#this boy gets me so soft

[suntails]

toot toot!

[sonseulsoleil]

Ghosts don't sleep. They don't even really get tired. At least, not tired in the way sleep would fix. When Charles first dies, he attempts to sleep, but he never can manage it. No matter how many nights he tries. Eventually he gives up.

But he never gives up asking Edwin to read to him at night. Edwin's voice as he reads is warm and steady. Comforting, even. Charles may be dead at sixteen, but he isn't alone. He thinks his best chance at falling asleep is if Edwin is there to read him a bedtime story.

It's probably silly. But Edwin doesn't seem to mind.

Edwin reads him mostly detective stories at first. Sherlock Holmes, anything by Agatha Christie, Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys, of course—which is where they get the idea for the agency in the first place. But Edwin loves books of all sorts, so it isn't long before he's branching out into other genres.

Usually it's old books. Books from before Edwin was even alive. Books Charles would've avoid reading in school. Pride and Prejudice. Frankenstein. Jane Eyre. Oliver Twist. Somehow hearing them in Edwin's voice makes them much more tolerable.

And some are fun. Treasure Island is one Charles finds himself requesting over and over again. He always liked pirates. Lord of the Rings is another favorite, although maybe Charles is just excited that Edwin finally found a book that was published after he died.

Niko introduces Edwin to much newer literature. Teen romance novels with bright covers and cutesy, wordplay titles. Edwin even reads some of the books about boys kissing boys. An adorable, pink blush creeps across his cheeks every time still, but he's getting more comfortable.

Ghosts don't sleep, or even get tired. But Charles thinks he almost gets drowsy sometimes, late at night, when their living friends are sleeping, and he is curled safely and comfortably into Edwin, listening to him read.

[queerdraws]

projecting on luffy again. get bited.

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Kinda want to write a Spock POV post-fal-tor-pan fic where Spock sees Jim and is instantly whammed with the fact that he's in love with him, but still has no idea why or what that means, so he just goes around with a knot of love tangled in his mind, utterly baffled as to why it's there or how to figure it out. He can't ask the kolinahr adepts, because it feels un-vulcan, so instead he's just. confusedly pining the entire time.

Jim smiles sappily at him and Spock's like "My Heart Is Beating Faster. Why Is My Heart Beating Faster. There Is No Cause For My Heart To Be Beating Faster. Do I Have Tachycardia."

Spock, to McCoy: Doctor, is there history of heart disease in my family?

Bones, suspicious: Yes? Why? (already surreptitiously scanning Spock w/ a tricorder)

Spock: I have noticed concerning irregularities in my heart beat. They occur primarily around Admiral Kirk.

Bones, freezing: Repeat that for me, Spock?

Spock: I have noti-

Bones: No, not that, the next bit! Where they happen!

Spock: Ah. Around Admiral Kirk.

[FIVE MINUTES LATER]

Spock, annoyed: Doctor, cease laughing. I fail to understand what part of my medical condition you find so amusing.

Bones, still wheezing with laughter: Don't - don't you worry your little head about it, Spock. You're not sick, that's the important thing. (interrupts himself by laughing again) You'll (wheeze) figure it out eventually.

(Spock, disgruntled, gives up on him and leaves.)

(McCoy keeps laughing for another ten minutes.)

[mblue-art]

BAD SANSUARY // [14] tears for owl-bones's event !

"...Killer, it just looks like I have running mascara."

"it's such a look though."

messy kisses and post-nuzzles

[somnimagus]

My page for @destinytriofanzine! I drew something about kids always dreaming of far off places

[id in alt!]

[essektheylyss]

Genuinely, I just cannot comprehend anyone saying that Laerryn vs Essek in a duel would be an even fight.

Laerryn is a con wizard with the Tough feat, mechanically, just to START. She will kill a sitting politician at a moment's notice without worry. She's maybe the most overfunded wizard in history. Essek is a dex wizard who almost got taken out by a pair of magic sleep handcuffs. He defaults to utility caster. And, while both of them will become unhinged if the person they love is threatened in anyway, Laerryn will straight up take down the world in the process and Essek is just as likely to physically drag Caleb out of the fight instead of retaliating.

