#please let me hold him

[alwyswnadie]

baby!! look at him!!! :((((

[i-meani-guess]

We don’t talk about Swiss’s waist enough. It’s just so?? Wanna hold him real close?? It’s so?? I go feral over Swiss hips

[irhabiya]

another campaign brought to my attention by a palestinian i speak personally with, and i trust its legitamcy. Hamdy has suffered great loss since the start of this genocide, his mother, aunt, siblings, cousins, neices and nephews, and 5 month old sister were martyred. despite making the campaign months ago, Hamdy has only received FIVE donations so far, and hasn't gotten any donations in months.

please share and donate to his campaign, no amount is too little!

€95 / €10,000

tagging for reach

@terroristiraqi @shamemp3 @three-croissants @srdcovka @90-ghost @fairuzfan @mithli @7amaspayrollmanager @opencommunion @anti-democratic-russian-bot @tamamita @feluka @gabajoofs @aristotels @huzni @themeoflauramp3 @witchywitchy @ma3moul @khargooshe @womenintheirwebs @splashporpoise @flouryhedgehog @revindicatedbyhistory @german-milfs @breadmp3 @bassia-bassensis @anneemay @antiquititties @anyab

[egophiliac]

:) hello! :D hope you have a nice day and absolutely do not think of the possibility of one of the last story cards being of silver! and that his groovy will very probably be crying!!! THERE'S SO MANY CRYING PEOPLE IN STORY CARDS LATELY!!! SPECIALLY LIGHT USERS!! I AM!!! SCARED!!!! bc so far we got Lilia and Sebek in the beginning book 7.... so at the end.... so we're missing story Silver... and Malleus is the one with less cards, so they might add one for him... but... the tears... ego.... THE TEARS!!!! EGOOOO!! (LOVE YOUR ART BTW EVERYTIME I GET A NOTIF FROM YOUR BLOG I RUN HERE TO SEE!)

(thank you! 💚💜💚)

YES I am ALSO like...90-95% convinced that we're going to be getting a story card for Silver once we wrap around back to diasomnia. 👀 especially because the way things are going, Silver will be the only character whose dream we haven't seen -- yet???? -- and that just. y'know. makes me wonder!

although I do think it would be VERY funny if he got a story card and the groovy was just "regular Silver except with one beautiful single crystal tear". this is actually a lot coming from him.

(he used up all his emotion yelling at a baby that one time, there's none left for a proper groovy-level cry.)

[shibusawa-breeder]

I am so normal about this man I am definitely not crying thinking about him hugging you hhhh

“𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐭?”

☆ Ft. Paul Verlaine

☆  Verlaine immediately has a frown on his face when he hears you ask this, eyebrows scrunched together as he turns to look at you. He’s shocked that someone as wonderful as yourself could think such a thing. How could he ever grow tired of you, how have you not grown tired of him? This is the only thing crossing his mind at first.

☆  And it leads to an anger of sorts, because in his mind it almost feels like you’re making a mockery of what he feels, selfish as that may be. You’re not inhuman, you’re not unlovable or wretched, so how could you possibly understand what it’s like to feel like a burden, to fear having someone cast you aside? It’s unfathomable to him, but he doesn’t vocalise any of those thoughts. 

☆  Especially when he sees the forlorn look on your face, when he notices the way you seem to curl in on yourself, almost as if you’re scared of what he’ll say. It hits him that what he’s seeing is the truth, that there is no ulterior motive to your question, no sense of mockery; just you and him and that feeling of being ever so discardable. 

☆  And it scares Verlaine, leaves him uneasy to his very core because he just feels so… helpless. Made worse by the fact that a part of him is certain that he’s the reason that you’re feeling like this, that it’s nothing more than a mere byproduct of knowing him.

☆ Yet despite that there’s another part of Verlaine that almost wants to say that yes, he’s bored of you, to take this chance as a way to free you of himself and how he taints you, ruins you with every moment spent in his presence. But the thought dies as soon as it’s born, and with an uncharacteristically shaky sigh and a sense of understanding only he could possess, Verlaine tries his best to comfort you.

