#no ifs ands ors or buts

[thepeacefulgarden]

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Being Sick but Dean Winchester’s your BF Headcanons ✨

✨ Dean Winchester x Reader ✨

Minors! Go away! Don’t interact! I don’t have a witty joke but I still don’t want you here! ¡Adios!

A/N: okay now that they’re gone… I’m sick! Some sort of nasty cold shit. Also I have the fucking la la land piano riff stuck in my head. So, more headcanons!!! (As opposed to a “proper” fic. For Dean ofc. It’s okay, it’ll come eventually)

Icons by me, all notes-especially commentary- are extremely appreciated!!

Content Warnings: if you’ve read the others it’s along the same vein, cute but still spicy enough to warrant that 18+ rating. Reader’s GN but AFAB.

Enjoy!

( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

-okay so first of all, being sick sucks. Whether it’s a runny nose, a headache, throat pain (get your mind out of the gutter), stomach aches, whatever- it fucking sucks.

-but it sucks a little less when you have Dean Winchester taking care of you

-this man knows how to take care of any common virus or cold. Years of taking care of his little brother meant that he could never be sick and that if he was it had to go fast, because he believed he always needed to be able to take care of Sammy first and foremost.

-once he sees you sniffling he’ll bench you from whatever job you guys are working. Immediately. No ifs, ors, ands, buts or coconuts about it.

-once the job is over he’ll come home. If you’re up and moving he’ll sling you over his shoulder or pick you up bridal style, and throw you (in a loving way) down on the couch or bed, depending on where you want to lay.

-he’ll snuggle you a little, and then take a quick shower so as not to get whatever it is you have. He’ll give you whatever blankets and drinks you want, and then head off to the kitchen

-his go-to is to make a vat of chicken noodle soup, extra lemony for vitamin c. He’ll usually either add some chilis to the soup or put some in a salad for you to help clean your system out. And it will always be better than fine dining.

-of course he cooks shirtless, and he’ll come back into the room with a big bowl of soup and your salad ready, cookies still in the oven. He’ll be wearing sweatpants and a ‘kiss the cook’ apron with nothing under it. And if you weren’t sick, you’d definitely do what the apron asked.

-he’ll help you sit up so you can eat it, putting a pillow on your lap so that the bowl doesn’t burn you and wiping your hair out of your face. If your hot he brings a bandana that he dunked in ice water and ties it around your head, if your cold he brings more blankets

-he hates that he can’t touch you or hug you when your miserable like this, but he does his best.

-while you’re eating he’ll talk about the hunt, keeping it as light and funny as possible- probably whatever he and Sam bickered about, the sights he saw, the food, etc

-and he’ll put on whatever you’d like him to. Preferably Gilmore Girls, but he ain’t gonna influence you

-when you’re done he’ll take the empty bowls to the kitchen, leaving them in the sink for Sammy to do them when he gets back to the bunker.

-he’ll grab the cookies, and bring a little plate of them over, and then sit on the sofa in the Dean cave so that your calves are draped over his thighs. If you’re in bed he’ll just lay on the opposite side, occasionally stroking your back comfortingly

-he checks your temperature from time to time, and always adapts according to your sickness. If it’s stomach bug he’s got a trash can beside the bed/couch and is ready to hold your hair. If it’s strep throat he’s gone honey. If it’s literally anything he’s probably got some kind of temporary remedy

-now (you know what time it is 🌶️)

-if you get a little hot n bothered while your sick

-and no I don’t mean hot from the fever

-but like the other kind

-and he can tell

-well, there’s a home remedy for that too 😏

-and you’ll warn him against it, not wanting to get him sick, but he’ll shush you, kissing your belly and pulling your sleep shorts and underwear down in one go

-he’ll kiss all up your legs, making you wish so, so much that you could make out with him

-but he won’t tease. Not when his sweetheart isn’t feeling well.

-so he’ll get as close to your dripping heat as he can, not making you move at all, because he knows you’re comfy on your little bed of pillows and his blankets

-and then he’ll nudge his nose against your clit, the only teasing he’ll do before diving in

-he’s gentle though. Not dissimilar to how he is in the mornings (Shameless plug, sorry not sorry haha)

-he’ll go nice and slow, adding his fingers as he goes, one at a time

-he uses one to gather your wetness and spread it over your poor bud

-and then adds another to scissor into your heat, massaging your spongey walls

-and by the third finger slowly yet deliberately filling you up, along with his mouth on your clit, he’ll have you coming, feeling so much better in one regard

-he’ll lap it all up, careful not to overstimulate you before pressing a sweet kiss to your belly, just as he did before he went down

-he’ll then get up and draw you a bath, helping you pee and then get into the tub

-he’ll dry your hair and then help you into a fresher set of pjs, and lay with you until you fall asleep, then turn off the tv and any lights before getting back in bed.

-and even though he has to sleep a little away from you he can’t help but hold you hand while you sleep, even if it means risking getting sick too

-and if you wake up in the middle of the night, he will too, ready to do whatever you need him to

-he loves you, and it’s he loves knowing that you love him too and would also take care of him if he were in your shoes

-so yeah

-sweet cutie pie caretaker ass with the greener-than-pines eyes gah

-I rest my case

If you have any ideas for headcanons and/or fics my ask box is always open!!

Xx!

[chimerahyperfix]

You are a scientist. You like testing theories, making hypothesis. Working with dangerous materials that get you scolded. You are a scientist, and you are also a writer! You’ve swung at a few things before: sappy poems, work papers, crab, you’ve even attempted a horror short at Mirabelle’s inquiry. You’re favorite thing to write, though, are just basic letters.

You like to write letters. It's easier, to you, to write your thoughts on a piece of paper and hide it somewhere the recipient can find than to tell them what you think face-first. You’ve done it for years, long before you even came to the House to learn about the Change religion. A childhood habit that’s rolled over through your life like a wave on the sea.

So, of course, when time begins to loop, you write. Many, many letters. They all get lost to time when it twists back, and now, many loops in, that leaves a hole in your heart and a spot in your brain you can’t itch, for the words of each letter are mostly forgotten before you fight the King. It’s… fine, you guess? You can word things as many ways as you need to. Anything described can be described some more, after all.

