#* ⠀⠀ ❀ ⠀⠀ ꒰ ⠀⠀ answered ↝ memes. ⠀⠀ ꒱

[orcboxer]

I like how the "Welcome Back" meme always lines up death days with birthdays, because it implies that souls only attach to hosts that have already exited the womb. Perhaps amniotic fluid repels souls (how could we use this?), or perhaps souls cannot differentiate between mother and child until the umbilical cord is severed. But I imagine the most common explanation would be that the soul enters the body via inhalation (at first breath), which would make the soul an airborne parasite. But to answer your question, no I cannot explain the gap in my resume.

[destiel-news-channel]

[Image ID: The Destiel confession meme edited so that Dean answers 'They announced a supernatural comic'. /End ID]

[tommysparkles]

ohh can I have 48. …out of habit. for BT for the kiss meme 🙏

Yes!! I love it. Also, sorry, this ended up way longer than intended. They always do, lol.

"....and I got out of the helicopter and this kid is just looking at me like I'm the coolest thing he's ever seen," Tommy's saying with a smile on his face that Buck is no longer supposed to find adorable.

Or can he? Can you find your ex-boyfriend's smile adorable after you've agreed to just be friends? He's not really sure, but he supposes he'll just...not let anyone know he does. Yeah. He'll be cool and composed about the fact that he hates that he and Tommy are just friends.

"Too bad that kid doesn't know how very much not cool you actually are," Buck teases.

Tommy laughs. "Hey!"

"Oh, Tommy," Hen says with a good-natured smile. "Remember the old 118 days? You forget we've seen you at 4 am, without caffeine."

Yeah, Buck has too; they're not special.

Then he mentally slaps himself. Stop that.

The friends thing is fairly new, after all, so Buck tries not to be too hard on himself. And the reasons that Tommy suggested it were all perfectly reasonable, after, well everything, but Buck is sitting next to him in this booth, remembering how nights like this used to end with one of them going home with the other, cuddling, sex, and whispered words...

He's shaken from his reverie when Tommy bumps his shoulder, shooting him a concerned look while Eddie, Hen and Chimney are all giving him expressions that are far too knowing for his liking.

"You okay?" Tommy asks sincerely.

"Yeah," Buck answers, trying to be as casual as he can. "Yeah, I'm good."

Tommy doesn't look like he completely believes him, but lets it go. "Okay, well, I should head out. Thanks for the invite, guys. Cute kid notwithstanding, it's been a weird week."

"Yeah, man," Eddie says, toasting him with his beer bottle. "We're glad you could make it. You good to get home?"

Tommy waves him away. "Ordered an Uber."

Huh. Buck hadn't noticed that.

Before he can think too much on it, though, Tommy leans in, and, almost without thinking, plants a sweet kiss on Buck's mouth.

Tommy seems to realize what he's done the second they make contact. He freezes and so does Buck. The whole table is absolutely silent.

Then Tommy's pulling away, mumbling about needing to go, and he's out of the booth like there's a fire at his ass. It's probably a good thing he was on the end, because he might have literally pushed someone out to get out of the bar.

Tommy's gone and Buck looks at everyone else.

"What?" he says nonsensically.

He watches as Eddie sighs and turns to Hen and Chim. "Is it time to make it known that they're both idiots, or...?"

Hen sighs. "Buck, if you don't go after him, we're all going to throw something at you. In fact, I will go to Harbor and throw something at Tommy too."

Buck is out of the booth like a shot, following in Tommy's wake. When he gets outside, he panics for a moment, thinking that the Uber Tommy ordered must have come already, but he spots him off to the side of the parking lot like he's doing his best to hide and Buck rushes over.

"Tommy!"

When Tommy sees him, a look of panic crosses his face, but he doesn't move. Buck takes that as a good sign.

"Please," Buck says breathlessly. "Don't go."

"Evan," Tommy says, sounding a little desperate. "God, I'm so sorry. It...I just did it...it felt like it made sense at the time. I wasn't thinking-"

"Tommy," Buck breaks in. "Kiss me again."

Tommy stops talking, blinks at him like a very large owl. Buck thinks he's ridiculously cute. Again.

"What?" Tommy asks.

Buck walks toward him, close enough that either one of them could reach out and grab the other by the hips, just like they used to. He doesn't touch him, though; this feels like a make-or-break moment and, God, Buck wants to make it.

"Kiss me," Buck whispers. "Please."

Tommy only hesitates for a moment before he cups Buck's face and leans in for a soft kiss.

Buck puts his hands on his hips, kisses him back and revels in the taste of the nachos and craft beer and just the pure taste of Tommy.

He's missed it so much.

When they break away, it's like a mutual decision, leaning their foreheads together, breathing the same air.

"I know that I said I wanted to be friends," Tommy says softly. "But, I just...don't know if I can do that."

"Me neither," Buck answers. "I agreed to it because I thought that's the only way I could get you."

Tommy's laugh is rueful. "And I suggested it because I didn't want to pressure you after everything that happened."

Buck shrugs. "Sometimes it's okay to pressure me a little.

Tommy grins. "Yeah?"

Buck can't help it, leans in and kisses him again. "Yeah."

"Uber's on the way," Tommy says. "I-uh-didn't actually order it until I got out here. I was trying to be cool with you in there, but then I kissed you like I'd been picturing and--"

Buck looks at him in surprise. "You were picturing kissing me?"

"Evan, I accidentally kissed you in front of everyone," Tommy points out. "I picture kissing you all the time."

Buck laughs and shakes his head. They really are both so stupid. "Can I come with you? We can talk?"

Tommy thinks about this. "And kiss some more?"

Buck shrugs, knows he isn't actually projecting the nonchalance he doesn't feel. "If you play your cards right."

Tommy kisses his forehead. "I'll do my best."

Buck squeezes him tight. "I know you will."

[thewosocollective1]

jealousy

The sun was high over Ciutat Esportiva, casting sharp shadows across the pitch where the senior team warmed up. Maya González stood just outside the rondo circle, toes nudging the grass, silently gnawing the inside of her cheek as her eyes followed one pair in particular.

Vicky López and Alexia Putellas.

Again.

They were laughing—like, the kind of laughing that made Maya irrationally annoyed. Vicky kept nudging Alexia in the ribs between touches, and Alexia leaned in to say something that made Vicky squeal and cover her face with her sleeve. The ball rolled past, untouched. They didn’t even care. They were lost in their own little bubble of sparkly midfield chemistry and inside jokes Maya wasn’t invited to.

Not that she wanted to be.

Except she very much did.

She knew it was ridiculous. Vicky and Alexia trained together all the time. They were close. Really close. But lately it felt like Maya had been replaced as the chaos sidekick in Alexia’s life. For the last few days, Alexia had posted workout clips with Vicky, tagged her in memes, called her "mi arquitecta" and didn’t even add Maya to the group chat where they were planning tactical fun-passes for the upcoming match

Now, standing stiffly on the sidelines, Maya watched as Vicky flicked the ball behind her leg and Alexia clapped dramatically.

