#like that's a literal fucking child????
Text
i see this jason todd who actually looks his very young age (instead of the 30yr old man that comics like to portray)
and feel my heart breaking just imagining bruce beating him up, almost killing him, mind-breaking him, and just overall being a total piece of shit father towards him.
a huge chunk of the reason why people don't view bruce's actions towards jason as abusive or wrong is because jason doesn't look his age. he's drawn to be this 35yr old father of three who looks even older than dick (and way too on par with bruce) that people see their fights as one between batman and any of his regular rogues. when they fight, it just looks like batman is fighting a man his age and not an actual young person. it doesn't look like batman is fighting his son who's barely even drinking age (and who def wasn't drinking age in utrh). their fights are portrayed in a way that eliminates the very real power struggle between them.
this applies to jason's entire character as well. a lot of people don't sympathize with how he died or his actions as robin or his fights with the other bats because he doesn't look his age. he always looks older and scarier than everyone else. tim has many sympathizers from the titans tower incident because jason just looked like a grown man fighting a 12yr old (even tho i disagree, tim was built and like 17 lmfao).
anyways, i just wish comics would actually draw jason to look his age, which literally ranges from 19 to early twenties. he's young- so young, and it's so annoying to see him drawn and written as someone older than even bruce.
#the way everyone in jason's robin run saw him as this adult despite him being 12-15#like what the fuck#just because a child has experienced more than the average adult doesn't make him any less of a child#it's like the typical groomer thought process#if jason was shown younger in arkham knigjt for example there'd be less people calling him whiny#they showed 15yr old jason's torture scenes like he was a 25 yr old#he should've been shown as the small child he was#it would've put more perspective into how cruel and fucked it was of the rogues to torture a literal child#and then bruce almost killing him in rhato...#now imagine if jason looked his age there#honestly this all just feeds into the idea that jason feels too small for his big body#imagine being this tiny kid growing up and then dying and coming back to life as this tank#arghhhhh!!!!!#jason todd#red hood#batman#jason peter todd#bruce wayne#jason todd deserves better
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto
synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues
a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33
”holy shit!”
the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.
”satoru, it’s too early for this...”
”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.
your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.
(snowing.)
with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.
satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.
maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.
it’s beautiful.
satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.
all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.
the first snow of the year.
and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.
there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.
like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.
and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.
(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.
and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s lucky.)
high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.
and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.
a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.
he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.
— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.
satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.
(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)
”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”
he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.
it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.
so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.
satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.
”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.
”never.”
a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.
a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”
and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.
his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”
his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.
he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.
when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.
you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.
hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.
satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.
because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.
what more could a man want?
”hey, idiots!”
the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.
”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”
”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.
suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.
(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)
with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.
”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.
then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”
satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”
a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”
a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”
and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”
satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.
despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”
”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.
”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”
satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.
suguru sighs.
”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”
his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.
he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.
when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.
the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.
(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.
and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)
suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.
when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.
that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.
”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.
satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”
but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”
a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”
you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”
a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.
and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.
his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.
and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.
(i'm sorry, you big baby.)
satoru grins.
you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.
”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”
he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”
”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”
”and don’t play dumb, either.”
a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”
said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.
and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.
”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”
satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”
you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”
”hmph.”
suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.
and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.
that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.
this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.
(married.)
sometimes he still can’t believe it.
”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”
and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.
and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.
your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.
his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.
(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)
and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.
a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.
and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.
”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”
”— you’re disgusting.”
the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.
and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.
you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.
then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”
”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.
silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.
”… santa can only do so much, baby.”
two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.
”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”
you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”
”of course not! blasphemy.”
a moment passes.
”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”
a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.
then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.
he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.
and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.
he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.
for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?
(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)
— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.
it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.
and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.
warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.
he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.
and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.
he hopes it never goes away.
#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3#i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother#i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u#but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it#and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child#im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x reader x gojo#gojo fluff#geto fluff#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#……… thats… a lot of tags.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Prompt:
It’s not that Jason forgot, per se.
But between smuggling a toddler out of the League of Assassins, trekking halfway across the world, and finding a suitable hiding place that’s also child friendly… well, it kind of slipped his mind that he’s supposed to be… dead.
