#it was based and incredible to say the least

[cowgirlvi]

mdni.   sub-bottom jinx.   fem-top reader.   face fucking.   deep throating.   strap-on usage.

wc; 1,077

thinking about jinx deep throating your strap. it started off as an innocent oral fixation. you first noticed it with the way she was always biting her nails— chipping her brand new polish— or chewing on the ends of her braids. then it progressed into something more obscene one day, seemingly out of nowhere. jinx asked— or, more so, demanded— to cockwarm your strap with the inside of her cheek, casually while the two of you watched a movie.

and eventually, it led to this moment.

jinx’s body is entirely void of clothes as her head hangs off the edge of the bed. despite her nakedness, you aren’t touching her pussy, not today. you pulled off her striped pants earlier— the pair that looks like a candy wrapper— along with her dark red panties, cooing at the sticky string of slick that connected to the cotton fabric.

jinx’s legs are splayed wide so you can stare at her spread pussy while you fuck her throat. her cunt is leaking like a fountain down her thighs and you’re sure she’s laying in a sopping wet puddle of her own arousal. you doubt she notices, though; too dumb on cock at this point.

you’ve never sucked someone’s cock before or a strap or any other phallic objects for that matter, so you aren’t sure if it hurts or not. you assume it must have to— at least a little bit�� but you know jinx prefers it that way based off the way her little clit is twitching, begging for attention it won’t be receiving.

you know it makes jinx feel pleasantly dizzy, like she’s in a dark void of silence, that it’s almost meditative for her. she’s told you as much before and you’re happy to be of service. of course, you don’t mind the obscene view or noises either.

“hnngh, euwalkh, euwalkh.” that’s the sound jinx’s throat makes as you use her like a fucktoy. it’s pornographic and humiliating and it echoes throughout the quietness of your bedroom.

her throat is a light shade of red and you can see the outline of your strap every time you press it inside her. her throat is tiny, it’s an incredibly tight fit— maybe as small as the hole she has between her legs.

her thin fingers are gripping the back of your thighs, as if a small part of her believes that she can control the pace of your thrusts— but she quickly realizes that she’s not in control of anything when you shove your cock past her gag reflex, and then she’s digging her nails into your skin without meaning to.

after a lot of initial practice, jinx can officially take your cock to the hilt, until your silicone balls are pressed against her little nose and she can briefly smell your own wet pussy. she likes when you stuff her throat full of your shaft, she likes how it deprives her brain of any oxygen and she begins to feel lightheaded. the static in her ears is also a nice touch— it’s soothing, better than hearing the taunting whispers.

“fuuck, you’re taking so much of me, baby.” but your voice sounds faraway to her, like she’s underwater, or maybe you are, or possibly both of you— who is she to say? jinx really can’t decide on anything right now.

you’re playing with her tits like stress balls. you like the way her hips hump the air— how she writhes beneath you when your nails scrape across the pink, pointed tips of her nipples. that’s the only stimulation she’s allowed to receive; you pinching her nipples between two fingertips and then groping the entire delicate mounds with a sense of perverted urgency. 

your hands roam greedily over jinx’s minimal curves, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh like you’ve been starved of her body for far too long. your fingers gently trace down her body, running along the outline of her abdomen and she flinches as if it tickles, resulting in her choking on more of your cock.

snickering, you tangle your fingers in her braids, scratching your nails against her scalp and pulling on her hair until she feels a shiver run through her entire body— pins and needles. her vision is blurring and darkening at the edges. jinx moans noisily around your strap.

using your grip on her hair, you pull her head back further, shoving your cock inside her throat deeper than before. you hump your hips against her face with an increase in speed, and the change in angle shoots electricity up your spine. the pressure on your clit is perfectly intense, setting every nerve-ending in your body alight with white-hot pleasure.

your eyes fall on the sight of her desperate pussy again, the way it’s quivering, how her clit is swollen and engorged and a purple-ish pink. her little cunt is glistening under the lowlights of your bedroom, it’s drowning in her own juices.

you groan, your head falling back and your thrusts becoming erratic. you think just the sight of her pussy— the way her legs are spread whorishly— is enough to make you come.

jinx whimpers when your thrusts become unexpected and staccato. this isn’t the first time you’ve come from fucking her face. with how tight her throat is, the way it grips onto your strap just right, it grinds precisely against your clit. the sensation is overwhelming, all-consuming, and you’re lost to the pure, unadulterated pleasure radiating from your core.

