#the 2000 line and i would have had a time

[p-sunghoonies]

Hello, where were boys like you when I was in high-school?

[elexuscal]

Danny Phantom, The Show:

geeky kid gets super powers from his parents' weird inventions! now he has to fight a rogue gallery of ghosts... but uh-oh! he still has to keep his grades up, deal with his embarrassing parents, and navigate girl troubles! rap theme song!

Danny Phantom, the Fandom, After 19 Years of Fermentation:

a child dies. but not quite. the inherent tension between life and death. the obsession of the dead for faded remnants of the living. warped green shadows on the walls of a dark laboratory. having to hide your true nature from those who should be your greatest allies. the fear of the monster you could become if you let yourself. being a ghost as a metaphor for the trans experience. a cold breath on the back of your neck in the dead of the night. rap theme song!

[malachitezmeyka]

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t 12 when I came up with Suiren and Midori cause why the fuck do both of them have Japanese names

[shannonsketches]

You think you'll never get old and then one day you log on and there's a "First Manga" poll that Bleach, Sailor Moon, Naruto, and DBZ didn't make the cut for

[thebibliosphere]

Hey, so it turns out we’ve been living with two gas leaks in our house for an unknown amount of time and we need to replace our entire furnace unit. There are people coming on Thursday to do it.

We are taking out a line of credit to get it done because for our safety we have to, but the interest is significant.

I feel like I’m asking for a miracle, but if I can sell 2000 ebooks or 500 audiobooks of Hunger Pangs through my Payhip, that would cover it. You can also gift people copies through Payhip gifting system or by donating to the donate pile so I can run giveaways.

The water heater still needs replaced but that leak has been addressed safely and is no longer slowly killing us.

If you like what I do and want to support me in other ways I have a Patreon and a Ko-fi. (You can ignore the 18+ warning that comes up on my Patreon, they’ve had me wrongly flagged as an adult content creator for years.)

Please, I cannot stress this enough do not give money you don’t have. Even sharing this and telling people about my books is a wonderful help. I’m just trying to alleviate some of the financial strain from Mothman.

I’m going to have a lie down now in a well-ventilated space. Maybe have a soothing scream first.

[tender-rosiey]

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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do not copy or plagiarize or I will tell @callmemirro

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[godjustkys]

you asked me for this and it's an idea so—

wondering if we could see dean getting absolutely ruined in the backseat of his baby while he gets degraded for being so damn desperate that they had to pull over and into a field during the middle of the night while the radio is still playing or something, idfk and they have passionate sex in the backseat because dean's that much of a whore? (male reader obviously on top)

pretty please? 🙏

THEME: passionate car sex with a desperate dean.

CHARACTER: male reader x dean winchester

NOTE: i love writing dean to be an absolute mess. ALSO THANK YOU <3

idfk what im doing. WHY IS EVERYTHING I WRITE SO SHORT.

p.s. requests are always open!

WARNING: car sex,, degradation,, raw dogging it fr,, pet names,, light dacryphilia,, extremely pathetic dean,,

“ngh— don’t- jus’.. come on, fuck.” dean whined quietly, his back pressed to the car door's panel, head resting against the window. “what? no prep? I can’t fucking believe it..” you mused with a scoff, briefly glancing at the radio that was playing. “you are being such a slut right now,” you mumbled, pushing the tip of your cock inside of dean's hole, slowly. good thing you had a bit of lube on it, otherwise dean would’ve been writhing already. “taking my cock like this, in the back of Baby. in the middle of fucking nowhere, too,” you continuing berating him, even with a gentle voice. “you’re— mghh, shit..” dean cut himself off, resisting the urge to shy away as it was slightly uncomfortable. instead, he forced himself to push his hips down, groaning as he clenched around your length. “you’re the one who gave me a handjob, w—.. while I was driving.” he forced out, his hands gripping your biceps. “need I remind you that you’re the one who asked for it? begged for it, I should say.” you cleared up, pulling out slowly; though your tip caught on his rim.

with a harsh thrust forward, dean's stomach tensed. a whiny moan left his throat, eyebrows furrowing at the same time. you started to move slowly, unable to resist the urge to fuck him to the rhythm of the music playing; some early 2000’s upbeat song. dean tilted his head back as much as possible, gritting his teeth, his hands clenching around your arms. “that’s it, baby, yeah, keep takin’ my cock like this.” you breathed out, leaning down so your lips would be in line with dean's ear. “just like you were made for this, you desperate whore,” you mumbled softly, your lips grazing his earlobe. he squirmed slightly in response. you knew he was ticklish but still, it was fun. “i- i am n—” dean started with a strained voice, though you quickly cut him off. “don’t you try to deny it. i’m the one fucking you in the backseat of your car..” you trailed off just a bit, your mind reeling at the feeling of dean around you. it just always amazes you. “..in a stupid field.. all because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.” you continued, now ignoring the beat of the music and slowing your pace to a deep, yet leisure one.

“mmm— i jus’— you know damn well it wasn’t like that—” dean explained with a pleading voice, bordering on whiny now. his thighs moved to wrap around your waist, squeezing slightly. “yeah?” you mumbled with a harsh thrust, bottoming out. your tip just grazed against his prostate and he was gone. dean gasped breathlessly, his back arching off of the seat a little. “with the way you’re moaning right now, i’d say this is what you’ve been thinking of all day.” you mumbled, pressing an opened mouth kiss to the side of his jaw. dean squirmed once again, letting out a small whimper as his hands slid up to hold onto your neck. “i mean, you didn’t.. fuck.. you didn’t even want to get prepped.” you spoke against his skin, your lips grazing his stubble. “you’re just that desperate for my cock, huh?” you cooed softly, kissing him tenderly. dean reciprocated, though he was late and his kiss was sloppy, extremely uncoordinated. you continued the deep thrusts, bit by bit increasing your pace. “oh— mghhh..” dean whined out, his blinking excessive and frequent. he kept you close, looking at you through his eyelashes, his eyes narrowly open.

“want me to fuck you good, hm? you can moan as loud as you want to, pretty, no one’ll hear you.” you spoke in a hushed tone, your eyes locked on his. suddenly, dean focused on the car rocking, creaking, every time you thrusted into him. he let out a soft, small whine, tilting his head back as much as he could, his mouth open in a little 'o' shape. his thighs trembled slightly, his chest heaving. “you’re a sight,” you murmured, shifting your hips to a more suitable angle. “quit—! it..” dean managed weakly, his eyes screwed shut. his fingers pressed to the nape of your neck, keeping you as close as you’d let him. you just grinned in response, your own hands on the soft flesh of his thighs, quickening your pace to a fast yet steady one. little “ah-ah-ah’s” left his open mouth each time you thrusted in, his body somewhat arched off of the seat. it was a matter of time until you drove deeper and deeper into him, abusing his prostate. dean’s moans got significantly louder, whinier, more high pitched. he started to writhe, his hands getting clammy, eyelashes fluttering. he was coming undone.

dean’s voice was breaking mid-moans more often than not. he even let out a squeal of all things. “you feel so fuckin’ good..” you moaned out, your voice low. dean’s hands shakily glided down your torso, his fingertips catching onto the material of your shirt. he was begging to feel your skin with no words, only actions. “hh-hah..shit.. shitshitshit, ah— nghnnn..” dean’s hips jerked as he clenched around you, his face scrunched so adorably. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was in pain. your cock was unfathomably deep inside dean, he could feel it so well; every vein, every small ridge, everything. he was tight, no matter how many times you have done this, he was always impervious. just for you. your cock. one of your hands skimmed up, just over his v-line and his weeping dick, brushing your fingers across the happy trail. he was so, so fucking pretty. “g—gah- mothe—rr..fucker.” he grunted out, his voice strained, raspy. his fingers gripped your shirt and pulled you close, just as you noticed the tears on his lashes. your lips ghosted over his and you pulled your face away swiftly, causing dean to let out a pathetic whimper, chasing after your lips desperately. “mh, you’re close, aren’t you?” you teased, your digits wrapping around his cock, giving him slow experimental pumps. dean’s pupils were blown wide as he looked up at you, his gaze blurry. the sounds that were spilling from his mouth were filthy; slutty, downright whore-ish. he fit so snuggly around you, you just couldn’t help it. you had to ruin him.

dean inhaled sharply as he felt your hand around him and his hips jerked upwards, into your hand. pathetic, yes, but he didn’t care. “agh—! oh.. oh- oh fuck—” he spoke through gasps, his back slightly sliding downwards, the back of his head now resting against the door panel itself. he was about to cum; it was obvious. he started whispering your name like a prayer. you felt him twitch in your hand and contract around you. “make a mess like the whore that you are. c’mon baby.” you encouraged him sweetly, his thighs shaking relentlessly around your waist. you were close to your orgasm as well. who wouldn’t be with such a scene in front of them? “nnnhhh— ah- hahh..haah, hhnn—” he cut himself off with a choked mix of a whine and sob, his abdomen tensing as he finally came. you slowed your pace yet kept the depth the same, making it easier for dean to ride out his orgasm. he clenched around your cock time and time again as he heaved, even though he had a hard time inhaling oxygen. he was really out of breath. you came inside dean with no warning and he let out a high-pitched, extremely loud whimper, the feeling of that warm liquid pooling inside him making him very horny again. you glanced up, noticing the foggy windows. you took a moment to catch your breath. “again? really wanna make you moan your lungs out.” you mused nonchalantly, keeping your cock buried inside dean.

dean blinks up at you, his voice hoarse and small as he speaks. “y-yeah.. yeah again. fuck.. make me scream, don’t care. jus’ don’t stop.”

