#lena thoughts

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

I think I've said this before, but once Lena decides she's joining the Superfriends on the street, I think she would want to up her martial arts skills. Like she has self defense skills, probably krav maga training. But I think she might get into something more offensive.

I also like the idea of her getting into free running and/or parkour. I think she'd acknowledge the need for stamina, and also the need to traverse the city more creatively. And then once she starts, she likes the challenge and the outlet to push herself and return to her jock origins.

[miqolena]

I have come back to tumblr for a hot minute because I liked seeing the funny posts. and the nice posts.

half of the reason why my being on here wasn't sustainable was because I was obsessed with categorizing everything I reblogged or posted with tags, but I could never remember what my tags were, so I never reblogged anything, so what was the point, etc. I am going to stop stressing about it. I am going to stop tagging anything when I don't feel like doing it (unless it's a cw or something obviously but I don't tend to post things that need cws anyway).

I'm also going to stop worrying so much about keeping this blog ffxiv-only. it'll be ffxiv with other funny posts and nice posts. not really any other fandoms to any massive degree but definitely stuff other than ffxiv sometimes.

thanks ok.

[pomidaea]

Thank you encyclopedia

[atomicjellyb3an]

Kara leaned in

Three years since the phenomenon that was “Kara leaned in” and we still have no explanation for it

You had to be there. It was trending on Twitter.

[lena-thinks-too-much]

It is so, so important to me that people understand that Tim didn't figure out the bats because Dick was a "Show off". Like yes, Dick Grayson is the most flamboyant, dramatic ass man you will ever meet.

But the quadruple somersault? There's no way that was because dick was just showing off. Because you're telling me Bruce Wayne, who's so committed to hiding his identity that he literally acts like a completely different person out of the mask in public just to ward suspicion, would miss the fact that Robin regularly uses the flying Grayson's trademark move? There's literally no way.

In the comics we see Tim explain his deductive process to Dick and Alfred and they're both surprised impressed whatever. We don't see him explain it to Bruce. I think Bruce would be surprised and shocked that a 9 year old was able to put the pieces together but I don't think he'd be surprised that the quadruple somersault gave it away.

So if Bruce was possibly aware of such an obvious give away, why let it continue?

I'll tell you why.

It really comes down to the physics

So Dick was 9 when he started out right? That means the most he'd have likely weighed was 43kgs or roughly 95lbs in freedom units.

But Dick and both of his parents are gymnasts who tend to be smaller. So he was likely less than that.

In physics, rotating objects build up angular momentum (this is how bikes stay up right for example). The more rotation, the more momentum. And objects with less mass build up that momentum much faster than those that are heavier.

Robin constantly has to fight people who are nearly 3 times his size. I teach 8 year olds, they're tiny. A quadruple somersault for a small boy that weighs less than a hundred pounds is a brutal weapon. Especially if you add in the acceleration from gravity as he drops in from above.

And I can guarantee you this logic tracks because Dick literally utilizes this idea, without the somersault, in the 2009 teen titans cartoon.

Yeah, that's right. We're talking about the infamous knee drop.

Like it is borderline savage. Add in a quadruple somersault and the resulting force is nearly fatal. It's likely the main reason Batman would ever allow him to do it with the cape on.

Also, Dick landing feet first on the penguin in the first image probably gave the guy severe back issues

[arayeee]

OKAY. Hear me out. I’ve been thinking about this since my anon asked me.

A huge headcanon I have about Lena.

She’s not the touchy feely type. Except when it comes to Supergirl and Kara. BEFORE SHE KNOWS. But it always seemed odd to her how she was okay with the little touches from Supergirl after she saved her or they were on a joint project. And of course, Kara Danvers. She willingly started initiating hugs between them after she got used to Kara’s affection. AND WHEN SHE FOUND OUT, she was distraught because she could no longer experience the touches that she craved and yearned for. The arms she felt most safe in, no longer wrapped around her. MY GOD WHEN THEY MADE UP THOUGH. The touches increased immensely. She got her safety and comfort back and SHE THRIVED.

[excessive-levels-of-lesbianism]

yes, i am a sucker for a wlw ship with a woman born from a wealthy family and grew up to be a rebel and her golden retriever wife that is muscular who is usually headcannoned as an impulsive jock when they are actually not.

but i am tired of people saying that blake, caitlyn, asami, and lena are people who follow the laws strictly when they canonly do not and have done tons of reckless and impulsive things.

don't get me started on their partners who are treated like the female version of a himbo when they are actually smart women that just have muscles and are actually sensible (and sort of motherly? not sure if that's the right term i'm looking for) and just a character full of love who have more experience with children since they grew up with kids or siblings that isn't deranged (mb lex luthor)

[raiain]

THE GAMGGGGG

(left to right: sam, alice, celia, gwen)

[obliviouskara]

there's just something about kara's unwavering loyalty towards lena even when they disagree on certain things or even when they are in the middle of a heated argument, if lena's safety is on the line - she drops everything and automatically switches to protective mode. lena's safety is always her top priority. she doesn't even question if lena's in the right or wrong or doesn't wait for the facts laid out on her. it's not about who's right or wrong. she's automatically on lena's side. and it's not even supergirl kara who protects EVERYONE. she has this special kind of persona that comes out when lena's in danger. she's not a hero because we know when it comes to lena's safety, she will choose lena's safety over the entire world. it's like a combination of both. or maybe kara zor-el comes out. it's just an overprotective alien who will do anything for the love of her life and that's just the most beautiful and gayest shit i've ever seen. i love these idiots.

