#getting to kno me

[xkinktasticx]

List 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people who liked/reblogged something from you. Get to know your followers and mutuals!

last time I answered this naughtily. This time I will answer in songs which I have choreographed lyrically in my living room

Bonus song that makes me happy that I have choreographed lyrically in my living room:

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Someone was sobbing. After a moment, Anakin realized Oh. That's me. And then his knees were buckling and he was heading for the ground. Obi-Wan caught him. "It's all right. I've got you." -K. Miller

[damian-lil-babybat]

'Dead Poets Society' gang

Headcanon that these four drop poetry and literature quotes on their conversations unprompted.

Jason 'English-major-I-only-visit-the-manor-for-the-library' Todd-Wayne

Damian 'I-master-liberal-arts-unlike-you-plebs-PHD-holder' al Ghul-Wayne

Cassandra 'I-learn-English-thru-Shakespeare-as-god-intended' Cain-Wayne

Duke 'only-title-holder-of-vigilante-poet-and-will-cuss-you-just-as-poetically' Thomas-(future) Wayne

[hinamie]

choke you back like fingers

[sketchy-tour]

Sooooooooo.... Ponies, am I right?

listen LISTEN LISTEN!!! I've been!!! I've been drawing pony au stuff for the past day cause I felt like combining my comfort medias together for funzies.

OBVIOUSLY I am in no way the first one to design a pony Wally! This is just my design for him!!! Anyway, have some extra doodles below~

Last doodle is pony Dandy with Berrie, an oc owned by @randompony03

Anyway pony blast over! :3c

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[pepperpixel]

Initial drawings of that old man… I literally, I haven’t finished reading the book of bill yet!!! I had to stop and take a break for a week to feverishly draw fanart of myself petting fords floofy hair and giving him attention and shit…!!!! The urge was too great….!! I’ve literally. I had a crush on this guy the instant he was first REVEALED in the show, but I did not have the artistic prowess to draw good looking old men back then… but I do now… thank god… thank fucking god

[overstuffd]

thinking about all the amazing options feeders have to give their little piggies to drink

🥤sugar stuffed soda with plenty of carbonation to stretch your stomach to bursting point and then melt into a soft layer of blubber

🍺cold beer, lining your stomach with liquid carbs while making you light headed and easy to feed more salty treats to

🍦milkshakkeess extra thick gainer shakes with a slice of decadent cake blended in with with the icecream and heavy cream

☕coffee filled with cream and extra, extra syrup, topped with more cream and chocolate drizzle. an extra shot of espresso or two to get you craving more and more cups a day

🧃sugary juices i persuade you as a still-in-denial cutie are the healthy choice, plying you with thousands of calories of sugary sweetness on a hot day and agreeing whenyou say you have no idea why your pants are getting so tight

[rebouks]

“What’re we doing here?”

Oscar shrugged casually, “Hanging out?”

Robin scoffed with what little joviality he could muster, “Yeah, right…”

Oscar paused and broke eye contact, staring at nothing in particular as Robin waited. It was usually fairly easy to ascertain the direction of a conversation before it even started, given that people tended to rehearse what they’d say beforehand, but not Oscar. His mind was simultaneously blank and fit to burst; he was making it up as he went along most of the time, but that was one of Robin’s favourite things about his father. It paved the way for genuine, on the fly honesty.

“Figured maybe you’d wanna talk-..” Oscar rubbed his temple, “Ask me whatever you want.”

“Really?”

“Yeah-.. within reason.”

“Why’d you do it?” Robin blurted out; his eyes full of unbridled curiosity, though his father wasn’t looking at him.

“Willpower is a finite resource, y’know? I had a shitty day and I caved-.. didn’t really think about it all that much, to be honest.”

“What do you mean?”

Oscar sighed, backtracking slightly as he realised that wasn’t exactly the honesty he was going for. “Well, it’s not that you don’t think about it-.. I thought about not doing it a bunch of times, but the second I decided otherwise, I went on autopilot and got it over with as soon as possible so I wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. Probably because thinking on it too hard is uncomfortable.”

