#sweet bbg

[schwhoopsie]

hey so after mr g reveals he’s going through a divorce hazel is the only member of the club that goes to comfort him

[kylemaclachlanfanatic]

A new photo of Kyle MacLachlan recreating an iconic photo of his character Dale Cooper from the tv series Twin Peaks, November 2024. 😍 And the other new photos of Kyle MacLachlan are for the Germany GQ’s “Man Of The Year” Nov 2024, Looking amazing as usual. ❤️‍🔥🥰

[animaybi]

The Sillies

[p4nishers]

can't believe tom hiddleston ACTUALLY interrupted the interviewer to say "one last thing, i think mobius is loki's friend and i don't think loki has ever had a friend before" like king. i love how u felt the need to add that truly

[anticanonsposts]

Random Fluff Headcanons-König

Completely SFW

If your bed has a bunch of pillows and blankets he falls asleep so fast and will be dead asleep until he wakes up. It gets to the point where he just needs to be in your bed smelling you to fall asleep. 

Like this man will become dead weight on you if he falls asleep on top of you, to the point that you end up squeezing out from under him just to get some of his body heat off of you, and so you can breathe easier. 

Speaking of sleeping on you he can fall asleep on any part of your body as long as his head is resting there. Chest, butt, thighs, shoulders, back, ANYWHERE 

You’re pretty big but he has stressed so many times that that’s what he loves. And since dude is built the way he is he lifts you like you’re nothing. He consistently tells you that you are physically perfect for him and that he loves a woman with curves and rolls.

(I've seen a few relationship counselors on tik tok talk about how gym rats sometimes love bigger women, and König is so strong why wouldn't he want to do a few extra sets at home with you, using you)

This mountain of a man will kick his feet and cover his face whenever you text that you are coming over or you invite him over. 

When you two travel together you usually opt to drive since its cheaper and planes are very uncomfortable for him. In the car you can stop whenever you want to get out and stretch your legs, once you taught him the term ‘passenger princess’ he is obsessed with it and puts your name on the glove box on the passenger side of his car (probably truck let's be honest). Thankfully you like to talk a lot so that keeps him occupied when his mind wanders and he gets antsy while driving 

The few times that you do fly he is the brawns and you are the brains, you keep track of the boarding passes and gate changes and he is in charge of the bags, he usually needs to have something in his hand to fidget with whether it be a fidget toy or your hand, he gets more nervous on planes since once he enters a plan all eyes usually go to him. And he is cramped the entire time.

This obviously doesn’t help with his body dysmorphia issues and you usually try to distract him once you find your seats with little quips and how excited you are to reach your destination.

It does help that you two always get at least 3 seats (sometimes 4) to share between the two of you, so that you both are more comfortable and so you don't have to deal with any other people.  

Concerning love languages this man is the king of parallel play, he doesn’t care what each of you are doing as long as you are in the same room together, just your presence is comforting to him. 

One of your love languages is principally touch and he at first had no problem with you touching anywhere below his neck, it took awhile for him to get accustomed to someone touching his face and head so gently. 

But at this point in your relationship he loves nothing more than a hand on his cheek. 

Loves loves loves that you treat him like your guard dog, but especially when you go out and bring your friends with. At first you thought this might make you nervous but come one at the end of the day he is a man, and a man surrounded by (and protecting) women is gonna be happy.

If any man is dumb enough to approach or harass you....

They shit themselves once they see the man you have with you.

When you guys go to a club he often gets mistaken for a bouncer by other patrons walking up asking him questions, or other bouncers and bartenders come up to him, asking him to deal with rowdy people, at first he doesn’t understand why this keeps happening, and you just give him a sly smile and he understands. 

Speaking of clubs, he loves to get drunk but it usually takes him double what it takes you to get buzzed, which can get pretty expensive so he always insists on paying when you go out

Why would  you pay if I eat and drink double?

This x2 when you guys go out to eat or if he goes with you grocery shopping, (I cannot imagine the caloric intake a man that big takes in in a day)

Like many people, once you are both drunk, many of your insecurities and mental health issues diminish (obviously just for the short term) and he is no longer as conscious of his size and is able to better tune out the world and just enjoy himself without much encouragement.

Next part only pertains if you take edibles/smoke and if he does it with you..

When he’s high

The way that when girls cuddle and they want to be IN the other person’s skin, this is how he is when he’s high, his face is just glued to the nape of your neck, loving the smell of you and how close he can be to you.