“Oh, mon ange,” Paul’s voice is gentle and kind as he speaks, and yet in it’s tone there is something you could almost consider to be accusatory, an offence just as subtle as the sharpness in his honeyed eyes, “I understand how you feel, more than you could ever know.”

And then there’s a sigh, something sad and quiet, before you see his shoulders slump and a hand goes to ruffle through his hair. His usual bravado is lost as he gets to his feet, replaced with - as he walks over to you - an almost uncharacteristic bout of unease, hands coming to rest on your shoulders before squeezing lightly. 

“Do you really think so low of yourself as to believe that I could just throw you away?” There’s a distant look on his face, as if he’s remembering something from long ago. You’re given no chance to think about it however, not with Paul’s arms pulling you close to his chest, head coming to rest in the crook of your neck.

“Mon âme, je t'aime plus que tout au monde.”

[probablysimpledreams]

lovesick keigo who is a gift giver. between his upbringing and lack of romantic experience, he often struggles to vocalize how he feels. he finds he can express his love smoothly through gifts rather it be shiny rock his bird tendencies could not pass up on, a diamond necklace that hero paycheck covers without a fuss, or a mini clay sculpture of you two holding hands he tried his hardest to make cute. he makes sure to pour all his heart and love into every gift he gives you, proud smile on his face as you adore every item.

lovesick keigo who can only sleep if you're by his side. he's always struggled with episodes of insomnia, and then when he could sleep he'd be plagued with nightmares. however, when he has you in his arms, he can finally experience peace. your presence and love ground him, allowing him to finally rest. many dates are spent just laying around in bed together, his overworked body and mind finally able to take a break.

lovesick keigo who loves dancing around the kitchen with you. he has an extensive collection of old vinyls, so will throw on some romantic music and pull you into his arms. the moonlight lighting up the room as his wings flutter, spinning you around. the sound of your laugh mixes with his before kissing you tenderly. it's soft moments like this he remembers why he's fighting so hard, why protecting the world matters.

lovesick keigo who is a big fan of morning sex before he has to head out to work. he's always been a vivid dreamer when he's able to sleep, so it doesn't take long for those usual nightmares to turn into sexy wet dreams. at first he was really embarrassed by his actions, quick to run out of bed and clean up before you could notice. however, as time passes in the relationship he becomes more comfortable expressing his needs and desires. you definitely weren't complaining as he took sweet care of you, his low sleepy voice singing your praises as he fucked you, the soft morning sun rise sneaking through the blinds to illuminate the room.

lovesick keigo who loves eating pussy. he could go for hours, face buried between your thighs and he devours you. he keeps his hands tight on your thighs, forcing your body to stay still as he works you up. his face is completely soaked by the time he finally releases you from his grip, damp spot in his boxers, taking a moment to catch his breath before begging you to let him go for another round. he loves pleasuring you, the way your body shakes and the way his name leaves your mouth in desperate cries. he craves it.

lovesick keigo who found home in you. he feels so seen and valued by you. he doesn't have to work for your love, he just has to be who he is. at first this felt uncomfortable, the fact you didn't expect anything from him aside from pure authenticity scared him. yet despite how much it scared it, it excited him even more. he finally found where he belonged, a life and love to call his own. he's willing to do everything in this world to keep you by his side.

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[marblerose-rue]

new lioden king except ive had him for a couple weeks :-)

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - The Raven (1963)

[crianpy]

LET ME SPOIL THAT OLD MAN!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

[greenglowsgold]

The List.

Based on the Cass Apocalyptic Series.

The first part of this has been rumbling around in my brain ever since that Super Sad Scene a month ago, but yesterday’s update gave me the other side of the coin, so to speak, and finally pulled it all together.

@somerandomdudelmao thanks for the fuel, friend

                              -----

                              Donatello’s days have become a series of checklists, as of late.

No, that’s not exactly true. His days have always been about lists: what he’s done, what he can delegate to someone else, what still needs doing. But these days he’s been doing less and listing more, piling tasks from the first category onto the second as fast as he can manage, hoping he has enough time to empty the queue.

