#they all take the shot
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
The Spicy Six Drink Challenge:
(Based on that viral TikTok challenge where everyone adds a bit of something to the King's Cup, they mix it up and take shots)
Hi, I'm Nancy, and I'm going to add Sprite because I feel like everyone's just going to add liquor.
Hi, I'm Jonathan. I'm going to add orange juice because I heard Eddie say he's going to add half a bottle of Vodka.
Hey everyone, Argyle here. I'm just gonna add a little bit of lemonade because Eddie said he's going to add some Malibu.
Steve here, setting sail on this nasty bullshit of flavor we're making. I'm going to add all of the Coke we have because Eddie told me he's adding, like, a pint of Jack and I don't want to have to carry my boyfriend home.
I'm Eddie. I'm adding a can of Monster because I told each person here that I'm adding different types of alcohol so they'd make the ultimate master mix of flavors, and I'm forcing them to reap what they've sown.
Robin: *adds half of a bottle of gin*
Robin: *takes a shot* I'm gonna kiss Nancy tonight
#they all take the shot#steve just opens his throat and doesnt even taste it#eddie would be so turned on by that of he wasnt gagging on the lemonade aftertaste#nancy is politely holding her fist in front of her mouth eyes watering keeping the gags down#argyle's wondering who the fuck put coke in there but manages to keep his cool#robin and jonathan are fighting over the trashcan#this went through zero peer review in my brain#spicy six#spicy six headcanon#stranger things#steddie#ronance#queenie's void thoughts#written on mobile so sorry for typos
308 notes
·
View notes
Text
#tim drake#red robin#robin#dcu#dc comics#timsteph#timber#timcassie#curse you dc for making two regular fixtures in Tim’s life be named cassie and cassandra both shortened to cass#do any of the rest of these mf have tags#prolly not#this is so much responsibility#redlynx#timdar#timtam#HOW IN THE FUCK IS THAT NOT ALREADY A SHIP TAG#NOT ONLY WERE THEY IN A SITUATIONSHIP FOR MOOOOOST OF RED ROBIN#LOOK AT IT#TIMTAM!!#SO GOOD!!!#anyways every time another hot person kisses tim drake and he’s like ‘wtf’ and then ‘hmmmm this is not a good idea prolly’ take a shot#like dick grayson is Known for being flirty or whatever (a perception discussed in Detail elsewhere) but tim is (still) SEVENTEEN#and has been in SEVERAL serious relationships and also a few situationships and also had several ill-advised kisses#anyway the reason that timkon (and to a lesser extent jaytim) will always be my faves#is cuz tim can be All Of Himself#and he couldn’t be in p much any of his earlier relationships really#also kon (and Jason when he is Less Murdery) are caretakers and tim Needs That Shit#and he also needs someone to pour all of his Immense Loving Heart into loving and kon and Jason both Need That#they can be So Normal about each other#anyways ty for coming to my tim drake romance ted talk
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
absolutely hilarious to me that agatha calls rio a bad boy when in reality rio is actually the rule following jock with infinite patience and care who brings you flowers on a first date.
agatha on the other hand is the snarky girl who gets into arguements with her teacher about the smallest details in the lecture and is constantly getting detention for cursing someone out. she's top of all her classes tho.
#she's the bad influence#rio is literally just along for the ride#this came to me because i was thinking about how rio follows the laws of the universe#and how agatha tries to defy them at every fucking term#like no agatha babe rio isnt the bad boy she's the golden boy you take home to your parents and your mom starts planning your wedding#there is fic potential in here but im not a writer so if anyone else wants to take a shot go ahead#agatha harkness#rio vidal#agatha x rio#agathario#agatha all along#kathryn hahn#aubrey plaza#rio definitely has a jealousy streak tho and she will get violent if threatened
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Transcript:
LET'S SETTLE THI- Oh hang on. Hang on, Machine, um.
It's 8 PM I need to take my testosterone.
Sorry I'll just be a second. Uh wait here, alright?
Audio Source
#ultrakill#gabriel ultrakill#ultrakill if it was based#its like a power up for the fight#fight. yeah. fight.. and not uh. anything else........................ that it could possibly effect *i am shot before i can continue*#smiles.#anyway. hes about to lose half his blood supply. your dose is gonna be all fucked up#take care of yourself#edit:#the way todays dev stream made this Canon (trust me). as was foretold.#this being posted today was a complete coincidence#I scheduled this weeks posts a few days ago#IT WAS FORETOLD#I SAW IT
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
I feel like I've complained about Tim's email situation in Gotham Knights before (edit: I have), but the truth of it is just so funny.
He's signed up for so many podcasts, video game streamers, and random news alerts; it's just a constant barrage of data going straight into his constantly whirring brain. Hell, he even floats the idea of the Batfamily having their own podcast as a way to correct misinformation about them (which Jason shoots down instantly), and it's made me realize something.
