#this is getting out of hand

[gorginggamer]

Oops 😬

Guess I've grown a little more then I thought.....

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Congratulations! As per the results of the last poll, you all voted to...

Put Uther in the blender! 🥳

[corkinavoid]

For @ladydoptera, to 'Pomegranate Lips' by Derivakat,

DPxDC Get a Taste

"Password?"

Tim swallows. The eyes in the narrow window of the metal door are plenty familiar, dark violet with black makeup. But knowing who is on the other side doesn't help him in the slightest.

"Going ghost," he says, keeping his voice low. The window slides back shut with a snap - metal over metal, Tim's ears hurt - and then, there's a click, a snap, and the door opens.

A girl in a creatively ruined but still somehow stylish gothic lolita dress is standing in front of him. She looks taller than usual, and when Tim looks down, he knows why - those platforms must be at least four inches, how does she even walk in those?

"Welcome, McFly," Sam's dark red lips curve in a smirk that looks just a bit too smug on her. Also, to this day, Tim has no idea why she picked that nickname for him.

He steps inside, and the heavy door slams shut behind him, leaving them both in complete darkness. Or, Tim thought so until he looks a little closer and notices how Sam's violet eyes are faintly glowing - not enough to light the way, but enough to raise a few questions.

Questions that Tim is not going to ask.

Yet.

"Follow me," the girl says, her voice on the brink between annoyed and amused, and starts walking away through the narrow hall. Tim does his best to follow; his eyes are adjusting to the darkness, albeit slowly.

However, the walk doesn't last long - ten or so steps later Sam pushes another door, and-

The closest thing Tim can describe it as is a rave, of all things. Loud, rhythmic music that thrums through his whole body, strobes and bright green lights everywhere, and people, hundreds of them, dressed in all kinds of things. Tim freezes in the doorway, struggling to take in the sight.

A woman in a Victorian dress is dancing with what looks to be a werewolf in prison robes. A child just threw a one-eyed parrot at a man in a black tie suit. A knight of plated armor is waving a sword around, seemingly arguing with-

"Keep your mouth closed," Sam's finger taps his chin from below, and Tim shuts it back closed with a snap. Right, he's got no time to gawk, he is here on a mission. But, when he looks back to Sam, his mind comes to a screeching halt yet again.

"How'd you-" he starts, looking at how the girl's skin, usually pale and almost white, is glittering with small lines of blood red runes. They are not tattoos, or at least Tim doesn't think so because they move, like tiny snakes or vines over her skin.

"Nope, not answering," Sam clicks her tongue and rolls her eyes, her perfectly sharp eyeliner getting a deep, dark red hint as well, "I don't owe you shit."

With that, she turns around and starts weaving through the crowd, leaving Tim no choice but to follow.

The music is nearly crushing his eardrums. The crowd should feel suffocating - Tim knows it usually does in places like these - but somehow it doesn't. What's more, it feels cold. So cold, in fact, that goosebumps run over Tim's skin.

However, just as he feels like they are completely lost in this freezing, neverending sea of faces and figures, Sam stops. Tim almost runs into her back, actually, but, just as he is about to ask her why, she steps to the side and gestures for Tim to go ahead.

And Tim... Tim can't move a muscle.

There's a corner booth in front of him, with red velvet seats and more than a few dozen drinks, empty and full, on the table in the middle. Some of the liquids are glowing toxic, unnatural colors, and in the back corner of his mind, Tim still remembers why he's here. He is investigating, right. Which includes meeting the owner of 'Afterlife' face to face, yeah. Something about a new drug on the streets of Gotham, probably.

Tim can't concentrate.

The guy lazily sitting at the table, with hair so white that it's nearly glowing and his pale skin shimmering with highlighter on his cheekbones, causes Tim's mind to completely bluescreen. Because the unbuttoned black suit with embroidered stars and an open white shirt underneath, the neon blue, faintly glowing cold eyes, and blood red lips stretched in a dangerous smile - that's thankfully is not directed at him - are all... Too much.

