#i will make some … hmmm

[the-magnus-protocol]

Crazy what a difference a year can make

[blondie-drawings]

Good lord this tomb is full of shitposts 😳😳 pt 1/pt 2

[nukacourier]

ulysses would honestly be the perfect candidate for anything enemies to lovers regarding the Courier if people weren't so focused on pretending the random one off Legion members are better written than they actually are

[theartsynoodle]

hold on for just a little bit longer

its almost over

[starry-bi-sky]

Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

[yrsonpurpose]

long haired george villiers appreciation post

[c6jpg]

Well? Have I convinced you yet?

[nabaath-areng]

I have this one "OC" that does not yet have a name that I've drawn several times for a couple years. I was thinking that if I tried making them in FFXIV that I'd use elezen as a base... but then I remembered what other race have their near exact hairstyle... and now I'm like damn... I played myself...

[iooiu]

teens being teens

[blueberry-blast]

the octopus the myth the legend

[ineed-to-sleep]

The style evolution tho. Who am I

[gurokiitty]

Three words here me out:

Strade

Wedding

Angst

a/n: i'm listening, anon !! 👂 👂 👂 ren is here too becoz why not

JUST THE THREE OF US

{ strade x ren hana x f! reader }

word count: 1.4k

warnings/tags: angst, forced "marriage", physical and psychological abuse, tongue mutilation, blood, forced intimacy (kissing), may be kinda ooc for strade?

As the morning dawned, a single ray of light sneaked through the boarded-up window, casting a thin strip of illumination across the dusty floor. It travelled slowly, like a silent, ethereal intruder in the otherwise shadowed space. You watched it crawl up to your legs, highlighting the bruises and scars marking your skin, as well as the bandages wrapped around your foot— a mocking beacon of faint hope in the dim room.

Beside you, Ren sat stiffly. His usual poise was marred by anxiety, evident by the way his ears flattened against his head each time his gaze darted to the heavy door.

Soon, the sound of footsteps approached and the door creaked open. Strade entered with a twisted smile, holding two garments. For you, a faded white dress— obviously a thrift store find— yet it held a semblance of what could have been a bride’s traditional attire. For Ren, one of Strade's old suits, dusty and unworn.

"Time to get ready," he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the cramped space. "Don’t take too long. We wouldn’t want to keep the big day waiting." His smile widened as he tossed the garments onto the bed, pausing briefly at the doorway to give one last look before turning to leave.

As the door clicked shut behind him, you exchanged a brief, fraught glance with Ren, his eyes mirroring your turmoil. The preparations were mechanical; the simple acts of bathing and dressing became an attempt to maintain a shred of normalcy.

In the small bathroom, you sat in the tub and cleaned yourself carefully below the neck. Each stroke on your skin felt like an attempt to erase the gruelling memories of the past days. The water ran pink, mingling dust and sweat with blood— a stark reminder of the reality you couldn't completely wash away.

The ordeal felt more surreal as you dried yourself and slipped the dress over your head. It hung loose on your frame, the soft material grazing your skin in unfamiliar, almost comforting touches. You looked into the fogged mirror, wiping away the condensation to see yourself. Your reflection was simple yet transformative, and for a fleeting moment, you recognized a shadow of the person you once were.

Stepping back into the room, you noticed Ren standing before a full-length mirror, smoothing his hair. He turned his head slightly as you approached, his suit hanging loosely on his frame. The mismatched fit would have been almost comical if not for the gravity of the situation. You caught his eye through the mirror and his ears perked up slightly.

His gaze lingered before he forced a smile and turned to adjust the collar of his ill-fitting suit. "It doesn't quite feel like a celebration, does it?"

You approached him slowly, the fabric of the white dress whispering against the floor. "No, but we'll get through this. Just like we've gotten through everything else." You replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

"I know we will. It's just..." His voice trailed off as he met your eyes in the mirror again, searching for an assurance neither of you could truly provide.

You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the coarse fabric under your fingertips. "We'll find a way out. Together." It was a promise, a thin thread of hope you both clung to, even as doubt whispered in the back of your minds.

The ceremony that awaited you was nothing short of a macabre performance, orchestrated by Strade for his twisted enjoyment. As you descended the stairs, the ceremonial charade Strade had set up in the living room revealed itself. A crude altar stood at the end, draped in an old tablecloth and surrounded by a few flickering candles.

