#Tommy’s id packs

[tommys-kin-hell]

Hi! Can I request an ID Pack (names, Pronouns, titles) for Yuji Itadori (jjk)?

-🌺

ID PACK:

Names:

Yosuke

Naoki

Kaito

Yoyko

Chiho

Pronouns:

Fri/friend/friendself

Justice/Justices/Justiceself

Che/Cher/Cherished

si/sil/silly

shi/shine/shines

Titles:

The Selfless Student

The Faithful Sorcerer

[Prn] who protects

The Vessel

[Prn] who cares for all

Thank you!!! Sorry for the wait!!! I’m back now!!!

[atimeofyourlife]

Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.

Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.

Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.

But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.

It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.

When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.

And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.

A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.

A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.

Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.

He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.

After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.

The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.

After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.

It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.

Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.

When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.

He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.

Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.

It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.

(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)

¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time. ²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)

This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.

[cumikering]

Neighbour Ghost x reader 8 (end)

1.6k | fluff The stray and his forever home (part 1)

“Bone apple tea.” You placed the cup of camomile in front of Simon.

“What?”

You pointed at your skull-printed shirt, the apple pie patch on his hoodie and the tea on the table. “Bone. Apple. Tea.”

He’d missed that brilliant smile too much. It was impossible to not want to kiss you. He chuckled as he pulled you to stand between his thighs.

That Sunday with your help, despite the pounding of his head, he packed the rest of his stuff and managed to move out. In the last few days he had before he left, he spent any possible moment with you, mainly eating his favourite Chinese takeout or cuddling on the couch.

Two months later when Simon came back, things crawled to how they were, with him visiting for dinner and leaving before midnight. Eventually, he stayed more and more nights a week, leaving more than a few of his shirts behind.

The divorce was finalised and his childhood home was sold. The city of Manchester didn’t mean gripping the straps of his backpack after school as he walked up the dreaded front steps anymore, nor sleeping restlessly lest someone barged in the door with another bizarre creature. The house was gone, along with the memories that breathed within the walls. He didn’t miss them.

His mum got a flat near Tommy’s and a job at a flower shop in the neighbourhood. ‘Not as nice as working with Ben’, she said. She had to buy her own bread, and none she’d found in the area tasted remotely close to how grand his were. She still cooked too much, but Tommy didn’t mind the extra whenever she dropped by. Little Joe always loved seeing his nana anyway.

Back from his next deployment, Simon held you at the door as he inhaled the warmth he’d missed terribly. After his shower, you showed him his shirts in their own drawer, not jammed between yours anymore. He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

In spring, he came with to visit your dad, insisting on wearing one of his dress shirts, even when you assured it was a regular lunch. He stood rigid on the porch, the neck of the wine bottle about to snap in his grip.

Your dad was taking too long. Was he arming himself before opening the door? Should he tackle and disarm him or take the shot like a man? He should have worn a tac vest.

“Si, relax.” You rubbed his back. “You’re already too tall. You’re going to scare my dad.”

Is that not a good thing?

Your dad (obviously unarmed) tried making small talk with him at lunch, but he sucked at it as much as Simon did, leaving you to do almost all the talking among the pauses. You only received short answers from the men who avoided each other’s gazes.

Also, who the bloody hell put the coriander in the chicken stir-fry?!

“Your dad hates me,” Simon declared as he drove home, the phantom taste of soap persisted on his palate despite the hours between.

“He doesn’t, I promise. He doesn’t even really like Chinese, but picked the place because I told him how much you love it. He really tried, but just doesn’t talk much with new people.” You stifled a laugh. “You should have cracked a few jokes.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “When we get home, I’m going to tickle you until you pass out.”

Home.

You’d made your flat Simon’s home too. You cleared another drawer for him, and another, and another, even when he didn’t have so many possessions. But you let him expand and take up the space he needed. He reordered a set of his ID discs for you to keep on your nightstand.

Things were… easy. Simple, like getting out of bed a little later on weekends. With his nose buried in your hair, arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest, he held you in silence from dawn until you woke. Listening to your quiet breathing filled his chest heavy with warmth.

You’d asked multiple times if it bored him to be doing nothing, as if he didn’t lay prone behind rifle scopes for hours on end for a living. It didn’t, because being in your presence wasn’t nothing. You were real, and you were his.

You woke with a stir, a smile gracing your lips when you realised he was with you before your eyes opened.

“Good morning, my love.” He slipped the strap of your tank top off before peppering kisses on the nape of your neck down your exposed shoulder.

“Morning, Si.” You reached back to scratch his scalp.

He rolled you onto your back before crawling on top of you, kissing the column on your neck making you giggle with his weekend scruff. He pulled away to admire your eyes, always striking in the warm sun.

“Love looking at you.” You cupped his cheek, tracing the healed cut with your thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Si.”

He leaned in, and you stayed in bed a little longer.

In his shirt, you placed more toasts on the table.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…”

He handed you a buttered toast. “Don’t steal my jokes, luv.”

“It’s too lame to forget.”

“Yeah? ‘Cause I remember you howling at Tesco when I told it.”

“It was your first ever.” You smiled. “My favourite.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was scary, luv?”

“I’m not sure they teach you to tell the scary bloke he’s scary in self-defence class.” You took a bite of the toast.

“Fair enough.” He shrugged. “Are you out of jam?”

“Forgot to grab some yesterday, but I didn’t forget your limes.”

Simon became a bit of a pie connoisseur. He figured baking was better than sparring with the intention of beating someone up to a pulp. He tried different fruits (even declared himself a pro at peeling) and techniques, and eventually other varieties. That late Saturday morning, it was key lime pie.

“Why’s the cat so small?” you asked as you tied your kitty apron around his waist.

“Why?”

“Because it drank condensed milk.”

He liked that you were becoming more like him. “You too, it seems.”

You mock gasped. “Rude! You know I can take you, Si.”

“Not in a fight.”

You slapped his chest playfully earning a hearty laugh from him.

Volunteering at the soup kitchen became a regular occurrence too, along with his sergeants. Sam ended up dating one of the volunteers’ daughters, the one he was introduced to. Unfortunately, his two other sergeants hadn’t had as much luck on their side. ‘Does your birdie have sisters or friends, sir?’ Eric joked, but it barely masked his hopefulness. You assured you’d ask around if they promised to keep each other safe while deployed.

It got hard at times, when things went sideways and the missions lasted longer, or when he had no way to contact you or wipe the tears off your face.

Somewhere along the way, Simon listed you as his emergency contact. You weren’t supposed to find out this way. Not this soon, not from his captain calling you about how he was unconscious, dying from blood loss from getting his leg slashed.

The first thing he did when he astonishingly woke was to call you. He could ignore the sear on his thigh, or the fact that his eyelids weighed like lead, but not the guilt that sank into the pits of him when you were in a mess of tears.

“I’m so sorry, luv,” he croaked out of his throat that felt like sandpaper. “I mean it. I’ll leave this all behind if that’s what it takes to keep you. You just have to say the word.”

“Si, you don’t... always have to bend yourself backwards for others. I chose you for who you are, and I will keep choosing you, as long as you don’t give up on this. On us.” You sniffled. “Please come home soon. I need you with me.”

Simon was glad you stood by his decision to stay, because that afternoon a year after, as the major pinned on the new insignia onto his uniform, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face when the mass erupted in applause.

Captain Simon Riley.

Among the crowd, next to Tommy and Beth, her belly carrying his niece, you had your arm around his mum, Joe’s hand in yours. From across the room, your sincere eyes made him feel like a hero, the most desirable man. He knew he wasn’t, but you looked at him like he was sunshine, and maybe, he was to you a little bit.

Nothing changed. Simon was still fatherless, still missed out on the memories a child deserved to have, but was never granted. Still bound to a past that wouldn’t go, but he was more than that.

He thought his dad was the only thing standing in the way of happiness, whatever it meant. He knew now. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted, wasn’t what he imagined, but it was perfect. This was what it was supposed to be like all along.

“For you,” he mouthed.

Simon Riley never wanted to be an oil painting admired by many, but he was, and always had been, a love note sealed with a kiss.

Line art from part 4

Masterlist

Thank you so much for sticking around until the end :) I greatly appreciate the support and kind words this little story has received. Take care!

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @eve-lie

@luvecarson @jaguarthecat @knight4xmas @unwrittenletter

@cmbghost @mxtokko @reaperxxxxzz @footyandformula

@opalesquegirl @audisive @sparrowgalaxy @fanficreblogs

@strawberrystargal @damalseer @onlineoutcast @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

@astraluminaaa @mehjustalasshere @corruptowlette @youllgetafuneral

@lyenera @kcmizzz @s-rinaldi-18

[razrbladekiss]

LOVE BITES | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: its been two years since joel broke your heart, and now you’re thrust into the most awkward situation imaginable. no thanks to tommy, of course.

PAIRING: no outbreak!joel x afab!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.9k, literally pulled this outta my ass in an hour.

WARNINGS: angst. joel is a bit of a jerk and so is tommy but reader can hold her own. 🤭 tiny bit of fluff. plenty of dialogue to scratch the itch inside of my little pea brain!

“What can I getcha?” You call over the music, leaning against tacky wood as you greet yet another inebriated middle aged man. Your tits shine beneath dim light—highlighted with perspiration, liquor and the purple glitter that Cassie thinks’ll get you more tips—and you smile. “Bud Light?”

“Please, doll.”

Your eyes roll. The pet names are one of the worst parts about working at Fuel, but you suppose it’ll never subside. It’s sleazy, here. The place teems with parasitic men—old, sweaty metalheads that’ll never touch a bar of soap even if you bribe them—but they pay your bills with the gratuity they slip into your pocket, so you find it in yourself to tolerate it.

Plus, every so often an attractive stranger comes in and fills your evening with something more interesting than a story that usually starts with “were you even born when this song came out?”

It’s not clear why you’re targeted behind the bar—you’re not the youngest and certainly not the chirpiest—but you surmise that these figments of the male species must have some sort of affinity for being bitched at. Because as soon as someone says something even slightly misogynistic, you’re coming down on them like a wall of fucking bricks.

You’re outspoken. Kind of brash. But it makes for great conversation with some hot guys every so often.

Fuck this shit.

Feigning that internal indignation—and yearning for some kind of drama—you resume your work.

“There ‘ya go, Gil.” You pop off the cap, handing him the bottle and offer a smile. He takes it with a nod, bumbling away from the bar and you turn away to dry some glasses.

It’s busy, but not Saturday night busy. It’s wall-to-wall, but it doesn’t seem as tightly-packed as usual. You’re not rushed off your feet, you’re not being overrun with strange and usual orders from men whose eyes are needing to be held open with toothpicks, or the odd underage girl that managed to slip past Dean while he was checking ID’s.

Something is off.

And it isn’t for the fact that the same three Motörhead songs are playing on a fucking loop, either. Something is looming.

Something a little bit more tense.

“Hey.” Cassie tips her head in a nod toward the crowd while pulling the beer tap. “Look who just walked in.”

You squint your eyes. It’s a struggle to heed any new faces, for the light is so dim and room full of cigarette smoke, but you scan nonetheless.

“I can’t see.” You tell her, taking a few glasses from atop the bar to wash. “Is it that hot guy you always flirt with?”

Her cheeks turn thirteen shades of crimson. She shakes her head.

“No. He’s in Cancun with his wife.”

“Oh.” You say wryly. “So, he’s not interested in you then?”

She blinks in your direction. “We had sex on Thursday.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “Oh.” You repeat your earlier tone. “So, you’re his side piece?”

“Yes. And happily so.” Cassie slips the beer to her patron, and turns to you with an elbow propped against the sticky wood. “But enough about Luke…Can’t you see him? He’s got the denim jacket on—hair a little slicked back.”

Confused, your gaze drifts into the sea of drunks. You’re drawing a blank.

“Oh my GOD.” She grabs a hold of your shoulders, and turns you toward nine o’clock. “Look!”

You follow her line of sight, still blindly searching. Until he comes toward the bar, and you go through all seven stages of fucking grief as he ambles toward you.

