#a brief snippet

[snowlikeash]

The rooms were simple and sumptuous at once; everything was of the finest quality, the draped colors muted to browns and yellows and deep greens. High pile carpet allowed bare feet to sink into it as if into fresh loam. It was a comforting place with a comforting smell, incense clinging to the curtains. At this hour, moonlight drenched the room with white-blue light. Here was Ra's al Ghul's public study, where his finest pupils were allowed to approach him.

Bruce leaned against the door, feeling unstrung. He was too tired to mind his posture. All he remembered to do was lower his eyes.

"Ustadh," he said, voice crackling like his throat was raw. It was. He had been weeping.

From a sunken section of the floor, Ra's observed his guest. His eyes, a clear glass-green, were questioning at first, then softened.

"Mahzun," he said, sadly, leaning back in the divan he was sitting in. "Come to me."

Shoving himself off the doorframe, Bruce slunk forward like a wounded dog. He collapsed on his knees in front of Ra's, his forehead bowed deeply, almost touching Ra's knees.

A ringed hand rested on Bruce's head, then pushed through his hair, a soothing motion.

"Habibi," said Ra's, with a gentle voice. "I am sorry. I had to be sure."

Bruce flinched. It hurt to know this man, that he trusted, that he believed in, would inflict harm on him like this.

[cthulhusstepmom]

It’s not healthy, what they have. 

They’ve never talked it out, put a label on it. They’re more liable to fuck out their feelings than mention them plainly. The level of codependency and possessiveness clouding their air is likely enough to warrant a call to some authority somewhere. They beat the snot out of each other on the regular, usually on sparring mats; some times not. Half of their time is spent alone waiting for the other to return from a mission, only to then be sent out in his stead. Most of their relationship, if you can even call it that, is built on a series of drive by touching moments and a handful of quiet intimacies. They’ll never get married, will never have kids, won’t even consider retiring for each other. Won’t even say the goddamned words, the simple three word sentence that would quantify and give meaning to all their pain. Just a couple of hollow men trying to fill the voids within themselves in each other. Like sand in a sieve those precious moments flow through their fingers and vanish into the well of monotonous life. 

And it’s perfect. 

They say ‘I love you’ in a million different ways each day:

When Soap checks his gear before he leaves on a solo stint.

When Ghost sharpens the knives Johnny left laying out. 

Every bruise and crunch and violent act whispers the words on the silent air. 

Soap knows he is loved by the hot coffee that greets him every morning, by the way the shades are drawn to shield him from the morning sun, by the warm spot just barely cooling next to him in bed. He knows it by the relentless, ruthless, pressure Ghost puts on him to improve; to swing faster, climb higher, bounce back harder and more vicious. The satisfied light in his lover’s eyes tells him as he critiques his form, barks at him to run it again, stokes the fires of his ferocious competitive drive to new heights each and every day. He hears it in the choppy, short, breaths of Ghost as he fucks him, during those sacred few moments they scrape together in between it all. Can feel it in the desperate clutching hands that bring them closer than he’d thought previously possible. 

Ghost knows he is loved by the comfortable warm breaths of Soap against his shoulder in the night, asleep and vulnerable; trusting in the utmost. Can see it in the petty jabs and swift intercepts that meet anyone giving Ghost too much attention, in the glares that follow their backs until they leave. Knows it by the sheer persistence of a dumbass Scotsman who aims to get chummy with the image of death; blithely worming his way through years of hardened defenses and breathing life into something long dead and buried. He is told by the feral claws and teeth that carve their marks into him every time there’s an opportunity. 

It’s not healthy, not by a long shot, but it’s theirs.

[communist-hatsunemiku]

trump is fully losing his shit huh

[varpusvaras]

Friend, I am frothing at the mouth over your protective!Roy snippets. The way you had him go to tend to Jason's helmet, only to then piece together he was hit outside of true combat, by Batman, his father...ughhh. And the way he KNOWS every scratch on said helmet! That is love. God. Like, consider me obsessed.

