#⤳ ( I can fight; ooc )

[myuminji]

Doodles of loser behaviour (he gets kisses)

Another loser behaviour (he gets kisses, again)

they bring Roberto a headache on a daily basis

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[finchers-ipad]

the fact that we never got a scene of tyler dancing in the club is criminal. RIP tyler durden, you would have loved early 2000’s club music.

[necrotic-nephilim]

If you want to be bothered. Maybe this for dick and Bruce???

i ALWAYS want to be bothered these are always the highlight of my day tbh you're a delight for letting me just yap <3

Dick. For the canon isn't real square I am Specifically talking about the Tom Taylor Nightwing run. Usually I ignore bad runs but given this one is ongoing (though about to end THANK GOD and get replaced by Dan Watters who i have high hopes for since i adored his Sword of Azrael (2022) run but i digress) so I counted it. Especially since it's so debated if that run is bad or not, for some reason. I'm a 90s Nightwing truther. I love Dick so dearly and tbh recently I've been more enamored with him the more I read his Discowing era, I didn't used to be as big of a Dick stan as I am these days.

Bruce. Honestly where do you even start with Bruce. I want to fist fight him and also patch him up. He got me into comics and superheroes as a whole but I roll my eyes whenever he shows up in a story. He's a bastard and usually not a good father but also complex and should be dissected under a magnifying glass. I love him dearly. He's also just the worst. I think that's why I love him. I'm always a fan of unabashedly Complicated Asshole Bruce who's generally not always the best person, particularly not to the Batfamily and that being the driving force of his relationships with them, especially in shipping.

And for bonus points, Tim. Because know above all else, I'm a Tim Drake kinnie /deg. He's been my number one for a decade and I've yet to uproot him from my brain. He's literally the Worst half the time and I love him for it. And the canon isn't real refers to Tim Drake: Robin because... that sure was a comic. And that's about all I can say about it. Pre-Flashpoint Tim I miss you so dearly. I think it's fun that I want to put him in a blender and drink the juice but also want Nothing Ever to happen to him.

[un-pearable]

torturing myself again (reading popcorn fic)

[willowswriting]

@musicallyiinclined liked this meme for a lyrical starter based on one of my top Spotify wrapped songs. The song that was randomly chosen was i am not who i was by Chance Peña.

"I know it's hard when I'm away. I'll just hope you don't lose faith 'cause I told the truth when I said to you that I'll be back someday."

[adhd-merlin]

a lesson in manners

For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt: "Then go", Arthur/Merlin/Gwen, Established Relationship, Gen. Words: 500

“Well.” Merlin rises from his chair. “If there's nothing else.”

Guinevere turns to him – her disappointment clear in her eyes, even though she tries to keep it from her voice. “You’re leaving?”

“Sorry.” Merlin smiles apologetically. “I promised Gaius I would be back in time for supper.”

Which is fair enough. Merlin’s been dining with Arthur and Guinevere more often than not, lately. They have – perhaps selfishly – grown used to his presence.

“Hardly the first time you've kept him waiting,” Arthur observes. Just to be contrary.

“Precisely. He's starting to ask questions.”

“What sort of questions?” Guinevere asks.

Merlin looks at her with a pointed raise of his eyebrows. “Ones I'd rather not answer.” Guinevere’s mouth curves into a faint smile. She closes her eyes when Merlin leans down to kiss her temple.

“I'll see you tomorrow. Good night.” Merlin nods at Arthur before going to the door.

Guinevere looks at him with a hint of sadness in her eyes – which, as a general rule, Arthur finds unacceptable. Guinevere should never look sad. Not in his presence. Not if he can help it.

“Merlin?” Arthur calls. Merlin stops, his hand on the handle. “Is that the way to take leave of your king?”

Merlin looks puzzled. “I'm sorry. Did I forget to bow?” he asks, and he does so, with a jester-like flourish.

Arthur rolls his eyes. “Yes. Not that it matters. Come here.”

“Arthur…” Merlin protests, weakly, but he obeys his beckoning.

“Guinevere got a kiss. I was just wondering at the disparity of treatment,” Arthur explains – not because he cares, but just to keep Merlin there a little longer.

Merlin clicks his tongue. “She's nicer than you.”

