#anYWAY ENJOY!!

[unlikelypandahologram]

Here's the second illustration by @destinysquared for my fic, "Lesson Learned"! This one's based on the scene in chapter three where Megatron and Optimus have a very nice time on Megazarak's throne. Totally innocent, I swear. ;P (And also, please appreciate that magnificent lighting. 💖)

[astrophysician]

ALT bisexual year of shadow

commission info

[kbsd]

you're gonna dance with me before this night is through

[justanotherjaydrawing]

I am so normal about these guys

[paintedplum7]

What a colorful cast of characters

[andyridgeley]

carmy berzatto + text post meme

[charlunday]

Outfit ideas, if they should help inspire. The dolls are AMAZING

-White tshirt and smock or apron stained with paint or flour/baking supplies

-cozy pajamas and sleepy eyes

-warm flannel for fall

Basically anything comfy and cozy and snuggly or work clothes

And yes he can [long bleep sound]

Here he is, with Katniss, to remind you people he has a WIFE. (And because I drew her a pretty outfit too)

Okay @millennium-queen we're getting slightly sluttier now...

Now THIS........ this I can get behind...

NOW THIS ‼️ THIS IS SLUTTY ‼️‼️ @bellairestrella

Anyway. You guys are monsters and I am feeding your sins. Hope you enjoyed today's episode of Objectify That Man.

[therdjspectrum]

sympathizer premiere pics review, plz? 🤩

(and if you want and have the time, any or all pics from the recent Esquire interview ... 🫶)

i’m sorry it’s taken a bit longer than usual for me to post after an event, but—

After a year of being bald for the sake of art, Bobfather is making up for it by officially stepping into his Slut Era™ with his sheer shirt and hooker heels. All eyes are on him as he shows how much of a slut he is for his wife, his co-stars, and most importantly, the cameras. Love that for him and for us. 😌🕺🏽 || April 9, 2024

Robert Downey Jr. at the premiere for The Sympathizer in Los Angeles

[bigdumbbambieyes]

ns!fw for the birthday boy!

Most of the guests have left by now, and the ones that remain will let themselves out shortly, so Steve glances over at his boyfriend who’s rinsing out his beer cans at the kitchen sink. He's still wearing his party hat and looks so sweet like that, with a soft smile on his face as he rinses another can, and Steve can’t help himself.

He goes over and wraps his arms around Billy from behind, presses the blond against the counter and presses a kiss to the back of his neck, softly asking, “Did you have fun?”

Billy leans back against him and nods, sets the can aside as he tilts his head over a little to allow Steve more room to kiss and claim, “Yeah, it was nice,” he hums, “Thanks for…y’know, setting it up.”

“Heather and Chrissy did most of the planning,” Steve replies, parting his lips to press open-mouth kisses against Billy’s skin, tasting the cologne there, “But it was fun to host.”

Billy nods in agreement, because while their apartment in Chicago is small, having friends new and old stuffed into it for an evening to celebrate his boyfriend had been just what Billy needed. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he saw his boyfriend so happy during his birthday party - he used to hate them, up until two years ago, when Steve had begun to celebrate them with him.

“Guess I’ll buy the girls some flowers tomorrow and drop them off at their place,” Billy murmurs as he turns his head, their eyes finally catching, and Steve sees the embers of arousal in those blue eyes. The kisses are working in his favour.

“That’s a nice idea,” Steve hums, sliding a hand down Billy’s stomach and lower to his jeans, giving Billy’s dick a squeeze through the rough denim and smiling as his boyfriend squirms a little with a huff.

“Jesus, Steve,” Billy chuckles softly, breathlessly, but he doesn’t tell Steve to stop and he looks like he doesn’t want him to, either.

“C’mon,” Steve says as he pulls away and grabs Billy’s hand, drags him down the hall towards their bedroom where he hooks his fingers into the top of Billy’s jeans at the doorway, brushing the back of his fingers against the trail of hair there.

Billy closes the door behind them and Steve pulls him in again, seeks out those full lips in the low lighting, and hums once their mouths meet for a deep kiss. He feels Billy’s arms around his waist, pulling them together, and he holds his boyfriend close as their tongues slide slow and hot, pulling soft moans from each other.

He puts his hands in Billy’s hair and feels the string of the party hat, which makes him laugh into the other's mouth. The blond pulls away with a curious expression, but his furrowed brow gives way to a matching grin when Steve jerks off the dumb party hat on top of his head.

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Billy chuckles as he reaches up to pull the green party hat off his head and tosses it aside.

“Mm, yet you were the one wearing it,” Steve smirks as he turns them and pushes Billy onto the bed, taking off his shirt as his boyfriend does the same, both revealing scarred skin and softened bodies.

Steve makes a playful little show of slowly taking off his jeans, moving his hips side to side with a dumb smile on his face, because it makes Billy laugh as he demands, “Get over here.”

