#and build more trust in the process

[academyofbrokenhearts]

Instead of Dancing Alone, I Should Be Dancing with You (II)

Kaya and Suna have a talk early in the morning, after their respective conversations with İfakat and Seyran, but prior to the epic Nükhet fake meltdown in 45.

AU scene.

Author note: I NEED THEM TO TALK SO BADLY might as well be my motto as far as KaySun is concerned. A true partnership is based on communication, so this is exactly what I want them to do. The basis for this was already planted in the previous chapter, and now they are starting to build on it.

AO3 link here.

Suna is deep in thought on the terrace, a mug full of cold, untouched coffee in her hands.

It's still quite early in the day, but she somehow managed to have a harsh fight with Seyran already. She had wanted to tell her sister not to worry, that everything was going to be okay, that Kaya was not influenced by İfakat, or anyone else, really, into marrying her. That they had taken a mutually beneficial decision like the adults they were supposed to be regarded as.

But all of it became suddenly too much; Ferit's judgemental attitude from the evening before, after having caught her and Kaya immediately post proposal, her father's unbearable pressure, Seyran's disbelief and her firm opinion that Suna, poor, naive Suna, was somehow manipulated into this, all of it exploding into hurtful words, screams and then silence.

She sighs quietly; she had hoped that Seyran would understand, that she would at least make an effort to, but it doesn't seem like it is in the cards for the time being. And it hurts, because she has always been on Seyran's side, and yet it seems like she is cursed never to receive the same energy in return.

"Even if you frown at that coffee, it's not going to get warm again, you know," she hears Kaya behind her, and turns to him, the corners of her mouth rising up in a small smile.

She hadn't seen him today just yet; her last glimpse of him had been last night, after they turned their back on Ferit and his neverending ramble, and entered the house hand in hand, letting go only when they reached her door. He never even kissed her, but she liked the way his hand squeezed hers before letting go, and the expression on his face when he said good night.

He keeps himself at a respectful distance; not even her father could normally comment on this scene, if he were to stumble upon it, although, Suna suspects, he would probably use it to put even more pressure towards their impending nuptials.

So she dutifully warns him:

"You need to be careful. My father could appear at any moment."

Kaya shrugs and smiles, unbothered.

"We are about to get married, and anyway, I need to speak to you. If he sees us, I can just tell him we were discussing our wedding. I don't think he would raise any objections to that. But forget him," he adds, when Suna tries to protest. "You don't look well, did something happen?"

"Nothing, just..." Suna sighs. "It's just Seyran, you know."

"Ah, let me guess," Kaya says, understanding glimmering in his eyes. "She does not approve."

"She doesn't," Suna confirms, eyes turning far away in the distance, words tumbling down before she can stop herself. "She thinks you've been manipulated into this by İfakat, that you don't want me, that I won't be happy, she told me all of that. Even more, she told me she won't support me as long as I insist marrying you, and I just..."

Her eyes are slowly filling up with tears, and she closes them, breathing in and out, in an effort to stay calm.

"I just... I always supported her, Kaya. Even back then, when I was rejected, and Ferit chose her, even if my life became a living hell since then, I was always at her side. Never asking for anything in return. And now... my father almost kills me in the middle of the street, and you... you are more on my side than my own flesh and blood, and it's just so... I just can't believe it. I would have reassured her, but she is just so quick to judge, and she doesn't even realise how much it hurts, she doesn't understand that I need to be free, to be my own person. Why? Am I asking for too much?"

"You're not," Kaya speaks, his voice full of tenderness, and then she feels him right behind her, his hands squeezing her shoulders gently, reassuringly. "I know. I know what you mean. God, I know it so well. I know it hurts now, but give her time. She will come around."

"And if she never does?" Suna asks, turning to him, her voice broken, sobs choking her breath.

"We will deal with it together when the moment comes," he promises. "No use to worry about that now. Don't cry. I want this to be a good moment for you, and no one is allowed to upset you, as long as I have a say in this."

