#dc shoes t shirt

[designmiss]

T-shirt Monster World Rally Team DC https://www.design-miss.com/t-shirt-monster-world-rally-team-dc/ DC ha realizzato in collaborazione con Monster la t-shirt del World Rally Team. La potete acquistare qui. Di seguito anche un fantastico video di una Gymkhana con Ken Block.    

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt #7

Robin is heretofore thought to be alone when he swings his katana behind him, almost catching the Adam's apple of his mother's new lover.

"Whoopsie!" Danny says, taking an agile step back, as if Robin's slice was a slip of the hand rather than a deliberate and likely fatal attack.

"What are you doing here," Robin demands, mask hiding the momentary widen of his eyes. No one sneaks up on the heir of Batman, least of all his mother's latest toy.

"I wanted to chat, just you and I," Danny says, as if they are standing on a sidewalk and not the rooftop of a forty floor building in the dead of night, Robin in full costume. "I know you were kinda caught off guard yesterday night."

"I was not caught off guard."

This is a lie. Yesterday night when Talia had appeared at the latest Wayne Charity Ball as the date of Daniel Fenton, an up-and-coming name in renewable energy, Father's dumbfounded look had been nothing less than genuine.

And even the Annoyance had choked on his non-alcoholic champagne when Talia had instructed Damian to greet his "new stepfather".

"Talia," Danny had said levelly, running a hand over hers placed delicately in the crook of his arm, "Remember how we were going to break this gently?"

"Darling, Al Ghuls do not require a gentle break," Talia had replied.

"What is happening," Tim had quietly muttered, squinting at the contents of his glass suspiciously. "What."

Tonight Danny is as calm as he was the previous night, looking amused if anything. Damian resists the urge to take another swing at him. Mother would probably not like that. Danny's affections towards her had seemed quite genuine, his eyes often on her with a light Damian reluctantly recognized from Grayson's many dalliances. And dare he say it, Mother had seemed to reciprocate.

"My mistake. Still," Danny says, "I was hoping to speak with you alone."

"I do not require another father," Damian says promptly. This is true. He already has a father, and a Grayson, and the other annoyances, and Alfred. "And you should not be speaking to a...minor...without their guardian present." He does not like saying this, as he is fully capable of being his own guardian, but Dick had been adamant once updated by Tim and Barbara that should Damian come in contact with Danny alone he was to say as such. He had extracted a promise from Damian after a high-pitched lecture via video call going on nigh an hour. Damian had been waterboarded, twice, and would have preferred a third time to one of Grayson's seminars on "stranger danger" and "parental custody". It had prevented him from going on patrol with Batman, who had left shortly after the gala, presumably to meet with his mother.

Batman had not succeeded, returning without a word. Red Hood, cackling, had pulled up behind him to congratulate Damian on his new "daddy" and loudly tell Oracle how Bruce had gotten an eyeful. An eyeful of what, Damian wasn't sure, and asking only made Jason laugh harder and Dick yell from the Batcomputer.

"Good thing I'm speaking to Robin, then," Danny says with a grin. Damian updates his mental file on the man to less of a goody two-shoes than previously thought. "And like I said last night, I'm not here to overstep."

"Then?" Robin asks crossing his arms.

"You and I are a lot alike, actually," Danny says. Despite the chill of the night, wind whipping at his hair, he seems very comfortable in his t-shirt and jeans.

Damian scoffs and Danny holds his hands up.

"Okay, I deserved that one. What I mean is, and bear with me here, I had a lot going on when I was your age, and my parents weren't always super...present. Their work kept them pretty distracted as we got older and more independent."

The background check they'd run indicated Danny's parents were scientists, his sister a therapist and women's self-defense instructor. The man himself had nothing remarkable on his record beyond a public intoxication charge in his early twenties, but that hardly meant anything. Talia Al Ghul's public record was nothing short of exemplary, one of the many facts that had made the judge reluctant to grant Bruce full custody.

"And listen, I know the way I was raised in the midwest is vastly different from your upbringing, and comparing the two would likely be condescending and a disservice to you, but I also know that while I liked my independence, I wish I had been able to talk to my parents more when things got tough."

"I fail to understand what you are saying," Damian says flatly. "Are you instructing me to speak to my parents as you believe I am having a hard time? And your basis for this incredibly incorrect hypothesis is you were once a teenager whose parents were neglectful? Also, this is certainly overstepping."

Danny's smile is sheepish. "It is, isn't it?"

Damian turns to leave.

"What I'm trying to say," Danny says loudly. "Is that I intend to stay in Gotham. I have some things I need to see to here so I'll be here a while.

"And this is important to me because--"

"Talia will be staying." When Damian continues to stare at him blankly, he clarifies: "With me. Here. I mean, we definitely will go on a honeymoon at some point, even though I'm not sure we're actually married no matter what Talia says about that ceremony--"

"Tt. Grandfather will never let Mother simply galavant around."

"You don't need to worry about Ra's any more," Danny says, straightening. His voice is firm and certain. "He won't be bothering you or your mother."

"That's impossible," Damian says sharply.

"You can ask Talia yourself." Danny pulls out a card. "This is the hotel we're staying at. Room 805. You are right that you definitely shouldn't come without your father's permission, but if he's alright with it please feel free."

Danny takes a step closer, and if Damian's quick grip on his katana bothers him he doesn't show it.

"I mean it Robin. I'm not saying Talia's going to petition for joint custody, and I'll make sure Batman knows that as well. I just want you to know she's here. If you ever want to...see her."

He holds out the card until Damian plucks it from his hand with a growl.

"And also, Damian?"

"What?" Damian snaps.

"Your mom talks about you all the time. I think she'd like to see you too."

"Tt." Damian says, eyes darting down to the card. When they flick back up, Danny is gone.

Damian pulls a quick 360, sword drawn, but the man is nowhere to be seen.

"Robin," Batman says in his comm. "Need you on the west docks."

His comm line was open the whole time, he realizes, but Oracle is uncharacteristically silent. A further investigation shows no time has passed since Danny arrived at the roof. Only the card clenched in his fist indicates he was ever there.

"On my way," Damian says, sheathing his weapon.

Hmph. Of course. His mother is no fool, least of all in her selection of lovers.

Upon arriving at the cave later that night, Damian exits the clock at the rear of the group.

"Father," he says as he clears the threshold. "I wish to spend time with Mother and Stepfather at their earliest convenience. Perhaps tomorrow after school."

Everyone stops still, turning to look back at him. Tim pauses mid-stretch, Steph's jaw drops, and Cassie smiles pleasantly at him. Even Alfred, a tray of freshly baked cookies in hand, blinks at him.

Bruce's mouth opens and closes, wordlessly.

"Absolutely not!" Dick Grayson screeches from the other end of the hallway, dufflebag in hand. Behind him Jason grasps the doorway, doubled over in laughter.

[luveline]

aaahhh okay wait imagine Emily is away on a case longer than usual and comes home without telling r to surprise her and sees that reader has been like idk wearing her shirt or sleeping with her pillow or idk just like something to feel close to her

thank you for your request ♡ fem!reader

Emily knows you're in her bed before she's so much as opened her front door. She lives in a nice building across from Washington, DC, in an apartment that glows with the lights of the city. It takes time to get home after a case, but the view isn't one you'd find anywhere else. 

She'd fly a hundred hour flight if it meant getting to ch ome home to you. It sounds silly and corny, like a fairytale she didn't believe in, but there's something about you that inspires cliches. Like, your beat up converse arranged neatly so as not to disrupt her tower of high heels and boots. Your coat on the rack with the arms and hood smoothed down, and the way you arrange Sergei's food and water bowls intricately every time you visit because you're aware of Emily's penchant for orderliness. 

She knows you're here because of all of these things, but really, she has a freaky sixth sense when it comes to you, and seeing you curled up on her side of the bed cements it perfectly. 

She locks her gun away in its safe and puts her shoes and jacket away. Quiet, she slinks to where you're sleeping with the sheets up to your nose and bends down to check you over. She knows nothing has happened since she saw you last, but it doesn't matter. She needs to look at you properly. 

You're on your side, face angled down, arm a lump under the sheets. Emily smiles and, despite the singing urge to wipe away the day's faded makeup and brush out curls crunchy with hairspray, lingers, holding her hand up to your face, stroking a short line.

You won't wake from it. Maybe you're a heavy sleeper or maybe you know it's her, but she never wakes you up when she comes home. 

Sergei snores little nosed snores from his fluffy bed. Emily laughs as you do the same, though she frets (and she'd deny it if anyone asked, but frets all the same) that you can't breathe with the blankets smushed to your nose as they are. 

Gently, she pulls down the sheets. 

Her lips fall from their fond smile. Tucked in your arms like a life jacket is a soft white camisole, the last shirt Emily slept in before she left. 

She isn't excessively loud about loving you —she isn't quiet about wanting you, but that isn't the same— and you aren't overly forthcoming. 

Which isn't to say she doesn't feel loved, Emily knows she's loved in the same way you must know it, with the burning, aching sort of desire that has you pinching her hips when she walks by, or begging her to share a shower with you even if it'll make her late for work. But Emily hadn't realised how much you loved her in this sense. The difference between missing her company and missing the intrinsic smell of her skin is unsaid and yet yawning; you love her enough to curl around a dirty t-shirt. This is the kind of love that grows old together. 

Emily's particular about things, but not tonight. Fuck it, she hopes she gets mascara on the silk pillow case as she climbs into bed behind you. Let it be a monument to how she feels, any hint of fatigue replaced with silky soft wanting. 

"'Mily?" you murmur, covering her arm where it curves over your waist. 

"No," she whispers, "axe murderer. Sorry, babe, welcome to your nightmare." 

"I had a good run." You push her back a touch as you roll onto your back, squinting at her through thick-knitted lashes. 

"You can sleep. I'll still be here in the morning, I promise." 

"Y'here now. Missed you, Emily," you murmur, turning more, vying to hold her waist as she holds yours. You sound a little upset, but that could be the sudden wake up call. 