When it comes to cuddling he just loves to be held by you, his favorite is when he's nestled on your chest. 

LOVES having your fingers in his hair.

If you have fake nails on and he loves the way scratches with those feel on any part of his body but especially on his scalp

When spooning he can go either big or little he likes things about both, he loves feeling you wrapped in his arms just getting to gaze at your pretty face, and the likes the security of having your arms wrapped around him.

The meme about dick on the butt and hands on the titties while cuddling is in full swing when you are the big spoon, your hands just rest on his pecs as it's laced with his.

Speaking of your nails, he loves everything to do with them, loves watching you do them, try new designs, and whenever you get a fresh set he admires them and tells you what he likes about them. 

As mentioned before he loves quality time even if you are doing two separate things, so when it takes hours to do your nails, he loves it.

When you are out in public, especially likes fidgeting with your nails, particularly when they have charms on them.

He also tends to fidget with your hands while you are in public and/or if he gets nervous.

He actually does let you paint his nails once he gets comfortable with you, but to your surprise he doesn't want them to be black bc he thinks its ‘too basic’  (you have no idea what content he was consuming to come to this conclusion) he ended up picking a pale iridescent almost opal color with a green tint, it's a lot more subtle which makes him more comfortable to show them off.

[hyperactively-me]

It's cliché, but what if reader caught flu in Kastron? Idk why but to me it looks like country in the north, yk, cold and stoic king and queen from the land of sun. But my point is, reader gets sick, so sick that she collapses and everybody freaks out because they think it might be poisoning of their queen

omg i love this idea so much

Your home kingdom had never experienced winters like the kind in Kastron, where the seasons were known for their harshness and the relentless snowfall that blanketed the land. Back home, there was no snow in the winter season, just gray skies and cold air. But, here in Kastron, the winters were relentless. Feet of snow would pile up and snowstorms would overtake the kingdom. On a particularly calm day, you decided to go for a walk out on the palace grounds, just to explore the snow. 

You ventured into the icy wilderness that surrounded your palace. Your homeland had never experienced such a breathtaking winter wonderland, and you were determined to explore every inch of it. That morning, you had pulled on some boots, wrapped yourselves in furs and coats and pulled on some thick gloves. You slipped out of the palace without letting anyone know, wanting to be left to your own devices. You wanted quiet alone time, anyway. You had been slaving away in the study most days now that it was too cold to go outside. 

As the day wore on, the cold began to gnaw at your bones, and you reluctantly decided to return to the warmth and comfort of the palace. That evening, as you lay in bed, an unsettling chill settled over you. 

When morning came, you awoke to a stifling bug in your throat. Your throat was scratchy, your nose congested, and your body ached from your trek through the snow. Weak and feverish, you summoned your strength to fulfill your duties for the morning. It was a battle getting dressed and ready for the day, your eyes drooping with an exhaustion that only comes from illness. 

As the day progressed, you found yourself wrapped in your readings when Simon had let himself into the study.

“It’s lunchtime,” he says, pulling your book from your hands. 

“Ah, I suppose it is,” you say, sniffling ever so slightly.

Simon accompanied you as you made your way to the dining hall for lunch. The aroma of hearty seasonal foods filled the air, but your appetite had abandoned you. The weight of your illness pressed upon you, and you shivered with chills. You let Simon pull your chair out for you, and you practically drop into the seat as you sit down. 

As you attempted to eat, the sickness tightened its grip. Shivers wracked your body, and sharp muscle and body aches made every movement painful. Dizziness washed over you, the sickness engulfing you entirely.

“Simon—” you slur. 

With a feeling of overwhelming sickness, you collapsed at the table, and the world around you faded into darkness as you lost consciousness.

. . . 

You don’t know how long you’ve been out for. Your consciousness swirled in the darkness, fading in and out. As awareness slowly crept back, you found yourself lying on something soft. It was very nice, very plush, more comfortable than your own bed. Your eyes flutter open, your eyelids feeling heavy. You were in a dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight flickered, casting shadows along the dark walls. 

“Thank God you’re awake,” a voice whispers, relief evident in his voice.

“She’s awake,” a different voice yells out, and you groan from the volume. 

“Go fetch the doctor.”

Weak and disoriented, you managed to speak, your voice hoarse and feeble. “What… happened?”

