#Its really not that hard come on

[cacturne]

“Carmine is not the worst” and “kieran is not the worst” are statements that can and should co-exist

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 74

When a new black-haired blue-eyed person appeared in the manor, one could easily be forgiven for thinking that Bruce’s adoption problem had struck again. So color many a batkid surprised that no, this kid isn’t a new sibling, no he didn’t get grabbed from the street, and actually he’s here for Alfred. Apparently Alfred never found it important to mentioned that he has a husband- that the kid kind of implies isn’t human what with the casual way he says he himself is half human- and that this kid is apparently their child. For once it’s Bruce’s turn to come home to a surprise sibling. 

Danny on the other hand just learned that his Clockpa has a semi-mortal partner who has offered to take him in, (in another dimension even! And there’s aliens!!) while the ancient takes care of some stuff at home. And yeah it’s in a rich-manor but Sam has proved that not all rich people are evil, and based off of Mr Pennyworth’s stories the Waynes weren’t bad either. Though based off of the others’ reactions perhaps he should wait to mention that there wasn’t one new family member but three…

[gunsatthaphan]

#attaboy.

[puppyeared]

doodles of my fav sillies

anton belongs to @poicyss

[chalkeater]

Relatable

[creakysocks]

"...So have you like... considered... *not* making another collider that could potentially break reality as we know it???"

"I mean I did but then i thought of what we'd be missing out on!"

"And what would that be??"

"More holes!"

idk im just thinking abt this au again

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Cannot Unsee. Cannot Unknow.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ryssbelle]

Poppy for N2 au, it took me so long to make her design cuz I didn't really know what I wanted to do only because I feel like her design is pretty perfect.

But then I just thought about fun outfits to give her or outfits that I would find comfortable if I was wearing them and it all came together.

Poppy here is pretty much the same as here movie counterpart, as nothing really changes on her end of things other than having more insight on Branch through his brothers, and through Lief. Shes also a bit more understanding a bit earlier on because of it but it doesnt do much to change her own character arc I would say.

Bonus

Part of Poppys design was based off a design I had made for previous rulers of Troll Village/Tree

Namely Queen Protea who I designed as Poppys grandmother

Named after the Protea flower which part of her design is based off :D

In the context of this Au Protea was the one who conceptualized the tunnels while her son, King Peppy, was the one to follow through after her death

[commander-gloryforge]

fellow guild wars 2 enjoyers that arent popular and part of the cool kids and have ocs that everyone knows/loves and create banger fanart and post really good fics and all that

fellow guild wars 2 enjoyers that are just kinda there and kinda average

lets band together. and maybe kiss.

[tianhai03]

hi. did anyone ask for jason voorhees fanart from me in 2023? no? too bad bc im delivering. heres me figuring out how to draw all the different jasons

heres the same thing but with some silly ramblings..... i just like him a lot💖

[hanadoesstuffwrong]

Some doodles because the concept art for this mediocre corporate mess has been haunting me

[secretmellowblog]

i just dont really understand why theyd target les mis? and like. its interrupting the work of actors and crew and house staff who dont have anything to do with fossil fuel corps. people who just paid to see the show who dont have anything to do with it.

i understand les mis is a show about rebellion and humanity but to me it doesnt make any sense.

( i say this as someone whos probably very unaware and very slow to realize the deeper meaning of things so i apologize if it comes off snobby i am just confused !! /genuine )

I'm very sorry if this comes off as rude but like.... "I don't understand why people would use Les Mis as the symbolic centerpiece of an act of protest/rebellion against the government" is just a very strange thing to say, and I'm genuinely not quite sure how to begin to respond XD. Like....it's literally Les Mis. It is Do You Hear the People Sing. The original novel was written to be a political rallying cry, it was written to bind together activists, and it has been used that way thousands of times since its publication in 1862. It's Les Mis, I don't know what else to tell you XD. Also I know this next comparison isn't perfect, but:

“I don’t understand why Les Amis interrupted Lamarque’s funeral.  Obviously I agree with Les Amis’s goals, but was this really the right way to protest? Obviously the government is doing something bad— but was this symbolic event really the right place to talk about it? Why even choose to interrupt this event, and the lives of the workers leading it and everyday people attending it? It wasn’t responsible for what was happening! 

Okay, yeah, I get the funeral is ‘symbolically significant.’  I get that Lamarque has become, in popular culture, a symbol of rebellion and resistance against a government’s unfair policies.  I get Lamarque’s funeral is a pretty big public event that has a lot of symbolic significance ties to ideas of rebellion against the state.

I get that Lamarque’s words are often seen as a rebellious call to action, so illegally interrupting his funeral could be a statement about resisting tyranny. It could be a call to action playing off the popularity and symbolic role that Lamarque has in the public consciousness.

