#or just regular hard candies with nothing in the middle

[tiddie-taylor]

Come on you can't tell me those things don't look mad yummy 😩

[bckybrnss]

it hurts my stomach // dean winchester x reader

summary • you wonder if your relationship with dean has officially run it’s course pairing • dean winchester x fem!reader warnings • angst with no happy ending, breakups/separation, dean’s been distant for a while, he’s kind of a dick in this one, dean & reader are falling out of love with each other, pain, overall very sad stuff, emotionally checked out of the relationship genre • angst word count • 1271 notes • stomach by aly & aj came up on shuffle and the idea hit me like a vision i immediately had to get this out simply for the line “i just can’t stomach being your ex-wife”

The boys were participating in their normal brotherly bickering. Dean, ever the grumpy of the two, was going on and on about how things went south on a hunt. Sam, the usual voice of reason between the two, was reassuring him that it was no big deal since the job still got done. You hated when they would bicker regardless of how big or small the issue was, usually being the one to constantly remind them that they were being stupid and ‘the only two I know who can say that they’ve literally been to hell and back for each other’.

It was silly really, feeling as if you had to test the waters almost three years into the relationship. The Dean you first met would’ve gotten a kick out of your silly puns and one-liners, it was one of the many reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. You were the comedic relief to Sam’s nagging, the one who kept him sane in the early days.

The motel room was thick with tension long after the argument had settled. It was mostly on Dean’s end, as Sam had gone on a walk to give his brother the space he needed. Dean was laying against the pillows, gaze fixed on whatever nonsense he could find on television to distract himself. He was halfway through a case of beer when you got out of the shower, figuring he must have made a quick store run while you were mid-hair routine.

It was an unspoken rule that whenever Dean made a store run that he would always make sure you got something sweet. Cookies, candy — hell, even the donuts in the convenience store display case would satisfy you. It’s been a long enough tradition that he couldn’t justify breaking that habit, going as far as putting his pride to the side after arguments and complicated hunts to come back with a bag of your favorite snacks.

That’s why it stung so much more to see the empty beer bottles on the nightstand next to him.

Normally after a hunt he’d be all over you, Sam giving you the space to make up for lost time much like he was tonight. Right now, it felt as if approaching Dean was the equivalent of detonating a bomb. He barely glanced your way as you made your way over to your side of the shared bed, shuffling closer to him as you settled under the blankets.

You could handle an angry Dean on a regular basis. Grumpy should’ve been his middle name with his constant bad moods, but you were the calm to his storm. This was nothing new for you.

Right?

“Did I ever tell you about the bossy man who walked into the bar?” You break the silence, matching your boyfriend’s gaze on the television. He muttered what sounded like a ‘No’ before taking a sip from a freshly opened bottle.

Now, make that four bottles on the nightstand. Two remaining in the carrier. You braced yourself for what came next.

“He ordered everyone around.”

Silence. Not even that smile where he pretends your jokes aren’t funny even though he’s crying with laughter on the inside.

A few years ago Dean would’ve laughed at your joke. Now you can’t help but feel as if you were the last person he wanted to be around. It was suddenly hard to breathe under the weight of the amulet around your neck.

“Dean… are you sure?” There’s a bewildered look on your face as he places the amulet in your hand, the one initially given to him by Sam.

“S’not like I’d let anyone else wear it.” Dean shrugs as he crouches down to your eye level, giving you a small smile. His arm wrapped around your shoulders as he held you close to his side. “I’m not afraid to let the world know that you’re my girl, either.”

“You’re such a sap.” You giggle, playfully swatting his chest before draping the necklace in place. Dean couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face.

“Only for you.” He teases in return. “It’s something until I can get a ring, but you’re it for me.”

You suddenly felt sick to your stomach at the memory. The thought of Dean, your rock, your protector, becoming a stranger had become the reality in recent months. The hunts were longer, the communication slowed, the affection disappeared, and intimacy was nonexistent. It wasn’t fair to you to always feel like the only one in this relationship.

Most of your time was spent in whatever motel room the boys scammed themselves into for the night. Dean didn’t want you on hunts unless it was absolutely necessary for you to be in their line of sight, so the most action you saw on a regular basis was walking to the closest diner for a bite to eat; sometimes ordering to-go so you could go watch whatever was on television as a way to entertain yourself. It used to be like clockwork — Sam would take his nightly walks so you and Dean could make up for lost time, but as of late it seemed like he preferred to catch up with a case of beer.

Dean takes one last swig of the bottle before wiping his mouth and standing, turning to grab his jacket and keys while mumbling some sort of goodbye under his breath, eventually exiting the motel room completely. The tears fall as soon as the door clicks and you’re left to cling onto one of the pillows for dear life, sobbing harder as his lingering scent hits your nostrils. You were hoping Sam would extend his walk and God knows wherever Dean went, not really wanting either Winchester to see you in your current state.

You found yourself at a crossroads. Was it still worth it to stay? Most of your relationship was spent on the road and living out of motels. Dean didn’t have the career path that would warrant him want to settle down long-term, and there’s no way you wouldn’t feel guilty for bringing a child into this lifestyle. It was sustainable in the early days when the two of you were younger, the combination of puppy love and high sex drives keeping you two attached at the hip. Now the two of you were getting older and you were wondering if it was ever going to be more than weapons, late night check-ins and random dive bars.

Would settling down even be the answer? There was a part of you that still yearned to be a wife and a mother, but you couldn’t live with yourself if you pulled Dean away from the only lifestyle he’d known. Realistically, he wouldn’t be able to be stationary for more than a few days at a time and he wouldn’t even know what to do with a pet, let alone a child. He’d get the itch to go back to hunting before the first box would get unpacked. You would never get that if you stayed and you loved Dean too much to just up and leave, but at some point you had to choose yourself.

Sam had beaten his older brother home, but you were gone before Dean had made it back. Packing everything into a bag you headed off to the nearest diner, grabbing a bite to eat before calling yourself a taxi. Your phone was going off with calls and texts from the Winchester boys, but your phone was on silent as the yellow cab drove you to the next town over.

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #37

What's poppin party people, today is PKNA #32: Underground and I'm gonna be completely honest here, this is like the only chapter in PKNA that I straight up do not like. Like this chapter kinda.... suck. And like I have no idea if this is a hot take or not cause I don't really know what the general fandom consensus is on individual chapters, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say I would be really surprised if there were like really passionate Underground defenders out there.

Hold on EAST coast?? I thought this chapter took place in Duckburg did these motherfuckers travel across the ENTIRE UNITED STATES??? No wonder they went fucking insane. uuuh spoilers I guess who cares bro.

I spent most of my first reading trying to figure out if this character is a guy or a girl and I'm like 80% sure at this point that it's a guy? But like you know what we're just gonna assign you as nonbinary, your criminal GNC asf

THE SNOOOZEERRRRR wait caoi already posted this panel FUCK

HE SAID THE THING HE SAID THE NAME OF THE COMI

The earlier narration said this was 8 months later but now he's saying they've spent six months in the sewer so, what happened to the other two months? Maybe they actually went outside idk

IS... IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?? TEARS WELLING UP IN MY EYES HAVE THEY FINALLY LET MY BOY OUT OF THE WELL

Top 10 conversations of all time

these drawings bro camera 9 looks like a bigfoot i can't fucking breathe

In the middle of a crime debriefing and this bitch is snacking on candies

Uno invented his own ipad like a decade early, good for him!!

I don't think I'll ever get over the way the rats are drawn in this panel. They're just so... shaped. It looks like someone tried to draw a rat without ever having actually seen a rat, and they were only given vague descriptions of what a rat might be by a third party. Where are their necks. They have frog anatomy. It's just body and mouth. Phenomenal.

Donald Duck gets hit by a train and fucking dies (ASMR)

HDL MENTION 🔥🔥🔥

EXTRAORDINARY REPAIRS LIKE- LI-

Oh he's NOT being a snoozer right now. He's failing really hard. Embarrassing.

ummm... nooooooo I dunno what you're talking about this is a regular building with exactly 150 floors

IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE A YOUNGER ANGUS FANGUS??? HE HAD HAIR?!??!?!??!!

Little melodramatic there, eh pal? Also those are clearly rats not mice. Idiot.

This is so fucking funny sorry. This panel is my fav part of the comic.

Don't worry guys, PK is here to save the da-

nevermind.

HALF NAKED WOMEN AT THE CLUB IN MY DONALD DUCK COMIC OKAY

Okay sooo I was right this comic is like. It exists. It's there. It ended so much quicker than I remember as well? PK doesn't do hardly anything to stop the bad guys, and 2 out of 3 of them get caught off-screen I guess. Yay for saving Angus? I guess?? I dunno man, we could just wipe this chapter off the face of the earth and literally nothing would change.

The GOOD news is that we have an ACTUAL banger afterwards cause IT'S MORE XADHOOM COMIC YAYYYY YAYAYAY SOMETHING GOOD

I don't think I actually have any good commentary here other than this art slaps (again) and I'm sticking it in my MOUTH.

Oh.

Anyways speaking of Xerba haha I'll catch you in a little bit while we take a brief detour to the next special issue where we get to watch Xadhoom's planet get genocided in real time!!!

[puckpocketed]

good morning puckpocketed it is @wehaveagathering from my main blog! I was wondering (and if you have already talked about this link me!) what your feelings are on the sharks upcoming offseason, who you're hoping for them to draft, who you're excited to see play either in their nhl or ahl roster, anything! :]

first of all. hello wehaveagathering dot tumblr my sour gummy candy my bespoke watchface my press-on nails....! thank you so much for dropping by <33 hearing from you is like oughh hello microcelebrity who decided i was cool... !!!! ok. deep inhale. I present to you:

puckpocketeds sharks offseason roundup

I am of two minds with Sharks hockey:

Nothing will ever go as I expect/predict because Mike Grier works in mysterious ways (Hertl trade was a wild day) and given I am following the San Jose Sharks ...we are here for a laff first and foremost. At least until we're competitive again. No point in thinking too hard because it ain't that serious and i have 0 control over what happens <3

On the other hand . kljsdalkjsdkl I am reading Elite Prospects' draft guide like the morning paper and absorbing massive amounts of data about my little guys and listening to podcasts and also following juniors games (you may have seen my very regular and hinged Memorial Cup Posting) and, yes, I even watched college hockey . I am unofficially the prospects slide maker for the Sharks Primer that I haven't opened in a week.

You may have asked the one person on tumblr who can give you an unskippable cutscene i hope ur ready for an unskippable cutscene !

General Off-season stuff/contracts

i am being fed off the scraps of Henry Thrun + Devin Cooley interviews in scf post-game shows and stalking all of our beat reporters. i have all of them with notifications ON and they keep doing really funny stuff like suggesting Draisaitl coming to the sharks. also . wekky and keebs are hanging out with Alex Holtz this summer and it is THEE best thing ever. matching slides for you in these trying times? feeling very deprived of sharks hockey but sustaining myself by having little breakdowns about it with friends :3

Couture is the biggest question of the off-season to me. The plan rn is that he will be ready to play by opening night, if all goes well during his rehab. He's our captain, the team looked visibly improved when he was on the ice for the gorgeous 6 game stretch that he played with us last season (Coochie era you will always be famous), and honestly I think his contribution to morale is more valuable than anything else he brings to the ice. There's no chance he gets moved right now given his contract and health, but there's a chance he never plays another NHL game... his health and readiness to play determines who the Sharks target for acquisitions and what our team looks like down the middle (where our two biggest prospects, who are both centers, will end up). so much hinges on whether or not Cooch is healthy!! but at this point I'm just rooting for his long-term health no matter what happens with the team !!

To preface any contract talk; the vibe about Mike Grier is he’s wary of giving out long term stuff in light of his predecessor leaving behind the husk of Marc-Edouard Vlasic (said with deep affection) and several other nearly immovable contracts. pundits don't really see him giving anyone term unless they’re Confirmed Core Players and i agree! other than that... i don't have serious takes or predictions about term/dollar amounts. HOPES and DREAMS and PSYCHEDELIC VISIONS, on the other hand...

We're gonna lose some of our guys to free agency because they're. um. untradeable and not very good </3 (Hoffman, Labanc, Barabanov <- this one is a special case, Barbie's deal fell through because the Hertl trade happened and we're using our last retention slot on him) and whilst I do love the ongoing Bit of uncle Mike and sweet cousin Kevin, this frees us up to go looking for some guys who can mentor our young core!! (I hope Labanc gets a second chance somewhere and shows everyone that the sharks monumentally fumbled the bag on yet another ex wife !!)

The doors are open for free agency acquisitions... Everyone's throwing around big names but I think they're forgetting the fact that we actually gotta convince them to come to San Jose LMAO. cost of living + basement team unlikely to be serious about a cup run for at least another 4-5 years = not the most appealing place to go. We have seen speculation about FAs ranging from Stamkos to Marner lmaoooooo and i'll be honest I don't want to add to all that. I just hope whatever old man we staple to our youth he's fun and NOT a criminal !

For our other UFAs:

I'd like to see us re-sign Justin Bailey because he worked really hard for us down the stretch. we poached him from the cuda early on because all of our forwards were exploding and never gave him back even when everyone started getting healthy again! Maybe he can go help our cuda not flop <333

Jacob MacDonald holds a very special place in my heart because we like making multi-class jokes (he was forced to play forward for a big chunk of his time w the sharks even though hes a d-man LMAO) . I find his work ethic charming <3 he's done everything they've asked of him, and he's honestly done it Not Terribly. I would LIKE for the sharks to offer him a place here due to sentiment and i sort of think he's a sleeper depth pick…. but it seems less and less likely given that we’re going to market for d-men and we’ll have more forwards healthy next season.

Ryan Carpenter is another cuda acquisition we never gave back and is our beautiful returned shark son <33 he was a steady 4th line center throughout the Horrors. however, we were trying out one of our younger guys in that position (hello jack studnicka!!) towards the end of the season and im really wondering if we'll see him up with the sharks again. He's a great AHL player and I see him helping the cuda become competitive if we bring him back!

Devin Cooley my beloved. our junior shark. our silly rabbit. some context: the sharks org is doing something very strange and deeply funny with their goalie situation. we have like 6 of them and i genuinely have no clue where this is going. Optimistically, Cooley gets a something thrown at him because he's shown the ability to grow under the limited tutelage of our Very Good Goalie Coach Thomas Speer + he's a great feel-good story !! less optimistically... he gets traded on the draft floor because we can't have shit in san jose (KNOCKING ON TEN MILLIOB WOOD)

Our RFA sitch is a mixed bag:

Luke Kunin absolutely comes back. barring offer-we-can't-refuse type deals... they love him here. Is he GOOD? well no <3 analytics-wise, he is our worst performing forward and actively makes his lineys worse. but (and i imagine this is whats going on in sharks front office discussions) must a goonwag do silly things like "play hockey"?? can't he just get all snarly when our guys are pushed around? can't he play leg weight to our beloved prized prospects? teach them how to drive a line despite being hamstrung by the sloppiest turnovers ever? cant he just be sophia's less accomplished trophy husband...........???? also in his defence, he should never have been our 2nd line center. but everyone else exploded so !!! anyway I think he would flourish with fewer minutes and easier match ups on the 3rd/4th line. i want to see him hanging out in a depth position next season and goonwagging it up <3

I watched Thomas Bordeleau really work to solidify his place in the lineup towards the end of the season. I love his absolute determination to finish every game fighting. I am SO proud to call him a shark and he's become one of my favourite little guys <3 I knowww everyone knows him from the Narratives but EYE got to know him through his hockey and I am WRETCHEDLY endeared by it. He will stare down a 0-4 scoreline and keep playing hard no matter what, he has sprinted down the ice with seconds on the clock to make a play and ough ough oughhhhhghgh he is SO special to me okay !!!! okay. And I truly think that gmmg has to see that. They're trying to build culture here... something about being hard to play against, having will and size and skill.... Bordy doesn’t fit the Big Boys vision that Grier is open about chasing, but he does bring the attitude and work ethic… I want him to stay forever <3 next year is his breakout year MARK MY WORDS!!!!!