”mmffuck! doing so good, sweetheart— unghh!”

you feel like you’re on a different astral plane as you orgasm against her face, and all you can think about is what it would be like to come down her throat, to stuff jinx’s esophagus full of the sticky strings of your essence— forcing her to taste you for days with how deep you are. you want to paint her tonsils with your release.

jinx gags and chokes, throat constricting around the rigid shaft as you grinds your hips in tight circles, working her neck like a fleshy cocksleeve. jinx’s pink eyes are teary when her own orgasm slams into her, cunt clamping down on nothing as your ruthless face-fucking pushes her over the edge. her tangy juices squirt out of her pussy, splattering against the baby pink bedsheets, marking them with the proof of her intense, cock-drunk ecstasy.

taglist; @marvelwomenarehot0, @marieeeluvsyou, @mxchi-mxxn, @el-amor-que-tu-quieres, @jinxvex, @mwahbabe, @teddybearbutch28, @stupendousbananasharkcop, @nahcala, @ellieslob, @idontwannabehereatm, @rhian88, @kyur1jinx

(2/9/25)

[froggibus]

Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light. 

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ‘World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug. 

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg. 

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands. 

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around. 

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. 

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing. 

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly. 

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head. 

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard contains billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out. 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately. 

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you. 

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—” 

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different. 

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems. 

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth. 

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you. 

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be. 

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut. 

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his. 

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on your shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves. 

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs. 

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall. 

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror. 

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn. 

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos. 

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone. 

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously. 

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face. 

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection. 

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

masterlist | dc masterlist

[clairedaring]

brb. currently screaming at the DETAILS of gelboys ep 1

(SOURCE © @virtualtadpole)

text version under the cut for readers' accessibility

I'll leave the raving about Boss and his team's meticulous craftsmanship to u/ThoughtsAllDay and others, but man, there's so much detail packed in here, I had to take notes. Which wasn't easy while watching on iQiyi without VIP, as each time you inadvertently scroll back past an ad insertion point it forces you to sit through another minute of unskippable ads that just ended five seconds ago. Anyway, some thoughts:

The biggest question I had from the series reveal was whether it's going to be one of those works that could generate endless discussions of "Is this a BL?" And so far it sure looks like one of those works. This first episode is the sliciest a slice-of-life teen drama could conceivably be. Or maybe it just feels that way because it's so different, due to the fact that...

The entire series being shot on iPhone (though they just say "phone" because Apple isn't paying them) gives the whole thing such an indie guerrilla film vibe, which is interesting to say the least. The unrestrained depth of field, the sound design picking up on every little jingling of the charms and chains the boys have on their bags, result in this raw, artsy feel that is almost jarring compared to conventional production values.

The open environment alone sounds like a continuity nightmare, though not having paid much attention to the people and cars in the background, I didn't noticed anything egregious.

The opening toilet shot was... a choice.

The song Fourmod's mother plays in the beginning is เด็กมีปัญหา (Dek Mi Panha) by, of course, Four-Mod. It's one of the biggest early hits from the Kamikaze teen-oriented record label. Faye Fang Kaew is another of the label's first groups. You can tell their mother is a huge fan. (By the way, the iQiyi subtitles spelling Fourmod's name after his Instagram handle is really annoying. Hope they drop it soon.)

Fourmod said "this term" when asking to take the BTS, so it's probably the start of the second semester, i.e. November. Senanikhom Station opened in December 2019, while the entire northern extension opened in December 2020. Either Fourmod was referring to starting his P.6 and M.1 years after the station and line opened respectively, or the series is set in 2023.

