#disgustingly domestic murder husbands

[stupidcopper]

bit by the shirtless man bug

[maria-sand-22]

Androw farman is one of the characters that rattle me most because had he been a woman, male rhaena would've been forever branded a misogynistic monster, and to think some wanted her to be queen with all her disgusting actions, Her greatest crime is probably driving her daughter into suicide and domestically abusing her previously completely docile and harmless husband into a psychotic murderous madness AND again suicide, its also how Creepy and disgustingly restrictive she was towards allyssa don't give me the "she doesn't owe her a ship" argument, one ship wouldn't have killed her, its the least she could do for an insignificant house that was willing to face maegor and balerion for her, don't get me started on the way she treated her mother in her life only to come back and make a performative spectacle of her death while berating her real grieving family.

[thejesterconcept]

Alright, this is basically me paraphrasing a tiktok made by TikTok user melodieospan, about an issue in Kazakhstan. Please look her up on TikTok and watch her videos on this. For those who do not know; on November 9th, of 2023, the ex-minister of economy of Kazakhstan, Quandyq Beshimbayev, murdered his wife., Saltanat Nukenova, in a restaurant.

Over the past month or so, he had been undergoing a court case, which, so far, can only be described as a fat joke.

All of the screwed up and graphic details of this case, murder, and trial that I know of as of now will be talked about here, so if you can be sensitive to murder stuff, please do look it up elsewhere to find a less graphic discussion. TikTok user melodieospan has some. But I do ask you look into this, it is a problem.

For those of you still here, great. Here we go, prepare yourself.

He had beat his wife, Saltanat, for 8 hours straight, Beshimbayev covered her alive, wheezing body with a blanket, then went back to eating his food like nothing had happened, and he didn't do something so awful.

No ambulance was called. He just ate in the same room as his dying wife. His brother showed up. ALSO did nothing. Except for trying to help Beshimbayev cover up the whole thing.

They took her phone, and drove it around the city for hours, so that no one could look for her.

Saltanat tried leaving her husband multiple times, but always came back, and, according to various sources, Beshimbayev forced her to make a innapropriate video with him, and he used it as blackmail.

All of this has been proved, so it makes you wonder, 'why has there been no punishment yet?'.

That isn't exactly how Kazakhstan works. In order for a murderer to be found guilty of the murder he commited, it also has to be proved that the victim did not DESERVE it.

In this court case, for some reason, they have been discussing every single possible reason for why she deserved to die, like she might've been an alcoholic, she might've been mentally unstable, and Quandyq Beshimbayev is somehow allowed to go off for HOURS on how terrible of a wife she was, and 'oh, how she would raise her hands at him'.

Which, okay. But if she did that, why is she the dead one? And the brother of Saltanat, Aitbek Amangeldy, has been treated so disgustingly by the court.

Just, imagine this:

Losing your sister, one of the people you love the most in the whole entire world, in such a truly terrible way, and then having to stand in front of all these people, who ask such stupid questions, such as;

'What was your sister's preference with her relationships with men?'

'Did she like to dominate them, or did she like when they dominated her?'.

And this man who is grieving cannot show any emotion while answering these questions . Every time he answers with emotion in it, he is reprimanded by the judge, being told that he might just be found guilty for his disrespect to the court.

Aitbek Amangeldy, the brother to the victim, is being treat as if he were the murderer, while the murderer himself is not taking this seriously, because he is laughing and smiling, and passing notes.

It has been five months, Beshimbayev has been proved to be the murderer, and is still referred to as the 'subject', and there has not been a sentence in over five months.

This is sickening, but there are things people can do to help change the Justice system in Kazakhstan, even if you are not a Kazakhstani citizen.

-Raise Awareness in the International community

Even something as simple as interacting with this post, or anything else out there about this case. Writing comments in ANY and ALL languages, reposting, anything. Talk

-Support Domestic Violence Protection services everywhere you can

Anything you can do to support charities and services that help prevent or stop domestic violence, especially towards women, but just in general as well. A threat to justice anywhere is a threat everywhere.

[theotheroccassionalfanficwriter]

Heyhey! I think the cryo archon chlde one. Sorry for not being specific. Thank you

It's okay anon! No problem! This one has no smut and more murder couple and politics. I had fun writing this, thinking about how could you get kidnapped under lock and key and realized that it could only happen if it was allowed to so ta-da!

CW: descriptions of cruelty and gore.

The curse words, in order, are: bitch and whore

--

In a Quiet Lagoon, Devils Dwell

Summary: It was easy to forget that there was more to the Cryo Archon's face than a besotted husband and loving father. It was easier to forget that the beloved Tsaritsa was a dutiful Harbinger.

For all of Tartaglia’s meticulousness, he was not infallible as his worshippers made him to be. You knew that there were times he could be blindsided by things he didn’t take into consideration. As his wife, you took it upon yourself to ensure to cover for his blind spots, both in the battlefield and in running Snezhnaya. It required meticulous planning from both him and yourself, to ensure that the work would not interfere with your family’s life.

Tartaglia and his harbingers dealt with Snezhnaya’s foreign relations and problems. You dealt with the domestic problems; spies and dissidents that partnered with the Abyss Order, the occasional gods that wanted to dethrone Tartaglia, and on very rare occasions, traitors.

You cocked your head as you observed the room you were held in. Fine furnishings and lavish interior designs that were popular among the upper middle nobility of Snezhnaya. You were glad that your beloved son was with Tartaglia since it meant that you’d be able to get information out of this.

‘Well, at least before this reaches his ears’ You thought as you dreaded the bloodbath that would await you once this was over.

You stood up from the bed, gauging your current strength and frowning at the visible after effects of the drug.

“How troublesome”

You couldn’t locate your vision at your person, you applauded your captors for being thorough in that regard but pitied them for their worthless effort. You wobbled as you slowly walked around the room, inspecting the decors and checking out the windows. The door was locked with magic, you could tell with a cursory glance that the magic was intricate and would result into a backlash if opened with brute force.

‘Smart’ you praised them.

You moved to the windows and found the same magic. You sighed at the minor inconvenience this put you through. You could only forlornly stare at the white expanse of snow that was outside your window. The scenery was familiar to your eyes but its name eluded you.

‘And I wanted to welcome him when he returned.’

You sighed once more. Hoping that your captors would show themselves soon, you wouldn’t want to waste an opportunity to do some spring cleaning after all.