Arthur just looks at him.

Merlin sighs, theatrically, and Guinevere giggles.

Good.

When Merlin bends down – no doubt to give Arthur a quick peck on the lips – Arthur grabs his ridiculous neckerchief and pulls. Merlin gasps, grasping one of Arthur’s arms as he tips over, and slamming his knee next to Arthur’s thigh to avoid smashing his face against the back of his chair.

“Arthur— ” The rest of his objection is rudely interrupted by Arthur’s mouth.

Arthur kisses Merlin until he’s breathless – maybe from the kiss, maybe from the cloth that’s pulled tight around his neck. Arthur doesn’t loosen his grasp. He knows Merlin likes it. 

When Arthur breaks their kiss, Merlin blinks at him vacantly. He moves his lips as if to shape a word, but seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say.

Then, he remembers. “Gaius is waiting,” he mumbles – eyes fixed on Arthur's mouth.

Arthur lets go of Merlin’s neckerchief and pats his chest. “Then go,” he says, amiably.

Merlin gets to his feet – a bit shakily. His ears are red. He walks to the door again, turns as if to say something, then frowns and closes his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaves.

Guinevere starts laughing.

Good.

“That was mean,” she says. 

Arthur takes her hand and kisses it. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it up to him.”

[kingisshark]

((ooc)) kind of?

Constantine is playing poker with demons and they're winning despite him cheating at every turn, he excuses himself and steps out to make a call

demons hear loud footsteps and boss music

[gftimelordstwin]

Hey, hi! I like you. Specifically, I like that shiny thing on your hat! Wanna trade?

@magpie-prime

"Hah! Appreciate the offer, sweetheart, but I’ll have to pass on that one."

*Stan reached up, almost instinctively, to cover the golden oyster pin on his beanie. No way he was giving that up—especially not when it was a gift from Dipper. The only thing he’d trade this for was the life of someone in his family, and even then, it depended on who in his family.*

[ford-between-dimensions]

STUPID SAUCE TIME!!

[proceeds to squirt an entire bottle of stupid sauce on him]

—⭐️ry

……

WhazzI…….wha was I talkinging about?

[misteria247]

I believe with my whole ass heart that Pacifica would absolutely have beef with Gideon Gleeful. Like they're both little shits and I can just see them glaring at each other across a room with feral cat energy ready to fist fight in a Denny's parking lot at 3AM.

There can be only one kind of mindset.

[shakingparadigm]

In a modern au I think the wagyein would be like one of those gaint ass crocodiles that Ivan gets away with keeping because its technically a service animal. As long as its on a leash its all good and not a threat to the public!!

Ivan being rewarded with a more expensive and unique kind pet like a whole fucking crocodile honestly seems pretty in line for him 😭 especially since it adds a new "chic" flair to his photoshoots and his general aesthetic. Imagine Ivan's new photoshoot drops and he's in a suit posing with a fucking crocodile. Insane.

I really like the imagery of this large, scaly and dangerous looking reptile being tamed as Ivan's pet, something that could help boost his image and push that luxurious, enigmatic vibe. You know, like how stereotypical evil lairs have sharks or other rare and dangerous animals guarding the entrance or simply acting as accessory. That kind of vibe. I also like the imagery of this sharp creature being forced into submission and captivity. Forced to become a good, obedient pet, holding in its urges and keeping its teeth hidden. A being taken from the ruthless, grimy darkness, cleaned and maintained to perfection, forced to perform for the cameras. Ivan can empathize, he knows what it's like.

"Technically a service animal" is fucking hysterical. Ivan going Hello, sir! Please excuse my emotional support 12ft crocodile. Don't worry, he's very well-behaved.

I actually think Ivan would get along very well with his hypothetical crocodile. Just like the wagyein, he'd feel connected to it in a very personal way. Also just like the wagyein I think Ivan would be the only person it would never harm. In my head I have the mental image of Ivan petting and cuddling it as if it were a puppy.

