the second pic is super old and inspired the first one...i still kinda like the second one more but i don't know how to draw like that anymore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Keni
todays bird
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

ellievsbear
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
styofa doing anything

roma★

★

PR's Tumblrdome
Claire Keane

No title available
art blog(derogatory)

tannertan36

Janaina Medeiros

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Three Goblin Art

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Xuebing Du

seen from Canada

seen from France

seen from Indonesia

seen from Austria
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Indonesia
seen from United States

seen from Singapore
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seen from Canada

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seen from Türkiye
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@divine-eternal-magic
the second pic is super old and inspired the first one...i still kinda like the second one more but i don't know how to draw like that anymore ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Love’s Fragments
Look me in the eye and try to tell me this: “Acting tough will not make it hurt any less, you know this, yes?” isn't utterly perfect for cowboy!Mitch 😍 Like whether it's him or reader who got hurt (and we both know they're equally foolhardy lmao)
send me a PROMPT for a 'new muse' blurb ~
Notes : it's TOO perfect for him! ugh cowboy mitch gets to meeee.
"ACTING TOUGH WILL NOT MAKE IT HURT ANY LESS, YOU KNOW THIS, YES?" | COWBOY!MITCH
Squinted amber hues were met with a quirked brow as you looked pointedly toward the man, your words provoking a loud scoff from the hoarseness that gathered in his throat. Mitch couldn't help but think utter ridiculousness of your sentiment - not that he didn't agree with its truthfulness, but rather so, he couldn't afford to fall short of his resilient and gritty character. Being the town's Deputy meant that Mitch needed to be strong, doughty, indestructible. He did have to act tough. His eyes slowly drifted down to your form as you pressed a damp cloth against his exposed side, sopping up remnants of blood that surrounded his freshly sliced wound. He winced, and you noticed.
"It's just a scratch." His voice was gravelly as he attempted to hide the pain that spiked his tone, choosing to immediately shut his mouth and grind his teeth as an alternative expression of pain. He shifted uncomfortably on the rickety barstool when you pressed further against the wound, the scraping of metal on metal echoing loudly amongst the dead atmosphere of the Saloon, only seen possible past closing time. He growled under his breath before hearing a quiet snicker, the curling lips of a smirk present between your cheeks only indicating that you did it on purpose.
"A scratch wouldn't have hurt that bad." You said, glancing up to the man when you felt his focus boring into you. Usually, he was the one possessing the over-protective trait; quick to swoop you out of harm's way and dictate the millions of consequences that would come from your rowdiness. Mitch was always there to catch you if you fell, and you even began to wonder whether he purposely followed you around just in case you found yourself in yet another troublesome situation. Regardless of his staunchness, it was incredibly endearing. "And I certainly don't think that a stab to the side counts nearly as close as a scratch, mind you. You're lucky you're alive, Deputy."
"Y/N, we've been over this-" He began, sucking in a sharp breath as you finished cleaning the open gash. He shook his head, breath releasing slowly as his voice dropped low, "You can call me Mitch."
how about mitch with WEARY 🤍
send me a character and a prompt for a scene blurb ~ (2/10)
WEARY : for one muse to wake up after falling asleep on the other.
You hadn’t been rocked to sleep since you were a child; back when innocence was a given and your life didn’t revolve around righting the wrongs of others for the central intelligence agency. Exhaustion was securing around your body like a weighted blanket, and you were craving the comfortability of your single bedroom apartment. You didn’t want to think about travelling abroad for at least a month after your most recent mission, it’s tediousness still digging its claws in your emotional and physical wellbeing. It was oddly consoling, however, to find yourself in deep slumber on the company’s private jet as your cool down from Spain was lulling you to sleep.
