#thank u bestie <3<3<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[roobiedo]

obsessed with him 100% platonically

[ash-and-starlight]

hades atla bisexual simulator

[silly-little-guy-and-co]

saying "omg my wife" and it's a huge cowboy with a tragic past

[pineappical]

one of my absolute favorite friendships in the show is Ted and Keeley and i am sooo bummed out that we barely got more scenes with them... 🥺

[flingza-roller]

RECENT DEVELOPMENT

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

HI i’m personally a crutch user and i love scout with crutches but consider

pyro or engie crutch user(s)

im a big enjoyer of my comfort characters being just like me i hope this is ok 👍

Pyro or Engie crutch users? ❌️

Pyro AND Engie crutch users ✅️

Hopefully these cane personalisations don't look too weird?? I have no idea where I was going with Pyro tbh, I think I was trying to make it a mini lighter but kinda failed miserably :')

Edit: FUCK, YOU SAID CRUTCH NOT CANE I'M SO SORRY I GOT IT MIXED UP

[temeyes]

Every once in a while I check your account and I found out I was never following you

😔💔

nah that's okay bestie, besides,, following me comes with a high price,,

i'm not kidding,, he's stressed,,

[greghatecrimes]

he's such a fucking loser. the girldad ever

[katsu28]

to be alone together

pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

summary: steve has to work on valentine’s day, but maybe it’s not as bad as he thought it would be

warnings: none, 1.8k

a/n: u know i had to do a lil something for my steve girlies too <3 went for a more steve centric pov bc he is the definition of pining simp 

navigation

(gif credits to @harringtondaily)

“Kinda sucks that you gotta work tonight.” Robin’s voice through the phone pressed to Steve’s ear was staticky, but still provided a good distraction from the empty video store around him.

It was Valentine’s Day and Steve had been at Family Video since opening, watching couple after couple come in to pretty much clear the romcom shelves, and yeah, he was a little bummed about it, but there was no point moping around about it any longer than he already had been. 

“It’s whatever, honestly. Not like I had any plans to begin with.” He sighed, shifting the receiver so it was wedged between his cheek and shoulder as his fingers drifted down to fiddle with the pen on the counter absentmindedly. 

“Steve, that’s sad.” Robin replied. Steve wrinkled his nose, a slightly offended noise escaping the back of his throat. “No! I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant that you should be out and about, having a good time.” 

“You know what’s actually sad? You talking to me instead of paying attention to your date.” He shot back, only half serious. “Where’s Nance?” 

“Oh she’s right here. Say hi, Nance.” 

Steve heard a faint ‘hi Steve’ in the background and he returned the greeting. “What are you guys doing tonight?” 

“She made this really fancy pasta thing for dinner, we’re just waiting on the chicken to finish in the oven and I thought I’d see what was going on with you.” Robin sounded casual, but he knew this was her way of checking up on him since he was the only one on shift all day and she knew how he felt about today. 

“Rob, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you, but I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.” 

“Why don’t you just close up early, come join us for dinner? We have more than enough food.” 

“You’re seriously inviting me to crash your romantic dinner date with your girlfriend?” He snorted, rolling his eyes playfully. “What does Nancy think of that?” 

There was some shuffling on the other end, a bout of silence, then Robin was back on the line. “She’s giving me a weird look, nevermind. Now that I think about it, it wasn’t my best idea.” 

“I love you both, but you know I can’t.” 

The bell above the door jingled softly, drawing Steve’s attention away from his phone call and to whoever just walked in. 

Shit. It was you. 

You were dressed like you were supposed to be on your date, not here, hair and makeup done up all pretty, floaty dress in his favorite color swishing around your knees as you made your way into the store. It made him wonder if you chose that color on purpose, but he knew that you didn’t. You couldn’t have known you’d be seeing him tonight. Wishful thinking on his end though. 

“Rob, I gotta go,” He blurted, straightening up behind the counter. 

“Wait, what—” 

“I gotta go, she’s—someone’s here, I gotta help her.” 

“She? Oh my god, wait! Is it—” 

“Have a nice date, tell Nance I said bye!” With that, Steve hung up, slamming the receiver onto the base with enough force to send it skittering a few inches. “Hey, Y/N.” 

“Steve!” Your previously downturned lips lifted into a smile, one that had Steve’s heart thudding a little faster in his chest. It always did. “I didn’t know you were working tonight.” 