Something that comes back to bite him in the ass when he takes Dami out for some ice cream and just so happens to run into non other than Brucie-fucking-Wayne
#look I’ve found a new fave trope and it’s Brucie Wayne having to keep up his act while internally LOSING HIS SHIT#Jason isn’t very into the whole revenge thing here#his mind is 85 parts ‘keep Dami safe’ 5 parts ‘kill joker asap’ and 10 parts ‘avoid bats at any cost’#Jason doesn’t know who Damian’s father is#dealer’s choice if Jason establishes himself as Dami’s dad or older brother#his build certainly makes him look old enough#if you don’t look at his baby face lol#Jason runs into Brucie and goes straight into survival mode#Damian who is very observant for a toddler immediately clocks Brucie as THREAT based on Jason’s reaction#Brucie blue screens and desperately tries not to lose Jason in the crowd#jason is absolutely trying to lose Brucie in the crowd#while clutching Damian like his life depends on it#for all he knows it does#the visceral terror that your pseudo dad will take away your little brother/baby#Bruce who just wants to know if he’s hallucinating again: W A I T#jason who is terrified of being put in Arkham for killing people: no FUCKING WAY#hm maybe Jason plays the ‘I’m not Jason’ game again#it’s not gonna hold for long#but Bruce absolutely thinks that Damian is Jason’s bio child for a while and he’s on the WARPATH#Jason was sixteen when he died and never showed any interest in dating so literally every red flag is waving in brucie’s mind simultaneousl#or maybe Jason manages to get away and all Brucie is left with is the memory of his supposedly dead son#running away from him#and clutching a tiny kid#prompts#jason todd#batfamily#Damian wayne#batdad#brucie wayne
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Prompt 297
“I feel like we should be concerned about Tim.”
“Honestly we should always be concerned about him, but what made you realize it this time?”
“Have you seen his search history- wait no you haven’t you haven’t been in the cave all day, look at this-”
“...'Is it legal to adopt the ghost of a kid? Can someone call CPS on a family’s ghost? How to take care of ghosts 101? How do you get a ghost of a child to not be scared? What to do if you find ghost children in your home? What the fuck…?”
“Exactly, I think he needs an intervention.”
Or in other words, after getting thrown into another dimension thanks to the GIW destroying most of Amity, a trio of ghost children decide to crash in this seemingly abandoned apartment building. No one seems to live here anyway…
Tim Drake on the other hand, gets a notification that there’s someone in his main safehouse that he might’ve slightly forgotten about thanks to having his house-boat now, and sees a trio of starved looking ghost kids
#DCxDP#DPxDC#Prompts#De aged Danny#De aged Jazz#De aged Dan#Not seen is Ellie also there but in Core form because she’s too unstable to form a body again yet#Tim’s family is concerned for his sanity#Tim calling his co-dependent hero friends like Kon & Bart: How do you get a child- wait no not like that#Bernard is laughing at him on the phone & asking for pics#The ghost kids have no clue they’ve been adopted yet#They’re hella traumatized & just relieved to have found shelter#Might cry in the very comfortable blankets#Tim: Okay how the fuck do I help these literal dead kids without scaring them away#Tim: Someone call Greta I need her help-
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
god i haven't been on quora in ages but what the fuck
#i made an account years ago for some reason and I've been getting emails since and just haven't bothered unsubscribing#anyways i just got an email from like. someone's post asking for advice#and it just opened with 'my 3-year-old granddaughter is a narcissist'??????#like that's a literal fucking child????#3 years old??????#of course they don't give much of a fuck abt other people they're still learning how to give a fuck abt themselves!!!!#i was 5 when i first realised other people had Thoughts! let the kid fucking grow up instead of posting abt them on the internet#as if you expect them to be as mature as an adult!!!!#GOD#sorry for the rant that just pissed me off. why do people not fucking understand kids
0 notes
Text
kpop stans literally have no backbone LMAOOO when skz gets hate for collaborating with more and more zionists because as we can see they are VERY well welcomed by stays, dont come crying. what a useless fandom. literally we had one job and it’s to NOT platform a zionist and an israeli settler but nooooooo 💔💔💔 people are losing their jobs and students are being arrested for protesting against israel but 90% of stays cant even boycott ONE song.
