#//are y'all proud of me

[alllonsy]

I did it... I finally finished Jodie's run

[deadpoets]

CASSIAN ANDOR + SNOOPY

[mellowwillowy]

“RABU”

Original story by @merakiui

So my dumbass didn't reread the fic and forgot Reader was 44 already. So here we are, young and fresh.

Funny story 2, I forgot what Rabu was until I finished all the drafts and realized, “It’s love isn't it??” (right?)

Rabu might not be categorized as my fave (coughs SK series coughs) but the ending makes me think late at night, how many options did Reader have?

So here I am, spawned to speed-run the vision in my head. Azul’s hair is too annoying so I'd rather have Floyb first (even though I really want to see Zuzu smoking). Jade’s route(?) is still vague in my mind so he’s no good as well.

I just love the idea of Papa Leech caring more about his sons, doesn't matter what Jade does, Papa Leech will forever cover his track. In this case, Papa Leech didn't care about Reader’s well-being at all, it was probably something done by Jade anyway. That’s Papa Leech’s love~.

Anyway, as I said in my previous RB, long live the seafood (by Chef Meraki!)

[quinseparable]

I know its not a lot for most writers, but y'all. I wrote the first 2200 words for an original story of mine. I haven't written much of anything (outside of roleplaying) in like 15 years. I could cry. I miss this so damn much.

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

i'll melt your heart into two @jkvjimin ♡

[abd-illustrates]

I might’ve spoiled the plot of Natlan | Genshin Impact THEORY

In which I read so much lore that I gained the power to see the future (maybe) This ended up being a real challenge to make - but it was also really fun! Please do lemme know what you reckon of these ideas, and whether y’all wanna see me pattern-recognition my way into several corkboards worth of theories about any other topics sometime down the line! (^^)/

(also: HAPPY NEW YEAR! 🥳🎉 Here's wishing y'all every good thing for 2024)

[moongothic]

Madoka is the promise you won't turn from a child, full of hopes and dreams and the wish to save the world, into a bitter adult who just wants to hurt others and ruin people's lives

Madoka promised to be there for you to remind you of the person you wanted to be and to stop you from becoming what you sought to destroy

Madoka made that promise and became the very embodiment of it

[cloudyskydreams]

Yooo I really like that pregnancy ask and I wanted to suggest a what if! Pure angst and drama if you're up to it.

What if the pregnancy didn't go well near the end because S/O's magic is not very high (to begin with! monsters need both parents iirc to have a health about of magic to make a monster.) A couple of days after the baby bone is born, child protective services (the Canadian version of it.) have to take them to their father stating that the mother is in a coma and is unlikely to recover.

((What a way to start the day. Getting a knock on the door only to find a stranger hold a baby that they were so sure it wasn't theirs. AND their s/o is probably going to die because their SOUL magic was sucked up dry to make the baby. Said baby bones looks a bit unhealthy too because they developed without their pappa's magic and is weakly crying.))

((You can decide of s/o recovers or not.))

hhhhhh you guys need to be movie directors or something because the pure plot and drama being thrown at me recently.

S/O recovers because I like that route better having a free reign relationship with your child only to have the possibility of that taken away when your comatosed ex wakes up.

Holy fuck these turned out longer than I expected so I'm just doing 3 if you wanted a different character feel free to request again! Also the holidays are NOT being kind to me so my updates are probably gonna be wack as I deal with the shitshow I call a family hope you guys enjoy and happy holidays!

Undertale:

Sans: Sees the baby bones and kind of zones out as shock runs through his body. Then he hears the word coma and zones back in. "what?" he has them repeat their entire spiel and his soul stops for a second when he hears what happened. He hesitantly accepts the babybones and cradles him to his chest gently.He's not ready for any of this and his world is collapsing around him as he finishes the conversation with CPS. Once they're gone he takes the babybones inside and simply stares at him for a bit as he rocks him back in forth Infront of the door he hasn't moved two steps from. The baby is whining and looking at him is like looking at an exact replica of himself as a babybones. He takes a few deep breaths and chuckles which turn into a full body laugh which turn into sobs as he cradles the baby to his chest. Why didnt he trust you? He still loved you even though he was convinced you had cheated a part of him desperately hoping he was wrong but now that he knows he was it's devastating. He looks for monster food that would be suitable for a babybones hoping to soothe his cry's and get his bones looking healthier. The entire time he's shaking as he rummages through the cabinets. Finds something akin to applesauce and spoonfeeds the little guy. Goes out and picks up a bunch of stuff (good, toys,clothes ect.)when Papyrus gets home. The first night he can't sleep and simply stays awake watching the babybones all night. He vows he's going to be the best dad ever while staring at his baby boys sleeping face a rush of paternal protectiveness rushing over him. He does a good job at taking care of the baby as he has experience since he had to basically raise Papyrus. He visits you once and the guilt destroys him so badly he can't visit you again. It had been a few months when he received a call. Surprise surprise it's you on the other end having just woken up and wanting to see your child immediately. Sans is more than happy to comply and gets to the hospital as soon as he can with the baby who's looking much healthier. Hesitates outside the doorway as he cradles your guys son to his chest. Possibilities and what ifs running through his head as anxiety starts to simmer. When he enters the room you look so relieved and happy to see him which happily surprises him till he realizes you're probably excited to see your baby. He hands the child over and suddenly your crying, the baby's crying, he's crying, all of y'all crying. He apologizes profusely before you can say anything and says he should have believed you how wrong he was and how sorry he is you had to go through everything alone and his grateful he is to see you again. He understands if you don't forgive him but don't expect to be rid of him because he's absolutely sticking around in his son's life.

