#ugh i'm soft

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

WEEWOO IM HERE FOR THE EVENT!! (also smth I noticed, you can't copy paste your moots @ from one post to another, bc they don't receive the notif;_; I checked my mentions for your @ and uh- nope)

ANYWAY "nights spent in" with Leona pls (or Ruggie or Kalim or Jack or Jamil 💀💀) I just want a lazy night with takeout and cuddles and looking at the city/town from the hotel or room balcony in peace but I also need this frigging degree-

Nights Spent In; Leona Kingscholar

Content; Fluff, so much fluff, gender-neutral reader, romance

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I came up with a whole meal for this and I want everything. All of the food mentioned is North Indian vegetarian food, except for Leona's. Best of luck with that degree, Soru!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were lounging on the sofa on the balcony, a light breeze coming off the waves helping cut most of the heat from the day as night slowly painted the sky in a deep navy. Honestly, you could fall asleep right here, since you were warm and very comfy. Count on the royal family of the Sunset Savannah to spare no expense, even when it came to their balcony furniture for the smallest of their vacation homes. 

Speaking of the Kingscholars, Leona had said that he was going out to grab you both dinner, which would have shocked anyone else, but he put in the work when it came to you. You were the exception. Of course, though, he expected something in return, which was usually either using you as his pillow or giving him a kiss… or several until he was satisfied with how fast he could make your heart flutter. Smug bastard…

“Hmm, I went through all the trouble of gettin’ you food and here you are nearly passed out,” he sighed, having sneaked up on you. But he sighed, putting the food down.

Leona leisurely walked over to you before promptly laying on top of you and resting his chin on your shoulder, trapping you. He let out a long sigh and bumped his head against yours.

Taking the message, you started scratching behind his ears and hummed. “I thought I had to pay you back after we ate,” you mused.

He chuffed, but his tail was slowly waving back and forth in a relaxed manner, he was only putting on a show. “You can pay me now and then,” he grumbled, looking up at you and raising a brow expectantly.

You knew that face, it was the face that he made when he wanted a kiss but didn’t want to say it. “You can get the rest of it, but after we eat-” your stomach made a low rumble underscoring your statement. “Before I decide to eat you instead,” you joked, and poked him in the ribs to prompt him to get off you.

Leona rolled his eyes, but yielded, he wanted his damn kisses sooner rather than later. Plus the last time he had decided to lay on you and prevent you from getting food, you had indeed bit him. Even though you didn’t really leave a mark, it still stung a bit, and he would rather not get teased by the others if they found out it had happened again.

“What did you get by the way,” you asked. Whatever it was smelled divine. Your stomach gurgled even louder, sounding more akin to some beast demanding food.

Leona chuckled a bit at the commotion, but brought the food out. “Went to a small place, family run and owned,” and he brought out several containers of food. He looked at his order, “Malai kofta, raita, paratha, mattar paneer-”

You saw one other container and raised a brow.

“Rogan josh,” he answered, swiping the container away from you.

You rolled your eyes at him, but you were more than happy at the food he had got, and knew that he left a hefty tip even though he would deny it. Not only had he made you, and your ravenous stomach’s, night, but also the restaurant owners’ as well. 

Now content and full of food, the both of you laid in bed, your legs intertwined. “Thanks for getting dinner,” you hummed, feeling the sleepiness from earlier returning.

Leona turned his head to you, and rubbed circles on your hip, slowly. He was wearing the same expectant look again. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” But there was no smugness, Leona was full and just as tired as you, so he was more like a tired kitty looking for some love.

You shuffled over and placed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he let out a tired sigh, pupils dilating into round saucers. “I love you,” you placed another kiss on his lips before placing one on his scar and lingering there.

