#<- isn’t diffusion fun like that????

[noctilionoidea]

Kinda meh Ashtart I worked on and off on during school. For the most part I wasn’t able to reference my design for her but I did get it close. I don’t like how the coloured pencil looks here though. Eh

[pucksandpower]

Man’s World

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader

Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected

Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments

You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.

Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.

You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.

This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.

You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.

You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.

You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”

The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”

You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”

You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.

“That’s enough.”

You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.

“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.

Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”

Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.

The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”

The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.

The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”

Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection — that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”

You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.

“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”

You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”

Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.

“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”

Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”

The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”

Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.

Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.

But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”

Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”

“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”

You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.

The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.

“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.

Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”

You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”

That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”

Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”

You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”

Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”

You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.

“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.

You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”

Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”

Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.

You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”

Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”

You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.

"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."

You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”

You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.

For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.

[littlesoulshine]

three's a company

parings: bsf!dean winchester x reader x bsf!sam winchester

synopsis: the three of you have been best friends for years, but tonight something feels different in the impala’s close quarters. dean’s cocky smirk and sam’s soft, lingering touches make it clear—this isn’t just friendly teasing anymore. by the time you reach the motel, the air between you is charged, and there’s no ignoring the shift.

warnings: no smut

the impala’s low rumble hummed beneath you as the night stretched on, the stars scattered across the dark canvas above. you sat between dean and sam, the familiar warmth of their presence surrounding you, but tonight, there was something different in the air—something electric, palpable, that made your pulse race.

dean’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming a lazy beat as his gaze flicked to you in the rearview mirror, that trademark smirk curling his lips. “you know, sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice casual but laced with something more, “i’ve been thinking. maybe you’ve been spending too much time with sam. might be time for you to remember who’s really got your back.”

sam snorted, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter as he turned to glance at you, his hazel eyes warm but filled with a teasing challenge. “or maybe she just appreciates a little intelligence, dean. someone who can actually hold a conversation.”

dean’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with that cocky confidence you knew all too well. “intelligence, huh? well, last i checked, she seemed to enjoy a little fun. maybe she needs someone who can show her a good time.”

the tension in the car thickened, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge as both their gazes settled on you, waiting, watching, their words laced with double meanings that made your stomach flutter. “you two do realize i’m right here, right?” you interjected, a laugh escaping you as you tried to diffuse the growing intensity.

“oh, we know,” dean said smoothly, his smirk never faltering as he glanced at you again. “just making sure you don’t forget who you can count on when things get… interesting.”

sam’s hand brushed against yours, a subtle but deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine. “and i’m just reminding you that some of us like to take our time, make sure everything’s… perfect.”

your cheeks heated, their words, their attention, making it impossible to ignore the undercurrent that had been building between the three of you for weeks, months even. “are you two seriously flirting with me right now?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light, teasing, even as your heart pounded in your chest.

dean chuckled, the sound low and full of mischief. “what if we are?”

sam’s smile softened, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he was just as serious. “would that be a problem?”

you leaned back, letting your gaze flick between them, weighing your options, feeling the power shift in your favor. “not a problem,” you said slowly, a smile tugging at your lips. “as long as you two can play nice. i’ve got enough of me to go around.”

the car fell into a stunned silence, the weight of your words sinking in before dean let out a low whistle, his smirk turning wicked. “damn, sweetheart. didn’t know you had it in you.”

sam’s laughter was softer, but the heat in his eyes was unmistakable as he leaned closer, his hand brushing your arm, a deliberate, lingering touch. “you sure about that? because if you are…”

“i’m sure,” you interrupted, your voice steady, confident. “but no fighting over me. deal?”

they exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them before they both nodded, almost in sync. “deal,” dean said, his voice full of challenge.

“deal,” sam echoed, his smile widening.

the rest of the drive passed in a haze of anticipation, the tension thick but not uncomfortable, more like a promise hanging in the air. when you finally pulled into the motel parking lot, the silence between you all was charged, your heart beating faster as you stepped out of the car.

dean was beside you in an instant, his hand on your lower back, guiding you toward the door with a grin that was all cocky charm. “guess we’ll see who you really like spending time with,” he teased, his eyes dancing with mischief.

sam wasn’t far behind, his hand brushing yours as he leaned in, his voice low. “we’ll see who can make you smile the most.”

you laughed, the sound light and genuine, as you stepped into the room, the air between the three of you buzzing with something new, something exciting. “i guess i’ve got the best of both worlds,” you said, throwing them a glance over your shoulder. “and i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

author's note: changing up my format!

taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @legalmente-loca @bluemerakis

[atriza]

Bound by Lies

Yandere Park Sunghoon x Reader

Summary: a fake relationship between you and Park Sunghoon spirals into something much darker. What started as a harmless lie to fend off prying friends quickly turns into a suffocating trap as Sunghoon's feelings blur the lines between reality and obsession.

Word Count: 2,000 words

Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of obsession, emotional manipulation, possessiveness, and implied non-consensual behavior.

It all began with a harmless lie.

Your friends had been teasing you relentlessly about being single, so in a moment of panic, you blurted out that you were dating Park Sunghoon. It wasn’t entirely out of left field—he was the perfect candidate. With his angelic face, effortless charm, and aloof demeanor, no one would suspect a thing.

But what surprised you the most was how willingly Sunghoon played along.

“It’ll be fun,” he had said, his lips curling into a smile that made your heart skip a beat.

And it was fun at first. Sunghoon would wrap his arm around your shoulders when your friends were watching, flash you teasing winks, and even post carefully staged photos on social media. You never thought much of it—it was all pretend.

Or so you thought.

---

Now, sitting across from him in a quiet café, you could feel the weight of his gaze. Sunghoon stirred his coffee absentmindedly, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl.

“You don’t seem happy,” he said, his tone calm but carrying an edge you couldn’t ignore.

“I’m fine,” you lied, forcing a smile. “It’s just… this has gone on longer than I expected.”

Sunghoon set his spoon down, the clink of metal against ceramic making you flinch.

“Why does it have to end?” he asked, leaning forward. His voice was soft, but the look in his eyes was anything but.

You blinked, startled. “Because it’s not real, Sunghoon. We were just pretending, remember?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He simply studied you, his gaze unwavering. Then, he smiled—a small, almost pitying smile.

“Pretending,” he echoed. “Is that what you think this is?”

Your heart sank. “That’s what we agreed on.”

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “Y/N, do you really believe that? After everything we’ve done—everything I’ve done for you?”

You froze, unsure how to respond. “Sunghoon, I—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm but not loud. “Let me ask you something. Do you feel nothing when I hold your hand? When I look at you like this?”

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours. His touch was warm, but it sent a chill down your spine.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “This isn’t real.”

His eyes darkened, his hand tightening over yours. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. Panic bubbled in your chest as his calm facade began to crack, revealing something far more sinister underneath.

“I’ve been by your side this whole time,” he said, his voice low and trembling with suppressed emotion. “I’ve protected you. Made you happy. And now you’re telling me it meant nothing?”

“I never said that,” you stammered, desperate to diffuse the situation.

“Then what are you saying?” he pressed, his tone sharp.

You looked away, your heart pounding. “I’m saying this was supposed to be temporary. We can’t keep pretending.”

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Pretending? Do you really think that’s all this is to me? A game?”

Your silence only seemed to fuel his frustration. He stood abruptly, pulling you to your feet with him.

