Tumgik
#or this one! i liked the rivals one>:)
lokh · 4 months
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(not) recognising the self in the other...
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sbeana · 1 year
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the pool scene
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ruubesz-draws · 3 months
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Later...
(Shimo is a prankster)
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Ghidorah every time Godzilla gets a new enemy.
True frienemies right there!
I was going to make a Godzilla animatic of this exact scene but discarded the idea later (wasn't sure whether we were allowed to use the audio without getting a copyright strike idk)
I LOVE the Mickey Mouse Shorts lol
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wildflowercryptid · 4 months
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that one part from indigo disk, but make it even MORE dramatic
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valc0 · 5 days
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dantelionwishes · 1 year
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clavell asks player who his crush is (speaking of, where's clive?)
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'hm? oh yeah ofc my internal compass led us to u'
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soni-dragon · 1 month
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ive seen a couple pokemon character color wheels around so i tried one with some of my favorites!
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kagooleo · 6 months
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my main reasoning for timeskip!silv having long hair is for the sole purpose of dragon baby storage
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the modern pokeworld’s medusa if you will
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kana7o · 1 month
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All they have is each other
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ohwarnette · 6 months
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i am coming to love him, in two different ways. face to face, and word to word.
happy birthday dais @lorenlily
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puppetmaster13u · 5 months
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Prompt 115
“Seriously old man?” the rumbling voice nearly caused Tim to jump, his eyes darting away from where Ras was sitting, the Al Ghul almost seeming to perk. It was kind of hard to miss the man… teen… being? It was kind of hard to miss the owner of the voice what with how their hair looked like it was on fire. 
They motioned around at well, everything, crimson eyes looking exasperated. “Really?” They were definitely motioning towards him, interrupting Ras when he opened his mouth to talk. “No, I don’t want to hear it, I swear- Did he kidnap you?” That was definitely aimed at him. 
“N-no?” Tim was feeling slightly unbalanced and may be on hour sixty without sleep at this point, if the hour long nap was counted. “I need help finding my not-dad who's lost in time.” 
The being let out a strangled noise that Tim could nearly swear was almost another one, but couldn’t vocalize his slurred thoughts as the dude muttered something, motioning around as though he was tempted to strangle something or someone. 
Ras cleared his throat, looking almost awkward which was how Tim knew he had to be dreaming or drugged. Probably drugged. “Jordan, how good to see you, it’s been so long-”
“Can it Pops,” the being-named-Jordan scoffed, finger pointing towards the Demon’s Head. “Moms still pissed and isn’t coming back any time soon with you still pulling this shit.” 
Tim felt his brain stall, process for a moment, then process some more over what he just heard before his mouth ran before it could catch up. “Ras is married???” 
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15-lizards · 7 months
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Westerosi-sonas are so funny like. I’m gonna input myself into the most crapsack world ever. I’m gonna reform the canon so I can imagine myself as the minor lord of a shitty keep. This is Harlan he got sent to the wall for sodomy and lost all of his toes to frostbite. Here’s Aenon he was murdered like saint Sebastian during the blackfyre rebellions. Wynnafred is a repressed lesbian married into the riverlands ofc and will fall in love with a tomboy daughter of a high lord before dying of Woman in ASOIAF Disease
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phantom-0-writer · 7 months
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prompt 01: gotham academy's mentorship program
“Mr. Wayne, thank you so much for finding the time to meet with me.” Principal Carson, someone Bruce, became more and more familiar with as the years passed, welcomed him into his office. 
“I hope my children aren’t causing you too much trouble, Mr. Carson.” Bruce chuckled lightly, sitting in the guest seat. 
“After your generous donations to the school, I would find that difficult to believe.” Mr. Carson laughed conversationally, before getting right to business. “Actually, the reason I wanted to meet with you in person rather than over the phone despite, I’m sure, your busy schedule was to discuss Damian.” 
Damian had come to the Manor about a year and a half ago, and had been attending Gotham Academy for almost 9 months. Bruce had hoped that going to school with other kids his age would help Damian become more sociable and learn about larger society outside of the Bat, Birds, and League, but that was proving to be difficult considering the almost regular calls Alfred received from the school about Damian’s behavior or actions. 
Bruce couldn’t help the weary sigh that escaped him, “I assure you Principal Carson, we-” 
“I think you're misunderstanding, Mr. Wayne. Damian is not in any kind of trouble.” Mr. Carson reassured, “Well, for now that is.” He chuckled dryly. 
“Ah.” Bruce nodded, letting his airhead persona take the lead, while still showing that he was paying careful attention. 
“In the last few years, Gotham Academy started a mentorship program, where the younger kids usually between the grades of 5-8 can get mentored by their seniors. Damian is a brilliant child, concerningly so I believe. His peers often can’t keep up with him in terms of academics, but he lags far behind them in social skills. I think Damian would benefit from the mentorship program, where he can have someone who can truly keep up with him intellectually as well as guide him socially.” Mr. Carson explained. 
