#and they accepted…and lost

[pixelatedraindrops]

Shinigami: Kyaha I win~✨

Makoto: …

Yuma: Ow…

Never accept a challenge from the ghost of a death god to doing a candy eating contest. It’s Halloween, she’ll win every time 👻🍭

Happy Spooky Day Everyone! 🎃

Hope you got a nice haul tonight~ But don’t eat too much candy, or you could get a stomachache!

[canisalbus]

✦ Freshly ordained ✦

[campcomputers]

[lemonsharkgirlfriend]

so rhaenyra starts s3 with a god complex, believing herself to be the prince that was promised from aegon the conqueror's dream... but hugh and ulf will betray her, mysaria will misunderstand her, coryls will undermine her, bartimos will underestimate her, daemon will abandon her, her people will turn against her and burn her castle and kill her dragon. and when everyone who accepted rhaenyra as queen rejects her, the only person left to love rhaenyra will be alicent, who never loved rhaenyra as queen but rhaenyra as a person ("she was the vision that sustained him [...] it was his love for her that kept him resolute in his choice of heir."). alicent, who abandoned her gods and duty to go to rhaenyra on dragonstone and appeal to the person beneath the crown ("i cast myself on the mercy of a friend who once loved me."). alicent, who's made a god of rhaenyra, not as queen, but as the girl she read with beneath the godswood ("come with me.").

[iliothermia]

Shop update

[artiststarme]

One day the kids wake up and they can’t find Steve. They search his house, the school track, the basketball courts, anywhere they can think of where they might find him and he’s nowhere to be found. When they go to Robin’s house, she’s missing too. Her parents haven’t seen her since she disgraced their family by proclaiming herself to be a lesbian.

Even Eddie hasn’t seen either of them and that’s particularly worrying since the three of them are always together.

Both Steve and Robin come back two weeks later with sunburns and matching tattoos on their wrists. They had been at one of the Harrington vacation homes in Florida getting drunk, checking out girls, and getting tattoos. It’s also when Steve realized he was interested in Eddie and plants a smooch on him as soon as he gets back to see Eddie checking out his ass.

[technically-human]

The fastest runner

[moderndaypandora]

i recognize that simon and edwin meeting and parting in hell is narratively very good and provides closure for all. but imagine if simon had agreed to try and escape with edwin. and charles doesn't have time to really question it, because anybody who likes edwin is aces in his book and it's hell, they need to leave. (edwin, out of courtesy to their third companion, puts his plan to confess on hold until they've escaped.)

suddenly the edwin harem of "supernatural boys who all hate each other but are attracted to that negative rizz" gains another member, and at some point edwin is going to have to mention that simon was the boy who sacrificed him to hell.

the chaos. crystal's bitchy commentary. charles going from friendly smiling to clutching his cricket bat. niko's whispering "200k slow burn schoolboy rivals to lovers" with heart eyes. it'd be chef's kiss good. edwin fleeing to his books and praying that nobody, but especially not the cat king, finds him because there has been SO MUCH emotion already. hysterical.

[tariah23]

It’s just sad that the existence of Black people will always be deemed “controversial,” and pandering. Like, we can’t ever just simply exist anywhere without being harassed and ridiculed for being alive and included. There always has to be some big conversation about why are we even part of a thing in the first place and the “but what about the ACCURACY-“ crowd screaming at the top of their lungs for air.

And so many Black people are tired. Most of us have become desensitized to such vile because we literally have to in order to survive and move on.

The whole recent bullshit with Yasuke has actually been going on for quite a while now actually. At least on and off. Whenever he’s brought up, the comment section on any post and website regarding his existence and stature as a samurai is usually heavily debated and ridiculed. This is just another occurrence of this.

Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, the actress who plays Juliet in the UK play, only got harassed because of of course, being a Black woman, and because of her White co-star, Tom Holland, being part of the production. No one wouldn’t have even known about the play if it weren’t for him playing Romeo. He’s never publicly came out to use his voice and defend her despite most of the people harassing her being his fans and just white people in general. Nbs and unfortunately, Black men and pick-me’s have been also joining in on the harassment because the hatred of Black women is so potent. And the harassment of Halle Bailey for playing The Little Mermaid…….. Like mosquitoes to a fucking lamp. People will jump at any opportunity to publicly shame Black women for literally no reason. It’s fucking disgusting and we can’t really count on anyone to really defend us outside of other Black women and the lgbt community most of the time. It’s so fucked up, bro.

