least not on any other person than himself. “I don’t mind waiting if it means they all end up dead.”

It was personal, very personal. She didn’t want to kill a business rival, or an ex-employer, or wanted to eliminate a threat. She wanted revenge.

What could have happened to make someone hire him to kill so many people? She was young, too. Probably eighteen, twenty at most, even though she tried to mask her age under makeup, nice clothes and high heels.

Caitlyn had been royally screwed over by the people in this list, that was clear. Enough to make her hire someone like him.

Alright. He would do this.

Jason flipped more pages just for show despite having decided he would do this hit, and maybe give her a discount too; he was a sucker for petty revenge, after all.

She quietly sucked in a breath when the last section of her thorough report was revealed.

Doctors Jackson and Madeline Fenton.

He glanced up, but her face was again a mask of contained fury and faked indifference. Jason shrugged, knowing he wouldn’t get anything from her, and read the information on the paper.

Lead scientist in the GIW, made a career studying creatures from another dimension, made a big breakthrough a few years ago about those creatures and had received this and that award.

The information in this section was extensive, with more notes about their behavioral patterns, a cataloged report on every little detail despite not needing that much information for a hit.

“Those two,” the young woman said, one finger with bitten off nails pointing at the photo of the scientists on top of the report, “I want them to suffer.”

If eyes were the windows to the soul, Jason would have guessed her soul was dark, cold and filled with a desire to kill so deep it almost made him shiver.

***

He accepted the job, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do some extra investigation on the side.

Her report was extensive and plentiful, but there were gaps and a subtle vagueness that didn’t sit well with him. It meant there was a big chunk of information she was deliberately not sharing with him, and that couldn’t be good.

One, because if there was something he needed to know, he wanted to know. He wouldn’t put the whole mission in jeopardy just because a pretty girl subtly told him to not look too much into it.

Two, because she could be lying and selling him bullshit to rope him into killing innocent people - not that they looked that innocent in the paper, given the dubious experiments and the suspicious payment methods - and Jason had morals, thank you very much.

And three, because he was curious. What had happened? How was this woman involved in a secret government organization that experimented with creatures from another dimension? He needed to find out who she was and why she wanted to destroy them so much.

Turns out, it wasn’t that hard to find out the answer to at least one of his questions.

Her name was Jasmine, twenty years old. Eldest daughter of Jackson and Madeline Fenton.

Jason had to stop and take a step back for a moment, his mind replaying the way her eyes hardened at her mask of indifference almost broke when those two were discussed.

Her own damn parents.

“I want them to suffer.”

What the hell happened? He wasn’t a stranger to shitty parents or wanting to kill paternal figures; hell, he wanted to kill Bruce, but he wanted it to be clean and swift, beat him at his own game, not the dark desires he saw in her eyes as she said those words.

The next days he worked restessly to find out what the fuck happened to the sweet girl in the family photos he managed to find online. What happened since her graduation photo, seventeen and with a bright smile full of hope and plans for the future, that could make her what she was now.

Turns out, she had a brother. Had.

Daniel Fenton was seventeen years old when he was reported missing. There was some follow up on the investigation, but local police quickly closed the case as another runaway and forgot about it.

It smelled so bad and sketchy, the police files were half assed and filled with grammatical and spelling errors, as if nobody cared enough to properly write them. The interviews were brief and scarce, and the parents were absent for the most of it.

Bad. Very bad.

The last piece clicked when he found out about project P-001.

It wasn’t in Jasmine’s report. For a good reason.

If Jason had to make a list of things that weren’t pleasant to read, the reports on project P-001 would be at the top - and he had read many unpleasant things in his career as Robin and then with the League and training with the teachers Talia set up for him.

P-001 was… an ode to inhumanity. How far people were ready to go “in the name of science”, how extreme things could get without anybody having concerns about the morality of it all, how much auto-justification a person needed to hurt another creature and stop questioning if there was a limit to what they were doing.

Jason saw a photo of the studied subject for project P-001. Malnourished, broken and defeated, but not beyond recognition.

Daniel had been tortured and killed by these people, his parents won a few awards thanks to the results of project P-001, the GIW got a whole new influx of taxpayer money thanks to his sacrifice.

They called him “Phantom”, but there was no doubt that it was Daniel who was sitting in that cell, chained to a wall. They called him “a thing” but the reports talked about vital signs and electrical brain signals and bone density. They reported his death as a “small bump in the road of the pursuit of knowledge” but he couldn’t find a death certificate no matter how much he looked.

***

Jason found the woman in a nearby park, quietly feeding the ducks some lettuce at the pond. It was a nice day outside, not too sunny or too cloudy, and the breeze was cold enough for a jacket. A perfect day.

Jasmine looked younger in her jeans and black long sleeved shirt, now without makeup in her face. She had long red hair freely moved by the breeze, pushed back from her face with a teal headband.

“It wasn’t hard to find you, Jasmine.”

“I wasn’t exactly hiding.” She shrugged, still looking at the ducks approaching the little lettuce chunks she threw at the water.

Both watched the ducks fight for the food for a moment.

“Having second thoughts?” She asked, deliberately not looking at him.

He shook his head despite knowing she wouldn’t see it. “No. Just… curious.”

“About?” Jasmine arched an eyebrow, ripping a bit more of lettuce and throwing it at the ducks.

What could he ask? How did that happen? Why didn't she save her brother? How could her parents do something like that? Why had she chosen him for this?

“Why me? Why now?”

“Those are two different questions, Mr. Todd. Pick one.”

It just came out of her mouth like nothing. She knew who he was. She knew about Jason Todd and about his past and what else-

“Relax. I don’t know the details. I just know you were dead for a while and then you were not.”

“How?”

“It wasn’t that hard, actually. Just connected the dots between the dead Robin and Bruce Wayne’s adopted son that was involved in a tragic accident overseas.”

At this point, he was just impressed. When Jasmine investigated, she did so thoroughly.

“It was one of the reasons I chose you, actually.”

“Because I was Robin?” If so, he was walking out of this and never looking back.

“Because you died.” She dropped the last bit of lettuce and turned towards him. Her eyes were dark as the depths of the ocean. “And no one avenged you.” Jasmine smiled, but it wasn’t the vibrant smile of the picture he found of her. “Want to walk with me?”

He just nodded, too entranced by her mysteries. He needed to know what she knew, how she knew it and why her words pulled strings in his heart.

They started wandering around the park without a clear destination, walking side by side, virtually alone at the park in the middle of a weekday.

“I knew you would take this job if only because of the similarities it had with your case. Died young at the hands of a maniac that never got what was deserved. I hoped to appeal to your unprocessed rage as a way to convince you to kill all these people without asking too many questions.”

He frowned, not really liking the analysis, especially because it was exactly what he was going to do. “That’s too many assumptions about a person you have never met.”

“I was going to be a psychiatrist.” She shrugged. “I was interested in profiling and therapy. Guessing is my specialty.”

Was. Past tense.

“What happened?”

“I came back home during a school break to find that my brother was missing. Jack and Maddie acted like he would come back at any moment and didn’t give it a lot of importance.” Her mouth twisted when she said their names. “Danny’s friends told me the truth - he had been taken by the GIW.”

“And the doctors were covering for them.”

She was already shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “Wrong. They were the ones that sold him.”

“Their own son?” The words left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Ah. But they didn’t consider him a son anymore. Danny, for them, was dead. Replaced by Phantom.” She saw he was going to ask follow up questions and quickly added. “Ghosts. The ‘creatures’ they were investigating. You call them ghosts.”

Okay. Aliens existed. He had died and came back to life. Ghosts he could believe. “Your brother was already dead?”

“He was a halfa. Half ghost, half human. A rarity.”

Jason didn’t ask more. With what he found in his research and with the new twist in the story, he was capable of drawing correct conclusions.

“Why didn’t you try to rescue him?” It hurt a little that Danny was already gone by the time he was made aware of this.

“I tried, I tried so hard.” Jasmine stopped walking for a moment, her eyes lost in the memories. For a second, Jason thought she was going to cry. “But it was futile. We were too late, he was dead before we could gather enough resources and intel to storm the lab.”

She resumed walking and he followed. “And then?”

“Then - And then it was like, I don’t know. I wouldn’t say they tried to move on, because they were affected for a while. Danny was dead and gone, we couldn’t even find his ghost in the Ghost Zone, and they accepted it and continued life.

“It was like I was the only one that still cared, that still felt like life had fucked her over. They asked me to let it go, to let Danny go, to be content that at least he was finally resting and not in the hands of his torturers. I couldn’t.” She looked at him, a single tear rolling down in an otherwise emotionless mask. “He was my baby brother. They killed my brother, Jason.”

The force of her words hit him like a sledgehammer.

She wanted the people that hurt her brother to be killed? To suffer? He would do it. Free of charge.

“Give me three days and you have a deal.” He extended his hand for her to shake it.

The slight tremble in her hand when she took it wasn’t exactly because of the cold.

***

Precisely three days and three nights later, everyone in that list was dead. All the bases had been burned to the ground and the lab where Danny was tortured didn’t exist anymore. As an extra, he also uncovered where some of the dirty money came from and sent a few emails to the people that would investigate this.

The GIW would be no more by the end of the week.

He called Jazz, as she insisted she preferred to be addressed, to tell her the good news. It was late at night, but she picked it up after a few rings and didn’t sound sleepy at all.

“It’s done.” The night was quiet as he walked back to his motorcycle, ready to go back to his safehouse, shower the blood away and collapse in his bed for twenty four hours.

Jazz’s only answer was a slow exhale. Was she relieved?

“Thank you, Jason.” Neither commented how her voice broke a little.

“No problem.”

He knew he should hang up as it was what he usually did. The job was done, the bad guys were killed, and the client was satisfied.

