#because I’ve put them in a place that makes sense to me

[nightwingsgypsyrep]

One of the things which really annoys me about Dick Grayson’s characterisation by both DC and the fandom is how they treat his being Romani (I say this as a gypsy from the circus myself) also before people cancel me for saying gypsy - I am not American and it’s not a slur where I am from. I am a gypsy myself so please don’t freak out about my using this term which feels comfortable and accurate to me

I know this is a common complaint, but being a gypsy or Romani is such a niche ethnic identity, and so often I see people treat it almost like a nationality. For example, the idea that Dick Grayson grew up not knowing English is so bizarre to me… of course he knew English, he may be Romani and speak it, but he is also American. The shopkeeper who he is buying food from doesn’t speak Romani, nor do the local authorities whose permission we need to even put on a circus/fair, so it makes sense that he’d speak English to them. He works in the circus: his family’s livelihood depended on his being able to draw a crowd - if he can’t interact with the people he’s taking the money from, how does he expect to make it in what is essentially a customer service job (I speak from experience here). Also, historically, by the late 18th century, the vast majority of Romani-speaking gypsies also spoke another language as a first language, and by the 20th century, I could argue that this is about 99.99999% of us, if not all.

The other thing I often see is how Dick Grayson is portrayed as being the Bristol-raised kid who doesn’t understand Jason’s Crime Alley upbringing. And yeah, whilst Dick lived with Bruce from a young age, and might (even based on his personality) have a better chance of mixing with the rich kids, let’s not act like Dick didn’t know struggle as a kid. Even if his parents were fairly comfortable economically, he spent at least half the year living in a trailer/vardo, which people associate with being working class. All gypsy kids are taught to fight from a very young age because whenever we pull on somewhere to open (aka put on the show), we expect a hell of a lot of racism from the locals, which often included getting jumped, often by multiple older gadja/gorja/non-gypsy children - and hell, even adults! As well as knowing how to defend ourselves, this also leads to a lot us developing a bit of a defence mechanism wherein we can talk ourselves out of a situation, or endear ourselves to people quickly in the first place so we don’t get fighting (keeping us safe, and keeping us in the good graces of the locals so we can continue earning a living there) - perhaps this could be explored as part of the reasoning behind the famous Dick Grayson charm? Anyway, all this to say, Dick would fully understand what it’s like to be the poor outsider who has to fight at every corner just to exist, and justifying his existence to others who view themselves as his ‘superiors’.

My final complaint is a small one: every single gypsy I know grows up absolutely BELTING Cher’s ‘Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves’ and the fact that I’ve not seen Dick pouring his heart into that song, screaming the words ‘I was born in the wagon of a travelling show’ is honestly a hate crime which must be fixed immediately.

[saivii]

I have some thoughts about Nam-gyu’s character (how he comes across to me) because none of the ways I’ve seen people on here characterize him 100% resonate with me. Here are my thoughts on him, and some of these are just speculation on my part:

• He doesn’t like feeling out of control or helpless in any way. I think he has a complex about seeming “weak” and gets really set off if anything seems to confirm that he might appear weak.

• Has some self-hatred but would never admit it.

• Full of resentment (again, he would never admit that)

• Two-faced, tends to act polite/suck up to people who seem stronger but bullies people who are on the same “level” as him (this probably ties into his job as a club promoter because it would involve him having to appeal to people with more power)

* I think that he doesn’t like people who seem “weak” because he worries that other people might see him that way, especially if those “weak” people get close to him.

* I also think he doesn’t like to get too close to people in general because he’s afraid they won’t stay, either because they’ll die or because they’ll stab him in the back. He’s fine acting friendly on a surface level or having fun with someone while high, but he never acts completely genuine and tries not to get attached.

• I think he seems worried that other people look down on him (e.g. when he kills se-mi he asks her if she thinks he’s a joke)

• Is clearly terrified of the games but doesn’t want anyone to know that (hence him relying on the drugs)

* The only person that he seems somewhat comfortable with knowing that he’s scared is Thanos. I think it’s because he’s at least willing to admit that Thanos is stronger than him if it means he can rely on Thanos (it gives him a sense of security). Also he knows admitting it to Thanos might help him get the drugs, which will make it easier to suppress his fear and thus survive. It also might be a bit easier for him because he knew Thanos before the games.

* His total 180 to everyone else after getting the drugs (acting all confident in front of Min-su) shows how unwilling he is to show fear in front of most people. The fact that Se-mi calls him out on it really sets him off and I think that’s what leads to him resenting her so much, because she sees through the facade he tries to put up.

• Says that he did all kinds of crazy stuff when he worked at the club, which makes me wonder a lot of things, like is that how he started using? Did he use to hide how that job made him feel? Did he use to make it easier to put up a front?

• I can’t help but wonder if a small part of him was slightly worried about Gyeong-su during Mingle. Obviously it wasn’t enough for him to really hesitate or anything but when he gets into a room safely he’s the one who looks out the window (which I don’t think he does in any other round of Mingle) and he gets snappy when Min-su asks him about Gyeong-su.

• I think he simultaneously admires and resents Thanos. I think he envies the way Thanos seems so carefree and sure of himself as well as the fame and influence that Thanos has. I also think that while he meant to just use Thanos for security, he ends up getting attached to Thanos and doesn’t really realize it until Thanos is dead. He still feels resentful toward Thanos and tries to convince himself that it’s all he feels, though.

* It’s so hard to describe how I think he felt about Thanos but none of the takes I’ve seen so far have really reflected how I think he felt. I don’t think the reason he hated Min-su and Se-mi were because of jealously stemming from an attraction to Thanos. I think he hated those two because if Thanos paid more attention to them, that would make him feel weaker or less important than them and worsen the weird inferiority complex that I think he has. So he’s jealous in the sense that he feels like he has to compete with them for second place. Side note: I also think he hated them because them voting X showed that he wasn’t skilled enough to manipulate or intimidate them into doing what he wanted them to.

* I also think at first he was desperate to stay by Thanos so he wouldn’t be alone in the games. Since he already knew Thanos from working at the club and he could bond with Thanos over their shared hatred of 333 he had his foot in the door to become Thanos’s ally, but seeing the number of players who are fans of Thanos (and later seeing Thanos gravitate toward Min-su and Se-mi) makes Nam-gyu anxious that he might get left out or forgotten. He knows that Thanos is a strong player, and if he can’t be the strongest, he at least wants to be the second strongest.

