#👀👀👀👀

[littlecutiexox]

*mutual likes my post*

Me: are they flirting 😳

[angelnicknelson]

.👀🥺

[magsalecs]

the people who didn't read the book watching this scene in the trailer: 🤨

the people who read the book watching this scene in the trailer: 😏

[ladyinwhitesupremacy]

Good morning Nevermore nation. The bunnybell apocalypse caught me too. Have a nice day.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Source: Stolen Glances; Lesbians Take Photographs - Edited by Tessa Boffin and Jean Fraser

[forza-carlos-sempre]

Once again, credit to the best account that exists on Instagram : carlosssainzhq

[magumachan]

Feeding the Bumblebee ship cause I noticed I haven’t made a single fanart for the series ever.

[twistedappletree]

I need more drunk Lan Wangji. I need more drunk wangxian doing cute wangxian things. I need drunk WWX losing his footing on a rooftop, LWJ grabbing him in a panic before he falls and holding him close as he whispers “you can’t fall again” because I love to break my own heart.

[stiltonbasket]

prompt: an au where wrh raises wwx, who is then forced to fight for the wens during the sunshot campaign.

“You are useless to me now,” Wen Ruohan says, contemplating his drink. “One little archer, one lucky shot—and my greatest hope after Wen Zhuliu has been ruined.”

The cup in his hand should have held wine: some of the clear, astringent liquor that Wen Qing favored, since it was a passable antiseptic in an emergency—but somehow, it had darkened to a deep, almost oily crimson, like the broth of the stewed lamb Wei Wuxian ate on the night before he rode out to Hejian.

He does not like to think of what his liege must be drinking now, and so he does not ask.

“Not useless,” Wei Wuxian says at last. “Wen Qing claims that a full bodily recovery—if it should take place at all—will come too late for this war effort, but I am still sound in mind. And that is at your service still, as much as it ever was.”

“That is some relief. I could have done without your mind, if I had your jindan and your strength; but since I am not to have either, your mind will have to do.”

Wei Wuxian nods, scarcely concealing the tremor in his fingers as he does so. When he arrived half a shichen ago, he was granted a chair instead of a patch of floor to kneel on, out of respect for his battle wound; but drawing breath in Wen Ruohan’s presence has never been easy, in spite of the fact that the man would likely rather cut off his own right hand than harm him, and the Lan-made poison eating away at Wei Wuxian’s veins has only made matters worse.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “My lord.”

“That concubine of yours, the one that serves you on the battlefield—what is his name?”

His heart stutters in his chest. “Yu Zhenhong, junshang. I have only two, and Yu-shi is the only man.”

“He should have thrown himself before that arrow, rather than suffer any risk to you,” Wen Ruohan snarls, dashing the white-jade cup upon the tiled ground at his feet. “He is a man, and all he can do for the continuation of your line is to ensure the continuation of your life—and if the arrow struck true, and you had been slain, who would have taught your yiniang’s child in your place?”

Painfully, Wei Wuxian lifts himself out of his chair and sinks to his knees on the floor.

“It was I who rode ahead of Yu-shi that day. The rest of the regiment would have come to harm, if he had followed me,” he says, bent so low that he can feel the coolness of the tiles on his forehead. “On his behalf—and on behalf of my yiniang, for Lady Li is close to her time, and any harm done to one of our household could injure her, or my child—I beg that you show him mercy.”

A sharp pain sparks under one of his fingers. He lifts it from the ground, and notes with dull surprise that his skin had been pierced by a shard of Wen Ruohan’s jade cup. 

Wen Ruohan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Very well, then. I will not give him any corporal punishment, for the sake of your yiniang’s peace of mind. But he must be punished somehow, and you are far too soft-hearted to do it properly.”

“My lord—”

“He is your favorite, is he not?” Wen Ruohan says idly. “You care for Li Shuai, and surround her with all the luxuries a man of your rank can afford. But Yu Zhenhong is the one who follows you to battle, the one you take into your confidence; so must he not be the one closest to your heart?”

“Yes.” The word feels like whetted steel on his tongue.

