strangles-self

Bad Nights

Summary: When a rough night gets to be too much, and he doesn’t want to go home, Dick decides to crash at the nearest safe house in order to treat his injuries and get his head on straight. Of course it’s just his luck that there’s already a little brother there. And it looks like his bad night is about to get worse. Day 4 of batfam week

ao3 | ff.net


Dick was pissed.

And not in the someone made me angry and I’m gonna go pound a punching bag until it’s dust kind of pissed. More like if I don’t scream my lungs out I will explode kind of pissed. It almost felt like frustration tinged with bright spots of righteous anger. The sort of feelings he liked to keep bottled up until he could take them out on criminals. He hated feeling like this.

But the scariest part was what was hiding underneath the anger.

He let out a strangled yell, punching—and denting—a light pole as he staggered out of the alley. The metal bent upon impact with his gloved fist, and Dick didn’t even feel the least bit sorry. Served the stupid light pole right.

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I wrote a Rylex fic

Alex woke up with a bad case of cotton mouth, his eyes sticky from sleep. He smacked his lips a couple times, stretching his arms above his head and stretching his legs across the bed. His spine popped a few times, making him moan happily. When he rolled over on his side, eager to sneak in a few more hours of sleep, he found half of the bed unmade, like someone had been there and just gotten up. Moments later, the toilet flushed, making the apartment’s piping shudder and groan, and the bathroom door opened. Just from the footfalls alone, Alex knew who it was.
Did he…?
No.
There was no way.

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anonymous asked:

POV of Namjoon in 5 months? Whatever scene you want

I ended up not choosing any particular scene but what happened immediately after.  I hope that’s okay!


 It took surprisingly little convincing on Namjoon’s part for you to be content with your messy, tangled, and hopelessly knotted hair after you pulled out all the now useless bobby pins.  Once he had put his suit jacket back on and wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck he had positioned himself behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist as he watched you in the mirror.  It felt comfortable having you in his arms, like the nostalgic relief that hits after a long lost item is finally found.  His chest was pressed against your back and when he got the chance after your arms stopped fussing with your hair he landed a kiss on your neck.  “I have really missed you,” he whispered into your skin.

“I can tell,” you said with a feigned disinterest but he wasn’t oblivious to the smile that graced your lips.  Your skin was just as soft and warm as he had remembered on the countless evenings that he had spent comparing it to other women.  There was a scent to it, hidden below the musk of the night’s events and the familiar hint of your perfume, that had haunted him while nameless, faceless women crawled around his bed.  He had never identified what it was, your laundry detergent or even your body wash perhaps, but it instantly swept him back to one particular morning.

It was months before you left him and he had been suffering from work related stress that kept him from enjoying a decent night’s sleep.  Hours earlier you had fallen asleep in his bed, after an unceremonious kiss that did little to mask your distaste for the toll his job took on his body, and Namjoon had tried to focus on his work with his laptop perched precariously on his sore and tired legs but you had looked too inviting in the messy cocoon you had created for yourself in his sheets.  

He stared at you in the dim moonlight that shone through his window for far longer than he felt comfortable sharing but found that he really hadn’t thought of anything substantial.  Instead, he marveled at the way your hair fanned around your head and the way it appeared to him to be effortlessly ethereal.  He wondered if there was perhaps some lightbulb he could buy that would mimic the silver moonlight because your skin seemed even more radiant than he had remembered.  And as he crawled into bed, a playful scoff left his lips when he noted that you had stolen all of the covers on the bed to wrap yourself in but it died out quickly when he remembered that you had mentioned you hated sleeping alone.  Suddenly the makeshift cocoon and the warmth it brought with it seemed more upsetting than cute.  

He couldn’t help but remember the last argument the two of you had and how it carried the same words and tones that it always did.  You had expressed your displeasure with his schedule and the lack of time it left for the two of you to be together numerous, perhaps even countless, times before but Namjoon couldn’t see a compromise.  His work was his life.  You were certainly important to him but the truth was that not only did he feel a sense of responsibility to the other members and the company that depended on him, he just plain enjoyed it.  Now, after having been apart from you for five months and not-so-casually checking out your social media updates to try to get some hint of you back into his life, like a ghost he tried to make tangible, he realized that you were more ingrained into his being than he had accounted for and he wished he could strangle his past self until he saw the absurdity of his refusal to compromise.  