"I'm sorry," she says, smiling at you in hopes of getting one back. "But I'm home early. That's a good thing, right?" 

"Can I put my face in your neck?" you ask. 

Emily tries to say yes. All she can summon is a mute nod and a tight smile —she's happy, yeah, but she feels strangely like crying. It's a scary thing, finding out how loved you are. Suddenly she has to worry about it being taken away. 

You wrap your arms around her, your skin hot with a furnace like heat. Mumbling, your face fits into the curve of her neck, your lips skipping against it as you say, "Love you… you okay?" 

Her smile shocks back to life. She presses it to your forehead without hesitation. "I'm fine now. Love you. You can go back to sleep." 

"I really really missed you." 

Emily feels each word fan against her neck. It's a sensation she's sure she'll remember for years to come. "I missed you, too." 

[wxxpingangxls]

Peaches and Cream

+sypnosis; struggling on ideas for you new best seller, 'Poison', you use inspiriation from your new found relationship

+content/warnings; no explicit description of reader as usual anyone can read, fluff, making out, grinding, begging, teasing, Eren is pretty straight forward, lowercase intended

+pairings; Eren x HyperfemBlackReader

+a/n; this was requested from a very beautiful mind, tysm @0zero0-0

walking along the fields, you closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath. you silently took in the scenery of the forest, sunshine peeking through the towering trees almost as if they were playing hide and seek. the birds sweet tunes filled your eyes, whilst you hummed a song that had been stuck in your head. in reality, you were meant to be working on a book of yours. it was supposed to be the new best seller. “poison” was the name. you internally hated yourself for taking this direction in life, for taking the initiative to pursue your passion in writing.

“poison” was a dark novel about how quickly love can spread; you can either over come it and glow or it’ll be the death of you. not literally of course.

you figured walking out during the warm evening would clear your mind, however even the sounds of nature weren’t enough to gift you even seconds of mental silence. your mind truly was your worst enemy. you tentatively continued to embark this adventure to further increase your creativity. You hoped so hard that you would get some sort of inspiration. You stopped, momentarily to stare at the beautiful hydrengas surrounding the nearby field. 'oh wow' you thought to yourself, before reaching over to feel the flowers.

“careful there, princess,” you jumped upon hearing a voice behind you. you hadn’t for a moment stopped to think that someone was trailing behind you. you turned around with a dry throat to face the voice. a familiar face stared back expectantly. “eren?” his long dark hair was cascading down his face and his green eyes were brighter than ever. he was smiling cheekily whilst watching your startled expression. “hey stranger, it’s been a while…”

“yeah…it’s been a while,” you giggled softly.

“some might say too long, how’ve you been?” he chuckled, walking closer towards you.

“far too long, and i’m great,”

“yeah, i’ve seen. you’ve got another book on the way,”

“hm yeah, just came out here for inspiration…” you spoke thoughtfully.

the pink maxi skirt you were wearing flowed in the wind as you both stood there in silence.

you hadn’t known how, but by some miracle, that inspiration you needed so badly was now flowing through your mind. you suddenly felt so much more confident in your own writing. as you were getting to the climax of your novella, you remembered Eren and your history.

you too weren’t close but there had always been a thick tension in the room. there was an unspoken sense of silent admiration on his side. he’d always felt magnetised to your bright pink spirit. he loved the way you waltzed into every room, hair and nails always done. signature colors of pink, white and purple always adorned you sweet - smelling, soft skin. not to mention your lips were always glossed up and soaked in a pout. it was no surprise that you hadn’t change— why would you? you wore these colors so beautifully. which is why he was at your door with a bouquet of pink roses and purple lilies.

a single door bell startled you and you jumped straight out of your day dream. you tentatively creeped downstairs towards the front door before slowly but carefully removing the curtain to reveal who was standing on the other side of the door.

Eren stood sheepishly, his long dark hair yet again . this time he stood with a crowd of flowers. he had an affliction t-shirt with a white long sleeve underneath. you could see his dc x slayer shoes peeking under through his baggy trousers .

“eren?” you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

“hey beautiful…” he watched as you beamed up at him. your pink silk robe was opening slightly to reveal your cleavage. a matching satin hair band was tied on your hairline to create a cute bow at the top. your smile widened as you saw his gift that he bought.

“oh, i bought this to congratulate you on your book,” he handed the flowers towards you.

“oh thank you eren! please, come inside,” you held a hand on your heart and the other was holding the assortment.

eren sat patiently as you went to put the beautiful plants in water. “so, how’s the book coming along?”

“it’s going…ok, i just need something for the romance part of the book,”

“romance …huh, i didn’t take you for the romance type,” his hand slowly inches towards your face. at this point, your hand rested on his thigh and his layed on your cheek.

“i want you so bad y/n,” you whispered into your ear.

“huh…?” you stumbled on your words.

“if you can huh then you can hear,”

eren watched as your expression changed from thoughtful to bashful. “just tell me…you want me back, please,” his hand slowly stroked against your throat.

“i…”

“you?”

“please, i want you,”

erens mouth found home on yours, his tongue clashing with yours. drool and spit was swapped as the two of you pushed deeper into the kiss. his hand found purchase on your neck whilst yours were placed at the back of his head.

finally breaking the kiss, you looked over to him, eyes bright. “God you’re so hot,”

you just giggled shyly, before squealing as he pulled you on top of him, your crotches directly on top of each other. before you could whine out from the pressure on your cunt, his tongue was shoved down your throat again. he watched as you whimpered into his mouth, both of your hips grinding desperately against each other. deciding to take initiative, your hand goes to his throat and squeezes slightly.

“oh fuck…” you both groaned in unison. your hips never once faltered. you could feel his hard cock twitch under the material of his jeans and your own cunt leaking all over his pants.

you could feel it coming to close. and you could tell he did too. his hands grabbed the fat of your hips almost painfully tight, and his head was thrown back in pleasure. your hips just started to move faster and faster, you could feel your high coming closer and you couldn’t let it go. eren watched as your eyes filled with excitement, his own filling with ecstasy.

sweat formed on both of your foreheads as you pushed harder to strive for your final high.

“mphm…” you groaned out as your cunt pulsed around nothing, cumming all over his trousers, making a mess of yourself. eren was no better, his own pants soiled , so much so, that you could feel his sticky cum attaching itself to your thighs and your labia.

panting out, he let out a satisfied sigh. the sweetness of your cunt wafted into his nose as you moaned out. you were still twitching from your intense high. anyone could hear the loud squelching of both of your privates still grinding against one another.

finally, you lay down on his chest, your face on the crook of his neck. his hand stayed playing with your left butt cheek while another was in your hair.

“what do you say we go for another…” he suggested.

just as you were about to open your mouth to reply, a familiar loud voice stood outside your door, impatient and angry. you both sat up immediately shocked. eren watched as a guilty expression replaced your pleasured one from earlier.

[dilfhos]

TRAINRIDE

#!WHO; DABI x fem!READER

A! i hope u ignore this cus its stupid but I think dabi/touya being a total scum to huge endeavor fan reader should be a thing

+ (i added my twist to it; at the time this was sent, i was on my dc shit heavy and id already started it)

#!CW: deadoves!n0nc0n, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, implied exhibitionism, gaslighting, touya arc if you squint real close! dabi has dick piercings bc i said so

tagging: @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @dabislittlemouse @nyx--knacks @the-grimm-writer @ectologia

Dabi hated taking public transportation, especially now.

It subjected him to having to conceal his identity for one, blending into the fleeting crowds with dark, long clothing. It didn’t bother him as much had it been any other time, one where he wasn’t on constant guard or easily irritated by familiar phrases and his face.

Dabi only gave a quick glance to the glass behind him, eyeing the way his big hood hung low on his head, hand deep into his trench pocket as the other supported his balance. He drew his hood lower at the glance from a man on his left.

The train eased to a stop and the doors slid open as the crowd swarmed to bring in and send out more people. When the doors closed and the train began to move again, he found himself being thrown forward. A small yelp came from the woman in front of him, turned partially.

He was about to mumble something before his eyes made contact with what she was wearing.

Seeing that you were brazenly adorned in merchandise of the number one hero, he scrunched his nose up at the sight of your complimentary accessories before finally settling on your face. Preoccupied with your phone to notice his oggling, you shifted, body moving with the force of the train as it started moving.

Dabi didnt mean to look, but the subtle quake of your chest piqued his vision and he wished he wasn’t met with those same fucking eyes. How cringe you looked with the familiar navy phone-case you had on the back of your phone to match.

In fact, if Dabi wanted to, he’d stand there and count every one of Endeavor’s paraphernalia and the number could be well over three. You really walk around like that? Parading your favorite hero on your body like a fangirl poster.

He chuckled darkly before rolling his eyes. Yeah, you probably had one or two of them in your room that you fuck yourself to at night to boot.

The train was only a little crowded but not enough to fully obscure your body from his view. You were dressed in jeans, the denim pairing with a snug t-shirt that sculpted your chest perfectly under his gaze. On the back he could see the familiar bright flames. They were disgustingly familiar, completing the stoic features of the hero on the front.

“Endeavor, huh?” You finally glanced up, a bit surprised to find barely anyone on board at this point. A few men sat adjacent, some sleep, others occupied on their own devices and papers or simply dead in gaze as they awaited their respective stops.

Then him, of course.

Turning fully around you face the source of the comment and your heart began to hammer.

Under a subtle glance or two, he didn’t look too out of the ordinary. Dark pants, shoes and a coat on his back, he could’ve as easily passed for some unremarkable human being cold and exhausted from days events. However, under the certain proximity, you had a clear view of his face, unmistakably his metal-littered, scarred face and the dangerously piercing gaze to match.

You parted your lips but he held up a finger, silencing you before you could squeak a sound. He glanced around toward the few other occupants in the car, noting them to be of no significance until his eyes returned back to yours, the silent threat of impending danger weighing heavily in the air around you.

“Are you-are you going to kill me?” You finally said, voice sickeningly timid. Wide eyes peered up at him, height clearing yours as he slowly backed you towards the side of the car.

