#idk this is something that's just been on my mind a lot

[7ouls]

im REAAAAALLY sorry for the likje longest wait ever but in the meanwhile i've wiorked on my oc too so i'll prob post abt it soon. sorry if this is short or bad but it took me a long time to get motivation to write this 😓

(this isnt proofread so if u see any mistakes dont mind them i’ll correct them tomorrow cause im too tired)

fem! reader btw

Daisuke never liked to rely too much on other people, he was always told how annoying he can be so that would make him even more of a weight than he already is.

Although he can’t complain when his girlfriend is the one who gets to take care of him. After what happened at the Tulpar you could see big changes in his attitude, he tried to smile at you but you can see that it’s not the same genuine lovely smile he used to give you in the past, when he was still on earth with you.

You were his girlfriend before he got the news from his parents about the internship and no matter how much you tried to convince him to not leave he still did, promising you that he’d come back for you. He wasn’t wrong, but this isn’t what you were expecting.

He had many scars around his body, barely able to move. He was put in a wheelchair for a few months, just until the scars have healed and he could get back in feet.

Daisuke’s parents found him a therapist, ignoring the boy’s wishes not to. Because after all he had you, you were the only one who he opened up with about what happened to all of them, about how guilty he felt for them. You were the one holding him in your arms after he cried on your shoulder for hours, you were the one changing his dirty bandages but most of all you were the one that loved him.

At nights like this you liked to wait until Daisuke was sleeping to leave him on your shared bed and go out your balcony to watch the sky filled with the city’s light, and when days were harder you took the hidden pack of cigarettes and light one up.

As you were watching the sky above your head you felt moving inside the house but didn’t think much of it, as it could be your pet just wandering around.

Your presumption turned out to be wrong as you heard your name be yelled from your bedroom, you quickly get inside to check on the voice and found your boyfriend on the floor. You run to him and slowly get him back on your bed. He pouts seeing your worried face checking for any damage.

“Are you okay? How did you get down there, most importantly why were you th-“ He stops you before you can bombard him with even more questions.

“I’m sorry Y/n, i just needed to drink something and when i saw that you weren’t here i tried to take it myself but i couldn’t...” You could see the disappointment in his eyes, you thought he might be feeling like a weight on your shoulders so you tried your best to comfort him.

“Daisuke look at me. You don’t have to apologise, it’s my fault. I should’ve been there for you but i wasn’t and i’m sorry about that. You shouldn’t force yourself to move too much, the doctors said that your body is still too fragile to sudden movements.” The boy looked at you, the mention of doctors saddened him.

“I’m so tired of these doctors, i sometimes wish you could be the one treating me instead. And the therapist girl always keeps trying to make me spill stuff, is it wrong that i don’t want to talk about it? She keeps asking about you a lot too, she might be thinking that you know more than her.”

“She wouldn’t be wrong, if it makes you feel any better i could try speaking with her.” He tiredly nodded at you and you both get back in bed, drifting off into sleep while holding him.

“Goodnight Y/n, i love you.”

IDK HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS. i weote it in 2 hours so maybe that why its so bad and yea im so tired idek what im saying

[hiraethwrote]

VENT SESSION LETS GOOOO — you’re allowed to scroll if you don’t care mwah

i spend an ungodly amount of hours on this app, and i look at you as my friends so just want to let you guys know

i am also a very nosy person myself, so seems only fair i share my own situation. but if you don’t care about all this, you can just keep scrolling. i honestly don’t mind lol

anyways… a few weeks ago, i told you guys i was going through something that was kinda heavy — yeah my bf and i were going through some stuff and started seeing someone professionally… we broke up

there was an understanding that this might be outcome when we first opened up this can of worms, and there turned out to be a lot of underlying issues that both of us had refused to acknowledge

it was definitely a mutual decision. though it’s a hard pill to swallow, we came to the conclusion it was the best for the both of us

we want such vastly different things in life, things neither of us should compromise on. to me, life came at me a lot faster than i anticipated and felt like there were things left unexplored — and neither of us want to hold the other person back from what we want

however, this is a person i have been with for six years, a quarter of my life. there’s obviously a lot of shared history which is hard to let go of. it’s also so incredibly painful when we’re not splitting due to lack of affection and love for the other person, but because our desires and wants in life just don’t align

he is still my best friend, and because of how our life situation is, we will continue living together as we have been doing for the past three years (he only lives here half the time due to work), until i move across the country when summer comes. we’re also going to celebrate christmas together because it just feels right lol

i would say i am doing as well as i can… we are obviously on good terms, but this is probably one of the hardest things i’ll go through. it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. but that is really just a sign that the time we’ve shared together haven’t been a waste. we can be proud of the fact that we’ve been honest, faithful, respectful and kind throughout the entirety of our relationship, to the point where this is so hard even though it’s the right decision

obviously, i am very scared of the path that lies ahead. he has been by my side for the better half of a decade, and i have the privilege of exploring things on my own. it’s obviously what i have been missing in my life, so i am excited for what’s to come, but terrified of living a life he’s not going to be such a big part of anymore

but things are going to be fine. idk how long it will take, i am suspecting very long, but i know in my bones this is for the best for us both. so with time, i will be happy

and not to worry, i have a fantastic support system. i have incredible friends who are there for me. i am lucky to have a family who is not guilting me about leaving a long term relationship, despite also being sad. and i’ve learned i have a great community on here who has showed so much kindness, and i am so grateful <3

that being said — i am not planning on taking a break from tumblr lol. if anything, i am starting to get out of my writers block. this past week i have written more than i have the last month so that’s good! i think i might try and be a little more productive than i have been the past few weeks (at least i hope so, work is picking up again hehe)

not putting this out here for sympathy or anything, but just a little update. i am interested in the lives of those i follow, so maybe some of you are interested in mine

wishing everyone a nice weekend 🫶🏻 i got work in the morning (day after the breakup that’s fun)

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

thoughts on the wicked movie?

oh I am preparing for that like one would prepare for a battle lmfao. wicked has never been my favorite show, but it is extremely good, and I honestly don't know how this movie is gonna go 😭

I'm mixed on the cast- ariana is super talented, but 1) she's worryingly unhealthy and It Shows in the trailers, and 2) quite frankly I still think the role should have gone to dove cameron. cynthia's out of this world but 1) she's a bit old for the role, which is fine, but a lot of times I find adults playing teens and twenty somethings very...unbearable (sorry kimberly akimbo 😔) so I worry it could turn into a green evan hansen movie moment and 2) honestly she really did annoy me with that meltdown over the fan edited poster lmfao like I still love her but it's hard not to cringe now lol. jonathan bailey has a beautiful voice and will kill it! ethan slater I think will actually have a little breakout moment and the public opinion on him will sway. I don't mind bowen yang but I also don't understand why he's there. goldblum, yeoh, and dinklage can do no wrong. idk anything about the girl playing nessa but honestly nessa sucks so I don't mind going in blind on her lol.

I think it's dumb as hell that it's being split into two movies- I know that's the general opinion of everyone, but it still needs to be said. the only good songs in act 2 are 'as long as you're mine' and 'for good'. there's not enough to entice people who aren't already diehard fans to come back for more- and like, the first rule of adaptation is to assume the audience isn't familiar with the source material. so I PROPOSE. that the best way to drum up excitement for part 2. is making glinda and elphaba's feelings for each other explicit instead of subtext. I think jon m. chu WOULD do it, but I don't know if the studio and producers would allow it. we shall See. but that's my big prediction for the movie.

I'm also mixed on jon m chu directing because like. listen I love that he did in the heights and had like a huge delayed theater kid awakening moment I really do love that for him. and in the heights WAS a great movie- but a lot of the changes that were made really bugged me lmao. not all of them, but a lot of them. and obviously, since he's dragging it into two movies, changes will be made. theoretically they could just add a bunch of stuff from the book, but like, if they make cuts from the already solid stage story to add in completely new characters and plotlines (like they did for in the heights) I just! don't know that I'll like that sorry

plus the fact alone that they've been trying to make this movie for 20 years like. it has a HUGE shadow to outshine and I Hope it'll pull it off but I don't know that I'm confident it will?

all that being said I WILL be seated in a theater recliner seat wearing pink and green and drinking a cocktail. this is like the superbowl okay.

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

And I will call it home, this curse of ours (despite, despite, despite)

Day 7 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: tim drake x reader (gender neutral)

length: 8.2k

genre: horror, fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: vampire timmy, werewolf reader, reader gets shot and it's pretty bloody, lots of blood talk actually but in a vampire way, fade to black rooftop smut scene idk guys

a/n: pls god I hope everyone likes this one I fell asleep with my face on my desk writing it. but it's the classic !! I had to finish the event with the classic. ask me abt the jason todd cameo that I couldn't find a place to fit in

"Oh, god, not this again." You're walking down one of the endless streets of Gotham, your hood up and your shoulders hunched, when you hear someone sigh and groan while the person she's with goes on and on.

