#thanks for the good meal~

[gamebunny-advance]

I didn't get a chance to vote on the poll, but also noticed what would have been my answer wasn't there so I'm writing it in now- I personally see it as he's their CREATOR first, manager second. They don't call him manager in a lot of materials, and they also don't call him father, they call him "Captain" or "sir," (this being pulled from largely the additional voice actor's portrayals at least, which I think are worth at least considering in a wider scope of interpretation)

That feels like the title or nickname he'd prefer they use, hence programming them TO use it for him- and that betrays neither fatherly intent nor producer intent, but pre-existing intent he didn't change (lifting from prior coding) or that he preferred. Beyond that he definitely refers to them as troops- it is their aesthetic, but it's more impersonal

the items you get for the lore on 1010 are toys, and while it's not stated, I've always thought there was an implication that he had made them- His relationship then isn't one of a father to sons, but of a creator about his creations, which IS different. It's why he's as willing to literally throw them at you in combat and, simultaneously, seemingly instinctively, puts a hand out in front of himself to protect them when the final attack is coming- even if they are tools to some degree, he MADE them what they are and he's PROUD of that- He doesn't want to see his work destroyed

Obviously this gets increasingly more complicated if you believe that 1010 gain sapience of some degree, but I still think the relationship isn't quite what I'd call fatherhood. He is simultaneously all the family they have and deeply, inherently unlike them- yet there is undeniably pieces of him and influences from him present in them, because every creation will reflect its creator in some way, in ways they can't even predict

Then, y'know, yeah, it's being a manager time. Ultimately he's gotta organize them and tell them what to do- how he feels about that could be a variety of ways, but he is doing it nonetheless, so something about it matters to him as well- likely the vow to serve the city thing, if leading a boyband is the way to ensure the lights stay on, then he's going to do it 'till his heart gives out.

To start, I do think you're getting a little caught up in the semantics of the poll, but since you're making the case that "creator" is different from "father," I'll hear you out.

And tbh, I really like that interpretation. It's a little more nuanced from what I'm used to seeing, and it is giving me something to sink my teeth into.

I do differ in that I don't think Neon J. personally made the toys or the base 1010: I felt like the implication of the MKI - MKIII standee was that 1010 has actually been around since the wartime era, since MKI 1010 are build more similarly to the recycled battlebots in the Metro Division. Parallel to that, I think it's implied that Neon J. is a cyborg due to suffering injuries in the war. Since they appeared to exist at the same time, it seemed more likely to me that 1010 and NJ's body originated from the same source, but not that NJ was necessarily the direct creator of either them or the toys. (Though, I will admit that knowing that the toy company is called "J-1" does imply that he has something to do with it. But to rectify that, I'm gonna say that he just bought out the company/factory, but he didn't start them.)

But that's just an argument of history. Both interpretations can still lead to the "creator" theory in the sense that NJ still views 1010 impersonally, but still fondly. Even if he didn't make the base, he still turned them into what they are today, which is still a lot of hard work and dedication to the craft.

It's not making him out to be this overly sentimental guy (which is ultimately what I dislike about most "father first" interpretations), but he's also not heartless, and I like that. It's retaining what many interpretations (including mine, sadly) sometimes miss out on, and that's that he's an artist, just like all the other stars. He values his craft, and 1010 are the result of that, for better or worse.

[izartela]

All turtles for the @somerandomdudelmao fanart series are now done. :D I may do some more later on if inspiration strikes, but for now I'll be moving on to other projects (some also turtle related).

On another note, if anyone would like to get any of these fanarts as prints, let me know in a comment or message me. I'll post a specific poll and info sometime later but I wanted to know if there actually is any interest first.

[caelanglang]

when they started to fall, it never stopped : skk

[maxsix]

[xbraveheartx]

Still drives me absolutely bonkers thinking about the moment you first start to change and become human in Lies of P, is the moment after you fight Romeo and go back to the hotel. Sophia notes you don’t look so good after she mentions the necklace Romeo had— the one that says “To Romeo from your friend C”. It visibly affects you and you’re not sure why just yet.