I laughed at how they needed a disclaimer warning not to run up the escalators and to hold the handrail - clearly mandated by BTS the series sponsor. If you're wondering about the sponsorship, by the way, it probably just involved them making special arrangements for location access and not any cash - this was the case for the 2009 movie Bangkok Traffic (Love) Story, which revolved almost entirely around the BTS. Here, the lack of crowds during the morning rush hour points to most of the people probably being hired extras.

The BTS got plenty of indirect advertising in exchange, of course. Fourmod buying the monthly pass seemed almost forced at first, but was soon leveraged to explain why he didn't know how to tap out of the system, since he'd presumably only used single tickets before. (Like Thoughts said, the attention to detail is incredible, with things like these that you have to zoom in to even notice.)

The depictions of locations are so super specific to reality, almost as if this were a documentary. The school is fictional, of course, but it's slotted into the exact location of Watpathumwanaram School in real life, and everything around it, including the path of the students' commute, is real. Don't know why they'd take a tuk-tuk instead of walking 400 metres to Siam Square, though, as the traffic is totally impossible.

I have no idea how much creative liberty they're taking with the school's flexibility with body accessories, electronics, and transgender students. I'm sure the creators based it on what's possible at some actual schools nowadays, but I can't tell how realistic it is for the setting at all. Very much appreciate the variability in the lengths of the students' shorts as a reflection of their personality, though, as it's rarely seen on screen anymore.

I raised an eyebrow at Fourmod asking for extra MSG in his fruit dip. (The subtitles mistranslate it as "chili salt".) Didn't even know it was a thing - usually it's just sugar, salt, and chilli - but apparently recipes that also add MSG aren't uncommon.

I'm about curious about the passage of time. Their painted nails almost growing out suggests probably two months passing during each of the time jumps, but that would be almost the entire school term already.

It's funny to imagine how they got Yuedpao as a main sponsor. Their shop is actually opposite Kantima Salon, one wonders whether it's a coincidence or they found the location first, then got the sponsorship later.

The Kluay Kluay banana dessert shop was clearly included to keep older viewers connected - it's probably the only Siam Square location in the entire episode that's recognizable to someone who knew the place from the 2000s. Heck, the neighbourhood has changed so much recently, few of the scene locations would have looked like shown even five years ago.

Which brings me to my final point and main impression from the episode: Everything in it feels so deliberate in its depiction of today's youth culture. Which is of course what the creators set out to do. But the thing is, I (and probably most Millennial and older viewers) can't quite tell how accurate it is. I trust that the team did their research well, and on the whole it feels real enough, but the script's particular references, slang and vernacular might as well be a foreign language. It feels rather eerily uncanny how changed some things have become in the space of a generation, and yet how familiar some things remain.

[avoliot]

Querying

I got an ask on querying, which I answered privately as it had personal details in it, but thought the info might be useful more widely. As I didn't officially query I have crowdsourced some tips from my agented friends who did (ed: the group chat would like me to say i have 'consulted the sages') so here is the collected wisdom, which I have sorted into categories.

Please note that this is largely based on querying US agents.

Before you start:

Prepare yourself emotionally for rejection. if at all possible, write another book. Really common not to get rep for your first novel and really common for the book you got signed for not to sell. Honestly a lot of the confusion around querying is like, this is not about getting a good mark in writing a book. This is starting a career.

Don't jump the gun - make sure you've polished your book as much as possible yourself, sought feedback from beta readers and critique partners etc.

Finding agents:

Use manuscript wishlist, query tracker etc to build a list of agents, research their sales history in your genre.

If you can: spring for a publishers marketplace membership for at least a month (it's $25 and you can cancel any time). That way you can see who is selling comparative titles and whether they are selling to reputable publishers.

Don't query anyone you're not actually prepared to sign with. No agent is better than a bad agent.

Query letter:

Make sure you actually understand your genre, are reading recent releases, and know where your book would sit on the shelf, the number of people trying to query 200k game of thrones clones and getting nowhere because the industry moved on from there two decades ago is shockingly high.

Have a really solid idea of what the marketable hook for the book is. Which doesn't have to be what you personally like about it or what makes it good.