You fully open your eyes now, blinking away the fuzziness from your vision. Simon is sitting in a chair next to the bed. Two guards stand watch at the door. You look back at him, his balaclava is gone. His worry etched deep lines across his features, a frown present on his face. His hand gently rested on yours, his touch reassuring.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“My chambers,” he says gently, his hand squeezing yours lightly. 

You try to push yourself to sit up, but his hand reaches to gently push you back down. 

“No, no, lay down.” 

You take a look around the dimly lit room, noting the sparse decoration of the large room. “What happened?” you ask again, letting him nudge you back down to resting. 

Simon's expression remained somber as he recounted the incident. “You collapsed at the dining table during lunch.”

“Oh.”

“We thought you were poisoned,” he added solemnly, shifting in his seat. “Specifically, we thought your food was poisoned.” 

A shiver ran down your spine as Simon's words settled in. Poisoned? It was a disconcerting thought, even in your fevered state. “Poisoned?” you repeated, your voice filled with confusion and worry.

Simon nodded, his eyes locked onto yours. “Yes, there was a moment of panic. But after an examination, it was clear that it wasn't poison. The doctors said you’ve contracted the flu.” 

Relief washed over you at the revelation. The idea of poison had been unsettling, but the flu, while serious, was something that could be managed and treated. You couldn't help but wonder how a simple walk in the snow had led to such a dire situation.

“The flu,” you mumbled, still feeling disoriented.

Simon's grip on your hand tightened, and he offered a reassuring smile. “Yes, the palace doctors have been attending to you. They said that you’ll make a full recovery in a week or so.”

You’re both quiet for a moment.

“I feel like it's fair to mention that there may still be talk that you’ve been poisoned, but we’re currently trying to quell the rumors.”

You let out a weak sigh and nodded.

“Thank you, Simon,” you whispered, feeling grateful for his presence and care. It was sweet, seeing him like this. Genuinely concerned. Caring. Thoughtful. It warmed your heart. 

Just then, the palace doctor entered the room, carrying an assortment of remedies and a concerned expression. They began to examine you, asking questions about your symptoms and carefully checking your vitals. 

As the days went by, you remained in Simon’s chambers, isolated to give you privacy and much needed rest and quiet. Every night, he would leave, off to sleep in a different room. During this time, you spent countless hours talking to Simon.  

“Are you sure I can stay here?”

“I’m quite sure.”

“I– I’ve taken over your whole room, though,” you try to argue. You feel bad for monopolizing Simon’s quarters, especially whilst being sick. You shift under the blankets and cushions. 

“If I didn’t want you in my room, I wouldn’t have carried you here myself.” His voice held a tone of finality. 

During this time, you spent countless hours talking to Simon, strengthening the growing bond between you two. His loyalty and devotion had been unwavering throughout this ordeal, and you couldn't help but start to feel like your connection to him was strengthening.

“I brought you some books,” he says one day, carrying a stack of books in his arms. 

You immediately perk up, pushing yourself up your pillows. 

“So sweet of you,” you praise, clapping your hands with a smile.

He blushes slightly. “I think you’ll like these,” he says, setting the books down on the bedside table. You eagerly scan the titles and covers. It was clear that he had put a lot of thought into selecting them for you. 

“You really knew which ones I would like,” you said, genuinely touched by his considerate gesture.

Simon smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting genuinity. “I've been paying attention,” he replied softly.

You smile at his words, appreciation running through you.

More days passed, and the doctors administered treatments and provided you with nourishing soups and herbal remedies. Slowly, but surely, your strength began to return, and the flu loosened its grip on your body.

“I’m finally starting to feel better, Simon,” you said one morning, pushing the covers off your body. 

“That’s good,” he nods. “Very good.” 

You push yourself off the bed, standing in front of him for a moment. 

“Hey– are you sure you’re okay to stand–?” 

You flashed Simon a reassuring smile as you stood on your own two feet, feeling a sense of triumph over the illness that had kept you confined to his bed for what felt like an eternity.

“I'm sure,” you replied confidently, though your legs wobbled slightly under the weight of your hardly used legs. “I've been itching to get up and move around for so long now.”

Simon, still concerned, extended his arm toward you. “Just in case,” he said, offering you support. Gratefully, you accepted his arm.

With a sudden burst of confidence, you gently pull Simon to stand in front of you. His brows furrowed in confusion. However, before he could voice his curiosity, you wrapped your arms tightly around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Simon's initial confusion melted away as you pulled him into your embrace. His arms soon encircled you in return, and you both held each other close. It was a hug filled with unspoken words, a silent confirmation of the connection that had developed between you when you were sick.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you whisper, pressing your cheek against his chest.