[fairy-lenaa]

do you ever just feel like you want to cry so you try to look for fanfics that will make you sob- not like crying softly but full ON breaking down like losing your shit cry. Me personally- I’m obsessed with storylines where the reader is just shoved off to the side- like no one cares and slowly people just start to notice and care. Then this causes like reader to lose their shit, and have a full on breakdown. I do NOT want those storylines where they have so much potential- as in the character is ABSOLUTELY terrible to the reader and they just forgive the character so easily like they didn’t do anything- covering it with a “happy ending”…. LIKE HAVE SOME BACKBONE PLEASE… GOSH.. but also I want the story to be heart ripping, mascara running down my eyes slow burn and if they do forgive each other- it has to be in an almost death situation, (like it needs to be giving understand by keshi or crybaby by the neighborhood) but if we’re talking about while reader is getting treated like DIRT it should be giving Lana del ray- needs to be angelically numbing. Anyways that’s it- just some random thoughts but if yall could be nice… can you drop some fanfics that made you sob… pretty please 🥹🙏

[kiarrahatesboys]

Realistically, today had been a good day. Most of Lena's technology worked perfectly, and any tweaks she needed to make went smoothly. Nia had bought her coffee. At a private moment around noon, Kara had kissed her cheek before flying off to do rounds on the city.

Lena, however, stands in the hallway of Kara’s apartment building wishing she could punch a hole or twelve into the drywall. Her keys - including the spare key to the loft that she had been given - fall out of her hand to the floor, and she feels the tension in her chest build.

It takes an eternal four seconds to pick them up, unlock the door, and step inside.

Kara stands by her kitchen sink, sipping from her purple water bottle. “Hi, baby.”

There is no will to look over and smile in response. Lena drops her purse on the floor and trudges straight to the bed. She falls face-first into it, feet dangling in the air.

All the blankets and abandoned clothes from this morning smell familiar. Lemon and woodsmoke – Kara. Lena likes to joke that the woodsmoke smell is because she flies so fast she burns up.

She can feel the furrow in her eyebrows, and what's worse is that she has no idea why it's there. It was a good day. She didn't even have to make a pit stop at Luthor Corp to put out any fires. There's nothing wrong.

The lack of explanation for her frustration makes her even more frustrated.

“Hey.” The mattress dips as Kara sits down. “Rough day?”

“No,” Lena says into blankets, suddenly near tears. She rolls over onto her back. “That's the thing, it was good. So why am I in meltdown territory?”

Kara’s hand is in her hair – soothing, home, safety. “I’m sorry. Let me help you?”

Lena nods, toeing off her shoes. They clatter to the floor. Kara offers her hands and pulls her into a sitting position. She helps Lena out of her day clothes and expertly offers the right pajamas. Good texture, good match, good breathability.

It takes a moment for her to start pulling them on as she prepares to go from stationary to in motion. The clean air surrounding her body after she changes helps to lessen the dread in her shoulders. Kara knows the little details to make her comfortable - hood up over her head, a fresh pair of socks. Once dressed, Lena flops over onto her side and curls up tight.

Kara leans over to kiss her head. She draws the curtains. The room becomes dark, and Lena feels her eyebrows relax. It’s a warm summer day outside, and the sun has made its presence clear. The darkness now dampening her vision offers peace.

“Do you want me around?” Kara asks, voice soft.

“Yes, please.” Lena sounds childlike. Her voice is fragile, muffled under her hands.

“Okay, scooch. Make room.”

Lena falls limp as a smile ghosts her face.

“Wow. Okay.” Kara heaves a dramatic sigh.

She feels Kara’s arms snake under her body. For a moment, she’s weightless, and then she’s gently set a foot or two over from where she was before. The mattress bounces again as Kara settles.

Lena reaches behind her to pull Kara's arm over her stomach and takes a deep breath.

“Good girl,” Kara says innocently.

“Hmm?”

“The deep breath. Proud of you.”

Lena’s body feels warm with love. “Thanks.”

The conversation lulls. Lena keeps breathing. Cool air keeps her temperature regulated under a hoodie and Kara’s body. Tension still weighs in her chest, but the accommodations matter. Kara doesn't even ask what she needs, she just knows. Lena barely has to move. She's surrounded by so much love.

“I wish I knew what was wrong.” she says into silence.

