#whoever raised you did a horrible job

[heejayy]

Ewwww don’t be promoting all that niggar shit

?? You’re mad cause I write for black readers?!… if you don’t like it don’t read it! but what you are gonna do is keep this racist bullshit out of my inbox or anywhere else for that matter. Have a blessed day 🙄

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

[luvrhyune]

-; ✧˖*°࿐ ENCHANTED . LEE MINHO . (TEASER)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ SUMMARY ; lee minho, a man you couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ PAIRING ; royal adviser! minho x afab! royal! reader.

— word count ; 400 (so far)

— warnings ; ANGST, enemies to lovers, fluffy minho, royal au, royal reader, reader is referred to as princess.

lmk what you think!!

the kingdom of jinsko was up bright and early as soon as the sun peaked out from the mountain top. the whole town was wide awake, attending to their jobs - the baker setting out fresh pastries for his stall at the market, the librarian stocking the shelves with new found books, and the blacksmith quickly getting to work with the most recent orders. the town was bustling, and the palace wasn’t far behind. maids were running around, getting the day ready for the royal family and any activities they had planned that day. throughout the chaos of it all, lee minho, walked in the middle of the hallway, stern, stoic expression on his face, eyes observing the halls watching each person rush to complete their task.

lee minho, the royal advisor for the palace of jinsko. some would say he is an angel on earth, an unearthly being that god allowed to bless the earth he walked - from the constellations in his eyes, to the way he held himself with grace. others viewed him as lucifer's son, a horrible man that walked throughout the palace and didn’t care for a single person, aside from himself - he was always so cold, and distant, he didn’t speak until spoken to - nothing like the townspeople of jinsko. minho was well aware that people talked, he had eyes and ears everywhere, he simply did not care.

he had been an important person within the palace since he was a child, both of his parents working there - working at the highest positions they could. minho’s father was the king's head knight, protecting the king and queen with his life, until he unfortunately passed when minho was a boy, protecting the youngest crown holder who just happened to be his son's age. his mother worked as the royal advisor, having a close relationship with both the king, queen and the youngest crown holder. after minho’s father passed, the queen wanted minho to learn from his mother so when he was to become of age, he could take over his mothers job, leading him to the position he holds to date.

the brunette's movements came to a halt in front of a large, old, wooden door. a smirk kissed  his lips as he raised his hand, pounding on the oak - disturbing whoever was inside. “fuck off.” a muffled voice called out, forcing out a laugh from minho.

-; ✧˖*°࿐ PERMANENT TAG LIST !!

@hyunverse , @ddenoudepression , @bbujiikseu , @seungbinbin , @chansburgah , @notastraykid , @seraphicsolitude , @sunboki , @yongbokkari , @puppyluvvy , @choiwonder

all rights reserved © property of @luvrhyune . please do not repost, claim or translate my work on this and / or any other platforms. thank you.

[gogogodzilla]

Happily Ever After || Cullen Rutherford

Summary: Cullen decides to fight for his love. For better or worse.

Note: Part 2 to Lovers' Quarrel from Cullen's POV. Heavily inspired by this post! Go check out their work, it's amazing!

{Part 1}

Cullen was a man dedicated to his job. Or, well, he liked to think he was. But, as he half-read the reports on his desk, he found his mind wandering. His lover’s unwilling betrothal to someone else has plagued his mind in the days since he found out. Not to mention that the Inquisitor might die if they didn’t find a way to stop the mark from spreading. 

 The creaking of the door to his office caught his attention, and he raised his head to greet whoever decided to visit him. 

“Leliana,” he nodded to the spymaster, and stood from his desk, “what are you doing here?” 

Leliana took a few steps towards his desk, “The Inquisitor's situation is an unfortunate one. Josephine can only do so much on her side, and there’s no guarantee the Inquisitor would be freed from the commitment.” 

He clenched his fists at his side, “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because,” Leliana had that glint in her eyes that she got when she was suggesting something morally questionable, “there is something you can do to help them.” 

“What is it?” Cullen’s answer was instantaneous. Anything to help his love. Although, the look on Leliana’s face unsettled him a bit. 

She leaned in, “You could duel this Marion Jager for the Inquisitor’s hand and be done with it.” 

“No, they wouldn’t want me to do that for them,” he replied forcefully. 

Leliana straightened and crossed her arms, “Think about it, Commander.” And with that, she turned on her heel and left his office. 

He slowly sank back into his chair. Leliana did have a point. If he could duel this Marion then the Inquisitor would be freed from them. He was running out of options, and right now this seemed like the best one. 

He would fight for his love, then. Nothing was going to get in between them. 

The next day, he arranged for one of his people to deliver the challenge for a duel. He felt horrible for going behind the Inquisitor’s back, but white-hot determination quickly overcame that guilt. 

He was issuing the command when the Inquisitor came into his office. “I need this sent out immediately,” he commanded before dismissing the soldier. The soldier nodded to him before taking their leave, bowing slightly to the Inquisitor as they passed. 

The Inquisitor nodded to the soldier before returning their focus to Cullen. He couldn’t help the way his heart beat faster whenever they looked at him. It made him feel like a teenager all over again. 

“I love when you use that tone of voice,” the Inquisitor purred as they made their way around his desk and took a seat on the edge. They pulled him closer to them by the waist, and he stood between their legs.

He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to their lips, “How are you feeling?” 

They followed him as he pulled away to ask his question, their noses bumping together for a moment before the Inquisitor leaned in. He set his hands on either side of their hips, trapping them at his desk. 

“Better, now that I’m with you,” was their cheeky response as they leaned in again. You would think that they hadn’t seen each other in years, the way they were wrapped up in one another. Although, he wouldn’t forget the events of earlier that morning for a very long time. 

“If you’re trying to sweet-talk me, it’s working,” he whispered against their lips. They let out a giggle, as they released their hold on him to cup his face in their hands and deepen the kiss. 

He let out a groan as the Inquisitor’s hands moved to run through his hair, and he pushed them toward the edge of his desk. 

They pulled away, lips shiny and plump from their endeavors. “Your presence is requested in the war room, Commander,” they panted out, a blush dusting their cheeks. He knew he was bright red based purely on how hot he felt. 

“Of course, Inquisitor,” he breathed. Maker, help him. 

He stepped away, allowing the Inquisitor to rise from his desk. He offered them his arm, which they graciously took. 

“Have you and Josephine made any progress on the betrothal situation?” He asked nonchalantly as they made their way through the rotunda, Solas’s old paintings scattered across the walls. It filled him with some sadness to see the area so empty. 

The Inquisitor paused to stare at one of the murals, “No, but we’re getting there.” They deflated slightly, and he stepped in front of them, preventing them from walking any further. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he assured as he lifted their face so they’d look at him. They kissed him, short and sweet, before dragging him to the war room. 

They entered together before reluctantly separating to take their usual seats. Josephine wandered over to the Inquisitor and they began talking in hurried whispers. 

“I see you took my suggestion, Commander,” Leliana smirked as she leaned closer to him. 

He huffed, “Can you keep them busy when I have to go?”

“Just say the word,” she murmured, before returning her attention to the Inquisitor who was finishing her conversation with Josephine. 

The Inquisitor’s eyes darted between Cullen and Leliana, and his heart sank. They knew.

“Shall we begin?” The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow, a slight grin gracing their features. 

“Yes, Inquisitor,” he replied.

A few days passed before he received a response to his challenge. A runner entered his office with a message which stated that an envoy had just arrived from Marion Jager, and he was waiting to speak with Cullen. 

“Send him to my office,” Cullen told the messenger who simply nodded in response. Cullen stood at his desk for a few moments, mulling over what to say to this envoy. Hopefully, their meeting would be quick, and he could get right to the part where he destroys the person who threatened to take his love from him. 

A lanky man wearing the usual Orlesian half-mask entered his office, and Cullen held back a sneer. He never understood why Orlesians insisted on wearing those ridiculous masks. 

“Greeting, Commander,” the man stood tall in front of his desk, “I am here on behalf of Sovereign Marion Jager. They accept your challenge and shall expect you in Val Royeaux.” 

Cullen nodded, “I’ll be there.” 

“Good, I will let the Sovereign know. Good day, Commander,” the man gave him a slight bow and took his leave. 

Cullen felt his pulse quicken. He needed to think of an excuse that would allow him to be gone for at least a week without the Inquisitor knowing. 

“I need your help,” Cullen said and Leliana stood in front of him, the warm afternoon light shining in through the window behind her. The ruffling of feathers sounded behind him, and he tried to ignore it. He wasn’t particularly fond of the rookery. 

“Ah, Commander, right on time,” she replied with a knowing smile. 

He sighed, “Can you distract them? I need to go to-”

“Val Royeaux, yes, I know.” 

He never quite understood just how Leliana seemed to know everything that occurred in Skyhold. She just did. Although, he supposed it was her job to know everything just like it was his job to whip the recruits into shape. 

“I’ll need about a week to get there, just keep them busy until I can get back,” he continued. Normally, he wouldn’t dare lie to the Inquisitor, but these were different circumstances. The guilt still tore him up inside, though. 

Leliana hummed, “I’m sure Josie and I can think of something.” 

“You cannot include Josephine in this,” he stressed, “you know how she gets when it comes to the Inquisitor.” Josephine was one of his closest friends, but he knew that she couldn’t keep a secret from the Inquisitor. All they had to do was give her ‘the look’ and she was spilling everything. 

“We need everyone on board for this, which includes Josephine,” Leliana countered, raising a brow at him. 

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck before letting out a deep sigh, “Fine. Just buy me some time. Please.” 

“Of course, Commander. When will you leave?” She asked, a victorious glint in her eyes. 

He narrowed his before replying, “As soon as possible. I’d like to get this over as soon as possible.” 

Footsteps behind him caused him to turn and he blanched. Shit.

The Inquisitor ascended the steps and looked between the two of them. “Are you going somewhere, Commander?” They questioned, taking a few steps toward Cullen. 

He opened his mouth, ready to come clean. He knew when he’d been caught. 

