#but can't hide that shit from fester

[cryptiddeer]

*Goes on Tumblr for a distraction from The Horrible News*

*Everyone is posting non-stop about The Horrible News*

*doom scrolling is fucking inevitable*

[artbiter]

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

[brucewaynehater101]

Tim with hannaki disease

spending his childhood choking on flowers

Barely able to breathe rejection after rejection

Jason is attacking him at the tower and he can’t stop coughing out flowers

when dick gives Damian Robin, Tim leaves the cave spitting out petals

imagine if he died of suffocation during the Bruce quest

Fuck. I love hanahaki disease.

Tw: death, blood, asphyxiation, fictional disease, dead body description, gore

For those of y'all unaware, it's a completely fictional disease where having unrequited love results in the person growing flowers in their chest. It's usually romantic, but I prefer the platonic versons (especially child-parent angst, holy fuck).

I've seen two types of hanahaki:

The love is actually unrequited

The person only perceives the love as being unrequited

Either way, the progression is as follows:

Person coughs up one petal

They start coughing up more and usually blood

They cough up an entire blossom

They die trying to cough up the entire flower (blossom and stem)

There are four outcomes to hanahaki disease, depending on what rules you are working with:

Love becomes requited

Person dies

They have a surgery to remove their ability to have feelings

They lose (voluntarily or not) their memories about their unrequited love

Some people play with flower meanings of the petals being coughed up. I fucking love those versions so much.

