#prompted by my grandma

[theghoulofme]

something that genuinely annoys me as a chronically ill person is getting constantly asked only about my health. how are you? how are you dealing with it mentally? im the same as always. this is my normal. i don't want to be constantly asked about it. cant you be interested in something else about me. not my health. ask me about what I've been doing. what am i listening to. any fun dreams ive had. it gets really depressing very fast when every single interaction with others ends up starting with your chronic illnesses.

like i know it feels fucking different to you and you with your perfect health can't even imagine how someone is living like this. but this is my life. this is my normal. and id like to get treated like im more than just my illness

[aritimena]

assorted dandadoodles

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

On the outskirts of Gotham a farm is made.

No one can pinpoint when it was started but it was clearly bountiful.

New orchards of plums apples and several other fruit whisper promises of fruits in the years to come.

Bee houses buzzed with life and ducks quacked and scurried to and from their pond, coop and the garden.

Vegetables by the rows with seasonal berries brushes spring up at the corners of the property.

Greenery that almost seemed to glow with how lush it was.

It was like a small oasis in the desert of Gotham’s dirty land.

And it was ran by only three people.

The woman’s name was Sam. She was known as an activist who seemed to do the primary care of the plants. The property was in her name and she went out of her way to invite people to take what they need.

Danny was the most well known of the trio. He brought the produce into the heart of the city. Anywhere that would take the food, kitchens, pantries, school cafeterias even people’s doorsteps.

Tucker was the technical mastermind, hidden but equally important. The sprinklers, planning of the pollination rotation, harvesting planning and statistics were his main focus on the farm. Not a single square inch of the the land was not under his watchful gaze.

All the food was fresh or properly stored and most interesting of all free.

Of course people were going to talk.

[tender-traps]

you are an agent in the service of your king, a spy. you know that six months ago, the four spies sent to a rival kingdom suddenly fell out of contact, all at once.

now your king has been invited to visit his rival’s court, and you are being brought along, disguised as a servant, to see what you might find out about the missing agents.

you’re there when your king is presented to the other ruler, and you see the kneeling person wearing a collar chained to the throne. you know him. he’s the reason you begged to be here—your mentor, your best friend. the same one who went silent six months ago.

you’re there to see him pulled into the ruler’s lap later that evening, his face flushed with shame. you can tell he’s noticed you from the way he pointedly avoids looking in your direction.

you manage to sneak into his room at night and speak to him alone, urging him to run back home with you. terrified, he insists that you can’t be here, they can’t find out you matter to him. he can’t run or the other three spies in the ruler’s cells will suffer for it. and the ruler has every resource at their disposal, leaving no chance for a clean escape.

you have to go, you have to leave him here, he begs you.

but you aren’t going to accept that.

[rexwrendraws]

Dreamling Week 2023 — Day 1: Meowpheus (ref, under the cut!)

[x]

[fandom-err0r]

jade english mayhaps,,? (post-scratch jade) some mildly Lord English themed clothing would be cool :>

i drew this while sick i fear and made her a touch badass. oh well

[fisheito]

will i ever stop thinking about little red riding yakumo and the big bad fox.?hm. no... no, i don't think i will

[allthecastlesonclouds]

tell me about drawtectives. what is this little show.

oooooh my god oh my god. they are my guys. so.

drawtectives itself is a youtube series created by julia lepetit on Drawfee. it's an rpg mystery show– s1 is a murder mystery, s2 is just a mystery– that doubles as an art challenges show. she draws all of the backgrounds and npcs and most of the assets (the 'cutscenes', you could call them) and then the team gets together, knowing absolutely nothing besides what julia's asked them to prepare, and does some funky improv to create a very funky storyline.

there are 3 players and one dm; the pcs are rosé, york, and grendan/grenda/grandma/gma, and the Big NPCs are Jancy True (s1/s2) and Eugene Finch (s2) and they're, in their own words, a found family, so. beloved. their backup plan if all their jobs fail is to move out east and open a bookstore. jancy and eugene have fully accepted their titles as mom/ancestral ghost and son despite meeting each other likely once before the drawtectives dragged them together. overall though if i had to summarize, it's a bunch of friends getting together, making a bunch of puns, appreciating julia's art, and laughing together. the vibes are 10/10 so loving. in writing the transcripts i've written (Karina laughs) (Nathan laughs) (All laugh) So Many Times it's just fun.

