#his room is their room

[aaandbackstabbed]

[marypsue]

Keep seeing that post where OP starts like 'Thinking about...grieving the undead' and then adds on about like. Real life situations where people have not died but have left your life and you would have reason to grieve them.

All respect, that's an important concept, but that is not what I am thinking about when I read 'grieving the undead'.

[firephoenix23]

Like I literally have second hand embarrassment for Vox after seeing what Alastor ACTUALLY is like in a rivalry.

Like homie wishes he could be that close to Alastor 😂😂

[faunandfloraas]

[pangur-and-grim]

I think they’re going to become friends

[queenoftheimps]

Imagine you're Louis de Pointe du Lac, you've just divorced your second husband and reevaluated all of your life choices, you've spent a cool $10 million on what are essentially your therapy bills, you hop on a 12-hour flight across the world, you return to your hometown, you reunite with your first ex-husband, you process your grief over your daughter a little bit, you're stuck in a hurricane but it's all okay, it was all worth it because you're in a better place now emotionally and can start to move forward

And then, on the vampire-exclusive psychic channel, you hear the voice of your Definitely Still Human buddy Daniel going "hey Louis uh quick update for ya"

[percabetn]

i can’t stop thinking about how annabeth e-mailed percy the photo of her at dc but this doofus decided to print it and put it in his notebook to stare at her whenever he could. talk about dedication

[rumov]

my favorite scene from HoO

[redsray]

I love the hc that Tim never really stopped taking pictures of heroes and vigilantes even after he became Robin. Not even out of hero worship or anything-- he just found it fun. In fact, being Robin just made this hobby easier to do. He has them separated in folders and definitely has blackmail photos included.

The first time Tim met the Justice League one of his first reactions was to sneakily take at least one picture of each of them. Clark vaguely heard a camera shutter but he could never find any cameras or camera owners.

Sometimes Bruce comes to him and asks for specific pictures of members of the JL doing things they shouldn't be doing i.e Barry ditching a meeting cause he was eating Chipotle in the Watchtower kitchen. No one knows how Bruce gets the pictures except for the other Batfam members.

Tim is the god of blackmail right behind Babs. You need older blackmail or videos? Go to Babs. But Good quality blackmail photos? Tim is your guy.

He has at least 4 folders full of pictures of Dick specifically. One for his time as Robin, one for Nightwing, one for Discowing and one for just Dick.

He also manages to have pictures he definitely should not have because how did you get into the cave before you were Robin, Tim, but he refuses to elaborate on those. i.e Robin Jason out of costume, cozily reading at the batcomputer ("seriously, Tim, that's creepy"), Dick when he first adopted Haley ("were you there when I rescued her?!"), Damian training with the League of Assassins ("how the hell did you get that"), Duke back during the We Are Robin movement ("I do not remember you pulling out any cameras what the hell")

[000bun]

[sleepysebris]

:) 🖤

@mlsecretsanta gift for @thequeenofspace! happy belated holidays and apologies for the delay, had a serious family emergency followed by sickness! I had so much fun making this though, was so excited to finally draw these two 🖤 hope you enjoy!!!

[chloesimaginationthings]

In every FNAF universe William Afton can't count

[shotmrmiller]

your superior finding out about the secret praise kink you didn't know had a name because you'd always been called an over achiever, a goody two shoes. never gave anyone any trouble, nose burrowed in a book since you had knobby knees and a library card.

you'd thought it normal that the apples of your cheeks burned when praised after giving your teacher the drawing you'd made for them the night before. that heat spread from the center of your chest up when your first boyfriend/girlfriend whistled at the sight of you outside of uniform. that warmth settles in your belly when you get a pat on the back from your platoon leader firm enough to force the air out of your lungs because you'd disassembled and cleaned a glock with the ease of a professional.

apparently it wasn't.

after weeks of training with the fabled task force, weeks of sharing elbow room with the team, weeks of soaking up the dizzying praise from the captain ("did real good out there, eh? can always count on you." you didn't question the throb betwixt your thighs, taking care of it with a cute little bullet like you've always done since joining the military)

you're confronted by the worst of the lot. ghost catches you in a break room, your back to him, hands clutching a cup of coffee that's more sludge than liquid, its warmth barely seeping through the styrofoam.

his figure fills the doorway, shoulders nearly brushing the frame. your first thought is that his brows aren't twisted together and he lacks that cold, blank look in his eyes so your death isn't in the nearest of futures. the second is that when he's not fully covering his face, the outline of his jaw is quite visible, looking sharp enough to cut.

then he crosses his sculpted arms over his chest, seams straining against the expanse of his muscles, head tipped to the side.

he moves with the keen curiosity of a predator sniffing around a newborn fawn, gaze intense yet inquisitive, assessing your every detail with a menacing interest.

"you ever gonna tell me you've a praise kink, bird?" the question sends a chill through your veins before turning into a fiery rush as it races at twice the normal speed.

praise kink? no. surely not. doesn't everyone like to receive compliments?

"sure. i don't mind gettin' told i've an impressive cock but that's bed talk. you look ready to bend over 'nd show us how slick tha' pretty cunt can get over a rufflin' of hair and a couple of empty words."

that has you positively reeling, fingertips cracking the cup in your hands, pulse on your neck fluttering. you feel a cornered, skittish animal, ready to flee lest your life come to an end in his maws.

but as usual, the cruel man more creature than person, twists the knife he's dug into you with a certain ruthlessness only he can muster.

"so be good for me, eh? love your praise? earn it."

you've always been an over achiever, proven once again by the way you take him to the root in one long, broad stroke with any complaints at the sheer size of him resting firmly behind your clenched teeth.

"tight little thing, spread open over me like you were meant for it. for me." he runs a gloved thumb over your swollen bottom lip. "there's tha' look. drivin' me bloody insane when you gave kyle tha' molten gaze. none o' tha' now, yeah?"

he creeps his ungloved hand down to circle your pearl with the spit-slick pads of his fingers, drawing in a sharp breath when your walls flutter and constrict around his cock at the feel of something other than your toy giving you the relief you need after a hard day's work.

"bloody fuckin' 'ell."

ghost claims a fistful of hair, pulling you closer to him, his breath warming the stinging, throbbing mark he bit onto the delicate skin of your neck. the shuffling of feet right outside the door snap you out of your daze, fingernails sinking into the bulging muscle of his chest but he has none of it.

he uses your hair to direct your focus back onto him and even though he'd only given you a leading tug you felt some strands of your hair come off with a pop.

"easy. can't see your pretty face when i'm fuckin' ya if your lookin' away."

your expression twists into what you hope is bliss when he bucks his hips, your whimper drowning out his groan when he hits on something new.

something you want him to keep hitting.

"exactly like i'd thought."

everything else blurs together after that, and only when you're back in your room using a warm cloth to clean yourself up do you remember the other things he'd rumbled.

(inside o' ya, make you mine-)

(-get 'bout bein' with anyone else-)

(-ll to myself-)

you touch your tender pussy with gentle fingers at what he'd said in the end.

(leave tha' f'me, he swipes your hand away, i'll get ya there, pet.)

if price's compliments take a nose dive off a cliff you don't notice because you're getting your daily fill of them and ghost after dinner every night. kyle keeps them to one word and soap likes to tempt fate as always.

[crowlixcx]

You never say what you’re really thinking.

[mienar]

at the artist's loft

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[pangur-and-grim]

one funny thing is that after committing a crime, Belphie will lie down super flat and look up with his big wet eyes. not stressed out or scared, just accepting that he’s broken the rules and might’ve earned a time out in the kitten room. it’s the “I’m waiting for you to carry me away” position