#i write muses with far worse parents

[scoopstrooptm]

so i like to think that robin eventually comes out to her parents later on in the 90s. we know that steve is the only individual that robin is out to within her canon, that likely extends to a few others in certain divergent arcs i write her in but it's only really once robin reaches the city ( or wherever she and steve end up after the events of canon ) that she becomes much more comfortable telling people in conversation that yes, i am a lesbian. but her parents are still comfortably away from it all back in hawkins ( or wherever they end up after s5, personally i wouldn't want to stay in hawkins after that lmao ), so i think robin does continue the facade with them for a while longer.

it's really later on in the 90s, once she's in a longterm relationship with her future girlfriend, once she has an idea of a career path ( whether that's private investigator robin or director robin ), that she finally tells them. by this point her nonna has passed away too, and that was one thing that did worry her about coming out to her family. her dad is immediately okay about it ( because he's the best, fight me ), her mom doesn't necessarily react badly, per se, but it does force her to grapple with some uncomfortable truths about the image of a perfect, overachieving daughter that she has been trying to push on robin for all these years. i do think that after time they are able to reconnect and become closer than they ever were when robin was younger. i don't think they'd ever be super close, but they can at least get to a point where robin's mom is a part of hers and her girlfriend's life as they both grow older.

#&. headcanon ( robin buckley. ) #i think robin deserves a happy ending with her parents #and her mom isn't necessarily Bad ?? #i write muses with far worse parents #but she just never really Sees robin for who she actually is #and robin eventually coming out would push them in the right direction i think

[cluescorner]

Tim Drake has a weird fucking function

The thing about Tim that I find unique is that his life became SO MUCH WORSE after joining the heroing thing. Everybody else had a mid-to-shit life before becoming a hero/living with Bruce and mostly everybody (except Jason who LITERALLY DIED) had their life improved by being a hero/being Bruce's kid (or at least it is typically portrayed as such.

Tim had the exact opposite trajectory. His life wasn't perfect before he became Robin, but like...multi-millionaire/billionaire (canon is unclear, but he's within Gotham's upper-strata) kid with both natural intelligence + charisma and a bright future ahead of him and parents who were emotionally neglectful but nothing really beyond that (which is also a form of trauma, but all of the info we have indicates that the Drakes were no Arthur Brown or David Cain) and he still had other people he could rely on outside of them. He went to boarding school, which could be something horrible OR something amazing depending on your own thoughts/experiences. I grew up having a commute where we'd drive past a really pretty and rich af boarding school that literally everybody in our area DREAMED of going to, so to me the idea of going to boarding school sounds incredible but mileage may vary. Tim seems like the type of kid who would thrive in that though. Based on what we know in canon atm, his pre-robin life was fucking amazing.

And then he starts being the sidekick and working towards becoming Robin. His parents immediately get kidnapped and poison themselves through drinking tainted water; his mom dies and his dad is in a coma. This is not the fault of Robin, but Tim himself muses about the idea that Robin and dead parents are linked: to become Robin completely, you must lose your parents. And with how fate/destiny/canon events can operate in comics universes, maybe he isn't that far off. Once his dad wakes up, their relationship becomes strained as the man grieves the loss of his wife and realizes that his son has been doing vigilantism as a hobby. It is unclear exactly how good of a parent Jack was before the incident, but the results of Tim's involvement with the Robin mantle has definitely made things worse between father and son. Jack will also die within quick succession of 2 of Tim's best friends, his girlfriend, and his other father. He will also effectively lose like 1/2 his loved ones in the fallout of all of that mess including: his older brother, his other friends (both civilian and superhero), and the stepmother with whom he shared what I would argue is his best parent-child relationship (Dana also may have died, but it's left unclear). He has stopped pursuing higher education (the moment he even applied for college he 'died', and it seems he hasn't made another attempt since) and if he wasn’t a major focus of the media before he sure is now. He tries to quit briefly (in fact he initially was planning on quitting once someone more suited came along) and cannot bring himself to do so. Even when he does manage to get away for a while, his superhero life impacts the pre-robin life he is trying to go back to. Leaving is an impossibility, this is all there is for him now. He also isn’t allowed to make mistakes anymore, not when lives hang in the balance. The one who enforces that impossible standard the most (besides Bruce depending on who's writing) is himself. He’s got TRAUMA now and people want to hurt him constantly. He is constantly questioning his own sanity and morality and place in the world. He almost dies like every month. Tim grows colder and less grounded, he is becoming both a better and a worse version of himself at the same time. He’s saving lives in the same few issues as he’s setting up a Saw movie plot for the man who killed his father. He is haunted by the ghosts of his past and the looming figure of his future. His life becomes SO MUCH FUCKING WORSE after he becomes Robin. Some of it is the fault of others, some is the fault of circumstance, and some of it is due to his own actions. But basically all of Tim's worst traumas and life-changing moments are either tied to or caused by Robin. Dick's parents would still be dead, Jason would still be living on the streets, Stephanie would still have Arthur Brown for a father and a lot of other things that deserve their own posts/IDK if they've been retconned, and Damian would still have been raised in the eco-cult where death is a constant. Those are life circumstances that occur without the involvement of Robin, the only one who even needs Bruce involved at all in their series of events is Damian. But Tim? All of what is considered his 'worst' moments occur after he assumes the role.

This idea is what I find the coolest and most fascinating about Tim as a character. Being a hero is usually portrayed as either an outright awesome thing or a righteous duty that one must fulfill or (maybe in a grimmer and/or more grounded story) a sacrifice to your interpersonal relationships/mental health that is made for the greater good. For Tim, being a superhero actively ruined his life (both because of the general circumstances surrounding being a kid vigilante and the choices he made as part of that role). It's never portrayed that way in canon because we need to come out of issues going 'wow being a superhero is so cool! I'm gonna buy the next issue!', but when you just look at Tim's life literally everything really bad that we know of occurred after he became Robin.

#tim drake #batman #batfamily #Red Robin 2009 #Red Robin #idk this is just why I think Tim is a really interesting character. I'm probably not being as articulate as I could be but it's tumblr so #I've had a lot of people say that they think Tim is the most boring robin. And I disagree because I don't think any of them are boring #but it is definitely the hardest to explain what makes Tim interesting to people with only a cursory knowledge #and it doesn't help that a lot of what makes Tim cool relies on his relationships with OTHER characters. #like you can explain why Jason is cool and interesting without even mentioning Batman if you really want to. #with Tim you need a fucking relationship chart and like 11 asterisks whenever anything involving the 'Bruce is dead' era is involved #so I just felt like typing up why I think he can really work as an exploration of somebody who straight up got WORSE after heroing #granted it's never actually stated because DC needs to make money. and tbh the closest we've ever gotten is Red Robin 2009 #which I feel is dubiously canon at best at this rate. was it retconned? did any of it happen in the current universe?

[yanderecrazysie]

can you write a new part for sugawara's idealized scenario? i'm very curious about the 3rd part and i love your writing style. 💓🌸

Sure and thank you! I feel like this turned out pretty bad, but I did my best.

Requested on Tumblr, Quotev, and Wattpad- so many people wanted this LOL

Part 1: here

Part 2: here

Title: Idealized (Part 3)

Pairings: Sugawara Koushi x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, Sugawara’s gone mad, hasn’t he?

Summary: Sugawara Koushi seems to be completely perfect: good grades, talented athlete, responsible, and a total sweetheart. But, if he’s so perfect, why does your string of fate, that red string that warns you of the most dangerous person in your life, lead right to him?

AU Note: Some people have a “String of Fate” that, instead of symbolizing love like in soulmate AUs, leads straight to the most dangerous person in your life when you’re close enough to them. The string is invisible to everyone EXCEPT the person that would be in danger. Not everyone in the world has a string of fate but those that do have no idea in what way they will be in danger.

idealized

/adjective/

regarded or represented as perfect or better than in reality.

  Sugawara’s voice was sugar sweet. So sweet that you almost forgot that he was calling you from your mother’s phone.

“What happened to my mother?” You demanded.

You could hear the satisfied smile in his tone as he said, “You’re finally talking to me.”

“Please,” you begged, “what did you do to her?”

You prayed that she was okay, that Sugawara had merely swiped her phone. Something deep inside you knew that wasn’t the case. 

“She’s safe. For now,” Sugawara said, “I didn’t mean to go to such drastic measures, I swear. But I couldn’t think of anything else to get your attention. You avoid me like I’ve got the plague. Why don’t you treat others like that? Why is it only me?” His voice raised more and more with each word until he was shouting into the phone, voice choked with emotion.

“The red string of fate,” you admitted, trembling from head to toe, “I saw it connected to you and I didn’t want anything to do with that.”

There was no harm in telling the truth now, especially if it calmed him down. Sugawara certainly had stopped yelling, a silence stretching on from his end as he mulled over your words.

“I guess fate can’t be avoided,” Sugawara mused, “After all, it’s all led to this moment, hasn’t it?”

You gulped audibly, your throat feeling as dry as the desert. “Please just let my mom go. I’ll do anything…”

“Anything?” Sugawara asked, a hint of eagerness slipping into his voice, setting you on edge. Dread seemed to press down on your shoulders, causing you to fall heavily on your bed, trembling from head to toe. This can’t be good.

But did you have a choice? Was there anything you wouldn’t do to get your mom back? No, of course not.

“Anything,” you confirmed softly.

“We’re going to make a trade,” Sugawara replied, “Her freedom for yours.”

You closed your eyes, sucking in a shaky breath. How had it come to this? The teacher’s pet, the popular, handsome volleyball player… how could Mr. Perfect be this cruel? How could he break so many laws just to get his crush to talk to him?

The situation reminded you of Beauty and the Beast. Like Belle, you’d be giving up your freedom for your parent’s. You resolved right then that you’d never, ever fall for the beast, like Belle did. Until the day you died, if it came to that, you would hate him with every inch of your soul.

You felt tears prick your eyes. Until the day I die? You didn’t want to think about that, but wasn’t that what you were promising to him? Or, at least, until he got bored of you. Would that be worse or better? I can’t tell.

“Where are we meeting?” You asked.

Sugawara’s voice trembled with unrestrained excitement from the knowledge that he had won, “My house. Tell the police or anyone else and your mother dies.” He told you the address- a house not too far from yours.

“Okay…” you agreed, tears slipping down your face. You wiped furiously at them, refusing to admit weakness despite losing to him. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see you crying, you were still angry at yourself for being so helpless.

You pulled out a jacket and slipped on your shoes, looking at each room in your house as though you had never seen them before. Your heart felt heavy in your chest. Would you really never return?

The sound of your front door closing behind you seemed so final. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurry, as if you walked slow enough you would never have to face Sugawara. The cold air nipped at your nose and ears but, for once, you appreciated it. Who knew when you’d be allowed to go outside again?

You arrived at Sugawara’s house much too quickly. It was strange how such an ordinary looking house could be dripping with malice. You trudged up to the door, forcing yourself to knock. The door flung open and your tormenter peeked out at you, a smile spreading across his face, making him look so innocent that you could almost forget what he had done.

Then, the red string materialized, tightening around your finger, and you were jolted back to reality. You fought the urge to turn tail and run. This is for Mom.

Sugawara beckoned you inside. If your front door closing had sounded final, it was nothing compared to his door and the click of a lock. You fought back tears, overwhelmed by the reality you’d found yourself in.

You followed him down a staircase into a basement, heart sinking as you were met with what looked like a jail cell. Sugawara opened the cage and you knew what you had to do, walking shakily into the cell and taking a seat on the surprisingly soft bed inside. With a scrape against the floor and a creak, the door shut behind you, iron bars surrounding you on three sides. He pulled out a key and locked you inside.

“Now my mom,” you tried to force your voice to remain steady, “You promised you’d let her go.”

Sugawara smiled rather regretfully, “About that. She’s seen my face and knows what I planned to do.”

Your entire body froze, a chill running down your spine. “You promised! My freedom for hers!”

“Well, freedom can mean many things,” Sugawara reasoned, “Like freedom from life, the earth, etc.”

“Please, I’ll do anything! I won’t fight you or anything, just don’t hurt her!”

Sugawara reached a hand through the iron bars, reaching for you. You shrank back into the corner, just out of reach. He frowned in response and retracted his arm.

“I already have everything I want.” Sugawara said softly. He gave you a small wave as he exited the room, leaving you to cower in your cell, tears rolling down your cheeks and helpless sobs escaping your mouth.

For a few minutes, there was silence, except for your hiccups and whimpers. Then… 

BANG.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere haikyuu #haikyuu!! #yandere one shot #one shot #yandere sugawara #sugawara koushi

[aprito]

hi! do you have any recommendations for sasosaku fic with more than 10k words?

a couple (a lot) of the top of my head (burned into my retina) in no particular order finished and unfinished (they are all important to me)

!!! IF YOU READ ANY OF THESE BE A COOL KID AND LEAVE A REVIEW !!!

hope springs eternal by simplelations (wholesum retelling of p1 naruto but with same age au sos i have made fic art that's how you know the love is real)

incantations by thirrin (extremely underrated howl's moving castle inspired magic au)

the neighbourly thing to do by koneko_taichou (wholesome middle aged sos are neighbours au. especially love the reason ss divorced in this fic and cant wait to see where this goes)

against all odds by koobabear (unfinished but platonic canonverse sos that's very fun)

these days by stormdragon6 (the one and only extremely long and extremely fullfilling mutual pining sos childhood friends modern au. scenes from this fic are burned into my brain)

a second chance by invisibleninja12 (200k literal retelling of p2 naruto with same age au sos where sasori got yeeted into the future and sakura is committed to help him before he makes the final turn for the worse. incredibly wholesome)

deep into the woods by muffin_ride (twisted beauty and the beast meets horror meets sos in their 40s far too old for this bullshit. thats the type of content we love around here)

lost year by omgitspocky (the fic that literally started my obsession with same age au basically sakura goes back in time and not only distracts sasori from defecting but also gets to hang out with a young tsunade)

bait and hitch by aelynthi (after the fantastic previous fic homesick comes one of the funniest takes on the fake dating trope with outrageously good characterization. i am emotionally invested in this one)

acaso mi madre engaña a mi padre? by takewaelel (i recommend this cheating fic at least once every full moon cycle because it has some of my favorite characterisation ever. every reread i discover some other amazing take)

lady of the blackthorns by vesperchan (amazing fantasy sos au. and thats why vesper is the GOAT)

pyrrhic victory by watevermelon (same age au sos with sasori's parents alive is one of the three ships and we're rooting for them)

grading on a curve by sayyikes (100% pure comedy and we're here for this painfully realistic and hilarious modern au)

sword of damocles by angelofdeath10 (medieval sakura is sasori's knight au. sasori is extremely pathetic but that makes it fun. i recommend everything they write in general <3)

spring fever by tsuki hoshino (sakura quits her job with sunan royalty and is ready to settle down and have kids in the middle of sasori's 10 year meticulously planned how do i get her to date me plan. watch as he desperately tries to bring his plans to fruition in the most sasori way possible)

invocation of the muse by nenalata (toxic college au sos that ruined me as a person, it's so fucking good even if i took immense psychic damage after deluding myself sos somehow will make it work. you need to read this immediately. this is exactly how i envision a bad ending outcome)

porcelain by shoujojunkie (not 10k but i will rep this doll maker falls in love with his tiny vain selfish creation fic until the day i die)

#ask noni #fic rec #sasosaku #im sure i have more that i forgot about i will never forgive myself #if you had given me over 2k this would probably be triple in length #do you know how unfair it is to me. as a person. to not be able to recommend a bunch of my faves bc theyre shorter than 10k #im in tears #hope this keeps you busy <3

[super-sextual-stories]

I’m reading The Beauty of the Experience and oh my is it amazing! Chapter 28’s ending had me laughing like you wouldn’t believe. I wanted to ask, since Andy seems to be figuring out on her own what caused her parents separation, would she ever ask Lena or Andrea? Is that something her siblings or her will ever know? I ask because there’s a point where some things are just hard to hide and we also reach a point in life where we see people for who they are. And given that at some point white lies as described in the story can potentially become hurtful. Lena also mentions in thought that she hates lying to them. Would they see the pregnancy as yet another lie? In essence I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though they keep the kids in the dark to protect them they eventually come out of the dark themselves by picking up on things even if they don’t know what’s going on they pick up on emotions, body language, tone of voice etc. As Lillian points out they deserve to know. And further lying or prolonging of the truth can make it worse(by this I mean them realizing they knew a different version of the person that wasn’t the true version everyone knew because I think as people even if it was their parent they wouldn’t want to be around a person like that) But I like to think based on how you write them even if they hold back information from them Andy & Sophia, especially Andy, knows what’s up. That’s just the musings of my mind.

Gosh I meant to answer this a while back because it’s such a fantastic question! But here we are on chapter 30, so please forgive me.

One of the reasons I love writing this AU so much is because of the complexities and layers involving the kids, Andrea’s transgressions, and Lena’s attempts to protect her kids from the truth of how horrible her ex was. That being said, you’re right! White lies, while intended to be kind, end up no different than straight up lies the longer they drag on. And kids are magnificent sponges that just absorb everything around them, especially when you try to keep them in the dark.

Andy is undoubtedly smart and due to being the eldest she’s definitely more aware of Andrea’s behavior. She’s certainly pieced together enough to guess at what went down, and her little digs at Andrea hopefully make that clear. Sophia internalized a lot of what she witnessed with Andrea, and she’s coming to terms with what she processed and how she feels now that she’s growing into someone different from Andrea. There will be a point when Lena (and Andrea) will have to outright explain why their marriage dissolved because of Andrea’s infidelity. With any luck, it might help them begin to heal from it as a family, but if you're curious to how they’re all getting along so far, Chapter 36 is now on my Patreon and Chapter 30 is up on ao3.

#supercorp #supercorp abo #lena luthor #kara danvers #supergirl #my stories #ask sextual #patreon #supercorp fic rec #alpha.kara #omega.lena #andrea rojas #the beauty of experience #BOE

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: To Be Found (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

To Be Found 

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Its an average Thursday with Y/n struggling to ignite her writing mode. What start’s out as a normal night for Y/n, quickly turns into the worst weekend she’ll ever experience. That is... if she survives the whole ordeal. 

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy the story!

Last Chapter  |  Next Chapter

It always rained in Gotham but that didn't dampen Y/n's mood. After spending majority of your life in the rain, your body simply adapted to it. An umbrella felt like an extension of your hand nowadays.

Today's forecast was a light drizzle, stuck in between being a nuisance and the beginning stages of a downpour. This was Gotham, so it leaned more towards the latter. Paired with the unbearable humidity and the constant rain, your natural hair didn't stand a chance here.

"Why did I move to Gotham?" You asked yourself wistfully.

Still inside your apartment you sighed at the wet, dreary city outside and packed your trusty umbrella into your tote bag before mentally creating an outfit geared around your rain boots.

For a lazy Thursday afternoon, things were relatively lax at your residence. Soft soul music played from your record player and you took the liberty of living alone to dance around because truly, no one was watching.

One of your giant floor length windows overlooked a nearby park a few blocks away and thankfully you had no neighbors on either side of you to witness you dancing.

You had nothing but your royalties to thank for your cozy Old Gotham apartment near Grant Park. As a matter of fact you had a clear view of it and parts of the Fashion District come night time. You loved the gothic architectural charm of Downtown mixed in with the modern restoration and because of its respectable distance away from Otisburg and Burnley.

Everywhere in Gotham was dangerous but at least you didn't sleep in Joker's playground.