* I think he’s really shaken after Thanos’s death and doesn’t completely understand why, which only bothers him more. On the one hand, he doesn’t have to feel inferior to Thanos anymore, but now he’s alone. Min-su and Se-mi are on the X side (and he never really liked either of them much anyway) and the one person he was able to have fun with is dead. When he takes the drugs with Thanos, he tends to goof around more, but when he takes them alone after Thanos dies, he’s aggressive and unhinged, and I think that shows that losing Thanos

• I think he tends to be touchy with other people in order to get them to do what he wants them to. Nam-gyu tends to be more manipulative and roundabout compared to Thanos (of course he can also be violent and direct at times though), and being touchy is his way of feigning intimacy and trying to get the other person’s guard down.

• This is 100% a headcanon but I think he’s bisexual. I think for a long time he assumed he couldn’t be attracted to men because he was attracted to women and he thought that meant he had to be straight. Then one day he hears about bisexuality and he’s like “ohhhh.” He’s definitely closeted tho.

• Another headcanon of mine is that he’s more of an introvert than he seems. Like he tries very hard to seem energetic and outgoing but on the inside he’s tired of people.

Hopefully this made sense and wasn’t too repetitive lol! Idk I guess I just wanted to share my thoughts on him because the main takes on him that I’ve seen are either “I hate him so much he’s the worst and he didn’t care about Thanos at all” or him just being completely dependent on Thanos (and to be fair, a lot of his characterization does relate to Thanos but I feel like ppl sometimes water down his character just so they can ship him with Thanos if that makes sense. Nothing against that ship btw, I actually like them together!) Basically he’s a silly little guy but he’s also a little fucked up actually.

Here’s a couple of pictures that sum him up in a nutshell (to me):

[bloomzone]

2025 : #12 step by step you can change your life. how I found my way back

I want to talk about something real today. Something that I think a lot of us go through but don’t always talk about.

✒️..You ever feel… lost? Like, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t figure out where you’re supposed to go, or who you’re supposed to be? Like you’re stuck in this endless loop of feeling not good enough, not smart enough, not anything enough?

I’ve been there.

And I want to share my story—not because I’ve got everything figured out (I definitely don’t), but because maybe my experience can help someone else feel a little less alone.

Growing Up with Big Dreams

Growing up, I was that kid. Curious about everything, constantly reading, always asking questions. I loved learning. I loved dreaming. My parents encouraged me in every way they could—books, art, even challenging me with random exams that were way above my level. Because of them, I felt like I could do anything. Like the world was wide open, just waiting for me to take my place in it. (they are toxic I won't lie especially in the term of getting good grades)

But life has a way of shaking things up, doesn’t it?

When I started middle school, everything changed.

When Everything Fell Apart

Middle school was… the hardest time of my life. I’m not exaggerating when I say those years broke me in ways I didn’t think were possible.I was bullied—constantly. Nasty comments, rumors, people talking about me behind my back. It even got physical sometimes—a slap across the face here, a shove there.And you know what? At first, I thought I could handle it. But the thing about bullying is that it creeps in, little by little, until one day you realize it’s taken over your entire life.

I didn’t recognize myself anymore.I became bitter, angry, and mean. I lashed out at people because I didn’t know what else to do. And at the same time, I was desperate to fit in, so I started copying the people who hurt me—adopting their behavior, their mannerisms—just so they’d accept me

But it didn’t work.!!!Instead, I just felt… empty. Like everything that made me me was gone.

Hitting Rock Bottom

By 14, I was at my lowest point. My grades were trash, my friendships felt fake, and I didn’t even want to look at myself in the mirror because I hated what I saw.I started staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning just crying .I shut myself off from everyone. And, at my worst, I started self-harming.

I felt like there was no way out.And then one day, I came home from school it was an 8 april 2023 7pm threw my bag on the floor, and climbed onto the ledge of the house roof I just wanted it to stop. The pain, the loneliness, the feeling that I’d never be enough. I was ready to give up.

But then… I looked up.

The Moment That Changed Everything

The sky was gorgeous that day. It was one of those sunsets where the colors just don’t make sense—soft pinks fading into oranges and purples, with clouds that looked like they’d been painted on.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt something.

It reminded me of all the things I used to love—the watercolor / pastel paintings I used to paint in my ipad and put it as a lock screen lmao , the books I used to read, the way my parents would encourage me to dream bigger, be curious explore the world my favs music artists (I'm a wizone,stay,dive, engene if anyone want to know hehe)

It hit me: I wasn’t ready to let go of all of that. I wasn’t ready to let go of me I was too young for this

So, instead of stepping forward, I sat down. Right there on the ledge, legs crossed, staring at the sky as the colors changed.

That small step—sitting down—was the single most extraordinary step I’ve ever taken.

Rebuilding Myself

That moment didn’t fix everything. Life doesn’t work like that. But it was the start of something.It reminded me that even when I felt broken, the core of who I was—the curious, creative, passionate version of me—was still there.I started making changes. Little ones, at first. Letting go of toxic friendships. Focusing on the things that made me happy, like reading , listening to music and writing.

And then came high school. High school was my first real fresh start.

It was a place where I could make new friends, try new things, and leave the past behind me. It was a chance to reinvent myself.

And I did. I created a Tumblr account later in the last days of November 2023 as a sort of diary—a safe space where I could share my thoughts, help others who felt lost like I did, and find comfort in the small, everyday moments. It became my little corner of the world, where I could be myself and help others feel better and be the best version of themselves

It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t quick. But slowly, I started to feel like me again.

What I Learned

Here’s what I’ve learned through all of this:

1. Your Compass Is Never Broken.

No matter how lost you feel, the good in you—the things that make you you—never go away. They’re always there, waiting for you to see them again.

2. You Can Choose Your Environment.

You don’t have to stay in toxic spaces. You deserve to be around people who lift you up, who make you feel valued and loved.

3. Small Steps Matter.

Sometimes, the smallest actions—sitting down, looking at the sky, talking to a friend—can change everything. Don’t underestimate them.

To Anyone Who Feels Lost

If you’re reading this and you’re struggling, I need you to hear me: You are not alone.I know it feels like things will never get better, but I promise you, they can. The pain you’re feeling right now doesn’t define you.You have so much to offer this world. You have so much good inside of you. And even if it feels like your compass is cracked and empty, the needle—your essence—is still pointing north.So, take a deep breath. Look for the little things that remind you of who you are. And don’t be afraid to ask for help.Because you are so much stronger than you think.

And trust me… you’re going to find your way.

Thank you for reading.

written by tears and love @bloomzone

[kybercrystals94]

Of Scene Breaks & Plot Twists (Pt. 2)

Read here on Ao3!

<<Previous Part | Next Part >>

Rated: G | Word Count: 2035 | Summary: The plot has the audacity to thicken...

