This is just a little detail but I love seeing Swannie's little wings puff up when he's happy/excited. Very cute ❤️❤️

HEHEHEHE THANKS <3

look ill dunk on the rise movie a little for only developing leo as a character (everyone else DID things in the plot, but their character was static/used to showcase leo’s development), i don’t deny this

but its galaxy brain to end the movie with raph center-frame and everyone chanting his name, it does the heart good. rise team slapped the top of this movie overall and said “this bad boy can fit so many important group shots with raph in the center and we love him very much” and i respect that

bonus:

Sirius: Moony, are you crying?

James: Aww you do have a heart.

Remus: Yeah that's what poor people have instead of money.

I realized i hadnt drawn Mao’s embarrassed angry face and needed to rectify that

ghostbat only has two acceptable height differences:

A) minhkhoa is like,, 5'8 or below. napoleon complex/little dog syndrome yknow

B) bruce is exactly one inch taller and it pisses minhkhoa off more than he'd ever admit

I've seen talking about how Leo was the one who was “evil” instead of Donnie, and i couldn't agree more.

Of course, I don't mean that he's evil evil. It's not that he would be a villain if his family wasn't there (well, I can see that if he was raised by Draxum. I love those AUs).

I can't see him murdering people if his brothers were away. What I do see him doing is doing whatever it takes to protect his family.

Let's put it like this. At the start of the series, Leo was more... innocent? To say it like that (they all were). He wouldn't kill anyone for his family. But, after the end of season two and even more after the movie, he came to realize the real dangers of the world they live in. He's never gotten the opportunity, but we're the circumstances right, he'd do anything for his loved ones.

At first, when he realized how he felt about that, he was pretty upset because him? Killing people? He's a faceman, and later on a leader, he can't murder anyone! But after a while, he stopped caring much about it. He knows he would go to extremes to protect his family, and he's completely okay with it.

Also, I have the headcannon that he doesn't have much empathy when it comes to other people. The ones he loves? Oh he'll do anything for them. If they need comfort, he'll give it to them. If they need a laugh, he'll make a joke. But other people? Yeah, he doesn't care about them as much as he should.

Of course, he wouldn't just let the world get destroyed if his family wasn't in danger (I do see him creating chaos everywhere if he can't find them), but when it comes to seeing people, actual individuals with their own mind, he finds that he doesn't care at all about them.

He's not a heartless monster that would ignore someone who needs his help, but he mostly does it because no matter how much stupid stuff he does, he's a decent person, not a piece of shit.

That being said, imagine someone from his family disappearing and no one being able to find them. Imagine him hearing something, a clue that could lead him to them but that it's too dark and dangerous for the others to do. Imagine him doing it on his own and finding them, to the surprise of everyone. Imagine.

Pull yourself together, man! [P1 | P2 | P3] (Patreon)

Look I don't know what the fuck antarctica is.

It's like stuff your ass ain't surviving past though

more jjk sillies bc theyre fun

official piano ref lets give it up for official piano ref wahooo!!!!

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ Sometimes all he does is stand on the roof by himself with Lyssandra 2.0 on his ears. A little musical speaker system that sings to him at his command with the touch of a button.

Cid really is looking out for him most days.

Sometimes he lays there. Sometimes not. Currently he is listening the beat that is pulsing through his ears even if the small speakers are resting just before them. Bone conduction is what Cid called it and he said he made them this way because he didn't want to risk damaging his hearing.

Currently he is tapping his feet against the stone roof as he allows himself to get lost in the rhythm. This would never be allowed under normal circumstances but that's why he runs away from the view of any who would see him and he sneaks off to a rooftop where the nine eyed beast would never dare to venture. He'll go to the clouds if he must but there is something about feeling the vibrations of the ground itself under the pads of his feet that he finds extremely comforting.

His boots have been discarded to the side so bare feet may touch the stone surface. He wants to feel life pulse through him as he moves about and sways. He just wants his body to relax. He just wants the tension to melt away. He just wants the rigid sensation that keeps his back tight to release and he just wants to feel his knuckles pop when he tries to crack them.

