#he really truly loves his kids

[irishpaisano]

Donal relaxing with Leona.

[mccoyquialisms]

thinking about riz and his love for the bad girls, and how if anyone fucks with them, then sooner or later they’re gonna answer to riz gukgak

[ruporas]

lonely

[ID: A limited palette of green and pink, Vashwood comic. The first page serves as a prologue. The first panel shows Vash speaking to someone off screen while Wolfwood is lingering behind him. A black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the second panel, Vash is buying donuts in the distance while Wolfwood is once again in view, lingering. and the black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the third panel, Vash is leaving a cubicle and turning towards his right with a slightly peeved expression. He sees Wolfwood, leaning against the cubicle, waiting for him, and with the black arrow drawn, pointing at him, implicating the consistent hovering of Wolfwood’s presence during Vash’s everyday. At the bottom of the page, they’re drawn out of panel with Vash turning to Wolfwood and saying with an irritated expression, “You’re really following me everywhere, huh?” Wolfwood responds, “What, you got a problem?” Vash responds without hesitation, “Yeah, kinda...”

The second page starts with a new day. In the first panel, Vash is seen alone, weighing apples in his hands at a mart, with crowds passing behind him. In the second panel, he turns to his right and starts to say, “Hey, Wolfwood...” In the third panel, he’s startled from seeing a stranger, whom he’d accidentally called out to when he was expecting to see Wolfwood. He says, “Oh, you’re not him. Sorry!” In the fourth panel, the stranger walks off and Vash muses, “Right, he said he had something to do today...”

The third page begins with a close up of Vash's miffed expression, the continuation of Vash's thoughts, "Now that he's not here, this is just like how I used to be, but... It feels lonely somehow. Oh well, I'll see him again tonight, like always." In the second panel, it shows Vash walking through the marketplace crowd, alone. In the third panel, the door panel is a close up of the door opening with a peek of Vash's head. He says, "Wolfwood!" In the fourth panel, Vash is holding a bag of food with a bright smile and says, "Are you hungry? I got you something to eat today!"

The fourth page begins with a shot of the room, two beds being highlighted, one of them being made properly with the blanket draped over the bed and the other with the blanket folded and pillow sitting on top of it. There's no sign of Wolfwood. The second panel shows Vash with a disappointed look as he thinks, "He's still not here?" The third panel shows Vash putting the bag of food on the table. Stapled to the paper bag is the receipt with a written note "For Wolfwood." Vash's thoughts continue "He does like to stay out so, I guess there's no reason to worry..." The fourth panel shows Vash sitting his bed somberly with his thoughts continued, "It's not any of my business anyway..."

The fifth page starts with a close up his blank expression as he looks downwards, thinking, "Even if he left completely... That'd be understandable and better for him. I'll just travel alone again... like before... Huh?" The next panel shows Vash's composure break, tears welling up in his eyes suddenly, as he didn't expect to cry. He starts to sob, putting his hands to his face to quiet himself and wipe at his tears, as he says, "Ugh... Dammit... I miss h..." The last panel shows Vash leaning over into his hands, still crying, and in the back, the door swings wide open with a bam as Wolfwood walks through with the punisher swung behind him. He shouts, "SPIKEY! You in here?!"

The sixth page starts with Wolfwood confused, looking at Vash and Vash looks back, just as confused, with tears in his eyes and snot out of his nose. Wolfwood starts saying, "Ah? You..." No longer in panels, at the bottom of the page, Wolfwood takes the Punisher off of himself and starts to walk towards Vash, continuing with slight concern, "What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" Vash, hurriedly begins to wipe at his tears, denying immediately, "No! No, I'm fine! Nothing happened!"

The seventh page, Vash points towards the table, with a hand still wiping at his tears and he smiles as he says, "I uh got you food. On the table." Wolfwood looks towards to the table and responds, "Oh. I was getting hungry, thanks." He turns his head back to Vash immediately after with an uncertain expression, knowing the other wasn't responding to his concern, and says, "But, I know you're an idiot with this stuff, so I'm reminding you again. Don't brush it off if it's an issue, alright?"