The full catalog is written out in a series of files, reorganized for accessibility to the layperson and meticulously up-to-date as of yesterday. He meant to run through it again this morning, ensure all the relevant instruction manuals were attached to each item and double check his protocols, but he wasn’t… he couldn’t…

He’s going to die tonight.

It irritates him, his own miscalculation of the timing more than the stark presence of his oncoming demise. The latter has been inevitable for quite some time, long enough that he’s gotten used to the idea. But he thought he had another week or two, and he doesn’t like being proven wrong. He wonders if his brothers know.

Probably not. They know it’s bad now, obviously, because they’ve piled him with pillows and blankets and surrounded him on all sides, and Leo has finally gone quiet. But they trust him, they’ve always trusted him, even when they shouldn’t, so if he swears he’ll last a few more days, they’ll believe him. He thinks. He’s pretty sure. If they knew it was tonight, he doubts they would choose to sleep through it. Donnie thinks about waking them up, but only for a moment. He’d like to say it’s a noble act, to leave them in peace a little bit longer, but the truth is he’s just too fucking tired to move.

There’s something settled bone-deep in his chest, a heaviness that sits on him like a stone, a peine forte et dure pressing him down and down, stopping his voice and his breath and his heart. He wonders if this is what dying usually feels like, or if it’s unique to the Kraang. Raph would know.

He cranes his neck to the right, to catch Raph’s face out of the corner of his eye. Raph’s working eye is half-open, staring down at the floor. Donnie could ask him. (He won’t. Let him fall asleep.) The movement of his head is so slight it doesn’t even catch Raph’s attention. He’s too tired for anything more. He’s so goddamn tired.

His lists are out of reach at the moment, with his physical interfaces back in the lab and his ninpo locked behind a wall of oh-god-it-sounds-too-exhausting-to-even-try, but he memorized them all long ago.

Raphael: Maintenance (delegated to Casey, who has it well in hand). Plans (tucked away in a dedicated folder, long term, but someday they’ll have the materials, and Raph will have a proper body again, someday). Honey (yes, he passed that along last week).

Raph has access to the tracking programs, so he can keep an eye on everyone himself, even when Donnie can’t pull up locations or vitals for him anymore. He has his own space in the base once more, somewhere to close a door when he needs to (he insists he doesn’t, but Donnie isn’t a fool). He has more excuses to spend time with Casey, who’s taking over his upkeep. Donnie hopes it fills in some gaps for both of them.

He runs through the list, double checks each item. It’s his last chance to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything important.

He looks down, finds Mikey.

There’s a stockpile of the anti-aging serum in his safe, the formula in his database, plans for the permanent solution clearly labeled. As long as they have his lab, his systems, Mikey will be as young as his years. He’s walked him through the greenhouse, even if most of it is controlled by the computer system. Mikey misses the world being green; it’ll do him good to spend more time around the plants. He has his tea, his candles. He has Draxum, who by now should have received a — mildly — threatening message warning him not to pull any disappearing acts anytime soon. He has their ancestors, just a short call away.

Donnie’s sure Mikey will call on him soon. He doesn’t plan to stray far.

Up a bit. To the left. Leo.

The arm — Leo knows how to take care of it, as does Casey.

The passwords — reset, something even Leo will be able to remember without resorting to blackmail.

The schedule — reshuffled for the next few days, he’ll have a hard enough time sleeping as it is.

The photos — everything they have, even the embarrassing ones. He even managed a couple of prints, and one precious shot from their pre-apocalypse days, something for Leo to tuck into a pouch and carry with him, when they’re not around.

Raph, Mikey, Leo. He doesn’t think he’s missed anything. Donnie lets his head fall back, too exhausted to hold it up any longer.

Is it enough?

His mind stretches further out. He’s unraveling.

What about April? Her prescription is up to date, they just checked a month ago. She has the latest in his combat tech, which has kept her safe in the field this long, so he has no reason to think it will falter now. He’s leaving her a few extra pieces, since he won’t be able to use them anymore. Leo will find the time for a movie night once in a while, he’s certain, even if his taste in Jupiter Jim movies is horrendous. They still have coffee; he’d die before he let that particular supply run out. He will, actually.

