#idk what I wrote lmao

[lazylittledragon]

ok someone please correct me if i'm wrong but am i weird for thinking those 'audiobooks don't count as reading' posts are ableist as fuck????

[wikiangela]

It's a quiet evening, they're winding down after a long, exhausting day of work, just enjoying each other's company. They're on the couch, a cheesy romcom playing on the TV, Tommy's head in Buck's lap, Buck's fingers playing with Tommy's soft curls.

He's watching Tommy more than the movie. He observes his reactions, the soft smiles, the small chuckles, the eye rolls and scoffs - depending on what's happening on the screen. He's so beautiful and Buck wants to stare at him forever. And he gets to.

He beams, as he glances at his hand, still in Tommy's hair, where a simple silver band sits right on his ring finger, an exact match to the one on Tommy's hand, now casually resting on his stomach. Well, almost an exact match, the inscription on the inside just a little bit different - they both say their wedding date and the word 'forever' but they also have each other's names inscribed. Buck likes to take if off sometimes and just look at the words, trace his fingertip over Tommy's name, still amazed that this is his life, even after over a year of being married already.

So he observes his husband, eyes scanning all over, while Tommy's completely immersed in the movie, the romantic dork - Buck loves that he's the only one who truly gets to see this side of him. He's so cute and gorgeous, and Buck loves him so much and just can't take his eyes off him.

That's when he notices it, and a gasp breaks out of him. He can feel a huge grin pulling at his face.

"What's wrong?" Tommy immediately looks at him, a small concerned frown creasing his forehead. When he notices Buck smiling, worry turns into pure confusion. "Evan?"

"Baby." Buck says seriously, his fingers gripping a strand of Tommy's hair, as he announces happily, "You have your first gray hair." He's looking right at it, just a tiny, barely noticeable, silvery hair. It's there, and it looks beautiful, and Buck already kind of can't wait to see his husband get more of them.

"Okay?" Tommy's frown deepens, this time with amusement. "So?"

"So-" Buck starts, then shakes his head. It's stupid, it's just a hair, no big deal, everyone gets them eventually, it's nothing special. But in a way, it is. Because when they met a few years ago Tommy didn't have gray hair. Because in their line of work, and with their luck, with Buck's luck, seeing yourself or a person you love grow old is not always a given - and it's such a blessing. This, seeing a gray hair in Tommy's hair, combined with wrinkles starting to form on his beautiful face - it's an amazing sight. They're sharing a life together, growing older together, they're able to see each other go through all these changes, step by step, day by day, seemingly unnoticeable unless you pay particular attention. It makes Buck feel so grateful for this life he has, for his husband, for getting this chance. "Nothing," he says, fingers resuming combing through Tommy's thick curls, eyes still drawn to that lone gray hair. "I just love you."

"I love you, too, Evan." Tommy smiles that crinkly smile that makes the lines around his eyes even more pronounced. Buck has to lean down and kiss his lips, then the corner of his eye, making Tommy laugh. "What's that have anything to do with my gray hair?"

"I just really like the thought of getting to grow old with you. Of spending my life with you." Buck whispers, and sees Tommy's smile melt into that soft 'Evan' smile, reserved just for him.

"And you say I'm sappy," he responds teasingly, and Buck laughs. Oh, he loves Tommy so much. He looks into Tommy's eyes and sees everything he was just thinking about. He sees how Tommy wants the same things, how he appreciate those reminders, like a silly gray hair, of getting to go through life together.

He kind of can't wait to start going gray, too. To grow old with his husband.

[stariiiize]

imagine, one day, just looking at yourself in the mirror and feeling so happy.

you’re not the prettiest, you know that, but you’re happy.

you don’t have the curves or the hourglass body, but you’re happy.

you don’t have a flat stomach, but you’re happy.

you don’t have a thigh gap, but you’re happy.

and you slowly start to realize,

you don’t have a lot of friends, but you’re happy.

not everyone likes you, but you’re happy.

you’re not the smartest, but you’re happy.

you don’t talk a lot, but you’re happy.

you’re not socially active, but you’re happy.

you’re not perfect, but you’re happy.

that day might not be today but you’ll get there, i know you will.

there will be a day in your life where you’ll be happy with yourself.

happy with the way you look, happy with the way you act, just happy with your life.

that day might not be today but it’ll come.

[mrsoharaa]

You and Miguel trip over each others feet, drunkenly, landing on the softness of your cozy bed with your back gently bouncing amongst the thick warmth of your blanket and his towering, stocky frame looming over yours protectively...admirably.

His soft hues of hazelnut irises gaze down at you with such tender and allure. Briefly glances down to the plushness of your pretty, fully lips promptly back up to your glimmering, hazy eyes. Contemplation roaming through his foggy mind.