Not blood red, actually. It's a different color, but Tim can't remember the name.

He can barely remember his own name, to be honest.

"Oi, Danny," Sam snaps her fingers in the air, and the ethereal being blinks, tearing his unblinking gaze away from the man in a white suit sitting across from him to look at her. Then, his eyes slide to Tim, and, okay, he thought he was well past the gay panic stage of his life, but apparently not.

The guy - the god? because only divine fucking things have the right to look so otherworldly pretty, in Tim's opinion - tilts his head to the side slightly, a curious edge to him. And then he smiles, nice and a little sly, but Tim can't shake off the feeling of sharp danger that runs through his spine.

Pomegranate, that's the color.

Bite it once, and you will never leave the Underworld.

"Can I help you, little bird of crimson color?" The ethereal owner of the most mysterious place in Gotham asks without raising his voice, and yet Tim can hear him despite the loud music around.

...Maybe he doesn't mind never leaving, if he can get a taste.

~•~•~•~

When I put that song on for the first time, I was like, that's Sam. That's so Sam. But then I started writing, and things got weird, so it's both Sam and Danny now.

Tim is so gone, I'm sorry, RIP Tim. Funny thing is, he barely said a single word throughout the whole piece.

[hehearse]

[draculasfavoritewife]

Distracted

Summary: When Frank calls you during a mission after an extended period of radio silence, what could possibly make him break his own no-contact rule?

Pairing: Frank Castle x fem!Reader

Warnings: Some language; this is practically just phone sex in every way except for me explicitly stating so ;)

I think I just need to accept at this point that my Frank fics will always get away from me in the end. This one started on the 🤭 side of the scale and by the time I reached the end it had somehow reached unprecedented levels of 🥵. In any case, I love the idea of normally taciturn Frank missing talking to reader and just calling her up out of the blue to tell her that. And then I guess everything just devolved from there, as it so often does.

When you answered your phone, your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape from your body right through your chest wall.

He never called.

Had something gone so horribly wrong that he needed to say goodbye?

"Frank?!"

"Hey there, pretty girl." His voice sounded bone-tired, but warm with affection, and your panic started to subside. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," you had murmured. "You just know how I worry."

"I do." The rough laugh on the other side of the line turns your insides into a melting mess. "Just needed to hear my girl's voice for a minute. Long day."

You lie back on the bed again, letting out a quiet breath of relief.

"I miss you, tough guy."

He hums wordlessly in acknowledgement, and you can imagine him settling back against a wall somewhere, finally letting his overexerted body relax.

"Tell me what you're wearing?"

He sounds softer now, almost a little hesitant. "I wanna picture what you look like right now."

Heat rushes to your face. "Nothing special. Just one of your shirts I uh...'borrowed'. I hope that's okay."

There's silence for a moment on the other end, then a sharp hissing sound that you imagine must be him sucking in a breath between his teeth.

"Shit, baby, lookin' like that without me there to see it? You know how I feel about you wearin' my stuff. Goddammit."

You smile and stroke the threadbare fabric between your fingers. "I know, Frank, I'm sorry. But it smells like you, and I missed you so bad today. It helps me sleep at night when you're not here with me."

He chuckles softly, a deep rumbling that you feel all the way in the pit of your chest even through the phone's less-than-ideal sound quality. "Alright, alright. Which one?"

"Black. Slightly thicker fabric, buttoned collar." You tap the worn-smooth buttons with your fingertips as you say the words, an unconscious fidgeting habit.

"That old one with the holes in the sleeves?" He's way too good at this, guessed exactly which piece you would've taken refuge in during his absence.

"Damn, Frank," you breathe out, shocked at his accuracy. "How'd you tell?" He does own at least four different shirts that match the brief description you'd given.

You hear him grunt, probably a blend of approval and the soreness that comes from doing god-knows-what for the past few days. "You like that one. Only reason it's still in the closet, to tell the truth. Would've thrown it out a long time ago otherwise."

