#i don’t write tho

[what-is-merlin-so-gay-for]

Regulus „the stars are beautiful tonight“ Black and James „you are the most beautiful star of them all“ Potter

[maskofredacted]

Batman AU where the batfam is an extension of Gotham’s will so they can’t leave the city without taking a piece of it with them

Bruce, ever practical, has a batarang made from a steel piece off the bat signal (not that he’d be able to throw it but it’s a backup nonetheless)

Dick, Jay, and Tim have made it Robin tradition to carry pebbles in their pockets (the justice league has come to associate the soft jingling of rocks with the arrival of the Dark Knight)

Steph finds pretty rocks and quartz to crack open and share with Cassandra- and they cycle through their newest finds (cass does keep a shiny piece of obsidian in her utility belt, it was the first one Steph gave her)

Duke keeps a corner from a road sign in his pouch, the reflective yellow paint matches his theme- (what better representation of the city than perpetual construction)

Damian reverently carries a piece of deep green sea glass from the harbor. The color reminds him of his mother, and he finds the beauty fitting. (The irony that the only way for him to leave his new home is an echo of the reason he’s there in the first place is not lost on him.)

EDIT: LOOK AT THE REBLOGGED VERSION WITH MORE CONTENT ITS WORTH IT I SWEAR

[drop-dead-dino]

I’m totally normal about these two totally normal dudes :) .

I don’t usually read fics, specially AU related ones, but this one GOT me, holy cow. Check it out if you fancy that sort of thing! 

Love, Death, and Rollerskates by @spadillelicious !

[whumpacabra]

Sometimes you look something up for medical accuracy, understand the topic entirely, and then choose to ignore everything you just learned.

For the ✨drama ✨

[violetheart77]

Ah lads not again

[cheesecakethots]

Part 2 to this.

He had never been so caring for another, the guard noted. Lord Scaramouche was not the caring type, after all.

Despite that, the man had watched the lord express actual worry for you, the one huddled away in his tent as he barked orders at soldiers to find medicine, make warm soup, and heat up water. One of them had had his fingers broken for making the food too cold for the harbingers liking.

On the very few occasions the guard was permitted inside the tent, he had caught glimpses of the lord knelt beside your feverish figure in bed, the back of his hand softly resting on your forehead. If they had been any longer in finding you…

The few medics in camp were situated nearby, with any and all injuries not held by you being mostly ignored for the time being. You had barely been conscious for the past few days, slipping in and out, with some mumbled and confusing phrases leaving chapped lips.

The guard is brought out of his memories when Lord Scaramouche passes him, dramatically parting the tent covering and entering with a few quick strides. He immediately makes a beeline for your cold, limp body tucked away in bed.

Scaramouche places a hand to your cheek. His frown deepens, and you groan, glazed over eyes opening only a fraction.

“M…Mother?”

A sigh escapes him. His soulmate really is pitiful… and weak.

“… You’re safe now,” he mutters, surprised for a moment at the tinge of emotion in his own voice.

“Do… I have to help c…cook dinner?”

“No. You’ll never be doing that again.”

“Oh… okay…” A yawn leaves your throat.

“Go to sleep.”

“Can we have… chocolate later? I bought some… to share,” you murmur, trailing off until your breathing becomes light, and your eyes fully close.

The lord sighs. A shiver wracks through your body, despite the multiple animal hides you have on. He’s certain that his men have destroyed the surrounding ecosystem just to keep you warm, but, oh well.

He stands, hesitantly turning away from you. You need more blankets, maybe some more soup, anything to keep the fever from taking you away from-

Oh. His eyes widen, and he glances back to you, and then at the shaking hand pulling on his fingers.

“Don’t… leave me…”

You’re still asleep. It’s not as though you’re conscious and would know if he left, is it? It’s not as though your plea is anything more than some deluded fairytale in your mind, is it?

“I won’t.”

Curses.

Curse him, and curse you for awakening something he didn’t think he had, something in his chest that for centuries he was sure was simply an empty void of nothing.

He wants to scoff and leave you here, to tell you that he has no need for someone as weak as you in his life. He wishes he had left you tied to that tree and just kept moving, that he had never felt the touch of your skin against his own. That he had felt absolutely nothing, that he hadn’t felt a stab of fear for the first time in a long time when carrying your freezing cold body back to camp. It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a long, long while.

