#9 x 12

[picsofgavinreed]

[toaro-star]

All algebraic redesign in half human thingy+ doodle of them

[dat1angel]

When Ra's needed an heir, Talia impregnated herself with The Detective's DNA to give him the perfect offspring. When she delived fraternal twins the boy was raised to one day take over the League and the girl was kept around so that she might one day provide the LoA with new recruits. When she came of age and learned that the only reason she was kept around was the idea of her future children, she fled. They never found her.

Years later, Duke Thomas introduces his family to his new boyfriend, Danny Fenton.

[roger-that-cap]

delicate

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: cheating (it’s not bradley who does it but it is on the reader), slight emotional cheating, alcohol use, uh that’s it really! unedited as always!

word count: 4.4k

summary: bradley bradshaw has a best friend. he is also in love with his best friend. it’s a shame that everything’s just a little too delicate to mess with.

the way that i’m actively participating in this fandom is literally so funny to me considering i swore off posting my work in any fandom in like 2022 but here we are. my obsession with the white man with the mustache cannot be thwarted by words of the past. or the man with the cute glasses. or the cocky one with the toothpick. but we’ll take it one day at a time

also this is inspired by delicate by taylor swift ofc 🤪 this is for all my lover girls/boys/friends who want hot guys to dream of them. we are cut from the same cloth and we are two sides of the same coins.

Bradley Bradshaw was an outgoing guy. He was the guy that stopped the music just so that he could put on a show of his own. He was the guy that walked in late, expected attention, and got it. He was the guy that took other people out of their shells. He was confident in a way that was endearing. He was steady on his feet and he never faltered.

Until he met you.

The first time he saw you at the Hard Deck, he was intimidated. You were having so much fun on your own with your little group, clearly civilians who ended up in a bar full of sharks in uniform. That first night, all he did was look from afar.

The second time he saw you, your group was a little smaller, but you were still sporting that same smile. He was close enough to hear you turn a few men down over the course of the night, and that was enough to throw him off again. If it was meant to be, he’d see you again, he thought to himself.

And then he saw you again.

It was the night Penny finally put a karaoke machine in the bar. Bradley managed to convince all of the squad to come, simply because he scheduled himself for at least 3 songs. So they all showed up, and just as he was about to start thinking of what his opener was going to be, the bar music stopped and the karaoke machine started playing, accompanied with girly laughter.

There you were. Standing right at the front of the room with sunglasses over your face and a mic to your lips, fighting a smile as you started a one woman rendition of “End Game” by Taylor Swift.

It was clear by the grin on your face that you were doing it purely to make your friends laugh. He watched you in awed silence, dancing all over the small space and laughing when you took a misstep.

“She’s more ballsy than even you, Bradshaw,” Hangman said, nodding up to you dancing. “Or maybe the word is obnoxious.”

“She’s so cute,” Natasha said, laughing. “I love it.”

“Big reputation, BIG reputation,” you were saying into the mic, leaning halfway over.

“I’d have to be so drunk to do that,” Bob muttered to himself, but even he couldn’t deny the guts it took to go up there even as a joke.

The song ended, and you kindly handed the mic to the man standing at the machine, a sheepish look on your face until you were surrounded by your laughing friends.

“You gonna top that, Bradshaw?” Jake asked, and then Bradley looked over at you again, still smiling.

“I’ll let the bar cool down and prepare for me,” Bradley said, still looking over at you. It was then that Jake caught him.

“Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“Huh?”

“You should talk to her,” Jake repeated, and Bradley frowned at him. “She's pretty. Looks nice enough.” There was a pause, and then that ever-mocking smirk that came to haunt everyone’s dreams. It meant Jake was up to something. “Or I will.”

So, he did. He walked up to you, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that bad. The worst thing you could do was say “no”, and he would take that in stride. He never had to before, but he would if it meant he could just talk to you. Just see.

He was walking up to you, coming from behind, and then it was like you knew he was coming, because you whipped right around. And then he caught your eyes and all he could say was, “I love your hair.”

He kicked himself in that moment, but he realized afterwards that was probably what saved him. It was a strange comment, but it was better than a sleazy one. It was probably the only reason you didn’t tell him to leave you alone right away.

“Thanks!” You looked him up and down, but it wasn’t super flirtatious- you were just looking, like you were searching for a genuine compliment to give him. You just looked so sweet. “That mustache and shirt combo is awesome. I wish I could pull off colors like you.”