“He your favorite hero?” Dabi ignored your question, eyes flickering to your chest before his hand followed. You squeaked in surprise as he boldly placed his hand against your breast.

Jerking away, you prepare to to defend yourself when he gripped your wrist.

“To answer the question, I’m not gonna kill you. ‘M just gonna hurt you real bad though,” You’re spun before another word is uttered, the rattling of metal against wheels loud enough to drown your protests.

“Please don’t do this,” His hands were exploring your body, running up your thighs and cruelly pinching at the skin on your sides before settling on the hem of your jeans.

“Please don’t,” You whimpered shakily, meeting the villain’s eyes in the glass.

“I just feel like ya personally insulting me y’know?” He grunted over the sound of his belt clinking. His hand was back on your side now, nails digging into the meat of the exposed skin until drawing a wince.

Dabi shuffled forward until your hands were pressed against the wall of the train, steadying yourself. His other made quick work of yanking down your jeans until they rested around your thighs, panties on display before his hungry gaze.

“D-don’t. I’ll scream.” By now, you’d been reduced to a whimpering, teary-eyed mess, your frantic gaze shifting through the other riders for a witness to what was going on.

But they were all too preoccupied to care.

“Yeah, for who?” The passengers that did notice were the wrong ones.

You met the greedy eyes of the man closest to you and the way his own dropped down to your connected bodies. Dabi was quick to notice that and chuckled before leaning down toward your ear.

“Still your idol, doll? This is his society, you know? The one on your ridiculously, ugly top,” He snickered, his fingers hooking into the side of your panties.

Before you could cry out, his scarred hand clamped over your mouth at the same time as his cock breached your cunt. You tensed, nothing escaping you but a muffled gasp as he shoved himself past your tight ring of resistance. Your eyes were wide, peering back at you in the glass, reflecting off of the pain and horror present.

“Mm, so tight.” He licked the shell of your ear and you release a shuddering sob. He began a snappy, brutal pace, the thick cock dragging heavily through your dry walls. Every time he pulled away, you felt every vein, every metallic orb scraping against gummy insides.

He slammed back into you at the same time the train screeched over rusted tracks, grunting with every stroke, his thin hip bones snapping against your ass.

His grip was bruising as he held onto your waist, his wrist only flicking to push and pull you back onto his dick. His other hand remained pressed against your mouth to muffle your cries and moans. You reached behind to at least try and push him away, alleviate the grating pain he was causing but your attempts were laughable as he only slapped away your efforts.

Dabi sped up, stumbling forward until your front was pressed against the metal interior, body squished between hot and cool. The hand over your mouth dropped to hang loosely around your neck, tilting your head back to meet his. The hood over his head only served to make him all the more menacing with the shadow that casted over his grotesque features.

“What do you think Mr. Endeavor would say if he saw his biggest fan being defiled like this? Probably be disgusted huh? I mean, allowing a complete stranger to fuck you on public transportation.” Your eyes closed as you imagined the twisted look of repulsion on your favorite hero and the image brought you to more tears.

You hiccupped as he trailed fingers down in between your legs to brush against your clit, missing the way his grin widened at the way you suddenly tense up. You released a pained moan at the way your pussy clamped down on him.

“So sensitive,” He chuckled at the way you try and bite down your orgasm. He could feel you start to relax, your cunt pulsating around him as your juices started to slick him up.

Overhead, the sound of the loudspeaker crackling at the next stop had Dabi’s eyes glancing up, as if now aware of the time. Releasing you, his hand fell to your other hip where his blunt nails dug as his pace quickened.

“Stop’s coming up,” He mumbled. You didn’t really hear him though. You were busy trying not to give in to the way his cock was filling you up, the pain parting into pleasure, your juices beginning to fall and squish around his dick.

Your head hung low; you couldn’t even look at your reflection in the glass anymore, at the way your brows furrowed over glossy, blown eyes. The way your wet lips part to release silent moans. You were despicable. You couldn’t call yourself a fan of the great Endeavor anymore, not after this.

Not after him.

Dabi’s feet planted firmly, his hips suddenly stuttering to a halt. He was quick to conceal your squeal with his hand again as his dick twitched in your cunt. Your teary eyes widened as you felt warmth flooding you, too horrified to even move save for your trembles.

He was still going, slowly rutting his nut back into you with shallow strokes. It was only until you heard a chime overhead that he pulled away with a content sigh.

Dabi eyed the way his cum was beginning to seep down your thighs, dripping into your bunched up jeans and an idea formed in his head, one that had him grinning sadistically.

A moment later your trembling legs finally gave way allowing you to sink onto the floor.

He began to fix himself, adjusting the hood on his head. He threw a cocky salute to the man eyeballing him earlier and a final disgusted look down at those eyes on your shirt. He then shook his head with a forming smile, walking away and leaving you on the floor of the cold train. The whooshing of the doors were deafening in your ears as you looked up to greedy eyes.

Back at the hero agency, Endeavor’s phone lit up and a notification from an unknown number had his brows furrowed in confusion at the link. His scowl only deepened after further investigation.

DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content—current or archival.

[thetacticalspider]

drugs, gimme drugs, gimme druuugs ;)

image descriptions under the cut - too long for alt

[Image number 1 shows a redraw of the poster for the DC movie Birds of Prey, in which the characters are all replaced by members of the Killjoys from My Chemical Romance's fourth album.

In the center, taking up most of the picture is Party Poison, dressed in part as Harley Quinn. They have pale skin and bright red hair, which is styled in two small space buns on the top of their head with several strands hanging down around their face. They have a bright yellow mask across the top half of their face, which has dark diamond shapes across the eye holes and a blue gem on either end of the mask, as well as one on the forehead portion. Just below the bottom edge of the mask, we can see a small heart on their left cheek. The beginning letters of "PARTY" are written on their neck, dissappearing into the collar of their jacket, which is a dark blue-purple, with white stripes around the chest and red, white, and blue stripes on the arms, along with a small red and white patch on the left breast, the details of which aren't visible. Party's jean shorts are dark blue with black stripes going up and down the center part and red stars on the sides. There are several tattoos on their thighs, including a row of black and red diamonds, Party Poison's symbol of a pill with an X below it, a heart, and the words "poison + ghoul," all of which are upside-down, indicating that party did them themself while looking down at their own legs. In their right hand, Party holds a bright yellow gun by the muzzle and is propping it up on their shoulder.

In their left hand hand is a chain, connecting to the neck of Bob Briar, MCR's drummer, who is taking the place of Harley's pet hyena. He has red hair swept over one eye in the iconic emo bangs, the beginnings of a red mustache and beard, messy black eyeliner, a cursive necklace that says "Hyena," a black t-shirt, and blue jeans. He is on his hands and knees. Behind him is The Girl, taking the place of Cassandra Cain. She is a child with medium-brown skin and curly brown hair. She's wearing a black helmet with a small red stop sign on the front, red flowery sleeves and a black top underneath a blue collared vest with red and yellow cap sleeves. The Girl also has a funky red and blue layered belt made of a bunch of little circles over black pants and boots. She's got one arm pulled to her chest and the other is punching outwards towards the viewer. To her right and on the far left side of the page is Fun Ghoul, taking the place of Reneé Montoya. He's got light skin, short black hair with one buzzed side dyed red, though it kind of looks like blood o be honest, and tattoos on his hands. He's wearing a long-sleeved yellow shirt with a patch on the left shoulder under a dull green cargo vest. He's got a bright green ray gun in a brown holster which is slung across his body like a messenger bag, grey-green pants, and dark brown shoes. He looks sort of angry, has bent knees, and is holding his hands to his chest, like he's about to bare-knuckle box with someone. Very small and flying above the Girl's head is the Kobra Kid, taking the place of Huntress, aka Helena Bertinelli. He's got a red jacket over a yellow shirt with black squiggles on it and grey pants. Also, I thought it would be funny to make him look like Mikey from around 2004, so he's got loose brown hair and rectangular nerd glasses. His left arm is up and bent in half, while his right arm is extend and is aiming a red ray gun at something off of the page.

Finally, on Party's left and the far right of the page is Jet Star, taking the place of the Black Canary, aka Dinah Lance. He's got a curly brown afro, medium brown skin and a determined expression on his face. He's wearing a black jacket with the edges of an American flag on the back, though I appear to have forgotten which direction it's supposed to go in when I was drawing it, and dark grey pants with black shoes. Both hands are wrapped around the handle of a dark blue ray gun, which is being pointed at something off of the page. Above his head in blue pen, is written "can they keep The Girl safe?" and below his feet "tactical spider" is written as a signature. Along the bottom of the page, DANGER DAYS is written in large, light pink block letters. The letters are stylized in the same rounded way as those on the Birds of Prey poster and, instead of having holes where it is normal to have holes in letters, there are a variety of symbols on the letters, including the black Danger Days spider, Fun Ghoul's green ghoul face symbol, the letters P J F K, Kobra's red snake face symbol, Party's pill symbol., and Jet's blue star symbol. In smaller blue block letters, MCR is written above the letters. Below, in black letters, it reads "THE TRUE LIVES OF THE FABULOUS KILLJOYS" with way too many lines on the E's, little sparkle diamond symbols on either side, a heart over one of the I's and an extra long tail on the final S. Behind the characters are colorful fireworks and at the very top, the names of all the real life people are listed: Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Frank Iero, Grace Jeanette, and Bob Briar. This was drawn on white paper. End ID]

[Image number 2 is just the regular Birds of Prey poster, not redrawn or anything. It's there as visual reference for sighted folks and if you used the first image description, then you've already got all of the necessary information. All of the normal Birds of Prey characters are spread out in the same formation - the only difference is that things are professionally photographed and edited, instead of being hand-drawn by a nineteen year old. End ID]

[twosides--samecoin]

Plz I’m begging, can you give me an enlightenment of what a modern Maccready would wear. I’m dying to style him modernly and have no clue what he’d wear 🙂‍↕️

Hey gamer, thanks for the ask!

