#here with another Mess™

[milf-murdock]

Nightmares

(Simon “Ghost” Riley x 141!Reader)

Summary: You’d always avoided spending the night with Simon, quick to make excuses and get out of there soon after your passionate and enthusiastic bouts of mind-blowing-sex.

One night, you accidentally fell asleep. And Simon finds out what you’ve been hiding.

Warnings: Soft Ghost™ should be his own warning ☠️ nightmares, comfort

It was practically routine at this point, you showing up at Ghost’s room, sneaking across base under the cloak of night. There was always a false pretense ready to go—oh, just a quick form for the Lieutenant to sign. Just need to go over one last detail of the mission—though you seldom ran into anyone asking too many questions.

Ghost was always waiting for you.

What started out as a single night of poor judgement, nothing more than blowing off steam with a squad-mate, quickly delved into something much much more. It happened as gradually as walking from the shallow end of a pool into the deep end: slowly, and then all at once, Ghost’s feet were out from underneath him and he was treading water. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he craved your company. And clearly, you felt the same way, if the way you tapped on his door night after night was any indication.

Seated on the edge of his cot, Simon took another sip of his bourbon, a rare treat he stashed away in his quarters for nights such as this, trying (and failing) not to look at his watch.

21:05. You were late.

Simon wouldn’t say he was waiting for you, per se. But he wasn’t not waiting for you. His thumb traced a drop of condensation running down the glass.

Tap. Tap. Tap. There it was: the signature three knocks.

It wasn’t intended as a code of any sort, but it had become a sort of running secret language system between you two.

Tap. Tap. Tap. I’m here again.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Let me in again, Ghost.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Come see me, Simon.

Ghost took a final sip of his bourbon before placing the chilled glass on the coffee table in front of him and pulling down his balaclava.

As he opened the door and your frame came into view, Ghost tried to pretend he didn’t notice how his heart racing as he took in your subtle beauty. His eyes raked over you from head to toe, drinking you in, committing your face to memory as if he hadn’t just seen you the previous night. Maybe he was going mad, but Simon could have sworn that the hours between each visit felt like they were getting longer and longer, despite you showing up at his doorstep at promptly the same time every day.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him, and for the first time Simon noticed the signs of exhaustion tugging at the edges of your eyes. You must not have been sleeping well, he thought to himself.

“Sorry I’m a bit late, lost track of time trying to wrap up this last report,” you continued, stepping over the doorstep.

“S’fine,” Simon assured as he helped you out of your coat. “Glad you made it.”

It was routine: taking your spot on Simon’s bed, your lips finding his as the small talk dwindled down. The unending waves of pleasure as Simon devoured you, thrusting into you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. The two of you collapsing into a sweaty, tangled mess, panting for air in the aftermath.

Simon tugged you into his side, letting your head rest on his chest as he cupped the back of your head, keeping you firmly in place.

“Fucks sake, love,” he panted out. “That was incredible.” Still deep in that post-orgasm haze, a small nod and hum of agreement was all you could manage as you tried to coax feeling back into your shaking legs. Lost in a moment of pure tenderness, Simon tentatively pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was so so tempted to ask you to stay the night, just as he had been for the last several nights. And though the excuse differed from night to night, the gist was always the same. “Sorry, Si. I can’t.”

Just as he was finding the wordsto convince you to stay, Simon noticed the soft snores coming from you and the steady rise and fall of your chest.

This was new. You fell asleep.

Perhaps it was the lingering exhaustion from your last mission, or the intensity of the two back-to-back orgasms Simon coaxed from your body, or the soothing sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear as you laid on his chest, but for the first time, you fell asleep in Simon’s bed.

Simon smiled to himself in the dark and pressed you in a little closer, his hand trailing up and down your back. He hated to admit how nice this felt. How right it felt to hold you in his arms. And in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder what on earth had stopped you from doing this before?

It didn’t take long for Simon to fall asleep with you in his arms. Your steady breathing and comforting weight on his chest were quick to lull him to sleep, tonight already proving to be one of the best nights sleep Simon ever had.

There was a whimper in the dark.

Simon’s eyes fluttered open. Another sound, and his exhaustion-riddled brain was still trying to fit the pieces together when he felt the twitch of your body on top of him.

You were having a nightmare.

The realization dawned on Simon as another soft cry escaped your lips and you subconsciously pressed your face into Simon’s chest. He carefully brought up a hand to your shoulder, giving you a gentle shake. “Love?” He whispered into the dark. “Wake up, it’s just a dream.” His voice wasn’t used to taking on such a gentle tone. You let out another whimper, and Simon felt his heart cleave in two. He gave another firm shake of your shoulder, his voice growing louder. “Sweetheart, wake up.” You gave a final cry as your body twitched and you pulled your head up. Your breathing came in ragged gasps.

“Easy,” Simon coached. “Take it easy.”

You moved to sit up, Simon following suit, his hands resting on your shoulder in an attempt to ground you.

“Fuck,” you rasped out. “Fuck, I didn’t mean—“ you were cut off by another gasp, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes as the panic from your dream escalated into panic in the present, mixing with the embarrassment at the display unfolding in front of Ghost. “I didn’t mean for you to see that, to see me—“

“No.” Simon cut you off, his hands wrapping around your wrists and gently pulling them from your face. “No, love, don’t say that. Just breathe for me, yeah?” He released his grip on your wrist as he sat back, surveying your trembling form. You inhaled sharply, trying your best to do as he asked.

“Atta girl,” his low voice filled the space, calming you down even further. “Gimme another.”

You took another breath, finally feeling your heart rate start to slow down.

“Simon, I—“ you were cut off again, this time by Simon’s lips pressed gently against your own, just a quick peck, a motion meant to soothe, not to interrupt your stabilizing breaths.

“S’alright, love.” He murmured. “I get ‘em too.”

You nodded your head in understanding. You should have guessed. After all, you both had your fair share of traumatic, nightmare-inducing missions together. That’s to say nothing about the more personal hardships you had each endured outside of your time in the 141.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding staying the night?” Simon took a shot in the dark, his voice was reserved, trying not to pry too hard for fear of you becoming even more of a flight risk. He couldn’t explain it, but he had this deep seated feeling that if he let you leave just then, you might never come back.

You gave a solemn nod, the thought occurring to you too late that he might not even be able to see the gesture in the dark.

“Thought so.” Simon sighed, raising a tentative hand to brush against your shoulder. This kind of touch was new to him. And to you. You bristled for a second at the sensitive touch, before caving in. Later on, you’d blame it on the midnight haze, still half drunk on sleep, the adrenaline from the too-real nightmare, the safety of the dark room. But you felt yourself slip into Simon’s grasp, strong arms folding you into his body.

You were unsure at first, stiff in his arms, before finally succumbing to the motion and leaning into his form. Simon gently lowered the two of you back down on the bed, making sure you were back in your original spot against his chest. “C’mere,” he muttered, a hand pressing into your back to pull you even closer. “I've got ya.”

It was an unspoken agreement in that moment, a truce of sorts. A line of vulnerability had been crossed and the shift in the atmosphere was palpable. There was no going back. Not for you. Not for Ghost.

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

[jinkoh]

the sun goes down

but it will rise again tomorrow

yunho x fem!reader

summary: things with yunho started as a means of comfort, you were in love with someone else after all. but why was it feeling like more than that?

tags: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, smut, unrequited love, sorta rich kid!au, also college, also beach, yunho has a tragic back story™, alternating povs (mostly yours); warnings: alcohol consumption, family issues, blood/injuries

wc: 6.2k

listen to: walk off the earth - summer vibe

a/n: writing an atz fic was definitely not on my bingo sheet but here i am and why is it 6k : D it's kind of a mess but it'd be a waste not to post it when it's already written. it's my first ateez fic so pls be gentle with me 👉🏻👈🏻 also i did hongjoong kinda dirty in this, i humbly apologize 🙇🏻‍♀️

It was too warm, your skin sticky with sweat, and Yunho wrapping his arm around you from behind didn't make it any better.

“It’s too hot to cuddle,” you complained, shaking your shoulders to get him to back off, but Yunho didn’t seem bothered. 

“Then let’s not cuddle,” he mumbled into your neck and you could practically feel his grin against your skin. His lips left a trail of kisses on your spine, slowly moving from your nape to your exposed back. 

"Again?,” you sighed, but you’d already closed your eyes, letting him continue his soft ministrations. It felt good, despite the heat in his attic bedroom. “I really shouldn’t let you call me up in summer."

"It was already summer when we started this arrangement, though."

"Maybe we shouldn’t have."

"Don't say that,” he nibbled on your skin, “What would I do without you?”

“You could look for someone else. And I could lay in my bed, in my room that actually has an AC.” Why he didn’t have one was beyond you, especially since you remembered his parents being well off. Then again, this tiny apartment above the surf school didn’t really reek of money either.

“Well,” Yunho shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind doing it at your place.”

“But I would mind.”

“I know,” he hummed, his arm on your waist making you turn around to him, “so you come here instead, and complain the whole time.” He pecked your lips, “But you just can’t stay away.”

“It’s convenient,” you argued with a little frown that got lost in another kiss.

“No, no, you just can’t get enough of me.”

“If that makes you feel better,” you replied, pushing him onto his back and letting him pull you along to sit on top of him.

“What really makes me feel better,” he said with a grin, his hands finding your hips to make you grind into him, “is this.”

"Perv," you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his lips as you felt him getting hard under you again. He honestly had more stamina than was good for him, or you.

"As if you're one to talk, I can literally feel how wet you are. I know you're excited too," he let his hand wander a bit from your hips, his thumb ghosting over your clit and making you shudder, "It's a good thing we didn't get dressed yet."

"If you know then stop teasing."

"No way," he grinned, his thumb flicking over your still sensitive spot again, "that's the best part."

You let out a needy whine, impatient for more. You rolled your hips in an attempt to get some friction and it drew a soft groan out of him too, but then his hands tightened around your hips, making you still.

"Come on," you complained, remembering the way he'd edged you relentlessly just half an hour ago and not too fond of the idea of being kept waiting like that again, "haven't you been mean enough to me already?"

"Aww," Yunho cooed with his stupidly pretty doe eyes looking at you, "you poor thing. All needy and impatient, hm?" He rolled you both over so he was towering above you, caging you in. "But you're just so cute like that," he continued, kissing your pout right off your lips.

“You didn’t come home last night, did you?” Hongjoong asked at the breakfast table, watching as you emptied the last swig of coffee from the can into your cup. 

“Uh, no.” You didn’t dare to look at your roommate as you added milk, “Got kinda late so I just stayed over.” You weren’t a good liar so you thought it was best to keep it vague. Hongjoong wasn’t usually that interested in your friends anyway. Except, right now his eyes were boring into the back of your head.

“Where?”

Your grip around the handle of your cup briefly tightened. “My friend’s place? I met with the girls yesterday, remember?” It still wasn’t a lie, you argued with yourself. You did meet them yesterday, it just so happened that you went to another friend’s place after. 

“Right,” Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Was it good?”

“Yeah, sure, it was …good.”

Before he could say anything else, Yeosang shuffled into the kitchen, messy bed hair falling into his face. A sense of relief washed over you, hoping for the topic to finally be dropped now that your other roommate was there. But Yeosang was all too keen on disappointing you. “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you when he spotted you, “When did you come back? You didn’t sleep here did you?”

You wanted to kill him.

“No,” Hongjoong replied in your stead as he got up from the kitchen table and left the room, “She stayed at her friend’s.”

“What’s up with him?” Yeosang asked, his eyes following Hongjoong for another moment. Then he briefly lifted the coffee can, just to find it empty.

“Don’t ask me.”

“Hm,”  he casually stole the cup from your hands. “So you’ve been at your friend’s, huh?”

“I’m with my friends all the time,” you replied a bit too harshly, snatching back your coffee, “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Ugh, forget about it,” you grumbled, taking another sip of your coffee, before you surrendered your cup to Yeosang and retreated to your room. You didn’t have the energy to deal with their suspicions anymore. Not, when they were very right to be suspicious.

Looking at the situation from the outside, this secretiveness might seem uncalled for. It wasn’t any of their business who you slept with anyway, and both you and Yunho were single. So, you sleeping with him shouldn’t be a big deal. But it was, because you've had a crush on Hongjoong since you’d moved in with him and Yeosang at the beginning of last semester, and there were times when you thought he felt the same, except he actually had a girlfriend. And Yunho just so happened to be his friend that he'd known since middle school and one of the last people you should be sleeping with if you wanted to hang onto that dream of Hongjoong and you. There was no way you could let either of your roommates (or any of their other friends) find out about your arrangement with Yunho. In an ideal universe, you would've never slept with him in the first place, but that ship had long sailed.

You hadn’t planned on accompanying them to the beach. You felt awkward around Hongjoong since the little interrogation and you felt even more awkward about the thought of meeting Yunho with him around. You hadn’t seen both of them at the same time since that one night at the beach a few weeks ago, when the whole thing between you and Yunho had started. Just like today, Yeosang had convinced you to tag along, saying he needed someone sane with him to survive the night. You’d ended up agreeing, especially when Hongjoong said he’d take you down to the beach in his car. But then, of course, his girlfriend had called him over and he’d left, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be your ride back. Everyone else, including Yeosang, had come by bicycle, so you were stuck. Except, Yunho had a pretty sturdy bike rack and a home that wasn’t too far from the beach. So, a few hours later, you’d found yourself on the back of his bicycle, intoxicated and depressed and clinging to the shirt of a guy you’d barely ever talked to before.

