#210612

[everyoneswoo]

[210612] Seventeen Twitter Update:

[17'S] W Korea Behind Photo📸

[parkjinkyungz]

210612 Weverse Update

와우!🥺오늘 넘 행복했고 좋은 시간 함께해줘서 고마워요💟와우가 있어서 늘 행복해요💖🌈 잘자요!

[rocketpunch-updates]

210612 Rocket Punch Yunkyoung at Fansigning Event in Nuri Dream Square © aviation do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[forseokgyu]

SEVENTEEN 8th Mini Album ‘Your Choice’ Official Photo BESIDE Ver. #DK

[chengxiao-wjsn]

210612 Cheng Xiao at Shanghai Hongqiao International Airport © 程潇·pika发电站 do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[meaninglessblah-writes]

your WIP list is amazing, B ✨ how about a snippet for “the last will and testament of timothy jackson drake-wayne” ?

I know you like 'em messy 😉 Hopefully you enjoy something Dick-centric 💙

"It's okay to be sad," Barbara soothes. Dick's skin prickles where she makes contact, the kindness in her gesture lost to his frenzy.

"I'm not sad," Dick growls, and Barbara clings tighter. As if she can impart the right emotion into him with pressure.

"You need to let yourself mourn—"

"I'm not sad, I'm fucking angry!" Dick bellows, and doesn't have enough left in him to feel guilty when she recoils. "I'm furious with him. How could he? How dare he?"

Barbara looks stricken. Dick can't stand to look in her eyes, can't bear the pity there. He launches to his feet, pacing the length of the room.

"How dare he leave me with this responsibility? Like I don't have enough already—" Dick bleats a laugh that's two parts manic and one part drowned. "How could he do that to us? How could he just— just leave like that? Like he doesn't matter? Like we don't matter?"

Dick's hands are trembling. His knuckles beg for the kiss of plaster. Dick squeezes them so tight they go numb.

"I hate him," Dick spits, teeth flashing. His eyes burn. "I hate him, and I can't even tell him."

Prompt me again!

[tamagofried]

⤅ purple .  do not edit or logo crop

(HQ: 1 - 2)

[sakotty]

デジタルカメラマガジン 2024年11月号

連載「ジワリズム」

第17回　時がきこえる 消えゆく景色の通り道

Photo & Words : Sakotty

Editor : Taishi Sakamoto

[dkbpics]

source

[autisticlibrary]

ENHYPEN Members [June 2021] #3 210610, 210612, 210612, 210613, 210614, 210614

[svt-weverse]

210612 THE8 Weverse Post

🐸: Huge sun🌞

🔗: https://weverse.io/seventeen/artist/2-14698

[everyoneswoo]

[210612] Seventeen Twitter Update:

SEVENTEEN 8th Mini Album 'Your Choice' Official Photo BESIDE Ver.

[rocketpunch-updates]

210612 Rocket Punch Dahyun at Fansigning Event in Nuri Dream Square © little rocket do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[forseokgyu]

SEVENTEEN 8th Mini Album ‘Your Choice’ Official Photo BESIDE Ver. #MINGYU

[chengxiao-wjsn]

210612 Cheng Xiao at Shanghai Hongqiao International Airport © 程潇·pika发电站 do not edit, crop, or remove the watermark

[meaninglessblah-writes]

just read through your WIP list and loved so many of them, it's a delight - "homework" stood out to me, as did "appearances can be deceiving" and "stains" and "walk a mile" and... fuck, so many others. gonna be obsessing over those concepts for days if not weeks

This is a very late response, but I appreciate your prompt very much. And I hope you enjoy these snippets ❤️

Homework

“Is there a reason you put me, a complete stranger, down as your emergency contact?” Bruce probes, gentler than he expects. At their feet, pigeons pick eagerly at what remains of Tim's lunch, fighting over bread crusts. Tim looks down at his shoes, jaw tight and lips pursed. The bruise swelling his left eyelid closed looks all the more violent against his pallor.  Just when Bruce thinks the line of interrogation is a lost cause, the teen mumbles, “I didn’t have anyone else to call.”  Bruce opens his mouth to ask about parents, or relatives, but closes it at the tearful look in Tim’s eyes. He looks away before Bruce can get a proper look, sniffing inconspicuously.  “It’s fine, you can leave now. You don’t have to be responsible for me. You’ve done enough.” 

Appearances Can Be Deceiving

It’s when Jason shoves him up against a brick wall, a pipe digging into Dick’s back as their lips crash together, that Dick realises this goes beyond playful. The way Jason kisses him is ravenous, all-consuming. Dick can’t keep up with his ferocity, blindsided, and after a moment Jason pulls back.  His lips shine in the moonlight, teeth peeking out in a grin that’s all fondness and mischief. Dick reels, staring dumbly as Jason huffs a laugh. He wonders when the last time he saw Jason smile — actually smile — was.  “Did a thug hit you in the head, old man?” he teases, and looks nervous after a moment, when Dick can’t summon an answer from his stupefied brain. Dick forces a deep laugh past his lips, the sound more choked and less natural than he’d like.

Stains

DON'T TALK TO ME. The neat font stamped across his left cheekbone was done at Dick’s request. An attempt at preventing further deaths on his behalf.  It had been a client, some cartel magnate in the south, who’d taken a liking to Slade’s shiny new apprentice during a contract briefing. Dick had followed his instructions to the letter, shadowing Slade, letting him do the negotiating. Remaining unspoken unless Slade indicated he wanted something specific from him.  Dick had kept his eyes away from their client, but it was a lost cause from the start. The guy was obsessed, and all the more provoked by Dick’s stoic ignorance. He almost felt bad for the magnate, for the death warrant he signed with every coaxing word that fell from his lips.  Dick had kept very still, had been sure not to react to his innuendos and sweet-talking charms. Had kept his expression plain and disinterested.  It wasn’t enough to stop Slade putting a sword through the magnate's tongue.

Walk A Mile

Damian runs his thumbs over the raised ridges on his wrists again, mute. There's an unease simmering in his gut, but he can't tell if that's his own anxiety, or the effects of taking medication on an empty stomach. He wonders if Drake feels like this always, in a perpetual state of discomfort. He's all the more impressed by the man's stoic demeanour, and all the more disappointed that he's carried this burden alone for so long. The trill of the nearby cell left unattended on the coffee table spurs him to hastily pull down the long, frayed sleeves of Drake's— of his sweatshirt. The caller ID reads as unknown, so Damian answers with an uncertain, "Hello?" "Damian?" the familiar voice on the other end asks, and the relief is immediate. "Richard," he breathes, shoulders unspooling. They hitch right back up to his ears at Dick's flat, "No, actually, it's Tim."

Prompt me again!