#{ Im feral actually }

[minijenn]

ALSO HOW IS NO ONE MENTIONING THIS

ZELDA IS WEARING LINK’S CLOAK ZELINK REAL 2024

[polinscarriage]

Okay i just thought because if your tags on that gifset of tommy leaving the party.

Tommys house is on a big call. Buck knows this because Tommy just texted him before they got there and Buck texted back 'Be safe ♥️'. But Buck hasn't heard from Tommy in a while. He tried to keep track of the call he went to but there is so much going on and Buck is getting worried. It gets worse when he gets the info that a firefighter is missing in the fire. He doesn't know if it's Tommy and it's terrifying

no because i live for this. we aren’t talking nearly enough about how worried buck obviously was.

and it’s like??? buck has always known the risks of the job. and he spent years being downright reckless anyway.

tommy isn’t like that. he’s Careful.

except.. buck has grown. hasn’t been nearly as reckless since he found out about the will.

and THAT is when he died.

he didn’t die doing something stupid. he didn’t die defying orders. he died just… standing on the ladder.

and now his boyfriend is out there. maybe on a ladder. or maybe he’s in the sky… flying through a lightning storm like the one that killed him.

so he holds his breath through every single shift tommy works until he sees his face again.

[elysiumwhispers]

liking a girl will make you go feral and want to die btw

[elleashling]

on ratio and his goals:

does anyone else ever just think about how the genius society is full of people who could be said to put their research over everything and everyone else.

ruan mei put aside the morality of creating an emanator, of slipping something into the trailblazer’s food without their knowledge, and she didn’t regret it. she mourned her creation and showed zero regard for her surviving small creations that loved her. she will probably never return for them, because she doesn’t care.

herta also very openly doesn’t care. she puts the success of the simulated universe over many other things in her life, including the wellbeing of others and even the likelihood of its success. maaaybe she cared about the acknowledgment from chadwick, but chadwick is exactly the same as her: selfishly following research without a care for the cost.

putting ratio against these characters is actually laughable to me. his entire existence is dedicated to sharing knowledge and making it public. his work connects with people. and beyond that, he forms relationships and creates connections.

he is so so human compared to any member of the genius society and yet his greatest desire is to be recognized by nous. who exclusively sponsors selfish beings who throw away morals and humanity in the name of “science”. he tries so hard to be perfect and statuesque and distant but he isn’t. the statues of him and the constant mask wearing. like he regrets being human too. explodes

i need to see more of his character arc. and also his relationship with aventurine. the kings of putting on a mask to hide their true selves. pleas

[andy-clutterbuck]

The Ones Who Live | 1x03 - Bye

[sunreys]

hm! I do wonder why augustus has decided to read a statement from the 1800s! Could it perhaps possibly perchance have to do with the fact that the third voice trapped in the computer is in fact a body hopping immortal eye avatar from the 1800s whose name rhymes with shmona shmagnus? PERCHANCE.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 237

“Wait, so, Captain Marvel is like, three?” 

Said hero pauses as he nearly passes by a cracked door, creeping slightly closer despite it being more than a little rude to eavesdrop. All of the gods were insistent, which he could say no to, but Billy was giving him the equivalent of puppy eyes, which they all knew he was weak to. 

He? They? Marvel was technically an amalgamation of the past champions, currently split between six beings, though nowhere near equally. Billy was and would be the chosen champion- pure of heart to be able to resist the Gods’ bullshit- but he had chosen a team himself, which honestly Marvel approved. 

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Hal?” 

He didn’t move from the corner, head tilting slightly at Green Lantern’s and Green Arrow’s words. Billy, not physically there, not really, wiggled down from his shoulder, passing through the wall like a ghost invisible to all but him. 

Well, him and the Gods, but Mercury’s words were muffled, nearly silenced by Solomon at the moment, so he was probably attempting to wax poetic about Flash again in a way that little ears shouldn’t hear. 

“I mean, Marvel mentioned he was created three years ago, right?” 

Ah. Marvel had meant that the newest Champion had been chosen, but well, he supposed that the team didn’t have all the information, as Solomon pointed out. And he was pretty sure that Billy was mostly in control at that point- it could get confusing with the hive-mind but not-hive-mind. It was hard to explain to those not apart of it. 

But they had to go now, Fawcett called, and it wasn’t like Billy could leave it for long. Chances were nothing would come from this anyway. 

…

Why does this feel like the intervention videos Billy showed them all. 

[skitskatdacat63]

Vettonso complaining about each other not respecting schrondinger's track limits on the radio compilation + Seb's commentary that made me a bit feral

Must include these sexy ass pics okay, it makes me feral how hard they race each other.

Also SO upset that we got this vid and there's also pictures(and presumably a vid out there somewhere) of Fernando, back then, ALSO debriefing this race. And yet we never got them together?????? Evil. Fucked up.