Doing as he’s told, Steve pushes his jeans and underwear down before crawling onto their bed, settling between Billy’s legs happily when his boyfriend seeks out his mouth again, lips reconnecting as their hands wander and grip and hold. It’s tender and sweet, full of that usual passion they first felt all those years ago, and Steve’s chest feels so full of affection.

“So sweet for me. You’re my baby, hm?” He mumbles as he presses kisses down Billy’s jaw and neck, smiling as he feels Billy nod with a hummed ‘mhm’ of agreement. In the privacy of their bedroom, Billy lets Steve coddle him like this, lets himself be sweet and gentle, and Steve loves it.

He gives Billy another kiss before moving down his body, kissing scars and skin, biting down on hipbones and inner thighs just to hear the way Billy’s breath stutters. He feels fingers in his hair, petting and smoothing as he works Billy’s jeans open and down before fitting the slick head of Billy’s dick into his mouth with a sigh.

He’s messy with it, sucks and slurps as Billy moans and watches him, their gaze meeting in the dim light as Steve works his mouth up and down. It’s romantic, if a blowjob could be that, because Billy cups his cheek and Steve leans into it, nuzzling into the touch as he pulls off to whisper, “Lube?”

Billy grabs the bottle from the bedside table while Steve pulls his boyfriend’s jeans off the rest of the way, smirking as he says, “It’s not gay if we keep our socks on, right?”

He loves the way Billy still huffs a bit of laughter at the joke, even after so long of hearing it, but the blond nods with a knowing look as he hands Steve the bottle of lube, “Just don’t hold my hand and it won’t be gay.”

“Got it,” Steve grins as he slicks his fingers and shifts his way back up, feeling Billy grab his jaw to pull him into another kiss as Steve's fingers disappear between them.

And it’s always a sight to see when his strong, tough boyfriend softens every time he ghosts his fingers over Billy’s hole, how he goes sweet like a lamb as Steve plays with him there, until he’s sucking on his tongue and whispering politely for more.

Billy’s face goes pink by the time Steve slides the first finger inside, moaning quietly into Steve’s mouth once he feels the press of a second finger at his rim, stretching him slowly and purposefully.

But it’s the soft little sounds Billy pants into Steve’s neck when he’s stretched around three of his fingers, fitting so snug and perfect, curling inside him just enough to push moans deep from his chest, that Steve adores.

“Steve, stop—‘m gonna cum, stop,” Billy breathes out in a rush, clenching so tight around his fingers and his stomach is tensing so Steve pulls his fingers out and kisses at his boyfriend’s parted lips sweetly.

“Sorry, got a little carried away,” he murmurs, “You okay?”

Billy nods and wraps his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, wants to keep him close as he says quietly, “Yeah, ‘m okay. Just kiss me for a bit.”

And Steve does, slowly. He presses his weight down onto Billy and they kiss deeply, their racing hearts starting to slow as they remind themselves to do the same. There’s no need to rush, there’s nothing that needs their attention more than they do right now.

When Billy rocks his hips up, grinding his dick into Steve’s hip, he knows Billy wants more.

“You good, baby?” Steve murmurs as he kisses across Billy’s cheek and towards his ear, “You want me to fuck you now, hm?”

“Yeah, want it,” Billy whispers, his tone a touch desperate, “Please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, honey,” Steve promises softly, “You can have whatever you want.”

“Want you,” Billy says with a pout, Steve can hear it in his voice.

“You got me,” he hums, “Just a sec, okay?”

Billy nods, all sweet and quiet, and watches him as Steve sits up to grab the lube again. Sitting back and slicking himself up, Steve can’t help but to admire his boyfriend, smiles down at him when Billy gives him one first.

“You have the dumbest smile on your face right now,” Billy mumbles with a tiny smirk, his tone teasing and playful but his eyes are soft with affection.

And because Steve is lame, he says, “So do you,” while he slicks up his cock, strokes it a little too long for Billy’s liking because the blond smacks his thigh for it, impatient as always.

“Okay, okay,” Steve chuckles as he crawls over Billy again, feels the back of those strong thighs against his hips as he lines himself up and presses in, slowly, so he can watch Billy’s face the entire time.

The cute little furrow between his brow, the way his eyes go a little unfocused, how his hands find Steve’s arms and grab him there, steadying himself as he feels his boyfriend sink into him. Billy is perfect, warm and tight, and takes him so beautifully.

His hand finds Billy’s and interlaces their fingers, presses them to the bed as he moves inside his boyfriend lazily, slowly.

And Billy smirks under him, playfully mutters, “You made it gay.”

Steve huffs a soft laugh at that, hums, “My bad,” but he’s not sorry at all.

Not when Billy squeezes his hand in return and quietly begs, ‘harder’.

Maybe there’s something to be said about the way they make love, on Billy’s birthday, but Steve can’t find the words. He never can, not when he’s drowning in the emotions that come with being like this - being in love.

Instead, he fucks into Billy just how the blond wants, slow and then fast and slow again, pressing deep and grinding, flipping them over so Billy can set the pace - but Steve cums suddenly and way too fast, which should be embarrassing, but they’re well passed that now.

