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watchyourbuck · 26 days

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Buck won’t even get a minute’s peace with his new super hot pilot boyfriend before the love of his life comes stumbling inside the restaurant and tapping on his shoulder SJDJDJDJ this show is a comedy

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bet-on-me-13 · 5 months

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Death, Destruction, and Danny

(disclaimer: I have the barest bones idea of what the Endless are or their personalities, so this is just a quick blub of something I thought of at Work)

So! The JLA have just had an encounter with a member of the Endless, and called in Constantine to explain what exactly they are.

"Okay, so it's like this. Before Existence, before The Universe itself, the Personification of Time had a group of Children. These Children each Represent an Aspect of the Universe, and they are as Immortal as Immortal can get." Constantine explained.

"These children are called the Endless. They are, Dream, Destiny, Despair, Desire, Delirium, Destruction, Death, and Danny."

"...Danny?"

"Oh yeah, Danny's a cool guy. He was adopted later on by Time Itself, and he represents Balance. But that's not a word that starts with D so he just goes by his Mortal Name, Danny, to fit in."

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ffverr · 13 days

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A family doesn't need to be a husband a wife and two kids, sometimes it's a lesbian terrorist couple, a flying brick from Mississippi, a Catholic German and a Cajun thief. And I think that's beautiful

#x men #x men comics #rogue #destiny #mystique #nightcrawler #gambit #x men meme #irene adler #raven darkholme #kurt wagner #remy lebeau #darkholme family shenanigans #x men 97

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theology101 · 2 months

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Yo forgive the fact that i recorded this on an iphone in an amc, but can we like… discuss for a second

Feyd-Rautha, if he had a single second to live, would’ve started making out with Paul. This man has never been turned on more in his fucking life then fighting his predestined Cousin-Soulmate over who gets to be the Father of the Kwisach Haderach

You know he was pissed as fuck that Jessica ruined the plan. Man would’ve been SO HYPE to make Super Messiah Babies with Paul(ine)

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luxmoogle · 3 months

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｡༅:*ﾟ:*: When you're not here... ......the pieces don't line up *ﾟ:༅｡.｡

#kingdom hearts #kh #kairi #kh kairi #sokai #sora x kairi #destiny islands #kh3 #my art

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illyanarasputinfan · 5 months

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X-Men Blue: Origins #1 (2023) MARVEL

I know some comic book readers are upset to learn Mystique and Destiny are Nightcrawler’s biological parents, but personally, I think that it is fantastic. When I learned of Chris Claremont’s idea to make the couple Kurt’s parent years ago, I thought it was strange, cool, and would NEVER be allowed at Marvel Comics. So as a queer kid disappointed that this revelation was scrapped in favor of making Azazel Kurt’s father, I found this retcon especially delightful. Is it convoluted? Yes. Is it awesome? Also yes. Sorry, not sorry, Internet trolls. This type of inclusivity and acceptance are exactly what I’ve loved about X-Men for decades. Kudos to Si Spurrier for making it canon. 👏

#Nightcrawler #Kurt Wagner #Uncanny Spider-Man #Mystique #Raven Darkholme #Destiny #Irene Adler #X-Men #Marvel #Marvel Comics #Marvel Heroes #Comics #Comic Books #X-Men Blue: Origins #Chris Claremont #Si Spurrier

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alkcomics · 4 months

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I love comics lettering and wanted to honor some iconic dialogue as well as have a little fun~

I'll have these as stickers at ECCC!

#x-men #wolverine #emma frost #monet #nightcrawler #mystique #destiny #typography #merch #what's my merch tag is it just merch??

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nelkcats · 10 months

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A Little bird told me

Danny knew his dimension didn't need him. It had been a long time since it stopped needing him, a long time since he had to be content to spend most of his days in the Infinite Realms. His sister and friends were too busy these days to pay attention to him; Danny understood, it's not like he could work or have a job, considering he'd stopped growing at 21 and people would start asking questions eventually.