I would read 100k words of this little jayroy world you've carved, if I could. I hope you continue to post about this particular version of them. 🥰

I will admit (this comes as news to probably pretty much no one who has read my stuff before lmao) I am a sucker for protective characters in relationships. Like that is the number one thing that gets me going. I will be writing it in. Roy and Jason both do display protectiveness and isn't that the good stuff. Roy especially is just such a perfect character to me in so many ways (just by himself, not just talking in ships). He is loving and soft and gentle and fierce and strong and emotional but stable at the same time (yes it makes sense if you look at him). I am a firm believer that Roy is the character who has all the rights to beat up shitty parents for free. He would be able to see that yes, Batman is someone who does a lot of good and isn't a bad person per se, but it's still not okay. It's not okay. One reason I like jayroy is that they just narratively complete each other as individuals in many ways, and I think Roy being someone who can actually see Jason and be so protective of him is a goldmine regarding them. Good stuff, good stuff indeed.

I would absolutely write that 100k for you in a heartbeat if I had just a little more time (hopefully things become a little less hectic after the New Years, I say, as my Master's Thesis is looming over my shoulder, reminding me that I need to write it too-), but I am going to continue giving smaller bits for ya'll in here because I am frankly just as obsessed. Seriously, I am in trouble.

[printzeizarra]

Cherry calls her observational skills "an artist's intuition," but when it comes to chemistry, it doesn't take a genius to blind her with science. Stan suspects she's leading him on...

[ambernotember]

snippet saturday

school concert au

“I swear, it’s even on his collar. I love animals with human names. Imagine making a vet appointment for Steve.”

Buck chuckled. “So if you had a pet you’d name them what, Alfred? Violetta?”

“Did I adopt an old butler?” Tommy took in Buck’s confused expression. “Batman? Alfred, his butler?”

“Oh, I don’t really watch a lot of superhero movies. Or well, movies in general.”

“Seriously?” If Buck was showing his class a photo of Tommy’s expression for a writing activity, he’d definitely file it under ‘baffled’.

“I’ve never been a really big movie person,” Buck shrugged.

“I should write you a list,” Tommy said, half to himself.

“Of movies?” Buck was amused. He’d watched a lot of Disney and Pixar with Chris when he was younger, and now with Jee, but he usually had too many things to catch up on when he was by himself, and would put on a podcast or an audiobook to listen to while he did laundry or cooked or did whatever other chores he’d forgotten about.

“Yeah. Like, top 52 you should know. One a week for a year.”

Buck laughed. “I pretty much only turn on the tv for the news or to play video games with Chris.”

“I’m definitely making you a list,” Tommy decided.

“I can add it to the list of things I definitely say I’ll watch and then never do.”

“I think I’d be disappointed if you ignored my hard work,” Tommy said. “I’ll have it to you by the end of the week. Would you find it easier to watch them if I made you write a report on them? Score out of ten and your reason why?”

The tone was teasing but Buck found himself thinking about it a little too hard.

Albert bounded back to the table, interrupting them. “Maddie and Karen want the wireless mics so they can get started.”

Tommy checked that they were both on and working before handing them over, while Buck pulled out his phone and texted Eddie to come back to the gym. He slid it back into his pocked and rubbed his hands on his jeans, trying to get the sudden excess sweat off of them.

Tommy seemed focused on the audio equipment, and either hadn’t noticed Buck’s odd silence or wasn’t acknowledging it.

tag list @chimneyz @morgangilloryy @swagmaster9k @geekwarrior107 @racerchix21 @fan-of-a-lot @desert--moonchild @bybobbysbeard

[loregoddess]

oh, I do love that the entirety of Nintedo's "I want to make up a language, an actual language a la Tolkien" people seem to exist in the Metroid department

[jessicas-pi]

Ezra tried not to smile as Sabine stumbled through the door. Her outfit was rumped and her hair was askew—no surprise, due to the writhing toddler in her arms.

“PUT ME DOWN, PUT ME DOWN, PUT ME DOWN, I DON’T WANNA GO TO BED, PUT ME DOWN, LET GOOOOOO—”

“Babysitting’s not treating you so good, is it?” he asked, raising his voice over Jacen’s furious screeches.

Instantly, Jacen stopped thrashing. Sabine loosened her grip in surprise, and the boy slipped right out of her arms and ran across the room, climbing up onto the couch and throwing his arms around Ezra.

“Okay, why does he behave for you and not me?” Sabine demanded, crossing her arms.

