#like DID HE LIE

[redrobin-detective]

Simon Petrikov really is the dad of all time.

Continuing my Adventure Time binge and I got to the Gunter/Orgalorg bits. Ice King took this horrible, cruel alien menace who's been seeking ultimate power for millennia and loved him, cuddled him, disciplined him (sometimes undeservedly) and overall sucked him into his deluded family unit. He did this for so long that when Gunter finally was given a chance for ultimate power -via the wishing crown - he chose instead to become Ice Thing. To become like his dad.

Simon dadded so hard that he turned two eldritch beings with capacity for immense destruction into daddies girls.

[heynhay]

OFMD season two bonus posters! (source)

[morganbritton132]

Eddie’s live-streaming from the front porch where he’s sitting on their porch swing, playing guitar. So Eddie did not bring his followers into their neighborhood drama. Steve did.

You can see Steve pass in front of the camera a few times before you hear him loudly ask, “What?”

There’s a pause and then he’s like, “I can’t hear you!”

Eddie looks up and over towards the yard but he doesn’t stop playing. He doesn’t seem to have any interest in the conversation going on at all. His chat on the other hand are thrilled to be able to hear Dan say, “Got myself a ring camera. It records the porch and the driveway and sends the video to my phone if it detects movement. So if any vandalism happens…I’ll know.”

Steve: Okay…? And I have a gun

Eddie: *experiences twelve different flavors of ‘what now?’*

Dan: Is that a threat?

Steve: No. I thought we were both just stating facts about home security no one cares about.

Steve: You can go now. Bye.

Eddie, stopping Steve before he goes back inside: Babe, you don’t actually have a gun, right?

Steve:

Eddie: Stevie, you once almost took my head off with a baseball bat full of nails in your sleep. You did NOT buy a gun.

Steve:

Steve: Are you stupid? Why would buy a gun when I could borrow one from Nancy?

Steve: *goes inside*

Eddie:

Eddie: That didn’t answer my question, Steve!

[anemonet]

stream intros

[willows-peak]

thinking about geto for tonight

normally he always wants to fuck you while you're on your back, so he can watch your eyes roll up while he's drilling himself inside of you. but the uncertainty you'd feel when he took you from behind, any movement he makes drawing gasps from your lips or making your back arch down into the sheets was simply too good to pass up.

especially with how long he could draw this moment out, the one where he'd spread open your lips and groan at how wet you'd gotten, leaving a light kiss against you before repositioning himself and lining up his swollen tip with your hole. he always took his time pushing inside of you, rubbing small, slow circles across your pussy with his tip while you'd breathily call his name, his cock jumping in response to your voice.

"getooouu, don'....teasssee" you'd whine with that desperate, needy tone of yours, pushing your butt back against him to try and push him inside of you. really, how could he ever take you seriously like this? with your stomach laid against the bed, thighs spread wide open enough for him to feel how you eagerly clenched down whenever he began to work his cock inside you, only to drag it back out and continue to gather wetness along his length, rubbing his shaft up and down your cunt teasingly.

and, of course, when he did finally shove himself inside of you, his cock throbbing *hard* at the loud moan you let out, accompanied by the deep ache of your cunt surrounding his dick. you were always sooo fucking tight around him, squeezing every ounce of pre cum out from his cock while you started to rock your hips back against him almost instantly, not having the patience to wait for getou to start moving.

unluckily, geto had enough patience to spare for the both of you, so he'd hold your hips still with his big, thick hands, rubbing his thumb across the soft flesh while he listened to you moan in annoyance. "getooouu, come on, move already" you'd rasp out, your face scrunched with displeasure as you looked back at getou's peaceful expression.

and he would only say "like this?" before leaning down against your back, chest pressed firmly onto your shoulder blades while his mouth rested by the shell of your ear. you flopped back down against the pillow tucked underneath your head when his hips rocked up inside you, hitting deeper yet not deep enough, *so* close to what you needed to feel.

he'd drag this out as much as he wanted to, lazily thrusting inside of you when he starts feeling generous, his pointer finger running up along the base of your spine while his cock is filling you up so well. his hand coming to the root of your hair and gently running it up your scalp, spinning a strand of hair around his finger while he listens to you moan from the thick feeling of his dick.

the slow, almost grind of his length inside of you was mind-numbing in itself, being forced to feel every single vein and ridge being dragged along your sensitive walls, being hyperaware of the stretch your pussy had to make to take him, being aware of the lewd wet sounds every thrust made, your wetness seeping down your inner thigh at a snail's pace.

you couldn't decide on what to focus on, even if you tried. every time you attempted to speak, your mouth could only make slurred out moans of getou's name while he took on a pitying tone in your ear, pampering your neck with small kisses as he talked to you. "yeah? that feel good, pretty girl?" as he angled his hips down, moaning into your ear from how you'd pulse around him at the new position.

he knew exactly where to hit, and he'd abuse every spot inside you until you were puddy in his hand. only then, when you're drooling into the pillow and completely lax in his grasp, he'd fuck you properly, and he wouldn't stop until the both of you were satisfied.

[dimitrscu]

there are two types of elden ring fan:

the normal one

and then this guy

[ohitslen]

Promises

He should know better. 

Wolfwood has seen Vash make promises, or hear about the ones he has made in the past. He has also seen the end of each one and how every single time the outcome is less than what was promised. 

Vash likes to say embellished words, with a soft and determined voice that lures you into his hopes and dreams, it almost feels like a spell, as if he was calling for you to come closer and believe him. But Wolfwood knows better.

He believes in him, but Vash is much closer to being an idealistic dreamer than a realistic person like he is. He might not be aware of it, but his beautiful promises of a better future give people hope, a hope that is usually embraced with things like disappointment and abandonment. 

