#HE'S A LOVESICK FOOL

[mrsoharaa]

Miguel O'hara, who tenderly holds, no - caresses your right hand in his. Gently brushes his long, thick fingers over your own with such care and admiration, soften eyes of warm carmine carefully studies every digit...but more particularly, your ring finger. Hums inaudibly to himself, fans his thumb over the slender digit with a smooth stroke, picturing a notable, beautiful glimmering ring decorating over the delicate finger. Atoning his claim and full devotion and love for you.

[robertphilip]

All the party guests go home, except for one...

[flwrkid14]

Take My Heart, Take My Name

Listen. Danny is a menace with affectionate nicknames, and Tim is so weak for it.

It starts small, a casual “hey, babe” here, a “thanks, darling” there. Tim thinks he’s fine at first—sure, his heart skips a beat, and yeah, maybe he has to take a moment to compose himself, but he tells himself it’s no big deal.

Except then Danny takes it up a notch, like he’s testing Tim’s self-control.

Honey. Danny calls Tim honey one night and Tim seriously thinks it's game over. He's done for. Finished. Danny could ask him to jump into a Lazarus Pit, and Tim would already be in mid-air. “Hey, honey, can you grab my jacket?” Yes. Yes, he can. He can grab Danny’s jacket, his wallet, his hand in marriage—whatever Danny wants.

And just when Tim thinks he’s adjusted to that, Danny has to go and casually destroy him again.

“Morning, Polaris,” Danny says, voice soft and warm, and Tim nearly drops his coffee mug. Polaris. His chest tightens at the word, at the meaning behind it. The North Star—the one constant in the sky, the guide through uncertainty. That’s how Danny sees him? It’s almost too much. Tim has to physically turn around and pretend to check his phone, hiding the way his face burns and his throat tightens with something dangerously close to tears. Danny doesn’t just say it like it’s some throwaway nickname; he says it like it’s a promise, like he’s quietly reminding Tim just how much he means to him.

But the real killer? The absolute fatality? It’s when Tim overhears Danny talking about him to someone else.

“Oh yeah, Tim’s amazing,” Danny says, casually. “My man’s the smartest guy I know.”

My man.

Tim’s entire world stops. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until he exhales a few seconds later, completely dazed. My man. It’s not just that Danny’s saying it; it’s the way he says it. The pride in his voice, the casual possessiveness, the ease with which he claims Tim like that—like they’re already this unshakable thing. His. And Tim can’t believe it.

It doesn’t matter that they’ve been together for a while; hearing Danny claim him like that still makes him feel like he’s the luckiest person alive. Every time Danny says it, Tim can feel his heart racing, his head spinning.

And how could he not? He wants to give Danny everything. Every inch of himself, every breath, every dream, every fear. Tim wants to live his life wrapped in Danny’s laugh, stitched into the fabric of his love. If Danny wanted proof, Tim would carve his devotion into the stars themselves, would pluck out his own heart and place it in Danny’s hands as an offering. He’d give up anything, anyone, just to keep Danny smiling like that, to hear him say my man again.

Tim’s in a puddle, utterly lost in the warmth of it. His chest tightens, and he can’t stop the little smile that’s spreading across his face. My man. That’s his Danny. And God, if this is what it feels like to be loved by him, then Tim’s never going back.

And the thing is, Danny knows exactly what he’s doing. The way Tim lights up whenever he calls him something sweet? The soft little smile he tries to hide? Danny lives for it.

“Baby, are you okay?” Danny asks one day when Tim is just staring at him, dazed and lovestruck.

“Yeah,” Tim mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I just… like when you call me that.”

Danny grins, leaning closer. “What, baby?”

Tim nods, face bright red.

And from then on, it’s over. Tim is officially a nickname addict. Sweetheart, baby, honey, love—he eats it all up. It’s his lifeline. His kryptonite. And the best part? Danny never holds back.

[shotmrmiller]

When one night stand sd!simon gets his hand on us again

you know damn well Bub is already with Gaz or Price for the night and we expecting a loooong night of using our feet for earring how he got us folded in the breeding press.

and going at it like he's gonna breed it. it's all intimate positions to where you've got nowhere to look but at him. hand curled around your jaw to keep your eyes on him at all times (he's gonna make you watch him watch you come around his cock)

idk what his reasoning was but i think him realizing that you belong in his life permanently is what locks him down. like the idea of you moving on with someone else makes his sternum burn a bit, makes his head feel hot.

since he isn't all that good at apologies he ofc lets you pull the short strands of his hair in anger. hiss and scratch at him for embarrassing you in front of the parents who's kid you were watching. (in fairness, he pulled up like an armed burglar. you had to convince your employers to not call the police.)

lets you get all that anger out til you deflate, lacking energy. it's easier to make you listen when you're not wanting to scream yourself hoarse.

[dootznbootz]

My childhood friend said that my Odysseus looks like a mix of Chappell Roan and Griffith from Berserk and that thought is killing me. It's too correct.