Imagine seeing them complaining about each other but also having to (begrudgingly if you're Fernando) compliment each other IN FRONT of each other. Maybe its a good thing it doesn't exist, bcs then I'd have a heart attack.

[s0fter-sin]

the 141 recovering brainwashed!soap but he’s just a shell of his former self; never speaking, never moving without orders. he never even blinks; just stares straight ahead with his unnatural green eyes.

empty.

but ghost can't accept that.

price and gaz can't stand watching ghost torture himself day after day; visiting soap in his cell for hours at a time, trying anything he can think of to bring back his sergeant.

he shows him pictures of the 141 but soap thinks he's being given targets and moves to eliminate them before ghost stops him. he brings him his journal, tries to trigger his innermost thoughts and feelings he never shared with any of them, but after he reads it, soap summarises it like he's giving a mission briefing. impersonal.

cold.

it's late when ghost finally calls it; low and defeated after another long day of being stared at with eyes that don't see him. he isn't thinking when he pulls his mask off and harshly scrubs over his face, grinding his palm into his eye.

"don't worry, johnny; we're still fixin' each other's problems," he promises, little more than a whisper as he tries to summon the energy to leave johnny behind. again.

he pushes himself to his feet, his hand on the door handle when-

"what's my problem?"

ghost freezes, something like grief - something achingly closer to hope - chilling him. he slowly turns and though soap is still starring ahead, there's a faint light in his altered green eyes.

"the mask," he forces out. "take it off."

he knows there's no way to remove the mask - the muzzle - from his sergeant's face. it's too high-tech, even for them; the biometric scanner too advanced for any bypass they know of.

it's just another way he's failed him; bringing him home still bound in their enemy's chains.

soap- jolts; a sharp, almost painful looking flinch jerking his body.

"show my face?" and his voice has changed; no longer the monotone delivery that's haunted ghost's every waking moment.

it's smaller. uncertain. recollection of a memory half-destroyed.

"yes, johnny," he breathes.

soap moves unprompted for the first time since they found him; running his finger along the edge of the muzzle where his skin bulges from the pressure, half-visible scars hidden beneath the harsh metal.

"ugly," he murmurs.

ghost immediately shakes his head, almost stumbling back to the table; haphazardly throwing his mask on it. "quite the opposite," he insists.

it doesn't matter if he has no lower jaw left at all; johnny could never be ugly in his eyes.

agonisingly slowly, soap's eyes shift to the mask. he takes in the balaclava and hard shell skull like for all the times he's looked at it since his rescue, he never truly saw it. his lids fall in less of a blink and more stage curtains closing; slow, heavy, requiring effort and no small amount of strength to open once more

"good... to see you again..." he trails off, his hand shifting up to the top of his shaved head; nails digging unforgivingly into his scalp

"simon," ghost finishes for him; that horrid grieving hope tearing at his heart

soap's fingers flex and a drop of blood trails down his forehead, over the ridge of his nose to catch on the muzzle. "s-simon..."

his nails dig deeper, the drop falling to the table just to be followed by more and ghost aches to stop him but he's terrified to interrupt him. terrified to lose him now when he's so close to something.

soap's bloodied nails scratch down the crown of his head, following the line of his stolen mohawk until they come to rest on the back of the muzzle and ghost's heart drops.

they can’t get it off.

they can't get it off and he doesn't know how to explain that to soap; doesn't know if he can stomach watching soap pull at the monstrosity holding him captive, the inevitable bloodbath as the edges cut into his skin.

"show my face," soap repeats.

"johnny..." ghost begins weakly, reaching out to him but he doesn't know how, doesn't know if he even should-

the muzzle clatters onto the table.

the biometrics they couldn't bypass, the fingerprint they needed that they were so sure belonged to makarov.

it belonged to soap.

how cruel to torture him with freedom he didn't understand he could take; didn't even understand he could want.

just the kind of sick game makarov loves.

ghost doesn't know what's louder; his heart pounding in his ears or the long, uninhibited breath soap takes.

his eyes fall shut as he leans his head back with it, the blood still dripping down his face as he straightens through his exhale. his lower jaw is a mess of scars where he fought against the previous iterations of the muzzle, the corners of his lips cut through and cracked.

but the green in his eyes is duller; that light sparking brighter as blue struggles to break through the glow.

ghost's never seen anything so beautiful.

"good to see you again, johnny."

[leggyre]

im the most carbon roller ever my mom said so

[spoiledmilks]

He was so girlboss in the movie

[transmascissues]

does anyone want to hear me rant about how jekyll and hyde can function as an allegory for how trans manhood is portrayed as an evil contagion that twists pretty, mild-mannered women into violent, deformed monsters? because i’m not even done reading it yet and i already have so many thoughts about the parallels between how hyde is described and how trans men are seen.

