#take these humble offerings 🤲🤲🤲

[alliebirb]

cringe compilation 🐀

[itsladyliv]

“I just expect better of myself and others I spend time with. Why would you want to hang out with a stuck up bitch anyway?” He grinned at me. “Cause you’re hot.” I rolled my eyes. “And you’re shallow. Be careful, there are some puddles with more depth in this dead-end town. They don’t take kindly to competition.” He laughed at that. “Don’t worry, you won’t get rid of me that easily. I have a queen bitch to win over.” “Give her my condolences.” “Just say them into a mirror, she’ll get them.” That made me snort, trying not to laugh.

━ Tammy Thompson Takes on the Upside Down, CHAPTER 39 by @asirensrage 💙

[fatescaprice]

waddles into here and waves( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ henlo argenti's rose!! Tis I! May I ask for how cuddles would be like with Jing Yuan?(have been thinking about how warm his large hands would feel,,(//ω//)and in turn,how nice his hugs would be,,) aheem aheem. ALSO DINK OITER AND TAKE BREAKS IF YOU HAVEN'T OR IM SENDING UR WIVES AFTER YOU <3

cuddling with jing yuan

content warnings: none

note: hello my fav general kisser!!!! here is my humble offering 🤲 i was supposed to get it done sooner but sniping the others was also fun and then i got distracted by Assessments . anyways now it's your turn!!!! cocks my gun . i hope u enjoy :]

reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💜

JING YUAN holds you with the strength and steadiness expected of a general — his arms wrapped securely around your waist, his hand pressed warm against the small of your back.

Cuddling you is some of the best sort of stress relief for him, too. After a long day at the Seat of Divine Foresight he’ll often go seeking you out, giving you a calm, close-eyed smile that just about promises neither of you will be moving until he’s inevitably called back in for something tomorrow morning. What can he say? He just feels so secure feeling your arms around him, or vice versa.

He’s quite catlike about it all, in a way — warm, somewhat clingy, prone to falling asleep on top of you and refusing to move afterwards. He’s like a living weighted blanket in that sense. He just loves nuzzling closer to you, too, smiling against your skin as he holds you closer to his chest.

On that note, he doesn’t care much about big spoons or little spoons much at all. They’re all equally beneficial to him, so it’s largely up to you. Jing Yuan is just a bit biased towards being a big spoon or cuddling facing you, though — he loves being able to kiss the back of your neck, or watch how your nose scrunches up as his hair tickles your cheek.

But, of course, any alternative where he can hear your steady breathing next to him, feel your hand brushing over his back, is one he’s guaranteed to enjoy. Now, dear, he'll say, his laugh a low rumble of thunder in his chest, just let him hold you until morning, okay?

[vldlance]

happy birthday to ultimate klance cheerleader @klance-daydreams and congrats on 850 followers! ❤️💙 i'm so happy to be your friend and i hope you can take this humble offering to your DTIYS 🤲

[fleuraimer]

…. perhaps a harry x reader blurb to spare 🤲 i will take anything u want to give me. fluff or smut or both or neither ❤️❤️❤️❤️ u rock and my name is also evelyn so i feel bonded to u

u've absolutely made my day with this evelyn :((( i hope you like what i've concocted bestie, she's kinda all over the fucking place, but nonetheless, i hope you enjoy <33

wc: 2k

cw: not much, super fluffy, mildly (perhaps majorly) suggestive. not suitable for ramadan!! not proofread. lmk if i missed anything pls!!

Spring is here.

Fucking finally.

All the seasons were lovely to Y/N, each offered something the others didn’t—couldn’t. But spring was different. Special.

Like him.

Like Harry.

Perhaps that’s why her love for it blossomed like the tulips lining her bedroom window; there was something about seeing her usually soft boyfriend get ten times softer as leaves started to sprinkle branches, blades of grass flashed a vibrant green once more, and the sun kissed the earth that got to her tender heart.