--

The moment Tartaglia returned to Zapolyarny Palace, the entire capital of Snezhnaya had drowned in his frosty wrath. He barely restrained himself from plunging the entire nation into frost, the thought of his darling son fearing him had kept him mostly sane. Pulcinella had taken his son away from the crime scene, a wise choice for the Harbinger if he wanted to keep on breathing.

Tartaglia could tell that the guards and maids stationed in your wing were all shaking. He spared no thought for them, postponing their inevitable demise for the kidnapping of his beloved wife.

“Your majesty” Dottore called from behind him.

Tartaglia kept on investigating the crime scene, scouring every detail so as to not miss any possible leads.

“The maids and guards have been questioned” Dottore reported, steeling himself to the cold hard stare of his Archon. Being subjected to it was suffocating, and he wondered how you could maintain eye contact with the Tsar when he was like this.

“I trust that you’ve brought me good news?”

The calmer Tartaglia was, the more pressure Dottore felt. His archon was fickle at best and volatile at worst. Most myths that surrounded him were almost never far from the truth and Dottore had no want nor need to be used as an example.

“Almost” He answered, “While we’ve yet to determine who is behind this attack we’ve narrowed down the list from the means used and there is ample reason to believe that the Tsaritsa has not been harmed.”

The silence was deafening. Dottore couldn’t wait to get out of Tartaglia’s warpath, seclude himself in his lab and experiment on the fools who had let this happen.

“Throw everyone stationed in this wing in the dungeons. Zapolyarny Palace will be in lock down” Tartaglia ordered as he moved out of your marital room and headed towards his former wing.

Dottore hastened to follow from behind, awaiting further orders now that the Tsar had made his move.

“Bring back everyone who entered and left the Palace. Those foolish nobles must have forgotten their place.”

For all of Tartaglia’s genial smiles and affable personality, it shouldn’t be forgotten that he was a man born to fight. One of the three archons from the original seven. A god who could stand toe to toe in the battlefield with Morax.

“As you command!” Dottore replied, face grim and yet he could not hide the excitement in his eyes. He had heard rumors, stories about the days when the entirety of the Snezhnayan ancient noble houses were almost culled in a blood bath.

There was no clear reason on why it had happened and no one dared to ask. But the one detail that remains in every iteration of the story was that the blood from those nobles were the reason for the odd patterns on the low parts of the wall of old establishments within the capital. Patterns that oddly resembled blood stains when seen from a certain angle.

--

You hummed as you saw the snow storm picking up from outside, a visible sign that Tartaglia had already learned your disappearance. You remained at your position by the window, back turned to the door as you listened to the rushing footsteps that were getting closer.

‘I do hope they can amuse me’ You thought just as the doors banged open behind you.

“How did you contact the Tsar?!”

‘Oh~ so it was them?’ You thought with mild amusement, you didn’t bother turning around to greet them.

“Is that the proper tone to use when speaking to your Tsaritsa?” You mocked them, eyes watching their angry face from the window’s reflection.

Behind you was the Count Potemkin, current head of the ancient noble House of Potemkin. Standing beside him was one of your former fiancé candidates, the heir apparent, Matvei.

“Answer me, you disgusting Сука!” Potemkin cursed making his way towards you.

You slowly turned around, a smile on your face just as he reached out to grab you. Before he could even breach your personal space his hand was pierced by ice protruding from the ground. He screamed in agony, clutching his arms as he squealed like a pig.

“Gosh, would you lower your voice? It’s unbecoming for such an ancient bloodline to act like an animal” You chastised as you took a step back and observed the damage.

“Ah, what a shame, I didn’t break your wrist at all” You commented as if you had not precisely calculated to pierce his hand through the most excruciating way.

“You Блять! Let my father go!” Matvei cursed as he struggled on his restraint “You’re no match for our family’s knights!”

You blinked at his words, tilting your head to the side, as if considering his words. He smirked on seeing your action, “That’s right! Even if you’re a harbinger you’re still just one person!”

“Would you stop squealing like a pig? It’s been minutes now, you should have gotten used to the pain!” You turned around to shut Count Potemkin’s mouth. Ice formed on his mouth, starting from the tongue and making its way outwards.

“Ah~ That’s better!” You ignored the pale looks from the father and son, “If you behave, I might just let you keep your mouth but if your son keeps on pissing me off…”

You trailed off, maintaining eye contact with the Count. Your eyes were filled with malice and sadism, “My hand will slip and blow your brains out~”

You smiled, sweet and disgustingly vile as you made your way to the couch and sat in it. The snow storm outside had turned stronger, hail fell through the skies, mixing with the rapidly falling snow. Just from that alone, you could tell that your time to wring out information from them was running out.

“What reason did you have to attempt something as stupid as this?” You asked as you formed ice shards that floated on top your fingertips.

Matvei remained silent.

“Not talking anymore?” Every move of your body was designed to mock them, a display of power that showed how easy it was for you to trample upon them, “I just remembered, the Count was raising his precious daughter outside wasn’t he? A pretty blonde child with green eyes…”

Matvei flinched and stared at you in horror, dread pooling in the pits of his stomach as you spoke,

“Inessa Yakova Potemkin” You laughed softly, “No wonder the Countess died of anger, her dear stupid husband had acknowledge his bastard child, sent her to the palace to be a handmaiden.”

“Imagine what kind of face the Tsar would make if he knew how the Potemkin family insulted me by sending an illegitimate child as a handmaiden” Your ice changed its shape into a dagger, “Even if House Potemkin is an ancient bloodline, it doesn’t erase that your house is lower than my duchal household.”

Matvei screamed in pain as your dagger cleanly sliced off his left ear. You smiled at them coldly, “Start speaking, you should know by now that any resistance would only lead to a painful death...I can’t guarantee your darling sister would be spared from it either.”

In another life, you wouldn’t threaten another’s family. You would have shown mercy but this wasn’t that life. You were the Tsar’s wife, a Harbinger, and most of all the child of Snezhnaya’s strongest ducal house. A slight against you was a slight against everything you stood for.

“Time’s running” You reminded Matvei.

“We couldn’t let you threaten the Tsar’s power! You’re Lord Pulcinella’s niece, a child of House Yusupov. We needed to remove you from the seat of power, at first we planned to get rid of your child but all of our attempts were foiled.”

Another dagger found its way to his thigh. He screamed in pain, wet stain growing on his crotch and you clicked your tongue in disdain.

