#I don’t know where this idea came from

[memorydarkness]

Random ROTTMNT thoughts:

What if loosing Piebald (or flushing her by mistake), was the main reason why Donnie put a tracker on all of them, So no one will be lost ever again.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 169

Danny is from a world where everyone has wings, even if most have long since lost the ability to fly. Something about loading and aspect ratio, wings being too small, body too heavy, now mostly used as display, whatever. 

It doesn’t matter even if he had blueprints from when he was like six of a jetpack to help fly. It won’t work anyway and hey, he has his ghost form! Which uh, might be perhaps, affecting his wings which were maybe sort of scorched black and practically down to the bone thanks to the accident. 

It doesn’t matter, he swears. Though he’s admittedly relieved to see the new feathers growing in are different from Dan’s angry sunset. Even if they’re not even supposed to be able to grow back. Alright, this is fine, no one is going to notice! It’s not like everyone knows about the poor Fenton kid whose wings were absolutely destroyed thanks to an accident! It’s fine. 

He’s not flying in a half-panic towards the Far Frozen while crying because his wings are coming back and he’s so scared. He didn’t panic and instantly fled the moment Jazz pointed them out while changing the bandages. 

He definitely didn’t trip over something while wiping away said tears and blacking out from all the stress and all of his problems that he definitely mentioned to someone and isn’t keeping a secret. Definitely. 

Hawkwoman and Hawkman would like everyone to know that neither of them were expecting a very small child to be spat out of the villain of that week’s machine that should definitely not be a portal. A very small child, maybe nine or ten, with a multitude of concerning wounds both old and fresh. Which isn’t even beginning to touch on the wings. 

Feathered, like baby down despite the gnarled scars, unlike their own metallic, with the beginning of tiny specklings like stars amidst the darker fuzz peeking from the wounded flesh. 

Who?! Who dared?! It’s (at least to the forever reincarnating duo) a literal baby! They still have down! Tiny baby fuzz! Was it the portal?! Oh this villain is going to taste their maces for causing this if that’s the case! 

The rest of the Justice League would honestly like to know what just happened and are honestly unsure on if they should stop the two…

[sweetchildofrocknroll]

[hijinxinprogress]

Civilian Gothamites realizing they can get vengeance through Sword!Robin

Gothamites figuring out if they happen to mention a rogue treating animals poorly within hearing range of sword!Robin that rogue will be in custody with at least four fractures and a concussion and Damian being completely aware that like 63% of these people are lying but it’s the only way he can get experience with the nonlethal takedowns he’s experimenting with bc everyone keeps complaining about how he treats his opponents and allies 

Like he’s guiding a civilian to safety and they mention that “this would be the worst thing to happen to me today if riddler didn’t stab my fucking cat” and this civilian does not own a cat but they did own a car that was just paid off but riddler fucking crushed it with a stupid ass hot air balloon that’s shaped like a fucking question mark and Damian is aware of this bc he was the one that verified the insurance claim (but he’s been looking for a reason to punch Nygma in the throat since his last Arkham escape when he called Damian a moron)

And he also knows that if he plays along with it and says ‘as if I’d let that gaudy and tactless imbecile get away with committing such atrocities’ when prompted that he’ll get away with barely a slap on the wrist like he gets three half hearted but long lectures he’s not going to listen to and an online sensitivity training seminar he goads Tim into completing (Damian and Tim 100% try to trick each other into doing work they don’t want to do and full heartedly believe the other has no idea what they’re doing)

Bruce’s tendency for finding small crashouts at risk of becoming future rogues in Gotham and deciding they need love & supervision but what actually happens bc he’s so fucking awkward is they get almost the same amount of supervision just with like an hour of intense helicopter parenting a week but honestly besides that they just have more money and resources to do fuck shit

Tim 🤝🏾 Damian: using the manipulation tactics they learned from their mothers then later improved on with help from an assassin cult and bat/cape interrogation questioning techniques on the homies

[heavenlyhischier]

Jack Hughes: Here’s your birthday card.