[pixl-place]

i’d honestly be really interested to see why (if they do) people would ship kevin/thea bc honestly to me it seems so out of character. the whole trajectory of kevin dating her and his kid going to the nest honestly feels like a big reason why some of the fandom still consider him a coward and a wet blanket. like the beginning of tkm he’s working so hard to become his own person and distance himself from that place and then yet he’s supposed to go right back ?? it doesn’t make sense. even kevin/allison or kevin/renee would make more sense if we’re talking straight ships because they would both recognize the other’s fight to become a new and better person and fight the trauma that tries to drag them down. literally kevin could end up with almost anyone else and it would work. it also would’ve been interesting to see thea as an example of what happens when you leave the nest and follow the exact path tetsuji laid out but that kinda invalidates itself by just making her “kevin’s gf” but also not really explaining their relationship in a way that makes sense so her character just becomes less meaningful overall anyways hashtag let kevin have relationships not tied to his trauma and let him heal 2024

[electricea]

i definitely see the irony of writing a character from a game where a big chunk of it is action and heists and fighting but i've just always found fighting threads to be awkward and something i only really like to do with the right person and carefully planned out. i'm always a bit worried about getting into an argument with someone over whose character should win or something dumb like that, lol.

[spearofthetenno]

When does a man become a monster?

OOC: ((For one's knowledge, this is set running alongside the fight between 3000 and Amir. Unfortunately for the Scaldra involved, Venahn is no longer in the mindset for mercy and nor does anyone know where they are.)) Second OOC: ((Yes I am an EPIC: The Musical Fan how could you tell?))

TW: Canon typical violence, It's Warframe friends.

The radio was still screaming static as Scaldra Squadron Thunder Hammer pushed through on with their patrol. The captain had been very clear-extremely clear in fact-that they were to keep this patrol up. To have one another's backs and keep together. But with their radio seemingly busted they couldn't do either. It was either that or the sheer concentration of techrot in the area was now wreaking havoc on their gear.

What they definitely couldn't have known is that having three banshees in a generally close area causes any form of communication within a fifty-mile radius to seemingly just cease working. And considering the number of Drifters now gathered for a major throwdown...that was perhaps the least surprising thing of the day.

The streets, once covered in thick snow, now ran red with blood and green with efevon. Ran like rivers, some intermingling and pooling into puddles of brown, whereas others cut through the white and the grey with their own simple streams. Burning APCs and shattered tanks lit up the roads, acting akin to beacons and pyres. Lighting the road for all those who followed their foolish forebearers into now what seemed like the mouth of hell.

Scout teams had been sent out hours ago, Viktor had wanted to make the most of this opportunity and see if there other ways to bring it all down. To break the Hex from within, kill the monster in it's very own lair. of course, he has his own stake in this mess. Of course, all those had now gone silent. And now it was obvious what had befallen them. Death, death and slaughter on such a scale that seemed industrious.

They could see the Mall now, a relatively inconspicuous building all things considered. If one didn’t know the contents within, one could have easily walked past it and not known a damn thing. They stopped in a nearby alleyway as they tried for sol-knew how manyth time to fix their radios again. Trying to cut through the rabid static.

That's when they saw it, a figure that cut a spartan's silhouette through the burning night. It's form was golden sword steel, streaked with dark chrome and maroon-red that seemed to glimmer in the fire light to its back. The crest that ran the back of its head cast the form of those noble heroes of old but it looked uncanny. Human yet not quite. It was a devil without question, terrifying as it clutched a spear that stood taller than most men in one hand and a great round shield in the other. Blood was dripping off its form, not entirely drenched but that maybe because some of it had long since dried upon its form. It hadn't seemed to notice them just yet. Seemingly it was on some sort of patrol, judging from the multiple footsteps trails it had likely left in the snow.

The squadron were veterans, they had at the very least read the mission reports. Of the Hex and how they ripped through squadrons like they were nothing. Some had even been witnesses, watched as the Hex performed superhuman feats on the regular.

But Protoframes are different from a warframe. Entrati had to cut the thin line between human and sheer infested killing machine that Ballas had created. A human body could only be pushed so far before catastrophic damage occurred; such damage that would most certainly render them useless if not outright killing then. Press the Helminth Strain too far and you'd have a monster with no ability to control it, the first generations of Ballas's creations had proven that in laboratories slick with blood.

Warframes had no such considerations. And neither did their tenno with their void devilry beaten into their bones. Ballas, for all his horrid nature, had perfected his Magnum Opus. The Warframes were war incarnate themselves with very little to stop them.

