#loud repost

[pink-strawberry-kissess]

[1dk-anym0r3]

LOUD repost

[thesubwaymp3]

sebastian stan + character bleeding

BONUS:

[c2-eh]

pumamotorsport: 'cutie cutie' - Carlos Sainz, 2024 🎀

[vinnybox]

Frustrated? Crashing out?? Animate it! (Loud)

AUDIO

[nejiinorth]

LOUDEST REPOST EVER. BEST THING EVER WRITTEN.

I THOUGHT OF YOU BETWEEN THE BLOODSHED

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

jason todd comes home to you with bruised knuckles and a heart too full to name. the red hood is all sharp edges and violence, but with you? he's just jason—achingly tender, disarmingly soft, hands that break bones cradling your face like you’re something sacred.

"you taste like gunpowder," you murmur against his lips, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer. his breath is warm, a little ragged, like he’d sprinted up the stairs just to get to you.

"that’s ‘cause i was shootin’ people," jason huffs, but there’s no bite to it—just that low, rough voice curling around the words like smoke. his hands are big where they settle on your waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of your hip bones like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

you hum, tilting your head to kiss him again, slow and lazy. his mouth is chapped, the faint metallic tang of blood lingering from where he’d bitten his own lip too hard earlier. but he sighs into it, lets you lick into his mouth like you own it, like he’d let you take anything from him if you just asked.

when you pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, dark with something that makes your stomach flip. the white streak in his hair is mussed from your fingers, and you reach up to smooth it back, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. he leans into the touch like a cat, a quiet rumble in his chest.

"missed you," he mutters, like it’s a secret. like he’s embarrassed by it.

you snort. "you saw me this morning."

"still missed you."

his nose bumps against yours, clumsy with affection, and you can’t help but smile. jason todd, red hood, the crime lord who’d put a bullet through six men’s kneecaps tonight, is nuzzling into your hand like he’s starved for it.

his fingers trail up your sides, over your ribs, like he’s counting them. when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "thought about you. when i was out there."

"yeah?" you tease, but your heart stutters anyway. "what, in between breaking bones?"

"especially then," he admits, and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, catching on the swell of it. "kept thinkin’ about how you’d laugh if you saw me. how you’d roll your eyes at me for bein’ dramatic."

you do roll your eyes now, but he just grins, that crooked, boyish thing that makes him look younger. makes him look like jason, not the red hood, not the ghost of robin. just yours.

"you’re such a sap," you tell him, but your hands are gentle where they frame his face, where your thumbs trace the scars on his cheeks.

he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm. "only for you."

and god, if that doesn’t make your chest ache.

for some reason, tonight felt more... intimate. more warm and safe. soft and right. so right. the two of you sitting on the couch, with you situated on jason's lap as you cuddled and shared soft, tender kisses.

and you can’t help but stare.

because up close, he’s beautiful.

the way his lashes cast shadows over his cheeks when he blinks, long and dark like ink smudged on paper. the faint scar cutting through his eyebrow, a story he’d shrug off if you asked but you love anyway. his nose, slightly crooked from one too many fights, and the way it brushes against yours when he leans in, clumsy and sweet.

his lips are chapped, but they’re warm, and they part so easily under yours—like he’s been waiting for this, like he’d let you take and take until there’s nothing left.

and his hands. god, his hands. big and rough, knuckles bruised and fingers calloused from years of gripping guns and knives and the edges of his own rage. but right now, they’re gentle. one cradles the back of your head like you’re something precious, the other tracing idle patterns on your hip like he’s memorizing you.

you reach up, thumb brushing over the white streak in his hair, the strands soft between your fingers. he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second—like he’s savoring it, like he’s starved for it.

and you think, this. this is the jason no one else gets to see. the one who sighs into your touch, who lets you trace the scars on his skin without flinching, who kisses you like he’s trying to say something words could never hold.

"what?" he murmurs, catching you staring.

"nothin’," you whisper, but your fingers don’t stop tracing the curve of his jaw. "just thinkin’ about how pretty you are."

his breath hitches, just a little, and you watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows. "pretty?" he echoes, voice low, disbelieving. like no one’s ever said it to him before. like he doesn’t know what to do with the word.

