#since the fic is complete

[shrinkthisviolet]

i still love you (i promise)

T | 59k words | 10 chapters

“He sounds like a nice young man.”

“He is!” Morgan beamed. “He’s sweet and thoughtful…I get why Iris became friends with him. He…kinda reminds me of Ronnie, honestly.”

Barry and Morgan might still be in the early stages of friendship, but there's no doubt that they trust each other, if only because of their history as Flash and Sentry.

But what happens when that changes? When the trust shatters between them...Morgan's not sure how to feel, and Barry doesn't know what to do. Too bad the universe is intent on testing them anyway.

Taglist (send an ask or DM to be added or removed):

@ocappreciationtag @arrthurpendragon @vexic929 @thechaoticfanartist @raith-way @ironverseocs @goldheartedchaoticdisaster @thatmagickjuju

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[choccy-milky]

part 3 to my modern AU 💞🍺 (part 1 / part 2)

[justaz]

merlin told arthur his favorite color was the color of the sky during sunset when it shifted into a deep violet. arthur gets a tunic made in that exact shade. its the best thing merlin owns. arthur was hoping that would mean he’d wear it almost everyday but merlin almost never wears it. the only time he does wear it is when royals come to visit (which isn’t all that often). arthur “subtly” asks about it and merlin is like “it’s the best thing i own. i’m not gonna dirty it mucking out the stables or serving rowdy knights wine while they splatter food on it” and arthur is like “why not wear it when nobles come to visit? look at least a little presentable for them” (cough nice save). merlin doesn’t see the point in it bc nobles don’t care about him at best, view him as less than human at worst.

arthur really just wants to see his boyfriend servant in the tunic he had made for him (bonus points for sending a message that merlin is his. not that merlin seems to notice. man is too much of an idiot). merlin wants to preserve his favorite tunic and gift from his boyfriend king.

[chuusmuts]

imagine waking up nude beside your best friend, aether

mild nsfw at the end. writing this as a warm-up before i make a debut as a smut writer in this blog. also, to those who think you know me, no, you don't. not proofread.

edit:i just realised how shitty the grammar is so please ignore it.

you waking up beside your best friend!aether in a hotel room, completely nude after a long night of lovemaking. just like him, you don't remember a thing. though, the bruise marks on your breasts and the wetness between your inner thighs were enough proofs to confirm what happened last night. you're not going to lie that you do feel embarrassed seeing how nonchalant aether is about this, yet it quickly disappears when he pulls you into a hug, asking if you're mad and apologizing to you.

"you’re not mad at me, right?”

"no." you're not mad. you can't bring yourself to get mad, especially since he's always so nice and sweet to you.

eventually, you ask him how is he so calm about all this. but you found the answer right away after you buried your face into his chest, putting your ear near where his heart is located. he's not calm at all, his heart is pounding just as fast as yours. he's nervous, a lot more nervous than you. he's just putting on a calm facade so you wouldn't feel awkward around him.

he began to stroke your hair gently, lovingly before he spoke up, his voice softens even more, “i… i like you a lot. and last night… it was really great. i don’t regret a thing. you… made me feel so good last night.”

your cheeks flushed when he mentioned how good you made him feel. the fact that he didn't remember what happened last night, but remember how good he felt buried deep inside you make you feel shy.

but at the same time, you wish you could make him feel good again. "i wish we could do it again... sober. i was drunk, so i couldn't experience it properly..." your face was still resting against his chest, but you were pouting slightly. you're not a lightweight person, so it's really a shame you got drunk on a special night. (although, you wouldn't be making love with him if you weren't drunk since you'd be too busy dragging his ass home.)

his eyes seem to light up at your wish. he kisses the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair. you can feel his body heat up, and from his breathing, you can tell that he's not so calm and collected anymore. “... are you in the mood?”

a pair of curious eyes bore into aether's golden eyes. you want to do it again, but you don't want to tire him. and what if he sees you as someone who's desperate? especially since you just did it with him last night.

regardless of what you think of yourself, aether thinks you're too cute to look desperate. even if you are, you still look cute.

before the two of you realised, your lips connect with one another. a shiver runs throughout your body from how good his lips feel. your heart flutter and you can feel butterflies in your stomach as your hand found themselves on his soft cheeks.

