#aww he does care

[gothamite-rambler]

Oliver Queen to Dick Grayson and Jason Todd

Oliver: You guys are freaks, I want you to stay away from my son!

Jason (calmly): Not doing that. Was that supposed to hurt my feelings? Calling me a freak? Bitch, I hear that every other day.

Dick holding his head down.

Dick (sniffling): I didn't know I was doing anything wrong. I just want him to be happy.

Jason, slowly shook with rage.

One minute later.

Jason had Oliver pinned on the ground with his arm bent so hard the bone is about to break while Dick futilely tried to break the two up.

Jason: Apologize to him!

Oliver Queen: I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Let go of my arm!

[willowser]

you meet bakugou because of your job at the news agency, and even though he's not exactly friendly — you don't think he's as bad as most make him out to be.

yes, he calls you a hack and he's never smiled at you once, but his shitty, sharp humor makes you laugh, even if it's a little mean. he's handsome, and maybe that softens him to you in a superficial way, but his scars mean something, you think. something important that too many seem to forget, when they criticize him.

it happens very naturally; some sorry headline grabber comes out with the intention of dogging him, for entirely trivial stuff, and you fire back without thinking. it's not necessarily an article in defense of him, but a series of tweets that are meant to remind the public of all he's ever sacrificed for your country; that his capture rate is almost as high as all might's was at the same age; that crime on the streets he routinely patrols has dropped, severely — and maybe that's because they fear him and his attitude and the walking arsenal that he is.

but how is that a bad thing?

you don't see him all that often, but the next time you do, you don't miss that his eyes are already on you when you glance back at him, or that he seems taller? not standing with that horrible slouch of his. he even brings you a drink, grumbling that he "doesn't drink this frilly shit" though there are two flutes in his hand and he does — indeed — drink the frilly shit.

it's sweet and you feel a swarm of violent butterflies, when he walks you to your car after, but you sit in the dark once he's gone, illuminated only by the blue-light of your cellphone.

and you wonder if anyone, ever, has defended him.

[chatdae]

love how the older skaters in the senior division give Yurio encouragement and that each time it pisses Yurio off. JJ is intentionally condescending so that makes sense, but with Viktor and Yuuri they're not even being condescending. Yurio's just dialed in on being a hater... and i love that for him <3

[cautiouslyyyoptimistic]

Mxtx was so sexy for having shen qingqiu experience the shen jiu flashbacks and still deciding to dislike him. Don't get me wrong I eat up all those awesome fanfics and headcannons of them having some sort of positive relationship like it's breadsticks, but sy!shen qingqiu's canon perception of shen jiu is just so juicy!

Like, you die, you die cursing and screaming some trashfire novel but wake up in your least favorite character's body. But he's not a character anymore, you eventually find out and accept that you and everyone around you is real. This body is real and so was the person who had it before. This body was theirs but now its yours. This body has done real horrendous things to real people that you care about. Some omnipotent system inside you is encouraging and coercing you into doing similar horrendous acts this body would have done, what it used to do. This body is not yours but now it is and now you have to live with it knowing you have to act out this body's role. Hurt your loved ones, distance yourself from your comrades, die a painful death. That is what this body was meant for, this was the original owner's fate, live with it. You are now one of the only people in the whole world that intimately knows how that man was the way he was and why he did the things he did. But that does not make it better, you feel pity, some sort of regret for how things could have been, but you cant forgive and forget because you hate him. You hate the character who turned out to be a man. You hate the man that used to own this body. You hate this body that's yours but not really yours. You hate your role, this narrative, this world, your future circumstances. Your actions of self preservation that have caused great harm. And ultimately, you hate yourself.

[filmbyjy]

WHAT DOES HE MEAN👁️👁️

[shewhoeatssand]

Kaneki looks very pretty on this page!

[themosthatedbeingg]

Susan is running towards the castle. "That idiot!!!! Is probably in there!"

SNAP! A chatelaine appears by her side, "Find him!" she orders as embers and ash spill forth from the various compartments and forms into a handful of flickering foxes that dart off towards the wreckage, looking for the King of Hell.

♥Grandma-Susan

There’s crumbling marble and brick and dust abound , portraits and statues litter the floor , half of the castle collapsed on the boat and onto the gardens below .

There’s debris everywhere and a bent wing is sticking out of a pile of ruble on the ground underneath where the 3rd story of the castle was , and ship parts , a shrapnel of the mast piercing through it .

[prolibytherium]

Honest to god can't tell if I have a thing for one of my closest friends or not. Not even in an 'I am conflicted' way but in a 'I genuinely have no idea' way

[scrapcheese]

haven't been dragonposting in a while but look at the two of them.. they're so silly

Manga: Fafnir the recluse, chapter 10

[aromanticasterisms]

so no furina story quest 2 :((

[batsplat]

save me valentino praising casey post-catalunya 2007... save me....

[recitedemise]

❛ i had it under control. you didn’t need to do that. ❜

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬: no longer accepting.