A flood of memories rushes through your mind: cuddling up to him, in bed, on the couch, his hands in your hair and his lips brushing your forehead, warm and safe in the folds of this very same shirt. "I'm really glad you kept it, then."

"I am too." A long sigh, and the rustling sounds of his large body shifting position. "Your hair up or down?"

The warmth rapidly returns to your face. Is what you think is happening actually happening?

You wouldn't have guessed Frank was an over-the-phone kind of guy, he prefers to be hands-on in every aspect of his life, but the two of you had spent so much time together lately, maybe the separation is getting to him, too.

"It's down. I took a shower earlier and wanted to let it air dry for a bit." Your voice comes out soft, vulnerable as you answer him and lean further into the pillows behind you.

"Mmm. You know if I was there I'd help you get all the tangles out, yeah?"

You shiver at the thought of his big hands in your hair, those long, dexterous fingers patiently combing their way through, their passage sometimes halting where your comb had missed a spot. "You say that now, Castle, but how do I know you wouldn't be putting more tangles in?"

His taken-off-guard laugh rasps in your ear. "Hey now, you watch that pretty mouth of yours. Don't taunt me like that." A brief moment of consideration, a heavy pause as he imagines you on top of him, that damn shirt swallowing your figure and your teasing face looking down into his. "Maybe I would."

"Thought so." You stick the fingers of your free hand through the aforementioned holes in his shirt. "I hate this bed, Frankie."

"Yeah? Why's that? Don't be a smartass now, I practically built that bed for you."

"It's too big and empty without you." You channel all of the sad, bratty tone you can possibly muster into that simple sentence.

"Christ."

You're not quite sure if the strain you hear running beneath his voice comes from exhaustion or something else you're starting. "My girl's lonely there all by herself, huh?"

"Yeah. I need you to come back, Frank."

"Shit, I know, Sweetheart. I know. I need you, too." His breath hitches, barely noticeable but you know him, and you catch it.

"You lonely without me too, tough guy?"

He hums, a non-answer, deliberately drawing the conversation out. "Look, I like bashing faces in as much as the next guy, but the people I'm after are a little bit lacking in the affection department."

You put the phone down, switching it to speaker mode and settling into a better position. "So you're touch-starved, is what I'm hearing."

You know he must be scowling and shaking his head at the accusation on the other end of the line. "Nah, I wouldn't say that, exactly --"

"Well I am." Your admission comes out as little more than a breathy sigh. "Do you have any idea how hard that is?"

He only snorts at that, and you feel gratified that the implication landed.

"I can't even watch TV at night without wishing your hand was here resting on my thigh like usual," you tell him wistfully.

A long, huffed-out exhale precedes his next words, and you grin wickedly at the sound. "Yeah, Sweetheart. I miss how you count all my scars when we're just lyin' in bed and neither of us can sleep."

"You got any new ones for me?"

The unsteadiness is completely impossible to keep out of your own voice now as you close your eyes, remembering how it feels when his hands are the ones touching you instead.

"Probably." A sharp intake of air interrupts him for a brief moment. "Not gonna tell you where, though. I'll let you find 'em all on your own when I get back."

Your entire body shudders violently at such an invitation. "I will, Frankie. I'll find all of your new scars, I promise. I'll kiss 'em for you, too -- maybe even bite 'em, if they're in good places."

"Shit."

There's a sudden vacuum left in the air between you after his sharply spat expletive, only the uneven rhythm of two people dozens of miles apart trying to catch their breath breaking the delicate silence. You pick your phone up again and bring it close to your face so you can hear his breathing right in your ear; if you keep your eyes shut, you can almost imagine he's right there in the bed with you.

"You're dangerous, you know that," he mutters after a bit. "Got me all distracted out here like some asshole amateur."

"Hey, you called me," you point out, warmth pouring into your contrary words. "I know you're not completely naive, Castle."

