#tough mind

[i-like-to-look-at-your-back]

Sleeping off

[buttercupshands]

(don't look down look at bonnie)

[nikoco11]

maybe not applicable to everyone, but these days it helps me a lot to remind myself i’ve never once gotten better at drawing on a night i’ve been mean towards myself

it’s almost always when i’ve been having fun or been relaxed

[myoonmii]

Erika lehnsherr we battle at dawn for her hand in marriage

[teddybeartoji]

putting your foot on sunday's lap under the kitchen table as he's drinking his morning coffee just to watch him try to act normal. quietly giggling to yourself, you rub against him and take note of the way his wings twitch – he won't look at you, thinking that it'll be punishment enough. that you'll stop if he doesn't react.

but he's doing more than enough already.

his ears are growing warmer and warmer, a faint flush of pink taking over the apples of his cheeks, and it's all just making you want to push him even further. he looks... cute like this.

he takes another sip of his drink and nearly spits it all out when you put more pressure to his clothed crotch; his slender fingers wrap around your ankle in a fraction of a second and you freeze. but he doesn't push you away like you thought he would – he simply keeps you there, as he finally turns to meet your playful gaze.

his is way darker, his pupils bigger than ever.

the silence in the room is thick and dense, heavier than usual, and your heart stammer behind your ribs. sinking your teeth down into the plush flesh of your lip, you wait for him to scold you.

it's exciting.

the real punishment.

the idea that he'll have you kneeling in front of him, between his thighs, begging for his forgiveness. but you can feel it, he's just as excited as you are.

you wonder whether he's thinking about the same exact thing – about you whispering apologies into his thighs, your lips ghosting over his clothed bulge as he observes you with keen eyes. as he tries to stifle the sounds that'll try to crawl up his throat.

you push into him just a bit more. he squeezes your ankle.

he doesn't look away when your lips curl up into a smile.

defiance.

you're testing him.

and he can't wait to discipline you.

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Chrollo Kissing Thought

A/n: Proof read enough to get sick of 3 paragraphs, grammatical errors(?) tbh just sentence structure dw, and teeth. A paragraph about teeth. Thank u and good night.

Chrollo is waiting for the right moment to kiss you. He wants it to be magical, other worldly, just as enchanting as he fantasizes it to be; the plush flesh of your lips and tease of your tongue already invading his mind. Are you the type to be shy and only caress your tongue against his time and time again, or are you bold and willing to give every fiber of yourself to him? Swirling, interlocking, and roping around each other sloppily-- it's the thing of every man's dream.

He wants to feel the structure of your teeth through your warm lips, the outward curve of your lower face clashing against his. Would it be weird if he let his tongue slip across your teeth and to your gums? Occasionally, of course. Chrollo finds the idea of feeling the texture and shape of each individual tooth slotted in the wet, firm insides of your jaw alluring. He longs to study your body, to worship it like it was meant to be. Treasure and read it over repeatedly like the many books he's stowed away in his personal collection of stolen items.

But how to do that without you trying to scratch his face off like an ungrateful house cat? Seems like only time will tell. For now, he'll just stick to kissing your cheeks while you're dead asleep, or ghosting his lips over your shoulders if your guard is down on a good day. Chrollo wants you to at least tolerate him-- which also already seems light years away-- but woe is him for trying to give you a semblance of his affection for you. He's already got you in his unyielding hold, now he just has to play the long game. And it's not like he's worried about rushing things. You two are going to stay together for a very long time, so you'll give in sooner or later. He knows you, and you'll have to.

[wanderingibon]

a flock of birds, a crow family — everything aside, despite viago's frosty, stern demeanor I think both he and teia care about rook like family, in a way that goes past the pretenses of being a crow or just part of house de riva, they're literally found family to meeeeee

and while you have time, please consider finding a family on op. olive branch 🍉 and supporting / sharing their campaigns, especially the ones with low funding <3

[arabdoll]

“Mental toughness is knowing life is unfair and still playing to win.”

Marcus Aurelius

[isawthismeme]

What a buffoon. What does he think he’s doing?

[nelkcats]

Imaginary Friend

Jason Todd had an imaginary friend. Or at least that was his theory, because the other option was not acceptable. His imaginary friend appeared right during the moment of the explosion (in the same place where the fucking Joker had stood) so Jason wondered if what created it was the trauma, maybe his head wished he saw a friendly face before dying.

However that didn't explain why his friend appeared after his resurrection. Jason wondered again if he was going crazy. The day he came out of his grave, with a dizzy head and blurred memories, his friend manifested. The weird thing was that his friend aged (just like him) and his shiny white hair had a floating crown.