“We’re there,” Yunho said when he stopped in the tiny driveway that surely wouldn’t fit a car, waiting for you to get down first before he did the same.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you hopped off, one of your hands still holding onto his shirt. He glanced down at it but when you showed no intention of letting go, he just let it be. You trailed behind when he leaned the bike against the house wall, and then still when he unlocked the door and led you up the narrow stairs. Your thoughts were barely there at all, even when he sat you down at a small table and finally pried your hand off his shirt to get you a glass of water. All you could think of was Hongjoong and his girlfriend and the way he’d completely forgotten all about you the second she'd called. You knew you wouldn’t have considered it a big deal if it had been anyone else, happy for them that they got to see their significant other. But it was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong. Though, truthfully, he was actually hers.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, the alcohol making you wear your heart on your sleeve. Yunho must have noticed your watery eyes, even in the half-light of the apartment, because he left the water on the table before kneeling down in front of you. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “It’s just—it really hurts to be left behind.”

A small, bitter smile played on his lips. “Yeah, it does.”

“But I get it though. She’s so pretty,” your lower lip wobbled as you spoke, “do you think things would be different if I was as pretty as her?”

He tilted his head to make you meet his gaze. “You are, though. You are so pretty.”

For a few seconds you just looked at him. He had big brown eyes that you’d never really noticed before, but now you thought they were kind and beautiful. His lips were beautiful too.

“Prove it then,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

There was a brief moment of hesitation, as if he was trying to figure out if he really got it right. But then he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss tasted a bit like alcohol and a bit like tears, but somehow it was still so sweet.

“What are you thinking about?” Yeosang nudged you in the side, making you snap out of your little trance.

“Nothing much,” you replied, lowering your hand that you hadn’t even noticed wandering to your lips.

“Nothing much, hm?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask further and instead offered you his beer. You took a swig, gazing into the flames of the bonfire. The smoke burned in your eyes a bit but you couldn’t really be bothered. Just like that night, Hongjoong had left early, but contrary to that night, Yunho wasn’t there. Mingi said he’d come a little later, but you weren’t sure if he really would. At least you had your own bike with you this time, so it didn’t really matter. (But why did you feel so disappointed?)

Just when you were considering telling Yeosang that you’d go home first, you spotted Yunho coming down to the beach. For a brief moment his gaze landed on you, but then Mingi patted the space next to him in the sand and he sat down with a smile. Your eyes stayed on him for another moment, watching as they talked. His cheek looked red you thought, bruised, but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But then you noticed that his right hand was bruised too, the skin around his knuckles scraped and red. You knew what caused injuries like that, you weren’t stupid. But what you didn’t know was why Yunho would punch anyone.

“Some guys have been picking fights with him,” Yeosang mumbled, “They’re kinda holding a grudge against his dad.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you barely managed to stop yourself from asking further questions. You weren’t supposed to have anything to do with Yunho, so it’d be best not to be too nosy. “And why would you tell me that?”

Yeosang shrugged with a knowing grin. “Just had a feeling that you wanted to know.”

“Not really.”

“If you say so.” With that he got up to get himself a new drink, leaving you momentarily alone to dwell in your thoughts.

The night lightly floated along, filled with soft laughter and the smell of smoke and the ocean, but your gaze kept snapping back to Yunho and the blood on his knuckles. It didn’t fit into the picture of him that you’d painted in your head, though to be fair you’d mostly painted it in his bed, so how much did you really know? 

“I think, I’m going to leave,” Yeosang eventually told you, “are you coming too?”

Your eyes were still on Yunho and just when you wanted to tear them away, he looked over too, meeting your gaze. There was something inquiring about his expression, as if he knew exactly what you were talking about; as if he wanted you to stay.

“No,” you eventually mumbled, turning your head to Yeosang but your eyes needed a second longer to follow, “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

Your roommate huffed a laugh, “Alright, guess you’ll be back in the morning?”

“No, I—yeah, I guess.”

“You stayed for me,” Yunho said with a smile as you dragged your bicycles along the promenade back to his place. There was no reason not to ride other than the night being warm and beautiful and the fact that it was nice to walk together.

“Not for you,” you corrected, “for me.”

“Same thing.”

It was quiet for a moment except for the sound of the waves. His right hand held onto the handlebar of his bike, his bruises in plain sight.

“What happened?” You asked and it made his gaze self-consciously flicker to his hand as well.

“It’s fine, just got held up a little.”

“By whom?”

“Just—just some guys.” Yunho seemed to be looking anywhere but you.

“Because of your dad?”

When his head snapped around to you he looked surprised, “You know about that?”

“No,” you assured, “I don’t know, not really. But you can tell me if you want.” or not, you wanted to add when it stayed silent, but then Yunho spoke up after all.

“It was a pretty big deal, to be honest. Well, at least in certain circles it was. Everyone was talking about it last year. The thought that you don't know is kinda refreshing, to be honest.”

"You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay."

“Do the guys know?” You asked even though you were convinced at least Yeosang and Mingi did.

“They do. I’ve known them for so long now, some of them since middle school, so of course they know. It was public knowledge anyway.” He huffed a bitter laugh.

“So, what happened?”

He shrugged. “Miscalculations, I guess. Bad deals. Loans falling through. That kinda thing.”

“Is that really bad enough to pick a fight?”

“Honestly?” he looked at you with his dark brown eyes, “Yeah. It is. When my dad’s business crashed, it took others with him. If your family goes bankrupt because of someone else’s mistake, that’s a pretty good reason to pick a fight over, isn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I’m the only one who’s here.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“Abroad. My mom too. It was pretty hard to stay, you know?”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

He shrugged. “What was I gonna do abroad? My friends are here and college is here too. And I don’t like running away anyway.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “you’re pretty cool.”

That actually made him laugh, and you liked the way it lit up his face, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yunho?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you for telling me.”

Yunho liked to be a little mean, teasing you relentlessly with a sweet smile on his face. But tonight was soft and gentle, just like that first time. He pulled you into his lap and cradled you in his arms as if you were something precious, and you did the same for him, kissing his bruises with gentle lips in hopes it could heal them.

“You really are so pretty,” Yunho mumbled into the skin over your collar bones, and his low voice left goose bumps in its wake. His hands on your hips pulled you close, having you grind into him in slow motions. There was no teasing nor was there any of that impatient heat you usually felt. Instead, it was just warm and intimate, and it felt more like love than it should have. After all, this was just an arrangement of comfort and convenience, it wasn’t supposed to feel this close.

“I need to go,” you whispered, prying Yunho’s arm off your waist.

“Why? Just stay, it’s late.”

“No, I can’t.” you slipped out of the blankets, searching for your clothes that were scattered on the floor. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t find your panties, so you slipped into your shorts just like that. It’d make do for the way home. “Hongjoong’s been kinda suspicious about—I don’t even know, he’s just suspicious of something.” You thought you saw Yunho flinch from your peripheral vision at the mention of his friend’s name, but you couldn’t be too sure. He didn’t say anything else and just watched as you put your shirt back on.

“Text me when you get home,” he eventually mumbled when you were about to leave the room, “So I know you’re safe.”

For a second there you felt your heart skip, but then you shook it off. Convenience, you reminded yourself, comfort and convenience.

“Sure.”

Once you were gone, Yunho dropped back into his pillows, rubbing his face in frustration. He should have known better than to think you’d fallen in love with him. Of course Hongjoong was your priority, always. He knew that so well, he’d known it from the moment he’d first kissed you. But there was just something about the way he felt when you were together, that made him want to forget. At first it’d been nothing but a little crush, but the more time he’d spent with you, the more he was convinced he was actually in love with you. You made him feel like home in ways no one else did. 

“When were you back?” Hongjoong asked while he took out a bowl for some cereal. One bowl, you noted, which meant that his girlfriend hadn’t stayed over, even though they’d met up so late. It made you curious, but you didn’t know how to ask about it. You never knew how to ask about anything that had to do with her, too worried he could sense your feelings if you did.

“Around 3? Maybe?”

He nodded slowly. “That’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“San said he and Wooyoung were the last ones to leave. At 2.”

You felt caught and nervous, but at the same time you didn’t get why he was questioning you like this. It almost felt like a parent trying to uncover their teenager’s lies. “I was with a friend after.”

“You’re out late a lot these days.”

You frowned at him, but then your attention got momentarily taken by your phone screen lighting up with a message. When you unlocked it, you found a message from Yunho.

you forgot something ;)

And then there was a picture. Of your panties.

You immediately locked the phone again and laid it onto the table. With the screen down, just to be safe.

“Yeah,” you finally replied, hoping the heat in your cheeks didn’t show, “I guess I am.” And then in an attempt to lighten the mood you added with a light chuckle, “Are you my dad now? Or just jealous?”

To your surprise the question got him spluttering. “What are you saying? I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Did Yunho get you home safely?” Mingi asked, casually putting his arm around your shoulder. You startled, having been so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him approaching you. Your mind had been full with trying to figure out if your next class was canceled, since the room was locked and no one was waiting outside either (and maybe there were also other things occupying your brain, like a guy with sweet brown eyes—).

“Yeah, sure, he did,” you replied as you shook off Mingi's arm and turned around to him. The words were already out when you spotted Hongjoong standing behind him and looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Yunho? Didn’t you say you were with a friend?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Well, he is a friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong replied with a little frown, “mine.”

You forced out a little laugh, your eyes briefly darting over to Mingi who watched the situation in helpless confusion. “Are you suddenly gatekeeping your friends now?” 

“No, but—why didn’t you tell me you were with him?”

“I don’t know,” you didn’t meet his gaze, “maybe I knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“Isn’t it weirder that you were keeping it a secret? Are you dating him or something?”

“No!” you replied, maybe a little bit too quickly.

“We just walked a bit,” Yunho interrupted, seemingly having overhead you. His voice was calm and he acted as if he just casually joined the conversation, but you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw. “The weather was nice and we got lost in conversation, so it just took us a little longer to get home. There’s nothing more to it.”

You knew he was saying this for you, and you knew you had just claimed the exact same thing, but somehow it still hurt. Maybe you didn’t want there to be nothing. 

“So, anyway,” Mingi broke the tension, “who’s joining for lunch?”

You thought you should probably end the arrangement with Yunho. The constant lying made you feel anxious and it put a strain on your friendship with Hongjoong. It was never supposed to become such a big thing anyway. But when Yunho sent you a text, asking if you were coming to his place after class, you found yourself inclined to say yes. Maybe he’d been right, maybe you really couldn’t get enough of him.

So, you went to meet him at the gate after classes, lost in daydreams as you waited.

“Y/n,” Hongjoong’s voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, “are you done for today too? I can give you a ride.” He nodded over to his car waiting in the parking lot. 

“Uh, I—,” you started, trying to come up with a plausible excuse.

“She actually has business with me,” Yunho interrupted, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders from behind.

“Business?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, “What kinda business could you have?”

Yunho smiled sweetly. “She forgot something the other day. Right?”

You felt your cheeks flush with heat, reminded of the picture of your underwear that he’d sent you. “R-right.”

“So, let’s go?” Yunho asked, already walking on ahead to where he’d parked his bike. You stood there for a moment longer, your eyes flickering between him and Hongjoong.

“I’ll see you at home?” you finally pressed out, making it sound more like a question, before you jogged over to catch up with Yunho.

“Yeah, sure.” 

As soon as you reached him, you boxed him in the shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you hissed. 

“Making him jealous?”

“Are you sure it’s not you who’s jealous? He has a girlfriend.”

“And yet he’s still looking this way,” Yunho said with a shrug, so convinced to be right that he didn’t even bother turning around to check. You did, though, and sure enough Hongjoong was still standing right there, following you with his eyes. When you met his gaze, he lifted his hand in an awkward wave and then turned to leave. You thought you should be happy, but somehow, you weren’t.

Are you sure it’s not you who’s jealous? Yunho almost wanted to laugh. If only you knew how right you were about that. It was pathetic, really, acting all possessive under the guise that he was helping you out, when really he just wanted you to himself. There’d been something like worry washing over him when he’d seen you speaking with Hongjoong. Of course you were right, he had a girlfriend, but Yunho saw the way Hongjoong was looking at you and he wasn’t oblivious to the way he’d been looking at him either ever since you’d started spending time with him. It seemed like a matter of time until Hongjoong would do something about it, about you, and Yunho didn’t think he’d stand a chance if it came down to it. No matter how much time you spent in his bed, having your body wasn’t the same as having your heart. He wished he could have both.

Yunho kissed you the second you were back in his apartment, big hands pulling your hips flush against his while his lips devoured yours. 

“Not even offering a drink beforehand, huh?” You said with a chuckle when you briefly separated.

He raised an eyebrow, returning your grin. “Did you want anything? Coffee? Water? Tea?”

“No, no, don’t mind me,” you mumbled, already reattaching your lips to him, “this is fine actually.”

You felt him smile into the kiss and then his hands wandered further down, just below your butt, and then he was suddenly picking you up, your legs almost automatically wrapping around his torso.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, not actually trying to get down.

“Delivery,” he replied with a shrug and carried you to his bedroom where he let you flop onto the mattress like a potato sack and then followed behind, hovering over you. In an instant you were back to kissing, while your impatient hands tugged on your clothes, discarding them somewhere just to get them out of the way. He kissed down your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth.

“No, don’t,” you breathed, your voice not very convincing with how airy it was, “the guys will see.”

“Mhm,” he hummed into your skin. “That’s true.” He moved down until he was positioned between your legs, hiking one of it over his shoulder before he lightly nibbled on the skin of your inner thigh. “But here is fine, right? If it’s here no one will see. No one but me.”