“Please that’s all we know!”

This time blood spurted out from his father’s left shoulder, some of it landing on you, some on the table in front of you. You didn’t flinch, merely wiping the blood that landed on your face with your gloved hand.

“Father!”

“Let’s do this again, shall we?” You smiled.

“I-I really don’t-”

Spikes of ice burst out from his right thigh.

“Duke Izmaylov! It was him who planned all of this! Duchess Tolstoy funded the operations! Please spare me!”

“How disappointing” You sighed as you made his father’s eyes burst.

You sneered in disgust as Matvei vomited on the marble tiles in front of him. You looked up as you heard heavy footsteps and the sounds of scream echoing beyond the open doors. Moments later, Tartaglia was visibly walking towards you from the other end of the hallway.

“Ah. Time’s up.”

You stood up from the couch and made your way towards your husband, the Tsar, Tartaglia. His cold eyes melted and looked upon you with relief, his hands patted your body, looking for non-existent injuries. You let him do as he pleased, both of you ignoring the dying count and the vomiting Matvei.

“I came as fast as I could” Tartaglia burrowed his face on your neck, ignoring the discomfort from the height difference between the two of you “I thought I’ve lost you.”

You felt your heart ache at his tone, your arms automatically hugging him in comfort, laying a soft kiss to his cheek as you spoke, “I’ll make sure that will never happen.”

You signaled the Fatui waiting behind him to start rounding up the two.

“We’ll have to clean up Two ducal households and five Countdoms” You reported as you gently and comfortably let Ajax’ hand settle on your waist as he led you out of the mansion.

“I’ll handle that. You should take a rest with Teucer, our son was worried today.” Ajax replied as softly as he could but the tenseness had yet to fade away.

You leaned further into his embrace, “Mhm. By the way, the insider was Inessa, you should get rid of all the staff that had a relationship with her. It wouldn’t do if one of her lovers got the idea to avenge her.”

“As you wish.”

--

Three months later the public bore witness to a new cruelty of the Cryo Archon. At Krasnaya Square, a stage was set up, in it were the shackled and chained members of several noble households. Some from the ancient noble houses, and the others from the new nobles.

Tartaglia had intentionally spread the news of your capture and subsequent rescue. He wanted to make a show of power, one you approved of, if only to ensure that his plans for world domination and eventual downfall of Celestia would run smoothly.

Teucer, your 5 yr old son, sat on your lap watching the proceedings from the balcony area. The two of you were surrounded by Fatui guards, new ones. The entire area was secured and security was tight, there was no way a rescue for the condemned would occur.

Tartaglia had made sure of that.

“Close your eyes, dearest” You whispered to your son’s ears.

From below, all of the traitors had blood bursting out of their heads, spikes protruding from the inside of their brains as Pulcinella finished declaring their crimes and their sentence. You hummed a soft tune as Teucer asked, “Mamochka, can I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet dearest, not until Papa comes back.”

You gazed down at the crowd, watching as they rejoiced at the culling before your eyes were drawn at the corner. You smiled at the familiar blonde hair of Inessa, your eyes merciless as she stared at you with hatred.

'Ah, how she must have looked like once she realize all of it was a sham~'

You waved at the crowd from the balcony, pleased that the nobles would now learn to step back in line. You felt your husband’s stare and gave him a loving look.

“Mamochka?”

You sighed in fond exasperation, you figured that he could look now that the bodies were being carted away, “You can open them now, give Papa and the rest a good wave okay?”

Teucer did as you said, more cheers erupting from the crowd upon seeing their beloved Tsarevich waving at them. From his position below, Ajax smiled warmly at the sight of his family being safe and sound. The sun shined brightly in Snezhnaya’s eternal winter.

An auspicious sign from their Cryo Archon.

[dandygirl-4419]

SKZ as psychopaths - Minho version

Trigger warning: death, knives, blood. I do not condone any relationships like this, this is purely for entertainment purposes and if you or someone you know is in a relationship like this please call the domestic abuse hotline or the police and stay safe!!

A/N: if I have any male or NB readers please let me know so I can adjust my stories. These are primarily for girls for now!! Enjoy

Minho drove back home in a daze. He was so exhausted from work all he wanted right now was to see you and hold you. Minho finally pulled up in the driveway killing the car’s engine he dragged his feet into his house. He pulled out his keys and inserted them into the doorknob, the door swung open. Minho swore he locked the door before he left. That should have raised some red flags but he brushed it off thinking that he forgot to lock it in a hurry to get to work.

He dumped his briefcase onto the sofa, loosened his tie with one hand and kicked off his shoes. Being the head of a huge company’s marketing department was not an easy job. It was tedious and exhausting especially when people don’t do as instructed. He loved to be in control and it frustrated him to no one when people couldn't follow simple instructions. Why couldn't they be like you? He'd think to himself, you always followed his commands perfectly and he always was impressed by that aspect. He called out for you but no answer. He assumed you must be in the shower. Minho was famished so he entered the kitchen expecting dinner to be ready but nothing.

It finally clicked. You had left or so he thought. He ran into your shared bedroom throwing the door open to reveal a closet door that hung open and some clothes splayed on the ground. He was right you had left him. He wanted you to himself so he kept you from seeing your family or your friends and this time you had managed to escape him. Minho gritted his teeth and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

He didn’t blame you it could never have been your fault. You were an angel in his eyes. It must have been the neighbors. Yes. They must have whispered lies to you about him and you his poor naïve little Y/N, you believed them and left him. That was the only explanation he had, why else would you leave him? He protected you, loved you, supported you financially and he loved you so much he would do anything for you…….. even murder.

Minho angrily went through drawers looking for a knife. Finally pleased with his choice he stepped out into the cool night air and knocked on his neighbor’s door. They greeted him inviting him inside to play Monopoly with them. The man and his wife were oblivious to your departure but he didn’t know that. To him they were one of the people who drove you away from him, and he would kill everyone who ever knew you to get you back.

He declined their invitation to play with them. Mary, the man’s wife politely excused herself to use the bathroom. As soon as she left Minho moved behind Sam, Mary’s husband. He pulled out his knife behind an unsuspecting Sam and slit his throat while he was sitting in an armchair waiting for his wife’s return. Minho looked at the man in disgust as he continued bleeding onto the chair and the floor around him. Sam was a police officer so Minho took out his handcuffs from Sam’s uniform using that to his advantage.

