#if that was the ONLY way i learned about or talked about it or engaged with it critically

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Snoop

Pairing: Choi Sungcheol x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend knows you’re a snoop. He’d never actually keep it in the house. You find a “ring box” with earrings inside. Christmas morning you go to unwrap the “earrings” and find your own personal easter egg.

Warnings: None…I think.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Hi hoes and hoochies (said with only affection)! I’m baaaccckkkkkk!!! Did ya miss me?? I have recently discovered that my ult bias had changed. This is his introduction into my oeuvre. Everyone say hello to Choi Sungcheol. *cheers and applause👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏👏* Please enjoy, I had sooo much fun writing this. Likes and Reblogs are welcome if you feel so compelled. BEWARE‼️‼️ spelling errors and grammar mistakes may lie ahead. PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION ⚠️⚠️

XOXO, Bibi

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

P.P.S

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate 🎄

Thanks For Reading ❤️

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s here. You know it is. You look in every secret hiding place you can think of, but you can’t it anywhere. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re convinced he’s going to propose. Sungcheol had been hinting at an engagement for months. The two of you have been together for almost 4 years. It’s time. You were sure that you both were on the same page. But where’s the ring? You just want a peek.

Between the 10+ years he had spent with Jeonghan and being your boyfriend for years, Sungcheol had learned how to deal with a snoop. He knew you’d check. So he thought he would leave something for you to find.

“Where the HELL is this ring!?” After flipping the 12th pair of underwear, you were frustrated. Determined to find a ring you flip over pair 13, and apparently today it’s your lucky number. Bingo. Ring box. Excitement floods your veins. Just a tiny peak. You take a deep breath and open the box…revealing a sparkling pair of diamond earrings. They’re gorgeous and probably cost a small fortune, but you can’t help the disappointment that you feel. You’re incredibly hurt and confused but Sungcheol will be home any minute, you’ve gotta get it together.

“Hey baby” Sungcheol greets as he enters the house. The moment he sees you he knows you had found the earrings in his drawer. Part of him feels bad. He never wants to be the reason his girl is upset, but this was a lesson you needed to learn. He makes his way over to where you’re lounging on the couch and places a kiss on your forehead. “Hey” you half hardly reply. You’re trying your best to remain indifferent but your feelings are hurt. S.Coups doesn’t question your mood, he knows the cause. He plops down next to you and grabs a few goldfish from your bowl. Despite your mood, you try to relax and enjoy the rest of your evening with your boyfriend. In the back of your mind you’re still thinking about, what not finding a ring means for your relationship. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, after all these years and the long talk the two of you had about a life together on your last trip to Jeju. Will he ever?

*Christmas Morning*

You wake up on Christmas morning both thrilled and anxious. Your best friend had flown in from out of town to spend Christmas with you. You make your way down the hall, to the guest bedroom where she’s staying. You knock before waiting for her response. When she welcomes you in, you plop yourself on her bed heaving a big sigh. “What’s the matter with you” she asks as she turns to rummage through her suitcase. You stare up at the ceiling for a second before speaking, “It’s Christmas and my boyfriend hates me”. She turns and looks at you puzzled. “What are you talking about, that boy is obsessed with you” she gets up and shoves you over so she can lay beside you. You give her a sad smile, “Apparently he’s only obsessed for now. Forever with me isn’t appealing to him.” She looks over at you and resists the urge to hit you. Instead she simply says, “You don’t even believe yourself.” You don’t have the energy to fight her so you stand and ask if she’s ready for breakfast.

After breakfast, the three of you move to the living room to open gifts. This is the part you’ve been dreading. You watch with a small smile as your best friend opens her presents. The three of you has played rock paper scissors. She won, Then Sungcheol, you were last. Once she finishes S.coups pipes up. “Okay, my turn.” Sungcheol unwraps his new watch and looks at you with a big dimpled smiled. “Thank you my heart, I love it. Okay Baby, your turn.”

This is it. You can do this. You begin unwrapping the box you had stolen a glance at last night. You will your hands not to shake as you begin to pry it open. Your mouth flies open in shock at the diamond ring inside. Your eyes raise from the box in your hand to Sungcheol who has shifted from his place beside you to on his knee in front of you. “Angel, will you say yes to forever? Will you say yes to late nights with crying babies and early mornings with teething toddlers? trips around the world and nights on the couch at home? Will you say yes to the rest of our lives together? Baby I wanna build our life together from the ground up. Will you marry me?” Sungcheol doesn’t get a chance to blink before you launch yourself into his arms. “YES!” you squeal, before burying your face in his neck and crying. Right now you’re to happy to try and figure out where the this ring came from. You were sure you’d checked everywhere.