Your gentle and sweet giggles lure him out from his thinking, eyes focusing more intently into your gorgeous eyes. Sinking and basking in the sheer beauty that resonates from your reeling optics. A lazy, half witted smile weaving across his strong cheeks.

"¿Qué es tan gracioso, preciosa?" he chimes with the same smile, watching you softly roam your tinier hands all over his wide, firm chest. Leaving a trail of arising goosebumps beneath the thin layer of his black shirt that snugged ever so nicely around his bulked stature.

"Y-you Miggy...you're so funny" you emit a small hiccup, fingers still grazing over the soft, light fabric that atoned to his fit body ever so perfectly. Your wandering irises stilling into his directly, nipping back your bottom lip as your palms smoothly, gradually glide their way up and around the juncture of his strong jaw to the back of his neck. Easing in the closeness between the two of you.

He raise a thick brow in curiosity and interest, chuckling lightly as he hums to the light invitation your fingers were hinting at, at the back of his head. Twirling and curling ever so delicately and diligently in between the soften locks of deep mahogany.

"Am I now? do share, dulzura" he keeps his adoring, flaunting smile on his beautiful face. Watching you ever so intently and longingly with every motion you'd make, consuming the intoxicating feeling of your welcoming gentle touches.

You giggle once more, another loose hiccup reverberating through your throat. Your hands clasping more securely around his neck and pull him down to meet your warm, tender lips. Hardly ghosting over the shell of his right ear.

"I can s-see you fighting back the u-urge to kiss me Miguel..." you whisper ever so daintly, smoothly deep into the depths of his ringing ears. You feel his muscles tense under your touch, arising a more coy and playful smirk to tug amongst your heated cheeks.

His head tilts lightly, lips skimming over the flush of your flawless skin, suavely rakes both of his large hands up along the strut of your calling body.

"...Would you be against it, mi amor?" his voice tremored with such lowered bass, rasp like as he grazes your cute cheeks with a teasing touch of his warm lips. Grinning oh so cheekily against the supple flesh as he feels you writhe and squirm a bit beneath him.

Your hands weave more profusely into his curly, brunette hair. Fingers curling and combing through each soften strand, as you pull him more closer towards you.

"O-of course not dummy...that's w-what I've wanted all this time" you breathe out faintly, listening to the sudden hitch of his breath settle at the back of his throat. His dilated pupils following over to remeet your coyish, yearning gaze.

It didn't take him much convincing afterwards to have his hungry lips lap over your own with such dire need and desire. A mixture of dizzying passion and aching want, fueling his ignited action against your lips. Devouring every moan, whimper and breathy gasps that slipped off your trembling, candied lips.

Diligently, wallowing in the devoted and amorous kiss.

[nothingtoseeherebyeexx]

hey! *drops this and disappears*

rip lily evans, you would’ve loved taylor swift <\3

close upss bc i’m kinda proud of this :d

[the-broken-pen]

I adore your writing style! If you want could you do something about a hero with wings?

The villain rounded the corner into the alley just in time to watch the hero nudge the boot of the body in front of them with their foot, face considering.

“For a hero, you kill an awful lot of people,” the villain pointed out, and the hero turned to stare at them, blood splattered across their pure white wings.

“What, that?” The hero kicked the boot of the body strewn across the concrete below them. “This is community service.”

The villain tipped their head at the body. “Does he know that?”

“I think he’s figuring it out,” the hero grinned, and the villain could do nothing more than stare at them, slightly dumb, for a second.

“How the fuck are they still calling you archangel when you keep murdering people in broad daylight.”

The hero shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t even know why they started calling me that in the first place, to be honest.”

The villain made a mocking face at them, and the hero made one back. “Oh, with the pure white wings and dazzling face, I wonder.”

The hero clasped a still bloody hand to their chest. “You think I’m pretty?”

“I think you belong in a jar of formaldehyde.”

The hero dropped their hand, sighing. “Funny, because everyone else keeps writing fanfiction in my honor. And trust me, they have very strong opinions on my appearance.”

The hero’s grin couldn’t be described as anything other than catlike, pleased and sharp. Their wings cocked behind them.

“I’m sorry, you read fanfiction about yourself?”

“Don’t be jealous, there’s plenty about you, too.”

The villain spluttered. “I’m not jealous–”

“Sounds like it.”

“Oh my god.”

“Don’t bring that douche canoe into this,” the hero said, looking up. “His ego is the size of the titanic and I am doing my very best to sink that fucker.”

The villain gaped at them. “That is not very ‘innocent angel baby of the media’ of you.”

The hero kicked the boot of the body once more, and the villain winced. “Will you stop that–”

“Oh, sorry,” the hero looked down at the body. “Do you mind?” They turned back to the villain , gesturing with their thumb over their shoulder. “He says he doesn’t mind.”

