#let's just call it

[bingergrave]

Banging my fists on the walls of my enclosure Help me !

[peach-sea]

Part 1

Next | In order

[spikyhairedsilhouette]

‘ are you going to keep beating around the bush, 𝙘𝙧𝙮𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 ? ’

a confrontational ask || inspired by this || "anonymous"

A plethora of sarcastic sneers, each less mature than the last, circuit his mind as he tries to ignore both the unsavory nickname – one he thought he’d sentenced to death a long time ago – and the overt euphemism. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t bother to hold back, but they’ve been sparring for hours now and he’s physically exhausted, even if his mind still has plenty of gas in the tank. Why had he agreed to help her practice her long range combat? His foresight is legendary, ten times sharper than his hindsight, which far exceeds twenty-twenty or whatever the general standard… So why on earth had he found it agreeable to be out here, in the unmerciful, late afternoon Konoha heat, digging himself an early grave by dueling with this witch? 

His blurred vision bursts back into focus as his attention flickers to her wolfish gaze, black cherry lips, and the glaze of sweat coating her chest and soaking the neckline of her tank top. As feral and frenzied as she appears, he’s certain he must look even more unhinged, his face stinging and smeared with blood from the several kunai he failed to dodge while attempting to lock onto her all-but-formless shadow. She’d certainly not held back, treating his head like a human bullseye and slinging knives at him like an angry, vengeful housewife, darting around the field faster than the brutal sun’s rays could reach her. And the result is now etched into his skin, possibly forever. He imagines he must look a bit like his father, touched by the hand of war but without so much bravado. Still, he doubts if his father has ever faced a war like Her before. 

Her body trembles in an effort to thwart his control, as she grips the handle of the kunai, the blade an inch from her own throat. She’s mimicking his movements as though she were his mirror reflection, snarling at him from behind the glass like the summoned spirit of Bloody Mary, miserable and brimming with malcontent. She takes a few slow, conscious steps towards him, duplicating his own, shortening the gap between them as if in a western standoff. Upon closer proximity, he can see the utter exasperation in that cautionary stare, and he delights in the opportunity to further vex her. 

“Guess I should get to the point then.” The words spawn smoother than suede; unexpected, considering his ragged appearance. He’s not usually one for puns, but he can’t help but direct her arm to tease her neck with the sharp, steely tip, his eyes gradually drifting to the trace of collarbone peeking out from beneath her wild hair. Commanding her free hand, he compels her to pull the loose strands back, tucking them gently behind her ear the way one would a cherished paramour. Still shaking with defiance, she positions the blade at the opposite side of her neck, her arm crossing in front of her and snapping back swiftly as the knife completes its cut with an elegant flair. 

He relishes her momentary befuddlement as she glances down at the self-inflicted, sheared fabric of her shirt strap, her eyes returning to his with a new kind of contempt. He suppresses a laugh, reconsidering that early grave, as it might prove a place of respite for him soon. The sun would be down in little more than an hour, and then his shadow tactics would be nearly useless to him. Might as well go out with a bang. 

He rolls his wrist, twisting his fingers to conduct the knife still in her hand, twirling it skillfully before slipping it beneath the one remaining strap, the cool metal brushing against her shoulder and gathering goosebumps. Pausing, he raises his eyebrows at her, savoring the beautiful condemnation reflected back at him, a humorless visage concealing the faintest hint of fear. How cute. Tugging the blade slightly, he tempts the material and, with her as his conduit, feels the tension between the two increase and threaten to split. He smirks boyishly, gloating, unable to contain his satisfaction at the delivery of this checkmate. “Shall I continue…?”

[bruciemilf]

Need a teen! Bruce au where he’s exactly like Justice League! Batman and Battinson in one. That mf put the fear of every god in Ra’s Al Ghul.

Everytime he’s in a room with someone over 30 “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance plays in the background.

Despite that, in his own way, he’s as gentle as can be with his league. Give me a young Diana who’s getting spat on and ripped apart by the media in a way not one of her male teammates get.

And she’s Wonder Woman. She shouldn’t be affected by it. And she is, anyway. Bruce relates to that in an uncomfortable degree.

“When I first became Batman, weak men tried standing in my way, too. “

“And what did you do?”

“I stepped over them.”

He has a tiny Robin he occasionally has to keep on a leash.

Give me somewhat teen mom Bruce who struggles to wrangle his unruly six year old who likes flipping from rooftop to rooftop and thinks fighting Bane is a piece of cake.

“If Tati can do it, so can I!”

“Dick,” he paused, before handing him a handfull of candy. “Wonderful emotional manipulation. Good job.”

“:D”

[everwalldigan]

I love the idea of all the robins kinda being clones of each other with just a few differences and a concussed Bruce not being able to tell who he’s squinting at so he just says generic statements and avoids saying any names

Bruce (sitting at the breakfast table): so… how’s the weather… dick?

