#your honor i love them <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[tansu-bomb]

Jang Uk *would burn the entire world down to take his beloved wife Naksu home*

Crown Prince *would burn the entire world down to take his beloved pet turtle home*

[isastrxnd]

I’m sorry i just saw this:

I will be on the floor for the next few days

[gece-misin-nesin]

Hi there.

Can you rank the LOV on how quick they would reply to a message on their phone?

first, thank you for the ask!

secondly, i feel like this depends on who's texting them lol. also, are we including how long it takes them to see it as well, or just how quickly they reply once they see it? i guess smth like this:

kurogiri, he'd be very prompt

himiko, she's one of those people who would send a ton of messages to say smth that can be said in a single one lol

spinner i put here because i don't see him ignoring texts. also he's online often so he'd be quick.

tomura fully depends on his mood imo. if he's annoyed that day he probably decayed his phone anyway, so good luck. he definitely sees texts, he's online often too.

magne wouldn't reply if she was in the middle of something, she's gonna reply as soon as she's free though. however, if the text looks important she would drop everything immediately.

twice replying at all is probably a 50/50 tbh. he def sees it tho

compress would be dramatic about it and send cryptic shit and you would NOT understand what he's talking about. he's low here because he would see messages very late

dabi leaves people on read. he actually reads texts tho. however if he sees something important he's immediately getting wherever the person is. kind of like this in a vague au:

shoto: touya-nii i burnt down the kitchen.

dabi: *immediately gets on his motorcycle and hauls his ass over there

[charliespringsdimples]

[livingdeadvoid]

Domestic Zatanna and John Constantine.

Like they're married with kids and everything. John would hate it at first, he'd be so bored. But then he would like fall in love with it. They would teach their kids magic and everything.

Now lemme make a Zatanna and John Constantine love child.

[make-me-your-animal]

[mintraspberryst]

what if we did nothing and stayed in bed all day

[unleashedsonic]

edit of that one scene :3

bonus edit of me making it gay(er)

[shortstrawberryartzsblog]

AFK Arena Celestial OC: “The Celestial Messenger”

“I am the bringer of good news”

Once there were two wanderers of the world, known to bring help to those in need and ward off the evil that attempt to lure them into the darkness. One wanderer was known for healing the sick with their tears, while the other was known for his spit to be full of venom. Amongst the two of them, the healer was called upon to become a celestial, one who could travel to bring the good news of those who had asked for desperate help. Leaving the other behind to eventually fall into the darkness that he had once fought.

I’ve been stressing over this design for a while, so I hope this is good lol.

[cranberryspringart]

Guzma is my favorite baby gorl

[cyanidesimp]

Yeah- I- you know, the- one thing I should- excuse me for one second

[ladydorian05]

Aaah!!

Robin drags Steve to a local art exhibit on a goddamn weeknight. This is not his scene at all.

Pretentious douchebags in scarves discussing if that splatter of paint represents socioeconomic downfall? Nah, this shit is not for him.

Robin ditches him halfway through the exhibit to talk to some sculptor that she’s got a thing for. Honestly, Steve would’ve done the same thing if it were him. But still, Steve is five minutes away from leaving her ass and taking a cab home.

He’s sitting on metal bench, centered a few feet away from the oversized canvas of scattered colors.

It looks like such a mess. Scribbled strokes of paint and lines that bump into curves. Everything intersecting. Someone would probably try to convince him that it represents the artist’s troubled past or fucked up childhood.

To Steve, it’s just a mess.

“What do you think?” A voice asks, joining Steve on the bench.

He looks to be about Steve’s age. Bold features, bolder hairstyle. All black clothes with chunky red combat boots. Elaborate tattoos creeping over the collar of his shirt.

Steve shrugs. “Truthfully? I don’t get it.”

“It’s art. What don’t you get about it?” The guy looks stunned.

Is Steve really about to argue with a complete stranger over lines and colors?

“There’s nothing but lost movements.”

Guess he is.

Steve observes the nameplate next to the canvas and goes off.

“Like this Eddie Munson guy held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’ Honestly, this whole place is a facade for people to masquerade around, pretending to be in tune to artistic expression, but they’re not.”

“They’re not?”

“No.” Steve answers immediately, a little defensive. “Nobody here gives a shit about what the artist is trying to convey, and this artist…”

Steve points at the artwork.

“This Munson guy knew that. Knew he could fool every rich asshole in this place.”

The guy looks at the painting and laughs. He’s got a nice smile, Steve thinks. Wide and genuine. Not too perfect. Not overly rehearsed. Like he doesn’t give out smiles to just anyone.

“Eddie Munson couldn’t fool you though, could he?” He finally says, looking directly at Steve.

The intense eye contact makes Steve a bit fidgety. Nervous. “I guess not, no.”

“I like that.”

“Like what?”

“That you refuse to see what everyone else sees.” The guy turns away, releasing Steve from the gaze. “Even if that would be easier.”

