#fic: believe again

[reineydraws]

jason is a grandpa's boy and u cant take this away from me!!! they cook together, they discuss literature together, and when jay comes back, they clean their guns together haha. ofc they celebrate their birthday together too! 😌

✨️🎂 hbd jay & alfie 🎂✨️

[justaz]

balinor giving merlin the ambrosius sigil and merlin carrying it around with him for years. merlin and arthur sitting around a campfire, both believing fullheartedly that they’ll be dead by morning bc like hell are they going to allow the other to sacrifice themself to close the veil. arthur giving merlin the du bois sigil as a parting gift and ensuring that merlin will be taken care of after his death. merlin biting the bullet and handing over the ambrosius family sigil in exchange. luckily, arthur doesn’t recognize the ambrosius sigil for what it is - a dragonlord lineage. BUT now he thinks merlin has noble blood and is wondering when tf he figured that out, if he ever met his father, and why he never told arthur.

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[cloudcastor]

secret rendezvous

[apartmentsmoke]

"Wait, wait, stop," Buck says, and the very pleasant feeling of Tommy's mouth on his neck vanishes.

"You okay?" Tommy's got his Look of Concern plastered on his face. Good thing, because if Buck is right, this is concerning.

"Yeah, it's just - did you hear that?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows. "I heard you moaning."

"Tommy, that's the thing - it wasn't me." The Look of Concern has morphed into the Look of Are-You-Sure-You're-Not-Having-Me-On? It's mostly used whenever Buck regales Tommy with tales of one of the 118's emergencies ("Nothing like that ever happened while I was there, Evan"), but he's seen it in other contexts (explaining the entire Kim situation).

"At this point, I think I know what you sound like in bed." Tommy's mouth is still nicely red. And maybe he's right, it was nothing, and it would be easy to fall back into him. Buck waits a beat, ears perked, but there's nothing - so he does press his lips into Tommy's, Tommy's body relaxing against him.

Tommy rubs his side like Buck's an anxious horse. The hair on Buck's arms slowly flattens, goosebumps leaving his skin. He loses himself in the slide of their kisses, until -

He breaks free of Tommy and looks around wildly, Tommy woah'ing.

"Sweetheart," Tommy says, reaching out again. "Seriously, you okay? Because you're giving Ghost Whisperer."

Buck snaps his fingers at Tommy. "Exactly. My apartment is haunted."

"Evan." The word is a drier desert than Antarctica.

"There was a moan again! And it wasn't me. And when Chimney and Mara and Jee were over here helping set up, they left the balcony door open. It's October. And now there is something living here."

"Last time I checked, Casper wasn't considered alive," Tommy says, and the look on his face tells Buck everything: he really is a skeptic. Falling asleep during Buck's thoughts on Area 51 wasn't just because he found Buck's voice soothing.

When Buck reaches for his phone on the bedside table, a chill runs down his arm and into his spine. "Okay." He's got Google, a helpful army of friends, and the ability to buy anything he needs. That ghost is history. "So first, we need to get -"

He's stopped by Tommy's hand on his wrist. "Baby, do we really need to figure out your ghost thing right now?"

"Do you want to fuck in front of a ghost, Thomas?"

"Is he a hot ghost?" Tommy waggles his eyebrows, then sighs. "Look, I get that this is important to you, but I was away for three weeks for that training camp and I missed you. Can we send The Flying Dutchman back to sea in a couple days? My place has a big bed and a distinct lack of the supernatural."

As they're closing the door to Buck's loft, another faint moan emanates from the air.

"It's the pipes," Tommy says, linking his arm into Buck's to guide them to his car.

(They find out three days later Tommy is technically correct when maintenance pulls a dead raccoon out of the walls of Buck's loft.

"Huh," Tommy says, frowning at his phone. "They really do make that noise."

"And they stink." Buck wrinkles his nose. "Your bed still open?"

By the time the landlord's finished the repairs, Buck's stuff, cleared out for the construction, is scattered over Tommy's house.

