I swear we don’t just play with kandi and draw rlly poorly. we’ve got serious work too, it’s a hopeful dream coming together after about…..8 years of saying “i could never write a novel-!” and then waking up at home-
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My Love Is a Sin
She knew that as soon as she said those words, she’d be destined to a life of nothingness. Everything she knew, everything she ever loved. All of it would be taken from her without a second doubt. Despite knowing these consequences, she still did it.
Why?
Because love was a powerful feeling that no other could take from her. No matter how hard they tried. But to love someone is to suffer. She knew this, and she still did this to herself. No one else is to blame except her. A mortal and an Angel, loving each other…
It was complete nonsense.
The two were from completely different worlds, one that the other would never fully understand. An Angel and a mortal could never be together, as fate itself forbade it. Even as she witnessed his last moments, she didn’t regret a single thing. Because to love was to suffer. It wouldn’t be long before punishment; they never forget when one of their own breaks a rule.
She was faced with a trial, charged with committing a sin so terrible that it could make the worst of the worst shy away. She tried to defend herself with all she had. Was it such a sin to love another? To lie in sacred union together and love each other in the purest way possible?
But it didn’t matter how much she tried to defend her case. Family, friends, and acquaintances, none of them believed her. In their eyes, she was already guilty. Every word that spilled from her lips was nothing more than a lie.
It didn’t take long before they chose her sentence. The words ‘guilty sinner’ hung over her head as she was placed into shackles. A kick on her back followed as she was forced onto her knees. She needed to become an example of what happened to Angels who dared to disobey Him.
With that, the sound of wings being ripped and torn rang out in the crowd as her screams followed. Thrashing, kicking, begging, praying that they would stop. It burnt, it hurt, it felt as if hell itself were raining upon her. She fell limp as blood seeped from her back.
A pair of wings — being held in the sky for everyone to see.
Beautiful white feathers, stained with blood and dirt. Something so beautiful and praised — now tainted with the blood of sin. Strong and made to soar the tallest of heights, now shriveled and destroyed. The most important thing to an Angel, taken from her as if it were nothing more than a mere toy.
An Angel was no longer an Angel without the use of their wings.
And all because she made the mistake of falling in love.
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Just a thought 💭
Your older male friend who’s super touchy and clingy. How he always has an arm around you when you hang out. How he would move your hair out of your face. He would do anything for you if only you would notice that he’s flirting with you. Alas you may never realize……
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Max: force filed (tunnels au)
Max watch as the first limb be caught by Billy, then the next cut into him, hit after hit.
Move, move, she has to move. Bile bubbles in her throat, a defending ringing downs out anything’s else.
She stumbles over her frozen legs, her breath rattles in her lungs feeling clutered, filed with spores. She brakes into a run, her stomach turns over and over again filed with wiggling vines.
She slams into Billy side desperately grasping him and energy explodes out of her.
The limbs slams into the shield, over and over until the mind flayer collapses as the floor rumble and shakes.
“Who has a first aid kit?” Steve asks as Nancy and El comes up to the shield.
“In the car, under the passenger seat” Jonathan runs out to the Wealars car.
“Max, can you drop the shield?” Max sobs shaking holding onto her brother, shaking.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/78966146/chapters/207128341
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DABBLE #1
warnings!!!- suggestive content, its not smut but its something like that, author decided to cut this off early bc she had other…matters… to attend to.
i sit on my desk, it was messy littered with art supplies as she walks in “…baby..” she whines lightly from the door
without looking up i respond with a small hum “hm?” “baby…” she whines a bit louder from the door
“sweetheart im a bit busy…” i sigh knowing exactly what she wants but this project is due soon…fuck…she going to have to wait
“but baby please, haven’t i been good lately…” she begs softly. i finally look up to get a good look at her, her eyes were teary, tears threatening to fall. just how i like it. her bra was barely on, one strap already off her shoulder.
my eyes trail farther down and i see it my prize. her legs were clenched together the insides dripping with her wet. she looked so needy, so desperate
“fuck honey, as much as id love to ruin you right now… im working” i look away from her trying not to give in but… fuck she looks so ready to ruin.
“p-please ill do anything i just need it.” she begs as i hear a squelch sound, that sound always made me go crazy. i had to think and fast. that’s when i got an idea.
“come” i demand rolling my chair out from underneath the desk, she was quick to run over but before she could undress me i stop her causing her to let out a soft whine and pout.
“bab- baby— baby… please-“ she begs but i interrupt her.