See, you were also part of the reason he decided to take the extra shift today, but through no fault of your own. You’d mentioned earlier in the week while you were hanging out with him and Robin that someone had asked you out for tonight, and Steve didn’t really know how to feel about it. 

You were friends, but had Steve been harboring a crush on you since pretty much the first day you met? Yes. 

Did he feel an itching sense of jealousy that you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him? Also yes. 

Would he do anything about it? Probably not. 

Okay, so maybe he knew exactly how he felt about it. Hell, he’d picked up an extra shift to distract himself from it. 

“Yeah, I got called in last minute." A lie. "Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” A casual, not at all hoping that it crashed and burned question. That would be mean. (But also a little gratifying for him.)

You chuckled, a tad bitter as you leaned forward, propping your elbows on the counter, the action sending a whiff of your perfume his way. Steve’s knees almost gave out. “Supposed to, yeah. But the guy never showed up.” 

Steve had to fight a noise of surprise. What kind of dumbass would skip out on a date with you? “Really? That’s—that sucks, I’m sorry.” 

“S’okay. Wasn’t really looking forward to it anyways.” 

“Oh?” 

“I didn’t really know him that well, honestly. He was a friend of a friend, asked me out in front of a bunch of people, and I didn’t really wanna turn him down and make it awkward.” 

“You’re way too nice, Y/N. And he’s an idiot for standing you up.” 

“Thanks, Steve.” You smiled warmly at him, patting his hand. Steve had to pretend his pulse wasn’t racing right now. “What about you? Why’re you here and not out with anyone?” 

“I, uh—I didn’t really feel like going out tonight. Don’t think I’d be a very good date anyways.”

“Oh, you’re just being modest. What girl wouldn’t wanna spend Valentine’s Day with Steve Harrington?” 

The one girl he wanted to spend this day with, he thought. You. 

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered. 

“Well then they’re idiots too.” 

A small smile quirked his lips. “Thanks.” 

“Hey, I just came to pick up some movies and spend the rest of my night shoveling down ice cream, but since we’re both here now and alone, d’you wanna…be alone together? Grab a bite to eat or do something?” 

Steve’s shoulders slumped defeatedly. “I’d love to, but I—I can’t. I gotta stay here til the end of my shift, Keith’s been on my ass about taking off early and as much as I hate the guy, I don’t wanna get fired.” 

“Oh, okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m, uh—it’s cool.” Was he hallucinating, or did you look disappointed? 

“Would you maybe wanna, I dunno, stay here? We can watch whatever you want and I know where Robin keeps her work snack stash. That way we can be alone together and I don’t get chewed out again?” Steve blurted hopefully. He was honestly expecting you to say no. Why would you wanna spend the rest of your already shitty night with him in a dingy video store? But then your face split into the biggest smile and you nodded, rocking forward on the balls of your feet earnestly. “Go pick something out, I’ll grab the snacks.” 

You scurried off to browse the near bare shelves, leaving Steve shaking his head amusedly in your wake as he watched you skim the tapes with a look of utmost concentration. He slipped into the back room to grab Robin’s last unopened bag of chips, making a mental note to buy more before tomorrow’s shift before returning to the video area.

He skimmed the store, spotting you in the romcom section, and when he made his way over, you were contemplating the last two tapes on the shelf. 

You beamed at him upon spotting him. “Pretty in Pink or Sixteen Candles?” 

“Am I allowed to say neither?” 

“You said whatever I want, Steve.” You said pointedly, propping your hands on your hips. 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. You let out a hum of pleasure, sliding your chosen movie off the shelf and wandering towards the TV in the corner. Steve hurried after you quickly, plucking the tape from between your fingertips and running away, not unlike a child would. 

“Steve!” You huffed, whirling on your heel. He grinned mischievously at you, waving it in the air like a taunt. You caught up with him within seconds, lunging for the tape that he held up above his head and away from your outstretched hand. Your body was pressed against his as you reached for it, as you leaned against him in a fruitless attempt to overpower him. “Steve, gimme the tape!” 

“No!” He laughed, but that laughter very soon trickled off as soon as he realized your proximity. You were so close, he could see the color of your eyes clear as day, looking right back at him. You’d fallen quiet too, as if you’d come to the same realization. 

You were nose to nose, faces a hair’s breadth away from each other, the stolen tape in Steve’s hands long forgotten. Every fiber in his body was telling him to pull away, because the longer he stayed here the weirder it would be when he finally did manage to retreat, but no matter how hard he willed himself to move, he couldn’t. Instead, his eyes flicked down to your lips. Your breath hitched almost imperceptibly. 

