#can you tell I’m having fun :)

[alddente]

If you told Laios you were trans, I think he wouldn’t get it at first but once you explained it to him he’d perk up and go like “Oh! Kind of like how Sea Bass mermaids will change their sex if there’s not enough of the opposite sex around… apparently the flesh of the males is less tough them their female counterpart, do you think it would taste any different if they started at one end and then went to the other?” And then he’d walk away to go think about it some more

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

As per usual, it’s DP crossover with (probably) DC, although you could probably adjust it for other fandoms

ANYWAYS

A little kid and his mother are trick or treating in another city, perhaps at some kind of event rather than knocking on doors, and the kid is dressed as Phantom. It’s very adorable, with his little ghost-shaped bucket and clearly homemade and already stained costume—listen, white only works if you can just fly over street grime or phase it out of your clothes—and his slightly I’ll fitting wig. The kid is SO happy to be out and about dressed as his favorite, and maybe even showed it off to Phantom back in Amity Park before his family left.

The hero, insert whoever you wish here, is probably in civvies and just enjoying the event. The kid, meanwhile, is so glad when people ask who he is so he can explain, and so- the hero gets to hear ALL ABOUT the local town hero who is probably pretty small time despite the kid’s clearly exaggerated stories. The hero certainly never heard of him, but the kid’s mom confirms that Phantom really was the town hero, despite some mixed reviews of the poor guy.

“Did you manage to show him your costume?” the hero asks.

“Yeah! We went down to the cemetery to leave flowers and I got to show him my costume.”

Wait. Cemetery? Maybe it was part of theme, because Phantom had to be named that for a reason, but… it sounded like…

The kid ignores the suddenly VERY still hero and instead turns to his mom. “Momma, do you think we should bring him candy? He doesn’t get to trick or treat like we do, and I can work super hard to get him a bunch!”

The kid’s mom just smiles. “We could, but maybe we should bring him something homemade. I bet he’d like something more filling, teen boys like him have a hollow leg.”

The kid wrinkles his nose. “Like Vernie with the pizza bagels?”

“Like your cousin, yes. We can make some cinnamon rolls and take them to his memorial, maybe bring some of the apples from your grandpa’s garden…”

The hero is pretty much forgotten as the two-part family wanders off, not quite intentionally forgetting the hero is there so much as the hero somewhat accidentally ended the conversation when they just froze and didn’t ask anything further.

Not that the hero didn’t want to. But they’d learn something very serious.

One—there was a small town hero they’d never heard of. Two—that hero was apparently a teen. Third—most pressingly, the teen hero was both beloved enough to have kids dressing up as him and dead enough to have a grave.

This… might require some phone calls.

[dustbunsinspace]

Part of 🟢 Leo gets Overwhelmed au🟢

Aah, I’m so happy I made it in in time! 💙✨ Merry Christmas, tumblr nation! Here’s a little comic about 03 Usagi and Leo going so see the Rockefeller tree after the events of the Christmas Aliens episode.

Little post about events earlier that night

Also this is literally how maskless Leo looks to me, he’s so moomincore ;

[milolovesbmc]

It’s Marvin’s Bar Mitzvah!

Little extra Marvin In Trousers :)

[labannori]

jrwi women 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[remotewatch]

for this simp I have no sympathy 💳🏃‍♀️

Jack Schlossberg x reader | 3.5k wc

summary: Jack’s a great boss. He doesn’t care how often you work remote, the benefits are actually competitive, and he lets you run up his Amex as long as you’ll spit in his coffee. Wait, what?

cw: shameless smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), sugaring, inappropriate workplace dynamics, findom, submissive loser jack, ooc (he’s at the office), spit kink, semi public sex?, he calls the reader a bitch but doesn’t mean it, somehow a plot snuck in here, def needs a part 2 eventually

AN: this one goes out to @augustghosts !!! Happy happy birthday and thank you for matching my freak mwah

minors dni pls I don’t want y’all thinking this is realistic or healthy

It’s a technically perfect relationship, as much as you’re aware of the risk of it all going to shit at any moment. Somehow that thought always pops back up at the jewelry counter. Your eyes trace aloofly over the puddles of diamonds littering the cobalt velvet tray before you and finally land on a comparatively understated anklet.

