fe-leading-ladies-bracket

[cryptidghostgirl]

CHUBBY! READER X ALASTOR

I'm soooo sorry that I'm requesting something else this just came to me and I needed your storytelling expertise to bring it to life 😢

ALSO ALSO ALSO this one has a trigger warning so please read with the thought that YOURE PERFECT!!!😤(if you write it)

OTAY OTAY soooooooooooo reader has been apart of the hotel for awhile and has developed a crush on Alastor from afar and the small instances they do cross paths but hesitates to approach him on her own because well we're shy and HES THE RADIO DEMON anyway reader doesn't have to worry about distance between them because Alastor is AVOIDING HER ALL ON HIS OWN 😯 AND somehow reader gathers the courage to approach Alastor but sees his relationship with Rosie (they're besties, platonic soulmates definitely) and thinks 'wow, she's so beautiful and...thin' and proceeds to lock herself away from everyone (SOLITUDE) and skips meals (starving herself), Alastor is the first to notice shes missin and pulling away but doesn't know how to approach her without stumbling over his words (i like to think that hes a heartbreaker to other women like his fans but with someone that he likes with real feelings hes fumbling in the dark because he could get rejected instead, i will die on the hill) so so so he hesitates to ask reader whats wrong till he hears her throwing up or she says something awful about herself and Alastor gets angry on her behalf and reader goes silent, only for Alastor to take a breath and tell her that 'shes hurting herself, for a shallow reason such as looks', and reader goes 'i thought you liked to watch others downfalls' and then hes like 'not your downfall, never you' 😔 reader starts to cry and shouts "im not Rosie', confused Alastor finally starts putting the pieces together and grabs reader hands and sincerely says "good, i wouldn't rosie anyhow, or anyone else for that matter', reader continuing to cry tells him to stop lying that this joke isn't funny and Alastor kissies her hand as says "whos joking? I only want you, your perfect" then then then slowly Alastor starts to help reader look at themselves in a more positive light [[fit this in somewhere???????Alastor tells reader why hes so close to rosie (he's clueless about reciprocated love so he goes to Rosie because canon that she knows matters of the heart...right?)]]

A/N as always i am obsessed with your request. Also I 100% agree with the assessment of Alastor's ability to talk to people he actually likes. I am literally so obsessed with this request. Also I am assuming from your previous comments you wanted the same bunny demon character?? Please forgive me if I am wrong but I did it for her (because I love her dearly and she is based of meeeee and I'm egotisticalllllll). Kisses bestie <3 <3

Downfall (Alastor x Chubby!Bunny Demon!Reader)

Paring: Alastor x Reader

Word Count: 4,076 (I got a little carried away)

Warnings: BODY IMAGE ISSUES!!! EDS!!!! I think that's it but they're in all caps for a reason so if you have ED issues maybe don't read this one??? It is hurt//comfort tho so maybe do???? Idk. If you get triggered by ed descriptions, don't. If having a fictional character tell you you're perfect the way you are and beg you to stop destroying yourself because they can't bear to watch would help you, do.

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

It had taken months. Months of wondering what he was like, of stolen glances, of furtive daydreams. Months of building up courage, of backing down, months of hoping and dreaming. It had taken endless encouragement from Angel, countless pages in her diary. It had taken a million deep breaths, ten thousand trembles of her hands. Months, it had taken months.

It wasn't like Y/n had never spoken to the man before. That wasn't really the issue. She wasn't scared of him, just scared. The simple idea of being alone with him was an intoxicating mixture of terror and utter bliss. Y/n didn't know how to handle it, she didn't know how to handle him.

Alastor was untouchable, nearly semi-divine in her eyes. Sure, he was fucked up, but they all were. At the end of the day, his facade was as easy to see through as a cheap paper crown from a Christmas cracker. Beneath the wide smile, the sharp teeth, the stories, Alastor was just a man. He cared deeply for the world around him, for the people around him and those in his life. No matter how hard he tried to disguise it, it always shone through to Y/n.

It wasn't like she had never spoken to Alastor before, she had just never spoken to him alone before. Every interaction they had ever had was as a part of the larger group of Hotel residents and staff. On the rare occasion they ran into one another in the hallway or happened to each be in the kitchen at the same time, Y/n froze up. Words turned to stones in her stomach and all she could ever seem to manage was a gentle nod, a shaky smile. It frustrated her to no end.

Finally, she had worked up the courage to talk to him. It was all Angel's idea really, she would never have had the thought to do such a thing on her own but his pushing had been relentless and at last, Y/n had agreed.

And it had taken months, months! This was her third attempt to go up to him. They had even lowered the stakes, Angel saying all she had to do was have a single normal conversation with the man and he would let her off the hook, stop his pestering and teasing. It was just her luck, really just her god damn luck.

Sir Pentious had informed Y/n that Alastor had left the hotel to see a friend, Charlie had given her the address of the cafe he had said he would be at should they need him. Everyone was all smiles, all encouragement. Y/n reminded herself to yell at Angel later for spilling her secret although, she guessed she shouldn't have expected anything else from the hotel's biggest gossip.

Putting on her favorite outfit, her hair all done up and makeup perfect, Y/n had slicked her ears flat against her head in determination and stepped out onto the streets of Pentagram City. It didn't take long for her to find the place, a sweet little cafe on the outskirts of Cannibal Town with white wrought iron chairs and a cheerful pink and purple sign. It hadn't taken her long to spot the bright red of Alastor's suit through the window either, standing out against all the muted purples and dark blacks of the other cannibals enjoying their meals within.

"It's fine. It's totally not weird that you're going up to him in a cafe he's having lunch in with a friend, that you.... oh my god Y/n!! He's gonna think you were stalking him! You should just go back and- no! You promised. Y/n, you can do this."

She took a deep breath, centering herself in that little core, that rod of who she was, that shot down the center of her being. Raising a closed fist to her chest, she shut her eyes.

"You can do this, Bunny." she reaffirmed, "You can do this."

Opening her eyes, she crossed the street. Her hand was inches away from the door's handle, her heart racing but set on what she was about to do, when Y/n noticed exactly who Alastor's 'friend' was.

Across the table from him, sipping delicately on a cup of tea, was the most beautiful demon Y/n thought she had ever laid eyes on. She had long, dainty fingers, thin and spidery, and the most perfectly proportioned body. She was tall, long legs sheltered by her skirt and a tiny waist that threw her hips and chest into contrast. The woman's hair was neat, tucked up beneath a wide brimmed hat. Her clothes were classy, her smile was bright and charming, the black holes of her eyes were... were... were everything. She was everything, everything Y/n wasn't.

Suddenly, the weight of her own body against her bones became all too real. She felt the urge to never be touched again, the same strange sickness of her youth sinking its teeth into the softness of her stomach, her thighs, her arms, all of her. Her hand lowered from the handle, Alastor laughing at something the woman had said to him. He seemed relaxed, more at peace than Y/n had ever seen the man before. If that wasn't love, she didn't know what was.

It took a second for the other residents of the Hazbin Hotel to realize the change. Y/n was good at this, she'd had practice. For years, she had worked to move past it all but the threat of a relapse had always hung over her head. It was her sword of Damocles, her fated demise.

Y/n retreated in to herself, she couldn't get the image of that woman out of her head. Poised, statuesque, thin. God, Y/n had never wanted anything more than she wanted to be thin. She wanted to rip fistfuls of flesh from her body, she wanted to wither away so only something beautiful remained.

Alastor was the first to notice. He had a soft spot for the rabbit demon who always seemed to be full of that soft, discrete joy and unending kindness. She was a more toned down version of Charlie. She was genuine and completely herself, no holds bared. She had such a hope, she had such a goodness, it made him wonder why she hadn't ended up in Heaven instead.

The truth was, behind the bravado and the grin, Alastor was scared of Y/n. He was scared he would touch her and she would rot away or worse, that she would run. She was just so good, so intrinsically wondrous, and he was the opposite. She was a fresh rose and he was the person coming haplessly along with a pair of gardening shears. She was radiant, she was carved fresh from marble, he was down bad.

Women had never been a priority or a problem for Alastor. Living and dead, they flocked to him. He knew his reputation was to blame, not to mention his looks. They could be fun for a while. Alastor saw charming them as a game, a good way to pass the time. This was different, Y/n was different. Alastor didn't know what to do so, he did nothing. He avoided her like the plague and when he couldn't, he practically ignored her, barley spared her a word.

Alastor was untethered, completely in the dark and so, he did what everyone does when they feel like that: he went to talk to his best friend. When he had gotten back to the hotel after his rather illuminating little chat with Rosie, Charlie had asked him if he had seen Y/n. It felt like divine chance, a cruel joke of fate, that the demon Princess would bring up the very source of his problems so soon after having at last pushed past his pride to ask for help.

When he had revealed the truth to the gang, that no, he had not in fact seen Y/n, they seemed deflated. There had been some sighs, some shrugs, shared glances he didn't understand and then everything had gone back to normal except, it wasn't quite normal.

Where Y/n could normally be found causing trouble, making mischief with the people who had so quickly become her friends since she had started her stay at the hotel out in the open, there was now a distinct lack of her jovial presence. She began taking her plates to her room at meals, showing up to group activities less and less, claiming she was tired or had a stomach ache. Alastor noticed every time he did manage to catch a glimpse of the marvelous and strange creature who had captured his affections so, she seemed utterly exhausted. Y/n was always bundled up, even on the warmest of days.

He wanted to go talk to her, wanted to ask her if she was okay. Alastor was worried -- genuinely worried -- about her. The only thing that stopped him from knocking every time he passed her perpetually closed door, was that he knew himself too well. He knew that the minute he entered, he'd lose his courage, that the words would become mush in his mouth.

It was pure chance, right place wrong time, that he heard it. Alastor had been following his normal routine, heading up to his radio tower for a broadcast after a group activity. Today had been Operation Navigation! As Charlie had dubbed it. She and Vaggie had built an obstacle course and everyone had a partner who was blindfolded and had to be guided through. When they got to the other end, the pairs had switched. Miraculously, Y/n had shown up to this event.

Alastor had watched her carefully, noting her sluggish movements and the way it took her a second to fully register what anyone was saying in a given moment. It was out of the ordinary and his worry only grew. He knew he was going to have to do something about it eventually but just didn't know how. Maybe it would require another visit to Rosie.

