#back on our bullshit!!

[bizarrelittlemew]

bro <3

[hellenhighwater]

wait, you're a lawyer? for real?

I got an associates in stage tech, a double BFA in Graphic Design and 3D Design, and then went to law school on full academic scholarship, booked twelve classes, fell asleep during the Bar Exam three times (but passed with flying colors before the curve), and the motion for my admission to practice (put forward by my brother, also a lawyer), started, "My sister has many issues, but the one before the Court today is that of her admission to the State Bar of Michigan."

And somehow yes, they do let me practice law.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 209

Now Jason was planning on, well, a lot of things, when he came back to Gotham. He had a lot of plans, several of which had to do with the old man and even more that had to do with cleaning up Crime Alley, making it safer and all that. 

What he was not planning on was to find some sort of lab in the basement of where he was planning on setting up a safehouse. Nor was he planning on finding several literal children in cages inside said lab. Oh and Lazarus Waters- but children! With muzzles! Being experimented on!

Now he’d like to say he had a plan in what happened next, but if he’s honest everything had gone Green and he didn’t remember what happened next, only that he’s back home with said children and covered in blood. Oh and everything smells of smoke. 

… And apparently there’s more of these things dotted around Crime Alley with the rest of these kids, er, siblings? Family? Fright does mean family? Okay kids, he’s not turning into Bruce but you can stay here while he deals with this… however long that takes. 

He better not be turning into Bruce he swears-

[thisismisogynoir]

I love it when women hate men. I love it when women are allowed to vent to each other about how horrible and creepy men are. I love it when women form friendships with and prioritize each other over relationships with men(whether they're attracted to them or not). I love it when women put men dni in their bios and on their nude photos and on posts on their blogs. I love it when women refuse to mollycoddle and accommodate entitled male feelings with "but this doesn't mean I hate all men, I know a few men who are great, I love my father/sons/brothers/uncles/male cousins/guy friends" I love it when women complain about men WITHOUT "not all men" being a disclaimer. I love it when women avoid socializing with/refuse to be around/befriend/get close to men because they know men can't be trusted. I love it when women make "kill all men" jokes. I love it when women offer absolutely no concern or care for men's feelings and if their misandry offends men whatsoever because why should we, men are the oppressor class who have raped and killed and abused us and kept us as subjugated as second-class citizens for millennia, they regularly mistreat us and the women in their own marginalized communities still every single day and make this world so much harder and more awful for us to be in, and if we choose to hate them and not spare them any sympathy then so be it, and I don't just mean "men as a class" either, you can be a woman who doesn't want to have anything to do with any man on an individual basis and completely cuts off men from her personal life too and ykw I will love and fucking support you in that because men deserve absolutely NOTHING from us. If they're so tough and strong then they can handle it just like they can handle being lonely. If you are a woman who hates men, ESPECIALLY IF YOU ARE A LESBIAN AND/OR A TRANS WOMAN, then just know that I love you. I love you, I support you, and you are safe here.

[legobiwan]

So I find it a little odd that Mario shakes his brother's hand like he's trying to win political office rather than having just been rescued (again) from one of King Boo's paintings at the end of Luigi's Mansion: Dark Moon.

But then I was thinking - this might be a kind of instinctual response.

From what we can gather over the three games, being stuck in a painting isn't a passive experience, but one that is disturbing, disorientating, and mostly likely tantamount to torture.

And given King Boo's abilities, who knows what kind of environment he has dropped his victims into with these settings. The landscapes, you might say. There's no definite background in any of the trapped paintings, ghost or otherwise, but it does beg the question of what can be felt, seen, heard, or otherwise perceived by someone who is trapped in a portrait. Does the hunter create the cage, enrichment area and all, or are the trappings beyond the frame (inside the frame) more akin to being trapped within one's mind and all the pitfalls that could emerge from that?

We see three iterations of Mario being freed from the painting in each game. The first being total confusion and possible injury; the second looking like some kind of hallucination, given Luigi's concerned expression; and the third being a form of decorporalization (not a real word, but whatever), as Mario seems shocked to learn he has a body again.

The first might be attributed to King Boo's insistence of straight-up physical torture combined with E. Gadd's more medieval equipment, which had likely been less-than-tested in extracting someone from a portrait. (And if the de-portraiting process was that bad, imagine what it was like for the ghosts going in. No wonder they held a grudge. I love E. Gadd, but oh boi, is he the pinnacle morally ambiguous mad scientist).