it’s not a coincidence that zionists are infiltrating kpop i need u to PLEASE utilize ur critical thinking skills and realize that those zionist brands/artists/companies are looking for new audiences to gain since they’re being shunned away. this is only the beginning this isn’t a matter of supporting skz alone PLEASE
it could’ve been you born in palestine and it would’ve been your people and family and friends and loved ones that are genocied. and then you’d be the one asking people to not platform zionists and to shame them but oh well. good luck living life being this fucking spineless
#im literally seething this is so fucking crazy#bottom line so many stays are zionists and if not zionism apologists which is just as bad#do you guys even follow what israel is doing because i cant fathom reading just about ONE massacre that happened this past 7 months#or seeinf one mother crying for her child or a journalist weeping for his colleague or an old man crying for his wife#and supporting this collab like#please if u’ll listen to this if you’ll interact with its shit then block me gtfo#i dont like you at all and you are part of the problem#tags directed at those stays specifically#stray kids#skz
467 notes
·
View notes
Text
okay so steph is definitely a music purist?
we can all agree on that right? like she's a 'said she was born in the wrong generation in middle school' fleetwood mac, david bowie, the mamas & the papas, niche modern indie artists and also chappell roan kind of music listener. obviously. but.... i dont think we've really considered pete's music taste?
pete, who is a science, left-brained kind of kid, so he probably does not actively go out to look for music and is instead just provided music by the people around him?
pete whose older brother is theodore spankoffski and so his earliest and most fond and nostalgic music influences from his childhood would have come directly from ted's cd collection???
basically what im saying is peter spankoffski has the most trashy, early 00's ke$ha, black eyed peas my humps era, all american rejects ass music taste in the world
that boy had bowling for soup's 1985 memorized at age four, his guilty pleasure music is hollywood undead's everywhere i go, ted did his first decent person move in years when pete came out as trans as a kid and stopped listening to grow a pear by ke$ha and pete forcibly made him play it because it's a bop
and then his only friends are a weeb and a theatre kid.
steph gives him the aux cord on a date to be nice, as a sign of trust, and is blasted in the face with the most uncurated mess of j-pop, sondheim, weezer, and like... owl city's fireflies and that's just a fact
#I must clarify this isn’t a dig at any of these songs they all fuck#my source is im a youngest child with a decently older brother and all of my nostalgic music is literally this#my mom had to force my brother to limit what songs he played around me because I was six years old and started saying the word hoe a lot#peter spankoffski#also my hc is Pete is teds full brother so their parents are just Old and Pete stood NO chance#he grew up around Dickhead Era Ted and a dad who forced him to name classic rock bands when they came on the radio#and also my source is my music taste is also the peoples around me because im bad at finding music#nerdy prudes must die#stephanie lauter#starkid#lautski#he also probably really likes train
501 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have a simple fascination and joy in the thought that, for the Ghost King AU, most of the time Danny is literally so normal compared to other ghosts.
Like, he’s a kid. He looks like a kid. Going by canon appearances, he is the most human looking ghost we see (aside from Ellie). Even Plasmius is more inhuman, which is where all the vampire jokes come from. Every single one of this enemies is off even in a human disguise. They’re not human, and people don’t expect them to be.
So aside from the implications of Danny looking like a child ghost, I wonder what other characters would think if they summon the Ghost King, expecting this huge monstrosity worse than anything they’ve ever seen, and getting a totally normal human-looking kid.
I’d be terrified. Because if horror movies have taught us anything, it’s that the most innocent and normal looking people are the worst monsters you’ve ever seen.
Like, what is he hiding??