Use resources to both read a lot of query letters and, if you like, get yours critiqued. QueryShark archives are free and incredibly helpful. r/pubtips is, despite being reddit, a pretty good place to get specific feedback on your query

Pubtips also has wiki resources on query letter structure, vetting agents etc.

More details:

Even if you've got a series ready to go, you'll probably get further querying it as a standalone with series potential, 'this is the first in a seven part series and I love my characters so much and blahblah' isn't as appealing as you'd think.

Don't editorialise and praise your own manuscript, let people decide for themselves whether it's sensitive/gripping/lyrical.

This is a business letter, you don't need to be SUPER formal, but also be polite and professional and don't get overly familiar.

Referring to other authors the agent reps and how you see your work fitting in with that list also can be effective, but on the whole, personalisation is only necessary if there's something you really want to say to that particular agent. "I'm querying you with my fantasy book because you rep fantasy" can just be left out.

Don't comp the absolute no. 1 bestseller in your genre, comping Sanderson for your fantasy book (or, even worse, Tolkein) will make you look wildly out of touch.

Misc:

be prepared to wait a billion years for a response, it is a shitshow right now

also if you don't know anyone in publishing that's normal but if ur serious about writing professionally please god make friends with some writers at the same career stage. not a query tip but truly essential for ur sanity

[humanelemental]

Different anon, but yes to everything you've said! I'm still so disappointed we got absolutely nothing in the flashback. Like not confirming Rio as the other parent and not getting to at least see the happier times between them (this could have easily been a quick montage). I think this is where 95% of my issues with the Agathario storyline fall. Without Kathryn and Aubrey's incredible chemistry, this pairing would have fallen completely flat. And no comment on Billy lol Such a bland character.

This got away from me so I’m tucking it under the cut.

Yes! That’s why Jac saying all of this post show high key pisses me off! Because from where were we supposed to draw these conclusions that she supposedly wanted to be very obvious. Surely it wasn’t the script. Surely it wasn’t the cut content. Surely it wasn’t how the character’s are written with each other.

For God’s sake, Agatha says Rio’s name one time and it’s not even to her. I was starting to wonder if she even knew her by that name. There’s no terms of endearment, not even angry name calling. She never addresses her at all. And to me that’s such a frustrating detail! Like this is your ex wife? Agatha has a pet name for everyone, good or ill. But nothing for Rio?

Like we had that scene in episode four, which to this day will go down as the most longing I’ve ever scene. And not even a whisper of baby? Sweetheart? Honey? Like Agatha was locked in and fucking cradling the mother of her child and nothing? Same with episode 8. Rio pushes Agatha to the point that after their meeting she crashes out on the road and we don’t even get a “thats enough Rio!” They’re talking about Rio taking their dead son’s soul and we get no reference to this not just being an ex or a former friend but her fucking wife??? Not even a, “you killed our SON!!!” Which wouldn’t have been accurate but it would have fit with what is clearly Agatha’s narrative.

Also also, if we’re crashing out anyway and I’m telling the love of my very long life that she only brings me pain and I never want to see her again? I’m absolutely throwing it in her face that she left me with our son’s cold dead corpse to bury alone with my bare hands in the fucking woods. And, I hate to say it, I think Agatha might be pettier than me. So there’s no way she’s letting that shit go. You cannot convince me that this show wasn’t just being written off the cuff. There are too many moments that just fall flat in really weird ways for this to have been the vision from the beginning.

Also^3 what the fuck was with them giving us no information about the Darkhold, how Agatha got it for real, when she got it, why ect. I mean we can assume, God I’m tired of that, that she was trying to bring Nicky back based on how she acted with Wanda. But beyond that, we have no information on this very pivotal part of her history. And it kept getting brought up, so I hoped we would see something on it.

