#you can love man of steel

[spyskater]

"It looks like a CW show."

No. No, it doesn't. And CW shows don't all look like what you think they do.

Y'all have got to learn what a color grade is and stop associating vibrancy with "childish". You're not mature for liking your movies to look desaturated. Superman is supposed to be colorful.

[relic-seeker]

before pride month ends anyone wanna become a gay bug with me /joke

[heres-someart]

He said he loved me, and it was like a dream

Click for better detail. ID under cut. Reblogs are better than likes

ID:

A digital drawing of Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev, both in profile. Nureyev has his hand on Juno's face, bringing it up. Their faces are near each other but not quite touching. Peter is seen from the shoulders up and Juno from the neck up. Juno is a black person who wears a dark eyepatch. Peter is an asian man and is wearing a sheer red shirt. He has on dark red lipstick. His mouth is open slightly, making his sharp canine teeth visible

End ID

[sweet-as-petrichor]

Okay, this is a ramble, but hear me out.

I've never been a Supes girl - the goody two shoes attitude was always off putting for me. My foray into DC was mostly restricted to Christian Bale's Batman and the occasional glimpses of Wonder Woman.

But then I watched Justice League and I was like - oh, the angsty superbat fanfiction potential is strong in this one.

Then I read all the superbat fanfiction I could find, and I started appreciating Superman in a vague, he's good to associate with Batman kind of way.

Today, I finally watched Man of Steel ( I know, I'm late) and oh boy, oh boy. I get it.

Henry Cavill' Superman. He's just a man and he is so much more. The simmering rage, the barely restrained violence writ in every line of his body. The clench of his jaw and the constant spark of defiance and power in his eyes. The way he holds himself with the ease of a man who knows he's the most powerful guy in the room.

And at the heart of it all, he's still a good man. More human than most people he shares the earth with. Ready to lay his life on the line, but he'll be damned if anyone tries to tell him what to do.

I can see injustice happening. All it would take to set this Superman off is one wrong move, and all his carefully maintained control would just snap. A slow smirk, the casual tilt of his neck and a flash of those pure blue eyes would be the last thing this world would see before it all turned red.

[vanalex]

[itspileofgoodthings]

remember when you hit the brakes too soon! twenty stitches in a hospital room! when you started crying baby I did too! but when the sun came up I was looking at you!

[vaguely-concerned]

I was just ambushed within the turbulent halls of my own mind by some headcanons about rye ingellvar's childhood that did 15000000 points of psychic damage to me and my heart personally and also made me almost sure of how I want to play it all at the end (very very differently from how I imagined going in!). some 'oh holy fuck this changes everything' rocking my own world bullshit going on in my neurons right now I'm reeling

[hauntingblue]

ARCANE EPISODE 7!!!!

MY GOD I WASNT READY FOR ANY OF THIS!!! WHAT WAS THAT!!!

Also ekko wallpaper I got with my fries lmao

[supurman]

this is how it felt being a superman fan during bvs + injustice era

[waugh-bao]

Charlie: Actually, I prefer to be on the floor, but then equipment starts moving. It depends on what the floor's made of. Sometimes you're playing with one foot trying to reach a bass drum that keeps slipping away, and that's the hardest thing in the world. The one thing I don't like about drum risers- especially if they get really high like the enormous one Ringo used to play on--when they get that big you can't see everybody else. I don't like that.

Interviewer: It's like being separated.

Charlie: Yeah. I don’t like that.

(Modern Drummer, November 1981)

[ask-the-sexyman-squad]

To the Squad!

Who do you prefer out of your parents? Mom or dad?

//TW: blurring and glitching images, mentions of death, vent-ish. Mod is alright! She's just processing some familial things :) carry on!!//:

...she'll be fine...maybe.

//BONUS//:

[cashewally-sarcastic]

Ventus, who has spent days on the streets of Old Mondstadt listening to the voices of the people. Who has silently watched as parents take care of their young. Watch kids escort their aunts to the stores. The wind around him is so cold

He plays his lyre. Its the only thing he has on him. He would rather die than say where he acquired it, and at the end of the day its his lyre.

