#‘you are one ugly motherfucker’

[hearmeoutworthypoll]

Predator from Predator (1987)

No shortage of monster fuckers looking to be his prey BUT

[moongothic]

do you have favourite Crocodile face?

the one he makes at the end of chapter 540, vol. 55 is seared straight into my soul. he almost went }:3 and I cannot deal with it like a normal human being. I love his facial expressions, those sad eyebrows are *chef's kiss* 💚🐊

Ah yes, this one, right?

It's a hilarious expression and definitely an underrated one kjshdfjgkghf Like we've seen him smiling plenty of times before this, with that classic evil grin we all know and love, so something about this panel is so funny to me, like if it wasn't for the hollow look in his eyes he'd look almost mischievous here and I love that. He's up to no good and he knows it dsjkfhgshdfghkdjf

IDK if I have a favorite expression from Crocodile, typically my favorites are just the really meme'able, funny expressions and this man does not have any of those to offer (which is fine really), and really every panel he appears in during Impel Down + Marineford are fantastic, Oda kept us so well-fed

I think I'll give a shout-out to this panel though, because while I think this man was already irreversibly changing my brain chemistry (while I was falling down the Crocodad Rabbithole and re-reading Marineford obsessively), I think this is the panel that finally kind of broke me

Like I think it was this panel (from chapter 577) that finally made me go "wait, am I losing it or is Crocodile kinda handsome" lmfao

[godisasimp]

Just came out of the theater.

Words cannot describe how much i love that movie.

[alphalone3141592]

I wanna punt the cunt that made apple music's stations memoryless so hard in the head they enter low earth orbit

[apollo-zero-one]

Man I can't believe I had the chance to go to a performing arts school up through middle school and I fuckin quit after 6 months just because I got bullied. BRO YOUR HOMEWORK WAS POETRY!! YOU HAD TO PRACTICE DANCING TO COTTON EYE JOE AS YOUR BIG UNIT TEST. GYM CLASS HAD A CIRCUS UNIT!! YOU HAD A WHOLE DAILY CLASS ON IMPROV!!! YOU FOOL!! YOU ABSOLUTE IMBICILE!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A YOUTUBER!!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE TWEENAGERS GETTING LOADED BY MAKING SHITTY YOUTUBE SHORTS IN 2008-14!! But noooOoooOOOoo little miss Noellie (who WANTED TO GO!! who worked SO HARD and sent in an application essay and did an INTERVIEW to get in!!) couldn't handle disruptive classmates or little scuffles and petty grudges and general Attitude of the other students and cried to mommy to put her back in public school. I am EATING MY HAIR over what Could Have Been. I COULD BE SOMEONE'S ANNOYING YOUTUBER!! I could be a DISGRACED DISNEY CHANNEL STAR!! I could be an America's Got Talent winner! A mild to moderately successful comedian! I could be making short films!! But no no no precious thin skinned baby me heard a few new cus words and watched a teacher get heckled and begged to give up The Dream in favor of?? Quiet math tests?? I am such a fucking quitter I quit everything the second it gets too hard I always take the out as soon as it's offered what's my fucking damage.....

[b-rainlet]

The way women experience horror is so much more interesting than men

[skenpiel]

i've been occasionally seeing you post about pokemon and i'm Curious,,,,,,,,,,,, what starter did you pick? and what's your team like!!!!

I PICKED CYNDAQUIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and my team changes a lot cause 1. i get bothered if All my pokemon (including the ones in my pc) arent the same level and 2. theyre all underleveled as FUCK. but mainly i keep a farfetched and poliwhirl as my tm/hm slaves and then i just kinda, pick whoever else is in need of exp. currently its just my misdreavus and then some low level gastly and paras i caught cause they know hypnosis and stun spore and i am getting SICK and TIREDDDD of hunting for raikou -_-

[britneyshakespeare]

You know. Sorry for another sporadic unprompted post about that friend who has caused me so much trauma in the past year. But I remember this one time his old high school friend I met once, he's really nice I liked him a lot. Cool guy. But he lives far away so they don't meet up a lot but they text. One time he sent this friend some pictures of us that were taken at a cooking class that he'd been bothering me into going to despite that it was all the way in Boston, there was a lot of walking to get to it, etc. And I was like constantly feeling sick and run down and exhausted from having Covid recently. He texted his friends those pictures of the two of us and his friend asked "Are you and Diana dating lol" like pretty innocently but honestly curious.

And he just replied "Are you fucking high" and he showed me and told me about it. Like. Like it was uncomfortable for HIM to be asked that.

Like his response isn't SUPER INSULTING TO ME.

[slovo-theshattered-onion]

me: buys clementines

clementines: aren't as sour as oranges and the wrong texture

me: and i took that personally

[cupidlakes]

tiktok commentating on dreams face reveal is so weird like “FANS are very disappointed in dreams face reveal” oh we’re calling them fans now ? 😭 why do you ppl like to twist everything do you have a functioning brain

[alvallah]

If you stop procrastinating at work and get your projects done I'll feed you and give you head. Will that get your work done? Fuck me if I'm wrong 👀.

How am I supposed to respond to this.

[samuraisharkie]

did I SERIOUSLY get called an “absolute walnut” from a tumblr checkmark blog. AIEJGKWJGKDNGM. if I saw sainamoonshine irl I would maul their ableist condescending ass within an inch of their life. not worth it to fight with them bc they clearly don’t care about anyone else’s perspective but jesus fucking CHRIST what a piss poor refutation of me calling them ableist. And in three paragraphs no less!

[lemonlover1110]

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

Sukuna

Pairing: Sukuna x f!Reader

Summary: Sukuna's twins are miniature versions of himself which can only mean one thing: they're two little demons.

Warnings: MDNI, family content, fluff(?), dad!Sukuna, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), titjob, nipple play

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna had to change a lot of things in his life when his twins came along. The man that never imagined he’d become a father, was lucky enough to knock up his girlfriend. Or wife, whatever he gets to call you now. One very unlucky lucky night he decided that protection was a stupid idea, but the universe got back at him to teach him a life lesson, and you ended up pregnant with two– Not one, but two babies. 