Let's get into the AU! The timeline is mine to fuck around with, so excuse any non-canon progressions.

~~~~

Tim has chronic hanahaki disease from his parents. They visit often enough to quell the worst symptoms and mitigate the damage, but they don't stick around enough (or show enough constant attention) for the petals to go away.

Janet once asked Tim if he'd like to get the surgery. Tim said no. Janet respected that choice and never asked again even though Tim was like nine at the time. It also becomes a fear of his. He wakes up in cold sweat at the phantom idea of just not being able to love anyone. It terrifies him, even if the feeling of asphyxiation is the only other option.

When Janet dies and Tim becomes Robin, he does his best to hide his condition from Bruce. It worsens, from the way Tim adores and loves the Bats, but Tim manages.

It's a rough few years, but slowly, the ice begins to melt. The Waynes show Tim more and more affection. YJ also shower him in so much care to the point that Tim has days of uninterrupted breathing.

It's a novel but welcome feeling.

Jack waking up from the coma complicates shit. His condition worsens again, but it's manageable.

Until Tim's sixteenth birthday.

The teen will never admit, but that test nearly fucking killed him. Bruce never finds out how close he was to killing his Robin, but Tim knows. He'll never forget how thorns scraped along his throat at the idea that he can't trust anyone. He'll never rid himself of the intimate knowledge of how blossoms taste in his mouth and the sickly sweet smell of blood mixed with flower petals.

Tim has to quit Robin, for his safety, health, and as a "fuck you" to Bruce, but realizes he can't keep in contact with Dick, Alfred, or Barbara without it. He can't contact his team.

He has to go back, so he does.

Tim's not sure if it's better or worse that Bruce didn't know about the hanahaki. If the man did, would he still have done the test? Due to him never showing remorse or guilt for his actions, the teen doesn't know.

The question pesters him even when his dad finds out about Robin.

It plagues him through Steph becoming Robin and dying.

It festers into his bones when, while wearing those same damn colors, he hears his father die.

That is one or many reasons "Uncle Eddie" was created.

Tim can't quite trust Bruce, but he finds himself still loving the father-like figure in his life. He finds himself forgiving him. He leans into the hair ruffles, shoulder pats, and gruff words of affection. He lets himself be loved.

Then, an undead asshole in a gleaming red bucket comes to kick Tim's ass. The teen can't help but laugh at the way his life bounces between breathing and dying at the drop of a hat.

He's just barely able to hide the flowers from both Red Hood and the Titans.

A little assassin appears, and each attack brings a petal.

Each new death hampers Tim's ability to breathe. Tim tries, but it's so fucking hard. How is he supposed to live without them?

With the ticklish scrape of petals, Tim doesn't think he's supposed to.

Bruce isn't dead. Tim knows, with every fiber of his being, that Bruce can't be dead. Tim won't survive if he is.

Even if Tim loses everything, even if these damn fucking flowers consume him, at least his death will have a purpose.

That's what he tells himself as he lies in a pool of blood beneath the stars. The sand at his back is soft in comparison to the stem piercing his throat and tongue. The sound of his choking is joined by the bubbling wheezing of Pru.

Ra's peers down at the body already set with rigor mortis. Tim's jaw is pried apart by a bouquet of yellow carnations dripping in blood.

The demon head hums at the sight, a dangerous gleam to his eyes. With the flick of a hand, two assassins grab the young detective's corpse. The other three bodies are taken as well.

Tim's eyes fling open as the teen gasps for air.

It's wrong. It's wrong. It's all wrong. He's empty.

He's surrounded in green.

Oh fuck.

For awhile, Tim just soaks in the soft expansion of his lungs. He marvels at their capability.

He can't remember a time when he's been able to breathe so easily. It's enchanting and allots the teen a giddy sort of relief.

Through the destruction of both the Spiders and the LoA, he finds himself taking small moments to just breathe. It's a simple joy he can't help but partake in.

Tim logically knows there's a price. His breaths cost him, though he doesn't know their price. He should be dead and buried within the flowers.

He is neither.

He is alive. He is free (from the petals. It takes him a little bit to become free of Ra's).

Tim brushes aside these valid and alarming concerns to focus on his goals: escape, take down Ra's, and derail whatever retaliation occurs.

So that's what Tim does. He ignores the insistent sense of wrongness and focuses on the task at hand. He coordinates his friends and family. He faces down Ra's. He gets kicked out of a window.

With a grim smile, his body goes lax and his eyes flutter shut

He's done.

When Tim springs up from unconsciousness, Steph's voice reassures him he's safe. She tells him he's in the batcave.

The tension to bleeds from his body as Damian mutters a demand. Tim's eyes dart from Robin to Batgirl to Batman (Dick) to Alfred.

That sinking feeling of wrongness returns.

Dick's eyes are trained on the teen as he asks Tim, "How did you know I'll be there to save you?"

It's obvious the man is worried. It's obvious he's so fucking glad he caught his younger brother.

The lie falls from Tim's lips as smooth as any truth, "You're my brother, Dick. You'll always be there for me."

Dick's face brightens with fond relief.

Tim watches. He observes the reactions of his older brother. He catalogs the effect of his words on the man he's admired and loved for thirteen years.

He notes all of this.

And he feels nothing.

[dindjarindiaries]

Your Needs, My Needs

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: "Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?" "I dropped everything to be with you! Everything!" & "Don't you want the same?"

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

Din stumbles towards you, and you give him a worried once-over at the unsteady movement. He doesn't appear to have any serious injuries on the surface, and the bodies strewn on the floor around him prove that the fight alone could have made him exhausted—especially since he spent stars know long fighting them on his own before you showed up.

You holster your blaster and keep your gaze on Din's visor as he approaches you, awaiting his usual polite nod and gentle thank-you. Instead, he stands with his gloved hands curled into fists at his sides, his helmet tilting before he addresses you in a tight tone. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You scoff and raise an eyebrow. There's no way he's being serious. "A 'thank you' would suffice."

"No." Din's response is curt. He points a gloved finger towards your chest. "You're not supposed to be here."

Your jaw hits the floor, bracing for the impact of your heart that follows it. "Really?" You cross your arms and hope the gesture hides your hurt. "I save your ass, and that's the first thing you choose to say to me?"

Din swings his helmet to the side, readjusting his stance amidst his audacity to act angry. "I told you to stay behind and rest while I got this information." He faces you again and punctuates each word through a tightened jaw. "You're. Not. Supposed. To. Be. Here."

"Yet, here I am." You laugh, but the sound is curt, not amused. "And had I not come here, you probably would've died. What then, Din?"

He shrugs. "It would've been a warrior's death." He adds a nod. "This is the Way."

You gawk at him for a moment. Your jaw ultimately snaps shut as you shake your head at him. "No, no. This is bantha shit." You take a step closer to him and lift your own finger in accusation. "You were taking longer than I expected, so I did the right thing and came to see if you were okay. Now, you're angry at me, because I didn't let you die?"

Din's helmet straightens as if he insists on speaking, but you don't give him the chance.

"If the roles were reversed, you would've killed anyone in your path to get to me, right?"

Din remains silent. His weight is set on one hip, his visor never straying from your gaze. You suddenly begin to feel overcome by a wave of fear as you repeat yourself.

"Right?"

"That's different. I signed up for this life. It was information I needed." Din points his finger into his own chest this time. "It was reckless of you to risk your own life trying to intervene."

"Reckless?" You can't help laughing again, your hands slapping your thighs as you walk back and circle around to compose yourself. "Stars, Din, doesn't it get exhausting playing the role of the honorable hero? The person who's so self-sacrificial, but refuses to let anyone do the same?" You cross your arms again and narrow your eyes. "That's not how this works."

Din's hands rest on his hips. "How what works?"

Your chest stalls for a moment, and your gaze falls to the floor. This isn't how you wanted this to go. You've been picturing this moment for so long, and this isn't at all how you expected it to happen. "You know what."

Din's arms slowly fall back to his sides as he takes a step forward. "How what works?"

Your chin nearly meets your shoulder as you hide from him, your eyes squeezing closed before you force yourself to face him with all the desperation and rage that festers within your chest. "Love, Din." You throw your hands up in the air. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Are you happy?"

Din's already stopped in his tracks, and after a long moment of anticipatory silence, he starts to shake his helmet. "No."

You huff, the pain rattling you in a wound worse than anything a blaster could give you. "No?"

Din's visor falls to the floor. "No. You weren't supposed to..." He can't even say it. He shifts his weight between his feet. "You can't."

"Again, Din, that's not how this works." You're thriving on your bitterness, now, as you take a step away from him. "And who are you to tell me how to feel?"

Din's helmet snaps up to meet your gaze. "I'm not... I didn't mean..." He lets out a frustrated sigh of his own, his gloved hands resting on his hips again as his helmet swings to the side. "You're not supposed to because it's dangerous. I'm still a wanted man, with or without the kid." His voice lowers at that, and for just a short moment, you pity him. "You shouldn't be tied to someone like that." He finds your gaze again and nods in resolve. "You won't be."

Your heart begins to shatter into painful fragments, and you let your agony show. "So, that's it?" Every memory of your time spent with Din hits you in an instant, blurring your vision in a way that's either rooted in anger or heartbreak. "I'm honest with you about this, and after everything, it's just... goodbye?"

Din looks back down at his boots. His modulated voice is so low, you nearly miss it. "It's for the best."

"You don't even have to feel the same way. I don't give a shit anymore." Your tears dissipate from the heat of your anger as you go on. "But for you to just assume you can put an end to this, to our partnership—whatever the hell it is—in an instant is something I won't allow. After all this time, Din? Really?" You close the distance towards him and jab your finger against his beskar cuirass. "I dropped everything to be with you! Everything!"

"I—."

"No. It's my turn to say no." Your finger taps the bottom of his helmet, urging him to face you. You can only hope he feels ashamed at the pure fury in your gaze. "You don't have to feel the same, but I know you do, because you've told me. You didn't have to use your words to do that. I'm not a fool, Din, and that's one of the reasons why you love me so much."

You give Din a moment to say something, but he doesn't. He's frozen in place, and you take that as your cue to go on.

"You've let me stay, and that alone says more than you ever could with your words. You never stay in one place, or with one person, for long—and that's something you have told me."

You furrow your brow, now painting on all the genuine longing you feel towards him.

"All I want is to the live the life we have together the way we want. No more holding back. No more dancing around the spark that's been there since the beginning. Just you and me." You search his visor the best you can, your voice lowering to a whisper. "Don't you want the same?"

