#especially in the new season

[n3rdy247]

the smurfs reboot is fucking killing me because i have to have a debate every second of every rewatch if they had increased budget or not

[choccy-milky]

⭐ HL x ghibli! ⭐

[oliviadempseyart]

Had to do some good omens fanart to cope with finishing season 2 😭😭

[flesh-and-fangs]

Y'all, I hate to say it, but no, Nandermo did not "go canon", in an "alternate universe" or through "implications" or otherwise. They were making fun of us. That was the point of all the little nudges and open questions that were quickly squashed. That was the point of the hypnosis ending. The point of that hypnosis was quite literally "Here, let's give the perfect fake wish-fulfillment ending to parts of our fanbase" (which is why there were three. They're fake. That's the point. The point is that they are supposed to be fantasies to appeal to people's hopes for the show).

Having Nandor and Guillermo as a classic sitcom couple set to a laugh track in a universe where none of the other characters exist was a jab at shippers who wanted Nandermo to be canon and cared more about that than the other characters or the premise of the show. They were making fun of "and they lived happily ever after" type fanwork. They were making fun of people who, in their eyes, ignored the irreverence and violence and black comedy of the show in order to make fluffy slash content. They were explicitly saying: "This is how we see you, and this is how we see what you want from this show, and we are telling you that it won't happen and we in fact have contempt for the very concept."

Why do you think they kept baiting the ship until the literal last lines of the show? They were making fun of us. They were saying "Ha! You still thought this would happen? After years of us saying it won't, to your face? Idiots." It's a comedy show, and they were making shippers the butt of the joke. They've been doing it for seasons now.

This is literally what Supernatural did back in the day. And nobody said that they made Destiel canon when they had an in-universe/alternate-universe stage play where the actors "explore Destiel". Fans back then recognized that it was a joke at their expense. That's what this is. Same as what happened in BBC Sherlock that one time, where in-universe conspiracy theorists said that Sherlock was in love with Moriarty (a ship the creators deliberately baited, mind you, same as they have here), specifically for the purpose of laughing at and making fun of that theory.

I'm so sorry, guys. I know you wanted to hope. I know you wanted to believe that the things the writers said at that con weren't true, but they were. I know because I wanted to hope too, even when I knew full well it wouldn't happen. They've been plain about how they feel about the ship for years. They saw it as a joke, one that drew in viewers, but was objectionable at its core. And they've followed through on that by baiting and jabbing up until the very end.

[l1-b1]

I wish to show you my Pixal design pretty pls

What do we think about purple Pixal samurai x

[zorangezest]

mister recruiter guy from squid game because they made him so much fun in season 2

APPARNETLY HIS ACTOR ALSO PLAYRD THE TRAIN TO BUSAN GUY WHICH IS. INCREDIBLE ACTUALLY

[dennisboobs]

:) i certainly have no issue dressing in drag :)

^guy who has no issue dressing in drag btw

glenn said that dennis' drag name is victoria von hemen btw

(Source)

[sethmp3]

Omfg....

I AM ON MY KNEES.

[grayeet]

HAHA I CALLED IT WE'RE NOT GETTING SEASONS IT'S A FLORA/AMBIENT NATURE UPDATE YESS

[stardynamite]

While rewatching ducktales, I realised that they looove foreshadowing, they do it all the time, sometimes they even give the whole plot of an episode in the very first scenes without the viewer noticing lol.

Anyway, I realised that they foreshadowed the whole “duke of making a mess” thing that Huey had in the sword of swanstantine episode!

THE THING IS, EVEN on my first watch, I could tell that this was supposed to be a multiple episode arc but they HAD to make it shorter because ducktales was getting cancelled and I’m PISSED. LIKE ALL OF MY FAVOURITE CARTOONS, THIS COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH MORE.

DEWEY had his own arc where he’s trying to uncover his mom’s dissaperance with Webby. LOUIE had his own arc where he was struggling with his place in the family and HUEY. DIDN’T.

Ughhh they foreshadowed the Duke of making a mess in the intern episode and even in Scrooge’s birthday!!