“It’s a gift.” He looked down at Jacen, who was smiling as happily as could be. “Jacen, why weren’t you being nice for Sabine?”

Jacen pouted at her. “Wasn’t gonna tell me a story.”

“No story? Sabine, you were gonna make him go to bed without a story?” He pretended to gasp in horror. “How could you?”

“It’s late!”

Ezra scooted to the side and patted the spot next to him on the couch. “We always tell stories.”

Reluctantly, she stomped over to sit beside him. “Okay, you tell him a story.”

“Don’t you have any stories?” Ezra wheedled. “I’ve already told him all mine.”

“Wanna hear your stories,” Jacen agreed.

Sabine huffed. She scowled. She scuffed her feet on the rug and slumped back sullenly on the couch.

“Fine,” she said, finally. “Okay, I’ve got a story.”

Jacen clapped his hands, and Ezra looked at her expectantly.

“This is the story of how I was almost murdered by my best buddy’s psychotic ex-dad-figure who stole him as a baby.” Sabine shot Ezra a side-glance and a wink, then turned to Jacen and went on seriously. “That’s a lot to take in, I know. But, don't worry, despite the kidnapping and family drama, this is actually a very fun story! And the truth is, it’s not even mine. This is Ezra’s story—and it starts with the moon.”

[aretarers]

i dontthink ive said it much yet outside of my own head but the fact that the old nightmare knight leitmotif IS genuinely used for the roaring knight like people figured it would after it appeared in the door/the chase makes me so unbelievably happy

[homoeroticgrappling]

Was not prepared to be jumpscared by my favourite My Chemical Romance song making a surprise appearance in a video on the Speedball stream

[definitelynotshouting]

dance au you say 👀👀👀 is it like Grian and Scar typically do different styles of dance but are for some reason partnered together or do they dance the same style and gotta choreograph a routine together but kinda buttheads with how they choreograph

Not quite, although thats a super cool idea!!! :D my au is about Grian asking Scar for dance lessons while preparing for an event he's been invited to-- he's expected to dance, and has never really applied himself to learn more than the very basics until now.

Scar, however, is an excellent dancer and offers to teach him, builds them an intricate gazebo to learn in, shows up to their first lesson in an immaculate new suit, and proceeds to unintentionally but enthusiastically seduce Grian-- who's had a crush for a long time, but hasn't yet gotten up the courage to do anything about it.

The penultimate scene goes a little something like this:

Grian asks Scar for one last practice session before the event. He doesn't even need to feign nervousness-- he's practically sweating bullets. But practicing isnt really his motivation here; in all honesty, he just wants to spend one more time in Scar's arms.

It's evening, golden and sticky with summer, and they're dancing as the sun slowly begins to set. Scar's complimenting, hyping him up, telling him he's a natural now, he'll do so great. He'll be rooting for him at the event the ENTIRE time. The jukebox's music fades, and the dance ends with a flourish, and Grian finds himself nose to nose with a Scar who is gazing at him like he's everything.

Then Scar seems to shake himself, disengages, and gently tells him he'll do great. Amazing, even. The envy of the dance floor. They both step back at the same time.

But the sun is hitting Scar's face just right, and he's gorgeous, and Grian just had him in his arms, and-- and-- and--

Grian impulsively darts forward and kisses the life out of him, fast and a little messy, with his heart beating right out of his chest. And then in true Grian fashion, he freaks out about his own impulsivity and flies away without addressing ANY of this bc he Cant Be Normal Ever, leaving poor Scar to stare off into the sunset with his hand pressed absently against his lips.

What follows after that is some very strained event participation on Grian's part, and Scar trying desperately to talk to him while Grian dodges him like his life depends on it. Eventually, Grian gets exhausted by it all and takes a moment to recoup by wandering outside for some fresh air.