Mary entered the room again to see her husband bleeding out and Minho with a bloody knife in his hands. Minho grinned like a psychopath, a scream stuck in Mary’s throat begging to be let out. She was frozen in fear her legs refused to work. Minho grabbed her wrist and yanked her over to where her husband was. He handcuffed her to the chair’s leg ignoring the young woman’s pathetic pleas.

“You made my princess leave me. You hurt me and her. Now it’s time for me to return the favor. I would like to see you suffer after losing your husband but you might report me to the police and there's no fun in that.” He shrugged. He seemed oddly carefree about the situation he wasn’t nervous as one would be if they never killed or hurt anyone before.

“No please. Don’t do this. I swear I won’t tell a soul about you or what happened. Please.” Mary begged trying to get Minho to spare her. But he only smirked at her.

“Of course you won’t tell a soul. Because you won’t live to tell anyone.” He drove the blade deep into the side of her stomach. He wanted her to bleed to death. He wanted her to suffer for what she had done. She was going to pay. And she did pay….with her life.

Minho decided to start looking for you tomorrow, for now he would go to a bar to try and drown his sorrows in alcohol. He quickly washed the knife and placed it with the other knives at his house and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt.

At the bar he showed the bodyguards his ID and stepped inside immediately making a beeline for the bar. He asked for a shot of vodka which he downed in one go as soon as it was placed in front of him. He ordered another and the liquid burned down his throat. A girl approached him she looked a bit like you and dressed like you. She whispered naughty things into his ear and pulled him into one of the disgustingly crammed bathroom stalls. The only reason he even followed her was to see what she would try to do and how far he would let the girl go before he snapped at her.

The girl tried moving closer to Minho and even when he was tipsy he knew that wasn’t you. He only wanted you. He pushed the girl back aggressively. “You think looking like her will make me fall for you? Pathetic. You are worthless. No one is like my angel.”

His hands made their way to her neck and he started applying pressure to her neck cutting off her air supply. The stranger desperately tried to claw at his hands in a sad attempt to get free. This only made Minho angrier and caused him to press harder on her throat, completely crushing her wind pipe. The girl went limp in his hands and Minho smiled again satisfied with himself. He couldn't wait to tell you what he had done, you would be so proud that he stopped someone from trying to take him from you.

Minho walked back home stumbling over his own feet but still maintaining balance enough to not fall over. In his fury he forgot to lock the door so he just walked back into his house closing the door behind him. When the door slammed shut he flinched at the sudden noise and turned towards the door placing a finger on his lips and saying “Shhhhh.”

He collapsed onto your shared bed which was now just his bed. He didn’t bother changing clothes or taking off his shoes. He pulled your pillow closer to his chest inhaling the faint scent that would be gone by tomorrow and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning he woke up and took a shower. He threw on some clothes he found lying around in his room, and immediately began looking for you. He looked in the obvious places first such as your parents or relatives houses. All of them said they hadn’t seen you since you moved in with Minho. He killed anyone that looked like you. Anyone with the same sparkly eye color as you or same style of clothes. He missed you and that was his way of coping with it. He hated the thought of anyone trying to replace you.

After hours of searching he finally stumbled across one of your friend’s house. He recalls you telling him that you weren’t good friends with them but then why were you staying with them? Minho decided to write you a note because if he approached you, you might try to run away although you could never outrun him and he would have to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. So he took out a pen and piece of paper from his car and wrote the following:

Baby come back home to me. I miss you so much. I even killed people that tried to look like you because no one could replace you. Come back home. Unless you want more blood on your hands. After all I killed those people for you.

He left the note in front of the door and knocked. He saw you step out of the house and your eyes scanned the paper. He watched your face fall and look at his car. He watched you walk over to his car, opening the door and getting inside. “Let’s go home” you muttered, Minho was so happy to hear those words again. He finally had his princess back.

[uppercuts-and-undercuts]

Harry Hart, Eggsy Unwin, and Hartwin Fangirl/Rant/Headcanon dump

I seriously have so many feelings about these two, I don’t even know where to start. I’m talking full-on emotionally compromised. I can’t even. I am unable to can. Ever since I watched TSS, I’ve been reading and re-reading everything I could get my hands on. Even things that really aren’t my usual preferences. I’ve read everything from time-travel AUs, to fics with kinks I absolutely don’t have (and ones I absolutely do have), ones where Harry is a dragon, or Eggsy gets temporarily turned into a dog... angels/demons, A/B/O, bakery AUs, coffee shop AUs, same age!AUs, soulmates, serial killers, vampires, domestic, PWP, fluff, and essentially every trope I can think of - and probably a good few I can’t even remember. The point is? I love both of these dorks, and Hartwin.

I even force myself to keep reading when things descend into heavier angst than I expected. Too much angst leaves me a total mess. Hence, I try to stay away from anything with tags indicating an enormously bumpy ride. That being said, I’ve fought through a fair few heavy angst pieces, partially because they’re so well written, and partially because I’ve been invested enough to want to see everything work out. Believe me when I say I avoid the ‘unhappy ending’ and ‘major character death’ tags like the fucking plague (unless the MCD tag is accompanied by another tag like ‘but not really’, or ‘temporary’).

But what gets me the most about them, and Hartwin? The many different characterisations all these authors have given them, separately and as a couple, and the fact that they (mostly) just work. Some of them are contradictory, technically. But if you’ve got enough imagination, most of them even work together, even the seemingly ‘opposite’ ones. Some give you the fuzzies, some leave you fanning yourself, and some spark loads of daydreams. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t have a favourite characterisation, or even a complete list of favourite characterisations, because there’s too much! However! I’m going to rant giddily about some for a bit, because I have literally no friends.

