#and you need a good team

[egophiliac]

(looks at upcoming card releases)

I'm in danger :)

[hellaephemeral]

genshin is too hard i don’t wanna bUILD ANYMORE

[nipuni]

A warm up of Solas! Trying to remember how to draw him. It's been forever, bear with me 😵‍💫

[mocndu]

butchineer be with you

[mazeyphaedra]

was rewatching fabian’s baron moment on account of it being the most delicious piece of pvp in my recent memory and ally beardsley’s growth as a player just shone through so brightly and with such clarity. after dusting off their shock they immediately asked about the nemesis ward, had enough knowledge about fellow pcs stocked to remember adaine’s ac with such like frustrated confidence and certainty, suggested to siobhan to dimension door out of adaine’s room, like. they came into this making a character with 4 dex. and now the dice deity offered to roll a check to sense if adaine was in danger. making decisions, asking questions, getting invested in the story, trying so hard with the tools they have to save characters from danger; ally beardsley is an incredible d&d player.

[quantumshade]

can anyone explain to me at what point rose tyler was "unbelievably stupid". was it when she was inventing transdimensional travel

[theribbonmarkedroom]

No spoilers but I never thought anything could top the animation, color palettes, and the overall visuals of Into the Spiderverse but Across the Spiderverse absolutely did without a doubt in my mind. Just gorgeous animation and compositions all around and I can’t wait until it comes on dvd so I can pause and admire every single frame. Everyone who worked on character designs, backgrounds and lighting etc should be so so proud of the work they’ve done.

[starryeyed-seer]

me: I'm not a bat

Mr pages: (stuffing novels under its robe): I must abscond

[poppitron360]

What must it have been like to be Esperanza Valdez?

Knowing that your son had been chosen by the gods to have these powers because he was important to the fate of humanity. Knowing he held the entire planet’s existence in the balance and he would either make or break the world. Knowing he had dangerous powers, and if he couldn’t learn to control it he could end up causing unimaginable death and destruction.

Being terrified for your boy, knowing you are bringing him up to fight in a war that could potentially get him killed, or at least suffer so much pain.

And also being terrified of your boy, not knowing if you’re bringing him up to fight on the right side.

The constant worry of if you’re raising him to die, or raising him to destroy the world, or raising him to be manipulated into a weapon for death. Wanting to do what’s right for your son, because he is your everything. He is all that you have.

What must it have been like that night in the machine shop, watching the smoke curl through the crack in the door, watching the flames rising up? Knowing that you’ve let him down. Knowing that you should’ve done more to protect him. Knowing that you should’ve shown him how to use his powers safely. Knowing of all the pain and suffering he will go through now, alone. Without you.

I’m sorry, mijo. I’ve failed you. I’m so sorry.

[s0fter-sin]

insecure soap whose insecurities don't stem from a place of inadequacy

he knows how talented he is, how hard he’s worked to get where he is; that he didn’t land a spot on an exclusive highly skilled taskforce for no reason. he's confident about his skills; doesn't brag or show off, doesn't need to because he knows he'll always live up to and surpass expectations the second someone doubts him

but he also knows he can always be better

there's records left unbroken, mental walls he can shatter; if he just keeps pushing, keeps training he'll be more. he's always trying to beat himself, not in search of validation or outward assurance but because he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his yesterday self was lesser

slower

weaker

every muscle that burns and tears heals stronger so he dedicates himself to ripping them apart. scarred skin doesn't flinch from heat so he welcomes the burns. he’s strict with his diet and stricter with his schedule, he spends hours in the gym and longer at the range and not a minute of rest goes by without him thinking it’s time wasted when he could be improving, always improving

soap knows he's good

because he knows he can be great

and he won't stop until he is, no matter how many times he needs to break himself to get there

[tittyinfinity]

I just remembered that up until 5th grade, all of the sports teams I was in weren't separated by gender. I played basketball and baseball with boys. And we did just fine.

It wasn't until 6th grade when they segregated it by gender. It didn't make sense to me. I was now in softball instead of baseball, because "softball is for girls" and "baseball is for boys" (which confused me bc my dad was on an adult softball team).

Now, my brother's all-male team didn't win a single game. My all-girls team won every single one.

They presented the boys' team with this HUGE trophy, and if you wanted replicas of it, they were $30 each.

My team was presented with a very small trophy. Extras were $5.

That's when I decided gender-segregated sports were bullshit.

[wishesofeternity]

The thing about HotD is that it while it absolutely minimizes the agency and ambition of both Rhaenyra and Alicent, this is specifically used to glorify Rhaenyra and frame her as righteous while condemning Alicent and framing her lacking. That's the key difference in both their textual portrayals that has directly led to 90% of the fandom hailing Rhaenyra as the second coming of Christ while spewing the most hateful vitriol at Alicent just for existing. But y'all are not prepared for that conversation.