The eight page, Vash's tears have dried and he looks to Wolfwood with a soft smile and responds, "Yeah. It's okay though..." A panel at the center shows a side view of Vash approaching Wolfwood. At the bottom of the page, with no panel, is a close up shot of Vash's hand, holding onto the edge of Wolfwood's jacket sleeve, as he says, "Because you're here now. Wolfwood."

The final page is a back shot of both of them standing next to each other, Wolfwood's head tilted slightly to the left, not fully believing Vash as he says, "That doesn't answer anything, Spikey." Vash responds, "There's no need to talk about it! You should enjoy your food. Let's have a drink too?" Wolfwood responds, "Tsk, tsk. Fine, yeah. I could use one." END ID]

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Julian Blackthorn’s constant awareness of his siblings is both so heartwarming and so heartbreaking to read

[spielzeugkaiser]

I love your art soooo much-it gives me life!! 🥰🥰🥰

I have a question about Milek and Jaskier! Milek says they fought before Jask went missing-what did they fight about? Did Milek say something he shouldn’t have? 👀😢 is there ANGST?

Also does Geralt know Mileks plush friend is called Roach? Because surely that’s a clue that Milek is his…(I love this universe so much)!!🥹❤️❤️❤️

[MASTERPOST] That was the last conversation they had before Milek stormed out - and when he came back, Jaskier was. gone. The thing is, Jaskier knows what Milek is interested in (and he is not even wrong about that, Milek has an interest in medicine, and helping people, and I think when they met he was Shanis biggest fan) and I think Jaskier is aware that some of the conflict does have its roots in Milek not wanting to leave him, even if they get really heated and ugly in their arguments. Milek shouldn't feel like he has to care for him, or have to protect him and at times I think Jaskier feels quite ashamed, which leads him to being way too unrelenting at times - especially if he thinks he's doing something to protect Milek.

[larcenywrites]

Look at Kurt and the lil bamfs! 🥺

[swordheld]

hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

[twinstxrs]

there’s probably something deeply wrong with me because every time i see someone react to the pok gukgak interrogation scene it’s like “oh no oh my god is riz’s dad a bad guy?” when the first time i saw that scene my only thought was “oh my god is riz’s dad HOT??”

[imminent-danger-came]

I'll never get over the fact that MK trades his friends for power to save his friends. What's wrong with him

[hood-ex]

wait idk anything about the tevis’— why would tommy tevis call dick his son? would you be willing to give a quick rundown

After Dick failed to get himself incarcerated, he became an enforcer for a mob boss named Tommy Tevis. Tommy took Dick in and made him part of his family. Tommy considered him an honorary son and thought very highly of him.

Nightwing (Vol. 2) #107

He even told Dick that everything he had (his home, his reputation, his family, etc.) was Dick's as well. Lynette, Tommy's wife, told Dick that Tommy would let Dick do anything. The whole family loved Dick, including Tommy's 15 year old daughter, Sophia. Sophia actually had a crush on Dick, but Dick acted like an older brother to her, helping her with her homework and such.

While Dick was away from the family for a few days, the cops busted into the Tevis's home. Lynette got killed in the gunfire, Tommy got taken to jail, and Sophia got taken in by the state.

Dick, while mentoring Rose, broke Sophia out of the state home. He got Sophia to help him with the mob. Then, when Chemo fell on Bludhaven, Dick saved Sophia and left her with Amy. When they reunited at the hospital, Dick asked Sophia to leave the mob behind and join a boarding school.

So, yeah, that's Dick's relationship with the Tevis family.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

the boy-but-not-that-way-ism of riz gukgak send tweet

[gothsuguru]

SATORU MY BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL HUSBAND <333

[swiftfootedachilles]

trevor saying "this is about you loving all the attention" ........uh. well yeah obviously...... did you miss the part where ian was abused and neglected growing up? do you expect him to hate the attention he got? i need you to be so fr trevor

[vicsy]

a 1.4k Strollonso ficlet in this trying time. some slightly tenderhorny introspection, really.