And that was the story of how you and Bradley became close friends. In the beginning, he told himself that he was okay with being just friends with the pretty middle school teacher. He was totally okay with you having a boyfriend, because he was your friend, and only that. But every time he saw you smile and laugh or how passionate you were while creating your lesson plans, he couldn’t help but know that he was lying to himself.

It didn’t help that your boyfriend was a piece of shit. Originally he wasn’t one outright, it was just the little things. He walked on the wrong side of the sidewalk. Bradley witnessed him make you split the tab at the bar. He had a wandering eye. He touched you only when another man got close, almost like he was guarding a treasure rather than protecting the love of his life. It was all wrong, and it all left a sour taste in Bradley's mouth.

The sour taste only got worse when five months into knowing you, that same good for nothing boyfriend of yours got another girl pregnant.

Bradley could have sworn that he was going to get discharged for beating up an enlisted man the first time he heard the news. You were crying, bawling your eyes out over the phone in the middle of the night, crying so hard you were nearly throwing up. You told him that you were calling him because you had nowhere to go and you had to get out of your house. He didn’t blame you. In fact, he had never driven so fast.

So, you stayed at his house that night. One night turned into three, and then three nights turned into a week, and it snowballed from there. At first, it was easy to hide his feelings. You were sad, and making a move was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted was for you to feel better, and soon you eventually did. But his selfish mind almost wished that you never had, because the second you started smiling again in his house, in such close quarters to each other, he felt his resolve slipping.

He felt the words coming on the tip of his tongue every morning. You left earlier than him to go to your classroom and set up, and you always left coffee out for him. Sometimes you made his eggs if you had enough time. You made dinner more often than not, insisting on doing that if he wasn’t going to charge you for staying with him. And then you would pick the best movies and you liked the ones he picked, too. You sang in the shower and the bathroom you used always had makeup and face wash and a comb in it, but you still kept it neat. The words were close to escaping his mouth, but when he clamped his teeth down and held it in, it made that same sour taste that your boyfriend did.

That very sour taste in his mouth was there at the bar when he realized he was watching you far too often for it to be friendly. The last thing he wanted to do was make it seem like he was trying to make a move on you while you were clearly still trying to get over what your ex had done.

“You’d better get your girl, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, and Bradley rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girl and she’s a grown woman, she can do what she wants,” he said tiredly, his voice so monotonous that the words sounded rehearsed. He knew that all his friends knew that they were, and it seemed like everyone but you had caught on to the hopeless romantic act he was hiding.

“Well, she never drinks and she doesn’t look like she’s handling it too well.” And then Bradley’s head whipped to the side, just where he knew you were.

Just as Jake said, you were walking up to the karaoke machine, an equally drunk Natasha by your side as you looked through the selection, no doubt about to pick something obnoxious. You weren’t as alert as you usually were, and it worried him. You hated being out of it, that’s why you never drank. He walked up to you quickly, knowing that if you started a song there was no taking you away until it was over.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said from behind you, and he saw your shoulders tense. “I think it’s time to wrap it up.”

“Wrap it up?” You slurred, looking up at him with those pretty eyes that always made his heart skip a beat. “Wrap it up?!” Natasha grimaced at you and then at him, already knowing exactly where it was going. “You know who didn’t wrap it up-”

“It’s okay, that’s not what he meant,” Nat rushed out, turning to look at Bradley. Natasha was one of those that could be four times over the legal limit and no one would no. He envied her in that regard. You were clearly the opposite.

“I just wanted to sing a song,” you said, poking Bradley’s firm chest. “You gonna let me sing a song, Rooster?” There was something about the way you said his callsign that had his cheeks going red. You always called him Bradley, except for when you had that one look in your eye, the one that really had him biting his tongue. “You gonna get off that perch and sing with me?”

“I think it’s time to drop you off at your place,” he assured you without even thinking, but he immediately wanted to swallow his own words when Natasha shook her head rapidly.

“I got kicked out,” you hiccuped, giving him a pointed look. “I sleep in your bed, remember?” You had no idea how much he wanted that to be true.

“Not in my bed,” he corrected quickly when Natasha’s brows shot upward. “In my house.”

“Well, you should probably take her home before she starts a song,” Nat whispered. “She was about to pick “Cowboy Casanova”, that was going to be a disaster.”

He chucked a bit as he touched your arm, his heart fluttering as you looked up at him with your pretty, expressive eyes. His laugh died in his throat. “A-are you ready?”

“Do I get a Bronco ride?”

“You sure do,” he said, and then you two were walking out in the night.

