sometimes a story is about gay sex because there is no gay sex. sometimes a story revolves around the gay sex that is not happening
knew exactly what show this was before even seeing the tag
Great candles for anyone named Patrick or Emily!
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800 years ago at All Saints Church in Hereford, England, a skillful carpenter carved this gentleman high up in the dark roof where nobody could see him. Five years ago they built an extra floor with bright lights for a restaurant.
Nest | Part 9
Eddie, for all his talk the night before, kept his hands to himself. There were risks to pushing his luck, they didn’t have to let Steve stay. They could have just delivered his food to him and left him to manage on his own like some kind of prison.
He was technically one more snap away from being institutionalised as a violent omega.
He’d managed for the majority of his life though, as long as they could provide him with something an alpha had scented, he’d probably be OK, they didn’t have to let Steve keep tending to him.
Pushing his luck, no matter how much he’d push and push authority figures outside of the clinic, wouldn’t help him there.
It’d only lose him Steve. He couldn’t lose Steve now that he had him, so he’d behaved. Teased a little, let his scent thicken like honey to tempt like an idiot, but he’d behaved other than that.
He’d flopped down into his nest, semi-expecting Steve to try and bundle him up into his arms which would be a big nope, no matter how nice those arms were, he ran hot and he hated sweating in his sleep because his hair would stick to him so he was not a little spoon, but when Steve looked at him with hesitation he’d opened his arms instead, he’d hoped for the best case scenario, and—
Steve had brightened up.
Like a golden retriever that’d just been told it was going to the dog park, not the vet. If he’d had a tail it’d probably have been wagging.
He’d dropped to his knees and crawled his way into Eddie’s arms, rested his head there on Eddie's bare chest and was out in minutes, allowing Eddie to bask in his warmth, his scent, his weight so comfortably rested across his body. Grounding him, weighing him down with a delightful pressure that eased so many of his building aches.
Not completely ache free, but enough to find himself drifting with his hands carding through those luscious once thought to be untouchable locks. He was out shortly after, more comfortable and feeling luckier than he’d ever been in his life.
feeling normal about this also
I was trying to see it in the arrangement of stars and galaxies, but it's just. A fucking. It's a fucking. Question mark. Floating in space. Not a constellation, just a floating goddamn question mark. I want to scream.
so i was thinking about
ALTpost cancelled i got this notification as i was typing this and i think it’s trying to tell me something
