#it's the whole reason I had to make this blog to get this sort of stuff off my chest (even if it's just for me sometimes)—

[digitald0rk]

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* NERD ALERT ! [ 1 ]

pairing — mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis — in which mark falls for the new comic book store employee who matches his nerd [ and he hopes his freak too :3 ] and realizes he wants that effing cookie SO BADD.

warnings — super duper self indulgent! mark being mark, mention of blood like once. sappiness overload RAHHHH. not proofread.

w.c — 2.1 k.

a/n — this is part 1 btw, the second part's gonna be focused y'all's relationship. this is SO SO SLEF INDULGENT LMAO. i am that annoying little fly that keeps buzzing when it comes to my interests, my ass keeps going, "holy shit is that xyz reference???" :0 like GIRL STOP PULLING THESE REFERENCES OUT YO ASS 🤓 if you're like this too just know i think you're super based and awesomesauce gang :D BE ANNOYING ABOUT YOUR INTERESTS!! it's honestly so refreshing, anyways :p lemme know what you think of this!

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog [ lemme know if you wanna be added too ]

READ PART [ 2 ] HERE.

it was another normal ordinary day, he was just binging the new volumes of seance dog in his favorite little comic book store because being a superhero leaves no time for that, thank god he has some time off.

it was another normal ordinary day, that is until you walked in.

well more like look insanely good behind that cash register.

he asks himself, mind racing a mile a minute, how has he never noticed you before? are you a new employee? why the hell is his heart beating so fast? are you single?

the moment he sees you smile at some customer, he's doomed.

he has to talk to you. he has to-

oh god wait. he's been staring, hasn't he? no no no! what if you think he's some loser or worse a creep. [a weirdo what the hell am i doing hereeeee sorry had to lol]

and when your gazes meet for a split second, he whips his head away way too fast, if he wasn't a viltrumite he definitely would've gotten whiplash, his eyes immediately zeroing on the comic in his hand, which is actually upside down. not that he realizes because he's too busy thinking about how he'd love to get lost in your pretty eyes, he needs to get a grip, what is he fourteen?

it's just some dumb fleeting infatuation and-

then he hears a laugh. peeking up from the still upside down seance dog volume, hoping to god it's not your laugh because if it is, he longs to hear it again.

it was your laugh. oh he's in deep.

and he swears he's never heard a more beautiful thing. sap.

he needs to be the reason to make you laugh.

oh shit he's holding it upside down, hopefully you didn't notice (*_*;)

it takes him a whole ass week to muster up the courage to talk to you, he'd only check out with his new additions and issues when it wasn't your shift.

he's checked himself in the mirror a gazillion times, his hair looks okay, maybe he should've worn the blue shirt, it makes his eyes pop out-

he's mark grayson, he's invincible for fuck's sake.

still his palms grow sweaty as he approaches you to check out, little do you know he already has these volumes, he's just desperate to talk to you okay.

"hi." and great, his voice cracks.

but your sweet smile makes him forget about it. he watches you as you scan his items, typing away as you do so.

he kind of wants to hold your hand. is that bad?

"so, seance dog huh?" oh shit you're making conversation with him? oh my god calm down calm down calm down-

"yeah, it's uh one of my favs." he flashes a small smile, a nervous one.

"no way! same!" you beam at him, sheepishly showing him the small seance dog hair clip holding your hair in place like it's some sort of national treasure.

you're telling him that you, the cute comic book store employee he's been crushing on for weeks now, likes seance dog?

he's dreaming.

he has to be.

right?

then you say something, something only a huge seance dog fan would know.

and he swears he hears wedding bells, he can already see walking down the aisle.

it takes him a ridiculously long time to recover, eyes widening comically as he processes that this is infact not a dream.

"you okay there?" you ask slightly amused.

your voice breaks him out of that little trance you just unknowingly put him in, his eyes flitting to the name tag on your shirt-

he can't help himself from muttering your name, soft and reverent like a prayer.

a little flustered giggle leaves your mouth.

oh.

oh.

he made you laugh? he feels like he's on top of the world, he introduces himself, his smile widening when he shakes your offered hand.

william's gonna have a field day with this one.

after that one conversation, he's grown comfortable around you over the past few weeks.

and he's fallen even deeper in love.

he's less tense and awkward around you, rambling about everything and anything, conversation flows easily between you two now.

you'd call him the second you'd read the new volumes of your shared favorite comics to talk to him about it, he does the same.

he puts you on his favorite comics, you put him on yours along with whatever you're big into. it's a win-win really.

he's never been happier.

you make him feel so seen.

he doesn't feel the need to hide parts of himself from you. he loves when you buy him matching merch or just little trinkets of his interests.

rex made fun of mark's little italian charm bracelet once, because what do you mean the strongest man on the planet has a matching charm bracelet with all the things he loves on it that he always wears?

it actually broke the first time he wore it to a fight because obviously, what was he thinking? gets very sad when he can't find all the pieces to put it back together, asks cecil to remake it with some metal that won't break from the impact of alien attacks or whatever decides to mess with the peace of earth the next time. he gets all pissy when he gets blood on it :(

"aw that's adorable!" rex would tease him, but mark would just get all excited because he gets to talk about you <3

cue him rambling about all the things you made for him or got for him that align with his favorite pieces of media and interests, rex does NOT understand half of those words but hey as long as invinciboy's happy.

rex is not making that mistake again lol, also he thought you were dating mark because of the way his eyes turn into literal hearts whenever you're mentioned, so imagine the look on his face when mark's all bashful like, "nah i wish :(" rex goes, "man you two are so fucking oblivious." and he's right.

even outside of your little nerdy conversations and hang outs, when he comes to you for comfort, he feels safe.

and that — feeling safe, not being on edge 24/7 isn't easy for him, but you make it easier than breathing.

he feels loved when you hold him, rub his back and make some dumb joke when he's having a bad day.

he lives for the references you make out of nowhere.

"holy shit is that-" you start excitedly.

"i was just gonna say that!" he laughs.

pointing out things that he thinks are references to his favorite media and you joining him, this has to be love.

"why does that cloud lowkey look lik-" he starts and you finish his sentence for him, he laughs at how you two are almost always on the same wavelength.

once the secret is out that he's invincible, he'll literally just fly to some foreign country to get you what you want, oh what's that? a new figurine of your favorite anime just dropped? it's only available in japan? it's already yours <3 anything for you, he's whipped. [ god bless his bank account i imagine it's in negative LMAOOOO because his ass is definitely not letting u pay :( ]

and when you oh so sheepishly hand him the seance dog plushie you crocheted for him as his birthday present, muttering something along the lines of how "it's not good enough" or "it looks a little funny", i mean yeah seance dog has seen better days for sure where his eyes are the same size, he has to physically stop himself from kissing you senseless, because how dare you be this thoughtful and sweet.

yeah he's in love alright.

after a lot of restless nights and convincing from william, he finally decides to ask you out after six months of longing and yearning.

you two are currently in your room, hanging out. you had invited him over to watch the new reboot of your favorite sci fi series, although the internet seems to have a different plan as the video keeps buffering and loading.

you groan in annoyance, refreshing the page, still nothing.

so when you give up and let it do it's thing, aka the good ol "pretending not to care so it'll load faster", mark takes this as a sign.

"hey uh-" he opens his mouth, he's going to piss himself, he can't do this.

"yeah?" you reply. he sounds awfully nervous.

he stares at you, holding your gaze, lips slightly parted before taking a deep breath.

he ends up immediately blurting out the words he'd practiced a thousand times, "iloveyousomuch", his words are hurried as if he's scared you'll leave him if he's not quick enough.

he pauses, realizing this isn't exactly going to plan. he has just confessed his feelings, it's done now. there's no going back from this and that scares him.

he's also considering just making a run for it, or well fly for it, your window's open afterall.

he avoids your gaze like the plague, the ground suddenly very interesting.

he hesitantly adds, "i have for awhile now actually", might as well serve his heart on a silver platter to you it's all yours anyways, it beats for you, he thinks.

his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. he can't stop his mouth, it moves on it's own, "im sorry if- if this ruins our friendship i just-"

"i love you too mark", you can't help yourself from confessing back, feeling your cheeks heat up.

"i just can't do this, i can't be friends when everytime i look at you i want to ki-" wait.

it's actually adorable the way he looks at you all wide eyed when his brain finally processes what you said.

did you just say you love him back?

nope, that's just his terrible hearing that comes with being a superhero, all wishful thinking.

but the way you're looking at him tells him otherwise and your words only confirm that his hearing is perfectly fine.

"you were saying?" you tease him, daring him to finish that sentence.

thank god the teasing is back, this is familiar territory. his nerves calm down a bit.

a minute of silence passes before he speaks.

"so that just happened", he chuckles, he wants to be all suave and cool and say something that'll make you blush, but he can't.

he doesn't need to.

because that's not him, he's mark grayson, he's awkward, a sweetheart and a big nerd. he just needs to be himself to make you swoon.

you know this, he knows this.

he knows you accept him for who he is, so he doesn't think twice about leaning in when you reach out to cup his face, leaning in as well.

your acceptance, your love, you. that's all he needs.

and the moment your lips meet his he realizes those six months were worth it.

he gently pulls you closer by your waist, his touch hesitant, it takes all his power to not just pull you flush against him and show you just how much he adores you.

when you pull him closer by the neck, his toned chest brushing against yours, he has to stop from letting out a small pleased groan.

you're just as desperate as he is.

kissing you like this is dizzying, he can even taste the sweetness and slight tang of the strawberry dessert you two had shared earlier on your lips and it only serves to drive him crazier.

his body practically aches when you pull away, chasing your lips. he can't get enough.

"easy alien boy", you chuckle, trying to catch your breath — resting your forehead against his, nose scrunching a little when he kisses the tip of it, nuzzling his own nose against yours afterwards.

his smile is sickeningly sweet and contagious. "i love you", he whispers.

and when you whisper it back he giggles happily, pressing a kiss to your head - he pulls you in his warm embrace. relishing in the feel of your body against his, fitting like a missing puzzle piece.

it's like you were made for him.

a scream from the tv ruins the intimate atmosphere, ah so now it decides to load. you two stare at each other, a collective look of "are you seeing this shit" is exchanged before you two burst into laughter.

both of you could care less about the show playing on the tv, too busy indulging in long passionate sweet kisses.

"the new issue of batm-" you jokingly start against his now swollen lips.

"baby! we're kinda having a moment here", he scoffs playfully, the dumb lovesick smile on his face only widening.

"no but seriously the new issue sucked ass. they mischaracterized him sooo bad and-", he complains, not moving a centimeter away from your lips.

"and you're a nerd" you cut him off, pulling him close by the collar of his shirt for another kiss.

"hey that's friendly fire!" he hopes you'll always shut him up with a kiss <3

© digitald0rk 2025. do not steal any of my works :[ thank you for reading, interactions are always appreciated and welcome! want more? click here ★

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

This may be a silly question… but I’m an artist trying to learn backgrounds. I’ve studied perspective until my hands fell off, but I don’t know how to choose an angle or not make things look wonky. I’ve tried asking a lot of artists, but I’m hoping to hear more than “just draw backgrounds”, because I have been, but I’m not improving.

Do you have any tips on how to practice?

The anonymous ask is much more recent but it reminded me of another ask from @cerealssoggies i forgot to answer thats, OOF... gotten old. Sorry about that. I'll answer your ask more directly at the end of this.

I'll talk about the perspective ask first. Anon... I'll answer your question as best as I can!

I think what makes perspective tricky is the beginning, when you're using perspective lines and grids and such to map out the picture. Because the actual technique of 2 point perspective isn't hard or complicated, it's getting the scene to look the way it does in your head thats tricky. I'm talking about the metaphorical "camera" location, angle, and... idk, focal length? If I'm using that phrase correctly.

So you can draw something like a simple square bedroom, and by the time you're done placing your horizon line, vanishing point, and perspective lines, and actually start drawing, you realize it doesn't look like how it does in your head. And from there, it's hard or nearly impossible to move things around to look like your vision, so you'll be tweaking each thing individually: uhh, let's move the horizon line down, the left vanishing point further? The right one closer? Both further? Huh??? And it's frustrating.

I've found, if you're drawing an environment from your imagination, the best way to start is to draw an teeeeny tiny thumbnail sketch. The smaller the better. Not just environments, but any drawing idea is easier to map out when it's smaller. Your brain can latch onto the visual as a whole when it's all tiny on a piece of paper.

Drawing my current blog header, the one of ford's research tent, I had a similar pickle. I knew exactly where I wanted the camera to be, in the corner of the tent, and I knew I wanted the camera to be more wide, so you could see most of his tent while keeping the feeling that it's small. I started digitally with perspective lines and quickly got frustrated. SO - I took to my sketchbook and thought reeeeeally hard about what it looked like in my head, and tried mapping it out in a tiny tiny thumbnail. Here's what that looked like:

This was closer to what I wanted than what I first had on my computer. I knew from there that I wanted the furniture items to be closer together and the camera higher (you can see my scribble writing saying this), so I scanned my thumbnail, and drew on top of it to get closer to the vision. Then, from there, I was able to add a proper perspective grid based on what I had already drawn.

THEN you can finally get down to the fun part - actually populating your room with furniture and details. I put this sketch on paper and did most of the real drawing traditionally:

In summary: instead of jumping straight into perspective theory, thumbnail the idea as rough as you can. Then base the angles of the perspective lines on your thumbnail.

But.... even still, I don't have the strongest ability to picture things mentally, and not everyone is gonna be able to do that (although it is a good muscle to exercise.) Sort of a segue into the second ask - those backgrounds of dibs car? I straight up traced over pictures I took of my car. I'm not the biggest advocate for tracing, it does kind of feel like cheating, BUT for the purposes of this animation? There's no point in getting on a high horse. I needed to draw his car like 10 times and there was no reason to torture myself. I did photoshop some of the photos before I drew over them because the focal length made the car look bigger than I wanted it to? And a lot of it was guessing what the car looked like behind the front seats, etc.

