#//Oke; back to writings
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Kaeya deffo loves possessive partners, send tweet-
#hc; kaeya#//P sure I wrote smth like this before; but can't find it kjdxngdgh#//But ye#//Genuinely gets weak-kneed for real possessive partners; be it the kind who scare off ppl getting a lil TOO close to him#//Or the kind to mark him up/give him gifts to wear to show he's theirs#//It's like crack cocaine to him jknfkfth#//He draws the line at ppl getting hurt on his account (if they didn't mean any harm/show actual interest in him)#//But he won't actually make any moves to stop any fights if he genuinely thinks it's called for otherwise#//Before getting together with his partner; he deffo has his moments of deliberately setting off their jealousy/possessiveness#//Juuust bc he loves to see it. But also bc he genuinely can't believed he's cared abt that much#//In a relationship; he deffo reins himself back a LOT#//Has no problems with their possessiveness carrying over into their relationship#//Again; as long as it doesn't border on irrational to the extent of his other loved ones/innocent ppl getting hurt; he's cool with it#//It's just that feeling of his partner being obsessed with him with ABSOLUTE certainty he's the only one in their eyes that gets him#//It's not soft and pure; so he doesn't balk at it as much as he would typical tender and sweet love#//It's deffo overwhelming and would scare him at first; but seeing how serious they are would make him cave SO fast#//In an ideal world; he gets a lover with that duality down PAT#//Person who is genuinely a sweetheart that treats him right; with a possessive streak a mile wide#//Kae's more than confident he can handle them if he needs to draw attention to them crossing any lines#//And would likewise trust them to back off when he needs them too#//Bc he would deffo have the intention to reward them for following through with either boundary scenario#//Oke; back to writings#//Another reason why he is so accepting/welcoming of possessive partners is bc he himself V possessive of his beloved#//But HELLA holds back#//Would 100% match energy/possessiveness the INSTANT he's aware of it#//Albeit with slightly different methods to go about showing it; he DOES have a reputation to maintain after all
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stupid scenario #1:
they went to a pop concert but alastor has no idea who the singer is
#my art#radioapple#hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#hazbin alastor#takes a break from writing radioapple to draw radioapple lol#ok back to writing now
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Zelda goes mushroom girl
#tloz#a link to the past#zelda#link#my art#I was happy with that first one but for some reason decided it still needed a companion piece so I spent way too long on that second one...#I don't think there was any time during the progress where I was happy with it but hfduhdfu at least I got to Attempt drawing moss hell yea#I also at some point sat in Pyu's art stream and said I enjoy drawing legs As I was being murdered by the infamously impossibe (imo) squat.#it's ok I had fun !! but I need to learn how to let doodles be doodles or I'll never finish stuff at this rate dfsuhfd#if everything in my tloz tag looks like it was drawn by different people uuuh 2023 was art crisis year ngl......#I'm falling back into my old ways rn though#anyway I think about these two a lot I think they're both stone faced and awkward ppl in different ways but they try rly hard to be friends#like I like to think it starts out so incredibly awkward and a bit sad bc they keep stepping over each other's toes accidentally the harder#they try but idk they find comfy middle ground idk in my brain they have a very interesting friendship I wanna get around to drawing it#in a proper way that might make sense....#if I don't write 200 tags I will die maybe it's bc I grew up on dA or smth#and yes I know how to find 1 (one) type of mushroom /I/ am not mushroom girl unfortunately smh
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mating press is so objectively ugly ... embarrassing
#why was i looking this up on images and ninja mutant turtle inc*st was like the fourth image??? ummmmm ok#anyway it's still happening i just dont like thinking abt what it looks like from far away#i prefer it when its not so......... x shaped? i guess#i like it better when it's more... ankles by ears man is kneeling#IM JUST SAYING#ive gravitated back to my weird toji + kids au lmaooo#cuz i made a cake today and it got me thinking abt it#when will i write something of substance please#caitie blabs
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got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?
webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.