RJ grew up in Little Lamplight. The real life version is Luray Caverns, nestled 75 miles away from DC and protected by Shenandoah State Park and George Washington National Forest. I grew up in a town with a teen pregnancy problem where people wore RealTree Camo to prom. I now live a couple hours from Luray, so I feel Modern RJ is someone who I could have gone to high school with.

He grew up country as fuck - there's not an ounce of city slicker in RJ. All the street smarts he has is because he was observant enough to earn them. When he says he's from DC, it's because he knows it's the closest city he grew up near that anyone in Boston's gonna recognize. His fashion can't be bought in Georgetown or the Prudential Center, unless the trend of the day is blue collar chic being sold to the rich.

Modern RJ was the kind of country kid who's teenage uniform was a green flannel and a Master of Puppets Metallica shirt. He was the kind of scrawny where he was 130 pounds soaking wet and 2% body fat and wore the same blue jeans from ages 14 through 17. His second fave shirt featured Iron Maiden's Live After Death.

He cherished them; like many country kids who feel a bit different from their peers, he clung to his band shirts. You wouldn't catch him dead in Carhartt and RealTree unless he literally died while hunting. Not that he wasn't proud of his friends, or ashamed of where he was from - he just dreamed of getting out. Band shirts represented something bigger, a Great Beyond; a world he wanted to travel, a life he was priced out of living as an orphan from Virginia.

Buying clothes is not something RJ enjoys - he's a single dad and feels a level of guilt attached with spending money on himself, knowing how much grocery money would be wasted on a leather jacket and pair of jeans (speaking of groceries, RJ has a family of three to feed - Duncan insisted they keep that damn German Shepherd who followed RJ home from his mechanic shift at the Red Rocket). He's still driving the same red rusted-to-fuck '96 Chevy Silverado that he kissed Lucy in for the first time, the same one that drove them out of Virginia. Maintains it himself since he can get the parts at cost.

Though he's frugal, Modern RJ is picky about his fashion. His closet isn't one that features abundance. His clothing is utilitarian; earth tones in a range of faded browns and greens, duck canvas, twill denims with no stretch. A heavy mechanic jumpsuit for work. The coolest colours he wears are grey thermal shirts and a blue shearling jacket when in colder weather. There's an olive green jacket he likes in the springtime. He prefers a tough, protective pair of leather boots for everyday footwear. For casual shoes; given the choice between Chuck Taylors and Vans, he'd wear whichever was on sale, but preferably the Chucks.

He has a few long sleeve button-downs out of an eye-rolling necessity for job interviews. He hates wearing ties and has never owned a suit. Before she died, Lucy gifted him a brown shearling leather jacket to wear on his motorcycle.

He's most comfortable wearing his old green flannel and band shirts. Otherwise, he can be found wearing a white t-shirt and blue Levi's every now and then - Lucy always liked Bruce Springsteen.

When you grow up can't-rub-two-pennies-together poor, it means you appreciate the material things in a different kind of way. RJ's clothing is all about emotional comfort and memories; he's afraid to let go.

I loved writing this! Thanks for sending me the ask, anon! The people demand my RJ brainrot and I aim to please <3 Thanks again & have a great day :)

BONUS: An outfit mod I am working on for RJ!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

the mother i know

Fandom: DC Comics, Arrowfam

Summary: Roy leaves Lian with Jade for a few weeks while he follows up on a lead for the perfect Mother's Day gift for Jade. What starts as a quest for confirmation, becomes a complicated family situation, and a worrisome reunion.

Jade spends quality time with Lian, but she fears that Roy's hiding something.

Chapters: 3/?

Characters: Roy Harper, Jade Nguyen, Lian Harper, Tommy Blake Jr.

Relationships: CheshRoy

Additional Tags: Complicated Relationships, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Accidental Bonding, Multiple POV, Reunion

Chapter Three: Quesadillas with a Stranger (Roy's POV)

I tried the park once I realized finding him at his school would be like finding a needle in a haystack. So, I spent the afternoon jogging around the perimeter of the park before sitting on a bench in the center of the walkway. I picked the bench facing away from the playground, and at that time, a little boy sat on the bench across from me to tie his shoe. He had a school uniform on and a beanie with iron-on patches around it. 

The little boy looked up at me, staring, and he waved before sitting on the bench across from me. I waved back, tilting my head upwards to enjoy the cool breeze under the warm sun. “Red hair is very rare,” he whispered, “That means there are very few people like you.”

“Yeah… I guess that makes me pretty unique… But I know a few others,” I replied. 

He swung his feet back and forth. “Are you left-handed? I read in an article once that redheads had a higher percentage of left handed people,” he replied. I shook my head. “I can tell you have a child. A girl, right?” 

“I do. How’d you know?” I questioned. 

“You have a handprint t-shirt. Your hands aren’t that small,” he replied, “Does she have red hair?”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Nope. She looks like her mom,” I answered, “Are you waiting for someone?”

“I’m hiding from my nanny,” he confessed, “I’d like to be away from her for a while… But I’ll let her take me home soon.” He smiled at me, his front tooth missing, and his demeanor was peculiar… Almost familiar. I had to take a chance and ask him. 

“Is your name Tommy?” I questioned. 

He scrunched up his nose and squinted at me. “Nobody knows that except my Mama and Papa… I’m not even supposed to know that. They all call me Oakley… But Oakley is a lie,” he replied. I leaned forward. I could tell by the way he spoke, he was extremely intelligent, and he knew something strange was going on.

“Why aren’t you supposed to know your name?” I asked.

“Because they didn’t want me to know I’m adopted… At least I think that’s why. But you know my name. So, you want something? Is it money? Are you going to kidnap me?” he questioned. He wasn’t afraid of what I’d do to him. I thought that was odd. 

“No. I’m not going to kidnap you… Someone already did that five years ago,” I answered. I felt like withholding information from him would’ve been counterintuitive. The kid was definitely smart enough to be talked to in a straightforward manner. I wasn’t going to waste time splitting hairs. 

“Do you know my birth mommy?” he questioned. Mommy. He was smart, but he was still a little boy. I had to remember that when I spoke. I wouldn’t dumb things down, but I had to be gentler. 

“I do… You were taken from her when you were a baby, and she thought you were gone forever. I got a tip that you were alive, but I wasn’t sure it was you… How did you know you were adopted?” I asked in reply. He stood up and took my hand. 

“We have to go… My nanny will be here soon, and she won’t like that I’m talking to you. I’ll get in trouble,” he explained. I nodded and let him lead the way. “I heard the grownups whispering at night time once. I got in trouble at school earlier that day, and Papa was upset. He said that they never should’ve taken me. Mama said, ‘Tommy is a good boy. He’s just not being challenged.’ She called me Tommy, and Papa shushed her. He told her I might hear them. 

“I heard him walking, so I hid under the stairs, and he shut the door, but I could still hear them. Papa said I’d be a killer just like my parents... Are my parents killers?” he questioned.

“I—. What should I call you? Oakley or Tommy?” I replied to dodge the question.

“Oakley is a lie. My name is Tommy…  Are they bad people?” Tommy asked. He had the same serious look in his eyes that Jade got when she needed me. Most people would mistake that look for rage, but I knew better. 

I swallowed hard. “Your mommy is someone I care about very much. I’m not your dad, but I’m your sister’s father. I promise I won’t lie to you. I don’t think your mommy is a bad person, but she’s had to do bad things before,” I answered. He squeezed my hand. 

“Show me a picture of her. I want to be sure,” Tommy whispered. He kept pulling me along, so I figured he wanted me to multitask. I pulled up a picture that Lian sent of her and Jade in matching makeup. 

“That’s your sister, Lian… And that’s your mommy—.”

“Jade,” Tommy interrupted. I stopped in my tracks.

“I never said her name. How do you know her name?” I whispered. Tommy pulled my arm. 

“Come on, Mister. I’ll tell you when we get there. Hurry up,” Tommy groaned as he dragged me further down the street. 

He took me down an alley, across the street, and in front of a restaurant. “Could I have a quesadilla and a chocolate milk?” Tommy asked. 

“A quesadilla and a chocolate milk? And then you’ll answer my question?” I asked. Tommy squeezed my hand and smiled at me. “Tommy, I’ll get you whatever you want to eat, but I need you to promise to answer my questions. Okay?”

“I promise,” Tommy whispered. 

I held his hand a little tighter as I ordered his food and mine. Tommy stood on his tiptoes. “Tommy, are the quesadillas good?” I asked. 

“Uh-huh. When grown-ups order it, they get spanish rice, too,” Tommy answered. 

“Hm… Okay. I’ll get that, then,” I replied. 

We sat down at a table in the back, and he opened his backpack and removed an old stuffed black cat plushie. It was worn and faded brown in some places, but its collar was shiny and expensive. He opened the bell part of the collar before unfolding a little photograph of Jade holding him up. His little chubby face toward the camera. I turned the photo over, and it read in Jade’s perfect handwriting, “To my newest love, Tommy Jr. Forever and always, your mommy, Jade.” He quickly took it back and returned it to the bell. He wouldn’t look me in the eye as he packed it away. 

“If you tell someone, they’ll take it from me. Please don’t tell,” Tommy pleaded. His whole demeanor changed. His face reddened and his hands tightened around his backpack. 

“I won’t let them take it… Tommy, I don’t know what to do with you. You belong with your mom, Jade, but these people—.”

“They don’t want me anymore. You can ask them. They’ll give me to you,” Tommy whispered as tears slid down his cheeks. My heart hurt looking at him. He stood up and climbed into my lap, and I wiped his tears with my thumbs before pulling him into a hug. 

No kid should ever feel that way. “Tommy, why would you say that?” I asked. 

“It’s true. Papa said I’d be a killer. He wants me far away. He doesn’t love me anymore,” Tommy cried. I rubbed his back. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. I—.” They called our order, and I carried him on my hip while I got our tray. “Hey, I’m gonna try to work things out. But, I want you to eat your quesadilla first. Eat your food and drink your milk. It’ll help you calm down if you have a little bit of food in your stomach.” 