Where only after that, you hear Romeo’s voice whisper “Carlo” and suddenly you have physically changed. Your hair is longer, your shoulders are broader, you have physically been altered because encountering Romeo and hearing him say that name awakened something deep within you that wants out.

And the menu screen where your very heart sits is now the Opera House in flames with a bundle of white stargazer flowers sitting beside it.

Bonkers, man— BONKERS!!

[kirby-the-gorb]

[sugarpasteltmnt]

On the note of 'heartfelt creature'(despite being utterly insane), I would like to leave you with this lovely mental image;

Void attempting to eat a giant marshmallow.

I mean, he hasn't had one in at least five years, right? He just straight doesn't remember. How does he-Does he gnaw on it? Squish it only for it to puff back up again? Shove it down his throat and choke?

I know he's 'probably?' still sensible enough to know how to eat things properly, but I just wanted to give you this funny thought.

teehee! that IS a fun image to think about 🩵 Leo's eating habits since returning to earth have been abysmal. He's been acting on both impulsive desire and instinct. Sometimes grabbing things he most certainly shouldn't be eating. (cough-chapter 15-cough)

But I like to think that the Krang alien race is incredibly resilient. Perhaps even self-sustaining (only adding to their 'we're superior' complex). And because of that, Leo hasn't eaten much since returning. Both focused on his mission and the Krang-half of him sustaining him, Leo's regular bodily needs like eating and drinking take the back seat. Especially since he's used to feeling hungry and thirsty for the past five years.

But when he does eat.... it's the greatest feeling in the world.

[pastafossa]

“It’s... Really Yellow?” (Matt Murdock x f!Reader, Fanfic)

Ok so in honor of ALLLLLL the good Charlie news today and us getting a little more of him in the red and yellow suit in the trailers, I’ve decided to finally pull this little drabble out of my folders and finish it since I’ve gotten some requests about what The Red Thread!Reader’s reaction would be to Matt’s new suit. You do NOT have to have read TRT to get this, it’s just a nice bonus (and for those who DO read it, just know this is set *waves* in their future).

Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Rating: Mildly NSFW at best. There’s some suggestive stuff, lots of innuendo, but no sex or anything.

Summary: Foggy needs you to help him convince Matt that red and reflective yellow are ridiculous colors to wear as a stealthy Devil. Unfortunately for Foggy, Matt knows exactly how to convince you otherwise.

Wordcount: 2,942

Warnings: innuendo, language, Matt turning the Devil voice on you, bad use of puns, Matt’s ability to look good in literally anything

“Look at me,” Foggy said fiercely, pointing at your eyes and then his. “You can’t forget what we talked about when he shows up. Ok?”

You scoffed where you’d leaned up against the humming a.c. unit, relaxing on the rooftop as you both waited. At least it was the rooftop of your and Matt’s building. There were far less things to worry about up here. “Of course I’m not going to forget. That’s ridiculous.”

“Good. Because it’s—I don’t know how you missed it last night—”

“I told you. I was asleep when he came in, and he had to leave early this morning for that case.” You rolled one shoulder in a shrug. “I knew he was going to pick up the new suit last night, and I tried to stay up but passed out on the couch. Woke up in bed when he kissed me bye before work. I figured he could just show me tonight when he was done with his patrol.”

“Yeah, see, that’s my point,” he said quickly, absently shaking out one foot. He was probably trying to keep himself awake. It wasn’t often you both tried to stay up for the moment Matt came back from his circuit around the Kitchen. There had to be at least one person who kept normal human hours. “It should have woken you up. You wanna know why? Because it’s—”

“It’s yellow, I know. You’ve said.”

“Yellow!” Foggy thundered, flinging his hands up towards the sky in an apparent show of outrage. “Yellow and red, ketchup and mustard! How is this stealthy unless you’re disguised as a hot dog? He’s-he’s reflective! This is anti-stealth, and he already gets into too much shit when he is stealthy! He should have woken you up like a yellow disco ball or a mustard torch!”

