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sanguineterrain · 2 months

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most normal thing in the world | jason todd

Summary: You get hit with a love spell. Naturally, the first person you seek out is Jason Todd.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings/tags: love spell (so potentially mild dubious consent but all the feelings are reciprocated), lovesick you, lovesick jason, repressed jason, LOTS of cuddling/lovie stuff, needles, magic, pining, happy ending.

the divider

Jason's having a good night.

He made himself an indulgent lasagna, and now he's got leftovers for tomorrow. He's off from patrol tonight, which, he must admit, was nice of Cass to offer.

Yeah, Jason actually feels pretty normal. Feels like any young person would. Hell, he might put on a movie he won't pay attention to, or finally adopt a cat, just to keep the normal streak going. That's what young folks do, right?

(He can think of some other things young people do, things that Jason won't allow himself to dream of.)

Knock knock.

Jason sighs. Well. The streak was good while it lasted.

He gets up, shuffling over in his sweats. He undoes the four locks and opens the door to reveal... you.

"Uh, hey," he says, cracking the door wider. "Everything okay?"

It's late. You shouldn't be out now, even if the sun hasn't gone down yet.

Jason frowns when you sway in the doorway and don't respond.

Then you flash him the sweetest smile he's ever been on the receiving end of. Wow. Sure, Jason's seen you flash your pretty teeth before. But not like this. And not at him.

"Hi, Jaylove. Hi."

"Uh." He watches you walk right past him, into his apartment. He shuts the door. "Hi... What's goin' on? You alright?"

You turn to face him. "Why wouldn't I be? After all, you're here."

"What?"

You walk to him and take his hands in yours. Jason's eyebrows rise.

"Hey...?" Jason says, looking at your joined hands. You lace your fingers together.

"My prince," you say happily. "Your eyes are beautiful. Like emeralds. And you have a beautiful mouth. Your whole face is beautiful. I'd like to paint you."

"Are you on drugs?" Jason releases your hands to hold your face. He gently pushes your eyelids up to inspect your pupils. You just smile.

"I feel high when you touch me," you say. "Just being near you is drug enough."

Yeah, Jason's now feeling a healthy amount of paranoia. It's not that you don't stop by or that you're not nice. No, you're the sweetest creature Jason's ever had the pleasure of meeting.

But wanting to touch him? Thinking he's beautiful? Calling him your prince? Either you're drugged or he's died again and found paradise.

Then again, he probably wouldn't still be in Gotham if this were paradise. You'd definitely be here, though.

"Right. Your eyes are fine." Jason lets go of your face. "You sure you didn't take anything? Drink anything? Run into anyone?"

"I drank tea," you say, gazing up at him. "And I petted a fat orange cat. Don't you want a cat?"

"I surely do. You drank tea?"

"Mmhm. It was almost as amazing as you."

Jason nods and lets go of you so he can take your hand. "Okay. We're going to the Cave."

"How come?" you ask, but you don't protest as he leads you out and into the elevator.

"Because I wanna make sure you're okay," he says, pushing the button labeled one. You're definitely not okay, but he doesn't want to worry you.

"Oh." You lean against Jason's arm. He stiffens and looks down at you. You just burrow into his side. "'Cause you love me?"

Breath catches in his throat. You can't mean that. Do you even know what you're saying? No, impossible.

You look up when he's silent for too long. "Jay-Jay? Didja hear me?"

"Yeah," he says slowly. "Yeah, I did."

You look at him, big eyes sweet. "Don't you love me too? I love you."

Jason swallows hard. "I, um, don't think you're in your right mind."

Your lip quivers. Oh, God. No, please don't cry, please don't—

"You don't love me?" you ask, tears welling.

"I do love you," Jason says quickly, panicking at your distress. "I do. Shit. Please don't cry, honey. I do love you."

You frown, cheeks wet. "You're just saying that! You hate me!"

Jason shakes his head. "No, no! Oh, never, I could never hate ya, honest! I was just... um, this is the first time we've said it to each other, y'know? I do love you. Have for a long time now."

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, soaking up your tears. You sniffle but accept this, nodding.

"Oh. I'm sure I've told you that I love you before. I love you so much, Jason. I'll never love anyone the way I love you."

God, this is fucking torture. As the elevator reaches the ground floor, Jason takes a deep breath, lets you link your fingers with his, and leads you out to the street. The universe is intent in never granting him a normal night. Noted.

There's no way you're in your right mind. Jason's figured this from the start. But that doesn't make the way you look at him, like he's anybody worth looking at, any less painful.

He pulls out his phone, shoots a quick text to Dick. ETA 10 min.

Dick responds two seconds later. What's up?

Possible Code 12.

Jason pockets his phone, running through potential reasons for what did this to you. Ivy's not wreaking havoc tonight, as far as he knows.

Meanwhile, you're in another world, humming and holding his hand. Jason's thought about this many times, holding your hand and taking you for rides, you adoring him, hugging him, kissing him. He's nothing if not a masochist.

"Okay, sweetheart," Jason says, and you immediately turn to him, like a flower showing its face to the sun. Jason is no one's sun, though. He's more like the worm under your boot.

"Hm?" you ask, stroking his arm. Jason does his best to be normal about it.

"We're gonna, um, go to the Cave. You okay on my bike?"

You glance at his bike, and there's a tinge of apprehension on your face. Jason reaches for your shoulder, stops, then forces himself to touch you. You're not going to recoil from him, not in this state. And he's not doing it for himself; he's only touching you so that you'll let him take you to the Manor and figure out what's what.

He's not a bastard for holding your shoulder, right? He's doing it just so that you'll be safe.

(It doesn't matter. Jason knows he's a bastard for being in your life at all.)

You lean into him when he touches your shoulder.

"Never been on your bike, Jay," you say.

"I know. But I swear to you that you're safe. You know I'd never let anything happen to you, right? Never."

You nod. "Yeah. You always look out for me. 'S part of why I love you so much."

Good God. Jason's going to be a ball of self-hatred for the next millenia over this.

He puts his spare helmet on you, helping you fit the chin guard underneath.

"Okay?" he asks.

You give him a thumbs-up. Jason smiles and puts his own helmet on.

"You gotta hold on real tight, okay? As tight as you can. Don't worry 'bout hurting me."

"Mmkay!"

He helps you mount the bike first, then follows. As soon as he's on, you wrap your arms around his middle and smush your helmet into his back.

How long has he dreamed about this? Taking you on late-night rides, feeling you pressed against him, squealing as he floats through traffic (he'd never speed the way he does when he's alone; Jason doesn't give a shit about his own body, but your safety matters).

