#this is so romantic to me <333< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[eatingsomegreeneggos]

I cannot wait for Wish to come out this year! Some crossover art with the original wish lady because we love pretty tall women ✨️💙

[1pcii]

Zoro napping while holding his swords like this is something that can be so personal actually

[l3viat8an]

gimmie a random Levi screenshot -🍿

here you go :)

[chaos-burst]

[ID: a digital illustration of two D&D characters, one mine (Asche, he/him, on the left) and the other one belonging to @fearless-flower (Kieran, he/him, on the right) done by @sadfishkid. The art shows the two characters from a bird's eye view as they're lying on a bed, spooning and asleep. Asche is a black-skinned tiefling/fire genasi with black, untidy hair and orange, glowing markings all over his body as well as many scars and bruises. Kieran is the big spoon behind him. He is a grey-skinned drow with long, pointy ears, black curly hair and he's wearing a white tank top and a turquoise shorts with small dragons on it. Next to the bed stands a nightstand with pain killers, sweets and two mugs on it. Warm evening sunlight bathes the scene in a soft, orange glow. End ID]

At this point I feel like Tasha is the official artist for my Enor campaign :'D Kieran is a PC (rogue/fighter) in my homegame and Asche is an NPC (rogue/warlock). When the guy who was sent to assassinate you saves your life instead this is what happens. Oops.

[spaciebabie]

okay guys so heres the thing. if i am having fun and being happy over a post and you come in my inbox and say something rude about how im enjoying something you're getting blocked lol. i have been veeeeeeeery nice so far. i dont know why you're following me if you're gonna make a stink when i reblog/make art/talk abt something i like. why are you here. you know. the blog where i talk/reblog/make art abt the things i like. if you dont like it here instead of telling me. leave. be a decent person, okay?

[abcwordsurge]

ok here we go, as promised, queerplatonic floui headcanons!

*proceeds to sit and stare at the computer for like ten minutes, motionless*

ah-hah ok, the headcanons have loaded, there they are under the cut:

they know each other so so well. they can almost always predict what the other is thinking or planning, and most often they're the first to notice when the other is feeling sad or annoyed or whatever. they just. they get each other

you know that butterflies feeling you get when you're thinking about a crush or whatever? (I dunno, I'm told that's what happens when you allos get crushes) there's little to none of that between Loui and Flo. they're so comfortable with each other that there's no reason for nervousness, or quick heart rates, or whatever else you alloromantic people claim you feel

Loui is chill like 90% of the time, right? but he absolutely cannot keep his cool when he's talking to Spain, because he's just so furious that Spain was, um, not the best parent to Florida

Florida is a bit romance repulsed, and Loui is so so careful about making sure that nothing they do makes Florida uncomfortable (like, they cuddle and all that, but no kissing on the lips, but Florida does like it when Loui kisses his forehead or fingers- and there are just so many little things that Loui makes sure Florida likes before he does them)

they call each other "Floridile" and "Louigator" (found this one in my notes, I apparently came up with it like months ago and completely forgot)

when Florida gets a new hyper fixation, he's always so excited to go over and tell Loui all about it, and Loui just sits and watches him with the dopiest smile because he's so happy to see Florida so excited

Loui struggles with self doubt sometimes, and when he does, Florida always goes right to him. he'll try to distract Loui with TV or crime or goofy stories, but if Loui's not feeling it, he'll just sit there. y'know, to show that he'll always be there for him

they're absolutely codependent, but, like, in a cute way

please feel free to share your own queerplatonic floui hcs if you have any; I always love to hear more about my boys

(@sleepdeprivedsimp234 @lunearobservatory @misery-has-no-company-now, thanks for being willing to hear me ramble haha)

[pennedinblood]

thank youuuu @cringefailvox for the tag :) <333 haven't had a chance to write much this week but!! here's a snippet from Romantic Homicide— not the next chapter, but in fact the one after that :3 (yes i'm two chapters/15k+ words ahead. no i have not posted squat. we don't talk about it)