He’s got a face like thunder. Eyes dark, nostrils flared.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed.” The unyielding grip set against your shoulders is released, though Cassie stays close by. For back-up—and slightly inquisitive—purposes.

Tommy. Fucking. Miller.

You haven’t seen him since the night that Joel broke your heart, and you’d be a fool to surmise that the underlying hostility has died off in the two years that your eyes last met. He was a prick to you, that night.

But you’re not scared of him. Never have been. He’s a pussycat.

Aside from that night, the most confrontation between the two of you came on a very warm summers evening, when Tommy was barbecuing and you told him that his burgers needed a little longer when he tried serving them. He pitched a fit, threw the spatula in the air, and left Joel to take over.

He never could take criticism.

“Get out.” You tell him, hand firmly gripped against the Guinness tap. “I mean it, Miller. Get out.”

He ignores you, taking a seat at the bar and your jaw rolls.

“Fine.” You fake a smile, wanting nothing more than to throw a whiskey sour in his face. “What d’ya want, Tommy? Jack ‘n coke? Bud? A slap—“

“I dunno. But now that I’ve seen you, I want you to call my brother.”

Cassie takes a step back when you nudge her, needing to go through this alone.

“Phone works both ways.” Blunt, you say. You pour him whiskey—neat—despite him not elucidating exactly what he wants. “He’s a jackass, Tommy. I ain’t got time for jackasses no more.”

He rubs his lips together after taking a pull, putting firmly the glass against the bar.

“You left him—“

“Wrong. He broke up with me.”

“You left him.” Tommy repeats himself. He’s getting agitated, now. “He didn’t really want you to go. He didn’t mean to say all that he said—“

You scoff, throwing a dish rag over your shoulder.

“Well, he said it. He kicked me out.” You start, ready to reel off all the bad things Joel did to you. “He blocked my number, told everyone that I left ‘cus I was never happy with anything—“

“He loved you, and you were just a spiteful bitch.” Tommy defends, slightly more brash than what he once was.

“Wow. You’ve grown a pair of balls since I last saw you.”

“Oh, fuck it off with the mean shit.” He growls, staring pointedly at you. “You’re not like this, so stop pretending.”

You put a few glasses away beneath the bar, and stick clean scoops into the ice cube tray.

“I was crazy about him, he didn’t need to give me anything more than what he already did, Tommy.” With a small voice, you tell him. “We all know that.”

Tommy runs a hand over the back of his neck. But you’re not willing to argue the case any further—not with a man who downs his liquor in one single shot.

“So, is this why you’re here, huh? To spend the entire night chewin’ me out? ‘Cus if you are, then you can fuck off. I get enough shit from the assholes that come here every night.”

He shakes his head. “Wasn’t on my agenda. Didn’t know that ‘ya worked here, so I guess its been a lovely experience for the two ‘a us, ‘ay?”

Your eyes roll. You pop the cap off another beer for Gil as he stumbles toward you, handing it to him while taking his cash at the same time.

“And why are you here? ‘Cus I didn’t peg you down to be the heavy metal type. That was always reserved for—“

Your face falls. This time, your heart actually starts to pound within the constraints of its ribcage, and you feel nauseous. You’re lucky that no glass is held tightly beneath deft fingertips, or else you’d be having to sweep the shards of it off of the floor.

“Joel.” You murmur as he pads over to Tommy.

He leans against the bar, looking at his brother. He mumbles something about this place being a dive, how loud it is, and that he needs to be getting back ‘cus Sarah’ll be gettin’ worried if I’m not home before midnight.

You’re blinking at him, but he doesn’t notice you’re standing right there. Not until he pins a cigarette between his lips and fishes about his pocket for a light, but comes up empty.

Joel turns around, patting his shirt and jeans pockets, before his eyes flick upward and mouth gapes open. The cigarette is stuck to his bottom lip by the slick of his saliva, and a sheer stroke of luck.

He yanks the stick from his mouth, before he’s pointing at Tommy with it.

It’s almost comical that Love Bites is playing from the jukebox. Though, it makes a fucking change from Whiskey In The Jar.

“This why you fuckin’ brought me here?!” He barks, and you’re glad that it’s so loud in there or else he’d be causing a scene.

Tommy holds his hands up in defense. “I didn’t know she worked here!”

“He didn’t.” You cut in, earning a glare from the man whose heart once lived in your pocket. “What? Do you really think he’d put you—us—in this position willingly?”

Joel looks between the two of you, easing the accusatory gesture. He slips the cigarette between his lips again, and you—begrudgingly—hurl a lighter toward him.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. He just takes it and sparks the cigarette, cupping the cherry as the light takes.

“You’re welcome.” You snark. Joel slides it over to you without even so much as looking upward. “You’re used to that, ain’t ‘ya? Taking things from me when you’ve got no business to?”

He says your name warning, finally meeting your gaze. His eyes are dark. A lot more dismal, than usual. Saddened, maybe.

And his face is gaunt. Still as handsome as ever, but complexion slightly sallow. Though, you just put that down to the fact that winter doesn’t offer too much sun for him to tan, in Jackson.

“I didn’t do shit to you.” Joel upholds, flicking cigarette ash into the ceramic dish atop the bar. You tense up at his tone. “You wanted more than what I could’ve given you, so we both knew it wasn’t gonna work—“

“I loved you, Joel!” You bark across the bar, leaning over a little. He drops a glance to your tits—exposed and glittering—and swallows thickly the lump in the back of his throat. “I wanted to be with you—get married, start a family—was that such a bad fuckin’ thing?!”

“Y’knew I didn’t want that.”

You blink back the tears that are desperate to push over your waterline, and nod. “But if you communicated that to me earlier on in the relationship, then maybe I would’ve shunned those ideas.”

Tommy looks between the two of you, hating the prickly tension. Because—two and a half years ago—you two were the strongest couple he ever knew. Regardless of the age gap, you were obsessed with one another.

But now you’re strangers, standing at opposite sides of the bar.

“Take a break, hon.” Cassie tells you from a distance and you’re peeling off the waist apron faster than you can even acknowledge what she’s saying.

Marlboro reds are being yanked from the ass pocket of your jeans, and the lighter that you had let Joel borrow is snared firmly within the palm of your left hand.

You storm to the front of the bar—ignoring the friendly crowd of regulars, friends, and new-faces—all the while devoured by this overwrought tension that’s bubbling up from the deepest caverns inside of you.

Joel follows you, reaching for your wrist but you shirk the feeling because it’s turning you sick. Just the sheer feeling of his skin—calloused and rough—ghosting over yours is enough to churn your stomach and force those ill feelings to flood back into your system.

You step outside, the din of much-to-loud music now muffled by the steel doors—only clear when someone walks in or out of the bar—and let your back hit against the brick wall with a dramatic thud.

“Sorry.” Joel says, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“For what, exactly? Dumping me? Making me look like the bad guy, just ‘cus I wanted something?”

He runs a hand over his face, before he’s shifting forward to let a drunken—completely in love—couple pass by the two of you. He joins you up against the wall, his right boot colliding with it.

“I didn’t make you look like the bad guy—“

“Bullshit.” You say. “I see Sarah about town sometimes—she doesn’t even acknowledge me anymore, Joel. I spent five years of my life playing mommy to that little girl, and now I’m like a stranger to her?”

He hates how you’re throwing this back into his face, but he supposes that he deserves it. However, he will not give in to you that easy.

“You never played mommy. She always called you by your first name.” Like he knows it’ll hurt you, he says. “You were just a glorified babysitter, to her—“

“Oh, get fucked!” You bark, teeth clamped together. “You can’t say this shit when you don’t mean it, Joel! You know that she loved me!”

Your words materialize into the saddest tone he’s ever heard from you, and he’s suddenly feeling awful for even musing such a thing. He’s never this mean.

“Fuck—I’m sorry. You’re right, that was an awful thing to say.” Regret depletes him. But it’s too late. Tears are flowing from your beautiful eyes, like a dam that’s burst its way over the river banks, and Joel hates himself for doing this to you. Again.

When he broke things off—and ruined your life—he thought it would be easier to build a wall around himself, and lie to people about the nature of your departure. He told everybody that you left on your own terms, that you wanted things that Joel could never give to you—though, if he had just kept an open mind, then maybe he could’ve.

Because for months after you left his home, he found himself glued to his cellphone, desperate to call or text you to tell you how sorry he was for doing what he did.

That he was too hasty—too fucking mean—to say that he didn’t want a life with you. Because he did.

But it’s too late.

“Piper missed you, Joel.” You wipe away fat tears with the palm of your hand—knowing your mascara has smudged but not being able to find it in yourself to care—and tell him about the dog that the two of you once cared for together. “She sat by the door every morning waiting for you.”

This is killing him. Having you in front of him, but knowing that things will never be the same again.

“She’s four, now.” You smile a little bit. “She didn’t grow any bigger than what a German Shepherd should’ve, but she acts like it. Thinks she’s a fuckin’ rhino, or somethin’.”

Joel chuckles, feeling his own sadness loom in his tear ducts.

“She loves babies.” That maims you, a bit. “Cassie’s sister had a little boy in February. Piper sits by the crib whenever we visit. She would’ve loved being a sister.”

“I bet. She was always such a protective dog.” He stubs out his cigarette, though makes no effort to go back inside. “Especially when it came to you.”

“I’m her mom.” You tell him, blankly. “I feed her. I take her on walks. I groom her. I’m the only person that’s remained a constant in her life since she was eight-weeks old—“

“And I’m sorry for that.” A little stern—not enjoying being discreetly chastised—he says. “But we were never going to work—“

“And you thought that you’d tell me that after five fucking years?” You flick your own roach to the ground now, letting your back peel away from the wall. “Joel, I wasted half a decade with a man who couldn’t see us going anywhere, and you just expected me to be fine with that?”

“You didn’t waste your fucking time with me.”

“I could’ve had a family, by now!” You yell, your cheeks damp once again. Eyes stinging. “Joel, I could be somebody’s mother. Somebody’s wife.”

He feels awful that he’s taken that from you, but surmises that it isn’t too late.

“I know that you did it all before you met me—I know that was something that I was signing up for when I started dating an older man,” you take a breath, “but I thought that you might’ve changed your mind. Because I thought that you loved me—“

Joel grabs firmly your hands and shakes them, getting you to look at him. His eyes plead with yours.

“I did love you.” He breathes deep. “I think there’s a part of me that still loves you. But I couldn’t give you what it was that you wanted—“

You yanked your hands from his grip—for the second time this evening, actually.

“Couldn’t, or wouldn’t, Joel? Because to me, it seems like you were scared of committing to me for fear of something bad happening.”

“Don’t—“

“Not everyone leaves, Joel.” Softly, you tell him. “I was never planning on walking outta your life, so I don’t know why you were so scared to commit to me.”

Because I’m fucking insecure?

You look down at your watch, realizing that you’ve been out here far, far too long.

“Look.” You make eye contact with him. You miss the way he so boldly meets your gaze whenever you speak. “I’m sorry that you thought I was too high maintenance—that you’d never be able to keep me satisfied—but I was. There was never a doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have had the best life with you, Miller.”

“But you wanted kids—“

“And I had Sarah. Of course, I wanted to mother my own children, Joel, but it wasn’t the end of the world. It just hurt to know that you didn’t want to give me that, when I was always so willing to do it for you.”

His eyes close slowly, realizing how much of a fucking prick he’s been these last twenty-four months.

“I’m sorry—“

“I need to get back in there.” You say with a small nod, gripping firmly the heavy-set door to the club before you’re stepping inside and leaving Joel completely dumbfounded.

I need to make this right.

It’s twelve forty-three in the morning when you finally amble up your driveway, and you’ve actually never been this happy to see your house before.

The kitchen light dim—though still bright enough to see Piper’s silhouette by the door—fills your heart with an immediate sense of comfort after such a long fucking day.

Carefully guiding yourself up the wooden steps so that you don’t fall, you edge nearer to your front door. But not before your boot is colliding with a little bag perched on the top step.

There’s a tag—your name inscribed—and you feel your face fall. Do you have a stalker?