“¡Vamos, Vicky! That’s insane!”

Maya rolled her eyes so hard they nearly fell out.

“What’s up with your vibe today?” Mapi León asked, walking up next to her.

“I’m fine,” Maya said.

Mapi paused. “You’re literally squeezing your shin guards like they insulted your mom.”

Maya looked down at her hands. “I’m just focused.”

“Oh,” Mapi grinned, “focused on Alexia and Vicky’s Bestie Hour?”

Maya sighed. “It’s not bestie hour. It’s tactical development. I just think they should include me. As a part of team unity. For democracy.”

Mapi snorted. “Okay, President Jealousy.”

Nearby, the rondo broke up. Vicky and Alexia walked toward the benches together, still smiling, still radiating the sunshine of shared midfield wavelengths. Vicky paused to tie her shoelace, and Alexia ruffled her hair before walking off.

Maya practically chewed the inside of her soul.

Pau Cubarsí—who happened to be visiting the Femení session—to blink in alarm.

He was Maya’s oldest friend—the one who knew the difference between her “I’m tired” and her “I’m drowning.”

And right now? She was sinking.

He caught up with her during cooldown, grabbing her towel and tossing it at her like always. But instead of her usual “thanks, loser,” she just muttered and sat down, back toward everyone.

That was the final straw.

Pau sat beside her, stealing a breath. “Okay. Spill.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lying with the posture of a building in ruins.”

She shot him a glare but didn’t answer.

Then vicky passed by them laughing, making maya roll her eyes

“So…” Pau continued carefully, “What did Vicky do? Or say? Or breathe?”

Maya stiffened. That was the bullseye.

Pau blinked slowly. “Es ella, ¿no?”

Maya didn’t look at him. “They’re always together. Laughing. Hugging. Inside jokes. And me? I’m just an extra chair in the room. I see it and I smile like it doesn’t cut. But it does.”

Pau leaned back on his elbows. “You know Alexia loves you.”

“I know,” Maya whispered. “But lately I feel like I’m the kid she outgrew. Like I was the special chapter until Vicky became the sequel.”

Pau reached over and flicked her forehead—not hard, just enough. “You’re not a chapter. You’re the headline. Vicky’s a footnote.”

Maya snorted, half laughing, half crumbling. “It’s not her fault. She’s amazing. And funny. And tactical.”

“And not you,” Pau added gently. “Which is why Alexia will come back. She always does. Your chaos is her favorite season.”

Maya finally turned to face him, eyes glassy. “Do you think she noticed how I avoid her now?”

“Noticed? She asked me twice today if you were mad or just constipated. She’s worried. She loves you.”

Maya laughed—shaky, but real.

Then, from across the field, Alexia looked over. Her gaze met Maya’s for the first time in two days. It held something soft. Concern. A pull. Not guilt—something deeper.

“She’s waiting for you,” Pau whispered.

“Maybe,” Maya replied. “Or maybe I just need to stop sulking and talk like a functioning human.”

Pau stood, offered her a hand, and grinned. “Start functioning after churros?”

Maya took his hand, stood up, and said, “Churros solve 73% of my emotional issues.”

As they walked toward the bench together, Maya stole one last glance at Alexia and whispered to herself—quiet, almost inaudible:

“I just missed being her favorite.”

____

Maya spent the whole week spiraling into a silent storm of feelings—jealousy tangled with guilt, confusion dressed up as stubborn pride. And Alexia? She’d been patient, but distant. Like she knew something was wrong and was waiting for Maya to speak it first.

Alexia entered the room holding two mugs—one chamomile for herself, one chocolate milk for Maya, who always pretended it was juvenile but drank it faster than water.

She handed Maya the mug, then sat beside her. No words. Just warm silence.

Maya exhaled.

“I was mad at you,” she said finally, voice half-buried in the hoodie she was wearing—Alexia’s hoodie, of course.

“I figured,” Alexia replied softly.

“You’ve been spending so much time with Vicky... and Jana... and it’s like I just disappeared.”

Alexia didn’t flinch. “You didn’t disappear. I saw you every day.”

“But not really,” Maya whispered. “Not like before.”

Alexia rested her mug on the table and turned to her.

“You think I love them more?”

Maya shrugged. “Not more. Just... newer. Less complicated.”

Alexia scooted closer, pulled Maya’s knees toward her chest, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

“Mimi,” she said, using the nickname that only existed between them. “You’re my chaos. My home. My leftover hoodie thief. Vicky is brilliant and Jana is fierce, but you—you are heart. You’re family. You’re the sound of my mornings and the curl in my Fridays.”

Maya’s eyes prickled, but she refused to blink.

“I didn’t want to admit I felt jealous. It felt childish.”

Alexia chuckled. “Jealousy isn’t childish. It’s just love wrapped in insecurity. It happens. You’re not less for feeling it.”

Maya leaned into her. “I just want to be enough.”

“You’re not enough,” Alexia said quietly. “You’re more. Always have been.”

There was silence after that, but not the heavy kind. It was soft. Safe.

Maya picked up her chocolate milk and took a long sip.

“Vicky’s still annoying, though.”

“I’ll allow it,” Alexia smirked.

[wbbwhorez]

More than you think

Warnings: smut

You weren’t supposed to be here.

Not in Georgia’s apartment. Not under her. Not with your fingers buried in her hair as she dragged her mouth down your neck. Not still doing this—whatever this is—after you both promised it was casual.

But that’s what it’s always been like with Georgia Amoore. Promises made in breathless moans and broken by sunrise.

“Missed you,” she mutters, but you pretend you don’t hear it. She’s not supposed to say that.

You tangle your legs with hers. Her sheets smell like eucalyptus and sex and everything that feels like home, but isn’t. She bites down on your collarbone, and it makes you gasp, your body betraying you with how much you want her.

“Still sore from last night?”

You nod. “Didn’t stop you then.”

She grins against your skin. “Not planning on stopping now."

---

Two Weeks Earlier

You met Georgia at a team party—Azzi introduced you, said you made the best flat whites in D.C. She made some dumb joke about Australians and espresso, but Georgia just raised an eyebrow and asked if you were single.

You were. At the time.

It started with a drunken kiss outside your coffee shop. Then her showing up on your break. Then the first time she came over, and neither of you made it past the kitchen.

But from the beginning, it was rules.

No sleeping over (she always did).

No texting unless it was about plans (she sent memes at 2 AM).

No feelings (you were both drowning in them).

---

Now

Georgia’s lips trail down your stomach. Your hand is in her hair, the other fisting the sheets. You arch into her touch and pretend this is just about getting off. Pretend her eyes don’t soften when she looks at you. Pretend you didn’t hear her heart racing when you kissed her.