Honestly, it was a relief that he'd even been able to grow up to that age, Clockwork's knowing look told him he had help with it.

So, he distracted himself by learning things from the other ghosts in the Realms, who were definitely as bored as he was. He even managed to get Vlad to teach him duplication, but it wasn't that interesting after a while. Though he had become interested in the different dimensions that Clockwork watched over.

The problem was that there was one dimension that had caught his attention (one full of heroes and magic) but they always made the worst decisions. There came a point where he decided to interfere, Clockwork seemed amused so he figured he wasn't going to stop him.

As he thought about how to infiltrate (definitely not as a hero, he loved his retirement, thank you very much), he remembered a rather...odd power he had recently discovered.

Danny had discovered that he could shapeshift. The problem was that he could only shapeshift into dead animals and well, while it was fun to scare others, he didn't know how well people would take a ghost crow with ectoplasm coming out of it's wounds.

Figuring it was better than nothing, he transformed into a bird and flew through the portal; he flew towards John Constantine, who seemed fed up with his life. Constantine knew the bird was fucking weird the moment it sit on his shoulders but he had better things to take care of, like the demon in front of him.

Said bird apparently knew the way to defeat the demon, because he started naming the ingredients needed to banish it. Constantine saw it with narrowed eyes and asked if he wanted his soul, the bird pecked him, looking annoyed.

From there, seeing that the dead bird was doing no harm, Constantine let it stay. It was oddly useful and he had sold his soul for less.

Danny spent his days whispering things to Constantine to defeat enemies and the hellbazer gave him cookies in return (the halfa really wanted to be offended), when the League saw Constantine with a dead crow on his shoulder they wondered if he had finally lost his mind.

John commented that his name was Ghosty (he was pecked again) and that he was useful, unfortunately for the superhero community, Constantine had never been that useful and therefore they couldn't complain (but why did he suddenly know all the existing gossip?, he kept bribing them with it! His crow looked amused too).

Every time Constantine won a battle without explanation, someone would make the mistake of asking how he did it. With a shit-eating grin, Constantine would point to his shoulder and say "a little bird told me."

Danny was so tempted to shape-shift just to bite his head off, but the cookies were good.

#dpxdc #Basically Danny became Constantine sidekick #but not really #he just give information and gossip #and Constantine give him cookies in return #Danny stayed as a crow at first #but he started changing to different birds just to confuse the heroes #Constantine doesn't care #he should probably be worried about the unknown entity in his shoulder #but he sold his soul for less #dp x dc #dc x dp #immortal danny #he changed the dimension destiny via Constantine #Constantine is having fun for once #Clockwork is too #Danny is starting to like cookies a lot #he wonders if it's a bird thing

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eratosmusings · 21 days

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Stolen Destiny (III)

summary: your limits are pushed until something snaps

warnings: adults only, all characters are over 18, smut in future chapters, blood, misogyny, dark themes, canon typical violence

word count: 2k

previous chapter / dividers / masterlist

Feyd-Rautha is in your dreams again. Black teeth, barking laugh. But it’s not the same. Eyes alight with something you don’t understand. Dress heavy and clinging. Nails dragging down your wet skin. Dagger in your hand pressing against his throat. Poisoned words on his lips. “You wear blood well, my darling.” His image fades as hands cup your cheeks.

The day that follows is endless. Finalizing preparations for the coming days of events. Fielding requests from the minor houses for a moment of your time. A meeting over concerns of recent tectonic activity that your absent father is supposed to attend. Two more run throughs of the dance. The swordmaster demands two more after dinner.

Irulan is entangled in conversation with Duke Leto throughout the meal. Nauseously you wonder when an engagement will be announced. It was the destiny the Atreides had stolen. Paul would be Emperor and you would be nothing but a disappointment. Your father toasts to how proud he is of the woman you’ve grown into. There’s no truth in it. You can only blink at the lemon tart that’s served for dessert as he promises he’s prepared a fun few days ahead.

