#they're so sweet i'm going to cry

[arthursfuckinghat]

"Alright, let's go get that picture taken, if it means that much to you."

"It does.. today it does."

[cerealbishh]

"You really care about me."

"Yeah. I really, really care about you."

"I- I really care about you too."

"No, but... I like, really, really care about you."

[nolan-chance]

Commissioned @woofyway this sweet sweet DiamondChance 🥹💕 Every time I look at it makes me smile like dumb ✨

[flicc]

hey tumblr have some cute men

also thank you @smilebug for the idea they are so precious.. mmm :’)

[agentark]

whatever you do, don't imagine a young J Corvin waiting every day at the end of their drive, hoping today is the day the mail carrier finally brings a letter from their very best friend

[starmocha]

An art piece is only priceless to those who appreciate it for what it is at its core. Aaand you're giving me the shells we picked up during our daily walks. They've been with us through every sunset when the waves touched our feet, and when the breeze danced around us. Some even witnessed the moments we treasure the most. So of course I should give you a painting that is on par with their worth.

— Rafayel, Priceless Treasure

[lemonsiskull]

Dreamy sigh... Sleepy slowdancing in the morning

Terrin belongs to @theknifeclown

[sadlynotthevoid]

Og AlbeCale is Stress Baker Prince x Sweet-Toothed Picky Eater Count Son.

Only that the picky eater part is probably only a part taste, a bigger part an act, and other part the fabulous effect of his brain saying that anything tastes like ashes when he feels bad.

(Because my brain also does that and eating sometimes sucks and sweets are the only thing that tastes normal.)

Alberu at some point catches up on this and asks him to join him to eat with him while he does work, or have small private picnics together so he doesn't have to act and because Cale seems happier when he has good company.

[amariemelody]

This morning, how the hell did we have a legit Code Blue during shift change, got 15+ people in & out the room (including me, bringing the saline flushes and gloves), the monitor is still showing asystole (AKA flatline/heartbeat) for this poor old lady even after 3 rounds of chest compressions...

...And you're going to try to walk right on by with your backpack on and car keys in hand? You could only "try" because I know you doubled back and went out on the other side so people wouldn't see you walking out during a Code.

I don't...I get that I now work in a hospital and I'm Going To See Some Shit, but I don't...understand people right now.

I don't understand.

I drove home crying this morning.

[aromanticasterisms]

HUG TECHNOLOGY!!!!!

[arthursfuckinghat]

John and Jack Marston - Shady Belle

[erabundus]

@dualisume &&. said... " have you ever seen snow? around this time of year fontaine always is covered with thick snow -- oh and merry Christmas!"

a  quiet  hum  greets  the  question  —  followed  by  a  nod  that  sees  the  tassels  of  his  kasa  clicking  softly  from  the  movement.  ❝  i  have.  ❞  the  wanderer  says.  more  than  he  truly  CARES  TO,  perhaps.  snezhnaya  is  a  frigid,  unpleasant  memory  that  sits  in  the  back  of  his  skull.  ren  may  sport  a  higher  resistance  to  extreme  temperatures  than  mortals  do  —  yet  that  doesn't  necessarily  mean  he  finds  enduring  them  PLEASANT.  ❝  although,  i've  never  been  around  to  see  how  winter  in  fontaine  measures  up.  ❞

