#BUT YOU. YOU. UGHHHH

[evilbabyblanket]

YOU DUMBASS!!!! (Affectionate) YOU DUMBASS WATCH WHERE YOURE GOINF!’nn YOU DUMBASS ONSERVE YOUR SURROUNDINGS!!!! STOP RUNNING! GIRL LOOK TO YOUR LEFT GIRL WAIT GIRL d STOP FUCKING . GIRL WAIR. GIRL W

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 2x03 - “Finally Got The Name Right”

[misslovasstuff]

GUYS GUYS SOMEBODY SAID THAT SANJI ALWAYS LEAVES HIS RING FINGER OPEN

[sourlemonadez]

Slight Secret of the Mimic spoilers

A little follow up to my previous post where I got the idea with the baby pictures including my sona THIS IS SO DUMB LMAOAOA

[wintermav]

Alcohol can't kill Logan, but it can affect him. Wade can't kill Logan, but he can—oh.

[baba-is-blog]

WEATHER IS SNOW

MONTH IS APRIL

BABA IS CONFUSED

[chrissy-kaos]

Why is it so fucking hard to find a guy to come clap some cheeks around these parts.. like come on. I’m not even that intimidating stop being a pussy and let’s goo!

[vanishintoyou]

oh my fucking god i don't have any clothesssss

[soulsforsales]

Two things I’ll never understand:

Jason Todd being a “womaniser”

Idk wtf dc is on with this one but Jason Todd is not and never will be a womaniser. Like that man might be a 6 foot wall of muscles, trauma, and repressed emotions but he has zero to no experience when it comes to sex. He died as a virgin and was resurrected as one, he was groomed by Talia (acc to some canon representations, I think) so he already didn’t think of sex as this amazing or perfect thing and even if he does have sex where he feels comfortable and safe — he will cry, like who are you kidding??? Jason has mentioned that he can’t distinguish between romantic and platonic love, he’s always been too focused on his missions/job/goal to care about romance— where in the fucking hell is this guy getting time to fuck around with women??? Dc??? wtf????

Jason Todd being a cheater.

I get why people think this bcs other males in the Bat Family have not always been very… faithful, let’s say. But Jason Todd cheating on his woman??? NO FUCKING WAY. This man has had no glimpse of what a healthy and safe relationship is supposed to look like and if he finds someone who gives him that??? If he finds someone who loves him unconditionally, someone who sees behind the mask and loves the broken boy, someone who doesn’t flinch even when all of him is bare— I bet you my biscuits Jason would never even look at someone else let alone think about cheating. Jason Todd is not just any men — he’s the man. He’ll worship someone who gives him the love he’s always been deprived of. When he loves someone, he’s all in. He loves fiercely and loudly; that’s just who Jason Todd is. He’s never cheating. Period.

[dizzybizz]

hes all bundled up n cozy. good for him

[bonesandthebees]

ao3 commenters PSA: even on older fics with a ton of comments the authors still get the notifs for every single comment

re: the person who just left a multi paragraph comment on one of my older fics talking about how much they disliked the ending and detailing several alternate endings they came up with instead that they thought would be better, and ending the comment with "no one is going to see this but oh well" authors see your comments yes even on old fics and it really doesn't feel good to see a comment like that even years after I finished the fic

[sunny-knight]

THIS IS HOME

@forgettable-au Fan-Animatic ⭐️

The stars welcome him with open arms…

Work and Progress + Analysis below!

You can find the work in progress things here! because I wanna show the sketch animatic and you can only upload one video…

The entire idea was inspired off of THIS lovely little qna written a bit ago! havnt forgotten about it since! Despite what the AU might have you believe And recently I decided I could just draw out the fun part instead of go through the pain of storyboarding and cleaning up a nearly 4 minute long song 👍👍👍

Thats the idea though, theres no real plot, so no real context I can give other than the things the comic itself already provides. “This Is Home” just works incredibly well for this poor childs trauma, and it was a great opportunity to practice my composition and storytelling!!

Onto the deep analysis of every frame individually!!! (this is normal. this happens every time.)

