#HE LIKES U BOI

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!

[hinamie]

I'll give them shelter like you've done for me

[rayveneyed]

sukuna ryomen is somewhat of an infamous bachelor.

it’s not surprising to see him with a new beau every few months, if not weeks — almost trope-like in their frequency, his image bouncing between playboy and manwhore. he doesn’t take it personally, and he makes sure to let people know: he’s young and sexy and he has two oscars, for fuck’s sake, so he thinks the world can cut him some slack when he wants to mess around. and mess around he does.

between obvious paparazzi shots of panties tucked badly into his back pocket, and instagram posts with fellow actors and models pressed tightly against his chest, most are divided between thinking it’s either damn good pr, or a simple man living a life most would wish for. regardless, nobody is surprised when sukuna arrives alone at the mugler show for paris fashion week, and leaves with someone on his arm.

the only thing that came as a bolt from the blue was that it was you hanging from him.

the photos are undeniable, a story in parts; sukuna finding his seat in the front row, you on one side and kendall jenner on his other. his eyes drifting from the models to your face, as if taking a clandestine peek. you, meeting his underhanded gaze with a smile as sweet as spun sugar — and, gasp, sukuna returning it. the display is so out of character for him it feels almost voyeuristic to see it plastered all over twitter.

you, with your vintage, girl-next-door-esque image, big hair and big eyes and demure, calf-length hems, a voice that evokes the memory of helen forrest or ella fitzgerald. him, with his smudged eyeliner and tattoos and all-black attire, persistently typecasted as the panty-dropping bad-boy or devil-smiled brute. it shouldn’t work. for all intents and purposes, he should be spotted with a new supermodel the next week, leaving you in the dust of his philandering. most expect it, wait for the other boot to drop — expect an album of heartbreak from you, but—

a month passes. and another, and another. and suddenly sukuna ryomen, notorious rake, is photographed backstage at your shows. suddenly there’s an anklet hanging from your ankle, his initials in garnet. it’s early morning paparazzi pictures of you both in sweatpants and hoodies — yours, suspiciously oversized — one of his hands engulfing yours, the other holding a bag of takeout from a local breakfast spot, a lit cigarette in his mouth. hickies on your neck and a shit-eating grin on sukuna’s face. candid snaps taken at intimately sized parties, with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his large hands cupping your stomach. tiktoks of you both on the red carpet in the background of somebody else’s interview, sukuna leaning in close to brush an eyelash from your cheek.

neither of you confirm anything, but then — you don’t need to, do you?

[sweetlullabyebye]

Made way too many posts about jealous Charles so here is Charles actually smiling for a change

[tinyfantasminha]

kissy kissy boy

[tsuutarr]

Yandere!Fairy x Reader

“Ack! You scared me!” you exclaim as Cot suddenly appears in front of your face. His laugh sounds like twinkling bells as he settles himself on your shoulder. “Seriously… How do you keep popping out of nowhere?”

Cot tries to talk to you, he does, but all you hear is the sound of bells as he chatters on. Though you’re insanely curious to know what he’s saying, it looks like you won’t be able to know how he’s able to appear everywhere you are.

With a small huff of laughter, you ruffle his hair with your fingers. “At least give me a warning the next time you appear. I swear you’re going to make me go into cardiac arrest.”

Cot lets out a series of chimes that sound like an apology as he nuzzles your hand. You can’t help but smile – your little fairy friend is adorable.

Your days continue rather peacefully, your most frequent company being Cot. Though you can’t talk to him, just having him around is fun.

On a particularly sunny day, you’re picking strawberries from your garden, which Cot is assisting you with. You thank him as he hands you a glass of water (he’s only a little bigger than the cup, which is such a cute sight). Once you’re done drinking your water, you let out a small sigh of contentment. “Seriously, thanks, Cot. I don’t know how you knew when to appear, but I couldn’t have harvested all these strawberries without you.”

“It’s no problem!”

You freeze, eyes widening. “...Did you just… speak?”

He smiles, eyes twinkling. “Mhm!”

Your mind is unable to process your little fairy friend’s voice, making you stumble over your words. “H–how?!”

With a small hum that sounds like bells, he says, “Hm… I guess you can say that I cast a spell on you!”

(And by spell, he means that he’s slowly given you food from the Fae Realm, eager to whisk you away once you’re more fae than human. But until then, the only real spell he’s cast on you is one that allows him to know exactly where you are. After all, he needs to make sure you���re safe until he can take you to his home.)

[pokeberry5]

i feel like i never draw tim smiling but bb robin tim smiles a lot! (in between angst and tragedy)

brought to you by my continued attempts at figuring out tim’s early robin hair

[yuwuta]

hitting it raw is fun and sexy and all but not more than clawing at a boy and you both being so desperate for each other and barely getting out that you guys should use condoms and watching him trip over all your shed clothes on the floor and dig through nightstand drawers and bathroom cabinets like a madman on a wild goose hunt and cheer when he finally finds them and run back to you with so much excitement and watching his brain re-freeze when he realizes he’s about to fuck you 

[the-phantom-peach]

misc. scribblings of my three favorite zelda games bc I found a nice pencil that’s really fun

[technically-human]

Hey, don't cry. Ghost yuri, okay?

(Now that you know the girls, they need to meet the boys!)

[hinamie]

parenthood was not on my 2024 bingo card but clearly life is full of surprises

[ariaste]

Me: [sees everyone talking about how Assad Zaman was "literally" coming up with RPF about himself and Eric Bogosian in an interview]

Me: ah, fandom's doing its little "interpret an innocent comment in Some Kind Of Way" thing again, let's go find the video and do our own critical thinking about what was actually said here--

Assad: What would happen if I said-- [words that cannot be interpreted as anything but RPF fanfic]

Me:

Me: ok fandom gets a pass on this one actually

[hyunpic]

hyunjin on bubble: i changed the background (*of the bubble chat). this is my room

[vaguely-concerned]

are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid

[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.

[rokudaimeplease]

he's been through a lot