#BUT I AIM TO PLEASE

[ranchdressing3]

If Guzma were an HM whore what 4 HMs would he have?

can I use TMs instead of HMs. i’m gonna do that ok

1. First Impression

2. Taunt

3. Frustration

4. Brick Break

if you REALLY want HMs tho

1. Rock Smash

2. Strength

3. Cut

4. Flash

[greykolla-art]

My blog has become infested with angst goblins, and they must be fed with some hypothetical scenarios!🙏💚

[thedreadvampy]

people seriously pretending EEAAO is overrated suddenly bc it swept awards? it swept awards largely because it is very very very good. I cried like someone who's just had a religious revelation BOTH times I watched it bc it touched something raw and real and beautiful but it was also just very, very funny. everyone's performance kills and the concept is creative and interesting and doesn't distract from the emotional core. you guys are just contrarian.

[heph]

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[inkbybambi]

gaz bites when he kisses you. he’s not as aggressive as ghost or soap, not as intense as price but this boy will bite you until your lips are puffy and he swears he can see the indents of his teeth on your pretty mouth.

[heartorbit]

the star you've longed for

[wotterotter]

[splickedylit]

moggettt asked: Hey!! For art suggestions, possibly a Mike Chilton? Love that burner boi;; (I've been listening to Underdog by Kasabian and it has big motorcity vibes 🔥)

Yes!!!! Ah! My boy!!!!!! I saw a clip from Motorcity again the other day and it was Mike just cheerfully hopping backwards out of a window many stories up apparently just on the cheerful assurance that he'd figure something out on the way down, and. I love this fucking doofus. What a good main character lmao

Bonus: wet >>>>:(

[marblerose-rue]

new lioden king except ive had him for a couple weeks :-)

[mio-nika]

disgusting

Part 1

[shrimpfriednuts]

JUST BOUGHT A POUND OF PROVOLONE CHEEEEEEESE

So do y’all think Derek would bottom or what?

[yayll]

~ a little something about the unfathomable history between you and Dazai ~

"Shit..."

It's raining, and you're trying to light a cigarette in the rain. How banal, and yet, it was comforting to you. That's just who you were, trying to change the outcome of things that were doomed from the start... Like your past relationship with Osamu Dazai. It was a strange little bond, a rhythm only you and him could follow even if it was almost impossible to truly pin his true emotions down. To really feel him as yours. If you were attracted to danger and misfortune, he was a goddamn car crash. Still, that never stopped you from dreaming of a life with him, a real one. None of this inconclusive and melancholic back and forth, cowardice is what you really called it.

Though you could never tell that to his face, because then, you'd call it love. Love you had no problem showering him in, love you ultimately felt pushed him away when he decided to stop seeing you, disappearing with that very love... with all you had. That was a year ago. So now you're a little tipsy, and trying to light a cigarette in the rain because you don't have anything else to waste your time on. Or rather, someone to waste it on. You take out a flask, and chug down cheap whiskey, grimacing immediately after you swallow it down.

"No need to choke down that disgusting stuff on my behalf,"

A familiar voice calls out from the darkness of the street corner, where the lamp's flickering light threatens to black out in an instant. A dying flame, just like your lighter. You're already frozen, and stare at the void where the voice came from, telling yourself this can't be... not after all this time. You get a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You reply, voice meek and slightly slurred.

".. What?"

"What about what?" He mockingly calls back out, refusing to show himself just yet. In all honesty, he had been watching you from the corner for a while now, feeling a sense of sick satisfaction at the way you stupidly put any faith in that lighter of yours. Just like how you put your faith in him, and he squandered that as quickly as possible.

You look down, shaking your head as the rain washes over you, dripping down from your chin to your shoes. Every bit of your constitution is shattered when you realize you were a fool then, and you're a fool now. You tell yourself you can't let your heart warm up again, it needs to stay ice cold... What a joke. You scoff,

"Spare me the bullshit, Osamu"

You hear a soft laughter come from the shadows, and you wish you were six feet underground.

"Mm, I missed hearing you berate me~"

He says that so casually, and when his laughter settles, the rain takes over again. You look over at the flickering lamp post, as if you could see him directly, and roll your eyes, sighing. You call out, bitterly.

"Well I don't think about you at all."

And as you say that, the painful little ache between your brows walks out of the shadows and into the broken light, hands in the pockets of his tan coat, and soaked hair that somehow looked even better when it was disheveled. He clicks his tongue, and speaks in a low voice as he strides towards you, making your heart beat right out of your chest.

".. You should."

He says that like it's the most natural thing, a sly smile on his lips as he stares you down. He thinks you look utterly breathtaking even in your pitiful state. He thinks maybe he should kiss every little inch of your body for the rest of his life.

