#i haven't proofed this

[canisalbus]

Oh a little fluffy gold puppy looking up at the scary man in the portrait their father keeps in his office... 🥺

[sincerelybubbles]

"spence?"

"hm?"

"when did you get home?"

a more awake you would be squealing, thoroughly excited he came home early from his trip, but the early hours have hardly begun to bring light and you're struggling to even open your eyes to look at him. your cheeks still widen into a pleased smile though, turning into his warmth and humming, confused, when your hands find the rough fabric of his coat.

"a few hours ago," he says, voice rough, eyes still shut. one arm across his eyes, blocking the minuscule light, the other a vice around your waist. his voice is slow, deep in his chest, caught on the sleep he obviously wishes to keep. but he still turns his face toward the sound of your voice, smile creeping up at the corners of his lips, willing to entertain you despite his fatigue.

"are you still wearing your shoes?" you ask, voice teasing, scooting up in his arm to nudge your nose against the curve of his jaw. you press a kiss there, the point where his bone hits a right angle, lips tingling from the stubble you find.

"no," he says, voice honest, "i know better than that."

"no shoes, but your belt is still on?" you tease, fingers dragging across the leather. you don't care, not beyond a genuine concern for his comfort, but you enjoy teasing him in this way, skimming your lips across the rough skin of his chin in not-quite kisses.

"i took my gun off," he complains in a half-hearted groan, lifting his arm to peek at you out of the corner of one eye. "hi," he says, voice still soft, somehow deeper with affection, dimples the star of the show on his cheeks.

"hi," you say, tilting your head back and lifting your arm to cart your fingers through his mess of hair. "welcome home."

he smiles, reaching around with his other arm to gather you up and drag you across his chest in a bear hug, chuckling at the squeal you let out, sighing against your hair. he presses a firm kiss there, right above your ear.

"we will have to wash the sheets, though. it was really gross for me to not change, i was just exhausted, sorry."

[uncanny-tranny]

Basically, my philosophy around disability fakers is: I would rather a thousand people fake a disability than have one disabled person suffer without care, aids, compassion, or any help.

[evercelle]

2024 art summary! it sure has been a year

[notadreamurr]

@justwantswafflefries i think they should get married and go on a honeymoon trip to the bahamas 👉👈

[anthropoetics]

someone pushed my mom on the bus and she chipped her tooth on the bus handle. she went to the er and they basically sent her away with pain medication, telling her she had to see the dentist (that's a two month wait). she says she's in no pain, but her lips and mouth are contantly bleeding and everything she eats tastes like blood, so if you can help me, please. i've sent her everything i have saved (which is basically nothing given the fact that i just got a job), she's going to the dentist in two hours, but we still don't have enough to pay him (which he kindly agreed to do what's necessary even if we don't have the money now). if you can help us with anything, please.

my p*aypal is ianalsvn@gmail.com

[milkfur]

My wofsona (drawn in 2023). Her name is short for Albatross. She's a chonky IceWing.

[chericherilvr]

summary: Soobin's love language is physical touch, and you just have to deal with it—at all cost. w/c: 526 warnings: cursing? clingy Soobin, just pure fluff author's note: I have to go rnrn, but I am so making the rest of the boy's love language. This comeback... this comeback killed me... I love summer songs...

Sometimes, people are destined to surprise us. You could know everything about someone, yet one day it all changes.

You still remember the times in which Soobin was shy. The soft glances after looking away. The small smiles, eyes following your every move, after you entered a room. That time a bet made you get ever so close to him with a teasing "do I make you nervous?" with him immediately breaking into a blushing mess—the guys still tease him about it to this day.

How could someone so confident on stage, be so shy outside of it.

And how could that same person now, months later, be the most shameless person you knew.

"Binnie, I can barely breathe"

Yet Soobin doesn't reply. Currently with your body under his, what was supposed to be a cute movie-cuddling date, turned into a call for help. It's summer for fuck's sake. And no amount of love could make you feel any less hot.

All day he had been following you around: The hand-holding while cooking—barely got to not burn something. The constant side hugs, back hugs, picking you up and spinning whenever he felt like it. He always had to have something touching you, knowing you were there.

"Soobin."

"I don't care." He mumbles from the crook of your neck—which his face is buried in. It tickles.

"Hope you like cuddling with a corpse if I can't soon get some water to hydrate" I say, although I allow my hand to go play with his hair.

"You'd be the cutest corpse"

"Not the compliment you think it is"

He whines and hugs you closer, tighter. Without a warning, he sits back up, pulling you up with him to stand. A gasp passes your lips, eyes widened before you realize he moved to hug you from behind.

"Go hydrate or whatever you humans do"

You shake your head slowly, and only take the first steps towards the kitchen after seconds of processing what was happening.

"Newsflash, you're human too, you need to hydrate or whatever"

"I am not," his whisper carasses your ears, "matter of a fact, all I need to be alive is this!" he pats the side of your hips.

