#also HIIII!!

[mangospams]

What’s better than 1 Miguel? ¡Dos Miguels!

One day, Miguel comes home from work to find his s/o snuggled up on their couch with….another Miguel? Miguel is mentally screaming bc he forgot to tie up some loose ends so now this universe’s Spider-Man is still alive. The other Miguel gets up to “talk” to his twin but of course things escalate. Their s/o wakes up from their lil nap to see two Miguels fighting in their living. They let out a muffled squeak in shock (s/o doesn’t know about the multiverse yet). Both men stop and stare at them……Awkward silence…….Would they continue fighting or share a darling?🙈🕷️

Honestly… I think Miguel is too possessive to share you with anyone, even him from a different multiverse!! 😭😭 I think they would continue fighting, trying to convince you which one is the ‘real’ Miguel, trying to convince you that their each ‘your’ Miguel

I do think he might share but it would be a very small possibility and you’d probably have to beg them to stop fighting for it to happen

[hxllowedblood]

❛ i’m just saying, murder is an option. ❜ @lunespariah —🕊️ random dialogue prompts!

mal isn't a smiler, at least not in the conventional sense. regardless of what goes on around him, his expression generally remains distant and unreadable. bereft of laughter.

but there. for just a split second, there's a slight twitching in his cheek. the faintest impression that he might've bitten down on the inside of it; tell-tale signs to the keen eye.

amusement.

"an option, certainly." dry and placid. he allows his gaze to drift away from the frankly frustrating guard as he walks away to peer over at lihua from the corner of his eye. "is murder now becoming our first option?"

[waterghostype]

ocean blue how do you do

[cacaocheri]

really like the idea of sun completely engulfing you in a hug, especially with his legs

[linterteatime]

Slugcat distribution system gave them an explosive rabid raccoon and a overpowered sewer rat ❤️

[girlatrocity]

touya's dance

[slushy-sash]

family bonding time

[jinikaris]

a sleepy ferret ♡ // skz-talker go! s5, ep4

[bravo666]

mdni • price x f!reader

captain price has a ritual and his men know better than to disturb. every time 141 gets back from an op and rumbles back to hereford, they unload, debrief, file the necessary reports and then some, all that dreary bureaucracy that needs to be done within the first couple hours of touching back onto english soil. and then, at the first opportunity, he fucks off. captain’s privilege, he says.

the others do too—on the town or to the bunks or to their own flats or wherever—but price never joins them. he has his own destination in mind and it’s a solo journey, so quit nosing about trying to find out, sergeant. he’s only ever gone for a few hours, six at the most, before he rolls on back to base, squares his shoulders, and throws himself back into work. at least he always seems a bit lighter when he comes back.

said destination is a pub not one, not two, but three villages over. the further from base, the less likely it is for him to run into one of his men, and he’d just hate it if that happened, would feel like a dog dragging mud in through the garden door, crossing his wires. he might not like it about himself, but john price is a greedy and selfish man, and the pretty little thing that’s been tending bar for the past few years is a morsel that he wants to keep all to himself, cradled in his jaw and savored.

the dingy pub is nondescript and uncreative, a local establishment that’s been around since anyone can remember and hadn’t changed a whit. price found the place back when he was first made captain and started looking for further out watering holes, looking for some peace and quiet away from the places where the recruits drank. he almost wrote the place off his lists of spots before he saw the flustered young bartender duck in for her shift.

since then, he’s been a regular—for a given value of ‘regular’, as much as a military man can be—ever since. started swapping conversation after the third or fourth visit. polite conversation turned friendly, then raucous with laughter, then warm and teasing.

that’s as far as he let’s it go, naturally. with a job like his, he’s married to his work; there’s no room, no time in his life for a sweet little wife, no matter what he dreams at night with his cock fisted in his grip or whose face he happens to see play the role. he tried the whole wife thing once, chased after it, even, and all price has to show for it is an alimony payment set to automatically go out every month.

(his ex-wife couldn’t handle him in the end. she was the type of woman who needed him at every hour to keep her love alive and couldn’t stomach the weeks alone while he was deployed, and even when price was home, she didn’t have an appetite to match his when he slipped himself off his leash. they both jumped into it without looking ahead. such is life.)

so he ignored the hungry need for a woman beside him, and even if he ever did go down that route again, it couldn’t be her. she’s young and bright and untouched by blood. playful flirting and occasional brushes of fingers hovered somewhere plausibly deniable as a service worker buttering up a favorite patron, or—and price only lets this thought loose for a moment before snatching it and shoving it down with a growl—a friend. he’s gone half the year anyway, or something like it. every time he comes, he carries the irrational, ugly fear that in she’s moved on, moved out, got a new job, left the country, got married—

when he shoulders through the door now, sawdust sticking to his boots, his girl’s—because that’s what she is, even if it’s only the sight of her that he lets himself claim and hoard—wiping down glasses behind the sill, the pub just about empty as all the old timers went home. his first thought is that she’s still there, thank god. his second’s that she’s changed up her hair. it looks good. price pointedly ignores the way the sight of her with her new hair and those pretty lips makes him chub up a little.

his girl’s eyes crinkle a little when she looks up toward the door. “john,” she says warmly, and before he’s even seated at his usual spot on the bar, she’s filling him up his favorite pint. “how are you doing, handsome? just got back from saving the world?”

a snarling, hungry, traitorous part of his brain tells him that his wife is being so good, keeping him fed and watered, and the only thing next on her wifely duties is to keep his balls drained. he tells it to go stuff itself.

