#send tweet hit post whatever

[cosmicrhetoric]

coke studio afreen afreen

[freakova]

I need to give miyamoto usagi a big kiss

[yannawayne]

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

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"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.��

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well

[stars444hearts]

big reputation || 2

caitlin clark x actress! reader masterlist - prev - next warnings: none

caitlin_clark22

Liked by kate_martin03, yn_ln, and 820,508 others

caitlin_clark22 by the grace of whatever’s up there 🙏🙏🙏 Tagged: kate_martin03

View Comments

kate_martin03 caption’s tuff →caitlin_clark22 enough. 

user1 WAIT IS IT A NOD TO Y/N’S TWEET →user2 its def not they don’t even know each other →user3 NO Y/N LIKED THE POST

—

Y/n smiled as she read through Caitlin’s comments. After the eye-opening conversation she had with Kate last night, Y/n had become more open to the idea. 

She also thought the caption was cute. 

Y/n groaned as her stomach grumbled. She placed her phone on her bed, stood up, cracked her spine, and walked into her kitchen. 

Y/n decided to make something easy, then sit on her couch and binge-watch crappy reality tv. This was her first week off in months and she would spend it rotting in her living room like every normal 21-year-old. 

Y/n couldn’t tell you the number of below-deck episodes she had binge-watched, but by the time she finished, the sun was down and the crickets were chirping. She begrudgingly stalked back to her bedroom, changing into her pajamas and throwing herself down on her bed. 

She picked up her phone, only to drop it a second later in shock. 

[yn_ln]  Caitlin Clark                            4h ago sent you a message

—

Caitlin, on the other hand, was freaking out. She had never even spoken to Y/n before, but Kate had convinced her to DM her. 

Caitlin probably typed and retyped her DM 50 times before settling on a ‘hey !’

Caitlin groaned and shoved her phone down after finally hitting send. She couldn’t help but picking up her phone every ten seconds to see if Y/n had opened or responded to her DM. 

After 10 minutes, Caitlin had eventually given up hope of a response and sighed, turning off her phone and putting her head in her hands. 

Caitlin buisied herself by ordering doordash and sitting on her couch, rewatching film her coaches gave her to look over. She lost track of time and found herself mindlessly picking at her fingers, only coming to when she realized it was past midnight. ]

She groaned as she stood up from the couch, attempting to rub the sleep from her eyes. Caitlin walked into her bedroom as she sat on her bed. She picked up her phone and almost threw it when she saw her most recent notification. 

[caitlin_clark22] Yn Ln                            20m ago sent you a message

— 

Caitlin  hey !

Y/n hey yourself sorry for leaving you on delivered i was binge-watching below deck

Caitlin which one?

Y/n mediterranean, duh

Caitlin good. That's the best one Yn liked this message

Y/n so, i’m assuming kate told  you to dm me?

Caitlin well, to be honest, i had kinda been wanting to ever since i met you on facetime with kate. 

Y/n brother that was 6 months ago 💀

Caitlin LEAVE ME ALONE, OK i'm just a girl

Y/n SO REAL whenever people tell me im doing  something wrong i get so annoyed  like im just a girl that curb shouldn’t have been there 😠

Caitlin LMFAOO Anyways, yeah, kate finally bullied me into texting my celebrity crush who she just  happens to be best friends with

Y/n 🤨🤨 is that all i am to you?? a pretty face?

Caitlin NO NO I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT I SWEAR

Y/n LMFAOO im just fucking with you anyways, going back to that… celebrity crush, you say? 🤨😏

Caitlin 😶 moving on…

Y/n no, no i wanna know

Caitlin umm… basically i’ve just been really obsessed with your show lately and kate told me i should shoot my shot but im now realizing maybe i should save that for the court

Y/n LMFAOO nah, kate was right she showed you my tweet, right?

Caitlin yeah, why?

Y/n because i wasn’t kidding. 

[cap-ironman]

Cap-IronMan Rec Week 2024

We're announcing the return of the annual Cap-IronMan Rec Week!

For those new to Rec Week, here is how it works: each day of Rec Week will have a post asking for fanwork recs based on a different theme. Recs can be for fic, art, or other Steve/Tony (or Steve & Tony) fanworks of any kind. At the end we’ll create a giant masterlist of all the recs that were posted for everyone's reading and viewing enjoyment. 🎉

This year we surveyed the community about themes and received some really great ideas. Thank you for sharing!

Rec Week 2024 Themes and Schedule

Better Together Monday: July 22nd: Tell us all about those fanworks where Tony and Steve are better teammates, are more competent, complete missions more efficiently and are just overall better for working and being together!

Time Travel Tuesday: July 23rd Rec all those great fanworks where Tony or Steve (or Tony and Steve) travel to the past or the future or to an alternate past or future and discover unexpected realities and new truths!

Early Canon Wednesday: July 24th: Bring on all those fanworks set in those heady early days of canon where Steve and Tony have just met and are starting to work together.

DarkFic Thursday: July 25th: All you DarkFic lovers rec us those fanworks that hit that spot, the one where things go bad, or go from bad to worse (and even more worse) and the endings are unexpected.

Family Friday: July 26th: Rave about those fanworks about Steve and Tony being parents to young children, or single parents meeting other single parents, or starting a family or dealing with teenage kids or finding family, whatever family means.

Smut Saturday: July 27th: Give all the recs for those spicy fanworks that make your blood run hot or make your heart thump harder.

Cap-IM Sunday: July 28th: Rec all your favorite works created for one of the Cap-IronMan challenges!

There will be different ways to participate:

You can comment with your recs on the day on the special posts that will go up on our Dreamwidthcommunity. (Anon commenting will allow anyone to participate, even if they don’t have an account.)

Reply to the day’s tumblr post that will go up on our cap-ironman tumblr or the tweet on our cap-ironman twitter or reply to our IG post and add your recs to it.

During rec week you can make a Tumblr-Post and tag it with #capimrecweek within the first five tags on the post. Please include the day’s theme you are reccing for somewhere in the body of the post. On the dedicated day we will reblog posts for the day’s theme on our community tumblr and later include them in the masterlist.

During rec week post rec(s) on Twitter matching the day's theme and mention @ cap-ironman so that we can retweet it.

Share your recs to our cap-ironman discord server in the #stony-rec channel mentioning the day’s theme you are reccing for somewhere in the rec

So it’s time to start getting your recommendations ready to share with the Steve/Tony community and look out for the first post to go up on the 21st. 😘

If you have any questions, please let us know in the comments to the Dreamwidth post right here, send us an ask on Tumblr, reach out on the discord server or email us at cap.im.events@gmail.com or DM us on Discord.