Nico Hischier, opening it: Sweet, thanks Jack.

Nico Hischier: …

Nico Hischier: Did you handwrite “askhgkgdssj ily”

Jack Hughes: And I meant every word.

[our-transmasculine-experience]

Ive kind of been questioning who I am lately. From the moment I came out, I was a binary trans man, but lately I’ve been pretty dysphoric cause I can’t cut my hair like I used to. My mom isn’t allowing it. So I haven’t been able to fit in with a lot of guys, both physically and mentally. My brain is fundamentally different than every cis man I’ve met, since men tend to focus on competition/skill in friendships over emotional connection, which is what I value over everything else. Not to mention the more stereotypical differences, like the fact that I enjoy all of the arts over mathematics. Most of the time I just can’t even get myself to give a shit about what other people think my gender is because if I did, it would probably send me over the edge. So since I don’t fit in with any men I know, I’m considering that maybe I’m just not one. Not a binary one, at least. But I don’t know what that means for me yet.

Tldr: Mental dysphoria hit me so hard that now I’m considering I’m not as binary as I thought

there are artsy guys out there, i promise. cis and trans. however, if you decide to pick a different label, i along with many other people will continue to support you.

don’t compare yourself to cis men too much though, because trans men often have experiences that cis men may never have, and vice versa.

[mihrsuri]

Every other time it had all faded away in slow horror, knowing that he would awaken with no memory of what had been. But this time, this time is different. This time Celebrimbor’s trace of Elbereths star, of Earendils remains upon his skin but Sauron sees it not.

And his memory remains.

He cannot show his horror so instead he gives what Sauron wishes - devotion. Sweetness, with just enough bewilderment to know that something torments him. He could never have done this once, but Sauron has taught him painful lessons.

But now, now he has hope. The stars of hope, against the shadow. It is how he makes himself smile, to yield to kisses and embraces.

(He knows what else Sauron wants now, the memory burning him - Elrond, the pretty chained nightingale star - a silver cage and a gold for Galadriel. Sauron’s unwilling consorts, Celebrimbor a trophy of sorts - a victory, a pet crafter to hold against Middle Earth. Elrond is a fear, the image of a defeat and Celebrimbor knows that too).

-

Pharazon does not like them together, except when he is there but even then they must see to him, to his pleasure. They have let him think them defeated and it seems to please the man - to have what he wishes. And yet, yet they are not.

There is light and high beauty forever beyond the reach of the grasping choking shadows and Miriel has always felt it - perhaps never more than when she is with Elendil. Pharazon is small beneath it and while Elendil names her Luthien she thinks of Beren. They will endure.

[cloudydreamingart]

Commander Zoffy’s arrival

My bsf and I are POSSIBLY makin in ultraman rising AU cause we’re nerds! But here’s some Zoffy art!

[caustinen]

i saw this video and the brainrot overcame me and i wrote 2.4k words of secret agent!bucky and bond girl!gale except that actually he’s the son of a mob boss that works as a double agent

tags: smut / feelings / angst / injuries / tending of injuries

enjoy?

hold me like a knife (ao3)

It takes only three simple words, and the pain in Bucky’s wounds seem to vanish at once as he fighst a grin — his first smile for days.

”You look horrible.”

Gale speaks in his matter-of-fact and yet oddly tender tone as always, as if he was just observing facts that had no real implications for him; it’s the very same tone that caught Bucky’s interest in the first place before he ever even saw his face.

He loses the fight with the grin, though it’s quickly overcome with a grimace as he leans to the doorframe and accidentally touches on a fresh bruise. ”I missed you too, doll,” he manages to sound nonchalant, at least to his own ears, but the slight tightening of Gale’s expressions reveals he has been caught. A gentle but determined hand reaches for the collar of his jacket and pulls him into the hotel room, Bucky making sure to kick the door closed behind himself. The lock clicks just as soft fingers run down the less bruised side of his face before he’s guided down so the shorter man can press a careful kiss to his lips. His own hands land on his shoulders, running up and down his biceps and squeezing lightly. He’s like a child who has gotten his favorite plushie back after a vaction, he supposes, as he seeks the comfort of touch with the despair of a starving man.