Later that night you’re staring at your newest accessory, when something occurs to you. “Coupsie, where did you have the ring at?” Sungcheol turns to you with a raised eyebrow. “Wow. You gave yourself up that quick huh?” Your eyes go wide as you realize your mistake. “I- wait…what?” He shifts his body closer to you and clears his throat. “After we had that talk in Jeju about getting married, I immediately started looking at rings. I knew that meant that you would also start snooping for a ring in the house.” He pinches your side playfully before speaking again. “So, I went and looked at rings for a month after work before I found the perfect ring. I went online and had it ordered to the store near your best friend’s house. She’s been keeping it with her this whole time.” Your eyes tear up at his confession. You feel guilty for the way you had felt prior to his proposal. “When I couldn’t find the ring. I was convinced we weren’t on the same page, and you didn’t want to marry me.” you confess. Sungcheol sighs before pulling you into his arms. “I also figured that would happen. But I needed you to be surprised. You deserve to feel special. I want to make plans for you. Just relax, let me take the lead sometimes. I’ve got you.” You look at him with a soft smile, eyes brimming with tears. Never in your life had you felt so seen. You snuggle closer to him and shut your eyes. Sending out an internal “thank you” to the universe for bringing the two of you together.

[taylortruther]

hot take but i truly do not believe meaningful feminist education or critical engagement of feminism can happen when your primary method is through celebrity stanning/stan wars. because i think if you truly did educate yourself about any facet of feminism, and critically engaged with it, you would not actually seek it in celebrities.

[shiraishi--kanade]

I remember hearing a video essayist for a different fandom saying a lot of people are having wild takes on the media in question because it's becoming more common to get information about the books second-hand than to actually read the books. And I think something like this happened with pjsk. Except worse because we don't even have video essays we have tiktoks. And that's why We're Like This

[batsplat]

OT3: casey stoner/his neuroses/the concept of valentino rossi that mostly exists in casey’s head

y'know I have this casey stoner... idk what it is. thematic mind map (literal), let's say, that I like fiddling with and adding things to when the mood hits me. and it does always strike me just how many of his struggles during his careers and issues with the sport can in some way be linked back to the valentino rivalry

casey's sense of isolation? super valentino related. casey's feelings of cultural alienation in a paddock dominated by europeans? even when it's not really related to valentino, casey is the one linking those two things together. casey's issues with other riders not being respectful enough on track? very obviously repeatedly about valentino. casey's discomfort with the performance and entertainment-related aspects of the sport? more valentino. casey feeling treated unfairly by the manufacturers, the media, the marshals, the fans.... keeps coming back to valentino. casey's mystery illness really shouldn't be as relevant to the rivalry as it is, but somehow through this combination of public discourse and whatever comparisons casey's brain is cooking up at any moment in time... there valentino is again

one of the most charming things about valentino's feuds is that in each and every single one, both participants end up being deeply weird about each other? just keep knocking off these banger quotes about the other where you read them and go. hm. what's going on there then. I don't want to make it sound like I think casey is the worst offender with this (not when marc and valentino have their whole thing going on, bidirectionally)... but I do think he's the most susceptible to conflating his valentino issues with like... everything else that was going on in his career. to the extent where his alienation with the sport as a whole, his extreme disillusionment from everything related to motogp, really cannot be meaningfully disentangled from the valentino rivalry. at times it feels like, to casey, valentino literally is the sport. and that's the thing casey dedicated his whole life to!! which means you do inevitably end up regularly going 'wow there's a lot to unpack'. add in a dash of neuroticism...

and yeah you're so right anon!! the neuroses are what end up creating the version of valentino that mostly exists in casey's head, a version that casey is just a touch obsessed with. I always think it's interesting how aware casey is that he doesn't know valentino as a person - and to the extent casey does know him, he gets on pretty well with him... but valentino the person isn't all that relevant to him. it's valentino the character who matters - and can you even really know a character? in the end, all casey can do is rely on his own understanding of that character, as imperfect as it is. and, well, in a way casey is trapped with that character forevermore. if one man comes to embody a sport to such an extent and if that sport has been your life's work, how can you not be a little bit trapped? as he tries to make his peace with the sport and his experiences within it, so too has casey settled on a narrative of valentino that helps him make sense of it all... a very specific understanding of his rival that casey has shaped in his mind and still trots out now when he sells his own version of events to the media. casey learned from valentino, casey learned to be a little more like valentino, casey learned to fight valentino with his own tools, casey tells himself a story of that fight. he still continues to do so - and in the end he will never be entirely free of valentino

