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summertimemusician · 10 months

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Unenlighted: Sky and Wild don't have that good of a relationship due to Sky's guilt and Wild not feeling he's good enough when compared to any of his predecessors because he failed the kingdom once and it gets exacerbated by the events of TOTK, similar case with Flora and Sun.

Enlightened: Sky and Wild have a pretty good relationship, but it's still strained because of both their problems and the strain grows bigger after TOTK when Fi breaks, Sun likes Flora just fine as a descendant while Flora is incessantly tormented by the fact she always believed her entire life she'd never measure up to the other Zelda's because she couldn't fulfill her duty anymore than Wild could, and it causes communication.

Ascended: Sky and Twilight having a full blow custody war in the back because they both see Wild as a better successor than he believes himself to be due to the parallels to BOTW, TOTK and Skyward Sword even though it's technically Twilight Princess' spiritual sucessor (since it was originally made to be a sequel to that game) and Sky and Wild both get along well with one another, and instead of getting angry at Wild for breaking Fi he's more so worried for him and her equally (and then has to be held back by the rest of the Chain along with Twi to not eviscerate whatever's left of Ganondorf's body) meanwhile Sun all but surprise adopted Flora as a sister and is super supportive of all her pursuits and number one hype woman because she was as unhinged as her at her age and Flora is flabbergasted but really really happy and relieved she doesn't see her as a disappointment or anything and they get along like the sister she never had growing up. Specially since they can both bond over not being quite regular humans anymore and can help one another deal and learn more about it.

I will not elaborate.

#linked universe #tears of the kingdom spoilers #kinda?#eh #give me the found family dynamic in full and more Sky and Wild and Sun and Flora parallels and bonding folks #you're telling me Sky wouldn't see Wild's arm and not immediately be asking for names? specially after he sees Fi?#It's their who did this to you moment #Friendly reminder Sun was supposed to have an independent mode in SS we were robbed off #and also that the first thing she did upon getting to the surface was not sticking around Impa in the temple #but explore and want to know more. she jumped onto the Kiwi Elder's stomach just to get to a temple so she'd try learning more #she was trained as a knight much like Link was and possibly for longer than him #and she's Hylia's mortal vessel #you can't tell me she wouldn't have torn Rhoam a new one or that she's fully human #or that she also wouldn't have stabbed Ganondorf if she had the chance #she pushes Sky off Skyloft and off the goddess' statue with no warning #and presumably it's not the first time she was ready to throw hands with Groose over Sky in SS #She's as feral and capable as any of the other Zelda's and it honestly shows in Sonia so she'd definitely encourage Flora the most #Summer's Sleep Deprived Rambles

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badassindistress · 11 months

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✨Closet Costume Challenge✨

I had such fun last year with this what would you wear game, that I wanted to play a similar game and I invite anyone with costumes languishing in their closet to play along and show off a little!

Send me a number and I'll improvise an outfit to go with the prompt from what's already in my closet!

What would you wear...?

To spectate a duel held for your honour

To the banquet where you intend to poison a king

To usurp the crown

To bargain with Death

To greet the Private Investigator investigating your fourth husband’s untimely demise

To your first secret rendez-vous with the princess

To wander distractedly across the moors

To welcome your arch enemy into your evil lair

To have a teaparty with Mary Poppins

To sneak into Marie-Antoinnette’s parties

To attend a dinner party hosted by the Addams family

To tend to your garden of poisonous plants

To steal a priceless piece of art from unworthy hands

To read loveletters in your private boudoir

To dance the night away in a speakeasy

To play the merry widow

To infiltrate a debutante ball

To a Shire birthday party

To serve on Titania's court

Free space - Make up a different cool prompt

#i tried to do several different genres of outfit #reblogs very welcome i want everyone to show off their costumes #indulge me #this is gonna be a slow game for me #because i intend to take new pictures for every situation #but folks are encouraged to use existing costume pictures if they have a good one too ofc

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corporealconcept · 5 months

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Welcome to @corporealconcept! ♪♬

My name is Margaret until I decide otherwise and I’ll play any instrument my hands can hold and sing any melody my voice can carry. Folk music of all kinds has been an integral part of who I am for as long as I can remember, from the bagpipes to the balalaika to the banjo. I wanted an online space to archive and discuss my favorite traditional/folk pieces and possibly document any progress I make as a musician :) Primarily, I play the piano and tin whistle, but I’m rather handy with the guitar and ukulele and I’m learning the harmonica and ocarina too!