Simon's arms tightened around you, and he rested his chin on top of your head. 

“It’s not something I would ever think twice about,” he replies, voice warm.

You look up at him. 

“I appreciate that, I really do. I would do the same for you,” you say quietly, running your hand up and down his back. 

Simon smiles down at you, his eyes filled with affection. “I know you would,” he says softly, his thumb gently stroking your back.

You nod, your heart feeling lighter.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[tournesoleil13]

[iloveacronix]

This came out a bit too good I think some very very good artist posessed me and made this. WHAT THE HELL IS A DETAILED BACKGROUND🔥🔥

@yourlocalkitkat

[blighted-lights]

byline,,,,,

[luvcvlt]

[akaruiakiki]

My wife is winking...I love my wife

[sunsguilt]

hello lovely! since vil is your favorite character, can i request some vil hcs similar to the other ones? he's not really 'pathetic little man' material, but i wanna see what you do with him 00

have a nice day <3

SO IF YOU NEED A HERO... OR A BOYFRIEND...┊ft: vil schoenheit

warnings: none! contains : gn! reader

notes: if vil showed up while i was literally at the altar abt to say my vows i would dip so fast its not what it looks like babe ur th only one 4 me it was never that serious (this took a while, sorry guys i went silly)

everyone who says vil is pure evil and would treat u like shit, you are all lying to yourself. he is literally my babygirl. argue with the wall.

vil schoenheit would fall for someone, fall hard, then want to die because why did he have to fall in love with you? like international superstar vil falls head over heels for an absurdly average person who they see in classes occasionally??? he doesn't know either.

he is striving to become the most perfect version of himself, just to have your attention.

and you're. not perfect. nowhere near what vil initially assumed would be his standards for a partner before you. maybe you sleep in class and you're scraping by with a barely passing grade.

he's gonna make it his goal to "fix" you. you're not irredeemably evil but he'll make it his job anyway.

(not that you guys need fixing! failing your classes is a hot bitch move but he is doing this bc he wants the best for you!)

this is going to serve as an excuse to be closer to you and allow him to tutor you. he won't bullshit it either, he takes it seriously.

moving on to the topic of nicknames, he usually just says your name. when he first meets you, he'll call you spudling. calling someone a potato is cringe; it's his only flaw.

he'll say "my dear" just as a general affectionate term. when he's annoyed at something or someone, he'll be calling you "sweetheart". his tone gets sickly sweet and you know he's mad at something.

but honestly, flashy nicknames just aren't his style. it's more of a rook thing to be like "my darling, my love" etc etc. vil would be mortified if he had to call you that, even as a joke.

vil vague posts about you. it's probably the most human vil looks in front of his fans. even vil schoenheit has someone they pine over? incredible for the self-esteem.

he's posting a photodump with a caption like: "i never know what to think about. i think about you." or "with them today."

you're probably vaguely aware of vil's social media presence, not really paying it any mind. it's awkward to cyberstalk a classmate, much less a friend.

since he doesn't tag you, you never really know about the posts and the wreckage that comes after vil happens to post a random photo of him holding your hand across the desk in an insta story.

vil wants his confession with you to be perfect, like it has to be. he agonizes it for a long time, rook occasionally dropping huge hints to you, much to his dismay.

he really is just scared of rejection. you denying him would honestly shatter him into a million pieces.

he'll take it slow, he'd never try to rush it with you. with time, he'll tell you his carefully guarded feelings, and it will be perfect.

— ☆

[animaybi]

[alt-toast]

THE NEW JJK ILLUSTRATION??

[domesticated-feral]

Jackson Whittemore wanted full control. Jackson Whittemore wanted to overachieve. Jackson Whittemore needed to be the center of attention. Jackson Whittemore starts to look like he's dying. Jackson Whittemore is still the same. Jackson Whittemore becomes stripped of his agency for hours at a time. Jackson Whittemore loses time in his day, multiple times. Jackson Whittemore is used as a puppet. A pawn. Controlled to do someone else's bidding. Jackson Whittemore wakes up with blood on his hands that's not his. Jackson Whittemore sees the scales on his body form for the first time. Jackson Whittemore kills himself to save everyone else. Jackson Whittemore never fully becomes what he wanted in the first place. Jackson Whittemore will never be the same.

[gomzdrawfr]

up to no good (cooking angst)