“Fuck,” she groans when you tug her hair.

You don’t mean to whisper, “Stay tonight.”

But you do.

She hesitates. That’s all the answer you need.

You sit up. “Never mind.”

She looks at you, eyes darker than before. “Why do you keep asking for more when you know I can’t give it?”

You laugh, bitter. “Because I thought maybe one night you’d want to.”

The Morning After,you leave without waking her. Her arm falls into the empty space where you used to be. She doesn’t call. You don’t text.

You try to move on. Hook up with someone else. But it doesn’t work.

Georgia shows up at your job a week later. No coffee. Just her. Standing there in her Mystics hoodie, looking like regret.

“I shouldn’t have left it like that,” she says.

You shake your head. “You left it exactly how you always do.”

“I don’t know how to be what you want.”

You stare at her. “I never asked you to be anything but honest.”

She takes a deep breath. “Then here it is—I’m terrified. Of how much I want you. Of how much this isn’t casual anymore.”

Your breath catches.

“I tried to keep it physical,” she continues. “But you smile at me like you know all my secrets. And I sleep better when you're here. And when I see you with someone else, it fuckin' wrecks me.”

You don’t say anything. Just stare.

Then she says, soft: “Let me try. For real."

Later that night, in bed,Georgia’s fingers brush over your waist as she pulls you close in bed. No sex tonight. Just skin. Just her nose pressed to your shoulder.

You finally ask. “You staying?”

She kisses your spine.

"Im never leaving again."

She doesn’t leave.

Not this time.

Not when the air between you is thick with something more than heat, something deeper than just the usual ache of want. Not when you’re looking at her like she’s the only god you’ve ever prayed to.

Her mouth crashes into yours before another word can spill out. It’s not sweet—it’s hungry. It’s desperate. Her hands are already sliding under your shirt, fingertips rough from ball after ball stolen off hardwood, and all you can do is gasp against her lips as she lifts the fabric up and over your head like she owns it. Like she owns you.

“You should’ve left,” you whisper, breathless, but your body’s already arching into her touch, traitorous and aching.

“I never fucking could,” she mutters back, dragging her mouth down your jaw, your neck, marking you like she’s signing her name.

And then it’s a blur—your shirt’s gone, hers hits the floor, and suddenly Georgia���s on top of you, thighs pressing into your hips, eyes glazed over with something feral. She kisses you like she’s trying to memorize every breath you take. Tongue, teeth, lips—every inch of her tells you she’s done pretending this doesn’t matter.

You flip her, pinning her wrists above her head, and her smirk fades into something softer. “You always act like this is just sex,” you say, your voice low. “But your body knows better.”

Her breath stutters. “So does yours.”

And then you kiss her again—deeper, slower, dragging it out. Her legs hook around your waist, pulling you flush against her, and the moan she lets out is pure fucking music.

Her hands roam everywhere: gripping your ass, scratching at your back, cupping your jaw like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. And when she grinds up into you, slick and warm and trembling, your control shatters.

You take your time with her. With every inch of skin you’ve touched before but never quite like this. She’s loud tonight—whimpering your name, gasping when your mouth wraps around her nipple, her fingers clawing into your shoulders like she’s trying to stay grounded. And when your hand finally slides down, between her thighs, she’s already soaking for you, hips bucking into your palm.

“You’ve been wanting this,” you murmur, kissing just below her ear. “Every time you said it was nothing.”

She nods, eyes wide, lips parted. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.”

You push two fingers into her, slow but deep, and her back arches off the bed. “Say it,” you demand, curling just right.

Her voice breaks on a moan. “I want you. It’s always been you.”

And when she comes, trembling around your fingers, your name spilling from her lips like it’s the only one she’s ever known, you realize you’re fucked.

Because this isn’t just sex anymore.

Not even close.

[syrecjh]

──★ ˙👻 ̟ !! Oops, I Ghosted Dynamight

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ || katsuki bakugo x reader, fluff

You never believed in karma. Or irony. Or divine punishment.

But there you were—alone in the cramped elevator of your shared pro-hero agency—when the doors slid open and revealed none other than Katsuki fucking Bakugo.

You blinked.

He blinked.

A full second of unspoken internal screaming passed between you.

“Seriously?” he muttered, brows furrowed—visibly surprised, but still somehow obnoxiously composed.

“Yeah. Seriously,” you whispered back, because what else could you possibly say?

You shrank into the farthest corner like the metal paneling might absorb you whole. The elevator suddenly felt ten times smaller. Too warm. Too quiet. You could hear everything—the hum of the ceiling light, the uncomfortable buzz in your chest, and worst of all… his breathing. Calm. Steady. Unbothered.

Without a word, he stepped inside, hit the button for the ninth floor, and leaned back against the opposite wall. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. The doors sealed shut behind him with a soft ding—like the universe locking you into your own personal hell.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks. Not since your third date. Not since he held your hand in public, kissed your forehead, and looked you in the eye like he meant every word when he said:

“I’m not fuckin’ around with you, y’know.”

So naturally… you ghosted him. Like a rational, emotionally available adult.

You panicked.

He was serious.

You were spiraling.

And now, karma had a name, and it was Katsuki Bakugo.

“I thought this thing was always packed in the mornings,” you blurted, your laugh brittle and high-pitched.

“Guess the universe wanted me alone with a coward today.”

You winced. “...Ouch.”

He shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

Silence. Thick. Awful. You stared at the LED numbers, watching them tick upward like a countdown to judgment.

“I was gonna text,” you muttered.

“Oh yeah?” he said, voice dry. “Gonna hit me with a lil thumbs-up emoji? Or ghost me again—but, I dunno, spice it up with a meme this time?”

“…Maybe a cat in a teacup.”

He turned to look at you slowly. His expression could’ve peeled paint. “Hilarious.”

You swallowed. Then he hit you with it.

“You could’ve just said you weren’t interested. I’m not some fuckin’ amateur.”

That one hurt. Because it wasn’t true.

“I just… panicked, okay?” you said, the words tumbling out, raw and breathless.

He scoffed, crossing one booted foot over the other. “Because I took you on three dates and didn’t screw it up?”

“No!” you said—too loud, too quick. “Because it was good, alright?! Too good. You remembered my soup order. You showed up on time. You gave me your scarf when it rained—who does that, Bakugo?!”

He blinked. Then frowned. “What the hell kinda guys were you dating before me?”

You groaned and fiddled with your ID badge to avoid answering. Your eyes wandered. He was in his usual black compression shirt, hero jacket slung casually over one shoulder, hair still damp from his morning shower. And the elevator was warm. Fantastic.

“Look,” you mumbled, “I freaked out. I liked you. I like you. And I freaked out. That’s it.”

Bakugo stared. Just stared. Like he was trying to solve you with his eyes alone.