For the first handful of loops, you wrote the same letters. Rather sappy, lovey things, your specialty. The furthest depths of your heart smeared onto a page for eternity, for you love and love and love, and you want those around you to know it.

Though as time trudges on, the same twenty four hours over and over in a nice single circuit built for it to run through, built by wishes and stars and twisted leaf-baring branches, so do your thoughts; therefore your letters move so, too, to adapt. More theoretical things. Questions. Ifs, ands ors buts and whys. Sadder ones after the bad loops, wailing and endlessly upset and mourning those who froze and those who were killed for standing in the King's way.

They get angrier as time goes on. More enraged. Wrath melts into the corners, edges fold and tear and warp under the weight. You stop delivering them, because you're here in this time loop hell to protect the ones you love, and you'd just make it worse if you gave them a letter like that.

You write a scathing letter, once. You write it after an absolutely abysmal loop, ending with blood and tears and probably the loudest you've ever screamed. It flows onto the page easily, and you leave it out on your desk, because you were hungry and hadn't eaten that loop with how beside yourself stressed you were.

Mirabelle finds it. Asks you, quite worried, if you're okay. You must've said something, and it had to be bad, because she flinched away from you like you'd tried to light her ablaze.

You panicked. Time looped.

Never again.

You hide them, after that. Shoved in your pillowcases or in piles of books, stacks of other papers. In the barrels. When you write only one or two you shove them in a bottle and push them to the back of your potions.

You're a shedding snake, a leopard changing its spots. Time is your prisoner and you are it's, and that melts into you as a human being until you are flesh and blood and twenty four hours that shouldn't continue.

Words spill from you, your mind, onto the page. You don't read them anymore. Just write and write and write, and tuck them away and pray no one finds them. You long for the days you could sit and write sappy love letters-- and sometimes, you still do them, but they're tinged with something, regret or rage or the absolute despair you feel, they're wrong, so they're tucked away as well. Letters just wrong, noticeably so. You’d be asked what’s wrong. Cornered. You can hear it now, “What’s wrong? What does this mean?” And all you can think of is the horrors you’ve seen.

One of these loops, whenever you get out, you expect to have a pile of ramblings with time-burnt letters and tear-stained edges. Whenever you get out, if there are any, you'll burn them. As a rite of passage, or something. A Change. Because time changed you, and the less people have to know about it the better. You can't get rid of your rotten voice or the tiredness in your bones or the way your brain has twisted to think, but you CAN get rid of letters.

You like to write. The horrors you write, of twisted time and dying and what being frozen in time is like— it can go. No one needs to know. No one WILL know. It’ll all fall on you, like every other crabbing thing in the time loops. And that’s okay, it’s enough.

[meepmemez]

In light of the latest CookieRun Ovenbreak update:

No ifs, ands, ors, buts

[ednygmaaskme]

Honestly, I don't even think it'll take a while for Waller to give up at least. Once she notices he's got though, she will detonate. No ifs ands ors or buts about it. The bomb will explode, and she won't pay Digger any mind until he arrested again.

If I could I’d ask her very nicely to take Digger out for a few days, but she’d never let it. I’m doing what I can here.

Perhaps I can diffuse it myself but as I said I’d need the blueprint of it, then we could take it out so he’d be done with.

[it-is-i-zim]

1, 6, 12, 19, 21

IS THIS TOO MUCH QUESTIONS?? IDK BUT THESE ONES WERE INTERESTING TO ME

This is absolutely not too many I'm dying to answer all of these from paradoxbeta's ask thing. I'm pretty much only doing this for Captain Boomerang.

1). If your character made a wifi hotspot, what would they name it?

It'll either be 69boobs420 and the password is literally the exact same thing or it'll be Covid Vaccine Chip Serial Number 42069 Activated there is no in-between.

6). Your character is tasked with consuming half a bottle of toothpaste for 50$. Will they do it?

50/50 honestly. If the man's short on cash and he really wants a beer, he might do it. You might be able to convince him if he's drunk enough though. On the other hand, I feel like this man hasn't touched a toothbrush or toothpaste in his life, and I don't think he wants to start now.

12). Your character works one (1) day of retail. The customers are extra bad on that day. How does it go?

This man is going to try to fight the first customer he even perceives as vaguely rude. We're they actually being rude? Probably not. But he's going to fight someone regardless.

19). Your character gets insulted by someone, and nobody in the group they’re with at that time stands up for them. What do they do?

If it's someone he doesn't know insulting him, he will try to fight them. No ifs ands ors or buts. If it's someone he does know, like Harley, he might sulk for a bit. If it's Deadshot, he'll probably try to fight him but that's not going well. Honestly, he's used to being insulted but that doesn't mean he won't be a little upset about it.

21). Is there a genre of music that reminds you of your character?

Classic Rock. And that's only because of the one reference to AC/DC he made in the 2016 comic.

[korechthonia]

Dead Dove has two aspects to it:

it's grim, unpleasant, gross, or fucked up, and liable to induce reactions accordingly

it TOLD YOU it was grim, unpleasant, gross, or fucked up

Like, sometimes food comes with those allergens like "may contain: milk, wheat, soy, peanuts" and they mean potential risk of cross-contamination, and depending how allergic you are you might eat it anyway.

But Dead Dove: Do Not Eat is "contains: peanuts", no ifs/ands/ors/buts, there are peanuts.

But if you just say "contains: allergens", what does that mean for me if I'm allergic to kiwi?

the conflation of "dead dove" into a genre of fic when it's intended to mean "there are warnings here, take them seriously because you get exactly what's on the tin" is probably one of the worst things to happrn to fandom because you get people who tag "dead dove" and no other type of warning. like. cool. this is worthless

and you get people saying "anyone who writes dead dove is morally awful" or whatever. which is like. hello. this is a label you slap on the front of something to say what it is not a type of story

[babyawacs]

#hmmm  ‎.@law @law @harvard_law @sun @snowden @haaretzcom .@sun @france24 @bbcworld @ap @reut ers @deutschland ‎ doyou know why the woodpens ondoor are broken? ibarricaded 2013 and my brother broke them frustrated as batshit nuts  was it a double iwish hope he is alive and well repair repair repair repair no ifs ors ands or buts if induress o rperil iwish hope he is alive andwell but itis germany there theyarethe window and porchdoor dispersed  broken wood pens almost tenyears and museumparts of clothes of unneeded space good enough thatway  where is chamber access /////

