#babey boy...

[vonspe]

Actually lost my marbles when manfred said emmrichs name 😭

[j-femmescoli]

greatest bit he’s done yet

[hellspawnmotel]

I continue to read astro boy

[jennjamindraws]

found some “draw your faves like this” memes and a few inspired me 👀 ft. Ivy and Oakley kids from @spooky-pop

refs below cut

[strawberri-draws]

Manifesting boothill and robin next event 🙏

[kangals]

FLUFFY GUY HAS MADE HIS FIRST ORBIT OF THE SUN! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEPLER! 🎉🔭💫

[devilander]

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead. 

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night. 

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain. 

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you. 

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it. 

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings. 

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet. 

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you. 

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.” 

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you. 

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion. 

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist. 

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank. 

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth. 

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you. 

[daily-trey]

It's been a while since we dressed up like this, huh?

Ko-fi

[laylakeating]

PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS APPRECIATION WEEK DAY ONE | favourite character → Percy Jackson [insp]

[hum--hallelujah]

Take This to Your Grave is the debut studio album by American rock band Fall Out Boy, released on May 6, 2003, by Fueled by Ramen. [...] Take This to Your Grave is often regarded as one of the greatest pop-punk albums of all time. In 2017, Rolling Stone placed the album at number 5 on their list of the "50 Greatest Pop-Punk Albums".[1]

[wulfhalls]

paul atreides character statement

[screebyy]

[boy problems by carly rae jepsen plays in the distance]

i. really enjoyed the radio message this week

ID: a 2 panel comic featuring Crow and Petra Venj from Destiny. Panel 1: Crow is sitting cross-legged on a purple couch. He is wearing a black t-shirt with a white bird on it, in the same pattern as his in-game cloak, and dark gray shorts. There is a reddish-purple blanket draped around his shoulders. He is holding a tub of chocolate ice cream in his left hand and is lifting a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth with his right hand. He is crying and has a comically sad expression as he looks up at his ghost Glint, who is floating to the left and looks sad. Crow says: "What if Jolyon doesn't want to talk to me though? What if he doesn't like me anymore? Wah." There are multiple frowny faces surrounding him in speech bubbles. Panel 2: A black cellphone has been thrown from off screen and hit Crow in the face with a "bonk" sound effect. Crow is in the middle of tumbling over on the couch from the impact, spilling his ice cream. Glint looks alarmed. A cartoonish cutout of Petra's face is shouting angrily from off-screen: "Just call him, idiot. And stop eating all my ice cream."

[sincericida]

ANDREW GARFIELD

on backstage of "The Amazing Spider-Man 2" (2013)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

obsessed with whatever experiment he was doing here ..... like what ARE you doing that was so vital .....

[X-Men #31: "We Must Destroy the Cobalt Man!"]

[cryscendo]

Three weeks ago, Dick had a loving mother and father. A glamorous life as circus aerialist. Adoring crowds chanting his name. Now he’s orphaned. Masked and anonymous.

dc comics + tv tropes (1/?)

[avicinda]

boing