#{🐈‍⬛}

[lobotomydaughter]

ao3 emails are the best emails to receive. bless.

[guillotin3d]

bookworm

[sang-i-fetge]

Something that really amuses me is that who want GoodDad!Bruce reconciling with jason really just want arkham batman.

Who, upon discovering the identity of the guy that orchestrated a violent takeover of (a mostly empty) Gotham, goes "Jason...🥺 I thought u were dead...🥺 we can fix this...together...🥺"

[starberryslush]

no that’s an apostrophe 😭 not an beast.

www.tumblr.com/creepymutelilbugger/756995898765099008?source=share

post here

black spotted tabby bengal

[artlady27]

This is what my lil black cat is doing on this Friday the 13th🐈‍⬛

[gobvo]

Well, well, well if it isn’t our favorite duo of bullies.

This is MY interpretation of their faces. Been meaning to do this for a long time but put it off like many other things. BUT THEN I saw the art book page on Hugo and it kinda motivated me.

Hugo has no right being this hot!

[famousfishathletecookie]

Siesta…:)

[benjingler]

[vampyr3wife]

[rudyreds]

when in doubt, i redraw my old catra art

[porelarte]

edwin payne being perfectly capable of handling this™

[catladychronicles]

[pomefioredove]

May I please have a sugar cookie, order number 15, with sprinkles & chocolate chips?

I'm super excited I came in time for this event, I adore your blog & am excited to see what comes of this.

(Pardon me as I cross my fingers in hoping to get one of my babygirls or just one of my faves)

—🐈‍⬛

you get one of MY babygirls. praise mana-sama for helping me through requests today

order #15, sugar with sprinkles and chocolate chips

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unlike yourself

tropes: hurt/comfort, fake dating characters: rook additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, short and sweet, probably ooc

It's strange, you think.

Rook Hunt, the mysterious, distant vicewarden, loved you more in an evening than anyone else had in months.

Only an act. You had to remind yourself of that, every time he squeezed your hand or pulled you closer to him.

Every time he whispered something silly in your ear, every time he kissed the back of your hand. Only an act.

"I could write a thousand poems of you, mon amour, and never become bored of it,"

At some point, you had stopped looking at the others. You had forgotten they were there altogether.

It's only an act.

It felt like a fairytale, glittering, iridescent and silver, yet one that still ended at midnight in rags and pumpkin seeds.

You didn't want to think about that.

That by sunrise, the event would be over, and you would be back to your life. Back to your drafty dorm and secondhand clothes, back to your cold, lonely mornings. Back to yourself.

Back to the person you so hated.

Rook made you feel something unlike yourself. You were someone beautiful to him, someone interesting, someone loveable, someone worth teaching to dance, no matter how many times you stepped on his toes.

He only smiled.

You had asked him to be your date, to lie with you, to act with you, to prove to everyone that you were that someone, so unlike yourself, that you were beautiful and interesting and loveable, and worthy.

It had been your request. Just two hours, you said, and now you selfishly want more. You want years.

You want to make him feel the way he makes you.

"Your eyes are watering," Rook whispers, holding your face and drying your tears with the gentle touch of his gloved thumbs.

"Why are you sad, mon ange?"

You can't tell him. It's only an act. It's only an act. You want him to stay. He can't. He won't.

You can't ask him to stay.

"You are tired," he says, smiling sweetly, his cupid's bow curving. "Let's get you home, Trickster."

He's right, of course.

And you don't want to leave, you don't want to lose something on the velvet steps of the dorm, but you do, for him.

He walks you back to Ramshackle himself. He tucks you in bed and makes you something warm to eat since you both know the silver-plated hors d'oeuvres weren't enough.

You don't want to close your eyes. But he asks you to sleep, and you do, for him.

And so you wake up in your drafty dorm and your secondhand clothes in a bed that isn't really yours, feeling like yourself again.

But today, on this cold morning, he's sitting with you, and it isn't lonely.

"Oh, Trickster," he whispers, leaning over your, holding your face and gazing at you with something like softness.

"You did not have to ask me to stay. The answer is always yes."

And he kisses, again and again, your lips, your cheeks, your nose and head. He kisses that person, the one in rags, the messy one, the lonely one, you. He kisses you. He wants you.

And you think, perhaps this person, this yourself, isn't so bad.

Rook loves them, after all.

[sang-i-fetge]

If your Jason doesn't believe that what he's doing is righteous then idc about him

[spirk-trek]

s'cat t'boy spock 🐾