#bro had to do what bro had to do

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Everyone need to stop being so judgy about how bitchy Alpha-17 is, he’s just never gotten to experience the love and joy of having an entire strawberry cheesecake with whipped cream to himself. You’d want to blow up thousands of your unborn siblings intending to spare them from the even crueler hands of the enemy compared the brutality of your creators too if you’ve never had an ounce of sugar in your life, lay off my man.

[lotus-pear]

charm stat at debonair ‼️‼️

[thebrainrotsreal]

Was pondering how Mark’s rigid ass mask/lens is prob a Budget Thing (since squishy, bendy lens are pretty much a mandate for all hero animated series, like JL, BTAS, TNBA, Spider-Man, etc), and then I was slapped with a vision of Mark in a more JL/BTAS-ish style and I had to see it through. I am a genius btw.

[chiisanajimi]

hey do these hedgehogs seem a little gay to you guys idk

[1-800-luvmail]

gimme frank castle and reader who's a DORK.

frank castle, who listens with full attentiveness whenever you start talking about whatever obsession's got you in an iron grip lately

frank castle, who loves those passionate rambles, adores the way your eyes light up as you discuss things that most people hardly think of, much less dissect.

frank castle, who only actually cracks an amused grin when you're pissed off about something.

"that writer totally mischaracterized them!" or "they would not fucking say that!" are some of his favourites.

frank castle who very quietly has beef with the very much fictional character that you're not-so-subtly in love with.

"now hEAR ME OUT—" ...absolutely not. why them???? he might even lightheartedly tease you about it. just to watch you flounder.

frank castle who doesn't give a FUCK about how silly your interests might seem to others. he's in full support. might've gotten you merch a few million times since you like it so much. nothing is cringe when it's you who loves it. he always finds your capacity to love endearing.

you managed to squeeze him into that heart of yours, after all.

[millermouth]

Part VI.V

Summary: The night began in chaos. After a tense, high-speed drive to the hospital, you labored through the night with Joel and Tommy at your side. Come morning, a surprise visitor appears at your door.

|| fluff, fmc is in labor, I am not a mom nor have I ever been in labor so please excuse my inaccuracies. ||

notes: mini chapter to ease some of the pain from p6!

Tommy’s white knuckles were only colored by the flashes of streetlights as he wove in and out of traffic like he was running from the law. The truck rumbled and swayed with every sharp lane change, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.

Meanwhile, Joel sat stiff in the passenger seat, one hand gripping the dash, the other braced against the back of Tommy’s seat as he twisted to look at you again. You were stretched out in the backseat, one hand clutching the door handle, the other pressed firm over your belly.

“Breathe, baby. Just keep breathing,” he said, voice low, trying to keep calm for your sake. You nodded half-heartedly, but then another contraction hit, tearing a groan out of you so raw it made his heart drop.

He turned forward again, eyes flicking to the speedometer.

“Jesus Christ, Tommy,” Joel muttered, ��you plannin’ to get us killed before we even hit the damn parking lot?”

Tommy didn’t look at him. Just kept staring down the road, jaw locked, foot iron heavy. “You wanna get there or not?”

“I’d prefer we get there in one fuckin’ piece.”

“Then quit distractin’ me and keep her focused.”

Joel made a frustrated noise under his breath, but he turned around anyway, checking on you again. You were trying to breathe through it, trying not to cry out, but it was clear you were barely holding on.

Tommy glanced up at the rearview. “You alright back there?”

You let out something that might’ve been an ‘uh-huh,’ but it cracked into a strangled whimper by the end. Joel reached for your hand that was on your swollen belly, covering it with his. “Almost there, sweetheart. You’re doin’ real good. Just hold on.”

“Almost?” Tommy barked, half-laughing, half-panicked. “We’re still fifteen goddamn minutes out and traffic’s backed up to hell.”

“Then maybe quit driving like it’s the Indy 500, might actually get there without flipping the truck,” Joel bit back.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about safety? After everything else you’ve done?”

Joel blinked, slow and sharp. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Tommy finally looked over, his eyes wild, his lip split and already starting to bruise. “Means maybe if you hadn’t stressed her out so bad, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with. You ever think about that? Stress-induced labor. Look it up.”

Joel’s lip curled, a bitter edge to his voice. “So now this is my fault?”

Tommy scoffed. “Sure as hell ain’t mine.”