(Lovely doodle of my boy courtesy of the wonderful fellow trashcat @thehelplessmortals :3 )

[itsalmostavengers]

Tony is definitely the sort of romantic stupid bastard to insist on not getting a prenup

[aleksanderscult]

Analyzing Aleksander's reaction to Alina's loss of her power

(I'm so sick and tired of seeing people use his "You are nothing now" words as a way to justify how he didn't love her that I decided to create a whole ass post about it.)

First of all, let's see what the powers of a Grisha mean to a Grisha, shall we?

For a Grisha her powers is the same thing as the oxygen is for all humans. The constant beat of a person's heart.

Indispensable.

And in a way it's implied that a Grisha cannot live without it. Just like birds can naturally fly, just like a fish can naturally swim. It's part of their nature, part of their body and soul.

Now let's see Aleksander's reaction to Alina's loss of her power.

The moment he saw Alina being unable to summon, he froze. At first he's in denial of what he sees.

How can a Grisha not being able to use her power? A power that is always there no matter what? A power that "feeds" them and keeps them healthy and alive.

We see Aleksander being in a state of shock as he tries to comprehend what is happening with her:

He had never seen anything like that. A Grisha losing her powers is unheard of. Impossible.

He tries again and again to summon her light and bring it to the surface. The fact that he can't feel it causes him panic and pain. In a way, he can't find her soul.

And the very fact that she also lost her collar and feter is impossible too. When a Grisha claims an amplifier, a connection is made that can't be broken.

Another fatal loss for Alina and a disastrous blow for Aleksander and his knowledge, since he knows more than anyone else how amplifiers work and how a Grisha's power work. All the hundreds of years he had spent watching and studying the ways of the Small Science and of power, have gone to waste right now as he tries to understand what is going on with the woman he loves.

His near immortality and rare powers always made him seek someone else to connect with. Someone to understand him and be on the same level as him.

People say that he never actually wanted Alina to be his equal. Well, based on his words and reaction here, I would say he wanted to.

Right now there's no pretense, no tricks or a façade. We see him "naked" and exposed showing us his terror of Alina's loss and despair for his fate. Of being alone forever.

"You were meant to be like me."

Aleksander wanted her strong and confident. Unafraid to rise above the others and to stand right beside him.

"You're nothing now."

I know it sounds cruel but it is true.

If a bird lost its ability to fly or a fish its ability to swim, would you call that normal? If a person stopped breathing or her heart stopped beating, would you call her alive and whole?

Alina lost the very essence of her being, her soul and identity. What happened to her was something completely unnatural and just wrong. Aleksander has lived for centuries and knows more about the Grisha than anyone else (except of course his mother) so he knows that what happened to her, has crippled her. She's not the Alina she was. And she's never gonna be.

It's not a statement of disgust, apathy or scorn. They're words of pain and mourning. Shock and anger.

It's a complete ruin for Alina.

A devastation and tragedy for the unfortunate Grisha that experiences it for the first time in their history. And an equal devastation and sorrow for the Grisha that watched it happen to the person he cared most about.

And it's actually funny how Aleksander seems to be the only person that was devastated for what happened to her.

Everyone else was:

"Alina lost her powers"

"Okay cool".

In a way you can say that it was proof of how he was the one that truly cared about her fate while the rest of her friends didn't seem to give two flying fucks.

The Darkling just gave up.

All he had fought for, all the patience he had mastered for years waiting for his equal to come, went to dust right in front of him.

In a way he committed suicide and just let Alina kill him.

Now if he didn't love her as some people say, why did he do these things after she lost her powers?:

1) Called her to his side and searched for her hand to hold it.

2) Smiled at her and stroked her tears.

3) Entrusted her with his last wish because he'd seen her kindness and believed in it.

4) Asked her to say his name one more time so he could hear it from her one last time. A name that he had probably never said to anyone else for centuries.

5) Begged her to not leave him alone while he died because loneliness frightened him.

I'm sorry but if I was dying, I wouldn't want anyone at my side but the people that I loved the most. And Aleksander wanted the same too.

There's no way he felt disgust or anger towards Alina even after she stabbed him. Whatever she did, he forgave. And whatever happened to her in the end didn't stop him from loving her and wanting her presence at his side until his own end.

(didn't really love her, my ass)

[p4nishers]

remember when fitz said in fool's assassin that it had taken him YEARS to accept beloved wasn't coming back? that he had waited for him, some part of his soul still dangling? waited like a dog told to sit and stay? that he had slowly begun to believe beloved didn't care about him anymore? that only after that did he really start to mourn? that he had obsessed over it for years, trying to excuse it? that he had chewed on one single line beloved had left him over and over and over, even going as far to question their friendship? that the scar of beloved's absence never healed? that the act of trying to understand his life years earlier turned into the act of trying to understand beloved? that he was never whole again after beloved left? that he likened the loss of beloved to nighteyes' death multiple times? remember that? yeah.