[whywoulditho]

not saying the holocaust wasn't bad. but i need people to understand that it wasn't the only genocide that happened in the same period of world history. not because i want you to pay less attention to holocaust but because i need you to ask why it's the only one we ever talk about. it wasn't the longest occured massacre of a marginalized group, it wasn't the most gruesome, it wasn't the one with the most casualties, it wasn't the first and it wasn't the last one. i need people to think about why we didn't pay much attention to all the other holocausts after WWII that happened simultaniously and were just as horrible. it says so much about media, the news we are fed, and that our empathy is BOUGHT by the same people that keep funding genocides all over the world.

[kshaar]

i did not make the post complaining about datv plot that i wanted to when i finished the game but one of the bullet points on it was 'where is the reckoning to shake the heavens that flemeth promised? we lost kate mulgrew for this?' which is a bullet point that might make one realize that one's complaints are very niche and specific and thats not what people look for in 10-year-later sequels and you nix the whole post

and then almost two weeks later d*vid g*ider makes a post about flemeth & morrigan & how they were always so fundamental to dragon age [which he begins by calling himself out for older women being his type- i dont want to talk about it] and another about how the scene between morrigan & kieran & flemythal was written and shot for here lies the abyss, morrigan saying she would never be the mother [to kieran] that flemeth was to her 🥺which is STILL the most impactful thing from inquisition

then you see the messy cowardly bullshit fucking story we got in veilguard, the way that mythal's fragment is in there ultimately to absolve this man for killing her, and morrigan is only there as her mouthpiece and the only way to convince this man that he needs to stop is if people tell him 'its okay man' because thats our priority right. making him feel better. fuck the dwarves dreams and the blight and the-

i don't know, i don't really have a point

[hsslilly-blog]

source

[bunnyboy-juice]

i think its so wild how ppl still try to make it seem like nonmonogamy is inherently smthn freeing and better than monogamy bc they see monogamy as the avenue for IPV and its like. oh buddy do i have news for you.

[snekdood]

Idrc if you wanna find the politics in every piece of media you consume but personally i dont really care to all the time like idk. Like idk sometimes i just wanna enjoy shit w/o constantly thinking about the underlying politics or whatever? Sometimes its hard to ignore if its super rw based but still, a lot of other shit i just feel like im investing more energy into this shit than was intended for most ppl like idk. The underlying political implications of spirited away. Idk i just dont really care lol

[smartichokes]

fuck the world. arts major and STEM minor

[sabertoothwalrus]

tips for getting people to like your ocs

*disclaimer: this is based on what’s worked for me, aka an artist that likes to make comics/storyboards. so this advice is directed at people who do that

you can do things like this:

Which is fun! Character sheets like this are great, especially for personal reference! But frankly, I don’t think most people engage with this (at least I personally don’t). You could have the coolest character in the world, but it will be harder for most people to feel invested when they’re presented so neutrally like this.

My main piece of advice is: get better at writing.

That might sound harsh when said like that, but let me explain what I mean! (Not trying to imply you’re bad at writing either!)

What I tend to do is just throw characters into situations with as little handholding as I can. Give enough context that readers can follow along, but don’t feel like they’re being explained to.

what can you learn about the characters through their designs alone? (age, personality, economic status, occupation, etc)

what can you learn about the characters’ relationship though their interactions alone? (are they close? familial? romantic? is there hostility? are they tense/relaxed?)

what are the characters currently doing? what were they doing previously (how long have they been talking)? what are they going to do next? can you convey this without dialogue?

how do they feel about what they are doing? are they content? focused? over/understimulated? would they rather be doing something else?

where are they? does it matter? would establishing a setting in at least one panel clarify the scene? is there anything in the enviroment that could tell some of the story?

what time of day is it? what time of year is it? what is the weather like?

Now, with all this in mind, I'm going to give you another example. I'm going to use completely brand new characters for the sake of the experiment, so you won't have any bias (aka I can’t use Protagonist from above, since you already know all about him).

