#just when you think there’s no possible way it can get worse

[lost-in-fandoms]

"Tell me again."

Max hums, moving his hand in slow circles along Daniel's back, feeling his chest move against his side, his face hidden in the folds of Max's t-shirt.

He bows his head, pressing a kiss against Daniel's hair, shifting against the hotel's pillows until he's comfortable again.

"It's going to be sunny," he says, voice low, letting Daniel's curls tickle his lips and nose. "It's going to be sunset, orange, the trees all golden in the way you like."

Daniel's back shifts under his hand, his fingers twisting in Max's shirt.

"We'll be sitting in chairs, because you have old man knees, and would complain about sitting on the floor."

He twists away from the halfhearted poke in his side, then settles back.

"They will be those garden ones, the ones with the straw?"

"Wicker," Daniel corrects him softly, voice scratchy.

"Yes, wicker." He tugs Daniel even closer, not knowing how it is even possible. "With pillows, so you can curl in them like a little cat."

He smooths his hand down Daniel's back, like he does with Sassy, when she stretches out beside him on the bed, similar to how Daniel is now. Does it again when he feels Daniel's shoulders uncurl slightly.

"We will be drinking your weird beers, the expensive ones that taste worse than all the others."

"Craft beer isn't weird," Daniel argues, just like Max was expecting him to. He sounds like there's something stuck in the back of his throat, and Max kisses his hair again.

"It is weird, Daniel. Beer does not need to be that expensive."

He gives him space to reply once more, but Daniel doesn't.

"We will drink your weird beer, and we will talk about that time we ate pasta in your hotel room."

It wasn't just one time, but Max knows he doesn't need to specify. They're both thinking about the same one, illegal spaghetti ordered from room service, hidden from their trainers, sauce on the corner of Max's mouth, cleaned by Daniel's thumb first, Daniel's mouth later. And even if they aren't thinking about the same, it doesn't matter. Every plate of pasta shared, in every hotel room, would matter just as much, stepping stones in their story, just as important as that first kiss.

"And it will be rainy," Max continues, voice even lower. His t-shirt is damp, stretched by Daniel's tense fingers. Daniel's back is shuddering, even when he holds him closer and closer and closer.

"It will rain, and you will have a blanket, because you always get cold, even more when it is humid."

The thing that was in Daniel's throat is in his too now.

"We will talk about how stupid everyone was. We will say it was all unfair. But we will not be angry anymore, because it will not matter anymore."

Daniel's hair smell like Max's shampoo, even if he usually doesn't use it, because he hates how dry it makes it feel. Max can taste salt on the back of his throat as he shifts his head slightly, trying to at least keep his ears dry, now that his cheeks are a lost cause.

Daniel's breathing is a stuttered rhythm against his ribs.

"We will cook eggs," Max pushes on, pressing every word against Daniel's skin, hoping every one feels like the i love you that it is. "Because we will have chickens on your farm, like a real farm, so we will be good at cooking eggs. And you will drink your wine, and sing your songs."

His voice breaks, sudden betrayal, just as Daniel trembles in a sob, but Max pushes through. They've both always known how to push through.

"And I will ask are you happy and you will say yes," he says, making it sound like a promise, because it is a promise. "And we will not regret any of it."

He knows they won't. Not the angry moments, not the painful moments, not the annoying little moments they will never even remember. They will take all of them and throw them into the jar of their lives, little pebbles, and colorful marbles, and shards of glass smoothed out with time and love and distance, all mixed together.

"We will sit on your chairs, and they will have nothing, and we will have us."

He holds Daniel closecloseclose, because he's never learned how to let go of the things he cares about, has always clung to things with his teeth and desire bared, and he has no intention of starting now. He has no intention of starting ever.

Even if this is not the way he wanted things to happen, he doesn't believe in letting go, especially when it comes to Daniel.

He swallows, clears his throat to try and dislodge the tight knot of feelings there, raises a hand to swipe his thumb along Daniel's wet jaw.

"We will have chickens, and a garage full of dirt bikes, and I will ask Grace to teach me how to make the pasta sauce you spilled all over the carpet when you were five."

Daniel nods against his chest, fingers relaxing. His breathing is still uneven, Max's t-shirt is still damp, but he can feel him going lax against him, relaxing bit by bit.

"We will," Daniel murmurs, voice shaky enough it sounds closer to a question.

"We will," Max tells him, firm. Would be happy to tell him again and again, until Daniel's voice doesn't shake on it anymore. "We will eat so much food, and we will become fat, and we will be happy. We will."

Daniel nods again, then shifts, wiggling in Max's hold until he can properly climb on top of him, pointy elbows planted on the bed, above Max's shoulders, trembling fingers tracing the wet lines on his cheeks, red-rimmed eyes soft.

When Daniel kisses him, they both taste like salt, exhaustion and the future.

[alastwhorez]

idk if ur taking requests but i thought i’d throw a concept ur way !! imagine alastor fucking u in his demon form, or rather him going into his demon form while he’s already fucking u. that thought plagues my mind everyday (luv ur writing btw !)

That Boy Is A Monster

♡ Pairing: DemonForm!Alastor x Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor loses all control

♡ Warnings: 18+, MDNI, p in v, oral, monster fucking, blood, Alastor’s demon form, masturbation, I think that's everything

♡ An: Thank you so much for the request. I had so much fun writing this. I hope you enjoy! Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

You are on your way to Alastor’s radio tower. Your feet stomping with every step, you're furious. Alastor’s has been avoiding you for the past three days and you don't know why, but you're about to find out.

He has acted normal with everyone else but you, maybe a little more snippy than normal but that's about it.

You don't bother knocking on the door, instead just swinging it Open. You were expecting to see him working on his show but instead you are met with the sight of him with his pants down, cock in hand. His jacket is off, the first three buttons of his shirt undone, his bowtie is undone, just hanging around his neck, and his sleeves are rolled up.

He doesn't notice you came in, continues to stroke his cock. You stand there shocked for a moment, and a bit embarrassed for walking in, but the feeling is quickly replaced with that of busy.

It's no secret you harbor a crush on the radio demon. You've been enchanted with him since you came to the hotel.