The idea that Wingdings just eventually- gave up. Trying to connect with anyone. HURTS ME DEEPLY. I’m not sure if thats specifically because he just couldn’t get the font thing down, but I imagine that was a big contributing factor. But thats what specifically stops him here. He eventually slams his keys down on the board and says “IM DONE” and throws himself into a thing he can purely enjoy on his own- science. Even at a young age, I feel he only had 2 lives. One with Sans, and one with science. Then when those worlds combined when he became the royal scientist uhhh- I imagine it got worse.

Speaking of his young age, In these shots he’s also notably a tad older than the later depictions of his younger self with the scarf. Less full of joy and whimsy

“His mind is in a different place” is taken a tad more negatively than in the context of the song I feel, as he’s more or less isolated himself from everyone (but Sans) now in this “giving up” phase of his childhood. I wonder how Sans noticed/took that and if he tried to convince him otherwise, but in this case he just thinks he needs some time to himself.

Also let it be known that the words being crammed in at the “Give him a little bit of space” bit is on PURPOSE and a SILLY LITTLE JOKE/VISUAL GAG GIVEN THE LINE. I AM SO FUNNY.

The colors are also notably dark blues, that get greyer when Wingdings has given up. The light that Sans lets in ((looks into the camera, tearing up)) is still pretty cold despite it being brighter.

The berating is also in uppercase to show most of this is from Wingdings’ pov- I know he speaks in proper casing at this time, but I NEED SOME SORT OF INDICATOR, WORK WITH ME HERE. His main issue was his own self consciousness and desire to communicate properly, since it was said before on the blog that no one really picked on him for his inability to talk to them.

Then we have Papyrus!! The colors are similarly blue, but a lot brighter and a touch purpler and greener. Its from the same world, but not the same person. Also he’s wearing a yellow vest which is the complimentary color to blue ☝️

Papyrus is more heavily associated with warm colors in contrast to Wingdings, but this takes place very early on when he was very confused where his place was (or at least I assume thats what happened). He’s associating with warm colors (yellow) but is somewhat weary about it and still subconsciously clutching onto the comfort in familiarity.

The scene ofc depicts Papyrus being incredibly uncomfortable about any photos of himself as a child. It still definitely…looooks… like him. it just feels really wrong.

Similar thing to last time with the fonts as well, uppercase, Papyrus’ pov, he just wants to know who/WHAT he is.

I enjoy the colors in the photo and how they reallly stand out from the rest of the shot, just another emphasis that the photo feels otherworldly to Papyrus.

This is the part where I start weeping pitifully. The tiny Wingdings to Gaster comparison- it’s just so upsetting, I want to know what this poor child would think if he saw what he ends up as 😭

Wingdings enjoyed dreaming about the real stars he MIGHT get to see one day with Sans. The scene is dark, as it still hasnt happened yet, but still bright and hopeful as he stares up at the light! Its always a possibility. But then we have Gaster, who finally did it. He reached the stars, he gets to look up and say “wow…. I really did it”. Staring up at the void before him. Without Sans…I feel he wouldn’t ponder on it much, and consciously he doesn’t see anything bad about his circumstances, but the crack going down his eye that elludes to a tear says otherwise in the suppressed emotions.

The world Wingdings lived in when he was small, seemed so endless…Despite the underground being small compared to the real world, his imagination was endless. He could dream, he could imagine, and create things, get and give new ideas! But now as an adult that just so happens to be a lovecraftian entity, everything is much more simple and straightforward. At least from his perspective…Gaster may be able to DO way more than he ever could as a small child, but his mind is pretty one track at this point.

I wonder how Gaster feels…Now that they’ve gotten to the surface. without him

Im not sure how Papyrus in the game or even in the comic feels about stars, but Sans for one doesnt have to daydream anymore. They’ve also “done it” just like Gaster, but the hug insinuates less of that and more a “we WON”. They share in this moment together more emotionally than anything.