"No, I'm serious. There's something wrong with those Waynes -"

"You're just jealous because they're rich and they run the city. Come on -"

"No, I mean it," he insists, stopping to stand on the sidewalk and frown at his friend. You stop abruptly, too, nearly bumping into them from behind before you make a sharp turn to veer around them to keep walking. Thankfully, they don't pay you any real mind. "They're vampires - I know it. If you would just listen to me -"

"When are you going to stop believing in those ghost stories? They're not real," the woman is insisting, but you've trailed too far away by that point to hear the rest of her sentence.

The Waynes.

The biggest vampire coven on the coast. The only vampire coven left in Gotham.

And yes, they run the city, you think dryly as you continue to weave through winding, narrow streets and look up at the sliver of moon that just barely shines through the damp, foggy night. Yes, you think, they're unbeatable - and they've got the nasty, self-righteous responsibility of keeping this city in check.

A bat flies somewhere overhead and you flinch before huffing and shaking your head. Stupid, you think as you drag your feet. Stupid to move to a place that drove out your kind centuries ago. Stupid to come here knowing that it would carve a bloody target onto your back. Stupid to think that you could just keep your head down and stay hidden and let the rest of the world pass you by.

"That's impossible," Damian says indignantly, sniffing as he crosses his arms. His eyes glow in the dull glint of the Cave and a swarm of bats fly overhead.

"It's not," Dick huffs, frowning down at his brother. "People have been talking about it, I'm telling you."

"There are no werewolves in Gotham, Grayson," Damian snaps, stomping away. "Father's made sure of that." Dick looks to Bruce as Damian disappears in the shadows of the Cave, swept up by the darkness and the crushing echo, and Bruce just sighs thoughtfully. 

"It's a war that we won centuries ago, Dick," Bruce says in a smooth, deep rumble. "The wolves were driven out of my city a very long time ago."

"I know," Dick snaps. "That's why it's - Don't you think it's strange? What people have been saying? Wolf prints in the forests by the manor, rumours of people seeing some kind of creature in the city at night, it's -"

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, Dick," Bruce says placatingly as he holds up his hand. "I'm only saying… if this is true… if wolves are back in Gotham, that means war is back on our doorstep. We need to tread carefully, that's all."

"Might be fun," Tim chirps, silently slipping into the conversation between the two of him, his fangs glinting as he grins. "I've always wanted to really see one."

"Don't be reckless, Tim," Dick groans. "They're dangerous. Don't go out and get yourself -"

"If there really is a wolf out there," Bruce continues, ploughing over Dick and Tim's squabble, "it'll do us no good to have people grow suspicious. This needs to be dealt with quietly. Those of us in the shadows… must remain in the shadows. You know this."

"Yea," Tim snaps his fingers and turns to Dick. "How's that, uh, situation with the gargoyle doing, hm? You dealt with that one yet?"

"I'm working on it," Dick snaps, crossing his arms and letting his fangs glint through the darkness. 

"This coven is stronger than we ever have been before," Bruce continues, ignoring the feud in front of him. "There's no reason for this to get out of hand. However… we'd be fools to think this thing has really come here alone, and killing it quickly will only bring the rest of the pack. Tim," Bruce spins to face him and Tim straightens under the attention. "Find the creature - track it, find out what it's doing here."

"What - me?" Tim splutters. Bruce merely turns and begins to walk further into the Cave, leaving the two of them in shadow and the echo of his words.

"Of course," he says without looking back. "You wanted to see one up close, after all. Just watch its teeth."

Werewolves, fortunately, have a smell incredibly distinct from humans, so it doesn't take long for Tim to pick you out from the crowd. He's trailing after you as you wander down one of the many twisted streets of the city, keeping you in his sights as you move quickly with your head ducked low. 

You're nervous, he realizes quickly - because he can hear it, the frantic beating of your heart and the blood pumping through you. Tim finds himself running his tongue over one of his fangs and tipping his head back for just a moment, letting himself take his eyes off of you for just a second. But then he refocuses and you're suddenly…

You're gone, disappeared from in front of him. Tim freezes, staring at the spot where you'd been before glancing around. Night rose hours ago and, at this ungodly hour, the streets are deserted. It had just been the two of you out here and now, he thinks as he listens to the sudden silence - now it's just him. 

The silence stretches on. A street lamp somewhere flickers and a bat flies overhead.

The vicious, rumbling snarl that he hears from behind him isn't enough warning before the force of a wolf slamming him to the ground knocks the wind out of him. Even with his heightened reflexes, he wasn't fast enough to dodge before the two of you are tumbling across the empty road with snapping jaws and clawing hands. 

You roll, the both of you, through the yellow, pooled light of a street lamp and into one of the dripping, dirty alleys of the city, and that's where Tim finally rights himself. He smooths his hands through his tousled hair as he hisses at you, baring his fangs as the creature in front of him snarls and snaps dripping, yellowed teeth back at him. 

But you don't lunge again - not yet, at least. You circle him, keeping your pale, moonlit eyes focused on him as you growl and shake your fur out from the ordeal.

"You're the wolf," Tim blurts out, and you pause, faltering at the obviousness of it all. Tim crouches in front of you, cocking his head to the side with a curiosity that outweighs any fear that he should feel in this situation, and the action makes you stop completely and square yourself with him. 

"I've always wanted to really see one of you," he murmurs, staring at you with sharp, red eyes. "Can you do that whenever you want? I'd always thought it was just… on the full moon." Tim reaches for you then, like he's entranced by whatever morbid curiosity he's wrapped up in, and the sight of it all makes your hackles rise as you bare your teeth.

It's when you finally lunge at him, aiming for his outstretched hand, that Tim snaps back to the present moment and jerks back, up and onto the safety of a fire escape and away from you. He leans over the railing and watches you circle him from below for just a moment before he tips his head back and stares at the blotchy, darkened sky. 

"I think," he says slowly, beginning to tip his head back down, "that there's a lot more I'd like to learn about you before this is through." But by the time his eyes are trained on the ground again, you're… gone, disappeared into the blackened night again and leaving him alone. 

The next time that Tim comes after you, he feels like he's learned. Dick had chastised him properly when he'd told his brother about his first wolf encounter. He'd reprimanded Tim for not realizing that werewolves are just as supernatural as the vamps - they're fast and deadly and a lot harder to catch than humans.

So, this time around, Tim feels that he's learned. He's trailing you from the rooftops, sticking to vampire domain and staying in the skies as he watches you wander down below, weaving through streets and alleyways. 

But he finds himself… confused again. Because you're acting the way that you did on that first night - sharp and skittish and nervous, looking over your shoulder and keeping a hastened pace. 

But it can't be because of him, Tim thinks. So what…what are you so afraid of? 

Tim glances down to secure his footing for just a moment, but it's long enough for you to have disappeared a second time.

"Fuck," he spits, rubbing a hand over his forehead. "Oh my god, Dick's gonna kill me -"

"You're sloppy." A voice makes him whirl around and it's you standing there, your breath heaving with the effort of climbing up onto the roof. Your hands are clenched at your sides and your feet are braced like you're ready for a fight, but Tim just cocks his head to the side and stares at you.

"How'd you do that without me noticing?" he asks. You grit your teeth,

"You're not the first vamp I've hunted. Doubt you'll be the last," you snap, but Tim just hums and nods and turns fully to face you. 

"I'm not sloppy." He says it slowly, like he's unsure of the insult. You smile menacingly and something that feels a bit too much like fear crawls up Tim's spine. 

"The Waynes have ruled unchallenged for too long," you continue. "You don't know how to hunt anymore. You're sloppy, careless - can't even corner a lone werewolf properly."

"Ah," Tim responds, his voice hardening. "So it's true. You are here for a fight."

"No," you shake your head. "It's just an observation. I'm here," you say clearly, stepping towards him and quirking a brow when he takes a step back, "to tell you to stay away from me. Leave me alone."

"And leave you to come after us? Yea, no chance," Tim scoffs and you just glare at him.

"I don't have anything to do with your family and I don't want anything to do with your family," you snap. "I'm just trying to get away from all that."

"…What?"

"There's no war in Gotham City anymore. That's…that's what everyone says," you say quietly, your voice tapering off. "I just…I'm just trying to get away from it. I just wanted to find somewhere where no one would follow me."

When you dart off the roof, then, heading to the edge and kicking your legs over the side to drop down into the abyss below, Tim finds himself too bewildered to stop you. Your words turn over and over in his mind and he finds that he can't quite grasp why someone would come here willingly. He can't quite understand why someone would flee to a place as cursed as this. 