Joel turned fully toward him now, his voice darkening. “You really wanna do this right now?”

“You’re the one who kept pushin’. Kept stirrin’ shit up between us. Came over drunk and reekin’ of the bar floor.”

“Oh, don’t start actin’ like you were some saint in all this.”

“I wasn’t the one—”

“Enough!” you cried suddenly, your voice cutting through the cab like a blade. Both men fell silent, eyes snapping to you.

You were hunched forward, teeth gritted, a fresh wave of pain pulling a sob from your chest. “Just—shut up. Both of you. This is no one’s fault. He’s jus-just early.” you tried to breathe, “So just get me to the fucking hospital.”

Joel immediately reached for you again, his voice softening like a switch flipped. “Alright. Alright, baby. You got it.”

Tommy swallowed hard and said nothing, just turned his eyes back to the road, white-knuckled all over again.

The hospital doors blew open. Bright fluorescent lights hit your eyes, too sharp after the darkness of the drive. Everything felt loud, voices layered on top of each other—nurses barking orders, the squeak of your shoes on tile, Tommy at the desk shouting at someone, Joel’s voice cutting through it all as he gripped your hand.

“Just breathe, baby,” he said, voice low and ragged. “You’re doing so good. Just breathe for me, alright?”

You didn’t remember the wheelchair. Only the sensation of motion, the floor rushing beneath you, the dizziness of being moved too fast when the world was already spinning. Joel was somewhere beside you, close and constant, Tommy on your other side.

It felt like you were underwater. The world narrowed to pain, pressure, the seizing of your body as another contraction stole the air from your lungs. You moaned low in your throat, teeth gritting as you folded in on yourself.

There were hands. One on your face, brushing sweat-drenched hair away. Another on your shoulder, grounding you. Joel’s hands, you thought. They were always there.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, “You’ve got this. Just keep breathing, sweetheart. That’s it. In… out…there you go.”

You didn’t even realize you were holding Tommy’s hand until he spoke beside you as they put you in the hospital bed.

“I’ve got you,” he said, tight and thick with emotion. “Gonna meet our boy soon, honey. C’mon now, you’re okay,”

You squeezed hard, unaware of the bruises you were probably leaving. Nurses kept glancing between the two men flanking you, but neither of them budged. They stayed close, with you, no matter what. 

Everything blurred together. You were trying to breathe through it all, tears streaming from your eyes before you even felt them welling. You were too far gone to think. Time slipped away from you in uneven gasps and ragged sobs.

Push.

Someone said it. Maybe more than once.

You bore down, trembling, sobbing, the world going white around the edges.

Another push. Another cry torn from your throat.

You did. You had to. And then again. You pushed until it felt like your body might tear apart, until you were sobbing openly and clawing at Joel’s shirt, until Tommy’s hand was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

And after hours of breathing and pushing and crying, the pressure left your body all at once. 

There was a beat of silence. Then a cry from below you—sharp, shrill, alive.

The entire room seemed to pause.

You slumped back against the bed, chest heaving, tears streaking hot down your cheeks. Joel’s laugh broke in your ear, breathless and choked. You turned your head toward the sound, only half-conscious.

Somewhere beyond the ringing in your ears, someone was saying something. Healthy, breathing, strong. 

Someone brought the baby to you. Warm, wet, crying from being brought into a new world.

You let out a broken sob as they laid him on your chest, his tiny lungs howling against your skin. You didn’t even realize you were crying until Joel’s hand wiped at your cheek.

“There he is,” Joel murmured, wonder in his voice. “You did it. You did so good, baby.”

You could barely see him through the blur of tears, but when you did, he looked wrecked. His face was flushed and damp besides the redness of the hits he took, his eyes red-rimmed, his expression soft in a way you’d never seen before.

He pressed his hand gently over yours, helping you cradle the baby closer.

Tommy was still holding on too, his other hand on your shoulder now, but you weren’t looking at anyone. Just the tiny face nestled against you, mouth open in protest, fists trembling with life.

Everything else fell away. The pain, the noise, the bright lights and the blood. All of it quieted as you cried and cried, holding the little boy you’d waited so long to meet.

And through it all, neither of them let go.

The morning light poured softly through the blinds, golden and slow, as if the world outside had the courtesy to match the quiet stillness in the room. Nurses had come and gone. The monitors beeped a little less urgently now. Your body ached in places you hadn’t even known could ache.