You were so spent that you didn’t realise that you lent into the side of your partner, Mitch too tired himself to push you aside - not that he had the heart to do so, anyway, surprised at himself for allowing a soft spot for you to settle quite wholefully in his chest. From day one, the man was strongly opposed to having a field partner; he was convinced that they would get in his way and disagree on tactics and ideas. Mitch Rapp didn’t want to be responsible for anyone else, just to get in and get the job done. He was a closed off individual who only wanted to keep to himself - but it was all thrown into the wind when Irene Kennedy forced your hand into his, and declared you official consorts.
Not that he minded too much now after having you get under his skin, worming your way into his life to the point where he just gave in and let you. Mitch would never admit it aloud, but he was glad that he had you by his side. That you were there for him. That he could be there for you, too.
Mitch was never able to sleep on airplanes, but it didn’t stop him from making sure that you did as he pulled your cardigan just that little bit tighter around your frame when the air-con kicked in, or how he would move his arm behind your body that you could be tucked in further to his side and nuzzle your weary head into the worn leather of his bomber jacket. It brought the man a sense of accomplishment when a delicate sigh left your parted lips, so he squeezed you, only slightly; not too much to make a difference in your sleepy status, but enough for you to release that gentle sigh once more.
“You’re digging y’self into a hole, Rapp.” A rough voice drifted his way, a magnetised force for his gaze as it landed on Stan Hurley across the aisle. Your handler was hardly looking back, his nose buried in some true crime novel about missing kids turned murderers - or whatever, you were always too turned off to allow him to get further into the details.
“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Was all that Mitch could reply with, his hand absentmindedly ceasing its little dance between your waist and hip.
Stan chuckled, only loud enough to keep the conversation between himself and Mitch and he shook his greying head, “The more you care, the less control you have. It’ll eat at you. Make you scared. Make you weak.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, sir.” Mitch tried to keep his voice levelled; he didn’t want his pitch to jump at any accusations, to give himself away. He did care, a hell of a lot, but he knew that he shouldn’t. And that’s what made it forbidden fruit - and boy, was Mitch tempted to try some.
Stan tutted, his tongue clicking against his teeth, lips rolling before they pursed outward. He wanted to reprimand Mitch for becoming involved, and surely if it were you in his place then Stran would be giving the same speech, but he knew the trials you’d both been through. He could see the connection, the natural pull between two lost souls becoming one. Maybe it was Stan Hurley who was the weak one in this scenario.
“You know as well as me what distactions do in the field. As soon as your pea brain wanders away from the target, then mistakes are made. People get hurt. The last thing you want is her getting hurt, ammiright?” Stan spoke almost sympathetically, and Mitch could see the sadness in the older man’s eyes.
Before he could reply, with something surely curt and sarcastic, the jet hit turbulence and the cabin shook. It prompted an overhead announcement about securing seatbelts as other agents and faculty held on out of impulse. It made you jolt awake, your body flying to an upright position, and before you could register where you were, Mitch was already securing your belt over your torso.
“How long was I out?” You asked him, knuckles rubbing at your eyes, and he found it strangely endearing to see you in such a state.
“Two, three hours. We’re still over the ocean.” Mitch gestured out the window that was shielded by a blind, one that he dragged down not too long after you dozed off. He watched as you peered out it, humming in acknowledgement before turning back to him with a lazy smile.
You peered to his jacket, a small dribble shining from the cabin’s lights catching your eye, “Shit, I slept with my mouth open.” You grumbled, pulling the sleeve of your shirt down as you dabbed at the material, before sighing in content when it was all fixed up. “I don’t usually drool in my sleep, sorry Mitch...”
He cleared his throat, his focus breaking from gazing over you with the type of heart eyes that he hadn’t experienced in five years. He shook his head, “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
Maybe Stan was right, he was caring for you. A little too much.
'Jacket' with Mitch! ✨
send me a PROMPT for a 'yearn for you' blurb -
[ JACKET ] : receiver gives sender their jacket after seeing them shiver in the cold.
It had been five hours since the stakeout started; five hours of silence, five hours of tension, five hours of chilling winter temperatures. You tried to ignore the consistent rising goosebumps as they pricked at the exposed skin of your arms, alas, it only became more difficult when they were accompanied by the intensity of strong shivers running down your spine. Your fingers were frozen as they remained clasped around a pair of binoculars, the view through the lenses remaining unchanged from the moment you and your partner arrived earlier that evening.