Din's armored shoulders rise in a visible breath, though all other parts of him remain still. After a long moment, he speaks, his voice just as soft as your own. "There is nothing in this galaxy I want more than that." He sounds wounded as he goes on. "But just like with the kid, I've learned that I can't have what I want if it means someone will get hurt, or if there's something or someone better for them."

Din exhales, a broken sound that makes you physically resist the urge to hold him. His helmet looks away from you again.

"I'm used to it. And one day, I'll be okay with it."

You take a gentle hold of his helmet, making his visor face you again. Your thumbs brush over his beskar cheeks. "Well, I'm not." You lift your brow at him. "Do I get to have a choice?"

Din's gloved hands wrap around your wrists. "I would never take your freedom away from you."

"Then I'm making the choice to love you, and that includes everything that comes along with you. The bad, the good, I don't care, Din." You give his helmet a gentle shake. "I know what I signed up for. I've known." You lower his helmet to your forehead. "I'm all yours, Din, if you want me."

Din's hands slowly slide from your wrists towards your face. He gives his helmet an aimless shake, asking his question as if he can't fathom the thought of it happening. "And what if something happens to you?"

You smile with the most reassurance you can muster, whispering the words he holds close to his chest. "This is the Way."

Din pauses for a moment, then—in the slowest and most tender way possible—he pulls you into his embrace. His arms support your back and keep you tight against him, and your arms wrap around his neck. Your eyes close as you bury your face in his shoulder, each broken fragment of your heart piecing back together at the warmth of his affection.

After silence persists for longer than you can handle, you dare to ask the question that's holding the last piece of your heart back. "Do you want me to—."

"—Stay." Din answers the question before you can ask it, his voice a desperate plea. "Please."

You smile and hold him tighter. "I always will."

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

[bigfatbimbo]

Hey there! @hazbinhotelmollykisser here yet again, with the promised bill rambles :)

Forgive me if the following words sound like nonsense, I'm trying lol

SO. I'll be covering the bill with a more powerful reader and sub bill because your works have changed my brain chemistry, masochist bill because I'M GOING INSANE AN I NEED TO BE SEDATED, and bill with a reader that likes to tease him (with a more powerful reader version and a just a human version) because I need to study his reactions to teasing like I'm Stanford studying like... Science + math = triangles or something.

・Bill x More powerful reader

So I actually made an entire oc for this literally as soon as I finished reading the og post, which I will refrain on ranting abt, but the idea of a reader that's more powerful than bill is fascinating to me.

Because like, he's bill so he's obviously gonna try to get under your skin, but imagine a reader that sees his attempts to annoy them and just... Like laughs? A reader that finds his attempts almost endearing? Reverting whatever bill did back to before with just a snap and maybe a passing comment about his mischief.

It would drive him mad I think, he'd be rlly annoyed and pissy about it.

Or alternatively, a reader that does get angry when he tries to annoy them, (a loud and aggressive angry or a quiet festering angry both yielding different reactions from bill) and Bill takes it as motivation to keep annoying you (and it's definitely only because he thinks it's funny and totally definitely no other reason).

(Holy shit this is already getting long)

・Sub!Bill

So obviously a brat right? Like very obviously? We all agree on that.

And this next bit will probably just be regurgitating your points because I can't stop having the same opinions as you,

I personally need to see any + every version of bill cipher getting taken down a peg. Like I need to just. Ruin his life a little. Like I need to cause him mental peril and make it up to him (but actually it's only for me) by making him beg for what he wants and not giving him anything unless he asks out loud because "well I'm not a mind reader" (more powerful reader probably IS but shhhh..)

I want him to cry and beg (as do most people who read your blog honestly)

・masochist bill

Thinking about the way that bill literally talks about going out of his way to inflict pain onto the bodies he "possesses" (? Idk if that's the word I should use) made me think. Like too much thinking too many thoughts, to the point that I at multiple points almost wrote a small drabble in my notes app about it. (I would've if I could think of any words to write down when I need them 😭)

But like he's definitely some kind masochist right?

I can't think of any scenarios for human reader he made a deal with and bill for this category but imagine with me pls, a HUMAN reader, that he made a deal with (is actively trying to manipulate), causing him PAIN somehow (directly or indirectly), and he... DOSENT MIND? because 1. He's gonna have a mental breakdown because of it probably, and 2. He dosent JUST not mind. It's like EXCITING but not normal exciting.

So basically he'd be freaking out.

And with a reader that's more powerful than him? I think it'd be clear as day. Going hand in hand with the angry reader that's more powerful than him thing above, he would absolutely get off on annoying them until they snap at him (specifically the snap at him part). And when reader notices, they're obviously gonna make fun of him because hes being pathetic lol.

I think I have run out of masochist bill words now so onto the next topic.

・tease reader (human) x bill

My main reason for bringing this up is I love the idea of the powerful bill cipher being.. Well, flustered.

Like maybe when it's triangle form bill its easier to hide for him but if it were human bill reader would be able to tell almost instantly probably.

And more opportunities to make fun of bill for being a pathetic little creature are always good :)

・tease reader (more powerful) x bill

OOWOWHEOEJEIEBSJBSISNDH I love this idea so so SO SO SOSOSOSO MUCH!!!3&:28&:9.

SO MANY MORE OPPORTUNITIES TO TEASE AND NOT GET KILLED :)

Like imagine with me, your teasing bill and he gets all "upset" and probably threatens you, you don't gotta back off, you infact can tease him even more for thinking that he can threaten you. Shheheheheheheh.

I think that's all my words, I seem to have run out.

I hope that big lump of nothing text (800-ish words 😰) was enough to make up for my sudden dissapearence after promising to talk about bill TWO WEEKS AGO

Forgive my probably dogshit spelling and grammar pls

and hope you have a good day/night/whatever!

IUAHAHSHSHSHSHHSHDHSHAHS I LOVE THINGS LIKE THIS IN MY INBOX!!!!! Because it’s like wow, you did all the work for me! 😊

Ugh, this is so good tho. I always love to hear your thoughts, you are one of my FAV anons!!!!!

[bruciemilf]

Factually, I know Bruce is a bad cook. In my wonderland brain, however, he's a baker in some Hell's Kitchen-esque neighborhood, both flourishing and festering down the Narrow's ribs.

Curiously, The Bat seems particularly focused on protecting this joint. And whoever walks in it.

The classic myth of food is that it brings people together; That's the one thing everyone, under the greyscale rainbow in Gotham, has in common. Everyone has to eat, and everyone has to die.

And all kinds of people walk in there.

You get thieves with watchful, observant eyes nemorizing the concise, expert movement of your fingers and wonder how these machines of pain and violance can be delicate enough for sweets.

"I know what you are. I know who you are."

"I'm not exactly hiding. "

" I'm gonna rob you now."

" Take some tuna for Iris while you're at it,"

You get jesters with runny make-up and busted lips and a heartbroken hope in their eyes, crying over their fried ice cream,

" I'm stupid. I know -- I know what he's doing to me. And my mom's voice is just pounding in my ear, every fuckin' day, ' You're letting him, Harley. You're letting him and you deserve it. You should've married that fucking doctor. At least he didn't hit you, he just yelled and screamed and called you nasty names.'

Bruce drizzles some extra rainbow sprinkles on her ice cream. " And that voice is wrong." And he'll keep saying that voice is wrong till the day Harley doesn't like ice cream anymore. And that day doesn't exist.

And slowly, you learn not to be impressed. When you live with wolves, you sharpen your teeth. Dogs do what dogs do; they eat. An angry dog is a hungry dog.

And this boy, with a red scarf over his nose, waving a gun in Bruce's face, is looking plenty angry.

"Just fucking stay there, okay?" He'd probably sound more threatening without the glass tremble in his voice. "I'm just gonna take some cash, and,--"

Bruce's calm is frosty; He's got experience with guns being pointed at his face. " Your safety's on. "

Teal eyes are glossy, shining with feral, living fear, like it's Bruce who has him cornered, backed up to a wall and looming death over him. there's no kids in crime alley.

Whatever they are, they can't afford that title. But he looks exactly how boys in crime alley look; Young and scared and haunted.

"What's your name, honey?"

"...Jason."

" Are you hungry, Jason?"

The way he wolfs down three plates with tears running down his cheek answers Bruce plenty.

"You can have the cash, " I don't really need it, goes unspoken. It already feels slimy enough to take it. The charities and well- filled cups of homeless people don't ease that. "I'm guessing you need it."

"It's for my dad," 'Dad' drips from Jason's lips like liquid hatred, " He told me to rob you cause you never call the cops."

" Calling criminals to stop other criminals seems a little counter-productive, " He needs to do something with his hands; Or he'll take Jason and hug him and drag him to the manor, where Alfred can prepare the fluffiest bed, and the warmest bath. So he's packing him something extra, to take at home.

Still. Hearing Jason laugh makes it worth it.

" You can say you got dinner, too."

" I'm not giving Willis shit, " Willis. One of Harvey's guns. They need a chat about working hazards. " Gonna take this to Dickie and Timmy, thought. Dick's gonna love this..."

And Jason, Bruce comes to find out, doesn't know himself half as good as he knows his siblings.

He learns Timmy, the baby brother, loves to skate, and he's the reason they go to the ER every other Thursday. He learns Dick can never run out of energy; Learns he's running on spite alone and they can't go a day without fighting.

And when Bruce is fighting Nightwing, the newest villain in Gotham, he learns both he and Dick can land the meanest Produnova recorded.

[captain-tch]

Closet (Daryl Dixon x PlatonicFem!Reader)

You had been hiding a part of yourself for years, it only took the world to end to finally speak your truth.

You stood on Aaron and Eric's porch, bracing yourself against the railing. They had prepared dinner for yourself and Daryl, as payment for bringing some spices back from a supply run. It was a lovely gesture, and it made you hate yourself even more when you couldn't stand to be in their company for too long. It was the hand holding, the loving gazes, the inside jokes. It was the way they shared gentle touches, so openly and so in love. It was the kisses and the laughs and the smiles.

It was hard to recognise the nasty feeling festering in your gut. It turned your gaze green and made yourself bitter.

You were jealous.

You shook your head, leaning back, trying to let the night wind wipe your sadness away. You wanted to push past this feeling - Aaron and Eric were lovely people, good people, yet you felt yourself turning sour the longer you spent in their company.

The door clicked softly behind you. You jerked, frantically wiping a hand at your cheeks. You turned, expecting to see Aaron or Eric wondering why you hadn't come back in after twenty minutes, but it was Daryl. You smiled weakly, secretly grateful that you didn't have to endure being in the presence of the lovebirds. Even on their own they managed to ooze cupid's scent.

"Hey." Daryl stood beside you, turning to look up at the night sky. The stars twinkled back. "Beautiful night."

You nodded in agreement, attempting to muster the energy to talk, to explain your disappearance.