But any premonition is squashed when you take the bag inside—wary, of course—and open it up. Piper is running laps around you all the while your hands fish around the pink cardboard.

“Oh?” You take out an envelope, and your heart sinks.

It starts with your name, and a little wonky heart next to it. Not to mention, it’s written with a pink gel-pen.

I’m sorry for being a jerk, I’d understand if you hate me. Today was fucking horrible, and I’m a douchebag. Not just for today, but for this whole thing. I’m sorry for making everybody think that you’re a bitch, and I wish that I would’ve told you sooner that I didn’t want children, or to get married again. Now that I’m thinking about it, it doesn’t seem all that bad. I’m also sorry that Tommy was a dick, he said he texted you but it bounced back—must’ve blocked his number. But honestly I don’t blame you. We’re assholes and you never deserved us in your life baby.

Take this card as an apology, if you want to. But take those candies and the dog treats, and have a nice evening with our little girl. I’ve unblocked your number and put my own inside of this envelope, so I hope that you’ll call me and we can make things right again.

Love always, Joel.

You wipe at your tears with the back of your hand, and pull out the dog treats alongside the nerds gummy clusters, and smile. He knows you both so well.

“Here, Piper girl.” She comes barreling over to you, almost sweeping your knees from beneath you. “Look’it what your daddy bought for you.”

Her ears prick up at the mention of Joel, and it’s at this moment that you realize you’ll be seeing him again a lot sooner than what you originally thought.

[odiesdayoff]

Kinktober: Tommy Shelby

Pair: Modern!Thomas Shelby x fem!reader

Summary: Your roommate's father doesn't approve of your vape.

Warning: Age Gap/Best friend's father/Dubious Consent/Tom makes reader get high

“I found it!” You yelled from across the dorm, your head poking out from behind the bed. Still partially stuck between the bed and the wall, you held up your strawberry-flavored weed pen to show Charlie. The amount of anxiety that losing it gave you was enough to realize that you and your roommate may have gotten a bit too reliant on the drug. 

You brought the pen to your mouth, but Charlie slapped it from your hand. “Dude, my family will be here in minutes! It can’t smell like Ganja Gooch in here.”

“What? You don’t have weed up in Birmingham?” You laughed. From what you knew about his family, they weren’t the most…clean cut people in the world. Why would they be upset over something so trivial as a weed pen? In your two years of being best friends with Charlie, you’d never met his parents. Only his Aunt Ada, who was sweet.

He placed the pen on your dresser. “Shut up. When are you parents coming?”

Most of the already small dorm room was covered in boxes, trash bags, and miscellaneous crap. “At 5. You’ll probably be moved out by then.” You pocketed the pen and began folding your bedding to shove it into the box it originally came in.

His phone started to ring. “That’s my mum. Are you sure you can’t go to Mary’s dorm?” You still weren’t sure of the reason that he was so cagey about his family. He had been to your house over Spring break this year and you were still in the dark.

“I have to finish packing.” It wasn’t a lie, you had put off packing until the final day. Studying for exams and final papers took up all of your free time. That and Mario Kart.

You knew that Charlie came from a rich family, but this was a new level that you haven't seen before. His father dressed like he was from the 1920’s or something, with a full suit and peaky cap. You could smell the cigarette smoke infused into his clothes before you could see him. 

His mother (or maybe step-mother, you weren’t sure) wore an elegant dress that was both fashionable and functional. Her deep brown hair was curled and pinned back. Her eyes lit up at the sight of you. “You must be the infamous Y/n!” She pulled you into a hug and you could smell her perfume mixed with a bit of her husband’s smoke. “You’re even prettier in person than in those silly Instagram photos Charlie posts.”

“It’s really lovely to meet you, Mrs. Shelby. I can’t believe we’ve been friends for so long and have never met before.” Charlie was still holding the door open for his little sister, Ruby, and didn’t hear your diss. 

She waved you off. “Call me Lizzie, dear. This is Thomas.” She pulled the sleeve of her husband and made him face you. He barely looked at you, though you did notice the way his eyes lowered down your body.

“I still don’t see why we had to be the ones to move Charles out, Lizzie. We can pay people for that.” Lizzie rolled her eyes. Why couldn’t he understand sentimentality and actually being present in the pivotal moments of his only son’s life? He only had one more year of university left. It was strange to hear him be called Charles. It felt all too fancy for someone so…normal. I suppose his father wouldn’t say the same. 

Lizzie scoffed. “Just start moving boxes, Tom.” She turned back to you. “So, where are you from?”

You decided to ignore Thomas. “Norwich.”

Charlie handed a smaller bag to Ruby while Thomas took a storage container. He pulled out his ID and opened the front door for the three of them. “The elevator’s already broken, so it’s lucky we’re on the first floor.”

~~

Having Charlie’s side of the room empty was a surreal sight. So many memories that were made in the room were basically erased at this point.

You took the pen and opened a window, taking it in and blowing it out the window. “And here I thought you were little miss sunshine.” You began to cough and gasp for fresh air at the sudden voice. Turning around, you locked eyes not with Charlie, but with his father.

Smoke billowed from your mouth. “Mr. Shelby- I…thought you all had left.” You rasped out the words, reaching for a water bottle to try and soothe your throat. He smirked at your attempt to hide your distress.

“My wife left her purse. I see you didn’t waste a second with your…” He snatched the pen from your hand. “What is this? Can’t you get real weed here?”

“It’s easier to manage. And rechargeable.” He examined the pen, shaking his head. He brought the pen to his lips and took a hit. The smoke left his mouth in a way you’d never seen before. It was skilled, he didn’t even cough. It formed into rings that blew in your direction. 

“Can barely taste it. How much weed is actually in this?” He examines the pen, and then his glance shifts towards you. "I bet you can barely take it, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not that intolerant. I've been high before."

He tosses it to you. "Suck in until it blinks."

It was a bit of a surprise that he knew what a blinker even was. He seemed like the type to exclusively use one brand of cigarettes since he was a teenager. As if he'd step foot in one of the fancy dispensaries you and Charlie were used to.

You maintained eye contact as you put the tip of the pen in your mouth and began to suck the flavored smoke from it. It took only a few seconds for it to blink and you could finally exhale. It was as if your lungs had never touched oxygen before. They screamed at you to cough, but you didn't want to prove him right.

"Another." He ordered, taking a small step closer. You weren't sure if he was getting taller or if it was just a mix of weed and perspective.

The vape was already hot as you rested it on your bottom lip. You breathed in again, holding it until it blinked. The taste was much worse and the sting against your throat felt like fresh salt in an open wound.

You coughed, only once. Typically, it took you much longer to feel the instant effects of the drug, but you could feel your hands already trembling under the eye of Thomas.

He nodded, finally close enough to put his calloused hands on the soft skin of your waist. "Again."

Something about his gaze and the absolution in his voice made it impossible for you to deny what he wanted. Your shaky hand held the vape up and you sucked.

His slightly chapped lips pressed against yours once you took the pen from your mouth. All of the smoke leaving your system funneled into his. You couldn't deny the way his contact made your knees weak and thighs squeeze together.

The weed was taking effect rapidly. Your head was spinning as you tried to focus on him. His lips traveled from your lips to your cheek to your ear. "Tell me, have you and Charles ever had sex?"

The words briefly brought you out of the weed and lust-driven stupor. You shook your head. "No...we're just friends."

He laughed. "Are you gay?" You denied. "Is he gay?" Again, you denied. "How has he not ever taken the chance to bed you?"

You could barely answer. His hand trailed up your leg and under your thin dress. Nothing could hide the heat that emanated from between your legs.

His free hand took the vape from yours and pressed it against your lips. Instinctively, you took a deep breath in, letting the smoke fill your aching lungs once again. "Is it because you're a virgin? Or maybe...you have an affinity for older men?"

You nearly stopped feeling the warmth of his hand on your leg until he pressed his fingers against the now-damp fabric of your panties. It was humiliating how much he turned you on...and how much the feeling of being humiliated by him turned you on even more.

"Mr. Shelby.." You coughed out, your throat sore and stinging with each syllable. As much as you wanted to scream at him to actually touch you, it would be too much to say at once.

Thomas Shelby wasn't a mind-reader, but he could read when a woman wanted him. He slipped his fingers underneath your panties and pushed into you. Your slick cunt welcomed him in without resistance at all. "Want me to stop? Leaving you high and horny while I go back to my wife and children?"

You shook your head no, silently pleading for him to do something over then idly have his fingers knuckle-deep within you. He curled his fingers, hitting the spots that your own hand couldn't reach if you tried, and moaned into his shoulder.

"Take another and I'll keep giving you what you want." Dazed, you sucked more from the pen. It was far more than you were used to, especially in such a short amount of time. Your legs threatened to give out, for multiple reasons.

"Please..." Your fingers lightly caressed his pants. It had been a while since you had anyone touch you, let alone someone like him.

He got the idea, pulled his hand away, and quickly freed himself from the confines of his trousers. There were condoms somewhere in this room, hidden in one of the boxes so your family wouldn't see that you even thought about something as evil as sex.

There wasn't time to look. You needed him now and it was only a matter of time before Charlie and the rest of them got suspicious. You pulled your panties down to your ankles and allowed his knee to settle between your trembling legs.

His lips trailed against your ear. "I'm going to show you a real high."

[pupsmailbox]

GOTH ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. addam. alister. amelia. amoret. ange. angel. angelo. anubis. arch. archette. ash. aslan. aspen. astor. astoria. astrophel. atticus. axelle. azazel. azrael. bael. bat. batsy. bella. bellatrix. blade. blair. blanchette. brahms. branwen. cain. callan. calliope. cannibelle. caskeite. casketta. caskette. caspian. celeste. celestia. chaos. charlotte. cherry. chira. chiraelle. chiro. chiroptairre. chiroptelle. chiropteranne. choir. christian. cofette. coffin. coffine. constantine. corbin. corpse. crimson. crow. crowley. damian. damien. demonesse. divina. dorian. draven. edgar. elatha. elijah. elix. elwin, elwin. elwood. ember. emmaline. etienne. evan. evangeline. eve. faith. forest. forrest. frill. frille. frilleine. frilliette. frilly. genesis. ghost. gothita. gothitelle. gothitess. gothitesse. grey. gwen. gypsy. hades. hawthorne. hecate. hemlock. imortalle. imortella. iris. israel. jakob. jet. jett. johnas. josiah. judas. kain. kane. kedi. keir. lacey. laciene. laciette. lazarus. leo. lilith. lilithe. lolita. lucid. lucien. lucifer. lucius. luscious. lynx. maeve. malice. mana. martyr. max. melancholy. merle. micah. michael. misery. mordred. morris. mors. morte. mortis. mourge. mourgette. myrette. nightshade. noah. noctre. nocturne. noir. obsidian. oleander. omen. onyx. orion. orpheus. ozul. ozzy. prince. prophet. raven. ravenie. raveniette. rook. rowan. ruby. saber. saint. salem. samael. samuel. scarlet. secrette. seraph. serenity. shilo. shiloh. silas. silver. silvester. skelly. skulliene. skulliette. skully. sorrow. sylvester. syn. thorn. thorne. tobias. tommy. trix. umbriel. valkyrie. valo. vervain. vesper. victoria. ville. violetta. vito. vlad. woundie. zeon. zephyrine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abby/abby. ae/aer. ash/ash. bat/bat. bleed/bleed. blood/blood. book/book. bug/bug. burn/burn. chain/chain. chap/chapel. chill/chill. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. cob/cobweb. cof/coffin. coffin/coffin. corps/corpse. creep/creep. cri/cross. cro/cros. cross/cross. cross/crosse. da/dark. dae/dae. dae/daem. dark/dark. decay/decay. dee/dark. des/despair. devout/devout. div/divine. dust/dust. echo/echo. edge/edgy. en/envie. fae/fang. fang/fang. fe/fear. fie/fiend. fog/fog. fri/frill. frill/frill. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. goth/goth. goth/gothic. gra/grave. grave/grave. ha/haunt. halo/halo. hie/hiem. ho/holy. holy/holy. horn/horn. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ink/ink. lace/lace. lae/lace. lost/lost. mist/mist. moon/moon. net/fishnet. ni/night. night/night. null/null. par/parasol. parasol/parasol. pray/pray. pray/prayer. proph/prophet. ro/rose. rose/rose. rot/rot. rust/rust. sac/sacrifice. saint/saint. scar/scar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. si/sinister. sin/sin. sku/skull. skull/skull. snake/snake. spider/spider. spike/spike. sto/storm. stud/stud. thou/thorn. thron/thorn. thxy/thxm. vae/vaer. ve/ver. velvet/velvet. vo/void. whis/whisper. whisper/whisper. witch/witch. wood/wood. x/x. xae/xaer. × . ♠️ . ♣️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . 🌑 . 💀 . 🕯 . 🕷 . 🕸 . 🖤 . 🥀 . 🦇 .

