#AND SHE NOTICED BUT SHE DOESNT BRING IT UP

[ponuchuu]

i fucking love the "A fell first but B fell harder" trope so much that shit makes me so ISJDJSJDJSJDJF

[haunted-xander]

Very excited to see how they'll do this scene in Rebirth

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Soooo....... if you don't mind me asking

What was that about a cult in the human au👀👀👀

(I hope I'm getting that right and if not I'm referring to the one implied( ?) In I think the eddie short story you posted a while back)

I hope you have a good day/ night whenever you are <3 <3, you're like one of my fav welcome home creators rn <3 <3

HA uh it's not a real cult! it's more like a cult following if anything, the Guys™️ are just dramatic / passive-aggressive about it

a 'cult following of what' you may ask! well! it's a cult following of Wally! or more specifically, Wally's art. it isn't like, Famous or anything, but there's a niche group of art enthusiasts/snobs/etc that are borderline Obsessed with it (in my mind his art Is pretty funky! i like to think that he has mild associative synesthesia, which bleeds into his work along with his disregard for art 'rules' and the like)

it's not a huge problem? just a minor nuisance. and as a plus, it means that those people will pay absurd amounts for Wally's pieces when he sells them (or is doing commission work)!

Wally has mixed feelings about it. on one hand, he does Not mind attention & loves to talk about his art and meet new people. on the other hand, a lot of his "fans" are overbearing / over-familiar and blatantly misinterpret him and his art. so while Wally loves attending art shows etc, whenever he recognizes one of his "fans" walking over he'll often make an excuse to leave for a minute (or one of his friends will act as sort of a bodyguard lol)

[petz5]

grabs him by the scruff of his neck like a kitten

[electoons]

my psychiatrist was trying to explain that a lot of my depression and anxiety probably stems from my trying to force myself into a (neurotypical/allistic) mold that i wasn't made for and that it's nothing to be ashamed of and she listed elon musk and bill gates as my fellow autists and that made me cry harder

[fallen-grace-smd]

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

I want to scream.

[cutesilyo]

concept: an animatic of legally blonde's gay or european with aseantalia, with piri as the gay defendant

[sereniv]

.

[iamthescalesofjustice]

you are john. it has been, what, like eight or ten months since you sent out the notices about the new round of lyctor trials? you have a weird dream one night and decide, on a whim, to check in on how the trials are going. 

you phone home (its not home, home is gone). no one picks up. thats weird, and kind of concerning, so you go to check. canaan house is empty, even of the constructs you left to act as bodies for the partitioned bit of your soul-conglomerate you left there. there seem to be a lot of weird zombies on various continents. whoops, looks like some of the partitions of your soul-network need to be tuned up. well, you can do that after you figure out where the contestants went. 

an extensive round of investigation later, you land on the ninth. yep, that sure does seem to be the missing contestants. and the canaan house priests. and cytherea is here, for some reason. probably plotting against you. and... oh, annabel, good morning. 

while you are getting stabbed by your cavalier, you cant help but notice that it looks like some of the contestants did, in fact, achieve lyctorhood. but uh, definitely not the way they were supposed to. 

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

You can also recognize someone by the sounds of their breathing. I do that with my family and it's hilarious when I know who they are when they're trying to sneak up on me lol

bruce is one of those people who can recognize others by the sound of their footsteps, their smell (and ONLY THAT), their voice, just like, anything really

and when other, normal, people find it weird, he just goes "well, tim does it too"

(that's NOT reassuring, bruce)

[attractthecrows]

🚶🏻‍♂️<- having the time of his life

[oetscop]

sorry i know police sketches are meant to be kinda uncanny so they stick in your mind, like they exaggerate features and all that. but whoever made the derrick todd lee sketch....bro. who the fuck is this bc its NOT HIM LMFAO

[midnightcarp]

caught up with Kill the Villainess again and hoo boy...........