The next morning he leaves you alone for a short time, an hour at most. He regrets it when he comes back to you standing on two wobbly knees, the parts that make him up jolting at the sight.

“What are you doing?!”

You flinch, yelping when you abruptly turn to him and lose your balance. Hands, ones that send a feeling of static and electricity straight to your very core, are soon grasping onto you, holding you up before you can hit the ground.

“Are you daft?” The man spits out, visibly aggravated.

“Wh-What? What?”

“Get back in bed. I won’t ask you again.”

You don’t move, the sensation that comes with his touch only growing the longer the two of you stand.

“You’re… you’re…?” You whisper, eyes widening.

He pauses, the irritation in his expression dropping a little. After a beat, his lips part.

“… Yes.”

“We were in the woods, right? My village, they…”

Any softness on his face is wiped away the moment you mention your old home, and the people that resided in it. No longer waiting, he lightly pushes you back, leading you into the makeshift bed below. A blanket is soon wrapped around your quivering shoulders.

“Eat this,” he orders, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it close to your lips.

Chocolate.

“I’m not-“

“Eat.”

You tentatively take it from him, and the atmosphere grows awkward, at least for you, while he watches you chew on the rest of it.

“Thank you, it was delicious,” you tell him, truthfully. You haven’t had chocolate in a long time, as it was simply too expensive for your family to afford. Your mouth curves downwards into a frown.

“Rest.”

You don’t. You’re not sure if you can.

“My family, they let them take me. They didn’t… they didn’t stop them. They must…” A gasp is torn from you, and you meet his eyes once more. “How long has it been?”

“… Three days.”

You begin rise to your shaky feet, “I-I must go back, they’ll think that I’m-!”

He pushes you back down effortlessly.

“Are you a fucking fool?”

You can’t help but flinch at the absolute venom in his tone, but he isn’t done yet, towering over you.

“What do you think will happen if you go back, hm? That they’ll accept you with open arms, or they’ll send you right back to where I found you? Or, better yet, maybe they’ll set you alight there and then, rather than troubling themselves in having you freeze to death, they’ll instead watch you burn. Would you like to test if your family would spare you from that? Hm?”

You have never felt this small in your entire life.

“I-“

“Enough.” It appears the question was rhetorical, and your mouth closes, quickly feeling very dry.

His chest shudders with each deep breath he draws in, and he closes his eyes shut for a moment, seemingly trying to calm himself.

“Sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. Don’t ask me anymore stupid questions,” he turns on his heel, most likely deciding that he has something better to do. However, before he fully departs, he pauses at the entrance to the tent, still not looking back at you.

“You deserve better than that village, than that family who threw you out as though you were nothing to them. Know that I do not plan on doing the same, and that you… aren’t nothing to me.”

The intimidation you feel from him dimishes when you catch sight of the pinkish tinge to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t wait for your response, swiftly departing. You miss the few words of parting he gives you, as you tuck yourself into bed.

“Besides, it’s not as though you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

[crybaby-bkg]

method actor boyfriend yuuta who gets a little too invested in his upcoming movie role. he’s playing some psycho character; someone calculated and manipulative; cunning; a stalker; eventually a killer. he’s always been a good actor, but sometimes he has to delve deep in order to portray a role to the best of his abilities.

you start to notice a difference in him after a while, though. he tells you he has to leave you for a few hours at a time, only for you to catch sight of his gaze lingering in the bushes outside of your home. or do you? you’re never really sure, always catching glimpses and glances that make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. but you’re never really sure if you see him, his low stare, his tightly pulled mouth, the weapon his character uses slung over his shoulder.

he starts speaking to you differently, too. his vocabulary starts to be riddled with love and devotion and adoration, every chance he gets. he holds you close to him, too close, too tight, rests his face against your hairline, whispers against your skin, “don’t leave me—don’t ever leave me—I love you—you love me, don’t you?—don’t you?—you love me, right?”