It happens and they make do. Steve pulls his boyfriend on top of him and they make out while he slips his fingers inside of Billy again, lets the blond pant into his mouth and plays with him until he cums with a curse.

And they’re insatiable tonight. They should sleep, should wind down and clean up and cuddle, but Billy flips him over and reaches for the lube instead.

Before long, Steve’s gripping the pillow under him and drooling onto it as Billy’s fingers stretch him open, too.

Time blurs, muscles ache, lips are swollen from suckling kisses. They take breaks and breathers, cuddling and touching idly, talking and laughing, making sure they’re comfortable before going again.

By the time the sun is coming up, they’re tangled together and still touching, dragging fingertips across skin and lips and Billy’s falling asleep, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as Steve watches him with a tired smile.

“It’s almost time to get up and have breakfast,” he teases quietly, because he knows neither of them work tomorrow so they can sleep in as late as they want, but he has something important to ask.

“Mm, shut up,” Billy mumbles in his half-asleep state, cuddling in closer to his boyfriend, still so sweet and all Steve's.

He can't help it. He says, “Happy birthday,” one last time with a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, smiling as he hears a tiny ‘thank you’ before Billy’s out, snoring into his neck. Which is fine, because Billy's had a long day and night, he deserves to rest.

The ring in the closet can wait for the morning, Steve supposes.

[happy-hermit]

LAST LIFE SCAR ANGST PART TWO BABY :D

Thank you everyone for your enthusiasm with this fic akdkjdh it really kept me going. ( @stiffyck this is still for you)( @hopepetal here’s the tag u asked for I love your writing by the way I’m so happy you like this fic alskjdjd)

Part One

———

A few days pass where nothing and everything happens in equal measurements. The returned hermits work on settling back into normal — well, relatively normal — life, and they tend to only see each other in passing. They get caught up in old and new projects, filled with an urgency that came from being away for so long.

Scar himself spends most of his time gathering items. It’s mindless, repetitive work. Time consuming. Calming, almost. It’s boring enough that he doesn’t think anyone will bother to bother him. (He ignores the way his chest pangs at the thought. It doesn’t matter. It can’t.)

Jellie follows him around most of the time, even if he can’t always see her. She’s a comforting presence, and he knows that she’s only there because she wants to be. He doesn’t have to write up a contract to convince her to stay. She’s there for him. It’s just… nice, is all. To know that.

Scar wanders around with shulker boxes full of wood and leaves and sand and he pretends that he’s not avoiding everyone. It’s not like he doesn’t see them at all, and in fact he always grins and waves when he happens to run into someone. He just — doesn’t stay long. Doesn’t want to overstay a welcome he isn’t sure he has.

Daytime is easier. He can be busy during the day. He can forget. At night, though, he lays in bed and he hurts. His chest aches, and he’s cold, and he’s alone, always. Jellie is there, sure, and she counts, of course, but—

Well. Jellie can’t hug him. She can’t talk to him. She doesn’t know why he’s sad.

More than once, he finds himself outside of a Boatem member’s base in the dead of night, hand poised to knock and heart tugging him forward. He can’t do it, though. He doesn’t really know why — doesn’t want to think about it for too long. He’s pretty sure his mind would lead him back to an isolated mountain with a single bed set haphazardly in a corner. Thinks he would only be reminded of the way people had only ever visited if they’d wanted something from him.

He never knocks, those nights. He instead demolishes frankly absurd amounts of land for resources he doesn’t yet have plans for. He doesn’t sleep at night. It’s fine.

He manages to believe that for two weeks before it all falls apart.

———

The nights have been getting colder, since they all got back. Maybe it’s the season changing, or maybe it’s whatever has started happening with the moon; either way, Scar is thankful that he’s wearing a jacket. The fact that he’s soaked through to the bone is a little less ideal.

It’s a well known side effect of glow squid hunting, though, so he can’t really blame it on anyone but himself. It certainly ensured that he wouldn’t be falling asleep on his feet anytime soon. Of which there was a very real danger, if the cotton stuffed into his head and the lead weighing down his eyelids is any indication. The glow ink splattered on his hands and sleeves is starting to look a little blurry, and he instead focuses on just making it back to the Swaggon without keeling over.

The universe has it out for him, though, so when the first phantom crashes talons-first into his back, all he can do is fall.

He hits the ground with a strangled yelp, his sack of hard-earned glow squid ink flying out of his hand and splattering across the grass. It’s pretty. And heartbreaking. He supposes he hadn’t really needed it for anything…

The phantoms screech angrily overhead, and his back throbs and he scrambles to roll over onto it anyway, because he can’t stand up just yet and he at least wants to be able to see what’s coming—

He lurches to the right as another phantom dives towards him, and the talons only connect with his upper arm as opposed to his chest. He’ll call that one a win.

“Oh geez— Ow, come on, you can’t kick a man when he’s down!” Scar scrambles backwards across the grass, voice high and eyes wide as he resorts to attempting to reason with things that don’t understand him.

