#blooming-shark

[massivechildshark]

[thranduilofsmirkwood]

[yloiseconeillants]

MAYNCIENT :: Day 7 - Familiar

Protomyke 987 : A variety of fungus identified in the Chlorophospond, and deceptively unintelligent even given the low expectations such a description establishes.

[batfamiliar]

I forgot that the original reasoning for using fairy dust to become smaller was that winx needed to have pure souls to get to the water stars, so they used the fairy dust to purify themselves. which means that bloom’s fairy dust seems to work perfectly fine on everything except on herself and implies that her incomplete enchantix powers can’t purify her fully - there is darkness inside of her that she just can’t get rid of

[pigeonwithapen]

Solarmoonbeam's Ketsus! [ID in alt]

[radicalhighway]

is there a worse betrayal than when u have a dr peppy and it immediately makes u nauseous

[starryeyedco]

Always searching like I never found

Always floating like I can’t see the ground

Always fighting like it’s the last round

Always want you to ride me like we in the dog pound

I kiss her goodbye and then I tell you lies

I wish I was bad but you know how I try

Put me out of this misery put me in a high

[paperultra]

hammock.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 866 words Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive

“You’re blushing.”

“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”

You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.

“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.

His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”

“Not even if you hated me?”

“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”

(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)

Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.

Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”

He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”

The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.

“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”

The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.

You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.

“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”

“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”

“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”

He visibly droops. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”

The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.

You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.

“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)

“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.

With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.

“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”

“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”

Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."

“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”

“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”

The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.

“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”

[hopefulpoetrytraveler]

wZ73nh

CLICK HEAR TO HAVE SOME FUN!

[sayoneee]

☆ AND I KNOW IT’S OVER (STILL I CLING)

percy jackson, who never seems to know when to quit, keeps coming back. (2.9k)

contains: percy jackson x daughter of minor god! reader. post tlo (alt universe - everyone lives). book percy descriptions. apollo (derogatory).

kashaf’s note: book percy descriptions bc that was my first love. (sry if i get some of the words wrong, english isnt my first language pls be patient!!)

SUMMER BURNS. at camp half-blood, the scorching heat has dwindled to soft caresses, from the heat of the fire during sing-alongs where your cabin joins hands and toasts marshmallows to the cool breeze balming the sun’s glare at its zenith in the sprawling strawberry fields. at home, the scorching heat leaves marks — the biker with flames for pupils who clutched an openly bleeding wound as he thrust a first-aid kit at you, and the girl not much older than yourself with tears marring her face as she handed you a pregnancy test to ring up, avoiding your curious (sympathetic) gaze.

however, despite it all — you stand infallible, much like your grandfather’s part convenience store and part pharmacy, a poor man’s family heirloom.

you stand idly, flipping through an edition of seventeen when the rusty door swings open to admit a familiar face — with unruly black hair and an equally reckless grin (you know exactly who it is from the ba-dum of your heartbeat), the infamous son of poseidon (with the same smile as shawn hunter from boy meets world) is easily recognizable.

you glance at the crimson blooming around the crevices of his knuckles, tightly gripping a faded and worn-out skateboard, his scruffy converse squeaking across the tiled floor, raising an eyebrow as you coolly say, “band-aids are in the back, on the right.”

jackson laughs, an all-consuming sound (the wind-blown half-blood hill where apollo seemed to smile down at you, the laughter, like the memory, evanescent), “thanks, doc.”

you discreetly watch him perusing the aisles, before stopping in front of the ancient fridge — your grandfather’s store was something of an 80s pompeii with the peeling posters of back to the future and motley crue and the antiquated maroon and cream color scheme — and pulling out an arizona green tea.

when he finally goes to look for band-aids, you attempt to fix your attention back on the magazine in your hands, but like a moth driven to a flame, percy jackson was unbelievably hard to look away from (a magnet among mortals and immortals alike). 

jackson’s hands are on his hips, his tupac t-shirt creasing, thick brows furrowed as he decides between different types of candy with the same intensity as a single mother with two children and a nine-to-five (even in the mortal world, there is something else entirely about him, something that made it so that you could never truly write him off).

when he approaches the register again, it’s hard not to look up and watch his ascent. when he finally does come to a stop in front of you, he looks the same as he did the last summer, though the tiny silver trident earring is new, the camp beads resting peacefully atop his collarbones aren’t.

you ring up his items: a box of band-aids, the arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks, looking away from him all the while.

“good to see ya, doc,” jackson says, a wry grin on his face, and his eyes are so green — as green as they were at twelve.

“it’s never good to see you, jackson,” you snark back, reciting his total, “four ninety-five, by the way.”

he laughs again (your heart goes ba-dum again), and hands you a five dollar bill, shoving his things into the seemingly bottomless pockets of his baggy jeans, with a salute on his way out (his turning back was a sight far more innocuous than the last time).

the next time jackson breaks whatever tacit agreement lies between the two of you, your hands are similarly stained. reds and purples line your palms, much like the burgundy seemingly permanently staining your grandmother’s fingertips; the culprit (the bowl of pomegranate seeds) sits innocently beside you. 

“back again?” you say, glancing at the familiar scarlet stains adorning jackson’s hands (a familiar blue friendship bracelet sits on his wrist, edges frayed with five years of wear, and there’s a lump in your throat). 

“why, did you miss me?” jackson asks, again with that wry grin of his, skateboard in hand. 

“you’re the one who came back,” you say, crossing your arms across your chest, willing the constricting feeling to disappear.

“doc, i’m sorry to have to be the one that has to break this to you,” he sighs sympathetically, putting a bleeding hand over his heart, “but the sun doesn’t revolve around you.”