“Sunghoon, let go,” you said, panic rising in your voice.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “Do you think anyone else will care about you the way I do? Do you think anyone else will protect you?”

“This isn’t protection,” you snapped, tears pooling in your eyes. “This is control.”

His jaw tightened, but his grip didn’t falter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m doing this for us, Y/N. You’re just scared. But that’s okay—I’ll help you see.”

“See what?” you asked, your voice breaking.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That we’re meant to be together.”

---

Sunghoon led you out of the café, his hand firmly gripping yours. You looked around frantically, hoping someone would notice, would intervene. But the streets were empty, the night swallowing your cries for help.

“Where are we going?” you demanded, your voice shaking.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied simply.

“Safe for who?” you snapped.

“For you,” he said, his tone final. “I can’t trust anyone else to look after you. Not your friends, not your family. They don’t understand you like I do.”

Your breath hitched. “Sunghoon, you’re not thinking clearly. Please, just let me go.”

He stopped abruptly, turning to face you. His eyes burned with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“I’m thinking perfectly clearly,” he said, his voice cold. “You’re the one who doesn’t see it yet. But you will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. His embrace was suffocating, his presence overwhelming.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

You struggled against him, but it was no use. His grip was too strong, his determination unshakable.

As the night wore on, the realization sank in like a stone in your chest. This wasn’t a game to Sunghoon. It never had been.

To him, this was real.

And he was never going to let you go.

---

[arcaneloverxx]

The Confrontation

Summary: You wake up Vi to confront her about cheating on you. Well, cheating on you in your dream.

Pairing: Vi x fem!reader

Warning: Cursing? other than that, nothing :)

Word Count: 0.9k

You quickly jolt awake with a gasp and pounding heart. Frantically, you look around your surroundings with tears building in your eyes from the very realistic dream that you had of your girlfriend and some blonde girl.

You look beside you, and there she is. Vi. Your lovely girlfriend. Sleeping oh so peacefully. She has her lips slightly parted as she breathes in and out. And the crease that’s usually between her brows are gone, leaving her to look as relaxed as she can be. 

Unfortunately, in the moment, she doesn’t seem like the lovely girlfriend that you adore.

God, why am I even feeling like this? It was a fucking dream. But you just couldn’t help the dark thought swirling in your head. Thinking that Vi could actually cheat on you. 

You sit there and debate for a moment before you decide to wake her from her slumber.

“Vi?” You whisper, tapping her a bit. Her eyes flutter a little, but she remains asleep.

“Vi?” You say a bit louder. Vi’s eyes flicker open and she stares at you groggily and a little disoriented, confusion swimming her eyes.

“Hey babe, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” She asks you. Now having her awake and actually staring into her eyes, her voice like music to your ears, you realize how stupid you are being. It was just a damn dream, so why do you feel so betrayed?

 For a moment, all you can do is stare at her. Next thing you know, your buried into her side, letting the tears that you worked up with all the negative what-ifs swirling around your head, fall free in the crook of Vi’s neck.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s the matter sweet girl? Why are you crying?” She asks you, while wrapping her arms around you. She sits up a little while trying to get you to look at her, but you jus feel so ashamed for how you’re reacting to a dream that you just can’t look her in the eye.

“C’mon pretty, you can tell me. What’s got my girl so upset?” The way she sweetly talks to you makes you even more embarrassed now. Why in the hell are you so worked up over this, it’s Vi we’re talking about, she wouldn’t actually hurt me like that. But, unfortunately, it’s like your brain just refuses to believe it until you hear Vi say it herself.

“Nothing, it’s stupid. Sorry for waking you, you can go back to bed.” You say trying to diffuse the situation you’ve created.

Vi hooks a finger under your chin, drawing your face to look at hers. “If it has you this upset, it obviously isn’t stupid. Now, tell me what’s wrong.” She says after getting you to look at her.

You close your eyes and release a sigh before looking back at her. “Ugh, just- just promise you won’t laugh.” After Vi promises not to laugh, you shyly look away before looking back and confessing what’s got you so upset and worked up.

“Well, I had this dream that you- uhm- cheated on me…” Its silent for a moment, and then you hear a faint chuckle. Jolting your head up, you can see a slight smile on Vi’s scarred lips.

“Vi, you promised you wouldn’t laugh!” You whine, looking away from your girlfriend and shifting your body away from hers. 

“No, no sweetheart, I don’t think it’s funny. Just-caught me off guard, that’s all.” She say reaching over and pulling you back in

“Your upset because dream me cheated on you?” You look over at her and decided to tell her the rest of the dream and the reasons you’re so upset.

“It’s not just that. It’s the way you acted in the dream. It’s like you didn’t even care if I saw you with her. You knew I was there and you made it feel like it was my fault. Saying that if I was pretty enough, or more fun to be around, you wouldn’t have had to cheat in the first place. And it just felt so real.” You tell her, the tears building back up in your eyes.

Vi finally saw how truly this dream disturbed you. How the dream made you doubt her love for you.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I would never do that to you, you know that right? You are by far the best thing that happened to me, and I wouldn’t want anyone but you, you understand? You’re it for me.” Vi said to you softly while cupping your cheeks, whipping away the tears that trickled past your eyes. 

“I know, I know. I don’t know why it bothered me that bad.” You knew deep down that Vi was it for you, and nothing would pull you two apart.

“No I understand baby. Dream me was a dick. Shame on her for making this beautiful girl in front of me sad.” Vi mumbled to you, half joking and half serious. 

You let out a light chuckle, feeling sleep once again begin to take over.

“I love you, Vi.” You say, dozing back asleep with a slight smile on your face, thoughts finally put to ease by your loving girlfriend.

“I love you too, cupcake.” Vi replied with a smile tugging at her lips, pulling you in close and falling back asleep.

A/N: AHHHHH my first actual post. Okay so this is my first time writing fan fiction, so please give me all the criticism you have and let me know if you like it and if there is anything I can improve on! Hope you enjoy <3

[batfambyval]

okay. So.

Serious Red Robin theory coming.

Tim wasn’t put in the Lazarus Pit. But. That doesn’t mean they didn’t use it on him. The pit’s healing properties have been shown to work in small portions. Like, the healing is proportional to the amount of lw used.

The cave with the pit isn’t exactly a sterile environment. So either the pit was needed or it was an attempt to put Tim off balance, a psychological weapon. Though the White Ghost’s reaction to the assumption seems to dispute that. If the pit’s healing is proportional to the amount used it makes sense that the psychological effects are to, along with the duration of those side effects.

Ra’s had serious reasons to use the pit on Tim, between the additional room for emotional manipulation and Tim’s life threatening injury which wasn’t immediately treated and was in fact exacerbated like, a lot… yeah. Tim lost a lot of blood. He lost was stabbed in the organ that filters blood: meaning all your blood passes through your spleen. He was bleeding out, he should have died, he dragged himself and another person to a car, drove said car back to the city, and got them both up to the penthouse. Recovering from that would take a long time, he shouldn’t have survived at all. But he healed quickly and well, it isn’t an issue, it happened and it was over. I know we as a fandom like to have fun with Tim’s missing spleen and what that means but… canon didn’t and looking back I feel like there was a lot pointing at the pit being used in a much more insidious was, not just in the logistics of Tim’s recovery.

