#he was best dad <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[skyland2703]

Ecliptor didn't deserve to die

AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico referring to his mom as "Mama" implies he most likely at least used to refer to Hades as "Papa" and i 100% headcanon he still does but mostly in the manner of him having the entire Underworld wrapped around his finger for being the baby of the family

[savagegood]

richie jerimovich (taylor's version) | THE BEAR SEASON TWO

+ this needed the actual video

[icaruspendragon]

he did. my husband tried. he tried to warn them. he did. he said to them, “i’m not as into this as my wife is. i just like looking at cars, but she’s got all the facts and specs and everything. she’s practically a walking encyclopedia.”

and they didn’t believe him. they laughed. they shrugged it off. they shrugged me off. they were warned. and yet they still decided to try and put me to the test. they were warned. they were warned of what would happen to them. and yet they didn’t listen.

their ambition made them icarian. their folly turned my warmth from brilliant to sweltering.

their hubris led to their humiliation.

they were warned. but ambition makes men bold.

this is all just a very dramatic way of saying that grown men decided to play a game of, “oh you’re a fan? prove it” only to have their asses handed to them by their opponent.

this was the opponent btw:

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

New dad Astarion who is about to see his newborn child for the first time.

Of course, he expects his child to be the personification of serene beauty and divine grace. Them to have their father’s silken silvern locks, his immaculately chiselled features—the artwork perfected by Tav’s wonderful watercolour eyes…

And then he actually sees the child and—well—everybody assures him that, yes, Astarion, all babies look like that barely a half hour after birth…

He kind of has to take that at face value because he hasn’t seen an awful lot of newborns in his lifetime.

But it would’ve been nice if someone had told him that newborns happen to look like shrivelled potatoes, because he’s really, really trying to not let his bewilderment show. 

Astarion swallows. 

Tav’s beautiful eyes are watching him, waiting for a reaction—an enthusiastic one, no less. 

Maybe Tav will believe that he’s overcome with emotions at seeing his firstborn child? 

“Oh my, darling, I’m…speechless,” is all he can choke out, though, being rather proud that it’s at least not a lie. 

To his luck, Tav only nods dreamily, her full attention back on the odd little bundle in her arms.

“Isn’t she perfect?”

Yes, perfectly hideous. 

Astarion only hums in a way of reply.

That—his daughter, he supposes—is with no doubt one of the ugliest things he’s ever seen, but he has a feeling that his honesty wouldn’t be appreciated after Tav laboured for hours to give birth to this…potato-baby.

“Come, hold her, Astarion,” Tav says, then, bidding him to sit next to her on the bed.

The mattress shifts under Astarion’s weight and he obediently holds his arms out so that Tav can gently place the sleeping child against his chest.

Now that Astarion can take a better look, he can confirm that his daughter’s hair is of an indefinable colour and that her features are neither his nor Tav’s, plain as can be. Surely it won’t stay like that?

He and Tav are so ridiculously beautiful, their child can only be drop-dead gorgeous, right?

Astarion’s stomach drops indeed when, suddenly, something occurs to him. 

Oh dear, what if it’s his fault? He has no recollection of his family whatsoever; it’s very much possible that he and his immaculate looks are the exception in his lineage, and that he’s passed on only those mysterious less-than-perfect genes…Tav, as per usual, can’t be the issue!

Astarion is still catastrophizing when the bundle in his arms begins to stir.

All of a sudden, gold-speckled pale green eyes are looking up at him as if to ask what the fuck this weirdo’s problem might be. 

“Oh,” the weirdo in question exclaims at once. “Darling, look, she has your eyes!”

Tav, hugging him from behind, rests her chin on his shoulder, so she can watch as Astarion’s finger tenderly strokes their baby’s chubby cheek.

Their daughter also has, as it turns out, ten fingers and toes, a cute little nose and a hungry mouth—everything that’s supposed to be there is there, and it seems to be working fine, too—which is a huge relief. 

And aren’t those the tiniest pointy ears Astarion has ever seen? Let alone the unexpectedly strong fingers grasping at his!

Astarion, worries forgotten in a heartbeat, can’t help but smile at the baby in his arms. 

She is perfect, after all. 

Tav, face hidden in the crook of his neck, begins to tremble against his back. 

