#and i'm here to deliver

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Because You Know That I Love You...

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: You surprise Solomon with a special little evening, little does he know the true plans you have in store for him...

AN: I've had this written for like a week, but wasn't happy with it, so I finally sat down tonight to fix it up a little. Just a goofy little thing, and so help me I'm going to MILK us living with Solomon as much as I can until the next season comes out! Enjoy this little goblin creature of a fic I made :)

Warnings: It's a little suggestive but it never goes anywhere, it's a silly I swear! (mostly), slightly possessive reader (matching Solomon's energy really, lol), Solomon calls reader "sweetheart" and "love," pre-established relationship

Now playing: Sacrifice (2019 Mix) - London After Midnight

“What are you doing?”

Solomon leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed as he takes in the sight before him. Scattered around the common room are dozens of lit candles, each one flickering with your movement as you make your way around to continue lighting more. There’s also a bouquet of dried red roses on the coffee table.

It seems he caught you in the middle of whatever you were setting up.

“Preparing.” you state bluntly, though your response leaves much to Solomon’s wandering imagination.

What could you be preparing for? The candles, the lighting, the flowers – in the solitude of your shared dormitory, no less…

Oh, oh my…

A slick grin pulls on his lips as it dawns on him that you’re trying create a romantic atmosphere for the two of you. That’s the only explanation there is.

He chuckles as he crosses the room to get to you. His arms circle around your waist from behind, causing you to jump slightly from his sudden touch. “Oh, love… Putting in all this effort for little ole me?”

He’s already feeling amorous and you haven’t even finished setting up yet. Tender kisses brush along the shell of your ear, his lips moving to your neck all the way down to your shoulder. Your body shivers in his hold, and his heart nearly bursts out of his chest with the knowledge that he’s affecting you in a similar manner.

“Well, you deserve the best.” It’s obvious to him that you’re fighting to keep your voice even and your hand steady as you light the last candle.

“Is that so?” Solomon places a little kiss right behind your ear his time, his hands simultaneously squeezing your hips in anticipation.

With a quick flick of your hand, the match between your fingers goes out, and you shimmy out of his eager grasp. This confuses Solomon as his eyes follow your form to the coffee table. You pick the bouquet up with a soft sigh, before mumbling in disappointment, “you weren’t supposed to see yet...”

Solomon just watches you silently for a few moments, noticing how down you seem that he ruined your surprise.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m flattered you’re doing this for me at all! I was certainly surprised to see all your efforts,” he slowly approaches you, gingerly taking the bouquet from your hand. “How about I help you finish setting up?”

With a small smile, you nod, easily agreeing to his compromise. “Okay. I could use some help anyways. Why don’t you go ahead and start picking the petals off the flowers?”

Solomon returns your smile and instantly begins on his task. He sits on the couch, holding the flowers over the table as he plucks at the petals, letting them pile up there until he’s done and you tell him where to scatter them.

“You know...” he starts, “I can’t help wonder if there’s a special occasion I’m missing here. I didn’t forget our anniversary, did I?”

“No, no special occasion, no anniversary,” you say softly as you fish into your pocket for a piece of white chalk that you had hidden there, “but there is a reason I’m doing this…”

A curious brow cocks at the piece of chalk you present. His fingers pause their movement as he watches you push the coffee table towards him on the couch and as you roll up the rug, clearing up space in the middle of the room. “Oh? And why may my adorable apprentice want to go to through such lengths for me tonight?”

You then kneel on the old, creaky floorboards, beginning to draw a large circle right on them...and a large star to match right in the center. This looks familiar. Too familiar, in fact. You’re silent as you work, almost as if you’re in some sort of trance. Solomon’s about to re-ask his question when he hears a faint whisper fall from your lips.

“I’m going to sacrifice you.”

Solomon’s eyes widen as he swallows thickly, struggling to comprehend what you just said. Where in the Seven Hells did that come from?! And why?

