#Not that I approve

[fieryncbles]

I'm adding Ben Glenroy from Only Murders In The Building to my muse list.

[fagcrisis]

[fithragaer]

I’m really enamored with the dynamic of two characters who work perfectly in tandem, like pacific rim drift compatible level, but they don’t like each other. It’s not even as strong an emotion as hate it’s just a very neutral-negative dislike, but they still act in perfect concert and their individual abilities are fully complementary

[javsarts]

Literally went from:

“Why would I ever trust the word of an Oathbreaker?”

“It’s unwise to trust a bloody Sharran”

To:

“Why hello, Lover, that sounded more debonaire in my head, I admit”

“I am yours, my Heart”

.

.

.

.

Aaaand I’m finally in Act 3 (fucking finally) with my Oathbreaker Paladin Durge run. I can only wish I’m talented enough of a writer to write a fic for these two I swear-

Edit:

Not sure if anyone cares but yeah, fic here lol

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55994872/chapters/14220

[bunneis]

21/05/23 edit: heres the full gifset

[deadrobinsclub-est1988]

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Afton kids got interesting coping mechanisms

[forgetful-nerd]

If these two ever met they’d probably annoy the shit out of each other in a sorta older “responsible” sibling vs. younger “wild card” sibling way.

[inkskinned]

the problem is that being single is seen as the consolidation prize, and not the natural neutral state of being-a-person. at the end of the movie or the book or the poetry, there is a person waiting for you at the altar, and they love you. if the play is a comedy, everyone gets married. the metaphor is about how you are not-whole. the metaphor is about how everyone is going to be happily-ever-after. the metaphor is that romantic love is the most important resource on the planet, not just all-love. all-love is not a thing, that is a disappointment. the treasure is not the friends we made along the way. the treasure is the girl you landed.

the metaphor is that you cannot be alone, that means you are broken. are you getting over someone? that is acceptable, you can be getting over someone, but not for long. you must be single because you would rather not be single. you must be single and looking to not-be-single. you must want to date, eventually.

friendship and community are never seen as being equal-to or even-better than romantic connection. that person is your one! you need to find them. you need to hunt through the sand particles until you can shift out some kind of gem. this is regardless to your own experience of the beach and the sun. you need to be somewhere with someone.

if you are taking this time alone to heal, that is so sad. everyone gives you this little pitying look. the understanding is that you are not actually happier than you were before you were single. it is seen as a sort of pity - oh, you are choosing yourself, making yourself the priority? - that isn't quite right. you must mean that you are making yourself ready for the right person. you are just laying the bed better this time. open up your heart. you'll find them, we promise!

what do you mean you're really-truly genuinely-very happy? you are probably misremembering what it was like to be in a relationship. and besides, once you meet your person, that time will look grey and bland and wasted. your person is the only way for you to see in color. so what if you have taken this time - for the first time in your entire life - to actually-for-real do the fucking work. you can be proud of yourself, sure. but the way we need to know that you got better is that you get a partner. you're healed enough for the next bad part!

people don't choose to be single, they just say they're choosing to be single - they actually mean "nobody wants to date me." it doesn't matter how many people you have gently rejected or how many times you've talked it over carefully in therapy. what matters is that you are single, and by all accounts - that means you are something worth our pity. your successes and life all seem pale in the sunlight. sure, you have done amazing things and finally found your way in life. what matters is that there wasn't a person in the room with you while you did it.

you want to tell them - that's the whole thing. i didn't know how to be alone in the room. i didn't know how to handle the silence. every moment was so sharp, and i kept choosing the wrong way to close the door. i have spent my entire life in the empty well, living in the ricochet of someone else's cruelty. for once i have built myself a ladder. for once everything i taste is all mine, every bite of sunshine and laughter. i have learned how to sleep out in the open with my memories. recently, they have started to purr.

your father rolls his eyes. listen. this isn't about you. i just want a grandchild in my future.

[kizzer55555]

The Vampire Aesthetic

Ok so Danny knows two billionaires personally and they really couldn’t be more different. Yet they had one thing in common. A vampire aesthetic. Sam is fully into goth. Spiderwebs, bats, the color black. She enjoys fangs and fake blood and the darkness of her soul. Meanwhile, Vlad is Vlad. If his name wasn’t enough, the dark clothing, pale skin, and flying around with a cape and fangs with coffins in his mansion really sells it.

Danny doesn’t know many rich people so he thinks this might be some kind of trend. (If Paulina is rich, her family likes the chupacabra) So he just thinks that all rich people have some kind of vampire thing going on.

Cue Danny somehow ending in the Wayne household. Maybe he was brought over as a friend of one of the bats, maybe rescued from a field trip/vacation gone wrong, maybe some other situation. But he is there in civilian form with civilian Waynes and Danny just takes a good long look around the inside of the mansion.

“So where’s the vampire aesthetic?

Everyone freezes.

Danny just starts looking around, checking behind paintings and feeling the walls for secret levers. Used to secret passages with Vlad and possibly Sam. The Fentons definitely had them when they were temporarily rich.

“Come on, I know you guys are hiding it.”

Cue the entire batfamily thinking that this is another Tim and that he is fully aware that these people are the batfamily. Danny hangs around the mansion more and the bats just start dropping their disguises and not even bothering to hide stuff around Danny because they assume he already knows. (Possibly even trying to recruit him to be a new bat) Meanwhile, Danny, who does not know these people are batman and his birds, just does not pick up on any of it.