Henry Thrun was a bit up and down but honestly who on this accursed roster wasn't?? Some nights he was unironically our most effective d-man (as much as one can be on the 23-24 sharks) other nights he was competing in a flop contest with Pickles <3 i would like to see him get more pp minutes next season and work on being consistent, which I absolutely believe he can achieve. our beautiful draft dodger + harvard double major <3

Ty Emberson is a complete mystery to me. I've seen him play like 3 games. he's been very injured this season. I liked what I saw when he was on? Making his slides was SO hard ill be honest, there's so little out there about him. but i have a soft spot a mile wide for reliable stay at home d-men, i hope he gets a fair shot. also hes mackblack's bestie and nobody knows that and i need everybody to know that he has a special bond with his goalie like his defensemen forefathers . thats our defensive defenseman and his goalie okay . okau.

Calen Addison is . listen okay I love our little guy. let him say fuck!!! but he hasn't done well this year and this was sort of supposed to be his fresh start. what I want is that he stays on the sharks and turns things around and goes on to blast all his haters. I'm not very sure any of that will happen.

I can't be objective about Filip Zadina. I will not lie. I want him to succeed very badly but also I love our failwife dearly regardless... high draft pick who was touted as a goal scorer... can't let go of that identity... every coach hes ever had psychoanalyses him and is a leeetle obsessed with nursing him back to health like a sickly baby bird <3. gmmg give him 8x8 ! his place on this roster is very uncertain given that this was his 'prove it' year and it didn't go super well. i dread losing him. every day that ticks by where we don't hear about him re-signing leaves me less and less hope

Jack Studnicka compels me so much. We call him Dave . dont ask. He's in the process of shaking off his previous identity as a playmaking center and his anxieties/insecurities about uhhh having to fill the gaping hole in the Bruins' forward core left behind by a bunch of their veterans leaving. He's learning how to drive a checking/energy line and I feel a tenderness for him I can't describe... he's almost almost made it to the show and he will do whatever it takes to stay.

regarding certain trade rumours

There is once again trade buzz around Mario Ferraro.

...i think the rest of the league is under the impression he’s a top 4 calibre d-man. this is very funny and also i’m terrified that gmmg will trade him because of this. You truly don’t get a feel for how little any given team’s media pays attention to other teams - how little the national media pays attention to the western conference good GOD — until you follow the cali polycule.

if any disappointed Leafs fans are reading this after it was suggested they aren't looking to acquire him anymore . my brother in christ. Mario only eats those minutes because he’s got seniority here by default !!!! we simply do not have anyone else because they’re injured or they suck!!! i would go to war for our youtuber ,hes the greatest gamer and d-man in the entire league in my heart BUT i do have eyes and as the kids would say . he has improper crosshair placement and can't mulligan to play on curve </3

And for nuance…. perhaps there IS something to the fact that Mario was like .the only one who survived the 2019-2023 San Jose Rookie Woodchipper/Meatgrinder/Hydraulic press. idk. i wasn't there. He’s had a career high year this year (not that 21 points is that high asdljkasklj but. again. 23-24 sharks) so maybe he’s just waiting for the right conditions to break out, a team where he isn’t solely responsible for gluing the shambles together, and all the chatter about him being a prime trade target is true and this summer will be when his trade value is at its highest. it still doesn’t change his value to this team as a locker room personality and leader. He’s made zero statements about wanting to leave. the current regime does do Personality Hires and Intangibles (see Luke Kunin and i suppose now the Goodrow acquisition??), we can’t have our upcoming d-core thrown into the deep end without some mentorship and it certainly isn’t gonna come from Pickles — not that he can’t, i just believe in Marc-Edouard Vlasic’s right to be a bitch in peace! no one is untouchable but im 90% sure Ferraro stays.

THE DRAFT AND OUR PROSPECT SITUATION

The Sharks currently hold picks 1, 14, and 33. 1OA is spoken for <3 so 14 and 33 are the ones we care about here. (we have a bunch of later picks to play with as well — 42, 85, 116, 138, 143, and 194 if anyone was curious <3) And okay okay so,, Mike Grier was hired 2 days before the draft in 2022, which means 2023 was his first real draft year and this year will be his second. realistically, we simply do not have a lot of data for his drafting tendencies, nor will we know his 'hit' rate until years from now. our current pool, while thin, is looking... good? tentatively? the class of 2023 did very well. more on them later. so accounting for lack of data... i truly have NO idea whats going on except maybe we're leaning towards deepening our defensive prospect pool + throw in a goalie, and a slight preference for physicality and size but like thats every headass GM on the planet right now??? (as i type this out, ozzy weisblatt has been traded away for a someone over 6ft tall!! the mike grier big boy plan strikes again….)

so. i won't speak to who i think the sharks will draft but you will get to hear a very rough essay fragment i don’t think i’ll ever finish:

something i’ve been thinking about lately between reading all of these prospect draft profiles (and to an extent, making prospect slides for the sharks) is how few guys make it to the big show. these 17-18 year olds have dense paragraphs written about their puck handling and skating and hockey IQ — i enjoy the stylish ones that say stuff like “he’s the most creative forward in this year’s draft, he’ll dangle your best over a cliff” the most — but how many of them will pan out in the end? here, i could pull up the numbers. i don’t need to. we all know there are only so many nhl contracts to hand out, and only so many stalls in a locker room.

i’ve grown attached to a few names though their draft profiles. there are little threads of narrative you can catch from reading their game reports in chronological order. some of them visibly gain confidence month to month as they solidify their identity within the system and team they play on, some of them master board battles, some of them find their scoring touch. i am charmed by the interview fragments i’ve seen, their stupid answers to "what animal would you be?", the silly facts livetweeted by scouts at the combine. many of them come highly touted — the 2nd-12th project as almost certain NHLers. i’ve seen them shine in their juniors and ncaa matches. I feel like they must be destined for greatness.

Yet, i go back into the histories — a year ago, two years ago, five years ago, thirty years and beyond — and the histories tell me that no matter what was being said the day they got drafted, anything could happen. 7th overall buried in the press box. 123rd overall breaks a scoring record in his d+1 year. 29th overall carves out a regular spot on the first line and goes on to score 40 goals. 1st overall never scores more than 62 goals in the NHL. it's probably not smart of me to become invested in so many when, statistically, a whole lot of them will fail to live up to their projections. in the back of my heart, right behind all the inadvisable sentiment, lives a scream of frustration. it isn't fair that for the majority of these kids, the draft is as close to the nhl as they'll ever get. i hate that not everyone will get to reach for the stars. my heart will be broken when one or more of my favourites inevitably burns out of the league. and the real horror is knowing all this hasn't stopped me from becoming endeared.

my current draft favourites, no thoughts head empty if i could have any of these guys on the sharks:

Berkly Catton absolutely will fall to 14th overall in my HEART!!! this stupid league and its stupid preoccupation with tallgirls. doesn't matter that some of the best players hockey has ever seen were under 6ft tall <3 doesn't matter that high impact nhl players RIGHT NOW are hanging out around the 5'10 mark. Berkly Catton is elite stock by so many metrics except for his size (5'11, ~163lbs) and THAT will ensure he falls in the draft. and the dream is if he falls to 14th we snap him up and he comes to hang out in cali <3 i love his fish-eyed blank stare. he said he'd be a dolphin because they're slippery <3 and here's the short version of what I've read per his draft profile: he played on a bad team, with heavy minutes, being targeted by every opposing team as the only threat, and still doubled his output during his draft year. all of this while he worked hard in his own zone, dedicating himself to the more 'boring' aspects of the game. like he will hustle for a backcheck god BLESS. i love when skilled guys are defensively responsible SO MUCH. what little i've seen myself of his raw skill is incredible. magical hands maintained with speed. i also like how much he scans. i love being freaked out about a highlight, wondering how he knew where his teammates were, scrubbing the video back and seeing him scan the ice regularly. its beautiful. just like playing league of legends jungle . ahaha <3

if not Catton, then Andrew Basha at 14th, and if not then 33rd. Despite how high some draft boards have him, the reviews are mixed as hell due to the Spectre of Gavin McKenna and Cayden Lindstrom that hangs over him. It did not stop him from having an incredibly strong season in the WHL. fast, skilled, works hard. puck mover. in learning about hockey, I have come to love transition forwards SO much. Troy Terry was my favourite Duck to watch when he wasn't exploding <3 Controlled zone entries are soooo gifable to me. i got no clue if Basha will be available at 33 - a few are predicting he falls to the second round - or if the sharks would want him even then, but I would love to see him on the Sharks! if his speed and skill on breakouts can translate to the NHL it would be bitchin!!!!!! also, I have this idea in my head that he's already used to playing with elite talent and so wont be swallowed up by the huge shadows celebrini and smith will cast. maybe he can manage egos, maybe he's just really good at working around prodigies, maybe he's a prodigy himself, who knows!! I am compelled though!!

for d-men... Zayne Parekh. There are serious concerns scouts have with this guy's game. he is described by some as thee boom-or-bust prospect of this year's draft. dynamic as hell offensive defenseman, does things no other prospect in this draft would even think to do and . um. sometimes that thing is turning over the puck <3!!! or, as a random red wings podcast i was listening to this afternoon said: With Parekh, you might get Erik Karlsson, or you might get Erik Karlsson. and listen if you made it this far down you gotta understand that im a deeply unserious person about these things and this DID convince me that we GOTTA get him somehow. tbqh i wanted the Ducks to draft him because he was tragically separated from his bestie Pavel Mintyukov and i think a reunion would bring about an unprecedented era of world peace. but also. if they were on RIVAL TEAMS in the BATTLE FOR CALIFORNIA!!!!!!! oh that would be delicious <3 There's absolutely no way Parekh falls to 14th but this list isn't about realism its about my silly little dreams <3

Cole Hutson at 33 or 42 purely because i'm a fan of Lane Hutson (so so so jazzed to watch him play next season on either laval or montreal!!!!!) and they are similarly shifty and small. there is NO way mike 'you must be this tall to ride' grier drafts another 5'10 puck mover (<- more on this guy in a min). a fella can dream though <3

prospects who are my special little guys

Luca Cagnoni

ok quick recap. mike grier drafted Luca Cagnoni at 123rd last year. he is 5'10 (generously <3) and he's so special to meeeee <3 He's always been an offensive ROCKET!! so smart. WILL break ankles. great puck mover. great distributor on the pp. he's been working on his defence this year.

NO ONE THINKS HE'LL MAKE IT IN THE NHL BECAUSE HE'S LITTLE BUT EYE DO!!!!!!! If you go and check the Luca Cagnoni tag its literally just me and 1 other person. that 1 other person is now my friend. sometimes, my other sharks compatriots join in. but such is the nature of adopting a special little guy !!!

I get all misty-eyed thinking about how far he's come, from being undrafted in the WHL, falling to the 4th round in the NHL entry draft, and going on to have the strongest season a d-man in the WHL has had in 30 years. and yes he WAS the 123rd overall pick i was referring to earlier. He signed his ELC and it was the event of the offseason (to ME). it was more meaningful to me than the will smith signing i will be so real right now . I am hoping and praying that Luca gets a chance on the Sharks and flourishes.

sorry. sorry. i will NOT shut up about Luca Cagnoni. mike grier took a huge swing at the fences for him, he is so out of the gmmg wheelhouse its hysterical and i am genuinely shocked we drafted him. i wasn't there for it obviously but what was the draft floor like that day?? were people asking him Are You Sure, Sir. I'd have asked. i'd have knocked on his bald ass head to check if it was hollow (i, a bald person, can say this <3)

despite this. Luca Cagnoni WILL make it. ON GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kasper Halttunen

ok you saw me mem cup posting. this one isn't as deep!

i think he's got that dawg in him. him and his nepobaby london knights team were fun to watch!!!

i liked that he was squeezing denver barkey like a chew toy (gifed it, even!!!)

i am genuinely obsessed with the comments he leaves on other prospects' instagram posts. i've only looked around at a couple but yeah he's sure got a sense of humour <3

i would LOVE to see him develop out his 2-way game a little more and refine his beautiful bomb of a shot even further. i am excited to see how he progresses!!

bring him to the AHL as soon as possible gmmg i need to watch him squeeze the life out of his fellow sharks prospects

Macklin Celebrini

Alright this one seems so obvious because he's 1OA and automatically special BUT you guyyyyys. you guyyyyysss.... he's soooo good. I watched a couple of his college matches. I went back and watched some of his worlds matches. i have devoured so much literature on him. remember when I said i love when skilled players are defensively responsible?? Macklin Celebrini is that guy !! he is just so Shaped. the shape is Round. he is well-rounded like the beautiful sphere . the sphere where we will be drafting him. <3 yay !!!

no joke he IS a bit of a goon. finished his checks with a surprising amount of brutality in all the games i watched !! and like he had to be, I imagine he was getting targeted to hell and back in the NCAA. being 17 and playing against grown men. i like that he's got a bit of bite!!

listen, when the scouts and journos and pundits and coaches say he's "got a motor", what they mean is HE IS RELENTLESS. HE WILL NOT GIVE UP ON A PLAY. HE WILL RUN YOU DOWN AND THEN TURN AROUND AND SCORE ON YOU. HIS TEAM FOLLOWS HIS LEAD.

I just... I get the feeling he raises the people around him up to his standards because they can't help but want to match his intensity. I get the feeling that he is, aside from a great player, a great fit for the kind of culture the Sharks are trying to build. the Never Say Die Team. the We Will Eat You Team. i am completely, utterly endeared by his work ethic.

I think his little :^| face is so funny. i have posted about this before but when he smiles it looks like he has a few too many teeth and its GREAT. our shark. OUR SHARK!!!!!!

Honourable mentions:

Danil Gushchin: undersized creative forward with soft hands heloooo i love uou. mwah. unseat one of our girlfailure depth players next season i want to see u in the nhl <33

Shakir Mukhamadullin: Shak my noodleshark . he will absolutely see NHL ice full time next season if we remain bare on defence, so im not sure he counts anymore as a prospect. i believe in him so bad!!!!!!!!!!!

