#because the people that consume content don’t reblog or comment

[supercalime]

I can’t believe I found people who think about this the exact same way as I do. I don’t get these hardcore buddie stans who suddenly try to make it look like buckTommy shipper are the toxic ones. I haven’t seen a single BuckTommy shipper who was rude without a reason (maybe a bit defensive about their CANON ship). Whereas I’ve seen plenty of incredibly toxic buddie stans who insult everyone who doesn’t ship their ship or share their opinions.

Another thing and don’t get me wrong Im not defending anyone. But I’ve seen many people heavily bullying the marisol actress because she’s apparently homophobic (not saying she isn’t or is) and wanting her to be gone beacause of this reason but totally ignore the alleged racism of ryan (again not saying he is racist or not, i dont know them personally) just because he is part of their beloved ship. By their logic Ryan should leave the show too.

Hey anon, it took me some time to answer your ask (chaotic life stuff lol) but I’m glad to finally have time to talk about this first part with you.

I’ll preface by saying I won’t get involved in actor drama, no matter how true or toxic it is because I don’t have enough information nor am I qualified to talk about the issues they mishandled. I’ll just say that, no matter who does bad things, they should be held accountable.

Okay, back to the main point: yes, it’s very strange how b*ddie st*ns are behaving towards the canon bi!buck thing. Both with people who ship bucktommy but also with the creators and actors on the show. Regardless if they are right or not about b*ddie being canon, this is not how you act with entertainment, specially with the people giving the content.

I hate to bash but it looks and sounds a lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get a specific toy.

And toddlers only throw tantrums because they are brand new humans who are learning how to behave. They don’t know any better so they react with outbursts and repeated demands because it’s the only way they know to get the attention of the person taking care of them.

If I’m not mistaken, the main audience for the show is 18-45. NO ONE here should be yelling in comment sections “we want buddie! we want buddie! we want buddie!” as if they would immediately get it. It’s not how it works and it’s frankly embarrassing to see a bunch of adults acting like that for everyone to see.

And I can’t stress it enough, I’m not putting myself on a high ground here and saying I’m a better person by shipping bucktommy, as I’m sure there might be a percentage of fans out there being rude and annoying as well. But at least I’m keeping my conscience clear by not acting like me shipping two characters is something big enough in my life to ruin my enjoyment of a whole show in case my favorite ship doesn’t become canon.

I hate how fandoms behave as if they can have control over the content they are consuming. We aren’t entitled to anything and if there is supposed to be ANY discourse about which character was supposed to end with, that should happen AFTER the show ended! The story isn’t over yet! So why are b*ddie st*ns so stressed? If a show is making you this angry and demanding, please step aside a little, give it some distance because that’s not how consuming content is supposed to make you feel.

And I say that last part with sincerity because I too got way too involved with fandom discourse in the past, to the point that I had to distance myself from certain shows because being that involved made me upset.

Im just tired at this point you know. Im trying to protect myself as much as possible. Im not in the bird app, I don’t follow the show or the actors on social media, im avoiding interviews like the plague. All I want from this experience is to watch the show, gather my thoughts, form my opinions, log onto tumblr and reblog the cute stuff I see about my favorite ship without having to worry about whatever the hell is going on outside my pretty little bubble

#lety rambles #ask #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #firefly #firepilot

[btsbs]

.

#that army fan club questionnaire floating around today #not going to reblog it because #i’m kind of over getting blocked for having spicy tags #but #man it blows my mind the toxic shit that makes it into official content sometimes #it’s one thing to leave in some of their off hand comments #from behind the scene footage but #literally the FIRST question #‘your pants don’t fit but you’re hungry- just drink water instead right?’ #like who is that for #who is feeling better about anything reading that #do you ever think about all the things they’ve been told by their teams over the years #if this is what is being put out on public display #i know i know Korea is different idols have different standards whatever #eat a fucking banana then a glass of water is not a meal #you can look hot and be fit and still consume food #hybe is well aware the fandom is made up of people #who hang on their every word #a lot of whom at least FIND bts whilst Going Through A Thing #do better man #shout out to jin for being the only one who chose food #he never gives into the not eating bullshit and I love that about him #anyway that’s my two cents #just a girl having thoughts #here on my own blog in my own lane

[kaitycole]

Not me wheezing at seeing people on Twitter go “it seems like people aren’t commenting anymore!” The urge to say “first time?”

#no hate intended #it’s just funny to me #and also raising the point again that comments and engagement keep creators around various platforms #I got a comment on a fanfic the other day and cried because it felt like people still enjoy my work #and I’ve read it like 30 times #leave comments #reblog or retweet #engage with the content you consume or don’t complain when it’s gone 🤷🏻

[cheriecelestial]

Angel Pt.II

pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader

disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. suggestive content. swearing. 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ™️. not proofread !

a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ So here’s part 2. I’m aware of the poll results, but I had already planned to go against the consensus beforehand (cuz ain’t nobody tells me what to do). So smut in pt.III I promise. pls don’t be mad. Comment, Reblog and Like（╹◡╹）♡

╰ ┈➤ Part I

One of Jason's most cherished aspects of his Red Hood helmet was its ability to allow him to doze off undetected. He was curious how Y/N would react if he fell asleep at her place. He knew many people often tried, and foolishly so, to take off his helmet when he was asleep to try to find his identity. Despite his affection for her, he felt the need to ensure her trustworthiness because he knew he wouldn't be able to bear if she betrayed him. If she were to betray him, he reasoned, it would be better sooner rather than later. Feigning sleep, he waited. For a while she just sat and watched him. And not in a vigilant or cautious way, atleast it didn't that way to him. He hoped she would remain that way, but fate seemed to have other plans for him. He heard her retreat to her room, the smallness of her apartment allowing him to observe almost every movement. Maybe I'll buy her a nicer place, he thought to himself.

As she approached him, she checked once more, hiding something behind her back. She wouldn't try to take off his helmet, would she? A profound sense of dread and apprehension gripped him. She was the last person he wanted to betray him. Soon he found himself questioning his own judgment and the authenticity of the relationship. What did you expect? A sinister voice taunted him.

He felt his brain cloud with a whirlwind of emotions such as shock, disbelief, sadness, hurt, and confusion. When her fingertips grazed his helmet, it felt like a deep, agonizing wound piercing to his core. Initially, there was disbelief—a refusal to acknowledge that someone he loved and trusted could do that. He could feel the pit rage resurface, fierce and consuming, directed at her and perhaps even at himself for allowing himself to be vulnerable enough to be wounded in such a way.

He anticipated her lifting his helmet, only she didn't. She withdrew her hands and let out a tiny giggle. He was struck with the realisation that she didn't try to take his helmet off, rather she placed something atop it. It was out of his field of view so he couldn't quite tell what it was. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her take out her phone and snap a picture. Unfortunately for her, she forgot to switch off the flash. Jason took the opportunity and in the blink of an eye, her grabbed her wrist and flipped her over his shoulder, slamming into the couch. He pushed his forearm against her throat with his other hand pinning her under him.

“What do you think you're doing angel ?” He growled as his thumb trailed from her bottom lip to her cheek in a gesture that was equal parts sultry and sinister. Her eyes widened like saucers as cold sweat started to form on the side of her forehead. Her body might froze momentarily before trembling with fear. He didn't realise just how small she felt against him until he was on top of her. Akin to a quivering rabbit ensnared in a hunter's trap. Truth be told, the analogy wasn't far off.

"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. I swear it was a prank —" She tugged at her restraints with tears forming at the corner of her eyes, her breathing becoming shallower and rapid but Jason didn't budge. She felt all too aware of the situation she was in. His proximity so close that she could feel so exposed under his gaze. It was intimidating yet so intoxicating, the feeling of being enclosed by him, the scent that was so intense and virile was enough to make her head spin. She could hear her heartbeat resonating in her ears and it was clear that he could too. Needless to say, Y/N L/N messed up big time.

"What was ? Hmm?" He leaned in closer to her face until his helmet was mere centimeters away, relishing in the sadistic pleasure of watching her teary eyes as she whimpered and muttered incomprehensible apologies. Seeing her struggle to form words, he picked up her phone to view the picture she had taken. It was him with what seemed like — a fuzzy bear ears headband? He plucked it from his helmet, staring at it incredulously. You have got to be kidding me.

"You're so fucking adorable, you know that ?" He let out an airy chuckle that was felt more than heard as he shakes with a silent laugh. "You're not mad at me ?"Y/N's voice sounded so desperate like a broken whimper. Her pretty eyes still wide and a little teary and red at the ends, a visible look of confusion etched onto it.

He wanted to stroke her cheek again, but he feared he wouldn't be able to stop himself from going further. "I don't know. Should I be?" He chuckled, and while he was mostly teasing, he couldn't help but marvel at her.

Despite his experiences with many women, he had never encountered someone so captivating. Just by the virtue of being pinned under him, she looked just so impossibly inviting. Jason found himself rendered breathless as his mind wandered into the realm of the most salacious thoughts.

"But this warrants punishment. Does it not?" He watched her breath catching in her throat, her cheeks and the tips of her ears flushing with heat.

Y/N swallowed hard," Punishment ?" She nervously peered at the man, a a slight shiver running down her spine as she could almost feel his piercing cold gaze from behind the red helmet. She understood her predicament and knew she shouldn't be enjoying it. It could take an unfavourable turn at any given moment and she wouldn't be able to do anything about it. Suddenly, he released her hands and leaned back. Despite feeling a little disoriented from his sudden absence of his towering self, Y/N sat back up. Jason held up the headband in his hand,"Do you have more of these?"

"A few. Yes" she replied.

"Go get them." he said nonchalantly. Y/N blinked at his request, feeling a hint of disappointment creeping in. As she rose slowly and made her way to the dresser, she scolded herself internally, Jesus get your brain out of the gutter Y/N. Not wanting to keep him waiting, she gathered all the headbands she had and dropped them onto the couch. "You have quite the collection," Jason chuckled, examining a headband. "Mostly from previous Halloweens and costume cafés I used to work at." Y/N explained. Jason's gaze settled on a particularly intriguing headband - white floppy bunny ears with pink bows. He tossed it onto her lap, grinning,“Put this on.”

Y/N complied without question and looked at him expectantly. Jason whipped out his phone and aimed it at her,“ Strike me a cute pose angel." Her eyes widened in a mix of surprise embarrassment," Wait what ?”

"Well you clicked that picture of me so it's pretty fair trade if you ask me." He reasoned, attempting to maintain a neutral tone, though secretly relishing the moment thoroughly. He maintained composure, not wanting to risk scaring her away. He eagerly snapped photos as Y/N reluctantly donned the headband and flashed a small peace sign, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his own heart racing in his chest and his face growing warm.

"Please don't show it to anyone. It's embarrassing," She pleaded. Jason acknowledged her request with an absentminded nod, slipping his phone into his pocket. He hadn't quite reached the stage of covertly taking pictures and plastering them on his walls like a stalker, but he reasoned that photos she consented to were fair game. Plus that was more Tim's thing, Jason liked shooting his shot up front or atleast that’s what he told himself. He casually grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it on his lap so she wouldn't have to see his raging boner.