The game of cat and mouse that the two of you begin to play is a bit too much for Tim to want it to end, and he finds himself slinking off, away from the Cave and his prying family more and more often just to chase you down. 

He's shocked, startled into frozen silence when he finds you one night hidden in the corner of a deep, dark alleyway. You're plastered against the rough brick wall, unmoving and holding your breath, and when you lock eyes with Tim he sees how wild you look - like an animal caught in a snare. 

"What -" Tim begins, but you press a finger over your lips to shush him silently and you look at him desperately, your eyes wide and heart hammering against your ribcage. He slinks into the shadows next to you, keeping himself hidden as he watches you with furrowed brows and concern clouding his eyes. But he listens, nonetheless, straining to hear any sort of sound beyond the typical ruckus of the city.

He does hear something when he really listens, and it's enough to make Tim freeze, a cold sort of terror seeping into him. He can hear it, the bickering conversation of a group of men - and they're talking about you. They're asking where you went, following the trail of your footsteps and the sound of your howls. And Tim can hear it, the sound of a silver bullet clinking in the barrel of a gun. He can hear the grating clank of a wooden stake pressed into someone's palms.

Hunters.

There are werewolf hunters in Gotham… and they're here for you.

Tim stares at you, at the way your eyes squeeze shut in panic and you gasp in a shuddering breath. He stares and something burns in him. 

There have been no hunters in Gotham for centuries. The Waynes have been too powerful for too long for anyone to try to go up against them, especially humans with pitchforks and burning torches. 

But now… one lone werewolf is enough to bring all of that crashing down. One small person is enough to drag that fear back into their lives, even if it was against your own will. 

Tim grabs you by the collar of your shirt, tugging you toward a fire escape. When you resist, when you dig your heels in and shake your head, he hisses and bares his fangs. 

"Would you rather I hand you over to them?" he snaps. "It's me or them. Choose." There's a sort of betrayal that flashes through your eyes, then, but you knock his hand off of your collar and begin climbing up to the roof, anyway, trusting him to follow after you. 

The night sky, when you make it to the top, is as shrouded and dark as ever, the moon large and looming past the fog that bears down onto you. You stand with your back to Tim, your fists clenched as you take deep breaths and stare out toward the narrow, twisted city. 

"You've endangered us all," Tim spits, and your fists clench tighter.

"I'm sure you can handle it."

"No, that's not the point," he snaps as he reaches for you, grabbing you by the shoulder to make you spin and face him. "Why are they after you?"

"Because I'm a werewolf," you say dully. Tim grabs onto the collar of your shirt again and shakes you just a bit.

"Don't be stupid. You have to tell me what's going on or - or… just - please. Tell me," he trails off at the end, keeping you close to him with his fingers bunched into the fabric of your shirt. You put your hands on top of his, your warm palms meeting his ice-cold skin, and when Tim glances down he startles. 

He'd never seen you in just a t-shirt before, he realizes, and he sees it now - long, jagged scars on your arms. He knows what they're from - he recognizes them from what he's learned. They're scars from werewolf fights, deep gouges from claws and teeth marring your skin. 

"How," he falters. "What - you…"

"You're not supposed to leave your pack," you respond quietly, letting your hands rest atop his as he keeps his grip on your shirt tight. "It's… it's a crime, in a way. You're not supposed to run away."

"Why did you…" Tim looks up at you desperately, something akin to anguish flashing through his cold, red eyes, and a frown tugs on your lips as you try to understand why he's so upset by it all. "What…what happened? You have to tell me what happened."

"Well, I -" you shift on your feet. "I left, Tim. I - there's a war going on out there. My kind and - and yours - we're slaughtering each other. I… I left. I ran away from it. I ran away." Tim lets go of you, then, stumbling back and running his hands through his hair while you continue. "The… the rest of the world isn't like Gotham, Tim. Not all of us have the protection that you do."

"Why Gotham?" he asks abruptly, snapping his head back up to stare at you. "Why come here? You're not safe here."

"I'm not safe anywhere," you point out, but then you sigh and walk to the edge of the roof to sit with your feet swinging over the edge. The frigid winds of autumn are beginning to waft through the city, but the blood that pumps through you keeps you burning always and Tim, as he sits next to you slowly, finds himself unaffected by the cold against his frozen skin.

"There was a time," you continue to explain, "before the bats took over Gotham, when it was still lawless and… and wild. There was a time when my kind was still welcome here. It was… it was centuries, I know, but… I don't - I don't know. In a way, I guess, it's… it's just like coming home." You laugh then, a bit hysterically, at the trap of it all. Through generations and generations, the city has tugged you and pulled you harder and harder and harder until you couldn't help but stumble here. You couldn't help but try to begin to build a home here. 

"I…" Tim begins slowly, like the words are being tugged from him against his will. "I know what it's like to be… lonely. I - I know what it's like to feel like you don't belong somewhere."

"Is that so?" you sigh, tipping your head back as a patch of clouds part and the light of the moon shines down onto you. 

"I do," he insists rather earnestly. "I… I felt like that. When - when I was human." That makes you pause, makes you tip your head back down, abandoning the light of the moon to look at him, instead.

"You're not… upset about being bitten, then?"

"No, I -" Tim laughs. "I wanted it. I begged Bruce for it."

"Who would ever want such a thing?" you murmur, but there's no real accusation in your voice as you watch him. Tim just shrugs, clenching his hands in his lap.

"It's like I said, I… I was lonely. I didn't - I wasn't anybody or anything. I - I just… I just wanted to belong somewhere. That's all."

"Ah," is all you say in response, tipping your head back again to face the sky. But you're just a moment too late, this time, and the clouds have already swarmed to cover the moon again, leaving the two of you in heavy, damp darkness once more. 

Tim, meanwhile, stares down toward the ground, letting his eyes trace over the maze of streets that form the city that he's grown to love. It sort of burns when he remembers it, what it was like to be alone and lost and desperate for a soft place to land - desperate for a place to call home. 

"I don't get you," he says suddenly, his voice heavy as it cuts through the night.

"Hm?"

"You gave that up. You had that and you gave it up."

"Tim, I -" you sigh. "No… it wasn't like that. It wasn't that simple."

"Then explain it to me," Tim says quickly, as he turns to face you, propping a leg up on the ledge of the roof so that his knee presses against your hip and you can feel the coolness of his skin seeping into you through your clothes. "Make me understand."

"Why?"

"Because, I -" Tim trails off, staring at you like he's just realized the truth, himself. "Because, I… I want to understand you. I want to know you."

"I… did have those things," you sigh, reeling from Tim's confession and bulldozing on so as to not think about it. "I had a pack and a family and a… a purpose, I suppose. And I did - I gave that up. But it's not…it's not our war, Tim. It's not mine."

"Of course it is," he says immediately, but you sigh and place a hand on his knee, your thumb brushing against his inner thigh.

"No, listen. We are puppets, Tim, fighting a war that doesn't belong to us. Do you know how it started? Do you know why we're sworn against each other?"

"Well…" Tim says slowly. "No, but… I - I just don't remember. But I'm sure it's… I'm sure…"

"You don't even know why you're fighting anymore, do you?" you say gently, and Tim feels a bit like all of the air has been punched out of him. "What do you really believe in? What do you really want to do with those teeth of yours?"

"Well, I don't," Tim begins, and the panic that he feels makes a defensive sort of venom drip from his fangs and pool in his mouth. "I don't want to live like you, shivering alone in an alleyway in a city that you don't belong in while you're - you're hunted like an animal."

"I am an animal, Tim," you smile gently, and a guilt begins to eat at him while his head spins. "We both are."

But he finds that he's not listening to you very well now, too busy spiralling and reeling and feeling the world tip around him as your words ring through his mind over and over and over. 

Because you're right, he thinks. You're right because he's sitting here on a rooftop with you, his sworn enemy, and you're warm and kind and looking at him like you care about him. Your shoulder's brushing against his and the warmth of your palm is seeping into his thigh and all that he can think about is how lovely you look under the pale light of the moon.

"Maybe you have a point, though," you laugh, and it's a humourless, hollow sort of thing. "What's the point, really, if… if you're alone?" He wants to scream at you when you say that, wants to grab you by the collar and shake you and say that he gets it now, just a little bit. Because what's the point, really, of living, if you're living someone else's life?

But you're just sighing and closing your eyes and tipping your head back again and Tim finds that he can't speak. He finds that the words get caught in his throat on the way up. 

"Curled up in a corner of the world and left with nothing other than survival," you murmur, your eyes still firmly shut. "God, what a life. What a… a lie. What a way to pretend."