Again, compared to Gaster and them, they enjoy the moment in their own ways- Gaster just the action of seeing the stars, and Papyrus in what the moment itself means. I feel those are the 2 wants Wingdings had and thats a lot of what Papyrus and Gaster are. 2 halfs of Wingdings’…whole…thing

Also the stars welcoming him with open arms is both in reference to Sans but also Papyrus welcoming/accepting/loving himself…

IN CONCLUSION:

…yknow ive never asked before, but if anyone has any questions or needs clarification im happy to-

[orions-beltloops]

ofmd officially over everyone :((((((

[mihanisms]

are you hearing things? certainly, an intruder didn’t break into your house just to clean up the mess you’d left behind this morning and cook your favorite dish, did they? no…unless this intruder was really, really nice and somehow knew you inside out.

but then it hits you.

caleb.

that's the only thought in your head as you rush over to the kitchen, stopping in the middle as you see your husband in a fucking apron, cutting up vegetables on the kitchen counter.

he looks up as soon as he hears your footsteps stop, a big, satisfied smirk on his face. yet despite the smugness, his expression is tender, displaying a love that makes your chest tighten with familiarity. before either of you can say a word, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and immediately melt into his touch.

he's warm, and most of all, real. in your arms. no words are said—they're not even needed as he returns your embrace, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing you to him like a long-lost piece of himself finally returned. you sink into the quiet gravity of his hold, the space between you dissolving as you breathe in each other's presence. time feels like it's folding in on itself—only the steady rise and fall of his breath tethering you to the moment, to him, to home.

you decide to break the silence, your hands gripping tighter on his clothes, voice muffled by your face in the crook of his neck. "caleb. you’re early. you’re- you're here." the words are slightly cracked, tinted with a quiet desperation and disbelief that has your heart pounding in your chest, still processing what was happening.

caleb only holds you closer, his voice thick with similar emotions. "'course i am, honey. wouldn't trade this for the world." he presses a soft kiss to your head, his hands gently running down your sides and stopping at your waist. he pulls away to look you in the eyes, his gaze filled with something so soft you could almost feel it in your hands. "the expedition ended early. i got home as soon as i could to surprise you."

your eyes drift up and down his face, his neck, any piece of him available to you—you drink it in, relishing in the man before you like a traveler would an oasis in the desert. you swallow, throat thick with longing as you struggle to say another full sentence.

but it doesn't matter, not when he knows exactly what you want to say. your emotions are written on your face, woven into every action, and even without words, caleb can feel it in the space between you, his heart long since in tune with yours.

taking a deep breath, you manage to speak, sniffling. "i was- i was counting down the days. i thought you wouldn't be home for at least a few more weeks-"

caleb only grins softly, tenderly slipping his hand beneath your shirt to feel your skin on his. "you know me, honey. i can't just stay away from you." he punctuates his words with a soft caress up your back, tracing your spine and sending a shiver through your body. it grounds you, his actions and affections so familiar and yet so unreal in the moment.

a small laugh manages to bubble from your lips, relieved and stupefied. you pull him in again, feeling his heartbeat against yours. he's here. all of him.

and suddenly, the exhaustion of the past few weeks, the impatience, the longing, the loneliness—it all fades away, and you're left with something that is so unmistakably home, because you're in his arms.

he lets out a relieved sigh of his own, chuckling slightly and shifting his body to better accommodate yours. in doing so, you're pulled away from him just slightly, the glint of something floating in the air catching your eye. your brows furrow together as the object catches your interest, peeking out at it from above caleb's arms.

a knife.

a floating knife.

you blink. your mind is still catching up with everything, but the sight of a knife hovering a few steps away from you—completely still, suspended in midair—pulls you out of your processing period. your brows furrow even further, your head stiffly moving to look up at your husband.