“Good,” his liege says, smiling. “Yu-shi has forgotten where he stands; and so, he must be reminded. He is not your husband—will never be your husband, for in all these years I have found no man or maiden worthy of being joined with you in marriage—but I think it would break his heart if I were to gift you another concubine. He tolerates Li-yiniang, because she can give you children, but if you were to take in another man...”

Wei Wuxian thinks wretchedly of the night Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong came to his manor in the Nightless City, having run so long that Yu Zhenhong’s feet were bleeding, and begged for shelter: any way you can grant it, Yu Zhenhong had said, swaying on his injured feet as he supported Li Shuai. Any way, Wei-jiangjun—Brother Wei—A-Shuai can travel no further, I beg of you—

“May Wen-zongzhu’s will be done. I accept,” Wei Wuxian murmurs aloud, lifting his head to look Wen Ruohan in the eye. “Who is it to be?”

Wen Ruohan waves a dismissive hand.

“I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow,” he says, with a grin that makes his too-long front teeth shimmer in the yellow lamplight. “But you need not fear for your own sake, Wei-jiangjun. After all, your Yu-shi could not rival this one for beauty if he tried for the rest of his life.”

_____

“A concubine? For Wei-jiangjun? Has Father lost his mind?”

Two figures in red were standing in the dungeons of the Sun Palace, by the very last cell in the deepest of the six underground keeps. Its lone inhabitant had been languishing there for a month, not permitted to set foot outside his prison save when he was dragged to the torture chambers; and even when the tendons in his legs were slashed, some twelve days earlier, he remained so impassive that the head torturer began to wonder if he could feel the pain at all.

Wen Xu lifts his torch and examines the prisoner. 

“I suppose he’s good-looking enough,” he shrugs, suppressing a shiver as the torchlight moves over Lan Wangji’s unblinking eyes. “His nephew was the archer who brought General Wei down at Hejian, so Fuqin must think that marrying Lan Wangji to Wei-jiangjun is a fitting punishment—for the uncle and nephew both.”

In the shadows of the cell, Lan Wangji’s bloodied hands curl over a splinter of stone he had torn away from the walls. 

He has been shaping it for the last fortnight, filing it against the reinforced rock of the floor until the top end had been ground to a razor-sharp point. Before his legs were broken, he intended to use it to pick the lock of his cell door and escape, but now...

“Tian ah,” Wen Chao whispers, apparently under the impression that Lan Wangji was in a meditative trance, and thus unable to hear him. “I don’t fancy Lan Wangji’s chances in the Wei-fu. Wei-jiangjun was furious when Wen Qing found out about the poison in his jindan.”

But now his escape had been planned for him. 

Lan Wangji’s grasp on the splinter grows tighter. 

“When will it be?” asks Wen Chao.

“Three days from now.”

Three days. 

Lan Wangji looks up at the ceiling of his cell, and then down at the sharp piece of rock in his palm. 

He has crossed paths with General Wei only twice: once in the Cloud Recesses twenty years previously, when the young Wei-jiangjun attended Lan Qiren’s summer lecture courses, and then again on the battleground in Hejian where he was taken prisoner thirty days ago. 

Until that fateful battle, he could not have picked General Wei out of a crowd if his life depended on it: but that night, Lan Wangji dreams of a hauntingly lovely face lost in sleep mere inches away from his own, and the trembling of his hands as his makeshift knife plunges into his bridegroom’s throat.

[ego-meliorem-esse]

Stop bothering him he is "dealing" with Alfreds and Arthurs bullshit he needs some space

[football-n-stuff]

Jude!!! 👀👀👀👀

[alltoowsll]

guysss she painted her nails red, I think she’s dropping red tv soon

[dudeitiskarev]

I really REALLY desperately need to write Hotch smut. No plot just pure filth so if anyone has any ideas or dirty thoughts about him that could inspire me send them to my inbox 😩😩🦋🦋

[napping-sapphic]

Actually i’m really good at giving forehead kisses i can’t really explain it though……probably needs a demonstration for me to prove it…..you know if you want………

[emilylprentiss]

The Rookie | 5.16 | Exposed

[negrowhat]

Highkeyyyyyyyy Cocomelon and Way are the same type of guy...