Harry Hart:

Brutal elegance in a gorgeous suit

Sarcasm and polite disdain hiding a heart of gold

Morally dubious and manipulative

Daddy AF

Dapper gentleman who says ‘fuck’ a lot

Tall, dark, handsome, and will fuck you up without breaking a sweat

Sex on long legs

Loves all dogs, no matter what size, but weak for the tiny ones

Smoother than smooth

Awkward dork

Has no time for your classist bullshit

Actual tailor

Soft gent with so much love to give

Stoic gent who has no interest in relationships - until a cheeky chav with a heart of gold saunters into his life

King Harry

Makes love gently, coaxing, lovingly

Fucks like he’s being paid for it

Like, seriously, fucks

King of dirty talk

Gently murmuring praise

Loves fiercely

Incredibly possessive, and not even slightly ashamed of it

Repentant dirty old man

Unrepentant dirty old man

Certified Little Shit(™)

Gives zero fucks

Harry Hart-breaker

Super spy

Harry Fucking Hart

Above all, completely gone for Eggsy Unwin

Eggsy Unwin:

Vulnerable smol egg

Heart of gold

Smart-mouthed brat

Experienced street scrapper

Thicc AF

Bloodied knuckles and bleeding heart

Way smarter than people assume

Would literally die and kill for the people he cares about

Friend to animals everywhere - literally a Disney princess

Don’t talk shit about JB, he’ll defend his wheezy baby to the death

Just wants to be loved

Not afraid to tell it like it is - loudly, bluntly, and unashamed

Will ram that silver spoon even further up your arse, if you aren’t careful

Certified Little Shit(™) in training

Plays the idiot so everyone underestimates him

Just as at ease in a bulletproof bespoke suit as he is in trackies and trainers

Just wants to be loved

Prince of parkour

A total nurturer, just wants to take care of the people he loves

Unexpected virgin

Fucks like a champion

Keeps his heart behind heavily fortified walls - until a handsome gentleman in a bespoke suit beats the shit out of his tormentors

Never asks for anything for himself, yet sees Harry and wants

Actually very well read, that you very much

Sugar baby, and proud

Independent and works his ass off to stay that way

Hidden talents - archery, ballroom dancing, circus skills, etc.

Weak for soft older men

Eggsy Unwin, bitches

Head over heels for Harry Hart

As a couple

Disgustingly in love

Domestic husbands

Murder husbands

Both secretly spies

Harry being just as likely to kiss Eggsy’s hand as he is to rim him into next week

Eggsy constantly gets eyed-up by women and (worse, in Harry’s mind) other men. Harry is a jealous little shit, and loves to rub in the fact that Eggsy is completely oblivious to his admirers. Eggsy, of course, is oblivious to his admirers because he’s far too busy admiring Harry

When Harry gets jealous, he’s partial to getting Eggsy into bed (or over his desk, or against a wall, or even on the floor) and fucking him so good he cries. If Eggsy eventually realises what causes those occurrences, it’s only to his benefit.

Eggsy would be jealous over all the people who can’t help but admire Harry, if not for two facts. Firstly, that while he’s oblivious when people are giving him the eye, he’s definitely observant enough to realise that it’s what sets Harry off. Secondly, Harry is so obviously and completely devoted to him that it would be pointless to feel jealous. Why should he worry when he can feel Harry’s big hand settled warmly against the small of his back, brown eyes gazing down at him adoringly, and the smile that he only ever gives Eggsy on his lips?

Harry can’t help but give Eggsy pet names. It began when he first started to become fond of Eggsy it began. My boy, dear boy. Darling boy, eventually. And then, as Eggsy’s cheeky little thieving fingers began reaching out to steal his heart, they came thick and fast. My dear, dearest, darling, sweetling, my love.

Eggsy wasn’t one for using pet names, but he loved when Harry used them for him. For Eggsy, nicknaming was something he did without thought, usually to annoy or amuse. Even Merlin wasn’t safe from his sometimes regrettable attempts at nicknames, Gandalf and Dumbledore being Eggsy’s favourites. But his other half, the love of his life, only had one name Eggsy called him. Because he was Harry. and to Eggsy, Harry meant all the love in his heart, with every breath in his body

Everyone assumes Harry will be the sensible, restrained one of the two. Partially because of their age difference, partially because he always just looks so put together - of course he’d me the more mature. They assume incorrectly. Eggsy is surprisingly good at organising and doing what needs to be done, and can absolutely be serious when he needs/wants to be. Harry, obviously, can’t resist teasing him and making his life difficult during those times. He also finds it hilarious when Eggsy tells him off in front of people who don’t already know their personalities and dynamic

Harry spoils Eggsy whenever the boy lets him. Attention, affection, baths together, cooking for him, bringing him flowers, buying him things, trips and holidays, mind-blowing sex, everything he can think of. Eggsy never asks for anything at all, but Harry would never deny him anything if he did. Harry honestly just wants to give him the world anyway. He would tear the stars from the sky, if he thought Eggsy would like them.

[morbidology]

Have you heard of the Hannah Clarke murder case? It’s recent, from February of this year I think. Her abusive husband committed murder suicide on the entire family after she finally left him. The media attention was disgustingly sympathetic to the husband, automatically pinned it on depression or money troubles despite there not actually being evidence of any (and it’s still not excusable or relevant if there was). It keeps happening with DV cases with men as the abusers bad women as the victims

Yes, I know the case! It’s so heartbreaking, I can’t even begin to imagine the fear they all felt... I recently covered the Tara Brown case on Morbidology Plus for my Patreon supporters and it was an Australian domestic violence case. When I was researching, I saw her parents had spoken about Hannah Clarke when it happened.

[schrijverr]

Reacting to Destiel Pictures

Continuing like normal after everything that had happened. Dean has invited his husband, Cas, again to make a video in which take some time to react to picture of themselves throughout the years

Part of the Famous Husband verse, which is also a series

On AO3.

