#lil brother <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[shh-its-cass]

ヾ( ･ᗜ･ )

✎﹏﹏ Cassandra Cain-Wayne

ദി(｡•̀ v<)

“I'm not...doomed...to be bad…I am...a bat. This…is where I should be.”

Ooc: This is a RP account

I will do my utmost to be in character…so…be nice T^T

I also use Cass to finish lyrics. I think she (because I do it) latches onto finishing sentences when she 100% knows them, because it makes her feel included in the talking.

My Cass is Bi and Demi

((I don’t wanna make a blackbat/orphan account, just gonna use this one))

Other blogs I run:

Interact if you want to, and ask for translations if needed. Byee ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

[shh-its-cass]

@jason-peter-todd-harper

two more from twitter!

(you can still request a doodle if you want! :))

[managone16]

Sirius: Hey reggie, pass me my cig box will you? Regulus: *taking out a box from his pocket* Here, have one of mine. Sirius, baffled: what, you smoke?! Regulus: No, I keep them in my pocket to fucking snack on.

[palettepainter]

Still tryna figure out how I draw him, I think I draw his legs too big and his neck too long but either way, he's fun to doodle!

[flowerakatsuka]

LET'S HEAR IT FOR OUR NEETS!!

[crumplstiltskin]

sukuna got him that jacket

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Some of my favourite Sonic Movie Marathon doodles

[jestroer]

Happy 25th Birthday Techno

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Dallas' head snaps back, and he stumbles with the force of an unexpected hand on his shoulder. For the briefest moment, he goes entirely limp, lets his fist hang in the air and doesn't try to scramble back to the boy on the steady retreat in front of him.

Darry's got him. And if he'd thought it through for even a second longer that would have scared the shit out of him. But then the fingers are tearin' into his jacket and forcin' him backward and he finally whips his head around and realizes the reality: two very pissed cops have got him.

And he immediately starts fightin' again. He writhes in their grip and the kid he'd been whalin' on is suddenly skitterin' back with renewed fear. Dallas bares his teeth once and figures he's made his point.

The next ten minutes are a blur.

His heart is poundin' in his ears and he can feel his pulse as it rattles under the cuffs the cops slapped on him the second they could get his wrists within a foot of each other and his head is achin' and he realizes for the first time he tastes blood but he can't focus on anythin' because all he can think is Fuck, Darry is never gonna forgive me for this.

He says it all the time. When he rolls in an hour late and thinks Darry's gonna kick my ass. Or when he lets Pony have just a little too much of his beer and the kid's gigglin' fit to wake the dead when Dallas 'n him sneak back in. Or when he hauls off and picks stupid fuckin' fights for no reason.

But this time he means it.

He groans and drops his head to his hands in the little holdin' cell they have him waitin' in until they process him. Last night's argument flashes vaguely in stills through his mind. He wasn't comfortable with people... carin'. He just didn't know what to do with it.

You can't tell me what to do, Darrel. Dallas flew up from the kitchen table and paced wildly away from Darry. Pony watched him with wary eyes. Soda bit his lip and looked at Dallas like he was tryin' to tell him a hundred things Dally didn't know how to understand.

Yes, I can. I won't have you actin' a fool and gettin' yourself hurt. Darry frowned and he's got these lines in his forehead Two jokes he never had before Dallas moved in. Dallas can't stand to see them.

You're not my brother. And you're not my dad. I ain't never had no one tellin' me what to do in my whole life and I'm not about to let you start. He'd slammed the screen door and gone straight to Tim's, started a fight, wound up at Buck's 'n drank til he vomited, woke up this mornin', and started another.

Darry was goin' to throw him to the fuckin' curb and never talk to him again. And Dallas deserved it. He wasn't one of the Curtis boys. No matter how hard he wanted to be.

"Name?" A cop had reappeared in his cell and he kicked himself for missin' it.

"Curtis." Dallas opened his mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. "Fuck. No, sorry." Since when the fuck did he apologize to cops! "It's Winston. Dallas Winston."

The man just stared at him, Curtis already written across the top of the paper in big, bold letters. "Are you sober, kid?"

