#i loooove this song it's so much fun

[mymarifae]

thank you, music

[silverpiwon]

The fact that we only get piwon x zb1 interactions from Keeho and Matthew is crazy

[its-no-biggie]

Shuffle your favourite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. Then copy/paste this ask to your favorite mutuals. 💌💜

hi helios!! thanks for the ask <333

when im alone by HVDES & sharks! - really good angsty song for screaming along in the car. not much in terms of substance but it just hits

LEveL by sawano hiroyuki [nZk] & TXT - solo leveling op 🔥 high energy, really crunchy and electronic

laplaces angel (hurt people? hurt people!) by will wood - augh. will wood. one thing about me is i love a song with a prominent piano part. im obsessed with this whole album

もしも命が描けたら (Moshimo inochiga egaketara) by YOASOBI - another album i listen to a lot!! i tend to prefer their more high energy songs, which this one isnt, but its really good. and it has a key change!

eff by bo burnham - im a little too proud of the fact that i can sing along to this song. high school me loooooved this era of bo burnham (and i still do tbh. this song is fucking iconic)

ALL BANGERS ‼️‼️🔥🔥🔥 kind of unhinged to have them all on a playlist but what can i say. i like what i like lol

heres a link to the playlist actually. if you want a glimpse into my sick and twisted mind...... (it should be shuffled but i actually listen to it in alphabetical order because spotify shuffle wants me dead. either way theres no proper order to it lol)

[kisses4tom]

Sooo, since we got Uncle Billy do we now get GirlDad!Tom ?? I’ve looked high and low for a Tom X Reader family story😂😭 your writing is amazing <3

ᡣ𐭩 DADDY TOM

───────────────

YAYY FINALLY SOMEONE REQUESTED THIS!! 😭 I've been dying to write something like this since I have already made an uncle tommy hc! and thank you so much ml 💕

I think we can ALL collectively agree that Tom would be the BEST girl dad, right? 🌚 so the baby will be a little girl!

also I'm gonna make this a teen pregnancy (18), so from the very start up til now!

───────────────

when he finds out he would probably freeze for a moment before finally reacting (gotta soak it in yk)

he would be happy but shocked and confused at the same time

scared not to be present enough because of tour and the band

he would always kiss and touch your stomach

he'd cry when hearing the baby's heartbeat to the doctor 🥹🫶🏻

"I want the baby to be healthy, but if I had to guess I think it's a boy" (he 100% wants a girl)

idk I feel like he would call the baby "kleine Prinzessin" (little princess) or "kleiner Soldat" (little soldier) !!

when you go into labor he tries to keep his cool but deep down he's in full panic mode

the first time he met/held her it was like love at first sight for him even if he didn't quite know how to act since he never really had any past experiences with babies

he's very careful and gentle with her

always holding her

he would attack her with tickles to hear her little laugh

kiss attacks also

playing with her all the time

he wouldn't essentially spoil her (that's uncle Billy's job 😉) but he definitely gets her most things because he can't say no to that little face!

likes holding and showing her around: "look who's that in the mirror? it's you!"

definitely hiding her from the media

yet he LOVES talking about her in interviews!

though very very VERY rarely he would bring her out on stage and hold her like mf simba when she was about 1/2

his heart is always full whenever she's around

he would kneel down to talk to her‼️😩

always pushing her stroller or carrying her on his shoulders

don't ask me why but he'd get into play fights with her at the dinner table 😭 (especially when she's still learning to talk so she's speaking gibberish 😭)

he loves to take her baths and put fun toys in the tub

finds her extremely adorable in everything she wears

he'd give her his yellow dog plushie‼️😭 currently sobbing

I feel like he would try his best to let the baby's first word be "papa" 😭

when she's older he would start being more himself (so talk about things freely and make dirty jokes all the time)

he's not a regular dad, he's a cool dad! 😏 (please get the reference 😭)

he'd give her the talk 🫢🐝

he would pick her up in weird ways and make her laugh (like upside down etc lmfao 💀)

would let her do his hair but not his make-up

like I said in my uncle Tommy hc, i feel like he would love to play with the toy kitchen for some reason idk 💀

he's the overprotective girl dad FOR SURE (AND ITS THE HOTTEST AND CUTEST THING IN THE WHOLE UNIVERSE)

he'd go down the slide with her 😭

at lunch/dinner he would always sit next to her

looooves when she's at their concerts and would ask Bill to dedicate her a song (especially her favorite)

he'd definitely write her a song too

he would make her try to eat a lemon 😭🍋

it's important to him that she has a good bond with her uncle Bill and the boys too! (uncle Georg and uncle Gustav 🥹)

"Y/n she looks more like me than you, gotta be honest"

he would give her what he didn't have growing up (if you read Bill's book, like I have, you'll know)

he wouldn't let anybody hurt or say anything wrong about her

hype man fr

high-key a very chill and permissive dad

he would make sure she knows her worth and to always be herself, without listening to what others say

always saying that she's the better copy of him

since he had her young, people (maybe even teachers at parent teacher conferences) mistake him for her brother and it's needless to say that he's very flattered while his daughter is just like 😐

they have a great bond

LITTLE FUN FACT‼️ Tom said in his podcast that if he ever has a daughter then his dream is to name her Nala like in the lion king movie 🤭😭 crying rivers rn part 2

your daughter tags along on tours, especially because it's very important for Tom and she loves it (idk if I already said this but oh well lmfaoo)

I have a feeling almost all her friends have a crush on Tom (i know i would 😋)

Tom is such a basic dad istg, he does bbq every sunday

if y'all ever become parents a second time then he would definitely have a happier reaction than the first one, yet he would be scared to take care of two little creatures~

his fans always ask about her during meet and greets and give her little presents, which he appreciates a lot

your daughter is pretty much popular in the entire fanbase you guys have and is considered a "lucky charm" from the band

Tom would give her the longest and most comforting hugs known to mankind

he'd make her a memory book with Bill 😭

and he'd give her some old goodies of his!

like some of his old clothes, hats, glasses etc..

overall he's the best dad and UGHHFHSJENF I cry just thinking about him not having any biological children :(

i hope you enjoyed this !! 💕 (also i apologize for any spelling mistakes but your girl over here is too lazy to re-read 🤪 love y'aaaallll)

[whereismymonsterlover]

His Butler, Playing

Yapping under the cut

Hello all, I'm back with another obscure black butler piece. I love love love the theatrics of demonology and the funny ways we humans like to represent them in art and I LOOOOVE the art and aesthetics of 14th century Europe and my Pinterest is chock full of those weird illustrations you find in books of hours (medieval European prayer books). I found one in particular that I fell in love with.

She has an amazingly devious expression on her face. It feels like she's playing to distract from her monstrous lower half hidden under her skirt. She's grinning like she's tricked the audience, blind to her ~ true nature ~. It's such a playfully demonic drawing in essence and it felt so fitting for my favourite demon Sebastian, hiding amongst society in the 14th century and servicing humans with his distracting song as he hunts. I've been itching to draw 1) monsters 2) medieval style art 3) Sebastian as a classic goatish demon so marrying those together was so fun.

It is incredibly freeing to draw in this style because NOTHING is anatomically correct and there's no pressure for it to look "perfect". I don't have an established style myself so it's nice to be given a rule book that doesn't require too much accuracy of form because that would dampen the whimsy and aesthetic! No shade to the original illustrator of this piece, I hope they know I adore their artwork (they are long dead but still). The hardest bit was simulating the dirty textures of the crumby old paper and ink and I think I did a good job! He looks like he's embedded in the page rather than staged on top of it which I'm very happy with, especially for how sanitary digital art can look. Seb's "shadow goo" is so difficult, Yana has such a specific catalogue of shapes she uses to draw with that do not come naturally lol. Finally, Seb's lovely outfit is ripped from his silly shakespearean theatre costume in that one OVA episode where they perform Hamlet. That fucking episode is everything to me, as you can imagine. Sebastian is such an evil bastard in it, too...

Also I thought this over the top colouring looked cool 💀🤧

[krispycreamcake]

Kanato Sakamaki bf headcanons𖤐𖤐

🧸- This is so random and probably not the best way to start things off, but he frequently dresses your hair

🧸- It literally doesn't matter if you're male or female or even a woolly mamoth, you're never seeing the inside of a salon/barber again

🧸- While it's generally fun for him to do his s/o hair, he also uses it to his advantage to essentially groom you to his likings and preferences (no not that kind of groom get out)

🧸- If you have a stuffed animal or a collection of the sort, they will be invited to his tea parties and he'll even teach you how to sew little outfits for them

🧸- Honestly as childish as Kanato is, I think the reason he acts like this is because he feels emotions very intensely

🧸- I have a similar issue and people will often undermine it as just having a "dramatic" or "childish" personality, when in reality the poor guy just feels things 10x more than your average Joe

🧸- And because of this, I think one of the main issues that'll present themselves in your relationship is that you might unknowingly hurt his feelings

🧸- Let me elaborate. Basically calling him "cute" for making a mistake, or let's say even just brushing off his tantrums by saying "that's just how he acts and I'll need to get used to it" is essentially babying him

🧸- The uh easiest way to fix this would be by letting him know you're there for him and ready to work at whatever the issue is, together

🧸- Ok I lied, it's not going to be easy when it comes to Kanato or any diaboy honestly, but I promise you it'll be worth it

🧸- Treat him like his own person while still retaining your compassion and sympathy for him and you'll be rewarded immensely in your relationship

🧸- In my opinion, Kanato seems like his love language is gift giving and quality time

🧸- Now I'm not saying you have to spend a pound and a crown to get him the fanciest Dubai chocolate or crumbl cookie box, I'm talking on a sentimental value level

🧸- So for example, he mentioned how he needed a new hat for teddy but couldn't find one that was right for him, what you would do in that scenario is go on YouTube, look up a tutorial on how to make shit with felt, fail like once or twice and THEN give him the gift of his lifetime

🧸- Now let's say you aren't the artsy type, pay attention to his wants and likes and even if it's a tiny cute little keychain from the dollar store, once he likes it, he'll cherish it forever

🧸- Ok I realized that I'm talking a loooot about the whole gift giving thing, so I'll just write a bit on quality time to even things out

🧸- Graveyard picnic dates, watching the stars on top the roof, 90s horror film night, you reading to him something from the Grimm Brothers, tea parties in the dungeon

🧸- When thinking Kanato, think "wow this is kinda fucked up but it strangely doesn't feel that way when I'm with this person"

🧸- I'm so dumb, I talked about his love language and didn't mention what he'd do for YOU💀

🧸- Well for starters, he's the type of guy to not say I love you a lot but instead write you songs and serenade you

🧸- Clothes galore with this guy. He's always making or buying some kind of outfit for you

🧸- If he knows you like a certain collection of an item (ie. Books, tea sets, stuffed animals, dolls) he'll get them for you, trust

🧸- He LOVES going bone hunting with you, literally loves it so much

🧸- Date night is a regular Friday night occurrence so do NOT miss it

🧸- Oh right, his favourite time of the year is Halloween and he LOOOOVES making you do creepy couple costumes, baking fall/halloween themed cookies with you, carving pumpkins. It's especially his favourite time of the year to take long strolls through the cemetery

🧸- He loves tracing the veins on your wrist with his nails

🧸- Speaking of nails, I imagine he has medium length nails and keeps them rounded but just a tad bit sharp and he likes to pierce your flesh with them if he's in the mood

🧸- Do you know that whole "would you still love me if I was a worm?" Thing? Yeah, that's him but replace worm with decomposing corpse that has lost all its beauty

🧸- His favourite spots to bite you are your lips and your hips

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

ೃ༄ willow 🍂

about : being in a relationship w charlie head canon dump!!

warnings : gn!reader, i go on for a while LOLLL

author’s note : he has been plaguing my mind, i have so many thoughts about him RAAAAAAGHHH somebody sedate me. ALSOOO i was listening to willow by taylor swift while writing this ( hence the title ) that song is sooo charlie

- no matter how long y’all have been together, he’ll always be flirty with you. he’ll compliment you all the time. they’re always genuine though, no matter how dirty they may be sometimes ;)

- he loves you and he’ll make sure you know it!!