He bit down a little harder, making you whine in response. “Yeah, there's fine,” you gasped out, quickly losing your composure when he brought up one of his hands to your most sensitive parts while his lips kept sucking kisses into your skin. “There’s good.”

Yunho’s thumb found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles that drove you insane, not enough friction to make you come but too much to leave you indifferent. “Please,” you mumbled under your breath, not even sure what exactly you were asking for.

“Please?” Yunho repeated, momentarily halting his movements, "Please stop?" You immediately let out a whine, making him chuckle.

“No, no, please,” you shook your head, “more.”

“More, hm?” There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Like this?” Without further warning he attached his lips to your core, licking and sucking on your sensitive folds while his thumb picked up the pace on your clit. All you could do was buck your hips and cling to the bed sheets as he devoured you, that familiar knot building up in your guts all too quickly. He let you have it, your high washing over you like a wave as he kept eating you out, only stopping when your hands started to physically push him away, unable to take the overstimulation.

“Didn’t you say you wanted more?” He asked when he finally let up, “I’m just trying to grant your wishes.” He kept eye contact as he poked out his tongue, slowly drawing closer to your core again. It almost had the energy of a cat pushing a vase off the table, his movement so, so slow while his innocent gaze was fixed on you.

“No, no,” you whimpered, hands still buried in his hair, “I can’t. Too much.”

“No?” Yunho repeated and it almost looked like he was pouting. He stilled though, not drawing any closer until you gave the go. His face was still close enough to your core for his breath to send shivers through your body, and you involuntarily bucked your hips in search of friction.

“Heh,” he grinned mischievously, “I thought it’s too much?”

“No, I don’t know,” you bucked your hips again, unable to choose between feeling too sensitive and wanting more.

“You don’t know? But I can’t decide for you.” There were those doe eyes again and it was so clearly what he wanted you to say and he thought you would say, but he still needed the words to be put out there.

“Okay,” you pressed out.

“Okay?”

Your face was burning hot with embarrassment. “More.”

You thought you should probably take a shower, your skin once again sweaty as you laid in Yunho’s bed a little later, but you couldn’t be bothered to move. You felt exhausted and tired and it was comfortable to lay next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm, despite the heat. Yunho’s hand lazily plaid with your hair, his eyes fixed to the ceiling. You watched his profile, his full lashes and warm eyes and soft lips. Eventually he turned his head, slowly, to look at you. 

“You’re staring,” he whispered.

“Sorry.”

“No. I don’t mind.”

You hummed, neither of you looking away.  

“Are you going to leave?” He asked after a while. It was night already and you knew it was high time to go home. But if you were being honest you didn’t want to. It felt too embarrassing to put it out there, though. “Should I?” you mumbled instead.

He smiled. “If you’re asking me if you can stay, you can.”

You averted your gaze. “I’ll stay then.”

Yunho pulled you a little closer, pressing a brief kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay.”

“You wanted to talk?” Yunho asked, as he plopped down in the sand next to Hongjoong.

“Yeah,” he nodded, staring out at the water instead of meeting Yunho’s gaze. “I’ve broken up with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It was high time. We both weren’t happy. And there’s also—” he didn’t finish his sentence, but Yunho knew what he was going to say without putting it out there. You.

“So why are you telling me?”

“I know there’s something going on between the two of you. I’m not going to ask for details and I doubt you would tell me anyway. But just answer me this: Are you dating y/n?”

Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, because it would stop Hongjoong from making a move. Yes, because he wanted it to be true. But it wasn’t.

“No.”

“Have you seen my phone?” You asked a few days later, scurrying through the flat, confused about where you’d left it and in a hurry to get to morning classes. 

“No,” Hongjoong shook his head, watching from the kitchen door frame as you patted down the pockets of your jackets hanging on the coat hooks in the hallway.

“Weird,” you mumbled, “I thought I still had it when I—right, breakfast,” you pushed past him into the kitchen. Your phone laid in plain sight on the table. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t seen it, huh?”

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t pay attention.” He bites his lower lip, but you barely paid attention, distracted by the missed call from Yeosang, just a few minutes ago. He didn’t usually call you, after all you were living together, what reason was there to call? Maybe he forgot something at home that he needed for classes?

“Actually—Can we talk?” Hongjoong asked. It sounded reluctant, and maybe if you’d looked up from your phone you would have seen the way chewed on his lower lip, the way it seemed to cost him courage to speak up. You didn’t look up though, your eyes still fixed on your phone screen when you said “Sure.”

There was a small pause, before he continued, “We broke up.”

You clicked on your phone’s call history. There was Yeosang, of course, but then there was another one, right below, an hour ago: a declined call from Yunho. A weird feeling settled in your guts, because Yunho too never called, especially not that early in the morning. And because you knew you didn’t decline that call yourself.

“Are you listening?” Hongjoong asked and you finally looked up at him then. He looked different, unfamiliar.

Your phone vibrated with a text from Yeosang.

yunho got beaten up

i thought you should know

You felt panic rise in your guts until it was crushing your rib cage and clogging up your throat. “I need to leave,” you pressed out, rushing to leave but Hongjoong held onto your wrist.

“It’s Yunho isn’t it?” 

“Yes.”

“I knew it,” he let out a bitter huff, “There’s something between you, isn’t there? Are you in love with him?”

You didn’t bother arguing; there was no time for that and maybe you didn’t think he was wrong. With your free hand you grabbed his, pulling it away from your wrist. “I have to go. Now.” He didn’t try to hold on, nor did he say anything else when you slipped in your shoes and rushed out of the flat.

You called Yeosang on your way down the stairs, not bothering with greetings when he picked up.

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s home,” Yeosang replied and the calmness of his voice made you feel a little more at ease. “He’s mostly okay. I left the backdoor open.”

“What about the guys who did it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s being settled for good.”

You didn’t know exactly what it meant, but you decided that was something to think about later. For now all that mattered was that Yunho was safe.

Yeosang had left a while ago after helping him tend to his bruises, even though Yunho had assured him he was fine by himself. Yunho knew he’d also called up Mingi to settle things once and for all. He’d never wanted the guys to be involved, convinced he could somehow solve this by himself and feeling too guilty about making this their problem too. But he also knew it was time to admit that it was pure luck that he hadn’t been hurt any worse until now. Last night too it could have ended really badly, but then there’d been police sirens in the distance and they’d rushed off. Yunho had dragged himself home as best as he could in the early morning hours, collapsing on his doorstep with his head feeling fuzzy and every joint in his body hurting. With shaky hands he pulled out his phone, barely able to recognize the names on screen through his blurry vision, but he still managed to find your contact. The call didn’t go through. Of course not, Yunho thought to himself. Because it was early in the morning and because surely Hongjoong had already confessed to you and you had better things to do now than to deal with your fuck buddy and his problems. It was silly of him to call you in the first place. You weren’t dating. But he felt lonely and in pain and all he could think was that he wanted to see you and hear you say that things were going to be okay. But you weren’t going to come, so he called Yeosang instead.

You didn’t bother trying to ring the doorbell and instead rushed straight to the back door. You found him sitting on the bathroom floor, battered and bleeding and yet still better off than you’d feared. He visibly flinched when you pushed the door open, but then he saw it was you and the tension in his shoulders dropped.

“Y/n,” his voice sounded hoarse.

You knelt down in front of him, carefully cupping his jaw. His cheekbone was bruised badly and his lower lip was bleeding, but he was looking at you with his brown doe eyes and you knew he was okay. He lifted his bandaged hands to wrap them around yours, and you noticed that they were shaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up,” you whispered. “But I’m here now. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you?”

You frowned, “Because you’re hurt.”

“But you—you don’t have to do this out of pity.”

“It’s not pity, silly.” You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. “Don’t you know that?”

“No,” he whispered, “I don’t know. So tell me.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” You brushed your lips against his, causing him to wince in pain, but when you pulled away he chased your lips, pulling you into a kiss. It tasted a bit like iron, but it also tasted like summer and comfort and love.

no ateez masterlist (yet) but you can check out my other writing here or leave a follow if you don't want to miss future fics

pls consider reblogging if you enjoyed this~

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS PT 3 BUT IT'S JUST GAY

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, you've done part one, and part two, so why do we need a part three?" The answer is because of two things - one. I made a deal with the Tumblr Peoples that if one of my posts hit more than 50 likes I would do this analysis. Two. Mihoyo is making this shit canon. I CAN'T MAKE THIS UP. So, let's delve into my usual disclaimer, as we might have some new people joining us for the first time with my insanity.

I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, so although I am not a professional (crawling my way there through the education system. I will be one, one day.) I do have some experience with analyzing homosexuals. Psychology hours, my children. They don't call me "chronically cooking" for nothing. Maybe I should change my url to that...

NOW THAT MY LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, LET'S GET INTO THIS! It's time to deconstruct these homosexuals like a modern airplane, because they might as well be taking off with how canon they are.

"It can't be canon," they say, but then Mihoyo DOES PAID SPONSORSHIPS WITH THESE FUCKERS BEING GAY. We've all seen the paid partnership edit. We've all seen the video where Aventurine has the audio of "nice rack" as he talks to Dr. Ratio. PAID SPONSORSHIPS. Now, if that piece of evidence isn't enough for you - let's dive into their actual relationship, which is just a HOMOSEXUAL MESS. I will be focusing more on how Dr. Ratio sees this guy as this is a Dr. Ratio analysis™, but hey, the crumbs.. we eat 'em all. Amen.

Let's start off (I say as I write this part three days later) about how people are like, 'Aven is Ratio's favourite idiot' WRONG. Ratio does NOT consider Aventurine to be an idiot and knows that he is smart and capable in his own right. While Ratio is book smart, Aven is extremely street smart and holds his own very well. Ratio does not consider Aventurine to be an idiot as he takes off his plaster head around him and actually indulges in his whims around him. This is a blatant showcase of fondness because although he is emotionally constipated and can't be affectionate through words without sounding semi-backhanded because he's never had true affection in his life, he showcases his love through actions rather than words. He's just bad at showing love, okay? But he does love Aven. Or like him, to some extent, if you don't want to see them as romantic, which is fine. However, no matter what you label their bond as, it's obvious that they care for one another.

Also, the fucking ZEST FEST that was 'keeping up with Star Rail'. He says, "wait a minute - MUTUAL?" which indicates that he has respect for Aventurine in the first place. He LITERALLY TOLD US that he respects Aventurine and he was commenting on Aventurine's playstyle & everything.. also, at the end, he was here because 'I appreciate this show's dedication to knowledge' - his TONE. Kudos to the VA because that was not convincing at all. Bro was NOT here for the knowledge, bro was here to be GAY!!! Also his little own bathtub couch. We all know Aven bought it for him. Trust, I am John Hoyoverse.

"The Charming Audacity" HUH? BRO? Okay this is hilarious to me because this is the first time that we ever really see them interact with one another, and we get absolutely bitchslapped in the fact that Dr. Ratio calls this guy's audacity 'charming'. That's GAY. That's HOMOSEXUAL.

Also, comparing him to a peacock.. a very beautiful bird.... Must I say more?

Now, the part that I really want to focus on is the part where he gives the Doctor's Note to Aventurine. This shit is important. And I agree with the people who are like - Acheron helped him. Because she did. She was a big part of it and she helped Aventurine get back on his feet in the void. Dr. Ratio is not his only reason to live, but the note, showing that someone will stay by his side? Showing that someone truly cares for him? Someone who's waiting for him when he get back? This bond that he has with Dr. Ratio isn't fake. He already has a starting point to get back to - an anchor to return to. Dr. Ratio is his anchor. Whenever he goes off to do crazy shit, Veritas Ratio will be there when he returns. Because Ratio is loyal. Ratio cares. He cared enough to almost jeopardize their plan to make sure that Aventurine was going to be okay. He cares so damn much about Aventurine that he decided that this man's emotional state after the fake betrayal was more important than all of fucking Penacony.

If you want an example of "I would let the world burn for you," it's Ratio. He's a romantic not in the traditional sense, but he cares and loves Aventurine so damn much it makes my heart hurt. "Do stay alive," he says, knowing that Aventurine struggles with living. Those three words mean the whole fucking world to someone who struggles with suicidal ideation and suicidal thoughts. Someone wants you to live. Someone wants you to stay. Someone wants you by their side.

Dr. Ratio cares. Let me say that again - he cares. He banters with Aventurine, tries to create an environment where Aventurine can feel a little bit more comfortable with the two of them, even in a place as dangerous as Penacony. He will put his own life on the line for Aventurine.

He cares. He cares so damn much. I hate gay people. They make me VIOLENTLY homophobic.

Dr. Ratio after expressing his care indirectly and complimenting Aventurine indirectly: Did I do it?

Aventurine, who has caught none of the hints:

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[kamesama]

I’ve been dying to see some Sukuna aftercare after some -ahem- rough play. 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 plssss I absolutely adore your writing style

yes. absolutely yes. i'm eating this up.

— lovely: ryōmen sukuna.

— notes + warnings: n/sfw because post-coital bliss; implied rough sex; lots of synonyms for 'wet'; otherwise i'm still your domestic fluff provider™, just a lil' spicy; female! reader x human? sukuna ( idk ); i literally don't know what else to say. — word count: 637

pearls of sweat spilled open across your skin, sticking to the linen bed-sheets. tension melted off your muscles and dampened the mattress. bedroom walls lapped up leftovers of your moans as you heaved, ribcage expanding only to have the thews in between the arched bones squeeze your breaths out.

with sukuna rolled away from you, your blush red thighs pressed against one another, as if to savour whatever remains of the gratification laid lurking between them. the movement was not so subtle, earning you a deep chuckle that seemed to scratch sukuna’s throat through layers of honey; sweet and thick.

a light shift of weight upon the dents in the cushion lead to an uncharacteristically tender kiss planted above the vertebra proudly standing between your scapulae. 