Georgi Romanov: unironically I think hes our only realistic hope for a Goalie of the Future. please survive the sharkuda experience my love <3

Will Smith: ROBBED of the hobey baker by our very own macklin celebrini. doesn't matter because he scored a dicktrick at hockey east finals and that shit was funny as hell. i think of him in terms of his boybestfriends BC Line which is forever shattered by his decision to sign with the sharks which means hes the driver of tragedy which makes him ELITE in my eyes.

honourable mentions 2 (obscure non-sharks edition):

Isaiah George: i fear i will actually have to watch the NY Islanders soon enough when they play him . i was watching the London Knights for Kasper and, as I do sometimes, I was struck by lightning after seeing him do something really interesting. I think I can probably go find the exact tags from when he first caught my eye. anyway! i am invested in him now and there is 0 current coverage on him !! ough my smooth skating defensive defenseman <333

Aatu Jamsen: a high skill/flashy forward the la kings signed to his ELC not too long ago <3 excited to see him play for the Ontario Reign. his lore is incredible. not to shill my own blog but i did a small post about him here and i am BEGGING everyone to go find out about him he moonlights as a RAP MUSICIAN!!!!. lak do not to bury him in the AHL forever im on my KNEES

Xavier Simoneau: les habs and their prospects got me. little guy (5'6) who is a bit fight-y. can and WILL go to battle against huge opponents for a puck and WIN. i look at him and slap my knee and i think. god damn he might actually do it. he might actually make the NHL.

Okay I think I will stop here before i start goin off about all the little guys i have tucked away...!! thank you for your time. thank you for handing me a mic and an excuse to yell about my little fellas. wehaveagathering dot tumblr you are thee flyers source to me. our failteams will soon share a shade of oranmge. I am very excited to fall in love with them!! <3

[insomniac-jay]

Vulnerability

Falling in love is hard for someone whose never been open with themselves. Something they crave yet deny themselves because it means having to be vulnerable.

Or; Regina and Billy come to terms with the fact that they're two sides of the same coin.

Notes: Absolutely insane amounts of cooking done here, takes place a few weeks after this, if this somehow appears in the main tags I'm gonna crash out, if enough people ask I will write a part 2 that's more angsty, cigarette divider made by @/saradika-graphics, Tumblr please give us paragraph breaks in the next update please 🙏

@mayacondotcom

Regina clocked in. Right now she just needed something to distract her. Fast. Embarrassment was something she didn't know how to deal with; mainly because she actively avoided those situations. She liked being one or two steps ahead; or the thought of it. Her pride had been under attack lately. First her getting blackout drunk and waking up in outside clothes instead of comfy pajamas. Now sleeping in and her truck breaking down.

Much like summer in the region, things were slow at the shop. Aside from her own truck and a few regulars bringing in their cars for annual check ups, nothing of note really happened nor would for possibly the rest of the day. Sensing this, Regina took her break early. She ate some Skittles while her mind traveled back to two days ago, when she met Billy. It was the middle of the afternoon and her shift at the gas station just started. She read a magazine to fight boredom when he came in. She'd never seen him around town. Not if his attire and the strange tattoo sprawled across his arm had anything to say about it.

What the hell kinda tat even is that? She popped some more Skittles in her mouth. He need to sue whoever did it for him. Or maybe it's a military thing?

"You aight, Gigi?" Karen sat across from her. A small personal goal of hers was to figure out why she cared about her so much one of these days. The older woman looked down at the candy with disapproval. "You always eatin' candy an' snacks."

"I get by."

Karen shook her head. "Don't ya ever want a home cooked meal? Something that'll fill ya up?"

Before Regina could answer, the bell rang. Her eyes met a familiar pair of dark ones as the man who stood at the front desk was none other than Billy. Today he wore a crisp white tank top that actually fit him and a pair of light denim jeans. She couldn't see his feet but if she had to guess, he wore the same scuffed boots as the day they met.

Billy gazed at her. He recognized her as the lady from the gas station. Now in proper lighting, he had to admit she was pretty. Her coily hair tied back into a ponytail, dark brown eyes, and skin of the same hue. Her outfit a navy blue jumpsuit with the logo of the shop above her name tag.

Regina. Rolls right off the tongue.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Y'all got tires?" Billy kept his eyes on Regina, much to her dismay. When he told her he'd see her around, this wasn't what he meant. But that's what he had to expect in a small town. On her end, she wondered what was he doing and who gave him those clothes. Maybe it was the fact he was a guy who just moved into town without any prior chatter, but she couldn't help but sense something dark about him. He already raised her suspicions with his 'deployment'. Her gaze stayed on him as he walked over to the tires.

"She your daughter, er, granddaughter?" Billy asked.

"Hm? Oh, no. Gigi's like one to me, though," Karen replied. "Why?"

"Nothin'. Just askin'." Billy handed her some cash then picked up the tire with one arm. "Keep the change. See ya." He took one last look at Regina before leaving. Something told him they'd be seeing each other again soon.

As much as she claimed to not be a social butterfly, Regina often found herself at the bar. Not necessarily to drink but mostly for somewhere else to be. She just finished sharpening her cue stick for a solo game of pool. That's weird. I haven't seen Billy around in a while. She then realized what she said and made a disgusted face. Now why the hell am I thinking about that man? Get a grip!

Regina focused back on her game. She couldn't believe she was thinking about some random man. Last time she did anything like that was when she was a teenager going through hormones and puberty.

After an uneventful night at the bar, she drove back home. A cheesy love song played on the radio. Her mind wandered back to Karen's dream. Regina herself wasn't spiritual or religious. However, she kept having a strange feeling about it--like it was true. And that part scared Regina the most. Her track record wasn't the best when it came to interpersonal relationships. She never let anyone get too close, using being a private person as an excuse. When someone referred to her as their friend, she let them. She had no problem getting guys, either.

Plus, she lived in a small town in the Bible Belt. She was privy to all types of relationship drama.

But when the alcohol started to lose its taste and the blunt stopped hitting, she wished for someone to come home to after work. Those three fateful words spilling out of some guy's mouth. She dreamed of watching the sunset with an imaginary husband. The little girl who called herself a princess from all those years ago was still in her heart. Things she swore she hated--romance movies, the couples on her college campus, Valentine's Day--all came from a place of envy.

Jesus Christ, pull yourself together. You're 26, she said to herself as she wiped a stray tear falling down her face. Karen said I was sitting by a fire in a white dress being held by a man. His soul was dark and tortured but he looked peaceful holding me in his arms. We...we both did.

Regina quietly got out of the truck once she got home. She needed a blunt badly.

She saw Billy sitting on his porch, a blunt in one hand and a beer bottle in the other. His tank top was gray with a pair of black pajama pants. Of course he lives in the trailer next to me. "What are you doing out here?"

"Nothin'." Billy curiously scanned Regina as she climbed the stairs to her trailer. She wore a simple little black dress and some heels that brought out her legs. Her makeup was minimal: only some dark eye shadow and shimmery lip gloss. Her attire seemed more fitted for a club than a bar. What really stood out to him were her tattoos. He may not have known her well but she seemed like the last person to ever have any. "Nice ink you got there."

"...thanks. You too." Regina flustered a bit. He was definitely checking her out. To be honest, she did the same thing when they first met. Was this normal? She rushed inside before she did or said anything she'd regret.

Billy looked up at the starry night sky. He thought his life was over the moment the judge gave him his sentence. That he'd die alone as a scapegoat. Yet here he was. Alive. Free. Living in this town would take some getting used to but as long as he was off the government's radar, he'd take it.

Regina woke up to the sound of knocking on her door. She looked at the time with half open eyes. Bitch, it's 8 in the morning. This better be important. She slowly trudged to the door and opened it. "What-" Her eyes widened at Billy standing in front of her. Upon closer inspection, she could see a faint aftershave around his mouth and on his chin. Not to mention they appeared to be the same height.

"Think you can drive me 'round today?" She wondered where he came from. His accent wasn't exactly Texan but sounded dangerously close. "I got some, uh, errands to run."

"Sure. Just let me get dressed," Regina half tiredly, half skeptically replied. She deliberated whether or not he was telling the truth while she threw on some sweats and slippers. Meanwhile, Billy waited outside. He took note of how decorated the 'mudroom' was. Clearly this wasn't her first time living in a trailer, let alone a park.

"Alright. Let's go." Regina walked out in a hot pink sweatsuit and cheap plastic slippers of the same color. He had to admit it looked great on her. "Real stylish, doll."

"Do you call every woman that?"

"What?"

"Do you call every woman doll? It gets annoying after a while." Regina pulled out of the driveway and onto the dirt road. "I bet you only do that to get in their pants."

"Nah, I ain't that kinda man. 'sides, would you like me to call you Regina?"

Regina stopped the truck in an instant then glared at him. "How do you know my name?"

"From the auto shop, remember? I was pickin' up a tire for someone. Your name was on one of those nametag patches." Billy maintained his nonchalant composure. "It's not like I know your Christian name. Not yet."

"Yeah, yeah. I remember." Regina started driving again. Their first stop was a house--which she quickly realized was Karen's after she saw Travis waiting outside. Apparently, he'd been giving Billy his old clothes or ones he couldn't fit anymore. She hoped Karen somehow didn't see her and Billy but knew she would. Hopefully neither her or Travis got the wrong idea about them.

The two were back on the road after the first stop. "So, Billy, what brings you to town?"

"I told you, deployment." Billy's eyebrow slightly twitched. Just because he was still getting acquainted didn't mean he trusted anyone yet. Him faking his death wouldn't stop anyone out there willing to expose the truth.

"Bullshit. This place ain't near no type of military base and that's not even how the shit works."

His lips tightened. She's smart. Maybe this'll be interesting. "Been thinkin' 'bout me a whole lot, have you?"

Regina rolled her eyes. She earned the right to pick his brain. "Anyway, where are you from?"

"Between Arkansas and Texas."

Explains the accent, Regina thought to herself. "You lived in a trailer?" Billy nodded. "With my meemaw and pawpaw." He suddenly went quiet remembering how heartbroken his grandparents were during the trial. How his grandmother died believing her grandson was a criminal. How his grandfather couldn't look him in the eye anymore and probably also died thinking the same thing. Another reminder of how alone he truly was. A hand gently touched his arm. He looked down and saw it was Regina's. "You got quiet."

"It-it's nothing." He looked out the window to distract himself. "What about you?"

"I..." Was she really about to talk about herself to a complete stranger? "I'm from South Carolina. I lived in trailers my whole life too. It...it's the only thing I know." Her eyes softened thinking about her childhood. There would be little Regina in her own little world playing with her toys or watching movies on the VHS while waiting for her parents. Sometimes when she got done with homeschooling early, she'd go out and ride her bike around the neighborhood.

Most of the residents were older people and there weren't many kids. Still, Regina found ways to not be bored. As long as she had her toys, books, or the tapes, she was perfectly fine.

It was Billy's turn to offer her some comfort. He wiped a tear forming in her eye with his thumb. She gazed into his eyes and him into hers. They continued the rest of the ride in silence, unsure of what to say.

As soon as Regina got inside her trailer, she panicked. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Was I about to cry in front of him? Why did I even tell him where I'm from?" She could never forget how her heart skipped a beat when he brushed the tear from her eye. She never experienced anything like that before. "I need a beer."

Billy was red in the face. It was the first time in a long time he'd ever spoken about his grandparents, much less to someone else. The gentleness of Regina's touch or her softened eyes wouldn't leave his mind. Pull yerself together. You don't know her that well.

"Hey, Karen?"

"Yes, Gigi?"

"What's it like being in love?"

Karen looked up from her paperwork in both shock and curiosity. Usually it was her asking Regina questions. "What do you mean?"

"How...how do you know when you're in love?" Regina flustered. All she could think about was Billy wiping her tear away. To her surprise (and dismay), she wasn't, or couldn't be, mad at him. She never really let anyone touch her, at least not without her permission, so for her to let him do that was shocking. It was almost like she...craved it.

"Well," Karen began. "When my Darrell was still alive, I knew I was in love with him when I felt like I could be my truest self to and around him. I used to be really shy when I was younger so he used to do things that brought me out of my shell. Why?"

Regina was quiet before answering. "A-a few days ago, Billy came over to my place and asked me to drive him around so he could run some errands."

"I asked him some questions since he's the new guy in town and...and..." The scene flashed before her eyes. She could vividly remember everything. The cool air blowing on her skin, the feel of his hand on her face, the darkness of his eyes. "I was remembering some things. I didn't realize I was about to cry until he...he wiped a tear away."

Karen's mouth formed an 'O'. "Are you mad at him?"

"N-no. I don't know why." These emotions were becoming too much for her to handle. "It's just wiping a stupid tear. It shouldn't be affecting me this much." Her eyes welled with tears as Karen brought her into her embrace. For the first time in many years, Regina hugged someone. In a twist of fate, she admitted the truth.

"I'm lonely, Karen. I'm so fucking lonely."

Karen said nothing and just let the young woman cry on her shoulder. Once Regina calmed down, she finally got a question she'd been waiting to ask off her chest. "Why do you care for me?"

"You're a lotta things to me. A friend, a coworker, a daughter, a granddaughter. I was like you once. After my husband died and I left Louisiana, I was really lonely. But then I met you." Karen smiled fondly, remembering the day she moved into town and met Regina.

"You consider me your friend?"

"Of course I do! You may not realize or see it, Gigi, but you're loved. You just have to put yourself out there."

Since that day, a massive weight had been lifted off Regina's shoulders. Of course she didn't fully change her personality; she just got a little more social. One problem stood in her way, though: Billy. The two had been avoiding each other for a few weeks. Them being neighbors didn't help either. Usually she wouldn't be bothered by something like this. It shouldn't have stung Regina whenever he saw her and looked away yet it did.

She'd just returned from the newly renovated gaming hall when she saw Billy standing outside. The feeling from that fateful moment in the truck returned as she got out and walked towards him. "What are you doing here?" Regina crossed her arms, hoping to still her beating heart. Billy scratched the back of his neck. Was he...nervous? "I wanted to ask you if you would- can you sit outside with me?"

Regina blinked in shock. "Sure." She followed him behind his trailer. A bonfire was going with a cooler and one chair--his chair--set up. She yet to learn exactly what he did to be able to get all of this stuff. "Would have you sit on my lap but that's too soon," he joked before going to get another chair. When he came back, he placed it right next to his.

Regina sat down and watched the fire. "Got anything to drink?"

"Yeah. Want a beer?" Billy opened the cooler. His muscular arms glistened in the light, giving her a pleasant sight. "Here. Nice an' cold."

"Thanks."

The two sat and drank in silence, occasionally glancing at the other. Billy wondered how such an intelligent woman like her ended up all the way out here. Women like her usually stayed in or went to the city.

Ever since he mentioned deployment, Regina wondered what branch of the military he was. "Your tattoo," she blurted out. "What is it?"

"Oh, this thing?" He looked at the sprawling ink across his arm. "Says 'Mother love'."

Regina smiled and caused Billy's heart to skip a beat. Where was she hiding that beautiful smile all this time?

"Cute. I bet you were a momma's boy."

If I knew 'er, Billy remarked. He was so young when his mother left he barely remembered her face. His grandmother was the closest thing he had to one. "Anything else you wanna know 'bout me?"

Regina hummed. "What branch of military were you?"

"Marines." Billy took another sip of beer. As much as he tried not to reveal too much about his past, he couldn't help find her questions interesting. "What about you? How'd you get your tattoos?"

She pointed to the weeping angel on her left and the butterfly on her right arm. "Got them my sophomore year of college." Regina never really thought about her tattoos up until now. She remembered all the compliments she got the day after she got tbem. A mischievous gleam filled her eyes. "I have a third one."