“Steve?” You whispered, gaze darting around his own face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Kiss me.” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice.

Steve dropped the tape immediately, closing the gap between you and pressing his lips against yours. His hands came up to cup your face, holding you firm but kissing you soft, like he was preparing himself to pull away if you did. But from the way you were returning his kiss, how your hands clutched at the front of his vest to keep him this close, it didn’t feel like you’d be pulling away anytime soon, and that spurred him on even more. 

One hand slid down to settle at your waist, the other curling around the back of your neck as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just a little bit. 

Steve’s lips felt tingly when he pulled away, tasted of your cherry lip gloss when his tongue darted out to lick them. He was sure to have a little bit on his mouth now, but it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Not by a long shot. Cherry might’ve just become his new favorite flavor. 

“I really like you.” He breathed, chest heaving against yours. Your lips curved into a soft smile—the same smile that nearly sent Steve’s brain short circuiting every time it was aimed his way. 

“After that kiss, I’d sure hope so,” You replied, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt as best you could. “I like you too, just so you know. Part of the reason I was so okay with my date ditching me. He wasn’t you.” 

Steve could only beam at you, going in for another kiss. In his excitement, he missed his mark, hitting the corner of your mouth instead, but he didn’t care. The girl he wanted all along actually liked him back, and it only took one failed date and an extra shift to find out. 

Maybe working on Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

[fatuismooches]

Sobbing rn I just got hit with the cutest hurt/comfort idea for fragile!reader and Dottore

(The hurt in this instance is just fragile!reader's self deprecating inner monologue 😭)

What if reader was the sort who fussed over their appearance a lot? In the Akademiya they wouldn't be caught dead with dark circles under their eyes or having their hair messy.

Even if they did pull all nighters for a project, they always found time to put just a little bit of make-up on to lighten up their eyebags, and always had a simple yet neat hairstyle in mind in times they're in a rush.

They might be perishing from all the studies and assignments but they're going to look good doing it!

This made Reader and Zandik an even odder pair in the Akademiya. Reader who is always neat and in style, versus Zandik who just spent the whole night taking apart a ruin guard somewhere in Avidya Forest until the sun rose and he showed up as is.

That was one of the features Zandik found 'annoying' about Reader before they got together. Like - ugh they're so bubbly and energetic! They're running around everywhere and they're so chatty! Them with their— nice hair! And— pretty eyes, and those robes that actually fit them as if they were tailored! How pretentious of them— (he was down bad. Bro was coping with anger to bat away the feels)

But of course, that was all in the past. In the present, Reader can't take care of their appearance anymore. They couldn't even pick up a hairbrush, their joints ached horribly, they don't have the strength to hold something so light, they don't have the energy to do the basic care of untangling the strands of hair either.

They can't stand looking at their own reflection. That sense of 'wrongness' they couldn't fix, what they couldn't hide. How desperately they wanted to put just a little bit of blush at least, to give their skin some life with how sickeningly pale it was, no longer warm and saturated as it used to be.

They can't look at their eyes either. The greying, sagging bags beneath their lids was a taunt. No amount of sleep would get rid of them.

They can't wear outfits that were too elaborate. Their temperature fluctuated too much, a deathly cold beneath their skin, then a sudden spike in heat as if they were being scorched by the desert sun. They have to wear basic garments, comfortable without hindering layers to slow down their daily check-ups.

Reader is thankful for the segments caring for them, they really are. A segment brushing their hair while talking to them is a highlight of their day.

But... it wasn't the same.

Of course it wouldn't be, the segments were carers, nor stylists.

Still, the fact that they had no control over their appearance and presentation had their mental state withering.

Dottore noticed this. How withdrawn his dear had become. They had their days of silence, yes... but this was more sombre than usual.

He concludes that their illness was flaring up again, and that they were masking their pain instead of consulting with him. He comes to their room of course, his current duties be damned (not that he could've been productive even if he had wanted to, the Segments were restless and shrinking away from their tasks, their darling's current disposition bothered them.)

Opening the door slightly to enter, he sees them blankly staring at their reflection, prodding a finger on their prominent eyebags, rubbing their cheek to see if it would redden.

Ah... how could he had forgotten that. They were once very particular of how they looked. He should have known this possibility, witnessing their own sickly reflection would be distressing...

[The Crow visits a certain Dove. Despite how stiff and vague the Doctor had been with his words, the Damsalette only tittered in understanding, and imparted the knowledge he was seeking.]

