Yura is LOUD. He can’t help it. Beka is just so good to him. He becomes a crying, screaming mess and Beka adores it.
Surprisingly, neither of them have much control, even around Victor and Yuuri. When Beka and Yura stay with them, Beka tries to deny his baby boy. He really does. He knows he’s so very loud, but he can’t keep his hands to himself.
Yura cries more often than not when Beka is fucking him. He just feels so safe and overwhelmingly in love. Beka loves nothing more than looking down at his baby boy with the softest smile and whispering that he loves him while Yuri cries.
Both of them live for phone sex. Yuri gets so out of breath, simply writhing at his Beka’s words and Beka doesn’t mind that Yuri is usually only able to form incoherent babbling. Beka can cum just to the sounds of his baby.
Yuri is the one to initiate sexting, but Beka is much better at it. Yura sends more pictures while Beka is better with words.
Yura seems so dominant around others, but with Beka he just fucking m e l t s. He gets all flustered and he blushes so adorably pink. He won’t ever listen to anyone else, but with Beka he just submits. Lets himself be told what to do. Lets himself be taken care of.
PRAISEKINK!YURI!! Yura is so weak for praise. The simplest of words make his knees buckle. Not even just in bed. Once, just before a performance, Beka called him his pretty boy and Yura had to skate the entire piece with shaky knees.
But in bed, Yuri legitimately collapses. Sinks into the sheets, unable to hold still while Beka sprinkles kisses all over his pale skin. “You look so pretty, Yura.” “I’m impossibly in love with you.” “You look like artwork, baby boy.” Yura can’t keep his hips pressed against anything but his Beka’s cock.
When Yuri wants it hard, he knows how to get it. Drag Beka down and breathily whisper “daddy.”
Neither of them are particularly kinky. Beka calls is softcore kinky. Hair pulling, but never enough to hurt. Love bites that turn into wonderful purple galaxies, but never break skin. Beka loves Yura too much to hurt him and Yura wants to be w o r s h i p p e d.
Yuri loves lingerie. Adores it. He loves the feel of the soft pink lace against his skin and he loves the way Beka looks at him when he wears it.
Yuri’s a slut for rimming. His knuckles go white from gripping at the sheets or grasping at Beka’s hair. There’s nothing he loves more than being eaten out, strong tongue working it’s way past his hole and sending him over the edge, screaming.
It’s messy, but Yura fucking loves it when Beka cums inside of him. He loves feeling so owned. And the shower after always leads to round two.
On April 19th my first kickstarter begins…During my career as an artist working and exhibiting in galleries in the USA and in Europe, i have always had by my side (or, better still, under my working table) a faithful companion: my dog.
A few weeks before my latest solo show in Los Angeles, this dear dog friend of mine passed away.
This is the reason why I decided to develop something completely different from my usual works: an illustrated book about the strong relationship between a human being and a dog. Therefore, I tried to create a tiny and precious story that could properly describe how important can be the small part of one’s life spent with his/her animal friend.
The aim of this book will be that of helping kids and their parents to deal with the “goods and bads” of having a mate with four paws around.
During one of my witchy hangouts, a friend taught me how to open a door to the spirit world. “Opening the Veil” is what they called it. Surprisingly, it wasn’t really that difficult for me–it involved creating a bridge to the spirit realm with my own energy and then opening a door to that bridge I created. Since then, I’ve been able to do it again in my room (with a proper circle, of course).
The first time was pretty cool, because you could definitely feel the shift in energy in the room and the presence of said spirits got much stronger.
I’m going to keep practicing it, because I think I have a knack for (possibly) veil manipulation (I am working with spirits, after all). I just gotta be careful and safe, because I don’t want some shit to come after me.
Spirits have been following me around all day. I don’t mind, except the feeling of being watched gets a little annoying after a while. I keep glancing behind my back (even while I’m typing this) because either my companions or some spirits that might have actually come through the door I opened (whoops) are watching me while I write this.
On the note of companions, it’s gotten much easier to communicate with them since then. My brain isn’t going all foggy when I try to understand them, and I can actually have some pretty solid conversations now (though there will always be that nagging in the back of my mind wondering–am I just making all this up?)
I’ll definitely be writing more about them, and about my weird spiritual experiences while I was in New Jersey (let me just say this–where I stayed had a loooot of history (and a lot of spirits)).
Don't the proportions and context of an abusive father in Ishida's latest illustration resemble Torso rather than Amon or Kaneki?
