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sourholland · 2 months

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Guilty as Sin

CHAPTER ONE ; azriel x fem!reader

summary: the lost princess of the dawn court finds herself brazenly escaping her own personal living hell. seeking refuge, as well as peace to plot in the city of velaris—she meets azriel shadowsinger and through the throws of disdain and discomfort they are forced to work side by side, intertwined through their shared scars.

a/n: ok so this first chapter is literally all exposition and world building within this world, i’m so sorry :( i promise that it will very much so pick up. this series is mainly about me exploring different aspects of my writing, i’ve never written a long series before. my longest is 50k and each chapter was about 2k words so this is something i feel really proud to put out, even if it is just the first chapter. if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!! this fic isn’t necessarily inspired by, but is a lot like taylor swift’s new song “guilty as sin?”. feedback always appreciated:)

warnings: strong language, mentions of trauma regarding men, heavy themes of ptsd and suicidal thoughts

spotify playlist (unfinished)

wc: 5.4k

Run.

The word cut through your mind, slicing through each and every thought you possessed as you gazed downwards at your bloodied hands. There was so much blood. Hot, thick blood ran down your forearms, coating your face and the inside of your mouth. Your stomach lurched, however by the grace of the Gods, you fled.

In over fifty years, you had not left this camp. Since you were just a girl, at twelve years old, you had resided within the hidden stone of the warrior camp. Now you had no choice but to utter a quick prayer to the Mother and run fast and furiously forward without looking back. Only the knife you had just used remained sheathed at your hip as you felt the ground beneath your boot-clad feet. There was a cloak pulled around you, it covered your face well and kept you concealed.

What was that saying, you thought silently to yourself in between painful dry heaves. ‘Feet don’t fail me now.’

It was nightfall and you ran tirelessly through the forest you had been warned to never brave on your own. As a child, your mother had warned that you must not meet what lurks after dark. She told you that not even those beasts would mind slaying the Princess of the Dawn Court. To them, the title was useless and your blood was just the same. Blood. You reeked of those warriors' blood and sweat and desperation. It was clad to your skin like a layer of oil or grime, the taste of iron making you spit.

A part of you wondered if you would die out in this forest, no idea where you were or what place Cousin Thesan had brought you so many decades ago. Stopping to lean against a tree, you panted and let the silent tears flow at once. Where were you? For all you knew, he had dropped you within the Continents and only used very good wards to keep the camp hidden. Why had you let them take you? What hadn’t you fought harder against Thesan’s word as Amarantha began exercising power among Prythian.

You had no answer, but only began to run once again. There was no choice, unless you planned to slit your own throat and simply give up. No. You are a warrior, you are a fighter and nothing would keep you from finding your cousin and demanding answers for his crimes. That’s what his actions were to you, criminal and inhumane and you would not be surprised if in the end–you adorned his blood on your hands as well.

“Who dares enter this part of my forest?” A voice drawled from nowhere in particular, causing you to flinch and raise the dagger shakily in defense. “What is your name, girl?”

The voice came from the trees, you swore to yourself. It came in whisps and wind, the blackness of the forest making it impossible for you to determine where exactly the source was. If there was a source. It omitted what you swore was a chuckle, an unfamiliar sound to you for so long. Sweat collected at the nape of your neck and temples, hair stuck down to your forehead and your skin blazed as you continued to rotate in full circles with your dagger pointed at nothing.

“Y/N, Princess of Dawn and Bringer of Light. What is your business in dwelling here? This is no place for a young Fae girl. Especially one so sweet as yourself, and you wear the blood of ten men. It is as if you hope to die tonight,” the voice whispered, a hot, invisible breath on your neck. “Do you hope to die tonight?”

“No,” you finally spoke into the abyss. “I hope to locate my homelands, I am in search of the High Lord of the Dawn Court. Show yourself.”

The voice ignored your demand, “leave this forest, Princess. For the ones hunting you are far worse than those warriors you slaughtered miles back.”

The stiff cloth of your dress began to itch beneath your robes and you stood taller than before as the voice surrounded you. Perhaps you would die tonight, at least you would have gone out thrashing and fighting until your final breath. There was a mild ache behind your brow and the night sky showed no signs of daybreak.

“And why have you refrained from killing me?” You finally asked, shifting back and forth and contemplating whether or not to begin running again.

“I possess no body. I am nothing but the wind and the trees and the breeze against your skin,” it hummed, cynically. “Cross the river up ahead and veer left, the path will lead you out of the forest and into the countryside where at least you will not be hunted for sport and strewn up and cut open for the creatures that dwell here to eat you alive.”

A cold chill ran up your spine and left your fingers to form fists.The spirit-like being was gone as fast as it had stumbled upon you. How did you know, you wondered idly for a moment. Its presence was absent, the air feeling more desolate and empty than it had moments before. It could very well be a trick, a way to lure you into its very trap and do exactly as it said.

You continued on to the river and went left, just as the being had told you to, as it had cooed into the shell of your ear. It was only about a mile later and you were coming into a dark clearing where animals lay sleeping along large acres of land. There were cows and sheeps first, then you saw pens of pigs and chicken coops further. Looking back, you saw how truly terrifying the forest was in comparison to the moonlit field.There were a set of yellow eyes staring out at you, but as soon as you blinked they were gone as if they were never there to begin with. While you knew you would never know, you threw a prayer up to the Mother regardless and hoped that the breeze-like thing that had most likely saved your life was at peace.

There was very little you could do besides walk along the outskirts of the land and hope to find some inclination of where to locate your court. Your court. The Dawn Court was filled with your people, people who had not seen you in five decades. The memories of your childhood were like knives in your gut, twisting and turning until finally you expelled them from your mind and breathed in deeply. The trek was long and you walked all through the night with no direction of where to go or what to do with yourself. There were not exactly any signs pointing you towards your home, or once home. Now you had no home, the camp was much more like a prison than a home to you.

“Are you lost?” A little Fae girl spoke, taking in your appearance as she found you still walking along the countryside that next morning. She did not appear to be scared, however she was very young and held a basket of wildflowers in her hand.

“Yes,” you almost cried at the sight of her, another human and a female at that. It had been fifty three years since you had encountered someone of the same sex. “Where am I?”

“I live just beyond that hill. You are in the Dawn Court,” she said wearily, pointing over and beyond the hill that sat a few hundred yards away. “Should I fetch my father to help you?”

“No,” you said, knowing well what you had done the night prior and how you appeared. “I am looking to get to the Dawn Court Palace, do you know where I might be able to find it?”

The girl, no more than nine, looked over you once again and it was as if she was assessing your soul. She drew her lips into a fine line and set the basket down to begin spouting off some directions. You nodded, taking in all of them with careful consideration and noting that the spirit had led you onto the right track for some odd reason. Once the girl had finished, she merely bowed her head and turned back towards her house.

.·:*¨☆◦✦◦☆¨*:·.

The Palace was nothing like you had remembered it. It was so much brighter and broader than you recalled within the narrow escape of your child-mind. The Dawn Court Palace gleamed under the beaming sun that had been burning your skin for hours as you followed the little girl’s instructions.

It was so vast and yet it seemed to call out to you, there was a long way to get to even one of the many stairs leading up to the Palace and so many guards standing tall at every entrance you could see. There was no way in, you thought. Not when you look as you do. Would any of these men even know who you are, you wondered.

“Who goes there?” A loud voice bellowed, bringing you away from your thoughts.

Who says who goes there, you thought. Prick.

Well it looks like Cousin Thesan spared no expense in making sure no one went in unnoticed, you rolled your eyes internally and spun on your heels to meet the look of the brooding male who wielded his weapon against you. He did not recognize you, as you had expected. His eyebrow had a long scar going through it and he held a blade in his hand, waiting for an explanation.

“Stand down!” You matched his tone, standing tall while the male practically laughed in your face.

“You are lucky that I have not already gutted you for crossing into our territory–”

The sound of you swallowing hard could be heard from even where he stood. You planted your feet and let all of those lessons on looking the part of royalty run over you. The guard was cut off by your sharp and fierce voice, “I am Y/N, Princess of Dawn! Stand down or don’t. I can’t say that I really care either way, but you very well might when I cut out your tongue and feed it back down your throat.”

The man went rigid for a moment and he took in a sharp breath. He seemed to be assessing you, his eyes scanned your frame while his weapon remained as it was. A part of you wondered if he thought you were bluffing, however the dried blood seemed to tell him everything he needed to know. He maintained his authoritative stance, only drawing back to call over some of his men. He whispered something into one male’s ear and his face went blanche. He looked over you with such careful consideration and shock, his eyes wide open and doe-like from where you stood.

“You claim to be the Lost Princess?” He finally spoke, tilting his head to the side to expose a long, fleshy scar across his neck.

“Well the last that I checked–I am the only Princess of the Dawn Court, however I am most certainly not lost, sir. I do wish to speak to my cousin, though,” you requested, earnestly. “As soon as possible.”

The Lost Fucking Princess. Who even comes up with this bullshit?

One of the males who adorned guard-like clothing brought you into the Palace wearily. He did not lay a hand on you, but motioned you to walk in front of him as if you posed some sort of threat. Perhaps you did, killing Thesan had crossed your mind once or twice. The idea of watching him writhe excited you quite a bit. The thought nearly brought a smile to your lips, only managing to suppress it when you began climbing the steps.

.·:*¨☆◦✦◦☆¨*:·.

The male brought you to a throne room, sunlight dancing along the walls and spilling onto the floors. Everything was so magnificent, the aura of the room was nothing short of golden. Blood boiled within you as you recalled all of the years you had wasted away to nothing, hidden in that rotting, despicable camp where all you ate was leftover meat scraps and watered-down soup for over fifty years.

Thesan sat at the forefront of the room, he wore a crown and spoke to the male at his right in a hushed whisper. It was almost as if he did not know you were here, like he was uninformed of your arrival in his court. When the male who brought you in nearly tripped over his feet to murmur into Thesan’s ear, you had your answer. Your cousin’s eyes snapped towards you in an instant, he rose to his feet immediately and you swore you could feel the blood pumping in your ears. With a hot face and white knuckles, you barreled towards him with the intent to kill.

“You promised me! You promised me!” Your magic rippled across the room as you shouted, pure rage causing the ground to shake. “You left me there to rot like vermin! How could you?”

With tunnel vision, the two men who had been holding you back were nearly invisible as the ground continued to shake violently. Thesan was silent, his eyes were wide with genuine revelation and disbelief. Thrashing and clawing and screaming was all you could do. He had taken years from you, good years that had been ripped away and stolen from you as a child.

“You’re nothing but a fucking liar, Thesan. We share blood! I am your family and you threw me out to the wolves. I was twelve years old and you abandoned me. I trusted you with my life. My life!” you cried and flinched at the guards’ hands. “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

The two men who held you were sent flying backwards by an invisible force, your magic had been provoked and was now rippling off of you in waves. Thesan approached with his hands out, he still had not spoken a word. With a wave, he cleared the room and it was only the two of you left standing.

“Y/N,” he said in a soft hush. “Please just allow me to explain–”

“Explain? Explain how you brought me to your sick fucking camp when I was a girl and lied to everyone under the guise of my protection? Explain how after three months, your letters and visits stopped? Oh, perhaps you plan to explain how you left me to live with ten cursed warriors for over five decades and I have to find out six days ago that Amarantha was defeated by a human girl years ago as I still sat by idly waiting for my dear Cousin Thesan to retrieve me from my own personal living hell?” The words were like knives, piercing Thesan one after another as you resisted the urge to rip out his throat. “Explain, go ahead.”