For a second, Astarion thinks she’s crying but then her laughter fills the chamber. It takes her a good moment to articulate whatever it is she finds so very funny.

“She'll grow out of it, you know?” Tav giggles in between her fits of laughter. 

Astarion stiffens. “Of what?”

“The turnip look. That’s what you’ve been worrying about the whole time, haven't you?”

“I was leaning more towards potatoes—but yes, I might’ve been a little worried about that,” Astarion admits sheepishly, although a grin is already tugging at his lips.  

Regaining her composure, Tav reaches over Astarion’s shoulder, her hand joining his as they get to know their child.

“Give it a couple of days and she will look like your proper little elf—beautiful just like her father.”

A content sigh leaves Astarion’s lips, right before he presses them against Tav’s temple.

“That’s the second best news I’ve heard today, my heart, truly.”

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[tackypies]

every time i think about how people steal wyll's romantic gestures + desire to have a family + everything they gush about in their mega ooc fluff headcanons for their white men but absolutely refuse to engage with wyll in any way bc he's just the token black character to them

[f3v3rdreams]

Canon girl dad Wyll

[dannydevitosthiccdog]

I'm so not normal about this right now but this NEEDS to be said

Ethari knows

We don't know exactly how the lotuses work, but I hc that when Rayla went to save her parents and Runaan, she essentially 'died'

Ethari is watching Rayla's flower sink into the water, similar to Runaan's, and just being overwhelmed with grief. She was alive just days prior. She returned his moon bather thing? He's lost his daughter and husband. Then, through the tears, her lotus rises again, and then through the corner of his eyes, he sees something he thinks he'd never see again . Runaan's lotus slowly rises to the top. He doesn't know how it's possible, but Rayla brings her husband back from the dead.

Certifiable roller coaster of Emotions for Ethari in less than 10 minutes.

[lunapegasus]

breaking the cycle

[capquinn]

Hi!!! Can we daydream about Quinn with his gf/wife and little kids at family skate, and he is so sweet and has fun with the kids but then he also spends time just skating with his girl and just how adorable it would all be

The rink is buzzing with laughter and chatter, a lively hum that echoes across the ice as families skate together under the bright, friendly glow of the arena lights. It’s a Canucks family skate, and the atmosphere is nothing short of joyful chaos. Around you, players glide alongside their partners and children, laughter and the occasional squeal of excitement filling the air as little ones attempt their first steps on the ice, bundled up in tiny team jerseys, their skates barely steady on the surface.

You linger by the boards, your baby boy nestled in the crook of your arm, his gaze fixed intently on the skaters zooming past, his eyes wide with wonder. He’s completely captivated, his little neck craning as he tries to take in every bit of movement. Every now and then, he lets out an excited coo, his small hands flailing and reaching as if he wants to join in, enchanted by the way everyone glides over the ice.

Around the rink, you spot a few familiar faces — teammates sharing laughs with their families, some holding hands with their significant others, others carefully guiding their wobbly-legged kids in little skates, everyone wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. You can see Brock pulling his young niece around the ice, her giggles ringing out as he lifts her up to help her “fly.” Nearby, Elias is gliding hand in hand with his girlfriend, and every now and then, he spins her around, both of them laughing in easy, joyful abandon.

But your eyes keep drifting back to Quinn, who’s just a few feet away, moving slowly across the ice with your three-year-old daughter. She’s bundled in her Canucks beanie and a tiny jersey, her skates clumsy but determined as she tries to match her dad’s easy, practiced rhythm. Quinn holds both of her hands, his head bent as he whispers something encouraging to her, laughing softly as her little legs flail with each wobbly attempt to glide.

He glances over at you, a wide grin spreading across his face as he meets your eyes, sharing in the hilarity of your daughter’s determined yet wobbly attempts. You catch his look and laugh, sharing an amused shake of your head. He’s practically beaming, every inch the proud, doting dad, and he keeps pointing things out to her, like, “see, you’re skating just like daddy!”

Your daughter giggles, her gaze flickering over to you, and she waves a little hand, calling out, “mommy, look! I’m skating!”

You give her an encouraging wave back, smiling.

“You’re doing so good!” you call out, even as you stay firmly planted by the boards, not entirely confident in your skating skills while holding a baby.