GCPD and Wayne Tower were within walking distance of your apartment if need be, something that put your parent's minds at ease back in Blüdhaven and it ultimately became the final factor in renting the place. Well that plus the original claw foot bathtub but safety came first!

Just mentioning the name of your hometown made your skin crawl. You were forever grateful you escaped that God forsaken city only to land in far worse conditions, but you chose to bear it. Your dreams were limited back home. At least you had a chance to embrace them here in Gotham City.

Ever since you were a little girl the art of creating stories fascinated you. Buried deep inside your mind was the power to create different worlds for people to explore and escape to.

What started out as a simple pastime after studies grew and caught the attention of your school teacher. From there you wrote in local underwriters contests and dabbled in the underground poetry scene until you were eventually scouted out by a publisher. Three novels into an original series with a few standalone books on the side, you were quite a big deal within the YA fiction world. You got a taste of your dream and nothing would stop you.

With your recent book tour complete and the final recording for your third tv interview done, nothing was available to occupy your thoughts which meant it was fast approaching.

Writer's block. Every writer experienced it but the feeling always hit you the worst. By no means were you under a strict contract but as the months rolled by with no new book material, your manager expressed her concerns.

'You gotta give me something to work with, Y/n. I don't want your contract to lapse. Just a few pages! I'll take a novella draft at this point just.. please send me something to beta.' 

You loved Cindy. She meant well and had been the person who scouted you out of Fat Joe's coffeehouse back home and took a chance with you. She saw your potential and wanted to see it flourish. Her keen editing eye and patience for your slow updates made you two the perfect team. Add in the fact she was around the same age as you and boom, everything was golden. 

Who said your manager couldn't be your friend? 

You didn't want to disappoint Cindy but there wasn't any creative juices flowing upstairs. You moved to Gotham to have unlimited inspiration readily available but recently, nothing jumped out at you. The absolute worst case scenario would be getting a new book idea identical to your previous work. A consumer didn't want to read the same story told twice, much less by the same author. 

In time something would reach out and grab you, no need to force greatness. The Greeks Among Us came to you during a midnight stroll past the seedy GC Olympus nightclub in town and your best seller to date, Will Hunter Bill hit you in line at the butcher's market. 

Your loud exclamation in the store terrified a few people but when an idea hits, you tend to get excited. You purchased your meat and jotted down the storyline on the subway ride back home. Two weeks later, Cindy got five rough draft chapters dumped on her desk with the promise of more to come. 

You can't eat a steak anymore without smiling wide. That book was your David, your Mona Lisa- and you feared nothing else would top it's perfection. 

You wish you could pen another bestseller! Oddly enough your thriller hit started out as a flop until a few kids online created a cult following for it and made it mainstream. The true message for the story went over so many people's heads it collected dust on local bookshelves until the Mayor's wife was spotted reading it at her hair appointment. 

Before you knew it, copies were flying off the shelves and Cindy was begging you to write a sequel and boy did you deliver. Your hit series gained attention around the East coast and attracted all types of readers- even infamous ones.  

The Riddler used a direct quote for one of his deadly culling game traps, giving your publisher a liability lawsuit scare.

Then Two-Face was recorded giving his split review about it. He demanded justice for the book's murderers, going on and on about how they needed to be punished and given a fair trial. They were fictional characters! These psychopaths really knew how to test your patience. 

As long as people enjoyed your work that's all that mattered to you. Sure notoriety was great, the royalties were even better, but seeing a fan nose deep and distracted by your story that they couldn't spare a moment away, was worth the late nights spent toiling in front of your laptop. 

It was only natural that you wanted to give the people more material to read, however you knew your writer's block was fast approaching like a freight train. 

You so desperately needed a muse to fight it off. Usually a long walk through the city would spark the mood but it was too dangerous to go out on the weekends (or any day really, Gotham's crime did not rest) especially during the hours your insomnia kept you up. 

You could hear your friend Barbara now. "It's far too dangerous to be walking around at night Y/n! Have you lost your mind?" 

Cue you chuckling to mask your labored breathing. Of course you were out walking whenever she called. It seems she always caught you red handed. 

Barbara stayed up during late hours but you knew computer analytics usually worked at night. A phone call from her at 3AM was normal. Both of you were night owls so no feelings were hurt. 

"Don't worry Barbs! I'm uh.. on my way back right now. I'm walking up Hamilton street as we speak." 

You heard her fingers stop typing over the phone and knew the tongue lashing was imminent. Sometimes Barbara played the part of the 'mom friend' a little too well. Your real mother would be proud of the redhead. 

"Y/n. Isn't that like thirty minutes from your place?" She sighed and resumed her rhythmic tapping. "I'm gonna put a tracker on you one day."  

"Haha, don't be so overprotective Mom. It's not that far!" Little did you know Barbara considered bugging your phone numerous times with a bat tracker but she respected your privacy. 

Now she was regretting that decision. Maybe she could plant one on you at the next brunch you two planned. For now she would settle for keeping you on the phone until she heard your apartment keys jingle in the door. "Okay! I'm back home Barbara. Can I go now?" 

You didn't mind her nightly check-ins. Barbara was good people and a very close friend within your minuscule social circle. 

You didn't get out much and making friends wasn't your strongest suit but after you got lost at your own charity event (another mindless event to promote your first book in the series) and found Barbara talking with a very handsome guy in an empty corridor, the two of you instantly clicked and became fast friends. 

You apologized for intruding on their moment but Barbara waved off your apology and kept it moving. She introduced you to Dick Grayson and thereafter to the savior of Gotham himself, Bruce Wayne. 

Both men hid their relief when you didn't immediately worship the ground they walked on. In fact you didn't recognize their faces or make the connection as to who they were since you were far more fascinated by their matching lapel pins. 

"It's Will's family crest! Where did you get these?!" You gushed, only to be startled out of your fangirl moment by Dick clearing his throat. 

It jumpstarted your brain to notice your hands placement that was practically glued to Mr. Wayne's chest. From what you could feel and you felt quite a lot.. he was very buff for a rich businessman. Maybe he worked out to get the ladies? Anyways.. 

"Oh!" Your ears flushed red. "I'm so sorry! I'm usually not so touchy-feely with strangers. I guess I got too excited! I've seen a lot of fan merch but never one so detailed.." 

"Fan merch? I don't quite follow?" He questioned. 

"It's short for merchandise old man.." Dick chuckled in the background.

Barbara facepalmed and gestured your way. "Bruce, this is Y/n L/n, the author of Will Hunter Bill."  

It took Bruce two seconds to process their comments before he switched into his philanthropist mode. He became the one apologizing for not recognizing you and rambled on about how much he loved your work. You mentally checked out after that. 

"You.. you read my books?" 

His gentle laugh was soothing but it didn't compare to his smile. No wonder so many women fell for his charms. 

"Of course! The way you captured and deceived the audience for half the book only to discover that we the readers are responsible for the murders occurring in the book. It's simply genius. I encouraged all of my staff to read it in their downtime. People need to learn that their actions can influence others inadvertently, no matter how minuscule it may seem."

You soaked up his praise that day. No one summarized your book series so perfectly like Bruce did. 

Cindy appeared and tried to steer you away to mingle with other potential connections and sponsors at the event but you stayed with Mr. Wayne, "Please, call me Bruce." okay.. you stayed with Bruce and Barbara, the latter whom you already exchanged numbers with. 

Two hours passed and not a second of it was wasted with the deep conversation you and Bruce held. 

You didn't care about how your close proximity to Bruce was perceived. You were socializing and making new friends, all while talking about your passion for writing. Let the press have a field day. You would deal with the rumors later. 

The following months after the event gave you enough time to establish a close friendship with Barbara and Dick to call them on speed dial whenever. Be it a quick chat or a long conversation about absolutely nothing, they would answer but you didn't dare program Bruce's number into your phone. 

It was probably his main business number he gave you but the slip of paper sat like a stone in your purse for months after the event, taunting you. 

It didn't feel right calling up such a busy man just to chat. I mean.. what would you talk about besides your books? You two had nothing in common! 

Barbara teased you about it every chance she got. "Bruce rarely gives out his number to people so someone made a great first impression on him." 

You rolled your eyes, "Barb quit it. It's probably his work number, plus he's almost twice my age!" 

You two were sitting at a local restaurant that was handicap accessible, enjoying the rare occasion both of you were free. The humidity from outside fogged up the restaurant's windows but it was pleasant inside away from the rain. 

Her green eyes mimicked yours as she laughed. "Are you sure? Was the card black or slate grey?" She waited for your answer but frowned when you looked unsure. "What's wrong, you don't remember?" 

"It wasn't a card Barbara. He gave me a piece of paper with a number written on it." 

In total, only two minutes passed before you realized just how dumb you were. "Oh my God! Bruce Wayne gave me his personal cell number and I've been sitting on it for almost a year!"  

Your loud shout gained attention from the nearby tables but so did Barbara's howling laughter. 

"This isn't funny Barb!! I don't want the guy to hate me!" You whined. "Oh do you want him to like you?" She replied just as fast. 

"Gah! Here you are encouraging this behavior like a devil on my shoulder! What would my mother say if she knew that Bruce Wayne, of all people, was interested in me?" You tried to explain. 

"Congratulations?" Your glare only fueled her laughter. 

"Oh come on he's not that old.. and age gaps are becoming more popular if you're so worried." Was she trying to convince you or herself? "Look, I've known him for years and I highly doubt he noticed your lack of response with how busy he is and if he did, so what? Just tell him the truth." 

That was the point, you didn't want to accept the truth. It seemed impossible that Bruce Wayne, a successful billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist, in a league of his own, and drop dead gorgeous no matter his age, was interested in you. 

Not to discredit your own success but it didn't (and would never) match Bruce's. 

Despite being a popular author in your prime, until a movie producer came along your stories would be just that. Books on someone's bookshelf. Your fame would fade and so would the steady income. It was no wonder many authors never became wealthy from only their literature. 

Cindy tried to get you to schmooze with some silver screen board directors at the charity event but you choose to dissect your series page by page with Bruce instead. 

The way he talked about your characters and gave them more personality than you ever could had you starry eyed. You joked that he should write only to receive his deep chuckle. "I don't have the time but maybe I can commission you to pen a biography for me." 

You never blushed so much before. He trusted you of all people to write something so important? Surely he was joking. You discovered while talking with Bruce that he had a good sense of humor. 

You hoped your words didn't insult him. "Well I would need to study you and your life in detail to make it authentic. And no offense Mr. Wayne, but that would take quite a bit of time.. time you don't have." 

He smiled at that. "That's true but," Bruce brought his glass up to his lips as if you weren't waiting for his response with bated breath. "I thought I told you to call me Bruce, Y/n." 

"Oh right um B-Bruce. I'd love to write your biography but the matter of time in which to study you is still an issue." 

Instincts should have warned you. Common sense all but threw it in your face but in that moment you didn't put the puzzle pieces together. Bruce liked you. 

He reached out to tuck a wayward curl of hair behind your ear. His fingertips left a slight burning sensation on the curve of your ear and it made your entire body freeze up. 

"Ask of me anything. I will defy my own will to grant your desires." Bruce cited with a confident grin. 

"Did you just quote.." You were beyond speechless.

No one quoted The Greeks Among Us to you before. It was the second book of your oeuvre and the most neglected due to its Greek mythology and ambiguous ending. The fact he quoted it perfectly and from memory confirmed that Bruce was truly a fan of your work. 

"I can make time for you, Y/n. Do you have a pen and paper?"  

You nodded robotically. A writer without a pen and paper wasn't worth her salt. The tiny clutch you carried was bottomless; a sticky pad was given to Bruce along with your favorite ballpoint pen. He jotted something down and handed everything back to you while ignoring your eyebrow dipping in confusion.

"Call me whenever you're ready to begin." He was going to flirt a bit more but Dick appeared and whispered something in Bruce's ear. 

From the dark look that schooled his features, whatever he was being briefed on wasn't good. 

Bruce left you with a warm smile and a suggestion, more like a command, to call the night short and go home. You were tired and Cindy was busy rubbing shoulders with the stiff suits on your behalf. You weren't needed here so you took Bruce's advice and went home.

Little did you know not even five minutes after you left the party, it was robbed by local criminals looking to strike it rich. An unfortunate but normal occurrence that happens in this city. Another thing its citizens simply adapt to.

You on the other hand were still new to Gotham. Next month would be your one year anniversary of moving to this living hell. But your dreams were possible here. You could live a relatively normal life surrounded by your books. The very stack of books you almost tripped over while dancing.

You quickly corrected your balance to avoid a nasty fall and decided to stop dancing for now. Everything was all fun and games until someone got hurt.

The rain was still beating against the windows outside. During your deep reflective thoughts the rain had picked up from its light drizzle to the steady downpour you had predicted earlier.

Johnny Charisma was now crooning in your apartment and your tote bag was still lying open on the couch waiting for more items to be shoved inside. 

You blinked rapidly trying to remember what you were doing before your brain went down a rabbit hole but came up short. You shook your head but in the process you spotted the breaking news banner on your tv. 

It wasn't unusual for you to keep it on as you worked kinda like a much needed break for your overworked eyes.

As if the tv screen was any better than your laptop but with the tv muted your brain had space to think unrestricted. You found the tv remote and raised the volume. Immediately the news anchorwoman's voice flooded the room.

"...The Joker has once again escaped from Arkham Asylum custody and is at large at the current hour. We do not have any leads as to how he escaped the infamous island but police personnel are once again advising all citizens to shelter in place until he is arrested, effective immediately. We are uncertain of how long the curfew will last but we can confirm The Joker has killed six people during his escape. Commissioner Jim Gordon has not responded to any comments about the Asylum employee in critical condition but we will update you if he does. All of us here in Gotham expect to see Batman's signal in the sky tonight and in the many nights to come. Reporting live from GCN.."

You muted the tv coverage. Great. Just wonderful! Another curfew for the city in fear, all over a clown. When would your fellow citizens begin to see these criminals for what they truly were, normal human beings crying out for help?

Maybe because you were an optimist or perhaps just touched in the head, but you had no fear for these so-called criminals who tormented the city. Blüdhaven was far worse. It housed the rejects of Gotham trying to restart their lives.

Your neighbors growing up were serial killers. You went to school with their children. Most of your family members still had active lives in crime and your old unpublished work was based off of their stories. Crime was all around you growing up, so what was the purpose of a curfew for just one person?

So what if Joker was running wild in the city? The odds of you meeting were lower than one percent.

Although you did need groceries.. so it might bounce up to 0.5 percent if you took a trip to the store.

Whether it be a natural disaster, normal grocery shopping, or a current shelter in place curfew, Gotham citizens always stocked up like Armageddon was coming. The shelves would be empty by dinnertime if you didn't go now.

Another glance out the window made you sigh. "My hair is gonna get wet." At least the rain would buy you some time before the rush hour crowd clocked out from work.

You groaned but shuffled to your kitchen while grabbing a pad of paper to make a quick list. You had the basic kitchen essentials like milk, bread, and eggs but if this writer's block was anything like its counterpart from the beginning of the year, you needed a plethora of snacks to hold you over.

Since it was Thursday you jotted down ingredients for a hearty, rainy weekend dinner and wrote down a few other things you were low on. Drinks, chips.. ingredients to make some homemade desserts and hopefully they stocked up on your favorite fruits to make a fruit bowl. Your tiny list quickly grew but you rather be safe than sorry. Of course the city curfew was lax but you didn't feel like leaving the house anytime soon once you settled yourself indoors.

You needed to get motivated and start a new work. Not only to save your lapsing contract but for your own sanity. A day spent without writing felt like torture to you.

Your hands itched to type or research a source, anything! As the next song played on in the background, you ventured to your room to get dressed for the rain.

Your closet was a treasure trove of finds ranging from foreign designer threads, to thrift store overalls, to lazy day sweats, but today you decided on an off duty model look for your shopping trip.

You fished out your cobalt blue leather pants and your thigh high snakeskin boots, nodding at your vision. No oversized cloggy rain boots here, you stepped out in style.

The rain was a permanent feature here in Gotham but it never stood in the way of a killer outfit. A simple white crop top was added to your ensemble before you dug out your floor length puffer raincoat you bought on an urge. It was slate grey with blue undertones that would work perfectly with your bold colored pants.

Just because it was dull and gloomy outside didn't mean you had to be.

You twirled around in the mirror nodding to yourself at a job well done. All you needed now was some silver hoop earrings and a way to style your hair.

In its current state it was bound to get wet and curl up on you so you decided to rock the wild frizzy look until the wheels fell off. Wash and go's were another permanent fixture in your life. Hair day would have to be tomorrow; no more putting it off.

With a final outfit check in the mirror your tote bag was thrown over your shoulder along with your phone being shoved into its designed side pocket.

Your list was tucked away from the rain and you locked your apartment before riding the elevator down to the front lobby and making small talk with a neighbor as they walked by.

"It's another rainy one huh?!"

They were soaking wet and that made you cringe and open your umbrella as you walked outside. The rainfall was steady. Could be worse, but you took it in stride.

The congested sidewalks and honks from taxi cabs to the distant police sirens in the city were background noise compared to the loud pitter patter of rain. It had a way of hogging all of the attention as it washed over the city and drowned out the hustle and bustling noises of Gotham. A peaceful reprieve in the city of crime.

You boarded the subway without any issues. Your puffy coat and umbrella shielded you from the rain unlike the other passengers you spotted on your way to the station. Gotham citizens either chose to shield from the rain or to embrace it.

The ones who chose to embrace the weather were in various states of wetness. Some were bone dry like you or soaked completely through but most were in between, neither wet nor dry.

It made no sense to expose yourself to the elements, possible illnesses, and overall discomfort simply because you didn't want to carry an umbrella.

It was Gotham; a little rainwater wouldn't kill ya but a random citizen most definitely would and probably enjoy themselves while doing it. The city you moved to...

A calm feminine voice announced your stop. You hadn't moved from your standing position by the door and you were the first person out when the subway doors slid open. Living in Gotham for almost a year educated you on the tips and secrets necessary to stay safe.

Every adult has their favorite grocery store where they memorized the store layout and/or knows the butchers and other workers. That was normal right?

If not, you didn't care. This store was a little on the pricier side but their selection of food was worth it.

You entered the store, shaking your umbrella dry before sliding it into the storage area; a normal amenity in a rainy city like Gotham. Upon paying the small renting fee for a shopping cart, you pushed it around the front of the store as you dug out your shopping list and pen.

"Don't look at the fresh flowers, Y/n. You don't need any more flowers.. stick to your list!" Although you fought temptation, you still ended up in the florist section browsing through the vast options.

Your mind was working overtime to save you from your impending writer's block. Dancing around the apartment didn't work so it moved onto buying pretty things with the hopes of baking sweet treats if the flowers failed.

The florist saw your wandering eye and waved from behind the counter. "Hi Y/n! Care for your favorite bouquet?" She turned to get started when your undecided tone graced her ears.

"Nah, not today Morgana. Can you surprise me this time? I'm thinking something bright and whimsical to promote some motivation." You eyed the single stems on display and knew she would work her magic yet again. Morgana never disappointed you.

She smiled brightly. "Free creative reign?"

"Duh of course! I'm gonna shop around but I'll come back and pick them up when I'm done. Have fun; there's no limit."

From one artist to another you knew your words sparked the match in Morgana's mind.

Her brown eyes sparkled brighter than her smile. You heard her long ponytail whip through the air from how fast she turned to begin. She looked like a woman on a mission, already grabbing stems to form a base. You smiled and pushed your cart towards the produce section to start shopping.

Oddly enough, the shelves were still relatively stocked but you did beat the 5PM work crowd. You took your time and stuck to your list browsing through the options. You were debating between two packets of meat when your phone rang.