If this sort of thing is right up your alley, I’d be happy to see you around, and check out my main blog @doonthestair (a folk song reference itself, actually!) for other interests and antics <3

#welcome!#new blog #blog intro #music blog #folk music #introductory post #you are always invited to talk to me about anything I post!#in fact #I encourage it!

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emilianadarling · 2 years

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title: only as strong as the warrior next to you (Chapter 6: Ghosts in the Nursery) author: Emiliana Darling (AO3/Tumblr) beta: carogolden (AO3/Tumblr) chapter: 6/10 fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian, Obi-Wan Kenobi (Series) pairings: Luke Skywalker/Din Djarin, Leia Organa/Han Solo rating: explicit (increased this chapter) length: 70,528 words so far series: part 2 of the ignorant and the weak (AO3/Tumblr Series Masterpost) contains: Alternate Universe (Canon Divergence, Dark Luke, Imperial, Royal), Sith Luke and Leia, Unreliable Narrator, Kidnapping, Captivity, Power Imbalance, Dubious Consent, Possessive/Obsessive Behavior, Sharing a Bed, Manipulation, Domestic Theater, Slow Burn, Touch Starved, Marking, Implied/Referenced Dark Content, PTSD, Past Rape/Non-Con, Depictions of Fascism, Mind Control/Mind Manipulation

summary: With an indolent air, Luke rests his elbows on the railing, then leans forward to better take in the action.Below, the Mandalorian is already in motion, beskar a glinting contrast to the mostly-black floors and walls. Luke’s eyes trail him as he moves, both bitter and gluttonous in the act of taking him in. Taking stock of concrete half-walls, helmet tilting upward to survey the turrets looming above. Exploring the terrain before the simulation is initiated; expected, but still noteworthy. His movements are precise and deliberate, the lingering tension beneath his armor in no way affecting his outer professionalism.

Compartmentalization is a skill Luke learned involuntarily; a way to cope with the horror that was once his daily existence. Din, though – he embodies the very practice of it. That rigid separation between self and other.

The Mandalorian’s inner world is so vast, Luke could get lost in it

Imperial High Prince Skywalker has taken himself a bodyguard.

The Mandalorian, and the rest of the galaxy, don’t know what’s coming for them.

#it's here!!!#dinluke #din djarin #luke skywalker #the mandalorian #star wars #skydalorian #sith luke skywalker #imperial luke skywalker #dark luke skywalker #one or two new warnings this chapter folks #i really hope that people enjoy <3 <3 <3 #only as strong as the warrior next to you #thank you eternally to everyone reading along and encouraging #it means the world!!!#emiliana writes things #fandom

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acepalindrome · 5 months

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Alternatives to Squishmallow

So as many of you have probably already heard, Jazwares, the company that produces Squishmallows, is donating to charities that support Israeli soldiers and the IDF. They’re also supporting Canary Mission, which has been doxxing people who speak out against Israel. BDS hasn’t called for a boycott against them, but I can’t in good faith spend my money on their products, and I would strongly encourage everyone who enjoys plushies to really think long and hard about if you want to give your money to a company that’s helping support genocide!

But the holidays are coming up, and lots of us enjoy plushies and were fans of Squishmallow, and were planning to give Squishmallows to friends and family this year.

Fortunately, there are a number of great plushie companies out there, and I want to promote some of my favorites in the hopes that folks will get their plushie fix from a source that doesn’t side with Israel. So without further ado:

Fluffnest

Fluffnest got their start on Kickstarter a few years ago, and I adore the round shapes of their PuffPal plushies! My favorite is Pete the Possum, which is probably the best possum plush I’ve ever seen. I’ve also got a beautiful moth from their Kickstarter and I’ve been wanting their bats for ages. They also recently had a Kickstarter for an Animal Crossing-esque video game featuring their plushie characters and it looks fantastic.

Squishables

I can’t get over the plague doctor plushies. They’re so perfect and cute, and they’ve released other variations of them called Alter Egos, like a ghostly version, an alien, or a really sweet cottagecore one! They’ve got a ton of variety, but what I like the most are the fantasy plushies. There’s a lich! There are dragons and demons! Cryptids! Biblically accurate angels! A lot of really fun stuff!

Also they do a lot of great charity work! Right now they’re doing an auction for the Food Bank of New York City.