As he walked past the lobby bathroom, Alastor was pulled from his thoughts. The door was slightly ajar, sending shards of light out into the darkened hallway.

"Why isn't it working!"

Came the hushed yell of defeat. It was Y/n's voice, he'd know it anywhere. Alastor stopped walking.

"Why do I have to be..."

There was a sniff, the sound of something hitting the wall. Alastor realized it had been Y/n at the sound of fabric against the wallpaper. He could see her in his minds eye as she slid down the wall, pulling her knees into her chest.

"Why can't I just be skinny."

Y/n's words were muffled, soft and shaky.

"Why can't I just be pretty. Why do I have to be... to be..." her words were briefly broken by a sob, "why can't I just be good. I can't even fucking starve myself right. I wish..."

Alastor's body reacted before his mind could catch up, he knocked gently on the door. There was a little yelp of surprise from within, a few sniffs and some rustling fabric.

"Yeah?"

Y/n's voice trembled as she tried to keep the tears at bay.

"May I come in?"

Alastor heard the sharp intake of breath. It was too late to back down now. The silence was thick between them, it felt eternal.

"Okay." Y/n agreed at last, her voice small, and Alastor stepped into the room.

It was exactly how he had imagined it. Y/n was huddled on the floor next to the door, her knees tucked up under her chin and her arms holding her shins tightly. Alastor noticed that the thick, woolen sweater she had been wearing earlier had been tossed to the side, laying haphazardly beside the sink. Y/n sniffed again, trying to smile.

"Everything okay?" she asked and Alastor fixed his eyes back on her.

Y/n's eyes were rimmed with red. Her ears lay limply around her face which was stained with tears. Her skin was covered in goosebumps, she shivered.

"No. It's not."

She seemed a bit taken aback by his answer, not having grasped the reality of the cracked door earlier.

"I don't... what's wrong?"

"You are starving yourself." Alastor replied in a matter-of-fact voice.

Y/n's eyes went wide.

"Fuck... I... fuck!" she buried her face in her knees, "You weren't supposed to hear that."

"Are you trying to die!?" Alastor asked,

He didn't mean to yell, he didn't mean to be this angry. Everything he said seemed to send shockwaves of regret through his body. No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Are you... I just... are you stupid?!"

Y/n looked up at him again, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

"I-"

"You what." Alastor scoffed, "You want to be pretty?"

"I..."

"You want to be pretty so you lock yourself away? You make your friends watch as you... as you what, as you get thin? As you destroy yourself?"

She was crying now, truly crying. Alastor looked away, a hand to his head. He took a deep breath, everything was going wrong. When he looked at her again, her cheeks were flushed from a mixture of shame and hurt.

"I just..." he took another deep breath, sinking to his knees before her, "Why would you hurt yourself so badly for something as.. as shallow as your looks?"

Y/n sniffled, frantically trying to wipe away her tears.

"What, I thought you liked to watch other people's downfalls." she tried to shoot back at him but her words came out stuttering and broken through the thickly falling tears.

Y/n refused to meet Alastor's gaze. Everything was going wrong. She was horribly embarrassed, she felt like a butterfly and Alastor was the terror who had opened her chrysalis too soon. He wasn't supposed to see her like this, he wasn't supposed to see her now. He was only supposed to get the after. It was all for him, after all, wasn't it?

Except, Y/n knew the truth of the matter. Alastor had been the trigger but, these behaviors were too well engrained. She might not have known it then, but she'd been looking for an excuse all along. It was all for her, every inch of agony.

His heart dropped at her words. Was that what Y/n truly thought of him? It would make sense, it was the face he presented to the world after all. He had just thought... he had hoped... Rosie had said....

Rosie. That was the answer. She had told him to be honest, to be vulnerable no matter how terrifying such a prospect could be. She had said it was the only way they ever had the slightest chance.

Alastor reached a hand out gently, turning Y/n to look at him. Her skin was soft to the touch, the beating of her blood thrumming against his fingertips. With the utmost care he could muster in his clawed and rotten hands, Alastor wiped her tears away. He couldn't meet Y/n's eyes but heard her sniffle, watched as the flow of sorrow slowed.

"Not your downfall." he said, his words like quiet feathers falling through the air, "Never your downfall."

At last he met her trembling gaze, fear coursing hotly through him, mingling with his blood. She took a few short, stuttering breaths before bursting into tears once again. Alastor flinched slightly as her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

"But I'm not that woman!"

"Woman... what woman?"

"The one you were with at the cafe!"

"The one... Rosie?"

Y/n nodded, sniffiling slightly as she tried to calm herself down.

"You saw me with Rosie? How?"

"I went... I'd been working up all this courage and... I just wanted to talk to you and Charlie and Pen said you'd be there and... and... and I'm not Rosie!"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had been right all along, Rosie was the answer. With the air of someone who hadn't had much physical affection given to them in their life, or received any for that matter, Alastor slowly wrapped his hands around Y/n's shaking back.

"Good."

"What do you mean 'good'? She's so beautiful and she made you laugh and she's just... she's so beautiful and thin!"

"She is beautiful, and a lovely woman but, I don't want Rosie. Or anyone else for that matter."

Y/n's sobs redoubled, she began to struggle against his grip.

"Let me go! Stop lying, Alastor."

Alastor released Y/n from his grasp and she pushed herself back against the wall, utterly mortified and unable to stop. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking away.

"Stop joking, it's... it's not funny."

"Who is joking? I..." Alastor took a deep breath.

Rosie had been right, it was terrifying. He hope she was right on the second part too, that it would be worth it.

"Y/n, have you seen yourself?"

"Yes! Why the fuck do you think I want to be anything else?!"

Alastor got to his feet, holding a hand out to Y/n.

"Come with me."

"No." she mumbled, scooting further away from him if it was possible.

Under another circumstance, he would have chuckled lightly, he would have found her reaction adorable. This was neither the time nor the place and so, summoning his shadows, he transported them both into the darkness of his room.

Y/n looked around, pulling herself to her feet.

"Where... where are we?"

"My room." Alastor sat down on the edge of his bed, "Come here."

Hesitantly, Y/n took a few steps forwards. Once she was in reach, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap. The feeling sent sparks through his body, Alastor tried his best to ignore it. There were more important things than the pleasure of the moment. Y/n struggled against his grasp, the tips of her ears dragging slightly across his arms.

"Alastor! Let me go! I'm too heavy!"

"No, you're quite perfect actually."

"I don't want to be touched! I don't want you to... you're making me want to tear my skin off, please."

"No." his voice was firm.

"Please, just please let go of my waist at least."

To this, he relented, one of his arms falling loosely onto her lap as he held the other up, snapping his fingers. Shadow's flooded into the room, bringing with them a full length mirror. He felt Y/n tense in his grasp.

They came to a stop, setting the mirror on the ground before them. Y/n turned her head away, her eyes shut tight.

"Please stop, Alastor. This really isn't funny."

"Y/n."

"No."

"Y/n."

"No!"

Y/n, please."

She had never heard him say the word before. Slowly, she opened her eyes, craning her neck to look up at Alastor.

"I want you to see what I see when I look at you."

"You promise you wont be mean?" Y/n asked suspiciously after a moment.

"I pinky promise."

He had seen her do this before, with other residents of the hotel. A simple locking of pinky's was all it ever took to make a promise, to assuage her doubts, to show she cared. Y/n's eyes widened slightly. Slowly, she reached her hand out, locking her pinky with his. They shook their hands once, the way Alastor had seen her do it a thousand times before.

"Wait." Y/n said as he made to move his hand away, looking away bashfully, her cheeks a bright pink and her voice quiet, "Don't let go."

"Okay."

Taking a deep breath, she turned to the mirror. It was terrible, she felt bile rise in her throat.

"Y/n, you are so... every inch of you is perfect." Alastor took a deep breath, the way his voice trembled not escaping Y/n's notice, "You have... amazing legs. I know everyone's all obsessed with Angel's but, he has nothing on you walking around on those sticks. You're... you're all soft curves and lace. If you were made of anything, you would be satin. You are a nymph rising from the lakes, a wild maenad in the woods. Your eyes shine like true stars, not what we have here. Did you know rabbits were always my favorite animal?"

Y/n giggled slightly, her tearstained cheeks flushed pink.

"Well they were. They still are. Your ears are just to die for, dearest."

He felt her ears twitch slightly against his back at the comment and Y/n watched through the mirror as his smile softened at it's harsh edges.

"Your grace is what the Greeks wrote about. You... Y/n, the first time I set eyes on you, I felt like I was drowning." Alastor looked away, unable to meet her eyes even through the glass, "Like you were a siren and I was nothing more than a hapless sailor at your mercy."

"But you never talk to me."

"You never talk to me!"

Y/n laughed again, smiling a gummy smile.

"I don't have to talk to you to see who you are, Y/n." Alastor continued, his hand that was in her lap turning so his palm rested gently on her thigh, "You light up any room you're in. You are charming and clever and constantly on the look out for places you can instill your special breed of controlled chaos."

Trembling, he shifted his hand in Y/n's so he held hers, raising it to his mouth. The heat of his breath on her skin drove Y/n wild, her breath hitched.

"I am glad you're not Rosie, I don't want Rosie. I don't want anyone else except for you."

Alastor planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand and Y/n's smile only grew, her tears long forgotten now as she watched Alastor's reflection.

"You are perfect. Please, don't change yourself, don't hurt yourself, trying to be something else. I'd miss you."

Slowly, he let their still clasped hands fall into Y/n's lap.

"Do you see now?"

Y/n turned back to the mirror, her head tilted slightly to one side as she hummed in consideration.

"No." she admitted, "But I think I might be able to start."

"One step at a time." Alastor rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand in comforting circles, "I'll be with you the whole way, if you'll have me."

He held his breath, waiting for her reply. Y/n met his eyes through the mirror, her brow furrowed.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"Who is Rosie?"

Alastor could have laughed, he nearly did.

"She is a very old and dear friend. I was going to her for advice, that day."

"You? Needing advice?" Y/n paused before shaking her head, "Nah, I don't see it."

She laughed lightly at her own joke and Alastor smiled softly back at her.

"It was advice about you, actually."

Y/n turned herself in his lap, looking up at him with her legs on either side of his own.