Your baby slept against your chest, warm and impossibly small, his breath rising in slow, shallow waves. You shifted just enough to look down at him, your fingers brushing lightly over his soft cheek, then along the delicate curve of his ear. He didn’t stir. Just let out a tiny sigh, his lips parted slightly, pink and perfect.

You traced the bridge of his nose, the gentle slope of his brow, the faintest suggestion of lashes already curling against his skin. His skin was soft, like nothing you’d ever touched before—like velvet and milk and something too new for words. His tiny hand rested over your collarbone, his fingers curled in a loose fist, barely the size of your thumb.

You couldn’t stop staring.

This was him.

He was real.

And somehow, he was yours.

You were barely holding onto wakefulness when a knock sounded at the door. Not a nurse’s knock, but lighter. Almost hesitant.

Before anyone could answer, the door creaked open and a familiar voice cut through the sleepy hush.

“Hi.”

You blinked. Sarah stepped into the room, her backpack still slung over one shoulder, a cardigan half-buttoned over her school clothes. Her hair was pulled back in a messy braid, cheeks pink from the morning air.

Joel straightened where he’d been hovering near the window, like he couldn’t quite decide whether to sit or pace. “Sarah?”

“I called you,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “You texted you were coming to the hospital and then didn’t answer me. I caught the early bus.”

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed. “Right, shit. Sorry.”

She stepped over to Tommy first, wrapping him in a hug before he could say anything. “Congrats, Uncle Tommy,” she smiled, though her eyes flicked curiously between him and her dad. “You both look like hell. What happened to you two?”

Tommy gave a low laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Long story.”

“Very long,” Joel echoed, clearing his throat.

Sarah tilted her head, eyebrows raised, but didn’t press.

Then she turned and saw you, her expression shifting immediately and softening with wide-eyed awe. She stepped toward your bedside like she was approaching something sacred. 

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” you managed, your voice a little hoarse.

She leaned down and half-hugged you without jostling the baby. “He’s so beautiful,” she whispered, eyes going to the tiny bundle in your arms.

You nodded, emotion thick in your throat.

“Does he have a name?” she asked.

You glanced at Tommy beside you, then over at Joel who was standing near the window again, hands on his hips. “Still haven’t decided,” you admitted. “Though the nurse is gonna be back soon, demanding something official.”

You looked up at her then, “Do you want to hold him?”

Her eyes widened even further, “Are you…are you sure?”

You nodded, jerking your head lightly toward the armchair in the corner, “Go ahead n’ sit. Joel? Give me a hand?”

Sarah scurried to the armchair in the corner, all nervous energy and fidgeting hands. Wordlessly, Joel stepped over to you, his hands steady as they slid beneath the baby’s head, his fingers brushing against yours, warm and careful in their gentleness. He carried the baby over, crouched to explain how to hold her arms just so, and then settled the tiny bundle in Sarah’s lap. She curled her arms around him, her whole world narrowing to this single, impossible moment.

You watched as the room went still.

It wasn’t a heavy silence, not really. It’s warm. Full. Everyone seemed caught under the same spell. Sarah, her arms careful and sure around your son. Tommy, smiling in a way you hadn't seen him smile in a long time. Even you, wrapped in a quiet awe that made it hard to breathe.

But when you finally looked up, you caught Joel’s gaze—and he wasn’t looking at the baby.

He was looking at you.

Something passed through his eyes, something so unbearably soft it made your throat tighten. He looked… grateful. He looked haunted. Like he had a hundred things he wanted to say but knew this wasn't the time. So he just held your gaze for a long moment until, after a long beat, Tommy’s voice cut through, a little too loud in the hush.

“You eaten breakfast yet, kid?” he asked, glancing at Sarah.

She shook her head sheepishly, a small, guilty smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her fingers trailed across the hem of the blankets in her lap as she looked up at him, then down again.

Tommy grunted as he pushed up from his chair, dusting his palms over his jeans. “Think the cafeteria’s open by now. C’mon. I’ll take ya.”

Sarah carefully handed the baby back toward Joel. He moved without hesitation, cradling the newborn in his arms like he was something precious. Something he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed to touch.

You watched Tommy and Sarah walk toward the door, her voice a soft murmur you couldn’t catch. Tommy paused, glancing back over his shoulder at you as he held it open for her. His eyes held steady on yours. “We’ll be back,” he promised.