Kara hums, sounding sleepy and content.

“Like, nothing bad happened. I had a good day. Why do I feel like I want to implode?”

“You’re autistic, love.” Kara slips her hand beneath Lena’s hoodie to hold her tummy. “That happens. Sometimes there's no answer. I know you don't like that, I’m sorry.”

Lena hates how whiny she sounds. “But I want an answer! I want something to fix.”

“I know, baby.”

She sighs, then rolls over into Kara’s embrace. Having nothing to blame makes the situation feel unresolved. Agitation swirls in her gut, but she knows there's nothing to be done. Sometimes there are just days where the world is too much.

“Too much world.” Lena mumbles.

Kara puts a hand in her hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

As much as the lack of answer makes things unfinished, the hoodie helps. Having the hood up helps. She has clean socks and a dark room. Her girlfriend loves her, and is warm and solid against her.

Despite it all, she's loved. And that’s important too.

"Thank you." she whispers into darkness.

Kara scratches gently at her scalp. "Always, baby."

Always.

[russos-one]

I got the fattest crush on Lena Oberdorf

LIKE PLEASEEE SHES SO FINEAHHH

[miqolena]

My first-final thoughts on Dawntrail

My opinions and spoilers for the entirety of 7.0 under the cut.

Overall I enjoyed this expansion immensely. There was no point at which I thought to myself, "I can't wait for this part to be over," or "This is really dull," or "I want to move on to the next thing right now." There was no character I did not enjoy and feel at least something small for. Characters I kind of didn't like initially (Bakool Ja Ja mostly) ended up being some of the characters that I loved most. Wuk Lamat was a joy in her development. I wasn't annoyed by her initial faults and I liked that she retained some of them even at the end, after she had grown so immensely. Zoraal Ja's dimensions were revealed a little late into the game, but I had already sort of gotten a notion of them by the time that happened, so I didn't mind, and I find the idea of struggling with the legacy someone leaves you with the best of intentions to be really compelling. I adored Gulool Ja Ja to pieces. And Wuk Eva. And literally everyone else. I'm serious, there's no one I didn't like.

The area that affected me most was Living Memory, and if that was like kicking me in the shin, then Heritage Found was the winding back of the leg. I have dealt with my own losses in life and the whole thing with reusing souls and resurrecting people and preserving them based on their memories was grotesque to me. My loved ones are gone, and we had wonderful relationships and I loved them dearly, but I would never want to speak to them again. Because they are dead and should stay that way. But the scene with Wuk Lamat speaking her last words to Namikka was terribly upsetting because I couldn't help imagining the things I would say to my loved ones if I could see them again. It struck home with painful precision and there were tears.

The themes of love, legacy, war, redemption, death, and loss were poignant to me, and I think they were handled really well.

As for the encounter design, the dungeons were fairly difficult but I never died in a Trust run, so they must not have been too hard. Same with the trials. I can see myself doing these things over and over again without getting too tired of it for the next two or so years. The single player duties were great except for the one QTE in the duel with Gulool Ja Ja, which stressed my hands to the point of forcing me to take a break for a few hours.

For gathering, I appreciate the new action Revisit that the game added to the two gatherers, it's always exciting when it procs. Fisher seems to be sitting pretty too. I haven't done all of them yet but so far the Wachumeqimeqi quests have been great, and I haven't done any of the role quests yet, so no opinions there. For crafting, I haven't really delved into the potential of the new actions, but I know they're probably going to shake up the game a little.

Music was spot on as usual. The game's graphical update has done wonders for the visuals as well. I'm lucky in that I'm completely enamored with Lena's updated appearance; a lot of people aren't so happy. I hope that their concerns can be addressed over time.

This might be new expansion smell filling my head, but I think Dawntrail might be my favorite. I can't wait to see where they're going with this, the aftermath to the threads they made in the MSQ. I want more of these characters and places and I know I'm going to get it, and that's the most comforting feeling.

As for fic, though… I think it's going to be hard to put Gaius in there with Lena. The entire first half the WoL is providing a role of mentorship for Wuk Lamat and I'm going to have to think really hard about how I write the MSQ so that Gaius is there and not just nodding his head and going 🧍‍♂️. There are a few moments when I was playing where I thought to myself "Gaius could respond to this with something relevant to his character," like for example when Zoraal Ja remarks that the Empire was full of idiots, but those were just a few moments. It'll be hard to fit him in with the rest of it and depict the MSQ in a way that's both not boring/retreading what viewers have already seen to much while still getting the information of the plot AND my changes across. We'll see how it goes. I'm not super hankering to start, so we'll see when I get to that.

That's all. See you ingame!

