#Can't get this out of my head

[nillamoonstar]

[jamtartandsunshine]

It starts small, inconsequential really. But Roy, he knows the signs, this isn't his first rodeo, as Ted would say. That thought makes him curse beneath his breath. Sounds like something fucking Lasso would say. It makes Roy's blood boil a little. He hates that the fucking cowboy coach has gotten into his head. But the point is, Roy notices. It's small but its there. Roy notices the way Jamie tips back the protein shaker, as he stands in the locker room laughing with the boys, but the liquid inside doesn't actually seem to go down. He notices the way Jamie's hands sometimes tremble as he picks up his water bottle in the gym. Having pushed himself harder then any of the rest of them. He notices the way Jamie jots down notes in a little pocket notebook at lunch. Roy doesn't see what's in it, but he'd bet his championship trophy its that stats of whatever Jamie's eating at lunch. Its not new. Everyone has macros to track, protein goals to reach. Carefully controlled carb intakes, but there's a darkness to Jamie's eyes as he scribbles hastily in his little notebook. Roy knows that look, and a part of him wants to look away, pretend he didn't see it, pretend he doesn't know the signs for what they are. He looks around the room, everyone is eating and laughing, they don't see what Roy is seeing. Most of them barely even spare Jamie a glance. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck it. It has to be Roy, it can't be anyone fucking else.

[bibibifemme]

thinking of messy makeout with my best friend. my hands on her boobs and hers on my ass. groping pinching smacking each other freely and lovingly. sucking on her tongue to make her drooly feeling her moans in my mouth and having her spit all over my face

[skunkboi04]

DC x RE2

With the scent of brimstone and rot in the air, Red Robin regrets his decision to forgo a full face mask in his latest costume redesign. His rebreather might be enough to make the air completely breathable, but the smells—and, God, the taste—still come through, even up on the rooftops.

“Come in, Red Robin. Requesting situation report.”

“Multiple fires have broken out across the city, and I’m not sure the people wandering the streets are even still… people.” 

“What makes you say that, Red?” 

Adjusting the zoom in his mask lenses, Red Robin focuses on a group of shambling figures in the street. Among them, a few notable features include several missing limbs, yellowed, rotting skin, and torn, bloody clothing. Some were clearly turned more recently, while others seem to have been decaying for a while.

Sighing, Red Robin replies, “Some of these injuries, they just aren’t survivable. I mean, the amount of blood loss alone, and without any signs of medical care…” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t help that they’re aggressive, violent. I’ve seen them tear stray cats to shreds, O. Even if paramedics were brought in, it wouldn’t be safe for them. They’d be completely overwhelmed—”

“Hold that thought, Red, I’m getting severe interference over comms.”

“Hmm, might be the fires.” A non-committal hum comes through the device in Red Robin’s ear. “The fire and smoke is causing some pretty heavy pollution, and on satellite comms, that’s no good.” 

“Affirmative. Didn’t realize it was that bad over there, I’ll send backup when I can. Do you have any other method of communication with you?”

Patting his pockets, the man on the rooftop sighs, “Just my Titans communicator. I can set it to the Watchtower channel, but it doesn’t have a direct line to you or the other Bats.” 

“Alright. Use your communicator to send regular updates. I think Flash is on Watch Duty tonight, so I’ll have him run interference between us. This might become a Justice League-level threat regardless, if things are as bad as you say they are.”

“Possibly, but it seems to be contained to just Raccoon City.” Fiddling with the buttons on his communicator, the man in the mask continues, “I’m doing a check in with the Watchtower now to confirm the link is secure. I’ll be going dark momentarily, hold please.”

“Red Robin, don’t you put me on hold—”

Turning off his comm unit, Red Robin pulls the Titans communicator out and flips the switch on the side, connecting it to the Watchtower server. Heh, haven’t needed to use this channel in a while. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, the vigilante activated the communicator.

“Come in, Watchtower. This is Red Robin, requesting mission overwatch.” 

A hiss of static, then, “Red Robin, this is Watchtower. Please specify, what overwatch do you need?” 

“I need you to run information between Oracle and I, as well as to log regular updates on my end. I’m in a sat-dead zone, so normal long-distance comms aren’t working.” A loud screech rings out, a dead-ringer for the noise the Batmobile makes when Batgirl forgets to brake in time. Someone is driving. Looking closer, Red Robin lets out a curse and pulls out his grapple. 