#hmmm  ‎.@law @law @harvard_law @sun @snowden @haaretzcom .@sun @france24 @bbcworld @ap @reut ers @deutschland ‎ doyou know why the woodpens ondoor are broken? ibarricaded 2013 and my brother broke them frustrated as batshit nuts  was it a double iwish hope he is alive and well repair repair repair repair no ifs ors ands or buts if induress o rperil iwish hope he is alive andwell but itis germany there theyarethe window and porchdoor dispersed  broken wood pens almost tenyears and museumparts of clothes of unneeded space good enough thatway  where is chamber access /////

#hmmm ‎.@law @law @harvard_law @sun @snowden @haaretzcom .@sun @france24 @bbcworld @ap @reuters @deutschland ‎ doyou know why the woodpens ondoor are broken? ibarricaded 2013 and my brother broke them frustrated as batshit nuts was it a double iwish hope he is alive and well repair repair repair repair no ifs ors ands or buts if induress orperil iwish hope he is alive andwell but itis…

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Ryan Erzahler (2/6)

Word count ; 4.2k

*Edited:3

Ryan and I watched from the sidelines as everyone else conversed. Nick and Jacob were fighting over 'Peanut Butter Butterpops', a brand that rang a bell. Emma had brought a gun back with her for bear-protection, so the pair decided on a good ol’ shoot-out to decide the owners. I was still groggy, so I leaned against Ryan’s shoulder again. He didn’t have any complaints, since he was scrolling on his phone aimlessly.

Generic pop music began emitting from Dylan’s phone. Nick and Abby finished setting up the campfire. And, lo and behold, the other three returned. Except Kaitlyn won the bag somehow. Go her. Both boys were incredibly dejected.

The sun had set, and the full moon was high in the sky, illuminating us more than the fire itself. I finally at up properly when Dylan suddenly clapped his hands together. Everyone had beers except me, so I just occasionally stole Ryan’s. All of the conversations dispersed and we focused on the man.

“Okay! New idea. Party game!” Some groans echoed, nobody seconding the idea at first. “Come on, people, we might never see each other again after tonight! Let’s make some memories!”

“Well, what do you have in mind?” Kaitlyn inquired.

“How about the ultimate game of secrets and lies,” Dylan pitched. “Truth or Dare, but Dylan style. Okay, so house rules are, someone asks you a truth or dare. Then you choose, and then you pick the next person. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts.”

“So, like, normal truth or dare?” I quipped, causing some of my friends to snicker.

Dylan’s face flushed. “Uh, yes.”

“So,” I could tell from Kaitlyn’s expression she had something devious up her sleeve, "we can, like, make people kiss.”

“If they choose dare, yeah. If everyone’s down for that, obviously.”

“Cool beans!”

“I mean, keep it in your pants until it’s your turn, but…”

“So, who’s going first?”

Dylan glanced around the fire place. “Hm. How about you, Kaitlyn, since you’re so eager to make everyone smooch?”

Kaitlyn shrugged. “Sure, I’m down. Truth.”

“Bo-o-oring,” Jacob complained, but Dylan hushed him. 

“It doesn’t have to be.” Dylan scanned her face, and the woman waited patiently with a coy smirk. “…Alright. Kaitlyn. Which of the councilors do you want to have sex with?”

The woman’s smile dropped, and everyone around the fire place cackled. Kaitlyn huffed. “You know that’ an unfair question, right? Everyone’s all coupled up.”

“Actually,” Dylan retorted, "none of us are. That includes you, Jake. Sorry to break it to you, bud.”

Kaitlyn sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Geez… So, I’ll give you all my reasoning behind the choice. Nick and Abby might as well be married by now. Jake’s too obsessed with Emma and Emma’s too obsessed with herself. Ryan and Y/n obviously have a thing going. Maybe friends with benefits, I don’t know. So that leaves you, Dylan. I’d have to choose you.”

Ryan was tense, like always. I nudged him playfully. I was the only one, other than Dylan, who was satisfied with the answer. Actually, Dylan wasn’t even satisfied.

“It’s not about what the right answer is. It’s about what your answer is. Come on, give us something juicier than that.”

“Yeah, Kaitlyn. You don’t have to be shy. The ladies love me,” Jacob jokingly bragged.

Kaitlyn shook her head. “Fine. You want a real answer? Y/n, probably. Ryan’s the lovesick puppy out of the two. And, uh, you’re super nice.”

“I’m not a lovesick puppy —"

“I’m flattered, Kaitlyn!” I grinned, cupping my cheeks. “I never knew you swung that way.”

Kaitlyn scoffed. “Okay, okay, moving on. Ryan. Truth or dare.”

Ryan seemed a bit peeved at the ‘insults’ thrown his way, and he shrugged. I placed my hands on the log and watched him expectantly. He sent a glance my way, having made his decision. “Uh, dare. Let me have it.”

Kaitlyn clasped her hands together in excitement. I noticed that everyone else, minus Nick and and Abby, had mischievous expressions. “Per-r-rfect. Just what I was hoping for. Ryan, I dare you to choose who to kiss out of Y/n and…” Her eyes flitted around the circle. She knew damn well it didn’t matter who else chose. “Emma.”

Ryan paused momentarily, and his complexion darkened. He still appeared as stoic, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he harbored a secret crush for Emma from the way he seized up. I stared at him expectantly. 

“Um, uh…”

“Tick tock, Ryan. We don’t have all day,” Jacob said in a sing-song tone.

Ryan sighed. “Yeah, uh, Y/n. If that’s okay.”

I was still turned to him, but I’m pretty sure my brain short-circuited. Ryan turned to me, intensity swirling inches dark orbs. Everyone was staring intently and my heart was thumping loudly in my chest. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His hand came up to my cheek, stroking gently. I craned my neck up toward him, gulping just as much.

His gaze flitted to my lips one last time before he close to distance. I could tell how nervous he was as his lips pressed against mine. Our noses brushed against one another, and I expected it to be a short and simple one, but he didn’t pull away.

I was only vaguely aware of our surroundings. Dylan and Kaitlyn were having a field day, their cheers overpowering the music. I was about to pull away, but the moment our lips parted, he came back for more. Instinctually, I reciprocated, still shocked by his decision. I was in a total daze when I realized Ryan pulled away, the warmth of his hands and lips leaving me.