Sure, Sukuna loves his babies and all that shit which made it easier for him to change into a better person. He’s not a stellar parent or anything, and during the first year of their life he was struggling to figure it out but the job has gotten easier. He’d argue that the job is fun too, seeing the little shits form their own personalities or whatever is interesting. 

Though one could say that it’s only fun for Sukuna since the kids are turning out just like their father. For you, on the other hand, it is stressful. Having two children screaming just like their father isn’t exactly fun, not when you have to correct them. It was hilarious to watch Sukuna teach his nephew cuss words for the little guy to run around, yelling the atrocities (nearly giving his father a heart attack); it’s not fun when you’re in the mother’s shoes. 

“Fuck you-” “We don’t say that around here!” “Daddy says it!”

“Motherfucker!” “Watch your mouth!” “Daddy told me I can say it!”

It’s a never-ending correction in your home, and it doesn’t help that your husband doesn’t help you out. Sukuna kind of does his part by watching his mouth around the pair, but that’s not enough anymore. They’re almost six, it’s too late for them to unlearn certain words… or other behaviors. 

“Stop arguing you two!” You yell from the kitchen, hearing them bicker about something. They’re always arguing because one is mean to the other. Sukuna’s genes are too strong. Luckily for you, you were blessed with a girl and a boy so you don’t have to try again for another baby. You won’t have to repeat this.

“Ugly bastard!” Akane, your baby girl, yells. And you wish it was a moment where you got to think if you heard wrong because your baby girl would never say that, but she would. This one says it nearly daily.

“Akane, if I hear one more word out of you, girl! I swear–” You’re cut off by your husband, startling you as he hugs you from behind. He’s not listening, or well, he is and he doesn’t want you to correct the girl.

“Aren’t you just so proud of her?” He sounds elated, knowing his daughter sounds just like him. If only you could share that sentiment. You push him away and focus on finishing lunch for the little rascals. 

“My girl friends invited me out, and guess what? You’re taking over tonight.” You tell him, and Sukuna’s eyes widen. You’ve never made that threat before– Usually when you go out, you take them along or drop them off at someone else’s place because you doubt Sukuna can handle them. The longest they’ve been alone has been an hour.

“Someone will end up getting stabbed.” Is his answer, hoping that it’s enough to scare you into staying. Sukuna loves his babies, but he knows he can’t handle them. He made a grave mistake by molding them into mini versions of himself. Sukuna can’t control himself, how is he able to control two small Sukunas?

“And it’s probably going to be you if you don’t play your cards right. Good luck.” You answer, making it clear that you’re not staying home no matter what. You don’t acknowledge Sukuna as he begins to tell you the horrific sights that you might come home to. Sure, your kids are rowdy and a lot like their father but they won’t burn the house down… if you hide the matches.

“Akira! Akane! Come here!” You ignore him, calling your kids for their lunch. Sukuna sighs, rolling his eyes. 

They can’t be too bad…

“Hold his legs!” Akane yells to her brother while she pulls Sukuna’s hair. He doesn’t know what happened, he just fell asleep on the couch and woke up to his arms being restrained while one twin wipes something on his face. 

“What the fuck are you two doing?!” Sukuna raises his voice, rightfully so considering the position he’s in right now. He was warned, yet chose not to listen. Sukuna could kick the little shit that’s trying to tie him together but he won’t in fear that he might be too harsh and send the kid to the hospital. Oh, he hates them so much right now but any other time he’s willing to give up his life for them.

“We’re just playing.” Akira answers, and Sukuna could strangle one of the twins right at this moment– Too bad his hands are tied. How is this playing? Are they simulating a kidnapping or what?

“Untie me, now!” He orders, but his words go in one ear and out the other. He’s not mommy, he’s not uptight and lets them do whatever so this must be a joke.

“Quick, grab mommy’s makeup!” Akane yells, and Sukuna clenches his jaw. He’s trying to free himself, but they got him good. He needs to check what the kids are watching from now on because this is worrying for him.

“Akane, let me go before I get angry.” Sukuna threatens, but what can he possibly do when he’s tied up? 

“I got it!” Her twin comes into the living room with your makeup bag. Sukuna is squirming, trying his best to break free from his confinement but he can’t. Did they catch him while he was tying you up or what? No… He remembers locking the door. 

“If you two don’t let me free in this instant, I’ll make you pay!” Sukuna sounds intimidating, clearly angry at this little stunt. Unfortunately for him, they don’t take him seriously. They fear no one.

“You sound funny.” Akane laughs before pulling on his hair, which makes a cry escape his lips. Oh, he’d love this father thing if they were like you. This whole thing is getting annoying, but not only for him; the pair is getting tired of hearing their father cry and scream. “Akira, grab the tape, daddy is getting annoying.”

“What the fuck are you going to do?! I am your father, you two have to listen to me!” Sukuna is trying his best to break free before the twins tape his mouth and end up killing him. And by some miracle, just as they get their hands on the tape, the front door opens.

He prays that it’s you, ready to save him from the twins’ evil plan. It’s not you, but the next best thing. Sukuna doesn’t waste a second before yelling, “Jin! Stop them before they kill me!”

“What’s happening here?” His brother looks around confused. What did he just walk in on? He got a text from you to check in on his brother since Sukuna would be alone with the twins… and this happens. He sees his beloved nephew walk back with a roll of tape, and Jin picks him up from the ground. “What are you two doing to your dad?”

“They’re trying to kill me!” Sukuna yells, which the twins argue,

“We’re just playing!” Which makes a chuckle come from Jin. It isn’t funny– Well, maybe just a bit. It’s hilarious to see Sukuna get a taste of his own medicine.

“Now, you two, let your dad go.” Jin says, and at that moment they huff and puff. But they listen. He’s watching Sukuna’s expressions, and he stops the twins before they completely free him. “Stop. Go to your rooms.”

“What?! Don’t–” Before Sukuna can finish yelling, they’ve run away. They aren’t going to listen to him. Once they’re out of sight, Jin frees Sukuna and holds the man down, not trusting him enough to let him go.