“sit” i say patting my thigh. she whines but like the obedient girl she is, she listens. i hear a soft gasp from her, the friction of the soft skin on my thigh against her clit being a bit too good for her to handle. i needed to hear it again.
i start to slowly bounce the leg shes sitting on as i begin to speak “your gonna be a good girl and ride my thigh ,right princess?” i ask softly in her ear, listening to her moan at the moment of my thigh. such pretty fucking noises shes letting out.
she moaned and nodded but it wasn’t enough so i stopped bouncing my leg and grabbed her by the throat “use your words.” i demand my voice a bit low.
she looked so fucked, i hadn’t even touched her and yet she looked so ruined. having played this game before, she immediately started grinding herself down while chanting “yes, ma’am” like it was a fucking prayer.
“always such a desperate girl for me aren’t you angel?”
A/N: i NEED a girl to ruin bro PLEASEEEEEEEEEE i was way too turned on to actually finish this so take what you can get😭
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Clown!Danny: You know what’s convenient? *high as balls*
JJ!Tim: What? *Also high*
Danny: All clowns dropping dead.
Tim: Doesn’t that include us?
Danny: Maybe? I don’t think Dan would let me die.
Tim: I don’t think Jason would either-
Danny: So all clowns but us?
Tim: Yeah!
Danny: How would that happen though?
Tim: we could kill them.
Danny: we could…
Tim: too much work though
Danny: Also true
Tim: Don’t you know a genie?
Danny: GASPS!! I DO!
Tim: :D
Based of For the hate of clowns .
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TRIGGER WARNING🚨
GRAPE IMPLIED
Tristian’s mind was blank, he couldn’t think, there was this…buzzing like a bee or… an old television with no signal, it made it hard. Until a voice so achingly familiar broke through the haze, eyes like jewels stared at him, concern and worry clear in them.
“Trist, are you okay? You’re zoning out more than usual . It’s starting to worry me” Mattais said. His eyes were so much like Silas’, Tristian couldn’t help but stare. It hurt to see only a part of his beloved. But it soothed something in him to know that he was with him in another life like he promised. Oh he’s worried. Why? I’m fine. Verin only grabbed me he didn’t get to do anything else, better than before. Always better than before. “You like that, do you not pearl? Your are quite lewd for a virgin such as yourself.” Cries could be heard from under the mad prince. “Off…get off.” a weak voice rasped.”
“Hello? Earth to Tristian? If you’re not feeling up to it we could head back. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” Tristian stared at him before saying in a hushed and hoarse voice “I’m okay. We can go.” Mattais brows furrowed in concern “Are you sure? We can really turn back. I mean I got some video games we could play or I don’t know…. Netflix and chill?” His suggestion caused Tristian to let out a giggle which turned into a full blown belly laugh, it ignited something in Mattais, something old and forgotten or maybe just buried under thick layers of mists. He smiled at Tristian’s laugh, chuckling himself, before continuing “So? Netflix and chill?” “Sure but let’s get ice cream first” That made him laugh “What? What did I say?” Mattais shook his head at him and turned to walk forward focusing back on their path still snickering. “Nothing you didn’t say anything” “Then why are you laughing?”
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ZOMBIEKILLAH is your referral code I don’t share shit unless I try it and verify it’s legit …… I’m broke AF so $30 and $19 cashed out in two days adds up it may not be much to you but it is to me it’s easy
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If there’s one thing that defines Bruce Wayne, it’s patience.
Most people wouldn’t believe it, but as the most influential businessman in Gotham and beyond—father of seven kids, and Batman, one of the Justice League’s leaders—he’s learned to live with chaos.
And the key word there is almost.
He used to think there wasn’t a situation that could make him lose his calm, that he could always think, wait, and endure. But every man has his weakness. And Bruce was absolutely sure that if he were Kryptonian like Clark, you would be his personal kryptonite.
You’d been angry for weeks. Months, really—three of them. The kids walked around the mansion like it was made of glass, and even Jason had dropped by at least four times (at Alfred’s request, of course) throughout the emotional torture you were putting Bruce through.
Yes, technically it was his fault.
Yes, he had promised you.
And no, it’s not like you completely ignored him during those first weeks of recovery. You just ran out of patience—same as he did.
But you had accepted all of it. The life he lived, the danger, the scars, the insomnia. You accepted him. And still… even with his sincere apologies, you couldn’t forgive him for breaking his word.