It was easy to get you in the car. You were an easy drunk, just loud. He buckled you up easily and shut the door as you started your own rendition of some Taylor Swift song you had probably told him to listen to.

After your song ended, the ride was quiet. He was happy with the quiet. He was happy because that meant he didn’t have to open his mouth to talk, which meant that he could physically roll his lips shut. Closed lips meant that there was no possibility of him saying something and fucking up a good time. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re all smiles now,” he couldn’t help but point out, and he saw you turn towards him.

“You make me smile,” you said easily, still drunk, but it made his heart skip regardless.

Once again, the ride was quiet besides the purring of his Bronco and the occasional blinker noise. Even the music was turned down, but your head was bobbing to some imaginary beat. He couldn't help but make himself see this as a nicer moment than it really was, as a sweeter moment. In reality, he was taking you home because you were about to drunkenly sing a Carrie Underwood song that was going to have you feeling humiliated by the morning. In his mind, he was simply taking you home and making sure you got inside safely. In his mind, it was a simple night, free of drama. There was certainly no cheating boyfriend and no tears.

“What do you dream about?”

Your quiet yet certain tone broke the tension in the atmosphere of his Bronco. “What?”

And then you spoke again, somehow sounding completely sober. “What do you dream about, Bradley?”

“Uh,” he said, feeling his cheeks get a little pink. “I guess it depends.”

“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder-” a small burp escaped your lips— definitely drunk—, “do you ever dream of me?”

His heart stopped. He was so glad you were drunk. There was no way you were going to be able to remember the way he uncharacteristically stuttered or didn’t respond for a few seconds. There was no way you’d remember the flush of his cheeks under the bright light.

“W-what?”

You seemed deadly serious. “Do you ever dream of me?”

“I…” almost to his place. Almost to his place. “I think about you a lot,” he settled on saying, his voice much higher than usual.

“Thinking is nice. I can take thinking as the answer. At least thinking is on purpose,” you reasoned with yourself, seemingly to have forgotten he was even there to begin with. “But dreaming is different.”

He was intrigued. His heart was racing, and his hands felt sweaty on the steering wheel. “How so?”

“Dreaming is you being unable to escape a thought,” you said, and he wondered just how you were managing to get your point across so easily while being so smashed. “Dreaming of someone would mean that you think of them even when you’re not thinking. Your subconscious mind lies with them. It’s deeper.”

You were right. He hadn’t thought about it that way, but you were right. There were plenty of things that he swore he was over that he still had nightmares about and every time they happened, he had to face the music.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really hope you think about me enough to see me in your dreams.”

He couldn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? That he certainly did, and that every free moment his mind had meant that it was a free for all full of you and everything about you? Hell, he had once even thought about what your next classroom theme could be. You were that embedded into his mind.

“Wait, is it cool that I said all that?” You asked, blinking up at him slowly as the car came to a stop in your driveway. “I just get really in my head sometimes, sorry if I ruined tonight,” you said, shaking your head with a huge smile, as if you didn’t just rock his entire world in a ten minute drive. “Okay, goodnight.” And then you were jumping out of the car.

“Woah,” he called, racing around from his side and picking you up off the ground. You were laughing, clearly not aware that you had just fallen all over the cement of his driveway. You held onto his arm as he walked the both of you up to his front door, and you almost tripped on a crack in the cement.

“My keys.” You had them in your hand, and for a second, he just watched you calmly struggle with that stupid little smile on your face, like you had all the time in the world as the key kept missing the hole that it didn’t even belong to. “Maybe it’s the wrong door.”

He couldn’t help but laugh when he took the keys from you, already halfway forgetting your conversation from earlier. He held onto your keys as he unlocked his door with his own. He opened the door easily and let you in, prepared to tell you goodnight and go right to his room and try to forget the other was right on the other side of the wall, like you two had done so many times before.

“Where ya going?” Before he could even answer, you frowned at him. “You’re ditching me?”

He turned back around. “Do you need help?”

“I’m a big girl, I can take my dress off,” you said with a grin. “But I- I don’t know. I don’t wanna be alone yet.”

“Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay, you don’t have to be alone.”

And so you weren’t. He stood at the doorway of his guest bathroom, the one that had the makeup and pink towel and even a pink rug. He had given up the space to you without second thought, and as he watched you dart around in it and start to take your hair down and take your makeup off, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You looked so comfortable in his house. It was all he ever wanted wrapped up in just one moment.

“Do you wanna know what broke me the most?” You asked out of the blue as you started to wipe your lipstick off, eyes connecting with his in the mirror. You took a deep breath to wind up for the next round of words even without his response. He knew that you were going to talk regardless. It was one of the things he loved about you.