[introspectivememories]

The model!Bernard is great but wouldn’t it be mostly likely Tim to be the model since he is a public figure?

yeah ig, logically, tim would be more likely to model than bear but i was thinking of this image when writing that

the og image gives off a sense longing more than horniess but i'm tired of making everything sad. also i just think bear is pretty enough to model. like look at him. this tim and this bear

or wait, fuck, this tim and this bear

model!bear and ceo!tim become gotham's it couple. the tabloids can't stop reporting on it. there's a new breakup rumor every week. the wayne fanbase on twt goes rabid over it. there are fansites dedicated to them. @/imyellingtimber, @downbadfordowd, @drakeinpants, the whole works. they get married and the internet breaks.

[t1oui]

barty crouch jr. is eleven the first time evan rosier takes his breath away.

he's a second year in barty's house, with warm brown skin and blonde hair and amber eyes that flash gold in the sunlight. he knows regulus. one of barty's dormmates, somehow, and he smiles at barty like he wants to know him, too.

barty is thirteen when he finally figures out what the butterflies in his stomach mean.

they're sitting down at the lake, barty on the grass, soaking up the sun. pandora sits on a blanket next to him, her half of it in the sun, the other half underneath regulus in the shade of a tree. dora's busied herself with making flower crowns, and evan and dorcas are swinging at each other and laughing, both ankle deep in the water of the black lake. evan reaches up to kick water at her, and the silver of his anklet - a thin chain with a silver daisy charm hanging off of it - catches the light.

dorcas ducks away and shoves evan square in the chest, sending him stumbling back a few steps before he finally lands hard on the grass next to barty. it must've hurt, even in the soft green, but instead of wincing, he just turns to barty and grins.

oh, barty thinks. it's so obvious, he thinks.

barty is a fourth year the first time he kisses evan rosier.

it's the first christmas he doesn't go home for. he spends long hours knocking about the castle, staying out past both the regular curfew and the one made later for the break.

"can't sleep, crouch?" evan had asked him, making him jump, polished prefect badge - no doubt pandora's handiwork - sparkling from his collar. and suddenly there was mistletoe and the chance to finally make his fantasies a reality. there was the taste of evan's lips (vanilla) and the smell of his shampoo (cucumber) and the feeling of his arms around barty's waist (intoxicating).

even on that dreary, cold evening, there was hope.

barty is a sixth year when regulus begins going out with james potter.

they're on the train, barty halfway out the window, evan's arms tight around his middle in the fear of him falling, and barty hoots with laughter when regulus jumps into potter's arms. potter's a seventh year like evan. head boy, a gryffindor, and one of pandora's best friends, for some reason.

"leave them be, barty," evan snorts, pulling him back through the window. barty watches him, opening his mouth to speak, only to be swiftly cut off by his boyfriend adding, "we can be as dramatic as we like, but i'm not risking missing this train just so we can kiss in front of it."

barty groans in protest, but by that point regulus has arrived at the door to their compartment with a sheepish-looking james potter in tow, so he decides to annoy them instead.

barty is seventeen the first time he comes to hogwarts without evan, and it makes him feel empty.

he's still got regulus and dorcas, of course, but there's a gaping hole in the group now that the twins have graduated. regulus is quiet without james to bring him out of his shell. dorcas doesn't cheer as hard during quidditch games - ones without regulus in them, of course - without marlene mckinnon there to cheer on. and barty? barty isn't himself without ev there to easy his anxieties.

night after night, barty and regulus curl up in the same bed for nights of bad rest. it gets easier, over time. letters pile up. floo calls happen weekly. and while regulus and dorcas struggle, barty thinks about the future. the one decided by him, and not anyone else.

two days after his eighteenth birthday, barty steps off the hogwarts express for the last time.

regulus and dorcas don't hesitate to sprint past him towards james and marlene, who wait with evan futher down the platform. barty, though, hesitates. gives himself a moment to take a deep breath, smile at evan, and start running.

evan envelopes him in a hug, his arms a reassuring weight around barty.

"you must be tired," he whispers, the hint of a smile in his voice. "eight newts, barty. you're insane."

barty grins into evan's chest. "i missed you too, rosie," he mumbles. he lets out a content sigh he didn't realize he was holding in, and evan hums.

"welcome home, love," he says. "our home."

[philocalistwrites]

I'm going fucking feral

[spider-man-2o99]

hits the disinformation machine with a bat a big bat a big heavy lead-core thick wood bat kablam whack whack whack whack whack. miguel ohara does not have "spider instincts," he has never in even one piece of official material ever had nor experienced the phenomenon that fandom colloquially refers to as "spider instincts," okay, that concept is entirely and 100% a fandom-born headcanon that people created post-ATSV as an excuse to write the guy as a stupid Feral Brown Beast-Man caricature . lord have mercy. it takes. two seconds of research 2 not perpetuate racist malarkey. do better