“Come on, mommy!” She beckons, twisting her neck to look at you as her feet take her in the opposite direction. But Quinn’s grip on her is steady, and he’s there to keep her upright.

Quinn seems to sense your hesitation and guides your daughter to the boards for a quick break.

“You sure you don’t want to give it a try?” he teases, stopping just in front of you, an easy and familiar smile on his face.

Your gaze lingers on the ice, shifting your weight, holding the baby close, and he senses your hesitation. You don’t trust yourself not to fall. When catch you catch his eye, he gives you a soft, reassuring smile before bending down to steady your daughter, guiding her to stand firmly between his legs for balance.

“Stay right here, Bug,” he murmurs, letting go of her little hands once she’s stable. “I’ll take him,” he says without hesitation, and with a smooth motion, extends his arms to take the baby from you, the warmth in his eyes instantly putting you at ease.

You carefully hand your son over, watching as Quinn settles him into the crook of his arm with practiced ease. Against his chest, the baby looks even tinier, his round cheeks pink from the chill and his little eyes wide as he gazes up at his dad. His tiny knitted beanie is slightly askew, and you reach over to adjust it, tucking it snugly over his ears.

“All set?” you ask, smiling down at your baby boy as he wriggles in Quinn’s hold, seemingly content in his father’s arms.

Quinn nods, his eyes soft as he glances down at your daughter, who’s still holding her ground between his legs, balancing on her skates with a proud little grin. “Time to show mom how it’s done,” he tells her.

You kneel down, grinning as you hold your hands out to your daughter. “You ready, Bug?”

She nods enthusiastically, her small, gloved hands slipping into yours, her excitement almost tangible as she steadies herself, her eyes sparkling at the thought of being on the ice with both her mom and dad. You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of warmth and love as the four of you set out, moving as a little cluster of family, Quinn leading with careful, steady strides while you and your daughter follow close behind, each wobbly step punctuated with laughter and encouragement.

As you make your way towards center ice, a couple of Quinn’s teammates glide over, laughter in their eyes as they take in the sight of your little family on the ice. JT is among them, his own kids in tow, and your daughter’s face lights up the moment she spots him.

“Uncle J!” she calls out, waving her little mittened hand enthusiastically. Her balance wobbles, and whilst you’re grasping both hands, Quinn instinctively reaches out to steady her with a gentle hand on her back, grinning at her excitement.

JT chuckles, leaning down to your daughter’s level as he glides to a stop beside you all. “Look at you out here,” he says, eyes twinkling as he gives her a high five. “Practicing for the big leagues already?”

She giggles, puffing out her chest with pride as she says, “daddy’s teaching me!”

JT chuckles. “Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

She giggles again, letting go of one of your hands and wobbling a little as she lifts one skate, trying her best to glide.

JT laughs, clapping his hands. “You’re a natural.”

But before he can say more, your daughter tugs on your hand, her face bright with determination, fuelled by the compliment.

“C’mon, mommy, let’s go,” she urges, eager to keep moving and practicing, already pulling you along with her, her little legs working hard to stay upright.

You exchange a quick, amused look with JT, who winks at you, before you let your eldest lead the way, her enthusiasm carrying you across the ice.

Quinn takes a quick moment to adjust your son in his arm, proudly showing him off to JT, who leans in with a warm smile, giving the baby an affectionate wave. “Look at this little guy,” he chuckles, clearly charmed.

“Daddy!” your daughter calls, her voice bright and insistent, as if to say, Hurry up!

“Enjoy it,” JT says simply, his voice warm with understanding as he glances at Quinn with a knowing smile.

Quinn nods, a quiet, grateful look crossing his face, before he catches up to you and your daughter.

The rink is a blur of people around you, but in this moment, it feels like it’s just the four of you, taking your time and enjoying the simple pleasure of being together. Your daughter’s giggles echo as she finds her rhythm, her little legs wobbling but steadier than when she first began, each stride more confident than the last. Her grip loosens on your hands until, with a small, determined breath, she lets go, pushing forward on her own, her arms outstretched as she glides a few cautious feet ahead of you.