They didn't even have the chance to scream before the devil was upon them like a wolf upon prey. It was upon them with what seemed to be a clap of thunder that rang in their ears and dazed their sensors. The team lead who had been at the front of the squadron raised his voice to yell out an order but was nearly instantly silenced as Styanax's spear pierced through his throat and punched out the back of his skull.

The Jaeger to his right raised his rifle in retaliation, trigger finger at the ready but he never stood a chance. The devil lunged forwards in less than a heartbeat and rammed the edge of its shield directly into his chest. His armour and ribs shattered like cheap glass as he was flung into the closest building with a sickening snap.

The Flayer raised his sickles but it was futile. Styanax moved with such grace that he may as well have cut at water. It rammed the butt of its spear into and then through his stomach. He didn't even get the chance to gasp in pain before the devil withdrew his spear and twirled the spear into a reverse grip and drove it directly into his chest and ended his suffering before it even began.

The Barbican raised his shield to shelter himself as he dared to step forward to challenge this devil at it's own game. Styanax looked at him with only the groan of biotech gone too far before it drew it's shield arm back and flung its shield at him with the force of a tank round. And Tharros hit with the force of something more then just a tank as it sheered through his shield and directly into him-cutting the upper portion of his chest from the rest of his body.

Tharros returned just as quickly as the RATATATA of AX-52’s rattled against the sword steel skin of this devil. Someone was desperately yelling, desperately hoping that some god send thing would come and save them.

The only reply they would get was death as the Devil launched his spear through the cry and into them. The rest of them ducked, trying to scatter as the body was pinned against the brick wall behind them. The devil closed the distance in the time it took to blink, sending the two Scaldra closest to it flying into a lamp post and a wrecked car with a gnarly crunch. Two more Scaldra died without so much as a whimper as spear tip met flesh.

Perhaps the last man alive, a humble jaeger, was a coward. Or perhaps he was simply the wisest of his squad and saw the writing on the wall. Or perhaps he was simply experiencing shell shock from the sudden and unexpected violent shock of watching most of his team die in front of him.

More likely, it was a combination of all three at once. For no place in that oh so gloried Hall of Heroes was worth this horror. To be on the receiving end of a Warframe with a fully realised Tenno pilot with absolutely nothing to lose.

The only thing that could truly stand up against a Warframe and a Tenno in an equal fight was perhaps a Sentient with their supreme fire power or maybe a Dax warrior with an unholy amount of Kuva in their veins. Both made and forged for the fires of war, purely for battle and nothing else. And that was a big if, especially with Warframes that could shatter a meteor with a punch or freeze time at their own pleasure or move faster then lightning. Had they not ended the Old War with the Sentients? Did they not have piles of Orokin bodies and those who would serve those golden lords in their kill tallies?

A Scaldra, no matter how trained or experienced, could never hold a match to that kind of skill or mastery. They were mortal men and women with only a lifetime to spare.

But it was not a Warframe that killed the last Scaldra Jaeger. No. No it was scruffy older man probably no older then 35, dressed in armour that the Jaeger couldn’t recognise but had itch that it was familiar somehow. The thing that controlled that spear wielding devil was not a creature straight out of myth or perhaps the font of hell. Instead it was a man with dark hair partially tied back, scruffy stubble and claw scar that ran down his right eye.

He grabbed him, pinning the man against the wall with the sheer force of his charge. Cold steel pressed against the Scaldra’s throat but not yet cut. Somewhere vaguely, the Scaldra saw that the man’s right hand was some kind of prosthetic-designed akin to bone but hard as steel. No. Harder than even that.

“Mercy!” The Jaeger begged. Desperately.

The man looked him in the eye, and instead of void light or hellfire as some would have had them believed, the eyes that stared back were sol gold. Maybe, on any day other than this day, he would followed the man’s request. Let the man go and let him run.

But not this day. Not this night filled with bloodshed and betrayal of such a magnitude that made this man. The Drifter who controlled Styanax, who lost his leg to Ballas and then his arm to Duviri. The seemingly sole shield of the innocents of this place.

The death came quickly and Styanax left just as quickly as it had came.