[crownedgrief]

⎯ 𝓚at. ⠀⠀ׄ ֪⠀ 𖣂 seventeen .ᐟ.ᐟ

( 🩰⠀ ) frank langdon and trinity santos apologist. overly enthusiastic shipper. really into superheroes. Ꮺ ryland grace orbiter. writer girl. cat lover. anakin skywalker & obi-wan kenobi kisser. kara zor-el’s girlfriend. (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)

── masterlist pinterest letterboxd

[crownedgrief]

goodnight technoblade. i miss you❤️

[stainedlove]

. ꕤ ｡ ˚⋆ ⠀ after years of loneliness, peter finally found comfort in someone. in you. your presence. your calming touch. the warmth you brought to his cold apartment everytime you visited him. coffee getting cold in the kitchen counter because he fell asleep and you were stuck with his head on your lap. broken confessions. stollen kisses. moonlit deep talks on random rooftops. the forget-me-nots he always put behind your ear everytime you walked past them in the park. it became your favorite flower. the clumsy way he asked you to go live with him. "...please? i-i don't think i can live without you anymore." most nights he can't sleep thinking about you. wondering if you're in danger because of him. letting you into his life meant risking your safety, he knew that. and he told you that. a few times. but you never left him. and he can't bring himself to push you away like he has been doing with everyone else. he needed you like he needed air. so he promised himself he'd never let anything happen to you. and just this time, he will allow himself be selfish, and be with you. "i thought you'd never ask, tiger." that night he was finally able to sleep.

[crownedgrief]

just rinsed out my hair dye….

[conleches]

some fucking resources for all ur writing fuckin needs

body language masterlist

a translator that doesn’t eat ass like google translate does

a reverse dictionary for when ur brain freezes

550 words to say instead of fuckin said

638 character traits for when ur brain freezes again

some more body language help 

[crownedgrief]

i fucking love baguettes . French People went off with that one

[crownedgrief]

when i learned you have to stand at a lot of concerts due to money/availability i realized i would never go

[daystarpoet]

⊹ benjamin poindexter and his cheek scar

tw: foggy's death, alussion dex's stalker tendencies, written on my phone

It's a very particular spot of his body, and it's unlike any other scar he has. It's smaller than the one on his spine, but no less significant.

He got it, he's told you before, during a fight with Daredevil. That was a very significant night in Dex's life, you've learnt over time. He was out to kill Foggy Nelson and almost got himself killed in the process.

He fell from a rooftop with two big stab wounds. Dex was supposed to die, but he didn't. He got out with a scar on his cheek.

In your time dating Dex, you've begun noticing things about him. He keeps everything neat, cleaning every mug after he's used it and wiping the counter twice if he considers you hadn't cleaned it properly.

He always stands closer to doors and windows and insists you should stay next to him, near tables or couches for coverage.

He doesn't sleep much, and always tries his hardest not to wake you. He's remembered everything you've ever told him and even knows things you haven't said.

Dex is different from the men you've known before. He has a way of making you feel thrilled and on edge while comforting you like no other.

He's also better looking than your exes.

He's taller than you, and he's insanely muscular. He spends his days and nights throwing objects around, so his arms and back are more than exercised.

He has thin blond hair that just begs you to run your hands through it as you watch him melt.

And, goddamn, the scar on his cheek.

It lifts up together with the corner of his lip when he smirks—that's how you know he's plotting something.

He chews on the inside of it when he's nervous or bored, despite how many times you tell him to stop.

It makes him look dangerous, and it's soft to the touch. It's a sensitive part of his skin that makes him shiver when you place your fingers over it.

Dex sometimes rests his head on your chest at night, always with the scarred side facing upwards. You choose to take it a sign that he trusts you fully, like a pup showing its stomach.

And when you kiss it, everything fades. Every girl kisses her boyfriend's cheek, that's normal. However, you specifically choose to press your lips against the scar every time.

To him, it shows you love him. Benjamin Poindexter, Bullseye. The man he is when he's not trying to act in a socially acceptable way, the man he is when he lets himself be while watching you and trying to learn how to be good.