[jovenshires]

hey gang!

i've been thinking, and i think it's about time i take a tiny, teeny lil hiatus. just wanted to let you know i'll be gone for a lil while (hopefully a week+ depending on how it goes). this is NOT because of any of you - in fact i am going to miss you all dearly. just think i need a bit of a mental health reset luvs.

i will have my queue running - i've upped the time and number of posts as well so it will run throughout my normal hours here - and i have content (incorrect tweets, some video edits, gifsets, etc.) lined up until. like may so don't worry about that snkjfk (i won't be gone for that long prommy i just do a lot of content prep). i'll also be watching smosh every day as per usual, and still working on stuff while im gone!! i think this'll be a really great opportunity to get some work done - i have so many fics and passion projects lined up that im really excited about, so hopefully i'll get to finish those in the meantime and i may be back to post them <3 at the very least i'll be back by valentines day for the smoshblr exchange!!

i won't be checking my notifs, the smosh tag, or anything like that. if you want me to see smth in the meantime, hit me with a tag or a dm and i promise i'll see it when i get back. my askbox is still open but i'm afraid i probably won't be answering anything for the time being. if you're an anon who sends me asks - please please please keep sending them to me. truly you have no idea how much i enjoy our silly lil daily chats, they mean the world to me. i will be back to answer them as soon as i feel like im ready <3 and as for dms, i will answer them once i come back, but if you wanna talk to me urgently, i have discord/snapchat/whatsapp/etc where you can find me if you want to hmu for those <3 even if we've never spoken before!! i don't bite and i love friends prommy. i'll def be around for the rest of the day if you want to get my info!

like i said, i'll be around if anyone has any burning questions or wants to chat. i love you all, keep going strong, and be good while i'm gone. in my honor, please follow my golden rules: be kind to one another, make lots of silly goofy content, and, most importantly, do whatever you want forever. love ya! :)

[gaystan]

PRESENTING ME AND @11x13kyle's FIRESIDE CHATS WITH KYLE AND ERIC AKA NICHE INTERNET MICROCELEBRITY AU:

cartman and kyle host a podcast called fireside chats with kyle and eric that’s basically just red scare, cartman is dasha and kyle is anna

they're constantly beefing with each other on twitter and some people are convinced it's staged to promote the show but kyle just hates cartman That Much

a majority of their listeners are just there for the occasional mention of their batshit childhood experiences amongst all the terrible political takes

like "umm i don't wanna hear this insane opinion on al gore i want to know more about how you guys swear that he tried to get you to help him kill manbearpig when you were 8"

fans wonder if these events are true or if they're enabling each other's schizophrenia

cartman is always saying the worst reactionary things while kyle's takes are deceptively normal until he hits them with one that makes listeners go hey WHAT?

kyle resents being called a reactionary but cartman LOVES it, wears the label like a badge of pride

there is CONSTANT discourse about whether or not cartman's antisemitism is ironic or not, with the reasoning "why would kyle be friends with him if it was genuine," and kyle regularly takes to twitter to say "IT IS NOT IRONIC."

kyle peaks the mic multiple times an ep yelling at cartman, says they'll edit it out in post, never gets cut because neither of them can edit

reddit posts go up are after every episode giving timestamp warnings for when kyle gets super loud

cartman has a christian music era, gets tradcath allegations and does little to discourage them

there are people who rpf ship kyman. cartman knows about this and tweets at fans asking them to send him fic recs

secretly jacks off to them

has a bit where he gives a shout out to his favorite kyman fic of the week and kyle breaks the mic every single time screaming at him

he posts unbelievably cringy "ironic" thirst traps to his instagram story at night and "ironic" drag pictures but the outfits and makeup are too good to be a joke

he also posts pictures of butters in bed with like bites on his neck to brag about getting hot tail but it's also just as unsexy

this is how he accidentally comes out, he was so distracted by the need to flex that he forgot he's still trying to beat the gay allegations

the "ironic" kyman fic jokes stop being funny

butters is adam friedland and kenny is the girl he cheated with

the butters show is cohosted with dougie and part of the alt right pipeline

stan is kyle's offline boyfriend in a B list rock band and wears fireside merch on stage sometimes

this includes the isis shirts which he swears up and down he didn't know were isis shirts

deeply apolitical by choice so whenever kyle talks to him about podcast stuff he nods along like whatever you say honey

he still listens to it he just tunes out of the political talk

the day his fans find out he's gay is the biggest day for them since his 2021 single hit the hot 100

everyone analyzing his old lyrics like oh my god. this was about a MAN. it all makes sense.

kenny is a twitter microceleb and socialite, much like with cartman controversy is part of the brand

gained thousands of followers over the butters cheating discourse

thirst tweets about kyle and they're secretly unironic

comes on fireside and rates youtubers he's slept with, kyle is disgusted and cartman is delighted

chapo trap house is craig and those guys

[httpknjoon]

proof, they say | ksj

plot | Every proof that random people took just to prove your relationship.

words | 2.2k+

genres | humor/crack, fluff, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | usernames used in the fic are all fictional. this "thread" is briefly mentioned in lie detector test. I was second-guessing if I should post this for a while. now, I am posting it before the finale! I have more proofs but I chose not to put it here anymore! if you want to read more proofs, send me an ask and I'll gladly reply with it. enjoy reading!

main masterlist | drabble series

Sometime in 2021, Twitter user @/bluemoon04 posted a thread of tweets, which later became one of the most essential posts in the YN-JIN fandom. It was published just weeks later after Jin’s Lie Detector Test video from Vanity Fair and it gets an update every time someone gets more proof of The A-Listers’ real relationship.

As of December 2022, the thread has almost eighty-nine thousand likes and thirty thousand and four hundred plus retweets and requotes. The proofs posted can be hit or miss. But user bluemoon04 shares it anyway and lets the others share their thoughts about it. Others can also submit their own proofs to the account through direct message.

Proof no. 1: [THAT TUMBLR POST IN JANUARY 2019]

behind the scenes...

A twenty-second video was posted on Tumblr sometime in the last quarter of 2019 by a newly-made account. The post only had three tags: #YN, #JIN, and #YNJIN. The algorithm worked and published the video in everyone’s feed. It received a thousand notes by the twenty-four-hour mark. It also reached other social media sites. Mostly, Twitter.

Fans— even the local audience is in awe after watching the video. What’s in it? You might wonder.

It’s just you and Jin sitting on a bench under a light post on a dark night in a lakeside park. It was seemingly taken during the production of Maybe Yes, Maybe No. It was a crowded place with the crew and staff members walking around to do their job while the actors wait on the side.  Amidst the busy background, you and Jin can be seen enjoying ice cream on cones as you chat, inaudibly.

It looked like you two were busy in your own world while the crew members carry stuff around the set. Jin said something that made you laugh hard.

“God! That was terrible!” you told him before laughing at whatever Jin said.

“You loved it!” he replied.

Those were the only audible dialogue from the clip. You two continued talking as you eat the cold treat. And based on everyone who saw the video, Jin can melt– not just the ice cream– but also you with how he stared at you intently while you tell your story. You then paused when you felt the weight of his stare, your eyebrows raised. He chuckled, shaking his head, before wiping the ice cream on the corner of your lips with his thumb. The video ended when a crew member walked up to you two.

