#FlashBack

[bnha-mha-screenshot]

[evilhorse]

We definitely peaked in high school.

(Magik Volume 2 #4)

[lyn31]

❝ Zayne doesn’t respond, but something in his posture loosens. But before Caleb can suggest anything, Ever cuts in with a glint in her eyes. "Too bad Josephine won’t let us eat sweets before a proper meal," she says. Caleb groans dramatically. "She’s a tyrant, I swear." Rose gives him a flat look. "She feeds you." "That’s just a distraction from her oppressive rule!" Ever snorts, while Zayne just watches the exchange, his expression unreadable but… not entirely tense. There’s a flicker of something—curiosity, maybe, or just mild amusement. Caleb, still lying on the floor, sighs. "Guess we’ll just have to wait, huh?" He glances at Zayne. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get something sweet after lunch. It’s a promise." Zayne doesn’t react at first, but then, after a beat, he gives the smallest nod. It’s a small step, but a step nonetheless. ❞

This is like that meme... People that don't know: "Yay Zayne is here!" People that know: "Ah... Zayne is here..."

🥹🥲

Chapter 8 on Ao3

Love and Deepspace - What If?

Summary

On what should be her triumphant first day as a Hunter, Ever Xiang is pulled from the field by a health complication—only to find herself face-to-face with Zayne Li—her childhood friend—whose presence brings back a memory she didn’t expect to surface.

Ao3 link

My Masterlist ✨

Notes

This is an old WIP, I commission an art for my OCs last month because of queue we just start last Saturday and now it's finish Friday! So I was like this is the perfect time for it! It’s nothing grand, but this fic is basically how I got into LaDs fanfic so far 💕 If anyone else enjoys it too, that’s a bonus! CW: Implied human/children experimentation.

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Here is Rose and Ever! From Beeyo on IG!

These two fools trying their best lol

I usually keep my MC vague because I want the other to imagine her however they want but ofc I have her in my mind as well and that just how she look to me 👀💕

Also you might notice I made MC name Ever, rather than Everlyn (like in my Vampire AU), because even though it's not my real name I use it quite a lot on the internet and it still feel hella weird..... So she's Ever now! Dark humor I know.... EVER chasing Ever, Ever might be destroying EVER? lol

*Ahem* Anyway sorry! Enjoy!

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Ever Xiang—today is her day.

Well, hers and her sister’s. Rose Xiang.

Together, they're finally stepping into the world as official Hunters. After everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve survived, today should feel like a victory. It should mean something. And maybe it does—maybe it would—if she weren’t currently pacing through a hospital hallway instead of standing with her squad.

Not exactly the grand start she had in mind.

A quiet sigh slips past her lips as she pushes forward, boots tapping out a steady rhythm on the tile floor. The mission was supposed to be simple: investigate a flagged warehouse. No real threats, just intel-gathering. At least, that’s what the higher-ups claimed. And from what she saw, her team—Rose, Tara, and Lara—still had it under control when she left.

And yet.

Her fingers curl into the hem of her jacket. Even knowing that, even trusting them, she hates being away. It’s not just her sister she left behind—it’s her people. The ones who should be at her side for their first real operation.

But no. Instead, she’s here.

Because of her damn heart.

Technically, both she and Rose have it—Protocore Syndrome. A heart condition caused by the very thing that makes them choose to be Hunters. Living with an Aether Core fused into your chest isn’t exactly natural. Some days, it behaves. Other days, it reminds you that your body was never meant to contain that kind of power.

It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it lands her right here—under the Bureau’s thumb, dragged off-mission for mandatory checks. Protocol. Tiresome, inconvenient protocol. She feels fine now.

Not that saying so will get her out of this any faster.

She exhales sharply, shaking off the edge of frustration as she finally reaches the assigned office. After an irritating amount of forms and biometric scans, she rolls her shoulders and knocks on the door. Then, without waiting for a response, she pushes it open.

And freezes.

What she didn’t expect was a slap of familiarity so strong it nearly knocks her off balance.

The office is pristine—too pristine. White walls, a wall-to-wall shelf of medical journals, and a desk arranged with surgical precision. But it’s not the sterile setup that hits her.

It’s him.

Standing beside the desk, leafing through a patient file, is a man with sharp features and hazel eyes that catch the light like glass—flickering between gold and green. His silver-rimmed glasses sit low on his nose, and his lab coat is crisp, not a wrinkle in sight. He looks up, expression unreadable—until recognition flickers.

