#territory marked

[iydiamartinx]

I’m fully convinced Kill Bill is one of Damian Wayne’s favorite movies. Like, this boy would absolutely whistle the theme and quote the lines at criminals

Damian begins whistling the Kill Bill theme, stepping out of the shadows. His katana drags along the concrete, sending sparks flying. Tim: …is he whistling? Jason: More importantly…Is that the Kill Bill theme? The Batfam watches as the criminals freeze in pure terror. Dick: *sighing* He’s doing the thing again. Duke: Oh god, who let him watch the movie again? Tim: Someone stop him. Jason: You stop him. Tim: I like my limbs attached, thanks. Dick: *pinching the bridge of his nose* We really shouldn’t have let Alfred buy him the Blu-ray. They all keep watching. No one moves to actually intervene.  Jason: *tilting his head as he stares in mild approval* Okay but… you gotta admit, it’s pretty cinematic. Stephanie: *nods in agreement* Duke: *groans* You’re enabling him. Jason: I’m proud of him. There’s a difference. Damian: *grinning eerily* Do you find me sadistic? Criminal #1: *faints* Criminal #2: *pees himself* Criminal #3: *screams and runs straight into a wall*

[shmeemin]

guess what i watched recently :o)

[shotmrmiller]

doing everything within your power to not get into any more hand to hand practice with simon because he's very very rough with you during them. he doesn't care that he could easily snap you in half like a pencil, "ya oughta learn 'ow to take a man my size down f'good. always be prepared for the worst."

it's terrible. if it wasn't for the fact that you always see johnny limp away after his sparring session while shooting you a grin with pink teeth, you'd think simon has it out for you in particular.

except he doesn't. (or doesn't he?) all those finger shaped bruises on your flesh are all purely for his own benefit. seeing the mottled skin on your neck from where he held on a little too tight, your arms from where he pinned you in place at his utter mercy, the blotches on your legs, where his fingers dug into your inner thighs-

his eyes cross at the thought of eventually being able to leave those same bruises in the exact same spots but with his mouth instead. saliva pools in his mouth when he's got your face pressed firm into the mat, neck bared, a blank canvas for his lips, his teeth.

simon wonders if you'd be ticklish if he were to suckle an ugly bruise right over your racing pulse.

(starved to have you come in his mouth, his tongue flat on your pebbled clit, pulsating, as if it's got a heartbeat of its own.)

for now he watches you receive sympathy pats on your back as it's your turn again, swallowing thickly when he spots fresh bruises on your calves, close to your ankles.

art requires a certain cruelty.

[choccy-milky]

marking his territory 🐍💚 (from chap 17 of my fic~)

[distorted-destiny]

entering the mononoke fandom the only way i know: by making shitpost.

[snakeredbirdbatkatana]

Tim who is super possessive and protective after all this is a Rich kid who went from an only child to a kid with twenty siblings.

Kon who everytime Lex glances at him knows that he doesn't have to move because he's feels Tim's hand on his lower back.

Superboy who gets kidnapped and watched necks get snapped from his Robins hands.

Dick Grayson is at a gala and watches Connor Kent come in covered in black and red. Wearing rubies and diamonds that cost millions and that he knows his brother bought. Nevermind the hickes decorating Superboys neck that he doesn't want to know how they are staying there.

Just Connor Kent being Tim Drake's darling prince he's got a hot, rich, powerful as fuck boyfriend.

That man don't got to worry about shit.

[bloodydeanwinchester]

DESTIEL IN EVERY EPISODE → 6x15 the french mistake

when will i be able to make you understand? if i lose against raphael, we all lose. everything.

[braceletofteeth]

You underestimate me too much.

[iydiamartinx]

TERRITORY, MARKED

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader ft. Dick Grayson

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 2.1k synopsis: Damian makes an unexpected friend at the dog park—but when his older brother tags along one day and takes a little too much interest, Damian decides one thing for certain: this was not supposed to be a shared friendship. a/n: I got this cute request from @kitkatscabinet hope you liked it 🩵

He didn’t like the noise, the chaos, or the strangers who insisted on asking where his parents were—just because he was twelve and walking around with a dog half his height. The scrutiny was always the same: curious stares, patronizing smiles, or the occasional busybody who seemed convinced he was lost. He wasn’t. He had perfect directional memory and could incapacitate a grown man with two fingers.

But Titus needed exercise, and Alfred had made a rather pointed comment that morning about how “a well-socialized pet is a reflection of his owner’s discipline.”

So here he was, standing stiffly beneath a tree with his arms crossed, watching Titus bound after a tennis ball like a slobbering oaf. His nose wrinkled slightly as a group of women near the water fountain cast him a judgmental look—three of them with toy dogs tucked neatly into designer purses like accessories. Damian could feel the weight of their stares on him and Titus and he was just about ready to call it a day when he heard a voice behind him.