[crownedgrief]

quick everyone act surprised

[helen-was-here]

Me when Supergirl convinces the 13 year old not to kill the irredeemable villain because it would retraumatize her: yeah ok fair enough :/

Me when Supergirl kills the irredeemable villain herself the second Ruthye’s back is turned, thus ending the cycle of abuse without involving the terrified grieving child: YEAH OK FAIR ENOUGH :D

[crownedgrief]

talking with hypnos and yawning a million times when i wasn’t tired before 🥹🥹

[crownedgrief]

skin picking is so embarrassing omg

[crownedgrief]

been debating the placement for a tattoo for literally ever and what details to add...it literally came to me in a dream ٩(◕‿◕)۶

[crownedgrief]

If you can, please write something where the female reader gets shot in the crossfire while helping Kara and the team; when she sees what happened, she becomes desperate—just like when Krypto got hurt? 🥺

thank you for the request! this is such a common trope but i love it every time omg.... your request has been published here! i hope you enjoy <3

[crownedgrief]

wait for me. kara zor-el

# you get injured in the crossfire. kara will do anything to save your life—even endanger her own. # injured!reader blood # this fic was requested!

“Stay behind me,” you order, shoving Ruthye behind your back, her family’s sword heavy in your grip. Most of the fighting is done by effortless Kara. The stragglers aiming for Ruthye—that’s where the sword you have comes into play. A thrust here, a slash there and it’s enough to have them howling with blood spraying.

Krem differentiates himself from the group. He doesn’t let up after engaging you, each of his blows more powerful than the last. You grunt and stumble back, your sword harshly crossed over your face to guard against the press of his own weapon. 

“Give me the girl,” Krem hisses, his tongue flicking out over his lips.

“Never,” you growl back, shoving his sword up and away. Metal against metal blurs as the next hits ring out. Your arms burn from the unbalanced tugging weight of Ruthye’s sword. You can feel her presence a few feet behind you, an eye to the center of Kara’s storm. 

You inhale, raising your arms for the next blow, only to experience a sudden ripping pain in your side. A scream bursts from you, alerting Kara to your opponent. She swoops in and has dragged him off into the air before he can land another hit.

Ruthye rushes forward as you fall to one knee, teeth gritted in pain. Your gear isn’t strong enough to withstand such a direct, close-up hit.

“Are you alright?” she asks frantically.

“I—” you groan and look down, blinking the pained tears from your eyes. “I’m alright.”

“Take this.” Ruthye tugs off her jacket and wraps it around you. A look at your wound reveals it’s from some sort of blaster, the edges raw and green-tinged as the skin in the center oozes blood. You press the jacket against it with a grimace, attempting to at least staunch some of the bleeding.

Krem’s ship screams and groans as iron crumples, altering to its near collapse. Ruthye glances up with panic.

“Go,” you wheeze. “Get Kara.”

Ruthye nods once, determined, and bolts across the rock. You fall to both knees, breath labored. If nothing else, you refuse to die here, on this ground, with Krem’s allies behind you and the girls of his trafficking still trapped.

The world blurs, and you concentrate all your focus on staying awake. You aren’t sure how much time passes before Kara and Ruthye reappear, Kara’s worried hands clutching at your face.

“No, no, no,” she mutters worriedly. “Where is it, where are you hurt?”

“Kara…” you exhale, eyes fluttering shut. You lean into her warm hands. It feels so nice to have her touch you.

“No! No, stay awake,” she demands, voice trembling.

“Hurts,” you whisper.

“I know. I know, it’s okay, I’m here.”

Sound becomes jumbled as your consciousness slips. You hang onto Kara’s frantic words, her voice the same familiar one from long, late nights and sleepy mornings. You go weightless as you’re lifted and cradled to Kara’s chest. Safety buoys you in waves and you allow yourself to fully slide into the dark.

—

Kara’s arms begin to shake as she carries you. Leaving Ruthye behind, Kara flies, the wind resistance burning her face as she shoots for the nearest building. 

Hot blood stains her costume as she lowers you onto a table. You’re impossibly limp, head falling back. She can already feel the tell-tale burn of Kryptonite. Pulling back Ruthye’s jacket from your side, she’s unable to hold in the pained hiss through her teeth as the kryptonite becomes exposed to the air. Little glowing pinpricks embedded in your skin. A well of blood around each tiny wound. 

She digs rabidly through the house’s kitchen until she finds a tiny blade and pair of tweezers. Each move she makes is painstakingly slow. Her vision blurs and shakes as she works.