so there's three pcs. first one we meet is gyorik 'york' rogdul, who's a half-orc come to the city to learn about his mother's culture. he is the character we have by far the most lore for– if I compiled all the lore I had about the Northern Tribes and Wild Trains, I think the document would be multiple pages. he's also illiterate, which was an interesting decision for the english major of the group to make (in other words, York Will Not Be Illiterate For Season Three bc Y'all Cannot Read) and morally gray if you think about it too hard (he killed his own brother) but yknow he's hot so it's okay. they're all hot any crimes committed are okay. he's also aroace (confirmed by the player, which is!! vibes!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR TELLING ME @axolotllee!)

rosé is the Human Rogue and the youngest of the party; her main trait in s1 was Millennial and she Dealt with that. she, in contrast with York, has so little lore we are scraping the barrel. she was a thief, then left everything about that life behind and changed her name to rosé when she went to work for jancy. she lied on her resumé. she knows how to sew; she's sewn Pockets of Holding on most of her clothing. she bonded with a stray cat that lived outside her last apartment. she's three credits short of graduating college. she's, in addition to being a drawtective, jancy's intern, and cried when jancy got her a cupcake. she won't tell her best friends when her birthday is or where she goes to school or what her last name is. that's all we know about her and i love her and she could probably kill someone as she has multiple knives on her person and does not use them. she's bright and funny and can be pretty dark but really does find the humor in it which is. wonderful.

so grendan highforge starts out as The Snobby Rich Boy which. already love the trope something Always Happens To Them if they're a pc. then through s1 they make an offhand comment about a character (faucon, whose name is pronounced 'falco') and how if her name was pronounced that way it'd be grenda. faucon asks how they feel about it. they are caught very off-guard by that and then ask to be called it for the next hour or so. then the next witness calls him gma, and then grandma, and then. yeah she realizes she's genderfluid. and he uses any pronouns and has a full beard and also wears a romper and loves dogs and the player is the Most Experienced TTRPG-er so through maybe using resources a bittt grandma is the most observant character of all of them. he's also a dog walker and a lightweight and does canonically have druidic magic though that was Not Touched On Much and showed up to their first day on the job slightly stoned (they did stop doing that though.) she carries around a box to make the height difference (york is 7'. grendan is 4'. rosé is 6'. you can see the formatting issue) slightly less difficult. she doesn't know how rhinos reproduce but has had a fascination with them since a police chief said one might've committed a crime. i think they could kill someone by talking too much but they don't actually have the strength or dex to do Jack Shit.

and jancy true is the head pi (a great many of the characters are puns and i love it so much) and is there to make sure things get done and clues don't get missed. she has a cochlear implant and uses a cane and solved s1 just by Reading The Paper and hearsay. she solved about half of s2 before Someone Stopped Her. she says hello children to the drawtectives and it is such a fond thing. eugene is. a guy who i love. julia started the show thinking he would be some mysterious character to join them and then made the wonderful improv decision– avoiding having to do npc-npc conversation– of saying 'yeah eugene is spinning a camera on its stand' and rosé just says so gleefully. 'guys. i think he's stupid.' and he became their son. his character is a lot of The Plot of s2 so i don't want to get into it too much but. jancy and eugene my beloved.

they're just. such a family. to quote nathan (grenda's Player) from the s2 talkback: "That's one of my favorite things about this show, is we came in with these vague ideas for characters, and just playing them with each other, they became friends and became better people as a result of knowing each other and solving mysteries. ... Like, we all kind of independently made our characters people that either were distant from their families or, you know, just had tenuous connections to other stuff, and so these are, like, the realest connections they have in their lives."

and then karina (rosé) about 10 seconds later: "Yeah, we love a found family where they bond over just being the worst."

god. them. they're chaotic and loud and feel very real to me. they have excitement and are pretty bad at social cues but they love each other and want to die together because they would hate too much to be separated. i could articulate this better but it's one in the morning and they mean a great deal to me.

[xx-completely-in-ur-car-xx-blog]

Week 4: New Prompt (Favourite Outfit)

As someone who owns a few things worn on the show, it's a tough question for me. The answer's obviously none of those though: it's Evelyn's 'Senior Prom' 'fit in 3 Geeks and a Demon. It was definitely giving sophisticated sorceress vibes: 10/10.

Here's a little cartoon doodle of the main trio dressed in the adults' Senior Prom get-up:

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 05: Sunburn

Healing Salve + "If my pain will stretch that far"

2385 Words; Raised by Serpentine, sometime before "Can of Worms"

TW for mentions of past attempted indirect genocide (the serpentine entombment)

AO3 ver

“I wonder if we should go down to the lake later.” Lou mused.

