#red's writings

[redhairedmuses]

in which a captain is finally captured by a siren...

I recently commissioned my dear friend, @imrowanartist to create a wonderful piece to really capture this moment in my Pirate/COD AU. Rowan did *such* a wonderful job I was completely awestruck by the final image. Absolutely breathtaking and beautiful.

So, without further adieu, here is an excerpt from my upcoming long-fic, Half a Creature from the Sea.

Stormy blue eyes find brown with flecks of gold and Price is not sure if it is desire or desperation fueling his veins. His heart is already threatening to burst out of his chest. He can feel the hard pounding of it against his ribs. It aches and burns in such a way he's half-tempted to cut it from his chest and present it at Kyle's feet as a sacrifice. 

Perhaps that would satisfy him long enough where these feelings, these desires, would finally leave him. 

How one man, a siren, managed to seduce him in just a few short weeks baffles him. He’s not entirely sure when it changed. When the lines blurred and he found himself wanting Kyle in a way he doesn’t deserve. But now, even as his eyes search for answers in Kyle’s golden eyes, he finds none. In fact, there are no answers to his question. He supposes that it just happened. 

His arm starts to give way, and he no longer has the strength to maintain his composure. He’s lost this battle.

The siren has him. Kyle has him. 

And like a shark smelling blood in the water, Kyle strikes, surging forward and crashing their lips together in a messy tangle of teeth and tongues, and John finds himself sinking under the waves and into the abyss.

He responds to the aggressive nature of the kiss with a quick nip of teeth on Kyle’s bottom lip. Kyle’s answering gasp adds more fuel to the growing fire between them. The air is already thick with tension and now it threatens to crack. He licks into Kyle’s mouth, tasting every inch he’s allowed until his lungs object. He ends the first of many kisses and drops his mouth to Kyle’s exposed collarbone, panting and aching for air. 

"Christ, Kyle," he rasps. He noses at Kyle's collarbone, inhaling the young man's scent again, committing it to memory. "I’m not going to be gentle with you." 

His hands, wrought with so much sin, grip Kyle’s hips, tight like a vice. He presses closer, unable to let the other man go. A hand rests at the back of his neck, steadying, grounding. It squeezes once and he almost sinks to his knees. He takes a breath to right himself. "I’m not–" He hesitates again. Words fail him. He forces himself to look at Kyle despite the gnawing feeling of guilt that curls inside his stomach. 

"I’m not a good man, Kyle," is what he manages to choke out. 

Kyle nods, so easily and accepting. He shouldn't want him, not with all the red in his ledger. "I know." 

"I’m a killer too."

"I’ve seen you in action, Captain. Quite attractive." 

John licks his lips in an effort to hide the smile that threatens to spread. "You deserve a better man than me." 

Kyle’s long fingers drift to grasp him by the chin and holds him steady, forcing him to really look at him. "Let me be the judge of that, John." 

For a moment, John is unsure if he heard Kyle correctly. In just a few simple words, Kyle has laid his heart out. Baring his intentions, his desires. He is unfazed by the killer standing in his boots. 

He knows what he is. He has always known. 

Ferocious. Ruthless. Dangerous. 

He should be soft with Kyle. Gentle. Kind. Kyle deserves that and more. He deserves a better man, but it is clear that the man wants none of that. He’s not afraid of sharp claws and teeth. John briefly forgets that Kyle is a siren too. A creature of legend, and one with a reputation just as deadly as his own. 

A thought looms in the darkest parts of his mind as he draws his eyes to Kyle’s unblemished neck where the faint lines of his gills grace his skin. The marks he is going to leave on this man will be a symbol of his prize. His victory. They will not become a bad memory. He refuses to let that happen. 

John surges forward, capturing Kyle’s lips again, mirroring their first kiss. He crowds the younger man into the door, pinning him there. Teeth clashing, tongues wrestling, and hands seeking out skin. One hand abandons Kyle’s hip, opting to grasp at the back of his neck while the other slides under his loose shirt, grazing against skin. His fingers dig into the meat of Kyle’s neck, just shy of that pressure point he knows will have the other man on his knees for him. Kyle’s hand slips from his chin to fumble at his neck. Those long fingers he’s fantasized about for far too long curl around his neck while the other is clutching his shirt sleeve. 