#danny phantom#pondhead rambles#just a thought#if I tried summoning the ghost king I’d be ready to face an eldritch god not a teenager#and let’s just imagine he’s doesn’t have a creepy form at all#literally just looks the same as canon all the time#if a kid showed up in place of a monster? hell no#I’m outta there#something is wrong and I’m not dealing with it#Danny doesn’t set off the uncanny valley feeling at all but because people THINK that the feeling should be there#the lack of it is making people’s nerves worse#no ‘oh shit we fucked up why is there a kid he can’t possibly be the ghost king’#more like ‘oh shit we fucked up what kind of ghost king looks like a human teen we are way out of our depths’#these thoughts come from me playing video games and immediately being on guard when a lone child is in a place they should not be#like I’m ready to fight monsters and bad guys#children? fuck that they’re obviously going to kill me in the worst way possible
507 notes
·
View notes
Text
ohhh so this saga just will not end, okay!!!
last month I started an emergency fundraiser because the situation with my neighbor, who has been showing stalker-like behavior, escalated to the point where I no longer felt safe staying in my apartment. here's that original post
I'd remade my tiktok a few weeks ago after several years of inactivity to use for venting & vlogging. it had like no followers + just two videos uploaded. I got this text immediately after I saw him at the top of the stairs to the ground floor as I was coming back in from checking the mail. I had the "find by contacts" shit all turned off so idk HOW he found my tiny nothing tiktok (it's privated now) but he decided to send me this message about it. some of the things he mentioned in the text (like listening at my door???? I said listening to hear my door open/close but not listening at it) aren't even things I talked about which is also raising some alarm bells.
I haven't responded to his texts in months but he continues to send them and now it's shit like this. I am truly beyond words. it's incredible how the second he is confronted with how weird his behavior is I am "evil". I didn't film him, I didn't post any identifying information other than "my creepy upstairs neighbor" and now he is mad that the shoe fits when he's the one that tried it on.
My lease is up at the end of the month regardless, and I'm hunting for apartments actively. I need to get out of here, and I'm doing everything in my power to do that, but I need help with application fees, transportation and moving costs, and a deposit. I'm seeing a place on the 11th (tomorrow, as of when I write this) that seems promising and really hope it ends up being the one. I'm sorry I've had to post about this so much, but mutual aid has legitimately been the only way I have ever been able to pull myself out of a hole like this. even just a few dollars does help.
v3nm0 is alumirust
c4sh4pp is $doppelgougar
p@yp44l is [email protected]
buy some of my art
GFM fundraiser link
#could it be that I- a chaser harassing this random trans person- am in the wrong?#No. It's clearly the random trans person I have arbitrarily decided is everything I need in life despite being young enough to be my child#who is at fault here!#fucking. hell.#he knows I have ptsd from domestic violence btw I talked about it to him once before he was overtly creepy and i thought i could trust him#he literally started being worse AFTER that and i was like oh. oh that was a mistake and im naive.#idk its a nightmare i really want to be over with soon
480 notes
·
View notes
Text
aptx!kaito au in which Shinichi doesn't know aptx exists and feels insane that his leading theory is "a six year old is the mastermind behind Kaitou Kid"
#no I don't know how this would logically work I just thought it'd be funny#and yes this would fuck up countless meetings and character arcs but consider: the CHAOS#this au is a gift to me from me bc ch1120 is making me pop a vein and I needed a pick-me-up <3#Shinichi humbling arc but it's because he keeps getting outsmarted by (what he thinks is) a literal 6 yo#(given that he never ran into the org and doesn't know shrinking is possible plus Kaito is much better at acting like a normal child)#and KID gets to bully Shinichi. as a treat#pls don't look at the drawing too closely ajdhhdhd tis just a dood in this cheap little notebook I got as a handout#somehow I find it easier to draw in places other than my sketchbook... less pressure to do it well and fill up all the blank space I guess#kuroba kaito#kaitou kid#kid the phantom thief#kudou shinichi#jimmy kudo#does anyone even call him that anymore it's so cursed. JIMMY#dcmk#detective conan#magic kaito#detco#idk what to call this au...#kinda want it to have something to do w the 'the truly impossible' sherlock quote hmmm#redefining the improbable AU#maybe?#shrunken!kaito#aptx!kaito
359 notes
·
View notes
Text
I got- I can't!