He bumped his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know… I love you too.”

~~~~~~~

Tags; @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @savanaclaw1996, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii @leonistic

[imagine-darksiders]

How Monty rescued Tiny!Reader from one of his water hazards.

[blushes-and-gropes]

I want to tease a pretty boy at the back of the bus. To nuzzle and press into him as one of my hands gently runs up and down his thighs. I want to see him shift in his seat as he tries to hide how worked up he is getting in public; just to have me learn over and whisper in his ear all the things I'm going to do to him when we get home, undoing all his progress.

How delightful it would be to watch his face turn pink as he attempts to stutter out a reply. And how much better it would be to watch it flush even deeper when at home, in bed, I do everything I promised I would on that stupid bus Xx

[naffeclipse]

Soft Underbelly

An Apex Polarity AU

Orca!Eclipse x Leopard Seal!Y/N (SFW)

You must provide for your child but leaving for even a moment holds danger. You are a predator, nearly at the top of the food chain. Nothing can threaten you and your offspring, except, of course, an orca siren. How do you safeguard against your one weakness?

Word Count: ~3,900 Warnings: Manhandling, nonconsensual touching, anxiety, fear, and dead animal

A/N: I'm on such a baby kick, it's embarrassing. I can't get over the family fluff and thinking of Eclipse being a doting father is turning me feral. I do love the dynamics with Leopard Seal Y/N as she is a fierce mama. It's good to have someone finally going toe to toe with Eclipse, even if the outcome is still clear. And of course, there's a fluffball baby!

Little note again: the reader is female and will be referred to by female terms/titles such as mother. Also, please make sure to read all the tags/warnings as this is a mature fic and will contain an unhealthy dynamic and toxic traits.

Not beta read, I'm torn apart by leopard seals.

Please enjoy the fluffball and her fierce mama and her new dad!

[yanaleese]

Honestly, Karma, let’s get married. Fuck the certificate and family after our asses, I wanna elope like the colors and stars evident within the Milky Way.

Oh he would happily say yes!!!

Just make sure Kallisto doesn't find you first...

<3

[depravedangelbaby]

♡ I am just a soft angel tonight ♡

[randomprose]

zhan zheng xi wanting the moment to be just theirs and being happy that jian yi remembered that time he took him to the top of a mountain on his birthday. lighting fireworks together means something to them—like promises and hopes and wishing they'll continue to light sprinklers together in the future as well.

[221bshrlocked]

floating senses

Pairings: Hunter x Fem!Reader

Words: 1943

Warnings: Hunter experiences sensory overload. Talk of anxiety and panic attacks. Love confessions. Lots of touching. Implied smut...very implied. Like this is as implied as smut will get with me and that says a lot.

Summary: Something upset him so deeply that he couldn’t stand being in the presence of anyone.

A/N: I am feeling some type of way and this is the product of said, unknown feelings. Enjoy my lovely clone simps.

Something was wrong. You weren’t really sure what could have possibly happened that caused Hunter to drop what was in his hand so abruptly, and run away from you and the group. All you knew was that something must have happened that had him sprinting down the pathways and away from the city. You had noticed how uptight he was in the morning, but thought it was probably due to how busy the market tended to be during the early hours of the day. But as the hours rolled by, his eyebrows grew more furrowed, and his jaw tensed as if he was tasked with an impossible mission. Normally, Hunter was a controlled man, even in the most stressful of environments. He seldom let the situations get out of hand from him, and even then, he would voice out his concerns just to gain a different perspective. 

But this was different. 

Something upset him so deeply that he couldn’t stand being in the presence of anyone. 

“Where is he going?” Omega asks as she finishes helping Wrecker carry the rest of the supplies. She is about to follow Hunter when you hold out your hand, signaling her to stop and let you handle the situation. 

“Stay here, I’ll go and see what he needs.” You smile reassuringly at her and stand up from your kneeling position, nodding at Wrecker and Tech before walking towards the path Hunter took to the shore. 

