#i care about THEM

[crumschipp]

Jester and Wolf

[millenniumringg]

Brothers

based on the fic

[wyrm-with-a-why]

I have been crying for hours about doomed yuri bro it got me ok

[smokbeast]

he doesn’t like jazz

[rogue--skeleton]

[aisy15-chan]

[lunearobservatory]

can we see you draw national guard and maryland?

NG and Mary? you mean bbgirl power duo? of course

💫not taking any more reqs rn

[zappedbyzabka]

Savouring <>Fuming

[stingslikeabee]

ghis has sought her out with some semblance of a plan. not one concocted by his own imagination, of course, but sewn together by his desire and drace's own prowess in this field of knowledge. really without her aid he would be about as useful as a fish on land, flopping around in desperation. but all is well, at the moment, where the magistrate has invited her into his less than humble abode for a quiet night of conversation. rare are the moments as of late where he is able to call the capitol city, home. the magister's days are fairly limited to the skies he patrols well beyond archades' borders. in these moments though, where ghis can simply be, he does readily choose to spend them with her.

'you are stunning,' he compliments immediately, the man starstruck for a moment. this happens often, around melissa.

unscripted asks . always accepting

The inner rooms of the home belonging to one of the judge magisters of Archadia was a precious location for intel. One could find out much about their living conditions, food preferences and even details about a schedule that would be undisclosed otherwise. It was easier to get a trained officer to be unguarded at their own residences and to justify the casual investigation of the place under the excuses of being lost within such imponent surroundings.

The Marquis would have been overjoyed if he knew of such invitations and plans from judge Ghis - but these were never properly communicated back to the Sky City. By the time Melissa was invited to such occasions, the dancer lacked the old enthusiasm to see the man dead or held accountable by the crimes perpetrated by the empire he served. In the most unexpected twists of the fate, the Gods had seen fit to have an undercover agent turning sincere in her pretend act.

The smile when returning the invitation by writing to Ghis' aide, the careful planning into her appearance for the evening (with the right amount of jewelry, perfume and colorful fabric enveloping her body) and even the way her hand pressed into the magistrate's open compliment - none of them were rehearsed or performed with a hidden agenda in mind. At some point, surely, the leader of Bhujerba would send another missive with ciphered wording inquiring about Melissa's advances and success with the judge that had warranted a prolonged stay in imperial lands - but it was not a concern for that evening.

Perhaps, for once, Melissa shared the same lack of regard of her host for the future day - the man had stepped out of his trademark armor and opened his home (and possibly his heart) to the Bhujerban in a fashion that had no connection to his duties as a man of the law. There was no planning for the next morning, just the eagerness to profit from the rare occasion of the two of them being free and in the same city.

Once Melissa was taken further inside, the attentive servant who had been in charge of closing the doors disappeared. The first drawing room to where the dancer was steered to was very much Archadian - overflowing with the opulence and material comforts expected of someone of his station and family background. And yet, Ghis had eyes only for her, uncaring for the appearances presented. His home was often empty and impersonal - Melissa was being granted an unique chance not only to see it, but to find its owner there too, dressed as a man rather than a tool of the Empire.

"It pleases me to hear that, Jarvis," the Bhujerban mentioned in a low, intimate tone once she was lead to a comfortable couch. It lacked the exuberant covers of these at her home, but it offered more than enough room for Ghis to take a seat close to her, perhaps closer than the proper etiquette would mandate. Right hand raising to touch his face tenderly, Melissa allowed herself the boldness of those born closer to the stars in the floating island, smiling at the man before inching closer for a kiss that was as sweet as it was scandalous if the servants returned to that room.

"I dressed for your gaze alone, after all," the dancer murmured upon parting from that brief caress over the judge's lips, however lingering within his personal space, "And while I would be delighted to hear about your travels and everything that is novel about our vast world, I would also be more than happy to let you take my outfit apart. I have cleared my morning schedule following your invitation - I hope you have no intentions of seeing me leave until well after sunrise."

[lunaisbold]

Page 1/? of a short comic of two queer vampires talking about f e e l i n g s

Buffy on the left belongs to me and Genna on the right belongs to @nukbody

[marblearkz]

no one understands that big shot billy joel is actually about bruce wayne and clark kent

[fangirlanxiety74]

Hey, does anyone remember when I posted my human AM on here, alongside the girlie I ship him with? Well, I saw @vasyandii do this with VernonAM (A lovely ship y'all should go see if you haven't yet 🙏) and wanted to do my own version!!!

Uhh you'll have to possibly click on the image, or open in a new tab to see it properly, I apologize :') But anyways, they!! The sillies. Just two kids in a world that didn't want them.

Also, for anyone curious: Mi alma means my soul/my soulmate :3

Also also, art of them by beentobeetle :3

[glsneeg-enthusiast]

im still thinking about how sneeg seemed the most worried about charlie during the bad hat scene and not like the actual fucking rotting corpse next to him that he had been carrying around and talking to and how he grabbed the fence while telling ranboo hes gonna come back and how he genuinely had full intentions of coming back for them and

[tearlunars]

28. — golden

"the sun doesn’t shine here anymore.”

  eva looked at the sunset reflected in each window of the housing ward in ishgard.    during clear skies, it looked like a thousand lighthouses beckoning her to come home, to curl herself near the fireplace and just let the warmth envelop her, instead she chose to rest amidst the white snow, leaning against a cold grave.    she would talk for hours, never had she talked so much before, telling him about her adventures, how the scions are doing, how much he would love to travel with her group. 

  there are no more tears -  not anymore.   she had made peace with such loss, even though she still had a void to fill ( one that would probably stay with her for the rest of her long life ).     she learnt to live with it for the time being.     but even then, during calmer times, eva would still visit him -  a way of keeping his memory alive, of remembering him for who he was.

despite the stolen glances, the letters, the long night conversations, eva was never able to say the truth and when haurchefant did, it was with his dying breath and with a promise she had to fulfill.

so she would visit him during the golden hour to recount her tales, like she would do if he was still alive.   the girl would bring a cup of hot cocoa, sit still watching the sun disappear behind his homeland and she would truly rest.

  not even the voices of winter or death kept them apart.

One Word Writing Prompts | @gatheredfates

[elminx]

I woke up this morning having an anxiety attack because we are leaving for the beach today and the weather is now saying that we might have a frost here on Wednesday morning. I've already put in some tender perennials and annuals because we're more than two weeks past our frost date...

It would be fine if I was going to be home to cover my plants. But also it's May and we live on the valley floor...we're supposed to be able to garden now.

It will suck to lose the stuff that we bought this year because I'm a Taurus and I don't like wasting money but more than anything I'm gonna be hella bummed if we lose the fuschia plant that we've grown and successfully overwintered for the last three years. That little plant has been starting to feel like a part of the family.

[amygdalae]

we're having sex and you pull out at the end to discover your cock is entirely gone, dissolved (ive digested it like a pitcher plant). bye!