"Alright there, Gaz?" John asks against Kyle’s lips. He draws back to provide Kyle a reprieve and take in the bewildered and wild look in the siren’s gold eyes. 

Kyle nods, lips swollen from the kisses and bites. "Yeah. I can handle myself. Don’t worry about me, sir." 

John shakes his head briefly before leaning back in and kissing Kyle again, softer this time. "I think you can drop the ‘sir’, now." 

"And I-" Kyle punctuates with another kiss of his own. "Think you like it."

(tbc...)

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[webshood]

time travel fanfic idea where Jason comes back to before he was adopted, him and Batman still meet and he still ends up being adopted by Bruce Wayne, but he just refuses to acknowledge Batman and Robin, he acts like a civilian boy, he has over thirteen extracurriculars that Bruce does his best to keep up with. He regularly works out and trains all the fighting he's learned over the years, he goes on a gap year before college to recuperate the all blades and pretends to be the civilian in a family of crime fighting vigilantes.

He's doing pre-med and keeps nagging his siblings to go to college too (Cass, Tim), Duke is the one who spends more time with him bc everyone else is nocturnal and sleep through the day, but Jason likes to drive Duke to his classes and pick him up so they can have lunch together, Damian had a hard time at first, because Jason speaks every language that he speaks and all bat related things have to stay at the cave, his league training didn't prepare him for a civilian brother.

During an attempted kidnapping during one of the Wayne galas, Jason's whole plan almost gets blow up because one of the guys has taken a woman hostage and his Red Hood fried brain just pounced on the dude with all his might, wrestled him for the gun and kept him stuck under his boot with the gun pointed between the guys brows.

He had to pretend to be scared when Batman came to the rescue and act like he didn't know how to handle a gun.

+ Alfred 100% thinks Jason was on a children gang and that's why he's so good with knives, guns and rifles, but who's he to say anything about people's past

[secretidentie]

When Jason starts building his crime lord career, people start inexplicably comparing him to Matches Malone. They have the same mannerisms, the same fighting styles and a similar build. Some rogues even have theories that they're the same guy.

So when ever Matches is mentioned, red hood mutters "fuck that guy" under his breath and since Bruce puts his whole batussy into his personas, he's starts reciprocating that energy. All the rogues are scrambling to find out what happened to cause this beef. The entire Gotham underground now has to pick a side between one of their own who they've worked with and gotten to know over the years versus the new up and coming crime lord that's offering jobs and improving their lives. While Jason is wondering what he can do to stop being compared to Bruce, Bruce is trying to be a supportive parent (which means making sure the rogues don't turn on J) while protecting his persona he's been curating for years.

[redactedrem]

Headcanon where after so many arguments between the batkids and Bruce over his paranoia and complete disregard for his kids privacy, the entire family had compromised with (in the healthiest way possible) downloading life360 on their phones and that's how they all keep track of each other.

Now Bruce knew that this is mostly for his benefit and is supposed to be a healthy alternative for his unhealthy paranoia and helicopter parenting, but what he wasn't expecting was for his kids to start keeping track of him.

He's putting gas in his car and Dick calls him because apparently Dick has been watching him drive around on the app? And Bruce is currently at a gas station thats right around the corner from a Taco Bell and now Dick wants him to get food for everyone since he's already there.

He's driving home from a meeting and Steph calls him because her and Duke were shopping in the area and wants to know if he can pick them up, when he asks how she knew he was on the same street, he gets a "Oh I just like to stalk everyone on the app for funsies." as an answer.

Jason calls him and he can barely get out a hello before Jason cuts him off, "Bruce why the fuck is your phone battery on 5%, charge your damn phone" which completely stuns him because why does he know that. He clears his throat before answering. "Jason, what?"

"Everyone can see each others phone batteries on '360, now charge your phone." Is all he gets before Jason hangs up on him.

[everwalldigan]

Bruce: *waking up in a hospital that he drove himself to after having a heart attack and telling absolutely nobody* hey…

The entirety of the batclan looking over him with Dick in the centre, an absolute terrifying grin on his face:

Dick: hello Bruce, nice evening isn’t it? Got something to share with us?

Edit: the fic is now out on ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57780508

[foldingfittedsheets]

Jobs don’t always limit the skills you learn to the job itself. For instance, when I worked at Red Robin, they’d offer 30 minutes for an unpaid lunch, or 15 if you wanted to get paid the whole time. If you think that’s extremely shitty join the club.

