#but it's got hands today

[moneygoblin04]

I feel like I'm gonna puke

[keymintt]

a comic/zine about coyotes

[anna-scribbles]

last one i promise(<—lie)

[mimimar]

finally completed my comic based on the song ivy by taylor swift!✿ please zoom in to read the text and see the details~

✿.✿.✿

you can get the digital zine pdf here! it includes extras like character profiles, costume design, more art of willow and ivy, zine-exclusive sketches and an illustrated guide to the symbolism of all the flowers in this comic.

you can also get prints of individual pages here!

✿.✿.✿

[therealcallmekd]

Now THAT'S Thinkin' In 3D!

HHEHEHEE HAH FLATLAND FANART BE UPON YE

[starry-bi-sky]

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

He's shaking. His heart is burning in his chest, pounding like a jackhammer against his ribs, and there's a trembling, aching rage building beneath his tongue and pressing against his teeth.

In his hands, his fingers tense and wrists locked, the article reads in big, black font: JOKER LOCKED IN ARKHAM ASYLUM AGAIN!

Danny shouldn't feel so angry about this, this is a good thing. Gotham doesn't have to deal with him for another few months at the least. He should feel relieved, a little more at peace.

He is not.

He cannot swallow the fury thudding behind his eyes, the burning white heat searing a deeper hole in his chest. A searing green filling static in his ears in the way only the rage of the restless dead can have.

How is he going to kill him now?

Arkham may be the only asylum in America made entirely of tissue paper, but it's still an asylum. There are cameras, guards, other patients resting inside. Danny can think of a million different ways to sneak in and kill Joker, but someone will hear his screaming.

It'd have to be rushed.

He doesn't want it to be rushed.

It's a cruel thought. Cruel and cold and merciless, but Danny doesn't feel an ounce of shame, not an ounce of guilt, for it. He wants to be alone with the Joker when he kills him, that's all he wants. In Arkham, you are never alone.

He forces his anger to bubble back down into his chest, stuffing it between his heartstrings and his ribs like a blanket you're trying to bunch up into a corner. It sizzles and burbles. The static begins to fade out into a high-pitched ringing; it sounds like distant screaming.

Danny is still trembling, but he can think a little clearer now.

He can wait.

He can wait. He can wait. He can wait. He canwait. Hecanwait. Hecanwait.

He can wait.

He's waited five years for this. He can wait one more week. One more month. One more year. However long it takes for the Joker to break back out, Danny can wait.

And when the Joker does, inevitably, break out.

Danny uncrinkles his fingers around the edges of the newspaper, loosens his limbs just enough so he can pay for it.

He'll be waiting.

The dead, after all, have all the time in the world.

[drrav3nb]

CHYNA & EDDIE GUERRERO + rose kisses

(cred to FullWithDivas for the videos!)

[omaano]

Echo with his tooka best buddy (and an extra) for @phantasm-echo 's DTIYS 🩵💙❤️

[lemon-wedges]

hes bragging about something idk

[osamucide]

Babe, imagine Dazai, but like tied up with a collar and all, vibrator stuffed into him while he's whimpering and rubbing himself against you like the shameless slut he is

–🫧

he’s such a pathetic whore.

you can’t even cuddle innocently on the couch after work without him trying to jump you. it was a long day and you’re exhausted—you told him this, but he’s relentless. please, just let me fuck your thighs! please, just let me grind on your ass! he wants you that bad? fine, he can have you, but you’re going to use the last remaining bit of energy you have to lead him to bed by the neck of his shirt and sit him down before you slide the box out from beneath the mattress.

“quit squirming,” you tell him as you snap the collar around his throat—he doesn’t quit squirming, it only spurs him on—and move to bind his wrists behind him with the pretty black length of rope. you slip the remaining length through the d-ring at the back of his neck, bowing his back in a subtle arch before ordering him onto his knees with his face in the pillows.

it’s cute to watch him struggle, fall face-first a little bit as he positions himself where you want him—you’re coating your fingers with lube as his back falls into a more severe arch, his pretty ass wiggling in the air. he lets out a shameless, full-bodied moan when you yank his boxers down and circle the rim of his hole; another when you start to work him open on one finger, then two; he’s trying desperately to fuck back against you by the time you’re slipping the vibrating plug into him, whining about how he needs it, this is torture, it would’ve been easier if you would’ve just let him fuck you.

you tsk at him as you nestle the plug in his ass down to the base and fish the little remote out of the box.

“lay down,” you coo as you snap the waistband of his boxers back in place and slide the box back under the bed; again, it’s cute to watch him struggle. but he ends up on his stomach, elbows bent to accommodate the rope connected to his collar, and you get up to flick the light off before snuggling into bed next to him, satisfied with your work.

“baby,” he whines.

you shush him, nuzzling against him, wedging your thigh between his—god, he’s hard—and, with the remote in hand, slinging your arm across his waist. he scrambles against you, desperate for friction in the crook of your hip; with your other arm curled beneath his head, you settle in, sigh, and press a soft kiss to his trembling lips before closing your eyes and clicking the vibrator on to the lowest setting.

“ah!” he gasps, his pelvis hitching against yours.