“Archangel,” the villain repeated. “Fallen angel, saint of the city–”

“Listen, people will excuse anything if it comes from a pretty package.”

“What, so you use your pretty face to get away with murder?”

“No, I commit murder, and I happen to be pretty, and for some reason everyone is plenty fine with excusing the murder because of that fact. I’d be doing it regardless,” the hero confided. “My murderous tendencies continue whether or not I am forgiven for them.”

“What, so you just murder anyone you feel like?”

The hero gasped. “I’m not a monster,” they said, the corner of their mouth twisting into a wry grin. “My mother raised me right.”

The villain got the sense they were on the wrong side of an inside joke.

“That was decidedly not an answer to my question.”

The hero groaned. “You’re absolutely no fun right now. No, I only kill bad people. I’m a good samaritan.”

“I think we need to redefine your idea of what that term means.”

“Okay, if I was going around killing anyone who annoyed me, I would have a way longer rap sheet. Like people who cut in line. Not to mention how fucking annoying it is when someone decides to DIY a summoning circle in their basement and I have to handle that mess. Do you know how annoying it is to get magically butt dialed by a white woman on a random ass Tuesday?”

The villain blinked. “Uh. Can’t say I do, no.”

The hero ran a hand down their face in annoyance, smearing blood behind as they went. The villain cringed, but it didn’t seem to bother the hero in the slightest. 

“It’s really fucking annoying.”

“You also swear a lot,” the villain noted. “Not very heroic.”

“I think we can both agree I remain very firmly planted in the vigilante section of the spectrum,” the hero gestured with their hands to some imaginary chart. The villain squinted at them. “Also, what are you, the language police?”

“Uh,” the villain said, and the hero smiled innocently at them. There really wasn’t anything to say to that. “No?”

“Tell me, you pick up lots of girls with that suave demeanor of yours?”

The villain bristled at that. “You–I–ugh,” the villain groaned. “Did it hurt?”

The hero’s head tipped slightly to the side, endlessly amused. “Hmm?”

“When you fell from heaven,” the villain continued, and it was quite possibly the dumbest thing to have ever come out of their mouth, but this entire conversation bordered on a level of unhinged they hadn’t thought possible. 

The hero blinked once, twice, then burst into laughter, doubling over. Their wings ruffled in a way the villain had long since learned meant amusement.

The villain flushed. 

“You really think I fell from heaven?”

“I don’t know,” the villain said defensively. “It’s just a dumb pick up line–”

“You said it with an awful lot of certainty, though,” the hero countered, and the villain wished they had something to throw at them. 

“What was I supposed to think, with a name like Archangel and blinding white wings?”

The hero shrugged one shoulder.

“Have you ever actually met an angel before?” the hero asked, then amended, “other than me?”

“No,” the villain admitted.

“They don’t go around killing people, that’s for sure. Bunch of stuffy–”

Lightning cracked across the sky, and the ground rumbled slightly.

The hero groaned, wings tucking in. Blood flaked onto the ground. “What, you’re both pissed at me?”

A gust of wind whipped past them, hurtling down the alley, there one second and gone the next, and the hero let out a sigh. “Sorry.”

They did not sound sorry.

“Both?”

The hero looked back at them, and this time when they grinned, it was slightly sheepish.

“Yeah,” they said. “God, and, you know. My mom. Raised me right, remember?”

The villain was an idiot.

“You didn’t fall,” the villain confirmed, and the hero nodded their head. “Though I’m sure you absolutely would have earned that by now, if you were going to.”

The hero reared back, like they were about to spit something rude, but the villain continued before they could.

“Please, please tell me your father isn’t Lucifer,” the villain said, and the hero rubbed a hand across the back of their neck.

They laughed slightly. “Uh. About that.”

“Oh my god,” the villain said, and the hero didn’t even look upset about the reference. “You’re from hell.”

“You could call me an avid climber,” the hero offered, and the villain just looked at them.

“You’re an angel from hell,” the villain said.

“Technically, I’m an archangel from hell. So like, the media wasn’t exactly wrong with that one.”

The villain could write a killer memoir about this.

“This makes so much sense.”

The hero frowned. “I don’t like the implications of that.”

“You literally kill people.”

“Bad people,” the hero corrected. “We’ve discussed this.”

“I feel like that violates some sort of cosmic rule. There has to be some rule that breaks.”

“What?”

The villain gestured vaguely. “You’re self supplying your hometown.”

The hero laughed at that. 

“This really is not that big of a deal.”

“You’re a nepo baby.”

“And you’re awfully comfortable saying that to a literal child of satan.”

“If you wanted me dead, I would be.”