[scarlettmurphy]

STARCROSSED +ੈ✩‧₊˚ LOGAN HOWLETT.

logan and y/n — where you are completely in love with a man older then your father by a good 100 years.. and whose in love with another.

- content warning age gap. nsfw. sh. angst. not really happy endings! pairings: older!logan howlett x xaiver!reader

spoiler: horrible yearning!

note this is my first piece of work so i hope it’s okay! i love logan sm i had to write something for him — and this is really angsty :) pls ignore if there’s any bad grammar! i’m a bit lazy rn, also with the timeline for this fic i have no idea when im going for. im saying 2000s-2010s just remember its a bit scrambled timeline wise cos i wanted my favs here!🤭 enjoy!

you hated when he was around. you couldn’t stand it anymore. your longing glances to him, the yearning looks you gave him which were never returned and only thrown back into your face when you saw how he was looking at jean the way you looked at him.. it had all been getting too much. at first you acted like it didn’t bother you and part of your school-girl crush deluded brain pretend you were just seeing things but as the weeks / months had passed you realised that was the furthest thing from the truth.

recently you couldn’t even bring yourself to glance at him because it hurt too much and that wasn’t even being dramatic, the aching feeling in your heart wasn’t worth getting a glimpse of his timeless beauty so every time he was around you bit down the urges swallowed your pride and acted as if he was nobody to you, just a good friend. a father figure, a teammate.

it felt rude at first, to you since you were the only one noticing it, how you just stopped all those little things you were doing but you couldn’t help it or stop yourself from being like that because it was too hard to deal with — loving someone so much with all your heart but you knew you couldn’t have them. you hated to admit it but it destroyed you and that little part of you right now was falling into a full blown rage as you sat on the sofa alongside logan and wade — charles, hank, scott and rogue being present in the room too.

“i just don’t get her.” scott said out, repeating the same line over again, still bitching about the fight him and jean had after they all got back from the mission — everyone could hear the screaming and scott’s harsh gaze when he entered the room just confirmed it all and the second,of course, logan asked a question after wade made a snarky comment that set off scott and he hadn’t stopped mansplaining it since.

“yea’ well certain people don’t.” logan gruffly spoke out as y/n couldn’t stop her eyes from moving over to him at his words, feeling a sense of hurt coarse through her like it usually did whenever he spoke about jean or implied her. everyone knew what logan’s comment meant and y/n could see how scott was biting his tongue, clearly pissed off like he always was around logan. for good reason.

the tension only grew worse when scott couldn’t help himself and made a comment right back at him, his eyebrows raised as he stood from his seat. charles attention turning right to scott instead of logan, “and what’s that supposed to mean, asshole?” scott spat out like his words were venom.

rogue rolling her eyes at his words as hank shared a little glance with y/n who was cursing the entire situation in her brain as she couldn’t stop herself from looking at logan — those very same feelings boiling in her body as she saw the way his mouth twitched and his jaw clenched. how protective he was getting over jean, a feeling y/n couldn’t help have been wishing for the past two years of knowing the man he would get like over her — sure in a friends way he might’ve done it before, at least that’s how she saw but it never like this.

y/n swore she could physically feel her heart aching.

“pretty sure you know what that means pal.” logan bit back harshly, his words falling to the same tone as scott’s did as scott scoffed at what he said as he bit back with full frustration as charles clearly wanted to get involved - a little grimance pictured on his face as y/n studied her fathers expression, him clearly knowing what jean meant to logan, as y/n looked away before her dad could catch her staring her eyes falling onto a pissed off scott who downed the drink he had in his hand, placing it on the table.

“she picked me.” was all scott needed to say as the weight in the room shifted heavily on logan’s end as everyone could see the way logan’s face dropped a little, that comment taking the little coy expression he had right away but y/n didn’t even bring herself to look, scott’s eyes taking her in as if he knew what she was feeling in this moment. his eyes meeting her own as y/n felt a lump form her throat — the tightness almost burning — as he tutted at how silent logan was before he walked out the room without another word.

with this the room fell silent. everyone knowing the feelings logan must’ve been harbouring right now, y/n especially, as she glanced over to him not expecting to be met with his brown eyes looking back at her as he took in her expression before he roughly got up without another word — going right over to the door.

chaeles couldn’t help himself as he spoke up firmly the second he watched logan head for the door, “logan—“

“just goin’ for a piss, wheels.” he roughly said back before the door shut right behind him.

“more like a bitchless weaping session.” wade couldn’t help say as he had left the room, hank and rogue not being able to help their little laughs from coming out as y/n bit down on the inside of her cheek limiting the feelings she was experiencing as much as she could before she stood up.

“—i’m going to shower.” y/n said out lowly, her words slipping out quickly as the others nodded or hummed in agreement, wades eyebrows furrowing as he clearly felt he knew more of the situation then the rest did but he kept that to himself.

“take some pics for me!” wade called back to her, earning a little look from charles as hank scoffed in reply.

— +ੈ✩‧₊˚

that shower was more like watching a re run of singing in the rain which y/n couldn’t help watch the entirety of for no specific reason before she eventually hoped in the shower. the faint sounds of her speakers being heard as she hummed along to the lyrics of the specific song as she felt the cold water glide down her naked body.

swallowing the pain-filled whimpers that were aching to escape her wet lips as she acted as if the water gracing against all those marks and burns on her skin wasn’t killing her inside despite her ‘little’ case of immortality. immortality sadly didn’t mean you never experienced pain and y/n was clearly the leading case proving that matter as she soon got out the shower after washing her hair and her body.

wrapping the towel around her dainty body as she took in herself in the mirror, the thoughts forming in her brain being within the ‘self loathing’ category as she exited her bathroom. her face falling once she was met with the gruff expression on logans face which turned to one of shock as his eyes scanned over y/n immediately. him swallowing his own spit as y/n hands immediately wrapped around her towel just to make sure it wouldn’t fall.

“lo— shit, i didn’t know you were here.” she quickly managed out, her face a bright shade of red as she watched as logan didn’t move his gaze off her figure.

“—wait.” not a single word escaping his lips as y/n walked over to her bed where her clothes were laid out for her.

y/n’s breath was hitched and she swore she felt all the heat rush to her face as she took in the way logan was just staring at her as she grabbed her clothes with her other hand, taking a few steps back into the bathroom before she swiftly shut the door. her mind a mess as she quickly put on her pajamas before she sprung over to the mirror to double check her appearance before she walked back out to her bedroom.

logan being in the exact same place she had left him — not a single word had left his lips and his facial expression was the exact same as y/n nervously smiled at him.

“what are you doing— uh, here?” y/n asked him swiftly, her words rushed as she swore she could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she saw logan slowly seem to come back to reality, scratching the back of his neck as his lips parted as he tried to say something.

yet it took a little for something to come out as y/n swore she felt something growing in the air as logan finally spoke, his gruff tone a little knocked back then usual, “was coming here to bitch about scott. didn’t mean to see anything i shouldn’t have.”

his words sent a little chill through y/n’s spine as she managed a little smile on her lips, no matter how fake it was she still managed it, as she looked at him. his first words being all the confirmation her heart needed in this moment as she held back her feelings as she felt her heart tense.

“it’s okay.” y/n rolled out quietly, her attention falling over to her bed as she walked over to the foot off it — sitting down on the edge of the bed as logan stayed in place, his arms crossed as he leaned against the fireplace in her room now.

“so scott, you wanna bitch?” y/n trailed off into as logan looked out the window, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he shrugged his shoulders.

“nah, not anymore.” he said, his voice low as y/n took in his hush voice — his words only adding to the building up tension that was making the air thick as y/n looked at him. her eyes taking in every inch off him and how he looked, her mind wondering how he’d feel.. how’d he’d taste.

yet her thoughts were immediately cut short.

“—you seen jean about?”

his words were like a harsh hit round the face as she felt a lump for her in throat, her mind tingling a little as she glanced over to the door. she hated this, every inch of this. she wanted to scream, punch him in the face. confess right there and there at him but she didn’t. she couldn’t.

no matter how much it killed her inside. every second without him being like a gun shot to the heart as she plainly looked back at him, a soft smile growing on her face which was so fake it was indescribable as she nodded to her bedroom door.

“her room, i guess.”

her low words were enough to make anyone know she was hurt yet of course logan didn’t, or he didn’t show he knew as he gave her a playful wink.

“thanks bub.” he said with a nod as he went to walk out the room — his hand on the door when y/n heard his muttered words.

“sleep well y/n.”

his words fell into silence as y/n watched him leave, the door closing behind him being the utmost reminder of how her feelings will probably never be acknowledged. and that harsh reality left her alone in her bedroom for the entire night and with every toss and turn her mind was on one thing and one thing only. him.

— +ੈ✩‧₊˚

[pedgito]

𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | Logan Howlett x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

summary | with no threshold for pain, logan finds that losing control with you is easier, triggering a thirst that is insatiable.

author's note | um.......yeah idk. i have no excuse and while i still write predominately for pedge boys i had to. i couldn't help it. am i sorry? no. is this insane? a little. special thanks to @ovaryacted, @pr0ximamidnight & @wannab-urs for being the best and reading this over

content warning | 18+ smut, written with x-men (2000)!logan in mind, mutant!reader, established relationship, hand kink (and sensitivity), pain kink, blood kink, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), exchange of bodily fluids (yes its bl*od), mentions of exhibitionism, also kinda body worship, this turned out way kinkier than it was supposed to be

word count —2.2k

Logan was never soft, but he’s learned to smooth out his sharp edges for you.