“The Commander was just telling me that he received word from Emperor Gaspard asking for his assistance in training the Orlesian troops,” Leliana covered for him almost instantaneously. Thank the Maker. 

The Inquisitor’s gaze shifted solely to Cullen, a slight frown gracing her features, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Maker, he wanted to come clean right there and then. Anything to stop the disappointment from gracing her features. 

“I just wanted to make sure Gaspard was telling the truth before I came to you,” he was sweating, and he hoped the Inquisitor couldn’t tell. He was quick to remedy the situation, or possibly dig a deeper hole for himself.

“I’ll only be gone for two weeks, at most,” he moved forward to encase their hands in his, “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.” That was a lie. He knew that the Inquisitor would never stop him from taking this opportunity. He also knew that he was going to Val Royeaux no matter what. 

The Inquisitor looked over his shoulder to Leliana, and they nodded, “Alright, Cullen… Just come back to me, okay?” 

“Always, my love,” he said softly and pressed a kiss to the forehead.

Maker, he was the worst. 

The journey to Val Royeaux was eventless. Cullen’s muscles ached from the long days on horseback, but he knew it’d be worth it. He’d do anything if it meant his love would stay in his life. 

He was on edge as he entered the golden gates, standing up a little straighter and hand resting on his sword at his side. 

Cullen entered the round marketplace, the white stone nearly blinding him. A figure approached him and he stopped in his tracks. They were probably the only other person without a mask on, and they narrowed their eyes. Two servants in full metal masks stood behind them with rapiers held out in their hands like an offering. 

“I am Sovereign Jager of Ostwick, rightfully betrothed to Inquisitor Trevelyan,” they asserted before turning to the servants and grabbing a rapier in each hand. “I have to say, I was surprised to hear of a challenger for the Inquisitor’s hand, but I accept your challenge nonetheless,” they said before tossing him a rapier. 

He caught it effortlessly and narrowed his eyes at his opponent. Anyone would be lucky to have the Inquisitor’s hand. He thanked the Maker for every day they allowed him to remain in their life. 

A crowd started to form to watch their altercation. He would’ve preferred that their duel didn’t occur in a public place, but he bit the inside of his cheek and stifled his complaints. 

“Before we begin, I trust the weapon is to your satisfaction?” They asked as they began circling each other, waiting for the other one to strike.

His grip on the rapier tightened, “It’ll do.” 

They let out a laugh before swishing their rapier in the air, “Then let us begin.” And with that, their duel began. Cullen made a mental note to thank the Iron Bull for helping him prepare for the duel. Bull was slightly more enthusiastic about it than he was, but he appreciated it nonetheless. 

They exchanged blows for a few moments before Marion took a few steps back and laughed, “You’ve done well for an unsophisticated oaf such as yourself.”

He charged at them, and their swords came together with a clang. He pushed them backward, channeling all of his frustration into his swings. Their swords clashed together with neither of them giving in, and they were inches apart. 

“Felling you in front of the Inquisitor would provide a poor impression of House Jager to my betrothed,” they said with a smirk. 

“You won’t so much as touch them,” Cullen growled before they pushed him away. He stumbled backward but caught himself. 

Marion raised their rapier, “I admire your determination, Commander, but you cannot hope–” 

“Stop!” someone in the crowd cried. He knew that voice. Shit.

The Inquisitor pushed past two onlookers, nearly knocking them over in the process. 

“Inquisitor!” Cullen straightened, and his ears turned red. He felt like a teen getting caught fighting in the barracks with a fellow Templar. 

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford, what are you doing?” They demanded as they marched toward him. It was times like this that reminded him just how terrifying the Inquisitor could be. 

He flushed a deeper red, suddenly embarrassed. “I can’t take the chance that you might have to marry them,” he defended, throwing an accusing finger at Marion. 

“That is not your decision to make!” They fumed, hands clenching at their sides. Maker, they were furious. “You lied to me,” they continued, “all so you two could fight over my hand like children! The Inquisition needs you, I need you.” 

Cullen threw his rapier to the side, “I love you, and I would do whatever it takes to keep you in my life… If that means dueling for your hand, then so be it. ”

Their eyes softened and they grabbed the neck of his armor, pulling him down for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around them, needing them closer. 

“If I may, Inquisitor,” Marion interjected, and they reluctantly parted, “I’d assumed your affair with the commander was one out of passion or convenience, but I see now that that was not the case.” 

The Inquisitor intertwined their fingers with his, and Marion continued, “I am not fool enough to stand in the way of true affection. House Jager regretfully withdrawals the terms of our betrothal.” 

“Thank you,” the Inquisitor replied, a slight smile on their lips. Marion bowed and turned on their heel. 

Cullen took the Inquisitor in his arms once again, “I cannot apologize enough, my love. I should have told you about the duel.” 

“Yes, you should have,” the Inquisitor pursed their lips, before draping their arms around his neck, “But considering the fact you’re still alive, I’ll forgive you.” 

He kissed their lips, hoping that his actions could convey just how thankful he was for them. 

“Don’t ever lie to me again,” they ordered, grabbing his face with one of their hands and bringing him to their level. 

He nodded, and their mouth curved into a smile. They placed a gentle kiss on his lips and released his face from their grasp. 

Maker help him; he was going to marry the Inquisitor if it was the last thing he does.

[rafent]

[ 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦 ]

“ y'know, raffy-taffy, it's almost annoying how good you are at pretending to be useless. ”

fogado's faux-annoyed tone belies clear joy, face painted with freshly-spattered blood from some no-name he's pinned under his knife. he's not even bothering to watch where his knife is going---it's like a surprise, however he ends up killing this person. fogado can treat the body like meat if he pleases---it won't matter in the end.

this job is better than anything he had going for him before. he's right hand to an entity whose power he can't even begin to comprehend, and the amount of blood that spills is enough to keep the party going for years and years and years. fogado keeps up the stream by sort of throwing himself at whoever looks at rafal even a bit weirdly. sure, rafal could dust them with the flick of a finger, but fogado likes to show his devotion to the guy that lets him go wild beast on whatever.

such has happened to the newly-corrupted that still lies beneath fogado---in fact, fogado is simply so pleased with himself that he's considering sticking his winding blade back into the body. would it kill them again? probably. would rafal get mad at him? who knows!

but fogado thinks better of it. after all, they're trying to amass an army for a reason. even if this one life was more than worthless, it wouldn't do to start culling their numbers just because. it wasn't like they could even bleed anyways. so instead he hops off, giving the reanimation a rough kick in the head as it tries to stand up.

“ khaha~! stupid thing, stupid thing, ” sings fogado, jumping around with arms raised and bloody knife spinning between his fingers. “ thinkin' he had a shot... ”

but suddenly he's in rafal's face for no other reason other than he just fucking feels like it. “ but i'd ne~ver let anyone touch you, ” he hums now, almost grandstanding. “ not even with a little bitty fingernail---'cuz i'd cut the whole hand off~! ” he makes a show of almost hacking his own hand off. “ the whole right hand, 'cuz i'm your right-hand man and stuff~! hahahaha~!! ”

sweeping a foot out and upwards, fogado tumbles to the ground in a heap of laughter and blood. the ring of his mirth is a horrible sound, but it quiets soon---he simply has more he must say to the master whom he serves.

“ ahhh, what fun. you'll call on me whenever you need me, right? ” he rolls to a sitting position, looking up at rafal keenly. “ i'm your loyal murder doggy, so feel free to point me at whoever's throat you wanna see ripped out, o~kaaaay~? ”

— 𝐢. sender has killed someone who threatened the receiver

The undead Prince of Solm retained a crown in this only; being the cream of Rafal's rotten crop. His cold eyes watched the other's gratuitous display, a reanimated soldier squatted upon by the young man. Preferring to kill neatly in order to leave the body and brain intact, even Fell Dragons did not squander time or play with corpses afterward to such a degree. With his unique attitude, Fogado showed to the world another brand of cruelty entirely, even if to Rafal that cruelty mattered little. It mattered a thousand times more that he was efficient.

"Do not place the newly born Corrupted under duress. Also; if you will dare to utter my true name then you will say it right." He admonished the nickname, nostrils flaring and brows hauled low, but an '-or else' never came. Despite his insulted demeanor, there were no elaborated consequences to committing offenses against him, no caveats to undisciplined language.

Fogado was useful, after all. Fogado was dead, after all. Brandishing threats against his Corrupted was no different from jeopardizing a doll with strings he could cut at will. It was meaningless, venting frustrations upon lesser creatures dependent on his magic to stand, and to Rafal they were all mostly the same. Mostly, and not totally, if only because some were more advantageous than others. His gaze traveled to Fogado again, preparing to dispense an order, and stopped short at the distance, then the collapse onto the floor. Then the laughter.

". . . . . . ."

His silence was a vast blanket, amused and disgusted and tolerating all in one. Peering down the bevel of his nose, the Fell Heir pursed his mouth into a deeper frown at the metaphor. Dogs? Stinking and slobbering creatures far withdrawn from being his first choice. "I do not require your protection, Fogado, but I do require your talents. And if you are done larking around, then I will generously fulfill your wish. Let us get into the thick of your next assignment. There is work to be done."

Master and dog; lord and knight; no matter how, they played the farce. For the joyful Fogado who enjoyed it, or perhaps for lonely, lonely "Nil" who knew no other way - the tender dragon who had always possessed his Four Winds close at hand following the end of the war. On the flip side of his false identity - a double life of a double life - some semblance of normalcy yet remained. Even if he was bereft three knights, at least when he gazed upon Fogado there was still one.

[opie-nixx]

I Just Wanted To Kiss You. (Filler Chap.

Have y'all been seeing the internet goin WILD for Ghost? Listen, I am so glad people are writing smut and making simp edits for that man. I have been waiting since 09 for this and I AM THRIVING! THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR WORK I AM LOVING IT!