Edge:Honestly when he sees the child and hears what CPS has to say he thinks he's having a nightmare. He's dreamt of similar situations where your baby actually turned out to be his nothing quiet like this but it's similar enough he's really thinking he's still asleep. Takes the child and thanks the CPS people for their time before going back inside. Trys to soothe the baby's cry's and rocks him gently in his arms. Checks the clock to make sure he has enough time to get to his next appointment in the day and yeah he's got a good bit, wait.... you can't read time in your dreams. He looks back at the clock and gently sets the baby down on the couch as he does the equivalent of pinching himself. Fuck fuck wait he's not dreaming. A flood of cold numbers rushes over him as he remembers what CPS said... He gently scoops the baby back up and shelves his oncoming mental breakdown as he stares down at his son. When Red gets home Edge recruits him as a babysitter (his thought process being he raised me he can watch a baby for an hour or so (red was absolutely stressed tf out))as he runs out to grab supplies and sort himself out. By sort himself out I mean destroying a chunk of a forest with his magic to workout all his anger and devastation. He trys his best to take care of the babybones his brother surprisingly giving good advice every now and then while he figures out how to be a dad. He's extremely gentle with the child and speaks on the most soothing fatherly tone to the little baby. He visits you in the hospitals bi weekly leaving little messages of memorable moments with the baby and some pictures. A few months goes by and one day he receives a call. It's a very frantic you on the other end and he can't help the immense amount of relief he feels as he hears your voice begging him to see your child. He brings the babybones to the hospital and stays quiet as he watches you two cuddling. He doesn't speak up until you thank him for watching the babybones. Tells you there's nothing to thank him for he was doing his job as a father and then it's quiet for a bit more before he hesitantly approaches and bows his head. He apologizes for his actions, for not trusting you, for everything you had to deal with alone. He's not expecting you to forgive him he wouldn't forgive himself but he does want to be apart of the child's life and immediately says so making sure you're aware of his intentions. Most likely to take you to court for custody of you refuse to let him father his child.

Stretch:Was woken up by the knock and answered the door still half asleep. Hears the story, takes the kid, thanks them and closes the door. It takes him like five whole minutes until he's like wait what the fuck. Holds the baby Infront of him by the armpits and looks at his mini lookalike with horror. Holy fucking shit he was wrong? He's a dad?? YOU'RE IN A COMA?? He gets lightheaded for a second and sits down on the couch with the crying baby in his arms. He hesitantly rocks the babybones not really sure what he's doing and immediately calls Blue. He's shaking as he's on the phone with his brother who says he's on the way. When Blue gets there he shows Stretch which foods the baby can eat and how to care for it. Stretch appreciates the help and kind of throws himself into caring for the child instead of thinking about the fact you're in a coma. He's sleeping on a beanbag chair in the nursery and wakes up as soon as the baby starts crying. Every waking moment is spent caring and playing with the babybones. Sometimes late at night he thinks about you and everything he's lost and missed out on but you've given him the best gift he could have ever asked for, a son. He visits you in the hospital occasionally leaving your favorite flower and pictures of the baby he's taken. Surprise surprise a month later when he gets a call and you're alive desperate to see you're baby. He brings the child and is grateful to see you awake when he hands him over. He immediately apologizes he tells you how wonderful his son is and how much he loves him and begs you to let him be apart of the child's life. He understands if you don't want him back as much as he misses you he fucked up he wasn't there and you almost died because he wasn't. He just loves his kid man he will be there for him and you if you let him.

[wolfsbanesparks]

Billy Batson Week 2025

And that's a wrap! Happy Billy Batson week everyone! And a huge thank you to @marybatson for putting this all together! It's been such a blast!