"Oh geez.. who could that be?" Dropping both packets inside your cart to free up your hands, you quickly answered your phone. "Hello?"

"Thank God you answered! Did you not get my text messages Y/n?!" Barbara's frantic voice sounded off in your ear until you pulled it back to check your phone. Lo and behold, ten plus messages increasing in worry from being ignored greeted you.

"Oops.." You scrolled through other messages as you waited for Barbara to scold you.

Sure enough, "That's it? All I get is an oops? Anyways.. I've been trying to reach you. Did you hear about the-"

You totally forgot you were in the grocery store. A sharp ahem drew your attention away from Barbara's phone call to a middle aged woman trying to get by with her buggy.

Your apologies meant nothing to her but you did your best to get out of her way. She snatched a whole chicken out of the bin and gave you the stink eye until she turned the corner. Who peed in her cereal?

"...Y/n? Y/n, can you hear me?!"

Where was your brain today? You scrambled back onto the phone. "Yes, I'm here Barbara! I'm at the store and this Karen caught an attitude. You were saying?" Her fingers missed a key creating a familiar noise. One you memorized by now.

"Does anyone honor my dad's curfew?" She sighed.

You added a packet of beef to your cart. "Nope."

"I see." Barbara said. "But people should be indoors where it's safe!"

It was your turn to sigh. Pushing your cart towards the non-perishables, you picked up a few boxes of baker's chocolate and stocked up on flour and sugar. "No offense Barb but when isn't The Joker free? I'm still relatively new to the city and I don't get the hype for a shelter in place. It's just one guy.."

"Who killed nineteen people in half an hour." Her rhythmic passes across the keyboard started up again and each key echoed loudly in your ear. Maybe you could gift Barbara a new keyboard for Christmas, preferably one with silent keys. The body count however had you confused so you asked.

"Nineteen?! The news said he only killed six."

"Y/n, my dad's the Commissioner. Please tell me you don't believe anything GCN reports? Let me guess, they used their favorite lie, "Commissioner Gordon has not responded to any comments, but hey we didn't reach out to him in the first place to receive such a response!" You kept quiet on your end.

"Your silence confirms it. I can't believe people will listen to GCN before they believe the words of my father, who is the Commissioner! Please go home, Y/n. At least for me? I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt." Barbara mumbled.

You came to a stop in the middle of the store. Her words touched you deeply for you never had a friend growing up that cared about your safety. You led a lonely life but you were slowly opening up and letting people in it.

"Awww love you too Barb! I'm almost done shopping. I promise I'll head straight home. Remember my contract lapse is creeping up so I really need to get into my writing mode and produce something. I promise I won't be going anywhere until Joker is captured or I have a book idea drafted."

You turned down the snack aisle and selected various goods to join your growing cart. Somewhere in between your phone call with Barbara you did away with your list and got whatever you wanted.

Sure you might have some trouble carrying it all back home but you needed more food than what you originally planned.

Who knows how long recapturing Joker might take but you knew it would take even longer for you to draft a story with your current uninspired mind.

"Thank you Y/n. I can work in peace knowing you're safe."

A few more pleasantries were exchanged over the phone before you and Barbara hung up. The rest of your shopping trip went by uneventfully and you purchased your items including the fresh cut flowers that Morgana arranged. She was nervous about your reaction which was completely unnecessary. You would buy thorns and dead roots if she arranged them, the woman was a genius.

A beautiful bouquet of white roses coupled with ivory and lavender mixed elegantly between thistle leaves and blue snapdragons. She added Veronica's and purple scabiosas to round off the display. It looked and smelled delightful. You hoped it would liven up your apartment and boost your creativity.

You declined the store's offer to help deliver your purchases to your residence, (you weren't poor, but definitely not rich enough to afford the tab) and heaved the four heavy bags, two in each arm, with your umbrella hoisted in your grip out the store. Your flowers were wrapped in brown kraft paper and tucked securely in your tote bag. It was a struggle, but you made it back home without getting robbed, soaking wet, and without dropping and/or losing anything.

The first thing you did when you stepped inside was turn on your record player for background noise to unpack to.

Everything had a place and slid neatly into it. Your flowers survived the trip although being slightly smushed on the subway ride. No major damage, so you trimmed the stems before giving them a proper home in your favorite flower vase.

From your writing desk you could smell their sweet aroma. You opted to move your work space from your spare guest room out to the living room to give you the perfect view out the floor length windows you loved so much. The people walking in the park outside and on the city streets below allowed your mind to wander and take a break while you typed.

You loved your apartment's layout and so did Barbara the many times she came over. The open space was ideal for her wheelchair and she was also a big fan of the bright yet cozy aesthetic your place showcased.

Speaking of the redhead. Now that you were fully settled, you sent a text to Barb letting her know you were safe.

An immediate buzz announced her thanks along with a promise to try and check in with you later. She mentioned being super busy tonight and that might impede her promise but she would try her hardest to honor it.

No worries! If not we can talk tomorrow :) 

You hit send and tossed your phone onto the desk. A vanilla beeswax candle was lit and a bowl of snacks from the store sat to the left of your laptop with a drink. The scene was set and with you tucked away inside from the rain, all you needed to do was start writing.

. . . . . .

But nothing came. A few hours had passed in your failed attempt at writing. Staring at the empty word document, the cursor blinked slower than normal as if taunting your lack of progress.

You didn't type a single word but the entire bowl of snacks was gone. Your candle was halfway burned through and the rain outside had let up to its original light trickle.

"This is going nowhere." You said.

You buried your face in your hands and groaned. "Focus, Y/n! Pull ya self together. No need to flesh out an entire story. All Cindy needs.. no, all I need is an idea. The rest will come later. It always does."

You glanced over at your mood board hoping for a spark. The designated white wall was devoid of clippings or other media of art. "Oh, I didn't update that." You picked up your phone only to see the low battery alert staring back at you.

"That's what I get for not charging all day." You inserted the charger into your phone, holding back a few frustrated tears.

All your normal avenues of inspiration weren't working all except for one. You were tempted but you promised Barbara you wouldn't.

You promised you wouldn't leave the apartment until you started a rough draft. Although you couldn't start a story you weren't motivated to write. The loophole presented itself.

A quick glance at the clock made you cringe. It was well after midnight but this was your golden hour. What harm could a ten minute walk do? You could walk a few blocks down to Repp Street and be back before anything dangerous happened. But you did make a promise…

"No walking around the city at odd hours of the night" but what Barbara didn't know wouldn't kill her. You needed a walk to clear your head and get the gears upstairs back a turning. Nothing bad would happen! As a writer you should've known better. You probably just jinxed yourself. 

Regardless if something did happen, you made an executive decision to go anyways and blew out your candle before shuffling over to your rain boots.

You put them on along with your puffy grey jacket from before and stepped out of the apartment. Your keys were still in your pocket so you walked down the hallway to the stairwell.

You didn't share the floor with anyone but Ms. Langstrom downstairs was adamant she could hear you walking back and forth at night. The old scientist forgot there was a whole maintenance floor separating you from everyone else. It was one of the many pros of owning the penthouse.

A con was the elevator didn't run this late. No matter how much the rent was in this middle-upper class building, they put restrictions on its hours of operation.

Just a short walk you told yourself, (the eleven flights of stairs didn't count) a couple of blocks around the corner, and then back, that's it.

It didn't dawn on you that you left your phone charging on your desk or that your alleged two blocks turned into a full walking exercise over the bridge to Somerset and into Chinatown.

You never walked this far on foot before but with your scattered brain the distance was nothing. The smell from the Chinese street vendors and restaurants wafted in the air, clearing up your thoughts and stimulating your imagination.

You haven't penned a historical fantasy book yet. Warm wonton soup, splashes of calligraphy ink across stark white ancient scrolls, and the distant twine of an Erhu played, on or was that sirens?

Sure enough you broke out of your trance to the sound of police sirens in the distance. Six GCPD cruises flew down the street giving you a mini heart attack but you were grateful for the distraction.

"Wait, how did I get here?" You looked left and right taking in your surroundings. It seemed only a few minutes had passed when in reality, it was almost two hours.

Red, yellow, and purple neon lights in traditional Hanzi characters flashed on every building and colorful streamers hanging from the rooftops enclosed the street, giving it a cozy and intimate feeling. It was a town of color vastly different from the bleak streets of Gotham. Ornate dragon statues stared back at you behind piles of trash and strings of red paper lanterns shined brilliantly from the rainstorm.

Inspiration was all around you waiting to be documented. You had an idea. Right now. You patted your pockets for your phone to jot them down, but froze.

"Where? Oh no. No no no no!!" If you didn't write this idea down it would fade away with no hope of returning. Where is your phone?! 

A vision of your sought after device charging at home popped in your mind. "Dang it!" Just your luck you forget to bring it!

In your anger you didn't notice the approaching figure. You kept searching through your empty pockets, (like that would do you any good) right into the stranger.

Somehow in the tumble his, or was it your balance, gave way and both of you crashed onto the pavement. Thankfully a few trash bags cushioned your fall, thus staining your coat, but that was the least of your worries.

Hovering above you was Gotham City’s worst nightmare: The Joker. Up close he wasn't as scary as the media painted him out to be. What terrified you the most was the 9 mm digging into your forehead.

It clicked off the safety right as his voice warned you.

"Make any noise and I'll blow your pretty little head off." His other hand gestured wildly to mimic your brain exploding before righting his balance above you.

You nodded as police dogs barked loudly and pulled their owners past the alleyway you and Joker fell into. Was it a blessing they didn't find you or a curse? More sirens and shouts rang out, getting closer and closer. Maybe you would stand corrected.

"This way!" One officer yelled while leading the rest. A helicopter circulated above and flooded the area with light yet it narrowly missed the two of you as you hid in plain sight.

Joker's body weight pressed you further down towards the pavement almost like he heard your thoughts. He couldn't afford to get caught and he was pleasantly surprised you were keeping quiet as the police personnel went by.

Usually his hostages would be sobbing uncontrollably by now or babbling nonsense in their delirium. He definitely would have shot them for it but you? You were different.

You remained calm although he felt the way your heart beat wildly in your chest but that could all be chalked up to the normal adrenaline rush after a jog. Joker glanced down at your attire and knew that wasn't the case. You were dressed like a rich spoiled brat caught in the rain. Snakeskin boots and leather pants? Were you asking to get mugged?

He chose to ignore how your pants hugged your figure… and what a figure indeed..

You breathed a sigh of relief or perhaps of regret when the helicopter and police left the area. Joker berated himself for checking you out and not paying attention to the search party. For a moment everything was quiet until you remembered Joker was practically lying on top of you.

You also remembered his threat from earlier and dutifully kept your mouth shut but it was getting uncomfortable as the minutes passed.

Was he gonna leave and do whatever wanted fugitives did in their downtime? Your weekend was free but that didn't mean you had all night to spend lying in some dirty alley.

The one time you leave the apartment without your phone you would run into the very person the entire city wanted to avoid. Whatever happened to your one percent chance rate? The one time you didn't shelter in place.. this would happen!

Your annoyed sigh got Joker's attention. His hooded eyes flickered over to you and scanned your features.

You were definitely something to look at but he was a busy man. He couldn't get distracted by some normal citizen with a pretty face. Since when was the last time he admired a girl simply for her looks and not by her usefulness as a hostage? Well currently you were a hostage but he felt no urge to kill you. Yet.

There were other ways you could be useful. Joker shifted his weight and even with his high tolerance for pain he couldn't hold back his low groan

The unexpected noise made you blink and break his orders. "Um.. are you okay?"

Silence. 'Well duh. What else were you expecting, Y/n? A response?'

He didn't pull the trigger or reprimand you so you pressed your luck again but right as you parted your lips to speak, he rolled off you. Was it wrong to miss his weight on you? Were you finally losing it? He did feel kinda nice– warm and solid, smelling faintly of rain and gunpowder, a shockingly good combination.

You watched as he awkwardly fell onto his side next to you. If he didn't want to answer your question fine, but you knew something was wrong.

Joker's gun was no longer pointed at your forehead, allowing you to sit up and search for the cause of his grunt. The red glow from Chinatown illuminated the narrow alleyway that you and Joker rested in and upon first glance, he looked fine.

The GCN’s news prioritized the deaths and injuries of the Asylum workers but failed to report Joker's condition. Not like anyone cared but somehow in his escape he sustained some kind of injury.

Laying on his side you noticed he favored his left leg more and now that you got a closer look at him, you saw that he was bleeding.

"Oh um you're bleeding!" Your head snapped up hearing his sarcastic laugh, though it sounded more winded than it usually did on tv. "As one typically does when.. ah shot."

"Y-You've been shot? Where? How did you run from the cops with a..."

"Ahtttt." Joker waved his gun in your face. That was one way to end a conversation.

Here you were trying to be a Good Samaritan and forgot who you were talking to. "This isn't my first rodeo toots. It's just a scratch." To prove his point, Joker jumped to his feet, scaring you with his agility before rightened his suit jacket and looking ready to leave.

You almost believed his act until his leg buckled under its own weight when he tried to walk away. You sprung into action and caught him– well you kept him upright, the wall behind you did most of the catching.

Joker's appearance was tall and lanky but as you held him up you discovered the truth. He was all muscle underneath his tailored suits and haunting visage. You didn't know how to process that new information and wisely steered the conversation elsewhere.

"You need a doctor." You huffed out. Your face was so close to Joker's that you saw his tongue dart out to lick the outline of his grease paint.

"No, I don'T." He stressed the t in don't.

You noticed that Joker articulated certain words to get his point across during his theatrical conversations and deep monologues. As an author you found his speech pattern very intriguing but right now he was being stubborn. "Yes you do."

"Hmm. Me and my.. uh primary care doctor never quite goT along. Let's just say.. he's no longer accepting new patients, if you know what I mean." You did. This was the infamous Joker you were talking to. The physician was probably dead and decomposing in the Gotham River.

But while that disturbing thought danced around in your head, the constant reminder that Joker still had his gun and most likely plenty of other weapons on him failed to deter your crazy decision.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you blurted out the invitation. "My apartment is in Old Gotham. Do you think you can make it that far?"

'Stupid stupid stupid! You have officially lost your mind!' Your inner self screamed after your suggestion. How dumb could you be inviting Joker to your place? This was not a tea party at a slumber party!

Joker was... well The Joker– a madman that killed because it was fun and you opened your mouth and invited him over. The awkward silence stretched on as you waited for his response or for your death. Whichever came first.

"Harboring a fugitive, are you sureee about that?" He asked. You could hear the grin in his words, slick like oil.

"Well, you do have me at gunpoint. I don't think I can just up and leave now can I?"

He let out a chuckle or was it a masked cough? Just how bad were his injuries? "Pretty and smart, I like that." He stood straight, taking you with him, and poked your rib cage with his gun. "Lead the way."

How the two of you managed to walk from Chinatown back to your apartment with Joker’s injured leg shocked you. Even at 2AM the streets were busy with people yet you kept to the backstreets and stayed in the darkness to avoid being spotted.

Joker cracked morbid jokes the entire walk back and when you two crossed the bridge over into Old Gotham, he quickly noted which direction you were leading him to.

"Now here I thought we were, uh, getting along. Care to ex-plain why we're headed towards GCPD?" You froze, feeling his gun dig into your side again.

Thankfully you stopped in an alleyway near Repp street.

Ironic, since this was your original stopping point for your walk but you kept going and ultimately landed in the mess you were in now. Supporting half of Joker's weight while being paranoid at being caught. The realization of how far you walked mentally and physically tired you out. Joker's gun was the last thing on your mind when you turned and snapped at him.

"My apartment is on Quinn street overlooking Grant Park. I'm not dumb enough to lure you to the police, Joker. It just so happens that I live in the same vicinity.

"Ah, so you're just dumb enough to help me. Gotcha."

You sighed and kicked off the building you were resting on. With your arm around Joker's waist and the other keeping his arm around your shoulder, you chose to ignore his insult.

"We're almost there. See?" You nodded up the street to a cluster of apartment buildings. "Do you see that white building with the all glass roof? That's my place, it's the next block over. C'mon."

Maybe the adrenaline rush helped or maybe you were that anxious to get home, but it felt like you teleported Joker to your apartment only to run into another problem. The lobby staff was gone for the day so you didn't have to worry about being outed. The problem was the elevator itself.

Joker noticed your hesitation and rolled his eyes. "What now? Aren't we going inside?" You made eye contact with the Prince of Crime and in your panic, explained.

"The elevator doesn't work at night." He licked his lips, giving you another flash of his tongue. He saw where your eyes dropped to and leaned in closer.

"Will that be a.. mmm, problem for us?" He finally had a moment to appreciate your fear.

A shame it wasn't directed towards him but he admired it all the same.

Your doe eyes took on a pinched edge and the color darkened a few shades as you tried to strategize. Oh but he loved your wild untamed curls that shook about your head. The humidity finally got a hold of them and he happened to like its chaotic state. Though he took an issue with the abuse you doled out on your bottom lip.

He tsked to himself and playfully slapped your cheek. You jumped at the contact. "Hey, hey. Look at me! There she is... Now, will thaT be a problem?"

"Y-Your leg... I live on the top floor."

You watched Joker sigh and crack his neck. It made for a scary sight and you knew nothing good would follow it. Imagine your surprise when he scratched his forehead with his gun (did he not value his life?) and shooed you with it. "Show me."

"Huh? Show you what?" Joker escaped your hold and stood on his own. "Uh.. the elevator, sweetheart."

"B-But.."

"Shhh shh shhhh." He cooed to you softly. "Trust me on this. I'm a man of many talents." His dark glare hinted to those many talents, some you didn't wish to think about..

You nodded and after glancing around for witnesses, ran to the front door with Joker hot on your heels.

You used the nighttime keycard to grant you access and the low hum of the door opening and then closing steadied your pounding heart. You looked over your shoulder seeing nothing but darkness himself patiently waiting for your next move.

Right the elevator. You walked towards the lift and sighed. "Like I said, it doesn't work after midnight. I'm sorry but we'll have to take the stairs."

"Gimme that." Joker said, already snatching your keycard out of your hand.

He flipped it over, inspecting the black device and then the lift and its power pad. You wondered how he was going to override the restriction but he was The Joker for a reason. In less than two minutes he cracked some invisible code and the elevator whirled to life on its way to come pick you up.

You lived here almost a year and never could get the lift to work after midnight. "How did you do that?"

The door chimed open waiting for its passengers, offering much needed light to the dark lobby however Joker adopted his sinister persona again and slowly backed you into the elevator. Your back hit the mirrored wall with Joker coming to a stop in front of you.

You were at a loss in front of his towering height. He didn't break eye contact with you as he stabbed the twelfth floor button on the panel.

Cornered. That's how you felt trapped in an elevator with Gotham City's deadliest criminal. His eyes took on a more greener hue in the artificial lighting and you couldn't look away. His black war paint was smudged a bit from his sweat and it bled into the white, and the distressed look made him even more menacing.

Once again your gaze dropped to his mouth where his scars were covered with red paint. It was probably the adrenaline still raging but you boldly lifted your hand up to touch them. That is until Joker grabbed your wrist.

He looked disappointed for a split second until he perked up with an eerie smile. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" He craned his neck, showing them off but your eyes flickered up to the elevator floor dial indicator flashing two.. three..

"Why won't you look at meee, hmm? Do they scare you?" You turned to Joker with furrowed brows.

"What? No, I actually like them. They remind me of the scars Bill gave.. was it Jess? No, Mallorie at the retreat lodge." You held back your laughter at Joker's deadpan look.