"Now how about we fire up the console. Video games you said?" Jason suggested holding the dvd in his hand that Y/N had completely forgotten about. She eagerly grabbed the controllers and settled onto the couch, anticipation sparking in her eyes as the previous tension eased. Jason stared at the game dvd and couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. "Do you play video games often ?" Y/N asked him with a smile. "Only when I'm with the boys at the batcave or with Ro – ahem I meant Arsenal. Starfire is temporarily banned because she's burnt too many controllers out of excitement." She laughed at his words, almost imagining the scene.

"Well I'm sure you dominate in physical fights. Let's see how you hold out in a virtual one. I hope you're ready." Y/N challenged, a competitive gleam in her eyes.

"Bring it on angel." Jason replied, his fingers already poised over the buttons. Before they knew, they were completely immersed in the game, their laughter and exchanging banter and competitive jabs filling the room. Whether they were working together to overcome a tough level or engaging in heated competition, their bond only grew stronger with each passing minute.

"Oh come on ! You've won like the fourth time in a row. This thing has to be rigged !" Jason accusingly jabbed his controller at the screen in frustration, eliciting laughter from Y/N at how worked up he got over something insignificant like a video game.

"'ll let you in on a little secret. I'm a bit of a pro. Back in college, gaming was like my side hustle," she whispered with a mischievous grin, leaning in closer. Jason's interest piqued at her revelation. He couldn't deny his curiosity about how she had been these past few years. Despite his thorough investigations, he knew that no amount of research could uncover the personal intricacies of her college life - the moments of joy that lit up her face, the frustrations that weighed heavy on her shoulders, the solitary hours spent, the struggles she endured, and the victories she celebrated. It was a side of her story that remained untold, a mystery he was eager to unravel.

"In college, I used to dress up real cute and go to frat parties and challenge guys to play with me and if they lost they'd have to pay me." Y/N continued. It sounded like a perfect plan on paper. Deceptive disguise, psychologically analysing targets and exploiting their weaknesses against them, strategic thinking and meticulosity. But her explanation wasn't enough to satiate his curiosity. "And what if they won?" The most important part of any good plan was enticing bait. A part of him knew the answer but still wanted confirmation. "Something no college frat boy would reject. I said I'd blow their dick." Y/N grinned causing Jason to visibly freeze in disbelief. "I know how it sounds, but don’t worry l've never lost. Ever," she assured him quickly. After a pause, Jason's voice wavered at the start of the sentence as he spoke up, "How much did they have to pay you if you won?" Y/ N furrowed her eyebrows slightly, trying to recall the details from the past events. Amidst the long hours of studying in med school and her meager earnings from a part-time job, she had resorted to more crafty ways of earning money and gaming happened to be the most lucrative option to make more in less time.

"Well, most college students couldn't afford to pay much, so it was ten dollars per game," she explained. Jason nodded, retrieving his wallet. "You beat me four times, right ?" With determination, he placed four hundred-dollar bills on the coffee table before her, his next words filled with unwavering resolve,"Play your game with me angel.” Y/N's eyes widened at the sight of the money on the table, and she took in a deep breath, contemplating his offer for a moment. What could she possibly have to lose?

“It's okay Red. You tried.” After two more rounds of competition, Jason suffered a devastating loss before finally realizing why he felt a sense of déjà vu— it was the same video game he, Duke, Dick, and Tim had played a couple of months ago. He vividly remembered losing his temper, nearly throwing hands when Tim used underhanded tactics against him and Dick violated every rule of sportsmanship and sacrificing every last modicum of decency over the game and Damian scoffing at their "immaturity" like he always did while Duke tried his best to pacify the conflict. The reason he didn't recognise this before was because him and Y/N were playing in a different mode than this. "How about we switch up the mode?"

"Sure let's do it."Y/N grinned confidently. The two sat side by side, eyes fixed on the glowing neon screens in front of them. Their fingers danced across the controllers, every move was calculated, every strategy meticulously planned as they vied for dominance. The room was filled with the sound of intense concentration and occasional bursts of laughter or frustration. The tension in the room was palpable, as neither of them were willing to concede an inch in this high-stakes competition. With every round, the stakes rose, and the intensity only grows as they pushed each other to their limits in pursuit of victory.

"You have got to be kidding me." Y/N breathed out as the letters "GAME OVER" As the defeat screen flashed before her eyes, she recoiled in shock, her mouth agape in disbelief. Her eyes widened in astonishment, unable to comprehend how her skill that she believed to be unparalleled had fallen short. Her hands, which had been gripping the controller tightly, now hung limply by her sides, fingers trembling with a mixture of disbelief and resignation. Jason's heart raced with exhilaration, his body shaking with the rush of victory. With a triumphant shout, he leaped from his seat, pumping his fists in the air as a grin stretched across his face. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT !! LET'S FUCKING GO !!!”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat as she comprehended the implication of her loss. Her cheeks flushed with a faint blush of embarrassment and she averted her gaze while fidgeting nervously in her seat. Her tongue ran over her lips as she avoided meeting Jason's eyes. He noticed this and remembered what the winning condition was. He straightened up and cleared his throat, regaining his composure," You know it was just a silly game, you don't have to do that. I won't force you into doing anything you're not comfortable with." Y/N managed a small relieved smile," Thank you. But you know a bet is a bet. So how about a kiss instead ? Wait you’re over 18, right ?"

"A kiss ? Oh cool. Yeah we could do that and to answer your question I’m legal. I’d show you my ID but that kinda defeats the whole purpose of the secret identity thing." Jason scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. Despite how he composed on the outside, he could almost hear his 10 year old self rejoicing at the prospect of finally being able to kiss his first love. Ever since the warehouse incident, he had buried that naive part of himself, believing it to be dead along with other redeeming qualities, at least according to those around him.

He knew he wandered down dark paths, driven by desires of revenge, bitterness and reckless impulses. But when he looked into her eyes, deep within him, he felt that there was a flicker of hope, a belief that redemption is possible. He knew he wasn't deserving of someone so sweet and pure, but perhaps just this once, he would allow himself this one indulgence.

"So should I like bring out the scarf ?" Y/N asked. Her heart, which was felt unstable and claustrophobically confined inside of her, hammering against her ribcage as if it sought to burst out and soar away. "Don't bother." Jason interjected, producing a small black box from his jacket pocket. "I've been meaning to give you this, but never found the right moment." Y/N opened the box and found a silk blindfold which was black on one side and red on the other, the same shade of red as his helmet. As her fingertips glided over its surface, it felt like touching liquid satin. There's a distinct sensation of coolness and silkiness that enveloped her. It was like touching a cloud or being embraced by a gentle breeze. “What's this for ? Don't trust my scarf enough ?” Y/N joked. Jason shrugged his shoulders and answered casually,“Well yes and no. Your scarf is made of scratchy fabric and you have sensitive skin so I thought —”

“How do you know I have sensitive skin ?” She couldn’t recall sharing that detail, finding it peculiar that he knew. Jason bit his tongue, regretting his slip-up. It was one of those things he remembered about her from years ago. When they were younger, she would often complaint how her work uniform was really scratchy and how she hated it against her sensitive skin and he would always say that when he grew up he would buy her the nicest and softest of clothes. But of course given their current circumstance, he couldn’t tell her that.

Jason pointed to the bottle of lotion sitting on the dinner table. “That. It says for dry and sensitive skin.” Y/N turned in the direction he pointed her astonishment rendering her momentarily speechless, her mouth agape, unable to comprehend how he pieced together such intricate details. Her eyes widened with admiration, reflecting a mixture of awe and reverence for his uncanny ability to observe so keenly, she commented,“ You know everything about you is such a suspension of disbelief kinda thing. Like I’m sure you could tell me the craziest things and I’d go ‘yeah sure that makes sense’. ”Jason chuckled awkwardly, relieved that he had quickly found an explanation for his slip-up and diverted her suspicion,“Well you know being around batman, the detective shit rubs off.”

Y/N raised the blindfold to her eye level and with deliberate movements, she tied it securely around her head, feeling the darkness engulfing her vision. The fabric is incredibly fine, almost weightless against her skin. The smoothness of silk glides effortlessly against the skin, created a feeling of luxury and indulgence effectively making the moment much more sensuous than it was supposed be. With the blindfold tied securely around her eyes, a hush fell over her surroundings, amplifying the sound of her own heartbeat.

A sense of anticipation filled her, as if the world had suddenly become a mystery waiting to be explored solely through touch, sound, and intuition. She couldn’t deny the excitement coursing through her veins, feeling herself surrendering to the unknown, willingly relinquishing the sense of sight for a deeper, more visceral experience. As darkness enveloped her, her other senses heightened, attuned to the subtlest of changes in the environment. Y/N let out a soft gasp when she heard his helmet being set down on the table with a quiet thud.

“You know we don’t have to do this. It’s okay if you want to back out. I —” Jason began tentatively, carefully watching her for any signs of discomfort. She reassured him calmly, “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He slowly cupped her face and leaned closer. She could feel his warm breath on her face. Jason’s lips brushed against hers, uncertain and almost fearful. “Y/N I—” he stilled against her, waiting for her reaction. He knew this was one bridge that once burnt would either leave him at the edge of the abyss or paradise and needless to say, he couldn’t blow this. “Just shut up and kiss me Red. You earned it.”

“Yes ma’am,”Jason let out a breath of disbelief. The world around him seemed to melt away and all that existed was her and the euphoric feeling of her warm and pliant mouth on his. The beast inside him thrashed against the iron bars of his cage of self control, its roars echoing within him — wanting nothing but to sink his teeth into Y/N’s supple and inviting flesh and ravage her. His fingers cupping her face twitched with the need to touch more of her. Before he knew, his hands slid up of its own accord and tangled themselves in the soft locks of her hair.

Jason spent a lifetime honing his self control. Batman had drilled its importance into his system but as of now could feel every last ounce of self control he possessed slip through his fingers like sand. But he forced himself to focus. A part of him felt guilty for feeling the way he felt about her, his need for her — it was desperate, perverse, wrong even because Jason knew that if she realised that who he was she might never look at him the same way again but he couldn’t get himself to let go of something so damnably intoxicating. Y/N was the first one to pull away, her breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as if trying to catch up with her sprinting heart. She could feel him grin against her lips.

“Good game Red.”

“Does anyone else feel like she's finally lost it, or is it just me ?”

"I can hear you, Stephanie," Y/N huffed, rolling her eyes. In retaliation, the blonde high schooler blew a raspberry at her co-worker, causing Y/N to shake her head in resignation. "That's why I said it. Babs back me up," Stephanie retorted.

“Please. We have enough crazies in Gotham as it is, there’s no need for any more.” Barbara Gordon was another one of Y/N best friends along with Cass Cain and was the daughter of the GCPD commissioner and the girlfriend of Dick Grayson. She was a couple years older than Y/N and most of all, the mom friend and pacifist of the group.