"About me?"

"Y-yes."

He cursed himself internally. Alastor hadn't meant to stutter, she just looked too lovely sitting there and looking up at him with her pretty pink lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed.

"Well?" she asked expectantly.

"I..." Alastor felt the heat rising in his own cheeks and looked away, "well, I didn't know how to approach you."

"Wait, you were avoiding me this whole time?" Y/n laughed and Alastor nodded, "I thought I was avoiding you!"

"Wait, you were avoiding me?"

His gaze snapped back to hers and she laughed again.

"Yes! I was terrified to speak to you! You're so cool and hot and just... I'm not good at things like this!"

"You think I'm hot?"

"Is that all you got out of what I said?"

"Maybe."

They both laughed this time. Alastor's chest felt lighter than it hand in years.

"So," he began once they had both calmed down, "is that a yes?"

"To what?"

"To letting me... be... with you."

Y/n smiled, reaching a hand up to his cheek.

"That's a 'will you be with me?' I think actually."

----

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170

A/N Y'all, there were one or two times I almost wrote my name while doing this one. I've been writing x reader fics for eight years, this never happens to me anymore. I think I related a little too hard. I am x reader fic writing too close to the sun.

[sundrop-writes]

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you. 

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why. 

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you. 

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had. 

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons. 

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot. 

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible. 

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot. 

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth. 

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance. 

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained. 

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you. 

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different. 

… 

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!” 

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment. 

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room. 

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled. 

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.” 

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom. 

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back. 

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.) 

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued. 

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.” 

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone. 

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice. 

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.” 

Jason’s face fell flat. 

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next. 

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice. 

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!” 

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter. 

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.” 

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you. 

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction. 

… 

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth. 

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you. 

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips. 

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light. 

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport. 

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself. 

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down. 

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back. 

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass. 

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology. 

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week. 

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’. 

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were. 

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him. 

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick. 

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic. 

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive. 

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up? 

… 

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols. 

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate. 

It was harmony. 

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night. 

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you. 

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself. 

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills. 

Jason chuckled. 

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented. 

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled. 

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.” 

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement. 

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin. 

That. That must have been the moment. 

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy. 

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left. 

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free. 

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice. 

Him or the Titans. 

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you. 

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay. 

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans. 

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me. 

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you. 

He let you go. 

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize. 

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that. 

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day. 

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team. 

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears. 

… 

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death. 

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge. 

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night. 

…

Jason knew that he should have left town. 

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason. 

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so. 

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did. 

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap. 

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences. 

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer. 

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat. 

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles. 

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled. 

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant. 

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point. 

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous. 

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!” 

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’. 

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly. 

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something. 

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother. 

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.” 

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion. 

“Where uptown?” He asked. 

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.” 

Jason glared at him. 

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-” 

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.” 

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this. 

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed. 

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to. 

He should listen to that voice. 

He should leave town. 

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him. 

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up. 

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.” 

Jason turned back around then. 

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever. 

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look. 

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped. 

It was you. 

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face. 

You were terrified. 

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system. 

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth. 

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen. 

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth. 

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.” 

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap. 

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified. 

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl. 

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.” 

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl. 

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time. 

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you. 

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you. 

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!” 

… 

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage. 

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face. 

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him. 

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was. 

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you. 

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice. 

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles. 

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup. 

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free. 

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him. 

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!” 

“Wh-?” 

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs. 

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek. 

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-” 

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way. 

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.  

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension. 

“What?” Jason gaped. 

This was the last thing he had been expecting. 

He was saving you - why were you questioning him? 

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?” 

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.  

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder. 

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you. 

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.” 

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt. 

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming. 

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him. 

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating. 

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?” 

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?” 

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed. 

“Why?” You prodded again. 

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go. 

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?” 

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever. 

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted. 

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night. 

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something. 

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears. 

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him. 

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him. 

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares. 

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you. 

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat. 

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know. 

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it. 

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther. 

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do. 

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words. 

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard. 

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth. 

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now. 

… 

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button. 

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.” 

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next. 

… 

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest. 

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before. 

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. 

He did hear it. 

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled. 

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap. 

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on. 

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again. 

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety. 

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge. 

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system. 

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you. 

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight. 

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left. 

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air. 

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished. 

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt. 

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen. 

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?” 

You couldn’t answer him. 

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke. 

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still. 

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do. 

All he could do was hold you. 

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor. 

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.” 

Jason simply wept. And he held you. 

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled. 

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[jymwahuwu]

hi! It's my first time sending ask so I am a bit nervous hehehe... What do you think about small breast darling? Will Jingyuan loves them? I want to heard your opinion about this, thank u! 💖

Hello 🤗💓 Thank you for sending. Don’t be nervous, here are Jing Yuan’s thoughts on small breast darling. I really think Jing Yuan will accept darlings of all body types as long as he falls in love😹

-CW: yandere, non-con, abuse of trust, nipple stimulation, overstimulation, mentions and some descriptions about lactation

✧- If this were to describe other people, it might seem disingenuous, and as if they don't have an opinion of their own. But- Jing Yuan's acceptance and worship are all based on love, and his openness is extraordinary. He adores darlings of any body type. This is also reflected in the preference for breasts.

✧- Jing Yuan noticed that your small breasts were small and exquisite, flat, and covered by a layer of fabric. He stopped himself from peeling off the obstructing piece of fabric.

✧- On a quiet afternoon, the raindrops wet your shirt. The clothes absorbed the moisture and clung tightly to your skin, revealing the lines and structure of your bra and breasts to the world. Jing Yuan is your considerate friend, providing warm tea and shelter from the rain. He had a lot of self-control so he didn't start jerking off.

✧- He ordered some bunny and kitty bras in your size from an online store. Don't dig into why he knows your exact bra size. By the way, Jing Yuan ordered matching underwear.

✧- Until one day, the preparation is completely completed. Seize the opportunity and flip your bra up immediately. You exclaimed, covering your nipples with your hands in panic. "Jing Yuan…!? What are you doing?" Firmly but gently fixing your hands on your head, prohibiting you from any resistance.

✧- Poor you, you always thought Jing Yuan was a trustworthy friend/general before this.

✧- Finally get a close look at your nipples. That is a wonderful experience that cannot be replaced by any number of photos automatically sent by the surveillance system. Your areolas tremble, stiffen and bulge under the gaze. Lovely flat hills. "Don't look - don't look at me like this!" You struggled awkwardly, your breathing quickened and your eyes flickering.

✧- Being caught up in a storm of desire without explanation. Your nipples were being caressed, sucked, rubbed and swirled by his thumb, occasionally given a light pinch. Those sensitive nerve endings continuously transmit pleasure to your mind, "Don't-don't…" You moaned, your waist bounced up, your legs rubbed against each other restlessly, and the petals were glowing with water.

✧- Refuse to have any part of your body other than your breasts touched…for now. Like a lion who has found a favorite toy, he teases his little rabbit and attacks. You threw aside your dignity for a moment, letting out some high-pitched moans and your vagina twitching, begging for his cock to come in. Not allowed. Nipple orgasms are the only thing you get for hours.

✧- "Stop touching… no more… can't…" You express your meaning intermittently, desperate and helpless, not knowing why Jing Yuan is so obsessed with your breasts. You feel like there's nothing left to get wet, you're drained - but at the same time the deep, wet marks on the quilt continue to grow.

✧- When that cock invades and expands your soft and warm walls in accordance with your "will", it does not mean that your breasts are ignored. A pair of custom-made bunny vibrators are glued to your nipples, the wet slaps humming along with the mechanical sound. You twitched helplessly.

✧- When sowing seeds, Jing Yuan is daydreaming about the day when your small breasts will secrete milk. By then your nipples will be swollen, and the smooth and sweet milk will be pumped out… The breast pump will be ready now.

✧- For those who don’t understand the charm of small breasts, Jing Yuan’s point of view is: Lost pearls are usually covered in dust. Their ability to see one of these colors is permanently lost throughout their lives.

[ogsherlockholmes]

The Hound of Watson's Grief

I made a post a few weeks ago about how all of the Holmes stories could be interpreted as Watson's imagination in order to compensate for his loneliness (sorry for putting that idea in your heads) and I wanted to expand on that by focusing on The Hound of the Baskervilles. So, prepare for some inarticulate rambling which I hope will make sense.

One of the things that has always struck me about this particular story is ultimately how different it is from the rest of the canon: not just Holmes' noticeable absence in the mid-section, but the emphasis on Watson's description and the supernatural features. Although these can still be seen in the other stories, The Hounds of the Baskervilles still seems to exist separately from them, and I have a an idea why this is.

The Hounds of the Baskervilles, as a story, was never meant to be. Holmes was dead- ACD was proud to announce that. He had rid himself of the so called 'great detective', and could focus on more historical serious novels. But, alas, he thought of an interesting story line, and could think of no other way of conceiving it without help from Holmes. So, Holmes was prematurely resurrected, without any form of indication that he was actually alive, or if this was D Watson writing up his notes, or if the audience should just suspend their disbelief and read the story as an undefined prequel.

Realistically, that is about all there is to say about the premise of The Hound of the Baskervilles: the story just is, and we have to accept that. But what of THotB is purely a work of fiction, including within the realms of the fictional world of Sherlock Holmes? In some ways, THotB could be read as Watson finding an outlet for his grief for Holmes.

Firstly, Holmes' absence: not just in the story, but in Watson's life and in the public's life. Holmes was dead, with no chance of return... supposedly. He had died offstage, with no witnesses, apart from the man who died with him, so no one could check with him if Holmes was actually dead. For Watson, the only proof he had of Holmes' death was a letter, with no body to bury; for a man who had spent so much time with someone so furtively based on facts, I can't imagine that that would have felt right to him. Holmes was dead, but where did he die? It's reasonable to suppose that Watson went through a stage of denial, believing that Holmes was still alive. Of course, he couldn't admit that to the public (like so many other things... the unreliable narrator that he is) so he would need another outlet. So, why not write a story involving Holmes? Maybe Watson began writing, including all the quintessential characteristics of Holmes (his quick deductions, sarcastic quips and his effortlessness in complimenting Watson), but then the realisation of his friend's death dawned on him. Watson looks back on his work, and remembers that he now must solve mysteries by himself. Holmes is busy elsewhere, and Watson is alone.

