sorry i'll go to bed

Small Lilo comfort fic, because I felt like shit on Sunday and needed a pick-me-up. Tour era (whichever tour you like best).


Louis doesn’t open his eyes when the bed sheets he’s made himself a cocoon of are pulled away and someone awkwardly slips into his bunk, although he does uncurl his body, making more room for the intruder to squeeze themselves into. His head won’t stop pounding.

“Hey,” Liam whispers, gently stroking Louis’s temple and jaw - to think a couple years back he flinched anytime someone touched him; Louis would grin, if everything didn’t hurt. “Was wondering where you’d gone.”

“Headache,” is all Louis says. Liam’s clothes are crispy cold from his trek outside and Louis presses his face against Liam’s chest with a sigh; the coolness is wonderful against his forehead.

He grunts when Liam shifts away from him, wrapping an arm around his waist just in case Liam’s got delusions about leaving, but all Liam does is press his cold cold lips against Louis’s forehead, right in the middle of his eyebrows, and that feels even better than his sweater did.

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6

Escaping the Scrap Pile Part I [Part II]
Star Wars Rebels Magazine (UK) #19
Words: Martin Fisher
Art: Ingo Romling

Will I ever finish any serious art? Stay tuned!

anonymous asked:

I'm 100% with u on k@llura being shit (it is. It's so shit) but if you're white maybe you shouldn't be making posts that criticize the notallgalra shit specifically? Idk it's just my opinion tho

ig im a little confused by what you mean exactly n stuff? like the #notallgalra thing specifically (which. isn’t that drawn from #notallmen??) or smth else or????

I’m just going to imagine there was a scene when the family was gently taking Stan through his memories and helping him remember, and they get to the part where he stopped Bill.

And they explain how brave and daring he was, but none of them know exactly what happened in Stan’s mind, so they don’t know the conversation he had with Bill.

But Stan does, and he smiles when he starts to remember, that same resigned but happy smile right before the flames consumed him, and he repeats, without really considering it all,

“Heh. Guess I was good for something after all.”

Everyone pauses and looks at him, so very concerned, and Stan blinks, confused because he know that’s how it happened - at least, he thinks he knows.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, a six-fingered grip that’s slowly starting to become familiar once more, and it turns him towards a face that he recognizes as his own but the only name he can put to it is Ford.

Ford says, very carefully, like he’s holding something back a whole whirlwind of emotion, “Don’t. Say that, Stanley. Don’t ever THINK that. You didn’t need to sacrifice yourself to become good. You were already good, just the way you are.”

Mabel and Dipper nod emphatically, curling closer to him. Soos lays his head on Stan’s.

Stan frowns, puzzled. “But that’s how I remember it,” he insists, quietly.

Ford smiles at him, and it’s a sad smile, but with an edge of hope.

“Well, your memory’s a little wrong in some ways,” he tells Stan firmly, winding an arm around his shoulders, tugging him near because he’s not ready to relinquish what he so nearly lost, not even to his brother’s own inner demons. “But don’t worry. We’ll help you fix that. We are your family, after all.”

And Stan, while he’s not quite sure of anything at the moment, feels positive that that’s true.

grumpy human!cas in the morning face down in the comforter

“fuck you sam i love you but i will stay in this bed for two more hours”

sam tries to drag him out of bed for an early morning walk but cas only buries himself in the pillows even more

“my father did not make sleeping so comfortable just so humans like you could drag me away from it”

“sam if you do not stop giggling i will drag you down here with me now go be an absurd morning human and let me fucking sleep”  

Telepaths: 101

Okay, so here is part one of this new series (thank you to the person who submitted the original prompt to me) I know it’s short, but I’m exhausted and need to go to bed, so the next part will be longer, I promise :) 

>> i will also fix any mistakes tomorrow 

He couldn’t really do coffee shops or stores or crowds or anything that involved more than one person at a time. 

At least, not until now, when he’d finally grasped how to keep people out and only let a few people in

Mind reading was by far the worst talent Castiel ever could have asked for. As a child, he’d grown up listening to how his friends wanted to know what the other person was thinking, but he did know and it wasn’t always pleasant.

Example A: He knew when his parents were getting a divorce before he even understood what it meant. His mother and father fought all the time, but the real war happened silently in their heads. Except to him, of course - it was just as loud as their screaming matches. 

Example B: No one could really lie to him, so he always knew when the kids at school didn’t actually like him. That was never a fun experience to have. 

Example C: The guy that had asked him to prom his senior year in high school had only done it to see if he could get in his pants. He’d only agreed to go with his date so he wouldn’t have to go alone. 

Needless to say, Castiel did not like being a telepath. It wasn’t fun and for most of his life he hadn’t been able to control it. When he’d turned eighteen years old, he’d been accepted into several different universities, but the idea of college was overwhelming - all of those thoughts, distractions, and secrets? It was too much. 

However, that summer, he’d ended up meeting a young man who happened to have the same exact ability as him. They could read each other’s minds and speak to one another silently. That summer, Castiel learned how to let people in and shut others out. Now, he no longer had to hear secrets, and could eavesdrop in the most invasive way possible if he felt the urge. 

Which he never did. 

He wasn’t a rude telepath after all. 

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Hunter’s Moon Mate

Again, this is for Sterek Week, but I’m kind of late in posting this, so shhhh just pretend it’s still the right day. Also this title is awful and I’m sorry. It’s 1:30am and I am tired. That’s my excuse. Enjoy.

It’s dark save for the light of the full moon, and there’s a sharp chill in the air that makes it a little hard to breathe the faster Stiles runs. He doesn’t stop though, even though there’s a burning in his chest and legs. The wolf howl that echoes in the trees behind him only serves as motivation for him to keep running, ignoring the soreness of his calves, the stings of branches and leaves that hit and scratch him as he passes by.

He asked for this; heck, he wanted to do this, and there was no way he was giving up now.

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