And there's something about the way he says it, with determination, as if it's the most important thing for him at that very moment, that makes her set aside the mug and stand on her toes to kiss his cheek.

It's very brief, and she's blushing at the end, almost unable to look at him. When she finally does, she sees it: a mix of surprise, but also something that is definitely pleasure, in his eyes, and her heart skips a beat.

"Um, anyway," she begins, trying to act like she's not blushing even more, and like it's not obvious he noticed. "You were saying you wanted to speak to me?"

"Speak to you. Well, yes," he says. "I did."

"Well, then go ahead," she replies, when it becomes obvious he's not that eager to continue. "I hope there's nothing wrong?"

"Not necessarily, but not that pleasant either." He sighs, then goes on: "Mrs İfakat came to my room last night and told me to stop the wedding. I said no, of course," he adds quickly, not giving her time to say anything, "I told her I took a decision and that it was going to happen, and I am not telling you this to upset you. Just... for you to know. So that you can be careful."

Well, Suna thinks, bitterly. It was her fault, probably, for believing that İfakat could have something in her that might have resembled humanity.

At the same time, though, her heart skips another beat, because he is keeping his promise. He has her back, like he said he would. And it's right then and there, with her cheeks still keeping a trace of warmth, in spite of what is it yet another betrayal she didn't quite expect, that she's making a silent promise to herself that she will do her best to support him as well.

*

Later, when Nükhet causes an entire commotion, and announces she will leave the house and take Kaya with her, he declares in front of the entire mansion that he will stay behind and get married, just as he promised he will.

And Suna is not surprised at all.

[chatdae]

Grace FUMBLED Ryan! BAD parenting to preach respect and then act contrarily (ie saying she wants him to feel safe, then not allowing him any autonomy). She should've let him leave and come back... or at least explained why she didn't want him to leave before deciding (ex: 'Homelander will kidnap you', etc). She needed to let him make the decision for himself... agh. AAAAA.

And now Butcher's no use because he's committed to being evil and can't offer ANYTHING good to Ryan!!! He was so right, they NEEDED to give Ryan more space... I know the external pressures seemed impossible, but dammit, Grace, this was no way to beat the odds!

(this is about The Boys season four)

[cripplecryptid]

I AM ONCE AGAIN BEING BRAVE AND TAKING CARE OF MYSELF BUT GOOD GOD IT WOULD BE SO MUCH EASIER TO JUST FUCKING FREEZE AND STARE AT A WALL FOR 48 HOURS INSTEAD 😭

[eggwishing]

january vs november

[dykeofmisfortune]

working is overrated. real men are unemployed

[vitamin-zeeth]

forgot how fun drawing on paper is the in between stages look CRAZY

[mariemariemaria]

the people who think that christianity is the worst most problematic religion ever and the people who think that islam is the worst most problematic religion ever are two sides of the same coin to me

[nellectronic]

someone needs to bully me into working on my thesis

[greenieflor]

Barista and stoner skills are so transferable. Grind up a product to a specific grind level, pack it tightly into a special container. Smoke rings and latte art are the same. Doing it makes you hotter + bisexual. There's some weird masculinity attached to certain aspects, but also queer people flock to it. Looooooots of fun toys and accessories you can get to make it better, but the basics still work well. Only difference is one you pay for the addiction, the other it pays you.

[liones-s]

one of the biggest things I can advocate for (in academia, but also just in life) is to build credibility with yourself. It’s easy to fall into the habit of thinking of yourself as someone who does things last minute or who struggles to start tasks. people will tell you that you just need to build different habits, but I know for me at least the idea of ‘habit’ is sort of abstract and dehumanizing. Credibility is more like ‘I’ve done this before, so I know I can do it, and more importantly I trust myself to do it’. you set an assignment goal for the day and you meet it, and then you feel stronger setting one the next day. You establish a relationship with yourself that’s built on confidence and trust. That in turn starts to erode the barrier of insecurity and perfectionism and makes it easier to start and finish tasks. reframing the narrative as a process of building credibility makes it easier to celebrate each step and recognize how strong your relationship with yourself can become