Thesan could not believe his eyes, nor the venom spewing from your lips. He surveyed your too-thin figure and cold eyes, how they had changed so much since he had last seen you as a small girl. Everything you said was true, to some degree. He could not deny any of it, however he had not realized how the camp had treated you. He had not banished you, but relocated you for reasons of his own before Amarantha could rise to full power. When Thesan caught word of what had begun under the mountain, he made rash decisions and sacrifices that he was not proud of and would have to live with for the rest of his immortal life.

“Y/N, I did send you away for your protection. Do you believe that my brother would have let me live if I sent his only child away to live in squalor while we all reside in a palace? I sent you away because my people were being ripped from their homes and your mere existence puts a target on your back,” he said, steadily. “A Princess, the sole heir to the Dawn Court. It is unheard of. When my brother’s mate–your mother–birthed a girl, our people were ecstatic. As years passed and Amarantha began her show of power, everyone grew antsy for my heir. I tried, I remain trying to produce an heir to this court.”

You shook your head, hot tears running down your dirt-crusted cheeks. “Not good enough,” your voice cracked.

“Please, just hear my words,” he begged you. “When you were twelve years old, I assumed tensions were at their height and our people grew restless. Amarantha had begun slaughtering innocent Fae across Prythian and with no heir, whispers surfaced of the Princess of the Dawn Court. A female heir, one who reeked of power at that. Males who would never kneel before a female began to place bounties on your head, terrified that I would be slayed and there would be no one but you to resume my place.”

Thesan breathed deep, but continued. “I told my brother that the safest option would be to make you disappear. We would claim that you were hunted by Amarantha’s loyal subjects, nowhere to be found. I gathered some of my strongest men who had committed wrongdoings within my court and banished them to the camp where they would be tied until I liberated you.”

“You locked me away with criminals!” You seethed, already knowing but surprised at his willingness to utter the words freely. “How do you think your filthy, touch-starved, vile men acted once I had first bled?”

“This is where I have committed wrong,” he whispered. “It was only supposed to be a year, maybe two while I gained footing and figured out a way to take back what Amarantha had stolen from me. Three months after I sent you away, she captured the entirety of this court. Every court, save for Spring, went Under the Mountain. You were concealed, hidden so well by my wards, that she never even bothered to go looking for you. She believed that her own subjects had killed and discarded you. That was the extent at which things had gotten, she merely trusted the death of the Princess of the Dawn Court was another insignificant casualty to her reign. Everyone believed you to be dead. My letters stopped because I was trapped, my power basically nothing compared to what it once was.”

The truth washed over you slowly, blinking away tears but staying put and shaking your head at him. It was still not good enough, it would never be good enough. For fifty-three years you had known nothing but scraps and gangly men and the dirt underneath your bleeding fingernails.

“It has been years since Amarantha was defeated,” you gritted out. “Defeated by a human girl–”

“Feyre Cursebreaker, High Lady of the Night Court and human no longer. Myself and the other High Lords used our power to bring her back from death as High Fae,” he told you. “I know you will never forgive me for not retrieving you immediately, however we entered a gruesome war against Hybern and have only just begun to recover and rehabilitate. It is no excuse, I know this. I hoped by now that I would have an heir, nothing has changed in regards to how your existence might be received by this court.”

He had left you there while everyone rejoiced in their freedoms, fought on the frontlines of battle, and then even still once we had won. Nothing but pure, unadulterated rage consumed you and yet all you could muster up was a pathetic noise straight from your throat. He had done all of this because he simply was not capable of bearing a child and assumed that you’re suffering was all the more worth it if he could fuck his way to the ideal future High Lord of Dawn. All men are the same, you thought with a sickness churning within you.

“You are a sick excuse for a man,” was all you spat. “Where are my parents?”

“Dead,” he lowered his head. “They died swiftly, soon after we arrived Under the Mountain.”

The gift that just keeps on giving, you thought whilst holding back a near sob. He gazed upon you with pity, finally taking you in wholly. The blood. There was so much blood and he could tell from the scent that it did not belong solely to you.

“What of the men at the camp?”

“Dead,” you replied, just as he had. “I cannot say they went swiftly, as I slaughtered them all.”

The images of blood spewing and spilled flashed across the forefront of your mind, the way that some of them went quick and others went begging for a semblance of mercy. You looked down at your palms, flexing your fingers and feeling the energy throughout your entire body. It pulsed at the tips of your fingers, throbbed in the heels of your feet, and thrummed at the backs of your eyes. Over the years, there had been no one to teach you to manage it so more often than not it consumed you whole.

You could kill him, you let the idea wash over you. Or at least you could try. In his home with all of his warriors, it would prove difficult. He was the High Lord, your High Lord–no, death was too swift and simple. You would need time to plan out your next steps, you pondered whilst maintaining a stone cold facade. You would have to play your cards right, he would deal with you based on how you acted as you stood before him. Truthfully, the idea of living with him puts you on the brink of physical sickness. You would rather die than be forced to stay under the same roof, lips curling slightly with disgust as he gave you another look filled with shame and guilt.

“I will not stay here,” was all you spat at him. “Not here, not in this court with you, I wish to be sent elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere? Do you understand what will come of your sudden return to our lands?” Thesan’s eyes were fixed on you, his voice near hoarse. “Y/N, I know that–”

“I will not stay here. I ask this one thing of you. I will not spread word of your pathetic sterileness, nor my title to the Dawn Court if you will simply offer me this one thing. Do you not owe it to me?”

While the immense grief and pain in your voice was authentic, you made sure to create the illusion of your complete and utter wreckage. Mustering up tears, you had to get out of this place. There was no possibility of your survival if not, not even at the hands of these so-called people out for your blood–but at the hands of yourself. Every bit of you was exhausted, conveying complete and utter devastation into your eyes as he debated your request.

Do you not owe it to me?

Thesan rubbed violently at the bridge of his nose and nodded to himself, he squeezed his eyes shut and for a moment you remembered the admiration you once felt for him. Admiration turned into blazing resentment and rage that had nearly created an earthquake. He wouldn’t force you to reside here under him, would he?

“I will do my best at making other… arrangements,” said Thesan after a few moments of tense silence. “I make no promises, as we may very well be approaching the brink of another war, however in the meantime you should wash up.”

A breath of relief escaped you, “what of the guards who know who I am? I told them.”

“I should like to call in a favor from Rhysand,” he murmured, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

.·:*¨☆◦✦◦☆¨*:·.

“Leave me, please” you said to the servants gently, thanking them for the filled tub and fresh gown that was laid out for you within the spare bedroom and adjacent bathing room.

Everything was so prim and proper and doused in sunlight, it made you nostalgic for a life that once was. The water was steaming, layers of blood and grime covering you as you sunk down into the tub. The magic of the tub was forced to refresh itself almost as soon as you sat, growing murky immediately as you began to scrub your skin raw.

Would it be easier to drown yourself, you breathed a shallow breath. No, someone was posted outside of the bedroom door listening in. A guard, most likely. He would hear, putting an end to your pathetic excuse of a suicide attempt and then Thesan would never let you leave. Or maybe he would, perhaps your untimely death was just what he hoped for in order to rid himself of the problems you presented him with.

Getting clean felt impossible, even with the tub enchanted to replace its filthy water. Your hair was oily and your skin remained covered in a film of grease. It took over an hour just for you to feel somewhat clean. At the camp, there had thankfully been a tub with running water and an enchantment of certain supplies so you never went without. Food, however, was hunted for you and everyone else. As the only female, every night you received what was left on the bone of whatever animal they had slaughtered in the nearby woods, eating last time and time again.

One of the servants came in to help you dress in the gown custom to the Dawn Court, it fell to your ankles and glistened with what you could have sworn was pure sunlight. The tall woman braided your hair back and applied rogue to your cheeks and an oil to your lips. As you gazed into the mirror before you, you could hardly recognize yourself for the first time in five decades. There was something so regal about you, a light cascading off of you like an aura of gold. Thesan possessed the same coloring, the light pouring out from him in bouts of power.

The woman knew who you were, you could tell that much from the way her eyes danced across your reflection. She said nothing, though. You thanked her, smiling softly as if she had not just seen you covered in days old blood and filth. The Lost Princess, you recalled what the male had referred to you as outside. She has no idea what to think of you, it seems. Maybe that was for the best, perhaps you were better as the shadow of a girl who once was but no longer existed. Instead, some sort of killer prowled beneath your now eternally crimson stained skin.

“The High Lord has called for you,” the woman said softly, pulling you from your thoughts and causing your eyes to drift to meet her gaze in the reflection of the mirror.

Once you had begun your trek back to the same room as earlier, the sun had begun to fall and the sky was painted endless shades of pink and orange. There was so much open space, all of the windows gaping to allow for as much sunlight as possible during the daytime. You had never felt so exhausted, eyes burning from the lack of sleep you had acquired on your journey and the use of power earlier on in the day.

When you entered the room, Thesan was in conversation with a man that you could only assume was Rhysand. He was attractive in an almost inconceivable way, like one of the Gods. None of the males at the camp had resembled anything like him, no one in the Dawn Court resembled anything like him. Lucky High Lady, you thought mindlessly. Rhysand seemed to chuckle at nothing, turning to meet your gaze.

“Princess,” he greeted you with the friendly upturning of his lips. “Welcome back from the dead is in order, I suppose. I’m Rhys.”

“Funny,” you huffed a stiff laugh at him and extended a hand for him to grasp. Power ricocheted off of Rhysand in a way that caused your stomach to flip. “Y/N.”

His eyes simmered with something like pity mixed with amusement, he was not blind to the fact that you still had not looked Thesan in his eyes. Rhysand had been steadfast in arriving at the Dawn Court, his solemn look told you that he had been briefed on some of what was going on. How much, though? What had Thesan deemed important enough to share and what was determined as insignificant. Clearly as you had been cast away as insignificant, he could not be trusted to relay information.

“Rhysand has consulted with his High Lady and they have agreed to offer you a place to stay in the Night Court for as long as you should require it,” Thesan informed you.

“At what cost?”

“No cost,” Rhysand assured you at once. “Thesan has… told me of your circumstances–”

“What circumstances?” You demanded, cutting him off. “What did he tell you?”

There was a tense silence as you grew flustered and aggravated by your cousin. Thesan knew nothing of your circumstances, he knew absolutely nothing of what you had endured. Rhysand had strangely given you a look of understanding, it was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Like he had been inside of your mind, reliving the experiences with you.

“He told me of your power, he told me you have yet to learn how to wield it as well. He says that he senses you may have inherited more than just his healing gifts, but that the nature of your identity is sensitive. I admit that I do have to agree with him in concealing your return, Princess–for now, at least,” Rhyand only looked to you, his words carefully chosen so as not to upset you. “I have a house in Velaris, the city where I live, it houses three people as of late. My two brothers, Azriel and Cassian, and my mate’s sister Nesta. You would stay there, it is secluded enough that you will have as much privacy as you desire. I spoke with my healer Madja, she has agreed to allow you to work under her in an apprenticeship of sorts. She’s one of the best, not just in Velaris but anywhere in Prythian. I feel you both may be able to benefit from each other, her experience and your magic. My cousin Mor has offered to train with you once she arrives home from Vallahan on business, until then one of my brothers–”

You cut him off again, “Training? I do not wish to offend you, but why should I need your family to train me?”