[porcelainbirdss]

the mourning dove syndrome II

summary: love is a fragile thing. it is made of glass, just like the dove’s wings — it is in every fiber of your body, diluted with attachment, and desire. a beating heart, pumping the blood of creatures contaminated with so much devotion, their mouths cannot tell the difference between a kiss and a bite. it signifies — eat me down to my very bones.

cw: fem!reader, painter!reader, very suggestive towards the end and not suitable for minors, toxic interpersonal relations, cannibalism used as a metaphor, reader’s ego is fragile, good ending for our lovebirds. part 1 not necessary to read. || wc: 5k

your thought were currently in disarray — yes, that’s definitely the right adjective to describe whatever mayhem was going on in your mind.

ever since that charity banquet, and the events which unfolded once you decided to shut yourself in one room with Mydei, you’ve been rather lost. it was hard to say what you exactly felt, your emotions mixing together into one, ugly concoction, causing your bones to shudder with nerves. previously, you were absolutely sure that man was not of much importance to you — his remarkably eye-catching looks being the only thing that drew you towards his person. well, as it turns out, you might have been in the slightest of denials.

you’ve tried so hard to push back your feelings, but the opposites kept merging with themselves, all the fondness, and dismay, affection and hate. you shunned them tightly inside your own body, praying that maybe, just maybe if you hold the air in your lungs for long enough, they will dissipate with your next exhale.

unfortunately, this didn’t happen, and no matter how much you’ve distanced yourself from Mydei, your thoughts circled back to one thing — how tightly you’d have to hold him, in order to admit you weren’t doing this simply to feel warmth? how many nights you’d have to spend together before you realize friends don’t normally do such things, and you’ve gone too far? it genuinely drove you mad — that grim realization you actually had tenderness in your heart, harbored deep within your stone-cold walls. maybe you weren’t convinced of your love wholly, but it would happen eventually, and so there was no point in waiting for the impending doom.

he cared for you — and it was comparable to axes digging into your chest with muffled thuds, perfectly synchronized with the rapid beating of your heart as Mydei showcased any kind of attachment.

it drove you up the wall, pressing your body into its very corner, crushing every single ounce of your resolve to maintain your relationship as merely platonic (should you call it that with all the intimacy?). still, even if you decided to confess, how would you possibly do that? the man wouldn’t turn you down, of course — however, saying it straight to his face seemed almost trivial. perhaps, you could never bring yourself to do it. any time you pondered upon the topic, your gut clenched with an uncomfortable ache, and your pride smudged over the logical reasoning. if anything, he should be the one to admit his feelings first — after all, it was his fault for causing you such dilemmas.

alas, an idea born within your exceptionally brilliant brain, and your resolution was to do something about the current situation. you were not the best at communicating, so the only way out was to utilize one of your biggest talents — painting.

you tied the apron around your waist, sighing heavily as you felt the uneasy sensation of stress rubbing off against your spine for the first time in forever. you decided to invite Mydei over to your workplace, asking if he wanted to model again — he agreed, a bit reluctantly, but it was obvious to you he was only putting up a nonchalant facade. your plan was to make a portrait of him, and add symbols of love so apparent he wouldn’t be able to miss it. once he finally catches on to your hints, he’ll surely fall on his knees, and admit just how much he cherishes you.

well, the whole charade appeared much easier in your head, and now you were starting to regret it, but you were no coward — there was no way you’d back out now.

Mydei stepped into the spacious room, his keen eyes quickly examining everything before falling on your form, hunched above the palette in a deep thought as you tried to select the best colors.

he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "i’m convinced you were put in this world to torment me." the man sneered, though it lacked in any real bite.

"don’t start complaining now." you huffed out softly, your eyebrows knitting together in concentration. "you agreed to this, so be quiet."

you noticed him shrug, beginning to slowly roam around the space. "where do you want me to sit?" he asked. you wanted to whip around on your heel and smack him across the face for staring so intensely at your back.

"nowhere. i’m still preparing the composition, so entertain yourself." you answered bluntly, searching your brain for any adequate ideas.

you heard Mydei walk around, the sound of his golden leg armor resonating loudly in your ears, even if the steps were rather meek. "by the way, did you know that a certain someone is jealous of your attention?"

you chuckled dryly under your nose. "who?"

"Phainon.”

"what?" you glanced at him through your shoulder, genuine amusement lacing through your tone. now that was a surprise. you never suspected he, of all people, would feel jealousy towards you — or rather the object of your interest.

the man stopped in his tracks by a pile of your sketchbooks, and you turned your head back to the chair, meticulously preparing the background. "you heard me."

"why, though? he doesn’t seem like the type." you hummed, trying to decide between burgundy and navy material to hang up.

"well," Mydei started off, "he thinks it’s unfair that you prefer me over him." he laughed humorlessly, making you shake your head.

"i’m almost starting to feel bad. maybe i should replace you with him, what do you say?" you offered, albeit sarcastically — there was no way you’d ever give up on that distinct face.

he scoffed, grabbing one of the heavy sketchbooks as you struggled to secure the cloth to the wall. "you must be jesting. he wouldn’t be able of sitting in one place for so long."

you smirked to yourself. "don’t say."