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[miniimight]

I need more dad Sukuna and mom reader fics / headcsnons, I love the way you wrote for them!!

hey anon thank you! i'm thinking about making this a series, if you guys have any ideas/requests/prompts lmk <3

PICKING UP BABY FROM SCHOOL oops, toddlers can't ride motorcyles! (dad!sukuna x mom!reader)

sukuna rolled up about twenty minutes before his daughter's school got out, deploying the kickstand of his pitch black motorcycle against the rainbow colored fencing. he pulled off his helmet, sighing deeply when he met fresh air again.

his phone buzzed against his thigh. he pulled it out of his tight cargo pocket, answering immediately when he saw your caller ID. "hey, doll."

"you got there okay?" you asked.

"mhm."

"and you're on the right side of the building? that's where her class comes out."

"mhm."

"great." you exhaled. "m'sorry i couldn't make it this time—"

"stop." he says gruffly, his phone between his shoulder and ear as he pulls off his gloves. "what are you sorry for, silly girl? you're sick and should rest."

he doesn't mind anything when it comes to his two girls, not the fifteen minute commute to her school or the half hour of waiting just to get a parking spot nice and close to the doors.

your laugh was warbled over the phone. "at least the car is air conditioned. it's been getting warmer lately."

"..." he looked down at his bike.

"ryo, baby?" you hummed.

"hm?"

"you did take the car, right?"

"..."

his silence was all you needed to hear. he tuned out your worried rambling about how the hell is your daughter going to get home on that thing in order to process. toddlers don't usually use motorcycles as a mode of transportation... and he should've thought of this before!

"it'd be fine if i had an extra seat." he mused, debating on how he could manage this situation without having to call you to get them.

"an extra seat?! not even an extra helmet?" you shrieked. "baby, i swear, if you're actually thinking about driving with my baby girl on that thing—"

"relax, doll," he grumbled, pushing down the traces of embarrassment burning at his ears. "the brat will be fine, s'just a couple blocks away. she can handle the wind."

"..."

the bell rang and the doors swung open, children pouring out of the hallway and buzzing around in search of their parents.

"she's out, we'll see you soon." he was about to hang up when he heard,

"i'm literally about to come get you, do NOT go anywhere."

he frowns, his eyes scouring the crowd of midgets for his kid. he didn't mean to make you so upset and worried. he just... overlooked important details sometimes. not his fault, he's trying his best :(

"y/n, you will sit your ass down in bed. when i come home, you better be laying down exactly how i left you." he warned. he heard your breath hitch. "you trust me, don't you, baby?"

"yes... unfortunately."

he nodded. "we'll be home soon."

"in one piece?"

he rolled his eyes, grumbling. "yes, woman."

"hm." you huffed and hung up.

he strolled into the compound. as soon as he saw those pretty eyes that creased happily when they landed on him, he smiled and crouched down.

she ran over to him, her backpack jostling behind her. she held up a painting she made. "daddy, look!"

"i see." he pulled her closer, holding the backpack off her back and letting her walk off it. he slung the bedazzled bratz backpack over his shoulder, lifting her up in his arms. "what is it?"

"for mama."

"oh. all your crafts seem to be for mama. still nothing for me." he complained with a drawn out sigh.

she rolled her eyes, and he swore he was looking at you for a second.

"don't roll your eyes at me, brat." he scoffed. "who the hell even taught you that?" he muttered under his breath.

sukuna finally stopped in front of his bike. her eyes lit up as her legs started to kick in excitement. she's only ever seen daddy ride off on this thing, now she gets to ride with him?

he swung his leg over the bike, ignoring the mix of distasteful and flirtatious looks thrown at him. "okay, kid." he exhaled, shrugging off his jacket and holding it up to her. "gotta put this on."

she turned up her nose. "stinky."

his jaw dropped open. "i showered before i came to wait half an hour for you, chubby brat. the hell do you think you're talking to?"

she looked at him as if it were obvious.