Ra’s was insanely trusting of Tim. Not just in his ability to do what he wanted but in his belief that Tim would ultimately come around to his way of thinking. Now, I can obviously see that Tim was in a very vulnerable position and if Bruce hadn’t actually been alive Ra’s could definitely have succeeded. But it feels like more than that, especially with Tim’s ensuing behavior. A lot of his time with the league is glossed over or seen from Tam’s perspective, but Tim was acting different. It’s easy to attribute this to the objectively terrible situation and the year he’s had, but his behavior isn’t the same as it was at the beginning of the run either. And the difference in behavior fades. As Red Robin Tim is more ruthless and pragmatic, mostly due to necessity. Even stealing from a museum and fighting for it makes him incredibly uncomfortable. He still did it. But he was still acting like Tim, making jokes and doing his best to diffuse the situation and keep everyone alive. After the surgery his focus gets even more single minded. He barely puts up a fight about leading the league. Of course partly for Tam, and he tried to keep killing to a minimum but cmon. He was leading the league of ASSASSINS. There were assassinations happening. People died when he blew all the league bases and he barely registered that beyond thinking that the council of spiders probably made it out, implying part of him knew death was a possibility and he didn’t care. But he didn’t think about the moral implications of that in a way that was very reminiscent of Jason’s selective morality. If he had stopped to think about it he wouldn’t have done it, but he was focused to much on beating Ra’s, on not compromising, that the complexity of the situation didn’t sink in. The obvious effects of his actions, the possible deaths and injuries of anyone inside a league stronghold wasn’t acknowledged while the underlying message sent to his opponent was the only thing he could think about. Just like when Jason attacked Tim at Titans Tower to send a message to Bruce despite his hardline stance against hurting kids.

So. The League did use the pit on Tim, just a little. Maybe two tablespoons in the wound to accelerate recovery and weaken his morals a bit. It would certainly make a lot of sense. And the writer did change when Tim came back to Gotham so it’s entirely possible that it was meant to be touched on later but was discarded.

[silvergyus]

snow day- c.sb

pairing: soobin x reader

summary: soobin joins you for an evening snow tubing, then warms you up with cuddles after

warnings: none! this fic is all-ages! soobin and reader are both very new to this relationship

word count: 1,000+

author's note: this isn't part of my valentine's event, but I couldn't wait to post it

Snowflakes fall around the two of you as you wait in line at the top of the hill, their tiny forms dancing in the bright lights that illuminate the tubing hill through the dark. Soobin stands behind you, waiting for your shared turn to slide down the snow-covered hill. You turn to look at him and see dots of white snowflakes caught in his dark hair where it peeks out from under his beanie. His cheeks are already pink from the cold, though the two of you haven’t even been out here that long.

Finally, the attendant calls you over and you trundle along the snowy path to your lane. She instructs you on how to sit: Soobin in the back, and you in front. You nestle into the space between his long legs and grip the plastic handles. They’re cold, even through your mittens. Soobin’s arms wrap around you and you lean into him, thick jackets padding the space in between so this closeness still feels separate, distant. The both of you are still a little unsure of this closeness, still new to this relationship.

The next thing you know you’re pushed off down the hill, cold wind blowing in your face as you rush down the snow and ice. Soobin screams,a loud, startled sound that the wind whips up and away. The wind bites at your cheeks as your giggle blends with Soobin’s shout. His fear quickly gives way to fun and you can feel his laugh behind you, filling you with warmth.

It’s over too fast and soon you’re crashing against the piles of snow at the bottom of the hill, falling over into a jumble of limbs and laughter. You untangle from one another with the grace of a newborn giraffe, but it isn’t awkward. Soobin’s cheeks are bright pink as he excitedly asks if you can ride again. You smile at him, dusting the snow out of his hair, “of course.” With his head in your hands you can feel butterflies gather in your stomach, wanting him closer. Instead, you gently punch his shoulder, diffusing the situation. “You gotta carry the tube though!” With another triumphant giggle, you race off towards the lift, steps slow and clunky in your heavy boots. Soobin groans behind you as he lugs the heavy rubber ring along.

Again and again you race down the snowhill, wind rushing past as you ride. You lose count of how many times you make the trek up to the top but you don’t stop until your fingers are frozen and your limbs are tired. The small concessions chalet serves steaming hot cocoa in tiny styrofoam cups, but you swear it’s the best cocoa you’ve ever tasted. You stand outside the cramped building, shoulder to shoulder with Soobin as you both nurse your drinks, careful not to burn your tongues, but eager to finally have some warmth.

“Are you feeling any warmer?” You ask him, looking up at him as you do. He hums, nodding in response before he blows the steam away from his cup. He turns to look at you and you feel your heart skip a beat. The bright lights of the hill catch in his dark brown irises, illuminating all the depth and making them sparkle. His expression is soft and full of wanting, and it makes a warmth settle in your stomach. You don’t think before you lean forward and kiss him, lips connecting in a soft crash as you fall against his chest. When you pull away, his eyes are wide like a doe’s as he takes a second to process before his lips curl up, one side then the other, into his signature lopsided smile.

He kisses you again and it’s soft and warm, his hand coming up to cup your face, cold fingers curling in your hair as his warm palm brings you closer to him. He tastes like rich chocolate and whipped cream when your tongue finds his way against his lips. He sighs into you and the world falls away for a moment.

On the ride home, you invite him up to your apartment, claiming the roads are too icy and you’ll be worried if he leaves. You both know it’s a flimsy excuse, that the roads have already been cleared and salted, but he goes along with it.

Inside your apartment, you’re suddenly aware of everything, how it must look in his eyes. The small kitchen feels too small when you’re both in there, too cramped to make another hot drink. Soobin kindly says he’s happy to just sit under a blanket and warm up. And you shyly tell him that all your heavy blankets are on your bed. His cheeks, still tinged pink from the cold, turn a deep red at your suggestion. But still, he nods, and follows you to the single bedroom.

You peel off snow-damp clothes layer by layer until you're both in dry t-shirts and underwear. Soobin’s eyes roam up your thighs, stopping where the hem of the old band tee rests against your skin. You pretend not to notice as you crawl into bed, nearly vibrating with excitement. The mattress dips as Soobin cautiously joins you under the layers of plush comforters and homemade quilts. He lays as close as he can to the edge of the bed, nervous to overstep the boundaries of your blossoming relationship.

But the bed isn’t big enough for two people to lay without touching, especially when the space inbetween is the warmest part of all. You roll so your body faces Soobin’s, tugging the blankets to your chin as you do. He lays flat on his back, but turns his face towards yours. The streetlight outside barely illuminates the room through your curtains, but you can just make out his features. Your voice is small when you speak, whispering to him through the dark. “I’m cold.”

He turns so that his body mirrors yours, facing you fully now. “I’m cold too.”

“Do you think,” you begin, shifting closer to the center of the bed, “we’d be warmer if we were closer together?”

He hums in agreement, following you to the center. You are centimeters from touching, the space in between almost imperceptible. “Like this?”

You tuck your face into the space below his, nestling into him. “I think more like this.” He’s still for a moment, adjusting to this new level of intimacy, before his arms find their way around you, holding you close.