AfternoonFika

AfternoonFika is a very small business of only three people, but their plushies are extremely cute. They tend to sell out fast, so I recommend following them on social media to stay on top of any restocks! They recently released a line of dinosaurs that are precious, and of course I love their iconic cactus cat and cinnamon bun bunny.

Jellycat

Jellycat has been around since 1999, so they’re the oldest of these companies. They’ve got great designs, a ton of variety, and a lot of their plushies are made to be cuddled on and not just displayed. All three of my tiny nephews sleep with a different stuffed dog from Jellycat. My mom has a sun and several succulents that she uses as decorations. There’s a little something for everyone who enjoys plushies!

If you have any other favorite companies I haven’t mentioned, feel free to add on! I’ve enjoyed Squishmallows for a while now and I’m sad to see their leadership coming out on the side that’s committing war crimes on a daily basis, but this is a good time to discover new favorite plushie companies! And remember, money speaks loudly. Even if BDS hasn’t called for a boycott of Jazwares, it sends a message when sales start dropping for companies that support genocide. It’s a small thing, but the little things we do can add up!

#squishmallow #squishable #fluffnest #afternoonfika #jellycat #gaza #palestine #long post

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tieronecrush · 4 months

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secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage.

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.”

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl.

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss.

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

taglist: @atinylittlepain @swiftispunk @joelsversion @mrsmando @ilovepedro @lovers-liability @deathwife @undrthelights @atticrissfinch @casa-boiardi @wannab-urs @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @fishingforpike @msjarvis @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sugadolly @yazsos @peppesgirl @pastawench @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @anoverwhelmingdin @spishsstuff @wolfbook87 @mswarriorbabe80 @harriedandharassed @decemberdolly @laiisleitte @fierce-bab @vickie5446 @pertinentpostmortem @livingdeadmaria @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @its-nebuleuse @marini03 @piercethevic03 @joeandpedrosimp @planet-marz1 @txtattoostark @jrosie25 @thereaperisabitch @tbniarq @vee-bees-blog @spidermanfrog @belliezz @joelsflannel @cartoon-garbage04 @bianqueee04 @nostalxgic @xyzstar @cumberpegg @b00klvrs @burningnerdchild

#joel #writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #tlou fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tw daddy kink #cw daddy kink

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ao3commentoftheday · 6 months

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I don't know if you've seen the latest iteration of "tumblr is dying" but if you haven't, Automattic (owners of tumblr) have decided they will put the site into maintenance mode. This doesn't mean that tumblr will disappear, it just means that they'll keep the lights on and that's about it. They're taking the staff who have been working hard to try to make the site a success, and they're relocating those folks to other projects. A skeleton crew will remain on tumblr, keeping the site alive.

If we want tumblr to thrive, however, then we need to do something to support it - and that something is financial.

If you're someone who enjoys your time on tumblr and you're someone who has an entertainment budget, then consider visiting the TumblrMart and buying yourself a badge. Go ad-free. Choose the new option that I just discovered which is "Support tumblr" - that's the shiny t badge I now have that will change colour over time for the longer I subscribe.

This doesn't require every single user to pay for tumblr. Far from it. Just look at AO3 as the example. Time after time, they hit their fundraising goals and beyond, and I don't think they've ever had more than 10K individual donors for a userbase of something like 5 million.

I've been on this site for a decade. It's the only social media I actually like. I think the internet would be worse off if tumblr wasn't around. I'm going to pay what I can to keep this community around, and I'm going to encourage others to do the same.

If that's something you don't want to see, then feel free to block the tag subsidize tumblr that I'll use on posts like that. If you're open to the idea, then expect the occasional post from me on the subject.

Fandom has lost enough homes in my lifetime. If I can do anything to keep this one around, I will.

#subsidize tumblr #deliberately not using the word support here #in order to avoid being derailed #if at all possible

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theshitpostcalligrapher · 6 months

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NEW PRINT DESIGNS

ayyyy!!! it's late october! which means we're ONE WEEK out from the annual holiday sales to begin!

So like I said, starting on the 29th, I'll be releasing a new print design every day until i release all seven prints

On that day, November 4, 2023, I'm gonna trigger the store-wide holiday sale that I do once a year to encourage folks to get their orders in time for the holidays since I do need to ship out of Canada (snail mail)

This sale will last one month, until the first week of December or so, the last hope of getting your order in on time.

NEW PRINTS:

Day One: Someone, I tell you, in another time, will remember us

#calligraphy #sappho #shop #boost

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buhok-ng-bruha · 2 years

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Uh oh! A Jehovah’s Witness is at my door!