“still working on it, sweetheart,” price says with a sip. maybe it was worth it, when she asked a while ago why he showed up so irregularly, to tell her that he was SAS, if only for the way she called it after. saving the world. that’d be nice.

this time, though, he notices something else that’s new besides the hairstyle, and it makes his beer taste like dust in his mouth. a glint in the light, on his girl’s left hand.

not really his girl anymore, is she?

price swallows down his mouthful and tries to quell the sudden heat that rises in his veins, a raging anger that feels, inexplicably, like he’s been stolen from. his molars clench together for dear life as he rearranges, tames, quiets himself. it was fine. it was fine! she’s just his bartender, is all. his friend. modern country and whatever, she could go meet whoever, get engaged to whoever, fuck whoever, and if she was happy, then—then price would have to be happy for her.

(she better be happy, he thinks. if whatever little boy she’s found isn’t making her feel like a bloody princess every god damn day then he doesn’t deserve the fingers he touches her with or the cock between his legs—)

this was good, even. with a ring on her finger, price’d always have a reminder that pretty girls didn’t owe him anything, don’t belong to him like a dog with a bone. kill the fantasy, keep his head on the missions. a better soldier. it’s that tightening thought that lets him calm himself enough to say “congratulations are in order, i assume?”

his gi—the—she furrows her brow in confusion, but she follows price’s gaze—how could she not, with him practically burning a hole in her finger with his stare—and laughs. “oh, that,” she says, easy as ever. “no, nothing’s happened.” she wiggles the ring off her finger and sliding it across the counter to price for his inspection.

under his touch, the tell is obvious: it’s plastic, cheap, almost gummy plastic. the faux diamond is cheap acrylic, only close to sparkling because she’s gone through and polished it up. it takes him a moment before he puts it together, but before he does, he briefly becomes so angry that he thinks he might actually kill a civilian for treating her this way.

“bought that online for five quid,” she keeps going. “just to stop some of the patrons from asking questions, or flirting, or, you know, trying to introduce me to their nephews and that kind of thing.”

a decoy ring. a dummy, a shield, something with no actual suitor attached to the other end. price is so relieved that he can feel every muscle in his aching body untense, and it pisses him off because he knows he shouldn’t care this much about his friend’s love life. “smart,” he says, his voice a bit thick before he clears it. “smart. though, you know, sweetheart, you could always try telling them you’re not interested.”

“please, john, you think i haven’t tried?” she shrugs. “no, most of them don’t listen without seeing a little proof that that seat is taken. always thought they could convince me otherwise. the ring shuts up most of them, and the few that still don’t get the hint, i end up having to tell them stories about ‘my husband’ before they piss off.”

the word husband coming from her mouth makes something rumble in price’s chest that’s becoming dangerously difficult to ignore. he tries a chuckle, tries to focus on the feeling of his beard bristling his own cheeks and not the way they would feel against hers, and tries to lighten the mood. “so, what, you just make up stories about this husband of yours? grand tales of romance?”

but she looks away, and—is his girl flustered? she picks up a rag in her hands and starts wiping idly at the counter, like she’s trying to avoid his eyes. “oh, you know,” she says. “i keep it simple. just enough to, er, get them to stop, and consistent, so they can’t pick holes. he’s—he’s in the military. leads a team.”

then, quietly, “he’s out there saving the world.”

the dog slips his leash.

when price finally leaves to make the long drive back to base, his shirt rumpled and his chin wet with slick, he keeps the plastic ring in his back pocket, not bothering to give it back. why would he? she doesn’t need it anymore, because he’s going to buy his girl the real diamonds that she deserves.

[emperor-princess]

My favourite bunnyboy, Salem!! (He belongs to @wolfertinger666)

[obsob]

peachtober day 11 .....wheel.....so i got a little muddled and drew the world card instead of the wheel of fortune. both words start with W and my dyslexia won . lets pretend this prompt said world instead . take my hand

[milkywayes]

POV RO SHEPARD INCINERATES YOU 🔥

happy birthday @gammaraydeath!!! ♡︎ mwah!

[upperranktwo]

☆Giyu Tomioka☆

Extremely belated birthday gift for Art ♡ @apparently-artless

[gay-david-tennant]

Things that can put the fear of god into a tumblr user:

- commenting 'this post feels like it has 10k notes'

- telling OP you're investing in their posts

- tagging it as a heritage post or even tagging @hellsite-hall-of-fame

- writing the absolute worst take known to man in the comment section so OP can prepare for a week long argument taking place in their notes

- making OP realize that they made a penis typo and it's too late to correct it

EDIT: i had now four of those happening to me on this post and someone started to KUNGPOW PENIS ME! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME??!!?

these tags are now a reminder of a much simpler time when i was sheltered from the horrors of the world ⬇️

[spearxwind]

>> CERCERION, GRIEF OF THE STORM <<

[arkaniist]

listen listen ok i love age gap stuff as much as the next fujo but in zhongven's case the WAY funnier and more accurate dynamic is college prof. zhongli and the guy everyone thinks is his undergrad (at worst) or TA (at best) but who is actually a 36 year old fellow teacher from another university. every time venti visits zhongli on campus for a quickie to bring him lunch, zhongli has to put up with a swirl of rumors about his scandalous relationship with a babyfaced newly-18 year old. students keep showing up after class thinking they can flirt their way out of his notoriously difficult 10 page final exam. his reputation with most of his fellow teachers is so strained and awkward.

and venti is a year older than him.