WHY HAVEN’T I UPLOADED THESE THEY’RE GOING TO PROM AND BE COOL CUCUMBERS AND HAVE A GOOD NIGHT OUT AND PETER’S BEING A HORRIBLE DJ AND KURT TRIES TO DRINK AND JUBILEE IS THE BEST DANCER EVER AND SCOTT’S GOING TO EMBERASS HIMSELF IM SO IN LOVE WITH THEM
one of the worst tumblr posts ive ever seen is still “haha what if the zombie apocalypse happened but it was an STD and the only survivors were all the asexuals” i repressed my memory of it but now it’s back and it’s Haunting me
what she means:
where was erik during Logan (2017, dir. James Mangold)? where was he when charles was deteriorating and losing his mind? did he ever go back to the mansion again between the events of x-men apocalypse and logan? where was he? was he dead by then? was he off having another little tantrum, unaware about the love of his life falling to pieces and eventually dying at the hands of X-24? did erik and charles ever get to say goodbye to one another? did charles watch erik die? what happened? where is Erik Lehnsherr in this trying time
Imagine - you’re Negan’s only wife and you’re pregnant with his child, after he returns home from Alexandria and seeing Judith for the first time, you see the real soft side to your husband.
Warnings - swearing, fluff, negan is a warning on his own tbh.
Negan hadn’t left your side, you were nearing the last few days of your pregnancy until your due date and you were more excited than you ever had been. Your relationship with Negan hadn’t always been perfect, he did like to sleep around at the beginning but he soon realised he’d never get another chance with you, so left his other wives to spend the rest of his days by your side.
After the kid from Alexandria had turned up, Negan gave Simon strict orders to sit in your shared bedroom until he returned, and that was 2 days ago, of course you were beginning to worry, being pregnant wasn’t exactly a walk in the park, especially during an apocalypse.
Simon had made sure you were kept in bed, Carson came in to check on you every couple of hours doing his best not to wake you from your sleep, you were too worried though, “Where is he, Simon? Our baby is due today, why isn’t he here?”
Negan’s right hand man was like the brother you never had, he cherished you with all his heart and would do anything to protect you. Simon looked up from his book before throwing it aside and sitting on the edge of the kings sized bed, “He’ll be here, he’d never miss this, you hear?” You nod slowly as he tucks a strand of your H/C hair behind your ear, caressing your cheek slightly to soothe your nerves.
A soft knock sounds on the door, “Come in,” you groan in annoyance, the door opens slightly and you see Negan’s smirking face appear in the gap, “Negan,” you breathe as he steps in, dismissing Simon as he takes his jacket off, “I thought you wouldn’t be back in time.”
Negan smiles down at you as he climbs onto the space next to your body, lying beside you, “Like I would miss the birth of our son,” he rubs tender circles into your large stomach, gazing down on you lovingly, “Rick has another kid you know, a little girl, Judith, seeing her made me realise how lucky I am to have you,” he pauses, looking into your eyes, “Fuck, I love you, Y/N.”
In a second you slap his chest, “No swearing around the baby,” you remind him sternly, he would give him credit, he had been trying to control his language to the best of his ability, but even if it did slip you would tell him off.
Negan rolls his eyes at your words, “Sorry, doll,” he kisses your lips softly, both of you moving in sync. Your husband pulls you in closer, and as soon as he does you feel wetness gush between your thighs, you freeze, “Baby? Are you okay?” Negan sits up, assessing your suddenly frantic frame.
“Get Carson, he’s coming.”
It had been 7 hours since your water broke and to say you were in agony was an understatement, Negan did his best, pulled your hair away from your face and used a cold rag to ease your temperature, not once did he let go of your hand whilst Carson checked on you, “Alright, Y/N, it’s time to start pushing,” he tells you with confidence, “On three, one, two, three,” you push hard, a cry of pain erupting from your lips.
Negan sits beside you, hating that he can’t ease your pain for you as you push that little life from your body, he looks at you, how beautiful you are even in that moment as you push your son into the world, he looks at Carson who smiles slightly, “One more should do it, Y/N,” Negan grabs your hand, whispering sweetly into your ear as you push for the final time before the room is filled with the cries of you child, “We’ve got a boy,” Carson tells the pair of you as he wraps him up in multiple blanket, handing him to you almost immediately.
“Baby, I’m so proud of you,” Negan tells you, stroking your sweat ridden hair from your face, “And you’re still gorgeous,” you giggle at his comment before connecting your lips harshly, “I’ll never let anyone touch you.”
6 months later
Negan looks at you from across the room, how you bounce your son, Noah, on your hip in front of the women who loved him more and more each passing day. Negan knew it hadn’t been easy for you to get back to normal, he knew you felt insecure so when anyone mentioned something about ‘baby weight’ or anything of the sort he would should them down instantly, if anyone went to touch you or your boy then he would push them away.
One night you all lay in your shared bedroom, Noah resting on your bare chest as you play with his lack of hair. Negan rolls onto his side, his hand rubbing the soft, pink skin of his little soldier who sleeps soundly on your chest, “I want another one,” he tells you with a twinkle in his eye.