"Food was good."

You nodded again.

Daryl sighed, playing with his fingers, tugging softly at the cuticles. "Look, ya know I'm no good at this small talk shit. I think we've been friends long enough to skip that crap, and you've been acting like this ever since we got here. Distant."

You bit your lower lip, taking comfort in gnawing at the skin. Your heart wanted to spill it all, to let loose your truth, but your fear kept you trapped.

"Did Aaron or Eric do somethin' to ya?"

You were that shocked at the thought you snapped your head to his. "No. They've been nothing but kind."

"Then what the hell is it?"

"I -" You averted your gaze, keeping your eyes glued firmly to the wood of the porch. "I can't tell you." You muttered, hating how water splashed on your cheeks. Your heart pounded in your chest.

Daryl reached forward, softly grabbing you under the chin, turning you to face him. You tried to muster a smile, though it did nothing to hide the tears freely pouring down. "You're cryin'."

Your hand moved to your cheek absentmindedly, aggressively wiping the wet away. Defeated, you pulled yourself away from Daryl, slumping to the floor feeling as if the world was trying to pull you down.

A beat of silence passed, then two. You wanted to speak; the ball in your throat choked the words. "Whatever it is, ya can tell me."

You pulled your chin into your knees, shoulders sagging. Your chest felt tight, the possibility of letting the truth pass your lips stealing your breath. But then you spotted Daryl at the edge of your vision, his brows creased in concern. He was your closest friend, your greatest confidant. You had told him about your night terrors, and he slept beside you, a moment away, to protect you from the monsters haunting the land of dreams. You leaned on him when you had killed in self defence. You relied on him to watch your back on runs, and he hadn't failed you yet.

He hadn't outright spoken to you of his past; he had let his lips loosen more around you than anyone else. He showed you the cigarette burns - never his back. You never dared to ask, knowing that was one private terror he would spill in his own time.

This man would never judge you. He would never press for more if you weren't ready, and he definitely would never leave your side. He was your platonic soul mate.

You released a heavy breath, scooting along to make room for him. Your voice was as quiet as a mouse - as a hunter you knew he heard. "I've never told anyone."

Daryl was quiet, accepting your invitation and settling in beside you. He didn't move to comfort you; he sat close enough to know he was there.

You clenched your fingers into your palm, the pain of the nails biting into the skin distracting you for the self destructive thoughts whizzing around in your head. "I'm jealous of them."

"Why?"

He's going to walk away, your brain whispered. He's going to leave you and you will be all alone surrounded by people. He's going to sneer at you and ignore your existence.

A large, calloused hand pried your fingers out of their fists. The skin of your palms cried in relief, sharp indents speckled with blood released into the air. You looked up at Daryl, and at his hand.

You screamed at the voices in your mind, uttering the words you never spoke aloud. "Because they're living their truth, they're not afraid."

Daryl stared at your crumpled form, it taking a moment to sink in. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water - no one had ever told him this kind of thing before, he had no idea how to respond. Turns out Daryl didn't need to worry, because the moment you started talking you unlocked the door you had kept barred shut for years.

"I've known ever since I was a teenager, kept it as quiet as I could. I dated, but it never went past the first date. I couldn't... be myself, and I think it's because I couldn't accept myself, and I think my dates could sense that too." You laughed darkly. "You know how if you were applying for a job, you had to state your sexual orientation? I always put "prefer not to say" as I was afraid to admit to the world that I'm a lesbian." You looked at Daryl, trying to sense any shift in him. He hadn't started cursing you out or walked away. The doubting voices in your head quietened.

You sniffled. "I'm envious of their confidence. Their openness. Is that stupid?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nah, it's not."

"You know what the stupidest thing of all is?" You shook your head, "It's taken until the end of the world to admit out loud that I am a lesbian."

Daryl wrapped his arm around you, bringing you close. "Proud of ya."

You relished his warmth, the warmth of your best friends embrace eradicating those voices for good. It felt as if a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders, and you could tell him about a part of your life you had kept hidden for so long.

"Thanks."

Daryl squeezed the hug tighter around you. "Feel better?"

"Bit."

"Well, come on. Dessert is waiting." Daryl got to his feet, putting his hand out to you.

You gulped, looking at the hand, then him. "You don't think any different of me, do you?"

"Hell nah, you're still a dumbass in my eyes."

You snorted.

"And hey, I can be your wing man."

"I'd love to see that Daryl."

As you walked back into the warmth of Aaron and Eric's home, you felt a peace settle inside you. The conversation didn't solve your insecurity and anxiety, but you felt better having admitted your truth out loud to your best friend.

You were on a long journey to accept yourself, whilst dealing with the trials and tribulations an apocalypse could bring, but in that moment, you were happy.

In your mind you repeated I am a lesbian, a smile forming on your lips.

the walking dead masterlist

[barblaz-arts]

Seen your post about Israel/Palestine which is very good to care about, but I'm not sure everyone in the world are aware how fucked up the whole situation is. People think it's either this or that, but they should support the actual people, not Israel, not Hamas.

People from both sides got hurt, but the ones who were hurting longer in short term historical perspective, are Palestineans, if we take the long term (which only maniacs and fanatics actually care about) those are of course Jews, but it's more of a religion/ideology thing than some actual suffering.

The problem of this lack of knowledge, in my opinion, is that both sides, politically are shit bcs they use people and their feelings as pawns. Hamas has their military bases near civilian objects in Gaza, and at the same time Israel doesn't give more than two fucks about the civilian population, because they state that terrorists are hiding within the population, and Israel just makes attempts to swipe it under the rug a but by allegedly telling people to evacuate. If they wanted peace they should have started this whole bullshit conflict of interests half century ago. But I really have doubts that for them, being a very much newly established country, it was a fully uninfluenced decision. It was a way for the USA and Nato to weed their way into the Middle East and be able to control the situation. They have been getting ready for war for decades, hense females in regular military service, which isn't a thing in countries that don't really wait and want for any war happening, or have a stable way to enlist their immigrants into their military. But that's another topic. I made this example only as a means to explain why it was obvious Israel was getting ready for war. You can hide the actual point under the feminism and such, but it's not about feminism if it's not your right but your responsibility to serve the country. I don't really mind of course, but the militarization of society usually shows what is it going to be in the future. Especially if such militarization isn't sporadic, but been happening gradually over the years.

Back to history, The whole thing with Israel been festering previous decades, and first UK and after that USA allowed it to fester. It was the Osman empire region first (and I don't really like those slavers on principle, because they've been torturing my country with slave trader's raids on religious principle, for couple of centuries which prompted several huge wars to stop it from happening). After the dissolution of the Osman, as far as I remember, UK swooped in and basically did the colonising of sorts, they usually did, with no respect for local population and thinking they're the ruling caste while being unable assimilate the people into their culture because a) you can't make people want what they don't understand b) any more or less peaceful assimilation is when they actually want to be with you as allies and understand why exactly.

After that they synthetically made a country for jews, which is idiotic on its own merit and on everyone's merit. Like, their thing is that you had to be jew BY BLOOD to settle in the country, which is the beginnings of ultra nationalism, that's what I'm thinking. Not that many societies aren't nationalistic, but the sheer level of it is very odd. And the forefathers of the Israel aren't some lgbt activists who shine with rainbows and shit with butterflies, they are orthodox zionists. Which means, that their religion makes them free to kill people of other, opposing religion.

But it doesn't make the Hamas, as in the organisation, in any way clean and clear. They are terrorists, and they don't enjoy anything but sharia law, or their own charter, which states basically Jihad and jew killing. That is a very dangerous thing to support, because it's a very obvious thing - in this kind of tribalistic society that spurs from lack of education and all other good things in life, people with guns and moxie will rule the people who can actually make the whole thing better by promoting cooperation. You literally cannot negotiate with people who say that they will kill you if you're this or that, killing is bad, period. There's no way out of it, and I think we all need to step back and actually look at the reasons of conflict that go way back, not just the today's situation. It may lead us to the fact that, yes, Israel could've existed peacefully if it wasn't being militaristic, but only - only if they were no political powers in surrounding countries that made their goal the cleansing of Palestine from Jews. And why the Jews even started to get there? Not because they came on their own, no, it was a fucking plan by the actual colonisers, when they were more toothy and bold with their actions.

On a side note, that's partially why Russia/Ukraine situation is drastically different, they have deep ties to each other and speak the same language, had ability to talk to each other all these decades while being torn apart and pit against each other by lies about Russian colonisation of them, and lies of how it would be better if they join the EU. All the while, Ukraine was the best in agriculture in Europe before the whole EU and fracturing from the Russian orbit shebang, and now the industry was in shambles, even before the russian invasion. The same goes for their trading fleet - the whole Ussr built Ukraine the trading fleet and most of it was left there after the dissolution. What they did, they sold it out even if they couldve used it and by the 2018 they had about 5 big ships of their own. And that's how it was with all the economy - thieving it all out and then blaming it on Moscow.

In 2018 polls there were about 20 percent of Ukrainians who said they knew official Ukrainian, and 80 who spoke Russian and the eastern dialect mix of Ukrainian and Russian. You can make your own opinion out of this, ofc. That's not the same with Israel /Palestine situation, those nations are literally alien to each other in many things.

Yes, Ukraine was the synthetic country as well, but instead of being monogenous like both Israel and Palestine, they weren't, and had a very best economy in the Ussr, which made the whole notion of "Russia was is and will be bad" take lots of time in taking root in most of the people who weren't nationalistic, all the while Ukrainians were welcomed into Russia and not discriminated against in any way. Which is totally different to what was happening between Israel and Palestine, they had no actual ties, nothing except the USA military support for Israel so it stays on top, all the economic support to Gaza being settled in the pockets of all the middle men, and that's actually it.