"You're not pretending," Tim blurts out, and his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist and hold onto you, anchoring your palm to his thigh. "You're not because - because this is living, right? This is - you're doing it, aren't… aren't you? Isn't it - isn't this what it means to be alive?"

"Alive?" you say quietly, having opened your eyes to stare at him and watch his outburst unfold. "Do you… remember what it was like to be alive?" 

Tim lets go of you like you've burned him when you say that. He winces, curling into himself as he feels like he's collapsing under the weight of it all. He can feel his own cold, pale skin and the press of his fangs poking against his bottom lip. He can hear the sound of your heart beating, the rush of your blood through your veins. He can… he can remember - almost, what it was like to have his own beating heart.

"I'm… sorry," you say quietly, looking away from him and making an effort to tug your hand away. "I shouldn't have… I don't mean it like that. I'm sorry." Tim watches as your hand leaves his thigh, as the warmth of your palm melts away and the cold sets in. Looking out toward the endless, looming city, Tim wonders if it was ever really worth it - being alive here.

"Well, maybe…" he begins slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Maybe neither of us are really living. Maybe we - I don't know, maybe you always want what you don't have… or - or something."

"I guess," you laugh, and it's a hollow, lifeless sort of thing. "I guess I… I don't know, it's…" You pause, chewing on your lips as you weigh your words. Tim watches, letting his eyes flick over your lips.

"Lonely?" he offers quietly. You turn to look at him again, shifting so that your sides press together a bit more.

"I'm… I'm not lonely right now," you say quietly, your voice so soft that he's sure he would've missed it in another life where he hadn't turned into this thing. "Are… are you? Lonely, I mean. Right now?" Tim looks at you carefully, weighing your words in his soul as he listens to the unsteady beat of your heart and feels the warmth rolling off of you in waves and splashing onto him.

"…No," he admits, and it feels like a confession of sin, like an unholy action… to find love in an enemy and peace in the middle of a war. "No, I… I'm not - I don't feel lonely right now."

"It doesn't really make sense, does it?" you muse quietly, and as you lean back onto your palms, he finds himself missing your warmth desperately. When he chases after it, following your movement with his own and leaning over you, you let him, a lazy sort of grin slipping across your face. 

"What doesn't?" he murmurs in response, although the more he leans into you, the more his mind hazes over and he finds it difficult to listen to reason.

"This," you offer. "This… feud. This war. Are we not just… the same? Are we not creatures of the night, both of us?"

"Creatures, sure," Tim says easily in response as he flashes his fangs at you. You just roll your eyes in response and he listens for the scared uptick of your heartbeat that just… never comes. It's a steady, even beat and he feels it drawing him in and in and in until he's leaning so close to you that your noses are almost touching.

"There are real enemies down there," you murmur, but your voice has grown sombre and your heartbeat has jumped in a way that makes him snarl, all fangs and flashing eyes. You reach to tangle a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and press your forehead against his. "Those hunters… they never stop, you know. They never slow, they never give up. They'll circle endlessly until they find me."

"I won't let them get to you," Tim says in a rush, his words jumbling together in his haste to promise himself to you. You smile ruefully, like you can't quite believe it and you're too tired to try.

"Why?" you challenge.

"Because you're mine."

"Your… enemy? Right…? Right, Tim?" 

"Yes," Tim says haltingly, leaning closer to you. Your lips brush against his and a shiver wracks through him.

"I don't think so," you whisper. "I don't think there's any need for us to fight each other. I don't think there's any need for us to fight this…"

That's all it takes, really, to have him lunging for you. Tim's lips are ice cold against yours and the grip that he has on your hips is firm, anchoring you to him. It's only when you reach to tangle both of your hands into his hair that he moves, cushioning the back of your head with his hand as you fall backwards until your back is pressed against the rooftop and he's pressed against you.

"Are you… sure?" he asks tentatively, breaking the kiss to skim his lips down the column of your throat and let his fangs scrape against your skin. "Are you sure you want this? You  - you want me?"

"Well, who else?" you quip. "Would you rather I let someone else do this to me?" That's enough to get another snarl from him before his lips are back on yours, taking and taking and taking.

"My love," Tim's voice wakes you slowly, his hand shaking your shoulder gently as you blink your eyes open.

"Hm?"

"The sun will be up soon… I have to go," he says, a bit sullenly. You huff and move to sit, rolling your shoulders out from the hard rooftop as he watches you. There are loving bruises from his lips and fangs littering your neck and collarbones and Tim smiles when he sees them, reaching forward to brush a thumb over some of them and delighting in your shiver.

"You should get out of here," you murmur, your voice thick with sleep still as you lean into his touch.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"You…" Tim pauses, frowning at you as he glances around the rooftop. "Those hunters are still out there. You need to be careful. You need - you need to be protected."

"I can protect myself, Timmy," you assure him gently, standing and stretching out your back and shoulders. "I've been doing it for a long time."

"But you don't -" Tim shoots to his feet to look you in the eye while he speaks. "You don't have to - not anymore. I'll… I want to - I just want to look out for you."

"Look out for yourself first," you quip gently, eyeing the light just beginning to crest over the horizon. "You need to get inside. And besides…"

"What?" Tim cocks his head to the side. You shoot him a sympathetic look.

"I'm not sure it's me you should be worried about. What do you think he'll do? Bruce, I mean. What - do you think he'll be happy about this? About you spending the night with something like me?"

"He…" Tim falters. "He doesn't know. Of course, he doesn't know. I wouldn't - I wouldn't do that to you."

"I…" you sigh, stepping forward to press a kiss to the corner of Tim's frown. "I didn't mean it like that. I just need - I want you to be careful. You'll get yourself into trouble if he finds out."

"He won't," Tim assures confidently. "He… he won't."

Tim thinks, as the sun sets once again and he slinks out of the Cave, that he's probably a coward. He considers it as he makes his way out into the crisp, cool air of the night and chases after you - he thinks back to all of the lies that he's begun to tell Bruce.

Your words ring through his head over and over, claims that you have to stand on your own two feet and carve your own soul swarming around him as he thinks of how small he's gotten under the shadow of someone else's war.

He thinks that he has to talk to you about it, has to fall to his knees and ask for guidance, ask for a direction to throw himself into. He thinks -

He smells blood. He sees blood, splattered across the pale concrete of the sidewalk and dripping from a nearby street lamp. He smells it, sweet and thick and heady and… it's yours. He knows it, can taste it in the air. It's your blood… and there's lots of it. 

It's a bit of a mad scramble, then, to chase after you. Tim’s senses, usually sharpened to perfection and designed to hunt, become fuzzy as waves of nauseating panic roll over him. He stumbles a bit, tumbling into an alleyway as he follows the scent and the sight of your blood smeared over the cracked, winding roads of this cursed, darkened city. He stumbles and he lurches and then… and then he comes face to face with you.

A great wolf, snarling and snapping and curled into the corner of a shady alleyway, pressed against the rough, brick wall as a silver bullet sits embedded in your shoulder. Tim sort of… freezes at the sight, at the blood oozing from the open wound and the way the smell of it hits the air, his tongue pricking and his fangs pressing against his lip. 

"My -" he lurches toward you. "My love, I - holy shit." He falls to his knees before you, the jaws of a wolf snarling and exposed above his head as he stares at the bullet and the silver poison that seeps into you from it. He can hear it, the scattered, frantic beat of your heart - he can hear the wheezing of your lungs and the slowing of the blood pumping through you.

You're dying, and all he can do is fall to his knees in front of you like a prayer. All he can do is curl into himself and grip onto his hair like he's going mad.

"Aw, Timmy," your voice is quiet and shaky and Tim's head snaps up to look at you, now curled on the hard, cold ground in your human form, a pool of your own blood seeping into you. "You look awful."

"Speak for yourself," he snaps weakly, but he reaches for you all the same, dragging your trembling form into his arms as you sway and your eyes blink sluggishly. You wonder, somewhere distant and unimportant, if you're here because you really trust him enough to save you, or if you just… have no choice. 

You wonder it as you see him pull his hand away from your shoulder to stare at the blood on it, at your blood, and when his pupils dilate and his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, you think that this must be a cruel, cruel way to die. Not by the hand of a hunter, but by the hand of your partner. Not by the hand of hate, but… but by the hand of love.

"I'm going to save you," Tim says, though, and the force that rings through you as his words knock the little bit of air that you have left from your chest. He grips your face with a bloody hand, forcing you to look at him and shaking you slightly when you try to let your eyes flutter closed. "I'm going to save you."

"I'm not sure you can, Timmy," you murmur, your voice heavy.

"Hey, no," he taps against your cheek to keep you awake. "You need to stay with me. You need to tell me - I need to know. Who did this? Who did this to you?"