“You’re not going to do anything to them, right?” Jin sounds as if he were Sukuna’s dad, which only pisses the man off more.

“The fuck am I going to do to them? I didn’t kick the little shit when he was tying my legs because I didn’t want to hurt him.” Sukuna makes a great point, but Jin wasn’t there to witness it. Right now he sees an angry man, and he wants to make sure Sukuna calms down before anything. “Why the hell are you here anyway?”

“Your wife called me to check up on you, and I came just in time.” Jin answers, sitting down beside Sukuna once he knows that his brother is calm enough. Sukuna wants to be mad at you for not trusting him enough to watch his own kids, but he also wants to thank you for saving him tonight. 

“Don’t tell her what you saw.” Sukuna quickly says. It’s more of a warning than a request. Sukuna takes a deep breath. He should be asking what the kids were going to do to him– It wasn’t going to be anything too bad, probably just put on some makeup on him or some other stupid trick. They knew he was going to say no if he asked, so they chose to tie him up. The thought isn’t too far fetched considering who their father is. What he’s thinking right now is,

“Why would they listen to you and not me?” Sukuna wonders, and Jin has an idea as to why. “I mean I’m terrifying, but you? You look like you catch jellyfish with a net and work at the Krusty Krab.”

“Ah, they’re into Spongebob now.” Jin can’t help but laugh. He won’t take the insults to heart since this has always been Sukuna. “I feel like they do find you scary, they just don’t think that you’ll do anything to them if they torment you.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Sukuna isn’t in the mood for this. He can’t just wrap his head around this whole situation.

“You let them get away with a lot when it comes to you. You don’t let them get away with anything when it comes to their mother or other family.” Jin explains, which is valid reasoning but Sukuna rolls his eyes. That isn’t the answer he’s looking for, therefore he won’t accept it.

“Whatever you say. I’m going to check up on them before they flood the house.” Sukuna stands up from his seat, leaving his brother behind. The twins can’t be trusted for too long. 

Lo and behold, they found the matches. 

“You two came into my life as karma, huh?” Sukuna asks, before taking the matches from their grimy hands. “Akane, go annoy your uncle. Akira, you’re getting a bath and that’s final.”

“I thought you said I could bathe only once a week.” Akira points out the agreement they’ve had, but Sukuna has changed his mind. 

“I changed my mind when you and your sister did a kidnapping simulation with me. Plus, your mother says you stink and she doesn’t like you anymore so go to the tub.” Sukuna is not scared of making a little white lie to hurt his son’s feelings. It’s the least he could do.

“Mommy doesn’t what?” Akira’s eyes become watery, his bottom lip quivering at the thought of his mother not loving him anymore. Sukuna would feel a twinge of remorse any other night. 

“He’s lying, bubba.” Akane goes to his brother’s side to comfort him. She might be a little devil, but she has her soft spot. She hugs him tightly and Sukuna has to tear his eyes away from the sickly sweet scene. They won’t get to him. “You do stink but mommy loves you. She told us she loved us before leaving.”

“A lie she told you since she’s not coming back because you stink.” Sukuna isn’t going to stop, even when he hears his son cry. The boy pushes his sister away and runs to the bathroom to wash himself to make his mother come back. Hearing his own son cry is tough, but he’ll pat himself on the back later. 

“You’re next. Now go to your uncle, ask about Yuji or some shit.” Sukuna looks at his daughter, who is more resilient than her brother. She’s only five though, so he can find a way to get through to her with no issue. “Your birthday is coming up soon, huh? Guess I’ll–”

“I’m going!” She yells before Sukuna can finish his sentence, making a smirk come to his face. Smart girl.

He can handle them for the rest of the night, especially with Jin here.

When you come home, your little demons are sound asleep in their bedroom. You tuck them in, and admire the sight that you never see during the day. They almost look like they were sent straight from heaven. It’s a nice sight to come home too.

Your opinion changes when you enter your bedroom and find your husband throwing his clothes into a suitcase. You’ve noticed that over the past years he’s become increasingly dramatic. You let your presence be known as a chuckle escapes your lips, standing in the doorway.

“Is it because they tied you up?” You question, and a frown comes to his lips.

“I told Jin to not tell you. But yes.” He answers, and you step into the room. You shut the door behind you, locking the door just in case things escalate. “They don’t take me seriously, and I told you things wouldn’t go well if you left me alone with them but there you go, going out with your friends.”

“I can’t stay locked up forever taking care of them.” You respond, and he rolls his eyes.

“Leave them with Jin. They take him seriously.” Sukuna says, and you chuckle.

“Unpack your stuff, baby. Stop being so dramatic.” You tell him, heading over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. That’s not enough for him right now though. 

“I’m leaving and never coming back.” Sukuna sounds like a child, which is hilarious. Only those two can get that side out of him. He’ll continue no matter what you say, so you do the next best thing. You lift up your shirt, and his eyes widen for a moment before he tears them away.

“Your boobs aren’t going to work this time.” He claims, and you fix your shirt. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before sighing, “But they do help.”

“Come here, baby.” You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around him. Sukuna hugs you back, and he could sob (just for the dramatics).

“They’re so mean.” Sukuna’s head rests on your shoulder, as his hand travels under your shirt to squeeze your boob. “Can you make me feel better?”

“Can you–” You begin but before you can even finish, Sukuna pulls away and throws the suitcase on the ground. He’ll unpack later. You open your mouth to speak again but he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into a rough kiss. 

His tongue wanders around your mouth, his free hand going under your shirt once again. It’s an old trick, but every time you show him your breasts, he forgets anything and everything. You don’t do it when the matter is a serious issue, but you really can’t do much about the fact that your twins are straight from hell.

Sukuna sits down on the bed, lifting up your shirt, prompting you to take it off. Once it’s out of the way, his tongue licks up your body before giving your tits attention. He rolls his tongue around your nipple while his hand plays with the other one, pinching your nipple and squeezing your boob. You really get him, knowing the exact way to get him to calm down. He pulls away, and kisses between your breasts until he gets to the other tit. He switches to your other tit and entertains himself once again.