This is where Scar finds him; a little cold, a bit shivery, feeling VERY sorry for himself, and finally Grian doesn't have the patience or energy to run any longer. I actually wrote out a tiny snippet of this scene:

"You know, you're, uh, awful slippery when you want to be." Scar's voice is deceptively casual. "You've gotta teach me that vanishing trick sometime." "Grow wings," Grian suggests wryly, then sobers, pulling Scar's jacket a little tighter around his shoulders. "Sorry. For— that. Yesterday. Yeah." "Sorry you did it? Or sorry it happened?" "Scar," Grian says, pained, "you just said the exact same thing twice." "Not really." Scar's voice is quiet, contemplative. He still isn't looking at Grian when he speaks. "'Cause, y'know, there's— I mean, dancing is pretty intimate, right? Plenty of opportunity for things to just... happen, without them meaning to. It's pretty common, really." He's giving Grian an out, he realizes. An escape hatch left wide open, a gaping crevice Grian can slip through without snagging his feathers. He could lie, right here and right now, and Scar is telling him that would be okay. Everything could go back to normal. Maybe its the atmosphere. Maybe it's the night air, a cool caress on his face, and the moon rising high and bright in the sky above them. A waxing growth that limns them both in pretty silver, catching on the edges of Scar's profile. He's beautiful, as always, and as much as Grian's stomach trembles, he can't tear his eyes from the sight of him. "More like I'm sorry for ruining a perfectly good friendship," Grian croaks at last. Scar blinks, lips parting briefly, throat bobbing as he swallows. His gaze lowers slowly, until his lashes paint dark lines against his cheeks. "Who says it got ruined?" he finally asks. "Scar, I kissed you," Grian says miserably, huddling further into himself. "Yeah, that was kinda hard not to notice." "Scar." "What? It's true! I was there, I saw it!" Oddly, there's the hint of a smile threading into Scar's voice; when he turns to pin Grian's gaze, it reflects on his lips, tilted up the tiniest fraction. In the moonlight, his eyes almost glow. "But sure, lets assume you've ruined a friendship. Which you have not, by the way— in case you were wondering." All the air leaves Grian's lungs at once. He's paralyzed, tipping over the knife's edge of something only Scar can see. "I didn't?" "Nah." Scar's voice is achingly warm now. "Not even close. Actually, my only question right now is: do you wanna do it again?"

Anyway they smooch again and get catcalled by their friends and Grian dips Scar bc Scar deserves to get dipped and its very sweet bc sometimes u rlly do just need some low stakes pining THEE END❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[musicismymoirail]

On the one hand, it probably needs more of a variety of tones and depths. It’s very samey-same atm.

On the other tho, I’m having a blast! ✨👾✨

[mournersandfunerals]

I'm absolutely floored by Maisie's ability to address the fact that women are not the problem in such a poetic way. In History of Man when she's talking about the consistency throughout history of women being blamed for shit with "Samson blamed Delilah, but given half the chance, I would have made him weaker, too." And obviously the classic example, "The men start wars, yet Troy hates Helen." And here she is with "Yoko never broke up that band."

We have Wendy, a song where she actively tried to rewrite a narrative, but at the end of the day, it still has the same result because it goes, "I'll lock the window and turn on the AC, you'll throw your rocks and you'll scream that you hate me."

Which, again, brings us back to "I've tried to rewrite it, but I can't." You can never change the fact that women are always going to be held responsible, even when it's not their fault.

And honestly, she might not be able to rewrite this narrative, but she can sure as shit make sure the stories are getting told.

[amedetoiles]

sang yan is the greenest flag to walk the earth like he’s a whole ass rainforest i’m dying

[shirozora-draws]

Love love love Din's facial wrappings

Did it take you a while to decide on a style, or did you go in knowing how you wanted the fabric to look?

Hi there! Happy to hear the design choice is going over well enough :)

I always had a vague idea of him covering his head and face to obscure himself while out questing in the greater galaxy, but the silhouette and flow of it came out of the fantasy ranger and the lone gunslinger tropes. Since the first season of the Mando Show had strong Old Western vibes, I went back to that same well for ideas.

Thanks for stopping by!

[whalehouse1]

1) It doesn’t matter to me one way or the other, 2) I’m not sure if it’s just because of the art style (which I am enjoying, it gives off medieval codex vibes), but I’m convinced Steve Trevor in Absolute Wonder Woman is a trans man.

I’m a cismale, so I can’t speak from personal experience, but ignoring the art, he seems to be happy about the height and I might just be reading into it, but he looks like something about it just made him happy. Or he just wants to be stepped on like a lot of her fans and I’m reading into it and seeing things not there.