"The bike is loud, so I'm not gonna hear you if you say something, but if you want me to stop, tap my shoulder three times, okay?"

"Okay, Jaylove." You squeeze him in what's clearly a hug. "Ready."

Jason's not sure he is. It's been a long time since anyone's touched him, much less someone he's head over heels for. You're so trusting, it makes him ache. Jason's just glad he's the first jerk you laid your eyes upon instead of the magic you're under pushing you into the arms of someone dangerous.

He starts up his bike. Jason's had guests on his bike before, mostly his brothers and, once, the old lady who runs the tea shop down the block.

He's never had a lovely thing like you snuggled up to him, clinging to him. Jason feels rabid. He feels like he needs to be shot and put out of his misery.

He follows all of the road rules so you won't be scared. You don't tap his shoulder or shake, so Jason figures you're fine. He's good. He's being good for you.

Jason slows as he goes down the ramp to the Cave entrance. He stops at the mouth of the Cave and dismounts first, pulling off his helmet.

"You alright in there?" he asks, offering his hand.

You wrap your arms around his neck and Jason wobbles as he recalibrates and snakes an arm around your shoulders instead and helps you off that way. He removes your helmet. You blink at the new light, then look at him, moony-eyed once again.

"I was kinda scared," you admit. "But I trust you, Jaybee. Always."

"Got you here in one piece, didn't I?" he says, winking at you.

"Uh-huh!"

Jason sees what you're going to do before you try. He sees the way you look at his lips, how you rear back, ready to leap and kiss him.

He redirects you immediately, preferring that to making you cry again. He hates it when you cry. Your soft mouth lands on his jaw instead.

Jason smiles, strained. You're annoyed at the fact that you missed, and Jason can see that you're about to try again when Dick and Tim come into view.

He's never been more thrilled to see his brothers.

"Fellow bretheren," Jason says. He knows his voice is thin. "Funny seein' you here."

You're briefly distracted and wave to be polite. But then you force Jason's left ear to your level and catch the lobe between your teeth.

Holy fuck. Jason nearly buckles at the sensation. He's never understood the ears as an erogenous zone before—now he gets it. He's ashamed of how heat pools in his gut as you nip his ear.

Jason balances you with an arm around your waist, gingerly trying to both hide his reaction and separate you. He accomplishes neither. Tim's eyebrows are at his hairline; Dick's mouth is open, no doubt ready to make a smart-ass comment.

"Well, it's nice to see you two so... affectionate," Dick says, holding back a grin.

Jason rolls his eyes. "I need you to run tests. They showed up to my door like this, all over me."

"Yeah, that is weird," Tim says.

"Thank you very much for that, Timbit," Jason grumbles. You kiss under his ear and weave your fingers through his hair. Jason manages to get your hands off, but your mouth is still firmly planted on his neck. He clears his throat. Normal!

"I dunno, Jason," Dick says. "It's not that weird. People fall in love every day."

And, okay. Jason can do teasing. He can even do borderline psychotic remarks. That's part of having siblings. He's made a few in his day. They've all stabbed or shot each other.

But now Dick is just being cruel.

Jason scowls. "Take their blood so we can fucking get this over with. They're clearly under a love spell."

His scathing tone surprises Dick, but it really startles you. You've moved away from his ear (Jason is both relieved and disappointed) and return to cradling his arm. You're alarmed by his reply.

"Jaylove?" you ask. "What happened? Are you mad?"

Jaylove? Jason sees Tim mouth. He forces himself to focus on you, be gentle for you.

"Hm, no, not mad at ya, sweetheart. Sorry 'bout that. But we need to run some medical tests on ya, 'kay? Can we do that?"

"Sure," you chirp, linking your arm with his.

Dick and Tim slip into Work Mode. Jason appreciates that. His nerves are frayed. He senses a self-destructive episode coming on after you're cured. Maybe he'll throw himself into a bar fight tonight.

"Symptoms?" Tim asks, going to the computer.

"Being in love with me," Jason says dryly.

"Besides that. Any physical symptoms like dizziness or nausea? Recklessness?"

"No, didn't notice any sickness. Not reckless; they did everything I said." Jason swallows, says the next part quietly, fearfully. "Probably jump into the Hudson if I asked."

Tim nods sharply. Dick prepares to draw your blood. Again, you're apprehensive. But Jason soothes you, pets you, and you're leaning into him like a cat in its favorite patch of sun as Dick takes your blood.

"I wanna get married," you say as red fills the second vial.

Dick shoots him a sympathetic look. Jason looks away.

"Soon, honey," Jason says, ignoring how his stomach's a pit.

He didn't think about love or relationships when he came back. Didn't care, not when he had revenge to plot.

But after all that was over, after he met you, after he found a reason to keep living, Jason started thinking about it.

And what he realized is that he's never getting married.

By choice? Yes, sure. Jason loves pretending he has a choice in anything. Sure, he chooses to abstain from marriage, like normal people out there do. But really, he avoids attachment it wouldn't be fair to anyone. He knows he's not made for that. His death made him unsalvageable. It's a miracle he's here at all. How dare he ask for more?

And inside, he chokes on a vine of hatred for everyone else who can find someone. Who's capable of loving and being loved. It even, to Jason's shame, has reared its head at you, whispered in his ear about how you're not damaged, so of course you'll find someone one day. Of course you'll leave him eventually. It would be stupid of him to hope otherwise.

"When?" you ask as Dick starts on the third vial. You don't even notice. Dick could probably drain you dry as long as Jason's in front of you. "When can we get married?"

"How 'bout next month?" Jason says without thinking. He would. He'd marry you tomorrow.

You think about this for a moment, then nod. "Yes, that would be good. I've always wanted a fall wedding."

"Yeah? I always liked the idea of marrying in the spring. All the flowers."

"No," you say. "Pollen's out. You'd be sneezing your head off."

Jason laughs, then wants to cry, because you know that he's allergic to pollen.

"Yeah, y'right," he says, voice thick. "Fall wedding's better."

"Alright, all done!" Dick says, forcefully cheerful. He removes the needle and puts a Bandaid on the inside of your elbow. You rest your head on Jason's arm. Jason tries not to boil himself in a fire of misery. You probably won't even remember this.

Dick watches you both, then tugs your hand. "Hey, you mind helping me fill out some info? For the tests."

Your mouth shrivels. You look at Jason, and he can't believe he's your North Star, magic or not.

"I don't wanna leave Jason," you say.

"He'll be right here," Dick says quickly. "Won't leave your sight for a second. But I need your help."

"Just for a minute?" you ask.

Dick nods. "One minute."

You sigh and turn to Jason. "I'll be right back."

Jason nods, tries to smile. "Sure. I'll be here."