"This isn't really the moment for vengeance, don't you think?" you offer in lieu of an answer. Tim groans and hunches over you, the smell and the sight and the near taste of your blood making his mind spin and his body sway with dizziness. 

He gets a bit too close, he realizes, when his fangs are suddenly scraping against the exposed skin of your throat. It's intoxicating, he finds, the feel of it all. But -

But then he feels it, the weakening flutter of your pulse under his tongue, and it's enough to make his head spin for an entirely different reason. 

"I'm going to save you," Tim repeats, and this time he's pulling you further into his arms as he stands, holding you securely against him. "I … I can't do this on my own, but - I'm… I know someone who can. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, right? I - I promised you, didn't I?"

"Sure," you say sleepily, your words a bit jumbled together as you cling to him. "But who really expects it, hm? A creature like you or me to keep a promise? Who really believes there's a life for things like us?"

"I do," he responds quickly, holding you closer. There's an earnest tilt to his voice that you've never heard before and you wonder, somewhere far, far away, if it's the first time that he's heard that from his own voice, as well. "I - I believe it," he continues. "I believe in a life for my- for you. I… I do. I believe in a life for myself."

"Well, isn't that nice," you murmur, and you mean it as much as you can right now. "I hope you get that, Timmy. I… I really do."

"We'll get it," he pleads with you, and there's a pain in him that feels new to you both. There's a love and a loss that feels so human, so alive that it's sort of… foreign. It's almost out of place coming from a dead thing like him. 

It's sound that first greets you when the beginnings of consciousness begin to stir inside you. It's the sound of water dripping from stalactites, of a waterfall crashing somewhere and a rushing river flowing against rocks. It's the sound of bats chirping and squeaking as a thousand wings flutter and flap somewhere high up. It's the endless echo of it all spinning and spinning and spinning and -

And it's Tim, sitting next to you and picking at his nails nervously.

You can smell him, of course, with that animal nose of yours. Just like you can smell… the cave that you're in, wet and damp and dark, reeking of vampire. Vampires beyond just your nervous, stressed-out lover.

The realization makes you shoot fully awake as you rip your eyes open, struggling to sit up right away and wincing at the searing pain that rips through your shoulder. Tim makes a panicked, strangled sort of noise and reaches for you, shushing you gently and trying to coax you back into a relaxed, lying position.

"Tim," you say earnestly, and there's a panic in you - a fear in you that feels as if it's about to crawl up from your throat. "Tim, I'm -"

"It's ok," he says soothingly, smoothing a hand over your hair as he pulls you into his chest, trying desperately to get you to relax as agony blooms from your bullet wound. "Shh, shh, it's alright. You're safe, I promise."

"I'm in a vampire cave, Timmy, I can't - I'm - it's not -"

"It's ok," he says again, firmly this time as he clamps you against his chest, forcing you to stop your struggling and squirming. If you weren't so hurt, if your head wasn't spinning and your eyes weren't blurring, you'd be able to fight back. Especially now, when the full moon hangs overhead, miles above this endless, blackened, twisting cave that you find yourself lost in. 

"Timmy," you all but whine, tired and trembling and curling into him as he holds you, shushing you and smoothing a hand over your hair and pressing kisses to the crown of your head.

"It's ok," he repeats. "It's alright. You're… you're safe here, I promise. Nothing's going to hurt you in here."

"You can't know that," you say quietly, pushing against him just a bit. He sighs and readjusts himself so that he can look down to you.

"I  - I said I would save you, didn't I? I said I'd bring you to someone who could save you," Tim says earnestly, tightening his grip on you. You freeze at his words, staring up at him with wide eyes as the pieces of your ill-fated night come back to you in burning, painful flashes.

"Who… Tim. Tim, who - what happened? Who…"

"It was…" Tim shifts, looking away from you pointedly as he twists his fingers with yours nervously. "Bruce. It was Bruce."

"It was… Tim -" You laugh a bit hysterically, the sound echoing around the endless, looming cave. "Tim - no, it's… No. he didn't."

"He did," Tim insists. "He did. He… I don't know. I don't know why."

"Is he… is he here?" You shrink a bit as you say it, pressing against Tim's chest as he frowns and wraps his arms around you a bit tighter.

"No," he assures, shushing you again gently. "He's out - they all are."

"For what?"

"Well, see, there's a bit of a pest problem in Gotham," Tim drawls, a hint of mirth in his voice that makes you narrow your eyes. "Werewolf hunters. Nasty things, I'm sure you know. The rest of the family is just… doing a bit of clean up."

"You're -" You squirm out of Tim's grip just enough to sit up and he takes the opportunity to drag you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as you smooth a hand over the hair on the nape of his neck. "Your family is out… to go after werewolf hunters?"

"Yes," Tim says plainly. You give him a withering sort of look. 

"Bruce Wayne, King of the Vampires, saved the life of a werewolf and now he's out, running around under the full moon and tearing apart hunters?" you say dryly.

"Yes," Tim repeats. "It's his city, after all. It's his job."

"It's not," you say quickly, frowning as you tilt your head back to look at Tim, at his red eyes and pale, cold skin. "This is… this is something else. Timmy, you've - you've got to tell me what happened."

"Well - it's," Tim shifts where he sits, looking away a bit bashfully in a way that makes you follow his gaze with your own and narrow your eyes suspiciously. "I don't think he's ever seen me like that before," he continues quietly, a trembling sort of quality making his voice waver. "I've never… I've never begged him for something like that. I don't - I don't think I've ever cared enough about anything to beg like that. It - I don't know, I think maybe it scared him."

"It didn't scare you?" you say gently. The smile that Tim gives you is pained and frail.

"It terrified me so much that I swear to god my heart started to beat again for the first time," he whispers, curling against you so that he can press his face to your neck and feel your pulse against his tongue. 

"Oh, my love," you offer gently, curling your fingers in his hair as you pull him closer. He laughs a bit wetly and pulls away from you just enough to look down at you again, smoothing his hands over your hips to pull you closer on his lap.

"But, you know, I…" Tim pauses as he cocks his head to the side and you watch as the thoughts roll through his mind. "I think, maybe, he… I don't know - maybe Bruce wanted me to, just a bit."

"What… what do you mean?" you ask, cautiously.

"Well, I - I don't think I'm a very good liar. I don't think there's much that really happens in this city that Bruce doesn't know about." Tim shrugs. You straighten as you stare at him.

"So you're saying he - what, he knew? The whole time?"

"I don't - I don't really know. I'll probably never know for sure. Bruce doesn't -" He cuts himself off with an echoing sort of laugh. "He doesn't really share. But - I don't know… I feel like I saw something in him when I showed up with you. I feel like he was almost… proud." Tim shifts in his seat and looks out to the endless darkness of the cave. "I feel like he was proud of me, maybe, for going out and starting to lie. For… I - I don't know, maybe he was proud when I went out and started to become something beyond a shadow of this place."

"Tim, I'm -" you start, your heart flipping in your chest at his confession, at the earnest waver in his voice. 

"It's lucky, you know," he barrels on, like he can't stop all of it now that it's started, like he's split open his chest and cracked open his ribs and can't keep his unbeating heart contained anymore. "Bruce said that it's lucky, I mean. Because it's the full moon. It's - he said that if it was a different time in the cycle, if you hadn't been as strong, you wouldn't have…" He trails off, then, holding you tighter to his chest as he makes a choked, painful sort of sound somewhere in the back of his throat.

"But, I… I didn't" you offer gently, letting him hold you against him as tightly as he needs. "I didn't leave you. I wouldn't - I won't." Tim laughs a bit frantically, burying his face into your neck.

"What an odd thing," he murmurs, his voice muffled, "to belong in such a place."

"Yes," you agree, "but what a place to belong. What a place to call home."

"I don't think you should be here," you quip without looking back, and you hear a sigh in response before Tim breaks out into a jog to catch up to you where you're strolling down one of the endless, darkened sidewalks of Gotham. "It's too late - early. You don't have much time until the sun comes up."

"Was I close this time?" he asks rather sullenly. You pretend to think about it for a moment.

"I only caught you, hm… three blocks ago? Not bad," you shrug. He groans and reaches to tug you to him, holding you against his chest so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate skin there with his fangs.

"I don't think you should be out right now," he murmurs gently and you sigh, patting him on the head.

"The new moon happens every month, Timmy," you placate softly. "I'll be ok."

"You're not at your strongest right now," he says in defence and you can't help but shrink a bit under his piercing, red gaze when he pulls his head back up to stare down at you. You don't look well, you know, the effects of being so far from the full moon wearing on you as the dark circles under your eyes grow and your hands tremble.