You continue to watch as he throws his head back, His face flushed. He curses under breath. You watch him struggle to get off.

You watch him for a few more minutes, an ache starting to build between your legs. You rub them together trying to ease it but it isn't working. You take a breath And decide you can help the both of you out.

You walk over to his chair and kneel down, he finally notices you when you touch his thigh, jumping and looking down at you with a glare on his face “what the hell are yo—”

“helping” you say as you replace his fist with your own. He relaxes slightly but is still a little tense, not too sure about what you are doing.

It was no secret Alastor hated touch unless he was the one to initiate it, even then he still wasn't fawned of it, but his cock ached so bad, rubbing it for hours it seems and nothing, the ache just getting worse and worse.

Alastor watches as you take him into your mouth, his clawed hand finding your hand and pulling it into a ponytail. He's close, he can feel it but he sees you rubbing your thighs Together and being the gentleman he is, he can't let you suffer like that. Now can he?

He pulls you up and sits you on his desk in front of him, being careful not to press any of the buttons. His Hand slid up your legs starting at your ankles till they got to your thigh where he spread them apart.

His face is in your hair. He slowly inches his hand up higher, pushing your skirt up in the process, “is this okay?” You nod your head.

Alastor feels his senses leaving his body. He knows he isn't going to be able to control himself soon. All he can think about is cumming, but if you're willing to help him then he should be willing to help you.

He drops to his knees, eyes meeting yours asking a silent question, you nod and he lean in close to your covered sex. He licks up your covered cunt and leaves open mouth kisses. You whine and he has to hold back a chuckle. He's barely touched you and you're already so needy.

He decides to stop teasing you and pulls you panties down, pocketing them, he can use those later when these “urges” arise again.

He starts slow, kitten licks, and kisses. You moan softly, but it isn't enough. He watches you and you bite your lip, face flushes.

He licks up you,flattening his tongue before focusing on your clit. He licks, kisses, and sucks until you're withering above him. You try to find a place to put your hands and he grabs them, placing them in his hair. You pull as moans fall from your lips.

He shoves his tongue in you, thrusting as his thumb takes over the work on your clit. You grab his antlers and are they bigger than normal? You can't think straight anyway so maybe you just don't remember the size of them.

Alastor is basically Making out with your cunt at this point, leaving sloppy kisses everywhere. You feel yourself reaching your peak. You look down and see Alastor’s Eyes already on you and are those radio dials? You definitely don't remember those being there before. Hell, the only time you ever see them is when he is angry. You worry for a second that you did something to anger him, trying to pull away but he grabs your hips and pulls you Flush against his face, growling as he does.

It feels so good you don't even notice his antlers are twice the size now. Or that his hands seem larger than normal, claws sharper. You get lost in the pleasure and start grinding on his face. He groans as you hump him, chasing your own pleasure. He feels his cock jump.

You cum all over his face, screaming his name as you pull on his antlers trying to stabilize yourself. Alastor stands and that's when you finally notice how much taller he is. The demon was always taller than you, by a good two feet almost, but it looks like he's grown another foot or two.

Your panting, trying to catch your breath. Alastor lines himself up at your entrance. Rubbing his cock up and down your cunt trying to lubricate it, you look down and that, that's definitely bigger, is it even going to fit?

You winse slightly at the stretch but the burn feels so good. You throw your head back and Alastor starts at a brutal pace. You feel yourself stretch even more and you look up at Alastor And notice his antlers take up almost the whole room, and he's so tall he is hunched over so he doesn’t bang his head on the ceiling. He has a crazy look in his eyes, his smile is stretched so big it's almost terrifying. Well it would be if his cock wasn't pounding into you.

He slams his hands onto the desk beside you and his claws dig in, puncturing the metal and ripping it apart. Fuck that was hot. You start moving your hips to meet his thrusts.

He bends down and you grab his antlers once again, pulling. His face is in your neck and you feel his teeth graze the skin before he sinks them into you. You moan though you don't know if it's from pain or pleasure. You feel blood run down your neck then his Tongue lapping it up. His clawed hands are on your waist, guiding your thrusts, you can feel his claws pinch the skin. You're sure your top is probably ripped.

You cum all over his cock, squeezing him and trying to milk him.

He growls and has his voice always had This much static to it? Fuck he's giving you a voice kink now.

Alastor shoots ropes and cum into you cunt, you milking him of every drop.

You both lay there, panting. Alastor pulls out and you whine at the loss of being so full. When you open your eyes to look at him again you see him going back to his normal form.

He fixes your shirk and hair and helps you stand on shaky legs. Neither of you speak, having a mutual understanding. No one can find out about this. You leave the radio tower legs still shaking. Alastor throws himself back in his chair, pulls out your panties and inhales your scent.

Two days later the hotel is under attack because Mimzy showed up with loan sharks after her. It is also the day Lucifer decided to come for a visit.

Alastors form turns into his demon one once again. Taking care of the loan sharks. Everyone is talking about how creepy he is and that they wouldn't want to run into him in that form at night, but all you can focus on is the ache building in between your legs and if you can convince him to fuck you in this form again, and maybe this time he can use those tentacles on you.

[gossippool]

so i do think it's very interesting how, at least from what i've observed, people see/depict worst logan as kind of different from the x men logan in terms of their propensity for violence, or rather how this violence is released. i think it has to do with a couple of things:

as many have pointed out, wade is the only one who has ever been able to match him in a fight. so it makes sense that people would headcanon their relationship as involving fights on the regular. but also;

most of what we see from him in the movie is him fighting, and so we assume that he has a tendency towards it, especially since the past he's trying to escape from is exactly that: him being violent towards others, including those who don't deserve it. i think this has definitely subconsciously shaped some people's perception of him in some way.

but i think it's good to remember that what we are shown isn't proportionate to who he is, because the movie necessarily can't develop his character much outside of the plot. i don't think worst logan and x-men logan are different at all in the sense of x-men logan being "gentler", because not only have we just not had the chance to see worst logan act otherwise, but x-men logan also has this same animalistic violence in him. we can see how quickly he unleashes himself in the movies when the situation calls for it, and even when he's doing it to protect, there's still that rage underneath it all.

