#— [🦇] about

[fernsnailz]

team dark in: the mac and cheese incident

[qcomicsy]

I don't think Bruce is ever angry at Jason. Frustrated? Yeah. But never angry. I think he's angry at himself. How can you hate the child who shoots blindly if it was you who taught them how to hold a gun?

[fluffy-ami]

Congrats on reaching your milestone!! Could I request some lee! Kirishima and ler! Bakugou?

happy (early) Halloween ig 🎃

hehehe krbk hehehe like cmon man this little pumpkin looks so cute manly, just let bro carve it so he can stare at it lovingly later (he luvz u)

(and also. another milestone lol. my autistic ass is not keeping up with y'all, but i still love u guys, sorry for not having enough energy to be more active & talk to people these days. i still love this silly little blog despite forgetting about its existence at times lol 🐄🎂)

[cometshift]

predisaster mesmerizer collection

[batty4steddie]

Steve began to feel a little jealous of Eddie’s hair after he started using Steve’s shampoo. Eddie’s curls were already beautiful, but now they were more defined. They were bouncy, buttery soft and shinier than ever.  Steve loved to bury his nose in them when he kissed Eddie’s head in the morning—and again at night before he fell asleep. He also didn’t mind when Eddie used his lap as a pillow. Steve would run his fingers through them mindlessly while they watched TV, ruffling Eddie’s bangs every now and then. Steve spent half the time looking down at Eddie instead of whatever they were watching. Eddie was so pretty. Steve found himself saying that out loud more often than just thinking it. Eddie’s reaction was almost always the same: he would scrunch up his nose, his cheeks would flush the nicest, rosiest shade that complimented his skin tone, and he would argue that Steve was much better looking than he was, so Steve doubled down. “It’s true, Eds. You’d think people would’ve called you ‘The Hair’.”

[vampiremotif]

harrow the ninth tamsyn muir / her body and other parties carmen maria machado / mabel podcast / tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow gabrielle zevin / harrow the ninth tamsyn muir / much ado about nothing william shakespeare

[kokillchi]

head empty. no thoughts. only jamie bower

[ask-seb]

I always make some drawings of yours because I admire you as a person. What do you think? 🥺

… holy shit. your art is just incredible. i don’t even think there are words to explain how seeing it makes me feel.

you? admiring me? nah… it’s the other way around. the talent you have is something i could only ever dream of.

thanks for letting me be your muse.

[valvarads]

—I haven’t been acting like myself. I’m not the thinking type, but I was thinking so much. It was just wasting time.

[the-batblog]

Bruce doesn't really know what to expect when he decides to take Jason in. He found a kid on the street who was bold and mouthy and wasn't afraid to do what he had to to survive. He's not like Dick; he doesn't need crime-fighting to save his soul. But he might find it helpful to discover his potential.

Bruce realizes quickly just how many assumptions he's made about raising a young man. Jason is polite, and he doesn't make many outbursts, and he doesn't snub any of his food or climb the banisters. He does what Bruce and Alfred ask without a fuss, and he's always trying to help out where he can.

And it's… different. Bruce remembers Dick at that age, just starting to get truly unruly and sassy. Challenging Bruce at every opportunity. Causing trouble.

But Jason is gobsmackingly well-behaved.

…It's unnerving.

It's been a week and Bruce is watching Jason closer now. There's something amiss. They're sitting down for breakfast, and Bruce passes Jason the syrup for their waffles. Jason thanks him politely, gives himself a modest serving of it, and then passes it back.

And Bruce watches as Jason eats like a starving man.

He's not fast, he's not wolfing it all down, but his mouth is never empty. He cuts a piece and makes sure he's dabbed up every little bit of syrup he can with it, and as soon as it's in his mouth, he's cutting another.

Bruce used to eat like that. In Nanda Parbat.

"Chum," Bruce says, gentle and quiet. Jason looks up at him instantly, those keen eyes wide. "You can slow down."

Jason hesitates. Then he swallows and nods. "Okay," he says. Bruce watches him. He slows his movements, but otherwise, nothing changes.

They're at the grocery store. Bruce hardly ever does this, but Alfred suggested he go with today. It wasn't the request, but the loaded look Alfred gave him while he said it. And it doesn't take long for Bruce to see what's going on.