Ever hasn’t seen Zayne Li in years.

They still talk, sure—but never in person. Not since they all moved away and begin to get busy with their own things.

Her childhood friend. The boy who once scolded her for climbing too high in trees. Who always looked serious, always kept a distance—except with her. She remembers the way his eyes softened when she teased him. The way he’d sigh like she was dragging him into trouble he didn’t want—but always followed anyway.

And now? Now he’s here.

Her doctor. Assigned by the Bureau.

Of course.

Ever blinks. Then, slowly, a grin tugs at her lips.

“Well. If it isn’t Doctor Li,” she drawls, stepping inside. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you in a place like this.”

Zayne doesn’t flinch. His expression barely shifts, but she catches the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “I could say the same.” His eyes flick down, taking in her posture—the way she’s favoring her left side, just a bit.

“You were supposed to be on a mission.”

She shrugs, slipping her hands into her pockets. “Technically still am. Just made a little detour.”

He sighs. Classic Zayne. “Sit.”

She doesn’t move yet. “So you didn’t think to tell me you moved back to the city?”

He glances up again. “I was going to call you today.”

And just like that, it feels like no time has passed.

But Ever knows better. Time has passed. Too much.

She opens her mouth, maybe to poke at him, maybe to say something more—except the words never come.

Because the light shifts.

It’s subtle. Barely noticeable. But for a second, the fluorescent overhead catches his face differently. His hazel eyes lean green. Not just any green.

That green.

A color that slices clean through the years and hits something buried deep. A flash of memory. Not just of Zayne—but of pain. Of fear. Of being small and broken.

Suddenly, she’s not in the office anymore.

She’s back in that cold, sterile room. The scent of antiseptic in her lungs. The bite of metal beneath her skin. A monitor beeping steady and impersonal in the background.

She is small again.

A girl lost in a nightmare made of bright lights and quiet suffering.

A girl who once reached out for the only warmth she could find in a colorless world—a boy with hazel eyes that always, somehow, looked a little bit green.

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The color is the first thing she registers.

Green.

Thick, hazy, all-encompassing. It’s not just in the air—it is the air, a filter draped over everything, heavy and suffocating. For a second, her brain misfires, tries to twist it into something softer. Someone’s eyes. Someone safe. But this green isn't safety.

It's sterilization. It's containment. It's control.

It fills her lungs like smoke, dry and acidic, and coats her throat with something synthetic. Machines hum around her, slow and detached, like the world is moving through molasses. There's a weightlessness that should feel freeing, but doesn’t. Not when her limbs don’t respond. Not when the cold doesn’t come from the outside, but from somewhere deep beneath her skin.

She could move. She thinks she could. If she really wanted to. Press a palm to the glass, curl her fingers—prove she’s still here.

But she doesn’t.

Because maybe she isn’t.

She’s slipping. Not just from the present, but from herself. Downward, inward, back into a space made of metal and silence and memories she tried to forget.

Then—

The world tilts.

A flicker. A glowing screen in a dark room. A user interface, soft sci-fi blue, names scrolling, a scene frozen mid-dialogue. Her—a version of her—sitting at a desk, watching pixels with a strange kind of ache in her chest. His hazel eyes staring back from the screen, warm in a way nothing real ever felt.

And then—

Another flash.

Cold fingers around her wrist. The sharp sting of a needle. A voice, neutral, void of empathy.

"You're lucky. You survived."

But she wasn’t lucky. She just lasted longer.

Another.

A blanket too thin to protect. A girl too small to run. A boy at the door, silent, fists clenched. A red light screaming from the walls. Run.

Another.

A hand, gripping hers like a lifeline. A voice beneath falling debris.

"Keep moving. I’ll get you out."

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. No one could.

Another.

A boy kneeling, wrapping a bandage with too-steady hands. His expression unreadable, fingers trembling.

“Next time, dodge.”

Another.

Steel glinting in low light. A blade to her throat, a smirk just inches away.

“You’re not scared?”

She should be.

She isn’t.

And another.

Him—hazel eyes dimmed, back turned, walking away.

Don’t go.

She reaches, but the green drags her down—pulls her back into the dark.

Then—

The liquid drains.

Tubes retract.

Weight returns in a crash of sensation.

The softness beneath her should be grounding—a bed, maybe—but the memories don’t let go. They crawl up the back of her throat, tangle in her chest, make it hard to breathe.

She isn’t here. Not really.

