#like the constant doubt i have about the nice shit people say about me

[modernday-orpheus]

Okay, hear me out. If Tim idolized Batman instead of Robin, Bruce would be dead.

Disclaimer: I am not perfect and don't know everything there is to know about comics! Some shit here may be accidentally based on fanon rather than canon! Please be nice!

Tim, of course, respects and looks up to Batman. Bruce is his mentor and his father, so it's safe to assume he loves him as well. But his Hero™ is and always has been Robin, Dick at first but especially Jason judging by the timeline. Most people in Gotham view Robin as an addendum, an extra, nothing more than a kid sidekick. They’re disappointed if her shows up without Batman, and question his abilities. Tim’s hero worship combined with his knowledge of their identities, in this case, allows him to see things as they truly are. For Tim, Robin is a light in the dark, a balancing act with Batman, not his sidekick but his partner. He’s a necessary part of the Dynamic Duo because while Batman represents Justice, Robin represents this Hope for a better future. Sure, he’s just a kid; by all accounts he shouldn’t even be out there fighting, but maybe, if he is, no other kids won’t have to fight as hard just to survive. He represents the soul of Gotham, underneath the criminality and corruption; a city full of people, tough-as-nails, saying “No, fuck you, this is our city” despite the constant danger. He represents the people who come together in times of crisis, who help out their neighbors when each new disaster strikes. He’s trained in martial arts, of course, and he’s a skilled fighter, but Robin’s primary job is always the safety of civilians. He’s the one that gets scared little kids out of a burning building while Batman keeps the villain of the week busy, the one who stays behind with SA victims walks them home because Batman is too much for those things. He uses fear where Robin uses kindness, compassion, and love.

Tim sees this. So, when Robin dies and Batman is getting rougher, more violent, more careless, he notices. He notices that Bruce is picking bigger fights than he can handle, taking hits he could dodge, breaking four ribs instead of two, barely making it back to the manor each night. If he idolized Bruce, at this point, he would trust him the way the rest of Gotham does. He would assume it was a rough patch, and Bruce would recover, and that Batman would always save the day. He would see a solitary hero, the way Batman wants to be seen. He wouldn’t think it necessary to reach out to Dick for help, and even if he did he would think Nightwing would be enough help. He wouldn’t understand the importance of the Robin mantle, the specific role that needs to be filled. Nightwing can represent a lot of things; fluidity, positive change, and freedom come to mind immediately, but there's no world where Nightwing represents Gotham and Hope the same way Robin does. He can’t serve the same purpose anymore, not in that uniform. Bruce would die at Two-Face’s hands in that very first arc, I have not a single doubt in my mind.

Then, as Tim comes back to Gotham post-training and actually starts to help out, it’s common for him to be the conscience. He falls easily into the role of Robin, the role that makes him protector of the innocent. He’s not like Jason, raised by these streets in a very different way, though I wouldn’t say either is better or worse. Where Jason struggled and had to fight, out there each night pre-Bruce out of necessity rather than choice. He knows all the best hiding spots and back-alleys because it kept him alive. He chooses to be Robin because he needed a hero and wants to be that for other people. Tim chose those streets, and he chose them for Robin. He knows the best hiding spots because they put him closer to the action, because he raised himself on all those cold nights alone on rooftops with his camera. He knows the back-alleys because they made him faster, made it so his little kid legs could keep up with his hero so he wouldn’t miss a moment. He lives for Gotham nights, for the thrill of seeing everything, getting to know everything. He chooses to be Robin because where his parents failed to teach him how to be a good person, Robin stepped up. He bases his morals off of watching Robin help people, and because he’s a kid he assumes that it’s normal to behave with altruistic intentions and prioritize others.

There’s a point to be made here, briefly, about how this lends itself to Tim’s self-worth issues and insecurities. If his job is to assist, supplement, guide, and fill in the blanks when Batman fails, he doesn’t have the option of failure. He expects that how he does his job, as long as the job gets done, doesn’t matter because he doesn’t view himself as the hero. He never views himself as a main character in his own story; he truly thinks he’s doing what anyone else in his position would gladly do. This is why he overworks himself, why he’s known for living, for lack of a better term “like a goddamn ninja turtle”. It’s why he’s always Robin or Red Robin or even his public persona Timothy Drake-Wayne but rarely Just Tim. Very few people get to see Just Tim, normal Tim, because if they’re seeing that then he’s not doing his job.

All of these factors lead to Tim’s conclusion that if no one else can get Batman out of this state, least of all Batman himself, of course the next logical conclusion is that it’s his responsibility to step up and do the job. Furthermore, it’s only because he idolized Robin that he can fill the role properly because his relationship to Bruce, especially in the beginning, is nothing like Dick and Jason’s relationships with Bruce. He’s not his kid, doesn’t bring Robin’s joy and hope home, so instead he has to work twice as hard in the field to keep Bruce away from the edge. He’s the first of the Robins to view himself as Batman’s protector rather than the other way around, and he’s the only one who Bruce acknowledges when he tries to fill that role. Bruce accepts it when Tim manages him, reorganizes his files, forces him into the medbay, even when he very occasionally goes as far as to outright scold him rather than just pressure him to make the right choices. He’s given an inch and takes a mile, because he believes (rightfully, in my opinion) that if he doesn't then all hope is lost. And Bruce allows him to help, to guide, as much as he’s willing to because he’s not his kid first. He’s Robin first.

This mentality carries over to the Red Robin arc, where Tim spends an entire year chasing after Bruce to save him. He does it alone, and although he asks for help he doesn’t actually expect it. Furthermore, because his morals are based off of Robin in his infinite altruism rather than Batman with his rigid rules, he doesn’t mind working with Ra’s al Ghul. He doesn’t mind betraying Ra’s by killing his men, by blowing up his bases. He doesn’t tell Bruce about it to protect Bruce from having another murderer under his roof, and because he doesn’t think it matters enough. Bruce isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to save him. I believe he would have been if any other Robin had shown up. He and Dick have had a strained relationship for years, he and Jason aren’t even on speaking terms, Stephanie was so often full of rage at him throughout her run as Robin and is dead at the time, and he doesn’t even really have a relationship with Damian. Aside from all of that, he’s assumed dead. He can’t assume the Justice League will spend their time saving a dead man. And yet, despite all of that, he isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to pull him out of the time stream. He’s disoriented, sure, and a little surprised it was possible for him to be saved at all, and he even wants to hear about how he figured it out, but his doubt is never placed on the fact that Tim would be the one to understand and tear the world apart to bring him home.

I believe this also helps to explain Tim’s struggle with letting go of the Robin mantle, outside of the fact that he was the first to have the choice to move on taken away from him. If he’s always been Robin first, always felt the weight of that on his shoulders, what is he supposed to do when his very identity is stripped away right as he loses everyone who got to really know him as Just Tim? How is he supposed to cope with having to reconstruct his own idea of who he is with no one around to remind him? Humans are social creatures. We learn and grow with and because of each other. He’s encouraged by Dick to grow quickly out of Robin to fill a new role, which is a nice sentiment from Dick’s own point of view, but he’s lacking a sturdy foundation. Not because it’s not actually there, or because he lacks personality or morals, but because he truly views himself and all of his good decisions as just what anybody would do and what Robin is supposed to do. He doesn’t consider that following these morals makes them his, makes them the building blocks for wherever he goes next, he considers them to be traits of a character he no longer plays; a purpose he no longer serves.

(This is the second time I've posted this, so if you see another version that's why!)

#tim drake #red robin #robin #batman #red hood #dc robin #dc comics #dc batman #dcu #robin dc #Dc #nightwing #Dick grayson #Bruce wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne #damian wayne al ghul #tim drake wayne #character analysis

[pennyserenade]

The Hollywood Hedonist Method

pairing: dieter bravo x you, dieter bravo x reader rating: explicit (oral sex (female receiving), pinv, unprotected sex, light dirty talk (a little degrading), sex in public place (?), soft dom!reader, soft dom!dieter tags: references to drugs, talk of suicide (not serious), a self pitying dieter bravo word count: 2.9k+ summary: dieter's movie is bad and he looks to you for a quick fix to a long problem. a/n: is this the most inspired piece i ever wrote? probably not but i did have a lot of fun writing it. i wouldn't say this is my usual writing style, but i'm trying something new on here and i hope you like it. if you'd like to be updated on when i post my writing, follow my writing updates blog @belovedinfidels

He fingers you on the black marble countertop, his mess of crushed ambitions transformed suddenly into a hardy joie de vivre as you accept his tongue into your mouth. Salacious stories be damned: this is better than any page six bullshit could cover, his strong body settled between your widened legs, his long fingers curled in the warm comforts of your body. He breathes you in, drinks you up. 

Your whiskey soaked tactlessness is divine tonight. It offers a heady respite from the impending dark cloud of his self doubt. He doesn’t even mind that you don’t realize how gloomy this shit makes him. He feels like one of those goddamn characters in Sunset Boulevard, switching between the dead bloodied man floating in the pool of his own ambition, and the frenzied, forgotten actress with the warm gun of delusion in her hands. He hates that he’s miserable over his fucking shitty movie, and he’s so hard it’s embarrassing, and a little confusing, and you’re beginning to squirm and he wonders if maybe his tongue might make you shake and—-

“Dieter!” 

You dig crescent shaped imprints on the pale, freckled skin of his shoulders. His tongue makes you shout–better than he could’ve ever hoped for. It’s the ego boost he needs. Plus, you’re so goddamn wet that it’s coating his chin and he’s only just got on his knees. That’s nice, too. 

He licks up to your swollen clit, tonguing it until you let out delightful little mewls and writhe beneath him. When you close your legs around his head, he lets out a moan. You taste like the closest thing to penitence he’ll ever get. He could eat your pussy all night if you let him. Really. There’s some things he knows for certain, some things even bad fucking movies and a deflating ego can’t rob him of, and his love for this is one of them. The act of spreading a woman apart and eating her like she’s ripe pickings from the Garden of Eden almost drives him to romanticism sometimes. He is sure he could write poetry about this. He bets your pussy’d look so pretty on a canvas. He’s never drawn a pussy from memory, but he’s gonna try it tomorrow and—

“Are you okay?” you rasp, looking down at him with a frown. 

Well, maybe it can rob me of this, he thinks bitterly. 

Your grip turns more forgiving in his hair, your fingers sympathetically pushing his locks back from his face. He comes up, his slick-glistened lips forming into what you suspect is meant to be a reassuring grin. It looks more like a grimace. You run a thumb affectionately over his cheek and he groans, pushing it off with his shoulder. He positions himself back between your legs. When you pull at his hair again, trying to get him to look at you, he winces sharply. 

“Dammit,” he mutters, dark eyes deep wells of glazed frustration. “If I don’t make you cum I’m going to jump out of the window,” he deadpans. 

You’ve always hated the kind of people who make you wonder what’s a joke and what’s not, because it’s a constant commotion of miscommunication. Life becomes a bad joke, a joke that is in constant need of explaining, and you’ve never liked that. Dieter is the sort that seems to be hanging on the edge of I don’t know, the kind who seems to be supplanting real answers for half funny, half serious ones. The uncertainty he posits is a product of the uncertainty he feels - you can tell already - but you’re not exactly enthused to decipher him for the rest of your life. 

You frown. You’d only met him under strobe lights not even two months ago, shouting over the music to get to know one another. He had tasted of stale cigarettes and early morning remorse, and he’d taken you in the women’s bathroom, pressed you against the bathroom stall, and fucked you with bruising intensity. Then he had written his number on the palm of your hand, and kissed you chastely on the mouth after it was all over. There’s no future here. You won’t be deciphering anything. 