"Ah, get off my ass. Was a momentary lapse in judgement, s'all. Happens to the best of us."

"Mmhmm." You trace a small heart on the blanket next to the phone. "Right. Well, you better get back here soon then, and avoid any more mistakes like this, huh?"

"I will." His promise is gentle, but steel-hard with sheer conviction underneath.

"Won't be long, baby girl. Can't wait to have you with me for real again."

[pedripics]

not even the team's photographer is safe 😭

[lateatnewyork]

Hi lovely! First of all: your writing is amazing. You have a huge potential, keep up your good work! I'm proud of you. Listen, of courseee now that I've flattered you I need to request something xD

SO! I was thinking maybe fluff prompt 11 with Azriel. Like it would be their first pregnancy together and Azriel took some time off from missions to spend time with you? He's being super protective and all, always having a protective hand over the reader's belly- you get the idea. And like they would be laying on the couch and he would just randomly whiff of the reader's scent filled with her pregnancy hormones and be like, delighted with the scent? It was just an idea I had: I figured you would be able to make it into beautiful words. Like always.

Take care!

Babies

Azriel x Rhysand sister!reader

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, suggestive

Prompts: N/A

Summary: It’s your first pregnancy and Az is being an overprotective mate. But you love it.

a/n dude i literally love @azsazz for all her dad!azriel fics also i don’t think ultrasound pictures are a thing in acotar so bare with me, i hope you don’t mind i didn’t include prompt 11 i just didn’t think it fit into the story.

“You’re pregnant,” Madja’s voice rang through my ears.

“Pregnant, that can’t be” I whisper. “Y/N my dear it turns out you are really fertile, more so than normal fae females,”

“I’m having a baby,” I mumble out, “I need to tel Azriel, when should I see you next?”

It wasn’t as if Azriel and I hadn’t talked about children. Fuck we had come up with baby names before all of this. So why was I so nervous as I waited for Az to come home.

Madja had given me a picture of the babe. I had it laid on a table with a cake that said “You’re gonna be a dad”.

The time seemed to pass slower, the clock’s ticking dimmed. I could hear the songs of the birds returning for the night, see the sunset pour into the room.

The door clicked, and I practically jumped out of my seat and rushed to the open it. I think I gave Azriel a heart attack with how quickly, I opened the door and pounced on him. He reciprocated my actions with a searing kiss.

“Hi,” I whisper against his lips, he chuckles and shuts the door, making sure to lock it. “What’s gotten you so excited?” he asks.

“I have a surprise for you in the kitchen,” I murmur my mind still hazy from the kiss.

“Oh you do?” he smirks. Rolling my eyes, I jump off and grab his hand, “It’s not that kind of surprise,”.

Guiding him by his arm, I drag him towards the kitchen. Standing on my tippy toes, my hand goes to cover his eyes right before we enter the kitchen.

I look around at the swirls of black surrounding both Az and I’s torsos. Leaning down, I whisper “Don’t tell him anything,”.

As if they hear me they frantically move up and down as if saying yes.

Taking a deep breath in, we walk into the kitchen. Reluctantly pulling my hand away from his face, I look at him in anticipation of his reaction.

His eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings, he looks at the picture of the babe in my stomach, then his eyes wonder to the cake. He takes in the words written on the cake.

Turning around he gapes at me.

“We’re having a- you’re not joking right?” he says frantically. Unable to form words I shake my head as a no.

Within seconds, he’s picked me up and he’s twirling me around in the air.

I shriek at first but then it dies down into a soft smile as I see how happy he is. Once he’s put me down on the ground, he kneels and pulls up my shirt.

“Mummy and Daddy love you so much” he kisses my belly.

Halfway through my pregnancy, Azriel forced Rhysand to let him off until the babe was born. He spent every waking moment with me, making sure I was drinking enough water, eating enough food and stuff like that.

The pregnancy made him more protective, he growled at every single male he saw, that looked at me. But seeing the fearsome spymaster, on his knees kissing my belly or holding my belly from behind to relieve me of some of the pain was all worth it.