it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere
#i thought it was made by the creator of 'O Human Star' for some reason but apparently not?#goddammit goddammit goddammit#'i don't have to write down the title of this piece of media i encountered in my formative years bc i'll always remember it'#*cut to ten years later frantic googling*#fun fact 'a.i.' is now a completely useless search term#google in general is useless#and stuff i read 3+ years ago regularly vanishes from the internet#bookmarks are not enough! if you like indie media--download that shit! buy digital/physical copies while you can#save it to the cloud back it up and organize that shit!!!#keep a list of the stuff you read (organized by date/media type and possibly with keywords if you want it to be useful longterm)#(or a spreadsheet even if you're like me and rabidly consume short stories/comics like a pack of amnesiac piranhas on a feeding frenzy)#(that stuff PILES UP over the years ok. if you wanna make sure you'll be able to find it again a decade later--curation is key)#because art WILL touch your soul and then vanish into the void leaving naught but a 404 Error in its wake#i am an old man shaking my fist at the kids on my lawn but the kids on my lawn are me and my longterm digital planning skills circa 2012
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Checking up on his commission
#hate this guy. spoilers under tag cutoff#i fear i may have cooked with the tags. slash jay.#I've always imagined him with Particulars but I keep forgetting to draw them til like now#he speaks in lowercase to me. for reasons#I wanna know more about this untrustworthy bisexual but I also kinda wanna attack him every time he shows up#cant wait for the inevitable boss fight#fun fact: according to the dictionary 'nebulae' can refer to a clouded spot on the cornea that can cause defective vision#a limbus is 'the junction of the cornea and sclera in the eye'#so I think I speak for us all when I say WHAT THE FUCK MAN#what the hell was he on abt with Dante falling from the sky. and by sheep does he mean June 985 or?#if anyone wants to theorise on my post I'm all for it#limbus company#dante lcb#demian lcb#⏰🐍#unfortunately proud of that caption btw he really is just wanting his comm#HM WAIT BACK AGAIN#is the way the San was on about with leading the fallen nebulae home what causes J985?#as in - it is not people dying but them returning to their rightful place outside the City#with Purgatorio being the war 📘[i think] mentioned#is the doomsday Dante's head leading to the war? it typically refers to humanity's self destruction#or any globlal catastrophe#oh ok with PM is being sneaky again the Wiki page says it was inaugurated in June and guess when the MDE is#but generally things like nuclear war - AI and climate change are the main factors contributing to it#and we've already faced AI in the prev games via Angie so presumably one of the others will be the main force behind Dante's midnight#i personally like the nuclear angle given how Dante's head is already a clock#*BOMB. THEIR HEAD IS A BOMB THAT CAN BLOW UP#please do not write tags at night this was a bad idea
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My brain, choosing violence:
hey, don't think about how Emmrich watched Manfred die the same way his parents did, a large structure falling on them
and for a moment Emmrich regresses to the age he was when it happened, a scared helpless and lost little boy
That, right there, is little Emmrich, being brought right back to the worst moment of his life as a child, just look at that body language the devs chose for him in this moment.
Me, to my brain: hey can you maybe chill, Satan
(I know we don't know for certain if he actually witnessed the building collapse, but wouldn't it be fucked up if he did)
#and yet he still manages to gather himself enough (with Rook's support) to save the day like a boss (and potentially get his son back)#but like... OOF#dragon age spoilers#emmrich volkarin#dragon age#dragon age 4#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age veilguard#dragon age the veilguard#da4#DAtV#veilguard#WHY IS MY BRAIN SO BRUTAL OUT OF NOWHERE WTF GIVE THIS MAN A HUG#if someone wants to write an angst fic about that I'd love to see it ok#dragon age 4 spoilers
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oh, you’ve really done it now!
#this is SO messy when I get time I’ll do it better ajsbjsbsjshj this is literally just coloured sketches but I HAD to get it out of my brain#the glass scientists#tgs#tgs hyde#fanart#my art#art#mental breakdown time babyyyy#alternate title was a lyric from look who’s inside again but im not to sure how well that song fits whdvgevdggd#ok back to essay writing for uni 🫡
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Thinking about his brain
#fop nature au#fop#fairly oddparents#fop a new wish#fairly oddparents a new wish#dale dimmadome#art#digital art#fanart#doodle#He spends like all of his time irrationally terrified of going back to poverty#this was inspired by a panel change I had to make to the next comic im working on teehee teehee#originally I was going to have a funny gag of him describing how awful he felt#but I decided to change it because like. He would never admit that he felt bad#feeling bad is a sign of weakness. a sign of failure. a sign that he needs to try harder#like its not just Devs problems he's ignoring. he treats his own body pretty awfully too#not to write that entire thing off as a trauma response tho hes still objectively awful for not listening to his sons wishes#and he wouldn't have done the same if his own leg got as severely injured.#Having a leg amputated is scary he would have tried to salvage it#then again that is still arguably his fucked up version of love#I have thoughts ok!!!#he is so traumatized
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Kou's death
He died as the selfless idiot he is, but most of the fandom is missing a part. I've seen so many people talk about Teru and Akane seeing his dead body down the well, but nobody who said this:
He looks comforted by the lightning, some kind of wicked comfort.
