#am I imagining this or...??

[veshialles]

I don't want any spoilers bc I'm waiting to watch with my bestie when she returns home from her trip, but I'm kinda dying to know why there's apparently a scene where Ruby and the Doctor are sitting in what appears to be scrap TARDIS parts from previous "desktop themes"??

the chair from 11th's coral tardis(?), a hexagon from 13th's TARDIS walls, and another that seems to be from lower levels of 11th/12th's console room??

[prlssprfctn]

Do you think when Damian first arrived at Gotham and to the Wayne Manor, he got an ick because Americans wear shoes indoors? Imagine him automatically starting to take off his shoes, searching for slippers, and realising that everyone just... walk around in their boots... without a care in the world?

Dick, jumping on the coach with his converses, straight from the street: So, watcha doing?

Damian, with his eye twitching: ...Why would you do that.

Damian, entering Tim's room to announce that the dinner is ready: Drake, Alfred had-

Tim, laying on his bed in his shoes peacefully:

Damian, through his gritted teeth: Unbecoming.

Tim: I JUST BREATHED

[forsworned]

Being the only female on TF141 is like Simon constantly scolding you for getting into sheningans with Johnny and Kyle while Price sits on his arm chair with a good book, whiskey in hand and him puffing out smoke like a chimney from his cigar like the daddy he is.

"Delete it."

"Why?"

"Cos I fockin' said so."

You cock an amused brow at him as you look up from the embarrassingly cute photo of the skull-masked behemoth fast sleep and cuddling your Hello Kitty plushie. "Cos y'fockin' said so?" You mock his gravelly Manchester accent and it sends Johnny and Kyle into a fit of giggles. And even Price is chuffed by it. It's contagious really.

It lets your guard down enough for him to yank your phone out of your hand deleting the picture with a swiftness that made your eyes ream and your heart jump. You all groan and jeer at him for being a poor sport but he's quite satisfied with himself. Little does he know, you have a few copies of it in your desktop.

[specialagentartemis]

My feelings about queernormative worlds in SFF is that I can often enjoy it, but I rarely believe it.

Almost everything surrounding gender, sex, and sexuality, and all the different social norms and expectations that different cultures build up around them, derive ultimately from the various realities of sexual activity and pregnancy: who can have it, who can’t, for how long, who does have it, who doesn’t, and what that means for society. I’m not being bioessentialist here, because human bodies are all quite different and different cultures develop different ways to react to that, and rates of and reactions to fertility can be different, and what different sexual and gender roles mean in different cultures and who can and can’t embody them can get extremely different. (Hell, how pregnancy itself even works can be different depending on where you live, what your lifestyle is like, and what your diet consists of!) But like, the reason gender even matters, historically, has been because of reproduction. And the reason reproduction matters, in agricultural societies anyway, has very often been because of property ownership and the need to work on farms.

So I’m totally here for queernormative worlds. But to interest me you have to answer the questions of: okay, but how does your culture work though, and how is kinship structured, and how is reproduction seen, and how is property inheritance understood, and how does gender fit into all this, for me to feel like you’ve actually tried. (And don’t say that there ARE no norms, so no one falls outside of them. There’s no culture where that’s true.)

Sci-fi worlds can get away with this easier than fantasy worlds, imo. Partially because they can posit that it is our future but we’ve gone through all of the Social Justice Struggles already and solved them, but also because technology can really alter all of these topics. The Vorkosigan Saga, for instance, makes it clear that Beta Colony is as gender-egalitarian and free-love as it is because of contraception and uterine replicators, which FULLY decouple “the ability to have children” from “the need for anyone to be pregnant.” This is huge, and the Vorkosigan Saga treats it as appropriately so! Ancillary Justice is another one that thinks a lot about how the genderless culture that decenters romance as a core social organizing principle works. But I read so many low-ish-tech fantasy worlds that are happily queernormative and gender doesn’t matter and they just feel shallow. I don’t believe this world. I don’t dislike it, exactly, I just don’t believe it, I don’t believe people would be like this because you’ve put no effort into imagining a world that works like this makes any sense.