My mouth went dry and I stared at him, completely abashed. I was sure my entire face was darkened with a blush, and Ryan didn’t seem as embarrassed or uncomfortable as I thought he’d be. The intensity in his eyes… maybe I was overthinking and assuming, but it was almost like he wanted to kiss me, and not just because of a dare.

“Damn, Ryan, that was hot!” Jacob hollered. “So, who next?”

Ryan gulped, and I scooted away, but only an inch. His eyes flitted back to me, and there was something accusatory behind it. I noticed his hand was also residing on the log. “Um, Abby. Truth or Dare.”

Abby, jumping, became incredibly nervous. Her answer was almost instant. “Truth.”

Ryan hummed and nodded. “Well… since there’s clearly a theme… uh, have you, like, had sex?”

Abby seized up, flushing. Kaitlyn was quick to hop to her defense about how intrusive it was, but Dylan and Jacob both agreed it was a fine question to ask. However, Ryan quickly reworded the question to ‘had sex at this camp.’ Abby quickly declined that, and I noticed that Abby sent glances to check if Nick approved that. It wouldn’t have mattered if she was a virgin or not, in my opinion.

“Um… ah…”

A minute later, Abby still hadn’t chosen someone. “Oh my god, just pick someone!” Jacob exclaimed irritably.

“Okay, okay! Um… I don’t know,” she conceded, clearly too anxious from the former question.

“Ugh. Too late. Ding ding ding!” Emma interrupted. “My turn! Y/n. Truth or Dare?”

I was caught off guard, officially zoning back into the conversation. I was still so caught off guard from the kiss I shared with Ryan, since I’d never even considered him as more than a friend. He was the same, though, right? If he had a crush on me, it would be obvious. Right?

“U - uh, dare,” I stuttered.

Emma giggled knowingly. “Great! See, Abby? The game isn’t too hard. Y/n, I dare you to kiss either Ryan… or Dylan.”

I was terrified she’d stop at Ryan. Ryan was watching me expectantly, and I sent him a smile. Jacob made a sarcastic comment about how great Emma was at playing matchmaker, but I brushed it off. I gulped again, staring at Ryan. However, all my anxiety washed away as my gaze landed on Dylan. He was grinning like the genius himbo he was.

“Uh, Dylan.” 

Ryan’s mouth twitched, but I couldn’t tell if it was a positive or negative reaction. I rose to my feet, and I heard Kaitlyn gasp quietly. I rose to my feet and walked over to the boy. He seemed to not care in the slightest as I leaned down, only momentarily pressing my lips to his.

I separated and went back to my seat. I distanced myself from Ryan, too worried to meet his gaze. Should I have just chosen him? But I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. He’d just chosen to kiss me out of convenience. I was probably mentally blowing this out of proportion way too much.

“I did not see that coming, honestly,” Dylan commented.

Silence fell over the camp counsilors, and I was about to choose, but I realized they were all looking at Ryan intensely. I glanced at him, realizing he had a firm frown planted on his face and his brow were furrowed. My heart was beating disproportionately, and instead of calling attention to the sudden awkwardness, I continued.

“Emma, you haven’t yet. Truth or Dare?”

Emma let out a surprised ‘oh!’, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Well, I don’t see why not dare.”

Jacob was staring at me intently, and I picked up what he was putting down with ease. “Well, I dare you to kiss either Jacob or…” My eyes glazed over the group. “Nick, I guess?”

Nick paled. “Uh-h-h, I don’t know if that’s a good idea —"

Jacob laughed haughtily. “Uh, sorry Nick, this is not even a dare. Obviously, I got this —"

Emma grinned coyly. “I choose Nick.”

Silence fell over the campers. I could tell Abby was fuming. Or about to cry. And Jacob was the same. The atmosphere completely changed, and everyone, minus Dylan and Kaitlyn, were unhappy. Emma sauntered over the Australian man, pulling him up by the collar and kissing him.

We all expected it to be short. However, Emma turned it into a full-blown make-out. Jacob called out for them to stop. However, he suddenly burst.

“Guys. Guys!”

Emma finally pulled away, and Nick didn’t seem pleased. She even planted one extra on him, and that was enough to unleash the dam. Nick couldn’t even meet Abby’s eyes. Emma, as she plopped down on the log, made a snide comment to Abby. Jacob was now pacing around hopelessly.

Abby rose to her feet and stalked off. Emma was somehow surprised. “You like kissing my girlfriend, asshole —?”

“It was just a game —“

“The fuck it was. The fuck it was, man!” Jacob raged, but he turned away. He also left. My jaw dropped, and I reached beside me for the sake of receiving Ryan’s comfort, but he violently tore himself away. As things unravelled around us, my attention returned to my best friend.

He was glaring at me. I couldn’t recall a single time I’d ever seen him so angry. He stood abruptly, and his pacing was fast. The game had obviously ended, and I couldn’t help but chase after the man. Each person had gone in a completely different direction, and the group was separated. I didn’t care, though, because Ryan was clearly upset about something.

I lost complete sight of him, because Ryan had longer legs and had broken out into a run at some point. My heart bounded in my chest out of fear, because he’d completely strayed from the path. We were in the middle of woods, and I could only rely on the distant crunching of leaves.

The forest finally fell silent, and shivers rolled down my spine. I stopped, trying to hear anything. The crickets were deafening, almost, but then I heard a distant curse and something cracked. I once again took off in that direction, although I made sure to keep quiet.

I finally emerged into a small, woodland clearing. Ryan was in the center, sitting on a broken stump. He was hunched over, away from me. His foot was thumping up and down on the grass while he was muttering furiously and incoherently. In his hand, he had some damp bark. He kept cracking it over and over until portions were but dust.

He dropped the bark altogether, reaching into his pocket. This was when I finally emerged, my shoes squeaking against the tall grass. He peered at me in the darkness, his handsome features illuminated in the moonlight. I’d seen him annoyed. I’d seem him depressed. I’d seen a wide range of negative emotions, but never had I seen him so pissed. I gulped and kept walking toward him, worried he’d storm away if I didn't reach him.

Luckily, he didn’t move. And he didn’t say anything, either. He just watched as I approached, a frown firmly planted on his face. I stopped in front of him, gazing down at him. I pulled at my shirt anxiously.