“always so insatiable, aren’t you?” sukuna’s voice dripped onto your skin, hot and balmy. his own lungs devoured the air more eagerly than usual; a giveaway that sweet exhaustion hugged him just as tightly. he extended his arm invitingly as he rolled onto his back, urging you to do the same — a demand that you satisfied swiftly and more than willingly, “come here, you naughty girl.”

your hand patted the space around you blindly, gaze too immersed in the sight of sukuna’s profile. it brought a foolishly pleased smile to your lips as you finally grasped the thin sheet, bringing it up to your loved up and bitten frame. 

sighing in delight, you laid your reddened cheek against sukuna’s skin as he pulled you close. his vast palm massaged your bare breast, fingertips trailing over the erect nipple lazily. all the while, you nuzzled into him, your nose nesting in the small depression on his neck.

stretched tendons and bruised skin wanted you to utter out a promise of never again, but the sheer delight coursing through your veins and getting sucked up by every cell in your body made you sigh yet again; an odd mixture of a moan and a groan, “it hurts, ‘kuna…” you mumbled, eyelids veiling your sight as they succumbed to the pull of exhaustion.

“does it, now?” he mused, as if utterly clueless. as if he wasn’t the culprit behind the ache in your flesh and the mulberry stains across your skin. as if he didn’t have you drench the pillow with vapour dripping off your breath and soak the linen with wetness gushing from in between your thighs.

he could feel you nod and purse your lips, “mhm.” 

with a grin, he continued to grope your breast, only for his hand to trail down the curve of your waist and across your hip bone. his amusement seemed to grow as his touch ghosted across the scorching surface of your bottom, still tainted with hand-shaped splatters of rosy red.

“whatever shall i do…” he murmured, sticking his crimson gaze to the ceiling and taking a selfish moment to savour the aftermath of his unadulterated indulgence. your breathing had calmed, your lungs no longer utterly starved. 

he liked you so; exhausted. overwhelmed. pressed against him as if he was some sort of lifeline; an anchor. 

but he couldn’t possibly leave you a tarnished mess, so sweaty and drenched, with that bothersome ache clenched around your bones. 

no. you’ve been too good, too sweet for him to let slumber take you so filthy, so ruined — even though you seemed to be slipping away already, ravished so thoroughly and screwed so senseless that you couldn’t bother to move a muscle.

it was lovely, truly.

“hey,” he called out, nudging you a little; just enough to stir you from still weak confinements of rest. goosebumps rose on his skin from the way your lashes caressed the spot on his neck, “not yet,” he chuckled, kissing your hairline as he sat up.

“not until we’re out of the bath, princess.”

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[anthurak]

Ruby's and Yang's Family Reckoning

Has anyone else noticed how each of the post-Beacon arcs thus far have featured a member of Team RWBY returning home and reconciling/repairing issues with their family? Volumes 4 and 5 had Blake returning to Menagerie and reconciling with her parents, while Volumes 7 and 8 had Weiss returning to Atlas and helping repair the broken relationships with her siblings and mother.

With that in mind, I think it’s easy to imagine that Volumes 10 and 11 will be Ruby’s and Yang’s turn to sort out their long-standing family baggage. I mean, they’ve got two of their parents/parent-figures already in Vacuo, the third and their childhood home is just a quick bird-mom-portal away, and it turns out they ALSO recently got information that their fourth parent might not be as dead as they thought.

And here’s the other thing: we’ve also seen an escalation in just how complicated, dysfunctional and overall ‘fucked-up’ the family issues faced by our heroines have gotten over the last two arcs.

As many have noted, Blake has the only unambiguously good parents among her team, with the worst of the ‘issues’ they had to deal with being some simple estrangement. Instead, the real family ‘issues’ Blake had to deal with Volume 4 and 5 was reclaiming her family’s legacy, ie; the White Fang, from Adam and the Albain brothers.

Then we went from that, to the long-abused mess that is the Schnee family.

So going off that trend, as well as several other factors…

Yeah, I have NO doubt at this point that the STRQ family is going to find a way to be an even BIGGER fucked-up, messy, dysfunctional train wreck that Ruby and Yang are going to have to sift through and repair.

Now I know some people are probably wondering how Team STRQ could possibly be worse than the Schnees? After all, they had actual Worst-Dad™, Jacques Gele. How could Summer, Taiyang, Qrow and Raven be worse than that?

Here’s the thing though: The Schnee family may have been a wreck, but it was also a fairly uncomplicated wreck with a singular, easy-to-understand root cause; one utter shitbag who was making life terrible for everyone else. And the solution to the family problems (or at least the START of the solution) wound up being likewise simple and straightforward; just kick out the aforementioned utter shitbag and the family can start healing. I mean, it took less than a day after Jacques was given the boot for Weiss, Willow, Whitley and even Winter to make major steps in patching things up between them.

The STRQ family on the other hand aren’t going to be anywhere NEAR that simple. They are ACTUALLY messy and dysfunctional and complicated and ambiguous and all the other things fandom claims to love yet more often seems to just break their black-and-white-morality-loving brains when they actually see it.

Because unlike the Schnees, Team STRQ DOESN’T actually have just one terrible person who can easily be pointed to as the root cause of their problems (No, not even Raven)*. Instead, I think it’s becoming more and more apparent that Summer, Raven, Qrow and Tai are simultaneously good people who all love their daughters and genuinely want the best for them, and are also all MASSIVE dysfunctional fuck-ups in each their own way who have FAILED Ruby and Yang as parents in one way or another.

Summer the ‘supermom’ who also obsessively chased her hero-complex into martyrdom.

Raven the ‘daddy had a good reason for leaving you’ who actually didn’t have a good reason.

Qrow the ‘cool uncle’ who’s actually spent the last 15+ years wallowing in alcoholic depression.

Taiyang the at-first seeming ‘reliable’ father who turns out to actually be a MASSIVELY dysfunctional wreck.

All while Ruby AND Yang can both state openly and matter-of-factly that YANG was the one to RAISE RUBY. The kind of sibling relationship we might generally expect to see in two orphans. Which does NOT, in any context, speak highly of the parenting they received.

And I think Volumes 10 and 11 are going to be when the story finally shines a light on all those problems and forces Ruby and Yang to finally confront them.

Simply put, I think this is going to be when the story effectively yanks the rug out from under us and flips the script on basically everything we, plus Ruby and Yang, long assumed about Team STRQ has been wrong. Or alternatively for Ruby and Yang, everything that’s been right in front of them, yet have been refusing to confront all this time.

Things like just about everything Yang thought she knew about her family when she explained her backstory to Blake in Volume 2 (and which has served as the basis for nearly ALL of our assumptions about Team STRQ) turning out to be wrong in one way or another.

Or things like Taiyang being shown to be just as big a dysfunctional fuck-up parent as Qrow and Raven.

Or things like Qrow being called out for ditching the family pretty much just as much as Raven did to join Ozpin’s secret society.

Or Raven turning out to be Ruby’s dad.

Or Summer turning out to NOT actually be dead and is basically Salem’s Darth Vader via horrific grimm-hybridization.

And ultimately, just how much Summer, Raven, Qrow and Taiyang all FAILED Ruby and Yang as their parents, as illustrated, once again, by the fact that Ruby considers her primary parent-figure to be none of them, but rather YANG.

Ever since Volume 1 featured songs like Red Like Roses Part 2 and Gold, the fact that Yang raised Ruby has been a proverbial Sword of Damocles hanging over Team STRQ. Representing the fact that that ALL of them, Summer, Raven, Qrow and Tai, FUCKED UP as parents.

And I think in the next couple volumes, that sword is finally going to fall.

--

*Okay, maybe Ozpin.

[jedipoodoo]

Hey! I was wondering if I could request a HunterxReader. Something where Hunter is like really possessive over reader with like another guy? Or one of his brother getting a little too close for his comfort, nothing nefarious, just lite teasing.

Thank you in advance.

Again, you’re doing amazing sweetie!

Me reading this request:

I hope you enjoy this one!

Man After Midnight (Jealous!Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: Hunter POV, The Return of The Kyle™, guy gets handsy with reader and Hunter does something about it, alcohol consumption, bar fight, 79s, feel free to check out my personal 79's Playlist here. Spoilers tagged for the gif. Y'all do not know how long it took me to find a season three gif for this one.

Whenever the squad convinced Hunter to join them at 79's, he tuned out the noises and smells to the best of his abilities. The overlapping of a million voices, all too similar to differentiate, the body odors and cologne, the pounding bass of the pop music, it could get to be too much. 

But when you asked him to join you, he couldn't say no. He was powerless to the pleading in your eyes and the joy in your smile when he finally said yes. Or it could have been how Crosshair commented on how good you looked in the new outfit you'd bought for clubbing, but he'd never admit it.

The six of you crowded into a booth at the back of the bar, farthest from the speakers. Hunter made sure that he got the seat next to you, only for Tech to remind you that it was your turn to grab the drinks from the bar. You smiled at Hunter apologetically as you tried to climb over him without bothering him too much. He had a better idea though, and gently placed his hands on your waist, easily lifting you over his legs and placing you on the outside of the booth. 

Wrecker gave a wolf-whistle at the wide-eyed look on your face, and you quickly looked away, running over to the bar as fast as you could through the crowd. 

The others were chuckling as Hunter frowned. Had he messed up? Was he too forward? He didn't consider himself a shy person, but he'd been so sure that you were sending him signals that you were interested. 

"Hmm," Crosshair hummed. 

"What is it?" Hunter sat up.

Cross smirked, "It seems our resident civilian is attracting some attention." 

Hunter quickly scanned the crowd, looking for you. Halfway between the bar and the squad's booth, drinks spilling out of your arms, you were stopped talking with a senate guard. What one of them was doing here was beyond him, but Hunter didn't like the way he was looking you up and down, and half-blocking you from the booth. He wasn't even offering to help you with the drinks. 

Hunter slammed his hands on the table to push himself out of his seat and marched over to you, shoving the guard to the side. 

"Let me help you with that," He said, taking Wrecker's boilermaker and Tech's martini from where you had kept them expertly balanced. 

"Hey, excuse me clone-" 

"You're excused," Hunter rolled his eyes at the senate guard and nodded you towards the booth, "Let's go." 

"Thank you," You said softly, but he heard it all the same. And you were smiling at him, so he hadn't totally messed up. 

The two of you handed out the drinks to their respective drinkers, and Hunter herded you back into your seat. 

"Who was that?" Wrecker asked, downing half his drink in one go. 

You shrugged, "No one in particular. I think his name was Kyle?"

Hunter huffed. He couldn't tell himself if he was annoyed or amused by this revelation. Of course the smarmy senate guard would have a name like Kyle. 

The evening carried on, Wrecker ordered more drinks, Echo found some old friends from the 212th, and Hunter could hear Tech rambling to a very interested Rodian woman who listened to him describe the nesting habits of rancors with stars in her eyes.

You, of course, were on the dance floor. You were always dancing around the Marauder, humming to yourself as you cleaned up your workspace or made the caff. Whenever Hunter saw you dancing, it felt like all was right with the world.

He spotted Kyle across the room. Hunter was surprised he'd stuck around, the senate guards typically didn't deign the clones to be good enough company to make the way across town to 79's.

But Kyle wasn't paying attention to any of the clones. His beady eyes tracked your every movement out on the dance floor. Hunter felt a rumbling in his chest, like a reek warning others to stay back. 

Kyle, of course, couldn't hear it, and even if he could, he probably would have ignored it anyway. The senate guard shouldered his way through the crowd on the dance floor, announcing his presence by placing his hands on your hips. 

Hunter heard your yelp of surprise and grit his teeth. He launched himself from the booth and marched across the room. Several startled patrons hopped out of the way when they saw the look of pure rage on his face, but all Hunter could focus on were your protests as Kyle grinned. 

"Really sweetheart, I'm just trying to give you a compliment, is all!" Kyle laughed as you flushed in embarrassment, trying to push him away. Kyle's grip tightened on you, but Hunter grabbed him by the shoulder. When Kyle turned with a smart quip, Hunter decked him across the face. 

"They said no!" He snarled, his arm out in front of you like a shield.

A few clones gave out supporting cheers as the senate's flunkie was laid out across the nearest table, but Kyle wasn't the only one present. Two more men, decidedly not clones, approached Hunter menacingly, trying to defend their friend. He saw them coming, but he had to take a hit from the first one so that the other could get close without suspecting too much. Then Hunter took the both of them with one swing. 

"Hunter!" You cried out. A crowd was gathering, and Wrecker was trying to make his way over to you and help Hunter out.

Hunter placed his hands on your shoulder, standing in between you and Kyle.

"You alright?" He asked.

"What?" 

"Look out!" Someone shouted. Hunter shielded you with his body to see the senate guards standing up.

Kyle pushed himself to his feet, though he still leaned unsteadily against the table.

"You're gonna regret that, meatdroid!" He snarled, blood dripping down his chin from a broken nose. Kyle charged towards the two of you, but Hunter stepped to the side at the last minute, catching Kyle by the collar of his dress uniform. It was tight enough already, but with Hunter gripping the fabric, Kyle had to gasped for air. Hunter swung him around and right into his would-be bodyguards.

"No fighting! No fighting!" the steward droid waved its arms, but no one was paying it much attention. Wrecker caught the three stooges by the scruff and happily carried them out the door like a mother tooka, dropping them on the veranda where they could hail a hovertaxi. 

Once he was certain that Kyle was taken care of, Hunter turned to you.

"Are you alright?" He repeated.

