#happy birthday my angel

[princegeorgeofwales]

HAPPY 11TH BIRTHDAY TO HRH PRINCE GEORGE ALEXANDER LOUIS OF WALES🎉🇬🇧🎂👑💙🎉🇬🇧🎂👑💙

[fskip]

you're like an angel @manjiso

[spadesofspader]

celebrating jimmy in the best way i know how

[ollyalexander]

alexander_olly: i’m 33 today ! thank you for all your messages and all your support over the years!! i really love you x

[eliseinmemphis]

happy birthday, elvis 🤍

im so lucky to be able to share this day with you

[samswinchesters]

Explaining freedom to angels is a bit like teaching poetry to fish.

[delzinrowe]

a compilation of Gale being Gale | HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANGEL ♡

bonus:

[lesbianballofgender]

Happy 55th birthday to our feral, light and fluffy, serious actor and truly just the nicest person: Michael Sheen!!

[kimtaegis]

MUSE (noun) : a source of inspiration

in collaboration with @fluffypelusa-blog ↳ happy 29th birthday, jimin ♡

click for hd

[beandraws]

Happy Birthday Cass😌🫶🏻

He is so hard to draw idk what it is I’ve drawn him and given up like 3 times

[princegeorgeofwales]

HAPPY 10TH BIRTHDAY TO HRH PRINCE GEORGE ALEXANDER LOUIS OF WALES🎉🇬🇧🎂👑💙🎉🇬🇧🎂👑💙

[triona-tribblescore]

Started making Angel's birthday art, had a breakdown, Bon appetite! His birthdays before he joined the hotel probably weren't the best :<

[flwrstqr]

♡ SHUT UP AND KISS ME / PARK JAY

🪽 : jay x fem!r. 𖥔 academic rivals to lovers 1000wc. 𓈃 ◌⠀⠀˖ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄

YOU'VE NEVER LIKED JAY. Ever since you two became top students, it had been a constant battle. Who could score higher on the next test? Who would get called on first in class? It didn’t matter what it was—if there was a way to compete, you and Jay would find it.

Today was no different. After a heated argument during PE, of all places, you were both punished with the oh-so-glamorous task of cleaning the locker rooms. You could still feel the frustration bubbling beneath your skin as you slammed the mop into the bucket, glaring at him across the room.

“This is your fault,” you snapped, sweeping the mop across the floor aggressively.

Jay, leaning lazily against one of the lockers, raised an eyebrow. “My fault? You're the one who started yelling in the middle of the game. Couldn’t handle losing, could you?”

“I didn’t lose! You just—” You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “You know what? I don’t care. Just clean so we can get out of here.”

He didn’t move. Instead, he crossed his arms and gave you that signature smirk that made your blood boil. “Why do you always have to be so competitive?”

You froze for a second, glaring at him. “Excuse me? You’re literally the definition of competitive.”

He shrugged, the movement slow and almost infuriatingly casual. “Maybe. But at least I’m good at it.”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

There was that look in his eyes again—the one that said he enjoyed riling you up. And of course, it was working.

You stomped over to him, the mop clattering to the floor behind you. “You think you’re so much better than me just because you’re good at—”

Jay cut you off with a laugh, leaning in just enough that you could smell the faint cologne mixed with the sweat from earlier. “You know, you get really worked up about this. It’s almost cute.”

Your jaw clenched. Cute? The nerve of him.

And then something snapped in you. Maybe it was the months, no, years of pent-up frustration. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you like he knew exactly how to push your buttons. Maybe it was the damn tie hanging loosely around his neck that gave you an idea.

Without thinking, your hand shot out and grabbed his tie, yanking him closer until his mouth stopped moving. His eyes widened, the smirk dropping as he stumbled forward, bracing his hands against the locker behind you. The sudden closeness made your heart race, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the fact that he was finally silent.

“You talk too much,” you muttered, still holding onto his tie, fingers curled around the fabric.

For a second, Jay didn’t move. He was staring down at you, mouth parted slightly in shock, his breath coming a little faster now that you were only inches apart. The usual cocky attitude was gone, replaced with something else—something you weren’t quite sure how to interpret.

And then, in a split second, something shifted in his expression. The surprise melting away as his lips curled up ever so slightly. His hand came up to rest over yours, holding his tie.

“Maybe you should do something about it then,” he said softly, the challenge clear in his voice.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. What was happening? This was Jay. The same guy who drove you insane with his constant need to outdo you. The same guy who always had something snarky to say, always one-upping you.

But right now, none of that seemed to matter.

Before you could stop yourself—before you could even think it through—you pulled him down, crashing your lips against his.

For a moment, everything went silent. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, the feeling of his lips moving against yours, the faint taste of the mint gum he always chewed. Jay responded immediately, kissing you back with an intensity that made your knees weak.