“actually, jackson, the sun kind of does revolve around me, ‘cause y’know apollo, the sun god apollo? my grandpa apollo? my grandpa, the sun god, apollo?” 

“going by your logic, that would mean time revolves around me, ‘cause y’know kronos, the time titan kronos? my grandpa kronos? my grandpa, the time titan, kronos?” jackson says, a shit-eating grin on his face as he sets down another band-aid box, an arizona green tea, and a pack of blue gummy sharks on the counter.

“y’know, if you cared this much, you might’ve passed greek,” you say, referring to the progress report cards you were handed at the end of summer.

he shrugged, handing you another five dollar bill, and proceeding to shove everything into his black holes of jean pockets, “yeah, well — wait, are those pomegranates?”

“yeah,” you say, “i peeled them myself — do you want some?” 

(your father liked these, your grandmother had said earlier this afternoon, your mother liked to peel them for him, as i peeled them for her, and your grandfather.)

jackson suddenly looked bashful, fidgeting with the hem of his a tribe called quest t-shirt, “i’ve never had pomegranates before,” he confessed.

you blinked, taken aback, “you’re seventeen years old and you’ve never eaten a pomegranate before?” you pushed the china bowl toward him, “now you have to eat it.”

“my mom liked telling me the myths when i was younger,” he begins, setting down his skateboard, and reaching for the spoon before halting, like he was shocked, “she told me about persephone —”

“jackson,” you say, sardonically, leaning over the register to look him in the eye (there was always a storm brewing in his eyes), “i promise you, hades won’t come out of the ground and drag you to the underworld if you eat the pomegranate seeds i peeled.”

“i know what my next sleep paralysis demon is gonna be — thanks to you,” jackson says, looking down at the bowl and its floral blue pattern around the edges, playing with the spoon, and shifting the seeds from side to side.

“percy jackson, i swear to asclepius, you’re missing out on pomegranates,” you say, coming out from behind the register, and looking percy in the eye again, and there is something so earnest, so raw about your next sentence that his breath catches, “and, i swear on the styx, if hades does somehow come out of the ground to drag you down to the underworld, i’ll come down myself to drag you out, even if it’s tartarus.”

a rumble of thunder can be heard overhead despite the clear sky and scalding sun; percy blinks, before breaking out into a slow grin (your stomach seems to grow wings of its own, on the verge of flight.)

“invoking your dad, huh, doc? these pomegranates must be serious,” percy says, finally taking a bite — stepping around the bomb you just dropped.

you watch him intently, studying him as you studied tennyson and homer, “they are that serious.” there is something innocent about the way he eats, starved like every other teenage boy with black holes for stomachs. 

“y’know, i can put that into a tupperware container and you can take it with you, right?” you offer. 

“really?” percy asks through a mouthful of seeds, looking up from the bowl at you, “won’t you think i’ll steal it or something?”

“not really,” you shrugged, “i trust ms. jackson.”

percy nods solemnly — sally jackson is sally jackson after all, a queen among women, and an achilles of sorts, with her soft smile and steely eyes. 

steeling your nerves, this is already the longest conversation you’ve had (ignoring the forever-ago late-night debriefs under a firmament of stars), you step up to the plate and take a swing, “how is she, by the way, haven’t seen her in a while.”

percy swallowed, eyebrows furrowing, “great — oh, wait, did i tell you she was seeing someone new now?”

“no way, really? good for her, honestly. i know, poseidon’s a god and all, but like, she’s always deserved just, so much more.” (you manage to make contact with the change-up thrown your way.)

there is something so sincere about your words, that percy can’t help but grin back, finally reaching the depths of his sea-green eyes, and there is something still so boyish about him, that you can hardly believe any time has passed at all, and that somewhere within this demigod who successfully defeated kronos, while saving luke, there is still a semblance of your percy. 

“yeah, the guy, paul blofis, he’s an english teacher — absolutely worships the ground she walks on.”

“sounds perfect for her.”

“you should come over some time — see her, meet paul, y’know,” percy offers, still funneling spoonfuls of pomegranates, meeting your gaze head-on (this is the home run you were waiting on).

you grinned, a slow smile overtaking your face, pushing your hands in the pockets of your jeans, “might just take you up on that, before you change your mind.” (you’re leaving the ball in his hands now; it’s up to him to tag you out or let you reach home base safely.)

“nah, i won’t change my mind, unlike someone else i know.”

you ignore the jab (a smaller, suppressed part of you itches to shoot a reply back), instead choosing to focus on the hesitant hand of friendship being offered — as your father liked to say, keep moving forward.

you shrugged, and you swear, for a second you think the intensity of his gaze has lessened, almost as if disappointed. almost as if mentally shaking it off, percy hands you the china bowl back, empty, running a hand through his shaggy hair with a sheepish grin.

you smiled wryly, glancing down at the bowl and back to his face. “fatass,” you say, affectionately, and then almost freezing, wondering if you somehow overstepped the invisible lines constricting you. 

percy laughs — a green light. 

“lucky for you, though,” you say, disappearing behind the register for a moment before reappearing with a tupperware container filled with peeled pomegranates, “i peeled more.”

you hold it out to him, and he glances down at your outstretched hand, then at your face, before seemingly making up his mind, and accepting the olive branch, “you’re really committed to seeing my mom, huh?”

“well, obviously — the other alternative would be seeing you, wouldn’t it?”

“aw, c’mon, doc, i know you missed me,” percy says, a bit smug, picking up his skateboard, the tupperware container in his other hand (the one he still wears your bracelet on).