Although, the more he thinks about it, the idea of you being the one to sacrifice him for whatever purpose doesn’t sound so bad. You successfully caught him in your web, seducing him with gestures that seemed one way, but were really another. And here he was, foolishly aiding you along. He stares in disbelief at the pile of rose petals which were actually to be scattered around him on the pentagram... Not on the couch like he’d expected. He could almost laugh at himself right now.

“And by sacrifice, you mean…”

“Laying on the floor as I chant above you and accept you as my own personal offering.”

Oh, this just got even better.

He looks up to you, grinning as he realizes what you plan to do. “You mean to sacrifice me to yourself so that I’m permanently bound to you? Am I understanding this correctly?” Because he’d do it. Gods, he’d let you in a heartbeat if it’s what you wanted, if it meant he'd forever be tied to you.

A sly grin of your own appears, almost maniacally, on your lips. “You understood perfectly. After tonight, you’re mine.”

“I see...” Solomon nods before ultimately shrugging. He’s so into this. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s do it.”

[demaparbat-hp]

Oh, Lala...

[shynverlight]

Drew this two casual (and not rlly) symbrock pages bcs I'm hyped for new movie

[momentomori24]

THEY ARE SO INSUFFERABLE AND HORRIFIC AND AWFUL BUT SO AMAZING AND DORKY AND THIS PART IS SO UNFAIRLY FUNNY AND CUTE AND WHOLESOME-- PLEASE, PLEASE HAVE MORE SCREENTIME IN S2. PLEASE LET THEM TAKE OVER THE SHOW. I KNOW THEY'RE HORRIBLE PEOPLE BUT I NEED MORE OF THE VEES.

And the most important scene of them all (to me):

First of all, how is Vox doing that. Second, you just know that these two douchebags are going to bang so hard with Alastor getting his ass kicked replaying in the background after this. I hate them so much.

[c2-eh]

charles_leclerc and carlossainz55: Checkmate ♟️

[corey-wh0re]

Looking forward to the best Christmas ever, filled with fun, smiles, & laughter. Lauren LaVera as Sienna Shaw in Terrifier 3 (2024) | written & directed by Damien Leone

[halepo]

GET THE VOTES IN! FELLAS

Sapphic Ahsoka week is rolling!!

Time to vote for your favourite prompts!!!

Head to the google doc at the top of this post and select seven (7) prompts out of the 126 listed. Seven days, seven prompts!

The most popular prompts will be selected for the different days. Some or all of the days may have more than one prompt if similar themes between the top prompts appear.

Voting will stay open until 23:59 on 18th of July (UTC-12).

Happy voting!

[mikimeiko]

The Expanse | 5x04. Gaugamela

[dollypopup]

look, y'all can all gleeful cancel me for this #unpopular opinion if you want, but even IF Nicola wasn't nominated for the comedy section and it was her and Luke head to head in best drama?

I'd still vote for him

because I genuinely and truly think his acting is INCREDIBLE. and I think he's one of the better actors on Bridgerton full stop. I love the nuance he brings to Colin as a character, I love how he so fully embodies him as a character and that Colin has similarities to him, but is fully different at the same time. Colin does not talk like Luke, walk like Luke, even fidget like Luke. He has his own character beats and yes, sometimes parts of Luke bleed into him, such as with the head tilt, but the voice is different, softer, the movements of Colin as a character are distinct to me, he delivers humor well ('you'd already be dead?') and his decisions for Colin as a character are ICONIC (I'm never forgetting that dress adjustment with specific fingers was all him). Colin had a harder go of it than a lot of leads because his story isn't as loud- he doesn't get a lot of big, dramatic moments to have big dramatic acting, and honestly the show didn't give him a lot of screentime in the first place. But when he does have poignant emotional moments? They feel REAL. He isn't given as much time with the audience as other characters are and he doesn't go for the broad strokes with his acting, so sometimes I think he can get lost in some of the louder acting, but that doesn't negate the fact that he's GOOD. He's a good ass actor. He plays Colin like Colin is an actual person.