“What even is a mustard torch?” you mused.

“A mustard torch is what he is now,” Foggy groaned, reaching up to scrub at his face. “It’s absolutely ridiculous. ‘Why not black?’ I asked. Do you know what he said? He just blinked at me like he was shocked and said, ‘but I’ve already done black twice, Foggy.’ That’s what he said!”

“I mean… he has, though, so...”

“Listen to me.” Foggy tapped his temple, trying to psych you up. “No getting distracted. He’ll try it. He’ll use every trick he has on you. You’ve seen him in court. And you are our only tiebreaker. Karen’s staying out of it, Jess just mocks every suit he wears, and Spider-kid is too innocent to bring into this. You need to hold the line. You’re the only one who can talk some sense into him about the hot dog colors. I need reconfirmation you’re with me on this. We need to be a united front.”

And granted, you hadn’t actually seen the suit yet since Matt had only gotten it last night and despite your best efforts, you’d unfortunately fallen asleep  before he’d gotten back. But from what Foggy had said, it did sound… a little silly. It was red and yellow—and not just yellow, but apparently a reflective, gleaming yellow. Matt wasn’t exactly the best judge of color, obviously, but surely even he’d realize that painting himself like a reflective road marker would make the whole sneaky devil thing a whole lot more difficult. This was smug. It was cocky. It was…

Alright, so maybe it was just like him, but still. That was what you were here for. You’d be able to tell him he’d gone a little over the line again.

“Trust me,” you told Foggy firmly, nodding your head. You even widened your stance and crossed your arms, determined to stand strong. “I’m on your side.”

“Thank you! We can teamwork this, ok? So he comes, you see it, you point out the obvious, we get him a can of spray paint or something. Literally, any other color as long as it’s dark. I’d take fucking dark blue at this point, I’d take grey, anything but that ridiculous—”

The sudden burst of warmth inside your chest was the only warning you had before you felt the rush of a breeze overhead.

Years ago you might have ducked, but you’d gotten used to it by now, and instead, you barely blinked as Matt’s acrobatic leap carried him over you. The second he'd passed you, he twisted in the air, the movement transitioning into a smooth roll as he hit the ground. The rise to his feet was just as smooth, just as clean, the finish progressing in one fluid motion as he spun to face you before standing still to await your judgement.

“Theatrics!” Foggy barked, poking Matt’s arm. “That’s cheating, and you know it.”

“She needs to get the full effect,” Matt said defensively as Foggy poked him again, and…

Oh, you thought, your eyes sweeping down.

It had been a while since you’d seen him in anything like his first Devil suit, but you remembered fondly the way all that tough leather and strange fabric had drawn your attention to his broad shoulders, the powerful thickness of his thighs, and the endless breadth of his chest. This new suit looked much like the last in shape and in form despite a few obvious and less obvious changes—and if anyone besides Matt would know, it’d be you, since you’d stripped him out of that old suit often enough. And goddamn if you weren’t being reminded once again that Matt Murdock was always a five-course meal no matter what he chose to wear.

Your five-course meal.

“You are literally the color of a highlighter, that’s the only effect she… hey. Hey! Look at me!”

You darted your eyes guiltily back over to Foggy, breathing a little more quickly. “Yup, looking at you. I am focused.”

“The yellow!” he said quickly, jabbing urgently at Matt’s mask. “Remember what we talked about. Ok? Stay strong.”

Matt hummed. “Have you been tampering with the witness, Foggy?”

“It’s called preparing the witness. I’m not about to let you pull your Devil mind tricks on her.”

Right.

The yellow.

You could look at him and think about just the yellow.

Matt fixed his attention once more on you when he sensed your gaze return. And ok, so the mask was different. The dark, opaque eye lenses of the mask seemed an almost liquid-black in the low light, endless pools of shadow that saw right through you, saw into you beneath skin and bone, fathomless eyes made all the more startling when set within the gleaming, burnished gold of the full helmet. Because it was gold, not yellow, but gold: rich, rough as if weather-beaten, and luxuriously, dangerously warm, and yes, maybe also abso-fucking-lutely reflective, it was true. It would draw attention, maybe too much. But it… it wasn’t as bad as you’d thought, was it? Somehow, it still managed to look dangerous, like something belonging to a wild, untamed thing that you just wanted so foolishly to touch—

No, no, you needed to focus.