But please, let's not forget, that the radical islamists are actually dangerous, and it's not a reaction to the USA involvement, or the reaction to anything at all but Quran. If there's someone who reads Quran and finds some Jihad mentions, there will be blood spilled over it. The whole, it's these guys fault or those guys fault doesn't really work when it's about politics, domestic or international. For things to work, there should be no radicals in the upper echelons of power. Which is not true in Israel / Palestine war from both sides. It's a very bad situation that may cause all kinds of tensions in all the world, because people aren't being well informed about the whole history of the conflict, without this or that side pushing their narrative.

At first, my knee jerk reaction was reading it as you thinking I support Hamas in any way. Which i dont. I must reiterate i DONT. I decided to revisit this later and calm down a bit and give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume that you're talking about other people, as I have myself seen say they support Hamas because history has often called rebellion groups of oppressed people terrorists and it's... Frankly terrifying to see.

Hamas specifically is a complicated situation that I have not yet dived deep enough into to talk about in detail, which is why I dont much talk much about them. I need to know more, I dont wanna talk outta my ass. But I do understand that radical Islamists are no good. I live in the Philippines. We have that too.

But the fact of the matter will always be that Hamas never mattered when it comes to what Israel is doing now and what they've been doing for decades. We must always remember this.

And while I'm on that topic, the "long term" suffering of Jews does not matter here either, because Palestinians didn't do that to them. A lot of zionists use it as an excuse and I am sick of it.

I'm not sure if you're saying one must be neutral about this. You're either hard to read, or I'm too sleep deprived and exhausted for reading comprehension. I think you are, but ai could be wrong. And I completely agree that it's the radicals in power that are to blame. In all my responses it is always the leaders I condemn most.

In any case, I'm just going to take this opportunity to say staying neutral isn't an option either because of the sheer power imbalance. Israel would be counting on the world looking away so they can erase all Palestinians. For this cycle of violence to be over on BOTH sides, Israel has to be the one to back off, as they are and always have been the ones with more power.

[orcasoul]

Priceless

Summary: Takes place after Grogu leaves with Luke to train as a Padawan. The Razor Crest wasn't destroyed. Reader is/was Grogu's nanny. Din and reader are in love, although neither one has confessed their feelings at first. When Din leaves to track a bounty she stays at an Inn because the ship is too quiet without Grogu. She is abducted by slavers and of course our hero Din saves the day and makes them pay!

Warnings: Swearing, angst, graphic description of violence and torture, no use of your Y/N.

Italics indicate inward thinking.

Word Count: 4,467

You're jolted out of your dreamless sleep as the Razor Crest leaves the peaceful tranquillity of hyperspace to begin it's decent into Tatooine. Desert planets were you're least favourite to find yourself on. The immense heat, arid air and rough sand of these maker forsaken places were enough to drive even the most hardened survivalist insane. "Strap yourself in. We're descending." Din announced in a monotone voice. You shift to strap in while Din's gloved hands slip methodically over the many control buttons and levers. Watching him you can't help but marvel at the amount of sequences he has to remember just to land the ship. "Of all the planets for the bounty to hide out on he had to choose this dusty shit hole," you half laughed, half grumbled. "I hate sand." "It shouldn't take too long to track him down, a few days at most." Din informed you almost absently. He hadn't been himself since Grogu left to train with Luke.

When you first met him, Din wasn't a great conversationalist. It took a little while for him to warm up to you, and when he did you managed to slowly pull more and more conversations out of him, but you also knew when he needed to be left alone and respected that. But for the past three weeks he's barely uttered a word to you, except when it was absolutely necessary. Technically he'd spent most of those weeks tracking down quarries, but the days he was present were awkwardly silent. Gone were the moments of laughing together at whatever trouble Grogu had caused, gone were the moments where he would call you cyar'ika, cyare and mesh'la. (You'd never asked him what they meant, hoping that they conveyed some form of endearment, and afraid that if you questioned him, he'd abandon the notion altogether). Gone were the times where you would brush past each other and the contact would last a few seconds longer than necessary, gone were the moments of comfortable silence. Now all that remained are short sentences, grunts and nods.

You missed the little guy too and longed for Din to talk to you instead of allowing his grief to fester within. You wished he would ask you how you are feeling after everything that happened. Surely he could see how much you love and miss Grogu. But you also missed Din too and wished there was something you could do to bring him back to you. He was here but he wasn't here. Seeing the man you'd fallen head over heels for determined to suffer alone made you feel useless. All you want to do is comfort him. "I miss him too, Din," you offered again, hoping to get him to open up to you. Din's shoulders tensed at your words and you could feel the tension in the air thickening by the second. Unable to stand the silence you continue, "He's safe with Luke, you know that, right?" Din slowly turned his helmet towards you, lights from the cockpit controls reflecting off his beskar, making him look like a contemporary work of art.

After a few tense moments of silence Din sighed, "I know." You took that as a sign that maybe he was ready to talk. That hope spurred you on, "It hurt so much saying goodbye but we did the right thing, for his sake." You were met with silence. "And I miss you too, Din," You confessed. "You've hardly spoken to me since that day. You can always talk to me about him, I wish you would." "Mhhmm," was the only reply you got as Din turned back to the controls to steady the craft as it touched down onto the landing pad. After shutting the engine down Din abruptly got to his feet and marched out of the cockpit. "Well, that went well," You sighed to yourself as you hugged your legs up to your chest in the chair, leaning your chin on your knees. His angry departure crushed any hope of reaching out to him yet again.

Letting Grogu leave was the hardest thing Din has ever had to do. He missed his foundling every second of every day. The only times he didn't have time to dwell on the loss was when he was hunting. The familiar thrill of the chase and finally obtaining his quarry made him feel more like himself again. And as welcomed as the distraction is, it was always a short relief. The return to the Crest became painful now. He was used to grogu's excitable squeals and the way he would run to him or hold his arms out, and even though you'd still greet him, seeing you standing alone without the little womp rat in your arms made his heart hurt. It hurt so much more than he ever thought possible. Of course Grogu is safe with Luke and he'll be taught how to utilise his abilities with the force, but that knowledge didn't help to ease the longing and heartache he's consumed with every day.

Weather Grogu was here or with Luke, he is his son and always will be. But now he's no longer around and Din isn't sure how to process what he's feeling. He's always been a loner, never had anyone to care for. Then Grogu came into his life and turned it upside down in the best way possible. For the first time in his adult life he felt love. The kind of love only a parent can have for their child. He cherished him, protected him, and always put him first. He thought it couldn't get any better then you came along and taught him about another kind of love. A love so new and alien to him that he struggled to define it in the early days. A love that made him notice every little thing you say and do, committing to his memory every laugh, every sigh, every movement, every touch from you. A love that embedded itself deep into every part of his heart, body and soul. A love that yearned for you to be closer even when you were in the same room.

The bar you'd worked in on Coruscant was a dingy, roudy hole but your cheery disposition always made it seem brighter. Din found himself taking Grogu there for dinner most days while they were staying on coruscant while Din was tracking a bounty. Grogu was always happy to see you and you loved making a fuss of him, sometimes allowing him to sit behind the counter with you, when your boss wasn't around. That's when Din got the idea of asking you to accept a job as Grogu's nanny. He knew he couldn't keep risking the kids' safety on hunts and who better to take care of him than the woman he'd so obviously grown attached to? You'd jumped at the chance to care for the "Green Bean" (as you lovingly called him) and to explore the galaxy, the three of you settling into a comfortable routine over the past several months.

But now you had no one to care for and that frightened Din. He was afraid that you'd leave too. Any day could be his last with you and he couldn't face having to say goodbye to another person he loves. He'd always hidden his feelings beneath his stoic facade and inscrutable helmet, but there were times when he wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and profess his unwavering love and appreciation for you. But he was afraid that such a revelation would ruin the dynamic of yours and his stable friendship. He was certain you wouldn't feel the same way about him. How could you when you can't even put a face to him? When he'd done some very questionable things in his line of work. After all, bounty hunters have a reputation of being quite cold and brutal. He could live with harbouring what his heart felt while you were a part of his life, but now he knows it's only a matter of time before you leave him too and after the loss of his son, your departure would be the last nail in the coffin for him. So to make the inevitable easier to bare he kept his distance, tried his best to quash any feelings and lingering thoughts of you and only spoke to you when necessary.

If only he knew that for the past few months you'd been pining for him as much as he has for you. You've never felt a love this deep for any man before and it scared you at first. Sure you'd had a few partners in the past but they were boys that always proved to be just that: Boys. But this man captivated you the more you got know him. For a man hidden in an indestructible shell, he had no problem allowing his care and tender devotion to his child to break through, and over time that care and tenderness had extended to you. And for that and so much more you had fallen hopelessly in love with him. If only he'd known that.

Ascending the ladder to the cargo bay you see Din preparing his weapons, ready for his next hunt. You hated seeing him leave now that Grogu wasn't here, dreading the solitude and emptiness the Razor Crest imposed on you the moment he left. Usually you and grogu would find ways to entertain yourselves around the ship and when on safe planets, you would both explore the towns and countryside. But you'd been alone with only your thoughts to keep you company for the past few weeks and now that the same situation is upon you again, you're not sure you can take it. You need to be around people, you need a distraction. So you'd decided to rent a room at a local Inn instead of remaining cooped up here and losing your mind. While Din is busy inspecting his array of weapons, you grab your backpack and begin to fill it with the necessary items you'll need for a few days; Clothes, toiletries, your data pad and credits.