“I’ll take this one, please.”

“Excellent choice, madam.”

You waste no time shoving the evidence of your purchases into an overstuffed trash can prior to slipping the anklet on and dashing to the coffee shop closest to your building. As you wait outside, you can’t help but wonder if you’re visible from Jack’s office. You absolutely are, and he’s been glued to his window like a creep trying to pick your hair out of the crowd since the moment you left, but there’s no way for you to know that.

The line moves faster than usual, and, soon enough, you’re balancing 4 orders of varying sizes with your work tote in one hand and carefully removing the lid of Jack’s cup with the other. Black with half a pump of sugar free vanilla and the massive glob of spit you deposit in there as you traverse the crosswalk.

It had started rather innocuously, and you probably wouldn’t have ever picked up on anything if he didn’t have such an awful poker face. There was a work dinner, some dick of an exec retiring, and out of the corner of your eye you’d spotted Jack placing his personal card in with his company one when the bill came around. That was a little weird. It was much weirder that he looked like you’d caught him pissing in the break room sink when he realized you’d noticed.

Once you had, it was hard not to spot the gunmetal edge of his black card peeking out from under the company one at every single outing, though you made a point to feign ignorance. You’d asked one of your coworkers about it after you had to skip one night to visit family, but she was just as clueless as you felt.

“I was sitting next to him the whole night. He only used one card,” That forced you to backpedal and pretend you must have been mistaken; no sense in drumming up gossip before getting to the bottom of whatever it was.

Still, work was work, and things had been so hectic that the guilty look on Jack’s face had nearly faded from your memory by the time you came storming off the elevator two weeks later, drenched from forgetting your umbrella, one heel broken, and late for the first time since you’d been hired. You’d been so focused on wringing out your sweater that you had no chance of hearing or seeing him round the corner until he was already crashing into you and spilling (thankfully) lukewarm coffee down the both of you. If that didn’t push you over the edge, his attempt at a joke to lighten the situation certainly did.

“God, Jack, is everything a fucking game to you?! Fuck off!!” came flying out before you could stop it. Your only saving grace was that your entire team was already in a meeting across the floor, but that didn’t stop you from retreating to the bathroom and leaving him no time to say anything.

You were so beyond screwed. You’d busted your ass to get this job and had completely blown it over spilled coffee of all things. By the time you’d dried yourself to a somewhat acceptable level and crept over to the closed door of his corner office, the stomach-dropping dread of plunging back into the job market was already settling in.

There’s a weird clatter when you knock, and Jack looks the slightest bit frazzled when he opens the door, a few curls of his usually annoyingly perfect hair sticking up on one side.

“Can I apologize?” He stifles the smirk that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth like he’s afraid you’ll scream at him again.

“You don’t need to apologize, but sure. Come in.” At any other time, you’d feel dangerously comfortable in his office. It’s not corporate at all: so packed with weathered sunshine-smelling afghans and little wooden beach trinkets that seem to multiply every time you leave that it feels more like an antique store than a place of business. Today, the sight of it all makes you nauseous as you try to do damage control.

Thankfully, he cuts you off before the stammering mess of a groveling attempt unravels completely.

“Really, it’s fine. Do you think I can afford to fire anyone right now?”

“I guess not?”

He can’t quite conceal a wince when he sees the puddle you’re leaving on the carpet despite your best efforts.

“Well, you can’t work all day dressed like that. Would you go across the street and let me get you something new? I’ll call and tell them you’re coming.”

“Jack, I’m not going to Loro Piana for a change of clothes. It’s one day, it’ll be fine-“

“Please? And then we can forget all about this and just focus.” Fuck. His mouth looks so good asking nicely. The implications are not lost on you, that you’re crossing a VERY stark line here, but the way he’s looking at you with those perfect fucking doe eyes has your brain buzzing too loudly to care as much as you probably should.