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone who had wonderful ideas for the furthering of this story...I have allowed those seeds of inspiration to take root, and now we have a multi-chapter fic taking place!

“This is ridiculous,” Hunter says. “Do something!” 

I frown and tsk, folding my arms over my chest. “You didn’t want my help, remember? I’ve been in the way.”

“This is your fault!” 

“What? I am creating a moment of conflict for the heroes to overcome and grow through. It’s good storytelling.” 

“No, you did this to make a point,” Echo contradicts.

I gasp, scandalized by the blatant accusation. “Do you honestly think I would compromise the mission for something so petty as that?” 

Four out of five of them make various noises of affirmation, which is fair, because they are right. Doesn’t mean I have to admit it. 

Wrecker, the only one who didn’t say anything, speaks up, “Uhm, guys? Does it look like our ship is melting?” 

All eyes return to the foul creature gumming hungrily at the Marauder. It looks like there might be some meltage. Possibly. Perhaps there will be some damage after all. 

Oops.   

“My ship!” Tech wails, taking a stumbling step forward.

“Our ship,” Crosshair corrects him in a muttered breath. 

I’m slack jawed. Now this is a plot twist…even for me. 

“Stop this,” Tech demands, turning sharply to face me. “Make this stop right now.” 

“That wouldn’t make sense for the narrative to just make a creature disappear into thin air,” I explain, “that’s not how writing works.” 

“Then scene break,” Hunter orders, “Or plot twist. Or whatever it is you do with your writer magic.” 

I chew on the inside of my cheek nervously. I suppose there is one thing I could do, even though it would mean…ugh. It’s my own fault. 

“Fine,” I say, reluctantly, “Here’s a plot hole for you. It should react to your blasters now…” 

The boys don’t waste any time testing the theory. On the bright side, the creature does react to the blaster bolts. Downside is it reacts violently and rushes straight at us instead with horrific speed.

We scatter like roaches, and I find myself stumbling over alien terrain completely and utterly defenseless. I don’t have armor, a blaster, or even common sense to spare. I hear the boys behind me, voices tinny through their helmets’ modulators. However, not a single syllable they call out solidifies into an identifiable word to my panicked ears, so I continue my headlong sprint to the boulder I’ve set my eyes on. 

I have to think. I need just a moment, undistracted, to come up with a solution. However, my writer’s block appears as immovable as the jutting stone I skitter behind on frantic, wobbly legs. Blood roars in my ears, pounding in time with my thrashing heartbeat. I press myself against my stronghold, attempting to mold my spine to the natural wall. This is terrifying, being included in the chaos. I almost feel awful for all of the vague, awful missions and injuries I’ve put the characters through. 

Almost. 

The boys will think of something, they always do. 

I realize, suddenly, that I could jump ahead, insert a scene break and find myself tucked inside the Marauder hurtling through hyperspace. Sure, the Batch will have something to say about it. However, it is better than – 

“Look out!” 

Darkness claps over my vision suddenly and I know nothing more.

**

“Can we name them something besides writer person?” Wrecker asks, watching from his perch in the gunner’s mount as Tech and Echo examine the individual laid out on the fold down cot in the main hold. 

Crosshair huffs from his place at the nav computer. “They aren’t a pet, Wrecker.” 

“What about Scribbles?” Wrecker suggests, undeterred. “That’s kinda cute, isn’t it?” 

“That thing is anything but cute. They’re a menace.” Crosshair gnaws on his toothpick thoughtfully. “We should call them Hazard.” 

“Naw, I still like Scribbles. Let’s vote!” Wrecker jumps down, boots crashing to the durasteel floor. “Echo, Tech, which do you like better?” 

“I have no wish to participate in such an election,” Tech says dismissively, pouring over the results of the med scanner on his data pad. 

Echo says, distractedly, “Eh, I like Scribbles, I guess.” 

“Ha!” Wrecker crows, “Two against one! We win.” 

“Hunter hasn’t voted,” Crosshair refutes cooly. “Then it’ll be two against two, which will cancel out naming the writer person at all.” 

“Hunter!” Wrecker calls out, and before any three of the other members can scold him for being too loud, Wrecker is ambling into the cockpit to seek out their sergeant. 

“Please tell me they aren’t going to make it,” Crosshair says with a wry grin to no one in particular. 

“As if we’d be so fortunate,” Tech shoots back without missing a beat. 

The dark humor earns a sharp look from Echo, but Crosshair’s enhanced eyesight doesn’t miss the microexpression of amusement that twitches at the edges of Echo’s disdain. “They have a concussion,” Echo says, “but they’ll be fine.” 

Wrecker comes bounding back from the cockpit, grinning wildly. “Hunter said we can call ‘em Skribbles.” 

Crosshair hums doubtfully, fully aware that Wrecker did not give Hunter both options available to him; however, it isn’t worth the argument it will cause if he makes the accusation. 

“What are we going to do with them?” Echo asks. “Do they just disappear after a time? Or…” 

“How would I know?” Tech asks irritably. “I am more concerned with the replacement panels I will have to get and install for the ship.” 

“At least she’s still flyable and we’re not stuck on that maker forsaken planet.” 

Tech rolls his eyes. “That is not the point. The point is that this writer -” 

“Scribbles,” Wrecker reminds him. 

Tech regards the giant coolly for a moment before continuing, “- has made our lives difficult for no other reason than to relay entirely fictional accounts to others in their universe. It is criminal.”  

“I still wanna read them,” Wrecker says, “Maybe we’ll get some ideas.” 

Echo scoffs. “Name one idea they’ve had so far that we’d ever want to use again.” 

“We come up with dumb ideas too, sometimes,” Wrecker says defensively. “They said something about writer’s block. Maybe they’re sick with it.”

“I believe that is a reference to creative obstruction,” Tech says. “It is not a real ailment.”

Wrecker shrugs. “But maybe we could still help ‘em.”

“Absolutely not,” Crosshair interjects. “We aren’t helping them with anything. The faster we get rid of them, the faster we get back to our normal lives.” 

“They did say they’d leave once we finished this mission. We can give them our mission report with all the details, and that’ll be good enough,” Echo says. 

Hunter steps into the hold just then. “We’re about four standard hours out from the rendezvous,” he says. “Any chance we’ll be rid of Scribs before then?” 

“Their name is Scribbles!” Wrecker protests. 

Hunter rolls his eyes. “I don’t care what their name is. How long until they’re gone.”

“I do not believe we have any control over when they leave currently,” Tech says. 

Crosshair grumbles, “Only because no one will agree to the airlock idea.”

He is ignored…again.