Then finally:

“So disappearing was your best move? That’s your idea of communication?”

“I thought I was being emotionally mature by not crying,” you snapped.

“That’s pathetic.”

“That’s fair.”

Silence again. Longer this time.

“…You still freakin’ out now?”

You hesitated. “A little.”

He straightened slightly. His voice softened—not gentle, but grounded, steady, unmistakably him.

“Then let me say it again, dumbass. I’m not fuckin’ around with you.”

The words hit differently in the stale elevator air. No dramatic lighting. No romantic soundtrack. Just you, him, and the sound of your heartbeat hammering in your ears.

Ding.

The doors slid open. Ninth floor.

But he didn’t move.

He turned his head slightly toward you, eyebrow raised.

“Well?” he asked, smirk creeping in. “You gettin’ off?”

Your mouth opened. Closed. “...Don’t make me answer that.”

He laughed. An actual, full-body, amused laugh—gravelly and short and unfairly attractive.

“Dinner. Tonight. No ghosting. No freakouts.”

You exhaled slowly. “...Okay.”

His smirk deepened. “Damn right, okay.”

And just before he stepped out, he leaned in—close enough for your breath to hitch, his voice low and hot against your ear.

“See you.”

Then he was gone.

And the elevator doors slid shut, sealing you back into the silence—except now, your pulse was racing for an entirely different reason.

This time…

You weren’t running.

[pop-punklouis]

hi hope this is random q i know lol but ive been looking at old 1d content lately bc i joined in 2022 and never got to experience it when they were still together. i was wondering since you were, what are some of your favorite moments from that era? it doesnt have to be sentimental it can be random or funny or w/e im so jealous of everyone who got to experience it lmao

hello babe!! it's always interesting me to hear how many people joined the fandom after the hiatus and only know the boys solo. sometimes it makes me feel old wah BUT let me look through the rolodex of my brain for some of my personal highlights that aren't always talked about (most will be funny moments bc theres so many good ones):

when midnight memories leaked early from the Brazilian youths, and the guys had to pretend like it hadn't and that everyone in the audience hadn't already listened to it when they were live for 7 hours on 1D Day lmao

niall not giving a fuck about the pregnant interviewer potentially going into labor

the whole fandom conversation during and after the ITS A SNAKE HABITAT TURN AROUND!!! tweet lmao

the concert/media update accounts that worked harder than the US Marines

when zayn had tweeted he was taking a bath and then (i believe?) immediately after he started missing shows/was MIA during Four promo and people were like "did he drown in the bath" sdhkkf

the leopard print dress interview with niall, harry, and liam. i still go back and watch that interview periodically it is a gem "i dont like to judge people.." SWHDJKAKD

the video of a fan at a m&g wanting the guys to do the "nay nay" dance with them on video and harry looked genuinely confused and was like "whats the mayonnaise?"

SPEAKING of m&g experiences, when niall fell from his wheel-barrel pose mid-photo and what the camera captured because of it. i still absolutely kill OVER anytime i see that photo (can someone find it for me i desperately need it)

during interviews when louis would blurt out random women that niall was dating even though it wasnt true and niall had to figure out how to recant it

"are you a ball licker, louis?" "this is the 'im gonna rob your nan look'" "these two went to a gangsta party tonight-" "yeah full of watches and bitches" "niall the bad boy?? niall the church boy more like" "thats your job. thats your fooking job. you fooking loser" "no i do not know about roundabouts in MALAYSIA"

the absolute absurdity of those coca cola ads lmao

liam going on sidequests to sing karaoke at random applebees in the US??

harry adlibbing something about "eating yellow snow" in an interview and zayn's absolute deadpan face that im pretty sure contributed to him leaving the band fdjljsdl

all the memes involved in the zouis weed video i wish i could go back to that specific day on this website and see all the posts bc i remember some so vividly rip

someone drunkenly singing to niall outside of mcdonalds and hes just like ".....you alright.....?"

harry strutting down the middle of the road in new york when he was papped with nadine wearing her fur jacket and carrying her purse

that cursed ben winston interview help

Mrs. Horan and Liam's phobia of spoons pls

when harry didn't give a FUCK about liam's seatbelt holder during carpool karaoke/any Lirry interview 2013-2014 especially Four promo

the "conchobar" name drop on twitter and tumblr was insane i giggle about it from time to time

"its smells like man in here. a mixture of boy and man" "ugh ive got a packet of five and you can... have one..." "i knew a turtle once" "throw whatever you have at us to get your anger out- I MESSED UP I MESSED UP" "im really sorry i was having a wee... WHAT DID WE WIN THANK THE FANS" "i have a son named ishmael. he never calls me"

harry's poutine rant is still legendary

niall's fucked up toe.......

when louis picked up a burger that a fan threw on stage at a show and he took two bites out of it before slinging it back into the crowd

when niall was answering questions for that magazine and for "pet peeve" he wrote: "rabbits. they are pointless. do nothing."

VAS HAPPENIN!!!!! "I wouldnt pick any of you.... because none of you picked me" DJ Malik 🤟🤪🤘DJ Malik 🤟🤪🤘

when liam was convinced japan and australia were close and louis was mystified

"i remember the first time i met you, niall. we were in the bathroom. you were talking spanish to someone on the phone. who were you talking to???" "🎶where's my stuff🎶where the fuck's my laptop🎶" "who doesn't have an iphone its 2015!!" "Harry shes 5-" "dinosaurs mate, straight up"

the no control project ugh

liam and louis drop-kicking naughty boy posters on stage jfldfkls

when harry was black out drunk during/after the brits in 2012. the press interview after is gold

harry instructing liam on how to neigh like a horse correctly

the rainbow bears going homicidal over that potato after the jimmy kimmel interview

when zayn forgot how to pronounce malibu and he said "malibami" and his reaction to the tweets about his single hair strand at the AMAs

liam showing up out of the blue, off the street, to yank the brit award away from simon and accept the award for 1D right after the band went on hiatus then dipped

them being stoned out of their fucking mind in the back of that bread van

i know this is after 1d but during the 8 year anniversary and louis and simon just went. at it for a whole season being judges on the x-factor. "Did you know, 8 years ago today one direction was formed" with the "yea Simon I remember it quite well I was in the band."

the camping.... scene.....

the first leg of OTRA in australia when they stood so confidently onstage having rehearsed jackshit and mumbling through the words for every FOUR song

harry disassociating while standing drunk in front of that mcdonalds at like 2 AM

they were all!! so young!! they were just teenage boys/early twenty-something year old dudes and they were so.. so.. fucking funny :(

[jadeazora]

Was rereading the XY manga yesterday after the Presents, and still not quite over this decision tbh 😂

[andy-15-07]

Hi, I hope you have a great vacation! I had an idea of a premise where reader is an interviewer and she has to interview Pedro Pascal. However, it’s obvious that Pedro has a thing for her and it blows up on the internet. Then when they run into each other again they talk about it and laugh and Pedro admits that everyone was right about him having a thing for her. I just thought this was a cute idea and I’m glad that you’re able to take a break and relax :)!

