do you want to read a whouffaldi d/s au?

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Stranger Things

Andulka
Peter Solarz
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Not today Justin
h

Kaledo Art

JBB: An Artblog!
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trying on a metaphor
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Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies

pixel skylines

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JVL

izzy's playlists!

Love Begins
Keni

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from France
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
@sixstepsawaywrites
do you want to read a whouffaldi d/s au?
I’m thinking of doing some Kastle fanfic. Anyone want to throw some prompts my way?
;;Shots | a eretria/wil/amberle bank robbers AU
in which eretria is a bank robber, recruits wil as a lookout and they find and capture a wild amberle, and eretria falls for them both. which they’re okay with, really. it could be a worse fate.
tw: attempted rape and references to past assault (cephalo exists) and violence
(5308 words. possibly a part 1, but self-contained, rated M)
Her friends call her Shot, because just like a shot of your favourite drink, once you pick her up she’s already gone.
Or, maybe that’s just what she calls herself. She doesn’t have any friends, after all.
Her father calls her Eretria and she traces the lines on a map she’ll never get to explore, finding the town marked Eretria in the south of Greece, wondering what it’s like.
She imagines it’s cold, like her.
She pulls a mask onto her face, raises a gun they used to tease was bigger than her (not anymore. Not after she put a bullet in that one guy’s foot for the trouble. She hasn’t seen him since, actually) and she points it. “Hands in the air, this is a robbery!”
Their getaway driver is old, she notes, when she spares him a cursory look as she throws bags into the van. He’s probably reduced to driving the car because he can’t run anymore. She’ll never be like him.
She’ll probably die first.
That’s her hope, anyway. She’s been a survivor since the day she was born, but she won’t go out like him – an old criminal who doesn’t have strength left for his heists but can’t stop running.
She’ll never be that.
They need a new lookout, she doesn’t ask what happened to their last one – she doesn’t care. The only ones who tend to stick around are her father and Zora and even she’s on a coinflip. She spends as much time away as she does with them and that’s always been fine by Eretria. She’s fun when she’s around, but it’s almost more fun when she’s gone.
She’s possessive. Eretria doesn’t get to play around when she’s around.
She leans on the bar, sips a drink that’s half as strong as she can handle and cases the bar looking for anyone she can pick out, someone to be their lookout for a small job coming up. The thought passes through her mind that whoever she recruits might not make the night, that when the sun comes up they might be lying in a pool of their own blood.
“Get out before it’s you drowning in red,” Zora had warned and she’d believed it to be goodbye, but the month after that she’d been back. “Can’t quit the high,” she’d said. “You know how it is?”
Truth was, she didn’t know how it was, not at all. She wasn’t there by choice.
She picks him out of a crowd, she selects him from afar. His sleeves are frayed from wear not for fashion and his hair is long, brushing the nape of his neck even with a hat pulled on. He’s poor and he’s always hiding, but more than that he’s hypervigilant. She watches as every time he moves he checks his surroundings, like he’s waiting to be hit.
He probably is.
And yet when someone buys him a drink, he swallows it down.
Vigilant but naïve, a perfect mark.
She slides into the stool next to his to accompany his drink and he nearly chokes when he sees her. She smiles and it’s genuine. She touches his hair and compliments his eyes.
He takes her home.
LOT/CC fic: A Little Trouble, ch. 6 (of 6)
In a universe where the Legends returned to their earlier lives after Savage’s defeat, Sara Lance is bored out of her mind. And then a certain crook turns up…
Thanks for reading! I loved writing this story, although the heist was a pain to work out. The story is much better because of @larielromeniel, who helped me with that a great deal.
I’ve written a follow-up that’s pretty much just texts between Felicity and Sara (and Barry and Leonard) the day after the heist. Look for that tomorrow.
Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.
Sara precedes him through the door of the suite, still by all appearances on an adrenaline high, and by the time he’s followed her into the main room, she’s on the room phone, apparently ordering something from room service. Nonplussed but amused, Leonard ducks into the bathroom before returning, finding Sara tapping her toe in impatience.