Maybe he'll go soak in the bath again later and just melt into a puddle of cloud while he continues to struggle with getting his mind to shut off. He's questioning every reality. He's questioning relationships. He's questioning bonds. He's questioning his place in the world and most of all he's questioning how he is ever supposed to speak his truth into the air because he doesn't want to become daunting for those around him.

He hasn't even explained it all to Rakkani but that's only because he keeps failing to find the words to do so. It's so much easier to express it God to God and he hardly has anyone in his life who fits that category. Not truly. Not in the full depth of what that means in the cosmic scale of things.

There is nary a soul in the whole of the cosmos that truly understands how he thinks and yet there is an entire handful of people who think they have the right to tell him how to do so. What do they know when speaking to a celestial? Do they really understand what he is? Do they know? Do they realize the angels they call upon high were truly the forms of his people?

It's hard to describe to them the depth of which his bone functions. There is no cure for his curse because how does one repair stardust and find the missing pieces of the heavens that have shattered out from the grand cosmos that exists within his lungs? His purpose was to serve the Universe, Salvation born while being the Universe all the same.

Starlight making up his vision as moon's blood ran through his veins. The heavens themselves stored within his lungs only to pour from his lips with a single exhale. How does he tell them? How does he ever explain to any of them exactly what he is? How the whole of an entire cosmos exists within his core and he can feel the stars themself pulse beneath his fingertips when he holds his hand to he sky...

He is not a man but something much greater. He is not a man but something much higher. He is not a man and he never was. He was only granted this form by the Celestial Mother herself so than he may better understand the world that exists around him.

The world he was born to protect.

He doesn't know how to explain to the people around him that he is a concept more than he is a man. He is a feeling more than he is a life and he is spirit of Salvation itself more than he is that of anything that can take claim to mortal flesh. He is made of stardust. He can breathe the cosmos into lungs and he can command to erupt into a fiery explosion with the mere guide of a single line drawn.

He can dance amongst the clouds. He can touch the sky. He can move mountains and he can part seas. He can send the force of the Gods back towards them with a single blow. He can discard his flesh to ascend. He can ascend into a higher being by merely playing a tune upon the orchestra of his very soul. The stars play a symphony with his life's breath as the Moon's light fills his eyes.

He can cheat death. He can dance her Danse Macabre while never missing a single beat but then slip out of her grip to slide into another. He guide the lives around him into their own Danse Macabre only to dance their piece with death herself for the rest of eternity. He can bring them salvation. He can bring them light. He can bring them hope.

Normal people can't do what he can do.

But he is hardly normal.

Even as he allows the bare pads of his feet to strike against the cold stone to a rhythm only he can hear. A pulse only he can feel. He is not a man. He not a monster. Nor a demon or a devil.

He is Salvation born to serve the very Universe herself and yet the universe all the same.

Some things are just better left unsaid. No one else would ever understand.

Turning into the joker because both of my landlords keep threatening to kick me out every single time i have a slight disagreement with them or dont do exactly what they want

