HMMMMMM interesting to think about arranged marriage with prince shouto...............

i think he wouldn't know. what to expect with you. i think he'd have an idea, as in, what his father, the king, has taught him; the duties of a wife, where your importance ranks in relation to his duties. what he's not meant to discuss with you, like politics and matters at court and foreign relations. how you will speak to him. what to buy in the event that you become...unhappy. a nuisance.

("and she will," enji had muttered, briefly glancing up from the parchment on his desk to fix shouto with a look he didn't understand. "they always do.")

you don't meet until the royal wedding, when you're coming down the long aisle of the grand cathedral, dressed up in a swathe of silk and lace. a thin, gossamer veil hides you from him, but he can feel the ardor in your eyes, the intensity burning through the material. it doesn't seem real until your bare face is only a breath from his own, until he has to see the earnestness in your stare, too.

your kiss is simple and chaste, nothing spectacular, something that leaves his mind as soon as it's over. ever a todoroki, a hundred other things enter his mind, all regarding his now iron-laid obligations: it's vital he meet with advisor keigo to reiterate the plan to establish his authority among the council; general aizawa is in attendance to the wedding, and shouto has not yet received word on his opinion of the new king's ideas to modernize their armed forces; midoriya is somewhere, no doubt wanting to go over state affairs again.

truthfully, shouto doesn't spend long "celebrating". there's already too much that's required of him, hardly enough time to even scarf down a few bites of the banquet laid out before he's being chartered off into discussions on foreign relations and infrastructure development. maybe once or twice does he look back to check on you, chatting pleasantly with his mother and sister at the front of the great hall, and that's satisfying enough.

it's not until much later that he sees you again; freshly bathed and wearing something sheer and long and white, atop his bed.

or his marriage bed, he must remind himself.

enji didn't spend long going over consummation, with him or either of his brothers—natsuo, red-faced and annoyed at the very subject, always storming off, and touya had seemed well-aware of the process, at the time (back before he'd been ex-communicated). it had sounded simple: strip off your dress, get his cock out and into you, and only retreat once he was sure his seed had been spilled.

—so he's not exactly sure what to do or think or how to feel, when you're laid bare and reaching up to hold his face.

it's so startling that he sits back on his knees, to frown where he's looming over you.

you stare at him quietly, like you're expecting him to say something, and he only has a moment to wonder if this is you becoming an unhappy nuisance—what had been the answer, to solve this, anyway?—before you let out a soft laugh.

"c'mere," you tell him, sitting up, too, when he keeps his distance. "i want you to kiss me."

"i already have."

"yes," you laugh again, amusement glowing in your eyes, like the warmth off the fireplace, as you reach for the ties on his trousers. "but you're meant to do it again."

and up until then, he'd felt confident in his achievements, his executions; he'd managed a lot today, in one evening, and he had a lifetime to manage more. it was a good a start as any, he'd thought, but now—

shouto almost can't get the words out when he feels your hands ghosting up the inside of his shirt, nails tickling over his ribs. "a-am i?"

you wrap your arms around his waist in what could be a hug, scooting forward to look up at him with your chin against his chest. "yes," you smile and—it's familiar in a way, how touya would whenever he was teasing. "you're my husband, you're meant to kiss me whenever i want."

that—was not something his father had ever said, he was sure, and it was a too-rare exchange between his own parents. now that he thinks about it—and he does, then, because he's faced with the reality that he doesn't know as much as he should—he's not sure the former king and queen even sleep in the same room, much less the same bed.

much less hug and touch and even smile, the way you do now.

there's no argument he can make against it, aside from finding keigo to find his father to verify the truth to such a statement, and he's only meant to retreat from this bed on one condition.

and if this is what it takes to meet that—then shouto supposes he'll have to do it, for now. he's a brand new king, after all, and it would seem he still has much to learn.

My favourite thing about tumblr, that in my opinion makes it far superior to other social media sites, is that new posts live side by side with old posts. These days, there’s a prioritization of new content. It not only shortens the lifespan of people’s work, memes and such, but it also devalues the work that goes into making certain things.

Sure, a lot of posts are just random thoughts spewed into the ether, but some posts are carefully crafted videos, photos, artwork, prose, that take the creator a considerable amount of time and effort to craft. So, as a content creator, it’s nice to see that you can put work into a piece of content on here and it can have a life of its own. Unlike other platforms where posts live and die in a matter of day, sometimes, hours

"You're safe now, my darling" The knight rescued her precious princess from the evil Gabriel Agreste

=>>Reference that inspired this piece. :3 =>>Contact me through these socials if you like! <3

I mean…😶

vaultghoul parallels 1/?

Art Dump!

Dwatchet and some Earthspark inspired stuff ✨

*casually death-grips onto the one person who makes her feel safe*

steve “can you please hold this for me while i go risk my life” harrington & eddie “for your modesty, you absolute slut” munson

just sitting here thinking about how sad/weird/amazing it is for Bruce to finally hear press and community members say “The Waynes” plural again without meaning his parents

✨ 🌠 🐰 X A V I E R 🐰 🌠 ✨

mc: where were you during 9/11

solomon: banging your mother

mc: no you weren't

solomon: how would you know? you weren't born before 9/11

mc: that's besides the point

hoh steve (steddie)

“Steve,” Robin calls right as he’s preparing to jump. He turns and looks at her, head tilted, and she taps her ear. Eddie watches as Steve’s face goes through several emotions, annoyance, trepidation, resignation, before reaching up and pulling something from his ear. He drops it in her hand with a sigh, and Robin makes some kind of motion with her hands.

He gives her a reluctant thumbs up back, and dives. 

“So, what was that?” Eddie asks after a few seconds, while they all peer into the water. 

“What’s what?”

“The…“ he pokes his own ear, “the thing he gave you.”

“Oh, it’s—“ she starts, but then Steve comes up for air and everything is forgotten. 

“—unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen,” Eddie finishes with a flourish. He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, except that Steve seems like he’s actually a good guy, and deserves to be happy. Eddie knows it will never be him that does that. So matchmaking it is. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly at his lips, brow furrowed. He looks up at the girls, and Eddie assumes he’s looking at Nancy, contemplating their future together. 

“Hey Robin?” Steve calls out a little too loud, dashing all of Eddie’s assumptions on the rocks. 

She turns around, tilting her head and jogging back to them. Nancy keeps going on, because she’s got the biggest balls of anyone Eddie’s ever met and will not be stopped by man nor hellbeast. 

Steve points to his left ear, the one Eddie’s on the side of. “Do you have it?” 

Robin moves closer to his right, hitching her voice a little louder. “I couldn’t exactly take it into the lake with me, Dingus.”

“Great,” he groans, “lost my hearing aid and my favorite sweater. Fuck this place, seriously.”

Eddie’s eyes widen. Hearing aid? He would have noticed a hearing aid, right?

Steve turns to him with a grimace. “Sorry man,” he says, “I caught, like, maybe half of what you were saying. Something about trying to fix my friendship with Nancy?”

Part of his brain keeps getting stuck on how strange, and strangely wonderful, it is to see Henry like this, open and bare in every way.

Finished the fallen version and . . . well, I let my delusions win 😇

Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

Merry riding with Éomer