He doesn’t think that Vash does it with the intent of looking for any of those things. Far from it, he might even do the impossible in order to accomplish said promises, but life is too short and humans are too mortal for his wishes, so in the end, most of Vash’s promises end up being empty or they come to haunt him as a reminder of his failed vows. He admires the man, for his perseverance and idealism, but he also hates the man, for his stubbornness and lies. 

Wolfwood knows all of this perfectly to a tee. And yet, he has also found himself being drawn to his world. Because he also dreams of it.

A world in where his always present calls for love and peace exist, a world that is far more kind than what he might deserve, a world in where the kids can be happy and roam around without any worry in their heads, a world in where he can peacefully turn grey with age and his hands can shed the harsh callouses of his life. Who knows, maybe a world in where he and Vash can finally know the peace that was taken away from them, in where they can share the calmness that comes with the passage of time, indulging in every tick of the clock welcoming with open arms whatever comes their way without any fear.

It is a beautiful promise. But Wolfwood is a person that has to keep his feet on the ground, indulging in “what ifs” would only make things harder than what they had to be. He can’t have any ifs if he can’t make it through the now. And by the way he is carrying his present, he is doubtful he will even get to see a shed of that promised world that Vash tries to drag him into. So why mourn something he doesn’t even have, or will ever have for that matter.

He hates the way Vash seems to promise things so easily. His tongue silky and pliant, slipping divine words one after the other, promises way too big for what that barren world can actually fit. 

But when Vash talks to him in that holy voice of his, when he hears him say “It’s okay, everything will be alright, I promise” so gently right on his ear, while he holds his face so tenderly making him focus on him and nothing else, he wants to believe him.

He has seen the end of his promises. He knows how impossible they are. But for once, he wants to believe it too. Believe in that loving world that will cradle them both until they fall asleep, listening to the soft sound of the wind laughing while the moons smile upon them. 

So he allows himself to indulge in the warmth of his palms, leaning into the comfort of his existence, feeling the soft air of Vash’s breaths against his skin while their foreheads meet in a touch that feels like a hot brand that will melt him.

For an instant, he allows himself to be selfish and believe that maybe, that is how living in that world Vash so desperately fights for would be. Soft and warm, making him feel safe in the hollow of Vash’s hands where the world seems to fit so well. A world where the blue sky is a blanket that covers the love and care that is nestled in it like the one in Vash’s eyes. He wants to see that world.

For now, he will selfishly think that the world that fits in Vash’s hands is right there in where he is holding him, where his blue eyes are drowning in the light of the sunset dripping with love and care while looking at him, that the gentle touch of Vash’s thumb wiping his tears is the same as the kiss of that laughing wind in that distant future, where the smile of his eyes overcomes the smile of the moons.

He should know better. But he loves the thought of that world. And he hopes that Vash will get to see that world, because that gentle sight is more fitting for someone like him than the one of his violent world.

He promises to himself that he will do what it takes for that day to be possible. Even if the end of that promise will be empty for Nicholas, he knows it will be a full one for Vash. So it really isn’t that empty for him after all.

He hates his lies, and he hates how true they sound, but Vash’s embellished words are far sweeter than his bitter thoughts so they feel better on his insides, almost like a balm that cares for the wounds of his throbbing, painful reality.

He should know better.

But aren’t humans weak at the promise of love?

[fallenstarzz]

So when Neil Josten wants to keep a binder full of news clippings and pictures as a shrine to Kevin Day in a way to hold on to a good but tainted memory of his childhood and a life he can never have, no one complains. But when I, Riko Moriyama-

[mirrorhouse]

the dark urge and astarion witnessing each other's questionable activities in the middle of the night

[kinaesthetiqueer]

no wonder Nora never took her jacket off; RNJR would have never gotten anything done.

i like to think this happens in v4 because Ruby makes an offhand comment about Nora and Jaune not having guns as part of their kits. and Nora whips off her jacket and cries "guns? oh i've got guns! 😏" cue Jaune and Ren having a crisis. Ren is, to quote a friend, "experiencing emotions previously unknown, possibly shrimp ones".

redraw of this meme, because i wanted to draw best girl flexing and being admired, as she deserves.

renorarc et al. versions under the cut. :) image ID in alt text.

i don't have a twitter, so if you're inclined to share, please link back to this post rather than reposting it, thank you :')

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[raeofgayshine]

Bruce Wayne, drunk and full on Brucie mood in the middle of a gala: You know, that accent doesn’t really fit in around here. It’s cute. Where are you from?

Clark, internally debating every life choice that led him to this moment: I’m from Smallville. Kansas.

Bruce, leaning closer to Clark with a flirty smile: Oh you’re cute and funny. You know, I like that in a man.

Clark, very confused but trying to just go along with it: Thank you??

Bruce: I mean, everyone knows that Kansas isn’t real but I do always enjoy a good laugh.

Clark: What.

Bruce: What? Everyone knows that Kansas was made up for Wizard of Oz.

Clark, unsure if Bruce is fucking with him or if he’s just really deep into this dumb act: Bruce, Kansas is a real place. It’s one of the 50 states that make up America.

Bruce, tilting his head a little confused: There’s 50 states? Since when?

[silusvesuius]

drac & pongorma ^_·^

[leclercskiesahead]

shellmotorsport It's here! Part two of @charles_leclerc and @carlossainz55 playing Two Truths and a Lie! Watch and guess along. (Part 1)

[5qu1dink]

evil drawings.

[spielzeugkaiser]

[MASTERPOST]

Eskel is like "I WILL read this book about... A wolf and all his friends? Dancing and being. happy... 🥺"