Imagine being 15, you've grown up your whole life with this one belief in this one God and you were told you were Chosen by Him, for Him. And you're 15. You believe so fully in the spirit of your religion, not necessarily the word, that you want to go to a non-religious school to try and help other kids maybe find your God because you genuinely believe that could be helpful to some of them, because it's all you know, and it's helped other strangers (human trafficking victims she helped in the black pit before) so why not other kids her age? You're 15 and all you can think about is helping others. And you start thinking about your religion, and reading books, and asking questions and you come to the conclusion that maybe your God and His Father aren't actually all that great. Maybe the church you're in has done some really bad things that you can't possibly make up for. Maybe that church is still doing bad things. And then you find out your family is actually in a cult for that God, not just part of the normal church, and you suddenly have to undo all the cult shit in your brain you were raised with, while that cult stuff you know about is actually useful to your friends, like having that knowledge is helpful for them! You're 15 and you stop going home. You have no real adult supervision or carer, just your other 15 year old friends.
Imagine you're 16, you're gay and figuring that out on top of navigating your first full romantic relationship and being the sole creator and cleric to a new God that you honestly find to be very two dimensional and empty. You're on a quest to find an evil being and stop them. You nearly die. Your friends nearly die. You're 16. You're 16 and feel something calling out to you, you know it's divine because you've felt that sort of pull before, but you've never felt one like this. You find memories and hints and pieces and you figure out that the evil being you have to stop, isn't evil, she's just hurting. She's hurt and She's a God. She's your God, and she's so happy to see you, and she has so many ideas, and so many hopes.
You're 17. You've spent your rest time (summer vacation) tearing across the world chasing down and defeating another evil thing that you and your friends accidentally released in the first place. Your God is with you, you have no time for Her. No time for anything but trying to survive and stay sane. You know She's disappointed in you, but you're one person -ONE PERSON- and you're 17. You missed your birthday. again. You've saved the world; again. You're so fucking tired -like always. You're Chosen, and alone, and have no idea what to do with your life, let alone your God. You aren't very good at school, but you go to every class. You're drowning as you try to rewrite your understanding of the world from what you grew up with, having no idea how to do anything without a book and godly hand to guide you. You only ever followed before, your new God is demanding you Lead. You don't know how. You're only 17. You see your horrible, abusive parents spitting abuse and racist rhetoric at your baby brother, who you haven't seen in two years, on the front steps to your school and for the first time ever you are filled with righteous fury. Your God answers your call, not knowing what you need but so eager to help, eager for your attention, she starts talking to you but you're busy -why can't she understand that you're fucking busy? trying to not die, trying to be safe, trying to keep your friends alive, trying to navigate a world that hates you, you're 17 and you're busy goddammit just wait!- and she snaps back at you and flees. The next time you see Her, maybe an hour later, She's got a creature with Her that nearly destroyed you and your friends last year sitting in her lap, so smug to see you again.
You're 17- no, 16- no, 15 years old and you're expected to build and carry the world on your shoulders, Chosen from birth, raised a lamb to follow a Shepard, not to be followed behind. You have no one and nothing and everyone expects everything and you can't back up, you can't pause because if you do someone dies and doesn't come back. You have to be a hero, a chosen, a saint. The steps behind you crumble to dust with each step you take forward and the new one is already cracking under your weight. There are only wrong choices. There's no hand reaching for you. God, you were taught, will save and guide you. God knows best. Why is your God looking to you, a mortal human, to be saved, raised and guided? You're a child.
You're just a child.
You just want to go home, wherever that is. You thought it was your God, but She's not exactly helping you out either, is She? She's just disappointed. Like everyone else. Like you.
You're 17. You think it would have been better to never do any of this. It would have been easier to stay, blind and naive. Sometimes you think you should have stayed in heaven. Sometimes you think about the God you killed by not being good enough for it. Sometimes you lay on the floor and stare at the ceiling and pretend you don't exist for awhile. Sometimes you work your body so hard you forget it's there and your mind shuts up and you exist without being you. Sometimes you wish you never asked any questions or read any books. You're 17, but sometimes you wish you were 15, with no idea yet.
You're 17. You wish you were good enough.