“Where’d you go?”

Robin wouldn’t usually have to ask such a mundane question, but he’d struggled to fill in the blanks for himself. Oscar’s memories of the previous night were fuzzy and his thoughts sprawling.

“There.”

“The bar?”

Oscar nodded, still unable to meet his son’s gaze. “You remember it used to be a vet clinic, right? Your grandma ran it briefly, years ago-.. we lived in the flat above for a little while, when you were a baby.”

“I remember.”

Oscar sounded surprised. “You do?”

“Kinda-.. you’ve told me about it n’ stuff…”

Oscar shrugged a shoulder, supposing that’d make sense.

“You don’t have to feel so ashamed.” Robin ventured.

Oscar almost looked at Robin, though his gaze fell somewhere near his shoulder instead. How could a fourteen-year-old boy conjure such compassion? Such accuracy too. Shame.

Sometimes it felt as though he were talking to a man, not a boy. He was still a child, of course; arguing with his siblings over utter nonsense, playfighting, whinging about school and homework, leaving his dirty socks all over the place-.. but sometimes it felt like he understood much more than he should’ve. Oscar couldn’t imagine many people being so emotionally mature at thirty, never mind half as young.

“Dad…”

“I’m sure I’ll get over it-.. I always assumed I’d relapse at some point, but as the years went by, I guess I got complacent.”

“How’d it start? Like, did you just wake up one morning and realise it was an issue or..?”

Oscar shook his head slightly, running his thumb over his beard in thought. “Nah, it was slower, I just ignored it. I’d always been daft and over the top with stuff like that, partying n’ shit, y’know? It was like a crutch after a while though, and eventually, I needed it just to feel normal-.. went too far to feel nothing.”

Robin opened his mouth to speak, but Oscar wasn’t finished.

“You’ll probably get some stupid cop coming to your scout meetings or your school one day and they’ll stand there n’ tell you all about how drugs and alcohol are terrible or whatever, but it’s bollocks. Sure, they’re bad for you, but they feel good and that’s the problem. At least for me it was-.. is. It shouldn’t even be legal, really, not that it’d do much good if it wasn’t-.. it wouldn’t have stopped me, anyway.”

“I’d love to forbid you from going near it, but I’m sure you’ll all try it for yourselves one day. Maybe it’s just something to do, maybe it makes a boring night more fun, gives you the confidence to do something you’re scared of, talk to someone you’re shy around, I don’t know-.. you might hate it, you might not.”

“You hate that you still like it, don’t you?”

Oscar finally met Robin’s gaze as he nodded. “So much.” He wondered if he was making a mistake, being so open, but it was too late now and Robin had yet to balk or appear uncomfortable. If anything, he seemed concerned and intrigued, glad of the chance to ask whatever he wanted-.. not that he couldn’t usually, but the invitation was clearly welcome all the same.

“All your troubles just melt away, but they’re twice as bad when you wake up and doing it over again doesn’t solve much. It’s not the answer, Robin.”

“I know it’s not.”

Oscar’s frown softened as Robin slid beside him, threading an arm around his waist.

“You prefer being sober though, right?” he asked.

“Ah, that’s a loaded question…” Oscar sighed. “I prefer my life when I’m sober, but maybe a part of me will always crave that oblivion. It’s just something I have to live with.”

“Do you think you’ll do it again?”

“I don’t know, bud-..” Oscar admitted. “I’d like to say no but I don’t think I can make any promises, that’s not how it works.”

Robin nodded understandingly; he would’ve preferred it if his father could’ve made that promise, but a harsh truth was better than a hollow lie.

“They don’t mean much if you don’t keep em.” Oscar added.

“I get it-.. thanks for letting me ask you about it though, I know you’d rather keep it to yourself.”

“You’re still young but I know it’d drive you nuts otherwise. Besides, I don’t want it to feel like a dirty secret we can’t talk about, at least between us-.. might not wanna go telling all your friends your dad’s an alky though…”

Robin buried his face in the crook of Oscar’s shoulder and squeezed him tightly, desperate to convince his father that he didn’t think any less of him.

