#it works more often than not

[nessa007]

flixflare is a life saver! it has so many tv shows and movies and it’s free!

[saebaragi]

I missed changing my tumblr layout in a attempt to feel something

[hinamie]

*catboys ur shounen protag*

[larkiethings]

LET THE CROSS STITCH HIT THE FLOOR

[prlssprfctn]

I've been brewing this post for far too long in my drafts, but I need more doomed!Bruce and Jason throughout universes. And it is not even always about the same Jaybin, dying in the warehouse scenarios!

Sometimes Jason is just a kid, who died in front of Batman, who maybe jumped in between Batman and the villain recklessly, to keep him safe, and whose blood stuck under Bruce's nails. His face haunts him in nightmares, still.

In other realities, Bruce meets Jason as a teen, and they never even get to become father and son officially - but they slowly get into each other's lives, until something awful happens, leaving a ghost of a smirking kid stroll behind Bruce's hunched figure for the rest of his life.

Or maybe it is one of these realities, where Jason crawls out of the Alley Crime himself, and manages to become famous in Gotham; the one, where he opens a charity fond, dedicated to people, who fight with the drug addiction. Bruce Wayne is sympathetic of a kid he meets during some of the events, and as they slowly start contacting each other more often, getting closer, he promises himself to protect him. Expect, Batman is late to save Jason Todd from the hands of yet another villain.

It could be the priest Jason Todd that meets bleeding out Batman on the stairs of the church, and who helps him out, for what he later pays with his life. Or they are not really vigilantes in any of these universes - just father and son.

And in some of these universes, they reconcile. In one of them, some of the medics connect the dots that a catatonic boy, who is covered in dirt, calling for his dad, for Bruce is Bruce's Wayne dead son, and try calling him. In another, LoA!Jason with his memory still being in a haze, crosses his path with Batman, before getting dipped in the Lazarus Pit.

But the point stands.

In all of them, Bruce Wayne is too late. In all of them, Bruce Wayne fails to save Jason Todd.

[dailymanners]

If you give someone a ride home, or walk someone home, don't leave or drive away until you see them get inside and close the door behind them. Make sure you see to it that they get fully get inside safely before you leave.

This also applies to temporary residences, such as a hotel, airbnb, dormitories, ect.

Seeing to it that they fully make it inside safely isn't just about fear of something as drastic as an assault or a mugging. It would also be awfully annoying and stressful for them if they lost their key, and before realizing they're locked out their ride or walking companion has already sped off, so now they're stuck outside alone with nowhere else to go, and possibly a dead phone (when it rains it pours). Or maybe there's dangerous fauna in the area. Or maybe the neighbor's poorly trained dog with aggression issues is loose. Or maybe they slip and hurt themselves while walking to the door.

Even if you're absolutely positive they'll make it to the door safely, it's still a kind and thoughtful gesture to let them know that you care enough about their safety to see to it that they make it inside safely.

[guiltbugs-tomtord-artclub]

Hey I love your art! Mayhaps you could draw some wholesome cuddles? (You don't gotta if you don't wanna btw!)

Sure thing!

[moving-to-dreamwinged]

one time on another platform when i was super new to self shipping i was like. how can you believe your f/o loves you back? and someone replied “don’t they bring you comfort? that is their love for you”

[phrysic]

warmup sketch that turned into a doodle

[jakeperalta]

"industry plant" is literally just the new way of saying "this female artist is having a lot of success and I don't like her for it".... like ok well personally I just don't find it that hard to believe that young women can be talented and work hard and achieve things

[2isted-chocol8-art]

Yeah. Um. Can't explain myself on this one chat

-> More Outer Wilds Art!

[secriden]

Everyone in the tags calling Style swagless and rizzless, but can I just raise the counterpoint that the second he actually tried to be seductive, Fadel folded like the wet tissue paper he had to use to clean himself up afterwards.

[leathfaic]

My favourite hot take is that Simon adapts way better to being a civilian than Johnny does.

Johnny went and left for the army the second he could do so, relentlessly pushed his career and is, most likely, rarely not on base unless he's been told to fuck off or move his arse home (by either his superiors or family).

