#i have a lot of good and nice things to say about the live action but i prefer to focus my essays on what i would change

[beanghostprincess]

My take on OPLA's "Arlong Park" as a Nami kinnie with a lot of things to say

I have a lot of complaining to do about how OPLA wrote and directed the last two episodes and, generally speaking, Nami's character and dynamic with the others. However, and as I said the last time I wrote one of these posts about my takes on OPLA, I understand that it's really hard to make a Live Action of something so iconic and long as One Piece. However, I do think that there is some stuff that could have been done better without it being a problem with the lack of time and all that.

That being said, please enjoy my thoughts on Arlong Park and Nami's character. This will be completely messy and chaotic but it's just that I'm too lazy to organize my ideas properly.

Pre-Arlong Park

For starters, I don't like how they introduce Nami's character arc. I understand that to get attached to her character and show that she's growing fond of the crew you have to make her like them and be friends with them. And that's great! I really liked her interactions with them and it really shows that she cares deeply about all of them but she just can't get too close or else she'll put her mission and them in danger. She can't get too attached out of self-hatred and fear and she can't be herself, even if sometimes her true personality shows whenever she gets too comfortable. And it's beautiful, especially with Luffy.

However, the little hints about her past and current situation felt forced. Perhaps I'm just picky with the script, but I think it would've been way better to show us that she's enjoying her time with them but for some unsaid reason, she refuses to open up. And then, the whole thing with Arlong happens. No hints. No deep trauma-dumping with Zoro. And, please, no verbalization of her ongoing situation that she's literally trying to hide.

The thing with OPLA is that they don't let the characters show their feelings without speaking. They don't let the actors express what the character's going through with silent acting. They have to explain everything verbally as if we, the audience, were stupid.

So I have this feeling that the foreshadowing and hints for Arlong Park were forced and out of character, especially because they wanted to rush Nami's friendship with them (for no reason, since you can do that simply by showing us that she's having a good time but she doesn't let herself actually stay with them or just be herself). You can be friends with somebody and love them without knowing shit about their past or suffering (Luffy in the manga is a great example, but I'll talk about that later) so the friendship they were building between Nami and Zoro could've worked anyway without that drinking game (obviously used as a plot device to foreshadow Arlong Park).

Nami befriends them too easily, in my opinion. She obviously cares about them and wants to be with them, but she can't. That's why canonically she steals the Merry and leaves them there on their own the moment she has the chance to do it. And she cries. And feels like shit because she finally found people who genuinely wanted her and liked her, but she can't be with them. She can't because she thinks she'll hurt them. Because she thinks they'll hurt her. Because she doesn't let herself open up to anybody but herself. Because she has a mission.

OPLA could've easily done that, but for some reason decided to make Nami openly tell Zoro to not fight because they're friends (she probably would think so, but would never say it out loud. Plus, she knows better than to try to stop Zoro. That scene is bullshit) and then stay to see the fight after regretting trying to leave them because they're friends. And it's bullshit, once again, because, despite her feelings towards them, she would never let herself be happy like that. Canonically she hates betraying them, but she has to do it. And yet the live-action decided to make her say all of her feelings out loud when her whole character is about refusing to express her pain out loud.

Good job Netflix (this said with a very sarcastic tone, by the way).

One of the things that bothers me the most, too, is how she blames Luffy after the fight. Not even canon Nami would do that. Yes, she doesn't yet acknowledge Luffy as her captain, but she knows he's the one who has the last word. She's aware that it was Zoro's own stupid decision. She knows why Luffy let him do it. She knows they're stupid but they want to get stronger and follow their dreams and she won't be able to stop them even if she wants to. So it doesn't make any goddamned sense for Nami to actively fight Luffy about it. She should be smarter than this.

And yes, you can say that perhaps it's just the frustration of them being able to stupidly follow their dreams when she can't do it herself. It makes sense. She definitely is. But you can show that frustration without her yelling at Luffy for something she knows she can't change.

Also, as I said before, she expresses her feelings and worries out loud. Not even just out loud, but too loud. She yells how worried she is and how close they are now. That they are friends. And I think that their friendship could've been shown instead of just said with her words, because Nami, in the beginning, would've never let herself admit it. Not to them. Not even to herself. Their friendship and care are something she can't afford right now. And yet she's obviously delaying her mission to stay with them? And she's verbally telling them that they're friends? It makes no sense to me.

Then, Arlong shows up at the Baratie.

Not the decision I would've made but, okay, let's take it.

And Nami of course goes with him, but I don't like how they made it happen.

The thing is, Nami canonically steals the ship and goes to Arlong Park because she has her life there. Her duty. You can see clearly in the manga how much she wants to stay with the crew but how her hometown is more important than her own happiness. Here, it just looks like Arlong came for her and she goes with him only because he's there. If he hadn't shown up, she probably would've just stayed with the others as far as we know. Which is, once again, bullshit and out of character.

She goes with Arlong, acts like the villain, and goes away.

And it's pretty much rushed and it feels forced. So, well... Let's say I only liked Baratie because of Sanji (off-topic, but his backstory and scenes were the best. But perhaps I'm just not objective since he's my favorite Mugiwara hehe).

Arlong Park

The crew's reaction

It doesn't make sense. Let's just say it like that.

In the manga, both Usopp and Zoro get righteously angry at Nami because she stole their ship and that's the main reason why they decide to agree with Luffy and go look for her.

However, here, Nami didn't steal anything from them. And yet they're... Mad at her?

Zoro and Usopp know better than to just leave her behind because she was the one leaving them first. I understand that Usopp might be a coward and he doesn't want to get into fights for a girl he just met, so I kind of get why he doesn't agree with Luffy. However, Zoro is supposed to know that she isn't like this. They've had... A lot of bonding scenes together and yet he's like: "If she wants to be left alone, then so be it". And I get it because Zoro is, well, Zoro. But OPLA!Zoro has bonded with Nami. He obviously respects her decision here, but acting like she betrayed them is stupid because she never stole anything from them besides the map (which was hers to begin with, by the way). They don't have reasons to hate her and if they were going to make her go without stealing the Merry then they could've also made the whole crew agree with Luffy to get her back.

No comment on Sanji, by the way, he does great. Great Sanji. Taz I love you (please ignore my blatant favoritism).

They encounter Nami and, once again, I don't like how verbal they are all the damn time. Luffy should NEVER tell her to ask for help if she needs it. He knows she needs help, he just wants her to be the one to say it and he knows she will once she's ready. I liked Nami saying something along the lines of "No, this is the 'me' you want me to be" though. Great line.

Then they meet Nojiko, and let me tell you... I have so many issues with this I don't think I'll ever finish talking about it.

First things first, why the fuck is Nojiko unaware of Nami's intentions? The whole thing about Nojiko is that she loves Nami to death and knows the reasons why she's doing all of this. That's why she's able to tell the crew about their past with sadness but love and care and so much worry for Nami's wellbeing. She meets the crew and instantly knows how much they care about her. That's why she helps them: She wants Nami to finally be free and have more people who love her in her life.

Instead, OPLA makes Nojiko hate her sister because apparently, she thinks she betrayed them. Cool. More unnecessary angst for Nami (sarcastic comment, again).

But that doesn't bother me that much. You know what bothers me? What enrages me?

Luffy hears Nami's backstory.

Why. The. Fuck. Is. He. There.

Literally this was just the writers' choice because they fucking wanted to because there's nothing stopping them from making him climb to the rooftop the second Nojiko starts talking. He keeps saying he wants to hear Nami's feelings from her, and yet he stays to hear what happened to her.

What makes Luffy such a great person and captain is how little he cares about his crew's pasts. He doesn't want to know about how they used to be or what happened to them, as long as they stay true to how they are now. And what makes Luffy and Nami's bond so important and beautiful and strong, is how much Nami hates what happened to her and how little Luffy cares. Nami hates herself for what she did, and Luffy loves her because of who she is now. Perfect balance. Beautiful, precious bond.

OPLA could've just fixed it by making Luffy climb to the rooftop sooner, and they didn't. I don't know why yet. But they didn't. And it makes me so mad...I need to talk to the writers or I swear to God-

That makes his conversation with Zoro not make any sense, but hey! Pretty Zolu scene that I appreciate and it was really beautiful to watch. Not complaining here.

Nami asking for help (THE Arlong Park scene. THE moment. THE straw hat thing)

Despite Emily's amazing acting (God, I love her. As a director/writer wannabe I can easily see that she's a pleasure to work with because Oh mY gOd) I didn't really enjoy the scene. This has to do with the directing and not the acting or script, by the way.

I hate the shots. I just- I just hate the shots they use in this show, in general. Always. But this time it made me cringe in the worst moment because it's supposed to be a heartbreaking, captivating scene.

Diving the scene like the anime does is a beautiful thing to do, but the shots are just TOO. DAMN. CLOSE. So it doesn't look pleasant and it bothers me. Again, maybe I'm just picky.

Also, Luffy should've covered Nami's eyes with the straw hat. I know it seems like a dumb thing to say, but it's (in my opinion) one of the things that makes this scene so special and beautiful in canon. It's Luffy's way of telling her not to cry. He gives her his hat as a metaphor. Simbolism. A promise. Yadda, yadda, yadda. He gives her his most precious and important thing in the world as a way of welcoming her to the crew and showing that he trusts and loves her. As a way of saying "Here. Have this. I will help you and then I will come back for this later and you will be coming with me. You have to take care of it". He's literally referencing Shanks here, guys!!! He did the same with him!!! So it might seem stupid, but it wasn't hard to just use a shot to make it look like he had covered her eyes completely.

Leaving that aside, Emily's acting was outstanding and I can't wait to see her in Alabasta with Vivi because that's going to be insanely good for my soul.

Nami's flashback

I don't have much to say about it besides that the acting was awesome, the setting was really really gorgeous, and it's just how I imagined Nami's past would be portrayed. Lil Nojiko and Nami are extremely cute and talented and Bellemere was amazing.

However, I must say that I did find it weird how Nami is the one asking Arlong if she can work for him. Like I get that her plan was to buy the village back but, like- Just make Arlong interested in Nami first so that way she can come up with the plan and agree to his conditions.

Also, it doesn't make sense to use chains on Nami if she's willingly working for him and was the one to ask first. They treat her like a prisoner for no reason? To be honest they should've just changed that scene to the canon one to make Arlong force her to work with him.

Fights

I'm not an expert and despite being a fan of a lot of shonen animes, fighting isn't really my thing. I just sit there waiting until the actual plot starts again, not gonna lie.

But I must say that the Zosan argument about what Luffy needs (full of jealousy, by the way. Zoro, I know what you are!!) was pretty funny and Usopp was a delight to watch. The fight with Arlong happened a bit too fast in my opinion and they could've been way more creative with the choreography but, again, I'm no expert. I just know that the fight is like only the first 15 minutes and that's a big no-no when it comes to closing plots.

Once again, this is just a product of the overuse of the Marines and their screentime. They could've just changed the whole Garp plot and added more of Arlong Park (we will always miss you, Hachi. You deserved to be with us).

Post-Arlong Park

I don't have much to say about the party. Really cute. They're really sweet together and I enjoyed watching them acting like the family they are. Zoro and Sanji bickering is pure gold, Nami smiling as she looks around at her new life, and Luffy cheering Usopp up!!! That was the sweetest thing ever. I died. I loved every second of that scene because our sniper deserves all the love in the world.

Then Garp shows up and does the most unnecessary thing in the world. Which is fighting Luffy for no fucking reason and then walk away. Waste of time. Doesn't do anything to the plot. Incredibly boring, too. Hope they fix their dynamic and Garp's character (and the overuse of the Marine's screentime) next season. Although I won't complain if Smoker and Tashigi are on my screen 24/7 in s2 because I love them to death and Tashigi is my girlfriend (real).

Overall Opinion

I didn't hate Arlong Park, per se, but as a person who relates to Nami's character a lot (she's extremely important to me for a lot of reasons. I even have her tattoo!!) I can't help but feel a little disappointed at what her arc turned out to be.

That being said, I still enjoyed the last two episodes and I seriously think that the last scene (the crew talking about their dreams) is literally the best scene of all. In every way.

🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊🍊

If you're reading this, I love you for being so interested in my opinion <3 I literally just write these to put my thoughts into words. It's really fun!! But I'm aware that it can be pretty long JKZDBDJKSDHJK (I could talk about this show for hours). Also, if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, ignore them. I'm too lazy today to read all of this and fix them, ngl.

Tag: @leiatroublecat TikTok editing account where I post my OPLA edits: seraspring

[withleeknow]

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead. 

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.” 

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here.  “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 13.07.2024]

[libraford]

I'm not bothered by the conversation so much as I am a growing approach to activism which makes it impossible to interact with other people. Which echoes a lot of that conversation I had with Ginger this week.

He refuses to have friends that are not faithful to Jesus. Like, he can have a productive conversation with a non-believer and nearly connect with them socially, but if he learns that they don't go to church or don't believe in christ, he finds it difficult to take them seriously because their words were not god-inspired.

Ginger was in a cult. I do not mean this colloquially- Xenos/Dwell is a prominent pseudo-christian cult in central Ohio that preys on college students in need of community. There are rules about who you can date, who you can hang with, they practice gay coversion therapy, and will tell you not to visit your family if they're not Christian.

There is a lot of focus on purity. Actions, thoughts, social groups- it's very controlling about what you can and cannot do.

So. When he goes out into the world with us sinners, it becomes difficult to interact with general society.

We were talking about Merve, one of our foremen, and I said: "the first time I was in a car with Merve, he introduced himself as a Democratic Catholic Pervert. And honestly- yeah that's a good summation."

Ginger didn't like that at all. "Well he's not a very good catholic with all that talk of pornography, he should be ashamed of himself- honestly shouldn't even call himself Christian."

Merve is very much a womanizer, but it's all talk. He's gross about it sometimes and it rubs me the wrong way, but in all fairness- he warned me. Outside of that, he's what I expected from a 60-something landscaper.

"Well, I think whether he's a good Christian or not is up to God, not us."

And he got a little pissy over that comment because I caught him judging.

He only hangs out with 'the faithful' at work, which consists of three guys who are religious in a similar way and it's caused a bit of a rift in the culture. It's gotten a little... preachy. It wasn't preachy before.

So I am making... parallels to this behavior and a particular strain of activism that's been affected by purity culture.

Nothing is ever good enough. If it touches racism, it's banned forever and you have to spread the word about how it's racist. Where doing things that are well-intended puts you in the spotlight for the underlying and actually bigoted reason you're doing a nice thing. And prevents you from doing the nice thing in the future.

Because yes you did a nice thing, but it wasn't enough- you could be doing more.

Yes you did a nice thing, but you did this nice thing instead of tackling this bigger issue.

Yes you did a nice thing, but it was through this program that you didn't know was funded somewhat unethically.