“Uh, Ryan… what’s wrong?”

He rolled his eyes and stopped looking at me. “What’s wrong, she asks. Isn’t that the question of the fucking day.” I frowned, moving to place my hand on his shoulder. However, he pulled away. “Don’t touch me.”

“I… don’t get it. Were you uncomfortable by the dare? You didn’t have to kiss me. You could’ve kissed Emma —"

“Of course that’s what you think this is about,” he muttered. “God, I’m stupid for thinking you’d understand.”

“Just stop.” He rose to his feet, suddenly towering over me. I didn’t take a step back, though, instead grabbing onto the front of his shirt to keep him from escaping. He grabbed at my hands tightly, but made no attempt to pull himself free. “Stop pretending you like me more than him. You’ve made it loud and clear.”

“Ryan, you’re my best friend,” I soothed desperately. “You can tell me what’s bothering you —"

“Bull shit. You like him, Y/n. You’ve been hanging out with him all, uh, goddamn summer. You have a crush on him and it’s obvious —"

I scoffed, tugging him closer by his shirt. “You mean Dylan? You can’t be serious, Ryan. I just chose to kiss him so I didn’t make you uncomfortable —"

“What are you talking about, Ryan? We work together. Of course we’ve talked before. He’s my friend. Besides, what does it matter? I don’t have a crush on him, but why would you care? Just tell me what’s wrong —"

Ryan grabbed my shoulders, glaring angrily at me. I was caught off guard completely as he leaned down and pressed his lips against mine again. Except this time, it wasn’t for a dare. My breath caught in my throat as I stood there, letting him kiss me. My grip on his shirt loosened.

Ryan pulled away, and as frustrated as he still looked, there was something else in his eyes. I blinked at him in confusion, too taken aback to truly digest what had just happened. I opened my mouth, placing my hands on his chest. 

“Don’t you get it, Y/n? I like you, dumbass,” Ryan huffed. “But clearly, you, uh, don’t feel the same way.”

“I - I’m sorry, Ryan, I didn’t know —"

“Of course you didn’t.”

Ryan suddenly pulled away, and I was left with no choice to follow him. He seemed to know the way back to the campground. I was still frightened of the woods, so despite the revelation, I attached myself to his arm in hopes of feeling safer.

“Ryan,” I suddenly spoke, and I felt his eyes watch me carefully. “Maybe when we get home, we can just… go on a test dater something. I - I’ve just never thought about you that way before. Not in the rude way, because you’re my best friend and I love you, but —"

Ryan’s sigh interrupted me, and I gulped nervously. “Y/n it’s fine. Maybe I overreacted… Just, uh… think about it. Please?”

I nodded and sent him a sweet smile. He seemed calm and complacent again, his shoulders lowering. He walked closer to me. It was a nice moment since, at least now, I din’t have to worry about romance with Ryan. We were just normal. We were just… walking through the woods… at night… all alone…

Crack.

I wanted to freeze and question what I’d just heard, but Ryan pulled me along. There was something slightly more urgent in his pace. However, I heard more nature noises as we progressed further through the woods. And then, we heard it. A deep, low growl that almost sounded human.

Ryan tensed, and we both froze, peering around the pitch black wilderness. The campfire couldn’t be too far away, and yet, whatever animal was in pursuit was hot on our trail. Ryan grabbed my arm and pulled me closer, taking up a protective stance. His frown returned. No words were exchanged, because we both realized a bear must’ve been close, although I’ve never seen one in person.

Suddenly, a growl sounded from right next to us. 

“Run!” Ryan boomed.

He pushed me forward just in the knick of time, because something leapt at us from the trees. A scream bubbled in my throat as I turned and stumbled away, only to see a maroon, fleshy beast tackle Ryan to the ground. My throat burned from how harshly I cried. It was like my like flashed before my eyes as the monster tore a large chunk from Ryan’s shoulder.

The moment the monster was done chomping on my best friend, I dashed up to him. It had hopped away, taking large chunks of his flesh with him. The monster was boney and yet seemed to have the strength of a thousand men. It almost seemed as though it was a human being stripped of all its skin, as its muscles flexed. And yet, its fangs glistened in the moonlight as it stared at me predatorily. Its hand and feet were that of a beast’s; long, sharp, and capable of tearing me to shreds.

I grabbed Ryan’s arm and tried dragging him away. The beast was watching in mock amusement. My blood ran cold and yet adrenaline coursed through my veins. Ryan was heavy, especially when he was unconscious, and yet I tried to pull him in the direction of camp the best I could.

I was suddenly tackled, a large weight forcing me to abandon Ryan. The monster rolled over me, and I realized the only thing I could do was run. Otherwise, we’d both die. I panted furiously, scrambling to my feet. The beast also recovered, jumping at me. I stumbled back, and it went skyrocketing past, giving me the chance to make a run for it. 

A gunshot suddenly rang out. I screamed again, and I saw the monster had been shot by a stranger. Probably a hunter, from his attire. I knew I needed to run, though. I had  to get back to camp. We had to call an ambulance.

I made a mad dash through the woods. I screamed again, but I still had to steady my breathing. I hopped over a branch. I kept running, tasting a mixture of tears and sweat dribble down my nose. I passed a late boulder. 

I tripped suddenly, having forgotten about the small cliff I’d passed on the way here. Dirt coated my entire bodice, and I heard the monster jump down. A scream bubbled in my throat as I rolled just in the knick of time. It came crashing down beside me, letting out an oddly humane yelp. I pushed myself to my feet and kept running. I didn’t have enough time to escape up a tree. I’d just get grabbed.

The monster groaned, and I suddenly stopped. I passed another large rock and I snuck unto it. I pressed my back to it and slid to the ground, as to minimize my size. My heart was thudding in my chest, and I was terrified the beast had the ability to hear it. 

The monster had clearly fixed itself right up. I heard it standing on the rock above me, panting and growling furiously. I made the mistake of looking up.

I was so terrified that I had become paralyzed. Peering out over the rock above me, standing on its own two feet, was the monster. It was watching the forest. Waiting for me to reveal myself. Its mouth was wide open as it huffed. It sneezed loudly, spit and blood flying from its fleshy form. It was covered head to toe in sticky blood.

