Dick. Why are you licking mystery substances off the ground. Stop.
It's a habit for him... đ¤Ł
todays bird

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if i look back, i am lost
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Not today Justin
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@stressedoutcanary
Dick. Why are you licking mystery substances off the ground. Stop.
It's a habit for him... đ¤Ł
Matt Murdock. Daredevil.
to you i can admit (that Iâm just too soft for all of it)
(Read on AO3) (TW: anxiety, anxiety attack) Alec hates this feeling. He isnât a stranger to it, but the strength with which it washes over him today catches him entirely off-guard. He canât ignore it, but even worse, he canât hide it. The slightest inconveniences and missteps throughout his day nearly bring him to tears on more than one occasion. With every overly-loud conversation half-shouted across the cafeteria or the bustling area of the Ops Room Alec notices his anxiety rising steadily throughout the day. He spends his lunch break lying on the floor of his office with all the lights off, willing his mind to quiet for a few precious minutes of peace before heâs back to the grind.
His hands are shaky while he forces his way through the paperwork he must finish before he can be done with his day⌠or at least the public portion of his day. He sends Magnus a warning text that he isnât in the best mind space just so his husband is aware of it. Being honest about his bad days instead of hiding them is something Alecâs been working on improving.
After what feels like centuries but is really only another hour, Alec wraps up his reports and walks away from anything that can wait until tomorrow. All he wants is to be home. All he wants is to be with Magnus.
It feels like such a goddamn cliche but Alec knows that itâs true: the moment he steps through the doorway of the apartment they call home, thereâs an immediate release of some of the tension in his chest.
And then Alec wants to cry all over again, but for the best of reasons this time.
The sofa is covered with their most comfortable blankets and pillows taken from the bed. His favorite snacks are on the side table, and a stuffed bear Magnus got him last Christmas waits in Alecâs usual spot next to Magnus. To top it all off, one of Alecâs favorite of Magnusâ records is playing in the corner, soft and soothing.
âWelcome home, darling,â Magnus greets him, already waiting for Alec on the sofa. âHow are you feeling?â âIâm fine,â Alec says instinctively.
âGo get changed into something comfy,â Magnus suggests instead of immediately prying into Alecâs day.
Alec nods, slowly making his way to their room to slip into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt before immediately going back to the living room and wordlessly crawling onto the sofa, cuddling up against Magnus so that heâs half-laying across him, head resting on Magnusâ chest.
âDo you want to talk about it?â Magnus asks quietly, fingers threading through Alecâs hair.
âNo,â Alec says, but the word lilts up at the end, drawn out a little too much.
âThatâs the ânoâ you say when youâre lying,â Magnus calls him out. He isnât wrong.
And it isnât that Alec doesnât want to talk about things with Magnus, just that itâs so difficult for him to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He feels weak, even if he would never think someone else is weak for doing the same thing. He feels like nothing in his life is wrong enough to warrant what heâs experiencing right now.
Alec tries to think of where to start. His mind is blank, but not the peaceful kind - itâs the kind of blank where thereâs so much happening all at once that he canât pick out any one thing, and his brain stalls, all the while every little thing thatâs wrong sounds off in his head until itâs all just deafening static.
He canât describe that, though, so when Alec does open his mouth to respond what comes out is a broken sob.
He does more crying than talking, and Magnus is perfect throughout the entire thing. He rubs a hand comfortingly up and down Alecâs arm, he listens when Alec does manage to put some of his thoughts into words and shares the silence around Alecâs sniffles when Alecâs words fail him. Every so often Magnus asks a question, trying to help Alec pinpoint specific things that may be bothering him more than others, but mostly heâs just there, grounding and present.
Itâs exactly what Alec needs.
Heâs never had someone heâs felt comfortable enough to open up to like this before. He can count on one hand the number of times heâs cried in front of people who arenât Magnus. He doesnât need any fingers to count the number of people who know as much about him as Magnus does.
And right now, at this moment, being surrounded by all his comfort items while being held by his comfort person is all he needs to feel safe enough to let it all go for a little while. He cries, talks, and cries a little more. They even manage to laugh a little. Magnus peppers frequent kisses onto the top of Alecâs hair and Alec holds onto Magnus a little tighter with every overwhelming wave of emotion to anchor himself.