worst logan is violent towards wade because 1. he's projecting, and 2. wade can take it. but also it's a symptom of something else that he hasn't worked through, possibly decades of trauma he hasn't worked through. i'm working on a fic that explores this rn, but my headcanon is that his post-x-men rampage was a sort of addiction for him because of the release it gave him, which he then replaced with getting shitfaced, and finding someone who could take him in a fight (wade) could be a reversion to the former addiction if he doesn't work on it. (i think that especially with superhero movies, it's so easy to brush off violence as just another normal thing, but realistically, a failure to unpack all that baggage could escalate his problems into something way worse.)

so imo i think worst logan is practically the same, if not very similar, to x-men logan, just that he's a variant that was dealt the worst card, but we interpret his character differently because all we're shown is what he became because of it. we all know logan is gentle with his lovers, and i think that unless wade shows that he enjoys it, logan would not be violent towards him just because wade can take it. just because you can doesn't mean you should, and i think he of all people would understand that

[lexirosewrites]

Due to trauma Steve presented very late. And when he did present,it was in april of '85, as a duel dynamic. Alpha and Omega. It's extremely rare,and messes with his hormone levels in such a way he is constantly going into pre heat/rut, and feels sick nearly all the time. Not only is it debilitating, he's so nervous about anyone finding out, its very taboo rare thing to happen., and he's terrified his parents will find out he's not just an alpha and will kick him out. Only people who (know until he tells Robin on the mall bathroom floor) are his doctors and himself, He no longer sleeps with anyone until he can sort things out. During the summer of 85 his doctor has come up with a plan of action, they believe a bitching will solve his issues,cornering him into being an omega should help fix things a bit. They think the process may need to be stretched out so it'll stick. He'd still have his alpha cock and his hormones should balance out and he'd feel exponentially better, though he'd still have to take medication for the rest of his life to prevent himself from becoming duel again, and possibly help him from being infertile, because that's also up in the air much to Steve's dismay. Trouble is he doesn't know any alpha he could trust to help him, it's such a HUGE daunting favor and he wishes he already had a mate to help him. He would ask Nancy but the history and the fact that she's with Jonathan is definitely not a good idea…and Robin can't help with the sexual aspect of it of course, though being around her makes him feel a bit better,and calms him a bit, but she's not the alpha he needs.

After the events of season three Steve gets worse and Keith, who didn't want to hire Steve to begin with, keeps threatening to fire him, because he keeps needing to take off work just to to rest. So he starts bringing in doctors notes to get him off his back and then rumors finally start flying. His parents even hear about Steve hiding some big illness and are horrified when he tells him the true reason, and want him to become a full alpha instead, which isn't possible for him. An attempt could kill him while becoming a full omega, while still dangerous, is the more sensible decision. They make it clear to him that they will not support him in that. All the drama makes him feel even worse and it goes on for months, he's even confronted with the whole FRIENDS DON'T LIE spiel and tells them "I'll eventually be okay, don't worry." He cant really tell them what needs to be done but that's all he can say.

85 ends and Steve still does not have an alpha that can help him, until he meets and befriends Eddie,during the nightmare that is the events of season four. They become friends and are there for one another during the healing process after the bat attacks and even as they get better from those injuries, Steve just keeps getting sicker,and his body feels alight when Eddie is around. He wants to ask Eddie, but he also doesn't want this new special friendship to implode because it's such a HUGE ask, that's one hell of a favor to ask from a friend (and crush!!!). During a particularly bad round of illness Eddie swings by to check on Steve and Steve finally tells him whats gotten him so sick, And Eddie immediately, without hesitation, volunteers himself. Tells him "I'll do it Steve. You take care of everyone so well, let me take care of you. Let help you."

eddie wants to take care of him 🥺😭💕

[moonstruckme]

7K!!!!!! And a birthday!!!! What a day!!!!!

For the celly can I please request “frozen peas pressed against a fresh bruise” with tasm!peter? Pretty predictable of a pairing but I just love how you write him

What a day indeed!! Thanks for requesting angel

cw: mention of blood, bruises, and general violence (not being inflicted in the scene)

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 685 words

Peter is lucky you don’t faint at the sight of blood. You tell him as much, which makes him chuckle, which makes you both wince as the cut on his lip reopens. 

He’s blooming with bruises. You can tell they’re going to be bad—they already are bad, but you know they’re going to get worse. You’re doing your best to mitigate the damage with what you have on hand. There’s a slice of plastic-wrapped cheese laid across the less severe bruise on his jaw and a bag of frozen peas pressed as delicately as possible to the darker one across his temple. Peter could probably hold either of these himself, but he’s decided to busy his hands with the edges of your pajama shorts and leave the work of nursing to you. 

“How’d you get this one?” you ask, stroking your thumb close to the one on his temple. 

“Same guy.” Peter’s voice is light, though you can tell he’s hurting by the way he’s barely moving his lips. “I think his main plan was to try to knock me out.” 

You feel your face scrunch, sympathy for your boyfriend and disgust for his attacker warring in you. He coils the drawstring of your shorts around his finger and smiles at you with the working side of his mouth. 

“It didn’t work.” 

“Maybe you should’ve stayed down,” you mumble. 

“That wouldn’t have really been consistent with the whole ‘neighborhood protector’ thing…” 

“Who were you protecting this time, though?” You aim for lightness, but the question falls with unintended weight between you. You rub your lips together, looking at the peas instead of him. “It was a carjacking. I mean, it still sucks, but nobody was being physically hurt except you.” 

“Hey.” Peter’s voice is soft, teasing. He strokes a thumb over your thigh. “You should see the other guy.” 

You expel a breath. It aches a little coming out. “I just…it feels like you put yourself in danger tonight for nothing.” 

You’re still not quite looking at him, but you see his eyebrows scrunch in your periphery. The levity saps from his expression. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t in any real danger. I always make it back, don’t I?” 

“Barely,” you murmur, softer than soft. 

“I’ll be good as new in a couple days,” he assures you. “Super strength and super healing and all that, remember?” 

“I know. It’s scary when you come back like this, though.” 