No, no one is driving, someone is crashing.

[typhoonquixol]

I cannot get this out of my head

So this is from X-factor v4 issue 5 and I can't stop thinking about this kid. This is the only appearence he has as far as i know and his powers are that he gets different abilities based on the music he listens to. Any. Music.

First off how does it differentiate? Like does he get flight from pop, super strength from country, pyrokinesis from heavy metal?

That was my first thought. My second was, poor legion.

Imagine having to suffer through DID on a scale of thousands with each having thei own power and then there's just this kid who can switch the playlist on his phone and get the same result. Like man.

He's also just a great example of the fact that not every powerfull mutant is relevnt to the story or drafted. He just has an insane power and thats it.

Thanks for reading this rant, have a choclate bar.

[ticklingtimetickstotest]

Straight up banger!!

[fairybreadsquire]

Do you remember when we were eleven? Let's go back to that.

---

a tribute to the magnificent Running on Air by @tinyhistory

[deathandthesoul]

Harsh, brutal vocals straight from the pits of hell ✅ Dark, otherworldly backing like a nightmare ✅ Fun and energetic killer beat ✅

[thesassypadawan]

Hayden with a man bun...enough said. 🫠

[bibibifemme]

OMFGGGG there was this guy on the bus that made me 😵‍💫🥵 he was *at least* a head taller than me and HIS VOICE UGHHHHH 🥴🥴🤤 his hair looked so soft and we bumped hands so i KNOW his skin's so fkn soft

and and and !!! he had this amaaaaazing neck tattoo that had me *drooling* thinking of seeing it while he fucking pounds into me AHHHHH FUUUUUCK 🥵🥴🥴🤤

[may--all-your--bacon--burn]

"it's freeing isn't it? starting over to forget: the expectation placed upon me, when I invented who I should be"

[izzyspussy]

anyway so, after fang's description of the crew beating ed to death and it not being the cannonball that did it and saying "a lot of crotch stuff" um

two of 'em holding izzy up so he can deliver one singular but heartfelt kick between ed's legs alskfjks

[soulmvtes]

AND YOUVE DONE IT IN 2022 AFTER IVE DONE IT CHELSEA COME ON NOW

[daenysx]

i'm seeing visions am i bad, or mad, or wise? what if- there's something about you that now i can't remember, it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

[moonjellymermaid]

Can't stop thinking about :

Knightmare continuing the joust winning the top spot and when all eyes are on him revealing himself to dream and his entire summer court as dreams "evil" older Twin, Nightmare the Fae Winter King, he smirks at all the shocked and horrified expressions of the summer court their fear of him and his power immaculate and as dreams yells for all to try and capture him Knightmare races on his horse towards you a charming smirk on his face as he offers you his hand and a quick offer to join HIS Winter court instead were a treasure like us could be proudly and properly appreciated, taking his hand as he pulls you onto his horse and rides off through the forest towards his domain leaving dreams remaining guards in the dust.

The possibility of what is gonna happen next are endless, of to be a pretty butterfly/moth girl admired by big scary fae skeletons

knightmare.......... (⸝⸝๑ ̫ ๑⸝⸝⸝)

The air was hot, and heavy. It always was, in the Summer Court, where the inescapable sun remained high in the sky for eternity. In this particular moment, however... the heaviness in the atmosphere was not caused entirely by heat.

The new knight, the stranger, had won yet another joust. Not only that, he had won a golden rose; the coveted prize for unseating five knights in a row. His opponent was still limping back to the competitor’s tent, their wings low in shame - and the stranger remained tall on his steed, alone in the centre of the ring. The raised stands surrounding the jousting arena had fallen deafeningly silent... he looked like a demon, horned helmet branching behind him, black ichor still leaking from between the heavy segments of his midnight armour.

The knight he had unhorsed was one of Dream’s favoured guards. Nobody knew what to do. Cheer? Boo? He held the rose he had just been presented with as if someone had handed him a dead bird; he seemed to observe it with a peculiar and detached sort of disinterest. 

Amongst the dozens of rainbow-clad fae surrounding him, he appeared a single black spider in field of butterflies.

The fae who had presented him the rose hurried out of view, ducking back under the fabric of the stands. The stranger’s horse had attempted to bite her, and she had only just moved away in time. You would’ve run, too, if you were her.

