#cause you know

[mushrooms-and-blooms]

but the Devil sees all and She thinks you're a beauty

this girl and this devil scene live in my brain live in my brain live in my brain

[thedoctor-and-donna]

Since Fifteen is Fourteen healed (“healed”) he’s got to have Fourteens memories to an extent (it’s been well established that they don’t really remember the past events that involve two doctors of different times until it’s happened already)

That being said, do you think Fifteen ever calls up Fourteen and is like “hey babes, don’t go to the store today” and Fourteen is freaking out trying to figure out why but Fifteen doesn’t really remember why cause it hasn’t happened yet. It’s just a hunch Fifteen has

Turns out it’s cause Fourteen needs to buy milk for Rose but the milk she drinks is out of stock and it’s a wasted trip to the store

Fourteen phones Fifteen to be like “bruh” and Fifteen is just like “oh yaaaaaa, I remember now. Nothing to worry about tho!”

[just-french-me-up]

#48 for the ask prompts! ❤️

N°8 : A kiss out of habit

Now buckle up for a Dreamling Green Knight AU ! I had to fist fight myself not to go overboard with this!

It had caught Hob off guard, on the first day. The lady of the castle giving him a kiss had had him dread the return of her lord husband, for they had agreed to exchange the day's earnings, and what else had there been to trade, but the kiss he had been given?

The lord had accepted it, stoic against Hob's trembling lips. In return, Hob had been given a story, a tale of the lord's invention that day. His mind worked beautifully, and Hob had watched his lips as they gave life to unearthly tales, drinking each word in like sweet wine.

On the second day, the lady's kisses had gone from surprising to intriguing. Hob had passed them on that very evening, the lord's scent now familiar as their noses had brushed together, trading breath for breath. The lord had been less stoic then. Hob could remember the knock of his heart against his chest as the lord had pressed his lips to his, opening Hob's mouth into something beyond transactional. Less chaste.

Hob had paid little attention to the lord's tale, that night. He had pretended to, of course, nodding his head, interjecting here or there, but his attention had wandered elsewhere. In the sharp line of his host's jaw. In the pale shade of his eyes, where the flames of the fireplace seemed to burn brighter still. He had itched to kiss him again, feel that fervor again. Patience. They had agreed on three nights, hadn't they?

On the third day, the lady's kisses had become a habit. Hob had expected them. Hoped for them. The poor woman's advances remained unanswered, Hob politely refusing anything further. All he could think about was the evening, when the lord would find him and ask for his earnings.

But the lord was late.

Night had fallen, dinner had been served, eaten, plates taken away, and there was no sign of the lord of the castle.

When the hour had become unreasonable, Hob retired to his bedchamber, pacing the fine floors. The morning would see him leave his hosts' care, for he had agreed to meet the Green Knight at the green chapel. He would die then, he was sure of it. A blow for a blow. He would die without having given the lord his due. How could he bear it?

Someone knocked on the door. Startled, Hob approached it, apprehension and hope both tugging at his stomach. Could it be the lord? Or his wife, seeking him out to attempt to seduce him once more, in her husband's absence?

Standing at the threshold was his host, his black hair slightly damp. His clothes were perfectly dry, but Hob noticed the mud on his shoes. He must have come here straight away, he told himself, far from indifferent to the implications.

"Apologies," the lord said. "My duties have kept me away longer than I realised."

"I thought so," Hob lied.

"I could send for a servant to rekindle the fire in the hall, so we may trade there."

"The household has gone to bed," Hob countered smoothly, keen on the idea of them there, alone. "Let us not disturb them. Perhaps we may conduct our trade here?"

He stepped back, showing the inside of his chambers. The lord seemed to hesitate, but eventually agreed to follow Hob in, closing the door behind them. There they stood. Alone. Hob swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close they were. They had stood close before, as one must when kissing another, but this felt... intimate. Illicit, almost, in the most intoxicating way.

"Well?" the lord asked. "What have you earned today, Ser Gadling?"

Without a word, Hob inched closer, his hands behind his back. The lord did not flinch at he leant forward, meeting his lips in a slow embrace. They came apart in a soft sigh, the lord's eyes fluttering open as Hob leant back.

"What else?" his host asked, almost as a challenge.

The second kiss was more daring, earning Hob a few more sighs. He held the lord's chin as his tongue brushed his, hunger pooling at the pit of his stomach, but he stopped himself, pulling back. The man was flushed now, his back almost to the door. Hob could not say he disliked the sight. If anything, it called to him, wild thoughts sprouting in his mind of how else he'd like to see this lord, pretty pink mouth and all.

"Is this how this earning was given to you?" the man whispered. He did not sound angry. He didn't even sound curious, really. Only wanting.