"Shut up."

"Oooh, that's the best you can do? Tell me to shut up?"

"I don't want to slap you in public, so this will have to do."

You spit back, your face twisted into a frown, one that's already stinging with the threat of breaking down into tears. You hate feeling something that's impossible, hoping the rain will wash it all away. Dazai smirks and raises a brow, his eyes are dark and knowing as he studies you.

You're exactly the same as you were a year ago. Full of life, even if you can't see it now.

"You're still so hot in your coldness. Predictable, but I love it. It reminds me of the time you and I-"

"What do you want, Dazai?"

Oh the way you switch to his last name makes his chest ache. His smile drops just a tad, and he looks down, looking like a wet cat as he clears his throat. His tone is sardonic, once again breaking you down as if you weren't the one making his hands tremble in his pockets. But he has a game to play...

"Just passing through, obviously. What could I possibly ever want from you?"

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

You feel yourself swaying, as if the rain was quite literally dragging you down... or maybe you were just drunk. Dazai finds it endearing how you ask such idiotic questions, that after all this time you still feel the need to know him. He slowly walks even closer to you, until he's inches away. His eyes soften, along with his voice, and a pang of bitter nostalgia hits you both at once. He reaches a hand out from his coat pocket, and takes the metal flask from you, his cold slender fingers dusting lightly over your knuckles for a second too long. He thinks you look even prettier up close, and decides to put you out of your misery.

"You want me to be blunt I suppose? Hm, that's awfully dull... I love you, silly."

It's like being staked through the heart when someone like Osamu Dazai says that to you. Your throat feels like it's closing, and your lip quivers ever so slightly.

"Don't be ridiculous. You don't have time to love."

A scoff escapes him, and he finds it irritating that you would say that, despite him knowing he's more than at fault for that very resentment you hold. Still, it doesn't make his own words any less true. He exhales, and looks at you with those cruel eyes, the ones that burn into the back of your head with scrutiny. He feels hollow, and it hurts deeply to feel this again after he swore he wouldn't let himself crave you. He shouldn't get what he wants, or else he'll wander the streets at night like a starving dog hoping he catches you at your lowest so he can pick up the pieces, and maybe one day not leave right after. Maybe he'd finally follow you home. You're weak, and it's rubbed off on him.

His voice comes out too pleading, too desperate, and too damn sincere. He's fucked.

"... Ah, you wound me... I'm making time on this lovely evening for you, no? Even if it's just for one ridiculous night, I'd like it to be with you. If you want to do worse things than just slap me you can do that too if it makes you feel any better. Kick me, scream at me, I don't really care. I have the time right now and we can do this."

You didn't even register when the tears started streaming, and you definitely didn't think he would know to tell them apart from the rain streaming down your flushed cheeks at the same time. Yet here he is, using his thumb to gently wipe them, the feeling of his skin against yours for the first time in a year is searing... It's punishing. You sniffle.

"Stop- Don't do this to me... Stop talking like that when I feel so empty...."

He flashes you a sad smile, a repenting smile. He almost looks human as he stares at you, searching for something. Anything.

"Then let me fill you."

He leans in, his nose touching yours, and his whisper sends chills down your spine. It's poison.

"Say you love me too. Like you used to."

"... I-I refuse to say it again. Especially in public."

"Say it in private, then. Say it hundreds and thousands of times for me. I can beg."

He nuzzles into your face, placing the lightest kiss on your cheek, and you can feel the way his lips curl into a smile against it. He wants to give you the kind of hope you only see in movies, but all he ever delivers is the carnage of a greek tragedy. Still, he wants you claim him as yours forever, even if he is a doomed man. Even if all you did was stick your finger in his wound he called a 'heart'.

"You always reduce me to nothing. It's exhausting." You mumble, pathetically.

"Nothing? Is that how little you think of yourself when I'm with you? Not only are you drunk, you're dense."

"I'm just saying. Us. Whatever we were. It was over before it even began."

Dazai interjects, bitterly.

"Don't say that, you're sounding too much like me."

"I'm just imitating you."

Oh, bless your inebriated lovesick little heart...

"You're nothing like me."

He speaks in a low and bitter murmur, as if not wanting to be heard at all. You could never come close to the atrocity that he is. The past was his mistress, it's why he left. But even in the past, he saw you too. You were there, you're always there.

He drops the flask, and it makes a loud sound as it falls to the floor, the rain pattering onto the metal making it echo. Before you can chastise him, he gently tilts your chin up and catches your soft petal lips in his, pressing into you as much as possible.