And yet…

“I’ll send you the rest of the money-”

“Don’t.”

She was quiet for so long he checked that the call hadn’t been dropped.

“Are you playing with me?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’. “I was feeling charitable and I think your brother deserves a bit of righteous fury. Long story short, the down payment you did before the hit? It will get bounced back to you in a business day or two, I think.”

“I don’t want to be pitied. If this is because I told you-”

“No.” He finally got to his bike, hidden behind some bushes. “It’s not about pity. Is not even about your brother. It’s about me.”

“Oh?”

He sighed. He had time to think about this job and how close to his heart it hit. “You were right, I was never avenged. I have an older brother, but you probably already knew that,” she hummed in agreement, but didn’t interrupt him. “I wish he had gone and hired a dude to kill the Joker, like you did, instead of hiding behind shitty morals.”

“I don’t think the Joker could be killed so easily, so it’s not the same situation.” She chuckled softly, the sound fitting her lovely voice. “And also, I hired you because I can’t fight and I don’t have the means to do what you can do. Not because I didn’t want to do it myself.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “So you are saying that if you were trained, you would have done this yourself.”

“Absolutely. Why waste time telling my sob story to a total stranger?”

She had a point. Also, he was scared what kind of assassin she could be if she had the proper training. She was smart and methodical, she just needed-

Jason stopped the thought right there. He was getting attached. Maybe he was just tired.

“So. What’s the deal now? I don’t know you, you don’t know me, and we never speak again?”

“Pretty much it,” Jason got onto his bike, but didn’t turn it on just yet. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Jazz.”

She hummed again. “Thank you again. For this, I mean.”

Jason choked a little at how sincere she sounded. “No problem at all.” And, feeling like she needed a bit of closure, he added: “Danny would be proud of you.”

Jazz was quiet for a moment, and he feared he said the wrong thing for a hot second. The apology was ready at the tip of his tongue when he heard a quiet sob.

“I hope so.” She tried to sound normal, but he already heard her. “I really hope so.”

***

He tracked her down again in another park, in another city. She had changed her fake name twice and did a really decent job covering her tracks to just disappear and start again.

The thing is, she looked miserable.

She was looking at the ducks in a nearby pond, a lettuce in her hands, but she wasn’t moving from the park bench she was sitting on. Just looking at the ducks.

“I thought we wouldn’t see each other again.”

“Maybe this is a coincidence.”

Her chuckle was as lifeless as the rest of herself. What happened?

“Danny’s friends got angry at me. They said I went mad and that what I did was wrong.” She said as an explanation, but he knew that it wasn’t it. “An anonymous tip led the Justice League to my childhood home and everything was confiscated.”

She glared at him, as if she knew he had something to do with it. One of her hands went for a necklace she hadn’t the last time he saw her - it was more like a piece of metal that had been drilled a hole and was attached to a chain.

He didn’t comment on the object, although he assumed it had something to do with Danny.

“Jasmine Fenton is dead.” She sighed. “I really can’t go back, huh.”

Jason couldn’t think of anything useful to say, so he didn’t say anything.

Both sat in silence, watching the ducks paddle around the pond. Jasmine fiddled with the lettuce, probably thinking about walking up to the water and feeding the animals.

Jason stood up and extended his hand for her to take it. To his surprise, she easily did so, following him towards whe ducks, and letting him take the green leaves from her hands.

He started breaking off pieces of lettuce and throwing it to the water. “You could come with me.”

“Huh?”

He didn’t look at her. This wasn’t some spur of the moment decision - he couldn’t stop thinking about her dull eyes and her anger and her sad smiles. He had his own issues, but he could see a kindred broken soul in her.

Also, he could use someone like her in what he had planned for Gotham. She was smart, capable and wasn’t afraid of doing what had to be done.

“I’m going back to Gotham soon. I have plans for that city.”

“What about Batman?”

He looked at her, finding her arching an eyebrow at him. Her teal eyes were getting back some light as she narrowed her eyes, thinking, analyzing him.

“I have plans for him too.”

Jazz had given him much to think about. After he got his shower and his rest, Jason considered how broken up Jazz had been about the whole issue, how much revenge had taken from her. She got the job done, she made sure her little brother’s death meant something - but her cost had been more than money.

He still resented Bruce for not doing anything after his death, don’t be confused. But he was starting to think that things aren’t that simple, and that grief could really mess up with someone’s decisions.

So. He had changed his plans regarding Bruce. Less torture and more hard facts, and was still going to make him lose his mind trying to guess who Red Hood was, but that was more for his own enjoyment than to see him suffer.

“How could someone like me be of use to someone like you?”

Right. His offer.

“You have guts and the brains to back them up. I like that,” he shrugged, passing the lettuce back to her. “And you can be trained.”

“To be like you?”

“If that’s what you want.” He wouldn’t force her, though. If she said no, he wouldn’t push it. “You could watch my back and I watch yours.”

Jazz was quiet as she took her time breaking up the lettuce and letting it fall into the water. Her face was neutral, her eyes glazed over as she contemplated her options. She had done her research on him, on his past, on Gotham and on Batman. She knew what she was getting herself into if she said yes.

“You know what? Why the hell not.” She rubbed any remaining piece of lettuce from her hands and turned to look at him with a tiny smile. “Danny always said I had to live a little.”

She extended her hand for him to take it. He did so, finding that this time her handshake was firmer. Stronger.

“Give me three days and you have a deal.” She winked.

Back to Main Archive

Back to Danny Phantom Archive

Do you like my stuff? Buy me a Ko-fi!

[chiaraanatra]

You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin' | Part 2

Summary: Goose meets you at the Miramar Officers’ Club and after a drink and a brief conversation he wished would never end he believes that he’ll never see you again. Little did he know while this may have been your first meeting, it would not be your last.

Warning: Swearing, boys being stupid, me knowing nothing about how radar works, Goose having some suggestive thoughts

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Goose is a leg man I will not be taking any questions on the matter. We are all imagining that Carol is living her best life somewhere far from San Diego. I love her and Goose and refuse to kill her off or have either one of them go through a divorce. Sorry not sorry to Bradley for wiping your existence from this fictional plane. Also I know nothing about planes, aviation, engineering, or the Navy, I'm just a Goose girly at heart.

《 part 1 || part 3 || part 4 || epilogue 》 《 m.list || ao3 》

Maverick and Goose stood stiff as boards against one of the joint naval offices. Goose could feel himself sweating through his khaki uniform as he listened to an irate Air Boss Johnson scream at Commander Mike ‘Viper’ Metcalf. “One of your snot-nosed jockeys did a flyby on my tower at over 400 knots! I want somebody's butt! I want it now! I've had it!”

Johnson burst through the office doors just in time to knock into a Navy boy carrying a tray of coffee. “God damn it! That's twice! I want some butts!” He screamed as he made his way down the hall.

Viper and Jester emerged from the office. Viper let out a sigh, “Well, that'll just about cover the flybys.”

Lieutenant Commander Heatherly looked over at the boys, “Follow me.”

The walk down the hall felt like miles. Nick was used to Pete’s antics, they had been flying together for years, but sometimes it felt like Mav didn’t understand what was really at stake with all this. Goose needed this, not the Top Gun trophy, if Nick was honest, he could give a fuck about the trophy, but if this went south, the two could get kicked out of Top Gun, or worse, lose their wings and be grounded.

The four walked into Commander Metcalf’s office. Metcalf grabbed a manila folder from his desk, before standing to look out his office window. Mav and Goose stood at attention in front of the commander’s desk mentally preparing for the ass-chewing they were about to receive.

“Gentlemen, you had a hell of a first day.” Viper glanced out his office window. “The hard deck for this hop was 10,000 feet. You knew it, you broke it. You followed Commander Heatherly below after he lost sight of you and called ‘no joy.’ Why?” Viper’s voice was steady and calm, too calm for Goose’s liking.

“Sir!” Mav looked straight ahead, “I had Commander Heatherly in my sights. He saw me move in for the kill. He then proceeded below the hard deck. We weren't below 10,000 for more than a few seconds. I had the shot, there was no danger, so I took it.”

God damn it, Mav…

Commander Metcalf turned towards the boys. “You took it... and broke a major rule of engagement!” The rise in his voice made Goose want to curl up and die as he watches the commander walk towards them. “Then you broke another one with that circus stunt flyby.” Viper let out a sigh as he looked back out his office window. “Lieutenant Mitchell... Top Gun rules exist for your safety and that of your team. They are not flexible, nor am l. Either obey them, or you are history. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Stated Mav, his eyes remaining focused on the window in front of him.

Metcalf took the seat in front of his desk before dismissing the young aviators.

Goose followed closely behind Maverick, closing the Commander’s office door after him. He let his hand come down a bit harder than he might have intended on the shorter pilot’s shoulder, “I really enjoyed that, Mav. Thanks a lot.” He leaned up against the wall, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Holy shit! Maybe I could learn how to be a truck driver.” He dropped his hands and looked back at Pete. “You have the number of that driving school on TV? Truck Master, I think it is. I might need that…”

Before he could spiral any further, he was brought out of his thoughts by a voice as sweet as honey. “Lieutenant.”

The two men turned to look down the hall. Goose was greeted by a beautiful sight. His eyes widened as he took in your form, making their way from your heels that clicked on the tile floor to your stocking-clad legs that went on for miles. When they made their way to the first of your outfit, Goose couldn’t help but wish your skirt was a little shorter and there was one less button done on your blouse.

Goose shut his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Get it together, she’s your instructor!

As you came closer to the two-man Maverick turned to his RIO. “Okay, well,” he dusted off the shoulders of Goose’s khaki uniform. “Don’t be nervous. You look great, dear.”

“Thanks, honey.” Goose turned to you as Maverick made his way down the hall.