Yes you did a nice thing, but your motivation for doing it wasn't the goodness of your heart, it was motivated by guilt.

Yes you did a nice thing, but it took a horrible event to do it when you should have had the morals of goodness ingrained in you and you should have done this from the start.

Yes you did a nice thing, but you only did it when it started impacting your life and you should be thinking of others first.

Yes you did a nice thing but the nice thing doesn't align perfectly with my worldview.

The goalpost is forever moving backwards.

No one likes to be called 'racist.' It's a really easy weapon to use when something does something you don't like. If you look at anything closely enough, you will see it's racist roots. You could say the same for misogyny, homophobia. Our society is built on hatred and inequality. Untangling it and living a morally pure life free of ridicule is impossible.

Recognizing the roots of an action to be bigoted is the first step. The second step is knowing it when you see it. Step three is pointing it out.

But there are more steps.

Pointing it out, or calling it out, and chastising someone for ignoring or not knowing something actually isn't all that helpful. Because it leaves you to wonder- okay, now what? What can I do to remedy this situation?

Which is the next step- actionable items. Yes, I have done something wrong- I am sorry.

I am sorry. Now I will try to make it right.

I will try to make it right by donating, by volunteering time, by listening to the people who have been hurt and lifting their voices.

Part of healing from an oppressive Christian community is realizing that people are going to sin whether you like it or not. And barring harm to themselves and others, you're gonna have to let them.

If my tarot practice is derived from a 15th century racist, then it was derived for a 15th century racist. Refusing to participate in a past-time that helps me connect with my family doesn't make it not racist. It will still be racist. But I'm not sure who it's hurting in 2024 and I don't have a time machine and I'm not being given clear instructions for how to unracist it.

[femmefatalevibe]

25 Life Lessons I've Learned In 25 Years

In honor of turning 25 this month, here are some lessons I wish someone could've baked into my brain by 18. Hope this helps xx

Putting yourself first is not selfish, it is an act of self-care. Actively discounting others is not the same as protecting your peace.

Pay attention to who gossips and keeps to themselves amidst an interpersonal conflict. Insecure people or those in the wrong will speak the loudest and go on the longest in a fight to prove their innocence. Individuals who are self-assured and comfortable with the truth know it's better to communicate their feelings appropriately and then move past it. Confidence is assertive, tactful, and relatively silent.

If you want to know who to believe in an argument, pay attention to how both sides speak about the conflict. The perpetrator will often speak about the individuals' character/morality while the victim will explain their personal experience in the context of the relevant situation.

Display empathy and consideration, but don't live to satisfy others' emotional needs and expectations. Say farewell to anyone who dismisses or guilts you for your own needs, emotions, priorities/life goals & aspirations.

Your needs matter. No one needs to approve or validate your desires. If someone feels they have control over you or tries to persuade you to change your mind to ensure you put their emotions and needs first, cut them out of your life. They do not care about you.

Almost no one deserves insider access into your life and mind. Upholding your right to privacy – especially regarding your finances, dating life, health conditions/concerns, and long-term goals – is the simplest way to protect your peace.

A friend to all is a friend to none. Be wary of those who will not stand up for you behind closed doors. These people do not care about you, they care about what your place in their life does for them and their ego.

Be radically honest and accepting of who you are. Don't apologize for your preferences, aspirations, and values. You deserve to live in a way that makes you happy, not to appease others in hopes of their approval or future favors due to your karmic good deeds.

You deserve happiness, love, and nice things, life experiences, relationships, and opportunities in your life regardless of what others may or may not possess/ be able to experience. Dispel this scarcity mindset ASAP. Jealousy and internalized shame are destructive to your self-esteem and all your relationships.

You are worthy and offer many incredible, unique gifts to the world. Don't allow naysayers, critics, or bullies (of any age) to dim your light or sacrifice pursuing your dreams. Decide you're the leader of your own life. Then act accordingly.

Direct communication is always the way. Remain tactful, but at least when dealing with non-manipulative people, always say what you mean and mean what you say. It will save a lot of trouble and petty disagreements that could've been avoided with clearer communication.

You don't owe anyone an explanation for your feelings, emotions, and actions that don't have a direct, inescapable impact on someone else. "No" is a complete sentence.

Approach conversations as a meeting of the minds. Healthy debate or conflict is about seeking to understand the other person, not prove yourself right. Leaving your ego at the door will allow you to expand your mind and avoid many unnecessary conflicts or arguments.

If it's not a hell yes, it's a no. For a job, date, sex, attendance at a time-sucking social event, family gatherings, an informal meeting not essential for you to keep your job, a wedding, birthday party, holiday invitation, etc. Outside of your contracted hours and time necessary to keep yourself/your home clean & well-maintained, you should spend your time exactly as you please. Doing things you don't want to do will only breed resentment down the line toward yourself and others.

Detangle yourself from any who refuses to self-reflect and take accountability. This person is selfish and will never see you as fully human with emotions, needs, and a complete life/internal world of your own. Cut them out (or at least fully emotionally detach and limit contact with them) immediately.

Speak your truth, but always say a little less than you feel necessary. Overexplaning and oversharing do you no favors. At a minimum, this approach allows you to protect your peace. In the worst circumstances, this tactic can also save you from a lot of trouble in your personal or professional life.

Learn to ask for a little more than you're comfortable with, but do so with grace, tact, and confidence. Whether it's a salary/rate negotiation, flight/hotel/restaurant accommodations, get in the habit of making that slightly higher/up-leveled request like you're expecting a "yes." You can't get something you don't ask for, so speak up and show you know your worth. This habit can bring a lot of great opportunity into your life and builds up your confidence.

Everyone is on their own timeline and path. Don't compare yourself to others' credentials, job titles, relationship status, net worths, or jean sizes. Comparison is truly the thief of joy. Remaining envious of others only takes up the energy that could otherwise be used to elevate or enrich your life.

Become clear on your priorities, and remain diligent with your habits & routines. Set SMART goals. Implement healthy habits and rituals into your daily lifestyle. Be consistent with goal-supporting and wellness rituals (generous sleep schedule, healthful eating habits, daily movement/regular exercise, reading, task time-blocking, cleaning, and life/work admin schedule), so they become second nature. Help yourself by creating these default habits to ensure your brain is wired for success whether you're in an easygoing era or a stressful life season.

Stop seeing other people (especially other women) as your competition in your profession/dating life and within your platonic relationships. Use your immediate criticisms as a tool for self-reflection. Actively deconstruct the patriarchy in every aspect of your life. Other women coworkers, dating prospects, and friends are not your rivals nor individuals who should be evaluated based on their assertiveness, sexual history/appeal, relationship status, or desire to perform traditional maternal/domestic roles.

Understanding how to interact with others in a cordial, tactful manner is significantly more important than having everyone like you. Learn how to positively influence people without seeking approval. What other people think of us is none of our business. All we can do is show up as the best version of ourselves, and remain optimistic about a potential connection.

Acceptance, accountability, and consistent discipline are the holy trinity to creating a sustainable change that you can maintain for the long haul. There's no shame in starting from the bottom, but you need to be honest about where you're at, so you can create a realistic game plan/small behavior-changing habits that stack up over time to help you implement the radical change you're craving.

Let go of any internalized shame. Being the "good girl" does you no favors in life. Set a standard and expectation to be respected, not to be perceived as "innocent" or submissive – this is how you get taken advantage of in professional, platonic, and intimate relationships. Remain ravenous for respect. It's the only way to live life to the fullest.

24. Investing in your appearance is a form of self-respect. Wanting to look & feel your best and present yourself in the best light possible to others is not a superficial pursuit. Remain unwavering about your hygiene/beauty/grooming routines, deliberate styling choices, healthy eating & workout habits, and mindfulness of social graces. You're your #1 publicist, so act like it. Life is all about embracing satisfaction with a sprinkle of reputation management.

25. Be unapologetic about your financial ambitions, priorities, investments, savings goals, etc. Financial freedom IS freedom. The only way to change the system is to break it from the inside out. Leverage is everything. Allocate, and assert your (financial) power wisely.

[retiredteabag]

soft Toji dog-sitting for a generous!reader

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6

synopsis: Toji was quite accustomed to objectifying himself for a check. And to be frank, far worse actions as well. Now he’s not sure what to do with himself after meeting the kind and generous owner of the dog he pet-sits for.

read along as Toji grows more comfortable around you despite his past.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Toji had stayed the night at many women's houses. At some point down the line, he started requesting they order him an Uber or something, but in the beginning, he was hardly at his own place. And for a brief period, when he was in a real desperate situation, he stayed with the women because he didn't have a place of his own.

That's why it's so strange to Toji, to feel apprehensive at staying the night in your home.

You won't even be there, what's it matter? He thought.

But then again, that might be why he's a bit uneasy about the whole thing. You were to be gone three days for a work event. And you had entrusted him with your entire place. He had showered and napped in your house, eaten your food and brought in the mail. He was comfortable to the point it felt like a second (much nicer) home. What he had never done, was stay the night. He certainly hadn't slept in your bed...

You had seemed overwhelmed and uneasy about the situation while walking him through everything. You had been on the opposite side of the kitchen island when you had said,

"I know this is so short notice, I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't even supposed to be on this trip, I asked not to go, but the other official called out sick." Your hands made grand and elaborate gestures and your dogs head wobbled as he followed your theatrical hands. "So now, I'm stuck, I have to go." You sounded upset.

"'S not a problem. So, what day does the trash go out, again?" He held back a grin as your shoulders drooped.

"Toji, you're my hero. Thank you. And Wednesday, don't worry if you forget to take it out though."

You had informed him that the dog would probably like it best if he stayed downstairs with him while you were away. Meaning-sleeping in the master bedroom. In your bedroom. On your bed.

Oh...kay...

He shrugged it off as you muttered some, "of course, I'll clean the sheets so don't worry about that..." And explained about the difficult relationship between the dog and the mailman. But he was too caught up in the fact that you were so trusting of him.

There didn't seem to be any uncomfortable air around you, other than your work-related stress around the trip, but you didn't seem to have a problem with this big-ass man spending a few days in at your place.

Toji had lots of appeal, and he had grown to know, the majority of it was sex appeal. And the fact that you clearly had no interest in that aspect of his abilities... made him feel odd. Any time he would throw a compliment at you, you would smile politely, and say something nice about him. Except it was always,

"You're so good at you're job!"

"I'm so glad I can trust you to look after my puppy!"

"I appreciate how efficient you are!"

it made his ears feel hot.

So did the smell of your bedsheets. In fact, your pillowcases had such an effect on him, on that first night you were gone, he found himself rummaging through your things to distract himself.

He meandered through your room, pulling books and sticky notes off dressers and walking through your closet nook. He intentionally did not open any drawers but when he stumbled upon a pair of pajamas lying on a bookcase ladder, he quickly turned around and went to examine the fascinating blanket collection at the foot of your bed.

Staying at your place meant he could sleep in if he wanted to, but that morning he got out of bed earlier than usual. He wasn't going to let his mind wander while lying in the same spot you lay.

He found himself pretending he actually lived in the space. Getting dressed. Feeding the dog. Making breakfast. All in the luxurious home he did not belong in. After some time he realized all of these fantasies included you. He imagined making coffee as you sat across the island, he imagined talking with you, as a normal person, over pancakes, or whatever the hell rich people ate.

Eventually, he had to shake the thoughts from his head as they began to seem too domestic.

One thing that carried throughout the days of your leave, was the photos. You had repeatedly told him to never hesitate to contact you, "And please feel free to send pictures!" So send pictures- he did.

On walks, in the back yard, while booping the dog's nose, after giving the beast a treat. He sent most to you but kept some for himself. You acted as if he was spoiling you with these images of your own canine, the hearted messages and polite, "This really made my day!" stuck with him, when in reality, you were the one spoiling him with how much you had given him for his stay.

Once upon a time, the money he had in his wallet would have already been gone. A real likelihood being that he took the cash and left the dog to fend for itself. Only naive people paid before the service was completed. But he was a different man now. Or so he told himself as he pondered how you must think of him.

You must think highly. To pay so much upfront. You must trust him.

That evening, after walking the dog one last time, he flipped his phone around in his hand while lying down, legs hanging off your mattress. It was late, he was wondering what you were doing and what he should spend his money on when he felt the vibrations of his phone.

He saw your contact pop up and was quick to open the messaging app. What he saw, however, confused him a great deal.

"I would like for you to not involve the police with this. If possible, do keep this event and its handlings between us, I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this."

He sprang up in the bed, his feet planted on the floor as he read and reread your message over and over. Confusion filled him, was this message intended for him? If so, had you discovered something about Toji's past? Or had you mistakenly sent the message to him?

What was this about?

He began to write back, only to stop. He wanted to see if you would alter your text, or confirm your mistake. When you didn't and he could not take it any longer. He responded.

"What event are we discussing?"

Immediately he saw that you had read his reply, and quickly he saw an ellipses appear. It faded quickly. He waited for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to say. "I would be unhappy if my colleagues heard about this" he knew you had discussed his working for you before with your co-workers before he distinctly told you he wasn't looking for more work.

Sick of all the waiting, he decided to call you. And as soon as the phone rang, it immediately went to voice mail.

Clearly, you had been in a hurry to avoid his call. Unsure of how to proceed, he texted again.

"???"

He had a sick feeling in his stomach as he rose to pace the bedroom. Finally a message arrived.

"Terribly sorry, that message was intded for my boss. I texted your ontact by mistake."

Toji tried to digest exactly what this meant. He saw the typos in your message and quickly wondered if you had ever been so careless before. He scrolled up to scan previous conversations but decided it was unimportant.

"I see" he began, he wanted to ask what was happening but he knew he wouldn't want anyone prying into him, especially if it involved anything incriminating. He tried to relax himself. Perhaps the comment had nothing to do with him, even so, he decided to call you again to clarify what had just happened.

In a harsh contrast to before, the phone barely had a chance to ring before you picked up. Toji knew he hadn't been thinking straight. But when he saw the call start he realized then that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. It wasn't but a moment later that he discovered that all of his unanswered questions were irrelevant.

He held the phone up to his ear and heard quick breaths from the other end of the call. What he assumed was a frantic exhale, came out more like a sob as he heard pained whimpers.

"Didn't mean to...sorry about tonight. It was my mistake." You were speaking very slowly, in a calculated sort of way. Still, your voice shook.

Toji was impossibly still as he listened to your voice. "What's going on, y/n?"

That night he would lay in bed, trying to sleep, and realize that this particular moment might have been the first time he used your name intentionally. In the moment, however, he was all too occupied to care. He wanted to come off as gentle and friendly, something he was completely unaccustomed to.

The line went quiet. There was a long pause before a throaty squeak came and a warbled, "...sorry" was heard. Just before the call ended.