“I like this way.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before you both drift off to sleep.

author’s note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

taglist:@lunesdesire, @notyourjaem, @https-yeonjun, @miupow, @mapofthemazeinthemirror, @ohhdet

[itsnesss]

May I request a Zara Malik x Fem reader where they are both secretly dating but Zara gets jealous when the reader gets hit on plz🙏 +18

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐬 | zara malik × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, explicit content, secret relationship, jealousy, oral sex (reader!receives), semi-public

word count | 2.5 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You stay focused, breathing deeply as you repeat the patterns your sensei taught you last week. Sweat drips down your forehead, but you ignore it; you love this feeling of control, of strength.

However, even in the midst of concentration, you are aware of Zara Malik. Her melodic laughter resonates from the other side of the mat, surrounded by her usual followers who never miss a chance to praise her impeccable style and commanding presence. Most people don’t see beyond her arrogant façade, but you know better. You’ve seen a different side of Zara, a side she keeps just for you.

For some time now, Zara and you have been secretly seeing each other. Furtive glances and clandestine meetings in out-of-the-way cafés have become your routine. You both know revealing the truth would be risky—not just for Zara’s reputation, but also for the complications that gossip would bring.

But today, something feels different. Her attention isn’t on her followers or her own training. Her dark eyes follow you wherever you move, evaluating your motions with an intensity that makes your cheeks burn.

You try to concentrate on sparring with your partner, another student in the dojo who clearly isn’t holding back. You block a punch and return one with precision, but when an unexpected turn catches you off guard, you fail to dodge in time. His fist lands against your side, making you stumble back with a groan.

Before you can fully recover, the dojo falls into a tense silence. The air feels heavy, charged with something indescribable. You glance toward Zara, who approaches with long, determined strides, her face hardened with an expression that leaves no doubt: she’s furious.

"Stop!" she commands, her voice sharp like a blade. Her gaze burns into your sparring partner, who steps back with his hands raised in apology.

"It’s not a big deal, I’m fine," you say quickly, trying to diffuse the situation.

But Zara isn’t listening. Her attention is fixed on the guy.

"Do you think it’s fun to hit her like that?" she snaps, her tone icy but dripping with venom. "Because if you’re looking for a real fight, I’m more than willing to give you one."

The guy blinks, visibly confused, but Zara has already crossed the line of patience.

"Zara, stop!" you insist, placing a hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her down. You feel the tension in her rigid muscles under your fingers, but she doesn’t pull away.

"I can’t stand someone touching you like that," she says, her voice lower now but just as resolute. This time, her words are meant only for you.

The rest of the dojo slowly returns to their activities, though you can sense the furtive glances of some of your peers. Zara has always been a magnetic figure, and her outburst of jealousy only adds fuel to the mystery surrounding her.

When you finally manage to lead her to the resting area, she crosses her arms, still visibly upset.

"Are you jealous?" you ask softly, half-joking, though your heart races at the possibility of her answer.

"Of course not," she replies quickly, but the blush on her cheeks betrays her. She looks at you with that mix of defiance and vulnerability that always leaves you breathless. "I just hate seeing you get hurt."

"It was just a hit, Zara. I can handle it."

"That doesn’t mean I have to like watching it," she murmurs, her voice finally softening.

You smile and step closer, lowering your voice so no one else can hear.

"I like that you care about me, but you have to trust that I can take care of myself. I’m not as fragile as you think."

Her eyes hold yours with intensity, and for a moment, she seems torn between maintaining her tough façade or letting you see the softer side she usually keeps hidden.

Zara takes your hand, leading you decisively toward the locker room. You don’t say anything, simply following her steps and noticing the tension still vibrating in the air between you. Once inside, she closes the door behind both of you with a soft thud, the sound echoing off the tiled walls.

Her dark eyes lock onto yours as she examines you carefully.

"Let me see that bruise," she orders, her tone firm but laced with concern.

"Zara, I’m fine..." you protest gently, but she cuts you off with a look that leaves no room for argument.

"Please," she adds, softer this time, as if the word costs her effort.

You sigh and lift the hem of your gi high enough to expose your side. The skin shows a faint reddish mark, nothing serious, but enough to make her frown. Her fingers touch the tender area gently, the contrast between her firm touch and the coldness of her hands sending a shiver through you.

"It’s not that bad, I promise," you insist, trying to ease her concern.

Zara doesn’t respond immediately. Her fingers trace an invisible line over your skin, and when she finally speaks, her voice is lower, almost a whisper.

"I can’t stand the thought of anyone hurting you."

The heat in her gaze mixes with an intensity that makes the air in the room feel heavier. You feel the atmosphere between you shift, becoming charged.

"Zara..." you begin, but the words get caught in your throat when she steps closer, closing the small distance that remained between you.

Her hand slides slowly up your side until it rests on your waist. Her eyes search yours, asking for permission to go further. You barely nod, and that’s all she needs. Her lips find yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, a contrast that leaves you breathless.

The cold tiles and the warmth of her body create a strange but intoxicating balance. You let yourself get lost in the moment, your hands finding their place at the nape of her neck as the kiss deepens.

Zara’s hands move to your hips, pulling you closer. Her usual dominance is tempered by a rare vulnerability, and you know this moment is both a challenge and a declaration of her feelings. When her lips leave yours to trace a slow path along your jawline, a soft sigh escapes you before you can stop it.

His teeth nibble on your earlobe before he whispers.

"I feel like no one has ever touched you like this. I feel like you are mine".

Your body reacts with an intense feeling of need. You don't need words to understand what you want. You pull the ribbon holding her top, and when it falls to the ground, you stop to admire the perfect curve of her breasts.

"Undress me," you whisper, the command coming out with more authority than you'd like to admit.

She obeys without hesitation. The dojo clothes pile up on the floor, and you open yourself to her nudity with a new sense of ownership.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, his eyes shining with curiosity and need.

You know what you desire. You have imagined it many times, the way you want to make it yours. But you're afraid. How will he feel? How will he respond?

"Do you want to make love to me?" he says with a confidence that takes you by surprise. And yet, your body reacts without you being able to control it. The words are there, waiting to come out.

"Yes" you finally admit." The need you feel erupts in your gut, and you can't help but move towards it.

Your fingers caress her, tracing the curve of her breasts before descending down her abdomen. Her skin is soft under your fingers as you move up her inner thigh to reach her sex. When your fingers slip between her legs, a whisper escapes her lips.

The feeling is as new as it is exciting. You have imagined the moment so many times, but feeling it is real is something else. Your fingers caress her clitoris gently, learning the movements that make her breathe faster.

"This isn't fair," he says softly. You know what it means without needing to explain further.

As you move away a little, Zara kneels down and starts to pull down your pants and panties. Her fingers stop on the soft skin of your inner thigh, and you can feel the heat of her fingers through the damp cotton.

"I'm ready for you," you murmur. You are, you know it. You've been doing it for a long time, you just need to take the step and trust her.

His lips rest on the curve of your hip, tracing a slow line downward. His fingers part your thighs and position themselves just behind your knees, lifting them towards your chest and leaving you exposed. You feel vulnerable, but there is no fear in you, only need and trust in what he will do.

Zara stops to look at you for a moment, as if taking the time to admire you before taking the next step. And when she finally approaches, your thighs tense in anticipation.

The first lick is gentle, slow, but with a contained need. His mouth travels over your sex with precision and skill, and you have to bite your lip to avoid making noise. His fingers continue exploring your body, sliding down your thighs towards your breasts, while his tongue follows its path.