Day 7: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BILLY

Birthday Confession

Summary:

It's Billy's 18th birthday. Before he can celebrate with his family and friends, he decides there's something he has to do: reveal his identity to the Justice League.

[sun-snatcher]

May i have a blurb of Haytham Kenway… a taste… pretty please…

( all credits to @giffedit for this incredible gifset! )

✠ | insufferable ; haytham kenway

summ. Bickerings oft lead to equally heated conclusions. a/n.  A TASTE you say? Here’s 1k of an angry, enemies-to-questionable-allies makeout. No actual smut, but NSFW themes, ofc.

YOU CAN’T RECALL how you got here.

Here, by way of meaning: 

Pinned against Templar Grandmaster Haytham Kenway’s paper-strewn work desk, inkpot spilled over and staining the cuffs of your sleeves, with his hands roving down your sides and your hips pressed hard against his.

“You,” he rasps, bordering a growl. “Are an insufferable woman.”

The proximity, the heat of your panting mingling with his— it’s blistering. Feverish. You want to kiss him. You want to punch him. 

You tighten the bracket of your thighs around his waist, tip the tricorn hat off his head with a defiant scowl. “You should’ve never inducted me into your Order, then, Master Kenway.”

Right. Yes. You vaguely remember now. It’d been yet another typical heated argument; another disagreement and row borne from dredging up old wounds of your ex-Assassin history, of Haytham’s present and obvious distaste of it, despite the fact you’ve proven yourself worthy to the Templars more than once alongside Shay.

Earlier, you’d barely finished your tirade (“You and your dastardly cloak make me so—!”), hands thrown in the air when the ironclad grip of Haytham abruptly circled your wrist.

The others had known better than to interfere when you’d practically been yanked into the Grandmaster’s study for an upbraiding. 

Or, well, what they thought would be an upbraiding.

“Then let us be free of this months-long tension,” Haytham had hissed, instead. “More productively.”

So here you are. Rough-housed and man-handled. You hitch at the bumps and the scolding nips he makes, try to return the same wanton fervor to his jaw and his Adam’s apple, but to no avail. Haytham is a looming shadow, greater than you not just by rank and experience but by sheer, dizzying strength— 

The vicious kisses he bullies against the bitten-red of your lips are charged and ardent. Meant to force you into some semblance of submission; to be docile. Has you gasping for air and resisting him the satisfaction of a moan when he gropes at the flesh of your thighs. 

“Master Kenway,” you choke, nuzzling into the slope of his neck, unable to stop yourself from indulging the heady, masculine, salt of it with an eager tongue.

He groans at the high and tight way you address, call, plead for him, sounding like prey at the mercy of an untamed, starved beast. 

It makes you grin when you realise. Coy as a fox and full of guile. Haytham can feel it curl across his cheek, in your slow languorous tease as you snark, “And here I thought you hated me.”

“Hate is an inadequate term,” he censures, mouthing hot and humid against your skin. “There are no words in any bloody language that can encompass just how— you make me feel.”

It’s a raw confession, as mean and as bitten out as it is. A honeyed, double-edged sword. You make a mental note of it anyway, and try not to contemplate the fact that you have this much power over the Grandmaster Templar, nor let it get to your head— whatever he means by his words. 

“And what, exactly, do you feel?” Your hand expertly wanders past his belt. The innocent petal-touch strikes a lightning bolt of want surging through him. Makes him twitch. “This?”

Haytham doesn’t deign to give you an answer, unsurprisingly. He hates not being in control, after all, and so he makes quick work to put you back in your place: below rank, through yet another savage kiss, a guttural warning nosed on the scant space just below your ear that leaves you subconsciously keening closer.

It does poorly to satiate him. The dangerous yen for something more brutal still burns molten in his stomach; something that tastes warmer. There’s still the bitter anger and bruised pride he holds from the arguments before, and for the ones that’ll surely come after. The blatant disrespect you show whenever you bare your teeth at him, as if he isn’t your superior. 

He wants— no, needs— to sink into you, to see you shut up and aching to be ruined with the thick of him—

“I’ll make you wear nothing but this ‘dastardly’ cloak of mine one day,” Haytham grinds out, voice rough-hewn from his wet and growing appetite. “And then spread you out and take my time with you.”

He greedily licks a stripe up your throat as he says it, carves the whine that escapes you into his memory.

“One day?” Your scoff is breathless and stilted. The feel of his teeth grazing your jugular is intoxicating. “I reckon you’ll— hah— hardly deliver now, Master Kenway, to— warrant another chance after this.”

(Regardless, you entertain the idea. Have entertained, to be more specific. You’ve imagined what it’s like on lonelier nights.