Jason (grinning): you do know I’m gonna hold this against you for like, the next 2 months right

Bruce: (groans into his hands)

Bruce (walking into the living room): hey have you read through the files I gave you yesterday?

Dick: (confused cause he took a day off to surprise Bruce) ?

Bruce: so?

Dick: er… no?

Bruce: Dick?? What are you doing here?

Bruce (walks into the kitchen with a fresh concussion): Jason? I thought you were on a mission with the outlaws?

Tim: (frozen through mid fridge raid, having assumed they were past Bruce calling him Jason since yk. He’s a shit brickhouse now and Tim is, well, obviously not): uh?

Bruce: *turns around and leaves*

Bruce: Oh hey Cass, when did you arrive from Babs’?

Damian: (slowly turns around in the black hoodie he’s wearing) we’re not even the same gender

Bruce: (under his breath) yeah but the same height

[gongyussy]

"we know how to move our bodies, but i didn't know how to manage my heart, so you need help for this"

hi we need to talk more about judo gold medallist christa deguchi.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Mike can’t handle Abby in the next FNAF movie..

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s home.

Which means he’s glued to your side.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two of you are in a local bookstore, the shop having caught your eye while out on a stroll together, each of you going to your respective shelves to find your preferred genres.

Simon grabs the first novel he thinks sounds interesting, quickly snatching the book by its spine so that he can cross the few steps back to your side.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices how closely you’re holding a book up to your face, your own eyes squinting at the back cover.

“Havin’ trouble there, love?” He asks as he approaches.

“Can’t believe I let myself run out of contact lenses.” You reply, trying your best to decipher the blur of black ink on the pages.

“Could’ve worn your glasses.” He retorts, something he’d already suggested more than once since you ran out of your contacts and had to order new ones.

“You know I only like wearing them at home.”

“But you’re so cute in ‘em.”

“Yeah well, you’re the only one who thinks so.” You mumble under your breath, though Simon hears it of course, the crease in his brow deepening.

“Wha’s that supposed to mean?” He gruffs out.

“I just got teased a bit in school was all Si, typical kid stuff. Just stuck with me I guess, but it’s fine, I have my contact lenses.” You explain to him.

Simon considers your words for a moment, the gears evidently turning in his head, muscular arms crossed over his large chest.

“And do we know where these fuckin’ tossers are at now?”

“Oh my god Simon, don’t-”

“Have we got any names to work with?”

“That is not-”

“Any addresses?”

“You are not about to-”

“Pictures?”

“I was like ten years old-”

“S’alright lovie, we’ll dig up your yearbooks when we get home.” He simply says, plucking your book from your hands and heading towards the register to pay.

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[war-forged-storms]

There’s something so fun about casual inspection with subs who are needy all the time.

Like walking up to them and asking if you can take a quick peak and immediately seeing them go red. Pulling the waistband of their underwear away from their skin and peaking in, seeing aroused parts all needy and desperate, clearly turned on long before I even spoke to them, seeing how flustered and embarrassed they get. Getting permission to reach in and feel how hard or wet or desperate they are, licking my hand afterwards to taste how much they were thinking of me. Asking if I can feel their chest and having my thumbs find hard nipples, desperate to be tweaked and pinched. Getting to hear desperate whines, wanting me to touch them more so so badly, but I just walk away, leaving them even more desperate than before.

I’d love to repeat the cycle over and over few hours and see just how worked up I can get them before I relieve them.

[wombywoo]

retired 🩶

[randomfandomisuppose]

I just had a DPxDC crossover idea that I thought was funny.

What if every time John Constantine sold his soul he was basically agreeing to being “adopted” by the entity he was selling his soul to.

He thinks all of the entities he sold his soul to are leaving him alone because they’re too busy fighting/have a truce to not fight as long as none of them claim his soul, meanwhile he’s got like a dozen or so ghost/demon parents ready to go to court to fight for custody when he finally dies.

Danny, having been taken in as a ward by an older ghost since he technically counts as a baby ghost until he’s 100 or something, meets Constantine for the first time and is like: “Why are you 1/15th my brother?”

Bonus points if Danny is technically the big brother in ghost terms because he’s been a ghost the longest. Sure Constantine may be a little liminal but that doesn’t count he doesn’t even have a death day yet.

Like:

Danny (Certified little shit): “Baby brother why do you never come to dinner? :(”

Constantine, too sober for this: “The fuck did you just call me?”

Constantine vehemently denies any relation but they bicker like siblings.

[sugaredquillink]

your neighbor johnny is an avid reader…

soap request for @ceilidho <3

and a little bonus

[spark-circuit]

okay listen. i know there's already one video about The Fucking Creep out there. but i NEED to share one of my favourite Creep Moments.

[zorangezest]

thanks for listening

[hinamie]

7/3: pov u r nanami kento pleased that i managed to pull smth together in time for your bday