"you'll put this on now. give me mama's painting, i'll put it in your bag." he said gruffly yet gently slid the painting into her backpack with the utmost care.

the jacket drowned her, the sleeves near triple the length of her arms. sukuna zipped her up and put the helmet on her head.

she started to whine. "stinky." she wailed.

"hush." he hissed, slapping some shades on and holding her towards her chest firmly. with her protected as best as he could with what he had, and with the jeweled backpack strapped to his back, he began to roll out into the road.

that drive home was the longest thirty minutes of his life. he had never drove so slow before.

you were waiting by the front door, running down to meet them as your husband pulled into the driveway.

"oh my god oh my god," you ripped your baby from his arms, tossing the helmet off her head. "are you okay, baby?" you smoothed away the sweaty hair from her face, your lips pursing when you hear her sniffles.

"my poor baby. daddy's never gonna pick you up again, don't you worry." you peppered her face with kisses.

sukuna caught the helmet before it crashed to the ground, walking behind you with his hands in his pockets. he kissed your temple as he leaned over your shoulder to peer down at his daughter. "daddy didn't do so bad."

you glare at him, cradling your daughter's head against your chest. you whirl away and storm into the house.

he sighed.

after many apologetic kisses and a good amount of groveling, you let him do pick-ups and drop-offs again. though you made sure to watch him get into the car before he drove off.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

Wool-Carder Bees: these solitary bees harvest the soft, downy hairs that grow on certain plants, rolling them into bundles and then using the material to line their nests

Wool-carder bees build their nests in existing cavities, usually finding a hole/crevice in a tree, a plant stem, a piece of rotting wood, or a man-made structure, and then lining the cavity with woolly plant fibers, which are used to form a series of brood cells.

The fibers (known as trichomes) are collected from the leaves and stems of various plants, including lamb’s ear (Stachys byzantina), mulleins, globe thistle, rose campion, and other fuzzy plants.

From the University of Florida's Department of Entomology & Nematology:

The female uses her toothed mandibles to scrape trichomes off fuzzy plants and collects a ball of the material under her abdomen. She transports these soft plant fibers to her selected nest site and uses them to line a brood cell. Next, she collects and deposits a provision of pollen and nectar into the cell, enough pollen to feed a larva until it is ready to pupate. Lastly, she lays a single egg on top of the pollen and nectar supply before sealing the cell. ... She will repeat this process with adjoining cells until the cavity is full.

These are solitary bees, meaning that they do not form colonies or live together in hives. Each female builds her own nest, and the males do not have nests at all.

Female wool-carder bees will sometimes sting if their nest is threatened, but they are generally docile. The males are notoriously aggressive, however; they will often chase, head-butt, and/or wrestle any other insect that invades their territory, and they may defend their territory from intruders up to 70 times per hour. The males do not have stingers, but there are five tiny spikes located on the last segment of their abdomen, and they often use those spikes when fighting. They also have strong, sharp mandibles that can crush other bees.

There are many different types of wool-carder bee, but the most prolific is the European wool-carder (Anthidium manicatum), which is native to Europe, Asia, and North Africa, but has also become established as an invasive species throughout much of North America, most of South America, and New Zealand. It is the most widely distributed unmanaged bee in the world.

