#i love them so so sooo much

[minchanlove]

leeknow's reaction to chan being cute 🥺 my men are so tender 💕

[deusfoundry]

thats actually my family

[prismaiden]

[ spar ]

The axe’s blade bites the snow beneath them, naught but a few deadly inches away from Anri’s helm. It was lowered slowly, though, with no intent to draw blood or threaten her pulse — her heart, beating fast now, loud enough it surely rings in her head like a clamour of cathedral bells.

Creighton looms above her now, teeth bared behind the steel wall of his mask, though murder, for once, has no home in his eyes. One knee digs into Anri’s breastplate, pressing her into the powdery white below them, the two sinking slowly as snow crinkles and crushes beneath their combined weight. He is panting, shoulders heaving, hands shaking against the haft of the axe he has now loosened his grip upon.

He meets her eyes — those beautiful, doe-like eyes, and all the fear and fury that swirls and churns within them — and it’s clear he wants to say something. But he is too out of breath. Sparring matches are no stranger to the Mirrahn knight, of course. But Anri sure as hell gave him a run for his coin.

And so, in this moment of silence, Creighton releases his hold on his weapon — the axe stays put in the snow beside his friend’s cheek — and shifts to straddle Anri’s waist gently, hands falling dumbly at his sides. His breath, hot and fast, trails out his mask in tendrils of steam as he tilts his head back and pants in great volumes.

Breathe…

[from lockawayknight :3💕]

@lockawayknight ♡

Snow caved beneath the combined weight of bodies and armour, buckling earthward with a sound that was both soft and sharp.  In another encounter, this frozen crater might have proved a resting place, a frost-rimmed grave on the borders of the Boreal Valley.  Instead, it became a cradle, a powdery palm holding Anri in a moment of shared respite.  Next to her head, the silvery crescent of Creighton’s axe lay buried, signifying the end of their session. 

No matter how many times they fought, Anri was left in awe of the savagery and ferocity with which her friend was able to conduct himself.  There was a precision to his swings, power enough to stagger her even with a shield to absorb the brunt of those blows.  Such craft was not easily taught, if such a thing could even be learned.  By comparison, when she moved, it was with the knightly countenance and choreography she had inherited from her forbear.  She did not share the same fluidity, the same predatory instinct. 

Perhaps she had come to the blade too late, or maybe she was muzzled by her deep-seated reluctance to cause harm to any besides Aldrich and his ilk.  It could even be that her very desire to survive faltered – Anri had already lived too long, and was weary in a way no amount of sleep could ever remedy.  Still, she challenged Creighton to the best of her ability, pirouetting around him, redirecting the sharp edge of his axe with the tip of her lucky straight sword, fresh snow churning beneath their boots.  Until, at last, she was knocked flat.  Had this been a duel of real intent, it would have ended with her skull split down to the brainstem.  

Exhalations billowed through his steel mask, appearing in time with the ragged fall of his chest.  Similarly spectral plumes leaked through the vents of her helm, as though in answer.  Only under Creighton could she be this calm.  When his shadow fell on her, it felt warm.  His weight at her breast, then her waist, came as a comfort.  No matter how far along the path of undeath they marched, she could not imagine him ever forgetting himself, or forgetting her.  Desiring wintry air on her face, Anri pulled free her helm, her head protected from the earth by pinned plaits of golden hair.  Carried on the wind, swirls of snowflakes stung exposed skin like grit.  Silence stretched as she lay exhilarated and spent, cold air burning her lungs and cheeks.  

“Slain, again.”

It was an observation made without complaint and accompanied instead by the gentlest of smiles.  This was his triumph, his victory, and she celebrated him.  Anri released her grip on her sword, leaving it embedded in its pristine pillow of snow, and took Creighton’s gloved hands fondly into her own.  More than mere play, their sparring carried purpose.  Purpose like that which hung as a millstone around her neck.  Purpose like that which waited for her in the icy heart of Ithryll.

“Do you think I am ready?”

Just as she could not bear to be explicit in her meaning, she could not bring herself to ask the question that lay leaden on her tongue: Will you come with me?

[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

[stunt-fia]

bkdk & cherry blossom (they’re so in love)

i see you horikoshi you aren’t slick >.<

[notherpuppet]

Which part of your Alastor and Lucifer human comic (I forgot what It's named) is your favorite?