"What are you doing?" Din asked quizzically as he turned to face you, helmet titled to one side. Without looking at him you reply, "I can't stay here alone right now. It's too quiet without Grogu. Everywhere I turn on this ship I'm reminded of him. I'm going to rent a room in town until you return." Din's heart sank to his stomach at your decision and his mind began to spiral. Maybe this is her way of saying goodbye, maybe she won't want to come back, maybe this is it. He began to feel the hurt he'd been trying so hard to avoid all this time, causing him to react the way he knew best; Put up a wall, act like the cold, stoic Mandalorian he is. "If you want to leave, just leave. You don't have to make excuses," Din snapped. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his harsh tone. "I'm not making excuses," you reply in hurt and confusion. "I just don't want to be here alone, again. All I do is think about how much I miss the little "Green Bean." Your voice cracked a little when you referred to Grogu with the endearing nickname you had given him. "You keep yourself busy but what am I supposed to do?" "You don't have to do anything," Din answered coldly. "Grogu's gone so you don't have to be here anymore."

He regretted the words the moment they slipped past his lips. He didn't mean it, of course he didn't, but in his urgent attempt to regain control of his emotions and to protect his already fragile heart he decided to give you a way out. What he didn't expect in return was the sharp gasp and heart-rending look painted across your face. He could see tears beginning to glisten in your eyes, your bottom lip slightly trembling as you fought to control it. It had dawned on him in that moment that you had in fact stayed here for him and that you cared for him more than he realised and now he'd gone and fucked everything up. "You want me to leave?" you whispered incredulously. "After all this time am I still just a nanny? Do I really mean so little to you?" Your cheeks flush as hot, salty tears begin to fall. Your words cut a fresh wound into Din's heart. He wanted to say something but your clear distress had him frozen to the spot. How could he have been so blind? How could he have treated you so cruelly?

You took his deafening silence as confirmation that you indeed mean nothing to him, shattering your heart and encasing it in sorrow. "I stayed after grogu left because I thought we cared about each other. I thought we were friends, Din. I Guess I Was wrong!" you cried. Turning away from him your hurt began to morph into anger. "Open the ramp!" you demanded balling your fists. You had to get out of here, away from Din, away from the Crest. You'd lost the only two people you cared for and the pain was soul crushing. But as you began to walk away he quickly reached out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "Wait.... please!." There was a desperation in his voice you'd never heard before. It doused the boiling anger that had been coursing through your core. You look into the T-shaped visor nervously, heart hammering in your chest. "I don't want you to leave." Din voice was almost a whisper.

The normally confident and collected Mandalorian had suddenly become an entirely different entity, unsure and vulnerable. "You don't?" you ask with one eyebrow raised, unsure of where this conversation is going but at the same time filled with an ember of hope that maybe he does care about you after all. Din lowered his head and released your wrist. "No," he sighed. "I never wanted you to leave. We... we are friends, Cyar'ika-" "Is this how you treat your friends? Ignore them for weeks and make them feel unwanted?" you press, with your arms crossed over your chest, hurt evident in your voice. Din lifted his visor to look into your eyes and for the first time since you've known him you wished you could see him without the helmet, to see if his face would betray just an inkling of his emotions towards you. Din cautiously lifted his hand to cup your cheek, wiping away your tears.

You could feel your face reddening again, this time from the unexpected show of affection. Your breath hitched in your chest as you waited for him to respond. "I'm sorry," Din lamented. "I'm so sorry for the way I've been treating you. I never wanted you to feel that way. I just..... I thought that with Grogu gone you'd move on too and....." Din's voice shook slightly. He was obviously not used to being so open, so you decided to allow him to continue at his own pace, patiently waiting for him to express himself. "I didn't want to lose you aswell." His sudden and raw honesty struck a chord deep within and before your mind could even catch up you reached up, placing your hand atop his still resting on your cheek, to comfort him. How you wished that you could help him through the grief he's been caging inside himself. "I miss the kid so much," he finally divulged. "Not being able to see him, hear him, be with him, it's like.... like sometimes I can't breath. And I was so sure you'd leave too. That's why.... that's why I pulled away from you, so it would hurt less when you do."

Din's shoulders slumped slightly after confessing to you, as if a weight had been lifted from him. But this feeling of vulnerability was new to him and he loathed it. It made him feel weak, anxious and unsure. He hated exposing this side of himself. If he could have physically gripped these emotions and squeezed the life out of them he would. But worse than how he felt about his "weakness", was seeing how much hurt his actions had caused you. He never wanted to see that heartbreaking look on your face again, never wanted to be the cause of your tears and if that meant bearing his soul to you now, so be it! "Oh Din," you cooed, soothingly, "I was never planning on leaving. I can't imagine my life without you in it. It was hard enough leaving Grogu. The last thing I want is to leave you too." Din breathed a sigh of relief as your reassuring words washed over him, cleansing him of his doubt and filling him with hope. "I'm sorry, Cyare," Din repeated. "I should have just been honest with you from the beginning." "Well now's your chance," you gently encouraged while bringing his hand down to your side, fingers interwoven with his.

You're right. He knows you're right. It's now or never. Even if you don't feel the same way at least he won't have to live his life wandering "what if?". "I'm in love with you," he professed, suddenly finding his confidence return. "I have been for a while. I love your beauty, your strength, your wit, and I love how you love Grogu." You must be dreaming! Was he really confessing his love for you? This man whom you love unconditionally, who means more to you than the very air you breath. A man whom you never imagined would reciprocate your love. Your head began to swim and you could feel your heart-rate picking up as your emotions overwhelmed you, filling you with joy and elation. A wide smile spread from cheek to cheek as you stared straight into the place where his eyes are behind his visor. You gently place both hands on the helmets' cheeks and tiptoe while bringing Din's head down. You close your eyes and bring his forehead to yours, knowing exactly what this gesture means to him. "I'm in love with you too, Din," you beamed. "You're everything I've ever wanted."

Din released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding as your words sank in, warming every nerve, every cell, every inch of his being. He'd often imagined this moment. Imagined he would finally tell you how much he loves you and that you'd tell him you loved him too. But now this moment is here he can see how the fantasy pales in comparison to reality. Here you are accepting his love and giving him yours in return. It's as if his heart has finally began to understand what it had been missing all these decades. Din slowly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up to your tiptoes and into his broad, armour plated chest. The cold beskar cannot eclipse the warmth radiating from both his arms and his heart right now and you can feel the intensity of it all in the way he's now holding you. You sigh happily while winding your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his clothed neck. Even through the fabric you can smell his unique scent, musk, leather, gunpowder, everything that makes him Din. The universe could end right now and you'd be happy to spend these last moments in his loving embrace.

Several blissful moments pass and Din delicately lowers you back down, Pulling his head back to look into your eyes, which are now glistening with love and adoration for him, his hands softly landing on your hips, while your hands hold onto his upper arms. Maker, how he wants to kiss you, rip his helmet off and kiss you! Maybe one day he'll get to do just that, when he makes you his Riddur. "So, you will be coming back, then?" he asks with a smirk. His helmet can hide it, but his voice can't. "Of course I will," you purred through the smile that seems to have taken up permanent residence on your face. "We have a lot to talk about when you return," you gushed. "And I hope we can talk about Grogu." The words came out almost timidly, afraid to upset him. "He means so much to both of us and I think it would be good for us to open up to each other about how this is really affecting us."

Hearing Grogu's name again brought another ache to Din's heart but now he knows he'll never have to bare this sorrow alone, that you'll be there for him and him for you. Somehow that assurance has already made expressing his grief seem less daunting. "Anything you want, Meshla," Din hummed as he brought his thumb to smooth over the apple of your cheek. "Anything for you." You wanted to linger here for eternity, revelling in this intimate moment. But the universe will only give you so much of a good thing. You remember through your delirious haze that there's work to be done, work in order to survive in this galaxy. "Well," you begin while smoothing your hand over his wrist. "The sooner you catch your bounty, the sooner you can come back to me."

For the first time in his life, Din wished he didn't have to hunt down a fugitive. The excitement of the hunt and the satisfaction of the capture seemed insignificant now when all he wanted to do was hold you and tell you everything he'd been concealing for so long. But the logical and practical parts of his mind knew that living required credits, so as much as he hates it he knows he must leave. "Make sure to pack everything you'll need. I'll walk you to the town to find lodgings. Take this com so we can keep in touch." Din passed you a com and turned back to the weapons locker to finish his preparations. "If you need me for anything, contact me, anytime, okay?" "Okay," you reply, sideling up to him and pressing your head on his shoulder. "Please, be careful out there, Din. I love you." "I love you too, Cyare," Din smiled under his helmet, leaning it gently on the crown of your head.

The two smouldering suns had begun to rise as you and Din approached Mos Espa. Even though the dawn has just broken on the world the heat was already stifling. As you enter the town Din's soft leather clad hand settled on the small of your back, his head turning from left to right, checking for any signs of danger or unsavoury characters. Always on the alert, you mused while smiling slightly. This place seemed safe enough but the fact he's so protective of you makes your tummy flutter and you can't help but enjoy this new feeling of belonging, of being loved. As you both reach the main market street you see the vendors and traders setting up their stalls for another day of eeking a living. "Over there." You point as Din's helmet follows your finger. "That place looks decent." You both stop in front of a small but very well looked after Inn. "The Lothcat Inn," you read while your eyes lit up at the cute picture beneath the words. "I love Lothcats. They're so cute I can't stand it," you chirped, your voice reaching a high pitch which in return earned a chuckle from Din. "After you...." Din gently ushers you inside, his hand not leaving your back.

After being given your keycard and dropping off your bag in your room it's time to say goodbye. You've seen Din off many times before, comforting Grogu and reassuring him that his dad will be back soon, but this time it feels different. So much still needed to be said, so much still needed to be discovered about each other and knowing that has to wait has you missing him already. You automatically squint as you and Din step out into the rising sunshines beating down without mercy, the surrounding Adobe brick and clay buildings bathed in a pinkish glow. The market is beginning to wake up. Street cries from hawkers, haggling and bargaining loudly fills the air, children running around laughing and getting under people's feet while their parents are distracted by the latest bargains, cafes and other businesses opening their doors to welcome customers. It's just what you need to keep your mind occupied for a few days.