He had cried the day the babe’s scent finally came. He had promised me that he would be the best father ever. Not that I had any doubt about it.

I stayed at home mostly, to satisfy Azriel and also because no one wants to walk around a lot when you’re so close to your due date.

That’s why I was currently lying on top of Azriel, my back pressed against his chest as he read me one of the books Nesta had given me.

But all I could focus on was his voice. A rich melody filling the room like a sweet song. I shuffled against him.

He took a deep breathe, taking in the scent of the babe. And my pregnancy hormones. The second they hit his senses, he let out a deep growl that went straight down my spine to my heated core.

I carefully twisted around so I could kiss him. His soft lips pressed against mine, sent me into a frenzy. The way his arms grazed up my shorts and down the arms of my sleeveless top.

“Az,” I whine against his mouth, “Don’t be a tease,”.

“I would never dream of it my love,” he says grinning.

My hormones swapped out for a droopy feeling. I yawned against his chest. He chuckled and kissed my head. Going back to reading, he drew mindless circles on my exposed shoulder. And finally for the first time in days the babe had finally let me sleep.

“You and our daughter are my heart, darling” and that’s the last thing.

Cassian had barged into the living room of the couple’s new house. “How’s my favourite sister in la-”.

Azriel tells him to shut up as he motions to the sleeping figure on top of him. “Sorry,” Cassian winces.

Just seconds later Rhysand stomps into the room, “Where’s my sister?” he asks as he looks over at Cassian. “Don’t be too loud you’re going to wake the demon,” he whispers pointing over at Azriel and I. Lifting up my middle finger, I aim it towards Cassian and then mutter out a “Fuck you” loud enough for them to hear.

“Althea doesn’t like you, Rhys” I say, giggling.

“Oh and how would you know that sister dear?” He says with a roll of his eyes.

Just as I’m about to answer, I get interrupted.

“Althea is such a pretty name,” Cassian squeals.

“Yes we know, now get out” Azriel sighs exasperatedly.

They start protesting but I cut them off, “Either get out or bring me some cake,”.

As they walk out Cassian mutters under his breath, “Demon,”

“I heard that!”

a/n hope you liked this anon! dad!az just holds a special place in my heart 🫶🏻

[not-even-full-genius]

*Trips falls and dies*

Ancient Greece Tony! (Because the Au got out of hand and now I have to draw everyone in ancient Greek clothes.)

I'm not okay. (The eyes look weird)

@under0-0s @tony-stark-official @tonystark-techgenius @theironcan @i-am-iron-man @tonystark-official @officialironman you should see it.

[gnometa233]

There are two Michael B Jordan's in sinners and yet the majority of fics in the sinners tag are still thirsting over the racist white vampire who's trying to assimilate everybody. What the hell.

[bookobbsesedgirly]

was it casual when i added your timezone on my clock app so I could know when to text you?

[shadowwolfmemes]

Bruh

Now bro is trying to scare me off the internet by sending IRL gore in my DM's. I'm not going to show it because I obviously don't want to get smited off Tumblr, but it was pretty bad.

@8iid I know you're trying to scare me, but you're gonna have to do more than that to get me to permanently delete my account.

@rainbow-starheart @starcrezt @ilovepeachplssm

[ivegottheconch222]

First proper post!

hullo everyone on lotf tumblr! This is my first proper post aside from my Puterboy1 jumpscare post. But ya enjoy these doodles and drawings 😛

I did that emotions thing and I also tried replicating the Schooling Online artstyle 😋

(Also ignore Piggy's bum)

[starlight-bread-blog]

Okay I'm gonna go full conspiracy, but some of y'all are way worse so I'm doing this. Listen up. Will Byers and Mike Wheeler are fictional characters. Meaning, that everything they do, everything they think and yes, everything they feel has a purpose. So let's look at the facts as they are. Mike couldn't tell El that he loves her, and Will is in love with Mike. Right off the bat, with Will, this fact could lead to two things:

Mike is also in love with Will, and there will be a love triangle with Mike in the middle.