The hero weighed their head from side to side. Their wings moved behind them, as if they, too, were considering. “True.”

The villain found themself rubbing a hand over their brow. “You kill people, and you get away with it because you’re pretty, and people think you’re a child of god. When actually, you’re a child of Satan, and you crawled your way out of hell to wreak havoc on my life.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly why I did it,” the hero said dryly. “To fuck with you.”

“I would not put it past you,” the villain countered. 

“You were not my reason,” the hero said. They slid a step closer, hand curling into the villain’s collar, and the villain's mouth went dry. “But you are awfully pretty.”

“You’re literally an angel–”

“Which means it’s high praise,” the hero murmured, wings curving over the tops of their shoulders, and up close they looked even softer than the villain had thought they would. Their eyes stayed firmly planted on the villain’s lips, and the villain had no idea how they had gotten here but they were confused about it and also not quite mad–

“If you’re trying to woo me to distract me from the fact that you’re a dark angel, it’s not working.”

“Isn’t it?”

The villain swallowed. 

“You know, all that fan media includes you,” the hero said casually, and the villain’s heart skipped a beat.

“What?”

“You really thought I read it just for me?” the hero grinned, stepping back, hand falling away from the villain. “Oh, please.”

The villain opened their mouth to say anything, then closed it, then opened it again.

The hero’s eyes were laughing at them.

“Maybe the bloodshed is partially because I want your attention,” the hero mused. “Or maybe not. You’ll never know, will you, human.”

They said it like an endearment.

“You–”

The hero nodded. “Yeah. I tend to do that to people.”

“I don’t–”

“If it means anything,” the hero said as they went to move past the villain. They tucked themselves against the villain, lips brushing the shell of their ear. Their feathers skated down the villain’s bare arm, and they shivered. “My mother approves.”

The villain’s face was hot. They shuddered out a breath. The hero released them, continuing their path down the alleyway, and the villain spun to watch them go.

The hero paused at the mouth of it.

“Oh,” they snapped their fingers like they had remembered something, but their grin said this had been planned. “Her name is Lilith, by the way.”

The villain’s brain short circuited.

Lilith. The mother of all monsters. Lilith, the wife of Lucifer. Lilith, someone who apparently approved of the villain.

‘I’m not a monster. My mother raised me right.’

Oh, this little shit.

The hero laughed, vanishing around the corner, blowing a kiss as they went. The villain could have sworn they had a halo, wings still splattered with blood, and in the arch of the sunlight they were every bit the fallen angel the media thought they were.

“Oh, you beautiful, monstrous, wretched thing,” the villain murmured, but it was fond. “Only you could make damnation look like divinity.”

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

ok this is a controversial opinion but like….. to me, henry spencer was actually not a shit father….. hear me out.

i understand that there’s a lot of subtleties that go into emotionally abusive parents, and i’m not trying to dismiss that, but honestly i just don’t see all the negativity that gets associated with him so often. also, between henry and madeleine, one parent actually seemed to be there when shawn was growing up, and it wasn’t his mother.

let’s look at shawn’s childhood. in all the flashbacks, henry was the one who volunteered at shawn’s school, who took him to movies and was around for all of his new hobbies and interests. he was the one making sure shawn did his homework and hung out with his friends and learned life lessons. granted, some of his teaching methods were not appropriate for a kid shawn’s age, so yes i can see where the criticisms come in and i agree with them. but he was so much more than his mistakes, he was the parent who cared.

when shawn grows up, yes there’s animosity between him and his father but to be quite honest, i’ve never met one person who doesn’t have unresolved daddy issues so that in itself doesn’t condemn henry in my mind. we see how much henry saved from shawn’s childhood and how much he remembers, and to me he actually does quite a bit to help shawn when he needs it. this is particularly telling in comparison to madeleine, who isn’t there to begin with and eventually we find out she really did leave her kid behind, and to me that does a lot more damage than any one thing henry did.

shawn and henry have issues, i won’t argue with that. but i really don’t think henry gets enough credit for the good he did and the way he tried when shawn got older. above all else, he was there and he was there for shawn, and that’s important. god knows it’s not everything, but it’s something.

[jeanboyjean]

I THOUGHT OF ANOTHER ONE👀👀👀

What do you think jean’s reaction would be if he likes you but yall aren’t together, and he catches you staring at one of the other guys after a workout, or something like that (I just know he’d be so dramatic lmao) feel free to pick one person, give a general reaction or a list, whichever you want, no pressure 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

asjkjskj OKAY so i just started writing and this is what i blurted out akjsdfnsd he is actually so dramatic i love it when he’s a little pathetic like let me love you u silly man. this became 500 words HAHA

Jean knows.