"Am I-?" You shook your head, "You have a black eye!" You pointed out, as if Hunter wasn't wincing every time he blinked.

"Just a scrape," He insisted.

"If I had a credit for every time-" You were too upset to even finish your thought, but you grabbed Hunter by the lip of his chestplate, pulling him over to the bar. You asked the serving droid for the medkit, and brought him back into the bathroom stalls.

"That was incredibly stupid of you. You know what kind of trouble you could get into if you hurt them too badly!" You made Hunter sit on the edge of one of the sinks so that you could treat him properly.

Hunter sighed, "Trouble seems to find me regardless of whether I do anything or not."

You fixed him with a death glare that made it clear he was better off not saying anything until you were done treating his wounds, superficial as they may be.

"Don't do that again, you hear me?" You slathered bacta over his eye, and dabbed some on the cut on his lip. Fortunately, there was one more ice pack in the poorly-stocked kit, so you snapped it in half to activate the cooling gel. 

"Sorry cyare, but I'm afraid I can't make that promise."

You froze, the ice back an inch above his eye. He could feel the air cooling around it, and gently took the ice pack from your slackened grasp, pacing it against the swelling skin.

"Hunter," You gasped, "don't say things like that. Even for me, it's not worth the risk." Your hands were shaking, so you busied them by packing up the remains of the medikit. 

Hunter grit his teeth as you turned your back to him, "You are worth every sacrifice I have made. Every shot I've taken, every nightmare that haunts me, every humiliation I've had to endure from those miserable excuses for sentient beings," He waved the ice pack in the air, trying to indicate Kyle and his flunkies.

"It's worth it," He insisted, "Just to see you smile."

He heard your heart beat faster as you swallowed the lump in your throat, and he knew he'd gone too far.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way..." You whispered.

Hunter hopped down from the sink and marched out the bathroom door. He needed a nice, stiff drink.

A couple of the other clones gave him strange looks for the eyepatch, and a few who'd seen the fight asked if he was okay. Hunter ignored them all, trying to flag down a steward droid.

"Hunter!" You shouted his name above the din of the music. He decided it was best to ignore you too.

By the time you finally made your way to him at the bartop, he was halfway through a drink he'd regret in a couple hours.

"What do you think you're doing!?" you demanded, hands on your hips.

"Having a drink, what's it look like I'm doing?" He grunted miserably.

"You can't just tell me you love me and walk away like that!"

Hunter spat out a mouthful of alcohol all over the serving droid, leaving his tongue and his nose burning from the taste.

You, however, were unperturbed by his reaction, folding your arms across your chest.

"Now are you going to ask me to dance or not?"

[cottonlemonade]

Hello Sunny!! I adore your writings so much, I read (well re-read) all of them during my study breaks and it is such a good pick me after an exhausting day 🥹❤️

Congratulations on your milestone ❤️❤️❤️

One of my favourite works of yours is Archnemesis with Osamu Miya (I love ONE Onigiri Man 😞❤️)

For the event, I take Menu A with strawberry milk and dorayaki and sit next to Osamu Miya ❤️❤️

Have a great day/night ❤️❤️

Archnemesis [part 2]

word count: 771 || avg. reading time: 3 mins.

pairing: 3rd year rival!Osamu x chubby!Reader (feat. The Inferior Twin ™ (affectionate))

genre: fluff, pining, rivals to lovers

warnings: none

request: fluffy, jealous rival Osamu

[part 1] for context

Osamu was pouting. 

Had he or had he not carried you to the infirmary?

Had he or had he not avenged you with those jerks who dared to insult you? 

And had he or had he not brought you food in the hospital after his match the next day?!

And now what? It was the semifinals and he was about to go up against Karasuno again and you came to cheer them on?

School allegiances aside, why didn’t you even say Hello to him? 

Cheeks stuffed with rice he angrily munched on the onigiri, drawing mildly concerned looks from his team as they sat in a corner of the gym, waiting for their turn to warm up. 

Past Suna’s wild hair he had a clear view of you and the rest of the girl’s team sitting and chatting idly with the Karasuno crows. Your arm was in a sling but there was more color in your soft cheeks. He cringed visibly when he heard you laugh loudly. Whatever that libero had just said couldn’t have been that funny. 

Another annoyed bite of onigiri followed, finishing the rice ball off.

“I‘m gonna get some water.“, he grumbled as he watched you poke the short guy‘s shoulder.

“We have water here, idiot.“, Atsumu said.

“Going to the bathroom, then. I‘ll be right back.“

Since the upcoming match was highly anticipated, the corridors were fairly empty. Only a few people waited in line at the concession stand or talked to a coach in the lobby. Osamu went over to a water fountain and took a few gulps of cold water, using the back of his hand to dry his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Osamu-san.“

His heart set out for a moment before he turned to see you standing a couple of steps behind him. He only now realized that he had never seen you in anything other than volleyball clothes. Your audacity to look this beautiful in a simple shirt and jeans made his blood boil.

“Oh, so yer talkin‘ to me now?“, he sneered, raising a brow and immediately regretting it when you looked down at your shoes.

“Sorry, I didn’t know how to… uhm. I wanted to thank you. For… for what you did.“

“Don‘t mention it.“, he said dismissively, “People might get the wrong idea.“

When you dared to tilt your head in a way that made his heart pound he added, “Can‘t have my team thinkin‘ I‘m fraternizin‘ with the enemy.“

You giggled and a small smile sneaked on his face, too. 

The corridors were empty now. It was probably about time to warm up.

“Well…“, you said, your free hand fiddling with a belt loop, “Thank you again and…“

Osamu was fully convinced he was hallucinating when you closed the gap between you and, standing on your tiptoes, gave him a kiss on the cheek. 

He was one hundred percent sure that he must have dreamed it until you said, “good luck in the game. I hope you win.“ You looked away and hid a small laugh, “Just don‘t tell the boys I said that.“

Osamu was still too stunned to say anything at all. Bold of you to assume that he would have enough mental capacity left to form any kind of thought, let alone words after what you just did. It was truly diabolical to mess with his head like that - a worthy opponent even when too injured to play. 

You turned on your heel and were about to jog off when he gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. The surprised look in your eyes told him his ambush was successful but… now what? You were so close and - and why did you come closer?! Alarm bells went off in his mind but without meaning to he leaned down, meeting you halfway. Nothing had ever tasted as good as your kiss. His brain completely shut down and he scrunched his eyes shut, cupping your face with one while pulling you further into him by your hip with the other hand. 

Your plan was working. There was no way he would be able to concentrate on the game when this was so much more important. You could most likely smell the fry of his brain when you parted your lips to let him slip his tongue between them.

“Samu! Didya get lost on the crapper?“

His brother‘s voice rang loudly through the hallway and Osamu reluctantly let you out of his embrace. 

Whatever happened during the match, he would make sure his rival wouldn‘t get away so easily afterwards. 

a/n: thank you so much for your request and your kind words! I’m so grateful that my silly little stories seem to brighten your day a bit and woah, I didn’t think anyone really liked “Archnemesis” 😅 thank you so much! It was one of my favorites to write!

I really hope you enjoy this one, too 🌟

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "Secure a Wife" (part 2)

First part here

Naturally, "Twilight eyes" stay on during his side mission with Franky. Then he bursts into Camilla's party, wounded and disoriented enough to mess up his introduction.

And thus... slightly different expressions from manga to anime.

In the manga, it's full-on Twilight eyes. Brow going downward to the center, focused and narrowed eyes. The anime has the first two, though as of focused eyes... they make use of animation to show he's so shaken he can't focus his eyes on one place. His slip-up does look funnier when he's trying to present himself as Very Put Together™ as he does in the manga, but I think it's funny either way. Also, I appreciate the small extra whump bone from the anime.

Continuing on the humorous aspect, he switches all the way to reassuring Loid eyes as he tells everyone how absolutely, definitely normal his situation is. No biggie. Just a head flesh wound. He sleeps those right off.

"Loid eyes" stay on as he continues his ploy. Nothing to see here, please continue, are you having fun, my dear wife whom I definitely did not meet just a couple days ago?

Those eyes keep up until Camilla tries to embarrass Yor in front of everyone with details about her "past job"... and here goes.

Loid eyes. He will show everyone how proud he is of his wife.

But then, slowly, his eyes don't look so strained anymore...

... until they're outright sad eyes.

The direct proof (along with the short flashback) that what Twilight says there is the truth for him: he doesn't judge Yor, instead, he honestly supports and praises her for her dedication and her strength.

And when he finishes his praise, he looks towards the others... and the audience doesn't get to see his eyes.

Yor does.

And the truth she sees in his eyes is enough to not only bring tears to her eyes, but to also stay with her and give her strength multiple chapters/episodes later.

This smile isn't the one he actually gave her. But it's the one she remembers.

(Wrong angle in the anime, but we can forgive that)

They leave Camilla's party, get attacked by the smuggling ring, Twilight knocks a few of them out and tells Yor to run for it, Twilight eyes on as he keeps himself alert for any possible attack.

Yor voices her worries about the well-being of his "patients"... and what else can he do but put on the Loid eyes. Which I'm actually sure weren't necessary with her, lol.

Unstoppable force (Yor believing everything she sees and hears) meets immovable object (Twilight suspecting everything and everyone).

Subtle Twilight eyes as he starts to question... well, his own judgment, at this point 😆

They get attacked, and Yor kicks a guy into another dimension before he can hurt Loid. And!

I would just really like to know what his thought process here was. This look is on the verge between "Loid eyes" and "real eyes". But this next panel/shot feels like it's closer to "real eyes".

He was actually amused by how far she kicked that guy, huh 😆

They kick a few more guys' asses, then Yor drops the "why don't we get married" question. Twilight is, understandably, shocked and confused. It's actually something he'd planned for, but it came unexpectedly and just so freely and willingly from Yor.

When his mind picks up from the shock, he puts on the thought process.

And we get investigative eyes.

Twilight accepts, gives her the best marriage proposal to ever grace a screen, starts with Loid voice for "Even in sickness, or in sadness," and switches to Twilight voice for "No matter what hardships await us, let us be there for each other."

Twilight eyes as he finishes his vows,

And... this, as he thinks "Until my mission do us part"

I want to make it clear that I completely doubt he'd already grown any feelings for Yor already. Probably the only thing he'd feel for her at that point was that he sympathized with her mental fortitude and willingness to sacrifice herself in order to protect and support someone she cared about. The pleasant face he has at the end could be merely his expression of relief that the mission was going smoothly.

But then, isn't that what becomes the foundation of the feelings he'll grow later? The relief that she is the kind of person who will protect the peace he fights so hard to maintain himself? A relief that will grow strong enough to lead him into revealing true parts of himself to her?

There's definitely a lot to take away just from the way Twilight's eyes are drawn, in any case.

(anime only fan here, don't spoil me for the manga)

[riinkun-art-stuff]

Howdy ho! I'm very excited to finally be able to share this illustration I worked on as part of this year's @bumblebybigbang for @tahnex's lovely and super fun fic (with no pain attached whatsoever), "Of Dragons and Panthers," which you can read here! As soon as I read the original notes on it this scene captured me so much I had to do something dramatic for it. It's been such a pleasure watching the whole collab come together, tysm for having me!

First time joining an event like this, and I'd love to again if the opportunity comes around hehe. Still a few postings to go on this one, the pieces before us this year have knocked it out of the park and I'm super excited to see the rest once they come around!

Made a few process cuts just for fun, which I left under the cut!

I did do a few sketches roughly before I started out, especially based on other parts of the chapter, but this particular composition was so fixed in my mind that I ended up just sticking with it. In retrospect, I would've loved to go back and do some more thorough exploration for it. Here are a few of the sketches I managed to fish back up:

I also was thinking of trying a few other doodles/another big piece, but ended up not really having the time between other obligations :')

And the sketch I finally settled on:

Inking was SUCH a fun process on this piece in particular. I'm a huge fan of how dragon!Yang's mane turned out, especially, and all the detailing on the head and around Blake's fur and such. Feel like I'm really satisfied w the particular way the line weight variations came out, and it's where the piece shines the most imo.

Panther!Blake, too. Oh gosh. I feel like it took me a lot of reworking to get her structure to a point where she felt very leopard-like, rather than any other type of big cat- especially around the head.

Colours were such a challenging part. There was a big feeling I had for that glow coming off dragon!Yang in the middle of the heavy rain- I love seeing that sort of effect in real life so that's something I'm really hoping to work to capture better as I practice. Trying to get dragon!Yang's slight iridescence in there and to balance out the lighting on panther!Blake's fur each took a long time, too- I'm only a pinch sad that a good chunk of it is covered by other lighting effects XD

Blake's rosettes were SO fun. Augguhugg.

In terms of backgrounds. HOO boy I was going through a strange patch in life while working on the background and final polish for this piece, which is why (at least I feel like) it looks kinda rushed. I have been practicing natural landscapes and doing some observational studies but still struggling to get those rock shapes quite right, which I think is a big make or break point of something like this. I did really enjoy toying around with inking on the foliage and foreground layers of the ground, though! And in the end, lighting and effects ended up masking a lot of the big weak spots :D

I think natural effects like smoke/steam, and rain, are big things that I got to practice more of in this piece, but also really would like to get better at in future. Esp since I feel like it's been a great opportunity to mess around with different colours and brushes that I use way less, which I'm always grateful for w painting. I think just layering the rain on its own ended up being about 10 odd layers?

I think the only other thing I would have loved to improve is to just help the piece feel more Bumbleby™ in the final look. I think I like the cool colours of the lighting for this particular outcome, but I also would have probably tried to have made things much clearer (ahem at the very least switch to yellow/purple) in the long run in terms of representation and resemblance. Ik that at least for me it is fairly easy to associate the two characters with dragons and panthers since I'm more familiar w the fandom lingo around these two, but esp for outsiders I feel like it's probably not great at conveying who they are, and why they are potentially in this situation.