Off the Record

PAIRING: Pedro Pascalx reader

WORD COUNT: 954| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Joel Miller Masterlist

You’d been nervous about this one , but you’d told yourself that was ridiculous. You’d done dozens of interviews before. A-listers, Oscar winners, infamous directors, chaotic press junkets with cast members bouncing off each other like kids on a sugar high.

But Pedro Pascal is different.

Maybe it’s the way he greets everyone on the crew by name, or the fact that he compliments your earrings before you’ve even settled into your seat, or the way he laughs when you ask your first question , that full-body laugh that makes his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle like he’s telling you a secret instead of a story.

Whatever it is, it makes you just a little reckless. A little softer than usual, leaning closer, your laugh mixing with his until the whole room feels smaller, more private somehow.

The interview goes viral within hours.

There’s a clip someone posts on TikTok , just the two of you, knees bumping under the tiny studio table, Pedro looking at you like you’ve just hung the damn moon.

Pedro Pascal looking at his interviewer like THAT?? the caption says. He’s in love, your honor. It’s so over for us. She’s giggling like they’re on a date. WHO IS SHE??

The comments spiral out from there. Your phone pings nonstop for days. Your boss sends you a link with a “well done” and a wink emoji. Your best friend calls you at midnight to scream-laugh into the phone , tell me you’re at least gonna fuck him, please.

You ignore it as best you can. Kind of. You watch the clip too many times, replay the moment he’d brushed his knee against yours and hadn’t moved it away. The way he’d looked at you when you thanked him for coming , warm and easy, like he’d wanted to say something else but didn’t.

Weeks pass. The internet moves on , mostly. But every now and then you still see edits pop up on your feed: your laugh, his soft eyes, the tiny smile he’d given you when you’d told him you hoped he got a break soon.

And then you see him again.

You’re covering a small premiere , nothing huge, a new indie film that Pedro’s rumored to be attached to as a producer. You’re half-focused on your notes when you hear him before you see him , that laugh, again, a little lower than the last time, and when you glance up he’s already looking at you.

“Hey,” he says, warm and a little smug, like you’re an inside joke he can’t wait to tell. “Look who it is.”

“Pedro,” you say, trying for professional but you know your grin gives you away. “Long time no see.”

“You’re everywhere I want to be, apparently.” He gestures to your mic, the backdrop behind you, the bright lights. “You gonna interview me again?”

“Not tonight.” You step closer before you can think better of it, lowering your voice just a little. “I think you broke the internet enough last time.”

He huffs a laugh. “That wasn’t me. That was you.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, teasing. “Pretty sure it was the way you were looking at me.”

Pedro’s mouth twitches , that soft, crooked grin that makes your stomach flip. “So you saw that, huh?”

“Oh, everyone saw that, Pedro.” You laugh when he rubs the back of his neck, sheepish but still grinning. “It’s a whole meme now, you know.”

“I know.” He lowers his hand, slipping one thumb into his pocket as he looks at you , softer now, the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Everyone was right, you know.”

“About what?” You shouldn’t ask , you shouldn’t , but you do anyway, because you’re only human and he’s looking at you like that again.

“About me having a thing for you.” His voice is so casual, so impossibly gentle it makes your breath catch. “They weren’t wrong.”

You blink. Open your mouth. Close it again. “Is this, are you,”

“I’m asking if you’d let me buy you dinner, off the record.” His grin softens into something real, something that makes your skin flush warm under the studio lights. “Somewhere with bad lighting and good food, where I can look at you like that all night and nobody gets to film it.”

You shouldn’t say yes. You should think about your job, about the rules. About the fact that you’ve never really crossed this line before.

But he’s standing there with that sweet, crooked smile, hands tucked into his pockets like he’s trying not to touch you in front of all these people , and you know, deep down, you were gone for him the second he brushed your knee under that table.

So you smile back. Shrug, casual, though your heart is pounding like you’re still live on camera.

“Off the record?” you echo, grinning when his eyes light up.

“Off the record,” he promises, stepping just close enough that his arm brushes yours.

“Then I’d love to.”

Later, when the photos come out , the two of you leaving the tiny late-night taco place at midnight, Pedro’s hand at your lower back, your laugh half-hidden behind your hand , you don’t care what the internet says.

You care about his hand warm on your hip in the back of the car, his soft thank you murmured into your hair when you kiss him first, and the way he smiles when he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye.

“Next time,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours, “we’ll give them something really worth talking about.”

And when you laugh, you know this time it won’t just be for the cameras.

[ask-kriselle]

not blog related but my friend made a joke that dess ate the forever weed brownie like that one meme and my friends liked my stupid parody of it so here

[boiling-potato]

Your art is so yummy and you're super col!! I'm following you home

The worst part is Anon called me col 😔😔 (anyway, this really made me take a double take to make sure I wasn't mistaken, and then it made me cackle lol so thank you, Anon! XDD)

[strawyeriz]

3 times adrian saved you + 1 time you saved adrian

pairings: adrian chase x fem!reader, brief 11th street kids x fem!reader (platonic) warnings: slight reader descrip (described as shorter than adrian, economos, peacemaker), reader described as having tits + vagina, blood, injuries (reader gets stabbed but offscreen) unprotected p in v, spitplay. wc: 2.9k notes: minors & ageless blogs dni. i lowkey didn't know how to end it and it's 3:30 am so ... :) but enjoy my first fic/real smut lol

1.

peacemaker has an ugly habit, – well, several, if we’re being completely honest – he loves to put things on the highest shelf possible. and currently, peacemaker’s ugly habit is making your life harder than it needs to be.

the box of files atop the filing cabinet is mockingly staring back at you from where you sit at your own desk while your leg idly bounces. you try to list the number of ways to go about this with only adebayo accompanying you at headquarters. you had purposely planned your work this way, saving that box for last in hopes that you could just return the next day and ask economos for help. but it’s only 5 pm and the only other plans you had that night were curling up in bed and doomscrolling.

“you know –” adebayo’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “if you really tried, i think you could jump up and knock it over.” 

“yeah, but then i’d have to pick up all the papers.” you offer back, spinning in your office chair to face her.