“Nah, they’re got enough ammunition.”

Oscar couldn’t help but snort at that. “I love you so much.”

“I know-.. I love you too.”

Robin said nothing a while as his father held him - or he held Oscar - only breaking the silence upon feeling his restless thoughts return.

“It’ll be the summer holiday’s soon, maybe we could go camping or something?”

Oscar smiled fondly. “Yeah, that’d be fun…”

Previous // Next

[jinstronaut]

kim seokjin, according to @aprylynn happy birthday apryl! ♡♡♡

[xkinktasticx]

List 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people who liked/reblogged something from you. Get to know your followers and mutuals!

Oh I am so upset! I answered this yesterday!! I answer this ask differently every time. This time I will be answering with songs that give me eargasms. In no particular order and also I’m doing 10 cause I can

[naffeclipse]

What if Eclipse from AP was a naga? And this took place in the deep jungle of the amazon, where photographer y/n is trying to take pictures of the wildlife?

I'm vibrating at the speed of sound over this ask while also nudging my naga au

Naga Eclipse from AP would have the tail of a Green Anaconda, with an olive green scaly color dotted with black, framed by burning-like flares of orange along the length of his slithery body. He's also decorated with orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, slipper form. His upper half is scaley with a lithe deadliness to his musculature and decorated by frills surrounding his head with brighter orange-yellow colors, almost hypnotic in their gradient hues. One eye is deep emerald green, and one is midnight blue.

Lucky you—you're out on a once-in-a-lifetime expedition to explore a jungle closed off to the public, funded by Fazco, and occupied by two researchers who will be your bunkmates for the next few weeks. You're itching to take photos of the large river, including swamps, marshes and streams, and whatever wildlife is out there.

The few locals you did meet before you left to hike the rest of the way to what would be your new, isolated home warned you of a dangerous snake—a large, mythical beast. You take note of the local folklore. You understand the truth is hidden in there somewhere, and you are well aware of the dangers and diseases you could be met with in such a harsh environment, but you're determined.

It doesn't take long for you to feel eyes watching you when you first venture out by yourself. You take beautiful pictures of freshwater fish, big and beautiful, unlike any you have ever seen. Of course, you have hundreds of snapshots of the local flora, the trees, the floating meadows, the thick vines that drape each branch and hang thickly about the ground. You almost forget that you eerily don't feel alone.

But you swear something moves in the water—the ripples stop as soon as you look. The stillness is suddenly stiff, lifeless. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

You lower your camera and carefully put it away. A trickle of fear slips into your heart. You turn away from the river's edge only to be met by a low hiss and a creature, unlike anything you witnessed in your travels, spooling itself neatly out of the water, blocking your path to the base. An incredible creature with long arms and a great, serpentine tail that seems to stretch for yards and yards. You can hardly breathe in his presence—he's otherworldly with his frills and scales and fangs.

His eyes contain a mesmerizing shine as if staring into a fire as it burns or watching the ocean as it laps up against the beach, drawing your attention, demanding you don't look away. You couldn't anyway. Half-frozen, you struggle to keep from collapsing. He beckons with a sharp talon. He hisses softly for you to come closer, mouse. He wants to see you. You try to beg no without revealing how terribly you tremble. He doesn't let you go. He insists. His eyes flash with an allure. You almost step close when he murmurs that you need to be good.

But then your sense of survival kicks adrenaline into your heart, and you turn to run—

He strikes faster than your eyes can follow. Two loops of his green and orange tail surrounded you in an instant. You're dragged to the ground, your arms pinned under his mass, and the back of your head cradled by his large palm as powerful muscles squeeze you in the slightest—a gentle rebuke for thinking you could get away. You're hyper-aware of the terrifying bulk of muscles as you lie trapped in his coils. One strong twist and your eyes could pop out of your skull, and every bone protecting your heart and lungs would crumble to shards. You gasp. An urge to kick your legs and struggle erupts in your panic; a sinking feeling tells you it would only make things worse.