He’s having so much fun, his mouth preoccupied with you but there’s an uncomfortable sensation between his pants. He unlatches, looking up at you with lustful eyes. Your gaze falls on the tent in his pants, making you bite down your lip.

“Help me out.” He says, and you help him unbuckle out. You pull down his pants, freeing his cock from its confinement. You kneel down in front of him, a smirk on your lips. This is a great way to apologize.

You spit on his cock before your hand wraps around the base. You lower your head, tongue circling around the tip as your hand strokes his dick. You start off so painfully slow, too painful for Sukuna. You lower your head, taking as much of his dick as you can.

You slowly bob your head, hands wrapping around the park of his cock that is outside and stroking it for him. It’s like heaven for him, though he just wants to push your head down and force you to take all of his cock. You can take it like a good girl, right? He won’t take any risks tonight.

“You can take it all.” You lift your head, and Sukuna whines. You were barely even doing anything, why did you feel the need to stop? A spark appears on his eyes, a smirk coming to his face as you cup your tits. He judged too soon.

You put his cock between your chest, squeezing your cleavage together before moving it up and down his dick. Sukuna’s eyes nearly roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your tits squeezing around him. He grabs the back of your head, pulling back and telling you, “Open your fucking mouth.”

And without missing a beat, you obey, sticking your tongue out. He spits in your mouth, and you swallow immediately. This is the reason why you ended up with twins– You just do shit that makes him feel every inch of your body raw, a need. You’re so obedient and generous with him.

Your soft flesh between his cock is too much for him, and such a nice sight as he watches them jiggle. You should do this more often is all that he can think as your hands pick up speed. He’s rolling his hips, lightly moaning as his breath gets heavy. 

“Good job.” You hear, which tells you all that you need to know. He barely praises you unless he’s close.

“Cum for me, baby. Do it all over my tits.” You tell him, and he bites down his lips to not sound pathetic. Oh, he has to control himself tonight because you might end up with another child. He can’t have that. 

His hands grip the bed sheets as he finishes all over you. His cum covers your chest, all the way up to your neck. Your fingers swipes it, bringing it up to your lips simply for his entertainment, but he’s looking for something else in the nightstand.

He could die right now.

“Ran out of condoms, and I’m not risking anything.” He’s in so much pain as the words leave his lips, and you furrow your brows. Since when has this been an issue?

“You can pull out.” You remind him, but that isn’t cutting it for Sukuna.

“I said I’m not risking anything.” He couldn’t make it any clearer. Tonight was certainly… An experience to say the least.

“Can you at least eat me out?” You ask him, standing up from the ground. There’s no way you’re going unrewarded tonight.

“You have a vibrator, work it out.” He shrugs, and you glare at him. He’s pissed off with you again, leaving him with the twins was a horrible mistake on your part.

“You’re such a jerk.” You roll your eyes at him, and hearing him chuckle makes you want to hit him. You manage to restrain yourself, managing to mutter out a simple, “Fuck you.”

“Aw, they get it from you. How cute.” He says, which makes your palm lightly slap his forehead. “Hey! Maybe next time don’t leave me alone–”

“The vibrator is going to do a better job than you anyway.” You cut him off, going to the bathroom to clean yourself up… Getting all dirty and for what? 

“If you really want another pair, I’ll give them to you.” Sukuna stands up, following behind you to annoy you.

“Get a fucking vasectomy.” You respond, and you feel his arms wrap around you, stopping you from going any further. Of course he can’t leave you alone. “Sukuna, I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll help you.” 

[shizucheese]

Hey guys, we need to talk. Because a certain little something in TMAGP 8 is causing what is genuinely the most toxic part of the Magpod fandom at large to once again rear its ugly head. So let's talk about podcast character appearance head canons, shall we?

I'm tagging this with the Magnus Archives, TMA and Magpod tags because I am absolutely calling all of you out, but if you don't want spoilers for The Magnus Protocol episode 8 then stop reading right now.

.

.

. Okay, so, Gerry exists in the TMAGP universe. He's happy (or at least acts cheerful). And some people have headcanoned this to mean that he is no longer goth, or at the very least isn't dying his hair black with bad box color. And other people have decided to get seriously agro over this. I have literally seen with my very own eyeballs someone call "un-gothing" Gerry a "hate crime" and calling the person they were talking to "gothphobic."

Let me make this absolutely clear for all of you: podcasts are a purely audio medium and unless a physical trait of theirs is explicitely stated, everyone's headcanon for how a character appears is valid. Goth TMAGP Gerry is valid. But also

Rainbow Goth TMAGP Gerry is valid. Pastel Goth TMAGP Gerry is valid.

Not Goth At All TMAGP Gerry is valid.

Bald Gerry who has actually gotten his brain cancer diagnosed in time and is getting treated for it is valid. Somebody's headcanon of a character that has no canonical description to them, or whose headcanon matches the few crumbs of canonical description we have but otherwise doesn't look the way you imagine them to, is not going to take away from your own headcanon of what a character looks like. If someone imagining or drawing a character looking a different way from how you imagine them looking somehow takes away from your enjoyment of the fandom or otherwise makes you feel like you need to barge in and tell them that they're Wrong and need to conform to your headcanon or else, that is a reflection on you, not them.

And this problem way predates TMAGP, let alone TMAGP 8. The only description we have of John is that he is in his early 30's and has prematurely greying hair.

If someone thinks he looks like the pastiest motherfucker to ever dwell in a basement, an extra-in-the-Adam's Family or Tim Burtan protagonist of a man, let them.

What's that? You want to tell them that John is BROWN and if they don't headcanon him looking that way they're WRONG and RACIST? Back away from the keyboard and go outside.

(Ironically, as someone who started getting grey hairs in my hair in my 20's myself, I'm pretty sure everyone's headcanon of John, with tiny little whisps of grey in his hair, is wrong, because if he was so grey that people were surprised to learn he was "a child of the 90's," he was probably full on salt-and-pepper when he was in his 20's.)