There are three of them circling him, and he scrambles to his feet just in time to catch a set of razor-sharp teeth in his shoulder. He yells and swats at it blindly, somehow managing to hit its eyes and smear glow ink across its wildly flapping wing. The phantom detaches itself from him, and he doesn’t even have time to be relieved before another is diving towards him.

He runs.

His shoulder hurts and his arm hurts and his back hurts and he’s cold and wet and no one has touched him gently in months, and he runs.

He doesn’t mean to go to Grian’s house. He had wanted to go home. (Maybe it’s telling, that he’d ended up here instead.)

A phantom bites at his leg as he reaches the alleyway, fake stars shining above him and horrifying undead creatures punishing him for his insomnia close behind him. Pain ricochets up his calf and down his ankle and he frantically tries to shake it loose, crashing to the ground again and crying out when the impact aggravates his other wounds. He knows without looking that his health is getting low. Dangerously low. And he hates respawning, he doesn’t want to, and maybe it won’t even work, maybe he’s used up his last life and he’s going to die alone just like he lived alone, and all he’ll be is a ghost haunting a world that barely notices his absence.

(That’s maybe too dramatic, but he’s dying and he’s tired and every night he holds his own hand and pretends he’s not alone. He feels entitled to a breakdown.)

He curls up against the ground with his eyes shut tight, resigned to the fact that he’ll have to get up and pick up his scattered items in a few minutes, resigned to the body aches that will follow him around for the next few days, resigned to the jokes that will pop up in chat after his death message goes out.

All he can hear is his own heartbeat in his ears, phantoms screeching and injuries stinging in a way that feels distant. Any second now. Any moment.

A hand lands on his shoulder, distinctly and painfully human, and he gasps, eyes flying open as he scrambles into a sitting position. His leg throbs angrily and his arm sends shocks of pain throughout his entire body and Scar tries his best to stay quiet — no one can know he’s hurt, they’ll kill him, they’ll make him give up a life — but a high-pitched sound of pain escapes his throat anyway. The blurry shape of a person kneeling in front of him freezes.

“—an you hear me? Scar?” The voice sounds like it’s coming from underwater, but it’s familiar. It feels like safe and danger at the same time. It sounds worried. “You’re hurt, please—“

“‘m fine,” Scar manages to get out, strained and quiet and mostly on autopilot.

“Wha— Scar, you are not fine, you absolute…”

The voice trails off into grumbling and Scar blinks slowly, looking down at himself. He’s covered in glow ink and his own blood and torn clothes. The clothes don’t look like the right color. He’s pretty sure they’re supposed to be purple.

“Wrong…” Scar mumbles, poking at his clothes. It seems important.

“Maybe because you’re bleeding all over it, Scar, just—“ The figure huffs, just a blob of red and tan, and something is moving behind him. Scar squints. The person seems angry. His weak heart rate picks up.

“D’ you… want a life?” Scar asks, confused and hurt. He can’t think. “I won’t… not for free. Let’s… A deal?”

The blurry person makes some sort of noise that makes Scar think he said something wrong. It sounds like it was punched out of them. Something’s wrong, he said something wrong. Scar’s eyelids are starting to droop, but he forces them open with a whine. The person lurches forward a bit, like they’re trying to catch him, but he’s not falling. Is he?

“D… Don’t go,” Scar pleads, mind scrambling to put together a sales pitch on why they should stay. “I can… I have— if you…”

His vision goes darker around the edges, as his own voice starts to echo in his head. The figure is saying something again, sounding frantic, scared. He wonders why. He hadn’t meant to be scary. He doesn’t think he’s in a condition to even try to be.

The last thing he sees before the darkness takes hold is a hand reaching out.

———

The first thing he’s aware of, when he wakes up, is not pain. It’s the gentle touch of a hand on his arm, lifting it and wrapping something around it. It still stings, but less so; most likely he’d been given a health potion. He feels warm. Sleepy. He opens his eyes.

The last thing he remembers is phantoms chasing him into Grian’s alley, and then someone finding him. Now with a slightly clearer head, he can only assume it had been Grian himself.

Slowly, he turns his head against the pillow he’s resting on, and he blinks sluggishly at the person currently bandaging his arm. It is Grian, with lines of worry in his face and his wings folded right against his back in that way that meant he was scared. Scar’s brow furrowed.

“…G?” His voice is hoarse, quiet, but Grian’s head still snaps up as if he’d shouted. “What’s wrong?”

Grian’s wings fluff up a little, something like angry disbelief swirling in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Grian repeats, half-hysterical. He drops the roll of bandages onto the bed and gestures wildly at Scar’s body. “You keel over in my alley dying of blood loss and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“Well, you do seem to be taking it harder than I am,” Scar jokes half-heartedly, attempting to sit up. Grian immediately pushes him back down, and Scar is too shocked to protest.

“Nope, you don’t get to deflect,” Grian says, and somehow it’s as gentle as it is stern. “I know what phantoms mean, Scar, and — and you didn’t even know who I was when I found you. So— so get talking. I know you know how.”