"It'd be a pain to pack it all up again," Tommy says. "Keep it here."

"You just want easy access to my hoodies," Buck accuses, feeling Tommy's laughter from underneath the fabric of the stolen blue hoodie he's wearing.

Two hours later, hoodie abandoned to the floor, Buck officially moves in.)

[thanks to @stardustbuck (Buck thinks he's haunted) and @theweewooshow (balcony raccoon) for the inspo 🫶]

[hoshiina]

— a guy asks for your number ft. hoshina, narumi, reno

warnings: mentions dick and profanities in hoshina's

[maddpool]

At first Logan is convinced Wade is a morning person. It's both annoying and endearing, but that's how most things are with Wade. He's way too cheerful and talkative whenever they have to be somewhere before 9 in the morning but also will almost always have coffee ready for Logan when he finally emerges from his beauty sleep. Sometimes there's even not half-bad breakfast waiting for him.

With time, though, Logan realises that Wade doesn't really sleep. At all.

He will go to bed in the evening, but it seems like it's mostly so they can cuddle or to humour Logan. He barely gets any sleep at night, most days he just lies there staring at Logan or his phone or he, very quietly, so not to disturb Logan, gets up and goes to do his own things.

Unlike Logan, who, despite always being grumpy when Wade calls him that, actually is an old man who loves his sleep, Wade doesn't have any routine. He will catch an hour or two at night sometimes, but mostly he just crashes down whenever his body has had enough, and if he's lucky he'll get a solid 4 or 5 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

When Logan realises he tries to talk to Wade about it, but it's one of these things that he just brushes aside like it's not a problem at all.

But it is.

Especially when Logan is hit with the fact that he definitely woke up Wade from his slumber more times than he cares to admit, thinking Wade was just being lazy or didn't want to do whatever he was supposed to or what they agreed on.

Sometimes when these moments happen after a mission and they're both tired he will offer Wade "a nap" together to actually get him in bed, even if it's not Logan's bedtime yet.

He already knows that talking about it won't do shit, so instead he tries to pay more attention to these moments. When he can sense Wade is more tired than usual he will cancel any plans they might have had, making up an excuse so Wade doesn't feel like it's on him. When Wade is asleep, Logan will do everything not to wake him up, also making sure others won't bother him. Silencing Wade's phone, offering to go shopping with Al or taking both her and Mary for a walk.

More times than not Logan will also do anything that Wade mentioned having to do that day, because he notices that whenever Wade crashes, he later feels bad about not keeping his word, either to Logan or Al, or to himself.

It takes Wade an embarrassingly long to notice the change, only when he starts to feel like he actually rested whenever he wakes up. He hasn't felt this good in ages, healing factor or not.

When he finally realises it's all Logan's doing he actually cries. He immediately goes to hug Logan harder than ever and just says "I love you, too".

[gothamite-rambler]

"Okay, but how were you able to taste heroin?" I asked, confused.

Bruce (confused years later hearing this story): Wait a damn minute... Wait a damn minute. Wait a damn a minute!

Tim: He's trying to say "How did you know what heroin tasted like?"

Dick (tense): What?

Bruce (already prepared to give the drug test): Oh, that wasn't the right answer. How did you taste it and not get high? How did you taste it and NOT GET HIGH?!

Dick: Alfred knew what it was too!

Bruce: He was in the war he has an excuse! Did you do drugs with... ROY?!

Tim: Bruce, chill.

Bruce: I will chill as I make a call.

Bruce sat down, grabbing the landline phone and dialing a number. Dick sat in his seat, his eyes darting nervously.

Dick (thought voice over): I paid him... I should be fine.

While Bruce talked to Jason on the phone Tim yanked his brother to his side.

Tim (whispering): Who gave it to you, why, was it Roy, and do I need to handle your rehab stay?

Dick (pulling away): I'm not on drugs!

Tim (incredulous): Anymore?

Dick: Never was. I never was! Roy will vouch for me!

Bruce: Let's hear what Roy has to say.