“I wasn’t even sad about the fact that he cheated. I was happy.”

He was thrown on his ass again by you. You had a habit of taking his breath away more than once a day, probably once every two hours or so to be exact, but this was different. You were pulling no punches. You were throwing hand grenades in the form of words tonight, and he wasn’t even sure you were aware of it.

“It gave me an excuse to leave him. But then there was three or so moments and I realized the reason I was okay with it was because I was finally free of guilt, because the whole time I was with him- I’m an awful person,” you started sobbing and you let yourself sink to the floor, sitting on the pink rug. His brows lifted to his forehead for a split second before he went right down to the ground with you, and his hand found your skin and your back soothingly.

“You’re not a bad person, not even close.” He shook his head. You were an angel. He was genuinely convinced of that.

“I wanted you the whole time.” you slurred, eyes wide but not as present as he wanted them to be. Not while you said the exact words that he had been harboring since what felt like the beginning of time. “Almost ever since I met you. And I can’t help but feel sick when I think about how what he did is my karma.”

He was in shock. He didn’t know if he was more surprised about the fact that you were being so open about something that he was so hush-hush about, or about the fact that you said you wanted him. You wanted him. This was something out of his wildest dreams- just as you had predicted. And then he crashed back down to reality and realized you were drunk off your ass in a party dress, so fucked up that your legs were going every which way and your lipstick was smeared.

“Nothing happened, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly, ignoring the fact that his stomach felt like it was doing a Simone Biles level floor routine.

“But I would’ve,” you admitted, “if you had given me the sign.” Your bottom lip wobbled, and then you were full on sobbing. “I’m a disgusting person. Awful. Oh my god,” you whined, hands over your face as you hyperventilate on his wooden floor.

You were fucked up.

You were so gone, there was no denying that. He forced himself to let the words go in one ear and out the other, and when he took a few deep breaths of his own, he realized that you were still crying.

“You’re not a bad person, I promise.” You didn’t say anything, but after a few moments, he was sure you weren’t going to change your mind. “I think you’ll feel better if we cleaned you up.”

Your mascara was running, your lipstick was still smeared, and you kind of looked like a hot mess, but you were still gorgeous to him. You always would be. You didn’t say anything, and he took a makeup wipe from the counter and without a word started to wipe your face.

It was a silent exchange. Probably because the both of you were too scared to say much else. You let him wipe your face off and then he helped you stand. You let him take your heels off for you. He left for a few seconds and came back with some of your clothes, the nice pajamas he knew you liked to sleep in, and then started the shower and left. You were in and out.

When you were all done, he was sitting at the table. It was late, but he was drinking a beer with his back turned to you. He heard you clear your throat, and he had to stop himself from jumping.

“Goodnight,” you said quietly, and when he said it back, he heard you turn around and walk back to the room he had given you, and the door hut.

He wasn’t going to sleep well at all.

§§

It was Sunday morning. The worst morning for this situation to be happening. If it was a weekday, you would’ve already been gone, at least. He would have had the whole day to think about how to go about it. But it was Sunday morning, and neither of you went to church. You were stuck.

He didn’t expect you to be up. He knew that he could probably walk to the kitchen and be in the living room for most of the morning without you coming out. Your hangover had to be awful. So, he padded out of his bedroom, rubbing his face and going straight to the coffee pot.

That already had coffee in it.

“Hi.” His entire posture changed.

How he had entirely missed you sitting at the table, he didn’t know. But there you were, a cup of coffee in your hands and a small smile on your face.

You were beautiful. He didn’t know how you didn’t look like you were hit by a bud considering how messed up you were last night, but how could you ever? You always looked so out together and so cute. Of course you could smile with a hangover.

“Good morning,” he said, his raspy voice coming out surprised. He was looking at you cautiously, not quite sure if you remembered what happened. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you said, now you were grinning. “It was so nice. Peaceful.” He decided that you definitely didn’t remember a thing, and he relaxed.

He ignored the wave of sadness that came with the loss of tension.

“What about you?” You asked, genuinely wondering, and he sighed. “You have any dreams?” He took a look at you from over the coffee mug he was drinking from. “You know I minored in psych, I love dreams.”

“No, no dreams,” he said, trying to shut out that whole conversation from last night. “I just can’t believe you’re waking up so… happy. Everyone but me and Bob was so drunk.”