And then—

Warmth.

Small. Trembling. Real.

A hand finds hers, tentative at first, then more certain. A whisper rides the edge of the silence.

“…Sister?”

The word shatters something.

She breathes. Shakily. Like it’s her first real inhale in years. The warmth of the hand—small but sure—holds her steady, stops her from falling further.

She blinks. Her lashes are heavy, crusted with whatever fluid had once surrounded her. The light overhead is too bright, too harsh. Her eyes adjust slowly.

And then she sees her.

Rose.

Perched at the edge of the bed, drawn in on herself. Her posture is closed off, like she hasn’t decided if she’s really allowed to be here.

Her silver hair clings to her cheeks in damp strands, and her red eyes—the unusual color reflects to Ever's own hair—don’t flicker with relief. Just quiet exhaustion. But behind them is something else. Something hollow.

Ever swallows hard. Her throat burns, scraped raw by more than just the tube that had been there.

“…You’re awake,” Rose murmurs, like she isn’t sure it’s true.

Ever tries to answer. She wants to say something sarcastic, something stupid. Something to make this feel normal. But all that comes out is air.

The memories won’t leave her. They cling like wet fabric. Every blink brings back a flash of something—static, green, pain. Familiar voices that shouldn’t still echo.

“Run.”

“Dodge.”

“Don’t be scared.”

The pulse she hears isn’t even her own.

But Rose is here. Real. Solid.

That should be enough.

“…How long?”

Her voice is a scrape across dry stone. Barely audible.

Rose’s fingers twitch, then tighten around hers, just enough to be felt.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I woke up first. They left us here.”

A beat.

“I didn’t know if you were going to wake up at all.”

That lands like a punch to the chest. Not because it’s cruel. But because it’s honest.

Before Ever can think of a response, before she can reach for that casual bravado she usually hides behind—

Click.

The sound of a door. Small. But it shatters the fragile stillness like glass.

Rose tenses, but doesn’t let go of her hand.

Footsteps approach. Quick. Hesitant.

Then the door opens fully.

A boy steps in.

At first, all Ever sees is motion—damp hair, uneven breaths, tension in his shoulders.

Then it clicks.

Caleb.

His deep indigo eyes dart from Rose to her, wide and searching. His purple hair is matted to his skin, still damp like he came from the same tank, the same nightmare. His clothes are the same sterile white. His hands twitch at his sides, unsure if they’re allowed to reach.

Rose breathes out. Not quite relief. But something close.

“…Caleb.”

The name is a thread, tugging something loose inside her.

Rose moves fast.

The bed shifts, and Ever's hand stretches outward as Rose pushes off and crosses the room in two strides. She doesn’t hesitate—just wraps both arms around him like she needs to prove he’s real.

Except—she doesn’t let go of Ever's hand.

Their fingers stay locked across the space between them. Even as Rose clings to him, she keeps that anchor.

Like she can’t bear to lose either of them.

Caleb stands there for a beat—frozen, startled—before wrapping an arm around her, tentative at first, then firmer.

“I was looking for you both,” he murmurs. “They wouldn’t tell me anything.”

His voice is hoarse. Ragged. He sounds like he hasn’t slept in days.

Ever watches them. Their joined hands. The way Rose trembles, but doesn’t break.

She knows him.

Not just from before.

From dreams. From flickers. From pieces.

She doesn’t know if that makes her feel better.

But for the first time since she woke up, she knows she isn’t alone.

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Notes

Yeahh... Not as fluffy but it's necessary! God, I start to sound like my friend..... Imma just ignore that.... For anyone that is interested for more, I'm putting this story in Ao3! :)

[emacrow]

He has offically lost his mind.

Warning of murder and talk of blood and Vivisection.

The Riddler, also known as Edward Nygma, drives in the stolen family car as fast as the speed limit could take him out of Amity Park.

His green riddler outfit was coated in blood that wasn't his, lightly glancing at Jazz, his distant niece in the passenger seat.

Her eyes were baggy and red as she sniffed, holding onto the three bundles in her arms.

A 2 year old toddler that was his nephew and two newborn(neverborn, uncle eddy, they neverborns.) Jack fenton sitting in the back between Sam and Tucker looking awkward as hell.

He had read the letter two days ago and visited his distant half-sister Maddie. He wasn't expecting his distant niece to be tied up in chair, some warp verison of the fear containment bubble, weakly crying and begging for them to let danny go.