Mike is not in love with Will, and Will will either end up alone, or die, or find another queer boy to love.

With scenario 1, everything is fine. But although on paper, scenario 2 makes sense, we should take into account that everything that Will feels is a carefully thought out decision.

Let's remember the themes and the message of Stranger Things. This show is about the freaks of society, the losers, the outcasts. How people may l give them the side eye, but they have each other. And they'll stand by each other no matter what. So, how does this relate to Will and Mike? Will is a gay boy in the 80s, which not only makes him an outcast, but an outright freak in the eyes of the public. It would go against Stranger Things' message to write a freak trying to find love in his best friend, the one who's supposed to be by his side forever, and having him rejected. In real life, this would not be a problem. If someone is straight, they're straight. But in fiction, the sexuality and or love interest of a character is again, a choice with ramification on the quality of the story. And writing Will, a "freak", having his heart broken by someone who he considered another freak, when you're telling a story about how freaks empower each other by sticking together, is not a smart writing decision.

(There is also the matter of the van scene, where Will's supposedly unrequited feelings are being used to repair El and Mike's relationship, as Will cries over not being able to be with Mike. In other words, if Mike isn't in love with Will, the outcast's suffering is used to fix what's more socially acceptable. Do you see the problem? I don't know how many times I'm going to repeat myself in this post, and I hope it's not getting annoying, but I need to make this as crystal clear as possible: Fiction is not real life. In real life, a gay boy could use some words of affirmation regardless of how they feel, it's just being nice. But in fiction, you have a job to do. You have a story to tell. You have a message you want to put out into the world. And this scene is not compatible with the message).

But let's look at Mike. In season 4, El confronts Mike about him not telling her that he loves her. And throughout that whole scene, not even once, does he just say that he loves her. In the end he does, but the reason as to why he stopped saying it, or why he didn't say it when she confronted him, is never explained. In real life, it's okay if Mike wants to deal with whatever he feels and the reasons behind it with himself. But this is not real life, this was deliberately written to be understood by an audience. It was written to serve a purpose. Mike not being able to tell El that he loves her was a serious conflict in season 4, and the cause behind it is left unknown. This is bad writing, plain and simple. Unless, there is some other factor we are not yet aware of. Unless, he could possibly have feelings for someone else. Maybe that someone is Will.

With that theory in mind, remember when Will and Mike met after a long time of not seeing each other? Will was gonna hug Mike, but Mike just went for a fist bump. There was a very awkward atmosphere in that moment. Why would there be? Once again, I'm not talking about real life. In real life, it could just be awkward because they haven't talked to each other in a while and Mike needs time to adjust. But this is fiction. Every emotion has a purpose, every bit leads to something. And so far, it led to nothing. There was just one awkward moment, with no explanation, and it's never brought up again. There is no reason for it to be there. It's common knowledge that unnecessary story bits shouldn't make it to the final cut. If this wouldn't be expanded upon in some way, it'd be bad writing. It wouldn't be the worst thing to ever happen, but combined with him not being able to tell El that he loves her, it's all very confusing to say the least. But the story is not over, and maybe, all will be explained. And just maybe, that awkwardness could be described as tension between the two. Maybe Mike is in love with Will. That would be the most logical explanation.

[bruisedboys]

okay but peacekeeper!sejanus lovveesss when you scratch his scalp … because like, he’s sort of insecure about his buzzed hair? because he always loved his curly hair and he’s not used to how he looks without it. but when you scratch his scalp and call him handsome he’s like oh <3 never mind <33 and he gets all blushy and cute

[screwtapeletters15]

I’m new around here, but I do have this one question: is this Merlin obsession gonna go away anytime soon or…

Please send help, because it’s been years and this show still has me in a chokehold

[chrysoprine]

Ianthe Naberius my beloved.