Toji began to pace again, he called you once more before he decided that it might be best to not pressure you. He ran a hand down his face as he tried to write a text. But he had nothing to say, he was experiencing confusion and confusion alone.

Turns out, he didn't need to start the conversation again, in your never-ending kindness, you sent, "I'm sorry for all of this, this is a small matter with work at the moment and I did not mean to startle you. I see how it might have come off as concerning. I promise this will not effect you. I'm sorry. Please forget this occurred."

Relief flooded Toji faster than he could question it. So this didn't involve him. But what exactly was happening? He gave your message a thumbs up... but something was still stuck eating at his brain.

"Were you crying just now?" He sent.

He expected a long wait before you responded but, to his surprise you reply was prompt.

"Sorry about that."

And a moment later, "I didn't mean to involve you."

That feeling in his stomach sunk further as he stared at his phone. Unsure of what to say, your dog whimpered at his feet and Toji took a deep breath.

"I wasn't asking for you to apologize" he typed, trying to put his intentions into words. "Are you okay?"

He couldn't remember the last time he had asked someone about their wellbeing. So when you responded,

"Yes. I think so." He found himself slowly walking back to your bed. Staring at the floor as he sat on your comforter. He decided he wouldn't press.

He liked your message.

He laid in your bed.

And he tried to get the sound of your shaky breaths out of his mind.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

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[ivys-garden]

Wild Life Spoilers: Session 2 Alliance Report:

Teams:

The Spanners - (Mumbo, Grian, Skizz) - formerly the Sub One Club, immediately forget their idea of using crawl mode and lament that they can't be sub one anymore. Mumbo then decides they are “The Floaters” due to them becoming obsessed with the levitation ability. Luckily this doesn't stick because I could not handle an alliance that changes name every session. Mumbo and Skizz built their “base” as a series of bridges, leading to Mumbo calling them “The Spanners” since “they span things”.

Speaking of levitation, they died from that. And starvation. This was not Mumbo or Skizzes session, with Mumbo losing two life's and Skizz losing 3, halfing his amount of lives in one session. If Skizz loses one next week he will be yellow. Seems Grian's curse of outlining his alliance has started early.

The Bam-Boozelers - (Scar, Lizzie, Jimmy)

I normally have a lot of faith in all life series teams. I think anyone can make it to the end. I think this so long as it is not abundantly clear that they're doomed. I never say someone is Doomed from the star-

This team is doomed from the start. Immediately they decide that the Wild Card is that he can't heal from hunger, now this is a good first thought and is shared by other teams, though those other teams immediately realised that if that were the Wild Card everyone would die of hunger and started looking for other options.

These 3? They stuck with that idea and started making boats to travel. When they realised that their hunger reduced passively, they panicked until Grian saved them by telling everyone in chat that they could eat anything. Now, armed with this knowledge they just have to find a good and easy to use food source.

They chose stone shovels. An item that cannot be stacked and required way more effort and resources to make than was worth it. And they stuck by this even as others told them about better foods. They only stopped using shovels because of the randomisation.

How is Jimmy the most confident member on his team?

In other news, they're theme park is going well and Lizzie's Parrot is cute. Jimmy also apparently has “Big Mascot Energy”.

Renwood - (Martyn, Ren)

These dogs are just vibing. They each lose a life each, no big deal. A far cry from previous seasons, Ren is just chilling, Not going after anyone unless they go after them first and trying to get Martyn to do the same. And he actually does, not attacking anyone this session at all. He even gives up going after Jimmy for stealing their cows (an action which was by every account deserved.)

The Tuff Guys (Tango, Etho, Bdubs) (not technically together (?))

Ah yes, Team B.E.S.T without Skizz …. Considering Skizz was the only person keeping Team B.E.S.T from imploding, this can only go well!

Yeah this team is not staying together. Technically they're already breaking up, with Bdubs saying they should only look out for themselves and insisting they live in different houses. Bdubs even cements this mentality by fully encouraging Scar to help kill Tango for no reason.

As for the “Tuff” part, Etho has decided that they need to be tougher and take what they want from people. You know, not to be nice or polite.

Luckily we can see how this works in practice, as Gem encourages him to go be tough to the Final Girls, let's see how Etho is an not being nice:

● he greets Scott and Cleo

● makes small talk

● politely asks for copper

● tries to stop Pearl stealing from them since he doesn't know she's on they're team

● takes more of the stuff he was told he could have

● gives them obsidian in return anyway

● and still feels bad about it.

Yeah not only was this the least tough Etho had ever been, the Girls almost certainly didn't notice and probably won't even care when they do. Great job Etho.

The Fast And The Furious (Gem, Joel)

This session, Gem announced her plan to make friends so people don't judge them based on 5 seasons worth of going insane every time they go red. This lasts for 3 minutes before other people arrive, Scar misunderstands instructions, Etho lets the cops out and the Final Girls partake in their favourite pastime of miscommunication and insisting their own teammates are doing something they aren't.

Other attempts to make friends do go better, with Gem arguably being on good terms with everyone except two people. So that's good.

Gem also builds a cute little Bard that I give a session before it's burnt down or has a Creeper hole in it. Joel spends all session building a car. Everyone on the server thinks it's hideous, mainly because it is hideous.

The Final Girls - (Scott, Pearl, Cleo, Impulse, Bigb)

Somehow the most stable team here, even if it is mostly out of spite. Yeah this team will stay together, the core four have never betrayed anyone unless an outside faction is involved. They're safe. Even if they continue the tradition of forgetting all the bad stuff they did and only reimbursing bad stuff their teammates did (what do you mean Pearl doesn't trust people based on what happened in previous seasons? That was you, Cleo!)

Oh Bigb also joined this session. Though I imagine this will be a Heart Foundation situation where he bases alone despite being on the team.

Scott and Cleo spend a lot of time this session fixing the mistakes Pearl and Impulse make by acting how they always do. A house and wall are built and Pearl and Impulse prepare revenge plans on Grian and Martyn. Pearl encourages Impulse not to tell the others, seemingly forgetting that Cleo and Bigb are addicted to revenge and would have no problem with this.

Alliances and Friendships:

Lizzie and Gem

these two agree to team up if their teammates die. Since their teammates are idiots.

Remember, Lizzie is the one who made the stone shovel plan.

Spanners Vs Bammers

The Bam-Boozelers still hate the Spanners, dropping their reputation all the way to zero. Mumbo and Skizz either don't realise this or don't care. Grian was gone almost all session mining so can't really say what his thoughts on the situation are.

The Family - (Joel, Etho, Gem)

Etho is indoctrinated into yet another family, though he seems more willing to be present for this one. When Tuff Guys breaks up like 5 minutes into session 3, we all know where he's going.

Also Scar might also be part of the family though every else seems to just ignore this.

Spanners Vs Tango

The Spanners are really angry at Tango for accidentally killing Skizz. They seem satisfied with manifesting his death through belief, but it seems they haven't let him off the hook yet. We all know Bdubs won't help him

Joel might also be mad at Tango since he ate the wheels of his ugly car.

Mumbo & Jimmy still hate Renwood

Mumbo still doesn't trust Martyn after the enchanter fiasco and Jimmy attempts to get revenge for the cow theft. Ren and Martyn have chosen to ignore this, Mumbo seems to have forgotten he was angry, and Jimmy is satisfied that he got revenge.

Ren buys his friends

Ren bought Gem and Tangos friendship through iron. Will this hold up? No.

Gem has beef with team oblivious

Gem hates Pearl and Impulse this season. They are at the top of her inevitable murder list.

● The Final Girls came round for a visit

● Impulse was accused of stealing

● He said he wouldt stela since he knows what it's like to be stolen from

● Gem took this as him amusing her of stealing

● Scott cut him off before he could explain himself by saying he was purposely antagonising them

● Gem cut both of them off by ranting about how much she doesn't trust them

Stellar miscommunication guys, great job as always. Please never change, the series would be way less funny if you did.

Pearl also made it worse by trying to Poison Gem 30 minutes later. Woopsie.

Neither Pearl nor Impulse notice that Gem hates them and the others refuse to tell them.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Dogs II

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle x Child!Reader

Summary: You don't like Ona

Mum and Mummy break up.

That's what they tell you anyway.

They say they're not in love with each other anymore.

You ask if that means they don't love you anymore.

They say no.

You ask if that means they don't love Narla anymore.

They say no.

You tell them that as long as you and Narla can stay together then it's fine.

Mum and Mummy call it a custody schedule. It means that you spend two week sleeping at Mum's house and then two weeks sleeping at Mummy's house.

Narla comes with you too.

You have the same custody schedule as her.

Things are different now that you don't all live together. Most of the different things are at Mum's house.

Like Ona.

She's from the bad Manchester and she's been hanging around the house a lot. You don't know what to make of her but you don't like the way she's taken Mummy's old seat at the table or the way that she's been sleeping on Mummy's side of the bed.

She sits in the front seat of the car too when Mum drives to training and does other things like the laundry or the hoovering in the house.

It's weird because none of Mum's other friends do that.

You stare at the food in front of you, poking at it with your fork.

Mum sits opposite you and Ona sits next to her, both of them digging into the meal that Ona made after practice was finished.

You sniff it.

It doesn't smell like food Mummy would normally cook and you look down at the floor, where Narla is waiting.

You dump your food onto the floor for her.

"Hey!" Mum catches you doing it and you wilt a little at her stern voice. "That's not very nice. Ona cooked for us."

You wrinkle your nose. "No."

"Yes, she did."

You shake your head.

"Sorry," She says to Ona," She's not usually like this." She turns back to you just as you dump another forkful of food onto the floor for Narla. "Hey! Stop it! Eat your food!"

"No." You stick your tongue out.

"It's not a question."

You dump more food on the floor. Narla's having a lot of fun eating it.

You're glad she's having fun because Mum very quickly puts you on the naughty step to 'think about your actions' before she returns to the table to eat.

"I swear she's not usually like this," Lucy says," I've no idea why she's acting like this."

"It's okay," Ona says, though the pit in her stomach at not getting you to like her is deep," She'll come around."

Ona's not quite sure what she's doing wrong. She's good with kids. She knows she's good with kids. Everyone's told her she's good with kids.

She just isn't sure why she isn't good with you.

She's tried everything. Toys. Food. Tv time.

But you just don't seem very happy with any of it.

You shuffle away when she sits next to you. You don't play with the toys she buys. You feed her food to Narla.

Ona's unsure how she's meant to win you over.

She stews on it on the sofa as Lucy gives you your bath. She forces herself to take her mind of it by scrolling through her phone, stopping on a picture of Coco she took just last night.

"Pup," Ona hears Lucy say," Say goodnight to Ona, please."

"No."

"Pup," Lucy's voice is firmer than before," Say goodnight to Ona or I'll call Mummy and tell her about how bad you're being."

That gets you moving and you shuffle over to the sofa.

"Goodnight, Ona," You say begrudgingly. You make a move to leave before you catch sight of the picture on her phone. "Is puppy."

"Er...yes," Ona says.

You shuffle closer, hands resting on Ona's leg as you lean to get a closer look.

"Is not my puppy. Is it yours?"

"This is Coco," Ona says," He's mine, yeah."

"Is he friendly?"

"Very."

"He likes dogs too?"

"Yeah."

You turn to Lucy with a disgruntled face. "Why you not say Ona has a puppy? I want to see her puppy!"

Your sudden turnaround shocks a laugh out of Lucy.

"Sorry, pup," She says," I didn't know you'd want to see Ona's dog."

You turn back to Ona. "I love puppies," You tell her," Why you not bring your puppy to see me and Narla?"

"I can bring him next time."

You nod. "Good." You grab Ona's hand. "Got a story about puppies. For my bedtime story. Read to me please?"

Ona grins, tightening her grip on your hand. "I'd love to."

[a-spes]

| ALL THE THINGS I AM NOT - One shot (3.097 words).

| Summary - Since Peter Parker joined the team, things aren't the same anymore. Why does everyone seem to prefer him to you? (Inspired by that post from @th3-c0rps3-r0gu3)

| Tags & warnings - soft mom!Natasha Romanoff x adoptive daughter!Reader, former widow!R, angst with a bit of comfort, happy ending, R&Nat are insecure (they're trying their best), self-hatred, mention of past traumas, R is injuried (during a mission), mention of blood&death.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

You wouldn’t say that you hate Peter Parker. 

It is a strong word to describe your feelings, and you don’t like what it implies. You can’t hate someone who hasn’t done anything wrong to you, someone like him. He is the opposite of a bad person, so why I am feeling that way? He is nice. That’s what everyone is saying about him, and you know they are right, even if you don’t like to admit it. He always has that smile when you two are talking, answering you kindly even when you’re trying to test his limits.

It would’ve been easier to not like him if he had any defects, but he doesn’t. You’ve tried to find some, you’ve spent hours observing him, waiting for the moment he would make a fatal mistake, but the moment never came. You even started to question if he was human.

Natasha told you that humans make mistakes all the time, and that you can’t avoid them. It’s normal, she said, that’s what makes you one. You used to think you were better than that, better than everyone, but are you? When you look at the boy, you are not sure anymore.

He is everything I am not. 

You thought you were doing good, really. You made a lot of progress, and effort, since you've joined the team. Two years ago, most of them wouldn't even agree to let you out of your room. Now, you could talk normally to almost all of them.

You thought that you were doing things right with the team, but you slowly realised that your attempts are not enough anymore. You have made a lot of progress since the first time you set foot in the compound, no one will deny it, but you are not at his level yet. 

Two years ago, you wouldn’t even step out of your room during the day, barely sleeping when the night came around, and at best you would exchange wary glances with the team. You didn’t trust them nor they did, and even if you are now talking, it hasn't changed a lot. That’s something they never told you, but their eyes and actions have done it for them. These two never lie, not when you know how to interpret them.

They don’t even let you go on a mission alone, let alone attending the most important meetings. You think it is stupid because you are the most skilled of everyone here. Well, maybe it’s not true, you never managed to beat Natasha in a fight, but you are sure that you are at least as useful as them on the field. 

I am too young, just a kid. 

That’s what they call you, but the nickname doesn’t carry the same kindness as when it’s for Peter, their voices being tinged with disdain. Except when it’s from Natasha, you like it when she calls you nicknames. She doesn’t do it because she thinks you are not capable of handling yourself, but to remind you that you have time. The time to learn, to make mistakes, to grow. You both know that you will never be a normal teenager, it is too late for that, and nothing can erase the first years of your life, but the redhead is confident : you’ll learn how to live, you just need a bit of help. 

She is the only one that doesn’t seem to treat you differently, but you are not sure if she counts. You two are the same. You have been through the same things, and she is the one that brought you here, it is obvious that she wouldn’t let you go. 

She wouldn’t, right?

You don’t know. You are not sure of anything, everything seems to go backward since he joined the team. All the progress you’ve made? Gone. In a few weeks, he did better than you’ll ever be able to do, and you don’t even understand how that’s possible.