“That’s a gorgeous dog,” you said, gaze following Titus. “Yours?”

Damian turned, immediately wary.

He looked you over with practiced suspicion, eyes narrowing just slightly. You were older than him—maybe around Grayson’s age—but you didn’t speak to him with the gratingly high-pitched, patronizing tone adults so often used. There was no forced sweetness, no condescension, no judgment. Not even fear. Just curiosity.

An unclipped leash hung loosely from your fingers, and a husky stood at your side, tail wagging as it trotted toward Titus with a cheerful bark.

“Yes,” Damian replied curtly.

You didn’t flinch at his curt reply. Didn’t backpedal or fill the silence with awkward chatter the way most people did when confronted with Damian’s usual icy demeanour. Instead, you just nodded as your husky bounded up to Titus, sniffing noses and circling excitedly.

“They’ve got good instincts,” you said casually, eyes on the dogs. “Mine doesn’t usually approach ones that size unless they’re friendly.”

Damian followed your gaze. Titus, ever the soldier, stood tall and still, allowing the inspection without so much as a twitch. Then, with a quiet chuff, he gave a single, measured wag of his tail and lowered his head in greeting.

A rare sign of approval.

Damian’s stance eased—just slightly. “…He doesn’t usually tolerate strangers,” Damian said slowly.

You smiled a little at that. “Guess today’s just full of exceptions.”

He studied you again, this time with a shade less suspicion. You didn’t have the overenthusiastic energy most dog people radiated. You weren’t trying to pet Titus without permission, or asking how old he was like he was a child running errands without supervision. You simply stood there, hands in your pockets, content to watch the dogs with quiet interest.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you offered after a beat, though your tone made it clear there was no pressure to respond.

“…Damian,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Damian.”

He gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod, then let his gaze return to the dogs. Titus and your husky had taken to one another quickly, and Damian felt another piece of his wall chip when he saw how happy Titus was with his new friend. 

Silence settled between the two of you again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You eventually moved to the nearby bench, letting your dog roam in a wide circle with Titus while you scrolled through your phone.

Damian didn’t sit beside you—not right away. But after a few minutes, he shifted his weight. Then stepped closer. Then finally sank onto the far edge of the bench, arms still crossed but no longer on guard.

That was how it started. The next time he saw you, you sent him a friendly wave. The time after that, you offered him a spot beside you. You never pushed for him to speak but eventually he began responding to your idle chatter, until he found himself opening up and talking about his day—about school, about people who annoyed him, about books he liked. Something about you was easy to talk to, you listened with interest, asking questions when needed, and even occasionally talking about your own daily life, which he found oddly… validating. You didn’t treat him like a child and you were smart enough that you could keep up with him. 

Soon, it became a routine. Titus and your dog would charge off together the moment their paws hit the grass, while you and Damian claimed your usual spot beneath the shade. Sometimes you talked. Sometimes you didn’t. Either way, it worked.

Damian had always found it difficult to spend time with kids his age. He didn’t understand them—and frankly, they didn’t understand him. They were loud, immature, easily distracted. The only exception had ever been Jon, and even then, their bond had been forged under very specific circumstances. Neither of them had to hide who they were. They were both born into the life of heroes but And even then, their friendship was… unconventional at best.

Damian rarely connected, even among the other young heroes His surly personality, sharp tongue, and rigid discipline kept most of them at arm’s length. Jon, ever the optimist, was the rare outlier—a ball of sunshine who somehow wormed his way past Damian’s walls with unwavering sincerity. 

You were something entirely different. A civilian. Someone completely outside the world he’d grown up in, that he began considering as a friend.

But, of course, with a family like his, someone was bound to find out eventually. Damian had done his best to keep this to himself—this quiet corner of his life that belonged only to him. He changed his routes, downplayed his outings, gave vague answers when asked where he’d been.

Still, everyone had started to notice the change.

Subtle things, at first. The way he stopped groaning every time he was told to take Titus out. The way he came back from his walks with less tension in his shoulders. He wasn’t snapping as much. Wasn’t muttering under his breath with the same venom he usually reserved for Gotham’s general population.

So when Dick insisted on tagging along one weekend—something about “needing fresh air” and “brotherly bonding”—Damian should’ve known his secret was on borrowed time. His friend, his quiet routine, his piece of normalcy… it was no longer going to be just his.

Still, he thought he’d pulled it off. He left early, ditching Dick. He even took the long way around, doubled back twice just to be sure he wasn’t followed. And it worked—he made it to the park alone. What he hadn’t expected was that Dick would show up anyway. 