You nodded and they slipped out into the hallway.

The door swung shut with a soft click, and the room was left in that stillness again. Morning light stretched long across the bed, brushing over your bed sheets and Joel’s boots where he stood.

He made his way back over, slow and cautious, his eyes never leaving the baby’s face. That quiet awe was still there, softening the hard lines of his features. He didn’t speak as he approached, but you saw the way his gaze tracked every inch of the newborn like he was memorizing him. Like some part of him still believed this might not last. You just watched him. You watched the way the bruise on his cheek had darkened, the exhaustion in his eyes, the worn expression that had settled into his face like it belonged there. But it wasn’t just tiredness. There was something else just beneath the surface. Guilt. Uncertainty. The sharp edge of nerves that he hadn’t quite shaken.

No one had mentioned the fight from the night before. In the chaos of labor and everything that followed, no one had found the space to say it aloud. And you were grateful. Grateful that, for now, it could wait.

Joel leaned down and settled the newborn back against your chest, so careful and gentle in his movements. Once the baby was settled into your chest, Joel began to step back. Not…far, but enough to start retreating. You saw the way his eyes darted to the floor, his hands flexing open and closed like he didn’t know what to do with them now. The only sounds in the room were of the baby’s breathing filling the room, tiny little sighs that made something in your chest ache. 

You reached for him. Your hand found his wrist, fingers brushing warm skin and wiry hair. He stilled under your touch, breath catching slightly. You let your hand trail upward, sliding along his forearm, anchoring him. You looked at his face, waiting to meet his eyes—but he wouldn’t look at you.

Still, he let you pull him in.

Joel knelt beside the bed, as if unsure whether he was allowed to come any closer, and your hand moved gently to cup his face. The scruff of his beard scratched against your palm as you laid your fingers along his jaw, and for a second, he just breathed.

“Look at him,” you murmured, your gaze never leaving Joel’s face. He followed your cue, looking down at the baby again. A long breath left him, his shoulders lowering, his brow drawing in as something in him buckled in him. Not broken, but loosened. Softened.

“Look what you gave me,” you said, “Gave us.”

You smiled faintly as your fingers slipped into his hair, stroking through it gently. He stayed quiet, breath shallow, eyes fixed on the tiny face resting against your chest. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly, like he couldn’t believe any of this was real, let alone that he had a hand in it.

“Joel,” you whispered, and his eyes finally met yours. 

“I love you too.”

His hands rose almost immediately, pressing against his forehead like he was trying to hold everything in, to steady something inside that was unraveling faster than he could control.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so damn sorry.”

You didn’t need to ask what for. You already knew.

He was sorry for the night before. For showing up drunk and aching and helpless. For not being able to hide his feelings anymore and for letting Tommy see all of it. For all the ways he had failed to keep his distance when he should have. For not being able to carry it in silence anymore.

You reached up again and threaded your fingers through his hair, slower this time, more deliberate. Your nails grazed lightly against his scalp, and you felt the tension bleed out of his shoulders as he leaned into it.

His eyes stayed shut, but he didn’t pull away.

“I know,” you murmured. “It’s okay. We’re going to figure it out. And…I’m sorry too. For pushing you away like I did. It wasn’t right.”

Joel didn’t say anything. But he heard you. You could see it in the way his eyes closed briefly, in the way his shoulders softened again. He didn’t brace this time. Didn’t tense like he expected to be pushed away. He just breathed, each inhale and exhale long and deep as he let himself stay right there with you.

But then his hands moved. Slowly, he reached up, his calloused hands rough and worn but so warm and careful as he took your hand from his hair. He pulled it down, cradling it in both of his hands like it was the most precious thing. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles for a moment, and then he brought your palm to his lips, and kissed into the center of it.

His beard tickled your sensitive skin, and his warm lips pressed gently into your palm, sending a quiet spark across your nerves. Goosebumps rose along your arms, not from surprise but from the sweetness of it. How he was so soft, so unhurried. There was nothing rushed or dramatic about the gesture, but it carried more weight than any words could have in that moment.

Your breath caught in your throat at the tenderness of it, and for a second, you just looked at him with his head bowed, your hand still held gently in his grasp, the baby breathing softly between you.

You let out a long, tired sigh. Not from frustration, but from relief. From the ache easing a little in your chest.

“Alright,” you said finally, voice light but a little hoarse as you tried to lighten your tone. “So what’re we naming this kid?”