I completely agree that Kathryn and Aubrey, and the other talented actors and actresses, carried this show in spite of the script. So much of both of their characters come from their physical acting it’s insane. Like can you imagine how bland Rio would be if it wasn’t Aubrey’s adorably unhinged self playing her? Girl said she was eating flowers on set. Like ma’am that’s in zero shots of the final show. She was just out there literally chewing on the scenery. And Kathryn can say more with an expression than most soliloquies. Plus she so consistent with how she physically plays Agatha it’s nuts. Like yes on set for AAA is understandable, but she brought the same mannerisms from WV. Like the finger thing she always does. It’s so crazy impressive.

As a final note, I really liked teen when he was a kind of goofy/sarcastic sidekick that kind of gave off the same vaguely unhinged vibes that Agatha and Rio give. Like the parts where he’s helping blackmail Jen only to turn around an hour later and offer her stale party favors? Peak Teen for me. Also I want to clarify I mean no hate whatsoever to Joe Locke. He’s brilliant and has a wonderful future as an actor ahead of him. I just hated that we lost half the show to him.

[youreaclownnow]

💜❤️ in Maine

[bubervitch]

people thinking luigi was a communist as if Lenin didn’t specifically warn us against individual terrorism and detail like a whole chapter at least on why it’s ineffective and why and how it makes organizing a million times more difficult. it fast-tracks the impending illegality of communist organizing to a ridiculous degree. there is a reason the Narodniks failed, individual terrorism one point among them

[xxplastic-cubexx]

OG Charles-Cat anon: Reason for my naming is because;

A. Hysterical that the cat is basically named after Charles BUUUUT she TECHICALLY isn't- *flutters his psychic eyelashes*

And B. Erik is so fucked for names. Can't use Charlie, can't use Charles. Nope. Has to look at this oversized naked molerat and use-

Charlotte Erika Xavier Lehnsherr~

speaking in cursive gotta be DIABOLICAL 😭😭

[toxifoxx]

truly at the end of the day its all about receiving validation

[juney-blues]

99% of conversations on anarchism about here are hampered by people having no clue what anarchists are talking about when they refer to "the state", including, it seems, the anarchists themselves.

[theflyingfeeling]

yes it's just me whining about the same thing for the billionth time, pls just scroll past nothing new to see here 👋

[bananonbinary]

its wild to me when people debate how problematic a show is with this or that odd implication, when im out here watching corny scifi comedy eureka, which is bald-faced eugenics. sometimes a thing can be enjoyable and have loveable characters and fun family friendly plots and also be deeply deeply offensive.

[liquidstar]

As I'm writing little practice excerpts for my oc projects I realize that before I can even think of making anything truly cohesive I need to properly plan out a timeline. One exists in my head of course but I need to iron out the creases. Does anyone know any good websites for making timelines like this?

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

so i googled my current favourite play that i'm absolutely obsessed with and ended up on the english wikipedia site bc my browser is set to english and. it's so bad. the fucking plot overview leaves out basically everything that happens ever except for the end result. several key figures aren't even mentioned. "this guy dies for freedom" well, yes, but actually no, plus you're implying his sacrifice is actually worth it. that's not true. in some other section a dude is mentioned who claims this play is basically star wars. that someone familiar with the play but not star wars could look at a star wars poster and tell you which characters are narratively similar/equal to characters of the play. i am baffled. i have never, not once in my life, ever seen someone be so wrong. dude must have read an entirely different play. i'm tempted to dig up the english version and read it just to see how fucking wrong he is. he is *so* incredibly wrong. jesus fuck. how could you possibly say that

[todayisafridaynight]

SO! I've wanted to talk about The Clip all day but felt like I should wait until the tumblr "premiere" (even though I think you were literally one of the first people to see it on Twitter lol). Thank you for defending my honor btw even if I am just Someone <3

But. Yes. Yeah. Yokoyama's absolute certainty in saying that??? Without anything to even buffer it? No maybe. No "don't expect too much." Just point-blank in front of a huge fan (whom I believe he's now going to be working with), a staff member, and a massive audience. As if that part isn't the matter of contention. I WILL be injecting those words directly into my veins for some time.

I was on the verge of choking and/or spewing blood and/or crying before posting it though lol, so I really appreciate the vote of confidence regarding the translation and I love your redraw! The reception as a whole has been really nice, although I wish people would keep it to themselves if they'd rather have Nishiki or Ryuji back or whatever. Not like it's a race, but even if it was, Mine's been in last place for ages lol.

