Aww This Is So Cute!

lookie this tiny bean baby. aww my fat cat🐱 #cat #kitty #cutecats #beancat https://www.instagram.com/p/Budw9mgncob/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ybhkgefg77ps

Luo Binghe's blood parasites but when you zoom in with a microscope they all look like tiny red bingpups, frolicking and tussling among the blood cells.

I will legit read fanfics anywhere. Home, school, funerals and weddings. Anywhere.  Do you know how many close calls I’ve had by now? I'll be reading slash and I'm on an innocent part and my mom just rips my phone out of my hand, read it, then give it back. I just go into a panic because if she had scrolled just a little bit further...

people who read fanfiction in public are underrated heroes

Wait till the end!!

“ Todoroki should’ve folded your ass!!”

Muggles are not able to REBLOG this.

REBLOG this to prove you are not a Muggle.

my reblog button fucked up and i almost had a heart attack

I did it in the first try.

OH YEAH

Romantic Cumplane!

I need more romantic cumplane. It’s my guilty pleasure. Idc if it’s post transmitigation or au: never did transmitigate; like don’t get me wrong, I love platonic cumplane but there’s just something about them romantically that itches my brain just right.

Like that haters-friends-lovers tropes is just 🙂‍↕️🤌

The way SY would absolutely be airplanes sugar daddy. Just another nobleman paying an artist during a renaissance period. Like we have all these big man CEO tropes meets petite women whose working at a chicken shop to make ends meet ala kdrama style but make it cumplane. And I eat it up every single time. And airplane is def the shorter one. I think with his luck he would be short in every universe.

But I rarely find fics with them romantically or without another person in the pairing and that makes me sad :(

And no I will not be writing cumplane fics bc I can barely keep up with mine, even tho I know the rule is “can't find it then make it”

wife-plot fireworks (SVSSS)

Cumplane, Shang Qinghua & Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu (vibes are there for both, readers choice). Canon universe.

It’s not like Airplane could be expected to remember everything he wrote about; he’s not Cucumber-bro who could simply flip through his rolodex of complaints for whatever plotline they stumble into. Writing isn’t an exact science, there’s too many scenes gutted for their edible flesh and the bones discarded onto his cluttered apartment floor for him to keep track of who, what, when, where. He’d been fucking starving, okay? Real singing-for-his-supper shit which is cute when he had been in his twenties, desperate when he hit thirty, and downright chronic when forty began to loom on the horizon. So all of the papapa scenes that got Cucumber-bro’s silken boxers in such a twist had been necessary after a point, the reasons thinner and thinner as he scraped his knife against his bread to make it stretch further. 

“Disgraceful,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, each syllable as crisp as the fan he wields with devastating accuracy at the back of Shang Qinghua’s head. He’s pulling his blows, a necessity given their current situation, and Shang Qinghua takes the next corner without slowing, planting his sword in the ground to give him the leverage needed. 

“Hey, bro! Not cool.” Shang Qinghua hefts Shen Qingqiu higher — fuck, there’s barely anything to him, inertia might be keeping him stable but it wasn’t doing anything to cushion the hips currently bruising Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, his collarbone — wobbles and keeps running. “Not my fault that you seem to be wife-plot catnip for every poor sucker you bat your eyelashes at.”

“I do not—” Another corner, another slide of Shen Qingqiu across Shang Qinghua’s shoulder, slight enough that if he keeps whining then Shang Qinghua is just going to tuck him under one arm to carry him. Out of the corner of his eye, Shen Qingqiu’s face is crimson, a flush covering his sharp features like a veil. “—bat my eyelashes!”

He does. Might be thinking it makes him look sophisticated or even mysterious, that lidded gaze from behind his fan, and it does. Sometimes. 

“You agreed to be a human sacrifice, Cucumber-bro.”

“Airplane-bro, it’s the wife-plot for 287, I’m sure of it.” 

Fuck, how many narrow alleyways did one small town need? In the distance, Shang Qinghua can still make out the mob condensing behind them, their shouts barely audible beneath the desperate pounding of his own heart. 

