#how very dare he

[vexic929]

Bartholomew Allen, sir, you are giving me too many emotions, quit it!

[nikolai-alexi]

imagine being james fucking potter and having the audacity to have TWO soulmates and the god damn nerve to have BOTH of them as black brothers.

[illgiveyouallofme]

I’m driving to Mike Farrell’s house. I’m knocking on his door. I’m demanding to know what he was thinking when he wrote & directed War Co-Respondent.

[whimsicalgoose]

thinking about spock being too human for vulcan, and too vulcan for most humans... and then there's kirk who looks at him with huge homosexual eyes and trusts spock with his life time and time again. and compliments his mind. and compliments the glimpses of his emotions. THEY MAKE ME ILL!!!!

[taitavva]

I am honestly so, so sorry, I didnt intend to break your neck it isnt my fault really, that I did not realise you were so very fragile, it was not even until the juddering grind of tooth on bone that I even knew

you were dead.

[A terrible apology (from a dog to a dead bird) - The Bad Thing by Maisie Cowell]

[tubbytarchia]

shut up I'm on my drawing kisses arc

[muddyorbsblr]

excuse me sir how deep did huh--

Nice Freudian slip, Thomas.

[starry-bi-sky]

(Part of this post with older brother danyal al ghul)

...Okay, look. Sam knows she's staring. She knows very well that she is staring. And that if she doesn't stop staring it's gonna draw her unwanted attention, and that will only have to make her explain why she's staring. Which she doesn't want to do.

She's trying not to stare, which she thinks she should get brownie points for. She tries to look away, to find a spot on the wall to stare lifelessly at, maybe she can burn holes into some of these annoying socialites' heads. But eventually her eyes drift, and suddenly she's back to staring again.

Can you blame her though? Damian Wayne looks like a very close mini-me of her fucking best friend. Seriously, it's like looking into a mirror to the past. If that mirror to the past had green eyes rather than blue and a distinctive lack of a facial scar.

The first time she sees him when her parents drag her over to Bruce Wayne to butter up to him she has to do a doubletake. Then a triple take. Then a quadruple take, just for good measure that she was seeing what she was actually seeing. She was sure she looked like one of those stress toys that when squeezed had their eyes pop out comically like a Saturday morning cartoon, that's what she certainly felt like anyways.

Look, Danny's come a decent way from being that scowl-y, jerkish little ten year old she first met when he arrived like the wind to Amity Park five years ago (even if he was still occasionally scowl-y and jerkish), but one thing that's stayed the same is how reserved he is about his home life prior to being taken in by the Fentons.

He doesn't talk about it much, and Sam's come to know that he's very good at changing the subject when it gets brought up. Even after being friends for nearly four years, the only thing she and Tuck know for certain is that he has a little brother that he refers to as 'starlight', whom he cares a lot about but left on really bad terms with. And that he's never met his father, but wants to and knows who he is.

He's never told her or Tucker who he was though, and glancing at Bruce Wayne, Sam is realizing why. She can begrudgingly acknowledge all the good he's done for Gotham, but... well, if Danny told her that Bruce Wayne was his dad, she wouldn't have believed him at all.

But she's starting to see the resemblance, as subtle as it is.

And she sees the resemblance to Damian Wayne, her eyes dropping back down to him as he wears a very Danny-like scowl on his face, arms crossed behind his back as his eyes swept around the ballroom. He was five years younger than Danny, and god it was so, so weird.

His eyes turned on to her, and they locked gazes for a moment.

Involuntarily, Sam makes a startled noise and looks away. Fingers tap against her purse, black and purple and unfortunately a clutch that only held her phone and her wallet in it. She would have kept a knife on her, but her parents put their foot down and there was a security detail at the door. Only in Gotham.

Silently, she was hoping that the little Danny-me didn't say anything. Or at least, he hadn't noticed her staring. Which was a tall order if she ever heard one -- and unfortunately, her silent prayers went unanswered as her mother's eyes dropped down onto her.