A guide on what the fuck is happening and what to do about it as a never JW, from an exJW.

JW congregations have just been told to start doing door-to-door preaching (aka ‘service’/‘service work’/‘witnessing’) again this September. They stopped for the past few years due to…well. The whole state of things. But it’s starting again! Fuck!

So, to get you folks in on the Secret Inner-workings of a Cult:

JWs do service work mostly on Saturdays and Sundays, but any day of the week is fair game, just less of them will be out on other days. Generally it’ll be in the mornings (anywhere between 9AM to 1PM being common, my family did 10AM to noon Saturdays), but any time of day is also fair game. Evening witnessing is encouraged, to catch parts of the service area who didn’t answer during morning service, like people who were at work or asleep.

JWs are given ‘territories’: entire neighborhoods if they’re a majority language and can generally bet on most of the people in a given area speaking that language; SPECIFIC ADDRESSES if they belong to a smaller language demographic. These are on ‘territory cards’, which include areas to fill out once they’ve called on houses. They often pull addresses from the phone book or other such directory, pulling based on name, or get referred new addresses from neighborhood sweeps in other congregations and were told x language was being spoken, so if you get called on by someone speaking your language and wonder how they got your address, it’s because they’ve collected data already! On You!

On that note: JWs collect data on you! A lot of it!! Those territory cards they fill out? They can include any information they gleaned from conversation (age? gender? personal details like if you’re married, if you live with your parents, etc? what religion do you belong to? any problems in your life they can ‘help’ with? any ‘problematic’ details, like if you’re queer? all of it.); if someone was home or not (yes we can see you peeking out from behind your curtains! we looked in windows!); if the person answering the door was uninterested; if they were aggressive; if they have dogs; if we were able to leave any publications with them; the details of any conversations we had, like which topics we discussed and which seemed to interest you the most; when to call on you again. The areas to fill this in on these cards are rather small so they usually only write down the most important information, but it is the most important information for trying to indoctrinate you into a cult. DO NOT give them any personal information. It will be used against you.

So that’s the gist of it. Now, you don’t want them at your door, probably.

Please do not harass them.

I know they’re annoying. We always knew we were being annoying. They do it anyways because they think they’re helping you. They often have children with them - not only because it’s often families going preaching together, but also because it’s a well known tactic to get a softer response from people they call on, to have a child with you. Even if there are no children, please do not harass JWs - they are cult victims, and doing so will only enforce their ‘us vs them’ mentality, and discourages members from leaving. The outside world hates you so much, so how can you leave?

“But what if—“ Nope! Beyond the whole ‘don’t be fucking cruel to abuse victims’ thing, it doesn’t even work! I’ve been threatened with dogs; my mother has been threatened with machetes; others have been flashed, or physically assaulted - we still went back eventually. Usually someone else would get the assignment, and usually we’d wait a bit, but we still went back.

“Okay, but what the fuck do I do, then?”

You open the door (yes, open the door; if you ignore them they’ll return again, assuming they just missed you or you were busy), let them tell you what they’re there for, and before the conversation goes further, you simply say:

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

And then you tell them goodbye. Nothing more. Don’t say you have your own religion. Don’t say you’re queer. Don’t try to use the ‘magic word’ apostate - actual former members can get harassed.

Unfortunately, despite this being the most successful and least harmful strategy, it isn’t 100% foolproof. They’re supposed to write ‘do not call’ on the territory card next to your address, but they’re human and forget sometimes (or might not mark it intentionally, though I haven’t seen that personally); the next person who gets that card might not see the mark, as well. On top of everything else, even if not forgotten, they will eventually come back. It’s policy to come by after some time to check on you, ‘just in case’: just in case you changed your mind, just in case you moved and there’s someone else there now, just in case, oh, you recently had a loved one pass away and suddenly find yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position in need of support and sympathy.

If you have the knowledge and mental/emotional energy and stability to, you can go about trying to debate them, maybe help some of them doubt, but it is no easy task and there is no guarantee of any success. It takes a lot of patience. They are undergoing some extreme brainwashing and ‘waking up’ is incredibly traumatizing, and you will face a lot of resistance in trying to deconvert any of them. Again, only attempt this if you have the energy, stability, and knowledge required - the delicacy required, too. Otherwise, remember, it’s

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

Nothing more.

#cult #how to avoid jws #how to avoid jehovah’s witnesses #please reblog #psa #exjw

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spacedace · 29 days

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Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

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