As you descend the city, you can’t help but admire the colors of the sky as the sun sets far deep into the ocean, painting the clouds with pastels and shining stars. By the time you reach the beach, you get the sense that you’ll need to be patient and careful with Hunter. Although you’d been with the Batch for some time now, you knew that Hunter didn’t grow easy around people quickly. In fact, you found him the hardest to convince of your good, unselfish intentions. 

When you feel the warm sand beneath your feet, you take your shoes off and place them at the dock before continuing to where you knew Hunter liked to meditate. 

Normally, when he feels someone approaching him, Hunter announces his knowledge, either by asking his visitor a question or remarking on how loud they are. You found it funny that he tended to speak first, knowing that it was probably for the benefit of whoever was interrupting his alone time so they don’t jump in fear when they see him all of a sudden. 

But the closer you get to his spot, the more uneasy you become, mostly because you could hear the man groaning in pain. Forgoing the initial plan of approaching him softly, you run towards the large boulders near the edge of the forest until you come across Hunter’s body kneeling in the sand. 

“Kriff,” you swear beneath your breath, sprinting towards him and falling beside his heaving body to let him know that he isn’t alone. Hunter initially twitches away from you, shaking his head and falling to the ground as soon as he feels your hands reach for his shoulder. 

“It’s me Hunter, it’s just me. I’m here!” You whisper against his shoulder, knowing that voicing out your concerns might worsen his sensory overload. He shakes violently underneath the touch of your hands, but as soon as he glances to the side and sees how calm and worried your features are, he melts into your embrace and lets go of his chest. 

His hands shoot to the front of your shirt, and you prepare yourself for being thrown off of him, but the opposite happens. Hunter takes one look into your eyes and crashes against your chest, clinging onto you for dear life until you have no option but wrap your arms around him and part your thighs so he can settle in between them. His body is vibrating with energy, and you want nothing more than to talk him through whatever anxiety boiling through his body. But you remind yourself that any extra noise will make things worse, so instead of calming him the way you sometimes do with Wrecker or Omega, you decide to let your touch do the work for you. 

Taking a deep breath, you slowly move your hand across his shoulder and back, waiting until he gets used to the sensation before slipping your other hand into his hair and massaging his scalp. Hunter hisses in the beginning, his body begging him to remove himself from you so you don’t witness him during such a vulnerable, weak moment. But he wills himself to stay still in your arms, allowing you to drive his fears and sensitivity away. 

You don’t dare look down at him, knowing that he probably already hates you having a front row seat to his anxiety. Instead, you think of the colors etched across the skies, allowing the soft sound of the waves coming to the shore calm the both of you so you don’t cry from how deeply you feel for the man. You’re not sure how long you lay there with Hunter in your arms, but when his body relaxes further into you, and his pained whines turned into deep, guttural groans, you know that he’s moved past whatever it was that sent him over the edge so cruelly. 

Except the more you move your hands up and down his back, and the harder you dig your nails into the hair at the nape of his neck, Hunter can’t help but groan against your sternum, his breaths coming out hot and heavy against the little bit of skin peeking through the buttons of your shirt. His breathing is becoming erratic again, except unlike before, his body isn’t shaking from the violent sensory overload, but a more pleasant buzzing coursing through his veins. 

The moment you realize what you’ve unintentionally done, you stop your ministrations and begin to detach your hands from his person. 

“Please…d-don’t. I- I need to…I need you to stay,” his words are broken, voice hoarse from how dry his throat has become, as if he’s been talking for the past hours. You’re shocked by the turn of the events, but you’re more surprised by how comfortable Hunter is with you. You knew that he’d learn how to trust you at some point, but you never thought the trust would run so deep to the point where he’d willingly move past such a rigid line along with you. 