"I'm a writer. I-I write things, m-mostly books and your scars reminds me of a character I created in-"

"Will Hunter Bill. I should've recognized that face of yours. You're Y/n L/n."

Why did your name sound so alluring when he said it? You would think about that later, shock was hitting you full force right now.

"You know me?"

"Hmm." He pretended to think and curled a strand of your hair around his finger in the process. The elevator was slowly creeping up toward your floor but not fast enough. There was only so much of Joker in this close proximity that you could handle.

"You wrote… Distracted By Her Justice did you noT?" He put emphasis on his t's again. His pronunciation of certain words almost made you snicker but the words itself caused your brain to screech to a halt.

Distracted By Her Justice was the first novel you ever wrote during a small internship back home in Blüdhaven. Cindy had yet to discover you but she read the short story and hired you because of it. You then went on to write a few lesser known books and your current hit series WHB.

The fact Joker knew about Her Justice let alone read it horrified you. "How do you know about my first published work?"

Joker swayed on his feet but had enough energy to cup your face. His touch was gentle at first until he tightened his grip on your chin. His unpredictable mood swings scared you as the elevator grew closer and closer to your floor.

What did you get yourself into? You noticed his face paint also covered the inside of his mouth this close up. Maybe that was the reason he licked his lips so much? But why would he wear something that's uncomfortable?

Ignore the fact that you noticed. Seriously, what was your fixation with his mouth? You had other things to worry about like the way Joker sagged his weight on you between the 9th and 10th floor.

He sighed and pressed you more into the elevator wall. You didn't know it but Joker's energy was waning and fast.

Before he bumped into you, his henchmen were doing a terrible job at escaping the authorities. He broke out of Arkham around lunchtime but it took forever getting off the island and back to the mainland. They took refuge in an abandoned warehouse until an anonymous tip ratted them out. Joker's plan was to retreat back to Amusement Mile but GCPD were swarming the place awaiting his arrival. He hated being on the run and the pouring rain wasn't helping his mood.

Another move towards Otisburg resulted in a shootout with the police and although Joker lost a few of his men, he killed more of Gotham's finest.

Yet the shootout continued. Joker hated guns. They were too quick and he didn't get to savor a kill but he was wise enough not to bring a knife to a gunfight. His mind didn't register he was shot until a henchman pointed it out. It was more of a nuisance than anything, but he managed to escape with only three goons at the end of things.

Two would scout ahead while the other secured a getaway car. Joker waited an hour. Then two, but after three hours without the scouts or the getaway car returning, he knew he was alone. Police sirens in the distance made him laugh aloud. Gordon and his men were working overtime tonight.

If he wasn't sporting a nasty gunshot wound, Joker probably would have stayed in his makeshift hideout but he needed medical attention and fast. Wherever this bullet was lodged wasn't good. Perhaps a hostage could help in his situation but before he could scope out his surroundings, his location was compromised. The Canine unit had found his scent and forced him out of the warehouse and onto the streets of Chinatown.

'Head north towards West Mercy Hospital. Snatch a resident on their smoke break; anyone would do.' Joker knew his plan was foolproof but he didn't factor in his blood loss or you getting in the way.

He bumped into you and his remaining energy just gave out. He lost consciousness periodically during your interaction together but you didn't seem to notice.

He was a good actor after all and quickly took control of the situation. Joker was about to force you into finding him a doctor but you surprised him with your offer of staying at your apartment. He checked you out far too many times tonight; he knew rich people when he saw one. Paired with your naïve heart and generosity, this would be too easy.

Only problem? You weren't afraid of him or his dangerous personality, nothing scared you away.

Joker liked that. You were a challenge to crack and ultimately break. Being held at gunpoint shocked you at first but overtime your muscles relaxed and you didn't shy away from his presence, if anything on the walk to your place you snuggled up closer to him.

He noticed your stolen glances and how your eyes always wandered back to his mouth. You were intrigued by him. Like an innocent lamb trying to befriend the lion.

Joker didn't have any plans after escaping Arkham but riding an elevator up to one of his favorite author's place wasn't on the agenda.

He was a man of chaos but also of literature. Studying people's psyche and predicting their next move before it happened took a high level of intelligence. Joker didn't care for elaborate plans (okay maybe just a few) but he liked to be knowledgeable and reading literature regardless of the genre, helped him immensely.

He stumbled upon your oeuvre by chance and read your books in order. He enjoyed The Greeks Among Us for its ambiguous ending.

Would Thaleia embrace her hatred for her own people and annihilate them all or descend back to the human realm to die with her revenge unsatisfied? He loved how the reader got to pick which open ending to believe.

His favorite book of yours was Distracted By Her Justice. You dived deep into the social and political injustices within Gotham but covered up the controversial views by making the characters high school students learning about romance.

It read like a teen romcom but Joker and other like minded individuals knew better. Almost all of your books had a double meaning behind the flowery rom-com plot. He desperately wanted to meet you and talk about your philosophies but why would a normal citizen like you want to meet him? It would never happen.

Then you wrote Will Hunter Bill. Joker knew then you were a scholar under-appreciated in this era. And so young! He could only imagine what you would write as you matured. Your books were based on real life issues that were swept under the rug here in Gotham City and for once he thought someone would blow the whistle and expose them.

Standing in this elevator with you as your e/c eyes took him in, he felt ridiculous for thinking it, but you were probably the only person capable and bold enough to do it.

Unfortunately Joker lost too much blood and he wasn't thinking straight. You were nothing but a naïve little girl reaching out in horror to catch him. Wait..

"Joker! Are you okay?! Please say something!" Just a few seconds ago he was alright, (albeit lost in thought) and staring off to the side.

You knew he was looking at something beyond this elevator when his eyes rolled back and he began to fall.

You caught him for the second time tonight and with perfect timing. The elevator arrived at the twelfth floor of your apartment. The doors opened with a soft ding that gave your stomach butterflies.

You were finally home 

Just a few more feet and you would be at your front door. You took a deep breath and used the last of your adrenaline to adjust Joker's weight in your arms and half carried, half dragged the psychotic clown to your door 

Joker mumbled something inaudible as you fumbled with the key. He was resting on your pocket that held it but after some careful maneuvering, you fished them out. You got it through the lock and with a twist, a gush of cold vanilla scented air hit you before gravity worked its magic and he started leaning towards the floor 

"No no no turn left! Go left!" Somehow you guided Joker to your couch before he slipped into unconsciousness, leaving you alone with a wanted criminal in your apartment. Reality kicked in fast.

"Oh my God. I'm harboring a fugitive."

#ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #reader insert #black!fem!reader #batman #dc comics #smut #joker smut #slow burn #yandere #romance #angst #Long Reads #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on AO3 #his lighthouse

[one-silly-cart00nist]

Memory Lane [Velvet & Veneer]

Am I writing for Trolls? I guess so :'D Inspired by THIS fanart

Wordcount: 1.3k past bullying, hurt/comfort, mentions of canonical troll abuse

The cell is small and unceremonious. Cold most of the time. The space is empty, spare for a twin bed and a desk. White walls that could seriously use a wallpaper treatment but the torturing temptation to glamour this place up is probably part of the punishment. 

A guard shows up three times a day to escort them to the cafeteria and the showers. (Those are gross. No use without slippers.)

Overall it’s not that bad. 

Boring and dull. Sure. But honestly that’s a pleasant change from the hustle of fame. No schedules to attend to, no guilt crippling up your spine. 

He’ll miss the yachts, and the stylists, and the modelling gigs… but he’ll survive. 

His sister on the other hand… 

Velvet has fallen quieter ever since their sentence started. Once she finally accepted that making scenes won't get them out. He hated seeing her helpless but Velvet made it clear none of his attempts to play therapist will help. Not even a little “you’ll get wrinkles from frowning that much�� nor a little shimmy to the beat of their favourite songs. 

If anything, bringing up music made it worse. 

Which made sense… 

Veneer too wished it wouldn’t have ended this way. He wished it would have ended sooner, the ethical crimes at least. If Velvet listened and they tried practice maybe none of this was necessary. They could have just asked the troll to teach them to sing! 

On a rare night when Veneer felt courageous enough to speak up, he suggested just so. But Velvet burst out laughing like that was the best joke she’s heard all year and rolled her eyes. “Why bother asking if you can just take it?” 

Back then that was all it took. One word from her made Veneer bite his tongue and lower his head. Because she wasn’t that wrong was she—it was nice, all the wealth, all the positive attention. He wasn’t used to the latter. 

Veneer didn’t care about fame as it was, not until he tasted it at least. But who wouldn’t want attention? Who wouldn’t want the world to echo with praises to their name? 

That’s what she promised. 

°

°

°

Suburb house and dentists for parents. Not a pitiful life by any means. It still felt lonely spending half of their lives in school among kids who looked down upon them. At least they have each other. 

And sometimes that meant vibe checks at 1AM on the bathroom floor doing each other’s make up. Veneer’s favourite sibling bonding activity.

This time however the vibes were off. Deep blue. Less vibrant navy. 

Veneer could barely hold back hiccups, still too shaken to let go of the earlier events of that day. They were worse that day. Harsher than usual. Or maybe Veneer was just tired, weakened from the nonstop pushing and pulling, to have let them push him that far into the corner. 

“Are you gonna let him boss you around forever? Haven’t I told him off? Want me to bite harder next time?” 

Veneer shivers at the memory. Velvet’s teeth sunk into that guy’s forearm was terrifying but for wholly different reasons than what’s been going down beforehand. Now that he looks back it’s almost funny. “Geez girl you’ll get yourself expelled if you keep that up…”

“Perfect auditions backstory—kicked out of school, all hopes shattered but the humble dream of a star!” Velvet mused. 

“You’d have to survive mom’s lecturing first though,” Veneer teased her. A scoff is all he got in response, and the room fell quiet again. They’ve gotten quite loud with their conversation. If they don’t want to be caught here and now, they should tone it down. 

(And Veneer really doesn’t want to be seen like this—with eyeshadows and green nail polish. It’s a look for his own delight. For Velvet, when they pretend to be celebrities while they brush their teeth. For himself, to feel pretty.)

“Must I go to school tomorrow?” 

“Unless you want to be the one lectured…” Velvet echoes his own warning. 

“I’ll just get teased again…” 

He reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Velvet stops him, slapping his hand away, waving her own hand as a reminder his polish is still wet. 

“What a drama queen. Like I won’t. Do you see me complaining?”

“Well… yeah. All the time.”

“Gah. Cause they’re just being awful,” she groans and rolls her eyes while her hand flies mindlessly into the air, sprinkling a few drops of nail polish onto the tiles. Mom will kill them if that leaves a stain. Velvet doesn’t notice. “But we’re better than them! We’re better—than anyone. We’ll make them see.” 

She always sounds so sure of herself, so ambitious. It’s something Veneer has a hard time pretending. He’s grateful to have a sister like her. Someone to help him stand up on his feet and push him forward. Even if he doesn’t always see or like where they’re headed. 

Everything is okay with Velvet there. She’s always there for him.

When the kids at school make fun of his love for dancing, Velvet’s there. Words sharp like razors but pointed away from him. 

When he comes home crying. And shuts himself in the bathroom because they still share a room even at fourteen and he doesn’t want a confrontation. There isn’t a no confrontation option when your sister is Velvet, though.

She’s here. 

On the cold tiled floor of their bathroom, in the nook furthest away from the door where she’d lured him out from underneath the sink. She’s not even complaining about interrupted beauty sleep. 

She grabs his chin with the hand that’s holding the brush, turning his head. Her eyes are intense for a moment, distant like she’s not even looking at him. And then she softens, leans back. Pats his cheeks for good measures before she returns to the task at hand. “Wrinkles. You don’t want them, Ven.”

°

°

°

The world would see them and like them for a change. 

Veneer had to promise some things too: to stop crying at every mishap, to follow Velvet’s lead and never turn back. A compromise. 

First of many. Some more fair than the others. 

Guess there was a gradual change in attitude on her side throughout the years. Veneer wishes he would have noticed sooner. That he would have had it in himself to resist. But the truth is—he owes that part to someone else. 

They never asked for his name but Veneer thinks he caught it among all the chaos of that fateful Rage Dome performance. A troll named Floyd. Whom they have kidnapped, exploited, abused, and almost killed… Not proud of that one. 

Yet that little soft guy still spoke to Veneer’s heart in a moment of panic and desperation. Echoed words that were already there locked in the closet with everything else Veneer wasn’t ready to think about. Seeded a spark of hope. Not quite confidence, but close to it. 

How did a little guy like him see through Velvet better than her own brother…? 

Well he did spend months with them in the diamond prison. Must have heard enough. And he hadn’t known her at her best like Veneer did, so memories didn’t cloud his vision either. 

Who knows—maybe he had a sibling like her too and knew exactly what was going on. 

None of that matters anymore though. He did what he did. 

Veneer wonders if he’d have shared more wisdom, would they have had time. Would he have listened to him sooner. He almost regrets letting him free, but the keyword is almost. He looked so much happier hopping with his little friends than he was clawing at the perfume bottle walls. 

Too bad they got arrested right afterwards and Veneer hadn’t even had a proper chance to thank him. 

He hopes to meet him someday again. 

In better circumstances, but hopefully soon. 

#velvet and veneer #velvet trolls #veneer trolls #dreamworks trolls #trolls fanfic #he's my child </3

[yeoubye]

ANCIENT Femme Fatale — Vivian Durand

“Seductive eyes she'll keep you close.”

DETAILS.

This is set within the 1960s of Paris, France. This is supposed to have a noir-esque feel to it.

She was vaguely inspired by a song called Cravin’ by Stileto. Here are a few verses she was based off of.

Intoxicated can't recover

Seductive eyes I'll keep you close

Put your hand on my hips

Pull through your wrists

Pressed to these lips

Kiss I won't tell

BACKGROUND.

TW: Prostitution

Vivian was born alongside her twin brother, Vincent, during the middle of the Cold War. They were raised in America despite their heritage being French. It was a difficult time during then and the height of it all, her family only knew about famine. Vivian often had to go through torment just to get by, even going as far as to sell her body alongside her poor mother. Due to the famine, those that felt it worse had to resort to stealing from the wealthy. Vivian's family was the victim of this, as her mother and father had no choice but to put their lives on the lines for their children. This caused Vivian's parents to eventually lose their lives to a breadwinner's hunting dogs.

Vivian had very few options in her own life afterwards. She had few to rely on other than Vincent, as she grew more untrustworthy in others' humility. She has sold herself time and time again to men that she grew numb to life, unable to part ways due to the money she'd garner from it. In a last ditch effort, Vivian used up all her savings to move to France in the hopes that she'll never see her past in America ever again. Her own brother would stay in America, in which they'd write to each other often during the days.

During her time in France, she grew tireless in the ways she'd make money. It wasn't until a good friend of hers, Andy, introduced her to the risque life of art thievery. If she did well, she'd make millions—if not more. The idea of living in luxury was handed to her on a silver platter, making the act of thievery all the more attractive.

SYPNOSIS.

After a string of art thefts were publicized to the people of Paris, art galas have been made more aware than ever. Vivian is one of those many art thieves that pose as an art dealer at these extravagant events. She, too, is on edge about getting found out—especially considering they'd easily punish her for her many wrongdoings. You, on the other hand, is an undercover agent at one of these recent art galas after being informed that art thievery will happen tonight. You had already got a hint that Vivian is not who she seems to be and decides to go over, posing as an art enthusiast in the hopes she will show her true colors.

GREETING.

In the heart of Paris, the resplendent art gala buzzes with life as attendees gather for its grand reopening. Amidst the lively chaos, Vivian, adorned in a stunning gown, captivates the room, charming elite guests. A cunning art dealer, she has a penchant for seducing both high-society women and influential men to pilfer priceless paintings.

Unbeknownst to Vivian, you, attending undercover, recognized her signature methods from recent art thefts plaguing the scene. Your superiors had cautioned you about these reported individuals, given your history of rookie mistakes. Yet, you're intrigued by the challenge of capturing this elusive thief.

Before long, you stuck up a conversation with Vivian, posing as an art enthusiast. "Why come to me about artwork when there are plenty of experts around?" She mused knowingly, gesturing toward the sea of suited men in the room.

RESPONSE EX.

Her hand remained over her mouth, hiding the beautiful smile—possibly out of self-consciousness. Vivian could see the hue of red adorn the tips of her ears once she heard the sincerity. "I'm sure I can take one or two of them." Her hand fell, a small smile gracing her lips. Her gaze flickered towards Vivian, "may I address you more personally, Vivian?"

Vivian's smile turned subtle as she took notice of your embarrassment. She felt a strange thrill stirring inside her — was this your achilles heel? Your weakness? She tried not to let the feeling control her, keeping her cool and collected on the outside. Yet, something about you intrigued her on a level she couldn't explain.

"Of course... User." She replied back. As she uttered your name, it was done in an overtly seductive tone, almost as if an unspoken promise was behind it.

#1989ANCIENT #1989BOTS #YEOUBIPOST

[prpfs]

👾Hello! Im here looking for a specific plot!

(Preferable I'd play muse A, age doesnt really matter but if muse B can be a year or two younger or older, even better.)

Lakeside is a town near Winchester, you could say it's 'lost in time'. You often see a mix of fashion from the 80s all the way to the 2020s with no real set style. Along with this the phones and everything that comes with technological advances just doesn't seem normal. You've got phones that don't even look like anything we know of and TVs the size of a house. It's a somewhat weird world, but oddly enough it's still..somewhat grounded? People go to school, people work, people just live their lives in this odd town.

In this town resides muse A. Muse A to say the least is far from a saint, they're a senior in high-school (or starting college) but they're well known for the simple fact they had a gang of friends. Seems simple enough, like they just were having fun, but as time went on the town started disliking them and wanting to eject them from the town due to their antics, and how they know the gang progressively got worse. Muse A has a good heart, but have stolen money and done things to earn it so he could provide for his sister while keeping the inheritance from their parents to pay for her college and a bit for his own. Context aside, muse A never really felt love so much as lust. Cue muse B, an ex of his that got the closest to achieving that. A stereotypical rich girl with a brother Muse A tended to lock horns with; she was frankly manipulative. It worked simple, kiss the ground I walk on and I provide for you. She thought money was enough, that was her 'love'. She had been infatuated with muse A but frankly it just didn't work out because of her manipulative behavior and how she treated others as inferior. You'd think the break-up would be a wake up call, but instead she believed he'd change his mind at any point and take her back. Issue is? Her persistence while annoying, is working. Borderline obsessive, but Muse A doesn't want to go back to someone who he believes never really even loved him, and he doesn't want to use someone for their money.

What I look for in the story(ignore this if you'd like), is pretty much a feeling of not wanting to go back to something he knows isn't really good for him while dealing with anger issues that turn his gang activities from innocent(like the T-birds from grease) to more criminal-like while using the reasoning of his sister for it; and Muse B wanting to return him to where she believes he belongs. Whether she changes or not is entirely up to you. Maybe she *didn't* love him and just liked having someone attractive around to worship her, or maybe she did love him and just can't help be manipulative and believe money *is* a love language that Muse A would like. The rp doesn't have a set direction it'll go in and just depends on your interpretation and my own when it comes down to when we write.

- I am very open minded and I'd like to think I'm VERY friendly! I often do edits for my partners of both my character and theirs! Maybe even both together? Anyway! I also do spotify playlist and generally I'd like to think I show that I genuinely care for my roleplay partner and the roleplay.

- With that being said, I'd rather you not answer this if you believe you are way too dry or just don't like talking ooc, we won't mesh well!