He'll be here. Forever and ever and ever...

Wait a second. Tea. Jason jolts.

"Tim. They said they drank tea. Could be something there."

"On it," Tim says. "Dick, we need a mouth swab."

"Right." He turns to you. "Can I—"

"No," you say, and march back to Jason. "You said a minute."

Jason would laugh at the pout on your face, the way you plop yourself next to him and curl around him like he's a new toy. He would laugh. If he could find the humor.

Dick looks at him. Jason sighs.

"Honey?" You hum. "We just need one more test, yeah? Q-tip on your tongue. Not the most pleasant, but it'll be quick. Promise."

"Okay," you say immediately, hugging his arm.

Jason knows it's a spell, or maybe a lab-made chemical. But he's still awed by how quickly you acquiesce. How you show no worry when Dick approaches because Jason's right there, patting your hand.

Dick swabs your mouth. You cough three times after, most of your body on Jason.

"Interesting how they're not lustful," Dick says.

"What," Jason says.

"Okay, the ear thing was..." Dick shrugs. "But it's not mindless. It's actually the most reasonable love spell I've ever seen. Like, their desires for you don't feel manufactured, they feel—"

"Don't," Jason snaps. "Don't fuckin' say it."

Dick holds up his hands. "It was just an observation. You've seen Ivy's pollen doses. This one seems different."

"Fine. Ivy's taking a break from the orgies. Doesn't mean this is real."

Jason's not stupid enough to hope.

"It can't be Ivy," Tim says, and Jason almost startles. He forgot Tim was there, so wrapped up in you. "No reports of Ivy attacks. And the substance, whatever it was, wasn't inhaled. It was injested."

You wrap your arms around Jason's neck and smush your face against his. You're warm and smell good. Jason feels feral.

He holds you with a hand on your back, mind turning.

"Sweetheart," he says. You hum. "You said you drank tea after work. Where exactly did you go?"

"Dunno," you say, spacey. "Went into a tea shop that's never been there before. And an old lady invited me in. She said I looked so sad. And I was, Jaybee! How did she know?"

"Hm. Well, she gave me a tea sample, said it would make all my problems disappear. Then I petted her cat named Darcy. Like that book you like!"

"I don't know, honey," Jason says quietly, even though he has a suspicion. He's never letting you walk home alone again.

Tea shop. That's what he gets for trying to be a good Samaritan. How dare she drug you?

God, Jason just wants to hug you tight and kiss your face. It's awful of him to think of you as cute in your state, he knows.

"Track their routes," Jason says. "They take two different ones home. One crosses Bank Street, the other goes over the bridge."

"I'd call you a stalker but I really have no right," Tim says, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"No shit," Jason mumbles, letting you play with his fingers.

"Jason," Dick says quietly. He glances at you, then at his brother. "If it's too much, we can sedate them."

"No. We don't know how it'll react to the tea. It's not Ivy's brew."

Dick frowns. He knows Jason's right. Jason knows he's right.

"Okay, I got something. Magic signatures from a building on Tenth Street," Tim says. "And I think I'm onto an antidote."

"I'll check it out," Dick says, going to suit up. He looks at Jason. "Are you-?"

Jason nods. "I'm fine. Go."

So Dick does. Tim is able to make an antidote within the hour. He gives it to Jason who injects it into your neck. He feels guilty even though this is what’ll cure you. You wince at the pinch but you don't so much as whimper, endlessly trusting.

"They'll probably crash soon," Tim says, out of your earshot. "I don't know if you should risk the bike."

Jason sighs. Tim's right, and it makes him all the more agitated that his brothers have been helpful and even kind of nice during the whole thing.

You're going to crash soon. Jason has no choice but to bring you up to the Manor.

"Come on, sweetheart," he says, taking your hand and standing.

"Where're we goin'?" you ask, yawning.

"Goin’ t’bed, honey. Aren't ya tired?"

"Hmm. Mmhmm."

"Yeah, thought so."

Jason leads you up the stairs and out of the Cave. He helps keep you steady as you trip up the stairs. He's tempted to just carry you, but he feels like that might be overkill.

Once at the top of the stairs, Jason stops. Swallows.

He hasn't been up here in a while. He slept in his room once after he returned, after a nasty encounter with Scarecrow.

"Wanna sleep in your bed, Jay," you mumble, cheek against his arm.

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Okay, love."

You go to his room. It's clean, as usual—Alfred never let it get dusty. Jason had hoped that if you ever saw his room it would be in much different circumstances. Normal circumstances.

But, well. Here you are.

"Hmm, 's nice," you say as Jason pulls back the bedspread and helps you out of your shoes. You start to take off your pants and he panics.

"Uh! Uh, baby, maybe keep the pants on. You might get cold."

You frown in confusion. "Doesn't feel cold."

"Yeah, but, whew, Alfred blasts the AC! Jus' keep 'em on."

Jason cannot handle seeing you in your underwear. He draws the line there.

"'Kay," you say, and flop onto the sheets. You wiggle around, getting comfortable.

Jason sits in the fat armchair in the corner of the room. Immediately, you sit up.

"Why're you over there?" you ask, eyes wide.

Oh, boy.

"Oh. I was, um, gonna read for a bit. I'll come in in a while."

Your lip trembles. No—

"Don't leave me, Jaybee. Don't leave! Stay with me. I love you!"

Jason rubs his forehead. "Honey—"

"You hate me! You do! I annoy you." Tears gather in your eyes.

Jason hurries to the edge of his bed, climbing in in his jeans and socked feet.

"No, no, love, we covered this. I don't hate ya, hm? Where'd ya get a silly thing like that?"

You quiet as he scoots in beside you. Then you throw most of your limbs over him. Jason stiffens.

"Just got scared," you say, and kiss his chest. "Promise you won't leave?"

Jason breathes in. Breathes out.

"Yeah. I promise."

And he stays.

You wake up with a faint headache and a dry throat. Sunlight peeks through the blinds. You feel warm and safe and well-rested, despite the slight pains.

You stretch, expecting air. Instead, you touch skin. You open your eyes.

Oh. You're in a bedroom.

No, scratch that. You see framed pictures of the Bats, books on shelves.

You're in Jason Todd's childhood bedroom. With the aforementioned tucked under your arm and leg.

You jerk away so hard, you land on the carpeted floor below.

Jason's up instantly, head poking over the bed. His eyes widen.

"Shit! Y'alright? C'mere."

He gets up and practically scoops you into a standing position. Your brain short-circuits: big strong man strong big good nice. Then you recover.

"Um," you say. "Uh. Hmm. Hi."

Jason smiles tightly. "Hey."

"What... how-?"

"Right. How much do you remember?"

