#he makes me weep

[fettuccin-e]

I am high as fuck rn and I started getting all mushy and emotional abt my catholic upbringing and like losing faith and THEN I started getting emotional abt sweet Frankie and then I just started writing and this is horribly unedited and written in prob like 5 minutes pls be nice to me i am fragile lol (there is like a lot blasphemy in this and also cunnilingus just be warned hehe)

~~~

Frankie doesn’t pray much these days. His mamá raised him in the eye of the Lord, church every Sunday in his very best, hands folded in front of him. Christmas masses, Easter Sundays.

After he went into Delta, he lost sight of God, of everything he’d ever gleaned from the old dusty bibles laying around his childhood home. Any semblance of faith wiped away and replaced with blood on his hands, a gun braced against his shoulder. Faith was beaten out of him and replaced with blind patriotism before he too was left behind. Forced to return to society broken and used and hopeless.

But you. You showed him different, showed him how to live again. You found him, a broken man working to leave behind a drug-addled past, with a daughter visiting every other weekend and an ex-wife wanting nothing to do with him.

He finds it funny that you met him just outside of a church, at the Salvation Army store the next building over. Trash bags full of old clothes weighing down your shoulders, a grateful smile when he offered to help. And he swears, in that moment, he saw a glimpse of God in your smile.

And in the months since that day, between countless dates and fights and sex and sweet kisses in the morning light, Frankie thinks he finds faith again.

Frankie doesn’t pray much anymore, except between your thighs.

In the evening quiet, crickets chirping outside and soft sounds coming from the old television in your living room, Frankie finds salvation on his knees.

He whispers his prayers in sweet nothings against your skin, begging you for love, for your patience, for your saving grace. You’re happy to provide, a far more loving god than the one he grew up believing in.

He drinks up the wetness of your cunt like the blood of Christ, relishing in the taste of you on his tongue. You’re soft and sweet and forgiving.

You absolve his sins with your fingers curling through his hair, your praise filtering in his ears. He devotes his mind, his body, his soul to you as you suck in air through your teeth, letting him bring you to orgasm over and over and over again.

This is his penance, his confession. No priest or military general can hurt him here. He is safe, he is not alone.

So when you tug him up from between your legs to meet him in a soft, slow kiss, Frankie finally feels free. Free of pain and suffering, of responsibility and guilt.

He doesn’t mind if heaven waits for him after death, as long as he gets this one life with you.

[clownery-and-fuckery]

There's something so agonisingly soft about the way Tech agrees wholeheartedly with Omega that "Yes, there are horrible and cruel things happening everywhere all the time even though we spent our lives fighting to stop it, and now we probably won't ever will, and that devastates me" but he then completely flips that sentiment on his head and tells her there are people like her. there are people like his brothers. who are nothing but good and try everything they can to do the right thing, and thats something. It's not inherently a something that will change the entire galaxy, but it's something. and that something means everything to Tech.

[euthymiya]

wahhh what do you think about an alhaitham's wifey who has cooking as a love language :3

AS SOMEONE WHOS LOVE LANGUAGE IS COOKING I THINK GREATLY ABOUT IT

I think in general, sumeru culture in-game stems off of a number of cultures in the real world where cooking is a big central part in family and gathering and love. It’s something he grew up seeing, hearing, and wondering about. A wedding in the family so you all gather at the home of the bride/groom and feast. A reunion so everyone brings a dish or two and celebrates seeing each other after so long. A pregnancy announced so everyone surprises the mother-to-be with a meal of her favorites. It’s just all so much love and warmth tucked into every dish laid out on the table—and Alhaitham is not stranger to love beared through food.

Grandmother had always cooked his favorites growing up. When he mastered a particularly hard book. When he was feeling glum and tired. When he was under the weather and caught something. There was always something waiting for him that reminded him that someone cared.

He hasn’t felt that in a rather long time. Too long to really even remember what sharing a meal over love even feels like—but then he comes home.

It smells good. Warm. Spices in the air that are familiar enough to know it’s his favorite. You’re in the kitchen humming, yelping a little when you almost knock over a bowl clumsily before fumbling to catch it and return back to your hard work. He chuckles to himself quietly, fondly shaking his head.

Love smells like warm spices in the air. Tastes like meat stew made by the same hands that always hold his. Feels like soft hips under his palms as they grab you from behind and pull you flush against his chest for a kiss to your shoulder.

“What’s going on here?” He hums, looking into the pot over your shoulder.

“I’m making your favorite,” you beam.

“I can see that,” he grins. It’s small, but never lackluster. “How sweet.”

Love is a lot of things. Most importantly, he thinks though, love sounds like your voice as it hums his name happily.