aether’s ears turn bright red as he moves slowly on top of you, his lips never leaving yours. letting the duvet off of you and him, his warm, golden eyes look over you, taking in as much as he can. he moves his lips from yours, dragging his tongue along your neck and kissing every inch of you, emitting a content sigh from you.

he pauses and moves lower down on your body, gently kissing and sucking on your chest. his fingers run through your hair, carefully stroking you while his free hand grab and fondle with your breast, making you moan in pleasure. he doesn't intend on going rough, his priority is to pleasure you and he wants you to enjoy it as much as you can. aether smiles, his eyes twinkling as he sees the effect he has on you.

“i… i love you so much… you’re so pretty, and so cute… and just thinking about you makes me want you so bad.” he says before kissing your neck again.

he takes one of your hands and kisses up your arm, and puts it on top of his chest. “touch me… i wanna see how much i make you want me.” he whispers, his voice sounding needy.

[yaekiss]

𝑴𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝑵𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒙𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

꩜ Room Content: GN! Dom! Reader x Sub! Kaveh, no gendered terms for reader, no mention of reader's anatomy, handjob & blowjob (Kaveh receiving), praise (Kaveh receiving), lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: I've been thinking about writing something for Kaveh again lately so thank you pringles for sending in this prompt!! Also a huge thank you for waiting! Hope you enjoy the fic !! <3 ꩜ This was written for @xxpringlesxx as part of my Care for a Fic fundraising event for Gaza! If you would to request a fic of your own, do check out the event post above ^^

As he busies himself with washing the dishes after dinner (it’s his turn today), Kaveh hums along to the tune of that catchy love song that’s been popular in Sumeru lately, one that’s been stuck in his head all week. 

From where you’re seated, you can hear the water run and plates and glasses clink as he washes them and puts them away on a rack to dry. However, interspersed between the mundane noises and his light humming, you pick up frustrated huffs. 

Concerned for your lover, you crane your head over to look at him, and you see the problem. He’s constantly rolling his shoulders back and sharply tilting his head to each side, probably trying to pop a stubborn crick in his neck.

Making your way over to the kitchen, as you get closer, you can’t help but notice that his posture looks tense as he hunches over the sink. Mind processing, you recall him complaining about his latest commissions to you over dinner.

(“Can you believe the client even suggested that?” He sighs before lifting another spoonful of soup to his mouth.

“And don’t even get me started on the deadlines, dearest! I don’t know how I’ll survive this one without pulling a few all-nighters,” Kaveh all but wails. The soup doesn’t really make it into his mouth since he just sets the spoon back into the bowl so his hands are free to tug at his hair.

You laugh lightheartedly, take his hands out of his hair gently, then pick up his almost empty bowl of soup so that you can refill it. 

“You’ll need all the energy you can get then, I’ll get more soup for you. And I hope you’d still get some rest though, beloved,” you chide him softly.)

He hears you pop into the kitchen and he turns around to face you.

“Hey, just finished the dishes, do you need something from the drying rack?”

You shake your head, “Nope. I was just wondering if you wanted a massage, since you’ve been working hard and your shoulders are tense, is all.” 

Kaveh answers as he wipes his wet hands on a clean dry cloth hanging by the wall, his tone chipper, “That’ll be nothing but heavenly, thank you so much, dearest. Ugh, you don’t even want to know how much my shoulders have been killing me lately.” 

He allows you to lead him into your shared bedroom, where he promptly faceplants down onto the mattress, a tired muffled sigh leaving him. Reaching over to the bedside table, you pick up the tub of lotion in the drawer. Opening it, you look back down at Kaveh who’s still sprawled out prone on the bed and you sigh.

“Come on, don’t you think it’ll be better and easier for me without your shirt in the way?” He doesn’t answer but you know he heard you because of the way he kicks his legs, as if throwing a fit. 

“But I just got comfy,” he groans, his grumpy tone muffled by the mattress under him. Ultimately, he sits back up, pulls his shirt over his head, folds it quickly and sets it to a side, then flops back down onto the mattress, all in quick succession.

Clambering over him to straddle his lower back, you scoop a nice dollop of the lotion and spread it across the expanse of his back so that your hands can smoothly glide over his skin. You start from between his shoulder blades, where you rub it into his shoulders and take note of how tense his muscles are. While you work at the knots in his muscles, he relaxes more and more until he has practically melted and become one with the bed. 