“Y/N,” he began, assessing how honest he should be. “You have no muscle built up whatsoever and considering the fact that you have no hold on your own power–I suspect that your ‘training’ consists of the intent to kill and luck. In Velaris you would learn to fight and hopefully hone some of that power.”

It was this or nothing, you knew that. Either you would remain in the Dawn Court, or you would go with Rhysand and figure it out from there. Thesan’s face was now unreadable as you looked between both of the High Lords.

“All the while I hide away so that no one knows my true identity?”

“No,” Rhysand responded. “You have matured, when you left this court you were only a girl. No one in Velaris will question you once I dim some of that power coming off of you. My inner circle knows your true identity, however to everyone else you will be ordinary High Fae. This is partially why you’ll work under Madja.”

Nodding slowly, you consider your options or lack thereof. Rhysand seemed genuine enough, you thought to yourself and could have swore he smiled slightly. Giving Thesan a once over, you met those violet eyes and nodded slowly.

“Alright, I’ll go to Velaris.”

#azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel #acotar #acotar x reader

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astromechs · 11 months

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ok, i did barbenheimer, so here are some assorted thoughts about both films (i am discussing potential "spoilers" for both, so look away if you don't want these):

on paper, and in experience, this is the wildest double feature to do. barbie and oppenheimer could not be two more different films, in terms of tone, aesthetic, and themes; on the one hand, you have a treatise on feminism in the guise of one of the most widely known decades-old ip, and on the other, you have a complicated biopic about the complicated figure who developed the atomic bomb.

and yet, there is a heart and soul linking these two films, and i actually think seeing them in the double feature makes them work: it's care and craftsmanship. these are two films made by people who actually care about cinema as an artform, and it's such a breath of fresh air compared to a lot of the dreck we've been getting out of major studios and wide releases, especially over the past decade.

barbie is not an independent film; you guys are silly, and you need to get that out of your heads. mattell's name is literally on it lol BUT. what this story turns out to be is something pretty unique in terms of today's cinematic landscape. it's a thoughtful treatise on feminism and gender roles on all sides of the equation — the unrealistic expectations put on women, the emptiness that drives men into upholding patriarchy, the absolute absurdity it is on all counts to let ourselves be consumed by this instead of getting to be ourselves and figure out who we actually are. loved every second of it.

also: "i lost interest in patriarchy when i learned it wasn't about horses", like, line of the year.

oppenheimer manages to distinguish itself from the sludge of oscar bait biopics, because, well, because of the craftsmanship of christopher nolan, but also because, in particular, it has such strong thematic focus. it is both a story about oppenheimer, the complicated figure who unleashed something terrible on the world, and the story of the plight of the scientist; just because you can do something, does it mean you should? when you put a dangerous tool into someone else's hands, is it their hands who have the responsibility for how it's used, or is it you, for creating it in the first place?

these are questions that i think the film wrestles with very adeptly, and it doesn't provide easy answers — because there are none. oppenheimer himself spent the remainder of his life wrestling with his own complicated legacy, and the film really captures the spirit of that. the final shot really makes that stick.

both of these films had clear vision for what they wanted to say, clear care and craftsmanship involved, and as someone who genuinely loves cinema and has felt so disheartened seeing shit upon shit being flung into theaters in wide release, i deeply appreciate both of these films, and i don't regret the experience of doing the double feature, because it was really something special — even if, whew, i'm going to need about five business days to process all of this.

#barbenheimer #barbie #oppenheimer #anyway i loved both of them

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 5 months

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Gay wrongs tournament, semifinals of the losers bracket

Propaganda:

For Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu:

you've got the founder of the fantasy ancient Chinese CIA and the leader of what is essentially the mafia and then they're soulmates and in love. they're both willing to kill anyone who dares hurt the other while also just wanting a soft domestic life together

Zhou Zishu is an assassin and spymaster who put the current Emperor on the throne, and then quit his job by faking his death (kinda, hes still dying but not as fast as he was supposed to). Had done A Lot on his old job, including murdering children (more than one, and at least one of them in a way I can't even describe without several trigger warnings), exterminating whole families, war crimes (and i dont mean this in a buzzword way, i mean "organized a public execution of foreign diplomats during war time")… btw he doesn't feel particularly bad about any of this, because he believes it was necessary. Like he wouldn't do it for fun, but he thinks the ends (putting a good Emperor on the throne) justified the means (all of the atrocities). As a retiree, he definitely cut down on the amount of morally reprehensible murder, but not murder in general. He still routinely kills ppl, he just doesn't go out of his way to kill more. Wen Kexing, meanwhile, is the Ghost Valley Master - Ghost Valley being a place where the worst of criminals are exiled. Even in such a place, he has reputation as a complete lunatic, owed partially to the fact that he either skinned a man or fed him his own flesh or both at one point, and partially to him having a rule where he would kill anyone who came closer than 3 meters to him. But in truth, everything he'd done was to survive the Ghost Valley and eventually take revenge for his parents, who were brutally murdered when he was only nine. By the start of the novel's timeline, he put his plan in motion - the plan that would drown jianghu in blood, but also deliver poetic justice to all responsible for his parents' deaths, as well as all who'd commit the same crime given the chance. And these two men, these two murderers and schemers, meet - and unexpectedly, find in each other the person who /understands/. The person who is just as ruthless and whose hands are just as bloody, but also the person who knows standing at the top of the world is not worth it, who seeks the same freedom of leaving it all behind, and who is still, underneath it all, a human, with human heart seeking connection. So you have this couple who understand each other with barely a word, and who want the same things - who are so hungry for domesticity and for people they can just goof around with when all their lives they had to measure every step and word - but ALSO where one half a couple is like "i gotta go murder hundreds in revenge" and the other half is like "ok pick you up at 6". (This btw is why I'm submitting novel's iteration of the couple in particular. Show wenzhou with their ridiculous breakups over morality could Never.) Also they were both hiding who they are when they first met, and later flirted about having figured each other out. Finally, I'll leave you my favorite quote that just. perfectly sums up their relationship: "And just like that, they fell asleep in each other's arms, steeped in the smell of blood."

You’ve probably already had submissions for them but I’ll add on. One of them founded an assassin’s guild and killed a staggering number of people. His malewife is the leader of a sect of insane murderous outcasts, and he attained his position by proving to be the most crazy and murder happy of them all. Most of the plot involves him wandering around watching his schemes get more people killed. Together they adopt a kid that was only orphaned due to said scheming (oops). They’re terrible and I love them.

For Legolas and Gimli:

They literally have a running competition between the two over who has more kills. And non-canon my ass, Legolas took Gimli to valinor

They kill alot of orcs together. They make it into a competition. Better minds than i have spoken about the couple ness

#losers bracket semifinals #word of honor #lotr #lord of the rings #legolas #gimli #wen kexing #zhou zishu

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intimacyequalsdeath · 8 months

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Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 13: Hellboy (Pumpkin Spice)

Friday the 13 in October no less! Happy 13th of Fictober besties as always I hope you've all been enjoying these fics especially this weeks smutty fics and I hope your excited for more festivities in the next couple weeks of Fictober.

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut, Spice and everything nice. No specific pronouns or descriptions are used though the reader does work as an exotic dancer.

"You said you were ok with it! you knew what I did for work before we got together Red. Why the hell is it a problem now?" You slammed open the door to your dressing room as he followed behind you into the room.

Red had just recently got back from a mission and had come to see you at the club you worked as a dancer at. Something he always did when he got back except this time he had a stick up his ass.

"Well yeah things change toots, Especially when I show up and see all these other men drooling over you" You rolled your eyes.

"Red I tell you all the time, those guys don't matter. I just need their money you're the only one that matters to me" You understood he was jealous but you didn't understand what his issue was.

You watched as he huffed some more and briefly paced the room before sitting on the old faux leather couch you had put in the corner specifically for him to come and visit you at the club. You went and sat next to him, forgetting that you had come back to your dressing room to changed out of your skimpy attire and into street clothes.

"What's wrong red? I can't fix anything if you don't talk to me" You ran your hand up and down his arm trying to coax him to talk.

"All those men out there that aren't well ya know" He said softly

"They aren't want honey?"

"They aren't like me, their normal" He said. You're heart broke.

"Baby, You are normal, You're my normal. You're everything I could've ever hoped to find in a man. I don't care about all those rich dicks out there. The only man in the entire world I care about is you."

You watched as Hellboy processed your words, His face not giving anything away quite yet as he thought for a moment. Your eyes met his and you offered him a smile he couldn't help but to grin himself before looking away bashfully.

"You mean it?" He asked almost a playful tone to his voice.

"Of course I do. I fucking love you, plus no one can handle me like you can baby" You moved into his laps running your hands up and down his chest as you lost yourself into his eyes.

"Hey I'm sorry baby I uh, I guess I just got into my own head again" He told you, wrapping his giant arms around your waist.

"It's ok my love, I understand" You told him, pressing kisses to his face then his lips.

Your arms went around his neck as he took over the kiss. You pulled away a bit so he could fully take in your outfit choice for the night, It was a barley there number with accents in a particular color that resembled your demon boyfriend.

"Do you like my outfit baby?" You asked him playfully. He grinned.

"Course I do, red looks real good on you ya know" You both laughed.

"Ya know I'm kinda partial to red myself" His hands moved up to the zipper in the back of the outfit to take it off of you.

"Really? and why's that?"

"I don't know honestly, I've just always really liked it" He moved the fabric down your body as you started running your hands down his again.

He let the fabric drop to the floor when he finally had it completely off you, His hands made their way back to your waist working their way up to your chest as he slid his fingers over your nipples as he took in your bare form. It wasn't anything new to him obviously but he always liked to take you in like a fine art painting that he was seeing for the first time.

"You know Red I'm feeling a bit underdressed here" You said nodding to the fact that he was still fully clothed. He smirked at you and allowed you to work his shirt over his head before unbuckling his pants.

Once his pants were down, His cock sprang free smacking against his stomach. Precum already leaking out of the top of it before you had even touched anything.

You took his cock into your hand giving it a few strokes before guiding it to your entrance. He pushed into you slowly as always giving you time to adjust to his size as obviously his dick much like everything else about him is huge. Once you had adjusted to his size you gave him the go ahead by beginning to slowly bounce up and down.

He chucked at your eagerness before thrusting hard up into you before you could come back down on top of him. You gasped at the feeling of him all the way inside you, you reveled in how full he always made you feel. Your eyes rolling back into your head as you stopped for a minute just to feel him completely.

Hellboy made no move to continue to thrust so you could tell he liked the feeling of being inside you too. You put your hands behind your legs onto to his knees allowing yourself to lean back for a new angle.

"Red please, Fuck me" You pleaded breathlessly.

"What good manners you have for daddy huh?" He teased before fulfilling exactly what you wanted.

You could feel as your mixing juices were sliding down your thighs making both your laps a mess. The only sound echoing through the room other then your moans and his grunts was the slapping of skin on skin as he fucked up into you making a mess of the both of you.

He brought a giant hand up to gently wrap it around your neck. Using this as leverage he began slamming you onto his cock by your neck, his other hand holding you behind your back to keep you steady.

"Red I- I can't It's, It's" You gasped out grabbing at his chest, He made no move to stop though.

"Nah Baby, I know you can take it and you're going to take it" He commanded.

Your legs fell even more open, if that was even possible, at his words and the only words able to come from your mouth after that were incoherent mumbles in-between your moans.