Which is totally fine for people’s D&D games and cute oneshot comics and personal works and such, but when you want me to take your worldbuilding seriously, you’re going to have to convince me! And a lot of it is not convincing.

[zorangezest]

(part 1) i wanted to draw humanformers and i had this horrible awful miserable idea

in which soundwave is haunted by the ghost of his son

♫♪♪

continuation

[regrettorisotto]

i fucking LOVE LIFE !!!! YOU WANNA KNOW WHY???? IM ALIVE AT THE SAME TIME AS AO3 EXISTS!! THERES NEVER BEEN A BETTER AGE EVER !!!!! AND IM LIVING NOW AAAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

[spectra-bear]

[monstersflashlight]

Monster boyfriend who would whine until you flash him your boobs. He's sad? Nah, he just wants to see your boobs. He's enjoying a snack but feels bored? He def wants to see your boobs... He's just a bit obsessed with you and how good your boobs look when he grabs them with his too big hands. How pretty your nipples look when he runs his claws over them until they are hard peaks and he can flick them until *you* are the one whining.

[skyrigel]

Possessive!Simon is one thing, but you ? You’re crazy about him. When it comes to him, you go all feral like a hissy cat pawing at their steak, he's your meat ! And Simon—so oblivious, so utterly devoted, he doesn’t even notice the hungry eyes trailing over him. All black gear, a half-masked, mysterious, broad shoulders and puffed out chest —of course birds and bats, all are salivating over him.

It boils your blood, ofcourse your man is hot, but eyes on him. Fuck no. You claim.

You tangle yourself around him, arms locking behind his neck, rising on your toes, dragging desperate, searing kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the edge of his mask. Grinding into him and ecstacy reveling because Simon gets all flushed under you.

None of these eyes can do that. Only you.

And then, without shame or hesitation, you yank the mask down, baring his lips just for you, claiming his starved mouth. The way he moans, all taken back your lips hot with slick and need for possession. Your fingers curl tight, nails scraping sharply on his nape as your body presses flush to his. Call it pathetic, call it insane, call it what you want but you will have him. A silent dare, a wordless mine.

Simon exhales rough and low, hands gripping your waist, grounding you—but not stopping you. Then, very effortlessly he lifts you, dragging you so close, his voice thick with heat as he mutters, "Always yours.”

Like he’s reminding you. Like he’s making damn sure you never forget who he belongs you.

Masterlist

[fazmid]

[sunsburns]

imagine trying to keep up with clark 🤯 (18+)

clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.

and he always does.

he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.

he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.

it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.

you know what he’s doing in there.

and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.

once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.

but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.

“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

no, you need to be the one.

you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.

you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.

you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.

“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.

his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.

you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.

you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.

his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.

he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.

in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.

the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.

he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.

but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.

you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.

“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”

you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.

he looks utterly wrecked.

his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.

he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.

then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.

his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.

his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”

“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”

you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.

“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.

“fuck, please—”

“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”

“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.

he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”

clark kent is completely undone.

[prlssprfctn]

Alfred, who tries to punish little Jason for something he messed up with by using the same methods he used on Dick — aka. ground him, make him wash dishes and clean the house, or just watching some old reality shows with him — expect... it never works. Jason is actually fucking excited about all of these things.

Alfred: To my attention was brought a fact that you smoked with Commissioner Gordon again. Jason, stuttering: I mean- I- Alfred: Thus, you are punished. I expect all dishes to be cleaned by the time I return home. Jason, confused: Really? Alfred: Yes. Jason, beaming, because cleaning makes him feel better and helps to distract himself: Cool! Thanks, Alfie. Alfred: Excuse me?

Cut to Alfred, who stares in shock as he finds Jason actually enthusiastically washing dishes, while singing along with Whitney Houston.

Alfred: For this punishment, you will... be grounded. Jason: Oh, thank god, guys from school invited me to the cinema, but I didn't want to go, anyway. Alfred: ...And clean up the whole cave. Jason: I actually did this morning! But I can do another round of quick cleaning session if you want, Alfie. Alfred: ...And then you will watch another soap opera with me, lad. Jason, squealing: Cool!