The kiss starts light, careful, Gale clearly trying to determin how much Bucky is hurting — the lower lip is slightly swollen from where it split to a knife — but as Bucky presses himself closer and tries his luck with a tentative lick between his lips, Gale sighs before opening up to him. Bucky only realizes how tense he has been when his shoulders drop and he relaxes into Bucky’s embrace. The hitched breathes and sighs and wet sounds of their lips meeting fill the silence between them, and Bucky can feel life bleed back into him with each little silent ngh that Gale probably doesn’t even realize he’s making.

The slowness molded by the simple pleasure of the other’s body heat close starts to vanish into real passion, the touch of their mouths getting more demanding, but unfortunately a nib of Gale’s teeth on his tender lip makes him hiss in pain, immediately pulling Gale farther away. Bucky doesn’t let him go far, hands now secured around the small of his back, and Gale doesn’t fight him either. He’s blushed by their effort and his lips are slightly swollen now too as his eyes travel over Bucky’s face once more, no doubt noting each of his visble wounds and calculating how many he’s hiding underneath his suit. His eyes stop on the three hazardly done stitches on his left eyebrow, and Bucky knows he doesn’t need to tell him he’s put them there himself, just now on the plane.

He might tell him later, when they’re cooling down under a single blanket and Gale’s playing with his hair or fingers and he doesn’t have to look him in the face as he talks because he knows Gale will be latching on to each word, not missing a single unvoiced moment of pain and fear from his story that he’s not ready to admit even to himself.

Gale hums. He looks like he’s deep in thought, but Bucky can tell he’s still more alert than most people are when they really put their mind to it, just by the virtue of his upbringing. The thought physcally aches somewhere deep in his insides and Bucky realizes more than ever what a bad idea it was to come here like this, he’s clearly too in his feelings to be acting rationally, too raw from the gruelling assignment and worrying about Gale. His arms around the smaller man tighten without his permission but Gale doesn’t comment on it, still carefully mapping out his face with his gaze and fingertips.

”You should be at a hospital,” he finally says, whispers, really, the worry and relief he’s still at one piece battling each other over every syllable. Bucky swallows the lump from his throat and forces a grin. They don’t have long, they never do, and he’ll be damned if he made it all the way back just to crumble at his feet.

(Gale would let him, and pick him back up and put together no matter how many pieces he’d be in, and that’s why he won’t.)

”Nah,” Bucky says, satisfied with how truly carefree he does sound that time, ”I had to come see my baby first.” The endearement works wonders like always. Gale let’s out a silent breath and his eyes soften despite shaking his head slightly before reaching for another kiss. It’s softer, again, taking them back to the start, and that’s fine with Bucky, he’s too tired and tender for all these emotions right now. ”Well, you’re not gonna bleed all over my sheets,” Gale tells him as he pulls back again, ”c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bucky lets his mind fade into a pleasant hum in the background as Gale unburdens him from his suit layers, biting his lip unhappily as he uncovers the bruising and cuts all over his torso but not saying anything. Bucky’s merely an observer as he’s pushed into the shower, the water pleasant rythm on his tired body. He leans to the cold wall and closes his eyes, unsure how long he just stays there taking it in before the door opens and closes with silent clicks and a smaller body presses against him. He keeps his eyes closed when Gale washes his hair, humming in content, following the gentle guidance of sure hands he trusts with the essances of his soul. He opens his eyes when Gale’s hands make a long stop on his cheeks again after rinsing the shampoo of. He finds his doll eyes looking at him, thoughtful and scared and thankful and suddenly Bucky feels chocked up again so he takes his face between his hands and presses his lips to the blonde’s forehead and tastes the clean water there.

After quickly washing his own hair under Bucky’s interested eyes Gale drags them out. For himself he pulls on a bathrobe before taking using one of the towels for Bucky’s curls and then the other for delicately tracing down his torso between all the marks of violence. Bucky stays silent even when he starts to disinfect the cuts, giving away his exhauston completely, but the silence is soft like a protective cushion between them and the world.