Proof no. 2: [JIN SIGHTINGS IN LESS LIKELY PLACES pt. 1]

@/multifan0303: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD MY MOM JUST SENT ME THIS 

The tweet was originally posted in January 2020. The first picture was Jin’s signature on a piece of paper. For the second and last one, there’s a picture of the original poster’s mom with the actor. It’s not new for Jin to take pictures with fans he is out in public. But what made the whole fandom crazy about it is it was taken in a pet store and he was holding a basket full of cat food and supplies.

replying to @/multifan0303

- @/multifan0303: my mom doesn’t know who he is. but she saw her other customer that time asking for a picture with him so she asked for a picture and autograph too HDJSKLJFKDSLGKLJFDS

– @/greenpr4da: look at that basket

— @/v3rsaceyn: and you’re telling me jin hates cats????

—- @/franchiecat: he doesn’t even have a cat 😭

Proof no. 3 [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 1]

During the first lockdown during the pandemic in 2020, everyone began suspecting about you and Jin living together in a house in Connecticut. With a lot of free time, the media managed to find a real estate posted online located in the said state that apparently looked like the house you were rumored to be living together in.

con mi hija 🌸

You captioned it in one of your Instagram posts in 2020. It was a selfie of you with Francheskat in your backyard. The picture was focused on your pet and only half of your face can be seen. A wall from your house can also be seen, showing that your home does have a stone exterior. Since you are more active on social media than Jin, your eagle-eyed fans also spotted in a different picture that you also have the identical Victorian lamp that the actor had behind him during a virtual interview.

“Just tell us are you and Y/N living together?!” Donny asked jokingly during an online fundraiser event with you, Jin, and other friends.

Jin shakes his head, laughing, “We’re not.”

“We do!” you huffed dramatically. “No one told me this man doesn’t know how to wash his laundry!”

Other participants laughed at your exaggerated and sarcastic tone. That was the first time you two acknowledged the gossip publicly and it was definitely not the last. You acknowledged it again when you greeted him on his birthday.

Proof no. 4: [BUB]

Both supporters and the press caught on Jin slipping his endearment for you during events with you back in 2021. Fans made video compilations and listed down the times your co-actor called you ‘bub’ on numerous occasions. Sometimes it was hushed, sometimes it felt like it just slipped from his lips. Jin finally addressed it when W Magazine brought up the topic during a magazine cover with you.

“Yeah, why do you call me that?” you turned your head to him, still in your look for the editorial shoot you two did.

Jin’s lips broke into a smile as he looked at you. He rested his chin on his palm when he answered, “It’s nothing really… It just slips out, bub”

As far as everyone witnessed from his whole career in Hollywood, you were the only co-worker Jin sometimes calls by a nickname. He never explained where it came from and was only questioned about it once.

Proof no.5: [THE TALE OF FRANCHESKAT]

“Yeah, that’s my lovely daughter, Francheskat.” you shared when Stephen Colbert brought up the picture of your pet.

“I heard she’s from an animal shelter in London. Is that right?” the host asked and you nodded from your seat.

“Yes! I visited a few shelters there during the production of my new film there and I was in awe when I first met her!”

“Oh, so you adopted her right away from that moment?”

“I didn’t…” you shook your head. “I was too busy and I was only in London for less than two weeks. My schedule was jampacked, and I never got to drop by the shelter again.”

“But I have a friend who saw how much I want to have this beautiful cat and surprised me like a month later after I got back in LA. It was so unexpected, I cried.” you laughed.

That interview was in 2017, months before the release of your first movie with Jin. Francheskat was the main reason why you made an Instagram account again after deactivating your old account back in 2016. Based on your fans’ calculations, you recently just finished filming Cornelia Street when you began posting about your cat. And Jin was seen in London around the same time you shot your own scenes there.

These facts strengthen your fans’ belief that Jin was the friend you were talking about. Especially with how close your co-star is to your cat, even though he claims he isn’t a big fan of felines.

Proof no. 6 [Y/N SPOTTED IN LESS LIKELY EVENTS  PT.1]

“I don’t really celebrate any holidays.” you shared during an interview back in 2014. “I just spend those days like my other rest days except I send gifts to my friends.”

You have been living alone ever since you were emancipated from your father’s control. You usually sleep or work through Christmas and New Year’s eve or any other commonly big holiday, treating it as a normal day. You always find it exhausting to prepare for such events when you live alone. The only special event you celebrate is your mom’s or close friends’ birthdays. Your fans are aware of this fact and made sure to send you sweet greetings during holidays as you post pictures from your home. You were never spotted outside either by the press during these events.

@/DonnyNextDoor: happy thanksgiving from us!!

In the celebration of Thanksgiving Day back in 2021, Donny posted a photo of your circle of friends. You stood next to Bella Hadid, who was Donny’s girlfriend at the time. Next to you were Jin and your three other mutual friends.

@/daisiesandroses: omg yn holiday contents

Fans were happy to see you with friends during that time. They expected that you will post something for Christmas and New Year’s too. However, you only posted an Instagram story each, greeting everyone. Someone claimed they spotted you in New York for Times Square Ball but no pictures floated online.

Proof no. 7: [VERSACE ON THE FLOOR]

It has been known to everyone that you have always been a massive admirer of the luxury fashion brand, Versace. Donatella has been a great friend of yours ever since you became a brand ambassador for the said brand when you were 22. And even though you had contracts with other brands in the following years, you maintained a good relationship with her. You’ve also been invited to fashion week events and you always try to go if your tight schedule can accommodate it. You were even featured in Bruno Mars’ music video for his hit song, Versace On The Floor.

@/SE0KJINM00N: SOMEONE SEND ME THAT PHOTO HE DELETED IT!!

@/hellobubba: was that versace on that fucking floor or am i seeing things

@/peopleoncrnlstrt: LMAO he deleted the ig story

But sometime in 2019, Jin posted a picture in his Instagram Stories which he deleted less than two minutes later. The photo is simple. It was a picture of the latest book he read. He was holding it down, seemingly an innocent one. But if you travel your eyes to the upper corner of the image, even though the background’s a little blurry, a black piece of clothing can be seen. It was immediately recognizable due to the fact that it has the word Versace printed all over it. 

And since you were the closest person to him that everyone knows, the fans assumed it was yours. You were once seen a couple of years ago sporting a bikini top with the same design, just different colors. People searched online and found that there is, indeed, a Versace one-piece swimsuit with the exact design.

Although the photo was never talked about in public, that Versace mystery became an inside joke in the fandom.

Proof no. 8: [LIVING TOGETHER ALLEGATIONS PT. 2]

urfavecatlady started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

August 2020. You had a five-minute live on your Instagram account, simply just to chat with your fans while you were waiting for your cookies in the oven. It was short yet chaotic.

“Oh, I tried baking today! I saw an easy recipe online. I’ll share the link on Twitter later.” you answered a fan as you put down your phone. You sported a now-messy apron. The apron? It was a gift from Timmy. He learned I love ba–”“

“Ouch!”

Someone exclaimed in the background, followed by the noises of something falling on the ground. You paused and looked at whatever was behind your phone. Your eyes widened. But you tried to compose yourself as you look back at the camera.

“Francheskat jumped on some– on my stuff. Gotta go! I’ll update y’all with the cookies later. Bye!” your voice trailed off as you end the Instagram Live.

@/amymarchdefender: i think i heard someone during yn’s live

@/princessbubblegum: is she quarantining with someone???!?

