#chelsea mass

[bostonrealtors]

51 Breakwater Drive. Admiral's Hill. Live well.

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#02150 #ADMIRALS HILL REAL ESTATE #admiralshill #chelsea #chelsea admirals hill #Chelsea by the sea #chelsea mass #Chelsea massachusetts #chelsea townhomes for sale #chelsea townhouse #jeff bowen #real estate #TOWNHOME #townhouse

[chelseasdagger]

Restoring Faith

Father Paul Hill x Reader

Summary: You pay Father Paul one of your midnight visits and he finds himself struggling with his sworn devotion

Warnings: religious themes, sacrilege, smut, oral over clothes (m!receiving)

Author’s Note: This is a late birthday present for @chellestrash​ , my true love of my life, and I hope I’ve done this little idea you love justice :’) I’m absolutely positive I didn’t make it sounds as pretty as some of the other fics, but I hope it will be alright :)

Word Count: 4k

The cold air sends a shiver down your spine as the gravel crunches beneath your feet. Wrapping your arms around yourself tighter, you keep your head down to protect your face from the wind. You follow the path that connects the great big church to the smaller house just behind it, the trail only visible due to the moonlight pouring down from above.

You’re no idiot, you’re aware anybody could see your somewhat frequent visits to see him. However, you convinced yourself that it was okay to go, so long as you waited past midnight to take the trip. Whether it was actually a valid excuse was a whole other subject. One you didn’t particularly want to think of and potentially use to talk yourself out of doing this.

Stepping up the old, creaky stairs of the small porch, you give one last glance over your shoulder to the abandoned street the church faces. There’s not a person in sight and you raise your hand to knock on the wooden door.

It opens after a moment and you smile at the sight of the priest in front of you. He’s dressed completely in black, excluding the stark white collar that frames his neck. You can’t help your eyes from giving him a quick once over, taking in the dark button up shirt tucked into the form fitting slacks that drape down his legs. His voice calling your name brings your gaze back to his face.

“How…,” he trails off, craning his neck higher and looking past you, “how can I help you?” His greeting is stiff, and you know he’s worried about curious eyes possibly seeing you here. You can’t fight the way your lips pull into a smirk at the idea of him already getting nervous.

“I just had a question, Father,” you begin to explain, and notice him looking at you with cautious eyes. “Is that not what you said? That we can come to you and seek guidance? Ask questions about our faith?” You can admit that it was slightly unfair using his own words against him, but it works all the same. He bows his head before nodding once, silently stepping aside and allowing you to walk inside.

It’s the same as it always was, with the couch being the only real centerpiece to the room. The curtains are drawn closed on each of the windows and it gives the sense of seclusion from the rest of the small island. The three lamps that line the right wall are all lit, painting everything in a warm glow. You’ll never get over how welcoming his home was, how it provided a safe space when you needed an escape. 

The sound of the door clicking shut makes you turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest, slightly hesitant as he stays silent and waits for you to speak first.

“Nobody saw me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you flash him a cheeky smirk. Paul responds wordlessly with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He steps further into the room, his arm brushing yours as he walks to the small, open kitchen area. 

“I haven’t seen you at Mass,” he finally breaks his silence. You watch as he grabs an empty glass from the drying rack beside the sink before filling it with water from the tap. “Can I get you anything?” he offers with wide eyes, motioning towards the cup in his hand.

“I was sick,” you pick the first thing that comes to mind, “allergy stuff since the weather is changing.” The lie rolls right off your tongue. You watch as he drinks his water down, fixating on the way his Adam's apple moves with each swallow. Giving yourself a mental shake, you answer his earlier question.

“And I’m okay, thanks,” you decline his offer as you lean against the back of the couch. The priest says nothing but gives a solemn look your way.

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he speaks gently into the quiet room. His dark, brown eyes look sincere, enforcing the truth behind his words. There’s a small pout on his lips and you’re not sure if it’s from your faux illness or if he can somehow sense that you’re not speaking the truth. Either way, he continues with the conversation.

“But I’m glad you’re feeling better. W-What can I do for you?” He sets his glass down on the small counter beside him. “You… um, mentioned seeking guidance? What about?” His eyes are focused onto yours and you find yourself only able to keep eye contact for a few seconds before his stare feels like too much. 

“Well,” you begin with a light laugh under your breath, “I just wanted to have you read to me again.” Your fingers toy with the thick seam of the couch cushion. “Is that okay? It just—it helps, is all.” You’re not certain the explanation makes a ton of sense, but there is truth behind it. His words help; it relaxes you to come and listen to him read, even if you don’t always find yourself secure in the faith you grew up with.

When you look up at him again, Paul is standing with a genuine smile on his face. It’s clear he likes hearing that he can help, and you feel a twinge of guilt shoot through your chest at how he genuinely enjoys what he does. It makes you being here that much worse, knowing how content and devout he is.

“Of course, I-I can do that,” he replies, his voice somehow even quieter than before. “Did you have a certain story you wanted me to read from?”

You think over his question for only a short moment. Deep down, you knew you could listen to him speak about even the most mundane things, including what he had eaten for breakfast. His voice was the thing to calm you, not the words he spoke.

“I don’t really care. Whatever you’d like, whatever we left off with,” you flash him a small smile. The priest nods only once before walking towards his bedroom, disappearing into the shadows of the small corridor leading to the door.

You let out a big breath of air you weren’t even aware you were holding in. Being alone with him felt good, it always did, but you couldn’t deny the guilt once again growing in your chest. Deep down, you knew this was wrong, but it always felt good when the guilt shaped to something else. Something stronger and impossibly difficult to ignore.

There’s only a small moment for self reflection before you hear his footsteps echoing out on the wood floor again. You glance towards the sound and find him returning back into the main room with the Bible wedged between his arm and his side. His fingers are busy, rolling the fabric of his long sleeve up to just above his elbow. As inch after inch of his skin is exposed, you find yourself unable to look away from the veins trailing up the inside of his arm.

He repeats his actions on the opposite side, gazing up at you from under the few strands of hair that have fallen out of place. Your lip finds its way between your teeth subconsciously, your own way of anchoring yourself and ignoring the need to tuck the loose curls back behind his ear.

“In moments where I truly begin to doubt my faith, I…” he trails off, fixing the last roll of his cuff over his forearm. He grabs the Bible and brushes his thumb over the raised letters as he continues, “I like to look back on the story of Job.”

You can’t even stop the exasperated sigh that leaves your body. He looks up at the sound, his head tilted slightly like a confused puppy.

“Job? Really, Father? I’m pretty sure that’s the opposite of restoring faith,” you curl your fingers to create air quotes over the last two words. Paul gives a small smile, lowering his head. He’s dealt with your opinions regarding faith and why God allows things to happen as He does.

“Maybe… maybe to some but I-I find that it’s a reminder,” his voice is quiet and calm, already slipping into his usual pattern of speech when he’s behind the lectern. He steps deeper into the living room and passes by you, making his way to the empty couch.

“A reminder to trust in Him even when we’re not sure of-of the path,” he finishes. You’re thankful he’s behind your back so he doesn’t see the way your eyes roll at his canned response. He must’ve seen the tension in your body though, taking note of the way your arms are still crossed over your chest, because he tries once more to get you to listen.

“You do remember that he was rewarded? In the end?”

“Yeah, but he went through hell to get it… hardly seems fair,” you answer him.

“Well, the Lord, He—,”

“If you say ‘Works in mysterious ways’…” you cut him off with a warning glare as you finally turn to face him.

Paul lets out a breathy laugh, staring down at the thick book in his hands. “I was only going to say that He doesn’t always…” he pauses for a moment, searching for the right words, “reveal His plans to us in a way that makes sense at the time. That’s all,” he finishes with a tight-lipped smile.

There’s a brief moment of silence that hangs in the air as you wait for him to move past this conversation. His quick inhale fills the room as he clears his throat quietly, his arm gesturing towards the couch.

“Shall we?”

“Of course,” you respond softly, your words tucked under your breath. He walks around to the front of the couch, his eyes fixed on you as you follow his path. He sits down as his fingers curl around the blue, knitted blanket that’s sprawled out across the cushion beside him.

“Here, let me—,” he doesn’t finish his sentence before draping it across the back of the couch. There’s a spot for you now, close enough that you knew you’d be touching him if you sat beside him. As tempting as the offer is, you find yourself shaking your head gently.

“Is-is something wrong?” he asks, his big, dark eyes searching yours. They’re wide and innocent, truly worrying that he overstepped. Once again, you’re reminded of how pure the man before you is; you nearly reconsider your original idea that made you seek him out tonight in the first place.

You shake your head as you stand in front of him, silently kneeling down and sitting on the floor. The priest’s expression instantly grows apprehensive. You flash him an innocent smile but his unsure glare never falters.

“I’ll just listen from here,” you tell him, trying to ease his worries. He looks hesitant but eventually swallows before opening the Bible. His long fingers splay out across the thin pages, turning them one after the other before finally stopping on a page.

He opens his mouth to speak, the words flowing effortlessly off of his tongue. His voice falls into the deep, rumbly tone that you only ever hear when he’s reading to you. There’s no audience, no image he has to maintain, and the words are so quiet it seems almost as if he’s reading to himself. You’ve always preferred these moments, when he appeared the most authentic he could be.

The more he reads the more comfortable you feel. Your body begins to relax and an idea strikes up in your mind. As he turns the next page, bringing in a deep inhale to continue the sentence, you let your head rest against his knee.

He immediately stutters over his words, repeating the same sound over and over. He never breaks his concentration though, and eventually pushes through and finishes the sentence. Not before flashing you a warning look as you rest your cheek against his leg, though.

It isn’t entirely inappropriate and would even be seen as a normal, platonic gesture. But given his profession, you knew it was absolutely not appropriate. You don’t pull away however, just keep your body slumped against his leg.

He continues speaking the old words, his pronounced sentences dissipating into muttered whispers the longer he goes on. Admittedly, you felt special that this tone was reserved only for you; there was a faint flare of pride in your chest knowing that you were the only one to hear his words so rumbly it’s as if they never fully left his chest.

At some point though, you begin to grow bored of just sitting there and waiting for him to finish. Usually these late night reads brought your anxiety down enough just to fall asleep on the priest, leaving him in the most awkward position of not knowing how to convince himself any of this was okay. But right now, you’d rather have some fun.

Paul knew something was up the second he saw your hand reaching towards him out of the corner of his eye. The muscles in his leg immediately tense, you feel it from under your skin. But you don’t want to raise his suspicion so soon.

Stretching further towards the Bible in his lap, you spread your fingers and place both palms over each side. Once his view is completely shielded from the printed words, he immediately looks into your mischievous eyes.

“What—what are you doing?” he asks confusedly. His eyebrows are pulled together as he awaits your answer.

“Just wanted to see how much you knew,” you reply genuinely. You knew the man had poured over this book time and time again, searching for meanings deeper than the blatant lessons that were spelled out for the reader. It always sent a conflicting feeling coursing through you, the way he could recite word after word from memory as if he was the one who had conjured them up. Conflicting because you liked the reminder of how devout he was, and isn’t that just a multifaceted guilt trip.

Paul smiles at your youthful game, and mentally accepts the challenge. He parts his lips before the words fall from his tongue.

“And when the days of the feast had run their course, Job would send and sanctify them, and he would rise early in the morning and offer burnt offerings according to the number of them all,” he begins, never looking away from your face as he repeats them with no hesitation.

“For Job said, ‘It may be that my sons have sinned, and cursed God in their hearts.’” The priest can’t stop from chuckling at the end of his sentence, having looked at your own genuine, bright grin. “Thus Job did continually.”

Once he’s finished, he flashes you his own smile before glancing down at your hands covering the pages still. You slowly remove them, giggling under your breath at how he passed your unofficial test.

The priest licks his lips once before clearing his throat gently, continuing again with his reading. As the minutes pass, you find yourself not paying much attention to the actual weight of the words. You just focus on his muttering voice until you're reminded of how sweet his last stutter sounded. And because you just can’t help yourself, you’re determined to hear it again.

Snaking your hand up his thigh, you feel his body grow stiff all over again. That adorable stutter becomes prominent once more, his eyes quickly focusing on your fingers rubbing up the inside of his leg as he attempts to finish the paragraph. Trying to pace your plan, you curl your fingers around his thigh and give him a moment to get used to the feeling.

“What are you doing?” These words are the coldest he’s spoken all night, yet you stay silent and wait. It takes him longer this time to finally react, to give his consent in the smallest agreement possible. It’s so minuscule that anybody else wouldn’t have noticed, but you know him awfully more than you should.

Half a nod. That’s all it takes, and you let your fingers graze lightly over the black slacks. They're taught from how he’s sitting, and you can see the outline of his thigh through the stretched material. His voice shakes now, the tone less steady and sure, as he forces himself to keep reading.

You’ve got to admit he’s doing better than you thought. He doesn’t stop reading, you assume he’s just trying to focus on something else, anything but your hand moving between his thighs. You must’ve hit a sweet spot though, inching near the little alcove where his thigh meets his hip, because the next thing you hear is a shuddering exhale as he halts his reading. 

And there it is only a second later—the outline of his cock showing through the dark dress pants. It never took very long, although this time it seems even quicker than usual. He continues to grow there, until you can see the fabric straining to accommodate for his now swollen head. You’ve barely touched him and he’s already so responsive.

Now that you can physically see the effect you have on him, there’s truly nothing that can stop you. Sure the nagging guilt is still in the back of your mind, telling you that you shouldn’t do this, but you push it away as much as you can. He looks so tempting right now: the loose strands of hair falling into his face, his lip caught between his teeth as he suppresses his groans, the faint twitch his cock gives when he feels your finger lightly drag along the base of his length. You love seeing him this desperate for you.

Your one finger lightly tracing the length of him is truly all it takes for the first twitch to happen in his trousers. The sight makes your mouth nearly water and you finally curl your fingers around him properly. Your grip isn’t too tight considering it’s over two layers of clothes, but it doesn’t stop the choked grunt from finally escaping his lips.

Still you continue, leaning closer until your breath is fanning over the bulge. He feels it, you can tell from the way his fingers clutch the book that’s resting on his other leg. The veins in the back of his hand become more prominent the harder he grabs it. Every part of his body is conflicting itself; he wants it but he knows he shouldn’t.