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Mach (Regretevator) ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names

Adolph, Anansi, Annie, Bio, Bion, Bonaventure, Chance, Charm, Cidvilasa, Clover, Dolon, Dolos, Finn, Fortunato/Fortunata, George, Henry, Hulda, Isaac, James, Johnathan, Lakshmi, Liraz, Maya, Mech, Naiche, Nell, Norman, Philip, Phineas, Rossa, Sentinal, Theora, Tommy, Vikadan, Wiley, Wyle

Pronouns

12/12s, 7/7s, calm/calms, carnival/carnivals, chance/chances, cir/circus, circuit/circuits, cyber/cybers, leader/leaders, mis/mischief/mischiefs, power/powers, ringmaster/ringmasters, trick/tricks, watch/watcher/watchers, ☁️/☁️s, 🌊/🌊s, 🍀/🍀s, 🍿/🍿s, 🎪/🎪s, 👁️‍🗨️/👁️‍🗨️s, 🕸️/🕸️s, 🥇/🥇s

Titles

The Calm Ringmaster, The Forced Android, The One Who Watches The Destruction, The Purple Leader, The Ringmaster with Robotic Eyes, [prn] Is Bound By [prn] Employers, [prn] Who Wields The Ban Hammer, [prn] Who Will Test Your Luck

Genders

Bitcommitic, Chaosean, Circusmusic, Comfevoidic, Dioxogender, Luckthiefic, Nightchaosial, Tricklexic, Viodicecardic, Warningicon, Wtfgirlic

Other mogai

Alderdex, Alderdroid, Aldernumb, Androidperspesque/Chaosperspesque, Assigned Chaos at Birth/AChaAB, Blipdernic, Chagodernic, Chaos Omninoun, Chaosvior, Regretevatorhearthic

[ladykailitha]

Well By Moonlight Part 15

Sorry for this being so late, I thought I set it up last night but hasn't been kind to me the last couple of days with the move.

This week we get all our old favorites back as I work through my backlog. The final chapter of Sweet Surrender will be out on Saturday.

This is another Nancy centric chapter as she tries to track down the wisp of her memories.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

Nancy’s first stop was the library. Because as much as Steve’s comments galled her, she knew in his goofy, big-hearted way was right. She needed to find out about what happened fifteen years ago. Maybe even further than that. But fifteen years was a good place to start.

She drove into town. As strange as that was to think of, most of the pack had cars of some sort. Steve just preferred to travel in wolf form when he could and now she knew why.

She had met a couple of conspiracy nut jobs in her time as a reporter for their school newspaper, but there was something about this that felt bigger than it looked on the outside.

Nancy walked into the library and flashed her pack ID to the librarian. She was going to a specific part of the library, one only available to Domini, alphas, and Wayne Munson. The records of supernatural entities.

She strolled to a secure door that librarian unlocked from a button under her desk, and waited until the door swung open. It revealed a dark and winding stairway that with her enhanced vision she was able to traverse without issue.

She reached the bottom of the stair and smiled at the sight before her. Perched on a table like a gargoyle was Eddie, who was watching his uncle read. She cleared her throat.

Both men looked up at her in surprise.

“Nancy!” Eddie cried. “What brings you to the coolest place in the library?”

She raised her eyebrow at Wayne. “Is he supposed to be here?”

“Family. It’s allowed,” he smiled.

She neared the table to peer over Wayne’s shoulder. “What are you guys looking up?”

Eddie and Wayne shared a look.

“Steve told me everything,” Nancy said primly. “About Tommy, the attack on Patrick. His past. His fears about where all this is coming from.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinked at her a moment. “Wayne and I are trying to find which supe is scentless or as near to as a supe can get. Why are you here?”

Nancy thought about it for a moment and had to concede that if Steve trusted them, she had no reason to not to as well.

“I’m looking into the circumstances of Steve’s fostering and the events leading up to that,” she said, coming over to sit down across from Wayne. “There is something that I only vaguely remember about that time that sticks in my mind and I’m hoping that by going through the records I can find something that sparks that memory.”

Wayne scratched his chin. “I’m working on the angle that whatever it was that attacked Patrick was the same one that killed Steve’s parents.”

Nancy blinked at him a moment and then pulled the book over to her so she could see what they were looking at more clearly.

“I could smell it,” she murmured. “So it’s something that werewolves can scent, but harder for vampires to do the same.”

She turned the book around as Eddie and Wayne shared a glance. She went flipping through the pages.

“There are a few supernatural beings that it could be,” she continued. “We tend to forget about the ones that don’t transform in someway. We think of werewolves, sirens, gwyllgi, selkie and the like. Even vampires have a higher form that they transform into. But there are creatures like the cat sìth and djinn that don’t transform. What you see is what you get.”

“You’re thinking that whatever this beastie is, is a cryptid?” Wayne asked, watching her flip the through the pages faster than his slow, methodic research.

Nancy spun the book around. On the page there were three such creatures. The sphinx, the chimera, and the manticore.

“My bet is on one of these,” she said curtly, standing up. “Now that you know what you’re looking for, if you’ll excuse me, I have my own research to do.”

Eddie and Wayne just exchanged eye rolls before Eddie got up and pulled out books on the beasts, splitting the pile in half and handing a stack to Wayne.

Nancy pulled out this huge portfolio and it landed on the table with a horrid thud, sending up a cloud of dust.

Eddie waved the air in front of his face, not that it would make him cough or irritate his eyes since becoming a vampire, but it was annoyance nonetheless.

“Don’t they have those things on microfiche?” he asked with a glare. They were there first and she was acting like they were bothering her.

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I want to see the originals.”

It took everything in Eddie’s power not to roll his eyes back at her and just buried his head into the research he was doing. He began jotting down things about the chimera that might fit the beast they were looking for.

Wayne had only gotten through two chapters of the sphinx when he shook his head.

“Not a sphinx,” he said gruffly. “They have far too many rules to want to ally with at cat sìth for anything short of an all out war between the fae.”

Eddie nodded, he had ruled them out based on DND rules, but didn’t want to say anything in front of Miss Snooty. He handed Wayne all the books he had on the manticore, his mind on the task in front of him.

Tat, tat, tat...

His pen flicked back and forth in his fingers as read about chimeras. There were different kinds but always a serpent tail, a feline body, and a capra head. The freaky thing breathed honest to god fire.

He thought about the beast that attacked Patrick, the one that Steve had apparently fought off by himself.

Neither of the two men had any indication that they had burn marks on them. Granted it was harder to tell with Steve. The transformation healed most wounds, going either direction. From wolf to human and vice versa.

Tat, tat, tat...

He looked up to see an exchange between Nancy and Wayne. She looked murderous, but Wayne’s steely glare kept her mouth shut. His glance darted back and forth between the two of them in confusion.

“His tapping is driving me crazy,” she finally hissed.

Wayne licked his lips nice and slow and leveled her with a look that could have curdled three generations cows’ of milk.

“And we were here first,” he said coldly. “You are here on a hunch. And probably a damn good one, but if we don’t find out what is stalking the streets of Hawkins, one of the pups could be next, so you will show him the respect you would give me.”

Her jaw that had been hanging open slammed shut.

Eddie snorted and tapped again just to annoy her. Nancy glared at him.

“She doesn’t respect you is the problem, Uncle Wayne. It’s why she wouldn’t let you watch their moon night. Something that if had been allowed wouldn’t have resulted in a brand new werewolf, the ire of the coven, and rampaging beast on the loose, because you would have been there to help Steve take it out.”

Wayne’s glare turned to ice. “Is that so?”

Nancy gulped. Hard. For all Wayne Munson’s down to earth looks and speech she had forgotten that he was a centuries old being with more experience in his left pinkie than she did in all her days on this earth.

She knew she didn’t have a real leg to stand on when she threatened Steve about either of these two vampires watching over her pack, but knew that he would go along with her because he didn’t understand pack pecking order.

But she held her chin high. “I have no reason to trust any vampire, but especially not a Bitten.”

“Do you know what happens when a vampire is turned?” Wayne asked her darkly.

“I know the technical aspects of it,” she replied haughtily. “But as I am not a vampire, I can only speak metaphorically.”

Again Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re not bitten anything. You’ve got werewolf blood in you going back generations on both sides. Your privilege is showing, princess.”

“It’s not like werewolf biting either,” Wayne said ignoring them both. “Steve asked Patrick permission to bite him. It didn’t always used to be that way, but it’s so ingrained in werewolf society that they aren’t aware that they can turn a person into a wolf, provided that person is an alpha. But it’s a soft process. A healing one.”

Nancy frowned, chewing on her lip. “And vampire turning isn’t? I thought Steve asked Billy why he didn’t heal Patrick.”

Wayne nodded. “Because vampire turning requires blood to be exchanged. To just heal Patrick all it would have taken is for Billy to drink his blood. The venom in their saliva has healing properties so that their victims don’t go tattling to everyone and anyone they’d been bit.”

“So even if Billy had merely tried to heal Patrick and get his allegiance in exchange for his life, he still would have sprang the trap set for him?” she asked.

Eddie nodded. “Whoever is pulling the strings on this whole thing knows a lot about vampires, just not enough about Billy.”

Wayne hummed his agreement. “This person is wily and cunning, but their plans keep getting foiled by Steve, so unless you want your alpha dead, you’ll let us work in peace.”

Nancy looked down at the folio in front of her a moment before speaking. “What’s so different about a vampire turning over a werewolf one?”

Wayne turned to Eddie. “You’ve gone through it more recently than I have. You can tell her if you want, but I won’t make you.”

Eddie set his jaw. “It’s like a fire consuming you. Burning out your very blood, your very breath. It literally kills you. That’s why born vampires look down on us, because we’re not living. We will never live again. But unlike Wayne, I chose this willingly. Not because I was going to die anyway. Which is how it usually goes. They turn you and then turn you loose.”

She blanched and her eyes went wide. “Why would they do that?”

“Because, Miss Wheeler,” Wayne said fiercely, “because they got too careless and needed to make a quick getaway. Turn a person into a vampire, send the poor crazed bastard out on the populous, and watch the destruction from afar.”

“‘Cause, if the town’s folk are chasing a rampaging beast,” Eddie sneered, “then they won’t look too closely at the lord who left in the middle of the night.”

Nancy could barely breathe. “That’s awful. Why would anyone willing chose to go through all that pain and torment?”

“Because I would rather die,” Eddie said solemnly, “and going through the agonies of undeath than lose the one person in my life who gave a damn for longer than my use to them.”

She looked between them both and then nodded. She went back to her work without further comment or complaint.

Eddie waited a few more moments to make sure she wasn’t going to say anything else. Then he turned to Wayne. “It’s not a chimera, either. It’s got to be a manticore.”

Wayne looked down at his pile of books, his expression ashen.

“May god save us all.”

~

Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @fullpoetrybread @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookworm0690 @littlewildflowerkitten @just-a-tiny-void @potato-of-the-lord @thelittleclare

5- @goosesister @tinyplanet95 @she-collects-smut @irregular-child @y4r3luv

6- @fairytalesreality @anaibis @papergrenade @ravenfrog @blondie1006 @dreamercec

7- @thedragonsaunt @sadisticaltarts

[modelbus]

YOOOO MODDLEE

yeah I did it again.