“Hunter…you’re not thinking clearly right now.” You firmly respond, waiting until he looks up through heavy-lidded eyes and stares into your slowly dilating pupils.

“You- you’re the reason I ran away.” 

It’s far from what you expected him to say, now of all times. You thought he’d tell you that he’s thinking clearly, or perhaps beg you some more in that sinful, gruff voice of his, maybe even tell you to just end his misery and do this once before you return to the city.

You must be staring at him with shock and confusion, because Hunter tenses his jaw and looks away from you. 

“I was thinking about how caring you are with Omega, how much patience you have for Tech…even when he’s unknowingly insulting you…how sweet you tend to be with Wrecker, especially when he has nightmares.”

You can’t find the words to respond to Hunter, so you remain silent, willing him to continue explaining himself so your brain doesn’t explode from the sudden confession. 

“And, you’re always so understanding with me…as if I haven’t been cold to you ever since you joined.” You don’t like the way he describes himself, so you finally break your silence and push him off of you until you can get a better look at him. 

“I know it’s difficult to trust new people, especially now when your lives are at stake. I would- maker Hunter, I would never fault you for being extra careful. You’re just looking after your brothers…after Omega.”

“There…that’s what made me run away.” He cuts you off, and a part of you is unsure as to why that could possibly make him leave. 

“I was thinking of you, mesh’la…until I finally understood why I don’t want to let you in.” It’s your turn to breathe harshly, chest rising and falling rapidly with every word Hunter bestows upon you. Looking at him now, you’re unable to hold back from admiring how boyish yet rugged he still looks as the pastels across the skies above you shine over his handsome, sharp features. His hair falls perfectly over his bronze skin, framing his deep, hazel eyes and chiseled jaw so perfectly that you can’t stop yourself from leaning down and kissing his aquiline nose. 

His breath hitches at the gentle touch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was already lying in your arms, Hunter thinks he may have fallen into your embrace if the two of you were standing and you decided to pull that little stunt. When you pull away, far too soon to his liking, Hunter lets out a shaky breath and smiles softly at you. 

“I’ve let you in a long time ago sweetheart, and I’m done pretending I don’t want you.” 

The sureness with which he reveals that last bit of his heart to you nearly sends you into overdrive, and you blink the tears away before you ask him one last time, wanting him to be sure of what he’s saying. 

“You want me?” Your voice shakes as you ask, afraid that he’ll come to his senses all of a sudden and tell you that he didn’t mean any of what he just said. But Hunter doesn’t waste another second, sitting up and moving closer to you until there is barely any space between your lips and his own. 

“Desperately.” He whispers against your lips before he engulfs you completely, the passion he exerts over your body forcing you onto your back. You part your lips for him instantly, combing your hands into his hair and tugging on it when he slips his tongue inside our mouth and tastes you. 

You’d later tell him that the ease with which he confessed to you his feelings nearly made you fall over in tears, but you set the thought aside now, wanting to cherish the moment until it’s ingrained in your mind. 

When Hunter pulls away, you open your eyes and find him studying you closely. You think it was probably his turn to overthink matters, and before he can apologize for how forward he’s being, you pull him back down and pray his name as you kiss along his jaw and neck. You barely hold back from giggling when you feel his elbows buckle, sending him flush against your chest until you hate access to the skin showing from beneath his shirt. 

“S-sweetheart.” His voice is dangerously low, but you continue to map his scars with teasing kisses and little bites, wanting him to completely surrender himself to you. 

“Hunter…” You moan in return, smiling to yourself when he groans in response to the lewd pronunciation of his name. 