But this does remind me of an exercise I did in school for an illustration mentorship class. The mentor for one unit was a set designer working for Netflix. She was given photos of a room that a scene would be shot in, and she drew the set on top of it: like furniture, decorations, etc. So my assignment was to choose a stock photo, and do some world building concept art based on the photo. From the photo, you can figure out the perspective by identifying lines/angles that theoretically lead to a vanishing point. You need at least two lines, and you extend them really far and see where they cross. Where they meet is a vanishing point. Find two vanishing points and they are level with the horizon line. Then use the perspective dots you just found to draw furniture, items, and you can even get creative and change the shape/height/size of the rooms/buildings/etc, while still using the same perspective.

If an image from the internet feels too much like cheating (it SHOULDN'T, you'll only learn from it and your drawing won't look anything like the image by the time you're done), you can always take your own photos. This technique is honestly what made me enjoy drawing backgrounds in the first place. It made it fun! And drawing should be fun.

I still do this sort of thing today. Here's the reference picture I had my sister take of me for my Fairy godmother illustration. (This is from a couple years ago.) I drew on top of it in photoshop to get my best guess as to the lines and angles. I didn't trace this one, but I did use it very heavily for reference!

So I guess... to summarize both techniques, don't jump right into perspective. Best way to start, that's fun and not wildly frustrating, is to use a photo. If your vision is hyper specific, start from a tiny thumbnail and work your way up. Then the fun part!! Populating the scene with furniture and items and fun little details.

To answer @cerealssoggies question more directly: omg, thank you?? :O💞 I'm always so wowed when people talk about my prints and where they put them. I'm really glad you like the fairy godmother one! My mom also has one hung up in her room lol!

My advice on the design front isn't as specific, because that always felt like the easy part. Once you have the room or whatever mapped out, it's just about drawing all the Stuff. Which for me usually means getting in the head of the character and asking myself what sort of things they'd have around themselves and their environment. And obviously if the setting isn't a characters room/personal environment like the previous three examples, then you'd just have to think about what the environments purpose is, and what sort of stuff would be there. When I'm thinking about a background before I draw it, I'll ask myself what items or features it will have. For the ford tent, I made a list of all the stuff I thought he might have in there (I googled winter camping trip packing lists, as well as science-y tools and gadgets). For dibs car, I asked people on tumblr for suggestions as to what I should put in there.

And look up references! Reference is always a good thing.

In real life, I'm a maximalist and a clutterbug. This bleeds into my drawings - I like it when an environment feels full and lived in.

Here's my bedroom lol.

WELL typing and compiling this took up a greater portion of my Friday but I really hope this was helpful to you and others!!

[palms-upturned]

I’m late to this whole debacle but for the record, I have been messaged by people in Gaza who thought that I was involved in the fundraiser vetting process and sent me photos of their government IDs and documentation. I know a little of what Hussein, Nairuz, Ahmed, Ibtisam, and others use to vet people and make sure that they’re legit, and that’s part of why I confidently cite them as a source. To try and discredit them and smear them as scam artists, along with the genocide victims that they’re trying so hard to help, is fucking beyond the pale.

The reason I’ve been inactive on this blog and focusing instead on compiling resources in order to bring more ppl onto the fundraiser blog is that the work I was doing was spiraling into a 12-hour a day endeavor with just myself, and it was making me so physically and mentally ill that I could barely move or think, so I had to step back and figure out a better way to organize things. And I’m not even doing the actually hard part of this work. I do not vet people. I do not have any skin in this game as a white USAmerican. It’s not my family who are dying in Gaza. I also have not been targeted for harassment or account bans. I literally cannot fucking fathom the physical and mental strain that Palestinian bloggers on this platform have been going through nonstop for nearly a year now.

I still remember being shocked when I saw that Hussein had come back to tumblr after having to take a break due to having a heart attack. Ibtisams, who vetted people and organized all sorts of fundraising efforts all while grieving her father and little sister killed in Gaza, was forced to come back to tumblr to make a statement about how she was in an inpatient facility because people had the gall to impersonate her in order to scam people. Ahmed literally escaped Gaza because of a very well documented fundraising effort here on tumblr, no thanks to the cunts at GoFundMe who made things as difficult as possible every step of the way, and has since spent time and effort helping other people who had hopes of sharing his success. Calling these people scammers is fucking unbelievable. Some of you wouldn’t know solidarity if it bit you in the ass.

If getting messages in your inbox from people trying to escape a genocide makes you uncomfortable, fucking suck it up. Or disable your inbox, I guess. Do literally anything else besides using your platform to direct harassment and slander at people who are trying to survive a genocide. This website is already quite literally engaging in tech apartheid by targeting users in Gaza so constantly, you don’t need to gleefully join in by tagging staff and asking them to terminate people. Fucking unconscionable behavior. I hope that it will follow everyone involved for the rest of their lives.

[hughiecampbelle]

Thunderbolts Preference: Being Plus Size And Insecure

Requested: hai hai!! your blog is feeding my thunderbolts addiction right now and your amazing writing is doing WONDERS. i was wondering if i could request headcannons/preferences of the thunderbolts* with a plus size!reader that doesn’t feel like they’re worthy of being part of the team? if that’s not something you’re comfortable i totally understand!! - anon

A/N: Whoever requested this: ily and I hope your pillow is always cold lol. I love plus size readers bc ya gurl is plus size and we do not get enough love! I'd love more plus size reader requests and 10000% intend to write more romantic plus size reader content bc ik this whole team is in love with bigger bodies :) Thank you for requesting!!!! I hope you like it my love!!!!! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

THUNDERBOLTS REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Bucky tries not to notice the way you attempt to cover yourself when the New Avengers go to press conferences or are caught by paparazzi. You're always ducking behind the others, sticking yourself in the back where the cameras can barely capture you. He hates to think you're doing it intentionally. One night, he finds you in front of newspapers and magazines with nasty headlines about your weight. That's all anyone will talk about and as much as you try to hide your feelings, he knows it's something you give a lot of thought to. You ask him if everyone thinks about your body as much as the press does and he makes it clear how serious he is when he says no. You hate that you're even bringing this up, but it's all anyone cares about when it comes to plus size people. He gently collects all the papers, throwing them out, insisting you're so much more than what your body looks like. You're strong and fast and powerful and one hell of an Avenger. He reminds you the headlines will do anything to smear your name. Bringing up your body isn't just lazy or a low blow, it's dead wrong. You're one of the best on the team and you shouldn't doubt that for a second.

Alexei notices you tweaking your new costume. It's tighter, a lot more revealing than your last one, but Valentina insisted you needed a new look. He hates the look on your face, how uncomfortable you seem when it looks great! You look great! You turn to him, defeated, asking if it looks okay and though he's adamant it does, better than okay, you can't help but hate what you see in the mirror. He insists you sit down next to him where he goes into a long discussion about body image. Do you think he has always been the confident man he is today? You shrug. You just sort of assumed so. Alexei is loud and confident and fearless in everything he does, even if it makes him come off as thoughtless or careless. No, he clarifies, and he tells you about his glory days as Red Guardian where everyone thought he was too big. It used to get to him, of course, but then he had his family and his daughters, his whole world, never saw him being big as bad. They loved him not despite his body, but because of it. Who else could give them a piggy back ride at the same time? What he's trying to say is, people will think and say whatever they want, but it's you who has to live in it. Do you really want to waste time disliking yourself?

Yelena notices how hard you've been working out and training, putting in more hours than anyone else, but she senses it's for the wrong reasons. You've become quieter, more self-conscious, turning down interviews and press conferences, and it hurts her to see this. She's always loved your body. Not just because you're one of the best on the team, but your curves as well. Your suit fits like a glove and she can't help but adore you when you go undercover, dressed to the nines as a means of distraction. People practically fall over themselves trying to get a better look at you. Gently, she brings it up, asking if you're doing all this because you want to be stronger or faster, or because you don't like what you see when you look in the mirror. You admit it's the latter, that you feel like you're not worthy of being on this team because you're plus size. It hurts to hear this. Never once has she doubts your abilities because of the size of your body. She's not angry at you, but on your behalf. You're on this team because you're good at your job and if anyone tells you otherwise, they're not only wrong, they're a liar.

Ava notices everything. She doesn't mean to pry, but she can't ignore all the little things you do, all the signs that show you are insecure about your body and your weight when you shouldn't be at all. She knows people who dislike the team will find anything to pick on. They drag up your past as assassins, they make fun of you for being brainwashed, they love to highlight the mistakes you've all made. Bringing up your body is a low blow, but not only that, it's downright inappropriate. She doesn't want to push the subject, but when you bring it up to her, asking her if she thinks your costume is too tight, too revealing, for someone with your body she's quick to put your fears at ease. You know, out of all of them, Ava is going to be the most straightforward. If she thought your body was something that needed changing or fixing, she would tell you. It hurts her to think of how long you've been thinking this and how evil all those people are that think they can drag your body into a conversation when it's completely unnecessary.

John finds you one day after a one on one meeting with Valentina. All she did was bring up your weight and your size, saying you need to change it, to be smaller, and to do it fast so that you "fit better" on the team. John isn't someone you normally go to with these types of things, but you can't help it. it all comes out, your voice quiet and shameful. He's furious, excusing himself immediately, and you assume he's mad at you for confiding in him. You don't realize it, but he marches into a meeting Valentina is having and puts her in her place. She has no right to say those things to you when 1.) it's not true and 2.) it's downright cruel. He's angry, screaming at her, telling her how much she hurt you, that she will never do it again. Normally fearless, you looked so small, so sad, and it killed him to see. He drags her upstairs where you are, saying if she doesn't apologize, she's going to regret it. They put on a happy face and Valentina "realizes how wrong she was" and apologizes profusely. You're shocked. She's never felt bad about anything hurtful she's done. You wouldn't find out until later, and John never brings it up, but you're immensely grateful for what he did.

Bob never thought that your body would hold you back or make it so that you were any less valuable to the team. You bring it up to him one night, when it's just the two of you, asking him if you think that. He's shocked, speechless, but he does his best to compose his thoughts the best he can. He asks you gently why you would ever think that? You shrug. There are so many reasons why. Not just the tabloids and articles written about your body, but sometimes you think the others are watching you, waiting for you to fail, like they're all expecting it. You've never seen Bob so serious, but he wants to make himself clear: none of them have ever or will ever think that about you. They all love you in their own special ways, especially him. He wouldn't have joined the team if it wasn't for you including him in everything and watching out for him and having so much patience. You're beyond valuable to the team, but even more so as a friend. It hurts him to think you think so little of yourself sometimes.

[paleshroom]

I just saw a blog that had a pinned post and among their descriptors they wrote the following:

Jewish (anti-zionist!)

This is verbatim. Regardless of how you feel about zionism or what your definition of it is, there’s something really sinister about a Jewish person feeling the need to directly specify what they think of Israel the second they reveal that they’re Jewish, to show that they’re “one of the good ones.” I’d like non-Jews to take a moment to think about this and ask themselves the following:

What reason would a Jewish person have for putting these identities side by side? Why does a Jew feel like they have to set the record straight?

Is there any other marginalized ethnic group for whom it would be acceptable to immediately interrogate or be suspicious about their beliefs and moral character based on their ethnicity?

Could you have done anything to make Jewish people feel the need to signal themselves as being on your side - the “correct” side - because they were afraid you would assume otherwise based on the fact that they are Jewish?

Could you have done anything to stop others in your circle from talking over Jews, dehumanizing Jews (that includes Jewish Israelis, because it’s always the Jewish ones that are being dehumanized in particular), calling Jews the “real” nazis (that goes for any Jew), engaging in denial about Jewish ethnic origins (ie: calling all Jews “white,” ignoring the centuries of oppression and expulsion of Jews from MENA countries, denying that we come from the Levant, etc), calling Jews “zios” (a nazi slur), immediately dismissing Jews who call out leftist antisemitism because they must be a zionist and therefore their claim must invalid, and so on?

If you care at all about Jews, you would do well to ask yourselves these questions, because this is just a small sample of the barrage of antisemitism we’ve all had to deal with over the last year and half.

If you don’t, if you proudly engage in the sort of behavior I listed above, if you blatantly ignore Jews speaking out about these issues - or worse yet, harass them and add them to public block lists (what could go wrong with a list full of Jews?) - you have fallen into nazi rhetoric. You are engaging in nazi behavior. You are no better than those who ignored or rejoiced at our genocide. Some of you are even proudly rejoicing now -or following people who are - about 1200 of us getting raped, tortured, and slaughtered, and 60+ getting kidnapped (and subsequently also raped, tortured and slaughtered). As long as a Jew is also an Israeli (and it’s always Jewish Israelis specifically, never other Israelis), we are not people to you. If you make exceptions for the mass-slaughter of our people, as long as they are of a nationality you hate, we are not people to you. If your immediate reaction to me saying all this is to run to my profile and hunt for (non-existent) evidence that I want Palestinians dead (I don’t) or that I’m okay with Israel’s actions (I’m not) so that you can pat yourself on the back and dismiss me because this whole thing about Jew hate is all a bit too inconvenient for you, we are not people to you.* You are no friend to Jews. You are no friend to your Jewish friends - that is, if you have any left at all, or had any to begin with.

*PS: maybe also think about why I - like the person I referred to in the beginning of this post - felt the need to defend myself in parentheses in this sentence, lest non-Jews believe me to be a “bad Jew.”

[hhhhunty]

Redwall Piece supernovas lineup! I am going to yap about them under the cut, but if you want to enjoy just these drawings that's fine! 😊

Okay okay! So, some of these we've seen before but honestly I didn't talk a lot about my assignments and I want to and you know what it's my blog and I should indulge myself! I'll go in order :)

Alright there's fox hawkins, who I've posted before! My reasoning for this one is pretty simple - foxes in redwall are tricky, yes, but they also tend to be seers and fortune tellers! I felt that suited Hawkins' vibe very well. Honestly his is a pretty simple assignment.

Next is Zoro and Luffy and I'm partial to them so here's a picture of just them. Zoro is a badger, and Luffy's a weasel.

Zoro's was the biggest no-brainer of all time. Even if you don't know Redwall I think badger suits him as an animal. In redwall they're generally immensely powerful, somewhat solitary, and most importantly some of 'em have got a very fun affliction called bloodwrath, where when they get very angry in the heat of battle their eyes turn blood red and their vision is overtaken by a red haze and they go totally berserk! Yay! I really like that for Zoro. There's the fun stress revolving around loss of control along with his intense need to protect his friends. Also, his stripe is green. Why? Maybe he rolled in grass. Maybe it's mold. Maybe he was born that way. Yes, Sanji makes fun of it.

