#this is slander and im not sorry

[boygirlctommy]

i love the bit from oct 17 2020 when tommy and quackity trapped wilbur in a cobblestone box to keep him from pressing the button... wilbur punching through the blocks with his bare hand to try to get to the button... tommy frantically replacing the block in front of him yelling for quackity to do something... the moment when tommy stops, blocks the exit, and tells wilbur to do it. press the button. but then theyd die with him. quackitys like "wait, wait-" but tommy holds his ground and wilbur. ohh wilbur. "why'd you have to make it so hard?"

[gilverrwrites]

The Best You Ever Had

Jason Todd/Reader, 1.7K

A/N: Welp, as promised here’s that self-serving, mildly fucked up Jason Todd/Reader scenario I mentioned earlier. I’m working on I don’t fall, I fly chapter two I swear, but I had to get this unhinged Jason idea out of my head if I’m gonna concentrate. I don’t remember the exact details of the plotline I’m branching off of here 100% so if it’s inaccurate sue me. Warnings: Darker portrayal of Jason. Unhealthy relationship to slightly less unhealthy relationship, non-graphic mentions of death, grief, dub-con, manipulation, abuse of authority kinda, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, swearing, size difference, hair pulling.

Right so, remember when Jason went balls to the wall on absoloutely fucking ruining Penguins’ life after finding out he was responsible for the death of his birth father?

Okay, now imagine you’re working at The Iceberg at the time, as a waitress, a card dealer, dancer, whatever you fancy, it’s mainly just a cover for the fact that you’re actually Ozwald’s sugar baby.

You’re practically attached to his hip. Sure, he can be a bit much at times, a bit mean, but he’s real sweet on you. There isn’t a thing in this world he wouldn’t do for you, no clothes or gadgets too expensive, no jewels too well-guarded, 'cause you’re his favourite gal. At least you were until you watched Red Hood shoot him in the head on live TV.

Ozzie had paid your rent, your bills, everything, he’d showered you with gifts, but he’d never dealt you actual cash. Without his bank account to fund your checks, you have nothing, not unless you sell off your material possessions. So, not only are you grieving, but you’re forced to pick up as many extra shifts as you can in order to afford to keep up your lifestyle.

Being at The Lounge only reminds you of him, which makes your sorrows worse. You were never bad at the cover job, in fact, it’s how you got your foot in the door. But your emotions are affecting your performance, and when your new boss, Jason Todd, calls you into his office for a performance review, you’re pretty much resigned to the fact that you’re about to be fired.

However, Mr Todd is surprisingly chill. Understanding even. He doesn’t grill you; he just points out that your performance as of late does not match up with Cobblepots files and asks why? What can we do to fix it?

You feel comfortable explaining that you and his predecessor were close, and so his sudden death has hit you hard. You need time to mourn but can’t afford the time off.

When a tear rolls down your cheek you start to feel self conscious until he rounds the desk, crouching in front of you and presenting you with a tissue. He offers you the weekend off, paid, and promises to look into amending the shoddy bereavement policy Oz had enforced. But for now, commiserating may help, and he’s happy to listen, to be a shoulder to cry on.

So, you take the tissue, dabbing up all the tears that fall as you tell him about your arrangement. How Oz had done so much for you, got you out of a pit, how no matter what your friends and family thought, Ozzie really did have your best interests at heart, you swear. Mr Todd nods along, offering a polite laugh when you tell him a funny story, or pulling faces when you recall some of Oz’s less-than-savoury moments. His disapproval makes you feel validated in your distaste for some of the seedier things you’d let Oz get away with because he loved you.

After a while, you move from the desk to the conversation pit which sits beside a floor to ceiling fish tank. You can’t help commending him for keeping on top of looking after the fish and their habitat, it’s a lot of work. He tells you it’s one of his favourite things in the whole building and you agree, recalling how you used to spend hours watching the fish go about their existence when Ozzie would call for you only to spend the evening ignoring you whilst he dealt with 'business'. Jason says that you’re more than welcome to come see the fishes any time you like.

He's so much kinder than you’d expected. Which is why you don’t move when you feel his hand on your back, drawing you closer with strong arms until the warmth of his breath brushes your neck. It’s been weeks since you’d gotten this close with anyone. You hadn’t realised how much you’d craved the intimacy until it was handed to you.

And shit, he smells good too. Looking into his undeniably handsome face you’re struck with guilt for having enjoyed the company, the touch of another man and can’t help the second? third? who knows, wave of tears.

The tissue he’s given you is too sodden to do anything, so he reaches up with his long, surprisingly coarse fingers to wipe up your tears, and you let him.