I flinched when a large droplet fell from its cheek, landing directly on my cheek. I almost flinched. My lips were quivering. My eyes were shut. Oh, god, I was going to die, wasn’t I —

The monster suddenly leapt from the rock, bounding into the wilderness at top speed. I finally felt like I could breathe. The only problem was that it had ran in the direction of camp, at least where I thought it was. I had to return to Ryan. That hunter… he surely could protect us.

I shakily rose to my feet. My entire body was covered in dirt and sprayed blood. I climbed over the hill and went back the direction I came in. A sob threatened to release, but instead, I hiccuped quietly. I was so very out of stamina, though. My legs were shaking. I placed my hand against a tree to stabilize myself. 

I suddenly heard the loud pounding of footsteps. I was about to scream, but when I peered over my shoulder, Dylan emerged from the darkness.

“Dylan…!” I cried, going for him immediately. The gun was slung over this back, so he easily welcomed a hug with open arms. As he stroked my hair, concern laced in his features, I stuttered further, "Ryan…! He was attacked by some monster! And - and there was a hunter - and…”

“Y/n, Y/n, breathe,” Dylan said. “You’re safe now. But if Ryan’s in danger we have to go find him.”

“Yes, yes! Let’s go!” I agreed eagerly, pulling away. I was a little light-headed and stumbled, but Dylan grabbed my arm. 

“Wait, it’s dangerous. You should go back to the camp —"

“No, Dylan, I can’t. I have to make sure Ryan’s okay —"

“Okay, okay! Just stay, uh, alert,” Dylan caved instantly. “Let’s go.”

I urgently tugged on his arm in the direction I came from. It was crazy to me, that not even ten minutes ago, Ryan had confessed. And now was bleeding out because some supernatural… thing had attacked him. He could be dead right now, and could have no idea.

We trotted through the wilderness. We paused simultaneously, though, as up ahead we heard something dragging through the shrubbery. Dylan quietly pulled the gun out, and as we entered the clearing, I gasped.

Dylan held the gun up threateningly. The hunter from before was dragging Ryan’s struggling and conscious body. “Hey! Get the fuck off of him! Yeah, you heard me!” Dylan threatened.

“Stop! Drop him or h - he’ll shoot!” I shrieked.

The hunter looked up. However, he continued dragging Ryan. Who was fighting the hunter, and when his eyes landed on me, that even fueled him further. Tears sprouted in my eyes once more and I cowered behind Dylan, clutching his waist.

Dylan gulped, repositioning the gun. He brought his eye up to the aim, and only then did I realize the hunter was coated head to toe in blood. All I could hope was that it wasn’t Ryan’s.

Ryan pushed at the man, suddenly full of energy, when he realized Dylan wasn’t planning on shooting. I squealed when he suddenly bit the man’s hand. He screamed at the top of his lungs. None of us could’ve predicted that he would shoot off his own finger.

He dropped Ryan entirely and made a run for it. I finally felt safe enough to emerge from Dylan, running and collapsing next to Ryan. He propped himself on one elbow, his sweat glistening in the moonlight. He was panting profusely, terror prevalent in his gaze.

His free arm grabbed me and pulled me closer. I bit my lip as I pulled Ryan to sit up against me, and once I did so, I ran my fingers through his hair. Dylan ran up to us, gun still. Poised for any other predators. “Ryan, oh god… I’m sorry I had to leave, b - but it was going to kill me —"

“Y/n, it’s fine,” he grunted. “Are you hurt?”

I chuckled dryly. “You’re the one with a missing shoulder, and yet you ask me if I’m hurt?”

Dylan tapped his foot anxiously. “Guys. I hate to break this up, but, like, there’s something out there and dudes covered in blood. We have to head back.”

“Oh, thank god,” I groaned. I tucked an arm underneath Ryan’s arm pit. The one that was uninjured, of course. Dylan was still on guard, but he offered Ryan a hand. We were able to get him on his two feet and, slowly but surely, headed back to the campfire.

[thepeacefulgarden]

You are enough, and you are worthy.

Just for being you. Just for being here. No ifs, ands, ors, or buts about it. Yes, even on your worst days.

[v-sansings]

S/i: That one.

Platonic f/o: Youuu sure bout that…?—

S/i: No buts. Or ifs ands ors. *That* one.

Platonic f/o: I’m not responsible for what happens to you.

F/O: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products!

F/O: *sprays hairspray in their mouth*

F/O: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good.

[enbiart]

aaah some good angst in the amphibia au, how does hero interact with hop pop? Also how sunny and hero react to the giant bugs over time?

hop pop adopts hero. no ifs ands ors or buts. that is now Henry Plantar.

also w the bugs... sunny develops a a general respect for them. he doesnt like them, but he respects them as creatures that are simply existing. hero uh. at most he goes from curling up in a ball at the sight of them to being able to kill them himself. he has a lot of nightmares abt giant spiders fjdjdhdjdjd

[spilledkauffie]

Crying on Level 4

Pairing: Mobius M. Mobius x TVAworker!Reader Word Count: 2.0k T/W: flufffff / comfort A/N: comfort fic, sometimes life changes even positive ones are scary.

It had been an exciting weekend for you, new promotion, new office, and new tasks. It was what everyone would call “moving up in life,” yet somehow you didn’t feel the positiveness that everyone claimed should be surrounding you. Replacing it was a sensation of fear and doubt, not of anyone around you, rather of yourself. Clearly people, Ravonna, the Timekeepers, thought you were worthy of this position otherwise you wouldn’t have been given it. Regardless, that just didn’t compute with you.  

Mobius had thrown you a mini congratulations-on-your-new-office party a few days ago, or at least he called it a party, it was really only the two of you. You thought about expressing your fears and anxieties then, but he was so proud of you and venting over champagne didn’t seem like the right time. So, you took to repressing anything and everything regarding negativity about this new promotion, although that doesn’t mean they just vanished from your thoughts. Instead they hung like heavy rain clouds in your mind, keeping you on edge wondering when the downpour of emotion would break free and drown out every bit of functional reasoning.

On Mobius’ newly memorized walk to your office he nodded at everyone he walked past, hands in his pockets, like any other day. Expecting to find you in the new uniform Ravonna had required of you, he already had a witty compliment planned out for when you stepped out from behind your desk. Walking into your office he began, hands on his hips as he looked immediately to a pile of files to his left, “Hey Hun, do you have the-“ He only stopped when he looked up to your desk and realised he’d been talking to thin air. 