"once i explained to him that you’d never agree to such foolery, this moron actually started to get worked up.” the man breathed, mindlessly starting to shuffle through your sketches. "he told me to go hell."

"well, it’s a good thing all dogs go to heaven, no?"

Mydei opened his mouth to snap back at you, but the words suddenly died in his throat. he felt his mind come up with a lag as he took in the multiple drawings of his own face — five consecutive pages, filled to the brim with portraits, every single one of them executed with utter detail. what? why in the world would you make so many sketches of him? he blinked, feeling his heartbeat pick up on its pace. he was well-aware of the fact you throughly enjoyed him as your model, however this was not made with his knowledge. were you possibly…?

"Mydei?"

he quietly closed the thing, putting it away in its previous place. "are you done?" he forced out, swiveling to render the distance between you two.

you nodded, turning in his direction. his cheeks were oddly red — oh well, maybe it was caused by the rather humid temperature outside. "yes. sit down.” you instructed, starting to angle his body to your desire once he seated himself on the chair.

with that, you stood behind the canvas, completely oblivious to what just occurred, and began to block out his silhouette.

seven days later, you were pretty much done with the whole painting. it’s hard to say whether you were satisfied with the finished result — the man’s features were engraved deep within your mind, but it still looked a bit off, and you felt as if the colors were not vibrant enough, and you could have chosen a different background, and the pose wasn’t all that complicated, and the roses standing beside were a bit blurry — would he be able to tell? also, the apple held in his hand seemed overly prominent — the longer you scrutinized the portrait, the more mistakes you managed to spot.

why do you care so much anyway? it’s not like he will start pointing out the things you should have fixed, and after your wordless confession of feelings is over, you will burn it down, or reuse the canvas for something else. yes, that’s definitely what you’ll do.

you knocked at the entrance of the man’s house, attempting to calm your breathing — it wasn’t like you to get so nervous over matters of this kind. you were always above that, sophisticated and composed, and so you mustn’t worry.

"oh, hello [name].” Mydei greeted you once he opened the door, his gaze flickering over to the big canvas you held in your palm, covered with cloth. "i see you’re done?"

he stepped to the side, and you nodded, nonchalantly walking past him. "indeed i am." you affirmed, slowly turning in his direction — you had to swallow, preparing yourself for the big moment. you rarely let in any vulnerability in your life, so it felt somewhat claustrophobic, suddenly unraveling yourself in front of someone who you not so long ago deemed as a mere companion at best, and a nuisance at worst (why did your heart have to betray you like that?).

he closed the door, crossing his arms over the muscular chest. "show me then."

you leaned the painting on the chair, swiftly pulling the material away. you stared into his irises like some kind of a hunter, capturing every single microexpression flashing through his face with intense anticipation. surprise, happiness — now it seemed as if he were impressed — contentment, recognition, and…? and what?

you shifted the weight of your body to your other leg. "what do we think?" you urged, your grip on the cloth tightening.

Mydei nodded in acknowledgment, stepping a bit closer to examine it carefully. "i suppose it’s one of your best works. it’s like a mirror, honestly." he mused, tilting his head as he surveyed every single stroke.

"and?"

he briefly checked you out. "it’s beautiful."

you clenched your jaw. "and?"

he huffed out a snicker, straightening out his back to look at you properly. "[name], are you really in such a need of compliments? i thought the most renowned painter of Okhema would be more humble than that."

a heat of irritation instantly crawled up your neck as you felt your stomach drop — you kept your expression neutral, fighting through the need of scowling at him. did he really fail to catch on to all the hints you presented him with? no, that was — that was simply impossible, for gods’ sake! you tried so hard, putting your everything into a portrait you’d dispose of anyway, and now he thought acting all oblivious would be funny?

"don’t make me laugh." you scoffed, cocking one eyebrow up at him. "your validation means as much to me as any other, so practically nothing."

you wanted to tear his throat open.

Mydei shrugged, glancing back towards the canvas. "feeling feisty today, aren’t we."

maybe you were wrong? maybe you didn’t like him, and you deluded yourself to think you do? after all, thoughts rarely reflect reality. they’re created out of subconscious patterns of one’s mind.

"shut your mouth."

he took a step closer, his body separated away from yours by mere inches. "or what?"

you inspected his lips — they looked so tempting, curling up in mocking amusement. your eyes snapped up to his own, and you felt vexation rise up in your gut — the kind that makes you wonder what separates humans from animals. you bared your teeth, just like most species do as a display of aggression, of leadership, of a threat. you hoped it was the only thing he could think of as you smiled at him so innocently.

"never mind that. i’m in a hurry anyway." you dismissed him, grabbing the painting and turning on your heel.

Mydei seemed almost surprised to see you back out so suddenly, but he didn’t point it out. good for him, because you don’t know what you’d do if he dared to prod at your nerves any further. shame along with disappointment washed over you as you walked over to the exit, keeping your movements graceful and calculated as always, though it was harder than usually.