You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. But quickly regained your professional composure. “That pilot of yours is quite the troublemaker. I could hear Johnson yelling from my office down the hall.”

“Mav’s not one to think before he acts. It’s bitten me in the ass more times than I would like to admit.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about his hotshot antics. Charlie was annoyed, to say the least, after finding out that the two of you were the famous MIG insulter. Then again, judging by the back and forth with Charlie this morning, you seem to enjoy yourself at times.

“Oh, you heard all that...?” Goose looked down at his boots gently taping his foot.

“Bits and pieces to say the least,” You notice him looking everywhere but you. “Look, Charlie and I are instructors, we see 20 new hotshots every eight weeks.” If you were being honest you weren’t completely sure what you were saying. You are his instructor the last thing you should be thinking about is flirting with one of your students, let alone thinking about how good he looks in that khaki uniform. “That being said…”

Goose couldn’t bring himself to look up from his boots, it may have been disrespectful in some right, but he wasn’t sure where to look at this felt like the safest bet. His thoughts were running a mile a minute. Here it comes. Yeah, we can forget all about last night and I promise to think only wholesome thoughts when looking at you-

“I would love to see that MiG polaroid sometime.” You smiled up as the taller man finally met your gaze. You swear you could fall for those amber eyes even though you both knew that could never happen.

Goose smiled at your comment. “I’ll admit if this top gun thing doesn’t work out, I could always fall on photography as a backup,” he joked.

“Don’t forget your singing career. With that, you’re practically a triple threat, Lieutenant.

“Please, call me Nick. At least in casual conversation.”

“Are you anticipating more casual conversations with me Lieutenant?” Before he could answer you looked down at your watch noticing the time. “Well, Nick I should get going. I’m sure I will be seeing you.”

The way his name fell from your lips was heavenly. Unfortunately, before he could form a cohesive sentence you were already making your way down the hall.

The next day the Pilots and RIOs were split, with pilots going with Charlie to discuss the maneuvering capabilities of the F-18 and RIOs going with you to discuss radar systems and running hypotheticals drills.

You were leaning on the desk in front and center of the small lecture-style room. You could hear the ROIs down the hall before they made their entrance into the room. Marcus ‘Sundown’ Williams, Leonard ‘Wolfman’ Wolfe, Ron "Slider" Kerner, and Nick ‘Goose’ Bradshaw. The boys took their seats as you began.

Goose couldn’t help but stare at you as you began talking about radar systems that he knew like the back of his hand. He listened to you talk about the F14’s APG-65 system and its uses. He couldn’t deny that you knew what you were talking about, he could tell that this introduction was to spell that out to the others. He thought about how often people might not take you as seriously as they might a man in your same position and how the thought of someone disrespecting you ticked him off.

“-but you all knew that.” Your pause brought Nick out of his thoughts to focus back on your lecture. “To an extent, a raid assessment allows radar separation of closely spaced targets. While these are advanced systems, and ones far better than what we were using 3 years ago, they are not perfect. If a second MiG is flying close enough below the first, the APG won’t be able to detect the second aircraft until it has diverged from its partner.” You paused for a moment to glance at Goose. “I’m sure some of you have seen this firsthand.” You tried not to maintain eye contact with Goose for too long, however, his eyes never left your form.

Your lecture came to a close. You stood at the head of the desk gathering some files. You hadn’t noticed that someone had stayed behind until you heard a voice from behind you. “You really know your stuff.” Goose was leaning against the railing in front of the first row of lecture seating.

“I sure hope so, I was told I was hired for that very reason.” You said with a smile before turning to face the tall aviator. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Goose looked down at his boots before looking back up to meet your gaze, “I wanted to ask, why didn’t you tell me who you were the other night.”

“I remember telling you my name. However, I may have left out the Top Gun instructor part.” You leaned against the desk and watched as Nick made his way close to you.

“A small detail. I can see how it could be overlooked.” He joked. He stopped just in of you, watching you look up at him. He couldn’t help as less-than-appropriate thoughts wandered into his mind. He shouldn’t be flirting with you, but you weren’t exactly making any attempts to stop him.

“A small oversight.” You could feel your heartbeat quicken slightly. You bite your cheek in an attempt to subdue the smile that was attempting to make its way across your lips. You couldn’t deny that Nick Bradshaw was a handsome man. His dirty blonde hair, his amber eyes, his voice that you knew could make any woman melt.

“I’ll be honest… I’m very tempted to ask you to dinner.”

Your eyes left his as you scribbled something on a piece of paper, “I usually make it a point to not date my students, Lieutenant.”

For a moment Nick thought he had crashed and burned, but then your words hit him, “usually?”

You folded the quarter sheet of paper twice, “usually.” You smile up at him before standing and gathering your things. Before making your exit, you placed the small note into his breast pocket, taping it lightly.

Nick watched as you exited the room. As clique as it was, he hated to see you go but couldn’t complain about watching you leave. When you were out the door he quickly grabbed the note out of his pocket

Dinner tonight 6:00 102 Laurel Beach Don’t be late!

“Holy shit…” Goose looked at his watch, it was 3:30 now. He grabbed his jacket and ran out into the hallway only to be met with Mav and Ice having a dick-measuring contest just down the hall. “Mav!” he waved his pilot down.

“Might want to run along to mother Goose,” Ice laughs.

“Yeah, I’m sure you have to find Slider and make sure he’s not lost in the hangar again.” Mav flashed the taller pilot a smile before making his way down the hall to his RIO.

“You never gonna believe this,” he hands Mav the note.

Mav looks at the note, “wow, Goose, your handwriting has improved. But you didn’t have to write me a note to get me to go to dinner with you.”

Goose let out a fake laugh placing his hand over his heart, “haha! Oh, Mav, you kill me!” He snatches the note out of the shorter man’s hands. “It’s from Stinger.”

“Bullshit!”

Nick held up three fingers, “scouts honor!”

Mav looked at his watch, “You better get going. You definitely need a shower. Also please don’t wear one of your stupid Hawaiian shirts…”

“What? Ladies love my Hawaiian shirts!”

“Sure, they do.” Mav rolled his eyes watching his friend practically run down the hallway. “And use protection!” He yells.

Goose turns to run backward and flashes a middle finger and a smile to Mav before making his way out of the building.

Part 3

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2 & @saturnsbabe69

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[gummie-s]

𖤐Mr. Suneater.

ORDER #5 -- daddy kink, age gap, boss x employee, prohero!tamaki, creampie, size kink, established relationship, talk of alcohol, consensual sex, full nelson, terms like "princess" "young lady" are used.

WORD COUNT# -- 6.1k

HUNGRY FOR MORE? -- buffet entrance

you were probably the luckiest girl in japan.

you got to work under your favorite pro hero, Suneater. he has always been somebody you admired. you're still a fan of his, but maybe not as desperate of one, not like how you were back in highschool. in your teenage years you would go through the effort to look up clips of him after or in between classes, you'd scavenge for his few interviews he'd reluctantly agreed to do, and of course you tried to get your hands on the small amount of merch he had. you had years worth of hero work to go through.

he was thirty-three when you graduated school at eighteen.

you were twenty-one when you applied for a job as his secretary after the opening of his first agency. Mr. Suneater was thirty-six.

he wasn't aware you were a die hard fan of his, and you'd left that . . . obsessive attitude behind in highschool. you didn't bring it up to him either, feeling that it was too embarrassing for the pro to know about your little celebrity crush you had on him. you were more mature now, and you really did want to help people with this job.

that didn't stop the huge rush of adrenaline and excitement that had you squealing in victory when you received the email that you'd secured the job as his personal secretary. you got to move your stuff into your desk that was right down the hall of Mr. Suneaters office where he completed paperwork and general work he couldn't do out on the streets. running an agency was a big job, and you were determined to help.

you got to see him everyday.

you saw him every morning for the next year, bright and early, when it was just you and him getting ready for the day before other members of the agency arrived. you got to watch him wake up, his wise eyes half lidded and sleepy, his wild dark hair unmade and long where it bobbed around his jaw. you got to bid him goodnight when you both locked up, and you got to hopelessly look forward to the way he would look down at you to tell you that you did a good job that day.

hell, he had you on speed dial so that you could properly keep him up to date with his schedule, he was anxious about that kinda stuff. you were quite literally getting phone calls from Suneater.

Suneater had done a lot of growing since UA, physically and emotionally. sure, he was still on the introverted side, his anxiety remained a very present thing in his day to day life. but he had gained the confidence to start his own agency which was something you were proud of him for.

he was resilient, reliable, and strong. mentally and physically, as he had increased challenging his body and training after he had mastered his quirk.

in short, you could say you appreciated it. he was taller now, and because you were in charge of his larger appointments, including physical check ups from doctors, you knew he was roughly six-foot-one. he'd hit a growth spurt after highschool, and Suneater had told you himself in a dejected mumble that he wished he was still small enough to easily hide behind his close friend Lemillion, who was a beast.

in your first year of work under him he used to strictly refer to you as "miss" and "young lady". it was funny, because it made him sound like an old man. you'd giggle afterwards everytime and his ears would droop, unsure of what you were laughing at.

"you can just call me by name, y'know." you informed him one day, slipping some important papers into a yellow manila folder.

Suneater hovered by your desk, his shoulders stiffening up. "if you're sure, then alright. i'll try and remember that." hesitantly he added your last name to the end of his sentence.

you smiled warmly. "there you go."

Suneater breathed your name again, as if he was trying to make it stick. "got it." he nodded, and off he went to his office.

goosebumps had spread out across your skin, the chills remaining even after the couple minutes you sat alone in his absence. a giddy thrill coursed through your veins, and that thrill followed you everyday you worked with him.

it was late march, his thirty-seventh birthday had come and went on the fourth. of course you had given him a little something. a small vanilla cupcake, his favorite. it wouldn't help him save people and it wouldn't take up much room in his stomach, he had a big appetite nowadays. yet, Suneater didn't seem to think about these things. he ate it in three bites and nodded his thanks, giving you a thumbs up instead of a proper thank you. you didn't mind, you were aware he wasn't a huge fan of his birthday.