And while I enjoy Y3's writing more than most, Mine's death wasn't some Grand Meaningful Statement, it was the decision of a fledgling studio that never knew if it would be able to keep making these games trying to tell a self-contained story. It did have far-reaching consequences for the series, but those consequences are also... not really relevant anymore?

Like, I can and have argued that Mine's death caused the fall of the Tojo Clan, but the clan has already fallen. So I don't see why some people are acting like revisiting his character would be A Spit In The Face to the saga somehow, but I guess I've never really been against characters being brought back...? A quote from the staff that's always stuck with me from the staff is that RGG is always going for RGG-ism, not realism.

Ranting aside... I honestly don't know if I should be saying this, but there's this new guy working the counter at Survive in some LaD8 behind the scenes footage. Now, upfront, I'm 99.8% sure it's not Mine (I happen to have a 100% accuracy rate so far identifying major RGG characters from extremely blurry images and silhouettes lmao), and I have no idea who it is, whether it's a new character or an old one heavily redesigned or Just Some Guy.

But he's not Kashiwagi. And he happens to have slicked-back dark brown hair with what appears to be an ahoge in some angles. And, unless the materials are temporary, he also dresses A Lot Like the celebrity Mine's design was based on. And his features... line up closely enough to piss me off, even though they don't fully match in the end, which is why I don't think it's him.

I'm in argumentative essay mode 100% of the time which is why I'm saying this in a "convincing" tone despite literally not believing it myself, but like... wouldn't that be something? To just have Mine part-timing at Survive or whatever and no one makes a big deal of it because they don't know any better? If nothing else, I really do think he should get The Bartender Treatment.

I dunno, I might post about it with a comparison tomorrow because it's been on my mind lately, especially with The News, but I really don't want people to get the wrong idea either. Or embarrass myself if it was too tenuous of a link to look that deeply into from the start lol

I remember seeing it two minutes after you posted it, so I can imagine I was one of the first to the scene of the crime (so my friends put it LMAO). AND OF COURSE I- and a lot of us- can't be any more grateful for all the work you do than we already are. I'd go insane trying to document and manage everything you do! especially when you have insane people like me ready to pounce on the smallest thing like I know I'd cry FJLKAJ The least I can do is give a proper title/credit to you when I can o7

If Yokoyama had any remaining hesitance about Mine being alive, then he REALLY would have fumbled by sounding so certain. Like in his old tweet, he certainly sounded more ambiguous, but this time he really had no extra notes and sounded more sure of himself. I won't expect RGG to do anything with Mine, but the concept is still very much exciting and the idea that Yokoyama almost seems earnest about the idea of bringing Mine back for whatever reason is very nice to know :] And thank you about enjoying the art I did! I can't lie in the slightest, since the last ask where you alluded to posting the clip, I had that drawing saved in the back of my head ready to make once you had that posted LMAO

But oohh not to touch drama since I generally try to Not touch it, but yeah I can't act like I haven't seen some people be. ""Interesting"" about the idea of Mine being alive. I won't dive too deep into it, but I think my major issue with the few grievances I've seen is that RGG hasn't done anything with Mine's alive status. As of right now, it's just a thing Yokoyama said, so I don't understand the need to be so angry about it (it's especially weird to say Ryuji hasn't been back when he not only got to be a playable protagonist in Dead Souls, but he was also the protagonist of RGGO- though I suppose I can understand wanting him in the mainline series again. Still, it's weird to act as though Mine's back any more than he is and being upset about it just because Yokoyama said he was alive)...

Moving on though, I'm really curious as to this 'mystery figure' you mean. I've been missing out on LaD8 production material, so I haven't seen this bit myself but I'd love to take a stab at it and analyze myself too. I agree though: if Mine does come back- whether he's working at Survive or anywhere else- I would greatly prefer if he had The Bartender status and was just never really called attention to and only existed in the background

[boreal-sea]

Look.

I have made you a chart. A very simple chart.