You felt your walls begin to tighten as he leaned over to kiss and suck on your neck, leaving love bites as he went to further mark you as his. Suddenly here your orgasm was, You cried out as you could feel yourself wrap around his cock as he also came inside you. Your juices mixing together and making an even bigger mess.

Once you both had came he took you gently off his lap and laid you on the couch next to him as you both caught your breath.

"Hey baby you with me?" He asked, taking a cigar out of his discarded coat pocket and lighting it before taking a hand and gently rubbing your back. Wary of your ability to speak your nodded at him and he smiled.

"I'm fine Red, You just wear me out" You gave a soft laugh.

"You think your gonna be ok to walk out of here back to the apartment?" He asked, but something told you he already knew the answer.

"Probably not, You gonna be up to carry me?" You asked, knowing full well nothing stroked his ego more then having to carry you after he fucked you.

"Babydoll nothing would bring me more pleasure then carrying my baby home" Your eyes met his as you both grinned at each other like love sick fools.

Something told you Hellboy was never gonna have to worry about old rich dickheads ever again.

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #hellboy #hellboy 2004 #hellboy 2 the golden army #hellboy x reader #hellboy smut #Fictober #Halloween

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lisbeth-kk · 1 month

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May prompts

Today's prompt: familiar.

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 3)

Summary: A trip to the seaside leaves a vivid memory, forever etched into Rosie's mind palace.

Three Years Old

My first memory I remember vividly, occurred when we were at the seaside. I do recall bits and bobs from before this particular memory, but it’s a bit of a blur, not crystal clear like the one at the seaside near Brighton.

The pebbles fascinated me endlessly. How they sounded when we walked on them, the different shades of colour, their shape, the salty and stony taste.

I was trying to find flat pebbles to build a tower, and that’s when I heard Dad speaking. He uttered the same words to me on a daily basis, but not in that tone of voice.

“I love you.”

It was hushed, sincere, and I felt a warmth set in my chest. I was about to turn my head to reciprocate, when Sherlock spoke. His voice was deeper than normal.

“I love you too, John.”

Can a three-year-old be as considerate as I picture me in my mind? If my memory serves me right, the answer is yes.

Dad and Sherlock didn’t realise that I turned carefully to watch them, and when they came back to reality, I had continued my tower creation.

What I saw, is forever etched in my mind, and sometimes that, by now familiar image, brings tears to my eyes. It always makes me happy, so yes, the tears are the happy kind, or sentimental if you will.

Dad was sitting on the blanket and had his arm slung around Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock’s hand cupped Dad’s face and the look in his eyes was so soft. It was reminiscent of how he looked at me, but there was more to it. Another kind of love, I realised later. He closed his eyes when his lips met Dad’s in what looked like a soft kiss, but there was nothing chaste about it.

Somehow my instincts told me that this was a private moment, so I turned around to give them privacy. I managed to stack six pebbles before the tower fell. My cry of frustration made the two men in my life come to the rescue.

We walked down to the water to throw pebbles, and Dad managed to make his pebble bounce five times before it sunk. He was quite proud of that. Particularly because Sherlock only managed three.

I think I had decided to keep my mouth shut about catching Dad and Sherlock kissing, but can a three-year-old keep a secret? Clearly not me. Evidently, subtlety wasn’t quite my forte either. Every single person in the train carriage learned that I, Rosie Watson, had caught the consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, kissing my dad, Doctor John Watson.

“But that’s ok. Because they love each other!” I exclaimed with a flourish, not unlike one of Sherlock’s gestures.

“It’s the West End next for you, young lady,” Sherlock stated dryly, seemingly undeterred, while Dad blushed profusely.

“What is West End?” I asked, curious about my next destination in life.

“Antics and escapades,” Sherlock murmured, which left me none the wiser.

Also available on AO3

Taggings in the replies, for reasons...

#may prompts 2024 #may 3: familiar #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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olderthannetfic · 1 month

Note

I think for me, one of the big stumbling blocks I had for a long time with understanding the problem with antis and how they act is that I came from the world of anime fandom, and I have seen all the time how the idea that you're expected to be tolerant and accepting to straight men who are really into lolicon or slavery isekai or whatever in the name of "sex positivity" does in fact lead into a lot of normalization of genuine creepy IRL behavior, and ignoring red flags for those. Because I've never met a man where doing a lot of apologetics for his interest in fictional 10-year-olds as a grown man or why you just need to understand that in this fictional culture sexual slavery is totally normal etc. didn't come along with some grosser attitudes about real women in girls - look at how a ton of the guys in the first group, for instance, are always trying to argue that "Japanese culture" is actually A-OK with relationships between young teens and grown adults and it's just your mean feminist American bias that's getting in your way. (None of that shit's true about Japan, btw.) Like if it were a purely fictional-preference thing, they wouldn't be saying that about real-world relationships as well.

But see, I have literally never seen those kinds of arguments from, say, women who write fanfiction about teen/adult relationships. To me the problem with a lot of anti behavior is not just that it's pro-censorship (which I oppose on principle, I don't think any of the stuff mentioned in the previous section should be censored, for instance, much as the prevalence of lolicon in anime squicks me out) and that it's puritanical and sex-negative, but also that it goes after the wrong people. There IS a huge creeper problem in fandom but it's largely not coming from the predominantly AFAB and queer world of fanfiction and shipping, most of whom are pretty good at separating fantasy from reality. Or their "fucked up" ship might not even be "their" fantasy but just thinking a particular character dynamic is really interesting and it happens to fit into some particular "problematic" broader dynamic. Sometimes it's specifically that it's fucked up that we like, that's what makes it interesting!

But I do get uncomfortable sometimes when people take the fact that censorship is wrong, harassing people for what they ship is wrong, what you like in fiction is not necessarily what you want in real relationships.... and take it to the extreme of "fiction has no impact on reality / there is never ANY connection between what gets you off in fiction vs. real life" (I do think it's rarely an exact 1:1, but for some people there is a connection), or feeling like you're never allowed to just privately judge people for what porn they're into or they talk about or post about when they go horny on main, or decide you don't particularly want to have, say, cis men who are super into loli as a part of your social circle.

Because I've seen cases where men use that, and other people being shamed for taking issue with how they talk about it because it's not "sex positive" or "you're just like an anti" etc., to raise the temperature on what kinds of creepy and red-flag behaviors are allowed. Or like, people start to get suspicious of things these guys are doing to real people, and question themselves because they worry they're just judging them for liking loli.

I mean, is it wrong to think that a guy who is really into underage girls AND talks a lot about how culture needs to "normalize" it AND makes people feel bad for being uncomfortable with that particular interest of his, is throwing up a lot of red flags for how he's likely to view real women and girls and IRL sexuality?

Once again, I've basically never seen cases where a fanfic writer (other than in some cis-man-heavy fandoms like MLP) who is into some "squicky" dynamic feels like they have to constantly talk about it even to people who are uncomfortable, or feels like they're not "accepted" in a space where they can't constantly bring it up. Maybe they exist. But then maybe it's fair to say that behavior is creepy in a way that just peacefully shipping [whatever "problematic" dynamic] and writing and reading fic for it is not.

But I've seen people be like "a lot of you act like 'well that behavior is only problematic when cis het white men do it' well no i think you're still sex-negative if you're against ANYBODY liking it" and like I'm sorry but power dynamics matter, and HOW you talk about this and to WHOM matters and I think it's just kind of ignorant to act like there isn't a huge difference between how a lot of cis men in anime fandom talk about this shit vs. other kinds of people in fanfic fandom, and that the former is very much informed by the fact that cis men and especially cis het men have cultural power that they are throwing around in the way they influence those spaces.

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sardonic-sprite · 1 year

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Home Alone

Some days, Tim was really fucking glad to have Batman for a next-door neighbor.

He couldn't exactly remember a time when he was quite this glad or relieved, though. He'd never been on the verge of being kidnapped before.

But that was ok. He wasn't going to be kidnapped.

He had a plan.

Call the police would probably have been more rational, but the power was all still dead from the snowstorm, and Tim figured the roads to Bristol were blocked up, too. At the very least, his driveway was, and it was long enough to be considered its own short road.

Stupid fucking snowstorm. It was its fault that Tim's parents couldn't get back in town, and that he was alone and trying not to end up kidnapped on Christmas.

But it was ok. Because he wouldn't. Because he had a plan. And about two hours to set it into motion. And if it failed, the kidnappers were probably just going to be so pissed they'd kill Tim, so technically his goal of don't get kidnapped would still be met.

Technicalities were usually much more fun.

Tim ran around the house in a frenzy, darting glances out the window every few minutes to make sure the creepy men hadn't gotten any closer. But no, they were still huddled around their fires out in the yard, waiting for him to surrender.

Big fat nope to that one. Tim didn't know who they were working for, or why that guy wanted an eleven-year-old kid, but he knew it was most definitely for something very bad, and he wasn't interested in the particulars.

He paused, shuddering at the thought that entered his head, then scattered a few more Lego pieces on the floor.

The thing was, Tim could neither call for help nor run away while the power was out and the bad guys were surrounding the house. But if he got them inside the house, and made sure they couldn't follow, then he could race across the half-mile stretch to the property line. Crossing that would trigger Batman's security, and he'd come and investigate and bring Tim somewhere safe and beat up the bad guys, and maybe even be impressed at how clever and resourceful Tim had been.

Of course, even getting outside hinged on how many bad guys actually did come inside, and how many got caught in Tim's traps long enough to give him a head start. The traps had never been tested, after all, and Tim only had time for so many math calculations to determine their effectiveness. Drake Manor was also so large that he couldn't sufficiently cover it. He'd have to guide the bad guys where he wanted them to go.

Which meant he was using himself as live bait.

... It was gonna be fine.

The clock began striking nine as Tim finished his second-floor traps and double-checked the wiring. His heartbeat was going crazy in his chest, and he took deep, slow breaths in time with the chimes to steady himself. If he hyperventilated and passed out, he was worse than dead.

"TIMOTHY DRAKE," boomed the voice that had called out before, somehow magnified so that each word was perfectly clear, "THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE. SURRENDER NOW AND YOU WILL NOT BE HARMED. REFUSE, AND WE WILL USE ALL FORCE TO APPREHEND YOU."

Tim threw open the nearest window and stuck his head out, squinting against the snow to see the nearest fire. He didn't know if the man was at that one or not, but it didn't matter. He was sure his cry of "FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE! EAT SHIT!" was heard by all.

He slammed the window shut as the voice yelled furiously and sprinted down the stairs, skipping over the wires and traps. He wasn't sure how many were going to enter in each direction, but the first landing was the best place to bring them all closer.

Tim had to wait there for several minutes, anxiety building, before he heard the first cry of pain. It sounded like it came from the front door, and Tim smirked, thinking of the heavy vase that had just gotten shattered over the bad guy's head.

Strangled swearing erupted from the kitchen where superglue had stolen shoes to bare feet to a sea of Legos. A howl rose from the living room where a hot plate had been set under the window.

"DRAKE!"

"Last chance to surrender!" Tim hollered mockingly, wiping sweaty hands on his pants.

Screams and a terribly loud bang meant that his flashbomb had successfully blinded someone, and the most creative swear Tim had ever heard in his life confirmed that sticking his mother's sewing needles into the grey carpet had been a stroke of genius.

"You will pay for this, you insolent whelp!"

"You want it in cash or credit?" Tim needed them closer. Besides, it was just a little bit fun to tease.

"In blood!"