Skalidor turned his attention to Lou, “You hate the lake.” It was true—the lake was a deep half-flooded underground cavern that seemed to stretch on forever, the other end unlit and unreachable. Lou did not consider himself a strong swimmer, and rarely went down there if he could help it.

Lou shrugged. “I was thinking we might have fish for dinner.” He stepped to the side as an overexcited hatchling barreled between them, a harried parent chasing after them.

Skalidor hmmed. “That does sound good. Perhapss Cole and I can go down there to surprisse you with one.” The tunnel they were in opened up as they reached the central chamber, torches and patches of growing moss illuminating a spiral up to the ceiling high above. Chanting filled the area—there was an active Slitherpit in progress towards the center.

“You and I can what?” Cole arrived before them, the same hatchling tucked under his arm and squirming furiously. He turned his attention to the hatchling—ah, Skalidor recognized this one. Little Pebbline, the youngest in the entire tomb. “You can’t just run around recklessly,” Cole was chiding, as Pebbline struggled valiantly to return to the ground. “You’re going to break your face on a wall.”

“Will not!” Pebbline protested, hanging upside-down in Cole’s arms at this point.

“Pebbline!” And there was Bytar, her father. “Thank you for catching her, Cole.” He smiled, taking Pebbline in his arms, and she hissed her displeasure before subsiding.

Cole grinned. “Of course!”

Bytar turned back into the tunnel, then, heading off with Pebbline in tow. Skalidor could faintly hear her begging to go back so she could see the Slitherpit.

“It’s a good thing you don’t run around like that anymore.” Lou commented, as Cole fell into step with them. “I could barely catch you back then, I wouldn’t want to imagine having to catch you now!”

Cole opened his mouth to respond—

A terrible grinding sound filled the central chamber, the sound of stone against stone harsh and loud. Screams broke out as everyone looked for the source of the noise, and Skalidor clutched his staff and pulled Lou against his side. Cole leapt forwards, arms outstretched as though he might prevent the inevitable cave-in—as though he was yet capable of moving more than small pebbles.

“It’s coming from above!” Someone shouted.

“The ceiling will crush usss!” Another voice realized.

“EVERYONE OUT OF THE CHAMBER!” Skalidor commanded, watching as Dweller and Constrictai alike dashed for the tunnel entrances lining the wall. He started to slither back, Lou still close at hand, once it seemed as though almost everyone was out—Cole!

“Cole, what are you—” Skalidor started, almost ready to go back in just to drag him out. This reckless boy—!

“It’s not caving in.” Cole’s arms had fallen to his sides, and he was gazing up into the shadows of the ceiling with an unreadable expression. “It’s—”

He stumbled back at the same time that the grinding stopped, arm raised above his head as he stared up towards the ceiling.

“Cole.” Skalidor hissed. The whole chamber was clearly unstable, after a noise like that—or worse, it had been one of the tunnels, and Skalidor’s order had seen several of his people buried—

“Skal,” Lou stepped forwards, pointing up towards the ceiling, “dear, look up.”

Skalidor looked up.

His staff clattered to the ground from a suddenly boneless hand—Skalidor ducked down to pick it up, keeping his eyes up on the ceiling—at the top of the stairs that wound around and up, a remnant of when their community had first been entombed generations ago—

Eyes locked on the bright circle of light where before there were shadows.

The light shooting down the stairs was brighter than any torchlight Skalidor had seen before, brighter than any glowing moss. It almost didn’t seem real—never, in all of his decades, had Skalidor conceived of the tomb being opened. But that was what the light had to be, right? Surely, it couldn’t mean anything else.

Faces were peeking into the central chamber from the tunnels scattered about, curious mutterings filling the air as everyone present took in the new development.

“Open?”

“That light!”

“Impossible! Nothing can break the barrier!”

“It’ss ssso bright…”

“How did it open?”

“A monster! A monster iss coming down to kill uss all!”

There was a shape casting a shadow upon the steps. Skalidor gripped his staff, and slithered forwards. Cole fell into step beside him, and Skalidor held his staff in front of the boy to stop him.

“Wh—lemme help!” Cole protested, voice close to a whisper.

“Sstay here.” Skalidor hissed. “I will invesstigate. You will protect.” Cole made a face, but backed off, standing beside Lou as Skalidor ascended the ancient steps.