He’s an idiot but he knows he shouldn’t be jealous. In fact, he has no right to feel anything at all. He shouldn’t even be looking to be honest. And yet, he can’t help it. Not when his world slows to a stop, walls caving in, vision tunnelling to zero in on you every time you’re in the same room together.

His grip tightens on the dumbbells he’s holding, knuckles white, teeth clenched. The sound of his blood pumping roars in his ears, silencing the music blaring in his earphones. 

Why the fuck are you staring at him? 

There you are, sitting on a bench across the gym in your cute little workout outfit and instead of looking at Jean, your eyes are locked on his friend in front of you. Reiner’s deep in a squat, with at least three plates on each side like the miserable show off he is. You must be between sets, with your water bottle in hand, but your gaze is fixed on his form as he grunts out another rep.

Honestly, Jean can’t even blame you when Reiner’s out there throwing around weights like it’s nothing. If he was attracted to men, he would probably be checking him out, too.

Jean huffs in annoyance. He looks down at his arms and flexes his triceps. Sure, he may not be as beefy as Reiner, but he’s no slouch himself. Why is it that you never seem to notice?

Sometimes he’ll feel a glimmer of hope when you smile at him the way you do with that little twinkle in your eyes as if laughing at an inside joke only the two of you share; only to be shattered in a second when you turn that same look on someone else. There’s only so much more of this he can take before he feels like he’ll be about ready to burst. 

Jean knows he should just look away and focus on himself. But how can he when you’re right there, looking as perfect as ever despite being sweaty and messy from working out. Hell, it only makes him want you even more. He wishes it could be him making you sweat. You would never need to go to the gym with the way he knows he could work you out. If only he could just muster up the courage to tell you how he feels. All he wants is to just make you his. He swears he would do anything to give you everything. 

He’s burning holes into Reiner’s body with his eyes and the other man must be able to feel it because he halts, looking up into the mirror to make eye contact with Jean. Reiner double takes and racks his weights. Clearly confused, he slides his headphones off his ears and turns to face Jean with his eyebrows raised. The movement catches your attention and you stir from where you’re sitting on the bench across from him. 

Your eyes follow Reiner’s gaze to land on where Jean is standing, seething, still gripping the dumbbells like his life depends on it. And then, Jean’s heart stutters and the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh … because there it is. Your smile. You've got that smile lighting up your face and now all the tension is escaping his body, leaving him weak in the knees. What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him and only him that way. 

When you lift your hand up in a small wave, it's the nail in the coffin. That's it. He’s going to have to make you his now.

teehee! 

jean’s out here simmering thinking you’re staring at other guys … which true bc they’re also pretty hot … but in this instance you were actually zoning out and reiner just happened to be in front of you. 

i chose reiner #1 he’s gym dad #2 i can’t keep making every situation jean x reader x eren. 

[pvppyjawn]

lvoe these gyus. pismo and scarb

[1-800-i-ship-it]

Kim Dokja: *struggling to adjust a framed drawing from the kids on the wall* is this straight?

Han Sooyoung: About as straight as you are, dumbass

Kim Dokja: *looks away* I don’t know what you’re talking about

Yoo Joonghyuk: *walks by, leaning in close to the squid, eyebrows more furrowed than usual* Kim Dokja, that is crooked

Kim Dokja: bastard *blushes at the proximity, unsuccessfully tries to hide it*

Han Sooyoung: *smirks and sidles up* maybe this will help you cope *shoves her lollipop into his mouth and walks away*

Kim Dokja:

Kim Dokja: *bi panik ensues*

[aloonaram]

Here’s an edited wip of my Birdflash oneshot.

Fair warning, this will probably change in the final product as I try to figure out at what point in the timeline I want this fic to take place.

“You look like shit, Dickie.”

“Gee, thanks, Walls. You’re such a loving boyfriend,” Dick retorted. He tried for a smile, but Wally watched sadly as it twitched and fell before it could become what it once was–what Dick’s smile used to be.

Dick opened his door wider in invitation and Wally rushed in and examined the place. Gotham wasn’t ever known for its beauty, but even with that in mind, Dick’s apartment looked pretty rough. Empty containers of takeout and miscellaneous trash littered the floor and countertops. His couch was sprinkled with brown spots that he almost assumed were polka dots before he realized they were most definitely patches of dried blood. Clothes were strewn across every surface, their musk permeating his senses. Dick brushed past his side and made his way to the kitchen, opening his rickety fridge to expose the meager amount of food he had. Wally would bet his life savings that each of the five items had gone bad too, based on the state of the place.