“I mean, you seemed pretty peeved the last time.” Peeved is putting it lightly; the man would not stop complaining about having to drag his sorry ass three fucking blocks, as if it’s even an inconvenience for someone that can dip in and out of shadows on a whim. Vox ducks his head a little beneath the crimson canopy, antennas flopping forward like coiled springs.   “Oh.” Alastor raises the umbrella, the gentleman that he is. “Perhaps I have been a little harsh on the matter.”  “Maybe,” Vox admits. “But I can’t rely on you for everything, Al.” His mind wanders to the stack of sheets that once sat on the coffee table in his apartment, carefully bound and ready. A divisive proposal, in more ways than one. Vox tacks on a laugh, hopes it veils his discomfort. “Sooner or later, a bird’s gotta leave the nest.”  “Well, it's a good thing you’re a picture box, then, isn’t it?” “Ha ha.”  Beside him, Alastor slows. He squints through the haze of rain and out toward the edge of the street, a funny look crossing his features. “Tell me something. Why didn’t you use the powerlines? There are more than enough around.” Vox's heart lurches. Within the incomprehensible void that passes for his mouth, a sandpapered-tongue scrabbles to find purchase on words. “Ah, you know.” Vox waves a flimsy hand, fooling no one. “I figured ruining your night would be more fun. I barely had to try, and look!” He leans in with a grin, encroaching further on the small space between them, the smallest sliver of dry land in a storm. “I’ve got my own personal escort! And it’s the Radio Demon, no less.” “Lot of blabber for someone near tears on the telephone earlier.”

@toastervox @henchy5824 @lunchtimebedamned1997 (only if yall want to!!:DD) & @ anyone else feel free to join, love seeing wips :)

[apollos-boyfriend]

i'm so lucky that jaiden keeps dropping merch when she does bc i keep being able to just ask for them for my birthday instead of having to drop 60+ dollars on it myself <3 thank you miss animations

[that-was-anticlimactic]

"can you stay?" + atsushi & kyouka

"can you stay?"

atsushi's voice trembles as they speak, and kyouka freezes.

"nevermind."

atsushi laughs almost immediately, blinking away the impending tears and wavng their hands in front of them. "sorry. you don't... that was stupid of me to say. i'm-"

"stop apologizing."

kyouka slides beside them, curling up against their side. she head plops on their shoulder.

they're warm and shakey, and kyouka feels soft on atsushi's neck.

"i don't mind staying."

honestly, she wanted to stay. no matter how many times she watches atsushi - her sibling by everything but blood - get stabbed, the more she fears for them.

it's a little foolish, she knows; she's been familiar with blood and death and gore since her parents died. limbs being torn off and blood slowly oozing out of the body doesn't scare her.

but it does when she sees it happening to atsushi.

(and she doesn't say anything, but atsushi isn't the only one who gets nightmares - she's just better at keeping them quiet)

"you're just a kid..." atsushi mumbles, breaths shaky and uneven. "you shouldn't have to-to comfort me."

even so, kyouka soon feels the cool pads of their compression gloves rubbing her wrist.

"doesn't matter," she says, because she knows you're still a kid, too only upsets them more.

"okay."

they whisper it so quietly the only reasons kyouka hears it is because of her assassin training.

good.

she snuggles closer still and listens to their heartbeat. it starts off quick, but gradually falls until it's steady.

and kyouka is able to fall asleep with the reminder that her sibling is still alive.

(send me a sentence (+ a ship/character) and i'll write the next five sentences)

[s0ftcr33p]

❤︎ Let me be the one to ❤︎

❤︎ Hold your hand forever ❤︎

❤︎ We'd be good together ❤︎

❤︎ I'll make you feel special ❤︎

❤︎ Help you feel less stressful ❤︎

❤︎ Fix the holes in your heart ❤︎

❤︎ It's what I wanted from the start ❤︎

[collectingavenuesmwue]