Still you wait, staring up at him and silently asking again if this is okay. He doesn’t stall as much this time—his eyes squeeze shut tightly before nodding quickly again, forcing another inhale through his nose.

You don’t waste a second and quickly press your tongue flat against the outline of his tip. Slowly licking along the length, you watch his body reel from how hard his stomach clenches at the feeling. He begins to shut the Bible but you grab his wrist before it can close all the way. You shake your head slowly, attempting to convince him to keep it open.

“Y…You know I can’t.”

“I like hearing you, Father,” you mumble quietly in the room. He stares down at you with an expression you can’t quite describe. There’s no emotion on his face, but his eyes look pained, no doubt from the name you referred to him as. He hardly moves except for the shallow breaths that you can only notice because of how close you are to him.

Waiting for his reaction seems to drag on for hours before he finally sighs through his nose and opens the book. You notice the way his fingers shake as he smooths out the page before trying to remember where he left off. Your lips pull into a smile as you hear his strained voice fill the room.

Squeezing the base of his cock tighter, you drag your tongue across his tip again before wrapping your lips around it. The story is cut off with his deep grunt, and you hum around him at the pleasant noise. The priest has his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling as he tries to regain his composure.

You knew this was an awful, sacrilegious act you two were doing, but it doesn’t stop the heat growing between your legs. Leaning closer into him, you work your mouth on him faster, sucking harder through the fabric. His hand closest to you grips the edge of the seat as he seethes through his teeth.

Paul finally looks down at you, staring into your eyes that have never once left his face. You hold his gaze before glancing wordlessly to the book still in his hand. The whimper that he barely slips out is your new favorite sound, replaying it in your head as you shut your eyes.

“A-As long as… m…my breath,” he’s cut off with a shaky inhale. He tries to read aloud, but his voice trembles the entire time.

“Keep going, Father,” you pull your mouth away from the outline in his black trousers to encourage him. There’s a long, dark stripe along the fabric from your tongue, but another wet patch where the head of his cock is straining against the material.

“As long as my-my breath is in me, and t-the spirit of God is in my nostrils—,” he’s finding each word more impossible to speak. You never allow him to give up though, rubbing your hand over his thigh to support him.

“My lips will not speak f…falsehood, and my tongue will not utter deceit.” He manages to finish the paragraph before taking deep breaths, swallowing thickly and trying his damndest to not look at the sinful scene in his lap. But his body betrays him once more, twitching into your mouth when you hum sweetly around him as a reward for finishing what you asked him to.

Pressing your tongue right in the ridge under his swollen head, you hear a new sound escape his pressed lips. It's a guttural, raw twist of your name and it’s unexpected.

“Oh… Oh—Wait,” he tries to warn you but it’s much too late. His release happens without him realizing, his body moving while his mind doesn’t have a chance to catch up. When you feel him pulsing in your mouth you glance up at him and oh, what a sight it is.

He’s completely disheveled, biting down into his hand to muffle the noise he’s ashamed for anyone to hear, and the veins in his neck are protruding just above the edge of his collar. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him like this, but you always make sure to memorize the sight down to those details. To always keep the picture in your mind.

What really catches your attention though, is the stream of white bubbling up through the taught fabric around his sensitive tip. You didn’t realize he would have finished quite this fast, but you definitely don’t mind it. Squeezing the middle of his length tightly, you slowly slide your hand up, determined to get all of it out of him.

Paul’s thighs are beginning to shake from the sensation and you can only imagine how good it must feel for him. You stick your tongue out as you lap up the mess he’s made, and his thighs jolt to close around your body. His sensitivity to your every touch leaves a desire that burns hotly in the bottom of your stomach. You love the feeling of having power over him, admittedly too much.

Once he’s clean, you finally let go of him altogether and sit back on your legs. He’s left panting in awe as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You wish you could see inside his head, try and understand what he’s thinking. But right now his dark eyes are glossed over and he looks as if he’s somewhere completely else.

“Thank you, Father.”

He scrunches his eyes shut tightly the second the words fill the air. It’s silent except for his panting as you rest your head on his knee once more. This time it is a platonic action, your way of showing him you’re there without words. And there you sit beside your priest in the small, old house behind the great big church, with the weight of everything that just happened.

#father paul x reader #father paul fanfic #paul hill x reader #midnight mass fanfiction #midnight mass fanfic #hamish linklater fanfiction #hierophilia #as someone who grew up christian i did feel a lil guilty writing this #HOWEVER #he cute. #chelsea writes #happy birthday pea!

[ivee-draws]

finished andromeda, doodled my ryder 🥺🫶

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #pathfinder ryder #my art #chelsea ryder #my soft space punk!!

[pixalry]

Midnight Mass - Created by Chelsea Lowe

You can follow this artist on Instagram and Twitter.

#midnight mass #chelsea lowe #poster #design #horror #hamish linklater

[filipchytil]

Pulisic not going over and thanking the very fans that abuse him and his dad day in and day out has fans up in arms..............

Like maybe, just maybe use your brain as to why he doesn’t want to clap to a bunch of fans that call him a ‘shirts sale player’ or a ‘stupid yank’.

#christian pulisic #chelsea fc #a mass extinction event of CFC fans need to take place

[muncedes]

.

#i talk my shit and it’s obviously been more anger and petty driven lately but #i’ve always been really vocal about mason leaving chelsea and the desire for him to stay #it feels like he just gave up and lowering his own value was a shock to the system that he didn’t care to try and work it out and stay #it’s sad it’s fucked up it’s weird to see him leave and tbh no goodbye post is gonna settle the masses of disappointed or angry ppl #i don’t want to see him at united it’s weird it’s different and not at all where i want him to be but #life moves on #chelsea you now have no choice but to win it all this coming season bc this club feels like a stranger right now

[ac3may]

" the wag diaries "

How You Met

~ Leah Williamson ~

~~~~~~~~~~

if being called up to play in England’s 2022 Euros wasn’t rewarding enough

it was also what led you to meet Leah

outside of a rival environment at least

despite playing in the WSL from 16-yrs-old and junior England squads from even younger, the nerves for your first senior call-up were real

having your older sister, Millie, and her vast experience, accompanying you should have been comforting

but the moment she teased you over your stuttered introduction to the skipper you were questioning whether that was true

you’d known each other less than a day before Leah was helping you through a panic attack

and another 48 hours later and you were pulling her out of her own stress spiral 

a moment that happened to lead to a movie playing on her laptop and her head on your chest as she napped

but you accepted that a crush on the England captain was probably not a recommended thing to act on

unfortunately Rachel and Millie (aka your honorary pains in the ass) wouldn’t let it go quite so swiftly

with their encouragement, you found yourself in for some harsh rejection

Leah didn’t feel mid-competition was the right time to begin a relationship 

particularly not with a fellow teammate

despite it being expected, it hurt

as quiet as you tried to keep it the news spread

your camp mums (Lucy, Mary & Jill) finding out particularly fast

the mother hen in them all jumped out, leading Leah to receiving a stern talking to

and maybe some threats

hearing the message loud and clear Leah spent days asking to speak to you

not intending to hurt you, she had just done what she thought was best for both of you

after some incredible, slightly mortifying, begging you finally let her explain

in doing so you realised just how much you’d missed her

enjoying falling into the routine of laughing with and teasing the older blonde

but when Leah let it slip she did feel the same, you have to make a bet

“Oh, so you do like me back, Miss Williamson? Hmmm. That’s not what you said before”

*splutters in response at the cockiness*

“Well in that case how about we make a deal? If we win the Euros you have to take me out. And then we can reconsider this whole girlfriend thing?”

Leah had never found herself so speechless

she was usually the one making bold claims not the other way around 

she liked it

she had to agree

and low and behold you won the euros 

unfortunately the mass introduction of media to both of you following the Euro’s was not healthy for your relationship 

nor was the league rivalry of Arsenal vs. Chelsea when you were both as passionate for your teams as you were

you didn’t even make it to Christmas

but of course that wasn’t the end of your story

as passionate as you were about football you were about each other too

it came down to figuring out a balance 

the realisation came first to Leah when she got injured and the one thing she longed for more than anything was to have you at her side

two weeks later you were playing your dream match-up

a Champions League semi-final, away at Camp Nou

what wasn’t a part of the dream was the part where your sister limped off the pitch, an injury in her knee

and even less dreamlike was the moment where you got barged roughly, mid-save

the shove causing you to land uncomfortably on your shoulder, excruciating pain immediately shooting through your body 

after being rushed to the hospital, you’re told later that evening you had severely torn your rotator cuff

worse than that, you were out of the Champions League

you were out of the game for at least six months according to the doctors

joining the ranks of the England injury gang you spent even more time with Millie

who had happened to be spending a lot more time with Beth Mead

who was of course spending time recovering with Leah

Millie knowing she was likely to be back in time for the World Cup forced you into outings with the Arsenal players

she thought it’d help you process your injury and loss

it only made you hurt more, seeing how distraught Leah was 

and not being able to help

you had more time for these big competitions

even the last one still felt like a fluke to you!

slowly though you returned to the roots of your friendship with Leah

supporting each other when you needed it most

taking it slow this time you worked to build a healthier relationship

you developed good communication and set plans in place for when you were stressed

or competing against each other 

~~~~~~~~~~

If any of you have ever read my Wattled story Amorousness about Leah, this is essentially an amalgamation of all the ideas I had for that. So spoiler alert ig?? But also I don't know if I'll ever finish the full fic so I'm glad it'll exist somewhere!

#wag diaries #ace writes stuff #lionesses #woso x reader #woso blurb #leah williamson x reader #leah Williamson blurb #arsenal women

[delta-pavonis]

'allo! may i have a bit of Friend Like Me? ;)

Absolutely! I have posted some of this before, but once again Tumblr's search function is failing me and apparently I can't organize my own tags for shit so... This is Matthew + Hob used to be partners in crime (literally) and Hob may or may not have started the crew from Leverage. 😂

100% G-rated fluff over here.

Hob has to do this every few decades otherwise he would be up to his eyeballs in storage units. It isn't fun, but neither is having too many moving parts to keep track of and potentially getting caught by another asshat with a hard-on for immortality. 

What was that quote he had read? "No matter how subtle the wizard, a knife between the shoulder blades will seriously cramp his style." 

Not to mention the myriad other enemies he had accumulated via his network of grifters, hitters, and hackers. 

(What? The current state of technological advancements meant that Hob needed to get better at tracking and erasing his digital presence back in the late nineties. Was it his fault that while he was living in the States he had accidentally amassed a highly skilled group of "criminals" who were all connected to him like spokes to the hub on a carriage wheel? And that it turned out that they were, as a team, really great at liberating funds and removing items from billionaire idiots who didn't need a fraction of their accumulated wealth and power? That they did it so well that Hob had to fake his own death earlier than expected to get out from under a particularly angry arms dealer? Was that really all because of him?)

(Yes. Yes it was.)

Yeah, anyway, Hob didn't leave the house without at least one blade on his person anymore. 

This is why, when Hob is interrupted by a large black mass swerving into his storage unit through the crack in the door that should be far too small to admit such a creature, he pulls the nearest throwing knife (he was crouching, so he went for the one concealed in a sheath on the outside ankle of his black leather chelseas), clocks the intruder's movement in his peripheral vision, and wings it directly at them. It hits the wall with a satisfying kthud, which is promptly followed by a very avian squawking.

"FUCKING CAWCHRIST MY DUDE WAS THAT A KNIFE!?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS, THE IDES OF FUCKING MARCH?!"

That voice! Hob's head snaps up to see a sizable black bird falling in a tumble. It hits the concrete floor with a sound not unlike a briefcase hitting pavement from a story up (what? It is a very distinctive sound), leaving three large feathers tacked into the wall by the knife.

"Fuck me sideways that HURTS. Note to self, birds no likey losing butt feathers." The bird (A raven? Like this is the bloody Tower of London?) walks out from around a cardboard box with a bit of a waddle in its step, trying to look back at his tail while he moves. "I guess the Boss didn't tell you I was coming then?"

Hob sits back on his heels. That voice is still hauntingly familiar. But he would damned well remember meeting a talking bird. "Well, perhaps if you told me who your Boss is..."

The raven leaps a solid four feet into the air with a screech. He lands on top of a small writing desk, scrabbles against the smooth surface to balance himself, and then looks down at Hob with one glass-black eye. "I can't believe... no fucking way... Robbie? Is that you? Didn't you die in 2017?"

"Mattie?!" Hob's ass hits the cool floor as he is blown back by the revelation. "Didn't you die in 2020?"

Matthew Cable had been one of Hob's favorite grifters. Not because he was absolutely perfect at his job (oh no, Mattie had fucked up spectacularly more times then Hob’s blood pressure wants to recall), but because they had quickly become "let's get absolutely toasted and MST3K bad horror movies while we bitch about our love lives" buddies. Hob had missed Mattie immediately upon his own faked death and had mourned when he heard, through various channels he still kept an ear to, that Mattie had died in his sleep not too long ago.

"Yeah, but when I died I was given, like, a choice? Apparently the King of Dreams needed a new Raven and I decided to give it a go. Sounded much more interesting to work for him than actual death. There must be some mistake because I was sent here with a message for Hhh..." Mattie freezes.

"Dream sent you?" Hob tilts his head in interest. This was the Matthew he had often mentioned? A raven that carried his messages? Hob had been jealous over a bird?! (Oh Christ, how embarrassing.)

"Wait... what the fuck are you doing in Hob GaaaaAAHHHH!" Mattie the Raven starts hopping around frantically. "YOU ARE NOT JUST IN HOB GADLING'S STORAGE UNIT. YOU ARE HOB GADLING! FRIEND OF THE LORD MORPHEUS, KING OF DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES!"

Hob can't help his laughter. "Oh, he told you I was his friend, did he?" That Dream had called him friend to someone else shouldn't feel as good as it did. Hob tamps that useless bit of emotion down hard. (No good can come of that, better to put it away.) "Only took him six centuries to get there, stubborn wanker that he is." He fails to keep the fondness from his voice. 

"Christ you have no idea how much of a wanker sometimes..." Mattie shuffles his feathers. "Look, I gotta know the story here, man. How did you meet the King of Dreams?"

Hob stands, brushing off his jeans. "That... is a rather long story." He considers for a minute, barely that, rubbing at the back of his neck, before coming to a decision. "Look, it isn't like I get my close friends back from the dead every day... how about we head back to my flat, pull up something ridiculous like Slenderman, and I will fill you in on my story? Like old times?"