tipping  his  head  back,  bright  eyes  search  the  sky  —  as  if  hunting  for  something  only  he  can  see.  ❝  there's  a  mountain  over  in  mondstadt  where  it  snows  year  round.  ❞   the  wanderer  says,  his  voice  dipping  into  a  gentler  tone.  (  befitting  of  a  storyteller,  weaving  tales  around  a  crackling  campfire.  )  he  can  picture  it  so  clearly,  as  if  his  memory  is  a  pool  of  crystalline  water.  a  mountain  that  looms  —  tall,  tall  enough  that  it  appears  to  scrape  at  the  heavens themselves.  snow  coats  every  peak  and  valley  like  layers  of  thick  icing  sugar  coating  a  fine  dessert.  bones  jut  out  from  the  ground  like  towering  trees.  at  a  distance,  there  is  a  sort  of  BEAUTY  to  it  —  in  the  same  way  witnessing  any  of  the  grandiose  sights  this  world  has  to  offer  is  able  to  invoke  feelings  of  awe.  yet  up  close,  it  couldn't  possibly  be  more  different.  ❝  it's  a  somber  place.  ❞   ren  continues  aloud.  ❝  everything  is  quiet ...  everything  is  still.  it  feels  like  a  massive  grave.  ❞  perhaps  because  it  is  —  at  least  in  this  day  and  age.  even  so,  ❝  somehow, i  can't  bring  myself  to  dislike  it.  ❞

he  isn't  sure  if  somewhere  so  dreary  would  be  to  furina's  liking,  yet  ren  enjoys  any  opportunity  he  gets  to  lose  himself  in  dragonspine.  it's  one  of  his  favorite  places  in  all  of  teyvat  —  if  only  for  the  CLARITY  it  affords  him  and  his  muddled  thoughts.

in  any  case,  the  mention  of  a  certain  holiday  is  enough  to  direct  the  wanderer's  attention  elsewhere.  he  largely  regards  such  celebrations  and  festivals  as  a  strictly  mortal  affair  —  having  lived  through  so  many  of  them  himself,  they gradually  begin  to  lose  their  LUSTER  after  the  first  century  or  two.  (  blending  together  into  an  indecipherable  mess  of  generic  bacchanalia.  )  however,  ren  is  not  so  ignorant  as  to  assume  his  opinion  is  universal.  furina  in  particular  seems  to  have  maintained  a  sense  of  WHIMSY  he  lost  a  very  long  time  ago. he can't quite understand it, but he respects her tenacity nonetheless.  ❝  ...  merry  christmas.  ❞  the  words  feel  clumsy  in  his  mouth,  as  if  he's  unaccustomed  to  speaking  them.  a  hand  suddenly  raises  to  his  chest  —  there's  a  brief  flicker  of  purple  light,  and  then  the  wanderer  is  holding  out  a  package  for  her  to  take.  it's  small,  wrapped  neatly  in  a  plain  brown  paper  and  tied  with  string.  plain,  almost  spartan  decor  that  feels  very  ren.  

within  sits  a  tiny  wooden  box.  its  surface  sports  a  delicately  carved  pattern  —  elegantly  swirling  figures  that  could  easily  be  interpreted  as  the  wind  or  waves.  on  one  side  there  is  a  key,  not  unlike  the  sort  oft  sported  by  children's  toys.  when  wound,  the  MUSIC  BOX  begins  to  emit  a  calming  tune.  ❝  it's  probably  just  a  glorified  paperweight.  ❞   ren  says.  even  so,  he  pointedly  avoids  making  eye  contact  —  as  if  some  small  part  of  him  fears  a  NEGATIVE  reaction.  ❝  ... but  maybe  you'll  be  able  to  find  some  USE  for  it.  who  knows.  ❞

[cactusdodes]

.

[righteousruin]

wait I was joking about the 'nubane is obviously a clone' is that actually what they did LMAO

[suiana]

beo idk where i saw or read this but can you imagine a yandere! husband who would actually go insane if you left/escaped him?

like, actually insane. I'm not talking "ohhh my spouse left me :((( im gonna find them grrr" type of insane.

im talking like mental breakdowns, crying, screaming, actually getting ill, throwing fits and acting like a sick and deranged man because you're not with him anymore.

he's a rich guy, comes from an old money family. so obviously his parents and family all see the state that he's reduced to after his beloved darling left his grasp. and they absolutely hate the way that their son is so miserable right now. that's their son! and how could they let their son suffer? just how can they help?