"yeah," you murmur, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. "so pretty it hurts."

his cheeks flush, just a little, and he ducks his head like he’s trying to hide it. but you catch it—the way his lashes flutter, the way his grip on your waist tightens, just for a second. like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

"shut up," he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. just that quiet, aching vulnerability he only ever shows you.

your hands reach for his face, cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the high curve of his cheekbones. his skin is warm under your palms and you tilt his head up just enough to see the way his lashes flutter, the way his lips part—just slightly—like he’s already waiting.

and god, he’s beautiful like this.

you press the first kiss to the corner of his mouth, soft and teasing, feeling the way his breath stutters against your lips. the second lands on the bridge of his nose, right over that little scar he never talks about. the third finds the dip under his eye, where his skin is unfairly soft, and he lets out a quiet, shaky exhale, his fingers tightening where they grip your waist.

"fuck," he whispers, voice rough, and you can feel the way his pulse jumps under your fingertips.

you don’t stop. you kiss the crease between his brows, the spot just below his ear, the sharp line of his jaw—every touch feather-light, reverent. and jason melts, his shoulders slumping, his head tipping back against the couch like he’s surrendering. like he’s letting you take him apart piece by piece.

when you finally press your lips to his, it’s slow. sweet. his mouth is warm, yielding under yours, and he makes this quiet, desperate noise in the back of his throat when you suck gently on his bottom lip. his hands slide up your back, fingers trembling just a little, like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer or hold himself back.

you pull away just enough to murmur against his lips, "let me worship you, dearest."

his breath catches, and for a second, he just looks at you—eyes dark, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen and parted. then he’s surging forward, crashing his mouth against yours like he’s starving for it, like he’s trying to say yes, yes, yes without words.

and you let him. you let him take, let him press you closer, let him kiss you like he’s drowning and you’re the only air left in the world.

he kisses you like a man starved, all rough edges and clumsy hunger, but you slow him down with a hand fisted gently in his hair. "easy," you murmur against his lips, and he whines—actually whines—high in his throat, his hips jerking up against yours like he can’t help it.

you swallow the sound, kissing him deeper, slower, until his frantic movements still and he’s just shaking beneath you, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. his breath comes in ragged bursts against your mouth, his chest heaving, and when you pull back just an inch, his eyes are blown black with want, his lips slick and parted.

"please," he gasps, and it’s wrecked, broken, like he’s begging for something he doesn’t even know how to name.

you shush him with another kiss, this one lingering at the corner of his mouth, then trailing down to his jaw, his throat. he tilts his head back with a groan, baring the column of his neck to you like an offering, his pulse fluttering wild under your tongue. you bite down—just a tease, just enough to make him curse—and he arches off the couch, a strangled "fuck—!" tumbling from his lips.

his hands scramble at your waist, tugging at your clothes, but you catch his wrists, pinning them gently to the cushions above his head. his breath hitches, his thighs tensing beneath you, and when you finally meet his gaze again, he looks ruined.

"let me take care of you," you whisper, and his throat works around a swallow, his lashes fluttering.

he nods, once, sharp and desperate. "yeah. yeah, okay—please."

and so you do.

…1.4k full of soft jason- WHAT CAN I EVEN SAY TO THIS AHHHH I NEED MORE BUT MY BRAIN IS SO AHHHHHHH sorry, guys—i'm hopeless at writing anything steamier than slow kisses and yearning glances and whatever this is. maybe someday, when i've deemed that my skills are worthy enough, there'll be a part two. maybe-

[sabthecrab]

happy update day!!

[starseongs]

ok i haven’t really ever watched old ateez bday lives so tell me why i just came across a clip of yunho domming mingi over the phone bc he didn’t realize he was on speaker . 🧍🏼

[mychlapci]

sentinel fragrance

[charming-merlin]

loud repost

fine, I'll say it. žižka should've been romanceable in KCD2.

[buildbuymode]

don's bachelor party was just him + his (technically platonic -- they have a history but it's strictly a former friends with benefits situation these days) bestie nina hanging out + freakin' out just a little about the fact that he's about to be ultra tied down. it's just cold feet for don, but nina is a little less here for the monogamy thing, and a lot less here for the marriage thing.