You can beat him in a fight whenever you want, no matter the conditions. Even with your eyes closed, and your hands tied behind your back, you would be able to put him down in a matter of seconds. You are fast, strong and attentive while he is clumsy, dreamy and weak. He can’t even use a gun properly, always missing his target when it’s moving, even slowly. Whenever you are looking at him, all you can see is a kid that has no idea what he's doing here but thought it would be fun. A kid that was given a toy, and thought that it made him the most important person on that earth, a hero.

I am everything he is not. 

Yet, they prefer him, so there must be something you are missing. Since he joined the team, he has created a strong bond with all the Avengers, even with Natasha. You thought your relationship with her was special, but it’s apparently not that much. You saw them laughing together, but you’ve seen worse when you witnessed the woman ruffling the boy’s hair. You are sure she would braid the boy’s hair too if it was longer. 

Well, maybe I hate him.

You have every reason to feel this way when he was stealing what’s yours, destroying what you had taken so long to build. Only, it somehow didn’t feel right. Natasha doesn’t belong to you, none of them are. They are humans, and humans have feelings, they don’t have to get along with everyone. That’s what you’ve learned from the redhead, but you only realise now that it is not only true for you ; you can’t force anyone to appreciate you. Yet, you would have liked to live up to their expectations, something the boy seems to do effortlessly.

He is always smiling, saying the right thing at the right moment, laughing with the others. Since he arrived, he has never made anyone angry, he never had one of those violent breakdowns where you would hit someone by accident. Natasha says it is not your fault, but you know that the others don’t think the same way.

Durings meals, apart from their missions, Peter Parker is the only thing they know how to talk about. Everything he does is praised. Even the things you were doing as a kid, things you’ve never been congratulated for because everyone had to know that, it was normal. Natasha said it was not, but you are not sure if you believe her yet because if it’s not, where are your praises? 

Maybe it is because they don’t expect anything from him. He is just a kid who’s learning, not a threat to be dealt with, let alone a weapon to train. No, Peter Parker is none of that. He is nothing more than a stupid kid who’s trying his best to save the city, and it’s a story you can’t bear to hear anymore. Just his name makes you feel as if your whole body is burning. It’s a feeling you can’t name, but you are sure that you don’t like it.

He is everything I am not. 

If you saved him that day, it is definitely not because you appreciate him. You even had a moment of hesitation before throwing yourself between him and that bullet, wouldn’t your life be easier if he wasn’t here? No, it wouldn’t. 

You didn’t want to take that bullet for him, especially not when this is the consequence of his own stupidity, but it was the obvious choice. You hate being sent on a mission with him because it is like going with a baby widow. You have done everything right, he has not, and yet you are the one suffering the consequences of his recklessness. 

If he had died today, it would’ve been your fault. You know it’s not true, but you can already hear them tell you that it is. That’s why you did it, because you know they value his life more than yours. It is not easy to accept that you are not the most important person on the team anymore. In fact, you have never been there since you joined the Avengers, but you believe that it was true before. 

Those people, they have powers and technology. They can do things you will never be able to achieve, no matter how hard you try. You hate that too, that feeling of failure. Yet it is not your fault if you are trapped in a competition that you can’t win. So you thought that, maybe, if you save their precious boy, then you would get the attention you wanted. 

I didn’t want to, but I did what I was supposed to. 

Except it doesn’t feel right. The Quinjet was quiet during the return journey. You didn’t even know where the boy was, and honestly couldn’t care less. You were even relieved to know that he couldn’t witness you in a moment of weakness, leaving you alone to inspect the wound left by the bullet. You told him it was nothing, but you lied, and you don’t even need to take a close look at your abdomen to know that.

However, it wasn’t the pain that was worrying you. The only thing you could think about was their reactions. Natasha told you many times that you are allowed to make mistakes, that it makes you human, not weak, but you know she is lying. You’ve already heard Fury scolding people for their mistakes, even the Avengers sometimes fought for the same reason, and you definitely don’t want to deal with that right now.

So when the Quinjet eventually lands, you go straight to your room. You were scared to step foot in the common areas in this condition because you knew your mom was waiting for you there. Maybe she had made your favourite meal, or maybe she decided to do the boy’s favourite. This time, you can’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes.

You’ve seen how she acts with the boy. She is so caring, always smiling, and her eyes are even shining. You don’t think it has ever happened when she is with you. Her expression is always tinged with sadness, perhaps pity. It is when you witness those moments that you realise that she deserves more than you will ever be able to give her : a normal kid. 

Maybe she realised it too.

Last night, she came home late, called in for a last-minute mission, and she missed your return by a few hours. She had no idea how your mission went, and even if she trusts you to handle yourself, she can’t help but feel concerned. She doesn’t like to know that you’re on a mission without her because anything can happen.

If Natasha was already worried, it is only when the following morning came that the feeling began to gnaw at her from the inside. She even started to bite her nails again. It was almost ten in the morning, and no one had seen you yet. They say that you are probably sleeping, and they might be right, but what if they are not?

She knows that some missions can be exhausting, and not only physically, what if it was one of those? You didn’t seem to be doing well lately. Despite the appearances, she noticed every little change in your behaviour, and she is sad to see you going backwards. She guessed that, maybe, you needed a little space, but she is no longer sure she made the right choice. She has the feeling that your relationship has deteriorated in recent weeks, almost as if you were avoiding her.

The redhead could no longer bear to stare at the hands of the medical bay’s clock, all she wanted to do was go, and check on you, but she couldn’t. She made a promise to the boy’s aunt. She glances at Peter who was asleep, he has been injured during the mission, nothing serious, he should be out of here the following morning. However, she promised her aunt to look after him when she couldn’t. 

She always keeps her promises.

Natasha didn’t bat an eye all night, but even if she had wanted to sleep, she wouldn’t have been able to. She couldn’t stop thinking. When the day came, she still had no idea what to do. Widows aren’t known to be good at expressing their feelings. The woman always felt awkward in her interactions with you, scared that her actions could do more harm than good. Maybe you weren’t the one that needed a bit of space. 

“How is she?” is the first thing the boy asked when he woke up that morning, but the frown on the Avenger’s face let him know that she had no idea what he was talking about. “We got a bit of a … situation during the mission” he explained, avoiding saying that his recklessness put them in danger, “we both got hurt, but it is nothing too serious”, he quickly added when he saw the expression on the redhead face changing suddenly.

The boy tried to reassure her, but it was too late. The woman barely heard him as she was rushing out of the medical bay. She was an idiot. She should’ve checked on you the moment she stepped foot on the compound, she should’ve guessed that you wouldn’t go to the medical bay on your own. You’ve always hated those places because it is where you are the most vulnerable.

It was almost eleven when she knocked at your door. She did it three times, but each of them was met with an oppressive silence. When she tried to open it, she discovered that it was locked. However, there isn’t a door in that world that can stop a widow. In less than a minute, she manages to open it, and enters the room.

She understands something is wrong when she sees your form under the covers. You would never stay in bed that late, being awake before she is most of the time. If at first she was hesitant to step in, she almost ran to your bed when you didn’t reply to her calling your name multiple times. Your sleep is so light that someone walking across the corridor is usually enough to wake you up in a flash.

She pulls back the covers without thinking twice about it, and the view she sees is definitely not what she would call “nothing serious”. The sheets are covered in blood, your blood, and you are not sleeping at all, she can see how you are struggling to keep your eyes open. She is not even sure you noticed her presence.

"Baby?" she tried to call again, but you didn’t react to the nickname either. "Baby, what happened? Talk to me, please, open your eyes", she said, kneeling by your side.

She shakes you slowly, but it has no effect. You don’t react before her hands grip your face, her nails leaving marks on your skin because of the brutality of her precipitous gesture. She is trying to open your eyelids to see your eyes when a whine escapes your lips.

You have no idea what’s happening, but don’t have the energy to ask the question. You just wish the woman would let you go back to your comfortable slumber, far from the pain, and that world of misery you were trapped in. But she doesn’t. Instead, she stole your blanket, leaving you shivering with cold, and she wouldn’t stop talking, worsening your headache.

When she takes you in her arms, being as careful as she could, she notices how cold you were. Yet, you seemed to be sweaty. She doesn’t waste more time, almost running back to the medical bay. You were hanging in her arms as a rag doll would, your head dangling painfully on the side, and the same was true for your limbs.

She held you firmly in her arms, constantly glaring at you, as if she feared you might disappear if she let her guard down. On the way, she kept mumbling things that you couldn’t understand, not knowing if those were really intended for you, or if it was a way to reassure herself. Maybe it was both.

When the woman pushed the medical bay door, she didn’t even need to yell for someone to come. The second the doctors saw you, they knew it was an emergency. 

It is only a few days after that they let you out of the medicine that was keeping you out. The first thing you felt was the pain you tried to ignore since you've been shot. A whine escapes your lips. You felt your mom close to you before you saw her. She probably didn't sleep or left or eat since you've been, no matter for how long it have been. You feel a bit guilty at the thought.

“Don’t you dare to do that ever again,” she whispered, holding you as close as she could against her chest. One of her hands rested on your back, gripping the soft fabric of your hospital gown, while the other one was stroking your hair, “you scared me to death …” she added, and you felt really stupid for not realising that she had always cared for you, and probably always with, but you were too blinded by jealousy to see it. 

“I am… sorry,” you managed to reply in a hoarse voice, “I was scared. I wanted to show you that I can be strong too,” you whispered, “I wanted to prove that I’m worth loving,” you eventually admitted, your voice being so low that, at first, the redhead wasn’t sure if she heard correctly. It broke her heart to realise that it was her fault. You didn’t need space, you needed her by your side, and now she was here, you wouldn’t let her go, holding her as you could, not minding the pain it caused in your abdomen. 

"But my little dove, you are already the strongest person I know, you don't need to prove it anymore to anyone,” she whispered, “and I will always love you, I won’t let you doubt it,” she added, letting you go to cup your jaws with her hands. She let her thumbs brushing your forehead before she kissed it, repeating the three words you were dying to hear the past weeks again, and again, and again.

You could both feel tears running down your cheeks.

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Tag list - @godhatesgoodgirls

[heartowan]

★WINTER VISITOR: jason todd x reader.

( first part here !! ; afab!reader, cuss words, smoking, sexual content ) ────────── ★

"It's you again." You murmured, your voice sounding extra quiet now that it was past midnight. You could see the tired look in his eyes as he sat down on the wooden floor of your porch, his legs stretched out in front of him, reminding you of the position he was in that day you found him bleeding right there, at that same spot.

It had been a few weeks, maybe two and a half... and there he was: the Red Hood, back at your house, looking up at you with those white shining eyes of his ridiculous helmet.

"Yeah, it's me." He said, and before you could even process or think about the modulated voice, he removed the helmet. Now, only the area around his eyes was covered by that little domino mask.

You didn't like smoking inside, so you often went out to the porch for this sole purpose. To smoke a blunt. It calmed you down, though you didn't enjoy the actual action of smoking that much. It was... er, alright.

You exhaled the smoke slowly, and that was when he noticed what you were doing. "Can I be really honest with you right now?" He murmured, still looking up at you. You offered a soft grunt as a response, and he continued: "I would never, ever, in any possible circumstance ever, guess that you were a stoner." He said, a light chuckle following his words.

You furrowed your eyebrows, something that you seemed to do a lot in his presence, but you weren't offended in the slightest.

"Well... uh, thanks?" You mumbled with little interest. "I do it mostly for the buzz."

"I guessed you'd say that." He teased, a little stupid grin on his lips, and you glared at him.

"What's that even supposed to mean?" You inquired, a faux-offended tone in your voice.

"Nothing, nothing." He snorted, leaning his head back against the wall.

"What are you doing back here anyway?" You asked, now moving to sit down close to him. Honestly, you didn't really mind that he was who he was right now. You were stoned, tired and... didn't give a shit. You'd probably still sit in the same spot if you were sober.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment. "Was passing by and saw you out." He looked over at you, watching as you sat down beside him as he spoke. "Can I have a drag?"

"Sure." You mumbled, handing him the blunt. Woah, now you were gonna share saliva with him. Where the hell was your life going?

You mimicked his position, leaning your head against the wall. The night was freezing. You two probably shouldn't be outside, but you were covered in your warmest clothes, and he didn't seem to be cold, so you brushed your own concerns off.

"I looked you up, by the way." He murmured, handing you the little joint back. "Not much out there."

You arched one eyebrow at his words. Oddly enough, this time you weren't weirded out. "And you're admitting it?"

"Uh, yeah." He shrugged, letting out a soft huff. "Trying to make conversation or something." You laughed at that. What the hell was this guy's deal?

You didn't seem to be angry at him, so he kept talking to you. The whole thing was unusual for both of you. Talking to strangers (sorta) and being comfortable while doing so wasn't something that happened often in your lives.

You two spent hours and hours talking, even after you finished the blunt. It was nice, and even though it was still freezing, you two weirdly didn't bother by it. Maybe it wasn't that cold.

When you woke up the next day, you were in your bed, all tangled up in your sheets. You didn't even know how you got there, but you felt light, like you had a good night of sleep. Also unusual, because every time you smoked, you had the shittiest sleep of your life, but it seemed like this time had been different.

You picked up your phone, and as soon as you unlocked the screen, there was a text notification from a contact that you didn't recognize.

It was a red heart emoji, just that, and the text said: "If you're wondering, yes, I was the one who put you to bed. And yes, I snooped around your room 😝"

You rolled your eyes at that and tossed the phone down on the matress.

★...

More often than not, your few friends noted how affectionate you were. Always giving them little touches, brushing hair back, playing with the strands, fixing their clothes, stroking their arms with your fingers, even tying their shoelaces. It was all so you.

You didn't have many people close to you, and not because you were a loner, simply because you valued your hodiernal connections enough and didn't feel the need to look for anything else at the moment. You liked your friends, in fact, you loved them.

So, when that guy in the red helmet started showing up at your porch at ungodly hours at least three times a week, you started to consider adding him to your circle of friends. It wouldn't harm anyone, he was nice, and your friends wouldn't know anyway.

He was surprisingly talkative with you. You always expected those harsh and violent vigilantes to have harsh and violent personalities even when they weren't doing their job, but he was cool. He talked about a lot of things with you just to keep the conversation going, and you thought it was cute.

"... so... hey, did you get a new lamp?" He asked as he flopped down aggressively on your couch, interrupting his own line of thought. He was asking you about the neighborhood cat before.

You nodded at that, standing across from him while you fixed the little Christmas hat that had fallen off your bookshelf. "Yeah, the other one I had broke. I kinda bumped into it."

He hummed at your explanation, and you recognized the sound of his helmet being taken off. Always, as soon as he got comfortable in your house, he removed it.