Back in Rhodes the campfire slowly crackling as Pearson cuts vegetables for tonight's stew. I only pray it doesn't taste as horrible as previous nights. The sun beaming through the leafy trees somewhat, somewhat because the only thing you could really feel from the sun was the heat. Arthur, Dutch and Hosea went out fishing, leaving everyone else to there own accord. Karen was doing some sewing for Javier's shirt that got a bullet hole, Tilly was scrubbing, Mary Beth was helping Kieran with the horses, Abigail and Jack were feeding the chickens and I was sat at a table cleaning everyone's guns. I started offering to clean their guns if they didn't want to or were too tired. I figured I would offer an extra hand, we were all just keeping busy and it felt relaxing.

Karen: "If I prick my finger again, I swear I'll just throw this on the fire."

Tilly: "I'm happy to swap later if you want."

Karen: "I'm sure Grimshaw would have a problem with that."

Y/n: "I'm almost done, I can come over and help. Gimme a few minutes." I say dragging the cloth down the barrel to Javier's repeater who was strumming his guitar sitting next to me when Grimshaw approaches me. I look up to her scornful face.

'She seems in a mood today.' I offer her a small smile.

Grimshaw: "I got something else I want you to do." I set down the gun and the cloth as she grabs my wrist and pulls me aside, not too private since Charles was working on the medical wagon wheel.

Y/n: "Whats up?" I ask raising an eyebrow.

Grimshaw: "I think you should try workin."  She whispers the last bit quietly.

Y/n: "What do you mean? Is there somethin I'm not doing? I've been working with Dutch and Arthur and putting more than my share into this camp." I argue crossing my arms.

Grimshaw: "No, I mean you should go to the saloon and try workin."

Y/n: "What do you mean workin at the saloon? I don't know anything about makin drinks?"

Grimshaw: "I mean a job seducing men." She blurts out, catching me off guard, My eyes widen and I could swear bulge out of there sockets and Charles stopped hammering.

Y/n: "What did you just say to me?" I snap my eyes meeting her stern gaze.

Grimshaw: "We all have to contribute something in order to eat."

Y/n: "And that's fine, but I've done more than my share to earn my place here and then some." I raise my voice, raising a few heads from the women and I could feel my heart race with anger.

Grimshaw: "Then maybe I'll speak to Dutch." She retorts

Y/n: "Speak to whoever the fuck you please, but I will not do that." That's when faint laughter can be heard coming up the lake.

Grimshaw: "Oh, you're all lazy." She comments before turning on her heel and heading towards the plank. My eyes widen and I scoff, before she can get farther than an arms length I grab her shoulder and yank her towards me and send my fist straight into her nose. A loud crunch emitting from this and everyone rushing towards us as Grimshaw lands on her ass holding her nose. Karen started laughing and Charles came towards me as I towered over her and began pushing me away and Bill and Micah came to Grimshaws aid.

Y/n: "You got some fucking audacity to say that to my face." I say pointing threateningly at her as Charles grips my shoulders and gently pulling me away.

Micah: "You need to calm down." He says almost mockingly, I don't even give it a second thought before I lunge out of Charles grasp and throw my fist in his face as well, he stumbles back a bit before trying to storm after me. Charles rushes up before he can even touch me, he grabs him by his waist and slams him into the ground causing dirt to fly up.

Bill: "Whats gotten into all of you!?" He shouts holding a cloth to Grimshaws bleeding nose.

Y/n: "Us?" I narrow my eyes and glare at him.

Bill: "Yes, you!" He puffs out his chest as he steps closer to me, I step up to him as well but that's when Javier steps between us.

Javier: "Lets take a breather here and everyone calm down." Our heads turn as we hear faint laughter and a boat pull to shore. Javier ghosts his hand on the small of my back and guides me away making small talk to calm me down as everyone begins to walk away as does everyone else before I hear Bill mutter something.

Hosea: "We have fish!" His voice giddy with excitement, oblivious to the current tension in the camp. Dutch says something to Arthur before parting ways, Arthur walks up with a small smile on his face glancing at me before heading over to Pearson's wagon carrying some fish.

Bill: "You're lucky your owners here." He spits venomously before tending back to Grimshaw. Javier pinches my side before I give him anymore of my attention and cause a bigger scene.

Javier: "Look at how happy Dutch and them look. Lets not real them into this mess as well, si?" He asks not really hinting for any opposition to his statement.

'Hes right..' I think as I glance over at Hosea and Arthur turning in some fish and Dutch talking with Molly. Javier gives my waist a small squeeze and a quick peck to my hand before running off somewhere around camp.

Arthur: "Y/n!" I hear him call out, I snap my head towards his direction as he approaches. My eyes widening at the sight of his new black eye and busted lip.

Arthur: "What?" He looked up at me through his hat, a sour look on his face.

Y/n: "Don't what me, what's wrong with your face?" I say as I grip his chin with my index and thumb leaning down inspecting his black eye and busted lip.

Y/n: "Did you get into a fight with a fish?" I chuckle. Arthur pulls his face out of my grasp.

Arthur: "Not necessarily." He grumbles kicking the dirt around his feet.

Y/n: "Why don't I come take care of it?" I suggest with a smile this time catching his gaze.

Arthur: "If you want." He mopes and I scoff as I make my way to the medicine wagon, him following loosely behind me. Grabbing a health cure and a rag I turn to Arthur who seemed to be upset.

Y/n: "Whats wrong, You're usually more talkative with me than this" I tilt my head looking up at him. He sighs as his hands grip his gun belt.

Arthur: "I guess I'm just not in a talkin mood." He snaps, I set the cure and rag down on the wagon ledge and take a few steps towards him.

Y/n: "Arthur, I have had a very bad altercation before you came back and I am not in the mood for the mind games." With those last few words, I backed him into a crate, stopping a bit before. I could tell my small outburst caught him off guard but before he could retort and intimidate me, I give him a small push against his chest catching him off balance as he plops down on the crate by the wagon. To my own surprise instead of him yelling at me or getting up and walking off. He laughs as I turn around with rag and health cure in hand. Dampening the rag slightly with the liquid, Arthur takes off his hat and angles his head up at me his eyes flicking back and forth between my own.

Arthur: "Would this altercation have anything to do with Ms. Grimshaw and Bill tending to her broken nose?" He nods his head to there direction.

Y/n: "She wanted me to go be a working girl at the saloon so I could contribute more, because I guess what I do isn't enough." I say gripping his chin rather roughly causing him to wince a bit.

Y/n: "Sorry, I would rather change Swanson's filthy sleep clothes before I would ever do that." I gently dab his lip

Arthur: "You want me to go talk to her?"

Y/n: "No. Its bad enough people think were together." With that I pull away and toss the rag in the wagon as I lean against it taking a deep breath. I hear Arthur stand up with a sigh.

Arthur: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give the wrong impression since your with Javier." My eyes widen as I look up to Arthur and meet his sad eyes, I couldn't contain the laughter that erupted from my throat. I double over holding my stomach.

Y/n: "Mr. Morgan, where would you ever get an idea like that?" I ask trying to stifle my laughter.

Arthur: "Its only obvious from the way he touches you."

Y/n: "I'm sure he fancies me, but the feeling isn't mutual." Arthur seemed to have a look of relief when that sentence left my mouth.

Y/n: "You seem relieved by that."

Arthur: "Maybe." I chuckle and he gives me a half cocked smile. 

Into the evening and the setting of the sun Arthur kept me company. It felt nice to have the silly thought of Arthur being jealous. Just to have someone want me all to themselves...To have someone want me, I suppose. The thick soupy air that smelled like fish and sweat had a different scent. It was gonna rain, sitting on a rock with a beautiful overview of the lake taking drags from a cigarette I find myself lost in my own thoughts. Arthur scribbling in his journal leaned against a tree. The rest of the gang talking amongst themselves or off to there own accord.

Y/n: "I die to know whats in that journal."

'I wonder if he put me in it.'

Arthur: "Then die you shall, Miss L/n." I hear him chuckle as snaps his journal shut, thunder rumbling through the cloudy sky.

Arthur: "We should get you to your tent. We wouldn't want you to get all wet and sick."

Y/n: "Can I kiss you?"

Arthur: "What?" His eyes wide with shock as he looks around to see if anyone heard me even second guessing himself.

Y/n: "Can I kiss you?" I ask again sucking my bottom lip between my teeth and gently chewing the flesh. Thunder breaking some of the tension and my embarrassment.

Arthur: "What would possess you to wanna do a thing like that?"

Y/n: "Do you not want me too?" Arthur sighs before replying

Arthur: "I didn't say that. I just...think we could go back to my tent. I don't want you worried about what other people think."

Y/n: "But I wanna do it right here. If it'll make you feel better about Javier touching me, and so Grimshaw doesn't ask me to be a tavern whore."

Arthur: "I..?" His gaze jumping around camp to see if anyone was looking.

Arthur: "Why do you wanna do this now, woman?"

Y/n: "I just want to kiss you." Griping my chin with his thumb and index he pulls my face close to his, taking his hat off his head he holds the brim of it beside our faces blocking a nosey Karen from watching us mutually connect our lips.

Y/n: "Was that so hard, Arthur?" I smile into the kiss as I place my hand over his that's gripping the hat and slowly lowering it as I lean into him again for another kiss.

Dutch: "Bout time, Arthur!" We break away for a bit so Arthur can scowl at him.

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 22

Wildlife conservation expert Geralt is roped into helping Roche identify some endangered species potentially poached by the suspicious characters living in the hills.

in other words a horrible tw2 modern au with cop roche and redneck elves. apologies in advance lol

The drive cutting up through the hills had seen better days, washed out in ruts and pot-holed to hell. If somebody didn't know better, they'd say whoever had once lived at the end of this drive was long gone. Or at least not worth bothering.

They'd left the truck back by the main road. For all that it was big and black and mean with an ugly grille and flashing lights, it was useless on land like this. Geralt grabbed Roche's arm as the guy slipped on a skid of gravel. 

“The tread on those boots just for show too?” he asked, and Roche shook him off.

Geralt knew his type. Small-town nobody with something to prove, a transfer all the way from Vizima out to the podunk Pontar Valley who took his job far too seriously. He kept fiddling with the bent brim of the black baseball cap he wore, frowning like he was displeased it couldn't keep the fine mist of rain off his race.