Mattie flaps over and lands on Hob's shoulder. "Hells to the yes. Especially if we can find out if ravens respond to THC. Shit, you ever get more of that Amnesia shit the team picked up in Amsterdam during that art heist job?"

Hob's belly laugh echoes in the small room. "I think I still have some squirreled away from my last trip to the continent." 

He locks the storage unit behind them. All the spring cleaning can happen another day. 

___________________________________

They did not, upon making it back to Hob’s flat above The New Inn, actually end up watching their intended horror movie. Instead, as they were flipping through options, they stumbled upon the live-action remake of Aladdin and Mattie had been so damned adamant that he wanted to see it while high that Hob had allowed the deviation from their established pattern. 

“That bird is a fucking useless sidekick. I will show you how to do it!” Matthew stands, wobbles, and falls off where he had been balanced on the arm of Hob’s couch.

Hob cackles, slouching back into the cushions. “Well, that’s your answer to the question about birds and THC, innit?” 

Matthew flapped his way up onto the space next to Hob. “Hey, I am still getting used to this stupid body without any fucking thumbs.” 

“Fair enough.” He shrugs, sinking even further back and letting the movie drift into the background, a gentle blanket of familiar songs. “So I can feel you trying to not ask questions. Ask away, Mattie. I owe you that much, at least.”

“Fucking right you do, faking your death like that caw.” The raven shakes his head. “Where even to start… Oh! I got it! When and how did you meet the King of Dreams and Nightmares? That must have been a trip and a half.”

The memory makes Hob even warmer and he feels himself grinning as he looks at the ceiling. “I was drinking with my pals at a tavern, the White Horse, in the year of our lord thirteen hundred and eighty nine…”

“Wait. The fuck? You are…” Mattie clearly stops to count for a blink, “almost seven hundred years old?”

“That I am, now let me finish… I rather loudly proclaimed that I had decided not to die. Just wasn’t going to fucking do it. And that was when he approached the table,” Hob closes his eyes, the swooping feeling of seeing Dream for the first time still razor sharp in his memory. Should he tell Mattie? Well, he had never been dishonest with the man before, no reason to start now. So Hob let all his emotional walls down. “And I swear to God, Mattie, it was like seeing a meteor shower for the first time. It was like discovering a second moon. I was absolutely dumbstruck by the beauty of this cocky young Lordling, all standing before me like he owned half the country. Looked it too, with that giant fucking ruby around his neck and his fine clothing.” Hob shakes his head, grin widening. “He offered me a deal. If I wanted unending life, then I could come back to that tavern on the same day at the same time one hundred years hence and tell him of my experiences of life so long-lasting. And here I am.” When Mattie doesn't immediately respond, Hob opens his eyes and turns his head. “What?”

The raven was studying him intently. When he spoke it was carefully metered and very much not in jest. “Robbie. I might be a bird now, but I would know that expression on your face anywhere. Do you… Are you…”

He didn’t need to put words to it, Hob knew exactly what his friend meant. He shrugged. “Aye, I probably am. But you have to understand, Mattie, he has been the only constant in my whole long life. Hundreds of relationships. Thousands of friendships. Centuries of life. And he was my only anchor.” Hob lets himself drift on that thought for a moment before coming back. “Did you know that I didn’t know his name until a few months ago when he showed up at the New Inn?”

“What?! What kind of asshole doesn’t give his – oh, wait, this is Dream I am talking about, isn’t it…”

Hob laughs. “You are very correct. Dream’s stubbornness is only surpassed by his beauty.”

“Wow. You’ve got it bad.”

“Most likely.” Hob inclines his head. “But I am happy with whatever type of relationship he is capable of with me."

The raven whistles. "Got it baaaad."

____________________________

And so it happens that Hob and Mattie are stonedly bickering over if Will Smith’s portrayal of the Genie was a good homage or a bad mockery (all while A Whole New World starts up in the background) when the King of Dreams and Nightmares steps out of nothingness and into Hob’s living room.

“Matthew! You were told to deliver a message, not spend an entire day-”

Hob cuts Dream off with an overdramatic, “OoooOOOOoooh, Mattie, you are in trooooouble.” Dream’s stern face snaps to Hob’s and he slaps a hand over his mouth while he giggles none-too-loudly, “OooooOOOh, now I am in trooooouble.”

That makes Mattie burst into giggles and let it be known that the giggle of a raven is not actually a pleasant sound to take in.

So it makes Hob laugh harder.

Then he sees Dream’s absolutely bewildered expression.

And that makes Hob laugh even harder.

Sobbing as he laughs, collapsed to the floor (having initially fallen clear off the couch in surprise at Dream’s entrance), clutching his belly, Hob can’t even bring himself to worry that Dream might actually be angry with him. Fuck, Hob just got Mattie back. This is fucking great.

Hob wipes at his face as his hysterics subside, trying to keep his voice steady as he addresses Dream from his place on the floor. “I’m sorry, m’love, I didn’t mean to patronize you, I just-” He cuts himself off when he sees, for the first time, a petal-pink blush color his Stranger’s cheeks.

“You called him your love!” Mattie cackles. Hob feels himself blush now, too. That was a slip. That shouldn’t have happened. (Ah, bollocks.) “You are so in for it now. The Boss hates pet names! Once I tried to call him Lord Mew-mew because he was acting like a wet fucking cat and-”

“Enough.” Dream waves his hand to his Raven and the bird is immediately silenced. “Matthew, leave us. I am not asking.”

“Aww, maannn.” Mattie shakes himself off and seems to become shockingly sober with just a ruffle of feathers. “Roger that, Boss. See you back at home.” Then he nods to Hob. “We should do this again sometime.” 

Before Hob can respond Mattie has taken wing and flown out a window that definitely was not open a moment ago. When he looks back up it is to have Dream’s hand in front of his face, gently offering to help him stand. Hob takes it, if only for the excuse to touch his Stranger’s skin for the first time. (His touch is cool, his fingers long and uncalloused, his skin smooth. Hob memorizes every sensation greedily.)

Dream seems to realize this once Hob is on his feet because the blush deepens slightly and he retracts his hand with a jerky motion. 

“I am sorry if I offended you, Dream.” Hob takes a step to the side and tries to catch his friend’s eye. Dream keeps purposefully looking away. “It is just a silly human endearment. I am rather high on some excellent weed and I didn’t mean-”

“Ah.” Dream interrupts and Hob’s jaw clicks shut. Dream is still not looking at him and so Hob can see the way the muscles in his jaw flex with tension. “Just a silly endearment. You did not mean it.” 

Something fiery swoops inside Hob. Dream has never acted like this. Never avoided Hob’s eyes. Never interrupted him. And all because Hob had accidentally called him love.

See, thing is, Hob does mean it. More than he has words for. But never did he think… Dream couldn’t possibly. Fuck. Hob is too high to think clearly about this.

Hob steps into Dream’s line of sight, forces the slightly taller anthropomorphic personification to meet his eyes. Why it comes out a whisper when Hob speaks he will never know. “Dream. Do you want me to mean it? Do you want me to call you,” he hesitates for a moment because this could ruin everything. (But look at him! Look at the hurt in his expression, the tension in his shoulders. He does not hide it well, now that Hob knows what to look for - thanks, Sophie.) “my love?”

It is answer enough to see Dream’s pupils dilate and his nostrils flare. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. 

He is shaking when he goes to take Dream’s hand, brings it up to press a kiss to those beautiful fingers. “If I am reading this wrong then please please let’s just chalk it up to the THC and pretend this never happened. But…” Hob takes the last step in and now they are almost chest-to-chest, “I thought you would have figured it out after 1689… you are my guiding star. It is you who I wait decades for. You who I hope to impress with my experiences. You who I have yearned to touch with every fiber of my being for literal centuries.” Dream is blinking wide eyes at him now, confusion and surprise and hope all written there. “And if your friendship is all I can have, then so be it. But, Dream. If I had three wishes I would spend them all just to be able to call you love.”

#Pavonis writes #Dreamling #Leverage AU

[j0kers-light]

Y/n being as crazy as Joker.....but can sorta hide it.

Imagine joker sitting at the table, trying to think of a way to carry out a robbery but every plan he thinks of had a fault and it's stressing him out. Without thinking y/n just blurts out a plan that is mind-blowing and perfect. She just says 'it's the voices in my head'.

However the plan goes left because some goon did something stupid. Joker gets caught by the batman and is sitting at the back of the police car in hand cuffs being sent to the asylum. When the police officer talks to him, he recognises the voice and the eyes from the rearview mirror and its his bunny blended in as a cop. Recklessly driving away and ending up in a car chase with many police cars and even a helicopter on their tail.

His Lighthouse: Paint the Town Red (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Paint the Town Red - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

OOOOOOOOOOh my GOSH! Thank you to the moon and back @chelsea-xxx2003 for your patience! This request was a long time coming but I love love love loved writing it! This request is so old it makes me wanna hide in the box of shame!

But anyhoo!!! I hope you enjoy my love! Thank you once again for your patience (omg😭 please don't hate me!!) and if its not to your tastes, let me know! I can try again!🖤✨

Of course the song that inspired the plot 🤭

taglist:

@blackreaderatrisk @twinkledinkle @clemdango04 @l3ejm @tears-of-amber @what-an-angel @darthjokerisyourfather @thatsnoteii @dollster @cheetahspy @kaidennnnn @urdariingdoll @motivation-idontknowher @ins0mniac-whack @spaghettificationandpretzels @reneisance @alittlesmartcookie @ninacutebee16 @carydorse @jaysmentalspace

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

The saying, “You are known by the company you keep” could be misconstrued in so many ways.

For how can someone say they truly know a person?

Joker felt that he knew you both inside and out; his stubborn yet highly intelligent Y/n. He loved you to a toxic degree and he knew the feelings were mutual.

He’d only known you for a year, but he knew the itty bitty details that made you unique. You were quiet when necessary and rowdy at the most inopportune times. Your literary skills were profound at the cost of your social prowess.

J loved how you stumbled your way through conversations and your cute little um’s were to die for! But if given a pen and paper, you could move the masses with your words.

In Joker’s eyes you were just shy of being perfect. Sweet, innocent—you couldn’t harm a fly. He thought he knew his soft-spoken Bunny.

Come to find out: he didn’t know you at all.

Your dining room table was a war zone of stationery and mindless clutter.

Joker had parked himself there early this morning and had not moved since. You brought him breakfast and snacks but he would only grumble a quick, “Thanks Bun” to you before resuming his work. He was so fixated on this new heist idea that nothing else mattered. He couldn’t focus on anything if it wasn’t the blueprints in front of him or his phone that would chime with more reliable intel.

Come to think of it, you didn’t see him take a bathroom break. This robbery couldn’t be that important. You tried to get his attention despite failing every time.

Nothing was getting through to your dark clown, so you stopped trying.

You could tell planning was stressing him out, but once J was in his thinking mode, either he would finish or throw a murderous tantrum until he figured it out. All you had to do was wait for the outcome.

In the meantime, something you loved about Joker was his handwriting. It resembled nothing of the infamous madman. His penmanship was legible and slightly feminine with hints of cursive in unexpected places. Only Joker could get away with writing slaughter in pretty script. You did not expect him to have neat writing. It was a huge contrast to his deranged mental state.

It was soothing to watch J hunch over his notebook plotting out his next heist. There were so many intricate details that ultimately found their way into his notes—and you got to see the magic unfold in real time. You almost missed him groaning at the ceiling. He finally stopped plotting and started mumbling to himself under his breath.

A tantrum was imminent, so you decided to intervene before he went out and started killing innocent people.

“What’s bothering you, J?” You asked him.

His stressed-out green eyes immediately found yours from across the room.

You watched his pupils dilate taking in your beauty. You tried not to let his awe-struck reaction get to your head and instead focused your attention on his response.

“It's nothing to worry that uh.. pretty little head of yours with, Bunny. Am I... bothering you sittin’ here?” He gestured to his mess at the table while raking a hand through his dirty hair.

He needed to wash it but if he was going out, he needed to dye it. You would miss his natural sun kissed strands until the green faded out. A pity he covered up something so beautiful.

You shook your head, walking closer to him. “You are never a bother, J. I just came to see if you needed anything. You know... like a break.”

You made grabby hands at Joker’s hair and waited for him to voice his consent.

With a happy squeal, you carded your fingers through his greasy locs. The texture was a bit unusual, but it was an honor to touch Joker in such an intimate way that you overlooked your own discomfort to establish his.

Joker’s head fell back against your stomach in bliss. Your nails felt so good on his scalp, all his thoughts about the upcoming mission just melted away.

It was crazy how you automatically knew how to calm him down. J purred under your touch and you smiled at the overgrown cat at your mercy. This man worked so hard, he never stopped to take breaks and care for himself. He was blessed to have you around to remind him.

Not much it did with the stubborn clown, but the thought was appreciated.

The snacks you brought J were left untouched except for the sugary treats you added last minute. Joker and his sweet tooth. You rolled your eyes and they landed on his scattered plans.

From your advantage point, you could read everything from over Joker’s shoulder.

The heist was thoroughly thought out even in its rough planning phase.

Joker planned to rob the mob run bank in downtown Gotham, but you noticed there was something missing to tie it all together. He couldn’t seem to figure out how to access the bank’s service panels on the roof. You skimmed over the goons’ hired for the job. They were familiar names from your past and you remembered their individual skill sets. You knew who needed to be where to extract their ultimate usefulness.

The heist was scheduled to be done at the day’s end so that Joker could blend in with the district's school buses that drove by the bank everyday like clockwork.

It was perfect. Too perfect, hence why Joker circled alarm panel three times in red marker at the top of his notes and underlined, eliminate idiots twice.

There were open gaps within his idea. He didn’t know how to fill them.

Your poor clown was overthinking this and his little doodles on the plan’s margins were a sign of his restlessness. The solution was so easy; you couldn’t stop yourself from spelling it out for him.

“Baby.. have John John and Razor zip-line from the adjacent office building down onto the roof. John John can access the alarm panel and disable it. He’s got more situational awareness than Razor, so he’ll regroup with the two idiots you stormed the bank with. Tell them... it's only five shares, they’ll off each other to hoard all the money for themselves. Greed will have them turning their guns on their own accomplices. You won’t have to do a thing but watch. Before the bus gets there, there should be only one guy left. That way...”