Between helping Alfred put things in the cart and asking all kinds of questions about how to tell when a fruit or vegetable are properly ripe, Jason subtly ogles snacks, books, baking supplies, and even an impulse rack of movie character socks. Bruce keeps expecting him to reach out and pick something up, to add it to the cart more or less sneakily, or to even grab something and thrust it up into Bruce's face, chattering animatedly about it. But he just keeps one hand on the cart, and then he looks forward again. Finally, Bruce can't take the quiet disappointment in his chest for one more aisle.

"Chum?" Bruce hums, soft and low, leaning down a bit. Jason snaps his head to look at Bruce, blue eyes wide. "Did you want to get that?"

Jason looks suddenly… sick. He throws an anxious glance at the box of sugary cereal, and then he looks down and shakes his head.

"It would be no trouble," Alfred chimes in gently. Jason shakes his head again. In the motion, Bruce catches a glimpse of his cheeks, blushing in sharp blotches against his paled skin.

"No, thank you," he says in a tiny, tight voice.

Bruce is reading the news off of his phone after dinner, sipping a cup of coffee from the table. Jason insisted on helping Alfred with the dishes before they went downstairs to train.

There's a crash, and the unmistakable sound of porcelain breaking apart. Bruce grunts, looking down to make sure he didn't spill his drink when he flinched, but he doesn't get out of his seat until the next thing he hears.

"Sorry! Sorry-sorry-sorry-sorry!"

Bruce enters the kitchen with all intention of being calm and cool, but he's shocked to see Jason on his knees, Alfred just barely too slow to keep him from grabbing one of the plate shards. Jason flinches his too small hand back with a hiss, and then Alfred and Bruce both are rushing him to his feet and the sink.

Jason is shaking in Bruce's hands as he holds the boy's little shoulder and his little wrist, gently but swiftly putting his little hands under the warm water Alfred runs. Jason's breathing hard, too, and it takes Bruce entirely too long to put the two together.

"Shh, shh, Jay, lad, it's okay," he coos, watching as Alfred tenderly squeezes the cuts, looking for gaps in the bleeding where tiny shards could be hiding. But Jason's still shaking, still hyperventilating, and when Bruce tries to rub his shoulder, it seems to make everything suddenly worse.

Bruce lets go of Jason as if his skin was molten slag. There's a terrible pain in his chest as he looks at Jason's face, his eyes wide, so wide now, and distant. Bruce is staring and Alfred looks questioningly at him, then Jason. His face goes stony, and he moves to stand beside Jason, instead of behind him.

They don't train that night. Bruce lies to Jason, telling him it's because of the cuts on his hands, that he doesn't want to disturb the few bandages. He doesn't feel good about it. He sits at the computer and stares at the home screen.

It's been almost three weeks. Bruce is putting everything together, building a web, a map, a mosaic of all of Jason's little triggers and anxieties.

He grits his teeth, biting on the anger. The painful reality. Of course he knew when he saw Jason, dirty and underweight and glaring up into Batman's face, that he had probably been mistreated. Abused. That he had probably been through things no child should have ever been exposed to.

But to see it… to see his bright smile and hear his little laugh, the kind way he treated every object, how polite he was, how smart he was! And to see every way he had been hurt rippling out into his life, even now…

Bruce gritted his teeth harder, curling his hand into a fist. Jason didn't deserve these ghosts, he didn't deserve this trauma, he didn't deserve that pain. Bruce would take it away from him if he could; he'd soak it all into himself if that's what it took. But there was nothing he could do about the past.

All he could do now was to give Jason the best life he could.

[vampcubus]

Kyojuro has one of those smiles that brightens your whole day. He’ll catch sight of you in a crowd and the widest grin splits across his face. He’ll jump and wave at you, wide eyes crinkling when you can’t help but smile back, waving wildly despite the stares you get.

If there was one thing Kyojuro was amazing at – aside from slaying demons and demolishing bowls of udon – it was greetings. He this way of making the world blur around you as you race towards one another for a bear hug.

It’s an exhilarating feeling to be wanted, even if it was by someone like Kyojuro who was friendly to all. You won’t pretend like his kindness towards you is special, but you don’t see anyone else getting nearly as many hugs from the Flame Hashira as you do.

[fernsnailz]

for some reason i spent my weekend drawing the sonic cast playing basketball

[laroserie]

— character : Tim Drake

— content : x gender neutral reader - reader is referred to as 'you', tim confessing multiple times and failing, reader is ... dense.

