#🌸.about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bloemrijk · 2 months

Text

Just a vent / rant rambles

Honestly, after getting rid of four toxic people from my life, I can’t help but just want to laugh hysterically. I feel free. I didn’t even realize how much they weighed me down.

• I don’t have to deal with someone who considers it a personal attack to their character if you dislike an interest they do. But will push you into a verbal corner asking you repeatedly “why don’t you like it,” not picking up any point when someone tries to politely say ‘well I never got into it.’ Apparently, you can like something but not got into it, who knew that oxymoron existed. This same person would also criticise me for watching a subpar anime that even I admit that it lost its appeal a little bit ago but I’m still watching it to finish it. Or criticising how my work in progress story IDEA doesn’t make any sense or how they dislike the trope I’m wanting to write. Or someone who makes “jokes” about how angry my impulsive actions are and how much better they are than I am at money management, not funny and I could have so passed on that.

• I’m not friends with a diagnosed autistic who would act in the most passive aggressive manner while claiming to not be upset or mad. This behaviour continuing for up to three weeks until I’m completely losing my mind because of how vindictive it is at some point and I can’t take it being around this person. Apparently, “I’m sorry for being repeatedly petty passive aggressive” and two plain I’m sorries was actually supposed to count towards all attitudes towards me including directly telling me that otome fans are delusional freaks. I think, I don’t know for sure. If this person acted in any way, it’s because they are diagnosed autistic, but the person (me) who EVERYONE makes a point of how they could likely be undiagnosed neurodivergent has to accept all actions (just and unjust) as the consequences for their actions.

• someone who wasn’t active throughout any of the drama but heard stories from the previous two about how immature I am. Someone who insisted chose to act in passive aggressive ways despite having genuinely no need to. Like, no one asked for you to act aggressively in messages, Felicia. So take your leave without saying anything.

• finally, someone who was frustrated by something I said and in a disagreement talked about me behind my back in an absolutely degrading, insulting way. When I was going to leave to let them have a good trip, they instead chose to mock me yet again while claiming that “they don’t know why I’m upset, I never talk.” I do talk, I’m just tired of someone not listening to me when I tell you what I feel or disregarding it as me being sensitive. You can disagree with me, an seven part education major, when I say the best way to lower the illiteracy rate is to stop having children be diagnosed with problems and allowed to never learn (basically what I’ve seen happen directly and indirectly.) But you aren’t simply disagreeing with me when you accuse me of not having personal first hand experiences being the different child, calling me ableist because I don’t think being able to listen to audiobooks alone is going to lower the literacy rates, and saying directly/indirectly that I shouldn’t be a teacher because I remind you of someone you hate. You conflated my views to insult me. Mocked me when I chose to leave instead of dealing with a bully. Then wanting me to message you, like I was the one in the wrong. The only wrong I had was giving you access to that account.

I don’t have to deal with any of it anymore. Haha. It feels like I have this huge weight just lifted off of me in just a few actions. I’ve been reading self improvement books and watching the vlogs, so that’s also had an impact as well. But, I’m not dying or feeling as connected to these toxic people. I don’t feel like I need them. And honestly, I’m more than a little grateful they left, mostly of their own will. Sure, it took some effort from me on two of them, but that said, I don’t have them around. Here I am, I can watch shows like My Hero Academia knowing the plot is going down, but it’s still a fun show to watch with my younger sibling. Or play my otome in peace. I don’t have to walk on eggshells to not offend them. And god forbid I try to show them how they are the ones who acted in the wrongdoing. I don’t have to have people who I call my friends assume (incorrectly at that) about my life to judge me for my views and opinions. I don’t have to deal with people who just act like bullies for the fun of it.

No more of any of it. I’m free of them. And I didn’t even think about how much they were hurting me until I let them go. They were nothing but toxic flowers. Beautiful to look at, but deadly to keep near.

#🌸.about #vent #rant

0 notes

your-local-granny · 5 months

Text

"Our job is to find truth, no matter how painful it may be."