Admittedly, she's not wrong. Shadowheart, as far as Gale's concerned, is her own one-man indomitable army. In fact, the wizard's of the thought that she could reap an army—and through wordcraft alone. Through blades? Have mercy. Looking at their foe, Gale quells the Weave that throbs his fingers. His skin cracks like a vase held together by ink, and for all his kindness, his needless generosity, his blight-bitten arteries burst like fruit. He scents thick ozone. And burnt, crisp flesh.

Gale turns. Before him, like some maligned, haunting, and impressive pillar, frightening Shadowheart stands and waits. Bravely, he, as hubris asks of him, holds his ground. She offers the sight of a wraith, a whisper dragged out the bowels of some taboo tale, but Gale's long dabbled in necromantic arts. Daring her, he hides his arm and steps beyond a corpse.

"I'm fairly certain, Shadowheart," he starts, "that it's no grave assumption to say you're known to abysses." Beside her, he lowers to his knees. "I won't rob you of whatever comfort they afford you, mind, but I find there's no chasm you need wander alone. As it were, to cast a brilliant shadow, one requires an equally brilliant light."

Witty. Gale smiles. He checks the corpse, pocketing an artefact that smells thick of magic. He's a vessel of thunder, a sizzling tempest in the still of night, and Shadowheart, reaper, doesn't fear penumbras—but Gale, companion, cares for her.

"I'm quite happy to continue lighting your way—if you'll have me," he says.

[cheemken]

all this talk about the champions, but what about diantha's own league? what about the kalos league, her elite four, her gym leaders? what do they think of their champion now?

God the Kalos League was absolutely devastated when they all saw the news of what happened in Galar. Fucking imagine all of em vibing and watching the tournament, cheering for Diantha, and everything happened oh so suddenly. Suddenly Diantha had that edge, suddenly Leon started attacking her, suddenly she called out Yveltal, suddenly they see her eyes full of cold fury that they never thought they'd see, suddenly she's there calling out the Galar League, calling out Chairman Rose, telling the entire world about the threats she and the other champions had gotten from the man himself if they so much as beat Leon. And suddenly... They all started attacking her.

They're all so conflicted, they don't know what to do. That's Diantha, their champion, their angel, their queen, the one who protected all of them at all costs, who made sure they were all safe, who gave them purpose, who welcomed them despite their backgrounds, who encouraged and inspired them with her work. Their Diantha... How... How could they do that to their Diantha?

But at the same time, they were lied to. Diantha had lied to them. About Flare, about Yveltal. An argument broke out between the League, when suddenly Gengar showed up, stopping the feud, and dropped two envelopes across the table each containing a letter, with Siebold seated at the head, always her right hand man in the League. And Gengar left, but not before prompting Siebold to read the letter. And read he did.

He read out loud, for everyone to hear. There were two, but Gengar had motioned to read the one from Chairman Rose first. It read of Rose threatening Diantha of death, not only her, but her brother and even the league as well. Every Elite Four member, every Gym Leader, was mentioned by name by Rose, saying how he'll make sure Diantha would watch them all die one by one and he'll kill her brother last, making sure that everyone she loves dies before her.

Everything became cold, some were gripping the edge of the table, some almost couldn't believe that someone could ever write that, and some almost didn't want to hear the rest of it. Even Malva was surprised to hear that Rose knew she meant enough for Diantha to even threaten her too.

And then Siebold read the other letter, the date was set... Yesterday? What? Unfolding it, it's written in Diantha's own hand writing. She wrote her apologies, wrote why she ever encouraged Lysandre to create Flare, why she wanted to create a more beautiful world, so everyone she ever loved, her brother, her league, her friends, wouldn't have to be hurt anymore, so they won't have to suffer anymore. She said she had to lie to keep them safe, so the plan would go perfectly, but Lysandre was incompetent, she said, and thus the plan failed. If it didn't, then all of this wouldn't have happened too, they could be living much peaceful lives, and people like Rose won't be w them in their new world.

The League still felt conflicted, they don't know if Dia's still lying in her letter or not, but it felt so genuine, it sounds so much like the Diantha they know, to put herself out as a shield to protect those she care about. The silence was dense, and suddenly Malva stood up, hands slamming the table, despite what happened during that night, Diantha cared enough to let her heal her Houndoom, and now Malva understood why Diantha didn't want her to come to Galar to broadcast the tournament, because of what Rose would do to her too. And here she thought Diantha hated her as well. So Malva looked at Siebold, and it surprised everyone, it's been such a while since they last saw Malva being so worked up by something.

"well, it's clear what we need to do, so what are we waiting for?" She raised a brow towards the rest of the Elite Four, questioning.

Siebold sighed, heavy and tired, then he nodded, looking at the rest. "I'm sure Diantha is here in Kalos right now. And this time we'll be there for her too. She gave us support when we needed it, it's time to return the favour."

Drasna then spoke, "right. Our dear Diantha is probably so scared right now too, we'll help Augustine in his search, and together we'll all help her."

"we'll split up, all the Gym Leaders you search within your respective zones, us Elite Four will search the entirety Kalos, we'll find her soon." Wikstrom added.