"Did you say something, Samantha?" She asks in a sickeningly sweet voice, a sound that makes Sam's skin crawl. Her dad and Bruce Wayne's attention also turns onto her, and she glowers at her mom from the corner of her eye.

"I didn't say anything." Sam says, barely keeping her tone polite as she turned her head away. Her mother clucks her tongue, disapproving, but from her peripherals doesn't pester her more

Bruce Wayne, the bastard, takes that time to turn to Sam and grace her with his dime-a-dozen billboard smiles. "I've been talking with your parents this whole time, Miss Manson, you must be terribly bored. How is your schooling going?"

Sam eyes him up and down. On one hand, she immediately wants to be snarky. It's none of his business what her school life is like, she doesn't care for his fucking small talk.

On the other hand, this was Danny's whole father. Someone who she knows that Danny has wanted to meet for, what she's assuming, his whole life. He's never brought it up much, but she remembers that very quiet, solemn conversation she and Tucker had with him where he admits to having never met his dad. But god does he want to.

And... wait. Sam's eyes narrow, and she meets Bruce Wayne's eyes. Does this man even know Danny exists? She drops her gaze down to Damian, who was staring at her suspiciously, and then back up to Bruce, and she alternates between them.

Why was Damian living with Bruce, but not Danny? Why hasn't Bruce done anything to reach out to him - what was going on with Danny's biological family that Danny had to be separated from them, but not Damian? Danny's always been kinda mysterious, but now things weren't adding up.

Was Danny given up? Does Bruce just not want Danny, but wanted Damian? Why the fuck does Bruce Wayne know about Damian but not her best friend -- or does he know and just not care? He's fought for custody for his adoptive kids before, does he just not want to fight for his other biological son? Does he think Danny's not worth it?

She's never cared much about the Wayne family before, other than to hear about the advancements on WE's eco-friendly tech, but Sam thinks she's gonna have to look into why Damian Wayne was living with the Waynes.

Slowly, with a protective anger beginning to burn in her gut and crawl up her throat, a scowl slowly curls at the corner of her lip as she redirects her glare from her mother onto Bruce. "It's going fine," She says curtly, jutting her chin out defiantly. "Me and my friend Danny started a petition to fix the leaky faucets in the girls and boys' bathrooms in order to conserve more water for the rest of the city."

She eyes his face, waiting to see if anything like recognition flashes through it. And- and nothing. Sam breathes in slowly through her nose, trying to quell the red that's blurring the edge of her vision -- does he just, not know where Danny is?

Her parents however, make vaguely displeased expressions. "Our Samantha is... quite passionate about her pet projects." Her dad says, laughing low and nervously, "she's very vocal about silly things like that."

"Her friend Daniel is perhaps even worse than she is sometimes." Her mother adds on, fanning her face with her perfectly manicured hands with a sigh. "I swear, he's the one that keeps dragging her into these things."

Sam's anger turns on its head, and she whirls on her heel like a fire-breathing dragon. "It's Danyal." It rolls out like instinct. Danny's told them both that he hates the Americanized pronunciation of his name, but in a rare moment of restraint, puts up with it for reasons unknown to her. "And Danny doesn't make me do anything, it was my idea."

The name, Danyal, seems to ring some kind of bell in Brucie Wayne's head, because she sees him and Damian quietly perk up like two cats pricking up their ears. Her eyes flick onto him immediately, something dangerous rearing its head. So Bruce Wayne knows about Danny. And he's not reaching out to him. Is he? She's not sure.

She does know that she's gonna rip his throat out if she finds out that he's known about Danny this entire time and has been ignoring him while favoring his little brother. She'll hunt down Aragon herself and steal his dragon-shifting amulet and wreck house on Bruce Wayne if that's the case. Batman and his league of vigilantes be damned. Her parents don't notice her slowly turning head towards Bruce.

But Bruce does, and she makes direct eye contact with him. His smile doesn't falter, he just tilts his head like a curious puppy and looks at Sam's parents. She hopes Bruce can read minds, she hopes he can hear her threatening him.