“I need you, cyare. I need you so kriffing badly.” He growls into the cool dusk air, hands grasping at your shoulders to get you to ease off of him if only for a moment. 

“Then take me.” You respond instantly, letting go of him so you can lay your head back down against the sand of the shores. Hunter snaps his gaze at you, once again scrutinizing your features and body language so there can be no room for any misunderstandings. 

“Fucking finally.”

[necrotic-nephilim]

"How else am I supposed to learn if you don't punish me?" With Jason x Bruce ship pls 🙏

send a quote and a ship and I'll write a short fic!

fucked up BruJay my beloved. this is. honestly more emotional whump than physical and the romance is implied, but i do like this piece a lot, even if i struggled with it a bit. have 2.2k of Bruce and Jason struggling to get along. enjoy <3

Sometimes, Jason did it on purpose.

He knew Bruce’s patrol route better than anyone. Which was by design. Jason wanted to know where Bruce was, what he was doing, and who he was doing it with at all times. And really, Bruce didn’t seem to be stopping Jason from keeping tabs. None of Jason’s carefully placed trackers were removed, and Jason knew better than to assume Bruce had lost his touch. Bruce knew they were there, and he knew they were Jason’s.

So if Jason wanted to avoid Bruce, he knew how to do it. And when he really did want to get work done under Bruce’s nose, it was easy for Jason to dance around Bruce’s schedule and send him tail spinning just trying to keep up with Jason.

But some days, Jason didn’t want to avoid Bruce. He wanted the thrill of the chase.

So he got caught on purpose.

He picked a gang on the side of town Bruce always patrolled at this hour. He used the loudest guns he had with no silencers. He started the messiest brawl he could.

And he waited.

Jason didn’t have to wait long.

Like it always was with Bruce, the entrance was dramatic. Shattering glass as a large form with an unfurled cape descended from the skylight. Jason smiled under his helmet.

There were already at least half a dozen dead. The rest were running around like ants, either trying to get away from Jason or futilely trying to fight him.

“You’re late!” Jason shouted over his shoulder. He dodged a batarang thrown in his general direction. “I expected you to get here at least five minutes earlier.”

“Robbery a block away,” Bruce said brusquely. He turned to a few gang members with tire irons and shivs lifted, ready to charge Jason. “Run. Now.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Jason raised his gun to shoot one. He wasn’t particular about who he picked. He knew it didn’t matter. The bullet wouldn’t actually hit them.

Because just on time as Jason squeezed the trigger, a batarang buried into his hand. He swore and dropped the gun.

“Enough, Hood,” Bruce said coldly.

Jason smiled under his mask. “Someone’s gotta clean up this city.” He lunged for another thug.

Bruce’s body was like a battering ram, slamming into Jason. He was heavy enough to knock the wind out of Jason, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Jason groaned, trying to throw Bruce off of him. When that didn’t work, he went for his belt, grabbing his kris dagger and flipping it around.

“Do you hold any value for human life?” Bruce demanded. He grabbed Jason’s wrist and pinned it against the ground. “These aren’t supervillains, they’re normal people down on their luck-”

Before Bruce could finish talking, one of the gang members bashed him over the head with a wooden plank. Bruce’s cowl was reinforced, but the little bastard had managed to hit hard enough to snap the plank clean in half. A grunt was forced out of Bruce and his whole body buckled.

Now that was just rude. Bruce was Jason’s meat, not some stupid punk’s. Possessive jealousy flared through Jason, watching Bruce wince in pain to a wound Jason didn’t give him.

“Yeah, they seem real grateful to their savior,” Jason sneered. He threw Bruce off of him and grabbed the gang member. A wiry thing, probably still a teenager. Jason twisted them around to hold his dagger against their throat with his fingers buried into their hair, holding them still. A horrified noise came out of them. Not that Jason particularly cared. He wasn’t the one stupid enough to try beaning Batman with some plywood.

Bruce was on one knee, looking up at Jason. “Don’t.” His fingers twitched toward his utility belt.

“You can’t stop me,” Jason taunted, pressing the blade against tender flesh until the person was squirming in his grasp and blubbering out incoherent pleas for mercy. “Hands where I can see ‘em, B.”