“Sit on my face,” he implores. Dieter delivers the sentence like he’s asking you if he can hold your hand. His fingers grip at your thighs and his breath grazes the inside of your legs. When he presses his lips to the side of your cunt, you close your eyes against the sensation. He tongues the spot, laughing shakily as you ease underneath him. Your hips press forward and he takes it as acceptance. “Or don’t,” he says. His tongue teases at your lips, and you can hear the grin in his tone when he says, “I’ll eat you out like this. That’s just fine, too.” His tongue nudges into your opening and you gasp. Your hand finds his hair again. “But tell me you want it.” 

His lips press to the side of your pussy again. You gush involuntarily at the sound of a husky voice, at the way he hovers over you with the promise of more. 

“Mm.” You look down your body at him, making eye contact as he presses kisses closer and closer to your glistening clit. He nods his head at you, encouraging you as he begins twirling his tongue around the area. “Actors are so goddamn self absorbed,” you say. He nods wordlessly again, smiling against your skin. He doesn’t tongue your clit, though. You want him badly to take it into his mouth. To suck—

“Fuck, please,” you plead. “I want it.” 

His eyes glimmer. You feel his hot breath all over you, and can hardly stand the sensation of it. You want to ride his face, make him bring you to orgasm your own way. You nearly forget his sad, petulant attitude in your impatience. 

He takes your clit in his mouth, sucks eagerly as you stroke your nipple through the thin cotton of your dress. Dieter is greedy even in his giving, taking as much of you as you’ll let him. He enters a finger into you—a finger that goes in with an embarrassing ease—and then another when you moan lewdly into the enclosed air of this someone else’s bathroom. His face moves with your hips, letting you rock against the rhythm his own fingers set. You moan his name and he goes faster, and you feel on the brink of imploding. 

Your eyes close and you focus on his mouth, and the fury with which he works at your swollen clit, and you think of his fingers, and the way your cunt clenches around them, large as they are. As you cum against his mouth with an unapologetically guttural moan, he surprises you with the seriousness of his intent—how he does not look up at you or smirk against you, but works devoutly at building another orgasm up. You grip the edge of the sink and your head thuds against the mirror as it lolls back. The glass reverberates but neither of you care; your ass is gradually rising off the counter and his body is rising up, one of his legs kneeled on the ground and the other one hovering. He makes you cum again in a matter of seconds. 

In between your second and third orgasm, his belt buckle jingles open and he’s risen all the way up. He comes up for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and then he kisses you on the mouth. He’s wet with your juices down to his chin and he’s not afraid to spread the taste of you against your tongue. There’s a drop of pre-cum wetting the blue of his tight boxer shorts. You grab onto his jean loops and jostle him closer. He comes without protest. 

“You shouldn’t ask a man how he feels when he’s eating you out,” he tells you. His head is pressed against your chest and he’s looking down at himself, at the way his cock is strained in his boxers. He’s hard as hell. He looks back up at you with intense eyes. “It’s likely he feels pretty fucking good.” 

“Shut up,” you groan. You stuff your hand down the front of his open jeans and his neutrality fades into a smirk. His hips jerk as you palm him and he whimpers, desperate as ever. You fist his hair, driving his neck back so you can kiss along the column of his throat. “The movie wasn’t even that fucking bad,” you tell him. He laughs and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. You suck at the skin there. If he minds, he doesn’t say. His eye lashes flutter against his cheeks and he happily grinds against your hand. You think you could make him beg, if you wanted. You think maybe he wants to. 

You withdraw your touch suddenly and he whimpers, pupils blown wide with desire. He goes from confused to uncertain. “What?—“ 

“Ground,” you command. He nods curtly. 

He peels off his jeans and underwear on his way down to the cold, sterile tile, making no qualms about being bare ass naked on his employer’s bathroom floor. They are downstairs and they’re partying, and even if they weren’t he wouldn’t give a damn anyway. That’s the appeal of him, isn't it? It’s why the public buys the magazines and watches the movies he’s in. Dieter is a brilliant train wreck and they want to see. 

That movie they put him in was so goddamn commercial and so heartless, and so contrived. He hopes he gets cum on the black shower mat because of what they’ve done to him. 

“I’ve got no condom,” he tells you suddenly, remembering. This had been so spur of the moment. A hand on your knee under the table turned to a hand in your underwear and suddenly you were both up here. His face scrunches up, waiting for rejection. 

He supposes he could make do, maybe just ask you to talk to him while he masturbates this hard-on away. Are you into that sort of thing? He supposes it’s a little exhibitionist, and he knows that’s not everyone’s cup of tea but—

You don’t seem to give a shit. You straddle his hips and look down at him. You’re still a little loopy from your orgasms but confident in your approach-confident that he wants this badly as you think he does and goddamnit if you’re not right. He ought to be responsible and ask you the slew of questions responsible people ask before they bury their cocks into nice women such as yourself. Birth control? Have you fucked anyone else and do you think they might’ve given you something? When’s your birthday? Middle name? But he doesn’t. He breathes steadily beneath you, excited and so fucking worked up he’s afraid the first heavenly push into you might be the last one if you’re not careful with him. 

He doesn’t even know if you won’t tell the paps about this. Maybe you will. Maybe the price of this will be a magazine spread featuring a bad airport photo of him and the headline “DIETER BRAVO OUT OF CONTROL: L.A. FLING TELLS ALL.” And this L.A. fling will know all, will have everything to tell. In a matter of seconds he tries to decide what kind of person you are. He softens a bit, and you notice immediately, and that fresh Hollywood self pity is back and he softens some more.  

Before you can ask if he’s okay again, he heaves a telling sigh. “Too much or not enough drugs,” is his response. It was good while it lasted. What’s the worst that can tell them now? That he eats pussy to make up for his drug induced impotence on bad days? 

You look confused, maybe even a little wounded. No, you are wounded. He squeezes your hip as if to say “You did your best” and this hurt flashes more visibly across your face. Well. 

“Coward,” you tell him. His eyebrows raise to his hairline. 

“Hm?” he answers.  

You lean down, whisper it to him. “You’re a self pitying coward. It’s not the drugs. You’re making yourself miserable.”

“Listen—“ he starts indignantly, but you shake your head. Oddly, he’s getting stiff again. This has been the most embarrassing night of his whole fucking life—and perhaps the most telling. 

You look down between your bodies, pleased. “My theory was right.”

“Please,” he groans, “no more or I’m going to kill myself for real.” 

You laugh and it’s so genuine and that he laughs too, despite himself. You might be laughing at him for all he knows but it doesn’t feel like it. He decides once and for all, looking at you, watching you, that you won’t tell about this or about anything. If you wanted to, you would’ve already. And most importantly, he simply doesn’t want to believe you could be someone like that. He isn’t a coward. Not all the time. He takes a chance on you, here, now. 

“Are you on birth control?” he asks. You nod your head. “Have you been tested lately?” You nod your head again. He smiles. “Do you like me? Check yes or no.” 

You check yes — or at least he thinks. You kiss him tenderly, more tenderly than is good for him, and you both fall back into your hurried, lust riddled motions. You take his growing hard on in your hand and guide him into you. You lean your forehead on his and let him sheath himself inside of you. He goes slowly, wincing against the warmth of you squeezing around him. It feels so fucking good—dangerously good. He forgets about the stupid movie and the bosses down stairs and all that miserable shit about ruining their rugs.  

“Do you like it when I’m mean to you?” you whisper, once he’s fully inside. He looks at you, amused, and shrugs his shoulders. 

“I don’t know. Seems like it.”

“Do you think you’d like if…If I was controlling?”

He hums against your shoulder, bringing your body closer to his. “How so?” he asks. He begins guiding your hips, lifting you gently off his cock and slowly back down. 

“Make you beg,” you say quietly. “Maybe call you names, if you want. Maybe tell you how good you are when I think you’re good.”He twitches inside of you and you smile. He smiles too. 

“Actors are so self absorbed,” he jokes.

“Your movie wasn’t bad,” you assure again, more kindly. He doesn’t respond. He kisses the place between your neck and your shoulder. You quicken the pace that you ride him in and he nods gratefully, sighing softly. His knees draw up and you reposition slightly, feeling him more deeply inside of you as you grind back down into him. 

“Do you want to cum?” you ask him. You drive your hips up, gripping onto the hands he has on your hips, making him move in your slow, teasing pace once again. He bites at his bottom lip and doesn’t respond. You stop moving. He flashes his eyes up at you, annoyed and aroused and vaguely infatuated. “Of course,” he breathes out. 

“Tell me,” you taunt back. You resist when he tries to move you back down and he groans, but you feel him twitch in you again. 

“I know you want me to fuck you too,” he counters. 

“Sure,” you nod, “But remember: I’ve already cum three times and you’ve cum none. I think I can withhold far longer than you.”

He can’t help but smirk. That’s not good enough for you. You want him far gone for you, incoherent practically. You rise off his cock completely and he lurches forward, groaning. “No!” he says. “I want to cum!” he says, pawing at you. “Please!”

You hover over his glistening cock and pout. “Didn’t seem like it,” you taunt, moving your hips over him but not touching. His lips part but no words come out. “I want it to seem like it. You’re a big boy, Bravo and you can use your words, can’t you? I hate a man who can’t use his words—who’s afraid to.” You lean down, close to his ear. “I hate a coward.” 

“I—I can use my words,” he stutters. His fingers brush against your hips. “Please, just climb back on me and keep riding me. I—I need that.”

“Tell me.” 

“Fuck,” he grunts. “I need it so bad.” 

You grab his cock, stroke it lazily. “Again,” you say. His face twists up in what could be either pleasure or pain and he says, “Please. I need it. Need you.” 

He’s as hard and desperate as he was before. You kiss him hard on the mouth and allow him to take over again, guiding you down onto him this time. He flips you over, lays you down against the ground, and drives into you. You gasp and he smiles like he’s won a prize. 

“Can I—“ he fills you to the hilt. “—is it alright if I…Can I cum in you?”

You nod your head. He looks at you and you understand he wants more than just a nod. “Yes,” you answer. 

It doesn’t take much more than that. He gathers up your legs, drives into you with one or two more inspired thrusts, and then he’s growing rigid against your body, hot spurts of his cum filling you. He exhales softly into your neck. You think he might apologize for a moment but he doesn’t. Instead he thanks you. 

“Feel better?” you ask. He nods. 

“Much,” he says. “Hell—I might really be starting to think that the movie wasn’t so bad.” When he looks at you, you can tell he’s kidding. 

“Well,” you joke back, “At least even the bad movies get you fucked, huh?”

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #the bubble #the bubble fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

It's been a while. Sorry.

Hi, all.

I've had a couple people in my inbox asking where I am, if I'm okay, what's going on. And I just wanted to say I'm alright! At first, I wasn't online because I had a work project to do, which was taking up all my time.

At first.

Honestly, being offline has been great for me. Every single time I've thought about going back, I've gone into my Tumblr to find a new hate anon in my inbox (mostly centred around wanting me to KMS, etc.) or someone else in the fandom venting about cliques, bullies, hate anons or the like, and I've immediately been turned off. I'm so, so exhausted by all this.