It almost sounded like he was trying to say he likes Steve. Not that Steve would complain if that were true. This guy is not his type, but that doesn’t mean he’s unwilling to expand his definition of type for someone that’s interested in him.

“What do you think about it?” Steve tilts his head towards the canvas.

The guy twists the ring on his thumb, processing an answer. He crosses his legs, then un-crosses them. Twists the ring counterclockwise now.

“I think the painter abandoned their originality to meet their growing audience’s expectations of them as an artist.” He finally says.

Steve scoffs. “How did you draw up a conclusion like that?”

The guy hums and abruptly changes the topic. “What did you say your name was?”

“Steve Harrington.”

“Right.” He gets up and gestures toward a ‘staff only’ door. “Up for a little field trip, Steve Harrington?”

This is dumb. Breaking laws is something Steve left behind in his angst-filled teen years.

But this guy is bad-boy hot and Steve is painfully bored, so he follows the stranger despite his better judgement.

They enter the door and are instantly greeted by a trail of empty paint buckets. There’s dirty tarps covering the floors and countless canvases laid out across the wide room.

Right away, Steve can tell this is what art is all about. The chaos. The urgency to create as soon inspiration strikes.

And these paintings look nothing like the one hanging in the gallery. These paintings are full narratives told through shapes and pigments.

These paintings could be an autobiography on the topic of someone who experiences life deeply. Passionately.

These are the untold masterpieces.

“Wow.” Is all Steve finally comes up with.

“To answer your question,” the stranger gestures grandly to the entirety of the room. “This is how I drew up that conclusion.”

“This was the originality. It’s stuck behind these four walls, but it’s where everything started. It’s where everything should have stayed.”

Steve carefully watches the man explore all the different works of art. Bending down to touch some. Smiling playfully at others. Steve is stupidly captivated by his ability to shine amongst literal art.

“What did you say your name was?”

The guy chuckles and walks back over to Steve. “I didn’t.”

“Right. Are you gonna tell me?”

“That depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on if you’ll still kiss me after I tell you.”

They’re standing close, Steve hadn’t realized it until now. Maybe it was him closing the distance. Maybe it was the stranger. Maybe it was gravity growing tired of their mediocre foreplay.

But they’re close now. So close that Steve can see the lightening bolt tattoo below the stranger’s left ear. A thought runs rampant in Steve’s slutty mind that he could see every single neck tattoo if he were to start unbuttoning this guy’s shirt.

He’s close enough to do it.

“I’ll still kiss you afterwards,” Steve agrees dreamily. Getting high off of paint fumes and close proximity.

The stranger lets his hand wander up the back of Steve’s neck, breaths getting caught in Steve’s throat at the contact.

“I’m that Eddie Munson guy.” He says in a low whisper. “The same one who held up a paintbrush and went, ‘fuck it, they’ll never know this is bullshit.’”

Every word he utters is cautious now. Like Steve might change his mind about kissing him.

Steve doesn’t change his mind.

He pulls hard at Eddie’s collar, lets their lips collide dizzily fast. Eddie’s mouth pushes against his to lead the kiss, Steve is more than happy to let him do so.

It’s a noisy kiss. Sounds escaping out of the corners of their mouths. Airy gasps and rustling clothes filling the open space.

Steve breaks the kiss to speak, inhaling as much oxygen as he can get. “I’m guessing you bring lots of guys back here and woo them with your secretly amazing art.”

Eddie had transitioned to kissing Steve’s neck while he was talking, but stops as soon as Steve says that.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart.” Eddie cradles Steve’s flushed cheeks with both hands. “I only bring pretty boys who refuse to see what everyone else sees back here.”

Steve moves Eddie’s hands and wraps them around his own neck. “Even if that would be easier.”

Eddie smiles. “Exactly.”

He goes back to sucking on Steve’s neck, like he was rudely interrupted before, and Steve starts to feel as chaotic as the art surrounding them. Eddie marks him with a fresh bruise, just below his right ear. Mirroring the exact spot where Eddie’s lightening tattoo is located.

Eddie licks over it. Swirling his tongue in sweltering circles, making Steve pant wow as he finishes the creation he was designing solely with his mouth.

He exhales a single laugh into their kiss.

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head.

“I really like doing things that make you say wow like that, Steve Harrington.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “I really like that too.”

Eddie kisses him thoroughly slow once more, then nibbles over Steve’s ear as he whispers:

“Kinda curious to find out what else I can make you say.”

[zivazivc]

first night alone

[liesmultixxx]

annabeth: *pouring her heart out*

percy: *nodding*

(internally: the earrings!!! oh my gods the love of my life looks so wonderful😍😍)

not him focussing on little details because he’s just that whipped

[egophiliac]

this is basically what happened, right?

(these guys are very lucky that everyone at NRC 1) has the combined intelligence of a sack of bricks, and 2) is easily distracted by shiny things.)

[verysmolspams]

This blog is currently a simp for Arven 😅 please stand by if you see any OC x Canon content that you would not expect

I made a thing bc my friend brought up how much of a fucking simp I am for Arven

Pls use this as you see fit

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