"But you know you have been acting strange. You've been touching your lips every five minutes and zoning out like right now —" Cass trailed off, sipping coffee from cup. Not realizing that she was doing that right now, Y/N jerked her hand off as if caught while stealing. The second the words left Cass's mouth, a realization dawned on the trio simultaneously, as if a light bulb had illuminated above their heads.

"What ?" Y/N muttered feeling oddly cornered. Trying her hardest to ignore the elephant in the room, she went back to working. The three friends exchanged glances, silently debating who would broach the subject with Y/N. Eventually, Barbara rolled her eyes and took charge, as neither of the younger girls seemed willing. "Y/N, I'd like to order," Barbara declared, wheeling her wheelchair closer to the counter. Y/N shifted her attention to her, nodding as she grabbed a pen and notepad, ready to take Barbara's order with practiced efficiency.

"I'd like to order tea," Barbara stated.

"Sure. So, would that be Earl Grey?" Y/N asked with a knowing smile.

"Nope."

"Assamese?"

"Not that either."

"Darjeeling ? Jasmine ? Matcha ?" Y/N proposed, offering a variety of tea options in an attempt to pinpoint Barbara's preference, her brows furrowing in confusion as to why she wasn't ordering her usual. “Then ?” She tilted her head in questioning but Barbara just smiled back and winked playfully,“You know, tea, piping hot if you know what I mean.”

“Uggh fine you win. So there's this guy,” The h/c haired woman started slowly and the three women groaned in unison. This was a common yet much disliked drill. The atmosphere shifted and a heavy silence settles over the group. Cass's eyes widened, a look worry flashing across her face. She exchanged a quick glance with Steph, who mirrored her expression. Barbara, ever the voice of reason, remained composed but her concern was evident in the slight furrow of her brow,“ We’ve talked about this.”

Y/N, the one who had made the revelation, shifted uncomfortably under the scrutinizing gazes of her companions. She could feel the weight of their judgment bearing down on her, and it made her regret ever bringing up the topic. “Okay just hear me out —”

There was a moment of hesitation, as if each of them was struggling with how to respond to this. Finally, it was Steph who broke the silence, her voice edged with frustration.

“No there will be no ‘hear me out’s. Look Y/N Imma be honest with you. You’re legit nicer than 99.99% gothamites and in all honesty the only thing I hate about you is your fucking taste in men. Every seven months you come with hear me out on men who are leather wearing alcoholics and are always gaslighting, lying, cheating, abusive bastards or just straight up criminals !” She whispered in a tone passionately incredulous, drawing attention from other cafe patrons. Cass remained silent, but her expression spoke volumes. It was clear that she shared Steph's apprehension about their friend's poor taste in men.

Barbara chose her words carefully. “She’s right, you do have a bit of a problem. We just don’t want you getting hurt over guys like that or worse them hurting you and I don’t mean just emotionally.” she spoke gently, her tone laced with genuine concern.

“It’s not even that bad —” Y/N started. “Well you did date a two bit drug dealer.” Cass muttered quietly. “How was I supposed to know that ? It’s not like he offered me to do cocaine on the first date plus Orphan did save me in the nick of time so no harm done.” Y/N huffed in defense.

“Why don’t you try dating someone who’s actually nice for a change?”

“Sure, like who?” Y/N chuckled sarcastically.

“Maybe someone who’s like Dick?” Steph suggested. Dick Grayson was the epitome of the popular charismatic jock kid at school. It wasn’t hard to understand why he was so liked — with his sanguine personality, witty puns, kind hearted and generous personality he was pretty much the shining paragon of an upstanding citizen and your boy next door. Unfortunately, such traits rarely aligned with Y/N tastes. “I mean he’s very attractive of course but he’s just not my type you know. He’s too —”

“Nice ?” Barbara guessed.

“Yeah, that. But if he has a brother then well—” Y/N trailed off, half-jokingly.

“No!” The three exclaimed in unison, catching her off guard. Their eyes widened as if she said something really offensive.

“Whoa what was that about ?” Y/N asked. The three exchanged glances, and Barbara cleared her throat before speaking up. “Well, Dick does have brothers. Two of them are minors, so that’s an immediate no, and the third one— he’s not a bad guy per se. He would never hurt a woman, especially someone as sweet as you, but—”

“But?” Y/N raised an eyebrow and shook her head, urging her friend to continue.

“He’s got issues. Like a boatload of them,” she finished, carefully articulating each word.

“What sort of issue ? Daddy issues ? Mommy Issues ? Parental Issues ? Parental Issues - Orphan Edition ? Step parent issues ? I’ve dealt with them all before you know.”

“More like all, in that order.” Cass muttered.

“Wow this guy sounds like a party. You should introduce me to him sometime. Him and I would definitely hit it off.” Y/N joked.

“Please don’t come up with any more of those ‘I can fix him’s. You’re a barista not Handy Manny.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to brush off their concerns. “You know what I usually mean by I can fix him is that I can made him tolerable till I get bored of him and dump him. Sure, I’ve made mistakes but this one is different,”she insisted.

“Different how ?” Barbara raised her brow skeptically.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she regaled her friends about the events of the video game bet, conveniently leaving out the details of Red being a vigilante and that prank incident — they didn’t need to know that. Her friends leaned in, somewhat captivated by her animated storytelling. Gasps of disbelief and amazement erupted from her friends. Their curiosity evident as they leaned in, eager to soak in every detail of the story.

The tension in the air had eased as the group exchanged glances, each grappling with their own thoughts and feelings about the situation. It was clear that this revelation had thrown them all for a loop, leaving them unsure of how to proceed. But one thing was certain – they would stand by their friend, even if they didn't particularly agree with her choices.

“You know only I was of legal age, I’d wife you up so fast it’d set world records. That ways we wouldn’t have to deal with this.” Steph lamented, earning a smack from Y/N. Despite her sassy quips and teasing, Stephanie Brown was never shy to be vocal about her affections for her favourite barista. “Unfortunately for you, I’m not into kids. Also aren’t you dating Tim ?” Y/N asked.

“Well yeah. But he’s not like my boyfriend boyfriend. He’s like my pet ferret than my boyfriend.”

“I was so sure I got promoted to pet guinea pig last Monday.” A voice piped up from Y/N’s side. She let out a small scream, her body tensing up in pure terror. Her heart raced as she spun around, eyes wide with fear, her hands poised to defend herself, only to find Tim Drake with an expression of mock offence on his face and Dick next to him with his head propped on top of his fist, listening intently with a smile on his face.

“How long have you been standing here ?” She exclaimed, putting her hand on her hip, her voice a mixture of surprise and reproach. Dick’s mischievous grin faltered slightly as she held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Oh don’t mind me," he said, trying to suppress a giggle. "I’m just here for the girl talk."

“Dick I’ve said this before and I’ll say this again. You aren’t allowed when we’re having the girl talk.” Y/N jabbed her finger in warning at him, her tone tainted with a hint of genuine irritation.

“What ? Why ? Ever since I first watched Mean Girls I’ve always dreamed of being a part of a girl clique. You can’t do this to me.” Wearing a mock expression of sadness and offence, he pouted like a five year old child, crossing his arms.

“Well you can’t sit with us detective.”

“Why not ?”

“Well because this is a girl clique. Duh.” Steph sassed back. Dick raised his eyebrows, feigning disbelief,“Discrimination, plain and simple. I demand equal rights for guy friends in girl cliques !”

Y/N rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile. "Nice try but no. You're always welcome for skin care and movie nights. But girl talk is strictly off-limits. And no don’t look at Babs, she can’t and won’t help you."

Dick’s shoulders slumped dramatically, admitting defeat. "I guess it's just one of life's cruel ironies. But hey, I can still be an honorary member, right ?" He gave her a hopeful grin, knowing fully well that his charm wouldn't be enough to sway her strict rules.

“Just give up man. Winning isn’t in the cards for you. Now, scram. Y/N should please continue.” Tim shooed Dick as if he were a stray dog. “Tim you too.” Cass deadpanned.

“Why ? I’m not like him ! Pretty sure you girls can make exceptions for bi guinea pigs.” He retorted.

“Ferret,” Steph corrected,“ You ate my turkey sandwich last Tuesday so you got demoted to ferret.”

“Only if you’re ready to forfeit your right to a free coffee refills after five paid cups a day.” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. Tim’s expression twisted into sheer horror, as if she had threatened his very existence. Given his caffeine addiction, it might as well have been a threat on his life.

Tim cleared his throat and began with a disapproving look, "Ahem. Richard, isn't it utterly disgraceful for esteemed gentlemen like us to eavesdrop on ladies like that? Shame on you. What would Alfred and Bruce say ?"

“Who are Alfred and Bruce?” Y/N inquired. Tim immediately regretted his words, closing his eyes briefly. “Oh, just seniors at work,” Dick hastily replied with an awkward laugh. “You two should probably head out,” Barbara interjected with a pointed look. Tim and Dick hurriedly departed without any sign of resistance. As Y/N turned, she noticed Cass had vanished, and Steph had returned to her tasks, leaving her to process the recent events alone. Huh. Weird.

As Y/N’s weary hand reached for the brass doorknob of her house, she felt the exhaustion of the day to loosen its grip on her, replaced by a sense of relief. The metal of the doorknob offered a stark contrast between its own cold surface and the warmth of home she longed for beyond the threshold. With a familiar click, the door swung open and she hung her bag and scarf on the hat stand. The second she stepped through the threshold, a pleasant aroma of spices and the sound of someone humming to a song floated through the air. The scent was homely and comforting. Wait. I live alone then who’s cooking in the kitchen ? Puzzled and scared, she dropped her keys on the table and cautiously made her way towards the kitchen. With every step, the sound of sizzling and the clinking of utensils grew louder. Tiptoeing to the edge of the kitchen wall, she peered around the corner.

“Red ?” Her eyes widened as she stared at the most unlikely scene she could’ve ever imagined in her life. The vigilante Red Hood — Prince of Gotham, Scourge of the Underworld, the Wraith of Gotham, the Renegade Knight — stood in Y/N’s normal sized apron that looked comically small on him, stirring pasta sauce while listening to Taylor Swift. She stood frozen, unable to process the sheer absurdity of the scene in front of her.

“You’re back !” She could almost see him grinning from behind his signature mask. She blinked several times, thinking all of this was some sort of wishful thinking induced daydream. But the smell of simmering marinara and the faint sound of Taylor Swift's voice confirmed otherwise, effectively shattering any semblance of normalcy in the room leaving her to wonder how could this larger-than-life figure, feared by criminals and revered by the city, be standing in her humble kitchen cooking pasta ?

Yet, there he was, a paradoxical blend of hero and something so curiously domestic. As she watched him, a mix of amusement and curiosity washed over her. “What’s going on here ?” Y/N asked, gesturing to the kitchen in general. “Oh this ? Um it sort of happened,” Jason replied casually, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world for a vigilante to be whipping up a meal in someone else's kitchen.