"No," Hob's thumb trailed from his chin to his lower lip, tracing the plump, glistening flesh there, hot breath blowing in his skin, threatening to undo him. "This is how you shape it."

"This was not in the rules," the lord pointed out, though he did not move. If anything, Hob could have sworn he was closer. "Is this all?"

"Not quite."

The third kiss was ravenous, Hob pouring his longing and desires into the embrace, pushing the lord against the door until their bodies were entwined, hands grasping for more, pulling fabric as though to meld them together. They were both out of breath by the time they pulled back, lips inches apart.

"I must be gone in the morning," Hob rasped. "I fear I won't come back. I shall meet my end there."

The lord observed him, almost intrigued.

"Stay," Hob asked, on the verge of begging.

"The trade―"

"Tell me your story in the morning, before dawn. Close the trade then. Stay."

"I can not, for you must receive my end of the bargain tonight."

Hob shook his head, desperate to keep him close.

"Keep it. I do not want it. I want you."

Slowly, the man raised a hand to Hob's hair, cupping the back of his head, and kissed his forehead.

"Have I ever told you my name, Hob?"

Hob stared at him, at a loss. Now that he mentioned it...

"No. You haven't."

"I am Dream, Prince of Stories. Such is the nature of my offering, tonight."

Hob frowned, confused. Prince? His host had always had a regal flair to him, but he could never have imagined...

"Dream? You're offering me a dream? How?"

"It hardly matters."

Dream's hand fell from Hob's hair to his cheek, his caress soft, but clearly meant to break the tension between them.

"Go to bed, Hob Gadling. Close your eyes, give yourself to sleep. I may visit you in more ways that one."

Hob pressed Dream's hand to his cheek, refusing to let go. Such promises could not be. The body against his was flesh and bones, he could feel it. He closed his eyes, trying to burn the touch into his memory, the warmth of his skin. By the time he opened his eyes, the lord was gone, as though he'd vanished into thin air, and he was left cradling his own hand, empty.

Hob stared at the door, dejected. Now that he was alone, what else was there to do but lie in bed, waiting for the morning of his death? How could he sleep, knowing where he was headed? Yet curiosity wormed its way through his despair, making him glance back at the bed waiting for him.

He was to be given a dream. One last dream. And his host had ever been gifted at telling stories. How could he refuse him?

Send me a kissing prompt?

[theroundbartable]

Gaius: so, what is your favorite past time?

Arthur: *about to answer*

Gaius: making out with Merlin doesn't count

Arthur: *opens mouth*

Gaius: dreaming about making out with Merlin doesn't count either

Arthur: Ha-

Gaius: Let's just assume your favorite past time has to not involve Merlin.

Arthur: ...

Arthur: Breathe?

[badassindistress]

Good evening all!

In 2021 I drew this dapper little squirrel and now he's getting the chance to say hello to you all~

[turbodrawn]

Despite everything, it’s still… you.

———————————————————————————————-

Dewdrop/Sodo angst? More likely than you think

[tiringwritings]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Messing Around, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Jealousy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kinda?, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, He’s suffering a little bit, Evan "Buck" Buckley Needs A Hug, and therapy, Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, sub dropping, Always discuss color coding guys!!!, No Beta We Die Like Soldiers, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has a Praise Kink, Evan "Buck" Buckley Has Abandonment Issues, Eddie Diaz Takes Care of Evan "Buck" Buckley Summary:

Buck really, really thought he had Eddie Diaz figured out—calm, collected, always in control. But when Eddie takes control in ways Buck didn’t expect, it left him unraveling at the seams.

[propertyofsamcollins]

I feel like Sam wouldn't wipe away Darlin's tears.

I fully believe that he believes that wiping away a person's tears is the same this as a shh or don't cry, and he hates both of them, so the only way he'd wipe Darlin's tears is if he could see them struggling to open their eyes or smth

But I really just can't see him doing that

[ananke-xiii]

woa, the "I need a silly show to watch while I eat" to "I must academically research about queer subtext in media at 2 am" pipeline is real.

[bubblepopsims]

Little bit - Lykke Li

(Definitely L. Singing this about Cesar at the very beginning)

@fl0ptrait

[kingarubin]

"Ouma Kokichi is in love with Saihara Shuichi" I say into the mic.

The crowd cheers. I stand proudly on the stage when a voice speaks and commands silence from the room.

"That's a lie" they say. I look for the owner of the voice. There in the 5th row stands: Ouma Kokichi himself.

[piiinkfreak]

Heeey it's the Yummeng siblings again!

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[mauloveskpop]

Spotify Wrapped 2023 ♡ Top Songs

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

[hanitje]

Moments Before Disaster

[orangjoe]

Day 7: accident (really I just wanted to draw amputation)

please click for better quality 🙏