Oh geez. I know I’m very behind, but late is better than never. So, I’m wishing @danni-the-puff a very happy belated birthday (almost a month later, whoops)! Rather than gifting art (since RL is cray and there’s not enough time in the day), I thought I’d do something different by combining hand-lettering, paper stars and fic recs to celebrate how amazing Danni is! Danni is a caring human and a friend who has such a bright and bubbly personality. She’s also so supportive and enthusiastic about people’s creations and she has such a way to lift people up. I first started to get to know Danni through a couple of rare pair servers (and then through Wizarding Creators Den and CoMs). I especially love seeing her Tumblr posts about writing, meta and more. She just knows her stuff, and she has such interesting insights to share about a lot of different topics. If anyone has read Danni’s fics, you’ll know she’s a long-time lover of Snarry (and rare pairs). Her writing blows me away, whether it’s fluffy, sexy, angsty, rough, or out of this world. Danni knows exactly how string words together so  they flow so smoothly and poetically, with intention and a punch. That’s such a hard thing to do, but she has that gift! While there are some tropes and things I don’t usually read, Danni’s work somehow beckons me to take the chance and discover something new (well worth it too!). Her passion for Snarry is truly amazing, and I’m reminded why a good chunk of my fandom friends are Snarry fans. Maybe we all just know how to get along; I have no idea, but I’m totally for it, especially when it comes to bonding over and delving back into old-school fandom vibes (if you had a LJ during the early 2000s, you know exactly what I’m talking about). Some of my favourite Danni fics are: >> Obscene (Snarry, E, 1.9k): Summary: Never has Severus been so wet outside of heat. It’s humiliating; obscene. A/B/O is not something I generally read, but this? Is smokin’ hot. If you want some push and pull energy, desperation and delicious smut, go read this ASAP! >> Orange Blossoms (Snarry, T, 3.5k): Summary: These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love. The way Danni uses flowers in this is so beautiful. So many subtle messages and secrets woven in and passed along, and it really does make this such a sweet story. Harry, of course, is very insistent, and he’s such a Gryffindor. >> Lover Boy at Play (Snarry, E, 4.5k, mind the tags): Summary: These are foolish times to have hope, and more foolish still to be in love. Okay, if you want a classic teacher/student fic, go read this one. It has so much packed in when it comes to feelings and sex and trying to figure a lot of things out. From bitterness to jealousy to want and tenderness, Severus definitely does through all of these emotions. Harry is Harry with his cheekiness and determination, but he’s also a real person who is open to learning (and pleasing and wanting). And when these two come together (heh), it’s turns out to be something really gorgeous. >> The Green Dress (Jegulus, E, 1.8k): Summary: Christmas is no time for sulking over lost love. Not when there is new love in a pretty green dress. The angst and cross-dressing was all I needed to go read this one. It’s sweet, sensual and sexy. And if you want something to pull your heart and break it a little, this will do it. >> A Little Taste of Wasting Time (M, Fleur/Hermione, 1.5k): Summary: “One cannot learn all from books, ‘ermione.”. I am pretty sure this was one of the first rare pair fics I’ve read of Danni’s, and I love how it’s suggestive, but there’s absolutely no sex. All the flirting and innuendo are in the dialogue, small actions and glances, and that’s enough to leave things to the imagination and make this super hot. >> ALSO: I am currently reading, Contempt (E, 20.5k, mind the tags), which was written for Snarry-a-Thon: Summary: Harry hates Snape, and he always will. (He will, won’t he?) I won’t say too much (yet), but if you’re looking for a post-war, complex love/hate fic that also has wanting, obsession (from both sides) and a lot of messy situations and feelings, give this one a read too. I’d love to know what you think, since I’m loving it so far! Check out more of Danni’s work, and give her some love for her great contributions to fandom. Danni, thanks so much for being a lovely spirit, and have an awesome day! :)

big deadly mr meow meow...

LOUD SNARLING

Finished the little too!

it turned to smut in seconds, i cannot control my own hands, ok. 18+ (implication of breeding kink or something and simon's a jealous boy)

ex-husband simon who signed the divorce papers without a fight. it'd stung, you're not gonna lie, but it needed to be done and the fact that he didn't make a big fuss about it made things easier for you physically. (emotionally you were in shambles because did he not even want to try and fight for you?)

he comes over only on the weekends when he's on leave.

he's a good father to his boys. he takes them to their softball games when he can, buys them the ice cream and takes them toy shopping.

and then there's a sharp knock at your door on a wednesday afternoon.

"simon?"

he walks in like he owns the place, which technically he does- even pays the mortgage because there's no way you would be able to afford living here with your own measly income.

"what's this the boys are tellin' me 'bout a man bein' in here?" his voice is calm, steady. but you know simon better than you know yourself, and he's furious.

"i- i'm not sure-" he swipes his hand in the air and your mouth clicks shut.

"don't lie t'me, poppet, or i'll be findin' him myself an' you really don't want tha'."

what man? there hasn't been any since the divorce! you're digging through your memories, scrambling to find what the hell he's talking about when-

"oh! it's the plumber!" you take steadying breath. "i called a plumber on sunday. i needed the kitchen sink fixed."

his dark eyes are piercing, so sharp they could cut. simon's always been a walking lie detector, and it's unnerving to be on the opposite end of that analyzing stare.

he nods imperceptibly, then flicks his gaze to behind you, over your head. "show me."

you scoff indignantly. "show you what? the bloody sink?"

