#never change darling

[thefisherqueen]

Douglas was a remarkable man, both in character and in person. In age he may have been about fifty, with a strong-jawed, rugged face, a grizzling moustache, peculiarly keen gray eyes, and a wiry, vigorous figure which had lost nothing of the strength and activity of youth.

Watson: it is so important I tell you how attractive this murdered man was

[razzodile]

Saw this yume prompt of imagining your F/O taking care of a plush version of themselves. Really cute idea till I remembered that Sombra became easily jealous of his plush self, started to be verbal violent to him leading to drowning the poor doll, and then became paranoid of the idea that the plush is alive and is ploting it's revenge against him... I love his stupid ass

[moyazaika]

morning glory; tw yandere, gn reader, mdni 18+

the sun is shining, and the morning sky is a promising, pale blue; you are staring down at the stack of hot pancakes on your plate, to avoid looking at him.

completely unperturbed by your close proximity, he’s standing behind your seat at the table, leaning over; warm arms caging you in on either side as he drizzles sweet, chocolate syrup onto the golden face of the topmost pancake, so that it forms the shape of—

“a heart,” he smiles, “for the love of my life.”

“thank you.”

“don’t mention it.” he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. “dig in, darling.”

this fork in your hands, you consider silently, turning it over; should you jab it into his neck?

after he’s made your plate, he sits down in front of his own, across from you. after all of his extensive doting and fussing over you, his own food’s gone cold, but he either doesn’t seem to notice, or he simply doesn’t mind.

you don’t care enough to ask.

he takes slow, thoughtful bites of his own breakfast. you observe, with a bemused sort of awe, the care with which he breaks off the pancake in measured portions, before ensuring each spoonful carries a blueberry, and is dipped in the chocolate syrup.

fork in his mouth, he meets your gaze; takes his sweet time savouring the taste of his food, swallows, smiles at you expectantly. “something on my face, love?”

you turn back to your own plate, completely untouched. “no.”

“alright.” the sound of his fingers, drumming against the dining table. “be a darling and fetch me the milk, will you?”

he’s never allowed you to leave the table until you’ve finished all your food. he’s never even allowed you into the kitchen before. you look up at him warily, voice hushed, “..why?”

“i’d like something to drink, is all.”

you stand very carefully, the grating sound of your chair scraping against the floor making you wince. he says nothing, and so you take that as your cue to take a few hesitant steps into the kitchen.

when you step over the boundary where the wooden floorboards give way to checkered tiles, you turn over your shoulder, suddenly very unsure of what to do next.

“the milk…?”

he’s watching you still, chin resting on interlaced fingers, elbows on the table; even though he was the one who first instructed you that doing so was bad manners.

“yes, love.” he smiles patiently. “should just be in the fridge.”

“okay.”

you’ve never been alone in the kitchen before. never really had any reason to when he insists on making all of your meals. you know you’re technically being supervised even now, but it still feels strange to reach for the fridge handles and just—

“open it.”

you oblige.

you’ve gotten used to it, perhaps.

the cold air hits you in the face as soon as the doors swing open. it takes a moment for your gaze to flitter over all of the different compartments and containers before you catch sight of the milk, and—

why…?

the hair on your skin stands on end.

you read the words once, in a quiet shock.

then another time, as if you simply must’ve read them wrong the first time. you’re in disbelief, going back to the first letter—

your heart drops.

this can’t be happening to you.

—again

—again.

this can’t be happening to you.

your legs give out beneath you.

—and the very moment they do, warm hands, smelling faintly of pancake batter, are there to collect you; keep holding you up, as strong arms wrap themselves right around your body. his kind voice cuts straight through your thoughts. “what’s wrong, my love?”

“that’s…” you raise a shaking finger, point into the fridge. it’s more of a question, the second time around. “that’s…?”

he follows the direction in which you’re pointing, and then he lets out a sigh you can only describe as polite; a dismissive acknowledgement of your distress with no attempt, nor interest, in providing an explanation.

both of you stare at the milk carton where it sits in the fridge, right next to the fruit juice you like so much—beneath the logo, which you’ve traced over a thousand times, bored out of your mind at the breakfast table—is a picture.

an old image of you. younger. smiling.

free.

one word printed beneath the picture, in blocky black letters that take up half of the carton’s packaging, completely impossible to miss—

MISSING

there’s fine print beneath that, even. a smaller string of letters you can’t even begin to read, seeing as it feels like your own world’s tilted sideways; knocked right out of balance. completely off-kilter.

he understands this.

that is why, then, he decides to do it for you.

“town left devastated,” he reads evenly, “over sudden, unexplained disappearance of beloved, active member of community, who vanished without a trace last fall. family members plead with those who may have any information to call the national missing person’s hotline for handsome reward.”

the silence stretches on for a moment, so that the soft, low hum of the refrigerator is the only sound in the house.