“It just happened ?” Y/N repeated dumbfounded. She leaned against the kitchen counter, still trying to process the scene before her. Looking around, she noticed the counter cluttered with groceries she didn’t recall purchasing. Opening the fridge, she saw that her once-empty fridge was stocked with gourmet items she had only seen on upscale cooking shows. “Well I came to see you but you hadn’t returned from work. I got up to get a glass of water from the fridge and saw that there wasn’t anything in it so I —”he began, attempting to explain the situation.

“So you bought me groceries ? And the pasta ? That also just happened ?” she asked, her interest piqued. "Um yeah. It did," he admitted sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. “It was on a whim don’t think too much of it.” Jason glanced at her, hoping she would find his gesture too strange. His eyes flitted to the clock on the wall before landing back at her,"I figured that it’s already dark outside so it’s not safe to go get stuff. Plus, I make a mean pasta," he quipped, flashing a hint of pride in his voice.

She couldn't argue with that. As she watched him continue to cook, a sense of gratitude washed over her. Despite the reputation he amassed, he was here, in her home, bringing solace that no one had in a very long time. Her world felt harmonious, as if every piece fell into place effortlessly. In that moment, Red Hood wasn't just a feared vigilante—he was a friend, albeit an unusual one, who had somehow found his way into her life and her kitchen and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“By the way,” Jason began, wiping his hands on the apron and shifting his tone to seriousness as he turned towards her, “I wanted to ask you something. Where did you get that?” He gestured towards the felt clipboard hanging on the opposite wall. Y/N followed his gaze, seeing the map of Gotham he had given her along with the necklace the week they met. It had really helped her avoid dangerous parts of the town after dark. But why was he asking about it when he was the one who gave it to her? “What do you mean? You’re the one who gave me the map,” she said, tilting her head in confusion.

“Not the map. The batarang. I don’t recall leaving any of those here,” he clarified. Y/N’s eyes fell on the sleek metal batarang pinning the map to the clipboard. Her mouth rounded in an ‘o’ when she pieced it together. “The batarang ? Red Robin gave it to me.” she exclaimed. Her words clearly struck a nerve because Jason felt completely silent following her words. “It’s a funny story actually. You know I work at a café. This one night I was closing up and Red Robin came in asking for a coffee refill. I had almost closed up the shop but the poor thing looked like he had been through hell so I refilled his coffee. He tried to pay but he couldn’t find his wallet so he paid with a batarang.” She quickly added, hoping to diffuse any building tension.

Jason wordlessly walked to the clipboard and effortlessly retrieving the batarang before swapping it with his own from his pocket. “Better.” He muttered with satisfaction, addressing no one in particular. “Hey give that back !” Y/N tried to take it from his hand but he held it above her head where she couldn’t reach it. “What do you even need it for ?” He asked sounding somewhat annoyed. “It was an experience souvenir, you can’t take that !” She tried to reason despite knowing there was no point. “Well I’m sure Red Hood cooking dinner was you is beats refilling coffee for some drenched beaten up rat any day.”

Y/N’s eyes fell on the Red Hood’s batarang that was now pining the Map of Gotham to the clipboard instead of Red Robin’s batarang. It was similar in shape and size, resembling a bat's silhouette with pointed wings extending from a central handle. Except his batarang sported his signature red hue with black-rimmed edges. On closer inspection, Y/N noticed it had the words “Property Of Red Hood” scrawled on it in near illegible handwriting with a permanent marker.

“It’s already in your colours. What’s the point of writing your name on it ?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Because there are little shits that like to take my stuff without asking. So it’s a reminder that if they do, I will find them and after than no one else ever will.” He replied vaguely.

“Thugs ?”

“Worse. Siblings.”

“That sounds… tough,” Y/N remarked. She could only imagine what it would be like dealing with having vigilante siblings and the unique dynamics they have with each other. “You have no idea,” Jason replied in a wry tone. “But y’know ohana and all. Can’t get rid of them even if I wanted to.”

“Then what do you hold against the poor kid ?”

“Look it’s not that. Everyone thinks I hate him but I don’t,” Jason countered, pausing before continuing, “Okay maybe a teeny tiny bit but that’s beside the point. It’s just… it’s just I just hate him with you —”Jason caught himself before ending up saying anything that would just come to bite him in the ass. Y/N’s eyes widened a fraction in realization before smiling. “Are you jealous ?”

“What ? No !” He swiftly shook his head, dismissing the suggestion despite the faint blush creeping up his neck,“ I’m not jealous. He’s just trouble and I don’t want him being near my —”He attempted to maintain his composure, but his defensive tone betrayed a hint of insecurity. Y/N titled her head, studying his body language carefully and asked,“Your what ?”

“My – my person.” Jason finished softly, his gaze dropping to the floor, uncertain about his choice of words. His heart racing as he struggled to find the right words to convey his feelings not wanting giving too much away nor did he want to invite misunderstandings by using the term ‘friend.’

Y/N let out a small chuckle,“ What ? So just because I work for you means I can’t interact with any of your sibling ?”

Jason raised his head in alarm,“ That’s not what I meant !” He clarified hurriedly. Oh ?

“Then what did you mean ? Hmm ?” Y/N inched closer to him, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. It had been exactly five days since he had kissed her, kissed her with insatiable hunger as if he intended to swallow her whole. Glancing down, she noticed his hand clenched around the material of his pants so tightly she feared he might tear a hole into them. Slowly, she trailed her hand up his arm, offering her sweetest smile. She felt his muscles tense under her touch, as though he was fighting - resisting. Y/N knew that teasing him might as well be biting off more than she could chew but Y/N 'life is all about taking risks and new experiences' L/N was willing to bet on her luck.

“The pasta is getting cold. You should —,”Jason's throat tightened as Y/N’s hand reached his shoulder, he couldn’t help but shiver slightly — his resolve wavering under her touch. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure, but her closeness was making it increasingly difficult to think straight. He watched as she looked right at him and then lowered her gaze to the part of his mask where his lips would be for a split second and then flit back to his eyes with a teasing mirth dancing in her eyes. Fuck. This woman is driving me crazy.

“— e-eat it before it gets cold,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. As a part of training, Bruce had taught all the Robins the psychology of seduction so that they could identify it and evade it and as of now, every fibre of his being screamed warnings. Her actions were daring, albeit innocent. But they weren't even half as blatant or polished as the seasoned honeytrappers and seductresses he had encountered, but they still stirred something so primal deep within him, tempting him to abandon caution. The part of his arm her fingertips grazed felt like it was on fire. No scratch that he had experienced what it was to have his skin on fire. This was exponentially worse.

Ever since Y/N re-entered his life, Jason Peter Todd was experiencing what one would call selective erectile dysfunction. Consumed by thoughts of Y/N, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything else. So a few weeks back, he sought to blow off some steam and divert his mind from the thoughts of Y/N overwhelming his system. Jason considered himself fairly easy to satisfy since all his encounters had been transactional, outlets for physical release and nothing more.

However much to his bafflement, his dick refused to react to anything for the past few days and embarrassingly so. There were plenty of flavours to choose from at the iceberg lounge but instead Jason jr. decided to give on the silent treatment instead. It was being a dick, literally. After the whole Lazarus pit shebang, whatever toxic shit he got tossed into as a part of some supervillain’s dastardly schemes, prescription meds he got talked into taking for quote unquote “mental health” — He was no stranger to bodily side effects but this was completely different.

This whole thing reached its height when Jason jr. refused to entertain the advances of a perfectly attractive busty blonde despite the fact that it was dying from sexual frustration and Jason was so ready to get over it. Under normal circumstances, it would be up and ready for action however it decided to stay completely and utterly indifferent — bored even. Effectively forcing Jason into non-consensual celibacy.

The only time it did react in his time at the iceberg lounge was when a model who had conspicuously similar hair colour and face shape to Y/N approached him with flirtation in her eyes. Jason jr. almost got hard, key word almost, when it made the important distinction that she was not Y/N and absolutely didn’t want her lips wandering anywhere his frustrating self. And by selective, he meant that Jason jr. developed a will of his own and turned into one of those overly enthusiastic parents cheering for their kids at school plays, not that Jason had experienced it personally, but that’s besides the point. The point being it would tent up and twitch uncontrollably begging for attention the second he sensed Y/N L/N’s presence in a mile’s distance. At the peak of his condition, Jason couldn’t so much as glance at a surface without his brain conjuring obscene images of how she would look pressed down against it, writhing and moaning his name.

As an avid reader, Jason was something of a hopeless romantic man and he knew that a couple’s first time was an important milestone in their relationship and could most definitely not be done on a whim. He had it all planned out, scented candles, silk sheets and all. It had to be special — touching, sweet, loving and most definitely not some lust-fueled spur of the moment thing his dick was pushing for right now. So there wasn’t much he could do, except sit in abject misery and hope to weather through the storm.

Okay, Jason. You survived being blown up by the joker. This is just another challenge. Focus on something else. Jason motivated himself with his voice of reason sounding suspiciously a lot like Nightwing and took a deep breath.

His eyes wandered till they found their way back to Y/N. She was wearing one of her typical sundresses with pastel floral patterns adorning it with a navy blue cardigan draped around her shoulders and the golden necklace resting on her neck. Her hair was fashioned into a high ponytail with loose strands framing her face.

Based on what he had observed she seemed to have a penchant for sundresses, which Jason believed complemented her overall personality quite well. He often found himself mesmerized by the way the sundresses accentuated Y/N's features, the dress hugging her curves perfectly and the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. She almost looked like she had walked out of a cottage fairy tail. I bet I could shred it like tissue paper. Wait what ? Where did that come from ? Okay let’s try again. He turned his focus back to her. Most of her makeup had worn off from the day’s work, except for the eyeliner and the faintly sparkling light pink lip gloss on her lips, which seemed to have been touched up a few times. I wonder what she would look like on her knees, with her lips wrapped around my cock and that pretty mascara running down her cheeks.

Jason shot a glare at his pants. "Can you please shut up for just two goddamn seconds ? I'm trying to be respectful here," he muttered under his breath, hoping for a moment of peace. At this rate he contemplated the need for an exorcist to exorcise these insistent demons out of his system. He glanced up to find Y/N watching him. "Did you say something?" she asked but he simply shook his head in denial. Though she appeared skeptical, she chose not to press further. Moving to the cabinet, she requested, “Could you please grab the glasses? They’re in the third cabinet on the left,” while she fetched plates for serving and set them on the table. Jason obliged, retrieving the glasses, and as he placed them on the table, his hand inadvertently brushed against hers. Y/N glanced at him and flashed a gentle smile.

He could swear he felt his dick twitch. What are you some sort of pitiful depraved virgin ? Get your shit together. This is downright embarrassing. He scoffed at himself. Amid his current inner turmoil, he had become hyper aware of Y/N’s every micro movement from tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear to adjusting her ponytail or stooping to retrieve a fallen fork. Jason’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her bend down causing hemline of her dress to lift up, revealing a scene that would surely haunt him on his nights alone. No no no dont even- think of the lord Jason. What would Alfred say ?

Our Father who arth in heaven,

Hallowed be thy Name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done, On earth as it is in heaven.