#Happy dl6mas someone get this man some tea and a shock blanket #went suuuupremely crazy last night #and forgot I made a post about Gregory edgeworth at the club lmao #that was in research for this #AAAAANYWAYSSSS #things to think about. The fact that edgeworth has been operating with 98% of the facts of this case #and trying to piece it together his entire life #But bc he is gaslit into thinking he shot his dad he can’t view himself as anything other than a killer #also. There’s something about him being fated to do all the things he did in 1-4 like it’s alllll apart of a predetermined plan from mvk #ANYWAYS #feeling normal this dl6mas #aa #ace attorney #dl 6 incident #dl6mas #miles edgeworth #Portal art💕🌸🌤️

2K notes · View notes

roychewtoy · 9 months

Text

TAKE MY HAND. WE ARE GOING TO SHIV AND ROME WORLD

#completely forgot about this edit i started back in like.. march. FINISHED. BOSH. DONE.#just wanted to make a silly guy video.. yes shiv and roman violence!#edited this like: 😊#yo... take my hand. WE ARE GOING TO SHIV AND ROME WORLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#🐈🐈‍⬛🌈🩷🌻🌸🌅😄💟🌎👍🪩🌅🐱❤️🌠🌸💟🌅🫧😀😊😁😃🪩🌇🌎🐈‍⬛👍🐈😊⭐️🩷❤️🌻😸🌸🐱😺🫧🌸❤️🐱☀️😺🌇🌅😄🌎😊🪩😃⭐️🩷🌸❤️#i hope u enjoy tom synced up with the 'what!'#the shot of shiv reacting to romans fucky eyes is killing meeeeeeee #shiv roy #roman roy #succession #succession edit #my edit #chewtoy

1K notes · View notes

starry-bi-sky · 1 month

Text

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

334 notes · View notes

inquisimer · 7 months

Text

I commissioned @snacobie to draw my warden Ariya Tabris and Zevran and ahhhhHHHHH they're so cute. Snacobie was such a pleasure to work with and I'm so happy to have some art of my stabby rogues 🥰

#dragon age #dao #warden tabris #zevwarden #zevran arainai #zevran x tabris #tabris #oc: ariya tabris #ariya x zevran #yeah theyre about to tear up the denerim marketplace 😌🌸

469 notes · View notes

kirbyskisses · 1 year

Note

monster iwa…. is rewiring my brain chemistry

oh sem. my queen, you have awakened my little godzilla/mothra = iwaizumi/reader heart. i will now enter a feral unhinged state - i take no responsibility for what is about to happen.

tw: hybrids, monsterfucking, breeding mention, size kink, “just the tip”. minors/ageless blogs dni

godzilla type hybrid!iwa, a monster man with these huge muscular, gray-scaled arms and claws, sharp teeth, a long, heavy tail and back spines. still with that handsome face, a head of dark-brown hair and cold green-grey eyes that bore down on you. he’s so big

has a downright possessive love for his queen - a good-hearted little thing - mostly human but with fuzzy hair, bright eyes and precious moth wings.

he groans and curses and roars - a grumpy protector - but alway simmers down into a loud, comforting purr when he wraps his tail and huge body around you.

he doesn’t quite get what your chirps and cries are about while his slippery, long, blue tongue penetrates you but he doesn’t mind too much.

“have to prep you, little lady. st’p trying to close yer legs! i’m not gonna hurt my lovely queen. just gonna eat you up…”

and he does. :(

eats your fat little pussy like a man starved - huge claws breaking into the nest he’s made below you so they don’t tear into your thick thighs instead.

monster!iwa has no technique, he doesn’t need any. :(

has a tongue so long it slobbers on your clit while reaching deep, deep inside your walls.

a constant squelchsquelchsquelch and unceasing suckling noises echo around as he only takes breaks to say “sweetest fuckin’ pussy,” “that’s m’ goddess - stretch nice and wide…” before spitting on the overstimulated bundle of nerves and starting again.

you must’ve cum four times by the time he stops, wings, antennae and body twitching and twittering barely able to make a coherent noise - pussy lips still convulsing after minutes on end.

monster!iwa is so big you can feel him deep, deep in your tummy when he thrusts his cock in.

promises to start with the tip but your gummy walls are so addictive, so sweet and drippy around his bulbous tip that he can’t resist and lets out a choked roar as he bottoms out inside you.