With your daughter skating just ahead, you lean into Quinn, wrapping a hand around his bicep, feeling the warmth and strength of him beneath your fingers. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shifts slightly, his arm coming around to rest against your back, steering you gently as the two of you fall into a comfortable, slow pace behind her, perfectly content to just be here, watching her take these little steps of independence.

“She’s getting so big,” you murmur, a smile in your voice, though there’s a faint catch as you take in the sight of her moving so confidently ahead.

Quinn nods, his gaze fixed on her, his jaw tightening just slightly as his expression softens with quiet pride. “Yeah,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice carrying a quiet awe. “Look at her go.”

There’s a hint of wonder in his tone, as if he’s marveling at where the last three years have gone, his baby girl now a fierce, independent spirit with a strength all her own. He holds you a little closer, his hand warm and steady against your back, and for a moment, you both fall into silence, taking in the simple beauty of watching her grow.

But then, her skate catches a rough patch of ice, and her arms flail as she loses balance. For a split second, her expression shifts from confidence to a startled shock as she tips forward, her legs slipping out from under her.

The second Quinn sees her stumble, his whole body tenses. Without a word, he turns to you, carefully but swiftly handing over your son, his arms steady but urgent as he transfers the baby into your hold.

“You good?” he murmurs softly, his eyes meeting yours briefly, a flicker of worry crossing his face as he makes sure you’re steady.

Once satisfied, he’s back to her side in an instant, his strides quick and sure. He crouches down to her level, his hand already reaching out before she even has a chance to process what’s happened.

“Hey, Bug, you okay?” he asks, his voice warm and soothing, though you can catch the subtle glimmer of worry in his eyes as he scans her little face.

Your daughter blinks up at him, her eyes wide, looking more surprised than hurt. Quinn lets out a quiet breath, relief softening his expression, and he offers her a gentle smile, brushing a hand over her cheek.

“Just a little slip, huh?” he murmurs, his tone full of calm reassurance. “Daddy’s got you.”

She nods, a small, tentative smile forming as her fingers curl around his hand, finding comfort in his presence. Quinn helps her up, his hands gentle as he steadies her skates, keeping a close eye on her as she stands. He stays right by her side, his hand resting lightly on her back, offering that familiar, encouraging smile that seems to say, I’m right here.

As she takes a tentative step forward, he glances back at you, his expression softening as he catches your eye. You share a small, knowing smile, the both of you silently acknowledging the preciousness of this moment before Quinn shifts his full attention back to your daughter, ready to help her try again.

With a little encouragement from Quinn, your daughter finds her balance once more, her determination quickly returning as she gives skating another try. She beams up at him, her confidence growing with each little glide, and Quinn chuckles softly, staying close as she takes her next careful steps forward.

Just as you’re all settling back into the rhythm, one of the team photographers skates over with a warm smile, camera in hand. “Mind if I grab a quick family photo?” he asks, nodding towards your little family.

Quinn glances at his daughter, his eyes bright with that familiar, playful glint. “What do you think, Bug?” he says. “Wanna take a picture?”

She giggles, nodding eagerly, and Quinn leans down, scooping her up with ease.

With your daughter perched securely in Quinn’s arms, her little hands wrapped around his neck and her head leaning happily against his shoulder, you feel the warmth of his free arm slipping around your waist, drawing you in close. Your baby boy is snug in your arms, his tiny eyes wide with fascination as he stares up at his dad.

The team photographer raises his camera. “Alright, you all ready?“

Quinn chuckles, looking at you with a familiar smile before turning his gaze to your daughter, who beams up at him, her little face alight with pure happiness. “Smile big, Bug,” he says, giving her a gentle squeeze, which makes her giggle, her tiny hand reaching to hold onto his cheek.

As the photographer counts down, Quinn’s grip around your waist tightens slightly, pulling you in until you’re all snug together, a little family unit beaming with laughter and joy. Your daughter giggles just as the camera clicks, and Quinn glances down at you, eyes shining with a quiet happiness.

The photographer snaps a few more shots, capturing every detail: Quinn’s protective hold on both you and your daughter, the little one nestled close against your shoulder, and the pure joy radiating from each of you. It’s a snapshot of a moment you know you’ll cherish forever — the four of you, sharing a perfect, happy moment on the ice, a memory of love and warmth that will stay with you always.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[secriden]

*cracks knuckles* Okay lets talk about the elephant in the room: Style going to the support group for those who've suffered loss and telling what appears to be a fake story about losing his pet dog.