Nerves flare in his stomach, and he breaks eye contact to stare at the wall, inspecting all the random knick knacks on the shelves. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to explain what he’s been feeling since the games, especially since everyone else seems to have moved on already. It feels silly, suddenly, for his biggest problem to be that he’s lonely. That he doesn’t think anyone wants him around.

“Scar,” Grian says, and it’s softer now. “I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

There’s a lump in his throat and a burning in his eyes, and for just a moment Scar pretends that his heartbreak is anger. He sits up, ignoring Grian’s protesting, and he points an accusing finger at the avian.

“Now you want to stay?” Scar says, powering through even when his voice cracks. “Because last I checked, all— all you wanted to do was leave.”

“Scar, what—“

“No, you wanted me to talk! I’m talking!” Scar’s chest hurts, and his hands are cold, and something in him has been breaking for a very long time. “You— you couldn’t wait to tell me that any alliance from the last games were over. And then when I— When I thought I had Mumbo you came and took him away, too.” Scar cradles his shaking hands close to his stomach and looks away, anger slowly draining. “And then Joel— and then I had no one. And no one wanted to— I tried, Grian, but no one wanted to—“

He closes his eyes tightly, trying to stop the inevitable. “No one wanted to stay,” he finishes quietly. “I… I don’t know what I did. I don’t know why no one…”

Scar trails off, laughing a little and rubbing at his eyes, trying to stop the tears before they fall on Grian’s blanket. “I’m sorry. I don’t— I’m just tired.”

“Scar,” Grian says softly, and something about his voice is strange. “Please look at me.”

Scar looks. Grian has asked him, and he looks.

Grian is looking back at him — a small, sad smile on his face — and he’s crying. Scar blinks in surprise, staring, and Grian laughs quietly, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. Scar doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

“Grian?” Scar says uncertainly.

“Scar,” Grian says, and he sounds both intensely fond and profoundly guilty. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Scar’s heart skips a beat in his chest, and he swallows hard. Grian keeps going.

“And I’m so sorry,” Grian says, voice cracking. He reaches out a hand and grabs Scar’s, squeezing it tightly. Scar’s breath hitches, his fingers twitching. The touch feels foreign. It almost hurts. He never wants to let go. Grian tugs on his hand, gently, and Scar looks back up at him. Grian looks heartbroken, but focused. “I didn’t mean to leave you alone,” he says.

“Then why did you?” Scar blurts, unable to help it. He feels a little bit pathetic. He can’t care anymore. “Why did everyone—“

“I don’t know,” Grian says, sad and frustrated and desperate. “I know why I did, I— We didn’t end well the first time. Scar, I couldn’t— I couldn’t kill you again. I looked at you and all I could see was…”

(Bloody knuckles. Sandy clothes. Only one gets to win.)

“I know,” Scar says, quietly, both an apology and forgiveness. And then, softer, “I was alone.” His shoulders curl forwards a little. “Everyone had someone and I was…”

Grian puts his other hand on Scar’s uninjured shoulder, and Scar meets his gaze. The avian’s eyes are full of fire, intense determination mingling with stubborn care.

“Never again,” Grian says, like he’s stating a fact of the universe. Like he’s challenging some malevolent god. Then he softens. “You’re not alone, Scar. Not anymore. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Scar opens his mouth to say something eloquent and thankful and graceful. Instead, he bursts into tears.

Grian pulls him into a hug by the hand he’s still holding, wings coming up to surround them, and for the first time in a long time Scar feels warm. The ache in his chest is fading. His hands aren’t cold. Grian is breathing shakily next to his ear, and he’s being so very careful as to avoid Scar’s injuries, and he’s hugging him.

Scar tucks his face into Grian’s shoulder and cries.

———

In the morning, Pearl busts down the door with soup and a vendetta against apparently unwelcomed emotions.

(“I heard someone was sad. I’m here to beat it up.” She’s grinning, and Scar can’t help but laugh.)

Impulse arrives a few minutes later and drops Jellie into his lap, smiling softly.

(“I think this one missed you somehow more than we did!” Jellie curls up by his injured leg, and if Scar tears up, no one mentions it.)

Mumbo bursts in last, the salvaged remains of the glow squid ink he’d collected gathered into a little bottle.

(“I tried to get you the fresh stuff, but there wasn’t really a way for them to— to ethically sacrifice themselves. Sorry, mate.” Mumbo is covered in glowing ink, looking genuinely apologetic, and Scar laughs until his ribs hurt.)

And he is not alone.

[fortheloveofaminorcharacter]

Stephen Baldwin as Michael McManus in The Usual Suspects

[andorerso]

an incomplete list of runakvaed edits and manips

since I know we all miss runakvaed’s gorgeous edits, and if you’re new around here you might not have seen some of them, I figured I’d put together a list of iconic manips/edits that I could find to share the love <3 I tried my best but I’m sure it’s not a complete list, so feel free to reblog with more if you have the links!