“Hey.” Peter taps your thigh. You look at him, and he rewards you with a little smile. “It’s not like it happens all the time. These guys were waiting for me. They knew I was coming and they got the jump, but that’s not, like, a regular thing.” 

“I know,” you say again. “I just wish you’d pick your battles sometimes. If no one’s getting hurt, and you are getting hurt, maybe it’s not always worth it. You could at least consider leaving things be some of the time.” You smile back at him, and it’s a bit watery. “The cars will be okay.” 

Peter looks back at you for a minute. You look down, embarrassed—you’re not even the one getting hurt, what right do you have to get all emotional about it?—but you can still feel him studying you. After a while, he says, “Okay.” 

You blink. “Okay?” 

He smiles. Not like he’s consoling you this time, but like he can’t help it. “Yeah, baby. I don’t want to scare you for nothing. So I’ll try” —he sighs— “to pick my battles a little bit. Sometimes.” 

You feel teary again. “Thanks,” you say thinly. 

Peter’s brows hook in the middle, his hand moving up to hold your hip as though to steady you. “Sure,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was freaking you out so much.” 

You laugh, shrugging and wiping wetness away from your bottom lashes. He pouts. 

“Kiss?” 

It’s an easy request to oblige. You kiss Peter on his top lip, the good side, but when that’s not enough for him and his bottom lip splits again anyway, he says he doesn’t mind.

[ikilledyvette]

(Realized I was never gonna finish this long ass 9-1-1 fic before the premiere, so today I’m doing the seriously condensed version for Tumblr—which I still have to break into two parts, ffs.)

It’s Thursday afternoon, three days before Father’s Day, and the atmosphere at the 118 is grim. Gerrard is gone, at least, and everyone celebrated with cake—specifically, a Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead! cake, complete with a chocolate house crushing little black boots—but to everyone’s surprise, Buck isn’t exactly welcoming Bobby home with open arms anymore. He hasn’t forgiven Bobby for resigning in the first place. Making matters worse, Margaret and Philip Buckley are flying in for the weekend. Also, Eddie is depressed because Chris hasn’t called since he left for Texas six weeks ago, and Eddie doesn’t expect to hear from him on Sunday, or possibly ever again.

Hen tells Eddie Christopher will forgive him. “He’ll come home. He just needs a minute.” Eddie says that six weeks is a hell of a minute, but Hen persists. “You’re a good father,” she says, ignoring Eddie’s humorless laugh. “You messed up; I’m not saying you didn’t. But that doesn’t negate all the good you’ve done, too. Kids, they want you to hear them. They want you to show up, so when Christopher calls, pick up the phone and listen. You two love each other, Eddie. It’s going to work out.”

But Eddie’s gaze just drifts to the kitchen, where Bobby is quietly looking at the stack of uneaten fire-engine-shaped mini-waffles that Buck refused to eat, even though he’s the one who bought Bobby that ridiculous novelty waffle-maker in the first place

“You ever think maybe love just isn’t enough,” Eddie says, and Hen isn’t sure how to answer that.

*

Meanwhile, Chimney, thankfully, has the day off and is drinking a beer with Tommy. (Hen, left to deal with these weird morose vibes at the 118 by herself, quite rightly considers this a betrayal and has appropriately sworn revenge.) Chimney and Tommy talk a little about their own families: Tommy hasn’t spoken to his dad in years; meanwhile, Chimney finally gave up months ago after actually telling his dad how he really felt about being abandoned. He just needed to hear his father apologize once, just once—but he couldn’t do that, not even that, and Chimney decided enough was enough. 

Tommy, who’s only ever met the Buckley Parents one time (but has quickly clocked to Buck’s wildly shifting moods whenever discussing them), asks Chimney how much of a disaster this weekend is likely to be. Chimney tells Tommy that—apart from big family secrets and the general emotional trauma—every time the Buckleys visit, someone comes close to death: warehouse fire (Buck), lightning strike (Buck), viral encephalitis (Chimney). 

“Maybe don’t go up in a helicopter till they’re gone?” Chimney suggests, and Tommy says, “Jesus,” and gets another beer.

*

Back at the 118, things have gone from bad to worse. A call leads to Buck recklessly risking his own life to save someone. He walks away with only a few bruises, but Bobby yells at him for nearly getting himself killed. Buck snarks that he must still be that young, impulsive hothead after all. Bobby, a bit at a loss, tells Buck that he has come a long way, but he can’t put himself in danger just because he’s angry at Bobby. 

“What is this really about? You can talk to me, kid. I’m here.”

“Right,” Buck says, scornful. “You’re here. For ... how long again? Seven more, I think you said? No—no, you never actually said, did you? That one’s on me. Right, Cap?”

The bell goes off, ending the argument. Bobby tries to talk to Buck again after the shift, but Buck is already out the door. He barely gets any sleep that day before he and Tommy drive over for The Big Family Dinner. Tommy tries to talk Buck into staying home, suggesting they go tomorrow night instead, but Buck insists it will be a Thing if they don’t go.

Dinner goes badly. Margaret and Phillip aren’t intentionally rude or actively malicious, but there’s still a thread of casual biphobia in much of what they say: Evan’s always going through these phases. Well, if it’s not a phase, Evan, you must have known; how could you not? Please don’t misunderstand, Tommy, of course we like YOU. Very much! Yes, Tommy, thank you for your service. We’re just saying, Evan likes to throw us for a loop now and then. Really, Evan, you’ve had so many girlfriends you’re basically straight, aren’t you?

Buck finally loses it shortly after Maddie goes into the other room to check on Jee Yun. Margaret suggests that while she’s happy that Buck and Tommy are happy, of course—happy for now, at least—she’d just hoped Buck would’ve started to settle down by now, get serious about someone, rather than start experimenting. Phillip also jokes that he’d thought Buck had outgrown making bids for attention, and Buck just—snaps. 

“Why did I have to work so hard to get your attention again? Right. Cause it was too hard to look at me. Cause I was the reminder of what you lost, the screwup you got left with. Maybe if Daniel had grown up and turned out bi, you’d—"

—and Margaret slaps Buck across the face. 