“Mmmh this is so good !” Y/N moaned in delight as she took the first bite, her eyes widen in amazement, savoring the flavour dancing on their taste buds. Jason felt his throat dry up. Oh of course, she just had to make that sound. The universe was really against him today, more so than usual. With two dicks talking to him, he just had to figure out which one to listen to.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive us our — wait how did that go again ?

Despite Jason's best efforts to maintain composure, Y/N's every movement seemed to unravel his resolve further. As she savored each bite, he couldn't help but be captivated by the way her lips formed around the fork, her eyes alight with pleasure. With each passing moment, his internal struggle intensified, torn between the desire to avert his gaze and this magnetic force of a woman. Her presence seemed to envelop him, every sound she made echoing in his mind, her every gesture etched into his memory. How could he resist the temptation when she was right there, so effortlessly bewitching ?

Y/N placed her hand on his and he pulled away instinctively, the smile on her face faltered but she didn’t say anything. Jason made a mental note to bash his head into a wall hard later for hurting her feelings but as of now he was in no position of making any sort physical contact with her. “Won’t you be eating ?” she asked, attempting to diffuse the tension. “I don’t eat before patrol,” he replied, his response came out colder than he had intended it to be. “It’s best to patrol on an empty stomach because it’s not exactly pleasant.”

“Oh.” Her brows furrowed slightly at his icy response, but she nodded, accepting his explanation. His words hung in the air, thick with an unspoken tension. Y/N bit her lip, her gaze flickering between him and the plate of pasta. Feeling a pang of guilt, he tried to ease the atmosphere, though his attempt felt feeble. "But maybe I'll grab something later," he added, a touch of forced warmth in his tone.

“This is really good, you know. You should tell me the recipe sometime,” she suggested. "Nah, I can whip it up for you whenever you want," he replied nonchalantly. Y/N blinked in surprise. "No, I couldn't possibly—"

"Yes, you can," he insisted, pointing at her necklace. It had been over two months since she started wearing it, and thankfully, she hadn't needed to use its emergency SOS feature. Her thumb traced the disk-shaped pendant of the necklace. “Whatcha smiling about ?” Jason asked. “No nothing,”she replied, shaking her head. Not believing her, Jason tilted his head and urged her to continue. “Fine. So, in this K-drama I watched a while back, the female lead had a powerful mythical creature protecting her like sort of a guardian angel, and she could summon him whenever she lit a match. It just reminded me of that.”

“What creature ?” He asked with intrigue. Jason had always been more inclined to reading rather than watching in nature so he didn’t really have much experience with k-dramas but seeing how interested she was, he was more than willing to give it a go.

“A goblin.”she answered taking another bite of the pasta. “I’m not sure how I ought to take that —” Y/N’s eyes widened in realisation because she knew that goblins in western media were depicted as short ugly green monsters with horrible attitudes. “Oh no no ! Not like the DND ones. Korean ones ! He was really hot,” she clarified frantically. Jason chuckled,“Well then I guess I’ll humbly accept the compliment.”

"Maybe we could watch the show together next time we hang out you know," she suggested shyly, not wanting to appear too upfront with her invitation. A small smile played onto Jason’s lips, every single romance novel he had ever read had prepared him for this moment. He had often wondered what it would feel like to experience such a situation. Sure, they had watched random shows like ‘The real housewives of Beverly Hills’ and ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ before, but this invitation felt different, more deliberate. She specifically asked for this. This wasn’t just ‘got nothing to do so let’s just turn on the tv’ kinda hangout, this was special. Jason's heart skipped a beat as he considered her invitation. The subtle nervousness in her voice only added to the charm of the moment. It was as if the universe had conspired to create this perfect opportunity for them to connect on a deeper level.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he replied, his voice betraying a touch of eagerness despite his attempt to appear casual. Deep down, he knew that this was a significant step in their relationship. “But it’ll have to wait. I’m leaving Gotham,” he added with a sad sigh, remembering the reason he had come to see her in the first place.

“What? Why?” His sudden announcement caught Y/N off guard. Did something bad happen ? “Sorry angel, it’s confidential,” he replied briskly. It was in her best interest to keep her as uninvolved in his world as possible, knowing the risks involved in pursuing a relationship with a civilian.

As they sat in uneasy silence, Jason couldn't shake the weight of his own discomfort. He knew he had been too harsh with his response, but the walls he had built around himself were hard to break down, even with someone as kind-hearted as Y/N. Despite his efforts to appear unaffected, he couldn't ignore the concern in her eyes.

Y/N’s mind raced with questions, but she could sense Jason’s reluctance to divulge further. She bit her lip, grappling with a mix of concern and frustration.

“Red did something happen ?” she implored, her voice tinged with worry. “Is it something dangerous? Are you in trouble?”

Jason met her gaze, her expression a mixture of worry and sadness. He hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in her and his commitment to keeping her safe. “It’s just a mission. I’m sorry I can’t tell you much,” he admitted, feeling a sense of regret. “But trust me, it’s better this way. I don’t want you getting mixed up in my business.” Of course it made sense. He didn’t owe her an explanation, knowing there were lines she shouldn’t cross was one of them. This was a world of vigilantes and villains and as a civilian she couldn’t possibly fathom the complexities of his profession.

Y/N reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft but resolute.“You’ll be back right ?”

“Wouldn’t have given you that necklace if I wasn’t going around for my angel. It might take a couple months, maybe three or four. I don’t know. But I’ll be back.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly and continued,“ And still if you get into trouble, you can still use that necklace. I called in a favour from nightwing and orphan.”

“So what did you ask them to exactly ? They get an alert and they’re to drop everything they’re doing and come save me ?” Y/N asked jokingly.

“Well yeah. You get hurt while I’m gone and they’ll end up as fish food in the Gotham Harbour. Y’know they're like my insurance policy for you," he added. "But hopefully, you won't need to cash it in. Just stay safe and out of trouble until I get back."

Y/N nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. "I'll do my best. But you know all that aside, cooking a girl dinner and introducing her to your family, and here I thought we were taking it slow.” Jason paused, caught off guard by her comment. Was that how it appeared ? Her playful expression suggested she was merely teasing him, but what if she was genuinely reciprocating flirtation ?

“You’re a really cruel woman you know angel.”Y/N leaned forward on the table and folded her arms infront of her subconsciously pushing her breasts forward, a coy pout forming on her lips ,“Why do you say that ?” She was fully aware of her effect on him, wasn’t she ?

Jason chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and admiration,“No need to worry your pretty head with that.” With a quick flick of his finger, he lightly tapped her forehead, a playful retaliation for her teasing. She let out a surprised yelp, rubbing her forehead in mock indignation.

“I should get going before Starfire and Arsenal lose their shit thinking I’ve gone MIA. Again.” He said, rising to his feet and straightening his jacket. Y/N too got up and kept the dishes in the sink. Jason turned to leave from the fire exit but he felt Y/N hold his jacket. “Be careful out there Red.” She smiled softly at him and Jason could feel his heart melt into a puddle. “Can’t promise but I will try.” His words came out with softness he didn’t know he possessed, he squeezed her hand gently before reluctantly letting go. With one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the fire exit.

Outside, Jason took a deep breath, the cool night air soothing his nerves. He glanced around, making sure the coast was clear before slipping into the shadows. As he moved through the darkness, he couldn't help but replay their interaction in his mind. Her soft smile, the way she held onto his jacket, and the genuine concern in her voice lingered in his thoughts.

Pushing aside his thoughts, Jason focused on the task at hand. He moved swiftly through the alleyways, his senses alert for any signs of trouble. The city whispered its secrets to him, a constant reminder of the darkness that threatened to consume it. The weight of his responsibilities as Red Hood pressed upon him, reminding him of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Gotham City.

Yet, in that fleeting moment with Y/N, he felt a sense of peace that he hadn't known in a very long time.

A/n: Jason Todd live reaction

Ngl I was in a very silly goofy mood when I wrote this.

Tags : @thisisafish123 @ceramic-raven @millyhelp @blamedbisexual @trunkswithlonghair-blog @jasontoddthings @deans-spinster-witch @12134z03

#batfam #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood x you #jason todd x y/n #yandere jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #dc #dc smut #dc comics x reader #dc x reader #batman #batboys #dc fluff #red hood fluff #jason todd fluff #red hood smut #jason todd smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lost 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

When your shift ends, you leave the shop, heading down the same way you came. You stop at the corner of Mason and think better of going that route. You take that man’s advice and go along Doxtator instead. It’s quieter, there aren’t as many businesses so not as many people loitering and tossing cigarette butts.

You come up to the shared house and enter through the side door as usual. You wouldn’t call it routine yet, you haven’t been there long enough, but a ripple of deja vu comes over you. You keep your head down as you enter the kitchen. As you do, there’s another person in there.

You don’t know if you should say hello. You haven’t seen this man before. He must be one of the others. He pulls a box of rice crackers out of the cupboard and ignores your presence. You follow his lead and don’t say a word as you set your bag on the counter and pull out the drawer. You write your name on the few items you got from the store before you left; a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and some packets of ramen.

You put it all away as the other resident traipses off down the hallway, shuffling footsteps reverberating off the shabby walls. You shut the fridge as you hear the outside door open and shut. As you turn, the other man enters; the big one with the shaggy hair. S as you think of him.

He nods at you as you fold up the paper bag and shove it in the bin. He goes to the cupboard and opens the door. He sighs and takes out the same box of crackers as the last man. He shakes it and tuts. You see then the S marked on the side.

You leave, not wanting to get involved. You feel bad that someone else took his food but you also don’t need the drama. You hate conflict. At least now, you know to watch your things. Maybe later you’ll sneak out and retrieve your ramen so you can preserve a few meals.

You’re not very hungry. Your appetite is sparse these days. Maybe it’s this place. You can’t quite settle in, maybe because you hope it’s only temporary. Yet, you can’t say if that’s because you’re holding onto hope that by some miracle you could go back to your former life or that you might even forge a new one.

You lock the door and turn on the standing lamp. You fold your coat over the metal frame of the bed and sit to untie your shoes and peel off your socks. You change into a loose pair of sweatpants and a plain tea with a Pepsi logo on it. Not your clothes, another set of charity tatters.

You lay down and stare at the wall. You used to have a television in your room. You’d watch the old sitcoms they replayed on the public access channel. Or you’d listen to music and knit something. You had at least a dozen scarves more than you needed. You might be able to afford some needles and yarn after your first pay.

The cone of light casts a low haze through the tight space. Your eyes slowly close as thoughts of shutting off the lamp fade into your subconscious. You’re asleep before you can feel yourself drift off.

🚪

You wake to a strange sound. Your eyes flick open to the yellow lamplight as you lay stiffly on your back. You groan as your cramped muscles tug. You stretch and the bed frame creaks with your movement.

The scratching continues. You’re not surprised. You would expect mice in a place like this. There were some at the shelter too. They mostly left you alone, just skittered by as they searched out crumbs.

It gets louder as you sit up, tilting your head as you try to loosen the knot between your shoulders. You stand slowly, daunted by the pang across your hips. The mattress is thin and you can feel the frame on the other side.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” the voice startles you as it slips beneath the door. You stop your arm midreach as you go to click off the lamp. You peek over and see the shadow shift under the door. “Sweetie? I can see your light’s still on, why don’t you open the door?”