It was especially difficult to not melt when he’d planned a small outing for them, centered around the perfectly warm weather. Instead of waiting until nightfall and driving to some stuffy restaurant (although their dinner dates were never anything less than exquisite), they walked hand-in-hand down the boulevard in broad daylight, gentle wisps of wind the only thing surrounding them, as well as the quiet conversation of other passersby.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t have to. They were perfectly content to relish in the mere presence of one another—soak in the rays of sun, and warmth. Love.

Thumbs gave mindless, delicate strokes against the back of palms, rucking up rings, kissing knuckles in apology, and putting them back in place, just to repeat it all over again. The knitted fabric of Harry’s cardigan is soft when it brushes against Y/N’s bare arm (she decided that it was absolutely perfect weather to slip on her favorite flowy sundress, cinched at the waist and flared at the hips, printed with obnoxiously serene-looking flowers and hummingbirds, with a square neckline that farmed the intricate necklace Harry bought her for their second anniversary quite stunningly), but his hand in hers was softer. Better.

Said hand tugs on hers, urging her away from the beaten path and into the ravine of tall, never-ending trees—willows and oaks; sycamores, birches, and maples, too. She resists, no less. Looks down at the cobblestone beneath her soles, and the cute kitten heels that (in her humble opinion) tie her whole spring-era look together.

She pouts.

And then a head of chocolate obscures her view of the pristine, white triangle toes. A hand placed both respectfully and salaciously on her ankle, coaxing her foot to slip from its confines, makes her breath catch in her suddenly dry throat.

Her kind eyes glaze over, ever so slightly.

“Y’don’t have’t—”

“I want to, Bellissima.”

Her shoe slips from her foot with a soft clatter on the ground when he manages to pry her sole from the earth, but it barely registers in her brain. In fact, everything else seems to fade away into the lovely spring that encompasses them when Harry guides his hand further up, along her fleshy calf, and leans in to place a chaste, staggering kiss to the bridge of her foot.

She wobbles, but they both know it’s not because she’s been left to balance on one foot.

Harry smiles, faint—the crater in his stubbled cheek is nearly invisible—and nudges his nose along the smooth skin of her leg.

He works diligently (as diligently as one can when removing a shoe) to rid Y/N of her footwear, relieving her of any worry or pain.

He looks pleasantly boyish when he looks up at her, smiles all cheeky, and winks for good measure. Kneeling on cobblestone in a worn pair of jeans, suede, dirty Adidas, and a vintage band tee that smells of stale coffee, Chanel No. 5 (one of many preferred perfumes of Y/N), and sex no matter how many times they run it through the wash; the green of his seafoam eyes twinkling in the sunlight, sunnies pushing his hair back, and yet one rogue curl still bends and twirls with the wind, falling in a perfectly aesthetic spiral when it settles…

Soft. Boyfriend. Hers.

Her Harry.

He stands to his full height, and they’re much closer than she’d thought they would be, but she’s certainly not complaining. Where before she stood at (about) Harry’s collarbone, now her head barely reaches the underside of his pecs. Her neck strains to keep eye contact as he slips his free hand back into her awaiting palm, the latter of which occupied with their stuffed picnic basket, and now her precious kitten heels.

“Need me to carry you?” He asks, ready to suffer at least a week’s worth of back pain if it meant he’d keep that love-struck, glowy, adorable (subby, stupid, filthy) look on his girl’s face.

Y/N’s eyes widen subtly, though enough for Harry to notice, and he can’t help but have to stifle a chuckle at her bashful demeanor.

“No, thank you,” she squeaks, and now she’s the one tugging his hand, urging them into the abyss of greenery, away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

The grass feels soft, ticklish, between her powder pink painted toes; she feels her lips stretch into a small grin because of it. They walk idly until they find a soft patch of vividly green grass directly under a tree, kissed fleetingly by the rays of sunlight peaking through the gaps of branches and leaves.

Harry lets his hand fall from Y/N’s (and can’t help but feel slightly colder because of it) to unpack their picnic basket. He grabs the signature red gingham picnic blanket from its place in the basket, releasing its folded form with a flourish. The material floats gracefully through the air until settling on the grass, near gingerly with the way it stops at just the very tips of the blades.