It shocks everyone, very much including Margaret, but when Buck finally blinks and glances at his dad, Phillip automatically moves to stand behind his wife, silently taking her side. Buck, a bit dazed, mutters he’s sorry and tells Chimney not to tell Maddie what happened, right before Tommy all but pushes Buck out the door and drives him home.

Buck, still a little shellshocked, mostly can’t believe he said what he said, insists he shouldn’t have gotten that upset, and tries to brush off Tommy’s efforts to comfort him. Tries to get him to leave. Tries to distract him with sex when Tommy refuses to leave. Tommy, not having any of it, sits Buck down and talks a little about his own childhood, how he’d run away from home after his father had found out Tommy was gay, how—broken and bleeding—Tommy had never called, never looked back. Buck protests it’s not the same because Margaret and Philip aren’t abusive, have never hit him before tonight, aren’t really homophobic—at least, not in the same way—and also, Buck deserved that slap. 

“Who throws a dead kid in their parents face?” Buck asks, miserable.

“Someone who lived under the shadow of a brother he never knew about for 30 years?” Tommy asks, then takes Buck’s hand and makes Buck look at him.

“Look, maybe it’s not the same. You’re never going to convince me you deserved it, Evan, not any of it—but what I’m saying is, when people repeatedly hurt you? You don’t have to look back. You don’t have to keep trying. You can, if that’s what you want—but you don’t have to forgive anyone just because they’re family. That’s not what being a family should be. And, for what it’s worth, that includes Bobby, too. Just ... maybe consider what you’re actually angry about—or if it’s even anger you’re really feeling here—before deciding to cut him off for good.” 

Slowly, Buck sinks into Tommy’s side. Tommy wraps an arm around him. Kisses him gently just above birthmark.

(Part II is finished, coming tomorrow or the next day)

[ravencantwrite]

Young Charles Xavier with anxious! Reader

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, allusions to panic attacks, mentions of skin picking and nail-biting, overall tried to make it as fluffy as possible.

Talks to you telepathically when you're too overwhelmed to talk

The sound of people, the lights, the crowd, everything was too overwhelming tonight. But it wasn't even just that, suddenly, every problem you haven't managed to solve by the end of the week has now decided to demand an answer. Were you ever going to finish writing your papers? Are you doing a good enough job at your report? Why are you out, enjoying life when there's so much work to do? Too many questions were swirling around in your head that you couldn't answer. Too much doubt. Too much of everything.

But it wasn't just your thoughts, you were starting to react physically to all the stress and anxiety that you were feeling. It was difficult understanding if you were actually breathing, any effort at thinking was diverted to constantly remind yourself to manually breathe through your nose.

Charles knows that when this happens you're most likely not going to be able to give any coherent answers apart from single worded, 'yes' or 'no' answers. He lets you hold on to his arm, and regardless of how hard you hold on to him he doesn't let it show on his face. Instead, he uses his other hand to place his palm on your face, your hand gripping on to his wrist trying to ground yourself.

You can hear his voice trying to calm you down inside your head. "Listen to my voice love, tell me what's going on". And while your thoughts aren't any more coherent than your words he pieces everything together and somehow understands what you're trying to tell him.

Gets your lip balm and helps you avoid skin-picking and nail-biting

You're used to picking on the skin of your lips, or biting your nails whenever you're too nervous or preoccupied by your thoughts. By the end of it, you'd end up with blood running down your lips, and uneven nails and no matter how much you tried to avoid it you would unconsciously give in to these habits.

The first time Charles notices blood on your lips he's concerned. At first, he attributes it to the weather or maybe even dehydration, but when you open up to him about your skin-picking problem he becomes more observant. He keeps a lip balm with him at all times and offers it to you every time he realizes you're about to pick at your skin and tries to help you replace your urge to pick at something by either distracting you with random questions or getting you scratch cards.

As for your habit of nail biting, he decides to use a fun way for you to avoid it. He paints your nails for you with your favourite shade, taking his time with the paint brush, painting each stroke carefully so as to not paint your skin. And when you ask him if you could paint his nails too, he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face and happily lets you paint his nails.

"Now we've got matching nail colors too"

Helps you practice conversations

Talking to strangers was often uncomfortable. You got it most days but when you're very particularly anxious, or self-conscious where it's getting you to second guess everything and that's when you tend to avoid talking to people at all because of the amount of stress simply having a conversation could give you. But that's gotten you to miss out on things quite often, including even compromising on things you would have liked to do.

Charles is very careful when he approaches you about trying to practice conversations with him. He doesn't wish to make you feel any worse about it than you already do and tries his best to find the best ways to help you.

"Now, if you're anxious to talk to somebody I want you to take a deep breath, take a moment, and prepare a script on what you want to say. Can you try that with me, love?"

He's very encouraging, always giving you pointers on how you could improve. He makes sure that you know how glad he is that you're trying, and how glad he is that you were comfortable enough with him to try this.

[nebbyy]

A list of my most unpopular ASOIAF opinions and theories

Please remember this is all based on the books alone, and there also might be SPOILERS for Fire and Blood and the Game of Thrones book series.

ALSO I might open the requests for Game of Thrones fics and headcanons, and maybe for Baldur's Gate as well once I get back into it.

Okayyy so here we gooo.

1. Maegor's story doesn't add up

Don't get me wrong, he must've obviously been a horrible king and a shitty husband, but reading the chapters that talk about him in Blood and Fire, it all just felt like a list of rumours and versions of all nefarious crimes he would've committed. There are about five versions of whatever he did with each wife of his, each of them more depraved than the one before.

Again, I don't think he was an angel or anything, but my theory is that his history was written by biased sources. His reign was made illicit by Jaehaerys, so it would've been in his best interest to have him remembered as nothing more than a viscious monster.

It's a form of "damnatio memoriae" that we've already seen, in a way, with Mushroom and the Dance of Dragons. When in a conflict, and especially after a victory, each side wants to depict the side they beat as badly as possible Caesar did a similar thing in "De Bello Gallico", the book about his conquest of the modern French and Swiss territories. In this book he excuses his conquest with the supposed preparations for an attack by the Helvetians, a fact that was proven to be misinterpreted as it was a mere pacific migration. And again, he did the same thing when he accused them of cannibalising each other while being under siege, another untrue fact made up to just make them seem worse.