Now, Luffy. Luffy's a weasel, and in Redwall the creatures have... archetypes, sort of. There are "Vermin" and there are "Woodlanders" and for the most part these roles are bad and good respectively, with very few grey characters, or characters who break this mold. Weasels are always, always, evil. Now I'm not an elementary schooler so I'm rejecting that, to an extent. Luffy's more textbook selfish, here, and probably a bit more of an asshole, too, but he hoards his friends just as obsessively as in canon! He's less sympathetic towards people he doesn't know, too. Also, I can just imagine him flopping down and twisting and running circles around all his friends and I think that's very cute.

Killer and Kid!!!

So, originally, I had intended to make them both rats. However it was brought to my attention Killer is based off a yokai called kamaitachi, which is a weasel with sickle claws. I liked that a lot, so I sort of channeled it here. His punishers don't spin, but still they're fun. I made him look much more like a stereotypical cartoon weasel than I have for any other mustelid I've drawn, because I really liked the vibe for him.

As for Kid, he just makes a fantastic Massive Rat. Rats, of course, are pretty much fully evil in Redwall, unless they're too stupid to be evil, which happened one time across 22 books. That's fine because Kid is pretty evil. Pirates in redwall are all vermin, so I felt making these pirates vermin wouldn't be so bad.

Drake and Law!

Honestly Drake was mostly just my gut instinct. He's a redhead. Squirrels are red. Squirrels also make pretty brave warriors it seems. They're also "good" creatures, which I think works well with Drake's whole SWORD deal. That blue looks very nice with his orange fur in my opinion. I adore how he turned out.

Law I've drawn before. He's just such a great ferret. Yes, ferrets are evil. But Law's a little evil too so that's fine. I actually gave him his hat this time, good for him!

Bonney and Bege!

Bonney is a hedgehog. Why? I liked it. I think Bonney being able to roll into a spiky ball is fantastic. Hedgehogs are "good" creatures, of course. Also I love her i love her so much. Her spikes are pinkish because well I wanted them to be. Whoever guessed Bonney and Kuma were the badger father and adoptive hedgehog daughter yeah you were right. I'm normal.

Bege's a shrew! Most shrews are "good," with a handful of exceptions. They usually run in groups of a bunch of shrews, generally on rivers. I also took some inspiration from that one shrew from zootopia because that felt somewhat similar.

Lastly, Apoo and Urouge!

Apoo I've drawn before, he's a goose! Some geese have funny poofy feathers on their head. He has that. The brown is not feathers, but rather something kind of like hair extensions, made from... I dunno. Something brown, obviously. Apoo honks at people and chases them and he's really annoying.

Urouge was.... hard. He's the only supernova without much screentime. I wanted him to be a bird but my options were limited... so I settled on a sparrow. Why? I dunno. They're pretty good warriors so he has that going for him. I think visually he turned out cute even if his species choice feels the weakest.

That's about all I have to say thank you. Any questions or comments or suggestions? Send me asks!!! I never shut up!!!!

[cameronsbabydoll]

hiiii q(≧▽≦q) i rlly love ur entire blog esp ur bunny readers (i eat them up so goodddd hehe) tysm for your service (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

i was thinking abt like. Graves being somewhere international for deployment or a holiday or something and getting a bit homesick out of nowhere so he goes to a western-themed bar nearby, where the reader currently is!! she's just having a night out and she's sort of drunk and there's a mechanical bull in the bar for any patrons to have a try at and she tries it and fails miserably with only 15 out of 120 seconds on the bull bc she's drunk and isn't thinking properly (can u tell im speaking from experience 〒▽〒). Graves finds it soooo funny that this sweet little local girl in her daisy dukes and little button up shirt that almost makes her look like one of the girls from back home is looking so huffy at not being able to keep herself upright on a bucking bull. so he decides to (for some reason, maybe he missed home? maybe he wanted to see her face when he went on?) have a go at it, and succeeds incredibly, garnering a standing ovation from the patrons. he stays the whole 2 minutes on the bucking bull without once breaking a sweat, while the reader watches with stars in her eyes right at the edge of the small, air-cushioned "arena". Graves is obvi proud, of course, but he's got that sort of quiet Southern smugness when he walks off that just enchants reader. maybe it's the alcohol talking, or she's just stupid (she doesn't know (ˉ ▽ ˉ;)...), but she approaches him and asks if he could give some pointers to her on how the hell she can stay on the bucking bull for as long as he did. and he tells her!! he uses his hands to gesture and slips in all these Southern pet names with his saccharine-sweet drawl like "darlin'" "baby" "sweetheart" "doll/dollface (take ur pick hehe)", etc. and reader can't tell if she's meant to pay attention his words or his face because he's just so handsome and talking so slowly like he wants to make sure she understands!! and when he's done she nods frantically and gets back in line to do it again, and when she does it, she doesn't get the whole two minutes but she still gets a whole minute and a half!! more than triple of what she got last time!! she's so proud and bounds up to Graves with this excited and proud smile on her face, giggling like she won the lottery and Graves decides to buy her a drink or two to celebrate her silly little achievement.

i don't know where it could go it could be like sfw or nsfw but like idk

- 🦴

he didn’t expect to be this homesick.

he’s seen enough deserts and dirt roads in the past few months to make a map of every no-name town on the planet.

but nothing had scratched the itch like this bar’s neon sign:

“longhorn saloon — cowboy night every friday”

when he steps inside — boots thunking against the dusty wooden floor, Stetson tipped just a touch lower over his brow — he doesn’t expect to find you.

you, in little denim cutoffs and a white button-up tied above your belly button.

you, wobbling near the bar with a bright red cocktail in hand and a group of girlfriends egging you on.

you, who immediately slurs, “alright, i’m doin’ it!” before trotting barefoot toward the mechanical bull like it’s some kind of great spiritual mission.

graves sips his beer.

leans back.

watches.

fifteen seconds later you’re face-down on the air mat, huffing and whining like it betrayed you personally.

he bites back a laugh. doesn’t succeed.

you’re so pissed off at a literal robot cow, and he thinks you might be the cutest damn thing he’s seen in months.

you stomp your foot. point at it.

“it’s rigged! it knows!”

he’s smirking before he even knows he’s gonna get up.

hell, maybe it’s the bourbon. maybe it’s the nostalgia. maybe it’s your little pout.

he tosses his hat to the bartender and pulls himself up onto the bull with the ease of a man born into boots.

people cheer.

you stand there, sipping your drink with wide, glittering eyes.

and two minutes later—he hasn’t budged.

just riding smooth, easy, hand raised, hips swaying like it’s second nature.

he could go another minute, you’re sure of it.

when he finally hops down, brushing dust off his jeans, you’re already at the edge of the mat blinking up at him.

“how the hell’d you do that?”

he looks down. smiles slow.

his voice hits you like brown sugar and honey bourbon.

“you wanna learn, sweetheart?”

you nod.

“’course you do.”

“c’mere, darlin’. lemme show you.”

he starts gesturing, real slow.

explains where to grip, how to shift your weight. uses his hands to guide your posture, not quite touching you, just hovering. but you feel every ghost of it.

every time he leans in, it’s all hot breath and drawl and big hands and the occasional:

“now, keep them little hips steady—easy, baby, like that. good girl.”

“don’t grip with your thighs too tight or you’ll just pop yourself off, doll.”

“balance it like you’re dancin’... real slow. like you’re lettin’ a man lead.”

you’re not even listening at some point.

you’re too busy watching his lips. his jaw. the way he smells like cedar and something smoky and expensive. the faint smirk when he realizes how hard you’re trying to keep your eyes on his hands.

“you get all that, sweetheart?” he asks, smug.

“yes, sir,” you say, way too fast.

he chuckles, low.

you bounce back in line like you’re in the damn rodeo finals.

and when you hit that ninety-second mark, the crowd goes wild.

you’re breathless. grinning so big your cheeks hurt. bounding right back into graves’ space like he’s your cowboy guardian angel.

“i did it!! you saw that, right?”

he smiles at you—real warm.

“saw every second of it, sugar.”

“i almost hit two minutes!!”

“mm, almost,” he teases, brushing a knuckle under your chin.

“but i think that’s worth a drink or two, don’t you?”

you nod. dazed. flushed.

“yeah. yeah, i do.”

and when he buys you one?

he doesn’t even ask your name yet.

he just tips his glass and says:

“to my little cowgirl.”

[transrevolutions]

french revolution dashboard simulator

🐀 ami-du-peuple Follow

uh actually man has the right to deal with his oppressors by devouring their beating hearts. hope this helps.

🎩 departicle Follow

Hold up. Okay. Actually, fuck this. This sort of violent rhetoric should not be tolerated on here. Do you seriously think this sort of thing is going to make the nobility give you more rights???? You must be out of your minds! Reported.

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

reblog to devour this guy's beating heart

#username checks out lmao #politics #everybody point and laugh #common adp w

6,178 notes

organt-deactivated06151792

update: new canto out now!!! go check it out 😈😏🥀 (remember don't like don't read <3)

📜 sacredhostreceipts Follow

@centuriesandskies this you?? not such a great look for a convention rep ngl

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

listen. I wrote this a long time ago, before I went into serious politics. the account is deactivated for a reason.

I was twenty. I did poorly. I can do better.

#sj.txt #if this is the worst dirt you can dig up on me #i'm way less corrupt than half the people in the convention these days #at least i'm not doing fucking. embezzlement. #also sacredhostreceipts if you're who i think you are #don't you have better things to do rn?

231 notes

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

why the fuck is everyone tagging this with french??? political figures?

#what the hell is going on over there #also maybe cool it with the death threats #I don't want this blog to get taken down #what's a girondin #is this some joke I'm not french enough to understand #showdown update

5,012 notes

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

Unpopular opinion but why is everyone so up in arms about the new Civil Oath? Literally all it's asking is for you to promise not to commit treason just because the Pope tells you to? I can see where people are coming from with the whole violation-of-religion deal, but can you blame the Assembly for trying to make sure the people aren't forcibly subjugated by the wealth of the nobility?

faith-first-alwaysdeactivated03011791

Sounds like something a heretic would say. To betray the Pope and king is to betray the will of God and your eternal soul! You should pray for forgiveness and pledge loyalty to the monarchy or have fun burning in hell. Sorry not sorry.

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

L + ratio + iirc the Bible says "it is easier for a rope to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven" (Matthew 19:24)

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

occasional based catholic moment, go off OP!

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

looked the faith-first-always guy's blog, he's like a massive anti-huguenot too 🙄 why is it always the prot-exclusive radical catholics smh

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

LMAOOOOO HE DEACTIVATED

#religion tag #percs fuck off #anyways op makes a valid point #reblog #percs dni

3,719 notes

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

she committee on my safety til I can't go public

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

I don't understand the joke, can someone explain please?? 🙂 Thank you!

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

is that fucking MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE?!!?!?!?

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

oh my god citizen robespierre I'm so sorry this was not meant to break containment lol I didn't even know you were on this site please forget you saw this

#this is the most embarassing moment of my life #literally sobbing rn #the original post is /j i prommy #i cannot be known as the citizen who had to explain this to the government

19,853 notes

🪓 indulgentsfuckoff Follow

fabre d'eglantine is NOT your poor little meow meow citizens he literally falsified decrees from the national convention and embezzled money to line his own pockets. I don't care how uwu babygirl you think he is he is a CRIMINAL who should be ARRESTED

💛 i-give-people-bread Follow

🥖🍞🥐

#baguette #loaf #croissant #i-give-people-bread #indulgentsfuckoff #silly

2,011 notes

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

fucking fed up with the constant threat of the swiss guard, I think it's time we got some gunpowder and weapons and took things into our own hands yknow what I'm saying

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

I'm no longer joking about this btw

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

update:

hopital

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

ok bc I've gotten like 50 asks about this: I am not injured and I am not in need of medical care. the punchline was that we stormed the fucking hotel des invalides to get guns and powder. didn't want to clarify the joke before now for security reasons but everyone knows about that and the bastille thing by now. please direct your money to people who actually need it.

#shouldve clarified the last post was /j #however I assumed yall knew this joke already #anyways #revolution #personal #500 #1k

1,930 notes

🌾 nopain-nograin Follow

got so high at the festivial 2day i thnk i saw hte suapreme being

#robespiere speech was prboably 🔥 #unforntuately i camt rember any of it #grainposting #oipum ehre is somtehing else thes days #memes

8,256 notes

🎨 jldavid-real-moved Follow

incredible speech from @springtimeofgovernment today at the jacobin club. nobody should be permitted to use their positions as civic leaders to commit crimes against the people, even under the guise of revolutionary fervor. if it comes to it, I too will drink the hemlock with him. for france. 🤝🤝

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

Thanks for your support, @jldavid-real

The situation over here is deteriorating really quickly, the representatives are getting violent and abandoning due process entirely. Anything you can do to stand with us now would be very appreciated. You do a lot of great work for the revolution, and I trust you completely.

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

@jldavid-real are you still there? We could really use your help right now.

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

boosting @springtimeofgovernment here, can confirm he's been injured in a skirmish at the hotel de ville, they're passing summary death sentences without trial, @jldavid-real where is the help you promised us??? the people of paris are our only hope now.

edit: of course he moved blogs. coward.

#sj.txt #disappointed yet unsurprised #marat would be ashamed of you #9 thermidor #update

15,794 notes

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

DNI if you support any of these groups/people or their actions: m0narchists, f3uillants, br1ssotins/g1rondins, th3rmidorians, b0napart1sts, h3nri du v3rgier (also goes by c0mte de r0chjacquelin), charl0tte c0rday, or lafay3tte

(h3bertists and dant0nists you're on thin ice. behave.)

