This Fucked Me Up - Tumblr Posts

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"Have you ever thought of marriage?" Haku asks bluntly.

You blink, taken aback by the suddenness of his words.

"What kind of question is that?" you huff out a laughter, wiping your dusty kitchen's counter to keep your hands occupied, otherwise he'd see the way you'd clench your fingers.

However, you still touch your bare ring finger with your thumb.

You see Haku shrug from the corner of your eyes. "Just something I thought of asking."

You hum, slowly dragging your trusty old rag over a spot that was already free of stains and dust, in order to keep your eyes fixed anywhere but him. You think something you're not ready for might happen if you look into his eyes.

"Do you want the simple answer or the honest answer?"

"Is there a difference between them?"

You nod.

"The honest answer, then."

You clear your throat. You turn your back towards him and rummage through your cabinets, looking for nothing at all. A tightness in your throat is the warning sign of a dam you wish not to break.

"I used not to care about it. Didn't feel like it mattered." you murmur, not very confident in the stability of your voice.

"But...?"

"But after the curse, I... Things were put into perspective. I started thinking about mundane things, like marriage. Since I might... since I might not be able to get married, I began thinking about it. What would it be like."

You bite your bottom lip hard, willing the tears that threatened to pool in your eyes to go away.

Haku chuckles and it sounds bitter. Tired.

"We do love to think about things we can't have, don't we?"

You will yourself to turn around to see what kind of expression he was making, but you quicky wish you didn't.

You see longing, desire and despair swirling on his amber eyes like his love is water and he's oil. Meanwhile, you're a third, rotten element that needs to be contained, far far away from him. Because you do. And soon enough, you might have to.

You stand before him. The kitchen counter that stands between you two could very well be an endless ocean, and the distance would feel the same.

"Interesting how we only wish to be normal when we lose all normalcy, huh?" he asks, a crooked smile upon his face as he rests his head on one of his hands.

You wonder how long he has felt like this. Did it begin to feel worse after he met you? Does he think of you in white and in flowers just like you think of him standing on an altar when you can't sleep at night?

You place the palm of your hand on the counter, closer to him, yet afraid to touch. You can't touch. You can't taste happiness only to have it pried from your hands afterward.

"I wish I could be normal with you." you blurt out, but the embarrassment doesn't come. You know these words just cut a deeper wound inside the both of you.

His breath hitches, and he looks down at your hand, swallowing hard.

Haku runs his index finger over your ring finger, painfully gentle with the ghost of a touch. And he whispers, more to himself than to you.

"So do I."

Here’s a thought. Hunter bad batch (that is his full name, yes) has enhanced senses. We assume that means hearing, smell, taste, touch- maybe sight, but that’s more of a Crosshair thing.

BUT we know for sure it includes the ability to feel electromagnetic frequencies. Okay. Hear me out.

EMF reader.

What does EMF stand for? Electromagnetic fields. As far I as I know, these are not the same as electromagnetic frequencies. tomato tomahto

What’s an EMF used for? Detecting ghosts. In ghost hunting shows and games.

Are you picking up what I’m laying down??

I’m thinking: Hunter is a walking ghost detector.

I could be totally wrong. But it’s nice to dream

……Help 

I’m going to cry for 30 years

i am willing to bet one hundred million thousand dollars that after curt shot owen, he stared at the body for a long fucking time. he dropped his gun and fell to his knees and just stared at the body of the man he loves more than anyone else, the man who's first death stopped curt's entire world. who curt's regretted killing for four, long years. i bet he started sobbing, after it truly hit, after he noticed some of owen's blood and brain matter had splattered onto his pristine blue shirt. he probably fucking wailed, kneeled over owen's cooling body like a fanatic at a destroyed gods altar, shaking him, desperate to wake him up, desperate to take it back. maybe he thought about shooting himself, right then and there. maybe he pressed the cool barrel of the gun he used to kill owen against his forehead and wonder if he should pull the trigger. in the end, he would be too much of a coward. instead, he would soak owen's shirt with tears, run his fingers through his hair, and just beg him to wake up. beg owen to come back to him. and when the effort would prove futile, eventually he would lie down beside him and stare into his glassy eyes, too drained to keep crying, to drained to do anything at all, but still unable to look away from the horror of it.

in the dim morning light, he would scoop the body up in his arms and quietly take him outside. dig a shallow grave with his bare hands until they were bleeding, and gently place owen face up in the ground. kiss him on his cool forehead and whisper a fervent prayer for him to forgive him, someday. wish that they both belonged to another world where they could've been together. and then he would shove the dirt over owen's pale flesh, watch his face disappear under the earth, and curl up on top of the grave to sleep.

can you do something cute & sweet involving Calum? thanks :)

idk when i think cute and sweet i automatically go to pregnancy/daddy!calum because he would literally be so adorable so my apologies if this isn’t what you were looking for!

“Whoa,” you look up from your magazine when you hear Calum, tilting your head back to look up at him where he’s standing behind the couch.

“What?” your brow furrows, watching his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, his eyes still cloudy with sleep as he holds his first three cups of coffee.

“You,” he slowly rounds the couch, licking his bottom lip, “I mean, your- that’s a baby.”

You chuckle, looking down at your stomach, the baby that’s been growing inside you for months finally deciding to make an appearance in the form of a bump between your hips, “uh, yeah,” you smile up at him as you smooth a hand over the bump, “where have you been?”

He shakes his head, staring at your belly in awe as he sits on the edge of the couch, setting his mug down on the coffee table, “that wasn’t there yesterday,” he says, finally looking up at you, cocking his head to the side like a puppy, “was it?”

You don’t respond as he pushes up his shirt you’re wearing, his breath leaving in a huff when he gets his first real look at your belly, “you know it’s only going to get bigger,” you murmur, suddenly self conscious- you can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s making your insecurities rise.

He presses one large hand to your skin right where it’s curved the most and his lips part on a breath, his eyes finding yours, “that’s our baby,” he murmurs, and the awe in his voice makes your heart lurch in your chest and all your insecurities disappear, the crazy hormones coursing through you making tears spring to your eyes.

“Yeah,” you manage to gather enough oxygen for the single word, but it’s leaving your lungs a second later when his lips break into a grin before he’s leaning forward to capture your lips in a deep, slow kiss, his hand gentle against your stomach.

It doesn’t take him long to forget his coffee and instead settle on his stomach between your legs, laying his head on your thigh as he gazes at your baby bump, the rough pads of his fingertips tracing circles on your skin as he has a quiet, one sided conversation with your baby. He falls asleep like that, hand on your belly, promises of love and happiness on his lips and you just watch him, your fingers running through his hair as you ask yourself for probably the millionth time since you’ve been together how you got so lucky.

ok like. when you reblog a “men are trash” post by a terf shes literally talking about both trans women AND cis men. there is no distinction for the terf, don’t promote or give terfs a platform period.

i love how Damen consequently uses the words “making love” to describe what they shared (i. e. ‘you knew who i was the night we made love’) and Laurent, over and over again, calls it “fucking” - to be dismissive, hurtful, to distance himself, and to erease the emotional aspect of it, that it meant something to him, as well as Damen (’if you knew, how could you–’ ‘let you fuck me?’ // ‘let’s fuck’ // ‘you want to fuck me’), but the moment his walls crumble, the moment he lets himself have it, Laurent says, ‘when you make love to me like that, i can’t think’