Bruce put the call on speaker and all that could be heard was Jason cackling. Roy's frustrated sighing could be heard in the background.

Bruce: All right, Jason's cackling too much to answer. Roy... repeat what you said to me!

Roy: It was one party and he was stupid enough to want to try it once with me. I was already heavily addicted and even I told him not to try it. That hospital stay afterwards made him not touch it again.

Jason laughed.

Jason: Tell the other part... tell him.

Roy: He did smoke a lot of weed in his college years.

Bruce: He... WHAT?!

Roy (chuckling): Whoops forgot to tell you that earlier.

Dick (angry stuttering): I- I- I fucking paid you not to tell anybody.

Roy: And I said that wasn't guaranteed if I ever got clean! The money is gone now.

Jason: On drugs you bitch.

Roy (laughing): Shut it.

Bruce (monotone): Okay, Dick, five second head start, and then I tackle you and give you a drug test.

Dick ran out of the room as Bruce counted down. Bruce hung up the phone then chased after his eldest son. Alfred entered the office carrying a tray of small coffee cups.

Alfred: What's going on?

Tim (taking a coffee cup): Bruce found out Dick used drugs in the past and he's giving him a drug test.

Dick (running the other way): I was just a young boy!

Bruce (following behind him): SHAMEFUL!

Tim took a sip from his coffee, nodding at the good taste.

Tim: Did you use heroin?

Alfred: What happened in the undocumented war stays in that war. That and it was the old days, I stopped using it after I moved to America.

Tim (shook his head with a smile): I'm glad I'm not addicted to anything.

[sweetsouldhavernas]

Mirrorverse Kathryn Janeway and Chakotay ↳ CRACKED MIRROR

[bluemantics]

“voltron in 2024” yes the passage of time exists and people can have continuous interests it is NOT that scandalous i promise!!!!

[buckyscap]

faux pas

logan x wade wilson | 2.7k | completed

Domino scoffs and fires another bullet without looking at her target, keeping her attention to Wade with curiosity. "Logan? What, you guys are roommates now?" Wade twirls his katana like a drum major with zero coordination, "Roommates? Please. We're more like soulmates with benefits. Big, growly, stabby benefits. Don't hate me because you're single." "Yeah, right. And I'm dating Captain America." - Or, five times Wade tells people he's dating The Wolverine and the one time they finally believe him.

For @poolverine-week day 3: misunderstandings

Tags ⬇���

@cyborg0109 @logictoinsanity @casscainsbiceps @gossippool @woof-verine @cas-poisoning @some-stars @avenging-captain @theupsideofyou @picture-me-in-the-trees

i know some of you guys didn't really ask to be tagged but i was scrolling through the notes and thought i should also include ones that seemed interested enough? i hope it's okay 😭🙏

[little-pondhead]

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

[kucho04]

Lucky item, yellow hair ribbon Art trade :)

[findafight]

Robin chose Steve. Robin made the conscious and deliberate decision that she could and would trust Steve. She already liked him! She had fun working and bantering with him! They were already on their way to being weird little bffs and the torture just expedited the process. Steve chose Robin just the same! He thinks she's fun and cool and likes her so much! He chose to be honest and open with her too, putting himself out there.

Even though their interests on the surface level don't match why wouldn't they share them? Steve clearly caves when Robin wants to watch a movie he doesn't think he'll like, Robin can watch a March madness game or five.

Stop trying to take away their bond oh my god people can be close to more than one person!!! Their best friend doesn't have to be dismissive or mean or whatever in order for a romance to be special to them!

[aurieeeeeenyx]

oh yeah also jayvik are extremely orpheus and eurydice coded i don't make the rules

[mediumgayitalian]

In his head he is brave enough to say it: gods, you are beautiful in the moonlight. He is. He has made Nico weak in the knees since they were fifteen and new and fragile as spun glass, and he does now. In the moonlight his radiance is much subtler; he is opal and pearl and quartz, he is shining and multifaceted.