— authors note : as i said - i want to write for each weeks of december ! and today is the 7th so my deadline. this is short but sweet :)

— The first time Tim Drake, told you he loved you was the 7th of december a few years back. It was a regular day, nothings out of the norm expect for the fact that it snowed, when the weather forecast said it couldn't.

You took a moment to react, looking at your friend dumbfounded. You were both sitting at a table, at a coffee shop, you were sipping yours and had to put it down. Not sure how to react you simply laughed.

''Well, I like you too Tim? You are a great friend, but you caught me off guard with ... that.'' You told him after you finished laughing.

He sighed and shake his head, he seemed that he wanted say something else but Tim changed subject, talking about a new novel he was reading.

The second time Tim Drake told you he loved you was the next year, the 7th of december once again, this time you were watching a movie. It was just a cheesy regular christmas movie that you put on because you didn't know what else to watch - both of you were not paying attention to it. You were sitting next to Tim, your head was lying on my shoulder and your hands were intertwined. He wasn't sure how he kept his calm to be honest, his mind was racing and once again he just blurred out a 'i love you'. Not hearing any response from you after a few minutes had passed, he looked at you, to see you asleep. He sigh - once again his confession failed.

This time, he didn't care too much, 'I always have next year to tell them' he thoughts. He watched your sleep so peacefully and couldn't help but smile. Then his gaze lower to your hands holding each others and lightly squeezed yours. He didn't mean to but that woke you up, he let out a small laugh seeing you suddenly jerk up, asking for how long you were out.

The third time Tim Drake told you he loved you, was once again the 7th of december. He had decided to make it his habit, he could confess to you every 7th of december until you gave him an answer. This time you were both walking in a mall, looking at the decorations. It was his idea, he wanted this to be a somewhat romantic hangout and take it as an opportunity to confess but he gave up momentarily seeing how into the decors you were. At some point, you both arrived near the center of the mall, here the malls Santa was. You turned to him and looked at him without saying anythings - Tim understood nearly immediately what you wanted to do. He looked at you back for a while, before sighing and nodding his head. And there you went, getting in line to take a picture on this Santa laps, with Tim by your side, as you obviously dragged your best friend along. When it was finally your turn, he stayed on the side, like a parent do for a kid, while you went and sat on the Santa lap and took a picture. You jumped off the Santa lap and walked to Tim with a grin on your face - he couldn't help but smile lightly and whisper 'i really do love you'. You didn't hear that - but once again. Tim didn't care that much, - he knew he always had next year to tell you that.

The fourth time Tim Drake told you he loved, was the 7th of december, it was been now four year that this little tradition of his was going on. You didn't know about this one, you thought your tradition was to hang out every 7th of the month, which was the truth but not the entirety of it.

This time you both were baking gingerbread over at your house - well you had already finished baking it, it was currently cooking in the oven and you were cooking the mess that had became the kitchen. Tim did understand now why Alfred banned him and most of the residents in the manor from attempting to cook.

While he was washing the dishes, you were cleaning the counter. He quickly finished the dishes and went to help you clean it. 'Accidentally' getting a bit too close to you and brushing your hands against each others.

Once you finished, Tim and you sat on the floor in front of the oven to wait for the gingerbread to be done. While you were staring focused on the oven, he turn to you and blurred out, - once again.

"I love you." He was expecting you to laugh, give him a little punch on the arm and tell him you loved him too - because he was your friend. But you didn't. Still staring at the oven, you swallowed and responded "I love you too Tim.", he took a moment to register your words but he decided to hold back his emotions.

"You know I don't mean it in the 'I love you' like a friend way right ?" He asked. "Hmm I know. I didn't mean it in that way either." You answered, turning to face him.

"Oh. I'm glad to hear that … Can I ?" Tim asked, leaning closer to you. You nodded and he leaned even closer until his lips were on yours. The kiss was short but sweet, once he broke the kiss he whispered "You have no idea how long I wanted to do that …".

[acheronist]

yayyy bones !!! so this was on my own leg…. AND its my own design ! wheeeee !!

9rl/7rl/11cm and took just over an hour. this is the right leg and the plan is to mirror the same design on the left leg so its symmetrical lol but i wanted to see how sitting thru the first one While Also doing the tattooing was gonna feel

[notsooldmadcatlady]

You could have it all This city would bow beneath your feet Walk like a wolf amongst the sheep, And each day you shall dine. You could have it all, Don’t be another casualty You can join our family Immortal

♪ Jonathan Young & ‪CalebHyles‬ - Old Money ♪

[space-batzz]

What do you think