“Well, ask them when they wake up,” Hunter says. “And be careful not to irritate them. We’ve had enough plot twists for one day. I’m going to try and get caught up on some reports…I trust you can handle everything back here?”

Tech sniffs indignantly. “We’ve been handling it.” 

“Just make sure they don’t do anything stupid before we finish the mission,” Hunter reiterates. 

“Yes, sir,” Echo says before a squabble can break out. Which is the last they need. 

Like Hunter said. They’ve had enough plot twists for the day.

**

Returning to consciousness is strange. It isn’t quite like waking up. It’s confusing, disorienting. My head is throbbing like it’s got a heartbeat of its own, a rhythmic ache that seems intent on splitting my skull open. I groan. 

“Ah, it appears they are waking up.” Tech.

“‘Bout time, Scribbles! We’ve been worried about ya!” Wrecker.

“Speak for yourself.” Ugh…Crosshair.

“Both of you, shut up. You’re being too loud.” Thank you, Echo.

Memories trip across the threshold of my mind, tumbling into a pile that I try to sort into a timeline. It’s all I can do to open my eyes. I do so, reluctantly, squinting against artificial light that pours into my retinas. “What happened to me?” I ask. 

“What is the last thing you remember?” Tech asks. 

I blink slowly at the ceiling’s shadows glaring down at me. “Uhm. I remember the creature…being behind a rock…and that’s it.” 

“You were rendered unconscious after being struck by some falling debris,” Tech says, his explanation impressively informative and vague. “You will be fine. It is a minor injury.” 

I wince, reaching up to brush my fingers across an impressive lump. “What kind of falling debris?” 

“Wrecker threw a rock at the monster,” Crosshair supplies. “Supposedly, he hit the wrong one.” 

I’m too miserable to roll my eyes, although the sentiment is there. 

“Sorry about that, Scribbles, I really didn’t see ya back there,” Wrecker tells me earnestly. 

“It’s okay, Wrecker,” I mumble. If it had been anyone else, I would doubt it was an accident. 

Wait…Scribbles. 

That is the second time Wrecker has referred to me as Scribbles. 

“Why’re you calling me that?” I ask. 

“You like it? It’s the name I gave ya, instead of calling you Writer Person.” 

Huh. I guess that is an improvement. I manage a grin, “Yeah. I do like it. Thanks, Wrecker.” 

“So, when can we look forward to you leaving?” Crosshair asks. 

My head must be really foggy, because I forgot that was an option. I could just leave. 

“You know what,” I say, pushing myself up with a groan. “You’re right. I should go. It’s been fun…sorta.” 

“What about your story?” Wrecker asks, and I can practically feel the dirty looks he must be getting from his brothers. Yeah. I’ve harassed them in person long enough. 

“I’ll manage somehow,” I assure him. 

I think of my laptop, keys under my fingertips, the rattling of words being typed on a word document. I think of home. I think of sleeping off my migraine, because this must be a migraine. There’s no way I actually have a concussion, that I was actually injured in a fictional world made up of my own imagination. 

But the fictional world doesn’t slip away, and the real world doesn’t slide into view. 

I am still sitting on an uncomfortable cot on the Marauder. 

If I thought I was scared running from that globby creature in the last scene, I’m terrified now. 

Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’t panic…

“I think they are having a panic attack.” 

Wake up, wake up, wake up…

“Scribbles, are you okay?” 

This is just a dream. A lucid dream. I’m fine. I’ll wake up with a terrible headache…I don’t have a real concussion…I’m not really here…

“Hey, kid, you need to slow your breathing. You’re going to make yourself pass out.” 

I am vaguely aware of hyperventilating, so I catch the next exhale in my throat. 

“No, don’t…don’t hold your breath. You still need to breathe.”

You have to choose…I’m gonna either hold my breath or hyperventilate...

“What’s wrong with them?” 

“Does it look like we kriffing know?” 

“All of you, be quiet. You aren’t helping. Hey, Scribbles or whatever your name is, listen to me.” 

The voice is close, right in front of me. I force myself to focus. Focus. 

“You’re not able to leave, are you,” the voice says. It isn’t a question. 

I don’t know whether I’m supposed to nod or shake my head. I decide to bob my head once and hope that the voice knows what it means. 

“Alright,” the voice says. “Got it. We’ll figure this out. One hundred percent success rate, right?” 

I take a shuddering breath. My vision is still blotchy. “Right,” I manage to mutter. 

“Good.” I am now able to recognize that it’s Hunter who has been speaking. 

Aww. He’s such a good dad. Just like with Omega.

“Uhm, hello,” a small, familiar voice says. 

I might start panicking again, but going off the startled shouts of the soldiers around me, I’m not the only one. 

Because I might’ve just made Omega enter the chat. 

Plot twist. 

TBC

A/N: *checks sundial* It's been a hot minute since I've posted anything...and of course, my chaotic crack-fic is what gets an update first. Sincerest apologies. I have been struggling to find time to write...but because this one is literal chaos incarnate, it's been easier to write it in the snatches of time I find...I promise I am still working on my other WIPs...they are not abandoned!

I am literally writing this with no plan in mind...makes it *~*authentic*~*...and also chaotic!

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[gatheryepens]

Sun, 18.06: pure maths revision :)

Happy happy Sunday all!!! I hope everyone had a fabulous week. My weekend was pretty good, yesterday we went out for a meal to celebrate a birthday and I was wearing these really nice trousers - they were very groovy. The food was really nice, which is always good. Today has been pretty decent, it’s been raining for a good chunk of it which is nice since it beats being constantly warm. Bad thing about today is I was washing a glass, it had a crack in it and I accidentally broke it cutting my thumb as well. Bad news is it looks like a deep cut and it’s my left hand (this is the hand I write with). It really hurts but I’m hoping tomorrow it will fine. I have four exams this week which is going to be rough but I’m so close to finishing so the motivation is there :) .

🎶 Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen

[kavehayati]

Chappel Roan saying she’s sad she’s demisexual and then there’s me being aroace as a whole like don’t you think I’m even more sad 😭

[reenaria]

currently having a queer identity crisis on this accursed holiday

[captainhongjoong]

it should not be time yet for my period but it really feels like it is. i’m about to kill my mother over furniture

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[alexsays-no]

Day of the Dead (Dia De Los Muertos) is a two day holiday that reunites the living and dead. Families create ofrendas (Offerings) to honor their departed family members that have passed. These altars are decorated with bright yellow marigold flowers, photos of the departed, and the favorite foods and drinks of the one being honored. The offerings are believed to encourage visits from the land of the dead as the departed souls hear their prayers, smell their foods and join in the celebrations!