“Can I see it?” She rolls her eyes at his slow smile. “The book, jackass.”
Studying it, they both recognize names, although he’s pretty sure Sara recognizes more than he does. She makes noises of anger at some, disappointment at others, and finally shakes her head, handing it back to him.
“Kay’s going to find that arrow in his wall and think his plan worked,” Len observes as he tucks the book into a hidden compartment in his bag.
“Mmhm.” Sara eyes him. “Which is why we do need to warn Oliver. I mean, it’ll be pretty funny if your friends start using that info and Kay points a finger at Ollie…but only if Ollie is prepared.”
He’d been thinking about this quite a bit, really, on the way back.
Keep reading
@tkdgirl2012 this took a slightly angsty turn, I used a soulmate prompt idea of “Your soulmate clock is actually a countdown of how long your soulmate has left to live and holy shit you have to find your soulmate soon because your clock says you have three months left (for angst maybe).” from here but I hope you like it! I also wasn’t sure about the timeline between Sara’s death + resurrection in Flash and LoT, so I took some creative license with it.
It also got long as hell. Oops.
minus figures
“Actually, I was dead for a year.”
It shouldn’t have stuck in his mind the way it did, but there he was, scratching at his arm and glaring at the ceiling of what was apparently his new home.
“When?”
He wasn’t sure when he’d left his room or ambled his way to the training room to find Sara beating seven hells out of a punching bag, but there he was.
“What are you talking about?” she said, turning back to the bag. He stepped behind it, bracing it with his body, and she glanced at him before going back to punching.
“You said you were dead for a year,” he said. “When?”
She shrugged. “Died? A year and a half ago, give or take. Came back... Eh, four months ago?”
He swallowed, fighting to keep whatever confusion he was feeling off his face, but she noticed, lowering her hands and studying him.
“Why?” she said.
“No reason.” He released the bag. She glared at him. He sighed. “Something weird happened to me,” he said, “a while back. Thought it might be related.”
“What, was there blood in your dumpster or something?” she said. He looked at her, confused, and she waved a hand. “Nothing. What happened?”
He didn’t want to tell her, but he felt like he’d signed himself up for this so here he was. “My clock stopped.”
CC next, @tkdgirl2012 I promise! I’m not just skipping that. I wrote from Ray’s POV so it turned into a rambling mess in places but I hope you like it!
meaning
Ray Palmer had never been one to believe in absolutes. He was technically Jewish, but his religion had lapsed as he grew older and he didn’t find himself missing it all that much. Christmas was a nice tradition for family, when you had one, and that was about it when it came to religion.
Absolutes weren’t his thing, and the more time he spent flying around Star City in his suit, or watching Felicity work magic with computers, or just generally knowing that Barry Allen existed, the less he believed in them.
When he was small, he’d woken up to see words tattooed along his arm. He knew it happened to some people, that the words of their soulmate – something distinctive, something you’d just know – would appear on their bodies, but it didn’t happen to everyone.
In fact, it rarely happened at all.
But whereas most people obsessed over it and made entire webpages devoted to the concept of a soulmate and what it meant to have half of a soul out there waiting to rejoin, Ray had simply... continued.
And then he’d met Anna.
She’d asked once, as they lay in bed, if the tattoo on his arm meant something, and he said, “No. It doesn’t mean anything.”
If she’d thought it weird, she’d never said.
He’d never believed that she was his soulmate, but he’d never loved her any less for it. Soulmates were a strange concept, the idea that you could have only one, that if they died you’d be forever without half of your soul, that somehow the soul – this supposedly essential part of any human – could be broken and split between two humans, but that for some reason your soulmate would surely be nearby, not in a backwater village in Japan while you were living it large in Central City or something.
No, Ray had never believed Anna was his soulmate, but he’d never believed in soulmates at all.
When she’d died, he never felt he’d lost a soulmate – just that he’d lost the love of his life.