The staff are even more attentive than you’d expect, to an almost unnerving degree. You’ve barely set one foot in the door before your coat and bag are lifted off you and you’re whisked up to one of their VIC suites. There’s already a rack waiting for you, but the sales associate’s not so subtle mention of a shower in the suite seizes your attention. Even though it’s only ten minutes, the water pressure and whatever is in that body wash make you feel like you’ve fast forwarded through a week at the spa. When you step out and look around for your old outfit, you’re timidly informed that they’ve been taken to the dry cleaner as per the cardholder’s request.

“Oh, yes. Thank you, I must have forgotten,” you mutter in a deeply unconvincing attempt to give the impression you’ve been in a dressing room this nice before. As tempting as it is to thumb through all of your options, you can’t afford to waste any more time and throw on the first two pieces on the rack: an ecru knit trouser and short sleeved sweater set. One of the price tags flips over as you tug them from their hangers, and you have to take a deep breath to stave off the tunnel vision the number on it inspires.

Of course, they both fit perfectly and feel like an absolute dream. As soon as you begin to move towards the door, the same sales associate pipes up again.

“Mr. Schlossberg mentioned that you were also interested in some leather goods. Is that still the case?” You turn to see a massive array of belts atop a disgustingly ornate glass (or is that crystal?) table along the back wall with a dozen pairs each of coordinating loafers, oxfords, and pumps underneath. A small sliver of guilt turns over in your gut; you really shouldn’t, but fuck it, that line has already been crossed, and you can’t even pretend it’s a difficult decision.

“Yes, I was! Thank you so much for reminding me!”

She helps you settle on a pair of gleaming chestnut loafers with a narrow matching belt, and you choose not to dwell on how Jack knows your exact clothing and shoe size.

You hate how much of a spring it puts in your step as you hurry back across the street. The meeting is somehow still going on, so you quickly pop over to Jack’s office to thank him again and definitely not to show off how sweet your ass looks in these pants.

You’re so ecstatic from the whiplash of remaining employed after telling your boss to fuck off right to his face that you stupidly swing his door open without knocking first.

Jack slams his laptop shut, but the audio pause is delayed, and the there’s nowhere for him to hide as its speakers blare out clear as day:

“-my perfect good boy. Give me all your cum. Yeah, you’re my favorite ATM.”

The secondhand embarrassment is absolutely brutal, so you imagine his stomach is falling out of his ass right about now. He purses his lips together as he stands up painfully slow, fingertips pressed to the desk so hard they’ve lost color. God, he’s never this quiet. By the time he stalks over to your side of the desk and leans back against it, your heart is pounding so erratically you think you might drop dead right there on his pashmina rug. The new outfit suddenly feels heavier, like every wordless second he spends squinting at you adds a few ounces to the knit. Your suppressed sigh of relief forces its way out of your nose when the next words out of Jack’s mouth aren’t “go pack your desk”.

“Do you plan on telling anyone about that?” His expression is totally unreadable and it’s freaking you out; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him completely serious, even in the most dire of time crunches.

“No. Am I still getting fired?” This time, Jack lets a smile bloom across his face like he couldn’t stamp it down if he tried.

“I don’t think I could ever bring myself to do that.”

Once again, some would say stupidly, your relief emboldens you.

“Why do you use two cards when we all go out?”

He gives your outfit a slow once over that would be repulsive coming from anyone else before glancing at the idle laptop, then back at you with a sprinkle of condescension mixed with his normal charisma.

“I like buying you shit.”

The frankness of it all is embarrassingly hot.

“And it doesn’t feel the same using the company card?”

“Not at all.”

That sliver of guilt is back, but it feels more obligatory than genuine. It’s currently being steamrolled by carnal curiosity.

“Why do you like it?” Jack’s eyes are practically sparkling with anticipation as he glances down.

“Why didn’t you turn down the belt?”

He presses his luck when you hesitate to respond. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying nice things, you know.” Still, nothing, so he strolls over to the floor safe and hands you a bulging cash envelope from its contents.