While you had some trouble getting the Christmas decoration to stay in place, he stared at your back. Taking in your little green and red pajamas, your slightly messy hair, the dark green socks on your feet, and the way you seemed to be struggling terribly to get the Christmas hat to stay up. Adorable.

He stood from the couch and walked over to help you. "Let me try." He said, gently nudging your hands away. You sighed and let him.

You watched his concentrated face as he tried to put the little red and white hat in a position where its own weight wouldn't make it tumble. He looked nicer up close.

"It's Jason, by the way." He mumbled, eyes focused on fixing the hat. You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"My name. It's Jason." He explained.

He already knew yours. You had told him a few weeks ago when you shared a blunt for the second time.

"Ah, alright." You mumbled back to him, trying not to sound surprising. Jason. It was a cute name, and it seemed to fit him. "Fits you."

He finally got the hat to stay up, and he turned to you with a big, proud smile. You found it quite adorable how much he smiled around you. You didn't know if he was like this all the time, but you chose to believe it was a unique thing.

You two just stared at each other for a moment, him proud of his achievement, and you thankful for his help.

"Do you know how profound your eyes are?" He blurted, making a stupid face at you. Truly, he was gazing deeply into your eyes.

"If this is you trying to hit on me, you're failing." You retorted, a little smile appearing on your lips.

"Just saying." He shrugged, stepping back a bit. "I fixed your hat. You're welcome."

You watched as Jason walked back to your couch, flopping down onto it once more and letting out a lazy groan. His eyes closed, and he let out a tired sigh.

"Rough night?" You murmured, sitting down beside him. Your couch was comfortable and fit up to three people. Most of these nightly visits were spent in it, talking away. It was all too cozy.

Recently, he had started placing his arm around you when you sat closely, that and gently caressing your hair. And, this time, it wasn't different. As soon as your head touched his shoulder, his arm was around you, and his fingers started threading through your hair.

When you got closer, spending time with Red Hood Jason became something like spending time with yourself. Despite the absurdly different lifestyles, you two had a lot in common.

Like physical touch as a love language, liking sweet tea, reading, staying up until dawn, and, of course, being each other's secret. Nobody knew about your midnight visitor, and nobody knew where he went when he became unreachable past midnight.

"Yeah, rough night." He said, his voice becoming softer as he steadied himself with your help, the help of your presence, of your proximity. "Just, like, lots of stupid people making my job even harder."

"I get it." You murmured, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He was to your left, his right hand playing with your hair while you half-rested your back on his chest. It wasn't awkward anymore. You weren't even sure it ever was. "It used to be like that at my old job, and then I got a job at that little bookstore close to Gotham U."

"Mmm." He nodded, tilting his head a little in your direction, but his eyes remained closed. "You think you'd recognize me if I went there in my normal clothes?" There was a faint smile on his lips as he muttered those words.

"Probably." You said smuggly. "That little mask doesn't hide much."

"True," he chuckled softly, his eyes fluttering open to look down at you. They still look tired, and you had no idea if you'd ever see him looking not-tired. Maybe cause you've never seen each other after a good night of sleep. "But, they hide the most important part of my face. You can see the color of my eyes, yeah, but you don't know what's the shape of them or anything."

"Makes sense. Yeah, I think I wouldn't recognize you at first, but I'd recognize your voice, for sure." You said.

"What? Is it special or something?" He smiled at you, his fingers giving your ear a light, playful tug. "I bet you wouldn't recognize that either."

You gasped dramatically, hand cluching chest as you looked at him with the dumbest smile on your parted lips. "How dare you doubt me?" You inquired, your tone dripping of sarcasm.

"I mean..." he mumbled. "I guess you might recognize it. I don't know... we'll- we might see it one day." He fumbled over his words, his cheeks reddening. You got him flustered by making fun of him.

You wondered if that guy snuggled up with you on your couch, mumbling and fumbling over his words because of you was the same guy that beat and killed criminals in the deeps of Gotham. How could he be so... him? People have layers, yes, but this man is unbelievable.

Everything went quiet for a few minutes, only the faint sounds of your breathing and the soft hum of the heater could be heard, but those were muffled by the pull of your gazes on each other. He couldn't stop staring at your face, at your nose, at your lips, at your forehead, at your eyes. Like he'd never seen something so flawless, so polished, so complete ─ all he needed.

And you stared at him, at his mask, at the paint around his blueish-green eyes, at his chapped, but rosy pouty lips, at his straight nose, at his cheekbones, his chin, the white and black locks that fell on his forehead, his ears and the small earings on them. Like you'd never seen someone so unique, that seemed to be right there for you. Just for you.

You sighed when the staring contest became too much, but neither of your gazes strayed. His eyes focused on your lips, and you'd recognize that look in any light.

"Can I be really honest with you right now?" You murmured, and you could see a little smile creeping on his lips when he registered your words. Or, his words. He offered a soft "mhm" in response. "I want to kiss you so fucking bad. I think I might die if I don't."

"You might die?" His tone was soft, slightly mocking. "I don't think I'd like for that to happen."

"It'd be all your fault..." you taunted, giving him ridiculous puppy eyes. But, he was ridiculous too, and they worked so well on him.

He simply chuckled at you, and in half a second, his hand in your hair was used to push your head closer to his face as he leaned in, capturing your lips in the softest kiss you've ever shared with someone. It was lazy, he wanted to adjust to your pace, to let you guide, and you kept it deliciously slow and delicate, your heads moving and lips touching each other in a way that was simultaneously so tender and so sensual.

His hand slid to your cheek, holding you closer and caging you in his embrace while you raised a leg and placed it right on top of his, draping it over his lap, almost to mimic his hold on you. He used his left arm to pull you even closer by that same leg, your chests touching as the kiss became more intense and your tongues met.

He parted his lips to invite it, and you gladly accepted, sliding it inside of his mouth and caressing his own languidly and in a pleasant way, earning a hum from him that you swallowed in your kiss.

The feeling of your lips on his, his hands on you, his tongue on yours... way more satisfying than you'd ever imagined. You didn't think he'd feel so good on you.

His hand on your leg pulled you on his lap, the kiss becoming sloppy as you both shuffled on the couch to get you into a straddling position, each one of your thighs beside and squeezing his, your knees digging into the soft cushions of the couch as the kiss started getting a little more intense.

After all this time knowing and wanting each other, even if the attraction was suble, you'd expected wildness, despair, hands clutching clothes, teeth clashing, lips being biten, but that wasn't happening. What was in the air was need, tenderness, longing, and comfort, almost like it was a normal Thursday.

But it wasn't, and the both of you knew that. It was something new, something that you had yet to explore with the other. You were, of course, stepping into uncharted territory, a land which you knew nothing about. How would it be from now on? He'd still come almost every night? You'd still text constantly? Would you still call him in between your breaks to gossip about your boss? Would things get difficult and complicated?

These thoughts made you pull back from the kiss. Fucking anxiety. The pleasant and wet pop of your lips parting would've made you smile if you weren't so preoccupied. "Sorry." You mumbled into his lips. "Thinking too much."

"Don't worry, I get it." His nose brushed yours, and his heavy, warm fingers slipped under your shirt. He was panting a little, his cheeks, lips and neck flushed. He wanted you so bad. "If... you just want to chill and hang out like we usually do, we can just try to go back to that. Don't overthink it, okay? This doesn't doesn't have to be complicated."

You furrowed you eyebrows at him. "I don't see how this would not be complicated." He smiled at you, at your words, at whatever. He was, honestly, just glad to have you there, on top of him, speaking to him with your pretty voice after he had your tongue down his throat.

"I mean... like, don't think too much. I know it's easier said than done, but I think we'll figure it out anyway." He explained, his words sounding so sweet as he obviously spoke in a way that you just knew was an attempt to comfort you. "I don't wanna sound stupid and mushy, I really don't, but... yeah, I want with you... whatever you want with me. As long as you're happy and satisfied."

"Jason, what the hell do you mean?" You mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. He laughed at your tone.

Saying his name felt weird. Until some time ago, you only called him Red Hood. But it also felt right, felt closer, deeper, maybe even made you feel warmer inside. The both of you.

"That I like you and I'm happy to be here, doing this with you." He said. "I don't know if it's too fast, maybe it is, but I'm in for it if you are."

Jason squeezed your waist, his eyes glued to yours as he waited for your response. His fingers caressed your skin, the palms of his hands heating up your sides while the pads of his digits squeezed your soft derm.

"I like you too." You whispered, almost afraid of your own words, but he was just marveled about how sensitive and sincere you sounded. "I'm in."

He offered you a gentle smile, warm and inviting, and you smiled back, your eyes crinkling at the corners. That sight reminded him of something.

"Take it off for me?" You looked confused at his request, a little curious pout on your lips. "The mask." Oh.

Carefully, your fingers reached for the black domino mask around his eyes. Even though you were excited to finally see what was under there for so long, you weren't hesitant. It peeled off easily, and you caught a glimpse of his temple once you started pulling it away ─ in five seconds, there he was. Jason.

He had black paint smeared around his eyes, but you could see him clearly even under the dim, warm lighting of your living room. You two were so close that you could see almost all of his lower eyelashes, but the top ones merged with the paint. You couldn't take that.

You wiped the oily paint away with the bottom of your shirt, just hoping it was washable. He simply let you. And in a minute, you finally had him there. All of him, all of his face.

"Your eyes are pretty." You murmured, hands now coming up to craddle his face. "Like, the shape."

"You think?" His voice was low and soft as he asked, and he received a nod in response. He loved when you complimented him, and you didn't do it often. "Kiss me?"

You just nodded again. You'd never dare refuse him. Your met him in a more certain kiss this time, now used to each others lips. He squeezed your waist once more, pulling you closer to him as the kiss intensified. Your clothed cores rubbed and chests pressed together with the movement, and you two grunted at the contact.

Your hands slid down to his shoulders, then to his biceps. You just had to grasp at them. And his own went up to your back, making you tingle. It was already too much, yet not enough.

You moved your hips against his, searching for more of that sensation from just a few seconds ago, and in no time, he was guiding the movements, his hands on your waist, moving you back and forth. The friction was delicious, and it made you both moan in each other's mouths, the sounds making everything so much more pleasant.

His mouth left yours only to press at your cheeks, going up to your temples, and then back down to kiss under your ear, then all over your neck. He just wanted to swallow you whole, but while he couldn't do that, he'd have to settle for kissing you all over.

He painted your neck with red marks, his lips sucking and leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses everywhere he could reach. Your hands went to his hair, sometimes tugging at his locks, sometimes caressing his scalp. He couldn't get enough of your touch, of your body against his, of your skin. He needed you.

You kept moving against him, rubbing yourself on his crotch to try and soothe the want you felt inside. You couldn't feel that much through your pants. They were thick to keep you warm, but you felt hot enough already.

Jason's hands around your waist lifted you up from his lap with ease, then guided you down to lay on your back on the couch, and you pushed some pillows to the floor on the process so you could fit better. He straddled your hips and pulled his shirt off all while you stared up at him with your pretty eyes.

You didn't hold back when you felt the urge to touch him, your fingers tracing his abs so carefully, caressing all of the skin you could reach without sitting up. His skin was littered with scars, and the ugly gash from before was healing slowly ─ it was still a red, long scar on his chest, its color showing that it wasn't fully healed yet, but much better than before. It wasn't that deep of a wound, but with him constantly having people beat him, neither of you expected it to heal quick and gracefully.

"I want you." You murmured quietly, a little embarrassed of your own words, but they were the ultimate truth. You wanted Jason and anything he could offer to you at that moment.

His eyes followed your hands, and he placed one of his on top of yours, pressing your fingers against his skin. "I'm yours." He whispered, and you wondered if he meant right now or from now on.

You looked back up in his eyes, and you felt heat pooling at your lower belly when you noticed the look in them. Like he wanted to consume you, and you wanted him to. Right now.

His hands lifted your shirt, bunching it up past your chest as he leaned down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth while his fingers softly grazed the other, caressing it. You slipped your fingers in his hair again, pushing his head against you, and you felt him move his hips against yours once more.

With that, you could feel how much he wanted you as well, as the bulge in his thick pants pressed against you even through the heavy layers. You wanted those heavy layers off.

"Jason," you mumbled his name, hands gently squeezing his shoulders. "Take your pants off."

You heard him let out an amused huff at your request, and he went back up to his previous position, looking down at you. He guided your hands to his belt, and you knew what to do.

Swiftly, your fingers unbuckled it, pulled it out of the loops, and tossed it to the floor of your living room, you both heard as it landed on the mat with a soft thud. You went for his button next, then for the zipper. You caught a glimpse of his black boxers, salivating at the mere view of them.

He helped you push his pants down and then tossed them to the floor as well. When he was free of his, he yanked yours away without warning, making you let out a surprised yelp, in which he delighted himself.

He laughed at the sound you made while he removed your green socks, and you glared up at him for surprising you. "Not funny." You muttered, but he shrugged playfully at you.

He leaned down to nuzzle your neck after he removed your shirt as well, the gesture reaking of the affection he felt for you. His hands splayed on your stomach as his lips and nose caressed your senstive skin, and you squeezed at his arms, your legs sneaking past his and wrapping around his hips.

His hands went for your ankles, caressing the back of them as he dived back into your chest and then down to the valley in between your breasts, then to your stomach, and then to the place where you wanted him the most.

His hands went back up to your sides now, but he brought one down to caress you through your panties, brushing a finger over the damp spot in them, and then one over your clit. He smiled at how your thighs pressed on his shoulders and then at you when his eyes found yours.

He kept rubbing that same spot through the thin fabric, stimulating your clit, but not too much. He knew you wanted more, both of you did, but he wanted to savor that moment, and you appreciated that, even if you were dying for him to just pull those panties off and have his way with you.

Jason hooked one of his fingers onto the waistband of your underwear and finally pulled them off. Unlike the rest of his clothes, he didn't toss those on the floor, placing them on the beside you instead so you wouldn't have trouble looking for them later.

He looked down at you, exposed to him for the first time, his mouth salivating at the sight of you wet, swollen, and flush all because of him. He didn't have the strength to tease you anymore in that moment. He just dove in.

His hand that was toying with you before went back to your empty side, pulling your body closer to him so he could properly burrow his face in your pussy while he ate it, and then it moved to press at your lower stomach, urging your orgasm on. His tongue lapped at you, into your soaked folds and at your swollen bud, which he sucked so carefully to make you feel pleasure and only that.

He kept a steady rhythm, using your moans and gasps as a guide for his pace. Your fingers played with his hair while you rolled your hips against his face, rubbing your cunt on him, using his mouth for your pleasure. He was so good at that, at making you feel good.

He slipped his tongue inside of you once or twice to test the waters, and you whimpered at that. He couldn't wait to bury himself in you. He pulled away from your weeping cunt, only to slip his boxers off, revealing his flushed length.