Simon on the other hand finished school and then took up an apprenticeship before joining the army. Even then he came home, took prolonged leave to help his family out. He spent way more time just living that reality. And even post Roba he was at home for a while before everything went to hell. He might not take a lot of leave since, because he has nothing to come home to, but he still knows to adjust to it.

If they take leave together Ghost settles remarkably well, still keeping an eye open but he's an adult who had time outside the forces to properly adjust to life.

Soap struggles. He gets by with his charm and bright blue eyes, and that's a good thing because he's too explosive, too intense for most normal social interactions.

He's caught somewhere between the 18 year old boy and the hardened SAS soldier and never spent enough time away to really grow into just John MacTavish. Not Sergeant, not Soap, not the FNG. Just him as a person outside of the military.

He navigates this part of his life like its a minefield. Making it through but boy oh boy, it's not looking graceful.

Ghost helps him mellow out in that regard, pointing out the messy weird mechanics of normal civilan life to him. Teaches him to enjoy that and not let his job ruin him. Simon who knows how quickly it can all fall apart can't help to see the beauty in the peace most people get to experience. He'll be damned if he can't share that beauty Johnny. Even if it's always just for a little while.

And because it's Ghost, who never steered him wrong Soap let's himself be led. Allows himself experiences outside of work and his family. And while he might not be eager to admit it, it makes him a better person.

And years down the line when they both made it out, last mission just one too many that was too close for comfort, all of that helps John MacTavish to adjust. Sure he mourns his life in the military, someone like him is bound to, but he's not too worried. He knows how to get by now. And even the days where he feels very out of his depth, he can approach with ease. Because he still has Simon at his side to show him the way forward.

[beastsovrevelation]

Captured Angel

Michael Langdon x F!Angel!Reader

Contains: vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, elements of coercion, implied loss of virginity, blasphemy, hierophilia

“Good, you’re awake.”

A chill ran down your spine. You had awakened in an unfamiliar room. Your head ached, your wings hung limp, and your limbs were heavy. The air was soaked to the last thread in malice. It made you nauseous. Gritting your teeth, you dragged yourself up, your mind aflame with a single thought – you had to get out. You looked around, but before you could spot a way of escape, you felt a presence. Dark... Darker than the blackest night. Your heart froze in your chest, a taste of iron suddenly coating your tongue. Though you had not seen his face, you could recognize him anywhere. Seven heads. Ten horns. His honeyed voice left a cold, oily trace on your very soul as he spoke. You drew a deep breath, and spun around, to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes.

His lips crooked into a smirk. Holding your gaze, he moved towards you. You drew back.   

“Get away from me, filthy Beast...” you snarled.

Deep down, you loathed yourself for the instinctive reaction. You were a soldier. You had a duty to stand your ground, and instead, you cowered. He promptly crossed the gap between you two.

“Ah-ah!” he scolded, clasping your chin “That’s not very nice, now, is it?..”

You grimaced. Michael Langdon. How ironic, for Satan’s son to bear your General’s name. The one who cast him out... You hoped it hurt the Evil One greatly. Michael caressed your cheek. You winced, and pushed his hand away. Sneering, he grabbed you by the throat.  

“Why am I here?” you hissed through gritted teeth.

He glanced down at your heaving chest.

“You’re my captive” he purred “Isn’t it obvious?”

You swallowed. Struggling would only worsen your chances, you knew as much. His gaze darkened with hunger as he watched you – like a wolf, salivating at a wounded deer. Your guts had coiled into a tight knot, a sickly sweet taste coating your mouth.

“Why didn’t your bootlickers kill me?” you asked, not quite certain if you wished to know the answer.

A chuckle escaped his lips. The Antichrist’s lecherous expression made your blood boil. How dare the abomination touch an angel of the Lord, you thought. A strange sensation was budding between your legs, but you pointedly ignored it, just as you ignored the feeling of unease clawing at the back of your skull.   

“That would’ve been a waste...” Michael tilted his head “They thought a gift would please me. They weren’t wrong...”

