#Tyler Blackburn

[supfag]

CODY CHRISTIAN & TYLER BLACKBURN PRETTY LITTLE LIARS (5.24)

[cull3nblaze]

Bucks reaction to the kiss is just everything to me. LOOK at him. He is so overwhelmed and just.....

You know what that reminded me of?

This one ♥

[pastelwitchling]

Alex was so tired. Tired enough that he’d had to leave work early because Eduardo Ramos had taken one look at him and said he didn’t want to see him for the rest of the week. Tired enough that he fell into bed the second he’d changed into sweats and hadn’t gotten up again. Tired enough that he’d left Michael’s text message from earlier on read without a response.

Tired enough that when he’d seen his husband next, it was after waking up from an unplanned nap. A bad sign, as Alex had trouble sleeping on the best of days. Drifting off without noticing did not bode well for where his head was. Michael seemed to realize that as Alex’s groggy vision cleared and he noted the concerned furrow of Michael’s brow.

His head fell back onto the pillow with a heaving sigh. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like a man in love?” Michael hummed, brushing Alex’s bangs back. “Sorry, I can’t physically do that.”

Alex chuckled sleepily. “You’re such a dork.”

“I’ll take it,” he shrugged a shoulder, and started to lay down beside him. He still smelled like the afternoon sun and sand from the junkyard and the delicious rain smell that made Alex’s head spin.

“Don’t,” Alex said, “I’m getting up.”

“Why?” Michael said, putting a hand on his waist and grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. “I’m tired too, we can take a nap together.”

Alex smiled, rubbing his eyes. “You’re not tired, you’re worried, and you shouldn’t be. I’ve just had one too many sleepless nights, that’s all.”

Michael pursed his lips, cupping Alex’s jaw and rubbing his thumb across the dark circle under Alex’s eye. Alex’s eyes fluttered to the warmth of his palm, and he turned into it, covering Michael’s hand with his own and breathing him in. He vaguely remembered Maria��what felt like forever ago now—making some joke about how Michael smelled, and he remembered wanting to snap then at her and feeling like he wasn’t allowed to. How did anyone not fall in love with Michael’s scent? He was the sky and earth and everything good about the world, he anchored Alex in a way nothing and no one else did.

“Can’t you just let me hold you anyway?” Michael murmured, his lips quirking with the faintest trace of amusement. “For my sake?”

Alex exhaled shakily, and crawled onto Michael’s lap, straddling him and wrapping his arms around his shoulders, burying his face in the crook of Michael’s neck and closing his eyes.

Michael seemed to sense that he couldn’t or wouldn’t speak, and just rubbed the space between his shoulder blades. Alex melted deeper into him, cuddling as close as he could until Michael was all he was breathing in, Michael’s arms around him and body underneath and around him all he could feel.

“Tighter,” he whispered, not daring to raise his voice any more than that. He didn’t know how else to put his exhaustion and its source into words. “Hold me tighter, baby, please.”

Michael seemed to have been waiting for permission, his grip on Alex almost bruising as he squeezed him to his body. A weak moan rose up the back of Alex’s throat; for the first time all day, he thought he could feel his own heartbeat, his body turning heavy enough that he was sure he was going to fall asleep again despite having just woken up.

“M’sorry,” he murmured, his eyes burning for reasons he couldn’t even fathom. This wasn’t the first time he got like this, when he felt like this inexplicable grief lingered just below the surface, waiting for the chance to show itself, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. What bothered him though was the inability to talk about it, the inability to tell Michael just why he got like this. Sometimes, it felt like there was no reason for him to grieve, and sometimes it felt like there were too many reasons; too many to name, too many to think of, too many to bear.

“I hate this,” he groaned, brows pinched with the same headache that had been plaguing him all day. If he kept telling himself it was the sleepless nights, he might be able to endure it better. Except that here, in Michael’s arms, it was impossible to not feel safe enough to confess the mess in his head. “I hate . . . I hate this, Michael.”

“I know, baby,” Michael whispered against his ear, inhaling deeply as though he, too, couldn’t get enough of Alex’s scent. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re okay.”

Alex was so, so tired. He closed his eyes and buried himself in Michael’s warmth, shoving his hands under Michael’s shirt to feel the heat of his skin and get as close as possible. He felt Michael shudder against him, and squirmed until there was no space left between them.