[a-leg-without-fear]

Fucked Up Leg

Wanted to throw my hat in the proverbial ring and try out writing about St. Matthew Murdock. This fic is a little dark as it deals with what I go through with my chronic pain. This is why I am Leg and leg is Me.

Ship: Matt Murdock x GN!Reader

Rating: 16+

Wordcount: 1,733

Warnings: cursing, depressive thoughts, talk of doctor visits, talk of dealing with medical issues, an extremely comforting and loving matt murdock

It was half past 9pm when your leg started aching. You sat on the leather couch with a book in your hands and a blanket over your lap. The billboard across the street shined blinding yellows and blues in through the windows, shadows chasing each other along the edges of your vision. The scent of the dinner you’d shared with Matt, fettuccine alfredo with roasted chicken, floated through the air and settled around you. You could hear commotion in the apartment below you. You assumed there were some new neighbors moving in with how much foot traffic there was, but you weren’t quite sure. You, of course, didn’t have Matt’s senses. 

At first, the pain was just a slight twinge, a dull ache. A deep rooted uncomfortableness that seeped from your hip socket and spread throughout your upper thigh. Knowing this was only the start of a quickly worsening night, you retreated to your and Matt's bedroom in an attempt to keep weight off your leg.

Matt was out on his nightly patrols. He had left at around 8, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and promising to be back before 2am. At the time, the firm deadline appeared a blessing. Usually you would be left in the dark as to how late Matt would be out. Hearing him give you a set time made you breathe a sigh of relief. Now, however, you thought of how far away that curfew seemed as you settled into your shared bed, bracing for the pain to get worse.

You laid on your right side, gingerly placing a thin pillow between your thighs. The little bit of separation between your legs tended to help relieve some of the pressure on your hip socket. You let your knees bend naturally as you tried to get comfortable. The lights from the billboard were less bright in the bedroom. Partially due to the angle of the beacon in the night, but also due to the paper you’d taped to the windows in an attempt to block out any and all light. You could feel the silk sheets slide against your bare legs as your shorts hiked up beneath the covers. You plugged your phone into your, thankfully, long cord that stretched long enough for you to use it on your side. 

You faced the bedroom door, the right side of the bed empty. Not intentionally, as you’d keep off your left leg anyway, but because Matt would lay on the side of the bed between you and any danger. He was sweet like that, always putting himself in harm’s way for you and others. You chuckled to yourself as you began scrolling aimlessly through your phone. You knew for a fact that if Matt could take your reoccurring pain and put it in his leg to give you relief, he would. He would in a heartbeat. Sacrifice his own fighting ability to give you a chance of being able to dance again.

God, you missed dancing. You used to go to dance classes every week, sometimes multiple nights in a row. Letting yourself flow to the music as you followed choreography, bouncing from foot to foot, swaying your hips, laughing when you would mess up. For years that’s how you kept active, kept busy, kept happy.

Until your leg decided to say “fuck you,” that is. The doctors assumed it was “just too much dancing” that did your leg in. What started as a tear in the cartilage in your hip joint spread throughout your thigh as other problems arose. Stress fracture in your femur, a worn ACL, torn muscles under your kneecap. A seemingly never ending list of problems made you debilitated, forcing you to use a cane and, in extreme circumstances, a wheelchair. The doctors tried physical therapy, medication, and even surgery. But the problems kept reappearing. You would have fine mobility and limited aches for a good few months, maybe even a year. But sooner or later that dull ache would find itself rooted in your hip. And you’d just have to strap in for a long ride.

About 10 minutes after you’d laid down the pain got worse. The ache turned into a sharp jab, like someone had stabbed you in the hip and kept the knife there, sliding and slicing to create waves of pain that lasted for minutes at a time. You clenched your jaw as you tried to remain focused on your phone. This wasn’t anything you hadn’t been through before. You could handle this. Of course it felt like a hot poker was stuck in your hip socket, but that was just a regular Tuesday for you.

Then the muscle above your knee twinged. A redhot spark of pain you could feel in your teeth. The pulsing shocks permeated throughout your entire leg, not just your knee. Stacked with the ache in your thigh it was beginning to be unbearable. 

Your phone fell from your hands as your eyes squeezed shut. You wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering and wincing. Nausea began to build in your stomach and your head began to spin. The muscles beneath your skin started to jump and twitch. You blew a sharp gust of air out of your nose.

“Fuck me,” you whispered. Why? Why, when things are going great, your leg practically lights itself on fire? Just last week you’d helped Matt take out a handful of bank robbers, dodging blows and landing punches like Black Widow herself. Matt had even been impressed at how well you maneuvered yourself. You kicked and squatted and jumped like there was no tomorrow. And not a muscle was out of place the next morning.