And the Gym Leaders all nodded, determined to help their Champion too, and they all left, back to their respective zones and cities and towns, telling the people of their own zones what they can do to help, and soon the people followed their lead. Everyone was prepared to defend their own Champion this time, and if she finally shows up, they'd welcome her with the same warmth she showed towards them. No more will their Queen fight these battles on her own.

If Galar wants another war, then Kalos won't be going down without a fight.

[darkestrellar]

In the meantime... Svern and relationships.

The truth is I do worry about plotting bonds, for the main reason that Svern isn't straightforward to go about being friends with. He's... hm. Is he really your friend? Why is he your friend? Remember that you can't trust what he says or how he acts. If he likes you, why does he like you? Would he stick by you if it was disadvantageous for him to do so?

Svern doesn't bond well. He also has a tendency to look down on others (from inside his head), yes, even those professed as friends. His #1 loyalty is to himself, with very rare exceptions. Your loyalty or affection for him is convenient and nice, though.

Like, it's cute, when the scenario comes up where Svern gets "adopted"... except, stop to check, what are you adopting? His silly guy persona? Did that endear him to you? It's a farce, man. He's not touched by your concern. You decided to care for some reason. He didn't ask you to. On his end, he's probably either interested in some aspect of your personality/skills, finds you fun/entertaining to be around, or share common interests.

It's not really that he's looking to manipulate anyone or anything (he doesn't usually have a motive to do so). That said he will use to his convenience / take advantage of how other people feel toward him.

[ace-with--a-mace]

tore up from the floor up

[tojisun]

price calling himself daddy 24/7 just to keep you in a certain headspace. even does it when you’re in a mood and he’s sinking to his knees telling his pretty girl to fuck his mouth about it

oh jesus christ this does it for me

john seeing you be so bratty and mean — full of spite and festered resentment because this day had been so shitty — but he just. folds himself before you, sinking to his knees, all starry-eyed and wobbly lips underneath his scruff.

he rubs his thumb on the inside of your thigh, humming, “won’t you, baby?”

your breath hitches, of course it would, and john is still all quiet smiles and rumbling voice and overflowing patience.

“use daddy to get the edge off, yes? ‘cause daddy just wants to see ‘is baby happy, s’all,” he croons, his eyes darkened with his own desire.

and god, john’s got you all jittery and hyper focused on his touch, feeling like the rug’s been ripped from underneath you, leaving you to free-fall into this haze that john’s coaxing you in. he’s leading you to it with such gentle cadence that you slip underneath the fog easily — your trembling hands reach to tug at your shorts, then at your panties, before spreading your legs wider, allowing john to scoot closer until his breath’s tickling your dampening folds.

“come on, sweet’art,” john rumbles, so close to your cunt you’re sure you felt his voice pulse against your core. “hands on daddy’s head; no need t’be shy about it.”

a whimper trickles from your lips, a broken little thing, as you reach forward to fist at his hair, gripping with a trembling hesitance because john may be offering but it’s still so difficult for you to take the lead. to— to use him, as he said.

because john’s this… big man. not quite literally but he has this pull in him that makes you ache, like more than anything, you are just john’s girl. no expectations, no responsibilities; just john’s sweetheart, the one he spoils with such ease and happiness. the one that makes him fold — to his knees, like right now.

the first glide is uncertain, like testing the waters even though john had devoured your cunt time and time again. but still, this was a different voyage — you feel even more exposed like this, holding his own pleasure and his own control in your lither hands. john moans, though, loud and drawn out, like it’s your face on his crotch. and you stutter, battered with your own crashing desires, and john—

he gets it. he feels your twitching fingers and the tension in your muscles because he digs his face deeper, tongue dragging along your folds with gusto, and this, like this, the dam breaks. your veins sing with pleasure, your synapses buzzing as the onslaught of your ecstasy burns through, devouring everything in its wake.

you don’t even notice the way your grip on john’s head had tightened, so focused on using his face to fuck your cunt — sliding him up-down-in-in-more. “daddy, more!”

and john groans, an apex predator’s bellow, before wider hands grip the plush of your thighs so he could fuck his tongue deeper, pushing his face closer, not minding the fact that any more and he could pretty much be smothered by your cunt and your slick—

god, your slick. the most fucking delicious thing he’s ever gulped down. and you’re so wet, dripping down your thighs and into his tongue, filling up his jowls for him to gulp down. to devour.

his precious girl, so delicious. so beautiful. so desperate for daddy.

“gonna-! daddy, m’gonna-!”

john growls, pushing your thighs further apart. his scalp burns with tiny pricks as you tug at his hair but that’s little sacrifice for this prize that’s laying before him, all sweet and needy. cunt weeping for him. only for him.

your squirt makes a mess out of him, but john doesn’t care. he gulps it down, slurping all that slip past his maw because — “baby. m’baby,” john sighs into your pussy. “so good f’r me, sweet’art. so good.”

john chances a glance up your way but you’re not even with him anymore, your gaze faraway.

“aww, sweet thing,” he croons, finally climbing up to mount you. “come on, darlin’. come back to daddy.”

but all you could do is warble a reply, and john can’t help but coo because like this, you’re even sweeter than usual. so precious for him; so precious in your trembling ecstasy.