People say "You have to draw the line somewhere, and Biden has crossed it-" and my response is "Trump has crossed way more lines than Biden".

These categories are based off of actual policy enacted by both of these men while they were in office.

If the ONLY LINE YOU CARE ABOUT is line 12, you have an incredible amount of privilege, AND YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT PALESTINIANS. You obviously have nothing to fear from a Trump presidency, and you do not give a fuck if a ceasefire actually occurs. You are obviously fine if your queer, disabled, and marginalized loved ones are hurt. You clearly don't care about the status of American democracy, which Trump has openly stated he plans to destroy on day 1 he is in office.

EDIT:

Ok fine, I spent 3 hours compiling sources for all of these, you can find that below the cut.

I'll give at least one link per subject area. There are of course many more sources to be read on these subject areas and no post could possibly give someone a full education on these subjects.

Biden and trans rights: https://www.hrc.org/resources/president-bidens-pro-lgbtq-timeline

Trump and trans rights: https://www.aclu.org/news/lgbtq-rights/trump-on-lgbtq-rights-rolling-back-protections-and-criminalizing-gender-nonconformity

The two sources above show how Biden has done a lot of work to promote trans rights, and how Trump did a lot of work to hurt trans rights.

Biden on abortion access: https://www.cnn.com/2022/07/08/politics/what-is-in-biden-abortion-executive-order/index.html

Trump on abortion access: https://apnews.com/article/abortion-trump-republican-presidential-election-2024-585faf025a1416d13d2fbc23da8d8637

Biden openly supports access to abortion and has taken steps to protect those rights at a federal level even after Roe v Wade was overturned. Trump, on the other hand, was the man who appointed the judges who helped overturn Roe v Wade and he openly brags about how proud he is of that decision. He also states that he believes individual states should have the final say in whether or not abortion is legal, and that he trusts them to "do the right thing", meaning he supports stronger abortion bans.

Biden on environmental reform: https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2021/10/07/fact-sheet-president-biden-restores-protections-for-three-national-monuments-and-renews-american-leadership-to-steward-lands-waters-and-cultural-resources/

Trump on environmental reform: https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/climate/trump-environment-rollbacks-list.html

Biden has made major steps forward for environmental reform. He has restored protections that Trump rolled back. He has enacted many executive orders and more to promote environmental protections, including rejoining the Paris Accords, which Trump withdrew the USA from. Trump is also well known for spreading conspiracy theories and lies about global climate change, calling it a "Chinese hoax".

Biden on healthcare and prescription reform: https://www.hhs.gov/about/news/2023/06/09/biden-administration-announces-savings-43-prescription-drugs-part-cost-saving-measures-president-bidens-inflation-reduction-act.html

Trump on healthcare reform: https://www.cnn.com/2024/01/07/politics/obamacare-health-insurance-ending-trump/index.html

I'm rolling healthcare and prescriptions and vaccines and public health all into one category here since they are related. Biden has lowered drug costs, expanded access to medicaid, and ACA enrollment has risen during his presidency. He has also made it so medical debt no longer applies to a person's credit score. He signed many executive orders during his first few weeks in office in order to get a handle on Trump's grievous mishandling of the COVID pandemic. Trump also wants to end the ACA. Trump is well known for refusing to wear a mask during the pandemic, encouraging the use of hydroxylchloroquine to "treat" COVID, and being openly anti-vaxx.

Biden on student loan forgiveness: https://www.ed.gov/news/press-releases/biden-harris-administration-announces-additional-77-billion-approved-student-debt-relief-160000-borrowers

Trump on student loan forgiveness: https://www.forbes.com/sites/adamminsky/2024/06/20/trump-knocks-bidens-vile-student-loan-forgiveness-plans-suggests-reversal/

Trump wants to reverse the student loan forgiveness plans Biden has enacted. Biden has already forgiven billions of dollars in loans and continues to work towards forgiving more.

Infrastructure funding:

I'm putting these links next together because they are all about infrastructure.