That the stairs were completely out of use wasn’t actually true—though the tomb was magically sealed, the stairs allowed access to the upper walls of the central chamber—Skalidor passed by murals and carvings that had existed long before him without a second glance. He slowed down as he reached the top, squinting against the light.

The form that cast the shadow stood at the entrance, backlit by light so bright that Skalidor couldn’t make out any features. But their shape was vaguely serpentine—they would likely be strong, if it came to blows. They might even have some of the strange adaptations Skalidor had heard the supposed other tribes of Serpentine possessed.

“Who goesss there?” Skalidor asked, when the figure remained still. After a moment, they moved, slithering forwards and ducking their head. Their neck was very long—a potential handhold for grappling, then.

“Greetingss, my Constrictai cohort.” Their voice was smooth and even, and they moved to the side of Skalidor. They were scaled, just as he expected—but where Skalidor bore the blacks and oranges of a Constrictai, they were violet.

“An Anacondrai?” Skalidor asked. He’d heard the tales—they were the strongest of the Serpentine, the fastest and most resilient. They outmatched every other tribe, and lead the charge in the ancient war—but even they, too, had fallen, or so every tale assumed.

The Anacondrai nodded his head. “Oh, where are my manners?” They offered a hand, “Pythor P. Chumsworth, at your service.” He smiled, then, pleasant and disarming.

“How did you open the tomb?” Not even an Earth Master could break the barrier, nor could they tunnel around it—though there had been plenty of attempts. The tomb was meant to be permanent—a resting place, where those entombed were to die and never return.

“Curious, no?’ Pythor inclined his head towards the entrance. “Far as I can tell, for all the effort they put into making the tombs inescapable from within, that same effort wasn’t given to prevent them being opened from the outside.”

Skalidor balked. “That easy? But why?” There were no intentions to let the entombed out—or else they wouldn’t have been trapped down there for generations. Right?

Pythor shrugged. “Well, the rock was rather heavy. But yes, I could feel the magic breaking as I moved it. The seal didn’t wear off.”

Skalidor hissed. The light seemed to beckon him, and he tore forwards, needing to see for himself that the tomb has well and truly been breached—

Skalidor recoiled as the light from outside the tomb hit him in full. After a moment, he reopened his eyes, slowly enough that, though the light still burned, it did not sear quite as bright as before. His eyes adjusted, to a light level they had never experienced before—

Skalidor gasped.

Pythor slithered up beside him. “Well?” He prompted, staring out at the sights he had already seen.

“It’s…” Skalidor searched for the words. He had thought nothing could dwarf the underground lake in terms of sheer size—and yet. The light bearing down was hot, far hotter than any torchlight, and brighter as well. It reminded him of a festival years past when they had set up a bonfire in the central chamber. Back when Lilly… back when she had still been alive, standing at his side and making sure the smoke didn’t flood the caverns.

But not even the bonfire had anything on this. Skalidor turned his head towards the sky, eyes squinting against the light raining down. It was so bright. He could hardly see—and yet it was still better than when he had first emerged, and couldn’t see at all.

Pythor watched as Skalidor breathed in the outside air—it was hot, bone dry, so different from the caverns—patiently allowing the general to adjust. “Incredible, is it not?” He asked.

Skalidor breathed slowly, just trying to take in the enormity of the sky above him. Brilliant blue—he wasn’t sure he had seen blues so deep—cascading from horizon to horizon like the roof of a cavern—and yet the sky seemed to go on forever in a way that stone did not.

“It’ss something.” Skalidor breathed, dizzy from the magnitude of it. “I never imagined…”

Pythor chuckled. “I think we’ve all felt like this.” He swept an arm out, “I can’t believe this was kept from us—and for what?” his expression darkened. “Because of some trifle like a war that ended long before you and I were born? For generations, we’ve suffered beneath the surface, locked away from all of this world that they’re not even using—!” He paused, taking a breath. “My apologies,” He bowed his head. “I lost control of myself. But the knowledge of all that we’ve been denied—” He cut himself off with a hiss, shaking his head.

“No, I think I get it.” Skalidor spoke. “There’s just. Sso much.” From this perch atop—a mountain, was that the word? Skalidor had to think back to the stories of the surface passed down through generations—but from up so high, Skalidor could see so much. And yet he couldn’t make out anything living—that he recognized. All this space…

The tomb was never really cramped, in Skalidor’s memory—there simply weren’t enough Constrictai or Dwellers in it. Maybe it had been cramped when the original community had first been sealed away—but that had been long before Skalidor’s time. But he had heard the stories, of what could grow up here, of animals much bigger than cave newts. The vast distance laid out before him suddenly seemed so ideal—and yet he couldn’t spot a single surface human, nor any sign of their communities. He absently noticed his tail buzzing. He didn’t quite care to stop it.