sex with him isn’t really the same, either. he doesn’t even call it that anymore, calls it making love, and it wouldn’t be as unsettling if he didn’t look at you like that every time. like you hung the moon and the stars with your bare hands, like you breathed life into his very being, like you broke off a piece of your rib to place it so delicately inside his sternum.

his eyes get so rounded, so wide, seeing every inch of you, even the pieces hidden under the covers. his hands are so soft but they grip you so tightly, as if he’s scared that you might slip away if he blinks too long. his mouth constantly connected to your skin, whispering praises, his love for you, how you’re meant for him, how he can’t wait to be one.

he’s already inside of you, though. how else could he connect his body to yours? you know he’s playing a killer, someone willing to cut and scrape and bruise and maim the one he loves most. but he knows that it’s just a movie, right? that you’re not the star, that you’re his real partner, that he’s not actually like that? right?

[bakubunny]

sitting on the floor between kento’s legs after a long work day with his thick fingers in between your lips. the look on his face is subtle, but you can see the straining, heavy bulge in his slacks. he’s half looking at your hazy eyes and flushed cheeks with simmering lust, half paying attention to the news as he fingers your warm, soft mouth. you’re sitting so prettily for him, he thinks, waiting so patiently for him to unwind as your head turns fuzzy with need.

“just a little longer, princess. daddy’s going to reward you very soon for being such a good little girl.”

[johnbleepingzoidberg]

WELL.

evil weegee.

idea where luigi becomes evil one way or another (i’m into the idea of it being a wish-turned-curse-situation) and mario and bowser have to team up to figure out wtf happened and to stop luigi from causing mass destruction.

bowuigi bonus: relationship is pre-established meaning luigi is ruling koopa kingdom alongside bowser. perhaps luigi is self-conscious and feels like he isn’t seen as a leader, leading luigi to make a well-intentioned wish to be taken more seriously. the wish is warped and turns into a curse, turning him into a wicked ruler that takes over koopa kingdom, and his subordinates follow him out of fear rather than respect, when deep down respect is really all he wanted. it starts internally by luigi kinda turning against bowser (confusing the hell out of the poor guy) and just gets worse from there. bowser’s dismayed because both his husband and his kingdom have been yoinked away from him, so he begrudgingly has to team up with mario and peach and whoever else to get everything back.🤠

i kinda wanna write a whole fic now but i honestly am not as well-versed in mario lore as i used to be and haven’t played any of the games in years 😭😭 but ngl drawing evil luigi was fun. low key been in love with luigi since i was 8 years old so it was quite cathartic for me

EDIT: guys i know Mr L exists 😩 i knew of him when i drew this but not exactly who he was/what he did. but i still wanna try to make my own thing here/try to differentiate them LOL. there can be multiple flavors of evil right

flats under the cut because i’m not entirely happy with how the lighting turned out 😩

[myvampyrez]

sephiroth felt your hands grip the sheets, stirring in your sleep as you tossed and turned. he blinked the remaining sleep left in his eyes, adjusting to the darkness of the room as he finally felt you jolt up.

a hand flew to cover your mouth in a weak attempt to hush your ragged breathing. it was like barbed wire coated your throat as you tried to keep your sobs in, a flow of hot tears beginning to stream down your cheeks.

you knew he was awake, he always was a light sleeper. and with that knowledge, you draped your arm over his as he laid on his side— and you pressed a chaste kiss to his shoulder, now bare in the comfort of his bed rather than being armor clad like usual.

he can feel your eyelashes flutter against his arm while you press soft kisses against his skin, your hushed hiccups breaking the silence of the room. every broken sigh you let out to try and regulate your breathing made sephiroth’s heart pain even more, a sharp pain in his chest as he resisted the urge to sit up.

your gaze fell on his face, mako eyes standing out against the darkness of your bedroom as they turned to look at you, silver hair framing his face. he said nothing, merely reaching his hands towards yours and interlacing your fingers in a gentle grip. you cherished the moments where you did not feel leather on his skin, but instead the softness of his own hands.

and when you reached for his face in the dark, free hand stained with tears and the guilt of your own sorrow, a wave washed over both of your bodies. it’s hard to accept love when all you’ve known is hate, but that’s okay. he eased into your touch the same way your voice lured him into your web of a loving embrace, taking him into your arms as you whispered promises and affections soon to be fulfilled. all the memories you two shared were half-yours, because in this life, it’s a loop. and a loop is a circle, meaning there are two halves. half of this love came from you, too.