And while he was never shy, he wasn’t always open about his claws slipping out near climax when things got a little too out of control or his mind would slip, bordering into that animalistic ferocity he sometimes drifted into when he was more desperate.

Just a touch, a lick, a press of his skin against yours and he’d haul you onto whatever surface was close by and rail you into a near amnesic state of consciousness. It made you feel like you were floating, allowing his superhuman strength to lift you up and off to bed, spending most of those nights in his room rather than your own.

You weren’t a thing, it had never been established. But, Logan has grown comfortable, familiar, and he was appreciative of it, even if he didn’t show it. It came with the kisses when you slipped into his room after heavy training evenings or a night where he just needed some entertainment, something to keep him occupied. 

He liked your company even if it was never spoken aloud. 

The signs came when you would scoot away on the couch to give him space when you both would drift into meaningless conversation that would in turn mold into you, in his lap after a soft tug and a complacent smirk on his face.

You’ve grown fond of him, his wittiness and unrestrained personality that was often subdued under a dark, brooding facade, his body too—strong, chiseled arms and a well-defined chest. He was big, everywhere. All-consuming and just bordering on the edge of too much. But, it was his hands that really pulled you in.

Thumbs pressing beyond swollen lips as you run the surface of your tongue against his skin, an aid to muffle the whimpers that slip beyond your lips when you’re trying to be quiet—when Logan needs you quiet, teetering on a dangerous line of exhibitionism if you keep it up.

Or the length of his hands squeezing against your hips, pulling you back to meet his thighs as his cock spears you open, his palm often finding on your lower back as he presses you further into the mattress, ass angled up as best you could manage when he was rutting himself into you like he was in heat—gruff, wet pants of a gradually building high against your skin that drove you wild. 

His claws have slipped out a few times—your headboard remained the proof as he’d rid himself of his own long ago, deep but thick holes in the wood that you’re almost positive continued into the drywall. He’s ruined a pillow or two, but there was a surge of excitement that came along with it. 

The sound of them as they slip beyond his skin, not even the slightest grimace on his face as it happens, ultimately taken by his pleasure in overdrive, the action always registers half a second too late.

 Thankfully, you’ve come to sense it well.

You always know just where to touch—what drives him wild and extracts the feral nature in him and what softens his steely regard. Touches along his jaw pull him in, lips pressing against the spot on you mirroring your fingers on him. 

Sometimes it’s nails digging into his indestructible skin, irritated and swollen marks that would fade as quickly as they appeared, no use in drawing blood as it never spilled.

But, the soft and intriguing sounds that slip as you run your fingers along his forearm are something you take note of over time—occasionally just a tickle that he shrugs away with a soft chuckle, slipping his hand between your bodies to play with your clit, leaving him just out of reach as he circles that sensitive bundle of nerves, urging your eyes to stay on him, with him.

He’s always good at talking you through, gentle words of encouragement married with tight, guttural groans as his cock sinks into you, a hand at your thigh to keep you spread open, his gaze always wandering down to marvel at the sight of you and him and you take him so well—he’s told you a million times over by now.

Occasionally his hands will make a slow crawl to your shoulders or your neck, curling around the muscle and cradling you, like an anchor for himself. Your own fingers spread over his grip, right along the ridge of his knuckles. 

At first he tensed, his hands slipping away in a hurry to grip another part of your body, lower, deeper—disconnecting helped and even if he had learned to control the urge to a degree, there was always a chance.

Logan wasn’t oblivious to your own regenerative healing—not entirely indestructible, although the lack of pain receptors made you a viable asset for a plethora of things but being on the other end of a spar with him was still nothing to take lightly, a man of challenge himself, you weren’t leaving that fight without a couple knicks and cuts even though as soon as they appeared, they were then non-existent.

Physically, you were a challenge, nothing for people to underestimate. The perfect torture device, the ideal punching bag. You've learned to subdue the emotion and the mental toll it took, but with Logan, there was an openness to be vulnerable, knowing that you needed the pain just as much as it often displeased you.

Where Logan fears worry and shame, you find the care and curiosity in soothing the spots where his claws tear through, a gentle squeeze of your fingers in the spaces between his knuckles, a kiss to each one and down his wrist, a show of affection while your eyes never leave his own.

Sometimes you did it absently, on the couch while you both drifted to sleep after a long day or during a movie that you’ve thrown on to distract Logan from his own mind—some days he just needed you around in whatever form you had to offer.

There wasn’t a single part of him you didn’t admire and one night, like tonight, things reach culmination and Logan slips.

—

His mouth waters at the sight of you on your back, pussy on full display and your thighs spread wide under his grip as his cock sinks deep and pulls out, right to the tip before he’s drilling himself back inside of you, fingers twisting into the sheets so hard they often rip, eyes drifting close as your head keens back in overwhelming pleasure.

“Bub, eyes on me,” Logan coaxes, his fingers curling around the top of your thighs as they squeeze, keeping you apart and open, pliant under his touch, “keep ‘em on me.”

He hips still, waiting, watching—you peek your eyes open with a shy smile that is met with a smirk, his eyes brimming with warmth, nodding as you listen.

 “Right there, that’s good.”

You roll your eyes fondly, a flutter of your lashes as he pushes inside of you unexpectedly, a sharp and wild snap of his hips that pulls a surprised gasp from your chest, squeezing instinctively around him in response—again and again as your thighs press further and further in until he’s nearly at your chest, his knuckles grazing the underside of your breasts and you beg, tongue wetting your bottom lip as you speak.

“Don’t—please don’t hold back,” you plead—to some degree, he always did, shared mutant powers aside there was always a deep need in Logan’s psyche to protect and inadvertently to shield, “all of it—want all of you.”

As to seal the words with truth, your fingers slide over his hands gripped tightly at your thighs, keeping them still as your feet curl around the back of his thighs and pull him in. Deeper, tighter. Logan chuckles at the motion, almost taunting. There was a sensitivity to the spot where his claws pushed through, a warning of what was to come and like all the other softer, more receptive parts of him, the touch surges a sense of hot, angry need through his entire body.

Easy, his eyes read.

“I like it,” you admit with a gentle swirl of your hips to bring him back, followed by the slow angle and snap in response, “—lose control a little, Logan. Let it out.”

“That part of me—“ Logan begs, but there’s a quiet noise of disapproval from you, your eyes softer as you admire him.

“Is part of you,” you remind him, “and I—“ like an absolute menace, he penetrates hard, rubbing the sensitive swell of muscle inside of you that makes you dizzy, “fuck—I don’t need you to hide yourself.”

Logan goes quiet, contemplating but observant as his hands squeeze against the sound of surprise you make as he grazes your g-spot, a fist pressing against his groin that flattens out into your palm, feeling the flex of his muscles as he works himself inside of you.

“I wanna feel it, I need it to hurt,” You beg, his brows drawing in—pensive for a half-second before you can see the flip of a switch in his head, “you can lose control with me, Logan.”

He practically vibrates as the growl emits from his chest, watching his hands squeeze impossibly tighter before his claws are our, unsheathed before you and you can’t help but smile, a millimeter from splicing through skin that could never keep the memory of it and you run your finger along the base, the slight flicker of discomfort in his face that fades as you began to move against him again.

There was something about pain, that stinging feeling of a wound as the adamantium sliced through you, along the swell of your ribs and breasts, a trickle of blood falling from the cut before it disappeared—and instinctively, Logan’s hand settle away as he leans in and swipes the blood away with his tongue, eyes locked on your own and you quiver, mouth opening in a silent gasp.

He moans at the taste, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the action and to make matters worse, he speaks, blood on his tongue and teeth, “M’pretty sure she tastes even sweeter.”

His eyes flick toward your cunt, a whimper in protest at the loss of his cock as he slips out of you and sinks to his stomach in one fluid motion, his slick covered cock ruining your sheets as he drives his tongue inside of you, nose pressed against your clit as he satisfies the loss of him with more, claws dragging dangerously close to your hips, the tips of his claws pressing into the skin.

His tongue drags up to you clit, lapping up the mix of sweet slick and his own, your hands pressing over top of his to force the sharp edge deeper, slicing through your skin until you feel yourself on the verge of passing out, a small pool of blood gathering at your pelvis.

Your own fingers drag through the thick crimson, spreading it over his waiting mouth as he grins, a perfect picture of greed and pleasure as he dives back into your cunt, a hurried and overwhelming pace against your clit driving you over the edge within seconds, your orgasm crashing toward you far faster than you’re expecting as you cry out, hips lifting from the bed but not without a fight, Logan’s grip pressing you down into mattress to clean you up.

All of you.

He rises with a grin, brutish but charming as he kisses you, tasting yourself on him as your own blood smears your lips, giggling softly into his mouth.

“Inside,” Logan already knows, fist curling around his cock as he slips back inside of you, “—oh fuck, Lo—“

“Greedy girl,” He admonishes amorously and returns his hurried pace, claws sinking into your pillows and mattress, a sorry that would come later for the action but you needed him now, “gonna let me fill you full, huh?”

You nod jerkily, forehead pressed tight against his own as he huffs into your open mouth, a mingling of sacred noises between each other as his hips falter, a broken gasp falling from his lips as he snaps his hips once before he’s buried to the hilt, coming deep inside you cunt.