It’s in the way every living soul keeps patronizing him. 

It’s in the way, when Sebastian says his heartfelt goodbyes at the end of the season party, he clasps Lance’s shoulder and bids him good luck for the year to come. It has nothing to do with him driving; it’s about who he’ll be driving with. 

It’s in the way his father never gave him the talk but when Fernando Alonso gets signed to Aston Martin, Lawrence sits him down and they talk for an hour or two, touching on the entire history of the F1 that Lance knows already, for the love of god, and he’s pretty miserable by the time his dad sings praises to Fernando’s skills, underlining his holy like importance to the team. 

It’s in the way he can’t fucking log on twitter in the off-season without being hit by a barrage of insanity and, frankly, poorly made memes created to feed a certain narrative while Lance hasn’t even met Fernando in the role of his new teammate, even though they’ve shared the grid for years. 

Lance doesn’t really care; that is, basically, his whole brand and he lives the good life, untethered and unbothered, surrounded by wealth, love, a particular thrill.

And yet. 

Fernando Alonso is a perpetual wildcard and Lance builds his attitude around this little image, prepared for some sort of psychological warfare but it never happens. Fernando is in his space every day — testing, meetings, strategy planning; once at a get-along dinner his father planned. Lance should be bored and bitching his way out but he’s stuck with this enigma of a man, sitting in front of him, sharing a meal and some wine while Lawrence explains the unexplainable things the team did to the car. 

His mind wanders to the reasons he’ll be brushed off this season, just a young brat racing alongside a living legend again but then Fernando raises a toast and Lance’s name falls off his lips with that lilting accent and– 

It’s the wine or something in the air or a shell inside his chest that cracks open to let a little light in, all while Fernando talks, spilling niceties and compliments, and that image Lance built somewhat falls apart. 

Maybe it’s because Fernando hasn’t run him off the track yet or glared at him in a way some people that have been around long enough call a death stare; maybe Lance hasn’t spent enough time in his company to earn a reputation, to become a part of the feud that’ll go down in history. So many teams, he knows, have fallen by the wayside over less. 

Oh, but it’s such a good play because Fernando has eyes only for him like the rest don’t exist, and Lance finds himself caught like a fly in a glue trap, an object of his sole undivided attention, and Esteban fucking warned him profusely, that’s how Fernando operates. Lures you into a manic little game only he can win. 

And all those precautions are mushed together in Lance‘s brain, he knows, he knows but Fernando’s usual sharpness doesn’t cut him into bits and pieces, the lack of malice he was preparing to meet like an unwanted guest non-existent in the space between them, in the constant close proximity. It’s confusing and Lance is a shit actor. He can’t bring himself to feign ignorance or pretend to put on the face of someone he’s not. 

The picture everyone paints of Fernando is skewed, so when Lance catches a glimpse of his true colors, all of his plans to stick it to the man burst at the seams, crumbling like a house of cards. 

For all of Lance’s naivety, for how easily he follows down that narrow path, it’s a rush no money can buy. A touch here, a not-so-friendly pat there, a show of teeth in a smile that is lethal and Lance knows Fernando wants a taste, craves to do so much more, something unspeakable, something that could turn into the nastiest paddock gossip to this day but it’s exhilarating — knowing he does that to a man by simply existing. Knows that, maybe, he wants it, too. 

And it doesn’t take them long to fall into the bed together or, rather, it’s Lance who falls, perhaps for some elaborate scheme Fernando is running on him because who is he if not a villain with a plan for mayhem. 

And yet. 

It’s in the way Fernando softly kisses both his wrists, carefully thumbs at the bandages, smoothing them with furrowed brow, and Lance feels like he might get shattered by that fondness reserved just for him. 

It’s in the way he makes a face at another flock of reporters, forever annoyed by the implications they keep oh so implicit, but a private smile tugs at the corners of his lips the moment Fernando appears behind him, a palm splayed wide on the small of his back, his own smile shark-like when he says how great Lance is doing, how the team is proud of the work he puts in. 