- Another thing, I'm copy pasting this in several places but for the places that don't have an age limit, I'm specifically looking for 18+ people.

- Here's where some of you might just be driven away. I'm M, and while I would love to double up if necessary(my specialty mayhaps?), if not doubling up in almost any case I'd be playing a male character. I feel perfectly comfortable playing a female character but I'd want to use a guy unless it's double ups.

- For my side I'd like MxF or MxM only if the male is feminine. I'm NOT trying to fetichize a certain demographic of men, I simply have a preference for a certain style of clothing and/or femininity. However for your side? I'll play anyone and anything in any pairing. I'll happily be the girl of your dreams! Pause..?

- I'm big on this one, I'll try and summarize because this ask is already long enough! I love character and worldbuilding. I gush about it and I'm pathetically enthused with the idea of the world being more than just our characters. Likelihood is, there'll be more than just our two (or four if doubling) characters!!

- I'm literate to novella, but I don't demand perfect grammar or 4k character responses. I only ask for a minimum of 500 characters(letters-?) Per response to give me enough to work with and enough to gush about.

- I'm patient! But! I'm looking for decently active partners that'll respond atleast..I dunno? 6 times a week? If you could do much more or everyday, hell that'd be lovely. I have a life too so trust I know shit can get hectic, but I'm not looking to rp once every 3 days for 10 minutes. If you get busy though? Let me know, I wont ditch you like that!!

- Realistic fcs!

Like this and I'll reach out! We'll be roleplaying and discussing on discord!!

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

#oc roleplay #oc rp #oc x oc #m/f #m/m

[darkrpfinder]

👾Hello! Im here looking for a specific plot!

(Preferable I'd play muse A, age doesnt really matter but if muse B can be a year or two younger or older, even better.)

Lakeside is a town near Winchester, you could say it's 'lost in time'. You often see a mix of fashion from the 80s all the way to the 2020s with no real set style. Along with this the phones and everything that comes with technological advances just doesn't seem normal. You've got phones that don't even look like anything we know of and TVs the size of a house. It's a somewhat weird world, but oddly enough it's still..somewhat grounded? People go to school, people work, people just live their lives in this odd town.

In this town resides muse A. Muse A to say the least is far from a saint, they're a senior in high-school (or starting college) but they're well known for the simple fact they had a gang of friends. Seems simple enough, like they just were having fun, but as time went on the town started disliking them and wanting to eject them from the town due to their antics, and how they know the gang progressively got worse. Muse A has a good heart, but have stolen money and done things to earn it so he could provide for his sister while keeping the inheritance from their parents to pay for her college and a bit for his own. Context aside, muse A never really felt love so much as lust. Cue muse B, an ex of his that got the closest to achieving that. A stereotypical rich girl with a brother Muse A tended to lock horns with; she was frankly manipulative. It worked simple, kiss the ground I walk on and I provide for you. She thought money was enough, that was her 'love'. She had been infatuated with muse A but frankly it just didn't work out because of her manipulative behavior and how she treated others as inferior. You'd think the break-up would be a wake up call, but instead she believed he'd change his mind at any point and take her back. Issue is? Her persistence while annoying, is working. Borderline obsessive, but Muse A doesn't want to go back to someone who he believes never really even loved him, and he doesn't want to use someone for their money.

What I look for in the story(ignore this if you'd like), is pretty much a feeling of not wanting to go back to something he knows isn't really good for him while dealing with anger issues that turn his gang activities from innocent(like the T-birds from grease) to more criminal-like while using the reasoning of his sister for it; and Muse B wanting to return him to where she believes he belongs. Whether she changes or not is entirely up to you. Maybe she *didn't* love him and just liked having someone attractive around to worship her, or maybe she did love him and just can't help be manipulative and believe money *is* a love language that Muse A would like. The rp doesn't have a set direction it'll go in and just depends on your interpretation and my own when it comes down to when we write.

- I am very open minded and I'd like to think I'm VERY friendly! I often do edits for my partners of both my character and theirs! Maybe even both together? Anyway! I also do spotify playlist and generally I'd like to think I show that I genuinely care for my roleplay partner and the roleplay.

- With that being said, I'd rather you not answer this if you believe you are way too dry or just don't like talking ooc, we won't mesh well!

- Another thing, I'm copy pasting this in several places but for the places that don't have an age limit, I'm specifically looking for 18+ people.

- Here's where some of you might just be driven away. I'm M, and while I would love to double up if necessary(my specialty mayhaps?), if not doubling up in almost any case I'd be playing a male character. I feel perfectly comfortable playing a female character but I'd want to use a guy unless it's double ups.

- For my side I'd like MxF or MxM only if the male is feminine. I'm NOT trying to fetichize a certain demographic of men, I simply have a preference for a certain style of clothing and/or femininity. However for your side? I'll play anyone and anything in any pairing. I'll happily be the girl of your dreams! Pause..?

- I'm big on this one, I'll try and summarize because this ask is already long enough! I love character and worldbuilding. I gush about it and I'm pathetically enthused with the idea of the world being more than just our characters. Likelihood is, there'll be more than just our two (or four if doubling) characters!!

- I'm literate to novella, but I don't demand perfect grammar or 4k character responses. I only ask for a minimum of 500 characters(letters-?) Per response to give me enough to work with and enough to gush about.

- I'm patient! But! I'm looking for decently active partners that'll respond atleast..I dunno? 6 times a week? If you could do much more or everyday, hell that'd be lovely. I have a life too so trust I know shit can get hectic, but I'm not looking to rp once every 3 days for 10 minutes. If you get busy though? Let me know, I wont ditch you like that!!

- Realistic fcs!

Like this and I'll reach out! We'll be roleplaying and discussing on discord!!

.

#oc rp #oc roleplay #fandomless rp #fandomless roleplay #mxf #mxm #rp search #dark roleplay #dark rp #18+ mun

[abyssmarked]

i thought it might be fun to write out my headcanon dynamics for neph and the companions in her party ( this is solely based on my playthrough and doesn’t necessarily reflect how neph feels about any of these muses in threads i might have with anyone, and neph’s feelings about companions also don’t reflect MY personal feelings of said characters, i promise i actually really like gale. ).

astarion ; nepharia started manipulating him from the beginning, very quickly picking up on the fact that he was doing the exact same thing to her. after each of them realized that the other was being disingenuous, and only using the other, desperately seeking someone they could trust in these stressful and dire times— an actual bond began to form. a trauma bond, mostly, opening up about their time as slaves to people more powerful than them. nepharia encouraged his hunger for power, just as he did her — they were partners, but ultimately realized they needed a friend more than a lover in the other. eventually, she helps him ascend.

shadowheart ; the cleric’s secrecy and incredibly reserved demeanor bothered nepharia none, because she didn’t want to talk about herself either. she didn’t want to reveal to anyone the true nature of what she was, lest they not trust her, or worse, leave her alone to deal with everything by herself. she respected shadowheart’s privacy, and never pushed for information that wasn’t willingly given. now with shadowheart, though— nepharia convinces her not kill the nightsong, not because she didn’t want to see shadowheart get the things she wanted, but because she knew that their next battles would be far more difficult without a powerful demigod on their side. neph even helped save her parents. :’) i like to think these two are close.

lae’zel ; the way lae’zel would compliment neph’s brutality in battle is what made this demon really like lae’zel. having lae’zel in combat was always such great motivation. and scary devil though neph may be, she knew better than to get on lae’zel’s bad side. did she think she stood a chance in a fight against her? honestly, it’s a 50 / 50 in the succubus’ mind, but only if she was in her true form. out of it, she stood less of a chance.

minthara ; as much as nepharia loves dabbling in her fair share of vicious and brutal bloodshed, releasing those atrocities on innocent refugees certainly wasn’t the succubus’ idea of a fun time. but it was the safer choice, better than going up against the entire goblin camp and risk blowing her cover as an unsuspecting tiefling, or worse, dying. she doesn’t reciprocate minthara’s advances at camp that evening, and not because she didn’t find minthara— intriguing, something about her immediately made nepharia curious. what was a woman who wields so much power and authority in the sound of her voice alone doing with a charge of… goblins? and why attack meaningless, minuscule tieflings, when she seemed so very capable of so much more than that? nothing about it seemed right, but nevertheless, the image of dead tiefling children etched into her mind was enough to kill any sensual mood, even for a succubus. it’s not until they meet again at moonrise towers, when nepharia smells the sheer terror and helplessness coming from the drow, that the devil for the first time empathizes with minthara. she’s known that fear, that helplessness. minthara becomes neph’s biggest motivator in every sense of the word, and encourages her to take control of her life again— she gives neph that fire back, that absolutely unhinged, feral drive that she lost long ago.

gale ; neph honestly almost didn’t pull him out of that portal as soon as she heard his voice, and then when she did, and he didn’t. stop. talking. she wanted to shove him back in. she resisted the urge for a very long time in the beginning to seduce and kill this man, the only thing really stopping her was the orb in his chest, not knowing whether or not it would kill them all off if she did. she found him unbearably sad and pathetic, but eventually— he does grow on her, as much as she’s annoyed by it, and she might not ever admit it. but he hated her guts for a while as well, especially after the grove raid…

karlach & wyll left the party. :’)))))

#headcanons. #idk this is just what’s happening for me in my game personally xD #thought it would be fun to write out and i was right

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 28: we might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now

Sacrifice + "You'll have to go through me."

4040 Words; Acrobat & the Spider

TW for the arachnophobic peeps, bc Gisu is a spider

AO3 ver

Raz still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lost.

He held out his map, looking out over the treetops for any recognizable landmarks. But it was nothing but more trees as far as the eye could see, the morning sun setting the sky aflame.

Raz groaned, dropping down to the next branch. He made his way down the tree, flipping from branch to branch before flinging himself to the ground. He softened the landing with a burst of levitation.

“Maybe I got the place wrong?” He was pretty sure this was the right area, though. Maybe he’d left camp in the wrong direction? It’d make sense, disheartening as it was.

Raz continued musing as he went, rolling along on a levball to move a little faster. It wasn’t too late in the morning yet, so he wasn’t ready to call it quits and head back home. Surely, if he kept going, he’d find something he could use to reorient himself.

It was dark still, under the forest canopy, the morning sun not yet high enough to fully pierce the gloom. But Raz had the light of his levball, and there wasn’t much that could really threaten him in these woods—bears were native, here, but Raz had dealt with telekinetic bears before, which were way worse. A regular bear was nothing to him.

At least, that’s what Raz kept telling himself.

Still, between his psi-blast and his levitation, Raz was fairly confident he could get himself out of whatever danger arose. Assuming any danger arose.

Raz continued along, passing through trees, trees, and more trees. The sun had risen high enough for dappled sunlight to start piercing the gloom in small shafts—his parents had probably noticed he was gone by now. Well, he had left a note this time, so it’d probably be fine. And besides, what he was after would make whatever grounding he got so worth it.

Raz hopped over a fallen log—

Oh.

That was different.

A wrought-iron gate stood before him, overgrown with vines and flowers. It was set in an old-looking wall with iron fencing along the top that was equally overgrown. A few birds were perched along the wall, all of them seeming to stare at Raz—probably just his tired mind playing tricks on itself.

But more importantly, Raz could see through the gate to the old mansion within the wall. The old mansion that might be a safer place to sleep than in a tree. The old mansion that looked open and ready to be explored.

Raz pushed his goggles down over his eyes. With a burst of levitation, he jumped, making it up atop the stone wall. Another hop, and he flipped over the old iron, coming to a levitation-softened landing down on the other side.

The whole yard was overgrown, with one massive tree in the center. Raz made his way past the various old decorations—a cracked birdbath with a puddle in it, some overgrown benches, a broken statue—and towards the building proper, anticipation rising the longer he went. This wasn’t on his map at all! Who knew what secrets it held?

Maybe even… psychic secrets!

Raz hopped onto the front step. He pushed at the door—it didn’t budge. Right. He readied a psi-blast—

“Wait, no, I probably shouldn’t break anything.” Raz decided. He was only here to explore and look around, after all. It’d be rude to break the door down, even if there was nobody inside to need it.

Raz backed off the front step, casting his eyes around—there! Second floor, an open window. Clambering up the side of the house was easy, and before he knew it, Raz was pushing at the window, trying it to open it further. It slid up after a bit of resistance, and Raz tumbled inside. He got up, and looked around—the room he was in was full of dust, sheets covering the furniture. He lifted the edge of one, revealing a wooden table on spindly legs.

“Cool.” Raz decided. He reached into his bag and pulled out his notebook, scrambling to write down all of his observations. This was so cool!

Raz walked through the doorway and out into the wall. The floor creaked under his boots—creepy. Which only made it cooler!

Raz poked his head into the next room—more sheet-covered furniture. Same for the next room, though Raz noticed a mirror in the corner that wasn’t covered.

Raz went over to the mirror. He could see himself clearly, no dust—

Ah.

“This mansion might not be as abandoned as I thought.” Raz realized. He should probably leave—

Something skittered across the floor in the hall. Raz rushed to the door, but the hall was already empty.

No, not empty—Raz heard heavy footsteps down the hall, and the sound of scraping stone. Even worse, the noise was coming from the direction that Raz had come from, blocking his exit. A figure came around the corner—

Raz darted down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him. The figure shouted, but Raz had already rounded the corner. Shit, shit, he needed somewhere to hide!

Heavy footsteps rang out behind him. No time! Raz ducked into the nearest room, going straight for the sheet-covered shape that looked most like a table. He ducked under it, glad to find that he’d guessed correctly. It wasn’t the best fit—curse his lanky teenage limbs—but Raz made it work, curling as small as he could.

“Sam, if this is a prank—” The heavy footsteps slowed to a stop out in the hall. The voice was undercut with the same scraping sounds that followed the footsteps, like whoever was talking was doing it though a mouth full of stone.

Raz waited. After a while, the figure receded, heavy footsteps continuing on.

Raz waited a little longer before emerging from his sheet. The room was just as empty as it had been before, the hearth at the back end of it cold and empty.

“Time to get out of here.” Raz muttered, walking out into the hall. He made to turn back the way he came, and started walking, this time listening out for that scraping stone sound.

Movement darted in the corner of his vision. Raz whirled around, but saw nothing of note. Just more hallway.

Okay, yeah, time to get out of the not-so-abandoned mansion. Raz picked up the pace.

Or he would have, if he could remember which way he came from. It had all been a blur when he’d ran down the hall at full speed, and now he couldn’t remember if he had turned left or right. He knew he had turned, so the right way probably wasn’t straight ahead.

Raz picked a direction, and started moving. The floorboards creaked under every other step, making Raz jump the first few times. The further he went, the more sure he became that he wasn’t going the right way—he didn’t remember this many cobwebs along the ceiling. It shimmered, even in the low light of the poorly-lit hallway, and it was only getting thicker the further Raz went.

Something squeaked.

Were the shadows moving?

Raz picked up the pace, making the first turn he saw. Even if he didn’t make it back to the original room, surely there would be another room with an open window, right? But Raz couldn’t see any door along the hall he had gone down—the only path was forwards.

Raz turned a corner, and froze in place.

Four segmented legs. A big furry abdomen. Four arms and four glittering eyes and two sharp-fanged chelicerae—

Raz stumbled back. The spider monstress blinked, staring at him. Her reflection—though it looked a lot more human, and differently colored at that—blinked as well, though it was out of sync.

“Well.” She said, “And what do we have here?”

Raz shot a psi-blast on pure instinct, flipping around as fast as he could. He darted down the hall—

And tripped over something small. Small and warm.

The fox he’d tripped over yelped, and Raz scrambled back before it could bite him. He backed up, moving to stand—

His back hit the warm fur of a deer. It stared at him balefully, making no move to get out of Raz’ way. Raz readied himself to leap up over it—

Four arms wrapped around him. “Got you!”

+=+=+=+=+

Dion muttered under his breath once he cleared the canopy, but he could only see more trees no matter which direction he looked. The sun was high above him in the sky, and exhaustion clung to every inch of him.

“So much for getting Raz back before our parents notice.” Dion grumbled, climbing back down. Sugarcube watched him descend, snorting when Dion’s boots made it to the ground. The dappled sunlight was just enough to see by down on the forest floor,

“We’ll just have to keep looking.” Dion said, grabbing Sugarcube’s reins. Even if there was no way for Frazie to keep covering for him, he’d still keep going. He’d gone this far, might as well go all the way and find his brother instead of returning empty-handed.

“What’s he even doing?” Dion grumbled. Oh, sure, Dion had done plenty of stupid shit at sixteen, too, but running away into the night? With a note saying “be back later”? Dion didn’t understand what Raz was even thinking. “He could at least leave a better note.”

Then again, it wasn’t exactly the first time Raz had run away. But they were all trying, dammit, and things were so much better than when Raz was ten and scared—

Dion shoved those thoughts away. With how casual the note was, Raz probably wasn’t trying to make a point, this time. Chances were he’d gotten an idea in his head and didn’t once think about the heart attack he was going to give to Mom and Dad by just disappearing overnight.

He continued along, trekking through the forest and calling out for his brother at regular intervals. The lack of sleep was starting to get to him—at least he’d remembered to grab some food and water before he left. Dion kept going through the trees, kept climbing over small bluffs and boulders and climbing up into the trees every so often to see if he could spot whatever Raz was trying to get to. The day stretched on.

Dion was really regretting not just telling his parents and going back to sleep, now. The whole point of going off after Raz was to find him and bring him back before their parents found out! Now Raz would definitely be in trouble, and all Dion had to show for it was aching limbs and way too many new bug bites.

“RAZ!”

No response. Of course. Dion hopped over a small ridge, Sugarcube hopping up behind him. He checked to see if she made it up alright, then turned to continue on—

Um.

That was new.

A small cliff face stretched out before him, covered in ivy and moss. Wait—cliff faces didn’t have wrought-iron fences atop them. And they weren’t usually made of bricks.

Okay, so there was just a random old wall in the middle of the woods… a surprisingly intact wall, Dion realized, walking alongside it. Wait.

Dion backed up, clambering up into the nearest tree. He didn’t need to go all the way up—he could see over the wall, now, to the old mansion on the other side. He jumped back down to the ground and looked at Sugarcube. “Think this is it?”

Sugarcube stared up at him. Right. Too bad Frazie wasn’t here—she could actually understand Sugarcube, in a way that Dion would never be able to.

Dion shrugged. There was no way Raz could see an abandoned building and not poke around. Especially something as unique as a mansion in the middle of the woods. Dion walked alongside the wall.

“RAAZ!”

No response. Dion continued to walk all along the wall.

“RAAAZ!”

No response. Dion continued, and found himself facing a wrought-iron gate. He cupped his hands around his mouth one more time—

“RAZ!”

…nothing.

Dion groaned, grabbing Sugarcube and hefting her onto his shoulders. There were a few birds perched atop the fence, all of them watching Dion as he climbed up over it. He clambered down the other side easily, setting Sugarcube down in the overgrown grass.

“Wait here.” Dion told Sugarcube, setting down her reins. She snorted, scraping at the ground with her hoof, then went right to chewing the grass after sniffing at it. That was probably a yes, then.

He turned to the mansion, wondering how best to approach this. There was an open window on the second floor—open wide enough for a lanky sixteen year-old to crawl through it.

“You better be in there.” Dion muttered, making his way over to the building proper. He tried the door, first, pushing at it with his shoulder—it didn’t budge. He backed up, ready to go for the window—

The door swung open. “You could at least knock.”

Dion fell backwards with a shout. He flailed about for a moment trying to stand, and the statue, an actual statue? holding the door open watched quietly.