I'm going to point out a few things that I think provide a framework for Style's actions here. Not because I think it excuses what he did, but because I think a nuanced read is what the character deserves.

Point 1: An irresistible opportunity

The subs put the "Support Group for Loss" on the image in the notebook, but I'm not sure there's anything to suggest that Style would've known that was what this image represents until he showed up and saw the sign on top of the door.

In episode 2, Bison says, "He plans everything down from years, months, weeks to days" and then tells Kant:

So Style is literally just going to addresses/locations at given days and times, potentially not knowing what to expect. And as much as Fadel is certainly attending this meeting as a response to having that heartbreaking flashback (😭), this is also something he attends regularly and has planned to attend way in advance. So Style has no reason to think Fadel is attending this meeting because of a recent resurfacing of his pain.

What we, the audience, and what the characters know are very different things.

Now, should Style have turned his cute ass right around once he realised what this meeting was? Of course he should. But that wouldn't have been true to Style's character. We've been told by his best friend that he is "crazy" and been shown repeatedly that he lives right up to that description.

Style is impulsive. He's all base instinct and he acts on his desires without thought or contemplation. And by this point he is desperate for a deeper connection with Fadel. He's fascinated, captivated by the mystery that is Fadel and this is an excellent opportunity to finally see behind the wall Fadel so carefully maintains.

When Style sees the sign above the door, Style looks at the notebook (which, again, shows nothing but people sitting in a circle with the words RISE UP) like he's just realising what it means. He then gets this amused, almost rueful look on his face (like he's thinking "am I really going to do this?") before it shifts to determination and he walks through the door.

(My soul for the ability to once again gif something because FUCK Dunk is doing SO MUCH in this show!!)

To Style, this is just too good of an opportunity to give up.

Because let's be real, Fadel is so clearly lying and hiding something:

Fadel is shady as FUCK. He is simultaneously actually a really good cook (Style finally tries his burger so he knows, now), and also has the skills to work at a strip host club, and also can take on 3 guys in a fight, and also can break a man's arm with his thighs. Can you honestly blame Style for losing his mind just a little bit about wanting to get his hands on something, anything, to figure this man out?

Style is being absolutely consistent in his persistence to understand Fadel. This isn't about the car or about finally 'winning' the fight (thank you @airenyah for giving such a detailed framework to understand what Style's been doing until this point) anymore. This is about Style wanting to know Fadel himself.

Point 2: The potential implications of the setting

Now, what might give us a bit of insight as to why Style is this way? I have a theory (albeit one that could prove to be very wrong, but hear me out). I think this whole entire show is set in what could potentially be quite a small town/suburb.

There's a few things that make this theory plausible:

(1) Fadel and Bison are in hiding after Bison blew their previous cover. They're probably on the run from some section of the authorities and so it makes sense to settle in a quiet/out of the way place.

(2) Style seems to be really familiar with the people in the area. Like he grew up there and its the kind of small town where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone else's business.

(3) Style is clearly the darling of the market aunties and uncles.

Style just lost her a sale and potentially a loyal customer, and she's still rooting for him? In episode 2, when Style asks the uncle to let him borrow his cart, it takes nothing but his word for the uncle to give Style his entire cart of produce for his ridiculous scheme.

Style is so clearly someone they all know well and have great affection for, and a very plausible explanation for this is that they all watched him grow up and the entire market (town/village) is fond of him.

And honestly?? Yeah, we see the way Style is actually quite sweet in that careless, guileless, thoughtless way. He goes the extra mile to fix his mistake with Fadel by replacing his car parts for free in episode 1. He helps out by taking orders in episode 2 without being asked and takes it seriously. In episode 3, he tries to drive more business to Fadel's store (bless him, he so clearly does NOT understand how restaurants work, but he MEANS well!!), and can we all acknowledge that it works?? He understands how to appeal to potential customers in the area because he knows the people there. It's not (entirely) his fault that Fadel wasn't remotely prepared for an actual rush crowd and Bison was off getting kinky with Kant and not doing his (fake) job. He is so clear about not judging Fadel's host job and tries his hardest to help him (to absolutely NO effect, but still) when the 3 guys gang up on Fadel.