#censored so they dont show up in the tags #dni #get your nasty ass ideologies off my page #won't hesitate to block and/or report any violators #pinned

52 notes

gracchus-babeufdeactivated05271797

reblog to make the directoire choke to death on their stupid fucking outfits

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

hey staff. yeah you. where did this blog go?? notfishgoujon and prairial-95 are gone as well?? cowards too afraid to show your faces lmao especially after the fucking mess the directoire's made of the country. bet you anything that staff are on their fucking payroll too iykwim at least the republic didn't tolerate fucking bribery

#this site's gone to the dogs since thermidor yr 2 #following the trend of the rest of the country tbh #i'll probably get nuked for posting this #if so i'm not making a new account #i'll just make a paleocities or smth #politics tag #reblog #don't play with me ik full well gb didn't delete his blog of his own free will #they also zero note glitched it #just when you think they can't stoop lower

0 notes

📕 spectrehauntingeurope Follow

it's been 50 fucking years since gracchus-babeuf (and the other CoE blogs) were deleted without warning and still no response from staff, the govt, or anything. the site's gone through a fuckton of ownership changes and still nothing.

we're working on a bit of a project (some of you might know abt it already), it's gonna be out prob in the next year or so. remember '89. remember '93 and '94. remember '97.

the people will rise again. it's only a matter of time. 🚩

-mod karl

[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》 V Part I Part II Part III Part IV Mmm, 5-ish months and I finally finished. I was really on a roll with these stories but work really took a bunch of time out of my schedule. It did get to the point that I didn't really want to finish this. But I can't have another story that was scraped right before the end again XD (I'll finish that UA fic at some point--) Also, this isn't a bunch of bullet notes for once. Wowie. Another thing, there'll be a part VI focused on Bruce. I was gonna merge him with Damian but I realized it just wouldn't work. I wanted to sort of wrap this story up so I can move on to my other interests. But I got back into reading other people's yandere batfam stories and got me interested again. Hopefully this keeps me motivated to finish this story. And who knows, maybe I'll go back and update the last few parts Tag: @redkarmakai @erikasurfer @szapizzapanda @kore-of-the-underworld @imhere2dosomething @pastel-mouse @cooki3dough @naina326 @peptox @ladylupuscrow @confused-they @megasweetbones @1-800-crazy @lillian-morningstar @butterflycardigann @senhoritaapple @lunayaps @sirenetheblogger @ferchu0406 @caged-birdies-blog

CW: Mention of past kidnapping, bar fight, blood, and lab testing. "Death"(Impaled). Fighting. Explosions.  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

It’s been a few days since you’ve decided to return to the manor. You were sort of numb for the first few days, not entirely sure if you made the right choice. Being used in a lab doesn't sound appealing, but who says your “family” isn't going to do the same thing? It's scary how they know how your body works better than you do. But how do they even know all this? 

Yes, you were “friends” with Dick for a while but you don't think you were ever injured around him. Probably a small paper cut or scraped knee but that’s it. You’ve only met Jason once and it was during that bar fight. That whole thing was quite violent, you ended up dead in an alleyway. Maybe that's how they studied your “powers”.

Honestly, the biggest reason you decided to return to the manor is for the chance to see your mom. If Tim was telling the truth, your mom is still out there. Suffering. This is your chance to save and be with her again. There may be some questions on why your “family” is suddenly interested in you and wants you back at the manor, but you don’t think too much about it. You just want your mom.

Plus, if you’re gonna be tested on, at least you're treated decently here. Dick gives you full range of his apartment, Jason delivers whatever food you’re craving and Tim gives you space.

Speaking of which, you haven't actually been taken to the manor yet. Your “brothers” won't give you the details but they just tell you to wait a bit. You can’t decide if it’s a blessing to not go to that dreaded place or a curse. That manor will undoubtedly bring the loneliest memories but this apartment is filled with the people that made those memories.

Not only that, but Dick apparently had a pet dog. Of course, no hate to the sweet puppy, but you did not want to be anywhere near her. You thought you’d be okay with the small pitbull but the memories of Damian using his pets to attack you just came flooding in. Curse him for ruining your love for animals. At least you don’t mind watching Haley when she’s on the other side of the room. Though, you end up not seeing her at all since you primarily lock yourself in the bedroom.

While waiting to go back to Gotham, your “brothers” took turns staying at the apartment with you. Dick is fairly respectful of your need for space. He stays outside of the bedroom but he acts like a dog pawing and sitting at the door until it gets open. Constantly rambling and talking, trying to hold a conversation while you tune him out. Sometimes you can hear him commentating while playing with Haley. Just the thought of the dog happily chasing a ball warms your heart while also making you shiver at the thought of her chasing you. She may not be as big as Titus but your brain apparently can’t tell the difference. Unlike your other two “brothers”,  you let Dick in the room at times. It is his after all and he usually just grabs whatever before leaving.

Jason is a little more tolerable. You don't know how but he always finds a way into the room even though you were sure that the door was locked. No matter where you look, you can’t find out how he’s able to get in the room. He just pops in and jumpscares you every time. Jason mainly comes inside to give you food or some book to entertain yourself. You’ve asked for your laptop a few times but Jason wouldn’t hand it over. To avoid the constant surprise visits, you told him that you’d open the door for him if he was only delivering food or a book. Guess who still refuses to use the door.

Tim…You refuse to even acknowledge him. It’s possible that the rest of your “family” is just as, if not more, crazy than him, but Tim was the first to show his true colors. Immediately making him drop on your list of trusted individuals. Even though he wasn’t that high to begin with. Just that he was willing to sell you out to some lab for a power you didn’t know you even had until recently! It’s just unnerving to be anywhere near him and Tim, you think, knows this. While Dick and Jason are always talking or interacting with you, Tim hasn’t bothered you too much. It makes you wonder why he went through all the trouble of cornering you like this if he doesn’t even seem to care.

— ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

You lay diagonally on the large, blue and black bed. Your head closest to the lamp on its nightstand with a book at arm's length. Honest, you’ve lost the motivation to continue reading for a while now but also don’t have anything else better to do. Reading just gets boring when that’s all you can do all day. Can’t believe it’s only been about a week and you’re already getting Cabin Fever. You glance out the window and release a tired sigh. The sun is only just going down. While you could sleep the days away, you got a bad headache once from constantly sleeping so you tried to stay awake in the morning. 

You asked Dick about going out at one point and he said it was too dangerous. Or just rambled about how happy he was that you actually said something to him…After staring at the window for a couple more seconds, you slowly pulled yourself up and made your way to the over. Your hands reach for the window’s lift but hesitate with opening it. There’s a high chance that the lab group hunting you down is still out there. Just the thought of getting found out just because you wanted fresh air sent a shiver down your spine. Plus, you were still being watched by your “brothers”. Dick and Jason would definitely notice if you opened the window. Maybe Tim wouldn’t mind…right?

While they never told you this specifically, there was definitely an order your “brothers” took for who watched over you for the day. It was Dick, Jason, Tim, then repeat. You did your best to remember this because you didn’t want to get caught opening the window. You may not have completely wrapped your head around why your “family" is suddenly interested in you but don’t want to get on their bad side. Not when you know they’re capable of sending you to that lab group. Dick says how the family wants to fix their errors and to make amends with you. But how could you ever trust them? How can you trust your “family” that left you to die all that time ago and then threaten your life? What could you have done to make them do this to you…

The moment you were sure that it was only Tim and you in the apartment, you carefully opened the window and allowed the sun in. Feeling the warm light touch your skin almost made you melt and take a nap. Which you did. You even took one of the books Jason gave you and sat on the windowsill. There wasn’t really a way to get completely comfortable but the outdoor air was enough for you to give you the energy to read your book. When it started getting late, you dropped your book on a nearby surface in the room before turning your body to face outside. You swing your legs lazily while staring at the few stars that peek out of the sky. Even as the cold air makes you shiver, you don’t want to go back into the apartment. No way are you going to cut your time short when you barely get to go outside. 

Well, it seems it’s gonna be cut short anyways because a sudden creaking sound reached your ear. Jumping in surprise, you quickly grab the edge of the window to stop yourself from falling several floors. You may not die but it’d still hurt. Your eyes do a quick scan around you for the source of the sound before landing on a nearby fire escape. Just a window away, Tim stands there with two steaming mugs. Weak eyes looking directly at you with a blank expression. You can feel your heart sink as you debate on explaining yourself or being annoyed. While you’ve made plans to let Tim know how much hate you have for him, it was all in your head. Seeing him now after so long and being the one in a bad position, you didn’t have the confidence to start an argument. 

Before you can even think of what to say, Tim casually steps forward and holds one mug out to you. You hesitate but carefully take the mug. When you accept the mug, a smile suddenly spreads across Tim’s face but remains silent. Just taking a sip of his mug while waiting for you to do the same. It takes you a moment to register what exactly Tim put in your cup. You considered throwing the cup at him but you’re still a little frazzled and his staring doesn’t help. You eventually take a sip, allowing the warm and sweet flavor of chocolate to make you relax. Hot chocolate is always nice when it’s cold out. 

“...You know you shouldn’t be out here” His words immediately replace the warmth your body just had from the hot chocolate with a cold chill. Without meeting his eyes, you try to appear unphased. Just swirling the liquid in your mug while letting it keep your hands warm. “So? It’s not like I actually left. Plus, I’ve kept an eye out. I don’t always need you and your brothers watching over me” You keep your head high, wanting to make it clear that you still have no interest in being involved in this family.

A small laugh escapes the other party before a soft thud. When you steal a glance, Tim has an elbow resting on the railing of the fire escape and his head in his palm. “If Dick found you out here, he’d board up all the windows” Hearing this instantly makes you look at Tim in confusion. Would Dick actually do that? Tim’s smile doesn’t fade as he continues while bringing his mug to his lips. “Jason may chain your ankle to the bed frame” What the heck is with this family?? For several years, you’ve wished to learn about your “family” so you can bond with them. But this is too much

“And do you know what I’d do?” The question catches you off guard. A part of you just wants to throw a snarky remark but another part is still baffled by the possibility of having a barred window or a chain to your bed. You aren’t even sure if you’re supposed to answer the question until Tim speaks up. “I’d get you a cup of hot chocolate and tell you to come back inside. It is getting late, don’t want to Dick or Jason to find you when they return.” With that, Tim lifts himself from the railing and steps back inside the apartment. You remain seated while trying to process what Tim said. So, you weren’t gonna get in trouble? Your thoughts get caught off by the sound of a door opening behind you. When you turn around, you see Tim in the doorway and motioning you into the living area. 

You carefully get off the windowsill, not wanting to spill your hot chocolate, before stepping back into the warm apartment. Tim holds the door open for you and whispers as you cautiously pass him “I also won’t tell your brothers if you play some games with me” This immediately makes you turn around and glare at Tim. Of course there was a catch to his “kindness”. Maybe that is why you were so willing to listen to him. Tim may act normal but he’s from a family that doesn’t know what’s normal.

Reluctantly, you play a few games with Tim in the living room. Luckily Haley’s out with Dick or you would have been really distracted while playing. You loved any ranking game so you could beat Tim, so it was great not being paranoid about being jumped by the small dog. Though, you don’t feel as victorious when he seems just as happy as you are with your wins. You’d dump your hot chocolate on him but you ran out. Also Dick and Jason had returned. When Dick saw you out of the bedroom, he nearly broke your eardrums as he hugged you like a favorite plushie. You worried that Haley would come over to you since her owner was holding you, but Tim picked her up before she got too close. Also Jason made dinner.

 — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

Today is the day. Finally taking the dreadful ride back to Gotham. It literally is only around a 30 minute drive but you couldn’t help but feel like it’d be hours. Dick tried to cheer you up by saying what a fun family road trip this’ll be. As if you hadn’t been stuck with these three idiots for several days already. With Jason’s and Tim’s help, your stuff from your apartment are put in the car and it’s time to get on the road. Dick gets into the driver seat, Jason in the passenger seat, and you and Tim sit in the back. Ever since Tim found you sitting on the windowsill, you’ve slowly become more tolerant. You probably just feel a little obligated to spend a little time with him since he didn’t tell Dick or Jason about what happened. Or the other times that you opened the window again. Tim also helps get Haley tired so she sleeps while you go into the living room to play another game. 

Your gaze is focused on the window as the car starts up and begins moving. There’s some chatter between Dick, Jason and Tim but you don’t bother with listening. That is until Tim gets your attention with an open bag of chips. You all share the large bag while bantering with one another. Every time the opportunity arises, you make sure to tell them all the things you hate about them. It makes you happy to see them grimace but they always try to turn things around. Dick and Tim waves off your words, telling you to look to the future where you’ll be happier and safer now with your “family”. Jason would only scoff and redirect the conversation.

Arriving into Gotham, it’s as depressing as ever. Feels like it was only yesterday that you were on a bus to escape this city. Now you’re back for reasons you still aren’t completely sure about. When you looked at the time at the front of the car, you were surprised to see that a whole hour had passed. “What the hell?? It is not that long of a drive to get from Blüdhaven to Gotham” You look to Dick for an answer as he just releases a small laugh. Before he can answer, however, his phone rings. Jason picks up the device before you can see who the caller is and brings it to his ear. “What?” You and Tim watch Jason until he ends the call with a groan. He massages his forehead before finally speaking up. “There’s an outbreak”

This news immediately frightens you but Dick and Tim appear to be ready. The car is pulled over and hidden near an abandoned building. As they gear up, they formulate a plan to handle the situation and get you to safety. You honestly get a little distracted as you remember that your “family” are a bunch of vigilantes that fight crime. Wait, what if you’re being brought back to become one too? Before you can ponder on the thought though, Nightwing grabs your attention. “Okay, so I’m going to take you to the closest safehouse. You’ll stay with the other civilians until this all settles down. At the same time, Red Hood and Red Robin are going to their posts and handle the situation. Once I drop you off, I’ll be doing the same. Do not leave that safehouse.” You don’t think you’ve ever heard Nightwing so serious. Just as you all are about to split, however, a voice is heard from overhead

“I’ll take them back” It takes your brain a bit to process what is happening as a figure jumps down from a high ledge. Robin stands in front of you all before immediately walking towards you. “I can get them back to the manor if you three idiots can hold your ground” Without another word, he grabs your arm and quickly pulls you with him. You can hear Nightwing call out to you both but it quickly fades away.

You’re basically being dragged around like a ragdoll as Robin takes you through various turns. Trying not to trip and fall on your face, you still don’t have time to figure out that this Robin was Damian. That sick kid who had no problem with physically and mentally harming you. He definitely has the same arrogant attitude and him not properly worrying about how you’re tripping over yourself from how fast he was going checks out. At least he hasn’t forced you to climb buildings or do some impossible jump. 