Geralt had never liked cops much and would rather be coming up here alone. There'd been some tip about poached squirrels. Endangered species endemic to this area. Unfortunately, Geralt was one of the few wildlife conservation experts around who could give an ID. 

“It's just over this ridge,” Roche grunted. He looked nervous, like he wanted to go for the gun at his hip.

When they came up over the ridge, the drive sank again, piddling out into a browned yard cluttered with scrap that surrounded a single-wide trailer. Smoke chugged from the crooked pipe of a chimney. 

“Where'd this tip come from again?” asked Geralt. These people didn't look like they got into town much.  A pair of muddy ATVs and a snowmobile sat parked in a run in shed, and scattered around were a dozen more pieces and parts of varying vehicles that might run in a pinch.

“Doesn't matter,” said Roche. “We've got a warrant to search the premises. I'll talk to them. You keep an eye out.”

He pounded the front door with more vigor than Geralt figured was necessary. At first, it seemed like no one would answer. Maybe they'd heard them blundering up the drive and booked it out a back window. 

The door cracked, and a green eye set in an angular face appeared.

“Good to see you, officer,” drawled a nasally voice that did not sound at all sincere. “How nice of you to visit again. Two times in one week? Pity you didn't call first. I'd have invited you for supper.”

“Iorveth, open the door,” Roche sighed. “We got another tip. Brought in an expert this time.”

The door opened further to reveal an eyepatch covering part of a scarred cheek, and the slender, pointed ears of an elf. Geralt hadn't seen an elf in years. They were as much in danger of dying out as any endangered species he studied, but of course, with far less protections afforded to them.

Iorveth looked him up and down. 

“You're not from around here,” he said. 

“Neither are you,” said Geralt.

Iorveth's accent was a thick and woodsy drawl common to mountain folk. He'd guess Blue Mountains, where pockets of whole towns full of elves still lived. Geralt had been raised farther north and given up his mountain dialect in the hopes of getting any respect in his field.

Mostly that respect had just roped him into shit like this.

Roche shot him a look, clearly not pleased that Geralt had ignored that he'd said he would do the talking.

This Iorveth, according to Roche, was a regular son of a bitch surrounded by rumors of all sorts of suspicious activity, but no one had ever been able to pin him with anything. 

He had connections through his fugitive cousin Isengrim Faoiltiarna to the domestic terrorist Scoia'tael movement and was rumored to be associated with dangerous anarchist Saskia, not to mention being the likely source of most illicit moonshine and hash in the Valley.

“Don't make this difficult,” Roche said. His thumbs hitched in the front of his belt, not far from his holster.

“Of course, come on in,” said Iorveth. “Don't want to have to fix the doorjamb again.”

The inside of the trailer was plenty short on space but almost cozy, a galley kitchen looking out over a living room furnished with lumpy couches. The space was full of elves, more than Geralt had ever seen. Peeling potatoes at the sink. Plucking at the strings of a guitar. Feeding a crackling woodstove and stirring the pot that bubbled on top.

They all eyed the intruders with clear disdain.

“That look like endangered squirrel stew to you, Geralt?” Roche asked, and Geralt didn't bother to cross the room to take a look. The meat in the pot could be just about anything.

“Sorry, I'm a wildlife guy. Not much of a culinary expert,” said Geralt, shrugging. “Smells good though.”

“Am I going to find anything interesting in the back rooms, Iorveth?” Roche asked as he headed down the hallway, so narrow his shoulders brushed each wall.

“I'm sure you'd like that, officer,” said Iorveth, dripping with innuendo. 

With Roche's back turned, the elf nodded to Geralt, a brow quirking up. It took him a breath to notice the others in the room had gone still and tense. The curtains of the a window set high on the wall billowed in a breeze. 

He had a feeling Roche would find far more than squirrel pelts in a thorough search of the trailer. That this hadn't really been about the damn squirrels from the start.

The door to the back bedroom clicked open.

“Geralt!” Roche's voice carried, and in a flurry of activity most of the elves scattered through the open doorway. ATVs revved.

There was the sound of a scuffle from the back room. Still standing by the woodstove, Iorveth met his eye. 

Geralt had only a moment to make a choice.

Roche reappeared with splotches of color high on his cheeks and cap knocked off his head, barking requests for backup into his radio.

Before Iorveth scrambled up and through the window, he kicked over the woodstove, threadbare carpet and peeling wallpaper swiftly catching as burning logs scattered. Then, he bent back through the window to offer a hand.

Swearing under his breath, Geralt clasped their arms together and went through.

[thatoneidiotdts]

Of sea and ash

A/n: I felt sad today so I wrote this as a fuck you to whoever reads this ig. Gifs aren't mine as usual. REQUESTS ARE ALSO OPEN COMMON PEOPLE I'M DYING OF BOREDOM HERE.

Wordcount: 0.8k

Note: Billy and reader are twins and not in a romantic relationship. Eddie and reader are together and also Mechanic!Eddie.

Warnings: mentions of abuse and neglect, mentions of Neil, no happy ending

You opened the door of the blue Camaro. The smell of salt hit your face as you looked in the distance, the tranquil ocean met your gaze, soft waves hitting the sandy shore.

You untied your shoes and placed them on the back seat so that you don't carry any sand in the car. Looking over to the passenger seat you took in a deep breath. Slowly you unbuckled the urn and held it close to your chest.

For a while you held the urn in your arms, not completely sure if you can let him go but you figured he had enough of staying in there. You picked up the beach bag from the back seat and finally stepped out of the car.

The hot sand felt nice against the soles of your feet as you walked closer to the ocean. A good amount of time passed from the last time you saw this view, it felt like you were finally home, where you're supposed to be.

When you found a good place you set down your beach towel you placed the urn next to you after sitting down. After putting on sunscreen you opened the small cooler and took out a beer.

It tasted horrible if you were being honest, you were never sure why would this be your brother's favourite. "You know Billy, you really do have a terrible taste in beer, can't believe I drove all the way here"

You looked down at the urn next to your right, you felt like it was looking up at you. "I'm sorry for not talking to you more. After your funeral it's been.. hard. Had to fight dad to not get you buried in fucking Hawkins."

"He said I had to pay for it so I did, I will admit taking out such a loan was a little bit scary but I finally paid it off. It was all worth it because now you aren't buried in that terrible shithole of a town"

You remember it clear as day, that night you had to go to the hospital from how hard your father had beaten you for raising your voice at him. You knew he didn't like it when someone was telling the truth about his abuse but at that point you didn't care.

After couch hopping for a while you and Billy finally found a place to stay and a job. It was nothing fancy but at the time it was great.

"I've also fixed up your car, it took me a while but I've finally managed to do it. I've met this cute guy at the hardware store and he helped me out with it and something between us just clicked, long story short after he finally graduated we decided to go back to Cali and well now we are finally moving in together"

"He's been great through all of this, he never yells at me or beats me, he got clean after we got together, hell he didn't even argue with me when I said I wanted to do this alone! Im sure you would like him if you were here now"

You turned your gaze back to the ocean in front of you, better now than never. Letting out a sigh you picked up the urn and the second beer from the cooler. Stepping into the salty water, a shiver ran through your body as you took a moment before continuing to walk forward.

When you were above knee deep into the water you opened up the urn. "Never thought I'll be the one doing this, I figured I would be the one to die first you know? I hope you suffocate some fishes for me you big dummy."

In a second you flipped over the urn and the ash started to flow out of it. After it was all out you tried to get the last bits of ash out of the urn but unexpectedly a strong gust of wind blew that small amount of ash back on your clothes.

You gasped in horror as you quickly tried to dust your brother off of your clothes "Oh come on! Was this your last 'fuck you'?! Ungrateful idiot!" You laughed as you finally got the ash out of your clothes.

You sighed as you looked towards the now setting sun. The colours of the sky now ranging from a bright orange to a deep purple. You softly smiled to yourself and opened the beer, making sure to keep the cap, and poured most of it in the sea and gulping down the last sip "Goodbye Billy. I'll visit you, I promise!"

For a while you stood there, looking at the ocean, almost expecting for him to say goodbye to you. After returning to the shore you picked up your stuff and got back into the Camaro.

You gripped the steering wheel as you turned on the car, for a final time you looked back before driving off into the night.

[kalid-raven]

Name: Leander Julia Harrison Alias: Lee Gender: Cis Male Age: 26 Sign: Aries (March 25th) Height: 5'9" Hair: Semi-Short, layered, curly black. Eyes: Grey Ethnicity: Caucasian/Mixed, no idea who his father was. Sexual Orientation: Straight Notable Traits: Small spattering of freckles on his face, and a few moles over his person. Two small ones under his left eye. Job: Stripper Unofficial Job: Serial Killer (with a Conscience)

Weapons: A tire iron, sometimes modified piano wire for strangulation

Personality: Fiery, Short-tempered, Sarcastic, Protective, Suspicious, Jealous, Violent, Impatient, Observant, Highly affectionate, Confident, Excellent liar, Adaptable, Stubborn, Trustworthy.

Morality:  Chaotic good, he doesn't give a damn about the law, he feels it fails people more often than not. He has standards for who he kills, and his primary motivation is to protect those like him and his mother; Strippers and other types of sex workers. He won't raise his weapon to those he feels don't deserve it.

Background: (Summary) Leander's mother, Julia, was a sex worker in New York city who accidentally ended up pregnant, much to the ire of her "boss". Still, She chose to be a mother and brought her son into the world, and loved him dearly. Due to the nature of her work, she wasn't sure of the father, and it was doubtless whoever it was would want anything to do with them as it was. Julia did all she could to take care of Leander, but she had one vice that would be her undoing; drugs. She used them to cope with the terrible circumstances she was under, until eventually it took her life from an overdose when Lee was barely seventeen.

She wasn't perfect, she made mistakes, but she was still his mother and he loved her so much. Losing her broke him, and he blamed her "boss" for it. Still, he couldn't touch the man as much as he wanted to, as the wretch had thugs with skills and weapons the boy didn't have. Leander was left to try to pick up the pieces of his life and rush to find work, dropping out of a school. Julia had wanted him to focus on his education, but that wasn't even viable anymore for him. For a time he barely scraped by, working at a grocery store and odd jobs as he could. He always had a violent temper, he was used to restraining it, but that didn't mean he didn't think about smashing someone's face into the wall from time to time. Or beating them to a pulp in the parking lot. Or- you get the picture.