Some fans claimed it was not Francheskat, but Jin. Although the mystery voice was not that audible, they claimed it was him. Others believed that maybe you are really going through lockdowns with someone who is not Jin. There are few people who believe that you really have a longtime secret partner, someone who is not in the same industry as you. Nonetheless, everyone never knew who it was.

The thread still receives updates from time to time even though you took a break and Jin is not really that active on social media. The owner of the tweet still gets submissions from various fans.

Now, October 2023. Jin hasn’t had any public appearances since his series premiere on HBO. He is still in for Waller-Bridge’s movie. You, on the other hand, were getting gossip that you will be having a cameo with Greta Gerwig’s Barbie. Some believed that you will be retiring or will take years to come back. Both of you two were not active on social media. Your last post in your Instagram feed was in August. And Jin’s was May.

But one of Hollywood's biggest celebrity gossip sources is the Instagram account, Deuxmoi, posted something that made a noise in your fandom.

Sent via form submission from Deuxmoi

Pseudonyms, Please: Cookie Monster

Email: heardit@the.gravevine

Subject: Everyone’s Fave Cat Lady

Message: A friend of mine works in one of the longest-running live television shows. They said that a prominent A-lister actress is returning in front of the cameras after taking a sudden break for more than a year. Her comeback will be announced next week! Watch out!

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @lovesickbangtan @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin @petalsofink

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic​ @buttvi​ @starbtslove​ @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23

[simonsrosebud]

Hii, hope I'm not too late for WIP Wednesday. I'm hooked on next gen foxes (one elliot min-jos has no right to be so funny) and intrigued by brussels, so I guess I'll leave it up to you? Thankss

Have a nice day : )

I’m gonna give you some of the night that Elliot and Abram first hook up..... (if that's news to anyone reading this then reference this)

-

Elliot doesn’t mind parties like these.  Scant lighting, people everywhere minding their own business, some playing drinking games in the kitchen, way too many shoved into the dark living room shouting over the music pulsing through all of their veins.  Bodies pressed against one another while some danced to whatever throwback was playing, others flirting with people who were either interested or oblivious.

He and Abram sneak in from outside, winding through people and trying not to get beer spilled down either of them.  Elliot pulling him through with a tight grip on his hand, shouldering his way into as much of a clearing as he can manage.

He trips over someone’s foot and curses under his breath as his heart drops.  Abram uses his free hand to grab the back of Elliot’s shirt to keep him upright, and settles it on his waist to stay close behind, and Elliot doesn’t have the courage to glance back at him.  The touch on his waist is enough to send hot sparks through his skin.

Elliot hides his drunken grin, hides the excitement just from the touch.

They only get as far as the front door before they end their search for space.  It’s not big, but it’s enough of a pocket to breathe in until the rest of their roommates eventually fine them.  Knowing them, it could be all night.

Abram has already announced that they were all heading out, the responsible mother hen he is.  From there on it’s up to the others to actually make it out of the house alive.

“They’re never getting up here!”  Elliot laughs, head swiveling to search for their friends.  He shakes his head in disbelief, hiccuping and humming as he leans it back against the wall.

Abram stands turned to the side beside him, his chest pressing to Elliot’s shoulder.  It’s an intimidating sight, Abram with his arm up above him on the wall, almost looming over him.  Elliot forces himself to look away.

But because he’s drunk, Abram’s voice in his ear startles him.  “Hey.”  He turns his head.  His face comes way too close like that, but he doesn’t have the courage to move it.

“Hey,” he repeats.  Abram smiles softly, drunken eyes squinting a bit.  Elliot has no idea what he wanted to say, not in this state of mind, at least, but he bites his lip and unapologetically scans Abram’s face.  He flicks his gaze down to his mouth and wills himself to keep breathing.  How much has he drank?

“Hey, that thing you posted,” Elliot slurs.  “Were- was that true?”

Abram doesn’t tweet as often as Elliot does, that’s for sure.  And surely not personal or inappropriate things.  For him to post, “just when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, you want to fuck a blonde guy” is definitely, in Elliot’s opinion, outrageous compared to his usual content.

Abram’s tongue darts out and over his bottom lip, then he bites it softly afterwards, slow and teasing.  He nods at a snails pace, humming in agreement.

He looks down at Elliot’s mouth- or was it just his chin?  Was there a difference?  Regardless, Elliot’s body is a mess.  Swaying under the influence of alcohol, sweating slightly from the overpopulation of the house, chest constricting and heart pumping loudly in his ears.  Whatever song playing through the house sounds like garbled nothings to him.

His breath hitches heavily when Abram’s hand slides onto his waist, thumb pushing into his belly and smoothing over his covered skin.  The pressure sets his skin ablaze.  He knows that Abram has big hands, but there’s a difference between holding it himself and feeling it envelop virtually his entire waist.  God, is he lightheaded?

Elliot loosely hooks his finger in Abram’s belt loop before he even recognizes doing it.  He swallows and tilts his chin up, just barely, balling his fists behind his back and trapping them against the wall.  

Abram’s breath is warm on his cheek, smelling of the same beer Elliot has been drinking ago and a hint of the toothpaste he’d used just before they left earlier.  His forehead brushes against Elliot’s, not quite pressing together but teasing the touch, and if he justleans a bit further then-

“Yo, we looked everywhere for you fucker!”  Colin and their other roommates pop up unexpectedly, nearly tackling them with their alcohol induced excitement, jumping and cackling and hollering.  Elliot lets himself be wrenched away and out of Abram’s touch, starting out the door without a second thought.  His heart still overworks itself, setting a beat far too fast for the song playing and warning him of what he almost just did.

What they almost did?

[wildpeachfarm]

Sorry I keep sending in asks LMAO but yeah I totally agree especially nowadays I think the fandom numbers and activity is fine on tumblr? It seems to be similar as before for me but on Twitter holy fuck is it like really really dead (at least the interactions are) I can’t tell if people are just more inactive or just don’t interact w art as much as before + dranart is like gone most of the month so my posts barely even hit likes and interactions as it did before which feels like a punch in the gut for sure I don’t want to sound ungreatful in ANY way btw hope I don’t sound like that😭😭 I think most artists and writers are going thru it rn I hear that their interactions keep getting dropped like 50% every week it’s so sad

I think it’s the fandom + the algorithm too cause I have NOT been seeing any dteam stuff on my tls just because I was inactive for a couple days which is wild like 😭

Many artists and writers are probably feeling down and struggling with numbers and self worth including myself so we just gotta push forward and wait for the drupload ig 💪💪 atp since everyone’s struggling just draw write whatever the fuck you want you know nobody gives a fuck in a good way if you think kinda positively ig haha

Also people on twt usually only interacting w mostly straight forward Cc art (in case of Dnf like them cuddling and kissing) like it’s cute yeah! But those seem to be the few art that people actually interact w which is sad too as an au based art acc LMAO but ig it is what it is and I need to deal w it

Sorry for the long rant GJSJFKA love you mokuuuu

ILY wolfy and yes you are so correct I really do think people especially on twitter need to get better with supporting artists and writers because I am especially seeing low rts. Dream fanart pivoting to liking random shitposts and tweets from stan accounts definitely killed their impact because now their likes hold very little importance AND we can't even see them any more 😭😭😭 so that also sucked and it just happened to be during a time where reach and sharing was low to begin with. Certainly hope that activity resumes with more content but idk I think ultimately we need to remind the fandom how much supporting others really helped everyone and uplifts the fandom "functionings"

[cha-melodius]

Oh my goodness, I've just seen your fic festival request post and am excited to sneak in to participate before it closes. I love your writing and your stories so very much!