You try to think. You remember walking home, drinking tea, an affectionate orange cat. You remember hands on your face and your stomach swooping on a motorcycle and a gentle voice. So gentle.

"You were magicked," Jason says quickly. "It was a, uh, tea shop. Dick's checking it out. You, um, came to me and I took you here and you got an antidote and you didn't want me to, um, leave. So, yeah. Sorry."

You tilt your head. "Why are you apologizing, Jason?"

He sighs. "Just 'cause."

You have no idea what that means. But you feel like Jason's telling you a very condensed version of what happened.

"What was the magic?" you ask.

He winces. "Love spell. You thought you were... in love with me."

Jason says it like he's the one who charmed you. Like he's ashamed of it.

"Oh," you say. Well, you certainly didn't need a spell for that to happen.

"Yeah." Jason's staring at your and his shoes by the door. "But everything's fine now. I can take you home. Dick and Tim'll take care of the tea shop witch."

He doesn't wait for a response, darting to the door and slipping into his shoes. You rush forward and close the door as Jason opens it. He looks at you in confusion.

"Jason," you say softly. "What happened?"

"Whaddya mean? I told you."

"Jason. I've known you for three years. You think I don't know when you're not telling me something?"

He looks at his feet. One of his socks has a hole in the toe.

"There's nothin' to tell," he mumbles. "Magic stuff. Happens all the time. Business as usual."

You frown. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Jay. I admittedly don't remember a lot."

Jason's expression is relief but there's a heaviness to his shoulders. "Well, 's for the best, really. Magic messes with your head."

"Did I make you uncomfortable, Jason? Not letting you leave and—God, I can't imagine how I was on the spell."

He shakes his head fervently. "No! No, no, my God, no. You didn't—you could never—I mean, I wasn't... fuck. No. You didn't make me uncomfortable."

"If you're sure," you say.

He nods. "Hundred percent."

Jason doesn't sound like he's lying. You're pretty good at detecting it, especially when it comes to his feelings.

So why is he acting weird?

Well, duh. A love spell. You probably freaked him out, especially since you really do love him.

"I hope we can still be friends," you offer.

Jason turns to the door.

"Yeah," he says quietly. "'Course we're still friends."

It shouldn't make you ache. Jason's perfectly in the right to not reciprocate how you feel. How can he reciprocate something he doesn’t even know exists?

"You, uh..." Jason scratches the back of his neck. He faces you once more. "You said last night that you were sad. When you were coming home. I just wanted to say, y'know... you can talk to me. 'Bout anything."

This will make all of your problems disappear, she had said. It'd tasted like kombucha—you hadn't had a lot of faith.

Jason begins to open the door. You slide in front of him and slam the door shut with your back. He steps back in surprise.

"Wh—"

"I have to tell you something!" you blurt.

Jason stills. "Okay."

"I adopted you a cat," you say.

He squints. "What?"

"Well, she's still at the shelter but I put her on reserve. Of a sort. I have a friend who works there. She's black and white and likes to cuddle and has two different colored eyes but she can't see very well. Her name is... whatever you want to name her. Because she's yours. And I think you'll love her."

He nods slowly. "I, uh, thanks. Thank you. I was thinking about adopting a—"

"I was sad last night because I kept thinking about how you're gonna love this cat I got you but you'll never love me, and how that's the fucking worst feeling in the world."

You've stunned him silent. Shit.

Seconds tick by. A minute. Two minutes.

"Okay," you say, wanting to jump out of Jason's two-story window. "I'm gonna go drop off the face of the Earth now. Bye."

You open the door. Jason closes it by caging you against it.

And then he kisses you.

Jason pours everything into the kiss. He's not a perfect kisser but it's good. It's magic. He holds your face completely, shuts out the entire world. Kisses the breath out of you.

Yes, you could go on. It's fantastic. It's fireworks. It's sunbeams.

And actually, it feels like the most normal thing in the world, kissing Jason Todd.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #jason todd x gn reader #jason todd x yn #red hood x yn #dc imagine

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yuurivoice · 4 months

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A few folks seem very intrigued by the somewhat vague pre-BitterSweet ideas I had for Seth I was discussing on stream last night (and a few times before that) so I'll share in my own words here as well!

Seth's embryonic stage was straightforward.

Create a sexy rival for Alphonse who shares a criminal history with him, and wants to use Boo as a means to fuck with Al. Biker bad boy who fucks. That was all there was in the beginning.

From there I considered doing the Good End, Bad End approach that would expand on a concept I tried out with early Alphonse, where Boo and him hooking up on their first night was a non-canon bad end. This would have been more of a Bad Path rather than just an end, a few audios where shit just gets real wild.

I don't remember a ton of specifics now, but long story short after meeting (not the same as episode 1 of BS) Seth would be a lingering menace stirring shit and taunting Al/Boo before ultimately kidnapping Boo and luring Alphonse to a remote location, something similar to a trainyard or warehouse, like the settings seen in BS3. The climax involved a gun, and an ambiguous ending where we're not sure who got got in the end.

Then, after I sat with it for a while and started hammering out what I wanted his introduction to look like, Seth was not becoming that character. I held on, thinking maybe it'll take shape, and then the "THEY WERE LOVERS!?" bit hit me and it really started to get some movement...and nowhere near the direction of Seth really being a menace.

Also, I find the whole thing so overplayed and cliche in the ASMR roleplay niche that I did not think it would be wise in the long run to introduce even the optional Bad End thing because a lot of people cannot grasp the concept of "this is just a spicy branching alternate story for fun".

And honestly, I don't find it all that fun. A by the numbers kidnapping plot for the folks who enjoy that sort of thing would not have been the level of work I'd go on to do, nor would it have created the long lasting emotional attachment to Seth we have today.

Also, knowing your audience fucking matters. That era of the my audience had people freaking out at the idea that Alphonse might leave Boo. They were not prepared for that kind of content whether it was clearly labeled non-canon or not.

I'm pretty happy with where we ended up, and I am much more equipped to tell a story involving a fucked up asshole causing problems on purpose now than I was all those years ago.

But I hear the folks who want various boys behaving badly, and perhaps one day Seth will have a bad dream about what could have been. 🙏

#yuurivoice

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cremedensada · 4 months

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something in my drafts that i actually got the energy and motivation to finish. it's not really my best work but i *did* try so!! also 600+ of yall?? (⁠(⁠(⁠;⁠ꏿ⁠_⁠ꏿ⁠;⁠)⁠)⁠)

Yandere Ocean Spirit who the local sailors and fishermen tell tales of. Some say he takes the form of a charming young man talking with the grandmothers, letting himself be entertained by their tales of when they were younger.