"God!" you sigh involuntarily. You didn't expect it to be this intense.

Her response is a fiery look and a new increase in the speed of her licks. The world around you becomes blurry, and everything boils down to her and her skills.

His fingers seek your sex, merging their movements with those of his tongue.

The growing pressure is unbearable, and your body tenses when you reach the climax. The orgasm takes you by force, and you can only clench your teeth to avoid screaming with pleasure.

When the orgasm ends and you can breathe again, Zara sits on your lap and places her hand behind your head to pull you closer. Your tongue seeks hers with need, savoring the sweetness of your own pleasure on her lips.

"I love you," you say between kisses. You can't hold it in any longer. You know it, it's been this way forever.

Zara steps aside a bit to be able to see your eyes.

"And I to you" he whispers, his fingers running through your hair in a gentle caress. "That will never change, my love".

"We can't stay here forever" you remind him gently.

Zara exhales with a crooked smile, still with the glimmer of passion in her eyes.

"I suppose we should go back before someone suspects something".

"It would be the most sensible thing to do," you agree, although neither of you seems ready to move just yet.

Finally, Zara takes a step back, although her fingers still brush against yours, as if she didn't want to completely break the connection.

"This isn't over yet," he whispers to you before opening the door. Tonight, at my place.

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

horny, sulky, kinda mean, kinda roughhousing könig thought bc it's my birthday, it's 2:50am, i have been horny like a fuckin werewolf for like a week now. f!reader ig for talk about pussy.

So our man König doesn’t keep normal hours—not that you do, but dude is two days back from KorTac and pretty much strung out on the “fun” amphetamines KorTac req officers pass out like candy if you even wave smth that looks like a form at them. So kind of out of the worst of it, exhausted, but wired and feeling kind of shitty and toothy and wound up.

He wants to fuck. Easiest way to diffuse, decompress, and he’s hard as shit by the time he lumbers his way into bed with you—over you—all around you. You were reading off your kindle, not anymore. He plucks that shit right out of your hand and puts it behind him, tangling those long, heavy limbs around you like a boa constrictor.

“Was wondering when this was going to happen,” you say, hissing when he’s none to kind in nipping the skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso, pushing your breasts up under your t-shirt. “Shit, you’re moody,” it’s half a laugh, and a grapple at not immediately just folding and giving into him. You like to bite, too.

“Give me your mouth,” he grunts, nose pushed into the spot behind your ear. He’s pushing down your underwear, singlemindedly stripping you down. His words make your skin humid, “Gonna play with your pussy, want you fucking wet for me.”

You give that little bit, turning your head over your shoulder, smirking into a kiss that drives deliriously deep as soon as contact is made. König isn’t a prim kisser, but a primal one. It’s not a clean act; sloppy, yes, and somehow tinged with something kin to restrained violence. Challenge? Dick swinging? Maybe something more biblical in nature—gluttony, or greed.

He’s a fearsome thing, and he may only be beautiful to you. A needful thing, too, twisting nest of starved serpents—6 feet 10 inches and pushing-300-lbs of fucking muscle, battering-ram-body housing more than thirty years of neglect-crushed memory out for retribution.

But you never were a target. He didn’t have a choice in that matter. You both know good and goddamned well that you picked him. Everything he gets away with is at your allowance, and good fucking Christ, he loves you for it.

His cock throbs against your bare ass through his boxers as his arm wraps around you, craning his hand to pump two big fingers into your sopping cunt, angling his wrist so he can press and rub your clit with his thumb.

Man’s got his perversions, and he’s the most physical person you’ve ever met in your life. He’s had a fraction of the sex he’s fantasized about, but you’ve covered hectares of that ground since you’ve gotten together. He’s a quick study, and his mind’s a nightmare of steel trap memory. He never forgets what you like.

Two fingers turn to three, and he almost pushes it to four—assured torture, too much stretch too fast—before you snap a hand around his wrist and buck hard back against him, seething his name in warning. “Don’t fucking dare.”

“Ja. Ja, Schatzi,” he mumbles, breathing hard and too collected. You’re both sweating already, and the bed feels too damn warm, but neither of you shift. The spooning position is perfect as-is, only needs acted upon. In the mean time, he draws his slicked fingers up, leaving them in the air before your mouth in question. He groans and shudders harshly when you take the digits into your mouth, almost laughing at the ever-fresh amusement of your own taste. Salt and cold coins, your own metallic tang a complement to the one on his skin. His voice shakes as he warns, “Time, now. It’s time, bitte, aw, fuck.”

Just like that, he sinks right into you, to the base, balls pressed tight against your lips due to your body’s contortioning to meld against his form. An ungodly moan bellows out of his throat, rattling from his chest into yours, arms tightening around you. You meet the fuck-weird noises, turning your head to keen into your pillows and pressing back against him. Your hand anchors behind you on his hip, as if pinning him in place, affixing your bodies together.

You both hang in a moment of suspension, hearts pounding, minds blank, stomachs rising as if careening over a hill with momentum not sparing you a moments reprieve.

When that finally snaps, you have to force him to focus, to fuck, and he’s slow about it, grinding into you as your cunt sucks him deeper.

That huge hand you know so well drops between your legs, right back to toying with you. Oh it doesn’t take long to get you off, bent in half on your side, holding onto him and gasping as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure.

He’s not subtle to signal when it’s his turn. He pulls you back up and clamps his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard through the fabric of your shirt, fucking you rough, now, and unheeding, like an animal in heat. When he finally finishes, spasming and jolting all over now that his balls have been emptied into you, he leaves his heavy arm over your waist, keeping you close. “Good shit,” he mumbles, throat sticking to itself it’s so dry as he pants, parched, “we split a smoke?”

You’re not much better, even though you’ve bravado to fucking spare. “I smoke. You go the hell to sleep now,” you try to sound stern and dismissive, but there’s a laugh in your tone some place. And fondness, undeniably. You feel his grin against your neck, his body purring mhm in question. “Feel better?” you ask, at length, stroking the hair on his forearms.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, weak and sweet with relief, “can sleep now.” A pause, you can hear him thinking. “Won’t, though. Because you were an asshole and had to bring it up first.” His laugh wheezes, low and susurring.

[poisonpercy]

Ok just finished the 3rd episode of the show. From a completely outside perspective without comparing it to the books, it’s a fine episode. The writing does fall flat imo, and it doesn’t keep my attention. It’s also still very hard to see what’s happening when it’s supposed to be dark. When will Hollywood let dark scenes be visible again?