Fuck that no protection thing

He is so beautiful, handsome, pretty, elegant, gorgeous, breathtaking, attractive, charming, heavenly, perfect, hot, stunning, exquisite, cute, magnificent, divine, alluring, pleasing, lovely, adorable, delicious, delightful, appealing, engaging, winsome, ravishing, irresistible, bewitching, graceful, sexy, tasty, dazzling, fascinating, fine, wonderful, showstopping, flawless, jaw dropping, fabulous, fantastic, eye catching, desirable, sublime, captivating, seductive, adoring, my light, my life, my everything, nice, sweet, sensational, tantalizing, glorious, prepossessing, scrumptious, good looking, splendid, like honestly can we date? you are so beautiful, you always make me laugh, you always make me smile, you literally make me want to be a better person, i really enjoy every moment we spend together, my time has no value unless spent with you, thanks for being you, whenever you need someone there for you i will always be at your side, i love you so much, i don’t think you realize how amazing you are sometimes, life isn’t as fun when you’re not around, you’re really wonderful, i hope you are my soulmate, i love the way you smile, your eyes are absolutely beautiful, if i had a star for every time you crossed my mind it would be a galaxy, your personality is as pretty as you are, i would bake for you, i would break worlds for you, i would die for you, i love you, please go out with me, if you give me a chance i’ll try to compare to your divine presence, i will love you until the world ends, until the atom bomb locks in, until the earth caves in, until the moon drifts away, until creation is destroyed and built all over again, until the next sunrise, until our world goes dark, until the only thing i know is you, until our bodies are shaped for eachother, until all others have vanished, until we die, until we meet again in another life, until all love songs are about us, until we make it into history, until we die together, until we are united in eternal bliss, until the galaxies swirl around us, until our love becomes stronger than gravity, until the light sets on us for a final time, until all others lights go out except for us, until we become a fairytale, until all the world knows the name of the two lovers, until we are the definition of love, until i know every part of you, until you know how much i adore you, until we become a green tragedy, until earth and the heavens fall for us, until life ceases to exist, until nothing surrounds us, when until is merely just a word to us, our love will never stop for anything, always starting again when we meet in another life.

[narwhalandchill]

its been like. nearly a year (How.) already but i cannot lie theres Still a part in the back of my brain occupied with and being thoroughly entertained by the way that childes confirmed 4.0 complete self-awareness over waking up the narwhal at 14 recontextualizes some key liyue things leading to some very funny self indulgent scenarios in my head

like yes chili is old news its basic please excuse me for predictable popular ship crimes (do NOT however associate me w the crimes of fanon against their actual range. theyre peak to Me) but i just keep replaying the imagery of zhongli and childe back on their homoerotic Professional Working Relationship bullshit where their flirting passed the jkjk unless treshold of even remotely plausible deniability like 8 exorbitantly priced business dinners ago and theyre just like. doing that whole song and dance now neither committing to a move except zhonglis presently feeling moderately conflicted (but nonetheless fairly unfazed at) by the prospects of actually developing some sort of a thing for the harbinger hes supposed to puppet master into executing the major story climax of his 67-step retirement plan bc he turned out to be quite the strangely charming ginger specimen (to His weird fucking 6000 year old tastes at least. they deserve each other) with some fascinating life ambitions he cant help but be enraptured by.

but because hes still 100% Locked In on his entire plan zhonglis also just . simultaneously dual wielding his coy-ass "i like you and am taking it slow to Savor this developing relationship (Also bc of the Geo Archon Shaped Elephant In The Room) except am old as shit so my languid sense of time inadvertedly Automatically turns my behavior into an equivalent of the dark souls boss of playing hard2get" act (cue "waddup im ajax 24 and im in fucking agony with this hot funeral consultant". Yes they live like this) AND also meticulously theorycrafting like 12 moves in advance for his 6d chess play of leaving the most subtly crafted trail of breadcrumbs behind for the tsaritsas 11th to follow into the intended & completely "Coincidental" idea of unleashing the one particular sealed sea deity that zhongli Specifically wants momentarily released for his sweet 6k retirement party and graduation test for the nation hes helicopter parented for 3.7k years .