Anyway, in the third installment, Mario definitely shows signs of having been disconnected from his physical form, perhaps meaning that his time inside the portrait reduced him to a neutered, mental representation of himself, incapable of fighting back in the real world. But this being said, he seems to recognize Luigi on-site, rushing forward to give him an enthusiastic hug, which is the reaction you'd expect after being freed from a pair of diabolical ghosts, one of whom is trying to thirst-trap the other through psychological torture.

So what's the deal with Mario's reaction in Dark Moon?

My guess is that King Boo trapped Mario in a painting that was a distorted reality, or perhaps a distorted version of Mario's own insecurities. It would account for the disorientation and the fact Mario comes out of the painting gladhanding his own brother like a stranger. (Which would also account for Luigi's concerned reaction - what the hell is my brother doing?)

And you figure, Mario, at this point, is a kind of figurehead, an idol, a hero of the Mushroom Kingdom. It's become his identity, it's who he is, it's what he does and is known for. Of course, part of this role is going around and shaking hands, being present - at least physically - at press conferences and speeches and all the like. The people need a focal point, a representation of their hopes against the violent and numerous incursions upon their land they suffer from outside forces (although in complete transparency, my personal headcanon is that Bowser's kingdom used to be comprised of at least a part of the Mushroom Kingdom, and that that land and sovereignty was stolen through a series of bad treaties by his father and some of the more malicious factions of the Toad Council, thus leading to both the enmity between the kingdoms and some serious economic and trade repercussions in the Darklands, but that's a whole other post.)

Mario must be so used to blindly shaking hands and putting up that front, that character, so much so that he doesn't even think about it anymore, and it's my theory that this is the version of Mario that emerges from the portrait in Dark Moon, perhaps having been wrested from some situation where this almost desperate attempt at approval was manifesting from Mario's own subconscious.

And poor Luigi. You have to wonder if one of his latent fears is becoming another empty face in the adoring crowd surrounding his brother. The Mario that emerges is not 100% connected to the fact he is Luigi's brother, it seems, is just putting on airs and the right words and actions as he may have been trained to do by the Toad Council. (Who, incidentally, are one of my favorite scapegoats in the series). Talk about a nightmare come to life.

It fits, in a way. Mario's first abduction results in physical harm, his second in mental, his third in more of a depersonalization - perhaps a rushed spell enacted by King Boo as he was, by the time of the whole hotel debacle, was far more preoccupied with his idea of trapping Luigi than enacting harm on anyone else beyond imprisonment. Because by the time Luigi's Manion 3 rolls around, King Boo is almost deranged in his obsession with Luigi, and I wouldn't be shocked if his non-existent heart wasn't into the nastier sides of portrait capture when it came to Luigi's friends and family. But oh boi, if he had captured Luigi in one of those paintings - good night, nurse.

[syst3merr0r]

Old Moon my belobed, how I've missed you

[ohmygodletmesignup]

“You were scared of that-?” Diana asked Flash, gesturing to Danny, who’d gotten stuck in a door after accidently going tangible.

“Terrified.” Bruce said, ignoring the look from Barry.

“I was not!” Flash exclaimed, defensive, but they all knew it was a lie.

[crowreys-wormstache]

Ah yes the four houses, corresponding with the four types of students

Sports

Brains

Arts

And, of course, nepo babies

[izzyhandsy]

so i’m rewatching to prep for s2 and i just noticed that in ep4 Stede’s tirade to Mary about the “monotony” is directly followed by Ed’s rant to Izzy about how “it’s all so fucking boring” (with the model ship serving as a point of contention in both scenes, more symbolically with Ed and Izzy but Izzy is literally holding it for the whole conversation and he and Mary are both rejecting the idea it represents) and i’m just going insane over the show literally saying “Izzy is Ed’s WIFE and he has been SCORNED for accepting the LIFE THEY SHARE” and it’s actually kinda more tragic because Izzy actually likes the life they have whereas Mary was just resigned to it and i can’t do it y’all-

also Ed saying “I haven’t died yet, have I? We should try that.” like it’s just assumed that Izzy would be dying with him (and he’s not wrong) i’m frothing at the mouth

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: nsfw/18+. afab!reader. vaginal fingering. masturbation (m + f). doffy-typical condescension. wc: 980

Doflamingo arranges you on the immense bed like his pretty little fuckdoll, pulls down the silken sheets and props you against the copious pillows, instructing you to touch yourself for him—he’s had a long day, and he wants his darling to give him a nice show. He undresses as he steps away, unbuttoning his shirt with an unhurried pace, letting the crisp, white fabric slide down his sinewy forearms before it flutters to the floor. He cocks his head and watches your fascinated expression as he teasingly pulls his trousers down over his hips, letting your eyes follow the v-shape carved into his lower abdomen and the trail of blonde hair leading down to his half-hard cock, already leaking for you. He hungers for the way your eyes light up at the sight of him—he requested a show from you, but he secretly relishes putting on one for you, too.