Billy raised an eyebrow. Nothing could've prepared him for what she did next. He watched her stand up and lift the skirt of her dress. He spit out his drink, face red as he looked away. Regina's playful giggle filled his ears.

"Don't you wanna see it? It's a sun and moon," she teased.

Billy turned back around, one hand covering his eyes. "You tryin' to get me in trouble?"

Regina sat back down with a laugh. "You should've seen your face!"

"Coulda just told me you had a tramp stamp." Billy grabbed another beer bottle. Regina was in rare form tonight. Her smile and giggle were strangely addictive, and he hoped she would do one or both again. What things made her laugh? What made her smile? This must be that 'women's power' meemaw talked about.

They continued talking around the fire. Regina flustered when Billy suddenly wrapped his arm around her. Despite his lanky constitution, he possessed a considerable amount of strength. "What's wrong?"

"Haven't had this much fun in a long time." Everything that happened made him forget a lot of things. All he could think about was how his brothers in arms betrayed him and how he was going to die for a crime he didn't commit. Sure Rebecca may have given him a second chance at life, but it was up to him to grab it by the hands. "Been through a lotta shit."

Regina only hummed, resting her head on his shoulder. Their feelings for each other grew in that moment. He got an urge to gently kiss her head but didn't act on it. For now, he was content with having her in his arms.

"Wanna do this again next week?"

"I would love to."

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Adam B. Coleman

Published: Dec 15, 2023

Fewer people are lower than a leftist protester who disrupts the lives of regular people just to make a gesture that accomplishes nothing. They behave like scummy privileged children as they make themselves more important than people with real responsibilities.

And I truly mean this when I say privileged because they clearly don't know what it's like to have your job reprimand you for being five minutes late or driving an hour to a job that barely pays you enough money to take care of your bills.

The thousands of people they interrupted on the highway in Los Angeles suffer the repercussions of being unable to make it to their destination on time. How many parents were late picking up their children? How many had their jobs on the line as they sat in man-made traffic?

I remember a video of a man who was being held up by protesters on the highway and the man was pleading with them to let him pass through otherwise he'll violate his probation. They didn't care that his freedom was on the line and he was actually trying to turn his life around.

For them, the ends always justify the means and if it means you go to jail so their "message" can be heard, then so be it. What's become blatantly true is that these people who act like they're the saviors of the world don't care about the people who live in it.

They're trained to be "disrupters" to bring attention to whatever nonsense social cause at the time but it's really about bringing attention to themselves. They're narcissistic performance artists who are forcing you to patronize their public theatrics.

Any logical person knows that blocking the highway has zero correlation to a ceasefire in a region halfway across the world but the goal isn't to bring a ceasefire but to cease our comfort. It's the irony of the most privileged people taking away hard-working American's comfort.

They're the grown-up version of children who fell on the floor screaming at the grocery store when they didn't get the candy they wanted except now they lay on highways having public tantrums for an outcome they can't bring to fruition in the Middle East.

And just like those spoiled children, all they can see is what they want and have no care for who they impact along the way to get it. Their public theatrical showcase is more important than you providing for your family.

These people sleep comfortably at night without a care in the world for how many emergency vehicles in the Los Angeles region couldn't reach people in dire need. I mean, they risked their lives to bring peace to Gaza, so you can risk yours by not making it to the hospital, right?

None of the consequences come in their direction because they'll be bailed out of jail by leftist non-profits in hours and given lenient sentences by a justice system that lacks the balls to make an example of people who put the lives of others in danger with an unlawful protest.

They'll feel no shame because they'll get high-fives from equally shameless people. They'll get told how righteous they are for standing up for the oppressed while completely ignoring how they oppressed thousands of people so they could get public recognition.

So, I mean this with all of my heart: they're amongst the most despicable, unrespectable, and insufferable people that exist in our society. They don't care about the poor or the struggling working class because their actions never show this type of care.

They're sociopathic classists who exercise their privilege when they see fit and couldn't give a damn about how it impacts you. I don't use the word "hate" often because it's reserved for special people, but I legit hate these people.

And why not? They hate us too and it shows.

--

==

Woke Privilege.

[unrooms]

You eye the doors. Even if it’s the only way to go, you’re not sure how you feel about going deeper into this weird place. Instead, for now, you sit on the edge of the pool (the gate?) and look at your phone. You flip it over and even crack off the case to check inside. You’re feeling kind of paranoid. Nothing’s there, though, except a bit of dust and dirt that slipped in there over time. Then you scroll through your apps; the usual- google, spotify, system stuff. A few games. Tumblr. The app your college uses to track homework and stuff. You spent a while looking for a period tracker that wasn’t offensively flowery, and thankfully you did find one. Also thankfully, you’re not currently on your period. It seems like you got a text from one of your best friends while you were asleep, presumably before you got here; it’s just a picture of her cat. Cute, but not helpful.

You sigh. You feel stressed and confused.

Intrigued by the weird liquid in the pool, you turn around and try scooping some up in your hands. You manage to get some, but it’s difficult to hold on to and you need to use both hands to get more than a few drops. Thinking maybe the symbols on the doors are some sort of clue, you go to the door whose symbol looks like a splash, and splash a handful of pool liquid onto it. It rolls off the stone in the same way it does off your skin.

After a beat of nothing happening, you say “Oh come on!” out loud, and then immediately feel silly. Then, the silly feeling shifts into anger. “If anyone’s listening-- really, come on! What even is this, some kind of cruel prank? An unethical social experiment? I did not agree to this!” You kick the door. It hurts a lot, especially since you’re barefoot. You curse and sit back down on the pool edge, feeling extremely silly now but still angry.

...Okay. Okay. Obviously this is all really crazy, but... I guess I gotta work with what I have.

After taking a minute to cool down, you let out a sigh and check your pockets. You’re just wearing what you went to sleep in, but you do find a hairtie, a couple hard candies, and a sharpie. You didn’t know the sharpie was in there. You guess you could use it to mark walls or something. And you can always take notes and pictures with your phone if you need to. In fact, you think it might be good to keep track of all this stuff, so you start working on that. You write down the message on the pool and your observations about the liquid, and take a picture of the pool for good measure.

You’re still intimidated by the idea of going through any of the doors, but you can’t think of anything else to do. Stalling, you look more closely at the doors. They seem to be made of the same stone as the walls, just in a solid slab instead of bricks. Tracing the carved symbols reveals nothing interesting. All the doors have some amount of cracks, but they seem to just be superficial; nothing seriously compromising their structure. You knock on the splash door. It feels thick and heavy. Nothing responds, although you kind of wish it would. Finally, you pull it open with effort.

The first thing that hits you is a lot of light. You take in the room; it’s totally different in aesthetic to the other one. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all glass with solid walls of lights behind them. The back of the door is also glass and lights- actually- you notice there’s a symbol on that side, too, different than the one on the front of it.

In the middle of the room, there’s a glass pillar going from the floor to the ceiling. Instead of having lights in it, it has a column of what looks like regular water. From the doorway, that’s all you can see. Tentatively, you step out onto the floor; you’re kind of concerned it’ll shatter under your feet, but it seems fine. Closer to the pillar, you can see that there are words carved into it. They’re hard to read, since there’s no paint or anything, just carvings in glass, but you manage to make it out:

“WATER; FOR THE FLUIDITY TO BE UNSTUCK IN SPACE.

IT CAN BE SLIPPERY, BUT IT IS NOT WILLFUL

ALL YOU MUST DO FOR IT TO TAKE THE FORM YOU WANT

IS TO PUT IT IN A PROPER VESSEL.”

Behind the pillar, you find another door. This one doesn’t have a symbol, but it does have a keyhole in it- and, weirdly, the keyhole seems to have a glass... key... mold? sticking out from it. The glass shape of a key is too big to fit in the keyhole, but the empty space inside is the right size. Supporting this idea, there’s a glass tube in the wall leading to the key. Tracing it back, you find a network of these tubes in the walls and floor, connected to the pillar, with a switch at each intersection of tubes. They were hard to see earlier, on account of everything being glass, but you manage to get a good idea of how they all go.

...You sit down in one corner. It’s more comfortable than sitting at the pool. You’re, honestly, freaking out kind of a lot. You guess it caught up with you. You should probably be trying to figure out this puzzle, or like, anything else, but instead you pull out your phone and play a few rounds of 2048. It does actually calm you down a little. Glancing at the time, you realize it’s ticked over to 3 o'clock already.

What now?

--HOUR TWO--

[ravio-the-cabinet-man]

(ID: a container of novelty gummy candy, made to look like sushi. End ID.)

alright back on my bullshit (trying novelty gummy candy because my family thinks its funny)(i also think its funny but shhh im not admiting that sh. shhhh.)

here we have a bunch of gummy sushi-

the top left was a sour gummy.. ring?? with a.. (gummy)hotdog texture. just because i cant rmemeber if i posted about the gummy hotdog experience: It was Not Good. the gummy hotdog was textured like foam and made me very very uncomfortable. 0/10.

the top right was regular marshmellows with gummy shrimps on top. the gummy shrimps, same as last time, are weirdly hard to bite (weirdly elastic?) and also Taste Bad. the marshmellows were okay? i guess? but also were slightly.. moist.. on the bottom. so uh. i didnt apprectiate that.

middle left is gummy miso. it was okay? and then had a bad aftertaste. not great.

bottom left is the same gummy noodles (bad twizzlers) as ive had before, nothing new there

the middle.. yellow.. things.. are like Dots(the candy) but with.. yellow nerds on the outside. crunchy outside, gummy (and bad tasting) inside. i did enjoy the nerds tho. may or may not have scraped a bunch of them off and eated them. didnt like the color tho.

bottom right were sour strip things around marshmellows. marshmellows were good. the sour strips were like. okay? like they arent my type of thing but i could see other people eating them.

all in all: i liked the sour ring and weird nerds, and the marshmellows wouldve been fine alone.

idk what my rating for this is compared to the other gummy reviews ive done, ill have to check and update this.

okay i just checked and apparently i didnt post about the gummy hot dog or gummy mac n cheese so i guess im doing that now

gummy mac n cheese? tasted bad. it also smelled Really bad. gummy hot dog was foam texture, and really fucking gross. not only was it slightly moist, but it also was so hard to bite because it was elastic and Foam Texture. not in a fun way either. Foam Texture in the worst way possible. it was Bad. i dont Like the Gummy Hot Dog.

gummy crabby patties were also just not great. never been a huge fan of those.

gummy lunchables.. the cracker ones? not good! i dont think i liked the turkey or ham or whatever. it was gross. iirc the gummy crackers were slimy.

gummy pizza lunchable was hell though. the cheese was bad. the sauce. the sauce was So Bad. it.. it was so slimy.. it was like.. really really wet jello. it was really gross. it also got on my hands. it was bad.

i posted about the gummy ramen. my introduction to novelty gummies, and the start of something fun but horrifying.

[jdgo51]

Something’s Leaking: When We Name It, It Can Be Healed

Today's inspiration comes from:

Brave Enough to Be Broken

by Toni Collier

"I love donuts. Like, a whole bunch."

"'Specifically, Shipley Do-Nuts in Texas. There’s something about the original glaze that rocks my world. But when I was introduced to the snacks in vending machines in middle school, my favorite donut quickly became the small six-pack of Hostess white powdered donuts. Back then, we didn’t have the great healthy snacks in the vending machines like the kids do now. We had the real stuff: soda, candy, and my favorite — the white powdered donut. I couldn’t wait to sit down for lunch with my friends on that hard lunch bench. I’d eat my pizza with the square pepperoni, whatever fruit they’d plopped onto our trays, and my prized possession, the donuts. My favorite memory was when they’d get stuck to the roof of my mouth and I had to take my finger and claw it out. Real attractive!

I remember one day I was sitting with my friends doing the regular routine at lunch, eating my donuts, when I had to use the bathroom. I got up, glared at all my friends, counted my donuts — one, two, three, four — and headed out.

As I skipped back to the table from the bathroom, I squinted at the plastic pack of white delicacies, “One... two... three.” Someone had eaten one of my white powdered donuts. I lost it. I mean I really lost it.

I started yelling at my friends. “Who ate my donut? Who ate my donut?!”

My anger turned into yelling that turned into a wild scream that only rage and hurt could produce. Things escalated and I found myself standing on that lunch bench, yelling at my group of friends to ’fess up and tell me who ate my donut. And then I locked eyes with one of my best friends who hadn’t said a word and whose mouth had been weirdly sealed shut.

I looked over at her and asked, “Nicole, did you eat my white powdered donut?”

She burst out laughing and white powder spewed all over the table.

I lost it. Again. I screamed at her and told her to take her finger and scrape my donut off the roof of her mouth.

Seconds later the vice principal, a slender African American woman who knew me well, tapped on my shoulder and asked me to come to her office. The table filled up with “Ooohs” as I stepped one foot after the other and walked through the cafeteria looking down at the tile floor until it turned into the carpet that welcomed me into the vice principal’s office. As soon as we sat down, the unraveling of the white powdered donut saga began.

“Antoinee’, you’re a great student. What’s going on?” she asked gently. (Antoinee’ is my legal name.)

“Nothing,” I replied. Giving the typical preteen answer that translates to I’m lying and don’t want to tell you.

She was unfazed.

“You’re captain of the cheerleading team, you’re on student council, you’re a part of the drama team’s Thespian Society, and you work here in my office on your off period. I know you and you’re a good student. Can you share with me why you were yelling and standing on the cafeteria table?”

“Nicole ate my white powdered donut!” I blurted out.

“And that’s why you were yelling and crying? And standing on Harris County property? One white powdered donut?” she asked, knowing there was more.

“Well, it was my white powdered donut, and she didn’t even ask and—”

She cut me off. “Antoinee’, I would love for you to share what’s really going on,” she said as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

It seems like every time someone does the sentimental touch on the shoulder, the real stuff comes out, doesn’t it? I burst into tears and sobbed. My head bowed down low; my shoulders were shaking. And even though I could’ve told her everything that was going on, I lied and told her I’d just gone through a bad breakup.

The truth was that my mom had been in and out of the hospital, and there I was, balancing her health and school and seeking validation from my dad.

If we’re going to heal from it, we’ve got to name it.

After my mom’s first stroke when I was in the third grade, sickness had plagued her body. One massive stroke was followed by three ministrokes, blood clots in her legs, her large intestine failing, carpal tunnel surgery in both hands, seizures, and so much more. I’d helped her get to doctors’ appointments, held her hair and made sure she didn’t swallow her tongue during bad seizures. I’d spent nights in the hospital feeding her and making sure the doctors did what they were supposed to. And I was scared. I was scared every night that I would wake up without a mom. That she would be taken from me.

So when Nicole took my white powdered donuts, it triggered me. Those were my white powdered donuts. And with the threat of the most important person being taken away from me being a daily fear, I was deeply attached to the things I could control. The things that I held close, big or small.

If you know what it feels like to be stuck in a cycle of trauma, to be “bossed around” by old pain, perhaps you’re feeling like little Antoinee’ right now.

The way I coped was by trying to control what I could. What were the ways you struggled to survive? Maybe you retreated into a safe space. Maybe you turned your anger toward others. Maybe you bit your nails. Or cut yourself. Maybe today you’re shopping and spending to soothe that pain. Whatever your coping mechanism of choice, believe me, I get it. In fact, I understand exactly why you’d want to keep your pain hidden — from others and maybe even from yourself. As a girl, you were smart about what you needed. And you figured out how to soothe yourself.