Dick turned to toss Wally a water, “So…what, uh, brings you here?” Dick’s awkward tone hangs heavy between the two. Now that Wally could get a good look, his lover was in rough shape. Even worse than his apartment; which was a feat, his mind whispered. His hair laid limp and greasy along his neck and his bags seemed to have bags of their own. A couple of dark bruises peeked through the collar of his shirt, some leading down to his left arm if the strange way he seemed to carry it was anything to go by. Dick clutched his own water bottle, doing his best to look anywhere but at him.

“You haven’t been responding to my messages,” Wally started, “I texted the other Robin, uh Tim, I think? But he never got back to me either, so I got worried, you know? Figured I’d take matters into my own hands. I don’t have super speed for nothing.” He waved his hands around, doing his best to lighten the mood. “It’s been a long time since we’ve gotten to talk, let alone seen each other in person, but, you know, if this isn’t the best time, I can totally leave. I know this is kinda spur of the moment.” Wally wished he could slap himself the moment his lips stopped moving. Some of the younger heroes had started calling him a professional yapper and he wished it didn’t fit so damn well.

Wally watched as Dick took a breath and rubbed his temple as if he had a headache. He winced. Yeah, this probably wasn’t the best time to show up out of the blue.

“No, I…You don’t need to leave, “ Dick sighed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been responding, Walls. Everything’s just been… a lot, to put it simply. I’ve been so busy trying to balance my day job, Bludhaven, and…and being Batman. I just haven’t had much time to myself lately, if you can’t tell by the state of my apartment.” Dick laughed pitifully and winced when it shook his aching arm.

He couldn’t help moving forward into the kitchen and enveloping Dick in a hug, something he definitely should’ve done the moment he’d arrived. His partner sighed shakily and moved to wrap his arms around Wally’s middle. He felt Dick’s face pressed against his chest and hooked his chin to the top of his greasy head. Dick had always been one for physical comfort, a miracle considering who he’d grown up with and the environment he’d been forced into at the ripe age of nine. Wally would be lying if he didn’t say Dick’s need for physical affection didn’t bring him relief and make him feel needed. Sometimes, he felt powerless amidst his lover's strife–Batman’s rule against metas in Gotham limiting his ability to help. Providing Dick a simple hug; feeling the tense muscles in his shoulders loosen and his breath hit Wally’s neck as he sighed in relief, was Wally’s respite from his perpetual guilt.

Wally knew about Batman’s…death. He’d been there when Dick hosted Bruce’s funeral, letting Dick squeeze the life from his hand as he listened to the speech from Alfred. With Bruce gone, the natural order of Dick’s family had seemed to fall apart. Dick had taken the mantle of Batman, a title Wally knew he had never wanted–never felt right for him. He’d be lying if he said he fully understood the magnitude of such a change–that he knew how large the chasms carved by trauma had grown to separate Dick and his siblings. And yet despite that, he knew one thing for a fact. Dick, his lover and the man he’s known for well over a decade now was not the type of person to let others shoulder pain on their own. He took and took and took until he knew only he carried the weight of the sky on his shoulders, letting his muscles feel relief only when his family no longer felt pain. And he’d continue to carry that weight with a smile as long as he knew his family would smile back, unaware of the sky creeping in on Dick’s tense shoulders.

Wally squeezed his arms tighter around Dick’s back, supporting him as his breaths became ragged in their silent embrace. As Wally did so, a sick thought entered his mind, fueled by the anger and pain he felt for his partner; a small part of him–microscopic even–was glad Bruce wasn’t here. Not because he reveled in the effects his passing had on Dick, nor because he wanted Dick to be forced into the role of Batman, but because despite his struggles, Bruce had never been good for Dick. Yes, he played the parental figure Dick needed when he was younger and yes, he provided the necessities for Dick to survive, but he never provided what Wally knew Dick needed most.

“Do you wanna move to the couch, babe?” Wally whispered, cheek pressed against Dick’s head. He feels Dick nod silently and Wally zipped them to the couch in less than half a second. Wally sat and patted the spot next to him, watching as Dick laid his head on his lap, pressing his cheek to Wally’s stomach while letting his legs hang off the side of the couch.

Never one comfortable with silence, Wally broke it first. “If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t push. We can chill, watch the Office, eat popcorn–whatever you want. I just worry…you know? Not being able to be here to help and hearing on the news, Batman and Robin this and Joker and Two-Face that…I just wish I could do more for you.”

Wally looks down to meet Dick’s pained stare and internally winces as Dick opens and closes his mouth, struggling to respond.

“Me and the bats have it handled over here, okay?” Dick starts quietly, aimlessly running his hand over Wally’s knuckles. “You don’t need to worry about me, honey. I know you have more than enough to deal with back at Central and I don’t want to stress you out with problems I have handled.”