Timothy Drake would be a YouTuber.
In this universe specifically, Timothy Jackson Drake, the heir to Drake Industries and the foster son of the late Bruce Wayne would be a YouTuber.
Think about it. It'd be the perfect cover. Who would ever suspect that some 16-year-old nepo baby with a YouTube channel could ever be Red Robin? You'd have to be mad. I mean, look at him.
Red Robin just dropped out of literal thin air and garotted someone four times his size, and you expect anyone to believe that's the same kid who does 24-hour Minecraft charity streams and occasionally drops 6-hour video essays (his last one was on Lex Luthor's illegal bit mining operation on the moon)?
That kid?
You think that kid is Red Robin?
Ch'yah, okay, sure. And the Joker is funny 🤡.
#gotham knights game#I'm now incorporating this into all my Tim headcanons across the multiverse#twice a week as part of maintaining his Normal Teenager Identity#he streams random shit on YouTube/Twitch#he's got the full gamer set up in the background#LED lights around the ceiling and walls#rainbow keyboard/headset#mini fridge filled with Monster Energy Drinks#(other streamers have 'take a shot' prompts in chat. his audience has 'drink water before you die')#whenever he hosts a charity stream Bruce makes an appearance in chat via the official Wayne Enterprises account#and promises to match whatever they raise#and then hangs about for a bit to cheer Tim on#he's the epitome of 'are ya winning son?' meme#meanwhile off screen#Tim's keeping an eye on a seperate monitor#and helping Babs run remote ops#if his stream suddenly dies (which is does fairly often) he blames it on the Manor having shitty wifi#and that tracks#it's an old house#it's probably FILLED with lead and dead signal spots#in reality Tim killed the stream because Red Robin is needed#and no one will ever know
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
shawn's deep trust of lassiter keeps catching me so off-guard like when he's held captive and lassie and henry both turn up he tries to yell "carlton" not "dad" and when he sees a guy with a gun come into the restaurant he goes straight for lassie and keeps trying to get his attention instead of literally any of the other dozens of cops in the room with them and when he's telling someone to call the police he tells them to ask for lassiter, not jules, not vick, lassiter. like he spends all his time provoking lassie but the second there's danger there's literally no one else he trusts more
#psych#shawn spencer#carlton lassiter#shassie#like#what the hell man#also lassie calling him 'shawn' all through shawn takes a shot in the dark was Something#i know it's because he was with henry and it would have been weird to last name him to his dad#but still it was wild#AND shawn tried to call out to him as 'carlton' in the same episode??? hello???#and the moment where lassie stops the car and shawn immediately holds the gun out for him is like#yeah they annoy each other so so much#but they're soooo in sync#they Get each other#they drive me fucking crazy like everyone on the show talks about shawn and gus's weird little thing#but no one mentions shawn and lassie's weird little thing#probably because lassie would shoot them but still
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典
summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →
"You don't look well—"
"Don't."
You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi.
He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.
(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)
You're reformed.
Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate.
They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.
Your lip catches in a snarl.
Don't think about that.
Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move.
Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it.
He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.
Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won.
"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."
Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer.
"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"
Son of a bitch.
You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk.
Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice.
"If you need to take the night—"
"Yes."
He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.
"Should I call Recovery Girl?"
Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth.
"I'm fine."
You're not fine.
Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work.
You're so not fine.
You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.
You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours.
Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse.
Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out.
Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right?
Right...?
"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!"
Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.
You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.
Fuck.
You snatch the phone up and answer the call.
"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be.
"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy."
Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak.
"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"
"Come over."
Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch.
"What?"
Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."
"Derecho—"
"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"
Jesus fucking Christ.
This is bad.
This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...
"Give me ten."
And he hangs up.
Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone.
Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi—
Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof.
The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over.
He makes good time.
His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.
Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch.
When did you even buy that—?
"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained.
Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:
"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."
He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist.
You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room.
You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology.
"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"
"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned.
You swear he's smirking in the dark.
"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."
"Anything—"
Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore.
"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine.
"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!"
...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure.
"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment.
And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles.
The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.
Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot.
"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"
"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects.
"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him.
"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him.
"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"
"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."
"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch.
Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner.
You've got All Might on his knees.
It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand.
Making you orgasm.
You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like.
Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"
He sounds concerned.
Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—
Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in.
Ohmygod.
This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther.
"Keep 'em open."
"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."
It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.
His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark.
His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea.
Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you.
You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.
It's Toshi's turn to moan.
You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop.
You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core.
"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"
"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly.
He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt.
"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.
You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness.
You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth.
"What?" he shirks, looking down.
"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.
"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—"
"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.
Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer.
His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress.
"Toshinori—"
"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"
"If you don't fuck me right now—"
"Right."