And for me? For me, that hits home. Even with truncated time on his own season (yeah, I'm still bitter), he delivers every single time. Anger, betrayal, longing, heartache, silly awkward humor, heat- and he does all of those emotions BELIEVABLY. I watched Luke Newton depict Colin falling in love so beautifully and so realistically, I HAVE NO CHOICE but to give him his flowers. Just because he's not as heavy in the hustle as other actors are (please remember this is a neurodivergent actor with anxiety and dyslexia, mental health is important and it's good he took a break ) doesn't mean he's not a fantastic actor. And if you've ever seen his depiction in The Shape of Things? The man is excellent.

I think Bridgerton has a lot of 'big moves' actors. And that's fine. Many people prefer that. But I prefer the nuanced moments and the softer beats of it all, and I think if the camera had allowed us as an audience a longer glimpse into moments with Colin, we'd all be even more floored. I can watch gifs of his scenes over and over and over again and find something new every time.

So y'all can sit there and accuse others of a 'pity vote' but idgaf. Luke Newton is one of the best actors on that show. And I stand by that. Eat me.

[kazbiter]

don't get me wrong I LOVE how everyone in the aftg universe is just casually aware of the massive obsession that kevin has w jeremy and it's kind of semi-jokey but the way that jeremy chose to play the foxes vs trojans game in TKM really illuminates why it makes so much sense for kevin to admire him that much in a way I really just find so good & excellent!!! bc imo jeremy embodies what it means to genuinely LOVE kevin's mothers game!!! yes he wants to win but more than that jeremy wants to PLAY!!! maybe we will lose but we will learn. maybe it won't end the way we hope but god won't it be fun to find out anyway. he wants to be good by experiencing the sport, by having fun with it, by giving the game room to be all that it can become and getting to be a part of it. exy is not a tool for jeremy to gain power and prestige as it was for the ravens. it's a game!!! you're meant to play it! you're meant to have fun with it! jeremy honors of the truest intention of the sport and welcomes it as it is, not trying to twist it into something that can be leveraged and wielded. it's still all for the game for him, just in a different way: in a way that kevin was never going to be allowed to play it. but someone still does it, and does it well, and shares it with others. and now he's sharing it with the boy that kevin could never quite set free from a place that made it something else. and kevin gets to see it, living proof of what the game could be, what it should be, what it truly is.

[goodlucktai]

gently in the cold dark earth

scum villain's self saving system word count: 2k canon divergent / no system au; sy transmigrates into an empty npc role; gray lotus binghe loves his shixiong more than life and he's ready to make it everyone's problem

title borrowed from work song by hozier

read on ao3

x

The first thing Luo Binghe does when he escapes the Abyss is return to Cang Qiong Mountain. 

With Xin Mo secured to his back, the way could be instant if he so chose—the journey of a thousand miles reduced to a single step—but he unsheathes the elegant jian at his hip instead.

Yong Liang sings sweetly for him, the snow white blade still shining and untainted even after years of helping Luo Binghe carve his way through hell. It has never once failed him, soulbound to the one person still on this earth who has never failed him. 

“Take it,” his shixiong insisted, low and urgent. The Abyss was behind them, an even deadlier threat was ahead, and Without A Cure clogging his meridians made Luo Binghe the best choice to wield the only unshattered spirit sword they had between them. “Binghe, take it.”

He pressed until Luo Binghe’s grip curled tight around the hilt, not hesitating to put his soul in Luo Binghe’s hands even with the rosy glow of an unsealed demon mark shining on his face. 

Luo Binghe flies at a pace best described as dangerously reckless, hardly smelling the fragrant spring air or feeling the sun on his face. His robes are a disgrace, his hair a tangled, matted mess, and it occurs to him that he could stop somewhere and clean himself up, make himself presentable, but it’s a brief, fleeting thought. 