Ships: Destiel

Warnings: none, but tell me if you want me to tag something for you, cause I’ll do so happily without question!

~~~~ ~~~~~~

“I look like a rat, Dean.” Castiel deadpanned.

“No, you were the cutest ever!” Dean replied.

Cas pouted: “You only say that, because you love me.”

Dean gave him a quick peck and said: “That doesn’t make it less true, angel.”

Then the intro rolled, it was a drawn impala that came down the road, it stopped in the middle of the screen and the drawn Dean gave a wink to the viewers, then he sped off again and the smoke was bridge back to the video.

Hi, Hunters! Welcome back.” Dean smiled, “Today I am with my husband, Castiel, and we’re reacting to old pictures of us.”

“Hello, everyone.” Cas greeted everyone.

“Disclaimer.” Dean said, “For anyone confused about the last time we had Cas on the channel. He did not murder me or brainwash me.”

Castiel nodded, but he did stare into the camera for a moment and Dean had used the moment to edit in a light blue glowing gleam in them. Just because he could and it was fun, he liked feeding the fire.

“Are you ready?” Dean asked, moving on. Cas nodded, then Dean turned to the audience and explained: “We have a laptop here where we are watching the photos, but I will display them on the screen here. Sam picked these images, so we both have no idea what is coming.”

The first image came up, it was from their first year at college. Castiel was sitting behind a desk, thick book in front of him. He had a small familiar frown on his face as he tried to concentrate on the text. Next to him was Dean, he also had a book in front of him, but he was looking into the camera and sticking out his tongue.

Both smiled at the image and Dean lovingly said: “Ahw, you were always a little nerd, weren’t ya.”

Cas rolled his eyes with a fond smile and said: “If I remember correctly, you did quite good in school as well.”

“Yeah,” Dean rubbed the back of his head with a blush and shrugged, “what a stable home life can do for you, you know.”

He clicked through to the next picture. This one was a bit older still at college, but they hadn’t confessed yet, despite both being in love. Dean commented that and noted: “How did we not see how smitten we were?”

Cas laughed: “I don’t know.”

In the picture they were both standing in front of a monument of some sort. Dean had slung his arm over Castiels shoulder and had pulled him close. They weren’t even looking into the camera, lost in each others eyes.

Dean told the camera: “This was after our second year at college. We took a trip with Sammy for the summer. He took this pic of us.”

“That was nice, we went to the beach. You taught me how to swim remember.” Cas said.

Dean smiled at the memory. “Yeah,” he said, “you were very cute. I think I used a picture of that in my fake documentary of you. The ones with the bee sunglasses?”

“Oh, yeah I remember that one.” Castiel laughed.

They went on to the next picture. This was from their graduation, they were both wearing the stupid robes. Cas was hugging Dean from behind, resting his head on Deans shoulder as he looked into the camera with a smile. Dean held the arm that was slung across his chest with two hands and also grinned in the camera.

Cas said: “We had been together for three weeks in this picture.”

“Ahw, look at that baby face.” Dean said, “So young and besotted.”

“You still are.” Cas ribbed him.

Dean just melted and agreed: “Yeah, I am.”

He gave Cas a quick kiss, before moving on to the next picture. That one was of their one year anniversary. They’d climbed a mountain together and asked a stranger on top of it to take a picture of them. Cas was on Deans back, his head resting on Deans head. Both were sweating, but they had smiles that took over their entire faces.

“This was our one year.” Dean explained, “We climbed a mountain. I was so tired when we reached the top.”

Cas nodded: “It’s a miracle we stayed up long enough for the picture.”

“Yeah.” Dean laughed, “I had to sit for like an hour, before we could head back down.”

He clicked to the following photo. It was a selfie he had taken to sent to Sam to explain why he couldn’t come to diner that night. He had completely forgotten about it, but it seemed Sam still had it. Dean smiled apologetically in the picture, while an obviously sick Cas was in the background.

Castiel immediately deadpanned: “I look like a rat, Dean.”

“No, you were the cutest ever!” Dean replied.

Cas pouted: “You only say that, because you love me.

Dean gave him a quick peck and said: “That doesn’t make it less true, angel. You are the cutest ever. I remember you wanted to cuddle the entire time, it was so sweet.”

Cas looked guilty and said: “I remember, you got sick the week after.”

Dean ruffled his hair and reassured him by saying: “And you cared for me, very sweetly. You even asked Ellen to make that soup I like.”

They moved on to the next one. It was one of Dean sleeping in the backseat of the Impala, over him lay a familiar trench coat. Dean asked: “Where does this photo come from?”

“I took it, when we were making that road trip.” Castiel answered, “I sent it to Sam, since he had asked how the trip was going. I believe I captured it ‘Going to wake up the angry bear’”

Dean pouted: “I’m not that grumpy in mornings.”

Cas smiled, but didn’t say anything. Dean looked offended, but his reaction was cut out.

The next picture was the same one they had framed above their bed. It was taken at their wedding. Dean was holding Cas in a bridal-carry, both grinning like idiots.

Both couldn’t help the same stupid grin that took over their faces. Dean said: “This was the best day of my life, I think. Never regretted it, angel.”

Cas smiled at him, eyes filled with love and he quickly embraced Dean as he said: “Me neither. My Dean.”

They stayed like that for a moment, just looking at the picture. Then Dean softly said: “I’m so glad I found you, Cas. I can’t imagine my life without you… or Claire for that matter.”

The last part had been edited out, along with the deep and teary kiss the two shared after it.

When it cut the new picture was shown on screen. Cas was standing at the door, coat already on, bag in hand. He was about to leave, but his tie had been crooked, so Dean was fixing it for him. They both had a fond look in their eyes as they smiled softly. Claire had taken that picture a week ago and sent it to Sam, saying ‘Papa and Pops are being gross again’

Dean smiled and wondered out loud: “When did we get so domestic.”

“Probably around the time we bought a house together and fell into a routine.” Cas said, before realizing it was rhetorical, so he added: “I think it suits us.”

Dean thought about his tumultuous youth and nodded and agreed: “Yeah it does.”

Castiel looked at the picture again, then reached for the laptop. Dean asked: “What are you doing, sunshine?”

“I’m sending this to myself, so I can make it my background.” Castiel answered.

Then it cut to the endcard. Dean said: “That was it for today, hope you enjoyed it.”

“I did.” Castiel said.

Dean smiled at him then turned back to the viewers: “Cas here enjoyed it, so leave a like for Cas. If you don’t want to miss out, subscribe and ring that bell. If you wanna watch more amazing Cas content you can click here and you can click here for just me. Which is also fun and just as handsome, but maybe not what you want.”

“Assbutt.” Cas said with an eyeroll.

“Still not a real swearword, darling.” Dean told him, turning back to the audience he said: “Bye Hunters, see you on the road.”

Then the video ended

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I cried at the wedding photo so

cute, my gay heart can’t take it

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dudes, what’s up with the eye

glowy thing at 00:50 scary

angel Cas is back. I’m scared

