#this is why teeth is never allowed to have caffeine

[blackbloodteeth]

13th Sentence Game

@bcbdrums linked me this post (about sharing the 13th sentence from any WIP), and then ended up spurring me into sharing them from all my WIPs. I hope this chaos is what you wanted.

While this is mostly everything, I've skipped some WIPs for reasons such as maybe ending up as potential Resbangs™, but otherwise enjoy this absurdly long list I've put together over the course of like three hours.

You can play along and try to guess what each one's about, if you want hahaha

1, "2021 July 15"* You're sitting up, sweating like crazy, all you can focus on is taking in air.

*Technically my first fic, but it was scrapped. Never really posted it because it's too confusing and now outdated.

2. "2021 Sep 24"* As the previously stated unpredictable behaviour has led to only a small number of assessments on combat, the full extent of his abilities remain undocumented.

*Was originally for an event, but I've considering expanding upon it.

3. "(WIP) TBN" It was like the world here at DWMA was some kind of grand show, and he was just some background character.

4. Inner Strings They all called him the Soul Eater.

5. "be crime do gay" Just. Not like that.

6. Scythes don't make for practical weapons He had no idea if he was going to be able to make friends at all, let alone find a meister, someone willing to accept him for himself and actually be able to use him effectively.

7. "(simple au)" He had an odd combo of red eyes with white hair and tan skin, sharp teeth pulled into a defiant scowl, and a black jacket hunched over a frame that didn't look to understand posture for shit.

8. When Death City snows over "Come on, I doubt it'll actually snow; that shit never happens here."

9. I ain't Feline fine She gets him to stand in the center of the spell zone while instructing Maka to keep behind her, eagerly fixing her hat with her paws before starting.

10. Teeth So he'd take to his now familiar hideaway, a piano tucked away in a sparsely used room.

11. Happy Birthday, Soul Not even Maka.

12. "cursed hall" Given they've gotten to know each other to some degree before now, he was already pretty adjusted to seeing the two other members of this makeshift team: Soul and, well, Soul.

13. It's been a long night for my entire life There was always work to be done and he couldn't wait to get started.

14. One Word* Seeing all those intertwined neighbors, how easily they all sent signals together, that part of him craving to connect and belong made him feel hollow, made him wish he could have that just like everybody else.

*Let it be known that this is the notorious development hell WIP.

15. It was a dark and stormy night Of course with her literary weapon and the sudden jolt of her appearance, the figure seems to have been startled enough to give an auditory following to their jumping back, dull gleaming red blinking wildly back at her tense confusion while- Wait, Soul??

16. Ride by night only [6:19 PM] Kinda with him actually, why are you in a hurry then lol

17. The Very Hungry Soul “Well if the very hungry caterpillar would like to make sure we’re not late, he should hurry up and get dressed before I eat his breakfast for him before it gets cold.”

18. See you on the other side "Soul?"

19. The Dragon and The Moth He’s stopped entirely in his tracks when she abruptly goes in for a hug, snout nuzzling against his chest with a much softened sweetness.

20. Draconic Upon further noting its smooth surface he soon realized it wasn’t a star but in fact some sort of rock, blandly opaque like that of salt despite its odd moonlit shimmers, which even stranger still became steadily see-through in the absorbed heat of his fingertips.

21. "(wings made of arms)" Could it... really be......?

22. The Unknown Caller Caller unknown. But for him that was a lie.

23. The Exchange [8th] "Drink?"

24. Don't Escape Making his way around the back, his eyes glide along the sides until he reaches the pile of small logs, the ax resting up against them exactly as he’d left it.

25. The 42nd Story (Ch. 2)* The muffled talking of a woman, determined to be coming from a nearby room.

*As stated in The Ramble Room, this entire story was scrapped. While I didn't share the second and only other chapter despite it being finished, the first chapter was still shared.

26. "2023july11" He proceeds with actually cleaning himself up, a faint smile keeping him still awake and upright.

27. "(Aug31)" Her smile fades a little as she looks him over, a different sense of intrigue making her face bunch up funnily.

28. "hand pun" Her horrid fascination grew to the point of needing a new name for it (morbid curiosity, that's a classic) as the guy turns the hand around while it signs to him, eyes impossibly wide when she notices the similar skin tone under his hood and the missing space in his left jacket sleeve and the red of his eyes when he suddenly looks directly at her.

29. "WereWeek prompt 3" There's this girl – new student who moved in this year – who is so bossy.

30. "trees"* So much on his mind that he can't hold at bay and he can't even walk about it.

*Technically a small one-shot collection, but it's all going to be in the same fic.