Watson begins a tirade of long, flowery descriptions (in the words of Holmes "cut out the poetry, Watson") which are usually skipped over in the shorter stories. We are fully immersed in the gloomy Dartmoor with its "tinge of melancholy", and the introduction of an escaped prisoner: Selden, the Notting Hill murderer. This feels like compensation for Watson forcing Holmes' logic in the earlier chapters, almost as though he's trying to build another story for himself. The addition of the Baskerville legend also seems more alligned with Watson's interests than Holmes: overall, THofB becomes more of Watson indulging himself in a fairy tale than reporting facts, as Holmes would prefer.

Still, Watson is just as dutiful as ever, writing letters to Holmes, but receiving little response. Again, this might be a parallel for Watson's life: he wishes to communicate with his late friend, but hears nothing back. Here, Watson might be doubting himself again: he's obsessing over Holmes' death, so much so that he can't be sure he's even dead. A glimmer of hope: maybe Holmes is alive, and he's out there, waiting to come back. Watson mentions "the figure of a man upon the tor", the "tall, thin man" which is undeniably Holmes: he allows himself this fantasy, to the point where he explicitly states this idea when he reveals that Holmes has been with him in Dartmoor all along, but hiding away from him. But, he can't be too certain, so Selden (who could be seen as a mirror to Holmes as he is confused with Holmes as being the figure on the Moor) is killed off as soon as Watson finds Holmes. Again, Selden is killed offstage and by falling off an edge, which sounds familiar...

Now, Watson has his Holmes back, in theory. He ends the story by describing Holmes being involved in other matters which he doesn't provide too much detail on, as per usual. The story was quickly and almost effortlessly resolved, with the antagonist, Stapleton, seemingly dead but the protagonist, Henry Baskerville, saved. I don't think it is too much of a stretch to say that Stapleton and Baskerville are Moriarty and Holmes substitutes, respectively (Stapleton's academic backgrounds and unusual characters; Baskerville's assertiveness, Watson's detailed descriptions of his movements and appearance, the implication that Selden's death was originally confused as his). So, here is another instance of Watson applying the narrative he wants, almost as though he's manifesting Holmes' resurrection.

I've thrown many ideas together which can probably be easily disregarded, but I tried rereading the story with this perspective, and I think it helped me make sense of certain aspects of the story which never sat comfortably with me. Although I'm not claiming to know the true reason why ACD wrote THotB, I do hope that you can understand the point I'm trying to make.

[hollow-prior]

3 Criminally Underrated Musicals (And why you should listen to them)

1) The Mad Ones

[Image Description: Kerrigan and Lowdermilk's The Mad Ones. It shows an empty road disappearing into the distance under a starry sky. Full ID in alt text. End ID.]

You know that feeling of driving fast down an empty road with the windows down, the wind whipping through your hair? You know that feeling of being able to do anything you want, like the world is right at your fingertips, just waiting for you? You know that feeling of sitting in the middle of the woods with a good friend and thinking about how incredible it is that you live on the same planet at the same time?

Well, this is that feeling.

The Mad Ones is about Sam, who just graduated high school, and her friend Kelly, who died in a car accident before she could graduate. It's about Sam's journey in remembering Kelly and learning to live in the moment without her. It's also about freedom, and expectations, and living life to its fullest.

Also it has the phrase "kidnapped by aliens with enormous genitalia". What's not to love?

Seriously, this is one of my all time favourites and it has a very special place in my heart. I love to listen to it on those rare days when everything seems to be falling into place and it feels like life is actually going somewhere.

From a writing perspective, this is just an incredible masterpiece. The lyrics just stir something in my soul and the friendship between Kelly and Sam is just <33333 (Heart). It deserves so much more love than it gets.

2) The Lightning Thief

[Image Description: The cover of The Lightning Thief: The Percy Jackson Musical. It shows a blue brick wall with a yellow glowing lightning bolt symbol against it. Full ID in alt text. End ID.]

Okay, so the books are iconic and the movies sucked and the TV show is looking good but everyone's been sleeping on the musical for far too long. I had my doubts at the beginning too, I'll admit it, but honestly this slaps.

Although it isn't an exact one-to-one with the books, the vibes are spot on which is the most important thing anyways.

Percy is a sarcastic little shit, Annabeth is a total smartass, and Grover is... well, the impossible-to-explain awesomeness that is Grover Underwood. As funny as it is, though, there are some moments that just hit you right in the feels. The Tree on the Hill, anyone? My Grand Plan?

Also the Luke reveal gives me literal chills every time. It's so SO well done, much better than any other depiction in my humble opinion.

The whole thing is just an excellent balance of feels and humour and has some truly iconic lines. Case in point:

Percy: "Grover, you're a good friend." Grover: "Awwww. Dude, I'm your only friend."

Mr. D: "Oh, you're alive. I suppose that's good news for you but it means a lot more paperwork for me, so don't expect me to be happy to see you. Of course, being alive is temporary..."

Luke: "The Hermes cabin takes anyone who hasn't been claimed. You know what that means... we're literally the reject cabin. Welcome to the dysfunctional family!"

[Literally just the entirety of Luke's part in Their Sign]

Grover: "You hurt his feelings. Tell the squirrel you're sorry." Percy: "I am not saying sorry to a squirrel." Annabeth: "He's very sorry. Tell the squirrel you're sorry, Percy."

Alright, anyways! This is the Percy Jackson website, right? It's great, just listen to it.

Moving on!

3) 35MM: A Musical Exhibition

[Image Description: The cover of 35MM: A Musical Exhibition. It's a red background with a black, ink-like camera design from above. Full ID in alt text. End ID.]

God, how do I even begin to explain 35MM?

There's so much going on here in the best way possible. It's not a traditional musical, at least not in the way people immediately think of musicals.

The idea behind 35MM is that there's multiple separate songs, each based on a photograph. That said, there are some theories about the level of connection between the songs and if they're even connected at all. Either way, it's absolutely incredible.

The songs all have different themes including babysitting a murder doll, a homicidal prom queen, a vampire love story, the young love car crash tragedy that lives in my heart forever, and many more! If you're a fan of the strange, unusual, and vaguely unsettling, this is the musical for you.

Although the fandom is small, it's incredibly dedicated and there are some truly wonderful animatics on YouTube to check out as well as some theory threads on Tumblr, Reddit, and basically anywhere else if you look hard enough.

I made the mistake of accidentally introducing my English professor to this musical so now you all can be introduced too!

And now some honourable mentions:

Islander

Islander is an acapella musical done entirely by two women. It tells the story of an island nation that was split in half long ago, with two girls (Each from one of the halves) meeting for the first time. It has a super cool Scottish folk song-style of music to it and just an incredible plot.

Jekyll & Hyde

Jekyll & Hyde is the musical adaptation of the famous gothic story. It's intense and dramatic in all the best ways and I Need to Know always sends shivers through me. The voices are incredible and it's just AHHH!! Wonderful! Also Confrontation is a work of art and nobody can tell me otherwise.

36 Questions

36 Questions is kind of unique in that it's a podcast musical, meaning that there's no stage performance. In the most basic terms, it's about two people trying to fix their marriage with the whole '36 questions to help strangers fall in love' type thing. Part of one of the songs, For the Record, was a popular song on TikTok a few years back so it may be somewhat familiar to folks. Either way, worth a listen!

[kirkirk]

Merch lines that might be plot relevant for Azusa (Part 1)

I love DL's lore, especially Azusa's, I think it's so complex and well-written so I thought this could be fun. I'm still playing the 5th game and I'm avoiding spoilers like the plague so my knowledge is just based on my 1829934738 Azusa theories. Please remember to be kind and take this as a fun resource/thought exercise if I'm blatantly wrong with any of my takes.

These are in no particular order, also I might do another part because there's no way I'm fitting every single plot reference here.

1. Vampire Lab Azusa

I'm starting with this one because it's one of the most obvious. They were absolutely crazy for doing it. Ignoring all of the franchise's references to human experimentation, him being the only one actually strapped (Yuma also has a straight jacket but his is open) is really interesting. Especially since the description for this set mentions 医者に反抗的な態度をとる者、(Those who show a rebellious attitude towards doctors). I can't help but think they're referencing Azusa and that's why he's strapped. Still, it could always be a reference to his struggle with mental health. The interpretation you choose is up to you.

2. Yammy Yamme X Bad Blood Azusa

He and Kanato became the family models for this one. If that isn't a big alert sign I don't know what it is. This set is themed around gamers/gamer aesthetic. What is the players' stand-in in DL? A pink bunny. What is his backpack? A pink bunny. His cap also has droopy ears that could be another reference to bunnies. If interpreted very loosely, this could mean that "Azusa carries the player on his back" and that's so freaking funny because true. Of course, I think its meaning is deeper than that.

3. Vandead Carnival LE/tokuten chibi (?)

If the player is a pink bunny I wonder what an extremely sad blue bunny would mean...

I had to do it I'm so sorry, I will die on the Azusa is a trapped player hill. (No spoilers about whether this is confirmed or refuted please 😘)

I found this one in Vandead Carnival's visual book but I don't know if it's exclusive from it or it came from elsewhere.

4. Secret Display Azusa

God I love this one so much. The sad expression, the accessories, the pins, the color scheme it's peak Azusacore on their behalf. This set is about butterfly taxidermy and that's basically a direct @ to ZERO Azusa which follows the same theme. Despite having a personal interpretation for this, I have yet to listen to ZERO Azusa's CD so I will keep it to myself. Any interpretation you give to ZERO Azusa might be reinforced/ related to this set.

5. Secret Memories Azusa

WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH 5 BOOKS.

Hidden gifted kid Azusa is my Roman empire, I love that so much for him. It's true that you could attribute his disgusted expression to not wanting anything to do with those books, but I interpret it as him disliking being SEEN with them since he's looking at the camera and not at the books, like come on what are you doing with that many books.