When the meal is over you do not seek Fandral. You do the opposite and duck out of his sight at the first opportunity. He knows you’re supposed to return to the Small Hall and practice again. As comforting as his presence has been, you don’t want comfort or encouragement or protection. You want to stab something. Repeatedly.

The training yard is empty. The weapons are locked away, but you have the dagger Feyd-Rautha had gifted. You’d carried it with you throughout the day. Tucked away into the deep pockets of the borrowed gowns. You aren’t sure why today you felt the need to have it and not any other. Maybe you knew you’d need it. Or maybe you made the need for it because you had it. Either way, it serves your purpose.

The mannequin takes the blade with little resistance. It was natural in your hand. No matter how much or little pressure you use, it doesn’t slip and slice your palm like others do. A well made dagger.

You flick on the mannequin’s shield to test how well it handles the added strain.

“I am glad to see you enjoying my gift.”

There’s little resistance as you sink it into the stomach of the mannequin. “I am sick of pleasantries and pandering, na-Baron. Leave me be.”

Feyd-Rautha is predictable. You knew he would follow. You know he’ll take the chance to attack.

There’s the slightest whoosh of air that warns you. You evade the blade in his hands by millimeters, dodging to the right. You push the mannequin towards him. It knocks into him, unbalancing him for a moment long enough to twist your own shield on. His black grin is wide again as he recovers and stands tall. The dagger he carries isn’t much different from his gifted one. The handle thicker and longer, a few teeth in the blade, but from what you can glimpse it’s clear they had been made by the same hands.

He lunges, expecting your evasion and slices at where your throat goes. He’s too fast and it bounces off. You counter with a jab to his arm, slow enough that it strains his shield. He doesn’t give it the time to penetrate as his blade comes back again.

The dance continues. Both of you manage to knick the other occasionally. You feel blood seeping from a slash across your chest and more from one along your back. He has two along his arms and one on his hip. You’ve held well, but he is taller and stronger and you feel yourself begin to falter.

“Growing tired, my lady?” he teases as you barely dodge another attack.

“As would you under the weight of this dress.”

“I have no objection to you removing it.” He’s quick even after the extended duel. He strikes, and in your attempt to get away, he catches your hand and turns your shield off. The humming of his shield silences as you're pulled and turned until your back meets his chest. His blade is against your neck with a familiar chill and fingers digging into your hip. “Though it may tempt me into distraction.”

An unfamiliar fire blooms with the confession. “Careful what you share, na-Baron. I might use that sort of information against you one day.” Something twitches against your lower back.

“Let her go.”

The hand gripping your hip, the blade at your throat, and the warmth on your back are gone in an instant. You’ve never heard The Voice before, but it’s unmistakable. It’s not even directed at you, but your mind blurs and your body is pliant, as if waiting for its own command to follow. Fandral’s face blocks your view. He’s questioning if you’re alright, if you feel faint or dizzy. You can’t answer. It’s as if you're treading through the water again.

You’re turned and pulled again, but now you’re separated from Feyd-Rautha by your guard and Paul Atreides. The heirs point their blades at each other. Paul accuses him of taking and hurting you. As if you were some helpless damsel.

“Stop,” you say. It’s too quiet, your mouth numb. Fandral shushes you and tries to lead you away. You try again, louder, “Stop!”

Neither heir moves.

“I asked him to spar.” It’s only a half lie. Paul’s tense pose eases as he finally breaks his gaze off Feyd-Rautha. “I wasn’t taken. He didn’t hurt me.” Paul's eyes dip to your chest. “Not anymore than I did him, anyways.”

Fandral questions, “In an evening dress? Alone?”

“It is when she is most vulnerable.” Feyd-Rautha has lost his smile. “Given her security leaves much to be desired at the best of times.”