"'s good." he told you, his little smile showing off the crows feet by his eyes.

"i'm glad." you murmured, watching him lick creamy frosting off his fingers.

you waited for a week or two after his birthday before you came to terms with your budding feelings. you made the decision to take a leap of faith.

you planned to ask him out to a small pub that you knew was open late after work, it was a normal thing to do as coworkers. you were a big part of his job, so why not spend a little extra time together? you still had a strong interest in him, especially now that you actually knew him, and not just of things that you've read online. these shallow little feelings had grown into something more permanent, a genuine affection and desire that you wanted to explore.

"hey, do you wanna go out for drinks tonight?" you stopped by his door, pulling your pencil skirt down your thighs.

Suneater looked up at you, reading glasses resting on the tip of his nose. he was quick to yank them off, "um." he glanced at the time, just about everyone had gone home already.

you were tired from the day, even though crime was slow at the moment. your hair was unkempt and your blouse collar was unbuttoned, your makeup not as perfect as it had been that morning. you had a new winter coat over your shoulders, and you watched him take notice of it and catch the hint that it was time to close up shop for the night.

"it's . . . a little late, yeah?" Suneater sifted through paperwork, standing up and getting himself ready to go.

you chuckled, walking up to his desk and sitting on the corner with your leg crossed over the other. "oh, i guess it is."

Suneater looked at you with a hesitant downturn of his lips. "i don't drink."

your brows arched, expressing your surprise. you simply wanted to relax and hang out with him, and you just assumed that for men at his age that meant alcohol.

"really?" you asked, kicking your feet.

"uh, yep. sober since i was twenty-four," he paused to calculate. "so that's thirteen years." he finished cleaning up his work area and snatched up his coat.

you followed him out of his office, watching him lock it. together you walked down the hall, bags and comfortable silence in tow. you broke it with a small hum. "any particular reason?"

"that i'm sober?" he looked down at you to double check.

you nodded, helping him turn off all the lights.

"well, i don't like alcohol. and i'm usually the designated driver." he explained, his reasoning extraordinarily simple. "i'm a bit of a lightweight, and i just don't like getting drunk."

"oh." you fiddled with your zipper, the air cold and whipping against your legs when Suneater opened the door for you. "i guess i never really noticed." there have been plenty of opportunities for you to be around him while alcohol was at the table, he had many events to attend nowadays. but it made sense for a hero to avoid substances that could stunt their efficiency and quality of work.

he cleared his throat, "why don't you go with someone else? i think some people went out earlier tonight when they got off their shift." he held a large jingling keyring, his fingers shuffled through them to use the right one to lock the main doors.

shame clogged up your throat, an embarrassed heat crawling to your cheeks that valiantly fought off the chill of the night. "yeah, they did." Suneater looked at you curiously over his shoulder, your nervous tone unusual. you've grown to be pretty comfortable talking to him in your time of working under him, and he was the same with you.

an awkward silence floated across the frigid breeze.

he looked so handsome in the darkness, the light from the street casting a dim pretty glow across his tanned skin. his long hair fluttered when he shivered and shook his head, his dark eyes squeezing shut and then immediately popping open to look at you curiously.

"maybe we can try lunch instead? coffee?" you offered and immediately regretted it, you sounded so needy. too obvious, too obvious!

"oh, um. maybe." Suneater replied weakly. 

your heart sank, he didn't sound interested in the slightest. you stared at each other for a little longer.

"did . . ." Suneater trailed off before he could really formulate his sentence. he took a breath, "so you wanted to go with me in particular?"

that warmth in your cheeks rapidly spread out along your chest and back, "i asked you! so, yeah."

Suneater rolled his wide shoulders and started in the direction of the train station. he always walked you there. he started doing it once he realized how late you had to stay with him after work. it never failed to make you feel all fuzzy inside to know he cared personally about your safety, but now all you felt was dread knowing that he was probably going to reject you by how this walk was playing out.

"i know, but drinks this late? i guess i was just wondering if-- if you wanted to go with me, and only me." his voice was soft and low, rasping on the way out of his dusky pink lips. "and lunch?"

you laughed nervously, wrapping your coat around you more firmly in an attempt to keep the cold from reaching you. your legs were covered in chills, the air creeping over your skin and making it impossible to stop shivering. the nerves made it hard too.

"yeah, what do you . . . think i mean by that?" you tried to stall for as long as possible, your head was racing with thoughts and screaming concerns.

mostly ones that ran along the lines of 'i'm so fired.'

"i'm sorry if i'm wrong, this is super unprofessional," Suneater anxiously muttered, "but i think you're trying to ask me out. like on a date." his voice quivered on the last word.

"you caught me . . !" you tried to joke, "good job, Suneater."

"wow." he gasped softly.

you didn't give him another chance to speak, word vomit spilling out of you.

"i'm sorry, i'm the unprofessional one here, you're my boss, i just put you in a really bad position." you rushed to take the blame for the awkwardness, voice rising and eyes burning with humiliated tears. what were you expecting, really? just because you were close with him didn't mean that anything more was going to come out of it. you should have just kept your mouth shut.

Suneater's pace was slow, his legs were longer than yours so you knew it was on purpose so you could keep up with him. he glanced at you and shook his head, "no, no, you're okay. the thing is . . ." his chin dimpled and he had an awkward quirk of his lips, "i want to say yes, it's just that-- well, i dunno. you're really young."

your body was on fire, a funny sound popped out of you, "what? that's it?"

"yeah. i don't think you really want me that way, I'm just-- how old are you again?" he looked down at you, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"twenty-two."

"god, twenty-two." he sighed.

"is that so bad?" you asked softly, sniffling and subtly pulling yourself back together.

"i'm pushing forty," he told you. " we have a fifteen year age gap, it's a little bad." Suneater's eyes went skyward, as if he could peek at the top of his head, "i mean, i found another grey hair this morning."

"and your hair looks great! i like it." you giggled in a breathy tone while you shrugged unhelpfully. he said he wanted to take you up on your offer, and that's all you were really thinking about. there was hope.

"you're a nice young lady, i'm sure there are tons of young men out there that would love to have your company."

ignoring him, you just asked the burning question. "Suneater, do you want me?." being straight forward was the best option, so you went the extra mile and hooked your hand on the crook of his elbow. however after establishing that physical contact you began staring at his coat, suddenly you found it very interesting.

he choked, whipping his head away so he wouldn't have to look at you, "how are you so confident? when i was your age i could barely . . ." he trailed off, sighing again. the tips of his ears were a brilliant red, even in the dim lighting you could see it. "i do. i never thought you'd ask me, i just . . . you're out of my league." he murmured, peeking at you through his unruly long hair that you couldn't remember the last time he'd cut.

you jolted, grip tightening on him as a huge rush of excitement swarmed and overrode the negative feelings you've been fighting with for the entire conversation.

"wait, i'm out of your league?"

"yeah."

briefly you stared up at the fine piece of man standing before you. sure he was older, but that's kind of what made him more attractive.

you shook your head. "you're wrong, and I'm too tired to explain why because it's common sense."

"okay . . ."

"but, you do? you really like me?" you got up on your tippy toes, a smile growing on your lips.

"i have for a little while, yes." he placed a large, shaky hand on top of yours, keeping your own hand in place where it curled around his arm. you shivered, he was so much warmer than you, even in the cold. Suneater's confession had your body temperature rising too, you never wanted this warmth to end.

"then i don't see any problem! we both like each other so why not . . ? give it a shot?" you asked, a little nervous to see the train station coming into view, you'd have to go soon and you don't think you'd survive the night not knowing his answer.

a small smile graced his face, his eyes sparkling, "if you're really sure," he said. his brows were wrinkled, obviously still nervous that you would for whatever reason change your mind. "then, yeah i think so too."

he walked you to the train doors and gave your hand a squeeze before he let you go, and you waved at him through the window. he stayed behind to watch you leave, raising his hand in a lazy wave back, his expression sweet. you found a seat quickly due to the late hour and settled in for the ride home.

his confession continued to keep you warm for the entire trip, your cheeks sore from smiling.

the date went swimmingly, you first had to wait until he was available, and you of course handled the scheduling since you knew his so well. the first date was a lunch date and it was on a bright sunny day, unusual for the time of year. you wore your prettiest casual dress you had, while tamaki wore an old thick leather jacket you'd never seen him in before. it was cute, he paid for the meal and you finally got to spend some one on one time together.

at the end he told you that you made him feel young, and from anyone else it might have felt a little cheesy, but Suneater was so honest that it was just sweet.

the second and third date were just as nice, and work was the best it's ever been because Suneater would regularly spoil you with his handsome little smiles when he got back from patrols, rarely seen dimples popping at his cheeks. he hovered around you more, talked more and gave you so much more attention you now realized he had been holding back from giving you. you were obsessed with this new development.

maybe to anyone else it'd seem like an average amount of thoughtfulness, but with Suneater it was different, he was still introverted and very busy.

so, him going through the effort to get as much work done as possible so he could share lunch with you was charming. or the way he tried to buy you the treats you liked at the vending machines was kind, and the fact he stored them in his hero costume pouches while he was out on the streets just so he could give them to you and watch you smile was incredibly sweet.

he asked you formally to be his girlfriend on the fourth date. you gawked and asked, "i'm just now becoming your girlfriend? i thought we figured this out already!" and Suneater quickly tried to backtrack and apologize until you started laughing. you of course said yes.

by the fifth date you finally started kissing. this was when you realized Suneater was more of a taking it slow kind of guy.

even his kisses were slow, not like it was a bad thing. you quite liked it, the slow drag of his lips against yours, his breaths deep and steady when they brushed across your skin was better than you could have imagined. the heavy weight of his hands on your waist, and the way his thumbs stroked at your ribs was nice, the skin on his hands there now thickened and tough from years of hero work. he was so big, easily tucking you into his body and hiding your kisses from the world with his wide frame. he was a little soft around his middle, probably from how much eating he had to do for his quirk and you liked that too.

on the sixth date, a dinner you had prepared at your apartment, you finally called him by name. Tamaki. 