Ok, now for more specific thoughts:

The scene with the Oracle sucked in my opinion. Idk it just seemed so much more grander in the book. The scene in the show lacked the mystic and off putting nature of the Oracle, so it kinda just didn’t work for me. I did like that they remembered that Gabe was the voice of the Oracle in tlt, so that was nice

How Percy chooses his quest mates in the show is different in the show than in the books. This isn’t a bad thing, but I do miss Annabeth volunteering herself to be Percy’s 3rd quest mate like she does in the books. Idk I just think it really showed her eagerness to prove herself and get a quest. The show scene doesn’t do that, but I’m not mad at the change

The interaction between Grover and Percy when Percy tells Grover he was chosen to go on the quest was so cute. I love those 2 boys. Besties for life

Percy telling Luke that he thinks the drachmas are from Chuck E. Cheese was hilarious

With Luke in mind, I love how manipulative he is. Like he is so nice, but it’s because he has ulterior motives. I do like that his manipulation is not overt, so you don’t know that he’s the one that ultimately betrays Percy

I personally didn’t find the “she met a pine cone’s fate” line that Percy said funny. It honestly came off kind of rude. It’s definitely something that Percy would say in ttc when Thalia and him are beefing, but not when he finds out about her death. Percy is supposed to be kind and empathetic, and he shows so much sympathy for Thalia and her fate when he hears her story in the book. Idk just felt like that line was ooc during this moment in time

Grover’s song was so cute and funny, it had me cracking up fr

Percy trying to get all of them to vote throughout the episode is hilarious. My boy just wants to have a say in things

Annabeth grabbing all that candy was perfect. It really shows she’s just a 12 year old girl that didn’t get to experience the joys of childhood (also, I feel like overall that the show is forgetting that Annabeth is not a stoic character. Like she very much acts her age. I hope the writers let Annabeth have more personality in later episodes)

I miss the book fight sequence with the furies on the bus. It was so chaotic and there was so much tension. Percy steering the bus and crashing it and the bus exploding was perfect, and I’m sad that they got rid of that in the show. The fight scene in the show was just so underwhelming. I feel like those should be the knock out moments of the episodes but they breeze past them so fast and give no tension. It just falls flat (curse you Mickey Mouse!! I know it’s your fault!)

I do appreciate that Grover keeps trying to diffuse the fights between Annabeth and Percy. They are both his friends, and he can see why they keep butting heads. If only the 2 would listen to him

I do miss how the trio finds Auntie Em’s in the book. Like Annabeth and Percy were dumbass 1 and 2 that followed their stomachs while Grover freaked the fuck out. That was so fun. The show had Grover find and follow the smell instead which is fine, but the og scene was better imo

That being said, they guessed that it was Medusa way too quickly in the show. I like the mystery of Auntie Em’s identity in the book better tbh

“I definitely trust my mom” <- Percy exceeds the momma’s boy standards

I don’t mind the change to Medusa’s character. I actually really enjoyed her (the actresses voice is so gorgeous and calming). I like how she’s like “we’re not our parents until we choose to be them.” It really sets up the ultimate direction of the series imo

Regarding the fight scene with Medusa, it sucked. To begin with, you can hardly see what’s happening bc it’s so dark. Also there was no tension or chaos. It kind of just happened? I also didn’t like that Medusa was killed when Annabeth’s cap was on her. I know it’s because Disney probably thought the death would have been too graphic or whatever, but I would have liked to see what happened

It was cool that Percy used Medusa’s head to kill Alecto

I felt so many emotions when Grover said “He’s not like the others. He doesn’t look afraid” about his Uncle Ferdinand

The beginnings of Percy’s and Annabeth’s friendship is so good. Annabeth not taking the deal with Alecto to give Percy over and killing her sister. Percy not taking Medusa’s offer to get rid of Annabeth and Grover so he can save his mother. It’s perfect. They’re going to become each other’s chosen person and they don’t even know it yet

LMM as Hermes jump scare. Still not a fan of the Hermes casting

Anyways, overall the show just isn’t working for me. I do appreciate Walker, Leah, and Aryan because they are perfect. They are honestly doing such a great job! The writers, however, are not. I’m trying so hard to think of this show as its own entity so I can enjoy it more, but I haven’t been able to so far. Despite that, I am excited to see where the show ends up going (even if I end up not liking it)

[emma23]

Headcanon y/n at a concert with Oscar Isaac characters:

————————————————————————

Steven Grant

- Steven’s both nervous and excited. He’s done his research on the band, reading up on their history and even memorizing some lyrics beforehand.

- He’s the one reminding everyone to bring earplugs ("You don’t want to damage your hearing, do you?").

- At the concert, he’s a bit overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd but can’t stop smiling whenever Y/N seems to be enjoying herself.

- “This is brilliant, innit? Look at the energy!” he says, swaying awkwardly to the beat.

Marc Spector

- Marc acts like he’s too cool for the concert but secretly enjoys it. He hangs back near the bar with his arms crossed, scanning the room like a bodyguard.

- He’s hyper-aware of the group’s safety, subtly moving people away from Y/N if the crowd gets too pushy.

- Occasionally, he catches himself nodding to the music and quickly stops when someone (probably Jake) teases him.

- “I’m not dancing—I’m just...stretching my neck,” he mutters, defensive.

Jake Lockley

- Jake is the one who drives everyone to the venue in a car that’s probably not entirely legal.

- He’s loud and hyped, yelling at random people in the crowd to "make way" for Y/N and the group.

- By the time the music starts, he’s already two beers deep and is shouting lyrics (wrong ones) at the top of his lungs.

- “This band? Not bad. But I could sing it better,” he says with a cocky grin.

Poe Dameron

- Poe is the life of the party. He’s dressed like he belongs on stage, with his leather jacket and confident swagger.

- He’s the first to start dancing and tries to drag Y/N into the action. "Come on, Y/N! We’re not here to stand around!”

- He also flirts shamelessly with everyone, including the bartender, the merch seller, and maybe even the security guard.

- “This band is almost as good as me in a cockpit,” he jokes, winking at Y/N.

Jonathan Levy

- Jonathan isn’t thrilled about the whole idea but comes along because Y/N asked.

- He’s the one awkwardly sipping a drink and checking his phone, making occasional sarcastic comments.

- “Is it just me, or do all these songs sound exactly the same?” he asks, smirking.

- Despite himself, he starts to enjoy the show when he sees Y/N laughing and having fun.

Llewyn Davis

- Llewyn is the snob of the group. He complains about the band’s lack of authenticity and makes snide remarks about the music.

- “This isn’t music; it’s noise,” he grumbles, though his foot taps along to the beat anyway.

- If there’s an acoustic set, he leans in and listens intently, muttering, “Finally, something decent.”

- He spends half the concert comparing himself to the performers and saying, “I could do better.”

Nathan Bateman

- Nathan shows up late, probably because he was busy working on some cryptic project. He doesn’t even pretend to care about the music.

- “This is all just vibrations and patterns,” he says, sipping a drink and smirking.

- He’s the one who suggests sneaking backstage, purely to see if he can. "Come on, Y/N. Live a little."

- Somehow, he gets into a heated debate with a random stranger about the physics of sound.

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

- Pope is chill but clearly here to keep the group in line. He’s the one who makes sure no one loses their ticket or gets kicked out.

- He enjoys the music quietly, nodding along and occasionally leaning over to ask Y/N if she’s having a good time.

- When things get rowdy, he steps in to diffuse the situation—probably pulling Jake away from an argument.

- “It’s not bad. Not my thing, but it’s fun,” he says with a shrug, flashing Y/N a small smile.

[just-a-girl-who-loves-tmr]

Head canons

Post death-cure, safe haven

Thomas, Newt, Newtmas

I warn you this post is very long so welcome to he inner workings of my brain and 3am

Thomas

- ADHD!! You can’t tell me I’m wrong (this is kinda canon but it’s never actually mentioned) Will hyper fixate on things and neglect his well being

- His eyes are hazel, but they go green in sunlight with a lil bit of gold- that’s why newt’s favourite colour is green because its Tommy’s eye colour in sunlight but he won’t admit it he just says it’s a nice colour

- The type of person who does puzzles for fun. Again he will hyper fixate on a puzzle or task and won’t rest until he’s finished (unless Newt drags him to bed which he has done many times)

- Wakes up at 5am to go on runs with Minho. Minho wakes him up because Thomas gets made if he doesn’t and feels unproductive

- Cold showers all the time- unless he’s showering with Newt, then they compromise because Newt likes hot showers

- Either he’s extremely smart or extremely stupid. There is no in between. He could be going on about diffusion and the movement of particles between galaxies but then he doesn’t know how to tie his own shoe lace without making a huge knot he can never undo.