But as you matured, those little girl–sized defenses didn’t fit anymore. The ones you thought would help you might now be hindering you, keeping you from a healed and whole life.

But this book wasn’t written to shame you about the decisions you’ve made to survive the pain you’ve been through. Rather, I want to encourage you to bring all your pain to light.

We need to bring our pain into the light because it’s in the light where healing and hope are found. The truth is that unhealed trauma will keep impacting us. We can’t run from it. Our minds, hearts, and bodies weren’t made for it, and so we are consciously and unconsciously clawing our way to relief and refuge. Our bodies want freedom and true hope. And when we don’t find that, the very things we use to numb the pain become the choices that can harm us. At some point our bodies will give out. When we haven’t learned healthy ways to heal from our pain, we end up medicating ourselves to an internal death.

I remember the moment young Toni started to die inside. When she lost her awe and wonder for the world and stopped playing. When even her longtime friends who used to call her a “Teletubby” because she was so consistently joyful, saw her light start to dim. It was a distinct and dark turn that took me years to recognize. I was thirteen.

It was the last day of my freshman year in high school. My parents had gone to Louisiana to visit family and were still driving back home when I got out of school. I invited my secret boyfriend, who was way too old for me, over to our house. We’d been trying to have sex all year, but it wasn’t working. The pain was too great.

I didn’t want to be a virgin anymore because I thought if it happened, he would stay with me — that he would show me the affection that I sought desperately. I needed to feel a sense of accomplishment too, and I thought maybe he’d show me that he was proud of me. Then on the last day of school we were in my bedroom trying again as his best friend sat in our living room, and that day it worked. I remember being so happy, so pleased with myself. We kissed one last time before he left. Then I closed the door and locked it. I also closed the door on young Toni. Her childhood innocence, her awe and wonder, were now locked out.

My desire to be noticed and seen turned into twerking at parties so all the boys would dance with me and all the girls would be jealous. I turned to drugs and getting drunk until I couldn’t remember the nights of partying. My rage leaked out as I punched walls and defied my parents. My longing to be beautiful and skinny turned into bulimia, so I could eat what I wanted without keeping it down long enough to absorb too many calories.

Still today, I sometimes get mad that no one saw how much I was hurting or offered to help. And then I get upset with myself about shaking off my tears and lying to the vice principal about where my pain was coming from. Maybe she would have helped me start a healing process the day of the white powdered donut saga and I wouldn’t have sunk even further into a shame cycle, winding deeper and deeper down into a lifestyle of coping that I didn’t think I could escape from.

I became the party girl, but really I was the broken girl trying to escape the realities of her life. I was on social media pretending that life was good so often that I inadvertently convinced my own heart of the same. My dangerous and damaging coping tactics numbed me. I had bought into what the Enemy often tries to plant in our hearts:

You’re too broken to be fixed. You’re too blemished to start over. You’re already canceled.

The Enemy had his eye on me even before I accepted Jesus into my heart. He thought if he could plant these lies into my heart at an early age, I’d never feel worthy enough for refuge and redemption. Boy, was he wrong."'

Excerpted with permission from Brave Enough to Be Broken by Toni Collier, copyright Toni J. Collier.

[septembersummer]

warmth

!! 18+ only; minors DNI !!

summary: Nanami is an alpha, and he's the very best at self restraint. You're an omega, and you need someone to look after you while you're in heat. I wonder what could go wrong here.

pairing: nanami x you

word count: 3.5k

cw: omegaverse, alphas, omegas, going into heat, triggering ruts, degradation, rough s*x

an's: my first ever nanami fic where he actually gets justice. he deserves this for real

links: wheel of fortune (ao3)

my long fics are all posted on ao3, so if you like my writing pls support me there :)

Nanami is not a cold man.

He might seem like it on the outside, because he has too much going on inside of his head to really show his warmth to other people, not that there was much warmth there to start with. But it is there.

For example, you know that he’s much more empathetic than Gojo, who tries his best, but it doesn’t come naturally to him the way that it comes to Nanami. Most of the people in this job become cold and brittle with time, as the deaths of their friends and the grim existence of curses eat away at their warmth until there’s nothing left but a husk. Cold, brittle, alone.

And Nanami, despite how hard he might try to convince you otherwise, is not cold nor brittle. That’s why you chose him to watch over you during this upcoming… sensitive time.

It happens every month or so, yours aren’t as regular as other omegas you know. Yours tends to hit you hard and fast, and it isn’t as predictable as your friends’ heats. Last month, for example, you were in the middle of a mission out in the field when you felt the familiar creeping of warmth up the back of your spine. It lingers in the pit of your stomach, ignites your skin inch by inch. Slowly, surely, it overtakes you– once a month, every month. Rinse and repeat. You go from a dignified woman who does an incredibly dangerous job which requires excellent physical prowess and mental stability to a mind-broken, lustful creature that wants nothing more than to gather all of her favorite things in her bed and get fucked until it’s over.

You want to mate. Like an animal.

It’s always made you sick. You’re one of the omegas who desperately wishes she were born an alpha, or even a beta. Alphas are easily tempted and often over-indulgent when they smell an omega, but at least they can live without fear of being taken advantage of when their rut hits. There’s no instances of omegas assaulting alphas when they’re in rut.

Beta would probably be best, though. No heat, no rut, no urges to be bred like a wild beast or to breed like a wild beast. They live life simply and quietly, and they marry each other with ease.

Alas, you are no alpha, and you are no beta, which is why you lay in bed this evening with four blankets, six pillows, three sweatshirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. The numbers are precise and exact, no more and no less. You’ve arranged them three times, you’ll do it again.

The heat is tingling at the base of your neck already. You move to wipe a bit of sweat that’s just starting to gather at your brow, and you know that you’re starting to smell. You’ve heard that the smell of an omega who’s about to go into heat is sickly sweet, saccharine, like fresh peaches or cotton candy or cinnamon rolls.

You know that Gojo often sees an omega who smells a lot like milk chocolate and espresso when she goes into heat.

“Her pussy tastes sorta like whipped cream– drives me crazy–”

“You’re so fucking gross.” Nanami snickered when you said that a few days ago, which led you into the conversation about heats and ruts that led into another conversation, which led you here, locked in your bedroom with all of your favorite things, while Nanami keeps watch outside for the next few days.

He’s a man of great self-restraint, and he’s never taken an omega, by his own choice to do so. It’s probably because the job wouldn’t allow him to take a mate without incurring serious risk to the relationship. Alphas and omegas mate for life– he’s too responsible to risk that when he has a job with a fifty-something percent death rate.

The looming threat of death and despair doesn’t keep your heightening senses from picking up on his scent as it just barely wafts beneath the doorway to your bedroom, though. He smells masculine, sort of like eucalyptus and pine, woodsy and grounding. You knew that the scent of an alpha would drive you crazy at a time like this.

Dealing with that issue, however, is better than the alternative. When you’re in the thick of it, you’ll want any alpha. You’ll want them so fucking desperately that you’d claw the door down to get to one– anyone would do, anyone. Even terrible Gojo, who would fuck you through it and purposefully not mark you because he doesn’t want to mate.

Nanami, a man of some warmth and fantastic self-control won’t let you claw your way through the door and fuck the first alpha you smell, or the first that smells you. He’ll keep you safe, protect you, and he won’t burst through your bedroom door to bite you and breed you like an animal. He’s not an animal, he’s a gentleman, and he cares about you.

You think about the sort of protector that he is, you take several sets of deep breaths from your spot underneath the blankets in the center of your bed, and you clench your thighs together hard. He is protective, isn’t he? He’s taking care of you now, even though your scent must be driving him crazy out there. He’d take good care of you in the future, he’d take good care of you and the little blonde babies that he fucks into your wet cunt when you’re–

“Are you alright?” A voice startles you.

You can hear it through the rather thin piece of wood that separates you from the six foot tall alpha that stands on the other side of it.

“Y-Yeah,” you reply, shifting beneath the covers to fight the urge to slip your hand into the waistband of the sweats you’re wearing.

You’ll have to take them off soon. It’s becoming unbearable to be clothed, and it will only get worse as this progresses.

“Your scent changed,” he remarks, and you notice that his voice has taken on a thicker, more husky timbre tonight than it usually has, “are you afraid?”

He always speaks lowly with a hint of the rasp he’s gained from smoking cigarettes all these years. His voice never sounds bad, but tonight it’s…

You shiver, and you can hardly fight the urge to touch yourself anymore.

“Afraid of what?” You ask, moving to take your sweatpants off.

Your shirt goes with it, over your head and thrown into the floor where it belongs. It doesn’t have the right scent, nothing here does. You want something more masculine, something darker that you can bury your face into when you’re biting down on the sheets later trying to soothe the itch between your legs.

“Of me,” he replies, and the doorknob makes a soft clicking sound, as though he’s resting his hand on it while he talks to you.

It’s locked, because alphas are not bulletproof, not even self-controlled, quiet, kind Nanami. Instincts are one hell of a drug, and everyone is susceptible.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you respond, noticing that your own voice has taken on a more whiny, desperate tinge when you speak.

Normally you’re so controlled, standing tall and proud, but you’re reduced now. You’ll only be reduced further into the puddle of slick that you’re quickly becoming.

“Nanami?” You whimper out, before biting your lip and trying to control the sound of your breaths. They fall faster when you remember that there’s an alpha right there who could help you, who could make you feel better.

“Yes?” He responds.

The doorknob clicks again, you release a breathy moan at the mere prospect of him coming inside.

He won’t, he swore it. Even if you plead or cry, even if you get on your hands and knees at his feet and beg him to breed you, he won’t. He gave his word a week ago.

He’s never broken a promise, it’s a true sign of his empathetic nature. It won’t do you any good to go out and beg, but the urge grows with each breath.

“Can you give me one of your shirts?” You ask, negotiating with your desire, now fully naked and sinking deeper into the blankets that smell all wrong, so wrong.

There’s nothing right here. No amount of rearranging will fix what’s broken.

“I can’t open the door,” he says, and you can hear that his breaths are falling faster, too.

“Please,” you plead quietly, “just one–”

“I’m not opening the fucking door,” he responds roughly and harshly all at once, lashing out at you because his self-control is waning, it seems.

“Take your sleeping pills. Now.”

You’re stiff and still in the spot that you lay after hearing that command. The you that exists outside of your heat would’ve not responded well to such a harshly given demand, but she is no longer here with you. So, you do as told, and you take the pills that will hopefully help you sleep through the night.

If you aren’t getting fucked, you’ll need to sleep and drink water. You won’t have an appetite for food, but your body needs to rest as much as it can to recover from the energy that’s going into putting out pheromones for your mate. You know it, and you recite it to yourself, trying to hold onto what little sanity there is left.

They take effect after a few minutes, thankfully, but your body feels burning hot to the touch now, and you’re touching it more than you should. You fall asleep with your hand between your thighs, with slick dripping onto the mattress as you pump your fingers inside yourself over and over against your g-spot. Even if your sleep, you’re still pumping just faintly.

Nanami isn’t a cold man.

In fact, he’s fucking burning alive.

Standing outside your bedroom door, he can tell by your scent that you’ve fallen asleep now. He hasn’t moved since he last gave you the command to take your medicine, for fear of what his own body would do if he did.

Instead, he’s standing there with his fist clenched so hard around the feeble little door handle that he fears he might break it if his fingers tighten even slightly more than they are. He stares at his white knuckles, and he takes a deep breath that only makes this worse.

He swore to protect you while you’re going through this, but goddammit he wants to kick this too thin door down and fuck into you until you break.

Your scent is sweet, but not so sickly sweet that it disgusts Nanami. He’s been around omegas when they’re near their heat, and frankly he’s never been very tempted by them. The scent of slick has always been so sickeningly saccharine that it’s only disinterested and annoyed him. His vague indifference to the scent of omegas is the reason that he agreed to keep watch over you through your heat this month.

He didn’t know it would be like this. The others, they aren’t compelling nor particularly arousing to Nanami. He’s been lucky throughout his adulthood as an alpha to not be tempted by scents and flavors in the way that other alphas he knows are indulgent.

You, however…

Oh, you do smell sweet, but you smell soft and airy. Like warm vanilla with just a hint of citrus. It’s a natural musk, so it’s not like perfume or confections, but a combination of your natural pheromones and the ambrosial lure of your heat.

It’s still the first day, and he’s never felt so compelled to break through a door or a fucking wall to get to anything before.

For the first time in his life, he’s feeling something other than vague indifference shrouded by duty.

For the first time in his life, Nanami wants something . Desperately, painfully, he wants you, needs you.

He owns you. You wouldn’t have called him here if he didn’t, right? You wouldn’t have called him to protect you if you didn’t subconsciously know that you’re his omega, that you need him to take care of you, to keep you safe. He’s the only one that you trust to keep you safe during your heat.

You know that you’re his. You must.

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath, gripping the door handle harder now. Gripping harder, turning it even though the lock protests, trying to open it.

He swore that he wouldn’t do this. He promised. He never breaks a promise.

The door handle won’t budge

He just wants to see that you’re alright. That makes sense. He needs to protect you, he’s here to protect you. How can he keep you safe if he can’t even see you?

Or touch you.

The lock is tougher than it looks. It’s starting to make a screeching sound.

He can’t protect you if he can’t touch you.

Or fuck you.

Breed you.

Bite the little scent spot on your throat, show everyone that you chose him to protect you. Him, not Gojo, not a trusted friend. You made your choice. Everyone should see it, smell him on you, see the way that your stomach grows rounder when he impregnates you tonight.

It’s just about to break, his forearm clenches hard as he turns the lock almost past the point of no return. Soon, you’ll be his. You aren’t yet, but soon. Soon, the whole world will know what you’ve decided, what he’s decided.

He’s so focused on breaking the stupid, stupid little knob, that he doesn’t even notice when it unlocks on its own. His eyes have to adjust to the dark when the door opens easily, and he stumbles forward a step.

He stumbles forward, landing inches from you. His hand rests on your forearm, a subconscious movement to keep you from falling. His omega, no one else’s. He can’t let you get hurt.

If he weren’t forcibly going into his rut tonight, he’d feel your skin and know that you have a fever, but he has one, too.

If anything, you feel cold to the touch tonight, because Nanami is nothing frozen nor brittle, he’s burning magma against your skin when he pulls you into his arms, when his lips collide with yours in a kiss that’s barely a kiss, and more an angry meeting of tongue and teeth.

Animals don’t need to exchange words when they’re going to mate, and neither do the two of you. That’s all you are– animals when you break the buttons on his shirt apart to lick and kiss at his chest, his stomach, and animals again when he unfastens his belt and throws it across the room, and your feeble, cold fingers undo the buttons and zipper of his pants to tug them down.

“Spread your fucking legs,” he growls, as he crawls overtop of you, doing the movement for you with his large, calloused hands when you aren’t fast enough for him.

His cock aches and burns where its pressed against his stomach, leaking precum onto his skin that he’ll fuck into you soon enough.

“Please, please, please–” you beg, shivering and shaking beneath him as he thrusts two fingers into your pussy.“More,” he murmurs, as his dark eyes look into yours in the darkness.

Your scent is flooding his senses, his psyche. There are no coherent thoughts left in him, and none left in you. There’s nothing in the world tonight but two fingers much larger than yours pumping and thrusting inside of you, and the feeling of euphoria that’s almost good enough cascading over your shaking form like a tidal wave.