- i like to think he’s clingy with you. like secretly. if you’re cuddling he will not let you get up. or at least will be very reluctant to let you go

- especiallyyyy when he’s tired. if y’all are napping together and you need to get up for any reason it’s going to be very difficult to get out of his grasp

- he will definitely ask to cuddle for “five more minutes” with you in the morning

- that five minutes often turns into twenty. or even longer when he’s especially tired

- i love the thought of you comforting charlie sosososoos much. him letting himself be vulnerable around you because he trusts you sm <33

- he always acts confident and outgoing around others, but he’s just a boy, he has his moments too

- he does his best to comfort you when you’re upset, although he isn’t always sure how to and just ends up distracting you, but in a good way. he gets your thoughts off of whatever is bothering you

- if you return the favor he’ll appreciate you more than anything. he rarely lets people see the real side of him. he’s vulnerable around you because he loves you so much

- you’re the one person he feels like he can be himself around. his true self

- he drops the nuwanda act when he’s alone with you. he’s still confident and outspoken, but he has his moments where he’s softer, quieter.

- it takes him some time to get to the point where he’s comfortable being vulnerable around you, but once he is, you’ll be his person, you know?

- when you don’t make fun of him for being more emotional with you, he knows he can trust you

- that doesn’t mean he won’t play the nuwanda act around you because he definitely will, especially when he’s around his friends or others

- he’s biiiiig on pda. he loves it, or more specifically, loves you. you’re his and he’s yours and he wants the world to know

- he always has a hand on you. either holding your own, on your waist, thigh, shoulder, or wherever, he just likes touching you in some way

- will kiss you in public, anywhere, anytime, no problem. hugs too, of course

- only if you’re okay with it though!! if you don’t like pda he’ll try his best to tone it down a bit <33

- he’ll opt for holding your hand under the table or having his leg or shoulder touch yours while you sit together. smaller touches that still mean the world to him

- hand in your back pocket while you’re walking together. that’s it, that’s the thought

- he’s a big kisser. i just think he loves kissing

- his favorite place to kiss you is on the lips, but he also loves kissing your forehead, cheeks, neck, and hands

- he likes it when you kiss his nose and lips

- plays the saxophone for you!!!

- he’ll learn any song you request, and will compose original ones for you

- he’ll invite you to dead poets meetings in the cave, and he gets excited when you agree to go

- writes poems for you of course!!! they’ll range from silly flirty ones to sickly sweet love confessions

- if you ever write poetry for him he’ll keep every piece of it. he’ll hide it away somewhere and he definitely rereads them often

- he’s definitely stubborn

- once you start dating you’re his designated study buddy whether you like it or not

- he looooves joking around with you, and if you’re okay with it he’ll love play fighting

- he’s just so boyfriend AUHGHHHFHDHD

[sinnoman]

The Dummy's Dummy

Once again, possessed by the spirit of Macaron (is that their ship name?) I have dumped 5773 words into a google docs and created a fic dedicated to Mammon and Barbatos.

Please sit back and enjoy how stupid these two are... stupid in loooove~

This is cross-posted on my ao3 which I will link here if you prefer to read long fics there.

Summary:

Mammon, although everyone liked to make fun of his intelligence, was somewhat sensible. He was able to mate for life! Although his mate doesn't exactly know it. No matter, he's sure Barbatos will get the hint someday.

Or alternatively,

Mammon unbeknownst to Barbatos, has mated him. Barbatos learns the crucial lesson of being mated to a crow and how to fall in love with Mammon all the same.

— 

It begins with a song. 

Mammon is surprised to hear a slow clap after he finishes singing. Whipping around, Mammon watches as Barbatos descends the steps of the house and enters the planetarium of the House of Lamentation. The royal steward gives him a small smile and Mammon can feel the heat rush up to his cheeks. Most of it was from embarrassment but a bit of it was flush from the praise he received. 

He doesn’t know why Barbatos was even in his home. Barbatos doesn’t visit often. When he does it’s usually because Lord Diavolo had demanded a change of scenery and wants to hole himself with Lucifer in his brother’s office. Even then Barbatos is often glued to Diavolo’s side tending to his every need as it’s required of him. 

“I did not know you possessed such a voice, Mammon,” Barbatos says smoothly. Mammon can feel his heart beat a pace too fast in his ears. “It was beautiful.” 

Mammon, who feels his brain and nervous system shut down, stands in silence as he stares down Barbatos with a shovel and plant nutrient in his hands. The praise does far too much for how vague it was but Mammon is sure it is not entirely his fault. Relying on instinct alone, he tries his best to make sense of the situation. 

Singing is a vulnerable language for him. Singing carried depth for him unlike how little meaning it has for everyone else. Depending on how he sang, it was very important that he received appropriate recognition for his performance. The last time he sang was to lull Belphie to sleep when he was sick with devil flu. Mammon had been singing this time to the plants in hopes they’d grow steadfast without any problems.

So when Barbatos praises his singing, the small thought of “mate?” that rings in his head makes Mammon consider the steward. 

Barbatos is about the same height as him, only an inch taller. He’s slim, but he makes up for it with amazing posture and honed skills in other areas. Mammon’s sure, from what he’s seen from Barbatos’ bare hands when the steward washes dishes, that Barbatos was well-toned. Under a faux golden moon and diamond stars, Mammon can almost imagine a life of both of them together. 

Yes, Barbatos will do. 

It takes him two whole minutes of standing in awkward silence to process the words before he flushes completely red. “Oh. T-Thanks.” He managed to stumble out. 

Scratching the back of his neck, Mammon lowers his head a bit to hide his face before looking at Barbatos, “Would you like to hear another song?” Mammon whispers as if anyone could hear them. 

Barbatos nods and gives him a look of expectancy. Mammon bends down, placing his shovel and spray bottle down, and slowly walks over to Barbatos closing the gap between them as best as he can without making Barbatos uncomfortable. 

Fiddling with his fingers, Mammon takes a deep breath before he starts to sing softly. This time, it’s not a song with words but rather a tune that Mammon forms precisely just for Barbatos. The melody conceals coos and clicks, as customary of a courting song. Once he’s done, Barbatos claps once again and Mammon feels giddy all over. He’s done it. He’s succeeded in mating with Barbatos. 

“Well done once again, Mammon.” Barbatos praises, putting his arms down once he finishes clapping. “Before I forget, Lucifer is looking for you. I believe you told him you would help him understand a banking transaction.” Barbatos informs him, turning to walk away. 

A clicking sound causes Barbatos to pause before turning back to Mammon. “Did you hear that?” 

“Must be the telescope.” 

— 

In the late hour of the night, after he frees himself from hanging from the ceiling, Mammon shakes Lucifer awake. 

Discombobulated, with spit running down his cheek, Lucifer’s eyes blink one after the other as he sits up looking at Mammon with the hardest look. But Mammon couldn’t care less. 

“I did it, Luci,” Mammon whispers excitedly. 

Groaning, Lucifer runs his face, “What have you done?” 

“I found a mate,” Mammon tells him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking back and forth. 

“Excuse me?” 

—

Mammon spends the next two weeks embroidering black silk gloves with thread mixed with hues of green and blue. While his sin and instinct urge him to quit wasting time on this one thing and hurry to present many valuable items to his mate, Mammon takes the time to craft his gift to perfection. 

Of course, no matter how much his brothers make fun, Mammon isn’t entirely stupid. It would be taking Barbatos for granted if he didn’t uphold his side of the relationship. So, like a good mate would, he sent his crows to drop off smaller gifts for him. His last gift was a tea bag worth half of what he got paid for his last modeling gig. Sure, it wasn’t anything valuable but his closest familiar (that he named Luce, after Lucifer) said Barbatos did not have it in his cabinet of tea. 

And who is Mammon to deny his mate what he loves?

When he is ready to give Barbatos his gift, he catches him in a partially secluded area of R.A.D. 

“Did you commission this?” Barbatos asks, hands tracing the stitching in awe. There is not a stitch out of place and every teal stitching is practically symmetrical down to the curls of its design. “Or..?” 

“I embroidered the teal parts of the gloves,” Mammon says looking away with a blush. “S-Sorry I gave it t’ya late. Embroidery takes time.” There’s silence as Barbatos fiddles with the fabric in between his fingers. He aimlessly watches as Mammon also begins to fiddle with his fingers as they both linger in the awkward silence between them. But Mammon, as his reputation prevails, is quick to break it. “I noticed yer white gloves get dirty easily. These would be better, right?” 

The hallway they were standing in was practically empty unless you counted the few lower demons who were rushing to get to class before the final bell. A small part of Barbatos, the most logical part, wants to give it back to him. If Mammon had truly meant to give him this gift he would have done so at a better time. Causing him to be late to class is nothing but a hindrance to him and his perfect attendance. But the bigger portion is grateful for it. 

“It would… This is extremely thoughtful, Mammon. Thank you.” Barbatos says, giving him a saccharine smile. 

Another click leaves Mammon’s mouth, causing him to slam his hand over his mouth. 

Barbatos’ eyebrows furrow as he makes the connection, “That clicking sound. Are you the one making it?” 

Mammon blushes hard. “I can’t help it.”  

“What is it?” Barbatos asks, a bit curious. He really should be going now. 

“An angel trait thing. It’s supposed to mimic chirpin’ but since I’m a demon it mimics the clicking of crows.” Mammon explains, not looking Barbatos in the eye. 

“It’s cute,” Is the only thing that Barbatos says as he walks away from Mammon toward his designated classroom. 

The sound of clicking echoes in the hallway before the final bell. 

—

There’s a chair in the middle of his room. 

Barbatos immediately pauses once he sees it. It stands out as Barbatos rarely kept any furniture in his room of many doors. With red mahogany wood, the chair is polished to the point where Barbatos can see his reflection. The golden cushion of the chair is plump enough to deem it comfortable to sit in. And while Barbatos does like the aesthetic, it makes him panic. 

Someone was in his room. 

Taking a few steps towards the chair, Barbatos uses his magic to check for any curses or hexes placed on it. He finds none. Looking around, Barbatos can’t see anything suspicious that has changed about his room. Keeping it in mind, he moves on with his day. 

Coming back to his room, he finds more furniture. This time, there’s a rug, a couch, and a bed fully covered in sheets and pillows. Barbatos notices the shiny theme that the furniture all share. Nothing important of his is missing but rather is moved around to make space for the added furniture. 

The culprit shows himself as he drags a bureau into the room. Barbatos watches, mouth slightly open at the audacity Mammon has to come and redecorate his room. 

“What are you doing?” Barbatos snaps, making Mammon pause his antics and look at him. 

Mammon gives him a toothy smile, “Putting furniture into the room.” 

“Mammon,” Barbatos says exasperated. “You cannot furnish my room without my permission. Take it out.” 

“H-Huh?” Mammon gives him a look full of hurt and Barbatos is nearly on his last nerve. In what timeline would Mammon care so much about the state of his room when Mammon has his own. 

“Take. The furniture. Out.” Barbatos emphasizes, watching Mammon bite his lip as a whimper escapes him. 

“Okay.” 

And Mammon does remove all the furniture from his room by the end of the day. 

He also doesn’t see Mammon for the rest of the week. 

—

“No matter how many times I perform a correction spell, my eyes still end up needing glasses,” Solomon said irritated, his eyes squinting at the paper as he leaned closer to it. In his hands was a packet of evaluations that were going to be discussed at the R.A.D. meeting this afternoon. Barbatos can’t help but chuckle at the banter in front of him. The man had a whole week before going over this packet but, Solomon wasn’t known to do things the moment it was presented to him. 

Simeon hums, “Try pulling the paper away from your face.” He placed his teacup down on its appropriate plate. 

“I tried that!” Solomon exclaims, slamming the packet on the table before he pushes it away. Crossing his arms, he pouted leaning back in his chair. “Do I really need to read this evaluation? It’s not like Lucifer is going to pick at my brain for the information.” 

“What if he asks you questions?” Simeon countered, a playful grin on his face. 

Solomon caught Simeon’s glance, “It’s Lucifer. Chances are he’d end up making the entire meeting just himself talking.” Solomon’s lips flatten into a straight line. “He won’t notice.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence and a small smile fell onto Barbatos’s face. It wasn’t the first time the residents of Purgatory Hall came a few moments early to a RAD meeting. Like his master, Barbatos enjoyed watching the relationship between all of them grow. It was nice to see how awkward small talk could develop to childish quarrels. 

Barbatos places his cup of tea down before clearing his throat. “Simeon, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” The angel perks up at the sound of his name. “Are angels similar to birds?” 

Simeon nearly choked on his tea. “W-What? What brought this on?” 