"fine. see you soon, then."

you held back a sigh of exasperation. "not if i see you first."

you shut the door behind you with a loud bang, berating yourself for even wasting your time on that excuse of a man.

a few hours passed since your awful failure, and all you did during that time was sit on your chair in front of a canvas, brooding in silence. the sky already darkened, and your only source of light was a small oil lamp placed on the table beside you.

your fists clenched together as you continued to ponder upon all the possible mistakes, and things you did wrong. perhaps the problem didn’t lie within you, but rather him — still, you couldn’t help but feel the ache of defeat squeezing at your poor brain, wringing it dry of any logic or sense.

it was really unlike you. who would’ve thought — an arrogant, self-centered woman breaking her own thoughts over something as insignificant as a mere crush on someone so pathetic that he most likely wouldn’t hesitate to kiss your feet, and worship the ground you walk on if you told him to. you should suck it up, and move on — or maybe try again, because it would seem Mydei was in the dire need of a consultation with an ophthalmologist.

honestly, only someone lacking in wits would miss out on such obvious symbols — roses, apples, the color red in the background — what else were you supposed to add? a gigantic 'i love you' in the middle? should you splatter pink hearts around his head like a halo, or serenade under his window with a whole band to accompany you?

you gritted your teeth — maybe you will give up on him altogether! what a sight it would be, watching him crawl back to you and apologize over and over again for being so oblivious, tears streaming down his perfect face. yes, now that would’ve been a pleasure. on the other hand, no. you could be awful sometimes, but not to that degree.

perhaps that prideful man saw through your steel facade, with his stupid golden irises, and thought you appeared too anxious for his liking? was he truly attracted only to people of equal fierceness as him? did he perceive you as weak, for even trying to showcase your tender emotions? no, no — who does he think he is? did you seem backed into corner for him? did you look like some kind of a caged animal?

that’s not it. he was too-well infatuated with you to even take such things into consideration.

then what caused you to slip-up so miserably? you mulled over all the possibilities, the grim realization finally settling at the bottom of your stomach — your art was not good enough. the creation he praised oh-so highly was simply lacking. through years upon years of consistent work, and luxuries, and expensive parties, and auctions, and expositions, you began to get sluggish. that must have been it, no?

you frantically reached towards your palette, grabbing the paints and brushes as you started to quickly put colors onto the canvas. no sketch, no previous preparation — you squinted your eyes, trying to see through the darkness of your workplace, placing erratic strokes.

the skin with unique red marks, shadows encompassing it so sternly.

you pressed the brush harder. you hated art. you hated it with passion, and yet you couldn’t stop, because it was the only thing that fulfilled you to the brim, making your life complete.

blonde hair with maroon woven through the wild strands.

no, you didn’t hate it — you despised it! you could burn down every single one of your paintings, and you wouldn’t bat an eye! none of it mattered. you weren’t great, and you most certainly weren’t special. why people were so infatuated with your creations? if you could, you’d transform them into rags, and wipe the dirty floor.

piercingly sharp eyes, so vivid they looked almost alive.

Mydei was not of any importance to you either. you were just playing around with him, teasing the man and pulling at his feelings to your liking, because you got bored with your mundane life of someone who accomplished so much, yet at the same time barely anything at all.

nose, the arched brows, and the lips stretching in that mocking smile.

you loved it. you hated it.

jet-black background.

you loved him. you hated him.

a knife ripping through the canvas, tearing the beautiful face in half, severing it into pieces.

you huffed in frustration, your face twisting with dismay. the next time you see him, you’ll find the purpose of existence in the prominent, perfectly structured line of his jaw and break it. with a new resolve, you got up from your chair, reaching towards the portrait you made of him earlier, now discarded somewhere by your feet — you jabbed your fingers through the apple, forcing them to shred to the other side even if it was hard — you pulled, and pulled, observing the material crumbling in your own palms. it’s one of your best works — what an utterly foolish thing to say. how about now? was it still so breathtaking? in your humble opinion, it looked exactly like him.

as you surveyed the destroyed canvases, a sudden sound pulled you out of your reveries. someone was knocking at the door.

you rolled your eyes, feeling all the ire continuously simmering in the fibers of your body. you were not in the mood to see with anyone, much less at this time of the day, when it was obvious normal people would already begin getting ready for bed. you dropped the ruined painting on the ground, running fingers through your hair as you tried to compose yourself from the outburst.

you growled with chagrin once the knocking picked up in its volume. "come in!" you shouted, loud enough so the person outside would hear you.

you heard the door open, characteristic footsteps resonating in the space of your workplace. just great! he was definitely the last person you wanted to talk to right now. "[name], i brought you the cloth you forgot—"

Mydei stopped in his tracks, taken aback by the mess you made — he scanned everything, looking at the portraits you left in shambles after the bitterness you felt boiled over, spilling all around the cavities of your usually calm mind. you glanced at the material he was currently holding in his palm — you must have forgotten it when you left in hurry. still, you saw no point in bringing you this at such a late hour — he could’ve waited until tomorrow morning, no?

you sighed heavily, tapping your foot. "okay. anything else?"

the man’s eyebrows tugged together as he put the neatly folded cloth away on the table, his displeased vision returning to yours. "what happened here?"

