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[appleciderjulie]

qpr kralsusie i know this

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[sichore]

I do think one circumstance in which Mydei would let Phainon fuck his wife (gn) is like. On a leash, figuratively or even literally lgmsnks. And it's not that Mydei is all that domineering, he really isn't. He's already wary of Phainon fucking him because he's so chaotic but with Mydei's most precious treasure? Oh he better be on his BEST behavior.

Because the thing is if you think Mydei is touchstarved - and he is, no doubt, Hephaestion was the last lover he had - Phainon is ten, a hundred times worse. Mydei has discipline and restraint and is ever conscious of his strength, and in this case is in an established relationship. Has had an established relationship before.

Phainon has nothing and no one but his destiny and frankly cannot be trusted to be unleashed in the bedroom. He's too excited, too eager, too enthusiastic to try all these things he's only ever imagined and

And it probably ends in either tears for Phainon from overstimulation or bickering between him and Mydei who's maybe being nitpicky and micro-managing according the Deliverer.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Hello! Can do a chapter fic off this fic prompt Danny phantom x dc: https://www.tumblr.com/corkinavoid/767516270934556672/dpxdc-legal-power?source=share

This isn’t a one-to-one recreation of that dialogue but it’s based on that as a framework/premise

Batman dropped down into the room behind a pair of figures—a teenage boy and a slumped adult—letting his landing create an audible thump to alert them of his presence.

If the teen noticed, he didn’t react. Even as Bruce approached, he continued to stare impassively at the wheezing figure on the ground, an old wooden bat with flaking green paint on its side loosely held in his right hand. Bruce had already suspected who the figure would be since he arrived, but seeing the Joker so broken was still bizarre. No laughing, no schemes. He didn’t even seem to be attempting to escape his binds, just… lying there, almost as if pinned in place.

Bruce paused a step behind the teen. “I don’t know what the Joker did to you, but this isn’t the right way to go about this.”

The teen scoffed, and Bruce felt a painful lurch in his chest as he was reminded oh so strongly of his son Jason. “And what, let him go kill more people?”

“I know he deserves to face justice, but not like this. Everyone deserves a right to fair trial. No one person should be judge, jury, and executioner.”

The teen turned to look at him with glowing green eyes, and Batman felt himself freeze. He had faced gods before, yet even using that as a comparison felt like an understatement. The boy’s eyes belonged to someone far older than his teenage form implied, and they radiated power. Inevitability.

When the teen—no, the entity—spoke again, his words carried an unearthly echo. “Perhaps, but I’m not acting for just myself.” He paused, glanced down at the Joker, then asked almost conversationally, “Do you know how many people he’s killed?”

Another pause, but before Bruce could even try to answer, the entity continued, “Eight hundred and fifty-six. He’s ended the lives of eight hundred and fifty-six human souls. I can tell you about every single one, if you want. About who they were, what their dreams were before he killed them. About the pain they felt at his hands.”

He punctuated the word ‘pain’ by raising up the wooden bat in his hands and ramming its end down onto the Joker’s arm. He let out a wheeze, muffled by the gag in his mouth.

“I have a duty to my people. I am the King of the In-Between and of all the souls that pass through it—even ones whose stays were as brief as his. I am the rightful arbiter of his fate. And with that power, I sentence him to death.”

He raised the bat again, adjusting his grip so he’d hit with the side rather than the end this time, then paused and let out a chuckle. “Of course, just because it’s based on some justice doesn’t mean I can’t have a bit of fun with it too.” He swung the bat down, slamming it into the Joker’s side, then hooked it under the clown’s torso and flicked him up through the air to slam into the wall. “We all really hate this guy.”

With the entity’s attention fully turned away from him as he sauntered towards the Joker’s slumped figure, Bruce could finally unfreeze himself.

Even if the Ghost King did have the right to pass judgement on Joker, Bruce still couldn’t let torture go on like this. He wouldn’t win a direct fight, but he could hopefully at least grab the Joker and bring him over to the police. Carefully, he reached for some of the smoke bombs and batarangs on his belt and readied his grapple. He’d have to do this very, very fast.