Finally, with everything out in the open and the last of his tears drying on his cheeks, Alec pries himself away from Magnus.
âThank you,â Alec says, relief evident in every syllable.
âI barely did anything,â Magnus says.
âYou did exactly what I needed,â Alec insists, shifting where he sits so he can bring a hand up to cup the side of Magnusâ face, pulling him in for a soft kiss.
Alec knows his biggest problem is bottling everything up, and he hopes that Magnus realizes how much it means to Alec to have an outlet and, more importantly, a confidant. He remembers countless breakdowns alone in his room, curled up in bed or lying on the floor, lost in the constant spiral of his own thoughts without anyone to help him through them. Just having someone, having Magnus, makes all the difference in the world.Â
The world around Alec expects so much from him. His parents expect perfection. The other Shadowhunters expect a confident leader. But Magnus? All Magnus ever expects of him is honesty and love to the best of his ability. To have someone he can turn to and admit that sometimes it all feels too much? Itâs priceless. Itâs something Alec never imagined having and something he doesnât take for granted.Â
âThis was perfect. You are perfect.â
Alec leans against Magnus again, breathing easily once more with the knowledge that every time he starts to feel like heâs breaking, Magnus will be there to hold the pieces until they can put them back together, together.
apologies to the Joker enjoyers but I could genuinely go 5 years without him appearing in a Batman comic and I'd be fine
Grandmas were so right about puzzles and knitting and crocheting and solitaire and reading slow and slippers and baking and watching deer in the backyard send post
ghostmaker dooblin
Tim Drake is getting a solo series again! Check out these incredible first issue variants by Dan Mora, Jorge Jimenez, David Baldeon, and Jamal Campbell!
Happy Pride Month 2022!!!
Faust the Crow loves you even more than she did last year!
ohhh, idealized mental characterization of my fav comic book character lovingly cobbled together from countless hours of media that is not actually wholly reflective of any of their canonical iterations because not a single one of their writers have ever understand them like i do, weâre really in it now :(
[DC] Gotham City Sirens âŚď¸đˇđââŹ
(a lot of harleys, couple Harlivys, and miss Selina Kyle đđ)
Today's fun and friendly reminder is that every single member of the Bat Family would personally beat the everliving shit out of a transphobe thanks for coming to my Ted Talkâ˘
Talia with Jason: he's a little guy. He'll be an excellent big brother to my son
Talia with Tim: I am putting that thing back in the ground so help me God! Damian, bully him too
Talia Al Ghul is as always right
Task force z really said Jason is strong AND smart we love an intellectual strongman
I Donât Want To Know What Itâs Like (To Live Without You)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)
A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.
I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelleâs The Other Side but itâs not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills thatâs all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3
â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°
âIf I didnât know you any better Missus Wayne, Iâd accuse you of trying to get me naked.â
That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didnât make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.
âYou and your blatant god-awful flirtingâ, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.
While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.
âWhat? Itâs not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.â
She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.
âIâll be careful he said, donât you worry he said.â
SOFT. SO SOFT. BRUCE AND MAGIC WIFE ARE ALL I NEED. I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE
âĽď¸âĽď¸âĽď¸
I Donât Want To Know What Itâs Like (To Live Without You)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)
A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.
I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelleâs The Other Side but itâs not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills thatâs all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3
â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°
âIf I didnât know you any better Missus Wayne, Iâd accuse you of trying to get me naked.â
That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didnât make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.
âYou and your blatant god-awful flirtingâ, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.
While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.
âWhat? Itâs not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.â
She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.
âIâll be careful he said, donât you worry he said.â
I Donât Want To Know What It's Like (To Live Without You)
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Word Count: 2.2k
Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)
A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.
I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelle's The Other Side but it's not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills that's all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3
â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°â˘Â°
âIf I didnât know you any better Missus Wayne, Iâd accuse you of trying to get me naked.â
That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didnât make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.
âYou and your blatant god-awful flirtingâ, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.
While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.
âWhat? Itâs not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.â
She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.
âIâll be careful he said, donât you worry he said.â