Some say she takes the form of a beautiful young lady walking down the shore as the sun sets down the horizon, colorful gold and orange painting the sky with awe - a vision of beauty and elegance.

Some say they take the form of an individual whose beauty goes beyond genders and labels, taking a dip in the ocean - glowing moonlight behind them. Locals who saw a glimpse of them would often murmur about their long cascading hair as dark as the ocean's waves in midnight; no one truly knows where the tips of their hair ends and the ocean begins.

Yandere Ocean Spirit who, despite his contentment with life at the seaside, finds himself curious with you - a new face, a visitor, in his home.

You were staying at the seaside for the summer, spending time with your relatives per your parents' decisions. You're not all too happy with being plucked out of your comfort zone, but you suppose you might as well make it work - a chance to destress before you'll have to come back and face the reality of life's hustle and bustle, like the unforgiving ocean waves crashing against the shore, hah.

The ocean waves are inviting today - not too huge and overwhelming, but neither too placid and calm. You spend a huge chunk of your afternoon watching the waves - something so routinely was so pleasing to you.

The beautiful stranger approaches you in one of your ocean-watching ventures, a sweet smile adorning her beautiful face - asking permission to accompany you. And who are you to deny her? Not when she looks at you looking like the most breathtaking woman you've ever met in your life and you are just a human being with a huge appreciation for beauty.

"I like the ocean," she says, after a moment of silence, eyes trained on the waves, "everything in life can change - things come and go, but you can always count the ocean to be there."

You chuckle. "Even the ocean can be unforgiving, you know. Especially during storms."

"Ah," she laughs, "that, I'll have to agree... we're all victims to the whims of the weather."

You smile in agreement, and the silence that follows is pleasant and welcome - like the ocean breeze gently blowing against your skin.

The next few days you busy yourself with familiarizing around town. While running an errand for your aunt, you come across a huddle of fishermen - gazes grim.

"Looks like it's about to rain," one of them says, "can't go fishing at this weather."

You hear another fisherman let out a grunt, just as you near their huddle.

"We can't always hope for a fair weather all the time. The ocean spirit can only do so much for us common folk."

An ocean spirit? You halt in your steps unconsciously, curiosity urging you to listen more. One of the men seems to notice, and lets out a hearty laugh.

You feel yourself flush in embarrassment at being caught listening.

"Curious, eh?" he says as the others turn to you as well, wearing matching amused smiles - at the very least, they didn't look like they were mocking you. "Never heard of an ocean spirit before?"

"Spirits aren't... exactly common in the city," you find yourself responding.

They nod in understanding. "Too urbanized," one of them says - a man sporting a huge scar underneath his left cheek, "they're more powerful and stronger when they're in their natural habitats."

It's your first time hearing of the existence of such spirits. "What does the spirit look like?"

They share amused glances, like you've just asked them of an inside joke you didn't know they had. "Well it depends on how the spirit wants to look like. But you've already met her, if that's what you're asking."

Their words echo in your mind until the next day as you watch the waves once more. It crashes against the sand and washes towards your feet - you watch it retreat.

A smell of the ocean breeze creeps up on you, and you feel a presence beside you.

"Mind if I join?"

His voice is deeper this time, different from her softer lilt - the one that reminds of you of early morning rays, the calm rippling of the ocean accompanied by the glittering sunlight. His voice feels like the warm ocean water soaking you to your thighs, gently swayed by the waves moving to and fro.

You turn to meet his gaze.

"You never told me you were an ocean spirit."

Unfazed, he smiles. "You never asked... plus, I didn't intend to hide it in the first place."

You entertain him with your company - his eyes gazing at you with keen interest as you share about your life in the city.

"—and what brings you to this peaceful little town?"

"Just... vacation," you shrugged, "I'm heading back to the city after a few weeks."

He frowns, but quickly covers it up with a serene smile. "That's a shame. Can't you stay a little bit longer?"

"I'm not meant for the seaside life," you respond; and it's true. You were not born with the ocean breeze to greet you in the morning, and the sound of birds singing the days away, nor the sound of waves lapping against the shore. You were born with the hustle and bustle, the sound of heavy traffic and hurrying men and women getting to one designation to another, and the smell of smoke permeating in the air.

It can be said, yes, that you can get used to a simplistic life at the beach but could you really? Not when your subconscious mind tells you that there's more to do at home, things to finish, projects to oversee, friends to keep up with, a life that you cannot afford to upend because your comfort has already rooted in the city, and it would be foolish to uproot it in an environment that it has to get used to after it has already matured.

"Oh."

He quietens after that. The waves are audibly more harsher as they crash against the shore, thrashing and lashing even beneath clear blue skies. The ocean spirit is not mad, but it rolls off of him in the waves.

And days turn to weeks — the waves only get harsher. Fishermen stand by the shore, scowling and frowning as the rough waters force them not to travel the nasty waves. What good is their livelihood if they do not live to return anyway?

The ocean spirit is nowhere to be seen, and there's no way to bargain or to ask what's wrong — like he has just disappeared down the depths.

The day of your departure comes, bags packed and a sense of anticipation to be back home thrums in your veins. As the car rumbles to life, thunder crackles in the air and lightning strikes — a flash flood comes surging towards the shore.

Cries of surprise and fear erupted from the villagers as the waves slammed against them, like claws tightening their hold on their prey. Was this the work of their ocean spirit? The gentle soul who would listen to the grandmothers' tales of their young love and misadventures like a child listen's to a fisherman's tale of braving the storms.

Or was the ocean spirit holding themselves back all along, now only deciding to let go of their restraints and let the humans feel the full blow of the ocean without their careful watch. Humans, who have since been uses to their less than concerning storms, unfit to respond to such a devastating occurrence — too panicked and fearful to flee away to higher ground.

You watch as the waves continue to drown more and more people, and a lone figure standing on an elevated rock formation. Has it been there all along?

Your feet moved before your mind can catch up to it, wading through the waters to reach the figure. They notice your presence and, serenely, smiles at you.

"Hello," they greet, like the storm all over them is not happening at all, "wanna watch the ocean with me?"

"You need to stop," you insist instead, ignoring their invitation. "The villagers are drowning."

They merely watch, and hum. "That's a shame, isn't it?" they murmur. How can they be so cruel? No — have they been this heartless all along? What of the person who the people sing praises of? "Perhaps they should start to learn to get used to it."

You hear the wail of a mother. You can only imagine what made her cry with such devastation.

"After you've given them protection?"

"Aren't we all victims to the whims of the weather?" They hum, "then perhaps, we're all also just victims to the whims of the ocean."

"And what would change the ocean's whim right now?"