(Help I have a problem of disappearing into thin air)

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PART THREE OF CUT CHAOS SHEBSJNSUH

you said you would write 500 chapters.. but like obviously exaggerating..? (Kiddinggg)

tho a few more couldn’t hurt..

juuuust saying if you ever feel like it I will eventually see it and it will eventually make my week. <3333

BUT THATS NOT WHY WE ARE HERE! (I’m sorry my requests are always so long and dramatic bro I just brain like that)

Actual request:

ok so like I knowww cut chaos started from rumours but like rumours are an easy way to start plot lines k? (Also I use she pronouns out of habit but they is pog too)

the friends in question: Tommyinnit (duh), Wilbur (moosic boi), Ranboo (generation loss trauma guy), Possibly Slimecicle?? I know he’s not someone you do requests for normally buttt if you’re okay with it that would be POG, or if slime is a no, tubbo!

SO a few months ago Y/N started working on an SMP with some minimal custom mods, some fancy texture packs, maybe some data packs, and its like this BIGGG project, BUT its not public and its taking a lot of her time, so she can only really do a few streams and most of the time because her schedule is so full its hard to work out streams with friends so, she is alone. with the internet being the internet people started to think something was up, some annoyed viewers made a few rumours and people kept making things up and escalating things until people were saying she did all sorts of horrible things to “lose all her friends” but one of the most popular theories was that she was emotionally abusing them (??? Internet wildin ig) she ignored them while mostly finishing the stuff for the smp, but decided to address it in a very- y/n way. Getting four friends to come to her house and hide slightly off camera while she made a purposefully bad apology video only for them to jump out at the end and her to stand up and be like “YALL REALLY THOUGHT I WAS SOME MASTER MANIPULATOR?! I’M JUST A FUNKY LITTLE CHAOTIC MINECRAFT GOBLIN N’ I’VE BEEN WORKING ON AN SMP THIS WHOLE TIME!! ITS GONNA BE SUPER COOL AND THESE FOUR PLUS ALOOOOT MORE PEOPLE ARE GONNA BE THERE I’M POSTING THE CREATORS SOON AND ITS LAUNCHING IN A MONTH!, SO STOP ASSUMING I’M A BAD PERSON AND GET PUMPED BITCHES!” something along those lines, maybe at the end a little peek at what people are responding with. (Obviously no pressure, but like id be cool) (thanks for considering deity of the busses and models.)

HOW WE LIKING THE SILLIES?!?

P.S I’m not always an angst gremlin (just most of the time..) - ✨🌌🌙 Annon

I DO BE LIKING THE SILLIES (and thank you for elevating me to the level of deity, my ego has been inflated)

Pairing: Cc! Wilbur, Tommy, Ranboo, Charlie Slimecicle x Gn!Reader (platonic)

Roaring Rumors

Life was all about sacrifices.

Or, that’s what you keep telling yourself when you’re up at 1AM working on your server. Putting together an SMP is harder than it sounds; texture packs, data packs, comparability, world-building, even the (seemingly) simply act of contacting people to play on it. For the amount of time you spent on your computer, your hands might as well be part of your keyboard.

Sleep wasn’t the only thing you sacrificed. Streaming, even just fun ones with your friends, had quickly became rare. Although you loved to hop on a call while coding still, your online presence had severely receded.

You just keep telling yourself that sacrifices are necessary. That the payoff would be worth it.

And it really would be, but you just had to get there first. Which was proving harder than you had thought.

At the very least, you still had your friends. Wilbur sitting silently on call with you while you work, Tommy dragging you out of your room, Ranboo always willing to get excited over your progress. Every day you woke up with a text from your groupchat—typically Charlie—just filling you in on the latest internet trend by a meme.

Today, your news comes from Wilbur and Tommy.

“I think they’re canceling you.” Wilbur says casually while you’re in the midst of detailing the hunger bar for a texture pack.

“Ooh, you’re a wrong’un!” Tommy yells in the background of Wilbur’s side of the call.

The three of you had been idly chatting while each doing your own thing. Wilbur and Tommy were engaged in some Twitter competition, as far as you know.

“Canceling me for what?” You ask, deciding to ignore Tommy’s shouting.

“Existing, I think.” Wilbur answers.

“So the normal.”

“The normal.”

Although the conversation stops there, you can’t help yourself. Later, during one of the few hours you dedicate to getting sleep to stay alive, you pull open Twitter on your phone. Your last tweet was nearly two weeks ago, so it’s been a minute.

But you just want to make sure nothing horrible happened while you were busy. You’re a content creator, this is normal. Definitely. You definitely aren’t just justifying this so you can do it.

You swipe through tweets, heading to trending and searching your name. Tweets load, making your mouth run dry. Wilbur wasn’t joking.

All you can do is scroll, reading as the messages get wilder and wilder. From people saying they were missing you to theories on why nobody was streaming you. Each one seemed considerably more implausible, and before you know it you’re glaring at your screen like it’s to fault.

Some thought you had grown apart.

Some thought you had a falling out.

And, apparently, a lot thought you were emotionally abusing them. Or, depending on the tweet, manipulating them.

Quite honestly, you didn’t even know how they got the idea. The long threads of explanations did nothing but send you into a spiral, biting your bottom lip so hard that it bleeds.

You were so close to finishing the SMP. It needed just a few things, then you'd be able to start scheduling to get it up and running. You didn't have the time nor mental capacity to deal with whatever the fuck is going on right now.

Is it a good choice? Maybe not. But do you still ignore the accusations? Hell yes.

-

By the time you get even closer to finishing the preparations for your SMP, you've come up with the perfect plan to address the (quite stupid) rumors. It'll be a two-in-one; you address the rumors and announce the SMP at the same time.

"How long do I have to lay on this floor?" Tommy asks, stretched out behind your chair.

"Nobody asked you to lay on the floor." Wilbur points out, standing next to your computer. Charlie, on the other side, laughs.

"Yeah man, you wanted to be down there."

"Besides, I'm doing great down here!" Ranboo chimes in.

You roll your eyes, grinning. "I'm about to start stream, so it won't be for much longer. Just wait for my cue, yeah?"

Tommy grumbles, but shuts up. You take that as your chance to start the stream, switching it off your waiting screen and waving to the camera. Your chosen stream title has brought in a bit more than your usual casual steam view number, "Talking about some serious stuff," leading people to believe there will be drama. And if it's drama they want, it's drama you'll give.

"Hello, hello!" You smile, leaning back. "So I've decided to talk about some things. Namely, the Twitter shit. I am so sorry for everything, and I mean that. A lot. Sincerely. There's meaning in it."

Tommy snorts, and from the corner of your eye you catch Wilbur kick him to shut him up.

"What am I sorry about?" You ask rhetorically, acting like you read it off of chat. "Oh, you know. People have been saying all types of stuff. The things about me manipulating my friends?" There's a pause while you let that sink in. "So, I'm sorry."

It's a purposefully shitty apology, but you sigh and act like its heartfelt for a few moments, nodding towards chat. Their messages are mostly confused, especially because it isn't one emote-only.

"Sorry you guys are so gullible!" You shout, and Tommy practically tackles you.

Wilbur's the one to fix your chair, Ranboo and Charlie appearing next to you within moments.

"You guys really thought this one could manipulate me? The master?" Charlie asks the stream, pointing at you.

"Yeah!" Tommy shouts, way too energetic for someone who complained five minutes ago about being on the floor. "We're the master manipulators! Get fooled!"

"I, for one, haven't manipulated anyone-" Ranboo starts, but Tommy slaps a hand over his mouth and nods empathetically.

"Yeah, I don't know what you guys were thinking, but I've just been playing fucking Minecraft for the past few months nonstop." You laugh.

"Nonstop. It's a problem." Wilbur nods.

"It is not a problem!" Pause. "Anyways, I made an SMP! And that's where I've been! Not because I've been manipulating my friends or some shit, stop being dumbasses."

"It'll be super cool!" Ranboo adds in helpfully.

"These four-"

"That's us!" Charlie points around at himself, Wilbur, Tommy, and Ranboo.

"-will be on it, plus a lot more. It'll be posting those people soon! As in, check your Twitter obsessively guys! The SMP will be in about a month, too, so get fucking excited! I want to see some hype!"

"WOO!" Tommy screams, making everyone cringe at having their eardrums ruptured.

"So that's all I wanted to talk about I think. Anything to add, guys?" You glance around at the four surrounding you with a grin.

"One thing." Charlie nods, leaning in really close. "I have a secret. This SMP, it's actually-" He hits your end stream button mid-sentence. "And that's how you keep 'em interested."

-

Ycgmaenthusist NEW SMP NEW SMP NEW SMP NEW SMP

Mammalianeighingreflecenthusiest We are dumb as fuck aren’t we

Poabsenthusiest i will RIOT IN THE STREETS if any of yall be mean to MY STREAMER -> Cmwylenthusist FR I GOT TWO FISTS AND A CAUSE

[whythefuckwouldisayprinter]

7x05 live reaction bc im insufferable

im literally covering my ears and saying lalalalala during this dinner scene buck SHUT UP

moving in together??? i beg your finest pardon???

my skin is crawling i can’t watch this 😭😭

“ain’t that the truth” then calling buck out by name?? oh tommy’s not fucking around

abandoning him was a dickish move though

maddie first instinct thinking he’s with a married woman is soooo funny i love her

let him say he’s an ally one more time. sir you kissed a man!!

if i was maddie id be so sick of buck 😭😭 coming over to rant, come out, then tell her he’s dating the guy he spent a week complaining about i’d kick his ass out

im genuinely so confused by the progression eddie and marisols relationship. i dont even think we saw them go on a date but now they’re moving into together…?

(at what point are we gonna discuss how weird this is for christ and how uncharacteristic it is for eddie)

have they even said i love you????

LMAO SHES A NUN this could go in so many directions im screaminngngg

omg it’s the foster house

i’ve been so starved of buddie content im freaking out at them just having a conversation

clock his tea bobby bc what the hell possessed eddie into thinking him moving in his short term gf with him and his SON was a good idea

i love eddie sm

COMING OUT SCENE INCOMING OMGOMG

THIS MEANS SO MUCH TO ME WOWW they did this for ME

IF YOU TOLD ME THREE YEARS AGO BUCK WOULD BE COMING ITU TO TOMMY I WOULDVT LAUGHED IN TOU FACE BUT WOWOJEJWJWI

BUCK COMING OUT THEN MARISOL PACKING UP HER SHIT I WON

buck has never looked better holy shit

BITCH I AM STEERING THE BUCKTOMMY SHIP DONT PLSY W ME

[tommys-kin-hell]

HII!! It's sparkle again!! :D

Thank you for the kin tips you made me! Could I also ask for an id pack for her?? No pressure ofc, and thank you if you do it :3

Sorry for the wait!!! ID PACK:

NAMES:

Joka/Jokke

Folle

Zane/Zana

Pixy

Aella

PRONOUNS:

sparkle/sparkles/sparkself

dream/dreams/dreamself

fool/fools/foolself

mask/masks/maskself

mayhem/mayhems/mayhemself

TITLES:

[prn] of Fools

[prn] of Mayhem

Trickiest of Tricksters

Maker of Games

[prn] of Dreams

[simping4-2manyppl]

HIIIII I SAW YOUR POST ABOUT ASKING FOR REQUESTS AND HELP SO LMK ID U NEED ANY HELP AND ILL SEE IF I KNOW IT 😓😓😊😊 ALSO HERES A PLOT IF TOU WANNA WRITE ABOUT IT:

ok so it’s tom x fem reader and they’re on vacation with the band in hawaii on the beach, and tom and reader sneak away to smoke a joint (U DONT HAVE TO ADD THAT IF UR UNCOMFORTABLE BTW^^^) and find another side of the beach that had a lot of plants and hibiscus flowers so tom gives one and puts it in their hair then they get caught by one of the members and get teased. SORRY IF ITS KINDA BAD I HAD A BRAIN FART MID WAY BUT YEAHH JUST IF U WANNA WRITE IT I PUT IT OUT THERE JUST CASE😊😊 HAVE FUN WRITING AND HAVE A GOOD DAY OR NIGHT THANK YOU U IF U DO WRITE IT!😋❤️❤️❤️❤️

✮ Tom Kaulitz ✮

Flowers 🌺

Thats me right there btw!! AHH TYSM FOR THIS IDEA LITERALLY LOVE YOU SM!! ILL DEF DO MY BEST TO WRITE THIS GOOD!!