"i can't believe i haven't noticed that this whole time you've been calling me by my hero name." he grumbled, eyes cast to the floor.

"i'm sorry, i'm just so used to calling you that, even in my head! especially at work." you rubbed his arm soothingly as you cuddled into his side, the two of you sinking into your couch. you were amused by his dramatics and the fact that he still hadn't grown out of it.

"it's okay. i don't mind, but i just-- i like it when you say my name, my real name." he confessed, flustered as if it was something obscene.

"i get it, Tamaki. i like it too."

Tamaki's aged eyes softened as he looked at you adoringly. he leaned down and kissed you on the cheek, his hand cupping the side of your neck and absolutely covering it. heat bursted beneath the surface of your face and you smiled with a small chuckle.

you expected a single kiss but he didn't stop there, Tamaki kept kissing you. his lips trailed across your cheek, he briefly paused to kiss at your jaw, and then his mouth went down to your neck. your eyes went wide for a second, expecting something uncharacteristically dirty to come out of your current predicament.

you waited, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. in the end, it was for nothing, because after a chaste press of his lips against your pulse, Tamaki pulled away.

"what was that?" you opened your eyes, his hand still on the side of your neck, your blood racing beneath his palm.

"a kiss?" he tilted his head.

"you've never done that before,"

"i've kissed you!"

"no-- you haven't on my neck! i thought you were gonna . . . leave a hickey or something." you shyly flapped your hand at him in an embarrassed manner. hickey's was highschool level stuff, it was immature even. someone could see them later, of course Tamaki wouldn't leave one of those.

"oh." he stared at you hard, the narrow slant of his eyes somehow narrower. "is that what you want?" he asked softly.

you squirm closer to him, glued to his side, "maybe." you tossed your earlier reasoning out the window.

"okay." Tamaki laid you down on the couch, quick to attack your neck once more with sharp teeth and supple lips. just like that, you and Tamaki shared your first time together.

you went to work wearing a turtleneck the next day, eternally grateful for the cold weather to use as an excuse to hide the bruises that decorated your neck. Tamaki's costume did a good job covering up his own bruised skin too.

"what? that can't be right."

"yep! most of our interns have been going steady and keeping stuff in check, and i got you a couple extra days off." you clicked through your computer, glancing up at him briefly with a grin. it was unusual for pros to take time off, their jobs weren't the kind where they could just spend a weekend sleeping in, especially if they have their own agency to run. yet you were determined to make it work for your boyfriend.

Tamaki leaned over you, his hand holding onto your chair as he squinted at your screen. "what about you?" he asked.

"me?"

"are you getting extra days off too?" he switched from holding onto the chair to resting his hand on your shoulder.

"oh . . .  no, why? i thought you'd want the time to rest and be by yourself. don't you wanna go home?" you were trying to do something nice, he's been working hard lately when he really didn't have to. things were good, yet he was still busting his ass like he had to do everything he could to be better-- which wasn't bad! but sometimes Tamaki didn't realize when he could rest, he stressed so much over the little things.

Tamaki frowned, "yeah, but if i have days off i wanna spend them with you, at least one." he explained honestly.

your insides fluttered, "ohhh, would you miss me too much?" you teased, placing your hand over his where it was squeezing your shoulder.

Tamaki frowned harder, chin dimpling up. "yes."

"okay, you old geezer, i'll see what i can do for you."

you swiped at your computer for a couple more seconds, ready for him to walk off and continue with the day. 

Tamaki added his second hand to your shoulders to tenderly rub and massage your sore muscles with his strong hands. your receptive body melted into a moldable clay beneath his palms, head lolling to the side, temple pillowed on his flexing forearm.

you looked up at him curiously.

"it's almost our five month anniversary." his voice was soft when he said it, a gentle reminder. five months of being the luckiest girl practically ever.

"oh." how could you forget? your literal job was keeping up with scheduling and important dates slash information and yet this very important milestone had slipped your mind.

you smiled up at him warmly, "oh, okay, i'll try to get the same days then. i mean, what's the point of having Suneater's secretary around if there's no Suneater?"

it took you and Tamaki no time to begin celebrating your anniversary.

Tamaki's large hands groped the soft fat of your ass, his spine bowed so he could kiss at your neck, hot mouth sucking at the tender flesh. you cupped the side of his face where a pale scar resided on his cheek bone and softly tanned skin, your free arm thrown over his shoulder. he tugged your hips closer to him as he sat on the edge of the bed, coaxing you into his lap. you spread your legs over his strong, thick thighs, balancing on top of him and moaning softly when his wide, hot palms stroked up and down your waist, taking the path up your body to palm at your clothed tits.

"so pretty," he murmured, his voice husky against the sensitive shell of your ear. your pussy pulsed, your mouth open to thank him but no sound came out.

Tamaki didn't waste time stripping you, quick fingers unbuttoning your blouse and  shucking it off of you. he shoved his hands under the cups of your bra, squeezing carefully at your breasts while your lips parted against his. you desperately yanked at his skintight undersuit, plucking at the collar against his neck, trying to peel it down.

Tamaki chuckled breathily at your attempts to get him naked, "how you doin', there?"

you huffed, "just wanna feel you." small hands found the bare patch of skin between his shoulder blades, and you snuck your fingertips beneath the hem.

"don't worry, honey." Tamaki calmly reached back to unlatch his suit from around his neck, the thick material coming loose.

"Daddy will help you."

you twitched at the name. you pulled his suit down his chest and let your hands feel over his muscles and the single raised scar that went across his shoulder and a corner of his pectoral. Tamaki pulled your skirt down your legs and unclipped your bra to toss aside for good. it was a bit of work to get his suit completely off but you took the time anyway, you wanted to feel all of him, every inch of his skin you could get your hands or mouth on.

you tried to climb back in his lap but he held his hand up and made you turn around before sitting on him.

"do you want me to ride you, Daddy?" you asked softly, leaning back into his chest, your ass grinding onto his dick.

"mm, no." Tamaki held you by your waist, cupping your hip with one hand while his other slipped between the warmth of your thighs. calloused, thick fingers lightly rubbed in tiny circles over your clit, he did this briefly before rubbing at your slit entirely. you moaned under your breath, spreading your legs and allowing his body to support your weight as he pleased you.

he ran his fingers through your puffy lips, slipping his digits over your entrance over and over, the tips of his fingers just barely dipping inside to then spread your slick all over your clit. you arched your hips and reached down to spread your pussy lips open, "inside now, please." you requested sweetly.

of course your boyfriend obliged, his breath hot on your neck when he gave a little laugh at your eagerness. "come again?"

you didn't hesitate, "please, Daddy, want your fingers." you whined, attempting to spread yourself further hoping it would entice him.

"good girl." he spat on his fingers and guided them down to your drooly cunt, pushing two digits inside without any other preamble. he stretched you efficiently, obsessively rubbing and circling your clit before plunging his fingers back into your tight pussy, his fingers large and intruding compared to your own. you were reduced to putty. that bliss didn't last forever as your pussy grew hungry for more, and your nails clawed at his scarred forearms, urging him to fuck you faster with his hand.

"do you want more of this or do you want me to fuck you?" he asked you thoughtfully after you started to tighten and flick your hips into his palm. you felt his hard dick twitch behind you and it pulled a needy whimper from your throat.

"want Daddy's cock . . ." you said simply, already too impatient to sit through him leisurely fingering you any longer. you didn't want him to get too into the foreplay, when he did it always led to him making you cum over and over before he'd even get the chance to push his fat cock inside you like you wanted. for once you just wanted it fast, you wanted to be used by him.

"if that's what you want." Tamaki grabbed the backs of your knees, lifting you up. "arms around my neck." you immediately gripped the back of his head, fingers tangling in his long hair as you were lifted up, up, up, his chest and arms supporting your entire body weight. 

"spread your princess parts for me." he told you after he held you properly, his strong arms steady and his voice equally as controlled.

you rushed to obey, fingers shooting down to messily part your sticky pussy lips. you reached with your other hand to lift his heavy cock up and guided the thick head to rest against your fluttering hole, right where it was supposed to be.

he shifted, his arms slipping farther until your knees were hooked over his elbows and your legs were lifted high, bending you into a compact shape that Tamaki could use. his hands settled at the back of your head, forcing you to look down at where the swollen, red tip of his dick burbled precum against your beating clit, the opaque white smearing across your pearl.

you whimpered, eyes blinking blearily as his low voice told you to relax. you were vulnerable, legs held open and entire body at his disposal. your pussy was so wet and dripping, you groaned in absolute satisfaction when he dropped you down and raised his hips up to stuff his big cock inside. his thick length was sucked right in with ease, your greedy little cunt taking him hungrily. the joining of your bodies made a lewd squelching sound as your slick was displaced.

his dick filled you up, seated deep in your tummy and stimulating all the right places. his thick tip squished against your spongy g-spot, ripping a sharp whine from your chest. he directly fucked up into that gooey spot, making you shiver and curl your toes.

you cried out, "Daddy, oh my god, Daddy-- please, please . . ." his fingers flexed against the back of your head and his arms bulged beneath the hook of your legs.

"what are you asking for?"

"fuck me harder, please, Daddy . . !"