I could talk about this for hours (and I have) but for now I'll be stopping here since I don't know if anyone is even remotely interested. I have enough for a few more parts so maybe I'll turn it into a YouTube video so it's more enjoyable to watch. If you have any questions or want me to expand on any of these ideas please feel free to send Asks. Just keep it spoiler free for content after Lunatic Parade please I'll be very very sad if you don't :)

[shift-shaping]

The City of Wycome, circa 9:41 Dragon

Made this map of Wycome so I can keep track of where my characters are when they're in the city in my fic, raven. there is very little information available about what wycome actually looks like, so I made all of this up based largely off this map of boston from 1775 because i know how big boston is and i needed a city you could reasonably walk the most interesting parts of in one afternoon. we otherwise know wycome is at the mouth of a river in the free marches and is considered the revelry capital of thedas. some fourth blight stuff happened there. it has an alienage, distinct districts for nobles, human workers and merchants, and the duke, and probably not a circle of magi. aaaannd that's it. I made the rest up whole cloth.

descriptions of each district below the cut

Dockside - Where most of the city's human population lives. Mostly dockworkers, rope-makers, and fishermen. Dorian would call it a shithole. It is Isabela's favorite part of the city. Absolutely bumping at night in certain parts. Slowly sinking into the marsh, but at a manageable rate.

Alienage - Where all of the city's elves live. Dense, stuffy, and generally unpleasant. It was once called 'Backwater Marsh' because it is built on a poorly-filled swamp. As a result, it is slowly sinking into the water. Homes are built tall and narrow as flooding is a regular part of life. The long spit of land is called Long Wharf and it's actually a pleasant place to walk when the weather is nice (which is often, it's a mild climate).

Gadus Market - Biiig fish market. Everyone shops here, including the servants nobles send to buy food. Fun fact: 'Gadus' is the genus name for cod. Pretty fun place if you don't mind the smell of fish and so much yelling all the time. Built on much more stable ground than the nearby Alienage.

Castle Magnolia - The Duke's estate, full of beautiful and well-maintained gardens, elaborate apartments for guests and family, statuary, and a suspicious number of tunnels. Built on stable bedrock rising out of the surrounding delta. Usually quiet, but the Duke's parties are absolutely legendary. Lady Volant's temporary apartment is located in the southwest part of this district.

Beacon Hills and Old Orchard Lane - Also fairly stable land. Home to the city's nobility, as well as some empty buildings that used to be occupied but now are sort of haunted. Don't worry about those. This district (or these two districts, depending on whether you consider the more wooded Old Orchard Lane separate from Beacon Hills) is known for a thriving culture of art and drinking. Old Orchard Lane is home to the Wycome Conservatory, a very expensive school for well-connected, musically-gifted young people to drink a lot of wine and get even better connected. Lately something has been very wrong in this district, but the Duke would really rather you didn't think about that.

Parade Street - A whole street just for parades? Obviously! This is also where many businesses have administrative buildings, and some housing for what might be called a 'middle class' if you squint and tilt your head.

Fort Garahel - The somewhat small headquarters of the Wycome City Guard, named for the hero of the Fourth Blight. The elves in the Alienage see the irony in the name. The guards don't.

Feel free to use for whatever, no credit needed, so long as you don't claim you made it yourself.

[dragonfly0808]

Musa’s Discography Pt. 1

Yes, I spend way too long thinking about stuff like this about my characters leave me alone ajajajjaaa

But srly like 2 people have asked me about this and I’ve spent way too long thinking about what Musa discography would actually be like so… here is her discography with a way too detailed description of why I chose each of the songs, I had way too much fun with this.

First EP. Written in the later half of s2 and before s3 published in the summer between s2 and s3

I had no specific ‘theme’ for this one, just songs I felt fit Musa’s mentality and would be cool for her first project

For the first EP, which consists of:

The Beginning by Madison Beer.

I just really love this intro it’s a gorgeous showcase of vocals and it’s beautiful and perfect.

I Hate the Way by Sofia Carson.

I love this song. Musa would base if mostly off of Riven’s epic screw up in s2 ch27. Also the guitar solo part feels perfect for her.

Whispers by Halsey.

I can’t quite explain why but this song is so Musa-coded to me. At least my version of her. She builds walls up and tries to not care and fails miserably every time. Also touches slightly on the depression that she def never adressed before going to Alfea and meeting the girls

Run and Hide by Sabrina Carpenter.

I feel like this song fits Musa’s mentality in s1 and part of s2 perfectly especially when it comes to romantic love. ‘Started thinking love’s a loaded gun, nobody wants to fight’ ‘If you can’t hide run, if you can’t run hide’ ‘I don’t wanna run I don’t wanna hide’ it’s just perfect for how she used to think and I really love the idea of her writing this precisely as she starts to let go of that mentality

favorite crime by Olivia Rodrigo.

This would be a more story-telling type song written with Helia cause I feel like putting those two together they would absolutely go full story tellers and poem-like lyrics and this feels like smth they would absolutely write one night they couldn’t sleep cause they love a good sob love story

Ribs by Lorde.

Written about the Winx and the Specialists with a sprinkle of dreading growing up

Second EP. Written during the first half of s3, published right before Winter Break

This one did have a slight ‘theme’ to it since it was mostly written while she was fighting with Riven over secrets on both sides and she was very frustrated with herself and projecting a bit on him.

Hard to Love by Rose.

This feels very Musa-coded to me. She has that instinct of ‘oh shoot I’m loved? Fucking run for the hills!’ But more like… again, she builds walls. So I can see her writing this one night very frustrated with herself like, why am I like this?

Rock Bottom by Hailee Steinfeld.

I love this song and I feel like it suits Rivusa so perfectly in the first half of s3 ‘We’re on the right side of rock bottom and I hope that we keep falling. We’re on the good side of bad karma, cause we keep on coming back for more. We’re on the right side of rock bottom, and to you I just keep crawling. You’re the best kind of bad smth, cause we keep on coming back for more.’ Literally them at this point before they learn to properly communicate. Also ‘what are we fighting for? Seems like we do it just for fun.’ Love this song

Monster in Me by Little Mix.

Another song that suits them when they’re at rock bottom. ‘Touch me, why don’t we kill each other slowly?’ ‘The monster in me loves the monster in you’. Def can see Musa writing this when she’s frustrated with herself and Riv cause she knows why they’re both screwed up but can’t quite figure out how to get past it

when the party’s over by Billie Eilish.

This was when, for a moment Musa considered just calling it quits cause she wonders if maybe they’re both too fucked up to make it work and she wrote this whilst in depression. She also realized that she was hurting him by picking fights and not being honest and wrote this in response to that realization

Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift.

This one was also co-written by Helia, they went for another story-telling not-to-be love story.

False God by Taylor Swift.

Another song that feels oh so Rivusa-coded to me. Like, cmon this is one of those songs that played in the back of my head every single time I had them argue in s3 and feels like the perfect song to end an album all about fighting the one you love

Winx Rewrite Masterlist

Part 2

[caeli0306]

20 questions for writers tag game!

tagged by @widebrimmedhatsblog and @hockeyspiral23

Total number of AO3 works

Nine!

2. Total AO3 word count

287,489

3. Fandoms I've written for

Empyrean and that's literally it lol

4. Top 5 fics by kudos

Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal, castles crumbling, Tales from the Airport Bathroom, Did Someone Say Shots?, and Did Someone Say Vacation?

5. Do I respond to comments?

Yes! Sometimes it takes me longer to get to them, especially if I get a lot within a short period of time, but I always respond to comments.

6. What has the angstiest ending?

definitely the present, the past, and you in between. That was the first one shot I ever wrote and I still get comments of people being iike "bro why did you do that???"

7. What has the happiest ending?

All of my fics (except for the one mentioned above) have happy endings if they're done, more or less! If I had to choose one, I think it would be VSGTSAS.

8. Have I received hate?

Yes, once, but honestly in my line of work I get so much online hate that I just find it funny. I wrote a very sarcastic response and moved on. One of the reasons I love this fandom is because its super positive and accepting, so why dwell on the single outlier I've come across?

9. Do I write smut? And what kind?

Yes, and as of now just Riorgail

10. Do I write crossovers?

Unless you count the Top Gun AU I've been working on a crossover, then no. I think trying to mix worlds and characters would get too confusing for me, so doing an AU based on another world is about the extent for me.

11. Have I ever had a fic stolen?

As far as I know I have not! Hopefully it stays that way.

12. Have I ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have I ever co written a fic?

I have not! I feel like it would be fun though

14. What is my all time favorite ship?

Riorgail. They are my Roman Empire.

15. A WIP I'll never finish?

So I will always maintain that I will finish everything I start, but if there is any story that I think has a chance of not getting finished, it's Swan Song. I haven't had the inspiration to write it for a while, and my backlog just keeps getting longer. I hope I'll get around to finishing it eventually, but it won't be for a long time.

16. Writing strengths?

I've been told that I write angst well, and that I'm good at writing tension between characters. Personally, I think my ability to research (thank you journalism) and write things as close to realistically as I possibly can is my greatest strength. Not kidding when I say I had a 15 page document of job descriptions for senate office staffers that I got from a friend who works on the Hill back when I was working on VSGTSAS and that bad boy was open the entire time I was writing chapter 4.

17. Writing weaknesses?

I think I struggle to describe movement and action in a way that isn't repetitive, and sometimes my writing sounds a bit robotic (thank you journalism). I also think sometimes my sentences can get a bit convoluted.

18. Do I like foreign language dialogue?

I'm not sure - I don't think I've read any fics with that.

19. First fandom I wrote for?

Empyrean!

20. Favorite fic I've written?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child. I'm going to include Violet Sorrengail's Guide to Spinning a Scandal and castles crumbling because I love them both and they are both my favorite.

I'm tagging @skyfallscotland, @suebswrites, and @witch-and-her-witcher (unsure if any of you have already been tagged!)

[canineical]

[Image Description: A zine in an 8-page layout.

The first page displays the title of the zine “Nature Where You stand” in big letters. Around it is a collage of plants— a mix of old photos and line-art of leaves and flowers. It is separated from the title text by a solid, squiggly line.

The second page reads “For my birthday, my uncle got me a book with a pretty cover: Root & Ritual”. The book’s title is written below and bigger than the rest of the text, and has a simple line-art drawing of a sprout on one side and a line-art drawing of some sort of grain on the other side. There are also four simple stars surrounding the book title.

The third page reads “I was interested, but also intimidated. Knowing the natural world intimately felt so… out of reach.” The words ‘out of reach’ surround a drawing of a hand reaching out to the top right corner of the page.