- He has extreme survivors guilt from everything happened to the point where he has panic attacks because of it. He always feels so guilty for helping WICKED, which of course no one blames him for but he always feels like he betrayed them and on the worst days he feels like he deserved to die for helping them hurt his friends.

Newt

- my baby has separation anxiety (I’m sorry!!) he constantly needs reassurance that the others still like him and especially from Thomas after they get together (which happens I will not be told otherwise) that Thomas still loves him and isn’t going to leave him

- This is also because some of the other treat him differently after he was cured- sometimes treating him like he’s fragile and delicate which Newt hates- he fears that the others don’t trust him and feels like he’s not cured and he’s going to snap and hurt them

- Being sick is also a huge trigger for him- he has a weaker immune system than the others due to the fact that he isn’t immune like they are so he gets sick a lot more often- even if its just a cold he gets super on edge, constantly checking his arms and pulse to make sure he’s still himself

- Thomas is always a help during these periods when Newt is anxious and sick, reminding Newt that he’s cured and that he won’t leave him alone. He makes Newt tea and gives him loads of attention- which Newt doesn’t love at first because he’s independent and thinks he can do it himself until Thomas puts him arms around him and kisses him softly and tells him that he loves him, then Newt just melts

- Convinced he has an acoustic guitar because my sister mentioned to me once that he would suit it and I cannot get the idea out my head. He would play it super well and use it to take his mind off things when his brain gets hectic. He doesn’t like playing in front of people because he gets kinda self conscious when everyone’s looking at him but he plays for Thomas when they’re alone and Thomas can’t take his eyes off him because he looks so beautiful.

- He still writes a lot, journaling, poetry, little stories he makes up. It’s kind of like a therapy thing for him when he gets stressed out and he doesn’t want to talk about it he just writes it down. He occasionally lets Thomas read snippets of his poetry and writing and Thomas loves it. Also loves reading so he and Thomas read together until Thomas gets bored and lays on Newt’s chest while Newt reads to him and plays with him hair

Newtmas

- Nicknames>>> Newt calls Thomas things like Tommy, Love, Darling etc. Thomas calls Newt things like Babe, Baby, angel etc.

- They both get anxious about the other one overworking, Thomas gets worried about Newt’s leg because Newt insists on working a lot to make up for the time he couldn’t work while he was recovering. Thomas knows Newt is okay and that he is independent and capable of doing it himself but he still makes sure Newt takes breaks and massages it for him to take the pain away. Newt gets nervous that Thomas is running too much and not eating enough because Thomas feels like he’s obligated to do it and he needs to do his part, but Newt in turn, makes him take breaks and makes sure he’s eating enough etc

- They are so touch starved when they get to the safe haven they are practically hanging off each other, constantly touching in some way. They’re walking? They’re holding hands. They’re sitting? They are pressed against each other’s side if not on the other’s lap. They’re sleeping? They’re cuddling. It’s little things as first just as they’re getting used to being able to touch each other affectionately whenever they want to but they get comfortable very quickly because they are so familiar with each other.

- To everyone else , Thomas is always the talker and Newt is the listener. Thomas always has something to talk about, literally anything on his mind he yap about to Newt and Newt listens because he loves listening to Thomas babbling about this and that. Everyone else agrees that Newt is the quiet one but god forbid when they’re alone Newt does not shut up. He doesn’t talk as much in large groups but as soon as it’s just him and Thomas he talks and talks about anything and everything that he’s been keeping to himself all day. He gets kind of embarrassed about it when he realises how much he’s said but Thomas loves listening to him talk especially when it’s something he’s passionate about.

- Newt’s limp okay. Newt is very independent and hates the idea that he needs help to get around or that he needs to rely on other people’s support but Thomas always talks him down when Newt’s leg is sore. He protests at first but all Thomas has to do is look at him with his big brown eyes and place a gently hand on Newt’s thigh and Newt gives in. Thomas makes sure Newt rests his leg, carrying him everywhere just to hear Newt whine that he can do it himself but still cling to him, burying his face into the brunet’s hair.

- Thomas has also perfected to making of tea and prides himself in making to tea every time he’s sad or in pain. He always gives the cup a kiss first, he did as a joke first claiming that it tastes better when it’s made with love but now it’s a must do and Newt complains that it doesn’t taste the same if Thomas doesn’t give it a kiss first

Thank you for listening to me yap <3 I’m thinking of doing Ivy trio + Minho separately headcanons so let me know what you think

Ily guys <33

[the-most-humble-blog]

What Did You Just Say? How ‘What?’ Became the Verbal Middle Finger

Tone, Timing, and Why Your Innocent ‘What?’ Sounds Like a Threat

Once upon a time, the word "what" was just a neutral, functional question. Something you’d say when you didn’t hear someone or needed clarification. But somewhere along the way, “What?” became less about understanding and more about making someone else feel like they’ve said the dumbest thing on the planet.

These days, a simple “What?” can sound like you’re ready to throw hands. Add a bit of tone, and it’s less of a question and more of a full-blown insult. Let’s unpack how we turned the most basic phrase into verbal warfare.

1. The Evolution of ‘What?’: From Clarification to Confrontation

At its core, “What?” is supposed to be harmless. But let’s be real—it hasn’t been harmless in years.

The Side-Eye What: Paired with a look that could cut glass, this isn’t a request for clarification—it’s a challenge.

The Long-Distance What: Shouted from another room, it’s a declaration of “I can’t be bothered to come hear you, but I’ll yell until you repeat yourself.”

The Aggro What: When someone says something so outrageous, your “What?” carries the weight of “Are you kidding me right now?”

Just a Thought: "‘What?’ isn’t just a word anymore—it’s a mood, a vibe, and occasionally the opportunity to make a co-worker hate your face."

2. Why Tone is Everything

Say “What?” in the wrong tone, and suddenly you’re in a verbal standoff.

Flat Tone: Confused but polite.

Rising Tone: Genuinely didn’t hear you.

Descending Tone: "Explain yourself, clown."

Rising-Then-Flat Tone: This is the “Are you actually serious?” masterpiece. It’s less about misunderstanding and more about making someone else feel like an idiot.

3. ‘I’m Sorry’: The New Aggression Cloaked in Politeness

If “What?” is the verbal slap, “I’m sorry” is the passive-aggressive grenade. Depending on context, it can go from innocent to devastating in three words:

Innocent: “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Polite Confrontation: “I’m sorry… what did you just say?”

Passive Aggressive: "I'm Sorry...?!"

Weaponized: “I’m sorry, do you hear yourself?”

Relatable Truth: “I’m sorry” isn’t always an apology—it’s a prelude to telling someone they’re dumb.

4. How Conversations Became Landmines

We live in a world where tone, timing, and delivery matter more than the words themselves. And if you’re not careful, your casual “What?” can turn into:

A fight over who’s being disrespectful.