“Please, more, please– want your cock, need your cock, fuck– Nanami, please–” you moan, dragging your fingernails down his back in anticipation.

“Gonna mark you, gonna– fuck–” Nanami hisses and spasms, thrusting inside of your drenched cunt in one go.

He cums right then and there, with his first hard thrust into you. It throbs inside of you as you lock your legs around his hips to drag him deeper, further in. His teeth bite down on your shoulder, not quite marking you yet, but soon.

He pulls half out, the slickness of you is already spread along his stomach, and he’d like to bathe in it tonight. His cum starts to drip out of you, but it’s stopped when he thrusts inside again, again, again.

His teeth sink into your skin wherever they land, his hands grip your thighs so hard that they’ll leave bruises, there are no thoughts left in his mind other than fuck, and breed.

“You’re my omega,” he breathes against the bruise he’s just made with his teeth, “fuck, mine.”

He shivers in delight and relief. No one else can fuck you now. His scent is all over you, his seed is inside you. The primal part of his brain that needs to possess you isn’t anxious anymore, you’re where you belong.

You are his, every inch of your burning skin that meets his, and every inch that doesn’t. He lifts you up by your hips, holding your body weight up with his muscular forearms with ease to get a better angle to just fuck you in. The only sounds in the room are those of skin meeting skin, and your cries of yes and please and more and cum inside me.

He does just that, every single cry that you make is answered by his hips moving in tandem with yours. You’re cumming as often as you’re breathing, shivering, shaking, and panting beneath him, as he can’t decide whether to watch the swell of your tits bounce with the intensity of his thrusts, or the spot where your bodies are meeting.

Vanilla, citrus, and you– that’s all there is. He throws your ankles on top of his shoulders, bearing his weight down on top of your smaller body so that he can kiss you while he slams into you. “Na- na - mi–”

You cry out his name again and again like a mantra or a prayer. It is the best sound that’s ever graced his eardrums, he’s certain when he’s this deep inside of you that there’s no sweeter scent nor sound that could compare to yours.

He’ll take good care of you, he thinks about it when he moves inside of you, starting to draw close to release again. He feels the throbbing of blood moving absolutely nowhere but to his cock as he drives it inside of you, twitching and fucking his cum back into you before it can drip down between your asscheeks and stain the sheets even worse than they already are.

He won’t let you out of this mating press until the sun blots out and he dies, or until he fucks a baby so deep into you that you can’t remove it, can’t deny that it’s his and no one else’s. He needs to mark you, he’s fucking you but he needs to mark you.

He bites your lower lip when you continue to kiss him, before diving down to your neck while you’re screaming his name, and an orgasm washes over you. Your inner muscles tighten and constrict around him, and he presses more of his weight onto you until it must be hard to breathe. You’re tightening around him, sucking him into your pussy.

He can’t fight his urges, he can’t fight the burning heat within him for a second longer. His teeth sink into your throat right where your pheromones would come from, and you screech either from pain or pleasure, he doesn’t know.

He’s cumming inside of you again, biting harder when you try to move beneath him, causing a whimper of pain to erupt from you. Nanami tastes your body in his mouth while he gives you short, hard thrusts that bury his seed inside and keep it there.

He breathes a sigh of relief with his teeth still buried in your skin, holding your body up even higher at an angle so that his cum can’t escape you. You’re finally his, he doesn’t have to be cold and brittle, he can let his burning warmth seep into your body and stay there, and then he can breed you just like this again and again.

Everything is better here in his arms. You’re happy, safe, warm, marked by your mate. Nanami sleeps soundly next to you, and he deserves it after the three days he’s been awake in his claiming of you.

With your ass pressed against his abdomen, he’s still buried inside of you, still hard even in his sleep. He doesn’t mind the mess of cum that’s between both of your legs, and neither do you. His strong arms are wrapped around your waist, and your body is just starting to cool down.

When your sanity returns fully, maybe you’ll regret it. Maybe you’ll wish you hadn’t stumbled forward to your door in a haze of lust and desire. The stinging set of teeth marks on your neck and shoulders feel like marks of pride this morning, but you aren’t so sure about tomorrow.

You don’t have much time to think about it, as your mate thrusts into you from behind again, feverish and burning, ready for more.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Just imagining halstead sister having a baby and jay and will spoiling them also fighting on who’s the better uncle and jay getting emotional when she names him and hailey the godparents

Not totally what you requested, but here's a little bit of Uncle Jay and Uncle Will for you!

“We see Uncle Jay and Uncle Will today, too?” your four-year-old daughter, Emmy, asked excitedly as you walked hand-in-hand into the fair. 

“Yup. They said they’d be by the–”

“Uncle Jay! Uncle Will!” she exclaimed as she saw them standing by the ticket booth and quickly let go of your hand to run to them. 

“Emmy! What did we talk about in the car? You have to stay with Mommy.”

At that moment, she crashed into Jay’s open arms and he picked her up and quickly put her on his shoulders.

“But it’s just Uncle Jay and Uncle Will!” she protested.

“Yeah, Y/N. It’s just Uncle Jay and Uncle Will,” Jay parroted. 

“Shut it,” you told him. 

“Now, now, Y/N. Be nice,” Will told you. 

“I would swear at you, but my daughter’s here, so I’ll refrain from that."

“Good choice,” Jay said and you just rolled your eyes at him. He turned his head up to look at Emmy who was still sitting atop his shoulders. “Where to first, Munchkin?”

“Rides! The spinny apple one!”

“Pukefest for Y/N it is,” Will chuckled. “How much do we have to pay you to get on one after last time?”

“Nothing because I won’t be going on it. And, my motion sickness has gotten much worse since I was a teenager, so Mommy will not be going on spinny rides today.”

“But why not, Mommy?” your daughter pouted. 

“Because, sometimes when things spin really fast, Mommy gets sick. Remember how you felt when you had to miss school one day?” She nodded. “That’s how Mommy feels when she has to go on spinny rides.”

“And that’s why Daddy always goes on them with me?”

Your husband—and Emmy’s dad—was a professional hockey player currently playing in the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Unfortunately for you and Emmy, this meant not seeing him a lot. Despite seeing him a lot during the regular season whenever he played home games in Chicago, you knew with travel and games every other day and how high the stakes were, that you wouldn’t see your husband in person until him and his team either were eliminated in one of the first three rounds, or the playoffs came to an end of the team made it to the finals in late June. 

“That’s exactly why. Good job!” you praised.

 “But can Uncle Will and Uncle Jay ride the rides with me?”

“Of course, we will!” Will told your little girl excitedly. “And we’ll go super duper fast!”

***

 “I think Miss Emmy here is having a bit of a sugar crash,” Will said as Emmy yawned once again and laid her head against his chest because he was currently carrying her on his hip. 

“Was it the cotton candy from you?” you asked and pointed to Jay. “Or was it the ice cream from you?” You turned and pointed to Will. 

“I plead the fifth,” Jay said quickly and put his hands up in surrender. 

“Me, too,” Will added quickly.

“Well then, we’ll be watching enough hockey and movies until she wakes up in the middle of the night, and then you two can deal with her. You know since it’s only 6:00 that she’s not going to sleep through the night if she falls asleep now, right?” 

They both groaned, but they agreed.

***

After you gave Emmy a much-needed bath and Will and Jay read her a bedtime story, you and your brothers were having some much-needed relaxing time—without your daughter interfering. You guys were currently watching hockey and had been for about two hours when you heard little footsteps and quiet sniffles.

You quickly shoved your hard seltzer into Jay’s hand and got up to go to your little girl. 

“Sweetie, what’s the matter?” you asked as you picked her up. She held tight to you with one arm and clutched her blanket in the other. 

“You- You watchin’ Daddy with-without me!” she cried and buried her face in your neck. 

“You were sleeping, sweetie. We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“But- But I wanna watch Daddy play!” she cried. 

“Let her stay, Y/N. She’ll conk out by the end of the period anyway,” Will suggested. 

“Will!” you hissed. 

“C’mon. You know she’ll be the good luck charm, too. And how can we the fun uncles if we don’t let her stay up late?” Jay asked. 

“Yeah, how can we be the funcles?” Will asked. 

“What’s a fuckle?” Emmy asked quickly. 

Jay choked on his drink and Will’s eyes widened, realizing what he had just done.

“Uncle Will was being silly and said the wrong word, baby,” you said quickly. “He meant to say fun uncle. He’s your uncle and you always have fun like watching movies and going to the fair with him.”

“Oh.”

“You can stay up and watch Daddy play,” you gave in. 

“Yay!” Emmy cheered. 

You quickly set her down between Jay and Will and took your hard seltzer back from Jay. Needless to say, when you went into the kitchen to grab Emmy a juice box, you chugged the rest of that sucker. 

You hoped she’d never say fuckle again.

But hey, she was half Halstead, so she probably would. And this was all thanks to her uncles. You knew they loved Emmy, but sometimes they needed to shut up. 

“Mommy! Goal! Mommy! They score!” Emmy yelled. 

And so, you quickly ran out of the kitchen to continue watching the game with Emmy and your brothers. 

And despite the fact that your brothers spoiled Emmy rotten, you knew she could have no better a combination of role models between her dad and her uncles.

[anyotherwriter]

Skipping Town [2]

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Hi! Part two time. I will make this short so I don’t jinx anything. 

Credit for the gif to whomever made it. You can find the Preview and Part 1 in my masterlist. Feedback is always welcome!

*Daryl Dixon AU*

Okay, love you, bye.

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You had heard about all of the Daryl sightings that had been happening around town. When you were out with your parents getting a Christmas tree, Mr. Thomas was telling anyone that would listen about the time that Daryl had snuck onto his farm and stolen a set of tires. Though, this could never be proven and you knew for a fact that Daryl had not done that. 

You'd also heard about him getting lunch at the diner in the middle of town. Ms. Cathy next door had been telling your mom that he strolled in like he owned the place, plopped down onto a counter stool, and demanded his food. This directly contradicts Sue's account of waiting on him that afternoon, where he'd been quiet, patient and cordial, and he'd tipped generously.

When it came down to it, defending Daryl was a hard and curious position to put yourself in. Once someone associated with any of the Dixon's, they were thrown into the gossip pool, too. The thought of your name being dragged through the mud and passed around by greedy mouths had you keeping your mouth shut, no matter how much you wanted to tell them all that they knew absolutely nothing about Daryl.

Yet, neither did you, anymore.

The stories that passed through your checkout line at the store, whether directed at you or not, had you wondering how you haven't crossed paths with Daryl yet. According to everyone in town, he was everywhere. But this, too, you knew probably wasn't true. According to the "Telephone" game, these folks have all been telling thirty different versions of one instance, but the only recount of events you'd trust at this point were Daryl's. 

The store was quiet tonight, Wednesday's always were. There were only two of you on shift and the only folks that came in to do mid-week shopping were a few regulars and teens that always tried to swipe an extra candy bar but had yet to find a way to get away with it. Wednesdays were always quick shifts but they typically dragged on so much that it felt like you'd been there an eternity. Tonight was no different as you had finished the cleaning list long ago, there was nothing to make pretty, and the music that played offered no support in quality to you. It was just plain boring. 

So you did what you always did on these nights and cracked open a book. This one wasn't much different than the last three you'd read. The plot had something to do with the main character leaving a small town for the big city, chasing dreams and all that jazz, all the while getting the guy, too. Every plot was the same, the only character changes were the color of their hair or skin, but the fairytale remained the same each time. You latched onto it hard.

You had been literal days away from leaving town before. You had a job lined up, an apartment, and you even considered going to the shelter to adopt a small dog to keep you company on the new journey. And then your dad had a heart attack and you felt guilty leaving at a time like that. There never really was a window of opportunity to leave after that… at least that's what you told yourself. You'd gotten used to the ebbs and flows of this small town life, got comfortable with how things were going.

Got stuck.

"Are ya open?" 

The deep grumble came from your right, tearing you away from your book that was resting gently on the scanner scale. You'd been so invested in your book that you hadn't noticed the man walking up to your lane and placing a few items onto the end of the belt. You hurried to shut your book and throw it on the shelf at your feet.

"Sure am! Sorry about that." And you'd press the black button closest to you to move the belt forward. When you grabbed the loaf of potato bread closest to you, you finally glanced up.

And froze.

"Daryl?" 

And he pulled his face away from the screen of his phone, his eyes widening. He looked so different, you barely noticed him; the things that tipped you off were the angle of his nose and the scar above his eye. It was irrefutable that it was him. His hair was long and shaggy and he had to brush it away with his fingers when he looked at you, and you suddenly remembered how blue his eyes were. All those times you'd wanted to take an extra lap around town recently to see if you could spot him, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you.

"I heard you were back in town." You started again awkwardly, continuing to scan his items. "Wasn't sure if it was true or if the rumor mill was bored."

He didn't say anything in response, just let out a small hum in response. The silence between the two of you was tangible, until you told him his total and he went to slide his card.

"Thought ya woulda left town long ago." He said as he stuffed his wallet back into his pocket. He looped his fingers through the few plastic bags but then stopped. He was waiting for an answer.

"Still looking for the right time." You replied, your toes now anxiously tapping on a metal pole beneath the bagging carousel. "Are you in town for a while?"

"Nah, tryin' not'ta be." He said finally lifting his bags and dropping his arms to his side. "Jus' here ta clean up Merle's mess an' go."

"Typical." You said immediately. His ears turned red as he offered you a nod goodbye and walked quickly out of the store. Your eyes followed him out the door and through the parking lot, where he climbed into a black truck. It wasn't a vehicle you imagined him having, but the black paint matched his black sweater, and boots, and it seemed cohesive enough to be real. When the truck started to pull away, you also noticed the obvious, albeit quick and blurry, pointy ears of a shepherd sitting in his passenger seat. 

And just like that, he was gone again.

*** 

Daryl put the truck in park when he finally got back to his motel. He sat there in silence for a bit, trying to figure out what exactly he was feeling. He'd seen plenty of faces he recognized in the last few days; some he didn't mind, others that already had the sheriff's number dialed the moment they recognized him. But he hadn't expected on his quest to buy a few oranges and some cans of soup that he would run into you.

You always had grand plans of leaving when you graduated, college or not, you'd make it somehow. That's what you told him over and over. Daryl was always scared of your dreams. They were well thought out, you were saving money, and you had a list of the top places you'd like to be. In the tangents that he heard you go off on about it, never once did the plans include him. Which was selfish and bold of him to assume they may. But the summer before junior year of high school, the two of you started sneaking off into the open fields a few miles down the road to lay on a big fluffy blanket (that he had definitely stolen from a store three towns over just for this) to star gaze and talk. Daryl hadn't had anyone to really unload on before, which is how he found himself dumping everything he had on you then. From the problems with his dad, to the bad things he himself had done, his fears...anything. You always stayed quiet and let him go, never once making him feel like a burden or like his baggage was too much. Those times in that dark field lying next to each other was when he hoped that your dreams had changed, even just a little. He knew you wouldn't completely divert, staying here was your "worst nightmare". At the time, it hurt him, knowing that you had lumped him into that nightmare- into the one place you wanted to be the least. 

