#I’m taking mine :)

[overwhelmedandlonely]

[At a gala]

Janet Drake: Jack, honey, where’s the baby?

Jack Drake: Hm? Oh, Bruce Wayne asked to hold him. I figured he’d be safe.

[Bruce sprinting to the car]

Bruce: Alfred, start the car!

Alfred: Master Bruce, is there a problem? And why do you have the Drake child?

Bruce: Don’t worry about it, let’s just go.

Alfred: Sir, I don’t think the Drake’s would appreciate you abducting their baby.

Bruce: But-

Alfred: No “buts”, sir. Please return him, he is not an orphan.

Bruce: *under his breath* Not yet…

Alfred: SIR-

[lycanlovebites]

✧ bloodlust ✧

I'm starving, darling//Let me put my lips to something//Let me wrap my teeth around the world

[edit: thanks to all the love on this piece (which was just the WIP until now) I finally got the motivation to finish this after two months! Thank you to anyone who enjoys this for giving me the strength to finish this]

[mikichko]

just waking up delirious from a nap but cant get rid of the idea of price being interrogated by your friends.

night after your housewarming party, he steps out of your room bare chested and sweatpants low on his hips and finds your friends waiting for him.

they’ve never seen or heard of this man before. you only introduced him last night as john. the only indication of anything between the two of you was a constant point of contact between you two all night.

the questions start right away. name, age, occupation, how you met, what his intentions are. it’s all very entertaining to him, being on the other side of an incredibly juvenile interrogation attempt.

he takes it in stride though, not faltering for a moment as he starts to make himself a cup of coffee. price. ignores the age question, honestly kids these days lack decency and decorum. government worker. met at a bar. just trying to be a good man.

they don’t miss the way he doesn’t fumble through your kitchen. instead, moving through it with precision, knowing where every single item is.

and then finally, “what are you to them?” asked by the one in the back with curls, broad shoulders, and anger in his eyes that warms price all throughout. he doesn’t know he’s already lost.

he takes a sip of his coffee, mulling over the question and the last few months. shared drinks in the dark corner of an already shady pub. carrying your groceries in after you nearly tripped over yourself walking out of the store. books traded back and forth on park benches adorning a pond. stories repeated over a hot plate of dinner, the warmth softening john just a little more. your nails digging into his shoulders, legs wrapped around him, his mouth peppering kisses against your neck and mouthing words he can’t say out loud just yet.

he smiles against the rim of the cup, taking another swig.

“i’m, their caretaker.”

part 2 ?

[fairy-bard]

i’ve been loving watching critical role recently if for no other reason than because i get to watch a decent portion of viewers actively falling for cult tactics lmao

a forbes article describes cult tactics as when cult leaders “censor dissenting viewpoints, promote a distorted narrative and use relentless repetition and peer pressure”

ludinus needing to monologue at everyone he meets. cherry picking what information to let people know (ie the orb). showing popular world leaders (gods?) at their absolute worst as a means to win over the vulnerable. creating dissent between cult prospects and the people who they’re close to outside the cult. doesn’t take no for an answer. repeating his points over and over, in whatever context he thinks will be most persuasive. targeting people who’ve lost everything. convincing people that they’re special

matt is a genius.

[raplinenthusiasts]

7

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

✨ “Wouldst thou like to live deliciously?” ✨

[vvitchering]

Din’s new Nevarro neighbors realizing pretty quickly that the new guy will help you with anything if you ask him nicely. Got a leaky roof? He’ll climb up there and patch it and clean out the gutters while he’s at it. Old and need someone to run into town and pick up some groceries for you? How many potatoes do you need, ma’am? Some creep keeps harassing you? Don’t worry about it, it’s taken care of.

Din has all the thank-you pies, cakes, and pastries he and Grogu can eat.

[timethehobo]

Not even death will do us part.

[gruesome-beauty]

[trans-androgyne]

I love you, transmascs, with all my heart. I want to see you love yourselves. Your masculinity, your trans and queer masculinity, is beautiful and should be celebrated. You don’t have to be invisible and you don’t have to punish yourself for being a man or masc. Talk about yourself, talk about your experiences, be loud, take up space. Turn your body into a home in whatever form that looks like for you. You deserve safety and comfort, you deserve community and belonging. Surround yourself with people who will give that to you and don’t you dare settle for less. Remember that you’re a human too—your first responsibility is to yourself before you can help others. Take care of yourselves and each other out there. I love you.

[moonlitfalls]

welcome to strangerville 👽🌸🌵

[canon-can-fight-me]

Self shippers who don’t like to interact with the fandom their F/O is from because it makes you uncomfortable or any other reason, you are valid!

