#head canons are fine but to shove your own delusional head canons down others throats bruh I will end you these ppl are insufferable period

[kavehater]

I hate ppl like this

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART TWO -A Rogue One Fanfic

Again, mostly just getting my headcanon straight for a close-to-canon Rogue One AU in which Cassian and Jyn survive. I feel like she may seem a little OOC as I’m writing her, but at the same time, I feel like everything that happened in Rogue One, especially on Scarif would’ve messed her up.

(Read Part One)

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Two

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Angst? A little bit of “torture” (for a good cause)?

Words: 856

Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

8 Days earlier...

“We’ve reached Yavin 4. You’re going to need to get them to give us clearance.”

“I’m not officially part of the Alliance.”

“Well, get up here and convince them.”

“No.” Jyn pointed the blaster at the Imperial pilot’s face, tightening her hold on Cassian’s unconscious body draped in her lap where she sat on the floor of the shuttle. “You convince them or I’ll shoot you in the face.”

The smart thing maybe would’ve been to get on the radio herself, but she could not abandon Cassian. Not for even a few minutes. She just… couldn’t let go of him.

“If I don’t convince them, you likely won’t have time to shoot me in the face before your Alliance friends blast us all away.”

The infuriating Imp with a strong sense of self-preservation had a point. But what he didn’t seem to be understanding was that Jyn wouldn’t do any better at convincing them who they were, to allow them to land.

Dank Farrik.

If her suspicions about the extent of the man’s injuries were at all accurate, this was going to be unpleasant. Jyn made an attempt at gentle rousing, running the backs of her fingers over his stubble-laden cheek and jaw, speaking his name low but clear.

“Cassian, I need you to wake up. You’ve got to give us a code or something. We’re almost home. Wake-up, Cassian.”

The muscles in his face twitched and the grimace contorting his mouth softened, but there was no movement beneath his eyelids and his breathing remained the same labored but steady cadence.

“Don’t make me do this, Cassian. Come on. Just wake up!” She stroked his cheek again, gave him a little shake, but to no effect.

“They’re requesting we identify ourselves,” the pilot said, his voice becoming strained.

“Then tell them who we are!” Jyn shouted, still no signs of consciousness from Cassian. “We escaped the destruction of Scarif. Give them our names, for all the good it will do. Jyn Erso. Captain Cassian Andor. He’s in need of medical attention.”

The pilot repeated their names over the open frequency. There was a brief pause. Jyn held her breath. But then the Imp swore. He couldn’t be looking forward to being a POW. But the man seemed to have the opposite of a death wish, and was practical. He’d given little protest when she’d shoved a blaster in his face and told him to fly the ship off Scarif as fast as was humanly possible. And now he was as determined to get to Yavin base as she was. Or, not get shot out of the sky, anyway.

“They’re asking for a code.”

Jyn swore.

She shook Cassian. Hard. Shouted for him to wake up. A pathetic moan escaped him and his eyes fluttered open briefly, but then closed again.

“Fine. This is going to hurt, but you’re not going to make it at all if we can’t land.” Jyn leaned down to whisper in his ear as she slid her hand beneath his shirt over hot, taut skin. “I’m sorry.”

She dug her fingers into the blaster wound on his side, feeling the seared, raw, oozing flesh give way as her fingertips sunk into the puncture at the center of the wound. His body immediately jerked and stiffened and then wrenched away from her grasp, curling in on itself.

Cassian cried out in agony and she felt bile leap up the back of her throat.

But he was wide awake now. Panting and bewildered.

She grabbed his arms. His dark eyes, glassy and dilated black with pain, focused on her face.

“If this is what being dead feels like,” he said, his breathing ragged. “I think I choose to live.”

“Good.” She smiled. Cassian was a fighter. “Do you have some sort of code to confirm your identity with the Alliance?”

“What?” He blinked at her, panting hard, one hand cradling the blaster wound she’d maliciously poked, the other reaching to clumsily touch her face, knuckles gently brushing her cheek. What was he…? He was delusional with pain.

“Cassian, please. Your code. So the rebels know it’s you and let us land.” She bit her tongue on the pleas attempting to force their way up her throat, that he needed medical attention, that he was probably going to die in her arms if they were turned away from Yavin 4. And she couldn’t, Force help her, lose another person today. Especially not him. But she’d contemplate why that was some other time. “Please.”

“Fulcrum. Alpha. Three. Six. Two.”

