#most expensive in the world

[mostexpensiveintheworld]

most expensive in the world, millionaireceoclub.com, https://www.MillionaireCEOclub.com

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Everything I know about Flash and the FlashFam (& Flash enemies) comes from fandom and theflashmuseum on tiktok so fair warning on that lol

Sorry if Barry is out of character or things don't line up with canon. Canon is a stranger I think I passed in a crowded room once, I did not ask for its number lol

Anyway, time to touch a bit more on that whole Ancient of the Speedforce Elle thing yeah? Here be a sprinkle more of that and I promise there's more to come haha

Gonna start posting this on Ao3 soon, probably Monday or Tuesday, so heads up I may stop adding these parts here on tumblr once I do

---

It lived beneath his skin.

For a long time Barry had never believed in magic. His world was grounded, scientific, made of predictable rules and laws. Tools that could be used to explain everything strange or supernatural away as just another odd twist of the massive universe they all belonged to.

It took perhaps a little longer than it should have to admit that magic was as real as thermodynamics and gravity and atoms. That the world was a great deal stranger than even science - for all its own wildness at times - could account for. There were things that went bump in the night. Hells below and heavens above and things that crawled and clawed their way out from the places in between.

It was almost a little embarrassing how long it had taken him to admit to such things, when considering his relationship with the Speedforce.

A force of the universe. Like gravity or time, pushing and pulling everything along. Something that could be explained with all the familiar scientific concepts that had buoyed him along in life for so long.

Except.

Except.

Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful but felt. Making his hair stand on end, his fingers tingle and numb. Sliding against his veins, bouncing between scar tissue and freckles. Pressing out from the confines of his sternum, rattling against his rib cage as it shifted and moved. Twining around each and every vertebrae. Coiling over and under itself within his skull, darting along the paths of his neurons and nerves. It hummed in every cell in his body. Darted and danced in the space between the atoms that made up his very existence.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

Lived.

Not existed. Not contained. Lived.

He couched it in terms of science, but science - despite his long time refusal to acknowledge it - wasn’t really able to explain the full scope of what he could feel. Not just the power of the Speedforce, but the…the identity of it. The living part that made it’s home in his body, existing in a way that was separate from him. Distant and indistinct most of the time, but…sentient.

He could feel it. Warm and excitable, delighting every time he tapped into it. Pushing him from behind urging him on and on, tugging him forward from ahead beckoning to go, faster, faster. Joyful in his victories, despairing in his loses.

It lived beneath his skin.

Until it didn’t.

He followed its joyful calls, pushed beyond what he should, what he knew was safe. Chasing that welcoming chant of faster, faster until he was there. In the Speedforce. More even, was the Speedforce.

He was everywhere. Beyond everywhere. In every possible everywhere it was possible to be. Every world, every universe, every multiverse.

To enter the Speedforce, to merge with it, was to become part of existence itself.

He couldn’t remember everything about it once he came back. He got flashes, sometimes, quick moments in dreams of places, of moments. What stuck with him most had been the feeling of it all. That had been the hardest part of returning. The sense of terrible loss, of having been surrounded by such a giddy, delighted, devoted love only to be pulled back from the heart of it. Returned to how he had been before, drifting at the edge of it all, it had been painful, agonizing even.

He…adapted, eventually. The sense of it all was still there, just distant. Something he’d come to feel he’d see again, someday.

It had been different, recently.

His powers were the same, he just as fast as ever, but…there was something…off. Changed. A sense that while his speed remained, the Speedforce had become, for lack of a better word, quiet. Distant.

He’d been having dreams, since it started. Not the quick glimpses of his time where he’d merged with the Speedforce. No, instead they were more nightmarish. Not nightmares exactly, though he felt like they should be with what they contained, but something else. Something that felt unnervingly real, left him confused and reeling when he woke with the certainty that when he opened his eyes he’d see the same as what his dreams held.

In the dream, he was in a room.

Cement and metal, hostile and brutalistic in design. He was bound in place, standing upright with feet and hands spread wide and locked in place within strange devices. Gleaming chrome and brilliant green, a painful thrum of energy surging through his body - not the Speedforce, something else, deeply unpleasant pulsing through every cell of his being and freezing him in place more firmly then the restraints did. Projectors hung from the ceiling, displaying images of landscapes, changing every ten second or so.

The sight of them made him nauseous, body shivering and spasming with the burning, agonizing need to go, but at the same time there was something distantly soothed by them too. Like a gnawing hunger abated with water and crumbs. The need for food not gone but the pangs diminished by the false feeling of being full.

In the dream he felt like he was dying.

In the dream he was afraid that maybe he couldn’t.

That he’d be trapped alive in that state forever, watching places he’d never see in person again as he was trapped in one place. His mind spiraling his Core splintering under the weight of it all, scared so scared. He wanted his brother, wanted to see the cement walls explode into dust and debris and see him there, ready to save the day like he had so many times before.

He just had to wait. His brother was looking for him, would have everyone in the Realms looking for him. He just had to hold on.

Barry didn’t have a brother. He only remembered when he woke, heart hammering in his chest fast even by his own standards, mouth tasting of bile and body aching with the need to go.