His claws retract synonymous with his climax as he settles against his now bare fists before he’s falling onto his back with a huff, looking like a fucked-out mess with his hair even more askew than it always it, blood drying at the corner of his mouth as you roll onto your stomach and grab for his hand, pressing a kiss to each knuckle with a soft smile, figuring you must be quiet the sight yourself.

“You have to stop worrying, Logan,” you remind him gently, dropping his hand to move closer, his arm extending and pressing against your back as you curl into him, your fingers tracing along his jaw as you speak to him, “that you’re going to scare me away.”

“You still have time to run,” He jokes lightly, but there’s a tinge of sadness to his tone and you shake your head with a quickly developing smirk.

“Only if you’re chasing after me,” You challenge, leaning forward to nip at his jaw, surprised when he returns the action as he buries his pith against your throat, rolling you onto your back with a laugh that bursts from your chest.

“That can be arranged, bub,” He promises, nosing himself into the sensitive spot behind your ear, “I’d sniff you out in seconds, anyways.”

-

divider creds: @saradika-graphics

[boricuasirena25]

loser, nerdy 2000s ellie x popular, bimbo, mean girl fem!reader headcanons

authors note : just wanted to say thank uu sm for the support i’ve seen on my last post abt nerdy ellie, i fr posted it without thinking and i can tell a lot of yall like it! im taking requests for her so lmk what uu want. :)

cw : some nsfw (some of the things i put in the nsfw might be like pg13 but i still put them there anyways idk 😭), lotta jokes abt boobies, ellie’s PAINFULLY nerdy like oh my goodness. takes place in the late 2000s to be oddly specific.

— SFW

• she has fantasies of you and her in the medieval times, you being the glamorous princess and her being your daring, knight in shinning armor. she literally draws it in her sketchbook, pages filled with doodles of you in corsets or big and gorgeous low cut gowns, her holding up a sword towards your “boyfriend” adrian, who in her medieval universe is “lord adrian of valebrume”, a totally made-up kingdom name that sounds dark and full of lies. she made sure it rhymed with gloom, doom, and consume—because duh, he’s the villain.

• and her favorite medieval scenarios? saving you. you’re chained in a tower. a dragon’s outside. adrian is there, trying to “rescue” you but being a fool. ellie shows up on horseback, sword drawn, cloak flapping dramatically. she slays the dragon, pushes adrian off a cliff, and drops to one knee like: “my lady. i have come for you.” you run into her arms, kiss her hard, and whisper, “you’re all I ever wanted, sir williams…”

• she can solve a rubik’s cube in under a minute. but she will not do it in front of people because she’s been bullied enough. only her stuffed triceratops knows how smart she really is.

• she’s so soft for you it’s pathetic. you could insult her in front of the entire class and she’d still smile and go “you’re so funny…” like a kicked puppy. you could say “shut up, ellie” and she’d respond with “yes ma’am” and a full-body shiver.

• 100% draws on her converse “E + (your initial)” with a heart inside of it.

• she’s, OF COURSE, obsessed with dinosaurs. she’ll say corny pick up lines like “i think if i was a dinosaur, i’d be a simp-o-saurus. because… y’know… for you. i’m simpin’ real hard.” and then she’d probably smack herself in the head after like “what the f*ck was i thinking…”.

• even though she’s HEAVILY bullied (specifically for being a lesbian who’s obsessed with you) shes blessed enough to constantly third wheel with dina and jesse.

• quite literally owns a rubber “i heart boobies” bracelet that she insists is for breast cancer awareness, but really she just thinks boobs are awesome and it’s the only time she’s allowed to say it out loud.

• she’s knows how to skate and does it quite frequently as a source of transportation (until joel gives her his rusted up, old, monster truck that ellie isn’t allowed to get till she passes spanish).

• death note is her favorite manga. she bought the first volume from a crusty used bookstore with joel, and it unlocked something feral inside her. the intensity? the drama? the moral conflict? she ate it up. once accidentally moaned when reading a panel of misa sitting on light’s lap. would never admit that.

• she owns a fake death note she made and writes adrian’s name in it “adrian luis davis – punched in the nuts by a ghost and then falls in a porta-potty in front of the whole school. dies of embarrassment.” then she drew a tiny doodle of him slipping on a banana peel. and if another boy makes you laugh? she flips open her ‘death note’, glares over her glasses, and mutters “he’s done for.”.

• she’d be a marching band lesbian idc, she’d play percussion and have the most wrinkled up band uniform ever. and she literally never wears the hat right. it’s always tilted or falling off her head. one time it flew off during a performance and she had to kick it off the field. she was mad until she looked over and saw you laughing at her in the stands.

• still plays the guitar, (she does in every universe), and she practices every single day. after school, while watching invader zim. she zones out completely when she’s playing. it’s the only time her brain shuts up—unless she’s thinking about your boobs. then it’s just chaos. one night she was home alone and played “the only exception” by paramore after smoking weed and cried because it reminded her of you.

• she didn’t tell anyone. just laid on the floor of her living room like a snow angel in her spider-man boxers whimpering.

• she owns a jennifer’s body DVD and keeps it hidden under her bed. watches it on mute when joel isn’t home. she has the kiss scene with needy memorized (she sometimes even rewatches it and imagines it as u and her).

• she owns a chunky PS3 and plays GTA IV when she’s had a bad day, or is just like super angry as her own therapy. she’ll storm into her room, throw her backpack down, and boots up her fat, fingerprint-covered PS3. the fan’s loud, the controller’s kinda sticky from soda, and the GTA IV disc is always already in. she plays like a menace—steals a car, blasts the liberty rock radio station, and causes chaos in liberty city.

• but if she’s super mad?! like adrian calling her out in front of the whole class once again?! his arms around your waist while you just sit there?! she types cheat codes into her cracked notebook and gives niko bellic rocket launchers and infinite health. she’s full on blowing up traffic jams, launching grenades into alleyways, and driving into the water just for the hell of it.

• when joel checks on her like, “you alright, kiddo?” she just grunts “yeah,” while casually tossing molotovs at cop cars with dead eyes. but she plays minecraft when she’s just chilling. she builds the ugliest dirt houses with torches everywhere and lives like a little swamp gremlin. has one big chest labeled “STUFF” and refuses to organize it. she wears full iron armor and still falls in lava. blames lag.

• OBSESSED WITH SPIDER-MAN. she literally has spider-man bedsheets and posters in her room; one above her bed, one crooked on the celling holding on by a thread (when her fan is on too long it almost blows off), and one behind her door.

• when she writes about you in her journal she puts “my MJ <3”. she even draws it. little comic panels where she’s spidey saving MJ (you) from some made-up villain that originates from adrian. ellie gives herself abs and a six-pack. no shame.

• she also owns a knock off spider-man costume. it’s from walmart and a little too tight, with faded colors and one busted web-shooter strap. she wears it with her dirty converse and grey sweatpants and thinks she’s the coolest thing ever. wears it to the store when joel isn’t paying attention. she once got it stuck in the dryer and cried.

• only wears boxers. various different pairs that r always peaking out of her sweatpants, cargos, or jeans. her favorite pair? her prized possession? a pair of faded-ass spider-man boxers. they’re red and blue with tiny spidey logos all over. she’s had them since middle school and refuses to let them go—even though they’re worn thin, have a little hole on the thigh, and the elastic’s basically screaming for mercy.

• she calls them her “lucky boxers” and lowkey wears them on days she knows she might see you. she also owns black boxers with little green dinosaurs on them and classic plaid ones that r oversized and practically fall off her hips. the waistband’s always showing. always. at this point, it’s part of the fit. she doesn’t even care if they get bunched under her jeans—just tugs at them in the hallway like “gotta air it out.”

• if she’s nervous around you, she adjusts her boxers way too much and acts like it’s not because she’s turned on.

• and for some reason, this loser is like freakishly good at soccer? beastly good. jaw-dropping good. weirdly good. but then again it’s probably because she’s a lesbian. she’s fast, aggressive, strategic—she plays forward like she isn’t afraid to slide tackle some 6’0 dude to the ground. she gets called for fouls all the time because she plays like she’s ready to fight. her coach yells at her all the time; “williams! dial it down!”, “williams, it’s not that deep—GET OFF HER!”.

• she wears the same cleats from middle school. they’re black, duct-taped, and smell like her garage. her shin guards are always crooked, and her socks never match.

• she once tried to hit you up by calling you mamacita with the worst accent you’ve ever heard. thought it was smooth. just for you to hit her with the dirtiest look ever. let’s just say she never said that out loud again.

• her all time favorite soda is dr pepper. she drinks it a little too much… her bedroom is a crime scene of empty cans. they’re stacked into little pyramids on her windowsill, crammed into her backpack, one might even be under her pillow. joel once tripped over a can pyramid and she screamed like he destroyed a sacred monument. BUT she swears it “makes her smarter.” she’ll sip it during math tests like it’s brain juice. “it’s got 23 flavors, joel. i’m running on 23 IQ boosts right now.”.

• literally owns a faded, crusty dr pepper graphic tee. it’s oversized and has holes in the collar, but she thinks it’s high fashion. it was $3 at goodwill and she treats it like a designer item. if she’s wearing it under her flannel, it’s a special day. she also 100% has a dr pepper can tab on a necklace chain. she popped it off her “lucky can” and wears it under her shirt. when you find it one day and asks about it, ellie stutters, “it’s—it’s like, uh, for good luck. and stuff…”

• dina notices ellie in class going through her sketchbook, finds one page where your name is written next to a sketch of you in a princess outfit. next to it? ellie’s self-insert knight version—sword drawn, hearts floating around them. dina looks up slowly and goes, “ellie… have you spoken to her yet?”