Then gradually, your hands make their way down to his waist. When your thumbs dig into the area around the small of his back, he shivers under you, along with a low hiss. 

Unbeknownst to you, your beloved Kaveh lays pinned and squirming beneath your hands as he desperately tries to muffle the moans that itch to make their way out of his throat. He fights back the urge to buck his hips downwards, you were nice enough to help him wind down from a busy couple of days and yet here he is getting hot and bothered under your touch.

It’s not his fault that you’ve been running through his mind, who wouldn’t be enraptured by you? You’re the only thing keeping him sane in spite of his growing workload, his thoughts wandering to his dearest lover throughout these hellish days as a balm to soothe his weary soul.

The more he tries to tear his traitorous mind away from you, the more it conjures up increasingly scandalous fantasies of how this current situation could play out. What would you do to him? Tease him until he’s begging for his release, a full-body blush painted across his skin? Or perhaps the inverse, where you’d wring climax after climax out of him until he’s mumbling nothing but utter nonsense, limbless in your arms? How’d he love for your hands to drift further down his body, trail under the waistband of his pants to where he needs you the most.

Your voice snaps him out of his daze and drags him out of his daydreams.

“Done with your back, beloved. Flip around for me?” He hears you coo from above him as you move to sit on the bed so he can change his position and yet, hesitates to turn upwards and face you.

Mainly, due to the tightness in his pants right now.

“Hmm, Kaveh? What’s wrong?” The concern in your voice is evident and he tries everything to will away his hard-on until he’s confronted with the fact that he has no choice but to do as you say, lest he causes you to worry even more.

Slowly, he peels himself off the mattress on shaky hands while the tips of his ears are burning red. But before he flips over completely, he manages to mumble out a weak, “Um. Uh. Just don’t look down too much…”

When he’s finally done shifting positions, you’re able to see just how bright of a blush has settled on his face, his brows knitted together as he quickly moves his hands to the front of his pants. However, it’s too late and you’ve already caught a glimpse of what he’s trying to hide. (And really, the rumpled state of his pants aren’t helping his case.)

Kaveh knows that you’ve realised when a mischievous look flashes across your face, “Aww, why didn’t you just tell me? Just an innocent little massage and you’re already so worked up?” He didn’t know his face could get any hotter but it does when he recognises that you’re teasing him.

Fortunately for him, it seems like you’re in a merciful mood tonight as you drag your fingertips down past his navel, goosebumps rising on his skin along the path you trace out. When your fingers go to hook under his waistband, you ask, “Do you want this?”

Kaveh thinks he has never nodded this hard in his life.

Prying him free from the confines of his clothes, he’s already almost fully erect, to which you quickly fix. Wiping your hands of the remaining lotion still clinging to them, you procure a different container, a water-based lubricant this time, and slather it generously on your palms and fingers to bring it up to your body temperature. 

Wrapping a hand around his base, you stroke upwards in a fluid motion, making him jerk his hips up into your fist. Eyes squeezed shut, Kaveh hisses sharply when he feels your other hand snake up to his chest and flick at one of his sensitive nipples. 

Filthy slick noises fill the room as you take the time prying moan after moan from his lips and he looks utterly debauched lying under you. A messy halo of golden blonde hair frames his face aflame with colour and you sear this image of your beloved into your memory.

“Are my hands really that good?”

“Hnn… Ye-yes! More, please…!” He slurs, half out his mind.

The combined onslaught of pleasure proves to be too much for him as the telltale sign of his thighs tensing signals his oncoming release. Yet, just as he tips over the edge, you instantly stop your ministrations, pulling your hands away from him.

But before he can whine out in disappointment, you take him into your mouth. The sudden replacement of your hands with the warmth of your tongue takes him off guard and it rips a drawn out keen from the architect. Your hands rove around his body, alternating from pinching and toying with his chest to kneading at the muscles of his thighs and ass.

“Absolutely lovely, beloved. I’m so lucky to have such a hard worker, someone so kind and earnest in everything that he does,” he moans unabashedly at your praise, head pressed back hard against the bed as he tries to hold himself back from coming too soon. Unshed tears cling to his eyelashes as he blinks rapidly at the overwhelming sensations.