You leaned down to kiss Joker’s scarred cheek. “You can kill him and the bus driver and make off with the cash. Easy.”

You resumed stroking his hair as if you didn’t solve his day long conundrum.

It was a mind blowing and perfect plan, one that he could’ve crafted if he weren’t so stressed but coming from his Bunny—it was even more diabolical. It was a glimpse at a darker side of you that he’d never seen before. He honestly didn’t know one existed.

He turned to stare at you in disbelief and you had the audacity to look surprised.

“I’m sorry, did I scratch too hard?”

You were worried about his hair rather than the plan you just orchestrated on the fly. How did you string it together?

He glanced down at his unfinished notes scattered on the table. Frost still had trouble decoding Joker’s long code, it was so complex, but you managed to decipher it and fill in the blanks within minutes.

“Can ya read that doll?” J pointed to his notes.

Were you not supposed to? It was clear as day, but you didn’t want to hurt Joker’s feelings if he didn’t like his own handwriting or something.

Joker stood up slowly, seeing you hesitate. He hoped he was just overthinking this.

There was no way his precious Light was some secret criminal mastermind. You wouldn’t harm a fly, yet he couldn’t ignore how easily you read his coded text. No one was supposed to unless they had previous skill in certain circles.

You sensed a shift in Joker’s demeanor and quickly backtracked.

“Um well, I.... I mean not really, no! The um voices in my head.. kinda filled in the gaps? Perks of being a writer, I guess? We can read anything! You have pretty handwriting if that’s the problem! Haha.. Wow! Would you look at the time? A-Are you hungry? I was thinking lamb stew with some fufu for lunch!”

You laughed and all but sprinted towards the kitchen, leaving a perplexed Joker staring after you.

Perks of being a writer? Was he really supposed to believe that? Although he did blush at the compliment you made towards his penmanship. You somehow managed to talk your way out of his suspicions with your sweet nature.

Joker watched as you washed your hands and forgot about the odd moment altogether. Watching you cook was the perfect way to distract Joker. It must’ve been a fluke for you to be able to read his code.

But why did he have the feeling you were hiding something?

Your plan was so foolproof, Joker didn’t change a single thing.

The day of the hit came, and everything went smoothly as if you personally knew the mindset of his hired goons. They played their part as pawns perfectly and Joker was able to drive the school bus out of the bank with no issues. His Light was secretly a genius!

What neither of you predicted was the loyalty of the bus drivers in front and the one behind Joker’s decoy.

Despite the hush money given, they still snitched to the GCPD, and the authorities had Joker surrounded by the time he broke off from the fleet. He couldn’t put up much of a chase in the worn-down vehicle and was quickly apprehended.

There was nothing Joker could do to get himself out of being hauled back to Arkham by his arch-nemeses, Batman.

J’s triumphant day was instantly a catastrophic failure.

The caped crusader was standing around, giving Jim Gordon the rundown of events as if he did all the work. They were talking for almost an hour now with no end in sight! All Joker could think about in the meantime was how many strings he had to pull to break out of Arkham to get back home to you.

He didn’t want you to worry when the news of him being captured aired. It was an inevitable outcome within the relationship, one that you mentally prepared for; but Joker had always planned on saying goodbye should this situation arise.

Joker hardly gave you a kiss when he snuck out your apartment for this robbery. He was so confident in your plan that he didn’t fathom the possibility of being caught and skipped his traditional goodbye. It was a small mistake that he regretted terribly.

Without a doubt, Joker knew you would sit up all night waiting for him only for a breaking news bulletin to squash your hopes of his return.

Escapes from Arkham took careful planning months in advance and eight times out of ten, they ended in failure. Joker couldn’t survive a day without his Light. Now he would be separated from you for an undisclosed amount of time before he could even begin plotting an escape. He was screwed.

He banged his head against the window in anger. Jim and Batman glanced over at the noise and didn’t notice a rookie cadet snatch the handcuff keys away from Jim’s belt.

Joker’s world was crumbling fast and the voices in his head were making things worse.

What will Bunny think deserting her like this?

She’ll never love you again for leaving without a word.

You’re gonna lose her forever.

No one said anything about the rage filled tantrum Joker was having in the backseat. They could hear his yelling and saw how the car was rocking violently as he flipped out.

Batman spent enough time talking with the Commissioner. It was time to transport Joker before he grew too volatile and risked an escape attempt.

Jim turned around and got the attention of a cop he trusted. “Hey, Cruz! You and the rookie take the clown back to the precinct. We’ll follow after we finish here.”

Cruz nodded and slapped his newly appointed partner’s arm. “Hah! Let’s go rookie. You drive.”

Joker was still fighting against his restraints when he spotted the two cops approaching the vehicle.

He found it odd that Batman wasn’t escorting him straight to Arkham Island. Instead, two average looking police officers were tasked with the job. Much to his amusement, one of the cops stuck another with a needle about halfway to the car.

Cruz crumbled to the ground and was dragged out of view of the surrounding GCPD officers. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see a corrupted cop and for that Joker didn’t raise an eyebrow at the sight.

He grew curious when the rookie hopped into the car and cranked it up.

They didn’t waste any time stepping on the gas pedal and flooring it straight out of the parking lot. It was only after they drove through the police barricade did a fellow cop shout, “HEY!” thus alerting the squadron of the situation.

Shouts rang out in attempts to pierce the tires, but the cruiser was screeching away like a bat out of hell. Joker couldn’t balance himself being handcuffed as he was.

He tumbled roughly into the door and had a mind to complain about it. “Who taught ya how to drive?!”

He was unsure if this person was his savior but his answer came when other GCPD vehicles gave chase. Even more surprisingly, the Batmobile was not in pursuit just yet.

“I know how to drive, thank you very much.” The erratic driver mumbled towards the backseat.

Joker’s head shot up hearing the voice. There was no way.

Despite the fast speeds and harrowing turns, he managed to right his balance and peer through the dividing glass at the driver. Your e/c locked eyes with his shocked green through the rearview mirror.

“Y/n?” Joker was sent headfirst into the passenger side door after you made a sudden turn onto the highway, literally on two wheels. Okay that jerk felt a little intentional.

J shook off the pain and overheard you laughing in the front seat. He was in shock seeing this rare side of you. Was he dreaming?

Joker almost didn’t recognize his Bunny dressed undercover—mainly due to the scarlet red wig you wore. This had to be a dream. Your e/c eyes were wild with excitement and much to his horror, there was a natural ease to you.

You were in your element speeding down the highway with an apprehended criminal in the back seat.

The police cars caught up and opened fire, yet you laughed at their pathetic attempts even as a few gunshots cracked the back windows of your cruiser. The odds were stacked against you, however you continued, swerving in and out of traffic, causing wrecks and utter chaos in your wake.

You spotted a familiar SUV driving parallel to you and waved at the driver. Joker was about to ask if you knew them when they introduced themselves in a bold fashion.

Two men leaned out the backseat windows and returned fire at the police. Their aim was true and hit the police tires, stopping them in their tracks.

Joker was speechless. How was any of this happening?

His brain didn’t have time to process anything when a helicopter highlighted the car from above. You groaned in anger but reached over to grab a walkie talkie.

“Up top! Up top! Up top!” You chimed into the device.

Then it finally clicked to J. Somehow you were in on this daring escape. He didn’t care about his fate; you were the only concern on his mind.

Joker banged his bound hands onto the divider glass to get your attention. “Bunny! This is dangerous! Ya gotta stop!”

All you did was roll your eyes and scoff. “Mm that’s cute coming from you!” You shifted gears when you spotted something up ahead. “Thank God! Our backup has arrived!”

Joker glanced out the window and only saw Gotham civilians trying to get out the way and the all black SUV shooting back at the GCPD. That wasn’t backup? He didn’t understand anything at this point. The spotlight overhead was keeping you and him visible to the authorities so what could you possibly have in mind to escape?

“What are ya talkin’ about doll?! What backup?” Joker saw twin 18 wheelers up ahead open their hatches. His green eyes widened at the heat they were packing.

What he didn’t see was two more SUVs entering the highway, already aiming at the police helicopter with rockets.

In response to his question, all he received was your maniacal laughter as you reached one hundred and twenty miles per hour. From there, everything happened simultaneously.

You spotted the tank Batman called a car fast approaching and radioed to your men. “Light em up, boys.”

Your cruiser whizzed past the two trucks and the now three support SUVs at the precise moment they blocked the highway and unleashed their weaponry on the unsuspecting police.

It was a war zone. News outlets later on reported that the highway sustained so much damage, it would need to be repaved.

A brave civilian caught the battle from the southbound lanes on his cell phone and it was a literal massacre to witness.

The helicopter was shot down and exploded in a fireball onto the first two cop cars leading the chase. Once a wall of fire separated the GCPD from you and Joker’s getaway car, your goons opened fire and brutally murdered the rest of the fleet of police officers.

Batman tried to save the day but his tank suffered heavy structural damage from the RPGs and other arsenal fired at it.

The bat had no other choice but to flee the scene.

The authorities were severely outgunned and quickly outmanned by a few criminals. Jim Gordon was at the end of the chase and his face paled seeing the insignia painted on one of the 18 wheelers.

It was his cue to call out the immediate, fallback orders to his men. But it was already too late.

It had been decades since Jim Gordon had seen the haunting image of a cobra coiling around a bouquet of nightshade.

The Mors Atra Lux Syndicate. Their Latin translation meaning; death is a dark light. They were the deadliest gang in the east, dating back as far as the Great Roman Empire. And now their current leader was making their stand here in Gotham City by allying with The Joker.

The ominous air was palpable. This was the beginning to a very long bloodbath.

But it wasn’t that deep to you.

All you did was call in a favor the second you saw Joker landing himself into trouble during his heist. You were worried about his poor choice of a getaway vehicle right from the beginning. The school bus would help him blend in, but after separating from the yellow procession, he would be vulnerable.

And you couldn’t have been more correct. Through surveillance and radio, you watched Joker be apprehended. It was now or never, and you acted fast.

You called your uncle and exhausted your one-time favor to rescue Joker.

The consequences of your actions would sink in later. You didn’t care that asking for help was your Defacto swearing in ceremony into the gang. There was no way out once you got involved.

None of that mattered as you exited the highway and drove to the predetermined meet up spot. Joker had yet to stop yelling in your ear.

He was giving you a mouthful about the events that were unfolding around him. He too recognized the ancient gang’s insignia and its importance. The Mors Atra Lux Syndicate was the greatest active gang in the world and to have them as an ally was legendary.

His mind was still reeling to discover his Bunny was affiliated!

You screamed whenever there was a bug in the apartment. He shielded you from his own organization due to your intolerance to violence. That’s the Y/n he thought he knew.

His Light wasn’t pure as he thought.

That much was evident when you pulled into an abandoned junk yard, turned off the car, and faced him. “SHUT UP, J! Just.... be quiet, I can’t hear myself think!!” You closed your eyes as Joker stared at you in horror.

You were mumbling to yourself with an eerie smile on your face. Whatever you were discussing was resolved for you quickly composed yourself and grabbed the keys to unlock his handcuffs.

You joined him in the backseat and without hesitation, you grabbed Joker by the neck to kiss him.

He wished it was the interaction mutual but the shock factor of discovering your dark side was hindering his ability to function properly. Just how deep was your affiliation? Should he be intimidated or aroused?

You caught onto Joker’s wary demeanor.

You smoothed down his wind tossed hair, “I’m sorry baby, I’ll explain m-more later but right now? We need to get you somewhere safe.” Your attention wavered after hearing a car door close.

Joker sputtered seeing you pull a gun from your waistline. It even had a silencer on it, he was impressed!

Thankfully you didn’t need it, yet he knew you were a seasoned warrior based on your stance. This wasn’t your first rodeo. You had nothing but murder on the mind and a steady hand.

You recognized your first cousin Flex approaching from his armored SUV and lowered your weapon.

“Bella.” He nodded at you before giving Joker the up down. He wouldn’t judge your choice of a partner. “We’ll take care of him from here.” Flex noted.

Joker was positively mind blown. He waited until you freed his hands to ask. “Uhhhh.. Bella? Is that your err real name, Y/n?”

You and Flex snorted. You hugged your cousin and whispered something in his ear as Joker looked on, growing more and more annoyed by the second.

Finally, you replied to J’s question. “No. Its an honorific in our Syndicate. Flex will take you to your hideout. Don’t. Kill. Him. I won’t be able to save you if you anger the order. I’ll see you at home for dinner, okay J?”

You kissed him one more time and smoothed out his suit, as if you didn’t pull off a highly dangerous recovery mission to free him.

Joker’s head was spinning as you urged him to follow Flex back to the car. Nothing made sense. Everything Joker thought he knew about you was apparently a lie.

You were already destroying the cruiser’s license plate and removing your wig to revert back to your harmless civilian look. You fluffed out your natural curls and then proceeded to coat the cop car in gasoline. The fire started inside the vehicle as Flex cranked up his SUV.

Joker watched you stay behind, staring at the growing flames with that eerie smile on your face. He was staring at a stranger. A devil in disguise. He thought he knew his soft-spoken Bunny.

Come to find out: he didn’t know you at all.   

#thanks for the ask! #thank you for being patient #ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #crazy!reader #joker x y/n #joker x black!reader #joker x reader #reader insert #black!fem!reader #ledger joker #heath joker #dark knight joker #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad #paint the town red #romance #ride or die #his lighthouse

[lilacmingi]

MY TREASURE

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT read/interact with me or my works

Pairing: Pirate!Yeosang x Princess!fem reader

Word count: 8,179

Yeosang strode along the quarterdeck, gazing at the horizon before him. The many pieces of jewelry he wore glimmered in the golden sun.

Unlike other pirates, Yeosang took pride in his appearance. He was known for being a princely pirate with breathtaking features and exquisite style. He carried himself in such a way that made others envy him, pirates and royals alike—with elegance.

The captain was embellished with jewels from around the world, each one plundered from a different town or city, and he's about to collect the most precious jewel of all—you.

You were a princess and the daughter of a wealthy king who ruled over a small bayside kingdom. Recently, your father has been begging for you to find a man and settle down, but you could care less. Truthfully, you weren't interested in dating let alone getting married. You'd rather not waste your time on men, you'd much rather go out and take a stroll around town, go to the docks and dip your toes in the water. Anything but waste time getting to know a man who just wants you for the title that comes with marrying a princess.