And he sinks in.
Ha.
Yea.
This is good.
You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form.
His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.
"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"
Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch.
And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile.
It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—
Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:
"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."
The coil snaps.
Finally.
After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide.
"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.
He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises.
Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.
Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil.
Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.
At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.
Then, you roughly pat it twice.
"We're never gonna talk about this again."
Right.
Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.
Definitely.
...Right.
"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."
That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.
Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.
After all, it's just Toshinori.
He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.
And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?
Naaah.
#this is a rare birbs smut#toshinori x reader#all might x reader#mha imagine#mha x reader#toshinori yagi#all might x you#mha imagines#toshinori yagi x reader#toshinori yagi x you#mha smut#i would take back shots from this man at any age of his#bruised ego
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
completely innocuous vash sheet :) fr practice
#my art#trigun stampede#trigun#vash the stampede#trigun vash#trigun stampede fanart#trigun fanart#vash fanart#STILL dont know the tags gomen ill do research one of these days#anyway . 4 gd days later hes finally done#here is what i am learning . i love his design sm. but jesus CHRIST#all the individual elements r so time consuming i want to tear my face off. im slowly getting more familiar w the arm but God.#im so peeved at how long this took but i am trying to cut myself some slack. remembering tht his design is a 24 hour endeavour#and i drew 4 of him#3 of which being fullbody 2 of which being foreshortened 1 of which being a Maid Dress#the price i pay fr self-indulgence.....the price i pay fr [redacted]#this started out as a treat fr me n it became my purgatory#but it is DONE and now i can look at vash in a maid outfit and tied up and jacket off turtleneck Out and shirtless and- *is shot dead*#anyway huge shoutout to mey rin black butler fr being the og Maid With Gun#stole the thigh bustle from a panel of her it was just too good#anyway take it enjoy the fruits of my labour enjoy him i am . exhausted.
644 notes
·
View notes
Text
sick and twisted that we started and ended season 2 with such similar shots, except there's now a massive gap between them that wasn't there before. AND THEY'RE NOT ON THEIR USUAL SIDES
#i'm going insane i cannot take this#the parallel between these two shots hit me like a brick wall at 4am#good omens#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#gos2spoilers#go2 spoilers#gomens spoilers#go spoilers#go2e6#good omens season 2 episode 6#that's gotta be all the spoiler tags surely fdhjdfjhdf#ineffable husbands#ineffable divorce#no nightingales#i'm told those are the angst tags lol#aziraphale#crowley#michael sheen#david tennant#neil gaiman#terry pratchett#i need to lie down im so fucked up over them
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
My mom (and my sister) said that both baby Stan and Ford are adorable but Ford is cuter and she likes him better and I think my heart is shattered.
This post is dedicated to my favorite kid Stanley panels:
My mom didn’t even like him when I showed the one where he murders those two kids 😭😭😭 that’s the best part!!!
#gravity falls#stanley pines#stanford pines#I just wanna hold him and tell him he’s wonderful and creative and amazing#he’s trying his best#hes just a baby HES JUST A BABY#she doesn’t like that he’s a con man but MAYBE he wouldn’t have become a con man if he had a better support group 😤😤😤#I mean c’mon this kid had practically NO ONE#the only one there for him was his brother#and he was always over shadowed by his brother#everything he did in comparison wasn’t enough#and so yeah he takes shortcuts to catch up and then all he knows to do is lie and cheat because anything else he tried to do got shot down#HE WANTED TO DRAW COMICS DAMNIT#and really he was also pretty skilled in crafting! like foot bot and the boat he built with his brother#he probably just didn’t realize that that was impressive because of course it wasn’t his brother was doing things ten times cooler#YOU GUYS WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HIM THE WAY I DO#😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#AND THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MY CHILDHOOD#WHERE I WAS *ALSO* OVER SHADOWED BY MY SIBLING AND FELT THAT I WAS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH#AND I’D GET IN TROUBLE FOR SHIT I DIDNT DO#AND WAS CONSIDERED THE SCREW UP#THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT.#SHUT UP.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
tav being canonically so attractive that people just throw themselves at them is super funny as a galemancer because like so many people in-game (and the game itself at times) call gale either annoying or pathetic straight up to his face but tav is turning down all of faerun for him. everyone desires them carnally and they are busy getting ready to be introduced to gale's cat over dinner.
#nevermind all the cheap shots about gale being vanilla and boring at sex but when you romance him he's like let's have astral sex#faerun most misunderstood relationship#like i still think mizora only wants to have sex with tav to get to wyll but imagine being mizora#but imagine her thinking she got this in the bag because she's a powerful sexy demon and she really doesn't#sorry but the game taking so many cheap shots at gale makes me obsessed with this#and like on paper his ex is still mystra so like#antiqua plays bg3#gale#gale of waterdeep#bg3
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.