He pulled away, just enough to breathe, but kept his forehead resting against yours. His hand still held yours, like he wasn’t ready to let go.

“Well,” he breathed, his voice rougher than usual, “that’s one way to shut me up.”

You rolled your eyes, though your pulse was still racing. “You’re still talking.”

Jay chuckled, his breath warm against your lips as he leaned in again, this time kissing you, like he was savoring the moment.

When he pulled back, his smirk was back, “I guess I lost this time, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, finally letting go of his tie. “Maybe just this once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Trust me, I won’t,” you shot back, though there was no bite to your words this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up at him.

Maybe this whole rivalry wasn’t what you thought it was. Maybe all the tension, all the arguments… maybe it had been leading to this all along.

[etesians]

“I’ve just had a thought.”

Kei looks up from his phone, eyes drooping, the hour you’ve spent lounging on the couch rendering him immune to the fact that his neck is bent at a disastrous angle against the armrest. It has you pulling him forward, taking the pillow from under your neck to stuff under his, but it’s a fine trade. Now you can lay against the warmth of his chest and settle into what Kei calls the pre-nap—or, what he used to call it, back when he was still too embarrassed to simply say that he wanted cuddles.

“Woah, careful there," he can't pass up the opportunity to start with. Then, "Good kind or bad kind?”

You hum. “Sickeningly domestic kind.”

“So… good,” he decides after a beat, setting his phone down on the coffee table.

Those long, gentle fingers you love slide into your hair, and it’s a wonder how they’re always able to sate an itch that only manifests itself mere seconds before the touch, just so they can be rubbed away by him and him alone; suspiciously wizard-like. “It’s not like I’m opposed to any of that… Since it’s you.”

Aww.

“Honeycakes—” you coo obnoxiously, disguising his name in the endearment, which gets you exactly what you'd expect—the full moon's circumference of his palm eclipsing your vision, his grip light as he smushes your face around for a while, unable to rid himself of the urge. When he lets go a minute later, you share a mirrored look of contentment, all stupid smiles and rolling eyes, before you settle your ear over his heart and he resumes massaging your scalp.

Whatever video he was watching drones on in the meantime. Something about a supermoon coming up and dropping temperatures… Partly rainy with a high of seventy-three degrees and a low of sixty-eight and—wow, he really got sucked into watching the weather channel... Such old man behavior. But it’s quiet enough to tune out against the steady drum in his ribs, so you both leave it be.

“Your idea, baby.”

“Oh, right. So I was thinking—y’know, when we start buying stuff for the house…”

“Mmhm?”

“For utensils, what if we found the same forks you grew up using, and the same spoons I had, so that our future kid'll have pieces of both of our childhoods already built into theirs? It’d be like our own little mismatched set.” "You're right..." It's quiet for a moment. Then Kei blows out a breath, his mind positively sunnier with the image. “That is sickeningly domestic.”

You open your mouth to defend the idea—because it is a good idea, notes-app worthy, even—when he tacks on, “I’m not saying no. God, you’re just so cute sometimes...” the words followed up by him pulling on your cheek. “Is that why you kept hovering by the drawers when we visited my mom? ‘What if’ my ass—you already found them on google, didn't you?”

Your bubbling laughter gives you away. Because he’s right—they’re in your amazon shopping cart as you speak, just waiting on his two cents.

“What about chopsticks, then? And knives. And spatulas.”

Spatulas? You raise a brow.

Kei only shrugs in response.

“The rest can be new. I don’t want all of it to be us holding onto old things,” you pause. “But my star curtains are non-negotiable.”

“They have holes in them.”

“Those are the cutouts! And you even said they were pretty when the light’s seeping through them.”

“Okay, yes, they are pretty," he relents, setting his glasses down by his phone. Silencing the weather report with a slide of his thumb. “But furnishings aside, we’d still be missing one thing…”

“Tsukishima Kei, I know exactly what you’re thinking…” You find yourself being rolled onto your back, his pupils pushing the golden-brown of his irises to the outer rims as they dilate. “And the answer is no.”

“What?” Kei smirks, almost sing-songy as he trails kisses down your collar. He’s not actually gunning for that part of your life together yet. Key word—yet. You’d both agreed to preserve the first year of your marriage for just the two of you. Figuring out the ins and outs of buying a house together and all the legalities that came with it had been hard enough on its own.

Everything after your one-year anniversary, though, is completely fair game.

“You’re the one who brought up a little Tsukishima…”

[try-set-me-on-fire]

good things do happen dean

[andichoseyou]

"For me, the award is the work. All I want to do is keep being able to do this. I love it so much. It makes me so happy. It makes me unbelievably blown away that it makes some people happy who voted for this award too. All I want to do is keep doing this. So thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to do what I love so much. Mind blown. Thank you so much."

Happy 35th Birthday, Taylor Swift! (December 13, 1989)