After all these years of processing his childhood, and the way people treated his family, he grew to understand that even sneaking out in the middle of the night to disappear into the treeline behind your house where he was waiting for you was a huge risk for you. And you'd taken that risk of judgement and ridicule to offer him solace in the hardest phase of his life. Had someone caught the two of you out in that field, he could only imagine what they would've assumed about you, let alone said. 

Your dreams never changed in that time. You never included him in them, never asked him to come with you. He was stupidly in love with you at the time and not being included did break his heart more than it already was. But he still showed up to hide in the trees on Monday and Thursday evenings, like you'd planned, so that he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts or his dad. 

"C'mon." He called to Dog when he'd finally gotten out of the truck. Daryl's mind was full of haze, and probably still a bit of shock, at seeing you. 

When he put his key card in the door, he wondered what kept you here. He placed his bags on the small utility counter beside the tiny sink and mini fridge, curious if you'd met someone worth staying for. Because seeing you now, he couldn't imagine you being alone. 

And when he jumped into the rickety shower, to wash away the grime, grease, and illegality of his work today, he wished all those years ago that he had just sent the text he had typed out the night that he skipped town and started over a long way away.

"Come with me." 

Instead, he erased the message and slipped away in the night alone.

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Next Chapter

Again, feedback is always welcome!

[holewithinahole]

Chaotic | Jinx x he/him reader

Summary: You try to take Jinx on a date but everything goes wrong.

Warnings: fluff, non-native writer, unchecked grammar

A lovely request I got by @its-a-game-i-lost. The idea is just so funny to me. I wish I could have expanded more on the characters... I hope I did good!

You’re a pretty standard young man. You grew up in the Lanes, committed petty theft and rose middle fingers at enforcers like any other healthy child. Now, you work your ass off in the factories and bring back bits of broken equipment for Jinx to play with.

You have a relationship with Jinx. A friendly relationship you’d say. Everything is relative when it concerns Jinx. But she often comes to spend time with you to talk about this and that so you take it as a win.

You want to take her on a date. A real one, a sweet one, a conventional one.

But nothing is ever conventional with Jinx. You discovered this the hard way.

The first time, she’s laying on your couch, munching candies she stole during her last Piltover heist when you ask: “Wanna come with me to topside, real quick?”

She looks up at you then smiles knowingly. She has the time to grab her trusty Pow-Pow before you stop her: “Uh, I don’t think you’ll need it.”

She pauses then laughs: “Ya’ right! Better to travel light hehe.”

Nothing went as planned. Obviously. The small hidden cafe you wanted to take her to call the enforcers and you ended up running all the way down to the Lanes. Everything would have probably gone better if Jinx had restrained herself from tagging buildings on your way there but more importantly if she had restrained from shooting random bullets at the enforcers while laughing maniacally.

You realised later, when laying on your bed at 2 am, that the romantic vision of a date near the docks, eating pastries and laughing carefreely would never come true. You wanted it real bad but it will never be possible. Not with Jinx.

And somehow you didn’t care all that much. For Jinx, you could do less conventional.

The second time, you’re sitting on a chair in Jinx’s lair.

“Wanna go have a drink at the Last Drop?”

Jinx is currently working on her little bombs, goggles on her face and humming to rock music. You have already popped the question four times before she finally answers you: “Maybe this time you’ll take something other than beer.”

You scoff: “You never take something other than cavernberry juice!”

She slumps on her own chair, arms dangling down as she sighs dramatically: “Ugh now I crave it!” She throws her goggles on the floor then flashes you a smirk. Your heart skips a beat. “Come on, you paying!”

You’re so enamoured, you’d pay for all Piltover.

The pub is pretty crowded that day. Jinx pushes past people without a care in the world to reach the bar where she asks for her regular juice. You come to stand behind her swiftly, not feeling comfortable all of a sudden. You should have thought twice before suggesting to come here. Even if the Last Drop remains neutral territory, after Silco’s death, Jinx hasn’t been really welcomed.

Not everyone is fond of the reinforced scrutiny of enforcers in the wake of her recent 'explosive' raids.

Jinx, not aware at all of the tension, laughs with the barman, asking for a straw. Suddenly, a man twice your size walks towards you. Oh, this doesn’t smell good at all... “‘got a problem?”

The thug answers by pushing you back against the counter, roughly colliding with Jinx who spits her drink.

“'the fuck you want, dickhead!” She yells, wiping her mouth.

She may be the first to get her gun out, a manic light in her eye, but you’re the last to duck when he swings his fist right in your face.

You surprisingly both end up getting out of there alive, with a few more bruises and a broken nose, your arms over each other’s shoulders for support. Thankfully no one died but you sure as hell won’t be going back to the Last Drop anytime soon.

“That was fucking fun!”

At least one is happy.

You kinda accepted the fact you’ll never have a conventional - or even unconventional at this point - date with Jinx. You even accepted you might never have a date at all. That’s what you ponder while eating - read: mope while staring at - your bowl of Jericho Special.

“Another!” Jinx exclaims, slamming her plate down. Jericho flinches but complies. “What’s going on, boo-boo? You look so gloomy!”

I want to grab your stupid tiny hand while we walk and kiss you when we go our separate ways, you think bitterly.

“Nothing.”

She stops eating halfway to stare at you. Her being so silent only means she’s thinking very hard about something. She leans towards you, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow. You stare at her, blushing slightly at your proximity.

"What?"

“I have exactly what you need!” She tugs you out of your chair by your arm. You only have a couple seconds to throw some money to Jericho.

Back to her lair, she blasts music to an indecent level before coming close to you, moving - dancing? - in ridiculous fashion.

“Come on! Let it go, man!”

She grabs your hands and twirl. You let out a cry that only makes her laugh more. She moves her hips and pumps her fists up in the air gleefully.

You can only watch her in disbelief, chuckling at her antics. She’s the craziest, most insane person you’ve ever met, she’s overflowing chaotic energy in a skinny body and you’re drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

So you do what you should have done ages ago, you grab her face with two hands and lean in to kiss her.

You except kicking or screaming, maybe a big exclamation of disgust but she presses against you forcefully, still shaking her hips to the music. She giggles against your lips, pulls on your top hard enough to tear and it’s perfect.

“Not so gloomy anymore, uh?” She licks her lips before leaning in one more time.

Third time is a charm.

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

I'm sorry if I'm bothering but I cant stop thinking about the brothers reacting to the mcs family accepting them as mcs bf before and after they find out the bro is a demon

The Brothers When MC’s Family Accepts Them As Demons (Headcanons)

These got super long, so I’m gonna put them under the cut. Thanks for the request, this was super fun to do. 

Lucifer 

The amount of stress he had going into this was ridiculous. He didn’t want to meet your family in the first place, he thought it was unnecessary and he would have much rather they not knew that he and you were dating. You insisted though, and he begrudgingly agreed to meet them when you went back up to the human world for your birthday. Everything was going fine until you slipped up and used his full name, and he was honestly… relieved. He had hated the stupid nickname you had given to him… “Luci”. It made him cringe, but nobody really named their child Lucifer, so apparently it was necessary. That one slip though, and he froze up, waiting for your parents to freak out… but they didn’t. Honestly, he wondered if your parents were even listening, but then your dad tried to make a dad joke. “So Lucifer, what was the fall like? Just joking, glad you could join us.” Confused. Kind of worried about your parents judgement, because, of course he loves you and wouldn’t want anyone to get in between the two of you… your parents are just… okay?With you dating a demon? Might need to take the second that your parents didn’t take. 

Mammon 

Not really all for meeting your family, but then again, that could be another way of getting free gifts or money. Definitely decides that he wants to meet them around Christmas, and make sure to let them know that you’re bringing your boyfriend, and that he likes gold anything or just flat out cash. He was nervous, but he wouldn’t let that show. Obviously The Great Mammon doesn’t get nervous, not around some measly humans. But these humans, these humans were important to you, and if he didn’t make a good impression, well… he could handle his brothers talking bad about him, but your family was a whole different thing. Christmas morning seemed to be going along without a hitch, the two of you had decided to just call each other by pet names so his real name wouldn’t slip… that is until his greediness started to show and he started pestering your parents about what he got. You lightly smacked his arm, whispering his name, hoping that your family didn’t hear you. “Oh, Mammon? Like the demon of greed Mammon?” Uhm… why weren’t your parents freaking out? “Don’t worry. We didn’t really know what to get you, so we just decided on money. I’m sure you won’t mind.” He’s on a whole new level of shook. Your family is so chill, he wants to come back for every holiday. 

Leviathan 

Getting him to leave his own bedroom was a job on its own. Trying to get him to agree to meet your family was a whole new level of difficult. There was no need for it, they won’t like him, he’s a loser… he gave all these excuses, and although none of them were true to you, he believed them to be true. You were on the verge of giving up and he saw that, he saw that you were upset about it, and he didn’t want to be the reason for you being upset so he finally said that he would. Only for a day trip though. His anxiety was already through the roof and he didn’t want to be stuck in a house of a bunch of people he didn’t know longer than 24 hours. That was no problem for you though as your family was having a small get together. It was a cookout and there would be a pool and everything, just a pleasant day of family fun. That’s how you sold it to him, and although he was still reluctant, he liked the idea of a pool. So now, here you were, goofing off in the pool. He was pushing you around the pool in a little donut raft, and he decided it would be funny to flip you off of it. You squealed his name when you came up from out of the water, forgetting for a second where you were, and your entire family was looking at the two of you now. “Leviathan… I know I heard that name before… isn’t that that one demon who…” “Doesn’t matter what he is, they’re both having fun. Burgers are up in five minutes, kiddos.” They’re not… shocked? Not running for the hills, having a panic attack. Nope, just burgers. He finally feels like he can really relax now, and that’s all that matters. 

Asmodeus

Pfft, worried? Not him. People love him. Your parents will too, he was sure of it. He was all for visiting your parents, actually, he was the one who brought it up. You were about to visit your mom for her birthday, and he decided that he wanted to come along too, since he’d never met your family before. He felt like you were hiding him and he didn’t like that feeling, so now he was coming to your mom's birthday and he even picked her out a gift. Obviously it was self-care set, but what else was he going to get her? It’s Asmo. Of course, your mother loves him immediately. He’s kind and he’s gentle and soft spoken, and he keeps calling her beautiful. He was a charmer, and everything was going great. The entire party went flawlessly, and you both thought that you’d get through the day without anyone finding out that your boyfriend was in fact a demon. That is, until your mother stopped the two of you for goodbye hugs, and she decided to become curious about his name. “Is Asmo your full name, or is it short for something else?” She was so inquizitive, and you bit your lip, hoping that he’d just agree that Asmo was his name, but, he had no shame. He told her that it was short for Asmodeus, and at first she looked shocked, but then she just shrugged. “Hmm, well… isn’t that something. You two get home safely, and come back soon, okay?” At first he thought that she just didn’t know who he was, but you explained to him that she knew, she just didn’t care. He kind of had a feeling it would happen that way though, so he was just as happy as he was before he came up to visit. 

Satan 

He’ll agree to visit your parents, you don’t have to bribe him, convince him, nothing. He just wants you to call him by his real name. He said he would be on his best behaviour, and that your family would have no reason to hate him unless they’re judging him strictly off of his name, but if that’s the case, then they’re shit anyway and he doesn’t want to associate with them. It was a Fathers Day party, and you were on edge the entire time. Your parents weren’t judgemental at all, but the name, his name alone would freak anyone out. He was a true gentleman, shaking your fathers hand and having regular conversations with him about different books that they’ve read. Things were great, and then dinner came along. Satan and your dad were still talking amongst themselves when he stopped in the middle of his sentence. “You know, Y/N never did tell us your name. Things have just been so busy, I’m sorry about that.” Satan didn’t hold back, he almost too proudly stated his name to your father, like he was expecting some type of freak out. It was your mom who chuckled lightly, shaking her head. “Ah, leave it to Y/N to date Satan. Well, everyone seems happy in the relationship, who am I to judge?” And with that everyone went back to eating. You were more shocked than Satan was, he just seemed really smug now, continuing his conversation with your dad. It felt like a giant weight had been lifted off your shoulders. 

Beelzebub 

Halloween, you chose Halloween. There was candy involved and he seemed excited about it. He was always so sweet and you really felt like you had nothing to worry about with him, how could anyone not like Beel? He was a big teddy bear, an absolute sweetheart. He wasn’t even nervous about meeting your family, and there was no reason for him to be. When he walked into your house everyone greeted him with open arms, warm welcomes, and soft smiles. Honestly, the only thing intimidating about him was his height, but everyone quickly got over that and it even became a sort of joke between him and your dad. “Oh, watch your head there, pal. If Y/N would have told me you were so tall I would have raised the archways a little more.” Dad jokes, and while you were embarrassed whenever your dad said anything, Beel seemed to love it. When snack trays went out, Beel devoured everything almost immediately, and it was only when he had cleared the entire table that he realized what he did, smiling sheepishly at you. Your family was clearly… concerned. Beel decided to take it upon himself to explain everything since you seemed so worried, and his plan was, if they freaked out, he’d just take you back to the Devildom to celebrate Halloween there. It was quite the opposite though, and your mom actually seemed relieved that there was a reason for him eating so much. “That makes so much sense. I was getting worried that someone wasn’t feeding you. Well, you can always come home anytime for dinner, alright?” So happy, he’s so happy. Ends up changing into his demon form for a Halloween costume which amazes everyone. He asks to visit your family at least once a week for dinner now. It’s a second home to him. 

Belphegor

Why visit your family when he can just sleep? Sleep is life. He’ll probably just zonk out at your parents house anyway, but that wasn’t the point. You wanted him to at least meet your parents once. They had asked you to come home, and you had told them before that you had a boyfriend and they really wanted to meet him too. It wasn’t particularly hard to say no to you, it’s just that he didn’t like hurting your feelings, and he felt like it was the least he could do considering he did… kill you once. He really did do his best to stay awake, not for your parents, but for you. He didn’t want you to think he was rude for falling asleep at the dinner table, which almost happened. Once everyone moved into the living room though, he couldn’t help himself. Leaning against your shoulder he slowly dozed off and your mom noticed immediately. “Just like your father, able to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere.” You heard Belphie scoff quietly, deciding that he would throw out a joke about being Belphegor, the Demon of Sloth. Of course, you knew that it wasn’t a joke, and you tensed up, waiting for your mom’s reaction to it. “Oh, well, that makes sense now. Do you need a pillow, or a blanket? A warm cup of tea?” He peaked one eye open, staring at your mom for a second before looking up at you and declining, almost too politely. He was kind of bummed out that your mom wasn’t scared of him. There was no fun in it. At least he got to nap a little longer though, and she brought him a cup of tea anyway, so he was still winning in the end. All is well that ends well.