Shen Qingqiu continues, measured the same way he must have written his novels entirely in comment-format, rapid-fire and barely pausing for breath. “She was the daughter of a village chief and Binghe encountered her during a spring festival that was held every ten years, like everytime he turned up at some small village.”

“Cucumber-bro, it was what the readers wanted and festivals are fun and convenient.”

“Hack writer.”

“Who’s carrying your skinny wife-plot arse around.”

Shen Qingqiu scowls, palpable through the very air cooling several degrees. Shang Qinghua, his heart lodged in his throat, his lungs burning for air, reflexively turns to look for a portal, waits for a heavy hand on his shoulder. Shit, he meant to send a missive to his king over an hour ago. They round another corner, Shang Qinghua’s shoulder knocking into the building opposite, bruising but that’s a problem for later, and slide to a halt. 

A crowd stares back, dark eyes glittering beneath the flare of their torches, faces shadowed by the encroaching gloom.

Shen Qingqiu lowers himself to look beneath Shang Qinghua’s elbow, the ornament from his hair finally coming loose and landing with a gentle plink on the cobblestones. His hair falls freely with it, dark tresses brushing the ground.

“Give us back the maiden!” A voice shouts from the back, indignant, brash to match the flourish of a blade drawn.

“Time to run. Again!”

“Head for the outskirts,” Shen Qingqiu snaps, fumbling with the pouch at his waist as he drags himself back upright. It’s uncomfortable, a hand shoved between a press of bone against bone, a flare of energy that bursts behind Shang Qinghua’s eyes like a three-day-old headache. “If we can just set off the fireworks, then the festival will be over and they’ll stop chasing us.”

“Remind me how that’ll work? Your plan so far was to volunteer—” Shang Qinghua raises his voice to a near shout, slamming his words over Shen Qingqiu’s spluttered complaint. “—and then say ‘No time to explain. Just grab the fireworks and follow me.’ You got three steps away.”

“Without-A-Cure was your creation.”

“This entire place is my creation.” Shang Qinghua can’t let himself dwell too long on that fact because then he’d need to sit down somewhere dark and quiet and chew his knuckles until they bleed. The buildings are becoming sparser now, glimpses of the horizon visible in the spaces between them, but it doesn’t help the sinking sensation of eyes crawling over his skin, something small and fragile skittering out in the open while a predator circles overhead. 

Shouts echo behind him but he doesn’t slow, vaulting over a fence and sinking into the tangle of grass on the other side. He lands on his knees in a crouch, tipping himself sideways to let Shen Qingqiu down with a grunt of effort. He’s no longer moving so the panic begins to fizz in his belly, his eyes wide and staring out at the tiny pinpricks of light filtering between the buildings. “What now?”

“Wife 287 was scheduled to participate in the festival but Binghe’s cultivation prowess caused a reaction and the spirits were appeased early.”

Shang Qinghua chews his lower lip, pulling some of the grass free in front of him and twisting it around his fingers. Lights skim across his vision, the crowd still searching for them both, and he ties a knot into the grass, beginning to braid it. “So, fireworks?”

“Fireworks. If you could?” 

It’s kind of nice to just lie down and watch the fireworks rain overhead. Shen Qingqiu’s fingers twist into Shang Qinghua’s, squeezing tight before they relax.

“you’re gonna be okay Buck, they’re gonna need you. I love you kid.” I’m KILLING myself let’s all KILL OURSELVES

It takes approximately 12 minutes to empty one side of you flip it. I timed it.

Shang Qinghua: That's right, I'm a cut-sleeve. And in case you haven't noticed, so is Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Qingqiu: What??? I'm not a cut-sleeve.

Shang Qinghua: Haha, what're you talking about, you took me to that dual cultivation tavern.

Shen Qingqiu: So? They sold neat talismans!

Shang Qinghua: What about our trip to the Everlasting Hearts Cave then?

Shen Qingqiu: I wanted to see the Blooming Love Birds during nesting season!

Shang Qinghua: B-but... you made love to me--

Shen Qinghua: Okay, first of all, you landed face first into a sex pollen plant--