Bruce considered this, letting the idea turn over in his mind. Perhaps this is what Damian would need. “You sound like you have someone in mind.” 
“I believe the best candidate for the job would be Daniel Fenton.” Mr. Carson handed him the student profile. “He’s here on a Wayne Scholarship, which he’s held for the past year. Mr. Fenton is currently in the 11th grade, his chosen career path is astrophysics, which he plans to pursue into college. His grades are outstanding despite his difficult classes, and his professors all share the same sentiment that Mr. Fenton holds one of the greatest minds in the Academy. He shares many of the same classes with Tim as well. He has a friendly personality and gets along well with most people, pretty athletically inclined as well. All around Mr. Fenton is what Gotham Academy hopes our student to be.” 
Bruce looked over the profile in his hand. Daniel James Fenton seemed like an outstanding student. Perhaps it was time to put him to the test with Damian Wayne. 
---
When Danny had been called to the office, because apparently they had assigned him a mentee, he had been expecting the worst. All the scholarship students had to sign up for the mentorship program to be on standby if a mentee ever applied. All the other scholarship kids had said it was just a formality and that none of them ever got called for it. But classic Fenton Luck. 
When Danny walked into Principal Carson’s office he was prepared to be faces with some snot-nosed brat who wouldn’t know how to take no for an answer and didn’t care about classes because they would just inherit their parents big shot company was what he was expecting. 
So imagine his surprise when he walks into a room to a liminal kid, probably around 12, who looks like he wants to be there as much as Danny does. Danny takes one look at the kid who’s trying to project himself as angry and menacing, but Danny could easily read the kid's true emotions of nervous-scared-anxious thanks to their shared less-alive-than-one-would-expect status. 
“Daniel, welcome. This is Damian Wayne. He’ll be your new mentee from now on.” Mr. Carson smiled kindly, gesturing for Danny to sit down. The liminal kid - Damian - scowled at him, projecting irritation. But all Danny could feel off of him was nervousness.
Danny was screwed, wasn’t he?
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table of contents
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wildflowercryptid · 3 months
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some miscellaneous kieflo doodles i've done recently
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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months
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Lance gets red around him a lot.
It’s strange.
It’s different from when they first started. (First met? Keith’s not sure. Lance is so insistent that they’ve known each other since they were twelve, but Keith thinks he’d recognise someone like Lance, someone who smiled that brightly and laughed so loud. But he doesn’t, and he doesn’t understand why he doesn’t, so he doesn’t think about it. He pretends in his head that they met saving Shiro and that’s that.) When they first started learning each other (that’s a better way to put it), Lance went red all the time, but Keith knew exactly what that was about, could read the hard set of his jaw and the anger making his dark eyes steely. Sometimes he would grin to himself and make the flush on Lance’s cheeks deepen on purpose; say something incendiary and challenging in the most casual one of voice he could manage, just to watch how furious he got, how indignance straightened his spine and squared his shoulders and made his cheeks glow.
He called Lance Rudolph, once, and he went ballistic. It was the first time he ever won a spar of theirs, and half of that was because Keith was laughing too hard to breathe. To this day no one believes Lance when he insists it happened. (Keith does feel bad about that, a little. Everyone seems to think it was just Lance who egged Keith on in the beginning, just Lance who purposely made things difficult, but Keith is grown enough now to admit that he had as much fun pissing Lance off as anyone else would. Well, grown enough to admit it in his head.)
Keith still makes Lance go red all the time, now. The issue is that he doesn’t know how he does it.
They still compete. Obviously. It’s fun and it’s easy and Keith is a fan of things that are fun and easy. That’s why he’s into demolitions. And pod racing.
But the competition no longer has that flare of genuine rage. Lance himself had admitted it, sniffing pompously after a late night spar and informing Keith that he had, apparently, “sucked all the fun out of hating by being endearing or whatever”. He also mentioned something about Keith’s “stupid fucking big round pouty eyes and depressing backstory”, but Keith doesn’t know what to make of that so he shoves it back into the recesses of his mind like many other things, including the first time someone other than his Pa said they loved him, Shiro’s safety lectures, and any and all calculus lessons he has ever sat through.
(It’s a mess back there.)
Keith, too, can admit that the animosity is gone. He no longer wakes up and hears Lance’s voice and considers drop kicking him into a black hole. Sometimes he even hears Lance’s voice and realises he’s smiling on reflex. Now he and Lance hang out. Voluntarily, and a lot. They spar. They swim. They harass Hunk. They harass Pidge. They harass Shiro. They harass all their friends, really. Sometimes Lance uses manoeuvres he’s learnt in sparring to pin Keith to the ground and force weird products onto his face and hair, dodging Keith’s attempts to bite him, preaching about their cleansing qualities or whatever. Sometimes Keith even does it without hissing and generally being a nuisance.
Sometimes Keith follows Lance quietly to the observation, late at night, and sits with him while he cries. He can’t decide how he feels about those nights. He’s not sure if he’s allowed to think about them outside of when they happen.