Warnings: smoking, teasing 😜 yk all that fun giggly stuff. There might be some bad spelling 😓

sorry if its bad, i tried my best, pls lmk if u liked it in the comments!

Tom Kaulitz x fem reader !!

When your friends invited you to go to Hawaii with them you immediately started packing all of your clothes. You were beyond excited to go since you have heard super nice things about Hawaii, you were especially excited to go to the beach.

You’ve heard how beautiful the ocean was and you couldn’t wait to go see it for yourself, not to mention you get to spend time with your best friends.

After about a week of being in Hawaii, they finally took you to the beach after begging and begging.

Bill was also pretty excited to go too, as you both have been talking about it ever since they invited you.

Once you got there you immediately took off your flip flops in the sand and walked closer to the water.

Feeling the cool water touch your feet made you shiver slightly, getting a bit cold.

You wore some shorts and a swim top since you were all going to go swimming but you didn’t expect the water to be a bit cold so you didnt bring a jacket. (Pretend its been rainy over there and not so hot.)

You jumped as you felt some arms wrap around you, “oh my god, you scared me!” You said as you turned around and saw tom, smiling.

He chuckled and pulled something out of his pocket, “wanna smoke this with me?” He said, with a grin on his face.

You looked around and saw the others talking, “Mm, sure.” You said grabbing his hand and walking around until you found a spot.

He lit it up and took a quick puff out of it before handing it to you, you grabbed it and put it up to your lips, taking a hit.

You blushed as his fingers would slightly graze yours while taking the joint from you as you both passed it back and fourth, until it was all finished.

“Hey, look at that flower!” You said, walking over to a small beautiful flower, that was all by its self.

Your eyes opened as your jaw dropped, seeing more than just one flower, there was multiple scattered all around.

Your eyes lit up as you saw all of the gorgeous hibiscus flowers and plants all around you.

You felt tom grab your chin, slowly moving your head to make eye contact with him as he moved some of your hair behind and placing a beautiful hibiscus flower behind your ear.

You face heated up quickly, as a bright shade of red spread across your face. A small smile appeared on toms face.

“A gorgeous flower for a gorgeous girl.” He said, winking at you, leaning in closer to your face.

Youve had a crush on tom for the longest time now and you were getting nervous, since you never expected him to go farther than just flirting with you.

You heard laughing from behind you, making you back away and turn around seeing everyone laughing at the both of you.

Now this time toms face turned red as they walked up to you both, “AWW TOM!” Bill said, teasing his twin, and laughing in his face.

“aww did we ruin your guy’s moment?” Gustav said, also laughing. “Poor tommy, he didnt get his kiss.” Georg said.

You blushed and turned away, embarrassed. “Be quiet, lets just go, i wanna swim.” Tom said, rolling his eyes.

“Arent you gonna kiss your gorgeous girl? Or are you gonna leave her waiting.” Bill said, raising his eyebrows up and down, smirking at him.

Tom was already far away, trying to ignore all the teasing that he was getting from his brother and friends.

“Cant hear you!” He said, walking away even faster, they all laughed at him, and you eventually let out a giggle or two.

The way his face turned into a shade of pink was adorable, although you wish they wouldnt have ruined the moment between you two but things happen.

you stared at him with a smile on your face, seeing how they tease him.

“Come on! Lets get in the water nowww!” Bill said walking over to the water.

You stayed behind and looked down at your feet, moving your toes in the warm sand.

arms wrapped around you, but this time you knew who it was, the scent was familiar. Making you smile to yourself.

“How come you keep coming up from behind me? Are you trying to scare me or something?” You said, laughing.

You heard him chuckle and turn you around to face him, “No, just really like hugging you from behind.” He said, smiling.

You laughed and smiled, as you held eye contact. He put his hand on your cheek placing his lips onto yours, you stood in shock, not knowing what to do, but just melted into the kiss.

He pulled away and had a big smile on his face, with a slight tint of pink of his cheeks.

“Race ya to the water!” He said running, “Hey! no fair! You got a head start!!” you said, yelling and pulling your shorts down quickly, running behind him into the water.

“Hey! Wait up!” You said going into the water, immediately splashing him. “Hey!” He said splashing you back.

I hope you guys liked it! Sorry if it was a bit rushed, i was just super excited!!

[1winged-spiderzz]

⋆˙⟡♡Angel Dust NPT (+ identities)♡⟡˙⋆

°˖➴ Self Indulgent

°˖➴ Themes of Angels, Spiders, Guns, Drugs, Lovecore, and Sexuality/Hypersexuality. More masc/neu in namesake

ᝰ.ᐟ Names:

All the names come from different origins, please do your own research first

AK, Abaddon, Adam, Adonis, Alex, Alexander, Amadeus, Amado, Ammo, Anansi, Ange, Angel, Angelo, Ant, Anthony, Aya, Aziz, Bren, Bruce, Cael, Caliber, Cancor, Candy, Caradoc, Cass, Castiel, Cat, Charlie, Chris, Christofer, Cody, Colt, Conor, Corwin, David, Davon, Didier, Dimitri, Dragon, Drake, Emanuel, Engel, Erasmus, Eros, Evan, Evangelical, Evangelos, Flower, Gabriel, Gagamba, Gohma, Gossamer, Habib, Hachi, Hariel, Henry, Howitzer, Hunter, Javan, Jay, Jelly, Kafziel, Kat, Kemuel, Kevin, Kongulo, Kumo, Lennon, Lev, Lex, Love, Lover, Luv, Magnum, Malach, Max, Merimange, Michael, Michelangelo, Mike, Missulena, Mogg, Mortar, Ocho, Oliver, Orifiel, Otto, Pearl, Pin, Raguel, Ramiel, Raph, Raphael, Raziel, Ricochet, Rocha, Rogan, Sam, Samuel, Sicarius, Sig, Spider, Sten, Sun, Sunny, Taranto, Thompson, Tom, Tommy, Trey, Upendo, Uriel, Uzi, Valentine, Vallo, Vel, Velvet, Widow, Winchester, Wolf, Xa, Xander, Yael, Zadkiel, Zerachiel

ᝰ.ᐟ Pronouns:

Order is like he/him/his

a/arro/arrogas

ange/angel/angels

angel/angel/angels

arro/arrogant/arrogants

bite/bite/bites

bug/bug/bugs

bull/bullet/bullets

bullet/bullet/bullets

de/dem/demos

dr/drug/drugs

drug/drug/drugs

eight/eight/eights

ge/gem/gems

gem/gem/gems

gun/gun/guns

h*/h*m/h*s

he/heart/hearts

heart/heart/hearts

hi/high/highs

high/high/highs.

hx/hxm/hxs

hy/hym/hys

love/love/loves

lu/lust/lusts

lust/lust/lusts

luv/luv/luvs

poi/poison/poisons

poison/poison/poisons

pri/pride/prides

pride/pride/prides

ro/rose/roses

rose/rose/roses

ser/sera/seras

shoot/shoot/shoots

spi/spider/spiders

spider/spider/spiders

thou/thee/thy

tom/gun/tommyguns

✂️/✂️/✂️s

❤️‍🩹/❤️‍🩹/❤️‍🩹s

🃏/🃏/🃏s

🌹/🌹/🌹s

🍁/🍁/🍁s

🍃/🍃/🍃s

🍆/🍆/🍆s

🍈/🍈/🍈s

🍑/🍑/🍑s

🍒/🍒/🍒s

🍷/🍷/🍷s

🎬/🎬/🎬s

💊/💊/💊s

💋/💋/💋s

💌/💌/💌s

💐/💐/💐s

💝/💝/💝s

💨/💨/💨s

💵/💵/💵s

📹/📹/📹s

🔞/🔞/🔞s

🕊️/🕊️/🕊️s

🕷️/🕷️/🕷️s

🕸️/🕸️/🕸️s

🚬/🚬/🚬s

🥀/🥀/🥀s

🩷/🩷/🩷s

🪢/🪢/🪢s

🪽/🪽/🪽s

ᝰ.ᐟ Titles:

A Thousand Kisses, Angel as High as The Sky, Angel of Sex and Drugs, Fallen Spider, One Winged Spider, Sinful Angel, Spider of Sinful Thoughts, The Angel to Be, The Gun-slinger, The Lust-filled Spider, The One to be Redeemed, The One who Shot Through Your Heart, The One with Hidden Guns, The Pink Spider, Trigger Happy Angel/Spider, [PRN] Who Gives [PRN]self to Pleasure, [PRN] Whose Love is Clouded by Lust, [PRN] of Many Limbs

ᝰ.ᐟ Genders:

Each first letter links to the og post

Addictgender, Angeldustcharic, Angelhigh, Deangelgender, Bleedheartic, Consciloveic, Dualweilgunic, Fallenlovic, Genderhigh, Gunbelsic, Gunmasc, Haurancute, Heartchocoboxic, Hypersexdemon, Hypersexgender, Hypersexspiderdemon, Hypersexulenel, Hypersexulidemon, IRDUtagged, Ingeluse, Invispiheart, Lexespideric/Spiderlexic, Loserbabysongic, Lovecorefreakbitch, Lovecoriboy/Lovecoridian, Lovecorimasc, Nightmaritrippic, Paradoxicangelic, Pinkshadowic, Poisonsongic, Rospixelvalentinic, Seroanus, Spiderinjection, Spiderthing, Spiwebtanglen, Succuangeliyn, Sweetheartgoric

ᝰ.ᐟ Labels:

Each first letter links to the og post

AFeMAB, ASpiAB, Alderarachne, Alderarachnid, Alderlovecorian, Angelsuccuallion, Angelsuccuvior, Ariaperspesque, Fallevior, Gunxper, Hypersexuvesi, Lovecoreaestelic, Loveperspesque, Lovevildernic, Lustintent, Sexvesil, Spidervesil

This was my first ever ID pack thing, it was surprisingly fun

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 6/?

Read on AO3

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Ahahahahahahaha, this plot bunny is the size of a fuckin' dinosaur now and I have NO REGRETS! *weeps a little*

Many thanks to @the-little-red-queen, @aquamarineglitter, and especially @bornunderabluemoonbaby for helping my untangle a few thorny plot points, just listening to me word vomit, and even providing some truly excellent background music :) Thank you so much!

Evan may have agreed to sit down and talk with Tommy, but his wary eyes were still those of a trapped animal.

Tommy could feel them boring holes into the side of his head as he dug through the clothes stored in the dresser for something clean that would fit the witch. Tommy didn’t live here—the apartment building was a coven safehouse, meant to be a place where coven members could lie low or regroup in emergencies—but all of them kept a few essentials in the various apartments they’d claimed as their own over the years. Clothes, cash, forged documents…the standard bug out kit that Tommy had been stashing in various places all over the world for centuries (Hell, by now some of his caches had probably been “rediscovered” and placed in museums). There was even an industrial-sized freezer in the building’s sub-basement that Josh kept stocked with bagged blood.

He ignored Evan’s stare, eventually gathering a clean pair of sweats and a hoodie that would probably fit him. He was pretty muscular—not as broad as Tommy was, but certainly not a small man—and they were basically the same height. When he turned back around, Evan hadn’t moved from the bed. He had a white-knuckled grip on the bedspread, just glaring at Tommy unblinkingly.

He moved very, very slowly, holding the clothes up so Evan could see and setting them down on the end of the bed before backing away again, holding his hands up in plain sight.

Evan’s gaze flitted down to the clothes, but then back to Tommy’s face. “How do you know my name?” he asked, suspicion thick enough to cut through in his voice.