The next day, Reader is sat on their vanity, waiting for a Segment to tend to them (always with a little bit of struggle to walk in the morning, but it's the least they could do to be less of an inconvenience already.)

The minutes tick by... he's late. Did something happen?

More time goes by, and they become more worried. They were about to get up and search before the door creaks open.

Zandik...? And he's carrying a... why does he have a bag?

They have plenty of questions. Why the late arrival? What was in the bag? Why was Zandik himself here?

Before they could ask all of this, however, he sets the small bag down on the vanity. He riffles through it... are those make-up brushes?

Wait, make-up?

The next half-hour was spent in stunned silence for Reader's part, Zandik was silent as well out of careful concentration. Gently applying everything, his touch on the brush strokes and blending soft... applying gloss on their lips.

Once Zandik moves on to their hair, they finally catch a glimpse of their reflection. Their cheeks were rosey, the dark circles under their eyes concealed, their lips no longer appearing dry, and instead plump and shimmering.

Oh.

... they almost looked like the way they were before their illness.

Almost.

But it was enough.

(Reader tries so hard not to cry. Fighting back tears, not wanting to ruin the make-up Zandik so diligently applied. Once Zandik was finished with their hair... they may have hiccuped a little bit.)

They may no longer have that upbeat energy they once boasted... but it was comforting to see their old reflection once again. It had been far too long.

You know, I really love this ask because my whole life I've pretty much never used make-up even though I want to so having Dottie do it for me heals me a bit. Also, I'm not very knowledgeable on it so apologies if anything is wrong. Okay, I'm done. 🤏

In all honesty, Dottore was never one to care much for outward looks but he has to admit that you still always manage to look good despite all of the work from school plus all of the work you help with for his experiments, plus... literally everything life throws at you. Yet you still bounce back like it was nothing. The scholar still had not discovered your secret to this yet despite observing you for so long, which furthered his interest in you even though he didn't admit it.

Zandik did maintain his appearance, to an extent of course as he didn't go out of his way to look great, but nothing compared to the effort you put in. So while he did look presentable most of the time, there have been quite a few times you made him late to class because there was no way you were going to let him out looking like that. You don't regret it, even when you get weird looks from the other students. Being 'odd' with your equally as odd lover was nothing to worry about, in your humble opinion.

Although Zandik couldn't hope to understand your strange nature, always mumbling under his breath about you while you laughed at his comments, he also couldn't help but enjoy being around you. You kept him on his toes (your words, not his.)

Unfortunately, this nature and style of yours gradually dissipated into nothing when your illness struck. At first, you refused to accept it, pushing yourself to do what you usually did but soon enough you realized that it simply wasn't going to work out. You had all these tools and resources and options in front of you but you couldn't use them anymore. The self-consciousness only grew more and more each day as you struggled to see yourself as beautiful - struggled to see yourself as a person Dottore would find beautiful.

Of course, your gratitude to the segments couldn't be properly expressed or put into words. You quite literally wouldn't be here without them. However, it is still incredibly demoralizing to be unable to do what you once loved. You really did love them, but... it wasn't enough.

Dottore, despite spending much time in his lab or elsewhere, still kept tabs on you of course. Not just as your doctor, but as your lover, it was important. He had seen you at your lowest numerous times before, comforting you through the worst moments, and he was angered - not at you of course, but rather at himself for being unable to do anything that would be enough for you. Yet he continued, even when you hid yourself from him.

This time, however, maybe the scientist could do a bit more. He doesn't particularly... approve of the Third, or your "friend", but she's far more knowledgeable in this area than he'll ever be. Thankfully, she didn't tease him too much, knowing of your current state.

Dottore had never been one to take much interest in your make-up or style, preferring to simply watch as you worked your magic. So seeing him walk in with make-up makes you think you're still dreaming. (You remember laughing at his segment's various fashion tastes when you woke up though.)

The questions die on your lips the moment he lays everything out and the soft brush tickles your face, not to mention how he's obviously inexperienced yet he's still doing a good job. A part of you aren't surprised because of course he'd be skilled at most things, but still, you thought Celestia would sooner fall on Teyvat than Dottore do your make-up for you. Slowly, you watch as he transforms your face into something that was once dearly familiar.

It's not the same. It may never be. But it's more than enough for you, to revisit the old days that you loved so much. You fear you may cry full-on if you speak, so a simple kiss on your husband's face will have to do.

But regardless of what you look like, no matter how much your body and looks will change, Zandik will always view you as the most beautiful creation on this planet.