“For your rent, or whatever. So you know I’m serious. You don’t have to do anything else, but I want to ask for one favor before you get back to work.”

Your throat dries up, and your expression must betray your assumption and feelings because he’s quickly correcting you with a small chuckle:

“No, not that,” as he’s twisting the lid off his thermos and handing it to you. That’s weird, but whatever. You’ll happily take drinking out of his mug over bruising your throat if it comes down to it. Jack gently pushes the rim down away from your mouth with two spread fingers when you go to take a sip.

“Would you spit in it? Please?” This time, you don’t give your doubts a chance to articulate themselves.

It hits the insulated inner wall with a shrill ping and drips slowly down into Jack’s coffee, and before you have a chance to fuck this up, you’re forcing the tumbler back into his hands and retreating to the doorway, envelope clutched in a death grip.

“You have a call at eleven. It’ll become my problem if you’re late again, so maybe figure something out.” you suggest on your way out. Just as the door clicks shut, you fail to stop yourself from turning back and get an eyeful of him swirling the mixture like he’s at a wine tasting and gulping it down in one shot.

Your new arrangement develops rather quickly after that. Now that he’s no longer trying to conceal his interests, Jack is practically falling at your feet whenever the two of you are alone. The rest of the team is already used to you showing up early and staying late, so what difference does it make in their eyes if you’re actually doing work or dragging him around his office by his tie and beating a raise out of him with his own shoes? Initially, you shy away from indulging as much as he’d like and keep your authorized user status just for groceries, rent, the boring shit. It’s not until the first time he sits you down in his chair with his laptop open and tells you not to stop shopping until you’re squeezing his tongue that you allow yourself to see the real appeal of having an unlimited credit line. He’s already got your info on autofill; god, what a thoughtful little freak, you think as you book recurring massage after manicure after private museum tour after clearing out your Bergdorf cart. The digits and commas are blurring before your eyes as you struggle to navigate the Cartier homepage, and soon you’re just clicking add to cart on anything that slightly catches your attention. You cursor twitches once, twice, in time with the unrelenting work of his fingers (he refuses to roll up his sleeves, says he loves you sticking to his cuff links), but you manage to click purchase all before focusing your full attention on your incoming orgasm.

Jack tugs his phone out to check his pending charges without letting your clit slip from between his lips, and the elated moan he lets vibrate through you when he sees the final total has you drenching him down to his shirt collar.

Since he’s always this desperate, it’s hard to play along with the little song and dance he does of pretending you need to rein it in. You have to bite your tongue to not laugh and just say “no problem!” every time he requests that you please stay within budget today after his first sip of spit coffee. Obviously, there’s never been one; the only parameter you give yourself is a minimum of two supremely gaudy purchases per week for him to “notice” so you can get the ball rolling. Like today. Your new heels are hideous and feel like they’re lined with steel wool, but they fulfill their duty of catching the attention that was already yours to begin with.

“Those aren’t the shoes you had on this morning.” You don’t even glance up from your monitor.

“Nope.”

“When did you find time to go to Saks again?”

This time, you give him a look like he’s 500 years old and couldn’t rotate a pdf to save his life.

“I was working remote from their cafe. The chairs are really nice.”

“Yeah, they’re real nice in my office, too.” It’s clearly not a suggestion.

As per usual, you elect to sit on Jack’s desk just to needle him. When he lifts your leg to get a better look at the new heels, his nose crinkles up in disgust.

“These things will fuck up your back.”

“They’re car to table only, you should know that.” Your other foot swings around to tuck against his sacrum and nudge him in between your legs.

He’s trying his best to act upset, but you can feel his dick throbbing through his slacks.

“How much did you spend today?” You make a big show of pretending to think for a moment.

“I’m not sure. More than you made?”

“You fucking bitch,” And that second leg is shooting up between you and kicking him back hard enough that he bumps into the filing cabinet.

“I ought to report you to HR for that.” only then does he notice the anklet, glinting wickedly under the soft amber lights. Jack pulls your foot closer and with frighteningly little effort nearly tugs you straight off his desk.