Instead he traces the bob of Will’s throat, his long, freckly neck, cratered with burn scars and cupped with a raised white scar from years of endless picking; follows the wild winding wisps of his hair, barely held back by his old sunglasses, compressed in coils around his head like a pen spring squished to the size of its threads, creaking with the weight of its own potential energy, brimming with the imagined burst of its future; memorizes the fluttering flap of his feathering eyelashes, the delicate dips of his deepened Cupid’s bow, the roughened raze of his wide rowdy hands. All of him is in motion, always, but now especially, hands twitching on the wheel, head thrown back, mouth wide and shaking along with his shoulders.

“I really like your laugh,” and it’s quick, vowels tumbling over each other and tripping the consonants, a queue of clumsy hopefuls scrambling over shoulders and clasping hands. The pretty laughter fades and arched eyebrows replace it, poorly hidden surprise, twitching smile lines, and Nico looks deliberately forward, mortification cackling along each of his wire-tense muscles, dancing along the shimmering heat of his face. “It’s. Wide.”

“Wide?” asks Will carefully, craning his neck to glance in his blind spot, whispering chuckles dancing along to the beat of the blinker.

“Wide,” Nico confirms, flicking out his hands. His fingers are not nearly as long, nor as wiry or corded, but the scarring is mirrored. Nicks and scratches and burn marks and calluses, topographic maps of time spent.

Will’s turn is successful — the strawberry baskets dip dangerously from their precarious perch on backseats, but don’t fall, shifting over and around each other to burst tiny globules of stretched taut flesh, rubbing against rough reed ribbons. Nico inhales deeply, and the sweet is almost nauseating, summer fruit twisting in the air along with lavender body wash and Blistex and Texas summer sun.

“You take up space.”

“My laugh?”

Laughter in his words in his hands in his skin, in his eyes, in the coils of his hair, in his grass-stained heels, in the bends of his scar-bleached knees. In the dancing dots of his face arms chest legs. In the dip of his bottom lip, crater under his too-big front teeth. In the jut of his crooked spine and wide hips.

“What about my laugh?”

It is in his words more often than not and in Nico’s dreams even more so. It curls around the blurry edges of his dreams and weaves into daisy-strong chains, dangling from the too-high ceilings of his nightmares, coiling around his arms and chest and back and yanking with the force of breaking ribs, the force of bellows, the force of clasped bloodless hands. Dragging him across trench gouged ground to bright light and clear air and the distant memory of summer rain.

“That you like, I mean.”

“It’s snorting,” Nico confesses. Will reddens, and Nico smiles, under the heat of it grows sunflower and dandelion and tinted brown-eyes Susans. “Um. Loud.”

“Geez,” Will grumbles, “tell a guy the truth, why don’t you.”

Nico has never seen gold under silver nightlight and it fascinates him, how Will sparks and shimmers, how when the sun sets it does not fade away. How the tiny specks of precious metal weave through him like tinsel and glow in veins of sweet summer memory; how the warm night billows and blows around him lovingly, how the breeze from the open window greets him like a precious grandchild, a beloved nephew. Seedchild; beloved of the earth and sun, performer under the moon, the stars.

Will’s wide hands inch across the dash, brushing over the ancient radio dials and dipping over the skipping cassette, pausing by the base of the gearshift and resting, limply, palm open, fingers cracked and spread. Knuckles popping and chittering amongst themselves, hiding in the bent hoods of wrinkled skin. Nico lowers his heavy hands on the heated hopeful hesitance, curling his cool fingers around much longer ones, and squeezing, once, twice, thrice.

“I like your laugh,” he repeats. He rolls his shoulders, hands flexing, twitching, pulling.

Will’s hand tightens. The road opens up and the Atlantic glimmers beside them, moon whispering to its rippling waves, and he smiles, grins, wider than before, and he is laughing, again, and it is wider even this time, as wide as the sparkling silver water.

“I hear you.”

He squeezes.

You are beautiful in the moonlight. You are beautiful all the time.

Nico squeezes back.