#i got you bby

[who-the-fuck-are-you-bruh]

WARNING! Suggestive content under ✨read more✨, minors please don't interact, let's be responsible and respectful to each other

[rocketbirdie]

face value

[methoughtsphantom]

silly headcannon #2 that Bruce never got the reference that Jason always made of himself being short round (he always thought it was Jason saying he was short) until after he died and Tim, avid Indiana Jones fan made Bruce watch the movies with him, only the man breaks out crying., sobbing, full on breaking down over the two second scene that is Indy ruffling Short Round’s hair as he explains they first met when he caught the kid stealing from him, and then took him under his wing.

[elvisqueso]

Pocahontas (1995)

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

man wears a coca cola shirt ONCE and look what happens

[kingkatsuki]

Bakugou overhears you talking to Mina about things guys do that give you the ick and he spends the rest of the day practically moping to Kirishima that you hate him.

[mydarlinglaszlo]

when everything is already going wrong and then Another inconvenience happens

[spacedlexi]

"sounds nice... having a partner"

[drolta]

watching Mizrak war with himself over what he feels are his obligations to the god he serves and his feelings for Olrox

[fistfuloflightning]

When Ming Fan finally fought his way through the underbrush to where the Rift had appeared, it was already too late. Shizun and Luo Binghe stood at the edge of the yawning chasm, swords unsheathed and pointed at each other. He hadn’t thought much of it when Shen Qingqiu had flown past him so soon after the earthquake that had torn open the Rift, but he could now see there was something very wrong. Shen Qingqiu’s back was turned to Ming Fan and his face hidden, but he could see plainly the fear and confusion on Luo Binghe’s face. Along with the glowing, damning mark on his forehead. Something demonic.

Ming Fan gripped the foliage, forcing himself not to run out. Not yet. He’d end up dead or wishing he was. He had mocked Luo Binghe early in the Conference, yes, but he knew the younger boy had done nothing to merit this kind of punishment—!

In a matter of seconds, Xiu Ya had stabbed forward, Zheng Yang had shattered, and Luo Binghe had staggered back into the Rift.

Everything seemed to still.

Ming Fan sucked in an breath and darted out of the foliage—but it was too late. Luo Binghe’s arm vanished over the edge just as Ming Fan ran past their shizun. He lunged forward the last few feet, fingers clawing at Luo Binghe’s forearm just in time. Caught, held. The sudden weight had him crashing again against the ground and the wind was knocked out of him. The taste of charred earth mixed with that of fresh blood where he’d nearly bitten his tongue in half.

But that was inconsequential. Not when he could feel the weight at the end of his arm that told him he didn’t fail. Even when the only person he needed to acknowledge that fact was someone he couldn’t stand. No one deserves to die like this, Ming Fan thought viciously. Not even him.

Dangling below him, Luo Binghe’s eyes were wide with terror and confusion, at odds with the damning, demonic seal glowing on his forehead. But there was something like gratitude there as well, out of place and so painfully frail.

For a fragile second, it felt like they were breathing the same

“Shixiong—”

With a cry, he was wrenched from Ming Fan’s grip and into the Abyss below. Ming Fan’s cry was strangled in his throat.

He didn’t know how long he remained there, clenching the burned grass with white-knuckled fingers and straining his eyes to see through the acrid smoke that rose from the chasm for even the barest glimpse of Luo Binghe. But time moved on and the Rift sealed shut and when Ming Fan blinked and once more became aware of his surroundings, he realized he was not alone.

Shen Qingqiu loomed over him like a stone Buddha, face cold as jade. His spiritual sword was once more sheathed, his robes neat and not one hair out of place. As though he hadn’t had a hand in what had happened here.

“You… you killed him,” Ming Fan breathed, still unable to fully process what had just taken place. But that’s what it was, a death sentence fed to the hungry maw of the Endless Abyss.

Shen Qingqiu. “He was a stain upon our sect.”

Ming Fan could feel the rage slowly rise. “He was a disciple of Qing Jing Peak. He was your disciple.” Acknowledging it was like vinegar on his tongue but a boy was dead because of him. He stared at Shen Qingqiu as if seeing him for the first time. Stripped of his elegance and his masks…

“He was a demon.” Shen Qingqiu sneered down at him. “There is no need to explain to you why he needed to be eradicated.”

Ming Fan tore burning eyes away from that frigid, impassive mask. He couldn’t bear looking at the man he had so long idolized. Instead he stared at the ground, in fear he would do or say something he could not undo. And beside his knee he saw slivers of metal.