He pulls up a chair at the end of the bed and languidly strokes himself hard as he observes you; it’s charming, he thinks, how coy you are as you start, that no matter how many times you perform for him, there’s always a hint of bashfulness in your actions, as though you’re doing it all for the first time. He throbs as you take your time, avoiding his glances and running hesitant hands over your nude form, stifling moans until they’re only little sighs, tentatively circling your middle finger over your clit as though you’re unsure of what he wants, even though you know his desires as thoroughly as your own. He throbs in his palm and inhales sharply through his teeth as you finally slide two fingers inside your pretty cunt and pump them in an out, your knuckles beginning to glisten from your slick.

It’s such a shame, Doflamingo contemplates as he runs his thumb over the head of his aching cock, spreading his precum over the tip—no matter how you keen and sigh as you pleasure yourself, he knows that your hands are no match for what he can do to you. You can’t fill yourself the way his cock can, heavy and thick, stretching your walls until tears run down your puffy cheeks and you whine that it’s too big, right before you beg him to fill you more. You can’t reach the depths that his long fingers can, can’t quite stroke that spot inside you—the one that makes your legs quiver and your teeth clench—the way that he does. No matter how well you know your body, he knows it better, and no matter how successfully you can make yourself tremble and spasm on your own, he can do it even more brilliantly—he can make you keen, make you sob, make you grip the sheets until your fingers dig into your palms and your breath hitches in your throat until his name leaves your lips like a hymn. And why, when he can easily aid you in reaching heaven, would a generous god like himself allow his devotee to suffer?

“Pathetic,” he murmurs under his breath as he stands from his chair, his palm still running over his length as he approaches you and sits down on the bed. Your eyes open at the mattress shifting underneath you, and Doflamingo knows that look, can interpret that glimmer in your teary eyes—the one that admits your weaknesses and your shortfalls, that says you need him more than you’ve ever needed anyone. But a look isn’t enough—he needs to hear it.

“Do you want help, little bird?” he asks, words saturated with condescension. He places his hand on the side of your face, stroking your cheek as if to reassure you that it was all okay—it was okay to need him, to admit that you could never give yourself the gifts that he could.

He sees the hesitation, the way your lips press together and your brow furrows—you’ll beg him with a glance, but forcing you to admit your sins was another matter, and your reluctance makes his pulsing cock ache even more exquisitely for you. You finally nod and turn your body towards him, stilling your hand as you pout, “Please?”

“I really have to do everything for you, don’t I?” Doflamingo sighs, a halfhearted effort to hide his delight, but his elation is unmistakable as a lascivious grin stretches across his face.

A chuckle that turns into a low groan rumbles in his chest and he pushes your legs apart, grasping your wrist and slowly pulling your fingers out of your dripping cunt. He raises your hand to his mouth, lavishing your fingers with his tongue, savoring the taste of your juices—you taste like desperation, and want, and a heated need to be blessed by your merciful god. He lowers his hand to the apex of your thighs, to that temple of divinity that even he cannot resist, and slides his middle and ring fingers inside you, teasing you with a few shallow thrusts as you writhe on the mattress, adding his index finger to fill you the way you crave.

“Aww, now that’s better, isn’t it?” he coos as you clench around his fingers, and he feels a deluge of your slick coating his hand. You don’t answer him, too busy bucking your hips into his touch, your head pressing back into the pillows as his name pushes its way out of your lungs. But it’s perfectly alright that you’re stricken wordless under his hand: the way you cry out for him as he curls his fingers upwards and strokes your walls, the way your back arches as he presses into you and your thighs tighten around his forearm, the way your greedy little cunt flutters and spasms as he easily pushes you over the edge—that will be the only answer he ever needs.

[buckymilf]

this year catws will be 10 years old in april, so nothing better than make a revival of this lowkey "dead" ship aka stucky, let's make stevebucky great again for all of our sakes.