so they find you on his behalf and bring you back to him.

like, they're sorry you're back here against your will but their son's condition is more important! don't you see? he loves you and you're just... just neglecting him! a good spouse wouldn't do that. you have to be with him. no questions asked.

upon spotting you, their son (who was literally clawing at his arms, nails all bloody) immediately switches moods and perks up. he's no longer the insane man he was just 5 seconds ago. now he's your loving and sweet husband.

his family all sees that, especially his parents, and they make a vow to make sure you never leave him again. i mean, they like you too! you're perfect for their son! why would you ever want to leave? you don't need to leave.

just stay here with them. stay with your husband. after all, he clearly needs you. and what type of spouse would you be if you left him again?

[bi-writes]

i NEED to know how simon would react to his mail order bride getting all pretty one night.... like maybe the night of their wedding... and she's all nervous because she thinks he expects sex and she's so paranoid about offending him or making the wrong noises or just being a nuisance

mail-order bride

simon and mail order bride did not having a wedding; they are married before they meet. have a peek into their first evening together. (18+)

simon laid your suitcase down onto the floor of his bedroom. you look around anxiously, eyeing the bedroom that is supposed to be your own. there's a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, matching dark-wood nightstands on each side. there's one that's clearly being used, a phone charging there and a half-full glass of water.

there's a dresser on the far wall, littered with picture frames and small trinkets, seemingly from other countries. little russian dolls and different fabrics from different places, wooden elephants and small dishes of wonderful patterns. there's a few drawers open there, and when you make your way closer, you can see it's because they're empty. he must've emptied them out for you to use.

there's one picture frame that's face-down. you pick it up to peek at it, and you smile when you look at the picture there. it's simon and a few similarly-looking people. simon is in uniform, face clear of scars. there's an older woman on one side of him, and then on the other side is a little family of three, a sweet couple and a little toddler on the woman's hip. you put it back down facing up before turning back to your suitcase.

you were supposed to just put your pajamas on. simon had been cleaning up the kitchen, and you figure that meant it was time for bed. you rummage through your suitcase, going to reach for your pajamas when you see the little lingerie set you packed.

it still has the tags on it. it's a red pair of lace panties with a matching bra, complete with little crystal bows and lots of detail. you clutch the lace in your hands, looking towards the door. simon doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask you to do something you wouldn't want to do. but you don't know what his expectations might be. you don't know how he intends his wife to behave.

you stand and take the undergarments with you to the bathroom. you change into them, sliding the pieces on and adjusting them until they fit you nicely. you swallow hard as you look in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your body; your tummy, your thighs, over your breasts. you don't know if he'll even like what he sees. you don't know what he expected you to look like, if he got to choose, if he knows what you are underneath and wanted you because of it or in spite of it.

when you come out of the bathroom, simon is rummaging through one of his drawers. when he turns around to face you, he immediately turns back around.

"fuckin' christ--what the fuck are y'doin'?"

you flinch at the bite of his voice. you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, your eyes tearing immediately as you take in his reaction.

"i..." you stutter. "i...i-i thought--"

"you thought wot?" he snaps, and when he turns around to come closer, you panic, taking the straps in shaking hands and starting to pull them down your arms for him. "no, fuck, stop that--"

he puts his hands over yours before your breasts can spill out of the bra. he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head, and you start to cry softly.

"s-simon, i'm sorry--i-i thought--"

"shhh," he shushes you. "just...quiet."

your bottom lip trembles as he takes the lace straps of your bra delicately and brings them back up, smoothing them back onto your shoulders. you close your eyes when he cups your cheeks, big thumbs wiping at your face as he soothes you silently.

when simon emerges in the bathroom, he tries to be subtle as he cups himself through his boxers, sighing deeply as he flicks the light on. he jumps a little as he steps back, the cat sitting on the edge of the sink and staring at him knowingly.

simon gives it the finger before shooing it back outside.