“Just humor me for a bit,” Barbatos responds, not exactly wanting to dwell on his experience with Mammon. He considered that Mammon’s actions were based on angel habits that he couldn’t quite shake off despite being a demon for centuries now. “Are there certain things that angels do that are similar to birds? Perhaps gifting? Collecting and gathering?” Barbatos says, trailing off once he sees the flabbergasted expression on Simeon’s face. 

It only takes a second but Simeon is quick to answer him, “Any behavior that a bird has, us angels had it first!” He corrects, finishing the rest of the tea.

Beside him, Solomon laughs. “They’re pretty much the same species, Barbatos. You don’t know how many times I’ve caught Simeon and Luke bringing in blankets just to cover the ones they already have on the couch in Purgatory Hall.” He informs smugly, dodging Simeon’s hands as the angel tries to shut him up. 

“Nesting is essential, Solomon.” Simeon huffs. Pouring more tea into his cup, Simeon sucks his teeth, “There is nothing wrong with a comfortable home.” 

“So it isn’t unusual for angels to… nest as you put it,” Barbatos confirms, his mind wandering off to his interaction with Mammon. If Mammon was nesting, why in his room? 

Simeon hums, “Well it depends on the stage of the nest. When either Luke or I bring in new things like blankets it’s for maintenance of the nest we already made. In the beginning stage, we bring in things like—“

“—furniture.” Barbatos interrupts catching Simeon and Solomon by surprise. 

Nodding, Simeon continues, “Well yes, but it ultimately it depends on the angel. Some angels like comfortable things, or colorful things, or even—“

“—shiny things.” Barbatos finishes, almost breathlessly. He looks down at his cup, tracing the rim of it with a gloved finger. He then lifts his head, “Is there a specific reason for one to nest?” Barbatos asks, sounding a little more urgent than he would like. 

Simeon simply shrugs, “Not every angel nests, and not every angel has a reason to nest. I nest because Luke is still a fledging and he needs a safe space or else his development will suffer. However, there are other reasons an angel might nest. For comfort, protection, or to show off.” Simeon finishes, going to take a bite of the dessert Barbatos had made for the meeting. 

“Show off?” Solomon echoes in confusion. “Show off for what?” 

“For who,” Simeon corrects after swallowing his sweet. “Some angels build nests to court other angels.” He informs as if it were common sense. 

Solomon’s face contorts to a shit-eating expression. “Have you ever tried to show off for me?” He says as sweetly as possible. Simeon rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t you have seven hundred wives? Can’t you flirt with one of them?” 

The residents of Purgatory Hall continue to bicker back and forth but Barbatos tunes them out. Simeon’s words repeat in his head over and over again. Courting? Mammon has been courting him this entire time? With a sense of dread, Barbatos goes to stand. 

He has made a grievous and heartless error. And he must fix it immediately. 

— 

When he finds Mammon, the Second-Born hands him a random bottle of wine that he accepts gracefully. 

“When you were bringing furniture into my room, Mammon. Were you nesting?” Barbatos asks bluntly. He watches as the Avatar of Greed stiffens at his words and nods slowly. 

“But ya didn’t like it,” Mammon whispers sadly. A small sad trilling noise escapes him and it pulls at Barbatos’ heartstrings despite him not showing it. 

“I didn’t know,” Barbatos whispers back. “I didn’t know you were courting me.” If he had, he would have at least let Mammon down gently. 

“I wasn’t courting you,” Mammon states, slightly annoyed. Barbatos’ head is practically reeling at his words. None of Mammon’s behavior has made sense and the little bit of information he was able to gain just appeared to be useless. 

“Ah,” Barbatos responds, unsure of what to say next. 

“We’re already mated,” Mammon informs him.

“Oh.” 

—

Being Mammon’s mate is… something. 

Mammon had explained that Barbatos complimenting his singing was in fact Barbatos agreeing to a relationship with him. How those two very separate things correlate with one another Barbatos isn’t sure. What he does understand is that it is frankly dumb. 

He expected much more attention and disturbance in his day-to-day routine. Furthermore, he expected this whole courting and mating thing not to last long due to arguing on his part but surprisingly none of that happened to be true. What ended up happening was Mammon treating Barbatos as if they weren’t mated. Nothing truly changed except the weekly gift-giving that Mammon said was absolutely necessary whether he liked it or not. When Barbatos brings it up, Mammon is able to explain. 

“Y’don’t like PDA. I’m okay with taking things at your pace.” They’re hushed away in a corner of the ballroom, watching as everyone celebrates the current event of the season. Mammon stands close to him, but not too close to draw any suspicion to either of them. 

Barbatos frowns, “I feel guilty. As if I have led you on.” He does genuinely feel bad. Mammon has devoted his time to planning each and every second he spends with Barbatos. If he cannot see him, Mammon makes sure to spoil Barbatos with thoughtful gifts such as the gloves he wears tonight. 

And here Barbatos is, not reciprocating anything in return. 

Mammon shakes his head, “Yer not. I’m not expecting anything special. I already know ya like me back.” 

His words make him freeze. “W-what? Mammon, when have I told you that I reciprocated your feelings?” Barbatos’ questions, eyes flickering between him and the guest of tonight who seemed too busy distracted by Lucifer and Diavolo dancing the night away. 

“Ya don’t have ta. I can see it through yer actions. Like when ya compliment my choice of gifts, or when ya let me put my nest back. If ya didn’t like me, wouldn’t have let me do that. You don’t let things like that carry on for long.” Mammon explains, raising his hands to clap when everyone else does. 

Barbatos follows suit, not caring what is going on publicly. Remaining silent, he thought hard about it. What he thought was being a good samaritan, apparently wasn’t clearly translated to Mammon. While he had let Mammon put his nest back and continue his bird mating habits, it was simply because he did not have the heart to shut Mammon’s shenanigans down. 

But now that he really looked at it from Mammon’s perspective, did he truly have feelings for Mammon? 

“We could start small.” Mammon continues, his eyes averted from the dance floor and linger on Barbatos. “In private, I mean. Hand holding, hugs, we could practice touching until yer comfortable to do it in public.” 

Barbatos feels like he’s suffering from whiplash. How has this conversation gone from explanations to talks of progressing their romantic relationship that he has just been made aware of? 

But instead of saying no or even breaking up with Mammon, Barbatos lets his curiosity get the best of him and nods. 

“Okay.” 

—

In the privacy of Barbatos’ room, Barbatos and Mammon sit crisscrossed in front of one another. They’ve been sitting on the rug that Mammon had put back in his room for about half an hour now and Barbatos thinks he should probably say something before it becomes too late to do anything. 

“Mammon, do you want to try holding hands?” Barbatos asks softly. 

Mammon hums, chuckling a bit, “I wanna do more than hold hands, sweetheart.” But despite the sexual innuendo in his words, Mammon blushes. “But yeah, we can hold hands if ya want.” 

Shuffling on his knees, Mammon moves closer to Barbatos until their knees are touching. Slowly, he grabs Barbatos’ wrist with one hand, and with the other, he digs a finger underneath the cuff of the gloves he gifted the older demon. Steady, he slides the glove off and watches as the fabric falls onto the carpet with a plop. 

Although it is simply Mammon taking off his glove, Barbatos can’t help but think about how lewd that was just now. With the way Mammon practically undressed his hand, Barbatos sure that if anything serious were to happen he wouldn’t last very long. 

Mammon grabs his bare hand with his and holds it firmly. “Is this okay?” 

Not trusting his voice, Barbatos nods. Mammon nods as well and then focuses back to their hands. Shifting his hand, Mammon goes to intertwining their fingers, holding his palm firm with his. 

“Is this okay?” Mammon whispers, red sitting pretty on his cheeks. Barbatos would tease him about it but he’s sure he is just as red as he is. Whatever composer he had left has been long gone. 

Barbatos nods vigorously, “It is more than okay.” He whispers back. 

They hold hands for what seems too short of a moment between them. The constant cheering and laughter coming from the ballroom seems to remind them that they should probably return to the festivities of the night. Neither of them makes the move to leave though. 

“So did’ya figure it out?” Mammon asks after a while of them sitting in silence. “That ya like me?” 

The words leave Barbatos before he can even think about it. “May I kiss you?” 

Mammon’s eyes widen and he pulls back from their space but he relaxes with the softest smile on his face. As gentle as a midnight breeze, Mammon places the quickest peck on Barbatos’ lips. 

In awe, Barbatos watches Mammon sit back with a grin. “Another one?” Barbatos asks. 

Mammon scoffs playfully before rolling his eyes. He raises himself on his knees once more and leans into Barbatos’ space and places another kiss on his lips. This time it’s a bit more of everything. A bit longer, a bit more passionate. 

A bit too short for Barbatos’ liking when Mammon pulls away. Barbatos, gripping Mammon a bit tighter, damn near whines. “Again?” 

“You could kiss me as much as you want, Barbatos.” Mammon smiled, “It’s practice.” 

It’s all the confirmation he needs to pull Mammon down with him and lock him in place. Taking one hand to hold Mammon’s chin, Barbatos presses his lips to Mammon’s. Instead of pulling away, Barbatos does the opposite and deepens the kiss further. 

He only parts from Mammon once he hears another round of cheering coming from the ballroom. “We… should head back Mammon,” Barbatos states, taking in Mammon as he fails to cover the flush in his face. 

This is ridiculous, absolutely stupid. He shouldn’t be entertaining any bit of this but instead going to stand he continues to do everything but go back to the party. He holds Mammon’s cheek and lightly plants kisses along his jaw before moving up to his cheek and then relatching to his lips. 

Mammon calls it “practice” but Barbatos doesn’t understand what they’re practicing for. It’s now Saturday morning and they’ve spent the last five hours of the night glued to one another just kissing. 

Their current position was rather promiscuous. Moving to the bed, Barbatos hovers over Mammon, his thighs spreading Mammon’s legs apart as Barbatos lays on top of him. One of Barbatos’ hands rests behind Mammon’s neck and his arm is curled under Mammon’s back holding him close. Mammon doesn’t lock Barbatos down with his ankles but does let his fingers run through green locks of hair. The most memorable part of their position was the kissing. 

Barbatos’ lips have come across every inch of Mammon’s face and neck by now. The only time Barbatos has parted from Mammon for more than 30 seconds was to change them both into something more comfortable. 

Even now, as Barbatos pushes their bodies together, tongue slipping past Mammon’s lips, groaning at the way Mammon moans into his mouth, all he can think about is how he wants to continue this until he has to get up to ready the castle that was supposed to be serviced an hour ago. 

Barbatos pulls away, looking down at Mammon who smiles back at him. The clicking sound comes back along with a few happy-sounding trills and it pulls a smile out of Barbatos. Pushing away the hair that has stuck to Mammon’s forehead, Barbatos gives him one more peck on his puffy lips before moving completely off of him. 

Panting, Barbatos watches as Mammon huffs along with him as he sits up. “This was not at all what you meant by touching was it?” Barbatos laughs breathlessly. 

Mammon laughs with him, “Nope! But s’greatly accepted.” He chirps, trilling away in the comfort of the pillows he bought for Barbatos. Barbatos’ lips twitch upwards at the sight. Mammon slowly blinks desperately trying to stay awake. With his hair a mess and clothes all wrinkled Barbatos can’t help but coo at the sight of him. 

He had to admit Mammon did look adorable. 

“I am extremely late for work.” Barbatos mumbles, picking up his D.D.D. and looking at the time. The countless messages from Diavolo and even some from Lucifer scold him for his lack of attention to his position. 

“Ya didn’t sleep,” Mammon tells him. Lazily, Mammon pulls the comforter down and shuffles over making space for Barbatos. He pats the spot beside him. 

“I have a job that I am committed to, Mammon,” Barbatos responds. He hopes that Mammon does not begin to argue with him about it. He’s always known that Barbatos was a busy demon. The time demon was not going to change his ways simply because Mammon had imprinted on him or whatever it was he’d convinced himself of. 

“I never said yer weren’t committed,” Mammon whispers. “But ya can’t be the best if yer fallin’ asleep on the job. Come lay down.” He orders gently. 

Pulling all-nighters is nothing unusual for him, but with the way Mammon opens his arms for him inviting him for a cuddle he can’t help but let the tired wash over him. As he crawls through the wrinkled mess of sheets and curls up in Mammon’s arms, he can hear the left and right sides of his brain argue over the decision. 

A quick text of not feeling well is sent to Diavolo before his phone is thrown aside. 

As he contemplates the past ten hours of his life, Barbatos allows the soothing melody of Mammon’s voice to lull him to sleep. 

— 

Mammon turns out to be a distraction. 