and that made sephiroth tear up a bit, knowing you just want to help people even as you’re crying yourself. in the morning he won’t ask you why you cried, he won’t ask about the nightmares you had and the terrible things you’ve faced on your lonesome. instead, he’ll wrap you into his arms the same way you did for him, and he’ll hold you for as long as you need. you’re okay with that, you thought, as your shoulders heaved with sobs that had yet to hit your ears, only focusing on your sephiroth’s heartbeat while you rested on his chest, reveling in the feeling of the familiar calloused hand that came to rest upon the back of your head.

[secretmellowblog]

For me the ‘canon homoerotic subtext’ between brick!Valjean and Javert is really more about the parallels between Javert and Eponine, who are explicitly set up as character foils.

Brick!Javert isn’t obsessed with Valjean like he is in adaptations. He’s not psychosexually obsessed with hunting him down; he really doesn’t seem to think of him as being any different than any other criminal—- he doesn’t think about Jean Valjean much at all until after Jean Valjean saves his life.

But after the barricades, Javert’s sudden weird desperate emotions about Jean Valjean are like a twisted mirror of his character foil Eponine’s weird desperate emotions for Marius.

Some guy takes pity on them, and extends them a bit of basic impersonal kindness— and they react by descending into this violently self-destructive suicidal admiration built on self-loathing. They’re both described as making themselves the “dogs” of Marius/Valjean, the dogs of people who barely remember they exist.

And anyway! I think there is potential to explore things there in analysis and fanfiction

[mysicklove]

How does Yuji look at Y/N? Like a kind of mother or a big sister? (I'M BEGGING YOU, WRITE MORE ABOUT BIG BRO SUKUNA😭😭😭)

hmmmm this is kinda hard. i think it’s all kinda blurred. he calls you by your first name, and never had a mother figure, so he prob finds comfort in a female figure. but also you are relatively young so it’s kinda hard to see you as a mother. plus he sees sukuna as his brother but also his guardian, so i think it’s like that more. sees you as one of his caretakers but not mother, sister + guardian i guess would he closest

sorry i don’t know how to explain things, i hope u understand!!

[stardustdiiving]

The way some people talk about “misogynistic writing” with the female genshin archons—specifically Nahida & Furina— kills me a bit, because while i do feel there’s valid criticisms of genshin’s writing to be made (especially regarding Ei, who I do feel was done a massive disservice writing wise), often I see people seem to come from a place of not understanding the writing/characters well, and/or leaning into like…very reductive ideas of what makes a female character “good” that honestly says more about their biases than Genshin’s

For example, a common complaint I see against Nahida & Furina is about them being made to be “weak/unserious” and how this is bad writing because genshin is unwilling to take their characters seriously—but the way this is argued seems to suggest Furina & Nahida would be better characters if they were more physically powerful, mature, or “cooler” in some way. But I really dislike the notion of girlbossification being seen as the one standard of good writing for women. A girl being strong and independent and able to punch things really hard isn’t a marker of inherent good writing

Nahida and Furina not being physically powerful or completely sure of themselves is the point. Their lack of life-experience-based maturity and overpowering physical strength are intentional and points of strength for their character writing, not flaws or weaknesses:

Nahida is the God of Wisdom—her primary source of strength is her intelligence, which comes from her curiosity about the world that is intrinsically linked to her being very caring by nature. The reason Nahida is at a disadvantage in physical strength with the antagonists—Scaramouche and Dottore—and doesn’t have an epic moment where she brute force overpowers them, isn’t because Genshin is treating Nahida like an incompetent joke, it’s because her character highlights the overall theme in Sumeru’s AQ that power isn’t everything and strength/wisdom comes from many places.