"Y/n, I've planned a formal social gathering for this weekend. I think it would be a good opportunity for you to mingle with some of the men in town." Your dad mentioned at breakfast.

"Dad, I've already told you, I'm not interested. These men are just out to get money. They want to be a prince and they want the money that comes with it. That's the bottom line."

"Sweetheart, I would never let that happen. Besides, this is a formal event. Only eligible men will be here."

"Eligible or not, they're all out for something. I won't be with a man who doesn't care about me."

"That's why I'm hosting this ball. So you can mingle and see if any man sparks your interest. It's important that you start looking for a man to settle down with."

"Again, I'm not interested."

"You don't have a choice, Y/n. This ball is happening wether you like it or not."

"Unbelievable. Looks like my choices are being made for me." You stood up from the table. "I've lost my appetite."

Needing to get away from everything and cool down, you slipped out of the castle headed straight for the docks to enjoy your last moments of freedom as well as the warm water and sunrise.

Dread washed over you like ocean waves as you thought about being forced to attend this stupid social gathering.

You'd always dreamt of finding the perfect prince who would come in and sweep you off your feet. One that didn't care about your money and would take you on wonderful and amazing adventures, allowing you to see the world outside of the kingdom that you'd been confined to your whole life.

It was the night of the ball and you found yourself stuck in a fancy dress, standing amongst a large crowd of people you had no interest being around. You had slowly been migrating towards the corner of the room and away from the large mass of people, not wanting to be in the middle of all the commotion. Plus, if you kept your distance, there'd be less of a chance someone would approach you.

The last thing you wanted to do was get stuck in a conversation with some hoity-toity rich boy that you had nothing in common with.

All that immediately went down the drain when you spotted a blonde-haired man striding through the crowd. His long hair was gently swept away from his face, the lengthy strands at the back curling under his ear which donned a ruby earring. You'd never seen this man around before and wondered if he could be from a town far away. After all, he was nothing like the guys around here.

He wore a long coat embellished with silver designs swirling around the cuffs and the opening of the jacket. Underneath the coat was a white dress shirt paired with high waisted slacks and Chelsea boots.

You had to close your mouth, not realizing it was hanging open. The way he carried himself captured your attention and made him stand out from the crowd. You could practically see the confidence radiating off him and it pulled you in instantly.

Could it be? Is he the prince you've dreamt of all these years?

"Wow."

You managed to tear your eyes away from him for a moment, feeling the need to cool off and calm yourself.

Alright, Y/n. Get a hold of yourself. Looks aren't everything. You need to talk with him first.

Once you gathered your nerves you planned to approach him and strike up a conversation.

It took a few moments as well as some self assurance, but you finally felt like you could approach the insanely handsome blonde. From your spot near the edge of the room, you began searching for the Prince Charming that caught your eye.

Just then, the clicking of boots approaching grabbed your attention. Upon turning your head, you were met with the stunning man you were searching for. You gave yourself a brief, last minute pep talk just before he came to a stop.

"Y/n, I presume?"

His voice. It was deep, yet gentle, soft, and almost melodic.

"That's correct." You managed to speak.

He held his hand out, his ring-clad fingers glimmering under the chandelier light. You placed your hand in his, allowing him to bring it up to his lips and place a gentle kiss to the back of it. Your heart rate sped up as a result. He glanced up at you through his lashes, holding your hand near his lips for a few moments before letting your hand down.

His facial features were otherworldly and resembled those of a statue. He was quite literally a work of art.

"And what might your name be?" You inquired.

"Kang Yeosang."

Even his name was enchanting.

"I came to ask you if you'd like to share a dance with me."

If it were any other man in the room, you would have said no, but this man intrigued you.

"Of course." You offered him your hand, allowing him to pull you out to the dance floor.

You were unable to take your eyes off him as he took your other hand and began swaying to the music.

He was light on his feet and knew how to dance well. Now that he was up close, you were able to take in all of his incredible facial features. From his large, beautifully shaped eyes, to his soft nose, and plush, pink lips.

"I'm curious."

"About what?" You questioned.

"You."

"Ask me anything."

"What do you think about the kingdom? How do you like living here?"

"It's nice, I suppose. The people are wonderful, but I feel a little confined sometimes."

"Confined?"

"Yes. I want to go out and see things, go on adventures and discover new places and make new memories."

"You don't travel?" He asked.

"Well, I've never seen anything past the bay."

Yeosang seemed surprised.

"What about you?" You flipped the question on him in hopes of turning the attention away from you and your lack of exploring.

"Me? Oh, I've been so many places, I've lost count."

"You have?"

He nodded. "I've been to many towns of various sizes. Some of them small with the most wonderful secret places and some big with many exciting things to offer."

"Wow. How can you travel so much? Don't you have duties?"

"I manage." He shrugged, one of his hands letting go of yours to wrap around your waist.

You knew he was only dancing, but the gesture had your cheeks feeling warm.

"Is there anywhere you'd like to see? A place you want to travel to one day?"

"Well, there is one place."

Yeosang's head tilted slightly as he waited for you to continue.

"I don't have the photograph with me at the moment, but it's a beautiful beach with sparkling sands and towering palm trees. And there's a long outcrop of rocks that are perfect for walking along. They're clustered so close together you could sit on one and dip your toes in the water."

"How do you know about this place?"

"My mom visited the beach long before I was born. From the way she used to talk about it, it's a beautiful place."

"Used to?" Yeosang inquired softly.

You gave a weak smile. "She passed six years ago."

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

"It's alright. I've had plenty of time to grieve and move on."

"You said you had a photograph of the island?" He questioned.

"I do."

"I might recognize it."

"I can go get it if you'd like."

"Alright." He nodded. "I'll take a look at it."

"Follow me."

You took Yeosang up a set of stairs that led to the hallway where your room was located.

"One moment."

He waited out in the hallway while you stepped into your room, retrieving the photo from a drawer in your nightstand. You liked to keep it close to you, which is why it stayed by your bed.

"Here." You handed the old photograph to Yeosang, watching as he examined it.

"I recognize this beach." He said after a moment.

"You do?"

He gave a small nod, handing the photo back to you.

"Have you been there?" You asked him after putting the photo back in its place.

"Once, but it's been years ago. I remember it well. It's hard to forget a place as breathtakingly beautiful as that."

"I have so many questions."

"We can get back downstairs and you can ask any questions you have."

Your eyes gleamed with elation as Yeosang took your hand and led you back down to the party. Once back in the ballroom, the both of you joined hands for a dance.

"You said you had a lot of questions. Ask them. I'll l answer them all."

"When you went to the island, how long did you stay?"

"Not very long. I just walked around a bit."

"But you remember it well."

"I do."

"Do you remember a lot of the places you visit?"

"Every single one." He responded.

You and Yeosang talked for the rest of the night. You'd ask questions about his endless traveling and he would happily answer, telling you everything he could about his adventurous lifestyle. You didn't know how he was able to travel so much. You assumed maybe his parents sailed with him. Either that or they just allowed him to do whatever he wanted to do. You wish your life could be like that.

You sat in your room that night, brushing your hair and gazing into the dresser mirror as your mind drifted back to Yeosang, reliving the wonderful memories from the night.

He was delightful and exceeded all of your expectations. Handsome, kind, and has a taste for adventure. He was perfect—almost too perfect. He checked almost every box.

At this point, you truly believed he was the prince you'd always dreamed of and waited for. He swept you off your feet right from the start and not once did he talk about money or attention.

"I believe your hair is thoroughly brushed."

Your father's voice grabbed your attention, causing you to abruptly set your brush down on the dresser. Glancing through the mirror, you saw your dad leaned against the doorway of your room.

"How long have you been there?"

"Long enough to see you spacing out." He chuckled. "I saw you spending time with that Yeosang fellow a lot tonight."

"How do you know his name?"

"He approached me when he arrived at the ball and asked where you were."

"He did?"

Your dad nodded.

"So, did you have a good time?"

"I did."

"See? It wasn't so bad, was it?"

"I suppose not."

"Did you meet anyone else?" He asked.

"No." You responded. "Just Yeosang. Truthfully, he's the first and only guy to capture my attention."

"Well, that's good to hear."

"I'd love to see him again."

"We'll see. In the meantime, you should go to bed soon. It's been a long day." Your dad told you before leaving the room.

You unintentionally hummed to yourself as you got ready the following morning, your mind still clouded with magical memories from the ball. As you made your way downstairs, you wondered what Yeosang was doing and if it was possible for the two of you to see each other again.

"Morning." You smiled as you entered the dining room.

"Morning, Y/n."

You went to sit down at the table, pausing when you spotted Yeosang sitting across from your father, your heart hammering against your rib cage.

"The two of you seemed to have a nice time last night, so I thought I'd invite Yeosang over for breakfast."

"Oh." You sat down in your chair, trying to hold back a smile. "Alright."

Breakfast was served shortly and the three of you ate in silence until Yeosang spoke up.

"This food is delicious." He complimented.

"Thank you. We've got a wonderful cook."

"So, Yeosang, how did you hear about the ball?" Your dad asked.

"I caught wind of it back in my hometown. I just happened to hear townspeople talking about a ball for men to meet with Princess Y/n and I was interested in meeting her. She's very beautiful."

You glanced down at your lap shyly.

"Yes, she is." Your dad smiled.

As you finished up breakfast, you and Yeosang would steal glances at each other. At some point, he looked away from you, straightening his posture as he spoke up.

"Your highness, I have some business of sorts to discuss with you."

"Oh, you do?" You father raised a brow.

"Yes."

"I'll just let the two of you speak in private." You excused yourself and started to get up.

"No, you can stay. I'm sure whatever Yeosang has to say can be said with you here." He then turned to your guest. "Go on, Yeosang."

"Very well." He straightened his posture before continuing. "I would like to take Y/n with me, with your permission, of course."

Your brows raised after hearing this, surprised by his sudden offer.

"You would?" Your dad asked.

"I would." Yeosang confirmed.

Did he really just say he wanted to take you with him? This has to be a dream.

Your dad turned to look at you, then back at Yeosang.

"Well, I'm not sure I can give you an answer."

"What?" You spoke up.

"This is very sudden."

"Sudden?" You questioned. "You're the one who was so adamant about having that ball last night despite my wishes. You're the one who told me I should start thinking about settling down and now that there's a decent guy that I actually like, you're going to start caring about me and saying it's too sudden?"

"I'd be willing to pay." Yeosang spoke up.

That caught your dad's attention.

"Pay?" He parroted.

"Yes, your majesty." Yeosang reached into his satchel and pulled out a small sack, dropping it onto the table, the sounds of coins clattering inside of it.

Your father's eyes were the size of saucers as he stared at the coin bag, a pensive look on his face as he seemed to weigh his options.

You'd much rather go with the adventurous Prince Yeosang than be stuck inside the castle and confined to the bayside island you've called home for so many years. You were ready to get away from this suffocating life of yours and have some fun for once.

"Very well." Your father finally answered.

You should have been offended at how fast your father caved once money was being offered, but you weren't. You were more so excited to leave.

This was it. You were finally going to live the life of your dreams with your real life Prince Charming.

"So, we have a deal?" Yeosang asked.

"We do."

With that, Yeosang slid the bag of coins across the table to your father.

"When will you be leaving?"

"Today."

You shared at look with your dad upon hearing Yeosang's answer.

"You'd better get to packing." He told you.

To that, you stood from your seat and scurried up the stairs to your room, packing suitcase after suitcase as fast as you possibly could. It took less than ten minutes for you to get everything ready. You'd packed mainly clothes, but brought along some toiletries for the trip and a few meaningful items. Before leaving your room, you grabbed the beloved beach photo that belonged to your mother, slipping it into the top of one of your suitcases.

"Ready?" Yeosang asked once you arrived at the top of the steps with your things.

You gave a nod, prompting him to ascend the stairs and grab two of your four suitcases.

Your father seemed elated as you left, giving you a bright smile as you walked out of the castle for the last time.

"Let's get to the ship." Yeosang told you.

He has his own ship? That must be how he travels.

You giddily followed Yeosang through town, clutching your suitcases, excitedly, ready to start this new chapter of your life. He approached the boardwalk, coming to a stop at a massive vessel docked in the water.

"Here we are." He smiled.

"This is your ship?"

"Mhm. The one and only."

"This looks like a pirate ship."

"Uh... yeah." He nodded. "Shall we?"

You hesitantly took hold of his hand as he lead you up the gangplank and onto the ship. Once on board, you took a moment to look around, seeing men rushing around on deck, most of them dressed in dingy clothes. You found it odd that the crew on the ship weren't dressed as nicely as Yeosang. Even if they were employees, they ought to be dressed nicer. The only reason they wouldn't be dressed in better clothes is if they were... You almost chuckled aloud at the thought. There's just no way... unless?

It was then that realization hit you.

"You're a pirate?" You gaped, jerking your hand away.

"Yes." He answered so casually it made you sick.

You began pacing frantically back and forth, trying to make sense of everything and wondering how you could be so stupid.

"You lied to me!" You pointed at him accusingly. "I thought you were a prince!"

"Technically, I didn't lie to you. You thought of that on your own. I never actually told you who I was. But thank you for the compliment."

"That's it, I'm leaving." You huffed, turning around to find that the gangplank had been raised and the ship was departing from the dock.

"You're trapping me here?"

"You're not trapped here. You live here now. I said I wanted to take you with me."

You watched as men hauled your suitcases across the deck.

"Hey, be careful with those!" You shouted.

"Just put those in my quarters." Yeosang ordered.

"Yes, captain." The men chorused.

"What am I supposed to do now?"

"Enjoy yourself. Explore." He answered simply.

"How am I supposed to do that? I don't know where anything is."

"How about a tour, then?" Yeosang gestured for you to follow him.

You didn't get a chance to answer as he walked ahead, moving down into the ship. You trailed behind him, looking around at the different hallways. He moved down the one to the right first.

"These are the crew's sleeping quarters here." He told you. "Ten rooms for ten crew members."

He turned around, moving past you and going to the next hallway which led to a rather large room.

"This is the galley where we all eat. The kitchen is right over there." He pointed. "We have three meals a day, though I'm not opposed to snacking throughout the day."

Yeosang's attitude was so amicable.

You were honestly kind of bothered by how nonchalant he was being, acting as if nothing was wrong. Not only that, but his polite demeanor was raising your suspicions.