Cassian’s body promptly went limp in her arms again, but he was still breathing. And Jyn sighed in relief before relaying the rebel intelligence officer’s code to the pilot, to the base which would be their salvation.

She fought the tears when they were granted clearance and finally landed to find a team of medics waiting to take the wounded captain into their care. And she knew it was for the best, she knew she should allow herself to be whisked off to get her own blaster wound treated, but she just… couldn’t let go of him.

Read Part Three

[whumpmatsus]

Atsushi x Todo. Maybe Todomatsu has a ankle dislocation after a bike crash and Atsushi being the supportive boyfriend brings him to the Hospital and stays overnight?

aah, I don't really ship them?? I mean, I like them as friends, but for some reason I don't ship any of the canon characters together/like any of the canon ships and I like to focus on reader inserts and family fics with the brothers XD

but I'm fine to write these two in a shippy thing though, interesting dynamic to explore, and I headcanon Totty as pansexual, so, no problems writing it occasionally!

I hope it's okay haha, I've never written Atsushi before and he's not my usual 'type' so it might not be that great, hopefully still enjoyable tho <3

-

“Totty…”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you should be taking pictures of it? … And posting them??”

Totty snaps one more photo of his injured foot, giving a small cringe as he looks at the screen to put a filter on it. “Well, yeah… how else are people gonna know that I’m in pain and need attention?”

Atsushi rolls his eyes and pulls out his own cellphone. Far be it from him to tell his boyfriend what to do online, but… “The drugs are probably kicking in. You’re delusional.”

“Noooo…” Totty frowns as he glances away from his phone to focus on his ankle for a minute. Although they did give him some painkillers, and it feels better than it did when he first got here, it’s not great. This serves him right for thinking only shoulders could get dislocated, doesn’t it? “It still hurts. Look at it!”

“Yeah, I’m looking at it, babe.”

“Ooh, perv.” He wiggles his toes with a playful grin. “Is this what turns you on? Feet? And just when I thought I had all your kinks figured out. Hey, you can touch it, if you really want.”

Atsushi’s response is to, with the most deadpan look on his face, poke a single digit against Totty’s ankle. Not enough pressure that someone could accuse him of being cruel, though it might get the point across.

Predictably, the other man jumps about a mile. That simple touch sent an electric shock through his body, like someone had just rubbed salt in an open wound. “OW! Oh, my God, that hurt!!”

“Kind of my point.” To apologize, he reaches over to take Totty’s hand, rubbing the side gently with one thumb. “Do you really need to be giving your almost-broken-ankle a photo shoot and scumming for sympathy online? I’m right here to give you some, and you’ve also, you know… got five brothers who are gonna swarm all over you when I take you home.”

Totty huffs and brings Atsushi’s hand up to press against his cheek. He’s partially right, anyway. “Yeah, okay. Karamatsu’s gonna write an entire Greek tragedy about my suffering, Ichimatsu’s gonna withhold an ice pack till I’ve sufficiently begged for it, Choromatsu’s gonna lecture me about wearing fucking ankle pads, Jyushimatsu will end up hitting it with his baseball bat, and Osomatsu will make me hobble to the fridge and get him a beer. They’re pricks.”

“Tch, they’re also your brothers. Don’t forget you’re a prick, too. You belong to them, so they won’t be that bad. They’ll circle around you chanting, ‘One of us, one of us’ and shove aspirin down your throat.” Atsushi’s eyes drift back down to the injury, and he finds himself wincing.

Honestly, it looks like Totty’s ankle went a few rounds with a sledgehammer. It’s swollen all the way down to the base where his toes meet the rest, and mottled with purplish-blue bruises. Despite the fact that it looks a lot better than the bloody, twisted mess it was when he first got Totty to the hospital, it’s certainly not any less painful.

Seems like Totty is thinking the same thing, because his hand drifts down for his fingertips to brush against it. He jolts again, just like he did when his boyfriend touched it. A tiny whimper slips out and a shoulder catches his head when he leans over for a pity party. “Owwww… dammit. This sucks! How am I supposed to do anything like this? I’m gonna be useless for… how long did the doctor say? Six to eight weeks?”

“Yeah, well, everyone else is gonna have to pick up the slack. I’ll do what I can, you know? At least you don’t live on your own.” Atsushi circles an arm around Totty’s shoulders with a sigh. “And I’m sure your boss will give you a break since you’re, like… broken bone adjacent. It’s not like you’re gonna be sitting around in pain and unable to do anything. You’re so dramatic.”

