#i think thats a nice plan

[button-cat]

me when um evil and/or powerful fictional women :

mach and folly they could never make me hate you,,,

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[arcade-confetti]

Being someone who read Under The Red Hood and came out with the firm belief that, for Jason, it's not about killing Joker, it's about Jason wanting proof Batman would choose him over the Joker (bc shelia chose the joker). Makes seeing any other media where it's all about just wanting the Joker dead is a teeny bit frustrating. to be honest

Jason could've killed the Joker himself, really, really easily. Jason kidnaps the Joker before the confrontation. I can't open my comic for a reference right now, but it felt like he had the Joker for quite a bit before the confrontation. He had him. He beat him up with a crowbar. He had every single opportunity to kill the Joker himself, but he didn't because that wasn't his goal. Make no mistake, he did plan for the Joker to be dead by the end of it, but do you see what im trying to say here

Edit: If I knew this post was gonna get 1000+ notes I would've tried to word it better or something, this was a rant I made on the way to the grocery store 😭

It's not about making Batman kill either. When Batman says he won't kill, Jason adjusts and goes, 'Let ME kill the Joker or kill me to stop me' instead. The test is all about Batman choosing him. The whole final confrontation is Jason's first death again. The parent, The Joker, and the explosives. It even ends with Jason unable to move as a bomb goes off right next to him again because the parent didn't choose Jason. And instead tried finding an option that'd benefit them and (consequencely) letting the Joker walk, again, lol, lmao <-in agony

[maudiemoods]

Megaplex was AWESOME and I WILL be going again next year (hopefully) and possibly with a silly suit!! Depends on if I can make it!!

I really like my alien kitty BUT I love chaos so i mashes him and I together into a furry so YAY this is what I plan on making!!!

[clumsypuppy]

vincent voice claim!! hes auggie and anton's son ^_^

VA: Catbug from Bravest Warriors, voiced by Sam Lavagnino

[bunnyboy-juice]

i recently stopped focusing on defining relationships as Romantic & start viewing romance as an Expression of Intimacy (bc there are plenty of romantic things i do within my "Platonic" relationships, there are plenty of romantic things i do - that are explicitly romantic - in relationships Not defined by the romance but by other facets) and my life has Significantly improved as has the love i express & experience among my lovers

[skeletalheartattack]

for the past couple of days, i've been working on Boe's house in limbo and getting it to look close to how i've been picturing it in my head - here's a couple of shots so far showing off the exterior and interior, with the top screenshot being further along in progress than the other exterior shots.

[tategaminu]

I have two best friends in real life and the three of used to be very close. However as home and studies moved we grew apart. It doesn't seem the two talk to each other much and I barely talk to them. We live 15 minutes apart yet I will be lucky if we see each other once a month. They don't really tell me about their stuff anymore (the grandpa of one of them died months ago and I found out the other day)‚ we don't hang out on birthdays or special ocasions‚ I feel like I'm bothering them if I talk first.

They want me in my life if after years we are still friends but it doesn't feel like I have someone close to share my interests with anymore. They both have their boyfriends and I'm happy they got a close partner but it's sad to see you aren't as important to someone as you used to be. I don't think calling them my best friends feels right anymore. Closest friends maybe.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

tablet died right when i finished that wanda doodle but i still wanna doodle what if i ended it all

[babymorte]

spending the entire day putting in apartment applications and tour requests and lemme tell you this shit is STRESSFUL

[edensgaia]

Tbh my feelings on the sunkissed breakup would be very different if the first instance of a betrayal/doing things behind each others back/not taking each other seriously started with the whole giving Bacon hearts thingy, but it didn't, the trust hasn't been totally there for a longer time than that

[smrtnik07]

Could I maybe request a Dias and/or Moses?

something is wrong with both of them

[telesodalite]

Thinking about KrokFire...

Thinking about them sparring in the cargohold, because it's a long trip, and cabin fever is setting in, and Misfire is gonna pop a gasket if he doesn't do something about it soon, since flying in open space gets real boring real fast, and it's making everyone a little nervous, but Krok has time to kill, and maybe, quietly, he's also two steps away from doing something stupid just to feel alive again after cruising around pointlessly, mindlessly, endlessly, for so so long... (It's barely been a month)

And sure, Misfire is a terrible sparring partner. He has no technique, no concept of proper balance, or an inkling of how to use the weight of his own frame. He rushes headfirst like he's more bull than fighter jet, he talks too much, he spits, he bites, and he can't stand losing. But, in a roundabout way, it almost makes him the perfect partner in Krok's eyes.