“in your dreams, jackson.” there is a peal of odd laughter in your voice as if you were unused to this kind of jocularity when fumbling over his name.

“in my dreams, we do more than just argue,” percy says, with one last smug smile and salute, before walking out the door, leaving you behind in the worst state of confusion you’ve possibly suffered (percy jackson: 1, you: 0).

(your grandmother admonishes you later that evening as you stand beside her stooped figure at your kitchen counter, peeling pomegranates, you gave the rest of it to that boy, didn’t you? her voice is not scolding, but you feel like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar once more. your immortal grandfather, the nuisance that he is, stands in the doorway, hands in an 80s leather jacket and matching sunglasses, waiting to be welcomed in. in contrast, his son — your father — brushes past him, grumbling, and takes on your grandmother’s burden.)

the analog clock reads ten fifty-five as you start mopping the floor, yawning when the front door swings open with a jingling bell, and a sharp metallic smell wafts into the store.

you whirl around, gripping the mop in your hand as a baseball bat, immediately alert as your demigod reflexes come into play. you physically relax at the sight of percy clutching his side, crimson pooling on the edges of his white t-shirt. 

“of course you would attack a man when he’s injured,” percy says with a grin, blood dripping from a gash over his eye (luke had returned to camp some years ago, with a similar scar), and a split lip, collecting like rust on his t-shirt collar. 

you scowled, dropping the mop and immediately rushing toward him, your healing instincts kicking in. lifting one of his arms and letting it curl around you, you shouldered him to the register, cringing with every audible wince percy let out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked, as you sat him on your stool, reaching for the ambrosia and nectar you kept hidden under the counter for emergencies (one could never be too careful).

percy grinned — it came out more of a grimace, “what isn’t wrong with me — that’s the question you should be asking, doc.” he nodded to himself, and then immediately cringed at the action.

you glared at him, shoving an ambrosia square in his mouth, before turning away from him to put antiseptic on cotton pads. “does ms. jackson know you’re here?”

“no?” percy says. you walk over to the fridge, grab a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and drench the part of his t-shirt covered in blood.

“ow? in case you forgot, i’m still injured here, doc?” percy clutches at his side.

“you dumbfuck, your mom is probably worried out of her mind right now,” you say, scowling, stepping closer to percy (he still towers over you, even when sitting down).

“i iris messaged her,” he shrugs, looking at you as you shift even closer to him, cotton pad in your hand, “she just knows i’m with you — pretty relieved at that, dunno why.”

reaching out to grasp his jaw in your hand, you begin dabbing at the bruises on his cheekbones, his eyes fluttering shut as you try to ignore the way his hot breath is fanning across your face right now. “you didn’t tell her what happened?”

percy opened his eyes, staring at you. “no, how could i?” he says, slowly, “you were her favorite — still are, by the way.”

you don’t say anything for a moment — after all, how could you? (sally jackson’s homemade cookies drift to the front of your treacherous mind — the sunny afternoons with her kind voice, and percy’s loutish laughter.)

“you didn’t come to see her,” percy says, the statement not accusatory, his eyes fluttering shut again (you try not to let the way his eyelashes sit so prettily distract you) as you dab at the gash over his eye.

“i didn’t think i was welcome,” you say gruffly, turning away to grab bandages. “after everything.”

while the deeper wounds have eased into far easier, superficial ones, you still make sure to wrap and bandage everything — percy had a penchant for getting into trouble (one that you knew all too well), so it was the least you could do.

“i just told you that you were welcome, last time i was here, didn’t i?” percy says, an accusation.

“yeah, well, it was hardly an invitation was it?” you say, turning away from him, packing your supplies up. 

“doc, you didn’t even come to take your tupperware back.”

you ignore him, moving to walk away when his hand is enclosed around your wrist (the hand that wears your blue friendship bracelet), tugging you around to face him. 

percy’s standing up now, his green eyes looking more like a swirling storm with each passing second — he still hasn’t let your wrist go.

“what do you want from me?” you ask, trying to snatch your hand back from him, to no avail — his grip is ironclad.

“i can’t let you walk away with your back turned to me again,” he says (the dim, lantern-lit night comes back into focus, and you wonder if you were too consumed by your own pride, if you had just turned around, if you had just stayed).

you realize too late that tears are pricking in the corners of your eyes, and you manage to successfully wrench your hand out of his grasp, a watery, sarcastic laugh escaping, “you’re a couple years too late, asshole.”

“i know that,” percy says, earnest, reaching out to cup your cheek, and wipe a stray tear (the action stuns you into paralysis), “but i miss you, and my mom misses you, and she hasn’t gotten off my case about you, yet.”

the thought of tender-hearted sally jackson scolding percy is an amusing one, and draws a laugh out of you against your will (percy’s smile grows a little brighter, and asclepius knows you’ve never been able to resist that smile of his), “i’ll come over for ms. jackson, not you.”

percy’s smile is even wider now (his hand is still ghosting your cheek), “same thing.”

“shut up,” you say swatting at his shoulder, trying to duck out from under his arms. 

percy avoids your attempts to escape him, instead latching onto your hand, and pulling you out of the store. “c’mon, she’s expecting us for dinner.”

you let out an incredulous laugh, and let yourself be dragged out anyway (you would follow this boy anywhere, even to the depths of tartarus). 

(your grandmother watches from the apartment window above the store, a soft smile gracing her lined features.)

[natalievoncatte]

Kara knows, and that’s the problem.

She knows.

How does she know?

To put it simply, she’s Kryptonian. More specifically: a Kryptonian under a yellow sun, whose wavelengths of light bring forth her genetic heritage when she basks in its rays. If long lost Rao was once her father, Sol is her mother, raising her up to be all that she can be. A creation of a lost super-science, a power to rival gods, a force that made the Guardians tremble in their emerald tower.