Bruce, staring amusedly on Alfred and Jason, who sew Batman's and Robin's suits, while discussing the new episode of their favourite show: Al, I don't think that's a punishment for a kid... Alfred, frowning: Of course not. I am just spending time with my grandson. Bruce: Mhm-m. What about the punishment for your favourite broken vase? Alfred, who promised to punish anyone who did it this morning, because he thought it was Bruce, and not Jason, who accidentally knocked it off with the tip of his cape: ... Alfred: What vase? Jason: *beaming*

Alfred, solemnly: My boy. I am afraid, this time you truly need to serve your punishment in the order to understand your mistake. Alfred: No Jane Austen adaptations marathon for this Sunday. Jason, in horror: Alfred, no. Please. Alfred: Even more, you are obligated to go out on Sunday, and stay away from doing any additional homework. Jason: NO-O. Dick, who came for holidays, witnessing this for the first time: ... Dick: I think this kid is broken or something.

[deikshen]

Shen Yuan, who opens his eyes and has just transmigrated into some strange demon deep in the Endless Abyss. Well, GREAT! He's a demon, and while he's not OP, if he behaves and doesn't mess with Binghe's women, maybe they could even be traveling companions. Cool! Incredible!!

It doesn't take long for him to find Luo Binghe in the Abyss some time later. He leaves a trail of carnage... And he's speedrunning!! Ignore the wife and solo plots, just mow down monsters and charge forward! He's awesome!

Shen Yuan tries to avoid the red flags that the stallion protagonist isn't, well, forming a harem. Maybe he would form later, when he had more power!! He's not exactly sure in which narrative arc are.

However, his days of watching Luo Binghe through the shadows are soon over. Luo Binghe catches him!! He has obviously noticed Shen Yuan following him. What does he want? Is he looking for him to kill him?

Shen Yuan ducks out a bit, but ultimately decides to impart his honed Abyss 101 knowledge from months of Wiki editing. He disguises himself as a demon who has been searching for a way out of the Abyss, and he knows that he can only do so with Xin Mo, but he knows he doesn't have enough power to wield it. So, he will tell Luo Binghe where the portal-opening sword is, if he allows him to travel by his side and accompany him when he leaves!!

... It's very easy to become travel companions after that.

Luo Binghe is suspicious (of course he would be!! After all, who wouldn't be?!) but he's nice when he's not on his monster-killing rampage. Shen Yuan kills minor monsters, but in reality, he might be getting into more trouble than he should... spiritual flora, ancient artifacts! Luo Binghe should collect them and become more stronger with them! Shen Yuan rambles a lot: he talks about flora, beasts, monsters, demonic history, he throws out fact after fact of PIDW backstories that never got fleshed out from the old demonic civilizations, banished kingdoms, people literally turned into black jade statues...

Luo Binghe seems to find it irritating that he's talking at first, but actually... It's like he can't stop looking at him afterward. Shen Yuan guesses that he must be considering getting rid of him, sometimes: Luo Binghe looks at him with an expression of dismay and doubt. It's like he's searching for something in him. Like he sees something familiar, but Shen Yuan finds it ridiculous. Bah!! As if there's something familiar about him to some random NPC in the world!

One day, after several weeks of traveling, Luo Binghe asks him: "Little Demon. Do you have a name?" And it's not like Shen Yuan has introduced himself, but he considers saying "Shen Yuan" to him not to be wrong.

After that, Luo Binghe... gets worse? He also becomes a little more talkative, which is good, they can have conversations. Shen Yuan enjoys learning little things about his favorite character: how he likes tea, what he misses most is not water or clean clothes but being able to cook with spices, his favorite food, his mother's favorite recipe, about his life on Qing Jing Peak...

That's when everything goes to hell.