“Is this new, too? How much?” He’s got the same look on his face as when his manners are wearing thin on the phone, all carefully applied nonchalance ruined by the the ravenous impatience in his eyes.

“Ten,” and he straight up shudders. He presses the cool platinum against his cheek, and his eyes slip closed as he jerkily ruts against you. Through three layers of fabric, you can still feel every bend in his pulsing underside vein.

“You didn’t think to ask me first?”

“Why would I? It’s my money.” The choked up sob that spills out of him is abruptly morphed into an irritated groan by a knock at the door.

“Fuck, I can’t deal with this. Get rid of it.”

He’s plunked you into his chair and scuttled under the desk well before you can remind him that that’s not in your job description. Jack pulls your seat close enough to shove his nose right into your cameltoe just as the door swings open and one of your least amicable clients comes stomping in.

“Where the hell is he?! First it was ‘email me in a month’, now his direct line calls are getting dropped! My intern had to show me his fucking Instagram to prove that he was even in town!” And he keeps going, but you struggle to register any of it over Jack ever so politely licking you over your stockings like he’s taken you out for a lovely date first and not at all like he’s using you as a human shield to deflect this moron.

“I’m sorry. He’s not currently available.” Jack vacuums your clit right into his mouth at that, rolling and twisting his tongue over it like it’s a goddamn ring pop.

“That’s a load of horseshit. John’s never worked hard enough to be this fucking unreachable. Where is he?!” Normally, you’d be at least a little concerned about how close this guy looks to throttling you for your boss’s location, but the way Jack’s cheeks stick and unstick to your thighs as he rocks his head as best he can in the confined space is diverting most of your attention.

“I understand your frustration, sir,” your customer service voice wavers as he relentlessly sucks you through the fabric. “But there’s simply nothing I can do. Mr. Schlossberg is in meetings for the rest of the day and specifically asked not to be disturbed.” You press a warning foot against his dick, and he groans so loud you’re forced to squeeze your thighs around his head and cough to muffle it. Luckily, the client is too far up his own ass to notice.

“This is outrageous! He can’t just blow everyone off forever because his name is on the fucking building!”

“Your concerns are duly noted. Can I help you with anything else?” He’s already halfway out the door.

“Oh, go fuck yourself!” is yelled half at you, half in hope that Jack is in earshot. As soon as the door slams, you’re scooting backwards and pulling him after you by his shirt. Not that you’d have to, as he’s crawling to chase you across the carpet until you’re pressed right up against the floor to ceiling windows and white knuckling his armrests.

“Wolford doesn’t make these anymore!” you protest when he shreds your tights down the middle to lick you properly. You feel more than hear him laugh in response, and you swear you also detect a muffled “womp womp”. He always fingers you like shining up your seat is the whole point, like he’s only doing this to get to crudely lap and slurp the results up from under you just to spit them back onto your clit. You’re beginning to suspect he only took up bouldering to improve their endurance for you.

Jack finally relents when you twist both hands deep into his hair and drag him off of you. It’s gone curlier around the edges from his efforts, and paired with the overly dramatic lip smack and megawatt smile he hits you with, you can’t even pretend to be annoyed.

“You don’t seem that broken up about it.” He presses one more kiss to your clit before standing up and turning back to the file on his desk without missing a beat.

“Anyway, T&G wants this cleaned up by Thursday, so we should probably get back to it.” There’s no way he’s serious; he’s just trying to rile you up by pacing around, yapping and aimlessly shuffling papers with bubbles of saliva and pussy juice sliding down his face, but you hate that it works so well. Before you realize what you’re doing, you’ve wrapped your fingers around Jack’s tie and abruptly pulled him back down onto all fours, sending the unstapled proposal scattering across the floor.

“Nothing will happen to our portfolio if you just shut the fuck up for five minutes,” He’s all too eager to screw the rest of the day’s schedule when he rests his chin between your legs on the chair’s seat and grins cheekily up at you.

“Only five?”

