have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.
Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.
You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.
You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.
The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.
It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.
Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.
All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.
jason todd has a hoodie. the hoodie. oversized with sleeves long enough he can pull them down to swallow his hands when he’s anxious. thick, jersey knit cotton in a rich red that’s been worn down and washed out to something more faded. a deep hood that can block out the world down to what’s in front of him. a front pocket big enough to fit a medium sized paperback. it’s a feature he’s abused often. the elbows are worn soft, not thin, and it’s perfectly broken in, fibres soft from heavy use.
it’s his favourite hoodie. one of the first things he bought just for himself after his resurrection. the first bit of creature comfort he had allowed himself. a little silly, but it feels like a magic charm. he pulls it over his head fresh from the dryer and poof, nothing bad can touch him.
that’s why when he drops it into your lap one day, it means something. his two lucky charms, bundled up together. you run covetous hands over the thick material, still warm from his skin, and he knows he’s gonna be finding it draped around you in the future. the hoodie finds itself in the bedroom floor time after time but jason doesn’t really mind. he’ll just pop it in the wash on the regular cycle, then in the dryer with the wool dryer balls you cajoled him into getting, and it’ll be good as new. ready and waiting to work its magic whenever he needs it.
Strong-Targaryen!Reader x Addam of Hull
MDNI
CW: Angst, power imbalance, s-xually suggestive themes, bastard drama, star-crossed lovers.
Addam of Hull had never felt so seen. Not until the day you put your eyes to him. Even Seasmoke hadn’t made him stand as still as your smile had.
An instant draw. Something instant. Powerful.
The mutual passion of two bastards in a place so hallowed as Dragonstone. Almost embarrassing in its predictability.
Your lips trailing his jaw, his palms flat on your back. Laces undone and clothing pooling around your ankles. All is right in the hour of the wolf. All is quiet, all is right. Addam can pretend he is just a man and you are just a woman. Two lovers tangled in a bed too large to sleep alone in.
That was how it started. And for many nights after, it was how it stayed. Alas, night always turned to dawn.
Addam could still feel your fingernails pressing into his back. A sting that made the pleasure of your night together all the more intoxicating.
But as he broke fast, all he felt was guilt.
Your mother had let him sleep where only Princes had laid, gave him a place at her table. He knew that this was wrong of him. It was easier for him to remember this in the daylight, when he awoke alone in a bed of silk and the smell of you still lingering around him. Addam would wash his face and stare into his reflection in the mirror thinking: ‘No good can come of this.’
And then night would fall, your shy knocking would sound behind his door and he would let you in. The taste of your kiss and the song of your pleasure would erase all his worries. The cycle continuing on and on… until this night.
You came to him dressed in a robe of blue velvet and nothing else. Love made you bold. Addam could not stop your lips from touching his own. Not because you threw yourself at him, but because of his own selfishness. ‘One last kiss,’ he swore. And then one turned into three, then the tie of your robe came loose. Control found him just before he cupped your bare breasts.
“We cannot carry on like this,” he says as he breaks the kiss “It’s wrong.”
Undeterred, your arms slip over his broad shoulders and you try to pull him closer, “Addam, you say this nearly every night.” His hands feel warm, almost hot, against your hips as he keeps you from pushing yourself flush against him.
Normally, he would laugh and lift you from your feet like a groom to his bride. Not tonight. His expression was tight, jaw tense. Your cheeky grin fell, “Addam?”
Addam closes his eyes as your hand cups his cheek. If he were a stronger man, he could push you away. Perhaps say something cruel to break your heart and end this affair. Addam damns himself as he leans into your touch, “I know I do. What I say is true no matter how many times we ignore it.”
“What we do is only wrong if anyone besides you or I know of it. And nobody has to know,” you coax. Something about his tone, his words, it bothers you. It’s like he’s lecturing you on morality. You get enough of that from your mother.
He finally works up the nerve to take his hands off of you, stepping back from your partially nude form. Addam focuses hard on your face, “You deserve better than to be my secret.”
“I am the one who decides what I deserve, Addam,” you scoff. Your confidence was your most attractive trait in his opinion. He had to remind himself what he was meant to do.
“And what if I don’t want to be a secret either? I’ve lived all my life that way,” he challenged with a tense jaw. “What’s the point in living out another lie? To live in shame, again?”
You step closer, your hands take his. Bastards like him… and like you, all that you are is someone’s secret passions made flesh. “You are not alone in those feelings, Addam. We’ve spoken on this. I don’t want us to be lovers in the shadows for all time. I want you. I... We both—“
“—We are not the same and you know that,” he forces his hands to break your hold on him.
You close your robe tight and reply, “If you want this to end, I will honor that. But not if you are doing this just to protect me. Or the fucking throne. It has to be what you want. We started this as two people. We should end it the same way.”
This was his chance. He could be a better man and set you free. Free to marry a good Lord of a good House. Addam may have a dragon and place at the Queen’s table, but he knew he could never have you. Not like he wanted to. Addam crosses his arms over his chest and says, “You lived all your life as a Princess, the Iron Throne will be yours one day. There is no room for me beside you on the throne, nor in your bed. I will happily bend my knee to you but that is all we can afford.”
Your nostrils flare and you glare into his face, “You’re still just protecting me.”
“I want you to go back to your rooms, and when day breaks, we forget each other’s touch. I want this to end,” he hates the way his voice sounds in his ears. Like Lord Corlys, barking orders as his ship leaves the docks. Prideful, cold.
The anger in your eyes is still burning hot, even as your expression cools. “So it shall be. Goodnight, Addam of Hull.”
You tighten the sash of your robe and leave him to sleep in a bed too big and a room too empty.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
It's raining nonstop where I am so I'm just picturing the Batfam during a flood.
Red Robin uploads a TikTok from the safety of a roof saying "watch him go!" As Red Hood keeps trying to drive his bike against the current. A big wave comes by and he's slowly dragged downhill. The caption reads "don't drive during floods".
Batman and Robin are on the ground helping civilians out of cars when the intensity doubles and in minutes Damian goes from wading knee deep in the water to swimming. The emergency batfloaties get triggered and he floats away as Bruce fails to grab him by half an inch. "Robin serenely drifting in the current" becomes a meme.
Someone takes a picture of a very flustered spoiler trying to squeeze the water out of her cape. The second she lets go the weight of the water makes her fall ass over backwards. Black Bat ends up giving her her waterproof cape.
Signal makes mirages of sharks in the water to scare the shit out of any criminals. Oracle uploads the recordings with Benny hill as background music. Bludhaven escapes the worst of the storm and Nightwing sends pictures to the group chat patting the barely wet concrete just to rub it in. He still slips on a puddle and eats shit, Barbara sends that to the group chat.
Gojo dalit tha
call me the fucking ~internet police~ BUT I DIDN’T KNOW UNTIL TODAY THAT THERE’S LITERALLY A COMMUNITY OF “PEDOPHILE POSITIVITY” ON THIS HELLSITE
THERE ARE PEOPLE OPENLY ADMITTING THAT THEY ARE ATTRACTED TO CHILDREN/CONSUMING CHILD PORN ON THIS WEBSITE!?!??! THERE’S 13 YEAR OLDS ON HERE!!!
so my dudes, how to flag “maps” (minor attracted people aka pedophiles)
1. click “flag this blog”
2. click “this violates tumblr’s community guildlines”
3. click “someone is at risk of harm”
4. click “harm to minors”
5. type “pedophile” in the box
(james wilson x gn!reader)
you get divorced
My favourite feminist