A kind Shen Qingqiu? What the fuck? Luo Binghe speaks about his Shizun with more passion than he has spoken about Ning Yingying or any other person or thing. That he had had this horrible qi deviation, but right after, he had been so kind, giving him medicine, a new cultivation manual, fair training, even letting him live in the bamboo house! For the past few years, Shen Qingqiu had practically spoiled him: the best missions, all the running of the Peak, he was basically the head disciple in all but name.

That Luo Binghe had fallen in love with him. Deeply, devastatingly. And Shen Qingqiu had pushed him into the Abyss when his heritage was revealed. However, Luo Binghe will not doubt! He will leave the Abyss, return to his Shizun, and show him that his heritage does not determine who he is. He will become a righteous cultivator and will have his respect to reach his heart.

OOC! So OOC! What the fuck!? Where was the scum villain!? Why is Luo Binghe gay now!? What weird fanfic did he end up in!? Actually, Shen Yuan supposes, well. That means at least he wouldn't destroy Cang Qiong and all that. Wow. Dramatic but calm ending. A better world!! And worse for him, being a demon. Maybe Could he find a way to disguise himself as a human? He believes he has already won Luo Binghe's friendship and sympathy. Maybe he'll even help him to disguise.

Revelations are a rare thing, but Shen Yuan guesses, it's okay. They continue their travel, collecting flowers along the way (for real, not meimeis) who improve the cultivation, and occasionally fight for their lives. Shen Yuan has defended himself very well with his claws so far, but Luo Binghe teaches him how to use a sword, and it's nice to have one.

Shen Yuan has drawn a map, more or less: it is the path that must be taken to reach Xin Mo. He knows that some of those places will be more difficult than others; he explains to Binghe many times that collecting things to strengthen him is necessary: it's a waste of time for him to meet with his Shizun now, but he'll be grateful! He'll need to get strong fast!

Shen Yuan shamelessly takes advantage of all his knowledge of the plot: he teaches Luo Binghe everything he knows, all the weaknesses of the beasts, all the strengths of certain flowers or roots. However, the more Shen Yuan teaches him over the weeks of their travel together, the more Luo Binghe seems... weirder. If he looked at him too much before, now it's incredibly worse. Sometimes he even asks extremely specific questions and seems frustrated when Shen Yuan doesn't answer exactly as he expects. Once, even, when they are crossing some paths surrounded by magma and the heat is suffocating, Binghe improvises a folded fan of leaves for him, and he seems clearly aggrieved when Shen Yuan's first instinct is to fan Binghe!

Luo Binghe is a frustrating little creature who seems to be testing him. Constantly. Shen Yuan assumes it's normal, but still!! He thought he had the protagonist's confidence!! Something seems to sparkle in his eyes when Shen Yuan stops halfway to explore a forest of giant mushrooms and talks at length about the properties and, above all, about the mole-squirrels who get high off their asses biting mushrooms, and he even seems fucking frustrated when he offers some weird herbal blend similar to a bitter tea and Shen Yuan accepts it just out of politeness because it tastes awful. It's like they're running in circles!!

Still, they continue on their way.

There is still a large stretch of the map to go, which Shen Yuan translates into a few more months of travel, when they are cornered by some beasts. They're horrible, disgusting spider-beetles the size of a fucking elephant; it's an unfair fight, seven against two, and even with their swords the bugs are fast, their legs sharp, and Shen Yuan is too exhausted after hours of only being able to defeat two of them.

Luo Binghe fights majestically, but even so, there is one thing Luo Binghe cannot fight: being outnumbered. And when Shen Yuan sees the giant insect's attack at Binghe, his only instinct is to get in the way.

The insect's leg pierces through him. It doesn't quite touch Binghe, but Shen Yuan isn't even aware of the pain from the way his nerves have been ripped apart. He's stunned, disoriented, and only a moment later Luo Binghe enters that desperate berserk mode that the protagonist only got once every two hundred chapters. The horrible insects fall, and Shen Yuan doesn't even know why he's still alive.