Those are BOTH season 1 episodes (I’m not gonna list more foreshadowing because you get my point) SO THEY’VE BEEN BUILDING UP THIS ARC SINCE THE BEGINNING AND THEY DIDNT GET TO CASH IT INNNNN RAHHHHHH 🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️

When watching the ONE episode where he appears, you could IMMEDIATELY tell that it should’ve been a bigger deal. I mean come onnnn, they enter Huey’s mind scape and there’s a huge closed up door??? With locks??? DUUUDE THAT WOULD’VE BEEN AWESOMMMMEEE

I’m saying all of this but this is just to vent some frustration about how animation shows will just be cancelled without the chance to say all that they’ve wanted to say… and as the one who wants to hear it: *cries and wails and pees on the floor*

Ducktales was planning so many more seasons and only got 3, like every other great animation show nowadays i fear

[alastair-1205]

Llpyd and Sora's dynamic is amazing because as opposed to being grouped into a father-daughter thing based on just ✨️vibes✨️, them having that relationship is supported Thematically which makes it 100% better.

Like I wouldn't say in canon they're even there just yet, but just because Lloyd has almost every parental issue on the planet and Sora has the ones he's missing, it makes me go like "Fuck yea that's his kid!!" Cuz they fucking deserve it. Sora had no parents and Lloyd had an, at best, weirdrelationship with both of his. It just fits you know?

[blindmagdalena]

The Fall

2.8k mostly sfw homelander x reader. christmas adjacent. depowered homelander.

Summary: After being struck by an unidentified projectile that renders him powerless, Homelander crash lands in your backyard, wholly at your mercy.

this is a rework of this original prompt. inspired by the fable of the mouse that aids the lion whose paw has been stuck by a thorn.  ♡

Homelander is over a hundred feet in the air when he hears something whistling through the sky behind him. Some kind of projectile. A small missile, maybe. It's nothing he hasn't handled before: It could blow up in his face and he would be fine. He’s more curious about what exactly it is, who’s stupid enough to fire it at him, and where it’s coming from. 

With that in mind–in that split second he has to react–he decides to forgo dodging it and instead attempt to catch it.  However, as the mystery projectile gets nearer, his vision begins to tunnel. 

What the fuck? 

His reflexes slow, and before he knows it, the projectile strikes him hard in his left side rib, exploding in fumes that fill his lungs and coat his skin. In an instant, he feels pain like he's been turned inside out, a sensation worse than anything he’s felt since childhood. Instantly he's plummeting towards the ground, crashing directly into your backyard in an eruption of snow and yard furniture.

With his vision going black, the last thing he hears is the sound of the world turning deafeningly quiet.

When Homelander comes to, he's being shaken. No–compressed, hands over his chest, pushing again and again in a steady rhythm. Warm lips press against his, and a rush of air fills his lungs. His eyes snap open, and out of pure reflex, he drives his fist into your unfamiliar form, sitting up with a frenzied look in his eyes.

You should have flown back thirty feet with a hit like that. Instead, you only fell back onto your ass, coughing. Homelander's hands are shaking as he looks at them, and he can feel blood dripping from his ears, taste it in his mouth. He's disoriented, his whole body heavy. He's having trouble breathing, every ragged inhale a struggle, and his heart is pounding.

"Someone tried to kill me," he rasps in disbelief. Not surprised that someone tried, but that someone very nearly succeeded. "Someone... Someone tried to fucking kill me," he says again, growing more hysteric the more the pain sets in. His own brain is hammering against the confines of his skull, beating at the backs of his eyes.

He’s certain that he’s halfway to cardiac arrest, but no matter how he tries to focus, he can’t calm himself. His strength is gone. It’s gone. He looks at you, you, who should have a hole punched through your chest. Instead, you’re staggering to your feet, totally unharmed. 

"Homelander!" You address sharply, audibly trying to rein in your own bubbling panic. He can see his own fear reflected in your eyes. You’re just as confused as he is. Just a stupid little mouse that crawled out of your hole and found him like this. "I can help you, okay? Let me help you."

There’s something about the sharp authority in your voice mixed with an undeniable quiver of compassion that catches his attention. It could be the degree of his vulnerability sinking in, but after a second of dumbfounded staring, Homelander nods.

It must be pure adrenaline that gives you the strength to help him into your house. You don’t look like you should be able to carry him. He's practically dead weight in your arms, barely keeping himself on his feet as you both stumble into your living room. The height difference does neither of you any favors.

You get him down onto the couch before fetching a wet rag, a bottle of water, pills, and a first aid kit. He watches you fumble with it, hands shaking. He assumes it’s adrenaline, though you lack the acidic stench of it. No, you probably don’t. He just can’t smell it anymore. He can’t smell anything except the faint tinge of blood, and whatever nauseating scented candle you use to stink up your home. Though, even that’s distant compared to what he’s used to. However, he finds he doesn’t have it in him to panic. Is this what shock feels like?