“I had a rough night? I cried a lot, huh?” You asked, and he almost laughed in wonder. How did you not realize that he was literally in love with you? How could you forget that the words you said last night were probably the most important ones he had ever heard?

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Everyone has a rough night every once in a while. I’m surprised you don’t have a headache or anything.”

“Yeah. It’s probably canceled out because of the lack of stress I feel now,” you said, and he nodded his head when he assumed that you were talking about shedding the skin of the man that was holding you back. “It was real nice to get all that off my chest.”

He froze.

You were just drinking from your mug, making annotations in your book. He was staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to understand what to make of what you just said. “Thanks for taking my makeup off, too. That would have ruined my skin progress.”

Holy shit, you remembered everything. “What?”

You had to be playing with him. There was no other way. You finally shut your book, and then you leaned forward on your hands and looked at him with your eyes, one of his biggest weaknesses. “I meant everything I said, Bradley.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, I always do,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “That's why I don’t drink. I do things I normally wouldn’t but I never have the luxury of forgetting, so I always wake up embarrassed.”

Did you realize that you were holding his heart in your hands? “Are you embarrassed now?” Please don’t be embarrassed that you said those things. Please don’t be embarrassed because they’re not true. God, let it all be true.

“Only if you want nothing to do with me,” you said softly, looking at him with such vulnerability that it made his heart skip a beat.

“Are you kidding?” He finally said, and he knew then that you were right about letting the feeling lift off of his chest. “You’re in my dreams almost every night, that’s gotta count for something.”

You made the first move to get to him. He realized then that you were a master at making the first move- he had only done it once (after striking out twice) but you had done it twice in two days. And then you were all in his space, breaching it with a certain confidence that made him weak in the knees. It made him want to hold you and hold onto you.

“Almost?” you asked, and as he looked down at you from so close up, he knew what he had already suspected to be true; he was a goner. “I want every dream.”

“Who would I be to deny you?” And then he made a move of his own, kissing you and effectively tying the score 2-2.

*******

AH

[dyminesblog]

Here are my favorite characters

[chaoticgirl23]

Trick question for Final Fantasy fans!

(Final Fantasy fans please forgive me for this...)

[larry-is-my-anchor1]

Season 6 episode 12, titled Recovery, I really am happy Buck is alright. I’m just a bit perturbed the only scene with him and Eddie is when he brings Christopher to the hospital. And Eddie is wiping a tear from his face.

I hate to say it but at this point it feels gosh that the writers did not care to include the relationship between him and Eddie Iin Buck’s coma dream. And aren’t doing a good job of it in the follow up recovery either. It feels purposeful. And I hate that. They write the relationship so differently than any other best friend platonic homonormative relationship . They give these two in particular relationship so much effort and emotion. Such depth and beauty. And Buck almost died and nothing? Eddie has to be send game. All this growth Buck has had and he needs someone as wonderful as Eddie. Please. Please. Please.

[ap0llonian]

Vines and Valdez

LEO VALDEZ x Dionysus!READER

sypnosis: in a haze of pain and intoxication after a grueling mission, you, both injured and exhausted, find yourselves lying side by side in the quiet woods. As you struggle to come to terms with your survival, your playful bickering and retorts reveal deeper feelings. Amidst your banter ans genuine concern for one another, you discover that your stubbornness might just be the key to your bond.

notes: reader is a child of Dionysus (sibling if Pollux), reader is gender neutral, the two of them are oblivious idiots, friends to lovers, fluff

--------

The world around you spun like a merry-go-round that had forgotten how to stop. Everything was a blur of light and color, and you could feel the remnants of whatever you’d consumed earlier still burning through your veins, mixing with the aftereffects of too much wine. You were high, drunk, and quite frankly, blissfully out of it.

Except for the searing pain in your side, the throbbing in your head, and the uncomfortable sensation of blood sticking your shirt to your skin.

Leo wasn’t much better off. He lay next to you, his shirt torn, revealing a deep gash across his torso. His curls were matted with sweat and dirt, and his normally bright eyes were clouded with exhaustion. You both had fought like Tartarus during the last mission, and now you were paying the price. The woods around you were eerily sileny, like even the monsters had decided to call it a day and leave you two dumbfucks alone to die in peace.

“Why aren’t we dead yet?” Leo groaned, attempting to shift upright, but failing back with a very prominent wince.

You lolled your head towards him, a lazy smirk dancing across your lips. “Because we’re just too stubborn to give up.”

He let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a cough when his injuries made themselves known, his face scrunching up in pain. “Or maybe the gods just want to watch us suffer a little longer.” He remarked sarcastically, glaring daggers at the sky as if wanting to tell Zeus to knock it off.