[shortnotsweet]

APPLES IN THE SKY (excerpt from THE THRILLING AND NOT AT ALL REPETITIVE ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN MAN AND KID DANGER: “A CHRONOLOGY OF ENTIRELY TRUE AND HEROIC EVENTS COINCIDING WITH THE END OF HISTORY”) [1] [2] [3] [4]

[ Henry’s face is unreadable. In the background, desert mountains and vegetation rush past. Smoke rises in the distance, backlighting ambiguous red shapes that could be plant life, flaming crosses, or even ominous figures. The camera cuts to the back of the car with the invalid license plate reading “HERO”, speeding towards a red horizon. Ray twists back in his seat with a smile, reflected in the lens of Henry’s sunglasses. In the review mirror, Henry’s expression is contemplative. The shot pans to a bird’s eye view of the car eating up highway miles. ]

Charli XCX’s “Apple” from BRAT (2024): “I guess the apple could turn yellow or green. I know there's lots of different nuances to you and to me—I wanna grow the apple, keep all the seeds, but I can't help but get so angry you don't listen to me. To the airport—the airport.”

PANEL NOTES:

The smoke is an implication of wildfires in the surrounding area, which Henry and Ray simply drive past because there’s nothing else to do. Maybe those days are behind them. Maybe they’re just not adept in the art of firefighting, and the bigness of a wildfire is too rural or too raw for them to even adress. I think there’s a sort of irony to it, and it’s either heroes ignoring a disaster past their prime or simple not caring; they’re speeding off into an undefined future and therefore no longer grappling with apathy, but sliding into it. Thus, the road is interpreted as a junction between natural conflict running its course and urban obligation.

This was vaguely inspired, albeit not lifted directly, from my millionth or so reread of “Cuticle Tear” by atbash on AO3. Granted, it takes place in a broken-down truck and is not needlessly melodramatic, but AO3 user atbash does more with obligatory dialogue and omitted assumptions than I could do in 20 panels or so.

Specifically, the lyric “‘cause I’ve been looking at you so long now I only see me. I wanna throw the apple into the sky, feels like you never understand me, so I just wanna drive…” struck me as somewhat in line with the feeling—and example—I got from the fic.

Of course, neither yellow or green are used in the actual color palette, but the song carries themes of intertwined identity and generational effects passed down. I think Ray has imparted a lot of the best and worst things about himself to Henry, through the means of their friendship, professional, and mentor relationship. He’s not his dad. It’s worse, almost, that he’s not, because then it would at least be hereditary.

“Apple” is my favorite BRAT (2024) song right now, so of course it’s stuck in my head; I think there’s a flippant, escapist quality to it and can imagine two friends listening to it on the highway, checking out, but also—there’s not quite a realization, more like an unspoken feeling that what you are is a product. And it’s someone else’s fault. And when you look at each other, you’re seeing something else, or maybe you’re trying to. There’s something distantly escapist and obviously upbeat about the song, but there’s a disdain there, too.

It’s hardly visible, but the license plate on the car reads “HERO” singular, which is invalid but implies they have either a fake plate or Swellview is just so strange that their town itself has exceptions as to how they’re issued, again violating the laws and conventional physics of surrounding territory. They’re a weird exception, as always, and they’re getting away with it.

Their identities are so intertwined at this point that theyre conflated, so there’s an obligatory ego flattening going on as well as an erasure of both or one of them—most likely Henry’s—to accommodate. You might call it being a teammate, although how Henry feels about it after all this time is unsure.

Ray did this to him, the good and the bad doesn’t matter; it’s the fact that he did it.

[skopostheorie]

[garygoldenbignaturals]

I haven't gotten this thought in-game yet so i never knew what the solution was but my god this is all the vocabulary i need when I'm in one of my hater moments

[residencyisstrange]

I am Ehab Ayyad ❤ a palestinian youngman from Gaza🍉🇵🇸, seeking to find safety and peace ☝️for my family if twenty members. We have been ❤🇵🇸🍉passing through all forms of torture and pain for almost ten months because of the war on Gaza.

Life is very miserable and tragic❤🇵🇸 as we are now deprived ❤🇵🇸🍉of all means of living. Drink water, healthy food health care and medicine❤🇵🇸 have become things 🇵🇸🍉❤of the past. We are dying dear friends. That is why I am asking you to help us break through this tough situation.Life in hot tents is incredibly sad and miserable. We are now experiencing the worst circumstances we have ever had in our life. The war has stolen happiness and life from us.

Please don't leave us alone in such dire times. Your kind contribution either through donating whatever you can or sharing my posts will be highly appreciated and valued.❤🇵🇸🍉

^^^^^

[killingismybussinessss]

Loud repost idc

i wanna fuck dave mustaine