#been in my drafts for way too long

[moonshine999]

[panthermouthh]

And I said, “Hello, Satan

I believe it’s time to go.”

[whatstheoccasion]

"You are the rock on which I stand, Steady me, please take my hand, Hold me now until the break of day."

— Charles Wiles.

Pirates don't help people, he used to spit. I was not born into this world to help anyone.

Yet, as the fabric of your shirt softly shifts up your skin making you shiver, Law finds himself unable to stop the hand raising his blanket, keeping you warm.

You're not just people, though, he poorly excuses himself. You're more than just anyone to him.

Which is why he pretends to not notice how clingy you get when the sun's barely peeking through the windows, warm and bright enough to make out the shape of your face, features he awkwardly traces with the tip of his fingers, finding himself needing the intimacy, this closeness with you.

He cherishes these slight pieces of yourself you only show him. Asleep, vulnerable and soft to the touch, trusting this callous man to keep your dreams safe, Law has to bite his tongue to hold himself from repeating the same three little words to you like a fool.

He chastises himself for even thinking about it.

And then you start to wake up, with bloated cheeks and messy hair, your eyes still fighting sleep, and God, it's useless, Law thinks. It's an urge too hard to resist– but he refuses to say it out loud. He's content with protecting you as it is, tightening his blanket around you and trying to fix your hair.

Will it be too much for you, he wonders, impatiently waiting for your eyes to fully open, if he physically gives you his heart to keep, to protect?

"Law?"

You shove your face further down his neck, eyes scrunching in a tender way that makes Law's hands clench and unclench with the need to touch.

He hums low on his chest in response, bringing your body closer to his. When you don't continue, eyes closing again, he grumbles out, "Morning."

He feels your smile on his neck, one sleepy kiss pressed against it. "Good morning, love."

It hurts.

Up to this day, Law's guilt clenches with a vice-like grip around his chest, reminding him how he doesn't deserve this warmth, this forgiveness you give him.

It's a hole his heart still aches to fill– this disgusting need for affection, a need he can't allow himself to ask for out loud, but one he desperately looks for anyways.

When you're out and about on a new island, linking pinkies and pressing your side against his, teasing him for his pink cheeks and burning glare.

Aflot in the Polar Bear, dragging his tired self up deck to get some much needed sun in his system, his palms tingling where your hands held him.

On nights he's blessed with your pleasure, where he's insatiable until he makes you his– unsatisfied until every part of you is marked with his name, his traces.

So when you pull him closer to you now, he doesn't say a word. He doesn't tease you like he would any other day, doesn't call you out on how your body seems to always gravitate towards his– today he's not sure if his good intentions would come clear enough, and what if one last remark is what pushes you to finally leave him for good?

Law instinctively holds you closer, letting your body soothe his restless mind. You're here. You're staying. You love him.

You hug him even tighter in your sleep, entwining your legs together, impossibly closer to eachother. He's usually not positive for anything, but you're for sure a gift from his loved ones up above, because only those who cared for him enough could guide you to him.

He has one final thought before dozing off again, as the tiny fluttering of your eyelashes on his skin and the slight rise from the waves of the New World lull him to sleep, carrying so much fondness he doesn't even put up a fight when his eyes start to drop.

His heart is staying right where it belongs.

[mozquito]

kills u

[kaladinkholins]

the meaning behind the kanji of mizu and taigen's names is literally not ever gonna leave my mind.

like are you kidding me. mizu is 水 ("water"), we all know that. but what drives me insane is that taigen is 泰源 ("peaceful origin").

so when you put them together ("tai" 泰 + "mizu" 水), you literally get "peaceful water."

MIZU ALONE IS JUST MIZU, BUT PUT TAIGEN NEXT TO HER AND IT'S MIZU, BUT AT PEACE.

ALSO, both "tai" 泰 and "gen" 源 contain the "mizu" 水 character as a radical. for those unfamiliar with japanese or even chinese, a radical basically means a building block for another character; so in this case, the kanji for "tai" and "gen" both use the kanji for "mizu" as one of their building blocks.

this is also why, while "gen" 源 can refer to any general type of origin or source, it also specifically refers to a fountainhead: a source of water, or the origin of a river or stream.

and like yeah okay i know that it's a 99.9% chance that the creators didn't even think about any of this. but STILL. the brainworms have fully taken over and i am going CRAZY.

