#shrugging face

[ford-owner]

ive seen a few people saying they can smell the big top burger in my art and while im a passive enjoyer of btb this is my truth . yeah

[prlssprfctn]

Bruce and Jason, who accidentally fix their relationship in a relative secret and distance from the rest of the family (Alfred excluded, of course), and decide to keep this fact as a secret from the rest of the family, just for fun. Because, let's be honest, Bruce is no less a brat than Jason is, he is just better at hiding it the older he gets.

Dick, sighing: Listen, I am about to invite Jason to this family dinner. And I don't care if you want it or not! And if you try to sabotage this day by your moral code lectures, I'll have a word with you! Bruce, indifferent, while messaging Jason at the same time: Mhm.

(On the other part of Manor) Tim: Honestly, I am not giving you a choice here. You will come to this dinner, Jason. Just... just ignore Bruce, alright? Jason, dramatically huffing, while liking Bruce's messages: Yeah, yeah, WHATEVER! Alfred: ...My circus. My monkey. I shall stay collected, nevertheless.

Damian: Father had been disappearing after patrols lately. I can't track him... What do we think is going on? Is he found himself a new child he plans to adopt soon? We can't get another sibling. Tim: Relax. He is probably into a new woman. Or a man. Whatever. Dick, worried: Guys, what if it is another villain or rogue? Jason, with whom Bruce spends time after patrol by munching fast food on the skirts of town: ...Lol Damian: That's not funny, Todd. Barbara, who knows everything: ...It is funny. Dick: Babs!

Tim: You know, Jason had been surprisingly chill lately. I knew he was doing better, but he stopped avoiding Manor that much. Bruce, arching his eyebrows: Alright? Tim: Do you think... maybe you two can finally talk? And fix your mess? Bruce, who just came to the cave after reading session with Jason, hiding his smile behind a sad face: I don't know, chump. It is complicated.

Dick, calling Jason randomly: Urgh, B is such a bitch! Jason, gasping: Right? Tell me about it! Bruce, sighing from his side of the couch as Jason puts The Crown show on his television: ...

[shotmrmiller]

ps!ghost is very interested, to put it mildly. can't seem to stop re-watching your debut video that was released a week ago. it's always the same premise. black leather couch casting. nice little bird in a modest dress or shirt and jeans who gets undressed because the "director" has to take in measurements and the like, only to end up getting railed from the back with their pretty face pressed into the cushion.

it's a thing male viewers like. they love to watch a professional break in the new girl. he, though, not so much. he doesn't go for the new girls. doesn't like to be the one to test the limit like others do. (big cock anal on their debut? ghost finds it a bit much.) he hears one tiny gasped ouch and he's not finishing the shoot.

no, what gets him going is the enjoyment one can get during sex. it's why he ended up in this business in the first place. he likes sex. a lot.

likes to have men, women, young and old alike writhing beneath him gasping his (stage) name due to the pleasure and not because a script said to. and the benefits of working in the porn industry means that he gets paid doing what he likes, and can stay safe while doing so.

this is where you come in. the only reason he'd sat down to watch your video at all is because you'd been given a contract by the same company he is under. he's bound to come across you at a later date, might as well learn what he'll be eventually working with.

and he's hooked. whatever initial nervousness you might've had at the very beginning (because this is your very first professional shoot, of course) bleeds from your shoulders once price, the lucky bloke, gets his hands on you. you're a bloody natural.

and you enjoy it. there's no faking the way your nails bite into price's scalp when he licks at your pussy through your thin knickers. you gently wrap your hand around his fingers that's rolling your hardened nipple, giving it a gentle squeeze. he's doing it too rough. you buck your hips into his face, riding it even though you're the one on your back.

ps!ghost has to swallow the mouthful of saliva when he notices strings of creamy white sticking to price's body hair, a frothy ring around the root. the best part of all of this, is that you're giving as good as you take. you're no passive participant. you could, under price's big bulk, just get folded in half and do nothing other than feel the sweet burn of his cock stretch you, turn you inside out.

but you don't. you know exactly what you like and how you like it. you look for your orgasm, make sure it happens under your manicured fingers or price's thick ones. you don't let him be too rough on you nor too gentle.

simon loves it. you're new to this. you could've just accepted what he gave you without so much as a peep of complaint and gone home to soak in an epsom salt bath. but you didn't. you didn't let him pinch your sensitive clit, didn't let him mindlessly claim a fistful of hair.

but you did open your pretty mouth so he could spit in it (fucking lovely, it was) and let him keep your soft hips in the air as john's pace turned frantic and the best of all (in his very biased opinion) you crossed your ankles around his waist to keep him there as he fucked you full of his come.