He has to have some sort of angle. You thought. He wants something.

"I know what you're thinking, but the food here is actually good. It might not be as fancy as what you're used to having, but it's good."

"Food is food. I don't care if it's fancy or not."

"Ah. Good." Yeosang smiled. "Come this way."

He showed you the cargo hold, the sick bay, the forecastle deck where he steered the ship, and the quarterdeck.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Whatever you want, it's yours." He told you.

He's being awfully nice.

He made his way to the main deck, stepping towards a set of doors. "And finally, this is our room."

"Our room?" You repeated. "Listen, I don't know what you think—"

Yeosang opened up the doors to his sleeping quarters, revealing two separate beds.

"Oh."

"You didn't think I was going to make you sleep in the same bed as me, did you?" He asked.

"No, of course not." You lied.

Yeosang could see right through you, but chose not to say anything.

"As you can see. Your bags are right by your bed. You're free to make yourself at home. I've got captain duties to tend to." He started to walk away, pausing momentarily. "Once again, if you need anything, just ask."

You simply nodded and stepped into the captain's quarters which you now shared with Yeosang. If you were going to be stuck on this ship, you might as well make yourself comfortable and get familiar with the place.

A large stained wood desk sat near a panel of windows facing the ocean at the backside of the ship. On the desk was a globe, books, maps, and mapping tools. A bookshelf was situated against one of the walls of the room. The shelves were lined with books, small statues, figures, and other antique items, ones you assumed Yeosang had stolen from people.

Both beds in the room were in good condition and neatly made. Beside each bed was a small wardrobe and a nightstand. Out of curiosity, you went to look inside Yeosang's closet, wondering what sort of dingy garments were inside. You were convinced he dressed up and made himself look like a prince just to fool you. Well, you were about to catch him. Grabbing hold of the handles, you pulled open the wardrobe, letting out an "Ah-ha!" thinking you had revealed a huge secret. Your form deflated as you saw multiple embellished coats similar to the one he was wearing that day. Closing the doors, you moved to the drawers, jerking them open only to find perfectly pressed pants and neatly folded white dress shirts.

Letting out a huff of disappointment, you stepped away, pacing around the room, your mind clouding with questions all surrounding Yeosang. Why did he take you? Why was he being so nice? Each one was answered with one solution: He wanted something from you.

If that were so, then why did he pay your father? A small fortune for a bigger one, perhaps.

Now that he has you, what is his goal? Sell you to someone else or just use you to brag to his other pirate friends?

The longer you thought about the whole ordeal, the more questions popped up and the less answers you had. Having enough, you left the room, stepping out on the main deck for some air and space. You were thankful for the commotion from the crew bustling about the deck, as it drowned out your endless thoughts.

You didn't know anyone on the ship besides Yeosang, therefore you had no one to talk to except him. So, you reluctantly moved up to the forecastle deck where Yeosang was standing at the helm steering the vessel.

"What did you think of the ship?" He asked.

"It's just an ordinary ship." You responded, staring out at the ocean, avoiding eye contact with him.

Knowing how upset you were, Yeosang didn't say anything, allowing you to stare out at the massive expanse of water.

Eventually, your eyes moved to the crew bustling about the main deck below working hard.

A man with short, black hair and ginormous muscles walked across the deck. His biceps stretched against the fabric of his short sleeved shirt as he lifted a crate, moving it elsewhere. The aura he carried was intimidating and had your instincts screaming at you to stay away.

"Who's that?" You found yourself asking aloud, your eyes following the large man.

"That's Wonho. He does most of the heavy lifting around here." Yeosang told you as he kept the wheel steady. "Don't let his appearance fool you. He's a really nice guy."

"Yeah, I'm sure he is." You responded somewhat sarcastically.

Yeosang already tricked you into thinking he was a prince, so there's no way you can truly believe what he says. For now, you'd steer clear of that Wonho guy.

Days passed and Yeosang continued to be nice and tried to get through to you. He would start up a conversation only for you to give him short answers. He was constantly letting you know that you could ask him for anything. You weren't sure why he was doing that.

Everything was really starting to get to you. The only person you had to talk to on this ship was Yeosang and you weren't exactly on speaking terms with him. In a way, you were completely alone. 

"Are you okay?" You heard someone ask softly, pulling you from your negative and bleak thoughts.

Looking up, you saw the last person you expected to see—Wonho. His voice sounded so friendly.

It took you a moment to realize he was waiting for you to answer.

"Ah. Yes. I'm fine." You forced a smile.

"I mean no disrespect, but you don't seem fine."

Your smile faltered. Well, there was no use in lying.

"I'm not."

"What's wrong?" He questioned, taking a seat on a crate beside you.

"Everything."

"I'm not going to force you to talk about what's bothering you, but if you'd like to get it out, I'm more than willing to listen."

The entire time you've been on this ship, you've avoided Wonho because you thought he was terrifying, even after what Yeosang said. Now, you see that you were wrong... and Yeosang was right. Despite this being your first conversation with the very muscular man, you felt very comfortable, comfortable enough to open up a little.

"I guess I'm just feeling lonely. I don't really know anyone on this ship besides Yeosang."

"Well, you know me now." He smiled. "I'm Wonho, by the way."

You already knew his name, but pretended like you didn't, returning his friendly smile.

"I'm Y/n."

"I hear you're a princess. Is that true?"

"It is." You nodded.

"We don't really get princesses on this ship." He swung his legs back and forth. "I've never met one either."

You almost chuckled at how adorable he was, even for a large, beefy guy. He was definitely someone you could see yourself spending more time with—and you did.

Approximately a week and a half passed. You still weren't speaking much to Yeosang and were spending most of your time with Wonho since he was the only other person you were acquainted with on the ship.

Today, he offered to teach you how to do a few things that the crew normally does. You didn't have anything better to do and you'd been wanting to experience new things, so you agreed.

"Then, you wanna just give the rope a good tug." Wonho instructed.

You readjusted your hands, pulling on the rope, watching as the sail was hoisted.

"That's good. Keep going."

You took a few steps back, pulling on the rope, watching the sail lifting up higher. The feeling of your dress being tugged caught your attention, followed by a resounding ripping noise. You froze in place, glancing down to see a large portion of your dress had been torn off, the fabric stuck under the wheel of a cannon.

"Oh no."

You had expected to be staying in a castle, not on a ship, so the garments you packed weren't exactly ideal for pirate activities.

"Here. I'll tie the rope off." Wonho hurried over, taking it from you. "You can go change."

You muttered a small thank you, scurrying into the captain's quarters and started rummaging through the wardrobe by your bed. In the short amount of time you'd been on the ship, you decided to move your dresses from your suitcases and into the wardrobe. You'd also unpacked some of the personal items you brought with you in an attempt to make your little corner of the room feel more like home, if that was even possible.

You let out a sigh of frustration, closing the doors of the wardrobe. All you had were dresses and if you were going to be helping around the ship, dresses were not the thing to wear. You needed pants, which you didn't have.

As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on Yeosang's wardrobe on the opposite side of the space. The captain was currently in the galley still eating breakfast. Moving across the room, you opened Yeosang's wardrobe and began sifting through the shirts, grabbing the one that looked like it would fit the best. Finding pants was a bit harder.

You put on one of Yeosang's white dress shirts and managed to find a pair of trousers that somewhat fit, though you did have to use a scarf to tie around your waist. As for shoes, you'd been wearing a pair of flats which weren't practical in your current situation, but they were all you had. You had to admit, even though the clothes were a bit too big for you, they were comfortable, much more comfortable than those confining dresses you wore so often back at the castle.

With your new (and much more practical) outfit, you stepped back out onto the deck where Wonho was waiting for you.

"Wow." He commented when he saw you. "Are those the captain's clothes?"

"Yeah. I only packed dresses, so this was the next best thing."

"You look like a real pirate now." He chuckled.

As much as you disliked your current situation, you laughed along with him.

Yeosang stepped out onto the main deck feeling satisfied after his breakfast. He began moving towards the stairs to the forecastle deck when he spotted you. He wouldn't have given you a second glance had you been wearing your usual fancy dresses, but you weren't. In fact, it appeared that you were wearing his clothes. For some reason, that made his heart flutter a bit.

Wonho had just left to take care of some tasks around the ship when Yeosang approached you.

"Morning."

You spun around upon hearing his voice. "Morning." You responded, trying to act casual.

"Are those mine?" He gestured to your getup.

"Yeah. Sorry. My dress ripped. I didn't exactly pack for staying on a ship." You somewhat tried to get a dig at him for tricking you, but he seemed to brush it off immediately.

"That's fine. Next time we dock, I'll get you some pants."

You shouldn't have been surprised at how understanding he was, but you were. No matter how you treat him or how little you speak, he continues to be nice.

"Until then, you can wear my clothes any time you want. They look better on you, anyway." He commented as he stepped past you, going to the forecastle deck.

You didn't know why, but his words made your cheeks feel warm.

Wonho approached you excitedly, a bright smile on his face.

"Y/n, did you hear? We're gonna have a party." He said, his eyes gleaming.

"A party?"

"Yeah. We're gonna have it tomorrow night. There's gonna be drinking and dancing and lots of good food."

"I love dancing."

"Oh. It's not the type of ballroom dancing you're probably used to." He told you.

"Maybe you could teach me. I don't wanna be at this party unprepared."

Wonho's ears turned a light shade of pink at your suggestion, but he essentially agreed.

"There's not much to it." He told you. "Just link arms or hold hands and jump around in a circle."

You nodded, linking arms with Wonho as you followed his instructions. It wasn't long before you got the hang of it, laughing as you danced in a circle in the middle of the deck.

Yeosang watched from the forecastle deck as you and Wonho danced. His jaw unconsciously clenched and unclenched at the sight of the both of you laughing. He was jealous. He wished it were you and him laughing and dancing together. On the other hand, he was happy to see you smiling and genuinely having fun for the first time since you stepped foot on the ship.

He knew how upset you were with him. Though he told you the truth about not tricking you, you seemed to not believe him, which was fine. He was more than willing to wait for you to come around, but seeing you with someone else made him feel a tinge of jealousy. He had to remind himself that you weren't his and he had no reason to be feeling so jealous.

It was the night of the party and the cook on board had prepared quite the feast. Not only that, but there was a variety of alcohol to choose from.

The celebrations had just begun. Some of the crew mates started playing music by hitting the tops of barrels, stomping their feet, and using makeshift instruments.

Wonho was nice enough to get you something to drink after the party kicked off. You saw there was a bottle of wine, which is what you would normally drink at a party, either that or champagne which wasn't available on the ship, so you settled for the former.

"So, this is a pirate party, huh?" You asked, watching the crew bound around the deck.

"It sure is." Wonho beamed. "We don't have parties too often, so it's always really nice when we get to have these sorts of celebrations. Our cook always prepares the best food."

At the mention of food, you looked towards the spread of various dishes, most of them being finger foods. So far, the meals on the ship have been fairly good, so you were curious to try out what the cook had prepared for the party.

Wonho noticed you eyeing the spread.

"You wanna try some of it?"

You nodded, the two of you moving to the many plates laid out across a makeshift table made of barrels and plywood.

"I recommend this. They're really good." He pointed to one of the bite-sized finger foods.

You took the one he pointed to and gave it a taste, nodding in approval.

After giving a few of the foods a test taste, you went to stand at the railing of the ship to stare out at the ocean, the moon reflecting off the waves.

Cheering and singing pulled your attention away from the night scene. The crew had started chanting and singing sea shanties as they stood in a semicircle, watching two men from the crew dance.

"Hey, you wanna put that dancing practice to use?" Wonho asked you.

You turned to him with a smile, placing your glass down on a nearby barrel.

"I thought you'd never ask."

You and Wonho linked arms and joined the rest of the crew, bouncing around and stomping your feet on the wooden boards of the deck.

The party was so lively and nothing like you'd ever experienced before. It was so much better than the fancy and uptight get-togethers you had at the castle. The room was always filled with dull instrumental music and the low murmuring of the guests as they chatted quietly amongst themselves. Here, however, you heard laughing, singing, and music that actually made you want to get up and dance. The atmosphere was warm, inviting, and friendly.

"Where's Yeosang?" You found yourself asking, not seeing him amongst the crowd of pirates.

"Over there." Wonho gestured.

You turned your head in the direction he motioned to and spotted the captain seated on the steps to the forecastle deck, watching some of his crew dance.

"He was very excited about bringing you here." Wonho spoke up. "He told us how much fun he had at the ball and how the two of you talked about exploring. He wanted to make sure everything was neat and tidy for your arrival and told us to treat you well."

You felt immense guilt hit you square in the chest. Part of you felt flattered that he had done all this for you, but mostly what you felt was shame. He didn't trick you at all, he simply wanted to give you what you wanted, what you had always longed for.

"I think I'm going to go speak with him." You told Wonho.

Not knowing what was going on, he gave you a simple nod. "Maybe you can convince him to join the party."

"Yeah. Maybe." You forced a smile before walking off.

You approached him quietly, unsure of what to say first.

"Why aren't you enjoying the party?" You asked.

"I'm not one for stuff like this, but the guys enjoy it so I do it for them." He smiled softly as he looked at his crew bounding along the deck.

He paused, noticing you looking at him with a somewhat sad look.

"I'm sorry." He chuckled dryly. "Look at me not even participating in my own birthday party."

"Birthday?" You questioned, the guilt you already felt doubling. "I didn't realize."

You fell into silence for a moment. "I'm sorry. I wish I had something for you."

"That's alright. Presents aren't really my thing, anyway."

Your shoulders slumped slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright. I never told you it was my birthday."

"No, I mean I'm sorry about the way I've been acting. I've been so harsh with you since I got on this ship. When I found out you were a pirate, I thought you just wanted me for my money or my title... most men do."

He let out a sound mixed between a huff and a laugh. "I suppose I can't blame you for thinking that."

"You should, though." You responded.

"But I don't. Y/n, that night at the ball you told me how much you wanted to explore. You told me you hardly ever go out and you've never left your town. I brought you here because I wanted you to get what you've always wanted. The night I returned from the ball, I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation. So, I made a plan to tell your father I wanted to bring you with me. Money often sways people, so I brought some with me in case he said no."

He did all of that? Your heart sank.