So far, no trouble crossed your path as Robin continued to pull you behind him. Not once does he let go of your arm. It’s honestly hard to run when he’s holding you like this, but at least you won’t fall behind. Of course, all good things come to an end in Gotham. Robin and you are just about to cross a street when a loud explosion is heard a couple of blocks away from you two. He leads you to hide behind a flipped car to get away from flying debris. Your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of more explosions and the smell of smoke and metal. In your confused state, Robin takes off his cap and lets you use it as a mask of sorts. Trying to stop any more fumes from your system. You aren’t able to fully comprehend what he is saying if he suddenly stands up and leaves.

Obviously confused, your eyes follow Robin as you continue to hold his cap to your face. Your vision takes a moment to focus on the path ahead of him to see a group of villains creating havoc. You can’t quite see what or hear what is happening but you hope that everything is okay. As you sit behind a car and slowly clear your head, you piecing things together. Such as how much younger Robin is to you and how you just watched him get up and go fight those villains with explosives. You may hate Damian but he’s still a kid, right? You’ve wished plenty of misfortunes on him but you didn’t want it to be like this. It could be that you're actually still hazy from the smoke but you force yourself to figure out how to help Robin. 

You peek over the car again to look for something helpful but immediately find the opposite. There’s another villain nearby that is tearing down buildings and cars. There’s still time before they reach you so you try figuring out a plan. Looking inside the car next to you, you find a toolbox. You rummage inside of it until you find a decently sized hammer. This won’t be of any use against that broad villain that is destroying the city, but it could possibly be useful for Robin in his fight. As carefully as you can, you hide behind large debris as you step closer to where Robin was fighting. He’s doing well but by the time he’s done, the next villain will be here. You watch for an opening before throwing your hammer as hard as you can. It doesn’t do as much damage as you hoped but it gives Robin a chance to quickly knock the villain down.

Once the villain is taken care of, Robin yells and scolds you for getting involved. “I told you to say where you were! What could have possibly happened to give you the idea that I was in need of any help? I am fully capable and trained to handle these enemies while you can’t even follow simple instructions! Are you asking to die out here?!” Hearing his harsh words after so long almost makes you fall back. But no, you refuse to let this kid look down on you “I literally can’t die! Don’t fucking act like you I need your protection when I am capable of handling myself! Plus, there’s another monster thing coming this way. We need to get out of here before—” Your words get cut off as a loud roar is heard and more debris is being thrown around.

Robin quickly grabs your arm and begins pulling you both away. There’s no time to pick up the hammer you threw and you accidentally drop Robin’s cape. You stumble behind him while turning your head behind you, looking towards the large monster that appears to have just noticed you two. The villain easily pulls a lamppost up from the ground and throws it, with the top of the post pointing directly at Robin and you. The sight of the metal beam causes you to quickly grab onto Robin’s wrist and force him to let you go. Once he releases his grip, he turns to scold you again but you quickly shove him to the side. You’re suddenly launched forward a few feet as a sharp pain pierces through your body. The point of a lamppost suddenly appears at your front as your body quickly registers this new wound. The pain is so overwhelming that your brain doesn’t register the sound of someone calling your name. Eventually it all becomes too much and everything goes black.

— ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊  — ˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𓆩𓆪 ࿐⋆⁺₊ —

Great. Just great. You were just speared right before Robin’s eyes. From the extensive research made by Bruce and Tim, you should still be alive. But this sight of you dying was still an unpleasant sight. It fills him with an unfathomable amount of rage at you, himself, and the villain that was after you both. Robin uses a great amount of force to defeat the monster as soon as possible. Wanting to get this over with so he can take your body back to the manor.

Once the final guy has fallen, Robin slowly approaches your body that still hangs limb on the lamppost. He picks up his cape on the way, seeing as you dropped it when you two were making your escape. Robin cleans as much of the dirt off before finding himself faced with your body. With careful hands, he pulls your body off and gently lays you on the ground. He lifts up his cap and immediately wraps it around your torso, applying enough pressure to stop the bleeding. Robin then carefully picks you and continues the journey to the manor. Being extra sure to avoid any more casualties so you can receive medical assistance sooner.

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ lipstick ~ s. gojo

sum: everyone knows your fiancé loves buying and giving you gifts - no one would guess which was his favourite.

pairing: satoru gojo x fiancée! reader

content: 18+ - mndi. blowjob/handjob, reader gets called princess/sweets/sweetheart, slightly sub gojo, implied public sex, generalised swearing.

a/n: based on sfw videos i’ve seen floating around, why not add a twist heh. as always likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated!

word count: 970

links: jjk masterlist | masterlist

satoru gojo loves nothing more than spoiling you rotten because he’s filthy rich and one of his love languages is gift-giving. he doesn’t care how much it costs, you’re worth every penny.

the latest model of your phone that’s only been out a few hours? that outfit you’ve had your eye on for a few months now? that car you made a passing comment about? you can bet they're now yours - each with a hint of baby blue somewhere as a nod to who you belong to.

despite all the lavish gifts, no one would ever suspect that satoru gojo’s favourite thing to buy you is lipstick. he loves the various colours that compliment your skin tone, and the way you move your mouth when applying the colour before pressing your lips together to make sure they’re covered.

he never knew there were so many types of lipstick until he dated you - matte, sheer, creamy and a whole load more. of course, he took the time to get to know each one and know your personal favourites.

however, both of you know the main reason he buys you a ton of lipsticks and who were you to complain, especially when you had him in a panting mess.

“f-fuck baby, please. colour me some more with those, shit, pretty lips of yours”. the groan that left satoru’s throat had you humming, doe eyes looking up at him through your lashes as you moved your lips with a pop. sucking in a breath as you continued to move the hand you had wrapped around the base of his cock.

“somebody’s impatient”. two simple words that had him throwing his head back with a groan as he lifted his hips, trying desperately to get any sort of friction from your hand. much like any other time, you’d placed your new lipstick upon your lips and pressed them together in a kiss to make sure you’d applied the colour properly, and as usual, your fiancé watched eagerly with trained eyes chewing on his bottom lip.

once you turned to show him, satoru stepped towards you and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. he took a few seconds to look at you before attaching his lips to your neck, nibbling at the skin as you let your head fall back, hands grabbing at his jacket to steady yourself. after a few antagonising minutes, he faced you again before smirking, hands gripping your hips. “i think you know what i want, sweets”.

glancing at the clock you hummed out before nodding your head, guiding him to the bed and pushing him down. “of course i do, but make it quick, i’d hate to miss our dinner date, toru”.

looking back at those blue eyes you fell in love with, you placed your free hand on top of the one now gripping your hair and smirked. as much as you’d love to tease him longer, you both had to leave soon so while continuing to move your hand, you began to place soft kisses on his thighs and near the base of his cock, much to his amusement. ��h-ah, princess, making sure to colour me, fuck, pretty”.

pulling away from the final kiss you placed, you let out an innocent giggle and looked back up at him. “of course, toru, got to make sure i leave my mark one way or another, these ones are temporary until later”. before he had time to retort, you placed another kiss on the head of cock before sliding your lips down, hollowing out your cheeks as you worked your mouth and hand in tandem, taking in every detail and vein you could.

you knew he was close by the way his legs strained and breathing quickened, abs tensing slightly as he helped you move your head with the hand wrapped in your hair, sinful noises falling from his parted lips. with a few more hard sucks you felt his cock tense and he spurted ropes of his come at the back of your throat, panting to catch his breath as you pulled off with a pop, milky white fluid slipping out the corner of your lip.

bringing your fingers up to your lip, you swiped up the slither of cum and smirked as you looked at it, slipping your fingers into your mouth as you sucked them clean, eyes never leaving the man above you.

“f-fuck, sweetheart, if we didn’t have to go to dinner, i’d make sure you couldn’t walk for a week”. looking you over he ran a hand through his hair, huffing out a sneaky breath before he smirked at you again. “on second thoughts, we have time for a quickie don’t we, sweets?”. standing, you leaned forward and helped him fix his trousers, patting his cheek with a grin. “hmmm… sure you would think that, toru. you’re just going to have to wait until we come home”.

walking back to the dresser you touched up your lipstick, fixing your outfit before you turned to face satoru who’d walked to your side. placing a hand on his shoulder, you stood on your toes and placed your lips to his neck leaving a colourful imprint of your lips on his skin.

you knew he wouldn’t wipe it away, wearing it as a badge of honour while out with you. you also knew that you’d never make it back home before he had pressed against the seat in the back of his car, fucking into you relentlessly as you cry out for him to let you breathe for a moment as payback for not letting him have a quickie with you earlier.

out of all the gifts satoru gojo buys you - lipstick is hands down his favourite, and your favourite too.

permanent tags;

@ani-net

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

[chocolilies]

─── RING. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. gojo satoru x fem!reader. . .ᐟ

despite wishing he could, gojo isn't always there when you get hit on. which leads to him having to take measures to lay his claim.

◟ꪆ୧ sfw, bimbo-y reader, sort of loser gojo in the way that he's whipped for his gf and loves spoiling her. no use of y/n. my first time writing for gojo and my first work on this blog!!

w.c : 1.3k.

also on ao3!

“you’re so so so so sweet, ‘toru!” you clung to your boyfriend as he pressed kisses to your flushed cheeks, staring at the golden band he’d previously slipped onto your ring finger, trying to focus on the marksmanship as he continued to pepper your face in kisses.

“it’s nothing, baby,” gojo cooed, squeezing your side as you continued to admire the jewelry, “it’s pretty, right?”

“the prettiest!” you giggled, moving your body to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing his face into your neck so he could continue kissing you there. “it looks really expensive, though…”

gojo could hear your pout as you spoke, briefly stopping his kisses to rest his head on your shoulder, feeling your arm move away from him as you no doubt took another look at the ring.

“baby, it was nothing,” gojo sighed, rubbing his thumbs into your hips soothingly as you let out a huff, “nothing’s too expensive for you."

he wasn't lying. if gojo had wanted to, he would've bought out the whole jewelry store, but he didn't.

why? because you’d probably complain about it being “too much” for someone like you, unaware that if you were to ask gojo for the moon, he’d somehow find a way to bring it down just for you.

“hmph, i guess…” you huffed, letting yourself be moved as gojo ushered you both towards the sofa, helping you sit down carefully before kneeling on the ground, resting his head on your lap.

gojo sighed happily as your fingers immediately found their place in his hair, shivering in delight as your nails scratched at his scalp and tugged at his hair, his own hands finding their place on your plush thighs.

“you’re so sweet to me, ‘toru,” you cooed softly, leaning down to make sure he heard, “y’always get me the prettiest things.”

you were right.

gojo took pride in knowing that half your wardrobe and accessories were all bought by him, and even if that wasn't obvious to anyone but you, you never failed to make it so to everyone else by reminding your coworkers, friends, students or even strangers, whenever he gifted you something new.

which is exactly what he counted on happening with his latest present.

now firstly, gojo had no problem with the clothes you wore, hell, like mentioned, he'd bought half of your wardrobe for you, but he knew that some more specific items could be considered… revealing.

he, for one, loved it.

but he knew he wasn't the only one who did.

men would sometimes stop and stare at you, asking you for your socials in front of students and even himself if they were tough enough, but one mention of the boyfriend and a point in his direction would usually derail their pathetic flirting attempts, but sometimes… it didn't.

sometimes, gojo wasn't around when you got flirted with or just couldn't accompany you to the places you and many pervs frequented, and was forced to listen to you laugh about the men who approached you.

and that, had recently unfortunately happened.

normally, gojo wasn’t one to get jealous or possessive, since there was normally no reason to do so (i mean, look at him), but he just had to get this guy off his back and out of his mind.

“awe, look ‘toru! that nice guy gave me an extra cake!”

gojo watched as you pulled out the groceries, revealing three pastries instead of the two you'd both agreed on getting.

“nice guy?” he said with a confused look as he placed down the rest of the bags he'd helped you carry up.

“yeah! told me i looked pretty and complimented the hoops you got me!” you giggled, placing the cakes in the fridge before turning back around with a smile. “guess he was just in a giving mood.”

oh, that guy wanted to give you something alright.

ever since then, each time you came from the bakery, you came bearing gifts. be it an extra cake or a free cookie, you always had something. which of course... didn't sit right with him. he'd knew soon enough that you'd get disappointed when that perv revealed his true intentions, and that pissed him off to no end.

gojo thought back on that memory bitterly, though he couldn't let himself get too caught up in his misery when he had your fingers combing through his hair and his face squished against your thighs.

“you gon’ show that off for me, baby?” gojo murmured, voice muffled by the way he was deflating in your hold, heart fluttering as you let out a giggle.

“of course i will! it's too pretty not to!” you squealed, squirming out of excitement at the idea of boasting about your new possession, as small as it might be.

gojo grinned at the idea of poor nanami and shoko, as they would no doubt be the first ones you'd show the moment you got to work tomorrow, but that grin got even wider as he thought about who you would show later.

“you're going past that bakery tomorrow, right?” gojo hummed, running his fingers up your thighs and smiling as you squirmed with a giggle.

“yeah! you want me to get some of those cakes we got last time?” you asked, leaning back on the sofa with a smile at the thought of the sweets you'd treated yourself to for the past few months.

gojo knew you were a tiny bit of an airhead at times, but he could never hold that against you. it was part of your personality, part of you, and he loved that. plus… it sometimes came in handy.

“perfect.” gojo leaned up from his kneeling position, pressing his lips to yours with a hum and a weird passion you hadn't felt before, but as he pressed you down against the sofa’s cushions with a thigh between your legs, you couldn't find anything to complain about.

by the way shoko glared at him when he passed her in the school's hall, he knew you'd kept your promise from last night, which meant he had something to look forward to when he got back home.

“hey, we didn't get anything extra this time…” you pouted as you pulled the treats out of the bag, placing exactly two cakes down on the counter.

“huh? how so?” gojo slid in behind you before wrapping his arms around your waist, perching his chin on your shoulder as you unpacked the sweets, pressing kisses against your cheek. “was it the same guy?”