He expected worse from his half-sister, but in that basement... it was like a living nightmare brought to life before his very eyes.

That was Danny on that table. His favorite little munckin of a deaged nephew with inverted coloring muffled screaming into a fenton mouth gag while Maddie digging into his chest with Jack tremblingly behind her, his large hand shakenly so much holding a jar with two babies in it, eyes glancing at Maddie and Danny with some sort of realization peaking in his glance.

Edward cautiously tips toe down the stairs as quietly as he can, holding his question mark staff as he listened on.

"M-Maddie, ph-Danny might be telling the truth. He is bleeding red now!"

"Oh, Jack, remember ghosts tend to mimic and possessed people around us. Phantom had been living right under our noses and using our sweet Danny like living costume, look how small he gotten afterall, Who knows how long he has the time to copy all Danny's personality to sabotage our weapons. Now be a sweetheart and hand me that bone mallet." The way his half-sister sounds so cold yet sweet made Edward sick to his stomach as he was inching closer, holding his staff at the right angle for a clean shot at her head.

"No. No, this is wrong. That Dann-o, that's our baby, Maddie! He has the exact scar on his left midsection from the fishing trip. Ghosts don't heal from scars when they are dead, Maddie!" Jack shook his head, taking a step or two back from Maddie. His face was becoming paler. Jack looked as though he was going to lose his lunch at any moment with horror in his eyes.

"That Thing Is Not danny anymore when it -" Maddie turned to yell at Jack was when Eddie struck. Hitting her hard in the head was a clean knockout.

"E-eddie?" Jack, look wide-eyed at Edward Nygma, who looks ready to swing at him but stopped, glancing at table.

"Sew Danny up now, or I swear to Meemaw Gretchen, I'll beat you within every inch of your life if he doesn't make it." Eddie growled as he hit Maddie one more time for good measure with the staff.

He thought she was clear from the insanity that was their mom, but apparently not.

He pushed back the flashback and kept focusing on driving. Those GIW creep tried to ambush him one more time, then he got a bloody cane to beat them with too.

Part 1 here <- part 3 -> here

[r-retro-retro]

[pxtitxrosx]

"Okay. I get it. Don't..." How could she tell him not to worry. There was as fat a chance that he'd ever be able to stop doing that as she was. Seemed they were a couple of peas that shared that pod, and truly, she loved him for it.

"That's all you gotta do, Ash. You're on no one's clock but your own." Coming over to press a little kiss to his temple, Charlie looked over at the call of her name, nodding her head as one of the guards waved at her that she was needed upstairs. "I'll come down later and we can have dinner together." It would be nice to eat outside of the penthouse.

Giving a gentle squeeze to his shoulder she turned and headed to join her escort back up to the penthouse.

Ash would've asked her to come back down to third then. But that would be asking her to join the peasants, no proper food, no hot water, no freedom. He wasn't that selfish to want her comforting presence back on the floor, it felt too lonely without the Roses. If Ruth had left to join the penthouse too, Ash wouldn't know what to do with himself anymore. What do you do when home no longer felt like home and no one but you was left? Ash instead stayed silent, a despondent smile in respond, as if a silent nudge to keep going, stick out through the discomfort up there, knowing very well that her brothers will take care of her. Because Ashton knew he could not.

Let them take it out on me instead, Ashton had been more than used to being a punching bag, if this was the only way to keep their people safe, so be it. They could kill him for all he cares. He nodded to her clear answer, though consciously pulling back seeing the way Charlie reacted, reminding himself that Charlie hadn't seen him at his worst, she hasn't seen him take the lights out of someone in cold blood. He wanted to hard to leave it all behind away from New York but it kept catching up to him. "They're not like Jer and JP," Ash murmured in a softer tone after catching himself, shaking his head at the description. No Jer and JP may be like them in many ways but there was one huge distinction that Charlie had to remember if she remembers nothing else, "they're not family." Jer and JP would never hurt a single hair on Charlie, they will.

Ash will always worry about Charlie, telling him not to was a moot point but as long as he got those across he felt that that was all he could do in his pitiful position right now. "Thank you for your help I.." Ashton paused once he smoothed out the last of his laundry, "..I'm trying." Ash felt more alone than ever, but fuck, he was trying not to let the rest of his mind win.

[great-great-grandpyramids]

[reality-detective]

FLASHBACK: 👇

The FBI and the DOJ were ordered by Barack Obama not to arrest Hillary Clinton for espionage in violation of — 18 U.S. Code § 793. Gathering, transmitting or losing of national defense information. In fact, Barack Obama effectively served as Hillary Clinton’s personal lawyer.