"nothing much." you shrugged, starting to feel impatient.

his golden irises bored into your eyes as he took a step closer. at this point, you should just chase him away — he was not worthy of your attention, was he? "my sight is not impaired, [name]. you must really have a few screws loose." he commented in a low tone, picking up the painting you made just a few minutes earlier.

"what’s it to you?"

he huffed out a dry, humorless laugh. "color me surprised, i’ve never took you for someone so violent. is that supposed to be me?" he pointed towards the erratic strokes you put on the canvas, now ripped through in half. "i didn’t know i looked so horrible."

what a remarkable man — you admired his courage. not many people would be able of criticizing you so freely.

"yes, that’s you.” you agreed, tearing the thing away from his hands, and throwing it somewhere by your feet. "and i’m not violent."

"you must despise me, then."

"quite."

Mydei scrutinized you, as if weighting every single one of your syllables, trying to decipher what was going on in your tangled psyche — you genuinely hoped he wouldn’t come to any concrete conclusion. you’d eat his heart, if he did.

you were on your guard against the rest of the world, but with him, it seemed as if it was of no use. "why?" he questioned, his voice neutral, though you could hear the tangible lace of some disdain lying underneath.

"because," you clenched your fists, wanting to berate yourself for feeling so unbearably happier with him, "you drive me mad. it’s as simple as that."

if you could describe the state of your body, you’d probably say you were sitting in a wagon of sorts, and it was rushing towards the line of trees, mere seconds away from crashing. he had you on a string.

"i could say the same." he muttered, dragging his feet even closer to you — if he takes another step, he’ll merge into one with your being. you were sure of that. "but do you truly hate me?"

no, you craved to say, but your throat clenched around nothing, as if you were unable of acting like a normal human being for once.

Mydei exhaled, thinking you were akin to a deadly nightshade — your poisonous juices seeping into his mouth, dripping down the windpipe every time he tried to take a breath, choking, choking. there was no way to recover from that kind of devotion.

perhaps it’s just like a wishing well. you throw your coins into the water, hoping all of your desires will come true with the next one. both of you knew exactly how to push each other until you’d go insane, and it was so hard putting up with you sometimes, but his heart still drummed in the rhythm of your breaths.

"[name]?" he urged.

"no."

"then what do you think of me?"

the air gone heavy in your lungs.

"i like you."

you announced it nonchalantly, but you felt as if your whole body was on fire, burning with a mixture of embarrassment and agitation. you didn’t think. you didn’t analyze. you said what you were aching to say for the whole time, yet were too prideful to utter. a deep silence fell over you, and you swear you saw a flash of surprise run across his face.

for the whole time, the man was absolutely convinced you didn’t harbor any affection for him — and perhaps it wasn’t the textbook definition of 'love', but it resided within you nonetheless. all the sketches you made of him, and the knife you jabbed through the canvases of his portraits, and fleeting glances, and how you seemed to only laugh at his mildly-humorous jokes. that was the clarity of what conjoined you by the hip. you were his dearest — difficult, and self-serving, but still his. maybe now he won’t have to seethe internally anytime someone got too-friendly with you, or whenever you talked to others with so much interest.

your usually aloof eyes now appeared so afraid.

you swallowed, sensing his hand nudging against yours — he held it close to his mouth, kissing at your knuckles, a wordless way of saying: 'i do too.' it was a vast difference to every other thing you did together — no blind lust dragging you by the collar, no 'causal' intimacy — it was far from that. you looked into his eyes, and deemed they appeared remarkably tender for someone so adept at fighting. his long, beautiful eyelashes fluttered when you placed your palm at the back of his neck.

"i’m sorry for always being like this, Mydei." you mumbled, pulling him towards you.

his lips brushed against yours, apparently holding back. "i don’t mind."

it was the truth, because how could he?

your resolve crumbled, and you kissed him, and kissed him some more. he kept kissing you back.

it wasn’t fair for you to think of Mydei so lowly, when in reality you perceived the man as the only person you actually wanted, or knew. the denial was never working in your favor — it was clear as a day, the realization forcing its bright light through the fog of your mind. he was the sun, his unrelenting rays scattering through the prism of your being, just like it falls through the leaves during summer. you couldn’t explain how good it felt to glance across the room, and see him standing there — his eyes already on you, crinkling in the corners as he fought through the smile attempting to stretch his lips upwards.

his hands glued to your waist, digging its thumbs into your flesh with such intensity, you thought it might leave bruises. all the uncertainty dissipated, making you press yourself further into him, searching out his touch, the same way he did earlier on, when you still could deem yourself as only friends — if it was pathetic to you back then, you certainly were on equal level of low now.

you interwoven your fingers through his blonde hair, tugging at them aggressively as you practically swallowed each other, the heat of desire washing over your senses. Mydei’s palms trailed down to your hips, giving them a firm squeeze, as if they were molded to perfectly fit into his grip — just like puzzles do.

the tension arose, its palpable weight crushing you with a metaphorical grin on its lips. there was a knot settled deep in your stomach, tightening, cracking, threatening to snap in half as your fingers searched through the man’s body, lingering in places they shouldn’t be yet. perhaps, somewhere under your lungs, there was a big horde of butterflies, the erratic flapping of their wings shoving you into a haze, trying to rip away from your ribcage.