"It's only temporary," you offer soothingly, pulling him against you to let him wrap an arm around your shoulder as you continue walking down the cracked sidewalk. "It will pass. It always does." And it's true, you think as you step one foot in front of the other. It will pass, it will pass, it will pass. It always does. 

And it's made easier, of course, by the sturdy weight by your side and the arm that holds you so steady. It's made easier, somehow, by the fluttering of a bat's wings overhead and the looming, watchful gaze of a Vampire King. 

"Temporary," Tim huffs, grumbling under his breath. You reach for his hand so that you can tangle your warm fingers with his cold ones and press kisses to his knuckles.

"But you're here, right? Hm? What could possibly happen to me?" you ask teasingly.

"Nothing," Tim answers seriously, and you smile gently as you squeeze his fingers with your own. "Nothing. I'm here - always."

"Well, isn't that nice," you say, and you mean it. How nice, you think, to have something constant- something permanent, even as the world shifts and changes around you. How safe to have something so sturdy to fall back on. 

"I don't mind it, really," you continue as you tip your head back and look up at the empty, blackened sky. "It's just a part of it, you know. It comes… and it goes."

"Like… like all things, I suppose," Tim admits a bit stiffly. You offer him a loving smile.

"Like most things," you correct. "Not… not you. Not us."

"Never us," he responds quickly, his arm around you tightening as a cold breeze blows through and you shiver slightly. "Never us. I - I… I love you. And that's - I mean… that's as constant as anything can be."

And how odd, you think as you stop abruptly so that you can pull him in by his collar and kiss him, to find safety in the arms of a vampire. How strange to have the heart of your enemy pressed against yours and to feel it come back to life just so that it can beat in time with yours. 

How right it all feels… despite, despite, despite.

Because it's one thing, you suppose, to trust him when you're at your strongest. But it's another thing entirely, you think, to trust him at your weakest, to place your glittering heart into his undead hands and watch him hold it with tender care. 

How interesting, you think, to build a home in this of all things. But it is home, you consider as he presses his cold lips against yours and holds you ever so gently against a darkened alley wall. And the home that you build is found where you least expect it sometimes.

Home is the open blue sky and the full moon hanging in it. Home is deciding where you belong and carving a space for yourself into the night. Home is the crisp, cold air of a cursed, tangled city that never sleeps and never really dies.

[to-rise-above-monsters]

how i interpreted the bertholdt thing was that armin’s understanding of annie deepened bc of bertholdt’s memories, not that it necessarily controlled his feelings (like how eren implied)

i reallyyy like aruani as a concept. they mean so much to me. ‘girl who doesn’t care for life’ ‘boy who cares so much’ (i also just love them as characters so much)

i think the downside for them was how long ago s1 was.

warning rant underneath (im embarrassed im so sorry)

i’d been such a long time fan but dropped off when there was a hiatus of the anime and decided ill just binge the manga when it’s done. the only real reason annie was on my mind was bc of how dedicated i was to the rba dynamic and how much i loved annie (and fanon annie) as a character. but she truly wasn’t a character for nearly half of the series.

i even knew someone who saw her in the crystal and asked me “who’s that?”

i think she suffered from fandom slightly but now it being canon ig they were right. it was a little annoying for fandom (a small part of it) deciding that every character needed to be paired off with each other and that annie must be in love with one of the boys she tolerates. maybe that was a small reason i found the canonicity so out of nowhere?

bc i love fanon ships for sillies but making a female character HAVE to hinge on a relationship with a man rubbed me the wrong way. but that’s not what aruani is in canon and im so thankful for that. but i still wish there was more

it sucks because there was really no way of developing her or their relationship while she was in the crystal and idek how someone could properly execute it but it was very jarring for her to come out of an absence that was longer than the timeskip for the readers. we hadn’t even seen her for i think six years? and then immediately she is fully canon with a character that we had followed for all the time she’d been missing.

idk i wish they had more. i wish it wasn’t hints. i wish it wasn’t the assumption that they must be romantic because of this, this and this.

their stuff in season 1 was so nice. i remember being so intrigued. but that’s all it kinda was? we never had a reason. why did she spare him? why did she seem to care about him in particular? why did she want to ‘be a good person’ for him? so interesting.

but we… never get an answer? is it because he called her nice? she clearly had empathy for him before that. but that wasn’t something ever shown. even the compilation of moments always seems to start in the middle of a blossoming relationship. there was never a moment that solidified their mutual respect and interest for each other. it’s just something that just… happened? off screen?

rereading all these years later, i can catch these things and be like ohhhh yeah ig that was them liking each other. but when it was happening in real time, it was the most jarring and insane jump. i was like woah woah buddy what is going on.

sudden blushing and confession was so crazy to me. it felt so sudden. and so did other ships. it felt like “ofc they were in love the whole time they’re a woman and a man who have some interest in each other”

honestly, something that could have been implemented maybe was that armin was genuinely talking to her not because he was in love with her but he did genuinely ‘want to see her’. maybe a scene of him reflecting on maybe why he wanted to talk to her so badly (he kinda does but i want it to circle back to his regrets and maybe acknowledging all the times she spared him or cared about him to a certain capacity). maybe a flashback of why annie respected armin so much. or when their relationship started.

and maybe showing him visiting her throughout? but from a lore perspective, i feel like that still wouldn’t work. sigh im so sorry. i have so many feelings and I don’t think I’ve ever actually written it out before 💀

idk im so sorry im rambling SO BAD. i think snk deserved to have a lot more breathing room and filler. letting my children just breathe and talk for a second. (i think that’s why junior high was so good and so well received)

i love this manga so much and i know some people hate the ending but i personally really love this series and it’s overall message and think it’s so well written. and i love anyone who is passionate about anything and loves things. i just like to write improvements or brainstorm headcanon/how i would tweak things🙏

anyways

isayama put his whole pussy into making yumihisu so explicitly romantic and intimate and loving throughout their entire relationship and decided he was done for the day<3

why did isayama put his whole pussy into yumihisu after saying he can’t write romance. and then fumble when it came to the straights.

[thedyingwriter]

somethings that i needed to get out regarding today's episode:

9-1-1 live airs in the US around 7 am Friday in my country and i get to watch it at 10:30 am on disney hotstar.

I couldn't wait so i was awake all night and was literally on twt since 6:30 am to get some clips.

that's where i find out that bucktommy break up.

i have been devastated all day. i have cried multiple times and i have literally lost count atp. it hurts like an actual breakup and i have absolutely no one irl to share this grief with.

the Abby being the ex-fiance wasn't even a major issue. i have been seen it done so well in so many fics.

Josh's speech was so beautiful and important but then to pull a breakup like that makes no fucking sense.

after what we saw in 8x5 breaking them made absolutely zero sense.

i was too overwhelmed so i tried to sleep and actually watched the entire episode around 11 am. I wanted to keep and open mind and analyse the episode.

twt is literally so toxic rn. I'm not even opening it.

after watching the entire episode i was even more confused as the breakup made zero sense.

we have had 8 seasons of character growth for buck, if they end up making him go back to casual relationships it just feels a complete wastage of 8 seasons of growth.

and from what we've seen in the past episodes the breakup was completely uncharacteristic to both buck and tommy.

it made no sense. why would tommy put so much effort if he knew it wouldn't last.

him constantly showing up for evan and talking about family just made zero sense for him to break up like that.

also it kinda felt weird to bring moving in together before saying i love yous.

and the way he said "the parking spot was too good to be true". this breakup doesn't feel good at all. he was obviously in pain and so was buck. this isn't doing any of them any good.

utter bullshit.

plus the "I'll see you around buck" broke me. like why the fuck would you do that to me and to buck.

it felt like someone put fucking alcohol all over a stab wound and then rubbed salt all over it.

LOW BLOW.

now coming to the post ep interviews which btw made it worse.

i was still under the impression that the way the breakup happened there was still hope for reconciliation because remember even tarlos went through breakups.

but then lou confirmed he might not be back and that this is it. specially that buck line. UGH.

and that #letbuckfuck interview with oliver really triggered me. I'm a bisexual woman and the reason i really loved buck's discovery of his sexuality was bcs Oliver was very determined in Givin a good bi rep.

but this doesn't feel that way. he could have said that he wants to see buck explore his sexuality more with both men and woman but the whole "girl, girl, guy. guy, girl, guy" montage was a very disturbing image.

it feels very stereotypical and biphobic.

it just hurts me so much. idk why i expected so much from a network tv show who has been queerbating for years.

i am gonna be watching this season just to see how they salvage buck's relationship and sexuality. it feels incomplete.

but if it goes in the buck 1.0 direction that's it for me.

i watch 911 as an escape from reality and if it goes so bad i am not continuing with the show.

it has already tested my limits and mental health enough.

also i need to point out that there are a lot of people who enjoy watching sports a lot more than they enjoy playing it. buck is a watcher. he would have loved seeing the Lakers match. just bcs he doesn't like to play doesn't mean he hates basketball.

a little extra side notes-

really excited for another buckley han kid. hope they don't ruin it. want to see how they deal with ppd this time.

also happy for eddie and really hoping he gets chris back soon.

ya'll need to understand how platonic friendship buddie is also so important rn then them getting together bcs eddie is def not ready to date.

if he starts dating he'll feel super guilty for putting his desire above chris all over again.