The cups left on the kitchen counter are cold at touch, especially after filling them up with water. Gently, you tap on the hand wrapped around you, and try to pull it. He shakes his head.

"Water Soobin, drink water."

Sometimes, people are meant to surprise us. That way it keeps things interesting. Some people change out of their own will; for others a simple "Drink or no more cuddles" gets them out of your back for a couple seconds. The sight of Soobin is truly still adorable, even when he rushes to drink as if death was hovering above if he didn't.

You could always expect and await for someone to change, yet you know the people closest to you.

Just like how Soobin clung back to your after hydration. Just how you will always allow him to—no matter if you can't breathe. No matter if he stays there forever.

[being-of-rain]

Just watched Lucky Day! Pete McTighe, the mind who brought us "What if it's the people who don't like inhumane warehouse conditions that are the problem", has once again tapped into public consciousness to give us exactly what we need in this day and age, which is "What if it's the people who don't like violent armed organisations that are the problem."

[teastainedprose]

Mark You Pretty (Homelander x Reader)

My brain saw this post and ran with it. Homelander bruises you. 13k words, Homelander x GN!reader (Warnings for bruising, mild Sadism/masochistic play)

The first time Homelander bruises you, it's an honest mistake. He didn't mean to grab you that hard. Not really. Sometimes Homelander forgets how delicate normal people can be. It had been a reflexive thing, snatching you about the arm just above your wrist as you reach over him to gather up the handouts from the meeting.

"Leave it," Homelander mutters with eyes still fixated on the stack of papers set before him, gloves creaking as he briefly tightens his grip on your arm before releasing you. The small gasp you make as you withdraw doesn't penetrate his concentration. He doesn't notice how you rub at your arm, expression pinching up while stepping away. You're another faceless worker bee and Homelander has no time for you. The meeting is over and you shuffle out with the other nameless non-supe Vought employees. His attention is back to the paperwork in front of him, mind buzzing on how to handle the downswing in public opinion on The Seven. You're forgotten as Homelander turns back to the task of being Homelander.

He doesn't even register that he hurt you until the next day. It's the top you're wearing that does it. Long sleeved and out of season, which draws his attention to you for the second time this week. He registers the blooming bruise peeking out from under your sleeve when you bend over to offer handouts about the table. He blinks, clocking the imprint as a mirror of his gloved grip. There's no guilt associated with this realization, simply an understanding of the connection. He did that to you. Homelander marred your pretty skin with a bloom of purple where he grabbed you. Suddenly, it's satisfaction that's coiling in his gut. He likes how you wear his mark.

For better or worse, now he notices you.

Homelander lets his eyes wander up your arm, snagging briefly on your ample chest before flicking across your face. You instantly look away, unable or unwilling to meet his gaze. Cute. He smirks as he takes you in. You're a charming enough little thing. A bit too skittish for his taste, but the bruise he left on you keeps drawing Homelander's eyes back over and over again.

For the entirety of the meeting, Homelander lets his attention wander to you while his eyes roam your form. He's shameless with the ogling and never looks away when you catch him at it. No, he's only further pleased by it. He makes sure to catch your eye as his lips curl up and part slightly, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth. That gets a blush across your cheeks and you're quick to break eye contact. This only amuses Homelander further and galvanizes him to find further ways to unsettle you throughout the meeting. You are his distraction to make this presentation a little less dull.

The meeting ends and Homelander puts you from his mind once more as soon as you walk out the conference room doors. You're nothing but a passing amusement, something to play with at the next meeting perhaps. He's already letting the image of your blush and the bruise he left on your skin fade from his thoughts before something catches in Homelander's ear later that day as he strides down the hallway.

There are many curious sounds within Vought Tower and Homelander has heard plenty. People whispering secrets across phone lines and into ears. Muffled moans of employees sneaking off to empty conference rooms or even broom closets for salacious rendezvous. The one that catches him now? It's soft, more a quiet exhale with a moan undercutting the sound. He blinks, pausing to look towards where the sound came from. It's your office Homelander finds himself standing outside as he cocks his head to the side. He watches you as you sit at your desk, clearly not thinking yourself observed. X-ray vision lets him watch as you press two fingers into the bruise he left on you, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to hold back that noise. You moan again all the same, your enjoyment evident as your face twists into a brief flash of pleasure.

Oh, isn't that interesting?

Now Homelander's fascination with you ignites. His eyes seek yours constantly throughout every business meeting the two of you find yourselves in now. He's prone to stepping too close and invading your personal space whenever Homelander comes across you, which has jumped in frequency. He even has the gall to hook his pinky on the sleeve of your shirt one day, tugging it up enough to check if the bruise is still there. By then the purple has faded to a duller, splotchy green. His mark is almost gone and Homelander finds he doesn't like that one bit.

The second time Homelander bruises you, it is very intentional. 