The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.
Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)
Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)
One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.
“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.
Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.
He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.
“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.
“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.
The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.
“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.
“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.
Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.
“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.
Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?
He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.
“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.
“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.
Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.
Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.
Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.
Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.
“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”
“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.
“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.
Love is a gentle thing.
“Aye.” John whispers.
All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.
#*channeling my inner thirteenbullets*#can you guys just ignore that the pov changed from ghost to soap thanks a bunch#and that the plot point completely changed haha#sweats nervously#I listened to velvet ring by big thiefs over and over again while writing this#it really helped with the gooey sappiness#im gonna take a nap now#i wrote this all in one shot ��💪#call of duty#robs ramblings#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#ghoap#ghostsoap
494 notes
·
View notes
Text
Out of all of the people The Ghost King Phantom expected to relate to, it definitely wasn’t the scrawny red headed photographer of the Daily Planet. Jimmy Olsen has gotten so many temporary superpowers over his time being Superman’s friend. Hell, he once gained a 4th dimensional being’s reality warping abilities when he was given said dimensional being’s powers during a fight. Sure there’s a dozen or so heroes with the same amount of powers he has, but none as suddenly granted to them as a all powerful god that can relate to a teenager.
#bones speaks#hi this is bones in the future: below tags I do mean but I was Not Sober while writing them so they may have severe spelling errors#bones prompts#dpxdc#dp x dc#just google the amount of times Jimmy has had powers and what they are. I just read a comic#where the F PLOT of all things is Jimmy getting superpowers and causing havoc in Metropolis. that’s how frequent this is#the all powerful god powers was in a recent Batman/Superman Worlds Finest issue where he got Mxyzptlk’s powers#like guys. there are SO many heroes that have more powers than Danny in DC.#off the top of the dome I can only name a few (in my defense I am Not Sober so memory is Not Good:)#Raven. The Spectre. Superman. The Atom. Batman (temporary powers). Dr Fate. Martian Manhunter#and I could name more if my memory wasn’t shot rn#this is a mini rant in the tags but I’m so tired of the ‘Danny has so many superpowers it would stump DC’#it would for sure shock them. but they wouldn’t be surprised. why are they all so shocked from Danny’s arrival?#I’ve made many posts about how much more interesting Danny simply being in the JL like it’s just another Tuesday would be interesting#so many folks enjoy the discovery aspect of Danny and not the part where he’s alreaady a JL member and is#*isnt OP. it’s so much more interesting to write a character with flaws. make him regular powered and able to be struck down by a Big Bad#and not just his weaknesses. he’s been beaten to shit by ghosts before. the angst possibilities is crazy.#Billy Batson looking at a kid nearly his age get hurt more and more by Black Adam? Fear Gas setting him on a rampage in Gotham absolutely#destroying his perception of what being safe is anymore. Lex Luther finding his weakness and wrecking his shit#it could be SUCH an interesting direction to take dpxdc but no one does. when I write prompts with those ideas they make a fraction of the#notes of the prompts where I pander and have batfam in them. diversity of ideas in fandom is what makes us strong. keep the new and#unorthodox ideas flowing. it feels like you’re swimming upstream but it’s worth it to help a fandom grow
329 notes
·
View notes
Text
Loki + searching for Mobius moments after disaster
#mobius#loki#lokius#mcuedit#lokiedit#marveledit#loki spoilers#owen wilson#tom hiddleston#THE ROMANCE OF IT ALL 🥺😭#those s1 shots have lived rent free in my mind for YEARS now then s2 said thanks have more??#giving me all my rights because i talked about it constantly after the finale and it still wasn't enough lmao#taking the excuse to lose my mind over this again and running bc this is what love looks like to me. the one person who makes it all okay#and somehow this season has delivered that message time and time again in every ep what an actual gift 💖#loki s2 spoilers#marvel#owenwilsonedit#dianagifs
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
#photo#water#ocean#california coast#all taken of the same patch of water more or less over less than a minute#also. i don't by habit do postprocessing of images besides cropping so no exposure adjustment#it's aN aRtIsTic cHoIcE#or. laziness.#or: a challenge to myself to get the shot right in the moment and learn the camera#or: i don't enjoy it in itself#whereas I do enjoy the act of taking pictures#and i don't have to spend time on what i don't enjoy!#so here have my over and underexposed images that reflect that i was captivated in the moment by the swell of the waves and not thinking -#of the metering. imperfection a reflection of joy in a transient thing and also lack of skill
307 notes
·
View notes
Text
Park Seonghwa | Coachella 2024 rehearsal
#bit late with this#park seonghwa#seonghwa#ateez#the video was overwhelming#it will take me 84 years to watch it all#but these shots were nice#ateez at coachella
413 notes
·
View notes