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I didn’t know I needed Dean

asleep on the backseat under

Castiels coat until now, but

damn did I need it

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

GUYS?? IS NO ONE

WONDERING WHO TOOK THAT LAST PICTURE? LIKE WHO WAS THERE???

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The fact that Dean got sick

because he couldn’t refuse hugs

from his husband is the best

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Alternate title: husbands being

soft and reminiscing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wtf? Assbutt? Who came up

with that shit? Fucking whack

bro

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ahw they are so disgustingly

sweet

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Do you think Cass knows bear

also has a different meaning with

the gays? Is he innocent? Should

we tell him??

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Dean and Cas: tell us they went

on a road trip

Fanfic writers: WRITE THAT DOWN! WRITE THAT DOWN

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

They look so in love!!!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

[maitretmaitresse]

          @intoxicatiing from x

         Pierre could hardly believe his life, let alone his luck. Finding the girl who had once set his heart ablaze – literally and figuratively – was one thing. Courting her, living with her, planning on marrying her was quite another. His heart was mended, not half as pretty as before, but he didn’t care. Their love was beautiful enough to make up the difference and more. All of Paris was alight with gossip, but it was still just that. Of course he’d been brought up on trial for the murder of her husband, but considering that he hadn’t actually done it, he’d avoided the sentence. A law was hastily added to prevent him or any other smart inventor types from doing the same, but he only needed one get-out-of-jail-free card.

         Isabeau had pushed progress forward. Before, it had only been a townhouse, a sizable portion of which had been converted into a workshop. Now, he brought home flowers and books and they went furniture shopping – it was disgustingly domestic, but he found it bearable with her by his side.

         He grinned back at her, toying around with the idea. As much as he loved flaunting his status, his bad-boy charms, he knew there were some rules he couldn’t break – at least, not without harming her.

                    “The second you’re out of mourning, Isa. You’ll wear my ring yet, I promise.” An extremely gaudy ring that he’d had for months. Only a few more weeks of black and society would release her from his bonds once and for all.

[existingcharactersdiehorribly]

Hannibal S4 Dreams, VI

More of our S4 dreams!

Will & Hannibal still changing each other, but Will doesn't completely give in to his inner darkness.

Hannigram to become even more visually canon, and for Clarice to perhaps be a part of it.

That it happens!!

The return of Team Sassy Science!

The Hannigram sexual tension finally being resolved

I hope that both will and Hannibal are in season 4 together. I can't imagine Bryan's hannibalverse without our darling little brain fever murder diva. I also hope for more puppies but alas that is a dream I fear will never come true. X

This is..kinda headcanon but I want hannigram living together in a house with flowers around

A HANNIGRAM KISS

Happy Murder husbands

I want to see Will and Hannibal make a murder tableau together.

I want season four of Hannibal to take place after the cliff scene after the finale of season three. Will and Hannibal survive and make it to Cuba, much like Bryan Fuller has stated. Jack Crawford has not given up his search for the murderous pair, but they're deep uncover as Hannibal quenches his thirst for blood and hunger for flesh outside the states. Will is slowly but surely accepting his own murderous impulses, and Hannibal helps him hone his skills so that they can continue to remain under the radar. Things take an unexpected turn when another killer is brought to light and goes after Will, testing Hannibal's patience and loyalty.

Hannigram

Hannigram

Hannigram

Hannigram sexy times

Just that it will happen.

Big gay wedding

That it actually happens!!

Hannigram

A proper kiss

Hannigram happiness!

I wish for Hannibal ro finally invite Freddie Lounds to dinner.

well as an avid gardener I hope for some domestic bliss with hanni cooking what will grows. you have no idea how unreasonably happy that would make me

An actual hannigram kiss

Continues with Will and Hannibal through season seven.

Will Graham to be happy for once.

A kiss, a kiss, my kingdom for a KISS!!! (SLOOOOOOOW BURN)

I hope that Hannibal and Will get closer and get a dog named killer. Also I hope clarice starlingt is season if they can.

That Hannibal and Will will run away together and they'd be disgustingly in love and murderous.

Murder Husbands together - hunting together, sorting through all their issues together, and of course, cuddling together. :) Also I want Will to adopt a dog and Hannibal to reluctantly take said dog on walks.

Continued Hannigram! Really, it doesn't matter, as long as we get season four.

Will getting captured, he gets to gloat at Jack about finally knowing himself, and then Hanni breaks him out.

[doctor-who-hears-a-horton]

The Fob Watched Detective (Ten x Rose)

Rating: Teen

Chapter 17/17

The Doctor, having rewritten his biology to get away from the Family of Blood, tells the TARDIS to take himself and Donna to a safe place, and the TARDIS drops his new human persona, Alec Hardy, and Donna Noble, in the one place she knows they’ll be safe: Rose Tyler’s backyard

(This is still a TenxRose story, but Ten is fobwatched as Alec)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

Rose and the Doctor spent a few more hours whispering and laying down together, her head on his chest, and their hands linked together over his stomach.  He told her about his travels with Martha and Dona, and everything that happened.  Rose listened intently, and he asked her about her work at Torchwood.

She shrugged. “Not much to tell. I do a lot of paperwork, but they send me on field missions because I have experience,” she said, “But I really just wanted to work on the Dimension Cannon, and they let me, since I’m the boss’s daughter and all.

The Doctor chuckled a little.  “You do know how terribly difficult and dangerous it is to build a Dimension Cannon?”

“Well, apparently it did something in my favor, even if it isn’t done,” Rose said, “Guess I can tell them to dismantle it now.  Or, wait, do we need to have it to be able to travel between the worlds?”

The Doctor shook his head. “No, we don’t need it. It’s done its job, and the walls aren't going to close up over the little bridge that you made,” he squeezed her shoulder.  “I never thought I’d be able to get to you,” he said softly.

She closed her eyes. “Well, you just needed me to find you,” she said.  “I knew that I was going to have to be the one to do it.”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” He laughed.

“You said it was impossible, I thought you’d… Stopped trying.” “No,” he said, “In my free time, when I wasn’t distracting myself from missing you, I was in the library, trying to find something to get to you.  But everything on my end was coming up empty. It was frustrating, but I think I wouldn’t have ever given up trying. “

That thought warmed her heart, and she was oddly happy to hear it. “I was hoping you wouldn’t forget me,” She said softly, “I thought you might, though, that you’d pick up new companions and realize that I was just ordinary.”