Your weeping soon starts to ebb after that, but the few droplets that fall regardless are dried by his lips as he boldly presses kisses to your cheeks, and again, you let him.

“You shouldn’t waste your tears on that asshole.” The way he stares into your eyes as he speaks, it almost feels like he’s daring you to challenge him. “You’ll be better off without him.”

Out of respect for Oz, or maybe to defend yourself you bite back at him. “He’s not- he wasn’t an asshole! Not to me.” But you both know it’s a lie.

Before either of you say something you’ll regret, you decide to do something you’ll regret instead. In sync, you both crash your lips together, and Jason all but forces you onto your back with his body weight, his tongue pushing between your lips as his hands work at your uniform.

He’s nothing like Oz. His hands are strong and deft, free of perspiration as they pop your buttons with precision and knead at your newly exposed skin. His mouth, while steeped with a hint of beer, tastes clean. He looks at you with a reverence you’d never experienced before as he draws back to look you in the eye.

“Let me treat you the way you deserve, the way a real man should.” He begs, and when you nod, he practically starts tearing at his clothes. You work on his belt while he pulls his shirt and waistcoat over his head, too impatient to bother with his own buttons.

Your eyes bulge, heart plummeting to your stomach when he pulls down his boxers, exposing a dauntingly large erection.

“Bet you’ve not seen something this big in a long time.” He suggests with a smirk.

“No, I’ve never seen anything that big.” You offer, shuddering when he teases the tips between your slit, grazing your clit. “I don’t think I can take something like that.”

“You will.” His confidence goes straight to your already hungry centre. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it easy on you.”

You gasp when you feel friction at your entrance, and Jason chuckles into the crook of your neck, gently fussing in your ear as he slips a single finger inside you. True to his word, Jason makes the whole thing (mostly) painless and effortless, working his fingers into you one at a time, scissoring his digits and massaging your sensitive clit until you're stretched out and cumming all over his palm, staining the sofa beneath you. Purring to you all the while about how tight and plush your pussy is, how fucking good his cock is gonna make you feel, how he can’t wait to make you forget all about Cobblepot by making you gush all over his dick again and again.

When you’re partly lucid again, coming down from your first orgasm Jason lifts you with ease. He sits back against the couch, settling between your legs so that you’re straddling him. Guiding you onto his cock, thrusting from below, drawing a sinful cry from you as he fills you in one quick movement. It wasn’t unbearable, in fact, you’re a little flustered by the ease with which your pussy sucked him up, but your walls still throb from the final stretch of him buried in the depth at which his impossibly long fingers hadn’t been able to reach.   

His hands grip and caress and pinch every part of you, soaking in every inch as you ride him out, grinding your hips against his, using his body to chase your second release. His lips latch along your torso, sucking and biting his mark into your skin. This time, once you've successfully fucked yourself to climax on his dick, he doesn’t wait for you to come back down. Flipping you over and pushing you forward, he puts you on your hands and knees, presented for him on the coffee table so he can pound into you from behind.

Once he’s coaxed another orgasm out of you there, he carries you to his desk. He fucks you over and over. Revelling in every heated orgasm he rips from you, eating up your sob. He takes you on every surface. The floor, the walls, the window. He even presses you face first against the fishtank, making you watch your reflection in its mirrored back, and you are a pornographic sight to behold; lips dark and swollen from his kisses, hair tangled in his fist, tits pressed against the glass as he pistons in and out of your twitchingly overstimulated, cunt. Every thrust is slick, punctuated by the wet slap of your hips coming together. By this point, Jason’s unending strength is the only thing keeping you upright.

“That bird creep ever fuck you this good, baby?” He grunts into your ear, dark eyes glaring at you through the glass. From this angle you can see how his body practically engulfs yours; the reflection showcasing how his massive palms seem herculean when pinning you. All night he’d been throwing you around, bending and posing you to his will like a doll in his sturdy arms. Something Oz could never do.  

“No, god no Jason!” You whine. Drool spills from your lips as you try to speak. It catches on the glass, smearing back on your face but you’re too utterly fucked, too cock drunk to be embarrassed. “Nobody… never been… fucked like…”

When you don’t finish your sentence Jason laughs, it almost sounds cruel and sends a shockwave to the clit you long thought had been abused to numbness. “Am I the best fuck you ever had?”

“Yes! Yesyesyesyes.” You chant. Completely oblivious to the fact that your sugar daddy, Oswald Cobblepot is not dead. He’s very much alive, and very much not well as he watches Jason Todd fuck the brains out of his best gal from his prison on the other side of the one-way mirror.��

[fandom-chameleon23]

So in chapter one of ROTK we learn that Denethor loves Boromir more than Faramir because Denethor and Faramir are so alike, and Boromir is different. I feel like this is very much lost in the films, and we end up with the impression that Boromir is the golden child because he is following exactly in his father’s footsteps, thinks the same, and supports all his goals. But in reality, it’s the opposite.