I think it's fairly obvious to state that I don't like some people on here. That's fine, isn't it? Sometimes people just don't like each other, and everyone is entitled to their reasons for that. I've not brought those users up, not said a single word about any of them for ages, and I'd really like to keep it that way. Part of that has involved my choosing to disengage from users who frequently interact with them, and that's not because I hate those users or want to punish them for their friendships - I'd just prefer not to be reminded of anyone I've felt uncomfy with while on here, and I feel like that's a fair boundary to set? I would never ask anyone to stop being friends with people because that's a different bag of crazy than I am, but I also feel it's unfair to have to force myself to be okay with the names of users who I've had negative experiences with pop up on my dashboard all the time. It doesn't make for a healthy environment.

I guess the reason I bring that up is because I can't really fathom who else is sending me all this hate; I have to assume it's people who are upset that I've chosen to unfollow or stop engaging with, because I've blocked all the rest.

I'm honestly struggling to figure out why I'm so hated. I've only ever stood up for myself and for my friends. That's what friends do, isn't it? Stick up for each other? And sure, I've been unkind a couple times. It's human to not always be capable of rising above the shit that gets flung your way. But I don't know why that makes it okay to tell me that I'm so fat that I'm going to die, that people hope I die soon, that I must be ugly IRL which is why I'm clearly such a bitch, that I'm going to die alone with no one who cares about me, that I should be SA'ed, that I deserve to get beaten up and left for dead. I don't know why people want to say these things to me. I've never ever felt that strongly about someone, let alone angry enough to actually send them that kind of message. The worst message I've sent on here was actually to ewanmitchellcrumbs - spoiler, it's related to crackfics. All of those messages were cursed, lol. Who the fuck sends death threats on Tumblr anon?

That's on top of the constant vague-posting others do. I've been so offline that I barely check Tumblr, and it's not because I don't want to come back. I do. I just wish I wasn't slapped in the face by some new uprising of hate and toxicity every time I've tried. I'm paranoid. I don't know who to trust on here. I don't know who's being nice to my face and calling me shit behind my back. I don't know if people want me as a friend or think I have some sort of 'clout' they can piggyback off. To be clear, I don't. I doubt people care about any of my opinions, or my thoughts/feelings outside my writing. That's fine. I don't want to be a part of whatever cliquey shit people are always claiming there is. I don't know if people are talking about me when they're saying these things, because there's been one or two people I've fallen out with to go ahead and accuse me of it. I'm a person? Not a community? This isn't Mean Girls. I'm not Regina George. I'm not even Karen. The Plastics aren't real. I like what I like and who I like and it's just insane to me that there are people who think that's problematic. If they do, of course. Again, I'm really paranoid right now so dunno if people mean me by this or not. Point is, I don't know why people think others owe them engagement.

I can't keep doing the same thing over and over and wishing things would turn out differently. I think a certain scientist with frizzy hair said that's the definition of insanity. I'm tired of thinking I've found friends only to have them decide that I'm inherently unlikeable or worthless to them because I won't invest my all in promoting them like I'm a brand deal. I'm tired of people viewing this community like it's some sort of race to the top. I'm tired of the gaslighting. I'm tired of the insincerity. I'm tired of the rumours and the anons and the vent posts. I'm tired of people making sweeping statements about shit but never specifying anything, leaving everyone to wonder who the fuck is 'in' or 'out'.

I've been transparent on here. You can literally read accounts I wrote of ALL the quote-unquote "drama" I've been involved in. Who else can say the same? I'm not interested in hiding behind my words, or pointing my finger at the room but never at any ONE person, no, because who wants anyone to tell the truth ever? What you see is what you get with me. If I like you, I talk to you. If I don't, you've been blocked. Everyone else is neutral, either because of limited crossover or because we simply haven't had the chance to interact yet. There.

Anyway. I'm in a pretty negative headspace, but most of this has nothing to do with the people who read my stuff. Sorry if you followed for fic and got this. Yikes, right?

Dunno. This might be my last post for a while. This might be my last post ever. Or, this might be my return. I haven't decided yet. Hm. I'm feeling really bitter and alone and just ugh about fandom. Not writing, though. I want to write. Which is why I've decided that, if I do end up returning, I'm going to stick to my own bubble. Write fic. Post fic. Reblog gifs. Get out. Limit interaction outside my inbox where I can. Stick to fic. I've been burned too many damn times to do anything else.

So, yeah. That's what's on my mind, I think. Sorry if you were hoping for something a little less bleh.

Whatever I decide - for those of you that are following me, thank you. I've been so incredibly enriched by my experience here. I love HotD. I love my work. I'm proud. And I love you all.

#bit of a vent post honestly #soz #em writes stuff sometimes personal

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Is He Safe?

CW: Captivity, creepy whumper. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 5: Covert Identity. (Jax, as always, used with permission and oversight from @comfy-whumpee)

Takes place during Jax’s first captivity.

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

-

The ocean sounds like it’s breathing, a constant rhythm of water against the shore. Further down the way, groups of people laugh, throw beach balls, or otherwise enjoy the brilliant sunshine and growing warmth of the day.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of one of the Marcoset vacation homes, the beach is perfectly empty. Private, and privately theirs. At a white table in a white kitchen, Savvie sits, one hand laid over his, watching her best friend speak to his father on the phone. 

Jax is allowed one phone call per week, with Savvie by his side of course. She’s written out a few ideas for him on what to talk about on a little piece of paper. 

If he asks about:

How you are: Great! 

Mention foods you have eaten recently that you like

Change the subject

What you’re doing: Hanging out with friends! 

You love traveling around with me

We have a goal of seeing all fifty states! You’re really looking forward to seeing Alaska

Where you are: Tell him we’re at the beach in Florida

Seashells

Walking by the ocean

Sunshine

Talk about that concert we went to

Ask him about himself as often as possible

I will end the call if he upsets you

They’re really… optional.

Just guidelines on how to keep the conversation nice and light. He doesn’t have to use them, if he doesn’t want to, although of course he wants to. Easier, that way, it must be so much easier than trying to come up with things to talk about all on his own, right? Besides, she’s been able to keep his collar off all week here, and she’d like to not have to put it back on before they even get back home. 

Taking him out to eat and to shops feels like regular, normal life - briefly, Savvie forgets her grief over the loss of her parents, which still sometimes appears in deep waves that knock her over and leave her lying in bed weeping for a day or two on end, Jax cleaning somewhere in the house while Savvie can’t even begin to know how to go check on him or see what he’s up to. 

It doesn’t matter. He’ll just be cleaning, anyway. Unless she forgets to let him out of his room, and then he’ll just be sitting on his bed, or staring at nothing. 

“We, uh-” Jax clears his throat, and it jerks Savvie out of her reverie. She shoots him an encouraging smile, and he answers it automatically before he looks away from her again, looking out at the sea where it laps against the shore. His arm shifts under her touch, and she watches with fascination as goosebumps rise. She rubs at them, watching with delight as he shivers. His voice trembles, but only a little. His dad probably can’t hear it. “We’re in Fl-Florida, right now. Spent last week at the beach, yeah. Picking-... seashells and shit like that.”

“You picked… seashells?” There’s a note of something Savvie can’t read in Jax’s dad’s voice - he sounds almost doubtful, although it’s honestly true. Not the Florida part, but they did spend the last week at the Marcoset family beachhouse in North Carolina. Close enough. In any case, Jax absolutely spent a couple hours yesterday picking up the seashells Savvie pointed out to him, putting them into a little bag to wash and take back home. She'd even found a little bit of rock washed smooth by saltwater in the shape of a heart.

“Uh, yeah, we-... my-... my friends are into it, I guess,” Jax says, and looks at her again. She nods, and smiles, and gives his hand a little squeeze of approval. He’s doing so well. “Honestly I m-mostly just… hang out.”

“Getting a tan, then, are you?”

“B-bit of one,” Jax responds. He’s pale as a ghost, he hardly ever goes outside. When they lay out on the beach, Savvie makes him wear SPF 100+ sunscreen that lathers on as thick as chalk paste. But… his dad doesn’t need to know that either.

“Well, that’s good, then. But, Jax… these... friends of yours that you're with…”

All the conversations happen on speakerphone, but Savvie stays quiet and neither of them mention to the soft-spoken Brit on the other end that she is there. Jax knows better.

His eyes close, briefly, and then he looks steadfast out at the ocean. “They’re nice, Dad. I t-told you.”

“Right, but-”

“How’s Mam?”

The subject change isn’t done well, but his dad goes with it, answering reluctantly and allowing himself to be led away from questioning Jax’s mysterious friends. The first few times he asked, Savvie reached over and hung up the phone, and then made sure Jax didn't call him for weeks on end.

Now, Jax makes sure the wrong kind of questions stop fast. 

She isn’t forcing him to. It's not like they aren’t friends, like they aren’t on a beach trip, like he isn’t having a great time. And he can still call his dad, of course. It’s not like… a threat, or anything. Just that Jax gets so worked up, and it’s better for him to just not talk to his dad at all for a while if it’s going to cause him so much pain and worry.

That doesn’t happen anymore. Jax cuts it off before it can.

Content, Savvie curls her fingers until the tips brush against his palm, and feels his muscles twitch in response. Savvie tells herself he’s squeezing back. They’re friends now. She tells him everything, and he’s such a good listener. They go on weekly coffee dates, just as friends of course, where he sits in the sun by the window, sipping black coffee and watching Savvie as she tells him about… anything. Everything. She’s gone on three dates during this monthlong beach vacay and told him all the dirty details the morning after each one, while they wait for breakfast to be delivered from the bakery down the road.

One man she'd even brought back to the beach house, and Jax had been there, an unobtrusive presence cleaning up after breakfast that her date hadn't even asked about.

All her thoughts and feelings spill out of her with Jax, and it’s amazing. She’d been feeling so alone when her parents died, and Jax has made sure she knows she’s never, ever going to be alone again. 

He’s been such a good friend to her. And she’s been such a good friend to him in return, giving him these trips out and days off his work cleaning her house, letting him speak to his dad as long as he doesn’t start telling him lies or anything like that. Letting him come out of the shell the training place had put him into, letting him be sober most of the time instead of drugged like her uncle keeps telling her he should be.

He’s such a good friend.

He’s so good.

They’re going to be best friends for their whole lives. 

She gives his hand another little squeeze and smiles. He echoes the expression, a half-second delayed, his attention torn between her and the voice coming through the phone.

“... -coming home any time soon?” His dad asks, a little hesitantly. He’s asked that before, and Savvie’s smile briefly fades away, her brows furrowing in distaste. 

He keeps asking. 

Jax’s eyes flicker to her, searching her face for what he’s supposed to say - this isn’t written on the paper in front of him. She’d figured the old dolt would stop asking by now. She gives a slight shake of her head. 

“N-not soon, Dad, no,” Jax answers, without looking away from Savvie. The sun warms the handsome lines of his face and sets those hazel eyes to sparkling. Honestly, you could get lost in eyes like that. If she ever meets a man she wants to marry, and lets Jax date once she has someone else to spend her time with, some girl is going to fall head over heels for him just because of those pretty eyes.

She ignores a twist of some faint ugly feeling, refusing to see it as jealousy. He and his girlfriend can both work for her, that would be fine. Isaac probably has some staff he could choose from, if he wants a girlfriend or a wife. Or maybe one of the other families would have someone. Savvie would have to approve, of course. He'd have to marry someone Savvie thought was good enough for him.

Maybe she should pick someone out for him, she'd know better than he does what he needs, anyway.