You snarled, attempting to pull away.

“Get your putrid hands off me!”

He tightened his grip on your neck.

“Hush” he coaxed in a mockingly gentle voice “I’m not going to hurt you, angel.”

“Vile creature...” you spat.

He pulled you closer. You bared your teeth, as your face almost crashed into his. Though you did not need air, the pressure on your throat was beginning to make you dizzy. Every nerve in your body screamed to fight - your muscles   had tensed, prepared for combat. You might have broken away. Escaped this unholy place. You should have at least tried... But, perhaps because of the mist gathering over your mind, your legs trembled underneath you. You found yourself staring at his mouth. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and silken. Your pulse leapt into a frenzy.

Michael snuck his other hand under your clothes. The captors had stripped you of your armour, and taken away your sword, leaving only your linen tunic to cover you. His fingertips caressed your thigh, slowly creeping upwards. You held your breath as you felt him part the soft folds of your skin.

You had never been fondled like this before. Carnal pleasure was forbidden for your kind. You should be disgusted, you understood as much. Still, the electric-like impulse roused by his touch paralyzed you, preventing you from breaking his arm.

He stroked your entrance. You stifled a gasp, your intimate muscles tightened in anticipation. Your hole was beginning to well with slick. Taking your lack of resistance for a welcome, he slipped two fingers inside you. The feeling of his skin against your sensitive membrane made your head spin, and you barely held back from bucking your hips into his hand.

He let go of your neck, only to wrap his arm around your waist. Keeping you steady, he spread his fingers wider, straining you until it hurt. You shuddered. He massaged the velvety walls of your flesh, driving you to the edge of madness. Aware of how much satisfaction hearing your cries would give him, you clenched your jaw. His skin grazed against a certain knot of nerves, and you nearly sunk to the ground as your legs buckled from the bolt of stimulation. Still, somehow, you did not make a sound.

It only made Michael more determined. He fixated on your sweet spot, leaving you to desperately clutch the lapels of his jacket. His mouth lingered but a thread away from yours - you felt his heartbeat echo against your rib cage. He narrowed his eyes, and pressed his thumb to your clit. Overwhelmed, you drew a sharp breath.

“Enjoying yourself, aren’t you?..” he teased “What is it, my dear? What do you want, hm?”

He pushed a third finger into your dripping slit. You whined in pleasure muddled with despair.

“Speak up, angel” he demanded.

Virtue be damned. Something tameless had infected you. Caught in the furor of sin, you eagerly cast your innocence aflame.

“I...” you stammered “I want... I need you to ravish me...”

Michael threw you onto the bed, and climbed on top of you. Laying flat on your back, your wings sprawled open, you looked up at him, your eyes sweetly half-lidded. His knee shoved between your thighs, he ripped the front of your tunic open. You sighed as cold air brushed against your nipples. He placed his hands on your breasts, savouring the softness of your bare skin. His eyes aflame with lust, he took a moment to admire your flushed, helpless body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed your chest into his touch. He grabbed you by the throat again.

“You’re mine” he snarled “Mine alone...”

Against your better judgement, you nodded. Your gaze wandered down to his crotch, causing your mouth to immediately water. Michael’s lips crooked into a sleazy smirk. He unbuckled his pants, and slipped his underwear down. Your eyes widened as his hard cock sprung free. Large, but not obscenely so. You pulled the skirt of your tunic up, leaving your aching cunt at his mercy.

He pinned you down under his full weight. You wrapped your arms around him, savouring the feel of luxurious fabric under your fingers. Like an animal in heat, you craved to feel him inside. His eyes locked with yours, Michael clasped your leg, and positioned himself more comfortably. You blindly caught hold of his member, helping guide it into your hole.

Your heart skipped a beat – you let out a moan as your membranes clamped around him. Hardly giving you a moment to adjust, he began to move. The sudden strain roused a twinge, but it soon was obscured by shattering pleasure. No longer holding back your mewls and whimpers, you sank your nails into his back. Should the expensive suit get ruined, it will be his fault.

