#it's simple but good

[unprofessionaldoodler]

part 6 of the taffy series flavor: neapolitan

[plaguedoctorate]

idk man. i just think itd be really cool if sign language classes were mandatory throughout primary school. yeah because it would make communication with deaf kids and autistic/nonverbal kids much easier. and those kids would be accessible to the others so they could make friends and have healthy relationships. yeah. and kids would eat that shit up man. like their own little secret language? they love that.

[nouverx]

*proceeds to drink the whole bottle*

Yeah Alastor you're gonna be loved and appreciated wether you want it or not :)

[hinamie]

yuuji smiling and sukuna making a face like That did u really think i wouldn't do a panel redraw

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo learns something about himself 🏳️‍⚧️

Based roughly on this old post.

Bonus:

[Leo is taking the fact that he was born biologically female simultaneously very well and also not so well but overall he’s mostly coping with the fact that it was Draxum that just essentially gave him the turtle equivalent of ‘The Talk’.]

[lotus-pear]

horrendously late entry for @luneariann’s dtiys!! congrats on one million ely i’m so proud of you <3

[kyurochurro]

and now i bring to you my concept art for my imaginary tos episode: the crew go to the beach planet (the beach episode) 🏝️

[addamii]

Some gifs of the animation I did for my animatic! They only show up for a little bit in the actual thing so I wanted to give them their own post :)

Also a video version because it’s better quality

[leisi-lilacdreams]

mikey and splinter are off camera ironing more flags leo just grabbed the first one done lol

[markscherz]

I put it to you that Scaphiophryne marmorata is peak frog.

Why?

Well first, it's pretty round, which is key.

Now get a load of those fingers.

Big, expanded discs at the end, ideal for climbing.

But what's happening back there with those toes? No discs there. Those are good for walking and hopping around on the ground.

Now, let's gently turn them over

First, excellent tum, 17 out of 10, no notes.

But what's that at the base of the foot? Those big projections? Yep, those are spades. This climbing, hopping frog is an excellent digger!

I like to think of these Scaphiophryne as all-terrain frogs. They're basically good at everything. They defy our categorical labels of 'arboreal', 'terrestrial', or 'fossorial', and say 'por qué no los tres?'—but in Malagasy, so 'nahoana no tsy izy telo?'

[mipexch]

i love animating these little freaks

[peachesofteal]

Simon with herding instinct on that physio snippet.... God what I'd do to be Reader (I'm not sick but I'm KO by my period, so I think I also deserve herding instincts and a cup of tea made by someone who is not me)

I think you deserve a little treat for your body torturing you Same reader as this (female reader)

"Fuck." You draw a deep breath through your nose and blow it out slowly, trying to push the pain away. You have a busy schedule today, and the 141 was expected to be back which meant you'd have the Lieutenant on your table at some point between now and twenty one hundred.

You do not have time for period pain.

Your appointments waltz in and out through the day, your focus turning from the stabbing, burning ache in your belly, quads and lower back, until the clock finally ticks down to nineteen hundred, and you slump over in your chair. A moment's reprieve, a second to get off your feet, exhaustion sinking into you, your longing for your bed and a heating pad stealing the whole of your attention. You can almost feel it, the hot shower, the comfort of your sheets, a cup of tea. Almost.

For now, you swallow more paracetamol and hope it lasts you through the rest of the day.

The door to the clinic swings open, and you don't need to peek outside the door of your office to know who it is.

No one has footsteps as heavy as his.

The Lieutenant.

The man you do not understand. The one who treated you like a small, fragile animal when you were sick, barging into your house and forcing you onto the couch, doling out medicine and hand feeding you warm broth. He pressed cold cloths to your forehead, held your hair and rubbed your back as you vomited.

The entire time you trembled with nerves, staring at the stitching of his balaclava, looking away each time his face turned towards yours. He hated you, why was he here?

Your fever broke, he disappeared. And the next time you saw him-

He went back to treating you just as he always did.

Coldly. Gruffly. Rudely.

Tonight would be no different.

So when you step outside and see him still in his full kit, arms folded across his chest, you wilt, already defeated, stomach tying itself in knots.

"Need m'back looked at." He barks and you fight the instinct to jump.

"Yeah, o-of course." The words are unsteady, you're unsteady, just like each time before, and he doesn't say anything else, just looks you up and down before brushing by you to get to the table.

He's the width of your workspace. Wingspan larger than should be humanly possible, width of his shoulders and back difficult to comprehend. He could tear you apart, if he wanted, so you've always treated him so carefully, staying focused, making sure you don't slip up and push his muscles too far or cause him pain. It's the same care you apply to all your patients, but with him, it's different. It's like diffusing a bomb.

His head is turned towards you as your fingers walk down the middle of his spine, working pressure points. Every time he twitches, or grunts, or even breathes deeply, you tense, but you keep your focus, kneading down to his sciatic nerve, pushing in deep, deep enough to make him groan, your heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

You don't even realize he's saying your name until he shifts on the table.

"S-sorry?" His eyes are locked the space between your legs, and you follow his sight line, gasping when you see what he sees.