Kara can see everything.

The world is alive with light. It cascades and bounces and caroms off of everything. More than that, Kara’s world is bathed in a thousand thousand hues the human eye will never know. When she looks at a person she can see the electrical conductivity of their skin and the heat bloom of their flesh and a myriad of other details, some of which other humans can pick up on a subconscious level, others that humans haven’t even discovered yet.

Kara can hear everything.

She can hear dog whistles and butterfly wings beating and the secret language of cats. She can hear the crackle of radio waves beating the atmosphere and the music of the spheres. She can memorize human heartbeats and pick out the slightest variation, the tiniest wobble that the owner of the heart never feels.

Kara can smell everything. She can sift between the scents of ingredients in her honey bun, detect poisons in a friend’s wine or flowers in a park half a state away. Sharks would be jealous of her. She can scent people but also their moods; fear smells horrific, sickly sweet and rotten. Joy smells hot and bold. When someone walks in the room, she can tell what they had for breakfast, smell of they’re sick, pick out the fragrances of their emotions.

Kara can feel everything. A touch can betray or affirm. To hear a heartbeat is one thing, to feel it another. Her fingertips can read the surface of another’s skin like braille and she can detect the slightest changes in temperature or perspiration, feel the thrum of contentment or fear in an embrace. Her touch is not dulled by her invulnerability. It as sensitive as her other senses.

Kara can remember everything. The day she stepped from her pod into the brilliant golden sunlight beneath a blue sky was the last time she would every forget; her now empowered brain can recall events in the finest detail, down to the soft timbre of another’s voice or the way her hair fell over her shoulder or the softness in her gaze. And so Kara’s memory is hers to be kept forever, never to lose the sight of her.

That is how Kara knows, and knowing that Lena Luthor loves her is a pain so terrible that she almost wishes she could be spared that pain. When Lena sees Kara, her heart leaps and her breath softens and she comes alive with light, bathed in an auric glow more beautiful than a red sunrise. Kara wishes that Lena could see herself as Kara sees her. Radiant, angelic, a little holy.

Lena loves Kara Danvers, the bumbling awkward nerdy shy girl from Vaguely Canada who brings her burgers and donuts and OTPs.

She doesn’t love Supergirl and Kara doesn’t think she could.

That’s how the torture happens. Kara’s infinite perception becomes a self-imposed exile. She sees and smells the way James lusts after Lena, right in front of her. Baffled, she listens to the calm in her heart when they kiss and once she wakes frantically in the night, reaching about to sift through the city soundscape when she hears Lena’s voice cry out, then the sound of Lena’s heart racing and other sounds, and not for the first time, she pleads with a god she doesn’t know to make her human and free her from this curse.

She seeks feeling of her own. It’s pleasant enough but it lacks something undefinable, like a pleasant chocolate cake that becomes unbearable because she could have had something far sweeter and more filling instead. He tries in a fumbling way but it’s to please his own ego more than sate her desire. Then one day he is gone and in his absence all Kara can feel is a dull numbness, a ragged wound with all the nerves scraped out so that only a dull absence has been left behind, leaving her broken in a way that cannot be defined much less repaired.

Kara cannot help but snap her attention to the sound of Lena growing agitated, no matter how distant or minor. She hears harsh words and the heavy thud of a limo door closing and hears the sharp intake of breath as James realizes the mistake he’s made, and though he is her friend and he matters to him she feels a feral, possessive joy that borders on the cruel. It is a hard feeling, a red feeling, a sharp smelling mean feeling that tastes cold on her tongue, this resentment of the man for having a pale shadow of what she could have but wouldn’t.

Lena loves Kara Danvers and Kara Danvers loves her back, but she can never know because to know she must know all of her. Know the Other, the Super, the Alien.

Kara is two people and one of those people has been, well, a bitch.

Because Kara feels spending else. A green feeling, a sick feeling, the feeling of blades flensing flesh from bone while her veins turn to glass and her body burns to ash, the shocking pain of a little piece of home. A little piece that Lena made and didn’t tell her, and Kara makes the worst mistake.

She stops being Supergirl and is just Kara Danvers in a colorful suit, angrily refusing to ask Lena the question: I love you, how could you do this to me?

She does love her. She loves her laugh and her secret smiles and how soft she looks when she’s deep in thought. She loves the pain in her, the mirror of her own. She cherishes it as she wants hers to be cherished, held close by someone who knows what it’s like to watch your world explode or slip beneath still waters and be gone forever. She knows what it’s like to wonder what could have been and know the price you paid for what you have now.

She wants Lena so terribly that she’d almost choose the pain of Kryptonite instead of an eternity of this longing. She needs her, craves her, thirsts for her.

One night Kara realizes what she’s been doomed to. Another will succeed where James failed, and Kara will be spared none of it, and it will endure forever. She will carry memories of Lena in another’s arms into the sun dies.

No.

“I don’t know why I agreed to this,” Lena says.

Kara -Supergirl- says nothing at first.

“I have to fly you.”

Lena nods. She’s doing this for Kara, because Kara asked. When Supergirl extends a hand, Lena takes it and Kara gently lifts her from the ground into a bridal carry, and they fly.

The trip takes nearly an hour. Kara can’t fly too fast or too high. Lena accepts it without complaint.

They land far north of National City, where the warmer climate yields to deciduous rainforest. Kara brings them down on a bare hilltop, an island in a vast ocean of trees. Nearby on a folding table is a basket. It might be important later or it might not. She might have a life of joy or she might spend the rest of forever in a wasteland, waking each day to grief.