ALSO FOR PEOPLE IN THE BACK- EDMUNDO DIAZ IS CANON STRAIGHT.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

OH MY GYATTTT YOU WROTE "SECRETS IN LOVE" AND IT WAS SO GOOD WTH? CAN YOU PLSPLSPLS DO THE SAME THING WITH DAVE MUSTAINE PLS IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING ILL GIVE YOU MY WHOLE RESPECT AND LOVE PLS ILYSM

A/n: Ik Dave hates cats but he looks like a cat so fuck you idk

Warnings: smut, hybrid au, stomach bulge, breeding kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You always wanted a pet but your dad was allergic to pretty much everything, luckily that didn't seem to get passed down to you so when you found a stray cat on your walk home from work you happily brought it into your home.

The cat was big, much bigger than a normal house cat. You brushed it off as the cat being a main coon or something. It had long ginger fur that was matted and not well groomed so you ran it a bath when you got home.

The cat, who you quickly found out was a boy, was very needy for your touch, purring when you pet him and reaching for you when you pulled away.

You took him to the vet the next morning, went out and got all the necessities, you'd wasted your whole childhood without pets and you had a lot of making up to do, this was your chance.

You never gave him a name, sticking to nicknames and affectionate terms -dipshit, handsome, monsieur, dumbass.

He cuddled up in bed with you while you slept, walked around the kitchen with you when you cooked, hell, he was so obedient you got him a leash and collar and started taking him on walks.

He was a smart cat, so smart you often swore he was talking to you, but that was crazy... right?

You'd had him for almost a year, you didn't know how old he was exactly or when he was born but you still wanted to celebrate, if not his birthday, the day you got him. You went a little overboard but he was special to you, your first pet and a very important character in your life.

It didn't worry you too much to not know how old he was until recently when he started to pick up the wretched scent. At first you thought he'd just played in something he shouldn't have but the smell carried through multiple baths and only seemed to get worse as days passed.

You took him to the vet but they said he was fine, you didn't believe it but you didn't have anything else to go off of, only able to trust the vets word. You didn't know what was happening but your mind kept pushing the worst so you were going to celebrate his new birthday goddammit.

The cat had been spending almost everyday in your room, on your bed. He seemed happy there and angry everywhere else, but he also seemed angry whenever you weren't there or when you were leaving, he'd always try to keep you to stay. It was the first time he'd ever hissed at you.

You came home with a small brown paper bag of treats for him, little cookies with yogurt frosting, or something you weren't really paying attention but they were from the pet store down the street so you trusted them.

You walked in and the smell hit you like a train. It was worse than ever and it only got stronger as you neared the bedroom. Something was definitely wrong.

"Hey, where's my handsome boy-" You were stopped dead in your tracks when you opened the door to your bedroom only to find not a cat but a man splayed out in your bed. You dropped the baggy and stared at him.

He was tall and bare, shoulders littered with freckles and a long fiery main of hair reaching past his shoulders. There was a prominent scar on his side, just under his ribs, with the fluffy tail and matching ears there was no doubt who it was.

"My handsome boy..." You muttered, taking a few hesitant steps closer. He was panting, body heaving with every breath. The scent shifted in the air, fogging your mind and suddenly it didn't smell so rancid.

"Dave..." He grunted. "M'Dave." He weakly reached for you and you took his hand, feeling the callouses on the pads of his fingers, his little toe beans.

"What-what happened to you..?" You asked, pulling your hand away. This had to be some twisted dream, this wasn't your cat, this wasn't who you cuddled with every night. This was Dave, not your cat.

He laughed weakly, smiling tiredly up at you. "What answer are you hoping for?"

You shrugged, you had a few questions and wanted answers to all of them but that would take some time and he looked... well, in a sense godly, but he looked like he was in pain. "Are you... You're dying, aren't you..?" You asked solemnly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Dave stared at you blankly for a moment before he slowly started to laugh. "No, I'm not dying, the vet told you so... by the way, I'm never going there again." He said, sitting up and not bothering to cover himself, you couldn't stop your gaze from wandering to the ginger tufts leading down to his hard cock, red and pulsing painfully. It was a strange sight but you could feel a heat pooling in your gut.

He caught where you were looking and leaned closer to you, placing a finger under your chin and tilting your head to look up at him. His plush lips met yours in a sweet kiss, it was short because he pulled away to look at you. "I'm not dying, it's just a rut."

"A rut?" You repeated curiously, eyes flickering over his face, taking in his strong features -cut jaw, sharp nose, full lips, and those eyes... you could die happy staring into them. This wasn't your cat, definitely not.

"Yeah, like a heat." He said simply, shifted closer to you. "I need a mate, someone to make mine, someone to have my kits." He placed another kiss onto your lips, this lasting longer, more desire in it. "I need you, master."

"Y/n." You said quickly. "Call me Y/n."

He smiled at you, hand falling from your chin to your side and giving it a gentle squeeze. "How about I just call you mine." He said, tone darker than you'd heard from him so far.

He was much stronger than you'd taken him for, pulling you tight to him and getting you on your back under him. He didn't bother with your clothes, instead just ripping them off of you and discarding the scraps over the sides of the bed.

A moment ago he seemed weak and aching, now he was pinning you down to the mattress effortlessly, lips moving against yours like a perfect ocean, strong and vivid motions.

He gripped your thighs so tight they were sure to bruise, but he needed you, every inch he could get. He pushed your legs up, knees to your chest, and slid into you easily with how wet you were, so needy for him already.

This was a new passion you'd never felt before. He wasn't your first, but no one was like him, big and strong sure, but this was different, you just didn't know why.

That smell filled your nostrils again, it worked like a drug, making you melt. Dave groaned above you, breath catching in his throat. "Mph- Fuck." He grunted, leaning down and flattening your body like a folding chair with his. His hips moved fast, thrusting into you at a harsh pace and making your stomach bulge with his size every time.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. A deep rumbling filtered through your ears, sending vibrations through your body. "So good, so good for me, sweetheart, just keep making those sounds." Your moans echoed out through the room as your body bounced up and down the bed, making the bedframe creak but you couldn't be bothered to worry about it breaking.

You felt Dave's hot breath fanning over your neck, right where it connected to your shoulder. "Smell so good..." He groaned, licking over the skin there. Your hands clawed at his back, body aching for more than he was giving you, somehow, you needed more.

You were so close, body twitching under Dave. He bit down on you, sharp canines breaking your skin with ease. It was an animalistic need he felt and it only made his movements more aggressive, make your moans higher and needier.

Soon your body was wracked with pleasure, your hands fell from their spot on Dave's back, instead moving to hold his arms that were planted right beside your head. He didn't stop and he didn't let go of your flesh, occasionally licking the wound but his scratchy tongue wasn't the pleasant touch he thought it was.

A heat or rut could last days or even weeks and Dave was no exception. He had a long start to it, hence the stench that just got worse over time, but it was only lasting three days, thankfully, your body couldn't take much more than that.

There were quick breaks, Dave would get up to get water and it gave you a minute to yourself. Your body ached, pulsing from pleasure, hole fluttering around nothing, the absence of Dave hurt more. Tears stained your cheeks and the sheets under you along with other fluids. Your thighs were bruised and that bite Dave had left on your neck... you didn't know what it was but it was warm and smelled like him.

Most notably, you felt fluffy, your brain was fuzzy but you were fluffy... You brushed it aside when Dave would return, offering you a few sips of water while he got resituated inside you.

Dave had crashed not long after you, the smell, while it didn't stink anymore, was no longer present. Other smells were very much there but not the Dave's rut. You woke up to be greeted with darkness and sugar coated pain.

All you needed was to make it to the bathroom, how long you'd last away from Dave you didn't know and didn't plan on finding out but that bathroom was good enough.

You were walking funny and the lights stung your eyes when they hit them. Looking in the mirror your stomach was bloated with Dave, always making a point to cum inside you and you lost count after three -for him, by that point you were well past... something.

Still, the most notable change wasn't your full gut or your red face, not even the mark spread over your neck and shoulder, instead it was the fluffy bunny ears that had propped themselves up on your head and the tail bundled up neatly on your lower back.