[that-one-raccoon]

More Magic and Mystery lets gooooo

[t4tmetalsonic]

How it needs to go:

Sonic sacrifices himself to save the shatterspaces

While he's fading away, Shadow tries to save him

(The world is already saved, he doesn't need to do this if he hated Sonic. He's doing it because he cares)

Shadow makes it just in time, but doesn't realise. He thinks Sonic is gone, that he's dead (and so do we)

He says some corny sentimental shit like "come on Sonic, you can't die here. You were right, I DO need you" because who's gonna hear, right?

Sonic wakes up. He heard, and cracks some stupid joke about it

Shadow punches him

(And then hugs him)

[mushtoons]

nice rack bro 😎👍

[dutiful-wildcraft]

Pack 141 - Vampire!Ghost Headcanons

Tags: mentions of blood and scars, mostly just HCs of Ghost as a vampire, some very light ghostprice, even lighter poly 141, if ya squint

Ghost who's change had been partially undergone in a shallow grave in a southern countryside.

Price had been the one to find him, bringing him home and helping him through the rest of his change. Taking on the role of his new sire. He had known Riley prior, a strong and bright soldier. And while Price should have taken appropriate action and put him out of his misery…he had other plans in mind.

Unsired vampires generally don't survive, and the ones that do often become feral or have very significant behavioral problems. Due this arrangement, Price and Ghost share a very intimate bond.

Simon hadn't been aware of the monstrous world around him prior to the events around his changing. And upon learning of Price's lycanthropy he felt a bit betrayed for some time. He would eventually come to understand, but he was definitely salty about it.

This being said Simon was not socialized as a vampire. All his information came from Price and what official reports they had on his kind in general. He isn't totally out of his depth, but there are some pieces missing.

By vampiric standards Simon is still a fledgling, though only other vampires would clock him on that.

Through diligent training Price helped Simon through any frenzy instincts, though it isn't completely gone Simon has exceptional control around the copious amounts of blood that come with his profession. Not to mention the mask helps muffle the scent.

What Price finds most amusing, is that after most of the wrinkles are ironed out, Simon is largely indifferent to the change. He carries trauma certainly, but the new found power and diet appears to have not phased him fuck all.

Simon still stubbornly takes his tea at the same time, after having gone through some trial and error. He found he can still drink his tea albeit a little altered. Blood with 3 sugars please.

Though Simon had eaten his mess hall gruel without complaint for years, he did miss the routine. He still slinks off to his room to eat his own meal on the same schedule.

While he doesnt burst into flames with the sun touching his flesh he is significantly weaker. He was already prone to burning red like a lobster in his human life. The change didn't make things to terribly different. The mask and layers of clothes prevent most of the issue.

Due to certain traumas around his change. Simon is very particular about feeding. And besides emergencies or very specific exceptions. Simon does not feed from the source. He often just drinks from a canteen/bottle with a blood/water mixture. To human onlookers it would honestly just look like he was using the flavored water enhancers. Which also brings Simon a certain kind of amusement.

As is common, Simon has enhanced strength and senses. He now possesses a red pearly tapetum lucidum or “eyeshine”. He suffers through the ‘sunglasses at night’ jokes to avoid any questions or accidental detection on night ops.

The change did not make Simon ethereally beautiful. He looks mostly the same besides paler skin, red tinted eyes and new shiny fangs. He still maintains all his scars/marks and tattoos from before. And while his healing factor prevents most scars, significant wounds may still scar lightly or the scar may take decades to fully fade away.

Simon doesn't feel cold to the touch per se, but he does run cooler than the average human due to his altered metabolism.

If available, he does prefer to at least long ‘nap’ during the day. While it's possible for him to carry on normally during daylight hours it does take more out of him.

Generally speaking most normally socialized vampires forgo sleeping regularly all together. Price however, insisted upon resting during Simon's changing. “Good for your mind” he'd stated gruffly. And Simon had kept up with it ever since. While he does legitimately sleep, this happens less often. His naps being more meditative in nature.

Similarly to Price, Simon does have brood instincts which occasionally become a point of contention between the two. Price's alpha wolf mixed with Simon's brood nature have them butting heads possessively over other members of the task force on occasion.

They are both smart enough to know the common goal of ultimately ensuring safety and care over their brood/pack mates. And most of the time they behave…but sometimes…

[campbyler]

heads up that i will be using chapter 10.2 to promote my mike and mitchell best friends forever agenda thanks