“Hey, Dami!”

Damian tensed mid-sentence, shoulders going rigid as if preparing for an ambush. You glanced up in time to see the source of the disruption. With a coffee in one hand, and a leash in the other, the man beamed brightly. An adorable grey puppy trotted beside him, ears bouncing with every step, tongue lolling out in sheer delight. Her leash was slack—more of a formality than a necessity.

Taking a moment to study the man himself, he was tall, handsome, and fit, with bright eyes and a golden grin. There was an easy confidence to him, an effortless charm that told you he was a people person…right up until he saw you.

And then he just—froze.

You offered a polite, amused smile. “You must be his brother.” 

You’d heard Damian complain about his brothers enough to make a pretty solid guess. Drake and Thomas were still juniors—too young to be this guy—and from everything Damian had said about Todd, he sounded more like the leather-jacket, punch-first type. This guy? He was too put-together. Too clean-cut. Too… sunny. Which really only left one option.

Grayson. The apparent golden boy.

Beside you, Damian sighed loudly, rubbing his temples like this entire interaction was causing him physical pain. “Unfortunately.”

Dick blinked. “I—uh—hi. I’m Dick.” He caught the raised brow you gave him and immediately flushed, a faint pink blooming across his cheeks. “Richard. Grayson. Dick Grayson. That’s me.”

“…Right,” you said, lips curving into a slightly wider smile. 

Damian didn’t have to look at you to know. He could already feel the secondhand embarrassment crawling up his spine like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He was going to commit fratricide. Right here. In broad daylight.

Meanwhile, you let your gaze drop to the ball of grey fluff at his side, her tail wagging lazily as she sprawled out across the grass like she owned the park.

“And who’s this?” you asked, your tone cooeing.

Dick followed your gaze, smile brightening instantly. “Haley,” he said warmly. “She’s still a bit of a mischief maker, but we’re working on it.”

As if on cue, Haley let out a happy little yip and rolled onto her back, paws curled in the air, clearly angling for attention. You laughed, reaching down to scratch her belly, and she kicked her legs like she’d just won the lottery.

Titus and your dog trotted over from where they’d been playing nearby, drawn by the sight of the unfamiliar puppy. Their postures were relaxed, tails wagging in casual curiosity as they circled around to greet her. Dick crouched down and unclipped Haley’s leash without hesitation, giving her a soft pat on the side.

“Go on, sweetheart,” he murmured.

Haley didn’t need to be told twice. With a delighted bark, she bounded forward to meet the others. Within moments, the three dogs were weaving around each other in playful loops, tails high and tongues lolling, a flurry of paws and joyful energy filling the open stretch of grass.

Pushing past his momentary embarrassment, Dick dropped onto the bench beside you without being asked, angling his body a little too fully in your direction. His smile was quick to return, all easy charm and boyish confidence.

“So,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’re the mysterious dog park friend. I’ve heard… absolutely nothing about, because apparently someone likes to keep secrets.”

You chuckled, casting an amused glance at Damian. “I didn’t realize I was being kept a secret.”

“You weren’t,” Damian snapped, a little too quickly and defensively. “But my brothers are like rabid dogs who I didn’t want scaring you off.”

Dick raised his eyebrows, clearly amused instead of offended. “Scaring her off? What, do we bark too loud or something?”

You snorted. “The more important question is, do you bite?”

“Only when threatened,” Dick said with a wink. Then he leaned in just a fraction, pitching his voice low enough that, presumably, only you would hear. “Or when asked.”

Your breath caught before you could stop it, the corner of your mouth twitching despite yourself. There was a spark in his eyes, teasing and a little too pleased with himself, and you hated how easily it made heat crawl up the back of your neck.

You were cut off by Damian’s groan as he saw the look you two shared, slumping back against the bench with the kind of dramatized misery usually reserved for Shakespearean death scenes. “You see? This is why I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Aw, come on, Dami,” Dick teased, nudging his little brother with his elbow. “Don’t be like that. It’s not my fault our new friend is cute.”

Your lips parted in surprise, a soft huff of laughter escaping before you could stop it. 

“She is not our friend,” Damian muttered.

You turned toward him, brow arching with interest. “Oh?” you said, drawing the word out, clearly amused. “So what am I?”

Damian opened his mouth, paused, frowned like the question had personally offended him. “You’re… mi—my,” he settled on, vaguely flustered. “My friend. Not his.”

Dick raised his brows, then gave a low chuckle, the sound soft and unbothered. “Hey, no one said she can’t be friends with both of us.”

Then he glanced your way, that familiar glint in his eyes.

“Though I wouldn’t mind being a little more than friends.”