“yeah…” you mumbled, looking at the receipt as if you would find an extra free item listed on there that the perv who'd served you forgot to place in the bag. “that's strange… thought we'd get lucky again…”

“was he rude to you, baby?” he acted offended as if he didn't know what happened, moving to press sloppy kisses to your exposed shoulder and neck as you talked.

“no! he was sweet like before… asked me how my day was and complimented my jewelry again…” you whined, extending your ringed hand in front of you and staring down at the golden band. “even showed off my ring…”

bingo.

“hmph. maybe he just didn't feel like giving today, baby. you upset?”

a few seconds passed before you shrugged, turning around in his grip and staring up at him with a smile. “why would i? couldn't even finish that third cake before, remember? plus, i’m happy! got to show off my ring all day!”

god, he was obsessed with you.

you giggled as he leaned down to kiss you without a second thought, giggling against his lips as he pulled you up to sit on the counter.

as he continued to kiss you, he felt your fingers find their place in his hair again, feeling the cold metal of the ring against his scalp, an action he barely noticed.

after all, a ring was something tiny.

something any man could disregard if they were too busy staring at your pretty face.

maybe his next gift should be a necklace with his initials. that would send a clearer message than a tiny ring.

[roseykat]

TITLE: Venom Biter

PAIRING: Minho x reader

SUMMARY: The end of a relationship between you and Minho turns as sour as it could ever get. A lovers to enemies trope.

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work or page whatsoever.

TAGS: breakups, hate sex, post-breakup sex, unprotected sex, swearing, angst, manhandling, push and shove, spitting, choking, oral sex (f!reader receiving), angst, strong hints of degradation, use of degrading names such as 'slut' and 'whore'.

A/N: this was originally meant to be for one of the days I had planned for Kinktober but I was up to my neck in work and I didn't want to post something sort of half-assed so I had to hone down on most of the work for this piece.

MASTERLIST

“Broke up?” Chan’s eyes refuse to blink. “You two broke up!?”

His confused filled stare shoots for the direction of his best friend, Minho, who quietly sits opposite him across the table. He looks slightly withdrawn or…off colour. It can’t have been the gruelling two hour lecture they finished before heading out to lunch. If it were that, Minho would be complaining his head off saying how boring it was or cursing himself for not changing his minor earlier. 

He’s just not his usual self. In other social settings, he could talk until the cows came home. But the entire hour that they’ve spent together at lunch, Chan has been doing all the conversing and only receiving vague one-word answers. It wasn’t until he asked what was up with Minho that his friend dished out the news that he and his girlfriend - you, had split up.

“Why?” Chan proceeds, still swimming in shock.

A sigh leaves Minho’s mouth. He truly doesn’t feel like revisiting this subject. When he even thinks about the answer, all he can recall is the firey shouting match you both had the day things crumbled. 

“It’s messy,” he replies with a cloudy and ambiguous answer. 

“If you talk about it, then it might help you make sense of it all.”

He groans this time, “I really, really don’t want to do that. What’s done is done.” 

“Done?” Chan questions, still not letting up on an interrogation. “You were in a relationship with Y/N, for years. You guys talked about a whole future together. That’s not something you just sweep under the rug and forget about.”

If there’s one thing he almost did forget about, it’s that you were friends with him - not just Chan, but the seven others as well. After all, it was Minho who introduced you to those select people whom he calls his brothers. They would’ve found out eventually if Minho refrained from telling them who you were dating all those years ago.

Though naturally, you became very close with them. 

“We’ve both chosen to do that so there’s nothing really much left to dispute.”

Chan’s eyebrows furrow, realising he left out a crucial question to the situation, “why did you guys break up in the first place?”

Minho feels like he’s going to run out of sighs, “she doesn’t love me anymore and I don’t love her anymore. That’s literally all there is to it.” 

“You’re telling me you both fell out of love - at the same time,” Chan responds, still having a difficult time trying to comprehend his friend's situation.

“Pretty much,” Minho confirms with a nod. 

Chan finds that extremely hard to believe from his friend - the very person who would enter a different realm whenever he was in a five centimetre radius of you. His eyes would glaze over as if he were possessed; always fixated on you, he’d smile more than he usually would, and was comfortable in the space around you. 

There had to be another reason, surely. 

But it had almost been three weeks since Chan dissected the news out of Minho, and it was almost like pulling teeth trying to dive for the details. Each attempt was as fruitless as the next and in the end, Chan just plucked the same answers.

Regardless, it seemed to play out better than expected. Minho saved himself from having to dish out explanations as to why you wouldn’t be around anymore. As a result, telling Chan was the best option and since the others didn’t know, Minho was okay with him telling them so that he didn’t have to. 

In saying that, Minho left out very central details of what happened leading up to the breakup. He never mentioned the constant fighting, the lying, the false accusations, the shouting matches, up until the point where you were both swimming in the toxicity the pair of you created. 

He also absconded from the fact to Chan that not only did you both separate, but you’ve also both come to view the other differently and not through a good lens. Minho shouted it in your face the other day to which you did the same; “I hate you.” And that was that.

But his friends probably didn’t need to know all of that. 

Since that day, you’ve been in the process of trying to find an apartment for yourself which isn’t easy. You want to remain in town and not too far out so that you don’t have a long commute to work, and at the same time, you don't want to break the bank trying to find a nice place to rent in the city. All in all, it was tough, but you were ready to just leave. 

Having packed up the majority of your stuff in boxes, all you had to do was wait for landlords to contact you back about possible vacant apartments. Thankfully Minho was lenient in allowing you to stay until you found a place. 

You slept in the spare room, mainly keeping to yourself and the boxes of things surrounding the space. Occasionally you would have to lock yourself in there and throw on some noise-cancelling headphones whenever Minho brought around another woman to sleep with.

It was his house, you knew that and now that you have no ties to him and he’s letting you stay, it was never your place to question his actions. 

Still, that could never lessen the hurt. It was painful which is why you hated him so much. You don’t know how a person could move on so quickly after so many years of being told how much you’re loved. It was like he never meant it. With that being said, when you eventually managed to find a decent place, you were free from Minho. 

All of your items were ready to be moved out, taking a couple of days to actually get them to your new place. In the tiring process, you also had to factor in your work schedule which meant it would take longer to continue moving your stuff. Nonetheless, you had the majority of your boxes out of Minho's house with only a few remaining that you needed to swing by and pick up.

"Something wrong?" he wears a blank look on his face when you arrive on the doorstep to his house.

"Some of my stuff is still here, can I come in to grab it please?" You ask politely. He gives a silent answer in return by opening his door wider for you to walk in before he goes back to whatever it was he was doing.

You make your way into the spare room where the last of your things remain, but there is one odd detail you notice as you approach the items. What was supposed to be taped down lids to the boxes had in fact been opened; not in the state you had originally left it in. 

"Minho," you call out, hoping he heard you.

Sure enough, he did. Minho walks into the spare room with a puzzled expression, wondering why he's been summoned, "what?"

“Why are these open?” You ask, lifting one box off of the other to check if the rest were open as well. “Half of my stuff isn’t in here.”  

“You were coming back for those?” he replies with a question. 

“What the hell else would I be coming back here for?” 

“That's what I thought when you got here,” he says. “I thought it was for other things that you left behind, not ones in these boxes."

Your eyes never leave his face, tracking any sudden shifts in his muscles to try to figure out if he’s actually telling the truth or not. Even though you and Minho aren’t together, you're sure he wouldn't do anything malicious out of spite.

“So why is half my stuff missing?” 

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, “I thought you didn’t need any of it and that you left it here on purpose for me to deal with or throw out.” 

“So what…” you trail off, expecting his answer. Minho hesitates for a few moments, sitting on the fence about whether he should actually tell you or not. But the least he can do right now is be honest. 

“I told the…girl I bought around the other day that if she wanted anything-“ 

“No you fucking didn’t.” 

“-she could have whatever was left in the boxes,” Minho finishes the rest of his sentence which would’ve been better for you not to hear. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you for leaving them behind in the first place!” Minho argues back, trying to defend himself here even though he knows he’s in the wrong. “You were gone for a few days Y/N, I thought you just left!” 

“I never left them behind! I told you how long it was going to take my things to move!” You shout at him, tears brimming your eyes. “Now my stuff…”

The hurt genuinely sets in. Minho feels a sharp stab of pain in his chest when he sees how visibly upset you are. He knows that he’s been nothing short of a dickhead within the past month and now he’s gone and made things worse. It’s no point in him now to say that it was an honest mistake.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know, truly.”

You shove him backwards into the dresser, knocking down some of the empty photo frames that were once homes for pictures of you and Minho, “you’re not sorry. You’re the fucking worst.”

Taken aback by your actions, Minho turns behind him to see the frames flat on the surface then looks back at you, “seriously Y/N, I would not have done that out of spite.”

“But it’s the fact that you still did it!” You raise your voice at him and shove him back again. “You didn’t bother calling or texting me about it when you should’ve!” 

Minho predicts your next move and catches your arms to stop you from pushing him back impossibly further into the dresser. He shoves you back, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed which causes you to land on it behind you.

Before the surprise kicks in, Minho is kneeling on top of you, nearly straddling your lower half as he starts pinning your arms to the side of your head. Yet with a split second of momentum to break free, you struggle but manage to flip the tables and pin Minho on his back. 

You mount his hips before your mouth comes down to kiss Minho so aggressively that it takes him a moment to react. With any other woman that he’s slept with so far, he would allow them to be on top. But because it’s you, and supposedly hates your guts, not to mention his untapped pride, it’s not going to happen. So Minho fights back, kissing and biting nearly every part of your upper body in the process until you’re under him. 

He sucks large, deep, red hickies into the skin of your neck, in places where everyone would be able to see them. Minho would want people to know that you’re just a whore he uses. Especially for the next guy you sleep with who would go down on you and see the myriad of hickies that Minho would eventually put between your thighs when he rips your pants down. 

“Wanna play this fucking game with me,” he rasps before yanking down your off. 

Despite being a dickhead Minho will still eat you out for prep. But it’s not soft and teasing when he does go down on you. It’s tongue and finger fucking you until you’re dizzy from how hard you’re about to cum. It gives you the opportunity to pull and tug on his hair until his scalp starts burning, forcing you to be as vocal as you’ve ever been. 

His fingers curl up into that sensitive spot while his tongue and mouth work simultaneously. He’s always been good at giving head, but unusually better now that he’s relatively angry. In the back of your mind, you supposed it helped having not slept with anyone for a month, making it easier to reach that peak of delicious, eye-rolling ecstasy. 

“Fuck!” you scream out, voice projecting throughout the room as Minho sucks on your clit. “Fuck you…you’re gonna make me cum.” 

Those words are something Minho could never get tired of hearing you say. Even in the headspace that he’s in now, he wants nothing more than to hear how good he’s making your body feel. However, he doesn’t need verbal confirmation from you to know that you’re about to cum. When your walls seize and clamp around his fingers, when you’re trembling around his head, Minho knows what that means. 

The quick drag of his fingers is only light work for him, pumping at a pace that has you panting to try and keep up with it. As a result, it’s not long before Minho brings you to your sweet release; a toe-curling burst of euphoria that has you silently creaming around his fingers. 

He has no patience for you to descend from your orgasm, sucking his fingers clean as he pulls away from your pussy. He gets to unbuckling his belt faster than he can even comprehend that this is still happening. 

“H-Hurry,” you whine, trying to quell the hunger for Minho’s cock while you wait.

His eyes squeeze shut, hissing as he coats his length with your slick, “shut the fuck up.”

Despite being in a haze post-orgasm, you manage to sit up quickly to turn and push Minho down by his shoulders. You find yourself straddling his hips once more, reaching down and behind for his cock, aligning it with your hole. Minho allows you to work for it yourself, watching his cock vanish by the second as you sink down. 

“Mmm…f-fuck,,” you whine, unable to come to grips with how much you miss him filling you out. 

Taking a couple of slow strokes up and down allows you to realise that never in your wildest dreams could you ever imagine hate sex with Minho would be this…rough. Both of you pushing, shoving, and manhandling each other around, speaking to each other with such disregard for the other person's feelings – beyond the point of degradation.

“Come on,” Minho grunts, fingernails embedding themselves into your hips so that the indents remaining become as equally as vibrant as the hickies blooming on your neck. 

You look down at him with disgust before your hand lowers to his throat, choking him out by the sides of his neck. That familiar feeling of restriction to Minho forces him to repress his sick enjoyment of it, even more so when you start really riding him. 

“Fuck you,” you strain out, trying to assert some degree of control even though you’re battling with oversensitivity from your previous orgasm. 

You slam your hips down repeatedly, building up a good pace and rhythm that’s enough for small moans to force their way out of your mouth. With a cock like Minho’s, it’s impossible to keep quiet no matter how much you try. However, as you work for your own orgasm, you don’t want to give him any satisfaction by making him think that he’s the one doing it; yet in reality, he is. 

Nonetheless, you continue to use him just as much as he’s using you until the luxury of pleasure accelerates in the pit of your stomach. In saying that, it doesn’t take long for Minho to find that information out as you continue to ride him. The observation is clear-cut;

“Nobody’s fucked you since me haven’t they?” He asks you breathlessly, watching you roll your hips deliciously over his cock. “Know how I can tell? Because you keep fucking clenching around my dick.”

Your eyebrows furrow, struggling to find an answer for him because he is right and that’s not your fault, “s-so what? Want me to stop?” 

“Didn’t say that, did I?” He argues back, too proud to say ‘no’. “Just…just keep moving.”

A firm hand of yours catches his taut jaw, and while his mouth is open, you lean down and spit right in it. 

You curse right at him, “fuck you.” 

His eyes lock with yours and for a moment, Minho is shocked, but not in a bad way. In that moment you despised him so much that he made you do something a normal person would find disgusting. Although it’s not long before a sick smirk spreads across his face, failing to pretend as if he didn’t just enjoy that, swallowing it back. 

“Course you’d be into that you fucking whore,” he rasps, his body jolting every time your hips slam down. 

“I’m not the whore who’s taking it,” you snipe back at him. 

Your comment riles Minho, resulting in him nearly bucking you off his body before flipping you onto your stomach. He yanks both of your hands behind your back as something for him to latch onto when he pushes his cock back into you, and starts fucking hard and fast. 

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” you whimper, eyes fluttering shut. 