If Jason was anyone else, Bruce would’ve stopped him by now. A quick flick of his wrist to hit Jason with a tranq dart, was how he guessed Bruce would do it.

But he wasn’t just some rogue. He was Jason. And that made Bruce go still, actually listening to Jason’s demands.

“You’re just doing this for attention,” Bruce said carefully, keeping his whole body tense, but not moving it. “Let them go.”

“It’s working.” Jason shrugged, adjusting his hold on the stranger. “So can you blame me?”

“There are other ways to do it without-” Bruce briefly looked around the room at the bodies littered everywhere- “casualties. And innocent hostages.”

“Innocent?” Jason laughed. He turned to address the person he was holding. “Do you think you’re innocent? Why don’t you tell the Batman where these drugs were getting funneled.”

“I don’t- please, I just help packaging- I didn’t-”

Jason huffed in annoyance. “I’ll tell him for you. The middle school down the street. And if there was extra supply, the youth center just around the corner from it too. You remember that youth center don’t you, B? I slept there sometimes as a kid. It was warmer than the streets.”

Bruce’s mouth faintly twitched. His jaw was set. Jason could see him grappling with the rage of knowing exactly who these low lives were dealing to, while still wanting to tell Jason off for all the ugly murder.

How contradictory that nasty little moral code of his could be.

“Let them go,” Bruce spoke slowly, “and we’ll work together to figure out how-”

“Oh don’t even pretend,” Jason laughed. “Don’t pretend you would work with me for a second.”

“Let them go,” Bruce repeated. He seemed to pointedly avoid admitting to Jason’s point.

Jason let out a long hum like he was thinking about it. “I don’t know. What’s one more to my body count?” He started to press the blade.

Bruce moved inhumanely fast. He kicked up, knocking the knife out of Jason’s hand without hitting the gang member. His hands went for Jason’s throat and he managed to get Jason back on the ground. The gang member ran off, footsteps echoing until they were gone while Jason and Bruce grappled, trading punches and kicks until Bruce managed to pin Jason down. Blood was pouring from Jason’s nose and Bruce had human claw marks across his cheek.

Rough. Animalistic. Just the way Jason liked it.

“Why do you do this?” Bruce spoke through grit teeth. “Why do you make me do this?”

“Like you said,” Jason grunted, trying to twist out from Bruce. “I like the attention.” His struggles only got him pinned harder. Bruce forced Jason facedown against the concrete, with an arm twisted behind his back. Jason’s helmet was torn off and tossed to the side.

“I never want to hurt you,” Bruce actually sounded choked up about it. “Why do you have to take it too far every time?”

Jason would give anything to see his face, right now.

“Maybe I want you to hurt me,” Jason said. He looked at his hand resting against the concrete, blood still pouring out of the wound the batarang left. it was a bright, pulsing pain that danced across his reality, making his blood sing. He hoped it would scar. Another to add to the collection of ones he’d goaded Bruce into giving him.

“Why?” Bruce’s voice broke on the word. It was an ironic thing. How badly Bruce wanted to show Jason his mercy. His gentle side. And how badly Jason wanted Bruce’s violence. He wanted Bruce to fight Jason until Bruce’s knuckles were bloody and Jason was barely conscious. He wanted to feel Bruce’s violence down to the marrow.

Jason craned his head back to look at Bruce and smiled. “How else am I supposed to learn if you don’t punish me?”

Bruce stared. For a long moment, he was silent. Jason listened to his breathing like a lifeline. “You don’t actually believe that.” his voice was soft and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to concern.

Sentimental bastard.

“No,” Jason admitted. “We both know I’ll never learn.”

To prove his point, Jason grabbed a stray piece of glass from the ground and stabbed it into one of the weak spots on Bruce’s armor. It made Bruce’s grip loosen enough for Jason to roll free and try to kick Bruce in the face.

Bruce wasn’t fighting him. He only blocked Jason’s blows, and even then, let some of them hit. It was like fighting a brick wall. Hard and unrelenting.

It was starting to piss Jason off.

