#absolute simp

[elizabeth-freaking-bennet]

remember when margaret hale told a man she was not married or related to, to “go down there and face them like a man!” and john thornton just. did it.

simp

[octtinkk]

I made a Monsters And Girls oc!! Fish Angel who also is maybe a lil bit too invested in researching Demons(their freedom to sin fascinates him)

Monsters And Girls Belongs to @idolomantises!!!

(Y’all can ask questions if you want👀 I made a lot of lore for him hehe🤭)

[loverockawaitsyou]

Long-haired, goatee Stone is my favorite Stone. I am ready to die on this hill!

I mean he looks great all the time, but his looks here have me simping a bit harder.

UGH YESSS...

[lucanis-crow]

afjhkelsgnsjkzaxhkjlfhckjlsxahljkndbhajkxdnhjklanhjcknajdaejfkjwuefkjs

[redlizardfather]

REST / Kate

    SOFT ACTION PROMPTS    /    [ REST ] sender places their head in receiver’s lap.

    KATE IS PLAYING A game with Morse that he's certain she doesn't realise she's playing. The game is one entirely stacked against Morse. It's a game of temptation and restraint.

    KATE HAS NICE HAIR. Morse likes her hair. He likes looking at it. He can look at it all he likes; that's not the game. What he wants is to touch it. Morse cannot touch it, because once he does, he may never stop. It’ll be like his pen. He clicks it on and off constantly as he thinks, as he holds it, as he considers a crossword. It’s become absentminded now, the sensation and sound a comfort to him, restoring balance. If he allows himself to stroke Kate’s hair, twirl it around his fingers, then who knows how often he’ll find his hand there? It’s not his hair, it doesn’t belong to him. He can’t just---

   “WHAT DID YOU DO today?” he asks. He hopes her day has been eventful. She might have some story to tell him, gripping enough to distract Morse and his traitorous fingers from her hair. He offers a smile. It’s one of his usual types, small and almost polite, with just a touch of uncertainty. As though they were meeting for coffee, and not lounging together on a sofa. As though her head isn’t in his lap, hair falling against his leg. 

    BUT THEY ARE, AND it is. Her body is draped beside him, reclined, and he can feel the curve of her neck over his leg, elegant in her relaxation. Her hair has fallen in a perfect fan. And he can’t just--- but he could. He wants to. Perhaps she won’t mind, even if he does mess up her hair. She’ll still look beautiful. She’s beautiful always, but Morse particularly enjoys this view. She’s looking up at him, the weight of her head gentle yet grounding, and his fingers twitch. He rests his hand on her cheek instead, fingertips curving to trace her jawline, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. 

    THAT TURNS OUT TO be a mistake. His hand inches its way over her cheek, touch feather-light and more careful than it need be, and he’s brushing back a lock of hair from her face before he even knows it. It could be excused. Out loud or in his head. He’s just making sure she isn’t irritated by the strands being out of place. But Morse has lost the game, in doing this, because his fingers don’t stop there. They follow the strand back over the side of her head, stroking a gentle path through her hair. Again. And again. It’s not a confident path, but a careful one, navigated with breathless wonder. He’s crossing territory unknown to him, creating the map as he goes. There’s no other motive here, nothing to distract. Just his hand and its nervous-curious stroking, and her eyes on his, and the back of her head resting against him. If this were to be his only purpose from now on, Morse thinks, if he were to exist only to explore the unknown of Kate with a hand seeking to comfort her, soothe her, please her... he would still never be satisfied with his expertise. He could spend hours this way and the adoration in his eyes wouldn’t dull even for a moment. 

    WHAT A FOOL HE has been to deny himself this. What a fool, and what a genius, because he knows in an instant that he was right --- he won’t be able to stop this now. He’s stroking her hair, parting it in parallel curves over her skull with light fingertips. The strands slip over his fingers just as he’s been imagining. It’s soothing in a different way to clicking his pen. Different, but no less satisfying. 

    MORSE SIGHS. PERHAPS HE can forgive himself. The game was stacked against him, after all. He never stood a chance. 

[yourtamaki]

It’s nearly valentines dayyyyy are ya excited? -ukai

i am!! if i get to spend time with you it’s already a great day