[fumifooms]

thanks for infecting me with marchil its so so fun to just see them pair themselves up in the background now

especially love how much she picks him up like a cat (and when he has the opportunity to do it to her too he just lugs her around like a sack of oats) gosh i love them they're so funny

YAAAAAA 🎉🎉 I’m so glad to hear it welcome to the sillies corner 🤝

THEY’RE SOOO SO FUNNY

They’re worsties that cannot get enough of each other

[infamous-if]

Amy I want to be ur bestie can you like insert yourself into Infamous as a bartender or BOTB staff member or something so I can befriend u that way

lololol If I was ever going to insert myself in the story it would be ala Frankie Avalon in Grease when he sang Beauty School Dropout....

aka a heavenly hallucination that ends in song and dance while I sing about MC's failures lsndhadcsajczncds

[saintbleeding]

Hii~

So i saw this on a tumblr post but is very jonmartin

"Jon and Martin are planning their wedding, they want to have their cat as ring bearer (is this how it's called?) But Martin doesn't know the name of the cat because they always call it different nicknames and jon just doesn't tell him and he don't want to admit that after all that years don't know.

Because jon didn't know either! he thinks that the cat is Martin's and he also is trying to figure out the name."

Martin’s not a cat person.

Honestly, he’s just not really an animal person. Like, in general.

The same isn’t true for Jon, of course. On, like, their second date, Jon—who, up until that point, had been all leather elbow patches on his stupid tweed jackets and “hmm, perhaps” and thoughtful squinting—got approached by a cat in the street, and pretty much melted on the spot.

Martin melted, too, but for slightly different reasons.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Jon moved in and Cat started turning up. Sure, it felt a little bit out of character for Jon not to excitedly announce that, one, he'd gotten a pet cat really recently, and, two, he was bringing it into Martin's place, which is a relatively humble little cottage, but Cat seems to free-roam most of the time, so it's not like she's encroaching on much of the space. And, anyway, it's not like Martin hates cats, so he doesn't mind. He just sort of thought Jon would have said something. But he didn't.

So.

You know.

There's a cat.

She's grown on Martin over time. In fact, it's usually him that wakes up with her purring and headbutting him at fuck-off o'clock in the morning, and Jon's not a heavy sleeper, so if she'd attacked him first, Martin would know.

But she's nice. Lovely little tufts of fur between her toes, and quite a deep meow for such a pretty lady. He'll call her Lady Catherine sometimes, and Jon's got the gall to pretend he doesn't think it's hilarious. Mind you, Jon's terms of endearment for her skew a bit more—pejorative, for lack of a better term? Like, Cat will take the opportunity when Jon is hunched over a stack of student essays at the dining table, and she'll leap onto his shoulders, and do that loaf thing, and Jon always says "unhand me, you infernal creature", or the few times she has bothered Jon in the middle of the night for pre-dawn breakfast service, he's grumbled "vile beast" even as he gets up to feed her.

Martin's tried telling him he shouldn't be encouraging her. But Jon just turns around and says "yes, I know, that's why I chastise her".

Martin stays impressed that someone so smart can be so stupid. Which he means affectionately, obviously. If he didn't, they wouldn't be getting married.

Which is great, by the way. It's great.

Does present some—unique problems, though.

Martin's got absolutely no bloody clue what her actual name is.

Which, you know, it's not like he's filling out adoption papers or anything, but at some point after some late-night banter it became part of the plan that Cat should be the ring-bearer at the wedding.

And he can't not know the name of a member of the party at his own wedding.

So he starts sleuthing.

"Hey," he says one evening, when GBBO is over and they're just sitting there with the telly on mute.

Jon looks up from his thorough inspection of Cat's beans, her paw gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger, and goes "Mm?"

"Been thinking."

Jon lifts one eyebrow. "Mm?"

"We could get her a proper little collar and everything."

Jon blinks a couple of times, then smiles. "Oh, for the wedding, you mean?" Martin nods. "Oh, yes, it could match your tie."

Okay, that's adorable, but also, unfortunately, not the point.

"Ooh, yeah," he says, then: "Oh! And, like, a little engraved name-tag. Really fancy."

Jon's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he says, tone completely unreadable. "Silver or gold, do you think?"

Martin's suddenly wondering if it's a trap.

"Dunno," he says, turning his eyes back to the brightly-coloured advert on the screen. "What's her vibe, you think?"

In the corner of his eye he sees Jon's jaw working silently as he searches for something to say.