He obeyed, eating quietly while I thought about what I’d do. I thought about talking to them, trying to reason with them as best I could. “I don’t think you’ll like me anymore if I tell you why I got in trouble at school… I want you to like me, but I know you’ll find out about it if I don’t—.” 

“Tommy, everybody does bad things sometimes. If you feel bad enough about it to want to do better next time, I think you’ll be fine. Maybe if you tell me about it, you’ll feel better. It doesn’t have to be a scary secret,” I reassured him, “It doesn’t have to be a secret at all… Like… Hm… I curse when I get angry sometimes. I know I shouldn’t, but sometimes I do. It’s not a secret and no one hates me for it.” 

Tommy nodded and sighed after he finished chewing. “Michael hit Emilia at recess And I didn’t—. I didn’t stop him. I was so scared that I had to go home. Mama was upset because I wouldn’t tell her why I had—... 

“I went back to school and drew a picture of him. That’s when I got in trouble. I only drew it because he did something bad and someone needed to punish him. Emilia was bleeding, but I was so scared. I did something wrong, too. I didn’t tell on him… And I drew a bad picture. I—. The principal asked why I drew something like that, and I was too scared to tell her. I thought Michael would hit me, too. 

“Papa was so angry. He grabbed my arms and yelled at me. He shook me and told me to tell him why I would draw something so terrible. I couldn’t tell him. I wanted to, but I was scared, and he was hurting me… He sent me to my room, and I—. Do I have to tell you everything?” Tommy asked. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and rosy cheeks, and I shook my head.

“You don’t have to tell me all of it… Just the parts that feel okay to talk about,” I replied. He took a shaky breath.

“That’s when I woke up to talk to Papa. I wanted to apologize, but he was talking to Mama. He was still so mad. So, I waited until they went to bed, and I cleaned up all by myself. I didn’t want to make him angrier. He’d never been mad at me before. Now, he’s mad at me all the time,” Tommy whimpered. I reached across the table with an open palm, and he held my fingers. “He makes me carry the picture to remind me that I’ve been bad. He’s going to make me carry it until I apologize to Michael or tell him why I did it.” He let go of my hand to reach into his bag again, and he pulled a piece of paper out of his binder. I took it and frowned. It was a drawing of Michael and he’d used red crayon to scribble blood all over him. He’d even drawn purple circles on him for bruises. 

I frowned. “You drew it to punish Michael?” I asked. 

“I wouldn’t really hurt Michael. I just wanted to make him feel bad for hurting Emilia. Her lip was bleeding, and she was crying… Our art teacher says drawings are supposed to help people feel better,” Tommy explained. 

I nodded. “Did it make you feel better to draw this?” I asked. 

“No… I thought it would, but I feel bad all the time now… Mister, my tummy hurts now. Can I sit with you?” Tommy asked. I nodded and smiled at him, turning the picture face down before picking him up and sitting him on my knee. I finished eating and zipped up his backpack before resting my chin on his head. I felt like I was talking to Jade, and it broke my heart. Maybe I was making her carry around memories of the worst things she’d ever done. Maybe I punished her for things I couldn’t understand. “You don’t like me anymore… Do you?”

“I still like you, Tommy. I do… I understand why you did it. I understand you were scared, and you just wanted to fix things in the only way you knew how. You aren’t a bad kid. I’m so sorry that you were made to feel like you were bad because of this,” I apologized. He wrapped his arms around my neck, and I could feel his tears hit the back of my shirt.

[lisacameron99]

Run - B.B. — part one

Warnings: end of the world talk, on the run, nomad life, little girl, angst, talks of shield taking over, slow burn (will eventually get together but not in this chapter)

“We need to go.” Those four words stopped you cold.

It wasn’t often that Bucky demanded you to do something, or Steve or Sam for that matter. So when the boys told you we need to go, you didn’t think twice.

You had a go bag, two sets of clothes. Consisted of underwear, a long sleeve shirt, a T-shirt, jeans, and socks. A pair of tennis shoes. A pack of unworn underwear. A pack of warm socks. A cargo jacket. A few sports bras. $200 in cash. A few blankets and pillows that could pack down. A knife. And a pocket knife. You’d need both.

You made sure you had toiletries - 5 toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo and conditioner mix, pads and tampons, a brush and ponytails. A pair of scissors.

Sam did the food. He had prepackaged and canned stuff in a bag. He had very few momentos, but he had pictures of his family. He also had his weapon of choice. Steve had more cash, you weren’t sure how much or where he got it from, but you didn’t question it. Plus some practical gear and weapons. For everybody.

Then - there was Bucky. Bucky had the most random shit. Basically the same as Steve with gear and weapons, just more intense than you would’ve thought. And his cat, Alpine, with all her stuff. Bowl, food, blanket, leash, and her favorite stuffy. Bucky loved that cat more than anybody and anything else.

“Okay, you got everything?” Bucky said coming into the small bedroom as you shouldered your back pack and small bag.

“Yes, but I just realized we don’t have any fire starters. There’s some by the fire place. Grab however many I have. I have a lighter in the bathroom and I think Sam said he has matches.”

“Okay, good call. We’re going to hit a gas station once we’re out.” Bucky told you.

“Okay,” you glanced around the small room. You grabbed your own favorite stuffy, and hugged it tightly before shoving it into your bag. Steve and Bucky had given it to you for your third birthday. You’d had it ever since. You weren’t about to go without now. “Alright, let’s go.”

About halfway out of New York, you realized you were being followed. You told Bucky, who was driving.

“Which vehicle?” Bucky said, eyeing the review mirror.

“The black SVU. Looks like it’s probably a cop - ” the sirens turned on and everybody cursed.

“I’m going to try to lose them.” Bucky sped up the car and you gripped Alpine and he zipped through traffic. But - given that 90 percent of the world didn’t know that there was a corrupt set of people trying to take over, they all pulled over for the cop. You all god down when you heard the first shots. Bucky managed to avoid the car getting hit and took the exit onto I-76 and floored it. Steve opened the back window and shot at the car, hitting one of the tires, Thank God for traffic and people being asshole drivers, Bucky managed to lose them on the way to Pittsburg after hitting the tire.

“We need to split up.” Bucky said, “Two and two.”

“I’m not going anywhere with out you.” You told Bucky definitely. He sighed. He knew you were going to do this, but he also knew he had the biggest target on his back.

“Doll…” he trailed off. But he knew it was no use.

“Bucky, I’m not going anywhere without you. So if we’re splitting up, you’re taking me with you.” He pulled into a deserted gas station and parked the car.

“Okay, let’s think this through.” Steve piped up. “If we split up, we might be safer. But we all know we’re stronger together, so for now, let’s keep going until we can hit Montana.”

“Montana?” You asked, confused.

“Montana has a lot of remote areas. We can lay low for a while.” Bucky responded.

Sam took his turn to explain when you still looked confused. “They’re expecting us to go to DC or even further south, we need to hit Montana and regroup. We can’t do that if we head south.”

“And we need to regroup with Nat, Tony, Wanda, Rhodey, and Vision. And hopefully everybody else. I sent word to Scott, and Tony sent word to the Galaxy. Mid point for everybody is Montana.”

“We need gas.” Bucky turned the vehicle off. “I feel like we should take that truck from over there.”

“The truck has better mileage and it probably more durable.” Steve agreed.

“Okay, so I have to pee.” You said, getting out. “Sam, cover me and then we’ll hit the store. Let’s not dig into our food unless we have to.” The gas station was abandoned, thank God. You did your business and Sam did his before you both walked into the station.

“I’m checking out the beverages. Maybe we can snag some water.” You told Sam, quickly going back by the coolers.

“I’ll hit up dry goods.”

You heard a noise and quickly put your hand on your knife as you whirled around. But instead of finding somebody from Hydra like you expected, you found a little girl. She couldn’t have been more than three years old. She was in tattered clothes and her hair was a mess.

“Oh my God. Sam!” You yelled to him. The little girl whimpered. “Oh sweetheart, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You knelt in front of her. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

“What? What’s wrong? Oh.” Sam spotted the little girl and also knelt down, right next to you.

“Hi, sweet girl, I’m Sam.”

“Bella.” She croaked out. She hugged her stuffed animal closer to her, as well as a small blanket and cried.

“Her parents must’ve…” you couldn’t get yourself to say the words. Thankfully, Sam knew what you were thinking, as he was thinking the same.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“Bella, do you want to come with us? We’re going to go on a long drive.” You asked the little girl, reaching a hand out to her. She looked you, eyes wide. Yes, this would work.

“I come?” She asked, tears still rolling down her face.

“Yes, you’ll come with us.”

“I come.” Instead of a question, it was a statement.

“Okay, we have some stuff to take out.” Sam told her, picking up the bags and water you guys had found.

“Up.” She looked expectantly at you.

You reached down and put her on your hip. “There we go.” You glanced around one last time before heading outside, back to Steve and Bucky.

Oh would your boys be in for a treat, you thought to yourself.

“I’m not leaving her.” You argued with Bucky, looking back at the truck and seeing Bella, resting against the make shift car seat Sam had made her.

“We can’t take her with!” Bucky scolded.

“Like Tony and Pepper aren’t bringing Morgan.” You countered, eyes blazing with anger.

“That’s different!”

“It is not! She’s just a little girl Buck. She can’t be more than three. Either she comes with, our I stay back with her. Your choice.” You didn’t leave Bucky any room to debate. You knew he wouldn’t leave you behind. He never could before, he wasn’t about to start now.

“Kitty!” She squealed when she saw Alpine for the first time. You knew that in that moment, Bucky was sold.

“Her name is Alpline.” You told her, sliding into the back seat with her, Bucky on her other side.

“Alpie.” She giggled and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw the two fall in love. About ten minutes into the drive, Alpine and Bella were fast asleep.

“Bucky,” you whispered.

“What?” He had his metal arm against the door, face clenched.

“We couldn’t leave her there.” You looked down at the little girl who was sleeping against Bucky’s flesh arm.

“I know that, but it’s one more thing for all of us to worry about.”