He supposes that dying while Binghe is fighting is a bit anticlimactic. He's in a pool of his own blood and he's sure that not even the blood parasites will be able to regenerate any of it. He's dying, he knows it, and from the way Binghe drops to his knees beside him after defeating the insects and holds him, Binghe knows it too.

"It's okay," Shen Yuan manages to speak, weakly patting Binghe's face, "follow the map, leave the Abyss and meet your Shizun. I bet you'll scare him to death, but hey. You're a great boy. A very good one. Show him there's no one better than you for him."

Luo Binghe holds him. Shen Yuan is aware that there were blood parasites in his food months ago, but oh well. Nothing can be done now. It's too much.

Actually, he wants to say something else, something other than a pathetic goodbye talking about how the ex-stallion protagonist should go after his Shizun's bone, but while he recognizes that he is dying (he already died once, damn it, he recognizes death) a blue screen flashes in his head.

[ Recalculating data... Correcting recipient... Downloading files... Importing... ]

[ Bugs fixed! ]

[ Returning the Host to his main user... ]

At the exact moment Shen Yuan dies, Shen Qingqiu wakes up in Qian Cao with a gasp, suddenly touching his chest where a second ago he had felt a hole that pierced him from side to side. His head hurts, his muscles burn, and someone definitely screams in surprise because a bunch of disciples call out to Mu Qingfang and, damn, it's fucking chaos.

He's apparently been in a coma for the past eighteen long months since the Immortal Alliance Conference. A qi deviation? No one knew. It was as if he were just asleep, but nothing woke him. His vital signs were normal, low, but active. Except for Without-a-cure, there was nothing else in his spiritual veins, and Without-a-cure could not cause his current state.

Now, with a huge headache, Shen Qingqiu remembers. He remembers not only the last year and a half with Binghe in the Abyss, but his last years as Shen Qingqiu. And he remembers that, just after of pushing into the Abyss, the fucking System COLLAPSED! Damn SHITTY AI! And Shen Qingqiu believed that he was really going to deport him back to his body even if he pushed Binghe into the Abyss! ... But he hadn't. Just to a random demon's body until the system repaired itself.

The story he tells to Mu Qingfang about the qi deviation after Binghe was swallowed by the Abyss is as good as any. So, Mu Qingfang finally lets him rest until he recovers, and Shen Qingqiu accepts it.

During the Abyss, he had been... Free, somehow. He had no memory of being Shen Qingqiu, and he hadn't had to pretend to be anyone else. It had been the greatest freedom he had had since he arrived. Fuck, he has a lot to think about. How, above all, what the hell he's going to do now that, damn it, he knows Luo Binghe has somehow fallen in love with him. Fuck.

... Well, at least the other transmigrant on the scene will surely have something to say. Eighteen months in a coma! Ha! Shang Qinghua wouldn't even know what hit him.

[starry-bi-sky]

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[robinsgrl]

rafe and his weird girl texts cause weird girl is obviously chronically online but that’s for the twitter post i have planned 😝😝😝

weird girl masterlist

main masterlist

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki who breaks his sleep schedule ONLY on your birthday because he wants to be sure he’s the first one to text you.

at exactly midnight .on.the.dot. you get a string of messages from your boyfriend saying :

“happy birthday, moron.”

“i love you and all that stupid mushy shit”

“you better say it back. fucked up my sleep for you.”

“❤️”

he doesn’t even care if you’re already asleep, he’s already sure he was the very first one to text you but if you are still awake he’s even more proud cause you saw it happen. him who you (and his friends) tease all the time for going to sleep at like 8:30 sharp stayed up doing fuck all just to be the first to wish you a happy fucking birthday.

so yeah, you bet your ass he’s proud. and he’ll go to sleep and knock out immediately with a smirk on his face when you text him a “thank you sm, katsuki !!! i love you sosooososos much💕💕”

“yeah you better. go to bed, g’night <3”

n’ yeah okay, maybe he’ll be a bit crankier than usual, but it’ll be worth it seeing how bright you smile and jump to hug him, kissing all over his cheek with thank you’s and love you’s.

he’ll just take it out on kaminari.