He hadn’t been sleeping much these days, even before the King of the Dead declared war.

It was having its effects, as sleep deprivation always did. His mind drifting, catching again and again on the dream, attention far away from the world around him. How many times had he been startled by someone calling his name, touching his arm? How many times had they given him a pinched, worried look that told him they’d been trying to reach him for longer than they should have before he noticed.

He was aware, distantly, of the glowering, stern faces around him. The flinty looks of his friends’ and partners’ eyes as they stared at the image of Waller’s scowling mug.

She’d declined an in-person meeting, hunkering down in some bunker somewhere trying to avoid the consequences of her latest atrocities. Or maybe just trying to avoid the very real possibility that one of the members of JL Dark might try to kill her for what she’s caused.

Or JL light, for that matter.

Bruce and Clark had their rules that they lived by, but Diana certainly wouldn’t hesitate to splatter Waller’s brains across the nearest available wall. In reviewing footage of one of the last battles - she’d been at the other one at the time, trying to contend with a ghost in the shape of an ethereal dragon - she’d recognized the spectral figures of Amazons long dead, fierce even in death as they fought with a warrior’s pride along side the rest of Phantom’s armies. They followed a figure that towered even above the Amazons, four arms and gleaming armor and a name that Barry associated with ruin and forgotten hope but who was so much more to Diana. Heroes long departed to the fields of Elysium, stepping out of their well earned rest to fight once more.

A few hadn’t survived the weapons the GIW shot them with. Barry didn’t know what that meant, for a ghost to die. If they simply returned to their afterlife or -

He tried not to think about the or.

They’d been going back and forth for awhile now. Voices faraway, muffled. The world felt as if it was underwater, blurred and cold. Clark had gotten to his feet at some point, Waller’s grip on a pen so tight on the screen he expected to see if burst at any moment. It was an important meeting, an important discussion. One he needed to be apart of, aware of, but it all escaped him. Sand held too tightly, slipping through his fingers. On the screen, Waller hit a button on the computer beside her and the image changed.

The world burned back to life in sharp relief.

The dream.

The room.

Cold cement. Projections of unreachable places on the walls. Chrome and green machinery in a configuration meant to contain.

It looked larger on the screen.

Maybe it was how small the figure held prisoner inside it was.

She was young. A child, no older than Superboy Jr. or Robin. She looked like Phantom - her father - but there were differences. Her hair was white, but it didn’t look like the spun starlight of her father’s. Instead it burned, the bright hot crackling of the plasma of a lighting bolt striking. Skin the blur of shapes caught just at the corner of the eye as you ran past, Eyes -

Looking at him.

The image had come up, a live feed - he knew it was live, knew he was looking at her where she was at that exact moment - and she’d been as he was every time he tried to sleep. Trembling and shuttering, eyes squinting against the pain, trying to stay open so as not to miss a single moment of the flat images imposed on blank cement walls. Desperate to fill the fathomless hunger burning deep down in the Core of her.

But then a shuttering breath and her eyes - the burning green of an afterimage - snapped up to the camera. Snapped up to look at him, recognition in her young face. And despite never having seen this girl before, he recognized her too.

The Speedforce lived beneath his skin.

She lived beneath his skin.

He could feel her there. Buzzing, burning, blistering. Not painful, but felt.

Not as felt as she used to be.

The image snapped back to Waller’s face, smug and self-satisfied. Talking - lying - about the how the girl was there, what the GIW’s intentions for her were. Barry was on his feet, but so was everyone else. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, could only hear static, the rush of wind, the crack of the lightning bolt. A call for help.

It was then that the alarms began to blare. On the screen someone rushed in to whisper into Waller’s ear. Bruce was running out of the room towards the Zeta tubes and Barry was right there with him and there was so much chaos around them, men in white and Gothamites and Ghosts banding together to rain terror down upon them and something massive and horrible and living towering above it all and Barry let go of that last bits of logic and thought.

Instinct, older than he was. The echo of a voice that had called him for years now, carrying him along, biding him forward:

Run.

Someone might have shouted after him as he left Gotham behind. He didn’t know.

All he knew was the pounding of his feet upon the ground, the wind in his face, the Speedforce lashing and frantic and hopeful burning and sizzling beneath his skin. Calling him further and further away until he stood in a vast, empty field staring at a single, rusted shack near ready to collapse before him.

He wasn’t alone.

Wally. Bart. Max. More still. Not just his family and friends. Eobard. Hunter. Thaddeus. Everyone touched by the Speedforce.

They didn’t speak. Bodies humming and thrumming, crackling with energy and intent.

Minds as one, they focused on the shed, the hidden hatch inside, the base hidden deep below.

The Speedforce lived beneath their skin, and no one was going to steal it away from them.

[kacievvbbbb]

I just know Crocodile brought on Mihawk because he thought he would be sensible, calm and collected, low maintenance. He thought it was going to be them against the idiocy that is buggy. And it is to a degree.

What he failed to calculate is that Mihawk is just as bad as buggy.