Hey Anons! :)
I agree with you both that the line mentioning an abusive father is rather striking and is what initially made me doubt that Ishida’s new art was about Kaneki… Initially that is, because the character (whose hair is hidden by that black smoke effect for me) has black nails…
And since I don’t think this is relating to Takizawa or Uta, the only other character (iirc) who used to have black nails was Shironeki, so Kaneki could be the one on Ishida’s new art.
As for the “don’t hit me father” part…I’m really not sure and I know people always disagreed, but it’s not because we always knew that Kaneki’s dad died long ago that he can’t somehow have an importance at a later point (I guess). After all, look at what happened with Kaneki’s mom (I know she was mentioned more than his dad ever was though).
Of course, the more :Re goes on, the less it feels that Kaneki’s father will ever be mentioned, especially when Kaneki himself always said he doesn’t have a lot of memories about his dad, except for his books, but then again, Kaneki is of the unreliable narrator type so…
Extending this line of thought, for all we know it’s not about Kaneki’s father but about one of Kaneki’s father figures: namely it could be about Arima, since we know Arima fought against Kaneki/Haise many times. Then again, I know, he never referred to Arima directly as “dad” but he did call Akira “mom” once, even if the tone of the scene was light back then (but that’s still something he said with a longing look on his face).
…with either a hint that Kaneki’s father might actually become plot relevant at some point (and in that case, if Kaneki actually remembers about him, we have yet another example of the unreliable narrator trope for Kaneki’s character), or with Kaneki simply losing it altogether and not making sense anymore.
If not Kaneki, then it’s another character with black nails => Takizawa, Uta…? But I don’t think Takizawa’s dad ever was hinted to be abusive and we don’t know enough about Uta to speculate on the subject.
I hope it answers your questions Anons, sorry that I don’t have so many ideas! Have a nice weekend :))
“I really like my life right now, I have friends around me all the time. I’ve started painting more. I’ve been working out a lot. I’ve started to really take pride in being strong. I love the album I made. I love that I moved to New York. So in terms of being happy, I’ve never been closer to that.” — Taylor Swift
WE DON'T CHOOSE OUR FAMILY (BATFAMILY/JASON TODD X READER) PART 3
I WOULD LIKE TO DEDICATE THIS CHAPTER TO @awkard-fangirl88 FOR MAKING ME GET MY SHIT TOGETHER AND WRITING THIS PART.
now guys I have absolutely no excuse as to why I’m so late with this chapter. I would like to apologize to everyone I kept waiting, I hope it will not happen again but I never know what will happen.
SCENARIO- The joker finally has his daughter but for how long.
Warnings- talk of mental abuse, physical abuse, language (of course)
You grunted as you held on to the wound that covered your left side. You were limping as you saw the exit coming closer and closer. Closer to freedom. You could hear the sound of boots behind you and dogs barking but you just ignored it and kept limping towards your only chance of seeing the outside world again. A world you haven’t seen for 6 months.
You don’t believe it’s been 6 months since you were on the ladder of that helicopter with your joke of a father.
You remembered the look on your families faces as they discovered your nature, who your real blood was. Thank god that Harley Quinn wasn’t your real mother, because that would make things so much better. (Who knew you could fit so much sarcasm in one sentence)
You only ever saw her once in a while and it never ended well for her. She was a good woman, crazy, but a good woman.
Harley never deserved to be played by the joker, he twisted her mind worse than even his was. He was crazy because he ignored everything, she was crazy because she ignored everything except love and love can make you insane, that one true no escaping from your own mind, insane.
Your time with your father had not been much better. From the beginning all he did was try to tear you down, so you could be made to his picture.
You felt the cold water hit your face as you lied on the cold medal slab in the back of your cell in nothing but sweatpants and a dirty white tank top.
Your “room” only had the necessities. A small barred window, a calendar, a toilet, a slab of metal called a bed, and a sink. Also the floor was filled with 3 inches of water.
“Wakes wakey sugar, time for another one of daddy’s quizzes.” You heard the joker say from the other side of the bars where he stood holding a bow empty bucket.
“No.” You said throwing your forearm over your eyes.
You had been locked up in this hell hole for 4 months now and you were done. The joker made sure you had a colander in your room so you knew every single day that passed by the sun that shined through the tiny barred window you had and you were sick and tired of his games. Not in the way of you wanted to die, just you were done with playing to his whims.