You pushed up to your elbows to have a better view of him, and he looked divine from head to toe. The messy hair that you had been toying with, his flushed face, neck, and chest looked so good under the warm lighting of the room, his hard and leaking girth that looked like it was made to fit you, the pathetic needy expression on his face, and yours probably looked the same too.

He let you take your time, let you stare at him. Your eyes were hungry, and so here his. You looked all perfect down there, looking at him, with your cheeks flushed, lips parted, messy hair spilling on the pillow, your beautiful body and legs spread for him. God, he wanted you more than he ever wanted anything.

Jason licked his lips, and once he'd had enough of your staring contest, he pulled you closer again by the legs. He leaned down to capture your lips in a heated, needy kiss, each one of his hands being placed beside your head to support his body while it covered yours.

Your hips were aligned, and he purposefully let his throbbing cock brush your soaked heat, giving you a little taste. It all felt so good, so right. Your arms went around his neck while they could, tugging him close, pressing your chests together, squeezing your breasts against him.

"Pull out, right?" He mumbled into your mouth, his eyes looking hazy. You nodded lazily. "M'kay."

He reached down in betwen you, not wanting to separate his body from yours, he wanted to feel the heat of your chests together. Carefully, he slid the head of his dick in between your folds, dipping it in your juices and rubbing it on your clit to make you even more needy for it, and then slowly, he slid the tip into you, a satisfied groan leaving his mouth. It was surreal, it already felt so good and he wasn't even all the way in.

You sighed in satisfaction, your eyes closing and your head tipping back against the pillow. You scratched his back gently, the slow scrape of your nails on his skin matching the languid rhythm he used to slide into you, stretching out your channel with ease. You were so fucking wet. He was met with no resistance, you wanted him there.

Despite being your first time together, it didn't feel awkward. It didn't feel confusing or complicated. It was him and you, just like always. Comfortable.

He let you adjust to his size, his lips peppering your jaw with tender kisses as you got used to the stretch and waited for the mild burning sensation to cease. Felt so easy with him.

Jason felt you move against him, trying to fuck yourself on his cock, and he smiled on your soft skin. He pushed up again to look down at you, his arms still on either side of your head. With your legs around his hips, he started moving, meticulously thrusting into you, searching for the most sensitive spots, feeling every inch of your gummy, warm walls hugging his length.

It felt like heaven, finally being inside you. Everything with you was so good.

He picked up the pace as you started breathing heavier, your eyes closing as you let yourself enjoy every single thing about this moment, about him in you. Pistoning in and out of you in a needy rhythm, he grunted and groaned so deliciously, blessing your ears with his sounds.

You felt yourself nearing the edge even more with each thrust. It all felt so intense. He mirrored your feelings, his eyes squeezing shut as he held back his own release, trying to hold up so you could come together.

Neither of you could speak at that moment, not even to mumble words of praise, the pleasure consuming your minds with equal intensity, taking up every space in your brains. You couldn't delay it anymore.

Your walls clenched around him, and you gasped, whimpered, and moaned at the sensation. You couldn't control the sounds coming out of you. Your eyes closed once again as your lips stayed parted, heavy breaths coming out of them.

As you squeezed his cock in pleasure, Jason had to muster all of his self-control to be able to pull out of you before he spilled all of his seed inside of you and fucked everything up. He couldn't break your trust like that. He pulled out, and in less than a second, his white, hot, and thick cum spilled all over your stomach and pelvis. He'd never cum like that before, so desperately. The sounds he made while he let his liquid pour over your skin without even having to milk it out with his hand were ungodly, so fucking lewd.

"Fuck," Jason gasped, his head slumping forward as he panted on top of you. "S'good." He mumbled.

You cracked a small smile at that, fingers going back to scratching his back when you could finally concentrate on something other than your orgasm taking over your body.

"So good." You echoed, eyes closing as he rested his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in the mixture of your scent with the smell of sex in the air.

"I'm not moving from here." He warned in another lazy mumble, his arms snaking around your waist. You chuckled at him.

"Okay." You muttered softly, one of your hands going to play with his hair. "We'll stay here."

"We'll stay here." He echoed your words as well, letting out a tired yet satisfied sigh.

Your eyes drifted up for the window for a second, and you noticed it was snowing again outside. It was all so magical, even if you were feeling sweaty and sticky.

You sighed, the sight of the snow falling relaxing you as well as Jason's body on top of yours, warming you up.

Wait, was the window open all this time?

☆

a.n: hello! I hope this is cohesive enough and not too too fast. it's my first time ever writing smut, so i really wanted to focus on that. thanks for reading!

[lazycats-stuff]

Hey cats, I was the one who sent you that anon that's alright with me, I don't mind but is an gen z reader yeeted to the dc verse be okay? I could picture Bruce almost growing white hair because of reader who is an epitome of ✨unhealthy coping mechanism✨

Oh yeah, a reader just yeeted in there... Some universe doing some shit and Bruce adopts him... While also losing his mind. I love it. Lets go. It's a bit short, but... I like it.

Summary: (Y/N) is Gen Z. Bruce is loosing his mind.

Warnings: unhealthy coping mechanisms, Gen Z ones at that.

Bruce knew that each generation is different. They have different opinions, don't like to be told what to do exactly, although that's more specific to the newer generations. That is something that Bruce knew all to well. Gen Z wanting to have a balance between work and personal business. Bruce could respect that. But one other thing that shocked Bruce about Gen Z is the fact they have so many unhealthy coping mechanisms.

How would Bruce know?

He has adopted a teen who simply got, according to Jason and other younger heroes, yeeted into their universe. Universe where Justice League and it's heroes are real. And where DC comic universe is real. (Y/N) was forced to explain to the entire Justice League what DC is, what does it contain. And that has only applied to comic books. Then he had to explain cartoons, movies, video games... Absolutely everything.

Bruce found it to be interesting, the entire multiverse essentially, all of them are carefully planned out... Bruce found them to also be a great source of information. What to avoid, what to do... It was an incredible well of information and has decided to investigate this even more.

And while doing so, keep (Y/N) close to make sure that he has the information he needs.

And while (Y/N) is a nice kid, he has some unhealthy... Coping mechanisms as he calls them.

First one being jokes. Humor is something that can help a person if they feel down. Or if they simply want to deflect. And (Y/N)'s sense of humor is rather... Dark, to say the very least. Bruce would more often than not get gray hairs if he heard (Y/N) joking about his will to live being gone. He knows that (Y/N) is not suicidal... Right?

Humor is simply used to deflect... Right?

Bruce didn't quite like how (Y/N) was chronically online. Sure, teens spend time on their phone, but this is borderline an addiction. Bruce has tried to solve the problem with putting restrictions, taking the phone away. Put settings that don't allow (Y/N) to be online from certain times. That was to try to make (Y/N) sleep better, since he's clearly online into the late hours of the night.

Bruce simply wants the only child in the house who is not on patrol to have a normal sleeping schedule. Is that a crazy thing to ask for? It should be a normal thing to ask for, right? Being chronically online is far from good. Far, far, from good.

Also, hyper fixation.

(Y/N) was more invested in fiction rather than reality. Which would be fine. If it didn't interfere with his life. In what way, I might hear you asking? He's been neglecting his hygiene, gets angsty and anxious if he is not near his hyper fixation. Bruce never knew that Gen Z is this... Bruce shouldn't say annoying, but this was getting out of hand. Rather fast.

Bruce had to take action.

Otherwise he would get a lot more grey hairs. Way more. Way more.

" (Y/N), go to sleep. " Bruce pleaded, suited up and ready to go on patrol, however, he can't go, knowing that (Y/N) won't go to sleep. And everyone needs their 7 to 9 hours of sleep. Besides Bruce and the boys that are... On their night job. To put it mildly.

" I'm not tired Bruce. "

A common response in the most recent days from (Y/N) to Bruce.

" I swear to God, I'll sedate you with ketamine if you don't go to sleep. I'll knock you out with it to the point you'll be sleeping for days. " Bruce threatened and then came the infamous two words.

Alright, bet.

Bruce was seeing red at the mere thought of those words. They were both taunting and dismissive. Not something to be saying to an already stressed father anyway. And while Bruce has grown to love (Y/N) as his son, he was going to lose his mind with him.

" Alright, here's a deal. You go to sleep and sleep through the night and I'll take you to see your favorite artist. "

(Y/N) tilted his head, frowning.

" Promise? "

" I promise you. I swear it to you. I'll get you VIP tickets. I'll make sure to take you myself and pull strings. But for the love of God and everything else, go to sleep! "

[blluespirit]

Overall NATLA Thoughts

Okay, now that I've watched the series, I can give my thoughts.

Overall, I thought it was good!!! I had fun watching it! I'd rate it a solid 6.5/10. It's nowhere as good as the original, but it was definitely enjoyable and made some nice changes here and there that I liked. There were also some things I was also Not a fan of too.

I said in another post that it's best to treat this like an AU of the original. There will things that are great and things that are bad. That's the nature of adapting something.

Having said that, I need to get my initial thoughts off my chest... here we go.

Things I thought were good:

Sokka's characterisation - I really enjoyed him! I thought Ian did a good job! He played the funny moments well and retained the underlying seriousness/cautiousness. It wasn't perfect, but I enjoyed the changes a lot and think it was overall a solid performance.

Zuko's characterisation - Like Sokka, I do think I was most satisfied with their performances. A lot of Zuko's moments from the cartoon are sometimes... well, cartoonish and definitely wouldn't translate to live action, but I think Dallas did a nice job at balancing Zuko's desperate anger and that occasional sassiness well.

Zuko and Iroh moments were great. Had me on the floor crying. As it should have.

The bending looks a trillion times better than the movie - I understand it would not have been easy for the actors but, overall, I was very happy about it.

The scenery was stunning. It just looked so beautiful. I loved it so much.

Absolutely ADORE that they made Zuko a good calligrapher and artist. I read a fic about a million years ago where Zuko is a fantastic calligrapher and I thought it was perfect and made so much sense, and now I can say it's canon. This is perfect for me.

S U K I

The Freedom Fighters were ✨ perfect

They were so real for making Oma and Shu lesbians

Koh, Wan Shi Tong and Hei Bai looked fantastic, but I have more to say about all of them below, unfortunately.

I actually like the change they made that Katara is Aang's sole waterbending teacher.

Aang is not perfect, and needed more goofy scenes HOWEVER, I did like how they've had Aang's guilt more prominent in the story. The original didn't do a very good job with that, imo.

Zuko entering is breaking and entering era by breaking into an impenetrable Earth Kingdom prison is just perfect.

In Masks, I like how Aang and Zuko got a longer conversation - that was pretty cute.

I liked how they changed Yue a bit and got her out of the arranged marriage... how Yue saw Sokka in the Spirit World before meeting him in the real world.

Things I didn't like:

Far too much info-dumping/exposition. So much spelling things out. It was not as egregious as the movie, and I get there's a lot of information that needs to be conveyed well and quickly... but sometimes it really took me out of the show.

Why are Mai and Ty Lee here.... I was hoping the live action would give them a bit more depth (and they might as it goes forward!), but why put them in season 1 at all if they're just going to stand around???

Some odd changes - putting this as one point, but there are some bizarre changes that didn't make sense to me, as they did not benefit the story or deepen the characters. I have two main examples: a) making it so Aang didn't run away from home, and b) making it so Zuko actually fights Ozai in the Agni Kai.

Characterisation of Katara was Not Great. I don't think I got many hints of the reckless, compassionate, badass Katara until the end when she fights Pakku and rallies all the women together to fight (which happens off-screen). She was sweet and kind, but she just lacked the fire that OG Katara has.

Azula's characterisation - Azula is desperate to impress Ozai and so her character is just…. brewing with anger, frustration, desperation. I was SO excited to see the Azula we are introduced too… perpetually and irritatingly calm, calculating and ruthless. She's perfect, she's terrifying! She's literally the character of all time. But this Azula had more Zuko vibes? I don't think there's anything wrong with giving Azula more concrete motivation by wanting to impress Ozai and establishing that Ozai is abusive to both his kids, but I do think trying to do that right off the bat is a mistake.

WHY is Wan Shi Tong here. I love Wan Shi Tong, but like I said: Why Is He Here? Why could we not have his iconic, ominous as fuck introduction from The Library, and instead he's introduced in a random season 1 episode giving Aang Information(tm) about the Spirit World.

When Aang gave Koh the statue, and then he just takes it and immediately lets all the villages go, and neither of them even say anything, I actually laughed out loud. Like, I am so sorry, but what in the jesus fuck was that.

Speaking of Koh - I think Koh is better the less we know about him. Roku saying ~all Koh wants is a family like the rest of us~ just pissed me off?? I like my Koh the Face Stealer Terrifying and Unknowable, thank you.

NOTHING EVER REALLY HAPPENS WITH HEI BAI!!?? where's my precious spirit bear?? Like Aang never really does anything with him and the replacement Koh story is boring and it sucks.

Bumi.... sorry I just didn't vibe with him at all.

Things I can't decide on:

Fancy spirit knife to kill the moon spirit annoyed me a bit, but I guess they wanted to Kuruk something to work with and a little bit more interaction with Aang which I get but idk. I really flip/flop on this one.

I've been very on the fence about having Azula (and Ozai) being in the show in season 1 in general. I'm not sure if it benefited either of their characters.

Azula & Ozai's dynamic - Okay, so, I think they're trying to give Azula more depth, right? They're trying to establish what it was like for Azula to live with Ozai and that she's also (like Zuko) trying to desperately prove herself to him, but Ozai using Zuko's... achievements to do that just felt so weird. I get he's doing it to manipulate her, but that just felt so wrong when in canon it's very obvious that Ozai just didn't give a single fuck about Zuko. Ozai pits Azula against Zuko by saying he's a failure, he's a bad bender etc. Azula is born lucky, Zuko is lucky to be born - like, Ozai says that to Zuko's face. I don't know if I am communicating this point very well, but it just didn't seem right to me??

Zuko vs Zhao in the Siege of the North... I genuinely do not know how to feel about it! I didn't love it, I didn't hate it. I don't know how to feel about Zhao telling Zuko that his mission is a sham and that Azula is the prized one... It feels like it's saying the quiet part out loud? In the OG we all know that Ozai sending Zuko on that mission was an excuse to get rid of him, but we can work that out, no one actually says it. And then Iroh just fucking killing him/mortally wounding him instead of the Iconic scene where Zuko reaches out to save him despite everything Zhao has done to him, but Zhao's own pride gets in the way from letting him accept help from Zuko.

Zuko’s crew being the 41st is not necessarily a bad thing at all!!! But I do just want to say that in the original, the attack goes ahead, and presumably, those soldiers die. It’s horrible. Zuko’s sacrifice is in vain, and it was always going to be in vain because the Fire Nation as it stands would not allow Zuko's compassion to win. Ozai would not allow it. While not necessarily a bad choice (all the soldiers bowing to Zuko on the boat was so sweet I loved it!) but I think it does take away some of the horror of Zuko’s story (same as it does with making Zuko fight back in my opinion) because the whole point is that Zuko did the right thing - and he was punished for it, and those soldiers died anyway.

anyway...