Worse even because at least Buggy can be bullied into doing paperwork. I just know everyday Crocodile is astonished by the absolute commitment Mihawk has to his aesthetic. Walks into his tent just to find that he has somehow converted this circus ass tent into a mid century gothic castle. Somehow carpeted the whole thing end to end is burning more that a 100 candles for “mood lighting”, has a fully open fire pit and a sewing machine in the corner.

Like Crocodiles essentially a mafioso he can appreciate the wanting nice things. Still won’t prepare him for the day Mihawk’s brings him a wine budget, a tailoring budget and an embroidery budget all painstakingly itemized.

Won’t prepare him for having to replace every single wine glass because buggy drank out of one and he can’t break up a set but refuses to use a cup that buggy’s put his mouth on.

He’s starting to think that the real reason the Warlords were disbanded was because they simply could not afford to pay for Mihawk’s upkeep anymore and decided they’d rather pay in cadet lives than see one more wine budget.

He is essentially being held hostage, in his own guild, by the whims of a bored middle aged vampire, and a fucking clown.

[slavicafire]

once you notice the ghoulification of celebrities through uncontrolled unhealthy and obsessive drug-induced extreme weight loss you will no longer be able to miss it. faces and bodies and expressions nearly unrecognisable. and you need to see it! you must consciously see it. paired with just as extreme and uncontrolled and unhealthy plastic surgery, you need to see it as grotesque and ridiculous, you must not assume this is the new normal, you can't passively accept it as this new standard we must hold each other to.

you must see it as a cruel and oppressive capitalist tool that it is. you need to see it and point it out and remember that it is unhealthy and obsessive and that it is actively harmful as it trickles down from the rich high horse down onto the people. that it is directly and consciously created to target minorities and profit off of them. that it brings direct and tangible harm to people already endangered by the system. you need to see and understand the impact of the abuse of resources and the push for accepting a lack of ethics in genuinely useful medical fields. it is pushed as the new standard hard. push back.

[supermaks]

Oscar Piastri has his eyes on the prize, for Esquire. Og photography and styling by James Anastasi and Catherine Hayward. Edit by me.

[unhinged-nymph]

Just rewatched the first episode of Wonderhole and marked down all the Rhinky Moments:

"There's a coconut in my pants if you're still hungry."

the butt touching in the bathroom

"I think this is what they call the mile high club. If it was gonna happen, it would be here."

"Have you ever been strapped to a bed before? ... Don't answer that."

"I'm pretty sure these tongs are so we can feed each other... without touching each other's lips."

"I go into your mouth?"

them acting married in bed

their "confessions"....

"There's nothing we haven't shared with each other. It's pretty special" wtf

them being so married on this island

the cloud watching

their favorite game of all, "what am I thinking about"

them hugging over the peanut butter

the whole sex with the peanut butter conversation......... hello

and bringing up fanfic???

"eat. out. of the jar" breathily: "okay. yeah, me too"

the peanut butter boys <3

Dr. Coco, their *couple's* therapist

"I know you do."

"So maybe there's a way for us to share that first perfect bite." hmm

linking arms to eat the peanut butter but then, not?

"not that we are making love with one another" they really looked into each other's eyes from centimeters away while they said that too wtf

the fucking sex bush

them eiffel towering said sex bush ???

the way they licked the peanut butter off the leaves... and then realizing they were from the used sex bush

"The two best friends were sharing again... maybe more than they realized."

[incultas]

“sample” “layout” i did for my tattoo artist. i’ll post their rendition of it after my appointment ^-^

[morganbritton132]

A big pet peeve of mine is when you stop doing a hobby and people take it as a personal offense.

Like, five or six years ago I stopped drawing. It was never a hobby I particularly liked. It was cheap, I was good at it, and people paid attention to it so fading it out to focus on hobbies I actually liked was no big deal to me.

If you asked my relatives though, I might as well have killed somebody.

Also, they don’t seem to have a clue about what I actually drew because they’ll come up to me and talk about landscapes or buildings. I drew people! Specifically and only people.

[thestobingirlie]

does anyone else always think about how gale’s primary motivations throughout the books are the protection of his and katniss’ families and the freedom of his people from the capitol’s tyranny.

and then that it was his idea for a bomb that killed prim, scarred katniss for life and ended the war. because ultimately he could never do both. he could never keep all the people he loved safe and free them from capitol control.

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Ugh everyone dunking on Steven are soooo cringe 🙄

Shane and Ryan are grown men who stood by this decision, so please dunk on them too lmao.

[imperatorrrrr]

the Swiss do not fucking miss

[wildtornado-o]

Horsegirl Félix.....

Félix would really love animals alot i think <3

Kofi Link for tips and comms! :)

[l8tof1]

i ordered something from the plus 44 drop even though it’s so stupid expensive and i didn’t even think the collection was anything special but now it suddenly felt so special so i had to get it 🙃

[beyoursledgehammer]

I'm glad my relationship has been able to withstand the shit we've had to deal with so far but also I'd like for us to have to go through less bullshit.

But also at the end of this current bullshit we'll have a kid and that'll make it worth it.

[girlwiththegreenhat]

the insanity of making a new streaming service when the streaming bubble is literally popping Right Now

[maxbanshees]

got some cyanotypes up on the shop! :~)