[greykolla-art]

Sketchbook tour #2 many werewolves.

Critical role pose study :

My Graphic novel main character stuff. Little bastard. And his werewolf girlfriend.❤️ (and a random wizard I sometimes draw)

Werewolf oc’s. Had him for a whiiiile! He’s always doing his best.👌

Ofmd (Hell or High Water fanfic art)

Trope-y werewolf and fortune teller art.

😜

[seagull-scribbles]

“Ain’t turtles supposed to be endangered?”

“Only the ones who can’t do this!”

[viperwhispered]

Too Hard

Woop part 2 of the trip inside Jamil's head. Part 1 here.

The next time Jamil caught sight of you on campus, his first instinct was to turn around on his heel.

What a stupid thought to have because of you.

Besides, that would only make him more conspicuous, not less.

So, when your eyes met his, Jamil gave you a short nod in greeting. He would’ve left it at that and kept on his way, had you not walked up to him.

“Hi Jamil! How’s it going?” you said with that impossibly disarming smile of yours.

Why was it so difficult to look at you like he normally would? You had no right to make him feel so stiff, so unnatural.

On autopilot, Jamil exchanged a few pleasantries with you - those lessons from his parents had been instilled too deep in him for him to falter too badly in a simple exchange such as this. Still, Jamil quickly excused himself by telling you he still had to find Kalim before his next class.

Jamil didn’t miss the way your smile faltered. Had you hoped to get something out of him?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see you two later, then.”

Something about that irked him, though Jamil did not allow himself to dwell on it further.

His heart really had no business still racing as it did when he walked away, unaware of the frown on his face.

Just act normal. That’s all he needed to do.

After all, he had no time for dwelling in silly fancies.

If Jamil had been acutely aware of you before, it only seemed to worsen now that he was making a conscious effort to not act any differently with you. In fact, the harder he tried to keep you out, the more you invaded his thoughts, unsettling him.

The most innocuous words from you looped in his mind, and even the simplest actions caught his eye. For goodness's sake, he’d found himself staring at you while you were queueing up in the cafeteria the other day, not even doing anything other than standing around and looking bored!

For once, Jamil found himself grateful for all his duties. At least they provided him with something else to occupy himself with.

After all, if he was busy enough, it was difficult to think about those bright eyes of yours, your sweet laugh, or the way you bit your lip while thinking.

Still, sometimes it felt like no matter which way he turned, you were there, ready to throw him off-kilter. Not like it was his fault that often the most convenient route to class intersected with your daily routines. Or that your face seemed to jump out from any crowd, catching his attention.

Which certainly did not help his basketball performance. Jamil certainly did not recall you having such an interest in sports before, yet suddenly you were always there, distracting him. What had changed?

Could you possibly-

Jamil scoffed to himself, forcing his thoughts back on track for the nth time that day.

He picked up the tray of food and started taking it to Kalim. After dinner, he’d need to help Kalim with his homework, there were some housewarden tasks that would need dealing with, not to mention the preparations for the next-

Jamil froze in his tracks.

The voice he heard was quiet, but it was unmistakably you.

Really, it should not have come as such a surprise to him. You had become a rather frequent visitor to Scarabia, and Kalim often invited you to stay for meals. In fact, Jamil had started planning the dorm’s meal prep with your tastes and dietary restrictions in mind, just in case.

Jamil rounded the corner with strange exhilaration, his heart fluttering needlessly.

Yet, his mood evaporated when he saw you.

Why did you stop talking and look so guilty as soon as you caught sight of Jamil?

Jamil knew that look you gave to Kalim, had used it himself a thousand times. The one telling Kalim to keep quiet about something.

What could there possibly be that you would be comfortable sharing with Kalim, but not with him? That would give Kalim reason to sit so close to you, a comforting hand on your shoulder?

Jamil's mind raced with possibilities, yet could not settle for any single explanation.

He’d have to ask Kalim about it later.

Jamil gave you a short, polite greeting, his eyes lingering on you in an attempt to read what you were hiding.