I'm sorry, but there is literally no contest here. Essek would be a very pretty stain on the ground in seconds. God forbid women do anything.

[sophsun1]

#Tommy's face being 🥺 when buck is praising him and admitting he just wanted to get closer to him.

[blushes-and-gropes]

Thinking about taking a cute subby boy on a picnic . Having him all curled up against me as we sit under a tree on a soft blanket, the sun shining and the birds chirping on a sweet summer afternoon. I would feed him little pieces of fruit interspersed with kisses, each of them equally sweet. My hands would run through his hair as I pet and play with him, making him blush as he relaxes further into my arms.

Once he was fully relaxed and happy in the sun I would reach into my bag and pull out my favourite collar for him, he'd look so confused wondering what I could be thinking of doing. But I'd explain: 'it's simple really, if you take a pet to the park you have to make sure they have a collar with your name on it. Otherwise, how will people know that you're the owner if they get lost?'

He would turn a deep pink and nod at my explanation, letting me slip on the collar as I call him my good boy.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

ive come to realise that i dont actually hate kubokai, i just hate the way people write them

[llondonfog]

OK so Baul and Lilias friendship lives in my mind rent free, so I think that a few days after silver gets sick for the first time and mama and papa zigvolt manage to teach lilia the proper way to care for a sick infant after he comes over to their house tembling with poorly restrained panic, Baul goes over with v little persuasion from his daughter to check up on them.

What he sees is a happy and healthy Silver just quietly smiling up at him from Lilias arms while Lilia is passed out in his rocking chair fevered and red from catching baby's first cold.

Baul immediately assigns himself caretaker duties, doesn't even bother trying to move Silver from Lilias arms and instead just picks them both up to deposit them both in Lilias bed for a proper nap before checking the fridge for tomato soup ingredients.

When he first heard from his daughter that Lilia— Lilia Vanrouge, the once General of the Right, feared commander of the fae armies and scourge of humankind— had adopted a human child and had been caring for it for several months now, Baul had roared with laughter so hard that he split a scale wide open on his cheek.

It was certainly a poor excuse for a joke, the very kind of rumor that the castle fae still bitter over Lilia's persistent existence four hundred years later might spread. The very idea that Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge, would debase himself to care for a human child not of his blood, to stoop so low as to toil over its screeching and wailing demands when he had bathed in the screams of its own kind with a mad vengeance after the tragedy of Lady Meleanor . . . not even four hundred years of honeyed peace was enough to sweeten that wound.

Time, it seemed, had forgotten what was so cruelly emblazoned in the very depths of Baul's mind, in Lilia's own memories, and the nightmares of all those surviving fae who stalked the forests during those blood-soaked nights. Those born in kinder years had never known the horror of human avarice, and even his own daughter had taken up residence with one of their kind despite her father's immense displeasure, simpering, soft-hearted fool that her husband was.

At least, to Baul's proud credit, their lineage rippled strong and true through his grandchildren— and with his daughter due any day under the weight of a third, he's only too certain for another healthy, bouncing, scaled Zigvolt.

So when she had simply stared back at him with crossed arms and an arched brow while he had laughed and laughed and laughed, a sinking kind of horror began to creep into his heart— surely . . . she wasn't serious?

Months— hardly the blink of an eye for faekind, but everything to humans. Months, Lilia had kept a child for several months, and not once had tried to rid himself of it? Not once tried to deposit it upon the stoop of a human village and wipe his hands clean of the responsibility of child-rearing? He had been taking advice from Baul's daughter and her wisp of a husband on how to pacify and coddle it? He had barged into their home, fretful beyond measure with a colicky babe clutched in his arms, and all but demanded them to cure the child?

("Or what?" Baul found himself asking, utterly bewildered and needing to find some kernel of normalcy in the fact that surely Lilia had menaced his daughter's husband some into obeying his whims.