31. "here and now"* His fingers stretch out from his palms in front of the glass, hurriedly ruffling through his hair, his tongue sticking out and then grinning ear-to-ear at her again with all the sunlight in the world.

*My current WIP! It's been slow-going, but I can't wait to see it through to the end haha

The rest are unsorted WIPs in my "drabble zone (2024)" doc:

32. 'Cause you are more than just a dream There's an odd look he pauses on her with after hopping off that she can really only describe as him expecting her to feel like he just sealed her in with a wild animal.

33. "blacksmith au" While his body shown well the signs of having dedicated much of his life to his craft, there was a strange affliction splitting much of it in twain, diagonally from hip to shoulder as if sliced by the very heavens itself in warning.

34. Devils don't go to Heaven (working title) “...Where is this?”

Anything else is so disorganized or only a small handful of sentences that I'm just gonna go ahead and stop it here haha

Thanks for tuning in, hope this was at least entertaining, or possibly even enlightening to the sheer amount of WIPs I've manged to collect over the past few years. I do want to go back to them eventually, but one step at a time, eh?

[lemurballing]

‘random headcanons for the gals based on species/going into randomly specific detail on things’ post

from pictures (sadly have never gotten to interact with one 😔) of ringtailed lemurs their fur looks a lot like a cat’s fur, in the length, the thickness & coverage, the way it kinda ‘breaks apart’ into fissures and layers when they bend their joints… i like to think tangle has very long/fluffy fur all over (arms, legs, torso, all over!) and especially her tail, but it’s usually not puffed out, so it doesn’t poof up her silhouette by much, except at her joints. though, at 3ft scale, you wouldn’t see quite the same visual effect at scale as you would with a cat or actual lemur - so relatively, her fur would appear finer and the gaps less noticeable. maybe more maine coon texture?

whereas wolves have a coarser fur texture; it can be soft, but it’s moreso made to keep them insulated and warm. tangle would have the softer fur texture between them, at least on a majority of her fur, but since tangle wears the arm wraps it’d tamp down and coarsen some of her fur there - unless she trims it shorter. whisper’s fur keeps her extra warm, so she can wear less layers or cover less to still be warm enough, and particularly suffers during warm months (she just wants to wear her coat and that’s it!!! she’s sweltering!!) also, her fur is longest around her head/neck/back/tail, and she has thinner fur on her arms/legs, and thinnest on her belly/front - so she’ll flop face-down onto the floor or a cool surface to cool off best

tangle has lemur-y pads that go all the way from fingertips to her wrist underside; whisper has fur all over her hands except for ‘pad beans’ on her fingertips, finger-base ‘knuckle’ underside (is there a better word for that??) and the base of her palms. because fur is slick, tangle has better overall grip with her hands; this is why whisper makes use of the gloves, which help increase her grip with the underside, and have a thick material to protect her on the back-of-hand side. tangle also has fluffier hands so she prefers covering them less if she can - fingerless gloves or an arm wrap - and though she does have claws, they’re shorter than canine ones, and tangle’s careful with them.

also, being anthropomorphized, their diet is like a human’s - just scaled down to 3ft. so - they’re all omnivores, but the shape of their teeth and jaw make it easier to eat some foods over others, ie whisper having teeths for meat more than vegetables. this does not have to correspond to their favorite foods. poison tolerance relates to their size - and whisper doesn’t necessarily have to avoid chocolate, but it would take a smaller dose of caffeine to energize any of these guys compared to a human size, so it can still bug her to eat too much chocolate. good news for tangle, though! since strawberries are a good source of vitamin c, and real ringtailed lemurs produce their own - so they can potentially overdose on it.

also, tangle does have the monkey-toes to grab things with her feet, but she also doesn’t walk barefoot enough to really go out and about without shoes on comfortably, so it’s not necessarily widely useful. it would be possible to purchase shoes designed to allow the use of an opposable toe like that - but they’d be very rarely produced, and so hard to find, so tangle doesn’t own a pair.

anyways ya :3 will have more thoughts later but it is late tonight…

[sukoshininja]

Fogged Windows

Keith came as soon as he heard.

He squinted in the darkness, looking for the entrance. The snowfall wasn't making it any easier, the headlights in his old truck flickering. He spotted a blue sign with white "H" and an arrow. He veered right and drove as quick as he dared to the last open parking spot, wheels crunching the snow that had been piling up. Apparently Thursday nights were a popping time. Worst park job of his life, he slammed the door and tripped over the snow in his converse, soaking them. He barely gave it a thought as he jogged to the sliding doors of the building entrance.