The man in question was trying to pretend that you didn't exist, but you could still see how he would glance at you out the corner of his eye. Your alliance wasn't the easiest to get into, but you could blame that mostly on his unwillingness to answer any small talk that you throw his way. There were times where you thought you were starting to get through to Mitch - his lips quirking ever so slightly in the corners at a comment you made, or maybe he would silently offer you some of the water in his bottle when you looked a little too dehydrated - but any sort of progress immediately reverted.
You overheard Stan at one point mention Mitch's extensive emotional problems that went hand-in-hand with his inability to follow direction, or present any kind of humanity at all. At first, you thought it was just Stan expressing his hatred for the scruffy young assassin, but you would be lying if you didn't start to believe its validity. This is what led you to hold your bottom lip between your teeth, scanning the area outside of your hotel window, the chilly breeze of the night air filling the small room you were held within.
The silence was broken by the clinking of metal, causing Mitch to pull away from the sniper positioned over his shoulder and look at you head-on with a cocked eyebrow and curious eyes. He focused instantly on the way your hands shook, the binoculars evidently becoming the source of the strange noise he was hearing. That's when he began to further notice the blue tips of your fingers that complimented a pale shade on your lips. His eyes raked over your arms next and a tinge of guilt began to bubble in his stomach. You were freezing and it was his fault.
It was hard to forgive Mitch for throwing you both into the river earlier that day; granted, it was vital in order to hide from your targets, but it left you with a drenched jacket that still hasn't dried in this cooler temperature. Mitch didn't hold back though when he had the opportunity to tell you that this is why he packs extra clothing in his car and that you were stupid for not listening to him before you left for the mission - you managed to just grumble back at him, and that's the last time you spoke a word.
Emotion contorted his features, and for a moment he showed compassion by stepping away from the weapon and pulling your hands away from your face. He hissed as his hands encased around your cold pair, attempting to cause friction by rubbing them together. Mitch shook his head, "God, your hands are fucking frozen. Can you even feel them?" He asked, concern pulling at his eyebrows and riding the ends of his words. All that you did was shake your head, trying to form fists as a way to get your blood moving.
You looked at him as your lips parted, the loud chattering of teeth altering the man that you were worse off than he thought. He swore under his breath before jerking back, ripping his jacket from his arms, and wrapping the warm article of clothing over your shoulders. Large hands splayed over your arms before they began to rub harshly to heat you up. A small smile tugged at your lips in disbelief and gratitude, voice quiet and quivering, "T-thank you, you di-didn't hav-ve to."
An unfamiliar blush rose on his cheeks, throat clearing as he tugged the jacket further around your smaller frame. "Don't mention it. Ever," he grunted, avoiding your eye contact and staring excessively at the zipper of his parker. He could see the material of his jacket move as you continued to tremble, and it made Mitch roll his eyes and release a barely audible whine. A single second hardly passed before Mitch had encaged you within his arms, pulling you against the high body warmth he harnessed. Your forehead was pressed against his collarbone and your hands entangled in your lap. Mitch didn't move as his chin sat on the crown of your head.
It was odd timing but a chuckle pushed through your lips, hilarity in your positioning allowing a bit of light to enter the situation. "You do know th-that you're hugging me, r-right?"
Mitch tensed, however, still remained where he was. He grunted once more and you were beginning to think if that's the only noise of emotion that he was able to produce, "I said, don't fucking mention it."
hiya! can yous do Mitch & 6 please ?
thanks 🩷
send me a prompt for some oblivious love blurbs ✩ Notes: weirdly obsessed with his shoulders right now
MISCOMMUNICATION