“We’d like to see you,” Alfie offers, voice soft, not judging or angry. “We all miss you. Your mam, too, and your sisters-”

“I-I know, Dad.” Jax swallows. There’s a pain in his face Savvie wants so badly to soothe, to hug right out of him. She squeezes his hand again, harder this time, and he jumps a little, as if shocked back into awareness. “Sorry. You… you know h-how it is in America.”

His dad hums, noncommittal. He probably doesn’t know anything about living here, really, and Savvie can’t blame him - she knows more about Russia than she does England, and one day Jax can go with her to visit Moscow and see the ballet…

The thought makes her smile, wistful and daydreaming already about how Jax will get to see so many new things, living with her. She’ll be as good a friend to him as he’s been to her and show him so, so much…

Jax’s shoulders relax just a little bit when he sees her expression back to pleased. He chances a look back at the phone, but of course there’s nothing there but the call screen, the number, the time ticking away in seconds and minutes until Savvie tells him to say his goodbyes for another week. 

“I’ll let you know if I-I can come sometime,” Jax says. His breathing isn’t quite as steady, now. He isn’t looking at her. 

She doesn’t like him as much when he isn’t looking at her.

“Jax, are you-... are you safe?” His father’s voice softens even further, hard to hear through the phone. “Is someone keeping you from having your own phone-... I don’t know, just. We miss you. You know if you ever need to talk-”

Savvie’s eyes narrow. She leans over and firmly presses her index finger down on the red button to end the call. 

Jax exhales in a rush, looking over at her with wide eyes that look oddly hurt. She pulls the phone back to herself and turns it off in case the stupid old man calls back. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” She snaps, her good mood dissipating now, dissolving as she thinks about the question.

Are you safe?

His hands are rough, calloused and with skin that cracks and peels from the harsh chemicals that he cleans her house with. There are circles under his pretty eyes because he doesn’t sleep very well. Savvie isn’t much of a cook and the two of them mostly live on delivery and whatever can be safely popped into an oven and ignored for a while. He has scars around his neck in a little circle, like an odd reddish necklace. 

Sometimes she has him sleep in her room and she holds him, feeling the careful rise and fall of his breathing beside her. She has given him new clothes to wear when they go out and takes off his collar so no one will realize that he’s just staff. She lets him call his stupid family when Savvie should be all the family he needs, and his dad has the gall to not even be grateful for it. 

Is he safe?

What kind of question is that?

“Miss Savvie-”

“Shut up.” Jax’s mouth snaps shut, and Savvie fights a prickle of guilt, trying to tell herself it isn’t what it seems like from the outside. “Honestly, how dare he? As if I would ever let any harm come to you. How dare he!”

She throws the phone. Jax flinches when it bounces off a wall and hits the ground with a crack, shoulders hunching in an attempt at self protection. 

“He, he’s just-... w-worried, Miss Savvie-” Jax is leans away from her when she stands. She ignores it - he’s her friend, he’s not scared of her, he’s just surprised by the phone being thrown, is all. They were nasty to him at that place where he learned how to work, and he just… doesn’t like sudden movements. 

That’s all.

He knows Savvie would never really hurt him, if he’s good. 

Savvie stalks over to the fallen phone and picks it up, rolling her eyes when she sees the screen is cracked now. “Not again. Ugh, Jax, your dad drives me crazy! Maybe I should take you to see him just so he’ll stop asking all the damn time about it!”

“If-... that’s what y-you want, Miss Savvie,” Jax answers, cautiously. Savvie hates this version of him the most, where he gets quiet and barely speaks. Hates even more that it’s her own anger that made him that way.

No.

It’s his dad asking stupid questions, that’s what did it. Not Savvie’s perfectly logical response to them. 

“He… he is just awful, isn’t he?” Savvie says, voice flat and angry, setting her broken phone down on the counter. She’ll have another one delivered today. “I don’t know how you can stand to even talk to him, Jax, he’s so… rude.”

Jax is silent, now. 

That rankles even more, that he doesn’t agree with her and he doesn’t argue. He just watches her, and she can feel the weight of his eyes and usually it just means he’s listening to her but right now she’s sure it means he’s judging her. 

“Right. Well, he’s clearly stressing you out.” She straightens her shoulders, taking in a deep breath. She makes her voice cheerful and relaxed, hoping her body will follow suit. “So. Here is what we’ll do. Until I think you’re okay to talk to him without getting so worked up, then we’ll take a break from the calls, huh? Doesn’t that sound like a good idea?”

He still doesn’t answer.

His answer is not required.

Honestly, she’d just get angrier if he did answer.

Is he safe. It circles around and around in her mind. She’s the best thing that ever happened to him. She was given a cowed, frightened, silent slave to clean her home and now he’s got his own room, his own things, he’s her very best friend. He goes everywhere she goes. She hardly even lets him out of her sight. 

Is he safe?

“Get your swimsuit on,” She says, turning away and pointing towards the stairs to the second floor, watching as he hesitantly gets to his feet, watching her still. “We’re going swimming.”

“M-Miss Savvie-”

“Not one word about it, Jax. You can talk to that nasty creep again when I am damn good and ready.” She finally looks back at him. "You don't belong to him, Jax. You don't owe him anything."

“Yes, Miss Savvie.” Whatever he must see in her eyes keeps him from trying to talk it out any further. Good. 

He heads for the stairs, and she falls in just behind, running her fingers over the cracks in her phone screen, her skin catching at the edge of one, just a little.

Is he safe?

He’s the safest he’s ever been.

As long as he doesn't care about anyone else more than he cares about her. 

-

@whumpyourdamnpears @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @arlin-always-writing @wildfaewhump @whump-tr0pes @iaminamoodymoodtoday @orchidscript @sableflynn @pretty-face-breaker @raigash @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @thefancydoughnut @mylifeisonthebookshelf @whumpinggrounds

#amow tropeathon2024 #day 5:Covert Identity #day 5 #covert identity #captivity #whump #creepy whumper #jax #savvie #the motherfucking gallaghers #captive best friend #they're besties! #really #savvie isn't making it weird at all

[yowyowyaoi]

*Kakuzu and Hidan return to the hideout after a mission; Kakuzu goes straight to his room, and after a while, Hidan follows him*

Hidan: Oi, ‘Kuzu … is something wrong?

Kakuzu, sitting on his bed quietly counting out a stack of money: No. All is well. 

Hidan: *pauses, then moves to stand at the edge of the bed* You’re lying to me, fucker. When ya lie to me ya don’t let me see your eyes.

Kakuzu: In case you’re somehow not seeing what’s in front of your eyes, I’m engaged in something else at the moment, and it requires my full attention.

Hidan: Oh, gimme a fuckin’ break, man. You could count that shit blindfolded. Seriously, what’s up your ass today? You’ve been acting weird since this morning.

Kakuzu: I doubt that you’d understand, brat. 

Hidan: I wish you’d stop treating me like some dipshit kid, old bastard. Me and you … we’re not just fucking, right? We … we got something else goin’ on, right?

Kakuzu, quietly: Yes, we do. 

Hidan: Okay then, you need to start telling me when things are wrong instead of finger-fucking your money.

Kakuzu: *sighs, and scoops up the bills on the bed, putting them on the dresser before patting the spot where they had been* Shut that door, and then come and sit here, please.

*Hidan does as asked and sits by Kakuzu*

Hidan: Well?

Kakuzu: *reaches out with both strong arms and pulls Hidan against his chest, resting his chin in Hidan’s hair*

Hidan, blushing: O-oi! What the hell?!

Kakuzu: Hidan. I … I don’t think I can do this much longer …

Hidan: Well then let go of me, weirdo!

Kakuzu: Not that! I mean … this whole thing. Being in the Akatsuki. The missions, the fighting, the constant traveling and injuries and cheap food and sleeping outside in all kinds of weather … I just can’t anymore.

Hidan: … have you said any of this to Leader?

Kakuzu: Tsk; of course not! He’d kill me for sure!

Hidan: 

Hidan: If you left the Akatsuki, what would you do? Where would you go?

Kakuzu: With luck, drop off the face of the earth. Find a secluded woods somewhere, build a nice little cabin. Hunt, fish, trap furs. Grow things, maybe. But … I can’t. 

Hidan: Why?

Kakuzu: Hidan. As you said earlier, the situation between us involves more than our sexual relationship. In my planning I need to take you into consideration. As absurd as I think they are, you’ve made it clear that you need your Jashin rituals, and the killings, in order to survive. More than that, in order for you to be happy. I can’t uproot you away from something that provides you with a steady stream of —

Hidan: ‘Kuzu. You’ve got to be the biggest dumbest fucker of all time. You realize that I actually need YOU more than any of that shit?

Kakuzu: You do?

Hidan: Yeah, I do. What if we did this thing, and went and made a home for ourselves? Had some little fuckers and all that? It’s not like I still couldn’t find people to sacrifice or you couldn’t still be hunting bounties, right? We’d just have to be careful, and it’s not like we ain’t already used to being careful and shit, so we —

Kakuzu: *pulls Hidan into a deep kiss*

Kakuzu: Hearing you say “we” … makes me feel better than anything in this world. I love you, Hidan.

Hidan, face on fire: L-love you too, you old sap. Now what are we gonna do?

Kakuzu: We have plenty of time to think about it. And at any rate, I know how we can solve at least one of our problems…

*picks out a few large bills from the stack he’d been counting*

Kakuzu: Let’s go out to eat, get some real food for once, eh?

Hidan: … you mean meat?

Kakuzu: Yes, all the bloody meat you want. And bread that doesn’t taste like sawdust, and potatoes …

Hidan: Dessert too?!

Kakuzu: *smiles* Don’t push it, brat.

#kakuhida #fluff #kakuhida fluff #kakuzu x hidan #kakuzu #hidan #naruto #the akatsuki #💵🩸

[a-student-out-of-time]

Regarding the people being suspicious of Eden thing, it brings to mind a quote from The Incredibles 2: "Politicians don't understand people who do good simply because it's right. It makes 'em nervous." Anon would argue a lot of people in fandoms today are the same: they can't stomach the idea that there are genuinely kind people in the world, because that "makes them feel bad" for not being the same. So, Eden can't GENUINELY be a nice person, because then "they look bad in comparison".

//All of this is actually very interesting because Teruko and Arei both have very similar logic in Chapter 2:

//They have a similar sort of view that kindness, friendship and optimism are naive at best and actively harmful at worst. They've bought into the lie that reality is unilaterally terrible and everyone is an asshole out to get to you, and the only way to survive is to be an asshole right back.

//And it's definitely not for nothing, especially when you look at who says these things:

//It's a perspective I've seen in a lot of people who've been beaten down and dealt with so much awful shit in their lives that kindness feels almost alien to them.

//I've seen a lot of real people make those same conclusions, and they often decide that someone being kind is either too stupid to realize what they think they know, or they have ulterior motives.

//And like I keep saying, Despair Time is telling us that this perspective is wrong.

//Teruko's trust issues have only isolated her more and more from the others, and left her with far less information to work with than she would've had if she cooperated. Ace's antagonism and constant fights lead to him nearly getting killed. Arei actually did patch things up with Eden, and how that turned out...well, we can't really say for sure yet.

//It perplexes me how people have mostly latched onto the darkness and misery, and assume that this is some nihilistic misanthropic edgefest simply because the protagonist is the one who has to learn how to trust others. Or that David exists.

//Eden, meanwhile, is the person in the cast who best represents kindness and optimism, and instead of it being a two-dimensional platitude, it's her personal decision to be kind even though she knows how dark the world can be.

