#What Mouth

[tampire]

Jed finds The Corinthian’s Multiverse of Madness joke funny

[sunshineovertherains]

Mr. Fantastic : Black Bolt can destroy you with one wisper from his mouth

Wanda :

[no1islost]

Agent Smith did it first 😂

[childvoiceeffect2]

What mouth? Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (Child Voice Effect)

[schrodingers-cat-beans]

pov: your the illuminati 5 min after saying you can take care of “a little witch”

[canarybitching]

Waiting for MoM to be released on Disney plus so I can watch it without being constantly distracted by Elizabeth Olsens face and finally understand the plot

[dragoonwys]

Many times I feel like the sad fish you 'buy for a child because its low maintenance', stop doing that

[factual-fantasy]

Oh copy/paste and desktop Tumblr, how I've missed you so XDD

I'm still unable to sit at my desk for as long as I'd like to.. but I can sit long enough to draw some comics here and there at least! One of which being a (somewhat) angsty comic with Grim and V! Did you really think they escaped my angst curse?? It was only a matter of time before I cursed them as well! XDD

But for real, I've wanted to draw something angsty with Grim and V for a while now. And I'm glad I was finally able to! Even if its kind'aaa more of a goofy comic with angsty undertones rather than full on angst. XDD

The more I draw these two, the more lore I start to build in the background... I wonder if I should explore Grim's more serious angst sometime.. 😈😈

[dykemd]

she continues to be the moment

[autogeneratedkahootnickname]

A storytelling moment I love in Glass Onion is the throat spray. It works in the metanarrative as an excuse to not have any of the actors wear masks despite the setting, but it works in story too.

We're assuming this is set in late 2020 due to the Among Us popularity, so we're looking at peak first wave pandemic. The fact Miles has a throat spray that can, through some magic, stop the transmission of Covid for at least 4 days at the height of its spread, and the fact that, evidently, he has made no effort to mass distribute it, means either

1. This thing hasn't passed FDA approval and Miles still felt comfortable giving it to his 'friends', foreshadowing his apathy towards regulation and safety standards with Klear.

2. He's a selfish arsehole.

Both work.

[inkskinned]

kids remind me, often, of the things i've taught myself out of.

i have a big dog. he looks like a deer. he is taller than most young children. while we were on a trail the other day, a boy coming our direction saw us and froze. he took a step back and said: "i'm feeling nervous. your - your dog is kind of big."

goblin and i both stopped walking immediately. "he is kind of a big dog," i admitted. "he's called a greyhound. they are gentle but they are pretty tall, which is kind of scary, you're right. their legs are so long because they are made for running fast. i am sorry we scared you. would you like us to stand still while you move past us, or would you feel more safe in your body if we move and you stay still?'

"oh. i didn't know that about - greyhounds. i think i ... i want to stay still," he said. at this point, his adult had caught up to us. "i'm nervous about the dog," he told her, "so i'm - i'm gonna stay still." she didn't argue. she didn't make fun of him. she just smiled at him and at me and held his hand while goblin and i, with as wide of a berth as we could make, crept our way through.

behind us, i heard him exhale a deep breath and kind of laugh - "he was really big, huh? she said it's because greyhounds have to go fast."

"he was big," she said. "i understand why that could have made you a little scared."

"yeah. next time i - next time do you think i could maybe ask to touch him? when - i mean, next time, maybe, if i'm not nervous."

later, going to a work event, in the big city, i stood outside, trembling. my social anxiety as a caught bird in my chest. i took a deep breath and turned to my coworker. she's not even really my friend yet. i told her: "i feel nervous about this. i am not used to meeting new people, ever since covid."

she laughed, but not in a mean way. she said she was nervous too. she reached her hand out and held mine, and we both took another deep breath and walked in like that, interlinked. a few people asked us - together? - and i told the truth: i feel nervous, and she's helping. over and over i watched people relax too, admitting i feel really kind of shy lately actually, thank you for saying that.

the next time i go to an event, and i feel a little scared, i ask right away: wanna hold hands? this feels a little dangerous. i hesitate less. i don't hide it as much. i watch for other people who are also nervous and say - it's kinda hard, huh?

i know, logically, i'm not good at asking for help. but i am also not good at noticing when i need help. i've trained myself out of asking completely, but i've also trained myself to never accept my own fears or excuses. i have trained myself to tamp down every anxiety and just-push-through. i don't know what i'm protecting myself from - just that i never think to admit it to anyone.

but every person on earth occasionally needs comfort. every person on earth occasionally needs connection. many of us were taught independence is the same thing as never needing anything.

each of us should have had an adult who heard - i feel nervous and held our hand and asked us how we could be helped to feel safe. no judgement, and no chiding. many of us did not. many of us were punished for the ways that we seemed "weak".

but here is something: i am an adult now. and i get nervous a lot, actually. and if you are an adult and you are feeling a little nervous - come talk to me. we can hold hands and figure out what will help us feel safe in our bodies. and maybe, next time, if we're brave, we can pet the dog that's passing.

[lassieposting]

Tav, using their Pet Owner Voice: What have you got in your mouth? What are you eating? Drop it! Drop it right now!