“go ahead,” you mumble to him. “get yourself off. told you ‘m tired.”

so he ruts against you steadily as you drift off to sleep, sobbing quietly in a way that fades into white noise for you. you’re pretty sure he calls you cruel a couple times before you totally lose consciousness, but you just smile a little through your barely-awake state, not even gracing him with your usual praises of good boy, Osamu, doing so good for me. maybe you are cruel.

you’re totally asleep by the time he cums, whining and making a sticky mess against you in his boxers—as he twitches against the aftershocks of his climax he wonders if you’ll leave him like this all night, vibrator in his ass, arms bound behind him; how the hell is he supposed to sleep now? you are cruel.

he wakes up from an uncomfortable sleep in the early hours of the morning to you undoing his restraints, working the plug out of him—and he’s unbearably hard again.

“morning, good boy,” you whisper. “still wanna fuck me?”

you better believe he stretches his sore arms out, cracks his neck and rolls on top of you with fervor—whether or not you’ll regret what you did to him a mere few hours ago will be up to you. ⊹

[misstoodles-doodles]

Arc Trooper Fives & Echo ✨

[valgeristik]

i know the end of twilight princess kinda implied Link doesnt go back to his old life n thats a very interesting concept in its own way but. what if......

Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List

E-sims donation

[morganbritton132]

Eddie, posting to TikTok: I know it’s a little faux pas to post shit from celebrity parties like this but…

Eddie: How long do you think it’s going to take for him to notice that that’s not me

Eddie: *flips camera around to show Steve on the other side of the room*

Steve: *pulling a man along behind him because he wants to be introduced to Cher*

The man: *Weird Al Yankovic*

[heich0e]

single dad!osamu and his toddler son who refers to you as his 'babe'—because that's what his papa calls you

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmm danny with sensory issues both in and out of his ghost forms, but on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Ghosts can't experience sensations the same way humans can when they're in the mortal realm. They're naturally intangible, and it takes energy to be physical. When they're physical, all touch feels the same barring the texture. They feel no heat, no chill. Sunlight passes through them, and so does wind and rain.

You know when your foot falls asleep/goes completely numb, and you go to touch it with your hand and it causes a strange jumble of sensations? You can feel the skin there, your palm is pressing against an object and there's resistance, pressure, but you can't feel the heat? It's kinda something like that. Like he's feeling everything through a set of gloves.

As a ghost, when it rains, he can feel the raindrops hitting him, and he can feel his hair getting wet, but he can't feel the chill of the water and he can't feel the wetness. His suit is soaked but there's no weight like there should be. During the winter snowflakes don't melt when they land on him, and he can't feel the chill of the snow when he gets buried under it.

Sunlight passes through him, a nice breeze ruffles his hair but there's no relief in the sensation. All pressure, no sensation. It's like a strange form of sensory deprivation. And of course, the internal things. It's even worse when he's intangible, when he's not putting energy into being physical. He doesn't feel real.

As human, things become too much. Especially when he's been a ghost for hours. He can feel the weight of his ribs pressing against his ribs, he becomes hyperaware of the expanding of his lungs when he breathes, the feeling of his heart pulsing in his chest.

He curls his fingers in and out slowly and becomes fascinated by the feeling of the joints moving. He turns and grabs Tucker's hand, and soaks in the warmth of his body heat -- he can't feel it as a ghost. He runs his fingers through his hair, and he can feel the individual strands.

There's a weight when he walks. A small drag when he bends his knee and lifts his leg and takes a step, and when he's been a ghost for too long he stumbles over himself, drags his feet along the floor and stomps when he doesn't mean to because he forgot to weigh his steps. Sometimes when it rains he goes out and sits on the front steps of the house just so he can come back in shivering and soaked through to the bone. Runs his fingers obsessively over the goosebumps up along his arms and legs because he can't get them as a ghost even if he's cold.

Because there are certain things, even when he's in the ghost zone, that are exclusive to the living. The little internal things you don't notice and take for granted. Things like breathing and goosebumps and exhaustion exclusive to running that makes your heart pound against your ribcage and your chest hurt with the need for air. Sore muscles from working out and sweating. Thirst and dry mouths, chapped lips and hands, blinking and dry eye, the feeling of the sun soaking into your skin on a nice summer's day.

As a ghost, Danny faces sensory issues in the form of not enough. When he can't feel the hair behind his ears or the weight in his limbs where there should be muscle, tissue, and bone. He can't feel the sun or the wind, everything is in a permeable state of 'just fine', and its maddening. He can breathe if he wants, but there's no point to it. He has no lungs, he can't feel them expand, and there's no relief behind it. He's going through the motions without any of the reward.

On those days, the idea of going ghost again makes him feel ill. Paranoid. He can't stand the thought. He needs to feel. He needs to feel the soft texture of the rug beneath his feet and the grooves in his knuckles, he needs to feel dirt crumble beneath his fingers and get stuck under his nails, he needs to feel the heat of his sister's hand and the feeling of body warmth passing from her to him. He lays on the carpet room and stretches out, and focuses on the feeling of his heart beating and the weight of his bones and muscles and tissue pinning him to the floor.

As a human, Danny faces sensory issues of too much. When all the things he's starving for suddenly make him sick. He feels trapped in his own skin. His ribs become a cage and breathing becomes a dumbbell that he can't put down. He can feel the hair along his arms and it rashes him. He's too cold, he's too hot. He feels like a ghost puppeteering its own corpse and he needs out.

On those days, Danny dips away when he can and goes ghost, and Sam and Tucker don't see him for the rest of the day. He's gone invisible, intangible, and he does nothing but exist.

Just, him experiencing sensory issues as both ghost and human, but in opposite directions from each other. And the idea that ghosts experience the mortal realm differently, and that there are certain things that are just exclusive sensations for the living that Danny doesn't realize until he's a halfa.