Did this get more of an emotional response from you than the first example? Why do you think so? Who are these characters? How do they know each other? What else can you infer about them? What happened? Who is "she"?

Now, you don't have to actually answer all those questions. But think about them! You can tell people a whole lot about your characters without ever showing them a list of their likes and dislikes.

Obviously, comics aren't the only way to get people invested in your original characters! But regardless, easily digestible formats will grab people's attention faster than huge blocks of text, and comics are a lot less work than doing wholeass storyboards.

Now go and share your ocs with the world!!!

[neverendingford]

.

[dreadfutures]

#i'm sad to hear this because it doesn't reflect my own experience #i actually see more fic and art because i'm in discords with people who share those things and ALSO reblog #but my discord circles probably skew toward older tumblr users who reblog stuff - @anneapocalypse

#discord has me so much more connected to my fellow authors and fanartists#it's sad that it's not a universal experience - @inquisimer

This.

There are some servers where it really is a black hole: people will say "look at this" and it's just a piece of art with no source. Those servers suck tbf.

But.

Discord servers -- any community -- will be as crediting, and reciprocal, and engaged, as any other community, based on the people who build the culture in that community; new people joining communities see that culture and either conform with joy, or they get pushed to conform. And when that culture is one of mutual celebration of creativity, then that's what gets fostered in its participants--and it does leak out into other communities.

Every individual who asks for a source or for a link when someone shares their own or someone else's creativity -- that person who asks is spreading that culture of mutual interest. It becomes a norm, and your community will eventually thrive.

There are always people who will take without giving, whether the sharing/resharing/commenting culture is codified in a Rule or not. But Discord doesn't inherently make people less inclined to share, speak of, or comment on, art and fic. That's down to their own awareness and apathy toward that culture -- which everyone, on every platform, has been complaining about seeing a decrease in in recent years. "So much about fandom now is just pure absorption and no actual engagement" is definitely true.

But I have seen people get more brave about commenting, and more aware of how tumblr works with its reblogging feature, after joining our discords and seeing exactly why those things matter and why they make other people feel good and why it's worth them specifically reaching out and commenting/sharing when things cross their desk.

I'm really proud of the community culture that's been fostered in those servers. It's impossible to engage with everyone's works, but everyone makes an effort to make sure their interest and enthusiasm is known both to the author/artist directly (whether the artist/author is in the discord itself or not!), and to the larger internet where applicable.

This isn't directed to OP so much as it's directed to the 1 person who commented on their fic -- be the change, encourage that celebration in everyone, and encourage all your shy folks around you to actually tell the creators they like that they like them! it takes so few spoons to leave a comment or to reblog something, and those are acts of love.

we don't talk enough about discords place in the slow death of tumblr. and i say that as someone who uses and loves discord. but the seperation between reblogging and talking on discord def affected how we communicate here. something i see really often is people sharing gifs and art on discord and being like "how pretty is this!" and still never reblog it. or people will talk about a fic on discord or twitter and then the fic itself barely has comments on ao3, so the creators feel like no one is seeing their stuff, or worse, that no one cares. i remember being completely floored when one (1) person on ao3 said their entire server was talkin about my fic bc if they hadn't had commented that i would never know! so much abt fandom now is just pure absorption and no actual engagement.

[cathnospam]

Thinking about doing one of those 21 sex questions for couples with canon!Katsuki Bakugo aka your boyfriend.

Black!Reader, Virginity Loss Mentioned, Canon!Bakugo, Mentions of Sex, Slightly Smutty, Bantering

He thinks it’s stupid at first. Not wanting to engage in such a dumb activity, “For fucking what? I already know everything about your body.”

Bakugo was always the type to tell you no, as he was doing it, but this suggestion did take a bit of convincing seeing as he was never the type to be very vocal about the intimate moments with you both.

“C’mon…” You whine holding his strong bicep he had curled in with the other. You almost get distracted by his strength and began lifting your legs to swing on him as if you were a monkey.

“ALRIGHT!” He shrugs you off, sucking his teeth seeing how excited you were to finally wear him down. “What are the questions, dumbass.”

You both lean on the headboard of your dorm bed and scroll through the several ads and comments to find the section of questions.

“Okay, first question; are you and your partner sexually active—“

“Obviously.”

“‘Suki…”

“What?! It’s a dumbass question.”

You roll your eyes and scoff at your pouting boyfriend still with his arms crossed and eye’ing you down and landing his eyes back to the screen.

“Does your partner know how to satisfy you?”