[cruel-hiraeth]

happy halloween! stop by our place and you may get a cute little trick to go with your treat ;-)

thank you to my sweetest bitti—@rabbbitseason—for the cheerleader zoro of my dreams! he’s gotta shake off the jitters, but he looks incredible, and it’s unfair of me to hoard all this eye candy for myself. sharing is caring, after all 🍬 mwah!

[bunitivity]

Kicking his feet like a schoolgirl💕

[sakuraluck]

translations by @_momorxn

ivan... ivan.. you're crazy !!! he is so down bad, it's insane. what could have possessed a young man to say such a thing aloud (reporter voice)

the answer: years of unfiltered yearning

[liesmultixxx]

i’m reading a book right now where the protagonist was gifted a typewriter and the first thing she writes is that the guy who gave it to her loves her with all his heart

and that immediately made me think of percy and annabeth

she’d definitely be all giddy and giggly, typing fervently

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“percy lovvs annabeth with alll his heart”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

[noctuadora]

I don’t know if I’m in the minority when it comes to this opinion since I see this particular thing a lot in the fandom, but uh, I’m not so fond of *cough* …

portraying Leon as a major simp towards a certain spy.

haha it’s because I read a comment somewhere stating (with confidence!) that Leon would do war crimes for her and I thought it was ridiculous and hilarious.

it’s a trivial pet peeve of mine, but I need to put these thoughts into words from time to time to get it out of my head. I hate it when some people reduce his character to being just… that. it’s not that deep, but since I emotionally relate to him, it irks me a ton. I guess that’s a thing? to be somewhat protective of a character? whatever

[lighthouseshepard]

does juno steel collect genders what the fuck is going on over there

he hunts genders for sport and then discards all but the most victorious after pitting them against one another. you should listen <3

[jazzzzzzhands]

Men don't get told enough that they are cute and I am on this earth to fill that void

[cheralith]

food for thought before i succumb to slumber… take a listen to this track for some fitting background music!

a little bit of the aftermath of what happens in gunsmoke, where nai and you are in your bed, tucked away during the brief minutes before midnight strikes. the night is still young for those at the nightclub, where most people are entering the height of their exhilaration.

but you and him had decided long ago to close it off with your stripped limbs tangled with another under a warmed duvet. the soft glow of a candlelight (nai insisted on a candle every session, claiming it’d amplify the mood) is the only illumination wafting throughout the room, your sleeping face just barely visible amidst the ink of darkness of the night.

you had gone to sleep some time ago. between the two of you, nai knew you’d often fall victim by the induced melatonin after entangling your beings together so intimately, the passion usually emitting much more of oxytocin in your case. nai often would watch as you fought the sandman so uselessly that it became a routine. he’d slowly watch the soft lashes atop your cheekbone flutter close and your lips forming a soft “o” that’d let out whispers of breaths with each fleeting second. nai knew you were fully unconscious when your head would fall forward ever so softly toward him—and he’d take this as you unconsciously wanting him closer to you.

he’s convinced it was your body’s way of telling him that you yearn for him the same way his does for you, that it longs to be in a proximity where there’s little to no space between you and him, where your chests touch together and beat as one.

a finger would also trace the crevices and curves of your body and face, studying them like a portrait of another human being. he’d recount the freckles adorned on your skin and face, perhaps leaving off where he started from last time. his finger would gently skim down the slope of your nose and he’d have to bite back a chuckle when you would twitch in similarity of a bunny out of reaction. ivory carved hands would examine the textured of markings and scars adorned on your skin, enjoying the softness and warmth radiating from each as he would wonder how they came to be (minus the one scar on your shoulder that he knew you got from falling down their mother’s apple tree when you were just children playing hide and seek. you cried endlessly that day and nai barely managed to cease it but quietly putting a hello kitty bandaid on it—courtesy of vash).

the duvet grows warmer the longer you and him are under it, but nai feels as if he’s being hugged more from your natural body warmth and sweet, somnolent scent. a mix of soap and the blueberry candle you light up every morning is what he can pick up, maybe some hints if citrus from your usual breakfast yuzu and honey tea, or something of the sort (he wonders if he’d be able to taste it on your lips if he was quick enough come morning).

fingers would dance over the valley of your back as if it were keys on a keyboard. they glide softly over it, feeling the dip and curve of it with his fingertips like he was playing a hypnagogic ballad on your spine. an adagietto sort of rhythm, perhaps, something that sings to you in your slumber.

nai is convinced love for another person is a feat impossible for his heart. but when you let out a soft call of his name in your sleep, as if you’re dreaming about him—perhaps even yearning, if he may be so bold—perhaps he can leave room for second guesses every once in a while.

he gets so entranced by your own unique beauty amidst the starlit night that nai doesn’t realize his eyelids heave heavier with each passing second…

… until you find yourself awake the next morning, showered in embers of sunlight and what seems to be a hand flat against your back.

its palm feels invitingly warm—almost as if it’s been brining in your heat for a while now.