“So.” The statue began, its—their?—voice undercut with a sound like stone scraping across stone. “What brings you to our humble abode?” They asked dryly.

Dion swallowed. Just pretend it’s a really good paint job, he told himself. “I’m looking for my brother.” He said. “He’s sixteen, and he’s about this tall—” He gestured roughly Raz’ height, “—and even if he’s not here I wouldn’t mind some directions out of the forest.” He rambled out, spitting the words before his brain could catch up and bog him down with doubt.

The statue considered, tilting their head with a stone-scraping sound. They stepped back. “Come in.” They said, “He’s this way.”

Right. Okay. Dion could do this. Creepy un-abandoned mansion? No problem. He stepped over the threshold, into the front hall. A grand staircase dominated the room before him, though his stone guide turned to the left. Dion hurried to follow—for a statue, they sure were fast.

“Name’s Adam.” They said, moving their hand up towards their hat, only to drop it down a moment later. “Yours?”

“Dion.” Dion responded. “Dion Aquato.”

“Dion, huh?” Adam mused. “Not bad.”

Despite himself, Dion managed a small “Thanks.” Looking more closely, Adam didn’t look too bad—they even looked kind of close to Dion in age, though being a statue probably made him ageless. Still, there was an undeniable charm to Adam’s slight smile, to the hat and the coat he was wearing. His skirt didn’t sway as he walked, but Dion still stared, mesmerized.

If Adam noticed Dion’s soft jealousy, they didn’t comment on it. Dion was thankful for that.

Adam came to a stop at a large door, pushing it open. “Hey, Gisu,” He said, “We’ve got another guest.”

Dion looked into the room—he froze.

A giant… spider… thing stared back at him, all four eyes glittering. She grinned, revealing that her furry chelicerae bracketed a mouth full of sharp teeth. The firelight of the room’s hearth lit her from behind, casting her face in shadow.

Dion moved to turn around, but Adam grabbed his arm and pushed him in. The door slammed shut behind Dion.

“Dion?”

Dion’s attention snapped onto his brother. “Pooter.” Raz was tied to a chair with sticky spider silk, squirming in place but still in one piece. And it was Dion’s job to make sure he stayed in one piece.

The monstress snorted. “Pooter?” She lifted a hand to her mouth as though she was trying to hold in a laugh.

Raz grumbled. “It’s not that funny.” He muttered.

Dion turned his attention back to the giant spider, his back pressed against the door. “I’m sorry if he caused any trouble.” He said, trying to ignore the rising fear in his throat, “But we’ll get out of your… fur now.”

The monstress shook her head. “You're not leaving." She said. "I don't even know your name!"

Dion wanted to melt into the wood. “Well,” he stalled, “What’s your name?”

“Gisu.” The spidress answered. “Now tell me yours.” Her gaze pinned him in place, and she moved closer.

Dion squirmed. He stared at Gisu, pressing back against the door. “Dion.” He said, after a long moment of squirming under her gaze.

Gisu smiled again. Dion tried not to think about how sharp her teeth were. “It’s nice to meet you!” She clasped her lower pair of hands together. “I think you and I and—” she snorted, “Pooter will get on well!” She turned towards the fire—

“Um, no?” Dion tried. “We can’t stay here—our family’s probably already missing us.” He glared at Raz with that statement, trying to convey just how much trouble the little shit was going to be in. He scooted sideways so he was just a little closer to Raz, his back still pressed against the wall.

“They’ll just have to miss you, then.” Gisu decided. She looked back over her shoulder at Dion, the firelight catching on her face and hair and fur. “It gets awfully lonely out here, you know.” She lamented.

“Then move somewhere less lonely.” Dion suggested, scooting along the wall.

“Can’t.” Gisu responded. “The curse won’t let us leave.”

“The curse?” Raz probed, sounding interested.

Dion scooted a little closer to his brother.

“Yeah,” Gisu confirmed. “The curse. None of us can go outside the wall.” It was hardly an explanation, but Raz’ eyes were already aglow with excited curiosity.

“And since it gets so lonely,” Gisu continued, scuttling over in between Raz and Dion, “I don’t think either of you should leave.”

“What!” Dion yelped. He turned his full attention to the spider monstress standing between him and his brother. “Please.” He urged. “He’s only sixteen. Let him go.” It hadn’t been only when Dion was sixteen—

No. Not the time. Raz would always be that green-eyed baby that screamed and flailed when Dion first tried to hold him, in Dion’s eyes. Even at sixteen.

“But why should I?” Gisu asked, skittering over to Dion. “What could you possibly offer me?”

“I’ll stay.” The words spilled out before Dion even realized he was speaking. “As long as…” He swallowed. “As long as you want me to.” What am I SAYING?

“Wh—no!” Raz protested. “If Dion stays, I stay too!”

“Raz.” Dion growled out. He looked back at Gisu. “I won’t try to leave or anything, I promise—just let Raz go.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “please.”

Gisu turned all the way around. “You promise?” She asked, ignoring Raz’ growing protests.

Dion stared her directly in the eyes. His jaw tightened. “Yes.” He confirmed. “I promise.”

Gisu smiled. “Okay.” She skittered over to where Raz was, slicing through the webs with a claw. “I’ll get Sam to load up that little horse of yours with supplies.” She explained, yanking Raz out of the chair. He pulled his arm away, grumbling. “Your brother should have enough to make it out of the forest safely.”

Dion nodded. “Okay.”

“Uh-uh!” Raz shouted, pacing over to Dion. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Dion put his hands on Raz’ shoulders. “You’re getting back on Sugarcube and you are leaving.” He ordered. Raz opened his mouth, but Dion closed him off. “I’m not arguing with you on this, Raz. Mom and Dad are going to be worried enough as it is.”

Raz glared. “Jerk.” He muttered.

“Yeah, well, this jerk is trying to get you home alive.” Dion grumbled. His face softened. “I’ll be okay, alright? Just get home safe for me. Can you do that?”

“I’m not a child.” Raz groused. He sighed. “Fine. But don’t you dare die, you hear me?”

“Who do you take me for?” Dion joked. He cupped Raz’ face in his hand, taking in every last detail while he still could. “Be good.” He added.

“Cute.” Gisu interjected, grabbing Raz’ arm. “Alright, buddy, come along, let’s get you out of here.” She skittered out through the now open door, pulling Raz along behind her. Dion watched them go. The fire was warm against his back. He found himself feeling cold all the same.

“Hey.” And then Adam was there, and Dion jumped, startled. Adam watched him climb down the shelf. Dion landed on the floor, brushing himself off as though that might clear away the embarrassment.

“Here, let’s find a room for you to stay in.” Adam offered. Dion nodded wordlessly, following the statue back towards the grand staircase in the front hall. They walked up the steps, down a hall, and then came to a stop outside another room. “In here.” Adam said, pushing the door open.

Dion stepped into the… bedroom, he guessed. The bed looked unused, but not too old. There was a radio and a lamp on the nightstand, a dresser and a vanity across from the bed.

“Follow the rabbits if you want to find the kitchen.” Adam said. “And there’s a bathroom down the hall. Mind the squirrels.” And with that, he left, the door closing behind him.

Dion looked back at his room—or would cell be more appropriate? No, no, don’t think like that. Dion promised to stay here, so he wasn’t a prisoner.

Dion walked over to the bed, letting himself flop forwards onto it. The mattress took his weight with good grace, only creaking slightly as he shuffled forwards so that he was all the way on. A moment later, his shoes thumped against the floor as he kicked them off.

The comforter smelled like dust. Dion rolled over, looking up at the canopy.

“What did I get myself into?” He wondered. How long would it be, before Gisu decided to eat him? Did he have months? Weeks? Days?

“Okay, testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.”

Dion yelped, falling out the bed and flailing as he got up. He looked around the room wildly for the source of the voice, but nothing jumped out at him.

“That’s right,” the voice said, “Keep turning so I can get a good look.” There was an odd quality to it, like fuzzy static—

Dion turned to the radio. “Who—”

“Hm, tall, lanky—kind of twinkish.” The voice judged.

Dion’s face flushed. “Twinkish?” He had plenty of muscle! Lean muscle, but being an acrobat still required a lot of strength!

“Ooo, yeah, I think you might be her type.” The voice decided. A melodic set of dings went off, and Dion got the impression that the voice was nodding.

“Who are you?” Dion demanded. God, he was tired. How long had it been since he had slept last? Too long.

The radio cackled. “Morris Martinez, at your service.” It said. “You won’t find a more handsome disembodied voice anywhere in the mansion!” There was a smugness to the voice that grated on Dion's nerves.

“Okay.” Dion grabbed the radio, lifting it up off the nightstand.

“Wait—” Morris began, “Hey! What’s the big idea?”

“I’m too tired to deal with this.” Dion groused, shoving the door open. “And I’d really like some peace and quiet!” He set the radio down on the floor, ignoring the sounds it was making. The door slammed shut—Dion could still hear the radio, faintly, but it was much easier to ignore, now. He returned to the bed, falling back onto the mattress with a grown.

Dion stared at the canopy. At least Raz would be okay. Maybe. He couldn’t discount the possibility that Raz would find some trouble to get into on the way home—

But at least he would end up home.

And that was what mattered most. Dion had set out intending to find his brother and bring him home, and he’d done exactly that. Mission accomplished.

Just… not in the way Dion expected. But that was fine! Dion would make the same choice every time, if he had to. It was his job as an older brother.

The radio had finally gone quiet outside Dion’s room. The sunlight coming in through the window was beginning to fade.

Dion reached over to the lamp and flicked it off. If nothing else, at least he could finally get some sleep.

(He knew that sleep would be a long time coming.)

#whumptober2023 #no.28 #sacrifice #''you'l have to go through me.'' #psychonauts #zaz writes #spider tw #acrobat and the spider au #razputin aquato #dion aquato #sugarcube aquato #gisu nerumen #adam joseph gette #morris martinez #(at the very end) #and then sam and lizzie and norma all show up but don't have any lines #and only sam is mentioned by name #anyway. this piece was simultaneously fun and a slog to get through. i don't know how it did that #but hey! dion's in the mansion now! #surely this can only end well!

[pocket-luv101]

Summary: Mikuni struggles to confess his feelings to JeJe. He writes him a love note and leaves it in a ship bottle. Unfortunately, his bad handwriting leads to a misunderstanding. (Jekuni)

“I don’t know how you’re able to make these tiny ships but you’re terrible at cooking and housework. It says a lot if you’re worse than the Servamp of Sloth. You should be better with your hands if you can make these.” Mikuni mused out loud and he peered through the glass bottle. He only pretended to study the miniature ship and his true focus was JeJe.

“One skill doesn’t lead to the other, Mikuni. You’re intelligent enough to know that so I feel like you’re only here to tease me. Can you please get off my desk?” He asked and Mikuni’s reply was a long hum. Even though Mikuni was sitting on top of his work desk, JeJe was tall enough for them to be eye to eye with him. The mischievous glimmer in his brown eyes was enough to tell him that he had no intention of moving. “Shouldn’t you be watching over the shop?”

“Johannes is sitting at the front desk and Mahiru will take over his shift in ten minutes. I have time to spare and I thought I should check on your progress with the bottled boats. They sell well.” Mikuni knew that it was best to mix a single lie into several truths so the other person couldn’t see through it easily. The simple truth was that Mikuni wanted to spend time with JeJe.

When Mikuni first made his contract with JeJe, he didn’t expect to fall in love with him. He was still uncertain whether he should tell him. He saw how fragile his parent’s relationship was and the inevitable fallout when it eventually broke apart. Afterwards, Mikuni placed his heart in a glass bottle so he could focus on protecting his brother and revenge against the Count.

With time and a gentle touch, JeJe was able to reach his heart and made him trust again. JeJe would often warn him that being his Eve would corrupt him. What expression would he make after he told him that he was the one who kept him from falling into darkness? Mikuni was curious to see his reaction— especially since JeJe covered his face with a paper bag.

“Your boats sold well and I thought I should give you a commission.” He told him. He slid his pinky beneath his paper bag and slowly lifted it off his head. JeJe wouldn’t allow anyone to see his face after he became a vampire and he would hide himself with paper bags or his snake form. Mikuni was the only exception. He placed his hand on his cheek and teased his thumb over his fang. “I’m not going to pay you with blood so don’t look at me as if you’re going to eat me.”

JeJe immediately turned away from Mikuni. The man tempted him with far more than his blood. In the corner of his eyes, he noticed Mikuni take out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He assumed that it was the payment he mentioned earlier. However, it was too thin to be holding cash. Mikuni’s fingers trembled over the paper and crinkled the edges.

“This is for you.” Mikuni said but he didn’t hand the paper to him. He thought it would be easier to confess to JeJe through a love letter. He had kept countless secrets throughout his life so it was difficult for him to be open and vulnerable.

JeJe stared at him and Mikuni regretted taking off his paper bags. There was something in his red eyes that made him want to be more honest. He felt as if he could see through him to the broken man inside yet JeJe didn’t condemn him. He could be vulnerable with him and not fear judgement. “I wrote a letter…”

Mikuni’s voice trailed off. When he was a child, he overheard his father say something similar to Misono’s birth mother. His grip around the letter tightened and crumpled it. He hesitated to give him the letter as memories of his broken family came rushing back to him. His lips parted slightly but he found himself at a loss for words.

“Mikuni?” He whispered his name. Before either of them could say something, they heard the shop’s bell ring and signalled someone had entered. JeJe placed a hand on Mikuni’s knee in a protective gesture and he looked at the security camera. He stood from his chair and picked up his paper bags that were laying at their feet. “Kuro and Mahiru are here. I’ll go greet them for you. You can give me your letter later.”

“Okay.” He nodded even as he was inwardly debating whether he should tear up the note. He was left alone with those thoughts after JeJe left the room. Mikuni moved off the work desk and he stared down at the crumpled note in his hands. His gaze moved to the bottled ship he had been working on earlier and an idea came to him.

Mikuni rolled the note around his finger until it was small enough to slip into the bottle. The paper unfurled within the glass bottle and revealed the words he wrote. He had written five short lines but he had revised them countless times. He hoped those feelings would reach JeJe and they wouldn’t end the way his parents did.

“How are the sales, Mahiru?” Mikuni stepped into the shop and he walked to the front desk. He offered a part time job to him because it was a good opportunity to monitor the Eve. He could also question him about his brother. Mahiru was trusting and he didn’t appear to question him when he asked him to work at his shop. The best benefit of hiring Mahiru was one he hadn’t thought of until later. With him taking care of his shop, he had more time to spend with JeJe.

“We sold three bottled ships this afternoon. People were interested in the bottle ship Johannes put on display but they couldn’t read what it said. They didn’t know if it was a spell, a blessing or a curse. They asked me what it said but I couldn’t answer them. What does it say?” At first, Mikuni was confused by his question. That feeling was quickly replaced with dread when Mahiru pointed to a glass bottle on the shelf.

The glass bottle held his love letter to JeJe.

“I asked Johannes what it could be but he didn’t know either. He told me that he found it on JeJe’s desk and thought you were going to sell it.” Mahiru explained behind him. His back was turned to him but he saw the way that his shoulders stiffened. “Is something wrong, Mikuni? Is that note related to Sensei? I’m sorry if it was sensitive information. Maybe you don’t have to worry because the writing is bad and no one was able to read it.”

“I’m going to break the bottle over that scientist’s head.” Mikuni muttered the threat beneath his breath. He quickly grabbed the bottle from the shelf and stared down at the words. Between his messy handwriting and the fact that he wrote it in French, no one was able to read it. He should be comforted that no one knew its true contents but his head was still whirling with anxiety.

He didn’t stop to explain his frantic behaviour with a lie to Mahiru. Mikuni marched into the backroom with the intention of throwing the note into the trash. After remembering the love letters his father wrote to a mistress and his letter being mistaken for something else, he thought it was a sign he shouldn’t confess to JeJe.

Mikuni closed the door behind him and then he leaned back against the wood. His eyes landed on JeJe working at his desk. The sound of the door caused JeJe to look up from the ship he was building and he turned around. Their eyes met and the glass bottle felt cold against his fingers. Mikuni quickly hid his emotions behind a faux smile but JeJe noticed the panic in his brown eyes.

“Did one of my bottle ships break?” JeJe knew Mikuni well enough that he couldn’t ask him what was bothering him. He gave him an excuse he could use and the opportunity to tell him the truth himself. He didn’t expect him to do so though.

“Johannes wrote this weird advertisement and put it into one of your glass bottles. You can take out the paper and reuse the bottle.” Mikuni walked to his side and he placed the bottle on his desk. He didn’t see the danger in doing so because it was unlikely that he would be able to read his handwriting. “Burn the letter. I’m going back to my room to read.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.” JeJe said but Mikuni was already gone. He took out his pliers so he could pull the note out of the bottle. He recognized the handwriting as Mikuni’s and it made him pause.

JeJe, thank you for always being by my side. When I thought I had lost everything — my brother, my family, myself — I only needed to look next to me where you’re always standing. You’ve saved me from taking the same path as my mother. I can’t write enough words to tell you how grateful I am. But I will start with “I love you”.

#servamp #jekuni #envy pair #servamp jeje #mikuni alicein

[havingsomemorejohnlarks]

❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞ and [SUGGESTIVE] sound like they would be interesting to pair together

[ SUGGESTIVE ]  our muses are hanging out and end up on the topic of turn ons,  kinks,  and what they’re attracted to.

❝  well,  honestly i’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.  ❞

well im writing a fic cos its the only thing i know how to do! :’)

(so like i may put it on ao3) 

tbh this idea doesn’t really line up with Rook’s personal history, but I’m willing to put that aside for the sake of the fic 😌

I’m sorry if this is not what you were expecting, let me know if you want anything different! I put the options in the name chooser and it came out with john x rook so I’m going to be doing a fic with

John Seed x Male Deputy OC (Rook Diamante)

Warning: Sexual Tension, mention of transphobia and fetishization, strong language, mention of/talking about kinks (specifically, power play, piss kink, choking, gun play, knife play, degradation)

“Just please tell me the people there are nice...”

The sound of his Mom’s worried voice came crackling down the phone, as Rook pressed it against his ear and shoulder, clumsily shifting a few pans around on the kitchen counter.

There was no escaping the anxiety of Rook’s family, especially as he moved so far away. There was no hiding it either, even though Lillian was trying to keep her usual calming tones in the statement. Her son wasn’t an idiot though. Of course she was worried.

“Yeah, I guess so, Mom. Some of them are a little...” He hesitated, trying to find the right word, knowing the one he was about to say wasn’t what he meant. “... odd?”

He tried to keep the mocking “And I’m not going into high school, I’ve just moved to a different state.” inside his head because he knew how unhelpful that would be. And how stupid. The second one sounded much worse. Maybe.

“Odd? In what way? What have they said to you?” A deeper voice joined the conversation, one filled with even more anxiety, not even bothering to hide it.

“No one’s said anything, Dad. I meant... they’re just new. I’ve met plenty of nice people! Like... there’s this cute couple who run this business. They invited me to a barbecue this weekend so...”

A sigh of relief could barely be heard on the other side of the call. Although Rook knew they’d be unsettled with him being so far away from New York, it was still weird to witness both his parents like this after they’ve tried to remain strong for him all his life.

Rook felt it was his duty as a son to try and soothe them. He searched for other people in his mind who he had found nice and intriguing and not a threat to his personal safety, someone his parents could like and approve of.

“I’ve got this co-worker... he’s like an asshole but a loveable one, you know? Respects me but also calls me a dumbass when I’m being one. He’s cool.” Rook couldn’t help the little grin on his face, as he remembered the night out that Staci Pratt had invited him to, which resulted in him getting so drunk that he had sustained physical injuries. It was such a stress-reliever to finally drink with someone after moving to some random place in Montana.