Okay!! got that off my chest. I know I just had a big whine here, but I still had a lot of fun watching this show. I think some of the backlash is a bit over the top and unwarranted. It was never going to stand up to the original - and that's okay.

Enjoy it for what it is!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 20: written but never sent

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer greatly enjoyed handwriting. Electronic devices irritated him to no end, as he felt that typing on them was so impersonal and trivial. Handwriting required careful thought, reflecting desires and passions in the shape of the letters, and capturing feelings in the prose... everything written by hand represented something intimate, at least to him.

That’s why, when he got a pen pal, it was inevitable that he would start developing feelings. He had contacted you as part of a school assignment, as both of you were studying the same Ph.D. in linguistics, and one of the tasks was to analyze how different people express themselves in writing.

All he had was your name and address, the strictly necessary information to send a letter. He was the first to send one, sharing some details about himself, why he was pursuing the degree, the work he did, and how he would apply the knowledge he was acquiring.

He patiently waited for your response, which arrived a week later in a small brown paper envelope with a maroon stamp. Your letter didn’t seem like just a required response to fulfill the assignment. You sounded genuinely interested in what he had shared, and you addressed every point he had mentioned.

What surprised him the most was that at the end, you talked about books he had mentioned and ended with a question:

Have you read The Resilience of Language? It's a great book that could help you a lot. I highly recommend it! Best regards, nice to meet you.

There was a question at the end. The answer was no, Spencer hadn’t read that book. He could have simply stopped there, taking your recommendation and using your letter to complete his assignment. But something inside him wasn’t content to just end the communication there; he thought it would be rude not to offer a reply. So, as soon as he received your letter, he took one of his notebooks to write back.

Spencer used one of his gel pens with a fine tip and deep pigmentation. If someone were observing him, they could say that all these actions reflected a sense of importance: selecting the paper, his best pen, carefully crafting his handwriting—all of this added weight to the act.

He sent the letter, still unsure, but hopeful nonetheless. He was amazed when he arrived at the building and found another letter in his mailbox, with the same characteristics as the previous week.

A year had passed since then.

Every week, without fail, you exchanged letters. By now, he knew you better than he had ever known anyone, as the semi-anonymity provided an extra layer of trust for sharing everything that had happened during your week. You started by exchanging generalities, talking about books, and discussing the Ph.D. classes. Slowly, you began to share less trivial things: how the place where you lived was, your job, elements of your identity.

In recent months, you were writing to each other as if you were close friends.

My migraines have improved, in case you’re wondering, and this week at work has been less demanding than usual. We only handled a fairly light case (if you can even call it that in my line of work), and I had time to analyze some of the works you recommended. How’s everything going with that guy at work?

When Spencer finished, he hesitated about how to sign the letter. At first, he would send you his regards, write some polite expression, or simply wish you a good day. But now, he felt the need to sign off differently.

Affectionately, Spencer.

He didn’t think you would notice, just a gesture of the growing trust between you. He patiently waited for the postman to deliver your reply, and after several days, he eagerly read your words on the paper.

I’m disappointed about the guy. Turns out he’s a jerk, you know? Sometimes I wish I could meet someone who can genuinely love me, without focusing solely on the physical. Maybe it’s bold of me to say that, but I think you understand. I want a connection that comes from appreciating who I am, with someone who shares my interests, someone respectful, intelligent... but I won’t bore you with my romantic nonsense. The point is, I’m not dating anyone at the moment. I’m focusing on our Ph.D., haha. I hope you’re doing well, and I look forward to your reply!

However, he was quite surprised when he read the signature that followed your name.

Yours sincerely…

Had you signed that way in response to the dedication in his letter? Something felt strange within him, and his chest warmed with an unfamiliar feeling.

For a moment, he wondered if there was any possibility that he could meet the expectations of the special person you described, and when he realized he was imagining himself with you in that kind of scenario, he felt embarrassed.

It was ridiculous to think about. You didn’t even know each other, and you lived miles away, you were just friends who had taken a school assignment too far.

Time passed, and the signatures grew more affectionate, more personal… just like the content of the letters. It got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore: he was in love.

Though after realizing it, he spent a long time wondering what he should do with that feeling. Weeks passed before he came to a decision.

Spencer was returning from Maine when he decided to finally write to you. He was sitting on the plane, with his notebook in front of him, and his mind as blank as the page.

“What are you struggling to write, Reid?” Emily asked, sitting beside him “You’ve been staring at that notebook for ten minutes without the pen touching the paper.”

“It’s nothing,” he murmured, trying to downplay it. He didn’t want to talk about it, not with Emily, not with anyone.

A couple of hours later, with a pile of crumpled-up drafts beside him, he finally managed to write something:

I can’t start this letter without first telling you how much I’ve come to value our correspondence. For over a year, our written conversations have become one of the most important constants in my life. Each week, I eagerly await your letters, and every one of them brings me a pause in the middle of my routine: a space of calm where our words connect in ways I never imagined possible. I’ve read and reread your letters so many times that, sometimes, I feel like I know them by heart. Even so, I always discover something new in your words: an idea that eluded me before, an emotion that makes more sense over time, or a reflection that sheds new light on my own experience. Although we’ve never met in person, I feel like I know you better than many people I speak to face-to-face. Is that strange? Maybe it is, but the truth is that there’s something about the depth of our conversations that transcends physical distance. All this time, I’ve tried to rationalize what you mean to me, but there are things that can’t be measured or analyzed logically, no matter how hard I try. What I want to tell you —and what has taken me so long to write—is that I’ve fallen in love with you. At first, I wasn’t sure what this feeling was. I thought it was just admiration or gratitude for the friendship we’ve cultivated, but with each letter, with each shared thought, I realized it was something deeper. I love you, not just for what you share with me, but for who you are. For the way you see the world, with such clarity and empathy. For your insatiable curiosity, for your unique way of finding beauty in the smallest details. I don’t want this confession to make you uncomfortable or push you away. I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same, and I’ll consider myself lucky just to have known you in this way. But I couldn’t go on without being honest with you. I hope that, whatever your response may be, we can remain the same two friends who have shared so much through these pages. With all my love, and praying to be able to be yours, Spencer.

He kept the written words as if they were a treasure, feeling his heart race every time he thought about that secret tucked away in an envelope on his desk. Unfortunately, that letter never saw the light of day, all because of his fear of losing who might have been the best friend he had ever had in his life.

[hypewinter]

You know Duke doesn't get nearly as much love within the dp x dc fandom as he deserves. That man has as much potential as the rest of them and to prove it, I give you the following scenario we see a lot of:

Danny as Duke's brother

Danny reincarnates because after a long time as a full ghost, he wants to experience living again. The only problem is that he reincarnates to some pretty crappy parents. They never wanted him and they make it blatantly obvious. Luckily, Danny's best friend and his family are incredibly nice. They celebrate his achievements when his parents are too drunk to care and let him sleep over all the time. One day Duke's parents make the sleepover permanent and Danny never has to go home again (it isn't until years later he learns the Thomas's persuaded his parents to give up their parental rights).

Thus begins Danny's life as the second Thomas son. And honestly life starts going pretty good for Danny. Who knew having healthy and loving parents would do such wonders on Danny's development and mental health? But then tragedy strikes. Their parents disappear and the two are placed in foster care. Duke reassures him that everything will be fine. That they'll stick together no matter what. But Duke keeps disappearing at night. He claims he's looking for their parents, but he never lets Danny go with him (This is to protect him). And suddenly all of Danny's unprocessed trauma from this life and the last comes flooding in and he gets this intense urge to keep Duke in his sights at all times. So he becomes Duke's shadow.

He sneaks out after Duke and gets back before he does. He makes sure to keep just the right distance so that Duke doesn't notice him but he can also jump into action if need be. Anytime Danny loses sight of his brother, he panics. He practically goes feral until Duke is in his sights again. Danny is determined to keep his brother safe. He doesn't want to end up all alone anymore. He wouldn't be able to handle it.

As time passes, Danny begins to believe this will be their new routine. Him constantly chasing after Duke. Constantly worrying if this is the day he'll be left all alone. And things only get worse. Because it turns out their parents were jokerized and there's nothing to be done about it. So Danny's hope that one day he could get his perfect little family back in dashed on the rocks. Then Bruce Wayne comes and offers to foster them and Duke agrees but Danny silently doesn't.

He knows who Bruce Wayne really is. He knows that he's training his brother. He knows that he's taking Duke away from him. He knows there's nothing he can do about it. So Danny sinks even further. He stops following Duke around. Then he stops going outside all together. He starts pushing everyone away (that way it'll be easier when they eventually leave him).

Meanwhile on Duke's end, he notices his brother pulling away. He noticed for a while actually. He just thought that Danny was having a tough time during this transition period so he gave him some space. But then Danny keeps shutting people out and so he starts taking things a little more seriously. Duke starts trying to coax Danny out of his room. He tries to get him to talk about his interests again. But all he gets is angry lash outs instead. Finally Danny says something that makes Duke angry and a massive confrontation ensues. This of course leads to a heart to heart confession time and finally Danny opens up. He spills everything and the two brothers embrace in a tearful heart to heart. We end with Danny slowly starting to interact with the others at Wayne Manor (And getting some much needed therapy too).

Whether Danny joins Duke on patrol is up to you

[smutinlove]

DICK GRAYSON—SFW ALPHABET

—Sugar, spice, and everything nice<3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Dick is very affectionate. He loves hugging you and grabbing you by your waist, pulling you against his chest. He is all for PDA. Honestly, he loves seeing people get uncomfortable when he's kissing you. That's just the dick inside him.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Dick is the kind of person that loves teasing people. But he's also a very kind person at heart. (Some might say he's a softie<3) He's the type of man that'll make you feel very comfortable. He's also a very overprotective person.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Dick loves cuddles! He strives for that physical touch and closeness. He's the big spoon, I swear. He loves enveloping you and hugging you every night before bed.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Contrary do popular belief, Dick can cook. He does not just live off of cereal. Dick is a master chef, taught by Alfred, of course. And being the eldest among his siblings also meant that he'd have to pick up after a lot of kids.

But that does not stop him from settling down. Sure, he used to be an acrobat in a circus, meaning he never stayed in one place for long. But I feel like it was pure chaos. And he'd definitely want to settle down with the right person.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Dick is a gentle person and would definitely go to you with a soft and kind expression. But Dick will always regret breaking up with you. Why? He probably broke up with you because he was in one of his depressing moods. (Feeling like he isn't good enough for you, etc..)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Dick is loving, caring, and exceptionally passionate. But he also suffers from eldest daughter syndrome. He feels like he isn't worth it, that he isn't good enough, causing him to cripple with self-doubt and self-hate. As the oldest child, he feels that it's hard to voice out his opinions. His throat starts to close in and he can't force the words out.

But his heart aches for you. You're his heroin. And he would love to have you as he fiancé—better yet, his wife. And he would love to be your husband, but then again, he's afraid he'll hurt you. (I wanna give him a big hug)

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Dick is the definition of gentle. (Search it up, love.) His touch is soft and caring. He always makes sure he doesn't overstep any boundaries.

He's also scared both mentally and emotionally. But does that stop him from whispering sweet things in your ear? No.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He loves hugs. Dick hugs you whenever he gets the chance. His hands usually fall down to your midback. And he always ends his hugs with a squeeze.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He's quick with his hands but not his words. It would take him a long time to say it but that doesn't mean he doesn't care for you. If his words can't express his undying flame of love for you, his actions definitely do.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's definitely the silent type. But his actions speak like a megaphone. If another man is flirting with you, he'll occasionally tug at your dress and pull you closer to him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

He likes to take his time with you. His kissed can sometimes be soft and slow, making you melt like ice at his warmth.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Dick's amazing with kids. I mean, come on. He is the oldest among all his siblings, meaning he has had to take care of a lot annoying little urchins.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He's a morning person. He'll wake up at the crack of dawn and start cooking breakfast for you. And when you wake up, Dick will give you a kiss on the cheek and serve you breakfast in bed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Although Dick's a morning person, he's a bit of a night owl. Sure, he'll be gone some nights to due him having to patrol the streets of Gotham/Bludhaven. But mostly, he'll spend his nights curled up on the couch right next to you.

Sometimes he'll even go for a movie marathon with you.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

At the start of any relationship, he definitely wouldn't reveal anything too personal. He definitely likes to reveal things slowly once you progress more into your relationship. His night time job is one of the things that'll take a long time to reveal to you. (Especially if you're a civilian.) And his history of being assaulted and raped is also a touchy subject for him. He won't bring it up unless he's ready to tell you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

In the past, he's definitely lashed out on people. But now, he's more calm and patient with most things (he legit had to don the mantel of the bat) But then again, it's canon that he's short-tempered. If he sees you doing anything even slightly self-destructive, he will be livid. Even the thought of you getting hurt angers him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Dick has a pretty great memory. He knows if you have any allergies, what your favorite flower is, your favorite color, food, etc.. He's lovesick, I swear. <3

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The first time you and him kissed. Whenever he thinks about it, it sends butterflies down his stomach. His hands on your waist, your arms wrapped around his neck... ugh

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Dick is protective of you. He does not like seeing you get hurt. But later on, he starts accepting the fact that you can take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean he won't protect you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Dick puts effort in everything he does for you. Every detail needs to be perfect or he'll crack. He plans out what he'll be doing for each date and anniversary months before.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He's a perfectionist. He feels like he needs to be perfect. Dick also has the habit of bottling up his feelings and never talking about them. He grew up with a lot of siblings and since he is also the oldest among them, he felt obligated to take care of them. He also made sure to never let his facade fall down. :(

(i love you, dick. i swear. i wanna give you a hug so bad but you're not real.)

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Dick definitely has definitely adopted a skincare routine over the years. I mean, he has been fighting villains for years, can't a man have something for himself? Anyway, he definitely cares about how he looks. He isn't self-absorbed but he cares.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

You're his heroin, with and without the e.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Dick Grayson listens to 80s music. I can already imagine him playing something from Bruce's playlist and jamming to it with no shame. I mean, the man has THE ass in Gotham. Why should he be ashamed?

+he loves material girl by madonna

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Dick dislikes people who wouldn't help someone when they are in the middle of a crisis. Maybe it's the fact that he is a vigilante. He loves helping people.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He either sleeps for 17 hours or doesn't. There is no in between.

Dick has a love-hate relationship with sleep.