“You want to sleep now?”

Alex considered it. “Can you get something to eat first? I’ll feel bad if you don’t have dinner.”

Michael chuckled. “Sure, I’ll get something to eat.” Alex made no move to get off of him, and Michael made no move to ease his hold. “You want to come with me?”

Alex swallowed. “If you really want me to.”

He could feel Michael’s smile against his ear, Michael’s hand running down his spine. “I really want you to. I can’t eat if you’re not there. Please, baby, for my sake?”

“You’re such a dork,” Alex murmured, pushing his face into Michael’s neck and snuggling into him. “Fine, since you really need me.”

Michael chuckled. “I really do, baby. I really, always do.”

[dr-lizortecho]

Happy Pride from Roswell New Mexico (Insp) <3

[sgftxtinajb]

[sun-ni-day]

Fans: you're not gonna "bury your gays", are you?

Roswell NM: Of course not!

Also Roswell NM:

[prettylittleliarsstuff]

S01 E14

please, like/reblog if you use it

don’t redistribute and claim as your own

[krazycattgurl]

Malex forever ❤️

[ladiesandgentsofrnm]

■

[saadiestuff]

[theheartneverliez]

I will always say

That this should have been used in Roswell

[burntotears]

all alex & kyle scenes | 112 creep ⇨ part two

I thought that Isobel was the psychic and you were the jedi? Jedi's are psychic. I've never actually seen Star Trek. Oh my god.

[elegantelf]

[pastelwitchling]

Michael helps Alex breathe.

tw: depression

***

Alex woke up feeling heavy. There was a weight in the pit of his stomach that left him nauseous, a tingling in his throat that made drawing deep breaths difficult, his tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds, his heart seemed to slow and beat hard against his chest, wracking all of his ribs.

He didn’t want to move. He couldn’t move. He felt Michael pressed against his back and wondered if he would have the strength to turn over, to wake him up and tell him he felt wrong. Then he thought about having to move, having to speak, having to explain when Michael inevitably panicked that Alex was physically hurt.

He wasn’t. He’d learned that much over the years. He might’ve felt like his heart was caving in, he might felt like he was going to throw up, he might’ve felt like it was hard to breathe, but it was in his head, all in his head. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine. It was all in his head, all in his head, all in his head . . .

He knew that, he knew it, and yet the second he felt Michael stir against him, the second Michael arched into him, the second he murmured Alex’s name, probably not expecting a response, only wanting his husband’s name to be the first thing he said when he woke up, Alex whispered, “Help.”

Michael tensed at once, and then he was leaning up on his elbow, peering down at him. “Alex?”

Alex’s whole body scrunched. He’d wanted Michael’s attention, but now that he actually had his eyes on him, he felt smothered. He buried his face in his elbow, not knowing how to respond to Michael’s inquisitive eyes. He didn’t seem to need to; hiding away seemed to have told Michael everything he’d needed to know.

“Okay,” Michael sighed, and kissed Alex’s shoulder. “It’s okay, baby.”

But Alex didn’t feel okay. He didn’t feel right. He glanced at the door, lowering his arms at the same moment a tear had fallen. Had he been crying? When had he started? He hated not noticing his own tears before it was too late to hide them. Michael felt differently, brushing Alex’s eye with his thumb like there was nowhere else he’d rather be than right here, taking care of him.

“I’m not sad,” he murmured.

Michael pressed another kiss to his cheek. “I know.”

He felt Michael stretch behind him, heard him groan as the early morning sleep faded away, and something about the ease with which he moved around, like there was no reason to worry, no reason to be scared, made Alex’s chest calm down the slightest bit. If Michael wasn’t scared, there was no reason for him to be scared. He kept repeating that in his head, kept telling himself over and over that Michael wouldn’t be calm if there was anything bad happening.

Was that the problem? Was he scared of a threat that would never come? No . . . no, he didn’t think so. Something else was wrong, but . . . Alex had no idea what it was. He had no idea what he was feeling, he had no idea what the source was. If he didn’t know the source, how would he ever fix it? Maybe he couldn’t . . . maybe he was just fundamentally broken . . . maybe all those times he laughed and felt any semblance of joy, maybe that was the fluke. Maybe this, this shattered, dying, numb version of him, maybe this was his truth—

“Turn over,” Michael told him, cutting through his thoughts.