My prompt suggestion is... firstprince in Edinburgh, Scotland... in particular, the Edinburgh pride parade (if I may be so oddly specific). AU welcome, canon welcome, makeouts welcome, ahem.

Thank you and good luck wrangling everyone's prompts!

(Firstly, I have to say I love your url and your profile pic! Secondly, this is heavier on the Pride and lighter on the Edinburgh as far as the details go, but I hope it delights. Inspired in part by a tweet shared on tumblr; rated M for dick jokes. Happy Bisexual Awareness Week!)

Something To Be Proud Of

(firstprince, 3.3k, M; read it below or on AO3) read all the fandom fest fics

Henry stares at the carbon copy of the email in his inbox and wills time to go backwards. Just a few minutes, that’s all he needs. Enough time to go back and keep autocorrect from transforming whatever he’d typed after ‘he’ in his pronouns after his name into… that.

Thank you so much for all your help. Together we can make this a truly exceptional Edinburgh Pride. Regards, Henry Fox (he/hung Sent from Outlook for iOS.

How had he not seen it before he hit send on an email going out to every volunteer on their mailing list? How had he not noticed?

Maybe no one else would notice either. No one looks at email signatures that closely, right?

~~~~~

Ok, he’s not delusional enough to think that no one noticed. He had, however, naively believed that everyone would recognise it for what it was and politely ignore his gaff. He gets away scot free for a few days, and then, at the end of an email sent by a volunteer that is mostly as expected, he sees:

Best, Alex (he/him) PS: not sure I did the pronouns right. Does ‘Pride’ over here include being proud of your big dick?

It’s a damned good thing that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at the time, or he might be wearing it instead. Once he’s finished choking on nothing and perhaps isn’t quite the colour of a tomato (oh, who is he kidding, of course he still is), Henry professionally answers Alex’s questions about the schedule for the day of the march. He pauses before the sign off, wondering if he should acknowledge the flub or pretend it never happened. In the end, he writes:

Regards, Henry (he/him) PS: Your pronouns look correct to me, but they are, of course, your choice.

He only checks the email about ten times before he sends it. Hopefully, that should be the end of it.

~~~~~

It’s not.

Apparently, Alex has more questions. Apparently the law firm he works for is one of this year’s sponsors and is interested in potentially running a free legal clinic associated with the festival. A noble endeavour, which Henry is only too happy to assist with. He makes a mental note to look into logistics with Kate, the event’s chair, and continues reading. Finding out that Alex is apparently mature enough to be a lawyer lulls him into a false sense of security, though. At the tail of the email, he finds:

PS: regardless of the size of your dick, I’m impressed by the balls it takes to not acknowledge the typo. Then again, maybe it wasn’t? PPS: I’m trying out new pronouns. How do you think (daddy/sir) would go over?

Henry does spit his tea all over his phone this time.

He doesn’t email Alex back right away, but that’s because he has to wait to hear back from Kate. It has nothing to do with the fact that the prospect of dragging this interaction out longer is both horrifying and vaguely thrilling. Henry has noticed that he uses Americanised spellings in his text, which seems to fit with his general demeanour. It piques Henry’s curiosity, even though the thought of actually having to face Alex in person still makes him flush automatically. Eventually he gets an email from Kate that includes additional questions for the firm, as well as telling him that he can pass it off to someone in sponsor coordination. He is, after all, just the volunteer coordinator for the march. This need not involve him.

He still emails Alex back with the questions. And:

PS: Although I support your creativity, I am concerned those pronouns may not be appreciated in a professional setting such as, for instance, a court of law. Just a thought. However, I do suspect they might be rather popular at Pride.

~~~~~

They keep on exchanging emails, even though Henry should have sent Alex’s contact info to sponsor coordination ages ago, even though it becomes clear that Alex is not the one who will be ultimately responsible for the clinic either. On every one, there is a postscript in which Alex makes some kind of joke about the size of Henry’s dick.

do you have to get all your pants specially made with extra room in the crotch

do you have to check your dick as luggage when you fly

have you ever used it as a tripod

is your dick in another time zone

do you call your dick Sir Richard because it’s that prominent

In turn, Henry responds as dryly as possible, which only seems to encourage him. Oddly for someone who is volunteering at the event, Alex seems to have a lot of questions about Pride itself, as though this is the first one he’s attending on any continent. They exchange emails almost right up to the day of the march itself, but if they do taper off, Henry is too busy to notice. Coordinating volunteers for something as big as Edinburgh Pride is intense, and the days tick by before he even knows it.

He’s standing off to the side at the volunteer check-in tent on the morning of the march, going over some last minute logistics with one of his staff, when a voice carries over the hubbub, deep and rich with an out-of-place American accent.

“Sorry, but I was hoping… is Henry here?”

Henry straightens up and turns toward the voice only to find perhaps the most stunning man he’s ever seen standing at the front table. Dark, curly hair, a sharp jaw, big brown eyes with the longest eyelashes Henry has ever seen— he’s actually impossibly beautiful. Unbelievable, really. As is the fact that he’s asking for Henry.

“Hello,” Henry says as he walks over to the front. “How can I help you?”

The man’s eyes snap over to him, and he very clearly looks Henry up and down and swears, “Jesus fuck,” under his breath. Then his eyes come back up to Henry’s face, and he swallows. “You’re not Scottish.”

Henry cocks an eyebrow at him. “Neither are you.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just— need to adjust what you sound like in my head,” he says nonsensically. “I’m Alex?”

Oh.

Oh, Christ.

Henry should have known, because how many other Americans could there be volunteering at Edinburgh Pride? That reality does nothing to help him cope with the situation presented before him, though, in which this is the man who’s been teasing him about the size of his dick for the last month.

“I, uh,” he says eloquently as he tries to pull himself together. There are far too many people standing around watching this exchange. “Hello. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Did your firm get everything sorted with the clinic?”

“Oh,” Alex says, blinking. “Yeah, thanks. Look, I’m sure you’re busy, but I have something for you?”

It kind of comes out as a question, and he’s scratching the back of his head uncertainly, so even though Henry has no idea what’s coming, he nods. Then Alex reaches into his pocket, fishes out something small and round, and places it on the table between them.

It’s a button. A pronoun button, not unlike the one Henry’s already wearing, but instead it reads: he/hung.

Henry’s eyes snap up to find Alex grinning at him with the kind of mischief that Henry honestly should have expected from him sparkling in his eye. “Wanted to make sure you were prepared,” he says with a little one-shouldered shrug. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Then he takes his volunteer t-shirt and saunters off—and Christ those jeans are ridiculously tight and doing everything for his arse—leaving Henry gawping after him. A moment later, one of his regular volunteers, Robin, bustles by, catches sight of the button, and lets out a sound that can only be described as a cackle.

“My god, it’s perfect,” they say. “Did he really make this for you?”

Henry can only sigh, dragging a hand over his face. “It appears so. Robin, can you do me a favour?”

“Make sure you’re working the same stations all day?” they surmise. Henry doesn’t need to look to imagine the knowing grin on their face.

Henry wants to say no. Just because Henry’s already managed to combine the affection engendered by their previous email conversations with Alex’s stunning good looks into a powerfully intoxicating cocktail of a crush—well, that’s on Henry and his poor decision-making.

Instead, he says: “Yes, exactly that.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Alex had only signed up to volunteer at Pride on a whim. He’s always complaining that he doesn’t know anyone in Edinburgh outside of his coworkers, and one such coworker—someone that he could safely call a friend—suggested that getting involved in the festival would be a good way to meet people. Alex had tried to explain that he wasn’t actually queer, but she’d just given him an odd look and told him that allies were welcome at Pride too. It had felt a little weird signing up despite her assurances, but also kind of good. He was finally going get out there and have a life beyond his job.

He certainly hadn’t expected to strike up a prolonged email exchange with the volunteer coordinator, Henry. He also doesn’t really know why he kept finding excuses to send him new messages, except for Henry’s responses to Alex’s stupid jokes made Alex imagine him rolling his eyes and trying not to laugh, which only egged Alex on further. It was fun. That’s all.

Nothing about any of this made him prepared to show up to the volunteer check-in tent  today and be plunged directly into a sexuality crisis. But that seems to be exactly what’s currently happening now that he’s been confronted by quite possibly the hottest man he’s ever seen. Alex doesn’t even get it because it’s not like he hasn’t been able to objectively appreciate attractive men before, and blond hair and blue eyes have historically never really done it for him. Even if they are combined with swooping cheekbones, and broad shoulders, and obscenely full, pink lips.

All he knows is that as much as this doesn’t make sense, it also suddenly does. Why he’d felt drawn to sign up in the first place. Why he spent the last month reading about the history of Pride in Edinburgh and around the world. Why he’d gone on a deep dive doing research about different sexualities, brushing it off as wanting to be informed before meeting new people.

Why he was so obsessed with Henry’s dick.

Jesus fuck.

He thinks he manages to hold a short conversation. Somehow he even gives Henry the custom button he brought as a joke, smiling the whole time like he’s not moment’s away from dropping to his knees. He flees the table safe in the knowledge that Henry will likely be too busy coordinating stuff all day and Alex probably won’t see him again. That confidence is shattered when, not even an hour later, Henry shows up at the station Alex is supposed to be working. He’s even wearing the joke button, under his regular pronoun button and next to a little rainbow flag pin. Alex is going to die.

“Oh hey,” Alex says in a reasonable facsimile of nonchalance. “Did you need me for something?”

“Not exactly,” Henry replies. “I’ll be working this station too.”

Yeah, Alex is definitely not going to make it through the day.