#dimension 20#kristen applebees#fantasy high junior year#fhjy#d20 fhjy#fhjy spoilers#dimension 20 fhjy#dimension 20 fantasy high#d20 fantasy high#dimension 20 spoilers#words#can you tell my religious trauma is popping off?#I have big feelings about kristen#she's just a kid man leave her alone#it's not fair for a god to expect a child to be able to perform what many adults do over many years in just the span of a few months#yeah it's not fair cassandra has had the lot of getting a child for her only cleric but like#she reached out to and accepted kristen! she the God here! it's like when a grown adult expects a toddler to know to not run into a road#without being taught. that's a baby#she's gonna run into the road many times until someone takes her hand and kindly teaches her to not#kristen litterally needs some kinda reliable help. she knows there's something wrong and that she's fucking it up she just literally doesn'#know how to fix it! someone help her!!!#fantasy high
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
imagine being so insensitive that you would blame a child for their death and openly talk about how badly behaved they were right in front of their grave. oh and on said child's birthday-- the day he would've turned 18 years old. you spend your first official late child's 18th birthday calling him brash and impulsive, implying he got himself murdered, instead of mourning the fact that today is the day your dead son would've reached a major milestone in his life.
#bruce going to jason's grave and not even looking the least bit sad is fucking insane#he looked so indifferent to it#just casually talking to one of his other kids about how much the second robin had it coming unfortunately#like that is your fucking son#you adopted that child#to say something as vain as -oh he liked cars and girls- is crazy#like that's all you know about your little boy?? a kid who blindly trusted you with his entire life#oh and that he liked ice cream#woo hoo#when has bruce ever actually rejoiced his child's life and talked about jason's personality positively#when has he never talked to his other kids about jason in a way that actually appreciated him#it's the literal bare minimum of what he owes jason#jason todd#red hood#batman#bruce wayne#jason peter todd#dc#dc comics
369 notes
·
View notes
Note
what is the theory that ivan manipulated the event where till and mizi met the wagyein?
It's not a theory, actually! It's confirmed that Ivan orchestrated the whole event. The true reason as to why however is still unknown. The information provides more context to this scene, though:
During the earlier times of ALNST the most rational explanation for this scene was that Till ran after a flower crown (presumably Mizi's) and Ivan followed him in out of curiosity. Now we know that Ivan was conveniently just standing there because he was waiting.
Side note, I find it heartbreaking (and maybe a little funny, sorry) that Till most likely didn't notice Ivan in this scene. That's just like him, isn't it. Always too busy running after Mizi while Ivan trails behind, an ever-present shadow.
I'm not sure how Ivan manipulated the circumstances for both of them to end up there, but it is confirmed that everything was intentional. What strikes me most is how they describe this particular scene:
I can't copy down what they said word-for-word (Patreon info), but they described Ivan watching "creepily" as Till and Mizi are faced with danger. We know that Ivan was familiar with the Cerberus wagyein beforehand, enough to touch its teeth and even to rest himself inside its maw. To Ivan, the wagyein is not dangerous, but to Till and Mizi, it could be. Ivan prepared the wagyein, led them there, and watched "creepily" from afar as Till fell on his knees, seemingly injured.
The closest I can get to making sense of Ivan's "scheme" is that he wanted to see how other children would react in a dangerous situation. Ivan's always been an observer, after all, and he's learned to survive by copying the more "normal" behaviors of his peers. This situation occured when Ivan was still young and had not yet developed his more charming mask, so perhaps he staged this encounter to study a situational response, to learn and mimic the emotion of fear. And what better subjects for the experiment than two of the most expressive and reactive humans of their batch? It helps that he was already fixated on Till beforehand, too. I think Ivan became irreversibly obssessed after this incident, especially since it's framed as a turning point in Ivan's life, comparing Till to the stars.
This is just my attempt at an interpretation, though. It could very well be for another reason. He most likely chose Till and Mizi specifically for personal reasons, not just for reaction. I'm still not sure on the purpose behind the whole thing.
The team wanted to capture Ivan's "dark emotions" through the shot of his stalking, which could relate to his more sinister intentions. His gaze can be read in a few different ways, though. Curiosity, interest, fear, etc. Maybe that's why they decided to redraw the shot in ROUND 6.
I think this better sells the feeling they were trying to convey.