“Well yes, I believe you do.”

Bakugo blows out his nose and looks away, not wanting to answer you almost took offense and your face must have shown it, because he gestures his hand out to you, “Of course you do, dumbass why do you think we do it a lot.”

“A lot is an understatement.”

“What?! Not even you idiot!”

“When’s the last time we had sex, ‘Suki.”

“…”

“Hellooooo.”

“Am I answering your questions or the fucking websites.”

“Question 4: How often do you and your partner have sex.”

“DON’T SKIP 3–“

“QUESTION 4–“

“THIS FUCKING AFTERNOON WE DID SO WHAT?”….”You were practically begging for my dick.”

“I wasn’t the one humping your ass when I got out the shower—“

“SHUT UP. And I wasn’t humping you I’m not a fucking dog.”

“Grinding whatever, your dick almost slipped inside from what you was doing!”

“AND?!”

“We have had sex about 4 times this week. It’s only Tuesday.”

Bakugo shifts around, cheeks warming up, he can’t help it. Honestly, it shocked him how much he enjoyed sex with you, you took each other virginity and through out the time you both were just having casual sex it was a lot of learning involved and it became addictive to him. It started off as him just wanting to learn to be better, but now the improvement is what also motivates him.

The way you scratch his back, the way you cream on his dick, your soft plushy body against his, the faces you make are all because of him. You subconsciously stroke his ego when you do that.

You became his best worst distraction. The main reason it became embarrassing for him is because you brought it out. He loves and hates you sometimes for it.

“Then we’ll cool down. I told you to always tell me no if you don’t want to.” He deadpans trying to ignore how shy I’m his body language is becoming.

“Who said I wanted that? I never told you no for a reason. Blondie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You giggle, looking back at the dimly lit screen to scroll for more questions, “What’s something or somethingS your partner does during or after sex you can’t get enough of.”

You wait, turning your head at your Blondie, seeing as he is looking at your first to respond, “Ladies first.”

“You—ugh fine.” You sit up from your bent over position and Katsuki’s eyes couldn’t tear from yours. In all honesty he was curious to know too. “I love those…rare moments when you’re directly in my ear and you moan my name, you don’t talk often during, but it’s …hot or whatever.”

He huffs out a chuckle looking away for a moment, he figured from the way you clench down everytime he does.

“Anything else?”

You pause, poking your tongue through your cheek. “Yeah. When you hold my hand when you go down on me, you always act like I would hate your sweat on your hands when I really love it.”

“Because you’re gross.”

“Oh shut up!”

“….what else.”

His voice grew soft. You didn’t want to tease him about it, but you also loved when he became attentive to what you said, you knew by the twinkle in his eye he wants to know more, mainly because he definitely will be doing all those things you love even more now.

“I love when you slap my ass. It hurts in a good way.”

“I do too. Next time I might land an explosion on it—“

“You bet not, you damn pervert.”

“Shut up, what else.”

“…um….it’s embarrassing.”

“Just fucking tell me it’s just us.”

“….When you clean me up after, y’know either with a towel or in the bath. And sometimes in the bath it lead to you to …”

“To…?”

“Finger me.”

You notice the curl in his lip, it’s kinda hot to him how you’re admitting all of this. He wants to pry more, but from your embarrassment he will spare you…for now.

“Well, I guess I like how you get so clingy when you’re cumming. It’s hot. You act like a fucking koala and you just won’t let go of me.”

“Just Like…?”

“Tch.”

You teased him, you knew that word love is still hard for him to say, and you both knew what he meant, but it was worth a try to get him to say it.

“I ….enjoy when you demand what you want. Like the other day when you told me to lay back so you can ride my thigh.”

“….” You couldn’t say much but smile and feel shy. Honestly it was something you were terrified to do because who on earth tells Katsuki what to do?

“Good. Glad y’liked it.”

“Don’t make it a regular occurrence though you not in charge here.”

“Shut up!”

“Also when you kiss me all over after cumming. You’re such a damn sap after getting your brains fucked out it’s kinda hot.”

“Y’know….”

“What it’s true, dumbass.”

“Anything else.” You sang, seeing his flinch at you coming closer to his face he groans, “That’s all you can’t get enough of?”

“Tch…I ain’t telling you all of ‘em.”

“It would take all night.”

Bakugo prayed you wouldn’t hear that last part, but you did. Knowing he would probably walk out the room, so you don’t tease him, “One more. Just one more.”