"Yes, I'm fuckin' sober! My name's not Curtis. How the fuck do you not know me?" To his horror, he feels hot tears in the back of his throat. He's just some no-good juvenile delinquent every bastard officer in this town knows by name except this one apparently because all he is is trouble. And Darry hated him.

"Sure, kid." The man shuffles his papers together. "Officer Matthews has already called your- big brother is it? He's on his way."

"He's not my brother!" And now he's actually cryin' which is bullshit! Who cares! Who cares that Darry is gonna look at him just like his father did. Like he was a burden he'd do anythin' to get rid of. Like the worst thing Dallas ever did was simply show up in his life one day. Dallas is used to this. He's not someone who stays. He was meant to be left. He's a violent dog. He only knows how to bite.

"Dallas?" Darry's voice makes him jump. He doesn't pull his hands away from where they're pressed so hard into his eyes that he sees stars. He can't bear to look up and see what he already knows he will—not hatred, but cold, cold indifference.

"Out." Darry isn't talkin' to him, Dallas can tell he's turned around by the way his voice bounces back to him off the cement walls. He flinches anyway. "Please." He adds like an afterthought and Dallas hears the door open and close.

"I'm goin' to touch you, ok?" Dallas doesn't say anythin', just makes a low noise in the back of his throat. He feels Darry gently tip his head back, eyes still squeezed shut. He feels him softly check the area on his jaw he knows will bruise tomorrow and run experimental fingers along his ribs for breaks. Dally hisses once and Darry immediately pulls back.

"Oh, Dallas." And suddenly Dallas is fuckin' cryin' again. Darry sounds so tired and worn down and old. Did Dallas do that? Did Dallas make him like that? And the sob that catches in his throat makes him choke.

But then he's pressed against Darry's chest and his hands are strong on Dalla's back and in his hair and Dallas doesn't even fight it. Just lets himself be held and doesn't even mind he feels as small as Ponyboy.

"Come on, Dallas Curtis. Let's go home."

[twilightakiishi]

ran as that one winnie the pooh pic and rindou being fed up with his annoying ass brother

[shh-its-cass]

@jason-peter-todd-harper

💤 ⤴️ Soon. 👌❔

[seldompathic]

"I missed you."

[xxlady-lunaxx]

sanemi had always memorized his siblings’ birthdays. he knew them by heart, and, every year, did what little he could manage when the days came. for the most part, he found time to bring something to their graves, sitting properly in front of them and laying the things he brought down. but now the year had started again and genya’s birthday made its yearly appearance—right around the beginning of january. he wasn’t dead (thank god), and sanemi couldn’t bring himself to actually celebrate, not in front of genya. so the most he could force himself to do was somehow sneak some money into genya’s pocket when he was sleeping or something along those lines. but the thing was—for some time now, genya had been staying at gyomei’s house. sanemi couldn’t exactly sneak into there without gyomei catching him. also, genya had a bunch of friends now, and they were crowding him today, having heard from gyomei that it was genya’s birthday. therefore: sanemi was stuck.

it took some time, but sanemi managed to squeeze in a quick sparring session with gyomei between his missions, and the two fought as the children chattered happily inside the stone estate. after they finished, sanemi, who had gladly taken advantage of gyomei’s lack of vision, took out the parcel containing genya’s gift. it was just food—ohagi and some matcha tea—so that sanemi could subtly place it somewhere where genya would find it, and it would pass off as a gift from literally anyone. the only trouble he had was writing. he’d had to make sure genya knew it was for him, so he ended up searching for someone who didn’t know him to tell him how to write happy birthday. after he’d successfully scrawled down the characters (who cared how messily they were written?), he stuck it in one of the folds of the wrapped package and brought it with him on his way to the training grounds.

accepting gyomei’s suggestion to get water, after they’d finished training, sanemi slipped inside, scouring the halls for somewhere he could put the gift. for now, he tucked it under his arm, going to get himself some much needed water. as he passed the room with genya and the others, he found the door slightly ajar. peeking through, he squinted, gazing at the clutter of their joy.

likely hearing him, zenitsu, the louder, blond one, turned to the door in question. a bit tired out from the sparring and not necessarily caring if they saw him (since they likely knew he’d been training with gyomei), sanemi allowed himself to be spotted. surprised, zenitsu’s eyes widened and he stiffened. these drew immediate interest to the door, and someone—tanjiro, the bastard—slid it all the way open. sanemi managed to hide the package behind his back as he narrowed his eyes in a glare inclusive to everyone. the group seemed confused, and mildly perturbed by his presence.