#ivan u fucked up little guy.#also okay i just wanna clear this up#i know i make a lot of posts about ivans darker side and his more problematic traits#but this isn't me trying to villainize him or reduce him down to “toxic yaoi”#I HOPE YOU GUYS KNOW ALL MY TOXIC YAOI POSTS ARE LIGHTHEARTED.#i just want to clarify that ivan was always intended to be a darker and complicated character. even since his debut in round 3#the way i refer to ivan (“twisted” “creepy” “obssessive” etc) are literally the direct words used by q and v themselves to describe him#but despite that id like to emphasize that i don't see ivan as a villain or a completely bad person. hes complicated#there is no normalcy in this world they are living in. none of the characters know what being truly normal is#this isn't me condoning his actions#but it has to be acknowledged that alnst is fucked up in nature. we can't expect perfect relationships from people who are born to die#plus ivan has a lot more layers past the “dark” parts. he's constantly battling himself and his desires#especially at the end of round 6 where he performs a myriad of conflicting actions (kiss strangle peck smile)#thanks to the r6 production notes we now know that ivan was going through a rapid internal conflict#“sure and unsure at the same time”#there is sooo much to ivan. his low self-esteem. his desire and possessiveness despite knowing till will never love him#his VEHEMENT insistence that till will never love him vs his desperate persistence in trying anyway#uh i need to shut up i think#anyways sorry. just wanted to clarify my thoughts on him in case people think im. yk.#in short. hes a fucked up little freak and he fascinates me. this poor tragic child. i love him.#SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY#alnst#alien stage#alien stage ivan#alnst ivan#asks
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
leans out a window. it is not salem’s fault that oz uses child soldiers to guard his fortresses. it’s not her fault that he made a deliberate strategic choice to recruit children into a war they didn’t even know they’re fighting. (and it certainly isn’t her fault that he’s been getting kids killed in training for decades before she made her first move!)
he has been trying to destroy her for thousands of years while salem lived in exile, not fighting back, until one of those grown-up child soldiers found out the truth and gave her something to fight for. if your defenders are all children because you set up your fortresses to masquerade as schools, if you for decades continually made the choice to use children as unwitting human shields then you don’t get to blame the enemy when children die on the front lines. YOU PUT THEM THERE.
#meanwhile the youngest of salem’s handpicked agents is in her mid-twenties when the war begins#children start training for the huntsmen academies at thirteen AT THE OLDEST…#rhodes thought nothing of training cinder for the academies when she was TEN.#literally fanon salem is just people blaming her for the fucked up system oz created because she…goes to war to tear it down#like no. sorry. the one using almost exclusively child soldiers is the one responsible for children dying in battle. she’s right.
116 notes
·
View notes
Text
Prompt in Memes 4
Another prompt, but in memes because trying to gather my thoughts is hard sometimes lol.
#prompts#memes#batman au#batman#cryptid batman#cryptid batfam#cryptid batfamily#batfamily#batfam prompts#batfam#Bruce: This surely will be fine :)#Dick: Gotham made me like they made B :)#League: the what did what now#Barbara: I formed from his tech & could get away with all your murders :)#Jason: I am the embodiment of Crime Alley and Retribution :)#Cass: I am Gotham's shadow :)#Tim: Oh I'm a child :)#The league: Oh thank fuck a normal child-#Tim: Well at least my body is a child but TECHNICALLY-#Steph: I'm his twin and the other side of his Chaos :)#Duke: Hi I'm the Bat Signal :)#Damian: I am the blood son#The League: Oh gods he means that literally doesn't he like some sort of creature made entirely from blood-#Bruce: I am not sure why I expected this Not to escalate but it's too far to go back now#Why yes they can all fit in his cape even when they become older and no one knows how or why#If they even age I mean Gotham could just be Like that where people sometimes stop aging#Kind of like what's going on in Fawcett just more goth#meme
488 notes
·
View notes
Text
My grown ass reading Battle of the Labyrinth for the first time mood board
#why is the children’s series fucking me up#this is what happens when you don’t finish the books as a kid#and then pick them back up in your 20s#it’s depressing and stressful af#because the characters are like my sisters age or younger#so it registers different when you’re older than them then when you’re younger than/their age#:(#imagine having to let your family member who’s a literal child go and get themselves killed by mythical beings#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo series
151 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tempural
scumsuck art
maxa-shapkina-blog
Без названия
detudovoceveaqui
De Tudo Você Vê Aqui
gadaka-blog
GADAKA
radiovendas
Rádio Vendas com Leandro Branquinho