For the first time in a while you seen conflict in his eyes, also similar to when you first asked him if he was ready to have sex with you.

The silence was loud, not awkward but it was enough to make you want to move on until he spoke—-

“The way you trust me.”

“…”

“You let me inside you, touch you, and all that mushy shit we have read in those books and knowing you let me is fucking…hot or whatever.”

“….”

“I say bend over you do it, I make you say my name and you do it, I say on your knees you do it….you just….trust that I’m ganna take care of you. Like you depend on me.”

You still didn’t have much to say, you realized being dependent on Katsuki was something he always took pride in. He may “complain”, but deep down he loves knowing he is the only one that sees you at your most vulnerable.

Bakugo hates the silence, throwing up all of that love knowing damn well he struggles to even say the word, he groans uncomfortably, “Fucking say something—“

You lean over to him, lips crashing gently with his, you taste the minty mess of his breath as he slides his tongue inside your mouth, a natural reflex he has a habit of doing whenever you two kiss.

“Of course I trust you. You’re Katsuki.”

His eyes widen for a second before pulling away, “The hell thats supposed to mean.” He says light heartily .

“‘Means you’re worth trusting….I hope you trust me too.”

You idiot. If only you knew he trusts his life with you.

You stretch back on the headboard and exhale and ease the tension, “Been knowing you and ‘Zuzu since elementary of course I grew to trust you.”

Bakugo groans at the mention of Deku and that damn nickname. “Whatever.” He blushes. “What are the other questions.”

“Oh so noooowwww you wanna know—-“

“WHAT ARE THEY?!”

[solelifauna]

With Bared Teeth & Prayers (Yandere Batfam X Neglected Reader) (Dark!!! Werewolf AU) (PT. 1)

TW: Mentions/allusions to cannibalism, death, and violence.

Three years had passed since that fateful day and your life had only gotten more miserable. Whatever hopes you had for being a part of a family were thwarted as soon as you stepped foot in the household. Bruce doesn't care about you, Dick was straight up mean, Jason (as the pack protector) was aggressive, Tim found you annoying, and Damien simply loathed your existence and would join Dick with his cruelty.

Both Stephanie and Barbara were civil with you, but neither really cared about what you did. Cassandra was nice, sometimes signing to you and giving you scented clothing, but she still didn't really go out of her way to engage with you. The only person who you felt truly cared about you was Alfred.

The first two years you tried your hardest to fit in and get the others to like you. You did whatever they wanted, made sure to learn their interests so you could talk to them, never complained, and made sure to respect the pack's boundaries.

You hoped that eventually, you’d all move past this hurdle and soon you would get along and be allowed in the pack den and other pack activities. Unfortunately, you realized that you would never be considered part of the family or the pack. Which as heartbreaking as it was, was the least of your worries.

You see, there was an ancient custom in werewolf culture concerning new pack members and pack initiation. When a new werewolf is introduced to a pack and their territory, the new werewolf has a certain amount of time to be accepted into the pack; if they’re not, well, they're killed and eaten. 

Yeah… quite terrifying and barbaric if you think about it, but mostly only the old lineages still continue this practice. Which is why you’re absolutely fucked. See, typically when children come to a pack they get accepted immediately, pups were (usually) considered precious.

In your case, being a half-blood severely reduced your chances and well, you guessed the Wayne family just didn't like you. Which sucks because you only have until your 18th birthday to get them to accept you, and considering your 16th birthday was coming up, your time was coming to a close. 