I'd also love to try and find a shading style that still has a painterly quality but compliments the inking a bit better, rather than overpowering it.

I think that, on the whole, I am pretty satisfied with the piece and had a great time working with Tahnex on the whole collab! And I've also has a fun time reading his work and notes in return, and thank you so much for being so so patient with me even as my updates were slow n rocky at points :'D

That's about all I got, have a great day y'all! Still a few big bang postings to go, so very excited for those once they come around!

[lady-harrowhark]

I promise I’m going somewhere with this but I am currently fixating on how seeing Naberius’s trident knife in the beginning of HtN gives Harrow the Gideon Memory Migraine™, despite no clear connection to Gideon:

Ianthe considered this. She nudged the confection basket hilt of the rapier at her hip aside, and took out a long knife that, again, ran a hot rill of pain down your temporal bone. It was—though you had never bothered to learn—Tern’s main-gauche, his trident knife, a long blade from which two other blades would spring at the press of some hidden mechanism; she flicked that mechanism now, and with a snickt they burst out like a firework, two hard points of gleaming steel. She flicked it again, and the blades went snickt back into their housing.

Is it simply that it’s something from the Canaan House era in general? Or is there more going on? Stick with me here.

One of my pet theories I’ve been harboring since Kiriona’s wounds were revealed is that Harrow herself wounded Gideon after she threw herself on the fence, paralleling Jesus’s side wound from being speared after his crucifixion. They needed to ensure Jesus was truly dead, and presumably Harrow also needed to be well and truly sure that Gideon was dead before proceeding. Ianthe says she put a sword through Naberius’s heart to pin his soul in place for her ascension, and we see his body run through with the sword. Harrow needing to do the same to Gideon would certainly be some very juicy angst fuel.

The other crucial component here is one of my other favorite pet theories: that Harrow knew Gideon’s sword was haunted, likely before even coming to Canaan House. I’ve seen a few people do some more detailed explanations about that, but I’ll do a brief rundown here. 

Harrow says as far back as GtN about the sword “I never liked that cursed thing anyway; I always felt like it was judging me.” After the events of HtN with the River and Canaan House 2.0, we know she has an innate and potentially subconscious talent with spirit magic; it seems likely she was able to sense what was in the sword whether she knew exactly what was going on or not.

In HtN, Guideline #3 in her her pre-lobotomy letters to her post-lobotomy self has several stipulations (wipe it down with arterial blood nightly, coat it in regenerating ash, don’t cut flesh or bone with it) that sound a lot like precautions one would take to keep a soul from hopping out of it.

When discussing the sword with Abigail in Canaan House 2.0, we get some very specific qualifiers around how much information Harrow is able to provide about the sword. Directly before remembering that the sword was Gideon’s we have: “Harrow’s brain, though still a jumble, was no longer a mess in a darkened room. Memory had gifted her a small torch she could light the disarray with.”

After that, she struggles to recall further details, her own brain providing obstacles: “The light was not proving helpful enough: she was, in desperation, kicking over piles of the rubble in her own brain.” In the end, she’s able to tell Abigail: “I hated that damned sword for years. I don’t know why; it just felt strange - rancorous. I cannot deny that I often assumed its edge would be the last thing I saw. I don’t know.”

Circling back to the final battle of GtN, we get my favorite little nugget of support for this: Harrow is described as looking “affrighted” when Gideon tells her to go get her two-hander. I’d initially taken that to mean she was startled (and maybe a bit annoyed) to find out that Gideon had brought it at all, or freaked out at the situation in general. But I’ve begun to wonder if she specifically didn’t want Gideon to bring that sword with her to Canaan House because she knew, or at least suspected, what it contained.

Which brings us to the trident knife. If Harrow needed to fix Gideon’s soul in place by impaling her herself, and she knew there was a malevolent soul in the two-hander that could conceivably hitch a ride in another body that it came into contact with, she would have needed a different tool for the job… Which may very well have been the trident knife. Seeing the weapon she used to mutilate her cavalier’s body with seems like��exactly the sort of thing that would bring on one of Harrow’s Gideon-induced headaches, no? It’s also notable that when Harrow sees this knife, it’s directly before Ianthe stabs her through the hand, again analogous to crucifixion wounds. I gotta say, if this holds water, there’s a certain poetry to both Harrow and Gideon receiving versions of the Holy Wounds on the blade of the same knife.

(Edit to add: further theorizing prompted by @camilla-rekt‘s fab addition can be found on this reblog)

[thebat-musicman]

The Playlist™

My 12 hour Batfam playlist (with repeating songs!)

The repeating version has 200 songs and is 12 hours. Non repeating has 167 songs and is 9 hours and 54 minutes.

I am so sorry to whatever poor souls are reading this just trying to find good songs for their faves

@batfambrainrotbeloved it’s done

The bat-playlist from hell is under the cut

Alfred

Be our guest

Let it be

Sweet caroline

You are my sunshine

God is really real

Istanbul (not Constantinople)

50 ways to say goodbye (him faking Bruce’s death when he went training)

What was I made for

No time to die

James Bond theme

I got you

Child of Mine

Little Lion man

You’ll be in my heart

Never grow up

Edelweiss

Baby mine

Friend like me

My heart will go on

Bruce

Never grow up

Everything has changed

I hate it here

I look in people’s windows

imgonnagetyouback

Karma (AJR)

Humpty Dumpty

Inertia

Two birds

Cat’s in the cradle

Song for Orphans

Tears in heaven

Heart of stone

Robin

Whatever it takes

ocean eyes

Migraine

I’ll make a man out of you

Under the Sea

Beautiful Boy (darling boy)

Babs

The story of us

Just a girl

Clara Bow

Role Models

Break my face

The DJ is crying for help

Little miss perfect

She used to be mine

Mastermind

Pretty distraction

So high school

How did it end

Fight song

You should see me in a crown

The man

Runs the world (girls)

I bet you think about me

Inertia

Ours

Part of your world

Dick

I can do it with a broken heart

Touchy feely fool

Never grow up

The Bolter

Surface Pressure

You’re on your own, kid

Because of you

Karma (AJR)

Way less sad

Perfect (simple plan)

Father of mine

This is me trying

Count on me

The Greatest Show

No way

Mr. Perfectly fine

Dancing Queen

Show and Tell

How far I’ll go

Used to be young

Cass

Who’s afraid of little old me

Cassandra

The Albatross

Father of mine

You’re on your own, kid

Heart of stone

Fight song

Everybody wants to rule the world

She used to be mine

Family Line

Because of you

Roar

You should see me in a crown

I won’t

When will my life begin

The prophecy

I hate it here

Speechless

I’ve got a dream

Blackbird

Jason

The Prophecy

Mr. Perfectly fine

Better than Revenge

I did something bad

My tears ricochet

Vigilante shit

You’re gonna go far, kid

Time of dying

Deja vu

good 4 u

Because of you

Father of mine

These boots were made for walking

Fuck you

One way or another

Bang! Pow! Boom!

Be prepared

One jump ahead

Vampire

I think I’m gonna like it here (baby jason needs a song)

Steph

Record Player

Turning out Pt. II

The Dumb Song

Just a girl

Cardigan

The Man

But daddy I love him

the manuscript

Guilty as Sin?

Father of mine

Dead!

Teenagers

You’re on your own, kid

Mr. Perfectly Fine

High school sweethearts

Drama Club

My Play

Devil Town

This is love (air traffic controller)

I won’t say (I’m in love)

Tim

Ur gonna wish u believed me

Yes I’m a mess

Karma (AJR)

Mastermind

Don’t blame me

Fool

Wow, I’m not crazy

Humpty Dumpty

Good 4 u

Pretender (Acoustic)

Mister Cellophane

Come hang out

Let the games begin

Heart of stone

brutal

Deja vu

Every breath you take

The sound of silence

Go the distance

Viva La Vida

Duke

Here comes the sun

Walking on sunshine

I see the light

How do I say goodbye

The Prophecy

Turning out

Sunshine lollipops and rainbows

Teenagers

Our song

Demons

I’m still standing

Waiting on a miracle

I’m not famous

Paper rings

We didn’t start the fire

Everybody dies

What was I made for

I’ll follow the sun

Sunflower

Into the Unknown

Damian

Insane

Oh no!

Surface Pressure

Control

The good part

Role models

Mother knows best

Bad guy

What else can I do

Devil Town

Bones

Rät

Maniac

Losing my religion

(Don’t fear) The Reaper

Heathens

Pumped up kicks

Go the distance

A whole new world

I just can’t wait to be king

[threepandas]

Bird4Bird Part 1: Yandere!Hawks

Quirk Use Laws? Pretty much forbid anyone NOT a Hero from Flying. Even if they have wings. Even if they were born with them.

Society isn't fair. Never has been.

It doesn't MATTER if you have wings fully capable of carrying you through the skies. Of that freedom so few could only dare dream off. You didn't offer yourself up on the alter of Heroics or the meat grinder of Villiany. Stay on the fucking ground.

You haven't flown since childhood.

Not even so much as gliding. Have gotten in TROUBLE time and again for daring to fully extend them, just to stretch. Long learned to ignore the screaming, begging, jibbering mess of instincts that just... just BEGS you. Pleads with you. To just for a MOMENT...

No one would ever have to KNOW!

.......yeah. Yeah sounds like a lie to you, too. But you can't blame um. It. That part of you. You weren't built for this.

Literally.

Your wings are fucking massive. You've lost count of the times you've clipped door frames. Wall corners. Furniture. They're not DAINTY. Not pretty little short term flight wings, built for flitting about and bright colors. They are TANKY. Meant to carry you and carry you and CARRY YOU. Hold weights most couldn't lift.

You got a LOT of pressure to be a hero as a kid.

Now you most just get a lot of pressure to HAVE kids. Lots of um. Gotta pass on the quirk! Be a good little broodmare! Since, you know, YOU failed to give us what we wanted. It's messed up.

And it's not happening.

Not in a society like THIS. Honestly, you'd get your tubes tied if you COULD FIND A DOCTOR TO DO IT. But again! Quirk. Broodmare. Pop out winged babies. Like HELL you will. Not when they'll never get to fly. Not when it's a life of forced combat for the state or being chained to the ground.

You? You can bear it. You're strong enough. You've HAD to be. But you're not gonna let them do that to any hypothetical kid of yours. You'd sooner fucking die.

Speaking off? Some fuckers never learn. Another "life was mean n unfair so I'm gonna take that out on everyone weaker then me, instead of aiming for the people actually responsible, cause I'm a COWARD" mother fucker. And LOOK! How original! He has bom-...

Wait, FUCK-!!!

The bastard HAD bombs. You, along with most of the idiot "hero chaser~♡!" Crowd you were trying to get PASSED, got thrown back. At least it didn't hit directly. Those up front would have died. Which? From the sounds of panic? Is finally starting to OCCUR to those idiots.

You DON'T SAY? Really. Getting near open combat? Dangerous? Fucking Shocking!

Still, you pull yourself up off your back (fucking OW, you don't sleep on your back for a REASON). Fling your hand forward to let your talons slam onto the concrete (not like it can get any MORE fucked up, who's gonna notice a few holes?) then lever yourself up and forward.

You let the, admittedly, incredible strength of your jacked upper body, do more the just roll you upright. You GRIP. Push off. Muscles rolling under your intentionally baggy clothes as you move, like the apex predator you both are and pretend not to be.

Cause there's kids. There's ALWAYS fuckin kids at these things. They want to see the Heros(~☆™). Want to BE them. Have no goddamned idea how dangerous what they're doing IS because everyone around them treats as safe, normal.

But it's NOT.

And now those kids are hurt and on the ground.

They are scared, confused, and don't know what to do. The adults around them more concerned with saving themselves then protecting the most vulnerable amongst them. You shove passed. It's EASY.

With your wings? With the muscles that came WITH them? The size you got from either your Quirk or just dear ol dad? You are a TANK. If you say move. They MOVE.

You get to the kids. Raptor eyes and sensitivity to blood, perfect for hunting, picking out prey. Even BETTER for picking out boo-boos. That's right everybody, big bird lady, here with band-aids and the reassuring Adult Voice Of Command In A Scary Situation. We're all okay. Everybody together now.

You assess the damage. Not great, could be worse. At least they aren't preschoolers. You nearly got ARRESTED that time for almost punching a cop. The one with the badly twisted ankle can't stand. You haul him up under an arm. You'd toss him over a shoulder, but he'd be exposed.

Time to- The children scream in terror. Your head snaps around, towards the fight. What the HELL have they been DOING?! How has it gotten-!? One of the Villians attacks is headed directly at you and the kids.

FUCK Vigilante Laws. You're not dying today. Neither are these kids!

Your wings snap out to their full size.

Curving like a deep, earth toned, fortress of feathers around you, as you raise them to shield yourself. You activate Strong Bird. (Your dad had Strong Man, your mom had Pretty Bird. Yeah, they thought they were clever when they had a really REALLY powerful avian Quirked kid. Gee! What to name THAT quirk?)

Your wings, already powerful, become nigh unbreakable in their strength. You can't hold it long. But you don't NEED too. Just to tank a hit... that never comes.

You don't know what's happening and you don't CARE. Amateur hour out there nearly got these kids killed TWICE. So the wings stay up. C'mon fledgling, everybody back up, nice 'n slow. Hmm? Yeah. Yeah, sweetheart. JUST like ducklings.