The first man appeared at the foot of the stairs. He held his right hand close to his chest, but otherwise looked unharmed. He must have avoided the lighter in the hall, though by the sound of it, one of his buddies hadn't.

Tim gulped. All he could see above the black ninja mask was the man's eyes, and he looked furious.

"Um, how about traveler's checks?"

The man started up the stairs with a roar and immediately toppled backwards, slipping on the generous coating of oil over the hardwood.

"Oh, yeah, I just polished that."

One man staggered into the foyer from the front hall. He still had dust and broken pottery on his head and shoulders, and his eyes looked unfocused. Another limped in from the kitchen, barefoot and glaring. He drew a knife, and Tim scrambled backwards.

"No!" The first man grabbed the other's wrist. He didn't look happy about it, but he said, "Lord Ra's wants the boy alive."

"He can live without his arrogant little tongue!"

Tim tried to think up something clever to say, to get them to come up the stairs, but he really did not want them any closer than they were. Out in the yard, they couldn't hurt him, but here they could. They could hurt Tim very, very bad.

Two more ninjas stumbled in, one blinking and squinting, pant leg still smoldering. The other, who looked like a woman, was walking on the sides of her feet. She left a thin trail of blood behind her, and Tim both felt sorry and wished it were worse all at once.

"He's lost his tongue even without your blade, Hans," laughed the first man. "Not so brave now, are you, boy?"

Brave, Tim. Brave like Robin.

Jason wouldn't be scared of these goons, and neither would Dick. Dick would make fun of them, and Jason would cuss them out, so Tim did both.

"Like hell I'm scared of you shit-faces! The wax dummies at the history museum would make better ninjas than you!"

Hans yelled and ran at the stairs. He didn't hear the first man yell, "Fool, it's oiled!" until he was already flat on his back. Tim listened very hard, but couldn't hear anyone else in the house. He taunted, "Where's the rest of you? Maybe you could use the power of friendship to figure it out," to make sure.

"Thank whatever god guards you there are none others," the woman snarled. "Or you would choke on your blood even as you laugh."

"Dramatic," Tim quipped weakly, voice a bit too high.

"How did we fail him that Lord Ra's would punish us this way," moaned Pottery Man. "Being tormented and mocked by an infant."

"Hey!" Tim cried, indignant. "I'm eleven and five twelfths!"

"Enough of this!" Number One shouted. "Hans, the servant's stair, Edda, the back stair. Jethro, the dumbwaiter." They scattered, and One began stalking up the oiled stairs, clinging to the rail and motioning the blinded man to stay behind. "You think we do not know every hall and stair in this house, boy? Every entrance and exit? What do you think will be your salvation if you stall us?"

Tim swallowed, edging into the hall and carefully pushing open the first door. He may have to adjust his escape plan.

"Indiana Jones, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Steven Spielberg, 1981!" Tim hollered. He dove out of the way as his father's massive, prized floor globe, the one twice the size and weight of Tim, rolled down the improvised ramp and onto the stairwell, gathering speed every second.

Tim took off, running down the hall to his bedroom without looking back. He heard screaming from several parts of the house, and would have jeered at them about not expecting him to know how to trap his own house, but he no longer wanted to give away his location. He'd need extra time now. Climbing down from his window was going to be a hell of a lot harder than climbing the rope he'd put in the dumbwaiter for himself.

Tim pulled out his army knife as he passed the dumbwaiter door and started sawing at the rope, grateful the set-up could double as another trap. He didn't even have to cut all the way through, the ninja's weight snapping the fibers in seconds once they frayed. He heard a yell and an awful snap.

The cry of, "I'll kill you, brat!" should not have been comforting, but Tim didn't want to have killed anybody, so it was.

He made it to his room, shut and locked the door, then shoved his dresser against it, grunting and panting. He had to lean against it for a moment to catch his breath, swiping the sweat from his forehead. He gave himself thirty seconds, but dropped it to twenty when the shouting drew nearer.

"I can do this," Tim whispered, stepping onto the windowsill and staring down. "I can totally, one hundred percent do this."

He sat down and shimmied around until he was clutching the window ledge with ungloved hands. His fingers were already freezing. His toes hung and flailed in open air for a few terrifying seconds before they found crevices in the weathered brick.

Tim took a deep breath.

Slowly, inch by inch, he worked his way down the wall until his feet hit the top of the first floor window. His fingers scraped and bled against the bricks, turning white with cold and terror. Sweat ran down his face and back, making him hot and cold both at once. Once he got his hand or foot on a hold, it was hard to make himself move again.

Carefully -- oh, so, so carefully, when Tim's feet hit the top of that window, did he turn his head over his shoulder. The snow rose to the bottom of the window, making the drop only about three feet into a cushion. Tim closed his eyes and jumped.

The snow crunched loudly beneath him, and he broke through it up to his knees. He didn't dare waste time celebrating, but immediately started off, hoping the blizzard would help to cover his tracks.

Half a mile due east. Tim could make it.

Half a mile through ever-deeper snow, in wind and dark, with only a coat and boots, and furious ninjas hunting him down.

Tim had to make it.

At first he tried to run, shoving his hands in his pockets to make them warm, but it was like trying to run through a pool, and Tim soon found himself basically swimming with his arms and legs. Within minutes (though each felt like an hour) he couldn't feel his fingers at all.

The snow was high enough to slip into the tops of his boots, melting into his socks and making his feet grow numb. Tim started crying, only realizing it when the tear tracks burned down his cheeks and froze there. Every breath became a white cloud in front of his face.

The whole world had turned into the snowstorm. Tim didn't know anymore if he was going east or west, north or south, up or down. If he was still going towards Batman and safety, or if he'd got so turned around he was about to run right into the ninjas' arms. He stumbled and staggered, knowing he had to keep moving no matter where he ended up. Fall down in the snow, and he was never getting back up.

Then finally, finally, Tim saw light in the distance.

"Help!" he cried, but his voice was ripped away by the wind.

"Batman! Mr. Wayne! Robin! Help me, please!"

A shadow blocked the light, and Tim sobbed in relief as arms hugged him tight.

"So this was your clever plan, was it, boy? No wonder Lord Ra's took an interest in you."

Tim screamed and started thrashing, but the ninja had his arms pinned, and the snow blocked his kicks. He tried to bite, but there was nothing in front of his face but thick cloth.

"Let go!" he wailed. He was so close, he couldn't fail now. "Let me fucking go! Hel--mmph!"

Tim was spun around and a hand covered his mouth, grip bruisingly tight, enough that Tim couldn't even move his jaw, let alone bite.

"Oh, no, boy," the ninja snarled in his ear. "You will be brought before the Demon's Head, and punished for every injury inflicted, and even the great Detective can't save you!"

"Can't he?"

Tim's heart leapt as a hulking shadow appeared out of the snow, Batman's unmistakable growl now a roar over the wind. He had done it! He'd gotten to Batman! He was saved!

And then he felt ice cold metal against his throat.

"Stay out of this, Detective. Lord Ra's cares not if he must resurrect his prize."

Tim trembled, even though he'd stopped shivering ages ago. He didn't know what that meant, but he never wanted to find out.

"He should care that Gotham and its people are under my protection. Let the boy go, or there will be retaliation."

"We do not fear your posturing, Detective," the ninja sneered. He started dragging Tim back, away from Batman and safety. "And we do not fear your allies. But continue to oppose us now, and we will strike you down--"

"Wanna bet?"

There was a loud thunk and the ninja's hold went slack. The knife dropped to the snow, its wielder crumpling, and Tim stumbled, grabbing for his throat to be sure it wasn't bleeding.

"Kid? Kid, what's wrong, are you hurt?" Robin hollered over the wind.

Tim slowly shook his head, staring at the ninja. He felt something warm and big and surprisingly soft drape over his shoulders, like a blanket, and looked up to see Batman leaning over him with his cape.

"You're freezing," he murmured, sounding much more like Mr. Wayne. "Robin, get him inside!" His voice dipped back to a growl as he said, "I'll deal with the League."

"Here, kid."

Batman was replaced by Robin, but the cloak remained wrapped around Tim. He was bundled tighter into it, then scooped right off the ground and into Robin's arms. He squeaked in surprise, but pressed closer because Robin was so warm.

"Geez, you're tiny!" Robin half-shouted, wading through the snow only a little faster than Tim had. "How old are you, kid?"

"Eleven and a half," Tim mumbled. Jason Todd was a fine one to talk about being small for one's age.

As Robin muttered something like, because the half makes all the difference, a big black shape loomed out of the snow right in front of Tim's face. It took him far too long to realize it was a Bat-Snowmobile; Robin had plopped him on top and climbed on behind him before he registered the headlights had turned on.

"Hang on tight!" Robin ordered, and the engine roared to life.

Tim yelped, grabbing Robin as the vehicle lurched and zoomed into the storm, throwing his arms around the older boy's neck and hiding his face against his shoulder. One arm wrapped around Tim's waist and gently squeezed.

"Just hang in there a few more minutes, squirt. It's not far."

"What's not far?"

Not Tim's house. Please, not Tim's house. He didn't want to go back and run into the rest of the bad guys -- the League -- without Batman. Robin was awesome and warm, but Batman was powerful, and Tim didn't think the League would give up without more of a fight.

Robin hesitated before answering. "Wayne Manor is just under a quarter mile. They can look after you while I go back to help Batman."

Tim sighed in relief. Wayne Manor would be warm and safe, and until Batman and Robin came back to be Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd, Tim would no doubt be looked after by Alfred Pennyworth, and he was as powerful as Batman himself in Tim's book.

I did it, he thought happily, cuddling closer to Robin's warmth. I actually fucking did it.

"Eat shit, Lord Ra's."

Robin laughed.

After only a few more minutes, Wayne Manor appeared, looming out of the dark with a few cheerily lit windows. There was a glowing Christmas tree visible through one, and seeing it warmed something other than Tim's fingers.

Robin parked the Bat-Snowmobile outside the back kitchen door and swung himself off, then scooped up Tim to plop him on the ground. He kept an arm around Tim's shoulders as he went and knocked on the door. Tim could see the kitchen lights on, and it only took a minute before the door opened to reveal Alfred Pennyworth in a robe and nightshirt.

"Good heavens!" he exclaimed, and immediately backed up to usher them inside.

"Mr. Pennyworth, this is Tim Drake, your next-door neighbor," Robin introduced. "His home was attacked tonight by the League of Assassins, and he had to run a long way through the cold. If you would look after him and warm him up, Batman and I will be back before too long."

"I-- yes, of course," Mr. Pennyworth said, surprise changing to concern. "Thank you, Master Robin."

Robin nodded and ruffled Tim's hair. "You'll be safe here for a while, ok, squirt? Batman or I'll be back soon."

Tim nodded, and Robin grinned and left. Tim could hear the roar of the Bat-Snowmobile as it tore off outside.

Mr. Pennyworth turned to put a kettle on the stove, then told Tim, "Come, let's get you out of those wet things, Master Tim."

Tim nodded eagerly, stumbling a bit on frozen feet as he followed Mr. Pennyworth to a bathroom, still clutching Batman's cape around his shoulders.

"I'll set some of Master Jason's things outside the door for you. You're about the same size, I think. If you can find your way back to the kitchen, I'll have hot cocoa ready in moments."

"You don't have to go to any trouble," Tim said shyly.

"Nonsense, dear boy." Mr. Pennyworth smiled. "Tisn't any trouble at all, I assure you."

He left, and Tim stripped out of his sweats and socks. He hated to drop Batman's cape on the ground, but it had gotten soggy with snow just like everything else. He tried to fold it up, but it was like trying to fold his sheets, it was so huge.

