#text confession

[threefuckencrowsinaleatherjacket]

Myself included tbh

[threewishgoldfish]

Just a little doodle because I could not *not* draw this

[shaylogic]

Renaissance Painting

[strawlessandbraless]

Just 3 more sleeps till Nov 5th, can’t wait to be so normal with you guys!

[superbat-love]

Bruce: I took your advice, Diana. I finally confessed my feelings to Clark.

Diana: I never thought I'd see the day. So, how did it go?

Bruce: It didn’t turn out as I had hoped.

Diana: I’m almost too scared to ask why, Bruce.

Bruce: I did what you suggested. I found us a quiet and peaceful spot where we could be alone without any interruptions. I held his hand, looked straight into his eyes and told him that I love him.

Bruce: I didn’t have time to prepare any gifts to show my sincerity, but I mentioned that I wouldn't mind if he brought me some flowers...

Diana: You didn’t…

Bruce: ...for my grave. Actually, I had a longer, more heartfelt speech prepared about how he should move on and live his life, but it was hard to get the words out when there’s a huge hole in my chest and I was rapidly losing consciousness.

Diana: Bruce. How are you still standing here before me saying all this?

Bruce: Clark seemed very upset about my confession and yelled at me. The next thing I knew, I was alive and drowning at the bottom of the Lazarus Pit before Clark brought us up to the surface. I think he’s still mad about it.

Diana: I don’t know what to say.

Bruce: It was the lack of gifts, wasn’t it? I admit that I should have prepared it beforehand, but it honestly slipped my mind at the moment. What should I do now?

[cadmium-free]

a couple days ago i thought my cat would like to try some chicken broth, so i dabbed it on his nose. and you would think. you would think i put vicks vapor rub on his nose. poison on his nose. this chicken broth was literally made for my other (sick) cat who loves it. but this guy, he took off running. hid in my bedroom. i had to coax him out and wipe it off with a cloth. he flinched every time he looked at me for a whole day. he sat on the couch next to me and kept looking at me and flinching. insisting on being pet but Fearful Of The Broth. and now. now. any time he smells chicken. or broth. he has to hide. and flinch when looking at me. one little dab of chicken broth. the equivalent of killing his entire family. i am the most unforgivable cat criminal in the world. homemade chicken broth.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 27] || [Chapter 29]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ cw: illness, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff, love confessions! Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: Just a cute little moment

Chapter 28: How in the-

The trip with John was short but sweet. A full weekend together, away from everything…

Followed by 4 whole weeks alone. Not that you minded the extra piece and quiet.

You were normally kept at a distance from the boys and their line of work. Arms length, not because they don’t trust you, but because just like Simon learned to drop Ghost at the door, the rest drop work at the door too.

The closest thing you get to ‘work’ is funny anecdotes that can even make you laugh, OR soft, whispered, retelling of memories as your hands snake over their rough skins, fingers grazing the scars that those memories left behind.

Today was a first. In a lot of ways.

The boys showed up at your flat at 3 A.M. after spending a whole month out of Hereford and in God knows where.

You had opened the door very wearily to the sight of the four of them, not even having changed out of their tactical gear, looking like they had been through hell.

Kyle was walking with a limp and a groan, his back stiff and an inability to properly swivel side to side at the hips.

Johnny had gotten his shoulder shot?? Plus his knee was acting up so he was also limping.

John was, also, limping. His back was also stiff and he murmured something about having pulled a muscle.

And Simon? The man’s eyes were surrounded by circles darker than you’d ever seen them, his shoulders slumped. He moved normally, unlike the others. And that concerned you more than anything.

“Jesus, what happened?”

“Mission mishaps. They happen sometimes, da’lin’.” John told you soothingly as he attempted to press a kiss to the crown of your head, but wincing when he felt the pain shoot up his spine.

“Sounds to me like more than mishaps. There’s no way all four of you are injured and it was just a ‘mishap’.” You scolded them as you carefully helped them off their gear, multiple men groaning and grunting in pain as the heavy weights were shed from their torsos.

“Have you been checked?”

“Yes, we went to medic before coming over-” Kyle told you.

“And they let you leave on foot? You look like you all should be on bed rest!” You scolded them.

“And that’s why we’re here.” Johnny added before letting out a groan when you moved his arm, sending pain barreling down his arm.

“How in the-” You murmured as you noted the patched up bullet wound.

“Don’t ask…” Kyle muttered under his breath, a whimper of a sound that you had never quite heard from him.

They were like lost puppies… Needy for being lulled to sleep by a soft hand caressing them behind the ears after some nasty man kicked them on the street.

So that’s how you ended up with four injured soldiers in your house. Ghost took the living room couch, leaving the bed for John and Kyle and Johnny.

“Don’t get any blood on my bed, Johnny!” You warned him. “If something happens, you call me.” You had added as you made sure they were as comfortable as can be before you slipped out of the room.

Reaching the living room, it was now well past 4 A.M. Simon was lying there, one leg swung over the back of your couch, and eyes locked on the shower. “You okay, Simon?” You checked softly.

“Fine, sweetheart.”

“Don’t look fine to me.” You retorted and sat on the armchair by his head, looking down at him, your hand finding his and caressing it.

He twitched a bit against the pillows, brown eyes fluttering for a moment as he took a deep breath. “Mission went tits up. Strained ourselves trying to finish.”

“You too, then?” You asked him and he nodded. “Where?”

“Everywhere. I’m sore all over… And I think I have a fever.” He admitted.

“Do you wanna try a shower?” You suggested and he shook his head.

“I don’t wanna stand up for that long… I get dizzy.”