You don’t know the voice. It’s pitchy and uneven. The sickening tune behind it makes your stomach wrench. You stay far from the door as the handle jiggles, the deadbolt keeping it from opening.

“Sweetie. I just wanna talk. You don’t have to open the door. Just talk to me…”

You hug yourself and gulp. There were men in the shelter who tried to talk to you, the ones who got too close, who would stand over you while you slept. You were lucky they went away when they were caught.

There’s another shift and the floorboards groan. You hear an odd scuff and see something slide beneath the door slowly. Little by little. It’s a hand mirror, just thin enough to fit. Oh my god.

“Sweetie, I wanna know your na–”

The click of a mechanism and the grind of hinges interrupt your unwanted visitor. The mirror stills and the floor creaks again. You chew your lip as you listen with bated breath.

“Oh, hi,” the same voice greets someone.

“Go,” the deep voice orders gruffly.

“You can’t make me–”

“What are you doing out here?” The other man asks. You recognise S’s timbre.

“N-nothing. I live here too. I can be in the halls,” the strange man responds.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wasn’t making noise.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps follow, getting closer, and you hear the squeaky voice utter a ‘no’ as the mirror wiggles slightly then is kicked further inside, scuttling over the floor.

“What the hell?” S growls, “you leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t bothering her–”

“I know what you were doing. I know who you are. What you are. So go before I crush you like the worm you are,” S’s words make even you shrink in fear.

“Ha, you think you deserve her. Because you look like you do,” the other man accuses, “you don’t scare me.”

“I don’t care if I scare you, I’ll break you in half if I see you at her door again,” S sneers and there’s a thump on the door, followed by an ‘oomph’. “Got it?”

“Got… it,” the breathy hiss chokes out, “let me go.”

A sudden scramble of footsteps, as if thrown off balance, clatter across the floor. They continue, quicker and quicker until you can’t hear them. You hear a sniff, then a sigh. A shadow appears at the bottom of the door.

“Hope you’re okay in there,” S says, “I’ll keep an ear out for that creep.” He pauses as if waiting for an answer but you can’t find one past the hammer of your heartbeat, “have a good night.”

The floor groans with his weight as he retreats and his door gently clasps. You can’t move. You lean into the wall and let your legs fold as you slide down onto your bottom. You’ll leave the light on for tonight. You don’t think you can face the dark.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve #drabble #series #the lost #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

[monstersandmaw]

The impact of reblogging...

Just in case you’re new, or don’t really understand how this entire site functions (and it’s completely different from other social media apps, at least for now*), or if you wanted an illustration of why it’s so important to reblog the posts you enjoy and the hard work of creators you want to support, here’s a visualisation of the impact and reach of reblogging, using my biggest post (part one of my writing masterlist).

Creators are losing the will to post and share in droves because engagement is becoming next to non-existent, and if you don’t reblog the things you enjoy for free, creators wonder why they even bother, and soon they’ll just... stop.

(Look at that reblog to like ratio too... oof)

My little blog is at the centre of that dense circle, and every point in the image represents a reblog.

Of the people who reblogged the original post, most of them did so directly from me, but you can see scattered groups of reblogs which came from people who reblogged it from those who did so from me. And so on and so on, out into the ecosystem.

If you came across my masterlist in the wild, and didn’t or don’t follow me, you only saw it because someone reblogged it.

Most of the things you see on your dash are only there because someone you follow reblogged it.

It’s how this whole ecosystem works, and you’re smothering and killing it if you don’t reblog the ‘content’ you ‘consume’ (I dislike using those terms, but it is what it is).

To clarify, no one is saying you should feel obliged to reblog everything you come across, or that everything an artist or creator puts out there ‘deserves’ to be reblogged, but for pity’s sake, reblog the things you do actively enjoy.

Leaving a like or a comment on the post is like giving a compliment directly to the creator, and it’s wonderful, but it doesn’t show that post to anyone else or boost its presence on the platform. It can also give the impression you didn’t like it ‘enough’ or it wasn’t ‘good enough’ to bother putting on your blog or reblogging. How you really show your appreciation for something you genuinely enjoyed is by reblogging. (Even better if you screech away in the tags about why you liked it, but that’s an optional extra!) It’s like giving a meaningful and impactful tip, except it’s completely free, and it only costs you the time it takes to click or tap.

I hope that clears things up, and is a useful illustration of the impact you’ve had on creators’ pages by reblogging their work, so a huge thank you to those who represent points on that chart, and those of other creators on here! It’s because of people like you that work of people like me gets seen and enjoyed by more people!!

*(I know Tumblr is trying to change things so that you see other things now, instead of only the people you follow, but you can and should turn that feature off).

#tumblr #how to use tumblr #how tumblr works #reblogging #support artists #support creators #non monster post

[bwabys-scenarios]

I’ve been thinking about moving to AO3 recently. I have seen a lot of my author friends get tired of blatant disrespect and entitlement from readers, along with their works being copied/posted to other platforms without consent.

This is a warning. If you want writers and artists to stay on tumblr, then don’t contribute to the reasons we want to leave. Be better, be the reason we want to stay.

Reblog the posts you love, post nice comments(even if it’s just a few emojis), and always be respectful, because there’s a person behind the screen. We aren’t machines that can endlessly pump out new content for you to consume, we’re people.

Start treating artists and writers like people, or soon we won’t want to share our work publicly anymore.

#fanfiction writers #writers on tumblr #queer writers #ao3 writer #bunni rambles #fanfiction community #fanfiction writer #fanfiction is supposed to be fun #writeblr #writerscommunity #fandom #fandom etiquette #fanfic writing #fanfic writer

[souridealist]

the thing about “oh, likes are useless, they don’t do anything” is -- yes, they do? They tell you that someone saw the thing you posted and wished to convey to you their enjoyment or approval. Why is that valueless to you? “Well but likes don’t boost visibility and reblogging does” but visibility is just... people seeing your work and possibly enjoying it. If someone reblogs the post, other people may see it and like it -- but likes are useless! it doesn’t matter if those people enjoyed it, unless they reblog it so their followers can see it, but those followers’ pleasure is also useless and they need to pass it on and where does it end? Is there some minimum number of degrees of separation before it starts to matter that someone liked a thing you made? Is the purpose just to be passed on and passed on and passed on with no end in sight? What are we after here?

This is particularly baffling to me when it’s like, “oh kids are coming from Twitter and TikTok and only liking posts and it’s going to RUIN THE SITE and Tumblr will become EMPTY OF CONTENT” -- okay but. why. you’re still getting more attention and notes -- more people are letting you know that they enjoyed your work -- than if these people didn’t make blogs at all and nothing changed. you’re coming out ahead. why are we comparing everything to what you MIGHT have gotten if people were The Ideal Consumer instead of the actual people they are? why is every reality measured against the theoretical maximum? are you really going to stop drawing or writing or photographing or composing or playing music because the response to it increased but not as much as it might have?

Like. I do get it. It’s discouraging to work on something and get crickets chirping in response! It really is! You want people to like what you make! And I’ve been lucky enough to have a few things that I worked hard on happen to catch a zeitgeist and get a lot of attention by my standards, but by some people’s standards those are still chump change. I’ve also had stories - since then - get a bare pittance of attention, by my standards. And by some people’s standards my pittance is a wealth. And the thing is that that experience really confirmed two things for me - which, admittedly, I’d known intellectually before then but hadn’t really believed in the same way, but they’re still true -

1) it really is about being the right thing in the right place at the right time, as much as luck

2) there is no number of kudos or reblogs or notes or comments or bookmarks or anything that will earn you a Real Adult Good Competent Artist Card that makes you stop feeling insecure. There isn’t. That insecure fearful hollow inside of you is not something you can fill with achievement or attention or praise; it will open up again and again, because the next one might not be as good, because it might be too different, because it might not be different enough, because making art is taking a piece of yourself out of you and putting it into the world for people to see and that’s a fundamentally terrifying leap of faith. You can pour thousands and thousands and thousands of notes or hits or likes or kudos into that hollow and it will just keep draining again and again. The only solution I’ve ever found, the only solution that I’ve ever heard of anyone finding, is a mixture of faith and of learning to work through the fear.

And yeah, no amount of confidence or faith is going to make it stop being a bummer when something flops. It feels bad! You put all that work into something and you want it to be appreciated; you want it to matter! All of that makes sense! But it’s really not going to help you to castigate the people who like your work for not liking it The Right Way. people don’t like being told that their enjoyment is useless. and it’s certainly and emphatically not an attitude that’s going to help you have a good relationship with your work.

[jotun-design-party]

on fandom orientalism, ft. a quick visual example:

the example on the right is something i drew solely using references of the top results i saw on pinterest upon searching "jotun loki." please don’t roast my inconsistent handwriting

south asian cultures are often jumbled together for white artists of all kinds (authors, artists, movie directors) to create a sense of mystery and make things look "more foreign."

note: this doesn't touch on the antiblack racism in canon jötun designs; this post is primarily about fandom-sourced fetishization. i heavily encourage people to reblog and add onto this post anything i may have missed or added nuance

cut: links on orientalism, in-media examples, how this manifests in fandom-made content

i'd like to start off by saying that this post is a white person telling other white people how to spot orientalism in relation to fiction. i am by no means an expert on any of this, but my goal here is to start creating a less ignorant space that doesn't push people out of fandom.

i'm just trying to stir up more conversations about this and get other white people to think more critically about how they engage with the content they consume. nerd shit should never come with a sacrifice and it's extremely upsetting to see people of color consistently forced out of fandom communities, especially when modern superhero comics began as a way for jewish people to have a voice.

if this post upsets you, i don't want to hear it. don't tell me, "it's not that deep," or, "keep politics out of comics." it is that deep, and superhero comics have always been political. if you have the urge to leave a comment or send an anon about how you don't think it's a big deal, feel free to block me instead, because i don't care and you'll just get blocked anyway 👍

with that out of the way,

Q:

A:

there are countless ways to design a character in a way that makes it clear that they are an alien, or to make them sexy, and there is no excuse to perpetuate stereotype that put real-life people in danger to do so.

"Orientalist paintings and other forms of material culture... depict an 'exotic' and therefore racialized, feminized, and often sexualized culture from a distant land." [¹]

there are so many examples of this in loki fic and art. it's extremely common to see loki depicted as a feminine object of desire. they may have longer hair. clothing that serves more as an accessory than an outfit, that isn't suited to protect them from either the harsh cold of jötunheim or the sunburns one might get when surrounded by reflections of the sun off the snow. draped in jewelry, and in a compromising position.

i'm sure you can imagine how this can get especially out of hand in relation to thorki. i would speak more on thor's presence as both the white aesir prince or the strong barbaric jötun, but as i'm not comfortable consuming thorki content, i don't have enough context to speak on the stereotypes used outside of the art pieces i've seen while searching for jötun loki fanart.

i am, however, confident in saying that orientalism often serves as a device for fan creators to show a contrast between Asgard's white-viking-british-accent-magic-science-elegance. jötunheim, in the comics, is often portrayed as a less intelligent, cutthroat, barbaric, and bloodthirsty culture.