A few different species of wool-carder bee: the top row depicts the European wool-carder, A. manicatum (left) and the spotted wool-carder, Anthidium maculosum (right), while the bottom row depicts the reticulated small-woolcarder, Pseudoanthidium reticulatum, and Porter's wool-carder, Anthidium porterae

Sources & More Info:

University of Florida: The Woolcarder Bee

Oregon State University: European Woolcarder Bees

Bohart Museum of Entomology: Facts about the Wool Carder Bee (PDF)

Bumblebee Conservation Trust: A. manicatum

World's Best Gardening Blog: European Wool Carder Bees - Likeable Bullies

Biological Invasions: Global Invasion by Anthidium manicatum

[mostly-imagines]

At Least I’m Not Alone at the Wake

jason todd x fem!reader

aka how jason feels safe even when he feels like he’s dying

HEY today we’re going to play a game where we practice reblogging fics: if you read this and like it—reblog!! ie, if you like and dont reblog i might block bc im getting sick of the lack of decorum

warnings: angst w comfort throughout

It took less than thirty seconds for the silence of the night to drift into sounds of shrieks echoing off the buildings along the street. The sharp contrast had you and Jason bolting upright on the couch, ears on alert. It only took a few seconds more of listening for you to realize you’re not hearing shouting—it’s laughter. Maniacal, uncontrolled laughter. 

There’s a beat as you both freeze upon the implication, the unsettling realization dropping in on you. You barely have a moment to process it before Jason’s pushing up from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

“Close the window,” he grumbles.

You blink as you register his words before jumping up to do as told, quickly sliding the frame shut and locking it. He returns soon with an armful of towels in hand, and you stand back as he stuffs a couple along the window sill with rough movements. He goes throughout the apartment, doing the same to the other windows. He rounds back to the living room window, looking down at the street with a heavy look on his face. 

You trust that the towels will do their job in preventing the laughing gas from getting in the apartment, but they’re unable to block out the bellows of hysteria.

He backs away from the window, letting the living room wall hold his weight. You both listen to the harrowing echoes with still bodies. 

You watch him, waiting for a reaction. You don’t mean to, but you know you’re looking at him like he’s a loaded spring. You try not to, you know how much he hates how his family does that to him, but fuck, it’s hard not to worry about him.

When Joker incidents have come up, they’ve usually been something you’re able to ignore or even get ahead of and drive out of the city. But this is raucous and chaotic, clearly enough to shut down the city from the inside. Besides, Jason would be booking it out of here if he thought there was any chance of a clean getaway in this.

But you know he’s got no interest in inserting himself in anything Joker related, especially something so destabilizing.

While you know Jason’s family cares about him, of course they do, but you’ve noticed they sometimes put Gotham’s needs first and his second. So the severity of this attack is concerning for you for two reasons.

“Will they…” you shuffle, “Will they need you?”

He’s quick to answer, voice firm. “No.” A long moment passes before he adds on, quieter, “They won’t want me out there.”

You nod to yourself, trying to relax your body. You being on edge isn’t going to help him.

You watch as his head thumps against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. He’s tough—you know he’s tough. He can withstand a hell of a lot more than you’ll probably ever even know. But even for Gotham, this is a lot. And even for someone who hasn’t been through what Jason has, the ringing repetitions of laughter are maddening. You wonder if this is what the Joker hears in his head. You wonder if this is what Jason heard.

The intensity of the laughing increases, more people likely becoming exposed to the gas. You think you can hear it in one of your neighbor’s apartments too.

He thumps his head against the drywall again, hands clenching at his sides. It takes one more forceful thud for you to move over to him, cradling your hand to the side of his head, holding him still. He lets you, though he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Jay,” you say softly, stroking his hair. “Let’s take a shower, yeah?” Normally you’d try for a bath to calm him instead but you hope the waterfall from the shower might be enough to drown out the noise.

He takes a second to respond, letting your hand bear the weight of his head. “Yeah.”

His voice is splintered though, and his shoulders droop as he stands up fully. He waits to move until you start to lead him, flinching at every spike of laughter. You reach back and take his hand, giving it two squeezes. He squeezes your hand back but doesn’t loosen his grip.

As you enter the bathroom he wastes no time getting straight to the shower nozzle and turning it on. You press the door shut behind you, sealing out a decent portion of the chaos. You decide against turning the overhead light on, opting instead to let the small pink-shaded lamp provide a warm glow that you can easily maneuver throughout the shadows in. You figure he needs a more tranquil atmosphere than the harsh white light the bathroom ceiling can provide.