He's bolder the second week. Homelander deliberately holds you back after one meeting with a flimsy excuse. Those massive doors ominously shutting close after everyone else has filed out. Now you're trapped inside the conference room with him. It makes your pulse skitter with terror, which is an utter delight to Homelander. He can smell the fear off of you. A heady scent that stirs a primal need within him because it's mingled with your arousal as well. That fact alone has a smirk on Homelander's lips as he approaches you, hands clasped behind his back and under his cape as he leisurely strolls over. Normally, such posture would be non-threatening but on Homelander it's anything but.

It's a terrifying sight yet compelling. Homelander is ever the perfect superhero in looks. Vought's true golden boy that you and countless others privately swoon over in the break room despite his reputation. yet even you have learned that Homelander isn't the squeaky clean supe he's portrayed as. The looming trial only adds further credit to the rumors that circulate about him. Still, it's thrilling, and you may be a little too into the danger Homelander represents. You can't help the anticipation coiling in your belly as you watch him stalk closer.

He traps you there against the wall, shifting as he places a palm flat against it. You stare at his chest as Homelander slides his hand down, lifting it to cup your chin to tilt your gaze up to meet his own. "Er, you wanted to talk sir?" You manage to push the words out, flushing at the tremor in your voice. He smiles and those too sharp canines flash. You shiver, eyes wide as you meet the clear blue of his gaze.

"You bruise easily, don't you?" Homelander muses, his hand on your chin shifting to stroke down your cheek before moving to your neck. Electric heat shoots up your spine from the chaste caress, the leather of his gloves smooth against your skin. His fingers curl around your throat as you feel his thumb ghost over your pulse point. Your breath hitches at the subtle threat but then he's sliding his hand down to tighten his fingers about your shoulder. Homelander digs his thumb in just below your collarbone to the point of pain as he watches you intently.

You hiss in response, eyes squeezing shut before you huff out a sound. It’s not a pained noise. An echo of the sound he’d heard by chance last week. He eases up, a knowing look on his face as you open your eyes again.The scent of your fear lesses, while your arousal fills his nostrils. You like the pain. He smirks all the wider while leaning in to ghost his lips over your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you." Homelander rumbles out, breath a hot caress against your skin. For the other day or just now? You don't know which he's apologizing for and there's not much time to ponder over that because Homelander's lips are against your own in the next breath.

His mouth against your is Homelander's sort of apology, more for him than you but you enjoy it all the same.

[tiredandoptimistic]

What I enjoy so much about Angel's curse as a plot device is how it works to expose who he is as a person and call up questions about what it means to be good or evil.

The intent of the curse was nothing but punishment. Angel would be forced to feel the guilt of everything he'd done, and if he ever let go of the guilt enough to experience pure joy, it would all be stripped away from him. It wasn't about giving him a soul so that he could be a better person, it was all just to maximize his suffering. And well, it does a pretty damn good job. For almost a hundred years, Angel spent his time wallowing in guilt and misery. He wasn't contributing anything to the world, but he wasn't taking anything away from it either (unless you count the rats he was eating). Until Whistler comes along and shows him a glimpse of Buffy Summers, and suddenly his life has a purpose again.

In the first season and a half of Buffy, Angel tries to actually do some good for the first time in his life. He makes the choice to use his abilities to help people, and it changes everything. He lets himself fall in love with Buffy, and as a side effect he concentrates more on the positive potential of his future than the shadows in his past. Turning evil is his punishment for allowing himself to be happy, and it exposes the hypocrisy of the original curse. Guilt and punishment was effective in keeping Angelus out of the world, but it's also what brought him back. Angel lost his shot at joy, and so did Buffy and Giles and Jenny and all the others. It's such a good representation about how punitive justice cannot lead to positive change. Arguing that his past crimes make him unworthy of any hope just leads to him going back to his wicked ways. If he'd been allowed to be happy, the Scoobies wouldn't have lost one of their most powerful allies and the world wouldn't have been nearly swallowed by Acathla.

Having a soul was never meant to be a reward. It wasn't supposed to be a shot at redemption, but he found his way to Buffy and was redeemed anyways. The hundred years of sitting around being sad did a lot to shape who Angel is, but it didn't motivate him to try and be better. It was Buffy that made him genuinely strive for a brighter future and save hundreds of lives along the way. It wasn't guilt that made him a good man, it was hope.

[skrunksthatwunk]

EXTREMELY REAL MOMENT FROM HIRANO HERE

[aceofspades-sml]

I know I was supposed to do this long ago but when I have more time remind me to make that compilation of "Blush almost kissed in 92sies" moments

[kaiserouo]

[flowersforthemachines]

watched the Rookanis romance scene with flycam and did you guys know that Lucanis rests his hands on Rook's legs/thighs during the kiss. a bit unwell about that detail

[ell-arts]

The Veil  |  Chapter 10  | No Rest for the Undead

Chapter Summary: The Ghost Gang find themselves in a compromising predicament.

-

Finally, a ghost with actual fingers for me to draw! :D

I am very tired, but so glad to finally get this baby out. I might hop back into the chapter tomorrow to fix some errors I may have missed, but for now, enjoy!

I am very, VERY curious over what you guys will think of this chapter.