Doctor AU

Mummy AU

Teen rebels AU

Modern teen AU

Underwear model AU

Witch AU

1920s Halloween AU

Figure Skating AU

Pacific Rim AU

Inception AU

Regency AU

Historical AU

another historical AU

more historical AU

World War II AU

Pirate AU

Selkie AU

Merfolk AU

Burning Man AU

Casanova AU

Wizarding World AU

Young Victoria AU

I might know my heart

The Words Would Only Rhyme

Solo Quiero Caminar AU

family dinner

happy beach times

kissing

more kissing

even more kissing

still kissing

cheek kiss

almost kiss

cuddling

more cuddling

yet more cuddling

a lot of cuddling

on the couch

in the shower

in the bathtub

sexy times

some cuteness

soft

Cass needs some sleep

[hailsatanacab]

Wip Wednesday babeeyy

eyy I've finally remembered that wip wednesday exists!! here's some proof that i'm working on something, and that something is the follower milestone gift i said i was going to do and i promise i'm doing it! i'm doing it it's happening i promise! so here's a little taster!!!! and here's Part One if you want a refresher!

And then the kid just vanishes.

In the blink of an eye, in the time it takes for him to look down, screw his face up because this is all confusing as fuck, and look back up, he’s just gone. There’s nowhere to hide, there’s nowhere to go, Jason can see everywhere around him—but he can’t see Danny.

“Well… shit."

“What, what happened?” Dickybird hisses in his ear, the unsaid, exasperated “now” very clear in his voice. 

As much as he loathes to admit it, Jason is feeling very much the same way right now. What was meant to be a simple case of “investigate the potential child abuse and put an end to it” has instead become something… less simple. When is it ever simple in his life?

Still. If working with supers, metas, vigilantes, whatever, has taught Jason anything, it’s that just because you can’t see someone doesn’t mean they’re not there.

“Hey, kid… Danny. Listen, I’m not here to hurt you and if you’re still here, if you can still hear me, then, I don’t know, do you want to get a bite to eat or something? I just want to talk. I just want to figure out what’s happening.”

Jason doesn’t hold his breath. 

Okay, no, that’s a lie. Jason holds his breath, but he swears he’s holding it so he can more accurately hear if Danny is still around. That’s all it is, he’s not attached to this kid already. He’s not.

When no answer comes—not even a whisper of a breath or the scuff of a sneaker on the pavement—he suppresses a frustrated growl and opts instead to breathe deeply and pinch the bridge of his nose.

“So…” Tim begins, drawing out the word.

The urge to growl—hell, the urge to pull out his comms and smash them on the floor—grows.

“The kid’s a meta, then. Potential powers including but not limited to: invisibility or teleportation. You think he’s still there?” There’s no reason for the kid to still be around, not at all. If it was Jason, he’d have scattered as soon as he realised the stranger impersonating his dad wasn’t the guy he thought was impersonating his dad, and honestly, wasn’t that extra fucked up? That someone impersonates people in this town often enough that it’s not a surprise? The way Danny spoke about him… What was his name?

Amorpho. Amorphous. Without shape. 

A shapeshifter?

Whatever. It’s a mystery for another time, because there’s still a more pressing mystery in front of him.

Or,. rather, not in front of him.

Yes, there’s no reason for Danny to still be here, but…

Jason sighs. 

“I’m going to Bat—Nasty Burger. Really? Is that the best burger joint here? Nasty Burger? Whatever, I’m going to get some fucking fries.”

Jason feels fucking stupid talking the air like this. He must look fucking stupid, too, but the thing is… There’s a prickling on the back of his neck, a rolling taste of green on his tongue when he glances through his peripheral, the vague weight of an unseen eyes on him. 

Call it wishful thinking, call it a hunch, call it something else, but Danny’s still here.

“There’ll be a burger waiting for you, too, if you want it. My treat.” Jason turns in a full circle, examining everything in his surroundings. Nothing seems out of place, nothing screams wrong to him. “I just want to talk.”

He waits for a full minute with no success, which makes Jason feel even more stupid, before clicking his tongue and making his way to the, hopefully ironically named, Nasty Burger.

[justanotherjaydrawing]

ehehehe ahh I have been watching playthroughs of ace attorney lately and I realised I have never drawn these two before!! Idk why Apollo looks so gremlin here but whatever lol

[leviiackrman]

"we've worn masks for so long, we've forgotten who we are beneath them..."

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[tinyliltina]

Tav crossed the main plaza of the Last Light Inn. The air, once rich with fear and sorrow, now sang with the promise of new hope and homecoming. Homecoming came with tears and smiles, and the sounds of embraces and music. The half-elf smiled and took a moment to take in the blissful respite. It had been some time since they’d seen a smile in the shadow-cursed lands.

They felt something brush their hand, warm and familiar. They turned and locked gaze with the amber-eyed Karlach. The flames flickering through her veins grew a little brighter as Tav pulled her hand into theirs, lifted it, and kissed the back.

“You did good, darling,” Karlach beamed.