It wasn’t until he pulled back the covers (carefully because the only thing worse than you during one of your arguments was you when you were woken up without enough sleep) that the smell hit him.  In your desperation to replace his warmth that was missing in the bed you had perhaps wrapped yourself a little too tightly and had sweat in the sheets.  What struck Namjoon wasn’t disgust with the smell but, curiously, an infatuation with it.  He crawled under the covers to join you, only mildly disgusted with the damp spots in the sheets and the slickness of your skin, and molded himself against your back.  He let his head rest on your shoulder, his nose nuzzled into the hollow of your neck, and he wondered just how long he would be able to enjoy the scent before you inevitably left.  

He wasn’t a stupid man, far from it really.  All the signs were there, the writing on the wall as it were, and yet he maintained his course, certain that he wasn’t in the wrong and your stubborn streak would die out.  Now, after months of regret punctuated by moments of success that felt a little more hollow than he suspected they would if he had a partner to share them with, he was ashamed he had ever been so sure of his innocence.  

“Joonie,” you whispered and pulled him from his thoughts.  

He met your gaze in the reflection of the mirror, his mouth parted and eyes wide.  “Sorry, I just was thinking about something.”

“What were you thinking about?”  You tilted your head to the side and eyed him with a knowing smile.  

“You,” he answered and tightened his arms around your waist to pull you back into his chest.  He could try to compromise but the truth was that his work life had only become busier in the months since you left.  His intentions were pure and true but would it really be enough?  And for how long would you be satisfied?  Had anything really changed at all?  He hooked his chin over your shoulder and inhaled deeply just in case it was all too good to be true and the moment was his last opportunity to remember your scent.

Okay but think of Mark and Rog when you hear the quote: “Be the person your younger self needed”

I see Mark picking up a tiny version of himself with too big glasses, puppy eyes, a quivering lip, and sleeves longer than his arms. I see Mark cradling him close and hugging him as the small child cries into his shoulder. I see him trying to make the poor thing laugh or smile without crying himself because he remembers what his childhood was like and he knows how painful it is to have hateful parents and no friends so young and he’d give anything for this boy to be out of it

and Roger meets his younger self too

but they fucking argue and bicker like cats and dogs

and as Mark has his younger self in his lap, and is fixing his hair, the little one looks up at him with huge eyes and is like “Whose the big man? and why is he arguing with Roggy?”

and Mark smiles, and is like “You’ll understand soon enough-” but he stops and his eyes go wide. “ROGER, FOR CHRIST SAKE, HE’S A LITTLE KID, DON’T PUT HIM IN A CHOKE HOLD!”

and Roger is nearly strangling his past self and screams “HE DESERVES IT! HE’S TOO SASSY FOR HIS OWN GOOD, THE LITTLE SHIT”

And Mark is like “WHERE DO YOU THINK HE GETS IT FROM, ASSWIPE?”

and then little Rog bites big Roger’s arm and latches onto it, and Roger goes running around screaming like a little girl “HE’S GOT RABIES! DEAR GOD, GET IT OFF! MARK! HELP! OW! AHHH!”

and both little Mark and big Mark roll their eyes, facepalm, and groan at the same time

“Makes Perfect” - Kurt/Blaine

Early!Klaine smut.  Kurt wants to bottom, but they both learn the benefit of patience and the right mood when the first time is a spectacular failure.

Contains: fail!sex, bottoming from the top, prostate stimulation.

(Yes, I wrote the thing, iconicklaine!)

The first time Kurt mentions it, they’re halfway through arranging a second batch of oatmeal cookies for the oven.  They’ve been alone all night, but there’s a strange tension between them that has kept Blaine from relaxing, and when Kurt throws his oven mitts down and crosses his arms and puffs out his right cheek with his tongue, Blaine knows he’s about to be told off or shocked or both.  The look on Kurt’s face says I have something to say and I’m going to say it.

Still, he isn’t prepared for what comes out when Kurt finally speaks.

“I want to have sex.” Kurt blushes all the way down to the collar of his shirt. “I want to—receive, I want to be on top, and I want to do it with the lights out.”

Blaine blinks, and then holds up a long wooden spoon. “The timer’s about to go off on that first batch?” He puts down the spoon, picking at a clump of dough stuck to its back. “No more cookies?”

This is not the right thing to say, which Blaine learns as soon as the words leave his mouth and Kurt’s blush goes from an excited sprawl to a blotchy, irritated show of embarrassment.