The week rolls by before Barbatos knows it and although it is completely peaceful, the itching of his greed gets the best of him. There’s a slight decrease in effort to perform his duties as steward as perfectly as possible, his attention in class cannot be accounted for, and there is a lack of care for anyone speaking directly to him other than his mate-sorta-not-mate. In short, Barbatos is a mess. 

He supposes that it is somewhat his own fault. Barbatos never truly let his greed run rampant as long as it has now. Whatever item caught his eye was quickly retrieved whether it was from this timeline or another. His greed was almost always sated immediately. He’s never experienced deprivation like other greed demons have. 

And unfortunately the apple of his eye this time happens to be Mammon. 

He’s all Barbatos thinks about as of late. What Mammon might be doing? Is he causing trouble or was he relaxing? Is he currently suffering from one of Lucifer’s punishments? Has he eaten? Would Mammon like his baked goods? Should he try preparing spicy foods? Would Mammon prefer a dish made by him? Does Mammon miss him? Is Mammon thinking of him? 

Dear all things sinful, this was getting pathetic. 

But the more he thinks about Mammon, the more he wants to be near him, holding him, kissing him—

The kitchen door bursts open and surprise, surprise Mammon strides in with a giddy look once he spots him. “I’m not here for long, I promise.” He says, practically skipping over to him. 

He pulls out a goodie bag and slides it to him over the counter. His fingers pat the edge of the kitchen counter excitedly as he watches Barbatos open the goodie bag and a smile forms on his face. 

“Ya like?” Mammon asks, desperately waiting for Barbatos’ approval. 

Barbatos hums, “I do, Mammon. Thank you. But may I pry, where do you get these? Some of these tea bags are not in season.” The last thing he wants is to be enjoying tea that has been stolen. 

Mammon gloats in the praise, “Haha, of course, ya like it. I am the Great Mammon and my gifts are the best!” He says. He pauses once he’s realized that he’s been asked a question. “Oh. I go down to the ports. One of the lower demons gives them to me in exchange for free labor.” 

Barbatos pauses before giving Mammon a disbelieving look. Not only because Mammon is doing manual labor just to bring Barbatos four tea bags that will soon be put on a shelf.

But because there’s some lower, not worth mentioning moron, is giving things to Mammon. His mate-positively-sure-mate! 

Just like that, a flare of Greed overwhelms them both, and Mammon’s lips split into a shit-eating grin. “Are ya jealous?” 

“I am not.” Barbatos lies. Mammon disregards his words as he walks away giggling but not before letting Barbatos kiss him. 

If the lower demon down at the port randomly goes missing, Mammon doesn’t say anything. 

—

Barbatos figures that he doesn’t really like Mammon, he just likes playing his role as the Avatar’s mate. 

Simeon tells him otherwise during their weekly tea. Luckily for him, Solomon is too busy bothering Asmodeus after being nagged by Simeon for shamelessly flirting with anyone in sight. When Barbatos catches him up Simeon’s jaw drops. 

“That’s why you asked me all those questions?” Simeon said, a happy glint in his eyes. “Who would have guessed you and Mammon?” 

“It is not as if I like him, Simeon,” Barbatos says, taking a sip of his tea. 

Simeon scoffs, “You just spent the past half hour telling me how nice it was to kiss Mammon.” He sets his teacup down on its designated plate. “Not to mention you called out sick just to cuddle with him.” 

“Kisses are nice in general,” Barbatos says automatically as if he were reading from a dictionary. He was not even going to address the other part. 

Simeon’s eyes narrow. “Alright, would you kiss Solomon?” He asks cautiously, analyzing the look on Barbatos’ face. 

Barbatos looks disgusted. “Absolutely not.” 

“Why not?” 

There is a beat of silence before Barbatos speaks. 

“Because… he’s not Mammon.” 

— 

When Lucifer stands in front of him arms crossed with a hard look, Barbatos can’t help but feel numb. He had forgotten that if he was dealing with Mammon he was also dealing with Lucifer by extension. To make matters worse, Mammon happens to be Lucifer’s favorite no matter how much the eldest brother denies it. 

“Mammon tells me..” Lucifer begins, unsure how to start the conversation. “That you, the both of you, are involved… romantically.” He finishes. Red eyes look him and down expectingly. 

Barbatos isn’t sure of what to say. To be frank he’s still making sense of the fact that he and Mammon are involved romantically and have been apparently for the past three weeks. 

“We are?” Barbatos says although it comes out more like a question. 

“Are you not sure?” Lucifer asks him. He then sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please do not tell me you have let yourself be coerced into a relationship.” 

“It is only coercion if I am unwilling.” Barbatos mumbles, catching them both by surprise. There’s a pause of silence before Barbatos continues, “He tells me we’re mated.” Barbatos informs him. 

His words were true. After a long consideration of what others might deem make-outs and cuddles, Barbatos came to realize that he did enjoy Mammon’s company. He didn’t hate the idea of being Mammon’s mate at all. 

“And you are okay with that?” Lucifer presses, looking for any sign of displeasure from the royal steward. “Let me illiterate, do you understand what that means?” 

“It means,” Barbatos trails off trying to come up with the words, “that I am involved with a bird.” 

A gargled noise escapes Lucifer. “I just want to make clear that I value you as a friend Barbatos. But I am not above choosing Mammon over you at any point in time.” Lucifer tells him sternly. 

Barbatos ignores the way it sounds more threatening than basic shovel talk. He’s sure that the rest of the brothers will come to him one by one and present him with threats but he will deal with that later. Instead, he hands Lucifer a teacup on top of a matching plate. 

“Yes, yes. Aren’t you a devoted brother,” Barbatos teases before pulling a stool in front of Lucifer and sits down. “Now tell me, will I have to perform a dance or gift your brother a rock?” 

—

The night comes soon enough and Barbatos finds himself being pampered. Mammon suggested that he help get him ready for bed. What Barbatos thought was going to be a quick change of clothes and a tuck into bed turned out to be quick exchanges of kisses and nuzzling. 

Now Mammon has Barbatos sat in a chair as he brushes his hair. Barbatos sits contently, eyes closed, as he indulges in the way the brush softly strokes his scalp. The sounds of soft trills and clicks fill the room. Barbatos pulls away for a second before turning to Mammon, “Is this another of your bird traits?” He asks the younger demon. 

“Uh,” Mammon says, “I dunno. It just feels right. You could see it as preenin’.” 

“Preening,” Barbatos echoes. He summons all the knowledge he’s read about bird behavior on his phone last night and comes up blank. 

“Yeah, but ya don’t have wings so I’m just pamperin’ ya.” Mammon explains simply, going back to brushing Barbatos’ hair. 

“Ah.” Barbatos responds dumbly. He looks at Mammon through the mirror and figures this is an appropriate time to say what he is about to say, “I like you.” 

Mammon freezes, “I know y’do.” 

“I did not say it,” Barbatos tells him a bit sadly, “When you asked me the night of the event.” 

“S’okay,” Mammon smiles at him, “We have the rest of our lives to tell each other we like one another.” 

Barbatos gives him a look of confusion and Mammon kisses his temple, “They didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” 

“That angels' mate for life,” Mammon responds looking Barbatos straight in the eye. “We wouldn’t be mates unless one of us dies.” 

Barbatos, although he should be shocked or angry, isn’t. He simply grabs one of Mammon’s hands and kisses his knuckles. “Good thing we are immortal then.” He says, looking up at Mammon. 

“Yeah,” says Mammon. “And it’s not like we’re in danger.” He adds, giving Barbatos a saccharine stare back. 

“Who knows when we’ll ever be,” Barbatos tells him, dragging Mammon towards the mattress. Once the younger demon is tucked in, Barbatos allows himself to be nuzzled by the trilling fallen angel beside him. “Could be years.” 

“Centuries.” 

“An eternity.” Barbatos finishes. He plants one passionate kiss on Mammon’s lips. 

He’s rather glad that this dummy chose him. 

[heartbreakgrill]

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 7, “i’m drunk in the back of the car and i cried like a baby coming home from the bar. said, ‘I'm fine,’ but it wasn't true.”

a/n: sad, but gets hopeful! one more part after this, i think :)

“i’m glad i never ended up having a party at my house.”

danny fell into step beside y/n, their shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. they had to park all the way down the street from jack’s house because there were so many other people here. because it was so late at night, the air in beacon hills was cool. y/n hugged her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t worn a tank top beneath her jacket. her breath came out like a fog as she spoke.

danny made a face at the thought, “too much work. imagine the clean up.”

“yeah, no thanks,” she shivered.

the music coming from the house ahead of them got louder as they neared it. some popular radio song reverberated in their ears. y/n felt her heart beat in her throat, thumping along to the bass. danny lit up once they reached the door, excited to drink, dance.

he always was the party type. he had so much fun moving to the music, losing himself in the crowd.

on the other hand, there was y/n, who didn’t normally drink at parties. she was a go-to for being the designated driver, choosing to watch out for her friends and play with whatever animal the owner of the house had sniffing around.

tonight, however, she wanted to let loose. needed to, more so.there was nothing better after a heartbreak than getting messy-drunk at a high school party.

it had been a week. a whole week since her and stiles’ fall out. a week since she’d seen his face. sure, she saw his figure in the hallways sometimes, but she would run the other way. he’d start to chase her down, but danny was usually close by and he’d shoot stiles a glaring look. it turned him away. he’d texted her nonstop, called her about a million times. but, after the fourth day, when he realized she just wouldn’t be responding, he stopped. all lines of communication fell out. any hope of fixing what was broken was squashed out.

when y/n thought about it too much, she felt sick. nausea tumbled through her stomach. her head became fuzzy. stupid, naive girl, she’d think to herself. it’s all your fault. so, every single time her mind started to wander, she’d shove her nose into her homework, pick up a shift at work, get so high out of her mind that reality felt like a television show.

tonight, her choice of thought erasure was getting wasted at a high school party.

y/n squeezed her hand around danny’s bicep once they walked in. in response, he kept her close to his side as they wormed through jack’s house, in search of their friend group. eventually, they found leo, megan, jack, and a few others. they were in the kitchen, standing around the island counter. glasses were scattered around the house already, though the party had just started barely an hour or so ago. the group cheered when y/n and danny came through the door, holding up some of the red solo cups.

megan came to y/n’s side, her tipsy stature morphing her usually quiet attitude into something more sentimental. she clutched onto y/n’s arm. she touched y/n’s cheek and gushed over the curls swinging over her shoulders. “i loooove the hair, girl. you look so pretty with it like that. you’re always pretty, though. oh, my god, you know we haven’t hung out in forever and it makes me so sad. please, please say we’ll hang out soon.”

y/n giggled at megan’s state, wrapping a securely protective arm around megan’s waist. “i promise, okay?”

y/n was the first to admit that she’d been so caught up with boys over the last few months. she hadn’t exactly pushed away her friends, but she hadn’t prioritized them, either. she was in her head with her own issues, and didn’t make the time others. it made her feel a little guilty. but, before that feeling could snowball into the depressive heartbreak she’d been plagued with, megan continued.

“what’s new with you? what have you been up to? i hope you’re not still sad about sam. you should know you’re so much fucking better than him. you deserve so much fucking better than him. he’s such a whore. fuck him.”