She outsmarts both Scaramouche and Dottore through her ability to strategize—if you’re trying to sell Nahida as a character who embodies wisdom, it’s far stronger writing wise to have her use her wisdom and mind to overcome narrative conflict than have her be all powerful. If you don’t think Nahida revealing she’s trapped Scaramouche in a dream loop after he tries to rip her gnosis from her, or her standing her ground against Dottore and forcing him to bargain with her when he attempts to intimidate her into giving him what he wants doesn’t make her “cool” or interesting….idk ! Maybe it’s not the writing and just your personal preference for character appeal

Furina —without getting too deep into 4.2 spoilers—has an arc revolving around the loneliness & conflict of needing to mold yourself into a performance for a greater purpose, and grappling with personal identity and autonomy in the aftermath of performance and repression shaping your life. I really don’t understand how people watch how she’s handled and come away with the conclusion her character gets bent around Nuevillette’s man pain/the fact he’s just so ~much more competent than her unless you’re just really not interested in trying to engage Furina’s writing or taking it in confusingly bad faith

Her struggling with lacking the physical power/competence a god “should” have is, again, the point of her character and they are very clear where that lack of ability comes from within the writing. Her narrative actions follow an arc that revolves around this internal conflict she has—she feels very established to be her own person and they certainty don’t shy away from expanding on Furina’s emotions without it only being done as footing for other (male) characters

I think Nahida & Furina were just not what people were expecting the Dendro & Hydro Archon to be like, I also see a lot of complaints that neither of them “act like gods” or “seem very godlike” but see, in my opinion, one of the central themes to genshin overall is to examine the relationship between humanity and the divine. Part of this also includes calling into question what a god should be, especially in relation to humans/having a sense of humanity

The center conflict within Nahida & Furina’s characters is that their sense of humanity is at odds with being held to what being a god “should” be. Nahida is imprisoned by the Sages who treat her with disdain for being a child and not being inhumanly perfect enough to be useful to them as a deity. We see Furina try to engage with her people earnestly in a more human way before realizing she needs to put up the performance that proceeds to shape her life & state of deep loneliness for the next 500 years to be taken seriously and fulfill her duties. You aren’t supposed to look at Nahida or Furina and think they’re all powerful otherworldly divine beings. You’re supposed to view the, as people—people who are young and inexperienced regarding their position in life. Venti and Zhongli act like people in the same way—the only difference is they have more experience and have had the time to accomplish more feats as original members as the Seven

Again, it’s not that I don’t think there’s criticisms to be made. Genshin to me sets up Ei to be a character who requires a lot of self reflection/growth and thought with handling her moral dubiousness, and then out of desperately worrying she won’t be likable enough, seems to bend over with trying to insist on Ei being palpably appealing while not following through on a lot of what her character really needs to feel well handled. (I feel they barely even address Ei needing to rebuild trust with her people and it’s only more clear when you now see Furina spend a lot of time handling something similar despite doing less um, government oppression thsn Ei did for instance HDJNDJDJ. But I guess me pinning where my personal dissatisfaction with her writing comes from is another post in of its own and more based in general issues with Inazuma vs viewing it as misogynistic writing alone) The trend of not letting a female character grapple with her morality and try to push her being livable at the expense of addressing her complexity does honestly feel it falls into a misogynistic writing trends. I am really bummed out with Ei’s execution when genshin has proven through other characters along with Nahida and Furina they are capable of handling a character like her writing wise imo

But I really think, again, if someone thinks none of genshin’s women are engaging or interesting, or that Nahida and Furina aren’t taken seriously enough narratively while seeming to not really understand the intent of the characters’ writing, or want to take them seriously unless they’re cool/girlboss-y enough, I feel it may say more about their ideas of handling women in fiction than it does about genshin. I get personal preferences and not being really into a character, but people so frequently frame it as a possibly misogyny pattern with how genshin writes the female archons and I can’t help but disagree. I think sometimes people don’t consider what the story is trying to say with the characters vs what they think is cool or want (and of course what we all think is cool or may want/expect narratively is always informed by our own biases). There’s a level of subjectivity in how you can interpret writing and narratives of course but they’re just not interpretations I feel fit into what’s presented in the text !

[paimonial-rage]

wriothesley 3, 16, 17 :3 -- @milkstore

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

What is Wriothesley’s mbti/enneagram?

Wriothesley is a 9w8 ESTP sp/so.

What is the best way to win Wriothesley’s heart?