//I say all this as someone who has dealt with depression and anxiety for well over a decade at this point: Eden is absolutely right. Bottling up your emotions, withdrawing from others, and only thinking about yourself is a recipe for extremely unhealthy behavior.

//And approaching this from a writing perspective, if this were the grimdark story so many seem to think it is, characters like Eden usually die in the beginning to firmly establish the tone. They don't get scenes like this.

//Now, obviously I have no idea where the story is going to go from here, but I highly doubt that putting so much emphasis on Eden here is meant to signify that this is somehow going to prove Teruko right. On the contrary, I'm still certain this chapter will prove Teruko's decision not to trust anyone is far more dangerous and unhealthy.

//Either people didn't actually pay attention to what was happening or being said in the game itself, or they think that, because a character is kind, that somehow means they're going to be evil.

//I honestly think Eden is the least likely to be the culprit in this chapter. You can quote me on that and throw it in my face if I turn out to be wrong, but I'm sticking to it from here on out.

#mod talks #a student out of time #drdt #danganronpa despair time #eden tobisa #teruko tawaki #arei nageishi #ace markey

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

Kyojuro General Headcannons

Sorry for the inactivity, I only just got settled into my uni dorm yesterday so I was super busy. Struggled to keep this general for him bc I am absolutely down bad for this man. Enjoy ^^

Word count: 900~

Everyone knows that Kyojuro is a foodie but rarely does anyone consider the actual ramifications behind that

First of all, not only does he know the best food in town, but he knows how to get as much bang for your buck

Can and will pull you away from the main marketplace and lead you to a small store where they serve better okonomiyaki for the same price as the one in the main market

Secondly, he hates coffee

This dude is already energetic as fuck, he doesn’t need extra caffeine

Kyojuro once drank coffee because Mitsuri bought it for him (he was too nice to say no)

Next thing everyone knew, Kyojuro finished three piles of paperwork, cleaned the entire house, built a new shed in the yard, and fixed the neighbour's fence

Third, he is one of the BEST people to eat with

Do you eat too quickly or slowly? He won't judge at all!

Stuffing your cheeks while you munch on your food happily? He thinks it cute!

Eating your food in a particular order? Won't ever disturb you about it!

Kyojuro knows better than anyone that people can get insecure by their eating habits, which is why he does all he can to let everyone eat comfortably

Truly values that everyone should eat because food is fuel and how important it is to enjoy how or what you eat

Food is his love language

The one thing Kyojuro won't stand is if you hold cutlery weird

If you grip your utensils with a whole fucking fist he might actually get up and walk away

He can't STAND that shit

While on the topic of insecurities, Kyojuro has some of his own

He won’t show it but Kyojuro’s self conscious about how visible his excitement is

Kyojuro’s smile is 98% of the time genuine, but he tries to give off the impression that people staring at him isn’t bothering at all

The stares he gets from talking, eating, or simply existing in public with his winning smile and his eye-catching clothing makes him feel exposed

Mainly because he knows that a decent portion of the people don’t have good intentions with their constant gaze

Kyojuro doesn't like talking about it because he doesn't want to change; he loves himself the way he is

He just wished that others were more understanding

On a more wholesome note, due to how long Kyojuro and Tengen have been friends, they both keep secrets from you

They say it's for a good reason and you believed them, until you found out that one of those secrets is that Kyojuro knows how to breakdance

"That was so long ago! I have not practised in so long that I fear I may injure others or myself... Perhaps another time?"

He is kinda embarrassed about it, mainly because he has a slight case of performance anxiety

Which speaking about performances, Kyojuro LOVES the performing arts

Theatre, films, dance, music, fights and battles, you name it

Kyojuro is always to find the beauty and appreciation for them, and they always get his blood pumping

But he's also a history nerd, don't get me wrong

"I have learned something new today! Would you like to hear about the empty fort battle strategy? I have found a tale of it in this book, it's quite clever!"

Kyojuro loves learning about new things, and sometimes just needs to vomit info about his favourite interests

Though it goes without saying that Kyojuro would without a doubt do the same thing, so feel free to ramble about what you like as well!

He thinks its entertaining just listening to you and he will be sure to ask you questions

Seeing you happy makes him happy :)

But even a well rounded guy like Kyojuro has his own weaknesses

You would think you couldn't trust him with foods, but it's actually the opposite since he really respects food and eating as a whole

Actually you can't trust him to do operate any mode of transportation

Do not let him in the driver's seat

Keep him away from the captain's wheel on a boat

And do NOT let him ride a horse without you or a trusted adult holding the reigns

It's not because he looses direction of where he's going, what really causes an issue here is how his kindness and his passion are visibly fighting for control in his mind

Either you're sitting there for so long because he keeps letting people pass even if he has the right of way, or he goes into reckless abandon and just put on a GO GO GO attitude

"ONWARDS! We have places to be and things to do!" "Kyojuro, we are going to crash soon if you keep this up!"

Passenger Prince (for everyone's safety)

To wrap this up, Kyojuro's actual love language is quality time spent

As an extrovert, he will try and do everything to do things together if it means passing time with you

"Are you going to the grocery store? I shall accompany you! We are running low on snacks anyways"

Kyojuro can't help but insist on carrying your groceries home (and maybe try to pay for them too)

Overall, Kyojuro is an absolute delight to have around but he has his own struggles too

Please be gentle with him :)

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Hey everyone! I had this in my drafts for so long because tumblr decided to delete my progress last week and I was too frustrated to rewrite this all T_T

Another reminder that my inbox is open and I would really love some requests to work on! Please read my request info before submitting anything ^^

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer blog #kny blog #kny hashira #demon slayer fluff #demon slayer hashira #demon slayer headcanons #kny rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #flame hashira #kyojuro fluff #kyojuro x reader #kyojuro x you #rengoku x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

The energies of Greta Van Fleet:

This is just my little explanation of how I felt out each of the boys when I saw them. Truly, some magical humans to be around and I miss being in the presence of these four beautiful men terribly.

Since he started this whole discussion, let’s start with Josh.

Josh’s energy was immediately recognizable, the second we were let into the venue. It felt so familiar. The second he got on stage though, I could feel it all and it was like he was holding absolutely nothing back from us. His energy was open for everyone (who are open and able) to feel. It was so comfortable and warm. Like standing outside for the very first sunny, warm, Spring day after a cold winter. Love poured from him constantly. I don’t know that i’ve ever felt someone put off THAT much love and genuineness. His energy felt pure and light… Like he would be easy to be around all the time. Josh’s energy was truly so nice to be around, I felt so immensely sad when the show ended. I LONG to feel energy like that again and I can only hope that one day, as I continue to better myself, that I put off THAT kind of energy and love. His energy is healing.

Going on to Danny (because his energy is a bit similar to Josh’s in some ways). His energy was very strong, but also not overbearing. He has a firm, but gentle presence about him… His energy was so peaceful and sweet, but he could command an entire room if need be. Danny is solid. He’s so GROUNDED. I felt a strong sense of loyalty off of him, too. Like I could tell him my deepest secrets and never have an ounce of worry that he would tell someone else. When I saw him in Grand Rapids, it was before he hit this new era. But even then, I could still feel confidence to some degree… Just hidden a little deeper than I think it is now. There was an excitement to him, that immediately had my heart pounding away. His energy truly put me at ease and felt like if it came down to it for some crazy reason, he would take care of me. Without a doubt. Danny’s energy is comforting.

Jake… Oh, Jakey boy. His energy was interesting to feel and process, to say the least. So many layers and not enough time to feel through them all. His energy was so gentle, but not in the same way as Danny’s was. Jake’s energy could be felt, but it doesn’t immediately overtake you. You have to slow down and breathe. Pay close attention. His energy doesn’t demand to be felt, it’s just there… still, relaxed and patient. Easy going, if you will. There’s a truly magical and special feeling of happiness and joy that I got off of him. People think of him as “the moon” and it’s true. Jake is a bright, FULL moon. Casting happiness and Love in a constant flow, just like his twin, but in a different way. You really have to slow down to feel Jake and I love that. He’s a reminder that sometimes you have to slow your life down a little and breathe. His energy also put me at ease, but in a calming way… Jake’s energy is calming.

Sammy boy. I saved him for last for a reason. I could NOT for the life of me feel his energy out at first. It was almost like he was somewhat closed off. He opened up a little bit eventuality, but my goodness… He’s a mysterious little thing. I had this idea in my head before they came on, that Sam would have the type of energy that demanded to be felt. But no. It was like I was being teased in a way?? What little bit of energy he did put off was so… addicting. I wanted to feel more of it so badly. There was a playfulness to him that I love so much. And the PASSION he puts off??? Holy shit. You can tell he loves music and the way it makes him feel. When he was really feeling a particular song (Stardust Chords for example), I could feel him so much more. Like it opened him up a little deeper. His energy was very careful. Like only the ones who truly deserve it, get to feel it all. I would do anything to genuinely get to know him. Sammy’s energy is intriguing.

#gvf #greta van fleet #sam kiszka #danny wagner #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #peaceful army #sammy gvf #jake gvf #danny gvf #josh gvf #jmk #sfk #jtk #jacob thomas kiszka #joshua michael kiszka #daniel robert wagner #samuel francis kiszka #sammy kiszka gvf #danny wagner gvf #jake kiszka gvf #josh kiszka gvf #sam gvf

[muselin]

could i ask for a nsfw alphabet for suju donghae please

Since you ask so nicely! I'm glad that someone is still requesting these.

Super Junior Donghae NSFW alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Top notch. Donghae definitely strikes me as the sort of guy to be a perfect gentleman (in the most positive way you can interpret that), especially if you've just gone hard or tried out someone risqué kinks. Helps you get cleaned up, makes you a drink and even a snack to restore your energy. 10/10 aftercare.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On you it's a little to the side of traditional but your hair. Loves the way you style it, loves how it goes with your face, loves to tug on it while you suck him off and when he's railing you from behind. On himself it's his flanks, he loves when you slip your hands around there when you hug him, when you're out together and you cling to him or when he's fucking into you and your nail dig in there in ecstasy.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He's a happy boi no matter where you let him cum to be honest. Just the fact that he gets to do it with you riles him up and gets him thrusting harder and faster. He's a bit partial to cumming inside you but he equally loves painting your chest and your face if you let him.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Wants to get really rough with you. Like, really rough. You haven't talked about this yet but you know that feeling when you love something so much you want to just squeeze it or squish it? Yeah, that. He's a bit of a sadist, he likes it a little too much when he feels the heat of your skin and your yelps when he spanks you, your whines when he pulls on your hair too hard, the grooves in your skin from his fingers when he's holding you so tight with his full weight on top of you. He wants to hurt you and he wants you to like it. But you haven't talked about that yet.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Good amount of experience, he's in his mid-thirties and you're certainly reaping the benefits of that. He's experienced enough to know that people are unique and all like different things, and it's natural for him to keep checking in with you when he's trying a different motion, or suggesting a kink. "Do you like it" is a frequent phrase whispered or grunted into your ear.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Tends to like positions where he's in control and can manhandle you, like doggy style and from behind in general whether you're laying in bed, on all fours or standing.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He's mostly romantic, not really goofy but he can definitely make light of little accidents like bumping noses, things going the wrong way and such. Makes you feel safe and comfortable and it's never too serious with him.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He's on the traditional side so you won't see him going fully bare but he neatens up and trims for you.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