The Waverider had dealt another blow to any remaining fragments of belief he may had held in fate or destiny – the thought that they could alter time, that one wrong move could wipe a marriage from existence, or a person, or an entire timeline could shatter and disappear left him with a feeling proof, that there was no such thing as soulmates, or divine intervention or anything like that.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t still looking for love.
He was.
For some reason though, his heart had decided to yearn for Mick Rory. He knew why: the man was handsome as hell and twice as sinful, his smile lit up the whole room for Ray whenever he bothered to use it, and he was smart when he let himself be, he just lacked direction and schooling.
But sometimes his intelligence shone through like a beacon, and Ray would find himself just staring at him like he was the sun itself come to light up his world.
“What’s the delay, haircut?” Mick grumbled, coming to rest by his side, eating a banana.
Ray hated him a little for that and he averted his gaze quickly. “I’ve been trying to activate the crystals,” he said of a piece of old technology they were trying to keep out of the hands of the next set of bad guys, “but it’s missing a piece.” He let out a sigh and gestured at it. “You know how you get the IKEA box and in the IKEA box there’s a leaflet and the leaflet tells you how to put the cabinet together?”
“No.”
“Right. Of course not. But we’re missing the leaflet,” Ray said with a sigh. “I think we’re going to have to go back. It’s probably written on the wall of the cave or something. I can’t believe I was so stupid that I didn’t make a note of—”
“Dimittere me ad Deum,” Mick said.
Ray froze. He looked around at him. “Did you just call me dumb?”
Mick looked at him like he truly was. “You ain’t stupid, haircut,” he said. “I said: dimittere me ad Deum. Latin or some shit like that, right?”
Oh yes. Yes, it was Latin, and now he’d listened to it his forearm was itching. “How do you...”
“I pay attention,” Mick said. “It was painted on the walls. Figured it might be important so I read it a few times.”
Ray mouthed at him. “Dimittere me ad Deum,” he said, with the correct translation, and the crystals came alive. “Aha! Mick you genius!”
Mick munched on his banana.
Ray finished up, taking the crystals to Sara, and then...
“Hey Mick, got a minute?” he said, ambling as far as the door to his room but not going inside.
Mick looked around at him. “Sure.”
Ray hesitated a moment, then moved inside and sat down on one of his chairs. “So uhh... I wanted to talk about that Latin.”
“What about it?” Mick leant against the wall.
“I uh...” Ray wasn’t sure how to broach this topic. He wasn’t even sure if Mick liked guys, let alone felt romantic attraction towards them.
He was okay with the idea of a friend soulmate though, if he wasn’t.
He pulled his jacket off, rolling his sleeve up, and showed Mick the tattoo. “I have this.”
Mick squinted. “Ya got it tattooed?”
“No.” Ray ruffled up a little and huffed. “I’ve always had it. It’s one of those soulmate tattoos.”
Mick eyed his arm. “Soulmate what now?”
Of course he didn’t know. Why would he? Why would anything be easy?
“Uhh.” Ray pulled some faces. “Some people wake up when they’re little and they have these tattoos – marks, really, since tattooing involves ink and this is more of a birthmark since it comes from my body naturally – and they’re meaningful words of someone they share a soul with.” He shrugged. “Once you hear them you just know, according to the websites.” He’d researched, he’d just never believed.
Mick snorted. “So you think I’m some kind of soul mate?”
“Well... Yeah.” Ray shrugged a little and swallowed. “Maybe? It felt right. You said these words. I think—I really think it means we’re meant to be.”
Mick’s entire stature changed, his body snapping upright a little and his knuckles going white around his beer.
“Mick?” Ray said. “What—What’s wrong?”
Mick let out a grunting noise and rolled his sleeve up, glaring at his forearm for a moment before showing it to Ray.
It means we’re meant to be was written on Mick’s arm, almost obscured under old burns.
Ray’s eyes widened. “You have one too.”
“Never knew what it was.” Mick said with a shrug. He yanked his sleeve back down. “Guess it’s you.”
Ray felt his face almost break under the size of the smile on it as he leapt to his feet, but he froze when Mick thrust a hand out towards him.