• “she said ‘thanks’ when I let her borrow a pencil. we’re basically married.”

— NSFW

• she gets turned on by the stupidest things about you. the way you chew gum, the way you fix your hair, the sound of your laugh, the way you tie your shoes, the way you stretch in class and your shirt rides up a little. she’ll cross her legs in AP biology like “be cool. don’t squirm. don’t look at her boobs again.” just to take another quick glance down.

• ellie found out what a strap was from the L word. she saw shane pull it out of a drawer once and nearly passed out. didn’t even know what it was called at first—just googled “lesbian harness thing from l word” on ask jeeves. then, when scrolling online she saw this neon green strap-on with a ugly, cheap, fake leather, hideous colored harness—and for some reason, she bought it. i mean the harness was only $29.99, dildo $14.99 and with a shipping of $8 dollars, it’s not like she could afford those $90 ones. now it’s growing dust under her bed.

• her cute, hideous glasses always slide off her nose when she catches you near her in a mini skirt (or she pushes them up to get a better look at my tits) and because of this, she can quite literally draw your tits from pure memory. no reference. no glances. just pure gay brain storage. she knows the exact curve, how they rest when you’re sitting vs standing, how they look in that one white top with the scoop neckline that makes her borderline pass out.

• but even though she knows them like the back of her hand, she still sneaks glances when she thinks you’re not looking. sometimes you’re bent over the locker room bathroom mirror, adjusting your necklace or putting on lip gloss, and she’s across the room—pretending to tie her converse back on but she’s staring dead at your tits in the mirror reflection like she’s about to start drooling.

• and she’s memorized every single bra you own. color, fabric, lace pattern, where it cuts on your back, how the straps sit on your shoulders, whether the padding lifts your tits or not. she knows which ones you wear when you want to feel cute and which ones are for laundry day.

• when she’s high? forget about it. she starts rambling about the “artistic gravity” of your tits, how the curve reminds her of renaissance sculptures, and how she wants to sculpt them from memory using clay she found behind the garage. dina and jesse once walked in on this monologue and left in silence.

• she doesn’t even smoke that often—maybe once every couple weeks if someone else has it. but every time she does? she turns into a flushed, squirmy, glassy-eyed mess who gets insanely horny within ten minutes. like clockwork. doesn’t matter if it’s a chill high or a head high—ellie’s already halfway down bad the moment it hits her bloodstream.

• one time she smoked weed in dina’s garage with her and jesse. the three of them snuck out to her garage—lights off, old couch, lava lamp glowing. they pass it around like total amateurs, coughing and giggling and pretending to be cool. ten minutes in, ellie is absolutely done for.

• her knees are pulled up to her chest, hoodie sleeves over her hands, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed bright pink. she’s quiet, too quiet, until dina looks over and goes: “ellie… you good?” and ellie just mumbles, “mhm… i’m chillin’…” while clearly not chillin’.

• she’s thinking about you in a miniskirt. she’s thinking about your glossed-up lips. she’s thinking about your thighs on either side of her head. jesse’s rambling about alien conspiracies meanwhile ellie’s gripping the edge of the blanket, vibrating with how badly she needs to excuse herself. she finally blurts out “i’m gonna go… uh… bathroom. real quick.”

• she bolts toward the house, slamming the bathroom door shut. she barely locks it before her hand’s down her boxers—moaning softly into her arm, her mind spiraling with nothing but you. how pretty you are, how good you smell, how soft your thighs would feel wrapped around her flushed face.

• and her sketchbook is a problem. deep in her sketchbook, the parts she refuses to let anyone else see, are filthy. you sitting on her face, moaning. you spread open with your fingers, juice dripping down your thighs, her name scratched onto your skin. you with hickeys on your chest, teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and the exact position your mouth makes when you’re cumming.

• she’s drawn close-ups of your tits in her sketchbook more times than she can count. like full-studies. the shading, the softness, how the nipples perk when you’re cold. she knows which way they tilt when you’re laying on your side. she draws them squished under her hands. she draws them from memory and gets mad when it’s not perfect.

• and some of her sketches are drawn from scenarios she wishes happened. you sitting in her lap in just your mini skirt with your hand around her neck, you pulling her by the collar into bed with a kiss, you in the school bathroom kissing her against a stall door.

• in which ellie draws herself completely cornered against the stall door. her cheeks are flushed bright red, glasses fogged up, and her lips are shiny from your lip gloss—because you kissed it off her. in the corner of the page, ellie scribbled: “she wore juicy perfume. i could smell it all over me after.”

• remember ellie’s medieval fantasies? well let’s just say they’re not all innocent… a specific one is where she drew you pressed to the castle wall, dress lifted, bent over. ellie’s behind you, armor still on, her gauntlet clamped around your mouth while she takes you with a thick medieval strap—drawn with detailed curve and shimmer of neon green (yes, she draws the neon green strap even in fantasy).

• you’re moaning through her hand, crown slipping, legs shaking while your heels dig into the stone. she adds notes like: “told her to be quiet. she couldn’t.”, “her moans echoed through the halls.”

[ddeokz]

STAY WITH ME ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ 신이 우릴 허락 안 해도 - J.SC

trope down bad!sungchan x clueless!reader ⊹₊⋆ fluff, (it’s tooth rotting fluff) fem!reader they are in collage- an ˎˊ˗ he's just a softie idk- reader is CLUELESS and I mean that🙂‍↕️ ⤷ …. riizebrary! + song to read 2!

✦downbad!sungchan who.. never let's you walk alone- not at night, not at the ass crack of dawn ur safety is the most important thing to him he's not afraid of defending you at anytime.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. notices the way your eyes pause on little trinkets at the mall, its always the stuff you say "I really like it but i'd never buy it myself :(" to.. weeks later he shows up with them and for some reason it makes your heart flutter that your best friend even remembered.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. lets you do his make up, nails and put stickers all over him without even having to ask twice because what other way would he want to spend his weekend?

✦downbad!sungchan who.. remembers your order at ALL places so when they get it wrong and your too scared to tell them he doesn't hesitate saying something along the lines of "she doesn't like foam on hers- oh and can you make it strawberry instead of vanilla? thanks."

✦downbad!sungchan who.. has multiple playlist based off you- one with your initials, one with an emoji that reminds him of you, and one with a picture of the two of you. The best part is when you ask him about it he just goes "huh really? i mean i guess i wasn't paying attention to what i was putting.." and then laughs it off (spoiler alert: of course he knew he just got shy.)

✦downbad!sungchan who.. lowkey crashes out when you respond extremely dry- (in your defense you've never been a good texter..) he shoves his face in his pillow and texts his friends "she doesn't want me i wanna die"

✦downbad!sungchan who.. writes your name in the corners of his notebook with little scribbles and hearts like he's in some 2000's disney channel romcom movie and when you steal his notebook to copy his notes your face get's surprisingly hot and you pout thinking he's playing some mean joke on you.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. buys you flowers cuz "pretty girls deserve pretty flowers" and you reply with "I'm so lucky to have a best friend like you" (wishing he meant it in a romantic way- well.. you'll catch on soon enough.. i hope)

✦downbad!sungchan who.. can't take it anymore.. he doesn't understand how you can't tell that he's like... crazily obsessed with you. so he makes a plan.. plan: confess to yn starts now! and as he's randomly sneaking off and canceling plans to make the perfect place to ask you out your thinking he's found someone and it'll never go anywhere..

✦downbad!sungchan who.. plans a beautiful picnic in the spot you met, (which caught you off guard because- what abt that new person he was seeing?! is this not too romantic??) than starts jumbling up his words because of how nervous he is. But he finally spits it out all the things he's been wanting to say and all the times he wished you weren't just friends.

✦downbad!sungchan who.. covers his face after word vomiting all over you- bracing himself for rejection but you... don't? you grab his hands and smile as wide as possible before softly saying "I never knew you liked me channie i don't wanna be friends either 'wanna be yours" and he swears he could die right then and there.

and finally ✦downbad!sungchan whos.. not just your friend anymore but your boyfriend . your boyfriend who treats you so good and you couldn't ask for anything more. (well maybe you could ask for a ring but that's a story for another time-)

ahhh!! I hope you guys had fun reading this as much as I had fun writing it 🥺 it’s my first written post and im a little nervy LMAOO anyways we love downbad!sungchan- but who next??

[karenandhenwilson]

Let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights

Sometimes I see a post and wonder what kind of world people live in, how ignorant and hateful they are of the community they claim to be part of, and even the most recent history of that community.

I saw this post with this line in it: "Its the 21th century, are we still suppose to justify people who lie at their partners in order to protect their reputation?" And I'm not reblogging because I don't want to have it on my blog.

So, let's talk about the 21st century and queer rights in the US, shall we, @queershits?

Did you know that same-sex marriage in the US as a whole has only been legal since the Supreme Court decision on Obergefell v. Hodges on June 26, 2015? Prior to that, the first state to grant same-sex marriage was Massachusetts in 2004, while the first civil unions for gay and lesbian couples became legal in 2000. But at the same time, 28 states had banned same-sex marriage and the recognition of those marriages from other jurisdictions until 2015. In fact, the federal government had been banned from recognizing same-sex marriages by the Defense of Marriage Act in 1996, which had been voided by the Supreme Court decision in 2015 but has only been fully repealed by the Respect of Marriage Act in 2022. That's all the 21st century. And very recent 21st century!