You can feel the loathing radiating from Fandral. But there is no denial.

You nod at your former opponent “Thank you for your time, na-Baron. It was very enlightening.”

“It was a pleasure, my lady. You fight like a Harkoneen.”

The fire he lit burns brightly on your cheeks.

“What was the point in asking for a personal guard?” Fandral huffs when you’ve returned to the palace. His jacket is around your shoulders to cover the slice in the back of your dress. He’d wanted you to see the doctor, worried again about poison, but you refused. “If you wanted to train, you should have asked me.”

“Or me,” Paul says on your other side. “He could have hurt you.” He doesn’t recognize the condescension of his concern.

“That was the point.” You have to stop yourself from touching the wound on your chest. “How am I supposed to know training has been effective if I’ve never faced real consequences?”

Fandral scolds, “If you stay with your guard, you’ll never be in a situation where you have to find out if it’s effective.” He shakes his head, pushing the door to the Small Hall open. It was the compromise he relented to. No doctor visit if you came here.

“You’re late,” the swordmaster calls out from where he stands in the middle of the room with a guard you recognize as one the Atreides’. His eyes travel across your mussed form. “I hope the other person looks worse than you.”

“He doesn’t.”

You glare at Fandral as the swordmaster decides that is a personal offense against his training and decides that practice will be doubled for it. It’s only as you look for the woman who always carries your swords that you realize she’s not there. None of the others are. But Paul still is.

“I shall see you tomorrow?” You hope he understands it’s a dismissal.

The question amuses him. “I intended to practice with you tonight.”

“With me?”

He smiles as if you’re missing something obvious.

The dance isn’t silly anymore. Fandral had been right. It does tell a story. One of submission.

There are no troubadours, only the sole Atrides guard who plucks at the strings of a Baliset. Your feet move in the familiar pattern, hilts of the swords bouncing against your hips.

Even without the additional instruments you recognize the melody. The blades gnash against their sheaths in protest as you pull them free. They shriek in the air, spinning easily between your fingers. Faster and faster they spin until the music nearly dies.

Once, twice you clink the blades’ together before you stab one into the plush stool. Fandral claps to the beat the drums usually play as you turn your back to it. The sword that remains drags its tip against the stone floor. Sparks follow when you twist quickly.

Paul stands there now, sword pulled free. He brings it in front of him as he drops into a defensive stance. The Baliset begins again now you fight. Thrust, retreat, parrie, circle, advance, lunge, parrie, retreat, parrie, parrie. On and on it goes until he flicks the sword out of your hand. You take the hand he offers and spin into him as the music reaches a subdued crescendo. Chest heaving, you stay there and stare into the eyes of the person who has taken everything from you until the music and the last of your dignity finally dies.

Three more times you are subjected to the humiliation. It will be once more tomorrow.

When Paul and his guard are gone, jolly at the surprise they’d sprung on you, you round on the swordmaster. He answers your unspoken question. “Your father did not want you to know until the last possible moment.”

“Perhaps you should wait until morning,” Fandral attempts to persuade you as he shadows you down the empty corridors. “Or at least remove your swords?” You don’t bother with a response.

The guards stationed outside his door attempt to stop you, but you’re quick to dip under their arms and push into the room. You're unsurprised to find a courtesan in his bed. There’s a scandalized shout from her and curses from him as they scramble to cover themselves.

“Get out,” you tell her.

Your father objects, but she is quick to comply. She pulls her dress from the floor and slips into it with practiced ease. She’s gone within a minute. The door closes behind her.

“You’ve gotten bold,” he growls.

“Why didn’t you want me to know?”

With a huff he says, “Because you wouldn’t have done it if you did. I told the Atridies you’d be too shy to do it if you knew and the boy thought it was enduring.”

“Why have me dance with him at all?”

He shrugs. “It was their suggestion.”

