#but kinda sucky

[awearywritersworld]

when you knock on gojo's apartment door with a tear stained face and wobbly lips, he doesn't waste time.

and by that i mean he doesn't ask questions. he doesn't check the hall to see if anyone's around. he doesn't acknowledge the lateness of the hour.

no, he barely even processes the state you're in before he's pulling you against his chest.

and he holds onto your frame so tightly, as if you're his lifeline. though in this particular moment, it's undoubtedly the other way around.

the air surrounding the two of you remains quiet until he hears you stutter out his name.

"what happened?" he asks gently.

"i-i'm just overwhelmed," you mumble against the fabric of his shirt. "i don't understand why things always have to be so difficult."

even though you aren't entirely positive you're making sense, he hums in way that makes you feel understood.

"do you wanna talk about it?"

you shake your head no. the thought of having to discuss your problems evokes an uncomfortable feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach.

you just want to be held, and gojo is happy to oblige. "alright."

he doesn't say anymore, nor he does he move an inch, save for the small circles his thumb is drawing against your shoulder blade.

he stands there with you until you decide to pull away from him and really, he doesn't mind one bit. he's positive that there isn't a single thing in the world more deserving of his time.

[m3vl0vesu]

ᑎOT ᗩᑎOTᕼEᖇ ᖴIGᕼT.

TW: implied suicidal thoughts.

Your thoughts

"Not even the devil can reach you when you've got my last name."

He spat at you, venom in his slurred words. It's the first time you've seen Bruce properly drunk, not a silly fun drunk like the media portrayed. "Maybe" you shrugged, "instead he gave me your blood, he made me your daughter." The words were cold, it didn't even sound like you. The way his glare softened at your words, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make sense of them-god did it make you nauseous. But you had to get your words out, he probably wasn't even going to remember this shit anyways. "And then you made me into your soldier." You shook your head and let out a small breath. "I'm not staying here Bruce." "No. You do as I say-"

"Do you want me to live?"

It probably was dangerous to cut him off right now, but it didn't matter. The question certainly caught him off guard.

"W...What?" "Do you want me to live?" .

Don't fucking hesitate

. "Yes! You're my daughter why-" "Then let me leave." your voice was shaky, the silence didn't help you at all. His face became unreadable once again. "If...if you want me to live, then let me leave."

A/N: Planning on writing more bat!reader, watch out for it you guys

[conceptofjoy]

[nana2009]

karkat in the brazilian miku fit, made for yesterday's independence day :D

[httpiastri]

AAAAAAAA

AAAAA DIDNT I TELL YOU ????? I SO SAID THIS WHEN PIETRO WAS ANNOUNCED FOR INDY AAAAAAAAA

im dying

[rouecentric]

Hello! Are requests open? Can you do more lant agriche x reader pls 😭😭😭

COLD HANDS AND A HARDENED GLARE.

synopsis ; the cruel head of the black agrece, a menacing man, truly, but he was nothing more than a loving grandfather to his grandchild.

tw/cw ; lant agrece in general, childbirth, death.

letter from the stars ; i made these into a half headcannons- half oneshot and made it platonic since you didn't specify what kind of relationship you wanted lant to have with reader, so i hope you don't mind it!!

LANT AGRECE, a man who's said to not care about anything but himself, a man who's the head of the black agrece, a monster in many people's eyes, but to you? he was just a peculiar and strange grandfather.

the duke thought he wouldn't care about his family, simply using them to his benefits and wants, until his eldest son, dion, had a child with his now-dead wife, with the child thankfully ending up healthy.

but, just for the sake of it and to keep his son in check, he had come unannounced to his grandchild's nursery to see what all the fuss is about when it came to the newborn, as he heard that the newborn was oddly calm, rarely crying or making noise, instead just either staying quiet or sleeping. once he had arrived at the nursery, he ushered the maids and nanny out, wanting to be alone with the child for until he left.

after his meeting with the newborn, it's been said and known that the head of the black agrece would then on often visit his grandchild, usually having a gift for them.

that revelation somewhat shook the other agrece members, but mostly dion, jeremy, and roxana. what did the newborn do to make the head like them so much? they'll unfortunately never get to find out, though.

once the new addition of the family turned old enough, they'd soon enough constantly find themselves stay beside their grandfather's side during meetings, going as far as to join the banquets he went to with their father, aunt, and uncle.

everywhere the head of the black agrece went you would too, it was almost if he gained a shadow that mimicked everything he did. it was almost terrifying to think that the young child could resemble the head that much, even though only in behavior.

it's not unknown that he favored you more than his children, teaching you everything he knew from a young age, as a way for you to both bond and to raise you as a possibly fitting future head if dion ever dies prematurely.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

bartender!Kyle x gn!reader Part 1 Set in the butcher!simon universe... maybe I should give it a name. Guys, I don't have any explanation for this except that the retirement au has take ahold of my brain and now Kyle needed a few words too. COD Masterlist | Part 2

Kyle enjoys being a bartender more than he expected. Especially when he realized he could still help people while at it.

The first time he gave the police an anonymous tip they were rightfully suspicious. He had to be careful not to give himself away. He’s not sure what kind of person it makes him, but he enjoyed that type of cat and mouse game with the police quite a bit. Still, good that it’s not something he has to be overly conscious about anymore.

Since then he’s found a signature with which his anonymous tips are signed. The police in town knows to trust his findings by now. But he prefers doing it from the shadows or rather from behind his bar. Price always shakes his head when he comes in for a glass of his favorite drink and slaps down the newspaper on the bar. Somehow the old man can always tell when Gaz has had his fingers in a case.

Life is different now, after that mission. They all settled into new or old lives. But it’s not bad, just… different.