Lee was eighteen when a slightly older friend of his suggested her job to him; stripping. It wasn't news to Leander about her job choice, he grew up surrounded by people who worked jobs like that, his babysitter when he was little was a friend of his mom, who did the same work as her, just on different days. With bills piling up and his current job being miserable, he agreed, though didn't know how to start. This began his lessons in pole fitness and pole dancing, thanks to his friend, Sandra. She was a good teacher, and he learned a great deal quite quickly, as he was a very determined individual. He found he actually really enjoyed it.

It wasn't long until he applied for the job, wanting a good grasp of the skill before hand. He was accepted, and began working. He learned through his life that people could be horrible to sex workers, but he got a front row seat to it in his job. Sandra was a curvy stunner, so it was no surprise she was often a target of those who didn't want to obey the rules, or were too drunk to remember what they were. He nearly got into fights on more than one occasion with patrons who were too handsy.

The major turning point in his life that lead him down the path of killing happened one winter evening after work. Passing through the parking lot, he heard scuffling and muffled screaming. Rushing to the scene, he found Sandra fighting for her life to escape a creep trying to wrestle her to the ground. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

Leander tackled the man and proceeded to beat the living hell out of him in a fit of rage, completely disregarding any pain or damage to himself in the process. He recognized the man, he had gotten thrown out for getting too handsy with the strippers. All Lee could see is red when he finally stopped punching the man and proceeded to choke him until he finally stopped struggling, and continued even after that, wanting to be sure the bastard would never get up again. Killing the man, stopping him from doing the unspeakable to Sandra, filled Lee with a profound sense of power and vindication.

Since then, Lee has found himself unable to shake that feeling nor the knowledge that he had capability of destroying them and make things safer for those he cared about, and those he didn't even know. That was the start of Lee's trip down the path of vigilantism, eventually settling on a tire iron to beat people to death with, and piano wire to strangle them if he acted more on opportunity since he can carry it in his pocket. He has been doing so for about two years now, and targets those who prey on strippers and sex workers of other kinds, and sometimes monsters in general as he sees them. Lee genuinely feels justified in his actions and that he's doing right by the world, and won't hear different.

A/N: Only took me forever ugh x.x Here's my dear Lee, with his sharp cheekbones, sharper glare, and intense rage threatening to explode every five minutes from his 5'9" frame. XD

[darkreunioniscoming]

Alright I'm doing it. I am gonna be writing the Haitani brothers doing normal everyday shit but have plot twist. Basically weird ass head cannons.

Camping

I feel like Ran would be the worst camper ever. He would be dramatic about everything.

Ran: Is that a bug....

Rindou: Yes.

Ran: GET ME THE BUG SPRAY I MUST BATHE IN IT! I MUST!

Rindou:

Rindou would be the one who looks like he knows what he's doing but in the inside he has no idea what the fuck is happening.

Ran: How do you start a fire?

Rindou: I'll do it.

3 hours later

Ran: It's been 3 hours give up already...

Rindou still trying to start a fire: No.

Dealing with a Karen

Ran IS the Karen or he is dealing with a Karen. I feel like after awhile Ran would just beat the shit out of her.

Ran trying to work his part time at McDonald's: Ma'am please calm down, your making a scene.

Karen: NO I ORDERED A 10 PIECE CHICKEN NUGGET FOR MY SON AND I COUNTED THEM AND HE GOT 9. I WANT A REFUND.

Ran hitting her with his baton: There we go.

And then he's fired and to this day he still doesn't know why he's fired.

Rindou would literally do anything to piss a Karen off. Video recording her, mocking her, or really anything. He would most likely ignore her.

Karen: DON'T IGNORE ME!

Rindou:

Karen: RESPECT YOUR ELDERS!

Rindou:

Karen: WHOEVER RAISED YOU DID A HORRIBLE JOB!

And at that Rindou beat the shit out of her.

Babysitting

I feel like Ran would be doing a pretty good job. Until the child gets injured.

Ran: Okay! Go play outside now.

Child: Ok!

Child trips and falls and skins their knee: WAAAAHHHH!

Child: RAAAANNNNNNN

Ran: I can't perform magic, just get up and walk it off.

Child: ITS BLEEDING!

Ran:....Okay?

Rindou would continuously call the parent for help.

Child: I'm hungry!

Rindou:

Rindou speed dialing the parents: Hello? Yeah what do they like to eat?-

-------

Imma stop here. Hope you enjoyed my random stupid thoughts. Have a great day! Or night! Or whatever.......💀

[runner-owen]

Night Storm Confrontation [mlm vampire/human]

No CWs/TWs apply I think - I mean, there’s blood in this, but this is about a vampire so of course, there’s blood in it

Set in the Runner Owen series I’m working on - this blog is dedicated to it, so if you like this, follow me!

--- --- ---  Outside, not a moon to be seen. The storm, a war between thunder and lightning, shook the fragile lives of those who witnessed it. In the castle high on the mountain, there was no danger from the elements, no risk of flooding, no fires to be caught from a rare and deadly bolt from the dark clouds overhead.

The Scarred Man stood in his library and watched the war lash rain like blood against his windows.

"Another horrible storm," he said. "Sweet Mother has lost her patience with her children again and we may all pay the price for it."

"Save the poetry for your sermons, master." Reds chided, his smile wry and fond in the light of the fire he tended. The vampire closed the gate, and did not flinch as the metal complained at the motion. With a soft grunt, he stood.

"Your presence will be wanted by the black moon back in the palaces," Reds continued.

A gentle reminder. He had a job to perform. The gods were even more patient than their children, but they desired to be appreciated like any other. Such was worship, such was service, such was their special religion. Few things brought the Scarred Man such joy.

"We will be ready for it," the Scarred Man said. "I will prepare for my duties and I am sure you and our fledglings will too."

"Without question," Reds said.

A door slammed open somewhere nearby, and both men snapped their heads towards the noise. Footsteps raced heavy on the old stone. Reds crossed the thick carpet to open the library door for the other servant.

The woman, her thick hair pressed wet against her head, leaned forward with her hands pressed against her breeches.

"Master," she gasped out. "Carriage. Humans traveling with a rider. They were in our territory -"

The Scarred Man stepped towards her.

"How many?"

"We've just found the rider. The carriage we're still trying to track. It's not normal, master. Something is wrong."

He rarely felt chills through his body, but in that moment, a cold wind rushed up his spine.

“Something must be wrong,” he said. “If they are entering my territory. Ready our mounts, I will go with you to confront them.”

---

His steed snorted black smoke and leaped into the air, billowing the water-shielded cloak around the Scarred Man as they soared from the castle. The dragonic flapped her wings, growled deep in her chest. The Scarred Man did not need the reins to control her. Together they dove down into the valley. 

The Scarred Man pulled his hat down over his eyes, a flash of lightning far away illuminating his form in the night. 

"They'll know we're coming," he mumbled. "They had to have known."

Ahead, another servant, on a smaller dragonic. She pointed to the west, and to the west he went. The humans had gone through the ravine, or at least, the rider had. No one knew the land like the Scarred Man, seen it from high above and walking in the dirt. Whoever the rider was, they would not get far.

Thunder growled over the flapping of his steed’s wings and the metallic strike of the rain on her scales. Below, he saw the rider. The lean beast the rider commanded had no wings, but a furious howl escaped it as his shadow fell overhead. A pale head turned up from beneath the shadow of the hood, too far away to see anything more than the shade of skin. Lightning flared through the clouds, and the rider forced his mount on faster.

“You will not get away from me, human,” the Scarred Man said to the air.

At the head of the ravine, the dragonic slammed down, digging her claws into the dark wet earth. She shrieked against the storm, and even the wind shuddered at the sound.

The beast and rider jerked to a stop, the dirt raising up against the beast’s paws. The dragonic howled again, its long tail lashing as it bent down its front haunches. The long muzzle bared its teeth, and the Scarred Man’s mount growled, her wings spreading wide and twitching.

The Scarred Man looked at the hands that held the dragonic’s reins. They shook, knuckles white, and red rinsed down them in the rain. 

Red?

He breathed in. 

Blood. 

He hungered - but a moment passed, and he knew he hungered for far more than that.

Another flash of lightning, and the beneath the rider’s hood, the Scarred Man saw the face that matched the blood he smelled.

Owen Rosedown - the Runner.

“What are you doing here?” The Scarred Man whispered. 

The Runner’s eyes burned, not just with defiance, but pain. He pulled one bloody hand away from the reins, and reached beneath the cloak. A flash of lightning danced on the reflective surface of the dagger

The Scarred Man laughed.

“That blade will not save you!” He called out through the storm. “You cannot fight like this!”

There was no reaction, not a single response. The Runner reached into the pack on the saddle of his steed. The pack, tied so tightly together with rope. The Scarred Man’s eyes narrowed.

He covered his eyes just in time. As the blade sliced through the ropes, an animal screamed. Light flashed behind his upraised arm. Wings full of feathers flapped in the dark, and his mount lunged.

The Scarred Man hit the ground before he could realize he’d been thrown off.

In the moment he lay stunned, the Runner dismounted. The Scarred Man heard the wet, almost sticky footsteps in the dirt approach him. The blood smelled sweet - with health, with pain.

He forced himself back to his feet.

Owen Rosedown stood before him, his lesser hand gripping his other arm. The cloak spread open wide, and the rain washed the blood of the faithful man into the dirt, a blessing in the name of the goddess he served. 

The hand holding the dagger shook.

Owen’s legs shook.

He raised the blade.

It slipped from his hands.

The knife hit the earth, but the Runner did not. The Scarred Man was too fast.

Owen pressed his hands against the chest that held him close and still, and shook his head.

“Runner-” The Scarred Man said.

“No,” Owen said.