“See I don’t remember, ASKING YOU!” He yelled as he flipped the switch causing hundreds of volts of electricity to shoot through the water of your cell, up to you where it felt like a lightning rod was being sown through your skin.
You screamed bloody murder as you arched your back off the metal slab and could feel your head wanting to explode.
Your heard the switch click off and the joy of your fathers laughter from the other side of your cell as you curled into a ball and held your head.
You weren’t what you used to be. They didn’t feed you the right food to keep you strong and you couldn’t work out from being so weak all the time, so your muscles slowly started to deteriorate. Your strength was apart of your combat style and was starting to leave you defenseless.
“Now be a good girl and get up.” He said as he opened the door to your cell.
You rolled off the slab and landed on your knees, on the water covered floor. You struggled to pick yourself back up off the floor, which used to be a easy task, now, not so much. He rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers as two guards came in and picked you up by your arms and dragged you out of the room behind your other 23 chromosomes donor.
It was the same as everyday since you’ve been here. You were sat in a all dark room with a projector with hundreds of pictures of the batfam. Damian and you taking out the riddler, Dick hanging out with Tim in full consume on top of Wayne enterprises, Bruce with the justice league and finally Jason.
He was out with the rest of the outlaws taking out a threat you had no idea about. You felt your muscles tense as you looked at him, with his guns pulled out and his mask on, he looked amazing. You could tell exactly what face he was making under that mask, you knew what he was thinking and it hurt.
Everyday it would be new more recent pictures and you noticed that all of the batfam looked more weary than usual, especially Jason. He was more brutal than normal and sloppy.
At the end of each “session” you would be asked one question.
“Who are they to you?”
Every single time you replied with your held high and said the words that kept you going through all of the misery.
“They’re my family.”
You would then be dragged back to your cell and do the same thing the next day, but on the last day of the 6th month of you being tortured, things were different.
When you were dragged back and thrown into your cell, you instantly passed out from hitting your head on the metal bed. Thank god you landed face up or you would have drowned from the water, you desperately hated.
When you woke up hours later, you noticed someone standing at the front of your cell with the door open. It was Harley Quinn who had tears streaked down her face.
“Sugar you gotta go, I’ve got about 5 minutes before they come for both of us and this is the only way I’m helping.” She said in a worried voice that still managed to sound perky as she outstretched a hand to help you up.
You looked at her red nail polish with a eye brow raised. You didn’t understand, was it a test put together by your father or was the infamous Harley Quinn being genuinely kind.
“Why?” You croaked out as she started to shake her hand in a fast motion signaling for you to grab it.
“I’m stuck in this life, I chose it for myself, you didn’t and you don’t deserve it.” She said in a harsh whispered voice as she kept leaning back and peaking down the hall.
You looked at her once more, then grabbed her hand hoisting yourself up. As soon as you were standing next to her, a slight prick sensation was in your right arm. You looked down to see Harley pushing a clear liquid from a needle into your arm. You felt the room go brighter and your senses grow sharper.
“What the fuck did you just give me.” You said as you rise to your full height and heard your back pop from not being properly stretched out in the past few months.
“That darlin, is what we call pure adrenaline, I say you have about 15 minutes before you start to feel like death.” She said with a small giggle and looked at a nonexistent watch on her wrist.
“Well toodles” she said, then skipped down the hall, her pigtails bouncing with each step.
“Fucking crazy ass lady.” You said as you stepped out of your cell and turned down the familiar hall where you were then ambushed by a bunch of goons who managed to injure you with a dagger down the left side of your stomach, which led to to where you are now.
You could feel the last bits of adrenaline wearing off, it burned through your system so fast it only lasted about ten minutes. You limped through the final door, managing to put all of your body weight on it and tune the handle and took in your surroundings.
You were on a cliff that over looked some unknown body of water, in the middle of the night, with the moon being the only source of major light. You looked behind you to see the bastard coming up the stairs wth his army behind him.
“Welp looks like I only have one option.” You muttered to yourself as you took a a running start and leaped off the cliff.
4 months later in midway city
You had absolutely no idea how you survived that jump. All you could remember was jumping off the cliff, then the next thing you know, you’re waking up on a beach in the middle of the day.
You sat there covered in sand for what felt like days but was only probably about 3 hours. You just needed a minute, as you tore off the ends of your sweatpants to make a makeshift bandage for your wound.
You couldn’t go back home, could you even call it that anymore, home? They would hate you, they would try to lock you away. You couldn’t be locked away again, you wouldn’t let them.