simon wordlessly heads to the kitchen and his knees pop as he kneels-

he's actually checking the fucking sink.

with a grunt, he leans his head into the cabinet and twist awkwardly which is no doubt causing a familiar pain to flare up in his lower back. you can't help but wince in sympathy.

lo and behold, there's a shiny, white elbow in the middle of the rest of the dirty, scratched pipe.

he hums, and rises to his feet, closing the cabinet with his leg.

simon approaches you slowly, fingertips touching the kitchen island as he rounds it. "palms flat on the counter, sweetheart."

oh. oh you know exactly what that means, and your pussy throbs almost in reflex. months without his touch and your body still responds the same.

your protest already at the tip of your tongue, almost involuntarily because principles, but he sees right through you, as he's always done.

"jus' a reward for all o' your hard work. takin' care o' the boys is a stressful job all on its own." his worn hand cups the underside of your jaw tenderly. "aren't i always good t'ya?"

your exhales are weak, just like your resolve. "okay."

simon's eyes glint with satisfaction as he lifts his hand, index pointing upwards and twirls it in a slow, deliberate motion.

your palms are flat on the counter when he curls his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and knickers, tugging them downward.

they're flat on the counter when he lowers himself to his knees and taps the inside of your foot, indicating you to widen your stance.

they're curled into fists when his breath puffs against your slick cunt and his warm tongue slides through your folds, drawing lazy circles around your bud. a tingle of arousal shoots up your spine, his mouth sparking a fire right under your navel.

they're reaching for simon, nails sinking into the delicate skin of his wrist as your back bows when you come on his tongue, vision spotted with black, blurry dots and white hot ecstasy coursing through your veins.

your hands are now crossed at the base of your spine, your cheek pressing into the cool kitchen counter as he bends you over it.

"15 minutes before the boys are home from school. tha's plenty o'time, yeah?"

a rhetorical, if you've ever heard one.

your knuckles stain white as you clench your fists at the heavy, hot weight of his manhood stretching your walls to take him in, a sweet burn that you've always loved. he's gentle but sure, bottoming out in one smooth stroke that pushes the air out of your lungs. the sibilant hiss simon lets out is never fails to elicit a whimper out of you.

"fuck," he groans. "i could stay inside this pretty pussy forever."

and the dirty talk. how much you've missed it.

"would you like tha', pet? be inside of ya til you don't know where i end and you begin?"

a garbled mhm slips past your lips. your head already empty at just the sensation of being so unbearably full that it feels like you're tearing at the seams.

"another time, then, since the kids'll be home soon."

he begins to move, shallow but firm thrusts that drag his cock along your nerves deliciously- a sure fire way of getting you to climax around him in minutes.

your walls begin to squeeze down as the knot in your stomach tightens, and he lets go of your wrists, looping an arm around your waist and straightens you- his broad chest to your much smaller back.

his clever fingers wind downwards, and rub precise, little circles on your slippery clit, and it's all too much, you're hurtling toward the precipice at neck break speed- "god, simon, please-"

his pace never falters, not his hips nor his fingers as your moans begin to rise in pitch. "i'll get ya there, love."

he does, he gets you to your highest peak- blindingly intense- one that chokes the very breath out of you and slackens your knees. "i've got ya."

there's no strength left in you to brace for the spine-jarring thrusts he gives after, the only thing keeping you from sprawling forward is the arm that's looped around you as he pulls you to him.

"on anything?" he rumbles.

your ears ring at that because he can't possibly- your head shakes unbidden.

"good."

the last four thrusts are heavy, backed by his weight, and he smothers a loud groan into the junction of your shoulder as he finishes inside of you- thick, viscous cum filling you until it begins to drip and fall to the floor with an audible plop.

he presses tender little kisses to your sweaty shoulder and nips the side of your neck. "just in time."

the clock on the stove says 5 minutes before the bus gets there.

he helps you redress, chuckling under his breath when you won't look him in the eye. "i'll get the kids, go get cleaned up."

the knot in your chest loosens when you hear the boys' laughter at seeing their father on the driveway. it loosens when simon picks both of them up, one in each arm, and glances up at you as you look down at them from the window.

heat licks up your cheeks when he gives you a smarmy little grin.

idiot.