So in a way, Maegor's reputation could've been made worse by following historians to legitimate Jaehaerys' reign over Aerea's claim.

2. Incest has no effects on Valyrians

Okay, this is a bit weirder. My theory is that Valyrians practised incest because it had no effect on their offspring.

Looking at the Targaryen family tree, I noticed that the cases of madness increase the more Targaryens marry with other houses. Baelor the Blessed was the first mad Targaryen, and he had a grandmother of house Harte and a great grandmother who was half Arryn.

Before Baelor, Helaena is questionably considered mad as well, which would prove my theory furthermore had it not been for the amount of trauma she endured in her life so I'm honestly not gonna count her as "mad". Rhaegel Rargaryen was the second confirmed mad Targaryen, with a Martell mother; his daughter Aelora is questionably considered mad too, and her mother is an Arryn.

Aerion Brightflame was another mad Targaryen, with a half Martell father and a Dayne mother. The last two mad Targaryens were Aerys II and Viserys III, but at this point, the bloodline was mixed with others enough to make the Targaryen madness an unpredictable factor.

So I think we could theorise that Valyrians can perform incest so long as it remains within pure Valyrian blood.

3. There is no good or bad in the Dance of Dragons

Rhaenyra had a claim on the throne because of Viserys' will, but Aegon had a claim on the throne because of the laws of Westeros themselves. You can argue that Alicent wasn't the nicest stepmother, yet you can't look me in the face and tell me a woman in the middle ages married to a KING to whom she had given THREE SONS wouldn't complain when the king dismisses all of them and their claims in favor of his firstborn daughter.

Otto may have manipulated Alicent, but that was just how a Lord was supposed to act in that situation: have her marry the best candidate (the king), have her birth at least a son (she did) and make sure those children are first in line for the throne (as it should be, by the laws).

Viserys shouldn't have remarried if he already had his heir, period.

At the same time, Rhaenyra had every reason to fight for her claim and try and go against the actual laws of Westeros, but it was inevitable that many would've seen badly her attempt at claiming what was Aegon's birthright.

Lucerys was an asshole for mutilating Aemond and never showed remorse, quite the opposite. Aemond was an asshole who shouldn't have had all the power he had, plus I hardly believe his and Alys relationship was really consensual so there's that..

In the end, they all had their rights and wrongs, but that doesn't matter at all. The only point about the Dance is the fact that a pointless conflict led to the downfall of one of the strongest families in Westeros history.

4. Rhaegar didn't love Lyanna

I hate the series for making them marry. Like, seriously, have D&D ever read the books? Have they not read what happened between Maegor and the Faith when he took another wife??

Never, not even in the most twisted of universes, would the faith let Rhaegar kidnap and marry a Stark girl while he was still married to Elia. That just wouldn't be plausible.

And I also don't think he'd just fall in love at first sight with a random girl at a tournament. She was a beautiful soul and had many qualities, but she had nothing that could truly make a man throw away his whole life to pursue her.

He needed another child. The dragon has three heads. He had Rhaenys and Aegon, but Visenya was missing (I just made up the name for the third possible child considering he was naming them after the three conquerors lmao). He needed Lyanna to have that third child, and he knew how to get her to get what he wanted.

Perhaps we'll find out this isn't true. Perhaps Rhaegar really was head over heels for Lyanna, but I honestly really really doubt it.

5. There is no certainty on who the Prince that was Promised is

No matter what the show wants us to see, we still don't know who it is. It could be Daenerys, it could be Jon, it could even be Stannis and we're not gonna know it until Martin reveals it.

I honestly think Daenerys is Azor Ahai, but I'm still curious to see why we would need to revive Jon then. And considering Stannis' sword possibly being Azor Ahai's sword, is it a fake one made by Melisandre to get what she wanted from him, or does he actually possess the original sword?

Well, these are the first theories and opinions I could think of right now, I might post more in the future. Again, please don't slander me in the comments, these are just my personal opinions and I respect all others.

[rotten-pomegranate]

could you do with yandere Chrollo and f!reader (rape)?🙏

Yandere Chrollo x virgin reader Noncon

Warnings: Noncon, hickeys, kidnapped reader, yandere

He was so sweet when he first took you, saying how he would never do anything against your will except keep you, how he would never hurt you

Oh how stupid you where to have believed him

Because here you are laying in his bed , wearing Lacy black lingerie he picked out just for you

You start tearing up when he takes of his shirt and he notices right away “oh dear don’t cry, it will only hurt for a second”

Those words it will only hurt for a second, as if he wasn’t about to hurt you in the most intimate way possible just because you couldn’t fight back

He moves to his bangs that already have a tent in Them and you can tell he’s big, it’s not gonna be easy to have him as your first time, but what say do you have? None

When he pulls down his boxers his cock springs out, and you where right it is big, big enough when it stand tall it reaches the base of his abbs

He climes on top of you and looks you in the eyes when he moves your panties aside to slip a finger inside you

It’s uncomfortable to say the least, having something so foreign inside you 

He moves slowly before adding another and then pulling out

He was done waiting even if that definitely wasn’t enough prep for your first time

When he lines up and enters you it feels like fire and you can’t think of any reason women let this happen consensually

It’s the worst pain you’ve even felt and it gets worse when he starts moving

“Ahh, oh dear why would you keep this from me” all you can do is cry, how dare he, how dare he take you away from everything you know and promise you the world only to defile you

He leaned down and starts sucking on your neck, of course on top of ever he had to mark you as well

All you could hope as you stare at the ceiling tiles in the five star hotel is that it’ll be over soon

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - ninety | it’s a coniferous forest there’s so much pining

San watched y/n as she slept on the couch. Yunho had long ago gone to his room to update his friend on what happened and go to sleep, but y/n had fought sleepiness like a child waiting for Santa Claus until she finally nodded off by accident. He wondered if she was just over excited from everything that had happened or if maybe she was too worried from having to be around her stalker for most of the day to be able to sleep. But she was asleep now, features relaxed and beautifully peaceful.

“Can I ask you something?” Wooyoung asked.