Or, you could always just run away. Hey! It was an option, one that you weren't sure the Bats would even let happen. Still it was worth a try. Which leads to your current situation in Bruce's office; you were trying to cut your losses a little early.

~~~~~~

“Look, I just feel as though this is the best course of action for your pack’s and my own safety.” Came your exasperated and desperate voice.

“Safety?” Bruce questions, causally flipping through some Wayne Industries documents, as if he doesn't know exactly what you're talking about.

“Considering Damian’s tried to kill me five times, two of his attempts almost being successful, and Jason's pit aggression that has him ready to rip my throat out, you can see why someone would feel unsafe.” You state, voice raising slightly in pitch.

He hummed noncommittally, his eyes still focusing on whatever paperwork he was going over.

“I'll think about it.” He replies, still disinterested.

“There’s nothing to think about! I should be allowed to leave if I want to, and if anything I'll finally be out of your pack's way.” You say, finally letting your frustration show through.

Why couldn't he just let you leave? Did he seriously want to keep you here just to kill– sorry, eat you in another two years?

“Excuse me?” He finally looks up from his work, his blue eyes meeting yours. He was unimpressed, you could tell that much at least, coupled with a dark look of simmering anger.

Okay, so maybe you should tone it down a notch.

“Come on, I'm not an idiot. I know me being here is simply a public formality, good fluff bits for the press y'know. But I'm not part of your family, and I'm certainly not part of your pack. You and the others have made that very clear. So please, allow me to do us both a favor and get out of your way.” You add.

“Where would you go?”

“Huh?” You blink in surprise.

“Where would you go?” Bruce repeats again.

“That–that is honestly none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? Aren't I entitled to know where my kid is?”

“No, you’re not. Sure you're biologically considered my father, but we all know I'm not really considered your kid.”

“Is that what you think?” He questions.

“Am I supposed to think any differently?”

“You carry the Wayne surname do you not?”

“I do.”

“Then you belong to the Waynes. To me. Which means that I decide what happens to you.”

There was the familiar darkness that you saw pooling in Bruce’s eyes, the type that left the Joker a tortured mess, the type that disemboweled Ra’s Al Ghul, the type of darkness that reminded you that Batman doesn’t kill. Oh no, he maims and tortures instead.

You unconsciously take a careful step back. 

Bruce’s stare felt like ice, and his words hung in the air, thick and heavy with an authority that was absolute. You wanted to argue, to say something, but every instinct in your body screamed for caution. There was a darkness in his gaze that you had seen glimpses of before, but never directed at you, and now it was there, unblinking, cutting through any hope you’d harbored for mercy or understanding.

Your heart hammered, yet you forced yourself to stand straighter, swallowing down the instinctive fear. 

“With all due respect,” you began, your voice smaller than you intended but steady, “staying here for another two years just for you all to—to follow through with that—custom, doesn’t seem fair.”

Bruce’s expression didn’t soften, but his posture shifted slightly, his gaze piercing through you like he could see every thought you tried to hide. 

“Belonging is earned. It isn’t granted because of blood,” he stated coldly. “If you truly wish to belong somewhere, you work for it.”

“I’ve tried,” you said, voice thick with frustration. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve followed your rules, I tried with everyone, and stayed out of everyone’s way. But nothing I do is good enough.”

“You assume that acceptance is given on your terms,” he replied, voice as controlled as ever. “Pack structure doesn’t bend to anyone’s whims. Least of all a half-blood who hasn’t proven their loyalty.”

The words stung, tearing open a wound that you thought had scarred over. You clenched your fists, feeling the sharp ache of your own nails digging into your palms. “And what exactly does proving myself look like here? Surviving Damian’s attacks? Letting Jason rip me apart every chance he gets?”

“Watch your tone,” he warned, his voice low, cutting through any retort you’d planned.

You took a shaky breath, forcing yourself to take another step back from his desk. Challenging him wouldn’t help. He’d already decided where you stood, and nothing you said would change that. Maybe it was better to save your energy, conserve your strength for the day you’d finally slip away.

“Understood,” you said, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

 But you’d still leave when the time comes.

Bruce’s gaze hardened, like he knew what you were thinking. “Your place is here until I decide otherwise,” he said, a finality in his tone that told you any further argument would only worsen things.

He dismissed you with a look, returning to his papers as if the conversation were over, as if you were no longer there. Every step you took out of the office felt heavier, like the manor itself was holding you down, binding you to this place that was never truly a home.

As you closed the door behind you, the cold emptiness of the hallway wrapped around you, and you knew then—you were on your own. If you were to survive this, it would be on your own terms.

It's like clockwork when Alfred calls you down for dinner. The same time, the same routine.

You show  up to dinner, hands still shaking and mind still reeling from your disturbingly cryptic conversation with Bruce. But, never mind that you’d just eat quietly and leave like you always do. You moved to your normal seat only to find that all the chairs near the end of the table had disappeared. What the actual fuck. Was this some type of powerplay? Something to imply that you didn’t even have a seat at their table anymore? 