Tommy tilted his head, considering. The ID in the witch’s wallet had a false name on it. Given the fact that Evan had, apparently, been banished, that made a certain amount of sense. Banishment was not a consequence for a small crime, after all. Between the shock of what had happened at the party, Tommy drinking from him, and the aftereffects of a thrall as powerful as Tommy’s was, the kid’s memories had to be at least a little hazy. Somehow, Tommy got the feeling that reminding him he’d basically been forced into giving up his real name would be a bad idea.

He jerked a thumb towards the wallet and pack of gum lying out on the nightstand. “Looked at your driver’s license. One of my coven found your Jeep in the staff parking—I had him bring it here and put it in the garage.”

Evan reeled back in surprise at that, and Tommy didn’t think he was imagining the relief that flooded through his expression at the mention of the old blue Jeep that Sal had shown up with in the last couple hours before sunrise. Almost instantly, though, his face shuttered, smoothing back over into wary tension. “And, uh, when do I get, get my keys back?” he asked, the slight stammer belying the bravado the demand was delivered with.

“That depends on how the conversation goes. For right now—shower. Change. There’s a diner around the corner that serves breakfast all day. Never had it myself, obviously, but the line’s usually out the door and they’ve been in the same spot for thirty years. Anything you won’t eat?”

Evan blinked at him, a little confusion cutting through the wariness now. “N-no?” he said, the word coming out far more like a question than a statement.

“All right, I’ll get a spread. Bathroom’s downstairs. I think there’s mouthwash under the sink, but fuck if I know when it was bought. There’s towels and washcloths already in there. I go by Tommy these days. Tommy Kinard.”

Evan’s eyes grew bigger and bigger as he spoke, more confusion filling them as his brow furrowed. Tension radiated off of him, his back so tight Tommy thought his spine might snap if he tried to touch him. Clearly, he had no idea what to do with a vampire that was rattling off a spiel that sounded more like the awkward end of a one-night stand than the terms of what should be his imminent captivity and/or death.

It might have been playing dirty, but Tommy had known the value in keeping your enemy off balance before Evan’s ancestors were born, and he didn’t want to thrall the kid again if it could be helped.

Not that he wanted the witch to be his enemy.

The stray thought pulled him up short as he preceded Evan down the stairs (if that one burst of magic earlier was anything to go by, the kid probably didn’t have enough strength right now to mount a serious bid for escape, but there was no sense being stupid about it), and he heard Evan’s breath hitch at the pause. He forced himself to continue casually down to the living area, flopping down on the couch like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Or an extremely jumpy witch only a few feet away.

He made a show of turning the TV on, grimacing a little when some godawful reality show popped up on the screen—clearly Lucy or Ravi had been the last person to use it. He pretended to find the Bachelor Housewives of Survivor Island or whatever the fuck it was engrossing as Evan hesitated at the foot of the stairs, his eyes darting between Tommy and the (seemingly) unguarded door. He’d never make it. Even if he managed to fire off a spell, with witch blood coursing through Tommy’s veins, Evan would be lucky to even make it out the door, let alone all the way to the stairwell.

He silently hoped the kid didn’t try. He really wasn’t interested in traumatizing him further. After a long moment, Evan took a few wavering steps towards the bathroom door, obviously still a little woozy from being drained. An unfamiliar flash of guilt unfurled in Tommy’s gut…he really hadn’t meant to take so much; he’d just been trying to get Gerrard to lose interest and move on.

But God, Evan’s blood had been delicious. Not just powerful—witch blood was always powerful. The taste of Evan’s had exploded on Tommy’s tongue, lit up every nerve ending in his body like pure electricity. He’d wanted the witch closer, wanted to hold him close forever, wanted to taste more of him, wanted to taste all of him. It had been a good century or two since the last time he’d drunk from a witch, but he didn’t remember it feeling like that. Granted, that witch had been actively trying to kill him at the time, but still…

Evan vanished into the bathroom, and Tommy almost chuckled at the sound of the flimsy push-button lock engaging. He muted the TV and kept one ear tuned to the bathroom as the water started, listening intently for the sound of a spell being chanted. He was taking a risk letting Evan out of his sight even long enough to take a shower, but he genuinely didn’t think the witch had the strength to do anything drastic right now. After he had some food and proper rest, it might be a different story…but he thought it was worth the risk right now.

But worth the risk to what?

As before, the thought pulled him up short. What was his end game here? He’d promised Lucy he would come up with a plan…he needed to. He and Alonzo had a great relationship, and their coven master had never really treated Tommy like a subordinate, even after he’d stepped down as second in command, but he knew that Evan’s mere presence in the coven safehouse was an unfathomably large risk. That Alonzo had not already stormed through the door demanding that they kill the witch immediately was a measure of the respect Alonzo had for him and his instincts. Still, he couldn’t ask his coven master to ‘just trust him’ for very much longer. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with Evan.

The water was still running, but he’d yet to hear the sound of the shower door opening and closing. Silently, he rose from the couch and slipped over to the door, listening for any indication that Evan was about to do something foolish.

What he heard was the sound of the young man almost hyperventilating, his rapid, panting breaths ragged and watery around the edges. The sound was too low to the ground…as though Evan had locked the door behind him and just sunk to the floor.

The guilt twisted harder in Tommy’s gut. The witch had to be terrified.

Tommy just couldn’t figure out why that bothered him so much. Sure, he tried not to go out of his way to be cruel to humans, but nor was he going out of his way to be especially nice to them. Getting…getting attached to humans never ended well. Or at least, it had never ended well for him. And Evan was a goddamned witch. Not only did it not make sense to be so affected by his distress, it was dangerous. To Tommy personally, as well as pretty much everyone he gave even the remotest damn about. He should have turned the decision of what to do with him over to Alonzo while Evan was still unconscious.

And accepted that the most logical thing to do was kill him.

Something in Tommy refused to just hand Evan’s fate over to his coven master, though. Something inside him rebelled at the thought of killing the witch. It made no sense. He couldn’t explain the impulse to keep Evan out of harm’s way any more now than he had been able to at Gerrard’s…he just knew he wanted to. Needed to.

But that still begged the question what he was going to do. Even if he could convince Alonzo to keep Evan alive, how could they neutralize him? Once he recovered his strength, he’d be too dangerous to leave loose in the coven house or the loft. It might not even be possible if Evan had ever trained in transportation spells. Either they’d have to keep him too drained to use his magic effectively, or they’d have to use even more unsavory methods to keep him under control. He knew, vaguely, that there were ways to nullify a witch’s powers, but it wasn’t like he could just call Howie up and ask him.

There was another option, of course. A crazy, even riskier option than keeping Evan prisoner. One that honestly had a snowball’s chance in Hell of even working…but the idea kept trying to worm its way to the forefront of Tommy’s mind. What if…just what if…

He shook his head, listening as the ragged, teary gasps on the other side of the bathroom door started to taper off. He heard Evan climb slowly off the floor of the bathroom, and then eventually the shower door opened, the sound of water pouring down on the tile floor of the shower briefly growing louder. One thing at a time. First, he had to get the witch to talk to him, and to do that, he had to get him out of fight or flight mode. Right. Easier said than done.

He crossed back to the couch and pulled his phone out, searching up the online delivery menu for the little diner around the corner that Lucy frequently took Lena to. He had no idea what was even an appropriate amount of food for a human Evan’s size—but Lena swore the pancakes were the best she’d ever had. He ordered a stack of them with butter and syrup, as well as a carafe of orange juice. After a moment’s hesitation, he added scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage links, and an assortment of sliced fruits that looked tempting in the picture on the menu. Should he get oatmeal? Maybe a yogurt parfait? The cinnamon rolls looked good, too. Fuck it. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. He threw the other items into his cart and sped through the checkout, paying extra for quick delivery, and added a generous tip.

No sooner had he closed his phone’s web browser than it rang, Josh’s contact number popping up on the screen. Tommy froze for a bare instant, surprise flashing through him. Lucy had just set Josh onto seeing what he could find out about Evan Buckley only a few hours ago. If he was already calling, then he’d either already hit a wall, or—

“Kinard, what the hell kind of hornet’s nest did you step in?” Josh demanded as soon as he connected the call.

Or whatever he had found was going to cause problems. Tommy sighed. Yeah, that tracked.

“Good morning, Josh. How are you, Josh? I’m great, thanks for asking,” Tommy said flatly, his eyes trained on the bathroom door.

“Shut it, Tommy,” Josh snapped, and Tommy sat up a little straighter. Josh sounded stressed, and coming from a vampire Tommy had personally witnessed make vampires twice or even thrice his age break down into tears, that was…disconcerting.

“Josh?” he said, cautiously. “Did you find something?”

“Okay, first of all, I cannot tell you how much easier it would make my life—all our lives really—if you were somehow mistaken and you are not at our safehouse with a banished witch named Evan Buckley. So, this witch…is he about twenty-two, twenty-three years old?”

“Twenty-three, according to his driver’s license.”

“Of course. Pretty distinctive birthmark over one of his eyes?”

“Uh…yes?”

“Perfect!” Josh exclaimed, in a tone that suggested it was absolutely not perfect. “And are you sure he’s been banished?”

“I mean, we haven’t exactly exchanged life stories, but he was alone in a vampire den and he doesn’t have a familiar…unless it’s, like, a flea or a snail or something and I just haven’t noticed.”

Instead of the snort of laughter his sarcasm usually got from the other vampire, he heard Josh breathe out through his nose. Very slowly. “Tommy. As your friend and this coven’s head of security, you need to get rid of him. Right now. Drain him dry…we might need the firepower. And then dump the body as far out of our territory as you can manage.”

Shock raced through Tommy, and he actually jerked his phone away from his ear to stare at the screen in disbelief. Josh…Josh never talked like this. The younger vampire was fiercely protective of them all, and took his job managing all of their digital records and finances very seriously. He was a gifted strategist, and certainly had no qualms about sending Tommy, Sal, or one of their other stronger members out to “deal” with problems that came up—but it wasn’t like him to immediately jump to violence. He placed the phone back against his ear.

“What? Why?”

“You know I’ve got some…contacts in witch covens around the country. People that do the same things I do. We’re not friends. We’re not even allies. But we all understand that preventing conflicts between vampires and witches is in everybody’s best interests, and we exchange information to that end. I didn’t even have to ask anyone to go hacking—they just knew about this kid. It was a huge scandal. He’s from the east coast. Pennsylvania. His family is old magic, and I’m talking old magic. Their coven traces back all the way to before the Black Death in Europe. About five years ago, Evan Buckley was banished for murdering his brother-in-law…guy named Doug Kendall.”

Tommy frowned, his mind racing. Okay…okay, he sort of knew this from the strange vision he’d had while drinking from Evan. Licking his lips, he said, “Is his sister’s name Maddie?”

“What? How did you—never mind. Yes. Why?”

Holy shit. Holy shit that had all been real? “Nothing, no reason. Okay, so he killed his brother-in-law. Why do you want me to get rid of him so fast? There are people in our coven who have done that.”

“Because the implications and possible consequences of him still having his magic are bigger than our coven can deal with. Even during the trial, there were some doubts he was guilty. The kid was seventeen…and his brother-in-law was in line for a position on the Pennsylvania high coven. Do you know how powerful high coven witches are? There were also apparently some rumors that Doug Kendall was abusive to his wife.”

Tommy hissed, remembering the intensity of Evan’s feelings for his sister. How much he regretted not being able to protect her…and how much he had wanted to protect her during his trial. “Is it possible him and his sister were in on it together? Or that he was actually covering for her?”

Josh sighed wearily. “You are…not the first person to ask that. But the Kendalls are old magic and old money. Incredibly politically connected. And they wanted someone to pay. If the wife did it, unless there was overwhelming evidence that she’d done it in self-defense…well. You and I both know how loud money and connections can talk in situations like that. And the penalty for an adult coven member using their magic like that is execution.”

“But killing a seventeen-year-old boy would have been a harder sell,” Tommy mused. He could see it. He didn’t know jack shit about Evan, not really, but he remembered the absolutely unyielding love he felt for his sister from the memory he’d seen while drinking from him. Tommy had no problem believing Evan Buckley would have taken the fall for his brother-in-law’s murder if it kept her safe.