“how unfortunate,” he murmurs, tone an imitation of empathy. “the world is only growing unsafer by the day, my love, and this is why,” he brushes your hair out of your face. “i need to keep you so close.”

he closes the refrigerator doors, and carries you out of the kitchen. so completely absorbed in your own shock, you’d neglected to even realise that at some point, he must’ve picked you right up; swept you off your two, very own feet.

“i can’t imagine losing you like that,” he shudders. “i can’t imagine if something like that happened to you, my love.”

he sets you down, very gently, into your seat at the breakfast table. your arms hang limp by your sides, limbs having completely given up on you; so he carefully folds your hands in your lap. pulls out a chair right besides you, and reaches for your cutlery.

“don’t fret over it, darling. as long as you’re with me,” he smiles, cutting into your cold food. “i promise i’ll always keep you safe, and take very good care of you.”

you observe the deliberation with which he breaks off the pancake in measured portions, before ensuring each spoonful carries a soft blueberry, and is dipped in the runny chocolate syrup.

“now open wide, darling.”

you oblige.

what else is there to do?

“try not to think about it too much, my love,” he hums, watching the way your lips fall around the fork, “there is, after all, no use crying over spoilt milk.”

you chew very slowly, taking your time to break the pancake down into something smaller. his eyes, which had been trained on the movement of your throat, now rise to meet yours—

and even though across the table, his plate sits empty: there is, you note, a faint hunger in them.

“wouldn’t you agree, darling?”

the food in your mouth tastes rotten; you don’t answer.

he only smiles patiently in response, as if he has all the time in the world.

the worst part of it all is that outside, you know that the sun is still shining, and the morning sky remains, even now, the same shade of a promising, pale blue.

[titsthedamnseason]

eras tour lookbook: my favorites edition

[sysig]

Do not separate them /threatening (Patreon)

[bevioletskies]

gemini & fourth (in every universe) ↳ gun falling into tinn's arms vs. atom falling into kongthap's arms

“Would you be interested in dancing with me to a song?”

[lifemod17]

Tonee I've just heard Hozier's cover of Do I Wanna Know? on the radio and oh my God. I genuinely cannot describe how lovely of an experience that was??

His voice is so smooth, the backing vocals are heavenly, and he's made the song sound so soft? So loving??

Be right back I need to bury myself. Wake me up when Spring comes. Jesus

Oh to be able to experience listening to Hozier's cover of Do I Wanna Know? all over again for the first time 🥹💛

Actually you know what? I'm putting it here if I have any other mutuals who would like to give it a listen and/or anybody who wants to listen to it again for no other reason than "just because":

Of course I had to gif my favorite parts:

His sweet little smile!!! || if the universe doesn't want me to make more hand content, the camera man shouldn't have zoomed in

[knightzp]

HAPPY SEVEN BRIDGES RITSUMAO DAY ON ENGSTARS!!!!

[blindmagdalena]

I've seen two youtubers so far that insist Homelander doesn't love Ryan, and it is driving me nuts.

that's pretty embarrassing for them

[pencilpat]

Silly puppet guy and silly human version of the puppet guy

[arliarolli]

OC art. ^_^ (NO, SHE ISN'T FURINA DE FUCKING FONTAINE — WHO EVEN IS THAT?!)

More bad art down below.

[e1ght-b1t]

Agvkdfnjifvdjnivefjnedi?? More self insert??

Yes :)

[thecolourfulkingdom]

I present you the most cursed images

OF WALLY WITH A NOSE.

Somebody tell Clown that I'm sorry but I just had to know how Wally will look with a nose. OTL So I edited the banner of Welcome Home page so that Wally would have noses of other neighborhood members.

[kuunibal]

Me shopping with my sister: “You have been at Forever 21 for the past hour. I’m going to stay and read here, finish in 10 minutes or I’ll leave.”

Me shopping with my darling: *holding all her bags* *following her around the store* *holding all the hangers of clothes she plans on trying* *taking pictures of her for no reason* *complimenting her non-stop while she tries on outfits* *paying for all her things without looking at the price tag*

[shadowedvales]

jane does not accept sara hopper’s hair tie as a gift from jim, and not once does she wear it around her wrist. people often get the impression that because of her sheltered upbringing, jane is dumb, or doesn’t understand social cues, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. once she finds out about sara, about how jim lost her, she would come to understand that’s why he was so protective of her in the cabin, why it became toxic and overbearing. she doesn’t excuse his behaviour, but begins to understand it. she understands that he was projecting his dead daughter onto her. after she’s recovered from closing the gate, and he offers her the hair tie, she gently places it back into his hand, saying “i am janessa. not sara.” it’s important she starts growing into her own person, that she stops wearing hand-me-downs and that she definitely does not wear something his biological child owned. jane asks about sara a lot because she wants to get to know her in her own way, she wants to see photographs and hear stories, but she does not ever want to be her. jim is not her father, jane is not his daughter. they both come from broken, fragile families, and have made a new one with each other, but should not be replacing the ones they’ve lost.

[jesting-bug]

A true artist🍎 steals those lil paint colour paper thingys from Walmart and glue them into their sketchbook