"I think your input should be taken into consideration," he says, lifting his chin as Cat stands, stretches, and headbutts him. "Since... you know."

Martin considers whether or not Jon's messing with him, because frankly, he very much does not know.

"Mmm. Well! Uh- I- I like gold. Would match our bands."

"True enough," Jon says. Cat leaps onto the back of the sofa, and they're both silent till she curls up there and falls back asleep.

Jon doesn't seem very eager to say anything else.

Bugger.

"So..." Martin says, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. "Um... what's the spelling, again?"

Jon's blurry form sits up straighter, and when Martin puts his glasses back on he sees his mouth open in shock.

"Might I ask why you're asking me?" Jon says, which doesn't make any sense.

"W- um. Y- you know, you're the English teacher."

Jon inclines his head to the side, frowning. "Hmm," he goes. "W- I- I- yes, I—mm." He lowers himself back against the sofa again. "The usual way."

Martin sighs.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

The silence gets a bit fraught, then. When Martin stands up to take their mugs to the kitchen, he might be a tiny bit huffy. It's possible.

Jon follows him, and he stays huffy, because it's easier to keep up than neutrality when he's trying to hide that he's a bit annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

"Everything alright?" Jon says, leaning casually against the fridge as Martin puts way too much effort into scrubbing both mugs clean.

"Mm."

Several seconds pass.

"Could I say something?" Jon asks, a bit hesitantly.

If Martin had to guess, he'd put money on "you're a negligent idiot for not paying enough attention to know my cat's name and I hate you".

"Yeah."

Jon exhales audibly behind him, as though amused.

"With all due respect and affection, darling—" He pauses till Martin is finished aggressively rinsing the mugs. Martin still doesn't turn to face him, though, because he's a tiny bit scared of where this is going, honestly. "If you've forgotten how to spell your own cat's name, that's not, strictly speaking, my fault, is it?"

Martin turns around.

Several things occur to him at once.

First, Cat's a dirty freeloader who owes Martin like fourteen months of rent.

Second, it might, legitimately, have been a coincidence that she and Jon moved in around the same time.

Third, he can't remember a time he's heard Jon use any method of address on her except for creature, or beast, or the ones Martin uses himself.

Which means, fourth, Jon doesn't know her bloody name either.

Because she's not his cat.

Well.

"Okay," Martin says. "Let's assume I have forgotten. Couldn't you just—help me out—and spell it?"

"Martin," Jon says disparagingly with a frown.

"Jon," Martin says, trying really hard not to smirk.

Jon does that thing where his mouth starts in a flat line, but as his irritation grows, his nose scrunches up, and the line of his mouth slowly rises up his face until he exclaims inarticulately and throws his hands in the air in defeat.

"Fine!" he says. "Fine, okay, alright, fine. I—I don't—I don't know. I don't know! I meant to ask, but I felt negligent not having known when I moved in, and then, after a month or seven I couldn't very well come out and ask, could I? And then—good heavens, it's been more than a year, there was no subtle way to recover!"

Martin's not laughing at him.

But he is laughing.

Breathlessly, uncontrollably, doubling over—to the point where Jon actually crosses the few steps separating them in the tiny kitchen to place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry," Martin manages eventually, wiping tears from his eyes. "Christ, sorry, I'm just—"

He takes a deep, measured breath.

"I've got to tell you something," he says sheepishly. Jon puts his hands on Martin's shoulders and looks into his face with the earnest sobriety that, even now, gives Martin butterflies.

"Anything," he says, still frowning intensely.

Martin averts his eyes. "She's not my cat either."

When Jon stops laughing, he spends the rest of the evening lecturing Cat in his Not Mad Just Disappointed voice ("identity fraud is an extremely serious matter, young lady, and you are terribly lucky you have such sweet little eyes, or I might be compelled to take legal action against you, please let go of my nose").

Oh, but they do end up getting her an engraved gold name-tag for the ceremony.

It says 'Lady Catherine (Beast)'.

[miusato]

Justgirlsthing is when you kinda have a crush on your close friend or something idk i have no friends at school 🧍‍♀️

Other version undercut :3

I think human Aigis would be alt af but idk I think she would look cute in dresses too lol maybe I should draw that soon ahaha

[deltaruiner]

waugh. sniff. i have the cold and i wanna megucas besties

[duckzz]

3 WITH CIR AND SUNNY!!! (FOR THE PROMPT)

MMM I LIKE HOW U THINK GHESTIE, MY BELOVEDS 🥺💖

prompts <3