~~~~~

It actually turns out to be not as bad as he feared, despite how Henry’s volunteer t-shirt is probably a size too small (never mind that in the context of everyone else at Pride he looks downright conservative) and Alex keeps getting caught staring at his shoulders or his back or his waist. Henry keeps on giving him weird looks at the beginning, probably because he’s expecting Alex to be cracking crude jokes. Too bad Alex is way too wound up in his own head to think of anything at all.

They’re pretty busy all day, but they do get a chance to chat occasionally, mostly small talk stuff about jobs and how they both ended up in Edinburgh. Henry is there for grad school, apparently, and has been volunteering for Pride since he moved out from under his grandmother’s restrictive shadow. In turn, Alex tells him about applying for the law job on a whim, desperate to set himself apart from his parents, and how much he likes Edinburgh (despite the weather). As the day stretches on and the streets fill up, Alex feels himself relaxing into his skin again, undeniably enjoying the festivities as well as Henry’s company.

See, the other thing he never, ever expected is how good it feels to be here. All the people around him loudly comfortable in themselves, and the color and glitter and celebration— it’s amazing, but it’s not just that he’s watching other people be happy. There’s a kind of ecstatic joy that bubbles up inside him at the fact that he’s part of it, one that he feels down to his bones. A sense of belonging that he’s never really experienced before, and that, more than anything else, makes him more certain of his newfound revelation.

Straight people probably don’t feel like this at Pride.

At the end of the day, he’s helping pack up the main volunteer tent when he comes across a table full of pins depicting different pride flags. He dimly remembers seeing them when he’d checked in and thinking that none of them applied to him. Now, he stares down at them and bites his lower lip uncertainly.

“There’s a box for those under the table,” Henry tells him from across the tent, misinterpreting his hesitation.

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Alex says, and Henry’s already turning back to whatever he’s doing when he manages to continue, “Hey, can I— um, can I take one of these?”

Henry stops, his brow creasing as he tips his head slightly. “Of course. That’s what they’re there for.”

“Right, thanks,” Alex says with a tight smile.

He puts his hand out, hesitates, then picks up one with pink, purple, and blue stripes. Stares down at it for another moment before he realizes he’s probably being weird and he’s pretty sure Henry is still watching him. He swallows hard, then pins it to his shirt next to his pronoun button.

No one jumps out to call him out for being an impostor. Henry offers him a careful smile, then turns back to his work like he knows Alex needs a moment to himself. He lets his fingers rub over the surface of the pin, feeling the little enamel ridges, and something settles under his skin, like an itch he hadn’t even been aware of until it was gone.

He feels almost normal by the time Henry walks up to him once they’re finished and everything is packed away in someone’s car.

“Thanks so much for your help today,” Henry says. 

“It was my pleasure,” Alex replies, and means it more than he can say. “I’m really glad I decided to sign up.”

“I realize you may very well be tired of my face at this point, but if you don’t already have plans, I was wondering if you’d like to go get a drink?”

Alex would like to make a joke about how it might be literally impossible to get tired of Henry’s face, but at this point he’d probably fuck up and confess his undying love for a guy he just met. “Sounds great,” he says instead, looking around at where a few of the other volunteers are lingering nearby. “Do y’all usually all go out together afterward?”

Henry coughs slightly and glances down at the ground for a few seconds as his cheeks turn faintly pink. “Well yes, a group of them usually do. But I was actually asking if you wanted to go out with me,” he says. “Just the two of us.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes as his stomach decides to do a backflip. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Spending all day volunteering with Henry was fun. Going on a date with Henry, being the sole focus of his attention, is intoxicating. Alex feels like he could sit here all night listening to Henry talk about his research on queer history, although that’s far from the only thing they talk about. As the night wears on and the pub slowly empties, Alex is buzzing with a few drinks and the euphoria of really clicking with someone, already wondering when would be too soon to ask Henry out again.

Henry shifts slightly so his legs press against Alex’s where they’re tangled together under the table—have been for several hours, actually. He’s playing with the stirrer in his empty glass, and a little teasing smirk sneaks onto his lips as he looks up at Alex.

“So you made me a custom pronoun button but forgot your own?”

“Ah, you know,” Alex replies with a shit-eating grin and a one-shouldered shrug, “thought it would be too distracting, what with how everyone would be hitting on me all day.”