There’s only one way to find out. Part of her, the part that hopes, the part that makes her Supergirl, believes in this, in herself, in this moment. She has to, because the chain of events that led her here, flung across endless space to stand in starlight with the most beautiful woman in this world, it demands that it happen. This is fate. It has to be.

Supergirl stands beside Lena. She raises an arm and points.

“There. Second star on the left, and straight on till morning.”

Lena quirks an eyebrow and looks at her.

“You brought me out here for this?”

“Do you see that red light?” Kara asks. “It’s very faint. I don’t know if a human can see it or not.”

“I just see stars.”

“It’s Rao, my sun. I can see him. If I had a powerful enough telescope, I could see it. Krypton. The explosion won’t be visible to Earth for a thousand years.”

Lena looks up, her features bathed in moonlight- alive with a chaotic explosion of hues she’ll never see. She blazes in the night, her eyes a kaleidoscope from which Kara can never truly look away. She’s a rainbow.

Kara falters. Whatever she does tonight, this is it. This is forever.

“You said Kara would meet me here,” Lena says.

“Wait here, please.”

Kara turns quickly and walks into the dark, cape spreading behind her. Once she’s out of sight, she changes without restraining her speed, and walks back to Lena in a hoodie and leggings, hair in a loose ponytail and the back of her neck and hands in her pockets.

She walks back to Lena and stands beside her.

“Hello, Kara.”

“Hi, Lena.”

There is a tense silence between them. Kara devours the moment, consumes it so it will live forever, just in case this is the last time she sees Lena.

“We’re not far from the reservoir,” says Lena. “Why did you ask Supergirl to bring us here?”

Kara swallows hard. “I realized something really important near here.”

Lena turns to her. “What was that?”

“That there was someone who mattered to me a lot, and that I was willing to risk a lot to protect her. There was a moment where I thought I was going to have time make a choice, you or the chemicals. I didn’t have to but I would have. I would have picked you. I will always pick you. I can’t help it.”

Lena is not stunned. Her heart doesn’t miss a beat, but Kara can sense her apprehension, her fear, and something deeper than that.

“You’re Supergirl.”

Kara lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and her legs wobble. There it is. It’s done. She’s free.

“I should have told you sooner.”

“You should have. You should have told me when we fought about the Kryptonite. I thought you would, hoped you would. I wanted you to so desperately, wanted you to trust me.”

Kara’s heart sinks.

“Wait, you knew? How?”

Lena laughs softly.

“The way you touch me. When you pick me up and carry me somewhere, you have this way about you. When I’m in your arms I feel like I’m the most precious thing in the world.”

“You are,” Kara says.

“That and you told me you flew to my office on a bus.”

Kara makes a small, choked sound.

“Oh.”

Lena scuffs the heel of her boot against the ground.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared. I thought if I did, you’d see it as a confrontation and feel threatened. What about you?”

“I’m Kara. Supergirl is something I do, not what I am. When I’m with you I’m just me. I lose that with everyone when they find out. Kara isn’t my secret identity. Supergirl is. I’m just me. I just want to be me, I need to be me, and when I’m with you I am most myself. It’s like laying down all my burdens.”

“Same,” Lena said, softly. “You’re the only one who doesn’t treat me like an extension of my brother.”

Kara sighed. “Should we talk about the Kryptonite?”

“No,” Lena says. “Fuck the Kryptonite. Why’d you bring me out here?”

“To tell you.”

“Great, you told me. What did you think would happen next?”

“I thought you’d be mad.”

Lena nods and seems to think about that for a moment. Her pulse has quickened and her jaw is tight.

“Let me ask you a different question. What did you want to happen?”

Kara swallowed hard. “What I wanted was… for us to make up. Be friends. Work it out. I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena turns and looks at her.

“Bullshit.”

Kara flinches.

“That’s bullshit, Kara, and we both know it. You’re a terrible liar. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the staff at CatCo know who you are. Don’t lie to me. Please. Give me the truth.”

Kara looks up briefly, past Lena. She sees that faint red glow and her heart swells in her chest.

“I love you. That’s the truth. I’ve been in love with you probably since our first lunch together and I want you so badly that I can’t breathe when I think about it. I know a dozen languages and half of them aren’t from Earth, and there aren’t enough words in all of them to tell you how kind and wonderful and beautiful you are. I love you so much that sometimes I think,” Kara fights the tightening of her throat, “I think I’m almost glad that I’m here and not back up there under that red glow. I don’t think I could choose a life without you.”

Lena lets out a long breath and Kara is bombarded with sensations. Lena’s pulse races and her shoulders relax and her skin blooms with an ethereal luminous riot of color.

“I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

Kara can taste everything.

Right now the only thing she can taste is Lena.

[massivechildshark]

[soranatus]

DC’s Spring Breakout (2024) anthology, John Timms main cover

Spring has sprung! Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, Harley is breaking King Shark out of Belle Reve prison…all is right in the DCU as both heroes and villains face all sorts of different spring breaks. Breaking out of a coffin? Lex Luthor has that covered. Spring break training? Send in Superman! Breaking out of your shell? Batman and Mr. Freeze explore that possibility through a connection in their shared past. Breaking down a worthy adversary? Katana and her sword of souls might just be able to tackle that. And it wouldn’t be a spring break without a Teen Titans beach trip! All these and more in DC’s Spring Breakout! — eight breakout stories to put a spring in your step!

[servingrobin]

If you're still doing requests, could we get some Sanji love? Maybe something like his flirty nature constantly flustering a new crewmate and falling for them over time?