"My brother's lightning…" he doesn't look like he feels betrayed, at all.
He was trying to kill Nene, one of his best friends, and he never would've been able to forgive himself if he succeeded. He's glad his BROTHER stopped him, that he was the one to wipe him away from the living world, even tho it was an accident
He finally understands what Hanako and Mitsuba meant by saying they want HIM, someone they trust, to exorcise them. It's hard to imagine as a living person, but as a dangerous supernatural it's as clear as day
What was Kou's best departure, was Teru's worst goodbye
#I cried while writing this ok#i miss my son#Kou come back ily#toilet bound hanako kun#jibaku shounen hanako kun#tbhk#jshk#tbhk 120#tbhk spoilers#kou minamoto#teru minamoto#minamoto brothers#IM KILLING YMSEKD#if you think you're kou's biggest fan no you're not
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OPPAPPI!!!!!!🗣️🗣️
#GEGE YOURE ALLOWED BACK IN THE KITCHEN#NEXT BRING BACK HIGURAMA#of course i have criticisms. but who cares if we got good writing we got hype and aura. NOBARA GANG WERE SO BACK#about to overtag here because i very much dont want to spoil anyone#jjk spoilers#jjk leaks#jjk 267#jjk manga spoilers#jujutsu kaisen spoilers#ok i think thats enough?#jjk#jujutsu kaisen fanart#jujutsu kaisen#nobara kugisaki#jjk nobara#yuji itadori#ryomen sukuna#true form sukuna#arata nitta#jjk memes#my art#fanart#artists on tumblr#digital art
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(花朵) ˖◌ 🖥️ TYPES OF BOYFRIENDS WITH ENHA HYUNG LINE ꒱ 🪽 ⋆ enhypen hyung line x f!reader ♡ fluff, skinship, 𓈃 ◌ CLiCK HERE ◞⠀
𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 - gamer bf
heeseung’s arms are wrapped around you, controller in hand as you sit snugly on his lap, leaning back into his chest. “comfortable, baby?” he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you nod, feeling the soft rumble of his laugh as he focuses on the game, fingers deftly moving across the buttons. “you’re my lucky charm, you know that?” he teases, pressing a quick kiss to your neck. you smile, your hands on top of his, “maybe i should be the one playing then,” you joke, but he just chuckles, nuzzling into your hair. with each victory, he tilts his head down to kiss you, the game almost forgotten in favor of holding you close. “i think you’re the real game changer here,” he says, voice soft
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 - rich bf
“surprise, babe,” jay says with a grin, holding out a sleek, gift-wrapped box. you raise an eyebrow, already knowing his tendency to spoil you. “jay, what did you do this time?” you ask, but there’s no stopping the smile tugging at your lips. “just something i thought you’d like,” he shrugs, but the excitement in his eyes gives him away. you carefully unwrap the gift, revealing an necklace. “jay, this is too much,” you whisper. he steps closer, gently taking the necklace and fastening it around your neck. “nothing’s too much for my princess,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against your skin. he admires the necklace on you for a moment before pulling you into his arms. “i just want to see you happy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead
𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 - loser bf
“i can’t believe i forgot our anniversary,” jake groans, slumping onto the couch next to you, his face buried in his hands. you chuckle, nudging him playfully. “it’s okay, jake. i’m not mad.” he peeks at you through his fingers, looking like a kicked puppy. “you should be, though. i’m the worst boyfriend ever.” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around him. “no, you’re just a little forgetful,” you tease, kissing his cheek. he sighs dramatically, leaning into your touch. “how did i get so lucky with you? you should’ve dumped me ages ago.” you laugh, shaking your head. “never. you’re my loser, remember?” his lips curl into a small smile as he pulls you closer, resting his head on your shoulder. “i’ll make it up to you, i swear,” he promises, and you can’t help but smile “i know you will, jake. that’s why i love you.”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇��𝐎𝐍 - overprotective bf
“who was that guy?” sunghoon asks, his tone a little too sharp as he watches the waiter walk away after taking your order. you glance at him, noticing the way his jaw is clenched, and you can’t help but smile. “just the waiter, hoon. relax,” you say, reaching across the table to take his hand. he sighs, still glaring at the spot where the waiter stood. “he was flirting with you and checking you out,” he mutters, squeezing your hand a bit tighter. you laugh softly, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “he was just being polite. you’re the only one i’m interested in, silly.” he finally looks at you, his expression softening, but there’s still a hint of jealousy in his eyes. “i just don’t like anyone looking at you like that,” he admits, voice low. you lean over the table, brushing a kiss on his lips. “you’ve got nothing to worry about, hoon. i’m all yours.” his lips twitch into a small smile, his grip on your hand relaxing. “yeah, you better be,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes now, and you know he’s back to his usual self.