Michael groaned, his teeth bared in primal satisfaction. Your response only encouraged him, and he quickly picked up the pace. Each thrust sent a shattering wave of pleasure through your fevered nerves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, welcoming them. He traced the tip of his tongue over your neck. You hissed as his long hair tickled you, overwhelming your senses even more. He purred, and nipped at your jaw.

“Kiss me” you demanded.

He obeyed, leaning down to press his mouth against yours. You parted your lips for him, and allowed your tongues to battle for dominance.

“Say my name” he ordered, upon pulling away.

“I can’t...” you gasped in horror.

“Your general isn’t here...” he growled “It’s just you and me...” he pressed his face to your temple “Say my name, sweetheart. Show the Beast how much you’re enjoying your downfall.”

He pulled his cock almost all the was out, then slammed it back in, roughly grazing your sweet spot. Your cried out, and sank your fingers into his hair. You didn’t want to think about her. You loathed to imagine her disappointment in you. But his presence eclipsed her face. Drowned it in the storm of ecstasy ravaging you.

“Michael!”

“Good girl” he praised with a grin.

Shock after shock of ecstasy tore through your body, setting every cell of it aflame. Your forehead was laced in sweat. Your muscles quivered from the tension. You were close. Very close. Turned feral by the pleasure, he grabbed you by the wrists, thrusting into you with merciless force.

“Michael...” you moaned.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You arched your back, trembling and convulsing as a scream escaped your throat. Michael threw his head back with a snarl. You had grown painfully tight around him, prompting him to reach his own release. You felt him spill inside you – it was the strangest, most pleasant sensation  you had ever experienced.

You collapsed into the pillows, limp and gasping for breath. He slumped down on top of you. For a moment, you allowed yourself to soak in the glowing haze of bliss. But, just when he had crept off of you, and was about to pull you into his arms, you leapt up. Using his surprise for your advantage, you climbed onto him – this time, you were the one to pin him down. You caught his gaze, and drew a dagger from underneath your ruined tunic. Afraid to molest their master’s gift, the devil worshippers had missed it.

“You will find the men who captured me, crucify them, and bleed them like pigs” you growled, pressing the blade against his throat “Do you understand me, Antichrist?”

A drop of blood sept from under the metal, glowing against his milky skin in a warning.

“Yes” he murmured, as his eyes blazed with adoration.

[tiredandsleepyaf]

Ok, so let me explain why rebloging posts like these do little to nothing to assure Jews that they’ll be safe around you.

Goyim reblogging this stuff don’t typically listen to Jews (which is apparent because we’ve said stuff like this doesn’t actually do anything to help us many times) about their experiences with antisemitism or listen when Jews try to educate them on things like antisemitic dog whistles or blood libel. Most of them are way more enthusiastic about punching Nazis than they are about showing any compassion to Jews. I’d venture to guess the majority of Jewish people know that often the goyim who reblog this stuff are just out for blood and don’t give a damn about us, because we’ve seen this many times. Not to mention that the desire for a violent revolution that some leftists seem to have has led to Jewish people facing a lot of antisemitism (at their hands). I would bet that some of the people reblogging this act similar to Nazis themselves. I know at the very least the goyim rebloging this don’t listen to Jews because we’ve said many times that this sort of thing doesn’t really do anything to help us, and we’d much rather goyim call out and learn about antisemitism. Overall, it’s just very performative activism, and it’s pretty obvious that the goyim reblogging this are just doing it to try and make themselves look better, and not for the sake of Jews.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I look up slang I don't understand, almost compulsively. call it the aftermath of middle school bullies constantly trying to get me to agree to gross, sexual, or otherwise Bad statements by using unfamiliar terms. but the upshot of this is, I end up knowing far more Hep Modern Teen Lingo than one might expect me to

a lot of my coworkers do not have this same drive for Slang Knowledge

a lot of my coworkers are substantially younger than me

so please imagine: you're a 21-year-old museum docent and this latter-day Victorian Goth lady in her early 30s is patiently explaining to you what "gyatt" means after some kid wrote it on the response board for the 50th time