“We did good,” Tav countered, “I won’t take all the glory.” They turned to the encampment and sighs. “I’m just relieved we could rescue those we could…”

Karlach’s hand tightened around Tav’s. A tight grip took their throat. Among the cheers and joy, there was a lingering somber. The forces at Moonlight had been more brash than anticipated. Not all had made it back.

A/n: Read more below! This is part 1 of a short series I might share, or might keep to myself depending how well it’s received. Lots of sappiness ahead, and mild spoilers for BG3 Act 2, nothing major though. Enjoy!

Karlach nudged them, “Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Did what we could, yeah? Now we just gotta make sure we hit those pricks even harder. For Cal.”

Tav nodded slowly, and offered her a smile. It felt weak, and Karlach’s expression wavered. She leaned in and brushed her forehead against Tav’s, always mindful of her horns so as to not leave a bruise. Tav leaned into the devil and sighed. For now, there was joy. Waning, but it was there.

“Hang in there, soldier,” Karlach whispered. Tav smiled, squeezed her hand. After a moment, the pair leaned back. Karlach announced she’d be having a few drinks, and Tav promised to join later. For now, the had a favor to cash in. They crossed the plaza, making a beeline for the mini-forge, one hand grazing their pocket. Still there.

“Dammon?” Tav called as they stepped into the half-barn. As usual, the pale tiefling was busied over his anvil, hammering what seemed to be a bronze bar. Tav stepped in as he turned.

“Ah, Tav. Good to see you.” Dammon smiled. He turned to his tools and placed them down, brushing his hands on his ashen clothes. “How can I help you?”

Tav shuffled on their feet. The small weight in their pocket felt incredibly heavy now. They cleared their throat. “I, ah…I have a request.”

“For you?” Dammon put his arms out. “My tools are at your disposal.” He smiled and crossed his arms, nodding to them. “Do you need me to upgrade your maul? You’ve been carrying that for some time now; it’s about due for a tune-up.”

Shaking their head, they thrust their hand out, revealing a scrap of infernal iron. Dammon’s brows raised. He took it quizzically. “You know…I can’t upgrade her heart any more, Tav. I won’t to, but-“

“No that’s…that’s not it.”

Dammon’s brow furrowed. “It’s…not?”

“No. I, you…I know…” their chest fluttered as the reality came rushing towards them. “I know. But…I want…er, I’d like you…um…these.” Their other hand jutted from their pocket, and Dammon stepped back at the sudden movement. Tav averted their eyes, scanning the plaza. “Don’t…don’t tell anyone. I, uh…I want to keep it…quiet.”

Dammon accepted the scrap with a quiet ‘oh?’. He unfolded the crumbled and scribble-ridden parchment, eyes flickering over Tav’s haphazard blueprint. It took a moment before a wide grin overtook his features. “Oh. I see.” His gaze brightened. “Tav, I’d be honored. When will you need them by?”

Relief flooded them, a warm relaxation to the rampant anxiety they’d been clutching for weeks. “Oh, there’s no rush. I…there’s a lot of planning to be done, and I want to get everyone their roles before we…well, before I…” Their face reddened. “Gods, I’m…I’m sorry, I’m just…”

Tav felt a hand on their shoulder. They looked up, meeting Dammon’s gaze.

“She’s going to love it.” He said surely. “Leave this to me, prepare all you need. Maybe have a drink or two while you do,” he chuckled. “You’re red as a dragon’s fire.” The blacksmith brought the parchment over to his desk, waving Tav off. “Come to me when you’re ready. I’ll try to have these done soon as I can.”

They nodded, quickly making themself scarce before anyone caught on. Thankfully, none were any the wiser, too preoccupied by the most recent heroic events. Tav joined Karlach at the bar and drank until their anxieties sank into a mug of ale and bubbles of laughter. For the first time in a long time, they were excited for the future.

—

The next part of their plan brought Tav to Gale’s tent. As usual, the human had his nose deep in a book, mumbling nonsensically to himself as he recited a spell to memorize. It wasn’t until Tav tapped his shoulder he looked up, blinking before beaming.

“Ah! Hello, Tav!” The wizard set his book aside, “I’m happy to see you so chipper this morning! From the looks of it, you had quite the night last night.”

Tav blinked. Perhaps they’d had more fun than they realized…but they smiled. “Good morning. Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Gale nodded, eagerly gesturing for them to take a seat. “Of course, yes! I was hoping you’d drop by today, I had some questions regarding the trajectory of our adventuring, if we’d were planning to rest and recuperate or if you’d wanted to storm Moonrise as soon as possible. Personally, I-“

“Gale,” Tav lowered their voice, ”I need a favor.”

He fell silent, then nodded, earnest. “Of-of course, I’m sorry, what did you need?”

“I…well, it’s…” their bravado faded almost instantly. The anxieties were flooding back, gnawing knots into their gut. Tav shifted. “It’s…easier if I show you.” They reached and pulled out the second copy of the blueprint they’d made, passing it to Gale.

He took it, frowned, but after a moment looked up with widened eyes.

“Are these-?”

“Yes,” Tav smiled.