The fourth page reads “So I treaded with care through the book, hoping to explore a new language. I knew I felt connected to the land, but felt so lost on how to interact with it.” In the bottom right corner, there is a doodle of one side of a small, rocky hill.

The fifth page reads “When it talked about foraging, it reminded me that dandelions are edible, something that felt familiar and accessible. Suddenly, foraging wasn’t just hiking endlessly.” In the middle right section of the page, there is a small line-art drawing of a dandelion— the yellow kind, not the fluffy kind.

The sixth page reads “Once I tried one, a whole world opened up. I started seeing plants and wondering if they were edible or poisonous or maybe just gross. I tasted white clover and learned to avoid petty spurge.” On the bottom of the page is a line-art drawing of petty spurge leaves, and a white clover flower sticking out in front of the leaves.

The seventh page reads “I’d known that humans and ‘civilization’ aren’t separate from nature, and can’t be treated as such, but I’d never felt it. Nature is all around me, and I can engage with it all.” At the bottom of the page is line-art of a tuft of grass, some flowers, and cabbage sprouting from the ground.

The eighth page reads “Curiosity has bloomed, and there is so much more to learn. Try + let it bloom for you, too.” Below that, there is a dashed line, which has the words “by Xalli, 4 May 2023” underneath it. Underneath those words is the Instagram logo next to “desertfirelight,” the Substack logo next to “palmlungs,” and the Tumblr logo next to “baringteeth.” Best to those usernames is line-art of a little bird with a word bubble that says “Ty for reading!” /End ID]

hi there !! this is my first ever zine called Nature Where You Stand, about connecting to the earth and realizing that we are not as separate from the natural world as we feel

you’re free to turn your screen over and over to read this on your device, or you can print it out and fold it into a zine, using only one sheet of paper. linked in these words is a little visual & word-based tutorial on how to do it

it’ll look like this (though hopefully a bit better, if you have a nicer printer than i do) !

[Image Description: A photo of a hand holding a printed-out version of the zine, where the zine is slightly open so you can see the cover and a little bit inside of one of the pages. /End ID]

of course, fold where the page visually ends and not just where it should end, because i’m certainly not practiced enough at zines to get it too accurate...

you’re absolutely free to print and keep or even distribute or trade this zine-- just please don’t cut out my name or socials !

[lady-pug]

say "night-ie night" and kiss me

Chapter I of Dream a Little Dream of Me

Summary: You keep on visiting a strange town, one you’ve never been to before. You wanted to know more, to know more why you were here and why you kept coming back, so you decide to do some exploring. Maybe you could start with the castle on the outskirts of the town.

Pairing: Morpheus | Dream of the Endless x Reader

Word count: 1,3k

Warnings: none

Notes: This is me trying my hand at writing something with very little dialogue, relying on heavy descriptions. I don’t really know if this is a good strategy, but I ended up liking it a lot so decided to keep it like that. The descriptions are heavily based on Vincent Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’ and ‘Starry Night Over the Rhône’, and also the song ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader's gender not specified

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

The breeze was soft on your skin. Warm and cold at the same time, enveloping you like a loving embrace. Above your head, the stars shone brightly against the dark blue profound sky, paired with the chirping of a few birds perched on a tree somewhere nearby. 

You had never been here before. That is before a few weeks back when you started coming here on the regular. The problem is: you had no idea where ‘here’ was. Every night you’d come here, to this small town bathed in starlight, and wander around aimlessly, no actual destination in mind. Small houses littered the cobble stoned streets, a tidy church near a café as your point of reference. Once you even traveled far enough to find yourself at the side of a river, the street lights reflected on the surface along with the stars. A couple wearing hats, holding hands and standing near two sailing boats, smiled and waved at you as if they had known you your entire life.

It honestly felt like someone transported you into one of Van Gogh’s paintings. You once even passed by a vendor selling sunflowers. Most of the people seemed to recognize you, but you had no clue what their names were. Most seemed friendly enough, a few looked like they were a second away from ripping all your possessions from your hands, and some, although less frequently, stared at you with sneers of disdain, as if they were proud to know something you didn’t.

Today was no different.

The lovely lady at the café near the church waved at you, her bright smile putting you at ease. You walked down the street, sending the old man at the bar a quick wave, prompting a friendly wink back your way. You might not truly understand where you were, but you’ve come to appreciate it. A constant in a life full of uncertainty was a nice change for once.

When you reached the school, most kids turning in their seats to eye you curiously through the windows, you decided to take a different route. Walking through a maze of alleyways and larger streets, seeing less and less people each corner you turned, eventually led you to a deserted road, no houses bordering the hillside. 

Strange. 

Glancing upwards to the top of the slope had you feeling something new, a mixture of dread and curiosity. A tall, dark and ominous structure, shaped like a castle, stood high and mighty before you, almost like it was overlooking the city. How come you had never noticed it before in all your visits? You balanced your options, curiosity overcoming the dread, and started the track up the hill, the stars as your sole companions.

You walked, and walked, and walked. Something didn’t seem particularly right. Glancing down at your feet, you noticed the stones under them, differently from what happened around town, were all the same. A sense of nausea had you looking up again, only to notice the castle seemed to be the same distance as before. That was impossible, however, as you had walked for several long minutes. Staring straight ahead you tried walking, running even, but the more effort you made, the further away the castle seemed to get.

Suddenly the wind picked up, a swoosh of air coming from above, like a flutter of wings. No, it wasn’t the wind. A raven was flying over your head, past you and towards the castle that stood tall in the dark.

That feeling of dread returned tenfold, making you turn on your heels and start running down the same way you came. You ran, overexerting your lungs, legs burning as adrenaline pumped in your veins. The sound of your sneakers hitting the stone pavement was the only sound you could hear along with your rapid breathing and the thumping of your heart right in your ears. You didn’t stop until you were back inside the café, in the safety of what was known to you. Well, relatively known.

“Oh, dear.” the friendly lady, who happened to be the owner of the establishment, turned to you when you came to a halt in the middle of the place, hands holding your knees as you tried to regain your breath, a concerned expression crossing her eyes “Are you quite alright?”

When you didn’t answer right away, still shaken from your encounter with the mysterious castle, she led you to one of the tables, sitting you down on a wooden chair.

“I’ll bring you some water to calm your nerves, what do you say?” she smiled, trying to send a wave of calmness your way “Or perhaps you’d like some coffee? I have just brewed some. On the house.”

You smiled at her kindness. 

“A coffee would be nice, please.”

She went out back to retrieve your drink and left you alone with your racing heart, its beating yet to slow down. The hairs on your arms and on the back of your neck stood up, and the looming sense that someone was watching you consumed you whole. Looking around the café you were met with the same people who you always saw when walking by: a couple out on a date, an elderly woman with a small dog on her lap, a man in a hat who looked like he hadn’t slept in days, a man dressed in all black… wait, that was new. 

You looked back towards the man and sure enough, he was staring right at you. Pale complexion and light eyes, the man was dressed in black clothes, a long overcoat completing the look. His sharp jaw and high cheekbones made him look powerful, almost regal in a sense, and dare you say… beautiful. The only thing about him that softened his features was his dark, messy hair. He seemed like someone important, imponent, but for some reason he didn’t scare you. You almost felt… peaceful in his presence. 

Your thoughts about the man were cut short when a large ceramic cup filled to the brim was placed in front of you.

“Here you go, dear. A nice cup of fresh coffee should do you some good.”

“Thank you.” she started walking away when you called her, catching her attention “Hey, uh, excuse me?”

She nodded for you to continue.

“What is that castle at the edge of town?”

“What castle, dear?” she asked, confusion lacing her tone.

“The tall dark one at the top of a hill.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if assessing to see if you weren’t playing tricks on her.

“There is nothing around the city other than mountains on one side and the river on the other.” she smiled again “Why don’t you drink your coffee, dear, before it gets cold. I’m sure you’ll feel better afterwards.”

As she walked away once again you were left to wonder. Had you imagined it? No, you were pretty sure you had seen a castle. And a raven. You couldn’t possibly have imagined that, now… could you?

Taking a sip of your coffee, you almost spat it right back out. It tasted awful, it tasted like… nothing. It was hot, sure, but it had absolutely no taste whatsoever. You took another larger sip, at the risk of burning both your tongue and your throat, and still nothing. You couldn’t taste anything. Bringing the cup under your nose you frowned. It smelled like coffee, strongly so. If it smelled like coffee, looked like coffee and was warm like coffee, why didn’t it taste like coffee?

Raising your head, you were about to call the owner again to ask about the tasteless coffee when you noticed the same man from earlier still looking at you. His eyes were mischievous, his lips only barely tilted up in what seemed like the world's tiniest smirk. 

Narrowing your eyes at him you went to stand up and confront him, ask him why he wouldn’t quit his staring. Your abruptness made his face harden again, a hand raising under his chin. You only managed to take one shaky step in his direction before, with a snap of his fingers and something uttered under his breath, you were sitting up with a startled gasp on your bed.

Dream.

It was all just a dream.

[books-with-jules]

I NEVER PROMISED YOU A ROSE GARDEN

by Joanne Greenberg

Psychology, Dark, Emotional, Slow-Paced

★★★★★(4.75)

i never promised you a rose garden is a slow-paced, semi autobiographical novel in which Greenberg gives her readers insight into the schizophrenic mind of teenage girl, Deborah Blau in approximately 1948 to 1951, written originally in 1964. Many describe the story as Deborah's three-year battle with schizophrenia, but it really is specifically the confrontation with her inner world, understanding its roots, and understanding that there is a world beyond that she can be a more present part of. She has battled for much longer than three years, but this book is watching her regressions and recoveries as she understands herself and her place.

The writing style and vocabulary used was eloquent and college-level, and painted a vast outer and inner setting, which was very important as the character's state of mind and mental space is an important part of understanding the plot. The plot is realistic in terms of the non-linear road to mental "unsick" and health. The story is character driven and, in tandem with the plot, of course, complex and rocky. I love the psychiatrist, Furii, and I thoroughly enjoyed Miss Carol's appearances throughout the story, and there are no characters who I feel could have been developed better. Everything felt well done and tied together very well. The ending was perfect; I only wish we got to see a little of Deborah's family relationship dynamics and how they change with her resolution.