The only description we have for Martin is that he (man who canonically has the self esteem of a used doormat) describes himself as "not the smallest guy", Not-Sasha called him "roomy", Melanie is skinner than him, and Jonny said he imagined him as a "bigger guy" who would beat Alex in a physical fight. If someone decides to take this information and conclude that it means he's tall, broad and has muscle, rather than that he's overweight, fucking let them. If your first instinct to this is to run to your keyboard and call them "fatphobic" or otherwise bash them for it, I once again urge you to back away from your keyboard and go outside.

Someone headcanons Basira not wearing a headscarf? We have exactly 0 canonical physical description of her and the people who headcanon her as having one are basing that purely off of her name alone. Fucking let them. Someone headcanons Melanie and/ or Georgie as a skin color you don't agree with or a hairstyle you don't like? Fucking let them. As long as someone's headcanon of a character's description doesn't contradict the few canonical descriptions we have of a character, why do you care? Them having a different headcanon from you doesn't take away your right to imagine the characters looking however you like, anymore than it should take away their right to do the same. Someone headcanoning John as white (or Black, or Asian, or Mixed, or whatever) isn't going to make all of the fanart of John as brown with long hair suddenly disappear, nor the fanfiction describing him as such (although I do often wonder if the opposite is not true; is the fact that John looks the same in so much of the fanart I see on here really because of fandom "consensus", or is it because people are absolutely awful to anyone who draws him Different?). Someone headcanoning Martin as not fat isn't going to make the mountains of fanart of him as a fluffy little marshmallow vanish into the void (although I do remember hearing about someone getting bullied off the internet for daring to draw Martin as not fat). And someone headcanoning Gerry in TMAGP as not being goth isn't going to take away your preciouse goth TMAGP Gerry headcanon. That should be part of the fun of it, shouldn't it? Seeing what different images people have conjured in their heads of these characters we only get to experience with our ears, and celebrating the differences as well as the similarities? Why are we bullying people into conforming to one appearance of a character when no actual canonical appearance of them exists?

[neontetra]

the most effective and comforting Having Social Anxiety In Public Affirmation ive ever used is "no one fucking cares about you or what you are doing"

[periprose]

May i request a Logan x angel!reader fic where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

anon I loved this ask ahhhh thank you. I'm like half considering making this a series if people want it (so send more angel requests if you're into it!) <3 I may have made it more angsty but there is fluff at the end :) also reader goes by Angel in this fic.

When Flight Comes to Fire (or, Logan gains an Angel)

Word count: 4.5k

Genre: Best friends to lovers, mutual pining, X-Men stuff, idiots in love, angst, hurt no comfort, fluff, kissing

The first time your mutation made it’s appearance– sharp shoulder blades growing into thick appendages, soft, buttery white feathers extending from them in that unhuman way, your wingspan making it clear you would never be normal– your mother retched and said she would have done anything to chop them off of you. Would’ve done anything to have a normal kid.

In fact, she tried, multiple times, to do so. You were only twelve when she came at you for the first time, in your sleep, feeling falsely secure in your father’s platitudes about how she would never really do anything. You woke up to her reaching inside your blanket, grasping one of your wings as she brandished a knife in her other hand. Luckily, your wings were strong enough to shove her off, but you remember how you screamed at her.

Why, mom? It’s me! It’s me–

She didn’t listen, coming at you again, promising in delirious anger that everything would be okay soon if you would just let her fix it, and she had to be held back by your father, as he called the police. 

Because you were her kid, she got let off with a warning, and you were stuck. So you would often fly to the tallest treetops and take your rest there, trying your best to ignore your mother’s other attempts on your life. She didn’t seem to ever get it. You would never be normal.

The final attempt was probably the worst, and the one that caused you to fly away in the end to Charles Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.

You were twenty years old, just old enough to legally leave home– you only stayed because your father insisted. 

She set your favourite tree on fire. You had no idea your mom had been in enough anguish to essentially murder you for daring to be different.

You awoke to the deep smell of smoke, of tree bark charring, and then you heard the cracking and sparks. The tree quickly caught fire, and you shrieked in pure terror as the heat of the flames approached you. The immense light emitting from the fire blinded you, and suddenly there was a sharp pain from your wings and back– you were getting scorched.

So you flew upwards, high enough that the fire dissipated off your back instantly in the cool night sky’s air, and you were fine. Nothing to show other than a little scar, and the sounds of mutiny coming from your mother below. 

You chose to forget her– no point in repairing a relationship with a woman who didn’t want you as you were.

But you’ve never forgotten the pain of being burned alive.

/

“Angel. You ready?” Logan is to your right in the foyer of the mansion. “Everyone else is waiting in the helicarrier.”

He’s your best friend, has been ever since you came to the X-Mansion as a runaway. It’s not an uncommon story among mutants, but Logan always felt you were like him. Rough, not the easiest to speak to, having a tendency to keep to yourself.

The major difference to him is that you’re a lot easier on the eyes. 

Seriously, it was almost like the universe was playing a joke on him. Here was a beautiful girl with literal angel wings, just missing a halo as she arrived at the door for the School for the first time, and he just happened to be the first ugly motherfucker to open the door.

Logan’s never quite sure why you keep up with him, why you stay friends with him, if he was just lucky enough to be the first person you saw and liked. It drives him nuts, the way in which you rely on him, trust him more than he thinks he deserves, you come to him at every moment just to talk over everyone else, when surely you could have anyone else’s attention.

Especially any stupid guy, like him. He’s not sure how you haven’t noticed– even now on the staircase, he can’t tear his gaze away from you. Logan feels bad to be so in love with you, too– he wonders if he’s reading into things too much, if he’s pushing for something that isn’t really there.

And he’ll never know, because you’re so damn flighty. Logan can barely keep up with your whims, and he only knows as much as you’ll tell him about yourself (he hardly knows where you came from that fateful first day), so he just lets you come and go as you please. He’ll keep his feelings deep inside, where you can’t possibly find out about it.

“Yup, I’m fine.” You have a brief smile for him, which gives him that familiar twist of the stomach. “Oh. You’re not wearing your uniform?”