The new angle makes his dick slip in just that extra bit deeper, achieving a sensation which you miss all too much. With the amount of relentlessness that Minho puts behind his thrusts is nothing but a fast, brutal, and unforgiving type of fucking. He’s not holding back with you, no matter how much you hate him and he hates you, he will fuck you to tears.

“Such a fucking slut,” he drives forward nastily. “Needy, loud, slut.” 

Your choked moans and whimpers are typical responses to hearing him call you that name again. In bed, if you weren’t his lover, you were his slut. Minho wouldn’t care less if the bed broke beneath him trying to fuck you like the whore you always wanted him to treat you as. But it was phenomenal.  

Now, that’s only a distant memory clawing to come back. 

“Make me cum…make me fucking cum,” you demand, acknowledging how close you are to the cliff of ecstasy.

Minho's breathing picks up from hearing the pure desperation in your voice, and so does his pace. His only release is not but a minute away, respecting that and also his motive to continue rearranging your guts. 

Yet the possibility of keeping up any longer draws to a short term. Minho’s hold on your wrists behind your back becomes a solid death grip with no chance of escape until the wet heat from your pussy has his hips jumping out of rhythm. 

His head tilts to the sky, the pleasure screaming at him from the base of his cock, “y-yes, fuck I'm cumming.”

At that very instant, Minho’s release rocks him over. His hands let go of yours in lieu of grabbing onto your ass instead. The pain and sting of his fingernails scraping deep into your flash forces strained whimpers and mewls from your throat, helping to push you over the verge of your second orgasm. 

“Y-Yes, cumming, oh fuck-” you cry out with a shaky voice, stiffening while your hole seizes rhythmically around Minho’s length. 

The pleasure is throat-gripping, making you forget the words to express how good you feel. Except, in the vapour of your orgasmic haze, you still don't want to accept the fact that it's Minho who makes you feel that way.

He pauses for a moment then thrusts hard back into you, making you keep the warm load that you were so undeservingly given, regardless if your walls are spasming and contracting it out. Then just as he was fast to try to get inside you, he's just as fast when he pulls out and flops beside you.

The air in the room becomes breathable again now that your heart rate isn't racing to the heavens, but picks back up quickly when you decide to hop off the bed and get dressed. You couldn't care less if you were sore and unbalanced. The thought of staying in the room with Minho any longer was suffocating.

“About your stuff,” he starts, filling the silent void with an exasperated voice. “I’ll try to get it back.” 

You zip your jeans up, “don’t bother. I know you did give it away for whatever reason, but for what reason is something I’m betting you’ll take to the grave with you.” 

Minho is up and now following suit by putting his clothes on. If now is the time to get one thing off of his chest, it’s now. Since the day you both separated, there has been no proper conversation. Both of you are too stubborn to admit wrongs and fix rights, but in your eyes, it's too far gone. There’s no going back to a good thing that was once more. 

"I won't if we can just talk it out," he offers the opportunity to you.

“Minho, the nights that I had to listen to you fuck someone else in the next room right after we just broke up was a clear sign that we did not need to talk it out. All it made me do is realise that you didn't actually love me."

“That’s not true,” he shakes his head as you hear a twinge of desperation in his voice like he's pleading his case. "That's not true at all."

"It is though," you correct him. "You were free to sleep with whoever you wanted to because we had broken up at that point, but not a day after that did you wait."

Minho follows through with his explanation, “I was trying to get you out of my head. Spending too long just thinking about you makes me want to lose it. It didn't mean that I never loved you before."

“So you’re just going to continue being delusional? To fuck your way through trying to forget me?” You question, nearly laughing. "I honestly think you're just being pathetic."

He shrugs, “if it means that I don’t have to feel heartbreak, then yes.”

Part of you gets it. Minho’s found a vice and is using it as a tool to deal with his pain. But you’re in pain too, and you haven’t done anything to upset him ever since you split. Maybe it is as bad for him as he says it is. Maybe he doesn’t truly know how to navigate himself out of this like you’re attempting to.

It’s almost a rebuttal to your statement about whether he truly loved you or not; if he’s using other people to drive the thought of you out of his brain because it’s too painful to deal with, then maybe you were more than just a lover to him. 

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I cannot stand being around you anymore because of how much it hurts to know that you're not actually with me. I'd rather try to forget your existence in order to not feel that type of heartbreak," Minho explains, his words coming from a place inside him that must've just opened up.

But he continues, "the second we split, I needed every last memory of you out of this house. But I know that this hurts you too and that this past month I’ve hurt you and that’s no justification to say that my reason is because you mean more than my entire life.”

There’s an ache in your chest that you’ve never felt before, a blend of all the emotional pain that could’ve been prevented had the two of you just talked. But that ache is fuelled by the fact that you can hear the waiver in Minho’s voice, and even though his back is still turned to you while he sits on the edge of the bed, you’re sure he’s crying.

-

A/N: Dare I say that I want to make a part 2 to this where Minho and reader try to rekindle, things are pretty tender but they sort of want to make it work...

[this-acuteneurosis]

I just found Don't look back (and first of all I love it, you are brilliant, I am barely finished the first fic but I am invested) and I spent some time digging through your tumbler for mentions of obi-wan/leia....because from these beginning interactions I have sense something and I am now invested and kinda confused????

Was this intentional...? Is this going somewhere...? There are no tags for their relationship but by other asks I see on your blog I'm not alone in this thinking.....

I hope she finds happiness. In the beginning I was hoping for some warped way for Han to join her because I love them together so much, but I also do love obi-wan and I am pleasantly hooked on their relationship now

I've answered asks similar to this before, but I keep getting them and we're far enough into the story that I think I can say some things more certainly without spoiling anything, or the plot magically changing on me. So here we go.

So. Like Fire in Our Bones. Leia and Obi-Wan meet for the first time, and I was happy with the scene, and then I posted the chapter and a whole mess of people popped out of the ground were like, "Romance?!?!?!" Keep in mind that this was before the Kenobi show was released as well, so we had no canon where Leia knew Obi-Wan as a child. DLB runs under that assumption.

So I was all, "Oh, surprise," but I'm a very ship and let ship sort of person, and once people pointed it out, I was like, yeah. Sure. They can have this vibe. They would, honestly. I've got a pretty strong head canon that Obi-Wan has been flirting to survive for decades at this point, and Leia is socially savvy enough to roll with that kind of behavior as long as it's not distasteful. She also saves him, and they bond, and I don't have a problem with people reading into that. I think it's reasonable. It's pretty textual at this point.

HOWEVER.

Once upon a time I also thought this story would be 200k words, max. I thought Leia would end the series having reconciled that Anakin wasn't Vader, but wouldn't be close to him. I though Satine would never make an appearance and Cody would be the first clone to like Leia instead of the last, and yeah. A lot of things started changing once I was actually writing the story.

At the beginning of the story, I knew I didn't want to write Leia a romance. A) because I wasn't sure who it should be with and, B) that was way past the where I expected her to be healing wise in her grief. But the story kept getting longer and she and Obi-Wan kept having moments, and I was like, I mean...maybe? Maybe something happens? I can't say no for sure anymore.

BUT!

We're far enough into the story now and I have a much better sense of how this last arc is going to handle the remaining grief Leia is dealing with, and also how much time she'll spend with Obi-Wan. I have no intention of doing a romance for her in this arc. Look how long it took me to get Anakin and Padmé together. We do not have time for that. So I've left Leia with no romantic pairing tags. Officially, the story will not be about her having a committed, happy, healing romantic relationship at this point. It will be about what it always was: cooperation and unity beating back the darkness, and how you have to fight for those things so you don't lose them when you need them most.

But if it makes your heart happy to imagine that all the remaining scenes with her and Obi-Wan are a prelude to something that happens later, feel free to enjoy them that way. Write as much of your own fic or draw as much of your own art as you want. Feel free to share it with me too. I've enjoyed reading the other divergent fics people have done of this story.

Just everyone, please be nice to each other. :)

[lemotmo]

Oh hey I like this. Yes let it be This

Q. I'm sorry but what would be the point of faking the entire thing resulting in massively pissing off your audience twice?

A. I do think there's a purpose to what they're doing. I also think the execution of it could have been much better. But regardless of flaws, we're here now so here's what I think the point of the entire thing will end up being. I think Bobby will return, but I think what they've done is signal that he won't return in the same capacity or role he originally occupied. Peter himself has said, more than once, that he's no longer up for doing the rigorous stunt stuff, and he has mentioned the long hours taking a toll. I think this whole thing is a changing of the guards of sorts for the show. Bobby will return, but not as captain. Peter will return, but not as the main focus. I think it's the beginning of shifting the spotlight to the other characters. It's kay to let the other characters take center stage now. And allowing the other characters to believe Bobby is dead is also a good way to get some movement in their individual storylines before he returns to the land of the living. Storylines that have been neglected or ignored all together so the show can focus on disaster episodes which neglect much needed character driven episodes. All of these characters have value in their own right but most of the time they get relegated to the sidelines in favor of focusing on the same things over and over again.

Bobby's 'death' would be a devastating reminder that life is short and people aren't promised tomorrow, a regular theme on this show. Grief is a strong motivational tool for life changes. And an excellent way to move storylines forward. Hen is ready and more than capable of being captain. It's probably something she should have been seeking for a while, but it was Bobby's rightful place. Gerard being in the captain chair is not something that the 118, or the audience for that matter, will allow to become permanent. It's the perfect opportunity for Hen to go for something she has more than earned and proved she can handle. Chimney has come such a long way since season one. He is a husband and father and has become a really good firefighter and paramedic. it's time to let him assume a stronger presence and leadership role within the 118. He's more than comic relief and Maddie's husband. That brings us to tweedle dee and tweedle dumb (you can decide for yourself which one is which 😉). But losing Bobby is the perfect catalyst to jolt that storyline into motion. Eddie needs a reason to examine things. Buck is primed and ready but the show has to get Eddie to the same place before Buck can be allowed to acknowledge what he's avoided since episode 11. Eddie has already lost Shannon. Adding the loss of Bobby would be a major 'the universe is screaming at you' reason for Eddie to finally allow himself to listen to and acknowledge what he really wants for himself in this life.

Bobby's 'death' allows all of that to happen. It allows major character movement and growth for everyone, That's what I think the point of this whole thing is. Moving Bobby's kids into the next phases of their lives. It's fitting. It makes sense and it allows the show to enter into its next phase. Bobby will still be present and important, but the spotlight will shift to his kids.

Thank you Nonny!

Yep, I reblogged a post earlier that had the same sentiment. I fully agree and I honestly couldn't have said it better than this.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[ballroamblitz]

caramel pie | J.P

summary: james smells caramel pie on the amortentia potion

james potter x fem!reader

word count: 3.750 content: teeth rotting fluff, angst warnings: crying, reader blushes notes: one thing about me is i love me some amortentia fic with a side of james fluff ughh also i listened to glue song by beabadoobee while writing this :) p.s i accidentally posted this on my side acc so if anyone wanna be mutuals my main blog is @beastofbrden :)

- Someone please, kindly remind me why I decided that continuing Herbology after the O.W.Ls was a good idea? - Y/N huffed out, sitting at the Gryffindor table for lunch.

The four boys sitting around her laughed. 

- Learned a lot today, uh? - Sirius asked, ironically. 

- Oh yeah, loads! We had to feed toad flesh to those terrible toad-eating plants. For some reason, mine just didn't feel like eating it without regurgitating it all back on me! 

The boys went hysterics, and even the girl couldn't help but laugh along. 

- There's still a little piece there - James pointed. - Here, let me take it out for you.

He took out a small chunk of toad flesh off her hair. 

- Well, may I remind you, Y/N, that no one told you to keep up with Herbology. We all dipped from it while we could and no one else has pieces of toad on our hair - Sirius noted, clearly getting a good laugh out of the girl's toad disaster.

- I just didn't want to hurt Sprout's feelings! 

She sighed and brushed her hair with her fingers, only then looking at the food in front of her.

- Merlin, I'm starving! Could eat anything right now.

- Even toad? - Remus joked, sending the group on another laughing crisis.

By the time of dessert, Y/N started scanning the table for something. Clearly not finding it, her panic started showing. 

- Oh no. Where's the caramel pie? 

- They didn't serve any today - James replied, needing all the strength on his body to stay deadpanned. The other three boys were deep in conversation, and him being the one sitting closer to Y/N (as always) only he noticed the girl's agitation. 

- What??? What do you mean they didn't serve any? In the six years I've been here they never not served it and I can't believe they chose today to…

- I'm just joking - James pulled a plate that was hidden behind the steak pudding, smiling playfully at the girl - Saved it for ya.

- James! I would go mad if they stopped serving this pie, y'know! - she let out a relieved breath. 

- Nah, don't worry. They will keep serving it, or I would fight the elfs for ya. 

- One day I’ll hide your figgy pudding, then we’ll see.

- You wouldn’t dare, missy.

James watched with a soft look on his eyes as the girl took the first bite of her favorite dessert.

- Thank you for saving me a piece, Jamie - she leaned her head on his shoulder for a moment to show gratitude. When she got closer, he smelled the vanilla scent of her hair and the caramel pie on her lips.

After lunch, the five went straight to Slughorn's classroom. 

- Good evening, dears, good evening! Now if you could get up and get closer, I want to show you something!

The whole class shifted near the table Slughorn was sitting behind. 

- Here, we have a very special potion. - He pointed towards a bubbling caldron full of a crystal clear liquid - Very tricky to make, very characteristic and perhaps one of the most dangerous we can brew. Can anyone tell me it's name?

Y/N's hand rose in the air.

- Yes, ms. Y/L/N. 

- It's Amortentia, or simply the love potion. Since true love can't really be produced by any sort of magic, it causes more of a crush or an obsession. 

- Correct. Ten points to Gryffindor! - Slughorn smiled.

- Nerd - James whispered,  messing up Y/N’s hair.

- Sod off, Potter.

- You see, one of the most intriguing things about Amortentia is its scent. Everyone smells something different, because its scent is completely dependent on what each person feels personally attracted to. Now, who wants to come forward and tell me what it smells like? 

No one volunteered. No wonder, since it's a very particular thing to simply say in front of a whole classroom.

- No one? I'll pick someone then. Let me think... - Slughorn scanned the faces around. - Ah! Mr. Potter, you will do. 