Day of the Dead is a rare holiday for celebrating death and life. It is unlike any holiday where mourning is exchanged for celebration.

Hi, it’s Alex now, so with this one I have to admit I did get really sad doing it, not just for the characters but for the meaning behind it, día de muertos is like my favorite tradition, at times when I was ashamed of being Mexican, día de muertos stood proud in my mind because it was something that was just here, something that Mexicans had, and it beautiful, and colorful and has so much love behind everything. But also I wanted to portrait how (at least me) we are willing to share with the world, I’ve seen a lot of TikTok’s of people of other countries saying that they love the altars and that they want to do one for their loved ones, but that they don’t know if it’s okay, and below there are so many messages of Mexicans inviting them to do the research and to put one. Is that sense of that’s the point of these days, to remember in a loving way the life of those who are gone, and share the sentiment with the world. Here is portrait with Sirius not knowing if he can put Reg’s photo, and James just smiles at him (he already had a place ready for him, he was just waiting to see if Sirius was okay with it). And with this, I invite any of you that want to try and make an altar, or research more about this, to do it, and to try. I think this day connects with all places in the world because we all have someone dear to us that passed away, even if it’s a lil pet.

[dollishmehrayan]

# “I’M GONNA MARRY HER ANYWAY” ── .✦ ( how batboys marry you and propose to you )

a/n: this is a request by anon (here) but literally this is making me feel like ultra single on a spectrum, anyways I love these type of requests because I like some simple stuff like this ya know? Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Proposal: The stars are twinkling above as Dick stands beside you on a rooftop he transformed into a wonderland of fairy lights and soft music. “You’ve given me so many reasons to smile, and now I want to give you one more,” he says, his voice trembling with emotion as he gets down on one knee. His eyes are so full of love you feel like you could drown in them. When you say yes, he lifts you into his arms and spins you around, whispering, “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving you.” (He’s such a mediocre man proposing 😭🌚 h/j)

The Ceremony: Dick watches you walk down the aisle, completely captivated, like he’s seeing the sun rise for the first time. His vows are filled with tender promises: “From the moment I met you, my heart knew it had found its home. You are my partner, my best friend, and the love of my life. I promise to stand by your side, to laugh with you, to cry with you, and to love you endlessly.” By the time he finishes, his voice cracks, and tears stream down his face. (You swear he cried like 6x times that day.)

Married Life: Every day with Dick is a celebration of love. He leaves you little notes that say, “You’re my greatest adventure” and brings you flowers just because. He holds your face in his hands like you’re the most precious thing in the world, telling you, “I fall more in love with you every single day.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

The Proposal: Jason plans something quiet, but the depth of his love shines through. Sitting on the couch together after dinner, he pulls out a small velvet box and says, “I’m not great at speeches, and I’ve never been the guy who gets things right the first time. But I know I got this right. You’re my home, my peace, and my everything. Marry me?” His voice is soft, almost vulnerable, and when he sees your tears, he gently wipes them away and says, “I’d spend my whole life making you happy.”

The Ceremony: Jason’s vows are raw and honest: “I’ve lived a life that didn’t always make sense, but you—you’re my clarity. You make me want to be better, to deserve the love you so freely give me. I promise to protect your heart, to cherish you every day, and to never stop fighting for us.” His hand shakes as he slides the ring onto your finger, but the love in his eyes steadies him.

Married Life: Jason doesn’t just love you—he adores you. He’ll randomly pull you into his lap just to hold you, resting his forehead against yours as he whispers, “You have no idea how lucky I feel to have you.” On lazy mornings, he cooks breakfast for you, insisting, “You’re too good for me, but I’m keeping you anyway.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The Proposal: Tim’s proposal is a masterpiece of thoughtfulness. He plans an entire day filled with your favorite things—a visit to your favorite bookstore, dinner at the place you’ve been wanting to try, and finally, a quiet moment in a park under the stars. “I’ve spent so much of my life searching,” he says, taking your hands in his. “But with you, I’ve found everything I’ll ever need. Will you marry me?” His hands are shaking, but his voice is steady, full of hope and love.

The Ceremony: Tim looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. His vows are deeply personal: “You are my greatest discovery, the love I didn’t know I was looking for. I promise to love you with the same care and dedication I’ve put into everything I’ve ever valued—because nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do.” He kisses your hand after slipping the ring on, his eyes misty with tears.

Married Life: Tim’s love is gentle but constant. He checks in on you throughout the day with texts like, “How’s my favorite person?” and stays up late just to watch movies with you. On nights when he’s overwhelmed, he pulls you close and whispers, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Proposal: Bruce’s proposal is understated but breathtaking. In a quiet corner of Wayne Manor, with a fire crackling in the background, he kneels before you. “ I’m not exactly good with words but…..I’ve faced many things in my life, but nothing has been as terrifying—or as wonderful—as loving you. You’ve changed me in ways I didn’t know were possible. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” His voice is steady, but his eyes are full of emotion. (He kinda proposes the same he did with Andrea Beaumont poor guy gets a bit of flashbacks 😭😭)

The Ceremony: Bruce’s vows are simple but deeply moving: “In my darkest moments, you were my light. In my loneliest nights, you were my solace. I vow to be your partner, your protector, and your greatest love for as long as I live.” His hands linger on yours during the ring exchange, as if he can’t believe you’re real.

Married Life: Bruce loves quietly but fiercely. He kisses your forehead every morning and holds your hand under the table during dinners. On difficult days, he pulls you into his arms and whispers, “You’re my everything. I couldn’t do this without you.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

another childhood friends to lovers believer???? YES YES YES!!!! can i please request bakugou and reader moving in together, and reader shows him a memory box she's kept since they were kids...like photos, random trinkets he got her, pressed flowers, birthday cards...and he's like one second away from bursting into tears, because this is 2 decades worth of love (and many more to come) 😭🥹💗 thank you, mwah x 💖

memory box !

you take a trip down memory lane..

a/n : OH. MY GOD. I literally Had to write this this is genuinely adorable anon you are SMACKING. i lub this

cw: literally all fluff, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TORAGAHAHEHG, katsuki gets emotional quickly and i live by this, lmk if i missed sum !

“oi !” katsuki calls out from behind you “do i throw this out or not ?”

you look back, only to see a little red box in his hands. your little red box.

you shoot up, dropping the clothes you were stacking in your shared dresser. “no, don’t!” you reach out and hold your arms up, katsuki looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowing harder.

he shakes your box around, bringing his ear to it to hear the rattling and clinking of the objects inside. “what the hell is in this thing ?”