Red.

Your standard issue khaki pants are stained dark red at your thighs.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm," you stumble backwards, hands flying to cover yourself, scrambling on how to get yourself out of the room and into the bathroom as quickly as possible. Your cheeks burn from humiliation. "I'm sorry, I uh- I'll be right back."

"Do you have another pair of pants?" He cocks his head.

I don't... I don't think so."

"Hmm." He continues to stare, and then, like he was having a conversation with himself, he swings off the table, reaching for the jacket he showed up in, before stalking towards you.

You stumble back, but you're too slow, and he catches you by your wrist, tugging you forward. You close your eyes. "Lieutenant-"

"Hush." The jacket goes around your waist, giant sleeves tied at your navel, the length of the hanging directly over where your pants are stained. You're not petite by any means, so the fact that this garment can even begin to cover you is a miracle in itself. But then again, he is massive. "Stay." He moves around the room, ducking into the other one with your desk, flicking the lights off, before grabbing the keys off the hook and shepherding you through the clinic to the front door.

"What... what're you doing?" There's a murderous look in his eye when he turns to you, and it freezes your blood.

"Takin' you home."

"I can get h-home myself." You hate the way your voice shakes.

"Covered in blood? You really want the entire base to see you like tha'?" The shame burns, and tears build on your waterline. "C'mon." His hand settles between your shoulder blades, essentially turning you into a ship with no sails, only a rudder at your back. Him.

He steers you into your house by your hips. You live directly off base, in civilian housing, luckiest of them all, if you're being honest, though in this moment, you're not sure you are so lucky.

"Leave your clothes in the sink." He orders when he lets you go, moving towards the kitchen.

"My clothes?"

"You know how to get bloodstains out of your clothes?"

"Oh, uh... n-no."

"Then..." he motions with his hands for your pants.

"Right now?" You squeak, and he nods.

"Now, pet." You fumble with the zipper and the button, hands trembling so bad you struggle with them. "Need help?"

"No! No... I got it." you get them down to your knees after a struggle, and then kick them off. Will he ask for your underwear too? He answers like he can ready your mind.

"Leave 'em on the bathroom floor. Shower, and then straight to bed."

"I'm not a child!" The protest is bold, boldest you've ever been with him, insecure, scared feelings coming forth in the outburst.

"Could've fooled me. Children need takin' care of, jus' like you." The words jam in your throat, stolen by the intensity of a cramp, and his eyes soften. "Go on up. I'll bring you somethin' for the pain, and some tea." There's no fight left in you, drained like the blood from your body, and your shoulders slump.

An hour later, in the dark, your door cracks. You're curled up in a ball, heating pad tucked against your pubic bone, buried beneath a mountain of blankets when the bed dips, the mass of the Lieutenant's weight settling next to your hip.

He sits you up, like a doll. Makes you take more paracetamol, finish a glass of water, and then pushes a hot tea in your hand.

By the time he's done, you slump back against the pillows, exhausted. Your eyelids go heavy, and he shifts you back to your side. You're too tired to argue with him, fight him, and when his fingers start applying counter pressure to your lower back, working through the tension, the tightness from your period, you let out a low moan. He chuckles. The man actually laughs.

"Why are you here?" You murmur in the dark, and he doesn't answer right away, sitting in the silence for too long.

And then-

"My mum always taught me to take care of my things."

[rin-may-1103]

Delilah's language (part two)

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"Tomorrow?" Danny repeated, glad he had set his cup down.

Mr. Wayne smiled, relieved Danny hadn't completely brushed him off. "yes, it's tomorrow. Damian, my son, is a huge conservationist. he gets it from his mother."

Danny blinked but before he could cut in, Mr. Wayne continued, "Oh! not that I don't care about the environment and stuff, it's just-"

"I get it," Danny reassured. he did not want to get stuck listening to Mr. Wayne try and fail to 'fix' his self-perceived mistake. "but I still don't really understand why you want me there..."

like sure, the kid's a fan of Danny or whatever (he was still trying to wrap his mind around that one.) but would the kid actually want Danny at his party? wouldn't that be like... he didn't know, weird? to just have this random guy from Illinois show up?

"Right!" Mr. Wayne coughed, scratching his face in embarrassment. "once Damian learned that the purple back gorillas would be in Gotham, I suggested we have his birthday party at the zoo. He told me he wanted to know everything he could about their species. so, I invited all the scientists working with the gorillas to the party so he could talk to them."

Danny nodded in understanding when Mr. Wayne glanced at him, even if Danny thought that that was the most fruitloop way he could have gone about it. then again, Danny's pretty sure all billionaires were fruit loops...

"He started digging into their history once he learned about them, and after some digging, he discovered that you basically saved their species. He has declared that he must meet you at all costs. something about needing to know their language?" Mr. Wayne trailed off, looking at Danny as if to see if he knew what his son meant.