A chuckle from his Dad and Rook knew that he had relaxed a bit. Someone who was on his sons side. Someone good.

“Any other new friends? Maybe... someone hot?”

He heard his Mom yell at his Dad playfully, while Rook’s face started to burn up suspiciously quickly. He had been avoiding thinking about “someone hot” or, more specifically, the hot man that he had seen around at that place, Aubrey's Diner, that Staci so loves.

It was embarrassing really. It was embarrassing how quickly he had agreed to go to the same diner again when Staci has suggested it. It was embarrassing how he craned his neck just a little every time, hoping to see the attractive man in the stylish outfits that made his tummy do flips. It was certainly embarrassing how he would go home disappointed when those blue eyes did not look his way, leaving him wanting and dreaming of some touch.

Staci had teasingly offered his services, but he shut up when Rook had hit him round the head.

A few more mentions of different people who had been nice to him and his parents had been soothed, still sad that he was not with them but happy for him all the same. His Dad gives him the usual cautions about people with bad intentions, reminds him to have fun (he can almost hear Mom’s eyes rolling) and Rook hangs up, promising he’ll be careful and also have fun, which is definitely a tough line to walk, if Rook’s completely honest.

But he says it anyway.

After hanging up, a dragged out sigh was let out into the air.

Usually, Rook was happy to talk to his parents, but giving someone reassurance for so long a conversation can catch up to you, especially if you’ve just finished a shift at work and are trying to make dinner.

He looked down at the pans he had gotten out in an attempt to make food. He stared for a while.

An irritated sigh and some tapping on his phone and Staci was on the other line.

“Don’t feel like making dinner, you wanna eat out tonight?”

An amused, sleepy grumble. “A ‘hello’ would be cool.”

“Shut up, yes or no?”

Staci laughed. “And you say I’m the dickhead.”

Rook made a deliberate, irritated sound.

Another laugh. “Okay, okay.”

-------------------------------------

After taking an absolute age to actually roll out of his bed, Staci finally texted to declare that, this time, despite all the other times being lies, he was actually leaving the house to get to the diner.

Meanwhile, seated at a table with a glass of cheap alcohol, Rook was having a difficult time convincing himself and Staci that he had absolutely no prior knowledge of his friends bad time management. He definitely didn't come to the diner a little early just to see if he could position himself as devastatingly handsome and completely alone and, therefore, in need of some company.

No, no. Why would he do that? It wasn't like there was any particular reason to do that. Definitely no particular man either.

Rook was just hoping Staci would go easy on the teasing when he got here because he sure as Hell wasn't fooling anybody.

It was pointless to come early anyway - Rook only sat there staring at the door, eyes becoming glittered with hope when he saw it open.

Staci got there before the man in the expensive clothes could.

"You know, you're not subtle."

Rook knew he couldn't fake it, so he didn't even try. "I know. It's stupid."

Staci picked up on the hint of embarrassment and disappointment. "It's not. John Seed is pretty hot, classically handsome, I suppose.”

Rook’s head snapped up, eyes now staring at his friend. “What? You know him?”

Staci nodded, glancing over the menu, even though he knew exactly what he was getting.

Rook’s mouth was slightly open. “And you didn’t think to tell me that?!”

The other man couldn’t stop the grin creeping on him. “I figured you would ask, if you wanted to know who he was.”

Rook didn’t stop staring.

“Also, I don’t really know him, know him. I just know of him, like everyone else does. I think only a select few actually know him, you know, he’s that type.”

Rook’s stare turned into a curious peer. “What type?”

Staci breathed out through his nose, a touch uncomfortable. “Well... mysterious, I guess... suspicious.”

Rook waited for Staci to give his order to the waiter who had come round, trying to understand what his friend was getting at.

Staci saw the look on Rook’s face and sighed. “Look, I was gonna tell you eventually anyway but... might as well be now.”

The expression on his face turned serious and Rook found himself remembering his Dad’s cautions. It looked like Staci was having a tough time.

“He might be dangerous, ok? He belongs to that... group that we get calls about. You know, the culty one.”

Right. Rook had heard about this. Whitehorse, his new boss, had pulled him aside while Pratt and Hudson responded to a call, whispering to him about being safe and something about ‘having your back’.

He tried to push down the rising tide of disappointment. He swallowed. And found himself doing something he didn’t think he’d ever actually do.

“Do you think... I should leave it alone then?”

Staci pulled an over-exaggerated face. “Dude, do whatever you want. Just don’t join the creepy groupies his brother has.”

Rook didn’t know how to feel about that. He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t still intrigued by this John guy. But he knew how much worth a good looking, mysterious man in nice clothes had.

None. At all. He knew that from experience.

“I might... just leave it.”

That was the best decision to be made. Something excitable in him died, while the disappointment settled in. But he knew if he started something with this guy, it would get worse.

Cut it off at the root as soon as possible.

------------------------------------------

Perhaps going to the diner the night before a shift was a bad decision because both Staci and Rook woke up on the latter mans living room floor with banging headaches.

Rook was the first to wake and stumble to the bathroom, extremely aware that he wanted to throw up but couldn’t. This went on for about twenty minutes before the bathroom was raided by Staci, who lovingly shoved his friend out of the way to actually throw up.

While his friend was busy vomiting violently into the toilet, Rook crawled out of the room and picked up his phone. Only a few minutes until they were due to clock in for work.

Groaning, he reluctantly dialled the Sherriff’s number.

“Hey, Sherriff. Would you be mad if me and Staci called in sick today?”

“You two get your asses up to this station right now or there’ll be hell to pay.”

How did he know?

“We... really shouldn’t be driving, Sir.”

“Then walk.”

Whitehorse hung up.

Shit, he’s pissed off.

-----------------------------------------------

It took so long for them to get out the door, let alone walk all the way to the police station. Staci didn’t even have his uniform, but he insisted that there would be a spare one at the station.

Rook had to stumble about getting ready, before getting the bright idea to shove some water and food in his bag, to cure their hangovers.

Never in his life had Rook shown up to work hungover. It seemed to be something of a pastime for Staci, however.

They arrived to their place of work in a cold sweat, panting and, in Staci’s case, with a little vomit round the mouth. He couldn’t keep it in for the whole walk.

Whitehorse was standing outside the door, looking like the prime example of an angry boss - arms crossed, brows furrowed and a hard stare.

Rook tried to straighten up a little more, trying to seem apologetic and professional, despite the obvious unprofessionalism here. Staci didn’t even bother, clinging on to his friend for dear life, not looking anywhere but the floor as he groaned.

They walked gradually up the steps, slowly past Whitehorse, who moved out the way, still glaring. Rook swallowed and rasped, “It won’t happen again, Sherriff.”

“Clean him up and get in my office in five minutes. Both of you.”

It didn’t take too long to guide Staci to the station’s bathroom to throw up again. Rook had to wipe his mouth and give him water.

“I’m not getting you changed, Pratt.”

Staci chuckled behind the roughness of his hangover.

“Feeling any better yet?”

Staci waved an arm at him, breathing heavily on the floor. “Much.”

Rook raised an eyebrow, not believing him even a little.

They got to the office in seven minutes, but Whitehorse didn’t give a shit by then. He sat in his chair, not saying a word, while the two young men stood on the other side of the desk. Rook shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the next, while Staci stood casually, weight leant on one foot, still looking ill.

“I just can’t believe you two.”

Silence filled the room around his words.

“How could you be so immature? You realise I could fire you, right? The only reason I refuse to is because we have so little staff, so much so that I told you to get your stupid faces down here even though I knew you would be useless today.”

“And also cos you love us, Sherriff.”

Rook kicked Staci so hard he almost fell over, and Whitehorse spun around in his chair, facing away from them, under the guise of being so disgusted by their behaviour, he had to look away.

In reality, he was trying to hide the smirk that tried to creep on his face.

“You do realise the Seeds are planning to come up here, yes?”

Both of them felt their hangovers cure in a split second. Or did they worsen?

“Wait, the culty ones?” Staci asked, as tactful as ever. Rook’s eyes widened to the size of small moons.

“Yes, the god-damn culty ones, Pratt! And you two boneheads decided to-”

He was cut off by the sound of a car pulling up to the station. The old man swiftly got up out of his seat and peered through the blinds, confirming his suspicions.

“Look. They’re here. I’ll punish your sorry asses later. Just get out there and stop looking like you drank the entire contents of the Spread Eagle.”

Staci had to pipe up again. “Actually, Sir, it was Aubrey's Dine-”

Whitehorse pushed them both towards the door, muttering something that sounded like “Get the fuck out, son.”

They hauled ass to their desks, flopping gratefully into their chairs, while Nancy shook her disapproving head at them the whole way.

As the door to the station opened, Rook chucked cold already-cooked hash brown leftovers over to Staci, who mouthed “Thank you!”, pretending to cry with relief.

Sure enough, John Seed walked through the door.

Rook’s head snapped down quickly, a burning sensation already coming up to his cheeks. He threw a bottle of water at his friend, aggressively, when he quietly wolf-whistled.

Rook hoped to Hell that John didn’t notice.

Unlucky for Rook. John always noticed as much as possible.

Before their eyes could meet, Whitehorse came out of his office, looking relaxed and composed. Rook had to give him credit - he could hardly tell he’d been seething literally just 30 seconds ago.

“Hey there, Mr. Seed.” Like the southern gentleman he was, he offered his hand, and John, being a master of politeness, took it immediately, a fake and gleaming smile already on his face.

“Hello there, Sherriff. I hope you weren’t waiting for me too long.”

“No, no, you’re just on time, Sir. Would you like to talk in my office?”

“I wish he was as polite as that a few minutes ago,” muttered Staci, around a mouthful of hash brown.

Rook tried not to giggle and focused on the pile of paperwork ready to be processed on his desk.

They didn’t come out of that office for a while, and the atmosphere turned from light and humorous to a little ominous. Rook glanced over to his friend, who looked surprisingly solemn, his light nature faded a little.

Rook would never admit that this scared him a little. Staci wasn’t fucking about when he said that the cult situation was serious, because he was clearly worried.

This new, worrying tension did not break after John finally stepped out of the office, a triumphant and slightly almost smug smile all over his face (Rook thought it looked vaguely vicious, and his attraction to this man somehow grew and withered at the same time), with Whitehorse following, a grim look of reluctant acceptance attached to him.

It was deathly silent as the three others in the room pretended to not be interested and got on with their work.

“May I use your bathroom before I go?” John enquired, ever-so-politely.

Rook was already giving Staci a death glare before he could even twist his head and see the suggestive smirk on his friends face.

Whitehorse threw him a tight smile. “Of course... Rookie, show him where it is, will ya?”

Staci didn’t even have the chance to do anything sexual with his face, because Rook had already stuffed another cold hash brown into his face, to stop anything unprofessional in the workplace.

He didn’t miss the quiet fake-moan around the god damn hash brown though, and he had to whack Staci round the head to shut him the hell up. John Seed witnessed this, much to the dismay of Rook.

Awkwardly, he led the handsome man away from the scene and the silence crept on them both - it made Rook a little embarrassed but John seemed just fine.

After a nervous gesture to the bathroom door, he stood there awkwardly, while John looked closely, head tilted slightly.

Rook stared down at the ground, not looking up until John realised he wasn’t going to make eye contact with him.

“I recognise you, don’t I?”

Rook slowly moved his eyes up, accidentally (or not?) letting them graze over John’s body as he finally met his eyes.

Man, those eyes. Those blue eyes.

Rook smiled an awkward smile, but felt a little fluttery feeling inside.

He recognises me. A thrill went through him.

“Well, I’ve seen you around Aubrey's Diner a few times... I didn’t realise you saw me.”

John flashed a smile - not a fake one, like before, but a genuine amusement at the cute little look on Rook’s face.

“Oh, I saw you, Mr...?”

“Rook. Rook Diamante.”

John tilted his head up slightly, a small smile playing upon his lips. “Hmm, Rook Diamante...” He said the words as if he were testing them out on his tongue, and finding he liked them.

Rook couldn’t help but grin a little at that sight. “And you’re John Seed, yeah?”

The older man nodded, watching Rook carefully.

Rook could guess what he was searching for.

And his mouth opened before he could stop himself.

“You’re apart of your brothers... group or something, right?”

John laughed. “Yes, I am apart of Eden’s Gate.”

Rook nodded, with a quiet “ahh”.

John couldn’t help the widening of his smile and the slow, long look that pulled down Rook’s body. John let his gaze linger on the curve of the other mans ass and thighs. An image of John touching these parts of him flashed through his mind and left his heart racing and skin flushing slightly.

Rook didn’t miss this. He felt a heat rise up in him and for a moment, Staci’s suggestive comments running through his mind, and, for a second, he felt the crazy urge to shove John into the bathroom stall and grind up on him.

John stepped a little closer, feeling the tension between them. “This may be a bit unprofessional but... would you like to go to Aubrey’s Diner together sometime?”

Rook thought he might take flight in excitement. It showed in his voice, as he flustered, in a breathy voice, “Y-yeah! That... I’d like that a lot, actually.”

John grinned at the cuteness. “Good. Here.” He produced a little card from his jacket pocket, which Rook took, curiously.

It had ‘John Seed’ printed on it, with a phone number.

--------------------------------------------

“This was such a bad idea.”

“No, it isn’t, dumbass!” Staci rolled his eyes, rummaging through Rook’s old box of nail varnish. Rook had already taken out some black nail varnish out and painted a few hours ago.

Staci took out a dark, dark red colour and hummed in appreciation. As he started casually painting his perfect nails, Rook tried to get out of his third outfit choice of the night.

Staci frowned at him. “Why are you taking off the jeans? They show off your ass. Trust me, he’d like that.”

Rook growled and threw them across the room in frustration. He stood there in his dark red underwear, similar to the colour Staci was putting on his nails. “How the fuck do I know what he likes? I don’t even know him.”

Staci didn’t look up. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? Getting to know him or some shit?”

Rook groaned. “I don’t even fucking know! We didn’t clarify... maybe he...” Rook swallowed down disappointment. “... maybe he just wants to be friends.”

Staci did look up then. “Are you being serious? How much of a dumbass are you?!”

Rook put his hands on his hips, his eyebrows raised, bottom lip between his teeth.

“What are you looking at me like that for? Did you even see the look he gave you when he left the station? You don’t look at friends like that.”

Rook stopped the sass and starting biting his black nails. Staci rolled his eyes again and got up. He smacked Rook’s hands away from his mouth, and reviewed the outfits at hand.

There was silence for a moment as Staci worked his magic and worked out the outfit like it was a puzzle.

“Your favourite colour is red, right?”

Rook nodded.

“Hmm. Good. Dark red is your colour. Mix it with black. Put on them black jeans again. They’re your colour and they make you look hot.”

Rook did what was instructed, making no noise in argument. While he put them on, Staci ruffled through a few t-shirts and shirts in Rook’s drawer, making thinking noises.

He chose a few options. He held a dark blue t-shirt in one hand and a dark red shirt with buttons in the other. “This is the part where you have to choose.”

Rook pouted. “Why can’t I wear my slutty black and red one?”

Staci flicked his forehead. “BECAUSE.”

There wasn’t much more of an explanation than that.

When Rook had gotten the red shirt on him, they both argued about what piercings to put in. Eventually, they decided on plain rings up the side of his ear, but none on his ear lobe, as Staci declared it “too much”. The eyebrow bar was included, although Staci um-ed and ah-ed over this for a while.

By the time Staci had finished his work, Rook’s tummy felt the dormant notion of anxiety and butterflies. He took a deep breath in and tried to apply logic to the situation, just as his parents taught him.

This wasn’t going to kill him. The worst that could happen is John rejecting him.

He’s in a cult. He might try and indoctrinate you.

Rook was horrified by the stirring from below he felt at that thought.

Staci practically pushed him out of the building, squeezing out after him. “Don’t think so much, just go fuck him.”

Rook nodded.

“And tell me if he kills you.”

Rook whacked him.

------------------------------------

John has the sense not to arrive in one of the white Eden’s Gate trucks, instead pulling up to Aubrey’s Diner in a sleek car that looked too fancy for the small county.

Rook raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the wall of the building, feeling excited.

I’ve got a rich boy on my hands, he thought, amused.

John gracefully slipped out of the car and locked it with a simple press of his keys, not looking away from Rook.

John was captured by the way Rook appeared to be so casual but dressed like he cared. He let himself wonder what the other man might look like with those jeans and that red shirt off of him, a little smirk pleasantly displayed on his face, obviously intended for Rook to pick up on it.

Rook grinned, pushing himself off of the wall and stepping closer, letting himself take in the pretty man right in front of him.

Suits were so John’s look, Rook couldn’t even handle it.

The older man flashed a small smile, and Rook smiled back at him.

“Shall we go in, Mr. Diamante?” John asked, teasingly.

Rook laughed a little. “You can call me Rook, Mr. Seed.”

John chuckled and slipped a hand on to Rook’s arm, making him shiver. Rook was a confident enough guy but this man was absolutely oozing it - he wondered what it might be like to have John in the bedroom.

Chill out, he only put his hand on your arm.

They walked in, finding a seat easily. Rook looked at the drink menu and offered one to John.

He smiled, something a little off about it. “I’m afraid I don’t drink.”

Rook could sense a backstory but would never ask on the first date. Date?

“Oh, I see. Would you prefer me not to as well?”

John hesitated and it was all Rook needed to confirm it.

Before John could respond and explain that he didn’t want to be responsible for Rook if he got too drunk to walk or respond, the waiter came over, giving John Seed a dirty look.

The locals don’t like him.

“I’ll have a milkshake please,” Rook requested, with a smile.

The waiter gave him a look that said “Are you five?” but Rook didn’t give a shit. If he couldn’t drink, he’d focus on something else addictive. Sugar.

John looked pleasantly surprised and felt just as grateful. After he ordered a coke with ice, the waiter scribbling it down reluctantly, he turned to Rook.

“You didn’t have to-”

“No way,” he said, simply, “I could tell you would get uncomfortable. And you’re much more important than alcohol.”

John smirked at the implications and Rook’s eyes widened.

“I just mean-! I meant that you deserve respect more than some drink. I came to see you, not the drinks, after all...” Rook tried to fight off the blushing.

John chuckled. “It’s ok, Rook. Thank you, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Rook lets out a laugh through his nose and shakes his head. “It’s only basic respect, dude.”

John laughed. “That’s quite hard to come by nowadays.”

Rook scoffed. “Oh, trust me, I’m aware!”

The next hour was filled with discussion about the horrendous dates that they had both been on. Rook explained about the disrespect and fetishization for being Mexican and trans, which John took in his stride. John, in turn, described being body shamed and being pursued as a sugar daddy, which made Rook shake his head.

“So...” Rook started slightly hesitant, “You really don’t mind about the whole trans thing?”

It was so important to check.

John smiled gently and slid his hand over to Rook’s, placing it over his comfortingly. “I really don’t mind. If it’s ok for me to mention... I have been with transgender people before. I try to learn everything I’m supposed to, to make them comfortable, you understand?”

Rook grinned back. “Look’s like I picked the right guy to be attracted to then.”

John huffed out a laugh and leaned forward, teasingly. “You chose to be attracted to me, did you?”

Rook chuckled, a hint of seductiveness in his voice, despite the cheesiness of his next statement. “Oh, I’d say it was more like it chose me. You’re just something, you know?”

John had to fight the childish blush that came up to his cheeks. “Why, thank you, Rook Diamante.”