He coos over you, hissing and humming in an ancient song of the jungle you have no name for. When you whimper, he shushes you and strokes your cheek. He tells you how lovely you'll be. When you talk back to him, somehow finding your tongue amid your horror, you find out his name. Eclipse. He moves you more upright, resting you on his tail so you're not petrified by how vulnerable you feel lying down, but he never loosens his scaly bindings. He hovers over you. You gaze into his stunning frills of yellow-orange and wonder how a being like him came to exist. He studies you as you study him. He grins at how you shiver when he traces your collarbone with a sharp fingertip.

You remind yourself that you can still breathe. He hasn't crushed you—yet—but you don't like how wide his smile is. Sometimes, his jaw stretches a little too long as if dislocating from his skull, ready to devour you. His eyes gleam with a ravenousness as scales twist around you, holding you close enough to smell the slick green water he had been in and deep musk.

He tells you that he'll see you again very soon—away from other humans, lest you bring him a fine gift for a meal. You can only flex your fingers, silently pleading in your heart that he won't unhook his jaw and eat you alive.

Then, he unravels himself from your limbs. But before he lets you go entirely, he leans in close, his serpentine tongue flickering close to your neck and by your hair, tasting the air around you as you muster all your strength to not scream. He inhales deeply, pleased, before he murmurs, "Sweet mouse. You are mine. Say it."

You don't understand, but you echo his command, and when he taps your chin once in what might have been a loving gesture, you force your jelly legs to solidify before you run and run, all the way back to base. You slam the door to your room behind you. You touch your ribs, your arms, still caught in the heavy sensation of his loops as if he were upon you right now.

The stories are true—there is a giant snake in this jungle, and he wants you. You're afraid to discover if Eclipse's intrigue with you is only an exotic way to satisfy his hunger.

[a2zillustration]

I carried this thing for MONTHS with the EXPRESS PURPOSE of putting Raphael in it (knowing full well Larian wouldn't let me do that, mechanically) and I had one major miscalculation.

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[[ All Croissant Adventures (chronological, desktop) ]]

[[ All Croissant Adventures (app) ]]

[hailsatanacab]

I'll ask after that secret number 8!

I only remembered secret number 8 because I saw your wip here! I'd started this one based on the same prompt, then lost said prompt and stopped working on it 😅

Instead of a snippet, I'm just dropping it all here - maybe that way I'll feel inspired to finish it?

———

It’s a full house for dinner tonight and, really, that should have tipped him off.

Bruce sits at the head of the table, smiling softly as he watches over everyone’s antics. Damian is regaling Dick with everything they saw at the zoo that day (Danny had been so happy to see Delilah the purpleback gorilla again, and her new little additions to the troupe, too!) and how well they are implementing the grant the Wayne Foundation had gifted them. Tim, Steph, Cass, and Duke are all engaged in a thumb-war tournament which Danny has no interest in participating in. It just wouldn’t be fair on them.

Danny loves that look. The one where Bruce’s eyes crinkle when he thinks none of the kids can see him. It oozes love and it makes Danny’s heart, his core, ache. 

It’s been a little over a year since Alfred found him on the street and managed to wrangle him back to the manor to stay—even after the whole biting thing when he realised how rich they were. 

A little over a year here and Danny’s starting to feel like family.

Starting to feel like he might, just maybe, like to make it official.

“Danny,” Bruce says, drawing everyone’s attention. Danny starts at his name, but Bruce’s voice is warm and calm, and his shoulders lose their tension almost immediately. “Danny, I have something I would like to tell you.”

“Uhhh…” is all Danny can croak out, eyes flicking back and forth between Bruce and the rest of them. Smooth. Looking good, Danny.

Except… they’re all happy. All smiles, all relaxed body language, all radiating calm and love and acceptance. Well, not Damian—his face is as thunderous as it always is—which at least means it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.

“Danny, first of all, I just want to impress upon you that this is in no way something you have to do. You are under no obligation to join us and, no matter what, you shall always be welcome with us in the manor.”