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena?”

“What are you doing here?” Lena said, on the other side of the phone line.

Kara was already moving, lunging for the window, shedding her civilian clothes so fast she blurred into a streak of red and blue, the phone still mid-fall from where her hand had held it to her ear to the osprey cushion. She wasn’t thinking when she rattled windows with her passage. Less than a second later, the air snapped taught around her and burst with the cracking fury of a sonic boom as she bolted across the city in a ballistic arc that took her from her apartment to the upper floor penthouse office at L-Corp.

She was still too slow.

Lena was calling her name, her own phone flying from her hand into space as two men manhandled her over the railing into open air, almost six hundred feet up. Kara watched it happen in agonizing, hateful detail. She could hear every thudding panicked contraction of Lena’s heart even as she could count ever stitch in the side-seam of her dress.

Faster. Faster faster faster faster.

Any faster and she’d ignite the atmosphere around here.

Lena was perpetually falling, reaching up in a futile attempt to grasp the sky. Those thumping heartbeats came slow to Kara’s ears as she focused herself, time around her slowing to match her speed.

She has to do this perfectly. Hit Lena too fast and she’d kill her. Lena’s screamed stretched into a shrill endless peel as she fell, raw terror contorting her features.

Kara dove, slowing as she reached those last few millimeters of distance, forcing herself to match Lena’s speed, dipping under her so that the bewildered woman dropped into her arms and they further slowed together, Kara coming to a stop midair, half way down the length of her fall. Kara bundled Lena into her arms even as Lena clutched her in desperate fear, grasping and clutching at her in desperate fear. A wail of agonized terror exploded from Lena’s lips against Kara’s throat, followed by a taut cry of anguished relief.

“I have you,” Lena murmured. “You’re okay, I have you.”

Lena was shaking.

“They th-threw me off the balcony!”

They.

They.

Kara rose, cradling a treasure in her arms. They should have known better, these two thugs, these goons. To show her contempt, she blew them off their feet with a gust of air from her lungs. Tenderly, she placed Lena on her bare feet -her shoes had gone flying when she was tossed- and turned to her attackers.

One pulled a gun, the other ran. She crushed the crude little human weapon, so infuriatingly primitive and barbaric, almost forgetting not to pulp the wielder’s hand. As the other ran, she hooked her fingers in his collar and yanked, pulling him right back and over the railing. His scream satisfied something hateful within her and she wanted to stop herself from seizing his ankle, but she didn’t. The weight of the crest on her chest was too much to bear it.

She did let him dangle though, begging her for mercy.

Kara jabbed the comms in her ear and barked orders to the DEO agent that answered her. It wasn’t ten minutes later that half a dozen agents, led by Alex herself, were dragging the two men out of Lena’a office.

Lena herself was standing on the balcony still, shivering in the late night chill. Kara pointedly ignore the way Alex stared at them both as Kara unclasped her cape from her shoulders and threw the heavy cloth around Lena, bundling her up in it.

Oh Rao, her poor feet on the concrete.

Kara didn’t think. She picked Lena up again and carried her inside. Lena didn’t protest or even speak, as delicate as a precious baby bird in Kara’s arms.

“We can… we can deal with statements later,” said Alex. “I’ll step out.”

They were alone.

Lena just stared for a moment, as Kara opened the drawer in the coffee table and took out the fleece blanket that Lena kept there for naps or those frequent nights when she just didn’t go home, unable or unwilling to abandon her work for such pedestrian things as sleep, or her own health. Kara spread it across her, covering her feet. She just didn’t want her to be cold.

Kneeling beside the couch, Kara stroked a loose lock of wind-ruffled hair back from Lena’s eyes, forgetting herself, forgetting that she was the Super and not the Girl, right now. She couldn’t help it. The Super was stoic, unruffled, full of bravado. The Girl wanted to fucking cry and scream in agony and blessed release.

She was okay. Kara made it. Lena was okay.

Lena was staring at her.

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

The way she said it, it almost wasn’t a question. It sounded flat, half an accusation.

“I was with Kara Danvers,” Kara was about to say, but the answer died on her lips, the lie too bitter to cross her tongue.

She was so sick of lying, and the reasons why she lied all seemed so… hollow, here, now, and Lena wasn’t stupid. It was halfway there, Kara realized. She could see it in Lena’s bewildered, quivering expression. The thought was there, half formed, and once the suspicion was formed, it was only a matter of time. Their friendship was built on pillars of sand and the tide was rolling in right now.