You turn to him in time to catch him pulling his shirt up harshly, movements jerked and impatient.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm, “Hey.”

He pauses his actions, eyes on the floor.

You don’t say anything else, but he understands your objection regardless. You remove your touch and he peels his shirt off slower, kinder to himself. 

You wait to make sure he continues this method with the rest of his clothes before you start to remove yours.

The downpour of water on the tiles does it’s intended job in creating your own little sanctum away from the noise. You climb into the shower after him, standing in the stray mist sprays that made their way past him. The bits of water that do manage their way to you are hot—not scalding, but hot enough that you know his chest is going to start getting numb very soon standing in front of the stream like this. 

You trace lines over the muscles of his back, outlining them and every little indent of a scar. When you run out of canvas on his back you move onto his arms, right then left.

It’s not until you trace down his wrist that you realize his head is angled down. You don’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his focus is zeroed in on his scar and you’re not sure how long it's been that way. Too long, in any case.

“Jay,” you say so softly that the water nearly drowns you out. “Will you look at me, please?”

He does turn to you, slowly, but he doesn’t look up.

You hold his face in your hands, nudging him to look up at you. He looks tired, drained. 

You know he has to hear that laughter in a different way than you do. It’s uncomfortable and frightening for you, but for him, it’s layers upon layers of the sound he heard while he was being beaten to death. And even beyond that horrible trauma, the reminder of it brings forth every memory of what happened afterwards, not to mention the heavy baggage you know he feels over being here at all. And you can see it all mulling behind his eyes.

“You know I love you,” you tell him with sincerity. His gaze stays heavy and you can tell it’s a struggle for him to hold the eye contact.

You lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, catching his bottom lip slightly. Your next kiss meets his lips fully. You have to push up on your toes a little bit but he does the work of meeting you halfway. It’s a slow, intimate exchange, as fluid and serene as breathing.

“I love all of you,” you murmur against his lips. You let your hands fall to his chest, resting as gently as they can over his pecs. “Everything about you.”

You kiss the top of his Y scar, trailing down soft pecks to where it forks off. You feel his shoulders sag a bit, tension forcing its way out of him. You lean down to continue your kisses down the vertical line marking his abdomen, your hands lightly following in your wake.

He says your name painfully, like he’s begging you to stop. You’ll give him partial reprieve, taking his hands in yours and kissing his scarred knuckles. It’s his instinct to push affection away, you know that, but you also know that he needs it. That’s why he doesn’t stop you now—he knows he needs it—it’s just a lot for him all at once, emotionally. Which is why he gives no warning before he picks you up by your thighs and pulls you close. 

He’s got you a full head higher than him and he uses the difference to hide his face in your neck. Sometimes he feels like that’s the only place he can go. He maneuvers you around so your back is pressed up against the wall as you hold each other tight.

You stay in there like that until the water runs cold, and then some. You have to nudge him a bit into setting you back down then, but he does, letting you collect and wrap the both of you in towels. The second the water turns off you can hear the cackling through the walls. 

As you return to the bedroom, he only bothers to pull on a pair of boxers before collapsing his weight onto the mattress. The lack of layers won’t help him any, but you know why he did it.

He can’t always look after himself the way he should—he disregards his own needs and has trouble even thinking of what could help him. You’ve developed a mind for it though—for him—and you know that being exposed and vulnerable like this isn’t going to help him calm down. He prefers being covered up when he’s stressed, it gives him more security, you think.

You open up the dresser and dig through for his most comfortable hoodie and sweatpants. He takes them from you, but he looks remiss at the thought of exerting anymore energy right now, so you help him tug on the clothes, successfully blocking out the now icy air from the AC. 

Once he’s fully clothed he pulls you forward to sit on his lap. You stumble a bit on the way but he compensates by holding you very tight, not giving your body any option to fall. His grip on you tells you that he’s not concerned with you getting dressed too, which you’re perfectly willing to oblige.