“is everything alright, shinazugawa-san?” tanjiro asked curiously, tilting his head.

sanemi grunted, gaze sweeping briefly to genya, who looked increasingly nervous. “sure,” he huffed. “you guys were making so much fucking noise, i’m surprised himejima let you stay.”

“i’m sorry, shinazugawa-san,” kanao murmured, bowing slightly. she had remnants of a sincere smile from earlier left on her expression, and sanemi momentarily noted that, remembering how little she used to express herself. then he wondered what she was doing here, given genya’s inability to be near anyone female for long—before noticing the conspicuous way genya was positioned on the opposite side of the room as her.

“just be quiet,” sanemi allowed, finally. “it’s irritating.”

genya nodded quickly, and the others followed suit. “sorry, aniki,” he mumbled. “we’ll be quieter.”

he seemed to think sanemi didn’t know what they were doing. but, either way, sanemi left the room, shutting the door behind him. his hands were empty now, as he sought out water, and he smiled to himself, much satisfied. he’d managed to slip the gift beside the ones the others had brought, with the minor distraction they’d provided.

gyomei found him, a couple minutes later, and got himself some water.

“you’re leaving now?” gyomei confirmed, and sanemi nodded.

“yep. nice training with you.”

after all, he’d done what he’d set out to—and had gotten some beneficial training in the process. so he sent gyomei a smile he couldn’t see and headed home.

•

as genya opened his presents, the others having had to return to their training, his eyes caught on one in brown wrapping. it was more hastily done than the rest, and he wondered if inosuke had, in fact, given him something. picking it up, he gently tugged out a paper that had been tucked in. written with clumsy lettering were the words “happy birthday.” he was doubtful inosuke had gone and bothered to learn how to write just for his birthday, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who would’ve written like that. the others had pretty good handwriting, if not drawings (cough, tanjiro and the card he’d drawn).

opening the gift, he found ohagi and matcha, all tucked neatly inside. his suspicions of it being from inosuke immediately evaporated and his mind strayed back to when sanemi had interrupted them earlier. a large smile on his face, he bit into one of the mochi balls, his spirits rising where they were already high.

sanemi was truly the best aniki in the world.

[deadgutzmomo]

somno,, loser big brother / adoring little brother, probably cnc

older loser brother living in the basement, and the only person who can stand the smell is his youngest brother who just adores him, so it’s no big surprise when older brother gets attached to his visits. just waiting for little brother to come home so he can drag him down to the basement and show him this cool new movie he found!!, so what it’s a horror? big brother is right here so there’s no reason to be scared, so what when big brother convinces their parents to move little brothers bed into the basement, of course they make it into one big bed because older brother said ‘why have two small beds when we can have one big bed, we will just stay on our sides!’ so what when big brother smothers himself against his sleeping little brother, he’s just soft and warm when he’s asleep, so what when little brother starts rutting into the bedsheets at night moaning gently into his pillowcase, of course big brother is going to wrap his arms around his littles brothers waist and gently rock him into the bed harder, what kinda brother would he be if he left little brother to suffer?!, and if little brothers wakes up embarrassed about his sticky boxers big brother is right there to tell him it’s okay!!

[umbrellajam]

Tales of the Teen Titans #53 - Dick and Kory vs. Donna and Terry; very cute doubles match inside Titans Tower

Batman (Vol. 1) #468 - Tim practicing against a ball machine at Wayne Manor. Bizarrely, he's shown playing both left- and right-handed in different panels (but primarily left). Artist mistake Ambidextrous Tim evidence?!

[turtleblogatlast]

AU starts here!

Previous | Next

Coming face to face with an inevitability you’ve been avoiding for so long is a harrowing thing.