(had simon been there, he would've begged for a taste if he had to.)

he feels a bit desperate, after. can't get you out of his head. the thought of your slick pussy hot around his cock is what gets him to finish at times. the other times, it's your video. he swears he's found his equal (sorry, soap) one that'll forget that he's supposed to be putting on a show for the viewers.

sorry price, he's about to unfuck him out of your pussy until all it'll ever remember is simon.

(what he doesn't understand is that he's about to forget more than the viewers. why is price watching yall again? it's almost intimate the way you let him fuck you on a creaky mattress. he's drunk on the smell of you, your hair, your cunt. lost all thought when his fat cock slid with relative ease into your wet heat and all he'd done was let you make yourself come on his fingers and tongue as many times as you'd pleased. you'd latched onto his neck, maybe out of habit or whatever, it doesn't matter. he'll be telling the makeup artists to leave the bites you left. he earned every single one. and where he usually pulls out because it's easier to clean up for everyone? you'll not be wasting a single drop. it appears he has a lot bit of a breeding kink.)

[offkilterkeys]

Guys if I compile all my Jake English panels edits I can make a crude montage of something roughly resembling an arc.

[ernest-shackleton]

Wishing everyone a splendid Shackleton Shrug Sunday

[time-slink]

painting warmup— grian as the angel of the waters statue in central park :D

[byler-alarmist]

Bitch I know that librarian was happy to provide a rendezvous point for lesbians, based on the way she excitedly handed Ronance the keys and told them to have fun

[shuploc]

Ai art?

Are you fucking joking?

Sorry, no, it is not and I find it so disrespectful you would even think to ask that. I have not and will NEVER touch anything AI related ever in my life, I think it's so utterly pointless and destructive and it frankly makes me wanna kill myself.

So no, it is not and never will be, and you can safely hold that to me for the rest of my existence. I really hope this is the last time someone asks me this.

[warpedwings]

Misha Collins trying to motivate us.

[antoine-dcoolette]

💃

[pancharts]

[prlssprfctn]

In his new room - in his new house - Jason searches up for a circus performances and stares at them for hours. First, he watches at them mindlessly, unconsciously curious, and then, he starts to take notes.

He is a street kid, and everything about him screams of that. So, he is nowhere near the grace of these performers on the screen. His arms are not that strong, too, but he is agile, and his legs are much stronger - he can think of something.

He can be just as good as the boy he is replacing.

It is not like someone tells him to match Richard Grayson, and it is not like someone admits that Jason is here to replace the first Wonder Boy, but Jason heard Bruce's conversation with Dick earlier. It was meant not for his ears, but it doesn't matter now.

"So, now what, you exile me, and bring a boy to replace me?!"

Jason is not mad. All of it ‐ adoption papers, the manor, the school - is much more than he ever thought he would get in his life. Being replacement doesn't sound as bad anyway; especially, if his brother is so cool.

So, he makes notes on circus performances and slightly chopes his hair. They are much curlier than Dick's - he has more of a wavy ones, and the only ever look that way, when they get long; his childhood photos with short hair looks too straight - but the cut does its magic.

The next day, Bruce compliments his hair absentmindedly and is positively surprised by his new moves on the patrol, asking where he learnt it from. Jason lies about not remembering, but his cheeks are flashed, and his smile is all about teeth. He can't wait to show it to Dick once they finally get on a mission together.

Expect, when they do, Dick just nods and mutters a light-hearted "good job" before leaving to talk with his team. And Jason knows Dick doesn't want to be mean - he gets it; no one feels good about having a replacement, especially the one that seems so cheap in comparison - but he still cries that night in his pillow, feeling himself a little kid, even if he isn't one. Even if he never was.

Jason wonders if his own replacement would make him understand Dick.

But Jason never gets replaced.

No matter the taunting voice of the Lazarus Pit in the back of his head - that sometimes sounds suspiciously like Talia's; you remain unavenged and replaced - and his own intrusive thoughts that spiral in uneven lines, Jason doesn't think Tim was ever meant to be his replacement. Being replaced means to match the person that was meant to be left behind. And no one asked Tim to be like Jason.

If anything, memory of Jason was thrown under the rag, hidden and locked securely in heads of those who survived. And if they brought Jason up, then it was always an example of what Robin shouldn't do: run away, disobey, and allow emotions to consume you. So, not much of an exemplary original. More like an opposite.