When Hen and Karen adopted Denny in 2011, they weren't married. Because at that point in time, they weren't allowed to in California.

Did you know that until the Supreme Court ruling on Lawrence v. Texas on June 26, 2003, same-sex sexual activity was illegal in 14 US states? And that even with that ruling 12 of these states have not changed their state's constitution, so that these laws aren't executable but still on the book and regularly used to harass queer people? (And didn't the current Supreme Court just say after overthrowing Roe v. Wade they'd like to take a good long look at Lawrence v. Texas, too? People might lose their rights again in those 12 states if the worst comes to pass here.) That's all the 21st century.

Did you know that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" came into effect in 1994, allowing gay and bi people to serve in the US military as long as no one found out about their sexual orientation? If they were found out, they could face dishonorable discharges or even prison time. Either would be a permanent burden on their records for the rest of their lives. DADT was repelled in 2011 after a long and hard debate. That's well into the 21st century.

Karen explicitely states that DADT is part of the reason she didn't become an astronaut. (Though, NASA was never truly subjected to the rule as it is not a military organisation. But on the other hand, many of the astronatus are active or former military.)

Tommy was at the 118 in 2005. We know he was in the Army prior to joining the LAFD. That means Tommy served under the rule of DADT, which would have been an immense burden on him.

Do you know that there is a defense called "LGBTQ+ panic" often used in combination with a defense of insanity, provocation, or self-defense? This defense tactic is only banned in 21 US states, and most of those bans are very recent. In 2018, only three states had banned this defense. In 29 US states people are allowed to say "this person is gay/trans/queer/etc and I felt threated by that fact alone so I saw myself with no other choice but to hurt them" in a court of a law and the jury has to consider that argument. That's the 21st century.

Let's take a look at the kind of world Josh, Michael, and Tommy would have been children and teenagers in. That's not quite the 21st century, but it's near enough.

Tha aids epemedic started in the 1980s, and is — for the record! — still ongoing. But in the 1980s it was very much deemed a problem of the gay community only. And many, many people claimed outrageous things like "they're getting what they deserve". Josh and Tommy are both 80s children, Michael was a teenager in the 80s. We know Tommy grew up with a bigoted and hateful man like Gerrard as a father. He probably heard the above quote and worse regularly.

Have you ever heard the name Mathew Shepard, @queershits? (If not, go and educate yourself!) Mathew Shepard was a young gay man tortured and murdered in October 1998. Josh and Tommy would have been teenagers or maybe young adults (as we don't know the exact age of either of them) when that happened. It was all over the news and there were, again, people not shying away from saying he got what he deserved. I've no doubt Tommy's father (and Gerrard) was one of those people.

That's the world Josh, Michael, and Tommy grew up in as gay men that Josh talked about. They didn't hide to protect their reputation, as it was put in the quote above. They hid to protect their life and well-being. Finding the confidence and security to let go of that kind of learned behavior to protect yourself is so hard. But all three did it!

There are still people today who have to hide like this in the US. Because they're born into the wrong family or the wrong neighborhood or the wrong religious community where being queer is still seen as a ground to hate them, to exclude them, to hurt them, to kill them.

The number of hate crimes is rising again. The hard-won rights and freedom of queer people are threatened again. It's the 21st century, but that doesn't mean we are always safe or that we don't sometimes have to do shady things to protect ourselves or that we can lean back and enjoy the rights we have. Because many of us all over the world either don't have any rights or are facing the very real danger of losing the rights again that those who came before us fought so hard for.

[chelseeebe]

all outta’ luck

18+. smut. exhusband!eddie, this is set sometime in the early 2000s but it’s mentioned once so who really cares

a/n: thank you anon for inspiring me to write another part to the exhusband!eddie series! this is a just a lil something to show that he doesn’t get his way all the time hehe. i’m so tired, please ignore any mistakes

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

the repetitive clanging sounds of the garage ring through eddie’s ears, murmured profanities and a chorus line of huffs fill the space. 

he can hear that fucking britney spears song echoing from the courtyard, his colleagues choice of music made him passively suicidal. 

something’s afoot, emmanuel stops tinkering to gaze over the car out into the parking lot, glancing at eddie quietly before the rest of the guys clock on. 

“oooooh,” they ring out, “someone’s in trouble,” mocking as they stop working to stare gormless at him. 

eddie’s stands, noticing your dinged up old ford straight away, searching for the missing accompaniment of your furious face alongside it. 

“yeah, nice one boys,” he hits back, his feet scuffing the gravel as he comes around the car. 

there you are, with your hands on your hips, exchanging niceties with robert before latching your eyes onto him. 

you were here for one of two reasons, either you needed something, meaning he would get his dick wet, or eddie had done something wrong, he’d probably still get his dick wet. 

it’s difficult to hide his excitement when you’ve essentially pavlov’d him into getting hard every time he sees you. 

“can we talk?” full of scorn, causing robert to back away, rightfully so too. 

“about?” rolling his eyes at his gawking friends before slipping out of the garage, away from their prying eyes. 

“what’d you give oscar this for?” retrieving the twenty dollar bill from your bra to hold in his face. wilfully ignoring the perverse whistles in the background. 

eddie stares at the twenty, wiping his hands with the oily rag, “he said he wanted some video game so i gave it to him,” shrugging because really, what other answer could he give?

“i already told him he couldn’t have it,” your brows knitted together, “i wish you’d check with me first before just doing shit,” sliding the note back into your bra, another round of whistling begins behind him. not to mention that was his twenty. 

eddie’s dumbfounded completely, absolutely certain that you’d only made the drive up here to piss him off, “so? i can’t give my son money anymore?” 

you tut, “i didn’t say that,” blinking rapidly, he knows you’re trying to contain yoursel, “i just want you to ask me before you tell him he can have something.” 

you’re surely not serious. this must be a ploy to get him pent up so you can drag him away from work, it must be. 

“i’m his dad,” getting louder, making sure that anyone eavesdropping could clearly hear this pathetic argument, “you remember that? if he wants the game, he can have the game.”

your eyes trail from his to the gallery of blinking eyes behind him, “can we do this somewhere else?” 

there it is. 

your plan unfolding right in front of his eyes. 

eddie exhales, playing into the little act you so desperately wanted, tossing his rag to the floor, “i’m taking lunch now,” announcing his plans to the entire audience, stomping from the garage to your terribly parked car. 

they’d all be talking about you no doubt, hushed whispers about eddie being weak or a pushover, whatever. if they only knew what was really about to go down, they’d have far worse to say. 

he gets in without ever looking back at them all, concealing his smirk rather unsuccessfully, “happy now?” he remarks snidely. 

you shift the car into drive, looking straight ahead, “very,” wheels crunching over the gravel as you pull off, smug as you drive. 

“you don’t have to do all this shit every time, you know? i would’a just gone with you anyway,” tapping his fingers along the leather interior, waiting for his mark to touch you. he’s sure it’d come, just as soon as you were away from the crowd. 

“but it’s more fun this way,” turning off to your usual desolate spot, hidden away from passing cars or peeping people. 

his hand braces your knee first, watching your face for permission to move upward, which he does with glee, slipping underneath your skirt, “no panties?” hardly surprised by the lack of fabric. 

you park, somewhere deep in the bushes, “mhm,” nodding as your legs clamp shut around his wrist, trapping his arm in the most precarious position. “you like it?” 

eddie nods, his breaths growing erratic, “fuck yeah i do,” attempting to grab a little fistful of your skin but your hold around his arm only gets tighter. 

“thought you would,” humming softly, removing his hand from your thigh to slide over the console and onto his lap, receiving a short grunt of approval. 

eddie’s practically salivating, coming to wrap his arms tight around your waist, anticipating the next best three minutes of his life. “holy fuck,” shuddering into the disappearing space between your faces as your cunt moves against his crotch, no doubt darkening the fabric with your slick. 

somethings wrong, something must be wrong.

he’d never get off with this so easily, he’s waiting for the bait and switch, for whatever punishment he must endure to come crashing over him. 

your hands snake around his neck, taking a strong fistful of his hair to tug backwards, “you wanna fuck me? hmm? d’you wanna cum?” that stupid pornstar voice you put on sometimes, low and raspy, almost making him blow his fucking load right now. 

“yes.. please,” his hips thrusting upwards for just a hint of relief, “god- fuck, please,” clawing at your skin, he’s never felt so desperate in all his life. 

you grind down against his cock, pulling a filthy mewl from his whiny throat, “what’re you gonna do to me? huh?” 

oh god. 

he can’t even think, only do. so pathetically desperate to fuck up into you a couple of times before cumming everywhere. 

“i’m gonna.. i need to feel you,” eddie mewls, grinding back against your cunt, the only thing separating the two of you were his stained work pants and his boxers that suddenly felt very sticky. 

your hips begin to bounce, his clothed cock nudging against your bare pussy with every frantic rut of your hips. “oh my god,” you cry, using his crotch to get yourself off more than anything, the denim brushing your clit just right. 

“fuck sweetheart, please fuck me,” rutting frantically upwards, latching onto your bottom lip and the skin around it. 

there’s not much longer of this he can take before he inevitably cums in his pants. you were moving too erratically, whining into his mouth in tandem with your clit catching against the tip of his erection. 