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

i'm happy •ᴗ•

[bruhstation]

you never change, do you

[adverbally]

Think of the Tender Things

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “‘Keep breathing, please.’” | wc: 773 | rated: T | cw: hospital, premature baby | tags: adoption, new parent anxiety, hopeful ending | title from “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” by Simple Minds

———

The NICU has its own window, far enough from the regular nursery to seem intentional. It makes sense to Eddie, theoretically speaking— keep the preemies and the sick babies away from the healthy ones so the comparison isn’t so startling. It just doesn’t work that well if they have to walk past the full-term nursery anyway.

They pause to observe the fat, happy newborns who will be going home in the next day or two. They’re all chubby cheeks and chunky limbs, round little tummies swaddled tightly with matching caps on their heads, just like the parenting books advertise.

Steve’s hand squeezes his, and Eddie knows he’s feeling the same thing: that’s how it should’ve been, and all of the guilt and fear and bitterness that goes along with that line of thinking.

They keep walking down the hall until they reach the door indicating the special care nursery. The glass there is smaller, since fewer babies fit in a room when they’re surrounded with incubators and ventilators and monitors galore.

The second bassinet from the right has a card with a stork that says “Baby Boy Munson” and wow, that’s going to take some time to get used to. Eddie gets closer, almost pressing his nose against the glass, to get a better look.

“He’s so small,” Steve says beside him. “I figured he would be, but…”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. It says right there on the little card: three pounds, thirteen ounces. Sixteen inches long. Not the smallest baby there but noticeably smaller than the ones they just walked past. “A lot of hair, too.”

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet after that. There’s not much they can comment on before they have to acknowledge the fact that they’ve just become adoptive parents a full two months ahead of schedule.

Their son (holy shit) seems even smaller with the tubes and wires obscuring him. Eddie identifies an oxygen cannula, a feeding tube, chest leads, an IV, and a blood pressure cuff, plus a few other lines he doesn’t know the purpose of. When you factor in a diaper that seems to dwarf half of his tiny body, there’s barely any skin visible. And from what Eddie understands, they’re lucky that more serious care isn’t necessary.

“Thirty-two weeks. That’s not… it could be worse,” Steve said after they got the call from the adoption agency that morning. The whole drive to the hospital, he rambled about lung maturity and the suck/swallow reflex and birth weight, going into one of Eddie’s ears and out the other as he tried to focus on the road.

Steve was the one who read all the books. Even the parts about premature births and what could go wrong throughout the pregnancy. “I’d just rather know and be prepared,” he explained. “Just to cover our bases.”

Eddie had skipped those chapters. It felt like bad luck, like tempting fate or something, as if avoiding it would prevent anything from happening. In retrospect, he wishes he had more of a clue about what’s going on, what their future will look like.

Any future seems far away when the present is so uncertain. Eddie watches his son squirm, with his too-long limbs and his too-big head, and he watches his chest rise and fall with each breath. His tiny lungs are working and he’s moving and none of his machines are beeping, and that has to be enough for now.

Just keep breathing, please, he thinks desperately. Keep growing and getting stronger and we’ll worry about the rest later.

When Steve breaks the silence, his voice is small. “Do you think we can hold him? Or, or touch him, at least?”

Eddie doesn’t want to. He knows it’s just his anxiety talking, but he’s terrified that he’ll pull some essential line or do something wrong. He was supposed to have another two months to prepare for this. How do people prepare for this?

“Ed, are you okay?” Steve’s voice startles him back into awareness.

“Yeah, just…” He pauses to think about how to say it without alarming Steve. He settles on, “I’m scared.”

Steve throws his arms around Eddie’s neck and pulls him into a tight hug. “I’m scared, too,” he confesses in a whisper. “I think we’re gonna keep being scared for the next eighteen years, but that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Eddie tucks his nose just under Steve’s ear and breathes him in, sweet shampoo and hints of spicy cologne in the collar of his jacket. They stay like that for long moments before Eddie sighs and pulls away with a decisive nod. “Okay. Let’s go meet our son.”

[xpupslxtx]

for context i am very tiny and our fwb said that she was a little nervous still about being with someone as small as me, so i told her im not made of glass, i wont shatter and she can be rougher than she thinks. she just said “okay.”

and then proceeded to fuck me so fucking hard. she dragged me around, threw me, choked me, slapped my tits, fucked me from the back and pulled my hair, i was cumming so hard and so many times on her strap i think i blacked out and saw god a few times