Once he’s happy Gale takes him by the hand and pulls him after himself. Bucky’s back hits the mattress and he suddenly feels all the tiredness at once at the soft embrace of the clean sheets, and then immediately after wide awake again as Gale’s thighs settle on both sides of his lap, hands automatically coming to rest lazily on his hips as Gale leans over him on all fours to press airy pecks all over his abused face — his temples, cheekbones, eyelides, side of his nose, the sharpest edge of his jawline — as if trying to force a protective spell, or a blessing, upon his skin.

”Sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs dreamily as the other keeps going down from his face, pressing his face into his neck and collarbones and inhaling him like an addict looking for his fix. Gale hums in answer absentmindedly and kisses his way further down. He kisses each of the bruises softly, nibbing at the parts of his skin that are not injured, letting the skin go up and down with his teeth, never biting hard enough to actually hurt but leaving his little signatures everywhere on his abs, navel, hip-joints.

Bucky’s hands have found reign in his hair at some point, long fingers twisted in wet strands and pulling just a little when Gale breathes against the base of cock, pressing his lips there and giving the sensitive skin between his dick and balls like it was something sacred. Bucky hisses in want as Gale guides both of his knees over Gale’s shoulders when he gives more admiring kisses to his manhood, asking to be pressed down to the bed with Bucky, to be let to be lost in their pleasure for just a moment.

Gale goes down on him like he wants to regain him, almost like he wants to hurt him too to replace memories of everyone else hurting him. Bucky groans as his throat clicks when he gags on him, and then moans immediately after, doing it again and again. It’s lewd and dirty and perfect. John can do nothing else but take it and whisper soft praise, ”So good for me darling”, ”Just like that”.

Gale pulls back to breathe properly, and Bucky drags him sitting up by his hair, making Gale whine with a wide smile on his face. ”Show-off,” Bucky accuses him quietly, with a fond little smile, their dicks rubbing together as Gale sits on his lap again. The blondie laughs into the kiss as Bucky turns them around, backing Gale up until the top of his hair is touching the metal frame of the bed.

They stare at each other there for a moment, Bucky taking his time now to look at him, pressing the image to his mind for moments when the warmth of the younger is just a distant memory. Gale bites his lip again, but this time with a happy grin, as Bucky bullies his thighs apart with his own and then presses down on him until his calves are trapped between them. ”Are you sure?” Bucky scoffs, shaking his head. ”Sweetheart. The day when I respond to that ’you know what, I’m good actually’ I want you to end my life with a tool of your choice.” Gale makes a disapproving clicking sound with his tongue but reaches to play with Bucky’s curls again with his left hand, softness in his eyes that makes him look younger. Pain swirls through John at the sight. ”I’m really okay just having you close-” Bucky shuts him up by licking at his lips. ”Shh. Let me, baby.” Gale falls silent, looking up at him with stars in his eyes, and it scares Bucky he knows how much he trusts him. ”Please, let me,” he whispers against his lips again. Gale nods.

John takes one hand to each of his own and presses them gently to the headboard. A soflty whispered ”stay” and then ”good boy” as Gale wraps his slender fingers around the metal there makes the blonde’s breath hitch. John keeps his hands there for a bit before running them down his arms, lips locked in a passionate kiss, the little noises Gale makes into it driving him wild. His own cock is aching and Gale’s drying saliva is cooling and making him extra sensitive, but he still takes his time prepping Gale carefully, taking care of him like he took care of him earlier in the bathroom.

He pulls his three fingers out when Gale’s sounds get loud and keening despite his best efforts of muffling them — there’s no need to be quiet here, but old habits die hard. He lubes himself up and sits up straighter on his knees between Gale’s legs. Gale is breathing hard, chest heaving between them, his hands still around the metal. John leans down to kiss him to not tell him how much he loves him and then pushes into him as Gale’s moans fill his lungs.