like. this is zhongli we r talking about the guy Absolutely has it planned out down to a fucking art like he has an entire branching path dialogue tree planned and memorized like its a visual novel for every possible way he can conveniently namedrop osial in a non-suspect way and also that he just happens to be sealed right over there across the harbor (what a coincidence!) and also to slip in the intel about the latent power of the sigil of permission etc etc. like zhonglis just out there doing all this massive galaxy brain computational work simultaneously while infodumping on an academic level about whichever subject childes latest random comment of amicable small talk happened to remind him of because in his helicopter parent in remission mind its Absolutely Critical that the idea about releasing osial occurs Completely organically in childes mind it Has to he Cannot risk revealing anything . (hes in remission not in recovery guys.) so like here we are. he requested notes from the tsaritsa Personally on the character of her 11th just to ensure every move was painstakingly crafted to draw him Specifically to the intended conclusion without risking revealing his true identity .

except. the thing . neither he. nor the tsaritsa . would have been informed of . is that this simply isnt childes first fucking rodeo waking up an eldritch city sized sea creature . and he is very well aware of this fact . he woke that beautiful wonderful beloved huge fucking narwhal up by himself had his brain chemistry Immediately and Irrevocably rewired as a direct consequence do you fucking think hes somehow stopped thinking about that singular moment for even a second since then???

yeah . thought so.

so what actually ends up happening in reality is theyll be on another definitely-serious-business-not-just-a-date and zhonglis going to get down to like dialogue selection part 10 of the 86 step conversation tree at Most where hes only beginning to like Vaguely allude to the key pieces of information involved but it turns out Because Hes That Guy (TM) And Has Been There Done That Before childes basic pattern recognition and sense of irony simply proceed to kick in Way ahead of time and hes Immediately perking up like Hey wouldnt it be really fucking funny if i wake up an eldritch sea beast Again . like just in case. as a last ditch effort .

and zhonglis just sitting there seeing the gears turn in his head as they enjoy their cringe fucking picnic (bc they just stare at each other intently like that nowadays its a thing. being in a room with them by this point is essentially a human rights violation) and is just completely fucking flabbergasted and lost on how in the hell childes speedran his way to that conclusion at what amounts to barely a 13% completion rate in his whole overkill fucking plan (just 1 of 3 contingencies btw) and its like yes he has his intended outcome but also precisely 0 idea on how the fuck said outcome was reached the way it was this fast . like hes still winning its His plan thats well underway and ahead of schedule but How

(pov: ur selling the concept of waking up destructive sea creatures to the guy who woke up a celestial body eating cosmic whale at 14)

anyway its truly beautiful i absolutely detest these two and have prime liyue AQ hijinks nostalgia now thank you for the lore drop that allowed this to become canon in my head hoyo

[gentleman-aster]

Reasons why Count Dracula is babygirl:

Fictional

Old man

Homicidal

Kinda gay

Beyond redemption

Spooky and isolated

Tries to act formal and like his plans work but is actually pathetic and kinda silly

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

🌾 these quiet lives ⛰️

deanjo fic - 1437 words - rating: G - western au - read on ao3

There is a small ranch, somewhere on the border between Kansas and Nebraska, about a twenty minute ride out from the nearest town. Its windows are shuttered now, but in the ephemeral times of cowboys and outlaws, it was a bustling little place - perhaps not full of people, but full to the brim with two quiet lives being well lived after many days of hardship. 

These quiet lives were those of Jo Harvelle and Dean Winchester.

or, the dean and jo are long term cowboy partners on the ranch they bought together and now dean is cutting jo's hair fic

written for beloved rain @queerstudiesnatural's 2k celebration and the prompt deanjo! i had an absolute blast running with this. massive thanks to @magdaclaire for the beta <3

fic is below the cut!

There is a small ranch, somewhere on the border between Kansas and Nebraska, about a twenty minute ride out from the nearest town. Its windows are shuttered now, but in the ephemeral times of cowboys and outlaws, it was a bustling little place - perhaps not full of people, but full to the brim with two quiet lives being well lived after many days of hardship. 

These quiet lives were those of Jo Harvelle and Dean Winchester.

To everyone else (namely the nosey figures in the windows of that small town a twenty minute ride away), their partnership looked formulaic: a guy and a girl shacking up together with a few horses, a ranch, saving up to make the place a little cozier. Nothing that nobody hadn’t seen before. 