If the kid was looking to Danny so he could learn the language then that meant he read the same paper Danny had. the scientists that had dedicated themselves to studying Delilah had printed one claiming that the purpleback Gorilla language was apparently hard to learn. (Even if Danny had been able to understand it pretty easily and told them so.)

they had listed Danny as the only person fluent in it so far, which now that Danny thought about it was kinda rude. they hadn't asked to put his name in there and now look at him! being visited by Fruitloops looking for him to be at their son's birthday parties.

anyways.

so, if the kid, Damian, read the same paper, he must have concluded it would be easier to learn the language from someone who was already 'fluent' than try and teach himself. (something Danny can't blame the kid for, but still.)

"KIDS!" Dad's voice bellowed from downstairs making Mr. Wayne startle and turn to glance down the hall. "IT WORKS! IT WORKS!"

...

"so, when do we need to leave?" Danny asked, all previous paranoia and reservations thrown out the window.

mr. Wayne slowly turned back, his brows furrowed in confusion. "we, uh, we'd have to leave in," he glanced down at his watch, his eyes widening a little, "an hour. I have to leave in an hour."

mr. Wayne then frowned as he looked back up at Danny, "I just need your parent's permission and you can come with me now, or I can arrange for another flight for you later tonight or early tomorrow?'

danny did not want to find out how they were going to test their new machine, so, he turned and cupped his hands around his mouth as he shouted, "HEY MA! CAN I GO WITH MR. WAYNE TO HIS KID'S BIRTHDAY PARTY?!"

it was silent for a second before she shouted back, "SURE! JUST BE BACK BEFORE WE LEAVE FOR OUR TRIP!"

oh, right. his parents had a trip planned for their anniversary. something about a huge ghost or demon trap in Wyoming they wanted to investigate.

"YOU'RE LEAVING TOMORROW THOUGH!" Danny shouted back, "DAMIAN'S BIRTHDAY IS TOMORROW! I CAN'T GO IF I WANT TO BE BACK IN TIME!"

"OH! UH, THEN JUST BE SAFE! TAKE YOUR BLASTERS WITH YOU!"

Danny blinked, then shrugged. He could do that. turning back he found Mr. Wayne staring at the floor, his brows raised and furrowed in concerned confusion. Danny didn't know someone could make a face like that, but seeing as Mom had finally gotten Mr. Lancer to curse in front of him last year, it wasn't that surprising.

"let me pack my bag and then we can get going," Danny announced, standing up and grabbing his cup from the table, silently offering to take Mr. Wayne's as well. the man handed him his full cup and watched as Danny walked away.

well, at least Danny had already told the other ghosts to leave him alone for the rest of the week. they shouldn't get into too much trouble while he's gone. speaking of trouble, Mr. Wayne lived in Gotham, a place riddled with crime and violence.

dupping the cups into the sink, Danny turned and rushed up the stairs. unplugging his phone, Danny sent Sam and Tucker a text to let them know he wouldn't be in amity for the rest of today and tomorrow. he also let them know he'd keep them updated.

once done with that, Danny turned to his closet and rummaged around until he found his old backpack. pulling it out, he dumped the contents onto his desk and made quick work of packing his essentials. Clothes, phone chargers, and ectoplasm in case of emergencies. Mr. Wayne said he'd pay for the travel fair and hotel expenses, so Danny only needed to worry about food.

glancing in the mirror, Danny finally noticed he was still dressed in his pj's. he took a second to debate whether he really cared enough to get dressed properly or not before shrugging. Mr. Wayne's already seen him in them and they're comfy, no point in changing.

zipping up his bag, Danny tossed it over his shoulder and quickly ran downstairs. Mr. Wayne was walking around the room, studying a few of the leftover project pieces that his parents had left lying around. man, Jazz was going to be so annoyed once she learned they hadn't been picking up after themselves. again.

"Alright, Mr. Wayne. I'm ready when you are." Danny greeted, stepping into the room. the man turned to look at him, a strained smile on his face, "Just Bruce is fine."

"Alright, mr. bruce then." Danny agreed, gesturing for the man to start making his way to the door.

mr. Bruce heaved a sigh, shook his head in resignation, and turned to walk out the door. digging his keys out of his pocket, Danny turned to shout into the house one more time, "BYE MA, DAD! I'M LEAVING! HAVE FUN ON YOUR TRIP!"

not waiting for a response, he closed the door and locked it. turning around, he found Mr. Bruce studying him. lifting his brow in confusion, Danny started making his way down the steps and over to Mr. Bruce's fancy car. why the man had a fancy car when he said he'd be flying Danny didn't know, but he's pretty sure it has something to do with image or something.

Vlad did the same thing after all.

Next

[yhwcomeback]

The Legendary Green Ninja! AVAILABLE AS A POSTER "Lloyd Garmadon The Legendary Green Ninja!" Poster for Sale by Yhwcomeback | Redbubble

[hinamie]

shhhh

[arcanegifs]

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: ↳ "So was I. I was angry, just like you. I led us across this bridge, thinking things could change. If I hadn't… your parents would still be alive. I know you wanna hurt the topsiders for what they've done to us. But who are you willing to lose? Mylo? Claggor? Powder? Nobody wins in war, Vi."