A knock came at the door, and Mr. Pennyworth called that there were pajamas and a sweatshirt outside. Tim answered with a thank you and waited a moment before sticking one hand out the door to snatch the bundle.

He was startled into a laugh to see that the pajamas were themed like Batman and the hoodie like Nightwing. He wondered if Dick had gotten it for Jason. There were also a non-themed pair of slippers, and now that the feeling was coming back to Tim's toes, he could tell they were wonderfully soft.

Once dressed, he found his way back to the kitchen, where a kettle was starting to whistle before Mr. Pennyworth plucked it off the stove.

"Warming up, Master Tim?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Pennyworth."

The butler tutted. "Alfred is quite alright, dear boy."

"Thank you, Alfred," Tim corrected shyly. He'd never called an adult by their first name before.

A very loud yawn from behind made Tim jump, turning to look at the doorway, where...

Tim blinked.

Where stood Jason Todd.

He was dressed in Wonder Woman pajama pants and a red hoodie, rumpled like he'd been asleep, but his hair was still damp and his nose and cheeks pink from the snow and cold. His eyes looked bleary and sleepy, like he'd just woken up, but he most definitely scanned over Tim like he was looking for injuries.

"'S goin' on, Alf?" he asked, slurring his voice to sound half-awake. "Who's that?"

Tim just kept staring, dumbfounded, as Alfred said, "You recall young Timothy Drake, Master Jason? I'm afraid he ran into quite the spot of trouble tonight. Robin brought him here for us to look after until the situation is resolved."

Jason's eyes widened like he hadn't himself, as Robin, dropped Tim off ten minutes ago. "No way," he muttered. "What the hell were you doing, Timbit, that you got mixed up in superhero stuff?"

Tim hesitated.

"Batman! Mr. Wayne! Robin! Help me, please!"

"So this was your clever plan, was it, boy? No wonder Lord Ra's took an interest in you."

Tim hadn't had any idea just why he was being almost-kidnapped, except maybe for ransom or something, until the ninja had said that, and Batman showed up seeming to know all about that Lord Ra's guy and his ninja-kidnappers. At the time, he'd been too terrified to analyze, but now he wondered...

Did Ra's somehow know that Tim knew who Batman was? Tim didn't think that was possible. He hadn't even told his parents. But maybe Ra's was a mind-reader. Or had some kind of special powers. But then why would he need Tim to tell him who Batman was? Especially when the ninja sounded like Ra's and his League already knew all about Batman.

"Timber?"

Tim blinked and looked back at Jason. He and Alfred were both watching Tim, sharp-eyed. That was when he realized Jason wasn't just asking as a shocked civilian, he was investigating as Robin. In order to protect Tim, he and Batman needed to know why he'd been endangered in the first place.

"I...I don't know," he admitted. Jason's mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown, until Tim hesitantly added, "But I might have a guess?"

"Yeah? What do you think?"

Alfred set a cup of steaming cocoa on the table in front of Tim. It warmed his face, and he almost thought it burned his hands when he cupped them around it, but he didn't care. One sip warmed him all over inside, like he hadn't been cold or frightened at all. He wondered if Alfred was magic.

There was another clink of ceramic, and Tim realized Jason had gotten a mug of cocoa, too, and had sat down across from Tim. He held out a bowl of marshmallows, and Tim took two with a soft thanks.

Jason waited until Tim had taken two more sips before prompting, "Timmers? What's your guess?"

Tim took a deep breath, trying to calculate how mad Batman was going to be when he found out, and blurted, "I know who Batman and Robin are."

"What? No way! Who are they? How did you figure it out?" Jason gasped, face splitting into a grin, looking for all the world like someone expecting to hear the most amazing secret in the world.

But Tim saw the panic behind his eyes.

"I wouldn't tell you, if you didn't know," he promised. "But they're you. You and Mr. Wayne. I... I know because it was Dick Grayson first. He's the only person ever who can do a quadruple flip, and I saw Robin do it with my own eyes."

Jason stared.

Alfred stared.

Tim ducked his head and stared at his cocoa.

Then Jason said slowly, "You... you saw the first Robin in person? Doing a four-flip?"

"Yes?"

"How... how old were you?"

Tim frowned, calculating. "Nine?"

Alfred coughed.

"You were nine," Jason repeated. "And you were out in Gotham and saw Robin. Doing a fancy flip. And figured out one of the most dangerous and well-kept secrets in the city."

"Yes," Tim said, a bit more confidently. "Like I said, only Dick Grayson can do that flip. And if he's Robin, Bruce Wayne has to be Batman. And you have to be the next Robin. It's... it's just logic."

It's just logic, Jason mouthed. His lips stayed parted in astonishment as he turned to look at Alfred.

"That's... quite impressive, Master Tim," he managed. "Although, might I inquire... just what were the circumstances under which you saw Robin's flip?"

Tim hastily took a sip of cocoa. Jason raised his eyebrows and copied him, not setting down his mug until Tim did. Tim immediately took another sip. Jason and Alfred exchanged a glance.

"IusedtofollowBatmanandRobinaroundatnightandtakepictures," Tim blurted.

Jason blinked rapidly several times before suggesting, "A-again... slowly, please?"

"I... I used to, to follow Batman and Robin around at night. And take pictures."

"And your parents let you?" Jason yelped.

"They didn't... exactly know?"

"How...?" Jason's voice kept sounding more and more strangled. If Tim didn't know better, he'd have thought an invisible villain was throttling him.

"Well..." Tim ducked his head, shoulders almost rising to his ears. He stared intently at the melting marshmallows in his cocoa as he said, "They're not really around much."

"What exactly do you mean by 'not much,' Master Tim?" Alfred asked, both firm and kind, but also concerned.

Tim's ears felt hot. "They're usually on digs. They come back for a weekend or so every couple months. So they never knew I went out at night. I never told them I figured out who you are. I promise that I've never told anybody, and I never would tell anybody, even that Ra's guy, no matter what he did!"

He looked back up at Jason and Alfred, hoping they could see the honesty in his face.

Their faces showed a mix of shock and horror. Jason's eyes were wide and round, but Alfred's were pinched, and his mouth was drawn into a hard line. Tim swallowed nervously.

"You're a very impressive young lad, Master Tim," Alfred said in a carefully measured voice. "If you'll excuse me a moment, I think I ought to go inform Master Bruce of... these developments. I assume your parents were not home tonight?"

"Their flight got cancelled," Tim admitted. He wondered for the first time, as Alfred nodded curtly and stepped out of the room, if Batman had a mind-wipe machine or something. He very much hoped not.

Jason made a low whistle, then murmured, "Well, damn." He took a sip of cocoa, looking at the door Alfred had left through.

"What's 'well damn'?" Tim asked, voice too high.

"Alfie's 'bout'a go off," Jason chuckled, then, seeing Tim's expression, clarified, "not on you, Timberly, on your parents. And Ra's. Definitely also on Ra's."

"Why would Alfred be mad at my parents? And what does he need to tell Batman? Are you mad at me? Because I figured it out? Or..." Tim gasped in horror. "Or because I led them here? I led them here! Oh, God, I told a villain who Batman is! I--"

"Tim! Tim, calm down, it's ok!" Jason seemed torn between laughter and concern, but he reached out and put a bracing hand on Tim's shoulder. "You didn't do anything wrong. Ra's already knows who we are. Alfred just has to tell Bruce, um. Not to look for your parents. And why they're not there. And that's why he's pissed off, because nobody should leave a little kid all by himself for all but a few weekends out of the year."

Jason looked pissed himself when he said the last bit. Unfortunately, all of it just left Tim with even more questions. But even as he opened his mouth to ask them, there was a loud rattling and banging from above.

"What was that?" Tim yelped, jumping and spilling cocoa on the table.

"The storm," Jason said, completely expressionless. He grabbed some napkins from the holder on the table and dropped them on the spill, clearing it with one neat swipe. "Don't worry about it."

"You're sure it's not the ninjas?"

Jason snorted. "Don't ever let them hear you call them that. I'm sure, kid. Batman's got it covered."

Alfred came back into the kitchen muttering about reception, and took Tim's and Jason's empty mugs over to the sink to wash. There was a loud pounding from up above, first moving distant, then drawing near again. Tim realized it was running feet.

He raised his eyebrows at Jason.

"The storm, huh?"

Jason shrugged with a smile too mischievous to be innocent.

A moment later, Bruce Wayne appeared in the doorway, hair mussed and face pink, barefoot and wearing a red bathrobe that did not succeed at hiding the Batsuit underneath.

The way he blinked and squinted at the warm kitchen light appeared genuine, but he sounded far too awake as he said, "Alfred, what's going on? Who's this? Jason? I thought you went to bed."

Jason glanced at Tim, mischief peaking.

"Dad!" he exclaimed, jumping up and running over. "Dad, you'll never guess what happened! This is Tim Drake, from next door, and he was attacked by supervillains and Batman and Robin came and saved him and brought him here!"

"Oh! My... God..." Mr. Wayne faltered, glancing from Alfred (who's back was turned to hide his smile) to Tim (who was just as confused as he seemed) to Jason (who was grinning just a bit too wide), before narrowing a bit at the last one.

Jason beamed up at him, and Mr. Wayne apparently decided not to worry about it, because he turned to Tim and asked, "Are you alright, Tim?"

"I... think so," Tim said slowly, staring at Jason, who was mouthing at him. Mr. Wayne glanced down at his son suspiciously, but Jason shut his mouth in an instant.

"Are you hurt at all? Cold?"

"No, I'm ok now. Mr... uh, Alfred's hot chocolate warmed me right up."

Mr. Wayne smiled. "It does that quite well. Are..." He turned hesitant again, glancing at them all before asking, "Do you know if your parents are alright? If they escaped?"

"They weren't even there," Jason said, bright smile turning downright ferocious. "They leave Tim all alone in the house all year and only come in for a weekend every once in a while. And since that's criminal neglect, and Batman and Robin asked us to take care of him, I guess I got a little brother for Christmas like I asked for after all!"

Tim stared. Mr. Wayne stared. Jason beamed. Alfred coughed in a way that sounded much too much like a laugh.

"Um..." Tim started, but had no idea how to continue.

"It... I... don't think it's all quite that simple, Jay," Mr. Wayne cautioned hesitantly. Jason just stared straight up into his face, both grinning and glaring at the same time. It was mildly terrifying, and Mr. Wayne cleared his throat before turning to Tim. "But of course, you're more than welcome to stay with us until it's safe. We'll be glad to have you."

Tim stammered out a thank you, wondering if Mr. Wayne offered because he knew as Batman that it wasn't safe. He hoped not. As awesome as being Jason Todd's little brother sounded, Tim already had parents and a home, even if they were... distant. He also wondered why Jason was pretending he was an ordinary civilian, and that Tim didn't know better. And Alfred was going along with it, even though he'd been about to tell Batman everything just before.

"If you're quite warm and well, Master Tim, I think a good night's rest would do you good," Alfred said, "as it would the rest of us."

"Oh. Um, yes." Tim blinked and looked at the clock, which read 11:30 PM. "Sleep. Yeah."

"Great!" Jason chirped. He did a cartwheel over to Tim, channeling Dick Grayson, probably, and pulled him up, slinging his arm over Tim's shoulders. "C'mon, Timbers, we can have a sleepover in my room."

"Uh, sure."