"Do you have your com?" Din asks, a slight worry to his tone. "Right here," you responded with a smile, lifting your arm to reveal the com strapped to the inside of your wrist. "Good," Din breathed out in relief. "I'll contact you every morning and night to check in, but remember if you need me, if there's an emergency call me immediately, any time." Din's Voice relays the nervousness that is beginning to creep into his bones at the thought of leaving you here alone. At least on the Razor Crest he knew you were always safe. But he also understands that you need a change of scenery, so for your sake he doesn't object, despite his reservations. Sensing his obvious unease you hold his hands to try to soothe him, smoothing your thumbs over his gloved knuckles, feeling the cracks in the well worn leather. You tiptoe to reach for his forehead and Din brings his head down to meet you half way. Your eyes slip closed and you whisper, "You don't have to worry, Din. I'll be fine here, but if I need you I promise I will call you." The tension in Din's stance seems to alleviate slightly after the reassurance you just gave him.

"I'll be back in about three or four days, if all goes according to plan. I'll let you know when I'm close. I'll take the quarry to the ship, then come and get you." You feel the loss of his departure already and have to fight the lump threatening to form in your throat. "Take care out there, you hear me." It's your turn to worry now. "I will," Din promised "I love you." Your smile returned at hearing those words again. "I love you too," you cooed. Din slowly turns to walk away, your right hand still holding his for a few more precious seconds, fingers brushing against each others before they inevitably part. You smile lovingly as he takes one last look over his shoulder, then he's gone, swallowed by the growing crowd.

Part 2

[tcfactory]

imagine the horror sy would feel when he gets to see the aftermath of sqh meeting mbj. he was nervous and jumpy before, now hes terrified. theres bruises and breaks and black eyes that he desperately tries to play off as being clumsy. sj is paranoid and scared and yq is broken and traumatised. he gets to see the first flinch from "a-lou". he gets to see the flinch and sweat when someone asks to see yq's sword. they're all so scared. and he was content to just watch.

(Continuation from here)

The situation with Shang Qinghua is even worse once all of this crashes and burns, because it starts when Sang Qinghua is still a disciple and Shen Yuan is a peak lord. He's around for that, he could have prevented it from happening, but he didn't. He was really harsh on 'villainous, 0 IQ canon fodder', so when he sees that his An Ding shidi's new head disciple is a nervous wreck clearly hiding bruises and injuries, he simply thinks

"Oh, so that's the sect traitor. Must be really shit at both of his jobs to get beat up even by Mobei-jun, hah! No wonder he will be killed eventually. Serves you right, sucker."

and moves on with his day. Because why should he care about this shitty little backstabbing NPC? He treats this experience like one of those studio tours, where you can walk through all the set pieces and look at all the costumes laid out all nice before they start filming a show. Nothing here matters, the Plot will come and he has nothing to do with it (was Shen Qingqiu's shizun even named in PIDW? He doesn't remember, so probably not.), so why should he step in and change things? What if he messes with the set pieces (like chases Mobei-jun off) and it changes things. Like Mobei-jun never sets off the attack against the Immortal Alliance Conference and Luo Binghe never gets unsealed? No, better not meddle.

That, of course, comes back to haunt him when he realizes that all of these people around him are actually people. The detachment coming from his cultivation, age and the System's framing of the world as 'expanding on lore' really made him forget that he's not the only person in this setting. In the case of Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu he was ignorant, but in the case of Shang Qinghua he willingly looked away.

Shen Yuan ascends and as god of secrets he suddenly has extremely detailed insight into what all these people are trying to keep the most hidden about themselves - their fear, their pain, their shitty horrible backstories WTF Airplane-bro - and at that point he can't pretend anymore that they are all just the equivalent of papier-mâché trees.

And it really seems to be fear that makes this abusive cycle go around. Mobei-jun is afraid that his family will kill him (as they are actively trying to do) and Shang Qinghua is too good to be true, so he hits him. Shang Qinghua is terrified that Mobei-jun is going to hit him too hard in one of his fits and he never wakes up again. Fear, fear, fear everywhere.

Except for Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe, even as a child, is not afraid of the abuse or his shitty shizun. He's confused, disappointed, unhappy, but all of that is going to distill into hatred and resentment - and that's when Shen Yuan knows that he has to do something, he has to step in, because none of his scared beasts stand a chance against the thing festering behind Luo Binghe's angelic little face. He's the Protagonist and he's going to revisit every slight upon them a thousandfold.

Shen Yuan, who now has an intimate understanding of their emotional states and motivations (despite very much not wanting any of that, System, he just wanted to watch the Plot from somewhere safe!) doesn't want that. He doesn't want more pain and he doesn't want Luo Binghe to succumb to the hate and madness that's already starting to take root in him. He deserves better.

They all deserve better. And if he was too self-absorbed and stupid to prevent it, then all is left to do is try and salvage what he can.

Lucky for him, there's a lot of wiggle room in 'ascended master has foreseen a horrible calamity and descended to try and prevent it' so he has a lot of rope to work with, but it's going to be a difficult thing to set things right.

He has to stay as Shen Qingqiu too, no, System, he's not arguing about that, do something so Shen Jiu can't come back to his position right away (initiating: teen devil Jiu scenario - he's going to be fifteen and those not in the know will fully think Shen Qingqiu just separated into his good and his horrible attributes during his deviation, but his shitty self is somehow younger) and he has to do a good job of being a caring Shizun this time around. He has to be the one who steps in and stops the abuse.

All the while the people he's trying to protect the most are looking at him with fear and suspicion, because he sure as hell wasn't a reliable, trustworthy adult before, so trying to do it now when it looks like he has essentially stolen Shen Qingqiu's body during a qi-deviation so he could insert himself into the situation easier is... not a good look. At all.

He would have lived the rest of his life happier if he never had to see Shen Jiu break down crying because after how hard he worked and fought for his position and cultivation, his fucking deadbeat shizun descended and stole it all from him for the sake of convenience. His body is the same state it was when he first joined the sect and he doesn't care about Shen Yuan's awkward suggestions about plants and whatever to fix his wonky foundation, he will have to do all his breakthroughs and everything all over again and it's just too much. Part of the meltdown is definitely the body, with its teenage hormones and the mood-destabilizing effects of demonic cultivation still in his system, but he's not wrong. Shen Yuan has jumped into this, once again, without considering how any of the other people in the scenario feel and he destroyed whatever minuscule amount of trust Shen Jiu had in him.

Keep up the good work, host! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

[kreept12]

I just finished Dragon Age 2, and there's something so deeply sad and distressing about Anders. As someone in a country where the far right party is about to be in charge, where the second turn is literally tomorrow but there's so little hope. Our votes and compromises with other parties won't save us. People will never listen. It's the same shit, year after year after year, but it keeps getting worse no matter how hard you try, to help the mages, stop the blood mages and save the apostates ; to change the public's opinion about your right to exist in peace.

Anders slow fall to despair led by the corrupted remains of Justice is distressing, and unavoidable. No matter how hard you support him, you can't compensate against the weight of a corrupt system. The pain festers. Your simple wishes of leading your life peacefully, on your own, seems to get farther and farther away. Anders could never promise a peaceful life to Hawke, the only life he can offer seems duller and more painful year after year. And you can't catch that wish. How close you used to be to it. How you could have made it. And now you can't wish of a simple life anymore.

You need more. To get it back. Rage settles in, hiding the pain and despair of being stuck in a system turning against you. You crave Justice. But "Justice is an idea; it makes sense in a world of idea, not in our world". No one will bring you Justice, only you can. But who are we? We have no authority. No power.

Soon I won't be able to exist, and I wish I could blow up a chantry. Make a big move. Be Anders. But Anders' story is a tragedy. About losing himself, sacrificing so many innocent people for his justice. And I don't want to lose myself. It won't stop them from taking my rights.

[asirensrage]

When your dumb dog dies at least it's finally getting away from you and is free from your pick me manic pixie girl impersonation. You're so fake I feel like barfing. You act like you're so attractive and every dude is in love with you. I don't believe you dated your neighbor in the basement and I don't believe you have a secret admirer who left all these amazing LPs outside your door. It all sounds like a fantasy in your head. I think you have a boring sad little life and you log into Tumblr and make little text posts about yourself with made up stories about how wonderful you are.

And your sad little pick me followers are so desperate for validation they latch onto you and make pathetic little presents to get your attention. They want validated and you want validated. It's one big jerk circle. You said you feel intimidated by someone's writing and you'll never be that good and your lame audience goes you're so wonderful Sara. And you said but don't worry I will improve when you really think you're wonderful.

I feel sorry for the dog because you have ruined it's life by existing and now it's going to die boohoo what a waste

Hey Anon? Fuck you.

No, seriously, go fuck yourself. What type of person straight-up tells someone that they basically hope their dog dies? How fucked up are you?

Your self-loathing and your jealousy is festering.

I mean it, you seem to have wasted your fucking life and take it out on everyone else you decide not to like. Do you have the notifications on for my blog? Does your heart race every time you see I've posted or reblogged something and you think you can use this against me? As if this is finally going to give you the satisfaction that you're missing from your miserable life?

I don't give a fuck whether or not you believe me about the things that happen in my life. I don't know you and I'm eternally grateful for it since you clearly have no idea how to regulate your own emotions. You would be exhausting to be around. Toddlers can learn how to do that. Children know when they need to take a break and walk away, or to not engage with something that upsets them. Why can't you?

You really hate the fact that I can continue being positive and encouraging, that people enjoy my writing enough to gift me their creations because I've inspired them. You know why you don't have any of that? Because your fucking toxic attitude can be felt in your writing and through the very screen I read your words on. You put yourself on display with every interaction and it shows. No wonder you're alone.