“Well, if it means she’ll be safe; I’m okay with all of us worrying about her.”

Bucky nodded, but didn’t say anything further. You drifted off next to Bella, head on the window and you holding her hand tightly. It would be okay.

End.

[obxsummer]

Pleaaaaaase post the next part!!!!

a lil snippet for you to keep you waiting 🤭

Walking slowly down the hallway, you came to the foyer area where you could hear whispers from the kitchen filtering through. Moving into Sarah’s room, you glanced around for something, anything, that would help you get out of here without any suspicion. 

“Go get her. They’ll be here soon and I need to make sure she’s not going to run her mouth.”

“Dad, she’s going to-”

“Now, Rafe.”

You held your breath as Rafe mumbled an agreement and the sound of his footsteps echoed through the open room as he ascended the stairs. You needed to move, and move fast. Rafe cursed down the hall, likely figuring out that the door was unlocked and you clutched the butter knife tighter in your hand like it would offer any protection.

Ducking into Sarah’s walk-in closet, you scrambled to find an old phone or even her laptop if she’d left it behind but came up empty. “Shit,” You whispered to yourself and bent down to pull on a pair of her gym shoes since yours had been destroyed from years of wear. If nothing else, you needed to prepare to run. 

Grabbing a black hoodie from her shelves, you slipped it on over your t-shirt and pulled the hood up to keep your face hidden as much as possible. You would only have one shot at this, and you needed to make it count. 

Moving slowly toward Sarah’s bedroom door, you waited to see if you could hear Rafe’s presence down the hall but silence followed. The doorbell rang, Ward yelling out for his son in hopes that he would bring you down but Rafe didn’t answer.

“Hi, I’m Rebecca Sinclair with DCS. I’m presuming you’re Mr. Cameron.” 

Risking the step into the open, you walked out of Sarah’s room and kept your body pressed against the wall so you would be out of view for Ward and the DCS rep but could see their conversation.

“That would be me. Come in, can I get you something to drink?”

Rebecca shook her head. “This should be fairly quick. Where is Miss Routledge? I have to do an individual check in with her and then one with you as the legal guardian.”

“Let me go see where she’s at. She’s been having a really hard time with the loss of her brother and my daughter. They were such good friends, and-”

“Miss Routledge, please, Mr. Cameron.”

You took the chance to step forward into view, your mouth opening to yell out before someone’s hand clamped over your face and an arm yanked you back from view.

[domquixotedospobresblog]

I think a lot about everything I'm going to leave behind. Who's going to want to keep my stuff, my Marvel and DC Comics t-shirts, my All Star shoes, my miniatures that already take up almost the entire house? Or will they throw them all away or simply abandon them in boxes somewhere gathering dust? No one's going to throw away my vinyl records, I hope not. There's so much good music. I remember my first one, it was a Manhattans LP with every song awesome, pure swing. Shining Star set the rhythm. Then came Carly Simon, Carole King and Van Morrison. But will anyone really want them? I think they'll sell them or donate them just to free up space. My school medals will definitely stay in the drawer and will only come out to show visitors and tell them how much I deserved each victory, for being a very studious and obstinate guy. My photographs will have many candidates to share. Everyone will want to have one of me smiling, a smile that haunted my face almost twenty-four hours a day. Many told me That I smiled even when I was sleeping, and my little poetry notebooks, those will be forgotten, maybe they will never be read except by me who wrote them, I hope someone reads them during the mourning period, someone who is very astute, so they will realize that I have a special poem for each one of them, each family member inspired me at some point in my life, and that these poems are not simple things of love and passion, they are things that they made come out of the bottom of my heart, but I am not dead yet, I will put a notice inside the drawer where the poems are, "read each verse very carefully in my farewell, so each one of you will know what place you occupied in my life", I have sweets in my drawers too, oh no one will inherit those, I will eat them all, I do not want to be responsible for someone in the family getting fat, I think that is all, I did not have much time to collect valuable things, I spent a lot of time making love, the most important thing I have already left for each one while still alive, my knowledge.

Jonas r Cezar

[hermitcraft-8]

Deiforms, Chapter One: The End of All Things (Part One)

masterpost

“All roads lead to Rome” is a stupid phrase. All roads don’t lead to Rome. In fact, very few roads do lead to Rome these days, only five major ones, which is about the same amount that leads to your average shopping mall.

To be honest, there���s more roads leading to Rome, West Virginia, and that’s not saying much.

There’s the main road, of course, a highway that rolled through the middle of the town, which carried most of the passerby through, on their way to Charleston, or DC, or further. There's Church Road, which is more of a street than a road, and Penelope Street, which is more of a road than a street. There’s also a good few other roads, smaller, coming through Altus or Snyder, that carry locals and people who know the area.

In total, there's seven roads that go through Rome, West Virginia, which is two more than the amount of roads that go through Rome, Italy.

It was on one of these roads that Sean O'Lainey crashed his car into a mailbox, late one September night, although he didn’t stop until he reached town.

This was for two reasons- first, he knew who owned the mailbox he’d just bowled over, and knew that his consequences would not be particularly merciful. Secondly, and more predominantly, because he was drunk, and a little sleep deprived, and really shouldn’t have been driving at all. He neither thought to pull over or think to check on the mailbox until he was long out of sight.

But once he was stopped, he stopped for real, stumbling out of the car and sitting on the sidewalk, staring up at the neon light for the local diner- the only one in town. After a few deep, shaky breaths, he fished his phone out of his pocket, squinting at the screen for a few good minutes, before finding what he needed.

The phone rang for only a few moments, before, with a click, it stopped.

Neither spoke for a moment, before Sean remembered who he was talking to, before he remembered that he would have to be the first to talk, and sighed. “Hey bro. How much to convince you to pick me up?”

“Twenty. You at the party still?” The voice, a dry, hoarse, smoker’s voice came through, the faint sound of keys being grabbed in the background.

“Nah, I left, I’m at Frost’s.”

“How the hell’d you get from Jean-Paul’s to Frost’s?”

“Drove.”

“You drove?!” There was a long, fruitful pause, before a huff. “Did you wreck your car?”

“No,” Sean said, before pausing, thinking, and shaking his head hard. “I ran over the Robyn family.”

“What?”

“Not the family. Their mailbox. I don’t know why I said the family,” He thought. “I’m kind of drunk.”

“Man, you’re a lightweight. I’ll be there in ten. You gonna need to pick up your car tomorrow?”

“We have school, don’t we?”

“It’s a Sunday.”

“So…?”

A sort of huffed laugh, and the sound of an engine starting. “No, Sean, we don’t have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, then, no.”

“Yes, you do, or it’ll get towed.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Bitch.”

The line went dead.

Sean stood up, stretching his arms over his head. The air was finally starting to cool off, and the hem of his t-shirt wasn’t quite enough to cover his stomach. He shuddered and lowered his arms.

Sean was, to put it simply, an odd looking young man. He was tall, easily six foot, and lanky, with pale pale skin and a buzzed head of bleach fried hair. His eyes were mismatched, one pupil perpetually dilated and surrounded by pale blue, the other surrounded by dark brown. His skin was covered in freckles, his face full of piercings. His clothes were all the wrong size, his shoes held together with duct tape. He looked like a Frankenstein’s monster of a man, all the wrong bits in the wrong places, but the result was very nearly a positive one.

A car pulled up.

Unlike Sean’s rattly old pickup truck, this one was a good deal newer, and in a much better condition. Some would even call it a nice car.

The passenger side window shuddered down, and Sean stumbled over, leaning his head in.

“Hey cutie. Need a ride?”

“I’m not supposed to get in strangers' cars,” Sean fired back, but reached through the window to unlock the door, climbing into the familiar car that he’d been climbing into for the past two years without a hesitation. “Sorry for waking you up.”

“You didn’t wake me up,” Ash Costello lied. “You feel alright?”

Sean shrugged, letting his head roll to the side while he gazed at his best friend.

He was short, and stout, with a mohawk of curls that were ever so slightly longer in the back than the top. His face was permanently scrunched in a scowl, almost a look of disgust. He had the saddest little goatee in an attempt to make his baby face any less of a baby face, and it didn’t quite work. The braces didn’t help.

“You smell like shit,” He said, finally, glancing at the rearview mirror. “Did someone throw up on you?”

“No,” Sean grumbled. “But your cousin tried.”

“Kyrie?” Ash sounded nearly surprised. “Kyrie went to a party?”

“Yeah, and got drunk off his tits,” Sean picked at his cargo pants. “Think Lori drove him home.”

“Hm.”

Sean stared out the windshield. “Are you mad?”

“Mad at Kyrie? Why would I be, he’s 18, he’s a big boy-”

“Mad at me.”

The car was silent.

Sean groaned, letting his head hit the window with a hollow thunk.

This was a song and dance they’d done nearly every weekend for two years, up until about a month ago, when Sean had finally gotten his own truck. They both thought that would be it- the end of Sean’s pathetic dependence, the end of Ash having to haul his friend home.

“Why didn’t you call my sister?” Ash finally asked.

“What?” Sean scowled. “Why would I-?”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“And you’re my best friend-”

“You don’t get it, do you,” Ash snapped, suddenly, stopping at a stop sign and twisting to look at Sean, look him in the eye. “She’s your girlfriend. You’re supposed to be her problem.”

Sean blinked at him, stupidly, before the words registered, and he clenched his jaw. “Yeah, well. Well… well-!”

Ash exhaled, hard, turning back to the road. “I didn’t mean… I don’t know, you’ve been avoiding me for this whole time-”

“-Have not-”

“You ditched me at lunch, Sean,” Ash cut him off. “You sit with her, and Dean, and that Robyn girl-”

“-Lillian, she’s actually really nice-”

“Sean.”

“Ash,” Sean whined. “I didn’t mean to ditch you, I just… you and Miki and Lori… you’re cool, but you guys are… you’re just…”

“Not cool?”

“No, you’re-”

“-No, no, I get it,” Ash said, firmly, pulling up in front of Sean’s house- not going up the driveway, just stopping at the mailbox. “Don’t worry about it.”