“no, i’m over that,” y/n said, confidently waving megan off through a giggle. and she was telling the truth. “i’ve just been…hanging out. ya know. working.” her gaze became distant, words slow as stiles’ face flashes through her memories. y/n didn’t say what she had been really doing. it was embarrassing to admit that she’d gotten herself into another shitty situation with a guy.

though, megan squinted her eyes, analyzing her friend’s words. she knew, “oh, no. oh, no, no, no. fucking stilinksi. i fucking knew once danny told us- okay. listen- you don’t even have to say anything, kay? tonight, we’re just gonna have fun. here, jack, pour us some shots!”

y/n couldn’t help but grin in response. there wasn’t time to imagine stiles- to envision his lips ghosting the curve of her skin, to try to remember what it felt like when he’d draw out movement from her body. because, next thing she knew, megan was shoving two to three red solo shot cups into y/n’s hand- all in a row. and y/n didn’t let herself hesitate. she swallowed them easily, ignoring the burn in her throat, her heart, her chest, and head.

jack cracked a smirnoff open for her. danny caught y/n’s eyes as she took a sip and gave her a thumbs up. when she waved him off, he winked, then wandered his way into the living room, where people were dancing. he’d mentioned something about ethan being there. y/n looped her arm through megan’s, pointed in that direction. megan nodded excitedly and pulled them to the makeshift dance floor.

they danced for what felt like hours but, really, was only maybe forty five minutes. jack and leo, avid partiers, continued shoving shots into their friend’s hands, traveling between the bar in the kitchen and the dance floor. y/n losing track of time turned into her losing track of how much she was drinking. one smirnoff turned into numerous empty glasses that she’d abandon on the coffee table beside her.

she had to take her jacket off after a while, sweating too much in the jean material. y/n tossed it, absentmindedly, on the couch. she probably wouldn’t remember it there later. she’d probably have jack in a frenzy, texting everyone tomorrow about random articles of clothing in his living room. she’d probably lose the 20 stuffed into the pocket to some wandering hands. but it didn’t matter.

nothing really mattered. not when her favorite song played, not when megan spun her around, when danny would yell lyrics into her face and ruffle her hair. y/n just kept throwing her head back, giggling like a mad woman.

it didn’t matter. it did not matter to her. the entire, fucked up situation with stiles. it didn’t matter that he had used her, that he had been seeing lydia the whole time. it did not matter that he had kept so many secrets from her. it did not matter that she broke her own rules, that she let him get beneath her skin, that she fell in love with hi

it did not really matter if she loved him.

y/n turned on her heel, dancing around in circles with megan, both girls holding each other’s hands like they were schoolgirls. her hair whipped over her shoulders, in waves behind her back. her eyes couldn’t focus on the blurred, bright lights passing her vision as they spun. the bodies surrounding them turned into smudges against her vision. she couldn’t tell who was who.

but she thought she saw stiles standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clear as day.

y/n stalled in her tracks. she nearly fell over from how quickly she stopped. megan bumped into her shoulder, grabbed y/n’s arm to steady herself.

y/n couldn’t breathe. she squinted her eyes, rubbed at them, smudging her mascara.

her sight cleared and there was nobody there.

megan laughed loudly in y/n’s ear, tugging on her arm, “why’d you stop?! keep going! spin, spin!”

y/n took a deep, shuddering breath, staring at the spot where she had pictured stiles. “i need air,” she mumbled.

megan yelled, “what are you saying?”

y/n pulled her arm out of megan’s, “i’m going outside,” she barely looked at her friend. this is why she didn’t like to drink.

y/n stumbled through the house, being shoved left and right by the sweaty, dancing teenagers suffocating her. she didn’t know when she’d started crying, but her face was slick was tears. she wiped her hands across her cheeks, smearing more mascara and eyeliner, blackening her palms. she couldn’t focus her thoughts, nor did she feel like herself. this is why she didn’t like to drink. because she wasn’t logical, she was out of control.

y/n found the side door, the one that led to jack’s garage, and slammed it shut behind her. once she reached the garage floor, she slowly lowered herself to the bottom step, hugged her knees to her chest. she didn’t know if she was having a panic attack or a full mental breakdown. but she couldn’t breathe. and she just wanted to be sober so she could figure out her shit.

y/n pressed a hand to her chest, hoping the pressure would do something: ground her, snap her back to reality. all she could do was sob, rock back and forth like a baby. as she did so, her phone fell out of her back pocket. somehow, her camera roll was open on the screen. staring up at her. a picture of stiles and winnie was there, taunting her.

y/n didn’t have any inhibitions, too far gone to know what crossed the line of boundaries she’d made when she was sober. so, she picked up her phone, her hands shaking.

and she hit the little telephone next to his contact. she stared at the picture as it rung.

she needed him. she needed him to hold her, bare-naked under his bedsheets, warm against his chest. needed him to rake his fingers through her hair and to kiss her forehead, call her baby again. even just say her name. she’d even pretend, like she did a dozen times, just for him, that she didn’t notice his lips linger there. she’d pretend it never happened.

anything for him. if he wanted her and lydia- that was fine. he could have her. she was his, completely, fully. all of his. every inch of her skin that he had laid eyes, that he had touched his with fingertips, every inch of skin that he had nipped at with his teeth- it was his.

he picked up immediately.

“y/n? oh, my god, i’m so fucking- i’m so sorry. i don’t know what i did-“

“stiles,” she cut him off, voice barely above a whisper.

his tone instantly softened. a soothing one replaced his usually hectic vocal demeanor, “oh, baby.” he knew, from just the smallest whimper barely uttered between her lips, he knew that she didn’t want to fight. she didn’t call to argue. she didn’t call to make up, either. she just called to hear him, to talk to him. she needed him.

she’d never know how much he needed her, too.

his voice, breathy in her ear, sent a shiver down her spine. y/n sniffled, knuckles white on the hand which held her phone. her head lolled down, chin hiding into her chest.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

y/n chewed on her lip for a moment, willing it to stop wobbling, “i mis-“ she stopped herself, jamming a different word onto what she was saying to cover it up, “i mistake. i-um, didn’t mean to call you.

it took him a second to reply, “oh. ok.” he knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t know what else to say. he didn’t want to press her into a conversation she didn’t want to have. but he didn’t want to end the call. he wanted to be whatever she needed in this moment.

they sat there in silence for a good two minutes, not even the sound of their own ragged, anticipatory breaths making any noise in the other’s ear. y/n’s hand was shaking. she loosened her tight grip on her knees and stretched her legs out in front of her. the shift in position helped her breath a little bit better.

she sniffled again, tilted her head back. as she stared at the ceiling, she suddenly laughed. “i didn’t make a fucking mistake, stiles. god, i meant to call you.”

“oh, good,” his tone remained still and flat. he was focused on reading her words. there was meaning between the lines that he couldn’t read. and she was acting strange. he was decoding everything.

“i mean to call you because every single second that i’m not with you, i feel like i’m going to die!” she exclaimed, tossing her other hand in the air.

stiles rubbed his lips together, brows furrowed, “i’m glad that you called.” he, also, felt like he was going to die without her. but, he didn’t know if he should tell.

if only stiles knew that if he would have just told her, honestly, how he felt, as soon as he felt it, months ago, this entire situation could have been avoided. alas, it was a lesson he was still learning.

“good,” y/n huffed. hearing him calmed her down. knowing he was there coaxed her off the edge of anxiety. now, her drunken self took back over her body. and drunk y/n wanted to dance, “okay. i’m going back to the party-“

“party?” stiles interrupted her, his concerned tone back. she was annoyed that he cared where she was at. he didn’t have any right to that feeling- though, also, it made her feel good, that jealousy, that toxicity.

drunk y/n was feeling a lot.

she nodded, though he couldn’t see her, stating matter of factly, “party. i’m at a party, stiles. i’m drunk, and i’m having a blast. well, i was having a blast until you popped into my mind. god, do you know how badly i want to punch you in the face? i just wanna give you, like, a knuckle sandwich, ya know? maybe being hit will make you figure your shit out. okay, whatever. like i was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, i’m going back to the party. i’m going to go dance with my friends-“

stiles had just left the animal clinic, where he, lydia, allison, and scott had met to discuss plans to combat the killer still in beacon hills. chills were lingering on his skin, thinking about all of the photographs stolen from the station, picturing dead students cut at the throat. every time they’d pull another out of the beige manila folder, y/n’s face would appear in his head, attached to a battered, beaten corpse. he’d been worried sick about her the last week, especially since the murderous rampages had slowly spread, closer to home. and, they were more vicious as every day passed. he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t stay outside her house every night, parked in his jeep down the road, barely able to sleep.

her, drunk at a party, was the last situation stiles needed her to be in. it was dangerous. he didn’t want to show up to a crime scene with her corpse lying within a body bag. he couldn’t lose her.

of course, she didn’t know that that was a possible ending to her night. everyone knew about the serial killer, but average citizens of beacon hills didn’t really seem concern themselves with something that seemed so out of reach. teenagers, especially, were naive and vulnerable to things like that.

“who’s with you?” he interceded her words, again. y/n groaned in response and went to complain about how he always did shit like that. but, he spoke again, more firmly this time, “y/n, who’s with you?”

“my friends, just danny, megan, jack, leo. a bunch of other people i don’t know,” she listed off, staring into space. “why do you care?”

“where is it?” stiles demanded. sure, he didn’t have claws, fangs, or anything that would stop a literal supernatural serial killer besides a beat-up baseball ball and his annoying attitude which would eventually drive the creature even more insane. but, he needed to be there. heather had died at a party. the ending scene of a slasher film always happened at a party. parties were breeding grounds for death, as if they were the tenth circle of dante’s inferno or something.

y/n, danny, leo, megan- they were all sitting ducks. targets for something really bad yet to happen.

so, he needed to be there. convince her to leave, if he could. if she wouldn’t leave, he’d stay. he’d stay for her.

anything for her.

y/n hung up on the phone once he said he was on the way. she’d scoffed and said, “yeah, fucking right. danny will beat the shit out of you.”

the beeping tone of a hung up line hit stiles like a truck. he still didn’t quite understand what he had done. if he did, he’d had fixed it by now. he was always good at fixing things. maybe he didn’t have glowing red eyes, or the ability to predict death, but he always was able to fix the jeep. he pulled his dad out of his alcoholic pit after his mom’s death. he was a problem solver. he was good at it.

but, he didn’t what was broken.

tonight, he intended to find out. he didn’t care if danny beat the shit out of him, or if y/n wouldn’t listen. he’d wait for her to open her ears to his incessant bickering, holding an ice pack to whatever bruises danny had left. he knew she’d break eventually.

if she really was done with him, if she really didn’t want to hear him out, why else had she called him?

–

stiles broke about a billion traffic laws. but he managed to get there, quickly, in one piece.

he couldn’t locate y/n anywhere inside the house, but did find all of her friends dancing in the living room. had they been there the whole time? did they even know y/n was on her own? probably not. you’d think, with a serial killer on the loose, they’d care more about each other’s safety.

his jaw dropped at the sight of them, carelessly floating through the crowd while one of their friends was drunk and alone, in some dark corner of this house. it pissed him off, as did all of the people pushing against him, alcohol sloshing over the rims of their cups and onto his shoes, the smell of sweat, and the sight of teenagers making out against walls, doors, other couples.

he had always hated people, but parties reminded him just how much of that hatred existed within his chest.

stiles checked the upstairs bedrooms, bathrooms, called her name out, down the basement steps, peeked into the empty garage, and even looked inside a pantry in case she’d stuffed herself somewhere like that.

stiles was grateful to, eventually, find her, outside, on the edge of the pool. her sneakers and socks were flung into the yard behind her. she swung her bare feet in the chlorinated water, completely soaking the bottoms of her jeans. y/n’s palms were planted on the concrete beside her thighs, her head thrown back, eyes closed as she swayed to the music. she didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

stiles huffed when he saw her, the deep, worried breath rattling in his chest. “y/n,” he said, hoping to garner her attention. his hands flung about him, as they normally did when he spoke.

she didn’t seem to care that he was there, but she definitely heard him. he knew she had because he watched y/n’s shoulders flinch, ever so slightly, at the sound of her own name.

stiles squatted down beside her, curling a soft hand around her bicep, “y/n, hey-“

she pulled her arm away, as if his hand was made of lava. “go away, stiles.” his hand stilled in the air where she’d pushed it, fingers flexing at the rejection.

stiles then pressed the hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut with frustration, impatience. “y/n, please-“

she looked up at him, jaw slack from her drunken state. her eyes looked darkened, the deadly stare enhanced by her ruined makeup. “what the fuck do you want?”

stiles met her eyes. his face softened, concern overwhelmingly her features. just seeing her face, though it was a wreck- it sent goosebumps across his skin. she was so fucking pretty, even though she’d been crying. why had she been crying?

“i want to talk to you-“

“go away,” she waved him off. y/n then pulled her legs from the pool, dripping water all over the concrete. stiles’ eyes moved down her body, ensuring she was in one piece. he noticed the goosebumps all over her bare arms. she was freezing cold.

he stood with her, following her quick feet. “where’s your jacket?” stiles began to pull off his zip up jacket while she grabbed her shoes. he reached out for her arm again. his fingertips on her shoulder felt like a zap of electricity.

y/n flinched away again. she whipped her head back towards him, a deep frown enlisted on her features, “fuck off, stiles! don’t even try pretend like you care about that shit right now! seriously, go the fuck home! i told you not to come!”

stiles took a step away from her. he wished he knew what he had done so fucking badly. he wanted to kiss her eyelids. he wanted to clean off her makeup, wrap her up in his bedsheets, rub circles into her back until she fell asleep, soundly in his hood.

but, all of that couldn’t really be at the forefront of his mind right now. it couldn’t matter. he was here to protect, whether she wanted him there or not. and, she very obviously did not want him at this party. well, too damn bad. he pushed the thoughts aside.