I adore this man heart and soul, even if he is an absolute rogue. This did become smutty but I’ve started it if that’s not your thing!

Warnings: fluff, small angst if you squint? (Y/N is a lil insecure), NSFW at the end but I’ve marked it - oral (f receiving), Sanji being a little bit of a pervert

Your little island home had been infested with some terrible loan sharks. You’d been fighting bravely for years to end their reign of terror and set your family and village free.

When Luffy had seen your dedication and perseverance he knew you had to join the Straw Hats. It helped that you were also from a family of seamstresses and could mend clothes like nobodies business - he never needed his crew to have jobs but anything to help was always appreciated.

So when your village had been freed and your family were secure, you’d jumped at the chance to join the Sunny and explore the world you’d never even dared think about before. The crew became your family in a matter of weeks - all except one.

Sanji the chef was an unstoppable flirt. He complimented you every time he saw you - how beautiful you looked, how stunning you were, how the glittering ocean paled in comparison to you.

The problem was he said the same things to Nami and Robin as well.

You were impressed at first, harbouring a small crush on the handsome blonde from first meet, but as you heard the same compliments fall from his lips for the other women, you realised perhaps you were a little blind to real attraction. Sanji was just naturally flirtatious.

You couldn’t help your responses to his flirting though, red blooming across your cheeks and nose at every comment, bashful giggles that had Zoro rolling his eyes.

“The moon and stars dream of your beauty Y/N”

“A lady must not carry a thing, here let me take these for you.”

“A sweet treat for my fair lady.”

Sanji saw it and liked the effect he had on you, locking in on the thought of you reciprocating his interest, determined to fluster you even more.

As time went on Sanji focused on you even more, growing to genuinely adore your kindness and humour, the way you were so gentle with others. It was when he saw you helping Chopper pick flowers for Robin that he decided he must really truly have you.

So Sanji upped his game - every cool summer drink he made the girls, yours were extra lavish. Every compliment he gave a woman, you would recieve ten. Yours was the hand he held to help off the ship, yours was the name he called when grouping off to explore. Every lingering touch was to your body, every rose given to you.

But unfortunately all you heard was the odd compliment he still threw at Nami or Robin, the general flirting in every direction, blinded by your own self-doubt.

You wandered the ship one evening, ruminating on the whole ordeal. Your little crush had grown into a soft and purring love in the pit of your stomach, but you truly didn’t know if you’d ever have it reciprocated. It was unfortunate for you that it was Sanji that found you, leaning over the rails of the Sunny, tears pooling softly in the creases of your eyes.

“My darling what is wrong?” Sanji was immediately concerned.

He placed a gentle arm around your middle to catch your attention, other hand rising to collect your tears on his fingertip. You sniffled and shook your head.

“Nothing Sanji, don’t worry about it.” You attempted a watery grin and started to pull away.

“Nonsense! My beautiful woman cannot be upset - tell me what has caused this and I will fix it for you mon amour.”

You laughed bitterly, “yours? I don’t think you can use that word for so many women.”

Sanji blinked before the slightest understanding dawned on his face.

“I am a lover of women you understand Y/N - I enjoy making people feel desired….. but you are on a whole other level to me now. I had planned to make a big declaration for you but I will say it now.” He paused to take a breath and fell to his knees before you, eyes wide.

“You are a goddess among women, where most are beautiful you are exquisite. To set my eyes upon you is like waking up to the sunrise. You inspire in me feelings I have never felt before….. I do believe I am in love with you, even more so than I ever thought I would love someone. “

He was breathing hard by the end of his confession, staring at you with endearing puppy eyes. You were in awe, brain short-circuiting at the idea of Sanji returning your feelings.

You placed a hand to his soft face and grinned at him, tears forgotten.

“…. I feel the same.”

Sanji let out an exaggerated gasp and jumped up from his knees holding your hand to his face as he swooped down to brush against your nose with his.

“May I kiss you mon coeur?”

Instead of answering you simply closed the last few millimetres to press your lips to his. Sanji let out a throaty groan and gripped you by the hips, kiss deepening as his tongue brushed against your mouth.

You were both a panting mess when you finally broke apart. Sanji fell once more to his knees and placed a kiss to your clothed hip.

“Please my darling, let me show you how much I worship you.” His face was earnest whilst his tone was both begging and sinful.

*******NSFW********

You nodded, completely flustered. Sanji gave a small smirk before focusing in front of him. He dropped his hands to your ankles and worked his way back up in fluttering touches, raising your long skirts as he did.

Soon they were bunched around your hips and he crept a hand up to push you down against the steps behind you, leading up to the helm. You sat at an angle as he pulled you forward by the waist, until the edge of your ass was against the step.

Sanji made quick work of removing your underwear and you were too entranced to see them slipped into his trouser pocket.

There was very little movement for a few minutes and you finally cracked an eye open to look down - to see Sanji staring at your pussy in what could only be considered euphoria.

He caught your eye after a moment and grinned lustfully, leaning forward to lick a grand stripe across your slit. You threw your head back at the sensation and preemptively placed a hand over your mouth, very aware of the crew asleep beneath you.

“No mon Cherie, let them hear how good I make you feel.” Sanji whispered against you with a gentle slap to your thigh.

He began licking in earnest, long exposing swipes that sent shocks through your body. He alternated between kitten licks and sinful suckles on your clit, pausing when you let out a keen.

“I’m so close Sanji please.” You almost sobbed.

“That’s it my darling, beg for me. Tell me how good I make you feel.” He purred, fingers coming up to circle your tight hole.

He sank his index finger knuckle deep and started to move it in a gentle come hither motion. You were starry-eyed, babbling as you breathed like you’d tan a marathon.