The lady at the desk looked like she hadn't had a wink of sleep in a week. He told her who he was here for and after a consulting her computer her face grew somber. She explained as delicately as she could that Lance was in critical condition.

"Is he gonna be okay?" Keith asked, desperately.

She gave him a sad smile. "The doctors will do everything they can. It's their job."

Right. He knew that they weren't supposed to make promises one way or the other. A nurse had explained to him the whys back when Shiro had lost his arm. But the lack of reassurance was killing him.

"Can I see him?"

"At this time only one family member is permitted at a time."

Right. He knew that too was standard for critical care. Back then, he had lied through his teeth and said that he and Shiro were brothers. Luckily, the hospital staff took one look at him and allowed him through. Nevermind that he was Korean and Shiro was Japanese. He didn't think the same trick would work with Lance.

"Down the hall, there is a waiting room. There's a Keurig. The doctors will give you updates when they can," she said, clearly reciting a line she repeated multiple times a day. She still managed to say it kindly.

Keith gave her a curt nod and followed the hall where she directed.

He heard it before he saw it. It was packed. Given that everyone all shared similar features, he guessed they were family. Given that everyone all had brown skin and blue eyes, he guessed they were Lance's.

He had never met Lance's family. But Lance often talked about how large his family was. Keith had wondered what it was like, to have so many people care about you.

He stood awkwardly in the doorway, looking for an empty seat he could disappear into when a familiar voice spoke behind him.

"Oh, you're here."

He turned to find Hunk, double fisting energy drinks. He offered one to Keith.

Keith shook his head. "Caffeine makes me anxious."

Hunk hugged him.

Keith hugged him back.

"Hunk! So good of you to come," someone said behind him.

"Of course, Mrs. McClain. How is he?" Hunk asked, releasing Keith to turn to a middle-aged woman. She was strikingly beautiful. Of course she was, she must be Lance's mom.

Her teary face contorted with worry. "Bad. He wasn't wearing his seatbelt. Went through the windshield."

Of course he fucking wasn't. No matter how Keith nagged, the idiot never remembered to buckle up until Keith reminded him. He had warned him that one day he would die in a car accident, bleeding out in the street like some isekai protagonist. Lance had laughed as he kissed him and said it was good that Keith was there for him then.

"I'm so sorry," Mrs. McClain extended her hand to him. "Who are you?"

Keith took her hand. It was soft, despite the calluses on her fingertips. "I'm Keith. I'm his—" he faltered, catching himself, "...friend."

Lance wasn't out to his family. It never really bothered Keith. Family stuff. It's not like he knew what that was like. But right now it hurt not being able to claim how important her son was to him. Not when things were like this.

She gave him a warm smile, the lines at the corner of her eyes crinkling deeper. "Ah, you must be the one from college. He talks about you."

"That better be for me," Pidge says as they plucked an energy drink from Hunk's hand. "Hey, Mrs. M. Any news?"

She shook her head sadly.

A girl made a beeline for Keith, taking his arm and pulling him into the far corner, away from the majority of the crowd, her eyes sharp behind her glasses.

"You're his boyfriend, aren't you?" she whispered.

"Uh," Keith looked over to Hunk for any sort of sign. He had no idea who this girl was, but Hunk had known Lance since middle school.

"Leave Keith alone, Ronnie." Hunk warned as he weaved his way over to them, lowering his voice. "This isn't the 'met the family' we could have hoped for."

She gave Keith an appraising look. "He's always been a sucker for the pretty ones."

Hunk chuckled in agreement.

"I thought...no one was supposed to know," Keith reeled. Had Lance lied? Why? Did he not want to introduce Keith to his family?

"Oh, don't panic. He never said anything, not to me anyway, but I have fucking eyes," she flipped her bob. "So, do you like him?"

"What?" The directness of the question threw him off.

"Do you like him? Lance throws himself into these things body and soul and sometimes he misses the signs because he's so focused on his own feelings. So if you are just playing with him know that I. Will. Destroy. You." Her eyes were fierce. Keith could feel himself shrinking in on himself from the intensity of her glare.

"Relax, V. Keith was crushing on him way before Lance even noticed his emo ass. It was kind of pathetic really," Pidge said, slinging their arm around Keith. They were quite a bit shorter, and it looked rather awkward.

"Watching them get together gave me cavities," Hunk affirmed.

"I'm Veronica. His big sister," she held out her hand.

He took it. "Keith. Canidate for Lance’s future husband."

Veronica pulled his hand towards her, pulling him in for a hug.

"Positively nauseating," Pidge rolled their eyes.