“Probably,” you hummed, tracing patterns in the dirt with your finger, the simple action somehoe fascinating your current state. “They have a sick sense of humor.”

His eyes flickered to you and watched as you clumsily attempted to sit up. “Hey, don’t move too much, you’re still bleeding.” He scolded, his tone a little firmer than before.

“I’m fine. Just a scratch.” You slurred, waving a dismissive hand at him, but the motion caused your vision to spin even more.

Leo rolled his eyes. "Your ‘scratch’ is making a pretty convincing argument for staying still.”

You smirked at him, dramatically clutching your side. “You’re not exactly looking peachy either, Fix-It Felix.” You retorted and stuck your tongue out slightly.

He snorted, trying to hide the flush that was creeping up to his neck. “Who even says ‘peachy’ anymore?”

“Shut up,” you snickered, the sound of your voice almost foreign to your ears. “I feel sick, dude.”

“I had no idea,” he muttered sardonically, but his voice was fond. He tried to sit up again, this time a little slower, his jaw clenching against the pain.

You watched him, your head tilted to the side. It was strange seeing him like this—vulnerable, worn down. Usually, he was the one with the jokes, the quick fix, and the endless energy. But now... now he looked like he was on the verge of collapse.

“Leo,” you began, but he interrupted you with a shake of his head.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice strained. “Don’t start with the sympathy. I’m fine.”

You frowned, and reached out a shaking hand towards him. “But you're not fine. Let me—”

He grabbed your wrist before you could even touch him, his grip surprisingly strong for someone who looked like they could barely hold themselves together. His eyes met yours, a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn’t seem to place. “Don’t, okay? Just... don’t.” He managed to say, his eyes narrowed slightly.

You blinked. “Leo...”

His grip on your wrist loosened, and he sighed, his expression softening. “Sorry, I just— I can’t believe we made it out of there. I honestly thought we were—" He cut himself off, looking away, his jaw clenching.

“Thought we were goners?” You finished for him, your voice light to mask the unease creeping up your spine. “You thought we were goners?”

“Yeah. I’m starting to think my body’s just giving up on me.” He admitted in a mutter.

“No,” you said firmly, and sat upright, despite the dizzines that followed. You ignored his protests and shuffled closer, a glint of determination in your bleary eyes. “You’re too stubborn for that, remember?” You reminded with a cheeky grin, resting a weary arm atop his shoulder.

He laughed breathily. “Right, because stubbornness fixes everything.”

You poked his arm, hard enough to which he winced. “It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

Leo looked at you, really looked at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The tension, the pain, the exhaustion—they melted away, leaving just the two of you in this strange, quiet bubble.

“Yeah,” he murmured, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It has.”

Your smirk formed into a full-blown grin, leaning your shoulder against his. “See? We’re invincible.”

“More like idiots who don’t know when to quit.” He teased, but there was warmth in his voice, a softness that made your heart do an odd little flip.

A noncommittal noise escaped your lips, your eyes closed to emphasize your mock-ignorance. “Can’t we be both?”

He chuckled. "Sure, why not?”

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to just sit there in each other's company, the world fading into the background. The pain was still there, but it felt more distant now, like it was something that belonged to someone else.

After what felt like hours, Leo finally broke the silence, his voice quiet. “You know...” He trailed off, his eyes glancing toward you. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Are you getting sappy on me Valdez?”

“Shut up, I’m being serious.”

“I know, I’m just shitting on you,” You replied softly. You reached out, this time more slowly, and placed a hand on his knee. He didn’t pull away, just watched you with those tired, yet somehow still bright eyes. “I’m glad you’re okay too. And that’s not the wine talking.”

He smiled, a genuine smile that made your heart flutter in a way that had nothing to do with the lingering effects of your father’s wine.

“Maybe we should stop getting ourselves nearly killed.” He suggested playfully, tilting his head slightly closer to yours.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?” You snorted.

Leo groaned and weakly pushed your face away. “You’re impossible.���

You shrugged and grinned cheekily, folding almost numb arms beneath your chest. “And yet you still put up with me.” You shot back, rolling your eyes.

He sighed deeply with mock-exhaustion, almost like he had no choice but to, and leaned his head back against the tree behind him. “Yeah, I do.”

Albeit, the way he said it made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if there was something more behind those words. But then he looked at you, and the familiar spark of mischief was back in his eyes.

“So,” he began. “About the peachy thing—”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” He challenged and shift closer to you, a grin spreading across his worn out face.