“don’t shake it around like that !” you shriek, ripping the box out of your boyfriend hands and leaving him shocked. you smile to yourself, slowly sitting down on the wooden floors of your new apartment. your new apartment with katsuki.

“i never actually showed you this, huh.. ?” you watch as he follows you after a moment of looking at you like you’ve grown a second head, crouching down next to you with eyes fixed on your little shoe box. you remove the lid and immediately a sense of nostalgia shoots through you, you hadn’t looked at this for a while now.

“this is my memory box, i’ve had it for years.. i think since i was..what, seven ?” you wonder out loud, you’d definitely had it for a long, long time. katsuki sits next to you silently while you excitedly look through it.

“oh yeah, definitely seven—look this is the friendship bracelet i made for us !” you exclaim excitedly. it’s definitely more than a bit worn, that was the main reason you put it in this box, it was the first item you’d put in there.

you’d made one for you and one for katsuki, using your precious loom band box set you’d gotten for christmas. you’d used up all of your orange and black for it and worn yours until it started fraying. you almost cried when one of the bands snapped and you’d gotten too big for it, or it had just gotten too little for you. you refused to throw it away and found a random empty shoe box to put it in, and the rest was history.

“oh, and these are left over tickets from when we went to the fair, my keychain you got me from the aquarium—i remember you begged your mom for it.” you laugh, begged was an understatement. you remember how mitsuki pulled him away because he was causing a scene, you didn’t understand why he was so insistent on getting a souvenir, you had a good day as you all walked around looking at fish and katsuki dragging you around by the hand like he built the place himself. you remember how excited he got when you got to the shark exhibit.

you didn’t get it, until he stopped you when you were ready to leave with your own parents, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and avoiding your gaze as he stretched his little arms out and wordlessly offered you a little penguin keychain, mumbling something about how you looked happy when you saw them, ears pink while his mom smirked behind him, his father smiled down at you both kindly.

that was the first present he’d ever bought for you. with his mom’s money of course, you giggle at your own thoughts. but he’d still gotten it for you because he thought it’d make you happy. it was your treasure and you wore it on your bag for years until it started getting dirty, and you’d hid it in your shoebox to keep it safe.

you suddenly realize your boyfriend’s been awfully unlike himself for the past few minutes, silently blinking at the contents of your box and now at your little keychain.

you suddenly feel a bit self conscious, maybe he thought it was weird..

you blink in surprise when he reaches for your penguin chain and you offer it to him. it’s a bit brownish now, having lost its shine over the years. he runs his thumb over the fuzzy faux fur.

“thought you forgot about this..” he mumbles to himself.

your eyes shoot wide. “wha—no way ?!”

“ya stopped wearing it on your bag so i thought you got rid of it.” he doesn’t look angry, simply observing the chain, letting it dangle in the air.

“i just didn’t want it to get any dirtier than it clearly already is” you joked. you’re in deep now, shuffling around for more items in your box. katsuki joins you this time, pulling out an old picture.

“holy shit.” he breathes. you catch a peek at what he’s looking at only to see the both of you.

“woah, we were so small !” you giggle. it was a picture of your grade school entrance ceremony. you remember katsuki stubbornly refusing to take it and it took his mom about ten minutes to get him to stay put and take the shot. you’re all smiles, waving at the camera like you’d been instructed to and gripping katsuki’s hand. said little boy had an angry, angry frown on his face, sticking his tongue out at the camera.

“you’re cheeks were huge.” you laugh, katsuki sits down properly to nudge your shoulder with a huff. “shaddup,” he says, though there was no real bite to his words. “you weren’t any better than me.” you laugh some more and continue to pull things out. “where’d you even get this ?” he asks.

“your mom gave me a copy.”

“fuckin—of course she did.”

there’s a blurry picture you’d managed to take of katsuki when you’d gotten your first polaroid camera, and some pictures from when you’d convinced him to get in a photo-booth from your first date at the fair. dozens of birthday cards he’d written for you, you’re tempted to read them all right now but you worry katsuki might get embarrassed and actually throw the box out, so you’ll do that later.

the flowers he’d plucked out of the ground one random afternoon at his house, a rock he'd given you because it looked cool, a couple of seashells you found at the beach together, a dried up four leaf clover he claimed would bring you good luck, the container of the lip balm you were wearing when he kissed you for the first time. years worth of memories all in your little shoebox.

“fuck, you really kept all this stuff..” you hear katsuki mutter. you turn to see him still with that elementary school picture in hand, staring at it thoughtfully.

“course i did.” you hum, leaning against his side. “i spent all of my childhood with you suki, that’s unforgettable to me. i wanted to make sure i wouldn’t ever forget how much you mean to me.” katsuki’s eyes fix yours as you continue talking. and you realize how they slowly turn glossier. he realizes when you do and quickly ducks his head, scoffing to himself but a sniffle slips out.

“hey..” he shakes his head, you don’t continue, only reaching to hold him in your palms. he shoves his cheek against one, chuckling to himself.

“shush.” he mutters, voice cracking, his eyes remain shut to not let anything slip. he presses a kiss to your skin, grabbing at your wrist. "you're gonna be the fuckin' end of me, y'know ?" you laugh, rubbing your thumb against his skin, you feel him sigh against your palm.

"love you."

you smile "i love you too" you whisper back. "so, you still wanna throw it out ?" you joke, katsuki's eyebrows furrow.

"fuck, no." he asserts "it's staying here, an' i'll give you more shit to fill it up with."

and you truly couldn't be more excited, starting a new chapter of your life with the boy that had shared it all with you. you want your shoe box to be filled to the brim with more and more memories of you both, all of them just as close to your heart as the last.

"hmm," you hum "can't wait."

taglist :

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[comicaurora]

Hey, sorry if you’ve been asked this before, but I have ADHD and I’ve been following your comic for years and just now have started to write my own comic (partially because you really inspired me). But I’m really struggling with staying on the project even when it’s boring and getting myself to work on it in the first place. Do you have any tips on how to keep your brain invested or just to make yourself do the work at all?

I have excellent news, I literally just figured out something really important about this.

So when you're an ADHD kiddo or otherwise have difficulty staying on task in a structured environment where Task is the Priority, the main way people try to MAKE you stay on task is by removing your access to anything that is not The Task. No phone, no TV, no doodling, no going outside, etc. In practice, this just makes us miserable because it takes the boredom that's always simmering around a 2 or 3 and cranks it all the way up to 11. In the same way that you would have difficulty staying on task if you were in physical pain, this crushing existential monotony makes it very difficult to work. The work might get done simply because you have no other options, but it will not be done quickly or well, and it will take a while to recover from how much it hurt.