The shards of Zheng Yang, tangled in the burned grass. Ming Fan’s vision blurred and his breath grew sharp and ragged, anger slamming into him full force. He wrapped his fingers around the pieces, the razor pain of their edges grounding him as the rest of his world unraveled like poorly woven cloth. His shizun had failed him.

And he had failed his shidi.

[uncaffeinatedbirb]

to all the Jayvik artists that draws Jayvik in all sorts of embrace or judas-jesus kiss reference.....I owe you my life and appreciate every single bit ever. I want to eat them all because they nourish me..keep 'em coming ily🫶🫶🫶🫶

[number-onekidqueen]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐝

Part Two Part One

Luke Castellan x Apollo!fem!reader

warnings: character death, depression, lots of crying.

Summary: you’re still feeling awkward about what happened that night with Luke. And then you get the news that changes everything.

Days passed, days since your ki- hang out with Luke. 

Hang out? Who were you kidding? It was clear it wasn’t him. 

But you’d laid yourself bare to him, been about to confess all your feelings and he had just shut you down and run away. 

Of course you didn’t wanna talk about it in the morning. 

The tragedy was he did. 

And just when you were feeling better, and your conversations weren’t so awkward, fate tossed you to the ground again, as it often did. You still didn’t really believe it. 

Cecilia, your cabin counsellor, your beloved older sister had died on the road to college. It seemed impossible. 

Of course, they’d had a brief ceremony, a burning of a golden yellow shroud weaved with her own fingers. And then they’d appointed you as cabin counsellor, announced a bunch of new kids had arrived and everyone forgot. 

It made you sick to think people would forget Cecilia. That the three Apollo kids your cabin had greeted would grow up without her and never know of her presence.

Obviously, your cabin was upset, but they didn’t make it so as Aphrodite always did. The sun keeps shining, and Apollo kids kept going, laughing, training, even if muffled sobs could be heard the first few nights. They never talked of her, and after the first week, she was a sad little scar that had scabbed. 

It still hurt a little, but the memory was what hurt the most. 

Except for you. She was still a mortal, lethal wound for you. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your composure and pretend everything was okay. 

Shortly, it all cracked and spilled out from you. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault really. Chiron was just trying to be supportive to little Will, but when he praised enthusiastically that he was the best archer he’d scene for 300 years, tears seemed to burst from you. 

Because that had been Cecilia’s title. She had been the best archer, training all the little ones supportively and making people gasp with the precision of her shots. 

It seemed Chiron had already forgotten. Everyone had. 

It was like losing her all over again. 

No one saw the little sun cracking on the archery field. They just noticed you disappearing behind some clouds. 

You didn’t pay attention to the stares and whiplash glances of some, as you ran back to your cabin with tears streaming, and your heart in your throat. 

Didn’t notice as a tall brunette boy on the sword plains spotted you, dropped his sword immediately and with a shouted apology behind him began to sprint after you. 

Your bed was warm and comforting, the covers swaddled around your shoulders in a safe cocoon as you sobbed your heart and soul onto your pillow. 

Cecelia was dead. Dead. This is what you would deal with every day for the rest of your life, she was dead and she would be replaced and forgotten and no one would even know her and-

The door creaked open and immediately you stilled, pretending to be asleep. 

“Y/N?” It was Luke. 

Not the timing, you thought to yourself miserably. 

“Y-yeah,” you tried for a sleepy yawn, but it came out cracked and pained. Ugh. 

“You ok?” He asked quietly, and you heard his footsteps approach. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just woke up.” But your voice was hollow and very much awake. 

He sat softly at the edge of your bed, and for a while you were both still. Only your breath was audible. Then, tentatively and slowly, you began to feel his warm fingers slide through your hair. It was so comforting and lovely that you had to swallow down the wave of tears that surfaced. 

“It’s okay, you know,” he murmured, your hair in glorious tangles around his knuckles, “to cry. You don’t have to pretend. Especially for me.”

“Yeah, I know,” you whispered back, “it’s just-“ you hesitated. 

I love you. 

I don’t want to burden you with all my stupid problems. 

“You probably don’t want to talk about this to anyone, right? Me included.” He guessed, and he began to retract his fingers and you felt like screaming at how utterly wrong he was. “I’m sorry, I should give you space.”

“No, you don’t have to. You can stay here.” You tried not to beg, but you were inches from clinging onto him to stop his departure. He understood. 

“Would you like me to stay?”

“Yes. Please.”

“Then here I’m staying. In your bed.” He reassured comfortingly, “I mean, on.” 

His flustered stuttering made you smile weakly and turn to face him. 