He’d been reckless—reckless in a way he hadn’t been in years. Not since the early Batman days, when it was just him against Gotham’s darkness, with only Alfred and blind faith to keep him going. Because of that mistake, he ended up with three fractured ribs, sixteen stitches in his arm, a deep wound across his abdomen that grazed a vital organ, and a concussion that nearly knocked him out cold on a ten-story rooftop.
If Dick hadn’t shown up when he did, Bruce wouldn’t have made it home that night.
And you knew it.
You spent sleepless nights changing his bandages, holding him up when he couldn’t stand on his own, cleaning dried blood from his hands while fighting to keep yourself together. Some nights, you cried—quietly, when you were sure he was asleep—but you never let him comfort you. Every time he tried to reach for your hand or say your name, you turned away, or left with some excuse about his medication. It was your way of punishing and protecting him at the same time.
Bruce didn’t push. Not at first. Because he knew that if he did, he might lose you for good. Still, when he started going back to the cave like nothing had happened, something inside you finally broke. So you moved into one of the guest rooms—three doors down from the main suite.
Not for comfort, but for distance. For pride. You’d been sleeping there for three months, cold and alone, pretending not to hear his footsteps stop outside your door every night.
Until that night. The sound of the doorknob turning pulled you from your thoughts.
Bruce didn’t knock—he never did. He just walked in, like the mansion still answered only to him.
“Enough,” he said quietly, his voice low and heavy with that mix of authority and exhaustion that only he could pull off.
You didn’t look up from the book you’d been pretending to read for the past hour. “Three months,” he continued, stepping closer.
“Three months of this… pretending I don’t exist.”
“I’m not pretending,” you said flatly. Bruce stopped in front of you, his shadow falling across the carpet.
For a moment, he wasn’t Batman, or Bruce Wayne, or anyone else the world expected him to be. He was just a man—tired, human, and completely undone by you. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.
You set the book aside, drawing in a deep breath. “You could start by not breaking your damn promises,” you said, your voice shaking more than you wanted it to.
Bruce looked down, his jaw tightening. “I know. I made a mistake.”
“No, Bruce. It wasn’t a mistake,” you cut in, anger slipping through every word you’d swallowed for months. “It was a choice. You chose to do it. You promised me you wouldn’t put yourself in lethal danger again. You swore it. Remember? When I pulled glass out of your ribs and couldn’t stop crying while you said you were fine? You weren’t fine.”
He shut his eyes, wincing—not from the memory, but from the truth in your voice. “I didn’t want you to go through that again.”
“Then stop making me.” Your voice broke on the last word. Silence filled the room like a wound. Bruce stepped closer, then closer again, until the space between you was gone.
“I can’t promise that,” he whispered.
“I don’t need promises,” you said softly. “I just need you alive.”
He didn’t answer. He just pulled you into his arms. At first, his touch was careful—hesitant, almost unsure if you’d let him. Then it deepened, rougher, desperate, like he’d been holding his breath for months and finally remembered how to exhale.
His shoulders trembled. So did yours. There were no loud sobs, no theatrics. Just two exhausted people trying to breathe in sync again.
Then he moved—too fast. A sharp breath escaped him, the sound of pain breaking through the silence.
You pulled back instantly, eyes searching his face. “Bruce—”
“I’m fine,” he murmured, though the tension in his jaw said otherwise. He reached for you again, slower this time. And you didn’t stop him.
This time, it was gentler—still hungry, still raw, but softer. The kind of closeness that said everything words couldn’t.
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“ I heard you’re messing with my daughter.” Lucifer growls, his voice resonant. Every step with tension as he thunders over to Vox his eyes blazing with a protective fire barley contained.
Vox looks upon the king and says nothing, just listening with a cool and calculated expression upon his screen .
“ See, i don’t let anybody get away with that.” He continues on his hands clenched, then abruptly rolls up his sleeves with deliberate menace. The air seeming to shimmer with heat. “ NOW! I AM GOING TO FUCK YOU!”
The words hang like a thunderclap, awkward silence, Angel Dust in the background on the sofa in the lobby arches one eyebrow, Vox’s expression flatters and flickers into confusion a little caught off guard.
Charlie appears with a amused but firm smile, stepping forward and leans over whispering into his ear. “ Dad, it’s fuck you up. ”
Lucifer blinked, then a rumbling chuckle. His eyes soften just a little bit but the fire behind them doesn’t fade. “ Right. ” He says firmly crackling his knuckles. “ Fuck you up.”
