potionpeddlerpatchy

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Hey did you know that like??? I am a delight to be around?? Did you??

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Despite the odds it was an incredible success

Poof it's gone now 🤭

Patch is attempting a smokey fox eye look, stay tuned for this possible disaster 😬

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@ennineverything

snoopy of the day

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when little kids walk by kita's rice paddies on their way to and from school you KNOW he always stops to say hello to them with a big smile on his face

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Hey did you know that like??? I am a delight to be around?? Did you??

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It’s in the way he gently closes the door to your shared apartment and slips off his shoes. It’s the way he calmly breathes out your name and says “I’m home” when he walks further inside. It’s in the way he places his satchel on the dining room chair, scooting it back to give himself room to pick up your cool mug. It’s the way he puts it in the sink and picks up a new glass for water, and one for your favorite juice. It’s the way he bumps his hip on the door to your shared room because his hands are full. It’s the way his deep blue eyes soften upon seeing you wrapped in your blankets, wiping at the corner of your eyes. It’s the way he gently walks over toward you and places the two drinks on your nightstand. It’s the way the bed dips beside you under his weight as he wraps his arm around you. It’s the way he doesn’t ask you what’s wrong; he already knew based on the texts you sent him at work. It’s the way he reveals the rest of your face to him and he kisses your cheek and some tears away.

“I have water for you on the nightstand, along with some juice,” Akaashi says softly.

It’s in the way he holds you tight and rocks you to sleep as you sniffle and sip on some water. It’s in the way he reads a manga manuscript because you asked to hear his voice as you went to sleep. It’s in the way he kisses your forehead and lets you sleep for the rest of the evening, despite it only being 6:30. It’s in the way he helps prepare you for the next day by setting out some clothes he knows you’d like.

It’s in the way he treats you with softness that he loves you.

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Your fav sat back with one of your legs resting over his shoulder, other leg being lovingly caressed by him as it lays flat on the bed opening you up to him. His eyes glazed over as he devours the sight of how you soak him in creamy white where you’re joined, nearly drooling and hypnotized by the sight of your pretty nails rubbing gentle circles into your clit as he slowly pushes in and out. The only sounds between you both being light panting and the slick sounds your pussy makes each time his hips retreat from yours.

[potionpeddlerpatchy]

This is the life you taught to me (this is the solitude that you call your own)

comfort came against my will - series masterlist here

pairing: dick grayson x reader, bruce wayne & reader (gender neutral, no use of y/n)

length: 1.7k

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: prequel fic basically, younger dick grayson, he's just a little angry and a little mean and a little desperate to be on his own, big warning for actual plot, my greatest letdown my greatest challenge

a/n: wow it's the origin

"You've got a lot of loose ends, Bruce. Sooner or later, someone else is going to notice… and they're not going to be as nice about it as I am."

Dick lurches to a halt outside of Bruce's study, his hand freezing where it was reaching for the doorknob as he hears the voice slipping through the cracks in the wood. It's too late, he thinks, for Bruce to be conducting any sort of Wayne Enterprises business - and there's something lilting and threatening about the voice that has his hackles raising.

"If I can figure you out, someone else can, too… don't be stupid about this," you continue, and Dick shifts a bit closer as he listens to the quiet clink of two whiskey glasses.

"We've managed this far without any interference," Bruce muses, and you click your tongue in annoyance.

"You're getting sloppy," you quip back. "Batman gets thrown into the side of a building the same night Bruce Wayne misses his own gala. Robin takes a tumble, and then the young Wayne has a broken arm for a month. How much longer before people start putting those headlines together, hm?"

Outside the door, Dick feels a bit like the ground has disappeared from beneath him as he listens to you peel back the layers of Bruce's deception. His hand reaches up to his own face as if to find the security of his mask, and he remembers only too late that he's supposed to be at home. He's supposed to be somewhere safe - somewhere where he doesn't have to keep his face covered.

As he listens to the muffled conversation through the door, however, he finds that something sort of resembling panic has begun to fill him at the thought of his mask not being able to keep him safe anymore.

It's blackmail, he thinks. It's a threat, it's going to be a fight, it's -

"People don't pay that much attention," Bruce counters, and you tap your nails on the side of the drink he's handed you.

"Do you really want to bet this much on that?" you ask, and Dick wonders sort of bitterly why Bruce hasn't stopped you by now.

"What do you get out of this?" he asks instead, and Dick shifts on his feet in the shadowed corner of the hallway - listening, waiting, worrying.

"It pays to make the right friends," you reply easily, and Bruce's disapproving huff is the only sign, so far, of his displeasure.

"Batman's not a gun for hire."

"No," you drawl, and from the way that your voice drifts, Dick guesses that you're walking further away from the door and toward the huge, looming windows of the study. He's seen them, of course - knows the way that they look out toward the sprawling city in all its glory. "He certainly isn't."

You stand there, then, staring out through the night toward the winding streets and shimmering buildings as Bruce waits.

"Gotham is a hideous city," you continue eventually, your voice level and low. "It's violent and foul and reeks of something hopeless."

"Is that why you left?" Bruce asks with mild amusement.

"It's why I keep coming back," you counter flatly, and then Dick hears the creaking of leather as you sit back down on the plush couch - as if you couldn't look at it, as if you couldn't stare out toward a city that you once called home. His hands ball into fists so tightly that his nails start to dig into his skin as he waits for Bruce to do something - and then he thinks that maybe, just maybe, nothing's changed at all.

"I do, actually, have this city's best interest at heart," you continue.

"Do you?" Bruce counters, and you fix him with a stare.

"Gotham needs Batman. That fact has been made known countless times. And I… well, I'm quite fond of my partnership with Wayne Enterprises. It's in my best interest to keep the two running very smoothly, very… far away from each other. I'm offering you a helping hand here, Bruce. Take it," you press. 