He takes the water you offer him, but denies the pills. “No, no. I have no idea what that shit will do to me right now.” You nod, setting the bottle aside. You then lean over him, inspecting the level of damage. His ears are ringing, and his whole body is throbbing with sharp, painful aches. Maybe the pills would help, but he’s never had to take painkillers before. He’d rather swallow tacks than lean on something so pedestrian.

As you work, he notices a mottled mark blossoming darkly across the center of your chest, just under your collarbone, approximately the size of his fist. Without thinking, he reaches up to touch it, remembering the blow he’d dealt you.

You startle, looking down where he touches with a wince. The skin looks as tender as he feels. It must sting. Is he bruised like this beneath his suit? The thought of these same ugly dark marks mirrored on his own body brings him visceral disgust. 

"Don't worry about me," you tell him, as comforting as your voice can muster. You grasp his wrist and gently lay it back down at his side.

I'm not worried about you, he thinks derisively. "That should have caved in your chest."

"Guess it's my lucky day, then," you say absently, more focused on using a wet cloth to wipe away the blood from his temple, up into his hairline, seeking the injury. You're meticulous but gentle in the way you handle him, cupping the side of his face to turn him one way, then another.

If not for how clumsy your movements feel, he’d think you’ve done this before. There is care and determination in the way you tend to him, but no obvious medical expertise. Even the kit you pull from looks out of date and sparse. You probably picked it up from a gas station on a whim because you needed safety pins. "I think these need stitches," you say as you carefully apply bandages, brows furrowed. Homelander's gaze lingers on your lips as you speak. What kind of person sees someone fall out of the fucking sky, blowing a crater in their yard in the process, and then thinks to give them CPR?

"I'm calling an ambulance," you say, moving to stand. That breaks him out of his stupor. He catches you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, despite how pitifully weak his own grasp feels. "No, no, not... Don't do that," he says, screwing his eyes shut briefly. No one else can know that this happened. Besides, if those psychopaths are still out there, it will draw them right to him. "Too much attention, I just... give me a fucking minute," he says, flexing his hands. They still feel weak, tingling like they've fallen asleep, but the bizarre sensation is gradually beginning to abate.

Whatever was done to him, it doesn't seem to be permanent. 

He hopes to fuck that it isn’t. "Okay," you say tentatively. Instead of leaving, however, you reposition to continue wiping the blood from his face, gently rubbing from his temples down his jaw. He watches you like a hawk, rolling his fingers in and out of fists, gradually feeling his strength return to him.

He's unaccustomed to the way you're handling him. One hand cupping his jaw, ginger in the way you move his head only when you absolutely need to. The concern wrinkled between your brows is so palpable, so sincere, that for a moment he almost forgets you're strangers to each other.

"What're you doing?" He asks eventually, voice low. You pause, looking down to meet his eye. "Oh, I just... There's still blood, and I didn't want to leave you alone."

Your response tightens something in his chest, like a steel coil wrung too tight, leaving him uncomfortable. He feels small, vulnerable, and the tenderness of your touch is doing nothing for it. "I don't need you," he snaps defensively. "I'm fine."

"Okay," you respond, aggravatingly calm. Still soothing. "What do you need?" Homelander opens his mouth, but hesitates. Your earnestness is infuriating, waiting on bated breath for what you can do for him. He closes his mouth, jaw tight. His gaze flickers back down to the bruise on your chest. It's darker now, varying shades of purple and yellow fading into one another.

Looking back up at you, he schools his expression into calm focus. "Close the blinds," he says, gesturing with his head to the window, where you have twinkling white Christmas lights strung up. 

"I need to lay low awhile." He can feel his powers steadily returning. Once he gets back to Vought, he'll find out who it was, and rip out their fucking spine.

You've already gotten up to do as he asked, drawing the blinds down, and then closing the curtains over them. Afterwards, you turn to leave.

"Hey," Homelander calls, frowning. You stop in the doorway. "Where are you going?"

"The kitchen," you answer, hand on the doorframe. "You can call if you need something."

"Stay here," he says, ignoring the bit of petulance he can hear in his own voice. He doesn't care if you're confused. He doesn't care that he doesn't entirely understand himself. He just wants you to stay.

He watches you take a seat at the end of the couch, near his feet. He exhales, closing his eyes. It isn't as though you could do anything if proficient killers did appear, but for whatever reason, no matter how useless you would ultimately be, he feels better for having you near.

Even a curtain is better than no door at all.