You hated that this is what it took for you to come to your senses. You enjoyed your time with him the night of the ball and you liked—like him a lot. But your whole attitude changed when you found out he was a pirate. That's hardly fair. His title shouldn't change how you feel about him.

"Yeosang, I'm so sorry." You slumped down at the foot of the steps. "We had such a good time that night, but as soon as I found out you were a pirate, I started treating you differently. I've heard of how pirates can be, so I thought you were tricking me and that this was a plan to get my family's money or—"

"Y/n." Yeosang cut you off, grabbing your attention. "It's okay."

Okay? Did he just say it was okay?

"What? No it isn't. You—you can't just forgive me like that."

"I can and I did." He responded calmly.

"Maybe we could start over." You suggested, wanting desperately to do something to further extend your apology. "Put all this behind us."

"I like that idea." He nodded with a smile.

That smile, while small, seemed to lift an immense weight off your shoulders.

"Do you maybe wanna join me for a dance? I've been practicing."

Yeosang's lips quirked upwards. "I'd love to."

With that, both of you got up and moved to the center of the deck, the crew watching their captain, surprised to see him join the crowd.

"You ready?" Yeosang asked, taking both of your hands.

"More than ready." You confirmed.

The music picked up and Yeosang started jumping around in a circle, you following immediately. Both your shoes hit the deck on time with the music, the crew cheering loudly for their captain. Melodic laughter spilled from Yeosang's lips as you danced, his eyes crinkling into crescents, which told you he was having a wonderful time.

You celebrated with the crew well into the early morning hours. Parties at the castle usually ended around midnight, sometimes 1 AM, but never later than that. It was truly the best night of your life.

After the night of the party, you felt a sense of peace you'd hadn't felt before. Not only that, but your attraction and admiration for Yeosang grew exponentially. Though you still spoke to Wonho, you now spent almost all of your time with the captain. You felt awful for treating him so badly, but starting over was exactly what you needed. You were able to actually enjoy your time on the ship, taking everything in and relishing in your newfound freedom. Like Yeosang promised, the next time they docked, he got you some proper clothes as well as a nice pair of boots to wear on the ship.

When you first arrived Yeosang had said, "Whatever you want, it's yours." You see now that he truly meant it. Any time you mentioned something you were craving or something you wished you had, he would say, "Do you want me to get it for you?"

Of course, you'd say no most of the time, but you found it endearing how willing he was to make you comfortable and accommodate your needs.

There was a thoughtful look on Yeosang's face as he steered the ship in an unknown direction, his lengthy blonde hair blowing in the sea breeze.

"I have a favor to ask." He spoke up.

"What is it?"

"I need you to stay in my quarters until I come get you."

"Why?" You questioned, curiously.

"Just please do it." He almost begged.

"Alright." You gave in, doing what he asked, going to his quarters and making yourself comfortable on your bed.

To pass the time, you see how many books you can count scattered about the space. Yeosang wasn't the best at cleaning up his messes, so there was a lot to count. Once all the books were counted, you switched to swords, then knickknacks.

Boredom eventually took over and you found yourself staring blankly at the ceiling, waiting for Yeosang to come get you.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your daze, causing you to sit upright on the bed.

"Yeosang?"

"No, it's me." Wonho's gentle voice called out as he poked his head into the room.

"Yes?"

"Captain will be ready in a few minutes and requests that you dress up."

"Dress up?"

He nodded, looking like he was holding back a grin.

"Very well." You got up from your spot on the bed and began rummaging through your wardrobe, pulling out the nicest dress you packed. It was your favorite color and was very flattering on your figure.

It wasn't long after that Yeosang came knocking at the doors of the room.

"You ready?" He asked, softly, making sure not to poke his head into the room in case you were still changing.

"I am." You responded.

Upon emerging from the room, you saw you were no longer in the middle of the ocean. To your surprise, the ship had anchored near some sort of island.

"Wow." You heard Yeosang whisper under his breath.

"What?" You asked, turning to him.

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

The compliment had your cheeks feeling hot.

Yeosang offered you his hand which you gladly took. The two of you descended the gangplank that had been lowered and stepped onto a beach.

Though you wanted to ask questions, you stayed quiet and followed Yeosang along the seashore. After some time, you spotted a short trail of torches across the beach ahead that had your interested piqued.

Upon following the beacons of light, you were met with a small setup. A blanket lay on the sand surrounded by a few lanterns. On the blanket was a tray of fruit and two glasses of what you assumed was wine. The whole setup looked very romantic and had you feeling like you might cry. Yeosang beckoned you over to the blanket where you both took a seat.

"Where are we?" You finally asked.

"I thought you'd recognize it from the photo."

That's when it all clicked.

Your eyes widened as you took in the view. How could you not notice? It was the island. The one your mother went to all those years ago.

"Yeosang..." Your voice came out just barely above a whisper.

You were so touched you could hardly find the words to say to him to truly convey how this made you feel. So instead, you grabbed him and pulled him into the tightest hug you could give.

"Thank you." You murmured, your voice trembling as tears threatened to spill.

One of Yeosang's hands came up to stroke your hair. "You're welcome."

When you finally pulled away, he gave you a soft smile. You were feeling so many emotions in the moment, the strongest being adoration for the pirate captain who came in and swept you off your feet. You didn't have a chance to stop the next words that came out of your mouth.

"Can I kiss you?"

Yeosang's brows raised slightly at your sudden request, his expression softening afterwards.

"Yes you can."

His hand moved to cup your cheek as you leaned in, both your lips colliding. Since you never bothered to date anyone, you'd never kissed anyone... until now, that is, and it was nothing like you'd imagined, in fact, it was even better.

Your fingers moved to tangle themselves in Yeosang's long hair, gripping at the lengthy strands at the back of his neck. His free hand rested on your hip, squeezing lightly every now and then as his lips moved rhythmically against yours, sending a wave of warmth through your entire body. His head tilted slightly and deepened the kiss, making you feel lightheaded. This man really knew what he was doing.

A brief silence settled over the both of you when you parted ways, the only sounds being heard were the waves crashing against the shore and your short breaths.

"Wow." You breathed.

"Yeah. Wow. Have you done that before?"

"No."

Yeosang let out a chortle. "That's hard to believe. Are you sure you haven't kissed any princes?"

"No." You chuckled. "Just a pirate."

"Well, I'd love to sit here and kiss you all evening, but I prepared all this and I'd hate for it to go to waste." Yeosang gestured to the wine and fruit.

"Ah. Right." You reached for a glass.

"Should we have a toast?" He asked.

"Sure. What should we toast to?"

"New beginnings."

"To new beginnings." You lightly clinked your glass with his, taking a sip of the wine.

"Oh." Yeosang reached for a strawberry, holding it out to you. "I picked these up from the last town so they're fresh. You should try one."

You reached for the fruit only for him to pull it away.

"Ah." He said, opening his mouth, gesturing for you to do the same.

You shyly leaned forward and allowed Yeosang to feed you the strawberry.

"Oh." You covered your mouth as you chewed. "You're right."

After enjoying some of the fruit, you leaned over on Yeosang's shoulder watching the waves, a sense of peace and contentment washing over you.

"This was the plan all along, you know." Yeosang spoke up, suddenly.

"What? To win me over?"

"No. To bring you here."

Your heart softened a bit more hearing that.

"So, if you'd like to go back home you can. I'll take you back." He added. "Just say the word."

You lifted your head from his shoulder and made a face at him, taking offense at the offer.

"Are you kidding me? I've already had a taste of the pirate life. There's no way I'm going back."

Yeosang couldn't help but smile.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yunho ⟡ San ⟡ Mingi ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

Tag list: @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143

#yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #yeosang x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez pirate au #ateez fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop oneshots #ateez oneshot

[fatehbaz]

“Dutch King apologizes for Netherlands’ role in slavery.”

The Dutch/Netherlands abducted slaves from West Africa; hosted the Dutch West India Company; operated an extensive profitable sugar plantation industry built on slave labor; and established colonies in the greater Caribbean region including sites at Aruba, Curaçao, Sint Maarten, Bonaire, and the adjacent “Wild Coast” (land between the Orinoco and Amazon rivers, including Guyana and Suriname). Many of these places remained official colonies until between the 1950s and 1990s.

---

Scholarship on resistance to Dutch practices of slavery, colonialism, and imperialism in the Caribbean:

“Decolonization, Otherness, and the Neglect of the Dutch Caribbean in Caribbean Studies.” Margo Groenewoud. Small Axe. 2021.

“Women’s mobilizations in the Dutch Antilles (Curaçao and Aruba, 1946-1993).” Margo Groenewoud. Clio. Women, Gender, History No. 50. 2019.

“Black Power, Popular Revolt, and Decolonization in the Dutch Caribbean.” Gert Oostindie. In: Black Power in the Caribbean. Edited by Kate Quinn. 2014.

“History Brought Home: Postcolonial Migrations and the Dutch Rediscovery of Slavery.” Gert Oostindie. In: Post-Colonial Immigrants and Identity Formations in the Netherlands. Edited by Ulbe Bosma. 2012.

“Other Radicals: Anton de Kom and the Caribbean Intellectual Tradition.” Wayne Modest and Susan Legene. Small Axe. 2023.

Di ki manera? A Social History of Afro-Curaçaoans, 1863-1917. Rosemary Allen. 2007.

Creolization and Contraband: Curaçao in the Early Modern Atlantic World. Linda Rupert. 2012.

“The Empire Writes Back: David Nassy and Jewish Creole Historiography in Colonial Suriname.” Sina Rauschenbach. The Sephardic Atlantic: Colonial Histories and Postcolonial Perspectives. 2018.

“The Scholarly Atlantic: Circuits of Knowledge Between Britain, the Dutch Republic and the Americas in the Eighteenth Century.” Karel Davids. 2014. And: “Paramaribo as Dutch and Atlantic Nodal Point, 1640-1795.” Karwan Fatah-Black. 2014. And: Dutch Atlantic Connections, 1680-1800: Linking Empires, Bridging Borders. Edited by Gert Oostindie and Jessica V. Roitman. 2014.

Decolonising the Caribbean: Dutch Policies in a Comparative Perspective. Gert Oostindie and Inge Klinkers. 2003. And: “Head versus heart: The ambiguities of non-sovereignties in the Dutch Caribbean.” Wouter Veenendaal and Gert Oostindie. Regional & Federal Studies 28(4). August 2017.

Tambú: Curaçao’s African-Caribbean Ritual and the Politics of Memory. Nanette de Jong. 2012.

“More Relevant Than Ever: We Slaves of Suriname Today.” Mitchell Esajas. Small Axe. 2023.

“The Forgotten Colonies of Essequibo and Demerara, 1700-1814.” Eric Willem van der Oest. In: Riches from Atlantic Commerce: Dutch Transatlantic Trade and Shipping, 1585-1817. 2003.

“Conjuring Futures: Culture and Decolonization in the Dutch Caribbean, 1948-1975.” Chelsea Shields. Historical Reflections / Reflexions Historiques Vol. 45 No. 2. Summer 2019.

“’A Mass of Mestiezen, Castiezen, and Mulatten’: Fear, Freedom, and People of Color in the Dutch Antilles, 1750-1850.” Jessica Vance Roitman. Atlantic Studies 14, no. 3. 2017.

---

This list only covers the Caribbean.

But outside of the region, there is also the legacy of the Dutch East India Company; over 250 years of Dutch slavers and merchants in Gold Coast and wider West Africa; about 200 years of Dutch control in Bengal (the same region which would later become an engine of the British Empire’s colonial wealth extraction); over a century of Dutch control in Sri Lanka/Ceylon; Dutch operation of the so-called “Cultivation System” (”Cultuurstelsei”) in the nineteenth century; Dutch enforcement of brutal forced labor regimes at sugar plantations in Java, which relied on de facto indentured laborers who were forced to sign contracts or obligated to pay off debt and were “shipped in” from other islands and elsewhere in Southeast Asia (a system existing into the twentieth century); the “Coolie Ordinance” (”Koelieordonnanties”) laws of 1880 which allowed plantation owners to administer punishments against disobedient workers, resulting in whippings, electrocutions, and other cruel tortures (and this penal code was in effect until 1931); and colonization of Indonesian islands including Sumatra and Borneo, which remained official colonies of the Netherlands until the 1940s.

[bostonrealtors]

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#157 Chestnut #163 Chestnut #84-86 blossom #86 blossom #chelsea ma #chelsea mass #chelsea real estatae agent #chelsea real etsate #down payment #first eagle program #first republic #jeffrey bowen #low mortgage rates #mortgages #The Chelsea Cathedral #The Chelsea Flats #Vanessa Downer

[chelseasdagger]

#just saw rahul’s acting at the end of midnight mass and i feel like curling up into a ball and crying all over again #i don’t fucking remember it hurting so badly #honestly i think i finished midnight mass and was crying and just had to block it all out #idk how chelle’s seen it like 4 or 5 times through at this point i can’t take that final epsiode #and he’s just on the ground begging him i— come the fuck on i love hassan so much oh my god #shut up chelsea #im sorry i had to try and express how badly watching that hurt me and this is the only place to do it

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Shiryn Ghermezian

Several women interrupted Chelsea Handler’s comedy show in Richmond, Virginia, on Friday night in a coordinated effort to protest the Jewish comedian’s support for Israel since the start of the Israel-Hamas war.

The incident took place at Handler’s show Little Big Bit**h at the Altria Theater. In a video that was shared on social media, one female audience member at the show stood up and shouted at Handler, “Murder. Mass Murder.” The pro-Israel comedian first replied, “I can’t hear you,” before adding, “Oh, honey, please. This is not what this night is for.” She then asked security guards to remove the protester from the audience.

Female demonstrators in the audience also yelled “Palestinian babies — you’re a genocide supporter” and “Free Palestine.” Some audience members who got frustrated by the show’s interruption helped authorities identify the protesters and were told by one of the activists, “You guys should be this angry about genocide, not people standing up.”

“Be angry about genocide and people dying — children are dying with our tax dollars,” shouted the same protester, referring to the US providing aid to Israel amid its war against Hamas terrorists controlling the Gaza Strip following the Oct. 7 terrorist attacks. After an audience member answered, “They should die,” the female protester replied, “They should die? Say that on camera.”

One protester was arrested by police and can be seen in the video being escorted away from the show in handcuffs. Handler also told the protesters, “Do you know that I’ve been on tour for a year and a half and this is the only city two people stand up? You guys really owe me an apology.”