[boy-wonder-oncologist-fan]

As a fandom we need to talk more about the gayness on 8x02

[patrick-stewart]

Arian Moayed as Stewy Hosseini SUCCESSION | 1.03

[fruitxbat]

The way none of you will post all of the scans together... like would it kill you to just put them all in the same place <3

Source

[thelassoway]

Jason Sudeikis as Ted Lasso Season 3 » Casual Sweaters/Jumpers

[lengthofropes]

'cause in the end we're just reborn again 🩸🩸

[dateko]

[9:22 AM] GOJO SATORU ft. the fushiguro babies

There are wet and sticky kisses making their way along your neck from your jaw.

Stuck between your peaceful dreams and the material world, you’re unsure if you want the kisses to cease or to carry on for a lifetime. The little nips and low giggles that tickle you after each sweet peck has you realizing that you’re just about on the edge of reality, so you blindly swat away the mischievous owner of the citrus-stained lips. “Go away, ‘Toru,” You sink your face deeper into your pillow with a sigh. “I'm still sleeping.”

The kisses come to a halt, and you can see Satoru pout. Yes, even with your eyes closed shut. It’s a skill you’ve acquired after years of dating such a menace. Sometimes you wonder if you possess six eyes too. “What? Come on, I made us breakfast.” The sorcerer whines, rubbing his hands over your arms.

“Oh, I know... My hair is stuck to the orange juice on my neck.”

“Please? It’s good! I swear, Sweetheart.”

Craning your head to the side, you let your eyes escape from the pillow’s dark embrace and offer your lover a threatening squint before letting out a groan at both the sunlight and Satoru’s intrusive welcome in your bedroom. An idea pops into your mind, and you reach for Satoru’s hand, playing with it a little before tugging it towards you. “Hey, why don’t you stay in bed with me? It’s warm and cozy… And cuddles are offered here.”

Even with an offer as tempting as that, the sight of the small pout on your luscious lips with the low sound of your morning voice, your boyfriend continues to be unyielding and tenacious. If he was a lesser man, he would have died right there. But he was close. “Nice try, but there are pancakes waiting for you.”

Before Satoru could steal a chance to slip away, you tighten your grip on his hand and lace your fingers together. You make a point and statement by brushing your thumb across the top of his hand, knowing Gojo Satoru is one hopeless man. “Well, how ‘bout a kiss?” Pausing for effect, sitting up to face him with a devilish smile. “Two kisses? You can name your price.”

At this point, you’re fully awake. No longer is the debate about breakfast or cuddles in bed, but whose stubbornness overpowered the other. Your cheeks practically hurt from all the smiling you’ve done, batting your lashes up at your lover in hopes of getting your way. The expression he has on is enigmatic, he’s contemplating. You’d never get tired of teasing him. It was just so rare to get someone as powerful as him tied down and flustered like a young teenager you once knew.

This, you decide for the umpteenth time in your life, is what falling in love with Gojo Satoru is like.

Hiding your gasps whenever Satoru’s blue eyes stare into your own was a difficult task. It’s an all too inviting trance on its own and you have to focus your attention elsewhere to win against him. His larger hand copies your previous actions, thumb brushing the back of your hand slowly, coaxing you to look at him. You already know he’s smirking down at you.

“Oh yeah?” He leans in, voice dropping with his nose brushing against yours. “I might just have t-“

“Guys!” A little voice breaks the two of you apart and Satoru drops his forehead on you in defeat. You sigh happily knowing you’ve been freed from whatever thoughts Satoru’s been having and the terrible heated tension.

At the doorway, Tsumiki holds a small Megumi in one hand and her own orange juice in the other. “Gojo hurry! We waited all day for you!”

Confused, you watch your boyfriend laugh as he gets up from his defeated position. “Tsumiki, it's nine in the morning. You waited for eight minutes. But don’t worry! Y/n’s awake now.”

“W-what?”

Tsumiki pads to your side of the bed, dragging Megumi along with her excitedly. “You have to eat breakfast now! Hurry! We can’t wait anymore!” You’ve got no time to protest when little hands grab at your wrist, tugging you towards the kitchen. Behind you, Satoru is trailing behind with a merry chuckle, hands grabbing at your waist.

[19kisoir]

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hai guyss tysm for 100 followers, i cant believe it!!! its only been 3 months since i have posted in tumblr, and im so shocked that i have acheived this milestone in only a matter of time. I am so grateful for everyone of y'all for supporting me throughout these months thank u smm ilysm guys, tysm for supporting me, and tysm!!! <3 i will be hosting my first ever event in honor of this mile stone

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┈　 ⊹　how to join

must be following me

comment "joining" if ur joining

reblog and tag 2-3 moots

must be following me

dm me a number between 1-12, u must make a mb using the kdrama that i picked for u

when u make the mb, be sure to use #19kisoir : kdramas event and tag me

this event will end on january 20 (submissions have to be before that day)

u can use screenshots from the kdrama or anything, get as creative as u can!