Shen Yuan would be furious to find out that Luo Binghe wasted even a single second returning to his side. 

——

He passes through the ancient wards effortlessly, feeling them fall away from him like water. It’s a simple thing to tamp down on his demonic qi, to disguise the parts of him that those so-called righteous cultivators would scorn. He ghosts through the familiar grounds as eagerly as a starving animal bolting down a fresh game trail, but one by one, all of their familiar haunts come up empty, without even a lingering trace of Shen Yuan’s spiritual energy left behind.   

The head disciple’s room is dusted and undisturbed, as if its occupant might walk through the door at any moment, but the lack of clutter and the empty book shelf makes it very clear to Luo Binghe what the truth must be.

If Shen Yuan returned to the peak after the Conference, he didn’t stay. 

All at once, images crowd the front of his mind—his shixiong grieving, pulling away, turning his back on those responsible for his heartache. 

Yue Qingyuan, always only a step behind wherever his precious Xiu Ya sword went, promised that no one wanted to hurt them. They only wanted to help.

He looked so solemn and righteous that Shen Yuan reluctantly allowed himself to be convinced. Luo Binghe, who had gone to the man for help after a bloody whipping when he was a child, only to be given a walnut cake and turned away at the door, knew better. 

He wasn’t surprised when Shen Yuan was wrenched away from him, and shizun sent him staggering off the cliff with a spiritual dagger buried to the hilt in his chest, all of it happening within a matter of seconds—but it still hurt. 

Shen Yuan’s scream followed him all the way down. 

I’m alive, Luo Binghe thinks, with no one there to tell it to. I came back to you. Let me come back to you. 

——

Including time spent in the abyss, it’s three years before they meet again. 

Luo Binghe’s revenge is his second priority at best, but he is nothing if not efficient and knows how to kill two birds with the same stone. Huan Hua affords him ample resources and opportunities to scour the world for his missing shixiong while playing the role of earnest and diligent new disciple. He snatches up each mission that comes along as though  eager to prove his worth to the sect that so graciously took him in, but he takes every excuse to wander, to search, to make conversation with vendors and innkeepers and passing strangers. 

Have you seen my heart? It lives outside of me in the form of a beautiful young man and tends to wander. Very contrary, likes to fuss over people, could argue the stripes off a lushu just for fun. You’d know it if you met it. You’d never forget. 

The days blur together, meaningless and gray, but he doesn’t stop looking. Shen Yuan still exists somewhere in this world, because otherwise Luo Binghe wouldn’t. It’s the only thing that makes sense. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about. 

And then, finally—an afternoon in Jinlan City, when Luo Binghe arrives in a throng of incompetent gold-clad Huan Hua disciples, to investigate a plague of all things—

He’s there. 

In dark, neutral colors and plain clothes, a traveling cloak with its hood resting down around his shoulders, as if his beauty could possibly be lessened by cheap, shapeless fabrics rather than effortlessly enhanced. His hair falls from its half-tail in glorious waves—he never did have the patience for anything elaborate, only wearing braids when one of his sticky shidimei cajoled and convinced him. Traveling alone, who could he possibly have to roll his eyes at and complain about and sit patiently still for?

A pale green ribbon is all that decorates his hair. Luo Binghe recognizes it instantly. 

“You should spend your allowance on yourself, Binghe,” Shen Yuan scolded him, not for the first time and certainly not for the last. 

“But I did,” Luo Binghe protested, widening his eyes and clasping his hands earnestly, the way he knew worked best. “I wanted it! And now that I have it, I want to give it to you.”

Shen Yuan was too clever by half to be truly fooled by the innocent act, but he always folded like paper anyway. He spoiled all of his shidimei but Luo Binghe most of all. Anyone on Qing Jing Peak would be hard-pressed to think of a single example of Shen Yuan telling Luo Binghe ‘no.’ 