“...Would you rather I had called Madi?”

Ash stared out the windshield for a moment, before sighing, looking around, eyes finally landing on Sean. “No. Maybe, I don’t know.”

Sean hissed out a breath through crooked teeth. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Monday.”

“Whenever.”

And he got out.

Neither said goodbye. Neither said I love you. Neither said anything they’d always said. Ash drove away and Sean walked up his driveway, and neither of them slept well that night.

And somewhere in the world, an abacus clicked.

[late-to-the-party-81]

I've always wanted you [but not like this]

AN: Here’s a dark, angsty piece for you. Please read the CW - Steve is not nice in this.

Thanks to @buckyismyconstant for beta-ing. Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

This fic fills the following Bingo squares

@stuckybingo B5: Hate Sex

@steverogersbingo E3: Came Back Wrong

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master list | SRB Master list

Join my tag list here.

Summary: When Steve reappeared on the platform Bucky knew something was wrong, he just didn’t realise how wrong at first.

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: Not Endgame Compliant, Dark Steve Rogers, Unrequited love, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Dub Con bordering on Non Con, Precum as lube, Spit as lube, Anal sex, Degradation, Humiliation, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky, Low Self-esteem, No aftercare, gaslighting, Internalised homophobia.

Bucky knew something was wrong as soon as Steve walked off the platform, because Steve hadn’t been planning on coming back at all — he’d told Bucky as much before he’d suited up to return the stones. It had broken Bucky’s heart to hear that his best friend was leaving him behind to have a life with Peggy, but if it was what Steve wanted, then he’d do his best to support him. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Bucky was madly in love with him and that Steve only saw him as a brother; it had been like that their whole lives. Why would it change now?

“Aren’t you glad to see me, Buck?” Steve said as he stepped down and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Bucky could only manage to gape like a fish, his mouth opening and closing silently twice as he tried to process everything. What had happened?

To everyone else, all seemed normal. Now that Thanos was defeated, the Snap reversed and the stones returned, it was time to properly move on, but Bucky just felt as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Pepper organised the rebuilding of the compound — Shield and the Avengers needed a base after all — and that’s where Bucky found himself living. He didn’t really have another choice. Sam stayed there when he wasn’t in DC and Bruce visited from time to time, so it was mainly just him in the personal quarters in the evening. Or rather, him and Steve. Apparently he had nowhere else to go either. With the original tenant of his apartment returning after the Blip, and Steve himself not planning on returning from the 1940s, he was left in the same situation as Bucky.

So it was just the two of them, like a strange reflection of the past. Similar, but different. Steve and Bucky. Bucky and Steve. Steve, who seemed to be invading Bucky’s personal space more than he used to. Steve, who now seemed to maintain eye contact just that little bit longer than was comfortable. 

Was Bucky imagining it? Or had something changed? That small, unextinguishable, hopeful part of him wanted that to be true. 

If Bucky’s tongue poked out of his mouth to moisten his lips, Steve was watching. If he was coming out of the shower in just his towel, Steve was watching. However, why did something that he’d wanted for so long feel so wrong? Why did every hand brushing over his hip and waist in a confined space send an unwelcomed kind of shiver down his spine? 

He’d tried to ask Steve about his change of plans on a couple of occasions, but his friend had just deflected, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You mean you’re not glad to have me here, Buck? And here I was thinking you couldn’t live without me.”

Eventually, Bucky gave up asking. Steve would tell him if he wanted to and in his own time. And Bucky had his own things going on. Therapy for one. Learning to live free in the world  with all the knowledge of what he’d done when he’d been under Hydra’s control was not easy.

A quiet night. Dark and relatively peaceful. 

Bucky padded into his room and pulled his t-shirt over his head, ready to start preparing for bed. However, no sooner had the soft cotton cleared his face, Bucky realised he wasn’t alone. He threw the clothing to the ground and prepared himself for an attack.

It never came.

But what did come was a voice.

“Why’d you stop, Buck?”

Bucky peered into the darkness, towards the sound. Steve must be sitting in the easy chair.

“Steve? What are you doing in here?”

The chair creaked and Bucky could hear Steve’s soft footsteps as he traversed the carpeted floor. Bucky watched as Steve appeared out of the darkness, the soft glow from the living room shining through the partially open bedroom door and illuminating the planes of his face. He looked dark and sinister yet still oh-so-beautiful.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, Bucky. Take it off. Take it all off. I wanna see. And I know you wanna show me.” Steve’s voice was low. Sultry. And despite the confusion swirling in Bucky’s mind, his dick was definitely interested in what was happening.

Their eyes locked, each searching the other’s expression until Steve’s nostrils flared and without warning he was pushing Bucky up against his bedroom wall with a hand around his throat.

The air was driven from Bucky’s lungs, but luckily the grip of his neck wasn’t so tight that he couldn’t draw another in. Steve’s free hand was suddenly pulling at Bucky’s sweats, tugging at them and yanking them off his hips.

“I said, take them off. I know you’re not stupid, Bucky.”

Thinking back on it all later, Bucky could easily have fought back — could easily have gotten away — but for some reason he didn’t. His hands trembled as he pushed his pants all the way down his thighs, kicking them off his ankles, stripping for the man he loved, even if the Steve in front of him bore little resemblance to the Steve of Bucky’s memories.

Steve leaned in close, turning Bucky’s head to the side, nosing at his throat and inhaling before he suddenly bit down on the juncture of Bucky’s neck and left shoulder over the scarring that marked his skin. 

Bucky screamed but his cock jumped in his shorts, and it was over as quickly as it had happened as Steve pulled back and turned Bucky’s head back to face him.

“I know you want me, Buck. You’ve always wanted me. I have eyes. But something… I don’t know… I never wanted you like this before, but now I do.”

Bucky looked at Steve with wide eyes, ice meeting ocean, and then his world was spinning as Steve quickly turned him, pressed him into the wall.

“What have you done to me, Buck? You’ve hypnotised me. I saw Peggy, almost walked up to her, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave you. And when I stepped back off that pad and saw you, it was like a slap to the face.” Steve pressed his body— still clothed— against Bucky’s naked back, and Bucky couldn’t hold back a whimper.

This was all wrong, but it was everything he’d ever wanted.

“Steve?” He didn’t even know what he was pleading for.

“Shh-shh. Don’t say anything. I need you to be quiet. Because I don’t want this, but at the same time I feel that if I don’t, I’ll never have a moment’s peace again. I need to own you. Mark you.”

There was venom in his voice, an undercurrent of loathing, and Bucky didn’t know if Steve was aiming it at him or himself.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Stevie.”

“Shut up!” Steve’s roar came with a spray of saliva. A roar of anguish. “You don’t get to say anything.” Steve kicked Bucky’s ankles apart. Bucky didn’t stop him. “I could have had a life. The life I wanted. A wife. Kids. The whole nine yards. But you…” His hand twisted in the fabric of Bucky’ shorts and ripped them from his body. “You couldn’t leave me alone. Wouldn’t get out of my head.”

Having thrown the now scrap of fabric to the floor, Steve’s hand came back around Bucky’s body, pushing between him and the wall, until Steve was able to cup Bucky’s cock in his hand. Bucky bit his lip, swallowing the moan that came unbidden and clenched his eyes shut. His cock was throbbing. Dripping. He felt so ashamed.

“I should have known it,” Steve drawled as his hand pumped Bucky’s cock. “It doesn’t even matter if I hate you. If I’m cruel to you. As long as I do something to you, you’ll nod, say thank you and ask for more. You’re pathetic, Buck. Just a cock hungry slut.”

When precome spurted from the tip into Steve’s hand, he just chuckled. “I wonder how cruel I can get away with being?” He let go of Bucky’s cock then, his hand moving back to land between Bucky’s ass cheeks, smearing the sticky pre-come over his hole. Then Steve pressed one of his fingers all the way inside him and Bucky bit back a yelp. There was nothing he could do about the few tears that ran down his cheeks. He hoped Steve couldn’t see them.

“You can take this, can’t you, pal? Survived a lot worse, I bet…”

“Don’t…” Bucky whispered. 

“Don’t,” Steve parrotted, his voice full of condescension. “This is a mess of your own making and now you just have to own it.” With a loud hocking noise, Steve spat out a gob of saliva. It landed right on Bucky’s crack and dribbled down to where he was skewered on Steve’s finger. “There we go. I don’t wanna hurt my fingers on your tight little hole there, do I?” 

When Steve added a second finger, Bucky couldn’t hold back the squeak he made. It burned. It hurt. But it didn’t hurt as much as the humiliation. As the shame that he was letting Steve do this. That he wanted Steve — loved Steve — so much, that he was willing to accept this poisoned crumb.

Another gob of spit and Steve forced in a third finger, sawing and scissoring them. Much to Bucky’s embarrassment his cock continued to dribble and his hips started to jerk. When Steve let go of the back of his neck to unfasten his fly, Bucky just waited, breath baited. When Steve took that last step forward, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing up against the back of Bucky’s bare legs, Bucky screwed his eyes even further shut. Steve unceremoniously pulled his fingers from the clutch of Bucky’s body, wiping his fingers down Bucky’s naked thigh, and then he was pushing his cock forwards, forcing it in. Carving a space.

The fingers of Bucky’s left hand whirred, digging into the plaster and concrete of the wall in front of him as he howled. Why couldn’t this be different? Why couldn’t it be happening with love and care? He’d thought the intrusion of Steve’s fingers had been painful, but this was on a whole other level. Steve’s hands curled cruelly into his hips, driving home and he growled as he bottomed out.

“This is what you wanted,” Steve taunted in Bucky’s ear. “What you’ve always wanted. Me taking you. Filling you. And despite everything, you like this, don’t you?”

Bucky bit his lip until he tasted copper and shook his head, but Steve wasn’t having it. Letting go of Bucky’s right hip, he wrapped his fingers in Bucky’s long hair and pulled, forcing Bucky’s head backwards. “Answer me, damn it.”