Wriothesley is a simple man, and simple men require simple methods. Simply put, the best way to win Wriothesley’s heart is to flirt with him. He doesn’t need much more than that. Challenge him, tease him, take him by surprise. Play hot and cold. Accept his invitations for tea, then spurn his advancements the next. Present yourself as a catch, dance right out of his reach, and let his instincts kick in. But make sure you’re having fun too. It’s not a game if both people aren’t having fun.

What are Wriothesley’s strengths in a relationship?

Of the many traits Wriothesley was blessed with, two that stand out are his level-headedness and his tendency toward action. No matter what you may go through as a couple, he will not be overcome by stress or fear. You can always trust him to be solid no matter the storm. Not to mention you can trust he will not take the backseat in your relationship. If there is anything wrong, he will address it. But more than that, if he sees the chance to make you happy, he will take it, whether it’d be bringing home flowers or taking you on a date to something you want to see. In a relationship, he won’t let you feel alone.

[anatheapple]

Okay, so this is an idea I’ve had floating around in my head for awhile now as a DPxDC crossover! However, I acknowledge that my DC knowledge is still a bit lacking, but hear me out though!

So, Jason was raised by Willis & Cathy/Catherine Todd, who he believed to be his birth parents, right? Unfortunately, for him, that’s only half right as his birth mother wasn’t Cathy, but a Dr. Sheila Haywood (who betrays him to Joker & gets him killed). However, while Cathy did raise Jason as her son, imagine if she actually did have a biological child with Willis, but sent him away?? And this child maybe got adopted by a pair of crazy Ghost Scientists with a child of their own already?

I imagine, in this scenario, Jason might’ve found both his and Danny’s birth certificates at the same time, instead of just his own! Gives him some more conflict during this time when Bruce has benched him as Robin & he now finds out he has a half brother somewhere out there and his bio mom is (possibly) still alive! So many fun plots to explore! Maybe he chooses to not find Danny, as he believes this life is too dangerous and doesn’t want to drag him in? Or, maybe, that’s the first person he wants to find! The last biological piece of Catherine, the mother who loved and raised him as her own! (Also, imagine the feelings Danny would feel about his birth mother giving him away but raising Jason instead??)

But even more tragically… imagine Jason and Danny both kick the bucket within a year of each other… like, Danny would have to be younger than Jason, but depending on how you have the timelines line up, they could both have their deaths happen pretty soon after each other!

The angst Jason would feel after finding out his brother died and came back like he did?? (Well, kinda, depends if you view Ectoplasm and Lazarus Water as the same/similar.) That he also is forever changed and put through hell because of their “accidents”?? Maybe he could’ve saved Danny if he tried harder to look for him. Maybe he could’ve saved them both! Imagine his conflict when being reunited!

Anyways, that’s the main details I’ve come up with for this idea, so I hope it makes sense! Don’t know if someone has already written something like this (if so, please share with me 🙏). But I don’t think I’ll actually write anything with this but I needed it out there and out of my head! (Also, I’m not on here often so idk how this app works, hope the right people find this & enjoy it. If you know me irl, no you don’t.)

[crybaby-bkg]

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. Want me to kiss it where it hurts?” Kirishima purrs up at you, his place between your thighs seemingly the closest thing he can get to ascension. His eyes are wide, his pupils blown out, any red swallowed up by the lust pooling in his eyes. he looks like the picture of adoration and worship, all faux worry and pure hunger as he bounces between your gaze and the pretty picture that twitches in front of his face. his eyes cross to watch the slick ooze from your hole, sighing.

“It’s the least you could do for me,” you pout to him, running your nails through his soft locks, tugging a little meanly at the root. “After using me like a toy on your cock for so long.” Your words are sighed wistfully, your eyes betraying just how much you want his mouth on you as he wants to taste you. Kiri moans at that, quiet and in the back of his throat, but you hear it none the less.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he repents, but it’s all for naught when his tongue laves over your sensitivity and doesn’t let up until you’re crying from the overstimulation once more. he’s so sorry—that you can only cum so many times before you tap out. he’s so sorry—that your thighs are more sore from tightening up around his head than his working jaw. he’s so sorry—that you’re so addicting, that he can lay between your legs until his last breath leaves him.