The protesters appeared to be associated with the organization Here 4 The Kids, which said in an Instagram post that the demonstrators on Friday night “forced other white people to confront our American complicity in GENOCIDE, begging them to no longer remain silent after 195 days of massacre.”

“These are protestors who are AGAINST the indiscriminate slaughter of human beings,” the organization added, before telling Handler: “YOU owe Palestinians an apology. YOU owe every single orphaned Palestinian child AN APOLOGY. YOU owe HUMANITY an apology. Demand a Free Palestine.”

Handler said in 2022 that she stands with the Jewish community in its fight against antisemitism and in February of this year filmed a video with Israeli activist Noa Tishby to address misinformation being spread about Israel during the ongoing war in Gaza. She said in the clip that she is “pro-Palestinian and anti-Hamas, and it is OK to question Israel’s policies and still be pro-Israel.” She also called Israel “our greatest defense in the Middle East for all of Western democracy and Western values.”

Although Handler has been critical of Israel over the years, she joined hundreds of celebrities in signing on open letter in October that thanked US President Joe Biden for supporting Israel after it launched a war targeting Hamas terrorists in Gaza. The open letter also called on Biden to “not rest until all hostages are released.” Days after the Oct. 7 attacks, Handler, condemned Hamas and its “barbarism” in a statement.

#chelsea handler #protesters #israel #gaza #hamas

[reborrowing]

a strange appearance, part four

look at me, writing! posting it!

Stranger Swap Masterpost | ao3 First | Prev | Next

Mistakes were made. Word count: ~2500 cws: self harm, fear, panic, violence/peril, language, reference to past abuse taglist: @da3dm @whumpsday

The fear Phoebe had been pushing aside all morning hit her all at once—but not half as hard as Val did.

“You can’t do that!” they cried.

Whatever triumph Phoebe had felt in getting her iPad to hear her from across the room evaporated. Val moved so quickly she barely had time to see them react, nevermind get out of their way. She had only a half-second to doubt herself before the iPad actually responded.

And then the world collapsed.

The weight of it was already pressing down on her by the time she processed the shadows, the sounds, the movement, the voice. She couldn’t see anything. The counter shuddered as Val leapt up and claws scraped across the laminate. They’d cleared it like it was nothing, like they didn’t have the mass of a living building, and bulldozed through whatever was left of breakfast. And then she was thrown off her feet and smothered against Val’s palm.

The impact alone knocked her breath away. Val’s hand was a disorienting mass of flesh that snapped closed around her before she had any chance to recover. Their fist swung erratically, enough to make her nauseous, as Val bolted across the apartment. She took a breath and pushed back against whatever finger happened to be in front of her chest. She didn’t think they even noticed.

On the other side, back in the real world, the normal world, the simple setting of her own apartment, the call connected. The line rang. Val made a high-pitched noise that stung at the edge of Phoebe’s hearing.

Without warning, gravity shifted again as they lowered their hand to stuff her into the front pocket of their sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt, really, though by now it made for a pretty effective prison. As soon as Val let go of her, she screamed. She barely made two syllables before a massive weight pressed her back against the fabric, bruising her arm and stuffing her mouth full of fleece.

“Quiet,” Val hissed, as if Phoebe had any choice but to comply.

She thought she was going to die. The experience was very new to her and she didn’t care for it at all. It was searing. That flash of instinct and urgency when you bump your hand against the stove, the automatic flinch when someone jumps at you, the call to the surface as your lungs ache at the bottom of the pool, all at once and turned up to eleven. It drowned out any thoughts of her own to demand she get away, run, now, and all she could do was sweat.

Her eyes watered as she finally gave up the insistence that she was dreaming. This was impossible. But it would be nearly as impossible for Phoebe to sleep through this. She could barely sleep through the sound of traffic outside her window. She’d woken herself with her own snoring before. She wouldn’t sleep through her heart racing like this, not for this long.

After an eternity of seconds, Chelsea picked up. Squished against the thick fabric, Phoebe couldn’t make out anything that was being said. Val’s heart thundered overhead and their hand pressed down even tighter—quiet, quiet, quiet. 

~

Val froze, staring at the tablet with dread as the screen changed to show an active call. A stranger’s voice called out through the speaker. They’d heard that voice before. They came by often enough. Often enough they might have a key. They could come here. Another set of eyes. They might already know what was happening. Phoebe could have called them already, in the bedroom. Clearly phones didn’t need to be touched like Val had thought. 

Chelsea called out several times and waited for Phoebe to answer. Val clenched their jaw and quivered, afraid that she might get loud enough that they could hear her. After a few seconds, Chelsea’s tone shifted to mild amusement, maybe annoyance. Not concerned, at least. They  didn’t say anything about Phoebe shrinking or magic or impossible things. They hung up.  

Maybe they didn’t know anything.

Val’s breath came out all at once, so harsh it almost sounded like a laugh. They fell out of that scared paralysis like a puppet cut loose from its strings. They absently set Phoebe aside on the coffee table as they hurried to turn off the iPad to prevent any other calls, then collapsed onto the couch beside it. They were exhausted. They should have been curled up in bed by this hour, even without the constant fear draining their energy.

They almost let themself pass out. Sleep could help, maybe, or give them a break. And then they heard Phoebe. The sound jolted their heart back into a panic.

They’d attacked her.

They felt like they were unraveling. She was saying something and they weren’t hearing it and that alone set off a whole new cascade of mental alarms because the last thing they wanted was a hostile host because they didn’t know this wasn’t going to last and then she would catch them with more reason to hurt them than anyone else had ever had. They were dead. They were terrified to even imagine what a human might think was fair retribution for this, not when they’d already been caged for existing and burned for stealing and—

“What is wrong with you!? What the fuck!”

Val forced a hand against their thigh, just below the hem of their skirt, and pushed until they felt blood. They inhaled sharply as their attention narrowed to the shallow pain. Pain itself was much easier than the threat of pain. Pain was urgent, an easy reminder that they had more important things to do than overthink every possible terrible thing that hadn’t even happened yet. Phoebe couldn’t hurt them—not yet, not as she was—so Val took care of it themself to keep themself in line. They raked their claws across their leg with a sigh of clarity.  

“Sorry,” they said.

Val folded their shoulders like they could disappear into their own poor posture. They leaned forward, conscious of getting too close, and cringed at what they saw. Phoebe was at least in one piece.  Her face was flushed and teary, her hair frizzed and disheveled. One of the knots that had been acting as a sleeve had come loose and her dress was crooked and falling down her front. She crossed her arms in front of her in an echo of a hug and she leaned away from them even as she glared. She was a mess, she was afraid, but she was alive. 

And she was mad.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what—I’m better than that, I swear. I…are you okay? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you,” Val whispered.

They knew better than that. They had to be better than that.

They couldn’t have her mad at them.

~

It was hard to watch Val move up close, even without the new fear that they might choose to reach out and attack her. It was like standing too close to a train. They were so large that it was hard for Phoebe to track how fast and how far they were actually moving. But at least trains had rails. She shivered.

“Tell me why the fuck you—you could have killed me!”

They flinched away against the back of the couch. 

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t, and—are you okay?” they bleated.

She wasn’t. She was shaking, hanging on to a tightrope between fear and anger, and desperately trying not to look at the abyss below. 

“What do you care? You did this, you attacked me, you—what the fuck is your deal?”

They slowly slid down to the floor to get closer to their level. This time, she flinched. They were a building falling in slow motion and they didn’t just crash around her, they could choose to lunge at any moment. In either case, they were a force she had no prayer of resisting if they decided to hurt her again.

They were real no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise.

And, she realized, they were crying. She hadn’t noticed that while they were still looming over her and she was taken aback by it now. Why were they crying? They put a hand on the table and she saw blood smear beneath their fingertips. She brushed a hand over her most sore points to confirm, but she wasn’t bleeding, only bruised. It wasn’t her blood. In those brief seconds, they’d managed to hurt themself as well. Just how unstable were they?

The table shifted with them as they lowered themself the rest of the way to the floor. Phoebe reassured herself that they were just using it for balance, but her throat went dry anyway. She stepped back and looked for somewhere to run, but of course, there was nothing she could do that would keep Val from just grabbing her again if they wanted to. They wouldn’t even have to get up. Just existing near them meant she was cornered. Helpless.

“Don’t, please,” she creaked.

Val’s bloody hand flew back as if they’d touched a hot pan.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” they said, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. They deflated. “I panicked. I’m sorry.”

They leaned back, like giving her more room might make this better. Like distance was the problem, not her current, inexplicable size. Phoebe didn't have any way to undo it, she couldn’t call for help, she couldn’t—there was that abyss she didn’t want to look at. Despair. She pulled a hand through her knotted hair. 

“Why?"

She wasn’t sure what she was asking. Why had they panicked? Why should she believe them? Why were they here? Why was this happening? She knew Val knew more than they were letting on. They knew her, they knew her apartment, they had to know more.

“I couldn’t let you tell anyone! No one’s supposed to know,” they whined.

“Tell anyone what?”

They hesitated and for a moment, Phoebe thought they might run again. She wondered if that wouldn’t be for the best. The iPad was right there, on the couch, and she was surrounded by clutter she could probably make into a bridge of some kind. But the idea of crashing to the ground was as bad as being grabbed. She was helpless with or without Val.

“You have to promise—swear—you won’t tell anyone. About me, or…”

“What is it you’re so afraid of!?”

“You! Or, I mean, humans, all of you! You…please, just promise me, you can’t tell anyone?”

She swallowed uneasily. She knew they weren’t human, obviously they were something other, but the outburst still unsettled. It sounded like a reveal in a bad sci-fi flick. But they’d already turned on her so she reluctantly agreed not to tell. It’s not like she could reach anyone anyways.

Val sighed. They swallowed and finally explained. Sort of, mostly. They stammered over most of the details, and they emphasized that they really didn’t know what was going on right now, with her either. Shrinking was new to them. But tiny people, not so much. Apparently those were everywhere, living in secret and convinced that was key to their survival.

They didn’t elaborate on why or where this everywhere was that they managed to keep hidden. It still sounded like bad sci-fi. But she didn’t argue. She already had forced herself to accept the absurd for now and she was more than wary of setting Val off again. She was plenty bruised enough.

She remembered the other thing that she had dismissed as a dream, the little figure falling off her dresser. That had probably been real too, then right? Had that been Val? She asked and after several more seconds of hesitation, they confessed that they’re usually just over three and a half inches tall.

Phoebe shook her head, trying to wrap her head around the idea of something so horribly large being so small. Her stomach twisted when she heard the number—and just how small was she, anyway? She glanced around the clutter surrounding her to try and guess, but it wasn’t like she’d left a ruler lying around. Taller than that book was thick, shorter than a cup. No useful measurement, no idea how close she might be to three and a half inches…it couldn’t be an exact trade, not when Val was practically swimming in her clothes, but how far off was it? Some of her own mass had to be missing from this bizarre exchange, but what did that mean? How much? How did this all work?

“I-I can’t do this,” she said.

“What, are you kidding? You’re doing way better than me,” Val said.

“Only because I didn’t think it was real!”

“But other than just now, when I lost it, you’ve been fine. And you’re still okay, right?”

“Now, maybe, but what if you freak out again? What about tomorrow? What about—I have classes! I have a job! How am I—I can’t do anything like this! What if this is permanent? This doesn’t just happen, why should we assume it’s going to unhappen?” she yelled.

Phoebe started to pace, yanking out her hair as she walked. Val reached out for her with their clean hand, darkening her view with their shadow. She slapped their hand away before they could touch her. They bit their lip as they dropped their hand down onto the table beside her.

“Hey. Hey, let me do the panicking, okay? Please?” Val said.

“Because that worked out so well?”

“Because we can’t both be acting stupid. Take a breath, alright? Here, I can…I’ll give you some space to—”

The horizon seemed to shift as they started to stand. The sheer scale of the movement made her sweat but Phoebe lurched after their hand like she could hold them in place.

“No! Don’t you go anywhere!”

“Um, okay,” they said uncertainly, sliding their hand back into her reach.

She was still afraid of them, physically and instinctively, almost overwhelmingly so. After what they’d done, how could she not be? She couldn’t trust them to be nice or even rational. She knew that, at least intellectually. But emotionally? Mentally? She couldn’t face being alone in her own head now. Having crazy around was better than going crazy herself. 

“Is there—can I do something to help you? I could—maybe that tea wasn’t such a terrible idea?” Val offered.

Phoebe hesitated. She wanted music, something to fill the quiet other than her thoughts and the relative monster that had made them get so dark. But tea probably wouldn’t hurt. It would probably be best if Val had something to calm their own nerves as well, now that their anxiety attacks had proven to be dangerous. They could start with tea before she tried asking for her phone again.

#not entirely convinced I'm being coherent but here it is #g/t #giant tiny #g/t writing #my writing #stranger swap #a strange appearance #oc: val #oc: phoebe #does this count as gtwac? today's thing was prompt: size swap but that's not why i wrote this lol

[thuumwrestler]

Dirges for Durges 🔪🩸

A Baldur's Gate 3 playlist for your Dark Urge OCs [x]

Tracklist:

What Is A Killer Like You Gonna Do Here? - Zeal & Ardor

We Who Walk in Light - The Lord, William DuVall

Hellhounds - King 810

Mortal - Daedric

The Pit - Cvlt Ov the Svn

Brother with the Bleeding Heart - Bannerman

A Mass for Metaphysicians - Junius

Darker than Black - Frayle

Slavegod - 3TEETH

Daimon - Converge, Chelsea Wolfe

Da Vinci Hands Pinocchio Nose - King 810

Black Mask - Deadly Circus Fire

Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This) - Marilyn Manson

Pretty Dead Dead Boy - Lord of the Lost

In My Head - Pale 3

Life Took You For A Freq - Sort Sol, Chelsea Wolfe

Ring of Fire - Frayle

Sickle and Peace - Mastadon

The Ashes of Flowers - Lord of the Lost

Treacle & Revenge - Frayle

ColdHarbour - Daedric

The Serpent - Myrkur

Pale Rider - Lord of the Lost, Lolita KompleX

In Darkness We Trust - Deadly Circus Fire

#I worked super hard on this so I hope you enjoy! #Some songs are for Durges resisting and some are not lol #Baldur's gate 3 #Bg3 #Durge #my playlists #Its mostly metal no surprises there