“Wow…” Dave’s voice came from the door, breathless and full of love. He moved behind you, wrapping his arms around you to hold your swollen stomach. “Mine, all mine.” He mumbled, pressing a kiss to your neck right where he’d marked you. “My sweet little bunny.”

When the hell did this happen? And why did it feel so right…

[mermmarie]

There's also a now-deleted post that inspired me to make my own small series on, erm, how the bay boys would hold your hand in bed(as all couples do!!!! Sfw handholding) and idk if it sounds fucking cringe but instead of some grey yn hands I am making them poc bc of you(I remember ur OCs? It's so long ago I forgor- and how you've mentioned not enough poc stuff in tmnt. I mean I likely would've done it regardless, I have like 3 white OCs out of 40, but wanted you to know it's with you in mind)

Bonnie is my only oc for the Bayverse (and Rise). Although I think you might be confusing the inserts in this post as my ocs? Or possibly Aida who is @/seafoamtaffy's oc.

Regardless!

You bring up something I've wanted to talk about for ages but have been reluctant to actually discuss because... well...

I was afraid of being stereotyped as the 'over dramatic black woman' just because I'm black and speaking out about black/poc matters.

But fuck it. Lets finally get into it.

I would love it if you made brown/colored Y/N's or inserts in your post because the representation is lacking. Specially in the TMNT fandom which is somewhat ironic because I think a lot would agree that the turtles take a lot from, or have adopted a decent amount of black/poc culture.

I get the whole point of Y/N's, readers, and inserts is quite literally within the names. It's supposed to be whoever is consuming the media right? But... There is just... something so inherently white about how it's usually done.

I don't know if non-poc see it like I do. Probably not. But even when I come across the grey colored y/n drawings I immediately interpret them as white.

Would it exclude a majority of fans if you made your y/n's, inserts, readers brown or poc? Yeah. Welcome to our world. We have to suspend our disbelief nearly all the time when it comes to stuff like this.

But you don't how much it means to us when we're actually represented in our favorite media.

Ultimately I can't force anyone to do anything about it. But maybe voicing my thoughts about this will make others more considerate. Who knows?

Thanks for thinking of me. 🤎

[turtlespancake]

I think we should really talk about "Anything you post on the internet stays on the internet forever" in terms of art. Because it does but also it doesn't.

When you post art online, you HAVE to be ready for the fact that other people will see it. I know that sounds obvious, but I cannot stress that enough. People will misinterpret you work. People with Understand your work in ways that are gratifying beyond belief. People can be mean online. People can be annoying online. People can be kind and supportive online. Sometimes something you pour your heart into can go mostly unnoticed. Sometimes something you spent five minutes on can blow up beyond your wildest dreams. If you're posting art PUBLICALLY online, you have to accept that any and all of these scenarios can happen. Not everyone will get famous in a day. Not everyone will get famous full stop. If you just want the attention, you have to be prepared for the fact that you may not get it. Similarly, if you just want to hide in your little OC corner with your 3 mutuals, you have to be prepared for the fact that a person, or many people who you've never met could see it too.

We are our own worst critics. If a fan said to you the same things you say to yourself, it'd be worth reporting. "This is cringe and fail and had no effort put into it" is something "normal" for an artist to say to themself but would be worth a block if said by a stranger. When streaming services make shows permanently unavailable bs reasons, it's a tragedy. Yet when you take your own animations off of YouTube for your own arbitrary reasons, it's fine and justified. Lost media only counts if it's big, polished studio projects obviously.

Some of my favorite videos on YouTube were made by accounts with under 100 subscribers. Some of my favorite animations and art pieces are genuinely gone from the internet, either because the artist took them down or they got a copyright strike from YouTube or something along those lines. I will likely never see them again, and it bothers me to no end. You have NO idea what impact your art has on people. You may never know. But you HAVE to trust your audience when they say they liked something.

Common reasons people delete their art:

"It was old and bad." You will inevitably get better and learn new things as you keep drawing, but that doesn't mean what you did in the past was necessarily terrible. Even if it was, sometimes it can be fun to see an artist's journey! Plus, if you consistently delete your art once it hits a certain age, it can make it hard for your audience to trust you. How are people supposed to enjoy your new art knowing that there's a 50/50 shot they'll never be able to view it again given enough time?

"It's cringe and embarrassing and I didn't put enough effort into it!" If it's really that bad, no one would look at it. There's value in all art, even if it's "objectively bad" or "cringe." One man's trash is another man's treasure and all that. Plus, just because it's "bad" in one regard doesn't mean it's not phenomenal in another. An animation with problems staying on model can still have fantastic timing. An illustration with confusing lighting can still be beautifully composed. All art is flawed, and all art has its merits. If someone is looking at a piece long enough to notice its mistakes, it means they've been staring at it because they already like it. Please, believe your audience when they say they enjoy something.

"People keep reposting my art without my permission." That genuinely sucks, but how does taking down the original copy help matters? If people are stealing credit from you, getting rid of the original copy -- and effectively the evidence that this really is your art, and no one else's -- won't help. If it's already being reposted, it's not like taking down the original will stop the reposting either since people can just do reposts of reposts. I get the frustration, I really really do!! But taking down your original copy won't stop the problem.

"It's nothing like my other art and I don't create things like this anymore." Not every fan of yours has to be a diehard who looks at/enjoys everything you've ever made. If someone wants to come watch your one warrior cats meme from 2011 when everything else on your YouTube channel has nothing to do with that, then let them enjoy that one video and be on their way. You're not a brand, you don't need to be consistent all the time every time.

"I don't want the attention anymore." That's understandable, but there's other ways of taking eyes off of you than nuking your entire gallery. All hype and drama will inevitably fade with time, and the mute button is your best friend.

"It didn't get enough attention." And you think deleting your art will help you get more attention or something? Some posts take a while to really get going, especially here on tumblr. Not to mention social media is NOT a true indicator of skill or emotional impact. There are professional artists who get 10 likes. There are kids drawing in MS Paint who get millions of likes. If you stay online enough, you'll see both examples a million times over. Don't let a flop post discourage you, and don't give up on a post too soon.

Please, if you're an artist on the internet, be kind to yourself. Young or beginner artists on here, this ESPECIALLY applies to you. You have no idea how you can inspire others. Don't let a few jerks on the internet or your harsh inner critic convince you your art isn't worth seeing, because I PROMISE you it is.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi!! Your Cherik is so good and gorgeous 🤩🤩 If you don't mind wanna try to draw some Fall of X Cherik please?

thank you so much !!

i have a couple of ideas relating to the fall of x period specifically since theres. A Lot i wanna play with, so i hope this lil thing may be a satisfactory start :]]

and the obligatory bonus:

[yardsards]

ryoko kui draws her characters like she genuinely loves the human body. like idk how to describe it but you can taste the love in them. which is very fitting for a manga whose story feels like a love letter to the flesh.

[incesthemes]

the way i look at supernatural, there's a slight but monumental difference in how sam and dean see themselves. it's the difference between guilt and shame.

sam sees himself as containing something evil, something bad inside of him that is compelling him to do harm. and he literally does have something inside him—the demon blood that shapes his destiny. sam prays for salvation and redemption and he believes he can be saved because the thing inside of him can be taken out, and if it's taken out he can be good again.

dean sees himself as being something evil, an inherently bad person whose very existence causes harm. dean represses himself and his individuality because he doesn't trust himself to make his own decisions, because those decisions will inevitably be harmful. he resigns himself to a life of killing and harm, and he can't be saved because you can't extricate the evil from his very being.

sam does evil, and dean is evil. and this slight difference is symbolized even in their mythological roles: sam is lucifer's vessel, dean is michael's sword. containing vs being.

[seaquestions]

blake lets him keep it. this is a dire lapse in judgement on his part but they're just gonna have to live with it. (ids in alts)

[waterfallofspace]

Anyone else not able to say 'bless you', either because it feels too personal, embarrassing, slightly erotic or a mixture of all of the above-

Buuuuuut also whenever an event interrupts the conversation, you feel so much more awkward not saying anything/commenting on it at all, and so you wish you could just... say that phrase, or have some other thing that makes sense to say to just- shrug it off???

[sourscratched]

the hand that feeds

[wttcsms]

horribly short summary of what im trying to accomplish here, but if you were to read a fic featuring character, a soldier honorably discharged and is officially off the battlefield and yet he can’t seem to shake off the war from clinging to his body, and he’s basically a bit of a mess and feels incapable of returning to ordinary life and there’s you, the sweetest thing in the whole world, and he keeps trying to tell you he’s no good and you’re there to help him with everything (and it kills him a bit, to see you wasting your time to help him, and it kills him because he feels like he shouldn’t be the type of person who needs help) and !! just slowburn and falling in love and just read the tags for the vibe ok, who would it be for