Matt parted his lips the slightest bit, drawing the air in across his tongue on a slow inhale. He swallowed, once, as if savoring the taste. And then…

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk.

“Stop it with the sniffing and tasting thing,” Foggy snapped. “Seriously, she’s not gonna fall for that.”

Matt let his head gradually tilt, his chin tucking down. You knew that look. It was the look of a predator, the motion confident and dripping with intent, with knowledge of what was around him. It was how he hunted, how he hunted you, and your heart skipped a beat on instinct, a reaction far beyond your control. He opened his mouth bit by bit, drawing your attention to his full lips, to the curl of his tongue as he shaped the word.

“Don’t you dare, Murdock!” Foggy bellowed.

“Sweetheart,” Matt purred, his smooth voice nothing but warm smoke and a low, throaty hunger.

“Shit,” you groaned as your knees went weak, your body flooding with heat. It was that voice, damn him: that rasping Devil voice you always swore you could feel drag along your skin like a physical thing, like torn strands of silk, like the burning brush of his mouth and the heat of a flame. When combined with that familiar silhouette and the smooth motions of his body, there was little hope of resisting. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“The color!” Foggy shouted, throwing his hand in front of Matt’s face as if it would break the spell Matt had cast on you just now, cast on you months ago, years ago. “It’s fucking yellow! Focus, woman!”

“I, um… it is… yellow.” You swallowed hard as Matt dragged his tongue across his lips, trailing his fingers smoothly along the billy clubs at his hip. In fact, the rhythm his fingertips took up looked more than familiar enough to have certain parts of your body clenching. “It’s… it is… yellow, and that might be… attention-grabbing. Which is… not a good thing.”

“I think she needs to see the back,” Matt said abruptly.

“Don’t even think about it!” Foggy thundered. “I’ll throw you off this goddamn roof, I don't give a shit about your training!”

“Sweetheart,” Matt crooned. “Would you like to see the back?”

“She would not!”

Fuck.

“...Yes,” you whispered because the only thing as good as Matt’s front was his back, and you’d never seen his ass look like anything less than a five-star masterpiece that belonged in art museums across the world. “Yes, Jesus, let me see.”

“No-ooo,” Foggy moaned, dropping his face into his hands in defeat as Matt pointedly began his gradual spin, showing off his outline with a smug grin. “Jesus, woman. You’re selling your soul for an ass?”

“But it’s his ass,” you mumbled because it was. Matt had the best goddamn ass you’d seen in your life, and that glorious roundness was now cradled deliciously in tight red leather. And maybe Foggy was right. The yellow pattern along the side of Matt’s thighs was a little obvious, but it also brought out just how much muscle was packed on those thighs of his.

You needed him to get over here.

“Does no one see how obvious the yellow is? Am I the only person—”

“D, come here and let me touch your ass,” you whispered.

“I’m absolutely shocked at how scandalous this trial has become.” Matt shook his head as he finished his spin, doing his best to sound at least mildly dismayed, his mouth the mouth of a poor chaste soul who had definitely not fucked you on a church rooftop last month. “And how would your husband feel about that? I see that ring.”

“You two are literally the worst. You cannot be flirting over the ketchup-and-mustard suit. You cannot.”

“Can and am. As for how my husband would feel, he’s given me a free pass for the Devil since Daredevil saves the city on a regular basis,” you said breathlessly as you fixated on the breadth of Matt’s chest. Yeah, you could get used to the yellow. It was a lot but he’d find a way to make it work. “He’s known about my crush on the Devil for ages. So come over here and let me grope the evidence before I rule in your favor.”