Totty hums. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, though, right?”

“Yep.” Atsushi kisses his cheek, prompting Totty to melt into the embrace fully, complete with fake-flustered cooing noises. “If you really feel like you need to take pictures and beg people to feel sorry for you online, go ahead and do it. But just remember who’s feeling the most sorry for you, who’s here in real life, and who’s willing to kiss the pain away.”

“Awww… so poetic. Huh, maybe I can take some pictures later and show people how great you’re taking care of me! Right? That would be fun.” Totty grins and pulls his injured ankle a little closer, still pouting at it.

Atsushi snorts as he takes another look at the injury. “Damn. Guess that’s the last time you try to show off for the ladies at my office by showing them how environmentally conscious you are, riding a bike to visit me. Why are you even trying to impress other people, anyway? I’m, like… right here. Perfect hair and all, you know.”

“Wow, who’s being dramatic now?” Totty laughs. “I’m happy with you. Buuuut, if we impress girls, we get a chance at a threesome. Huh, gee, though… you’re right about how we try to do it. The bike thing is played out. Who am I trying to fool? I already go to the gym and walk most places, I don’t need to ride a bike.”

Geez. “Never a dull moment with you, Totty.” He leans over to shut his boyfriend up with another kiss, this time on the lips. “You’ll apparently have plenty of time to brainstorm strategies, lazing around with that hurt foot and all. Luckily, though, the only person who’ll be around to take advantage of your stupid puppy face is me.”

Totty raises an eyebrow and flutters his eyes to get another kiss, humming into the contact. “Oh, good. Because I was thinking, my brothers will probably fawn over me for the first day or so, I can milk it that long, I think, but… after that, they’ll get sick of me asking for stuff pretty quick.”

He hooks both arms around Atsushi’s neck. “Soooo, after those first few days… they’ll be pretty happy for me to go sleep over at your house so you can deal with me. Hell, I bet they’ll send you a fruit basket for putting up with my needy ass! Maybe after I’ve gotten a bunch of pity from them, I can crash at your place for a few days.”

“Hm.” Atsushi presses his forehead against Totty’s with a devious smirk that shows they’re definitely on the same wavelength. “Then after a few days with me… they’ll be missing you and wanting to fuss over you again. Rinse and repeat. You get literally all of the attention from everyone, your brothers treat me like a saint for dealing with you, and they’re all way too dumb to realize they’re being yo-yo’d into taking care of you and your ego.”

Totty squeals and snuggles close, being careful not to bump his foot when he moves. “Oh, my God. I knew there was a reason I loved you!”

“Besides my ass, you mean?”

“… Oh. Yeah. Besides that, uh-huh.”

[felix-loves-albert-and-ralb-blog]

Losing My Mind (Part 1)

pairings: probably ralbert??? either jackcrutchie or javid idk which yet???? definitely blush, definitely spromeo, i’m gonna try to squeeze in newsbians if i can

warnings: violence, blood, burns, abuse, self-loathing, swearing

take the warnings seriously please! there’s gonna be heavy stuff here!

canon era

Race’s POV

(i know the formatting is weird right now, i’m still trying to figure it out)

This is bad.

That’s the first thing I think when I open my eyes. I recognize the Refuge immediately, the cramped bunks and barred window. The wooden door at the front of the room.

I can’t lose my shit though, no matter how much I want to.

I have to stay calm.

I can’t curl up in a ball and cry my eyes out, wanting to escape.

I have to just suck it up and stay calm.

Figure out a plan.

So I guess first I should assess my injuries.

My lip is split, and there is blood dripping from it down my chin and splattering onto my shirt. There’s a cut running down my upper arm. My head hurts. Why is that? I lift my hand, and I can feel partially dried blood on the back of my head, sticky and warm. My hand is stained red when I pull it away. That would explain my headache I guess.

Okay, injuries assessed.

Mental health time.

I reach into my pocket and find I still have a cigar on me. I put it in my mouth, knowing I’ll need the small bit of stress relief it brings.

Coping mechanism acquired.