But what everyone else didn’t know was how radical their love was. The way that Dean was Jo’s first kiss with a man, and Jo Dean’s first kiss with a woman, when they were both far from virginity. How they had drifted in and out of each other’s lives for years like no one could decide their fate. The scars along Jo’s torso, too, were proof that they had almost been out of time. That they were alive, to realize the could-be potential of their will-they-won’t-they relationship at all, was incredible. It was the time of outlaws, afterall, and our two protagonists had not been immune to a lawless life.

With all that stood in their way you could perhaps be justified in saying their love was out of character. But it wasn’t. It made perfect sense, in the same way that poetry might, strong and solid in meaning if only when read by the right eyes. And that was Jo and Dean: a nonsense poem with a strict rhyme scheme, predictable on the surface yet profound between the lines. Rhythmic, galloping, beating hearts as certain as hooves on the sun-hard ground. 

Still, they weren’t strictly in love. Rather, the love was all around them. Jo saw it in the green oasis of their pastures amid the desert land, in the firewood piled beside the porch, in the leather jacket quietly left for her to wear on colder days. Dean saw it in the crystal clarity of the ranch windows after a rough wind, in the oats faithfully refilled in the stables, in the gift of a new hat with a wider brim when the heatwave came. For both of them it was a love of actions, the affection solid and tangible and filling after years of starvation.

Contentment, in the gentle touches of four scarred hands. 

On one of the long sloping dusks of August, the world bathing in nectarine and plum, Jo sat on the bottom porch step with Dean a step above, his knees either side of her. It was the kind of evening which cost nothing, yet gave everything in return, where the turn of the earth could be felt in the hum of the cicadas, and the day, while fading away, seemed still to be new - the kind of evening which only ever occurred thrice in the nineteenth century, and has not occurred since. Well, it was on that incredibly rare kind of evening belonging only truly to retired outlaws, that Dean held silver scissors (copper in the light) in his scarred hands as he snipped easily away at Jo’s hair.

“Almost a decade past since we got this place, now,” Jo mused. “You were 31 then, you’re 41 now.”

“And you were 24.” 

“I’m older now than you were when we moved here.”

Dean hummed, somewhere quiet between surprise and acknowledgement, the scissors snipping a melody at the nape of Jo’s neck. 

He had been in the habit of cutting Jo’s hair for as long as they’d set up together on the ranch - a few months short of a decade, to agree with Jo - as, though she liked knives, she wasn’t to be trusted with them near a head of hair, and Dean had had the practice of cutting his younger brother’s shag for all his adolescent years. 

Tonight, though, was slightly different from the usual trim. Cursing the summer heat and finally relaxing into Dean’s encouragement, Jo had marched up to her partner and demanded anything past her chin to be very decidedly cut off. She could tuck it behind her ears as she worked, and the wave of her hair would bring it up off her neck and out of the heat. All this had been patiently explained by Dean many times before. He had this way of knowing Jo, and knew, in the same way as he liked wearing his mother’s jewelry, that cutting her hair might steady her in the skin she was prone to slipping in and out of. 

So far, Jo liked it. Liked the feeling of weight leaving her, the almost dizzying lightness that came with her hair cascading to the floor. She had followed Dean blind into battle, and while she would not do that again, she could go all in on him cutting her hair well. The many hues of their relationship, the bright bruises of their coming-of-age, had not altered, simply mellowed. 

“D’you ever miss it?” Dean said, caring yet mild. “The life we had before all this?” 

Jo waited for two hawks to sail across the apricot sky before answering, no clouds to dapple the light. The words came to her easy enough, but from somewhere moving and deep, wading through long grass. She breathed in deeply, bringing herself to meet them, allowing herself to savor their sweetness.

“All the time we were running with that gang, I were thinkin’ - this is what proper love is, to have something worth dying for. I’d never known it before, you know. An’ then that hound sinks its teeth into my side an’ my vision goes white and there’s only one thing I remember seein’ after that.”

The careful snips of the scissors ceased, and Jo smiled, tilting her head upwards to hold Dean’s gaze.

“You. I could barely think nothin’ and it’s just your face in front of me and then I had one thought, and it were just that I’d been wrong. I were wrong. Love is something worth living for. By god, right then I knew it was worth livin’ for you.”