To have him hike your legs up his broad shoulders, tangle your fingers through his perfectly kempt hair. Catch the flash of his wry, canine-sharp smile, rare as they are; face soaked and telling over his nose and down his lips from where you’d have shut him up by forcefully burying him between your thighs and cushioning into your—)

You expect the usual blaze of anger. A challenging snarl. Instead:

“Oh?” Haytham laughs.

Laughs.

And Christ alive— that dark, daring and depraved rumble huffed at your sweat-slicked nape shouldn’t have made you more pliant; more eager for him, but it does. It feels like the damning prelude of an already losing war, now, the way he’s forced your full weight down with such frightening ease onto the desk to look up at him. 

There’s an ominous calm before a storm, brewing frostily in his dilated eyes. He’s conceding, you realise.

And then—

“Tell me to stop,” Haytham breathes. 

It’s the least insulting tone he’d taken with you yet since you’d first begun arguing. A fragile moment of clarity. 

In uncharacteristic tenderness, you feel him thumb gently at your cheek. “Tell me to stop, and I will,” he says, “You have my word.”

Something soft unfurls deep in your ribcage. Takes flight.

“Don’t,” you whisper, trying not to shudder at the English gentlemanly-ness he so likes to wholly fashion himself with to hide his wild, beastly nature— that you’ve so liked to repeatedly claim you found irksome. You tighten your grip reflexively.

(Darling, dearest, dove. You never admit it, but the classy posturing has always been an attractive feat of his. Something about wolves in sheep’s clothing, you think. Something about being rabidly taken for his own animalistic pleasure—) 

“Don’t you dare, Kenway.”

And so the delicate moment passes. Haytham surges his head forward to steal a kiss from you again, inhales a lungful of your cloying scent that’s mixed with the sea-winds from the weeks of sailing aboard the Morrigan.

“Mh,” he hums in assent, nosing his way from your hairline down to the juncture of your neck; letting his calloused hand mould wide around the thin, bare skin of it to feel your bated breath and rapid pulse. He could snuff you out like a light in an instant. (And he supposes you like the thrill of that as much as he does.)

“Then I believe I ought to teach you a lesson or two about respect, dear.” 

Haytham pulls away and cocks his head. As if thinking. As if he hadn’t imagined this a hundred times over since he’d met you, in the darkest hour of every restless night when he’s alone with nothing but his fist jerking between his legs.

“How about we put that smart mouth of yours to good use first?”

[manalltheseart]

OMG finally finished this. I was actually drawing this just for funsies but then the event came up so why not?

Happy 4th Anniversary with the game that pulled me into interactive fiction, made me brainrot so hard and froth at the mouth for such a well written and thought out story, @evertidings

The illustration without the text is below:

[sappho-favourite-pupil]

Your tits look extremely good in that swimming suit, i should be hugging you from behind so that i can grope them. Just a little bit. Hope you don't mind we're in public. No? Awesome.

this is about lesbians🪻

[waveridden]

May gets up and wanders to the kitchen, leaning over the island, opposite from Albert. “I… have a date with Ravi this weekend.”

Albert looks at her with an expression that she can’t decipher. “Ravi as in… Ravi.”

May and Albert move in together. May and Ravi start dating. May learns about Ravi and Albert. Things are straightforward until they're not.

[32k, May/Ravi/Albert, rated T]

[hallaburger]

i'm actually really upset at the watcher "fandom"

y'all seem like a lot of fair-weather fans to a group of guys who have consistently put out shows that you love, you've gone to their live shows, you've bought their merch, you've followed them over the years as they've grown and built their own brand

and then when they come out to say "hey, we're proud to announce the next big step for us as creators, producers, talent, and directors," you fucking scream and rail and throw a fit because they are launching a paid service that allows them MUCH more creative control and freedom while also supporting their staff in a more sustainable way???

that's sick and pathological, and i wonder how many of y'all were blogging in support of the wga/sag-aftra strike, because if you were and you're pitching a fit now? check yourself. not fucking cute to say you support those folks and then bitch and moan when your so-called favorite creators take the initiative to support themselves in a way that they feel more confident in.

"but we liked the old content that looked like it was made in a basement and the blue and yellow text and--" okay, did you ever think that maybe?? MAYBE???? the guys wanted to do something better??? if you really supported them, you'd be in support of their creative ambitions, too.

[somewhereincairparavel]

when someone comments 'percy is boring, jason is way better' in percy fanart. #jasontruthersinpercyjacksonisbetterdominatedfields

[kindahoping4forever]

RyanFleming: One of my favorite raw clips ⚡

@ ashtonirwin // 2019 WWJ Tour // @ 5sos

(Originally posted to 5SOS' IG Story 24 December 2019)