A sleepover with Robin? Tim was equal parts confused and ecstatic. He followed Jason past a mystified Mr. Wayne, who wished them both goodnight, and up a small back staircase to the second floor.

It wasn't until Jason had showed them into his room and they got settled in bed that Tim finally asked, "Jason? Why didn't we tell Mr. Wayne that I know who you are? Isn't it kind of important?"

"Oh, Timmy Tim Timmers. Think about it. We only get to tell him that once."

"But-- oh. Ohhh."

"Exactly." Jason sounded smug. "Just you wait, Timbit. I have a feeling you and I are gonna be the holiest terrors this city ever saw."

#feral tim drake #ra's: 5 ninjas should do it right?#he's like a toddler itll be fine #tim: fucking bet you old assbutt #day 2 #home alone #tim drake #bruce wayne #batfam #fic #ao3 writer #sprite wrote #amow winter whumperland 2022 #day 5 #trapped in a blizzard #day 10 #hot chocolate #jason todd #alfred pennyworth

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class1akids · 2 months

Note

I totally get your point on how the adults should have prevented Eri from cutting her horn off, but on the other hand if Eri was prevented and Izuku never healed, how would she feel? Not to mention this is an emergency situation and Izuku is their most important player in this game. If Izuku stayed in that condition we don't know what would happen. Still wrong either way, but for this particular situation there are more people's lives on the line because it is technically the endgame.

There are others ways to keep him alive. When Mirko got her limbs cut off, BJ tied it up with a rope and she kept fighting - because she was another disposable character needed to tear herself into pieces for another male character.

Deku didn't need to lose his arms - Hori wrote that for shock value and painting a disturbed, traumatized child clearly suffering from survivor guilt to potentially sacrifice her quirk (an integral part of who she is) for him as "heroic", while grown ass men stand around or give up sweaty T-shirts is wrong.

Deku did not compromise on his resolve to save Tomura even though the entire world was at stake and killing him wasn't even discussed as an option, but a 6-year old being mutilated by an adult - as long as it's for Deku - is ok for you.

It just shows btw how much Eri is nothing but a literal plot device in this story nobody really cares about.

Everyone has their lines. I personally cannot think of any circumstance where a 6-year old should have to sacrifice an integral part of herself for a choice made by someone else. It was Deku's choice to throw any caution to the wind to save Tenko (where he rejected other villains just fine) and I don't think it's right that someone who he's supposedly protecting should need to cut herself to pieces to bail him out.

I get the themes, I get the point Hori is trying to make, but I think it's wrong and indefensible to make a 6-year old do this to herself. And I'd like to think that the real Deku wouldn't be ok with this either.

Her wanting to become a singer at the age of 6 is a ridiculous excuse. People who met real-world children know that their future profession is rarely decided before they even start primary school. Eri on top of it is a traumatized child who was kept in captivity for years and because of that she's even more vulnerable and should be protected.

If I sound angry, it's because I am and I find this fandom's moral selectiveness rather upsetting.

#c1a asks #bnha manga spoilers #bnha manga leaks

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theodorecanaryhood · 1 year

Text

The artist and the Tattooist: The Angel and The Demon

Part II

Jason Todd x Male! Reader

Warnings: sex, some violence and bad language

Jason, left, reader, right

Wayne enterprise was holding a Gala during the summer, in particular this was during pride month and Bruce was big on showing his support to the LGBTQ community.

Not just because his second son is Gay, but because he wants to show that equality is what you give. Treating everyone the same to Bruce, is big to him.

Bruce and Jason were on speaking terms after a while, Jason just had trust issues for his old man. But he couldn’t be angry at his father too much, Bruce was so accepting and never hesitant of opening his arms to his Son’s. All of them meaning so much to him.

‘Why don’t you bring your boyfriend?’ Bruce suggested to Jason, who shrugged.

‘I’ll see what he’s up to this weekend, he tries to get as much work done before the Monday rush’ Jason replied, knowing your work schedule as well as knowing you.

It was true, you liked to get canvases done latest by Sunday. As you had gotten more popular in the last few months.

‘See if he can, it would be great to meet him. Plus, it’ll be good for him to have some fun’ Bruce continued.

Of course when Jason asked you to attend as his plus one, you didn’t hesitate. But internally, you were nervous. It was the first time you’d be meeting Jason’s family.

The dress code was changed with a few weeks notice, instead of usual black tie it was mixed up. Dress up in costume. You found it odd, but it gave you an amazing idea.

‘Angel and Demon?’ Jason chuckled as you held up the costumes.

‘Yeah, why not?’ You smiled, handing Jason his costume. One of and Angel.

Jason found it ironic as he always felt the demon would fit him better, but then he figured it would be a funny joke for later.

‘There’s no top with this?’ Jason questioned as he held up his costume.

You laughed as you pointed out that the wings attach around your shoulders, some bottoms and footwear.

‘No need for a shirt, it’s meant to be worn like that. It’ll show off your body’ you winked, as you ran a hand up Jason’s shirt.

Kissing him deeply as Jason sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your neck, holding you in place.

‘Ok, you want to show me off to everyone, I get it’ Jason laughed as you tilted your head.

‘You’re hot babe, you really should start realising that’ you replied as Jason nodded.

The night of the Gala came and Jason dressed up in his Angel costume, standing looking at himself in the mirror.

‘I’m ready’ you called out as you walked into the room, wearing the Devil’s costume.

Black shirt and trousers, black shoes, black wings. Black eyeliner and mascara. Jason’s Jae dropped as he’d never seen you like this before, you just admiring the view of Jason.

Jason wore white trousers, shoes and the white Angel wings. With some light material covering part of his torso. Jason still not comfortable showing all his body off yet.

‘You look sexy’ Jason said, his eyes checking you out. Pulling you in for a kiss.

The two of you entered the gala hand in hand as some reporters waited for the Wayne family members to come.

‘Mr Todd’ one reporter said as she came over to him, camera in hand.

‘Hi’ he smiled, squeezing your hand as his fingers interlocked with yours.

‘Can we get some shots of you please? It’s for our article’ she asked, Jason nodded.

‘Yeah sure, get one of me and my boyfriend’ Jason said as he kissed your cheek, while it was snapped.

‘Thanks’

You both walked further into the event as you took in the view of rich people, all staring at you and Jason as you both walked in.

‘Everyone’s looking’ you whispered to Jason, he just squeezed your hand again.

‘Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll protect you’ Jason reassured you. Seeing you were nervous.

Jason took you to a table that had 5 men and a woman seated at, Jason waved at them as they all waved back, smiling brightly.

‘Hey everyone, this is y/n, my boyfriend’ Jason introduced you. The men all stood up, and you saw clearly one of the older men was Bruce Wayne.

‘Y/n, this is my dad Bruce, Alfred, my brothers Dick, Tim and Damian. And that is Selina’ Jason introduced, pointing to all of them as he named them.

You smiled as Bruce shook your hand while smiling at you, Bruce shook your hand while placing his other hand on top of yours and his.

‘It is such a pleasure to meet you y/n, Jason has not stopped talking about you’ Bruce said warmly, as he invited you both to sit with them at the table, having two extra seats.

You guys all chatted and drank as you got to know everyone better, you sat with Dick for ages as the two of you laughed. You both having a similar sense of humour. While you and Alfred talked about recipes, the older man seeming to really approve of you.

You smiled as you saw Jason talking with Selina and Bruce, Bruce showing a lot of affection towards his son, which made Jason smile.

‘Come have a drink with me’ Jason whispered in your ear as he stood behind your seated form. You nodding.

‘Didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed back there, they can be a lot sometimes’ Jason said as he kissed your cheek, walking you to the bar.

You guys stood at the bar for a while as you drank, you both laughing.

Dick came over and got a drink too as he smiled at you both. Jason wrapping an arm around your waist.

‘Wanna dance babe?’ You nodded at Jason’s question, the two of you holding hands while walking to the dance floor.

A few hours had gone by, the two of you just enjoying each others company. But you didn’t want to just leave at the end without talking to Jason’s family a bit more, so you went to find their table.

With only Dick, Tim and Alfred at the table now as Damian was with Bruce and Selina in the bathroom.

‘Hey, there’s a pride event on Friday if you want to come? Me and Jason are going’ Dick informed as he invited you, you nodded with a smile.

‘Yeah, sounds great, I’ll close the store early’

The rest of the Gala was Jason socialising with his Dad’s rich friends, something he and his siblings had to do often at these events. Keeps up the Wayne name apparently, Jason was trying his hardest not to look bored. Holding your hand, arm round your waist or simply just touching you in some way the whole time.

Jason made an effort to show everyone at this Gala that you were his, and only his. It made you blush, but also reminded you of the fact that Jason is territorial with things and people he cares about.

Neither of you drinking too much tonight as you had the long drive home, you smiled as you said goodbye to his family. Selina giving you a hug as you both departed, something Jason pointed out Selina doesn’t do unless she likes you.

The next day was usual as you both had work, though as Jason lived closer to the gala you stayed over at his. For the first time you were both too tired once you got in, so you both simply fell asleep.

Jason had a client at 10 who was insistent on having a particular art design. She sat down on the seat, watching as Jason prepped himself for the tattoo.

‘The rose won’t take too long, but the exterior pattern might take some time. This should only be one sitting, but you can always come for a touch up in a few months if you want to add to it’ Jason informed, as the woman sat.

She was in her early 20’s, blonde and already had some nice tattoos on her arms and legs. She’s never been here before, she was just looking for a new artist since her last one moved out of the City.

‘So, how long you been tattooing?’ The woman asked, it wasn’t unusual for Jason’s clients to make small talk in the process. As it always made process to go quicker.

‘About 7 years now’ he smiled, the gun working its magic on the top of the woman’s arm. Her not showing much pain or discomfort to the needle.

The two talked a little as Jason did his work, effortlessly working the design onto the woman’s skin.

After he was finished, she checked it out in the mirror. She smiled at what he’d done, with a satisfied expression she approached Jason.

‘Happy?’ He asked as she nodded, him smiling at her.

Once all the aftercare had been given and discussed, the woman paid, making sure to tip well.

‘Thank you, so much it’s beautiful’ she smiled as Jason nodded.

‘Glad you like it, thank you for the tip it’s generous’ Jason replied, the woman winking.

‘I was wondering, if I could get some friends to come here and get some work done. I know they’ve been looking for an artist for ages’ she suggested, Jason nodded.

Always happy to accept more and more clients, Jason felt at the moment was enough with just him, Roy and Wally. But, was hoping to expand a little more so was looking to employ a couple more people too.

‘Happy for you to get as many people here as you want’ he smiled, the woman flicking her hair a little.

‘Was also wondering, if you were free Friday night? There’s this thing at my work, we’re all going and I don’t have a plus one’ she asked, Jason smiled.

‘I would love to but I’m going to a Pride event with my brother that day’ Jason politely responded.

‘Pride event huh? That’s so cute, you taking anyone else?’ She asked, Jason smiled again.

‘My boyfriend’

‘Well have fun’ she said, leaving with a laugh as she called out promising to bring her friends next time.

Jason patrolled the streets but didn’t find much exciting action, he’d hoped he could relieve himself of some tension and stress, but I guess criminals were taking a night off.

‘Think I’ll call it a night’ Jason mumbled to himself as he started up his motorbike, with the intention of heading home, he ended up making his to your place.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ You asked as Jason walked into your apartment, you of course opening the door to him first.

‘Patrol was boring tonight, still got tons of tension and energy’ Jason said, walking into your apartment with you.