“mmhm,” barely audible over the creaking of his seat, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

“so much.. like, now baby,” grasping at your shirt, kneading the fabric through his fingers in a bid to get you to just move a little. 

“too bad,” stilling your movements completely, gazing into his eyes, an gleam of utter villainous intent behind your otherwise glossy eyes. 

sick. you must be sick in the head. 

“nononono please, baby please what’re you doing?” desperation dripping from his tongue, his grabby hands urgently trying to keep you on his lap. 

“nuhuh,” pinching his cheek, cruel and mocking with your smirk, “you don’t get to fuck me today,” climbing back over to the drivers seat, pulling your skirt back to a respectable length and running a quick hand through your wild hair. 

“what?” eddie exclaims, hands falling limp against his burning thighs, “what’s wrong with you?” you were psychotic, utterly depraved and sick in the head. 

eddie wants to cry, the tears pricking in his eyes at the longing ache still lingering in his cock, a cruel and unusual punishment for a damned video game. 

“what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you?” turning to him, mouth hung open in shock, “you don’t listen to me, ever. why the fuck would i let you fuck me?” 

you were serious about this. genuinely pissed off over some money he could hardly remember giving.

fuck this.

eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, exasperated and ridiculously horny, a terrible combination when he was expected back at work any minute now. “it’s twenty bucks,” he sighs, “i’m sorry i didn’t ask you, i’m sorry i’m sorry i’m sorry, can you please get back over here and let me make it up to you?” in complete despair, the man had never had to plead so hard just to touch you. 

your tongue peaks out, wetting your bottom lip, as if you were really contemplating this, “no,” before turning the ignition back on, so smug and so sure you were in the right. 

hell, maybe you were. 

but he’d learned his lesson now, he was ready to repent and make amends. 

“oh my god,” eddie huffs, pulling at the bunched up fabric of his pants in an effort to conceal his still very much raging boner. “you’re gonna make me go back in there like this?” they’d never let him live this down, no doubt about it. 

you hum with a sickening sense of satisfaction, “yeah, i am actually,” glancing down at his crotch, “maybe when you’ve learnt your lesson i’ll let you make it up to me,” turning down that gut-wrenchingly familiar road to the garage, knowing you were really serious about this, relishing in his pain. 

they’re all waiting when you pull back in, a gaggle of beady eyed freaks line the garage, just waiting for their moment to start the attack. 

eddie scoffs one final time, “you’re a sick fuck, you know that?” 

“goodbye eddie,” shooing him off, your lips twitching in excitement. 

they whoop excruciatingly loud when eddie closes the door, the scarlet hue to his cheeks and the unruly nest of hair on his head giving everything away. 

“what’s the matter? you can’t get her off anymore?” james screeches, far too old to be hazing him like some teenager. 

“tell her if she needs a real man, i’ll be right here for her,” emmanuel pipes up, clutching onto his heart. like you’d ever go for a man who was balding at 28. pfft. 

“that’s my fuckin’ wife, you degenerates,” eddie spits, watching intently as you back out of the parking lot, the boys ogling as you go. 

“not anymore,” their laughter roars through the echoing garage, reminding him that despite the ring still wrapped around his fourth finger, you weren’t married anymore. 

[inbabylontheywept]

holy hell are people just crueler in arizona????

how would the idea to drag a 2nd grader around on gravel until his back is destroyed even occur to a person????

glad you have your sister to back you up. as a certified big sister (the certificate being the shirt i got saying "awesome big sister" after the birth of my second baby sister), this is what must be done for siblings. you can't fuck with them, that's our job. if there were a nobel prize for big-sistering, i think she should win, but alas, there isn't.

my dad grew up in phoenix/scottsdale and was also bullied in school. once when he was a teen he was walking home and some random boys sprayed mace in his face for no reason and drove off (they were later busted for illegal possession of a weapon, as there was a gun in their backseat). is there something in the water there?

Ehhhhhhh. I've talked to some people about events like this in my childhood, and gotten a lot of responses along the lines of "What Bastard Ass Corner of Hell Did You Crawl Out Of," so here's my multitheory of Arizona Weirdness.

The Summers: Arizona doesn't do daylight savings because it has no desire to save any daylight. Whenever people aren't looking, it tries to discreetly pick pieces of sunlight off its plate to feed to the dog. There was a humiliating incident a few years ago where it thought nobody was looking and tried to throw a large piece of sunlight out an open window into the backyard, but the window was not open, it was merely very clean, so it SMACKED into the glass and slid down and fell on the kitchen floor while everyone watched. This incident is still spoken of in hushed winters in PNW dinner parties. The summers of Arizona make everyone a little manic. Fortunately, God realized this was going to be a huge problem, so He had for the foresight to limit summers to only approximately 6 months of the year. Adding fuel to the fire is that the mania is accompanied by an outside temperature above 110 F (43 C) so you either stay inside and get this very intense kind of cabin fever (like watching TV static on Adderall) or you go outside where you are both energetic and in extreme physical discomfort. Most of the people that are outside have actually tried their best to stay inside, it's just that the Cabin Fever finally succeeded in overriding their pain receptors, so they are basically the equivalent of mindless rage zombies unless they are actually inside of a pool at that very moment. This is why everyone in Arizona owns pools.

The Mormons: The Mormons are extremely resistant to cultural changes. This is because they pick their prophets from a group of 13 old men who are literally competing to see who lives the longest. The oldest gets to be in charge. If this sounds like a bad plan consider that any time one of them dies, everyone goes, ah, well, he probably wouldn't have made a good prophet then. You know. Because God killed him and all. I have always considered this hilarious in how brutal it is. Anyway, the Mormons consistently linger ~20 years behind the standard culture. So growing up in 1980's Mormonworld was, socially, very similar to growing up in 1960's Americana. Except I was in elementary school in the early 2000's, which meant that my social environment was probably most comparable to the 1980s, which television has led me to believe was the era that bullies were required to take mandatory Kung-Fu Dirtbiking courses.

The Water: If there was something in the water, we would still have to drink it.

The Water II: Maybe there's something in everyones water, but it only starts making you into an asshole when you drink a gallon and a half of it a day. Worth considering.

Dumbass Cowboys: Arizona reaaaaaally like its Wild West Heritage. Which in practice means that they are, culturally, very pro-violence. They're an open carry, stand your ground, castle law state, and they have been my entire life. This actually added quite a bit to my elementary school bitterness. It is extremely bizarre to be told, as a child, that you aren't even allowed to swear at people for hitting you while your parents would be allowed to keep shooting until they ran out of bullets. At which point they could call their complimentary NRA lawyer. I have a vague memory of my 3rd grade teacher saying that kids would be much nicer to each other if they were allowed to come to school armed, but alas, Columbine ruined that for everyone. She was actually a very nice lady when she wasn't arguing that children should be allowed to, occasionally, shoot each other. I think she was in her 60's then. Might still be alive.

[rhaenyraeri]

You think grandpa remmy would be confused by the brainrot of a younger vampire?? I suppose this is a request?? Just a confused Remmick with a brainrotted younger vamp. (I was thinking of the clip of Sebastian Stan and David harbour on instagram talking about Rizz lol)

oh god he would embody the 🤨 SOOO often with younger vamps lol. i got a little ahead of myself with this one so i grant you all this lol i hope i did your question justice 😂

two times remmick learned modern slang, and the one time he tried to use it.

as the years go on, remmick continued to collect unsuspecting victims as his vampiric entourage. he took in the different mannerisms, opinions, interests, and knowledge from each person, all changing over the decades. when the year 2025 arrived, he’d thought he saw and heard it all. oh, was he severely wrong.

the modern generation of young adults were certainly something. their humor was.. out there. the opinions were more widespread and more strongly defended, and their fashion was drastically different from that of the 2000’s and before. he’d heard weird phrases slung around between the younger ones time after time, however one night, he’d had enough. what the fuck were they saying?

— the newest member of remmick’s vampiric hive feasted on the blood of an older lady, an easy victim. remmick sat in the corner of the living room on the coffee table watching the fledgling endulge on their 3rd body tonight. they’d drained the body dry, raising up in content and looking to the ceiling. “ahhh yeah, that slaps hard.” remmick’s content smile drops, eyes furrowing as they locked onto them. “i-it can’t slap, it’s dead! the hell are you talking about?” “it’s what all the kids nowadays say!” he just accepted the fate he made for himself. he’d be hearing that a lot more now.

— the younger vampires stood behind him as he tried to pry his way into a family’s house, one that had more than 10+ inside. a perfect coincidence. and the woman that opened the door was a beautiful young lady. again, a perfect coincidence. remmick turned his charm on and got to work, using definitely outdated compliments and pick up lines that made the woman get more and more unimpressed and uncomfortable. she told them all to fuck off, and slammed the door. remmick put his head down, and the young vampire behind him muttered a few words. he raised an eyebrow at them, “what’d you just say?,” his anger rising between the failed feast and the snarky teenager. “i said, you don’t have rizz, remmick. you’re not gonna get into a pretty woman’s house using shit like that! you gotta rizz them up!.” he shut up quick, staring ahead confused and trying to figure out what the fuck rizz was. “rizz? that’s not even a word?” “it’s short for charisma, geezer. you don’t have that.” it took a LOT for him to not strangle the teenager then and there, but he took a deep breath and collected himself. did he really not have charisma? it’s worked before…

— by now, remmick had been around these young adults long enough to no longer question the weird slang they use. hell, he’d started to understand a few of the words. well, he says a few, but everyone knows he’s probably lying. to be fair, he was hundreds of years old, he’s saw the world change drastically, ways of life get impacted differently, and definitely speech changes. but something about this generation’s slang was… odd. so, one night, they’re all in the woods as they took down a small group of campers at a national park, and one of the vampires got a little snarky about their tactics. he was the only one who felt that way, so this sparked the beginning of an argument. before it could escalate too far, remmick got between them, and said “now-now hold on, we all got our opinions, and we all gotta hear each other out. come on now, let him cook,” and nodded his head at the direction of the male vampire. every single one gave him the same confused look that he’d once shown to them. “since when..? never mind, remmick. you don’t get the right to say our slang. it just sounds wrong when you do.” “i used it right, didn’t i? y’all aren’t the only ones who can pick up new things around here.” the tension from the argument had immediately disappeared, and all the vampires started to suppress their laughter and go back to their feedings. now remmick stood between the massacre, just staring blankly. “next time, i’m just gonna crash out on y’all.”