Joel’s head lifted, his eyes catching yours. Still glassy. Still overwhelmed. But a ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t look afraid.

taglist: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @alidiggory92 @pinkylouise @izzy698 @doblasftcisco @devotedlypaleluminary @elsplayground @puduvallee @victoriaholland @legoemma @leenieweenie12 @possiblyafangirl @alitaar @mads198-9 @emmaoc10 @auteurdelabre @the-last-twin-of-krypton @lilasskicker2 @levislegislation @flowercrowns-goodvibes@starmurdock@94namkooksworld@staley83, @escapefromrealitylol, @starkleila, @ashleyfilm, @honeyydip, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @brooklynbbxo, @ratoonstown, @caroldxnvxrs, @lovelykat001 @snowlycanroc @powellssaturn,

[heyimkana]

Sung Jinwoo by Tomoko Sudo 🐐

[sakasakiii]

when i first designed erestor 3 years back i wasnt totally aware of his potential half-elf status, and since then ive come across some more fanon interpretations of him being haleth and caranthir's kid which i really liked!!!! so ive decided to rework him a little by combining my original lore for him into this concept 👉👈 i ended up getting carried away on whole different tangent with his backstory which ive summarised down below HAHA

tldr to expand on some key points under the cut:

born in F.A. 371 to haleth and caranthir; his parents' romance is short but passionate, and while many of the haladin are initially unsure about the nature of this union, they dont oppose it. for 4 years they live an unconventional but happy life together

haleth leaves thargelion in F.A. 375 and raises erestor with her people once they resettle. he's too young to remember much about caranthir. throughout his childhood she never tells him who his father is, but he also never really feels the need to ask.

he's captured in F.A. 460 (40 years after his mother's death) and escapes in F.A. 510. two years later, he finally finds refuge in Amon Ereb-- six years after the deaths of caranthir, celegorm and curufin in the 2nd kinslaying.

is tasked by maedhros to assist maglor with elrond and elros' education after they're taken in following the 3rd kinslaying in F.A. 538. he becomes a weird mix of a nanny/older brother/teacher figure to them, and a strange but sweet bond forms between them.

entrusted to protect elrond and elros following the break out of the war of wrath. he leads them to the Host of the Valar, where the twins are given the choice of the half-elven; to his surprise, he's afforded this choice as well, and decides to remain elven out of compassion for elrond after elros chooses mortality.

remains by elrond's side to watch over him for most of the 2nd age. during this time he resides in lindon as a healer, translator and archivist; later joins elrond in imladris, and partakes in the war of the last alliance as a combat medic.

in the 3rd age, is beset with sea-longing after what he regards to be a long and tiresome existence; he's also filled with guilt for being unable to help elrond heal celebrian’s psychological wounds, and contemplates following her back to Valinor. ultimately decides to stay back a bit longer, however, and lingers until after sauron’s defeat when the rest of the elves finally depart for the West. 

that's just a very condensed version but one day i hope to explore in some 4th age stuff where he finds out who his dad is...?! or will he?!?! who knows lol

[digitalcarcrash]

top 10 gayest marble hornets moments was the bit where tim was bent over behind his couch and jay zoomed in on his thighs so he could see the imprint of a tape in tim's pocket

(edit: everyone in the reblogs saying they didn't even notice the tape Really just adds to my point that this was UNNECESSARILY gay)

[ricky-mortis]

Something about Apples and Bananas…

Silhouette version :)

[stardella]

The BEST rock jam sesh you’ve ever heard

[eloscore]

whatever, go my art from last year that i forgot to post

[prongss78]

[slavhew]

charmed, i'm sure

[yippee-optimistically]

NO YOU DONT the fog is coming 😂 😂 varied lotf doodles I LIKE THEM A LOTTTTT good good book. yesss

design/inspo for the design of roger from mikeru .. the simon says animatic got stuck in my head real bad

som kind of first pass designs .. yess

so insanely self infulgent au bc i want them to be friends but pls believe me when i say I UNDERSTAND THE BOOK i just like to play with them like dolls

this 1 i really have no explanation for i just think hes silly. simon you bugly af

simon sewing project coming soon i just need 2 figure out how to sculp some bugs ON GOD !!!!!!

[maggotmessiah0]

THIS SONG IS SOO RAD I ALMOST DROPPED DEAD LISTENING TO IT