Style is so loved and more importantly so very loveable.

Point 3: What this could mean for Style's character

So, potentially, Style is someone who grew up in a small town, who has been well loved, potentially spoiled and coddled, but also very much kept within the confines of the narrow viewpoint that a quiet, country town places on you.

It's in the way his dad scolds him as if he was still a child when he's at least in his mid to late 20s. It's in the way Style was so mad at Fadel for scolding him ("thanks for the lecture, dad"), like that hit a sore point for Style. It's in the way no one in the market takes him seriously; they're fond, but he's still a kid in their eyes. It's in the way he has an abundance of free time like he doesn't REALLY need to work at his dad's shop. It's in the way he sees Fadel beat 3 guys up with ease, starts wondering if Fadel is an assassin or a hitman, and is completely unfazed like he doesn't quite have a handle on reality.

It's in the way his best friend is a man who has no qualms about lying to him and putting his life in danger, and how Style seems to have no other friends or people (aside from his dad) in his life.

@wuxian-vs-wangji made a comment to me about Style being desperate for a meaningful connection, and I think she hit the nail on the head. Because along comes Fadel, a mysterious stranger with a suspiciously versatile set of skills who is also very hot and keeps giving Style these wonderfully complex reactions? Who sometimes wants nothing to do with Style, but at other times seems to be at war within himself about desperately wanting him? Who treats Style with anything but apathy?

This is catnip to Style; he never had any hope of resisting this.

Breaking news: Style is a complex and imperfect character...

Here's the thing, though: he was never going to try. The show has been incredibly upfront about who Style is as a person. Regardless of whether I'm correct about why he is this way (ie. that he is very much the product of the environment that didn't know how to handle a kid with Style's personality), episode 3 shouldn't have surprised anyone about Style. He's been incredibly consistent and true to himself.

He wants Fadel and he's "crazy" enough to go all in, no holds barred about it, and the Support Group was the biggest doorway to finally discovering something REAL about Fadel.

And its not just about sex or to prove his superiority anymore. Because if it was just that, then Style would have reacted very differently to their first time.

In this scene, Style is pleased and evidently enjoying himself, but he isn't exuberant. He isn't overcome with joy. If anything, he was more happy and excited when Fadel let him help out in the diner (I mentioned this in the tags in this post too) than he was when Fadel is literally fucking him. He lets Fadel set the pace; barely moves to touch Fadel except to hold him close. Almost like he doesn't want to accidentally mess this up, like he's worried he'll take too much, so he'll take what Fadel gives him and no more (please appreciate @braceletofteeth's amazing tags on this post). For a character that has been so aggressively on the offensive, this is shocking until you realise that sleeping with Fadel - while it's a step in the right direction - isn't Style's end goal anymore.

And he makes that abundantly clear in this episode:

Does Style even fully realise the weight of this desire? I doubt it. But I do believe that Style is in earnest. He doesn't fully understand his own feelings, but he also doesn't really care to either. All he knows is that he wants Fadel, wants his attention and his passion and his focus and his heart.

...but Style is also kind of, sort of, perfect.

Because he's exactly, precisely, breathtakingly exactly what Fadel needs.

Because Fadel is hurt and broken and bleeding inside. Because Fadel is barely holding it all together for Bison's sake, but has already given up hope for any true happiness for himself. Because Fadel can't trust anyone or anything in his life, when he's been used and used and used by the family who should've loved and cared and protected him.

Because it's going to take nothing short of this kind of unwavering, unshakable, uncomplicated determination to give Fadel even a chance of healing and opening his heart to love again.

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Tim: Bruce, I figured I should be straight with you.

Bruce: What? Tim, I’m very proud of you and support you

Tim: What?

Tim: Oh not that kind of straight! I’m still openly bi. I’m trying to have a serious conversation.

Bruce: Oh

[not-so-superheroine]

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Dean Winchester of Supernatural fame is NOT reading parenting books he is putting on Cheaper By The Dozen, Daddy Daycare and Honey I Shrunk The Kids taking notes.

[ivypond11]

it's been a week and i still haven't recovered </3 so i did a little sketch with this scene between normal and scary because it fucked me up and i need more moments of them comforting and caring for each other