James was caught by surprise. He had been distracted by the warmth radiating off Y/N, that was almost resting her head on his chest. 

- Me? - he asked and pointed towards himself.

- Of course you! Is there any other Mr. Potter?

The whole class laughed as James stepped closer, his signature boyish grin splashed on his face. 

- Now Mr. Potter, lean in and smell the potion.

James ran his hands through his hair and did as told. One single sniff and his smile fell off his face completely. The scent was unmistakable: vanilla and caramel pie. Vanilla body cream, caramel pie for dessert, everyday. He had the urge to see if Y/N wasn't standing next to him, but he knew she hadn't moved from across the table. He knew he had to lie. If he said what it smelled like to him, everyone would know it was Y/N's smell.  

- So, Mr. Potter. Whenever you are ready to share. 

He looked at where Y/N was. She was looking at him, just as well as everyone else. She looked relaxed, the potion's glow making her look specially pretty, angel-like. Think of something, fast. Something not at all related to what you are really smelling, something like...

- It’s wood and broomstick polisher.

- Very well then Mr. Potter. Looks like you've got a thing for Quidditch, uh?

The class laughed, and everyone looked convinced. James Potter, Quidditch captain, smelling broomstick polisher and wood? Fitting. James high-fived himself for his quick thinking, and let out a relieved sight. Now, no one would go around thinking the wrong things. 

Later that night, in the common room, however, the potions class was almost burning a hole through James' head. Slughorn said Amortentia smelled of what attracted each person the most.  Attraction was romantic, sexual attraction. But Slughorn had been pretty vague, hadn't he? He could've meant attraction in any context. It could mean anything. It could mean platonic love, right? If Slughorn didn't think much of James smelling Quidditch, it probably meant it could smell of anything the person liked a lot, right? But it was a love potion. That caused passion. And Slughorn said he had a thing for Quidditch. A thing. But he didn't have a thing for Y/N! He loved her, of course. Everyone knew she was his best friend, they did everything together and she was probably his favorite person in the world. Yeah, maybe he went to extreme lengths to see her happy, and yeah, maybe he was a bit too affectionate with her, but she was his best friend.

- Can't do homework anymore. - James was ripped off his thoughts by Y/N's presence. She threw her backpack at the ground in front of the sofa he was in and layed down - My brain feels like mush.

James looked at her. Her head was resting on his lap, and she looked extremely comfortable. That was obvious, since they always had been this affectionate towards each other. They both were very touchy people, and it felt natural to be in constant physical contact. James was always happy, eager even, to be like this with her. In a platonic way. Obviously. Today, however, her skin on his felt like it burned. 

- How was it? - James asked, coughing to conceal the way his voice failed a bit in the first word.

- Homework? Awful. It's not that difficult, but it's too much. And it just seems pointless, you know? What will I actually learn from writing 19 inches about toad eating plants? Nothing, I tell you what! - The girl sighed and closed her eyes again - Just wanna go to sleep, really.

He didn't know what to answer. He normally would have made a joke about the plants, added more criticism about essays or something. But he didn’t even do his homework, with how paranoid he was. For the first time ever, he was completely speechless in her presence. Her eyelashes were resting peacefully on her pink cheeks. The light from the fireplace made her skin look more flushed, and her hair had a golden glow to it. She looked awfully pretty. James knew that, of course. She had always been pretty. But tonight.. when she moved her head a little bit, he smelled the amortentia smell. Vanilla and caramel pie, just as strong as it was that afternoon. 

- You are way too quiet today, Jamie. - She opened her eyes and he felt something weird in the pit of his stomach  - Ate too much pudding? 

- Yeah, probably. 

She stretched and yawned, sending another wave of vanilla and caramel pie to James' nostrils. 

- Going to bed - she got up. Her hair was messy and the light from the fireplace behind her looked like a halo. - Night, Jamie.

She lowered herself and pecked his cheek lightly. 

- Sleep well - her soft voice was way too close to his ear, turning James' legs into jelly. 

He watched her going up the stairs to the dormitory, and the place she had kissed burned long after she was gone. 

He had no reason to be this nervous for the potions class the next morning. Slughorn had already moved on from amortentia, since it was a difficult, dangerous and time-consuming potion to make, but James was half hoping the potion would be brought up again, and half hoping everyone would collectively forget about it completely. Slughorn didn't mention the potion again, moving on directly to Felix Felicis. He watched the whole class on the edge of his seat. He had decided he would ask the teacher about the potion just to calm himself down. Just to make sure. Everyone had been really concentrating on making the best draught of living death the whole period, but James just wanted the class to end so he could ask Slughorn and stop eating himself alive.  

- Alright, alright. Congratulations mr. Snape on your draught. Truly outstanding! - Slughorn said, raising a round of applause - Class dismissed!

Everyone started to gather their backpacks and leave, but James made sure to stay back. He pretended to be very interested in a weird type of algae that Slughorn kept in a little ampoule. Just a few more moments and then he'll say that no, I don't have romantic feelings for Y/N and that i just really like caramel pie or something, and then i'll stop going mental... 

- Gillyweed. - Slughorn’s voice dragged James off of his daydreams 

- Uh? - James frowned in confusion, wondering what the teacher was talking about.

- The algae you're looking at, Mr. Potter. Gillyweed. Helps the person breathe underwater. 

- Oh, yeah, right. Professor Slughorn, I was wondering if I could ask you something.

- Sure, my boy, ask away - Slughorn encouraged while distractingly stacking some parchments.

- I was wondering… about the Amortentia potion.

Slughorn stopped his movements and lifted his eyes directly to James. 

- Oh, I see - He looked very amused, for some reason. - What were you wondering?

- Let's just say a friend of mine smells it and it reminds him of someone. It could smell like someone he just truly cares about, couldn't it? Like, it doesn't necessarily mean he's in love with the person that the scent reminds him of, right? 

Slughorn's lopsided smile grew bigger.

- I'm afraid, no, my boy. 

- What? - James felt like the classroom got three times smaller and hotter by the minute - But I smelled wood and polishing oil, and I'm not in love with a broom, am i? 

- Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter... - Slughorn chuckled. - I think we both know you didn't smell any of that. 

James felt his face getting warm and red. 

- But, if you did, that would mean you have a crush on a Quidditch player, let's just put it like that. Amortentia is a very strong love potion, and we can only smell things in it that romantically attract us very deeply. Those of us that aren't in love with anyone would smell something quite abstract. But if this friend of yours smelled amortentia and recognized the scent as someone's, then boy do I have news for him. Does this answer your question? 

      - Hm, yeah, sure. - James agreed. He felt like he was gonna fall down from the absurd speed at which his mind was racing. - Thank you, Professor.

- Anytime. - James began to leave, completely out of it. - Oh, and Mr. Potter?

- Yes? - James turned around, hopeful that Slughorn would start laughing and admit he was joking.

- Tell your friend I wish him the best of luck with this new, blossoming love. 

As James went out of the classroom and up into the common room, he deeply regretted not stealing that ampoule of gillyweed and swallowing it whole. That way, he could spend the rest of his days in the black lake with the merpeople. I bet amortentia wouldn't smell like anything down there, he thought. 

For the rest of the week, James spent every waking hour trying to not think about what Slughorn said and what it meant, and he was succeeding. He kept himself busy with classes, Quidditch and even homework. He also did his absolute best to avoid everyone. He ate before anyone else and made sure he was far away from the great hall by the time he knew Y/N and the rest of the Marauders would go down to eat. In classes, he sat very distant and left early. He even pulled some pranks he didn't even feel like pulling on Filch to get detention in the nights he couldn't schedule Quidditch practices. He walked the halls in the invisibility cloak. Anything to keep his thoughts away from the big fire alarm going off inside his head. The only problem was that he missed Y/N in all of those moments. When he was doing homework, he missed the sound of Y/N's pen scratching the parchment next to him. While he ate, he missed the warmth of her body next to his, the satisfaction humming while she ate her pie . He missed laying down together after homework. He missed seeing her on the stands at practice. He even realized that the real fun in pranks wasn't the actual thing, but to see Y/N laughing hysterically afterwards. To put it quite simply, it felt like he was sleep walking all the time. He couldn’t go on avoiding her forever, but what he was gonna do, he had positively no idea.

Until Friday night.

It was late, and he had been in detention. Filch had made him write “I shall not turn the school’s trophies into pigeons” a hundred times, and his hand was hurting from all the repetitive writing. Normally, he would have complained, but this time, he was glad for the distraction. Enjoying detention, he thought bitterly while crossing the fat lady, I must be really going mad. His grouchy thoughts were interrupted by a sound. It sounded like.. crying. Or better yet, it sounded like someone was sobbing their heart out. He looked around the empty common room, but didn’t see anyone. He followed the sound to the sofa near the fireplace, where he and Y/N always rest after studying. Before you turned into a chicken. 

Y/N was laid on the sofa, her face buried in a cushion, her whole body shaking with her sobs. James was flooded with panic.

- Y/N, baby, what happened? - he cooed, his voice altered with anxiety. Y/N never cried, except when something very serious happened.

Y/N looked up like she thought she was seeing visions. 

- Jamie? - her voice was soft and shaky, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot red, like she had been crying for multiple hours. The hurt on her eyes broke James’ heart in a thousand pieces. 

His mind raced with possibilities: maybe someone was mean to her? Maybe someone died? Maybe she was hurt? The thought of her being in pain panicked him even further. He sat down and pushed her into his lap, laying her head on his shoulder. 

- Are you hurt, baby? Where does it hurt? Please, tell me. 

She cried violently on his shoulder. He inspected her legs for bruises, but she seemed well physically. 

- Y/N, tell me what’s wrong, I can’t stand to see you like this - he begged. -  Did someone hurt you?

The question seemed to trigger something on the girl, because suddenly she was on her feet, out of his arms. 

- Did someone hurt me? Seriously? - the tears streamed down her face, but her eyes glimmered with something new: anger.

James was confused, to say the least. He noticed that she was wearing one of his old sweaters, one that had vanished from his suitcase a few weeks ago. 

- Baby...- he begged some more.

She looked as if he had twisted a knife on her wound.

- Don’t you dare “baby” me, James. Not after ignoring me like the plague for a whole week! 

Oh. Oh. James had been so involved with his own confusion regarding the amortentia incident that he forgot almost completely that Y/N didn’t know what he was doing, or why. She was crying because he hurt her feelings. That was a lot worse than if she was crying because of another person: he could’ve gone out to kick said jerk’s ass. But if he hurt her, what was he supposed to do? Punch himself? 

-Y/N - he cooed, apologetically. - Y/N, I…

She showed him her palm, urging him to stop talking.

- You don’t have to explain wanting to be away from me. I’m sure you had your reasons. But you could have at least told me that you wanted some space from me, or something, because I’ve been miserable, and…

She thought he wanted space from her. The sorrowful shaky breath that escaped her lips mid-sentence threw him over the edge. 

- No, no, no… - he repeated while pushing her back into his lap - Oh my god, Y/N, no…

He caressed her hair while she sobbed violently on his shoulder. Her fists were closed tightly on his shirt, her tears dampened his neck, and he couldn’t recall the last time his heart ached this badly.

- Did I do something? Did I bother you? I’m so sorry.. - she whispered softly, like she was voicing what had been repeating in her head over and over again during the last few days. Her words were laced with anger, resentment, but, above all, hurt. He wanted to double over in pain.

- Listen - James lifted her chin up gently, forcing her to look into his eyes. - I’m the one who’s sorry. 

The tears kept coming, but she was listening.

- I shouldn’t have avoided you last week, and it’s not your fault, okay? It’s my fault. I’m the one who got scared. 

She looked confused.

- Scared? Of me? 

James would have to confess what happened at Slughorn’s class. He had given zero thought about his messy feelings, and even though unraveling them in front of Y/N scared him endlessly, he would have to do it, because he could never let her think that he wanted space from her. That he wanted anything but to be close to her, at all times, if he could. 

- Please - she asked, incisively, noticing his wariness. - Tell me.

He took a deep breath, feeling vulnerable, raw. As if he would undress himself fully in front of her.

- Remember Slughorn’s class about amortentia? - Y/N nodded, encouraging him to move on - He asked me to smell it, right, and I…

- You said it smelled like broom polisher. 

- Well, yes. But I lied. - he decided to avert his gaze to the ceiling, or else he would never talk. - It was caramel pie and vanilla cream. So, I smelled… you.

Silence. A moment, two. He couldn’t muster the courage to look at the girl. He felt her hand grazing his cheek, urging him to look at her.. 

- Jamie… - She looked wonderstruck, and his heart seemed like it wanted out of his chest - Really?

- Really.

James was sure he’d never seen something as beautiful as Y/N after his response. She was smiling the biggest, most shiny smile he had ever seen on her face. Her eyes shined like gemstones at him, so soft he wanted to cry.

- Do you want to know what I smelled? - she asked, soft as a feather. 

His heart somersaulted when she brought her face closer to the side of his neck. She whispered on his ear:

- I smelled… - She sniffed his neck once - Sandalwood - another sniff, followed by a chuckle  - Broomstick polisher…

She distanced herself, looking deep into his eyes.

- And homework parchment. And fireplace naps. And figgy pudding.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage. Y/N smelled him. On the amortentia potion. Him.

- Y/N - James whispered, all warm and fuzzy on the inside. - Really?

She didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand, the warmth and softness of her skin overwhelming his senses. Placed his hand on top of the point of her chest where her heart was. Through the fabric of his shirt, he could feel her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's. She never unglued her soft eyes from his. 

She likes him. Suddenly, all the thoughts he had been avoiding throughout the week came crashing down on him, like a dam.

James was an affectionate friend. He liked physical touch. But he never liked it half as much as he did with her. James was a thoughtful friend. He remembered things about his friends. But he remembered every single thing about her. He was a sensitive friend. He hated to see his friends suffering. But every time he saw her cry, it was like his heart was being crushed. James was an attentive friend. He loved spending time with friends. But when he was away from her, he couldn’t even function properly, like he was missing one half of him. Y/N is his best friend. But she is more, too. He loves her. But there’s something else: he is in love.  Amortentia never lies, after all.

When his hands tangled on Y/N’s hair, he smelled vanilla cream. When he kissed Y/N’s lips, he tasted caramel pie.