[pluckyredhead]

Do you think Dick has a favourite brother?

I LOVE THIS QUESTION. I'M GOING TO ANSWER IT AT UNNECESSARY LENGTH.

But for the tl;dr crowd: yes, 1000000%. It's Damian. Dick would not admit this under pain of death, even to himself, but it's Damian.

THE LONG VERSION:

So Dick and Jason are not close and never have been. I always sort of blink in bewilderment when people say they are, or were when Jason was Robin, because they are demonstrably not, and that's what's interesting and tragic about them.

The fact of the matter is that Dick simply wasn't around very much when Jason was Robin. The Doyleist reason for this is that he wasn't really being treated like a Bat character: he was a Titans character, appearing in Titans books, with only the occasional cameo in Batbooks. He and Jason get along very well in Jason's first origin story (when Jason was a circus acrobat and his parents were eaten by crocodiles); in fact, Dick tells Bruce he wants to adopt Jason and Bruce is like "Not if I adopt him first!" But after that, Dick simply...wasn't there very often.

If you need a Watsonian reason for this, it's pretty easy to extrapolate one. Dick and Bruce were not getting along well during this period, so of course Dick would avoid Bruce and Gotham. And yeah, I think it's fair to assume Dick felt some kind of complicated feelings about Bruce having a new Robin, especially post-Crisis when Bruce made Jason Robin without Dick having any say or even a warning that it was going to happen. I tend to headcanon that he resented Jason a little, but was mature enough to know that it wasn't actually Jason's fault, and partially decided to stay away so that he didn't take that out on Jason. But Jason, a smart and sensitive kid, interpreted this as Dick avoiding him because he didn't like him.

And then Jason died.

Dick took that hard, and I think it was less "my brother who I had a close relationship with died" and more "this child followed in my footsteps and it killed him and I wasn't even there for him when I had the chance." To me, that absolutely forms the subtext of the relationship he develops with Tim.

Not at the start. At the start, once "A Lonely Place of Dying" is over, he's as checked out with Tim as he was with Jason. The Doyleist reason is the same - Dick literally just wasn't supposed to be in Batbooks too much - but the way it plays out is sometimes really funny in an awful way. Like in and just after Knightfall, when Bruce gets his back broken by Bane and is like "I've known Jean-Paul Valley for two weeks and he barely has any training, most of it done by my extremely new 13-year-old Robin...I think I'll make him Batman." And then Tim's dad and Tim's dad's doctor, Shondra Kinsolving, get kidnapped, and since Bruce has been aggressively romantically pursuing Shondra to the point of it being uncomfortable and inappropriate, he's like "Okay going to rescue Shondra! I mean, your dad! I'm taking Alfred with me! Tim, you're in charge of Gotham and Jean-Paul byeeeeee!" And then JPV immediately gets unhinged and violent and tries to kill Tim and Tim keeps calling Alfred like "Um can you please come back and help" and Alfred's like "No" and Tim's like "Okay well did you at least rescue my dad?" and Alfred's like "Also no." Anyway Dick finally comes to Gotham and Tim is like "THANK GOD, HELP, BRUCE MADE AZRAEL BATMAN AND HE'S TRYING TO KILL EVERYONE, I NEED AN ADULT" and Dick is like "He made someone who isn't me Batman??? 😡😡😡" and then just...fucks off back to New York and leaves Tim to deal with it. Very out of character, VERY funny.

BUT ANYWAY. Then we get to around 1996 and 1. Dick is no longer on the Titans which has a whole new lineup and 2. there's an editorial shift emphasizing the Batfamily. This is where the line really expands: Robin (started in 1993, but still pretty new), Nightwing, Birds of Prey, Azrael, eventually Gotham Knights in 1999 and Batgirl in 2000. Dick moves to Bludhaven and spends way more time in Gotham.

This is when Dick looks at Tim, says "Is anyone gonna big brother that?" and doesn't wait for an answer. All of a sudden he's behaving in a way that suddenly feels in character for him (although the idea of Dick as a big brother/mentor...really wasn't a thing for him prior to this era, so it's more of a new development that feels correct in retrospect). He's training Tim, he's giving him advice, he's teasing him about girls, he's coming up with inside jokes, he's giving him noogies. It's like he watched a bunch of 80s sitcoms to learn how to be a big brother and applied his research accordingly.

And Tim? Tim absolutely blossoms under the attention. Tim, who has been adultified by every other adult in his life since he was, like, eight, is getting treated like a kid. Tim, whose parents are never around, and don't pay attention when they are around, has an adult he looks up to who wants to spend time with him, for fun. Tim, who has hero worshipped Dick Grayson since he was...well, according to the math, he was one (1) year old so let's ignore the math, but he was small, is now basking in the full force of Dick Grayson's off-the-charts charisma. This is the best thing that has ever happened to Tim. This is the dream.

I want to be clear here: I think Dick's extreme reversal here is a delayed reaction to Jason's death, but I don't want to imply that he doesn't care about Tim as an individual. He loves Tim as much as Tim loves him. Tim's good opinion is incredibly important to him. This relationship goes both ways.

Annnnd then both of their lives fall apart extremely rapidly, and Damian shows up, and Bruce dies. And Dick tries to get out of it, but ultimately it ends how it has to: with him accepting the mantle of Batman, and responsibility for Damian.

The relationship Dick has with Damian is nothing like the relationship Dick has with Tim. Tim is his little bro. Damian is his baby. He's fourteen years older than Damian and as much of a parent figure as a sibling figure. And Damian is difficult and exhausting but Dick slowly, slowly coaxes a degree of trust and affection out of him that even Bruce will never achieve. And he can only do that by making Damian Robin, which means Tim has to stop being Robin.

This is where Dick and Tim fall apart, because what they need in this very vulnerable moment is so diametrically opposed, and neither of them are wrong. To Dick, asking Tim to step down - or up, from Dick's perspective - from being Robin is a compliment. Dick fought to free himself from Bruce, to become his own man with his own name, and so asking Tim to do the same thing is a show of faith in Tim, in his skills and experience.

Whereas Tim's hero-worship has always been for Robin, not Batman, and every glimpse he has had of a future beyond Robin has always been a dystopia. But more importantly, Tim has just lost his father, his stepmother, his mentor, his girlfriend, and his two best friends. He desperately needs to be able to lean on Dick, the grown-up he admires the most, and instead, Dick is kicking him out of the nest.

In other words: Dick is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "I need you to help me by being a fellow adult." And Tim is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "But I need you to be my adult." And they both get a no.

This is water under the bridge now, and they've healed even though they've never really talked it through because Bats don't do that (although what I wouldn't give for a Nightwing/Red Robin miniseries where they do everything but talk about it). But I do think Tim looks at the closeness and affection between Dick and Damian and feels some kind of way about it to this day, because it's so clear to everyone that Damian is Dick's favorite...but Tim remembers when he was Dick's favorite. And what Tim doesn't see is that Dick values him as a genuine partner in a way he will never quite achieve with Damian, because to him, Damian will always be his baby, even more so than he is Bruce's. (Dick is Bruce's baby, actually, not Damian. In this essay I will...)

(I could see a really interesting dynamic developing between Jason and Tim here, as the ones on the outside of that mutual appreciation society, but sadly the comics have never gone there. Alas.)

Finally, I think the relationship between Dick and Duke is very much "I just work here." Like, Dick is grown, he's out of the house, he's largely matured past the Bat-drama. He likes Duke but he doesn't feel the compulsion to brother him the way he did with Tim, and Duke doesn't need the mother henning Damian did.

IN CONCLUSION, and hooboy, sorry anon, most of this wasn't at all the question you asked:

Duke and Dick get along fine but aren't particularly close.

Damian is Dick's precious baby and always will be, even when Damian is an adult and annoyed by this treatment (but privately kind of loves it because he is a princess at heart).

Tim is Dick's buddy, his pal, his equal. If Dick were ever going to talk something through with a sibling, it would be Tim. (But that would require Dick admitting that everything isn't perfect or asking for help, so it'll never happen.)

Jason and Dick can't be in a room together for five minutes without fighting and Dick finds him wildly frustrating, but they will throw down for each other. When they aren't punching each other.

(And to answer the corollary: Damian's favorite brother is Dick. Tim's favorite brother is also Dick. Duke's favorite brother is Tim by default, since he doesn't know Dick very well and Jason and Damian are both too annoying, but really he's closest with Cass. Jason's favorite brother is Ace and he has communicated that often and loudly (but really it's probably also Dick).)