“Blaine Anderson, unless that’s an objection you will march your butt right up those stairs while I safely pause our baking endeavors and get—ready.”

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Smoulder Chapter 5

@miraculousdays, @artsyfartsyana @xayti enjoyyyyy! ;)

Read on AO3 or FF.NET

The words rang his ears, reverberating through his mind like the sound of a bell, until all Adrien could do was stare.

Pink. Her favourite colour was pink. That’s what she had said. That’s what Ladybug had said too.

It couldn’t be possible. No way would his Lady give him such a big clue, would she? But then, Ladybug didn’t know he was Chat Noir. He sighed inwardly. It was probably just a coincidence. Plagg was right, he really needed to get his head out of the clouds.

“Adrien?” Marinette was staring at him. Evidently, gaping at someone like a brain-dead koi fish was something to cause concern. He shook his head for the second time in mere minutes. ‘concentrate, Agreste’

“Ah- yeah, sorry. Pink, right,” He stammered, but smiled in the hopes of reassuring her, “it’s a good colour. I should have figured actually; you wear it a lot.”

Only when she crossed her arms over herself, did he realise what he said could be seen as an insult. Marinette turned away and, in his haste to correct himself again, Adrien all but leapt forward to place a hand on her shoulder.

“No-not that that’s a bad thing! Actually I think you look great in pink. It’s really suits you,” Adrien grinned, aware that he sounded like the biggest idiot on the planet but too worried about Marinette’s feelings to care. He was starting to think that he didn’t think when he was around her. Maybe he was like that when it came to sweet, smart, pretty girls. Maybe he was like that with just one sweet, smart, pretty girl. Maybe- in his wildest dreams.

All the systems in Marinette’s brain seemed to close up shop for the day, even though it was only nine in the morning. She was pretty sure she was going to start drooling if she didn’t snap herself out it soon. Silence loomed on the horizon, ready to descend upon them and make the situation a million times awkward. If only she could open her mouth and say something. If anything the longer it took, the angrier she became at herself. She was no longer a pathetic middle schooler with a silly crush. She was a pathetic high schooler with a silly crush thank you very much! ‘I should be able to deal with things better by now.’

As luck would have it, their conversation (or lack thereof) was thwarted by a high pitched squeal and the pair simultaneously leapt into fighting stances at the sound. Neither of them noticed the others reaction. Hurrying towards the pair were a gaggle of girls, the ones from earlier, all holding Adrien’s underwear photos up and screaming about wanting his autograph.

Adrien blanched, stepping back slowly, his face growing pale at the sight.

“Shouldn’t those girls be getting to class by now?”

Suddenly feeling a warm grip on his hand, Adrien barely had time to register Marinette’s fingers locking instinctively in his own, before she turned heel and yanked him away from the girls. The pair raced down the hallway, echoes of their thundering footsteps bounding off of the walls. Other students whipped their heads around at the bizarre sight of the two being chased by Adrien’s rabid fangirls. A few took out their phones but didn’t quite manage to hit record on time, or only managed to snap a few blurry pictures.

When they’d gained a good distance from the screaming girls, Marinette wheeled around a corner, opened an unassuming wooden door and leapt inside. Without a second thought, Adrien hurried in after her. The door slammed shut behind them and Marinette collapsed against it with a sigh.

Dried paint and chalk were the smells that filled the air and, as Adrien’s eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness of the room, he noticed Marinette had hidden them in the art cupboard. Cupboard being a loose term, as it was more of a small room than anything. Metal shelves contained an array of art supplies from acrylics to clay. A broken kiln, door half-off its hinges, resided in the corner. He sucked in a breath, trying to regain air, but found himself near choking on the layers of dust they’d disturbed by entering the room in such a dramatic way.

“Are you ok?” Marinette asked gently and Adrien could hear the light breathlessness of her voice, his heart flipped at the sound. He cringed, remembering why they were hiding in the first place.

“I’m fine. Sorry about that. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

They stared at each other again, wordlessly, before a giggle burst from Marinette’s lips. In an attempt to cover her laughter at the absurdity of the situation, she held her hands over her mouth. But Adrien could see the amusement sparkling in her eyes. His lips stretched into the kind of thin smile that only occurs when you know you probably shouldn’t laugh, but are about to regardless.

“Shh! Shh! They’ll hear us!” Marinette waved her hands even though she continued to laugh.