Sure enough, after a second spent visibly wrestling with himself, he blurted, “Oh, fine! Hand it over.” 

He wore it every day since. He’s wearing it now. The wind catches the ends of it, sending it streaming behind him like the tails of a paradise flycatcher. Lovely. 

For a brief moment, Luo Binghe is frozen where he stands, finally faced with the very thing that he’s been missing for years, that he’s been living a miserable half-life without. 

And then he remembers himself and lurches forward. His voice is a tangle in his throat but he manages to choke out, “Shixiong!”

A strike of lightning couldn’t have jolted Shen Yuan into more perfect stillness. He stops mid-step, every inch of him as good as carved from precious jade. He doesn’t turn his head, and the sliver of his face visible from where Luo Binghe stands is very pale. 

Luo Binghe wonders suddenly if this has happened to him before—if Shen Yuan has heard a voice on the road or in the market that was almost familiar, that was almost the one he was hoping for, only to be disappointed when he turned to follow it and found a stranger. 

Luo Binghe shortens the distance between them with a few anxious steps and tries again. 

“Shixiong.”

The older boy whirls around abruptly, as if to get it over with. He’s bracing himself, but Luo Binghe barely has a second to absorb Shen Yuan’s painful-looking anticipation before it bleeds out of his face in favor of something else entirely. 

He looks like the earth has fallen out from beneath his feet, like he hardly dares to believe his eyes. Zheng Yang gleams golden at Shen Yuan’s hip, reforged and whole again.

“Binghe?”  

“It’s me,” Luo Binghe says softly. 

There’s a tableau he’s afraid to break, as if they’re in a delicate dreamscape and a move too sudden or loud might dissolve it. He wants to say I’ve missed you the way lungs miss air, immediately and needfully, I haven’t breathed at all since we’ve been apart. He wants to say you’re my light in the dark, I can only stand in front of you now because I love you too much to ever truly leave you. 

Instead, he tells his dearest friend, “This one made you wait. But your Binghe is here.”

Shen Yuan sprints the rest of the way to meet him, almost before he’s even finished talking, and they collide in a solid embrace that knocks the air from them both. 

His arms wind around Luo Binghe’s waist like steel bands, fingers digging into the back of his robes, precious face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Luo Binghe doesn’t hesitate to gather him up close, holding him as tightly and securely as he knows how, burying his nose in his shixiong’s hair and breathing in the familiar, beloved smell of him.  

Shen Yuan is a few inches shorter than he remembers. All the better to tuck him beneath Luo Binghe’s chin, to cover and surround him so completely that not even the heavens above can get a decent eyeful. 

He wants to grab and bite and pin Shen Yuan beneath him and never let go. His jaw aches with wanting it. 

“I’ve been looking for you,” Luo Binghe says, eyes wet. “I went home first.” Unsaid goes the obvious but you weren’t there. 

“How could I stay?” Shen Yuan bites out, managing to sound all at once strangled and bewildered and—charmingly—offended. He shakes his head without lifting it, an aggressive nuzzle against Binghe’s shoulder. “After what they did to you, I’d rather die than represent their stupid sect another minute.”

“Step away from it, Shen Yuan,” shizun said coldly. “I’ll put that beast back where it belongs.”

“No,” shixiong said in a voice that was smaller than usual, one that shook. He was frightened, clearly overwhelmed, but he didn’t budge from where he was plastered in front of Luo Binghe like a breathing shield. 

“Now.” 

“No, shizun.”

“Shizhi,” Yue Qingyuan said gently, offering his hand. “Come here. It will be alright.”

Shen Yuan said, “No. You can’t hurt Binghe. He’s not bad just because of who his parents are. He’s as good as he was yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that. He’s hardworking and loyal and a sweetheart to anybody who gives him half a chance. He’s so good.”