[fakevalentine]

idk if this is too weird but would u be willing to write abby with a somno kink? like u waking up and she’s already strapping you 🤕🤕

female reader x abby anderson

you looked so peaceful, tucked into her sheets. you breathe steadily, completely relaxed in a deep sleep, maybe a dream playing on your brain.

admittedly, abby felt like a creep; running her big hands over your spread thighs resting over her own.

she swallows, watching the tip of her strap slide up your cunt, nudging and pushing against your clit. your eyebrows furrow in your sleep but you remain relaxed.

she brings one of her hands to her mouth, spitting on her fingers and lathering the end of her strap in it. she knew if you were awake, youd be squirming beneath her... lifting your hips up to try find the pleasure you yearned for.

but you just lay there, unconsciously adjusting your body on the bed for more comfort, clueless of what was going on between your legs

abby hums, shuffling closer. "so cute..." her thumb rubs against your clit and she notices how your hips shift, unknowingly getting wetter by the second

you roll your head on the pillow as she guided the strap into you. even in your sleep, you take it so well.

she groans like she can feel you wrapped around her, leaning over to stare down at you as she rocks her hips against you

you look so innocent, a contrast to know you usually do. she cant bring herself to admit that she likes it.

a whine suddenly escapes from your pouty lips, your face scrunching up and her hand grips the pillow beside your head tighter

she slides deeper into you, and it doesnt take long for you to wake up after feeling the ridges and veins of her strap rub against your g-spot.

your hands fly up to grip her broad shoulders, your eyes still heavy and begging to water. you moan against the side of her head, your nails digging into her skin. "abby..."

she pulls her hips back and slams into you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "'m sorry, baby... you just look so pretty."

[ddejavvu]

this is cheesy but when spencer and reader start getting more comfortable in their relationship and they exchange keys to each others places, reader starts going over while hes away. just to chill because she misses him or borrow something or get something she left. but then dhe notices his apartment is a little messy and he doesnt have a lot of food in the fridge.

the first time he comes home to a full fridge and clean apartment he's a little confused, but when he brings it up and she confesses hes just sooooo touched and appreciative.

the first time he comes home and shes asleep on the bed or couch or wherever he just MELTS. like an actual puddle on the floor kinda melting bc hes just so overwhelmed with love 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Spencer Reid is, quite possibly, the smartest motherfucker in the FBI. As an esteemed profiler, he notices right away that you've been in his apartment, from the post-it note grocery list sitting on the top of what's in his trash can, and a lack of dust over his kitchen counter like there typically is after he's gone on a case for a few days.

He spots 'donuts' on the list, and when he pulls the fridge open, lo and behold, there's a bag of mini chocolate donuts on the top shelf. He smiles to himself, giddily so, more than elated that you'd remembered an offhanded comment he'd made about liking them so much, especially when they're chilled.

He remembers everything anyone tells him, but people rarely stop to listen to his own words. So often it can be cast aside as nerd babble, so knowing that you'd picked up on the small tidbits of personal information he'd given you makes his seldom-fluttering heart do just that.

He feels a little bad that you'd stocked his fridge and ran, but he doesn't have to for long, because when he heads to the living room to drop his messenger bag there, and restock it with a different book, you're snoozing in his chair.

It's a recliner, one he'd splurged on so that late-night reading would be more comfortable. You've popped the footrest up, but your feet barely touch it, because you're curled up closer to the seat. Your head rests on one of the arms and is dangerously close to slipping off, so he kneels by the armrest, joints cracking.

His face hovers millimeters away from your own, your breath hitting his cheek and vice versa. He smooths a stray wisp of hair away from your face, leaning in to kiss the skin it had been covering.

"Hi, angel," He croons, keeping his voice as soft as humanly possible. He doesn't want to ruin this, whatever heavenly moment that the seldom-kind universe has decided to grant him.

Your lashes flutter at the feel of his lips on your skin, and you turn your face to lean into the touch you don't yet know is there. He can't help but laugh at the way you arch like a cat to be closer to him, and the breathy huffs fan out against your forehead.

His slender hand comes up to hover beneath your head, because when you worm closer to him, it slips off of the armrest. He holds your head up but you're finally starting to stir from the movement, and you lift it to blink groggily up at him.