Henry hums thoughtfully, biting back a wider smile. “If you wanted to avoid that, you probably should have chosen some looser trousers.”

“That’s fair. I suppose you had to go for the room in yours.” Alex pauses a beat. “You know, on account of the size of your dick.”

That makes Henry actually laugh and shake his head fondly. “I was waiting all day for that.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Alex says, chuckling along with him. It does feel like he owes Henry something of an explanation of why he was so weird all day. He looks down and licks his lips. “Can I confess something?”

“Of course,” Henry answers with a small, encouraging smile.

“A friend of mine suggested I volunteer for this because I wanted to meet people. Make new friends. But until today I actually thought I was… mostly straight?” Alex admits, trying not to wince as he stares fixedly into his empty glass. “Being part of this made me realize why I always felt a little like I wasn’t my whole self. So I was… kind of going through it a bit today.” He pauses, then adds, “Also you’re so ridiculously fucking hot that you kind of melted my brain.”

Henry laughs again, but it’s softer this time. Gentle. Alex kind of wants to sink into the sound. Henry’s cheeks are slightly pink as he extends a hand across the table, and Alex doesn’t hesitate before he slides his hand into Henry’s and links their fingers together.

“I’m glad to hear that, Alex,” Henry says. “I mean, the feeling like your whole self part. Not the brain melting part,” he adds, and Alex can’t help but laugh with him.

Henry doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk outside, and once they’re alone on the sidewalk he uses it to pull Alex close. He puts a hand on Alex’s hip and Alex has to tip his head up to look at him, and it’s a lot but he’s also pretty sure he’s never wanted anything more than to feel Henry’s lips pressed against his.

“I have a confession too,” Henry murmurs as he stares down into Alex’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been dreaming of kissing you since the very first moment I saw you.”

Alex lets one corner of his mouth tug upwards. “What’s stopping you, baby?”

“Christ, Alex,” Henry breathes, looking momentarily overwhelmed, but then he’s pressing his lips to Alex’s, and Alex feels his blood sing. It’s brief and chaste and leaves him aching for more, but then Henry looks down at him with heavy lidded eyes and asks, “Given your recent personal revelations, would it be terribly forward of me to ask you back to my place?”

“Ask away, sweetheart,” Alex replies, then he reaches up to touch the side of the ridiculous he/hung button that Henry is still wearing for some reason. “I wanna find out how accurate this button is.”

(It doesn’t take long for him to find out that the answer is: extremely.)

[shmreduplication]

unsurprisingly, whatever hack hit Lydia's youtube channel also fucked the queued posts :(

fortunately i have v good friends who make delicious food for thanksgiving and are up-to-date on hacks that affect projects that I'm working on and send me a link to a dropbox account with all the vids saved to it, and that has a link to dailymotion which should work with tumblr's video embed code so the posts should be fine once I replace all the urls

here are the blogs if you want to follow now, nothing is going to be posted there at least until 2025 but you can go ahead and follow now. realtime lbd (just going to be the vids), realtime lbd socmed (will have the tweets and tumblr posts)

so here's the updated to-do list:

keep screenshotting tweets and hope they don't delete the accounts before I'm done

group the tweets by day

schedule like 400 posts that are just the tweets from each day. Probably less because I don't think there are tweets from literally every day but I haven't gotten to Lydia yet

Update all the Lydia vids with the dailymotion links

pick profile and header pics for both blogs

make and schedule some posts advertising that this is going to be a thing and put them in the LBD and P&P tags

maybe some countdown posts too? idk

message Hank Green to see if he'll post about it because obviously there's audience overlap

add image descriptions to all the tweets

think about the fact that everyone is making a self portrait of all times with everything they do so that these two blogs are going to be a self portrait of me even tho i'm literally reposting other people's work and if someone else posted the same vids and tweets then they'd pick different ones and it would come out differently

(optional) watch the Colin Firth version and the very pink 2003 modern AU version because I just got those on dvd

(optional) rewatch the Keira Knightly version

(optional) watch Nothing Much To Do, a vlog version of Much Ado About Nothing, which I only found out about recently

???

profit

sit back and enjoy march 2025-2027 as the queues for both blogs run and I don't have to do anything else because they're fully set up

[shootingstarrfish]

Yay, you finally reblogged it!! <33

Might as more some other time, we'll seeeeeee

⸺ RELATIONSHIPS & PERSONALITY ⸺

02: On a scale of 1 to 10, how annoying are they to Lucifer? :) Had to hehe <3 017: What is a side of themself they don't want other to see? When does that side reveal itself?

⸺ CONCEPT AND DESIGN ⸺

08: Anything you heavily associate with them? A color, a word, a picture, or something else? 10: How about some angst headcanons? >:)

⸺ HUMAN ⸺

01: How old are they? no ulterior motive behind asling this one nuh-uh

YAYYY THANK YOU MELLLL

02:

100000 lucifer is so sick of this bitch send tweet

017:

OOH BOY he tends to come off pretty carefree, and sometimes mayyybe a lil bit shallow? but he tends to contemplate things very deeply, which he sees as a flaw since it makes him overly emotional about things that other people perceive as small so it's not a part of himself he really enjoys sharing

that side kinda just reveals itself normally anyway, he's not exactly great at hiding it, but a part of why he gets along with Belphie so well is that he feels more comfortable willingly sharing this side of himself since Belphie gets it

who else are you suddenly gonna ask "do you ever think about what death is like" and immediately be met with an understanding "yeah"

08:

this is really silly but when a person's jacket falls off their shoulder... it always makes me think about him he is like the brothers, incapable of wearing a jacket properly

10:

it's definitely not unique to say that post lesson 16 was his lowest point, yes because of *gestures at everything that happened* but it was made worse by his interaction with asmo before shit really hit the fan asmo genuinely appreciates the fact that sidra doesnt really care about his appearance or popularity and what he values is who asmo actually is, so the second he believes that their entire relationship existed so sidra could get to belphie, he's absolutely crushed and he begins to doubt all their previous interactions

so while sidra's trying to process the fact that he was killed, he can't even turn to the person he was closest to because, even though it was a big misunderstanding, he did accidentally end up hurting asmo and he just feels way too overwhelmed with everything going on to even think about trying to patch things up at this point even though in the long run it'd make everything a lot easier but it's hard so he just isolates himself further and sends himself into an even worse spiral and-

its ok tho the purgatory hall gang helps him a lot at this point and eventually they sort it out

01:

wowie thank you for asking!!!!!!! he's 33!!! which has the most stupid backstory that i will explain because i want to hehehe

so originally he was going to be like 25 or whatever, not for any particular reason it just seemed fitting enough but i remember seeing a tweet about how kasane teto being in her 30s was very important for maximum cuteness and i thought to myself huh... that's a good point actually, sidra needs to be in his 30s too for maximum cuteness

and also hit japanese singer mafumafu is in his 30s and he is very cute so it just made sense at that point

and then he was gonna be vaguely somewhere in his 30s for a while UNTIL ex and bee happened and i thought itd be hilarious if he was 1 year younger than ex and ex was really mortified about being the same age as sidra so now he's 33...

mc ask game!