“Hug me, I’ll kill you,” he said.
Ray considered that for a moment, then shot him a grin. “You’d only be hurting yourself, Mick.”
Mick groaned and just went back to his beer.
Prompt me?
Thanks for the prompt @connorfan1982! I hope this is what you expected :D
It’s green
“It’s green.”
Mick Rory had put up with a lot of shit on the Waverider. He’d consistently been diminished and demeaned, he’d been treated like a psycho (which, he supposed he was but ever since his time in the Vanishing Point he also wasn’t anymore) and just plain ignored.
But this... this was the worst part of everything.
They’d crash landed in Star City twenty-he-didn’t-fucking-care again and Connor Hawke had come on board.
Rip had made some dying seal noises and pointed out he was an aberration or some shit like that, but Mick had tuned him out and had only imagined clubbing him a little.
See? He wasn’t as psycho as he once was.
Connor had fit in well at first. Mick hadn’t really interacted with him beyond a nod of approval when he beat the shit out of some guy who’d taken Sara by surprise, but he’d fit in.
And then Haircut’s damned chore wheel had come into effect, placing Connor in cooking.
Mick had tried a few times to make it so that only Haircut landed in cooking, but he’d never quite cracked how to recode that. He’d managed to make it so that the wheel didn’t land him in cleaning the toilets (really, it was just a simple if variable added to Haircut’s insane chore wheel code that said if Mick landed on Cleaning it just had to keep rotating). He wasn’t sure why Haircut’s idea of a chore wheel had to be randomised and spinny but there you go. Maybe it was so no one could complain it was rigged.
Ha.
Suckers.
But back to Birdman and his damn cooking.
Mick had sat down for lunch, looked down and... green.
He had a feeling that one part was kale. He didn’t know what the rest was. He’d only eaten kale once and that was because Lisa had made a joke and Leonard had insisted he could totally eat healthy food, he wouldn’t even notice the difference.
(He’d noticed. They’d all noticed.)
“It’s green,” he said again, when apparently the first time he hadn’t been loud enough.
Birdman paused with one hand on his own plate. “Well... Yes.”
“Where’s the meat?” Mick demanded.
“I don’t think there is any, Mick,” said Haircut down the table. “Connor’s a zen Buddhist. He doesn’t eat meat and I doubt he cooks with it.”
Connor shot him a smile. Mick resisted the urge to shoot Connor.
“Vegan.” Mick poked his food and a potato fell off his plate. “If it doesn’t scream, I don’t eat it.”
“You eat crackers,” Haircut said.
Mick turned his head slowly, just slow enough that Haircut knew he was about to die and shut the fuck up.
“Mick, Connor went out of his way to cook a nice meal for us,” Sara said. “I’m next on cooking duty. I’ll make sure your entire plate is meat. Just try his food.”
He eyed Sara. “Pass.” Her cooking was almost worse than... green.
He really wanted to punch the kid.
“Maybe your palette just isn’t sophisticated enough to enjoy the flavours,” Birdman said with a big smile, stabbing a piece of green-and-fluffy.
“What’d you just call my palette?” Mick said.
“Unsophisticated,” Connor said.
Down the table, Sara groaned.
Mick launched up from his seat, swinging a punch at Birdman.
The next thing he knew he was on the floor. Birdman was still eating his dinner, but now his boot was on Mick’s throat.
“Ya call that zen?” Mick growled.
“It was pretty zen from where I was sitting,” Haircut said. He paused. “Connor, let him go.”
“Only if he eats his dinner,” Birdman said.
Mick wriggled and squirmed, trying to get out from under the most embarrassing pin of his life. “No!”
Sara leant towards Rip. “Do you ever feel like we became parents to children in adult bodies?”
Rip looked back at her. “I have for a long time.”
“It won’t kill you,” Birdman said. He chewed pointedly on whatever the fuzzy green was. “You might even like it.”
Mick glared at him. “Fine.”
The boot went away from his throat and Mick climbed back into his seat, stabbing his kale and glaring daggers across the table at Birdman.