He kicks his chin toward the blanket in invitation as he settles on top of it himself, beginning to remove the contents inside their basket. Sandwiches, fruits, veggies; assorted cheeses and meats, cake, and, arguable most important, wine. He wastes no time in popping the cork from the rouge, pouring a generous amount into each of the pinot noir glasses he’d carefully tucked in the picnic basket.

Y/N kneels onto the blanket, walking on her knees until Harry is within reach, and his incessantly grabby hands are (surprise, surprise!!) grabbing her. He hands her her wine glass and sets his off to the side for the time being, sliding his bear palms up the full of her thighs, the swell of her bum, small of her back…

She shivers as they pet down again, nails biting at her hips to grip and pull her into his lap.

“Too far,” he grumbles, nuzzling in the space where her neck and collarbone meet. He peppers soft kisses along the strong bone, inhaling the natural, overwhelming scent of her. His girl.

Y/N goes easily, sipping slowly at her red wine while her free hand comes up to his hair, fingers threading through the fluffy tendrils. She snatches his sunnies away when they block her half-hearted scalp massage, muttering delicate apologies when the bend of them gets stuck in his hair and he hisses at the sting.

“Sorry, Baby,” she winces herself, chucking the damned glasses onto the blanket when she’s gotten them loose, kissing along the crown of his head to soothe any ache.

She sips more, tart grape hitting her tongue, sugary plum sliding down her throat, strawberry slicking her lips. She’s borderline greedy with the way she downs it, but they’ve got nowhere to be. Only here. Just here. Now.

She twists in Harry’s laps to grab one of the homemade BLTs, offering the half she won’t stuff her fat gob with to Harry, which he politely accepts. They munch quietly, sharing soft smiles and love-sick kisses in between bites. Conversation is sparse, but not bad. Never bad. If anything, the weight of their words is heavier because they’re so few and far between.

They both like it that way, anyhow.

When their feast has dwindled down to nothing but a few fruits and cakes, Harry fishes his phone from his pocket, and reaches in the picnic basket to grab his trusty pair of wired headphones. Hooking them up to his phone, he looks expectantly to Y/N. She raises her brow, never one to move unprompted.

Harry smirks, “Come, Bellissima.”

Her heart flitters, her stomach flutters, and her eyes round out (Harry tries not to think about how fucking easy—). She crawls back to him, in a way that is unnecessarily intimate and innocent, and simultaneously astoundingly nasty, but he tucks the image into the deep, deep, dark recess of his mind so he doesn’t get arrested for public indecency. Saves it for later (call it his spankbank).

He tucks a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before handing her and earbud, and lying down on his side. She follows, the two inserting the device into their ears at the same time. Her head instantly floods with staggered strings and piano, static, and then bass. Saxophone and acoustic guitar being delicately plucked, followed by a heady, gentle voice, similar to Bowie (but never as iconic).

“About You,” she whispers to him, her lips quirking.

Harry nods. Smiles, “The 1975.”

As the music progresses—the subtle vibrato of Matty Healy’s croon, the crescendo of each instrument and sound blending together to create one beautiful, extravagant, mind-bending symphony—Y/N swears she can see all five oceans in his eyes. The clear, breathtaking reefs, the lines that separates it from the rest of the water, dividing the calm from the chaos, the serene from the danger. She sees the deep, the unknown she wishes the dive further into, explore and discover, treasure for nothing but her own heart. And the seafoam that crashes up against the shore, the way it bubbles with joy and glistens in the light of the sun at the horizon, ever so fleeting as it washes back down the grains of sand.

She sees it all.

“S’pretty,” she mumbles, scooting closer as much as she can.

Harry wraps the arm not tucked under his head around her waist, pulling her closer. His eyes flit dazedly between her two.

She may see the ocean, but he sees the sky. The constellations, laid out for him beautifully, his for the taking. His.

He nods, “S’pretty.” Bumps his nose childishly against hers, smiles softly, triumphantly, when it scrunches up. His eyebrows pull together in the center, and he huffs a breath through his nose, “S’fucking gorgeous, Stellina.”

