#the strange lover

[restingcorpse]

[jvledrn]

In English we say "I miss you" but in the language of poetry we say "A vacant space where once you stood. Your absence, a haunting solitude"

[fukutomichi]

∙ Favorite Trope - Headbutt of Love ∙ Suite Française (2014) ∙ The Old Guard (2020) ∙ Pacific Rim (2013) ∙ Lady Chatterley's Lover (2022) ∙ Interview with the Vampire (2024) ∙ The Rings of Power (2022) ∙ The Legend of Tarzan (2016) ∙ The Punisher (2017) ∙ Captain Marvel (2019) ∙ Fallout (2024) ∙ The Mummy (1999) ∙ Red, White & Royal Blue (2023) ∙ All the Light We Cannot See (2023) ∙ Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) ∙ The English (2022) ∙ Strange Days (1995)

[tsubaki94]

Ectoberhaunt24

Day 13: Isekai: Old Hero, New World

Strange New World Crossover with Lower Decks Crossovered with Danny Phantom. Yeah it's a lot but how could I not do this when the prompt begged for me to do it.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

We could have had it all...

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[markscherz]

I… do not understand tumblr live. Like, are there actually only about 50 people streaming across the whole platform at any one time? And why are so many of them just… people smoking? Or unoccupied desks? And why is nobody talking about frogs?

[fruifruit]

i enjoy the roommate dynamic of resident lover a normal amount

[rottiens]

I need to hear more about your detective sukuna thoughts pls

✮ cw. 18+, implicit violence and sensitive topics, it is implied that the reader is a foreigner, detective au. fun fact; toji is sukuna's boss in this au just because I want him to :3 | divider creds: cafekitsune.

Sukuna has a reputation for corruption, always finding excuses to shoot, harm witnesses and, of course, use handcuffs. His methods are not always orthodox, but they always pay off. That's why his boss usually turns a blind eye when Sukuna is in charge of a case, giving him the necessary immunity and resources he requests.

Murders, robberies, arms trafficking: these are just some of the cases the great Sukuna has worked on, finding solutions over a ten-year career, with all of those cases now closed… except one.

The surprise death of the president of one of Tokyo's most important companies shocked the country, filling the newspapers and front pages for months. The case was closed as a suicide, but Sukuna knew there was more to it, especially when his superiors insisted that there was nothing more to investigate and that he should no longer stick his nose where it was not called. That only made him, of course, more determined to probe where he was not called.

He has been working "undercover" for the past few weeks, though not under orders from his superiors, but under his own rules. Investigating witnesses, collecting documents, sniffing out clues like a bloodhound, and among all those things, there's always one thing in common: you.

He has been watching you. You charge and pass each object through the scanner with a neutral face and steady hands. You look like an expert in the field. The tag on your uniform says "Aiko," clearly a fake name. Sukuna had seen your name on the report now lying under his mattress. He knows your real name, age, hometown but that's all he could collect, no college record, a family to pursue, an ex-partner or any other previous job. The president's personal assistant with a blank background, living in one of the most humble areas of the city, far from magazines, newspapers, camera lenses….

Sukuna places the pack of cigarettes on the counter with more force than necessary just as the store bell chimes. It's just the two of you now.

"Just that?" you ask without looking at him. Sukuna searches your eyes silently until you hold his gaze. Exhausted eyes, painted the black of your dark circles under your eyes.

How long have you not slept? What is keeping you awake? The questions make him bite his lip, restraining himself from pulling out his notebook and starting the interrogation right there, curiosity eating him alive from the inside but he knows you still need one more push to go down. He finally gives in, shakes his head in affirmation and you tell him the price, the same one you've given him for the past few weeks with the same lifeless countenance as always.

Sukuna pulls his wallet out of his leather jacket, showing you a flash of his badge glowing in the darkness of his clothes. Sukuna sees you tense up behind the counter. You pick up your hands and hide them where he can't see them. He slides a wad of bills onto the wood along with a white card with his phone number and name in plain black letters.

You shake your head before he has a chance to say anything.

"I just want to talk," he says, still, his voice a little hoarse.

"I don't have anything to talk to you about." Your accent is good, but he can easily tell you're not from here.

"I just want to buy you a coffee."

Sukuna leans back on the counter, holding his jaw with his open hand as he examines you up and down. You lean back in the chair, almost as if you think he's going to grab you and force you to stay still. You are visibly trembling, and it all makes his adrenaline rush through his veins, he is drooling, his eyes slightly wide at the prey in front of him. What are you hiding, what do you know?

"Can you leave now?"

Sukuna realizes how easy it would be to handcuff you at this point. With a little effort, he'd leap over the counter, mount you on his broad shoulders, and haul you out the door to throw you in his truck. However, remember that it's Monday, the flow of people is higher at the beginning of the week, and it would be a hassle to have to shoot another civilian.

Sukuna stretches as he groans; all the imagination of the scene has exhausted him. So he runs a hand through his hair and shoves the cigarette box into his back pockets.

"Call me if you're bored. I promise it will be worth it," he comments with a smile that makes you visibly uncomfortable.

Then he walks towards the exit and, with a creak of the bell, the cold snowflakes that his stale presence brought to the place begin to fall on your head and arms, covered by the thin uniform shirt, making you shiver even more, causing your fingers and lips to become like ice cubes with the winter that the infamous detective leaves behind.

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[honeymilkbubbletea]

🦋 your actions have consequences 🦋

Fellas, is it gay to sacrifice a whole ass town for a boy??? Asking for a friend...

Never drew this ship before, but they are very Chloe & Max coded to me~

[restingcorpse]

[to-rise-above-monsters]

why did isayama put his whole pussy into yumihisu after saying he can’t write romance. and then fumble when it came to the straights.

[dathen]

They had been alarmed enough by all the shouting and banging, but when they held up their candles and found that its author was a wild-eyed, cutthroat-looking person with a slit in his face and his shirt all bloody, they were not in the least reassured.

Goes feral over this description of Childermass

There was a queer insubstantiality about him. He looked as if he were painted on air. The merest draught from a gap in the casement took his hair and made little corkscrews and curlicues of it, as if it weighed nothing at all.

Goes EVEN MORE feral over this description of Segundus

I think the delicate wilting flower of a swooning pre-victorian gentleman and the rugged, frightening castaway all over with blood should KISS

[nyxi-pixie]

hello average tumblr user. in front of you is a femslash rarepair. your challenge is to not start psychoanalysing its fans and saying they only pretend to like it to score social points, not depart from your 'shipping is for fun people can do what they want' view of mlm rarepairs, and not start randomly commenting on posts about them how you actually prefer those female characters with men who are or are not important to their characters. Live or die. Go.

[autumnsunshine10]

Cherry on Top

Ocean between head and heart

Bermuda Triangle says hi

Nimbostratus on the horizon

I floss my smile while being tossed

Amid the surf's soothing sussurus

Lulled to dream and find myself

Lost in a paradise made for two

I become the cherry on top

Moonlight lambada

Keeping perfect time

Strange magic through line

[bi-dykes]

I just think that best friends to lovers