“And a bath?” You added.

“…” Simon didn’t answer but he groaned and forced himself to stand up. You helped guide him to the bathroom.

After lowering the stopper and allowing the water to flow into the tub, you looked at Simon. “I’ll be outside, okay? I’ll give you privacy.” You told him softly.

Leaning up, you kissed his pale cheek, and turned away…

Only for him to catch you by the wrist. “Stay.”

“What?” You asked him, unsure you heard him right.

“Stay. Please.” He requested.

“But… you said you didn’t-” You trailed off, the memory of his fear of exposing his body to you (or anyone) clear in your mind.

“I know what I said. Just… Please.” He insisted.

“Okay.” You replied and nodded, stepping forward again. He reached his arms up, painfully slowly, the same way John and Kyle and Johnny had.

You grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slowly rolled it up, your eyes finding his scar-riddled torso for the first time. Blotchy skin due to chemical burns here and there, big gashes and smaller cuts spread throughout.

Simon was looking away the whole time as you helped him off his cargos and underwear. The injuries continued down his legs, every inch of him nasty and ugly, only due to how brutal his scars were. In reality, it all made no difference to you.

“You okay?” You checked on him. He nodded slowly, his eyes screwed shut.

“Let’s get you into the water, okay? It’ll do you good.” You said as you grabbed him by the bicep and helped get him into a seated position inside the tub.

Then, you knelt by his side just as he was grunting in relief, his muscles relaxing in the water. 

The bathtub that had felt tight with you and Johnny in it months ago, now felt even smaller with Simon Riley in it. 

Grabbing the sponge, you carefully ran it over his torso and shoulders, wetting the part of him that didn’t fit in the bath.

The blond leaned his head back on the wall and opened his eyes, finding you looking at him.

“Thank you.” Simon told you in a whisper.

“For bathing you?”

“For dating me.” He replied, causing you to smile.

“My, Simon, you might be sicker than I expected. Where’s the confidence?” You teased him good-naturely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Was never here. Just faking it until I made it…” He admitted and shook his head, letting it lull against the tiles.

“I see, well… It worked.” You joked as you kept wetting his body carefully.

“We’re lucky to have you.” He murmured. “You didn’t have to do this. To put up with us.”

“It’s not putting up if I like you.” You told him. “Besides… you take care of me. I take care of you. Mutually beneficial, that’s what a relationship should be.”

“I don’t take care of you because I like you.” Simon whispered, a drowsy look in his tired eyes.

“Then what for?” You asked him. “Because you want to shag me that bad?” You joked again and winked.

“No… because I love you.” Simon muttered, his lips a bit lazy in the way he said it, clearly too relaxed and tired and groggy to really think straight.

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped open, your hands going limp and dropping the sponge. “Simon…”

“You don’t have to say it back.” He said as he rolled his head against the tile wall, side to side. “Just wanted you to know.”

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

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[butyouaremymess]

Colin + his (many) love confessions for Penelope

[sirlancenotalot]

happy despair

[felixknow]

hannie & 3 please?? (*≧з≦)

3. "no one loves me." "i'm literally right here."

This one is so cute o3o Hope you enjoy!! Thanks for sending a number <3

friends to lovers, hannie confesses, pure fluffy goodness <3

masterlist | want another member? ask! | send me a number <3

Do NOT repost my content on any website for any reason.

[butterflysonnets]

14 year old mike wheeler, monologuing to eleven: i knew from the moment i met you that i loved you

12 year old mike wheeler, the moment he met eleven: crawl out my window and go knock on my house's door so my mom calls child services on you and you can go back to pennhurst asylum or whatever because i'm way too busy — wait did you say you know about will? where is he? is he okay? you can live in my closet if you help me find him

[arowrath]

if taylor swift hadn't kept foolish one in the vault for 13 years it would've saved me so much heartache in high school

[doveskarma]

[hyliareborn]

[danothan]

there’s a river in egypt that barry allen swims laps around

[Blackest Night #4, Green Lantern 2011 #38]

[superbat-love]

Bruce Wayne harbored a secret (well, besides being Batman). When he's not playing the billionaire playboy by day, he wrote a controversial relationship column for Gotham's seediest news outlet under the pen name Matches.

His advice was a potent blend of brutal honesty and strategies for navigating Gotham's underhanded legal system. He exposed the toxicity of relationships with manipulative clowns, dismantled the tactics of two-faced partners, and offered escape routes from partners more likely to break your back than your heart.

Matches’ column went viral, even hooking the ever-optimistic Clark Kent, who found himself surprisingly drawn to the column's cynical wisdom. When his charm failed with a certain oblivious Gotham vigilante, Clark anonymously sought Matches’ expertise for a blossoming crush.

Faced with a surprisingly normal question about winning someone’s heart, Bruce felt completely out of his depth. Wholesome romantic relationships were uncharted territory for him. But he can't ignore someone genuinely seeking help. Scrambling for inspiration, Bruce delved into the dusty Victorian romance novels lining his library shelves. If it worked for generations of Waynes before him, it had to stand a chance, right?

Blissfully unaware of Matches’ true identity, Clark took Bruce's hilariously old-fashioned dating advice to heart. He serenaded Bruce from beneath his balcony, formally requested permission to court him from Alfred, and sent him poetic love letters (complete with a lock of his own hair).

Surprisingly, Bruce's terrible suggestions work. While another might be baffled by Clark's sudden eccentricities, Bruce began to understand Clark's intentions. Clark's sincerity slowly won him over.

So, Bruce penned a formal letter in acceptance of Clark's courtship, returning the gesture with a lock of his own hair sealed in a gold locket.