“i’m not going anywhere,” stiles threw his hands up, as if to challenge her. if she wanted him gone, she’d have to drag him out of there. he continued to follow her. she found a chair and sat down in order to put her shoes on. he continued, “look, i don’t know what i did, but you don’t even understand what’s happening in this town. i have to protect-“

“bro, get the fuck away from her!”

stiles felt a pressure against his chest as someone’s abnormally strong had pushed him away from y/n’s presence. she looked up from her shoe laces that she was struggling to tie, brows furrowing at the sound of stiles’ grunt. she watched as stiles stumbled over his feet. he straightened up, quick, and met the eye of his assailant.

“oh, fuck off, dude,” stiles tilted his head to the side, slowly shaking it in annoyance. his jaw clenched, fists flexed at his sides. he took an intimidating step forward.

y/n glanced between stiles and sam owens, taking a deep, shuddering breath. sam puffed out his chest, towering over stiles by a couple of inches. although he was buffer, taller, a couple years older, he didn’t seem nearly as threatening as stiles did. the devilish qualities to his features seemed to heighten themselves in defiance to sam’s presence.

the black haired boy glared his eyes at sam, pupils blown out out with a stormy darkness. she knew it was wrong, but seeing him so angry at sam- y/n couldn’t help but admit that it made her stomach twirl.

they’d never really had the sam talk, at least she hadn’t told him every single thing. she’d mentioned sam, once, when she and stiles were talking about something else. it was offhanded, when she brought him up. danny, however, had spilled his guts to stiles about the short situationship y/n and that “douchebag” had been in all summer.

and stiles was pissed the fuck off. he knew about sam’s girlfriend at college. he knew sam had used y/n for sex over the summer. he knew that sam had told her he loved her right before breaking up with her.

oh, was stiles angry.

that was, after all, his girl now. and nobody was gonna fuck with stiles’ girl. nobody was gonna fuck with stiles.

he stepped forward, now nearly chest to chest with sam, who replied, “who the fuck are you? y/n told you to leave! want me to show you the door, kid?”

“who the fuck am i? watch your mouth, dickhead. you have no fucking business here-“

y/n quickly stood, wary hands before herself, “stiles, it’s not worth it, i promise.” she stalled his words, but stiles wouldn’t even look over at her. his dark eyes bore a hole through sam, and she knew he was probably going to hit him.

y/n, who was now feeling quite sobered up, glanced to the house. she knew that if they started fighting, stiles would get his ass handed to him. sam was a wrestler in college, the best in his weight class. he was a fucking state champion.

so, she needed to get to danny, who was definitely stronger than stiles, at least. he’d probably be able to keep them apart long enough for her to calm stiles down.

but, she didn’t have any time, because sam was mouthing stiles off again. and stiles really was the best at banter. so, he was getting himself into a lot of trouble.

“you put your fucking hands on her, and she told you to stop. makes it my goddamn business-“

“oh, my god, shut the fuck up!” stiles rolled his eyes at sam. he opened his mouth to shoot off some other sarcastic remark when sam reared back a fist and clipped the side of stiles’ face. stiles nearly fall back on the concrete alongside the pool, but he caught himself. having a werewolf as a best friend had taught him a thing or two. so, he was ready to fight.

stiles hit sam in return, most likely breaking his hand- definitely breaking his hand, he knew it. but the punch tossed sam onto the lounge chair behind him. it surprised both stiles and y/n, who had to jump out of the way. she nearly getting taken out by sam’s thrown body.

stiles met her eye and the sight of her, standing there, scared, softened him. he reached for her, closing the distance between then within two long strides. he set his hands on her biceps, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left one. blood dripped from his cracked knuckles, bleeding onto her skin. she clutched onto his elbows in response, any anger for him washed away by fear and worry.

“shit, are you okay? i’m so-“

before he could continue, y/n was shoved to the ground. she scraped her palms, cut her elbow open, and busted her tailbone, hard, on the concrete. she thought she hit her chin, too, but she couldn’t really tell, because y/n’s vision blurred from the fall.

sam tackled stiles to the ground with another punch. they landed in the grass, and went at each other. it took y/n a second to clear her pained head, but she managed to push herself up on her feet. some of their classmates continued partying around them, most just ignoring the fight. but a small crowd gathered to watch it, like it was something exciting, something fun to do. the bystanders made y/n feel sick. nobody was doing anything.

she didn’t even take a second to look at stiles, knowing that seeing him like that would stall her in her tracks. instead, she turned towards jack’s house, danny’s name screeching out of her throat.

she ran inside, feeling like she was pushing through thick, slow jello. she continued to yell out his name. luckily, she found him, on the dance floor still. ethan was there, too. good- he could help.

ethan was already meeting her, setting a kind hand on her arm. “what’s wrong?” his eyes glazed over, and he looked to the side, as though he could hear the fight. he ran outside.

danny shoved through the crowd, towards her. he caught her chin in his hand examining her wounds, “what the fuck happened? what’s going on?”

y/n, breathing heavily, sobbing again, stumbled out, “sam and stiles!”

danny pushed aside as he fell into a run. y/n followed, though the burning of her cuts and scrapes became more intense on her nerves. she seethed a breath between her teeth, stumbling over her feet, but pushed on.

ethan had shoved sam to the grass, though he was getting back up, again. danny immediately lunged in between them before sam could get to stiles. danny sent a harsh punch to sam’s gut, forcing him backwards again. danny then grabbed stiles by the shirt, helped him become balanced on his feet, before danny pushed him away, too. ethan came back in, grabbing stiles around the chest to hold him back, though stiles fought against the tight hold. sam somehow got up, again, clutching his stomach, and jumped towards stiles. danny punched him again and shook out his fist after. the look on his face was annoyed, but also, somehow, vengeful. he had been waiting all summer, all of fall, to punch this motherfucker.

“fuck you guys!” sam spat at danny and stiles from his knees, more blood trailing down his already slick chin.

stiles grunted, fighting against ethan’s hold. “you’re a piece of fucking shit! pussy ass bitch-“

“shut the fuck up-“ sam cut him off, then added, “i don’t even give a fuck about that bitch!“

danny shook his head at the words spitting from sam’s mouth. stiles looked angrier, if at all possible. ethan’s hold loosened on him, shocked by the insults sam threw at y/n. ethan did care for her, too, even if he barely knew her. she was everything to danny.

all three boys were seething with anger. sam had called her a bitch, and they did not like that.

sam simply smirked up at them, his words and expression challenging them. he went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, but he didn’t get a chance to even take another breath because danny had lunged after him again.

ethan let go of stiles, purposefully, and the boy followed suit. ethan, a little more controlled- even though the situation pissed him off, too- grabbed danny, but not before allowing him to get a few punches in.

y/n ran forward and tried to grab stiles’ arm. she failed, and instead tripped over his shoe. she tumbled into the grass. she quickly pulled herself up, again. when she looked for stiles, she saw him being restricted again, this time by scott’s arm. she didn’t know when he had arrived, but she was glad for the extra help.

it made her heart swell that all of these men cared about her so much to fight sam like they were, but it really needed to end already. it shouldn’t have even gotten out of hand in the first place. she was nauseous, hurting in all of the places she’d been wounded, and extremely tired from the alcohol still coursing through her system.

y/n stood up. scott was rushing out words to his friend, “hey! stiles! stiles, cmon, dude! calm down! stiles!”

“stiles!” y/n called. she crouched down in front of him, reaching for his face.

stiles finally met her eyes and a steady rhythm graciously caught his breath. she cupped his jaw in her delicate fingers. his blood smeared across his face, all over her hands.

a few tears ran down his face, falling into her palms. she didn’t know why he was crying, if it was because of his injuries or his anger. but she wiped them away with her thumbs.

“it’s okay, baby,” she whispered, for only him to hear. “i’m okay, it’s okay. please, just calm down.”

scott, who had let go of stiles, turned to sam, who was standing up from the ground. scott was charismatic, and could usually easily demand people. he put out a cautious hand towards sam, “leave it, buddy. just leave it, trust me,” scott warned him.

stiles slumped forward, on his knees. y/n squatted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. she used all of her strength to stand them up, brushing the sweaty, bloody hair from his face. sam watched her tenderness as she cared for stiles, feeling a surge of jealousy. sam knew he didn’t want her. he knew he had willingly given her up. but, that didn’t mean he wanted anybody else to get to have her.

so, just when it seemed like it was over, sam scoffed, “yeah, you’re right. i’ll leave it. she’s not worth it. she’s just an easy fuck and a cheap ass date-“

now, scott was angry. he roared, and y/n thought she saw his eyes flash a bright red. he went after sam, just to shut his stupid fucking mouth. he swept past y/n and stiles, who clutched onto her waistline protectively. he tried to duck them out of the way, but his foot skidded over the concrete, and they tripped towards the water.

she yelped, clutching onto his neck, as they fell into the pool. the water enveloped them, but tore them from one another. y/n kicked her feet sporadically, shocked by the cold, by the alarming fall they’d taken. she grabbed for stiles’ shirt and gratefully felt his hands fluttering for her hips.

she blew out a lot of bubbles, struggling to hold her breath from all of the shock. stiles tugged her tightly against him, again, and swam them to the surface. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched onto his shoulders. she was shaking, with fear, with pain, from the cold water nipping at her skin. it was all so much all at once that she just laughed.

stiles stared at her as she tossed her head back, giggling like a maniac. he furrowed hit brows, jutted his chin out, “what are you laughing about?”

y/n barely met his eye, continuing to laugh at the fucked up situation. “this is just so stupid!”

he remembered she was drunk and tapped her hip, “okay, let’s get you out of here-“

“it’s stupid, stiles!” she slapped a hand down onto his shoulder. “you’re stupid! that fight was fucking stupid! sam’s stupid! this night is stupid! i’m stupid!”

“why am i- why are you stupid?” he didn’t want to make it all about him. she was clearly grappling with something, something she needed to talk out.

she couldn’t continue to push everything away, including him. “i’m stupid! i let you and that stupid boy fuck up everything! i let it happen not once, but twice! what is it- fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? i’m a fool! you and sam are, like- oh, my god, im just stupid. and that was so fucking stupid- you and sam fighting over me! you guys fought over me, but both of you are the reason im so fucked up in the first place! it’s your guys’ fault and you just had some stupid pissing contest-!”

“me and sam?” stiles sounded out his words carefully, working through her rambles in his fuzzy head.

the night she’d ran out of his house, in a craze, a mess because of his phone blowing up- what had triggered that?

who had called stiles that night? who had been blowing up his phone? was it-

it was lydia.

lydia, the girl everyone at beacon hills high knew he’d had a major crush on for, like basically, ever.

y/n must have looked at his phone. she must have put together, based off of the texts he’d been sent, based off all of the context clues laying right in front of him, that he and lydia were together.

meanwhile, am had had a girlfriend the entire time he and y/n had gone out. every day, he’d see his girlfriend. then, usually on the weekends, when it was dark, he’d bring y/n out like a toy.

y/n thought stiles was just like sam. y/n thought stiles was using her.

she had no clue that she was everything and the sun to him. she had no clue that he needed her like water, that he craved her like wine. she didn’t know that he spent every night rereading their texts, analyzing their conversations, going over their interactions, decoding everything to find a way for her to love him despite her hurt, despite what they agreed on.

she was used to being broken by people who claimed to love her, and stiles was just another part of that system.

so, he needed to tell. right now.

stiles gripped onto her hips, shaking her body just once so she’d meet his eyes. “listen-“

“no, just- get me out-“

“y/n, you beautiful, gorgeous, sweet woman- just listen to me! okay? just listen!” stiles demanded, “i’m not with lydia, alright? i’ve never been with her. i don’t want her- i’m in-“

“stiles!” scott called his name from above, standing at the edge of the pool. his eyes still glowed red, his face was still morphed into that of a wolf. scott’s chest puffed out, in, heavily, with deep, ragged breaths.

stiles knew something was wrong based off of his friend’s demeanor.

“we have to get to the school. lydia’s in trouble.”

stiles looked to y/n, who’s face had lit up from the possibility of stiles’ words. her expression morphed into confusion. he wanted to say something, to say sorry. but, he couldn’t. he couldn’t focus.

so, y/n took her turn to speak, graciously replying with, “stiles, i know there’s so much that you’re still hiding from me-“ she glanced up at scott, who tilted his head with shame, “so, i’m coming with you. if you want me to trust you, i have to come with you. i have to know.”

stiles knew she was right.

so he drug her, head first, into the world of the supernatural.