Tamaki did as you asked, not speeding up but strengthening the force of his thrusts, punctuating each fluid movement with a low grunty groan.

"oh!" you gasped as your little pussy stretched and throbbed around the girth of his cock, shock and overwhelming arousal swirling in your belly as you were used like a toy, held firm in his grip. your sole, simple expectation, was to stay still and clamp down when told and milk his dick like a good girl.

"faster!" you whined.

he pumped his hips, pushing his cock in 'n dragging it out of your young body in deep steady strokes. your ass clapped against his thighs, making the fatty flesh of his legs jiggle and your ass ache with each slap as his pace grew more punishing.

He bounced you up and down on his dick, and to your delight his balls started to slap your wet pussy with every roll upwards of his pelvis and your clit throbbed.

"rub my clit, Daddy," you begged, moaning as he bottomed out inside you once more.

"my hands are kinda full, you can do it yourself, young lady." his breath was labored, voice still painfully sweet and soft.

you groaned and reached around his arms, your fingers pulling your ass cheeks apart as he fucked up into you, the bed squeaking with his rhythm. you managed to get your quivery fingers on your sensitive clit, rubbing and pressing as his dick fucked you deep, his hips going steady. he went fast and hard, just how you had wanted, his arms lifting you up and down to fuck you on his dick like a pocket pussy.

your sounds rose in volume, his fingers tightened on the back of your head and you were dizzy with pleasure, mouth hanging open as your fingertips grazed where he plunged into your sloppy cunt.

"'re you rubbin' yourself for me?" Tamaki asked, his hips not slowing despite his soft tone.

"mm, yes, Daddy," you circled your clit with your fingers, ankles bouncing up down above your shoulders with every thrust that you could feel all the way in the back of your throat. your tits jolted and bounced, knees pinning the precious fatty mounds to your ribs.

"uh-uhhh! uh! Daddy!"

"yeah? yeah, princess?"

you relished the feeling of being surrounded by him, his dick deep in your drippy cunny and knocking at your womb. his arms decorated with thick muscle on either side of you, his soft thighs under you and his little groans in your ear where his big hands held onto the sides of your head, thumbs at the soft spot of your nape.

"you like Daddy's cock?" he whispered, "does it feel good, baby girl?"

"love Daddy's cock! i love it, i love it," you whined, pussy squelching and stretched to its limits on his length.

from this position he could fuck you so deep, his heavy dick rubbing against the squishy ribs of your walls, stimulating all your special spots that made you cry like a whore. he fucked you so good you were seeing stars, your pussy twitching harshly around him and clamping down, making it hard for Tamaki to tug you off his cock on the upstroke. you didn't care, you just wanted him inside as deep as possi--

your pussy was soon empty the next time your little cunt clenched, spitting him out and he continued to thrust, his dick sliding up against your clit for a brief moment. you gasped unhappily, your fingers still pulling your pussy open for him. Tamaki grunted, his breath hot on the back of your neck, "oh, you squeezed me out." he stated, sounding a little embarrassed.

you laughed as Tamaki kissed your shoulders. "sorry . . !" you scrambled for his dick, guiding him back to your hole until the red tip popped inside. "ah . . ." you sighed in relief. Tamaki made a similarly placed groan as he dropped you back down onto his cock. he kept up that pace for a bit until you demanded something different.

Tamaki released one of your legs while shallowly humping into you. he released the back of your head and instead leaned back, your weight resting on top of him with one of your legs held in his hand, the other he used to rub at your pussy like how you had wanted before.

"thought your hands were full?" you moaned.

Tamaki grunted, "just lemme work."

"yes, Mr. Suneater." you chirped as he twirled circles on your clit, your hips jittering and your legs automatically trying to close as your pleasure overwhelmed you. Tamaki forced your legs open, wrapping his thick leg over your free one and gripping the back of your knee more firmly with the hand that wasn't rubbing at your bud.

you were already close before, it didn't take long for his touch to work you back up to your precipice once again.

"g'na cum," you warned when his big cock squished at your g-spot and his warm fingers swiped at your cunt just right. "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, please, 'm gonna cum," you squeaked, "Tamaki!" you gasped as he rolled his hips up, up, up, over and over inside, all until your orgasm washed over you. your body quivered atop his, your mouth dropping open as thousands of little sparks went off in your lower belly and twitching pussy that was just so full.

"Tamaki . . ." you sobbed weakly.

he didn't grant you a response, instead groaning low when your snug pussy hugged him just right, orgasming muscles fluttering around his dick in a way that pushed him right over the edge. his fingers stalled on your clit and his entire body shook making you shake in turn.

"'m gonna cum, hun." thick white ribbons shot inside you, and you curled your toes with a big grin at the feeling of him warming you up from the inside out.

Tamaki moaned softly and slowly pulled you off his dick, your pussy making a wet sound once it was emptied. his cum began to seep out, dripping over his lap. he released you, gently setting you down between his legs so he could hold you from behind. you hummed happily, turning your head so you could kiss his panting lips.

"you were amazing," he whispered to you earnestly, strong arms holding you close, his body encasing yours lovingly. "happy five months."

"you too." you sighed contentedly before reaching up to cradle his red complexion. you thumbed at a smile line in his cheek before kissing him again, thumb tracing the groove his face made as another dashing grin took over.

you really are the luckiest girl in japan.

[rockislandadultreads]

New Title Tuesday: Historical Fiction

Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea by Rita Chang-Eppig

When Shek Yeung sees a Portuguese sailor slay her husband, a feared pirate, she knows she must act swiftly or die. Instead of mourning, Shek Yeung launches a new plan: immediately marrying her husband’s second-in-command, and agreeing to bear him a son and heir, in order to retain power over her half of the fleet.

But as Shek Yeung vies for control over the army she knows she was born to lead, larger threats loom. The Chinese Emperor has charged a brutal, crafty nobleman with ridding the South China Seas of pirates, and the Europeans—tired of losing ships, men, and money to Shek Yeung’s alliance—have new plans for the area. Even worse, Shek Yeung’s cutthroat retributions create problems all their own. As Shek Yeung navigates new motherhood and the crises of leadership, she must decide how long she is willing to fight, and at what price, or risk losing her fleet, her new family, and even her life.

A book of salt and grit, blood and sweat, Deep as the Sky, Red as the Sea is an unmissable portrait of a woman who leads with the courage and ruthlessness of our darkest and most beloved heroes.

The Long March Home by Marcus Brotherton and Tosca Lee

Jimmy Propfield joined the army for two reasons: to get out of Mobile, Alabama, with his best friends Hank and Billy and to forget his high school sweetheart, Claire.

Life in the Philippines seems like paradise--until the morning of December 8, 1941, when news comes from Manila: Imperial Japan has bombed Pearl Harbor. Within hours, the teenage friends are plunged into war as enemy warplanes attack Luzon, beginning a battle for control of the Pacific Theater that will culminate with a last stand on the Bataan Peninsula and end with the largest surrender of American troops in history.

What follows will become known as one of the worst atrocities in modern warfare: the Bataan Death March. With no hope of rescue, the three friends vow to make it back home together. But the ordeal is only the beginning of their nearly four-year fight to survive.

Inspired by true stories, The Long March Home is a gripping coming-of-age tale of friendship, sacrifice, and the power of unrelenting hope.

Loot by Tania James

Abbas is just seventeen years old when his gifts as a woodcarver come to the attention of Tipu Sultan, and he is drawn into service at the palace in order to build a giant tiger automaton for Tipu’s sons, a gift to commemorate their return from British captivity. His fate—and the fate of the wooden tiger he helps create—will mirror the vicissitudes of nations and dynasties ravaged by war across India and Europe.

Working alongside the legendary French clockmaker Lucien du Leze, Abbas hones his craft, learns French, and meets Jehanne, the daughter of a French expatriate. When Du Leze is finally permitted to return home to Rouen, he invites Abbas to come along as his apprentice. But by the time Abbas travels to Europe, Tipu’s palace has been looted by British forces, and the tiger automaton has disappeared. To prove himself, Abbas must retrieve the tiger from an estate in the English countryside, where it is displayed in a collection of plundered art.

The Lost Journals of Sacajewea by Debra Magpie Earling

Among the most memorialized women in American history, Sacajewea served as interpreter and guide for Lewis and Clark's Corps of Discovery. In this visionary novel, acclaimed Indigenous author Debra Magpie Earling brings this mythologized figure vividly to life, casting unsparing light on the men who brutalized her and re-centering Sacajewea as the arbiter of her own history.

Raised among the Lemhi Shoshone, in this telling the young Sacajewea is bright and bold, growing strong from the hard work of "learning all ways to survive" gathering berries, water, roots, and wood; butchering buffalo, antelope, and deer; catching salmon and snaring rabbits; weaving baskets and listening to the stories of her elders. When her village is raided and her beloved Appe and Bia are killed, Sacajewea is kidnapped and then gambled away to Charbonneau, a French Canadian trapper.

Heavy with grief, Sacajewea learns how to survive at the edge of a strange new world teeming with fur trappers and traders. When Lewis and Clark's expedition party arrives, Sacajewea knows she must cross a vast and brutal terrain with her newborn son, the white man who owns her, and a company of men who wish to conquer and commodify the world she loves.

Written in lyrical, dreamlike prose, The Lost Journals of Sacajewea is an astonishing work of art and a powerful tale of perseverance--the Indigenous woman's story that hasn't been told.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hi! So I’m minoring in psychology and I cracked open my big ass disorder book (yea this shit 700 pages) and I found one that matches Mikey’s behavior quite well. It’s called IED (intermediate explosive disorder). It’s a disorder that first appears during childhood, unlike everything else I’ve seen ppl theorize. If u can, look into it and lemme know what u think?