"Danyal?" He asks, and Sam doesn't know if she hates the fact that he said it correctly or not. She just continues burning holes into him and hoping he might spontaneously combust.

Her mother waves her hand dismissively, tilting her nose up poshly into the air. "Our dear Samantha's little... foster friend from school," she says, not even bothering to hide her disdain, "a creepy little boy with the most garish scar on his face. He's a rude little thing, not good for polite company."

Scratch that, Sam mentally alternates between ripping into her parents and Bruce. She whirls on them. "Do not talk about Danny that way." She all but snarls, and they all but ignore her.

(She's tearing up the upholstery when she gets home. She's going to paint over the fine china. She's going to do something to make them pay for this.)

"Oh yes, he was taken in by that freaky Fenton family a few years ago." Her dad continues in lieu of her mom, and they both shake their heads disapprovingly. "It's just what our city needs, another menace."

"Danny is not a menace." Sam continues, raising her voice while her hands shake with rage. Her parents finally look at her, but she can already tell that they're going to scold her for raising her voice. She bulldozes over them and jabs her black-painted finger at them. "He's got a bigger heart than the both of you combined."

"Samantha, please." her mom says, exasperated. They both give her disapproving looks, Sam thinks about grabbing champagne off the tray of a nearby waiter and throwing it in their faces. "You defend that boy far too much. What do you actually know about him and his family?"

Sam sets her jaw, puffing herself up like a dragon protecting its hoard. She steps into her mom's space. "I know that he loves the stars; you can ask him anything about astronomy and he could give you an entire lecture on the formation, class types, and various gasses that stars are made up of. He can tell you how the Earth was formed, he can tell you about the visible light spectrum and about light curves, and a whole ton of other stuff that I don't really understand. But Danny loves talking about it."

Her face twists and scowls, "I know he cares a ton about the environment and about fixing light pollution, and preserving the forests and natural habitats of animals." She nearly jabs her finger into her mom's chest, "I know he loves dogs, and that there's one he feeds every day on the way to school that he calls Cujo, its a St. Bernard puppy and Danny carries him around whenever he sees him after school, and is in the middle of training him."

It's not a total lie, but it's not the whole truth either. Cujo doesn't need food, but Danny gives him it anyways. "I know he likes spicy food and loves movies but specifically only sci-fi and horror, and he hates most martial arts movies. His favorite superhero is the Martian Manhunter, but Batman comes in at a close second." For reasons to her that were pretty unknown, but it didn't matter.

"I know he loves wordplay and making puns, which I would have never expected from him when we first met, but it's so unbelievably Danny-like that I can't imagine him not making puns." And she smiles a little to herself, she remembers the first time Danny intentionally made a pun once and it got startled laughs out of both her and Tucker.

Her smile suddenly falters, and she swallows. Her lips purse up, wobbling, and she very quickly glances over to Damian Wayne, of whom is watching her with a vaguely bewildered expression alongside Bruce.

She turns her eyes back onto her parents. "And I know that he worries a lot, even if he has a shit way of showing it. I know he had a little brother that he hasn't seen since he was adopted by the Fentons, and he doesn't talk about him often but when he does he he calls him 'starlight'." From the corner of her eye, she sees Damian jerk.

"So- so, so what if he's not 'good for polite company'." Sam's voice, embarrassingly, cracks down the middle. But she's so angry over Danny's behalf that she doesn't really care. "Or that he can be mean, and critical, and stubborn. He's learning, and he's becoming kinder by the day. That's more than I can say about you."

(She remembers when Danny finally admitted to her and Tucker being his 'closest friends'. It was sometime before the portal incident, and it felt like a milestone because beforehand he only really referred to them as his companions or allies.)

(At the time, he'd looked unsure of himself. Skittish like a stray in the back of an alleyway, almost shy in his own way. It had come out stilted, slow, like an infant taking its first steps, and it would have been endearing if it hadn't been heartbreaking.)

Her parents rear back like she'd struck them, and her mother holds a hand against her chest in aghast. Sam doesn't care, she blinks the sting out of her eyes. "Samantha." Her mother starts.