“Going to… hah! Need to-!” At this point, Kaveh’s mind has been reduced to mush, his fingers tangled in the bedsheets as he begs and babbles in between breathy pants.

“Go on, beloved, anything you want,” you coo, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh. When you lick up the underside of his shaft and take his drooling tip into your mouth, a hand twisting at the base whilst the other toys with his balls. His muscles lock up as his back arches off the bed and he cums with a shout. 

Stars dancing behind his eyelids, he moans when you press your lips to his and he tastes himself. His hand scrambles to find yours, fingers entwining as his thoughts fill with nothing except the love he has for you. 

When you break away from him, Kaveh sighs against your cheek, plastering kiss after kiss across your face. But you’re not done pampering him for tonight yet, and he knows this when you nibble at his ear.

“Looks like you’re still tense, how about we continue your massage, hmm?” 

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

If you'd like to request a fic of your own, do consider checking out my event post!

[harundraws]

so there's a fun new art meme going around....... OR what should've happened at that class reunion hotel rendezvous!! i thought drawing our favorite couple for it from the insane but delicious fanfic 'flirting with the line (and then i crossed it)' by @novelconcepts would be a fun thing to do!

👉🏼the link to novelconcepts’ post to the fic ✨

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[urfavcrime]

dsmp is still SO insane to me. still not completely convinced it wasn't a social experiment. it is something that can never be replicated again due to the really specific circumstances that attributed to it's creation and popularity

[salt-n-salt]

the sudden influx of sdv fics im seeing from moots and just seeing in general is changing something within me .. do i dare attempt to write a shane fic that encapsulates the weariness of both his aging body and plummeting mental health on top of the recurring reminder of the deaths of his two best friends and how the guilt he has no reason to feel cripples him and how horribly ill-equipped he is to care for a child who he can’t look at without being reminded of them. hm.

[artfulacrostic]

im back in a little kid with a big death wish moment and as always the descriptions of the turtle-ASL have me in a chokehold.

i am Not An Artist but i did take a class on making comics and this would not get out of my brain so i spent some time while sitting around waiting in the booth during tech this week to expel it from my skull. reference credit for turtle hand fingerspelling positioning to @ayspooky1 because i certainly had a brain freeze because i don't know how to draw anything let alone hands.

thank u @remedyturtles for writing turts that live rent-free in my brain, i think about your work constantly.

both (shitty marker) color and just ink bc idk which i prefer.

from little kid with a big death wish, Ch. 3, by @remedyturtles (@ remrose on AO3).

"Leo blinked rapidly and focused on the blur of red, offering Raph a half smile. He rubbed his fist on his plastron, sorry.

'You're good. Where'd you go?' Raph asked, and Leo was beginning to hate the kid-gloves way everyone talked to him all the time. He wanted to be better, he wanted to not be like this either.

And like hell he was about to tell his brothers about the ride-a-long in his head. He still didn't know if the aversion to the thought was his own. But either way, he felt it, and it was there.

The sign for 'hard' needed two hands. He was getting frustrated at his deficit in communication due to the throbbing lack of arm. He finger-spelled it instead. He wasn't entirely sure anymore why trying to verbally talk wasn't on the table. It was just... daunting.

Raph sighed, giving a soothing rub to his shell. 'We know it's hard. You're doing great.'

'You're killing it, bro.' Mikey mumbled.

'Way to remain attached to reality.' Donnie chimed in, voice utterly flat in a way that would be insulting if you didn't know him.

But Leo knew him, he knew all of them, and their support meant everything to him, especially now."

[gbirrd]

8/9 - Steph Brown tarot card designs for Complete Candor by @vexfulfolly as part of the @batfam-big-bang

Read the fic here!

Other cards:

1-Babs 2-Cass 3-Bruce 4-Tim 5-Damian 6-Jason 7-Duke 8-Steph 9-Dick

Image IDs

Image 1:

A design of the "Judgement" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "JUDGEMENT". A symbol of two clouds is visible behind the numeral "XX".

Steph Brown faces foward in her Spoiler uniform. She has pupil-less white eyes and is shrouded in purple smoke. There are a few stylised lilac-coloured clouds in the foreground, partially obscuring her. The bottom half of Cluemaster's face is visible in the background with a hand reaching to grab her.