So fucking romantic, oh my god. The biggest romantic in SuJu. Rose petals in the bath, rose petals on your bed, candles on the dinner table. He lives for this shit and his constant cute confessions and breathy "I love you"s against your skin ensire that you never doubt how much he adores you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He tends to feel frisky a lot. He's a fit, healthy man in his prime and if he isn't having sex with you that day, chances are that he's taking care of himself. He sees it as something natural and sometimes even calls you on the phone for company while he does it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He's conflicted because honestly there's so much that he wants to try with you and a lot of things that he likes. One favourite of his predator-prey, with himself as the predator of course. Loves the physicality of it, loves how it gets both your hearts racing and how he gets to manhandle you and sink his teeth into your skin.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He's not exactly a fan of being watched but he's impulsive and so in love with you that your sessions are not confines to just your house. Hotel balconies, deserted beaches, that one time in Shindong's bathroom at his house party that he prays Eunhyuk didn't snitch about - semi-public sex is definitely on the table.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Memories with you. Places, scents, songs, anything that reminds him of times where he kissed you passionately and lost himself in your body is certain to make him want to do it again and again.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As much as he enjoys domming you, he's not a fan of a Master/slave type dynamic. He sees you as his equal or even as more important than himself. He feels uncomfortable about putting you in a truly subservient position and is likely to turn you down if you asked him for this.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Loves both equally and it's a staple in your sessions. You take turns and he fully enjoys the attention from your lips and tongue on his cock. He equally loves burying his tongue inside you, sucking on your sensitive spots and getting you so riled up for him that you whine and beg beneath his lips.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

As much as he would like to keep it slow and sensual more often, he is more likely to end up rattling your bones against the bed, or wall, or whatever surface he's pinned you against. He's romantic but he's rough, his feelings and passion overflow and drive his fast thrusts until he's carved his desire for you in so deep that you can take no more.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Frequent occurrence when you're busy or tired. He will absolutely take a quickie over nothing, always a glass half full type of guy.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He tries to be careful and educated but he definitely loves risk. Would never willingly put you at excessive risk or get careless but he definitely is impulsive and that bleeds into some undernegotiated moments at times. A degrading word in your ear when he doesn't know how you'll react, putting a coded padlock on your handcuffs and forgetting the last digit - it's never too reckless but there's always a bit of risk.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Great stamina. Can go for two long, hard rounds. He could go for a third but later in the night or in the morning.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's definitely interested but doesn't own any yet. He brings the idea to you and you start to build your own little collection together. He'll only buy toys you approve of, and once he gets the hang of what you like, he'll surprise you with a new toy every once in a while.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Even as a dom he's too impatient to tease. Overstimulation would be his thing over teasing hands down. When you're having softer sex he's a total pleaser and you'll be getting twice the number of orgasms for each one of his.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He can get loud especially when he's close. Loud moans and a lot of "Oh my god" and grunts low in his throat. He doesn't hide how good you make him feel and you love it.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Loooooves to stuff you full. Balls deep in your ass with a dildo in your cunt? Any day. Filling up your mouth with his cock while his fingers piston inside you with your body laid over his, he just has this urge to slot himself inside of you and make his mark in some way so that you never forget where he belongs.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Average length and girth and that is perfectly sufficient. He knows how to use it very well and that is what has you downright addicted to his cock. You can't help getting turned on when he walks around in his underwear or sweatpants and you can see the outline of it because it reminds you of how much pleasure he's brought you and you can't wait to have him inside you again.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

On the high side. If he had his way he would have you every day, and when you're not there he'll go for a daily jack off to keep himself relaxed and satisfied.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Donghae falls asleep easily. With aftercare done and no worries in his head, he sleeps easy, arm draped over you or his body plastered along your back so he can stay close to you.

#super junior smut #donghae smut #suju smut #super junior hard hours #super junior donghae smut #suju hard hours

[engineer-gunzelpunk]

Traintober 2023: Out Of Service

Heavy Harry’s Last Train

1956

A sad day for Harry, for he was to pull his final revenue raising train to Melbourne before his overhaul. But the way things were going, everyone doubted if he would actually get it.

He had slept overnight at Seymour before the trip, which was OK because Newport had taken on a charnel house-like atmosphere. The scrap roads filled with exhausted, sad locos ready to be taken apart. It was basically his second home anyway.

Is this the day I finally get to cry? It would be an acceptable excuse to do it.

The tears would not come. He felt drier than the Simpson Desert. Numb.

His cylinders on the other hand, always felt slightly ticklish. And not from those weird happy butterflies he got in them when he saw VR Hudson R700 Nucklevee again, but bad sort of ticklish.

Steam was leaking into them, his regulator was probably broken in addition to his sore, in-need-of-replacement boiler and if it wasn’t for the Westinghouse brake, venting as much steam as he possibly could through his cylinder cocks, safety valve and his sheer willpower in locking them, he would careen off by himself with an 800 tonne load.

He did not want this to happen.

Please, please, please I need my overhaul so bad! Even if you put me in mothballs, at least make me safe!

That’s not going to happen isn’t it?

I’m now an actual danger to myself and people. You can’t really be this negligent, VR? Say it ain’t so? Its one thing to let us get caked in filth, its another thing to lag behind on overhauls just because you want to be rid of us.

You don't care, do you?

I’m about to have my last ride and I’m actively a danger to everyone. I’m trying so very hard…

He was washed and cleaned for his final ride, which didn’t improve his mood a jot but at least he didn’t look as shabby as he did. His paint did shine a little duller though, whether from sadness or from neglect was difficult to tell.

“How are you, Harry…”, asked Driver

“Not great…” he said as if under water.

“I can understand… its a sad day for everyone…”

“I’m shit scared… my regulator is leaking…I can feel the steam in my cylinders even with the regulator shut… I don’t want to do this…”

“Lets try get through today, Har’, we’ll work our darndest to make it safe and get you home...”

“I’m not going to get that overhaul, won’t I…”

“I don’t think so, boy...”

30th of April, 1958

“What are they going to do with me? I’ve been sitting here for two years...I’m bored and antsy… and I haven’t heard from the Historical Society in weeks… Do you have any news, Driver?”

“I’m so sorry, Harry...there’s no nice way of saying this… you are being withdrawn…”

Harry didn’t quite hear Driver say these words, terrible overwhelming fear and confusion flooded his smokebox.

The physical pain that was in his boiler that was now constant but low, suddenly stabbed him and he exhaled sharply.

“No reprieve?”

“No, big fella”

Driver squeezed his knuckle coupling sadly, in an attempt to give him comfort.

“What is to happen to me, Driver…”, he said in a voice that was barely above a murmur.

“We don’t know…the preservationists are working on something… but it will take time…”

That emotional pain that was already there, more of it was being added. But he had to push that aside and think.

“What will you do, Driver…”

“I’m a railwayman, and always have been…

“There’s no place for us in the brave new world of swappable roles they are going to create… easy to drive, easy to train, which was what I suspect was going on the entire time they were doing this diesel introductory thing anyway...

Not a word of thanks for the work and love we put into you and yours, Harry…

I’ll never forget you, big fella…”

Harry wanted so very badly to cry, but the pain could not flow outwards. Instead, it settled back into his cold firebox and burned as bitterness.

The pain in his side flared, as if expressing what he could not.

He just cast his eyes downward and sighed.

There is no light at the end of this tunnel, just another, even bigger fuck-off train ready to barrel through you and out the other side, leaving you in pieces all over the track.

#victorian railways #thomasallgrownup #VR H-Class H220 “Heavy Harry” #Red And Black Steam On Southern Metals #Heavy Harry OC #Traintober 2023 #Traintober 2023: Out Of Service

[tarosucheon]

Sucheon and Gangseok Friendship in 5 minutes

blorbo thoughts consumed my mind. More elaboration on this chart below the cut

sends cute stuff/sends cursed stuff:

I feel like Gangseok is also an stickler for cats and anything cute in general and is just an overall softie for that kind of thing, so he probably sends things like flowers/cats/animals. As for Sucheon, I feel like he wouldn't send neither cursed or cute stuff necessarily and would fall into the more dead center, but I can see him sending something cursed more than sending something cute. I feel like both of them would send each other photo's of their gross ass injuries all the time.

argues for fun/conflict averse:

Sucheon doesn't argue for fun, and usually minds his own business, but if provoked he'd definitely start shit. As for Gangseok, he manages to remain remarkably out of it, and is an general peacekeeper.

Shares food/steals food:

It's my personal headcanon that Sucheon is an picky eater and Gangseok has an cast iron stomach and as a result of that Gangseok just eats whatever Sucheon doesn't want. However, in terms of generosity, I think that Gangseok would share his snacks and Sucheon would be the one stealing.

completely feral/mom friend:

I just realized I forgot to put Gangseok's circle on that one ANSJDASJ. But he'd definitely be on the far "mom friend" side. He already has that leader vibe to him, but is also incredibly caring and compassionate and I can see him scolding Sucheon for being..Sucheon. As for Sucheon, while he isn't completely unrestrained and feral, sometimes he'll go off his fucking rocker. Paired with his sharp tongue and "i don't give a fuck about you or your feelings" attitude, it's enough to constitute him as pretty feral.

shoulder to cry on/always crying:

This one was a bit of an stretch for me, especially on Sucheon's part. Gangseok of course would be the shoulder to cry on, and since Sucheon has an considerable amount of baggage compared to Gangseok, I put him more farther on the 'always crying' part. However, I doubt he'd ever truly cry, but moreso be more emotionally unbalanced and would need Gangseok to keep his emotions steady.

introvert/extrovert:

I think both of them are introverts, but Sucheon moreso than Gangseok. However, I do consider Gangseok to be someone who's introverted by choice rather than being painfully awkward and unable to connect with anyone. I see him as someone who prefers solitude, and Sucheon's just an more radical version of that. He does not like people.

affection through words/affection through action:

Because Sucheon is shown many times to lack anything that's virtually nice in the verbal department, he's kind of forced into the 'affection through actions' kind of person. I feel like it'd be less acts of service and more of him noticing things about the other person or stepping in for them. Gangseok, on the other hand, I can see being someone who can easily state how he feels about someone, but would prefer to express it through his actions. He'd be much more of an acts of service person.

constant gossip/pretentious conceptual conversations:

When I say Sucheon's an gossip, I mean that he shit talks and bitches about anyone to Gangseok all the time. I doubt he'd be very interested in anybody's personal life or rumors, but he loves shit talking people. As for Gangseok, I can see him info dumping about martial arts or something to Sucheon all the time and about the different techniques. Which is good for Gangseok, because fighting is one of the few topics Sucheon doesn't mind hearing about. He finds learning about other association's fighting styles necessary and vaguely interesting.

"borrows" things/the lender:

I think Sucheon wouldn't want nor find any reason to borrow anything from Gangseok, and Gangseok would be more likely to borrow something from Sucheon, though I don't think it'd be often because they both seem to be indivualistic people who rarely don't have what they need. (Sucheon is constantly on his ass trying to get back the things Gangseok "borrowed" from him)

physical affection meter:

Both of them just aren't an fan of it. The most Gangseok can take is probably someone resting on his shoulder or sitting really close to him. The most Sucheon can take is someone being four feet or less to him.

Gift giving meter:

Since I can see Sucheon being more observant, I also think that'd translate to him seeing something that reminds him of the other person and just randomly buying it. I lowkey feel like Gangseok would be an awful gift giver, but would buy gifts to express his affection from time to time.

#eleceed #choi gangseok #kang sucheon

[modernday-orpheus]

Okay, hear me out. If Tim idolized Batman instead of Robin, Bruce would be dead.

