older!Tom Grant is a lonely, lonely man.
… or at least he was…
before he adopted Haz (short for Harold) the one-year-old English Bulldog from the local animal shelter and Jago the former stray cat (definitely one of those stereotypical orange himbo cats) who just sort of walked into Tom’s place one day and stayed there. together, the three of them are “The Lads.” if you ever hear Tom mention that he’s with “The Lads,” he’s likely talking about his non-human roommates, not his actual mates.
granted, he’s a social guy, so he definitely spends plenty of time with his mates.
27 notes
·
View notes
hmm thinking about older bf!simon who hasn’t really got his head around the whole sexting thing- the man had a flip phone before he met you.
he had, however, reluctantly gone out and got an android after a harmless conversation between the two of you.
“how am i meant to send you videos while you’re away if you have a flip phone, si?”
“videos of what?”
“guess.”
he virtually only uses the thing to get texts, calls, and videos of you fucking yourself in your shared bed whilst he’s deployed. he saves every video, which is a risky manoeuvre considering you haven’t taught him how to set a passcode yet (johnny catches a not-unwelcome eyeful when he goes looking for the directions he sent simon earlier)
older bf!simon is also a fantastic listener, when you tell him you want him to send pics but not ones that make his cock look like a dead fish. you give him strict instructions:
put your phone on self-timer, sit back, thighs spread, one hand around your cock, the other behind your head, you choose if your face is in it xox
man loves an order.
so whilst he’s away, you’re in the kitchen cooking up dinner-for-one and your phone buzzes on the counter- you drop the fucking pasta strainer straight on the floor when you unlock your phone.
simon’s face wasn’t necessarily in the photo, more so his mask. he was fully dressed, tactical gear (down to the vest) still on with a rifle leaning against his thigh. he was in the exact position you’d request, gloved fingers wrapped around the base of him with his other bicep firm behind his head.
you’re so busy saving the photo and staring back at it 100,000 times that you forget to respond. honestly, you forget how to function as your mouth goes dry and your eyes are unable to look at anything else.
simon hesitates on the other end, wondering if he’d fucked up- if he hadn’t followed the brief, if he’d embarrassed himself. thankfully, he knows he only has to ask.
“that what you were after, pet?”
the trepidation in his chest is replaced with a rapidly inflating ego.
“jesus christ, that’s exactly what i needed”
swapped out with slight confusion, but the ever present willingness to learn.
“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”
pt2
12K notes
·
View notes
I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
7K notes
·
View notes
Ok but think about knowingly off putting little brother regulus and obliviously supportive older brother Sirius who still get along so Sirius excitedly introduces his wonderful brother to his friends and is just completely unaware of how regulus is purposefully freaking them out and much it’s working, like
Regulus: … your animagus form is a stag right?
James: how… how do you know that?
Regulus: I know a lot of things, is it a stag?
James: uh, yeah?
Regulus: cool. Have you shed your antlers yet?
James: … what 😀
Regulus: deer shed their antlers every year. It’s really gruesome, look *shows him a picture from a book* you should tell me how it feels when it happens.
James: 😟
-Later-
Sirius: isn’t he great? 😊
James, fidgeting with his head where his antlers are in his animagus form: yeah… yeah he’s something…
2K notes
·
View notes
I find it ironic that western leftists demand israelis leave israel because we're all white colonizers in their eyes (regardless of the fact that even if jews really weren't indigenous to the levant, which we are, over half the population is middle eastern anyway), but when we do leave israel for other countries we get hatecrimed. it would be bad enough if we had people telling us "good on you for going back to where you came from" or some shit but no they really just view us as inherently irredeemable and evil no matter where we are. almost feels like they're trying to lure us into being harassed overseas.
484 notes
·
View notes