Liu Qingge was behind the sect leader, sword drawn. Shen Qingqiu was quickly losing what little patience he had, face twisted into a sneer, dark eyes stabbing hatefully at Luo Binghe from over his head disciple’s shoulder. There were more figures rapidly drawing closer, the other peak lords following the flare of Yue Qingyuan’s qi. The standoff was becoming more and more untenable, and Shen Yuan was too smart not to see that, shrinking back against Luo Binghe as much as he could without crowding him closer to the edge. 

“You can’t hurt him,” he said again, the closest Luo Binghe had ever heard him come to tears, “he’s my shidi.”

Luo Binghe is unsurprised by his shixiong’s loyalty, because it’s already been proven to him over and over. It’s unremarkable at this point, which is an absolutely remarkable thing in itself. It makes him feel warm with gratitude and affection and ownership. 

Shen Yuan is clever and quick on his feet and always three steps ahead, more knowledgeable about flora and fauna than anyone else Binghe has ever known combined, and probably a force to be reckoned with as a rogue cultivator, where the only rules of conduct he has to adhere to are his own. 

But Luo Binghe hates to think of him on the road alone, without the little martial siblings who follow him like ducklings, without his Binghe there to make sure he remembers to eat all his meals and comb out his hair before bed. He’s a creature of comfort, made for airy rooms with too many cushions and an abundance of sweets and books to read. 

Luo Binghe has fantasized more than once about building a home for Shen Yuan to lounge prettily in. It was, in fact, his favorite flavor of daydream since he was about thirteen. 

If Shen Yuan wants to rogue cultivate, then that’s what they’ll do. But Luo Binghe thinks, if he constructs a palace that’s as comfortable as it is grand, and fills it with trashy romance novels and obscure beasts and his own hand-made meals, he can convince his friend to live in it with him.

Shen Yuan needs to be taken care of. Luo Binghe needs to be the one taking care of him. They’re together now and they’ll never be apart again and those needs can both be met. 

That possessive, proprietary feeling coils dark and deep inside him, undulating lazily like a serpent who’s fed enough for days, reminding him over and over what he already knows:

Mine. 

[punkrockscully]

Wet Hot American Bummer

and he’s looking at your mouth with those hazel heat-seekers round and shiny as a promise in your pocket. Singing to him about your dreams, pressure like flashbulbs behind your eyes and a heart going wild as an encore, he makes you animal-sly, viciously slutty choke-ring-etceteras and once he put his arm around your throat and your eyes rolled back in your head.

Now, you want to strip-search his canines. An elastic empress lives inside you— divine feminine memory-parts down to your delicate ankles—warning: I want to be taken apart; I always get what I want. Architecturally, he’s only slightly taller but you curl like a star around yourself guzzling ghazals you wrote for him until your mystica flays itself apart and you are finally born unto searchlights. He sees you, but now so does everyone else.

Little rituals, exhibition— two lit cigarettes between his fingers is a kiss, his mouth on the filter of both and you think you can still feel his lips there.

You were talking about your dreams, red-hot lovemaking in a magazine making him spit, delightfully rabid as you are, asterisks marking secrets with no fine print. Wet hot American bummer—this is going to end, you will no longer get what you want, and a quiet tidying will make everyone forget. But not you, not him, with his tiny inhalation at the sight of your cocked hip, eyes wavebreaking over your body. God-knows-whose-soul is in whose hands now.

[maybe-boys-do-love]

A Tale of a Thousand Stars answers the age-old question: What if Hallmark movies were good?

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

If one awful thing can make me dislike a show so completely, it stands to reason that the opposite might be true. And this show was, at times, a complete mess. Ohm carried me through most of it. But you know what, I don't care. Because, they are the sweetest couple. Seriously cavity inducing. I was grinning through most of this finale. The covering of the ears has got to be one of my favourite things that has ever happened, right until the end. And Q wasn't healed through the wonderful power of love but through therapy? Truly ground breaking stuff.

[iristial]

Hotarou and Rinne holding hands 🥺🥹

[hyakunana]

Interrupting all my chores for a very important event