Alex turned deeper into his blankets. No, he didn’t want to turn his back on the front door, he didn’t know if it would make this hollowness worse.

“I’m right here,” Michael told him easily, running a hand down his arm, down his waist, down across his stomach to his other side and hooking his fingers around his hip, readying to physically turn him. “I need you to stop worrying about the door.”

“I need to see it.”

“Not when I’m here,” Michael told him. “Out of sight, out of mind, baby. C’mon, turn over for me. If it gets worse, we can turn back.”

So Alex, feeling as though he had blocks of cement tied to each limb, forced himself to turn over, and the second he did, Michael brought the blanket up to the back of his head, pulled down at his front so that he could cuddle in close against Michael’s chest. He was in a cave of blankets and Michael, protected from all sides.

              “Let me worry about the door,” Michael murmured against his crown. “Just close your eyes, okay? Try to get some more sleep.”

              Alex closed his eyes into the quiet, warm darkness between their bodies, his forehead against Michael’s collarbone as he breathed in and out, flooding his senses with Michael’s rain smell as Michael rubbed his blanketed back. Yet sleep would not come.

              “Do you think I’m broken?”

              Michael hummed. “Absolutely.”

              Alex couldn’t help the tug at his lips. “But like . . . in a bad way. Like . . . this is it, this is my whole life. Moments of this that just . . . stretch until there’s nothing left. Until I’m just like this forever.” Any semblance of a smile vanished with his shuddered exhale, and he whispered, “Do you think I’m going to die like this—”

              “No,” Michael said before Alex had even finished asking the question. He sounded calm, but his arms tightened around Alex, pulling him in as close as possible. Alex knew Michael didn’t like it when he used the ‘d’ word, but there were times, times like this, when the bleakness of his thoughts overwhelmed him and he had no filter. His need to voice the worst of his thoughts was necessary. He didn’t realize he needed Michael’s reassurance until his husband slid a hand into his hair and tugged roughly on the roots, grounding him.

              “Alex, if I tell you something, will you believe me?”

              I believed you were an alien without a second thought, Alex thought, but didn’t have the energy to say. Too many words, and humor was not in his ability right now. “Anything,” he managed instead.

              “Before we got together . . . back when you were . . .” he cleared his throat, clearly forcing the words out now, “with Long . . . I felt like the world was caving in every second. It was like . . . I was watching myself move around, getting things done, but it wasn’t me doing any of it. Then I kissed you outside the Pony, and . . . I could feel again.” He hugged Alex tighter like he was worried Alex was going to pull away at the news. “I’m not saying you’re my medicine, Alex, and I’m not saying I expect to be yours. I know that . . . what’s happening to you right now . . . it’s outside of me. I know I can’t fix it for you, no matter how much I wish I could.”

              Alex sniffled. Was he crying again? He croaked, “Then what are you saying?”

              Michael ran a hand down the back of his head, smoothing out the earlier sting. “I’m saying I know what it feels like to feel like this is it. Like this is what the rest of your life is going to look like, but . . . but I think the truth is that . . . this is only part of your life, Alex. Maybe you’ll always have moments like this, but you’ll have really good ones too, and then this . . . it’ll feel more far away. It might not stop, but it’s not all there is.” He hugged him tighter. “And I’m going to work so hard to give you as many of those good moments as possible, and it might not always be enough, but it’ll be enough to fight for. I really believe that.”

              Alex shut his eyes, a tear falling down the bridge of his nose, and he sniffed again. “I’ll work hard, too,” he promised. He meant it, he did, but . . . “Just maybe not right now?”

              “No,” Michael agreed, running his other hand down Alex’s blanketed back again and holding him closer. “Right now, just let me hold you. Take a breather, and let me be the one to fight.”

              So Alex, knowing that Michael would always help steady him, did as he was told. He closed his eyes, and breathed.

[dr-lizortecho]

— THAT’S HOME

excerpt from @angrycowboy’s epic all the stars aligned, written for @rnmbigbang

[fabartists]

Lucy Hale y Tyler blackburn en la boda de unos amigos ✨️🖤