[chubs-deuce]

Hello!!! Love love LOVE your Charlastor and Hazbin artwork; your art is amazing!!

I have a feww questions if you’re comfortable with answering them (no worries if not) :D

I love hearing people’s music recommendations, so I was wondering if you listen to music whilst you draw and if there’s any songs in particular that make you think of the characters and/or the ship?

Also, I get a bit nervous posting about Charlastor because of some of the hate it gets in the fandom and because some of my irl classmates who follow me don’t like the ship (and don’t know I like it), so I was wondering what your general mindset is when you post your art online, but also what your mindset is like when posting Charlastor art, knowing what the fandom can be like?

Finallyy, I wanted to ask if you’ve read Under My Skin by whamagram on AO3 and if you have, what are your thoughts on it? It’s a mature slowburn Radiobelle fic and only has a few chapters out so far, but it’s updated pretty regularly and has become my new favourite at the moment! I highly highly recommend it because it’s super well-written, really witty, and really understands the characters. It’s all about Charlie nursing Alastor back to health after the final battle in season 1 and it’s just so well done!!

Again, just want to say that I really really love your work and thank you for sharing it! I especially love how you draw expressions and the way you draw characters and their emotions feels so real. Seeing your illustrations inspires me to keep practicing with my own art!

Omg thank you so much for this lovely ask?!!

I'd be more than happy to answer all of these actually! :D

I am, in fact, the kind of person who looooves finding songs that fit certain characters or ships and make whole playlists over time if I find enough of them, so here's some that made me think of Charlastor (links are all spotify):

- Glass Piano, by Kathleen

- Daisy Bell, and specifically this scuffed computer sung version bc it hits better

- bored like me, by dodie

- Ended with the Night, by Caravan Palace

- I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire, by The Ink Spots

- I Can't Decide, by Scissor Sisters

I have yet to really find more songs specific to the characters as individuals tho lol

----------

As for your next question...

This isn't my first rodeo in the unpopular non-canon het presenting ship club, so there's a few things I like to remind myself of when I feel that people pleaser anxiety sneaking up on me:

1)

if people truly wanted to avoid content of the ship, they'd block the tags. Maybe kindly ask your friend to block the charlastor and radiobelle tags bc you want to post about them? This way they're not forced to see what they dislike and you get to have your harmless fun. If they're opposed to this, question why. It's not your job to curate *their* online experience, they do have all the necessary tools at their disposal.

2)

I consider the source material like a toy box. You can play with the dolls in it like the packaging intended for you to, but there's no rules dictating that you can't play *your* way if that's more fun to you.

Canon is in my eyes the preferred suggestion, but not the law - don't we all just smush the heads of dolls together making kissy noises in our minds at the end of the day?

A lot of people sadly treat shipping like it's a battle for author validation, when in reality it was always just a way to playing with hypotheticals and exploring the world and characters canon offered us in new and interesting ways... I hate the attitude some people have about canonicity. Imo, as long as you're not acting like your non-canon ship should be canon and shit on other ships in the process, you're not doing any harm.

Now... Canon sexualities and having contrary headcanons are a tricky road to travel because there's so much emotional investment in the canon representation of often overlooked or mishandled minority groups, and this is the biggest anti argument I've seen get thrown around, since Charlastor as a ship not only splits up the canon lesbian pairing, but also alters Alastor's canon sexuality to make the ship work.

What's important here is that you handle it respectfully - i.e. don't be a dick and go around acting like your preferred ideas are better and should be canon or whatever. Attitude is important, respect canon for what it is and embrace the fact that your ship is not. It's not a detriment! It just means we have to make all of our own content lol.

I personally headcanon Alastor as demisexual/demiromantic not only because it still fits under the aspec umbrella, but also because I myself am both of those things and enjoy messing with the characters and narrative using a dynamic I have a lot of personal experience with! It's fun to hit someone as haughty and stubbornly emotionally detached as Alastor with a flurry of unexpected, unwanted feelings and struggling to navigate them.

Do I want that to be canon? Absolutely not! I'm just having fun with my imaginative toys in my own corner of the internet lol.

Also for the record, I think Chaggie is cute and they should absolutely stay together, I just don't find them interesting enough to explore further in the realm of fanfiction and art :'D

Ultimately I'm a strong believer of "I can post whatever I want forever", if anyone has an issue with it and the given tools at their disposal aren't enough to deal with it, they're free to unfollow and/or block me! I don't need anyone's approval to have harmless fun with my artistic and writing skills where I don't bother anyone, and that's imo always what should be at the core of creating just about anything.

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OH ALSO I KNOW THAT FIC AND IT'S SOO GOOODDDD I DROP EVERYTHING TO GO READ IT WHENEVER A NEW CHAPTER DROPS

I try my best to leave comments under it wherever I can too bc it genuinely scratches like every itch I have about this ship so well-

The comedy is on point, the dialogue feels so solidly in-character and the pacing and the overall concept just work perfectly!!

10/10 concur as a great recommendation lol

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QWQ again, thank you so much for taking the time to type out this lovely ask, I really do appreciate it and the compliments also absolutely made my day!!

I hope you keep having as much fun with this ship as I am, take care!! <3

[ireallyamabear]

Thank you for tagging me @0liver-hope ! I made a new post bc that other one was really fucking long already. Also my phone just tried to correct that to gucking

Last Song:

I'm eating a pizza right now and there's some kind of techno remix playing in the pizza place...

Favorite Color:

Green! Just got a new green jacket. I dress like a little army man these days 🥲 my bike is also green and vegetables and the grass! Amazing. Have you guys heard about this

Last Movie/TV Show:

I saw John Wick last week for the first time... it was okay. Keanu Reeves can get it tho. Also I'm watching black sails and mash right now. I'm enjoying both, I'd say black sails is an amazing production but drags sometimes.... but I love how contemporary the historical people feel? Just like people? Mash is good too.for a long time I totally thought mash was the show about American pows that my grandpa used to watch in the 90s. Different show oops

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory:

Savory!!!!! I can't handle Spicy food much and in the last few years started to not enjoy overly sweet stuff anymore... watch out it'll happen to you too. I had the perfect potato gözleme the other day...

Relationship Status:

Eligible bachelor only by tumblr standards 😬

Last Thing I Googled:

If you can use multiple different library cards with Libby. Apparently you can! I duckduckgoed it actually

Loooove libby it's making me read so much!

Current Obsession:

Still in the andor trenches with you buddy. That fanart the other day with dead melshi???? Killed me dead as well. Im also lying there lifeless on a beach. It actually reminded me of the dead dog in John Wick ,wait which came first??? Does the dog die in rogue one? Yes unfortunately

It's actually good for me that the andor fandom moves so slowly these days,makes it easier to keep up ..

This was fun let's do it again!

No pressure tagging the last 7 moochs in my notes @bornforastorm @gayvillains @mysouvenirs @hideflen @tremendouskoalachild @chipthekeeper @bisexualwintermoon and anyone who wants to!

[h-harleybaby]

hey pookie bear 😍😍

i am politely and cutely asking for like halloween party hcs with the main four boys 😍

like what they do at the party and stuff (i hope that makes sense 😭)

I LOVE YOU BAE FRFR ❤️❤️❤️

thank you for your time 😁

Ofc ofc hun ilyt 🫶🫶🫶

Cartman

• Cartman’s the type to demand that whoever hosts the party has a candy bowl “for the trick or treaters” and then hogs the bowl to himself. Sometimes if he’s feeling extra nice he’ll throw whatever candy he thinks sucks at the kids

• Absolutely the bouncer of the party, if you or the host doesn’t want someone there he’d probably threaten or annoy the person into leaving. It’s his job to ruin the party not theirs!!

• The kitchen is practically his home now and if anyone wants ANYTHING he basically approves it. Sorry if he doesn’t like you, because if he doesn’t he won’t even let you have tap water. Nuh uh, the kitchen is his domain

• If there’s a costume contest, Cartman bribes the judges or complains hoping it’ll help him win. He’s a winner and no, he will not take no for answer. Schemes are bound to follow if the judges won’t fall for his shit

• Definitely will try scaring everyone he can, especially with Kenny. He’s scared Kyle so many times I’m surprised the poor man hasn’t had a heart attack yet. He looooves scaring the unsuspecting kids who come to the door asking for candy

Stan

• Stan and Kenny have a tendency to get absolutely SHITFACED at parties, this one is no different. Can you blame a guy for wanting a little fun? He ends up waking up hanging from somewhere and having to call Kyle to get him down every time without fail. One time he woke up ducktaped to the ceiling and to this day, no one knows it was Clyde and Cartman who did it

• He’s the one in charge of the parties music, he won’t let anyone mess with the playlist unless he REALLY likes them or they’re good songs. He’s always the unofficial DJ at every party, even ones he’s not invited to. If there’s booze and music, he’s there

• Is usually one of the judges at costume contests and to this day, no one knows why. Maybe it’s because he rarely wears any good costumes outside of the kind of shirts that say “this is my tuxedo”. Somehow the one with the greasiest hair is the best judge and no one’s complaining

• Cartman has tried scaring Stan multiple times but he usually only ends up wheezing at him because he’s too drunk to be scared. That and his friend is so genuinely unscary that it’s hilarious!

• Stan pretty much lives on the couch of whoever hosts the party, doesn’t matter how many people are there and doesn’t matter how many different parties he goes to in a night. He has a habit of party bouncing and at every single one, there’s a spot on the couch for him

Kyle

• Kyle’s usually the “mother” of the party, he has a man purse he always brings with him that has stuff he never gets to use. It ranges from bandaids to candy for any trick or treaters who pass by, too bad the kids never take the candy. Though at least they’re practicing stranger danger?

• Usually ends up chasing down the kids Cartman scared at the door to give them the candy in his man purse if they’ll accept or. Sometimes he’ll give them an apple and bandaid if Cartman threw something at them. Oh those poor, poor kids

• Is usually the one who wins the costume contest, every year he always has some elaborate costume prepared despite never wanting to do anything. If he’s doing something for Halloween, he’s doing it RIGHT god damn it!

• Absolutely gets the ever living fuck scared out of him every year, multiple times. He doesn’t know why he still falls for it when Cartman scares him, but he always does. It’s a good laugh for Cartman and Kenny though, so he won’t yell too much

• Kyle usually finds himself sitting on the stairs, looking down at everyone. It’s kind of creepy but no one is gonna say anything because he takes care of it when something bad or unexpected happens. It’s like he’s watching over them… weirdo

Kenny

• Honestly, Kenny’s there for the vibes and food. He tends to take whatever food he can from the house before he leaves, sometimes known to shove a package of frozen bacon in his pants before running off while people yell at him. A guys gotta do what a guys gotta do, y’all know?

• Absolutely never wins the costume contests because every year after he takes Karen trick or treating he gets ready in the bathroom and just dresses as a dick. Sometimes he lets Cartman draw dicks on his face with sharpie, other times he saves money to get one of those horrible inflatable dick costumes

• He adores scaring the shit out of Kyle though, it’s one of his favorite traditions when it comes to Halloween. Not to mention the circumcision jokes, they never get old.. well not for him at least

• Kenny is also usually the one to initiate everything, going from games like spin the bottle and 7 minutes in heaven to things like Charlie Charlie. No one is safe from him no matter how quiet they are, they’ll always be included in some way

• By the end of the night people usually find Kenny on the floor somewhere or on a coffee table (better yet in a broken coffee table), dead or alive is anyone’s guess. Hell, one time they thought he died because he drew a dick in blood but he really just got thrown into the window and drew a dick in his blood before he passed out

[doesntmeanitsmeaningless]

Ailooooooooo!!!! How was your show???? I'm so happy for you. What were your favorite parts? How was the crowd? Tell me whatever you want to share please. Sending you a hug.