San motioned for him to follow him into his room where he sat on the floor next to his bed and invited Wooyoung to join him.

“I don’t want to wake her up. What is it?”

“I’m really glad that Quack messaged you when she did. Yunho and I were running over, but you were much faster than us.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you run from the café?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a good thing you’re so athletic.”

San exhaled a laugh and nodded.

“So was it your fast feet or your love for her that carried you?” Wooyoung said and laughed quietly.

San glared at him, unimpressed.

Wooyoung laughed a bit too loud before quieting himself again.

“Please don’t say things like that in front of her.”

“Why not?”

He stared at him again.

Wooyoung shrugged. “Just tell her you like her.”

San shook his head.

“Why not? If you like her, just tell her you do.”

“What? And take the advice you gave Minsoo?”

“Who told you about that?”

“Seonghwa hyung.”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at San. 

San smiled.

“Well, I guess you could try that way. She might find it funny.”

He exhaled a laugh. “Maybe.”

He folded his arms and leaned back against the bed, thinking. They sat in silence for a few moments while he processed what he was feeling. Wooyoung played with the hem of his sleeve as he waited for San to say something. 

“I thought he was really going to hurt her, Woo.”

Wooyoung looked over at him.

“All I could imagine was… him dragging her off somewhere and…”

“Kidnapping her?”

“Yeah.” San put his face in his hands and inhaled, trying to steady his nerves. 

Wooyoung inhaled and nodded. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

When he felt more composed he pulled his hands away. “I know she said he’s already hurt her, and he has, but all I could think of as I ran towards them and he wouldn’t let go of her…”

“Was all the worst possible shit that could happen?”

San nodded.

“Yeah, I understand. But… what does that have to do with asking her out?”

He sighed. “I don’t know… I just needed to tell someone.”

“What about telling her?”

“I almost did on the way over here, but you heard her.”

“She’s surprisingly hard-headed when she puts her mind to something.”

He nodded again.

“She’s got that only child attitude… She understood how dangerous it was, though.”

San turned to him.

“I know that her brushing it off when you asked her why she didn’t tell you made it seem like she didn’t, but she really did.”

He turned away.

“San-a--”

“What would you or Yunho have done if I didn’t show up? She could have been kidnapped.”

“Try to get her away from him. I don’t know if we could have fought him like you did, but we would have stopped him from taking her anywhere. We were in a public place and Yunho is at least as tall as Byungchul is.”

San looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

“So just tell her.”

“That I like her?”

“Yeah.”

He turned to Wooyoung for a moment before looking away again. “I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“...I don’t know.”

Wooyoung watched him quietly.

“There’ll be the court case. And… I don’t know. I don’t even know if she likes me as more than a friend.”

“You can ask.”

San shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe… maybe it’s not good to pine after people for months.”

“Or years, even.”

San turned to him.

“Mountain of Namhae.”

He sighed heavily. “What if… what if I’m no better than Byungchul?”

“We both know you’re not--”

“I’ve also been following her for forever. Probably longer than him. But I’m worse, I had the opportunity to tell her and I didn’t. I’m like a stalker.”

“Okay, it’s not like you found out who she was on purpose, San. You met her in real life by accident.”

“I don’t know.”

“San. She can’t be mad at you when she’s the one who moved here, came into the café, and then applied to work there. You were there first.”

“But I shouldn’t have kept it from her.”

“Maybe.” Wooyoung sighed. “Listen, I can’t make you do anything, but I think you should tell her.”

San nodded but didn't say anything.

“San-a, it’s just…” 

Wooyoung wanted to tell San that he knew for a fact that y/n liked him, but as he opened his mouth to say it he had a sudden flash of realization: telling him would mean selling out Yeosang, and that would mean y/n couldn’t trust Yeosang with a secret. And, if Wooyoung told San what he knew, that would mean that San couldn’t trust him with a secret. And then no one would trust him ever again. He didn’t want to screw over his own friendship, definitely, and he knew Yeosang would be pissed at him if he destroyed his oldest friendship. All he could imagine was chubby-cheeked, child Yeosang, crying because he missed his best friend from before he moved… and then maybe adult Yeosang punching him in the face for the first and last time and never speaking to him again.

He sighed.

“What?” San asked.

He shook his head. “This whole situation.” He rubbed his eyes. “I really don’t think she’ll think you’re like Byungchul if you tell her you’ve been following her; it’s not like she’s an unknown streamer, her best friend is in JUPiTER, for fuck’s sake. There are tons of people who watch her streams.”

San shook his head.

“What ‘no’?”

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what else is it?”

San sighed.

   previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: Oh San and his many secrets of varying sizes. What do you think the other one is?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz​​ • @conwunder​ • @tinyelfperson​ • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ • @jaytheatiny​ •

[burning-academia-if]

hello if you’re still taking prompts could u by chance do tears + ??? :p

??? + Tears!

‘What happened?’ Their voice presses into your head, already aching from an incoming headache brought on from your tears. You weren’t sure how to answer them, when there were so many ways you could. Home, school, death, them.

            Your words are acid, “I thought I told you to stay out of my head.”

            Even with the flood of their feelings, seeping out like blood from a wound, you try to shut them out. You never wanted this, and you had yet to think of a situation worse than one where you were tied to a formless thing who felt and saw everything you could.

            You’re so tired. The tears burn in your eyes again and you burrow tighter into yourself, “Just leave me alone. I’m so tired.”

            They don’t, but they don’t speak again either. They settle, and you feel the pinpricks in your fingers. You loosen your grip, the pull of your nails away from skin a peel of pain. You hadn’t realized how tightly you’d been holding yourself. Little crescents line up your arms. The pinpricks stop. They settle again.

            The tears keep leaking out, and with how long you’ve cried you wonder if it’s possible to go on forever. Maybe the body won’t run out of tears, and you’ll be stuck in this state until the end of time. If only you could burn this version of yourself and start again. In a different body, in a different home, you’d be better. You wouldn’t waste a second chance you would never get.

            The Voice presses into you again. You look up involuntarily and scowl as you find yourself looking towards the half-finished water bottle on the bedside desk, “I’m not a child you need to take care of.”