 But at the same time— shouldn’t Les Amis have just gone to the palace and attacked the king directly? Why disrupt this symbolic event instead? They’re not really going after the people responsible! 

After all, there were so many people there who just wanted a normal day. They weren’t responsible for what the government was doing and had nothing to do with it.  They wanted to see the procession, to hear Lafayette’s speech and grieve a political figure they cared for. They wanted to hear people praise ‘resistance’ in the abstract, without actually doing it.

 Weren’t Les Amis disrupting that?  

Aren’t Les Amis bad activists? Isn’t disrupting people’s everyday lives for the sake of 'activism' always inherently a bad thing? I’m not against activism, but isn’t doing that kind of disruptive activism rude? Isn’t disrupting the lives of ordinary people just doing their jobs or going out for a special event evil— no matter why you’re doing it, or what your goals are, or whether the government actually is doing something vile that we should start to stage great events rallying against?

Even if this Lamarque's funeral has special significance because of its symbolic pop cultural ties to rebellion against tyranny—shouldn’t they have just avoided rudely interrupting some regular people’s everyday lives? 

Protests shouldn’t disrupt things. they should be big parades that don’t make anyone uncomfortable, don’t interrupt anything, and don’t disrupt any aspects of ‘normal people’s daily life.’ No one should ever target symbolic events— like a funeral for a political figure or a musical about revolution—  to make a political statement. Protests should be little quiet festivals that cause absolutely no interruption in everyday life so that we can all just safely ignore them, until the climate catastrophe they’re warning us about arrives.”  

[radiocity]

The L Word | S2E01

[puppyeared]

is this your card? ♦️♣️♥️♠️ it isnt but you dont wanna hurt his feelings

[theloveinc]

sukuna ryomen x reader - part of this!au , the king of curses watches you get ready for a lunch date with friends.

(warning: this is a piece about body image, which mentions reader having insecurities about trying on clothing and gaining weight. that being said, this isn't so much an angst fic as it about a relationship dynamic. fem reader who is called a woman/girl, adult themes, etc. 1.3k words!)

thank u to @notvil + @saetyrn9 for sukuna pet names! <3

Most of the time, the King of Curses, Sukuna Ryomen, looks like a man. Thick set yet lean, baby-soft skin tattooed in deep, chocolate browns, and pink hair the color of April’s most delicate of cherry blossom petals, he fits into an entirely new category of handsome; one that would make your mother cry to see you standing against, but one that’d have anyone leaving another man at the altar for.

Some of the time, however, he looks like a monster.

Large and autocratic, he takes up space in your home the way a centerpiece of freshly slain taxidermy would, almost wooden, looming, like that of a thousand-year-old tree with roots more ancient than a Japanese cedar tree and a trunk just as strong.

Though normally, this form disturbs you enough to keep you from straying too far from his usual behests (most often, pulling out your bare breasts to present to him or finger feeding him food off of your plate, despite how many times he’s told you he needs no sustenance of the kind), not even all four of his arms or all four of his eyes can tear yours away from the mirror in front of you and the sides of your hips it presents as rather… surprisingly…voluptuous.

Really, you can only hope it’s the water damage behind the old silver that’s causing your belly to appear slightly more distended than the last time you last remember inspecting yourself to such an intense degree, and not the fact it’s been a few years since you stopped consistently working on your feet.

(You still sometimes pick up night shifts at the diner, during weeks when money is tight after paying rent and you’re craving something nice after weeks of rice with an occasional egg on top, but they’ve started stationing you at the register, where the only things you’re moving are credit cards through the slider and the thumb on your right hand as you play sudoku on your phone.)

The dress you’re wearing is old, and if the out-of-style pattern of its skirt didn’t make that obvious enough, the way the elastic is permanently stretched and no longer cinches around your waist makes it perfectly clear. You don’t feel… unattractive in it, not exactly… but it makes you look like some sort of old maid, you think, your ass resting just a little too full for your comfort and the frills around your bust too tacky for your liking, and not like someone who should be hanging out with a bunch of 20-something year-olds now years out of undergraduate.

Most of your friends dress in stylish ensembles they’ve collected and created over the many years you’ve known them… and while you wish you could emulate the causality they display in their effortlessly chic everyday wear, you’re still stuck living halfway out of your mother’s closet because clothing shopping is a luxury you have obviously not prioritized affording.

It’s partially why you’ve managed to push it too close to the wire to change outfits (really, you tried on two other things and felt strangely the same in them, one blouse an ugly, stained mustard and the other even more motherly looking, flaring widely over the lower bit of your belly as if that part of you needed hiding), as by now, you’ve learned there’s not enough time in the world to make you feel as confident as you do in your favorite pajamas, in your own home, entertaining only yourself.