Next, I look around the room to see if I know anyone else. I do, in fact. I know everyone else. The warm body next to me is Albert, across the room is JoJo and Elmer, right next to my bunk is one holding Davey and Les, each bed is full of my brothers. This isn’t good. I take count of who’s here, figuring I should since I’m the only one awake, and all 24 of us are here. Well, not exactly all 24. Because I count 24, but Jack and Crutchie are nowhere to be found. I count again, but it’s the same. Who are the other two people? Spot and Smalls. They were at the rally too. “Ro?” Specs’ fatigued voice mumbles. He’s sitting up, rubbing the frames of his glasses. “Mornin’ Specs.” I say dimly. “Where-oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Everyone here?” “If you replace Jack an’ Crutchie with Spot an’ Smalls, yeah.” “You alright?” “Perfectly fine.” I try not to let him hear the strain in my voice.

I am fine.

I have to be fine.

If I’m not fine, if Specs isn’t fine, everything falls apart. “Where are we?” Davey’s awake now. I guess it won’t be too long until everyone is up. “Welcome to the Refuge, pal.” I say. “The fuck?!?” “Nice ta see you too, Al.” More and more people start waking up, all taking the news in their own ways, and I try my hardest to be positive. Jack’s not here, so I have to be the leader. I have to be the one to stay calm and keep everything under control. I have to be the one to address the fact that there are heavy footsteps outside the door, and that it’s no doubt Snyder the Spider. I have to be the one to stand at the front of the room, waiting for the door to open.

And so the door opens, and I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever might come next.

Snyder the Spider steps through the door, just as I expected. “Evenin’, Spider!” My natural charisma takes over, shoving my fear away, and I plaster a shit-eating grin on my face. “You’re in charge, I suppose.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. “Temporarily, yeah.” “I guess you’re right. You can’t be in charge if you’re dead.” It’s such a casual threat that I almost don’t catch it.

Almost.

“I meant until Jack is able to take charge.” I say through gritted teeth.

“I’m afraid that won’t be happening anytime soon.” “An’ why is that?” “Pulitzer gave him a deal. He’s probably halfway to Santa Fe by now.” “You’re lying.” “You’re delusional.” “Why’d ya even come here then?” “I have a gift, if you’re willing to pay the price for it.” “Ain’t gifts usually free?” “Not this one.” Crutchie isn’t even conscious when the guard drags him in. “Willing to listen now?” Snyder asks, and now he’s the one grinning. “What do you want.”

I can’t lose my shit now.

I can’t focus on how pale Crutchie looks or how much blood he is covered in.

I just have to make sure that he’s okay and that everyone else is okay.

My wellbeing comes second. “One of you to take his place.” “Fine. Take me.” I say immediately, before anyone else can even think about volunteering themselves. “Race!” “Shut up, Al.” “Racer, I swear-“ “Spot! Shut up!” “Quite the leader.” Snyder smirks, exiting the room again. I have no choice but to follow. We reach the basement after an excruciatingly long journey through the Refuge, passing bunk rooms and occasionally hearing cries or whimpers from inside.

I realize this is the first time I’ve walked down the basement stairs. Every other time I’ve been thrown, dragged, or shoved. “On your knees, boy.” Snyder commands roughly. “Or what?” “Or I can easily replace you.” I glare at him and kneel down on the floor.

I feel disgusting inside.

“Take off your shirt.”

I know what’s coming, or I can guess at least, and a tight knot forms in my throat as I pull off my vest and overshirt. I hear the striking of a match as I pull off my undershirt. Snyder plucks my cigar out of my mouth and touches the end of it to the match tip. It glows red and hot. Snyder drops the match on the ground, stomping it out with his boot. And then, without so much a warning, he begins. The scent of burning flesh slowly starts to fill the basement as more and more burns are pressed into my bare skin. I scream in pain when I feel white hot fire press down on freshly scarred over cuts, not being able to hold myself together any longer. I know this is what he wants, and I know that everyone upstairs can hear me, but I’ve grown unaccustomed to burns, especially ones placed in a new location. I can take a beating, I could take a thousand beatings, but there’s always a special kind of torture that Snyder delights in. A kind of torture that doesn’t just destroy you physically. A kind of torture where he gets in our mind, invades your thoughts, and clouds your thinking. A kind of torture where in between the screams, he whispers. He whispers threats and promises, slurs and insults, each one of them making me slightly more unhinged.

And my screams never seem to end.

No matter how much I hate myself for begging, for screaming for mercy, I keep on going.

Because each time the cigar is pressed into my skin is a reminder of all of my failures.

Not only am I back in this hell, so is everyone I care about.

I can handle physical pain, but the emotional toll is just too much.

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