He can’t keep kissing him for long, the sudden need to take him hard overwhelming and immediate. There’s spit connecting their heart-shaped lips as Bucky presses his hands on the mattress on both sides of Gale’s head and puts his back into it, his pain, his frustration, and Gale throws his head to the side and smiles, and Bucky’s heart aches again so he fucks him harder, drinking in the happy sighs with his eyes and ears alike.

He notices that Gale’s arms are shaking with the effort of keeping them against the frame so he slows down for a moment, reaching for his hands again and carefully pulling them towards the core of them, waiting for Gale to have them wrapped around his neck before he drives into him slower but deeper. Gale’s gasping for breath with each thrust, his eyes closed and face focused on pleasure, and Bucky would like nothing more than to drag this out until the morning but he knows he needs to rest, and he’d rather fall asleep with Gale wrapped around him than see him leave at dawn to return for the shadows assigned to him.

Gale opens his eyes and they stare at each other, Bucky momentarily posessed by the hazy blue that looks up at him in melancholy, in need, in hope, in love. Bucky is immediately resigned, he wants to tear up his chest and stop feeling or stop the time and stay like this forever. He will give Gale anything he needs, anytime he can.

”In me,” Gale pleads him, and Bucky presses his lips to his forcefully now, overcome by the image of Gale pulling on his clothes and going back to his betrothed with Bucky still dripping from him. He whines aloud at the thought and gives it to him harder, better, louder, and Gale murmurs praise and gratitude into his open mouth before throwing his head back and coming between them. Bucky follows him there and then the room is silent again, both of them breathing hard, the sweat cooling between them. Gale has hidden his face to Bucky’s hair, away from the world, his arms hugging tightly around his neck, wanting to morph into this moment and only breathe the cheap hotel shampoo for the rest of his days. Bucky mouths at his neck, yearning to mark the pure skin that’s not his to claim, at least if he cares about keeping his Gale alive.

Bucky turns them carefully to their sides, slipping away from him. Gale feels suddenly cold and pushes himself closer so he can stay away from the room and the world beyond it for a moment more. Bucky makes a soothing cooing sound for he can’t say to him anything to make it better, and hugs him thight when he feels the first sob force it’s way out of his lover. He’ll hold him close for as long as he can, caress the perfect valleys of his back, and pray they both live to have this fleeting moment again.

[blue-rhapsody]

You know, Mu Qing feels like he should be apart of a mean girls trio. The sarcastic comments, the eye rolls, he’s built for it. But instead he gets stuck with the darling of the heavens(who also almost killed an entire kingdom) and a himbo who is terrified of woman but somehow knocked one up.

I’m just saying, justice for mean girl Mu Qing

[agentplutonium]

a very sleepy and confused pluto appears to give y’all one concept: Milo getting on his knees to take off Sweetheart’s shoes

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Less ‘Minato coddled Kakashi’ and more ‘Minato coddled Obito and left Kakashi to scold Obito about his tardiness causing more of a rift between them instead’

[korkietism]

A lovely little photoshoot for the young pros, Jet-Black Hero: Tsukuyomi and Acid Rush!!

(This realistically would take place after Tokoyamis internship with North BUT I think both of them would look older + different than how I drew them… considering they’d be like.. 23-27.. but oh well.)

[magicicephoenix]

some @pillowspace whiteboard things!

[trapped-inside-the-vortex]

Headcannon Time #2

Ianto’s Welsh accent was quite strong growing up. When he moved to London, he wanted a fresh start so he tried to mimic the accent until it became pretty much natural. After Canary Wharf, when Ianto moved back to Wales, he noticed his accent coming back. It slowly got stronger and stronger until the day he died.

[flumpermergen]

Hoyo fandom, I love ya, but I’m on my knees, begging y’all to actually pay attention to the basic lore of the games cause why do so many people keep saying that the Annihilation Gang is all dead???

It’s flat out stated that only Ifrit was killed by Acheron. Akash, Dubra, Caterina and Constance are all still alive.