Of course, while the kids get EMTs? (As they should) You get the delightful threat chorus of the City's Finest. Serve and Protect, everybody! You'd grin and bear it... but you kinda have fangs. Lil baby ones. But APPARENTLY they count as "threatening a police officer". Quirkist mother fuc-

"Problem, officer?"

Too close! Hand on shoulder! AAAH, FUCK! You jump. Wing slaming out in reflex, trying to dislodge the "suprise attack". You didn't hear his come up behind you! SILENT MOTHER FUC-!!! You whip around to the sound of snickering.

Delighted eyes more suited to a corvid then the raptor they're attached too, mock back at you. The Avian/Winged Quirks of Japan Golden Boy. Mr. Model himself. Fuckin Hawks, in all his fuckboi glory.

".....I'm not apologizing. You snuck up on me." You growl, FULLY ignoring the offended noise the officer next to makes.

You... do NOT like the corvid grin, Hawks is giving you. He seems fully aware of it.

The longer you both lock eyes... the more your feathers puff up. Shoulders slowly rising to damn near your ears. S...Stop That! I'm BIGGER THEN YOU! I could take you! You... you WANNA GO, you flighty lil shit!?

He reachs forward. Telegraphing his moves. And...?

Tugs at a flight feather.

YOU PUNCH HIM.

The Judge is very understanding. Your lawyer, paid for by Hawks, somehow gets you community service at his agency. (You wish you punched him harder. But those are INSIDE thoughts.) It? Wouldn't be so bad... if he wasn't such a little corvid CREEP.

Always trying to startle you. Endless wing tugging. Staring contests. Stealing your lunch. Stealing BACK your lunch once you've stolen it from HIM. Moving your SHIT. It's like he's TRYING to set off Every Single Instinct You HAVE.

You're gonna kill him.

This is your Supervillian origin story. Mr. "Ooooh~ isn't it a SHAME you can't fly? I can fly!" LORDING his FUCKING LICENSE over you like a [censored in untranslatable Raptor swearing]!!!

If you find! ONE MORE! Of his FUCKING FEATHERS!!! In your shit?! You are gonna running tackling him out the nearest WALL. And frankly? You don't CARE what magazine he's in now! Stop SHOWING YOU! Stop filling your desk! Stop SITTING on your desk! Yeah, yeah, world's greatest hunter. You caught a purse thief today. Woooo. Good for you.

We're it not for the many, MANY witnesses? These Talons would...

"Love to see ya TRY~" the asshole croons, leaning forward, into your space. "You're fast. But I'm FASTER! But hey, maybe ya manage it! Go ahead. Big strong grip, you might even catch me~ DO you WANT to catch me, my lil hunter?"

Condescending FUCKER. What, because he's a hero, you're no threat AT ALL?

You slam your hands down on your desk, either side of him, to pull yourself to your feet. To TOWER above him like a wrathful avian god. You're so furious... you don't notice the way his eyes dilate. The shudder that goes through him.

The way his calculating golden eyes follow you as you storm away, a titan of feathers and wrath, from behind his ever fixed PR mask.

He steals another pen.

He knows it's going to aggravate you. As is the doodling on you paperwork. The swiping of several random pages. The moving your paperweight. Wing tugging. Pay attention to me. Mischief and danger. It's just a passing whim, he tells himself. He'll get bored, he lies. We have nothing in common!

(Cages come in so many shapes. Is your's as unbearable as mine?)

[a-hundred-musings]

You know, here's a small rant from me: I hate it when Celebrimbor is shown to be a "softie-boy" or a "naïve child" or just... someone condescending and stupid. Like, yeah I'm guilty of it too (who isn't?) but it just makes me wonder why he's presented as that in fics anywhere.

I read this fic on AO3? Celebrimbor is a stupid duck. Or he's just very naïve and easy to prank. I read another fic? Celebrimbor is a whiny baby who can't stand up for himself. I read another one? He's a man-child.

Look, I get why he's presented in that way, but can we not do that? Especially considering the things this boy has gone through which really wouldn't make him a "child-like" person, but more of a mature adult who has experienced things no one should ever experience.

Before and during the First Age, he's experienced so much:

Nerdanel and Feanor falling out -- that basically messed up entire Aman back then, but mainly their kids, so imagine how Curufin would have reacted to that.

The feud between Feanor and Fingolfin and Finarfin

The time when Feanor threatened Fingolfin

The time when the Two Trees were destroyed

The time when Melkor killed his great-grandfather Finwe.

Feanor going Mad™

The uprising of the Noldor

The First Kinslaying

His grandfather going feral and his father and uncles swearing an oath on a literal suicide-mission

One of his youngest uncles getting burned and basically died (or lived, depends on which version you follow)

A time of literal darkness. Like, no light at all. It really messed up the psyche of so many people.

Feanor abandoning his brother on the shores of Valinor -- that would mess up anyone really.

A literal battle. Like, more blood is being shed -- not only of elves, but of other creatures Tyelpe has probably never seen or heard of before.

His grandfather being so consumed by his fire and spontaneously combusting. That too, he either saw or heard of Feanor literally bursting into flames -- that is pretty traumatising.

The crossing of the Helcaraxe -- no seriously, that would mess anyone up knowing that people they love are literally walking on glaciers and over deathly waters with a 50% chance of survival.

Maedhros being crowned King of the Noldor, and an unspoken fact that there is more than one king of the Noldor -- the political implications here...

The abduction of Maedhros. Need this be explained further?

His uncles and father being concerningly close to starting a whole world-war

The rising of the Sun and the moon (like, what are those big spheres in the sky? Are they something from Melkor? Are they a sign of the End™? What is it?)

The arrival of Fingolfin's group, with more dead and furious people.

The mental health of everyone deteriorating. No, I won't explain because this era was filled with bad times.

No one knowing what to do now, since Maglor was naturally crowned the Regent King of the Noldor, and he has his own problems.

After 34 years of wondering what on earth has happened to Maedhros, he returns scarred with no right hand, and presumed torture marks.

Everyone literally holding their breaths for what will happen next.

Maedhros surrendering his crown to Fingolfin. That would hurt bad like a blow.

Literally only a few years of peace filled with tension.

Fingolfin decides to kick Melkor's arse and dies.

The Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

The Second Kinslaying.

The Fall of Gondolin

Making the decision of abandoning his father and uncles, going on his own separate path.

The death of so many of his family members and father and uncles. That is messed up. The amount of psychological trauma he's already been through...

Like, imagine his guilt of not being there with his father, imagine how much he second-guessed his actions...

The Third Kinslaying. The deaths of more elves, his uncle (or uncles), and really, just more death.

The crown of the Noldor being passed on so many times until it reached Gil-Galad. Imagine the humiliation and just the shock of the realisation of the number of people who have been crowned within a span of a few centuries.

The kidnapping of Elrond and Elros. While it probably wouldn't harm Tyelpe's psychological health, it must have been pretty messed up to find out that your two remaining uncles have committed a few more war crimes.

The War of the Wrath. Now, while it was mainly against Men, there is no doubt that some elves have been killed due to the war (given Gil-Galad's camps etc), so imagine him getting into some stray fights with the orcs or those Men who follow Melkor.

The Fourth Kinslaying. No need to further elaborate.

The death of Maedhros, and Maglor becoming a cryptid. Who wouldn't that mess up?

Surviving the First Age. Like, give this Tyelpe the recognition he truly deserves. Give him a few rings and trophies for enduring so long and he still hasn't gone down to insanity. That too, all this happened within the span of like, 600 years.

The Second Age:

Beleriand is under the sea

His "cousins" (Elrond and Elros) going their separate ways

The death of Elros (I think this is pretty self-explanatory, given the numerous HCs on the twins and Celebrimbor)

No one has any idea what has happened to Maglor. Is he alive? Is he dead? Who knows.

Rumours of a sinister evil lurking in the shadows and really, some tensions are visibly arising.

He finds this very powerful and alluring stranger who knows quite a bit about the art of smithing. They collaborate despite warnings from Galadriel, Gil-Galad, Elrond and a few others.

After giving thought to make powerful rings, Annatar watches over as Celebrimbor makes the rings for Men and Dwarves.

Newsflash: Annatar wants the rings, and he tainted them.

Celebrimbor makes the 3 Elven Rings in secret so Annatar can't get to them, but he gets kidnapped and tortured.

Like, really badly tortured. Annatar wants those 3 rings.

Celebrimbor eventually is killed, and is impaled on a spear, then given to Gil-Galad's camp after years of torture.

He went straight to his family. Can't tell if this will add to his trauma, but still.

While he didn't survive the Second Age, this boy went through so much pain, and... really, I feel like he doesn't get much of the appreciation he deserves.

Thank you for coming to my little rant as to why we need more fics that paint Celebrimbor as someone who isn't a stupid and naïve child, but more of a wiser version of Feanor and Curufin. He is not a tantrummy baby, for Ilúvatar's sake!

[rjalker]

Edit: Can't believe the irony of me having to say this, but I do apparently have to say this: Not wanting boobs and not wanting to be seen as feminine does not mean you are, or want to be seen as masculine. I'm not transmasculine just because I don't want boobs and don't want to be seen as feminine.

You cannot read a post where the point is having boobs does not equal being feminine and go oh! right. Because not wanting boobs equals being masculine! No!! I'm not transmasculine! I'm not trying to look masculine! Kill the gender binary that has a stranglehold on your views of gender!

Stop shoving nonbinary people into a new set of binary boxes!

___

the idea that having boobs gets you automatically and inherently classified as being "female presenting" and "feminine presenting" in so-called progressive circles makes me want to maul people.

I've said this before and I'll just keep repeating it forever: I'm disabled. I can't wear a binder. If I tried I'd dislocate several ribs and that'd be the least of my worries. Like. you know why ribs not being where they're supposed to be is dangerous? Yeah. Yeah. Use your imagination. That's a real thing I have to worry about.

I can't even wear a sports bra that's several sizes """too large""" comfortably.

And yeah, I can use trans tape, but that takes concerted time and effort to put on and take off, and every time you put it on you get different results, and you might just mess it up entirely and waste it, and it can get itchy if you're sweating with it on (and it's 90 degrees almost all the time it's not actively winter here, so that's...literally unavoidable. Even sitting in the living room. Because the electric company charges an arm and a leg for AC during the summer AND won't even give you enough to actually cool your shitty tiny apartment even with all the doors shut and curtains drawn!!!!!), and it's expensive to buy more of.

And especially because this declaration of "feminine presenting" or "female presenting" that gets shoved onto you is not only misgendering you, but placing the blame on you for being misgendered for not looking not-female enough. It's no longer the speaker making incorrect assumptions, they're now literally declaring that this is a concious decision you make. You are choosing to "present" yourself this way...by having a body that you have no control over.

And even when it comes to clothes, the idea that the clothes you wear is another purposeful, conscious Presentation™ of your gender...

Even if we ignore for a moment the fact that being disabled and poor severely limits the clothes you can wear and even just have access to, what about people who literally don't get to choose what their clothes are? Kids whose parents buy their clothes for them, people whose carers choose their outfits for them?

My gender is not "sun-bleached tank top and shorts with a reflective sun hat". That's just what I wear so I don't die of heat stroke every time I set foot outside, and so that my joints are not being painfully constricted every time I move. I literally can't take my hat off outside during the day without developing a headache (or are they fucking migraines? fuck if I know!) within minutes from the sun trying to murder me from my light sensitivity. And it took me years to even realize that it was light sensitivity causing this. I remember in middle school the substitute gym teacher asked if I was a vampire because I moved to the closest shady spot every time we moved to a new area.

And like. Let's be honest. Even if I could safely wear a binder...They're fucking expensive.

It's just really fucking annoying that so many people equate binding with being trans and so many people who are supposed to be allies are just so comfortable labeling other people, who they haven't asked, as "feminine presenting" just because of the presence of boobs. Like we have any choice in the matter. Like having visible boobs just means you're asking to be misgendered.

[alcorianight]

I did not realize this got so long, so rambly word vomit under the cut

I do think more attention should be paid to the absolute horror Jason must have felt after coming out of the Lazarus pit like a foot taller and built like a damn fridge.

Like he died at 15, tiny, still small due to malnutrition and then the leading theory is that the Lazarus pit cures that and beefed him up. For one, that's gotta mess with his motor control a ton, especially when you consider that normal growth spurts cause a period of clumsiness (think jarring steps, toe stubbing, knocking your elbow on doorknobs or whatever), so a total body overhaul -Lazarus Edition™ - might be enough to keep him from even walking properly, let alone fight skillfully and gracefully.

Even if you say he got his coordination back from training or comic book science meant the pits didn't fuck that up, being small was probably a major part of his identity. Consider Jason before Bruce. He was tiny, but still resourceful and strong enough to jack tires. But being tiny was useful. Being tiny meant more hiding spaces were available. It meant he was unassuming. It meant people's eyes skipped over him. It meant avoiding attention. It meant safety.

And sure, Jason probably complained about being small when he was Robin. Probably even dreamed of being big as a street kid because being big meant having power, but being big on the streets meant being noticed and he knew that. It was something to dream about when he was older but not what he needed then.

I've also seen people headcanon that Jason is claustrophobic from the coffin, and I kinda vibe with that, and being bigger also screws with that because things feel so much bigger when you're small. If you think about it, elevators and the like probably felt a lot more spacious when you were a kid. So not only has his body been drastically changed without his consent (and I haven't really touched on that here, but also consider how it has to affect Jason Todd (who champions consent and autonomy and personal safety of the little guy) to have experienced nonconsensual body modification first hand like that) but it can actively cause him more mental distress.