“It’s me, Lena,” Kara whispered.

Lena’s eyes widened, as her nostrils briefly flared. Lena did not ask her to clarify, or explain. Her penetrating gaze merely searched, drinking in the details of Kara’s face in a way that made her feel both seen in a warm and comforting way and horribly exposed, the chill wind from the balcony door at her back. Yet the gaze was open, permissive. Kara noticed that one of her eyes was a little more blue than the other.

Rao, Lena was so pretty. She was beautiful, yes, in the austere almost untouchable way of a young powerful woman who weaponizes her looks, but that part of her was gone now, replaced by something open and vulnerable and soft, and usually reserved for Kara, not Supergirl.

Kara sat down in front of her, crossing her legs. She wanted to reach out and sooth the trembling she saw, her hand twitching of its own accord. Lena pulled the red fabric of her cape up and tucked it under her chin, making herself small.

“It’s you.”

“Yeah.”

“You caught me.”

“I always will.”

Lena closed her eyes. “I’m tired of falling. God I’m so tired of it, I just want him to leave me alone.”

Anger flashes in Kara’s chest, sending a jolt of heat up her spine as the red-sun fire burned within her, begging for release. She kept her eyes tightly shut.

A soft cry opened them again. Lena was crying silently in the manner of one used to hiding it, her chest hitching as she held it back.

“If it weren’t for you I’d be dead, Kara.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Something tightened inside her, clutching so hard she could barely breathe. Watching Lena fall had been like… like looking over her shoulder and seeing the green flash. Kara had pinched her eyes shut and turned away, not watching the blast, screaming in agony when the blast wave tossed her pod, too afraid to watch her world die, unable to escape it. Sometimes that feeling would wash over her and tear her from the embrace of a dreamless sleep and she’d scream.

A soft, cool hand brushed her cheek. Lena reached out from the blanket and pushed away the errant tear. Kara couldn’t help herself, and returned the gesture. Lena’s skin was so delightfully soft, and whenever Kara touched her, felt her, it gave air to something like hot coals in her belly, and they’d threaten to become an unbound flame.

Something was happening here and she wasn’t sure what it was, but it was important. Kara had a sudden sense that this moment was a real one, an important one, and that she had just started bumbling through a choice that needed her full attention.

Lena was watching her, her soft intelligent eyes darting. Her breathing had calmed but she was agitated, heartbeat too fast, heat bloom crawling across her skin as her face flushed. A deep, powerful part of Kara woke up at the sight of it, something that she would normally have disdained had she remained on Krypton, a part of her that she might even have hated.

Her hand was still resting gently on Lena’s cheek. Lena met her gaze and shifted slightly, pressing a touch harder against Kara’s palm. It was an acknowledgement. It felt permissive, inviting. Lena tilted her expressions slightly and looked at Kara through her lashes.

She was scared, Kara realized. Scared but perhaps hopeful. Things began to swirl in her head. She could drown in the heady scent of an office full of flowers.

“You just keep saving me,” Lena said.

Kara rose to her knees so she could lean in, arching over her. This need, this impulse, gripped it like a firm hand on the back of her neck. It felt so wrong, so human, so Terran, but she didn’t care. For the first time she felt like doing this because she wanted it, not to make herself feel human or soothe some itch.

She hesitated every moment but Lena’s gaze remained fixed, a faint smile curling her lips as Kara drew closer, sliding an arm under her shoulders, very carefully pulling her up.

“I thought you were hopeless after the thing with the flowers,” Lena whispered. “Or maybe just regrettably straight.”

Kara wanted this to be right. She nuzzled her nose against Lena’s, one last tiny little request, and murmured, “is this okay?”

In response, Lena closed the gap and their lips met. Kara hadn’t felt like this since the first time she stepped off the ground into the open air. This was better than flying. Lena’s kiss was just so her, at once brash and hesitant, a question phrased as a declaration.

Before long Kara was holding her.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t.”

Lena released herself; there was no other way to describe it. It was like their past hugs but more, Lena embracing Kara as though she’d like to be absorbed by her.

“I know.”

In the morning she’d pay Lex a visit. She’d talk to Alex and J’onn, make it clear that if the DEO wanted a Kryptonian on speed dial, it was time to make her priorities their priorities, and the first thing she was going to do was tear Cadmus out of their hiding places by the root.