He wants to be so immersed in your essence that you become a part of him, selfishly so, and he wants to be a part of you. His tongue softly begs to enter your mouth, and the beautiful whimpers you make that reverberate against his lips cause him to wrap a hand around your waist and bring you closer, hold you tighter, as if you'd dissipate into nothing if his grip even remotely loosened. He needs to hear more of it, remembering how you used to be so embarrassed by how vocal you were with him before. He didn't mind it back then and he doesn't mind at all now, it is the most adorable sound he's ever heard in his miserable life.

You pull back from your kiss, a small string of saliva connecting your lips, and you look up at him, muttering as you try to catch your breath. You'd go to hell for that face alone.

"You'll stay right? You'll stay this time?"

Dazai looks down at you, eyes half lidded and breathing shallow. He smiles faintly and tilts his head to the side. He wants to crush that little dream of yours but he can't find the strength to slam his foot down. He knows he should pull away, he should leave and break your heart in hopes that you'll move on from the disaster he is, but he knows what you're pleading for. You're so naive, so goddamn perfect, he wants to laugh at the thought of him ever leaving you willingly again.

The overwhelming ache in his chest makes him realize he no longer has the upper hand in these games.. That he would rather make your dreams come true than to steal the light in your eyes... It's imperative. That as much as he denied it a year ago, he no longer has a game to play. He'll gladly suffocate in the warmth of your embrace, just how he imagines it every night before he falls asleep. He cups your face, and whispers with a familiar wink,

"... I'll tell you in private."

[videogamelover99]

Chuuya angst comic at 1AM?? More likely than you think!

Part 2

[quirkle2]

calling all witsu enjoyers 🗣️🔊📣🔊🔉📢🗣️🔊📢📣

[zer0pm]

Imagine having dated Luis Serra in the past only to be reunited with him literally chained to you.

“Another late night?”

A sigh. “Sí. Wesker wants another update on the new medicine my team is developing.”

“Didn’t you just send him a report about it this morning?”

“My thoughts exactly. But people like him, they’ll push because they can and keeping pushing until they get what they want.”

“Sounds familiar.”

The man stops typing away for a moment to turn and wink at you. “You like it when I push.”

You chuckle lightly in turn and pull up a seat next to Luis. The researcher welcomes you at his side, instinctively placing his hand upon your knee as soon as you settled onto the chair. His fingers dance upon the fabric of your pants, caressing the warm skin beneath while his other hand returns to the keyboard.

There is a tired expression upon his handsome face as he focuses back on the computer screen, but the tugged up smirk on his lips and the relaxed gleam in his beautiful grey eyes that appeared in the wake of your presence of you was unmistakable.

“It’s going to be awhile,” he says, a soft lull in his voice. “You should go home and get some sleep, mi corazon.”

You shake your head, returning him a gentle smile of your own. “I’ll wait, Luis. I don’t mind.”

“Can’t rest unless we’re in bed together?”, he says with a wag of his brows.

You quip back playfully, “We wouldn’t even rest if we’re in bed together.”

The Spaniard hums thoughtfully. “That’s a tempting thought. I better hurry up, then.” He leans his head against yours. “Pero, seriously. I don’t want to make you wait.”

A comforting hand reaches over to affectionately squeeze his muscles arm, “It’s fine. Stop worrying. As long as I’m with you, Luis, I’m happy.”

You feel him nod. The growing hairs along his fine jaw, softly scratching against your head. “Yo tambien. What is the expression, we’re… attached to the hip?”

“Practically chained together you and I.”

“Keep distracting me with ideas like that and we’ll never leave this place.”

—-

A deafening ring scratches against your ear drums, a dim light shines a dull pain in your eyes, and rusted metal scratches against your wrists. All these sensations awoke you gradually, a slow rude awakening. You’ve barely a moment to gather your wits and take in your surroundings before a familiar voice catches your attention.

“¿Estás bien? Are you hurt?”

It’s Luis, he sounded slightly disgruntled, but it did little to hide his evident concern for you.

You instinctively shake your head. “No. No, I think I’m okay. You?”

“Could be worse. Better than being in a musty burlap sack. And this time, I am in the presence of good company.”

Always the charmer. Some people just do not change, and when it came to Luis, that thought puts you at ease.

The last thing you remembered before coming to was finding Luis tied up in some basement. Leon was there, and another man, large and imposing, who approached the three of you unannounced. There were gunshots, and you recall a massive fist connecting with your head. That’s gonna bruise…

You look overhead to see your wrists clapped in irons and a pair of strong arms dangling alongside yours.

“Guess we ended up chained together, afterall.”

You feel Luis’ back slightly shaking against yours, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat. “I admit, this isn’t how I imagined it to be like either.” After a slight pauses, he sighs and calls you by name. “Pleasant talk aside, not that I’m not happy to see you again because… admittedly… I am- But what are you even doing here?”