I do think my own writing is fucking fantastic. You know why? because I continue to work on it. Because I let myself be inspired by others instead of letting jealousy and hate eat at my heart until there's nothing left but a cold emptiness that you continue to try to fill and take it out on everyone you see who you think has what you want.

You don't deserve any accolades if this is how you think you can treat people just because you can hide your face. Put your mouth where your money is, anon. Fucking say that shit to my face, with your actual account and not a burner. But you won't. God forbid you actually admit that you're a fucking terrible person who needs validation and attention in any way that you can gain it.

I hope the world gives you everything you've ever offered others on anon. See how you fucking like it.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Been thinking about Lena after she kills Lex, and like... sure, fandom and Lena herself like to think that she's a stone cold manipulator, able to con anyone into thinking she doesn't have a heart, but Sam and Kara both know that she's literally mush on the inside. Which implies to me that Lena wears her emotions on her sleeve.

Which in turn implies that she would have been physically unable to hide the fallout of her decision to kill Lex and the truth that's revealed to her in doing so.

Which gives me the idea that Lena wasn't this cold hearted bitch leading Kara on for months over that summer, but rather that simply-- no one was there to see her falling apart.

It's not that hard to rationalize. Kara avoids her, because every time they're together she knows she needs to tell Lena but can't bring herself to do so. Lena lets her, because she can hardly stand the sight of Kara anyway. And the other superfriends, well... Kara was her main point of contact with them anyway. If Kara is avoiding her, there's little reason to expect the others might be filling in.

It all makes me very angry on Lena's behalf. She would have been read like an open book if anyone had given half a shit about her, but instead she was left to fester and stew in her own anger and hurt and misgivings until she got to her boiling point and had forsaken all human connection.

And for those who argue maybe the shock of learning Kara's secret in the way she did was enough to literally shut off her emotionality so that she didn't/couldn't show her true feelings-- if that were the case it STILL would have been noticeable. Kara would have noticed the sudden change from "mush on the inside" to "I am totally closed off to you."

So either way you look at it-- the superfriends and Kara in particular did Lena dirty and this is a hill I'm willing to die on.

[ortegaversesimp]

Enid had been in New York for a couple of days now, It was so Similar but so different from San Francisco. People Just seemed to be in such a God damn hurry all the time.

It was supposed to be a relaxing trip for her first break of the semester of her senior year. Well as relaxing as it can be when surrounded by drunken college kids already wearing their kooky Halloween costumes days in advance.

Wednesday had offered for Enid to join her in Jersey for the break, Thing in rapid agreement, but Enid knew her beautiful roomate had been looking forward to going on a probably highly illegal and dangerous trip with her uncle Fester when she got home. She almost heard a slither of excitement enter her roomies usual monotone voice when Wednesday had told her about her beloved Uncles letter. It came through the window by a freaking hawk like she was living in some fucked up Harry Potter shit.

Anyway It was Senior year, she had to start planning for what she would do after graduation. The whole reason why she was currently in New York in the first place was to look at courses at an impressive looking Blackmore University and searching for apartments that may be available next semester.

No time to waste on pretty girls....or so she thought.

One persistent creep annoying and following a short college age girl, plus Enid trying to be helpful plus one angry misplaced punch on the blondes nose by said college girl equals Enid sitting across from said pretty girl  making plans for a guided tour around New York from an apologetic Tara Carpenter.

"I can't believe you got us lost in Central Park" laughed Enid as Tara struggled with the second lock on her apartment door.

The heavy door finally opened, Tara rushed inside dragging the laughing werewolf by her obnoxious I heart NYC shirt in behind her.

Enid watched the girl she had grown to care for, rush past her while hiding rosie colored cheeks to switch on the lamp next to a well loved couch that looked like it belonged in a college kids first apartment away from home...or a crackden, but who was Enid to judge? She was still sharing a communal fridge with 5 other teenage girls. One who takes a full shelf with her O positive blood bags (Yoko really needs her own mini fridge for Christmas)

"Oh Shut up blondie" Tara snarked with an embarrassed grin, pulling a smiling Enid on top of her on Enids new favorite couch.

"Why I never!" gasped Enid in overdramatic horror. One hand cluching her chest in mock offense while her other kept her from crushing the gorgeous girl beneath her.

"I thought you found me hilarious and charming?! Enid pouted looking into mirthfilled chocolate orbs.

"I can think of a much better use for your hilarious and charming mouth" Tara said while tugging the hovering blonde closer.

"As you wish" Enid smiled, Tara's eyes brightening even further that Enid had remembered a passing comment on the young Carpenters favorite childhood movie.

Their lips met surprisingly softly. As if they were two young teenagers finally having their first kiss.

Quickly soft pecks turned more passionate. Enid hands respectfully on slender hips, in a slightly bruising grip. Doing her best not to let little growls of pleasure exit her lips. 'That might be a bit much for a first make out session with a normie' thought Enid as she felt Tara's hands slide under her shirt.

Tara's warm hands freezing on Enids stomach. Slowly pulling away from the whimpering outcast.

Enid opened her eyes in a daze and looked into confused and slightly worried ones staring back at her.

" Are you ok?" whispered Enid. Hands immediately leaving hips.

" Was that too much" worry poured from Enids mouth as she shifted her weight off the smaller woman.

Tara stared at Enid in shocked confusion. A thousand questions flickering in her eyes as Enid patiently waited for her to gather her thoughts.

"Wha..what happend?" Tara finally spoke out.

Enid tilted her head to the side looking every bit the confused pup Wednesday always playfully called her.

" The scars Enid" Tara said quietly, as if afraid she would push Enid into a breakdown.

To Tara's surprise, Enid let out a small sigh of relief, shoulders no longer hunched in anxious worry.

Enid allowed her weight to return to her partners body, hands returning to hips, soothingly rubbing in gentle circles.

"Oh yeah! I fought something" Enid said with a proud grin stretching her mouth. Looking now like a puppy waiting for a treat (huh maybe Wednesday had a point with the puppy comparisons thought Enid, pushing the thought to the back of her mind).

"You fought -WHAT DID YOU FIGHT A LION?!" Tara exclaimed in disbelief, looking at Enid as if she grew an extra head on her shoulders.

Enid couldn't help but laugh, a lion would have been child's play compared to Tyler and his giant ugly ass head.

"Just a monster" Enid shrugged. Not particularly wanting to talk about it, she afterall never escaped unscathed.

Enid now had a slight moment of worry and heartbreak that maybe the scars on her body to go along with her face might be too much for the normie girl.

Tara freezes as those words leave Enids mouth. Sam, Mindy and Chad's voices shouting in her head. Telling her she doesn't know this girl. She's obviously been involved in some danger. Telling her to ask Enid to leave and not to come back.

Looking into the deep worry ridden ocean eyes surprisingly silenced all those trusted voices.

Tara took Enid trembling hand with her own scarred hand and took it  softly off her waist, sliding it up her loose fitting top urging enids hand around her back to where various healed stab wounds lay.

Enids horrified eyes met Tara's.

" I fought one too."

[endlesslyanya]

Ooo okay I can't stop thinking about the episode where we find out Mortica and gomez have a secret spot to sit in the attic together. And now I'm wondering what other little hide away spots they have all around the house now 🥹. We know from the movie they also have a special bench in the family cemetery they sit at too!

Oh they have a bunch I'm sure lol that house is huge! probably another on the roof to moonbathe :3

Now I'm thinking about the episode when they first met - remember how Gomez was hiding and Morticia found him xD ( and don't get me started on that part with Uncle Fester that shit kills me every time lmaoo )

Oh by the way! Here's a funny little compilation I watched recently:

[tifaisms]

so something i havent seen around much about togachako is the way that the story is set up as a whole to ask two very important questions.

To me, the two big questions of MHA as a series are - What is a hero? and then later, it asks the question What is a villain?

I believe that these two questions are the core of the series. And the characters all answer it in different ways, and even change the way that they answer it. Deku believes that saving people makes a hero, and bakugo believes it is someone who always wins. All Might teaches them both that they are close, because a hero is someone who wins by saving, and saves by winning.

A villain is initially someone evil, but then we see that the villains are friends. They care about each other. They are outcasts, mistreated and abused by the world around them. Toga is bisexual, Tomura is severely traumatised and has been groomed by a genuinely evil man, Spinner was horribly treated for his appearance, Dabi was a victim of his father and Jin developed severe split personality (apologies if that is an outdated term, pls let me know if it is) after being fired and having his life go downhill. So the line between hero and villain becomes blurred, because they both want to change the world, and they both have people they care about. They are capable of acts of kindness and acts of destruction. With Gentle and La Brava, the line between hero and villain is blurred. Ultimately, the biggest difference between someone who is a villain and someone who is a hero is the world around them. People who turned to crime were mistreated and that resentment was left to fester. But heroes are given support. Deku says the only reason he got this far is because of the people around him supporting him. And he's right.

So when toga and ochako have their fight, we realise that where toga came from a horrible environment where she was forced to hide herself, ochako was in a loving environment, even if she was poor. And as a result, Ochako reacts to Toga with fear. Because she can't understand her. But just like Ochako has her own brand of heroism (wanting to see people smile, and wanting to save heroes, because no one else will) Toga has a brand of villainy - she is a being of love. She just wants to love in her own special way. And she can't. She is called a freak. And to me, that is just a metaphor for being LGBT. Are the optics of LGBT people as unhinged and literally bloodthirsty kinda shit? Maybe, but Toga doesn't WANT to hurt people. She never learned how to have a healthy relationship cause she never had one. She never told her crush her feelings cause she would have been called a freak. Toga is deeply linked to the LGBT experience. And Ochako, another woman, saying "let's talk about romance!" is so important, because Ochako knows she can't understand Toga. But she wants to! And Toga ultimately lets her in, and she is so overwhelmed with pure joy as a result. Because for maybe the first time in her life, Toga has been allowed to just be Toga, without any judgement.

So I hope she lives. And if she doesn't, I can't think of a more fitting end for the character. She believes, so deeply, that taking blood is the ultimate act of love. When she ingests the blood of someone, it is her way of showing love. And her final act (presumably) is not only turning into Ochako (an incredible act of love in her eyes) but giving blood to Ochako (which is another incredible act of love). She will have died loving the way she wanted.