Matt let out a playful growl and ran at you, catching you around the waist and throwing you up over his shoulder with ease as you shrieked before bursting into laughter. Matt quickly spun, slapping you once on the ass and making you squirm as he grinned at Foggy and you pointedly began to run your hands curiously over the suit. “Sorry, counselor,” Matt sighed. “Sounds like the verdict’s been rendered in my favor. Better luck next time.”

“You only won because you cheated!” Foggy groaned as Matt sauntered backwards towards the rooftop door. Hopefully Foggy thought that stumble was because Matt had misstepped, and not because you had, in fact, begun to grope hungrily at Matt’s ass. He couldn’t blame you. It was right there. “This was not a fair trial, and I object!”

“Objection denied. No cheating needed,” Matt snorted. “You should have known better than to put my wife on the stand.”

“I’m a weak woman when it comes to my husband’s ass and chest, especially when paired with the Devil head tilt,” you agreed. “I have not hidden this. I acknowledge my flaws.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were this weak,” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms.

Matt spun, slapping your ass again as you shrugged at Foggy, somewhat difficult considering you were still lazily draped over Matt’s shoulder, but you did your best. It wasn’t like you minded, after all. You had a great view of Matt’s ass from here. “Sorry, Foggy. I’ll make it up to you, but I gotta side with D on this one. I rule in favor of these ass-ets.”

“Oh,” Matt sighed, as Foggy made a retching sound. “Now I’ll really have to punish you, because that was a crime.”

“How many more years will I get if I slap your ass right now as an additional crime?”

“A lifetime sentence, Mrs. Murdock. I’d advise you to think very carefully before acting.”

You pretended to think about it for all of about point-five seconds. “Done.”

Smack!

His chest rumbled against your legs as a heated shudder rolled up his body beneath you, a motion easy to track with you draped over his shoulder, with your gaze fixed firmly on the line of him. And you’d gotten him good. The texture was a little different than the last Devil suit, but you still got a nice, loud sound of it, even if nothing would compare to bare, unobstructed skin.

He tilted his head very, very carefully, his lips brushing against your side. “You’re going to pay for that one when I get you inside, sweetheart,” he murmured, so quietly you knew it was just for you.

You were counting on it.

Foggy rolled his eyes as Matt wrenched open the rooftop door, and you threw Foggy a salute. “Despite my utter betrayal, I want you to know I love you, can’t wait to see that movie tomorrow. Use the other door on your way out, we’ll be locking this one.”

“Mustard-lover!” he threw at you, as you dropped your head to blatantly watch Matt’s ass again, the door shutting behind you both.

The second you were inside, Matt set you down carefully. Then he turned and stepped into you, herding you back with the broad line of his body. You gave in happily, ceding ground as he prowled forward until your back hit the wall, a shiver of anticipation running through you.

This never got old.

Your breath caught when he dipped his head, tilting it as he listened to the sound of your body, his tongue darting against his lips as he tasted you on the air, and you swallowed down an eager moan. He swayed in closer then, tempting you, inching closer until his mouth hovered over yours. Only then did his arms rise so he could brace his hands on either side of you, caging you in. Just like that, you were trapped, the Devil looming over you in heated shades of red and gold, rich lust and glorious indulgence. “Mm, now, sweetheart, I have one very important question before we start.”

Fuck, there was that voice again, nice and low. You couldn’t resist reaching out to touch him again, sliding your hands boldly up from his waist to fan out across his chest. “Uh huh?”

“Suit on,” he purred, his lips feathering against yours with each sinful world, “or suit off?”

“Suit definitely on,” you hummed, sliding your arms around him to drag your nails down the line of his back. “Someone’s gotta break it in, right?”

He threw you a feral grin, then, the low huff of his laugh rolling rich across your skin. “Did I ever tell you I love you?”

“Every day, D. Every beautiful day.”

-x-

“Ok, but is it… how yellow is it, really?”

“I mean, you’re not mustard-colored like Foggy says. More gold. But let’s just say if you polish that helmet too much, you might cause a car accident. That shit is really reflective now that I think about it.”

“Hm. I may have to change that in the future.”