Casey. Fuck, Donnie’s gonna miss his birthday. But he did plan for this, his protocols will kick in. The mask is finished, everything is in place. He’s reconfigured his workstations, fit them for a tiny human instead of a seven-foot turtle. Casey has a better head for mechanics than any of his brothers ever did. Kid likes to be useful, so Donnie’s left him as much use as he can. He’s taught him everything Casey can learn and left instructions for more, when he’s a little older and wiser. His family will take care of him, they’ll make sure he gets there.

The base. It has to hold, to give them somewhere safe. The infrastructure is sound, and they have people to manage repair work. Supplies are decent, the most critical items in stock, everything that can be made renewable is. Their allies — Leo handles interpersonal issues and leadership, but Donnie’s checked the list with a pragmatist’s eye, left notes and rankings for priority. Security is the largest concern, but he’s spent nearly half his time with his assistants since his self-diagnosis (he could have spent it with his family), running them through the programs and adjustments, trying to bring them up to somewhere in the realm of his own expertise (a fool’s errand, but still). They’ve been rigorously instructed, they understand that the little things like sleep are secondary concerns. It has to hold.

Is it enough? For them to be okay?

He’s done everything he can. He can’t do any more. So it has to be enough.

Donnie blinks, and for a moment isn’t certain his eyes will open again at the end of it. But they do. At least one more time, they obey him.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home. He rolls back through the list. It’s his last chance. He can’t miss anything.

Mikey’s hand tightens unconsciously around his wrist, fingers meeting easily on either side. Donnie feels only the echo of the pressure.

Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Home.

Something bright sparks at the edges of his vision before it fades. The last gasps of a dying brain, he supposes. Synapses firing one last time before they’re snuffed out.

Raph.

Mikey.

Leo.

                                                            April.

                                                                                                                        Casey.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Home.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Light.

                                                                                                                         There’s light.

                                                            It hurts.

                                                            He thought dying would stop the pain, but it’s risen to a fever pitch instead. His brother’s arms are gone, but the disease wraps around him in their place, consumes him. It rages like a wildfire, burning through his center until pieces start to flake away like ash.

Oh, this is what it does, what it was built for. The Kraang could have killed him in a lot of different ways. He’d wondered why they chose this one.

He hasn’t planned for it. This is something he didn’t even know to fear.

It’s bright and it hurts but it’s quiet as he crumbles, folds in on himself like a black hole in the utter silence of outer space. It’s quiet enough that the voice that breaks through does so clear as a bell.

His head turns to follow the sound, instinct. He’s lost half his field of vision, but what’s left is enough. He looks, and finds Casey.

Casey looks at him, at him, not the body. Donnie opens his mouth to ask a question — What are you doing here? How? Why? — but something else sloughs out instead. Not blood. He doesn’t have that anymore.

Casey calls his name once more and starts running.

Donnie’s questions fold back into his mind. His mouth clicks shut, he swallows back the putrid rot and pushes himself up. His arms are shattered but they’ll have to hold him. They have to. Because Casey is here and he needs something, which means Donnie missed something, which means he isn’t done.

His spirit disagrees with him, doesn’t see the logic. His arms don’t hold.

Casey reaches to catch him as he falls, and the touch ruptures him instead. He scatters. Into the air and the ground and Casey. For a moment, he’s just pieces, fumbling around and latching onto anything that welcomes them, and Casey does that. They flow into him. They’re him. They’re…

He’s…

Casey, he’s…

Donatello pulls himself back together. Most of himself, anyway. The infection hasn’t followed him but the damage persists. He’s run through with cracks and crevices, shaking bits away into infinity with every movement. But there’s more of him here than not.

Unexpectedly, Donnie is not gone. He’s still dead, but that’s fine, he planned for that one.

                                                                                                                         Casey has him now. He wraps himself around Donnie in layers, helps hold him together with a kind of sheer will that makes up for any lack of mystic knowledge in spades. Casey asks him to stay, and Donnie takes up the task like Sisyphus sizing up the hill. This time, this time I’ll do it right.