As a result of wanting money I got really good at eating quickly so I could use my break to read or relax. I’ve always been a fast eater but when I worked there I learned how to eat an entire burger and fries in under five minute while keeping up a conversation. This is not advisable for good digestion, eat slow and chew your food.

There’s a balance to not talking with your mouth full and eating extremely quickly and it was a regularly used skill for years. When I worked at a sex shop I bragged about it once to a coworker.

She watched me with a timer going after I told her about it and we got burgers. I chatted with her the whole time. I was done in four minutes forty seconds.

Afterward she looked haunted and commented, “It was like watching a snake unhinge it’s jaw but you never talked with food in your mouth!”

More recently my beloved and I were catching up with a friend over lunch. I had a sandwich while they’d gotten falafel plates. We were having a lovely chat but after I finished a story our friend said, “I don’t want your food to go cold while you talk!”

I was surprised. I’d been deliberately talking more so she could eat. I turned to show her my empty sandwich box. Both she and my beloved were stunned. It was like I’d performed a magic trick and made my sandwich disappear because neither had even noticed me demolishing it like a snake unhinging it’s jaw.

[lgbtlunaverse]

Nothing will dispell the "the curtains were just blue" myth faster than writing something yourself, because the amount of pretentious symbolism i am putting in my silly little fanfics is ridiculous. I mean SO much with these words, literally every single one of them. This fic has twenty five typos and zero correct uses of punctuation but if there's curtains you bet your ass I put thought into what colour they were.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Summoning Failed Successfully

Imagine a warehouse. Imagine a bunch of cultists in dark robes with all the candles, daggers, ancient books, and chanting. Now add Danny.

Only not as the summoned being, no. As a sacrifice.

He is sitting down, tied to a chair, in the middle of the summoning circle, looking as bored and deadpan as he can possibly be. The cultists are chanting, and he frowns, listening to their chants for a moment.

"Hey, is that Latin?" He questions, but to no avail, "You know you're not actually using those words correctly, right?"

"Keep quiet, child!" One of the cultists snaps. Danny leans back in his chair and shrugs.

"I'm just saying, you ain't summoning shit with wrong grammar," he huffs, seemingly absolutely nonchalant about the whole thing. Oracle, who is watching the whole ordeal through the surveillance cameras, raises her eyebrows. Red Robin and Robin are already en route to the building the cultists chose for their extracurricular activities, but now she almost wants to watch this a bit longer.

Gothamites are pretty used to all kinds of shitshows, but this boy is from out of town. She checked him through facial recognition. Daniel Fenton, a transfer student from Amity Park, Illinois.

A few more cultists stop chanting and turn to Danny.

"Do you know Latin?" One of them asks, and the boy makes a half-nod, making a thoughtful face.

"Not fluently, but, like, it's a dead language, I felt kinda obligated to learn it. Just for the meme, you know?" He chuckles.

The cultists, judging by their confused silence, don't know. Barbara doesn't know what he's talking about, either. But she is almost curious now, so she taps Robin's and RR's comm lines:

"RR, Robin, when you arrive, don't jump into the scene," she asks.

"Understood," Tim answers immediately, but Damian, of course, demands explanations:

"Is there an obstacle?"

"Not really," Barbara humms, "The sacrifice is in the process of de-escalating the situation."

She can almost hear the questioning silence over the comm, but, thankfully, no one argues. Meanwhile, one of the cultists pipes up, voice full of doubt:

"So, you can... like, proofread our incantation?"

"Yeah, sure," Danny nods, apparently fine with being sacrificed, "Who you're trying to summon anyway?"

"Satan," that same cultist answers, and Danny laughs approvingly.

"Classic," he nods and smiles, "I'll give you this. The circle is mostly alright, so you don't need an incantation to summon the fucker, I have him on speed dial." And with that, he leans forward, screaming towards the floor: "Ey, Satan!"

Barbara must say the act was actually convincing, but he went a little overboard with it now. She reaches to tell both Robins to get in, but suddenly, a loud, booming voice reverberates through the building.

"The fuck do you want, kid?"

Cultists fall to their knees - it doesn't seem like an act of worship, more like their knees bucking. The whole circle dimly lights up in red, smoke raising from it.