And sometimes, Ryomen, when he feels like playing nice.

Because really, it’s hard to care about who the outside of you pleases when most of the time, your outfits (ugly or motherly or not) have no bearing on said, six-foot, seven-foot, something curse who fucks you upside down and backwards near daily every spare moment you’re able to offer yourself to him naked, and who currently stares at you like the piece of meat you really are as you stare at yourself.

Clearly, he is bored watching you, as when he’d tried picking at the clasped band of your bra, as much interest in the old lace as taking it off you accounts for, you’d succeeded in swatting at him enough times to have him slinking off to drape himself dramatically over your bed sheets again.

“Foolish woman,” he complains. “Never have you bothered wearing fancy clothing around me.”  

“It’s not about the clothing. It’s about how it’s literally been 35 pounds since I’ve last seen these friends.”

Sukuna rolls half of his four eyes, the two that don’t sit vertically or flatly on his face where they would if he looked human.

“Pounds of flesh?” he says dryly, which you ignore in favor of pulling off the frilly shirt you're currently wearing and replacing it with something much more simple you initially thought might come off as too casual, but now seems like the best option in terms of comfort.

“Of…fat,” you twist in the mirror to briefly glance back at where he sprawls, pinching the dips on your hips as though it’s obvious what you’re talking about, “that I can’t exactly hide.”

“Hide?” he repeats incredulously, his big face morphing into something much more pointed and annoyed as his words darken into a chuckle that seems to echo and vibrate between the walls. “Good women walk bare, you know.”

What you know is that Sukuna is taunting you, and that his kind of woman, the traditional, acquiescent kind, hasn’t existed for thousands upon thousands of years. It’s something he must have been forced to come to terms with since having woken up in a decade that is entirely not his, where most women (you included, as well as all the other ones you’re sure he’s encountered here) dress in business casual suits and spend their time working for the man (rather than serving one) because it’s the only way outside of finding a husband they’ll be set up to survive.

Still, Sukuna has made a few attempts at pushing the expectation of that ancient naturality on you, despite knowing you don’t have the kind of time or patience or even employment that level of… maintenance (or lack thereof, given that what he likes is when you’re completely unshaven and greased up for his pleasure) …requires to indulge him, the literal cost of it all notwithstanding.

“Good women don’t binge themselves on the latte machine at work and order lunch takeout just because someone else is picking it up.” 

The man, the king, as he sometimes demands to be called, seems to ponder for a moment, eyes not on you but on the pale, stained bed sheets he pinches between two of his long nails as he considers your response. You’re not yet sure if he really cares, but no sooner is he shooting you a nasty pair of eyes you try to ignore as you stick a hand down the back of your ass to rearrange the seamless panties beneath your leggings.

“Who, sweet girl,” he says, voice wet with a surprisingly bitter edge, “is picking it up?”

You stare at him from out of the corner of the mirror, at the way his eyebrows have narrowed, his mouth has puckered downward, and his eyes haven’t stray from your body since you mentioned it’s shape. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Nobody, actually. Starting tomorrow, I’m officially bringing in lunch from home for the rest of the month.” Letting your pants slap back down once your hand emerges from the waistband, you decide it’s finally time to suck it up and take your leave. Your friends have never been judgmental people no matter how much you’d like to impress them regardless, and you doubt one bad outfit is going to ruin the rest of your week, much less however long the friendships may last. “I’ll be good, and then you can stop nagging.”

“I am not nagging, poppet.” Sukuna scoffs, clearly offended as he shifts to roll over and face away from where, in a few minutes, you’ll no longer be, having already started preparing to grab your purse. “I’m saying good women need only care about pleasing their own men.”

“Their own, huh?” you ask, to which Sukuna humphs, though still lets you lean over your bed to give him one brief kiss on the shoulder before you leave. “I’ll have to remember that.”

[hanafubukki]

Happy Three Year Anniversary 🥹💚🌺

It’s my three year anniversary since I first started writing fanfics on tumblr. I think back about the first time I published fanfics on here and everyone I met along the way because of that one moment of time.

When I took that step to allow myself to express/be myself and publish something I wrote. It led to meeting so many wonderful people here and irl and I am forever grateful to myself and to all of you.

I am forever grateful for all the encouragement you all give me and I can’t say it enough. Be it comments, asks, reblogs, likes, tagging or what have you.

Everyday is fun and brings a smile to my face. I look forward to the future because of it.

So really, thank you everyone. I’m so happy to have met and interacted with you and hope to continue to do so ☺️💚🌺