Crankcase won't spar, "can't" he claims flatly, gesturing at the gaping hole in his helm, but Krok can respect his want for distance. That occasional flash of fear and frozen unease in Crankcase's visor in close combat doesn't go over his head. He knows that look. He gets it. He won't push.

Fulcrum... well, a streetlight might be a tougher fight, or at least it would stay up longer and complain less. So much for a once respectable officer of the empire. What was Deathsaurus' command thinking promoting anyone without any actual combat training? It would almost be pathetic if Fulcrum didn't find a way to put the vitriol of thrown fists into his words instead. Now there was some swears Krok hadn't heard in a couple millennia, it would be inspiring if it wasn't his own spark Fulcrum had been damning to the pits and back through a bloody nose.

Spinister? Now Spinister was a good fighter, a better fighter, Krok wasn't so prideful to deny that truth. He'd tasted the dust of the cargohold floor enough to know it was a definitive fact. But Spinister held back, he was careful, he matched Krok's pace, his movements, he held himself defensively, any attack was quick, simple, and merely restraining. It was less a fight, and more a waiting game until Krok finally gave up, and that... well, that did sting a bit.

But Misfire? Misfire was a different beast all together. Sure Krok could dance circles around the flier all day, but it wasn't totally effortless work, he had to stay sharp, Misfire was so predictably unpredictable, he kept him thinking, moving, on his toes, and maybe it felt good to sidestep another stupid headfirst charge, easily grabbing and swinging Misfire around by his arm, so unbalanced all Krok had to do was let him go, and the weight of his own frame would send him careening into the crates stacked around them.

Most days, Misfire would give up by then, pull himself off the pile of overturned cargo with no small amount of burning shame and frustration, as he avoided Krok's optics and stormed off into the bowels of the ship before Krok could say something to ease the sting of losing again and again. Misfire didn't want his apologies though, and even as a pang of guilt ate at him over it, Krok knew he'd be back eventually.

But today, too pent-up and bored to quit now, Misfire pushed himself back onto his feet and charged back in again, and again, and again.

And Krok moved with him again, and again, and again. It was almost repetitive, but lively enough that he could feel the energon pumping through his head, a thrumming beat in his audials that reminds him of deafening battlefields and roaring stadiums, and oh, he'd missed this feeling, the adrenaline, the movement, more so than he thought he did.

Maybe it's the overconfidence that gets him then, or the memories pulling him out of the present, but Misfire's fist suddenly comes slamming down into his mask, and for a moment everything becomes a blur, until he finds himself on the floor, clutching at the shattered metal falling from his face in disbelief.

Faintly he can feel the twinge of broken mesh, of pain pinching dully across scarred flickering sensors, and maybe it's the adrenaline that pulls a suprised and breathy laugh out of him as he stares down at the pieces in his hand.

Maybe it's also the disbelief, the sudden shock at being struck hard enough to break his mask, by Misfire of all mechs. Or maybe he's cracked his helm, finally snapping something important deep in his processor, some vital function that kept him sane all these years.

Either way, an old familiar buzz of heady energy fills his chest, loosening his joints and straightening his struts as he stands back up, brushing off the broken remains of his mask as he stares back at Misfire, barefaced and bleeding and amused as the flier's optics go bright and wide.

And all Misfire can do for a moment is stand there, wide-eyed and breathless, his own adrenaline filled frame and hammering processor still trying to make sense of the broken plating of his knuckles and the energon trickling down Krok's scarred lips.

But connections are made, and it's a panicked realization at first, a cold dread, a 'ohhhhh fuck oh primus I fucked up I'm dead I'm so fucking dead-!' sort of feeling, as Krok's marred face breaks into an energon stained grin. But then there's another feeling, growing somewhere underneath the panic, a sudden curl of heat in his chest, a flush of pride, conviction, a sort of frenzied joy at the sight of broken mesh and fresh energon, and another rush of hot anticipation as Krok began to move again, circling, waiting, an unspoken question in the air as he rolls his shoulders back and flexes his hands.

And Misfire answers eagerly, suprising himself almost as he charges foward again, wanting more of that feeling, wanting to win again.

It's not really sparring past this point, and somewhere in the back of their minds they both know that. Every strike, every kick, every punch, it's all thoughtless instinct, each clash of plating, and bite of denta, and scrape of fingertips, is part of a mad dash for victory in the gladiator pit of scrap and debris they've built around themselves.