“Please Sanji please you make me feel so good, make me want to cum so bad, yes just there….” You suddenly gasped as the knot in your stomach came loose with spectacular fireworks, Sanji coaxing your through your climax with continuous stripes of his tongue.

When you finally came down from your high you rocked forward to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. You groaned and licked at his mouth, drunk on your own taste on the blonde.

The sensation was too much for Sanji and with a broken cry into your mouth he shuddered, moaning out your name in a broken whisper.

You looked down at his deflating trousers and smirked whilst Sanji looked away, cheeks burning red

[totheblood]

jealous!ellie headcanons

a/n: these are modern headcanons sooooo... and this isn't jealous gf ellie, this is pining loser lesbian ellie... lol also super inspired by the talented @rxllingstones and @whore-era after reading their amazing fics tonight... pls go read them.. and for u fiends... there is ai audios at the bottom... more uploaded on sc bc tumblr hates me

ellie is incredibly hard to read

or at least that's what she tells herself

it's almost written all over her face how much she hates the people you date when she's in a five-foot radius of them

she tells herself she doesn't care (she's lying) but she can't ignore how her grip tightens when she sees you lip-locking some loser you met at a party

but she always finds herself at your side, pulling you away from them and back into the corner with her

"hey there, pretty girl. having fun?"

"i was until you cock-blocked me."

"there wasn't much to block... i heard his dick's small."

but the curse of having feelings for you was that you were always dating someone

it always comes up when the group goes out to dinner and the topic of who you're dating comes up

like it does every week...

"i actually really like him for you" dina shares, a genuine smile on her face

"yeah, dude's cool" jesse agrees, slinging his arm around dina in the booth

and then all the attention is on ellie as you stare at her with your wide eyes waiting for her approval

"what? you know you're not going to like what i have to say." she says taking a sip of her dr. pepper

yes ellie drinks dr. pepper

"cause you hate everyone i date!" you reply, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout

it was clear you were slightly tipsy but your face still made ellie smile

"yeah, cause you only date fucking losers." she would say smile on her face but anger blooming inside

ellie tries to be mature but she can't help herself

what makes it worse is that you really do date literally everyone except for her

so she doesn't really make an effort to be nice to the people you introduce her to

one time the same guy came around twice and all ellie could say was "oh it's this fucking guy again! hey man, glad to see you made it to a second date."

you scolded her after

but in her defense, you really are with someone new each week

until it's been three weeks and you're still dating the same girl

and ellie is a fucking mess

you started inviting her out to group hang outs and smoke sessions so ellie just stops showing up

she doesn't like the way it feels when her stomach flips upside down at the sight of you sitting on her lap, a beer in your hands

so she decides to opt-out, get high alone and avoid seeing you as much as possible

but it's short lived because your drunk ass is banging on her door

"ellie, let me in!" you yell over the tv playing from inside her dorm room. "i hear you watching shark tank!"

reluctantly, she gets up and opens the door for you

"can i help you?"

"yeah you can fucking help me. you can help me by telling me why you've been MIA for the last few parties. i miss you." you don't miss a beat and are already storming past her and sitting on her unmade bed

"you miss me? does arcadia know about that? you missing me?"

"is this seriously about you not liking another partner of mine? seriously ellie? grow up. you're supposed to be my friend and support me but you have done any of that?" it was obvious you had been hanging onto that for a while

she'd laugh but upon seeing your stone cold face her anger would rise

"oh, you're fucking serious. are you really that blind? you really think i want to be your fucking friend? i mean, my god i couldn't have made it clearer for you. i like you! like actually like you, like i want it to be my lap that you sit in. not hers. every person you have ever dated i have wished was me! but nooo, you just don't seem to notice."

she doesn't even realize it but she's shaking

she's actually just confessed her three year crush on you without even thinking about it

"ellie..." you begin, a worried look all over your face

"no, i don't really have it in me to get rejected by you tonight so please just go." she cuts you off, unable to meet your eyes

but then you're there next to her holding her shaking hand

"i'm not rejecting you, ellie." you whisper

"you're not? what about your little girlfriend."

"this might be absolutely toxic of me to say but... she's not you." you giggle

"you're absolutely right it's fucking toxic to say that…. but it's also EXTREMELY fucking hot."

ai audios:

extra ai audios:

there wasn't much to block..

oh, it's this fucking guy again!

oh you miss me?

you're not? what about your little girlfriend

you're right it's toxic to say that...

[missmentalghoulish]

MDNI, NSFW 18+

[pure smut, rough sex]

Konig🖤🖤🖤

Part 2

Konig removes his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. He pulls his pants down and kicks them off the bed. His pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. He snakes his hands under you and unhooks your bra rips it off you.

Your breasts now exposed to him. His rough palms grip them, squeezing tight. Your whimpers like music to his ears. He runs his thumbs back and forth over each nipple, you squirming beneath him. He twists your nipples roughly. You feel his cock against your leg and you instinctively grind your hips towards him.

Konig notices letting out a chuckle.

"Awwww, do you want to get fucked, my little maus?"

You answer with a whine, making him laugh a little louder.

" You can do better than that. Tell me what you want."

Konig continued to twist your nipples waiting for you to tell him what you really want.

"Come on, tell me. Tell me Konig, I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk tomorrow."

He twists your nipples tighter.

"Ahh..Konig..." You stutter.

"Yes?" He grins down at you.

"I...I want you to fuck me."

He leans down and kisses you hard, his tongue tangled with yours. He releases your nipples, his hands slide down to your legs and behind your knees.

"What else?"

"What?"