Ventus closes his eyes. For the breifedt moment he couldn't hear the deafening gales around him. He is in the eye of the hurricane. What song is he even playing? He switched from one track to the other minutes ago and was now improvising a solo.

The families are still talking to each other.

At the end of the day, he is just background music

.

Then one day a creature bumps into him. Radiating the same warmth as a prayer and eyes akin to his god's. Was it a spy? Was it a child? Was it a puppet?

Wearily, he asks for a name. Smiling as he tells the sprite how he wishes to make ballads of the little thing. It flutters around him, occassionally stumbling in mid air like its drunk. It gives out a little squeak as it gestures to itself.

Ventus tries to mimic that chime, but his mouth can't hit the same notes. The sprite speaks more and more, yet Vrntus can't understand a thing. He just smiles and nods as he subconsciously plays his lyre.

Before he knows it, he can feel the chill of night. Or at least what he thinks it night. The elders of the city tell what night is supposed to be, but the winds had carried away those voices a long time ago.

Tales of an object called the moon. How it would shift as the weeks go by. How it could disappear and be reborn once anew- surrounded by her starry sisters.

Night.

He hated it.

He hates how cold it is. How dark it is. How every candle and life is snuffed by the wind.

Yet the creature is still hear, making a nest on his lap.

Its warm.

Letting go of his lyre for just a breif moment, he runs his fingers down the cloak of the sprite. Soft yet smooth. Was this what a bird felt like?

Tomorrow would be another day. Tomorrow he could try to pronounce his ... freind's name better. Tomorrow he could do so much.

Despite the being being on his lap, he felt a warmth in his chest. Something he has never felt before. Something that made him think of protecting this creature.

Ventus rests his eyes as he carries his first friend, unware he would do this everynight til the day he died

*cheers and applause amid tears and sobs*

MAN that was NOT was I was thinking about sad wise but FUCK that hurts

[ileftherbackhome]

it does NOT surprise me that there are SO MANY tabloid movies coming out being labelled as "documentaries" filled with "friend of a friend of a friend" claims or like heavily, heavily, heavily biased with a clear narrative the filmmaker wanted to push from the beginning that tells only one possible explanation of the truth.

usually if a documentary is trying really, really, really, really hard to make you think a certain way, it's a propaganda piece. you shouldn't have to force feed your audience the "right" opinion to take away from the film evidence. you should present the full story as accurately as possible with real historical evidence to back up the storyline and the audience will walk away with the right idea.

documentaries should not have an overly persuasive tone to them because you should be able to follow the facts to get to the right answer yourself. if you find yourself walking away from a documentary feeling nothing but "wow this proves exactly what i suspected to be true why arent more people angry about niche radicalizing viewpoint that most people find to be inaccurate" you should recognize that as the first step to being indoctrinated into extremist behaviors and thoughts.

[idiotsonlyevent]

i find it endlessly fascinating that the Big Bads for most of thriller bark are 1. guy who sexually assaults/harasses women + tries to force nami to marry/kiss him and 2. guy who objectifies cindry so hard that he brings her back to life as an obedient zombie. we're not supposed to agree/sympathize with them in ANY capacity, so it initially comes off as a very basic 'objectification of women is bad' kind of deal.... except thriller bark also has sanji, who's side we are supposedly on, doing. well. all of That. 🤨

maybe thats part of the 'issue' w one piece sexism where it tries to stand against the objectification of women but can't seem to (or maybe even doesn't doesn't want to) recognize that sexualization also contributes to objectification? 🤔 potentially even going so far as to see sexualization of women as positive? 🤔 because women are hot! right? :) so why shouldn't we talk about it/show it? right? (proceeds to do it in a way that doesn't treat women with the same respect or autonomy as men) idk.

[renegadeontherunn]

HELL. FUCKING. YES.

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.