As though waiting for that inevitable question to be asked, they smiled. "For you to stay."

Another harsh wave ravages the village, and they smiles at you with a calm smile — calm as the waves of the ocean should be — as more cries and sobs, pleas for help fills your ears.

"Well? Will you stay, or will you let everyone drown?"

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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historicity-was-already-taken · 5 months

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pixeljade: #it IS very much a complex issue and I feel like saying that has been pissing off a lot of folks on both sides #one fact i would add to the table is that the current actions against palestine DO constitute a genocide by definition #its a word i hear pro-Israel people get very upset by because they think it is inherently comparing this to the holocaust #but its not. some people DO and thats its own discussion. but calling it a “genocide” is simply accurate and undeniable

Speaking as someone who was that pro-Israel person in her teens and very early 20s, the reactions you're describing are 800% cognitive dissonance freak outs. Most of these people, like me, received either directly or indirectly from their Elders in the Jewish community a very trauma-induced and deeply emotional information about the history of this situation, which boils down to: "They tried to kill us all once and they didn't now we finally have returned to the Promised Land, the only place we have to shield ourselves against It Happening Again. Israel's detractors hate that Jews can defend themselves now, and if any of them, including the Palestinians, were to have their way, they'd see us all dead. We must defend ourselves at all costs, and not let anyone ever put us in existential danger as a people ever again."

And then to have some rando 19 year old who knows jack shit about your or your community or your community's trauma to get up in your face and start screaming at you about genocide? It's only going to trigger that intergenerational trauma, and cause the party being screamed at to dig deeper into their defensive, cognitive-dissonance fueled response. Which, if we were to boil that response down to a thought process, looks like "This person hates me and all Jews. They think we're a hive mind who don't deserve to live. Thank G-d for Israel."

What's complex, is that not everything in that trauma response is wrong, and not everything the dumbass 19 yo who has no interest in unpacking their own learned anti-Semitism was wrong.

Israel's actions towards Palestinian Arabs since 1948 does fit several definitions of genocide and/or ethnic cleansing. And many of the Westerners who scream about it the loudest are fairly openly anti-Semitic.

Now, as someone with big Holocaust intergenerational trauma in her family, I am sympathetic to the Jewish kid in this scenario. But cognitive dissonance is just that: the domain of a child. Adults understand that cognitive dissonance is a little voice in our head telling us "Hey comrade our discomfort with this is a little much. Maybe this is a learning opportunity?"

I mean, that's what I did. But it's difficult. Its uncomfortable, and that scares people. It's much easier to believe that "They call it the Naqba because they hate us and think our survival and access to national self-determination is a disaster,"* than it is to understand that "They call it the Naqba because it was the near total dispossession and ethnic cleansing of Palestinian Arab populations from their generational homes and properties."

And again, everything I'm saying here is a result of my journey from a hardcore Zionist-in-the-contemporary-sense child (though always left in terms of domestic US Politics), to a grown Holocaust historian who understands that Israel is no better and no worse than all the other nation states (for new readers, I understand the nation-state as a political entity, the logical end point of which is genocide and/or ethnic cleansing), and openly criticizes it on those grounds.

*A rabbi in a youth group I belonged to told me this almost verbatim when I was 15. And when you're 15 and somebody tells you they love you you're gonna believe them.

#this post is clunky but i have a fever so w/e #i have great love and compassion for my community as an american jewish woman #so much of how american jewry remembers the history of israel is shaped by our collective trauma #sometimes in ways that we ourselves don't understand #i'm not here to shit on them #but i am here to compassionately call them in #and the only groups who i don't expect that compassion from #are actual palestinians

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radioisntdead · 5 months

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Adore

Alastor x reader

Warnings:

This is short, not my best work I WILL REDEEM MYSELF. Alastor is implied to break in at the end.

Good evening folks!

APOLOGIES FOR THIS BEING DELAYED, I accidentally deleted the whole thing and then I just laid on Barnaby out of defeat and slept.

ANYWAYS HERE'S WEDNESDAY'S ANGST, or Wednesday's poor excuse for angst, the original was better.

I'll be posting another angst fic later today, hopefully, it's either gonna be with Lute or another Alastor one

Song

A-one, two, three, four

You completely and utterly adored Alastor, how could you not?

He was quite charming! Sure he was a cannibalistic murderer but that for some reason wasn't a deal breaker for you.

A side effect from being in hell probably or possibly because you were just as screwed up as he was just in a different format!

Everything you do, it sends me

You had met him while working at Rosie's emporium, Rosie had asked you to make some tea while she taught Alastor the newest slang she had gathered.

Higher than the moon with every twinkle in your eye

Turns out you both had so much in common!

Both of you had gained deer attributes after your fall to eternal damnation, had a strong distaste for the lustful cravings of the flesh, thought cannibalism was neat, Rosie was a dear friend, and held a fondness and strong preference for the years you were alive.

You strike a match that lights my heart on fire

Rosie being the matchmaker she was decided to nudge the two of you together, after all she saw how well you and Alastor matched together, and it worked! Of course it did.

When you're near, I hide my blushing face

You and Alastor fit together perfectly, like pillows and blankets, like shoes and laces.

And trip on my shoelaces

He'd take you dancing, hand gently placed on your waist when you would dance more classically, or you'd have arms and legs frailing around like a octopus when you'd give more energetic dances a try.

Grace just isn't my forté

The two of you enjoyed cooking together in the kitchen, Jambalaya, curries, biscuits and gravy, pasta, gumbo, baked breads and whatever else you could think of, you made together.

But it brings me to my knees when you say

You'd help Alastor out with his radio broadcast, by either proofreading his scripts or finding an unfortunate sinner to make an appearance with their screams.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

You didn't know where things went wrong, everything was going well!

I fall into a pile on the floor, deer love is hard to ignore

At least you thought so, the last day you spent with Alastor the two of you had made a lovely dinner together, you had set the table with fresh flowers, a candle or two.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

After dinner the two of you danced to some jazzy song from his era, and he twirled you around.

We're as different as can be

His hand holding yours.

I've noticed you're remarkably murdery and I'm slightly less murdery

His red eyes staring adoringly into yours.

We balance out each other nicely

You gave him a kiss on the cheek before you went to sleep that night.

You wear fancy shoes in the snow

You had awoken in the morning and Alastor wasn't there.

You assumed he had stepped out and he'd be back soon.

In mid-July, I still feel cold

But as the clock continued to tick and the red skies turned into a deeper red you were worried but you knew he could handle himself maybe he just got caught up in something? Perhaps with that TV guy he was 'friends' with?

We're opposites in every way

Hours turned into days and days into weeks,

No one had heard from nor had they seen Alastor.