You got off that beach and walked for what felt like hours until you stopped in Midway city. You smelled like the ocean, not in a good way, you hadn’t taken a proper shower for months, you were starving and cold but that’s exactly where you made your final decision.
You would rebuild yourself here, start a new life, be a new person. Leave everyone and everything in your old life, sadly though it truly meant everyone
Meanwhile in Gotham
“BATMAN, JOKER SPOTTING ON THE SOUTH STREET!” Tim shouted into the coma as he jumped from building to building.
“On it.” Almost every single person in the batfam said at once into the coms.
Jason and Dick were on their cycles at different points in the city on route to the site. Damian and Bruce drove in the batmobile while Barbara rode on top because she quote said “because I’m batgirl.”
They all arrived in a exact unison surrounding the Joker. After you were taken they all dedicated there time to keep there eyes on the look out for the joker and their spare time looking for you.
When you were first taken they searched everywhere, in uniform and out of uniform, night and day, but they couldn’t find you anywhere. There were no clues or leads so they were just running in blind. They had to slow down after 3 months when the villains of Gotham got worse, they thought the bat was done for.
Jason took your abduction the hardest, you were his rock, his anchor, his one true love and he felt like he didn’t even have the balls to tell you how he felt. He never would have cared you were that bastards daughter. You weren’t like him, you showed Jason that even people that came from demons, could turn into angels.
“Where is she, you freaking lunatic?” Jason growled through clenched teeth, as he pulled his guns on the joker who only stood in the middle of the circle of heroes, looking at the ground.
Jason fired a bullet that zipped by his ear as the rest of the family stood completely still letting Jason have his moment.
“I’m going to ask you one more time, where is she?” Jason questioned again with his modulated voice as he cocked the gun.
A low chuckle turned into a horrendous laugh as the joker raised his head and looked at Jason straight in the face.
“Oh that’s hilarious.” The joker said as he wiped tears out from under his eyes.
“What, what’s so funny?” Jason said as he lowered his guns and everyone could feel the glare he was giving the clown.
“Well here’s the situation little red riding hood, I don’t have her, she went bye bye.” He said as he did a wave and laughed some more.
“What did you do with her?” Bruce asked in his most menacing voice.
“Ohhhhh I didn’t do anything, last time I saw her she jumped off a cliff and you know the deal with those pesky heroes she probably lived but then again she could have died. I mean I would go for the latter, anyways in the end, who really cares?” He questioned in a fake voice with a large frown and a fake boohoo.
“JASON DON’T!” Dick yelled as he saw Jason put his finger on the trigger of his gun and aim at the jokers head.
“JASON IT’S NOT WHAT SHE WOULD HAVE WANTED, STOP IT!” Barbara yelled from where she and Damian both stood in rigid positions by the batmobile.
“Give me one good goddamn reason.” Jason said as he fixed a hard stare onto the clown prince of crime.
“Because she would have said no.” Bruce said as he put his famous glare on Jason.
Jason exhaled though his nose in frustration but reluctantly put his gun down and squeezed the handles of his bike instead.
After 30 minutes and the joker being placed back in Gotham all of the batfam returned to the manor to tell Alfred what happened and discuss what they have learned.
“If she’s alive, wouldn’t she have come home by now.” Alfred said looking around at the table, where they were all currently seated.
“No, not exactly.” Tim said as he took a sip of his coffee.
“Bullshit.” Jason said as he rested his jaw on his knuckles with his elbow on the table.
“Think about it, she kept this a secret from us for the entire time because she probably thought we would have hated her, especially you Jason. Now that her secret is out she is scared that if she comes home we’ll just reject her.” Bruce said standing up, avoiding Jason’s glance at him and walking around the table.
They were both thinking of the night when batman lost his Robin. How Jason prayed for Bruce to make it on time, how Bruce mourned after Jason died. Jason forgave him for that night, he would never admit to it, but he did. All because of a girl who opened his eyes.
“She thinks we hate her because her father is the joker, even though she has done so many good things to help us and make Gotham a better place.“ Dick said leaning back in his chair as a look of pure sadness and confusion crossed over his face.
“We don’t choose our family, we make them, assemble them piece by piece, we just need to make her understand that.” Jason said as he stood up and walked over to the bat computer.
“Well how do you want to do that?” Damian asked with a bored expression, even though they could all see the worry in his eyes.