"caleb...?" as of that moment, his tender gaze had turned into a suppressed grin, his eyes twinkling with that mischievous glint you knew so well. his hands squeeze your sides, voice teasing and lilted. "'sup, honeybunch? still need proof it's really me?"

your eyes flick between the knife and him, your voice slow and hesitant. "caleb, why is there a knife next to us right now?"

he laughs, and it's a warm sound that dissipates any tension in your body, a small smile pulling up at your lips despite the confusion. he leans in with a smirk, shrugging and ruffling your hair as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. "i don't know baby, you were pretty eager to get me in your arms. didn't stop to think twice that i was cutting up some veggies."

your face flushes as you process that he had only used his evol to move the knife he was holding away from the both of you. "...oh," is all you manage to squeak out as he laughs again, gently tugging on your hair to tilt your head upwards and to land a kiss on your forehead.

caleb smirks, his own gaze flickering between the knife and you, "someone had to make sure you didn’t end up with a gash on your hand while trying to tackle me."

you shake your head, still smiling and now slightly flushed due to his actions. "sorry, it was all just..." he cuts you off with a finger to your lips, grinning at the cute sight of your face. "there's no need for an apology, honey. i'm just doing my job as your husband."

he steps forward, the knife gently floating back down onto the counter with a soft clink as he places his hand beneath your chin. "our kitchen is quite the dangerous place, you know."

the playful edge in his voice and the cheeky grin on his face make you laugh, a soft, breathless sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. you shake your head, amusement dancing in your eyes as you finally take in your surroundings—the seasoned chicken resting in the bowl, the steam curling from the bubbling pot of your favorite broth on the stove, and most of all, the warm, inviting scent of home.

it isn't just the food or the careful way he’s prepared everything for you. it’s him, standing there, grounding you in a moment that feels almost too good to be real. the weight of missing him lingers faintly in your chest, but it’s lightened by the fact that, for the first time in weeks, he’s here.

caleb's eyes wash over you with amusement, his head tilting as his thumb caresses your cheek before gently pressing into your skin, affectionately squeezing your face. "you okay there, pips? looks like you're about to start crying over dinner."

his teasing lingers for only a second before something shifts. his touch, once playful, turns softer—more deliberate. his hands come up to cradle your face fully, his warmth seeping into your skin. it's only then that you realize why his expression has changed.

you were crying.

warm, salty tears are trickling down your face as you try to deny your current state, your lips trembling as you let out a shaky laugh. "ah, i’m-," you start off, but the crack in your voice betrays you. you sniffle, swiping at your face, affection and frustration mixing in your expression. "it’s not-”

but caleb just smiles, thumbs brushing away the tears before they can fall any further. "i know," he murmurs, voice as warm as his touch. "i know, baby."

caleb doesn’t say anything else—he doesn’t need to. instead, he pulls you in, pressing his lips gently to your forehead, letting them linger there for a few precious moments. his touch is grounding, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself lean into it completely.

his fingers stroke along your back in soothing circles, a silent reassurance that he’s real, that he’s with you. and you believe it. because how could you not, when his presence feels like the most tangible thing in the world?

after a few quiet breaths, he pulls away just enough to meet your gaze again, studying your face with something soft and knowing. “feeling a little better?”

you sniffle, nodding as you wipe at your eyes again. “yeah. just… didn’t expect this.”

he grins, his thumb grazing over your cheekbone one last time before he finally steps back, hands slipping down to rest at your waist. “well, i was hoping for a ‘wow, my incredibly handsome husband is the best for surprising me like this!’ but i guess tears of joy work too.”

you roll your eyes, though there’s no real annoyance behind it. “if you wanted me to swoon, you should’ve walked in with flowers, colonel.”

caleb lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “damn, should’ve known i was dealing with high standards.”

“very high,” you confirm, the ghost of a smile tugging at your lips.

he huffs out a laugh before squeezing your waist one last time and turning back to the counter. “cmon, pips. go set the table before you start crying again.”

you mumble sarcastically but oblige, pulling out the plates and utensils while he goes back to cooking. the kitchen is quiet save for the soft sounds of bubbling broth and the rhythmic chop of his knife against the cutting board.

it’s a comfortable kind of quiet—the kind that settles lovingly in your ribs, wrapping around your heart like the warmest embrace.

and when you finally sit down for dinner, across from the man who makes your world feel so much brighter just by being in it, you realize that no matter how long he’s gone, no matter how much you miss him, this moment will always come back to you.

because caleb always comes back to you.