Wally lets his free hand run through Dick’s hair, quickly relishing in the way Dick warms to his touch. “I can’t lie and say I wouldn’t be stressed, you know me too well for that, but I’m here to support you, Dick. To be your listener when you’re stressed.” He paused for only a moment before speaking again, “I know you, Dick. I’ve known you for almost every era of your life as you have, mine. I knew you when you were my scrawny, baby leader-”

“Hey-” Dick tried to interject, but Wally kept going.

“I knew you when you wore that god awful blue and yellow disco Nightwing suit-”

“It really wasn’t that bad-”

“And I know what it looks like when you don’t have things handled. You don’t need to soften the blow for me Dickie and you don’t need to play the perfect soldier.” Wally paused. Let it be known even the Flash is out of breath from time to time. “You were always there for me during rough times, so please let me be there for you.”

[mistykaru]

i got stuff from the csp asset store and i wanted to play with it so this is a mess but i did have fun and i kinda dig the vibes

[mrsoharaa]

Fighting against Suguru in the midst of battle with a knife perched at the skin of his throat, right against his carotid artery, with shaky hands and a glare of hesitation. Your heart battering frantically, blood rushing through your pumping veins — your mind a rambled mess. All you can see are nostalgic flashbacks of you and him, and a few of you, him, Shoko and Gojo all hanging out with one another. Having a great time at arcades, beaches and just simply a night out on the lively city.

Your brows furrow more tightly together, your fingers clamping more sturdier amongst the knifes handle, your own breathing becoming more ragged and heavy. Your chest beginning to hurt.

One particular flashback kept your hesitation at bay, holding you back from pressing the sharpen blade deep into the starring, motionless man pinned beneath you (which, in all honesty - he could easily switch places or remove himself in this particular position so effortlessly if he wanted too). Your teeth purses deep into your bottom lip, dilated pupils narrowed down at the lulling irises of calm violet.

The sound of rain continued to dance amongst the rooftops of your apartment and the glass of your living room window. With candles half lit throughout your dimly lit home, naked bodies comfortably nestled up against each other and the cozy fireplace flickering before the two of you — you could all but hum pleasantly against the comfort of his bare, solid chest and the pure enthrallment and tranquility of his embrace. Your fingers tracing light shapes along his glistening flesh, lifting and resting your chin upon his perfect chest with such care and gentleness, sighing inaudibly, endearingly at the soft caress of his long fingers slowly, tenderly tracing up and down along the arch of your spine.

"You know you didn't have to do this Suguru" your voice softly coos, a placid smile gracing his features as he gradually gazes down at you, holding you ever so closely against his radiating warmth. his fingers continuing their gentle strokes along your back. He leans down to the top of your mangled hair, planting a pliable kiss.

"You deserve this angel...I would do anything for you" he softly hums against your hair, welcoming the inviting scent of your shampoo and the lingering odor of your faint perfume still stuck against your skin.

"Ughhh, Suguru! you're literally so perfect stop spoiling me!" you wail with giddy and playfulness, eliciting a soft chuckle from the dark haired man holding you, welcoming your sudden motion of climbing and attacking all over him once again. His large hands resting on the curves of your hips, holding you upon his waist, eyes quickly reconnecting with each others. A glimmer of sheer adoration and endearment crooning in both of your stares, the adjoined noises of the crackling flames from the comforting fireplace and the pattering rain pouring down from outside wooing you both into a deeper trance of sublime and deep foundment for one another.

Your slim fingers finding refuge through the silky strands of onyx sprawled out beautifully along the blanket - pillow covered floor. His own still latched onto your delicate, supple flesh.

Your fingers trail back to the softness of his radiant face, tracing the strong features of his cheekbones and jawline with subtle grazes. The touch of your fingertips brushing along his skin making his heartbeat accelerate, soaking in the gentle caress and tender you were basking him in. He leans into your touch, kissing your palm, eyes still locked onto yours.

"I love you sweetheart, always will"

The hold on the handle of your blade begins to falter, your body starting to tremble as your lip quivered from the haunting, warm memory deeply embedded into your messy head. The blade of the knife inches closer against his flawless skin, barely making a nick against the sensitive flesh.

Suguru only stares at you blankly, all while holding a twisted grin against his cheeks. His protracted digits suavely, sneakily finding the familiar comfort of your legs, holding you down against him. He doesn't move an inch after commencing such a bold move.

"Lost in thought are we angel?" the sound of his rasp voice pulls you out of your head, shaking out of your fuzzy, clouded memories and focus more intently down at the renounced criminal laid out beneath you. Your fingers find a firmer grip amongst the handle, keeping your stance steady. Your brows knitting tightly together. the churn of his demented grin only growing that much wider, your bodies swiftly, abruptly switching places.

