#your honor they're in love

[mcmuppet]

do you two need a moment alone?

[valkyrieinpink]

Little redraw from the Twitter sphere with some overlay help from the ghestie @cynibuns

[milesmoralesluvs]

then he asks me,

did you ever love me?

i tell him,

you have no idea how much

but i had meant to say,

ever? idiot, i still do.

-regulus black about james potter

[taylrartz]

Felt lonely so here’s a messy little Helion + Lady of Autumn practice🫶

[slytherqueern]

“This is a love story. A love story between a full-fledged psychopath and someone who has nascent psychopathic abilities . . . it’s a love relationship between two men: one of them is a cannibal, and one of them understands those cannibalistic instincts all too well.” -Bryan Fuller

[catboy-bride]

thinking about them

[violettehoneybee]

I'm a sucker for soft andreil hcs like them being all sappy and lovey- mwah give them happiness fr , so I took upon myself to draw soft andreil

[extant-exhaustion]

Don't you think it's funny cause actual canon gay characters in BL manga/manhwa will say "I love you" but only the shounen bromance can spew out some of the most romantic shit akin to a 19th century poet writing a letter expressing his surpressed love for his lover 😭.....

The “no homo…but” of sports manga/anime in particular (but a lot of shounen in general) is just so funny to me. I mean, there’s homoeroticism in all sports, but you watch sports anime and you get your main duo gazing into each other’s eyes swearing to do whatever it takes to fulfill the dream they share and it’s like, come on. A fist bump/high five might as well be the 1-to-1 substitution for the kiss that “straight” dudes can’t share on screen.

[estrangnoodle]

Symas brainrot is infecting me with my full consent. Not like I'm arguing against it.

[littlewitchbee]

Es war ein Traum

[klaissance]

ok um i have done it i've created a thing

pls enjoy

[auchaczer]

happy ending </3

[aonungsmate]

How about some quality time shit while brading Lo'aks hair where he's just so tired of sitting around so he leans against reader or lays down on her lap :3

Love u byeeee

How to Win a Girl's Heart

Lo'ak x Reader [Word Count: 0.7k]

This one's kinda bland, I blame college. Love you azalea<333!! Y'all need to pray for me honestly, there are so many requests I have to go through, college just won't let me lmao.

Warnings: None!

You grew up knowing the two of you would end up being the best of friends, not more than friends. Although you can't say you'd prefer your previous status than the current. You see all of him, as he sees you all the same. You would not know what to do if he were to suddenly disappear from your life, already having barged into every aspect of your life.

Sure, he had his moments but he would not be Lo'ak otherwise. Eywa knows you'd devour even the most poisonous plants for him, even despite knowing the consequences.

“Ow–!”

"Maybe if you stop moving so much, it won't hurt," looping another strand of Lo'ak's hair, you squinted in focus.  As if to prove your point, he tried adjusting his position again only to hiss when you accidentally pulled on his braids, "Why won't you listen to me, my love?".  You paused to crawl and face him, "I’m sorry.. Does it still hurt, Lo’ak?”  

He stared at you through his  eyelashes, a glint of mischief evident on his eyes making you squint back at him.   Wondering just what he’s about to do, you sighed in anticipation knowing his everlasting history with trouble.  You can never say no to him though.   You found that out the hard way when he asked you for courtship.  You don’t think your heart would be able to handle it well if you were to refuse the sole reason as to why it’s beating in the first place.  

The moment he licked his lips you swore you almost went to Eywa.  He’s doing it.  The thing that holds great power over you.  

Dear Eywa, he’s pouting.

Lo’ak is very adventurous, daring.  He could offer you the greatest harvest from the highest tree he could climb and that would not sway you even the slightest.  He could hunt you the biggest sturmbeest, and it would not be enough to make you rethink your prior decisions.  

But the thing he’s currently doing?

You pray to Eywa that she gives you the strength to not smooch him into suffocation.

“Is it working?” he grinned, fangs showing from side to side, making you scoff at him.  Though a smile was granted to him immediately, urging your beloved to lean his weight on you, sliding downwards until his head was exactly snug on your stomach, his shoulders against your crossed legs.  He sighed in satisfaction, tail whisking, lightly brushing against your ankles, “Is there something bothering you?” you asked, worry furrowing your eyebrows when he closed his eyes with a carefree smile.  

“I am just happy to spend time with you, ma (y/n)” the endearment only worsened the growing blush on your cheeks.  You giggled slightly when Lo’ak puckered his lips at you, one eye opening to stare up at you with a knowing glint on his eye.  You rolled your eyes, giving into him, your lips brushing against his in a feathery motion as he cradled your face with his left hand, all five fingers against your face making you grip at his pinky, humming against his soft lips, slightly chapped yet still so soft, softer than the recent threads you have used with Kiri earlier in the day.  