“It’s better to be incognito for this one, according to Scott.” Logan says, adjusting his flannel, mildly enjoying how you check him out. 

You’re wearing the typical X-Men uniform– bright yellow, blue stripes down your sides, room for wings with a removable panel in the back. You let them loose, now, telling Logan you’ll be right back.

When you return, with quite a flourish, flapping wings in a true superhero-landing– Logan sees that you’re wearing a tank-top, and some jeans that really, really highlight your ass– but he tries not to focus on that.

“Hey. Tank’s inside out, Angel.” Logan says, waiting for you to fly off again, but you simply take off the tank top, and pull it back on the right way, exposing your bra-covered chest and lithe waist for the briefest of moments, while Logan loses whatever he was about to say. “I…”

“Don’t be a perv, Logan.” You jokingly side-eye him, never suspecting that that could actually be true as you tease him. “You’ve seen me change tons of times.”

“Yeah, but out in the open?” Logan stares at you. “You’re gonna have a shit-ton of admirers if you keep that up.”

“It’s just me, please.” You start up this whole I’m-not-pretty schtick that Logan is pretty sick of hearing, and he shakes his head. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

Yeah, Logan thinks, they are waiting, but he’s not sure you needed to be all quick and nonchalant about changing, just to get there faster.

That’s what he means by you being flighty– who knows what’s really in your heart, when you act so quickly?

/

“Listen up, X-Men. We’re gonna do our best to avoid damages today, right?” Scott speaks with the air of a leader who’s very fed up with his team members. 

There’s a resounding yes from everyone, including you, Logan, Jean, Storm, Bobby, Rogue, Jubilee, and Kitty.

“What’s our mission?” Scott says, and you answer first.

“Find the new mutant.” You state, and Scott nods, while Logan hides a smile at how adept you’ve gotten at these missions.

“Make sure he doesn’t defect to the Brotherhood.” Jean adds, looking at you and Logan, seeing how close you two sit to each other. She’s kept it to herself– but Jean thinks if you and Logan really do have something going on, that would be nice. For the both of you.

“No damages.” Logan chimes in, and Scott visibly loses a little composure.

“I already said that.” Scott points out, and Logan shrugs. 

“Well, it’s part of the plan, isn’t it?” Logan leans back in his seat on the helicarrier, nestling his head next to your shoulder, not noticing the way your eyebrows raise at the sudden contact. “Better than me not listening at all.”

“Sure, Logan. Fine.” Scott lets it go, knowing better than to ask more from the most “chill” (read: laziest) member of the team.

You laugh a little as Logan smiles a cocky grin.

/

The new mutant is kind of old– you’re looking for a 19 year old with severe singing around his clothes, pale skin, and black hair. You suppose he’d be extremely frightened.

Most mutants don’t deal well with becoming different all so suddenly, let alone at the very late age of 19, when you could assume that you’re pretty much normal. So you and Jean are hoping to find him first– you figure you’re the two that could calm him down.

Unfortunately, you find Jubilee talking to him first. She’s okay, but she has a tendency to be a little too bombastic, as Jean says quite often.

“And there she goes.” Jean grimaces as Jubilee taps the new mutant’s shoulder, and you pick up her saying that “she’s just like him,” which you’re not sure is a delicate way to deal with the topic.

There are crowds of people walking through the streets, too, and a lot of them are glancing at this yellow-jacketed girl talking to a boy with burnt clothes.

If you had found him, you would have brought him to the side, away from people, and–

“His face turned white. He’s freaking out.” You tell Jean, and her eyes narrow.

Bobby, Rogue, and Kitty are nowhere in sight, so this is just one weird young adult speaking to another one, and you really, really wish the rest were here. You, Jean, Logan and Scott are a bit older– perhaps comforting in your age– but you feel like the boy would’ve done well with more peers.

Jubilee raises her hand as you and Jean approach her. “Guys, I got it under control. See, Kyle, these are more people like us. More mutants.”

“...” Kyle looks on in disbelief.

“Kyle?” You try, and he looks at you– there’s something in his eyes that tells you he wants to trust you, but he’s scared– it reminds you of yourself. “We’re here for you if you want us to be. Take your time. Don’t worry.”

You smile, Jean smiles, Jubilee grins, and Kyle seems okay.

It lasts for about two seconds.

Someone drops what sounds like a glass bottle in the distance, and the shattering sound is enough for Jubilee to gasp, a little spark of fireworks launching from her fingertips, towards Kyle, who watches on in trepidation, and his body starts shaking, moving of it’s own accord, clearly reacting to being so close to another form of heat– and you and Jean move, as you yell out “Wait!–”

Kyle shrieks in fear as his body becomes overtaken with flames, combusting with such intensity that the flames roar at least 100 feet over, and Jean– Phoenix that she is– is able to withstand the heat, but you find yourself being pushed back by hot gusts of wind.

It hurts, it feels as if your skin is melting with every passing second. You grit your teeth, trying to breathe as Kyle loses control of his body, and you open your wings, deciding that flying off into the cool air would be a better alternative.

That was a mistake on your part.

The moment you open your wings, Kyle’s fire pushes you backwards, and up, into the hot air, and your wings catch fire as you come too close–

You scream, but it’s unheard through the roar of the flames, and you barely have time to catch yourself as you fall towards the ground, smoking, fiery tendrils engulfing you.

The last thing you remember is your mother’s face.

/

Logan sees it happen from a distance.

Scott wanted him to be as close as possible, something about keeping watch on him– and Logan gets it, he’s not always the most responsible, but later on, in hindsight, he wishes he was, because then he wouldn’t have missed what happened to you– and they both turn as a fire overtakes a block of the city.

“Shit, that must be him!” Scott starts running, Logan not far behind.

It’s only when he sees a pair of white wings, a woman flying up, up, up, the fire approaching dangerously close to her– to you– he starts speeding up, overtaking Scott, pushing people out of the way.

Logan wonders what he could do, anyways. He’s invincible, practically, incapable of taking on much damage as his regenerative abilities heal him– perhaps he could run to the kid and knock him out, sustaining burns in the process, but better him than you.

Never you.