Gaz can’t help but smirk, thinking about Ghost. That fucker had gone ahead and found himself a little crush. It’s almost comical to watch that guy stumble through having feelings for someone and being alive. But the precious little thing does fit Ghost… in an odd way.

His mind wanders, listening to chatter with half an ear to make sure he catches any interesting gossip, when a new customer comes up to the bar and takes a seat. When he goes to take your order he has to smile a bit.

You look out of place. You’re wrapped up in a thick sweater and it makes you look pretty adorable. You don’t look like you belong into a stool at his bar. You look like you belong into a cozy corner at home with a hot chocolate and a good book.

“Fuck me sideways this stuff is good.”, you groan when you down your drink in one go and Kyle nearly gapes at your language. He looks at you, your adorable face, the thick sweater that hides your body shape from view and then he replays what you just said in his mind.

Who were you? He’s never seen you before. He studies your features from the corner of his eyes as he wipes down the counter. When you gesture for a refill and immediately down it again Kyle bites his lip.

You smile at him brightly (did his heart just skip a beat?!), groaning again. “Needed that. Thanks man.”

Face like an angel, potty mouth and a smile that made his heart stutter. Shit, the guys were going to have a field day with this.

Stunned he watches you slam down some bills on the counter and taking your leave. When he collects the money he notices that you left quite the tip. His eyes follow your figure to the door. Some big burly dude stumbles into you on his way in and you level him with a cold stare.

“Watch it, dude.”, you say. Your voice isn't even mean but your tone commands respect. It makes the guy cower and apologize and a shiver runs down Kyle’s back.

He only grows aware of the chatter in the bar again, when the door closes behind you.

[nekojaf]

Life through a box of shoes at me. Here's an art dump. Featuring mostly Partial, @galaxysugarr Cupid, and @zarigi little doodle on the bottom left of her baby.

[mspaint-instars-andtime]

what if........ beafts........ [fursona hcs (sorry theres no isa..... ill do him soon....)]

[strawberri-draws]

loved her vmas look

[jjoneechan]

*taps sign*

[sneeb-canons]

Headcanon #400: Heart & Mind are usually never a neutral temperature. The area around them is like the sun & moon. Mind's being hot and Hearts being cold. They're body temperatures however contrast that with Mind always feeling cold like metal/machinery and Heart feeling warm like a literal heart.

[more in tags :}]

[yardikins]

Major shoutout to queer teenagers in media with neon green lipstick

[therimmerexperience]

Smegtober- Day 8 (Diary)

TW: Arnold Rimmer's Terrible Childhood

"What are you?” John taunted, spitting each word from a tongue laced with venom,”Some kind of nancy?”

“What?” a young Arnold Rimmer stood, tears pricking in his eyes, his three older brothers towering over him as he struggled to comprehend what he was being accused of. He clutched his left arm tightly to his chest, trying to ignore the persistent, buzzing pain that travelled between his shoulder and elbow. The three boys each wore a smirk of arrogance, maybe even pride; to Arnold, in that moment their teeth looked sharp enough to tear him apart, each set of fangs and tusks bigger than the last, and they were certainly sharper than his.

Frank's smug grin twisted into a grimace,” You won’t go crying to mummy this time, will you?” He sounded less concerned than annoyed to Arnold; They weren't afraid of being in trouble or punishment, not really, because ‘that's how boys are’ and Frank, Howard and John all knew their mother and father were too busy to care about their youngest child's sensitivities. ‘Boys played rough’ and if he couldn't handle it, he would be forced to spend more time alone, in his room: just him, his textbooks, and an army of tiny painted figurines watching him from his shelf. 

Arnold’s gaze fell to the floor as he shook his head. This was nothing compared to some of their more daring attempts at malice and if he hadn't seen Howard whisper to John before he kicked the ball full pelt in his direction with a snigger, he could have innocently assumed it was all an accident, even if he knew differently. He decided to keep quiet. It was for his own good. 

Shuffling back to the house, he lagged ever so slightly behind his brothers, giving himself a chance to shake it off, both physically and emotionally however all he could ponder was a question that nagged at him. ‘What's a nancy?’ It bugged him. The question rested in his head until dinner. 

His father, as usual, sat at the head of the table, his mother to the left of him, John to his right, Frank and Howard both next to him . Arnold stayed next to his mother. He felt safer that way. As if like clockwork, Mr Rimmer asked astro navigation questions; first John, then Howard and then Frank, each one of their right answers were rewarded with the right to eat. He had finally got to Arnold, the runt of the litter. He sighed, asking a question he was surprised Arnold guessed correctly. A wave of relief washed over him as his mother slid over his plate.

Idly picking at his food while his father spoke, the question still jabbed and prodded at his mind; his curiosity had gotten him in trouble before. He weighed up his options and decided he wouldn't ask what was burning into the back of his skull. 

Crawling under the covers of his bed, he dug his diary out from under his pillow, clutching his teddy bear in his arms. He rested his bear between his arms as he wrote on the pages, words flowing through him as ink did to the page;

Dear Diary…

[autism-criminal]

hi I have this really good play idea that I will never execute and has probably already been done :

the narrator has absolute control . Like within the first few minutes, everyone is going about their day and the narrator says ‘ and then they all died ‘ and the lights go down and the actors fall to the floor etc , but the narrator smiles and goes ‘ just kidding ! ‘ and the music starts again and the actors get up etc . And it gets worse as the play goes on if that makes sense

The narrator will grow to dislike the main character and either force them to do something against their own will ( to which the character will look surprised but will , of course , have no choice but to play along ) or get killed

the narrator will keep making those horrific jokes until they get fed up with the plot , say ‘ and then they all died ‘ and walk off the stage without giving us a good ending

also I don’t have a plot

[wraithdolll]

buncha blondes i did for new years + for practice/icebreakers