Even better, Casey has taken him to another time, one where all of Donnie’s long-term plans are now completely-fucking-reasonable plans. Casey���s going to fix it, so Donnie can fix everything else. Whatever else needs it. He hasn’t really asked. And he knows he’s missed something, but he doesn’t think too hard about what, not yet.

First thing’s first: he needs a body.

It’s so simple to accomplish that it seems like the universe is mocking him. Just a quick 1-2-3, ticking off the list. It feels almost stupid, like running back through the early levels of a video game after unlocking all the ultimate weapons and burning through enemies and obstacles, laughing, shit, did I used to think this was hard?

In no time at all, his own face has formed in front of him.

In no time at all, he’s gasping.

It’s only been a few hours since he last breathed air, but he’s missed it.

Another thing he’s missed? Functional musculature. Casey slams into him and Donnie is startled to find that it doesn’t knock him over. His arms and legs look like actual limbs again, not fragile little sticks disguising themselves as such. He stands, dragging Casey along without a second thought. The weight barely registers. It’s amazing.

The power trip is heady, but it only lasts a few minutes before reality kicks it in the ass and pulls him back down to earth.

We lost, Casey says.

They’re dead, Casey says.

It wasn’t enough, Casey does not say, but Donnie hears it just as clearly.

All those plans, the preparations, the precautions and protocols, they only borrowed a year or two before they fell apart. He sees the timeline spiral out before him, tighter and tighter until it collapses in on itself, rendered all the more insignificant from his own point of perception. He was alive yesterday. His family is dead today.

Everything he did, it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. He was stupid to think otherwise.

(Raph. Mikey. Leo. April. Casey. Casey’s still here. It was enough for him, at least.)

It cuts at him a little, to have been so wrong. But he’s strong again, now. He can take the wound. More importantly, he has another chance to get it right.

Donnie breathes. His chest expands smoothly, easily. The air doesn’t rattle in his lungs. He’s alive, he’s a genius, he can fix anything.

He pulls up a list.

[guppygiggles]

Oh, Avery. 💙

[egophiliac]

CROWLEY SSR THOUGHTS

there is zero basis for this, but I can't get this thought of my head

I don't know why I decided to draw it this way

[potatobugz]

inspired by the events of iii episode 14 :3

[aspiringwarriorlibrarian]

You know, I don't think I've ever seen a direct reversal of the "At Least I Admit It" trope. You know the one, where the bad guy says "I do bad things but I acknowledge they're bad so that makes me morally superior to you", and I could go on about why that bugs me but that's not the point. The point is that Qimir and Sol are both holding someone prisoner, but Qimir is the one trying to disguise it with soft words and fake freedom while Sol is being completely honest.

Qimir: You can leave at any time, provided you swim across several miles of turbulent sea to a ship I locked and then fly through space with no idea how to navigate. Oh wait, you're gonna try it anyway, um....actually, first you have to stab me with a lightsaber, no this is not physically restraining you from leaving I'm just holding you in a way that prevents you from moving anywhere unless I let you, it's totally different.

Sol: I shot you in the back and handcuffed you to a bed while you were unconscious.

[phoenixcatch7]

Reading loz/lu fics and it's just so interesting how wide the spectrum is of their personalities.

Sometimes it's got an in universe reason (different past (usually gender or species change), recent or ongoing traumatic events, a spectacularly bad first meeting), but sometimes (often) the characters are just... Weirdly angsty or peppy, there's no in between!

And I'm beginning to think less people have played more than one game than I thought XD.

Not that it's anyone's fault! One game is more than enough to be part of it all, and loz is exclusive to Nintendo consoles - and all the older stuff is frustratingly hard to get hold of. Heck, I'm still looking for wind waker, and that was really popular! And then you have to play it! They're not small games!!

But could people writing wild please ease off just a tiiiiiny bit so he can be a semi functional member of society pretty please XD? He's just as much a polite boy as any other member of the chain! He won't even run in shops! He can't attack npcs! He talks to every single person he's ever seen and remembers every single name. Yes, he's three quarters woodland creature with a hefty amount of trauma but he's also a fashionista who managed to avoid accidentally taking sides in a mayoral election and that's not easy!