You were finishing up on a final canvas which you put over on a stand to dry. Jason checked it out, never failing to be impressed with your work.

‘You excited about Friday?’ Jason asked you as he sat on your couch, you nodded.

Jason just watched as you worked while cleaning, Jason feeling himself getting hard in his pants.

‘You’re staring again’ you said, not looking at Jason, hearing him let out a huff.

‘I just like watching you’

You sat on Jason’s lap as you both made out, him grabbing your face. He felt how hard you were getting too.

‘God you are tense’ you commented as you felt Jason’s shoulders.

‘Wanna help me relieve some of this?’ Jason asked you. You smirked as Jason stood up carrying you.

‘That feels amazing’ Jason commented, his face down as he lay on his front.

You massaged Jason as a way to help him offload some tension, his back and shoulders were the worst.

‘You should get a massage more often babe, this tension is not helping’ you commented, Jason humming.

‘You can massage me anytime you want, this feels better than sex’ Jason breathed out in relief.

‘No offence taken darling’ you chuckled as Jason laughed, you smiled as you worked all over a Jason’s back.

‘Want to do my front?’ Jason asked, you hummed in response as Jason rolled onto his back.

This time you spiced it up a bit by sitting on top of Jason’s hips while working his chest and abs.

‘Don’t tease me now babe’ he said to you, smiling as you rubbed up and down his body.

‘I’m all about the teasing’ you wink, Jason placing his hands in your ass as you leant down and kissed him.

‘Let’s fuck’ Jason growled as he rolled you over onto your back, him laying on top of you.

The make out session got steamy as Jason began to unbutton your shirt.

Jason licked your stomach and chest all the way up, until he got to your neck and bit at it. Then giving you a deep kiss.

You held onto Jason’s face as you tugged at Jason’s boxers, him doing the same to your underwear.

Jason rolled you onto your front as he gave your ass a hard slap, you urging him to do it again.

‘I want it’ you begged, putting a little as Jason smiled devilishly.

‘I like when you beg, do it again’ he growled as he bit your ear.

‘I want it now, baby please’ you begged again as Jason leant down and kissed you deeply, giving you a little lick in the face.

Jason slid his hard shaft into you as you called out in pleasure, gripping onto the pillow. Jason was moving slowly, sliding in and out.

You were biting your lip as you moaned out, Jason grunting as he picked up a quicker pace. Jason urged you onto all fours, to which you obliged.

You stayed on all fours as Jason wrapped an arm around your neck, with his other free hand reaching round as he jerked your off.

‘Oh God, baby’ you moaned out as Jason lay his forehead on the back of you neck.

Jason pushed himself in and out of you deeply and slowly, his hot breath fanning the back of your chest.

‘Jason, Jason’ you breathed out, Jason’s length filling you up and hitting all the good spots.

The ecstasy of your bodies together and the volume of you both, which probably kept the neighbours in the loop of what’s going on, was so hot it kept you both going for the moment.

‘Oh God, Jason I’m close, please don’t stop’ you whimpered as Jason carried on jerking you while riding you.

Your hot seed shot out like bullets as you moaned out of pleasure, Jason seeming to find it hot as he sped up a little. Arm still wrapped around your neck.

Once he’d finished emptying you out he placed his other arm around your neck too, riding you deeper and deeper.

‘Y/n, I love you so much’ Jason blurted out, going quicker as he came closer and closer.

Jason slowed down and pumped deeper as he spilled inside you. Finishing inside, Jason caught his breath as he pulled himself out.

Turning your face with his hand, kissing you deeply. Seemingly not registering that he’d said ‘I love you’ for the first time.

You both kissed as you turned your body to face his, Jason smiling into the kiss a little.

‘I love you too’ you whispered back, Jason smiling brightly as he kissed you again. Laying you on your back as he began to slide down your body, making his way to between your legs.

Sucking, licking and playing with you until you were hard and ready again. Giving you the best blowjob of your life.

Friday came and you were both headed to meet Dick, walking hand in hand as you swung your arm a little. Making Jason chuckle.

‘Hey guys’ Dick called out as he came over smiling, giving Jason a hug. Then coming over and giving you one too.

You both wear dressed appropriately for the weather, with casual clothing. While Dick went all out and wore a rainbow shirt with some bright coloured shorts.

You found it sweet how much Dick cared about his younger brother, and how sweet it was that Dick made a huge deal of showing nothing but acceptance. Of both of you.

Dick took you both to the gay bar close by after the parade, standing in between you both with his arms around you both.

Of course, you and Jason snuck away a couple of times to have a quick make out. Or just to cuddle.

You and Dick got on so well it made Jason smile, as he only wanted you to like his family as much as they like you. Which you did. Even exchanging numbers with Dick at the end of the night.

Jason kissed you for the hundredth time today, as you both stood outside. Jason not giving one shit about who was looking.

‘I love you y/n’ Jason smiled, resting his forehead against yours.

‘I love you too, Jason’ you breathed out as you pulled in for another kiss. Never getting tired of Jason’s lips.

#red hood #gotham #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #pride 2023

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prismatic-bell · 2 months

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ok so this is less a zionism question and more one related to judaism as a whole, but: the hebrew calendar is currently in the year 5784, yeah? but of course, that doesn't necessarily mean jewish history is necessarily over five thousand years old- jesus's birth precedes christianity in its current form by at least a couple of centuries.

but here's the thing- one post, whose actual content i don't recall, happened to mention that jewish history is three thousand years old. This is where my question gets specific enough so that you'd be able to answer it in a tumblr ask.

you see, the author of one of my favourite books of all time, Sun Tzu, is rumored to have served under Hu Lu of the Wu kingdom, which would put his life at about 500-400 b.c.e. Did judaism exist during that time? could Sun Tsu have credibly met a rabbi in his lifetime (ignoring the Huge distance between the levant and china, of course)?

(also, i know like. Very Little about the history of that area so sorry if my question is stupid or offensive in some way. was the Temple already built there and stuff? were there already people keeping kosher? that sort of stuff)

So let’s start here: that post is incorrect. It’s closer to 3500 years, and the reason it’s not more than that is because before that we were still Canaanites. (Torah claims we defeated the Canaanites. The truth is more like “we were a small sect of Canaanites who out-babied all the other Canaanites.”)

As for whether Sun Tzu could have met a rabbi…no, but not because we weren’t around then. Sun Tzu’s life falls smack in the middle of the return to Jerusalem; Judea had an extremely small population at this point (the whole country is estimated at no more than 30,000 people, with only a single city—Jerusalem), but it did exist as a Jewish nation under Persian rule. We were very much around. But rabbinic Judaism—which is the modern form of Judaism, and what people usually mean when they say “Judaism”—didn’t exist until after the fall of the Temple in 70CE led to the end of blood sacrifice, and the beginnings of the concept of what we today call “rabbis” didn’t exist until the mid-100s BCE. We do have some men older than that who we call “rabbi” sometimes in modern discussion, but this isn’t any kind of official title—it’s more a mark of respect for their great wisdom and learning (like having an honorary doctorate degree). Far more commonly, these men are called the sages, or were kings.

That isn’t to say there’s no chance of Sun Tzu having met influential figures in Judaism, however. Torah was first being written down right around the time he lived, and it so happens that a lot of Jews were in Babylon at the time. Depending on how far he traveled (if he did), he could absolutely have met some of the Jewish figures codifying Torah and the Mishnah, and since some of our earliest fragments of Torah are written on papyrus rather than parchment, it’s even possible he read portions of it. This is doubly true because Israel-Judea is a linchpin between three separate continents: Europe, Africa, and Asia-by-way-of-the-south (nobody was crossing the Alps in 400BCE). That’s why our particular patch has been so fought over throughout history—for most of history, he who controlled Jerusalem controlled international trade. Could some of our writings have been included in a trade headed east? Absolutely. It wouldn’t even be that weird for a few stray copies to have not survived—keeping in mind how many more forms of media and record we have today than we’ve had throughout history, and how much easier it is to make those records, it is still estimated that over 99% of all media and records made in human history are permanently lost. Yeah, totally, Sun Tzu could’ve been like “are there wise men in these western countries? Bring me their writings” and read them and gone “huh, neat, I’ll have to think about that” and then because his scrolls got eaten by bugs and he didn’t use MLA format nobody would ever know. It’s extremely likely that’s happened with many writings from many places throughout history. And yes—it’s equally possible that a few stray Jews became merchants or great travelers and made their way to China and we don’t know because their publicity agents sucked. That is, unfortunately, the case with most of history. We find half a dozen puzzle pieces from a picture we know must contain at least five thousand pieces and we’ve got to reconstruct what it looked like and hope a seventh piece turns up somewhere. So is it likely Sun Tzu met Jews? Not at all. Is it impossible? Absolutely not.

Now as for what Jews were doing at the time…first, I’m going to say the idea that ancient Jews all did exactly as Torah said to do all the time is a lovely fairy tale. I think those of us who did most of our study of the ancient world in sixth grade during our Egypt phases tend to forget that then as now, people were people everywhere you went, and “the [insert ancient race here] people believed ________” is a convenient oversimplification. There would have been varying degrees of observance just like there are today, and I suspect that’s even more true in the peasant class; you’re not making your kids go hungry so you can sacrifice an expensive calf. But this WAS the period when we started getting a unified “this is what we are supposed to do, here, we wrote it down for you” practice, so here are some examples:

1) this is the period when the Jewish pantheon—yes, that was a thing—got collapsed into a single god, the one we now call the One G-d, Adonai. (Yes, the one with the Y-name, no, I’m not saying it.) This is why in some portions of Torah G-d is referred to as Elohim—El was originally another god. The “im” ending is a plural.

2) the rules of Temple sacrifice were formally codified. This isn’t to say it was a free-for-all before this time, but your options were…squishier, so to speak.

3) THE RULES OF KASHRUUUUUUUUUT this is when all of that stuff got written down and formalized. Before this things like not eating pork would have existed, but they would have been more of a cultural taboo than a religious law. This probably reflects why some parts of kashrut, or kosher, laws are so weird in Torah. Like—it tells you some birds are kosher and some aren’t, but it’s super vague on which is which. That makes a lot more sense if “everybody knew” what was and wasn’t taboo. Sort of like how if you open a cookbook and see a recipe asking for two eggs you automatically look for a chicken, not a goose.

4) a lot of laws just didn’t exist yet, or didn’t exist in their modern form. For example, the law against mixing meat and dairy at this point applied only to mammals, and it referred only to how it was cooked. You couldn’t cook an animal in its own mother’s milk. If the ancient Judeans had had ancient chicken alfredo, that would’ve been fine. The rabbis of Talmud (by that point they were actual rabbis) expanded this law due to a superseding law whose name I can’t remember at the moment but the idea of that law is “don’t do anything that could look like you’re breaking Jewish law even if you’re not.” Since you can’t necessarily tell what a meat is without tasting it, or what kind of milk a dairy product has come from without tasting it, the expanded law says “just don’t eat meat and dairy together at all, it looks bad.” Other laws that exist now but didn’t then include the creation of an eruv and all laws surrounding Chanukkah, which celebrates events that didn’t occur until the 300s.

So TL; dr: yes, in theory Sun Tzu could have met Jews, or at least read our earliest writings; the Temple existed (although at that precise moment in time it was very small and not at all grand); and the laws of Judaism-as-we-know-it were just being formalized after a thousand years of oral tradition, so we were doing some stuff and not other stuff.

#you ask nina answers #Nina blogs Judaism

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