In all of this, though, Lance’s ruddy face has stayed pretty common. Keith can excuse it when they’re sparring, because it’s admittedly a lot of cardio, but at the same time Keith doesn’t get that red and he’s way paler than Lance is. He can almost kind of excuse it when they swim, for the same reasons.
He doesn’t get it any other times, though. He doesn’t know why Lance goes red at the most innocuous things, like when Keith tells him his hair smells good or his laugh is pretty or he’s actually really good at that nerdy math game Pidge likes, holy crow, I didn’t know you were that kind of smart. Nerd. He doesn’t understand why Lance goes red when he trips and Keith catches him, ‘cause he’s a big klutz, you’d think he’d be used to it by now (it’s not like Keith is going to let him fall. Well, usually not). He doesn’t get why Lance goes red when Keith compliments him in training, because usually when Lance gets complimented he gets a big head about it and preens for an hour.
It’s just strange.
Mostly, though, it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe Lance is just a blushy kind of person. He’s taken to teasingly calling Lance Red, because it’s better than Rudolph, and also because Lance goes scarlet every time he says it, so it’s kind of like he’s a wizard who can make Lance flush on command. Which is cool. Other than that Keith mostly just pretends it doesn’t happen. They hang out too much for Keith to bother. If he questioned it every time, he would go bananas.
“You have icing smeared on your face,” Keith comments on one such hanging out occasion. (They’re plundering the kitchen for the cupcakes Hunk made and specifically forbade them from touching. But Hunk allegedly broke into Lance’s room last week and stole the last of his toner, whatever the hell that is, so fair’s fair.)
Lance pops the last of the cupcake into his mouth then turns to face him. “Where?”
“Here,” Keith says, tapping the left side of his own chin.
Lance, like a dumbass, makes a swiping motion on the left side of his face, instead of mirroring where Keith touched. He misses the icing entirely.
“Left side,” Keith says, exasperatedly.
Lance scowls at him. “That is the left side.”
“No — the other left.”
“There is no other left! There’s only one left!”
Rolling his eyes, Keith reaches over to wipe the icing off for him. There cannot be any evidence on them, after all. When Hunk has a conniption over his missing cupcakes they must play the plausible deniability card so they can snicker about it later.
He swipes his thumb under Lance’s bottom lip, trying to scrape the icing off with his thumbnail. Lance inhales sharply.
“Sorry,” Keith murmurs, softening his grip. He must have scratched him. The icing didn’t come off, though, so he switches tactics and slides off the counter, shifting so he’s standing in between Lance’s open legs and cradling Lance’s cheek in his palm to tilt his head. He rubs his thumb much softer on the stubborn streak of whipped sugar, and that works a little better. He keeps rubbing until finally Lance’s skin is clear, all the half-dried icing now spread on the pad of Keith’s thumb. He licks it off without thinking.
It’s sweet.
Lance makes a strained whimpering noise. Keith flicks his gaze up to meet his face again and is less surprised than he should be to see a flush glowing across his cheekbones, making his freckles seem much darker than they are. His pupils are dilated so wide they nearly swallow up the brown of his irises, and Keith can’t tell if he’s looking at him or through him.
He sighs heavily. “Dude, do you have a condition?”
It takes Lance a long moment to answer. By the time he finally does, his gaze has moved firmly to his lap, neck bent so that Keith can’t really see his face. His ears are still read.
“I’ve got a fuckin’ heart condition,” he mutters.
Keith furrows his eyebrows. That’s weird. He’s seen Lance’s medical scans before — he’s in the pods a lot. You’d think that kind of thing would be on there.
“It doesn’t show up on your med scans,” Keith points out. “Is it, like, a genetic thing?”
Slowly, Lance picks his head back up, squinting at him for several long moments. Keith begins to squirm.
“You’re actually slow,” Lance says with an almost awed tone of voice. Which is mean. “Like, genuinely, actually slow. I think there are bubbles in your brain.”
“Hey,” Keith protests, pouting. “I help you commit cupcake heists, and this is how you treat me?”
Instead of answering, Lance continues to stare at him. He almost looks bewildered, which does nothing but make Keith more confused.
Eventually he lets out a long, tired sigh. It is not the first time Keith has heard that sigh. That is a sigh he hears when Shiro finds him throwing up his guts after eating a tub of ice cream out of spite. That’s the kind of sigh he hears from Allura when Keith ignores instructions and boulders through the shocks from the invisible maze to get it done faster. That’s the sigh that says I wish I had a trebuchet to strap you to it and release you into the sun. Keith is very familiar with that sigh, although he usually makes it happen on purpose, or at the very least understands how it’s warranted.
Right now he is completely lost.
“I am going to go bother Coran,” Lance says finally, pushing himself off the counter and walking towards the door. “You are not invited. I will talk to you when I want to strangle you less. Goodbye.”
“Bye,” Keith calls out, head tilted in confusion. He watches Lance go until he disappears down the hallways.
“He is so confusing,” he announces to no one, then walks out the kitchen himself.
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