Sam cuts her off, "I don't care what you have to say, you-- you pricks." she snaps, around her, there are gasps. Belatedly, she realizes she's grown an audience, but again she doesn't care. "Danny might be an asshole, but he cares. And I'd rather be around someone whose mean but cares, than someone whose nice but doesn't."

With that, she whirls on her foot and turns on Bruce Wayne, who has been silent the entire time with a surprised expression on his face. He starts to shake out of it when Sam turns to him, but she doesn't give him the chance to speak. "Enjoy your party." She snarls, and then stalks away.

[razzafrazzle]

my love for foppish fictional men truly knows no bounds

[image description: two drawings focusing on flavio from paper mario: the thousand-year door. the first picture of flavio singing, drawn in a simple, sketchy style. the second drawing is a comic. the first panel shows mario and goombella sitting across from flavio, who has a dreamy expression on his face and is saying, "we shall gather a crew and set off on a journey of romance!". the second panel is of goombella replying by saying "yknow that there are only male sailors in rogueport, right?", with a note below that panel saying "shes a lesbian shes just also homophobic". the third panel is of flavio looking confused, followed by the final panel of flavio in front of a rainbow background as he says "yes? does flavio stutter??". end id]

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴜɢɢʟᴇ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

We will meet again.

Short summary: You know your way around your town, which is why a handsome stranger at your local Christmas market instantly catches your attention. However, you surely are in for a surprise…

A/N: Posting this at 6am bc I have no life. Part two coming asap (buckle up for some hate fucking)

wordcount: 1,8k

part 2

The powdery snow crunches under the sole of your winter boots as you stroll through the Christmas market in your town. You inhale deeply, the smell of freshly baked gingerbread and orange-scented mulled whine filling your senses. Small children run around, screeching as they chase each other with snowballs. Your friends agreed to meet you later that evening, so for now, you enjoyed some alone time.

As you pass a group of musicians playing Christmas carols, a handsome stranger catches your attention. He is wearing a black winter coat and leather gloves, one hand in the pocket of his coat while he is gesturing towards the exit with the other, seemingly more than ready to leave. His beautiful brunette curls fall onto his forehead on one side, a few snowflakes sticking to his hair.

The longer you stare at him, the more curious you become where he might be from, given that you live in a fairly small town and everyone knows each other. You two lock eyes for a brief moment before he returns his attention to who you assume to be his friends. They soon turn their heads too, grinning when they spot who he was looking at. “Shit.” You curse under your breath, quickly disappearing behind a jewellery stand.

Tom did not want to be there by any means. Yet Mattheo, Draco and Theo had somehow convinced him to accompany them. Or, as he suspected, drugged him into compliance. These ridiculous muggle traditions and celebrations had even as a kid infuriated him. Not to mention that he was freezing in this weather, every tiny snowflake melting on his coat only adding to his irritation.

“I am leaving. I have had enough of this.” He sneers, pointing towards the exit. The others don’t pay his complaints any attention, exchanging knowing glances and resuming their conversation. Tom’s eyes wander around the market as the musicians begin another song. That’s when he spots you – staring right back at him.

Your figure is hidden beneath a thick winter jacket, a red scarf wrapped snugly around your neck, and a thin layer of snow covering the top of your head.

“Tom?”

He snaps out of his thoughts and turns toward his brother. “What were you-“ Mattheo begins, but stops mid-sentence, turning to scan the place. A sly grin forms on his lips as he sees you quickly turn to leave. “I see, I see. Tom Riddle ogling a muggle girl, huh?”

A scoff escapes Tom. “I wasn’t.”

The others laugh at how unconvincing his answer was. A whole new Tom had just emerged from Merlin knows where. Even he himself couldn’t believe the uncertainty in his voice, there was no way a muggle girl could be this intriguing at first sight. For the next few minutes he found himself unable to get his mind off you no matter what he tried, utterly convinced you had to be a witch as well. That was exactly what he was going to attempt to find out.

“I will be back.” Tom excuses himself, not waiting for an answer, heading in the direction you had disappeared. “Have fun!” The others tease, but he doesn’t care a bit. He had to find you.