"Do you see this shit, Oracle?" Red Robin questions, and she mhm's at him, not sure what else to say. If this is still an act or a trick, she must say it's a very good one. Although somehow she suspects it's not a trick. She's seen enough magic in her life to tell the difference.

"Do you want to come to Earth, be gay and do crimes?" Danny asks, almost mockingly.

"Fuck off."

The red light flickers and disappears, and Danny looks back up to cultists, grinning cheerfully.

"Welp, looks like he doesn't wanna," the kid concludes and stands up from his chair. Barbara hadn't seen when or how he got out of his bindings.

The cultists just watch him walk out of the circle in bewilderment.

"Pursue?" Robin's voice comes over the comms, and Barbara thinks for a moment.

"I get a feeling like that's a bad idea," Tim mutters over his line.

Barbara agrees.

[charlesoberonn]

One quiet day on the farm, the Little Red Hen found some wheat seeds and decided to make bread.

"Who will help me plant these seeds?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"I would." said the Horse "But I'm a workhorse, and I'm too busy moving carts around."

And so the Little Red Hen planted the seeds by herself. And they grew into bountiful golden crops.

"Who will help me harvest the wheat?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"I would." said the Dog "But I'm a guarddog, and I'm too busy keeping away burglars and predators."

And so the Little Red Hen harvested the wheat herself and made it into flour.

"Who will help me bake the flour?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"I would." said the Pig "But I'm a mother of 5 newborn piglets, and I'm too busy taking care of my young."

And so the Little Red Hen baked the bread herself into twenty beautiful loaves.

"Who will help me eat the bread?" the Little Red Hen asked.

"We would." said the Farm Animals. "But we're ashamed, for we didn't do anything to make the bread."

"Nonsense!" said the Little Red Hen. "You, Horse, helped move around the stones that built my oven. You, Dog, kept me safe while I worked. And you, Pig, are raising a new generation of Farm Animals, who will too contribute to our Farm one day. You've all helped me so much by simply being you."

"Besides," the Little Red Hen added. "I couldn't possibly eat all the loaves on my own, most of them would go to waste. Come, eat with me."

And so the Little Red Hen and the Farm Animals ate the bread together. And all saw their own, and each other's, worth.

[redhairedmuses]

PRICEGAZ WEEK 2024 - day 6

i bring forth my second fic for PriceGazWeek 2024! and my 50th fic on ao3!

the prompt i went with was 'broken' and i just had to jump on the GazAngst train!

thanks again to @narcissosbythepool for hosting this event and bringing it to life! you are one amazing human and i am so grateful for your friendship!

[an-entity-i-think]

What if Jason did the whole shtick of "wow another Robin huh? You'd think the old bats would think better of it after the last one kicked it" and then Tim is dead faced pissed and punches him in the face and goes "Don't ever talk about my dead girlfriend like that again" and Jason's just bluescreens cause wat

[webshood]

Jason and Dick look so much alike during their Robin days that they get confused who was the Robin in certain photos, they literally can't tell each other apart and the fact they have been fighting almost the same lineup of rogues is even more confusing, so their experiences end up mixed up, a lot.

Jason: No, that was me, did ya' read my reports and is confusing them with the real thing ?

Dick: I'm one hundred percent sure that was me, maybe you're the one who is misremembering, you used to read my reports all the time !

Jason: So you're just gonna act like I'm fucking lying, I have 4k memory of that day, that was literally me get outta here with ur Pinocchio looking ass

Dick: You're the one remembering things wrong, I got seventeen years of career I know that was me!

The whole time, the Riddler was running low on funds and used the same strategy twice, hoping nobody would notice, Tim knows the truth – he has read both reports–, but he thinks it's funny to see them argue.

[dxckgrxsonx]

mhm. thinking of you having eyes too big for your cunt.

meeting jason as a one off little hook up because you’re bored and want a decent fuck for once and him immediately warning you that he’s big. bigger than he thinks you can handle and you taking it as an immediate challenge. all cocky and adamant than you can take him, “im a big girl, hood. ill be able to fuck myself on your cock for fun.” and “just because others can’t take your dick doesn’t mean i can’t. you can’t be that fucking big.”

being forced to eat your own stupid words when he barely sinks the tip into your soft little pussy and you start fucking whining, gasping little breaths as he stretches you open. face scrunched up in a wince, teeth pressed together as your pussy tries to force him out.

