#Cute or Die!

[samglyph]

I’m not immune to slasher comedy coming of age musicals. Apparently

[madredhattie]

Official manga vignette from the Pokemon Masters EX Twitter account! Read right to left!

[v1rginsu1cidal]

if you hold me without hurting me

You'll be the first who ever did‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

[ak1ji]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Credit - me!

[mothtato]

Forfeit all mortal possessions to the cute warframe for her gambling addiction 🙌

[mipmoth]

It's only me and you in this cruel world walking radiator

[hinamie]

u should think of tiny megu. To keep the stress at bay. You should draw him actually. Ooooo you wanna draw tiny megu getting the love he deserves so bad /j

he's with his 2 best friends

[ayertrinity]

My design take for my yuusona, Yuuto <33

[frosted-co0kies]

My children they are everything

[j0celynh0rr0r]

[vor-leser]

"AM provided punk and we burned it, sitting huddled around the wan and pathetic fire, telling stories to keep Benny from crying in his permanent night."

[vesperosy]

these two spend so much time running around investigating in the dead of winter that i'm afraid they'll both get colds

[cute-sucker]

note: hands and rafe?? fluff!! this came to mind. i wanna talk about it so bad so y'all are forced to listen to my rambling idc. (might do a nsfw one if y'all want it...i'm sorry)

extra note; this is dedicated to my first anon; the beloved 🪐 anon <3

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

when rafe's hands are on your waist, dragging you close it means he's possesivally telling everyone who you belong to, and especially when his hand drags down to that small base of your back that you love so much, feeling yourself flush

when rafe hands reach for your, needing that small way to be close to you, you know to move closer to him, knowing that he needed you and that you needed to be there for him.

when rafe hands hold your hand, a calloused large hand weaved with your tiny one you can almost feel the shyness in the gesture, the vulnerability he's offering you, that softness that you could only get from him

when rafe's hands wrap around your shoulder, he's drunk and laughing at stupid joke as you give him a cheesy smile. you only need a squeeze on the shoulder to know he's completly yours, as his eyes are that dazzling steel blue you know too well

when rafe's hands drums on your thigh, you look up to him looking concentrated on whatever he's doing. he needs to keep his hand there, not caring about the prying looking that the guys give him, or the viciously annoyed looks girls toss your way. he just needs to close to you

when rafe's hands brushes your hair away, a small graze on your forehead, or while braiding your hair, you know he's reminding something. there is something about hair that drag him back to his youth, you think, because he gets teary eyed almost.

when rafe's hand grab at your elbow you know he's pissed with his rough touch. your elbow is some place that he drag you to turn around. usually it means you will be taked to in a demeaning way, snark clear in his tone, yet that soothing touch on your elbow tells you another story

when rafe's hands fiddles with your fingers, you know he needs something to drag him back to reality, that soft distracted of touch of his makes you hide your smile; something that he'll snap, 'what,' when he notices you looking at him in that shy way

when rafe's hand cups your jaw, it could be two things. it means he needs to look at his eyes to ground himself and know that you're still here with your wide doe eyes, and a clear look on his face, or it means he wants to see the look on your face when he teases you, a clear flush spreading across your face as he drags your face up to kiss you

when rafe's hand lingers on your wrist, it means he's checking your heartbeat to make sure nothing has scared you. sometimes you jump up, and his hand quickly travels to that delicate part of your body to check your heartbeat. you always find yourself feeling so grateful that he cares about you so much

when rafe's hands reach to wrap around your stomach, where he tucks his head in that hollow of your shoulder, you know that you need to ease him. you need to take care of him if it's by giving him something like a sweet kiss, or whispering a promise that will make him happier

when rafe's hands feel for you at night, a urgency in his touch hoping that he won't make contact with a cold bedsheet, and instead he'll make contact with your warm body which is twisted along his own as if the two of you were melded into one and another

when rafe's hands stretch the waistband of your sweatpants, you can't help but laugh, at how silly he is, how touchy he is. but he's like how poets say, the other half of your soul, and you let him do his silly acts

when rafe's hand grazes your eyes, you know you'll find him leaning over to kiss both of your fluttering eyes, a calm soft touch that will make you sigh. he knows sometimes you need it to calm down, that gentle touch that'll make you feel safe.

when rafe's hands stay reached to your side, you feel more loved than you ever have.

[v1rginsu1cidal]

[sivychan-creep]

LET ME BE YOUR MOMMY EMI😭😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖

I couldn't forget to do emi too,she's the real angel!!

[carebeardean]

Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.

Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.

So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.

then Edwin starts writing back.

Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.

Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.

Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.

Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).

Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.