It wouldn’t be enough to just hobble their operations, she wanted them gone. Supergirl would work in tandem with the Kara Danvers until Lex Luthor had no friends, no allies, no resources. Even the prison guard who smuggled him his caviar would learn that any largesse towards his prisoner would summon a furious Kryptonian.

She would call in every favor, seek every ally, use every resource.

Right now none of that mattered. Lena was safe, and she was in Kara’s arms.

[strqyr]

and to make it four, it's adam's turn + the whole team neatly in one pic, with few edits here and there ✌

[faunandfloraas]

🐺+🐶+🥟

[s0fter-sin]

i need ghoap frantically making out against a door finally taking the leap on their feelings. need ghost grinding against soap, expecting to find him just as hard as him, only to feel nothing

and in all his wisdom and experience, he concludes soap was tortured and never told him

he’s trying to think of a delicate way to say he understands, that he’s been through it and it doesn’t change anything about how he feels (and who the fuck touched him so he can hunt them down and rend them limb from limb)

meanwhile trans!soap’s just trying to find the best angle to grind his cunt on ghost’s thigh

just it never even entering ghost’s head bc he’s never known a trans person but he has met plenty of people who’ve been tortured - himself included - so of course that’s his logical leap

soap takes off his shirt and he sees his top surgery scars and ghost asks if he wants him to kill the one who did it and soap just hums like, “actually, man did pretty good, they healed real well,” and ghost’s just teary-eyes with awe at how well he’s coping, “looking on the bright side, that’s my johnny.”

imagine he thinks johnny was fully castrated but sees he’s determined to still have a sex life with him so he buys packers and straps to help him bc hell yeah healing and soap’s just like, “holy shit i’ve never had such a thoughtful partner before, such a sweet man, lt.”

[possamble]

What I love about Dungeon Meshi is that it says “eat, or be eaten,” but not as in “survival of the fittest.” “Eat, or be eaten,” because there is no third choice—every day of your life, one or the other will happen. If you choose not to eat, you will be eaten. Eating is a mandatory part of being alive. The failure to acknowledge this makes you weak, guarantees that you will fail—as seen with Shuro, as seen with Thistle.

“Eat, or be eaten,” because “living things take other lives as sustenance, and no one is exempt.” If you eat—if you are a living thing—you will be eaten one day. Whether it's to literally be killed and eaten for your flesh, or decomposed down to the bone—violently or painlessly, quickly or slowly, you will be eaten and turned into sustenance for other living things. A dead body is always consumed as food, and there is no meaningful distinction between the two. The only way to avoid it is to have never been born at all.

“Eat, or be eaten,” because “eating is a privilege of the living.” And isn’t that incredible? To be a living thing is to have the privilege of eating. To have the ability to eat is a boon, an honour, a birthright. It is the unique, universe-given gift and right of all living things. It is synonymous with being alive—to live is to eat. To eat is to be eaten. We are eaten because we eat, we die because we were born, and the privilege of eating is earned through the inevitability of our deaths. The two cannot be separated. 

“Eat, or be eaten,” because “eating is a privilege of the living” and the reason why a mortal man could topple the personification of infinity—it cannot die, therefore it is not alive, yet it chose to eat. But to eat at all is to become a thing that can be eaten—choosing to take means you will have things taken from you in the same manner. The moment that Laios accepted this—after killing his sister with his own hands—was the moment the Winged Lion had already lost.

Dungeon Meshi is far from the first story to say, “memento mori.” But it takes the inevitability of death—a concept too distant and philosophical to grip the average person—and reframes it within the act of eating. Makes it visceral by using a universal part of daily life, a routine that every living thing is intimately familiar with. 

“Remember that you will die,” it says, but furthermore, “remember that your future death is a prerequisite for the food you are able to eat now—remember that other things die so that you can eat, remember that you will die to feed something else, and that there is no other alternative. There is no way to stop this. To take is to have things taken from you. To eat is to be eaten one day. There is nothing kind or cruel about this—it just is, and you must be the one to understand it and bring meaning to your own existence.

In light of all this, why wouldn't you choose to live as deliciously as possible?”

[wildpiercy-art]

[sweeteastart]

Ravioli day 5 four days later for raviolishipweek by @breannasfluff

I finished this 25 panel hell of a comic. It's resolution is a bit quick but i don't think I'm impartial after spending days on it