“They have all this space that they’re not even ussing.” Skalidor hissed. “We have had to sscrape together what little we could find—”

“They don’t deserve this.” Pythor agreed, “Not one bit. Not after locking us away like vermin!”

Skalidor’s grip on his staff tightened.

“Skal, you ok—OWWW—” Skalidor turned around to see Cole poking his head out the entrance—well, no, the boy had stumbled back into the shadows of the entrance, what little of his face wasn’t hidden behind his arm scrunched against the light.

Skalidor chuckled. “Bright, isn’t it?” Beside him, Pythor’s eyes narrowed.

Cole tentatively reached his hand out into the light. “It feels like I’m sticking my hand in fire.” He muttered, before pulling back. Slowly, he lowered his arm, eyes blinking open—and immediately squinting against the light.

Pythor grimaced. “There are humans in your tomb?” He sounded put out by the very idea.

Skalidor regarded him curiously. “Sssurface humanss were willing to entomb their own kind.” He spat. “But now the dwellers are simply more of our kind—our community—” He looked at Cole with fondness— “Cole is our Elemental Master. Earth, in fact.” There was uncontained pride in his voice, for all that Cole had yet to fully inherit Lilly’s mantle and powers.

Pythor hmmed. “I had heard that a Master of Earth took up arms on the side of the Serpentine.” He stared at Cole curiously. “I had thought it just a tale to tell hatchlings, to give them false hope.”

“Well, I’m real.” Cole replied. He glared at Pythor for a moment more before schooling his expression. “Thanks for opening the tomb.” He said, in tones of quiet disbelief.

Skalidor could hardly believe it himself. “We can leave the tomb.” He murmured. “We wouldn’t be trapped anymore—what you’ve given us access to, I—I don’t know how we could ever repay you.”

Pythor waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, no no! I don’t need anything in return! I just abhorred the thought of any of my fellow Serpentine continuing to suffer in their tombs.” His mouth curled in distaste, “It really was cruel of the humans to entomb us all. They don’t deserve this pristine surface of theirs.” He hissed. “Not one bit.”

Skalidor nodded. “You have my agreement on that.”

Cole leaned against the side of the entrance, arms crossed. When Skalidor glanced back, he could see others had climbed up the stairs—even if most of the watching faces were sticking to the shadows, eyes squinted against the light.

Pythor’s head tilted as he regarded them all. “Well, while I did say that I didn’t need anything in return…” He mulled over his words before continuing, “I was hoping you might join me in my endeavor to reunite the Serpentine once again. It would be so wonderful to take the surface back from the humans, don’t you think?”

Skalidor wanted to. Just looking at the open space spilling out before him, and knowing that there was yet more that had been denied to his people by the sealing of the tomb—he wanted the surface humans to pay for their crimes. To deliver the grievances of hundreds of Constrictai and Dwellers from generations of suffering unto them, and make them pay.

There was one problem, though. “We barely number two hundred.” Skalidor pointed out. “And many of our number are not built for war.” There were the elderly, the young, the sick and those disinclined to fight. Nobody was at full strength—especially not with the current blight. “How will we ever defeat the surface humans, when our ancestors could not?”

Pythor chuckled. “Oh, my practical friend, I have just the plan for that!” He looked to Cole, and then to the cautious faces peeking out of the tomb’s entrance, and spoke.

“Have any of you heard of the legend of the Great Devourer?”

[platonic-prompts]

Platonic Prompt

"Why do I smell dawn?"

"I am an oil covered duckling."

"That doesn't---"

"I am an oil covered duckling."