Mydei pushed you backwards, and if not the deadly grasp you had on him, you’d fall on the cold floor. you whined a sound of surprise into his mouth, yet you didn’t protest his actions — you coordinated your steps with his, allowing him to lead you. for all this time, you were the one dictating in which way his will would bend, so you decided to let him have this one (or maybe your brain was simply too occupied with everything else to even try thinking for itself).

you felt your knees suddenly hit the edge of the table, and you gasped, severing yourself from his lips. you opened your eyes, looking into his dilated pupils — all the gentleness gone, replaced with a dangerous covet. your heavy breaths mixed into one, hot mess, and you panted, wondering — how could you not love that man? he was much more than just a model, a mere doll to pose and play with.

he nudged you further, and your legs buckled under the pressure as you clumsily sat yourself atop the surface — Mydei shoved everything off, and you heard the dull sound of your sketchbooks hitting the ground, but you payed no mind to them. he leaned himself impossibly closer to you, securing your back from completely meeting with the table — his canines hovering just by your neck, as if he was debating whether he should sink them into your pulse point. previously, you thought fondness turns people soft, but you’ve never been more brutal.

you felt him secure himself between your thighs — you both knew how it goes. "i want you inside me," you pleaded into Mydei’s ear, clenching your fingers on his broad shoulders, and you could almost discern your head under the water, "i want you." you repeated, the knife splitting you both open.

"you’re not very patient, are you?" he murmured, amusement and yearning merged into one. you’d eat him alive.

your lips found his again, clashing with even more fervor than before, your teeth against the man’s as you barely controlled whatever restraint was left in you. you ignored the table creaking, and the nightingales singing outside, and the screech of your ignited mind, focusing solely on the fast beating of his heart underneath your fingertips — one, two three, one two, three. the last rush of melody you hear before a starved animal pounces on you, love filling its bottomless eyes.

devotion is a flesh, it is a flower in full bloom, flooded with blood running through its thin veins.

you hurriedly took off your top, and Mydei carefully eased your shoes away with his free hand.

you were no good, but does it hold any significance? you made each other alive. none other thing mattered.

[spooksnett]

Reminder to everyone

The OIAR cut contact with Starkwall protection services in January 2000. (10 days after the Magnus institute burnt down)

its been a damn while since they ever used their services. Gwen you're 24 years too late to asking for them

[lena-thinks-too-much]

The irony of fanon treating Tim as the introverted, antisocial, loner robin when he probably has the most friends in and out of the mask.

I mean people just love this guy. He's charismatic the way Peter Parker is charismatic. Awkward and nerdy and authentically himself and it just draws people in. I mean he had a pretty large group of friends in Brentwood Academy. And in Louis E. Grieve he manages to impress the school jocks in a way that makes him essentially popular (in the sense that he's well liked and well know but not popular popular). And let's not forget the fact that he regularly ran DND campaigns and like actually socialized outside of Robin, and maintained those friendships for years.

His canon boyfriend was someone he knew explicitly as a civilian throughout his junior year.

And that's not counting the way people just like Tim in the mask. He's the natural leader in young justice (98) and several people who objectively hate batman will cooperate with the bats because they like Tim (Helena comes to mind here). Tim's friendship with Anarchy starts from the very beginning of his run as Robin when they both reflect on the fact they're very similar: two incredibly clever and talented teenagers who love to be challenged.

Tim is just that guy.

When Damian tries to restart the teen titans while Tim is presumed dead, Beast Boy especially is constantly talking about Damian could never measure up to Tim. While yes that's largely because Damian is abrasive and hard to get along with. A good part of that is because Tim was just that likeable.

Like yes Tim might be more introvert coded but he is not antisocial or a loner or whatever.

I mean let's bffr y'all. You can't tell me we're just going to ignore the Tim outsmarted Ra's in red robin because Ra's was relying on the bats' hyper independence and Tim just goes "I'm not like Batman. I have friends" Like bro violated Bruce so hard and I feel like it's just such a pivotal part of his character that people ignore. Like yes Tim pushes people away when he can't deal with his emotions but he's also wayyy better than Bruce at relying on others.

Idk I feel like half of fanon infantilizes Tim while the other half treats him like a mini Bruce clone with the added risk of going rogue and it's neither.