Image 2:

A design of the "Judgement" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "JUDGEMENT" upside-down. A symbol of a rabbit and a wolf is visible behind the numeral "XX".

Steph Brown stands with her back turned in her Robin uniform. She is standing in a pool of blood. A large shadowy Batman is in the background. The lower half of his face is visible and his hand reaches out to grab her. The yellow bat on his chest fades into the blood. The entire card is upside-down.

[volivolition]

DAY 4: DRAMA - Put on your prettiest face for the masses!

gonna start adding silly captions actually. [POINTS ACCUSINGLY] MELTY FUCK (AFFECTIONATE)!!

[the-voldsoy]

it would be SO fun if at the next season finale when whichever characters are still alive are fighting the next Big Bad, Sam pops back through the portal at Hilltop Road (after months of silence and being assumed dead) and casually deals with it. And then the next season is just about whatever Sam and the Archivist were up to in the other dimension.

[lunalikestowriteanddraw]

Me, a fool: im gonna use Torbek for the “Used as bait” prompt :)

Episode 22: *Torbek makes/is the subject to a fucking “Master Baiter” joke*

Me:

Me: I am no longer using Torbek for this prompt

[deejadabbles]

Take a Ride (Rex x fem!Reader) Spice!

Summary: Rex had always had amazing thighs, but now there was only one fantasy you wanted to fulfill with them.

Fem reader, no mentions of physical description.

This is a 18+ content! Minors be gone!

A.N: So, after @littlemissmanga gave her analysis of Rex's armor in this post, I had way too many thots about how to abuse that armor. This is the result! Nothing but filth here folks. I sort of had a jedi reader in mind when writing this, but that's never explicitly stated, just has general "forbidden relationship" vibes.

Word Count: 3388

Warnings: Thigh riding, slightly dominant Rex, secret relationships, dirty talk, armor kink (sort of?), clothed male, praising, mutual masturbation, porn with minimal plot (riding Rex's thigh into the sunset. that's it. that's the plot)

Rex was a smart man. Observant, tactical, intuitive. And you were an open book to him.

Or at least, that’s how it felt whenever you locked eyes across the room. You didn’t have to spell out your desires to him, not now, not after so long of learning every inch of each other. He didn’t need you to bite your lip or bat your eyelashes, it was all there in the subtlety of your gaze, the rise of your chest, the clench of your fingers.

All he had to do was catch your gaze, and he knew what you wanted.

It was good, for so so many reasons, but paramount among them was the fact that you could hardly flirt so openly with him. The two of you had to learn to communicate with nothing more than the smallest of gestures, the shortest of glances. The only times you could truly call out to each other, beg for each other, demand each other, was in the stolen moments of a locked office or cheap hotel on Coruscant.

So really, it shouldn’t have come as a shock, that he could read your wants, when he caught you staring at something more specific than his whole (damn sexy) person.

No one could blame you. Rex always had amazing thighs, you loved biting them as you teased him mercilessly, loved gripping them when you had him moaning at your mouth, and you loved being tangled in them as he buried himself inside you. You had always loved his thighs, but this made something new flare in you, now that you had noticed a certain…detail in the new clone armor.

How had you never noticed it before? Every free moment you had near him was taken up with staring him up and down, knowing you’d never get your fill of him. You had memorized every inch of his body, gazed endlessly at the armor that kept him alive day after day.

So why had it only been when he pounded you from behind while in full armor that you noticed his tassets had ridges to them?

Your body throbbed at the memory, the way he had sought you out the moment he was back on the ship after weeks apart, the way he had ripped your clothes off with such desperate need, the way he took you hard and impatient.

It was only in that moment that you felt them digging in, the subtle little peaks cresting the full length of the armor piece. And now they were all you could think about. Rex had always had amazing thighs, but now there was only one fantasy you wanted to fulfill with them.

Rex was observant and tactical and intuitive. He knew all your subtle looks and gestures, so, it didn’t take him long to figure you out when you started staring at one part of him in particular.