“well you glaring at it isn’t gonna magically make the box come down.” adebayo retorts, raising her eyebrows at you in a knowing way before looking back down at her computer screen.

you groan in defeat, making a show of getting up out of your chair before you reach the filing cabinet. you furrow your brow and stare up at it. it’s not that far, right? i mean, if you just put your foot on the bottom drawer and then just reaaach up to –

“and don’t even think about climbing that shit.” you hear adebayo’s voice from behind you. you turn around and she hasn’t even looked up from her screen. “‘cause my wife and i have a movie night planned and i would much rather do that than try to un-pancake you.”

cue another groan.

okay, maybe you can just try to jump and reach for it first? you’re oddly really adamant about not having to knock the box over and reorganize it.

you jump once and your fingers graze the cardboard box it’s in, a weird mixture of frustration and hope building in your chest. you jump again, curling your fingers in to try to get it to move in your direction. your method works and you jump a third time, fourth, then fifth to no avail before you hear a voice to your left.

“you look like that cat meme whenever you jump.” adrian tells you, mask off and hair a little unruly.

you turn to look at him with a confused look. “what?”

“y’know … like the one that’s waving its arms around all weird and hopping in place.” he waves his hands near his chest with a smile on his face, as if mimicking the cat. you can basically see him imagining the clip in his head just by his smile.

“um, well, okay.” you nod. the two of you just stand there staring at each other before he takes it as his turn to talk again.

“sooo, is it a new workout or–”

“the box, vigilante.”

“oh.” he turns to look at the cardboard box, as if he’s barely noticing its existence for the first time. he picks it up with ease before presenting it to you. “i know you guys think peacemaker just puts it up there so harcourt can ask him, but it’s probably really is just easier for him.” adrian attempts, trailing after you as you take the box and head back towards your desk.

you settle back in your chair, taking out the stack and assuming adrian was here to pick up something he’d left behind. to your surprise, he pulled up a chair next to your desk.

there’s a beat.

“you seriously haven’t seen that video?”

the look you give him is enough to answer his question.

you can tell he’s still looking at you when you turn your attention back to the files. you circle a few things and rifle through your drawer for a highlighter.

“here, i’ll find it for you.”

it was gonna be a long night.

2.

today sucks. first, you found out your car had gotten scratched in the sketchy parking lot you left it overnight without someone even leaving a note. then, you got yelled at by peacemaker on the mission for missing a shot. the cherry on top of your shitty day was when you found out economos finished your favorite bag of chips at headquarters.

“i’ll just buy you another bag!” economos yells back at you, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration after being chewed out by you for the past twenty minutes.

“that’s not the point, economos!” you yell back for what seems like the fiftieth time.

harcourt has her head in her hands while peacemaker and adebayo watch the two of you bicker. you faintly remember adrian stepping out for a moment.

“then what is your point?” he asks, tilting his head in an unamused manner.

“that you ate my fucking bag of chips! without asking!”

“i’m going home.” he huffs with a roll of his eyes, making his way past you. “you’ll get your bag of chips tomorrow.” 

harcourt gives you a semblance of a wave with peacemaker trailing behind her, likely off to ask her out on another date she’ll refuse. adebayo gives you a sympathetic look. “sorry about your car again.” she attempts, shrugging her jacket on. “and the chips.”

then it’s just you left in headquarters. the moment you watch adebayo’s car slip out from the parking lot, you feel the dam keeping all your tears at bay break. hot tears slip out past your eyes and you lay your head down on your desk, giving yourself a moment to just cry it out.

you don’t register hearing the door open. you do, however, feel someone poking at you through your jacket.

“go away.” you grumble from your desk, half-expecting to see economos back with another bag of chips.

“dude, my hands are starting to freeze, c’mon.” you hear adrian.

you sniffle and look up, your eyes having to adjust to the light momentarily before really taking a look at adrian. he’s standing there with his brow scrunched uncomfortably as he stares at his hands, a milkshake in each one. you wipe at your cheeks with the sleeves of your jacket before grabbing one.

he hooks his foot around the chair cylinder of the closest office chair and sits next to you. “last week you were talking about that burger place with a strawberry milkshake you said was better than the one at fennel fields,” he begins, unwrapping his straw by banging one end against the desk so it can break the paper on the other end. he bites the straw to pull it out, then stabs it into the drink. “and i was like, that’s impossible. ‘cause i make the best milkshakes, even though maurice won’t really let me behind the counter to cook anymore – says i get too carried away with the icecream –, but you were right about that taco place on 8th and civic, so…”

a smile spreads across your face as you listen to him, slowly starting to unwrap your straw. he finally meets your gaze in between all his talking, glasses slightly askew on his face. he scans your face, brow furrowing.

“were you crying?” he asks, words blunt and void of anything but genuine confusion.

you chew the inside of your cheek momentarily before answering. “... yeah.”

he blinks at you. “is it ‘cause of the milkshake?” he raises his eyebrows and leans forward a little. “oh shit, are you lactose intolerant or something? do you need lactaid? ‘cause i don’t carry lactaid on me anymore. not since peacemaker told me those things were just some bullshit made up by doctors and corporations.”

you let out a small laugh before shaking your head, already feeling the weight of your shitty day lifting off your shoulders. “no, no. well, yes, but it’s okay.” you quickly clear up, leaning forward a little. “it’s just –” you take a deep breath in. “– just been a long day.”

he relaxes a little at your words. and instead of leaning back in his chair, he scoots his chair closer so that he’s leaned back but still just as close to you. “well, if it turns out the milkshake sucks, we can always order to go at fennel fields. i get discounts.” adrian offers, eyes scanning your face after he speaks as if to gauge your response. 

when you snort in response and stab your own straw into your drink, he takes that as a win. “good thing this milkshake is basically the best thing to exist on earth.”

“yeah right! maybe if puppies and peace on earth and mother nature and super mario odyssey and –”

“just try it, vig.”

you watch him shut up and finally try the drink.

“holy shit, this is fucking amazing.”

3.

no one tells you how badly it hurts to get stabbed. you’ve seen vigilante and peacemaker get stabbed tens of hundreds of times over and over again, stitched them back up in the backrooms of headquarters, and watched them hobble off as if it was a normal tuesday. you were familiar with the healing process and that it probably hurt like hell.

“ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” you groan out, hobbling on your good leg with adrian supporting you from the side you had gotten stabbed on into the backrooms of headquarters. you were in the same room you usually stitched up everyone else except this time, you were the patient. he gently helps you sit down before opening up the closet to rifle through it for a first aid kit.

“should be top shelf, adrian.” you tell him through gritted teeth, pressing down on your right thigh where you had gotten stabbed. his head snaps up and he grabs it, making it back to you in record time.

“i’m gonna – i’ll talk you through it, okay?” you ask through labored breaths, your hands starting to get sticky and warm with your own blood as you continue to apply pressure.

“woah, sexy.” he says absentmindedly before flipping open the first aid kit. “y’know, if i didn’t know any better, i’d think it’s your first time being stabbed.”

“well, it is.” you swallow thickly to which he makes a small ‘hmm’ noise at. “unbutton my pants.”

“what?” adrian asks loudly, brow furrowing and eyes popping out of his head at your words. “i mean, you’re hot and i really like you, but shouldn’t i – shouldn’t we stitch your leg first?”