“Runner - human - Owen-” 

Owen screamed. Thunder rolled and the whole forest recoiled around them, birds crying in the darkness alongside his voice. Tears flowed down the pale freckled cheeks, and the hand clutching the Scarred Man’s chest trembled.

The Scarred Man caught his lips, and swallowed all the despair as it emerged from Owen’s body.

And was it the despair that made him do it? Was it the surrender to inevitability? Was it the years of lessons about suffering, to understand the goddess who brought humans life?

Was it anything but instinct, that for the first time the Scarred Man could remember, Owen kissed back?

When they pulled apart, Owen’s clenched eyes relaxed, and his body sank into the Scarred Man’s arms. He was not dead. Exhausted, perhaps. But his heart did not rest within him, and the lifeblood poured out.

He would not let this one, so precious to him, die.

The Scarred Man looked towards the Runner’s mount. Still it was there, twitching, wet and infuriated, in the dark. He stood. The dragonic’s ears went back. It growled, and a thick tongue slipped from its muzzle to lick over its fangs.

The Scarred Man held Owen close to his chest, and did not waver.

“He will die,” the Scarred Man said, “If you do not let me help him.”

Intelligent eyes narrowed. The dragonic turned away, huffing smoke into the night. But it allowed him to approach, allowed him to place himself and Owen on its back. And when the Scarred Man took the reins, it let itself be led.

Servants watched at the entrance to the castle as the Scarred Man guided the beast up the road. One of them stepped up as he paused at the gate. Seeing the guest pressed against his chest, the man winced.

Owen exhaled.

“Aurum,” the Runner whispered.

Something in the Scarred Man’s body tightened.

“My Lord?” The servant asked. The Scarred Man raised his head. “What do you think is going on?”

Looking down at Owen, the Scarred Man narrowed his eyes.

“I think… there’s been a coup in the humanlands.”

[prose-among-the-trees]

I think I’m the youngest part or alter to make one of these so far. I just wanted to talk about how complicated interests can be.

I play the piano. I have for years, ever since my body was 10. It’s been a pretty big passion of mine, and I adore it a lot. I talk to close friends of mine about all sorts of things having to do with the piano. Arpeggios, diminished scales, and my favorite sorts of songs to play, video game music, and classical pieces.

The problem is though that the piano is also one of the scariest things in my life. When my body was younger, I’d go with a guardian to these parties that they were invited to for everyone who was in the university as them. They weren’t dangerous, just people in their 30’s and 40’s talking about their different PhD programs and how nice their dissertations were coming. Sometimes there would be a piano there, and I’d jokingly be told to ‘make [them] look good.’

I think that joke was internalized a lot. I don’t know what would have happened if I didn’t make them look good, and I don’t know if I would have gotten in trouble, but I learned to be who I am at those parties.

Agreeable, mature, friendly, intelligent, and the mirror image of whatever that person wanted to see. I stopped playing piano for me and started playing piano for whoever needed it at the moment. I was horribly discouraged whenever I messed up in front of a real adult (as I was only playing pretend).

I’d always hear, after a good conversation with whoever wanted me to play something (I have vague memories of someone duetting heart and soul with me as well,) my guardian always being told how well they raised me. How good of a job they did on me. How they must be so lucky to have been able to have a kid like me.

I wasn’t me there. I was what everyone wanted. I’m a scared and angry and sarcastic and definitely not an agreeable kid, not now anyways. I have to actively fight the urge to just mirror whoever I’m speaking to.

I’m really close with someone who’s helping me out of that right now, and if that someone is reading this, you mean the world to me.

Thanks for reading and letting me share.

-🎹

[androgynousblackbox]

Addams X Spy (Spy X Family AU)

 Gomez Addams is the best spy of all of Westalis tasked with gaining a family in order to infiltrate a prestigious school in order to do something Very Important For The World. He start having dates with different people but they all think he is too eccentric for them since he is being just himself for this. He values marriage too much to just lie his way to it to some unsuspecting woman or man, he has no preference really, but this only causes all his options to run away from him. Just when he is thinking about another strategy (online dating perhaps?), suddenly he finds himself with a bloodbath someone left behind and he has his breath taken back because HOW ELEGANT, WHAT FINESE! Whoever killed these people did it so quick and efficiently they must not have suffer at all, like going to sleep forever. Most not even knew what was happening before it was too late! He is so entranced that he doesn’t notice at first the killer coming back again after cleaning herself and he is just stands there, gasping at the beatiful display in front of him. Before she can even lift her gorgeous spikes with roses at the end, he knows for sure that she already pierced her heart (metaphorically) and just falls to his knee, lifting his hands as if to beg for his life but what he is asking is so much bigger than that. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife, please?” Morticia of course is confused, but only takes one talk between the two to find out a couple of things: yes, she is an assasins and he is an spy that needed a wife, but nevermind that, Gomez just now can’t even imagine going a day without her and Morticia ends up accepting because a man who appreciates her killings as much as she does is not something everyone finds any day. They have a brief and discrete weding to then think about adopting a child together. Wednesday is a telepath child of 10 years old who is extremely cynical and doesn’t give a fuck after a lifetime hearing all the horrible thoughts that awful adults have around her. So many “loving parents” gave her back because they just couldn’t stand she wasn’t the sweet happy girl they all wanted. When the Addams come looking for a kid, she didn’t even stopped reading her book, the only one about true crime she could find on the library. She ends up talking with Gomez and Morticia about serial killers and how stupid they were, because if she were a serial killer she would have never been caught and there wouldn’t be a book about her but rather about her killings.  She thinks this is going to be enough to scare them away, but instead they pick her up and take her home. It takes her a few days to find out about the true profession of both her new parents because, well, they are so lovey dovey about each other and trying to be so considerate of her that she can’t read nothing but good thoughts, it’s disgusting. It’s when Morticia starts thinkings about creating a new poison for a new client and Gomez about his next mission that she finally realize what is happening. When she finds out what she thinks is the true reason she was adopted she gets furious and decides to run away, but on the way some bad guys try to kidnap her and before she can take the knife hidden inside of her teddybear, Morticia already killed four of them and Gomez takes care of the rest. Once they finish they run to her, both their mind a jumble mess of worries and concern. It’s so strong and so touching that she finally lets them take her home again, finding comfort on Gomez’s arms as he carries her. At first she didn’t said anything about her telepathy in case they acted weird about it, but after a while she just found it more fun to not explain at all why she knew the things she knew about them, including their jobs. So basically everyone knows about everyone, except Wednesday that keeps her secret to herself because fuck you, that is why. Later on Bond happens but instead of a dog is Pugsley, a feral kid raised as a weapon that can’t speak and bites everyone that comes too close. He is full with visions of the future that he can barely understand and can’t explain to anyone, reason why he was abandoned by the lab that created him. Gomez gets a especial suit and dresses for both Morticia and Wednesday so even if Pugsley bites them it’s alright. When his first word is “dad” they throw a giant party just for him when he gets to be king for a day and get all the junk food he loves.

[aparticularbandit]

Building at Longbourne

Summary: Rose moves into Longbourne Inn, and Lu immediately has a long laundry list of things she wants her to do.

Rose Solano x Luisa Alver Rating: G.

“Okay, you want what now?”

Rose stands, places her hands on the small of her back, and stretches while her thumbs press into the kink just there.  Then she brushes a hand across her sweaty brow and looks up at her handiwork. Which, admittedly, should probably not be called handiwork since the most she’s done so far is demo.

At her words, Luisa immediately prances into the room, wraps her arms around Rose’s waist, and leans up on her tiptoes so that she can rest her chin on her shoulder.  She kisses her cheek and then makes a disgusted smacking noise.  “Ugh, you’re all covered in sweat, and it’s not the good kind of sweat, and there’s dust, and the dust tastes nasty, and—”

Rose turns and kisses her proper, then she pulls away, raising her eyebrows. “Better?”

“A little.”  Luisa frowns. “You’re still all gritty.”

“Tearing down the inside of our new house,” Rose says, gesturing around her with one hand.  She turns back to the room.  “What all did you want me to do with this again?”

~

Longbourne is, admittedly, much better than Rose expected.  It’s still hot and sweaty in the summer because they’re still in Florida, but the lake makes for a nice breeze every now and again. She’s taken to standing on the porch of the little inn Luisa runs, leaning on her elbows on the railing, and staring out at everything.  Her hair’s all frizzy and full of corkscrews the way it had been in the Caymans, and she’s got it half-pulled back behind a Crayola blue bandana with its normal pattern in what is quickly becoming a stained white.

Lu’s been having her do renovations on the inn all summer; she has huge plans for how she wants it to look and feel, and most of those huge plans have to do with their own personal suite.  Ever since she moved up to Longbourne, Lu has a room of the inn to herself – the suite meant for whoever runs the whole thing – but now that Rose is staying with her, she wants it to be bigger.  Better. As though Rose wouldn’t have been fine with it being the way it was.

(Not that Rose minds bigger. She just doesn’t want to be the main workhorse.)

Today, Rose leans forward the same way she always does, elbows propped onto the railing, arms bare in the Florida sun, covered with freckles, lean muscles apparent in the light filtering through the surrounding trees, a glass bottle of lemonade in one hand, regretting that this is just normal lemonade but never wanting to tempt Luisa by getting something harder.  She sighs, takes a deep gulp of her lemonade, and then wipes her lips with the back of one hand.

She could have done exactly none of this in her previous role as Sin Rostro.

Well.

She could have done some of it, but not while she was masquerading as Emilio Solano’s trophy wife. Rose Solano could have done none of this, could only have decided the designs of things and then never been directly involved in the implementing thereof.

But it’s nice – it’s welcome, actually – to let Luisa take on most of the design choices (with the exception of Rose pointing out when things would look absolutely horrible and then having to put her foot down, even when Luisa looks up at her with the biggest, roundest puppy dog eyes that are normally impossible to fight except no, Luisa, she is not painting that hot pink design over wine-purple walls; it would be ugly) and then to just be the grunt doing the job.

She’s….

She’s missed this, actually.

Not that you’ll ever hear her say it to anyone else.