I think this implies a certain level of self-hatred that Denethor carries, which he projects onto Faramir. But what happened to make Denethor devalue the characteristics of their Numenorean heritage? Why doesn’t he value he and Faramir’s foresight, knowledge of lore, and steadiness?

Could it be that Ecthelion treated Denethor like Denethor treats Faramir? Did Denethor learn the behavior from his own father?

[morelikecommunitydick]

How it feels to slander Dan harmon on tumblr

[zchlongli]

guys i think i found him

[proselles]

people saying that Glinda isn't gay are so insane to me it's like in the original books she lived out her years with 100 of Oz's most beautiful women for nothing

[divorcedwife]

i drew emelin as a bunny the other day

[erros429]

rwby textpost memes pt8! except make it ao3 tags i stole from @/thefunniesttags

[painedpen]

I saw a tiktok about Ron yelling at Hermione and embarrassing her in public (he would never), and Draco punching him in the face and I am so. Tired.

Like. We’ve already established that once Ron is committed to his relationship with Hermione, he’s peak husband material. He’s lovely. Househusband extraordinaire. But the idea of Draco Malfoy beating him up???

I like Draco as much as the next person, but we need to acknowledge that he’s a lil bitch. Every time he pisses someone off, he eats shit. Ron beats that twink into the ground on the regular. Come on people, let’s be real.

[shibusawaz]

bsd + the onion local column (the flashy sequel)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

shout-out to my public library for getting me an inter-library loan copy from the fucking LIBRARY OF CONGRESS?!?

[sorryiwasasleep]

Ford and Stan are from New Jersey of COURSE Ford fucked that triangle and Stan stole his brother’s identity

[osamucide]

do we talk enough about how atsushi and the weretiger and his character overall are a great metaphor for healing from trauma, specifically through community? i mean we meet him as this scared young adult who believes himself to be incapable and worthless. he doesn't even realize the manifestation of vengeance inside him or the fact that it's already lashed out and hurt people - in fact, he thinks he's running from this exact thing that lashes out, without realizing it is in fact himself. memory loss is a common trauma response, and when he does learn he's the weretiger, he's frightened by it and its capacity for harm. it's dazai and the agency who give him the opportunity to use his willpower for selflessness and help him to understand that he's not bad, he's just hurt. throughout the story we're watching him move from uncertain, insecure, overly-polite and meek to strong, assured, determined, and unabashed in his protectiveness over others (see kyoka). we see him go from paralyzed by his flashbacks to determined to dispel those misconceptions about himself. when higuchi corners him and the tanizakis in the alley early in season one, he still doesn't know how to summon the tiger, but it comes out after akutagawa's words (and also, debatably, watching naomi 'die' - just the stressful situation overall, perhaps) trigger a flashback - a really sound metaphor as manifestation for his trauma (stressful/triggering event = fight response). and while his is certainly not the most common or relatable circumstance to understand and heal from trauma under, the weretiger is so powerful metaphorically because ultimately, he uses his harnesses this destructive, disruptive, terrifying power for good. sometimes healing your trauma feels like inching close to this big, scary animal until it trusts you enough to touch and when you finally do, you realize the big, scary animal was also once just a hurt cub who needed a figure to tell it hey, you're not any of those things you think about yourself. (the imagery in the manga/anime/official art of atsushi sitting with the tiger, cradling it, petting it, etc. is so powerful to me for this reason)

it's another reason why akutagawa is such a good thematic parallel for him. akutagawa was not given this grace as a hurt child, by dazai specifically, and thus grew up into a hurt adult - and this also speaks to how complex of a character dazai is. these characters just play so well with one another and demonstrate such complex reactions to trauma, how it is cyclical, how that cycle can be broken, etc. and i just think it's really beautiful and refreshing for a mainstream anime to deal with themes like this

[inchidentalmeowmeow]

I have a friend who knows nothing about F1 but they call Redbull the du-du team because by osmosis (me yapping) they know Max as:

Du-du-du-du MAX VERSTAPPEN

And Checo as:

Du-du-du-du STEVE

Im DYINGGGGGGG

[nintenka]

i feel like camille would do that thing where he would say he'll give all his stream donations to lgbtq charities during pride month…. and then not stream anything for the entirety of june 💀💀 ……BUT… if he did……

i couldnt think of a better username sorry LMAO

(this is a joke im so sorry 😭 )