Maybe Jason wanted to be friends with royals, who knows. His friend (Danny, because apparently he can talk), showed him where to walk (he seemed to be avoiding something?), unfortunately he didn't listen to Danny, and he ran into Talia. His friend frowned at him in obvious disgust, but how was he supposed to know?

That was how Jason confirmed that Danny was product of his imagination, because Talia couldn't see him. But Danny was strangely helpful, he knew a lot about combat and helped him in the League, when he asked him about it he said that he wanted him to get out of there as soon as possible.

Years later, when he had already left the League and established himself as Red Hood, his friend was still by his side. And Jason was strangely grateful that he'd never left—Danny had helped him so much— his friend had grown up with him. So, the day Dick asked him who he was talking to (Danny, of course), he dodged the question.

In his apartment, he looked at Danny (patient, always attentive) and asked "Are you really imaginary?" Danny smiled sadly, but didn't answer. Jason wondered if it was possible to fall in love with a product from his head.

[diorgirl444]

i think a way to get dallas to do whatever you want is make him feel like he’s in control even though he’s very much not. feed his ego, make him feel all strong, masculine and act like you need him to help you so desperately. he’s immediately putty in your hands. “is that right baby you need your man’s help that badly? need me to take care of you, is that it? should of just asked kid”he thinks he’s being really slick and the best boyfriend ever. he’s got absolutely no idea that he’s completely wrapped around your finger.

[blackdollette]

"got your bible, got your gun." || part five.

꒰ ៹ . "𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 .𝟑𝟖 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒."

tough. - lana del rey + quavo

୨୧˖-ׁ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: practice makes perfect...

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: new ! bau ! female ! reader x jealous ! spencer

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

꒰ ៹ . ୨୧˖ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: possibly fluffy, somewhat playful banter

ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . 🍒 previous chapters: 𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐈𝐈 , 𝐈𝐕

a couple of months in the analysis unit had been more than enough time for you to prove your glowing ethics and efficiency when covering cases. but how good of an agent were you if you couldn’t even stick a bullet in a cardboard man’s flat head?

“...damnit…” you mutter under your breath, watching as your stray bullet somehow managed to swerve and hit the parchment square in the chest, which would’ve been great if you hadn’t been aiming for his leg.

watching idly from the entrance of the shooting range, spencer felt an amused grin tug at his lips. between the tug that pulled at his heartstrings and the sight of you struggling (your seemingly only flaw), he couldn’t deny the stream of delight and supremacy that surged through his veins. even though he failed his gun qualification not once, not twice, but four times.

but still, the feeling of triumph was like a breath of fresh air after months of constantly being outshone by you.

“no offense, doctor,” he dragged out the last word as usual, never forgetting to sprinkle it with just a trace of disdain, “but it’s pretty clear that you have no clue what you’re doing.”

you sigh, putting your arms to your side and clutching the handgun that sat loosely in your grip. you had heard when he came in and to be honest, you were almost certain that the only reason you couldn’t hit your target was because of the feeling of his hazel eyes obsessively burning holes in your back for the past 30 minutes. 

“laugh it up, doc.” you said dismissively, getting your arms back into position and pointing the gun straight at the shabbily pierced cardboard man. “i’ve almost got it, anyway.”

he sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, hands shoved in his pockets. “not with that posture you don’t.”

you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pulled back the earmuffs on your head, finally turning back to look at him in all his skinny, nerdy glory. you had never seen anyone pull off such an ugly sweater vest the way he did.

“what’s wrong with my posture, genius?” you placed a hand on your hip, watching his smug demeanor subtly wither away.

he cleared his throat, taking a cautious step forward. “for starters, you’re shoulders are hunched. pull them back a little and maybe you’ll actually hit the target.”

you narrowed your eyes slightly, trying to hide the fact that every single word had tattooed itself in your brain. 

he continued his instructions. “next, keep your feet shoulder-width apart. that’ll help you balance.”

you nodded slowly, visualizing the movements in your head.

“finally, apply pressure with both of your hands. i noticed that you allow your dominant hand to do all the work. try to distribute the tension evenly.”

spencer obviously didn’t mean to openly admit that he had been analyzing you and had only realized his screw-up when he saw a sly grin spread across your face.

“whatever you say, doctor…” you said quietly, facing your target once again and forcing your body into the instructed stance. you stood awkwardly, hands shaking slightly as you held them stiffly in front of you. clearly the boy-genius wasn’t as good of an instructor as he thought.

he cringed slightly, pulling his hands from his pocket as he approached you.