Dropping his hands from his hips, he looked around, made one quick sweep behind your desk, just for good measure, but found no trace of you. Pausing for a moment to think, he went through the check list: it wasn’t your day off, it wasn’t lunch hour, it wasn’t a staff meeting day, etc. He hung around only for a moment, before heading off to his cubicle. You had a habit of dropping by, and he figured with all the praise for the new office, you might want some place to hide. He half expected to find you waiting for him there with a “there you are” smile across your lips, but stepping around the corner, hand on the glass half-wall, he found his chair as he had left it: empty.

Setting a hand on his hip, he tapped the top of the half-wall that cornered in his cubicle. Closing his eyes and dropping his head with a smile as if to say “right, of course,” he had one more place to check and headed for the elevators. Down, down, down, each ding resembled a level and it seemed to go on for quite some time, but finally he was there: Level 4. The golden doors slid open and immediately a sweet, but faint, aroma of cookies and cake batter occupied his sense of smell. It wasn’t enough to make one nauseous, just enough to feel like a comfort. The gentle sound of soft melodic harps were played on the level. He nearly ran into a cotton candy coloured cloud on his path.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to the level’s conference room, he found it’s soft velvet lined chairs unoccupied, but heard a familiar mumbling. It was numbers, months, days and smooshed together with “ifs, ands, buts, ors” between phrases. The occasional sniffle and heavy sigh followed by a shallow inhale was easily heard as well. Shutting the door behind him, he circled the table and found exactly what he was looking for. Sitting criss-cross on the floor, surrounded by two stacks of files, and papers sprawled out in every direction, he found you in an old TVA sweatshirt people were given during training days. 

“If B-15 could be there in twenty minutes, the fifteen minute break wouldn’t need to be a concern, but- but,” you were mumbling through apparent tears, but wiping them away in time to keep them from falling onto your papers.

Standing a few feet away, as to not startle you, Mobius watched the scene play out, repeating: mumbles, tears, wipe, sniffle, scribble-scribble, move paper; mumbles, tears, wipe, sniffle, and so on. Only once did he see you lean back against the glass wall, pen in hand, fists pressed to your temples, as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to take deep breaths. He opted to move in after witnessing your distress.

“Hey there,” he started, soft tone as always, catching your attention without startling you.

“Hey,” you managed in a hoarse tone, wiping your eyes now with both hands gently, before looking up at him from where you sat, “did you- do you need me to sign something?”

Your eyebrows were furrowed and lips slightly parted, tear stains obvious even though they were currently absent and now absorbed into your sweatshirt sleeve, leaving little dark blobs in the fabric. It was a look that seemed to say if he said yes you would shatter and only prove that you’d already forgotten something pertaining to your new job.

A sympathetic smile came to his face, “no,” he shook his head, “I don’t need you to sign anything, Sweetheart.”

“Okay,” you said almost silently.

“But I would like you to tell me what’s going on,” he stated.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you played it off, glancing back down at your paperwork, but you couldn’t repress a quick sniffle, to which you, as casually as you could, wiped your top lip with the edge of your rolled over sleeve.

“Honey, you’re crying on Level 4,” Mobius said with loving honesty, and a tender chuckle.

“So?” You asked, tilting your head just enough to see him.

“This is the Sweet Dreams level,” he took his hands out of his pockets to gesture to the glass window, “there are literally sheep, ridiculously fluffy sheep, jumping over fences in a time loop. The air smells like a fresh bakery, clouds float down the hallway, the sound of harps are somehow everywhere. I’m pretty sure they have a teddy bear for a secretary. . .,” he paused furrowing his eyebrows and looking down, “how does that work? They don’t have fingers do they- no, that’d be creepy.”

That managed a small laugh from you, bringing his attention back to you, “so, come on, talk to me.” 

You leaned your back against the glass pane, staring straight down at all your paperwork, “I know I should be happy, overjoyed, excited, but. . .I’m not,” you shrugged, feeling the tears well in your eyes, “I’m scared, really scared.” 

With that, the wave of emotion hit again, there was always something about finally speaking your feelings aloud to another soul that forced you to feel the weight of them. Covering your mouth with your hand and squeezing your eyes shut, attempting to halt the full on tear attack, you heard a loving “aw, honey.”

Next thing you knew, Mobius was sitting next to you, opening his arms to you. Gladly accepting, you took a few minutes to cry it out in his embrace, he hushed you and reassured you that it was okay and not to worry about soaking his favourite tie. He just held you until you raised your head and took a deep breath, his arm was still around you, now slipping to rub your back as you straightened up.

Seeing you cry hurt his heart, but he knew this was a needed, necessary, long overdue cry. He brushed a thumb featherlike across your wet eyelashes and kissed your forehead while you composed yourself best you could.

“You wanna talk about that?” He asked with a half smile and tilt of the head.

You nodded, smiling to yourself that you let yourself get to this point. Setting your hands in your lap, you used your hands to talk, interlacing them and unlacing them, opening them and clenching them, spinning them, and so on, as you did when nervous or stressed.

“I know this promotion is a positive, I know that,” you started as if convincing yourself still.

“Right,” Mobius nodded, hanging his wrist over his bent knee.

“But,” you inhaled, “the change is scary. I’m farther away from you, I’m in a new location, with new people, new assignments, and that is kind of terrifying. I know I was picked for a reason, but if i get this wrong, I could screw up so much stuff, that has a lot of consequences, for more people than just myself. If all goes well no worries, BUT if something, one thing goes wrong. . .”

He let you take a breather without interruption.

“I want this, I’ve wanted this,” you admitted, looking down at your hands in your lap, “but now that I’m here, it feels so much scarier than I ever imagined. Now I’m asking myself: am I up for this? And if I’m not-”

Looking up, your eyes were lined with tear drops ready to fall like rain. Mobius tilted his head sympathetically telling you ‘it’s okay.’ 

Tilting your head back, you tried even harder to keep them from falling. Laughing, you sniffled, pressing the bridge of your nose with both fingertips, “this is pathetic right? I’m pathetic for thinking like this, right?” You mumbled into your hands.