Of course, it can't last forever. They're no real gladiators, no phase-sixers, no primes, and movements get sluggish, vents rattle and wheeze as coolant pumps reach their limits, and building condensation slides powerless punches right off of scuffed metal and mesh.

Even like this though, worn out and bleeding from more scrapes than he had half a mind to count, Krok is still better, and Misfire is still predictable, and it's no great feat to sweep his legs out from beneath him, landing him flat on the floor, wings spread out and chestplate heaving.

Overworked joints sharply protest as he goes to pin the flier down bodily, and finally Krok faces the fact he has to consider how to end this, so he might let his own beaten frame finally still for a moment to breathe.

But as Krok catches one flailing arm in his grip, scoffing at the desperation, still goading Misfire on even as he tries to end this, a hand stubbornly catches his throat, but stops before it can truly squeeze.

And once more they're not really moving, just staring, watching, but it's less wired and tense now, rather, its shaky, a little unfocused, as exhaustion filters out in heaving puffs of hot air between their frames.

Someone's plating is rattling, Krok isn't sure if it's his own or Misfire's, but the cost of adrenaline is painfully noticeable now. His grip loosens on Misfire's arms, and the idea of total victory is less sweet as his cables begin to ache throughout his inner-framework.

But Misfire's hand slides up to catch his jaw before he can lean back and relent to a truce, and he's pulling him closer, and Krok starts to push him off, call it quits before either of them breaks something past repair, but a flash of energon on Misfire lips catches his eye, and that hadn't been there a moment ago?

Before he can even begin to ask what that was supposed to mean, Misfire is pulling him down again, angling his helm upwards to feverishly meet his lips half-way.

Although the mesh of Misfire's face was throughly bruised and scuffed, Krok had frustratingly failed to return the favor of a busted lip. So, it had to be his own, smeared across Misfire's face at some point in the scuffle, it shouldn't have been interesting in the slightest, but Krok's processor was hazy, slow, and his optics trailed Misfire's glossa as he licked his lips and made an odd curious sound.

And maybe it was a stupid move to make so impulsively, one he'd regret making probably, but still too caught up in the waning heated high of the fight, Misfire figured he could worry about losing such a hard-earned battle later. Right now, this seemed far better than actually winning, and the taste of Krok's energon felt like a victory and reward nonetheless.

Bracing himself as Misfire wriggled his other hand free to splay out over his thigh, holding him desperately against his frame as he tried pulling him even closer, Krok considered the heat dispersion warnings flickering distractingly in his peripheral, and the very noticeable strain on his back and legs, even his arms.

It's not a great position to be in right now, after all they've done already. He'll regret it, he knows he will, his body will make sure of it, if Spinister doesn't first.

But then Misfire's glossa is sliding against the jagged edges of his teeth, and he's making hoarse little pathetic noises into Krok's mouth that stoke some sort of ego at having the flier so desperate beneath him, and Misfire's hands are warm and heavy over aching plating and seams, and really, on second thought, after weeks of boredom, why the hell not?

They've got nowhere to be.

[cestacruz]

The bonus art on your post about Young!Stanley meeting Bill where he’s standing on top of what I assume is the portal is making me go insane cuz before Mabel intervened in that one episode Stan had a fear of heights and assuming he had it when he was a kid there’s no way Bill doesn’t know about it since he’s in Young!Stanley’s mind and all I can think about is Bill unpossessing Stanley while up there and him panicking and/or freezing up when he comes to his senses and realizes how high up he is and Ford just fucking loosing his mind like “Oh god he’s gonna fall oh god oh god-“

eehehe ehehehehehee stanley better keep his footing when Bill leaves, or else

for angst purposes im making the portal bigger now (? *plays that song that plays in that scene of Avatar when the protag falls from the plane gonna ramble in the tags now thank u

[suntails]

the book is done :D setting up a shop for it next week but i’ll start posting/open preorders in september!!

[supercimi]

@the-ellia-west , this is the second part of that prompt thingy :>

Strolling friends

Atwix golden sand and endless blue, it was a place that seemed untrue.

A little gathering slowly turned Into an adventure, at one point one of us had said,

“Is it okay to go?”

still as one, the rest of us looked in thought,

“ I don't see why not?” The bravest of us had said,

“ no one really cares if we're there or not at this time anyways,” the smartest of us had said,

“Besides! You want this trip more than any of us don't you?” The firmest of us had said.

Truth be told, i did.