Wait, what? Danny squints at Bruce, trying to parse exactly what he’s saying… Is he—is this them asking to adopt him? Do they want to make it official, too? 

It’s been a little over a year and of course Danny has imagined calling Bruce ‘Dad’. Of course he’s imagined being part of the family, of course he wants to make it official!

He can’t help the beaming grin or the bright and bubbling “Yes!” already waiting on his lips. All Bruce has to do is ask, all Danny needs to hear is—

“I’m Batman.”

The smile freezes on Danny’s face.

His lungs stop working, his heart stops working, he stops working, he just—

“And I’m Nightwing,” Dick smiles, breaking the awkward silence. 

Danny’s eyes snap to him, and then down to Tim when he admits to being Red Robin. Duke is Signal, Steph is Spoiler. Damian begrudgingly tells him he’s Robin, but Danny can barely hear it over the ringing in his ears.

“I’m Black Bat.” Cass cocks her head, almost looking concerned. It always felt like she understood him the most. Whenever he was feeling low, too in his memories, or stewing after a nightmare, she was always there, ready to card her fingers through his hair and never mention his tears. It makes his heart ache to think of it now. “It’s okay, Danny.”

It’s meant to be reassuring, but how—how can it be okay? How? 

Danny’s spent a little over a year with them. A little over a year with Batman. 

Batman, who works with the Justice League, who works with…

A little over a year. 

Just under 16 months since he escaped.

“Danny? Are you alright?” Bruce asks

Finally, his lungs kickstart and suck in a shuddering breath, only for everyone to drop their smiles.

Didn’t take them long, did it? Now that their ruse is up, there’s no kindness in their eyes, they’re just… cold, calculating. Evaluating. 

“Why?” Danny gasps, his fingers tingling, his heart in his throat.

Just under 16 months since he—has he escaped? Or was this just another one of their experiments?

"I... I trusted you, why—" Danny chokes back a sob, gritting his teeth as his shoulders shake. Why? Why would they do this? "I was happy here, with you. I thought... Weren't you happy?"

"Danny..." Bruce is looking at him, eyes narrow and eyebrows pinched, in some cruel facsimile of confused concern and all Danny can think is how much of an actor he is. How well he can play the part of a doting father. How much he made him want that.

"I don't understand, why..." 

"I'm sorry we didn't tell you before, I can imagine that it comes as a shock. We shouldn't have lied to you, Danny, but—"

"Stop it!" Danny slams his hands down on the table and pushes himself up on wobbly legs. Even standing, he feels so small. Smaller than Bruce, than all of his adopted siblings. They crowd above him when they all stand, too. "Just stop it! Why are you doing this, why are you still pretending? Stop it!"

It was easier, with Danny's biological parents. The knowledge that they'd do anything to get him on a lab table, to open him up and see what makes him tick, to rip him apart molecule by molecule, had always been there. He knew they hated ghosts. He knew they hated Phantom. He knew they hated him. It was easier because it was something he'd known all his life. When he died, when he became a ghost, he knew what to expect from them. It hurt, of course it did.

But it was easier than this.

"Danny, I'm going to need you to take a deep breath. You're having a panic attack and you need to breathe."

"Breathe?" Danny laughs, the sound harsh and choking, too high pitched in his hysteria. "You're joking, right? Or is this just more of the—the experiment?"

"Danny, please, we don't know what you're talking about, you—"

"You don't know? You're Batman! You work with the Justice League, you work with—" His words choke off as his stomach churns, bile rising in his throat. His whole body itches, screaming at him to leave, he can't go back, he can't, he can't, he can't!

Bruce takes a hesitant step forward and Danny scrambles back, his feet catching on the chair behind him and sending him careening to the floor. Where are the agents? Why aren't they swarming in, ready to apprehend him, strap him back on the table, carve him from the inside out.

"Please, Danny, calm down. We don't—"

Danny stops listening. His back hits the wall and he pulls his knees into his chest, his shoulders dipping down as he begins to sob. His heart throbs inside his throat, too painful to swallow around. Tears fall hot and heavy on his face.