CIA John Ratcliffe: “Lisa Page confirmed to me under oath that the FBI was ordered by the Obama DOJ not to consider charging Hillary Clinton for gross negligence in the handling of classified information,"

John Ratcliffe: “Okay. So let me if I can, I know I'm testing your memory, but when you say advice you got from the Department, you're making it sound like it was the Department that told you: You're not going to charge gross negligence because we're the prosecutors and we're telling you we're not going to –

Ms. Page: ”That is Correct.” 🤔

[ourslutfactory]

Me switching moods to keep him on his toes 🩷

[lisleon]

A forte brisa do mar encontrava seu rosto conforme Elisa corria, seus cabelos se movimentando da mesma forma que o mar e ela só conseguia pensar em como gostava de momentos como aquele, em que se sentia viva. A água não estava fria e Lis já tinha ouvido falar sobre isso, sobre como o ar esfriava rápido mas não a água. E quando virou-se para trás e encontrou o rosto de Santiago já perto novamente, ela entendeu a sensação de permanecer morna independente de todo o resto. Ali, sob a luz da lua, tudo parecia mais bonito; os fios quase prateados de Santiago, o mar que parecia querer imitá-lo. “Isso,” o acompanhou na risada, se aproximando dele mesmo com a resistência das ondas em suas pernas. “Mas queria ver como você se comporta quando ganha algo também.” Ainda sorrindo, Elisa enlaçou seus braços no pescoço do loiro e por alguns segundos só o olhou. Existia algo ali, uma energia frenética que surgia toda vez que olhava para ele, a vontade inconsciente de sorrir, a curiosidade em toca-lo. A ponta dos dedos dela encontrou a nuca dele, seu nariz a pele de seu pescoço; ainda não tinha imaginado como era o cheiro dele, mas como era bom. Implicar com Santiago tinha sido bom, divertido, porém Lis começava a admitir que queria mais. Queria seus lábios no pescoço dele, em sua bochecha, em sua boca. “Kiss me,” ela sussurrou.

said you won’t forget my name (not today, not tomorrow) | saint elisa (flashback)

@saintdelroisse

Eram raras as ocasiões que sua família viajava de férias, então Elisa sempre aproveitava ao máximo quando elas aconteciam. Santa Helena era linda, realmente era, e a morena se sentia mal de estar dentro de quatro paredes e não apreciando toda a beleza natural daquela ilha; mas também tinha bebido o suficiente para estar alegre em qualquer situação e aquela era um casa de praia afinal, então não estava tão longe assim da natureza. “Beleza, quem vai ser a próxima dupla de perdedores?” Olhou ao redor com um sorriso convencido. Estar ganhando todas as últimas partidas de truco ajudava também.

[archerinventive]

Some swords for your Saturday.

I'm still sorting through so many photos from this years summer season. So, in the meantime, here are a few of my favorite sword themed pieces from the past.

A big welcome to all of those who have recently joined my Tumblr page. I'm delighted to have you here, and I'm excited to show you all the new shenanigans underway. :)

Wishing you all a splendid Saturday. 😊

4th photo down by Kindra Nicole.

[hotyanderedaddies]

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 0:

When Blake Fell in Love with You

Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

You heard the other students chant over and over that there was a fight, and judging by the "Ooohs!" and "Oh shit!", you could tell that someone was getting their butt kicked.

You didn't want to be associated with any of that stuff, so you did your best to steer clear of any drama.

You were only in fifth grade, but you were pretty wise in a certain retrospect in that you did not want to be involved in any sort if unnecessary drama that would add stress to your life. In fact, this was so prominent in your attitude that you were deemed to be a bit anti-social (shy was more apt).

However, since the crowd of chanting students was in the same direction that you had to take in order to get home, you were forced to walk towards the commotion despite your apprehension.

The closer you got, the more you could see the fight that was going on.

One guy had another pinned to the ground, and the one on top was wailing on the other one with both fists. The sounds of flesh against flesh banged out, and you cringed at the onslaught you witnessed.

"Teacher!" a random kid shouted out, pointing towards the school where one of the fourth grade teachers poked her head out to scream at the crowd to disperse.

Everyone scattered, leaving the one kid who'd been wailed on in the dust.

He stayed on the ground, coughing a little bit as he tried to catch his breath.