~

Luisa shoves Rose into the shower nightly because Rose works in their suite until long after dark.  By the time Rose makes it back to their bed, she’s too exhausted to do much more than lie there, which Luisa does not appreciate.  But on weekends, Lu forces Rose to take a break and drags her around to her different favorite locales.  Lu’s been in Longbourne far longer than Rose has, and she’s had time to become a regular at certain restaurants (the one diner and then the local pub, where she assures Rose she has never gotten anything even remotely alcoholic, and the bartender unsurprisingly backs her up, while giving Rose an unhappy look) as well as the one grocery store, where she’s become friends with the owner, and the one clothing store, which is as open to modification as Rose’s face changing plastic surgery ring had been.

Soon, Rose becomes a regular about as much as Luisa does, and she finds it’s oddly…comforting.

Again, not that she’ll ever say it to anyone at all.

But Luisa can see it, can see when Rose suggests they go to the pub for her favorite barbecue ribs instead of the diner for hot chocolate, can see the way her nose turns up at the idea of going to the clothing store because she would rather order stuff online than get something from that penny-pinching miser woman who runs the store (and then goes back anyway because she never means it), and she feels her heart – which was already three sizes too big – grow even bigger.

~

“Okay, you’ve got to keep your eyes closed.”

“Why does it matter when you’re covering them?”

“I know you can see through my fingers, Lu.”

Rose walks Luisa to their brand new, finished suite.  She keeps Luisa’s eyes covered with her hands, although she probably should pull that old bandana out of her back jeans pocket and tie that around her eyes instead.  The problem is that, after having been kidnapped…more than once, Luisa doesn’t take as kindly to having a bandana tied around her eyes as she used to.  It’s made some of their play a little tamer on occasion, but Rose will never hold that against her.  Better safe than sorry, after all.  She’s just glad Lu told her instead of trying to push through it and hurting herself.

As they walk forward, Luisa giggles with nerves like a schoolgirl on her first day to a new class (or to high school, although Rose has only ever been to boarding schools and private schools since Elena took over her tutelage). “Is everything the way I wanted it?”

“Wait and see.”

Rose shoves the door open with the tip of one steel-toed boot, leads Luisa in a little further, and then murmurs, “Three, two, one,” into Luisa’s ear before dropping her hands.

For a moment, Luisa doesn’t say anything.  This doesn’t scare Rose, because she’s never scared of anything, but it’s certainly odd.  Lu’s never quiet like this.

Then Lu lets out a squee of excitement.  “It’s perfect!”  She turns and grabs Rose towards her in a big hug, dancing in a circle with her back into their room.  Then, after a final squeeze, she drops her arms and races into their bathroom, where she lets out another little squee of excitement – louder this time, given that it echoes in the bathroom.

Rose chuckles lightly to herself as she follows her into the room, and when Lu finally comes back out with a big smile on her face, she says, “I take it you like it.”

“It’s wonderful!” Lu exclaims. “But, now that you’re done,” she starts, walking towards her, “I’ve got some ideas for fixing up some of the other rooms—”

“No.”  Rose gives Luisa the most firmest look she can, staring down at her, and Luisa’s face falls.  Then a corner of Rose’s lips curves upward as she says, “At least not until I have a good week off.”  She bops the tip of Luisa’s nose.  “I want to break our room in first.”

Luisa’s eyes sparkle with good humor.  “Let’s start now.”

[iwishiwasbatman]

Masked Love (Part 1)

Pairing- Jason Todd x OC; Dick Grayson x Platonic!OC

Warnings- death; Joker being Joker

Word Count- 2,949

Summary- After a devastating loss befalls Elana and her friends, she attempts to strike back.

Ignore typos and spelling mistakes… this is my first fanfic :)

I walked down the stairs toward the shouts from Jason that had echoed up to the clock room. He sounded incredibly excited about something, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Loud and clear, boss,” I heard Jason say sarcastically as I got to the end of the staircase. He sighed, annoyed, as he tapped his phone, which I assumed meant he hung up on whoever he was calling. I went up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my head against his back. I could feel him tense up at first, but relax once he realized it was me.

“Hey, babe,” Jason greeted.

“Hey.” I smiled to myself. I let go and he turned around to face me with his normal Jason smile on his face. “Were you fighting with Bruce again?” I asked.

“No,” he lied. I raised my eyebrows and crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, fine. Maybe I was, but it’s fine. You don’t need to worry about it. Got it?”

“I guess, but I’m still gonna worry anyway,” I told him.

“Are you done with patrol already?” he changed the subject.

“It was a slow night.” It was true. I had to stop one mugger and that was it. Aside from that, I sat there for five hours. Just sitting there. Doing nothing. It was horrible.

“Tell you what. Why don’t you go upstairs and set up the living room for a movie,” Jason said, putting his hand on both my shoulders. “We can have popcorn and candy and I’ll even let you pick the movie. I’ll be up in an hour tops.”

“Are you really so eager to get rid of me already?”

“No, no. That’s not what I’m doing. You’ve had a long week and you’re tired and as your boyfriend, it is my job to fix that.”

“Okay, big guy, I believe you, but if you don’t get done in an hour, I’m gonna find you and hit you with a chair.”

“A chair? Why a chair?”

“Like you said, I’ve had a long week. And it’s fun to hit people with chairs.”

“I love you, but you scare me.” He pulled me in for a quick kiss.

“Love you, too, Jay.” I grinned, heading back upstairs to get the movie set up.

—————————

I was sitting on the couch of Wayne Manor, biting my nails and bouncing my knee, staring down at my phone. It had been an hour past Jason’s promised hour and I couldn’t find him anywhere. I had texted him, called him three times, and checked the Cave, but he was nowhere to be found. It was really unlike him to disappear without saying anything to me.

While I was still waiting for a response, I flipped through the channels on TV to try to take my mind off things. I’ll tell you now, it did not work. I flipped past the news quickly, but something caught my eye. I flipped back. What I saw made my heart skip.

The headline read, “Robin Found Dead”.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” I whispered to myself. I frantically dialed his number as I ran to the grandfather clock, not even bothering to read the rest of the TV. “Come on, Jay, pick up,” I mumbled as I opened the passage. Down the steps I went, but froze when I heard the ringing of a phone. I started to move again, only this time slower as I approached the table.

I picked up Jason’s phone delicately, declined my call, and set it back down, trying to catch my breath in the process. I leaned on the table to stabilize myself. This could not be happening. He was here only two hours ago, perfectly fine. It was impossible.

I looked down at the computer screen and went into shock. There were files pulled up on the Joker and Amusement Mile. Everything shut off. I completely stopped working. I didn’t even feel myself hit the floor. I felt like crying but nothing came. It seemed like someone had reached inside my chest and ripped out my heart.

He had gone after the Joker and gotten himself killed. How had I not seen it? He was trying to get me to leave so he could finish finding the monster. If I had just pressed him for what he was hiding, I could’ve stopped him. If I hadn’t been lazy, he wouldn’t be dead. I didn’t get to cry or mope, I had to go do something.

Taking a deep breath in, I pulled myself up using the table and settled into the chair. I got onto the computer and looked up the exact details of how Jason was found and when. That led into a search about Amusement Mile, where I found security footage. I clicked on it.

The footage played, showing Jason walking into the park, only to get startled by an animatronic clown in one of the ticket stands. That’s where the Joker got his jump on Jason by hitting him with a crowbar. I shuttered and closed my eyes. I went to open them again, only to see something that would haunt me forever. Jason getting repeatedly hit with the crowbar. I hurriedly clicked out of it, trying my best not to actually look at the screen.

I pulled at my hair and set my head down on the table. How could this happen? How could’ve I let this happen? This was on me. The Joker killed him. The Joker did it. He took Jason away from you, a voice in my head whispered maliciously. I looked up, glaring at the screen where a clown smiled tauntingly back at me. The Joker was to blame for this, too. Going back to Arkham was barely a punishment. He was gonna feel the same pain Jason felt.

But it would have to wait until tomorrow morning’s visiting hours.

—————————

I pulled into Arkham’s parking lot and stepped out of my car, intent on my mission. I marched into the lobby of the asylum and right up to the front desk.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman at the front desk asked boredly without looking up.

“No, but I have a feeling you’ll let me in,” I said sweetly.

“Why’s that?” she sighed, finally looking at me.

“Elana Queen, Queen Consolidated. I need to speak with the Joker,” I told her, whipping out my badge. She dropped her pen.

“The Joker? Why would you want to speak to him?”

“He messed with a Queen Consolidated employee last night. That employee was working on a secret project for the company and it was quite a coincidence that the Joker would attack him. I’m here to make sure it’s merely that,” I lied.

“Well, sweetie, I’ll get someone for you right away.” I thanked her and took a seat in the waiting chairs. Only three minutes later, a man in a lab coat came up to me.

“You must be Ms. Queen,” he greeted.

“That would be me, yes.” I stood up.

“You can follow me so we can get you set up with the… Joker,” he hesitated at the end. He led the way down the hall. “If you don’t mind me asking, why would they send you specifically to talk to this madman?”

“I am the CEO of the company, and just because I’m young doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself. And I went to school for psychology for a little while,” I answered.

“Very well. Right this way.” He gestured me into a room. “We’re bringing up the patient, but before you can go in, we need to check you for any suspicious material. Please don’t be offended, this is mandatory.”

“It’s fine,” I assured him. Another man, who was already in the room, quickly patted me down, finding nothing. He grabbed one of those handheld metal detectors and began waving it over me. It beeped when it got to my head. “I’m sorry, that’s just my earrings. Do I need to take them out?” I asked.

“No, you’re fine.” The man shook his head. “You’re good to go.”

“Thank you,” I said. He nodded and walked out of the room.

“The patient is ready for you, but I must warn you; he’s very dangerous just with his words. He knows how to pick a person apart,” the man in the lab coat warned me.

“I’m aware. I believe I can handle myself, thank you.”

“Very well, Ms. Queen. We will be watching from a camera just as a precaution.” I nodded before he pointed to the door across the room. “Through there will be a table. There’s a chair for you on one side and he’ll be on the other. Good luck.” I headed off to the door, took a deep breath, and walked in.