“... Your prize, visitor.” Dream, naturally seated under the shade at the head of the tourney, spoke with his classic eloquence. And you couldn’t deny you admired his ability to speak so loudly, and with such friendliness, as if nothing was wrong. But you knew him well enough to know that his teeth were gritted. He looked down at the knight with an unreadable expression, golden circlet winking in the light. “Well earned.”

You didn’t have the luxury of sitting further back, in the top of the stands, sheltered from sunlight. You were sat on one of the far wings - to the very front, with the rest of the common fae. 

... You used to be at the back. But you couldn’t think about that anymore. Ever since you had lost your humanity and grown wings, Dream’s eyelights had wandered to newer, more interesting people. You were relegated to the long and ever-growing list of Dream’s “old favourites”, the fae who had committed the ultimate sin of becoming boring. 

You weren’t even one of the preferred old favourites. You would be surprised if Dream even recalled your name. You sat at the front now, far from him.

... So when the knight ignored Dream, and turned his great horse in your direction, even though the stands provided a moderate height advantage you felt fear seize every muscle.

You had suspected, from the dramatic moment this terrifying stranger arrived, that he had been stealing glances at you. Little tilts of his helmet - flashes of an eye underneath the metal. You had done your best to talk yourself out of it, why would he care about you? He was clearly here to mock the King. You were seeing things, or he was looking past you to other, more beautiful fae.

The horse was more beast than steed. It was frothing and biting at its bit, muscles straining beneath its armour, midnight hide rippling with barely restrained energy; it stood at least three hands above every other horse at the tournament, wild eyes blank like parchment. How the knight stayed so easily seated upon the monster was a mystery - but a loud testament to his own strength. Anyone who could tame and ride such a thing must be worth his salt. 

You watched, in horror, as the beast drew closer. Each hoofbeat struck like thunder into the sand; you couldn’t help but feel a childish fear that the approaching steed might lunge forward and eat you. The fae around you were murmuring, wings were fluttering, seats creaked as tens of bodies attempted to lean away without committing the impropriety of leaving their place.

The horse pulled up alongside the stand. Its wild eyes, that had so hungrily observed the competition (and even the rose-bearer), didn’t so much as glance at you. It was like you weren’t even there.

The knight’s gauntlet-clad hand extended. The golden rose, tilted toward you. It all but glowed in the sun reflecting off its crafted petals; water-like ripples of light cast from it across his fine dark armour. Within his midnight hand, it only seemed to shine brighter. 

You looked down at him. From the gap in his helmet, could see a single eye staring back at you, the brightest azure you had ever seen. He spoke - his voice was far softer now. Not at all like the proud, booming tones of when he had declared himself a contender for the joust. 

“might this simple knight be so bold...” he murmured, “as to ask for your favour?”

It took a moment for you to speak. Your own voice was choked, barely audible to anyone but him. 

“Y-you wish to exchange your golden rose... for my favour in the rest of the joust?”

You could hear his smile through the metal. “indeed.”

Your brow furrowed. “That hardly seems like a fair exchange for you, lord.”

“any fool with coin could have a hundred golden roses.” His eye sharpened. “but the favour of the fairest creature in attendance? alas, there is only one of those. a metal trinket, in exchange for something truly priceless.”

The heat in your cheeks was undeniable. He extended his hand a fraction further; you sat forward in your seat and extended yours in turn. As he placed the delicate rose into your awaiting palm, you felt the cold metal of his claws trace gently over the back of your knuckles.

He settled back into his saddle, retaking his reigns.

“... I-I...” You swallowed, gently nodding your head to him, slightly raising your voice. “Good fortune to you, Lord.”

The knight lifted the reins. The horse shook, making a sound like a great bonfire, hooves beginning to paw at the ground once again. 

... He bowed his helmeted head. The horse turned, tail whipping, and moved back toward the centre of the joust range.

You froze in your seat, hands clasped around the rose. Everyone noticed that. Whispers immediately began to ripple across the crowd; you quickly darted your eyes away from the head of the seating, where Dream sat, hair prickling as you desperately avoided the overpowering urge to look to the Summer King for his reaction.

The mysterious knight had not called Dream “King”. Not once. And despite having every opportunity, for the duration of the tourney he had not bowed to him.

... But before the entire court, he had just bowed to you.