“Joanna Beth,” Dean whispered, his lips rose and soft around her name. 

Jo had not used to like it when he called her that, mainly due to the fact it was the name her mother had flung at her from across the bar in many a desperate fit of anger, back when she was alive and both of them working at the Roadhouse. It was a name that sank low in her gut like a guilty stone, heavy with the shame of misplaced temper. Jo had wanted to get out, and her mother had wanted a daughter, and neither could give the other what they wanted.

But Dean only ever used Joanna Beth in moments of adoration. As if he felt the simple Jo could not do her justice. When he said Joanna Beth, it meant he was seeing the whole of her, afresh, anew, finding again all of her troubled histories and still wanting to write futures with her.

Her slate was never, would never be clean. There was too much blood for that. But Dean saw the blood and did not love her in spite of it, but with it. Like he wouldn’t rather have her any other way. 

“Grow older with me, Winchester,” Jo murmured, and she turned in his lap to meet him, having been inches too far from him for far too long.

His lips pressed hers tenderly, like they had done hundreds of times before. The great heartlands of America could not hold as many sensations at this, for all of the lushious, dying, sprawling, changing lands around had nothing on them. They were not in love, but they were radiant with it, each with the other firmly and irreparably in their heart.

Jo had yet to find a gray hair, and she felt her breathing alongside Dean was nothing short of a miracle. She hummed these next words against lips, passing them like a breath between them.

“Grow old.”

And, dear reader, I can see even now through the shuttered windows of the ranch they whiled away their years on the many contented memories they made. There is still love there, this century and a half later: it is not a haunting, but a remembrance.

They did, indeed, grow old. 

[itsjaywalkers]

not sure if i actually ship bartylily but i am very intrigued by them….would definitely read if u ever wrote anything for them 👀���

how do u think them and jeg would interact?? i feel like the existence of bartylily would throw james & reg off so much lmaooo

CASS I ADORE U AND I’M KISSING U SO HARD FOR THIS it’s such an honour to hear that you’d read them if i ever write anything for them <3 (which i definitely will, they’re in my mind too often)

OOOOOOH I JUST GIGGLED OUT LOUD i think their reactions would be . very fun and wildly different. like reg would be surprised at first and i don’t think he’d get it. like barty, he has this specific view of lily in his mind and he doesn’t understand how barty could’ve fallen for her in the first place and viceversa. they don’t make sense to him but he isn’t . mean or judgemental about it, i feel like none of barty’s friends would be (they’d tease him and take the piss out of him all the time tho, bc that man is Down Bad). after he actually Sees them together a couple of times he starts to get it. they shouldn’t make any sense but they do and they work surprisingly well together so . he stops questioning it at some point and is just supportive

james however. is Appalled. Baffled. Disgusted even. this might just be one of the worst things that’s ever happened to him. it’s not even about jealousy, he’s with reg (sorry it’s the jeggy obsession) and only sees lily as a friend but barty is his Least Favourite Person in existence. he already has to spend too much time around him bc he’s reg’s best friend and now??? now he’s with lily??? bc not only they get along but they’re also dating??? yeah no Fuck That

don’t get me wrong i feel like almost all of lily’s friends wouldn’t take kindly to the news at first (obviously this depends on how u portray both friend groups and their opinions of each other but to me . they never truly get along u know) but i think that they’d grow to accept it at some point. even if begrudgingly. marlene and mary at least. the jury is still out about sirius + remus + peter

but james??? oh he Hates it. and Hates it forever. he’s happy to see lily happy, yeah, but that’s about it. he’s the man who gets up in the middle of the wedding to try and oppose even if he knows there’s no stopping them (reg is incredibly embarrassed and hating his life choices and trying to get him to sit back down) (barty finds it absolutely hilarious and is delighted to know he’s causing james this much turmoil even after so many years) (lily is very much Done and this is exactly why she didn’t want to invite james) (but barty needed reg there and everyone knows that reg and james are a package deal) (anyway i digress)

[shot-by-cupid]

We are unfortunately. SO back