(long post under the cut!)

Disclaimer: I am not perfect and don't know everything there is to know about comics! Some shit here may be accidentally based on fanon rather than canon! Please be nice!

Tim, of course, respects and looks up to Batman. Bruce is his mentor and his father, so it's safe to assume he loves him as well. But his Hero™ is and always has been Robin, Dick at first but especially Jason judging by the timeline. Most people in Gotham view Robin as an addendum, an extra, nothing more than a kid sidekick. They’re disappointed if her shows up without Batman, and question his abilities. Tim’s hero worship combined with his knowledge of their identities, in this case, allows him to see things as they truly are. For Tim, Robin is a light in the dark, a balancing act with Batman, not his sidekick but his partner. He’s a necessary part of the Dynamic Duo because while Batman represents Justice, Robin represents this Hope for a better future. Sure, he’s just a kid; by all accounts he shouldn’t even be out there fighting, but maybe, if he is, no other kids won’t have to fight as hard just to survive. He represents the soul of Gotham, underneath the criminality and corruption; a city full of people, tough-as-nails, saying “No, fuck you, this is our city” despite the constant danger. He represents the people who come together in times of crisis, who help out their neighbors when each new disaster strikes. He’s trained in martial arts, of course, and he’s a skilled fighter, but Robin’s primary job is always the safety of civilians. He’s the one that gets scared little kids out of a burning building while Batman keeps the villain of the week busy, the one who stays behind with SA victims walks them home because Batman is too much for those things. He uses fear where Robin uses kindness, compassion, and love.

Tim sees this. So, when Robin dies and Batman is getting rougher, more violent, more careless, he notices. He notices that Bruce is picking bigger fights than he can handle, taking hits he could dodge, breaking four ribs instead of two, barely making it back to the manor each night. If he idolized Bruce, at this point, he would trust him the way the rest of Gotham does. He would assume it was a rough patch, and Bruce would recover, and that Batman would always save the day. He would see a solitary hero, the way Batman wants to be seen. He wouldn’t think it necessary to reach out to Dick for help, and even if he did he would think Nightwing would be enough help. He wouldn’t understand the importance of the Robin mantle, the specific role that needs to be filled. Nightwing can represent a lot of things; fluidity, positive change, and freedom come to mind immediately, but there's no world where Nightwing represents Gotham and Hope the same way Robin does. He can’t serve the same purpose anymore, not in that uniform. Bruce would die at Two-Face’s hands in that very first arc, I have not a single doubt in my mind.

Then, as Tim comes back to Gotham post-training and actually starts to help out, it’s common for him to be the conscience. He falls easily into the role of Robin, the role that makes him protector of the innocent. He’s not like Jason, raised by these streets in a very different way, though I wouldn’t say either is better or worse. Where Jason struggled and had to fight, out there each night pre-Bruce out of necessity rather than choice. He knows all the best hiding spots and back-alleys because it kept him alive. He chooses to be Robin because he needed a hero and wants to be that for other people. Tim chose those streets, and he chose them for Robin. He knows the best hiding spots because they put him closer to the action, because he raised himself on all those cold nights alone on rooftops with his camera. He knows the back-alleys because they made him faster, made it so his little kid legs could keep up with his hero so he wouldn’t miss a moment. He lives for Gotham nights, for the thrill of seeing everything, getting to know everything. He chooses to be Robin because where his parents failed to teach him how to be a good person, Robin stepped up. He bases his morals off of watching Robin help people, and because he’s a kid he assumes that it’s normal to behave with altruistic intentions and prioritize others.

There’s a point to be made here, briefly, about how this lends itself to Tim’s self-worth issues and insecurities. If his job is to assist, supplement, guide, and fill in the blanks when Batman fails, he doesn’t have the option of failure. He expects that how he does his job, as long as the job gets done, doesn’t matter because he doesn’t view himself as the hero. He never views himself as a main character in his own story; he truly thinks he’s doing what anyone else in his position would gladly do. This is why he overworks himself, why he’s known for living, for lack of a better term “like a goddamn ninja turtle”. It’s why he’s always Robin or Red Robin or even his public persona Timothy Drake-Wayne but rarely Just Tim. Very few people get to see Just Tim, normal Tim, because if they’re seeing that then he’s not doing his job.

All of these factors lead to Tim’s conclusion that if no one else can get Batman out of this state, least of all Batman himself, of course the next logical conclusion is that it’s his responsibility to step up and do the job. Furthermore, it’s only because he idolized Robin that he can fill the role properly because his relationship to Bruce, especially in the beginning, is nothing like Dick and Jason’s relationships with Bruce. He’s not his kid, doesn’t bring Robin’s joy and hope home, so instead he has to work twice as hard in the field to keep Bruce away from the edge. He’s the first of the Robins to view himself as Batman’s protector rather than the other way around, and he’s the only one who Bruce acknowledges when he tries to fill that role. Bruce accepts it when Tim manages him, reorganizes his files, forces him into the medbay, even when he very occasionally goes as far as to outright scold him rather than just pressure him to make the right choices. He’s given an inch and takes a mile, because he believes (rightfully, in my opinion) that if he doesn't then all hope is lost. And Bruce allows him to help, to guide, as much as he’s willing to because he’s not his kid first. He’s Robin first.

This mentality carries over to the Red Robin arc, where Tim spends an entire year chasing after Bruce to save him. He does it alone, and although he asks for help he doesn’t actually expect it. Furthermore, because his morals are based off of Robin in his infinite altruism rather than Batman with his rigid rules, he doesn’t mind working with Ra’s al Ghul. He doesn’t mind betraying Ra’s by killing his men, by blowing up his bases. He doesn’t tell Bruce about it to protect Bruce from having another murderer under his roof, and because he doesn’t think it matters enough. Bruce isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to save him. I believe he would have been if any other Robin had shown up. He and Dick have had a strained relationship for years, he and Jason aren’t even on speaking terms, Stephanie was so often full of rage at him throughout her run as Robin and is dead at the time, and he doesn’t even really have a relationship with Damian. Aside from all of that, he’s assumed dead. He can’t assume the Justice League will spend their time saving a dead man. And yet, despite all of that, he isn’t surprised when Tim is the one to pull him out of the time stream. He’s disoriented, sure, and a little surprised it was possible for him to be saved at all, and he even wants to hear about how he figured it out, but his doubt is never placed on the fact that Tim would be the one to understand and tear the world apart to bring him home.

I believe this also helps to explain Tim’s struggle with letting go of the Robin mantle, outside of the fact that he was the first to have the choice to move on taken away from him. If he’s always been Robin first, always felt the weight of that on his shoulders, what is he supposed to do when his very identity is stripped away right as he loses everyone who got to really know him as Just Tim? How is he supposed to cope with having to reconstruct his own idea of who he is with no one around to remind him? Humans are social creatures. We learn and grow with and because of each other. He’s encouraged by Dick to grow quickly out of Robin to fill a new role, which is a nice sentiment from Dick’s own point of view, but he’s lacking a sturdy foundation. Not because it’s not actually there, or because he lacks personality or morals, but because he truly views himself and all of his good decisions as just what anybody would do and what Robin is supposed to do. He doesn’t consider that following these morals makes them his, makes them the building blocks for wherever he goes next, he considers them to be traits of a character he no longer plays; a purpose he no longer serves.

#tim drake #red robin #robin #batman #dick grayson #red hood #dcu #dc batman #dc comics #dc robin #Nightwing #dick grasyon #tim drake wayne

[meimi-haneoka]

È il mio 10 anniversario su Tumblr 🥳

It's apparently my 10th anniversary on Tumblr 😳😳😳

This blog definitely didn't start as a CCS blog, or not even a Clamp blog, I remember I was in my Saint Tail brainrot/withdrawal period, and I wanted to ramble about it all alone on a personal space, always hoping that Tachikawa sensei one day would write the extra chapter that she talked about on her blog...hence why I chose this url. For this and another personal reason, actually. I also loved to RT all the nice screencaps and edits for my favorite anime...

...then 2016 came and the love of my life, CCS, came back and my blog was absolutely swept away by the excitement, turning pretty much into a constant stream of CCS content and chapter commentary for Clear Card each month. When the anime came out in 2018, things only got worse 😂 but then in 2020 I started to realize about the translation differences between the English version and the original Japanese, and I decided that my beloved story deserved better than that, better than being misunderstood like that, especially the new characters that in the meantime I came to love so dearly...

So pretty naturally, I started to vent my frustration compiling all the mistakes/differences every month, in a very "whoever is willing to read it, is welcome to do so" fashion. For my convenience the differences are always included in my commentary. I haven't gone around promoting my posts very much, it's basically always "I run into someone confused about a line in the Eng ver/got some facts wrong, I tell them that the original JP actually says something else and I leave a link to my blog".

The more the story went on, the more I wondered if I was stepping on anyone's toes for doing these posts, but with my immense joy it seems they got Clamp's blessing, so I'll keep doing them till the very end of the story.

In between these commentaries, I throw some other translations I do mainly for myself (Twitter Spaces where Sakura is mentioned, interviews especially about the anime, etc) and that I like to organize more or less neatly in one place, and that people can share if they want. And also my fanarts, even though they never do big numbers here. But heh, I'll keep sharing them here too, cause it's my blog after all.

So yeah, 10 years of this. There were definitely times when I've hated this website and its community since things were becoming pretty toxic, flames started randomly out of nowhere, I just hope once the anime will be back it won't be the same shit again. I stopped looking at the CCS tags because of that and other reasons connected to that, so unless one of the people I follow shares it and puts it on my dash, I almost never reblog CCS art/edits/gifs etc. Cause the pretty artworks aren't worth wrecking my mood because I found the nth person shaming something that I love (and the people who love that thing, with it). Sorry about that, my blog is pretty boring in that sense.

Luckily, Tumblr brought me also good things, so I guess it makes up for that. I've met lots of people from my current CCS "circle", here.

To be honest, I know I have 2626 followers (as of today), but to this day I still wonder why. I highly doubt all of them are here because they're interested in my posts, probably not even half of them, lol (and I do my best to kick the bots). Nonetheless, thank you to all the people who interact with my posts ❤️ and thank you for sending me nice asks every month! 🙏 I don't always reply to them right away and some of them I leave for later when I have a downtime (like this one ask that's pretty broad in topic and I'm keeping it for when I have a little more time and nothing else to talk about).

Since Clear Card will continue for a little more than expected, the monthly appointment here will continue in parallel, and I'm already preparing my next "trivia" post, it's a topic I wanted to talk about since looooooong time. 😉

#10 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone #10 years on this hellsite?! #Naaaaah #You gotta be kidding me #I feel so old lol #Personal

[arcplaysgames]

okay so I was kinda right about Medjed! is that another victory in my column or not? hm

After sleeping for I think 22 days, Futaba wakes up and gets to counterhacking the hackers.

Reverie and Morgana get bored and start cleaning up her room while she works.

Reverie got them skills. I still want an AU where he's a housespouse who moonlights as a cat burglar, if the fandom hasn't written a dozen of them, what the fuck have they been doing.

gurl, we need to get you some vitamin c and iron, holy shit. i hope you like edamame and oranges, it's all your eating for the next week.

Does anyone else think this voice actor does NOT fit this character, or is it just me? It's a constant distraction.

Aw he looks nice. What horrific creative crimes has he committed?