[proseka-headcanons]

hi it’s melody. that’s right i’m back

i’ve been thinking about the transkasa hit post-post a lot and now i’ve acquired a new headcannon (thanks this is your fault /J)

every june every year tsukasa will swap out his signature orange flag for the trans flag (or whatever tsukasa headcannon you have) and keep it like that for the whole month

it’s rubbed off on emu to the point she will carry around a tiny baby flag with her pride flag on it

ehehe it is indeed my fault thank you. anyways YES YES adopting this. i have the right to answer this because i'm the mod who made the transkasa post but okay handing this over to mod rui now! - 🎀

YESSS SHE SO WOULD!!! tfemme tsukasa carrying trans flag during june send tweet

[sillysnack]

remembering every post in my saiki k twitter series and. here are the headcanons.

why do i have 28 of these? jesus christ. out of all the cast, the ones i'm pretty sure would be really online in canon are chiyo, imu, shun, mikoto, maybe reita, kusuo's a lurker, touma, kokomi...

all of them have a social media presence, duh. but, like...

anyway. since there Are 28 saiki k twitter compilation posts, i have inserted a fuck ton of headcanons 😭😭😭 like these are. sooo many. 😢

[established relationships] torisai, teruimu, mikochiyo, kubokai. classics.

yumesaisaisai friendship (chiyo & kusuo & kusuke & metori)

^ following up on that, kusuo and chiyo like sending to metori items they want bought for them. ("oh but kusuo wouldn't–" whatever!)

teruhashi kokomi's a tv girl fan

they're all lesbians. hit them with the lesbian beam, one by one. i think mikoto's the only one who hasnt outright said shes lesbian in my series

speaking of my lesbian headcanons, one particular post of mine that blew up coincidentally had kokomi calling herself a lesbian and omg some of the comments r so annoying like "ahhh she has a crush on kusuo though" "when did she say that!" like god forbid the lesbian (ME) headcanons xyr favorite characters as lesbian as well 😒

she/he saiki kusuo; she/they imu rifuta

kusuo and shun both eat plain pasta? it's their preference??? it's what made kokomi. stop having a crush on kusuo?!?$?^?^?<????

^ i was eating plain pasta at the time. most of my saiki k twitter posts are just influenced by my daily life. i used to get comments like "these r so creative" thanks. thats all just me. i dont give much thought to those.

one post, i had kusuo tweet out her thoughts on Starbucks' coffee jelly frappe; literally just My actual thoughts that i altered a bit to make it more kusuo-like. i never ordered that frappe again.

kusuo, chiyo, and shun? are fans of project sekai

chiyo's a fan of d4dj, shun's an enstarrie, and imu's a bandori fan (eve oshi :-))

toritsuka reita and teruhashi kokomo are The. strawberry shortcake fans

metori and kokomi are the only ones who are verified (Not the twitter blue one)

kusuo has a separate priv account with zero followers

kokomi has a priv account with only four followers (chiyo, kusuo, imu, and mikoto)

akechi touma is a hater of words like funnily and bookworm.

kusuke and reita are gleeks. thats my fault... i'm bingewatching glee.

omg. following up on the saiki kusuo project sekai player— he is a ichika hoshino oshi

reita has one-sided beef with satou

kusuo does not like whipped cream

nendou created his twitter account with the help of his mom 🩵

imu, shun, and kusuo have broken the fourth wall

aren is a fan of persona 5 and has compared kusuo to akiren. kusuo unfortunately has no idea who he is.

mera and aren have the same part time jobs

one kokomin threatened to bomb kusuo using a photo of kajii motojirou from bsd. this isn't a headcanon, it's just one of my favorite things from the series.

im remembering a lot more but. holy fuck. this post is long 😭

[stormblessed95]

Hiii stormie my dear, how are you? first of all, i wanted to say that i adore your blog and i think u are a breath of fresh air here. Thank you! Because i trust u, I wanted to say some things im thinking about since seven released, i hope u dont mind.

Ok, like jk says: lets get it! Right, I do understand people feeling sad about jimin and face era. It was awful how sabotaged he was, and i still dont get what really happened and i'm mad to whatever or whoever is responsible for it. But i'm seeing so many people doubting the veracity in jungkookie's success with seven and i'm hating it. I dont think the song is getting payola, nor playlists by paying for it and neither ads on youtube. First, the song was sent to radios, but just a few of them r playing it, one of them being a guy who loves to plays "k-pop" songs. If there was payola, it would be playing everywhere all the time already. The playlist thing: just like "like crazy eng. ver", seven entered the Today's Top Hits playlist. But at #23 place. I just saw a tweet by a guy talking about this: https://twitter.com/cantorpedia/status/1680258574688088066?s=20. We know that there's some shady thing happening in this playlist for a while, and if seven have deals to get this high debut numbers, it would had debuted at the top in the playlist, even in the cover (it may go up next week, because there is supposed to be some internal logic that the more a song receives streams IN the playlist, the more it rises). Also, seven had a huge filtering in spotify, just like all BTS' songs, which also shows that they r not making deals. Now, about Youtube ads... i saw a person posting a ss about seeing an ad of the song, but apparently is fake.

Seven is doing AWESOME numbers because: its a english catchy song, with a cute mv, sang by THEE Jeon Jungkook. Im not joking, seven is really a gp success.. yesterday i saw 3 people from my daily life and inner circle talking about loving the song. My sister, who is not an army, said that she listened to the song all day while i was not home. Gp is loving it. So they did with butter (which is a eng song too), but Seven has a differential: the clean and explict version r being counted combined. Plus, seven is doing awesome everywhere, even in korean charts.

If there was something shady going on, i dont think they would make more than 1 version for the song, even on youtube (there is a new perfomance video for the explict ver). They would just send to radios and count on the payola and the deals w spotify, tiktok, youtube, for the charts (thats what most western artists does). But since billboard started filtering the songs so much so that made like crazy drop from 1 to 45 in a week and then stopped counting digital versions from usa based artist stores, BTS had to start making available to fans different versions of the same song because they know they cant count on radio, but can count on the sales and streams. Since Like Crazy, i feel like Hybe is experimenting ways of overcoming the sabotage by the industry.

The thing is, i think we can and should talk and raise questions about how jimin was treated badly, in every chart and streaming platform. For example, views from youtube were not being frozen in Yoongi's songs too, just like jk's. So, its not a privilege that jk is receiving, its just that something was really happening with face promotions, who knows what and why. But that was not jk's or any member fault.

Anyway, i'm happy for jk and i know much more is coming his way. And i cant wait for jimin to make a new comeback soon too. I hope it all goes well yk, Jimin deserves the best in his promotions just like jk and the other members. Lets hope. I'm sorry for hijacking your tumblr for this rant, im hoping u have some thoughts on the subject

Rant shared. I shared my thoughts about most of this a few weeks ago, I'm sure anyone who wants to can still scroll to go find it all, I'm not *really* wanting to open it all back up for discussion again. People are VILE honestly. I enjoy the song, it's fun, it's not much more than that and it's clearly made to be a western audience radio hit. Jungkook deserves and has my full support though! 💜 thanks for sharing