"There was always something unknown and uniquely different about Orients which reinforced the distinction between the European 'us' and Asian 'them.'" [²]

the green link in particular comes with a helpful tool for anyone who might be inexperienced in spotting racist themes in media. if you have trouble being confident that the media in question is orientalism, this link comes with a checklist scale to score how likely it is to be an offensive depiction.

an example that most of you will be familiar with is Disney's Aladdin (1992). the green link goes much more in-depth about the intricacies of Aladdin's orientalism, and i heavily HEAVILY encourage you to read it, as it will help fully grasp the way fetishization and demonization go hand in hand in orientalism.

here, i'd also like to use it as a comparison to show why this loki stuff is honestly... egregious.

by now, even the visuals here should seem very familiar.

the source goes on to use arranged marriage as an example of a common "trope" in orientalist fiction. as previously stated, i don't consume thorki fiction. however, i am EXTREMELY confident in making the guess that it tends to be a common theme when jötun loki is paired with an aesir thor.

i'd also heavily recommended this article and this wikipedia page, both on the negative and stereotypical portrayals of romani people; loki is a magic user, and i suspect that one of the reasons there is such heavy use of these appropriated, exaggerated, and fetishized themes and visuals is because of the demonization of romani people as tricksters, thieves, and witches.

#orientalism #racism #fandom culture #jotun loki #jötun loki #marvel #jötun loki contest #jotun design party

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

just a friendly reminder!! this is gonna sound bitchy but I don’t mean it to!!

if you request something from me - please follow me, and interact with it!!

if you ask to be added to a tag list - please follow me, and interact when I post a chapter!!

I think tumblr is becoming a place of passive media consumption, which goes against the very blueprint of it. on this website, you’re supposed to like and comment and reblog and send asks to inboxes. short form social media platforms like tiktok are leading people (especially the younger generation!) to believe that that is how you consume content - that you just watch/read and scroll past. done.

not done!! that’s not how tumblr works. this website works because people interact with each other. there are no views/view counters here like on most other social media. the only way I know you’ve even seen my post is if you like it or comment on it or reblog it or follow me or send me something to my inbox.

I think us ‘older’ people that have been here for a long time understand this very well, but the newer and/or younger people don’t. maybe it’s because tumblr is pretty different to other social media, maybe it’s something else entirely. but you can’t be a passive consumer on this app!! it will die a sad death if you do!!

<3

#look at me ranting in the middle of the night #seriously though #your favourite writers will stop writing if they don’t feel like they’re getting any response/gratification at all #it’s hard out here on the best of days #make it a little easier for us

[kingkatsuki]

you are a whole ass weirdo for blocking people out of nowhere for not REBLOGGING your stuff 😭😭😭 you are one of the most popular blogs in the whole mha fandom, you gotta be kidding you don't even lack the reach or the platform, i didn't peg you for being this interaction hungry

Hihihi! You’re clearly very upset that I’ve blocked you for not supporting content creators by reblogging their fics. I’m really sorry that you won’t be able to be a silent follower anymore, but maybe you can check out my ao3 instead if you just want to silently consume content without clicking any buttons.

The reason why I block people who don’t reblog fanfics (as I’ve mentioned a million times before it doesn’t have to be my fanfics, doesn’t even have to be bnha fandom) is because you bring absolutely nothing to fandom or the fandom community. There’s no point you following me, so I just block you to make myself more comfortable.

The people I’ve blocked for being blank blogs or not reblogging content that have messaged me have all been unblocked after supporting writers/artists. And honestly most of them have never reblogged any of my fics, and I’m okay with that… because they’re supporting someone.

There’s gotta be someone on this website that you hold above all else, that whenever they post they put a smile on your face? That bring you comfort when you’re having a bad day? That you actively look at their page first, like a morning newspaper or you think of randomly throughout the day like “oh, this was in ____’s fic,” … you don’t even want to support your most favourite author/artist?

It’s nothing to do with my “reach” or my “platform”. I’m a nerdy woman who reads and writes fanfic in my spare time, not David Attenborough. But regardless of whether I have 1 follower or 100,000 followers I, like every other creator that posts their stuff online (musicians, artists, writers, even fucking tiktokers) want feedback on my work! Even if it’s just an empty reblog or a quick comment “that was great” “good job” it means so much more than a like on a fic.

We’ve spoken about this before on tumblr but the like to reblog ratios on fanfics (and other content) is laughable. A fic with 5000 notes might only have 200 reblogs and 5 comments, and the lack of feedback will result in the creator wondering if it was even worth posting, if it’s even worth them posting again.

This is the reason why people stop creating, and it’s not just in the fanfic community. What do you think happens when your favourite musicians music flops, or your favourite TV show doesn’t bring in the ratings? People stop making, they stop producing. It’s the same shit with fanfics.

The fanfiction that you’re so mindlessly consuming takes time and effort. There’s a real person behind the screen gifting you their piece of art for free, and you don’t have time to click a button?

I’ve said it before, and I’ll continue to say it. I’m incredibly lucky I have the friends and followers that I do on this website, people that comment on my fics and reblog with the loveliest tags. Even the ones that are too shy to interact with me, I see your usernames in my notifs whenever you reblog something. But I know a lot of friends and followers do not get that same luxury, there are writers who pour their heart and soul into writing on here and get no likes, no reblogs and no comments. But people like you are reading and enjoying their fics.

How many times have you wished you got a part two to a fic? Or a new fic from an author who stopped writing? I know for people like you it’s easy to click out and just find something else to read, but I’ve lost some of my favourite authors on here because people like you won’t even click a button.

I deserve interaction, all the other creators on here deserve interaction.

TL;DR — You’re selfish, and I don’t want you following me💕

#me ranting soz babes xxx #jo talks

[copperbadge]

Current Events Reading Reccs

I had a couple of people asking me about my “current events” reading in general (news aggregators, podcasts, etc) so I figured I’d just list them off here. 

I don’t read any tumblrs that are specifically focused on current events, I just kinda get news from various people I’ve followed, but I’ve found in general it helps to find people for whom the news is a hobby, not a consuming habit. I have communists and anarchists and prison abolitionists on my dash, but they aren’t people who have made that their identity, which removes the “You are insufferable” factor. So I guess find fandom weirdos with strong political views and follow ‘em. 

Also I want to state at the top that part of why I’m on top of shit that I get through Tumblr is that I have a policy of never reblogging or reacting to anything until I have 1. read the article being linked and 2. done my own research. This has saved me a vast deal of embarrassment, because sometimes I’ll save something outrageous to research and before I can even research it, it’s been rebutted. I cannot stress how important the process of reading and research is -- you can’t get your news from headlines and particularly not clickbait you see on Tumblr. 

As far as I know there’s no single tumblr clearinghouse for good high-level current events reporting and analysis (the analysis I think is a vital part) but if folks have resources they use, drop ‘em in the comments or reblogs.  

Anyway, some mailing lists I belong to are:

Quartz Daily Brief: finance and tech, mainly. Back when they were for-pay I paid for them, this newsletter was that entertaining. I believe they’ve now gone fee-free but they sometimes link to paywalls. I get it as an email newsletter, that’s just a link to the web version. 

Breakfast with ARTNews: Obviously a bit niche but I really like keeping up with the art world and they cover art crime too. The link is to the all-newsletters signup page, I only belong to Breakfast. 

The Futurist: This is the most insufferable nonsense masquerading as news ever. The ads are indistinguishable from the content. But it does help me keep a finger hard on the pulse of what irritating tech bros are into. Watch scams unfold in real time! 

I also follow a number of local interests -- community centers and neighborhood organizations primarily -- in Chicago, so those are always good to hunt up. Most major cities have a “citycast” podcast (just search “citycast [your city]” in your podcatcher) that is also good for local news.  

Some websites:

Longreads: Since longform.org went under, the best place to find the current longform pieces that everyone’s talking about.  

Brand Eating: Extremely niche, but I really love reading about “brand” food trends. It covers new food releases and sales and such in the areas of packaged food (potato chips, candy, etc), fast food, and casual dining. It’s also great as a resource for cheap eats. 

I stopped reading Bon Appetit recently (they ran this appallingly sympathetic story about a dickhead hiring manager) but like, honestly, if you want to track food trends, the BA email newsletter is kinda the way to go. If you’d like good food news in podcast form, I recommend The Sporkful (it’s in the podcast list). 

I used to read the Chicago Tribune, New York Times, and Fortune Magazine (which mostly scraped the not-awful stuff from Forbes) but I’ve cut it down to just the Trib; I don’t really need Fortune to keep me current and the NYT has morphed into a creepy proto-fash nightmare. The Trib has pretty good national/international coverage so if you don’t have a decent local paper it’s not bad, but I don’t know how much access you get as a nonpaying reader (I subscribe). 

Podcasts:

Quartz has a podcast, Quartz Obsession, which is off-and-on in terms of when episodes come out but very interesting when they do. 

Planet Money is a once-weekly podcast about economics, and has a daily show called “The Indicator” which is daily “small bites” current events coverage. 

The Late Show and the Daily Show both have an “ears edition” podcast that’s just the show audio; I’ve stopped listening for the most part but if you want good cultural commentary, that’s the place to go. 

The Journal by the Wall Street Journal is a weekly podcast focusing on one or two news stories, generally pretty relevant. 

Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me is a panel show but it’s a fun way to get bite-sized news you can look up later in more detail if you want. And it’s taped in Chicago! If you listen you can hear me in the audience laughing. :D (I’m going to another taping in a few weeks!) 

Behind The Bastards is actually a history podcast but if you’re listening current he does a bit of current-events commentary, and also I just really like it as a podcast.

Stuff You Should Know is a trivia podcast but they occasionally do current-events stuff.

The Sporkful is pretty good about current food news, although I run hot and cold on it.

I used to listen to a really good “professional” medical podcast, but it went full paywall when it started to offer certain forms of professional credit, so I found The House Of Pod as a very good free replacement. It’s not really for non-doctors, but as a non-doctor I still find it accessible and informative. (For medical history and curiosity, I do highly recommend Bedside Rounds, but I wouldn’t call it a current events cast.) 

So that’s how I get my news -- it’s not what I would call fully comprehensive but it’s reasonably informative! 

#bread-tab #auressea #tigerist #current events

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Wrong One 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Raymond Smith

Summary: You get caught up in the double lives of your employers.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The men leave you as the last of the sedation wears off. You languish as the worst possibilities swim through your head. You don’t know what’s going on but you know they’re dangerous. This is the sort of mix-up you can’t just laugh off. It’s not like you got the wrong drink at the cafe, this is very, very real.

You curl your fingers, only halfway as the numbness creeps up each digit. You shift in the chair, your tailbone aching from the barely cushioned seat. Your knees are no better your bound ankles keep them at an awkward bend.

You lean your head back and groan. Your efforts to breathe out the shadow of panic only sparks it. You feel a sudden surge of terror. You’re going to die here. All because those men made the wrong choice.

