#dc comics#batman#dc#bruce wayne#batfam#dick grayson#batfamily#dc fanart#tim drake
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Sometimes the quiet heroes are the ones who listen while holding their own storms. Send this to someone who’s been there for you — let them know they’re loved. 𓆩♡𓆪
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗
hiii hun! this is such a lovely idea!! i've mostly written for vi so far so i'll focus on the long one shots for this ask, thank uuuu definitely have so much fun thinking of this hehe soooo...
rumor has it: my all-time fave! i love the enemies-to-lovers trope so much and i had so much fun writing how they slowly warmed up to each other, also vi in this fic was just *chef's kiss*
crossing the line: the dynamic, the hints of jealousy, the slow realization... also had a blast writing miss fortune flirting with reader lol i was giggling so hard
just pretend: ahhh i hold this vi close to my heart! she's so gf coded in this, plus we have fake dating in an omegaverse and an accidental marking?? sign me in
after party: this one was very self-indulging lol something very similar happen to me and my gf last year (except for the nsfw part... sadly) so i was both venting and reimagining what could have happened (also sorry if this is tmi lol)
love you in my mind series: this is an idea i've had on my head for a loooong time! i specifically love chapters 3 & 4, ugh they're so good i love the enemies to lovers and the twists and the tension... i will continue it i just have to take a step backwards and look at it from a new perspective u.u
Ariana Grande for LOVENOTES
"Until we meet again"
This really took a twist on me. And then there you were, standing in front of me, gazing at me with your embers of the heart eyes. I will never forget the color of held promises... Not the one I was expecting, but somehow, the timing feels just right.
~M"M
“Estoy cansada de este intercambio de buenas intenciones mías por malas actitudes tuyas.”
-Lola Correa
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
If you approach me closely, you can see it, and if you close your eyes you will feel it swirling around in my aura. I used to call it, "My best kept secret." It's just behind the stoicism in my upper lip, hiding snugly between the furl of my brow. I am one seam, one thread of genuine curiosity away from being unraveled completely by someone tugging at it. I keep stowing it away in the compartments in my body that are now so stuffed to the brim, I am tense to the touch. I've been told that you can smell it on me, my "desperation" and it feels embarrassing. It's starting to pain me greatly; this "trying to hide it and stuff it away", as if I can't feel it incessantly gnawing away at every nerve in my body.
When I am alone, it consumes my every thought and permeates my every desire. I long to release it & yearn for its touch scaling down the knape of my neck into the curve of my waist. I wish for the moment it's eyes will meet mine and melt away every defense down to the buckles in my knees, I am reaching the point of desperation and you can hear it in my throat sitting just above every word I say. Each day it whispers to me, and each day the dam begins to crack just a little more. You'd think it an aggressive disease the way it spreads through me, but no. It is my nature that I am trying to change, my nature that I am trying to hide. It is my nature that I am ashamed of, my nature that longs for the fever of romance and the illustriousness of pure, protective, nurturing, challenging, passionate, intentional, unwavering love. It fervently grows no matter how much I try to destroy it at the sight of a sprout, no matter how I try to intellectualize love as merely a fever dream, an illusion of the mind and torture to the heart.
I am a lover, a romantic, a poet alive in every piece of literature that exists in its name. My nature is to love and be loved and it renders me vulnerable, susceptible to deception, betrayal and destruction. This is why it could only exist in the furl of my brow, the stoicism in my upper lip, stowed away in the compartments of my body that are tense to the touch; because whenever I have let my nature free, I am reminded why I am not safe to be.
Do you remember your first love? 💓