“Not like this. Never like this.” Bucky’s voice was full of pain and betrayal, but Steve just let go of his hair and pressed his face back into the wall.

“Shut up,” he growled and then he snapped his hips. Again and again. Over and over. Spearing Bucky and driving pathetic whimpers from between his lips.

And Bucky wanted to hate it. Wanted to shut down or fight back, or just something. But he was so broken, so bereft, that he just allowed it. Took it. Started to enjoy it. Steve holding him in an iron grip he could pretend was more loving than it was. Steve filling him so fully he thought he’d burst. The brush of Steve’s cock over his prostate, thrust after thrust after thrust. The way his own cock was wedged between his body and wall, being stimulated in a painful way.

The trickle of tears down Bucky’s cheeks became a flood and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I love you, Stevie,” he cried, only for Steve to respond with “And I hate you.”

The pain in his chest was shattering, a hundred times worse than what he’d felt when he thought Steve was leaving him, but despite it all, there was no stopping the inevitable.

Bucky came with a wail, the wall crumbling beneath his fingers as he painted another part of it with his cum. Steve puffed and grunted heavily in his ear before tensing up and pouring himself into Bucky with a shout.

For a few seconds the only sound was the pair of them breathing heavily before Steve was suddenly and quickly moving away, pulling himself from Bucky’s body and letting him go. Bucky’s legs shook and he slid down the wall, smearing his body with concrete dust and his own cum.

He heard the shnick of Steve’s fly and the jingle of his belt. “Clean yourself up, Buck. You’re disgusting,” came Steve’s sneer and then he was stepping around the Bucky-shaped heap on the floor, closing the door heavily behind him.

Bucky lay in the dark. Cold. Broken. Wondering what’d he do when he saw Steve tomorrow.

He had a sinking feeling he’d let Steve do that all over again.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @km-ffluv

[jagged1]

Show Me What You Got 2/?

Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: Teen Characters: Peter Hale / Stiles Stilinski, Erica Reyes. Minor appearances from Vernon Boyd, Lydia Martin Summary: Erica cackles delightedly. “Oh, Bruce,” she flutters her eyelashes. “I can’t wait to see what surprises you have hidden away for me.” Contains: Neckz and Throats AU Word Count: ~1350 AO3 Link

Stiles gets shuffled along to makeup and wardrobe. The plain dark t-shirt he was wearing wasn’t bad, per se, but for a first shoot, they’re going to want more from him to entice the viewers. The shirt is changed out for a dark red button up and black skinny tie. They have him leave the topmost button undone and tie a loose four in hand so the knot sits just under the open collar. The sleeves are buttoned properly for now, but he knows that’ll change once they get started. They let him keep his dark gray jeans, but switch his shoes for heavy black boots.

As for the makeup, there’s not too much for them to do. Lydia has repeatedly told him she envies his clear skin, but they still need to powder and color his face so the lights don’t wash him out. He is pleasantly surprised when they don’t cover up all his moles.

Erica, the makeup artist, must smell it on him. “They’re cute. Makes me want to lick you and see where else they might be.” She eyes him appreciatively, her tongue running over her top teeth before she continues. “If there’s a nice spot where I can take a bite.” A flash of golden eyes and fangs punctuates her sentence.

He gives her a flirty smile in return. “If it’s for some no strings fun, let’s talk about it a little more first.” He winks. “Gorgeous gal like you? Can’t imagine you don’t already have someone in your life. I’d hate to mess with that but I might open to getting in the middle of it.” He waggles his eyebrows to lighten the mood.

Erica must appreciate it, because she bursts out laughing. “I like you! You’re right, my boo, Boyd, wouldn’t like a random stranger, but he’ll make exceptions for a friend. He actually works here too. He’s the lighting assistant, so you’ll see him when you get out there. I’ll introduce you.”

Stiles laughs, bright and loud. “We’re already into the friends phase? Not turning you down or anything, but this seems fast.”

Her grin is wide and mischievous, something Stiles can appreciate. “Lydia might have already mentioned you a few times, and I like what I hear.” She boops the tip of his nose with her powder brush. “Plus, you really are a cutie; I wouldn’t say no to seeing more of you.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“Whichever. Gimme your phone, I’ll add my number.” He barely has his phone unlocked and open to his contacts before she swipes it from him and enters her information. She pauses over the name line for a moment before glancing up and giving him a scrutinizing look. “Lydia called you a comic geek. Favorite hero?”

He raises an eyebrow at the question. “Are we gonna have that debate now? That’s a fast track to friendship destruction, not solidification.”

“I didn’t ask DC or Marvel, but the answer is obviously DC,” she replies with another flash of fang. This time she also extends her claws and taps the screen of his phone carefully with them.

His eyes catch on the claws and before he knows it he’s answering with a flirty wink. “Then you’ll be happy to hear it’s Batman, my lovely Catwoman.”

Erica cackles delightedly. “Oh, Bruce,” she flutters her eyelashes. “I can’t wait to see what surprises you have hidden away for me.” She gleefully enters Catwoman as her name and returns his phone. Just as she's about to say something, she stops and tilts her head, probably listening to something Stiles can't hear. After a moment, she pouts. “Apparently I'm no longer allowed to ‘monopolize your time’ and need to get you to set. C'mon, Batman, off we go.”

Once Stiles hops out of the makeup chair, Erica links her arm with his and leads him towards the studio. The spacious room is set simply, lights surrounding the soft, cool gray backdrop. There’s a tall black barstool and white leather couch tucked alongside the wall. Since there’s no one sitting on either, Stiles assumes they’re additional set pieces that the photographer can use if the need arises. He catches a glimpse of Lydia glaring at Peter’s self satisfied smirk as Erica tows him towards a seriously solid dark skinned man who’s adjusting one of the lights. “Boyd! Look what I found! Can we keep him?”

Boyd doesn’t even blink, just finishes making whatever minor adjustment he was in the middle of first. By the time he’s done and turned to face them, Erica has both her arms wrapped around Stiles’ and is leaning heavily against him. He has the feeling she’d be rubbing her cheek against his shoulder if not for the fact he still has to do this shoot. “You can’t just kidnap people, Erica. Especially not Lydia’s people.”

Stiles can’t decide if he’s flattered or not to be considered Lydia’s. Ah, who is he kidding, it’s a freaking honor to be someone his strawberry blonde goddess cares for, considering the very short list it is, but still. He’s more than just hers! He’s considering what to say when Erica beats him to it. “We can borrow him. Lydia wouldn’t have mentioned him at all if she wasn’t okay with sharing a little.”

“You know, I’d be offended about you talking right over me if I hadn’t already agreed to friendship here,” he muses.

“And maybe a little more,” she teases before going ramrod straight at the deep growl that reverberates throughout the room. “Oooookay, maybe we table that for later.” Another growl prompts a “Okay, fine, never! Spoilsport.” as Erica releases her grip on him.

Stiles might not know exactly who was warning Erica off, but he has a pretty strong suspicion his name begins with Peter and ends in Hale. Lydia’s intensified glare at him is sort of a dead giveaway, but even without that, the power behind those growls is something only held by pack alphas and enforcers. Sure, Stiles might not have met him until today, but the wolf has a reputation for a reason.

He files that away for later and looks back at Boyd. “Hi. I’m Stiles, but I think you already knew that. Nice to meet you.”

He nods. “Boyd. Don’t let Erica make you do anything you don’t want.”

He can’t help it, Stiles laughs at Boyd’s words. “Yeah, not happening, but I appreciate the concern. Thanks, big guy.”

A loud clap breaks the moment and there’s Peter standing by the photographer. “Alright, people, let’s get to work, shall we? We do have a deadline to meet and as the lovely lady Lydia has so helpfully reminded me, we only have Mr. Stilinski’s time for today.” The charming smile on his face is flawless, but Stiles can see that his eyes are flat in comparison. Lydia’s pleased expression only emphasizes the difference between the two.

“Guess that’s my cue. Talk to you later!” He makes his way over for a quick introduction and a short explanation of what they’re hoping to get. This is essentially a filler shoot to make up the pages for this issue. It’s kind of nice, because Stiles can mostly do what he wants. They’ll give him suggestions or prompts, but otherwise, as long as they get some good shots, there’s no theme or vision he has to match. He nods in understanding and turns to walk into place when Lydia calls his name.

“Stiles,” she says. “Remember to save the best for last.”

He gives her a sloppy salute, a crooked grin on his lips. “Yes, my queen.”

“You do realize this isn’t an explicit publication, correct?” Peter asks.

“Oh, Peter,” Stiles coos with mock sympathy. “If you think the best you can get is plain old nudity, you’ve been deprived.”

There's a moment of expectant silence in the studio as they stare at one another. “That's quite a statement, Mr. Stilinski. Let's see if you can live up to my expectations then, shall we?”

“Let's.” With that, Stiles situates himself in front of the camera and gets to work.

[the-bjd-community-confess]

Please. Stop. With all the Sm4rtd0ll shops. It's like everyone who can sew a bit instantly opens a shop. The market is oversaturated. I mean... if it were shoe shops I'd be very happy but we don't need tons of shops with the same style dresses, or all the same T-shirts made from DC's free patterns.

~Anonymous

[ultimatespideypoolfan]

Here are my 0Cs Diego & Adam Salazar-Tennyson. Sons of Ben Tennyson & Rex Salazar from my Future BenRex AU. Adam has 9-10, and Diego 12-13 years old on that picture. These are Adam & Diego's full appearances.

Diego has light brown skin, green eyes, and brown hair. With a hairstyle & clothes from Ben Tennyson in the Pre-Production. Diego wears a medium-sleeved, orange and white shirt with an orange collar, and has green cargo pants with pockets on the upper legs.

Adam has white skin, brown eyes, and dark brown hair. With a hairstyle reminding me of Damian Wayne in DC Comics & Animated Universes. Upon turning 10 years old, he wears a pair of Yellow goggles & vermillion gloves. Also he wears a red T-shirt on the top-half and white on the bottom-half, with two yellow rectangles on the left pectoral. His pants are light blue, and has red shoes like in the 1999 M. Rex comics.