No! What did they even want with Mrs. Malfort? How on earth could she be mixed up with the likes of them? She’s tall and pretty and sophisticated. Her hair is always just so and her outfits are always carefully coordinated. Her and her husband are the very picture of upper class. These men are criminals at best.

You sit up sharply, the chair rocking. You lean forward, pulling against it. The frame creaks. Could you…

You push back again and swing forward. This is stupid. What are you doing? Even if you can get yourself free of the duct tape, you doubt you’ll get past these walls.

You rock again. You’re not thinking, your adrenaline is drowning out any sense. Back, front, back front. The chair falls backwards and you curl your chin down to keep from smashing your head. Great, the chair is still intact and you’re just on the floor.

You whine and let your head loll to the side. This is absurd. You really can’t accept that it’s real. Your luck can’t be that bad.

Click, the door opens. You whimper as the chair crushes your hands. Suddenly, the world tilts back to normal as the chair is pulled up. 

It’s him, the leader. You know him by his blue eyes. He backs up and crosses his arm as he stares at you, his mask barely concealing his agitation. You give a sheepish cringe.

“What do I do with you?” He asks.

You try to shrug but can’t. You suck in air and shake.

“Let me go? I won’t say anything–”

He puts a hand up and you snap your mouth shut. You don’t need him to tell you to be quiet. You’re too terrified.

“Rhetorical,” he growls. “You might not intend on saying anything but there are people who will find a way to make you.” He turns and paces to one side, then the other, then faces you again. “They will know…”

You nod and flick your lashes as your eyes burn. That means there’s only one option. You’ve seen the movies. You’re not dumb but you are fucking scared as shit.

You close your eyes and brace yourself. You sit like that, cheeks taut, mouth drawn. You can at least die with dignity. His tread scuffs and he sniffs.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

You open one eye, “hm? Oh, I’m getting ready.”

“For?” He reaches up to rub his chin through the mask.

“Death.”

He’s quiet as he cups his jaw. He clucks and exhales through his nose. He drops his arms straight and shifts his weight to one foot.

He reaches behind himself and wiggles something free from his belt. He brings the gun around and checks the chamber. You close your eyes again and squeak. You’ve never seen one up close. Your blood is ice. Your teeth chatter as you hide behind your eyelids.

Really? Isn’t your life supposed to flash before your eyes? All you see is black.

You wait. It’s coming, it’s coming, it’s coming–

He sighs and you hear a metallic click. You wait until you can wait no longer. You open your eyes, peeking through your lashes. He pushes his head back in exasperation. “Fuck.”

“Come on, dude, this is torture. I can’t wait any longer. I got a nervous stom–” you hold back a wretch, “a nervous tummy.” You gulp back again, “I don’t wanna die with puke in my mouth.”

“Shut up!” He waves his hand angrily, “shut up.”

You seal your lips, if only to stave off the swell of nausea. It’s getting worse. Now that it’s really sinking in. The end. Oh no, no, no!

“I’m gonna barf.”

“What?”

“It’s happening.”

“Don’t–”

“I can’t–” You hold your breath, spasming as you fight the vomit bubbling in your stomach.

“Stop it,” he demands.

You nod and groan, bending your head forward as your insides clench. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he stomps across the room and grabs a plastic bag. He approaches you and holds it open. “In here. Not on the carpet.”

You lean as far forward as you can and hurl. You wretch until you have nothing left, acid searing your throat as the bagel you ate for breakfast floats in chewed chunks amidst the bile. You sit back and heave.

“Thanks,” you let the tension leave your shoulders.

“Ugh-gh-gh,” he shudders as he closes the bag, “that’s… that’s gross.”

He holds it with one hand, away from his body.

“Tastes pretty bad,” you grimace.

He shoots you a mean look and you wince. He twists the bag and ties it in a knot. He turns cautiously, as if it might break, and strides to the door. It opens and slams behind him.

You didn’t think things could get worse but the taste of puke definitely isn’t better.

#raymond smith #dark raymond smith #dark!raymond smith #raymond smith x reader #the wrong one #drabble #series #the gentlemen

[pa-pa-plasma]

bro you are on the FANDOM WEBSITE why are you NOT supporting your fandom creators????? do you WANT us to stop??? do you want there to be no more art & fic?? because that’s what happens when you don’t reblog our stuff. this isn’t a threat, this is a reality. if there is no one here wanting to see our stuff we won’t post it. I’m not trying to guilt trip here, none of us are, we’re literally just saying that if there is no motivation to spend 10+ hours making fanart or 5 years writing a multichapter fic for free then we won’t fucking do it

^this shit? ridiculous. I LOVE EVERYONE WHO REBLOGGED & INTERACTED WITH MY ART! I LOVE EVERYONE WHO ASKED QUESTIONS & COMMENTED!! but so many of these people just liked it & left. this has been getting worse over the years, too. the reblogs to likes ratio has been getting crazier. I create because I love it, but if I have no reason to post, I won’t. fandoms dry up because of this. creators quit because of this.

we just need to stop acting like this is instagram, or that anyone cares what your blog looks like. people don’t see your likes, they see your reblogs. you want that favourite content creator to post more art? you want that writer to post the next chapter of your fav fic?? reblog it. share it. show them you care, because otherwise they won’t. this is a hobby we do for free. you consume our stuff for free. you aren’t entitled to it, so please just reblog, it isn’t hard.

#we aren't asking for money we're asking for you to hit a button #stop being a little bitch #this is tumblr. no one gives a shit about your ''aesthetic'' or whatever #no one even looks at who reblogs what on here #i'm sick of seeing people not sharing works out of spite & acting like wanting attention for our labour is bad #I SPEND 15 HOURS DRAWING YOU BETTER FUCKING REBLOG IT. I'M POSTING IT SO I CAN FEEL BETTER #AFTER SPENDING 15 HOURS HUNCHED IN A SHITTY CHAIR WITH MY WRIST ALL FUCKED UP & MY LAPTOP TRYING TO KILL ITSELF & ME #im not asking to be PAID im asking for you to share artist's & writers' works. we are 99% of the fandom's content #you want more content? fucking motivate us to make it. you are getting it for free. stop being an asshole & fucking reblog it #i'm so fucking tired of people with their cold ass takes #if i EVER like anyone's art & don't reblog it THAT WAS A MISTAKE. I MEANT TO REBLOG BUT TUMBLR GLITCHED OR I RAN OUT OF REBLOGS #i KNOW how hard it is to spend hours days YEARS on something & for no one to care #i am literally just asking for everyone to have some sympathy #like imagine if your employer started complaining about how selfish it is you work for free? that's this #you'd quit that job #YOU CAN'T COME TO THE FANDOM WEBSITE & COMPLAIN THAT FANDOM CREATORS WANT ATTENTION FOR THEIR WORK #EVERYONE WANTS ATTENTION YOU STUPID MANTHING IT CAME FREE WITH YOUR FUCKING HUMAN BRAIN

[sprout-fics]

First and foremost, I’d like to thank you for all the work you put into all your pieces, especially omegaverse. It’s actually inspired me to want to write my own AU, but as someone who’s never really written fic before, I’m nervous. It all seems so insurmountable, if you have any advice? Thank you.

Hi anon, thank you so much for your lovely ask! I’m so glad you’re enjoying my story, and it’s an honor to inspire you. I have more writing advice than I can manage, but lemme it narrow it down to your particular question.

Write the stories you want to write, and the stories you want to read. This is the most important thing. Writing for an audience and chasing trends is a losing game. If you try to do what everyone else is doing, you’ll find yourself drifting from what you want to do. In the end, you should be writing for yourself first and foremost, and sharing the things you are proud of.

Find a style that is comfortable to you. It’s great to look up to other authors and emulate the things you enjoy in their styles, but it’s more important to find a style you don’t have to constantly tailor, because it will only give you an undue amount of stress.

Remember that posting your stories is a gift, not an obligation. It is perfectly ok to keep your stories to yourself if that’s what you are comfortable with. Those who will demand updates and offer unsolicited constructive criticism are reading as a privilege you offer, not a service.

Find people to talk to about your stories. Mutuals, friends, followers/readers, it helps so much to have a rubber duck/sounding board for ideas. Half the time I’m stuck on something I bring it to a friend and the knot unwinds itself.

Don’t worry about activity/follower count. If you find yourself constantly refreshing for reblogs/comments, take some time away from your screen and go do something else. The people who enjoy will come, fear not. 

Establish your boundaries. This can be things you refuse to write, people you don’t want to engage with, turning off anon, or limiting the privacy of your stories. Do what you need to in order to feel comfortable in your craft. 

Similarly, don’t forget to properly tag your stories. There will be people who will not want to read your stories, and that’s ok!! You don’t want to read every story either. However, if folks ever decide to complain, you can simply point to the tags and tell them they should pay better attention to the warnings of the content they consume.

Know when to take a break. It’s important to know what burnout or writer’s block looks like for you, and when to step back. 

Find inspiration. This can be movies, shows, other fanfic, books, music, etc. Find things that keep you writing

Most of all, have fun!! If you aren’t having fun writing, then what’s the point? Do what you have to in order to make this a fun experience. Remember cringe is dead. Be as indulgent as you want. This is your own little daydream realm, don’t let others ruin it for you. 

I hope this advice helps, anon. I have much more regarding writing resources/tools/things I use in my own writing style, but that’s for a different post. In the meantime, please have fun writing your first fanfic!

#writing advice #writing tips #writer tips

[pandoraslxna]

the other anon has a bit of a point if I'm being honest, content creators create of their own volition and we don't own you anything. they may have come off a bit rude but I think what they were trying to say was if you really enjoyed writing you wouldn't care about reblogs because it's honestly just for your own self satisfaction knowing more people will read your work and not just your own followers, not everyone has the energy to go and reblog every piece you write. just be appreciative of the interactions you do have because I've seen writers with worse, my blog is a fic one and I don't get HALF the interactions you do so at the very least be considerate of small blogs who actually struggle. I'm just glad there's other people that agree like that anon.

Honestly? Yes it’s for my own self satisfaction. Because I’ve spent hours and days working on something and I want to know if people enjoyed it, I want to read all their comments and see all their silly little tags and interact with them about something that I have created. Yes, people reblogging and commenting on my fics make me feel good about myself and it makes me proud of what I have created. And most importantly, it motivates me to keep going. I love writing, but if nobody enjoys what I do, I might as well stop posting and keep all my works to myself. So yes, I do care about reblogs and I’m not ashamed to admit that.

What’s so bad about asking to show us authors some love for the things we do? You enjoyed it? -Let us know! Is it really that hard?

"Not everyone has the energy to reblog" … pls be so fr, it literally takes about 1 second and you only have to lift a finger

There‘s no excuse not to reblog and support others for their work. No, you don’t own us anything but as long as you consume our work, the least you could do is reblog to help us reach other people that might be interested in our stuff too.

And I’m not even talking about myself only, I’m talking about all the other authors too! You’re telling me about smaller blogs struggling, but if everyone would support their works, they wouldn’t struggle ??

#ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ asks 💌