You look at your husband, “So do I,” you tell him, “How about we start trying again soon? We all know that’s the best part,” you attempt and innuendo, he smirks at your comment but doesn’t remove his eyes from your child.
“You know what? I think this is the best part, nothing can beat this,” he leans over you, planting a soft, loving kiss on your forehead before pulling you and Noah into his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around the both of you.
“Scar’s are proof of where life’s failed us.” Warren Worthington iii x reader
Warren Worthington iii x reader
Prompt: “Scar’s are proof of where life’s failed us.”
Warren looked at his wings every morning, every afternoon, every night, and basically every time he passed a mirror.
And he couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseated at the sight of them.
Ever since his soft, feathery, white wings were taken from him he felt a pang in his heart when he saw the metal knives protruding from his back.
Part of him knew that it was his fault yet part of him wanted to believe it wasn’t. Apocalypse had caught him at a time where he hated his life, if Apocalypse had found him after he had met you it would have been a different story.
You had softened the parts of him that were angry at the world, although it had taken a lot. You made him feel better about his past, made him feel more human after years of feeling like a bird in a cage. You made him feel something more than a bottle of vodka and a shitty late night hook up with some stranger could ever. He was happy, for the most part, because of you.
Every time he finds himself looking in a mirror, hating what he saw, he remembers you. How much you love him and how he loves you.
He remembers the one time you had caught him looking and actually said something.
“Warren? Are you okay?”
He jerked his head away from the mirror, his wings clanging behind him as he did.
“I’m fine, darlin.” He had said, his shoulders rolling in as he did.
“No you’re not, what’s wrong?” You had walked over to him, reaching up to press your hands gently to the side of his face.
“Nothing, I swear it.” He said, his hands coming to rest on your cheeks.
“You’re lying, angel.” You had said, looking into his eyes and rubbing your thumb along the tattoos on his face “Please tell me.”
He had sighed, looking at his feet. “I miss my wings. My soft wings, not these cold metal things, but my pretty white ones.”
“Oh, baby.” You said, pulling him in for a hug “You’ll get them back, life finds a way for things to go well in the end.”
“But until I get them back, I’m stuck with a constant reminder of helping a monster try to destroy the world.” He grumbled, burying his face into your neck. “It’s like a really bad, obnoxious scar of when things all went wrong.”
“It’s just for now, angel.” You had whispered, running your fingers through his curls and holding him close. “Besides, scar’s are proof of where life’s failed us. Things are better now, and they’ll be better forever. You’ll never go back to being that person again.”
He pulled away, pressing a kiss to your forehead “What would I do without you?”
You had smiling, planting a kiss on his mouth “I dunno, you’d probably be fucking around somewhere dangerous with Peter or Scott.”
He laughed, pulling you in close, “Oh I still do that, I just do it when you’re fucking around with Jean.”
“You’re lucky I love you.” You had said, nuzzling into neck.
“Yeah I am.” He said, smiling widely “I love you with all my heart.”
As some of y'all know, I wrote a book! It’s called Stories From The End of the World and it’s a collection of short stories from ten different types of apocalypse.
Each story has a different character surviving a different world ending event!
Eleven year old Grace lives in a post-flood world where a cultish religious order insists that God drowned all the sinners, leaving the truly sinless to rule.
A twenty-something man toils with the struggles of immortality (things get less fun once everyone you’ve ever known or loved has been dead for centuries).
A woman deals with long-term space travel, the fact that she wasn’t born on earth and will not live to see the new world, and the stress those facts give to her relationship with her girlfriend (space lesbians!).
And of course, many more! I’m so excited about this book, guys, and would love for you all to check it out!! If you like dystopian stories, or sci-fi, or wlw…this is for you!
How could you hate yourself? You are the kindest and most gracious being to ever walk the earth. You are the light of my life. You are the most generous person to exist, Charles. Without you I would be nothing. Whoever made you feel this way must be destroyed. You are a delicate flower and you must be protected at all costs. How could you feel this way, my love?
Summary: Clarke sneaks a look at him. “Have you ever–” she starts, tilting her head in hesitation. His brows flicker together, amused, and he looks so handsome, moonlight clear on the line of his cheek and nose, that she plows forward, because she can, and because she wants to. “Have you ever thought about us? Hooking up, I mean.”
Bellamy lets out an incredulous bark of a laugh. “Of course,” he says, all surprise, no hesitation.
[ Context-free feel-good fuckin’. ]
The full moon turns the waves silver where they break against the beach. Their cups of moonshine are full, too, and strong. Monty and Jasper brewed a batch special for their trip, using buckets of blackberries they foraged from the woods outside Arkadia.
Clarke paces herself well. She so rarely takes a break, and she wants to remember it. Somewhere around the time her chest feels warm and the edges of her vision pleasantly fuzzy, until she finds herself in a circle of her friends, wedged between Monty and Bellamy.
When her cup is empty, Bellamy is ready with the bottle to refill it. “You deserve another,” he says with a wink, firelight flickering over his skin, and they share a silent toast. A flash from the past hits her–have some fun; you deserve it–and she pulls her cup away from her a little sloppy loose. Bellamy’s eyes flick to her mouth, then back. Something other than the moonshine curls hot and sweet in her belly.