You looked everywhere for him, asking around, desperately trying to find out where he went.

but I can't resist it when you say

Vox apparently tried to get him to join his little V themed posse and Alastor rejected him, rather harshly and also broke his little TV antenna while he was at it.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Rosie hadn't heard from him either, and obviously you wouldn't be asking around if you knew where he was.

I fall into a pile on the floor

Weeks turned into months and before you knew it those months became years.

He was just gone, leaving only traces of his existence.

Puppy love is hard to ignore, when every little thing you do, I do adore

For the first few years you would frequently pop into his radio tower, hoping that maybe, just maybe he would be there for some reason, and when he undoubtedly wasn't, you cleaned the place up, keeping it in tip top shape.

Finding words, I mutter

Once it hit the five year mark you stopped popping in, allowing dust and whatever else to consume the radio tower untill further notice.

Tongue-tied, twisted

You stopped hoping that Alastor would just waltz on into your shared home, with that yellowed grin of his and static following.

Hoove in mouth, I start to stutter, Ha, ha, Heaven help me

You stopped looking for Alastor.

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

Seven years, he was gone for seven years,

He was back and he didn't have the decency to even pay you a visit? You had to hear about his return from him publicly beefing with Vox.

I fall into a pile on the floor, Puppy love is hard to ignore

If Alastor wasn't going to come find you then you wouldn't go out of your way to find him either, even if that hazbin hotel where he was residing was only a 30 minute walk away.

When every little thing you do, I do adore

Alastor didn't intentionally ghost you, his absence was only supposed to be for a short while.

Unfortunately he was foolish enough to make a deal that had kept him away from you for seven long years, his dear friend Rosie had been kind enough to fill him in on your activities since his disappearance but not before scolding him harshly for not even having the decency to send a postcard.

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

He had been back for a time now, how rude of him to not pay his dearest a visit! After all you were looking for him until recent years right?

Every little thing, ba-ba-ba-ba

Alastor was someone you completely and utterly adored once.

And unfortunately he still adored you to some degree considering he was standing in front of you in the doorway of the house you had once shared, he was as smiley as ever, his grin grew larger as he saw your confused expression.

"Good evening my darl-" he was interrupted by you slamming the door in his face.

Every little thing you do, I do adore

It seems you weren't as excited to see him as he expected, oh well! Good thing for him that you didn't bother to change the locks.

Good evening folks my apologies, this is more comedic then angsty, hope you enjoyed though I will redeem myself.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you

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netherworldpost · 5 months

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The Cold Hearted Amateur Economist Studying the Annual Budget ($113.4 million proposed 2023) for the Chicago Public Library to state "This Is a Stupidly Great Deal."

I am not a professional economist.

To be clear, and to start with, I do not run economic data for real world scenarios for clients or governments or any institutions.

I do run fantasy economic models for fantasy worlds (elves, dwarves, dragons, etc.) for private clients (nerds with more cash than time).

But to be clear I am not a real world economist. So there will be variables I don't know/care about.

The Chicago (hi, I live in Chicago) public library proposed budget

for 2023 is

$113,400,000

(source)

Which is a lot of money, objectively speaking, when you look at it as an annual price tag of "I need $113,400,000. For, um, this year. Next year it'll be more."

In addition to being an amateur economist, as I call myself, because I deal exclusively in fantasy-world economics exclusively

I was a professional graphic designer for many years and have dealt with charts, graphs, information displays, etc.

for a really long time

From the above source, 24.3% (about $27,556,200) is provided by grants, leaving 75.7% (about $85,843,800) to raise.

Still a big chunk of cash.

Damn near $86 million bucks.

That would buy so many zines.

Is it worth it?! LET'S GO BACK TO "I WAS A FORMER GRAPHIC DESIGNER" and dealt with charts and things, a lot, to raise cash for weird projects, a lot.

$85,843,800 (above figure to raise) divided by 365 (sorry leap year, we're being un-generous) is $235,188.49 a day.

Nearly. A quarter. Million dollars. A day.

Wow.

But wait...

...there is more than one person living in Chicago.

Which means that it is NOT a daily bill to ONE person for $235,188.49. It is a daily bill for for 1/2,665,039 PEOPLE, given the city's population.

(source)

To be fair, not everyone pays taxes, for a variety of reasons.

Since I'm not a professional economist, let's be brutally unfair and guess only 1/3 of the city pays taxes. It's far more than that, but, yknow...

...amateur economist privilege.

2,665,039 x 0.33 = 879,462.87... we'll... just round... up... this isn't SAW.

FUN FACT, though! You can borrow SAW from the Chicago Public Library for $0.00!

Resuming the point!

Daily bill of $235,188.49 sent to a collective of 879,463 people whom paying taxes to fund the library using the above math.

(Folks astute in math are going to immediately get my end point that this is cheap)

$235,188.49 (daily budget) divided by 879,463 (people)

is...

$0.26742283643 or rounded up

$0.27 per day.

The Chicago Public Library costs less than $0.30 per day per tax payer to cover the entire city.

Less. Than $0.30. Per day. Per tax payer.

...wow.

You can do similar math by checking your local library's budget and comparing it to your local population and being as ungenerous, or more specific if you wish to get a closer-to-accurate number, when comparing tax payers.

If you want to say "1 out of every 3 people paying taxes is too high" (it's not, but let's just say it is for the sake of furthering my point of "the library is an intensely great deal) and instead... say...

1 out of every 5 people pay taxes

because you want to be a contrarian for whatever personal reasons

1/5 = 20%, 20% of 2,665,039 people is 533,008 (rounded up, per above SAW rules)

$235,188.49 (daily budget) divided by 533,008 (people in this ultra contrarian numbers formula) is $0.44124757977, or, $0.44 per day per tax payer.

Using 1/3 as a tax payer base is extremely low. It's easier math. I chose it to make a point.

Pushing it further to 1/5 as a tax payer base raises the daily cost by ($0.44-0.27) $0.17.

Use your local library. Your literal pocket change pays for it.

This is a "I love the library" post sponsored by the library research I am doing for a private client and work that'll be used for future Netherworld Post releases.

#library #library postings #local library #library funding #i love the library #public library #public libraries

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milkteabinniechan · 1 month

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Pink Carnations-A Bridgerton Story✧

MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST

pairing: Felix Lee x fem! reader x Bang Chan

summary: Dearest, Gentle Reader, it seems our humble nobleman has challenged another man to a duel. This author wonders if the mystery man from the party and this duel opponent are one in the same. Poor Felix, newlywed bliss seems to be only for a lucky few...

warnings: angst, heavy kissing, sword fighting, mentions of blood

a/n: we're nearing the end, folks! this story has been so special to me and I truly hope you all have enjoyed reading it ♡

CHAPTER SIX

You awake the next day with the events of the ball still swarming around your head. You could still see Felix's eyes, his hurt expression. You could still smell Chan's skin as he spoke to you. But you were still here. You were still Felix's wife. Your eyes fluttered open to the sight of a single pink carnation on the pillow beside you.