“But…what if it gets late?” i posed Worriedly, glancing Back and forth, is It really a wise thought?

“Then we just have to run back!” brazenly stepping ahead he clasped my hands and we went ahead.

“Wait, walk slower you brutes! Least they would hear our steps!” carefully he warned us and clasped my other hand

Slowly our steps would rhythm, once we reached our usual hangout, firm hands clasped at the walls.

“Here! This is the place!” Firm in His joy he led us on an untrodden path.

bathed in sunlight, four shadows sneaked their way.

Three holding hands and walking carefully, and one running straight ahead in joy

It really felt like an adventure, a rather memorable one, truthfully.

“This! This is the place!” Jumbing Left and right he waved to us almost too long.

As if barely holding back from rushing there he firmly stood until we all gathered around.

“ What is this place?” The oldest of us had said expectant eyes bravely studying the foliage.

“ it looks like …a rather old boulder…” curious hands left my grasp to inspect the ancient looking rocks, his eyes carefully glued to their prize, and none of us could redraw his gaze.

“I found it last night! When we all went back home!” posing Confidently in his place, as if he didn’t just admit to staying too late.

“ Didn't we agree to not stay out too late? Least the adults would have much to say?” Blaming eyes unable to smile, i asked him in ire.

“W- well, it turned out alright!” Sheepishly looking everywhere, he stammered as he stood there

What if it didn’t? What would've happened then?

It was too fearsome a retribution, I couldn't help the melancholic thoughts.

“ Hey, i promise it's alright, okay?” Apologetic hands clasped my own as the firmest of eyes looked at mine.

…

If you really say so…i will believe you…for now

“ you better be telling the truth,” strong hands dangled on his shoulders, a little more angry than myself, its owner looking sternly at the once firm looking eyes

“The truth i say!” Apologetic once more The hands clasping mine ramparted as If it could fend off the blameful eyes

“ for all your recklessness, you actually found a rather memorable place,” eyes that once studied undisturbed, now gazed here rather perturbed

Four friends had gathered, three were silently blaming, and one was firmly apologizing.

his joy is our joy, we love what he loves, but if he isn't careful, we have much to say.

Especially for the four of us, in this era of ours, in this scary town of ours.

“ i promise it will be the last time!” pleaded with all his might, eyes pleading to ours with playful tears and an almost hidden smile.

He's an idiot, but he keeps his promises, i said

“He's an idiot but he's our idiot,” a tired sigh sounded next to said idiot

“He's an idiot but he's rather lucky,” jealous eyes looked around as it sighed out loud.

Quietly agreeing to let him off, the four of us gathered closer to the mountain

Or so it looked as such, it looked closer to a boulder, hidden by all the neighborIng forest, it looked closer to a cave Than a boulder or a mountain,

A rather odd place to tell the truth, a ways off from our hangout, Which is already on the outskirts of the town, it seemed like an old fortress of sorts, surrounded by mountains and forests, it seemed ancient More than it seemed empty.

Although both would be true.

A certain idiot was reckless Enough to find this Place nestled deep within the ancient forest.

A mountainous boulder that seemed to hide Within the walls of the ancient fortress.

as If our earlier squabbling Was but a dream, the four of us couldn't help our wondering.

Wasn't this place simply Unreal? What would we find if we roamed here?

A part of me really understood how our idiot felt despite his recklessness.

“ Hey! Look there!” said idiot pointed in joy

“What?” Calm eyes followed his gaze

“That part of the boulder! Doesn't it look like a gate?!” he Called as be sped there with all his might.

Following his steps, four As one, once again gathered in one spot.

Amidst the decaying walls and encroaching Foliage, a stream of light peeked at us from within.

What is that? It really looked like a gate…but….not exactly..?

The closer we look the more we touch, the more we touch the more it gives way.

As if finally reaching its end, the gate looking boulder crumpled at once, well just this tiny part of it. Thankfully, not all of the mountainous boulder had fallen just yet.

What greeted us was nothing out of a dream.

Golden sand and whimsical blue, surrounded by the same ancient forest we just trod through yet seemingly hidden from the world.

This place, hidden by the mountains and trees, seemed untouched by time.

As if time itself would stop, many things adorned the golden sand, structures that made no sense, left as they are for however long of years,

inscriptions and scribbles adorned the walled boulders, even the one we just crumpled. It all seemed to be one and the same

It's a really odd place for sure.

Ancint structures And trees, trees and sand, sand and water

All of it in one place, hidden from time.