But before he could move, another figure entered the scene. Red Hood, emerging from the shadows on the far side of the room, an unexpected bit of a pep to his step.

“Nice to see someone else who gets that that bastard needs to die. But if I may make a suggestion, how ‘bout you use a crowbar instead of that old bat? It’d be a bit more… fitting.”

[moodyseal]

TOApril Day 28 - Under The Stars

Last drawing of the revolution series!! Wasn't supposed to be a series originally but I got too excited

I made many sketches before I settled on this version and while I didn't like the angle in one of them bc I use it too often I did like the expression so I'm sharing it anyway <3

[agendratum]

lee know’s underappreciated dad jokes collection (3/?)

[yb-cringe]

i think whats always made me the most emotional about qsmp characters and players alike leaving is that it feels so much more. personal. a bit more gutting when it comes to the way qsmp functions.

the reason this server was made in the first place was to make connections between players that CANT happen anywhere else. or rather, are very difficult to maintain.

it's hard to consistently stay in contact with people who don't speak the same language as you. qsmp made a point to force those people to interact and everything else was just.. trying to soften the harder edges of communicating that don't happen elsewhere.

and its simultaneously beautiful and horribly horribly painful. because the world outside of qsmp isn't very accommodating. and often, as these are content creators with Lives, they don't have time to really maintain every friendship they ever make.

It's why maxo and jaiden and richas and pomme and dapper etc-- its why every death or absence from the server is so gutting. because you know when they leave, that this just /cant/ happen again.

i'm not saying this to be. doomposty. i know that's kinda what it sounds like. i think pepito said it great already; that new memories can be made and we can love the old ones.

i think what im getting at is that clawing back to a time that's passed won't make us happy, it won't take us back there. you gotta just keep moving forward. qsmp is changing a lot. it wont ever be like it was last year. that doesn't mean it can't be good later.

we're going to lose creators and characters and things that remind us VERY heavily of the times where we had friends that we drifted from or lost because of one thing or another.

but you gotta remember there will be more people who you will love too. new people, who won't fill that space but occupy something new because fun fact you don't ever run out of space for that sort of thing.

be sad theyre gone be happy they're doing well remember the memories fondly but keep moving. unfortunately a lot of qsmp has ended up being about letting things go.

its like the. 'its going to be okay. but its going to be different.' and. skdfjds idk i hope thats a hopeful enough note to make things better.

[astralzeraphias]

“he was mentally ill. this monster was a- was a sick fantasy. a product of his dementia.”

“…i saw it too. does that make me disturbed? demented? does… that make me sick too?”

[sugarskies]

spooning (john's version)

summary: bob sneaks into john's room for cuddles. word count: 962 notes: yes, this is also part of the diversionverse aka a loosely connected series of one-shots that can be read in any order.

He didn’t understand it the first time.

Bob sneaked into his room half past midnight, wearing boxers and an oversized Avengerz t-shirt Alexei gave to him. It wasn’t the first time he’d come in without warning. The difference was that he usually cut right to the chase. He’d pull off his shirt, climb on top of John, and kiss him like it was the last time.

They never talked about feelings. It wasn’t supposed to be about that. They were just using each other, just friends who occasionally fucked to distract each other from self-destructive temptations. So, yes, John was confused when Bob crawled into his bed, wrapped his arms around John’s stomach, and buried his face in his chest without a word.

John held him for a full minute before his confusion took over his mouth and he inelegantly asked if Bob wanted to be fucked. Bob said no and nuzzled deeper into his arms. Neither of them spoke another word for the rest of the night. When John woke up the next morning alone, he felt like something was missing. He worried it was a once in a lifetime event, that he’d never hold Bob like that again.

(And he shouldn’t have cared, because it really wasn’t about feelings. He didn’t have feelings for Bob. Bob was just a really good friend. Yeah, John had been inside him, but it wasn’t like that. They were just fucking. Like when guys in the Army would masturbate together to let off steam.)