"Spence?" You ask, like you're verifying his identity and not asking why he's home.

"That's me," He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. His hair is slightly sloppy, frizzed and out of place from the day's hectic activities. At his confirmation you hum sleepily, resuming your cat-like activities by shutting your eyes again, leading with your nose as you nudge your face into his own. From the angle you're at his lips can only pucker to hit an awkward spot between your cheek and your nose, but the skin there is warm and soft from a facial mask he knows you used last night.

"Morning," You grumble, and he won't inform you that it's 7 at night.

"Hi, sweetheart." He croons, unable to stand up straight before you decide you want a hug. It means his butt hits the floor when you lunge for him, and he laughs as he tries maintaining an upright position.

"Oh- ah!" He laughs, eyes scrunching in a gleeful smile-turned-laugh when you knock into him. He cradles the back of your head, feeling you settle into his embrace like he's your new reclining chair.

"'Missed you, Spence." You mumble against the fabric of his jacket that's covering his shoulder. He curls his fingers into your hair at your admission, stroking briefly through the strands.

"I missed you too," He agrees, "I saw you bought me donuts."

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I did." You recall, eyes already drooping again, "We can have some for- for dessert later."

"That sounds like a good plan," Spencer grins, but you can't see it where you're nestled into his shoulder. He's waiting for you to get up, not because he doesn't want to hug you anymore but because he wants to stand and move, but when you stay firmly in place he realizes you're sleeping again, and that there's no way he's getting off the floor in the meantime.

He could wake you, tell you it's time for a late dinner and ask you to work on the eggs so that he can chop up the add-ins for an omelet. He could corral you back into the chair and take the bed for himself, read for a bit after getting changed. He could do any number of things to make himself just a bit more comfortable, but instead he chooses to commit his butt to the floor, surely flattening it for all eternity. He scoots back carefully until his back is up against the couch, so that his less-than-perfect core strength isn't relied upon as much.

From there he rests, disinterested in using his phone and too far away from his bookshelf to read. But he finds just as much meaningful entertainment in counting the breaths that you release against his shoulder, as well as counting the different possessions of yours he can see scattered around his apartment.

Your shoes, one. Your water bottle, two. Your sweatshirt, three. Your snack, four. Your keys, perhaps the most meaningful possession of all, the spare that he'll never regret giving you, five.

[robintheredhood]

I know this isn't a new thought at all, but how many people at CatCo do we think know Kara's secret? I'm not talking about the Nia/James/Cat/Winn people, but random others.

Does Ed the janitor sigh in frustration everytime he finds Kara's clothes ripped off in the middle of the hallway, only to fold them nicely and hide them behind the nearest plant? (Kara still hasn't quite caught on that they aren't landing there naturally when she throws them to the side)

Does Taylor in security casually loop footage and cut out the moments where Kara dramatically displays the House of El symbol?

Does Lindsay from accounting just so happen to sit across from a balcony Supergirl likes to use to fly in and out of, hidden enough that Kara doesnt think twice about what shes doing?

And Eric, from HR. He noticed that Kara's excessively late clock ins and very early clock outs lined up perfectly with Supergirl helping with massive fights and emergencies. He casually reroutes all the automated emails to Kara's bosses that should be reminding them to write her up.

Even bringing it outside of CatCo. Is there young a barista at Noonan's who always slips Kara an extra couple of sticky buns. Because she saw Kara become Supergirl in the alleyway behind the building one time, and Supergirl saved her sister during an alien attack. It's not much, but it's what a girl living off of tips can do, and saving the city must be hungry work.

The young couple living across the street from Kara's loft have seen her fly in the window carrying ridiculous amounts of takeout on so many late nights.

All these people, the normal citizens of National City. Connected by a secret they didn't mean to learn and would never tell, or even confront her about. They're all just content to keep the secret, and if Kara finds doughnuts on her desk after a particularly hard fight, or her favorite sweater that was discarded pre flight dry cleaned and delivered to her door? That'll just be their little way of saying thank you