[dysfunctionalcrab]

breaking point

pairing: karl jacobs x reader

pronouns: gender neutral

description: karl can’t get over your death.

warnings: pure angst. readers death, description of illness, description of a breakdown.

note: sorry about this fluff lovers. honestly i feel like if karl was getting over somebodys death he would just have breakdowns :/

-> also this is literally just a way to improve my angst writing.

one month.

a month without waking up every morning and seeing your face. a month without hearing your voice.

of course he knew, he knew you were sick. it would be selfish of him to tell himself that you weren’t. that you weren’t in pain every single day. he watched you get up from bed in the middle of the night, rushing to the bathroom and empty out last nights dinner into the toilet. he sat beside you, rubbing your back and telling you everything was going to be okay. you tried your best to believe it, so desperately did you want to believe him

but even karl himself couldn’t believe it.

day by day he watched you get worse, the hope that glistened in your eyes slowly started to fade away. you became pale, the bags under your eyes were becoming more prominent. you were just so tired

you were tired of everyone telling you were going to be fine, because you obviously weren’t. you knew that eventually you’d have to say goodbye to everyone, and leave everybody you loved.

it got to a point that you couldn’t even open up a jam jar. your frail arms couldn’t twist the lid no matter how hard you tried.

you felt like a burden to everyone, you weren’t that cheerful person you were once before. you felt more like a villain. someone who was ruining everybody’s day by just being present.

you weren’t scared of dying anymore, you were scared of living and continuing to suffer the way you were.

so, when you laid in the hospital bed, surrounded by all your loved ones. you felt tranquility. it made you happy that you knew none of these people would have to worry about you anymore.

your vision was becoming blurry, you could barely recognise anybody’s faces anymore. you didn’t want to cry, you didn’t want everybody’s last memory of you to be an image of your tear stained face. instead you smiled at them, karl held your left hand and your mother held your right, you squeezed their hands as tightly as you could, telling them how much you loved them.

your grip eventually loosed, as you took your last breath. you were unresponsive, and everybody was looking at nothing but the whites of your eyes.

-

your funeral hit him even harder.

karl felt so empty inside. all the happiness was drained out of him. he kept trying to tell himself this wasn’t real, and you weren’t gone. but how could he when he was standing right in front of your grave?

he watched your coffin lower down. all attention turned to your mother. as the coffin sunk deeper into the ground, she collapsed onto the floor, an agonising scream erupting from her. people ran to pull her away, but she refused to let them bury you.

karl walked away. he didn’t want to watch this. this isn’t what you would’ve wanted. you wanted nothing but everybody to be happy

but he couldn’t be, not when he was constantly reminded of you every single. those memories were now making him sad. he would drive past target just to be reminded of your late night trips. when he would see your favourite candy he would be reminded of your awful sweet tooth you constantly complained about, and how he would scold you for eating too many.

“but they taste so good!” you would defend yourself. your voice rang in his ears.

-

in the first two weeks he would cry himself to sleep every day. his pillow was always soaking from the waterfall of tears. he would grab another pillow from the living room, and spray it in your favourite perfume, and would cuddle it, pretending he was cuddling you, all while taking in your scent.

one night, he jolted awake with a gasp. his forehead was covered in beads of sweat and his breath was shaky and uneven. it was a nightmare. they had become much more frequent since your death.

karl reached his arm out to the pillow beside him, looking for some comfort and warmth.

but he forgot you weren’t there anymore.

he wished that you would just materialise from beneath his fingers and hold his hand. he wished to have you here and have you run your hands through his hair and shush him back to sleep.

karl swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to close his eyes and fall back asleep.

-

he didn’t like socialising with others now.

yes, he loved his friends, he wouldn’t give them up for the world. he felt so helpless when they saw him. they all gave him this identical look filled with pity. whenever they saw him and they’d always ask him ‘how are you feeling today?’

he was so sick of that question.

when he logged on discord with the boys, they treated him differently, like he was glass, and was about to shatter any moment.

he hated feeling so weak.

in the third week, his family suggested talking to your family. maybe they both could slowly heal by talking about the positive aspects of your life.

he despised the idea at first, but after coming round to your old house, sitting down and talking to your parents. he found himself smiling for the first time in ages, as he ran his fingers over a baby picture of you.

visits to your parents became much more regular, they were much closer. karl felt a sense of pride, because he knew it’s what you would’ve wanted.

-

four weeks. one month. time was passing by slowly but thankfully it was giving him time to grieve, and time to reflect. he felt like the hole in his heart was very slowly starting to repair itself

music was playing from his phone on spotify, karl was boiling a pot of water for his pasta. when it was hot enough, he threw in his pasta and let it cook. karl sat down and started scrolling through instagram, the music still playing.

he lightly chuckled at a funny meme he read. he went to send it to alex.

the grin on his face disappeared when he realised his finger was hovering over your username.

he wished he could send it to you. his mind started drifting to you all over again.

when the pasta was finally done. karl felt his stomach rumble and he was glad he would finally get some food in his system. he prepared the table, and poured a glass of juice for himself too.

the music changed to one of his favourite songs, he started singing along to it, his body swaying slightly as he turned around with the pot to pour it onto the plate, ready to eat it. only then did he realise his mistake.

he set out two plates.

two forks.

two glasses.

one for him.

and for you

karl gnawed at his lip. he stared at the second set of cutlery like it was an intruder. his lips started to tremble, and without realising, he dropped the pot.

the loud clash against the tile floor brought him back to reality. immediately, he bent down to pick up his mess, but it was all pushing him over the edge.

this was his breaking point

he angrily threw the pot back onto the floor, while the most gut-wrenching scream left his body.

he rested against the door of the oven, his head leaned uncomfortably against the handle. sobs ripped from his throat. his voice was starting to feel scratchy. karl rocked back and forth, his head banging the handle each time, causing his head to get dizzier and dizzier until he almost felt nauseous.

his hands were tugging at his hair as he buried his face into his knees. he knew he had lost control of himself. another wave of tears emerged.

he tried to calm himself, he tried to steady himself. karl was mumbling out loud as his body was quaking, but every few seconds it would be interrupted by a few guttural sounds. sounds of pain and anguish melded together.

“why would you leave me?” he cried, his voice breaking.

karl wasn’t healing like he thought.

you were the other half that made him whole.

and you were mercilessly ripped away from him

he just didn’t know how he could go on living without you.

———

masterlist

[2jaeh]

TEACH ME I  TEN LEE

Genre: smut, mature themes

Warnings: corruption!kink

Stripper!Ten , Innocent!Reader

Word Count: 2,2k

Author SIN

What happens when the best dancer at your club offers you an offer of a lifetime, a lap dance, private and free off charge..

—————————————————————————

“Table number 4” you heard the bartender call while your eyes were fixated on the crew setting up the stage in front of you. “Oh, yeah” you received the tray of drinks from him and sauntered over to a table in the far left corner.

You cleared your throat as you noticed the person who you were serving was your boss Miya, the owner of the club and a handsome young man dressed in a red leather suit. “Oh Ten! You dont know y/n right ? she's new here” Miya pulled out a chair for you to take a seat.

“H-hi” you nodded nervously as the red suited man's lips turned into a cat-like grin.

“This is Ten Lee” Miya introduced, “He used to work here a few years ago until he became famous” You watched as the man became bashful and shook his head, “I'm not famous, I'm just getting started.”

“Y-you were a waiter or-” your words were cut off by Ten’s laughter as he marvelled at your innocence. What was a girl like you doing in an all-male strip club ?

“Ten was our highest priced dancer, usually booked for the expensive bachelorette parties” Your boss explained as you mentally dissed yourself for even thinking he could've been a waiter.

You were extremely new to this world after all. One of your uni friends had you cover for her at this club not too long ago and the boss took a liking to you. She admired your patience with the drunk women who cried in the bathroom stalls and how you always worked hard even if the club barely had customers.

“Hey, I'll be with you in a bit Ten, I need to meet with the bridal party.” Your boss excused herself and jogged over to her office.

You sat in silence, your head down as you watched your fingers twirl in your lap. You knew he was staring at you. Ten scooted in the chair next to you and you heard him sip on his drink and exhale deeply,

“Ever had a lap dance y/n ?”

Ten sucked in his bottom lip and you felt your heartbeat race as he placed his arm on your chair, his eyes narrowed and his smile turned into a smirk,

“Babygirl you're so cute, do I intimidate you ?”

“I'm just a little awkward I guess” you tried to ignore the little pet name he had given you but it sent chills down your spine. Ten’s demeanor changed and his eyes seemed softer, he swiveled his body to face you and his bright smile shone in the dim lighting.

“I'm here for a special request, there's a rich bride who hired me and I'm going to be performing for her” Ten explained, you could see the excitement in his eyes like a kid in a candy store, “I want you to watch my performance”

“-but I’ll be working tonight-”

“No no, I’ll tell Miya to give you a chance to be part of the audience” Ten waved his hand and chugged his drink, “It’s not everyday I get a first time viewer, especially one thats as innocent as you”

“I have watched the shows before…” you swallowed as you noticed his eyes had darkened again.

“Yeah but you haven't watched me, now have you ?” Ten wet his bottom lip with his tongue and reached for your hand, “I’ll tell you what, if you enjoy it I’ll give you a private dance free of charge”

Your eyes widened at his offer. What does a star performer like him want to do with someone like you ?

“W-why ?” you managed to say,

“I dont know y/n you're just so goddamn cute it drives me crazy.”

The club lights finally turned on and it glimmered shades of pink and purple as the bridal party made themselves comfortable up front, already on their third round of drinks. You were amazed that women indulged in things like this much like men, but this atmosphere was better, more wholesome. It was one of the reasons you decided to take the job. You were quite awkward being open sexually, and everyday you learnt from the women who came in that it was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Okay ladies, now you know you're in for a treat” Miya said into a microphone as she walked onto the stage. The women went crazy, already pulling out stacks of cash from their designer bags and gathered around the stage in anticipation.

The lights dimmed and you nervously took a seat just behind the bridal party as requested by Ten and pursed your lips, not knowing what to expect.

A sultry beat filled the room, you could feel the bass under your feet as the women screamed their heads off when a few regular strippers gathered on stage in police uniforms. The men danced around, discarding various pieces of clothing but this was all too familiar to you. Nothing really stood out from other shows that you had seen until Ten appeared.

Ten emerged from the smoke, dressed in black leather pants and a matching jacket that showed off his bare chest adorned with a harness. He pushed back his hair as he slowly walked down the runway, the screams from the women obviously not being new to him. Ten got down to his knees as he looked over the bride-to-be, his eyes were mischievous as he slowly rid himself of his jacket and threw it into her lap. You watched intently as he ran his hand down his body, pushing his head back as if he were in ecstasy by his own touch.

You were hypnotized, watching his every move as he swayed his body along with the music and touched himself in the process. It felt so dirty to watch but you couldn't help yourself, you were intrigued, you wanted more. Ten wasn't as naked as the rest of the men yet you could tell that all eyes were on him and him only. He climbed up the pole, moving his hips against it, making love to it in front of everyone. You unconsciously squeezed your thighs together as you noticed his eyes on you for a brief second as his feet reached the floor and began grinding on the pole.

You felt light headed to the point of rushing to the bar and grabbing a glass of water, not realizing that the show had now come to an end and Ten was nowhere to be seen.

“He’s good huh” The bartender chuckled as you cooled yourself down,

“Oh yeah he’s really good” you sighed and you heard a snicker come from behind you.

“Well thank you” Ten grabbed a glass of water from the bartender and leaned on the counter to face you, “ready for that lap dance ?”

You found yourself nodding and Ten smirked, holding out his hand “Shall we ?” You took his hand and he led you upstairs where the private rooms were located. You never had a chance to check them out since they were rarely booked out because they were so ridiculously priced.

“Baby can I ask you one more question ?” Ten purred as he set you on the fluffy pink couch and stroked your cheek as you looked up to him and nodded,

“Y-yeah sure”

“Are you a virgin ?”

You shook your head and Ten raised his eyebrow, “Oh baby is a little naughty then ?”

You felt your face burn up and shook your head, “It was only with my ex-boyfriend and we didn't do…..much”

Ten placed a kiss on your hands and made his way to the cd player, ready to pick out a song. You sat awkwardly as he removed his jacket, standing in the middle of the room with just his leather pants and harness.

“Dont worry, I’ll only fuck you if you ask me nicely” he smirked, you swallowed hard as he swayed his hips and made his way over to you. Ten smirked as you sunk into the couch, your eyes practically devouring him as he danced slowly and sultry, concentrating on his hip movements as you bit down on your lip.

Ten got down on his knees and his hooded eyes locked with yours as he continued to sway to the music and his hands danced lightly over your thighs sending you into a frenzy. He pushed your legs apart and used his hands to lift himself off the floor until he was hovering over you, his eyes scanning every part of your body.

You leaned back so he could straddle you, allowing him to grind his body against you until you felt every part of him. “You can touch me if you want y/n” he whispered into your ear and you already found your hands on his waist, enamoured by how perfect his body was.

Ten wrapped his hand lightly around your throat and looked at your lips, waiting for a confirmation from you. Already nodding, Ten pressed his lips against yours passionately, literally and figuratively taking your breath away.

“Ten-I want you to…” you tried to speak against his rough kisses.

“Want me to what baby, use your words” he growled against your ear,

“What you said earlier….I want you to-”

“I said use your words tell me what you want me to do or else you won't get it babygirl” Ten squeezed your throat a little harder, smirking when he heard your pretty moan for the first time.

“I want you...to fuck...me” you finally said softly, Ten groaned at the sweetness in your voice. It sounded so innocent yet so vile at the same time and he couldn't contain himself any longer.

Ten ripped open your white dress shirt and skillfully pulled off your trousers, leaving you on the couch in just your matching lilac underwear. His smirk grew as you slowly reached for his pants, helping him unbuckle it.

He discarded his pants and propped your legs up on the couch as you sat there, spread open for him, wanting him. Ten got to his knees and took the sight in, the way he looked at you was absolutely filthy. He cocked his head to the side and took a seat on the floor, resting his hands behind him as he stared at you,

“Take off your underwear and touch yourself”

You swallowed hard at his words, you had never done something like this before and just him watching you like this made you slightly nervous. You played with the hem of your underwear and you noticed how intently he watched you, eager eyes and wet lips waited for you.

You gathered up the courage and slipped them off, bringing your fingers between your legs and hesitantly began to please yourself.

“You don't like to be touched, or do you want me to do it ?” Ten’s dark eyes bore into yours, “do you want me to teach you how to do it?”

Without giving him an answer Ten got in between your legs and his hands ghosted over your inner thighs, sending a shiver down your spine. He watched your eyes close as his fingers inched closer to your heat, dancing around but not close enough to where you needed him to be.

“Please” you whimpered as he teased you, placing soft kisses on your thighs as his finger finally entered you and your beautiful moan echoed throughout the room. Ten slowly withdrew his finger and inserted it at an agonizing pace, adding another when he felt you shift in your spot in frustration.

“Someones in a rush” he cooed as he slowly fingered you, bringing you to your breaking point multiple times. Ten finally decided to quit his games and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he used his free hand to discard his boxers.

Once you licked him clean Ten positioned himself in front of you with his tip at your entrance. “If it's too much tell me to stop okay, I can be a bit….rough” he ran his fingers through his hair and winked at you.

He pushed himself into you with one thrust and you threw your head back practically screaming his name. Unlike his fingers he wasted no time in bringing you to your climax with his fast sharp movements, hitting that sweet spot every single time.

You felt your orgasm build up rapidly and you threw your hands around his neck as he only moved faster, the room filled with your whimpers and his soft grunts. Ten dug his nails into your waist as he came undone with you, it had been a while that he actually felt that type of euphoria, and all he wanted was more, more of you.

“There's a lot I need to teach you y/n” Ten sighed as he took a seat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, “Do you want to learn from me?”

You nodded already feeling yourself wanting him inside you again,

“Good girl.”