Except it wasn’t the last time. It took a few days but then Bob came back again. And again. And then when he didn’t come in for cuddles for a week, John mustered up the courage to go to his room. It wasn’t the first time he’d done it, after all. Technically, John had started the whole cuddling thing—albeit unintentionally.

He’d gone into Bob’s room with the intention of asking for a quickie, something he’d done a handful of times before. But when he saw Bob with his perfectly messy hair and his big, cozy sweatshirt, something came over him. He laid down beside Bob, wrapped his arms around him, and pulled him in close to his stomach. And fuck if it wasn’t the best sleep he’d had in years.

They kept doing it after that. Both of them. It wasn’t every night, but it went from some nights to most nights over the course of a month. Either John would crawl into Bob’s bed and spoon him, or Bob would crawl into John’s bed and tuck himself into his arms. That night, it was the latter; Bob nuzzled his face into the crook of John’s bare shoulder, the tips of his fingers digging into his back.

“Are you all right?” asked John, still clinging to the idea that maybe Bob was only in there for comfort. That maybe he was still using him but in a different way. Bob nodded, inhaled deeply as he slid his left leg between John’s. “Just insomnia?”

“No, no reason,” Bob mumbled. He kissed John’s neck, left his lips against his skin for far longer than he needed to. “I like listening to your heartbeat.”

And then John did what he never did, and he kissed the top of Bob’s head while he was still awake. John always kissed Bob before he fell asleep, regardless of whose bed they were in, but he waited until Bob was out first. That night felt different, somehow; like Bob gave him permission through his gentle touch.

It was confusing, the way he felt so comfortable with his arms around Bob. Sometimes he disliked his body. Disliked the way he thought he’d let himself go since the divorce, since everything that happened before that. But the way Bob fit so perfectly against his belly, beneath his arms, made him feel like everything about him was just right.

He wanted to ask if Bob felt the same way. If he felt relief from his dysmorphia when he laid with John, when they curled their bodies around each other. He almost did, but then he reminded himself that they didn’t talk about feelings. They didn’t have feelings for each other. They couldn’t have feelings for each other.

They were just fucking. And kissing. And cuddling. Not because it was romantic but because they were both touch-starved and desperate and found out mostly by accident that their sex was really good. It was good because it wasn’t emotional. It didn’t have anything attached to it. If Bob woke up the next morning and told John he never wanted to do any of it again, he wouldn’t care at all.

(But he would. He would care a lot. It might even break his heart; the same heart Bob was listening to. So, he kissed the top of Bob’s head one more time and pulled him in closer to make sure he knew that John really liked it when they cuddled. Even if he didn’t let himself think about why he liked it when they cuddled.)

“So, you just came in here because…?”

Bob didn’t answer with his words. He moved his left hand to John’s neck, held him just beneath his ear as he turned his lips into the spot between his neck and his shoulder. Bob kissed him once, then just lingered, his mouth slightly open, and his breath warm and ticklish. His eyes drifted shut as he slid back down, kissed John’s collarbone and his right pec before he snuggled back into place.

That was all it took for John to decide that it didn’t matter. He didn’t care why Bob was in his bed or why they held each other so tightly. He only cared that they did.

[angronius]

ok last batch of lil concepts

[boar-sjn]

after death ; life again.

what a lovely bouquet! what's the occasion?

[janearts]

TL;DR: Roisia still doesn't think of any gods outside of Kelemvor. If she holds any other gods in contempt, it's a fleeting feeling because her thoughts of other gods are just as impermanent. More detailed analysis under the read-more.

***

Roisia's role as her mother's successor (and therefore a future Cleric of Kelemvor) meant that she was devoted to Kelemvor from a young age. So although Roisia wasn't ignorant of the other gods in the Faerûnian pantheon, she didn't spare them a second thought. Why would she? Kelemvor was front and centre to everything she was, everything she wanted to be.

I'm not sure if I've ever talked about the way that Roisia has some degree of emotional and cognitive dissonance when it comes to her faith and her career as a Necromancer. When Roisia raised her father from the dead and then doubled down on her pursuit of Necromancy, she effectively broke from Kelemvor, destroyed her Clerical future, and became godless. But she's still someone who prays to Kelemvor like he'll have an ear out for her. There's still something that remains comforting about the habit of worshipping Kelemvor, even though, when she thinks about it, she knows that her god would despise her for what she does and continues to do with abandon (raise the dead and bend the rules around death).