#𐙚 nini works#fkaldfjk im back#OK this was lowkey so cute to write ESP hoon + jakes#enhypen imagines#enhypen#enhypen scenarios#enhypen fluff#enha imagines#enha x reader#enha fluff#lee heeseung#heeseung imagines#heeseung#jay au#sunghoon angst#park sunghoon#jungwon enhypen#enhypen au#enhypen icons#enhypen angst#enhypen fic#enhypen drabbles#enhypen headcanons#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x y/n#enhypen x yn#enhypen x female reader#enhypen soft thoughts#enhypen soft hours
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Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.
Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.
"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.
Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."
Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.
Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"
Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"
"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.
He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.
"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."
Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."
"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"
Fidds nods. "Sure do!"
"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."
Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"
"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"
The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"
This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.
"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."
"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.
"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"
Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"
"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.
He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.
"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"
"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"
"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"
Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.
"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"
"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.
Instead he riles him up.
"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"
Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."
"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"
Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"
"You're gonna defend us?"
"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"
"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"
"What!? No!"
"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"
The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.
"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."
Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."
"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.
"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.
Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"
"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"
The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.
Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.
He can't wait to teach him wrestling.
#woke up at 2 in the morning and had this dire need to write something cliche and fluffy apparently#stanford pines#fiddlestan#fiddleford mcgucket#stanley pines#mystery trio#gf#ok back to sleeo now#i hope this all makes sense when i wake up in three hours for work#look i wrote a thing#AU#i havent been able to get enough of these three dorks im sorry#i just...love mystery trio in the 80s AU so muhmcg#much#damnit#this got a lot longer than i thought#who needs sleep anyway i will function with the power of coffee#will eventually clean this up and move it over to ao3
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scene from that new wip. dean badgered cas into this photograph and he's very proud of himself
#spn#sketch#destiel#i might finish this one later#sometimes when i am writing drawing is like. no.#go away. come back later.#so im trying to just#barge through the door like. i live here ok
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fool ; jude bellingham
summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.
pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader
content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)
a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy 🫶🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)
you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.
on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off.
it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.
it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.
instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?
no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.
with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person.
a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.
jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)
jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤
he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad.
you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.
you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤
you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.
***
and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends.
as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.
“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.
“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for.
“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”
the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.
“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”
you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.
he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.
“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”
jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.
“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.”
this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it.
you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.
“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words.
upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.
***
not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.
“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.
the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though.
“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”
he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.
“i’m sorry, i just…” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.
instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.
his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other.
it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel.
you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.
you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests.
your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.
you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again.
the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.
the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.
***
you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude
you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.
running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.
a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late.
trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry.
“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”
your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”
you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head.
“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.
you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home.
“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”
you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.
“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up.
jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.
he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.
“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision.
“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.
jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.
he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.
“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.
he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs.
once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now.
“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.
“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely.
he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.
jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy.
you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s.
“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.”
his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release.
“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,”
jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste.
“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”
the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once.
“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”
jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.
“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions.
jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.
a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.
“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.
you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.
“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones.
“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.
a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.
he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail.
the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.
after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.
“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.
“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.
“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.”
you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.
you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.