You didn't move from your spot, ignoring everyone else as they ran off, leaving just you and the apparent loser of the fight.

A part of you said that it wasn't your responsibility, that you should've just walked home and tried your best to pretend that you didn't see anything at all.

But your conscience told you otherwise.

Swallowing your nerves, you called out, "H-hey!"

The guy remained still on the ground.

You didn't have a phone yet (thanks Mom and Dad), so you couldn't call 911. Therefore, you rushed forward and up to the other guy, your eyes widening at what you saw.

You didn't recognize him. He must've been in a different grade, maybe older because he seemed really big and tall (even from his lying position). His cheek was bruised up and his right eye was swollen shut. He had a cut on his arm that was bleeding a little bit-- not too bad, but enough to where it might ruin his leather jacket.

"Are you okay?" you asked, immediately feeling stupid because he obviously wasn't.

"...yeah," the guy grunted, turning his head away from you, blushing a little bit.

You bit down on your lower lip, not knowing what you could say to help out the random dude who'd gotten his butt kicked. Therefore, you did the only thing that you could think of.

"Um," you mumbled, "um, I have a band-aid...?" You cringed a little, but still dug through your backpack for a band-aid to give him. Your mom made you carry a box with you to school since you were pretty clumsy and always seemed to manage to fall down and skin your knee, hence your box of Hello Kitty Band-Aids.

You pulled out a band-aid with Pompompurin and peeled off the back, carefully sticking it to the guy's cut arm. Out of instinct, you bent down and pressed your lips to it, giving it a little kiss like what your mom does to all of your ouchies.

You froze, having no idea why you'd done that.

"Uhh..." you mumbled. "I hope you feel better!"

Thinking quickly, you shot up to your feet and sprinted away as quickly as you could, scurrying in the direction of your house.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

As Blake watched you run off, he looked down at the band-aid on his arm that had some random cartoon character on it.

He snorted and was about to pull it off, but then froze.

His skin still tingled from where you'd kissed him and simply thinking about it made his heart flutter in his chest and his breath get all ragged.

He recognized you from school, recalling how you'd typically keep to yourself and how you were a Grade A nerd.

...and how cute you are.

That'd been it initially-- Blake had thought that you were sorta cute, not paying too much attention otherwise.

But as he watched you run off, he couldn't help but stare in wonder.

Why had you helped him?

Why did you care?

And, ultimately, why weren't you his yet?

"They'll be mine," Blake promised himself. "Sooner or later, I'll make them mine."

He smiled as looked down at the Band-Aid you'd given him and placed his hand over where you'd kissed him, smiling to himself.

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

From then on, Blake made it his mission to make sure that you were protected at all costs.

He heard someone talking shit about you or thinking about messing with you?

He kicked their ass.

He heard someone say something negative about you?

He kicked their ass.

Someone cut you in line during lunch?

He kicked their ass.

Someone was wanting to ask you out on a date?

He kicked their ass.

Just that simple act of kindness that you showed the school bully had him wrapped around your finger. You didn't know it, but he was one-hundred percent devoted to you.

He walked you to and from school everyday, making sure to keep a little bit of distance in between the two of you. He knew that you were shy and that you didn't want to be involved in any sort of drama.

Plus, Blake wasn't delusional. He knew that he had an extremely negative reputation surrounding him, and he didn't want to drag you down with him. Everyone looked at him with fear in their eyes, and if you were associated with him, then he'd inadvertently ruin whatever reputation you'd built up.

In his mind, you're an angel, and he didn't want to taint you.

Hence, he kept his distance and made sure to admire you from afar.

But still, if anyone were to ask, Blake would say that you're his. He loves you after all, more than anything in the world.

And he promised himself that eventually he'd confess to you... all he needed was something to push him to do so...

[ask-ranma-and-ryoga]

[mrsoulstice]

Evelyn "Champagne" King

Love Come Down-1982

Flashback Friday

[strayswolf]

Jason slowly falling into a flashback gave this issue so much life and a greater purpose. They’re once again acknowledging harm Jason suffered at the hands of the Joker, and how he continues to deal with the mental scars left behind, an aspect that isn’t addressed enough in comics and is so appreciated here.

Also, the artistic decision to have Dick’s word bubble, “He’s taken too much from this family. We can’t let him take any more.” inlaid over introspective Jason was perfection.

Batman: Wayne Family Adventures, Season Three, Ep. 119, We’re Not Gonna Take It