Leonard’s words rang in his head, that he’d gotten soft, but he hadn’t felt it until he was sitting opposite a zen Buddhist who had just kicked his ass, eating kale.
He looked down at his plate and took a moment to imagine every last item as pieces of Birdman’s body.
Then he ate his way through the whole lot.
And chewed excessively.
Prompt me?
I skipped the second prompt, I hope you don’t mind, I didn’t know how to do it. But here’s the first! @connorfan1982
I don’t need a shovel
Maggie didn’t think that Lyra was small or sensitive, she didn’t seem frightened or upset by the procession of people giving her The Shovel Talk, but none of the people who kept interrupting her evening with Maggie at the back of Kara’s apartment while the others left them out seemed to care.
First was James. He introduced himself nicely, shook Lyra’s hand, smiled at her, and then he said, “Just so you know, Winn’s my best friend.” When Lyra looked at him, confused, he said, “And I’m not just a mild-mannered editor.” More confusion. “If you hurt him? You’ll pay.” He was gone before Lyra could respond, and it left her blinking and turning to Maggie.
“It’s—” She wasn’t sure how to explain an Earth custom she genuinely hated. “—an Earth thing. We’re protective of our friends and family so if we see anyone who might hurt them...”
Lyra’s brow wrinkled. “But I have feelings for Winn,” she said, “we’re dating. I’m not his arch nemesis.”
“You’ve been watching too many of Winn’s movie picks,” Maggie said with a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s just a thing. Physical pain is fleeting, emotional pain sticks around, so we’re almost more protective over hearts than bodies.”
Lyra considered this for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to her game of cards with Maggie. She’d won three in a row and Maggie hadn’t let her win. It was starting to bother her.
Next up was Kara, who Maggie had decided was least equipped for any kind of Shovel talk. “If—If you hurt him?” she said, and Maggie could almost imagine six question marks after her statement for all the energy running through her body. “Look he is small! And vulnerable! And—” She blew hair from her face, ruffling up like a pigeon. “If you hurt him I can crush you! With one hand!”
She didn’t wait for Lyra to reply – which was probably for the best because she was just staring at her in confusion – and then she was gone.
Maggie scowled a little.
The rest of her evening passed by with even Alex threatening her new alien friend – while said alien friend kicked her ass at cards – and by the time they were ready to leave, Maggie was ready to blow.
“Excuse me,” she said to Lyra, offering her a smile, and then taking her leave over towards the table.
Winn was helping clear up, James already at the sink with plates and cups and Winn collecting together the placemats. He looked up when Maggie came to stand beside the table. “Hey Maggie what’s—”
“Don’t talk,” she said, “just listen.” She crowded into his space. “I have spent this whole evening watching you and your friends talk and practically ignore us both, and in the few moments we weren’t ignored, your friends were threatening your new girlfriend.”
“Threatening my—” He looked across at Lyra, pulling on her jacket. “Pft. Nahh, they wouldn’t—”
“Let me make one thing very, very clear,” Maggie said, and Winn retrained his attention on her, his eyes wide. “If you hurt her?” She stepped closer. “I’m an FBI agent. I don’t need a shovel.”
He made the tiniest squeaking sound under his breath. “N-Noted!” he said.
Maggie turned, making her way across to her girlfriend. “C’mon, Alex,” she said as she got to her side. “Let’s give Lyra a ride home.”
Prompt me?
Guys! Throw some fanfic prompts in my ask super quick?
(fandoms: lot, supergirl (no s/anvers please), arrow (no ol/icity), the flash, stucky, sw in aos, the 100)
;the damage is done [ch. 4/10]
the oculus is destroyed, wiping Leonard Snart right out of time along with it. (au after season 1)
[ all chapters | prev ]
is it required?
He fit in with the team like he belonged there.
There wasn’t much they could do with him, a naked traveller from god knows where (or, more importantly, when) so they kept him.
“Like a pet?” he drawled, leaning in the doorway where he’d overheard their conversation from. “I’m not sure how I feel about being your dog.”