[hinamie]

Megumi is brought to beautiful rooms like this to suffer

may or may not be obsessed with @lyrebirdswrites' fic slaughterhouse it's been living in my head absolutely rent-free and I wanted to pay it homage <3

[astraystayyh]

GOOD MORNING TO MEEEEEEE

[ghost-inthe-hall]

This is porn.

I don't make the rules.

Credit to Adam Rossi as usual

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I fixed the popstar machine/j (the lesbians <3)

YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE YIPPEE YI-

[sunshinediaz]

snippet sunday 🎄

hi friends, i've had a day and now i'm at home eating sketti and enjoying silly lil tv shows

have a lil snip from mall jail fic <3

ps if you see a typo mind your business

“Okay, Eddie. Throw me a bone here.” Buck turns and leans against the front of Eddie’s truck, crossing his arms over his chest. They’re so big, bulging so pretty it squeezes his tits. Eddie goes a little cross-eyed. “What happened?”  Eddie shrugs. “It’s not my fault,” he says, reaching out to pick at a glob of mud on the hood next to Buck’s shoulder.  “It’s not your fault—you were in jail,” Buck exclaims, loudly, and kicks Eddie’s shin a little hard with the toe of his Croc. Motherfucker needs to cut his toenails; there’s no way his Croc’s got a damn blade in it. “That kind of feels like you did something.”  “Mall jail. It was mall jail. It’s not the real thing.”  Buck sputters, as if there’s so much he wants to say but he can’t get the words out in enough time, and it’s so cute, and Eddie has to bite his lip before he says as such.  “That doesn’t matter,” Buck insists, holding his hands out in a placating manner. “Just tell me what happened, man.”  “What do you mean what happened? Will Atkinson happened!”  “Eddie.”  Eddie takes one look at Buck’s amused, exasperated expression and caves immediately. “Fine. Fine.” He makes a face, screws up his nose and huffs. “I found you the perfect gift.” 

tagged by @eowon, @callmenewbie, @jeeyuns, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @hippolotamus, @devirnis, @giddyupbuck, @disasterbuckdiaz, @thewolvesof1998, @theotherbuckley, @daffi-990, @jamespearce9-1-1, and @wikiangela, mwah

tagging @spagheddiediaz because this is the one fic of mine she isn't going to read before it's posted 🫶🏼

[houndfaker]

dunmesh’s story has so little ‘romance’ (kabru and rin being the most ig ‘outright’ but still not ultra relevant from the like 2 or 3 scenes) and the most implicit “hey this is kinda” stuff is between marcille and falin but you people still wanna pair laios or chilchuck off with marcille. ok

[prolibytherium]

The Sunny podcast is just never coming back huh. Well that's okay I don't care . I'm not mad [death gripping my phone so hard the screen cracks]

[citrus-cactus]

These responses from Greg Weisman RE: Macbeth, Demona, and Shakespeare are sooooooooo funny to me like:

Macbeth was casual friends with Shakespeare, he probably revealed some deets of his life couched as history he had studied. Shakespeare takes huge artistic license w/ certain real people/events in his life, and Macbeth is just like *sensible chuckle* “oh Will, you scoundrel. Great play, but yeh know it didn’t happen like that :)”

Meanwhile, Demona sees it (/reads it/hears about it) and is like YES GOOD, poetic justice for the HORRIBLE HUMAN I’m bound to, this is how history will REMEMBER HIM, it’s what he DESERVES… giving no thought to the themes of power/corruption/being your own worst enemy and how they might apply to her, nor does she see any resemblance between herself and Shakesie P’s version of Lady Macbeth.

Both provide such a delightful mental image, and are, imo (regardless of their word-of-God status), objectively correct.

------

TRANSCRIPTION: a screenshot from the “Ask Greg” website.

21. What did Demona think of Shakespeare’s play Macbeth?

She probably considered it poetic justice.

22. Did Macbeth know Shakespeare? What did he think of Shakespeare’s Macbeth?

Yes, he knew Shakespeare. They were drinking buddies. Macbeth was amused by the play.