“I’m sure we can run off again, we make a pretty good team I think. We should consider joining the running club,” Adrien chuckled pressing his palm to his forehead. In any other situation he would have been pretty annoyed by this turn of events. She’d somehow made it fun and exciting, like an adventure. The two intrepid explorers running from the jaws of the frantic jungle cats.

Marinette glowed, too high on adrenaline to feel a sense of shock and awe, too amused to stammer at his praise.

“Adrien!” She gasped, chortling still as she sank further against the door, and Adrien forced back a very impulsive, highly ungentlemanly impulse to press against her in a similar fashion. He blushed and averted his gaze, the smile almost gone from his face. Heat seeped through his blood, darting in-and-out of his arms, his face, his ears. The way she said his name…

‘Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip, get a grip!’ Ignoring the dust in the air, Adrien inhaled through his nose. His thoughts raced, yelled, screamed at him to keep it together and remain calm. But he had a feeling the second he looked into her eyes he’d be lost again. He remembered what she looked like when he was about to kiss her as Chat, the way her favourite colour dashed across her cheek bones and her eyes fluttered lazily, how her lips had parted in anticipation. Against his better judgement, he knew he wanted to see that look again. God what was happening to him?!

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Blind! Marinette pt 2.

I had a few requests to continue my Blind Marinette idea 

Shout out to @aniboboni for giving me the art class idea. If anyone has any prompt ideas, let me know. 

Part 1: http://malibumomner.tumblr.com/post/144482400044/blind-marinette-au-drabble

========


The two men in Marinette´s life were driving her insane.

She considered herself lucky that Chat didn´t treat her differently when they battled, although, she had noticed he tended to choose his words more carefully during a fight. He stopped advising her to ¨look out,¨ rather he suggested more often that  she ¨be careful.¨ He never doubts her abilities, instead, he took the information she gave him and found more ways to be useful to her. He would tap his baton against surfaces to give her vibrations to see. He takes special care to control any sounds he produces, avoiding being too loud so it doesn’t affect her overly sensitive ears.

She appreciates his continued trust, but the thing that baffles her about Chat is his new habit of flirting with Ladybug. Admittedly, she had developed feelings for him early in their partnership, she had fallen for his humor, his courage, his blind faith in her and others. He was such a strong, warm force in life, it was hard not to become infatuated with him.

But he was in love with someone else.