It’s in the way he feels more than an heir to the old money, more than his privilege and some character quirks that label him as spoiled when they are alone, Lance’s long legs pillowed in Fernando’s lap and the lights are dimmed with just a TV on. He makes a dumb joke, fighting a flutter in his chest, and Fernando laughs unabashedly, swatting his thigh while all the jostling causes his phone to slip between the couch cushions, the old race reruns playing out muted in the background. 

And every time Fernando pushes into him unhurriedly, surrounded by the faceless hotel room walls, it washes away everything Lance is constantly bottling down inside; the little flame burns brighter with each languid thrust, with a hand between his shoulder blades, with a kiss placed at the back of his neck. Fernando holds him through it insanely close as Lance pants into the pristine white sheets, wet from stray tears and come, patches soaked through under his trembling knees. 

And every time Fernando gets rough with him, hand coming down hard on his reddened ass because Lance had been in a mood, riling Fernando up, giving as good as he gets, to the point where he ends up bent in half, cock straining and weeping from each slap, each word reaching his ears seeped in unearthly lust. The breakneck speed of a racing car doesn’t quite match the adrenaline hit, doesn’t reduce Lance to whimpers and croaky moans, doesn’t push him to the edge of begging. 

And every time Fernando spends what feels like hours cleaning him up and licking traces of his orgasm off Lance’s skin before plopping down next to him, sweaty and out of breath, sucking a mark into his neck, Lance feels like his floating, finally out of his head. Fernando teases him with a twinkle in his eyes, forever kind where he looks at him, and Lance playfully bites his shoulder in return, then smiles into the pillow before sleep claims him, a heavy arm thrown over his waist, grounding him. 

And it’s Fernando, Fernando, Fernando — every time, all the time, and Lance finds himself suddenly caring, wanting, feeling like he doesn’t wish for it to end, ever. Like losing at this game they play is worth having a life inside a life; something real and fragile and raw encapsulated between who they both are to the outside world. 

And yet. 

It spins out of control like a car on a wet track, rules to the game Lance never bothered to learn forgotten and discarded, but he knows, among the sound of the engine running, the buzzing lamp in the meeting room, or the commotion just before a race. He knows, somewhere among all the sneaking around, stealing time together under the guise of team building, the false pretense got stripped away from Fernando’s actions. Lance knows, dares to look past the man behind a legacy, past a villainous haze. 

It’s in the way Lance knows they’ve abandoned the chase, the thrill, or it left them without as much as a warning. 

It’s in the way Lance seeks Fernando out with his eyes only to find him already staring at him, reading his features like an open book, his heart beating out of sync.

It’s in the way there is no turning back but Lance only looks forward and Fernando is holding his hand over the car console, squeezing his knee under the table at dinner while no one is looking, embracing him from behind with a kiss to his bare shoulder blade while the ribbons of morning light stream through the kitchen window. 

It just leaves Lance wondering. 

How can someone love so loud, so deafening, without a single word. 

[deus-ex-mona]

the nghy sendoff scene is super cute!!

from hiyori’s confident smile and “just you wait! i’ll definitely report back with good news (about the track meet)!” and nagisa’s “yeah, i’m looking forward to it.”, showing his support and faith in her running abilities…

to their promise to keep in contact…

just… the contrast between nagisa’s slightly lonely look as he tells her “…keep in touch, ‘kay?” and hiyori’s bright smile as she agrees with a “yup! see ya!”…

and it seems like hiyori’s going to leave just like that, but t h e n

…she abruptly turns around to give nagisa an especially adorable angelic smile and wave and!!!!!!!!!

nghy are just so precious guys… they deserve all the happiness in the world…

live laugh love nghy!!!

[lloydfrontera]

if i think too long about the ending making lloyd leave the home he worked so hard to save behind along with the new found family he sacrificed his life for so he can move to a place he has no emotional connection to where he only knows two people (one of which is actually following him from the aforementioned home) in order to make him get a standard "have a wife and children" 'happy' ending i start wanting to bite people not gonna lie