With your back now firmly plant against the cold ground and the knife that once was held against his throat, found the thumping plush of skin amongst your jugular. With his left hand sturdily holding your arm that held the blade, you could only hitch back a breath and dumbfoundly gawk up at the sickenly amused man hovering above you. Little loose strands of perfect raven gently pooling over his broaden shoulders, gently brushing along the supple skin of your face.

"That's dangerous to do in the middle of battle you know, sweetness" he tilts his head ever so slightly to the left, lidded eyes of complete focus and soft malice intently studying all over you. His long fingers carefully skim against your soften flesh, slowly mingling in between your own digits with sly advances.

"One wrong move and that'll be it angel...haven't I taught you better then this?"

[soranker]

hi….! any chance we can see your art process ? it’s fine if not! i was wondering if u do a sketch before your lines or you just skip directly to lineart? your art is very beautiful!

HI!!! AUGGHHHJHH THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH T__T my art style is kinda simple imo so my process is pretty bare-bones ^^;; there's not rly much too it!! it also kinda changes depending on how uhhhh lazy im feeling in the moment HAHA

probably around half of my drawings are straight to line art bc they're rly just doodles or things i decide to draw without any planning (but also im kinda impatient so i try to skip the sketching step if i can LOL...). but if i DO have a specific pose in mind for a drawing, i'll start with a sort of mannequin sketch or loose pass, then depending on how messy it is, ill either do the lineart pass on the layer on top or duplicate the sketch and then clean it up.

and then my coloring process is not sophisticated at all i just create a new layer and then paint bucket tool away LMAOOOO

here's an example of a drawing where i did sketch first ^_^

[onboardsorasora]

In his hotel room that night, Daniel thinks back to the interview he just had with the two most notorious men in the world. More than half of it was unusable, just lots of muffled sounds and--

It had started with a joke online that he (no one important) would love to interview the infamous Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton. Two men famously in hiding in a country with no extradition but chronically online. Someone had reached out to him and he thought it was fake, a scam.

He'd eventually found himself in a place he couldn't name in front of the men who were way hotter in person than fugitives had any right to be.

The interview was stilted, impersonally. Max had almost refused to answer any questions and Lewis had been teasing him. Daniel had been annoyed because why bring him all the way out here to sit in a room and stare at each other.

Max had snorted and said he didn't trust him to not have a wire.

"Mate, your guys searched me before I came in here. Y'all took my phone for 24 hours and I only got it back when I came in this room. If I was wearing a bug, you'd know." Daniel had pointed out.

"he has a point." Lewis shrugged. Max pressed his lips together. And Daniel stood with a roll of his eyes.

"I mean you clearly don't trust the people around you to do a good job." Daniel pulled off his shirt and unbuckled his pants, smirking when Max looked like he was finally paying attention. "if you want me to get naked then all you had to do was say so."

He stripped to his briefs and stood in front of them with his hands out as if to say 'well?'

"all of it." Max nodded for him to continue. Lewis bit his cheek but didn't refute.

With a waggle of his brows and confidence he kinda sorta felt, Daniel dropped trow. Throwing his brightly coloured briefs onto the pile of clothes. "Do you want me to spread my cheeks and cough too?" He teased.

And well, Max had done a thorough job of 'inspecting'. And then Lewis had helped and there was lube and come everywhere and Daniel forgot his phone was recording and he didn't get dropped off at his hotel til three days after.

[jenna-louise-jamie]

thinking about yassen gregorovich instead of sleeping (because i love him) and how he is a catalyst. yassen stabbs ash -> ash kills john rider -> ian rider raises alex -> yassen kills ian rider -> mi6 blackmails alex into becoming a teenage spy.

i have so many thoughts that i can't properly articulate. obviously this is a simplified chain of events, but yassen and his choices set off a chain reaction of the world's most unfortunate dominos. especially when you read russian roulette. to be clear im not necessarily trying to blame him for everything because that feels very mean. he was also just a 14 year old kid when everything in his life went wrong, just like alex. only difference being yassen literally had no one.

i think i should write an essay about this because i haven't even gotten into my thoughts about what yassen and alex's dynamic would look like past eagle strike. i would imagine it'd be similar to ellie and joel from the last of us part 2.

where obviously yassen loves alex and alex on some level cares for yassen back but struggles to reconcile that with the fact that yassen is responsible for his uncle's death. a very unforgivable act. it would be so messy and complicated and angsty, because on one hand here is an adult who truly cares about him and has a connection with him through his father. yassen could tell alex about john, and trust that yassen truly wants whats best for him. but he killed ian, and he cannot take that back.

while alex reels from those feelings, yassen is also trying to reconcile his love of alex with the knowledge that he on some level is responsible for the suffering alex endured at the hands of mi6. and possibly even the fact that alex's godfather is the one who killed john and helen.