His whole face softened, lost all his fluster and stress when your eyes met, but you were too busy setting your head into his lap so you faced up at him to notice. 

He traced your tear tracks, brushing any remaining ones away with his thumbs. 

“I know the pain feels awful,” he said suddenly, “but if you ever feel bad, like you can’t breathe or you’re about to burst, don’t keep it in y/n, come find me. I’m always here for you, always.”

“Thank you.” You said near inaudibly. 

“I hate seeing you cry,” he confessed, his forehead crinkling, “or being sad. It just hurts me. But I love making you feel better, I’d do anything in the world to make you happy, I promise.”

“Thank you.” You said louder this time, your cheeks beginning to heat up. 

It was a peaceful few seconds you gazed at each other, smiling. Then you closed your eyes, comforted. 

You felt warm hands lift your body, and your eyes fluttered open. But it was just Luke lying down beside you and repositioning yourself on his chest. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, “just figured we might be here for a while.”

His arms encircled you, and even in your drunken state of misery, your heart rate sped up. You turned your head slightly, so you could hide your bashful grin in the orange folds of his shirt. His chest was warm, comforting, and you could feel every deep breath he took. 

“Sorry,” you murmured, facing up once more, “your shirt’s probably going to be all soggy after this.”

“I don’t mind a soggy shirt if it makes you happy.” He breathed, and your heart was bursting from the love that statement invoked when you saw his eyes flicker. Your eyes. Your mouth. 

Could he really-

Surely not-

Eyes. Mouth. 

The air was electric, as if Zeus himself was in the cabin. The space was getting tighter and smaller and everything was so close and dizzy and what in the gods before you knew it you were nose to nose and you could feel his warm breath and he was leaning down to kiss you against the pillow. 

It might’ve been the best kiss you ever had. With salt on your tongue, and sweetness from his lips, the tastes of all your emotions were combined, giving way to the most passionate and fantastic kiss you’d ever had. Your head was pressed to the pillow, and he was moving above you, warm, soft and pouring his heart out to you, the gateway his lips. It seemed every single ‘I love you’ either of you had ever been too afraid to say was expressed strongly now, each drop of attraction and love and feeling was encapsulated between the movement of your lips. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay,” he breathed, against your lips, when you finally pulled apart, both of you panting, “I didn’t want to do anything while you were drunk. But of course I wanted to. I wanted you. I have for so long.”

“It’s okay. I have too,” and you laughed, all those emotions and secrets finally free. You were so giddy with joy! But Luke remained tense, nervous for a reason you couldn’t determine. You calmed down, scared it was all about to come crashing down. 

“It’s- it’s not just that, y/n,” he paused, sitting up further away, eyes still looking profoundly into yours, “I love you. I love you, all of you, and you should know that to me you’ve never been a burden, only a miracle to have been with.” 

Your breath was caught in your throat, blown away by his confession. You were expecting he might’ve been crushing on you? But loving you? You’d never dared to consider that as an option. And you were beyond thrilled. 

“Now would be a great time to say anything,” he laughed nervously, fingers brushing over your shoulders restlessly. You immediately felt awful for keeping him waiting. 

“I love you too.” You blurted, letting silence ensue. “You make me so happy every time you make a joke or take care of the new unclaimed kids. I’m just in shock.”

And then the pair of you were laughing together, foreheads pressed together before you were tangled in an embrace, that led to another heated kiss on your bed.

You knew soon other campers would arrive to see two head counselors kissing, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. In fact, while Luke’s like we’re on yours, you couldn’t seem to form any coherent thoughts at all. 

In the back of your mind, you were still sobbing over Cecilia. Deeply, you knew you always would. Your heart would always be chipped in that way, the missing fragment forever in her fist as she wandered Elysium. 

But you also knew how happy she would be to see you thriving, dating and loving Luke, a boy she had always suggested and approved of. She imagined her now, giggling in delight and grinning at what had transpired. And slowly, the pain began to lift. 

Maybe a scar would be okay, as long as you loved and remembered it. 

Most of all, you knew that for as long as you required a shoulder to make soggy, Luke would always be there to be your comfort person. 

taglist:

@lifeonawhim

@sflame15-blog

@star611

I think this was all, if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just comment or message me :)

[morrigan-sims]

And I forget sometimes I'm just flesh and bone.

As he stands in the ruined bathroom, all Rook can think is, At least now I can breathe.

[sugurugayto]

telling todo your type but not telling itadori? fushiguro megumi i know what you are 👁️👁️

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

Me scooping Akutagawa up and running before fukuchi gets him

[bitethedevil]

Writer’s block is kicking my ass these days.