*sniffle* trying to grip the hardened scales on his shoulders. :((

trying to kick or fly or do something, anything to get the pressure out because it’s so fat inside you but you’re immobilized - by his weight on top of you, his tail wrapping behind you - pulling you into him

his monstrous, long tongue delving inside your mouth forcing you to suck on the slippery muscle as your pussy sucks in his cock ☹️

the obscene sounds your little cunt makes reverberate around the room, mingling with high-pitched whines and breathless moans

“that’s my pretty little moth. my cute little queen.” he smirks, practically able to see the thoughts leave your brain; there’s nothing but him, him, him

and fuck, you’re so small. so delicate. chubby and soft with the most beautiful wing and eyes. gone is your usual bubbly smile - just your perfect lips letting out tiny gasps.

he growls like an animal when you mutter, barely coherent.

“look ‘t me. look ‘t your king - open your eyes and say it louder.”

and so you do, because he’s the king of the monsters and he’s filling you too well for you to disobey.

“wan’ your eggs hajime, pleaseeee - wan’ your babies!”

and he bares his sharp teeth with a vicious smirk at the thought of you heavy with his hybrid heir, breasts milky and full - your plump little form unable to do anything ‘cept waddle ‘nd cry for your big kaiju husband to help you. ☹️

of your plump little form unable to do anything ‘cept waddle ‘nd cry for your big kaiju husband to help you. ☹️

oh, he’s addicted.

#queen sem😩😩😩#I am the world’s biggest godzilla fan he was made for me.#also check out my post about kaiju no 8 for more monster!iwa #monster!iwa #tw monsterfucking #tw hybrids #hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer #mothzilla #kirby’s asks🌸#x plus size reader #x chubby reader #x black!reader

2K notes · View notes

chikaras-garden · 8 months

Note

idk if it's too much but could i get 4 & 28 (or either one) WITH JASON AANND ROY pleaseepleaseplease i'm foaming at the mouth save me

Hey anon can I kiss you?

Pairing: Jason Todd x Roy Harper x fem!reader

Contains: vigilante!Outlaws!reader, implied threesome, praise, teasing, they’re a throuple okay they’re all in love with each other, J calls Reader “princess”

Words: 300

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

Behind you, you hear Roy’s voice. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Thinking that there’s something wrong with the lock he’s trying to pick—wouldn’t be the first time he made something explode by accident—you quickly look over your shoulder.

Roy’s two steps away from being right on top of you, and he’s advancing with the swift silence of a large, predatory cat. Confused, you instinctively turn and hold up your hands; he takes your fingers in his and presses your arms back against the table behind you.

“You know how sexy you are?” His tone is dark and needy, perhaps a little bratty; you roll your eyes, and he pulls the collar of your costume down to reveal the base of your neck. “Loved how you looked when you took that guy down with your thighs.”

“We don’t have time for this,” you groan the moment Roy’s lips connect with your collarbone. Your skin reacts against your will, warming underneath his mouth, and you forlornly wish you were home instead of in a gang hideout.

“She’s so pretty when she blushes,” Roy murmurs against your throat, but you can feel that his eyes are on Jason.

When you hear a disgruntled noise from across the room, you’re almost certain that Jason’s going to agree with you; your little team of three does not have time for this.

He’s at your side in a second, sheltering both you and Roy with his broad shoulders. And then he says, “Let me look at you, princess.”

Jason’s gloved fingers guide your chin to look up at him, and you’re met with the cold gleam of his mask. Somehow, you still know there’s a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh,” Jason chuckles, rubbing your cheek with cool leather. “Yeah, that’s gorgeous. Gonna have to take her home and do something about this.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #roy harper x reader #roy harper smut #🎈— ask games.#🌸— mine.#🌸— jason todd.#🌸— roy harper.#I am extremely feral about this one.#outlaws!AU

708 notes · View notes

little-bumblebeeee · 2 months

Text

how I think steve figured out The Hair:

Just did what his mom would do when he was like 10

Found his mom's hairspray and magazines, did some thievery of both

Okay we're doing better not as shwoopy

Literally too baby girl for his own good, ran his fingers through it more and grew it out some

Possibly got it trimmed, still doing a routine but not as much as he used to, his hair is definitely softer than pre s3 from not using as much product but he def keeps a bunch on hand for bad hair days (his mom still doesn't know where the farrah fawcett spray went, she doesn't care either because she simply has not been home). Definitely keeps it this way because he knows if his parents were home then they'd make it go back to s1 Lego man hair