You blinked a few times, half expecting the flower to disappear. But there it lay, the morning sun bathing its petals sweetly. You reached your hand out and smelled the flower deeply. You wondered if Chan had come into your room to leave it. Perhaps he has climbed through your window and placed it on your pillow while you slept. Had he finally brought you your flowers?

When you made your way downstairs, you clutched the flower tightly in your hand, nearly crushing it. You turned towards the dining room to find the room empty. The table was adored with a wide array of food but Felix was nowhere to be found. You knew there was one place he went when he didn't want anyone to find him.

You had seen him from your bedroom window a few nights out in the courtyard. Sometimes even during the day. You would watch as his staff called for him, searching the grounds. But you would see him slip beneath a dense brush of trees and disappear. You quickly made your way to his hiding spot. Unfortunately, the branches proved a formidable foe as they clung to your dress, capturing you there.

“Ah!” You yelped. Your hands were trying desperately to pull at the branches and limbs of the tree.

“You’re like a rabbit caught in a thicket.” A deep voice came from behind you.

Felix walked up, half smirking, and pulled your dress from the branches. You lost your footing and fell back into his arms. Your hands lay flat against his chest. Felix instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you. He looked down at your hands and smiled softly.

“You received my gift?”

You tilted your head in confusion before looking down at the pink carnation still in your hand, now pressed between the two of you.

“You…” you struggled to speak, trying desperately to gather your thoughts, “This is from you?”

Felix looked down at you, his soft smile now faltering slightly. “You seem surprised? I thought you loved pink carnations…” his voice trailed off as he looked away from you.

The tips of his ears turned a light shade of red as he avoided your gaze. You felt an unmistakable warmth fill your chest. You lifted your hand to Felix's chin and turned his face towards yours. You looked longingly into his eyes. The two of you were still strangers but somehow a bond was beginning to form. A bond that grew like the flowers in the once baren courtyard. You tilted your head up to meet his lips. Felix’s eyes grew large as he watched you move towards him. He lowered his face to yours, meeting you halfway until your lips pressed into one another's ever so slowly.

The kiss was cautious, but only at first. Felix moved his body into yours with a delicate pace. He was careful and calculated as his lips brushed opposite yours. Your hand moved from his chin to the back of his neck, bringing him closer and deepening the kiss. Your mouth parted slightly as your tongue made its way inside his mouth. Felix groaned softly, his hands still around your waist. The taste of your tongue was more erotic and more delicious than he could have imagined. When the two of you finally broke the kiss, the string of saliva still hung between both of your mouths, connecting you even then.

Felix led you out of the brush and forest and back into the open courtyard. You laughed softly as he helped you step over fallen branches and raised roots. His hand was clasped with yours, tightly and possessively.

Chan stood in the courtyard. He knew it was a risk to come to Felix’s manor like this, but he had to take a risk if he was going to be with you. As you emerged from the brush, Chan noticed the disheveled look of your clothes and the way Felix held your hand. He felt his blood begin to boil. He clenched his fists and tightened his jaw as he approached the two of you. Felix was so enamored with you, he didn't take notice of Chan until he was face to face with him. Chan didn't think. All he could do was act. He pulled back his fist and landed a hard blow to Felix's jaw. Felix stumbled back slightly, his fingers checking his lip for blood before locking eyes with Chan. He raised his fist to Chan to return the blow but before his fist could make contact you stood between the two of them.

“Enough! Stop this! You're acting like children!”

Felix and Chan both looked at you and then each other. Both men huffed and attempted to catch their breath.

“You're right. Let's settle this like men.” Felix panted, his eyes like daggers.

Chan raised an eyebrow. He knew what Felix had meant. He knew where this was headed. What Felix didn't know is that Chan had been sword training for years.

“Duel.” Felix spat out.

“Duel.” Chan responded, a confident smile already beginning to build.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the deserted courtyard. The air was thick with tension as the two men faced each other, each gripping a polished sword. On one side stood Chan, his steely brown eyes fixed on his opponent. His dark hair fluttered slightly in the breeze, and his stance was that of a seasoned warrior, balanced and ready. He had trained while he was away with his Uncle. All the planning to win you back has come down to this.

Opposite him was Felix, a man known for his cunning and agility. His eyes, sharp and calculating, never wavered from Chan. Felix's slender frame belied his strength, and he held his sword with a confidence born from countless battles.

They circled each other slowly, the silence between them broken only by the soft crunch of gravel beneath their boots. Suddenly, with a swift motion, Felix lunged forward, his sword aiming for Chan’s heart. Chan parried the blow with ease, their blades clashing with a metallic ring that echoed through the courtyard.

"You're predictable, Sir Felix," Chan said, his voice calm and steady. "Is this the best you can do?"

Felix smirked, stepping back to reassess. "You haven't seen anything yet."

With a burst of speed, Felix attacked again, his movements a blur. Chan met each strike with precision, their swords a whirlwind of flashing steel. The duel was a dance of death, each man testing the other's limits, searching for a moment of weakness.

As the battle raged on, both men showed signs of fatigue. Sweat dripped from their brows, and their breathing grew heavier. Felix feigned a stumble, drawing Chan in for a final, desperate strike. But Chan was not fooled. He sidestepped and brought his sword down in a sweeping arc.

Felix’s eyes widened in shock as the blade cut through the air, meeting its mark. He staggered, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers. Chan stepped back, his sword still at the ready, watching as his opponent sank to his knees.

"You fought well," Chan said, his voice tinged with respect. "But it ends here."

Felix looked up, his expression a mix of pain and defiance. "This isn't over, Chan. As long as I breathe, this isn't over."

Your eyes widened at Felix's words. Your heartbeat quickened as you watched him stagger to his feet. Chan froze, his blade still aimed at Felix's chin. Chan saw the love he felt for you reflected in the nobleman's eyes.

“You…you love her.” Chan said, his voice nearly shaking.

Felix pulled himself up on his feet and stood facing Chan. His eyes were dark and serious. He glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment, before locking back onto Chan. Felix nodded his head firmly, confirming what Chan had already realized.

Chan nodded, acknowledging the painful truth. He sheathed his sword and turned away, leaving Felix to the care of the approaching footmen. The duel was over, but the echoes of their clash would linger in your heart for years to come.

taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn

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