#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. 

[morelikecommunitydick]

How it feels to slander Dan harmon on tumblr

[zchlongli]

guys i think i found him

[weltraum-vaquero]

Jokes aside, though, act 2 fumbled Jayce and Viktor’s arcs. Pretty fucking hard. I’m sure a lack of screentime was a big factor, but I also hate the route they went with Viktor. (And I’m trying to moderately keep my hopes up for act 3).

I wish we would have gotten some sort of scene, ideally in season 1, where we (and Viktor!) would have been given like, the smallest reason to give a fuck about Sky beyond just guilt. As things stand, the only fathomable emotion Viktor could have had towards her was shame and regret, and it makes zero sense to me that she’s now an advisor/(near-romantic) partner to him.

I wish they would have stuck to guilt as a motivator. It would have been a much stronger and logical driving force for Viktor than… whatever the hell they decided to pull.

You cannot just demand that I, as a viewer, suddenly care (or believe Viktor cares) about a character you made zero effort to introduce, much less endear to me in any way. Come on now

[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

[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

[sevilynne]

Sorry in advance, I'm going to rant here a bit.

Why do 80% of Snaters have to bring his looks into the discussion? Like, the way he looks has nothing to do with his character! I just saw another post calling him a "disgusting, oily, ugly man" in their rant on how he is an evil person, like... I look, apart from being a woman, exactly like him. Like, I 100% match the book description. Crooked teeth, shoulder long hair that gets greasy way to quickly, big, hooked nose, dark eyes, too skinny, walks in a "gliding" way: that's me! Why do the marauders fans have to do this?! Don't they realize that there are people, who will look like the charakter they hate on? This fucking fandom made me so insecure about my nose, that I am considering an operation at 19 years old! I just cried for half an hour after seeing jet another post about how ugly Snape is and no wonder he never found love! It just causes so much pain. If they want to hate on Snape's character, fine by me! But why can't they leave the way he looks out of it? Why?

Sorry for freaking out here, but you are one of the few pro Snape accounts one can write to anonymously and I don't want them to be able to figure out who I am. Thank you for reading this messy thing i wrote, it just needed to be said.

I must offer my deepest, sincerest apologies for posts you’ve seen. Alas, Marauder Stans possess a troubling insensitivity and thoughtless disregard for the nuances of character and narrative. In Sev V. S Marauders arguments, when they find themselves cornered without a coherent defense for their beloved quartet, rather than talk about the substantive truths about Sev, they instead throw callous, almost vulgar fixations on his appearance.

Marauder Stans, as fervent as they may be, are often proved problematic. Their disdain for Sev runs so deep that they not only dismiss his importance and erase him from his own circle but also stoop so low to attacking his appearance and ridiculing his poverty.

Marauder Stans seem to revel in disparaging Sev, often going out of their way to strip him of any redeeming qualities. It's that they take pleasure in rewriting his narrative, erasing his virtues and amplifying his flaws, making a one-dimensional caricature that serves their biases. It's a weird thing, revealing more about their own prejudices than about Sev himself.

Your appearance is a distinctive and beautiful part of who you are, but it does not, in any way, define your value or your capacity to be loved and cherished. Those who resort to attacking someone’s looks often do so because it’s the quickest, most mindless way to inflict pain. It says more about their own insecurities than it does about you. You deserve to be appreciated for the incredible person you are, far beyond the surface.

Please remember that you are so much more than any fictional character, you have your own unique story, rich with experiences and emotions that are entirely your own. Here, you are loved and valued for who you are, regardless of how you look or the way you express your personality.

You can always try to block every Marauders Stan who spews negativity about Severus’s appearance. Hypocrisy is those are often the same people who accuse him of bullying, completely oblivious to the irony of their own actions. They fail to recognize that by mocking an 11-year-old who grew up in the grip of poverty and isolation, they are perpetuating the very behavior they 'condemn'.

Have a pleasant day! (Apologies, I'm bad at comfort. And in summary, they hate Severus's character by itself and it's appearance and NOT because he bullied kids, and people like spewing insults at Severus because he is conventionally unattractive, unlike Potter and Black.)

[muzsmocsing]

My sister called Megan's new song cringe but honest to god let a woman like something for once!!! She's just like us fr except she's really hot and talented in real life. "But she's pandering to the weebs!" Miss Stallion has been publicly into anime for YEARS and has anime inspired bars in multiple of her songs. And you don't have to enjoy her music! Ofc not. But gatekeeping who is and isn't a "real otaku" is weird. And a lil misogynistic. Just a tad.

[isas-bathbombs]

i think ur all forgetting how old mira is, like she isnt even grandma shes straight up a FOSSIL. shes ANCIENT. her old ass is beefing with a bunch of 20 yr old university students

“but i need to reset!!! cassandra got to her again!!”

“sure grandma, lets get you to bed”