Jason feels an urge to explain that to Tim once; when they sit together on the rooftop, almost like a proper family, instead of broken pieces of someone's idea of a one.

'You could never replace me,' he says, and the instant it leaves his mouth, he knows it came out wrong.

Tim rolls his eyes.

'Yeah, dude. Whatever.'

'No, I mean—' He grits his teeth, scrapping slightly the back of his hand. 'I mean... You could never replace me, because... Because you were always better.'

Tim freezes. His big blue eyes shift in something more confused, and it is almost as if he is not sure how he needs to react — to protest? To agree? To thank him?

Jason doesn't know what to do, too.

He wants to say: it is easy as that, babybird. They wanted to have someone who would have nothing in common with me — someone who could help them to forget about my existence, about the existence of the failed Robin.

But he can't make himself speak again. And he is not sure he wants to stay any longer to hear Tin manging to put his thoughts in the words; he is better than him at this, too, and he almost always sounds convincing.

So, he leaves.

In his room - in the building he owns now - he ruffles his outgrown hair, fluffs up the white streak, and passes by his only remaining photo with Bruce in the frame, on the shelf under the stolen tire.

He still does this semi-circus move in his fights - almost frozen in the air, with his back arched - but he doesn't expect anyone to compliment him anymore.

[drulalovescas]

Right.

[vaguely-concerned]

the way lucanis immediately and oh so innocently counters davrin's suggestion that he could make the step up to something stronger than coffee with 'like gingerwort tea?' and davrin capitulating gracefully on the spot makes me think that once davrin and rye returned from their trip (in both senses of the word) in the arlathan woods, davrin went straight to lucanis in the pantry and dropped rye directly into his lap like 'here you make some sense of your mans he's been gently giggling and making skeleton puns the whole way home. also he said something about wanting pancakes and that no one makes them right except you. and also about fifty times that you smell sooo good and your hands are nice but I'm taking that one to my fucking grave there's gotta be a limit for everything'

[evergreen-endo]

hi. i'm thinking about how amused takiishi would be by watching you edge endo.

unedited. wc: 492. gn! reader, no pronouns used.

takiishi thinks it's really pathetic how endo whines and whimpers and he can't understand why he just...lets you do this. he's acting like he's in pain but his cock is leaking. he's...curious, tilting his head and watching you with wide eyes as you work endo, once again, to the brink of an orgasm before tearing your hand away and giggling as tears form in his eyes.

it actually has takiishi's cock stirring in his pants too, not that he notices. he's too busy taking in the scene before him; the twist of your wrist, the flush on endo's cheeks and sweat on his skin, the look of concentration on your face. takiishi is trying to figure out how you know when to pull your hand away at just the right moment to have endo thrashing beneath you, annoying whiney sobs escaping his lips.

he has plenty of time to watch and observe as you deprive endo of his pleasure for another 20 minutes, as if takiishi isn't even in the room. but the longer you go, the more desperate endo becomes, and it gets harder for chika to tell what the warning signs are when he's constantly moving and pleading for you to just please let him cum.

the squeak of the leather couch below him and a few taps of his heels on the ground, and his figure looms over the both of you, eyes locked onto endo's teary ones.

"how can you tell?" his tone is cold, and you know the words are directed at you although his eyes are raking down endo's heaving frame. you hear him whimper under chika's gaze and land a light slap on his cock.

"tell...when he'll cum?" you wonder, tilting your head up as your wrist continues to twist. "ah...there's sort of a...pulse? here." squeeze. "...wanna feel?"

takiishi blinks once, twice, before he nods, placing a cold palm over yours and wrapping it around as you wriggle your hand out to let him get a good feel. endo gasps, keening and arching his back. it's not long after that a harsh smack echoes in the space between the three of you, pink prickling up onto endo's cheek in the shape of a handprint as takiishi's free hand resumes a devastatingly slow pace.

it's then that he notices all the signs; the shake of his thighs, clench of his tummy, shallow breaths beneath his ribcage and finally, the pulse at the base of his cock. takiishi sneers at the sight of hope in endo's eyes fizzling out as his hand slips off his cock and lets it slap pitifully against his stomach, smeared with precum and droplets of sweat.

a glimmer lights up his eyes, a quick exhale of air through his nose. hooking a finger into the side of your panties, he tugs, endo's eyes widening at his words, "I'll take it from here if you shut him up."

[ashlynniis-bracketeers]

...So that shot of his new bite super, huh?

YEEEEES PEEPAW BITEBITEBITEBITEBITEBITEBITEBITEBITEBITEBITE ENGAGE IN VIOLENCE VIOLENCE BITING