Reading a novel about a teenage girl with schizophrenia and getting to see some of the inner workings from an author who has experience with the illness as someone who lives with it is unique to read because a lot of time the portrayal is based on second hand experience and, like autism, may reflect all of the negatively viewed traits, rather than show every aspect objectively. My own personal quarrel with the mental illness part is as an unlicensed, book-educated reader, it seems as if Deborah is actually suffering from a delusional disorder of sorts, not of schizophrenia specifically, but the book was written in 1964, and as I've said, I am not a licensed professional and cannot give official input.

The writing style gives a feel like the author learned or mostly communicated in English in college-level or professional settings and, likewise, used complex language that made reading a bit tricky to navigate and retain at first, but I learned many new words, so that's a plus. The writing flowed smoothly and the way Greenberg described everything felt prose-y in some places and poetic in others. Her descriptions made for intricate visualizations and much empathy with all the emotion with her language.

The plot is very much character-driven, being that we are following Deborah's road to mental stability. I appreciate her struggle to come to terms with many of her beliefs that she came to understand were characteristic of the inner reality she's lived for so long and breaking away to find her footing in reality as someone without strong delusions understands it. She gets better and she gets worse. She moves on from being a slave to her own mind and creations to taking more control and also asking for help when she feels she is losing it. We see her regressions and her recoveries, and there is more than one hill to climb because progress is never linear, not in the real world. The plot is beautiful and terrible. It is a great, intense read.

I've never been in a mental hospital or rehabilitation center, so I don't personally know of the customs, but Greenberg does a beautiful job of explaining and reiterating the social norms of the wards, what behavior is "allowed", not "allowed", How different life seems in the wards and what life in the "real world" looks like from inside those doors. I can understand the mental aspect of life looking different for everyone else versus the patients, who see hope for it as useless, who don't understand that it has its ups and downs, and who see returning patients as sort of failures. Bouncing between wards is different from being out in the world and hospitalization, but "B" wards are a bit afraid of patients who make it back down from "D" ward. As I said, I don't know from experience, but reading this work really put me in there and made me understand exactly what it was like at that time. I don't know if there is a better book to help someone comprehend inpatient in midcentury USA, the turning point of psychology there.

I have a deep appreciation for Furii, Deborah's psychiatrist, for her depression understanding of how to navigate the sessions, work around Deborah's episodes and temperaments, which can make talk sessions very hard with her mind sometimes clouding or outright blocking her from talking about her made-up world and all its secrets. However, Furii, as long as both she and Deborah both felt like Deborah was not a lost cause and wanted to get better, Furii is determined to help Deborah work through all of her symptoms and find healthy coping mechanisms to replace them. The relationship is beautiful, well-meaning.

I think my favorite character is Miss Carol. She is described to be an old, white-haired, 90 pound woman who can launch mattresses during her episodes. She's an accomplished woman, a mathematician of sorts, I believe, and a returning patient. There are a few examples of returning patients and their places in life outside of the hospital. These examples serve as eventual realities that Deborah faces of having mental illness and understanding that progress isn't linear (this is a favorite theme of mine in this book and in life). There is also Doris Rivera, who we are not told how she makes a living or what her life looks like. We, the readers and the characters, only know that she was the goal and envy of the ward, and her returning brought a doubt to the ward about getting better and being part of society because of the expectation that you get better and you stay better. Deborah then makes a friend, Carla, who is a returning patient and, after becoming an outpatient and a returning patient, herself, understands the struggle of conforming and keeping up with life, stresses, and other regular, recurring issues in everyday life.

There was this understanding of not asking people why they are there, not asking returning patients why they had to come back, and not having prying conversations without the other being explicitly willing to give this information. Life is an experience that cannot always be conveyed in words. It was more like they had to live it to understand why they were returning. Again, progress isn't linear and while the patients probably understood this, or at least some of them who have went back and forth from the wards, within the confines of the hospital, life also works in this way and they could not ask, and the patients would not have the words to answer at that time.

All in all, i never promised you a rose garden, by Joanne Greenberg, was a beautiful piece of literature and I am glad to have read it. The theme of healing and regression really urges the reader to take a look at themselves and do some inner work of their own. I know I had to do some inner work along with this reading, and am grateful for it. The ending was not wrapped in a bow, happy, and satisfying as a "happily ever after" story, but an intense and reflective read as someone who struggles with their own symptoms and disorders. The only reason this novel got 4.75 stars and not five is because there was a lull where I was not compelled to pick up the book about four or five chapters away from the end, but that is a personal feeling and should not truly reflect upon the author.

[kimmiessimmies]

Changes

A brand new town (sort of) feels like a new beginning, so I decided to make some changes.

This is a looooooong (text)post, but here's the short version:

TL/DR: I'm going give my story a title (below you can vote for what you think the better title is) and I'm going to start posting my updates to Tumblr in full. Want to know more? ⬇️

1. A story needs a title

Those of you who've been following me for years know that I've undergone some style changes. KimmiesSimmies, both on WordPress and on Tumblr, started out as a gameplay blog. I visited my Sims, played for a  bit, took pictures, added a few lines, and that was my (non-)story. Pretty soon, a shift started to occur. Even though gameplay remained my main focus, there was usually a theme, a story-like idea which played out. While my Sims led lives that ran as a thread through the tales I created, these could also easily be read as standalone stories about a prom, an athletic festival or a summer camp (I do miss Windiwell 😢). This shifted further when I wanted to write out more significant ideas, such as the story of a runaway girl (Go, Martha, go!) and what would happen to her. I couldn't possibly fit all that in one story update, so it became more extensive. Characters evolved, and my mind started working overtime, constantly coming up with new ideas. After a five-year pause (life got in the way) during which my mind never stopped coming up with new ideas, I decided to write my stories down and then go in game to take the pictures to support my story. And with that I had gone from "gameplay-based" to "story-based". Now, the stuff I write aren't standalone stories anymore; it's all part of one big story about the Sims of Honeycomb Valley (and The Hills), where everything is connected somehow and always ongoing. And a story needs a title. Which is why I decided "KimmiesSimmies" is just not fitting anymore. This will remain my username (because that's my public identity) and the address to my WordPress blog, but the story in itself will get an official title. After a loooooot of thinking, discussing and web searching, I've narrowed it down to two possible titles, and I would like you to give your opinion (yes, you, one of the six people who are actually reading this entire essay).

The options are "A Taste of Honey" and "Life with a Drop of Honey". The honey bit is important because I will never stray from my bee/honey theme. That's everywhere, so it should be in the title as well. "A Taste of Honey" is, in my personal opinion, more catchy. However, it's not unique. It's the title of a Beatles song and a movie from 1961. Now, I haven't seen this movie, but I looked it up, and the genre description was "drama, LGBT", which did make me chuckle, but with the current state of my story, those keywords are pretty fitting. "Life with a Drop of Honey" is unique but makes less of a statement and isn't as memorable, I think. So, please let me know which you prefer! I'm not promising this will be a democratic choice; I might go against the grain and pick the one with the least votes because it feels better, but I'd still like to know what you think.

2. Bringing the story to Tumblr

(Are you still here, reading this? Wow, I'm impressed! 😄)

Until now, I've posted my story on my WordPress blog only and made a post containing some pictures and a link to my WordPress blog here. Now, some people actually click through to my WordPress blog to read the full story (and if you're still here reading this much-too-long post, you're probably one of those people, so thank you for that ❤️), but many click like and move on, which is fine. However, someone I've come to consider as quite my closest friend (and therefore wouldn't lie to me) and who's a very excellent storyteller herself (and therefore knows what she's talking about) recently convinced me my story deserves to be read. So, after going back and forth on this, I've decided to start posting my story updates (since it's all part of one story, I will refer to them as either updates or chapters instead of stories) on Tumblr as well as on my WordPress blog. I haven't quite figured out the details yet, but I think I'll post a link to the full post for all those who want to read the whole update in one go (like I did up until now) and post the story in parts over the following days for those who'd rather read on Tumblr. My WordPress blog will remain "home base" where story updates, sim bios, and town tours live together.

So, that's it! Changes! Couldn't I tell that using fewer words? Probably. But I've never been one to keep things brief...

[outofangband]

updated environment of Western Beleriand part one

Flora, fauna, geography and environment masterlist

Disclaimer: I used both what we can extrapolate is likely indigenous to the region based on descriptions of the landscape and climate as well as my own headcanons and inspirations and reference books on similar habitats as well as books like The Atlas of Middle Earth and The Flora of Middle Earth

Please feel free to ask about any of this, it’d very much a brief overview

Important note: this post is meant to be about the environment in canon with some of my own ideas! That being said Tolkien had obvious bias in his environmental imaginings and I love to explore Beleriand as inspired by other locations! Please feel free to send requests for that!

-Western Beleriand was divided from the East by the River Sirion. It faced the sea to the West.

-Western Beleriand encompasses the coastal regions of Nevrast, the Havens of the Falas and Arvernien. It also includes the landlocked region of Nargothrond, Brethil, parts of Doriath and the woods of Nuath. Some maps and accounts also include Hithlum though this is often considered a region north of Greater Beleriand.

-The River Sirion has two tributaries in western Beleriand, River Narog and River Teglin. Both of these have tributaries of their own.

-Narog was the Southernmost tributary and was one of the largest rivers in Western Beleriand and is the largest of the tributaries to the River Sirion

Ginglith was one tributary to Narog, sourced in wells in the small forest of Núath. It bordered Tumhalad on the West and met Narog some ways North of Nargothrond.

Ringwil, another tributary to Narog was sourced from hills around Nargothrond and ran through the forest Taur-en-Faroth. It was tiny.

-Teglin/Taeglin both met the River Sirion on the borders of Doriath, Teglin flowed from the West through Brethil. Teglin was one of the larger tributaries and had several of its own.

-Celebros meaning ‘silver foam’ was a tributary to Taeglin. It met Taeglin on the western border of Brethil and ran through the forest. At the gorge of Cabed-en-Aras (leap of the deer) near where Celebros met Teglin, Glaurung was slain by Túrin and Niënor took her own life afterwards. The ravine was renamed Cabed Naeramarth or the leap of dreadful doom. 