Strade's presence, polished yet sinister in a crisp, red suit, only heightened the surrealism of the moment. His hair was neatly styled, transforming him into a figure vastly different from the one you knew. Yet, as the candlelight danced across his face, it illuminated his familiar smile while he puffed on a cigar; the smoke curling around him like a visible sneer.

"You two clean up nice," he mused, a sinister melody in his voice. "My beautiful bride and my handsome groom, all dolled up for our big day." His smirk widened as he exhaled, the cigar's scent mingling with the stale air.

Then, Strade stepped forward, positioning himself by the makeshift altar. "Let’s begin, shall we?" He said, taking the cigar between his fingers and clearing his throat.

“Während manche sagen, dass es zwei braucht, um eine Ehe zu schließen, / While some say it takes two to make a marriage,” he began, "Wir drei sind ein Leben lang verbunden. / The three of us are bound together for a lifetime."

His smile twisted further as he concluded in a chilling tone, "In life and death, our fates are forever intertwined."

As you stood there, facing Strade in his unnervingly handsome guise, a mixture of dread and despair settled heavily in your stomach. His eyes, sharp and calculating, skimmed over you and Ren, taking in every detail of your forced readiness.

“Now let's get to the good part, huh?” his voice dropped to a husky whisper as he closed the distance between you; his movements poised yet predatory. He reached out suddenly, gripping your chin with a firmness that made your heart skip.

“A little token to commemorate our day,” he murmured before his lips pressed briefly against yours. His touch was cold, his fingers clamping your jaw as he pulled away.

Before you could react, Strade's hand moved to your mouth, prying it open, his fingers pressing against your lips. Dread washed over you as he withdrew a small knife from his suit pocket. The sheen of the blade caught the flickering candlelight as he unsheathed it, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel Ren's gaze burning into you, a silent plea for mercy mirrored in his expression.

Strade's grip on your chin tightened as he brought the blade closer to your trembling lips, positioning it at the center of your tongue. Without hesitation, he made a long, deliberate cut down the median sulcus, the cold steel slicing through the soft flesh. Pain seared through you as blood began to pool in your mouth, spilling down your chin in thick rivulets, and staining the white of your dress.

You could hear Ren's sharp intake of breath, his own fate mirrored in the cruel twist of Strade's lips. The room seemed to spin, the weight of your shared agony pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Strade then turned to Ren, who had watched the ordeal with horror etched deeply into his features. Ren’s attempts to protest were muffled by Strade’s swift and brutal actions, repeating the gruesome act. The immediate flow of blood now tied your pains together in the most visceral way possible.

With a monstrous grin, he forced you and Ren to face each other, pushing you two into a proximity that felt both intrusive and intimate. "Now, kiss," he commanded, his voice low.

You reached up, your hands trembling as they framed Ren's face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. You could feel his muscles tense under your touch.

Reluctantly, painfully, you leaned towards him, the coppery taste of blood mingling as your lips met. The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but you pressed closer and your wounded tongues touched. The pain sparked again, more intensely, as you both stifled a groan. Blood mixed with saliva, creating a bond that was as real as it was enforced, painting your lips and trickling down in a slow, warm drip that met the front of your dress.

You could feel Ren's breath hitch, his hands coming up to rest hesitantly on your hips, his touch light, as if afraid to cause more pain— or perhaps more connection. The kiss deepened slightly, not out of desire but out of a desperate need to find solace in your shared suffering.

“This is what binds us together,” Strade remarked, “Not just some vows or rings, but blood, pain, and fear. You two are mine, in every way that counts.”

Finally, you pulled away, and the string of blood that had connected you broke, leaving only a sticky residue on your lips.

[fisheito]

at last....yakumo with CHIKEN

[somedaytakethetime]

Joe Burrow's hands appreciation post?

Joe Burrow's hands appreciation post.

[hinata-boke]

OMGGG i luv the lil iwachancitos on your commission info post sm :’) were they ever posted separately or just as examples? would you release them for a fee? 🤑

no fee required, here they are!! (he has been released.)

[canisalbus]

you say machete has to be closeted then why's he always wearing them little heels

Maybe he thinks he's a tiny bit nicer looking in them.