The first time he caught you staring was during a briefing. To your credit, you were still listening to Anakin’s report, you were just also stealing glances because you were a skilled multitasker. You had been feigning contemplation, letting anyone who might look your way think that you were staring at nothing in particular, while you were actually focused on those little raised ridges. When you sensed you had been ‘gazing absently’ for too long, you made yourself look up- only to catch Rex’s eye.

He tilted his chin up just the slightest bit before looking away.

In the private language of your subtle gestures to one another, that might as well have been a knowing smirk. 

Of course, he knew you were thinking about him, but, he probably didn’t know exactly what you were thinking; besides general heat and need, right? Force, he probably assumed you were staring at his codpiece, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. The knowledge of your exact fantasy was safe.

But that was an assurance that became harder to hope for the second time he caught you staring.

You were helping him run drills, stopwatch pulled up on your bracer, clocking every trooper who ran Rex’s course. At first, Rex had been pacing along the end of the track, hands behind his back in an authoritative stance as he watched his men work. Then he stood to the side, hands on hips as he barked orders. If both of those hadn’t been distracting enough, then he had propped his leg up on a crate as he called for them to keep going and live up to the 501st standards. 

That did you in.

The way his thigh was level, lined like the perfect seat, was too much. Your mind was racing with the most impure thoughts, the ideas of what the hard, angled plastoid might feel like made heat fill you almost instantly. It just might be the perfect shape, slotting perfectly against your clit, between your folds. And with Rex being the one under that armor piece? Maker, you knew he’d buck and roll you perfectly against it, make sure it moved just right for the friction you’d crave and-

Kriff!

You almost- almost didn’t stop your watch in time when Fives came darting past you.

You could already feel the mess pooling in your panties, just the thought of it all making you wet- that would be fun to deal with for the rest of the drills. Somehow, you managed to keep your voice mostly steady when you called out Fives’ time, but, when you met Rex’s eye again, you knew you were caught. He held your gaze firm, a silent knowing passing between you, that he had heard the barely there shake in your voice. The stare was practically a smug scolding, reminding you that it would be a long time before you could change out of the sopping underwear. He allowed his gaze to slide south, glancing over your core as they turned to Fives. Something no one but you would notice.

Considering all the other times you had stolen glances at his thighs, you had thought that he wouldn’t make the connection, having only caught you twice. But you should have known better, you should have known he’d figure you out.

Once the drills were done and everyone was making their way out of the simulator, you trailed far behind everyone else, trying to get your breathing under control. Keeping your mind out of the gutter for the rest of the training had not been easy and you were ready to change into clean undergarments.

Until you passed an adjacent corridor and felt hands grab you.

You gasped as they pulled you in, but the familiar feel of your captain filled your senses as your back hit the cold wall. Lips closed over yours before you could so much as blink up at him, gloved hands scrambling to find your wrist and pin them beside your head.

“You should know better than to look at me like that in public, mesh’la,” Rex growled against your mouth.

“You’re one to talk,” was your panted retort as you glanced down the empty, but still very open corridor. This was not like Rex, he never indulged in you in such an easy place to get caught. As appealing as the fantasy was, neither of you could stomach what would happen if you were caught.

He hummed in response, even as his legs started moving, “That look of yours worked me up too much,” one slotted itself between your thighs, shoving them apart as it pressed into you.

And you let out a shaking moan.

Rex only chuckled as you clamped your hand over your mouth, face hot as he pressed his armored limb against your throbbing center. “So, that is it,” he mused into your ear, “That’s what you’ve been thinking about. You think you're so sneaky, stealing looks at-”

He paused suddenly, going stiff as you heard it too: armored feet closing in. Rex flew off of you as fast as lighting, but you still barely had time to lower your hands into a dignified position before the troopers rounded the corner.

The men instantly saluted when they saw you two, but otherwise paid no mind as they marched by. Still, it was enough for both of you to come to your senses. Rex still looked at you out of the corner of his eye, breathing just a little ragged as you both waited for the group to be out of earshot.

When Rex spoke again, it was low and clear. “My office. Tonight,” the pupils of his eyes were still blown wide as he flicked them downward, to where he had likely felt how soaked you were. “And don’t change out of those.”

“Sir yes sir,” you hummed, because you knew it would make him just as wet as he made you. The shuddering breath he let out told you it took all his willpower not to pin you against that wall again.