Any second now– Logan sees the boy, and he’s got an open fist ready to lightly tap the back of his neck.

He’s not fast enough. Scott yells out, and Logan looks up to see you engulfed in flames, as you scream, and it’s awful to hear– usually you seemed so speedy, so ready to fly at a moment’s notice, that Logan forgot you could be hurt.

He calls out your name. It’s unheard by you as you crash on the ground, still burning– Bobby, Kitty, and Rogue have caught up to you from the other side of the street, and Bobby quickly makes an icy mist that subdues the flames on you, and Kyle’s roaring fire back into him.  

You’re unconscious as the X-Men approach you. 

Logan touches your face as he kneels next to you, the only one willing to come close right now. “Hey, Angel…”

There’s that unspoken fondness between you two, yet again. Everyone knows, even when Logan has tried to act cool about it. Even now, when Logan attempts to act like he isn’t totally hanging on to your potential words, searching for a breath, a little movement of your head. 

Jean, Scott, Jubilee, and the rest look on in trepidation.

You don’t respond, and he feels his heart plummet. You’re covered in burns, mostly across your stomach and back, and he inhales sharply as he turns you over– there’s fresh, scalded skin, crispy-red to the touch.

Your back, your wings– they’re damaged so badly, with feathers singed straight off, the muscular appendages more visible and wounded, and Logan doesn’t know if you’re alive. He almost removes his hands from you, the very thought seeming to scald him from the inside, and he glares at the kid– the one who looks terribly guilty, now, as he runs away.

“Get back here!” Kitty shouts at him, anger in her eyes, and Scott pulls her aside, explaining that it was clearly an accident of sorts– something that Jean confirms for him with a nod of her head.

Right, Jean. Logan knows that if anyone could confirm if you’re alive, it would be her.  

As Scott, Kitty, Bobby, and Jubilee go hunting for the kid– Rogue stays behind because she’s always felt close to you and Logan– Logan looks up at Jean in a solemn, teary-eyed look that has her understanding immediately.

“C’mon, Angel… stay with us.” She mutters, as she presses her fingers to your head, and she smiles comfortingly at Logan.

“She’s still here. Just barely, but still here.” Jean says, and Logan sighs, an angry, long sigh that tells Jean and Rogue that he’s going to be insufferably feeling at-fault here, even though no one is.

“Let’s go.” He picks you up, feeling the burnt skin through that damn tank-top, now barely being held together as tatters– for modesty’s sake, he takes off his flannel and wraps it around you.

Rogue lets Logan and you walk forward a bit, not wanting him to hear what she’s about to say, and then looks towards Jean. “He really loves her, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah.” Jean exhales. “Let’s hope for his sake that she’ll be okay.”

/

Stupid bitch! You’ve been nothing but a curse on this family– fuck you, I hope your future daughter is just as fucked up as you are–

You awake suddenly, with a loud gasp and yell, your mother’s last words to you flashing on your mind– you attempt to pull yourself forward restrained back by tubing in your arm. You’re stuck in a bed. In a hospital bed of sorts.

Not just any hospital bed, one in the hospital wing of the X-Mansion.

You’re calm, at first, until there’s a sudden ache echoing from your back, through your body, through your wings.

“Ah–!” You groan in pain. Trying to move suddenly has hurt you.

There’s a knock at your door. It’s Beast– or, Dr. Hank McCoy, as he’s better known around the hospital wing.

“You’re awake.” Hank says in relief. “It’s been a few days since your accident.”

“It has?” You widen your eyes in shock. “How, w-what… am I okay?”

The last thing you remember is Kyle exploding in flames, causing you to catch fire– then you blacked out, and– you’re having terrible memories of your mother.

“Hank?” You mutter, and he’s quick to come to your side, blue paw-hand holding your own.

“My mother didn’t…”

“No, she’s not here. She’s never come close to you. You’re safe.” Hank states, as Charles has told him to, remembering the few times you’ve had to come to the hospital wing for comfort before. 

So many mutants have troubled backstories, and he doesn’t quite understand why you don’t try to connect with others about it. Hank feels it could really help, but you’ve always changed the subject away from you.

You’re hurt, mentally, in a way that no one can really fix, and Hank is a big believer in letting people progress when they need to– but he’s so glad that you’ve bonded with Logan. 

“Am I going to be okay?” You tap the side of the bed, fears present in your eyes. “Last thing I remember is Kyle going crazy, and I– I got all burnt–”

“Yes, you’re going to be okay. We’ve administered lots of injections, topical ointments, everything that boosts your healing. You might have some scarring after this is all over, but no injuries. You’re very lucky, Angel.” Hank comforts you, and encourages you to lie back.  

“Lucky. Is that what you’d call a girl with a fucked up state of mind?” You murmur, and Hank shakes his head.

“We’re all fucked up.” Hank gets back up, leaving you in your room. “It’s a prerogative to being in the X-Men.”

You smile softly at that. He’s not wrong, but you wish, you really wish you could’ve just been that normal girl that your parents would’ve loved.

You look down at yourself. You’re wearing hospital scrubs, but there’s an unfamiliar fabric underneath the blanket.

Logan’s flannel is splayed across your stomach, a comforting, soft feeling that has you missing him almost instantly. Had he visited you, when you were unconscious, and decided to leave you this as a token, to help you feel at home? 

You lift it up, taking a deep smell of Logan’s signature scent– pinewood, smoke, and something kind of sweet, like… marshmallows? 

It makes you blush, but almost immediately after, you place the flannel back under the blanket. Logan doesn’t need your silly crush, your overt attachment, and you’re smart enough to keep that to yourself.

/

Logan hears from Hank that you’re awake, and although he wonders why Hank told him first, rather than Charles, or Jean, he’s glad to be the first one to see you.

“Hey.” He knocks on your door. To Logan’s surprise, he lets go of a breath he was holding– you don’t look horrific, you have some colour in your face, and there’s a soft smile on your lips when you see him.

You look just like Angel. His best friend. And he comes in real close, ruffling your hair as he often does, maybe more gentle because he doesn’t want to add any more pain.