You mean, you wouldn't mind eating in the safety and comfort of your own room. With an exasperated sigh, which had a couple of heads turn their attention to you, you grabbed an empty plate and started loading it up with food. You were about to head back to your room when you heard an outraged growl from behind you.

The kind of growl that had you tensing, ready to submit and roll onto your back.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason growled out from behind you.

You freeze.

“To my room?” You responded meekly, curling in on yourself as much as you could.

“And pray tell, why do you think that’d be acceptable?”

“Uh–um, ‘cause my seats’ gone?”

Jason only smirked, the feral kind that almost always promised pain to his enemies.

“Oh, but your chair isn't gone, it's right here.” Jason says pointing to a chair right near the head of the table.

You blanked. That's not right. Only pack was allowed that close to the head of the table, where Bruce sat, where the pack leader sat.

“B-But, I can’t–”

“Did that sound like a suggestion?”

You shook your head no, swallowing down a whimper that almost escaped your lungs.

“Then sit your ass down,” Jason growled.

He didn't have to tell you twice.

Immediately you shakily sat down in your new seat, on the left side of Bruce’s seat at the head of the table with Jason sitting at your left shoulder and Dick across from you. Not good, not good at all. You could feel the acidic, green gaze of Jason burning into the side of your face whilst Dick languidly sipped his wine, a sickeningly sweet smile (with way too many teeth to be considered anything but malicious), plastered on his face as he stared at the new seating chart. You let out a shaky breath, trying to get your heart rate back to normal; you were so gonna die tonight.

Thankfully, Bruce arrived and sat himself in his seat at the head of the table; right next to you. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on getting air in your lungs and slowing your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Bruce shot a knowing stare at the rest of the table. As much as you tried to conceal it, they could all hear your rapidly fluttering heartbeat and your poorly hidden breathing. Tim and Jason both watched you amused; you looked so darn pathetic, sitting there trembling like a leaf. 

You glanced down at your plate, picking at the food without really tasting it, hoping that staying silent would help you melt into the background.

Bruce, however, remained still and silent, his presence looming over you, radiating the authority that seemed to keep everyone else in check. But even that felt like a facade; the way his gaze lingered on you for a split second too long told you he was watching closely, assessing.

You forced yourself to take a bite, trying to steady your hands enough to appear somewhat composed. But the sound of your own heartbeat seemed to echo in your ears, loud and unrelenting, as if amplifying the anxiety that twisted in your gut. They could hear it too; you knew that much from the way Jason’s smirk deepened, from the way Tim’s lips twitched with barely-contained laughter.

As the dinner dragged on, every clink of a fork, every quiet murmur, felt like it was directed at you. The food turned to ash in your mouth, each bite only reminding you of the eyes trained on you, dissecting you with every chew and every breath.

The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence, every second an endurance test as you forced yourself to stay seated, to keep your head down. When Bruce finally pushed his chair back and dismissed everyone, the wave of relief was almost enough to make you lightheaded. Quick as a whip, you practically ran up the stairs towards the safety and solace of your room.

When you make it, the locks on your door are immediately fastened (not that it would do much if anyone wanted to actually force their way in). You exhale in relief as you try to collect your thoughts. Fuck, everything was going to shit; the worst part being you had school tomorrow (which thankfully you did not go to Gotham Prep; you'd kill yourself if you did). You groaned at the thought, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes to relieve the ache shooting through them.

Looks like another night of shitty sleep.

Taglist!!: @lostsomewhereinthegarden, @the-rouge-robin, @confused-they

[catmask]

hi im actually happy to expand on my thoughts about this

its not that relating to art or projecting our own feelings onto it is bad or unnatural, its something thats bound to happen when learning to empathize with the experience of another person being shared with you.

what i do feel the need to critique though and why the piece resonates so heavily with me is i feel much modern relation of/consumption of/interpretation of art is focused so heavily on what we as individuals take away from it and less so what the artist themself was trying to say.

its my thought that art is meant to be a conversation between creator and voyeur. at the end of the day the creator will have an intent and the viewer will have an interpretation. but a large part of why we consume AND create art is to understand perspectives that arent our own to reframe the experiences we do have.

do you see the trouble then in a conversation where one only talks about themself? or, for the instance of many art pieces that get meme'd, when nothing can be engaged with in earnest or attempted to be understood beyond what is able to be laughed at?

itd be the same as saying 'are we not allowed to make jokes now?' not at all. but theres a time and a place for everything. i think that its good for us to sit with and internalize our experiences of art, but i feel like its no mistake in the generation we are in that art is a commodity first rather then a form of self expression that we always look for ways we can peel it back and wear it as our own skin.

at the end of the day, art and its relatability become a product, and the person inside it scraped out so we can fit ourselves inside rather than sit quietly alongside them.