"What else were you suppose to tell me?"

"I..."

Konig pushes your legs up towards your chest, exposing your pussy. He groans and scoots closer to you. His cock brushes your pussy and your hips grind toward him again. He reaches down and lines himself up with your entrance but doesn't push in.

You whimper.

"Tell me." He says more firmly.

"I'm not giving you want you want until I hear it all."

His eyes bore into yours.

"I want you to fuck me Konig. Fuck me until I can't walk tomorrow." You whine.

He grins like a shark again and places a gentle kiss your lips.

"That's it. You just want to be fucked by me don't you? I'm the only who can make you cum isn't that right?"

"Yesss..."

You feel him push into you achingly slow. His tip lodged inside you now, but he doesn't move any further than that.

You grip his shoulders and rock your hips.

"Don't you dare move." He growls in your ear.

"Tell me that this pussy is mine and that I'm the only one that gets to fill it up with cum."

His hand snakes up into your hair and he pulls gently making you look him in the eyes.

"You're the only one that gets to fill me up."

"And?" He growls again.

" It's yours!" You cry.

Konig groans and slams into you. You almost scream, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Konig!" You whine.

He's so deep inside you, you can't form a coherent thought.

"Yessss, this is pussy is mine." He moans.

"It's mine to fuck. Mine to fill up and breed whenever I want."

He thrust roughly into you, slamming into you repeatedly as you squirm beneath him. Your knees almost pressed to your chest, you can do nothing but lay there and take it. He hits your sweet spot deep inside you over and over again until your legs start to quiver.

Konig notices and he smirks down at you, his nails grazing down the backs of your legs.

"Does that feel good, maus?"

You nods, tears in your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Yesss, that's it. Take it like the good girl you are. You love me holding you down and fucking you stupid don't you?"

Konig's thrusts become faster, hsi breathing becoming labored. I look up at him.

The sight almost makes you cum apart. Konig's hooded eyes watch you, his breathing labored. His eyes bore into your and he leans down to kiss you once more.

"Fuckk.." he moans. Your face to face now, almost nose to nose. Konig never takes his eyes off of yours. Something warm blooms inside you. You lay spread out beneath him as he pounds into you. This giant of a man above you looks at you like you're the only thing in the world.

Konig watches you as he pumps into you. Your face is beautiful to watch. The way those beautiful eyes go wide when he hits that spot deep inside you. Your lips part, a moan escaping them. Those beautiful lips he never gets tired of kissing. You throw your head back and he watches your neck. He loves biting into it. So he does. He bites into the side of your neck and he feels you clench around him.

He lets go off your neck and places and soothing kiss over the mark he left. That will definitely be purple by the morning.

Konig feels your pussy flutter again around him.

"You gonna cum?"

You nod and grip his shoulders tighter until your fingertips.

Konig reaches down and plays with your clit as he picks up his pace and rams into you hard and fast.

He pulls you close and you scream into his neck as you cum hard around his cock, squeezing like a death grip.

"Ahhh fuckkk.." konig whimpers.

"Yes, mein liebling. Cum on my cock."

He doesn't stop rubbing your clit. He fucks your through your orgasm as you cry and try to push him away.

" No, no you keep fucking cumming on my cock...yo...ahhh..." His blue eyes roll back.

" You're gonna fucking squirt on my cock."

You cry and shake your head.

" Noo! I can't konig..I...ahhhhhh" you scream as you feel yourself let against him. You drench his cock, the squelching sounds full the room as he fucks you into the mattress.

"Fuck yess, look at that."

You look down and see that you have covered his abs in your juices.

He laughs darkly and leans down to give you a harsh kiss on the lips.

"I'm the only one who fucks this pussy until it squirts aren't it?"

You nod cupping his face.

" You want me to cum in the pussy?"

"Y..yes please, cum in my pussy." You cry.

Konig pounds into you, your overstimulated pussy squeezing and quivering around him. He rests his forehead against yours and he shutters above you.

Still cupping his face you kiss his lips gently.

"Please cum in me. Please cum in my pussy..." He whine against his lips.

"You want it? Hmmm?" He groans.

"Yesss, please cum in my pussy."

"Oh fuck I'm gonna cum"

His thrusts become sloppy and he slams into you once more time before you fill his thick cock pulse inside you and he cums deep inside you with a growl. His warmth spreads through you and your legs shake slightly at the feeling.

His breathing slows slightly and he leans back to look down at you.

You stare up at him through hooded eyes, wet with tears. Your legs quiver slightly around him, your pussy still trying to kill his cock.

He cups your cheek gently and you focus your eyes on him.

"Are you ok?" He whispers.

You smile up at him, a few years falling down your cheeks.

"Shhhh, my little maus. I've got you."

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to him. He strokes your hair while you bury your face in his neck and breathe him in.

"I love you." He whispers again your ear.

Your heart swells and feels like it will burst at any second.

He pulls back to look at you.

"You do?" You sniff.

"Yes, maus. I love you. I'm sorry it's taken this long for me to say it." He gently brushes the hair away fromy our forehead.

" I love you, too." You whisper back.

"Ja?" Konig grins.

You grin back at him and nod.

" Yes, I love you."

He cups your cheek as he kisses you.

Konig slowly pulls out of you and lays beside you facing you. You lay on your back, unable to move yet. His hand touches your stomach and traces up your ribs between your breasts.

You turn you head to look at him and he smiles gently at you.

He grabs the blanket from the end of the bed and pulls it over you and scoots closer you.

"Sleep now, maus." He whispers against your head.

You snuggle closer to him and he wraps an arm around you, the sound of his heart next to your ear lulling you to sleep.