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It had been weeks since Micheal and David’s first date, and not even a single month into their relationship and Micheal wants it to be over. Sam shifted a little on the couch, pondering whether to tell them the truth about the alien thing or just say about the relationship part.
He worried that telling them about the alien part they would expose them to someone and get them in trouble, hell even being taken away to the government! But then again they are the ones who believe in vampires and other monsters, so he figured why not tell them about what he knows about the whole thing.
“So let me get this straight…Your brother got married by a motorcycle race?” Edgar baffled after hearing the whole story from Sam. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Yeah and he win the race and everything,” “And now he wants us to undo it!” Sam explained
“Well how are we supposed to undo it then? “Maybe they can get a divorce and get it over with, but then again we don’t know much about their alien culture?” Alan said, rubbing his eyes due to the lack of sleep.
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god giveth: new daniel content with short shorts (and a trimmed beard??)
god taketh: sports betting event 😔
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said the same thing in my tags, but this lame ass dabble event has convinced me this and the real estate conference are both CAA-led ventures that were singed back last year that he just had to honor (for example, the first dabble ad was filmed back in march and they were a large part of the aus gp this year)
Meanwhile, the vcarb x f1 academy collab and the ford racing partnership are clearly both ventures that have come from daniel himself, and the areas of his career that he 1) actually enjoys 2) understands and built from his own connections. I really hope we see more of that going forward because it’s clear daniel understands his own career and legacy better than anyone and what he should be putting his name to.
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I forgot this fuckass tailgate thing was today. Can CAA free us (and danisl) form sports betting now
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Líf dabble
A dabble I wrote, mostly trying to find f!L’s voice. Rest is under the cut. Still WIP so some details might change in the game proper.
There must be some record she is breaking, after all, how long can it humanely take for one to thread a needle? Five minutes and counting, apparently. It shouldn’t be so challenging if those dark eyes would simply stop staring at her.
It makes Líf’s shoulders rise up to her ears, trying to hide from the judgmental stare. And a part of her wants to scold herself because how can one be scared of her own Mother?
But the atmosphere is tense, the silence stretching over them until both of them are wrapped in its web. To break it feels sacrilegious, to struggle fruitless.
So with a deep sigh, Líf returns to trying to thread the needle again, for the umpteenth time today. Whose bright idea was that she must know how to sew and fix clothes? Everyone knows she has no talent for this. Líf knows, Mother knows, Hel, even Father knows. She’d rather run around naked if it simply meant that she would never have to see a needle in her life. They’ll throw her out of the village, she’s sure of that.
But maybe she will be accepted if the rumors are true. Rumors say that there have been glimpses of a person deep in the island. How can one survive more than a day in a place so infested with dragons? Unless - it is a one of those cursed half-dragon children? If only she could find them and speak – the things she’ll learn!
Or she will get eaten by a dragon. It is 50/50.
Glancing up at Mother, Líf bites the inside of her cheek. She could ask for help and Mother would do it in a heartbeat, but it would be like admitting failure. Where it another day, she would. But from the moment they set down to continue their sewing lessons, Mother was quiet as a statue.
There was no chatter or light gossip for her to answer and there were no words on her tongue nor brain to start a discussion.
Gods be praised, she did it! The damned thread entered the needle and she nearly launches in the air, whooping with joy. Of course, she schools herself - can’t take another lecture about how unsightly she is acting.
Mother’s shoulders drop just a bit, a tiny smile blooming on her lips. It makes her look younger; the way her blonde hair frames her face helps, too. It doesn’t douse the pity in her eyes, and Líf glances away, tongue darting to lick her lips. After stalling for a moment, she opens her mouth.
“We both know this is a waste of time, Mother.” A sigh, Líf glances away. “I did your task. Can you let me go with Father and Ragnar?” If she leaves now, she might be able to catch up with them.
Her Mother gives her a long look, her dark gaze dragging across her muscles—or the lack of them— with deliberate slowness that sets Líf’s skin prickling. The pity in her eyes deepens, and a mix of other emotions she can’t catch.
“You didn’t sew anything, girl,” her smooth voice added with deliberate slowness, deft fingers returning to her own work. Líf continues to stare at her, unblinking. The moment stretches on and on before Mother’s shoulder sag and she sighs deeply from her chest. “Very well, you can take a walk. Only to the edge of the woods, are we clear?”
Some sort of confirmation must have rushed past her lips, but she can’t recall what, feet already out of the room and toward the open world. Perhaps she can catch a glimpse of that mysterious person…?