The night couldn’t come fast enough.

It was only through years of self-discipline that you were able to get any work done at all, between your mind replaying that scene over and over again. Rex’s body holding you at his mercy, his hot mouth devouring yours, even the thrill of almost getting caught. Above all though, you ached at the brief preview of his thick tight bucking up against your core.

You were glad you hadn’t bothered with changing (as per his orders), because the clean pair of panties would have just been ruined as you turned the memory over in your head again and again. 

Getting through your daily reports was the worst part, Rex’s words coming back to you between each line of text you managed to type. Of course, it was almost a blessing, because when Skywalker came by to check on you, you still had a pile of work to groan about: the perfect cover. Everyone would think you were busy working all night, not sneaking off for a secret rendezvous.

And when you finally thought it was late enough to slip away unnoticed, you never flew through reports faster.

The corridors were empty save for the occasional trooper who saluted you, so there were no setbacks when you reached the door of his office. 

“Enter,” came his voice after a short pause when you knocked.

When the door slid open, you were greeted with the sight of him sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, legs spread wide, and chin resting on his fist. You sealed the door the moment it closed, not taking your eyes off him as it locked.

“Finally,” Rex hummed, a hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Then he beckoned you closer with the hand that wasn’t supporting his head, “Come here, cyare. I’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice, you made your way across the room, shifting off your first, outer layer of clothing as you went. The garment fell to the floor as he slid his chair back, leaning forward to pull you between his legs. 

Rex’s hands were instantly pushing your shirt up, “Take this off, sweetheart, I want to have a nice view.”

A whimper at the combination of his words and hands left you, but you did as told, stripping your top half while he pulled at the belt of your pants. Fingers worked their way across your skin as he slid them down your legs. He had obviously regained his patients in your hours apart, because he took his time sliding his hands over the backs of your legs as he made his way up to your underwear.

Only then did he take his eyes off your body, lifting them to meet your own, right before his hand cupped your pussy. Your head fell back with a moan as he massaged you through the fabric and hummed with approval at the wet state of them.

“You’ve been like this all day, haven't you, mesh’la?”

“Yes,” you breathed, but managed to look back at him again, “that’s what you do to me, Rex, just thinking about you gets me wet.”

Once upon a time, Rex would have turned red at such filthy, bold words, so awkward and unsure of himself, but you two were well past that now. 

He proved it when he said, “Oh, I know what you’ve been thinking about, cyare.” 

Rex always struck fast when he had a plan in mind, and here with you was no different. He grasped your hips, those big hands of his able to move your body any way he wanted, and he wanted you against him. 

An ‘oh!’ of pleasured surprise rang through the room when he pulled you down to straddle his thigh. He didn’t say a word as he shifted you, lining you up perfectly with the ridge of his armor. However, when you tried to rock yourself against him, his hands gripped your hips in warning.

“No. Not yet,” he said and despite the firmness, his tone was gently patient, “You don’t move until I tell you, mesh’la.”

Your skin prickled at the soft command, you loved it when he got like this. “Anything for you, Captain,” you made sure your own voice was delicate, practically a moan of its own.

And oh, did Rex’s smile turn dangerous as he said, “Good girl.”

With that, he kept his eyes on where your still-clothed core met his armor, and started pulling you forward. Pleasure rippled up your body instantly, and he let out a pleased chuckle when you had to reach out to grip his shoulders for support.

“You’re already soaking my leg. Just thinking about this got you so worked up?” Rex let out a little mock of a disapproving noise, then started back in on the sentiment he wanted to say back in that hallway. “You thought you were so sneaky, stealing glances at me like that.” 

His hands gripped your hips harder, digging in just enough to leave a faint mark as he kept dragging you forward against the hard length of plastoid, sending pulses of pleasure through your core. 

"You don't think I notice, the way you look at my thighs? Is this what you were imagining? Were you thinking about how perfect it might feel, hard between your legs?" He finally looked up from the mess you were making of his armor, eyes locking with yours again, "Tell me how it feels, cyar'ika.”

The answer came out like a needy whimper, “Perfect!” The ridge got higher and more pronounced the further up you went, and it pressed so deliciously against your clit. “Maker, it feels perfect- you feel perfect, Rex!”