"Or nothing, Father," she said, the taunting ghost of a knowing smile playing about her lips. "In all the years that I've known him, I've never seen him quite so distraught. He stayed by the crib all night, frozen— we had to tell him it was alright to breathe and to hold Silver's hand if he wanted, it was as if he was afraid to hurt him.")

Silver? Lilia, afraid? Holding the hand of some human child?

It simply couldn't be true.

It couldn't be, this had to be some elaborate, poorly executed prank.

He clung to that belief even as his daughter shoved a bundle of medicine, food, and knitted blankets into his arms with the stern instruction to deliver them to Lilia's home (Home! He had never heard the forest cottage to be described in such terms! The place was a hovel, a storage shed for Lilia to dump his treasures before venturing off to the next location, how could it be considered a home?).

He clung to it even as he emerged from the woods to the path that led up to the cottage's door, casting unnerved glances to the strange and new abundance of woodland creatures skulking about the thatched roof and scampering along the thick tree trunk supporting the cottage like a lean-to, soft little animals that would have darted away in fright from Lilia's presence before Baul's own.

He clung to it until he could no more, when he threw open the cottage door with an odd tightness in his chest to see his oldest friend collapsed on a worn and lumpy armchair with a honest-to-goodness human baby snuggled safely within his arms and sucking happily on a stray piece of ruby-stained hair. Beyond them, a soothing glow flickered in the fireplace where a kettle of milk quietly steamed, and the scattered presence of cloth toys littered the living room floor along with (Baul shuddered) well-thumbed pamphlets, their covers illustrated with the cheerful faces of frolicking human children.

What had this child done to Lilia Vanrouge?

[kerizaret]

you draw tsukasa so good he’s sp pretty i want to smooch him i mean what who said that

Smooched him for you 🫶 💋

[deceptive-daydreams]

finishing up a good cry and you’re in that state of it where you’re like hiccuping and trying to regulate your breathing while Eddie brushes your hair and whispers softly to you and every once in a while he stops to caress your jaw and turn your face toward him so he can kiss your nose and tell you he loves you

[dustykneed]

Hello! Random whipper snipper! Share a WIP of your work!

ooh, with pleasure. six the musical araleyn fanart? in the year 2k24? more likely than you think xDD

i realize this looks finished, but technically i'm still deciding whether to add a background or not lol. still, for the sake of sharing a proper WIP, here's a line or two from an araleyn brainworm WIP that i started reworking yesterday (mild tw for religious guilt and period-typical internalized homophobia from aragon's pov):

She remembers sharing her bed with Anne at Henry's behest, remembers the nights of tossing and turning and trying not to think about Anne asleep next to her-- remembers waking up to dark hair spilling across her pillow and the press of blood-warm bosoms against her own, softer than sin, as hot as the Devil, remembers lying still as death, mouthing prayers into the heat of Anne's neck like an act of penance.

[resuswhore]

💞 would love to open a handsome boy's lifeless mouth, finding it grey with hypoxia, and clip a pulse ox monitor right to his tongue like he was my pretty puppy 💞 feeling the chord and the hard plastic as I press my warm, hot mouth over his cold, limp, grey one to give breaths 💞 using the clip to pull his slack tongue out of his mouth and airway, so I make sure all of my air reaches his pretty chest 💞 doing compressions and watching the clip bob, taking his tongue with it, as his body spasms under the effort 💞 maybe I get to slide a tube down his throat, using only my hands of course, getting to guide it down is airway and into his lungs all on my own, no scope, the process intimate, my hands digging around and manipulating his tongue and jaw to get it in place right 💞 getting to take that tube down and use it, kissing around it, forcine air through it 💞 maybe I get to see some fluid drain out of it like a spout as I do compressions or turn him on his side 💞 getting to see his mouth full and used 💞 getting that pretty puppy mouth all pink again so I can kiss him softly 💞 what a dream 💞