crew titles

Why is blood red?

There is a scientific answer, but it is a cold one.
Cold like ice. Hard like steel. Unfeeling.
It reflects nothing of the blood itself.

Blood, which is —
Warm, like fire. Fluid, like water.
Red, like anger. Passion. Fury. Love.


Yes, that is why.
It is the emotion of the body,
the language of the soul,
the tears of the flesh, of the heart.
For when you strike it cruelly enough,
it weeps, it cries, it burns.

A burn that screams:
and demands you stay that way.
—  in us, there is liquid fire | m.a.w
The Gang Saves a Detective Named Luna

Summary: It’s date night but I guess Miles is going to be a no-show. 

In which Miles gets kidnapped and the crew has to save their boy’s boy.

Pairing: Michael Jones/Miles Luna

A/N: I’ve been obsessed with lunael thanks to @thilesluna and her fic TGMADNL, so with her permission (and her idea) I wrote a fic very loosely based off of it.


“It’s date night Geoff, I can’t do jobs tonight,” Michael says as he leans against the kitchen counter, on his phone.

“Not you too,” Geoff grumbles. “All you dicks are planning dates on the same day just to fuck with me aren’t you?”

“To be fair, we’ve planned this nearly two weeks ago. I can’t speak for everyone else though.”

“I’m making a spreadsheet just for dates. You all have to give me a one-week notice for any dates. That way you can’t use them as excuse to get out of jobs.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll still find ways to get out of jobs,” Michael smirks and Geoff grumbles.

“I have the laziest employees in the world. Do you know how many people would jump to take a job from me? I swear you are-“

Michael’s phone goes off, cutting Geoff off. Michael looks down at it and a smile stretches across his face at the name that flashes on the screen, the hearts in his eyes evident to even Geoff.

Geoff huffs and rolls his eyes at him. “Go talk to your boyfriend. But if I catch you having phone sex again, I’m banning your phone from the penthouse.”

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that girl isn’t fire, or steel, or ice;
she is the warmth of morning rays,
the softness of freshly-spun silk,
and the slow ebb of gentle rainfall.
her edges aren’t jagged and sharp like yours,
but smooth and rounded; a stone unmarred
by the cruelties of a world that would fashion it
into a weapon, into a monster.
(into you.)

she is no warrior, but something far more rare.
those beautiful eyes have seen the ugliest things
within you, and she has never looked away.
those delicate hands cradled your heart,
never minding the threatening thorns it bore.
she could have crushed it, could have broken it,
could have held it hostage or torn it apart.
instead, she brought it up to her lips and kissed,
smiling with blood running down her chin:

‘if you are made of thorns my dear,
then i will be your flower petals—’
—  and together we shall become a rose | m.a.w

Golden Boy calls them gods, 

 Laughs as ichor escapes 

His veins. The rest will scoff 

But will not disagree. Their 

 City lives in fear of them, 

And really, what is a god 

But someone who holds 

The power of life and 

Death in their hands?

Golden Boy forgets what 

It means to die, gilds his 

Hands in crimson blood and 

Calls himself immortal. He 

Sweeps through the city and 

Nothing can touch him; 

Death is but the last truth 

His silver tongue will twist.

Golden Boy cups the city 

In his palms and wishes 

 He was Midas. He settles 

For the orange-gold of 

Flames. He is not a king 

But something divine, and 

 He laughs as he watches 

His worshippers burn.

He does not mean to be 

Cruel, but he is so full 

 Of holiness, there is no 

 Room left for mercy.

- vengeful gods demand sacrifice, A.B

Home, he says,
and thinks four-cent apples and six-cent eggs,
and thinks unreliable heat and two beds pushed together,
and thinks dance halls and big bands and steps he never knew.

Home, he says,
and thinks skinny shoulders and oversized shirts,
and thinks bright blue eyes and a wide grin,
and thinks red lipstick and perfect dark curls.

Home, he says,
and thinks gone
and thinks lost
and thinks nowhere.

—  You say you are home but your eyes are so far away (j.p.)
Lindsay The Psychologist

Lindsay was always true to her word, and in an attempt to get to know Michaels family better, she endeavoured to spend more time with his two brothers. This meant eating with them during their lunch breaks, hanging out after school and the all-important heists.

The most startling thing which Lindsay noticed during her time with the Fake Ah Crew was that the boys were incredibly dependant on each other.