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┈　 ⊹　event prizes

1st place : 80 reblogs, follow back, 2 headers, 2 custom mbs, half server set up

2nd place : 50 reblogs, followback, 1 headers, 1 custom mb

3rd place : 30 reblogs, followback, 1 header, 1 custom mb

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┈　 ⊹　fav blogs (not in any order):

@iluvrei @haesite @dreaminju @eundior @mazeui @umiena @chaeyve @h9erin @7yeris @ciawiasworld @i-h3rta @yeossemble @raeceah @baesol @wonery @k-hearts @kyeins @yeritos @nwtzy @narniaaas + wayy more

[chapinii]

Many on Quesadilla island believe that Fitmc was very much closeted to himself and the world up until he arrived on the QSMP, but perhaps that closet wasn't quite as locked as some may presume.

With the environment of 2b2t being so rife with hatred and homophobia, a deep and meaningful relationship was always out of the question. But within its depths lay the rub, of Fit, going through the all too familiar queer experience of being very aware of his sexuality against this toxic landscape, and knowing the possibility of others out there being just like him. Others whom he could never risk reaching out to in public, but longed to all the same.

He'd heard and seen his fair share of casual to severe homophobia, as well as witnessing with some amusement how the homoerotic tension some players swear against can tear factions apart. He knows all too well the irony that comes with a land so dominated by toxic masculinity and bigotry. This is a place where a man will stare you in the eyes, caress your cheek so gently, then spit in your face in disgust before insta-killing you. Of course, the price for outing somebody in such a place is a pretty penny for sure. Being a blank slate in the land of anarchy is your strongest asset. The last thing you want to do is throw fuel onto the fire and give people even more of a reason to put your head on a spike.

And so, he kept his feelings repressed- for the most part. He'd hide a blush as he melted internally over a handshake with a particularly muscular allied base leader. He'd allow himself the luxury of a poster, of an old Hollywood western starring a (very) dashing cowboy, that he'd stick crudely on the bedroom wall of wherever he'd end up staying for a while. But perhaps, just a couple times, he'd had a few small but significant experiences: the touch of a hand on his for just a fraction too long, warm eyes from a face he can't quite remember looking him up and down, all but rendering him breathless. Split second opportunities that would make those feelings bubble up to the surface, too strong to ever truly ignore. Being a lone mercenary in a world of anarchy is all well and good, but God does it get lonely.

He and Pac like to take things slow. It's a mutual decision. Neither of them have ever truly felt the need to sit down and discuss why. Fit wouldn't like him to know what he thinks about whenever the subject drifts towards the two of them going any further with their relationship. Every time Pac makes any kind of suggestive advance, heck, even if he looks at the man for too long, his mind can't help but think back to one quiet night on 2b2t, so many years ago. Flashes of encountering a stranger, deep underground, of a clumsy, desperate kiss. Stubble on stubble, the raw smell of dirt and sweat and cigarette smoke. He remembers the thrill, the terrifying electricity of it all, until a clatter was heard in the cave behind them and the moment was gone forever. It meant everything and nothing at the same time, that chance encounter. It was the closest he'd ever came to a real connection with somebody. He didn't know what became of the other man who so urgently whispered 'run', into his ear. He could have killed Fit right there, made a point of it, and yet he didn't. The mere memory of it petrified him, but by God, did he feel alive.

All the same, he didn't dare risk anything like that again. That was until he came to the QSMP, a place where he didn't have to hide himself from others, but still he airs on the side of caution. He's afraid of getting things wrong, of throwing himself into something he can't run away from. This isn't just some random encounter with a player in 2b2t. Pac is different. Fit knows he's got a past of his own, he sees how it torments him sometimes. What if daring to make a move, even kissing him opens up old wounds for the both of them?

Fit's no longer hiding in the dark. Making things 'official' with Pac is not a once in a lifetime chance, but the longer Fit hangs around him he feels like it is. He wants to keep Pac safe just as he kept himself safe for all those years. When he finally lets himself get closer to his roommate, one wrong move and another hypothetical cave noise could sound, followed by the form of something even more terrible that could rip the two apart forever and send Fit straight back to square one.

Slow and steady wins the race. Slow and steady keeps them both safe.

But God, what he'd give to feel that thrill again.

[mellowthorn]

15 years

[septembersung]