───── ❝ authors note ❞ ─────

ugh this took three hours. why? i started doing other shit. well, here it is!!! anyway i love soft dick grayson so much like he would definitely whisper "dont worry, love. ive got you." ngl i write smut sometimes but 9/10 i would not want rough sex

i prefer someone gentle omg

what am i doing

fuck

[babiigirly]

MC with anxiety and depression

pairings/mentions: brothers x reader

cw: anxiety, depression, bottling up emotions, very slight spoilers of the OG!OM, not proofread (lmk if there's more.)

A/n: i will write the dateables and maybe the undateables as soon as I free up my schedule. For now, I hope you enjoy the brothers' part and that it brings you at least a dash of comfort:))

Read more: Babi's Masterlist

~ ~ ~

Since coming to the Devildom and growing closer and more comfortable with the brothers, you've promised yourself that you know better than showing how vulnerable you can get in times when your anxiety kicks in and your depression takes over.

You had always wished for a new start, a fresh one, away from those who left you all alone feeling the way you do. You had seen the exchange program at RAD as an opportunity to do just that, to forget about your life in the human world and become a new person, to try and be someone with lots of potential.

Of course, the first few months of your life living under the same roof of 7 powerful demons was chaos, but you told yourself that you won't let that break you, even though you know how close you are from falling apart. There were times when you experienced anxiety and panic attacks and your emotions getting the best of you, and you have no one to turn to, so you stay and attempt to keep quiet in the privacy of your room.

However, time passes by, and you've finally found a place for yourself in the House of Lamentation, you wondered how long it would take for you to finally show how you truly are to the brothers as you feel your mental conditions getting worse.

Your secrets were not completely unveiled, but symptoms and tendencies that occur often begin to concern the brothers, royals, and purgatory boys. They know how it feels. They've been there, but they don't know if it works the same for humans. But still, they don't stop there, and they decide to help you with small gestures.

Lucifer would reduce the works you have to do, both at RAD and at HoL. He invites you to his office or his room, insisting he needs to be kept company, but truly, he just wants to see as you relax and slowly fall asleep from whatever you decided to do as you enjoy the silence between you two, away from his brothers and all the chaos around you. Lucifer will never bring it up to you or be verbal about it. Instead, he tries to tell you through his actions that he's here for you no matter what.

Mammon makes sure he's always by your side to make sure you're laughing and having a great time. If he notices that you're being overwhelmed by his brothers and everyone else, he wil, drag you away from them and bring you to a good hiding plave with a nice and relaxing view. He will never pressure you or anything, but once he notices that you're bottling up your feelings again, he tells you that he'll keep it a secret if you cry and he won't judge you at all.

Levi invites you to game with him or sing in karaoke or watch anime or read manga, whatever it is you want. Even if he thinks he's not good at whatever you choose to do with him for a change, he will try his best at it if it makes you feel better. It's also not that he's forcing himself, but he wants to try other things for the first time, and he thinks it would be more special if he first tried it with you. Levi will try his best to comfort you. He would be awkward about it at first because he's scared he'd say something that will make you feel worse, but he still tries. He will refrain from insulting himself too in the middle of it because he knows it won't do anything good,

Satan reads books on understanding human feelings and conditions. He also reads to you whatever book genre interests you, what book you choose, or the book you bought in the human world or the Devildom, wherever it's from. He takes you to bookstores, too, as well as in cafés and to feed cats in the streets. He will do hobbies that are peaceful, not stressful, hoping it relieves you at least a bit. He will also tell you that it's okay to feel emotions, that you can go to him, and he will do anything to make you feel better. Of course, like everyone else, he will not make you feel like he's pressuring you to do so.

Asmo is a really bright demon! He's a ray of sunshine honestly, bringing positivity everywhere, reminding everyone especially the people he loves to love themselves. He would invite you to do spa with him, have a massage, skin care, and basically any self-care activities. If you're not up for it, however, he hopes you would stay with him still and he praises you, complimenting you over and over again until you tell him to stop if you want him to. He tells you he's here for you and that whatever you're going through will pass. Would tell you he loves you very much and he will help you with whatever you struggle with in your self-care and well-being. ♡

Beel offers you food, but it's okay if you reject it! He takes you to his practices and hopes to entertain you. If you want, you two can try cooking together, he promises he'll try to stop himself from eating the ingredients before you even get the chance to cook. Beel is very warm, and though he's very muscular and big (unless you have a different headcanon of him), he is still so nice to hug because he makes you feel so safe and protected. He doesn't want to let you go when he knows you're not feeling well, he wants to hug all your sadness away and make you feel better again. Like Lucifer, he won't be verbal with it. He will show his love and care for you through his actions.

Belphie says he sleeps to forget about loneliness and sadness, but he knows that's not how it always works. If you ever need someone to talk to, literally about anything, he will be the one to listen. He will try not to fall asleep. He does think that your voice sounds like a lullaby that comforts him in a way, knowing you're next to him. He wants to do the same for you, to help you feel comforted and not judged for your feelings. He cuddles with you, you can be the big spoon or he will be, you decide. He tells you he's always here for you and that he will try to understand you like how you did for him.

~ ~ ~

Read more: Babi's Masterlist

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Finish What I Started

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara  x f!reader

Summary: After being called away while he's between your thighs, Miguel comes back to finish what he started.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, brief angst, oral(f receiving), fingering, brief somno, kissing, dirty talk, pet names( baby, good girl), kissing, unprotected p in v, creampie. Let me know if I missed anything

WC: 2.3k

A/N: I know reader starts off sad but don't worry, Miguel fixes it with his dick lol I was determined to make Miguel his regular dirty self, but spice it up with a bit of angst. Also, no explicit consent for somno given by reader beforehand, but I wrote it as if there is general consent within the relationship to do so. As always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!!

For the past few months Miguel has been gone more than usual. He's home a few days then called away again and it's starting to weigh on you. He's just returned from a week away and he's finally back. He was taking care of some 'business', which he of course doesn't tell you anything about. You know it's for your own good, but sometimes it would be nice for him to open up a bit about his work. At least vent to you. You know he's under an extreme amount of stress and it would do him some good to open up about it.

But of course, he tells you he doesn't want to burden you, even though you've told him a thousand times that it wouldn't. He does have his own way of communicating, though. It's just usually through actions instead of words. Like when he holds you close and locks you into a needy kiss and you can feel the desperation and all his pent-up emotion. It lets you know he's back where he wants to be. Home with you.

Which is where you are right now. He kisses down your stomach, taking his time not only to savor you, but show you how much he's missed you. He makes it to your folds and places a few light kisses there before diving in. You let out a long sigh, reveling in the feeling you haven't gotten to indulge in for what feels like forever. He never fails to take your breath away, though. The way his tongue glides against you and prods at your entrance. You wrap your fingers in his hair, lightly dragging your fingers across his scalp and he leans closer into you, and he groans.

His hand comes up to join his mouth, and just before he can push a finger in, you hear it. That dreaded sound. A high-pitched ring accompanied by a buzz, letting you know he has to leaves you. Again. You try to put things into perspective any time he gets called away and try to find the restraint to not get on your knees and beg him not to go. You know he helps people, and he puts his life on the line for the greater good, but you can't help the sadness that blooms in your chest each time.

He doesn't say anything, just pulls his mouth from you and rests his head on your thigh, letting out an exasperated sigh. A pathetic whine falls from you lips in return. You cradle his head in your hands and hold it against you, silently pleading with him to stay. He gently pries your hands off and kisses each wrist before sitting up and tapping his watch, answering the distress call. He shares a few quick, and quiet, words with someone before leaning back down to you.

"Baby-" he starts. "I know," you respond, sounding dejected, and he looks back at you apologetically. He knows he asks a lot of you. You live your life around his work and are always left waiting for him to return. The unpredictability and the time away are a lot to deal with. You do it happily because you love him, but he knows it takes a toll on you. It takes a toll on him too, and he finds it harder and harder to leave you every time.

 He kisses your forehead and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. "I'll be back as soon as I can. I promise." He pulls you in for a kiss, then makes his way to the door.

You hear it close and are immediately overwhelmed by the emptiness. It's dark and the silence is deafening. You look over to his side of the bed and pull his pillow into your arms. Usually, you'd at least give yourself a pitiful orgasm to let out a little of the sexual frustration he left you with alongside the emotional, but you don't have it in you. You roll over and hold the pillow close. You can smell him on it and the comforting scent lulls you to sleep.

Miguel returns in the dead of night, and he shuts the door softly behind himself to avoid waking you. He was only gone a few hours, which is something of a rare occurrence. Turns out he just had to assist in a little damage control and then he was racing back home to you. Part of him was hoping you'd still be awake, but he knows that'd be unfair to expect of you. It breaks his heart to think of you curled up in bed, sad and alone, waiting up for him.

He walks into the bedroom, and he's met with a wonderful sight. There is a feeling burning hot within him at the sight of your exposed backside. He ripped the pleasure from you upon his departure and is determined to give you what you deserve. He wants to express how grateful he is that you stay by his side, giving so much to him and the relationship. That you are the most important thing to him and that he cherishes you above all else. These are things he makes an effort to tell you all the time, but right now he wants to show you.

You wake up to a pulsing heat in your core. You're on your stomach, one leg hiked up, and Miguel's pillow still held against you. Your eyes flutter open, and you attempt to roll over, but two pairs of hands hold you in place.  You let out a soft moan and you shake your head, clearing the last bit of haze as you become fully conscious. That's when you feel it. Miguel's tongue firmly, yet slowly, rolling against your exposed nub.

"Miguel?" There's a slight drowsiness to your voice. It doesn’t last long as you exclaim his name at full volume when he slips a finger inside you. "I'm here, baby." He lifts his head long enough to offer you the reassurance and flip you over, then he resumes his position between your thighs. He slips two fingers in this time. You gasp and you grab the pillow beneath your head.

"You're home," you pant out and he chuckles. "Yes. I am. There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

He brings his thumb up to your clit while he speaks to you and rubs in slow, teasing circles. "I left you all desperate for me. That wasn't very nice, was it?" He asks and you quickly shake your head 'no' as you tilt your hips up and start grinding your hips in time with his movements. "Did you touch yourself when I left?"

Again, you shake your head and let out a ragged "No," and he cocks his eyebrow. "Why not?" He asks. You don't answer as he starts moving his fingers faster and biting across the flesh of your thighs. "I bought you that wonderful little toy to keep you company when I'm away." You blush as you think about the vibrator sitting in your nightstand. It was a very thoughtful gift, and you do get a lot of use out of it, but there's no substitution for the real thing.

 "It's not the same," you moan. He lets out a pleased hum at your answer. "I want your fingers…your mouth… your cock." Your last word is punctuated by a whine as he probes deeper inside you. He groans and you see him grind his hips into the mattress. "Well, I'm happy to give it all to you, baby." He places his tongue back on your clit and before you know it, you're cumming around his fingers.

"That's it, good girl. God fucking girl," he praises, admiring the way your arousal gushes out of you and down his hand. When he slips them out of you, you pull his fingers up and into your mouth. His breath hitches as your tongue slides along each digit. When he looks up at you, you can see the desire dancing in his eyes. His kisses up your stomach, across your breast, and up your neck until his face is hovering over yours.

"That's two out of three. You gonna give me your cock?" You speak in a teasing tone, but you're dying to feel him inside you.

He chuckles. "Happily."

He sheds his clothes and settles between your thighs. "How do you want it, sweetheart? On your back? Stomach?" He asks, wanting to give it to you exactly how you want it. "Um…" you take a second to think and realize what you really want. "I want to feel your arms around me while you fuck me," you respond, looking up at him through your lashes. He nods and moves your body into position. He puts his arms under you and flips the both of you over. He plants his feet onto the mattress and wraps his arm around your waist, using it to move slide you up and down his length, effectively coating him in your slick. The friction feels wonderful, and you gasp when his tip catches on your clit.

 Once he feels he's properly lubricated, he slowly guides himself inside you. You both breath out a sigh of relief at the feeling you've both been waiting so long for. He's got one arm around your waist while the other goes to cradle the back of your head and he pulls you into a heated kiss. Your shared longing and need are apparent in your movements. You slide your tongues over each other's messily and only pull apart when you become desperate for air. Then, urgent with need, you begin grinding yourself down on to him, earning a throaty moan from the man below you.

"I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?" You nod and nip at his lower lip. "Please, Miguel. I need it so bad."

He starts slow, stretching you out deliciously and you melt around him. You drop your head to his shoulder and nuzzle into his neck as he picks up the pace. His deep, steady strokes cause pleasure to ripple over your body. You can hear his ragged breathing and the noise of your skin slapping together and it adds to the warmth building in your belly. You begin placing sloppy kisses on his neck and nipping at the flesh. That always drives him crazy, and he holds you tighter against him. He grips the back of your neck and starts pulling you down to meet his thrusts.

"Oh, god baby, you're gripping me so tight," he groans, speaking against the crown of your head. He breathes in deeply, relishing in your scent. You whine into his shoulder as you feel him fucking you at just the right angle. Pleasure pulses through your veins and you can tell you're close. So can he.

"Let go, baby. Make a mess on my cock. Wanna feel you squeeze me." You keen at his words as they vibrate against you, and it has you tumbling over the edge. He grits his teeth as your walls quiver around him and you babble out thank-yous and sweet nothings while you ride out your high.

Before you can fully come down, he rolls you over and before you know it, he's rutting into you again. He pushes your legs up by the back of your thighs and admires the way his shaft disappears inside you. "You take it so well. This pussy was made for me, wasn't it?" He brings his thumb down to circle your clit and you writhe under him.

"C'mon, say it." he brings his other hand to the back of your head and angles so you're looking at him.

"This pussy was made for you. I was made for you" you say, raggedly. He moans at your confession before wrapping his arms around you once more. You're completely enveloped by him now. By his body, his scent, and his sounds. It overwhelms your senses int the best way and you can tell you're about to succumb to the pleasure again. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, holding him to you, and run a hand through his hair. You give it a tug each time he hits that soft spot inside you and he groans at the feeling.

You gasp with each measured thrust, although they're getting sloppier, and you can tell he's close too. You'd love to cum with him, so you contract around him again and again. Now he's the one whining into your shoulder.

"I'm never leaving again. I wanna stay buried inside this pussy forever," he admits, breathily. He voice is barely above a whisper, and you think he's saying that not only to you but himself as well. You know he will inevitably leave again, but he speaks with such passion. So, you both let yourselves believe, even for just this moment, that it's true. When the words leave his mouth, you allow yourself to let go.

You arch your back and drag your nails across his skin as you let the ecstasy wash over you. It pushes him to his own release, and he presses his lips to your forehead, and you feel him twitch inside you. You pulse around him, and he stills as he spills himself inside you with a strangled moan.

He pulls away and cradles your face, looking deep into your eyes. "I know I'll have to leave again, but I will always come back to you. Always." He vows.

"And I'll always be here when you do. Always," you reply, then seal your promise with a kiss.