#Hey. Hi. Hello

[thirdtimed]

thinking about the jimmy scar pearl venn diagram and absolutely just disintegrating over it

[surviveds]

it seems to be a slow night at the bar... or perhaps it's just early. either way, buck sits awkwardly perched on a corner stool, shoulders hunched downward, staring dejectedly at his phone screen, reading and rereading the message from eddie: can't make it. christopher needs help with homework. maybe tomorrow. it's the latest in a recent string of hit-and-misses with them, promises made to hang out after work pushed back because of a number of reasons - all of which buck is sympathetic to, of course, his responses never less than understanding, but in this moment, his fingers hover above the keyboard, twitching with a neediness that burns from deep within his chest. he almost offers to come over and lend some aid; there's a veritable treasure trove of trivia facts in his head, after all, and who knows? some of it could be useful.

a practiced finger begins to type out the offer, only to pause mid-word, hesitation creasing buck's forehead for a brief second before his index finger furiously erases the sentence. he exhales an uneven breath, glances around at the middling crowd almost self-consciously, as if someone could see the sudden wave of doubt that washes over him, while an almost guilty hand shoves his phone into his pocket - out of sight, so that he can't torture himself by staring at the message any longer.

he turns his gaze instead to the meager dregs of beer in his bottle, grimacing at the sight. his eyes raise with the intent to call alden over, but the man's already on top of it, standing before buck with a fresh bottle, small drops of condensation rolling down its neck, and buck feels a smile quirking the corner of his mouth upward - surprising, given the sourness that'd begun to pool in the back of his mouth.

"my man," he says with an inclination of his head, accepting the drink. their fingers brush together with the action, a rush of warmth flooding from the point of contact, prompting buck to shudder - it rolls across him, quick, violent, and he clears his throat loudly, squeezing his fingers around the bottle. "it's like you can read my mind sometimes." @doomdays ♥

[40ep]

quinn hughes + nhl25 teasers

[guaxinimraccoon]

"I hope you understand what you're getting yourself into when siding this... thing, Tobias. You can't regret it later"

"I regret not doing it sooner"

[dinoserious]

chit chat

[okaydays22]

[dreamlandbarnes]

is this anything

[bunny-cncunt]

I really wanna rape a cute needy bunny, just totally break a sweet little boy into a perfect like fuck pet, know any takers?

uhhhh yeah i know a guy 😳

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 126

You know what would be hilarious? 

Constantine comes into one of those meetings as he sometimes does every blue moon. Though the proper word would be storms into a meeting and practically slams a whole stack of papers down. “Can someone bloody explain to me why the American-fucking-government is trying to go to war with the fucking Infinite Realms?!” 

The Justice League is of course alarmed and confused- and also John weren’t you in Hell?! Yeah, he was, where the fuck do you think he found out about this? 

Now if you’ll excuse him he’s going back to the House of Mysteries with his now haunted trench coat. John, John Constantine what the fuck do you mean by that? No don’t just leave, don’t leave this mess just for them- JOHN! 

[sunw13d]

[rhetthammersmithhorror]

The Outer Limits | S1.E14 | The Zanti Misfits | 1963

[spearxwind]

DEBRIEF/// [ VANDAL SQUADRON ]

[f1-stuff]

Austrian GP '24 // P4 in Quali

"I felt the car may be a bit faster, but I also felt it potentially a bit trickier to drive, a bit trickier to put a lap together. But, at the same time, I think we made some progress... Very tough race tomorrow with the Mercs - I think Oscar, sooner or later, will pass us in a 70-lap race."

[saudariel]

ADAR and GALADRIEL in THE RINGS OF POWER 2.07 Doomed to Die

[cheshirecat-syndrome]

Red Room.

[mygnolia]

everytime sunghoon wins a rugby match he pulls at his jersey and jumps with his friends, sweat clinging to his hair and gleaming over his perfect skin. he’s so attractive when he’s victorious, a knowing smirk as he hears the intercom announce yet another smashing win. and yet through all the noise, through the pats on the back and the itch of the padding, he sees you near, jumping to your friend in a jersey identical to his—you’re wearing his old jersey with 12 to represent december, and the number on his to represent your birthmonth.

and the kiss after? oh, you’d kiss him no matter how gross he is. park sunghoon with a smirk and your number on his jersey is a man you are lucky to call yours.