Roisia is effectively godless—a dangerous thing to be in this dangerous world when she knows that Kelemvor, the god whose tenets she broke, judges souls. But Roisia has had a hard time committing to another god in the pantheon. It somehow, still feels wrong to her. Much like picking a life partner, , Roisia just can't seem to select one and commit.

If she were, like she did for her "#4"s, write down her options, it would look something like this:

Bane: Talked to her. Said she was already of his ilk. A possibility.

Deneir: Scholarly and arcane. But what if she didn't want to just record knowledge, but practise it?

Jergal: If desperate. [FYI: Not 100% sure Roisia would've puzzled Withers out. Roisia would likely believe them to be a high-ranking priest of Jergal.]

Leira: Possibly, provided one has a sense of humour. (After all, in a sense, much of Roisia's life is a lie!)

Myrkul: Probably the most sensible choice of the lot. Still wants to cremate his bones for funsies for snubbing her.

Mystra: Also a practical choice, although considering Gale's history with the goddess, not Roisia's first choice.

Tymora: Again, if one has a sense of humour. (Because Roisia is, in a sense, gambling with her very soul.)

Waukeen: Once more, if one has a sense of humour, because Roisia still wants to have a thriving funerary business while also raising the dead in her own backyard graveyard.

[amogus-real-not-clickbait]

part 1 of a little comic / art sequence that i've been working on! :D it's part tribute, part experimenting with brushes n colors and trying new thingz :]

| 1 | 2 | 3 | ... |

and thus continues my endless quest of spreading the carrot fics like a plague! if you've seen my art floating around you probs already figured that this au holds a very special place in my heart, forever and always!!

if you haven't heard of it, it's a fic series by @crowned-ladybug called carrot soup!! it made me wish i could speak colors and i need more people to share my struggle xd

go check it out if you're into sweet voice lore and qpr level gayness and just wanna feel warm and soft and warm (hurt/comfort my beloved) <333 there are some heavier themes cos everyone's traumatized but they're working through it! be sure to check the tags and stay safe! <3

[charmac]

I hate to defend Rob but seeing Sunny teens on Twitter try to speculate he isn't "speaking up" about voting because he's hiding being a secret Trump supporter is so insanely ridiculous when campaign contributions in the United States is public information:

(Yeah. That's a $100,000.00 donation to a grassroots victory fund, on top of a ton of donations to swing states.)

It's almost like making public political statements on social media is heavily advised against when you're a showrunner/employer to hundreds of people.

[bunabi]

Lordy I feel you wrt to Dragon Age craziness -- the last few days I've been chewing on the walls wondering what Mythal's reckoning, the reckoning that apparently would've "shake[n] the very heavens" was supposed to entail. What would that have looked like???? I guess we'll never know!!!!

Real. You can't have Flemeth scream "she was betrayed, as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed" and not only avoid elaborating but make it seem so ? inconsequential.

Veilguard is all about characters succeeding where their mirror/foil/counterpart failed, I get that, but making Morrigan an exception to Mythal's influence was so silly.

Let me get this straight. Mythal's will was strong enough to bind Solas to her service. Strong enough to make Flemeth devote her existence to vengeance. But motherly love protected Morrigan. She's just. Completely unaffected. Like what do you meannnn. 😩

[egophiliac]

i don't think u need to worry about poppy ikemen anymore, new ride kamens character is kr kamui who is our lord and savior dan kuroto

DAN THE DANGEROUS ZOMBIE MAN!!!!!! I was SO excited when I saw the reveal, he is absolutely the funniest possible character choice hands-down. oh my god. I'm so glad he made it into this game.

also Kamui just looks incredible. instant favorite. this is the kind of man I can picture standing naked on a cliffside and screaming at everyone about his imminent ascension towards godhood. he is the incarnation of that one iconic Gina Linetti scene.