You huffed, but the corners of your mouth were fighting to lift upwards. “Maybe I will.”

He raised an eyebrow, gazing at you like no one had ever before. “Yeah? How?”

You tapped your chin, feigning a moment of reverie, then leaned in close. “By surviving the next mission together.”

Leo blinked, the playful glint in his eyes fading into something softer. He turned his head slightly just enough that you could see the tender expression on his face. “Deal,” he said softly, a faint tint of bright red spreading across his cheeks.

You nodded with a smile, and settled back against him, placing your elbow atop his shoulder. And for the first time forever—you allowed yourself to relax.

Maybe you were both idiots, too stubborn for your own good, but as long as you had each other, you figured you could survive anything.

Even if you were just friends for now.

[bugwolfsstuff]

Me at the Annabeth bashing/anti Percabeth/ majority of anti Solangelo/ anti Will Solace/Chiron bashing/anti pjo Chiron tag: If my memory was wiped you'd be my Ares

Me at the pjo Dionysus, Pjo Hermes, Valgrace, Cabin 9, Cabin 12, Pjo Harley, Drew Tanaka x Nyssa Barrera/ Dryssa, Pjo Hephaestus, Pjo Pollux, Leo Valdez, Travis Stoll and Pjo Chiron tags: And you'd all be my Annabeth

[beautifultypewriter]

The Fourth Day of Christmas ~ Evan Buckley

Prompt: Decorating the Christmas tree

Pairing: Evan Buckley x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 937

A/N: First time writing Buck, so I hope it's okay!

You struggled to hold the box in one hand as you used the other to twist the key to Buck’s apartment in the lock. You should have just texted him when you were in the elevator, but you figured you’d be fine on your own. You were wrong. The box almost slipped from your hand, but you caught it at the last second. With a sigh of relief, you managed to unlock the door and push it open, “Buck? I’m here.” Before you could even get the door shut, Buck was bounding into the room and taking the box from your hands. You tried to stop him, “I’ve got it.” He gave you a pointed look and you laughed, fully closing the door now, and stepping further into the apartment. Buck set the box on the kitchen island and watched as you looked around at the decorations.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, “So what do you think?” He looked around the room and you smiled as he refused to meet your eyes, instead opting to look around at all the work he had done. There was garland wrapped around the banister of the stairs and lights strung up wherever he could get them. It was colorful and warm

You smiled at him, “It looks great.” He smiled back at you and you clapped your hands together, “Let’s get started on the tree.” You moved over to the box you had brought with you and opened it up. You couldn’t wait to show Buck your ornaments. Each one was unique and held a special meaning to you and you wanted to share that with him. Turning back around, you were met with Buck holding a clear plastic box filled with colorful and glittery baubles. Your eyes moved from the ornaments to Buck’s face and back again, “What are those?”

He followed your gaze down and then he was looking at you again, his eyebrows furrowed, “They’re my ornaments for the tree.” He shrugged one shoulder as you only stared at him, trying to figure out how to word your next sentence.

“No.”

Buck took a small step back, his mouth open and his eyes wide, “No? What do you mean no?” He clutched the box tighter to his chest, turning slightly as if to shield the decorations from you.

You giggled quietly as you stepped forward, “I’m sorry. I just… I meant those are horrible ornaments.” Buck gasped and you giggled again, “It’s just there’s no personality. No sentimental value. Did you get them on sale?” You could see an orange sticker on the side of the box and Buck swiveled again to hide it from you.

“No!” His shoulders sagged and he loosened his grip on the box, “I might have.” His grip tightened again, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Stepping forward, you ran your fingers through his hair, noting how he melted into your touch, “Of course not. I just think that you deserve something better.” With slow movements, you took the box of baubles from him and set them on the counter. You took Buck’s hand and pulled him over to the box you had brought with you, “Look at these.” You sifted through your ornaments, pulling them out to show Buck what you meant by better. The agnel that had been on your grandmother’s tree when she was a child, your Baby’s First Christmas ornament, the hand painted ornament you had gotten on your trip to Australia, a plastic bauble that had been filled with fake snow and decorated with stickers by your niece, and the Mickey Mouse ears that you had because he was your favorite character. You gushed over each ornament that you pulled from the box, stopping when you sensed that you had shown him enough to get your point across. Looking away from the box, you smiled, “You see?”