Sure, he could run. He could phase out through the wall and he could be out of Gotham in a couple of hours. He's escaped the GIW once, he can do it again.

But that was before Batman knew who he was. Before he had the World's Greatest Detective on his tail.

Before he... 

He really thought this would be different, you know?

He wanted to make it official.

"Why did... Why were you so nice to me? Why did you make me like you? I really—I really liked you. I-I thought we could be a family."

"Danny, we are a—"

"Don't lie to me!" Danny snaps, but the force of his anger leeches all the fight from him, and suddenly all that's left is a bone-weary tiredness. There’s a lump in his throat that hurts. There’s a line down his chest that burns. "I don't care. I don't care anymore, I don't. Just... don't make me go back there. Please." 

Is it futile? He thought he knew how the GIW operated by now, the depths that they would go to achieve their results, but this... this was a whole new level of pain that Danny thought he had left behind him in Amity.

"We're not going to make you go anywhere, Danny, you're safe here, I promise."

"Safe? Safe? You must have—" he takes a deep breath, tries to stop the quivering of his voice. It’s all starting to make sense, now.  "The reason you're telling me who you are is because you must have told them everything already. I know the Justice League—I know you're working with them, which means the ex-experiment is over now, and they're coming to take me back. And I can't go back."

"Danny—"

"I can’t!” Danny glares at Bruce with all the rage he can, fingernails digging into his skin. “I’m not going back!"

"That's right, you're not going back, Danny. I won't let that happen." Bruce crouches down in front of Danny, his hands open and raised as if he's trying to say he's not a threat. "I don't know who you're talking about, and I'm sorry about that, but I can promise you that you’re not going back there. We will keep you safe."

Danny pulls himself closer, tucks himself further into the wall, eyes flickering all across the room waiting for that tell-tale flash of white as the agents start to swarm.

He should take his chances now and run, he should go, he needs to go!

The rest of them, his brothers and sisters of a little over a year, are spread out, giving him and Bruce some space. The same concern colours all of their faces. Why are they still pretending?

Steph is chewing on her thumb. 

Danny liked Steph and her brash confidence, her jokes. She's been promising to paint his nails for months now, they've just never found the time. He was going to go for green and black, or maybe a galaxy theme, depending on what she felt comfortable doing.

He likes them all.

"You were supposed to be my family." His mouth turns down at the corners and his voice shakes like a child. "You were supposed to—why? Why would you—I don't understand why you would make me like you..."

"This isn't an experiment, Danny," Bruce's voice is steady, soothing. "I promise."

"But you work with them and—"

"Who do I work with?"

"The Justice League."

"Yes, I do, but we—"

"And the Justice League works with them. The GIW." Danny trembles with the name, clutching tightly onto his hoodie. "I'm not going back there, Bruce."

Danny doesn't miss Bruce's look over his shoulder, nor Tim's nod in return. Tim turns slightly to the side to hide his movements, but Danny bets he has his phone in his hand, probably letting them know they can take him now. Guess this is it, then. They'll be here soon, and he'll be gone.

"Kill me."

"Danny? What do—"

"If you ever had any kindness for me, if you ever cared, kill me. Please, Bruce. I can't do it again."

"Danny..."

"End me now. Take my core out and break it, please, before they get here."

[anonymouscheeses]

I'm gonna be shitting and screaming and starting fights if Sera becomes a villain. I can't take sibling angst, Sera loves Emily I swear guys believe meeee.

[whilomm]

note: pollmaker is thinking of the USAmerican lottery system (powerball, mega millions, state lottos, scratchoffs, etc), but poll applies to other countries lotteries systems so long as its still the same concept of "big ol state sponsered gambling shit", but not like casino style gambling. u know what i mean, Lottos.

questions for the tags: how regularly, what stuff you play, if you have limits for yourself, if you feel like its a Problem for you, and for funsies the usual 'first thing youd do if you won the lottery' shit

reblog to have absolutely zero effect on your luck either way. just like, absolutely no change in luck whether you reblog this or scroll past. this is the luck neutral post reblog in the next 30 seconds or dont who give a shit