In general, Trump's "achievements" for infrastructure were to destroy environmental protections to speed up projects. Many of his plans were ineffective due to the fact that he did not clearly outline where the money was going to come from, and he was unwilling to raise taxes to pay for the projects. He was unable (and unwilling) to pass a bipartisan infrastructure bill during his 4 years in office. He did sign a few disaster relief bills. He did not enthusiastically promote renewable energy infrastructure. He created "Infrastructure Weeks" that the federal government then failed to fund. Trump did not do nothing for infrastructure, but his no-tax stance and his dislike for renewable energy means the contributions he made to American infrastructure were not as much as he claimed they were, nor as much as they could have been. Basically, he made a lot of promises, and delivered on very few of them. He is not "against" infrastructure, but he's certainly against funding it.

Biden was able to pass that bipartisan bill after taking office. The Bipartisan Infrastructure Plan that Trump tried to prevent from passing during Biden's term contains concrete funding sources and step by step plans to rebuild America's infrastructure. If you want to read the plan, you can find it here: https://www.whitehouse.gov/build/guidebook/. Biden has done far more for American infrastructure than Trump did, most notably by actually getting the bipartisan bill through congress.

Biden on Racial Equity: https://www.npr.org/sections/president-biden-takes-office/2021/01/26/960725707/biden-aims-to-advance-racial-equity-with-executive-actions

Trump on Racial Equity: https://www.axios.com/2024/04/01/trump-reverse-racism-civil-rights https://www.bbc.com/news/av/world-us-canada-37230916

Trump's racist policies are loud and clear for everyone to hear. We all heard him call Mexicans "Drug dealers, criminals, rapists". We all watched as he enacted travel bans on people from majority-Muslim nations. Biden, on the other hand, has done quite a lot during his term to attempt to reconcile racism in this country, including reversing Trump's "Muslim ban" the first day he was in office.

Biden on DEI: https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/presidential-actions/2021/06/25/executive-order-on-diversity-equity-inclusion-and-accessibility-in-the-federal-workforce/

Trump on DEI: https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/politics/trump-tried-to-crush-the-dei-revolution-heres-how-he-might-finish-the-job/ar-BB1jg3gz

Biden supports DEI and has signed executive orders and passed laws that support DEI on the federal level. Trump absolutely hates DEI and wants to eradicate it.

Biden on criminal justice reform: https://time.com/6155084/biden-criminal-justice-reform/

Trump on criminal justice reform: https://www.vox.com/2020-presidential-election/21418911/donald-trump-crime-criminal-justice-policy-record https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2024/05/trumps-extreme-plans-crime/678502/

From pardons for non-violent marijuana convictions to reducing the federal government's reliance on private prisons, Biden has done a lot in four years to reform our criminal justice system on the federal level. Meanwhile, Trump has described himself as "tough on crime". He advocates for more policing, including "stop and frisk" activities. Ironically it's actually quite difficult to find sources about what Trump thinks about crime, because almost all of the search results are about his own crimes.

Biden on military support for Israel: https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/national-security/biden-obama-divide-closely-support-israel-rcna127107

Trump on military support for Israel: https://www.vox.com/politics/353037/trump-gaza-israel-protests-biden-election-2024

Biden supports Israel financially and militarily and promotes holding Israel close. So did Trump. Trump was also very pro-Israel during his time in office and even moved the embassy to Jerusalem and declared Jerusalem the capitol of Israel, a move that inflamed attitudes in the region.

Biden on a ceasefire: https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/world/2024/06/05/gaza-israel-hamas-cease-fire-plan-biden/73967659007/

Trump on a ceasefire: https://www.nbcnews.com/politics/donald-trump/trump-israel-gaza-finish-problem-rcna141905

Trump has tried to be quiet on the issue but recently said he wants Israel to "finish the problem". He of course claims he could have prevented the whole problem. Trump also openly stated after Oct 7th that he would bar immigrants who support Hamas from the country and send in officers to American protests to arrest anyone supporting Hamas.

Biden meanwhile has been quietly urging Netanyahu to accept a ceasefire deal for months, including the most recent announcement earlier in June, though it seems as though that deal has finally fallen through as well.