[bloodwards]

when your mom walks into the room and just randomly launches into like a 20 minute monologue

[yujeong]

For a writing prompt, how about Pete and his grandmother, post-canon? It could be Vegas/Pete + Macau + Pete's grandmother as well or any combination you want ^_^

I wonder how his grandmother would react to seeing a Pete she both knows and one who has been changed. How would Pete walk the line between the truth she deserves to know and the pain he wants to preserve her from? There are so many unique tensions between them that I'd love to see you explore <3

My beautiful friend, how kind of you to send me this prompt ❤️ Pete and his relationship with his grandma has occupied my thoughts many, many times, so this is an incredible chance to explore them. You already know this, but for the rest who will read it, the following will be part of a bigger fic I intend to write someday, which I had presented briefly here: aka, Pete will be teaching Vegas boxing post-canon, despite both of their better judgements. Here, Pete's grandmother finds out about it 😌 It's a very rough draft and very incomplete, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🥰 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Pete, dear, you're adding too many peppers." The pan made a sizzling sound when he added the fifth pepper into the mix, ignoring his grandma's comment. "Don't worry, grandma. It's fine. It's not too spicy," he said, adding another one just because. He heard a deep sigh coming from the laptop placed on the counter next to him. A smile appeared on his lips. "For you and me it isn't, but you know how the city boys are." "I know," Pete agreed, "I'm preparing this for them. Macau will be fine, he's taken this as a challenge." "That young man and his bravado," his grandma sighed again. "Sometimes, I worry he'll get himself into real trouble one day." "You and me both, grandma," Pete said and shook his head at the memories that resurfaced. It couldn't really be described as sadness, this feeling that overtook him. More like fondness mixed with melancholy. Macau had been through a lot this past year and Vegas' recklessness lately was making it worse. Not that Pete could exactly blame him for it.

"Pete, the temperature is too high, lower the heat a bit," his grandma suddenly said, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was fascinating how she could understand these things without being able to see the meal being prepared. Pete had placed the laptop at an angle that only showed his torso and the kitchen table behind him, his face hidden completely from view. If he did that on purpose, it simply couldn't be proven in any way. He slowly turned the dial to lower the temperature as he was told, then stretched his arm to grab a wooden spoon with which he started scraping the bottom of the pan, making sure the mix wouldn't get burned. "Hm, I think it's almost done, it only-" "Pete." He stopped talking. He knew that tone. He had made a mistake. "Show me your hands." Fuck. She saw the marks. "I'm cooking grandma, what-" "Stop what you're doing and show me your hands right now." He tried not showing his discomfort as he lowered the heat even more and presented his open palms to the screen. He could see his grandma's wrinkled face, her frown deep and concerning. This was going to be hell. Pete tried avoiding showing his knuckles, but it was impossible; she insisted on seeing every single part of Pete's hands. He always hated when she did that. "Have you started boxing again?" Pete was so thankful she couldn't see the expression on his face. He wasn't sure he would be able to hide the dread he was feeling as he heard the question. "It's just some light exercise, grandma," he said and hoped his voice wasn't betraying him. "Vegas just wanted to be more active and-" "Vegas made you start boxing again?" Another mistake. Pete shouldn't have mentioned Vegas at all, he was such an idiot. He hoped Vegas would understand, when he found out. "Vegas didn't make me do anything." It wasn't a lie. It had been Pete's choice. He had made a lot of those recently. "Pete," his grandma said again, but this time, instead of angry, she sounded sad. Concerned. "If you need money, maybe you could talk to Mr. Tankhun. He could give you your old job back or find you a new one." "I won't fight," Pete yelled, feeling his blood boil at the mention of his old boss. He checked himself before continuing to speak, making sure he sounded unbothered. "Grandma, I won't do any matches. I'm simply teaching Vegas some basic moves and that's it." "Show me your face." A pause. "What?" "I need to see your face, Pete." His heart was thumping in his ears. He didn't want to be seen right now. He almost said so, before an energetic Macau entered the room and addressed him. "P'Pete, what are you making? Oh hi, grandma!" He ran over to the counter and lowered his body to see her clearly. Pete could tell she wasn't happy she lost the chance to see Pete's face, but she hid her displeasure immediately and smiled brightly at Macau, asking him how his day had been so far and if he had any plans for the rest of it. Pete internally sighed and returned to his cooking, his hand trembling as he was scraping the bottom of the pan with a little more force than necessary.

[soulmvtes]

feeling so wild n insane rn i'm gonna try and stay up and watch something tonight

[oldfangirl81]

Melissa: I went to the will reading for Grandma McCall. She left you her fetish collection.

Scott: *opens his mouth*

Stiles: *Remembered the bestiary debacle tackles Scott and slaps his hand over the boy's mouth* Neat. I'd love to see what stones are used in the jewelry.

[cuteniarose]

thoughts on ming-hua x p'li??

Unfairly attractive OTP rare pair that deserve a lot more love than they get, what else can I say?