He grew up in a health violation with a giant ballon observatory lab above his head and a portal to the afterlife in his basement. He is a half dead teenager who has tea with the god of time and his godfather is the other parent to his clone child. He’s used to death lazers being scattered across his home and mysterious stains on clothing.

People are weird! He doesn’t judge!

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i am delighted to inform you that wild bears seeking out and swinging on hammocks is in fact a fairly common occurrence!

[pastasilly]

the bowuigi tag rn

[hamartia-grander]

Obsessed with my group of friends who ALL approve of me telling a cop I'm gonna write her name in my Death Note

[koenigami]

not sure if you allow it, but how does wriothesly react when the reader uses their safe word during an intense session?

tags : fem!reader, smut, crying, use of safeword, aftercare, comfort, +18

It's hot in the room, the constant gurgling of the pipes reminding you that WRIOTHESLEY must have turned up the heating higher than usual. Then why is your body shivering, with goosebumps all over your skin? You can't see him, can't hear him because he has barely talked to you ever since he's returned from his office. Yet you feel his large, intimidating form loom over your body from behind. You can't speak, can barely breathe with his constricting hand around your throat that somehow seems to get tighter by every passing second.

He's immune to your whimpers, to the tears rolling down your cheeks. With each forceful thrust of his, you hear the bed creak and feel your knees get weaker, your body loosing strength until you're nothing but a limp toy for him. You want to get up, push him away, but the grip his other hand has on your wrists while holding them behind your back- He's just too strong.

That's when even the last ounce of pleasure leaves your body and you're left with nothing but dread and panic. "Red, p-please." you barely recognise your own voice, hoarse and frightened. "No more, please, red."

The pressure on your windpipes is gone instantly. You realise it, not by the oxygen that is easier entering your airways, no, because you still feel like you're suffocating. You realise it because his warmth is as well gone in an instant. W-Where did he go?

Rough hands are all over your body, yet they treat you with so much care, helping you turn and lie on your back, soothing down your thighs. One of them at last settles on your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it and wiping the tears away. "Y/n? Sweetheart, you with me?"

You sniffle and press the heels of your palms against your eyes, your chest shaking with more sobs that won't stop racking your body. "I'm sorry, 'm so sorry. I-I don't even know-"

"No, no, don't apologise. There's nothing to be sorry for." Your brain still feels foggy as you finally look over at Wriothesley who's crouching beside the bed, giving you enough space to breathe yet still having his hands all over you, not wanting to let you go. Nonetheless, you're able to notice the tension in his posture, in his facial expressions. "Just try to relax, alright? You're okay now." his hand shifts to your hair, fingers combing through the messy strands until they settle on your scalp, soothingly massaging you there. "You did good. It was too much, wasn't it?"

"Couldn't breathe." you whisper and realise that you feel so small in his presence, but not in an inferior way. Wriothesley may look all brutish and intimidating with a strength that could crush any allegedly impenetrable door in the fortress, but you're well aware that he would never use that strength against people that he cares about. "And, uhm-"

Piercing blue eyes watch as you nervously fiddle with the blanket that he has covered you with. But the little peck he gives you on your shoulder tells you that he wants to let you have a breather and take as much time as you need to sort your thoughts. "You seemed a-angry. You were so quiet and, I don't know. It was..."

"Scary?" he finishes for you, a gentle and reassuring smile plastered on his face that alleviates the pressure on your chest.

"Yeah."

Silence invades the bedroom for a short moment, making you forget that you're miles beneath the water surface, that the room which you share with him belongs to a prison, that a few moments prior your body has been in a fight-or-flight mode. The silence reminds you that you're safe and that all of this, all of him, is home. "Will you come back to bed? And hold me?"

Wriothesley's eyes soften at your request and the timid sound of your voice. "Of course, my love." His knees pop when he eventually gets up, pressing a fleeting kiss on your temple before he picks his pants up from the floor and puts them on. Despite the previous events, you can't help but feel a light heat creep up your neck when you get a sight of his naked buttocks.

"Careful with those wandering eyes. I might think you want to continue where we left off." Wriothesley chuckles when you pull the blanket over your head, a futile attempt to hide your embarrassed expression.

"Come here." the mattress dips beside you and you let him tug the blanket off your head. The warmth and smell of his make you sigh in contentment once he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "I'm the one who should apologise. I was not aware of how much I was hurting you."

The teasing smirk and brief leisurely attitude are gone, replaced by a seriousness that you usually only get to see when he's handling work related matters. He kisses your face again and again, further silent apologies that he hopes will lessen the pain inside your chest. And his. "I was a little irritated, yes, but that had nothing to do with you. Some inmates got their hands on a few bottles of wine." he explains. "Those drunkards started spewing lots of nonsense when I confronted them about it."

What did they say?" you inquire quietly, your eyes slowly but surely feeling heavier. With a palm against his naked chest, you notice the rapid heartbeat but decide to not give it any mind, since Wriothesley's tender strokes along your back are truly not making it easy for you to stay awake and think straight.

He stops his movements for a short moment, clenching and unclenching his fist as his eyes trail over the red, irritated skin of his knuckles.

"Your grace has turned quite soft." "Your little mouse must be doing a great job in bed, huh?" "Why don't you lend her to us? I'm sure we could teach her a thing or two?"

"Nothing you should worry your head about." his voice is merely a whisper as his lips move against your forehead before he buries his nose in your hair and resumes to trace more soothing shapes on your lower back.

a/n : thank you for your patience, dear anon! hope you'll see this since your request has been sitting for a while in my inbox-

[zzztlk]