“you look like a marionette with a deranged puppeteer.” he gestured toward your feet pointing awkwardly toward eachother, your shoulders squeezed together, and your shaking arms.

you quickly fixed your posture, standing upright once again. “and who do i have to thank for that?” you asked sarcastically.

spencer held back a little laugh. as much as he found it hard to like you, he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t like the way you quickly snapped back at him and fearlessly put him in his place.

“okay, okay. just… hold still.”

with a few more careful steps he found himself standing directly behind you, using all his might not to rub up against you. he took your arms in his hands, pulling them up until they were angled perfectly with the target.

though this whole scene was undoubtedly inappropriate, you felt an odd sense of security sizzle in your chest.

“...feet shoulder-width apart…” his breath felt warm at the top of your head, leading you to obey him subconsciously. he nodded with approval, letting out a low hum.

“excuse me, reid, but i’m pretty sure if i landed a spot in the BAU, i’m more than capable of shooting a little gun on my own. how hard can it be?”

as you asked that question, he bit back the scientifically proven, and clearly unwanted tidbit of information that threatened to spill from his lips, deciding to say something much less mature, as he held your arms in place.

“has anyone ever told you how hard-headed you are?” he asked matter-of-factly.

you stay quiet, slightly taken aback by the boldness of the question. “no. but there’s a first time for everything, i guess. now am i holding this thing right or not?”

his hands snaked forward until they caressed yours, helping you keep a gentle but firm grip on the weapon. a soft sigh slipped through your lips as the tension in your body released. this was much better.

while you should’ve thanked spencer for the support, you were having a bit too much fun being stubborn. “why’re you helping me out anyway…”

your question caught him off guard. he had been wondering that himself. he didn’t even know why he had stayed in the corner watching you in the first place. but the addictive feeling of finally being better than you at something was too good for him to turn down. 

he sighed, speaking quietly. “i don’t know. i can relate to you, i guess. the gun qualification was the only test that i didn’t ace on the first try.”

you let out a small laugh. even his humility was laced with the fact that he and his all-knowing gray matter could do no wrong.

spencer felt a smile spread across his own lips as well, but a feeling in his gut stopped it from blooming. this temporary moment of paradise had let him to forget what terms you and him were on.

he cleared his throat, his lips inching toward your ear until he finally gave you the signal.

“now pull the trigger. nice and steady, don’t move your arms.”

a deafening bang rang through the room. your eyes instantly slammed shut, your body jerking back into his as you sent the bullet soaring forward. you panted heavily, the wind being knocked out of you from the impact. the thunderous noise was followed by an expecting silence.

“...atta, girl…” spencer whispered, finally encouraging you to open your eyes. a wave of relief surged through your body. you had hit the target head-on, making it the perfect shot.

you stood there, mouth agape as you stared through the hollow space in the center of the man’s head. a genuine smile graced your lips as you turned back, looking at the vestige of the proud expression that rested on his face.

“...thank you, spencer.” you said with formality that he couldn’t help but respect. with a pep in your step that hadn’t been there before you left the range, leaving him alone with his web of thoughts.

on one hand, he had helped a girl that probably had no experience with weaponry in her life. that should’ve given him at least a thread of pleasure, right? but instead, he was filled with the realization that he had just fed his only opponent the last thing she needed to be a fully qualified member of the unit. 

and he had served it to you on a silver platter without you having to lift a finger.

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[inamindfarfaraway]

I love how Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse said “Anyone can be Spider-Man”. I love how it inspired everyone to imagine their own Spider-People, saving the day in their own universes, with all kinds of cool, interesting personalities and aesthetics and mutations and life stories and relationships. We all put pieces of our soul into these homemade heroes. We had fun. We found community. And then Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse said, “Wow, great job! You’ve really taken our message to heart. Well, get ready for even more of everything you liked from the first movie and a new message to complement the first. Anyone can be Spider-Man… and anyone can be pulled into a cult.”

So now we all have to contemplate whether our lovingly crafted heroes would ever be on Team Mandatory Trauma Because Martyr Complex or not and why.

[charcarts]

haha, so there's this Pokemon TCG art contest 😳😳👉👈...

Please check out the other round 1 guys here!

[arthursfuckinghat]

"I was gonna say you're like a son to me.. but you're more than that."

"It ain't that complicated!"

How quickly that shoulder pat of comfort turned into a condescending one.