“Thanks so much!” You smile, handing the man behind the counter some cash in exchange for a steaming hot cup of berry-flavoured tea. The brunette’s gaze still lingers in your mind, and secretly you wish he had followed you. There was something about him – something strange almost. An energy you had never felt before.

The cup warms your hands, numb from the cold as you stupidly enough had forgotten your gloves at home. Taking a first careful sip of your tea, you make your way to find a bench. Or so you think.

Just as you pass a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, a tall figure appears in front of you. You bump into him, spilling the tea everywhere. “God, I am so sorry!” You apologize, hissing at the burning sensation of the hot liquid dripping over your freezing fingers. As you look up, you instantly recognize the brunette from earlier in front of you. Your eyes widen in surprise and you realize you had thoroughly drenched his coat. You reach out instinctively to assess the damage, however he catches your wrist and stops you.

“Hold on. I got it.”

Not in your wildest dreams you could have imagined what happens next. From inside his coat he pulls out a long, weirdly shaped object, a stick you think. With just a small wave the spilled tea vanishes into thin air, the soaked spot on his coat drying up instantly.

Your eyes widen in horror, and you let out a small huff. “What are you? Some kind of magician?” You try to laugh the rising unease off, although seriously concerned by what the man in front of you had just done. He looks at you with a stern expression, realizing he was mistaken, you weren’t a witch. “I am much more than a magician.” The brunette murmurs and with another wave of that strange stick…

“Obliviate.”

The memory of what had just happened fades from your mind. Tom surely wasn’t going to take any chances with the Ministry, performing magic in front of a muggle could get you into serious trouble after all.

A tall figure, whom you recognize immediately, appears from behind the tree. It’s him, he had followed you after all. “Hey” you say, smiling. He nods. Just as you are about to take another sip of your tea, you realize the mug is almost empty, even though you had just bought it a minute ago.

“It’s leaking.” The brunette suggests, pointing to a drop forming beneath the porcelain mug. You check it and it’s true what he said. “Seems like you are right” you reply, looking behind you to see if you had spilled more, strangely enough though, that wasn’t the case. “But why-“

“I’ll get you a new one.” He interrupts, hands in the pockets of his coat as he strides toward the hut where you had bought it from. You follow him, tell him he doesn’t need to, yet he insists.

He hands you a fresh cup of the same tea you had before, which makes you wonder how he knew your choice, but deciding it might just be a coincidence, you let it go. “Thank you” you say, shooting him a small smile.

Tom didn’t know why he stayed after finding out you were a muggle, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave. There was something different about you. He had noticed it the moment your eyes met, and he noticed it again now.

Both of you just stand there in silence for a moment and as soon as you take in his stern facial expression, you laugh, drawing his gaze to you. “You seem awfully unpleased to be here. Did your friends drag you along?”

“You could say so.” He replies, eyes flickering between you and some children running around nearby. “What’s your name, by the way? I have never seen you here before, and believe me, I know every soul in this town.”

“I am Tom, and not from here. So you couldn’t possibly know me.” He replies, his expression never changing into a friendlier one. “Well, Tom,” you grin, grabbing the sleeve of his coat. “I’d love to show you around then.”

Despite his initial resistance, you lead him through the market, trying out seasonal treats at various stands he has apparently never had before. “These are disgusting.” He remarks, handing you the roasted chestnuts he bought only a minute ago. You furrow your eyebrows, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t say that. They are my favourite!”

The next stop brings you to the children’s choir, watching them perform in front of their proud parents. You notice that each time there is a crowd, Tom goes silent, observing his surroundings intently. “Hey, what’s up?” You ask him, finishing your chestnuts.

“I hate everything about this.” He grumbles, and you two make your way out of the crowd, sitting down on a nearby bench.

“There is no reason for you to be so grumpy. It’s Christmas! The season of love and peace.”

Tom shakes his head. “I don’t care about either of those.”