His mouth is on her before she can ask for a translation (there’s only some many Italian pet names a girl can recall) tongue prodding at the seem of her lips until they give way and he can slide the wet muscle against her own. She tastes of their shared wine and vanilla buttercream, and he tastes of fresh peaches, mozzarella, and tangy balsamic vinegar. And yet, somehow, it mixes together to create something new, something better, arguably. He fits her bottom lip between his two, nipping and sucking at the plump flesh, pulling breathy whimpers and faint moans from his lover. His grunts and groans in response are no less self-deprecating (they were both, admittedly, getting extremely hot over a couple of third date level kisses).

Neither paid it much mind, however. Especially not when Harry flips around so he’s lying on his back and she’s pressed firmly against his torso, belly’s melding, chests grazing. Y/N can’t stifle her soft gasp at the heavy weight of Harry against her inner thigh, but she can’t reprimand him, for she is no better—there’s a puddle in the gusset of her panties.

“Harry,” she whines, lashes fluttering when his hands find the swell of her bum and squeeze through the flimsy fabric of her sundress.

“G'na take y'home now, Bellissima,” he husks against her open mouth, tongue flicking at the swollen mess. “Fuck you the way y'deserve for being such a good girl today—” She bristles, rocking into him and crying out softly because of it. “—and if y'keep it up, we’ll go to tha’ cute little flee market y'keep tellin’ me about, yeah?”

She’s being bribed with his (impeccable; divine; otherworldly) cock and her love for all things vintage.

“Can we go to the botanical garden, too?”

Harry snorts, issues a teasing spank to her bum that makes her squeal, but smiles, nevertheless. “Sure, Baby, whatever y'want.”

(Impeccable; divine; otherworldly) Cock, a flee market, and a botanical garden?

She’s in heaven. In happiness. In full bloom.

She fucking adores spring.

[redstrewn]

More musa fanfic time😈

So I hc ais to have this thing for feeding mc (idk he just has the vibes+ i think he’d like to lowkey treat us like he treats his pets lmao) I offer you a humble scenario;

Smoke break

In order to earn some money/feel like you don’t owe Leander you offer to clean the wick up a bit. The morning of your shift the barkeep shoves a tasteful maid uniform your way and urges you to change. It looks a bit embarrassing, but nothing too bad. But when you exit your room once again you see Ais standing there with a broom, in the same uniform. It looked good on him, unfairly so. He looks you up and down in what seems an excruciatingly slow pace, grins, and offers you a “looking good, sparrow.” That marks the start of the shift. After a bit of work Ais excuses himself. “Smoking break.” And then he leaves through the backdoor.

You close the door behind you slowly as to not alert your temporary employer, then you greet the bastard slacker with a frown. “How long is this smoke break supposed to be?”

“Until the smoke’s finished”

“Until I’ve finished up all the work”

“Until you came to find me”

Why did he always have these vaguely sentimental lines to use against you?

“Fine. Do you have something to tell me?”

“No”

Bastard. You huff and he grins.

“Well, hurry up”

“Why not help me then”

Your eyes trace the cigarette as it’s pulled from Ais’ lips and is extended to yours. You feel nervous and hesitant. This would be your first ever smoke and you weren’t ready to commit to addiction.

“Nervous?”

“Yea”

You were hyperaware of the intimate air that suddenly surrounded you two. How did you even get here? Ais doesn’t retract it. You look at him and find his gaze fixed on your mouth. You look at his hand and see he’s urged the thing closer to your lips.

“Say aaa”

Without thinking you open your mouth slightly. Ais slips the cigarette through your lips.

You want to kick yourself. Why did that work?

You look at Ais and he see he’s very satisfied with himself. Bastard. You want to move away but he keeps his fingers firmly against your lips as he hold that damn thing firmly in your mouth. Goddamn. Bastard.

“Now inhale”

Without any other option, you obey.

It tastes godawful.

“Now exhale through your nose”

You choke and cough. Ais snorts. You want to kick him and then yourself.

“Fuck you”

You look up at him again, glaring. He finally gets the damn cigarette out of your face. His eyes seem fond as he looks you over. It takes you aback.

“Break’s almost over sparrow”

He slips the cigarette trough his lips, lightly touching the lipstick stain you left on it. He looks in your eyes and inhales, shoulders all relaxed. You tense up and look away in shame and excitement.