Buck wasn’t looking at your ornaments, he was looking at you, a dopey smile on his face as he nodded, “Yeah. Let’s put them up.” You nodded as you placed the ornaments back in the box and carried the entire thing over to the tree. Reaching in, you grabbed the angel and placed her on the tree. Buck followed suit and grabbed an ornament from the box and hooked it onto one of the branches.

The two of you worked together, Buck occasionally asking you about an ornament and you telling him 10 minute stories for each one. When the box was empty, you moved back to the kitchen and grabbed the baubles. Buck bit back a laugh as you open the cheap plastic container and picked a red and silver one, handing it to him. He took it by the hook as you grabbed another one for yourself. The pair of you moved over to the tree and filled in the empty spaces with your baubles. You grabbed a few more and Buck helped you fix any bare spots.

After the tinsel had been set on the branches, you both stepped back. Buck wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close to his side. Your head moved to rest on his shoulder as you both stared at the glittery tree. Buck smiled, “It looks perfect.”

You nodded to him, “It really does.” You adjusted your position so you could look at him, “Thank you for inviting me and my ornaments to be part of your decorating.”

With a grin, Buck leaned down and pecked your lips, “Thanks for being part of it.” You smiled at him and turned to look at the beautiful tree once again.

[deadnatura11]

No but if Buck takes on a more 'parental' role with Chris heading into s8 while Eddie works on himself won't that be even more of a mirror to how Shannon and Eddie were after Chris was born?

Think of the flashbacks to Shannon and Eddie with Baby Chris:

- Eddie saying how Chris "is the priority you should stay here with him" followed by Shannon "so should you"

- Chris crying in the baby monitor, Shannon telling him "Christopher needs you. Go get your son."

- Eddie saying "you're not the only one who feels alone."

While I think Chris will ultimately forgive Eddie, and Eddie will work on himself moving forward, I don't see Eddie forgiving himself that easily and letting Buck take on more of the caretaker role while Eddie works on himself. And, feeling guilty for putting that on Buck, for not being fully present for Chris, Eddie isolates himself further (as we know Ryan told us PLUS mirrors how Eddie said he feels alone, too, after the period of Chris's birth).

I think this will cause some contention in Buck and Eddie’s dynamic. This might be what Oliver referred to as Buck having to "chase" after his next relationship, trying to pin Eddie down to spend time with him rather than avoid him.

And Eddie's resolution of his guilt with Shannon, for not making time for her, being the partner that she needed, can be healed through him taking this second chance to be the partner (to Buck) and father (to Chris) we all know he can be once he gets out of his own way so, like with what happened to Shannon, he doesn't have another good thing slip out of his reach.

Probably after Buck confronts him, of course, and has a conversation with him.

That's just my two cents heading into the finale.

[lovealwayssay]

My brain has completely forgotten almost everything about Supernatural seasons 9 and 12-15. I remember bits and pieces, but I cannot for the life of me tell you what the overarching plot was for any of those seasons. Here’s what I know about each of those seasons:

9. Sam is possessed by an angel? Dean dies in the end and becomes a demon idk

12. Peak Destiel vibes, Mary’s back, Cas is killed?

13. Widower arc, Jack is there

14. Jack kills Mary at some point idk

15. Lets kill God, divorce arc, “You changed me, Dean”, worst finale ever

[fun-k-boards]

Rating rain designs cause I'm bored

First of all we have a solid 6/10 it gets the point across it's pretty but it didn't leave any impression on me idk what else to say

10/10 no explanation needed I want him to do unspeakable things to me

7/10 I like it but it could've been better a bit too complicated for me

9/10 idk what it is it just hits different more simple than MK11 but not too boring like MK9

[instructionsonback]

"SHADOW SERPENT" 9" x 12"

[daravenus]

We are blessed in your pursuit of charit and givens.

With a simple help from you you will make a difference for me and my family .

The number of family is 23 people. The donation is small and the need is great

Donat or share please

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-restore-a-home-filled-with-memories?

My account has already been verified

el-shab-hussein

I really hope your family is doing well!

https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-restore-a-home-filled-with-memories

[onceinabluemoon13]

Looking back at Ricky and Gina’s relationship throughout the series, you can definitely see the influence of Joey and Pacey from Dawson’s Creek.

The thing I loved about Joey and Pacey was that the writers took the time to SHOW their growing connection (aided by the amazing, effortless chemistry between the actors), and we got to witness all of the major firsts in their frenemies-turned-lovers storyline.

There’s something so special as a viewer when we get to experience the growing connection between two characters at the same time they do.

That’s why Rina is so special to me, and why Maybe This Time felt like such a love letter to the shippers (to me, at least).