“I’m not giving him belly rubs,” Mick said, a beer put to his lips. “I don’t pet Temporal Anomalies.”
“We can’t keep calling him that,” Nate said with a sigh. “He’s – y’know! – a person, as far as I can tell.” He looked over at the man in the doorway. “Seems person-y.”
“He’s a person,” Sara said, a little quicker than she’d like. So what if she’d been getting to know him a little? It wasn’t fair to treat him like an object or a dog.
“So what do we call him?” Ray said. “Peter? Walter?” Sara cut her eyes over to him and he shrank a tiny bit. “Tinkerbell?”
“Could just ask him what name he’d like,” Mick said, quiet almost like he thought they’d ignore him.
“Good point,” Sara said. She looked across at the Temporal Anomaly. “Well... What should we call you? Do you want to pick a name?”
He considered that for a moment, then sauntered across, sitting down and taking Mick’s beer right out of his hands. Ray’s jaw dropped. Nate stared. Amaya stayed quiet, but looked between the two men, her hand creeping for her pendant. “Do I need one?” he asked, like he hadn’t just stolen Mick’s beer.
He took a swig. Mick stared at him, torn between confusion over what he’d just done and confusion over how angry he wasn’t.
;the damage is done [ch. 3/10]
the oculus is destroyed, wiping Leonard Snart right out of time along with it. (au after season 1)
[ all chapters | prev ]
do we have any new information?
Upon stepping through the doorway into the medbay, the first thing Sara noticed was that the man in the bed was sitting on the edge of the bed. He’d been given pants and a shirt, although it hung loosely off his chest, making him look far skinnier than she knew he was, and he was looking as confused as she felt.
“You’re awake,” she said, stating the obvious to draw his attention from examining his own arms to her presence in the room. Whoever had been in here before her had vacated, presumably to leave him privacy to pull clothes on, so she thought it was only fair to make sure he knew he was no longer alone.
“Apparently,” he said, the word coming out more as a drawl than simply spoken. She wondered if it was a front, some kind of defence mechanism, or just the way he spoke. He looked around at her. “I assume you’re the one that--” He waved a hand. “--rescued me?”
“You’re welcome,” she said and ambled closer, arms folded across her chest and back straight. “Now you’re awake, I’d like to know who you are.”
“As would I,” he said and raised an eyebrow over at her, a smirk on his lips.
;the damage is done [ch. 2/10]
the oculus is destroyed, wiping Leonard Snart right out of time along with it. (au after season 1)
[ all chapters | prev ]
where does it begin?
Not for the first time, she woke with tears staining her cheeks and didn’t move, curled up around a pillow and breathing hard, confused for a moment. She’d never been one to sleep deeply or give in to dreams or nightmares and she didn’t even remember what she’d been dreaming about.
All she knew was there was a hole in her chest in a shape she couldn’t recall.
;the damage is done [ch. 1/10]
the oculus is destroyed, wiping Leonard Snart right out of time along with it. (au after season 1)
[ all chapters | next ]
don’t fall asleep
The oculus blew and all at once it felt like Sara’s heart did too. She didn’t love him (did she?) but it was there: that precursor, that deep feeling of nearly, the soft almost rhythmic extra thump her heart did when his hand brushed hers.
Maybe with Leonard it was more than that, more than love (she didn’t love him). She felt a lot of things for her team, some were soft and fluffy (Ray, Kendra), some were darker and more powerful, like something tearing at the inside of her chest (Rip) and some were just there, and she trusted them all in the way someone trusts a team to get them out of trouble.
(Except Rip. Maybe not Rip after what happened with Stein.)
→ There are (500) faceless icons in this pack, which has been split into six sections. There are (150) icons in each of the solo sections, and (50) in each of the other four. All icons are (100x100) pixels, entirely safe for work, and were made by me. Credit isn’t necessary, but please like or reblog this post if you use any of these.
[FEMALE] ● [MALE] ● [F/F] ● [F/M] ● [M/M] ● [MISCELLANEOUS]
I’m using these all over this blog, so here’s a reblog.