“Tommy, if this is the same witch—just the fact that his magic hasn’t faded after his coven bonds were severed is proof that he was innocent. The fact that he still has his magic five years after losing his coven bond is just insane. Even if he was innocent, he should have lost it by now.”

“I’m still not seeing why I should kill him,” Tommy said impatiently. He glanced over at the bathroom door again, assuring himself that the water was still running. “Lucy even said we had to think about the advantage he could give us. If Gerrard and Ortiz team up, witch blood could be the ace in the hole that keeps us from having to leave LA.”

“Tommy, listen to me carefully,” Josh said. “Not this witch’s blood. It’s not worth the absolute shitstorm that would come down on us if anyone ever found out we had him. This kid’s existence is dangerous for the entire Pennsylvania high coven. Do you understand how big that is in the witches’ politics? It has national implications. No. Alonzo already said I have final say on what we do with him. It’s safest to kill him.”

“Josh,” Tommy protested, and didn’t even know what he was going to say. His head was spinning with the new information.

And in his heart, he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through with what Josh was asking him to do. He couldn’t kill Evan. He had no idea why…but he couldn’t do it.

“Tommy, there’s no other choice. Alonzo wants him dead and disposed of by sundown. If you can’t do it, Sal will.”

In the bathroom, the water finally shut off, and Tommy heard Evan step out of the shower. He drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch, his mind racing. “All right. I understand,” he said finally, disconnecting the call before Josh could say anything else.

Well…fuck.

[alterpack-drivethru]

dearest mod packet will you please bless us with a Dream or Wilbur alter... go crazy with it, I'd love to see ur take on either of em!! just be sure to include names that arent too related to "Dream" or "Wilbur" dnjshfj :3 thank you mod packet !!!

– @bloodpumping

You're only given a little spark of madness...

A C!Wilbur & C!Dream Alter Inspiration Pack. Packs will not be a 1 to 1 to the headmate! Scrap whatever isnt needed!

TW FOR: Religious Trauma mentions, Mind Control Mentions, Drug mentions

⋆₊ ♱ name: Wilson, Wil, Terrence, Maverick, Maddoc, Abel, Ozwald, Vesper, Icarus, Simon,

⋆₊ ♱ age: Chrono 40+, DistantAge (An age that feels distant to your being, for whatever reason that may be) TransPerma25

⋆₊ ♱ gender: Grimegender, Rotgender, oddthing, deaddfluid, somethingmasc, Chaos Gender

⋆₊ ♱ pronouns: Hx/Ix/Thxy/He/It/They/Vi/Vim/Dead/Rot/Hollows/Golds/Things/Dusts/Reviveself/Soulself

⋆₊ ♱ source: DSMP

Did not leave for utah for "selfish reasons", as hx will say

Gained complicated forgiveness from Tommy, due to still having high regards for Dream.

⋆₊ ♱ species: Human-thing, Zombie Equivalent. Was once purely human, but the process of revival had taken away many parts of his original humanness. He is often numb to most forms of pain, and refers to it as feeling like he has a body made of stones and bricks.

⋆₊ ♱ relationship ids: Gay, Aroweird, Caligosexual

⋆₊ ♱ cis-ids: Revived, Cane user, Disabled, Mind controlled, Drug User (Uses to self soothe), Low Empathy, Cold blooded, Harmful, Stitched, CPTSD, Depression, BPD, Schizoaffective, God Complex, Severe Flashbacks, Amnesia, Emotion Repression, Manic, Manipulative, Manipulated, Groomed, Perci-Villian

⋆₊ ♱ trans-ids: Transliving, Minecraft Heart, TransPolyhearted (where one feels they should have multiple hearts either literally, or by soul), TransPOTS, Trissreligioustrauma, TransSevProgramming, TransRomantic, TransCOTARD's, TransNPD, TransSevTrauma, Trisbirace, TransObsessive, Transgermanaccent, TransDystonia

⋆₊ ♱ extra-ids: PermaSickly, PermaAbusen (abused + abusive), PermaAge25, PermaManic, NullSoul, PermaCold, PermaLonely, PermaRotScentic, PermaFrankenstine (Limbs are from different people. From test experiments to Dreams revival process)

⋆₊ ♱ roles: Hyperludusian, Compulsion Keeper, Pain Absorber, Cassmate, Shock Absorber, BPD Delusion Calmer, Depression Holder, Distortionist, Hypnotical Persecutor, Guilt Trip Fighter, Chef, Sickness Nuller

⋆₊ ♱ triggers:

Pos: When They Come for Me, Cigarettes, Trains, Strategy Games, Ravens, Cooking, Flags/Researching Flag History, Debating

Neu/Complicated: Philza, Caramel Pie, Journals/Planners, Little Brother Figures, Diamond Swords, Train Stations, Bright red lights

Neg: Teddy's Taxidermy, Explosions, Prime (Religion), Needles, Deserts, Hands Being bound/Restricted, Hot Tea, Bad drug trips, Hospital/Emergency Room Settings

⋆₊ ♱ faceclaim:

⋆₊ ♱ name: Dremyr, Tristin, Ridge, Fawn/Folly, Wolfen/Wolf, Iso, Dread, Morana, Sol,

⋆₊ ♱ age: Chrono 200+, Immortal, AgeForever

⋆₊ ♱ gender: EndermanGender, Xeno-Intersex, Masc Agender, Innoruien, SickThing, timarix

⋆₊ ♱ pronouns: He/Him/Thxt/Thxng/Hym/Faer/Bliss/Gods/Shi/Hirs/Muttself/Nxghtself

(Thxt/thxng is pronounced That thing, that things, that thingself. Nxght/Nxghtself is Night)

⋆₊ ♱ source: DSMP

Hir Revival involved more than a revival book, and is more medically trained due to it.

Is from the farlands before thxt thxng's home was destroyed

⋆₊ ♱ species: Disguised, Will often try an hide thxt thxng's identity from visual perception. Is a White Enderman. May have more sensitivities than normal Enderman alters. May disguise thxt thxngself to be another headmate, but with unmistakable details.

⋆₊ ♱ relationship ids: Hypersexual BPD, Guiltsexual, CupidoRomantic, AcaniRomantic

⋆₊ ♱ cis-ids: Autistic, BPD, NPD, Moral OCD, Mind controller, Programmer, Scarred, PermaMasked, PermaDisguised, Green Blood, Abusive, Manipulative, Grave Robber, Killer, Apathetic, Enderman, Hypersexual

⋆₊ ♱ trans-ids: TransPredator, TransSevHarmful, TransMortal, TransHuman, PanAccent, TransConabuse, TransPerci-Monster, TransASPD, TransDelusional, TransSemi-mute, TransGod, TransMinecraftDeity, TransController, TransPanOCD, TransSwordsman, TransPsychosis

⋆₊ ♱ extra-ids: TransPermaShapeshifter, PermaController, PermaProgrammer, PermaBloody, Permabloodstainedfur

⋆₊ ♱ roles: Apathy Holder/Cassmate, Interventioner, Bodily Caretaker, Apperance Morpher (More frequent to change the bodys outfit to hide more), Hypersexual Holder, Emergency Responder, Mortician, Death Distractor, Trauma Holder

⋆₊ ♱ triggers:

Pos: Stone Wall Stone Fence, Picking Fruit, Grave Robbing, Bridges, Painting, Cleaning, Panthers

Neu/Complicated: Tommy & Wilbur, Water, Ticking Clocks, Cabins, Snow, Being in friend groups

Neg: Empty Plains Fields, Butterflies, Being surrounded, Unwanted Sexualness, Bubbling Lava, Lava Sounds, Sam (gets angry rather than scared)

⋆₊ ♱ faceclaim:

[pupsmailbox]

CLOWN︰JESTER ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　ace. anticette. apple. arcade. aster. astucieux. astuto. astuzia. august. balloonette. bandit. battutista. bennett. bingo. birthdae. blossom. bob. bobbie. bobby. boink. bon. bonnie. bozo. buddy. buttercup. button. buzz. calypso. carnival. casper. circus. circusse. cirque. clerihew. clown. clownesse. clownette. comet. comic. commedia. confetti. cory. cosmo. crayon. dainty. daisie. daisy. dash. dewey. dex. dexter. ditzie. ditzy. dizzy. doll. dolos. doodle. dot. dottie. emery. emil. espie. finn. fizz. flynn. fool. foolette. frills. giggles. giullare. glitter. gracie. gwen. harlequin. harlette. harley. imp. jaspers. jesse. jessie. jest. jester. jesteresse. jesterette. jesterlita. jestesse. jestette. jett. jill. jingle. jinx. joker. jokesse. jokesy. jokette. jolly. joy. joyce juice. jupiter. ken. kip. kipper. kite. kizzy. lala. lolli. lulu. madeline. maeve. marionette. marjorie. maverick. merry. milo. mimi. nifty. pagliaccio. paint. pantin. parade. patches. pendolo. pierre. pierro. pierrot. pigeon. piper. polka-dot. polka. polkadot. poppy. puzzle. quin. quinn. quinny. raspberry. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rio. rocket. rogue. ruffle. sally. scooter. scout. scribble. sekai. sketch. skippy. skittle. snicker. soda. spade. spark. sparks. sprinkle. squeak. squiggle. stitch. stitches. streamer. sunbeam. sunny. sunray. taffy. tally. terach. tessa. tetris. titter. toby. tommy. triboulet. tricheur. trick. trickesse. trickette. trix. trixie. tryck. tryx.. tune. twinkle. twirl. wendy. whimsy. yippie. zane. zang. zany. ziggy.

PRONOUNS ⌇　!!!/!!!. !!t/!!t. !?/!?. . :3/:3. :3c/:3c. :p/:p. >:3/>:3. >:3c/>:3c. aah/aah. an/antic. animal/cracker. balloon/balloon. bard/bard. be/bell. blast/blast. bo/bounce. boing/boing. boop/boop. bri/bright. bright/bright. card/card. chi/chime. circus/circuse. clown/clow. clown/clown. co/color. co/colorful. co/comedy. co/comical. colo(u)r/colo(u)r. color/color. comic/comic. comic/comical. costume/costume. dot/dot. egg/egg. ent/entertain. fo/fool. fool/fool. fu/fun. fun/fun. giggle/giggle. h!!/h!!m. ha/ha. harley/harlequin. he/hem. honk/honk. hu/humor. h☆/h☆m. h⭐/h⭐m. ip/ip. jest/jest. jester/jester. ji/jingle. jingle/jangle. jinx/jinxe. jo/joke. jo/joker. jo/jokester. jo/joy. joke/joke. joke/joker. joke/jokester. jol/jolly. juggle/juggle. jump/jump. ki/kit. kit/kit. la/laugh. la/laughter. laugh/laugh. light/light. mi/mime. mim/mime. mis/mischief. mrrp/mrrp. party/party. pattern/pattern. paw/paw. perform/perform. perform/performer. pip/pip. pla/play. pla/playful. play/play. pom/pom. pop/pop. pos/posse. prank/prank. prank/prankster. pun/pun. pup/pup. quip/quip. rainbow/rainbow. ruse/ruse. sh!!/h!!r. shine/shine. sho/show. sh☆/h☆r. sh⭐/h⭐r. si/silly. silly/silly. smile/smile. sparkle/sparkle. splat/splat. squee/squee. star/star. suit/suit. ted/teddy. th!!y/th!!m. th☆y/th☆m. th⭐y/th⭐m. topsy/turvy. trick/trick. trick/trickster. vex/vexe. wah/waah. wi/witty. wit/wit. wonder/wonder. yip/yip. yip/yippee. zi/zir. ☀️ . ⚘️ . ✨ . ❗ . 🃏 . 🌈 . 🌻 . 🍌 . 🍭 . 🎁 . 🎂 . 🎆 . 🎈 . 🎉 . 🎊 . 🎠 . 🎡 . 🎢 . 🎪 . 🎭 . 🎵 . 🎶 . 🐾 . 💡 . 💦 . 💫 . 📯 . 🔊 . 🔔 . 🖍 . 🖍️ . 🗯 . 😜 . 🤡 . 🥳 . 🧁 . 🧨.