Never Worry If Fandom Culture Is Alive, My 9 Year Old Brother And His Friends Are Discussing Their Favorite

I use the fuck out of those em dashes. This isn’t AI, this is me being illiterate and thinking it adds cunt juice to my writing!!

First time watching twd and OH MY GOD?? LORI DIED??? IM ABT TO CRY WATCHING CARLS LIL FACE AFTER HE PUTS HER DOWN 😭😭😭

Hayden has a lovely brain <3

So peak actually

This was the best part of daredevil I dont make the rules

Tw contemplating sh and suicidal thoughts

Haven’t wanted to kms in months but one reply to a silly reblog I made and all of a sudden it don’t seem too bad :( but my sister is here with me and she’s so little I wouldn’t want her to see that..

Anyways if anyone has ways to not cut yourself pls give me them

And you can listen to the renowned Ethel Cain album 'Preachers Daughter' at work. But watch out!

This looks peak ngl

i owe you a black eye and two kisses

frank castle x reader

warnings: fluff, a sprinkling of angst, will they won’t they finally becoming something real, a hint of suggestiveness throughout, canon typical injuries

authors note: my first fic on this blog !! i’ve seen a whopping two edits of frank with ethel cain’s crush, and obviously i had to do something about that. enjoy, and any feedback [likes, comments, reblogs] are always appreciated ! reader isn’t explicitly gendered in this

wc: 1023

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

i owe you a black eye and two kisses

tell me when you wanna come and get ‘em

it’s a warm night, the barest of breezes ruffling the curtains from your open apartment windows. frank would huff at that, jaw set in that pissy little way you like as he bitches about you being safe. you’d snort, swatting at him lazily as you remind him you’re on the sixth floor. his grumbled complaints would go ignored, your eyes rolling every time you catch a word here and there through the mumbling. but frank’s not here, hasn’t been around in two weeks, and you’ve left the windows open nearly every night in a silent act of protest.

he never tells you what he does but you’re not an idiot — the split knuckles and blood tinged treads of his boots make it clear enough, and you’re sure that if you ever got the opportunity to peek under his layered shirts and jackets, you’d see an array of scars, begging to tell you a story. the pair of you have been dancing around each other for months now, neighbors in the sense that frank sometimes sleeps in the apartment down the hall from yours. you’re not sure where he rests his head the rest of the time, but a few days a week you can usually find him there, fixing something.

your first meeting was funny in the odd way, trying to lug a heavy furniture box up to your apartment. the elevator hardly ever works, so you’d chosen to tough it out, sweat dotting your brow as you dragged it up the stairs. between one second and the next the weight has all been lifted from your hands, and he was resting it easily on one broad shoulder with only a quiet “gonna break your back like that. which door ?” he wouldn’t hear a word of thanks either, just set it down where you’d told him and disappeared down the hall to his own apartment. it had taken a lot of work — frank was like a half feral stray, all teeth when you tried to befriend him — but over time you could comfortably call him a friend, always willing to help you with whatever issues your run down apartment was having.

i only want him if he says it first to me

i wanna ugh him in the back of his mom’s mercury

the attraction was immediate, a white hot flame curling in your stomach just at the sight of him; strong jaw and stronger arms, features rough in the handsomest way, and the low rasp of his voice was enough to bring you to your knees the first time you heard it. the feelings came later, little pinpricks of affection at the hidden softness that lurked behind every harsh face he made. you’d caught him feeding the strays out in the alley more than once, big hands impossibly gentle when he pet them, and you never really stood a chance, not when he’d fixed the loose lock on the lobby door because you’d admitted it made you feel unsafe.

but you’re careful, wary like you’re treading through a minefield; you can’t tell him everything running through your head, not if you wanted to keep him. he was a runner, obvious in every little thing he did, and you couldn’t scare him off for fear you’d never forgive yourself. you let him come to you, set the pace as slow or as fast as he wants — you’d only tell him how bad you wanted him if he wanted you just as badly first.

he looks like he works with his hands and smells like marlboro reds

it makes me so ugh and i can’t get enough of it

you’ve been missing him though, a soft ache in your chest that only grows larger every day he’s gone. you’ve kept your fingers crossed that whatever business he’s tending to hasn’t killed home before you’ve gotten the chance to care for him the way you want to, and that he’ll stain your doorway with his bloody boots soon. it’s a little ridiculous, pining for a man you know next to nothing about, but there’s something in his eyes that tells you he’ll be worth it, even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

as if he could sense your thoughts, there’s an all too familiar knock on your door, and despite the late hour you can’t help the smile that spreads over your face. it feels like every step takes forever, moving in slow motion till you’ve unlocked the door and there he is, a fresh black eye and a cut above his brow. he still manages to look unfairly handsome, especially when he pins you with that half smirk, lips curled around your name.

“doorframe still stickin’ ? i gotta take a look at that in the morning,” he says in lieu of a greeting, eyeing the rusting hinges with the sort of intensity he does everything else. it’s almost endearing, and you raise your brows at him with a quiet laugh. “is that what you came over for ? i don’t see you for two weeks and it’s the door that draws you in ?”

his resounding laugh is quiet but genuine, leaning against the doorframe to take you in. “nah sweetheart, not the door. was wondering … i could fix that for you. and that window frame that keeps rattling. install some better blinds, for privacy.”

you cross your arms, mimicking the way he’s leaning against the doorframe; like this you can really admire him, one hand coming up to gently trace the scrape above his brow. “kind of sounds like you’re staying this time,” you hum, and the smile you get out of him shines brighter than anything you’ve ever seen.

“was considering it. you offering to keep me ?” he asks, a cheeky streak to his tone, and all you can do is laugh, tugging him down by the collar of his jacket.

blood and scrapes and split knuckles be damned, you were keeping him. for as long as he’d let you, frank castle was all yours. ⋆˚࿔

“But ur autistic that’s so fun and silly” bro I act permanently 5 years old whenever I’m mildly interested in something. Do you understand how damaging that was to young me? I’m physically incapable of masking, do you understand how dangerous that is? Do you understand how close I was to being institutionalized? Autistic people are still being demonized. I talk to little kids like I’m a little kid sometimes, do you know how many times that’s made me be called a pedophile? I’m 15 years old. I’m 15 and being treated like a 30 year old man who likes kids. I don’t like kids, (like that) I simply am a kid. I’m autistic, I’m not crying in the corner because I’m on drugs, I haven’t eaten in two days because I have no safe foods and I dropped 5 pounds and the music is too loud so I froze here in the back of a target.

Mine is my cat Soot. She’s tiny but a normal and healthy cat. She is very stupid. She has no self preservation skills and we call her the rat. She is very dumb. I love her