[wintermav]

Hugh Jackman casually admitting he’s a slut. Dare I add… a preening one? (pt. 1 and pt. 3)

[arkhambug]

JASON TODD yearns for you.

like actually, truly yearns.

it’s not lust, or having, or craving your skin or body — it’s needing. needing for your hand in his, your arms around his shoulders, his face in the crook of your neck. needing, so intense that the first time he can put a word to it he feels like a fucking character in a romance novel.

because who the hell yearns if they aren’t? and when the hell did he start to consider himself romantic enough to fucking yearn for you like a forlorn widow?

he doesn’t know. but he does.

fuck, he does.

jason yearns for the way you laugh, head tipped forward as you wheeze at the stupidest shit. he yearns for that look you give him when he says something out of pocket, upper lip curled in disgust and brows knitted together. it’s like he can see the words ‘he’s trying to give me an aneurism’ tattooed on your forehead.

he yearns for the way you sleep, clothes and covers a mess because you never stay still, and drool pooling in the corner of your lips. he yearns to swipe it away, to press the pad of his thumb to your chin and wipe at your skin so gently, and kiss you awake like a princess. he won’t wake you though. not with his silly romanticisms.

he yearns for the way you look in your ( his ) oversized shirts and your ratty pajamas you’ve had for way too long, the way your bonnet hides your hair and gives him the best view of your sleep flushed cheeks, the way you pick the crust from your eyes and blink up at him while you wobble into the kitchen before the sun is up.

he yearns for you on missions, and long patrols. yearns to just have you again. to be in your arms instead, to have his head on your tummy and his arms hooked around your back, pulling you so close as he breathes you in and settles his body between your thighs, because it’s his favorite way to fall asleep.

he yearns for your presence, for the damn sight of you. he yearns for your voice, and ‘yapping’, when he gets to hear every thought in that pretty head. he loves it. he yearns for your hand on his arm, for your thigh pressed against his while you sit, he yearns like a man starved.

and he is, starved of you, no matter how much he gets.

he would crawl into your ribs if he could, wedge himself into the most vulnerable part of you — deep in the cavities of your heart, behind your sternum and between your lungs, where he could feel that steady thrum of your pulse always, and know you’re alive, well, safe, his.

jason yearns for you. just yearns. he wants for you like it’s his religion, he needs for you like it’s devotional.

and you see it. you feel, in the way he keeps you close.

in the way he lets you touch him, baring the parts of himself that he can barely stand for you to caress and keen over because you like them so. he lets your fingernails scrape along his scalp, lets you press tender, gentle kisses to scars you know better than to ask about. he seeks it out.

in the way he takes care of you, always making sure you’ve eaten, offering to bring or make you food when you haven’t, always offering to do something for you, even if it’s just to keep you company while you start the laundry.

in the way he holds you, so tight, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. he presses every inch of himself to you that he can, like he wants to fuse the two of you together. you’d let him, if you could.

you feel it in the kisses he gives you, always somewhere you don’t expect — your eyelids, and the back of your neck, the shell of your ear when you’re trying to sleep, and the place between your shoulder blades — and his favorite, the palm of your hand, just like everytime you cradle his face.

it’s like he can’t bear you touching him so sweetly, without him touching you.

he always pulls your hand to his lips, eyes clamping shut like he’s trying to absorb you, fingers twisted with his as his lips press to your skin. every time.

and it’s like every kiss says something.

the apple of your cheek, ‘my heart’. the column of your throat, ‘my blood’. your shoulder, ‘my love’. the valley of your chest, ‘my breath’. the length of your arm, ‘my mercy’. the pulse point on your wrist, ‘my heaven’.

his favorite, your ring finger, the one he knows he’ll adorn one day, when you’re ready. ‘my life’.

jason peter todd yearns for you. his salvation, his saving, his grace, his life. for you.

A/N i am perpetuating the jason ‘yearning’ todd agenda one day at a time bitch. that man is NOT NONCHALANT in the goddamned slightest. he is the most loud and chalant man to ever exist and he loves HARD. like it’s his purpose bro

type of guy to loveeeee when you ask him dumbass shit like ‘would you put me in ur pocket’ because he can be like ‘yes!!!! yes i would!!!! take you everywhere with me!!!’