You have to force him to let you break away a little bit so you can reach over to the nightstand and grab your phone and earbuds.

“Movie or music?”

He doesn’t say anything, only nods his head once at the end of your sentence. You take that to mean music and open up your playlist on your phone, handing him the headphones.

There’s a harsh spike in the hysterics outside, mixed with what sounds like screams, and it has Jason flinching hard. You think you can see tears welled in his eyes as he fumbles to get the headphones in his ears. He takes the phone from you and picks the first song he sees and turns the volume up, up, up.

You shift yourself around so that you’re laying back against the pillows, giving him room to lay down over your legs, wrapping his arms around your waist with a firm grip. You pull the hood up over his head, but keep your hands woven underneath, threading through his hair. 

His cheek mushes against your bare stomach, and with the way he’s laying, you’re sure the earbuds are digging uncomfortably into his ear. He makes no effort to move in any case. You can hear the song playing word for word, and while the noise exposure concerns you, if there was ever a time to let it go, it would be now.

You’re both wrapped up nicely in the blankets and you can only see the tip of his nose and a few strands of ivory hair strewn past his forehead. Despite all the snug layers, he shakes a bit under your touch.

He falls asleep before the problem outside gets wrapped up, and you turn down the music. Not all the way, just enough that he can rest in peace. 

After a while the giggles die down and aside from a few first responder sirens, things get quiet again. About twenty minutes later, Nightwing ducks in through your window and scares the hell out of you. The interaction does not, however, wake Jason up, which is how you know tonight took a very heavy toll on him.

Even though the lights aren’t on in your bedroom you slide down from the pillows a bit more and let the blanket and Jason drown your chest out from visibility.

Nightwing gives you a silent, if not awkward, wave and scans over Jason. Even in the dark can see the worry in his eyes. He looks back up at you and throws up a questioning thumbs up with a tilt of his head.

You nod and he nods back slowly as he takes one more look at his brother before hopping out the window.

You peer down at Jason and brush his curls back gently. His hold on you tightens just a bit as he turns in his sleep.

reblog or get out seriously

[nenelonomh]

building the life that you deserve

building the life you deserve is a journey that involves self-reflection, goal-setting, and consistent effort. here are some steps to help you get started:

decide what you want: identify what you want to change about your life and how you envision your ideal life. this clarity can help you focus on your goals.

envision your ideal life: this step is all about creating a clear and vivid picture of the life you want to live. when you start to envision your life as you want it to be, it helps to guide your actions and decisions towards making that vision a reality.

set goals: break down your vision into achievable goals. this makes the process less overwhelming and more manageable.

take action: start making changes, even if they are small. consistent effort over time leads to significant progress.

prioritize relationships: building and maintaining strong relationships is essential for a fulfilling life.

simplify your life: remove unnecessary possessions and distractions. this can help you focus on what truly matters.

believe in yourself: trust in your abilities and strengths. confidence is key to overcoming challenges and achieving your goals.

remember, it’s your journey, and you have the power to change it.

[princessbellecerise]

Snow With A Bimbo Reader

──── ✧*･ﾟ*✭˚･ﾟ✧ ────

summary | Coryo loves how dumb you are. It makes him look even smarter

warnings | toxic!coryo, dumb!reader, slight innocent!reader, smut, slight housewife!reader

this is an eighteen plus fic. minors do not enter

divider by @princessbellecerise

When he first met you at the academy, it was safe to say that from the moment he saw you, Snow was obsessed

You weren’t in the same class as him, though there was really no reason you ought to be because you were not nearly as smart as the other students, but he still noticed you in some classes

Coryo figured that your parents must have bought your way in, because bless your heart you are so dumb

When he first meets you, it’s almost pitiful how he notices that you’re nowhere near his academic level, but that’s okay because you sure are pretty

And despite being insanely attracted to power and intelligence, Coryo finds himself focusing all his attention on you