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me now, Bruce,” Jason said through grit teeth, throwing another punch. It sailed uselessly over Bruce’s shoulder when Bruce easily dodged.

“No.” Bruce’s expression was unreadable under his mask. “I’m not playing your game, Jason.”

“Damnit!” Jason could feel his anger threatening to take control. He kicked Bruce hard in the shin, forcing the man to his knees. Jason ripped Bruce’s cowl off. He wasn’t stopped by Bruce. Hard blue eyes stared up at him. Practically emotionless. “I know you hate me. I know you’re itching to rip my head off for…” Jason spread his arms, gesturing to all the bodies. “For this! For everything I’ve done.”

Bruce shook his head, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. “I don’t hate you, Jason. I could never-” He doubled over when Jason’s knee connected with his stomach.

“Well you definitely don’t love me,” Jason snapped, ice dripping from his tone. “If you did… if you loved me, you would let me have this.”

“Killing people?”

“Hurting me,” Jason corrected. He snatched his kris off the floor from where it’d fallen to. He stared at the blade. “I’m sick of your pacificism. I’m sick of you pretending you don’t crave hurting someone and pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’ve never pretended,” Bruce looked at Jason through careful, hooded eyes. “That want… that need has always been a part of me. I take too much pleasure in hurting people. Pleasure in believing they deserve it.” He studied Jason for a moment. “I never wanted it to consume you the way it consumes me. Because I know it’s something you can’t come back from, once it takes root.”

Jason hated it when Bruce waxed poetic. It was a whole lot of bullshit that meant nothing to Jason. It did nothing to fight the roar of rage building in Jason’s chest.

“Do you want to hurt me?” Jason asked.

He needed Bruce to say yes.

He knew Bruce wouldn’t.

Even if it was the truth. Which now, Jason wasn’t so sure.

Bruce was silent. He didn’t give Jason any answer, not even a change in expression. Bruce just pushed himself to his feet and looked at his cowl that Jason was still holding.

“I love you, Jason,” Bruce said. He grabbed the cowl, but Jason didn’t let go. “I want to help you. Please let me help you in any other way that’s not… this.” Bruce’s thumb brushed over the still bleeding gash on Jason’s hand.

Jason tightened his grip on the cowl. “I’m not giving you the free pass to sleep easy at night,” he hissed. “You can’t take back any of the scars you’ve given me. And we both know sooner or later, there will be new ones.”

Bruce tore the cowl out of Jason’s hand. Before putting it on, he started to reach out for Jason’s face, but seemed to think against it, hand abruptly dropping. He opened his mouth to say something. An apology, probably.

A muffled, crackly voice came from inside the cowl. A police scanner, by the sounds of it. Jason only caught the words bomb threat and hostages.

So much for Bruce’s attention.

“Come with me?” Bruce offered, pulling his cowl on.

Jason shook his head. “You know you don’t want me there.”

“I always want you-” Bruce cut himself off, seeming to realize how dangerously vulnerable his words were. “The offer to come to me will always be open, Jason. You know that.”

Jason’s fist curled and his blood dripped onto the concrete. “Go to hell.”

Like that, the intimacy was gone. Bruce put his emotional mask back on to go with his physical one and turned heel, walking away. Jason just watched him go, some part of him foolishly waiting for Bruce to turn back and say something. Anything. He could get any other hero to handle the bomb threat. He could spare Jason just a few more moments of arguing and fighting. Maybe even something more.

But of course, he didn’t.

[obsessed-loverboy]

please love me back. please love me back. please love me back. our life together could be so beautiful. don't you want a beautiful life with someone endlessly in love with you? don't you want the safety and security of my soft arms and warm heartbeat welcoming you home? I may not be perfect for you but you're utterly gorgeous inside and out, and maybe we could be perfect together <33

think about it, won't you?

[moonspirit]

I haven't seen this mentioned all that much, but Armin with steam related PTSD

During Liberio he actually had enough time to come down from an attack and also was in panic mode most of it

But post canon ( and pre rumbling) Armin being careful around tea, not bcs he thinks it'll hurt him, but bcs it's way too familiar. Levi starting ( and the others picking up) to brew tea for him as like, a love language.