And I think, coming out of the pit, the memory of his death still fresh in his mind, and stuck in the League of Assassins, maybe being small would have been comforting. He could still access all the same hiding places he would immediately clock. And while the image of a big man hiding somewhere clearly too small for him might be funny, it's also heart wrenching because he's lost so many safe places in a single moment.

Of course when Jason does go back to Gotham he's learned to use his new body and the fact that it makes him intimidating as hell, but I think there's another negative there as well. Because as Robin he comforted people. No Robin is ever soft but they are all almost definitely better at comforting victims than Batman (maybe not Damian, but he's a baby which is simultaneously more and less comforting) and a big part of that is because they're kids. Kids just aren't as intimidating as giant ass adults and I can imagine that this probably messed with Jason when he first got back to Gotham and tried to talk to the street kids or the working girls because those are groups of people who are going to be suspicious of men built like a goddamn fridge. He can't come up to them like he did as Robin, and I'm sure over time he's won their trust and they find him a symbol of safety, but the first few interactions have to hit hard because it feels like he doesn't belong in a place that's been his first home. That somehow he no longer fits right where he always did before.

I also can't imagine how disconcerting it must be to not recognize your reflection for like every part of yourself. Like, this one time I had makeup done for an event (not my idea) and it was so heavy that I didn't recognize myself and I felt so uncomfortable with that and that was just my face. My hair, my height, my build - all of that was still familiar, comfortable, but can you imagine being unable to recognize even that? And if he avoids mirrors to avoid seeing his reflection, he might not even be able to recognize himself in pictures and videos. (There's a fanfic with this idea and it definitely inspires this post because I honestly never considered this before and I thought it was so well written and such a good point that we don't pay enough attention to. You should totally check it out if you got this far.)

The last point I have for this post has to do with his relationship with Bruce. So typical timeline (I think) for Jason is he dies at 15, crawls out of his grave about 6 months later, is catatonic for 3 years, and then spends a year mentally present training with the League of Assassins on his world tour or whatever. I am fuzzy on the details here but basically from his birthday, Jason can't be older than 19-20 when he comes back to Gotham (I think 19 is the accepted age) but mentally he's 16 and for some fucking reason DC artists like to draw him like he's over 30. THIS IS A PROBLEM! Like this is an extremely fucked up 16 year old kid that should be trapped in a 19 year old's body but instead it's so much worse because (and I've seen someone describe him like this before) he's actually trapped inside the body of a 35 year old divorcee AND THAT IS NOT OKAY! Like even if we're gonna say that the Lazarus pit alters the body to peak physical health that would be like 22 or some shit. Past 30 is not a physical prime. You can be fit for sure at 30 but that doesn't change the fact that your ability to build muscle and heal and whatever else are probably better in your early to mid 20s and hey guess what that's still younger than Dick's accepted age (or maybe about the same (I have stayed up too late writing this to keep proper track of numbers)). But Jason looks older than Dick more often than not (the Gotham Knights game will never be forgiven for whatever the fuck happened to Jay's character design).

Okay sorry for the sidetrack, but Jason looking older is gonna fuck with Bruce because Bruce is gonna have a real hard time seeing his tiny, malnourished, never gonna top 5'4 Jaylad in this giant hulk of a figure, especially when the age is so off. Like imagine you have a kid who goes to college and does a ton of internships or research so you don't really see them for 4 years, you're still gonna expect your kid to look like they're 22-23. If they look like they're 35 you sure as hell are not gonna pinpoint that as your kid. So Bruce sees Jason and it makes sense that he doesn't think that's his kid BECAUSE THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HIS KID! (I'm ignoring the moral differences in this post) So Bruce doesn't see a kid when he looks at Jason but Jason is mentally 16 and, despite everything he says to the contrary, he sees his dad when he looks at Bruce. Jason doesn't see an equal, someone who is just another adult. This is his dad, an authority figure in his life, someone whos opinions and words hold power over him whether he wants them to or not. But Bruce can't see that. Because Bruce doesn't see a kid. He doesn't see his son. He sees an equal and that's tragic because you're always supposed to be your parents' baby. Even when you're 50 with your own family and nearly adult kids, you're still gonna be your parents little baby. Because parents see their kids at all the ages they've ever been and it's the fact that Jason doesn't have someone who looks at him and sees him how he was when he was 2 and 7 and 10 and 13 and 15 when he still feels 16 that makes this so sad. Because no one's been his parent for long enough to really build that and Bruce can't see Robin!Jason in the Jason that came back.

Wow, uh, I'm really sorry to anyone who reads this. This really got away from me and it's super unorganized and I just kinda word vomitted all over this. This was just supposed to be about how his body was different. How did Bruce end up in this?

[highwayorgantrade]

Art History

Pairing: (cis)fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Cursing, the most mild nsfw (basically intense kissing and references to sex), minor choking, general tomfoolery.

Summary: A certain doctor helps you find resources for your college art history class.

Spotify Playlist: Art History

A/N: Aaah okay my first fic on this blog!! I'm so excited to get back into writing, especially with my favorite characters and people. Also, I'm sorry, I love Esmé as much as everyone else does, she does not exist here and Carlisle is the Ultimate Single Father™. And God, I did not expect it to be this long!!

The way that you met the Cullens was, at best, not ideal. A broken down car here, the offer of a ride there. It wasn't a bad thing - the friendship you had with the family had lasted all through high school up to a local community college.

When they told you the truth about who they were, what they were, you thought it was a joke.

"Yeah, very funny. Halloween isn't for another two months, and you can't all go as vampires, that would be so stupid." You snorted, returning to the homework that was scattered on the dining room table.

"(Y/N)... Think about it." Alice placed her hand on your shoulder, forcing you to listen.How are you just now noticing her hands are so cold? "Have you ever seen any of us eat? Go into the sun?"

You didn't want to think about it, you knew they would never lie to you like this. It's too insane to be a lie. But didn't they lie and pretend like they were human? It was just all too confusing, so naturally, it took you a few days before you starting going around their house again. They answered all your questions, even when you decided to punish them all a bit for not telling you sooner.

"So, have you ever thought about the ecological damage you might be doing with all the hunting?" You had been interrogating them for hours, but honestly? They were grateful. Grateful that you didn't run off and tell the entire town, or worse, flee from Forks and lose you forever.

"Honestly, we all have different preferences." Emmett replied cooly, as if you were chatting about movies. "I prefer some of the bigger stuff: Bears, wildcats. It's mostly deer, though."

"Never people." Carlisle confirms with a smile, and you almost immediately regret giving him a chance to speak. Before their confession, the pounding of your heart was a fun secret, a dream you knew would never come true. The scenarios have run through your head all the time, anytime you looked at him. And those rare moments where you felt brave enough to make eye contact? But now, you knew that it was basically a public confession. You never talked about it. The Cullens never did, either.

"I know one of you has to know something about the Reliquary of Sainte Foy." You sighed, dropping your bag at your feet.

"Please, (y/n), come in." Edward quipped from the living room.

"I mean, this whole thing makes no sense!" You continued, thinking back to every single time you've used Edward to complain. "First, she starts off the semester with the Renaissance, then goes to modern minimalism, then back to freakin' Jesus times?"

"You know," Alice strode in, reading over the same paper, "When I have questions about art history, I usually ask Carlisle." She leaned against the counter. "He's the oldest of us." The look her and Edward shared were lost to you, as you already began to think of excuses as to why you shouldn't be alone in a room with him. The fear of looking and sounding stupid overcame the desire to just do anything with him. The desire to mess up that stupidly perfect hair of his, or his cold hands roughly wrapping around your-.

No. Absolutely not.

"Ah, no! I wouldn't want to bother him. He's probably super busy, with all of his... doctoring stuff-"

"Nonsense." Edward smiled. "He would be overjoyed to help."

"Edward, seriously, don't-" You pleaded, but it was too late. Carlisle's name echoed throughout the house, but it felt like a death bell.

"I hope you find your answers!" Alice quickly took her exit out the front door, with Edward following right behind her, with a polite "Excuse me."

"(Y/N)!" He greeted you fondly, noticing Edward and Alice's backs as they walked deeper into the forest that surrounded the house. "Didn't Edward call for me?" He was watching them, but you were watching how he saw you and immediately smiled, and the way his arms flexed on the table.

Stop.

"Yeah, he did. They insisted that you could help me with art history, but this is old, old crap, and like, yeah, you're old, but you're not that old, so it's not really..." He began to smile again. "Super important." You finished, suddenly very aware of how you were standing. And how your hand rested so close to his. And how hot your face suddenly got.

"Well, what is it you need my help with?" He took your assignment paper. "The Reliquary of Sainte Foy. Around what time was that?" He looked back at you.

"Uh, the- Jesus times. Like upper double digits for the year. Which, I mean, I don't know when you were born, but I don't think you're that old, I mean you're still fun and pretty cool." God, why couldn't you just stop talking!

"Come on." He turned his back, taking your picking up your bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "I think I have something in my office."

His office? He's taking you to his office? You've been inside of it before, but it wasn't just him and you, it was him and his kids. Just keep reminding yourself: You are his children's friend. You're friends with every single one of this man's children. You're probably not even on his radar! A (publicly) mid-30 year old local surgeon, and men that looked like him in this part of Washington was rare. And to be going after a college student? Pull it together.

The steely resolve quickly crumbled as he held the door open for you to walk past him, and if you had any doubts he could hear your heart before, they were absolutely gone. You could hear your pounding heart in your head. The office was gorgeous, a few lamps and some candles gave the dark office a warm glow, and you could see he had been actively working on... something?

"I'm so sorry, did I interrupt something?" You glanced at the papers on his desk.

"Oh, no, I was just going over some old files. You could never interrupt me."

Oh.

"Now." He began scanning a section of his large bookshelves. "I unfortunately was not born in 'Jesus times,' but I was born in 1640, and my father was an Anglican priest, so I might have something about early Christian relics." He finally pulled a large dark blue book from the shelf and handed it to you. "What about The Book of Sainte Foy? Written in 1010 A.D. and translated in 1995."

"Yes, please, that would be amazing." You replied quickly, eager to spend as little time in this room as possible.

"(Y/N), you seem stressed. If college is getting to be too much, you could always take a break." His eyebrows knit together and set the book on his desk. Your eyes followed his hand and you swallowed. This cannot be happening.

"Uh, no, it's not college! College is fine. It's just... other stuff." Your hands clasped together to try and ease some of your nerves.

"Well, (Y/N), if it's something more personal, you know you can always talk to me. I've enjoyed having you around and I hate to see you upset." You knew he was trying to ease information out of you, but his words just made it harder.

"Carlisle, I-" Oh god. No. Stop talking. His hand came to rest on your upper arm, his icy hand almost burning your hot skin. You've imagined this so many times "It's you!"

Wait. No! Keep talking! The look of slight shock and confusion on his face combined with the gentle grip he had on your arm had wiped your brain of whatever you were going to say. His hand relaxed and fell back to his side.

"Me? (Y/N), did I make you uncomfortable?" His voice was soft, but serious. Fix this, now!

"No! Well, sort of. But no! Just... listen." You rubbed the back of your neck, shifting your weight between your legs. He leaned back against his desk and looked at you.

This was going to be hard.

"It's just... You make me nervous because you know, you're like a genetically modified beauty of a human being. I mean, have you seen yourself? Actually seen yourself?"

Carlisle opened his mouth to respond but he couldn't get the words out before you continued.

"You are... gorgeous. And I know, Edward's complained to me about that whole 'Oh, our beauty just lures in innocent prey so we can destroy them,' thing, but you're just a... a genuinely beautiful person. You help people in need, you go to some extreme lengths to help people because why? Because you're a doctor and it's what you do, damn it! It's amazing. You're amazing." You took a breath, filling your lungs with all the words you've kept to yourself. "And I like your hands."

And you like his hands? That's what your confession is ending on? Okay, own it.

"You like my hands?" He questioned, biting back a smile. Of course that's what he focused on. "Tell me about my hands." He stood up off his desk and moved closer to you. You felt like the breath was being sucked out of your lungs as you tried to organize your thoughts.

"Well, they're..." His hand came up to your face, thumb grazing your cheekbone.

"Go on."

"I like the way they're..." In an effort to look anywhere else but his eyes, you glanced down to his chest. His face seemed to inch closer to yours as you searched for words you knew you wouldn't find. The hand on your face traveled to the back of your neck, and his other hand found the small of your back. Your hands rested on his biceps, your last attempt to try to cover up your attraction towards him.

"Tell me you want this." Carlisle whispered, pressing you closer to him, encouraged by your racing heart.

"I want this so bad." You admitted, and those were the words that broke the both of you. He pressed you against a bookshelf as his lips met yours, and the amount of passion coming from Carlisle was shocking. His thumb came around your neck to wrap around the front, and the simple weight of his hand caused you to moan in his mouth. He smiled into the kiss and your hands went to his hair, tugging as gently as you could.

"Jump." He whispered in between kisses. The faint taste of spearmint lingered, and you whined at the loss.

"What?" You pulled back and stared at him.

"Jump."

God, please let his vampire strength come in clutch. You wrapped your legs around his waist and his hands found the bottom of your thighs. He placed you on top of his desk, careful as to not disturb any documents or books, and pulled you in again. this time, there was something different. The kiss was more insistent, more demanding.

"More." He groaned, and slotted his head into the curve of your neck, biting gently, and kissing the same spots.

You had never seen Carlisle like this, never this... out of control.

"So, when is this paper due?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. He walked back to the door of his office, laying his hand on the doorknob. You simply stared at him, still catching your breath. Did he seriously just ask that? Now? "Is it tonight?"

"No?"

"Good." He grinned at you, and turned the lock. "Because it's not getting done."