“Poor Tom had his heart broken recently?” You tease, a playful tone in your voice. By the look he shoots you, you realize you had most likely struck a nerve and you apologize.

He doesn’t respond.

For a minute you sit there in awkward silence, the flickering lights from a nearby tree casting a colorful glow on his dark curls.

Ping.

You reach in your handbag and pull out your phone, seeing that your friends had texted you. Tom turns his head, looking at you like he had never seen a phone before. Your eyes meet his. “Some of my friends are going to be here soon. We could go to the ferris wheel then if you’d like?” You try to ease the tension, but he has other plans. “I am going to get going then.”

“No, stay! They would surely love to meet you.” You insist, placing your hand on his, feeling his warmth on your palm. He cocks an eyebrow at the sudden touch and you blush, pulling your hand back. “Sorry.” you whisper.

Your head shoots up as you hear familiar voices calling for you and you stand up to wave your friends over to where you two are sitting. Tom on the other hand takes the opportunity to leave, making his way back to the others. Talking to one muggle was bad enough.

Of course, they tease him on their way back to Hogwarts. He doesn’t care, though. You are still on his mind, and he can’t seem to forget you, much to his dismay. Too friendly, too cheerful for his liking. And who did you think you were to make fun of him?

He had it planned out – sweet revenge.

“Let me introduce you to someone I met just an hour ago!” You turn around to Tom, or atleast to where you think he was sitting. However, there is no one. He is gone. “Who exactly are we talking about? You are making friends with benches now?” Your friends laugh and you frown. “I swear he was just-“

The evening passes quickly and though you still enjoyed yourself, you couldnt figure out where Tom went. There was no way he could have disappeared that quickly. As you arrive home, you sit down on your bed, emptying your handbag, when an unfamiliar object catches your attention. It’s a gorgeous silver necklace, an emerald green gem hanging from the delicate chain. With it, you find a note.   

We will meet again.

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

OP: Check out. The fully-sexual charged cinematic movement design.

Cnetizens: How did the director come up with the idea to have him kneel on a playing card, adding so much aesthetic energy, is that some kind of genius?

[mcvices]

"OK, look, I'm not going to download actor pictures. Well, pictures of Shen Wei, maybe those. Or the behind the scenes ones. Or the ones where Zhu Yilong has a ponytail. Or the ones with the massage rollers that look like sex toys. But otherwise..."

(my computer's biggest partition is now the Z1L one)

(I regret nothing)

(except his face)

me, three weeks ago: i wonder what this whole guardian fuss is about? it doesn’t really look like my kind of show but maybe i’ll just casually watch it???

me, today: i hope today is the day where zhu yilong finally realizes that he’s so far away from average-looking

[xxplastic-cubexx]

if i said i picked up this issue for anything but drunk erik i fear i'd be lying

(Wolverine (2020) #3)

[willowser]

not to be so disgusting and gross about gojo on the dash but i think he's such a flirty, teasing idiot that, when you show him genuine and true affection, he goes all somber and quiet.

like you come up to him after dinner and stand on your tip-toes and hug him for no reason, give him a fat kiss on the cheek for no reason, and he just — lets you. doesn't say anything, just kind of hums and lightly places his hands on your hips, so gently you might not even know they're there. you tell him, "i love you, thank you for eating with me," and he presses his mouth to the top of your head, lips squished, and says it back, but there's no jokes, no teasing remarks. he just allows himself to be weak and to bask in it, for as long as he can.

[wat-zu]

Dysfunctional family au— showdown aftermath, one week later

[coffeenonsense]

"Wah the woke gay agenda has gone too far they put gambit in a crop top" first of all I can't believe this is an actual take i saw with my eyes online. he looks incredible cry harder about it

secondly complaining about gay shit (like crop tops??!) in legitimately any iteration of x-men is a complete failure of media comprehension on a truly apocalyptic level

thirdly I want you to take a look at this picture and tell me where you see a single fucking ounce of heterosexuality. Look at this man in a pink breastplate, trenchcoat, thigh high boots and fingerless gloves and tell me where in the room the straightness is hiding:

PLEASE.