Laying in bed, arms wrapped around your trembling body, leg having a tantrum. All you could do was resign yourself to this neverending feeling of hopelessness. Will it ever get better? Is there some magical cure you just haven’t found yet? What are you doing wrong? You could feel yourself spiral in your depression, the minutes and hours blending together to become an ongoing existence of pain. It felt like a rock had sunk itself to the bottom of your stomach. Your heart was racing, anxiety coursing through your veins. Was this what would become of your life? You would be reduced to nothing, just a leg on fire attached to a motionless husk? Would you ever be able to dance again?

“Sweetheart?” a voice rang out from the living room. A familiar, tentative tone laced with concern. Your eyes snapped open to see Matt. Standing just beyond the doorway, all dressed in black, cloth mask in hand, chocolate eyes looking in your general direction. His dark hair was matted to his forehead from the exertion of his nightly outings.

You cleared the edge of pain from your throat, then said, “Yeah?”

Matt was kneeling in front of you on the bed before you could blink. His brow was so tightly furrowed you had the briefest thought it’d stay that way. Warm, large hands began flitting across your body.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Was someone here?” he asked in a flurry of questions. One of his hands landed on your jaw, fingers trailing across where your pulse flowed strongest. The other ended up tangled with your own as you tried to quiet him.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m okay,” you breathed. You brought his hand to your mouth and pressed your lips to his bruised knuckles. Matt’s fingers held your hand tighter as he let his eyes fall closed, his breathing slowing. You knew this was what he did when he sent his senses out, listening and smelling and tasting and feeling your body better than you could. His awareness diving deep beneath your skin to seek out anything abnormal.

When his eyes fluttered open, his gaze landed on your chin and a frown settled across his lips.

“It’s your leg again, isn’t it,” Matt said, not posing the phrase as a question. He already knew the answer.

All you could do was nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You could feel the grief of decades of pain and sorrow build along the walls of your throat. Your breathing grew ragged as the tears broke free and slid their way down your flushed cheeks. What if he grew tired of you? Grew tired of constantly needing to take care of you, tired of dealing with the bursts of pain you needlessly endured. A man of his skill, his charisma, his fighting ability. Surely he wouldn’t want to stay with someone as encumbered as you.

No further words were exchanged between the two of you. Matt gingerly slid his arm beneath your head, letting you cuddle against his chest, as his other arm pulled your torso close to him. His body curled around yours, as if the pain you were feeling was an outside source and he was the shield that protected you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and breathed his comforting scent, cinnamon and smoke, in. Hot tears trailed their way from your eyes and stained his shirt.

“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, lips pressed to the shell of your ear, saying exactly what you needed to hear as if he knew. He slid one of his legs between your thighs, replacing the pillow that was there originally. At first the movement was a shock to your already agonized body. Then, the extra bit of space between your legs lifted some of the pressure on your hip joint. You sighed shakily against Matt’s neck.

The two of you remained that way, Matt’s leg between your thighs, his arm beneath your head, your face tucked against his neck, his free hand rubbing soothing circles into your side. He whispered sweet words of reassurance every now and then. Saying he loved you, he wasn’t going anywhere, he’d help you find a way to fix your leg. 

You knew that soon he’d have to get up to go to work. You knew he’d unwind his limbs from yours, would give you the softest kiss you’ve ever felt, and promise to be back with your favorite foods.

But until then, you would stay tucked in against your Devil. Your guiding light. Your comfort when things were dark. Your relief from a fucked up leg.

[eobsinj]

✨ marco bezzecchi - assen 2023 ( twt | ig | fb )

[kagooleo]

johto’s champion and chronicler for the deity of the ilex shrine, it’s lyra!🌿

this one took me a while due to trying out different techniques (studying a Lot of art nouveau) and making a couple changes to her outfit (the details help), but I’d like to think she’s learned a lot in her journey and wanted to reflect her experience more in her champion fit

her specialty would be in fairy types and her meganium’s divergent evolution is grass/fairy 🧚🪷

and a bonus w/ the johto gang after the photoshoot!

[seawitchkaraoke]

I love how angst obsessed the fandom is but I will say I think it's very funny bc everyone is like ohhh GGG+Impulse is gonna be so angsty, that cannot end well and I'm here like well, see, I think they might disappoint you bc Cleo and Scott are the most loyal ppl on the server, they never betray their day one alliance and Pearl is usually the same as well and also.... I think while the fandom is obsessed with angst, the creators might just be excited to properly team up again

So what I'm saying is, I am so excited to read super angsty fanfics while watching this group be absolute besties in the actual series lmao