Rook shivered and felt something twist pleasantly in his lower belly.

“And I promise you, I’m not one of those people who actively seek transgender people... what are they called? I’m sure they had a name...”

“Chasers.” Rook supplied, drinking through his straw.

“Right.” John nodded. “I don’t understand that. You’re not a piece of meat, you’re a person. While you’re certainly...” he blushed, looking away from Rook’s smirk, ”attractive... you don’t deserve that kind of creepiness.”

Rook chuckled and nodded. “Agreed. I understand having some kind of fetish or kink, don’t get me wrong...” he flicked his eyes up at John, smirking slightly, “but if it’s something like that, it gets creepy as fuck.”

John laughed. “Of course. And... how much do you understand having some kind of fetish or kink...?” The question was part teasing, part hopeful, and Rook was ready to get into it.

“What an inappropriate question, Mr. Seed!” He took another slurp of milkshake. “I do understand having kinks, yeah. What about you?” 

He looked to John, curious to see what he says.

If he says he doesn’t have any, that man is a liar. Kink is written all over him.

John laughed, almost like he’d been caught out, with Rook giving him a “I know who you are” look.

“Yes, I have to say I do as well.”

Rook grinned and leaned forward. “Alright, man, pull out the list.”

John laughed hard, while Rook couldn’t help but giggle. His laughter was kind of contagious.

John stopped laughing and drank from his glass, still slightly chuckling around it. “Ok, I’ll indulge you. How about you suggest one and I’ll tell you which ones I... understand.”

Still grinning, Rook immediately pulled the first one he could think of. “Power play.”

“Yes.”

Rook called it. “Are you usually the submissive one or the dominant one?”

Gotta be a Dom right?

John smiled. “Well, I enjoy being either but... I gotta say, being a submissive is my preference.”

Wow, I was wrong. My fault for presuming, I guess.

John chuckled at the badly-hidden surprise on Rook’s face. “What about you, my handsome companion?”

Rook blushed and grinned. “Similar to you - I think I’d like being either, but...” He looked up right into John’s eyes. “I definitely would prefer being the Dominant one.”

John’s eyes flushed with something heated and his leg moved almost independently from him, to brush up firmly against Rook’s. Rook felt the urge to drag him into the bathroom again.

He liked that. Oh my God, he liked that.

John continued to rub his leg against Rook’s inner thigh, slightly but ever-so-noticeable. 

“Continue.” he whispered, gazing at Rook.

The younger man swallowed and tried to breathe naturally. “Ok. Choking?”

“Yes.”

Rook chuckled, breathlessly. “That was quick.”

An image of his hand around John’s throat popped into his head and his eyes flicked from his hand to John’s neck, trying to suss out whether or not it would be a perfect fit.

Only one way to find out...

Rook shook his head to snap out of it and tried to keep up the conversation. “Me too.”

John looked at him expectantly.

“Piss?” Rook blurted out, without thinking.

John couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Sort of? I can be into the power part of it, but it’s only really something I do if the person I’m with is particularly hot and particularly into it. What about you, Rook?”

Rook shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s not something I would like to try.”

John nodded, smiling slightly. He was sensing a pattern in Rook’s speech, the way in which he was referring to these interests of theirs.

“Ok, something extreme. Knife and gun play?”

John breathed in through his nose, leaning back to take in the question, but not taking his leg away from Rook’s. “Now that’s quite a prompt.”

Rook laughed and looked into his second milkshake - banana, this time, instead of strawberry. Chocolate was next. “I’m sorry if that was too much.”

John chuckled, slowly and seductively. “No, no, darling.” Rook felt that feeling in his belly again. “In fact, that is exactly my speed.”

Rook watched him. “So? You... understand it, right?”

John nodded. “Oh yes, I definitely understand it.”

“I think I’d like to try them. It kind of tracks that I would like it.” He laughed awkwardly.

John leaned in, ready to ask the question he wanted to. “You don’t have to answer but it might be important if you feel like...” He pushed his knee further up Rook’s thigh, “taking this a little further.”

Rook leaned in too, somehow not scared.

“Are you a virgin, Rook? Or have you simply not done anything kink related?”

Rook blushed very hard. He knew this would have to come up at some point, and he wasn’t embarrassed, not really. But he was still a touch nervous, even if he didn’t think John would mind.

“Well, honestly, I’ve never really had sex before and was kinda hoping you would teach me.” It was cheeky and playful but, underneath, Rook was hoping John would take it lightly.

John chuckled, and placed his hand on Rook’s thigh too. “Oh, you handsome man, I think I would adore teaching you.”

Rook flushed with something lustful. “My place or yours?”

John laughed, almost with shock. “You’re eager, aren’t you?”

The younger man leaned closer and placed his hand on John’s chin, tilting it up slightly. “Only for you, pretty boy.”

John felt that the heat had built up too much for him to not say the next words. “Are you ok with your place?”

“Yes.”

---------------------------------------

John drove them to Rook’s place, in warm silence that promised something hot as soon as they got inside somewhere with a bed or any other surface. Every so often, Rook would give directions and, every so often, John would turn to Rook quickly and give him a look that promised the best sex of his life.

When they pulled in to Rook’s place, there was a relaxed but hurried atmosphere. Rook wrapped an arm around John’s waist, and guided him to the door.

John grinned when Rook tried to open the door with his key, purposely placing himself behind him, pressed up against him, hands on Rook’s hips. The younger man looked back for a moment and glared playfully and John laughed.

“You’d better behave, pretty boy.”

John breathed in hard, taken aback but now a little hard at the idea of this man giving him a punishment for his bad behaviour. 

He leaned in to whisper in Rook's ear, breath tickling his skin. "You're very much mistaken if you think I'm the type to behave."

Rook whipped round very quickly, the door now open, and swiftly drew John's head close to his. As Rook bit the soft skin of John's earlobe, he heard John's breathing become more erratic.

"And you are severely mistaken if you think I'd let that slide."

And he pulled John inside.

---------------------------------------------------

Ok so that was that!

If you want the actual sex scene, I might post it on my ao3 for ya to read. I'm going to post this one too.

I hope that was okay, if you feel something was done wrong, let me know! :)

#far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfiction #fanfic #john seed x male deputy #john seed #male deputy

[hdjaeho]

𝑯𝑰 𝑭𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑺 ! it's so nice to meet you - i'm kiara ( she / her , est , 18 + ) and i'm here with my first muse ji jaeho !! i've been eyeing this roleplay for a whie so i'm pretty excited to be here , and hope that we can add some fun to your muse's lives ! jaeho's a starlight music trainee with a lot of discipine but a detrimentally big heart. i did sort of create him on a whim so pls bear with me as i get him fully settled ! but in the meantime you can find his info & some general connections below. and of course , please like this post if you'd ike to plot ! let's get going. <;3

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞. / 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐲. / 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pls excuse the many inevitable typos until i can fix them ! my keyboard's being super wonky so my keys aren't all working right. :')

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ::

( tw : mentions of abuse , parental neglect , and abandonment. )

born park jaeho in busan , south korea. his birth parents were teens who'd accidentally become pregnant and had jaeho just after high school graduation.

the second jaeho was born , his existance filed his parents with resentment. she held a lot of hatred toward him for being the "cause" of them missing out on their youth , and they had no problem reminding him.

by the first seven years of his life , jaeho's learned how to be seen but never heard , especialy when it came to the mistreatment from his parents. it's only when his teacher notices a particularly alarming drawing in class depicting the violence in his house that he finally gets someone to vouch for him.

it's not long before he gets roped in the foster system , which was an incrediby lonely experience for him as an ony chid. however , it's also a comforting one in ways , when he's placed with families that fill his early childhood memories with far more love and support than his families ever have.

it's his last home that's filed with the most love, however, and it's the ji's when he's eight years old. they attatch to him instanty, and it's obvious from the very start how kind-hearted they are. with his foster mom being a fiery but loving therapist and his foster dad being a quiet but patient owner of a resturaunt , they knew all the ways to show him love , whether by nurturing his heart or his stomach.

they always aimed to fuel jaeho's creativity and dreams in all the ways his birth parents hadn't. it becomes no secret he takes a paticular liking to dance ( ballet's his favorite ) , writing , and art , though the first two are the strongest of his interests.

his foster parents try their best to gift him normalcy and the tools to reach their dreams , even if it means spending their last. they spend their checks on the best dance schools they can afford , and whle it's clear it's doing jaeho good , he feels awful about it. he doesn't want to feel indebted to them , and to make things worse , his dance peers bully him for his worn shoes and low income.

he feels so undeserving of their love - after all he's not even their chid. at least ... until he is. at the age of twelve , his birthday comes with the best surprise. not a new toy , not the latest video game , but adoption papers. finally , a true family.

but his best gift of all comes later that year when he receives news that another adoption has been finalized - a one year old named jieun. her parents had given her up after they discovered she was deaf. but , unsurprising due to their kindness , the ji's took her in with open arms.

with a deaf member of the family , miss ji was diigent in ensuring all the family members learned to use sign , including jaeho. he loves it , actually , as often when they were out in public it felt like him and his baby sister had a special language shared between them. as his fluency in ksl grew so did his love for her , and it's not long before he becomes incredibly protective and caring for the littlest ji.

but as he gets older , he starts feeling extreme pressure to repay his parents for all their kindness by being the best son possible. a mix of guilt & past rejections transforms him into an anxiety-ridden teen determined to come out on top.

as graduation approaches, he feels less and less encouraged to follow his dream to dance. it had taken so much out of his parents , and he didn't feel right continuing to take from them when it came with so much risk. so instead of continuing dance , he enrolls in colege as an education major , deciding to pursue another dream that will do his parents much less harm.

his mom can't bear to see him give up on something he showed so much promise in. so , she begins posting his covers she'd recorded for him to youtube , and eventuay , gets contacted to audition. the answer is an overwhelming no from jaeho when he finds out , extremely upset his mother had done such a drastic thing without asking him.

however , after an emotional heart-to-heart with his mom , he realizes ... running from his ream isn't doing either of them good , and letting go of his dream woud mean his parent's sacrifice woud be for nothing. so , in a very big leap of faith , he makes the huge decisison to drop out of school for the time being to pursue the trainee life full-time.

since he's been in seoul , he's faced an overwhelming amount of doubt in himself and guit. he's unsure if it'll all be worth it - being unabe to care for his sister , being away from his parents he oves so much , and trying to actually learn to care for himself and not just those around him.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 ::

highly highy emotional. i think because of his sharp visuals & relatively quiet nature people might first mistake him for that mysterious & cool type , but he's really not. he's an extremely deep feeler , and though he tries to hide it , those who know him well know it's no secret. due to his past , he's gotten used to silence to repress how he's feeling , but his silence mixed with his facial expressions ( he really can't hide those ) makes it fairly obvious how he's feeling.

loyal , but sometimes to a fault. he has a strong nurturing instinct and desire to help others , even if it means hurting himself in the process. it's made the whole competitive atmosphere of the trainee word difficult for him , as he has to juggle his equally dominant desires to help others and be on top.

v random but he had a massive massive growth spurt HAHA. he was really small and frail his entire life unti his last years of high school , where he sprung up suddenly. that , mixed with his newfound interest in the gym transformed him into an entirely different jaeho than his peers had known.

quiet , but not shy. again , because of how he was raised in early years to be seen not heard , he tends to be pretty lowkey when he doesn't know you well. however , he's incredibly expressive through his dance , a stark contrast that makes his performances that much more powerful. he likes lyrical & hip hop now the best , because despite being very different he gets to channel the same level of different emotions. but in terms of socialization , those he knows well know that he can become a chatterbox & even a bit of a wild child if he's made to feel comfortable enough ! think kinda jun from svt vibes ??

once again , very nurturing. the mom friend , the type to stay late after practice to help you with a difficult part , cook you meals and pay for the bill when you look way. he's been a foster brother to tons of kids his adoptive parents helped raise , so taking care of others has practically become second nature.

adores kids , and it's no surprise that he's wanted to be an elementary school teacher , especially for deaf children , and he intends to do so when the idol life is behind him. after all - right before coming to his company he was working part-time as an after school kids dance teacher ! he just loves to love , and acts of service and words of affirmation definitely top his love language list.

with that being said , he's also a giant romantic. still not convinced it's in the cards for him , but desperately wants it to be. loves all those cheesy romance dramas , and falls deeply for people. but, because he doesn't always know to do what's best for him, he's literally set his friends up with his crushes in the past just to make them happy. can u tell already he likes breaking his own heart for fun ?? LMAO

as you can tell he's a true softie. but one thing he absolutey won't tolerate is laziness. he already feels so bad for pursuing this dream that he'll do everything in his power to make it worth it. which is why trainees who clearly don't put in a good faith effort will deefinitely see themselves on the rarely seen but incredibly scary bad side of him dwojdwiodwjio. in short - he doesn't take bullshit.

like i said , he's a deep feeler. but because of that , he has a really hard time forgetting things , and can hold a bit of a grudge. for minor things he's almost too forgiving. but if something major happens and things are said in the heat of the moment , it's like he instantly detatches & goes radio silent. he does it to protect himself but sometimes he needs to learn to forgive & also not to close himself off as much , especially with those he cares for the most.

loads of imposter syndrome. he doesn't have the connections and experiences he's seen some others have in the indsutry, and it definitely makes him question whether or not he belongs. trying his best to blen in but constantly feels like he's playing a role and isn't really cut out for the idol life , and also questions if he should've just stayed in school.

very analytical of people . tends to try and figure out people's personality before he even knows them well, because he's incredibly curious but afraid to get too attatched too fast. sometimes he legit just stares at peope trying to see how they operate because he wants to know them better pls don't mind him LOL

random fun fact but his family nickname is maehwa ! it means plum blossom , and his mom gives nicknames every kid she's taken care of revolving around flowers / nature. jaeho got his nickname because his mom thinks of him as a sign of hope and new beginnings, just like blossoming flowers signal the start of spring.

heaviy reliant on organization - his notebooks , calendars , and even phone are all color coded and alphabetically sorted to his heart's content. needs order to feel comfortable and it's often refected with how he trains and studies.

there's probably so much more but i'm so self conscious of how much i'm writing HAHA so for now , we'll leave it at that ! i'll add more if i left anything out tho <;33

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ::

this will be a pretty small and general list for now but more coming soon !! plus i love brainstorming above all else , so these could work as mere inspos or we can create something totally fresh !

dance friends - jaeho didn't get along too well with many dance students , but maybe someone could be the exception ? someone who went to the same company as him when they were teens and acted as a sort of comfort to him. he's from busan but did his lessons in seoul !

a younger / less mature trainee who either is struggling to find their way or just needs a little care. a sibling-like relationship with someone who jaeho deeply cares for ! he can be a little overprotective but he emans well , and will certainly care for them as deeply as his heart allows.

language exchange buddies ? jaeho doesn't really speak a lick of english , but wants to learn. and in return , he can either teach foreign muses korean or even teach them korean sign language !

crushes / first love vibes - very loose idea that requires tons of brainstorming but maybe a little romance that's begun to spring up ? he's incredibly romantic though so he tends to get pretty invested , which can be an equally good and bad thing. but more of a sweet , slow-paced romance !

on the other side , exes ?? ngl with him it's MESSY though because as i said , a strong feeler ! takes forever to get over relationships , and if ended badly , often holds a strooong grudge.

best friends who do well at baalncing each other out - i think naturally, jaeho would probaby get closest to someone a bit different than him bc quite honestly if they're just as strong a feeler of him it can be Too Much haha ?? but people who bring out the best traits of each other and can be incredibly real w each other !

someone who encourages jaeho to actually let loose and be young for once ! he never lets himself havea break , so he could certainly benefit from friends who push him into a little healthy chaos.

enemies ?? which would be very interesting , considering jaeho has very few. but people who are rude without reason , lazy , or snobby are the small portion of the population that get on his bad side haha !

roommates !! honestly rooming with jaeho can be a whole adventure , but you're certainly gonna get free homecooked meals , a listening ear , and a plant collection out of it. pls keep this lonely boy some company while he's in seoul !

#𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 — intro. #this is SO LONG IM SORRY #his page is extremely wip pls bare w me ! <3 #also this gif is a graphic placeholder HAHA #so excited to be here tho ~~

[murkyhazed]

✍️ + polly cooper AND/OR toni topaz ?

Send me ✍️ + a muse, and I’ll try my hand at writing as them

               this   house,   this   family?      polly   can’t   take   it   anymore.      sure,   maybe   her   parents   are   trying   but   it   isn’t   enough   after   what   they   had   done   to   her.      at   a   time   when   she   needed   them   the   most,   when   she   was   vulnerable,   they   cast   her   away   to   that   horrible   place.      the   sisters   of   quiet   mercy   was   no   sanctuary,   but   more   like   a   prison.      a   prison   where   they   drugged   you   and   kept   you   quiet.      the   thing   is   polly   doesn’t   know   what’s   worse,   the   sisters   or   her   own   parents.      she   can’t   forget   how   her   father   tried   to   force   what   he   considered   a   solution   onto   her,   and   she   certainly   doesn’t   forget   all   the   things   her   mother   has   done   and   continues   to   do.      she’ll   apologize,   but   at   this   point   polly   is   convinced   that   alice   never   means   the   words.      like   they   say,   actions   speak   louder   than   words   and   the   cooper   matriarch?      her   actions   spoke   poison.

               ❝   i   have   to   do   right   by   my   babies,   betty.      and   this   house?      everything   that   mom   and   dad   do?      it’s   not   worth   it.      it’s   not   worth   the   stress   or   the   risk   to   my   babies   health.   ❞      the   words   hurt   to   say,   but   it’s   the   truth.      surely   betty   knows   by   now   just   how   awful   their   parents   are.      all   they   care   about   is   their   image,   nothing   more.      ❝   i   don’t   want   to   leave   you…      you’re   the   only   saving   grace   in   my   life   and   this   town.      but   i   need   to   think   about   my   future,   and   the   way   things   are   going   i’m   not   sure   i   want   mom   and   dad   to   be   a   part   of   that   future.   ❞

               judgmental   gaze,   hushed   voices,   it’s   nothing   toni   hasn’t   experience   before.      being   from   the   southside   of   riverdale   usually   elicited   that   reaction,   and   it   was   only   made   worse   being   involved   with   the   serpents.      the   thing   is?      she   didn’t   give   a   shit.      she   was   proud   of   where   she   came   from,   proud   of   who   she   was   and   no   amount   of   northside   prejudice   would   change   that   fact.      she   loved   being   a   part   of   the   southside   serpents,   it   was   a   family.      to   toni,   that   family   was   everything.      she   could   turn   to   them   when   she   needed   supported,   and   in   turn   she   would   support   them   any   way   she   could.

               so   head   is   held   high   as   she   walks   through   the   hallways   of   riverdale   highschool.      she   even   goes   as   far   as   to   wink   at   a   couple   who   stared   her   down.      they   may   think   they   can   bring   down   the   spirits   of   the   newly   transferred   southsiders,   but   they   couldn’t   be   more   wrong.      in   fact,   going   to   school   here   gave   them   so   many   opportunities   to   better   their   education.      it   gave   them   access   to   learning   tools   they   just   didn’t   have   in   southside.      the   ability   to   learn   far   outweighed   any   negativity   given   by   the   northside   students.      so   as   far   as   toni   was   concerned,   they   could   give   it   all   they   have   to   try   and   deter   the   serpents,   but   they   were   here   to   stay.

#behttys #these are idk af;ak;flskf not the best but i tried #i also kinda stopped caring about this show so my muse for anything #related to it is pretty dang low