CC!! Aaaaaahhhh! It was so good!! I’m still processing!! Louis started off a bit cool and distant and didn’t say much but the energy, enthusiasm and adoration of the entire crowd soon saw him in a hilarious mood. He had so many interactions, and seeing Louis giggle while singing is something I’ll always remember from last night. My mom and I were at the back of pit, right in the middle 3 persons away from that central barricade. The whole crowd was into the music and while it was a festival, I think everyone was there for Louis - so his comment that it’s not his show was an interesting reminder. It felt like a Louis concert, with a festival set list. What a set list. Banger after banger! HOTH as the fourth song was a fun surprise. I looooved the energy of Drag Me Down (the 1D songs were definitely a hit with the crowd but this one in particular), straight into JHO and then High in California. It was such a fun ride! I had a little giggle myself at “this is Face the Music” and thought of you 😇. Copy of a Copy was emotional and the crowd was loooud. The seamless transition to Walls put me through the wringer. And after that it felt like a whirlwind of jumping, singing, not wanting it to end but knowing the end is coming. I will keep this Saturdays in my heart, it was beautiful. And for Silver Tongues it felt like he didn’t want it to end either, he was on stage kicking the beach ball just before he came down to barricade. And eeeeeek, he really did come down the super narrow path in the middle of the crowd, right to the back. It was pure chaos, with red streamers and fireworks happening too… and it wasn’t a barricade he could jump up, so I just saw his head bop by and a flash of an arm. It must’ve felt like a car wash in there with arms from both sides. 😂 My bracelets found happy new owners, making me happy too. VIP Angie @persephoneflouwers and her sister were integral to my experience too, providing updates from a bird eye perspective of the fest throughout the day. 🫶🫶 And our fun times prior to the fest will remain favourite Istanbul memories too! I absolutely loved the visuals on the big main and 2 side screens. I knew some of them from livestreams but some felt new to me or hit differently when the are massive and in front of you. The 1-second lag was unfortunate but ultimately ok. It was warm with a breeze, Steve didn’t have to wear a tshirt, the site was seaside and Louis had a fabulous view of the illuminated Blue Mosque behind us. Crowd size felt smallish, pit (officially called front of stage) had about as many people in it as general admission. I’m glad he said he was pleased with the turnout… I was worried he might not be. Oh and Louis calling some dude giving him the middle finger dickhead and daft wasn’t on my bingo card… he was in full Tommo form, quick and biting. He never did end up doing his vodka shot with the good girl. And the moon, a tiny sliver of it was out, as were a few bright stars. I could go on and on. I DONT FEEL LIKE GOING HOME!!!

[six-of-ravens]

FINISHED MY SONG OF THE LIONESS REREAD!!!!

(if this makes no sense please bear with me, it's after midnight)

Overall, some parts of the series didn't hold up as well as I thought they would, but many parts did. Alanna is still my homegirl. The swordfights and sorcery and all that never fail to entertain. There is a bit more sexism than I remember, and some of the parts with the Bazhir didn't age very well, but it remains a classic.

BOOKS RANKED BASED ON HOW MUCH I LIKED THEM:

1. Lioness Rampant - I think this is the book where Pierce really hit her stride as a writer. The world seems fuller, the plot thicker, the characters more established. The pacing is a lot better, too: this book is about 100 pages longer than all the others and Pierce uses those pages well. The final battle against Roger is a little anticlimactic (though it's preceded by like four other battles) but well earned. I hated Liam for the most part, because frankly he's a shit boyfriend to Alanna, but also she dates 3 men over the series and I guess one of them had to suck for real. I did love Thom though - I think he and Raistlin cemented my love for asshole fuckup mildly, ambitiously evil wizards early on.

2. Alanna: The First Adventure - this one is kind of tied for first place. It's a shorter book, but the pacing is decent and we get all that wonderful knight school content. Extremely entertaining, and a very fun start to the series.

3. The Woman who Rides like a Man - a nice breather of a book after the events of the first two, lots of character growth for Alanna, with cool desert sorcery and fighting and all. I think this book is what really set the pattern for The Immortals and the Circle of Magic books - Pierce looooves writing kids learning magic, and she's good at it. That said, there are obviously a lot of Issues with the portrayal Bazhir (clearly based off a combo of Islamic folk and Native Americans) as violent and sexist, and Alanna and Jonathan (especially Jonathan, as the Voice) take on kinda cringe white saviour roles. It's not the most explicitly horrible thing ever but it does grate a bit.

4. In the Hand of the Goddess - well, someone had to be last. This is kind of the weird middle child in the quartet, where Alanna is in the midst of becoming a knight but there's a lot of random events that happen in that time. Most of the book is told in a series of vignettes - mainly incidents where Alanna or Jon narrowly avoid death or injury due to Duke Roger's schemes. However, they're a little too disconnected and Alanna's motivation (or lack thereof) is a little too vague until the final scene to satisfy me. The official explanation is that Roger was veiling Alanna so she just kept forgetting to report him, but we never actually see this in the story. She just builds up all these theories and is 100% certain it's him but doesn't tell anyone but Myles because she's certain no one will believe her (and why would they - at this point he's a respected noble). Idk, I just wanted more like....harmony between the ending and these vignettes I guess. Also, there's the horrible cringe subplot of everyone, including the goddess, treating Alanna like she's some frigid old hateful spinster when she's 15 and doing the normal teenage thing of going "I'll never have a boyfriend!!" I just wish some of the patronizing speech had been cut and Alanna discovered her sexuality without all that BS. Also, George is quite creepy in this one, he's quite a bit older than Alanna and she's still underage by modern terms so I didn't enjoy his attempts at romance as much as in the next book.

ANYWAY. Childhood favourites, like 8/10 will read again, just have to brace myself for the 80s-ness of certain things and remember this was the author's first series and she was still experimenting with style.

[reidwitchsblog]

My Ticci Toby HC

Warning: 18+ content, mention of dead animals, mention of people’s death, mention of scars, wrong use of punctuation marks.

Author’s note: While I take my sweet time writing the second part of my fict, enjoy this little headcanons that have been on my mind.

Author’s note 2: I created this playlist that basically captures everything you need to know about the way I hc him.

Minors DNI.

PERSONALITY

His personality is, for a lack of better words, eerie. Most of the time he is silent and observant, and due to his past he doesn’t show his true personality often, but rather he morphs into a person that he thinks the others will like, it could be a mature young man, or a sarcastic little shit.

I believe that when he kills, he tortures his victims due to the fact that the concept of pain is foreign to him. He enjoys to try different torture methods

His biggest desire is to have a home. It is something he keeps a secret from others, not really because he is afraid of being made fun of, but rather because he feels that as long as no one knows, the fact that it’s never going to happen will hurt less. So he keeps that deep inside him, in a safe place, like a little photograph that he can take out and look when he is feeling down.

As much as he despises being angry (it reminds him of his dad), he can’t help it, he is his father’s son after all. When he gets mad, his first instinct is to bear his teeth and growl. And if the person he is fighting with doesn’t take the cue, he will attack, aiming for the throat as soon as he has the opportunity.

And talking about dogs, HE LOVES LIKE A HOUND DOG, once that he catch a scent that is appealing to him, there is nothing, and no one, that’s able to stop him. He is going to chase it until he has it in his maw, without very little regard as to whether he is hurting himself.

PHYSICAL

I see many people saying that my man is the shortest one out of all proxies, but, respectfully, I think they are wrong. He just gives me tall man vibes, HOWEVER, I think his poor posture makes him stand at 6’0, when he normally is 6’2, which comes really handy when he wants to scare his victims.

We all agree that he has the most beautiful light brown eyes, they are like pools of honey, warm and inviting, which contrast massively with the scowl he seems to permanently wear.

Although he is more on the skinny side, he has gained some muscles over the years due to all the physical work he does; chopping wood, running around, carrying his victims… sadly he covers them with either flannels or grandpa sweaters.

Still on the topic of grandpa sweaters, he looooves them, mainly because they remind him of his late sister, whose last Christmas present were two brown and green sweaters. His to go outfit is a short sleeved band shirt, a flannel, a pair of dark denim jeans, his old shearling jacket and and a pair of black Converse. When he is alone is his cabin he opts for a wife beater and a pair of flannel pajama pants.

His whole body is covered in scars, most of them being self inflicted, and fewer being the ones made by his bravest victims that naively thought that a knife would’ve stopped Toby from killing them. He doesn’t hate them per say, he even thinks some of them are cool, but in the coldest nights, when he is alone with his thoughts, he can’t help but to despise every single part of his body, including his scars.

RANDOM HC

He has a small collection of various trinkets hidden in a wooden box beneath his bed. Some of them are old photos with his sister, rocks that he thought they were pretty, keychains that he stole from different gas stations, etc. At first glance it would look just like a pile of crap, but I can assure you everything has a reason to be there.

He was born in Germany but moved to South Carolina when he was 5.

He enjoys listening to music, his favorite genre is old rock. The Rolling Stones, Queen, Van Morrison, Fleetwood Mac, Bon Jovi, Blondu… his favorite song is “Brown eyed Girl” and you can’t change my mind.

He is the softest person when it comes to animals, he feels so bad when he finds any dead animal near the road, and he always gives them a proper burial, he even says some words along the lines of “the world was cruel to you when all you wanted was some warmth”. He so cried with the poem about spiders.

⋆｡°✩ — ©️ reidwitchsblog, 2023 - don’t repost, translate, copy, or claim.

[eisforeidolon]

Question: What was your favorite episode of Supernatural to film?

Jensen: To film?

Jared: In hindsight, or at the time? I mean, 'cause I look back and, like, French Mistake? Looking back now I love it, but I was so anxious the entire time, I was so nervous that I didn't have a great time filming it? But in hindsight, I loooove the memory of having filmed it. Does that make any sense? It kinda sounds weird, like, it was nerve wracking, I was like, I have to be funny and there's a lock and a key and a [gestures vaguely like in the episode]. Nutcracker where they were fitting me for jock straps and stuff. I was like, this sucks. Like, who thinks this is funny?

Jensen: That was - Changing Channels?

Jared: [grabs Jensen's thigh] Changing Channels! I had, like, herpes commercials and shit, I was like, this, I don't like this very much. Riding the motorcycles around and falling around. Like in hindsight, it was amazing, but during the filming of it I was like this might be the worst thing that's ever happened to me in my life. And then strange, like Sacrifice, the end of season eight, was awful to film but I loved that I got to experience it, you know? It was three days in an abandoned church with Mark Sheppard - who we're all sending love to, and I love him and you all love him [crowd cheers]. But it wasn't, it wasn't enjoyable during it - it's always enjoyable, not mean to bitch, but it was stressful during it, but those are the two episodes that just came to my head. Or like The End, you know, like that - like episode twenty three of five? What was that [slaps Jensen's arm] Swan Song! The End was him, um Samifer - Swan Song, the finale of season five, was amazing in my head now, but during it, I hated it. It was like, I'm killing my brother, I'm killing myself, like what's going on -

Jensen: I was gonna say that one of them would be The End, and it's, I think it's a similar thing [rests hand on Jared's knee] it's because it was such a challenge to shoot those particular episodes that it was very taxing during shooting those, that particular episode for me that I was playing two versions of Dean. But it's one that I look back on with great pride because of how challenging it was. I'll say that - you guys might not like this - that one of my favorite episodes to film was the very last episode. I'll tell you why, it's because we had gotten to a point where he and I could truly reflect and appreciate the magnitude of the moment that was happening in front of us. I - when I got in to that car and I drove it, Dean was driving in heaven, I knew that that was gonna be the final drive for this run of the show. And you know, I think I have video, I set my little phone up in the seat and recorded me doing that final drive. And then he and I on the bridge, like we, there were moments that he and I took, multiple moments that he and I took to ourselves without the cameras rolling. And so I think that was precious for me.

Jared: Yeah.

Jensen: And that meant so much because of the journey we had gone on and where we had ended up together, so. That's, that's - but if you're just like, what was fun? Yellow Fever was fun.

Jared: Yeah, that was fun. That was fun. You know what? I agree a hundred percent. It occurred to me while you were talking about it, I think the only episode that I really feel like I just had fun during? Was Baby. [Jensen points his mic at Jared] Because we weren't - it wasn't the Sam and Dean show, it was the Baby show. And so it was like we got to go have some fun on somebody else's set.

Jensen: It was also kind of the most unique -

Jared: So wild.

Jensen: process of filming an episode because they just mounted cameras to the car and then just sent us out into the wild. And just fingers crossed, I hope these two knuckleheads can get the scene. It was up to us.

Jared: Yeah. And it was also the first time in a decade and a half where we weren't going onto set of a show about Sam and Dean Winchester, like, this episode was about Baby. So we got to go and like just help be cogs in the wheel, you know, it wasn't like - it felt like less pressure - even though we were in the entire episode, obviously.

Jensen: Yeah, that's a great answer. Baby. And one of my favorite episodes, too. That was a Robbie Thompson special.

Jared: Yeah, that's right.