“No,” Mobius started, sincerely, “no, you’re not. It’s natural to dislike change, good or bad, it’s still forcing you to change, which we are creatures of habit, so there’s nothing wrong with being scared about the uncertainty ahead.”

Looking at him, you rolled your head almost against your shoulder with a ‘really or are you just saying that?’ expression.

“I’m serious,” he started again, shaking his head, “you know what happens when things change, it can be dangerous, it can be good, but it always takes time to get used to. New things are scary, but you’ve got this. Don’t put the pressure on yourself to be perfect though, some of the best things happen when we aren’t perfect. But, if anything happens, I’ll take the blame.”

You smiled, “you’re technically not in my department.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mobius shrugged, “I get in trouble enough that I know how to get out of it.”

You leaned into him and hummed, knowing his statement was all too true. He kept you close with one arm still reaching around your frame. Change could be good, you knew that to be true as well by just looking at the person next to you; you swore you’d never fall in love, and yet it was the best change you’d ever experienced. 

“So, what is all this?” he stretched out his legs, crossing one heel over the other and pointed to your paperwork labyrinth. 

“Well, this is everyone’s schedule,” you gestured to everything, “based on the daily reports that are submitted to me from everyone and every department, so far I’ve managed to schedule three months out-”

“Three months?” Mobius said with a shocked laugh, “wow, I haven't even submitted my paperwork for today. . .I’m gonna get a pass on that though right?”

You looked up to find him already looking at you, there was no way you could deny him that, “yes,” you agreed, leaning in to press a soft kiss against his lips, which he obviously saw coming and was prepared to respond to. Your smile broke the kiss, pulling back you glanced up through your eyelashes.

“See,” he whispered, softly shaking your shoulder, “you’re already helping people out.”  You closed your eyes and laughed, leaning further against his chest. Kissing your temple he said in a more serious and confident tone, “you’re gonna do great.”

“I love you,” you sighed, wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you more,” he spoke softly, before a pause, “is that my sweatshirt?”

[azuremist]

Going through folks who recently followed me, I noticed two prosh/ippers (including one who was a self-admitted romanticizer of serial killers; yes, using that exact wording), so here’s your irregular reminder that I have trauma with prosh/ippers and pros/hip ideology, so I, with all due respect, request that all pr/oshippers stay at least 5,000 feet away from my blog at all times 💕

If you fail to do this, you will be immediately hardblocked. No second chances; no ifs, ands, ors or buts.

[apollostears]

Chris Evans As A Dad

Fandom(Celebrity): Chris Evans

Warning(s): little bit of swearing, mentions of postpartum depression, little hints of sexy time

Pairing: as per usual, poc!reader, although it’s not specifed

Creator: Maya

Now, LETS GET IN TO ITTTTTT

*gif not mine*

As we all know, CEVANS wants to be a daddy and I strongly believe he would be the proudest father in. the. WORLD!!!!

During the pregnancy, Chris would be extremely hands on and attentive. I’m talking birthing classes/podcasts…everything!

He would handle every craving order and every mood swing, taking them with pride knowing that you’re like this because you’re having a baby.

Regardless of the gender, Chris WILL have the nursery done three months into the pregnancy. No ifs, ands, ors, or buts about it. That is his project to take care of and he actually does a pretty good job.

Chris would DEFINITELY get you a push present idc! (i will die on this hill!!) Maybe it was a pair of Balenciaga shoes or a lambo truck, hell maybe even an Island. Chris would get you the biggest push present ever.

Would definitely document your entire pregnancy with home videos and totally call them “Baby Evan’s pregnancy diaries” or something like that. It would be annoying on days when Chris pushes the camera all in your face to document your mood swings and eating habits, but then you see his wide smile and can’t help but smile with him.

As excited as he would be, I think he would keep most of your pregnancy private from the public and only post whenever you posted something.

Dodger definitely has a “Soon-to-be big brother” doggy sweater that he wears with pride as he sits at your feet or in front of your stomach, ready to protect you and the baby.

When the baby does come, it’s like his entire world stops. One minute y’all are asleep and the next, you’re screaming at him to wake up because the baby is here.

You both opted on a home birth and he helps the midwife get things ready while the doula calms your nerves.

Chris whips out his video camera and records the entire thing, start to finish. When y’all rewatch it, the sound of Chris crying is heard for pretty much the entire video.

He is still hands on even after pregnancy and does very well taking care of the baby, strongly believing in the ideology that since you carried the baby for nine months, the least he could do was be up for the late night cries and feedings.

If you do experience postpartum depression, Chris also helps you get through the that the best way he can. I think it would really hurt him to see you go through something like that.

Also wanna add that as soon as you’re able to have sex, he’s fucking another baby into you ASAP

For the entire first year of y’all child’s life, Chris is documenting every little thing and when they take their first steps, Chris (once again) cries an ocean of tears and posts the video on social media for everyone to see.

Your kid will say ‘DaDa’ first, that is absolutely not up for debate.

Any extracurricular activities your child joins, Chris is the parent that becomes the coach or organizer. You become the mom that always brings snacks and kisses for the booboo’s or hurt feelings.

Road trips are frequent and that is how the family tradition of going to Bear Mountain every winter, had started.

You and Chris probably end up becoming advocates for child safety and end up partnering with companies to get carseats, food, blankets, and other basic child needs out to less fortunate families and other countries.

Speaking of giving, best believe another family tradition would be volunteering at food drives, shelters, and toy drives every Christmas and Thanksgiving.

Chris would really cherish every moment spent with your child and future children, being completely grateful to experience fatherhood and with you as their mother.

[thatgrossmidwesternboy]

Tw: mentions of b*stiality and r*pe

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Thats it. I'm done with the scum of the world. I was scrolling through Twitter to see if I wanted to make a therian account on there.

What I stumbled upon is mountains of "zoophiles". Which is a fancy way of saying someone into b*stiality. It makes me sick to my fucking stomach.

"Zoophillia" will never be valid or okay. Idgaf if you're a therian/otherkin. ITS NOT FUCKING OKAY. If you genuinely don't see a problem with it, go get fucking help.

B*stiality is animal abuse and r*pe. No ifs, ands, ors, or buts about it.

I have no problem sinking my teeth into sick fucks. If you're reading this and are one of these sick pigs I have only one thing to say to you:

Run.