jason’s voice knocking up a pitch in response, a knowing drawl making his mouth start watering. tone all mocking and condescending, “poor baby, can’t even take the tip before tapping out.” and “what happened to you? why’re you crying? i thought you said you could take me?”

sniffling and trying to control your tears as he keeps sinking more and more into your cunt, the stretch hurting so bad your legs tremble. jason cooing, kissing you so deeply it’s dizzying and leaving you half in love. all whilst telling you how good you’re being for him and holding you open by the backs of your knees so you can’t close your legs, all to watch your poor pussy weep and struggle to swallow him up.

it turns him on so bad to feel you clench so goddamn tightly around his cock he can hardly move. your voice wobbling and hitching when he pulls back only to push back forward and nudge himself that little bit deeper.

you cry and cry but you’re so wet it’s almost disgusting and jason decides there and then that he’s never letting you go.

[crabussy]

asian glossy starlings are severely under utilised Scary Birds. I see crows and ravens and vultures where is the love for these freaks

oohhh you want to put them in your art so bad oooohh

ID: three photos of iridescent black-green birds with bright red eyes and small black pupils, with long crow-like beaks. END ID

EXTENDED ID: three photos of glossy iridescent dark green birds, feathers almost black asides from where the light makes them viridian green. They have bright red eyes with jarring black pupils set into their head like precious stones and seem to be staring directly at the viewer, and their beaks are similar to crow beaks. The first photo shows a group of six starlings clustered on a wooden pole, presumably on a wharf. The second photo is two of the birds perched on branches, and the third photo is a close up of a starling's face from profile view. END ID

[inkskinned]

how odd, to watch the creative writing exercises of angry men in the comments of instagram. you noticed it first in the comments of conventionally attractive women - but then it started appearing everywhere else, too.

a young man talks about what lunch he's packing his wife. there is a little story under it, with 300 likes, fabricated from nothing. "this is pointless. if you treat her like this, she will take the lunch to her office and fuck her boss and divorce him and take all his money."

you scroll. a young woman talks about what lunch she's packing for her husband. it is always uglier when the subject of the video is a woman, you've noticed. "you sit on camera and you smile and you are cheating with the neighbor and then you're going to lie about being sexually assaulted by your husband and -"

you stop reading. it has 567 likes.

where did this even become a thing? people making up stories in their head, disgusting long-winded assumptions about intention and sexual disgrace. the evil twin of fanfiction.

like - it's just a lie. it's a lie that they are telling, baldfaced and assumptive. the undercurrent is of course misogyny, but the trouble is that they're so fucking certain. that's what makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise. there is this pervasive, inventive desire for them to be right. that they must be right. all women are cheating, lying, gold-digging bitches. no exceptions.

in the reverse, when women say i'd rather meet a bear in the woods than a strange man - men funnel in from the sides. they defend each other with a vibrance and capacity for empathy you wish applied to like, the other half of the population. a man could be saying i absolutely did kill her and these creatures in the comments would rise up with king shit. she made it happen. they love each other to the point of this sick strange self-gaslighting, a fervent and unhinged cognitive distortion. all men are good, wonderful people. all women are terrible, conniving, seditious, annoying.

and when did it become okay to just, like... say that kind of a thing? at one point, you find yourself typing out a witty and snappy retort. why are you spending so much time fantasizing about other people babe. but as you stare at the screen, some part of you pictures this man in public, saying these things to your face. his soapbox, high and mighty. his mirrored sunglasses and his empty life: tired and lonely.

what a sad and horrible loop he's locked in. he is terrible to women, so women don't talk to him, which he uses as an excuse to act more terribly. he blames this "failure" on women, rather than on his behavior. it cannot be that he is the problem (that the solution is to just put his ego down and accept women as equals) - he begins to invent a sculpture to replace the flesh frame of each person he sees.

it isn't just a woman posing on the beach. it is now a slut with a desperate need for each person to crave her body. it isn't just a woman yelping with surprise during something upsetting. it is a hysterical, unhelpful cretin who will probably make things worse instead of better. it isn't a person.

someone's very sweet wedding vows get moderate attention on instagram. in the comments, a man says good fucking luck you'll waste your life providing while behind your back she's absolutely fucking the best man. this will be so cringe in 2 months when she walks out on you.

you think - is that what you need to be true? is that what you need to happen, for the world to make sense to you?