Armin having the luxury if hot baths but not the courage to try them.

Or during Liberio, Armin looking at the people and fully understanding Bertholds thoughts of " I'll steam it super strong so it'll be fast"

Generally, Armin having some trauma related to That One Time He Did Die.

Hello!

Ooooooooooooooooohhhhh this is great omg!!!

Makes a lot of sense tbh! He was burnt alive in Shiganshina; even his blades melted off into the air from the temperatures, but he was still trying to stay conscious through most of it to buy Eren as much time as possible, only letting go when his anchors detached, I think. Suffering third degree burns of that severity, I can't even begin to imagine the sheer extent of mind-numbing pain he must have felt all the while until the nerve endings on his skin were burned off and he lost consciousness.

It's very likely he'd remember even after waking up as a shifter, the sensation of steam eating its way through his skin. Transforming into the Colossal might've been an uphill task too because of the walking steam machine he'd be cocooning himself in. We never actually get to see the times he transformed except for Liberio and the final battle, but there must have been many (especially for learning how to use it) and oh dear god, how did he ever get through those? TT___TT

But he becomes, essentially, the very same thing that burned him to death.

PTSD of such kind lasts for a long, long time. Years and years. A gust of hot wind blasting at his neck on a very hot summer day, and he's flinching. The steam rising from a harmless cup of coffee, and his skin crawls, preparing to melt. When he's running very high fevers and everything's hazy and too hot, he thinks he's burning again, caught in an inescapable fire. On chilly days, that hot water bath would be good for his body, but he's scared of never coming back from it.

He's only human now. What power and what titan will help him?

If he burns to death now, he won't come back to life.

In that regard, the others taking care that he's never exposed to very high temperatures at any time, making sure his coffee and baths are only either cool or lukewarm, is indeed a love language.

They almost lost him once, to certain death. They don't want to lose him to these nightmares now.

[blushes-and-gropes]

I want nothing more then to have a cute subby boy kneeling at my feet. Wearing a pretty collar and leash I would force him to look up at me, relishing in how his face blushes in embarrassment at how easy it is for me to get him to obey.

As I look down at him I'd yank the leash, pulling him into me as I call him my good boy. Reaching down with my other hand I'd pull his hair and tell him to say thank you for the privilege of being my toy <3

[chilledagridolce27]

no because why is elemental the literal embodiment of the absolute PRESSURE 1st & 2nd gen migrant kids face? the overwhelming reality of the unfathomable and tremendous sacrifice your parents made to give you the opportunities they never had...the weight of all that expectation to not only succeed but to succeed excellently because you are the culmination of generations of hopes and dreams, of blood, sweat and tears... The hopelessness of wondering how you could EVER pay back that kind of sacrifice and loss? the desperate need to be strong and do it anyway? The frantic desire to never disappoint, to never be the reason they regret it all... The constant internal struggle between your dreams and their legacy, your desires vs weight of their sacrifice, your future vs their past?? The burden of having to carry all of that and hating yourself for hating it because how could you spit in the face of all that sacrifice???! Why can't you just be grateful??!!

I'm a bad daughter

[kennyomegasweave]

My exact reaction to Tong's sad face and "I'm sorry" after breaking up with May.

I legit said it out loud at my TV and everything. Fuck him. I want him dead. I've wanted him dead for EPISODES now.

[shinshoyu]

thinking abt johnny finding a little hole in the wall japanese grocery store in the middle of L.A. and excitedly taking kenshi so he can peruse the shelves and pick up foods he's missed

[ottosuwuen]

Here's a magnificent piece of Vincent and Prisca that I commissioned from Rokaroka. I wanted something that portrayed the essence of the imperial siblings' weird yet cute relationship, which the artist managed to do in a way that left me more than satisfied.