“And you’re?!” He didn’t need to ask who it was for. His excitement was nearly electric, and he leaned forward, grin returned.

They nodded. “But I need you to keep it quiet. Please.

His brows rose. “A secret? Oh, I’m very good at those. I was a quiet lad in my classes, you know. One of the most-“

“Gale. I also need you to officiate.”

Gale froze. His eyes widened all the more. He looked back down to the paper, then to Tav. “Me?”

Tav smiled. “I can’t think of anyone more well-spoken to do it.” They took his hand, folding it in theirs. “But you have to keep it quiet.”

He nodded, his hand reaching to pat theirs. His mouth opened a moment, then closed, returning to his beaming smile. “Of course. Just tell me when you need me.”

Tav wrapped the wizard in a hug. Excitement bubbled in their blood, escaping in a quiet laugh as they twirled around. In doing so; they twirled Gale, until they heard the small man wheeze, and quickly put him down. Right, focus. With a smile, they were off to the next part of their plan.

—

Astarion and Shadowheart were not difficult to assemble. Nothing better to entice the pair than a good juicy story, and very little was juicer than plans for a wedding.

“So…you want us to decorate?” Astarion tilted his head. “I can hardly blame you. I do have impeccable taste~.” His hand swept back, gesturing to his ornately-decorated tent. Tav smiled.

Shadowheart had been staring at the parchment for a few moments, her eyes distant. She looked to Tav. for a moment, she was quiet, then passed them the paper.

“I’ll help, gladly.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart. I know it’s sudden-“

“Sudden? Darling, you do realize you’re absolutely smitten, don’t you?” Astarion smirked. “She has you wrapped around her flaming fingers…I’m more surprised it took you this long to admit it.”

Tav’s cheeks reddened. Shadowheart, who’d been quietly shifting through her things, passed Astarion a small bag. One jostle was all it took to confirm-it was gold.

“Here, you were right,” Shadowheart scowled at the pale elf.

“Thank you~,” he crooned, and snickered at Tav’s quizzical expression. “Oh please, don’t tell me you honestly thought we didn’t know.”

“It is fairly obvious,” Shadowheart added. “You two are constantly whispering to each other, giggling like children.”

Their blush deepened. “I…didn’t realize we were so obvious…”

“Tav, you spend nearly every waking moment making puppy eyes at Karlach,” Shadowheart smiled. “It was obvious from the first day you saw her.”

“And then you were so…annoyingly heroic,” Astarion mimicked waving a sword. He groaned, “all the while looking at her, practically begging for her approval.”

“To be fair,” the cleric leaned to the vampire, “I would too if it were a big, pretty woman who could carry me…”

“That’s because you breathe mommy issues, dear,” Astarion patted Shadowheart on the shoulder.

She recoiled, glaring at him. “That’s bold, coming from walking intimate and daddy issues.”

Tav held up a hand, “As much as you two have to…discuss? I have other plans to arrange. But…I assume I can count on you both?”

The pair glanced to each other, and nodded simultaneously.

“Good. Now, I’m off to get the muscle.”

—

Good. Got the decorations, the rings, the guests… Tav marched across the Inn plaza. The list was almost complete. Meaning…they’d have to speak to-

Before Tav could finish the thought, they felt a familiar tug on their arm. They turned to face Karlach.

“Hey-o~,” she hummed, smiling at Tav. They returned the expression, and tried to keep their muscles from melting. “Everyone’s…cheerful today, dontcha think?”

Sure enough, the Inn was alright with life and laughter. Astarion made quick work of passing out the Invitations, it seemed. Refugees and Harpers alike offered the couple smiles as they passed.

“Well, there is reason for celebration,” Tav patted Karlach’s hand. “These people are finally going to return home, once we clear Moonrise.”

“Home…” Karlach echoed. The longing in her voice twisted Tav’s innards. She sounded so somber, so different from how Tav knew her. Gods, how badly they wanted to take her home, to show her how it felt to lead a peaceful life again. No more wars, no more killing, and finally no more running.

Keep it together. They steeled themself, and smiled.

“Soon, we’ll be home, too,” they pulled Karlach in for a hug. “Together.”

Karlach’s arms ensnared them almost instantly. Tav smiled and relished in the weightlessness of her lifting them up. For only a moment, fewer things could make them happier.

“Fuck. Yes,” Karlach agreed as she set Tav on the ground. “I’m…so excited…just me and my darling. After, y’know, we figure out the parasite shit…”

“Me too, Ruby Red.”

Karlach’s flames flickered blue for a moment. She tittered, a strange sound coming from a creature as imposing as Karlach. For someone who didnt know their fiancée-to-be. For Tav, it set their fear at ease. They leaned in, meeting her impish gaze as the blue hue deepened.

“Gods-makin’ me blush~,” she nudged them, waving a hand. “I’m off to talk to some of the other tieflings, you wanna come?”

Tav promised again to join later. As Karlach walked away, Tav felt their chest surge. I have to get this right for her. With newfound drive, they moved off to make the final arrangements.