            ‘It’ll help the headache.’ Their voice is soft, withdrawn. ‘Take care of yourself. I’ll leave, then.’

            You grit your teeth and turn away. You won’t listen to anything they tell you to do. It’s not fair, that of all the people in your life (of the reminder there are so painfully few people in your life), the one who cares the most is the one you’re cursed with. They only care because they need a vessel. They only care so they can use you. It isn’t really them taking care of you as a person, it’s them taking care of you like a puppet.

            You hate this. Going around in circles, thinking the same thing over and over again.

            ‘Please, little moon.’ You wince at the nickname, the endearment. It comes with more emotions, each one going against the stubborn beliefs you’ve held on to. That their care for you is real. It eats away at your resistance. This time, when they pull you towards the water, you don’t fight. You down it all in a second, and when you do it hits that you’re hungry and gross and need a shower and a meal.

            What are you even doing?

            “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

            ‘I know.’

            “I can’t even take care of myself.”

            ‘I know.’

            “I hate that the only one who ever helps me is you.”

            ‘…I know.’

            They accept everything, and you stubbornly wipe away the tears instead of having a full breakdown. You get up for food, they stay with you. Although you don’t talk to them, you don’t bother to chase them away. You’re so tired, and warmth is warmth even if it’s as artificial as a lighter.

[funkyplantguy]

cumbo. ough. they make me violent. idiots. I think one of them could be flirting in the most obnoxious entirely obvious way and the other would be sooo oblivious. Either of them could fill that role. Maybe they’re both doing it. They’re stupid. witness geminitay is in fucking shambles she hates them (she knows because grian was witnessing it first and he couldn’t do it alone he had to drag someone else into it) scar (violently aromantic but doesn’t know) thinks both cub and mumbo are being normal and he doesn’t understand why gem and grian are so dramatic. they r literally just awkward grian… you literally told me last week you wanted to elope that’s just what friends do. gem proceeds to beat grian to death with a shovel for not inviting her to the wedding. this is not a 200 word prompt sorry I’m a yapper. only important bit is the cumbo the rest is implied.

YES. yes. you get it. you Get It. they're both so fucking weird and Not Normal About Anything in the best possible way. i feel like they make each other SO much worse. you think you've seen cubfan135 be Weird? watch as i introduce the world's most wet cat of a man to the scene. it's autism x autism but like, slightly different flavors so it could either go so horribly wrong or they could end up making out sloppy style and i have personally decided that it's the latter. but yes i too love the highkey flirter x oblivious dumbass trope. big fan of the idea of cub trying to hit on mumbo SOOOOOO hard (in his own weird-ass way) and mumbo being truly so fucking unaware. like, painful levels of unawareness. everyone around him is .2 seconds away from strangling him at any given moment. gem and grian have already planted 37 tnt minecarts underneath his base for when they inevitably can't take it anymore and need to blow something up but luckily cub gives up and just straight up asks him if he wants to make out before they can pull the trigger anyway. please come yap in my asks (or dms) anytime you'd like. i too am a yapper and will talk your ear off about cumbo (or anything, honestly) for 7-9 business years

[raceweek]

pit lane start 😃 i’m fine

[puppyeared]

Why are ppl scared to call it what it is and say we’re still going thru covid on top of seasonal illness. Like. That’s pretty important right. I was watching the news and they were like oh yeah we have an unprecedented number of flu cases “as well as other sicknesses” without actually saying Covid. No announcement abt vaccinations or masking or anything. Also if I hear someone joking abt “war flashbacks” for mentioning covid I fucking hate u

[yuridovewing]

i understand the frustration with “i made this gay pairing cis x trans so they can still have biological babies” with no thought to other methods and how ppl assume thats the case when it comes to mothpool aus where mothwing is also the mother of the three, but also…. idk i kinda dont give a shit if someone wants to do that and i dont really think its inherently transphobic as long as its handled with care and respect.

what really concerns me about this debate is how some people are adamant that you cannot portray trans people having biological children in media or youre being disrespectful. and im gonna say as a nonbinary person who doesnt want children for themself- thats kinda fucking weird? like i understand that for some people, theyre trans themselves and theyre speaking from a place of dysphoria, and i absolutely get that, which is why i think the topic should be handled with nuance and diversity in trans characters, but like…. guys. pregnant trans men exist irl. trans women get people pregnant irl. trans ppl’s ability and right to parent and have biological children are being debated irl. we get denied the opportunity to adopt as well.

in a climate like this, are we SURE we want the stance on rewrites and headcanons in the silly cat books to be “if you portray trans characters having children, especially with a gay couple, youre a transphobic freak no matter what!” does it really matter? especially if its being done by a trans person handling the topic with nuance who has a lot of trans characters with varying perspectives?

obviously yes, remember that thats not the only way certain gay couples can have kids, remember that not every trans person is fully comfortable with it and keep that in mind, remember that surrogacy and adoption are also perfectly valid ways to give fan babies- but remember that there are OPTIONS. not that you need to condemn the idea of transgender parents in the first place unless they fit the very specific criteria of “proper transgender representation” and anything that dares deviate from that is proof the op is a transphobic monster (bonus points if theyre a trans creator bc i mostly see trans people getting shit for this and it kinda pisses me off. although idm if cis people do it either as long as theyre handling it with respect)

[icewindandboringhorror]

There's always a slight yearning in the back of my mind wishing I had been born in the right place, time, family situation, income level, etc. to have just lived in one single house for my entire life. Imagine being born in a place that still suits you, even through all of your personal evolutions and etc. The idea of deep familiarity with an area because you've lived and explored it for 40+ years, being encased in a web of memories and connections. Being able to clean out your old childhood bedroom and find personal artifacts, to dig in the yard and remember. I know those lives can still be plenty imperfect, but there's just something so seemingly solid and stable and Grounding about it that I sometimes wish I could have.. (At least from my outside perspective as someone who's moved around a bit geographically and even within the same area, never lives in the same house/ apartment /etc. for more than a few years usually.) Like... having a place that is printed upon, fully your own, rather than chronically a visitor, every thought of a space always tempered with the notion that one day soon you'll have to pack it all up again, etc. There's something peaceful about the permanence.