“If I’d known you were coming over, I would’ve prepared something for you to eat as well,” Jamil said, already thinking about which parts of the dorm’s dinner to spruce up for you.

“Oh, no need, just figured I’d pop by. I’ll get out of your hair soon enough,” you said, something sheepish about your expression.

As expected, Kalim asked you to stay and dine with them, and with just a bit more persuasion you agreed - though not before telling Jamil that he should join you too and have himself a breather.

And since Kalim agreed with you, Jamil soon found himself sharing a meal with you and Kalim. Yet, even as he sat down with the food, his mind raced.

Had you been getting particularly close to Kalim lately? But surely Jamil would’ve noticed such a thing. Maybe someone from the dorm had been giving you trouble? But if that was the case, then surely you could let Jamil know about it, too. Unless for some reason you did not want to? But if it was something that concerned Kalim, then sooner or later it was bound to concern Jamil, too.

All the while, Kalim was talking to you about this and that, the latest topic being the animals kept on the Asim estate.

“I’ve got some pictures, let me show you!” Kalim said with an excited grin.

Only, a thorough patting of his pockets and a look around confirmed that Kalim’s phone was nowhere to be seen.

Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. Where had Kalim left it this time?

Before Jamil even had the chance to say that he would handle it, Kalim sprinted off. Jamil hesitated for a moment, automatically halfway up from his seat, before he decided that leaving a guest unattended would be a worse offense than not helping out his master.

Jamil slumped back down with a sigh, mentally tracing the path Kalim took today, trying to recall the last time he saw Kalim handle his phone.

“Breathe. He’ll manage,” you said. There was the faintest of smiles on your lips, and Jamil could not decide if it was knowing or amused. Perhaps both.

Somehow, despite his frustration, Jamil’s own lips wanted to curl up too.

“Hmm. Maybe he will.”

Sure, Jamil could’ve called Kalim’s phone, to make it easier to find, but it was not that urgent, was it?

Jamil took another bite of his food, keeping an eye on you from the corner of his eye.

How was his mind so empty and so buzzing at the same time?

“You know-”

“So-”

You looked at each other, both just as surprised that the other had spoken up at the same time.

Even your surprised look was so-

“You first,” Jamil said. The way you bit your lip... Jamil had to raise a cup to his lips, slowly sipping his drink.

“Just… Feels like it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you be still, you know. Or exchanged more than two words with you,” you said. You were attempting a light, joking tone, yet it was quite clear there was more to it.

“You say that like it would be unusual for me to be busy.”

He was not prepared for the way your soft sigh tugged at his heartstrings.

“No. It is not.”

You were both quiet after, poking at your meals. Normally, Jamil would’ve cherished such a moment of peace, yet this particular silence between you two was decidedly awkward.

Where was your usual chatter? Why weren’t you looking at him like you usually did?

“If you’re worried about me, don’t. I’m fine,” Jamil said, some softness creeping into his tone despite his best intentions.

“That's what Kalim said too,” you said. Yet the way you looked at Jamil made it clear you were still skeptical.

Wait.

Had you clammed up earlier because it had been Jamil you had been talking about with Kalim? That Kalim had comforted you about?

The thought twisted his stomach into knots.

Eta: you can find part 3 here, part 4 here, and finally part 5 here. Hasdhfsdf the way I fought with that last scene I swear. I don't even want to know how many versions I went through, trying to figure out how to say what I wanted without rubbing it into your face or making it too veiled. The joys of trying to convey things through a limited pov. Hopefully it came out reasonably balanced in the end. Rip to all those sentences that were lovely on their own but didn’t work for the whole. Hopefully I can rehome y’all one day. I do have thoughts for part 3 and part x (might be some chapters between those two as well, who knows at this point), so maybe we'll see those at some point, too. Tag list: @colliope @crystallizsch @diodellet @jamilsimpno69 @jamilvapologist @twstgo If you'd like to be tagged for future works, let me know! (Just be aware that sometimes I do also write nsfw, though you can certainly ask to be tagged only for particular kinds of works.)