A passive-aggressive back-and-forth that goes nowhere.

A one-way ticket to awkward silence.

Pro Tip: If your ‘What?’ comes with any eye-roll energy, be ready to defend your entire existence.

5. The Real Problem: People Are Just Tired

Let’s be honest—half the aggression behind phrases like “What?” or “I’m sorry” isn’t personal. People are overworked, overtired, and over the nonsense.

Miscommunication is often less about what was said and more about who’s running on caffeine and a granola bar.

Your ‘What?’ hit them the wrong way because they were already one bad moment away from losing it on the next overachiever.

6. How to Avoid Accidentally Starting a Fight

If you don’t want your innocent phrases to come off as accidental verbal grenades, try this:

Tone-Check: Speak like you’re clarifying, not challenging.

Add Context: Replace “What?” with “Sorry, I missed that—could you repeat it?” (Yes, it’s more words, but it’ll save your sanity.)

Drop the Ego: Sometimes, the other person is just sensitive. Let them have it.

Or, just embrace the chaos. If your “What?” ruins someone’s day, maybe they needed a wake-up call anyway. F--k it.

It’s Not Just You—Words Are Loaded Now

In the age of overthinking and endless communication, even the simplest words can feel like punches. But here’s the good news: recognizing the power of tone, timing, and context means you can either diffuse or ignite situations at will. So, use your ‘What?’ wisely—or don’t. Sometimes chaos is fun.

[444you]

ways i maintain a cozy life 🦋

i hope you guys can find something in this post that could be helpful(:

heating blankets

provides me so much comfort & warmth. i have it on the entire day 😭 either on low or high, no inbetween

music

i personalized made my own playlist, i put the most whimsical and feminine music i could find. i recommend to listening to comforting songs as well, but not the ones that make you feel a bit sad

baking

always at my happiest when i bake

comfort shows

the shows i tend to watch are pretty little liars, girlfriends, desperate housewives, gossip girl, the vampire diaries, bad girls club, sex and the city

however sometimes the drama can get to me, if it’s too much. i forget i’m not in the show sometimes. for those moments, i’ll put shows like h2o, the summer i turned pretty, barbie life in the dreamhouse, and new girl on.

showers before sleep

i feel so relaxed in water. this includes swimming, showers, beach, pools, and etc. it provides me a great amount of comfort and sleepiness. this helps me sleep better than usual

taco bell

isn’t always the healthiest but if i need some comfort or i’m just feel down, i’ll get a cravings box from taco bell

visuals

put things in ur room that make you feel at peace especially if you’re a homebody. this is important if you spend most of your time in your room. for me, i always loved baking as i previously mentioned. so i’d get a diffuser with gourmet scents. fairy lights as well. cheetah print blankets.

rain

whenever it rains i’ll sit on the patio, put my headphones on and listen to music to recharge.

nostalgia apps

i tend to lead to games or apps that give me nostalgia. this includes wattpad, tumblr, moviestarplanet, purple place (they got in the app store 🫶🏾) , roblox, or episode. 

public places

when it comes to going to the grocery store, mall, or coffee shop. i’ll go alone especially because i spend my time in my room. when the noise is too much, i’ll put my shows or music on. however, i try to go on a movie date with my friend atleast once or twice a month.

reminders

i’m a very optimistic person but i’m also very sensitive. when i encounter negative people or situations, i tend to get discouraged easily. i solve that by watching “hopecore” or “humans are cute” videos on tiktok. i always try not to feed into my sadness by looking at videos about being mistreated or an ex. i search for videos that talk about having a big heart is a gift. how the right one will come to me. honestly for any situation you’re in.

just dance

y’all don’t come for me. just dance is my holy grail. it’s fun and its my way of doing “cardio”

naps

i try to nap after work or classes before i tend to get low energy. i don’t nap more than 2 hours, that way i feel more refreshed instead of drained.

[koolades-world]

this is most definitely a side blog post but I need to tell other people my cool new funfact!

when protons are diffusing down their concentration gradient through ATP synthase, it spins!!!! the synthase spins!! like a merry go round!!!! I can’t believe inside all of us the guy that makes our energy is spinning while doing it! it makes me so happy to know this isn’t this so cool???? I want to be an atp synthase now

been hard at work studying for my test tomorrow and I came across that gem of a fact. expect a post tomorrow :) either Satan’s bday post or a fun little drabble I’ve been working on!

[yanderecrazysie]

A request for HCs

What do you think would happen if the Karasuno boys know that reader has like a childish crush on the adults in the court? Like she finds Takeda-sensie to be cute and adorkable or coach Ukai to be cool?

They're not stupid tho, they know that crush isn't gonna go anywhere. But her constant fangirling of either one of them behind doors sometimes gets to them, maybe even plant the idea to she's into older men. And they're unfortunately either a year below them or around her age (maybe she's even a few months older than them). Major blow if she's their close friend who often comes to watch them, and she keeps talking about their teacher/coach crush to them.

Ooooh fun! And I must say, she’s got good taste in adorkable Takeda.

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, mentions of murder, reader is into older men

♡ You’re a fan and part of the cheerleading squad, always coming to the games (big or small), so the team sees you often. Sometimes you even come to practice, just to talk to them and cheer them on.

♡ One by one, all of the Karasuno volleyball players fell for you, despite knowing that you don’t see them as anything more than good players and maybe friends.

♡ Still, it comes as a serious blow to hear that you’ve got a childish crush on Takeda and Ukai. And they hear it straight from the horse’s mouth.

♡ You wax lyrical about how cool Ukai is, with his dyed hair and the piercings he sometimes wears outside of coaching. You practically squeal over the adorable, awkward Takeda.

♡ It hurts even more that you don’t say anything like that to them. Sure, you’ve complimented their volleyball skills, but you’ve never complimented their looks or personalities.

♡ Tsukishima’s the first one to figure out that you might have a thing for older men. That’s a real problem for all of them because, not only are you a third year, but your birthday is even earlier than Daichi’s, Asahi’s, and Sugawara’s.

♡ Daichi is the cool, calm, and collected captain, but even he struggles to come up with a plan. There’s no way they could do something stupid like kill their coach and teacher- besides, Hinata and Asahi could never stomach it.

♡ Tanaka and Nishinoya are the most jealous, vying desperately for your attention but not receiving nearly enough whenever the “cool coach” and “cute teacher” are nearby. And they’re never far away.

♡ Sugawara’s the first one to suggest kidnapping you, but there’s a fight that breaks out over where they would keep you.

♡ Since Daichi’s the captain, they reluctantly agree that he would keep you in his house and the rest would just visit. 

♡ They act normally for weeks, gritting their teeth every time you say something like “Isn’t Takeda so adorable?” or “Coach Ukai’s looking hot today!”

♡ Kageyama nearly loses his cool when you confide in him that you desperately wish that one of the two older men would pay you more attention. Sugawara manages to diffuse the situation before Kageyama yells himself hoarse at you.

♡ Hinata’s most excited to kidnap you and Asahi’s the most nervous.

♡ Yamaguchi nearly cries every time you tell him how much you like Ukai and Takeda.

♡ They finally can’t take any more of your obsession with their elders, and they whisk you away.

♡ It’s just too bad if you like older men, because soon enough, you’re surrounded by younger men- and they plan to keep you with them for eternity.