“Hey, Logan.” You grab his hand, squeezing it with warmth, grateful to see him, before letting go suddenly and looking away bashfully, and he pauses, reminding himself not to think too highly of it.

“Angel. You’re feeling better?” He asks, and you motion for him to sit down on the edge of your bed.

“Yeah. Yeah, I feel okay.” You stare at him. It’s only been a few days, but Logan looks kind of awful– he’s got some serious dark under-eye bags going on, and stubble that is slowly turning into a beard, and there’s an apparent worry on his face that makes you just want to comfort him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Logan tries to ward off your answer with a stern, one word reply, but you’re not having it.

“Really? You don’t look so great.” You say, not without tact. “I hope you weren’t all cooped up in your room, worrying about me.”

Logan makes a sound that’s half way between a sigh, and a laugh at how close you always seem to get to the truth.

“Alright, yeah. Yeah, I was worried to hell about you. Is that what you wanted to hear?�� He jokes, but your face falls.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m good now, I don’t…” There’s an air of seriousness coming from you, that Logan doesn’t typically see, something you usually don’t let yourself do. 

“Are you good? Let me see your back, Angel–” Before Logan can even move you to the side, you turn in defiance, letting him see that you are healing. There are still parts of your flesh, red and angry, but for the most part it seems okay, already far better than it was a couple days ago.

Logan breathes a sigh of relief, touching your wings with a tenderness that has you leaning into his touch, and he gently skims over a scar of yours, glad to see that you’re genuinely not as hurt as he thought– but you pull away quite quickly.

“See? You don’t need to care so much, I’m fine.” You sound accidentally very accusatory, but Logan is just as much of a stubborn asshole as you are sometimes, and he narrows his eyes.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He stares at you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends care about each other. Jesus, you’re the one who always– you’re always checking up on me, sneaking into my room, touching my face and arms and– how else am I supposed to take that?”

It sounds romantic, Logan realizes, after he’s spit all that out– and it does sound like he’s putting the blame of your dynamic on you. And, even worse, it’s all just out there in the open.

“Really. I’m not the only one who cares, Logan, you…” You shake your head, and instead pull his flannel out from under the blanket. “You left this for me. Why do you make it sound like it’s all just me?”

“Okay, fine, it isn’t. Leave it alone, Angel.” Logan pleads a little, his face turning red.

“You’re always acting like I’m gorgeous, you constantly hug me and lean into me, there was that time you let me sleep on top of you–” You continue, feeling more and more confused. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you sound like an asshole.”

Logan blinks, feeling the argument dissipate, as it often does, whenever you get close to confronting each other about feelings– you always manage to fly away.

He won’t let you, not this time.

“You didn’t. I am an asshole– I’ve never bothered to tell you how I feel.” Logan mutters, and the way your face blanches in fear, shyness, tells him to keep going, to push the boundaries. “I let my own stupid ego get in the way of actually caring about you, and I’m not going to make that mistake again. I’ve always– I really love you, Angel. And I’m sorry I never made you feel like that was true, I’m sorry that it’s taken until you got hurt for it to be real.”

You have an incredulous look on your face, one Logan wishes he could take a picture of and frame somewhere, because it’s genuinely funny, but then your lip quivers, and he feels like an asshole again.

You feel like an idiot. You think, all this time, what’s bothered you is that you’ve been avoiding the fire– the real ones, sure, but more the things your mother fostered in you. Your trust issues, the way how you hold people dearly in your heart but you can’t let them get close because you worry you’ll never be enough, it’s all been burning for years inside you, and you’ve never had to confront it until Logan decided to stoke the flames.

“It’s always been real for me, too.” You whisper, trying not to cry. “I just… I don’t always believe if people care about me, I never feel good enough to be something for anyone. It’s not you, Logan, it’s my mom, my upbringing, really.”

You give him a short, brief explanation of what your mom did– something you’ll surely expand on later, when it’s not so fresh, when you haven’t been literally burned recently, and the memories pain you more than ever– and Logan’s face turns sharp, his brows furrow, he’s clearly deeply angry by whatever you’ve just told him. 

“I’m stupid. I just assumed– it was me putting too much pressure on you. You shouldn’t have been on this mission, that’s fucking awful.” He finally says, and then scowls. “I know you don’t want to hear it right now, but fuck that lady.”

You snort at that. “Yeah. Yeah, it was never you– I’ve always loved you too, Logan, more than you know. I’m sorry I’m always running from you.”

“Oh, so you’re consciously doing that?” He teases, trying not to react too much to your proclamation of love for him, although his brain feels as if it’s short-circuited. He squeezes your hand, and you laugh.

“Yup. I’m almost glad I got hurt, if it makes us more serious.” You comment, but Logan turns glum at that.

“Don’t say that, Angel. I still feel bad about it.” Logan holds your face, caressing your cheeks, staring into your eyes, glad now that you’re not going to shove him away. “Next time, I’ll try to take the hits. I’ll live.”

“You don’t have to–” Before you can start rejecting Logan’s offer, he leans in really close, almost kissing you but not quite, his breath hot on your own mouth.

“I want you to live.” He murmurs, and you feel yourself turn warm at that. 

When he presses his lips to yours, it’s almost chaste, because Logan still isn’t sure how many of your walls he can break down in one day– but for once you’re quick to act in the opposite direction now, lifting tubes out of your arm (irresponsible as hell, Logan would say later on) so you can better reach his face, and you run your fingers through his hair as you kiss him, again, and again. 

It’s soft, pliant, and warm, and Logan doesn’t quite know what to say when you come back up for air, breathing deeply, body sweaty from both recovery and how intense this is– he feels around you, around your waist as he leans in again, and you giggle, pulling away for just a moment before kissing him again.

His hands are gentle, skimming over your body without trying to hurt the burns on your back– but Logan feels you clamber onto him, onto his lap, and then he feels the soft feathers of your wings as they pull themselves outward, into the open.

He opens his eyes, and grins in a wolfish manner. Maybe you’ve been changed by what happened, maybe you aren’t the same, but you’re his Angel now, and he prefers that.

He kisses you again.