[indridthemoth]

thinking ab kakashi and his survivor’s guilt again

[doctorspaceman]

Physically incapable of working today because I can't stop thinking about the hated milk machine.

[hak]

ageha taking “dirty work” on behalf of the tatara group ENOUGHHHHHH LIE DOWN AND SLEEP DUDE…. NO MORE

[seavoice]

the character of william hill...

[sophsun1]

9-1-1 – 8.06: Confessions

[g-raec]

in agony of the minecraft movie, some old herobrine works

[pauls-mescal]

STEVE HARRINGTON

Stranger Things: S04E09 - The Piggyback

[ghostsessioned]

when the when when the

[spiritsong]

I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more

(theory: what if lucanis is actually a bird 🤔 jk I just wanted an excuse to howl-ify him) (also please no spoilers in the tags thank youuu)

[crybaby-bkg]

you know what’s absolutely terrifying???? having to cut a baby’s nails………

Katsuki has to cut your baby’s fingernails when he discovers a tiny little scratch by her eye one morning. it’s barely there, a small thing, but it’s there, marring her little face nonetheless. he frowns at her when he holds her the next morning, her dreamy eyes alert and blinking up at him, she smiles.

“Now I gotta cut yer claws down,” he mutters to her, voice quiet as to not wake your sleeping form in the bedroom. he pads throughout the house with her chubby face resting on his shoulder, her gums gnawing at his bare skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

he finds himself in a conundrum though, once he realizes just how fucking—how sharp the damn clippers are. they’re tiny, lavender in color, but they’re meant to cut though the nail with such precision. and yes, he’s a pro hero, has had to adopt the title of EMT, firefighter, emergency surgeon a few times in his life when need be.

but…those people weren’t his baby girl. they weren’t this tiny and precious, and they never looked up at him with a face so similar to his, it makes his heart squeeze tight in his chest. he frowns at her again, even deeper, and this makes her hiccup a little giggle, gummy smile spreading wide.

“You’re only gonna wear mittens from here on out,” he grumbles after a while, finally daring to pick up a tiny hand that she instantly curls around his thick finger. it’s the cutest image, he thinks to himself, but he catches sight of the jagged nail, the culprit. his heart squeezes even tighter though, when he realizes that he can’t protect her from every hurt in the world, even if the hurt comes from her own hands. and the realization is an aching one, but he tells himself that he, at least, can patch her up.

you walk in minutes later, find Bakugou curled over your daughter in the rocking chair he built for her room. his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed. your daughter babbles to him the whole time, her sweet voice cooing the softest little noises that he responds back to.

“I know, I know,” he mumbles to her. “Ya don’t like baths, and don’t like your nails cut, either. What other shit do you hate, huh?” he asks, and she seemingly responds with a long, sighed out coo. it makes him smile, despite the way his hands slightly shake when he cuts the next nail. he’s terrified, of somehow hurting her even more, of cutting too close, of scratching her. but he treks on, and kisses her fat little fingers every time he clips another nail.

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

I've been utterly fascinated by Good (better? nicer?) Chase design by @lizard-color4 from this post and desperately wanted to know more. Who's this man? What's his story? Why is his hand bandaged? Why is his fashion taste is so much better than Original Chase? And why the hell does his hug looks so nice??

so i um, decided to explore his design a little ;D

also bonus+ sorta?? continuation / my take on the after hug because i really craved more of that

bonus++ a silly doodle of my first attempt on his design because why not

[qpjianghu]

 “It’s not that you don’t forgive others... it’s that you refuse to forgive yourself.”

Li Xiangyi / Li Lianhua - Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Ep. 40

[recents]

so we all know astarion was named after the minotaur of greek myth, who, despite widely known as the minotaur (“bull of minos”), was named astarion/asterion (“starry one”) by his mother at birth. asterion the minotaur was trapped in a labyrinth and cursed to devour virginal men and women thrown in there as sacrifices.

”The House of Asterion” is a 1947 short story by Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges that retells the story of the minotaur from the minotaur’s point of view. it’s one of his best early short stories and it’s very short, only 3 pages long. you can read it here.

borges is in my top 3 favorite writers of all time, and “The House of Asterion” obviously deserves to be considered on its own merits, so i feel slightly irreverent connecting this text to a recent video game. but i reread this short story today and there was much to think about, there were many more seeds planted in my mind in terms of interpretations of the minotaur myth and how asterion the minotaur relates to the story of astarion the vampire. i think it will for you, too.

anyway. if you don’t click through and read it, please at least read how it ends, remembering, of course, that the speaker is asterion the minotaur:

:)