#i wish he was real what the fuck

[sunsburns]

will never not think about drooling all over logan howlett’s thick, strong arm as he holds you in a headlock (18+)

he’s splitting you open from behind with a steady, strong pace. you can hardly move, the weight of his body against you, using it to press you into the bed, and each thrust of his hips has you moaning loud into the crook of his arm.

how your body melts, eyes rolling back, unable to string coherent words other than his name, still a little dizzy from the way he had pushed your head down against the sheets earlier. but now his one free hand is running lines up your sides, and lips wet lips against your ear, letting you hear the low grunts and groans he limits himself to.

sometimes logan lets you hear an occasional, breathless “fuck,” or a choked moan when you squeeze against him.

he brings a string of kisses and nips up your nape, so he can kiss your cheek. it’s sweet, a gentle gesture, only amplifying the pleasure that each deep snap of his hips brings, lulling you to euphoria.

you could die there, happily, in the embrace of his arms, the heat of his body while his cock fills you entirely, fucking you so perfectly, claiming you with teeth at your neck, rasping your name against your skin.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

Something something Merlin is Arthur's bane.

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[bacchuschucklefuck]

prayer of the day:

[front-facing-pokemon]

[teebeeache1234]

oh my god i just finished watching the rapture for the first time and i don't think a show has ever been this peak holy crap misha collins take my first born child

[blamemma]

there’s so many things that daniel paved the way for in this sport that he does not get credited or appreciated for and it’s just interesting to me.....fun helmets....the reveal videos....youtube vlogs....bright and fun and different merchandise...the reserve driver role being something big and something needing fanfare...he truly is the blueprint.

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[gingerteaonthetardis]

#sure, jan

[karleksmumskladdkaka]

Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol.3 Mukami Ruki Stellaworth Tokuten Bromide & Short Story Paper

Originally, these were tokutens you'd get for buying Ruki's CD through the Stellaworth store. Nowadays you might find them sold at flea markets or second hand stores. The story is written from Ruki's POV, and takes place right after the ending of his CD, with him and Yui still on the rooftop.

Enjoy the angst (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)d

(Don't repost anywhere!)

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Alpha & Ifrit angst wooooo. Also PLEASE tell me if my use of the past and especially the "had been ...-ed" form is correct or not, it's late, I'm having a huge brain lag and i'm losing my english.

Alpha only had Ifrit for three weeks and if anything happened to the younger fire ghoul, he would kill everyone in the room and then himself.

Alpha's barely exagerating. It's crazy how quickly his new student adorable little fuck mentee hope ? burden managed to burrow himself under Alpha's skin.

Thing is, Ifrit is impossible to dislike. His smile is too bright to hate, digging dimples into his cheeks whenever it graces the fire ghoul's face. Ifrit is a ray of a sunshine, a crackling bonefire illuminating happy faces. His enthusiasm and interest in everything is so terribly endearing, the way he wears his heart on his sleeve a testament to just how good the younger fire ghoul is.

The exact opposite of Alpha.

Ifrit has none of Alpha's acidic, rancid anger festering under his skin, none of the spark of agression dancing in Alpha's tone at the slightest inconvenience, none of the bitterness tainting Alpha's vision of the world.

Sometimes, it hurts to look at Ifrit. To see what Alpha could have been, might have been at some point, before life fucked him over time and time again. A comforting warmth instead of an unbearable heat. A sparkling-eyed, mischievious creature, instead of a closed-off, destructive monster.

The thought of seeing Ifrit lose that spark keeps Alpha up at night.

He cannot let this happen. He cannot let history repeat itself, let another fire ghoul get taken appart until all is left is a rotten core.

Alpha will always remember his first lesson with Ifrit. The younger ghoul was eager, tail wagging in excitement, bouncing on the ball of his feet. Alpha felt like a knife had been plunged into his heart ; and as always, his response to such an intense, unexpected emotion was anger. He snapped at Ifrit, telling him to settle the fuck down.

And Ifrit, sweet, darling Ifrit, smiled, tail wrapping around his leg. Stilled, like he had been asked to. Alpha immediately felt bad. But what could he do ? His venom had been spilled already, there was no taking it back. Still, his face twisted as guilt burnt in his throat.

"It's okay," Ifrit suddenly humed, looking so terribly earnest, "Your anger, your furstration. I understand. And I can take it."

Alpha nearly choked on remorse upon hearing that. Ifrit was much more observant than he had thought. And he apparently was a huge self-sacrificing idiot. Alpha wanted to shake him, to grab him by the shoulder and tell him to run, far, far away from him, from this wicked world that mercilessly breaks all that's good.

Instead, Alpha tightened his hand into a fist, and growled, low and threatening.

"You can't. Neither should you, or will you."

You don't deserve this had been left unsaid.

Ever since that day, Ifrit seems to have taken it upon himself to bring out all the sides of himself Alpha thought were gone.

The first time he called Ifrit "kit", in an appreciative manner after the younger fire ghoul had managed a tricky riff in very little time, Alpha knew there would be no going back.

Ifrit wormed his way into Alpha's not-so-stony heart and he is here to stay.

And if Alpha has to shoulder all the shit life brings to keep Ifrit unmarred by it, then so be it.

As Alpha watches his promising student wrestle with Aether, he isn't surprised to feel Omega press up against him, one arm wrapping around the fire ghoul's waist. Omega's thoughts nudge Alpha's, echo in the fire ghoul's brain.

I know. Me too.

[fraternum-momentum]

WE'RE GETTING EVICTED FROM OUR APARTMENT.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[fried-manto]

🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

[meowsticmarvels]

the concept of delta engineering the decision game so he and phi can be born is kinda funny he's like ok so i have to worsen my parents' existing ptsd so me and my Stupid ass sister I Guess will be born witj magic powers and shes also gonna have worsened ptsd as a result. this is a Necessary evil Life is Simply Unfair :/