He hummed approvingly, then looked back down at his handiwork. Rex heard the sounds you let out as he pulled you higher and higher up his leg, and as always, he was a smart, intuitive man.

“Right here,” he whispered, seating you right at the point where the peak of the armor was highest, digging into your most sensitive spot delightfully. “There we go, perfect.” 

That’s when Rex started rocking you back and forth in short motions, making rapid bursts of pleasure coarse through you. He was testing the waters and loving the resulting cries you let out. 

“Just the right spot for you, and the perfect view for me,” Rex hummed in approval.

He wasn’t wrong, your bodies were close, but not so flush against each other that he couldn’t see you grinding against him. Unfortunately, that’s when he stopped his rocking motions and let go of your hips.

You didn’t bother hiding your whimper of disapproval, but he only cupped your face lovingly.

“You’ve been a good, patient girl, cyare. Now, I want you to get yourself off. Ride me until you come, understand?”

“Yes- yes, sir.” Your mind was so hazy with need, but, the desire to please your Captain broke through the blissful fog, “but what about you?”

“Me?” he chuckled again as he dropped his hands and leaned back, eyes drinking in your almost naked body, “I told you I wanted a view, and I’m going to enjoy it.”

In that case, you would give him more than a view, you’d give him a show.

Despite still feeling shaky, you managed to let go of his shoulders. Your half-lidded gaze stayed on his as you started trailing your fingertips across your collarbone. The way his tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched made you smile. Then, just as you started moving your fingers between the valley of your breasts, you rocked your hips forward.

That pleasure burst through you again, making you throw your head back, not caring how graphic you sounded as you took what you had been craving, what you needed. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Rex scolded, “keep your eyes on me, mesh’la,” his hand reached down and cupped his codpiece, “want you to look at me while you have your fun.”

You obeyed, whimpering as you rocked back and forth and met his eyes again. Maker, the way he looked at you, hand rubbing himself down while his gaze took in your wandering hands and your thrusting hips, only to dart back up to your eyes again. Since the first night he saw you bare, and all the other heated moments, Rex always looked at you like that. He looked at you as if you were the most intoxicating sight in the galaxy.

That alone made you quiver, but the way your climax was already starting to build had you shaking. You knew your body and knew how to get your end, and as much as you wanted to relish the moment, you weren’t sure you could last long with his hungry gaze watching your every move.

As your lower body pulsed with every rub against his thigh, you cupped your breasts, biting your lip at the added sensation. Pleasure wracked through you on both ends now, and it was hard to keep eye contact with him as you moaned and gasped.

Rex let out a pleased noise at the show you were giving him, “By the force, you look so perfect like this, my perfect girl-” his breath hitched on the last word as his hand continued to work at his cover cock.

You were close now, climbing to the peak, spurred on by him getting off from nothing but the sight of you. Fingers pinched your nipples, as your own thighs clamped on either side of his. Somehow, as your rocking became fast and shallow, you still kept your eyes locked on him, that coil tightening and tight-

“Scream for me, cyar’ika,” Rex growled, “scream my name!”

That’s what did you in, and his name came out a ragged wail when your orgasm ripped through you. It was a whole-body kind of climax, the kind that sent numbing ripples of pleasure all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Rex’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you against the hard plate of his chest as you shook and heaved your ragged breaths. The armor was cool against your burning skin, and Rex rubbed his hands up and down your back with care.

“That’s my girl, doing as asked, keeping your eyes on me the whole time, making pretty sounds. Now look at you, so spent, you enjoy riding my thigh that much?”

Despite the fact that you knew it was a rhetorical question, you nodded your head against his chest, which made a chuckle vibrate under the armor.

“Well then, we’re going to have to do this again, aren’t we? I liked watching you get off like that, mesh’la. You were stunning.”

“Thank you,” you panted, sounding tired and half dazed, breath fogging up his armor, “thank you for always knowing what I want.”

Rex kissed your temple, then he was pulling your body into the position he wanted again, this time curled up in his lap as his hands wandered where they liked.

“You know giving you what you want, is what I want, cyare. Always.”

As soon as you were able to move without shaking, you were going to give this perfect man anything and everything else he may want.

Tag list: @blueink-bluesoul @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar (you two seemed interest so I hope you don't mind the tags lol)