I finally belatedly noticed that the Palaces are all built around one of the deadly sins. "Arc, how could you not notice--" deadly sins are dumb, it's not in my authorial wheelhouse, blah blah. so anyway we did Lust, Vanity, Gluttony.... then the Thieves call out Futaba's sloth in the calling card, but she's actually associated with Wrath? Which is confusing. That means our options are.... uh. /googles.

Envy, Sloth, and Greed.

If the Final Boss is, like, the dude positioning to be the future Prime Minister, then I would say he should be Greed? Greed for power? But who even knooooows.

OKAY SO I WAS KINDA RIGHT! She was Medjed! But it's basically Anonymous, it's a placeholder name for anyone who wants to use it. Yeah 'cause that always goes well.

looks worriedly at Morgana

Beige Boy shows up to sass Sae some more and

squints at these dialogue boxes

You know what I'm interested in seeing? I figure Akechi is gonna join the Thieves in some capacity at some point, it's being set up pretty aggressively. What interests me is whether we will see his persona awakening or if he'll already have a persona when he joins.

'Cause like.... Okay I'm pretty sure Akechi knows the Thieves aren't behind the mental shutdowns. I'm 70% sure. Ergo:

There is a 70% chance that Akechi is the black masked guy in the Metaverse causing the mental shutdowns.

Or there is a 30% chance that Akechi is being played by someone he trusts, who is giving him bad information re: the mental shutdowns. Which... would dovetail nicely into him joining the crew, actually, if they uncovered the true culprit and Akechi (like his Detective Prince predecessor) swapped sides to the Thieves upon realizing they're the only people who can stop the true perpetrator.

Actually, that would be an incredibly tidy bit of writing, I'm gonna say its 50/50.

He's still sus as fuck 24/7/365 though.

hello i am here for the Futaba and Sojiro Show

Also Sojiro fucking drops the fact that his curry recipe was from Wakaba. He made her curry once and she was so intrigued, she asked for information on how to make it, then returned to Sojiro with a refined, scientifically reinforced recipe, and that's the one Sojiro still uses.

I love Sojiro, what the fuck.

BITCH JUST TELL ME WHO YOU PUSHED YOUR FUCKING MALWARE APK TO AND SAVE ME THE TIME, I KNOW IT WAS YOU.

Makoto has this whole plan to basically give Futaba's interpersonal skills a workout until she's a little more able to handle Thief-y work, but of course Futaba latches onto Yusuke, because she has excellent taste and they are both kindred weirdos.

oh yeah you guys are gonna be besties, i can tell

She also keeps putting on a big costume head when she gets nervous, which is an interesting literalization of "masking" I guess.

I have no intelligent commentary, I just like that when Futaba whines at Sojiro here, he stops and assesses the situation, deems it harmless, and goes back to what he was doing. There's no doubt he'd jump in to help if needed, but also I think Futaba is just the time to simper and tug at his attention because both of them enjoy that. It's very good, I like it.

Also, again: Futaba's VA choice is so fucking good. Love it.

Next up is a beach trip and I cannot imagine it beating P4G's incredible beach vacation, but we shall enter it with open hearts and open eyes.

#p5 #persona liveblog

[cricketnationrise]

HI! Love your writing! Ollie/Wicks, Saturday April 15, 2017 (Post the NCAA Championship win!), the Haus. Thanks for doing all you do!

Thank you so much! 💜💜💜 this prompt made me grin so much when I read it, and writing it was a joy. Hope you love it as much as I do!

_X_ _X_ _X_

The Haus, Apr. 15, 2017

Not even two hours after the final horn signaled Samwell’s win against Brown, the team was back at the Haus, kegster in full swing. Three different kegs are flowing, Shitty had showed up with premade tub juice to augment his and Wicky’s own brew, and Louis managed to fend off Ransom and Holster trying to take over DJ-ing by playing strategically timed line dances. Lardo already has a crowd around her, spectators and hopeful (naive) challengers alike. Ollie’s voice is already basically gone from the amount of shouting he’s done today.

He still can’t believe they actually won. Four years of hard work, of tears, of overworked muscles, and they finally did the damn thing. Bitty might have been shocked at getting voted captain, but there was no tougher fucker on their team. Bitty’s ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. (Maybe a three pound bag.) Ollie never doubted that he would get them to the final.

He and Wicky have been joined at the hip since the bus dropped them at Faber – unwilling to drop their hands as they quickly stowed gear and hustled over to the Haus. They’ve been in constant contact while dancing, drinking, during fruitless rounds of pong against Lardo for old times sake, and as they steal bites of Bitty’s post-win-drunk-as-a-skunk cookie dough on their way to get refills.

Wicky stole his hat hours ago, but Ollie doesn’t mind. He’s never minded, not when it's Pace. Seeing Wicks wear his clothes has always made his whole soul sing, warm with pleasure and pride. (Watching the increasingly drunk team try to figure out which of them they're talking to is an entertaining bonus tonight.)

They’re not so much dancing right now as hugging tightly and swaying drunkenly in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, not paying any attention to the beat as they move. Every now and then, one of them will just start giggling again – still high on their win and basking in the atmosphere. It’s like the team is at the end of a movie. They vanquished their foes and now, in the denouement, they get to be giddy and romantic and fucking happy as hell. It feels like any minute now, their world will fade to black and play a pop song, or freeze frame on a group shot of everyone grinning, orchestra swelling. 

Suddenly the thumping base cuts off, and Ollie pulls away from where he was fully octopused on Wicks to look over at Louis’ set up. 

Oh shit.

“HEY Y’ALL!”

Bitty has a megaphone. Luckily people are feeling indulgent tonight so they just cheer louder instead of booing their captain for interrupting the music.

“WE ARE THE FROZEN FOUR CHAMPIONS, Y’ALL!”

“Yo, Jack, do we need to start Bitty Patrol?”

“You hush your face, Mr. Nurse, I will not be disrespected in my own Haus,” Bitty chirps back. He takes a breath and then frowns, looks at Jack. “Where was I, sweet pea?”

Ollie joins in the team-wide yell of FIIINNNNEEEE without even thinking about it. He doesn’t even need to look at Wicky to bump his fist in their own private version of nice one, dude.

“RIGHT. As I was saying. WE WON THE FROZEN FOUR and y’all, it has been an honor, and a  privilege to captain this team this year. I love all y’all so much! We’ve been through it, and we fucking earned this! So go forth and celebrate y’all—”

Whatever else Bitty was going to say is drowned out by cheering. He beams out over the crowd and hops down off the chair he was standing on, making a beeline to Jack as We Are The Champions kicks on. Wicks tugs on his arm and jerks his head toward the backyard, and Ollie lets himself be led outside without complaint.

Without a word, Wicky nabs a water bottle from the cooler Ollie had hidden back here at the start of the night and hands it to Ollie.

“Thanks babe, I’m fuckin’ parched.”

“I could tell,” Pacer says with a soft smile as Ollie gulps down the water. He drains half of it and passes it back to his boyfriend to finish off. There’s some fireflies out tonight and Ollie finds himself drifting further into the yard to watch them, letting the peace of the moment wash over him. The sounds of tub juice-soaked Queen lyrics being shouted through the walls of the Haus are somehow perfect for this moment.

“Ollie?”

“Hmm?” he asks without turning around. 

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Fire away, babe.”

“Could, shit, okay, could you turn around, at least?” A little reluctantly, he turns around and his breath catches in his throat. 

Pacer is on one fucking knee.

HOLY SHIT.

Pace grins at him nervously before he takes a deep breath.

“Oliver Oscar O’Meara.” Ollie can’t help but interrupt, giggling slightly hysterically. “How the fuck do you know my middle name?”

“I called your mom, now shut up and let me get this out, okay?”

Ollie just nods, not trusting his voice anymore as he tears up.

“Ollie. You’re my partner, my best friend, the person I want to wake up next to and fall asleep beside every day for the rest of my life. I love you so much, and I was going to wait till graduation and I don’t even have a ring yet, but after today I couldn’t wait one more second to ask you: Will you marry me?”

Ollie is outright crying now, but he’s also smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. He tackles Wicky to the ground, laughing in delight.

“Is that a yes?” Wicky asks between messy kisses.

“Yes! As if there was ever going to be a different answer, you fucker! Yes!” he yells before leaning in again. Now Wicky will be really surprised when Ollie proposes at graduation.

_X_ _X_ _X_

followers only have one week left to request their own ficlet - details here 💜

#cricket writes #ficlet fest #omgcp #check please #olliewicks #ollie/wicks #background boyfriends #these boys are FROZEN FOUR CHAMPIONS BABY #smh #the haus #date stamp ficlet #this is the longest ficlet so far i think! #ollie #wicky #i'm too tired to put this on AO3 tonight so that will happen tomorrow at some point

[artpharos]

I doubt she'd ever know that I'm going through antidepressant withdrawals. I doubt she'd even care, even though she's the reason I'm on them in the first place. To date, I've spent $4k in mental health support because of her, I've went through 3 years of constant breakdowns and psychosomatic pains, I FINALLY caught depression after years of her trying to convince me I had it, and now I'm going through antidepressant withdrawals with my brain buzzing every minute and she won't even acknowledge that any of what I feel- my anger, my grief, my heartache- is even REAL.

When she first hurt me 3 years ago she begged for me to stay, then said that all my reasons why I was angry at her for hurting me was because I was depressed. That nobody else in the whole goddamn world spotted said depression because I only trusted her the most. Whenever I asked her why she even wanted me in her life, she said she loved my fics and art, and couldn't put into words why she liked me. That she didn't tell people why she liked them AT ALL in case they stopped taking her seriously if she said it too much. So she never told me WHY she 'loved' me; what she even respected about me, something to actually give me some context for her wanting me in her life after she treated me like shit because 'we were so close so I thought you wouldn't take me snapping at you repeatedly seriously'.

So since she can't fucking tell me ANYTHING and just expects me to fucking read her mind cuz communication is for people who aren't close apparently, I think that's bullcrap and she just wanted me around because she didn't like the feeling of being called out for being an asshole. That she truly only ever cared about what I produced or what I gave to her (art, fics, someone to tell her how SMART she is), and not ME as a person. She didn't want to 'learn' how to deal with me if I really did have ADHD lmao and thought I just need to fucking get over my actual friend that I was supporting daily through their mental health struggles dying. Nevermind that my grandpa and another friend have died since I last spoke to her and I am still fine.

She kept talking about how she missed her friend and how I wasn't her friend. Fair enough, her friend would just roll over and suffer with a smile no matter how many times she hurt her. She kept saying how she wanted us to go back to how things used to be.

Truthfully? I wish she would just. Fucking apologise for hurting me all these years. But that's a pipe dream so frankly I just want her to do the fucking bare minimum and acknowledge my feelings are real. But see, if I tell her about my feelings and it hurts her because its not packaged in a nicely logical way, it's emotional manipulation and I intend to hurt her!! So like. Guess to her, nothing I ever feel is real.

She didn't want me to think of her as a horrible person and I didn't, not even after I finally named my pain. But her choosing to walk away, choosing to say none of this is real hence it can't be her fault- I can't still think of her as anything but horrible.

And she gets off scott free from any consequence while I continue to suffer because of her. It's fucked up.

I'll be fine, though. Withdrawals are nothing compared to the three years she put me through.

I wish she could be a better person. She can't, because she already thinks she's God's gift or something. I still wish; every god damn day.

#personal ramblings #cw: heavy #cw: mental health #cw: antidepressants #cw: withdrawal #cw: friendship breakups #i just need to let this out. to say this is what i went through and im not lying and i own this as my truth #hopefully then i can stop hurting about it