What I realized earlier this week is I caught myself doing this to myself. I had 42 pages of background colors to do, and I thought to myself "this sounds really tedious, but I suppose I have nothing better I can do." And I realized what I'd just thought, and got very alarmed.

Because back when I was an ADHD kiddo imprisoned by school scheduling and a million little factors that keep children immobile and restrained, I couldn't stop thinking about how big and exciting the world was, and how much I wanted to be anywhere but here. When I was feeling really crushed in I'd pick a random spot on the maps on my wall and just imagine being there instead of my bedroom. This was the impetus behind almost all of my creative energy. I've said it before - anything is a prison if you can't leave, and being in a prison makes it easy to imagine how amazing things could be outside of it. Aurora's initial worldbuilding was forged in the crucible of fifth grade misery. My enthusiasm for art and my creative drive are inextricable from my sense of wonder and yearning for excitement in the real world. Not escapism, but appreciation. Wonders unimaginable are out there, and I gain just as much joy seeking them out as I do conjuring them up in my head and sharing them with all of you.

So now that I'm a grown-up with actual freedom in every way I've been able to get, the idea that I was staying on task by making myself believe the world was small and not worth seeing was extremely alarming. It could keep me on task for an afternoon, but at the cost of slowly extinguishing the thing that made me want to make art in the first place - the hunger to experience and draw inspiration from all the myriad complexities in the world.

So what I've been doing is I've been purposefully and intentionally taking excursions whenever I catch myself thinking "I could take a break but it wouldn't be worth it, it's the same outdoors as always, I'll be uncomfy and unproductive and tired." Because that is never true. Every time I've put down the stylus and gone out, I've been renewed in one way or another, and when I come back to comfort fully recharged I get a lot of shit done. Because it is easier to work on anything if you remember why you wanted to make it in the first place, and it is self-defeating misery to just lock yourself in with it and tell yourself you're a bad person if you can't get it done.

I honestly don't know how widely applicable this is. I have worse wanderlust than anyone I know, so for me this has always been modeled as imprisonment vs freedom. I've also been extremely lucky to find myself in a profession that lets me set my own pace on literally everything I do. But I genuinely believe that when it comes to making art with ADHD, you need to give yourself freedom to move laterally, not just in the direction of obvious forward progress. We don't think linearly in any other part of our lives - art is no different.

[gtgbabie0]

-Benjicot Blackwood x smallfolk!reader

{The Realm seems to have spiralled into disarray, Benjicot makes promises of protecting you}

Short and sweet because I can’t help myself, Enjoy my lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The days seem much longer since the crowning of Aegon Targaryen, the Realm quickly swearing their fealty to whatever side could offer up the best deal or come across as the most threatening. Men were quick to take up swords, training all through the day and deep into the night.

Benjicot was not exempt from this, immediately following suit. Although it came naturally to him, a sword in his hand gave him a boost of confidence like you’ve never seen before and suddenly he was ready to take off into battle with an eagerness that would put anyone on edge.

It took up most of his time, unfortunately. The growing space between the pair of you was noticeable, you wouldn’t hold it against him, you couldn’t. Especially not when he visits you at the end of every day with a boyish grin and messy hair.

“Missed you today.” He breaks the silence, standing awkwardly at the doorway, watching you potter around the small kitchen.

Several moments pass and you still don’t even give him a glance, focused rather stubbornly on the task of scrubbing down the already pristine countertops. He makes a popping noise with his lips repeatedly, trying to gauge a reaction or at the very least your gaze.

With a groan he steps over to the dress you have been working tirelessly on, you have a talent for weaving threads and fabrics with your very hands, crafting the most beautiful dresses for the pretty ladies of the Vale for a rather pretty sum.

“Do not touch that with your filthy hands unless you wish to spend coin on new lace.” You tell him, turning around to meet his grin.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your lips from curling into a traitorous smile, the sight of him all dirtied and bloodied looked so out of place in the backdrop of pastel colours and the softest fabrics.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, allowing you to tug him over to the wash basin with a chuckle that passes through his chapped lips.

His expression softens as he watches the way your gentle hands begin to wash the mud and blood from his own, so much more delicate than his, not sullied by violence and battle, no, they only knew needlework and he vows to keep it that way.

“I said I missed you today.” He repeats his earlier statement, tilting his head slightly towards yours to meet your eyes.

“I suppose I should be grateful then, Lord Blackwood.” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth, despite the fact that there was no malice behind them, but still, that doesn't stop the regret that immediately swells up inside your chest at the deflated look he gives you.

“I sense I’ve done something wrong, have I?…” he treads carefully, his eyes searching your expression as your hands carefully work to free them of muck.

You shake your head, drying off his hands as you stare down at them with a troubled look. “No… forgive me I have been rather on edge as of late.”

He hums in understanding at your words, glancing around the room, trying to think about the right thing to say, before finally looking back down at you. In truth, he has never been good at this, words, but for you, he’ll try.

“You got me and I’m better than anyone in battle, you’ve seen it yourself, I’ll protect you.” He states with so much confidence in his tone you can’t help but chuckle, it was true he became a wildly different person on the battlefield, a man possessed by the thrill.

You avert your eyes to the sword that stands, leaning up against the wall with your brows pinched together in worry. Benjicot’s hands immediately cup either side of your face with care, the feeling of his calloused hands keeps your mind from drifting off to every worst possible scenario.

“Hey, look at me.” He whispers, tipping your head up ever so gently. “If anything happens you’ll have refuge at Raventree.” He promises, his tone carrying a seriousness that he does not always have.

“You sound so sure they’ll just take me in…” You whisper, unsure if you’d be welcomed at all.

“I will demand it, and so will my Aunt, she loves you especially after you made her that riding jacket.” His words warm your heart, a soft smile gracing your lips at the memory of Alysanne, the gratefulness of her tone and the excitement in her eyes.

A warm smile spreads across your lips, his rough hands still cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing across Westeros, the pads of his thumbs caressing the space under your eye.

“Now, no more worrying, hmm?” He announces, pressing a kiss against your forehead with a smirk as you agree with a small whispered ‘Alright’

The pair of you soon find comfort in the warmth of your bed, listening to him ramble on vividly about his day, his hands moving all over the place to get his point across and for the time being everything seems to be peaceful.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi! Can i request for reader x batboys where they’re dating but reader doesn’t know they’re vigilantes. One day they ( as vigilantes) flirt with her then reader tells them that she’s happily taken. Thank you!

I’m only doing dick and Jason cuz my brain doesn’t know what to put for Tim or Damian. And this is probably a boat load of words that make no fucking sense when reading it, so I apologise.