Lindsay was convinced that if Ray didn’t have Michael and Gavin he would be totally content with avoiding any and all social interactions. His brothers drew his attention away from his games and made him feel more comfortable about talking to others.  She suspected that if it wasn’t for Michael, Ray wouldn’t even spare her a second glance.

Gavin seemed utterly dependant on the attention and approval that he received from his brothers, particularly Michael. It seemed like a joke wasn’t worth saying if Michael hadn’t thought it was funny.

And then there was Michael, whose occasional bouts of rage could easily be avoided by the distractions which his brothers provided.

Lindsay wasn’t sure how the boys managed to function without each other and in any other family this would be perceived as a rather dysfunctional mechanic. But for them it just seemed to work. She didn’t know the full story, but she knew that all three of the boys had troublesome childhoods and hadn’t had a real family until Geoff took them in. So Lindsay decided not to mention it to them. The co-dependency may seem problematic to outsiders, but she knew that at this point in their lives it was exactly what the lads needed.

Why do people speak so highly of angels
but despise the devil?
Have they forgotten that, he too,
once dined in the great halls of Heaven?
Have they forgotten he was once amongst them?

(He, who was God’s favorite)

I suppose, 
no matter how much humans worship something
it always loses its appeal
when it falls
—  pride and prejudice and angels | d.s.
  • the bi reggie conspiracy (the most vintage one but still going strong)
  • the kevin/reggie conspiracy 
  • the reggie is midge conspiracy 
  • the reggie and ethel conspiracy… conspiracy

I only now realize there seems to be a pattern here

dude, it’s not just this heist, this job;
dude, this is forever

and ever and ever
until we fragment and break against
ourselves and our self-destruction, against
the edges of your world versus mine


bleed out like beach glass not yet weathered,

inexperienced and small,
sharp but not quite so

dude, don’t you see?
we were never meant for anything
except radiance and death i mean,

or till tomorrow.
or the day after,

it’s not like we were ever meant to live!

listen what i mean to say,
what i never told you,
my dude,
my love,

i mean,

(for @slaughtervoid)

I must confess, I’ve made a mess of what should be a small success. 
But I digress, at least I’ve tried my very best!
…I guess.

{ l i s t e n }


Outside of the incredibly intense emotions, one of my favorite aspects of Tomasi & Gleason’s run on Batman&Robin is their use of parallelism and repetition. 

I also really enjoy how this scene specifically shifted, that it was never perfect repetition, but close enough that the symbolism of the moment could easily be understood and felt.

I will never be able to thank nor convey to patrickgleason and the crew how much this title meant to me. So I guess I’ll just be forever stuck talking about it to anyone who will listen, sporadically making analytic comparison posts about my favorite moments and potentially getting a firefly or quote tattoo and excitedly anticipating Robin: Son of Batman instead.

Thanks a million times over Pete, Pat, Mick and John! For everything!

[left, #1; center, #17; right, #40]

when “everything” isn’t enough

Post 5x20, Captain Swan, Emma and Snow, Snowing ♥

“But I believe in true love, you know? I don’t believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does.”

John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

It’s the first thing she notices as they make their way into the loft.

The heaviness, the feeling of failure strangling them all, but most of all Emma, and the sorrow which makes her throat tight.

No words are exchanged as her family walks into their home, and Snow White feels the bitterness of tears burning her eyes.

He’s gone.

They all seem so dumb, sorrow driving them mute and she knows their mind are still in the Underworld, she knows they can all still smell the poisonous smoke and Killian’s scent.

David brings her back to reality as he presses a kiss on her forehead, and she hears his plea, his please Snow do not cry, not now, the benefits of sharing a heart…

The thought makes her sick, and she quickly covers her face to hide the tears in the corner of her deep green eyes.

“I’m sorry, I need a minute.”

The words escort her to the bathroom, where bandit Snow, so brave Snow, flees.

“You didn’t find him ?” Grumpy’s word resonate in her head as she lays in the cold room, knees pressed together, the guilt devastating her face.

“Worst.” she hears herself mutter. “I lost him.”

She muffles a sob with a towel, back pressed to the door.

She’s perfectly aware that everyone knows that she’s crying her eyes out in the bathroom, that Snow White isn’t strong, Snow White has lost a member of her family.

Snow White knows her daughter will never heal from this, and Snow White has no fucking idea how to deal with it.

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