“Well, well, well. Who might you be?” I internally cringed at the sickening voice. I messed with my earring, which wasn’t an earring at all. It was a small device that allowed me to tap into the cameras and control them. Right now, I had it playing a fabricated video of mine and the Joker’s conversation.

“My name’s Elana Queen and I have an issue to settle with you.” I sat down.

“So do many people, girly. What makes you so special?” he cackled.

“Because unlike most of those people, I have ways of getting what I want.” I folded my hands, staring challengingly into his maniac eyes.

“You’re here about the boy wonder, aren’t you?” He leaned forward.

“Was that your goal when you went out last night? To kill him?”

“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.”

“Answer the question,” I said cooly. With the Joker, you had to fake being completely unfazed by him to get anywhere, which, as I was finding out, was harder than it looked.

“Lemme guess, you were his best friend. No, no, no, sister. Wait, no, I got it, his girlfriend.” He laughed crazily. “That’s hard to picture. Robin and a girlfriend.”

“Enough.” I grabbed his collar and yanked him closer. “You killed him and waited for the cops. Why?”

“I gotta remember, blondie. The old mind ain’t what it used to be.” He grinned. I slammed his head down into the table.

“I’m not here to play games, clown.”

“Did it break your heart seeing that good, old bird boy was dead?” I punched him in the face. Just then the door swung open.

“What the heck are you doing,” Dick hissed. I quickly reset the camera and stood up. Dick marched in, grabbed my arm, and pulled me out of there. After stomping past the man in the lab coat, who I muttered a thanks to, Dick dragged me outside.

“Are you insane?!” He ran a hand through his hair.

“He killed Jason!” I exclaimed.

“So what, you were gonna kill him?!” he shot back.

“I don’t know!” I shouted.

“What do you mean you “don’t know”?!”

“I saw the footage! I saw him bash my boyfriend’s skull in! Jason is dead because I couldn’t stop him from going after that man!” my voice broke.

“Elana,” Dick said softly, reaching out for me. I shoved away from him.

“He’s dead because I’m too stupid to recognize emotions! He’s dead because of me!” Tears were streaming freely down my face. Dick grabbed me and pulled me into a tight hug. “It’s all my fault,” I sobbed quietly. And for the first time since Jason’s death, I cried.

—————————

For the majority of the day after the morning incident, I trained. Hours of training without a break. Working myself so hard that I wasn’t sure if I would make it back up the stairs. This wasn’t new, I did it after my parents died, too. It was my coping mechanism. I only stopped after Dick came down to the Cave and told me Barbara was coming over. He did lecture me about not overworking myself, but I ignored half of what he said. Barbara showed up right after I had gotten cleaned up.

“So then Jason corners the Mad Hatter and starts swearing at him, like, going off. And Hatter stands there, stunned that Robin is cussing him out. And then Bruce came in.” Barbara looked at Bruce. “Do you remember what you said to Jason?”

“What?” Dick asked, amused.

“Watch your language,” Bruce answered. We all laughed together, me for the first time since the last night. I took a sip of my Capri Sun and leaned back into my chair. It felt good to be in the company of these people. They were the ones that knew me best. “I heard you found another body today,” Bruce spoke up. I groaned and laid my head back. Way to go, B, you ruined the moment. “That makes eight in as many weeks. Any clues to the identity of the killer?”

“You never stop, do you?” Barbara asked, looking down. “Can’t we just have a drink? No new clues… yet. But I’ll be sure to turn the signal on if we need you.”

“Your father and I had better communication when we were fighting this war.” Bruce took a sip of his drink. I looked across at Dick, who looked scared and annoyed like me.

“War? You still call it a war?” Barbara scoffed.

“Guys,” I groaned, but no one acknowledged me.

“It is a war. For the soul of this city.” Bruce had a point there, I’ll give him that.

“I don’t know, Bruce. Calling it a war feels like trying to justify all the lives that have been lost,” Barbara used her passive aggressive voice.

“Your father knew protecting Gotham required serious sacrifice,” Bruce argued back. I swear, he was a man-child. Dick and I looked at each other again with knowing glances.

“My father died from a heart attack after being frozen in a block of ice by a man wearing a refrigerator suit,” Barbara went off.

“Mr. Freeze,” Bruce said calmly. He was not helping himself here.

“I know who he is,” Barbara snapped. I watched Dick shift uncomfortably. “That’s how you see my father, isn’t it? As a sacrifice? You dragged him into this insanity, just like you did Dick and Jason.” I bit my lip and looked down. It was only yesterday, yet the topic still hit home.

“It was a long time ago,” Dick spoke up.

“You know what he did to you, Dick. You almost lost yourself because Bruce weaponized your grief,” she went at Bruce again. “And Jason,” she scoffed, “you took another kid who was lost, and angry, and alone, and convinced him that he’d become invincible if he put on a mask.” I didn’t say anything, but this conversation was having an effect on me that I didn’t like at all. Trying to reroute my energy, I started tapping my heel. “No more Robins, Bruce. I chose to put the cowl on. To go out there as Batgirl. When the Joker shot me,” I cringed at her words, “it wasn’t your fault. But you drove Dick away.”

“We worked it out,” Dick tried to defend Bruce.

“Wether you’ve forgiven him or not, he drove you away and put Jason in the ground.”

“Barbara!” I snapped. Dick and Bruce looked at me, but she ignored me.

“You would think that after everything that the Joker’s done to so many people, you would’ve found a way to keep him locked up. But part of me, a big part of me, believes that you want him to escape so you can keep hiding from yourself behind that mask. You’re as crazy as the Joker.” I ran a hand through my hair as Dick sighed. Barbara set her drink down and wheeled out. I let out a long exhale, thinking about her words, then got up and walked downstairs.

—————————

I was sitting in the living room of the Manor, going through old pictures of me and Jason on my phone when I heard a loud bang down the hall. Slowly, I got up and headed toward the sound. I was ready to put up a fight if I needed to, knowing Dick was asleep and Bruce was out. As I got closer to where the sound came from, I heard voices from Dick’s room.

“It’s all a game I should have stopped playing a long time ago,” I heard Bruce say somberly. “It’s over for me now. It’s over.” I stood in the hall, leaned against the wall and looked at Bruce from behind. “You see things I don’t. You saw that Jason was in trouble, that he was involved in something. Because you cared more than I did.” My interest level went up. What did Bruce mean? “The city is yours now. You save it. Do what I couldn’t. Be a better Batman.” My eyes went wide with shock. Bruce turned and walked down the hallway toward me, Dick shouting his name from the bedroom. He stopped right in front of me and put a hand on my shoulder, taking in my dumbfounded expression. “Save this city,” was all he said before walking off.

Dick jogged up to me. “He disappeared,” he sighed.

“Dick, what is happening?” I demanded.

“I… I think Bruce killed the Joker,” he ran a hand through his hair.

“What?! There’s no way.”

“He dropped a bloody crowbar in my room,” Dick pointed back. I peered over his shoulder and sure enough, there was a crowbar laying on the floor.

“I-I did not expect that,” I blinked.

“You and me both.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about me sleepwalking to Arkham and snapping the Joker’s neck,” I offered. Dick gave me a flat look. “Gotham needs Batman. What happens without him?” I asked.

“It means it’s our turn to save this city.”

[imminentinertia]

I read this post and it raises some points I quite agree with and some I don't, but I don't want to stomp into someone else's post with my Opinions. There are a couple of things I'd like to say about The Hidden Character, however, so here goes, in my own post that won't actually be read by all that many people.

BOC shouldn't have used KinnPorsche scenes

There was no way they could workshop and develop the THC participants' understanding of the roles sufficiently so they could be judged reasonably fairly. These are iconic roles and iconic scenes and the actors were brilliant in KinnPorsche, but they had much more time to settle into their characters.

Here's my idea for a finding new actors reality show, and if Pond Krisda wants to use it sometime, go right ahead. Pay me in life-size posters of Bible

Focus on the acting

Don't do elimination, it's boring and annoying

Use an original script for a character-rich short film

Have the participants audition for two or more roles each (they will of course have auditioned for the reality show, focusing on their personalities and abilities, but show us these role auditions)

Make two versions of the short film with different actors in the roles in each version and have a panel comparing them

Have fun with the reality aspect through filming auditions, workshops and rehearsals, getting to know each other more or less organically, making the films

Show the audience more of how the participants are working on acting techniques and let them talk much more about their expectations and how they think things are going

By all means throw in some games for the entertainment value

Hire whoever the fuck you want after (as BOC did, and bless them for keeping Perth Patsarut)

It could very well be a vehicle for an actor already hired, but be clear about that from the start. Ta is brilliant in DFF, but I don't know anyone who watched THC without going "wait, what, isn't this about recruiting new people" when he was thrown into the mix.

I really liked the judges talking about how they were thinking

I get that they sounded harsh to viewers, but for one thing, they did quite a bit of talking about what they focused on and what they'd like to see. Do that with an original script and it would be great, do more of it, too.

To me they didn't come across as particularly harsh about the acting, but it was a bit unfair because the poor new guys were invariably measured against the original scenes, although with some leeway. I thought the judges were often quite constructive and polite, and if one wants to make a living as an actor one will hear worse, to be honest.

That is sort of an industry problem, to the extent that it is a problem, but as an actor one will have to face criticism from directors, teachers/coaches, actual critics and the audience (not to mention asshole so-called fans). You'll have to be able to take it, and to use what's helpful (harsh or kind) and to let go of what's not helpful.

I especially enjoyed watching Apo getting all passionate because he cares deeply about good acting.

I liked that they addressed the problem with people digging up all your online history once you're famous

They made a very good point with Max having to struggle forever with his trying to act cool and normal when he was a child. Everyone famous has a horde of self-righteous and entitled armchair detectives hot on their heels now, and a lot of those asshats trying to dig up shit they can find horrible (whether it is or not) should be sat firmly down and taught that making mistakes and learning from them is basically what being human is about. One episode on a reality show isn't going to do that job, but it was great that they gave it a go. It needs to be said often and loud.