Jason

‘You look lost sweetheart.’ You heard from above you only to see the silhouette of the vigilante red hood.

‘I can assure you I’m not.’ You replied straightforward, wanting nothing more to get home and cuddle up to Jason in your shared bed, after all it had been a long day and you weren’t in the mood to be chatted up by anyone, you were loyal to Jason no matter what.

‘I’m only trying to help.’ Red Hood tells you as he dropped down from the roof and landed safely in front of you before standing up to his full height.

‘I understand that but when you added sweetheart I’m naturally going to assume you’re attempting to hit on me.’ You said with your arms crossed over your chest. ‘I’m more than happily taken by the sweetheart man I’ve ever known.’ You added as a boast because it was more than the truth, and you could spend the entire week talking about how much better Jason was then any other man in existence.

Jason could feel his heart melt when you said that and was half tempted to rip his helmet off to kiss you senselessly, but he decided to be cheeky and milk this for all it’s worth if it meant hearing you speak about him in high praise. ‘Oh yeah? Does he treat you right?’ He asked as he leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, reading himself to hear whatever you had to say.

‘He treats me as though I made the stars in the sky and looks at me like I did too,’ you began smiling as you remembered the fondness in Jason’s eyes whenever you did something mundane, ‘I could just be standing there in a plain shirt and a pair of his boxers, looking like absolute shit but he would still tell me I looked stunning.’ You added as you felt the smile stretch further across your lips.

God you loved that teddy bear of a man so much you didn’t know where to put it most of the time.

You noticed that Red Hood didn’t say anything but that was because beneath the helmet Jason was fighting through urge to hold you in arms and never let you go, smother your face in kisses because of how fucking cute you were being without trying, however he knew that he better get back home before you did if he ever wants to do any of that and so he clears his throat and says. ‘It’s good that he does treat you like that, you deserve it more than you know, I bet he’d be devastated if something were to happen to you, go to war even.’

You furrowed your brows as Red Hoods words before shrugging. ‘I mean…yeah I guess, he’d do anything to get me back. I hear him whispering it when he thinks I’m asleep.’ You add as you felt a sense of familiarity from the vigilante but decided to brush it off when you checked the time on your phone and winced. ‘I should get going and I’m sure you-‘ you went to look over to where you saw the vigilante last, only to be greeted with the sight of nothing. ‘-do too…’ you trailed off before shrugging your shoulders and continuing on your way home.

Unaware of the fact that Jason was still watching you from the rooftops above, knowing damn well that he would indeed go to war for you, his beloved little chipmunk.

Dick

‘What’s someone as pretty as you doing in a place like this? It’s dangerous you know.’ Nightwing practically purred.

‘I’ve walked through here multiple times before and I can tell you it’s safer than most in Gotham.’ You told him, crossing your arms, unamused.

Nightwing raised his hands in defence. ‘Just trying to look out for a cutie like you is all, no need to bite my head off.’ Dick had a feeling that something might happen on your walk home tonight and decided to keep constant tabs on you the entire night as Nightwing. He could tell you were tired and just outright done with everything but he’d rather you be safe on your journey home than not, regardless of how safe your route home was.

‘I’m pretty sure there’s other people you could be saving instead of flirting with me. I’m taken for your information, and happily so by the most prettiest and albeit goofiest man alive.’ You told him with a smile as your mind drifted to imagining Dick sitting in your shared bed with Hayley in his sleepwear, snoring loudly despite trying to stay up for your return.

‘Pretty? How so?’ Nightwing asked as he eagerly leant in forward to hear you. Dick just wanted an excuse to hear you gush about him without knowing that he was right in front of you.

You sighed at the aspect of having to spend even more time with a vigilante that seemingly didn’t take the hint. ‘He’s got a smile that could light up an entire city for future generations, a laugh so pretty and addicting that you’d be more then willing to make yourself look like an idiot just to hear it again, and he’s got a beautiful set of eyes that you could get lost in no matter what because they’re just so…enriched in colour.’ You finished, the image of Dick’s gorgeous eyes embedded into your mind that left you feeling seen and loved.

Dick couldn’t help but smile at your words, not knowing what to expect when he asked you about how pretty he was, now that he had he could feel a burst of warmth within his chest that now encased his entire body. You were too sweet and kind for your own good and Dick just wanted to keep you safe from everything that Gotham represented, whether it was out of his innate selfishness to keep you for himself, to keep a bright light of his own in a twin as dark and depressing as Gotham he wasn’t sure but all he knew was that he wanted to keep you in his life as long as he possibly could.

‘Sounds like you love him very much.’ He says after a brief period of silence.

‘I’m more than anything.’ You replied without hesitation. Your hand reaching into your coat pocket, thumb caressing the cute charm Dick had bought you to add onto your keys, it helped you calm down in certain situations because it meant that no matter how far apart you may seem you still had a piece of Dick close by. ‘Which is why I really want to get home, so I can see him and our darling dog Hayley.’ You add with a smile when the blue staffy came to mind.

Dick remember where Hayley was before he left to watch over you, fast asleep on your side of the bed, which meant that when you came home you’d have to cuddle up to him as it was proven difficult to wake Hayley up when she had made herself comfortable. However if this meant that Dick got the chance to hold you close to his chest, he’d gladly let Hayley sleep on your side of the bed more often, and he did on multiple occasions.

‘Then I best let you go, don’t wanna keep either of them waiting.’ Nightwing said and you couldn’t help but feel ecstatic at the thought of finally getting to go home to your little makeshift family. You didn’t know how much longer you were willing to stand there when you knew Hayley was waiting for you impatiently with a boat load of face licks with your name on it.

‘That’s probably for the best because both of them can tend to get a little whiny when I’m even a second late.’ You laughed to yourself as dick couldn’t help but internally pout at this, he didn’t get whiny when you were late did he? He pushed this thought aside and smiled as he watched you walk away, keeping his eyes on your for a couple seconds longer to make sure you were okay, before realising that he should better beat you home before you find him not there in bed and quickly rushed up to the rooftops and ran like his life depended on it.

He wanted to keep his secret safe for a little while longer before admitting everything to you just yet.

[pathologicalreid]

merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.

in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol

To: xreader@gmail.com From: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com Subject: Merry Christmas

Hey,

Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.

Good afternoon,

Much too formal.

Hello,

Too rigid.

Darling,

I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.

Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  

Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.

That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.

You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.

There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?

I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.

It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.” One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.

Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.

I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.

I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.

Merry Christmas,

Spencer

He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.

To: Spencer.Reid@gmail.com From: mailer-daemon@googlemail.com Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)

Message blocked.

Your message to xreader@gmail.com has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.