He would never in a million years admit it but he had a soft spot for you and the way you always helped him when he was in distress. It didn’t matter if it was emotional or physical, you always managed to crack away his facade and see the true kid he was. He knew what it felt like to come from a evil family background and he wished he could have been there for you, the way you were there for him, in his moments of need.
“We have to draw her out someway, get her to come to us, she knows how we operate so she would know how to stay hidden, we can’t just try and find her.” Bruce said as he stood next to Jason at the computer and gripped his hand on the back of the chair.
They looked at the picture of you they had on the screen, to keep their spirits high as to not forget you, not like they would anyways.
“Guys what if she’s not hiding though, what if she didn’t make it?” Barbara questioned everyone as she played with her fingers and looked down at the table with bags under her eyes from countless night of looking for you.
“Well with what I’m planning to do we will get an answer either way.” Bruce said as he sat down at the computer and started typing away.
“What are you gonna do?” Jason questioned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, he looked absolutely exhausted and ready to punch someone, at the same exact time.
“I’m gonna make something happen so big she can’t resist but to come out of hiding and see us.” Bruce said in a dark tone with a frown as the rest of the kids just looked at each other and nodded with somber eyes.
I really like my life right now, I have friends around me all the time. I’ve started painting more. I’ve been working out a lot. I’ve started to really take pride in being strong. I love the album I made. I love that I moved to New York. So in terms of being happy, I’ve never been closer to that.
There are two things that Taehyung will always be sure of:
he loves you and he misses you.
Pairing: Taehyung x Reader
Genre: idk but it’s sad af
Word Count: 1,250
Content/Warnings: Mentions of death and suicide
The wind whips past Taehyung in icy gusts as he makes his way onto the bridge. He can feel the cold seep through his parka and into his bones. Even with his hood up, his hair still manages to fly in his face.
It’s a weekday in the middle of winter, so there aren’t many people around. All the residents are at work, all the tourists are at home. He notices a police officer walking up and down the pedestrian path, making sure everything is alright. It’s the same officer he sees every year. He’s come to recognize the officer. But he doubts the officer recognizes him. He probably sees hundreds of people every week.
Taehyung finds the familiar spot on the bridge that he has come to every year for the past 4 years. He knows that this spot is partially obscured by one of the support beams and is therefore a little less windy than other parts of the bridge. Sometimes he wonders why you chose this spot. It’s like you knew he would be coming here and you wanted to protect from the cold. Maybe it was just because you couldn’t make it any further.
“I really like my life right now, I have friends around me all the time. I’ve started painting more. I’ve been working out a lot. I’ve started to really take pride in being strong. I love the album I made. I love that I moved to New York. So in terms of being happy, I’ve never been closer to that.”
You could literally remove Molly from the entire storyline and every thing would still be exactly the same. Her character is just there to create filler it’s almost ridiculous that they even kept her around. Sorry but there nothing strong about her. Donovan was stronger and had more potential than Molly but the hets latched onto Molly and Sherlock being a couple instead of the strong WOC working and flourishing in a male dominated field and now here we are…
I have watched the clip again and again and again and I'm so...I dunno I feel like I have gotten Sana completely wrong? I was so excited to see her bust some racists' asses and be her usual self with an attitude, but now I feel so much for her because she seems to be a really lonely and quite sad person? I feel like I have completely misunderstood her (which makes the trailer even more perfect). But I don't know. I'm sad; I care so much about that girl. I thought she was fine all this time.
Yeah, it’s …. seeing her like this … hit really hard.
Because all of a sudden, this image that we’ve had of Sana thus far, is broken, completely. This is the COMPLETE opposite Sana, to the Sana we know of.
But to people who are Muslim, and not just Muslim, but that belong to a faith, they KNOW what this feels like.
And, you can’t always just … shut down racists and islamophobes, or tell your friends that “hey, i really appreciate you got me this pizza but, i’m still having to take the meat out of it” because you don’t wanna sound ungrateful or like a burden.
Like, it’s not always as easy as it seems. It takes courage, and its takes guts and it’s hard work. And sometimes, we get so tired of being this “strong” person, that … we simply sometimes just have to stay silent. Because, it’s tiring. It wears you out, both physically and mentally.
I really like my life right now. I have friends around me all the time. I’ve started painting more. I’ve been working out a lot. I’ve started to really take pride in being strong. I love the album I made. I love that I moved to New York. So in terms of being happy, I’ve never been closer to that.