Scratch: [whines and drops Wyll's boot]

Owlbear Cub: [guiltily spits out Boo, alive and unharmed]

Halsin, currently a bear: [drops a half-eaten salmon and makes an indignant noise]

Astarion: [startles at the raised voice, lets go of Tav's wrist, reclaims it and goes back to his breakfast once he realises they're not talking to him]

Gale: [chewing faster]

Tav, sternly: Gale...

Gale: [reluctantly spits out a powerful magical artefact into Tav's outstretched hand]

Tav, muttering under their breath: Can't have shit in the Gate.

Gale, ruefully rubbing the back of his neck, also under his breath: Gods forbid a wizard do anything

[casiia]

simon riley hates when you smoke, so whenever he feels the need to smoke he’ll wait until you’re sleeping or busy because he knows you’ll want to join him. he’ll sneak onto the balcony and light a cigarette; hold it between his index and middle finger, take a long drag and tilt his head back to watch the smoke puff from his mouth.

the sound of the door sliding makes him shut his eyes, he only sighs and drops his head slightly, moving away from the banister and sitting on the mini couch.

leaning forward to take another pull from the cigarette, he leans back into the cushion and looks you up and down. he rolls his eyes at your face, pouty lips and wide eyes glued to his hands — the smoking cig that burns ash onto his clothes.

tapping his thigh, he shifts his hips upwards before spreading his legs. in an instant you’re straddling his hips, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before reaching for the cigarette that he’s holding. simon only shakes his head and pulls his hand away from yours, sitting up slightly and wrapping an arm around your waist.

“no,” he grumbles. pulling you into his chest, he returns the gesture and pecks you on the lips. when you whine and squirm in his hold he has to bite back a grunt, his eyes hardening as you frown with glances towards the cigarette.

“don’t be like that, si.” you say, trailing your hands down his shoulders and squeezing around his biceps. you lean forward and bump your nose with his, smelling the tobacco that lingers on him. “give me a taste.”

simon knows that he’s being a hypocrite. you don’t smoke often, and majority of the times when you join him outside are when he’s smoking first. he influences you, but he has his urges and sometimes can’t wait til’ you’re away.

begrudgingly, he loosens his hold on you, rubbing your arm as a gust of wind breezes through your hair. simon tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before he settles his hand on the back of your neck.

“open your mouth.”

a smile grows on your lips and without much thinking you’re doing exactly what you’re told. you watch as simon leans forward, you can feel his chest rise from underneath your hands as he inhales. ash begins to fall from the end and you swipe away at his shirt, small smudges staining the soft material.

simon’s fingers gingerly squeeze the back of your neck, he tugs you towards him until you’re lips are just barely hovering his. his thumb caresses your jaw before he blows the smoke into your mouth, humming when you inhale it and lean into him for more.

when you tilt your head away to blow out the smoke, he turns you back to him before pressing his lips to yours. the subtle taste of tobacco that strays on your tongue makes him groan. and times like these make him hate smoking with you a little less.

[mwagneto]

i'm sorry but i cannot stop thinking about it for reallll imagine you're richer than god and never had to face consequences for anything and you have so much money you don't even know what to do with it so you toss a quarter million at the stupidest tourism option on earth. and you see that the paper you have to sign tells you you could die and you look at the flimsy metal tube you're going to be plummeting into the ocean in and it doesn't even phase you because bad things don't happen to people like you. imagine some hours into the journey you realise something is wrong. maybe not you but somehow the knowledge that there was a fuckup becomes known to the 5 of you trapped in there. and you know you can't get out from the inside and you know you have no food and no bathroom and not even the room to ever stand up again. when does the realisation that your wealth cannot protect you from your inevitable mortality set in. how does someone like that reconcile with both death and the fact that it's 100% their own doing? can someone like this even come to terms with that or will they be fighting to find someone to blame until the last second? when does it reach you that all 5 of you are going to die one by one and there's nothing you can do? does the fact that 5 of you have enough air until thursday but one of you could have enough air until at least next week ever cross anyone's mind.

[mossycobblestonewrites]

DC X DP PROMPT #16

Mr. Lancer is the brother of Lex Luthor. He never really had an eye for business, or invention, or innovation. He just wanted to be a teacher, spread the good word on literature. Which is the whole reason he had changed his name and moved to the middle of nowhere.

He does not appreciate his brother delivering a package in his door. Not delivering it personally, not even sending a physical person to do a drop off. Just a measly note.

'hold onto this for me - L.L.'

What has Lex ever done for him? Nothing, that's what. So Mr. Lancer does the sensible thing. He opens the box to investigate to find - hardened ectoplasm?

Mr. Lancer knows about Danny and co. Au where Kryptonite is just hardened Ecto and is basically rock candy. Lex sends his brother a shit ton of kryptonite for safe keeping thinking 'he lives in the middle of nowhere what's he gonna do with it?' he feeds it to Danny :)

[ef-1]

The dismantling of Roe v Wade will go down in history as one of the most damning indictments of american politics and a public health decision, no matter how short or long lived, that will shape the pain and suffering of generations to come.