“Well, Rose, you are ordinary, but that is what makes you so bloody fantastic,” he said, laughing a little. “And no, it wasn’t unheard of for me to grow fond of a companion, but… I’ve never been in love with a companion.  Not until you.  You are my favorite person in the universe.”

She smiled and burrowed closer to him. “You’re my favorite.”

“Of course I am!” He said, though his confidence was wavering a little. “I was… I was afraid too, you know,” he said, suddenly tender. “I thought you’d find a human man here and fall in love and get married and.. Have babies.”

“What, you sayin’ you can’t give me babies?” She asked him.

“I-I can but I didn’t want to assume, I mean, assume that that’s something that you’d want, but maybe later we could… Start a family.”

She smiled and pressed her nose into his chest. “Someday,” She said, “Not right now, but… Someday.”

**************

Jackie was terribly relieved that her daughter would still be able to visit, and felt a bit better about her going with the Doctor because of it.  Rose said her goodbyes to the people at Torchwood, as she wouldn’t need her job there anymore, though Pete said that her desk and office would be there if she needed it.  Rose knew he would probably keep it empty in the hope that she would come back to her position.  

“You can always call me and the Doctor if you need help,” Rose said, and Pete agreed.

Mickey was less than surprised that she was going to be going with the Doctor, and he shook the Doctor’s hands, a sort of respect now between them that made Rose feel very happy.  When she was younger, she’d enjoyed them sort-of fighting over her, but now that she was older and more comfortable with herself, she acknowledged that she wanted her best mate to be friends with her… Doctor. Whatever he was now.  She wasn’t sure what he was.  Maybe just hers.

All of this couldn’t stop Rose from feeling a little bit emotional as they went back into the TARDIS, her rucksack with all her newer clothes, and her toiletries and everything.  It felt strange, leaving the life that she had been more or less banished to.  She sighed a little as she looked over her shoulder at her family. Tony didn’t seem to understand where his big sister was going, but he knew who the Doctor was, so he followed it as much as his young mind could.  The Doctor put a hand on Rose’s shoulder and she turned to face him.

“We’ll be back,” he promised her, eyes earnest.  “We will.” She stepped into the TARDIS and heard him shut the door behind all three of them.  She dropped her bag on the floor and turned to look at him, grinning a bit like a loon.  “So, then, Doctor, where are you going to take me?” “Well, you’re going to take me home so I don’t have to hear the two of you have your nightly reunions,” Donna said, a bit of fire in her voice, but she was smiling. “And you’ll pick me up again in two months.”

The Doctor blushed so dark that Rose thought his head might pop off. He stuttered a little and pointed a finger at her. “Now, listen, you- that is just- vulgar.”

Rose had to laugh. “We promise, Donna,” She said, knowing that she was going to want to have another woman about to talk to, and Donna had quickly become one of her closest friends. Not that she was friends with many women in Pete’s World, because most of them were focused on their hair or her money.

“Good! I’m gonna go pack up, and Rose, make sure he introduces you to my granddad, he’d love you.”

Rose laughed and nodded as Donna went back towards the hallway.  Rose turned to the Doctor, who was still standing speechless in the middle of the console room. Rose snorted and patted his shoulder.  “Never thought I’d see you at a loss for words.”

He turned to her and smiled. “I suppose there's a first time for everything,” he told her, sounding a little sheepish.  He regarded her with a loving expression that filled her heart with love of her own towards him.  

“Thank you,” She said softly.

He arched a brow.  “For what?”

“For taking me with you,” She said, “The first time.”

“Rose, I don’t think I would have survived without you,” he admitted. “I was not a good man then, I only thought of the war, but you showed me that I was more than the man who, well, murdered my own kind.” He winced a little. “You made me believe that I could be worth something again.” Rose reached up and cupped his cheek. “You are worth something. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

He smiled and pushed into her touch, bringing his hand up to hold hers in place.  After a moment he leaned forwards and kissed her softly, exhaling through his nose as though he’d been waiting all day to kiss her, which perhaps he had.  

“I’m glad you pressed in my backyard,” she whispered, and he laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.

“Where to now, Doctor?” She asked.  

He pulled back and beamed down at her. “Everywhere,” he promised.

And she believed him.

EPILOUGE

One thing that Donna didn’t like about the times she traveled with the now married couple was their children.  It was a bit much, because Rose and the Doctor’s two children were of course, rambunctious, and now that Jack sometimes traveled with them, it was all too much. That was fine with Donna though, as she now had a husband of her own now, the adorably awkward Lee, and so she didn’t mind too much.  The Doctor missed her, of course, but they visited often.

The Doctor never thought he’d do domestic.  He’d been with Rose again for about five years and they’d already married and had two children, as they had both been keen on not wasting the time that the two of them had together.

Jack, of course, had been disgustingly smug when he realized they’d named their little boy after him, and Sarah Jane had been near tears when she met little Sarah.  

The Doctor came into their room one night after putting the children to bed and stumbled over to the bed, after shutting the door, falling on his face in the bed.

“Are they sleeping?” She asked.

“Uncle Jack promised to read them a story in the morning if they went to bed now,” He said into the blankets.

She giggled and ran her hand through his hair, holding her book with the other hand. “Mm-hm,” She said, moving her hand down to rub her fingers into the muscles at the base of his neck, hoping to release the tension there.  He sighed and scooted up, pressing his face into her leg.

“I’m so tired,’ He said.

“That’s what you get for putting off sleep for so long,” she scolded him.

“I don’t want to waste any time,” he whined.

She looked down at him, closing her book. “You won’t,” she said softly, “You’re here, actively here, with us.  And I couldn’t be happier, Doctor, I really couldn’t.”

He pushed himself up and pressed an almost off-center kiss to her lips before rolling off the bed and starting to change into his pajamas.

“I want to sleep for the next two days,” He complained as he buttoned up his pajama shirt.

“Now you know how I felt when Jack was first born.”

“No, I’m not trying to minimize it, love,” He said, crawling under the covers with her.

“I know,” Rose said, setting her book aside.  “And we’ll get some rest now, all right?”  

He hummed and crawled over to her, cuddling up against her. She laughed and wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

It was quiet for several moments, in the dark of their room, and he whispered carefully, “Have you realized that you’re not aging?” “What?”

He licked her cheek. “Your hormones and chemicals aren’t changing or aging.”

“And what does that mean?” She asked, dismissing the idea that him licking her cheek was weird.  

“It means you’re not aging,” he said simply.

“Doctor?” “Yeah?”

“Can we deal with this in the morning? I just want to cuddle you right now.”

“Of course, love.”

He fell asleep up against her and found that perhaps the universe owed him this. A family and a woman who just might be at his side forever.

[savemehannibal]

THEY SO RAAAAAA

THEY CONSUME MY THOUGHTS

bit by the shirtless man bug