“first of all, we’re wrapping my leg in a bandage, not stitching it.” you begin, meeting his gaze with an incredulous look. your eyes soften slightly at the sheer panic and confusion. “and second of all, it’s easier to clean my thigh if my jeans are off.”

“okay, well, maybe lead with that next time.” he tells you, but moves to unbutton your jeans anyway. “not like … i was expecting anything between us or whatever ‘cause we’re basically coworkers and peacemaker said there’s only enough room for one office romance.” 

you lift your hips up to let him shimmy your pants down, still awkwardly trying to apply pressure to your thigh and ignoring what he had just said. he swallows when you finally kick your jeans off, eyes glued to your thighs and panties.

“adrian.”

“yeah, huh – yeah?” he raises his head towards you as if he’s listening, but his eyes are still glued to your thigh covered in blood with his pupils blown and lips slightly parted. the way he’s looking at you makes your stomach tighten with want. 

“go get a rag and run it under hot water so you can clean it.” he nods but only gets up to go do what you said after you kick at his boot with your good leg.

it takes almost thirty minutes just to get your wound dressed, but adrian manages. the dressing is a bit tight, but for his first time, he did pretty well.

“do you really have to put your pants back on?” he asks, watching as you reach for your bloody jeans with a gaping hole through it.

you pause, looking over at him and squint for a moment before sitting back down next to him. “i thought you said there’s only enough room for one office romance.”

“i – pfft, i didn’t say that, peacemaker did.” adrian reminds you, raising a finger. “and i mean, it’s not … a romance if it’s … just sex … right?” he asks, lowering his hand and shrugging.

you blink at him, kissing your teeth. “i dunno, what do you think?” you ask, basically crawling into his lap.

“i guess it just won’t have to be romantic.” he watches you with a bated breath, big round eyes ogling at you.

“yeah,” you settle into his lap, being careful of your injured thigh and curling a tendril of his hair around your finger. “i guess it won’t.” you shrug before leaning in to kiss him.

1.

“fuck – i – ‘m close.” you pant from underneath him. his bed is squeaky underneath the two of you. his hands are splayed across your thighs, pushing them flush against your chest so they’re folded in against you.

“y’re so wet, fuuuuuck.” he groans, leaning down to plant a kiss against your lips. he removes one of his hands to squish your cheeks together, effectively parting your lips, and then spits in your mouth. then, just as quickly, he dives back in to kiss you again. his tongue laves against your own, combined spit dribbling down your chin as he licks the inside of your mouth.

if there's one thing you've learned about adrian after having sex for a few months, it's that he loves it when it's messy.

he speeds up his movement, thrusts becoming more erratic and shallow. he leans back and throws your legs over his shoulder instead, leaning in close to watch you with his forearms bracketing your head.

"shit, and pretty, too." adrian has a dorky smile on his face when he meets your gaze. "like – like, niagara falls."

"wh – what, ade?" you manage out, his thrusts basically knocking the air out of you at this point.

he slows momentarily, grinding against that spot that makes you see stars. he can tell by the way your hole grips him tighter. "y'know, wet and pretty. like niagara falls. or – fuck, you're so tight – like, uhhh, lake superior?"

"erie is better."

"whatever. you're better."

you don't like the way it makes you smile and feel mushy inside. he's supposed to be rearranging your guts totally platonically! you don't have much time to think about it before he's jackhammering into your pussy.

"fuck, i'm gonna – gonna cum," you mewl out, throwing your head back against his pillows.

"shiiiit, yeahyeahyeah, i'll get you there. y'just – look at me." you quickly look back up at him and it makes his dorky smile shift into something more possessive. but he does as he promises. his hand reaches down to rub at your clit, his eyes never leaving yours. his glasses slide down his nose and he tries to push it back up by maneuvering his head to push his glasses against his bicep. you reach up to push them back up when his method proves fruitless.

"fuckfuckfuckfuck, adrian –" you squeal. with your back arching, you wrap a hand around his left bicep and dig your nails into it.

he hisses at the pain but doesn’t reprimand you, instead giving three shallow thrusts and leaning down to bite your shoulder before finishing. usually, you’d yell at him for not letting him let you hear him cum but you two had been toeing the line with his angry neighbors. 

his balls are heavy against your sopping cunt, effectively soaked from a mixture of your wetness, both of your cum, and his spit. he hums against your skin, releasing your soft flesh from his teeth. he rests his head against your collarbone, letting out a soft and sleepy hum.

“i think i love you.” he says.

you still underneath him. he leans back, meeting your gaze. “i mean it.” and you know he does, adrian’s not the kind of guy to back down.

“i thought you said –”

“fuck what i said, fuck what peacemaker said.” adrian interrupts. “i like your face and your tits, but i also like when i get to cuddle you after we watch fargo even though you said the current season is trash and i like holding your hand after missions when we think no one is watching. i like you – love you.”

your mouth hangs open, eyes flitting between both of his. “and if you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. i guess. not really, but –” he closes his eyes and shakes his head. he opens them again and meets your gaze. “it’d be … cool if you did.”

you blink up at him, pursing your lips momentarily. “i think i love you too, adrian.”

“aw, fuck yeah!” he leans down and wraps his arms around you. 

“i – ah – sensitive!” you tell him, shimmying away from where he’s accidentally still unintentionally grinding into you.

“right, sorry.” he plants a wet kiss against your cheek. he leans back a little to look at you. “so are we like boyfriend-girlfriend now?”

you let out a small laugh. “yes, adrian, we’re like boyfriend-girlfriend now.” you nod.

“sweet.” he smiles at you, leaning in for a kiss.

[tommysparkles]

kiss meme!!! maybe for luck (19) or out of pride (42)? whatever moves you!!

ooooh, okay, I managed to combine them, though I might be twisting the 'pride' one a little bit. Also, this once again contributes to my plan of having them married in whatever fic I write as often as I can lol. I hope you like it.

Buck feels like this is on the list of top five things he's been waiting his whole life for. His wedding to the love of his life being number 1, of course.

Said love of his life is looking at him tenderly as he paces. He doesn't have to leave for his meeting for another hour, but the anxiety of the wait had him up early after a fitful night.

"You nailed the test, right?" Tommy says, stepping in front of him, putting his hands on his shoulders to stop his pacing.

Buck sighs. "Yes."

"There's an open spot that you're more than qualified for, right?" Tommy prompts.

The corners of Buck's lips turn up against his consent. "Yes."

"We know it's not a sure thing," Tommy says. "But, Evan, you did so well. I don't think the chief would call you for a special meeting just to let you down about the position."

"You never know," Buck points out.

It's Tommy's turn to sigh, but there's fondness in it. He presses a soft kiss to Buck's mouth.