"You want to control my media coverage?" Bruce asks.

"For you and Damian, both," you nod.

"Not the others?" he counters, and you pause - caught in the trap of the pieces that you haven't been able to put together yet. Something triumphant flickers over Bruce's features as Dick's shoulders drop a bit where he stays pressed against the wall in the hallway - safe, for now. Unknown, yet again.

"Seems like you don't know quite everything," Bruce continues, his voice a smug echo through the study. You purse your lips in a bit of annoyance.

"If I knew everything, maybe I'd be blackmailing you instead of helping you," you quip - a razor-sharp joke that has Dick frowning.

"You don't need my money," Bruce says mildly, leaning back against the leather couch.

"No, but it's certainly nice," you counter. He laughs at that, and Dick wonders, just a bit, if he's really lost his mind this time.

"Look at the contract, Bruce," you sigh - the first sign of weariness at this never-ending back and forth.

"Just Damian and myself," Bruce insists, and Dick shifts outside the door as he presses further in, waiting to hear the shuffle of paper, the click of a pen.

But there's nothing - not yet.

"What about the others?" you press, and Bruce shoots you a disbelieving sort of look at your attempts to pry back the truth - to dig your nails into his family and leave your fingerprints on all of his secrets. 

"That's up to them. I'll discuss it with them," he allows. "But these aren't all my secrets to tell."

"Of course not," you respond briskly. "But they certainly concern you."

"Let me be the one who's concerned, then," Bruce allows, and you purse your lips a bit in dissatisfaction. 

"What about Grayson?" you ask, and Dick freezes, something in him straining - his hackles raised as he inches forward with the need to claw through the door and get rid of you. But Bruce's response is level - sturdy and sure-footed.

"What about him?"

"He's not in Gotham anymore," you press. "Do I still need to worry about him?"

"He's not Robin anymore," Bruce says pointedly, and you click your tongue.

"Yes, obviously. But he's something, I assume."

"He's a cop," Bruce says matter-of-factly. "A detective." You stare at him, your gaze sharp and searching - but you bite your tongue, nonetheless. Just outside the door, Dick holds his breath and wonders - wonders just how clever you are, how close he is to being found out.

"Your business is Gotham," Bruce continues, a hard edge to his voice that wasn't there before. "Leave the rest alone. I'll walk you out."

Dick is sure that Bruce knows - is sure that he sees him melt into the shadows of the dark hallway as he swings open the door of his study and walks with you through the winding corridors of the manor. He's sure, also, that if Bruce didn't want him looking at the contract that you'd drawn up, then he wouldn't have left it sitting on his desk.

So he slinks in once your voice has disappeared with Bruce's down the hall - he pads silently across the study so that he can search with quick fingers and flickering eyes for what you've left behind.

"That's not yours." Sure enough, Bruce's voice is heard, mild and unbothered, as he makes his way back to his study. Dick ignores him, staring down at the contract in front of him.

"What the fuck is this, Bruce?" Dick murmurs, and Bruce pours two new glasses of whiskey.

"You've heard of the company, I'm sure," he says, and Dick stares at the sleek logo on the top of the contract.

"Yea," he says flatly. "Media giant. Anything that shows up on screen, they have their hands in - film, TV, journalism, photography," he trails off. Bruce nods. 

"So, for us - insurance."

"Insurance?" Dick echoes. "We don't need that."

"It could be nice," Bruce muses. "To have everything covered - articles monitored, damage control done without us having to worry about it."

"No way you trust this," Dick huffs as he shuffles through the contract.

"I don't know," Bruce says quietly, moving to hand him one of the glasses. "I think I do."

"Do you really want to let someone in like that?" Dick presses, his voice strained - sharp and cutting as Bruce places the whiskey down in front of him after he makes no move to take it.

"I might have to eventually," Bruce responds, leaning against the desk. "We can't do this alone forever. We never really could."

Dick sort of… pauses at that, the words thumping through his heart painfully. We are alone, he wants to bite back. That's the only way to do this. You know that, you taught me that.

"Speak for yourself," he snaps instead.

"I am," Bruce points out easily. "I'm sure you heard that part. You really shouldn't be eavesdropping like that."

"You really shouldn't be signing contracts like this," Dick counters, but he knows a losing battle when he sees one - knows when Bruce is too far off, too far away, too busy thinking about protecting the people around him to actually listen to them. 

"You never know," Bruce sighs - because he knows when there's no point in fighting, knows when Dick's too concerned with keeping everyone safe to really see beyond that. "This might surprise you."

"No," Dick counters firmly, slamming the contract back down and brushing past Bruce on his way out of the study. "Leave me out of this."

"You can't do this on your own forever," Bruce calls after him, and Dick lurches to a halt in the doorway.

"I already am," he replies flatly, and Bruce wonders, as his son's silhouette disappears into a  place he once called home, when he started to sound like that. As he catches his own reflection in the whiskey glass in his hand, he wonders if it's really him staring back, or if it's the boy he failed to raise.

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your f/o, who is not already bald, shaves their head completely without explanation right before your family member's wedding. a lot of pictures will be taken of the two of you.

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when Abba sang "I'm nothing special. In fact, I'm a bit of a bore." I felt it, sang it with my entire chest, even

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Im getting take out, anyone want anything??

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I’m sorry but why does he have that thick dip in his back if he doesn’t want me to run my tongue up it and bite the curve of his shoulder?

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Made these about a month ago, figured other spoonies might want to use them

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summer snoopy

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shoutout to everyone who wants to infodump but cant string together coherent thoughts to form sentences and instead just look at you like this

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Would anyone be interested in my poetry portfolio? Like, the best hits? The ones I got published? Or