#girlies i’ve never had alcohol in my life so i hope the way i wrote reader & jude being drunk was ok !!! 🫶🏽#then again i’ve never had sex in my life and i write extensively about it so u know . 😭😭😭#guys imagine if before every smut fic i wrote a disclaimer like ‘guys i-i’ve never had sex before but i hope i did okay with this 🥺🥺' LMAO#ALSO omg im sorry abt the inconsistencies in tone + tempo i legit wrote this over a 5 month period + came back to it at times when i didnt#feel like writing + i was just tryna get to the good bit iykwim ( ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ °)#˗ˏˋ 📝 ˎˊ˗#˗ˏˋ 💬 ˎˊ˗#jude bellingham#jude bellingham smut#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham x fem!reader#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham x y/n#football imagine#footballer smut#footballer imagine
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My opinion on the Latino Jason Todd headcanon
While I do understand ppl's criticism of the latino Jason todd headcanon and how its kind of racist to make the kid with parents with drug problems as the latino one, to me its more of a reclamation BECAUSE of DC's racism.
Read any 80s/90s batman issue that covers gang violence and drugs, most if not ALL of the criminals are poc; black people and latinos visibly make up the majority in the poorer neighbourhoods in Gotham. Aside from the caricaturist way they r drawn/speak, its not THAT weird cause its a reflection of irl big cities where immigrants and marginalised ppl are often forced to live in such situations, (like most of my dominican family lives in the bronx... it aint racist to say dominicans tend to flock there), BUT...the weird part is when the second a sympathetic character comes from that area, he's white and has a name thats "too fancy for the streets".
Obviously, Jason was created to look like the old robin, so I can't say that the whole "diamond in the rough" situation was purposely a tad bit racist, but its still a lil weird (especially with bruce's comment).
If Jason were a part of the overwhelming demographic in his area, the good-kid-in-a-bad-area trope has less connotations. DC is currently trying to fix this trope is by making crime alley whiter, which isn't bad but they could've just yk... humanised the non-white residents.
I also feel like the messed up way Jason was treated post-death is what makes him so relatable to latino readers. His tragic story of dying while trying to save his only living relative is turned into a lesson for newer vigilantes. Jason's particular disdain for abusers on a few occasions was twisted (by both writers and characters) into him always being dumb, reckless, cocky, angry and disobedient, always violent, never having been able to get over his upbringing. None of those things were true (he was a normal level of reckless and cocky like every other robin, not more), but its an easier narrative to digest compared to how it was in reality; a kid who worked so hard and loved even harder, died to save a woman who couldn't care less about his existence. He was an emotional AND smart kid who wanted so bad to help others get better but was remembered as too emotional (in a bad way).
THIS is the reality for many latino diasporas in day to day life; Theres no question that Latino culture is passionate and emotive, but people from other cultures assume that it is followed by instead of logical. both can coexist. emotion does not mean u have no logic. Emotions can be irrational but they aren't inherently that way, and I wouldn't say that the moments where Jason lashed out as a teenager were irrational (in og runs, not rewrites post red hood), they were mostly done to protect someone (going crazy on abusers, disobeying batman to save sheila, that time he got into a fight at school to defend his friend).
A lot of euro-centric culture is OBSESSED with the idea that rationality is separate from feelings and emotions, but not crying at a funeral doesn't mean you're better than those who do. Emotions are the basis of human ethics and morals, they define the way we interact as a collective and ignoring them does not mean they are not there. Theres no winner to a contest of who can feel the less. And the way Jason's emotions are treated (pre-rh, hes definitely unhinged afterwards lol) is so in line with how white culture tends to punish those who aren't ashamed to feel.
I TOTES UNDERSTAND that some ppl who headcanon Jason as latino are doing it for the complete opposite of reasons, like "oh here some angry emotional guy with druggie parents, haha must be latino". Its weird. I dont like it. And its only brought up so he can swear in spanish in some rlly bad text post where his emotions are getting out. But to me there's so much potential for metanarrative and commentary on how latinos are treated in media that can be exemplified through the way his character is treated. Being latino would add SO MUCH DEPTH to his character and his dynamic with the others.
#this is just my rant lol#for the non-latinos who wanna write latino jason todd pls stop the spanglish... he dont even have to speak spanish at all#you can incorporate elements of his culture/upbringing (pls pick a country tho the experience is so diff everywhere)#im super biased but carribean jason>>>>#ok but like undead lore in dominican culture is crazyyyy... like the myth of zombies comes from hispanola#my grandma was genuinely terrified of waking up in her coffin bc of stories of ppl coming back to life that she wanted to be cremated#jason todd#latino jason todd#red hood#batfam
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