"I have to go," he says softly once they break away. "Drop by and let me know, okay?"

"Okay," Buck answers. "Another kiss for luck?"

Tommy huffs a laugh and obliges him, just like he always does. And Buck will take all the luck he can get.

___

"Sorry to keep you waiting, firefighter Buckley," Chief Alonso says a couple of hours later. "It's been a busy day."

"No problem," Buck says as casually as he can. "And, um, actually, it's Kinard, sir. I married Tommy Kinard, from the 217, a couple of weeks ago."

Alonso smiles genially. "Ah, I hadn't heard. Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir."

Chief Alonso folds his hands on his desk and eyes Buck. "So how are you feeling about things?"

Buck takes a deep breath. "Good, sir. Provided the news is what I've been hoping for."

The Chief smiles and, well, Buck knows.

____

He bounds into Harbor an hour later.

"Hey Kinard," Lucy says, coming toward him, wiping her hands with a rag. "Looking for the hubby?"

"Yeah, he around?"

Lucy doesn't answer; instead, she turns and yells, "Yo, Kinard, your better half is here!"

Buck laughs. "Geez, Luce, I could have done that."

Lucy shrugs and soon enough Tommy is coming toward him, snagging his hand and pulling up back outside and around the building, away from nosy, prying eyes.

"Well?" Tommy asks expectantly.

Buck grins. "You're looking at Captain Buckley-Kinard of station 89.

Tommy whoops and grabs Buck around the waist, managing to lift him and swing him around in a tight circle as Buck hangs on and laughs and laughs, so happy, he's thankful for Tommy's grip because he might just float off the ground.

"Hell yeah, I am!" Tommy says excitedly, setting him back down so he can cup Buck's face for a kiss. "I'm so proud of you, I never had any doubts."

"I know you didn't," Buck says affectionately. "I gotta get to work, tell everyone, but I wanted you to be the first to know."

Tommy kisses him again. "Damn straight. God, Evan, I'm so proud of you. Just wait until we're home, we're going to practice the new title."

Buck laughs. "Damn right we will."

[electricgg]

AHHHH I FORGOT TO SEND IN MEMES I WAS SO TIRED WHEN I READ IT AHHH HOW DID I FORGET ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS EVER

1) batfam when they sit thru that whole think and their sister didn’t even perform.

2) Wally trying to tell his uncle about a new speedster but him and Hal just are NOT lockin in the way they need to.

3) ivy when she sees Harley actually did bring three kids to the asylum with her

4) Warren resigning to his fate when he sees five knocked out guards but the other two are still insisting they keep going (I think it was Warren that wanted to turn around but I’m too far into making the ask to check)

5)Warren and Bobby listening to Ed’s riddles and maybe not clocking that it’s the riddler???

6) Harvey’s cell :(

7) Jason when she actually DOES have anger issues

8) I just KNOW Bruce was hounding babs for more information after the end of the chapter

9) me when warrwayne is real and more alive than half of the ship is

10) Harvey, two face, and Wayne as my girl maximoff proceeds to make the BEST first impression man has ever seen she’s doing amazing she’s doing fantastic

This chapter had soooo so so many fantastic moments im screaming. You’ve out done yourself again!!

I PANICKED THINKING MY TUMBLR WAS BUGGING AGAIN!! Thanks for the meal, pookie🥹✨

1)The one time they make an effort and they had to sit through a bunch of highschoolers that act like this the High School Musical talent show.

2) Maybe Wally was interrupting some intimate moment and they got caught of guard 👀 (Had to add one HalBarry crumb for myself-). But looks like they will need to lock in real quick after this jsjsjs

3)She loves her wife, she really does. But Ivy was so ready to throw her into the Gotham river for bringing little mutant kids to most dangerous place in Gotham for shits and giggles.

4) It was actually Bobby(bc he is doesn't fuck around with spooky stuff-), but it applies to the two of them. They were not having a good time.

5)They did not clock it in. Fear does work in mysterious ways and they just hangend onto whatever distraction they could find. Ed's gets brownie points for helping them out-ish.

6)GIVE MY MAN A PROPER CELL I SWEAR TO GOD-

7)There's nothing more delulu than an older brother looking to relate to their estranged sister.

8)Bruce had to be put in time out by ALFRED because he was going to show up in full suit at Barbara's apartment just to pick Maximoff off and drag her back to the manor for a stern talk about communication skills (mf look in the mirror-)

9) WARRWAYNE I AM SOBBING!!! They will get a happy moment, I swear😭

10) My girl Maximoff is getting adopted left and right. She is just that charismatic and full of unhinged good vibes (It's the ADHD-)

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! THANKS FOR DROPPING THIS!!!!

[kiir-do-faal-rahhe]

Have you had any design changes over the time you've been creating Odette? Like is her initial design relatively the same, or has she had a total 180?

ohhhhohohoho this is such a good question!!!

she first started as a Nord, i think, and then Breton, and then half Nord half Breton, before i finally decided on her being a snow elf! back when she was half Nord and half Breton, she had a family :) i don’t really remember any of their names HDBDHDBA her mom was Fjolja and her dad with Rorldir, her sister’s name was… Dagny? i think? and then she had two more brothers and another sister. Now she’s an only child, born in Cyrodiil and raised in the Chantry of Auri-El, her father is the late Martin Septim and she was raised by her mother Ysrae and her two uncles Gelebor and Vyrthur :3

and as for her drawn designs, she’s been going through some things HFBDHFBD that drawing on the left is the very first drawing i ever did of her, i think in…2021? man my style has changed a lot and now the far right drawing is from me workshopping giving her big ol’ paw feet :) still working on it HFBDJF

I think for the most part, I’d say she’s stayed pretty consistent? I don’t know if she’s had a total 180, but she has definitely Evolved. and gotten so much taller holy shit— there was a point where she was 5’3”

thank you so much for the ask, anon!!!

[seijorhi]

imagining the aftermath of your latest yuuta fic has me twirling my hair and kicking my feet

do you see the reader getting angry and snapping at yuuta for his method of “helping”? or do you think she would be too afraid to lash out at him and try to bottle everything up?

i think more than anything else it's an overwhelming sense of horror at what he's done. not only has he completely torched her life (no pun intended) but innocent people died – kids died – and while she didn't light the match, it's undeniably because of her that they're dead. guilt will eat her alive, piece by piece, every day for the rest of her life. she should get used to it now, and quickly, because those won't be the last bodies laid at her feet.

it's a horror that not only has he accepted their deaths as collateral without losing a wink of sleep (quite literally), but the limits she thought he'd go to, the risk she thought she was taking have slipped so far out of her grasp that she's terrified of what'll come next.

there's no use in screaming, kicking, clawing, scratching, no use in running when it's made abundantly clear that when it comes to her, yuuta will cross any line, hurt however many he needs to hurt, to keep her where she needs to be.