Mitch Rapp was difficult to understand; signals were crossed and mixed to the point where a blur was left behind, emotions swinging left and right as they failed to settle, and looks that were longing one second before harnessing avoidance the next. You didn't know whether he was coming or going and it pulled so much harder at your heart than you ever anticipated it would. You didn't think that falling for such a man would leave you awake at night, constant thoughts running through your mind about the things he said or did - trying to analyse their meanings, trying to find even a slither of hope that there was something worthwhile there. He made butterflies flutter, but he could also make them sink. Coldness stemming from his neutral gaze had the capacity to suddenly warm and light up the space you surrounded yourself in. He would soothe any stresses you had with his undivided attention, or leave you so utterly alone to lick at your wounds in silence. Mitch Rapp was an enigma, which both hurt and healed you. And for some reason, you loved him for it. For all of it.
I saw people designing Halloween themed pride flags so I thought I'd try it too!! I also posted these to my Instagram @_und3ad :)
Plz give credit if ur going to use these and feel free to request flags:) <3
Plz see pinned post for info
I love when games write in explanations for you dying and I wish TP would have gone harder with Midna pulling you out of your bullshit shenanigans.
pain sharing curse au feat wolfie :)
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I hc that every time he transforms into wolfie (and back to a hylian) he feels the same pain he felt during that one cutscene in twilight princess when he first transforms, but he’s so used to it and also he’s built his pain tolerance a lot because of it, that he doesn’t mind it anymore
anyway, wolfie is banned
also I know four shrinks and splits in canon but like, he doesn’t look to be in pain during it… TIME THOUGH…TIME RELATES
Slime mold was grown on an agar gel plate shaped like America and food sources were placed where America’s large cities are.
The result? A possible look at how to best build public transportation.
I just really like the idea of slime mold on a map of the US. It’s beautiful.
I’m—
holy shit
I have a raging science ladyboner right now.
I’d love if we could do it on a state-by-state basis.
That same slime mold once affirmed that the Tokyo subway is pretty well-designed.
Using slime molds as a calculator.
Using slime molds as a calculator.
Using slime molds as a calculator.
Natural computation: it’s a thing, and it’s awesome. What is the universe but a really, really complicated computer?
I love this.
Slime recommended national transit map
p.s. this is indeed a dress from the anime Sailor Moon :)
Chambers of Gold: a Zhonglumi twoshot
Summary: "Oh and one thing, Lumine."
"Yes?"
He stared at her as if starving. Molten heat in the eyes and teeth biting down inside his cheek. "Make absolutely certain to come to me while resonated with my element. Geo suits you best, after all."
-----
AN: This has been sitting in my Google Docs for a while, so I figured I might as well post the first chapter to try to motivate myself to finish it. As always you can read this on Ao3
Rating: T for chapter one, chapter two will be rated higher
-----------------
Chapter One
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today."
Lumine looked up from her teacup, smiling pleasantly at her lunchtime companion for the day. "Oh, not at all. I'll always make time for you, Zhongli. You don't need to worry about that."
"You flatter me, but the feeling is of course mutual," the former Geo archon inclined his head. His eyes glittered with mirth, as if they were exchanging a secret only she was privy to. Their play at formalities was something they'd fallen into naturally, but instead of creating distance between them, Lumine only smiled wider.
She settled back into her seat, glancing at the interior of Heyu Tea House. She was mildly impressed he'd managed to book a table on such short notice. He'd been getting better at remembering to bring mora lately too. Zhongli seemed to have selected a more secluded and private area in comparison with the other tables. They sipped tea together behind a partition screen, nestled in a cosy corner.
"So, what stories should we exchange today? I have a few from Fontaine. Freed a couple of otters from traps- got sucked into a whirlpool- battled a giant crab- those kinds of things," she said flippantly, producing some bubbles from her Hydro resonance and popping them absentmindedly.
When two dragon babies and two dragon daddies meet (with their wives)
When two dragon babies and two dragon daddies meet (with their wives)
PEREUS-
I don't fucking remember this what the shit lol
percy when someone asks who's the head councilor of the poseidon cabin
I’m not 😭😭
percy: *cusses*
sally: “perseus jackson! you kiss your girlfriend with that mouth?”
*annabeth storms in and starts ranting to percy about something, and letting out the absolute most crude and violent cuss words known to man*
sally: 😳
percy: 🤭
paul: “i think she’ll be okay”