Ok I'm just going to start this ask off by saying that I am not an expert in this field, I'm just a person who's done a bit of Internet research on it. I'm not 100% sure how accurate all the sources I looked at were so take everything said here with a grain of salt. I also couldn't find anything about intermediate explosive disorder but I did find a lot about intermittent explosive disorder. Since I think they're similar, I'll be talking about that. Anyway on with the ask!

So intermittent explosive disorder is described as being a disorder where the individual experiences sudden outbursts of rage, agrssion and violence. Something which we know Mikey has done in the past.

Now these reactions are normally classified as being irrational or out of proportion to the situation. As well as being brief/impulsive not pre mediated. Which i think can only apply to some of Mikey's outbursts not all of them. For example manila Mikey obviously planned all those murders those were not impulsive attacks. I also generally think that Mikey was planning to murder South from at least the beginning of the fight not before. The others are arguably impulsive, since we don't know enough about the situations or what Mikey was thinking at the time.

Now two of the symptoms definitely caught my eye in regards to Mikey. And those are having a loss of control and having a sense of emotional detachment. Those are two things that Mikey definitely suffers from.

We know that Mikey doesn't seem to be fully aware of what he's doing and almost seems to be in a trance like state when carrying out his extreme acts of violence. It's like he can't concentrate on anything else but his anger/need for violence. He definitely seems to have that emotional detachment and a loss of control.

People who commonly suffer from intermittent explosive disorder are said to be male, under 40, normally has another mental illness and has experienced multiple traumatic events. The first two obviously fit Mikey, the third one is more up to speculation and I think he ticks the box for the fourth one too. Mikey's had multiple die on him from a young age, if that isn't traumatic experiences then I don't know what is.

Although Mikey does seem to fit with this disorder we obviously can't say that he definitely has this. We just don't know enough about Mikey's thoughts feelings, behaviour and home life to give an accurate diagnosis. However I would say that if Wakui decides to diagnose Mikey's dark impulses then this could be a strong contender.

[novaviis]

sick!dick au. Bruce's POV. read in order here.

For most everyone else, it starts at the Gala.

For Bruce, it starts in a grey little office, with a stack of papers and a glitter pen.

Dick will confess after the fact to the fainting spell in the apartment he shares with Wally, and the months of progressively worse migraines, including an incident on patrol with Jason – and Bruce is none-too-pleased with that information being kept silent, but he picks his battles and this isn’t one of them. Still, looking back nearly everyone will unanimously agree that the night it really “began” was the Gala.

For Bruce, it begins when the social worker hands him a creased manila envelope. Inside is a birth certificate, a social security number, and an immunization record. Bruce looks through the contents of the envelope. Is this really it? Yes, he’s never exactly done this before, but he feels like there should be more. Guardianship of a child shouldn’t be reduced to three pieces of flimsy paper in an envelope. There’s a coffee stain on the corner. The social worker doesn’t really know what to say to that; this is just the way it is. She slides the rest of the paperwork across the table. Everything’s already been looked over by his lawyers, all he needs to do is sign. She pats her pockets, muttering to herself before bringing out a red glitter pen and sheepishly offering it to him.

Bruce is in his twenties. He’s impulsive with his compassion and he just witnessed another little boy watching his parents die. He knows he can give this boy what he needs. Or he’s going to try. But between the drive to bring this boy’s family justice and the need to heal a part of himself in the process, he’s somehow skipped over just how huge this is. He’s thought about it, of course, but always with the under current of doing whatever it takes to make it work. He was going to give the boy a home, give him the closure that Bruce never got, and maybe he’d save him from turning out like… well, like Bruce. Only now he’s staring down at Guardianship written in big block letters across the top of the stack, and it’s sinking in now that he’s not just taking the boy in. He’s going to be his family. And it doesn’t change a thing, his resolve doesn’t waver, because he knows he can give him a good life, but it’s that one word. Family. His family is starting out with a coffee stain, a stack of papers, and a glitter pen.

He signs the papers. Dick is already waiting outside with Alfred, who’s taken him to the small cafeteria down the hall. The boy hasn’t spoken much, in the days Bruce has taken to get to know him. Bruce had asked Alfred if he was like that – after. And Alfred had looked at him sympathetically, answered carefully. Yes, he was, in a sense. Bruce had been quiet. Shellshocked. Traumatized. But Bruce needs to remember that he had him, at least one steady presence in his life. Dick has no one. It’s going to take time.

It shouldn’t be so easy, Bruce find himself thinking over and over as they finish up. He tucks everything away into his briefcase, bears with the social worker smiling and shaking his hand and thanking him for doing such a good deed as if this is a charity stunt for publicity and she doesn’t seem to care either way. He asks again, just before he closes his briefcase, if she’s sure that there’s nothing else he needs. Report cards, keepsakes, family medical history, he doesn’t know. She shakes her head, all pleasant smiles. No, that’s all he came with – as if he’s a shelter dog. Bruce latches his suitcase shut.

Back then, it was just a passing thought. He doesn’t spare it another over the years, because he doesn’t need to. Time went on, Dick becomes an inseparable part of his life. Bruce will always silently maintain that Dick was the one to save him in the end. He’s not a perfect guardian, not a perfect father, and he makes more mistakes than he can count. They argue, they have fallings out, and still they always work through it – because they’re family.

And the issue of the family medical history does not resurface until that champagne gold night. Until he catches Selena watching him from across the ballroom, smiling behind the rim of her wine glass and cocking her head to tease him. Until, he’s distracted between secretively searching the crowds for her and forcing himself to smile and laugh with Gotham’s elite, so he doesn’t notice the commotion rising up on the other side of the room. Until his youngest son comes racing toward him through the crowd looking more scared and shaken than Bruce has ever seen him. Until he breaks through the ring of bystanders and sees Dick passed out on the floor, Wally kneeling over him beside himself with panic. Until the ambulance and the fury of the waiting room (making a mental not to raise absolute hell with the Hospital’s board of directors) and the doctor pulling him to a side room, a little grey office, to ask the dreaded question. All at once, it comes back to that moment, and Bruce sighs, scrubs his palm over his tired eyes. No, he doesn’t have Dick’s family medical history. It doesn’t exist. Realistically, it isn’t Bruce’s fault, but that has never stopped him from shouldering blame.

Selena reaches out in the following days it ask in on how Dick’s doing. Bruce is cordial, tells her that her concern is appreciated but Dick seems to be doing fine. And on the other side of the phone, he can hear her moving around her penthouse, maybe standing at the window – she’s glad to hear it. Let her know if he needs anything, if she can do anything to help. It’s early days then, and none of them know just how bad it’s going to get.

It’s a slow progression at first, and then it’s not. It’s months between seizures, a steady increase in migraines – but life goes on. It’s not as if Bruce is hovering every Dick at every second. He’s a grown man now, with a career and a home and a partner. Bruce supports him in any way he can, until it gets to the point that he has to make the hard call. The argument he has with Dick that night, in the study of Wayne Manor, is something he’ll never wash from his memory. He’s used to making the tough decisions. He’ll be the asshole if he has to, he can handle Dick’s anger, but he’s not going to allow him to take this much risk into the field. Benching Nightwing until they have a handle on this is a necessary call, but Dick is stubborn (who on earth did he learn that from), and unwilling to step down so easily. And as the argument reaches its fever pitch, Bruce pacing and ranting, listing off his rational, he hears Dick call his name in a wavering voice and it cuts through the background noise. Dick, the colour drained from his face, eyes unfocused, conceding that he’s about to lose this argument, will haunt him in the same way as the worst things he’s seen in the life he’s chosen. That’s the moment he knows that this isn’t just going to pass, the moment he bolts to catch Dick before he can topple forward and hit his head. This isn’t something they can wait out. He’ll never regret making the call, but he will always regret the way he put the pressure on Dick, as if he’d just made things worse.

The thing is, this lasts years. It becomes a part of all their lives – because it’s Dick. It isn’t all consuming, it doesn’t eat away at their thoughts every minute of the day, but it’s a resurfacing concern that’s rarely spoken about aloud. And Bruce sees how this changes his family. No one can say that the Wayne clan is the most well adjusted and healthy family, but Bruce does his best. He realises and appreciates now more than ever just how much work Dick put into keeping them all functioning. Keeping them together. He never thought he’d taken it for granted until then. It shouldn’t have taken this to bring the family closer together, but it does, and as much as Bruce hates that, he’s not going to fight it.

Time goes on. Still. It’s a slow progression at first, and then it’s not. Bruce is in a meeting with his chief executive officers when his secretary buzzes in over the speaker saying there’s a call for him on the line. He thanks her for letting him know and tells her to take a message. She says the young man is telling her it’s an emergency. One of the CEOs is about to launch into a presentation and Bruce doesn’t spare him a second thought. Picks up the phone, pushes away from the board table, and paces to the window. Wally’s voice comes through saying his name, shaken and urgent, rambling out sentences too fast for Bruce to hear.

Wally. Slow down. What happened?

He stopped breathing. Fuck, Bruce, he called me at work – sounded like a seizure so I ran home, but he – it didn’t stop, he wasn’t breathing.

That first night, after Bruce has sent his reluctant children home with Alfred, it’s just him and Wally left with Dick. The end of visiting hours is fast approaching. Bruce steps out to let Wally have his time with Dick, allows him some privacy. He eventually makes his way up to the terrace balcony on the upper floors, a green space with massive glass walls and an open ceiling. Fresh air for the first time in hours does wonders.

Selena is there. She approaches him from the other side of a low hedge, bundled up in a cashmere sweater and scarf – ones he bought her ages ago. When he asks how she knew, she smiles. She has her ways. Tim called her, didn’t he. Yeah, he did. They stand in silence for a while, staring out at the mosaic of lights against the persistent dark of Gotham, before she puts a hand on his arm. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, Bruce, she says, and the coy smile fades into sincerity. Come to me when you need to.