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TG:re ch.57

Okay, I have seen SO many posts criticizing Kaneki for how he’s treated Shuu and Urie during these trying times. They’re saying things like, “He’s doing the same stuff before, isolating himself and acting coldly towards others” or “He doesn’t care about the Quinx anymore”, and I’m like WHAT STORY HAVE YOU BEEN READING??? Kaneki, from part 1 of Tokyo Ghoul has been VERY FUCKING STRANGE. I never appreciated this until recently but EVERYONE who’s positioned themselves around Kaneki has NOT a nurturing or intrinsically benign presence. ESPECIALLY the ghouls. Nishiki Nishio brutalized Kaneki and threatened to kill his best friend in front of him and eat him. What was the consequence for that? Kaneki befriended him and stuck his neck out for him to help save his girlfriend. Was that natural? No. Tsukiyama had no qualms against hurting ANYONE just to eat Kaneki and abide by his fetishistic desire to “eat Kaneki while he ate someone else”. Even his original actions of trying to save Kaneki were done under the guise of just wanting to eat him. What was the consequence of Tsukiyama’s cruelty towards Kaneki? Kaneki offered him companionship and gave him one of his first meaningful relationships with another person that Tsukiyama would only learn to truly appreciate years later. In all those relationships and interactions, the thing being hidden was Kaneki’s pain and fear of being left behind. He would rather stick with people who would victimize him if it suited their desires than be alone to suffer. Kaneki’s dream of wanting to save people was just a derivative of his fear. Immersing himself in the suffering of others was VERY KIND AND NOBLE. But in doing so, he was implicitly stating to himself, “to minimize my trauma and unhappiness let me convince myself the trauma and unhappiness of others is more potent and meaningful”. That was the original lie he told himself. His fear of loneliness was so fervent and crippling it drove his mind to paint his abusive mother as a saint, just to justify loving her. But Kaneki in his bid to save the the world, he turned his back on himself, which is the origin of his splintered personality. Being hurt by others, being hurt by himself, pain pain pain in different forms but all derivatives of Kaneki’s weakness as a human being. But all that’s changed with the last 4 chapters of Tokyo Ghoul:re. Isn’t it fitting that Karren/Kanae, a woman also living a lie for the sake of others, and desiring to be loved, would be the one to hold Kaneki down and beat him, mirroring both Kaneki AND his mother who beat him for her own reasons and no doubt feeling very justified. Kaneki’s hatred towards himself for letting things become this bad is exposed when Haise, the sweetest and kindest of all of Kaneki’s derivative personalities begins to STRANGLE his child self in a bed of red spider-lillies, a flower that symbolizes loss and abandonment. Kaneki’s self-loathing and realization that HE’S the reason he’s let things become so horrible BECAUSE of that dream he had all comes to climax. Kaneki faces the true objective nature of his reality. He mentions the desire the Manager had of Kaneki to save his child, Eto, who has invariably become a horrific monstrosity of a human being. Kaneki’s no longer doing the “just and noble” thing because the just and noble thing has caused A LOT of suffering. He’s not sacrificing himself for others because he doesn’t see the merit in that anymore. And how can ANY of you blame him? Would you seriously stand in front of someone and say, “How you are now is wrong because you’re hurting people, even though hurting has been the most natural feeling in your entire life and you should suffer more like you used to by trying to be kind and nice to people because it makes me feel better about my idealistic perception of you”. That is disgusting bullshit and even though even I can’t say for sure what Kaneki wants out of life I don’t detest him for being brutally honest with Urie. The Kaneki of 2011 would have blamed himself DEEPLY for Shirazu’s death and caused him IMMENSE despair. The “One-Eyed King” Kaneki isn’t about that life anymore. He sees where true responsibility lies and isn’t trying to be a hero anymore. He loved Sen Takatsuki’s books and understood her true nature even as Haise Sasaki, but when the memories returned and he looked at Eto and what she’d done to the people around her and himself and he weighed the Manager’s wish and he made the hard decision to kill her right then and there. He made a “choice” with no regret. Something Ken Kaneki from years prior could NEVER do without blaming himself. He’s become a more REAL human being. It’s okay if it’s not pretty and sweet and kind like he used to be. Because if you can’t see how implicitly HORRIBLE that life was for him, you probably can’t appreciate how brutal and cold he’s become now, having come to terms with the true nature of himself and his mother. But that said Kaneki is NOT like Eto at all. Just like he said, “The cold one is you, go die”. I can’t say for sure if he KNEW Karren would throw herself off of the building to save Shuu but you could make the argument since his eyes drifted over to her before flinging Shuu off the building. But either way he DID take the risk of Shuu dying and that’s what matters. He’s accepted the fact he can’t save everyone and that’s OKAY. But Kaneki didn’t lose his ability to perceive and value the weight of life. A solely cold and uncaring person would not have knelt down with the Q’s and cradled Shirazu’s body. Kaneki understands the weight of life, but just because he finally understands the weight of his own life in its entirety y'all think he’s doing “the wrong thing”. Gtfo of my face with that weak shit. He doesn’t need Touka to “punch some sense into him” because TOUKA HAS NO CLUE OF WHO THE REAL KANEKI IS. Touka is living her own life WISHING that the kind and gentle Kaneki she loved would return but y'all need to realize she’s become VERY removed from Kaneki’s life. Whatever Kaneki does from now on, whether he becomes a villain or an incidental savior, I fuck with the man because he’s still as driven as he was 4 years ago, but his mind is no longer clouded with false sentiments of sweetness of making an unrealistic dream come true. He’s done with dreaming.

We are NOT soulmates  Chapter one

Hey guys! New multi-chapter! And guess what? It’s Solangelo! I always read these stories that only have four-seven chapters and than they are kinda abandoned… I can say, you won’t have to worry about that from me. I always make it a point to finish my fanfictions, no matter what gets put on my plate.

Little different concept this time. Nico and Will are rivals! Like anybody would suspect, the sun gods son and the Underworld god’s son do not get along. But they are linked together as soul mates by the oracle of Delphie and choosen to fullfill a request by Aphrodite herself.

Lots of adorable arguments ensure.

Rate and review and chapters will be posted faster! Encouragement can only speed me up.

Let’s get this party started.

Two souls bound through time.

One in darkness.

One in light.

One prevailed in deep despair

Both will fall lost in fair.

Skies are falling, hide bellow

Hands are bleeding, don’t let go.

With first breath, a final wish.

With first love, a final kiss.

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