After half an hour, his senses begin to sharpen again. It begins as a dull, irritating buzz at first. It has him rubbing at his ears, screwing his eyes shut. It rolls in and out of focus, making it difficult to adjust to. “Are you okay?” You ask from the other end of the couch, where you’ve been sitting with remarkable patience. Maybe you’re afraid of him. He hates not being able to tell by the rate of your heart.

“Peachy keen,” he replies flatly. “Hearing’s coming back.”

“That’s good,” you say, though the inflection you end with makes it sound more like a question.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s good, it’s just… Loud,” he says, grinding the heel of his palm into his temple. His skull is still pounding. “Everything’s all… Coming back in a jumble. Giving me a fucking headache,” he says, though as he speaks, he realizes he’s able to focus fairly well on the conversation, drowning out the more intrusive ambient sounds. “Keep talking.”

You look surprised by his demand, but after a beat, you oblige. After maybe an hour of idle conversation, he learns your name, that you work from home, you like decorating for Christmas even when you spend it alone, and that you've lived a thoroughly dull, ordinary little life until this very moment.

That’s just what you’ve told him.

From his personal observations, he's learned that you’re a perpetual fidgeter, that you touch your face when you're nervous, and that you would rather laugh than take any of his disparaging remarks about your mundane life to heart.

"I think it's lucky for you that I’m so boring. I might not have been here otherwise," you counter. Your smile is so inexplicably charming–nose wrinkled like you’ve somehow pulled a fast one on him–that Homelander forgets to refute your point. Instead, much to your alarm, he sits up.

"Oh, steady! Are you sure you're okay?" You ask, standing as he does, hands out as if to catch him. He stretches his hands out in front of him, and then curls his arms back in. Exhaling, his eyes flare crimson. He likes the way it makes your heart jump when he looks at you through the red glow.

His lips quirk, lasers fading out. "Good as new," he says confidently, though the aches of his fall still linger in his joints. Not quite new. He takes a few long strides across your living room, pausing in the doorway to your kitchen, where he can see through to your yard, and the absolute crater he left in it. "Vought will... take care of that," he says, gesturing vaguely to the destruction.

You can't help but laugh, crossing your arms loosely to survey the damage with him. "I appreciate it, but really, I'm just glad you're alright," you say honestly, staring out into the wreckage of your yard.

Homelander purses his lips slightly, glancing at you from his peripheral. Above him, he feels something brush the top of his head. When he glances up, what he sees hanging in the doorway makes him smile deviously.

Without warning, he puts his hands on your waist and spins you to him, lips landing warm and firm on yours. He absolutely devours the surprised little noise you make against him, halfway tempted to see what other sounds he can wring from you.

Your heart quickens to a race in his ears, and much to his delight, you kiss him back. You even surprise him by grabbing the back of his head with both hands, deepening the kiss of your own volition.

Not one to be out done, he adjusts his hold on you, one arm wrapping properly around your waist while the other slides up to cup the back of your neck, gloved fingers gently squeezing your bare skin.

To his delight, you retaliate with your tongue, slipping it between his lips and coaxing his forth.

Just full of surprises, little mouse.

Maybe you aren't so boring after all.

He meets you eagerly, exhaling a rough, excited little huff through his nose, dropping the hand at your waist to grab a cheeky squeeze full of your ass, wringing a soft moan from you that sends a bolt of heat straight to his cock.

When Homelander pulls back, you're flushed warmly all over. You smell of antiseptic wipes and peppermint, like Christmas in a hospital. It’s bizarrely appealing.

"What was that?" You ask, dazed.

"Mistletoe," he purrs, tipping his head back without taking his eyes off you, settling his hands back on your waist.

You look up slowly–taking a solid few seconds to process–and huff a gentle little laugh, nodding at the aforementioned ornament dangling above you. 

"Is this your way of saying thank you?" You manage to ask after swallowing back the lump in your throat, your shoulders relaxing, though your heart continues to gallop in your chest. "I hope you're still going to pay for my yard."

It's Homelander's turn to laugh. "Oh, no. I haven't even begun to say thank you yet," he assures you, hands lingering on your hips. 

The kiss had been pure unrestricted impulse, nothing he intended to follow through on. However, now that you're toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, your skin warm against his, your eyes half lidded, he’s not sure that he wants to let you go. Your lips shine where you’ve licked the taste of his from them. 

“I think for your good deeds, you’re owed a very merry Christmas,” he says, waggling his brows. 

You give a flustered, incredulous bark of laughter, covering your mouth as you look away from him, that flush of yours intensifying, making your whole body thrum warmly. You wouldn’t need to worry about keeping warm on these cold winter nights if he had his way with you.