-Maudlin, meaning Golden River, was another tributary to Teglin and ran Northeast to Brethil. Glithui was the third tributary to Teglin and began in the Ered Wethrin from around Amon Darthir. On the other side of this mountain, the source of Nen Lalaith was located.

--One estimate from The Lost Road puts the region at 99 leagues across at its widest but this is not considered Canon and Tolkien often had difficulties in his numerical estimations

My own thoughts!

--Given the descriptions of the region and the different habitats, it is likely a temperate region with temperate coastal parts. That being said, the descriptions are often vague enough that the environment of many different real life places can be explored through it. For example, a Mediterranean climate would fit many of the coastal regions, and Mediterranean forest and scrublands could fit the more inland regions. In real life examples of this can be found throughout coastal Europe, parts of Asia and north Africa, and parts of Australia and New Zealand

-Parts of the river Narog flow underground and have species not found elsewhere in Beleriand outside of the deeper realms of Angband rarely considered by its own inhabitants. On a similar note, Nargothrond is one of the main places outside these deeper parts of Angband (not including marine life) where bioluminescence is found. There are a few bioluminescent species in Menengroth, Nan Tathren, the caves of Nevrast and western Dor-lómin, and Nan Emloth as well. 

 -West Beleriand consisted of lowlands and bottomlands (the usually flatter floodlands along a watercourse), plains and hilly areas and moorlands. There were also more scattered forested areas and woodlands, as well as the denser Forest of Brethil. 

-Resources, imports and goods differ from region to region but overall some of the most prominent resources are timber, clay, wool, orchard fruits, flint, and salt.

-Due to the coastal areas some of the most prominent and advanced shipwrights, cartographers and navigators, and fishers are also found. Many of the coastal communities have studied and mapped the stars as well (I think I have something about this on my post and Barad Nimras)

-The climate was mild though humid without either harsh winters or hotter summers. Colder fronts did occasionally arise from the Encircling Mountains however. The coastal regions, especially around Nevrast, are somewhat warmer and gentler. 

-Biodiversity is highest in coastal regions and in the surrounding marshlands.

[f0xgl0v3]

CAMP JUPITER MAP-

A new fire has been lit inside me, that fires name is spite and Vanilla Coke.

After having to think and consider the sheer amount of balls dropped when in relation to Camp Jupiter, I am no longer going to try and fit my map to Camps perceived, described, layout. It just- it is just hurting my brain, and I’d want it to be somewhat more accurate to how actual Roman Legions had camps to fit into my perceived image of Camp- and therefore it is totally not a canon compliant map, that is taking into consideration camp descriptions.

It is going to be a map mixed from actual Roman legion camps, my mental image of camp, buildings that are mentioned in the canon that must be there, buildings that feel stupid to not be there (*ahem* some sort of medical center, I know it’s probably in Probatio’s journal but I don’t have the mental capacity to read a book where they name the daughter of Janus, JANICE! Though I like the artstyle, it looks pretty nice.)

But yeah, I’m a little upset, or uh, fired up- a mix of getting to talk about the absolute lack of world building and character building and consideration put into the Roman’s has caught up with me. And i still have to figure out New Rome stuff but New Rome makes me upset so CAMP!

Camp is nicer to my brain because Camp doesn’t give me questions like, “what are food producers doing, does New Rome get food from mortal farms. Is American government aware of the Camps existence??” Which is a can of worms I do not want to open in any way shape or form, therefore camp gets to go first because it’s easier to just research actual proper Roman legion camps and not whatever we are fed in the books (like the lack of description on general size of camp, I have no perception on how big any building is, it confuses me. Where Temple hill may be- seeing as we manage to pass the FIELDS OF MARS on our way from Camps main area to the Temples; Hazel and Percy can see them building the War game fort while walking to the Temples which does a whole different thing for mapping, AND NOT CONSIDERING THE CONCEPT OF ALL THE TEMPLES JUST BEING IN THEIR OWN AREA, AND ALL OF THIS BEING IN THE BAY AREA)

Okay, I am upset, I am worked up- I will be now going to my paper, best of luck to me, because I’ve tried this 75 times but now that I’m not worrying about canon hopefully this will be better.

ALSO THERE WILL BE A POST ON CENTURIONS. OR JUST POSITIONS OF POWER IN CAMP, BECAUSE REVELATIONS HAVE BEEN MADE THAT JUST LEAD TO MORE WEIRD QUESTIONS AND THE PRAETOR HIGHEST RANK CHOICE IS CERTAINLY A CHOICE THAT WAS MADE AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT IT BASED ON MY BASIC KNOWLEDGE-

Okay, have a good day^^

[lulubelle814]

Regards, Loki - Chapter 33

Master List

Sigyn: I still can’t believe you insisted on paying for my dress.  It’s too much!

James laughed, glad he sent her to the best shop.  Misha really knew what she was doing.

Loki: I did it because I wanted to.

Sigyn: You have to let me pay you back.

Loki: It’s my treat.

Sigyn: But I have to do something!

Loki: If you really want to do something, you could send me some of those goodies you keep teasing me with.

Louisa laughed at his response.

Sigyn: That is something I can definitely do.  Have you found what you’re going to wear to the gala?

James took a deep breath.  The tailor he went to didn’t really understand the theme of the gala (as he had never seen the movie), but he took note of the description of the suit that was given and drew a sketch of it while he was there.  Once James approved, the tailor got to work, saying it would take him a week to get the base of it down.  James would need to come back to ensure the measurements were correct before he could finish it.

Loki: It’s coming along well.  I have a fantastic tailor.

Sigyn: That’s great!  

Loki: Any hints as to what your dress looks like?

Louisa laughed.

Sigyn: You’ll just have to wait and see.

James laughed at her response.  He wasn’t really expecting her to tell him what the dress looked like and was content to wait until the night of the gala.  It wasn’t seeing her dress that he was anticipating either.  It was finally getting to meet her, the woman he’d fallen for over emails and texts.

Loki: That’s fair.

Sigyn: It’s not something I ever thought I’d get to wear.  It’s not like the dress in the movie.

Loki: It doesn’t have to be.  As long as you love it, that’s what matters.

Sigyn: It’s beautiful.  I’m afraid to even breathe near it.

Loki: I bet you’ll look stunning.

Sigyn: I hope so.  How are you holding up in the aftermath of what happened at your company?

James sighed.

Loki: It’s a mess.  I have a team helping to get things sorted out.  Legal finalized the charges.  With insurance and such, it could take months to get it all resolved, but the people on the team who are working on this are fantastic.  It’s made my life so much easier.

Sigyn: I’m so glad.  I know it’s taken a huge toll on you between that and your ex.  I wish there was something I could do to help.

Loki: You already are.  You’ve listened, provided advice, and you even sent me treats.  I couldn’t ask for better support.

He knew that wasn’t the entire truth.  He wanted more.  He wanted Sigyn there with him, holding him, consoling him, and just being there with him in person, but he couldn’t tell her that, at least not yet.

Sigyn: I feel like I could have or should be doing more.  You’ve got all that going on and you’ve been helping me on top of that with everything that’s happened to me.  To say you are a good man is an understatement.

He sighed.

Loki: I try, but I am very far from perfect.

Sigyn: No one’s perfect.  Absolutely no one.

Loki: I have a small thing I would like to confess.

Sigyn: What’s that?  You’re not about to tell me you're a Nigerian prince or something…..

James laughed at that remark.

Loki: No, darling.  I’m incredibly nervous that when we do meet that you’ll reject me.

Sigyn: You, sir, are a very stupid man.

Loki: Why do you say that?

Sigyn: I feel the issue is the opposite.  That you’ll see me and go running for the hills.

Loki: Somehow, I doubt that.

Sigyn: I’m also a very bad dancer.

Loki: Somehow, I doubt that as well, but we’ll manage.

Louisa was glad to know he had confidence in her dancing even though they’d yet to meet, but his response inferred that he could dance.  And if he could dance, then he should be able to lead her in a dance or two as long as she doesn’t trip and fall on her face.

Sigyn: Please just don’t let me fall on my face, not in front of everyone.

Loki: I will do my best.

Louisa started thinking again about the baker’s job at the cafe, and the nerves from it stacked on top of the anxiety of meeting Loki were becoming too much.

Sigyn: What if I fail?

Seeing the text, he knew this wasn’t about the gala.  She was an amazing baker, and he knew she’d quickly become popular.

Loki: But dear, what if you fly?

She knew he was right.  Before she could respond, her phone pinged again.

Loki: It’s okay to be nervous.  It’s a new adventure.  And personally?  I think you will excel more than you think you will.  

Sigyn: You really think so?

Loki: I really do.

Taking a deep breath, she sent a message to Brad and Chad, asking if she could test out baking for their cafe to see how well it went.  Only seconds later did she receive an enthusiastic yes which helped her feel better.  Loki’s idea to do a test run rather than a full commitment was genius.  

Even though it was late, she decided to bake at least one or two things to help calm her nerves.  Checking what she had in her cupboards, several things were pulled out, and the mixing began.  Two hours later, she had 1 ready with the other still in the oven.  As she was pulling the last pan out, there was a frantic knock at her door.  Once she put the pan down safely, she went to see who it was and found an extremely excited Chad.

“I’m so glad you said yes!!”

She chuckled.  “Technically I said yes to a test run.”

“That’s still a yes.”  His nose went up in the air.  “What are you working on?

She led him to the kitchen to find a few goodies, and Chad helped himself.  She didn’t even bother to try and stop him.  “I made those for your cafe.  Well, really, I made them to try to soothe my anxiety, but they’re also for you and Brad to put in the cafe if you want.”  He furiously nodded while stuffing his face.  “That is, if there’s any left for your customers.”

He looked up at her.  “Probably a good idea.”  He stopped eating the goodies.  “Cora told me you guys figured out the dress?”

She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture.  “They’re doing a couple of alterations, but it’ll be ready in time.”

“A fabulous dress for a fabulous lady!  I’m excited to see you in it.”  He hugged her.

“Oh!  Hall pass came in again today.  So yummy!”  Chad gave a wistful sigh.

“Was he with that lady again?”

He shook his head.  “Nope!  He looked pretty upset.  But even his upset face is hot.”  Chad used his hand to pretend to cool himself down.  “If things don’t work out between you and the god of mischief, we should set you up with hall pass because if I can’t have him, at least I can oggle him on a regular basis.

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss @jaidenhawke