Thank you for the food 🤲

[gardenbastard]

my design final wip, horsey!! , morgana painting, minecraft oc, and ren faire knight ! been busy with college so take my humble little offerings 🤲

[itsmakingyoucry]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/49077778 <- an angsty Merthur fic as a humble offering

I take this offering and offer a “will definitely read!” In return 🤲

[orbitfalls]

HELLO I JUST REALIZED I NEVER SENT YOU AN ASK SCREAMING ABOUT ULTRAVIOLENCE CHAPTER THREE WHICH IS CRIMINAL BUT IM HERE NOW

first of all TRANS REGULUS MY LOVE second of all i saw that you might include jegulus in the fic and i am humbly kneeling at your altar with an offering of honey and red wine begging 🙏🙏🙏

“Narcissa and Arcturus were one and the same.” YES THEY WERE

regulus starting and ending his life in the water please please please let him be happy let him live please i’m begging you i’ll give you a cookie a kiss a million dollars anything🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂🙂

“Narcissa was still in her little nightgown as she stumbled through the dining room and peeked her head through the wide open door to catch a glimpse of the garden.” SHES SO CUTE WHAT IF I THROW UP

bella telling cissy she is a black just like her and andy😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭AND THE PLEASE PARALLELS AHHHHFHDHSJDJF

oh my god i have so many feelings about walburga and regulus SO MANY OH MY GOD

gnawing on the bars of my enclosure chomping on rock salt chewing drywall this was so fucking good

HELLO ASTRA MY BELOVED

TRANS REGULUS YES AAAAA it makes so much sense to me idc that this is a canon compliant story (besides it isn’t rly cuz I will CARVE my own way through the storyline later on sksjjsjs) it’s just sooooo obvious to me that he has that side of himself to explore. ALSO sorry but I fear I’ll have to kill him off when the time comes… sorrows sorrows prayers… anything for the plot right 😭😭 I’ll happily take the cookie and the kiss and the million dollars anyway tho . if you don’t mind🤲

NARCISSA IN HER LITTLE NIGHTGOWN HELP SHES SUCH A MISERABLE VICTORIAN ORPHAN I WANNA EAT HER😭😭 AND HER AND BELLA AND BELLA AND WALBURGA AND WALBURGA AND REGULUS AND NARCISSA AND REGULUS BEING CARBON COPIES OF ONE ANOTHER GUARDS UNHAND THEM!!!! SEIZE THEM GUARDS

Ilyilyily TBANK U for making me blush SJSHSJSHSH kicking my feet possibly proposing if you don’t mind😌🫶 please marry me astra my hand is yours to take🫡🫡

[itiswellpsychotherapy]

The Anatomy of a Good Apology

Hey Friends,

Apologizing can be challenging for many people, but it's essential to recognize that the ability to offer a sincere apology and take accountability for one's actions is a powerful tool for personal growth 💪🌱.

Learning the anatomy of a proper apology can be transformative, helping to mend relationships and fostering self-improvement.

Here’s what many people feel passes as an apology:

"I'm sorry, but..." - This type of apology negates the sincerity of the apology by introducing an excuse or justification.

"Sorry, it was just a joke." - This apology dismisses the other person's feelings and implies they are overreacting.

"I'm sorry you feel that way." - This is a classic non-apology that puts the blame on the other person's reaction rather than taking responsibility for one's actions.

Here's how to do it instead:

Clearly and sincerely express regret: Start by acknowledging the pain or inconvenience you've caused (e.g., "I'm sorry that I hurt you...") 😔

Take responsibility: Own up to your actions and the consequences they've had (e.g., "I'm sorry that I did 'X') 🎯.

Explain how you'll rectify the situation: Outline the steps you'll take to make amends and avoid repeating the same mistake (and of course, follow through on those steps) 📈.

Ask for forgiveness: Humbly request forgiveness (e.g., "Will you forgive me?"), but remember, it's ultimately up to the other person to decide whether or not to grant it 🙏🤲

Mastering the art of apology can lead to stronger relationships, better communication, and a deeper understanding of yourself and others 💬. It's a crucial skill to cultivate as we navigate the complexities of life and interpersonal dynamics.