His presence radiates more light than the bioluminescent plants in the night.  For a moment, you swore you could already see the future with him.  Your very own tent with him, same scenery, him lying against your thighs, maybe a tiny Lo’ak or two, squealing in the background, playing with their grandmama and grandpapa.  

Everything you could ever dream of, it’s always Lo’ak, Lo’ak, Lo’ak.

Lo’ak has been there since the beginning, and he will continue to do so until you grow old.

I see you, you spoke lovingly, hands tracing the constellations dotted on his face.  

Your heartbeat fastened at the growing grin he’s showing, his fang playfully biting on your finger.  He nibbled at it slightly harder, making you hiss at him.  Just as you were preparing to chide at him, you almost returned to Eywa  the next moment he spoke.  

“Y’know your dad gave me permission last night” 

“What for?”

“To mate with you.” 

You really hated it when he started wheezing at your wide-eyed blinking, especially when he drops news out of nowhere.  No warnings, nor heads up.  

But really, would he be Lo’ak if he did not have any surprises for you?

[fannyyann]

FLA @ CBJ 12.10.23

[babygirllinds]

The Polaroid Mav took of Ice one early morning as he talked to Slider on the phone. He tucked it in his wallet as soon as it developed fully and stares at it to remind himself of the love he’s come to know. He looks at it on bad days, running his fingers over the wrinkles and memorizes the smile he’s come to fall in love with every day.

He tucks it in plain sight of his plane before every mission and promises to come home to that face for the rest of his life, kissing it before going up in the air and kissing it when he lands. When he comes home each time, Ice is there with that same bright smile and open arms, pulling him in for a sweet kiss and the promise of forever.

click here for Ice’s Polaroid of Mav

[arthurcantsleep]

Hob has always been very tactile.

When he was a young man, he would hug his sisters and kiss his mother before leaving the house. He always pulled his mates in for a hug. He had a fond memory of grabbing the face of his commander and planting a firm kiss after surviving his first battle.

Over the years he grows up some, still affectionate to those close to him, maybe a little flirtatious to his friends, but he knows some sense of boundary. Especially as the decades go by he pulls in a little. He longs to reach out for his stranger at every meeting.

Eleanor was wonderful and more than happy to receive his affections. Robyn, sweet golden boy that he was, also adored hugs and obnoxious forehead kisses. He adored them until the very end. And what an end.

The next 80 years made Hob a cautious man. He became guarded, pulled away from any touch offered or taken. The next time he saw his stranger, it hadn't even occured to him to reach out for the comfort he desperately wanted.

And then, at the very end of the night, as he took his leave, his stranger paid for a room and bath.

Things began looking up. The next meeting, his stranger, wise and stern as always, told him to find a new line of work. And when Hob protected him, he seemed - almost demure in his appreciation. And Hob took a chance; asked his stranger to continue their centennial date. His stranger almost seemed heartbroken to decline.

The next century went well. He had found a gentlemen's literature club that was more senseless wild sex than actual discussion, and he met many a promising writer. It helped fill the need to touch. Something that became more dirty and scandalous to "proper society" as the years went on.

His stranger was a vision that century. Dressed to the nines, ruby shimmering at that beautiful throat. All Hob could think about was how desperately he had wanted. How badly he wanted to reach out and offer his affection and hope it was returned.

It was not.

He was an optimist though. Always able to move on. He only drank himself sick over it for a week. And maybe kept the gloves and hat left behind.

He had learned his lesson. He would offer his insight and not his love and hope for one of those sweet smiles again. When 1989 rolled around he was hopeful and ready to apologize for his missteps. His stranger would be stern as always and Hob would try not to show how absolutely smitten he was. But his stranger never showed.

He needed something to look forward to. Perhaps his stranger needed another century, but their pub was closing. So Hob did what any reasonable man would do to show his devotion, and he built one just for them.

Over the years the sting of rejection eased and Hob could get by on short relationships and casual sex. His Inn thrived and his new career path as a teacher did too. He felt fulfilled in teaching and the adoration he received from his students. He could almost pretend he didn't feel empty every time he awoke from a dreamless sleep alone.

And then.

His stranger was back.

His stranger apologized.

Hob was still careful. Did not offer touch, pulled away at the chance of brushed fingertips. It hurt. But it was enough to see his stranger again.

And his stranger kept coming back. Kept visiting him at the place he built just for them. They walked in the park together. They got coffee together. Sometimes, late at night when Hob felt desperate to see his stranger's smile, he would appear as if he could feel his longing. So Hob decides to risk it and offer his arm on walks, brush hands at the pub, maybe even risking holding hands.

And his Stranger accepts these acts of affection. Doesn't pull away. Tucking his had into the crook of Hob's arm, reaches out his fingers, pulls him closer when their hands intertwine.

And Hob is so, so in love.