Your heart skipped, just once, and the way his smile deepened told you he noticed your flushed cheeks.

From beside you, Damian huffed, arms crossed tight. “I just didn’t introduce her because I didn’t want you hitting on her,” he grumbled.

Your smile softened as you leaned back against the bench. “Don’t worry, Dami. You’ll always be my favourite.”

He nodded like that settled the matter entirely, posture relaxing ever so slightly as he turned his attention back to the three dogs still tumbling across the grass.

But the moment his gaze was elsewhere, Dick leaned in again, his voice low and smooth.

“What do you say to dinner?” he murmured, the words warm against the air between you. “Give me a chance to change your mind about your favourite.”

You turned your head toward him, brow raised, a smile tugging at your lips. Your eyes flicked to Damian—still fully distracted— before looking back at Dick, biting your lip.

“It’s a date.”

Next Chapter →

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade, to someone trying to flirt with Logan: You're trying to slide into his DM hoping to woo him.

Wade I'm the main topic of his therapy sessions.

Wade: We're not the same.

[heavenbarnes]

I 100% believe that olderbf! Simon lovessss purposely giving hickeys before going out (esp when he brings her out with TF141) so that people knows that she belongs to him 😞 I think maybe we should do the same to him 🥸

YEAH 🥹

it’s impossible not to know that you’re simon’s it’s even down to the way he stands beside you, never far and always with a hand lingering

but he will mark you up so it’s kind of like “if you can see this you’re too close”

if you leave hickeys on him? that man might cream his jeans

seeing you so possessive over him actually makes the blood rush south and he gets lightheaded

[disassemblydragonsau]

What is N's Breath Attacks like? Can he Breath Fire?

Not fire, but dragons do (unfortunately) have a sort of acid 'breath'!

Not exactly graceful, though...

[muzzlkid]

         🪞  —   PAMPERED   PETRE             by   @muzzlkid          requested   by   @bunnelbaby

DEFiNiTiON : A flag for pet regressors who love to be pampered and spoiled. Whether it is due to feeling it's the care one deserves, simple enjoyment, or being able to regress easier, faster, or in a more enjoyable way when being pampered, this flag is for any pet who loves being treated like royalty. Perhaps being a pet is of the utmost importance to the regressor, and being an owner's special pet is part of what makes regression easier or more enjoyable although this certainly does not have to be the case. This may also stem from having a Cluster-B disorder or traits of one though again this is not required. You are welcome to bring your own interpretation of it — all I ask is that it is kept SFW.

F2U ? : Yes. With credits. Do not repost, use without credits, or claim as your own. Feel free to tag me with creations ^_^.

CREDiTS : Lace png by @v6que found here.

[nelkcats]

Ember's Music Emporium

When he became King, Danny had not banned the ghosts from earth but asked them to be discreet, so instead of giving concerts that were extremely flashy, Ember decided to open a music store.

It was complicated to find a good location since she wanted to go far away from Amity, but she was aware that not all cities would accept strangers and it could be dangerous for her if they found out she was a ghost.

Money was not so difficult, Ember had collected several things during her unofficial concerts, among them: cash (besides, Danny was willing to sponsor her if that wasn't enough), and musical instruments were even easier to find as Skulker loved to build them and wanted to help her.

In the end, her little music store set up in Gotham (rusty laws, natural ecto, crazies everywhere and lots of people who looked extremely colorful, she assumed they would take her as one).

She and Skulker worked very hard at turning the dusty place they bought into something nice where everyone was welcome; they also made it a sort of temporary home, seeing as they couldn't go to the Infinite Realms every day.

And everything was a success until someone tried to attack their little business; naturally the ghosts protected it and very soon, a rare scarecrow was hit by one of Skulker's bombs.

It didn't cause much damage but it definitely drew attention. Many tried to attack after this and they kept responding (Skulker much more excited than she was about the whole thing).

But Ember was determined to not call Danny, she was sure they would get scolded about attacking people and not going unnoticed as they promised (although the rude people attacked them first and none of them were dead, or Danny would have come).

When some weird guys in bat costumes started trying to sneak into her humble music store (and they didn't even bother to pretend to be customers like the nice guy in the red helmet), she decided that maybe it was time to call the halfa. Things had gotten a little out of hand.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Whenever fanfiction has Dean say he hates Cas’s coat or thinks it's stupid or ugly and he wants to see Cas out of it as soon as possible I simply must disagree. He kept that thing for a whole year full of rank water. He saw Cas back in his usual getup and gotar bonar. Dean loves cartoons. He loves costumes. He loves Cas’s coat.

[shadystranger]

Im just saying that if sam was a girl dean'd have fucked her from the first episode