🚨 Spreading Wellness Challenge 🚨

Send this blog link to at least 2 people you care about so that they can have a chance to increase their wellness too!

Stay connected with me here.

[iamvegorott]

GOOD DAY, KIND VEGGIE. May I offer you some humble unexpected talents/hobbies that the egos have? 🤲

Imagine Robbie and finger painting. It doesn’t always look the best, but he’s always having so much fun and the image of him running up to one of the egos and happily showing them a finger painting of them is SO CUTE

CJ is into photography and RJ accompanies him every day as a second opinion on the pictures. Imagine CJ taking a picture of a butterfly and RJ is quietly narrating whatever is happening up until the butterfly flies off of whatever surface it was on. They’re both running after it and RJ’s just yelling about how it’s getting away.

Dark TOTALLY plays the piano. It’s another thing to add to his list of emo things, but he’s really good at it. He’ll play a piece for Anti whenever he asks about it, and Anti just likes seeing content with just listening to the sounds of the piano and effortlessly gliding his hands along the keys.

Host plays the violin, and you cannot tell me otherwise. No one knows how he even learned to play it, but they don’t bother asking. Sometimes he’ll join in on Dark’s piano playing and it’ll sound awesome <3

— 🦋

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!!

Robbie with his finger paints just 😭 ❤️

And the twins with their butterfly!

Dark and Host playing music together

AAHHHH 💕💕💕

[7-oh-ta1]

FOR THE ASK GAME YOU SHARED !!!

GIMME your thoughts on juban 👐

Oooooo I'm down!!!!!!! Here you go: 🤲🍡🎰 My humble thots....

When I started shipping it if I did: ...The handcuff sequence.... 😔 I know. I KNOW... JUST A LITTLE BIT I was still upset with how Banri acted at the auditions but?? They were literally in a 4k enemies to lovers right then! (And always?)

My thoughts: I don't know if I can offer any insight that someone else already hasn't, but I do think it's interesting that this is possibly one of the most if not THE most shipped couple in the fandom! Honestly I think it's the way they talk about each other rather than to each other. 🤼‍♂️ It takes a lot to make me want to compete so I do find it a little exhausting like. 😩 So I could never imagine myself in their shoes!

What makes me happy about them: Oh, the usual!! I like that they push each other forward in acting, and I like that initially they don't get along and are pulled together by the story. I especially liked the part after Juza's first portrait, because the audience chose him and Banri had to stop being so prideful for a second and reevaluate. Equally, after Banri's portrait Juza compliments him and starts to see him a little differently. Those moments are what makes it worth it imo :)

What makes me sad about them: I guess... it's just not appealing to imagine having someone antagonize me for the rest of my life, never relaxed, always "on", always ready to fight, and WORSE I live with them. ○_○ I know they fuel each other, but damn I just want to relax and eat sweets without somebody in my ear making fun of me for it!! Oi vey!

Things done in fanfic that annoy me/that I look for: PLS I know it's a crime in fandom but I don't read much fanfic 🤘😔🤘

Who I'd be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: As we know, I like Bansaku! But I also like KyuBan~ For Juza, tbh I think he's just fine on his own because he wants to focus on acting. Maybe Sakuya if Banri's not with him? 🤭 But it still feels unlikely

My happily ever after for them: Lort, they're just going to fight forever, aren't they? Yes, yes they are. I don't see any "settling down" somewhere nice for them. Both of them are fueled by acting and each other, so I could see Juza moving on to a different theater company when the time wistfully comes to say goodbye to Mankai, with Banri following right behind him. He just can't shake this guy off! The weird thing is that he doesn't want to. Will they hop countries? Will they kill each other? Will they get married? Who knows! They'll have a good time either way.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon: Be honest, prideful people are always secretly little spoons! They feel like they have to compensate for it but it's literally just fine and no one cares. By that I mean, I think they would switch often like any couple does but Juza mains big spoon after the fight for it.

What is their favorite (non-sexual) activity: Beating the hell out of each other? Both literally and in acting. Oh, romantically!! ......The answer's still the same. 😶