You scream. You scream and thrash and cry. Kara burns. Her skin aches and tightens as she works, digging into your side with a thin blade and a pair of tweezers. She can hardly breathe through the tightening of her chest. 

You scream again, and she wails in response, pure agony tearing through her throat. She pulls out another shard of Kryptonite, vision blurring as she attempts to throw it across the room. Blood spatters and drips from the new open wound and stains her skirt.

Kara shudders and the blade clatters to the floor. Her chest wheezes as she tries to regain her breath, vision spinning. She clutches the table you’re laid across. 

“...ara? Kara!”

Kara’s head lolls as she’s tugged backwards. Ruthye’s face, eyes wide, comes into view. Kara can see her lips moving, but the sound is distant and warbled as if her head is underwater.

She’s pulled back and out of the house by Ruthye who hooks her arms under Kara’s and drags her back, boots scoring the ground. Her eyes burn. She looks at you desperately, her weakened body unable to fight back. You’re dying. She can see the mangled mess of your side. A person moves and hides you from view, and Kara feels herself sob.

—

The world fades back in pieces. Sound, light. Heavy warmth over your body and the pulsing numbness of your side.

“Kara?” you ask weakly, voice rasping against the dryness of your throat. You blink your eyes open, mildly confused and surprised at the familiar sight of the ceiling of Kara’s ship above you.

Several things clatter to the floor before Kara’s messy blonde hair appears in your vision. You smile weakly. She’s always been so beautiful.

“I’m here,” she says, reaching down to grip your hand.

“Ruthye?”

“She’s here too. Worried about you.”

“What happened?”

Kara bites her lip and lowers herself onto the bed beside you. She sinks into the soft mattress, looking out of place in her dirtied costume surrounded by a nest of blankets.

“Kypronite,” she says bitterly. “Some kind of injection, like the one I got shot with.”

“I thought Kryptonite only hurt Kryptonians?” you ask softly. Her hand tightens around yours.

“It was fragmented. Sharp, tiny pieces to dig into the skin and tear it to shreds. Each piece had to be picked out one by one.”

You shake your head, wincing at the resounding ache. “You couldn’t have…it would have poisoned you while you tried.”

“It did.” Kara looks away from you, her eyes flashing with something dark. “I couldn’t do it all. Ruthye found someone. A healer.”

“You let someone else operate on me?” you ask softly. You run your thumb back and forth over Kara’s knuckles. 

“I had no choice.” Her voice cracks, and you see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “What he did to you…you were dying. And I couldn’t stop it.”

“Kara. Kara look at me.”

She does, bottom lip trembling. 

“I’m okay,” you say softly. “I’m okay.”

“But you almost weren’t.”

“And that’s not your fault.”

”I brought you here, I—” she shakes her head.

“Hey. None of that. I chose to come. I choose to be with you everywhere you go, Kara, and I have never once regretted that decision.” You squeeze her hand. “Not even now.”

Kara allows her tears to fall, and you pull her down to lay curled along your side. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

”Krypto—” Kara’s voice cracks. For a moment you fear the worst. “—he’s okay. We got him the antidote while you were still asleep. Ruthye has him outside.”

You let yourself relax against the pillows with a heavy sigh. “Have them come back in? I’ve missed our boy.”

Kara lets out a watery laugh. “He’s missed you too.”

The moment Ruthye spots you, she hurries over and wraps you in a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” she says as she pulls back. Krypto jumps onto the bed and barks his agreement. 

Kara presses against your side, resting her head on your shoulder. 

“Thanks to you,” you say. “Could you get me some water?”

Ruthye scampers off and you turn to Kara. “I’m still okay.”

“I know.” But she worries her bottom lip with her teeth, and her eyes have that slightly unfocused look that means she’s listening in to something—most likely your heartbeat.

“Come here.”

You gently tug Kara over until she’s half on top of you, her head resting over your heart. She sighs and melts, muscles relaxing.

“I love you,” she murmurs. 

“I love you, my Supergirl,” you respond.

note a little longer than usual! I hope you enjoyed!! remember that reblogging helps support your writers <3

[crownedgrief]

slight (?) nsfw

when i realize i hate g!p but im okay with boypussy like okayyyy i think this is a giant glowing sign right in my face❤️

[crownedgrief]

when i’m trying to find cute wlw x readers and everything is g!p smut