[littl3d0ll-art]

More goat doodles yay!

POV you try to rizz up your crush’s crush to break his heart later, sending him into emotional turmoil so bad it makes your crush stop liking him, but you can’t come up with anything nice to say(also you don’t know shit about romance):

[crybaby-bkg]

cw: you two have a son together, mention of being married, old man Bakugou

older retired pro hero Bakugou, who you find hunched over his desk one night. it’s late and the day was long and your son was whinier than he usually is. you’d think the old man would be in bed right now, but alas—he’s not beside you.

instead, as you round the corner to get a full look at him, he’s wearing his reading glasses, adorning an old ratty tank, his arms still big but softer than the years from before. he has a book open in front of him, desk scattered with pictures you can’t see from your angle, scissors, stickers, glue sticks.

“What are you getting up to at this hour, old man?” You ask softly, smiling when Bakugou doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. his tongue is sticking out in the corner as he cuts a squiggly line on a picture, posing it beside another on a blank piece of paper.

“Therapist said I should get into crafting,” he grunts, finally looking over at you from over his glasses. “Do things with my hands, feel busy, get my mind off’a shit.”

you pad over to where he sits, the overhead lamp on his desk focused on the big baby blue book with white pages. peeking over his shoulder, you rest your head on top of his, chin nestled in the still unruly blond and silver locks, overseeing his work.

and honestly? it almost makes you wanna cry. it’s a scrapbook, the page open to pictures of your wedding day, how pretty you looked, how big he smiled at you. you can see other scattered pictures on his desk—when you got a promotion at work, when he was number one for seven months in a row, a positive pregnancy test, the cutest baby you’ve ever seen, two little teeth coming in, baby being held in dads big ole arms that will always protect him.

“After this page, I gotta do the honeymoon.” Bakugou speaks gruffly, setting down a picture to wipe a hand down his face. “And then life accomplishment shit, the baby, his first steps.” He sounds so tired, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding down to smush your face against his own.

“You always have tomorrow. Come to bed.” You say against his cheek, squeezing him when you feel the rejection start up in his belly. But he deflates, pulling his glasses off, reaching around to pull you in his lap. He looks so grumpy, with his frown lines and crows feet, and yet so handsome with his small smile and soft eyes.

“I’ll print more pictures tomorrow. And maybe go by the store to get some more stickers, too.” He tells you in between kisses, his words soft, his hands rough through your pajamas. You hum against his mouth, holding his nape, afraid to ever let him go.

“You do that. Now let’s go to bed.” You whisper, standing up and pulling him with you. He closes the scrapbook for now, and you glimpse at the cover, heart melting at the picture of you two holding up your son, both kissing his cheeks. The picture is captioned with “Our Life” and you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful to have met him.

[mfdragon]

Idk if this is a thing but the idea of making like Hyperfixation-Sonas came to me suddenly. The state of the different obsessions of my life as they are now.

Maybe I’ll make more but I just wanted to get this out of me for now ✌️

[ryssbelle]

Have you heard about a new ship between John Dory Delta Dawn? Though I find it kind of weird

It is on TikTok and Tumblr, If You want to check it out?

I’ve heard of it, I think their ship is as old as tbt at this point XD

I think their dynamic is really funny

[turtleblogatlast]

One of my favorite things about Leo’s portals is the fact that they’re tangible.

He can throw those like frisbees and hit people with them like?? The boys’ abilities are so fun and magical and even sci-fi-esque but this aspect of Leo’s portals are so distinctly a Looney Tunes flavor of cartoon-y that I absolutely adore.

And sure this aspect of the portals can be used for fighting, but moreover the sheer amount of visual gags this does and can create is infinite.

[the-woman-upstairs]

Firmly believe that if Ford had joined the Henchmaniacs, he and Pyronica would’ve instantly become besties. Ford finds out she’s a quantum physics genius who burned her city to the ground when she didn’t receive the proper appreciation she so rightfully deserved and is like “oh she’s just like me fr.” They would’ve been a “two queens maximizing their joint slay” dynamic for the ages.