“Okay, well, uhm, thank you for… for that thought,” you say, tripping over your words in a way you haven’t this entire encounter. “You hit your head pretty hard, though so maybe before you make any promises, we make sure you get checked out by an actual doctor,” you say, pushing lightly against his chest.

He maintains his hold for just a second longer, utterly immovable. It feels good to be himself again. He runs his tongue along his teeth, downright predatory in the way he stares down at you, but he does relinquish his hold.

“You should come with me to the tower. You know, now that you’re… Compromised,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “Someone might come looking for me here. Interrogate you on my condition.”

Real fear flashes in your eyes at that. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he gives back gravely.

“Uh… Okay. Uhm, let me… I’ll pack a bag,” you say nervously, stepping away from him to do just that.

“Okie-dokie,” he gives back simply, glancing around your home while he waits. He picks up an odd little gnome with a big red hat that covers everything but a little button nose, and a long white beard. Maybe he’ll convince you to bring along some of your festive decorations.

Merry Christmas to me, he thinks, already daydreaming about twisting the head off of whoever hit him with some kind of neutralizing agent.

He might thank them for the impromptu date while he’s at it.

[hamletshoeratio]

Colin telling Eloise that she's fortunate because she has never been in love when it's his other half's fault she had to walk away from "one of the only good things" in her life because LW put him in harm's way.

[unknown-cold]

People will never understand the grief and suffering that Caitlyn went through, they will never understand the complex characters who always did good things but unfortunately the world didn't do them justice. The characters who go through stages of despair, grief and anger, these are the characters the writers wanted to give you so that you understand the complexities of humans through fictional characters. They want to send you a deeper message than just this evil character who wants revenge. It's more complicated than that.

So let's get into the topic and why I made this post:

First Caitlyn never wanted to kill the child to get to Jinx. You never saw a character who was controlled by anger. Caitlyn saw nothing in front of her except Jixn, the person who completely destroyed her life. She became obsessed with Jinx in the same way that Jinx was obsessed with Caitlyn. Let's take another example of an angry and vengeful character, which is the character Ellie in tlou2. We saw her literally kill everyone in front of her to get to Abby. She even went as far as to kill Lev if Abby didn't fight her. Anger and sadness are emotions that are difficult to control. These emotions are what control the person.

And The Big Problem is no one hated Ellie back then, huh?? So why Caitlyn now 😑

But the sad thing for Caitlyn is that unfortunately the demon Ambessa is in the picture and she will definitely play an important role in changing Caitlyn's personality. Of course, as is known, Ambessa will benefit from Hex weapons and other things for her personal goals.

Another thing that caused Caitlyn to lose her mind was when Vi accidentally compared Cait to the person who killed her mother and had been trying to kill her multiple times. And Jinx had killed many people in Piltover more than once. All of these things came together on Caitlyn until she completely lost control of herself.

Bc in the end it is her city and she has the right to defend it and defend her people.

So honestly I don't blame Caitlyn, I'm not saying what she did was right, but AGAIN Vi unintentionally compared her to the person who killed her mother and caused her a lot of suffering, as Jinx kidnapped her, tortured her, and tried to kill her several times.

(Imagine someone comparing you to the person who killed your mother and ruined your life)

And in the end Caitlyn will realize her mistake and try to fix it and she will know that Ambessa was manipulating her all the time, and she will know that she is the cause of most of the problems in Piltover.

I'm sure Caitlyn's redemption arc will right all the wrongs she's done and will make up for everything to the Zaun people and Vi.

And mark my words, bc Caitlyn is the only character who knows the problems that exist in Zaun and surely after she gets rid of her anger that is eating her from the inside, she will do the right thing bc that is the core of the Caitlyn that we knew in season 1.

So please trust the writers and don't rush to judge characters until we see how they end first.

[vigilante24ish]

SPOILERS for whomever has not seen KAOS!

I was quite surprised with how the Gods looked in the series, in terms of body physique. I mean, almost all the time anyone considered a God (especially Greek one) would be depicted as young or with a very fit and well sculptured body.

Yet in Kaos, that is not the case; especially for the Big Three (Zeus, Poseidon & Hades). They are old, they are not fit and generally I believe fits so well with the idea.

The gods have become lazy, they have let themselves go while laying back and watching people worship them for millennial. Plus, I do believe it also signals how they are past their prime.

They are no longer as powerful as they used to be. Time has slowly catch up with them, a nice metaphor related to their eventful doom and end of their reign.

[skeletoninthemelonland]

"The Exocannis Ressurection"