[gold-onthe-inside]

frostbite

who? spencer reid (s3) x tough!reader summary: spending christmas on a case is hard enough without you tracking down the unsub on your own, and tough as you are, you're not invulnerable. word count: 1k content warnings: canon-typical violence, references to dismemberment, weapons (ax, knife, guns)

This was not how you thought your Christmas would go. Your hands felt cold and numb in the North Dakota winter, you just couldn't seem to warm yourself up, even in all your layers. Think. What happened? The team had been called away on the 23rd, and now for some reason you were lying in the snow, surrounded by trees. You must have hit your head on something, if you couldn't piece this together.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" sang a taunting voice and you groaned softly, getting up and spotting the low-hanging branch. Right. You had been running. You patted yourself down. No gun. Knife. You gripped the hilt, slowly getting up. The grip is second nature, you didn't top the Academy field training course for no reason. You slip into the trees and branches, keeping an eye out for the unsub, trying to remember how you got separated from the others. The cabin.

They'd found it empty, had started pulling up floorboards to look for their latest victim and in the hubbub of looking for Melissa Green, you had seen the axe missing from the chopping block outside, footprints leading out to the trees. "Come on, pretty girl, where'd you go?" his voice sang again. You know he's a big guy, the odds that you could take him weren't exactly slim, but you knew better than to bring a knife to an axe-fight. But if you could play Marco Polo long enough…

He's an expert at tracking, so you tear off a piece of wool that was already unspooling from your sweater, letting it fall and leaving deliberate foot prints to lead him right to you. And then you clamber up a tree, gripping your knife between your teeth. If it works, you get the drop on him… literally. If it doesn't… well, you can't outrun the bastard anyway. You can't even remember which way the cabin is, and it's starting to get dark. You swallowed, gripping your knife, comfortably perched on a thick branch, hidden among the trees, and radioing your location. Rossi's maybe the only one in the group who's any good at wilderness skills and hunting. If anyone can find you, he's your saving grace, no matter how much you detest hunting as a sport.

Sure enough, you spot the big guy lumbering towards your trap, too engrossed in the hunt to care about the potential of other FBI agents searching for him. You let out a breath and it fogs up in front of you, and you prepare yourself for the tussle, the grip on your knife tightening, and then you jump. It all happens so fast, you don't even really track what happens. Your legs tightened around his neck, attempting to choke him so you don't have to use the blade in your hand, but then he slammed you back against a tree and the pain and cold forces a grunt out of you. You're on the ground, the unsub in front of you and his axe is swinging. You have enough sense to dart out of the swing and it lodged in the tree, your knife slicing into his torso as you twisted out his way.

"Bitch," he spat, pulling his axe out of the trunk and you quelled the panic rising in your throat.

"I bet you got a lot of coal for Christmas, didn’t you?" you asked, taunting him as you circled around him, the adrenaline giving you more nerve than you had as you twirled your knife. Where was your team? "But seriously, were you like… never hugged as a child? Seriously? Who spends Christmas chopping people up?"

"You talk too much," he said, gritting his teeth as he loomed over you while you backtracked.

"Yeah, my supervisor said that too," she said. "But he stonewalls a lot, what else can you do?" you asked, shrugging, your mouth working before your brain could catch up. You needed backup, badly, before this guy backed you into a corner. It was getting colder and darker and God, you really didn't want to have to kill him. He cocked his head at you, probably wondering why you weren't running, like a sane person of your height and weight. "Any chance you'd just… surrender, so I can go home?" she asked and the unsub chuckled.

"You're not going home," he leered, backing you into a corner and raising the blade of his axe to your neck, watching you swallow. Never show fear. You closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm your nerves, and then you heard them. You can't fight your smirk as half a dozen footfalls end up surrounding the two of you and you twisted the axe away from your neck, slamming the big guy against a tree.

"Drop the axe!" Aaron yelled, flanked by the rest of your team. You stepped away, relatively unscathed, and Emily passed you your gun back.

They eventually drag him back up through the woods and into custody and Spencer approached you with a fretful look as you holster your gun back in place. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and tender, his hand finding the bruise on your temple, the cut right by your hairline, and the care in his touch is so sincere, it hurts more than your actual injuries.

"I've recovered from worse," you assured him and his lips pursed.

"That doesn't make me feel better," he told you, hazel eyes turning darker as the light faded. "You could have a concussion--"

"I probably do," you said. "I can barely piece together what happened."

He huffed. "What happened is that you ran off without back up again and got injured again, you can't be this reckless, do you have any idea how terrified I was when we couldn’t find you? You were out here with an unsub on the loose and no weapon, you could have ended up like Melissa--" His voice was breaking as he spoke and you hugged him before he could tear up. There's a lot you can take, there's not much that breaks your spirit, but Spencer in tears? He found it unexpected, it had taken 2 years before you let Penelope hug you without complaint, but he was hugging you back, burying his head in your crook of your neck, exactly where the unsub's axe had been. "Never do that again," he whispered and you didn't answer, nor did he prompt you. You don't make promises you can't keep.