You stare at him. He’s pathetic. “You were wrong,” you tell him, bile on your tongue. “I would have done it if you asked. I would’ve done anything for you.” You leave before he sees the tears slide down your cheeks.

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t have a chance to visit you that night. Sleep never comes. Anger too potent to allow any rest.

When morning comes the maids work on making you presentable. There’s comments on the bags under your eyes and the new scar across your chest. You let them cover the former, but insist on keeping the latter. “Your father won’t like it,” one cautions. You're not inclined to care what he likes anymore. It’s something they soon realize.

They’re hesitant to style your hair in the way you instruct, but relent. Then the dress they offer, another of his choosing, is refused. You see their realization when you tell them what you’ll wear instead. Their efforts to sway you are in vain as you threaten to leave the room as bare as the day you were born.

Fandral stops in the doorway after the maids leave. “You look…”

You're still standing in front of the mirror. The dress is lilac, frilly and feminine in a way you’ve never been allowed. Your hair is braided, save for the pieces that frame your face. You look soft. Delicate. Like a painting that had been tucked away when you asked too many questions.

“Like my mother.”

There’s only one thing missing. The rogue lies abandoned on the vanity. It’s vivid enough that a single dab of the brush colors both your cheeks.

your thoughts & reblogs are appreciated!

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#feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #dune part two #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #stolen destiny

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kiritella · 9 months

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For those who haven't read The Witcher, I feel the need to tell you some things...

Ciri was something around 10, I think, when she met Geralt, and was a terrible brat.

One of the first times Geralt met Ciri, he gave her a piggy back ride because she hurt her leg.

He told her a bed time story because she asked him to.

Geralt is a sarcastic bastard, especially with Ciri.

Ciri led Geralt by the hand when he had to be blindfolded while walking through Brokilon forest by the Dryads.

Ciri would cling to Geralt's thigh when she was frightened.

Geralt would cuddle Ciri so that she could fall asleep, and she would reach out to him as she slept.

There were hugs, and I think all of them were initiated by Geralt himself because he could see that Ciri was frightened or he was just very happy to see her.

Stay tuned for more...

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twohelve · 1 month

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𝐁𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋 ! — geto suguru 18+ mdni

a/n: this isn't anything too long, just a little drabble I thought of while doing work 😞, anyways I hope y'all like it because I sure don't!!

geto knows that you have a few faults.

for starters, you're forgetful and clumsy, always getting your self into some kind of trouble.

he doesn't hold it against you though, he just...finds it amusing how you manage to stumble through life with such gusto.

your forgetfulness can be quite endearing at times, like when you try to suprise him with little spontaneous gestures and then accidentally create hilariously awkward scenarios.

once, you decided to show up at his house unannounced with a huge bouquet of his favorite blooms, seemingly unaware of his allergy even though he had made it abundantly clear that he was allergic.

"why are you sneezing s'much sugu?

"i'm allergic to pollen baby..." well! it's the thought that counts I guess...

your clumsiness, on the other hand has earned you numerous nicknames among your friends, they get a kick out of calling you things like 'bum bum' or 'bimbo dolly' because of how gawky you were.

but the biggest fault of them all is that...you're really fucking stupid. you seem to lack the ability to think critically or make rational decisions.

it's almost as if you're operating on auto pilot, without any consideration for the consequences of your actions.

even so, geto loved that about you.

he loves that you’re a “head empty, no thoughts” kind of girl. so much easier to control and manipulate. he capitalizes on your naivety and uses it to his advantage, knowing that you'll always trust him blindly.

that way, it's so much easier to force you to your knees and shove his cock down your throat — enfolding his hands into your hair and fucking your face until your cheeks are covered in his cum and your mascara is gushing down your face.

geto just loves his bimbo doll <3

#destiny's !#geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto smut #suguru smut #geto x reader smut #suguru x reader smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader smut #this is so bad 🙁#...

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gay-celestial-being · 1 year

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