Ahhh I have so much fun with the “My Deer Nanny” AU, it’s hard to pick. Here are some of my fave moments (sorry it’s so disorganized haha)

Charlie meets Alastor 🌈 🦌

EDIT: OMG I FORGOT TO INCLUDE THIS FAVE MOMENT

Jealous Vox 😜📺

Lucifer and Alastor’s “hug” 🩸🫂

Huskerdust meets in Nanny AU 🐈‍⬛🕸️

Rosie, Alastor, and Lucifer trio 🥀📻🍎

Mimzy, Alastor, and Lucifer trio 🐥🍎🦌

Almimzy dancing 💃🏼🕺🏽

Lucifer dips Alastor 🪩

Doe-eyed Alastor 🥹🦌

Link to Masterpost

[dailycupofcreativitea]

"So then he threw the Dragon Ball into the ocean, but luckily we had the Dragon Radar, so Bulma sent Gohan to get it, and then..." 🫠

(In other words: Trunks finally hears about Vegeta's shenanigans from the Saiyan saga to the present. But the others reassure him that Vegeta's (probably) a team player now, so it's okay!)

[blossoms-phan]

i am so fond of them and their silly little drinks 🥹

[yaolmao]

they bring that lingering, fucked-up-childhood gaze to the function

[batmecha]

v2s and mirages

[glowsticcc]

everyone say thank you qsmp prison event

[turtleblogatlast]

I think a lot about Leo standing up for his brothers in the things that really matter to them.

Like- Leo is the one who immediately pushes Mikey and Donnie into finding Raph the second it’s clear that their oldest brother is missing because he knows Raph can’t handle being separated like that.

Leo is the one who stands up for Mikey when Mikey wants to go on a solo mission, actively vouching for him and being the one to convince Raph into letting Mikey go, because being independent and proving himself just as capable of standing on his own two feet as everyone else means so much to Mikey.

And Leo defends Donnie’s honor in particular when his brothers’ intelligence is insulted because Leo is well aware of how important Donnie’s smarts are to him - and how important having those smarts valued and acknowledged is as well.

All this goes right into just how well Leo knows his brothers. For as much as he’ll tease or fight with them, he knows them, and he loves them.

[oodlesodoodles]

[amygdalae]

fucking astounding news: my two wonderful beasts are friends with eachother

[skipblebee]

LIVE LAUGH LOVE FENGQING FOREVER!!!!!

[four-unwell-lesbians]

Thinking about the way dungeon meshi does queer horror. Using horror to tell queer stories is already subversive, but dungeon meshi subverts it even more

Normal queer horror is like. A monsterous desire and immortal love of something isolated/hated and the uncontrollable but suppressed need to consume someone to live and they only die if you break/pierce their heart. its great.

In dungeon meshi, the group is STARVING. they do things the way they're expected to and they're so deprived that eventually, one of them is consumed by that monsterous desire.

Then when Falin becomes a monster, she doesn't eat Marcille because she doesn't NEED to, Marcille already offered herself up as part of Falin by mixing her own blood with the dragon's for the resurrection.

Also Marcille is a monster too!! She doesn't need to be turned by Falin. She's a 'witch' doing black magic for one but she's also very vampiric

Her name is super vampirey especially given one of the translation spellings was Marcilla, an annogram of Carmilla*. And Marcille is very similar to Marceline from Adventure Time so it's a name with heavy connotations to me. Also her staff is Ambrosia which means immortal.

*ps Carmilla is the original modern vampire that inspired Dracula and also a lesbian. she used annagrams of her name (Marcilla, Mircalla, Millarca) to disguise herself across hundreds of years.

Marcille is like. a vampire in that death is a big part of her theme. She can breathe that immortality into someone else using her resurrection black magic and death is a huge part of her character. She wants them to live as long as she does. To make them immortal. Like. Like a vampire. Vampires which are unholy when her love interest is a cleric.

But once again this is subverted!! she doesn't 'turn' Falin, she makes her undead by giving her own blood instead of taking Falin's. Falin becomes a monster not because she's attacked or turned, but because her DNA, something INHERENT about her is now intertwined with the monster. so a god-like figure merges them. Then the only way to free her from that frenzy and grant her autonomy again is to finally consume her. something inherently lesbian about all that i think idk about you