He can’t think of anything else in class other than the way your pretty little face scrunches up because you’re not understanding any of it, or the way your lips pout because you’re beyond lost

You’re just so beautifully stupid and cute and Coryo can’t stop thinking about how he can’t wait to get his claws into you

So at first he starts by tutoring you as way to get closer to you

God knows that you need it, and when he offers of course you accept because hello—everyone knows that Snow is on top

So, he begins to tutor you, and that’s all it is at first

A few flirty remarks here and there, like him telling you your hair looks pretty or your outfit fits you nice

Nothing too crazy, but the more time Coryo spends with you, the more you drive him insane

He has amazing self control because even though he wants to do nothing but grab you and kiss you the entire time you’re talking, he holds himself back

He takes it slow as to not scare you or confuse your dumb little mind. After all, you can only process so much

Which is why he doesn’t actually tutor you—not the hard stuff anyways. He just finds little easy thing for you to accomplish so he can watch as your face lights up when you solve something he’s done a million times before

He builds you up before he plans on breaking you down, before he plans on molding you into his perfect partner

Coryo will gain your trust at first and only when he’s got it will he strike

Like a snake, you don’t even see his plan or see him coming until he’s right there in front of you, poisoning you with his sweet lips and kissing you one day

It comes so sudden for you that you’re shocked, not even kissing him back till he’s squeezing your jaw a little so you let him in

He’ll kiss you deeply so that you can feel what he feels for you, so that you know just how desperately he wants you

Through his lips, he’ll spread his venom, and since you’re not smart enough to even know that you’ve been bit, you fall for it easily

You kiss him back, and your giggles when you pull away make Coryo smirk. He loves seeing you nervous around him and fuck; does he love tasting your pretty lips

Once you start agree to start dating him, it’s already too late for you. And for Coryo, it’s just the beginning

Coryo already has plans that you’re not apart of, but he’s excited to carry them out because you are everything that he needs

He needs someone that won’t question him, that will obey him and do everything he says. He needs to be in charge and with you, he is

Like a good little girl, you do everything Coryo tells you to do. Miss class for him, sit on his lap, stop doing your assignments

Pretty soon, he’s got it to where all you do is hang out with him. Make plans with him. Do things for him

He’s got you wrapped around his finger and you don’t even know it. You’re just so happy with him that you don’t even question it when he tells you to quit

“Leave the academy and I’ll take care of you. I promise,” Is what Coryo says, so you do

You stop attending class, you drop out and slowly you move from your home to be with Coryo in his

It’s a little packed, but you make it work especially with Tigris and his grandmother

They both adore you, though Tigris is a little concerned with you dropping out. She’ll try and persuade you to continue your education but don’t worry—Coryo will never let that happen

When you tell him Tigris’ words, he simply scoffs and tells you that pretty girls like you don’t belong in academics. You don’t belong in that terrible, toxic work force

No, no, you deserve to stay home and to serve him. An easy job, he convinces you, and a soft life

“It’s what you deserve,” He tells you, so you give up on the idea of returning

Instead, you stay at home and wait for Coryo day and night. During the days, you’ll cook, clean and during the nights you’ll be there for him

In the privacy of your now shared bedroom is where he fucks you, the mattress squeaking from how hard he pounds into your tight cunt

Coryo loves it when you whine and beg, crying out how he’s too big for you

He loves to hear you praise him and for you to stroke his ego. With a hand wrapped around your throat, he’ll fuck you until you’re screaming his name into the mattress and until you realize that you belong to him

The love bites and marks he leaves on your thighs are a constant reminder. He tells you that you should be lucky, grateful that you don’t have to use your head anymore

Grateful to have someone like him to take care of you, and you are. Coryo gives you a life that people can only dream about

Once he becomes President of Panem, you’re spoiled with riches that you didn’t even know existed. Diamonds, silks, luxurious foods

And the best part is, all you have to do is smile and wave. After all, you are his best asset