You shrug. “Oh, you know. The views.”

The Spaniard scoffs. “Falsa. You’re a terrible liar. Always have been.”

Again, you deflect. “And what about you, Luis? This doesn’t exactly look like a cozy spot for a vacation.”

“I live here. Within the village. The house you found me under? Casa de mi infancia. My childhood home. It was, anyways, before…”

He paused. For a moment that felt like an eternity, he said nothing. It unsettled you.

“…Luis?”

He shifts a little behind you at your voice before a what sounded like a defeated sigh escapes his lips. “Joder. I was conducting research,” the man began. “After leaving Umbrella, I came back here to treat the villagers from a disease that has plagued them for a long time. Back then, it was bad. But now, it is much, much worse than when I left many years ago. I tried to help, but as you can see, I’ve had little success.”

Now it was your turn to fall silent. That was a lot to take in. After separating from Luis all those years ago, you continued to keep tabs on him. You made the excuse that you were simply monitoring his movements in case you were able to gather more information about Umbrella, but really, you just wanted to make sure he was okay. The last time you two spoke… it did not go well. And when he went off the radar, you thought the worst but never gave up searching. To say you were relieved to see him again and learn that he still practiced medicine for the benefit of others was an understatement. You feared that he may have gone off the deep end and we’re glad that you were wrong.

Luis speaks up when you said nothing. “Suppose it’s a good thing that you didn’t come here with me, after all.”

You pondered over what to say. There was plenty. You wanted to tell him that you missed him. That you thought about him every day. That you ended things between you two for his sake. But they all failed to reach your throat. Instead, you opt for a different truth. One that he deserves.

“I work for the government.”

When he doesn’t speak right away, you mentally prepared yourself for his anger and disappointment. You expected him to fly off in a rage and curse you a thousand times over, reproaching you for failing to come to him with this from the beginning. You expected him to question if your time together, if your feelings shared were genuine, and you were prepared to confirm that you and him were real. Instead, as often as Luis does, he surprises you.

“I know.”

You blink, your words faltering for a second. “Y-You know? What do you mean ‘you know?’ When- How-”

“After you left me. I did a little digging- on my own… and I learned some things.” He shifts to his feet and you followed suit, meeting his eyes. Despite their cold hue, his words came out warmly. You detect a hint of anxiousness from him. “I know why you did what you did, mi amor. Just wished you would have told me.”

Your heart flutters unmistakably from his term of endearment for you. You had to force your eyes down so as not to have your emotions betrayed to him even though it was already pointless at this point.

“I couldn’t…”

“I know.” Those little words again. “Still would have been nice to hear them, anyway. Well, perhaps not “nice”- Pero, it would have been ideal to try to work it out together.”

“Would you have wanted to at that point?” The question left you before you could bite it back.

Luis’ eyes sparkled at the almost hopeful tone in your voice. “With you, I want to do everything.”

This man is too good to be real. You wanted to hug him then and there, to pour out every apology known to man, to beg his forgiveness and declare your love for him. But the chains around your hands and the fear of rejection prevented you from doing so. However, the way Luis looked at you told you everything you needed to know, told you everything he felt and still feels for you, and you only hoped that your eyes said the same. Still, being one that wishes to validate their intentions, you opened your mouth.

Luis stops you. “Shh! You hear that?”

You focus your senses, trying to identify what he’s talking about. And sure enough, the distinct sound of garbled, inhuman groans reaches both of your ears. Your fists clench and your body tenses instinctively. This time, not of fear, but in disciplined alarm, ready to face any threat that dared to come your way. Luis picks up your stance instantly, a flash of amusement and admiration in his grey gaze.

“Now, despite my impressive physique, I’m actually not much of a fighter. So, would you…?”

You switch places with him before he could even finish his sentence, minding the chain that connected you both. The tall man reflexively shivers beneath your touch and as you left a hand lingering upon chest in a protective manner, he didn’t move away.

“Stay behind me and keep your distance.” You ordered sternly before throwing him a side glance, “And by the way, this discussion is far from over.”

“Muy bien. You got this.”

His tone was meant to be casual, but there was no denying the hint of admiration (and daresay lust) that rumbled within his thick throat. This was a side of you he has never seen. And although he can deduce that it comes from years of discipline and training; deep down, he knew your instinct to protect him comes from something much baser and more powerful. He knows, because he’s ready to protect you to despite his suggestion otherwise.

There was so much that needed to be said between you two. But that would have to wait until you were both safe. And without interruption.

“Just another long night, ¿si?”

As long as I’m with you, Luis, I’m happy.

You didn’t say it out loud. But he heard them all the same.

.

.

.

A/N: A continuation of Him.

Gif is also not mine, please support the original poster :3