Three days after Dick is admitted to the ICU, Bruce calls Damian into the study. It’s late, they just got home from visiting an hour ago. They’ve been arguing a lot lately, before Dick went downhill. Mostly regular thirteen-year-old boy versus father arguing, but a few too many frustrated shouting matches in the Cave. Bruce can’t help but wonder if it’s in part because Dick hasn’t been there to act as a mediator. Still, the past few days have been quiet, if not tense. Damian complies when Bruce calls him down. He’s wearing a sweater he stole from Dick months ago, the bulk of it swallowing his smaller frame like a blanket. He has the sleeves rolled up, his hands in the front pocket, when he pauses in the doorway. Bruce gestures for him to sit across from him at the desk. He can see the way Damian is bracing himself for a lecture, wondering whatever it is he did wrong this time, as he takes his seat. Bruce, in his chair on the other side, watches him for a moment before deciding this won’t do. He stands, and pulls his chair next to Damian’s and pulls a file over from the other side of the desk.

Wayne Men are at a higher risk of Prostate Cancer as they get older. I get tested every few years. He tells him. My Mother’s side of the family, the Kanes, have a history of Crohn’s Disease. It’s prevalent in people of Ashkenazi Jewish decent. I’ve never had it, or had symptoms, so it’s unlikely that I passed it on to you, but not impossible. And when Damian stares back at him, he leans forward, presses his hand to his son’s shoulder. I want you to know these things, Damian. It’s important that you know your history.

And with any other child, it may have not been a good idea to have this conversation right then. Any other child may have been scared. But this is his son, and Damian is as frank and pragmatic about these things as he is, and Bruce knows that he will appreciate the honesty, knows that those questions have likely been rattling around in Damian’s head for a while now. They spend another hour that night talking about their family, beyond just medical history, and Bruce answers any questions Damian has.

Dick gets worse. Wally leaves to find answers. Bruce is doing everything he can; medical bills are nothing to him, he checks in on his children, calls in favours from the league to keep watch of Gotham when he’s needed at the hospital. It’s the most he’s ever relied on others in his entire life.

It’s just him in Dick’s room one night. He’s at the window when he hears Dick rasping his name. It’s been rare lately that he’s been coherent enough to really speak without being prompted, so he has Bruce’s full attention immediately. He crosses over to the bed, braces a hand over Dick’s. And Dick doesn’t say anything for a long while. His eyes are half closed. Bruce is close to assuming he’s fallen asleep, when Dick’s unsteady hand slides out from under his, and rests on top with a barely there squeeze. Dick is staring up at him. His voice his so quiet it’s almost drowned out by the monitors, but Bruce hears it.

Take care of Wally.

Bruce doesn’t waste time on don’t talk like that sentiments. He doesn’t tell Dick that he won’t need to, that he’ll be fine, because Bruce does not make promises he knows he cannot keep. He nods. He will. Dick doesn’t need to ask him to take care of the family, that much is an unspoken understanding, but if this is a piece of mind he can give Dick, it’s without hesitation.

He ends up at Selena’s door after visiting hours. She buzzes him in, and when she opens the penthouse door neither of them say a word. She guides him over to the couch, pours two glasses of good wine, and when she returns, he’s already got his face in his hand – not sobbing, not breaking down, just… exhausted. She isn’t sure Bruce knows how to break down anymore. In the end, she just sits with him. Rubs his back, tentatively at first, not sure if he’ll let her. Bruce not only does, but he shudders under her hand, allows himself to breathe with her, and it’s enough to let the pressure ease and the ache to come in. He allows himself feel to it.

Because that’s his son. That’s his first son. And he’s failed him.

Years from then, when this is all in the past, he’ll let it slip. It’s over a late night coffee with Dick in the Cave as they wrap up a case, near to the anniversary of the Dick’s surgery. Maybe it’s the string of late nights and no sleep wrecking his inhibition, maybe it’s something he needs to get off his chest. But Dick stares at him, goes quiet, sets down his coffee mug.

You did everything for me, Bruce. He says. You never failed me.

And, someday, Bruce will believe it.

[danielsfilipinolitblog]

Ten Interesting Filipino Novels

Dogeaters by Jessica Hagedorn

"Welcome to Manila in the turbulent period of the Philippines’ late dictator. It is a world in which American pop culture and local Filipino tradition mix flamboyantly, and gossip, storytelling, and extravagant behavior thrive. A wildly disparate group of characters—from movie stars to waiters, from a young junkie to the richest man in the Philippines—becomes caught up in a spiral of events culminating in a beauty pageant, a film festival, and an assassination. In the center of this maelstrom is Rio, a feisty schoolgirl who will grow up to live in America and look back with longing on the land of her youth." (barnesandnoble.com)

2. When the Elephants Dance by Tess Uriza Holthe

"In February of 1945, as American and Japanese forces clash over possession of the Philippine Islands, a family hides with their neighbors in the cramped cellar of a house a few miles from Manila. Only leaving their “sanctuary” for food, water, and medicine, they try to wait out the conflict by telling each other stories and fairytales from Filipino legends. These tales temporarily transport them away from danger into worlds of magic and wonder." (theuncorkedlibrarian.com)

3. Ghost Moon Night by Jewel Allen

"When pirates are caught trying to steal boats in the small Filipino town of Dasalin, they are left to die on the beach as punishment. But unfortunately for the residents of the town, before they died, they left a curse upon the village. Dasalin may be haunted by flying, undead creatures known as langbuan on every night when the moon does not show itself – the Ghost Moon Night." (theuncorkedlibrarian.com)

4. America Is Not the Heart by Elaine Castillo

"Three generations of women from one immigrant family trying to reconcile the home they left behind with the life they're building in America. How many lives can one person lead in a single lifetime? When Hero de Vera arrives in America, disowned by her parents in the Philippines, she's already on her third. Her uncle, Pol, who has offered her a fresh start and a place to stay in the Bay Area, knows not to ask about her past. And his younger wife, Paz, has learned enough about the might and secrecy of the De Vera family to keep her head down. Only their daughter, Roni, asks Hero why her hands seem to constantly ache." (amazon.com)

5. Esperanza Street by Niyati Keni

"Through a series of vignettes, Esperanza Street tells the story of life in a port town in the Philippines through the eyes of young Joseph. At the beginning of the story, he is sent to be the houseboy of Mary Morelos, a formerly rich widow. She lives in a three-story Spanish colonial house at the top of the eponymous Esperanza Street in the town. The lyrical writing style goes well with the poetic prose. As the community gradually collapses around them, there is still humor and positivity to be seen, even as the inhabitants strive to survive and make the best of things. These kinds of books about the Philippines give a subtle yet realistic glimpse into a culture many may not be fully acquainted with." (theuncorkedlibrarian.com)

6. Smaller and Smaller Circles by F.H. Batacan

"Manila, 1997: In one of the poorest neighborhoods of a city with not enough law enforcement to go around, it’s up to two Jesuit priests to put their forensic skills to good use to protect the weak and vulnerable. Enter Fathers Gus Saenz and Jerome Lucero. They take it upon themselves to investigate the recent murders of young boys whose mutilated bodies are turning up in dump heaps across the district of Payatas." (theuncorkedlibrarian.com)

7. Monstress by Lysley Tenorio

"Lesley Tenorio’s collection of short stories follows characters from all walks of life. Encounter B-movie directors, faith healers, child superheroes, leper colony patients, the Beatles, and more. Monstress is equal parts imaginative, heartbreaking, vivid, and intimate – but never boring. Each story has a strong emphasis on character. The reader can make strong connections to protagonists that they have very little time with compared to those that can be found in a full-length novel. Each story covers a different aspect of this Filipino book’s main themes: family, isolation, longing, and the connections we make to people both familiar and unknown." (theuncorkedlibrarian.com)

8. Patron Saints of Nothing by Randy Ribay

"Filipino teenager Jay Reguero is killing time in his final semester of school until he can head off to the University of Michigan when he gets the sudden news of his cousin Jun’s death. On top of dealing with that, what’s also unusual is how Jay’s family won’t talk about his cousin with him. Jay and Jun were childhood best friends. Jay wastes no time in heading out to the Philippines to uncover the truth of Jun’s death. Supposedly he died as a result of President Duterte’s war on drugs, but that’s not the cousin Jay remembers." (theuncorkedlibrarian.com)

9. Shine by Candy Gourlay

"Rosa suffers from a rare condition that renders her mute. She lives on the strange island of Mirasol where the rain never seems to stop. In the gloom of the island, its superstitious residents are haunted by all sorts of fears, and they shun people who suffer from Rosa's condition, believing them to be monsters. So Rosa must live hidden away in an isolated house with its back to the rest of the world, with only the internet for a social life. But Rosa has no desire to leave Mirasol. This is where her mother died and every night she lights a candle on the windowsill. The islanders believe this is the way to summon ghosts, and Rosa wants her mother back. One day she is befriended by a boy online who calls himself Ansel95—and she quickly realizes that this is one friendship that can take place in the real world. Can she really trust him? What does he want from her? And then Mother turns up at the front door. As Rosa's social life blossoms, how will she seize the freedom to be who she really is?" (amazon.com)

10. Project 17 by Eliza Victoria

"Lillian is merely looking for a babysitting job for the summer, but a desperate man named Paul Dolores hires her to look after his 28-year-old brother, Caleb. Caleb is suffering from schizoaffective disorder, and Paul, who is about to start on his first office job in a long while, wants to make sure his brother takes his medication on time. Lillian, at first hesitant, accepts the job for the pay and the perks, but soon starts to wonder about the brothers she is working for. How come she can’t find any information online about the drugs Caleb is taking? And how come the national central database lists them as dead?" (goodreads.com)