Veronica held fast and a little too tightly. She was not letting go. "Welcome to the family, Keith," she whispered low enough that only he could hear.

"Hello, McClains?" a woman in a white jacket stepped into the room. "I am afraid I have some heavy news."

* * *

Keith walks out into the cold. But he doesn't feel it. Just like he can't feel his soggy socks or his burning eyes. He's numb to any and all physical sensations. Somehow he finds himself in the cab of his truck. He doesn’t remember getting there. He doesn't know how long he sat there before coming to.

A thin sheet of ice had formed on the windshield. Or maybe his sight is just really blurry. No, that is definitely ice.

The truck starts. His hand is on the key in the ignition. As if his body is on autopilot, moving separately from him. The defroster kicks on and he watches as the ice slowly begins to melt.

He is startled by something moving at his neck. A bead of sweat? It is rather warm in here, he realizes. How long had he been sitting here? No. Not sweat. He touches his face, fingers cold against his cheeks, and it comes away wet. Tears.

Was he crying? Didn't seem possible. You had to feel something to cry. He was just empty. Hollow. A body with no pilot.

The ice melted. The windows fogging up from the heat.

And that's when he saw it.

Fingerprints.

Fingerprints in the windows. It makes him so fucking mad how Lance does — did — that. Drawing on the windows with his finger when he was bored.

The passenger window displays a rather wonky representation of what Keith assumes is supposed to be a dog.

A smily face looks back at him from the review mirror.

And in front of him, on the windshield is a simple scrawled message:

i ♡ u

Something in him breaks. The pieces as sharp and cutting as his cries as he struggles to breathe around his sobs.

Lance is gone.

Lance, the embodiment of sunshine and life, a representation of everything good in this world, no more.

It wasn't right. It couldn't be.

Nothing would ever be right again.

my whumptober masterlist

[amybizarre]

🎄✨𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓝𝓻. 𝓢𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷✨🎄

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽: Christmas Playlist

𝓐𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮: Rainbow Factory

𝓣𝔂𝓹𝓮: Short Story (Minor Angst? Barely any tbf)

𝓞𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻!

RF grimaced after sipping his cold coffee. It was utterly disgusting, but he would never waste the precious caffeine in it.

(Really he was too lazy to get a new coffee. He'd be dead before he admitted it. What did he have an assistant for?)

Also, he didn't feel like trudging through the dark and empty hallways of the factory right now. First of all he was trying to squeeze in some late night paperwork before he passed out from exhaustion (again). Secondly, there was a menace on the loose.

That menace being (Y/n), his assistant. They insisted to stay in longer today as well. The Christmas spirit had a manic grip on them and they were set on decorating some parts of the factory.

He had allowed it, seeing there was no way to stop them anyway. Under one condition that is: His office and the lab would be spared from their jolly decorating endeavours.

He had hoped this would be a quiet affair and wouldn't interrupt his own work. As per usual his assistant just looooved to prove him wrong:

Suddenly the most obnoxious Christmas music began blairing. THROUGH THE FACTORY'S SPEAKER SYSTEM.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart ~," came it through the speakers.

Walden froze in disbelief. Wh- How?! And most importantly: Whyyyy..??

His eyelid twitched. He really liked his assistant and really wanted to give them the chance to be themself. It would be a shame if they ended up in the Grinder. But if THIS was the music they listened to during the holidays, then his patience with them wouldn't last very long.

Walden pinched the bridge of his (non-existent) nose and took a deep breath. Relaaaax dude... You need your assistant to bring you coffee...!

He tried to drown out the annoying version of 'Jingle Bells' that played next by focusing back on his paperwork.

This worked for maybe three minutes or so, until the nightcore version OF THE SAME F-ING SONG played.

No, not again-! The first time was terrible enough...!

A quiet, tortured groan was heard in Walden's office. (That is a terrible sentence to be taken out of context... I'm so sorry...! XD)

After that song was over it was time for Miss Mariah Carey and "All I want for Christmas"! :D

Walden's biro snapped in half in his metal hand. Okay, enough is enough!

Seconds later the door to his office busted open, making some concerning cracking noises. Walden stood in its frame, towering silhouette intimidating as a shadow covered his face.

Where the fuck were they?

He marched through the factory, patience at an all time zero. His assistant better start running-

He found them in the lobby, happily singing along.

"Oh baby, all I want for Christmas iiisss YOUUU!!!"

"AssisTAAANT...!" Walden quickened his pace as soon as he saw them.

They shrieked in terror and scrambled to get away from him, dropping a few ornaments in the process. In their panicked attempt to get away, their feet got tangled in some garlands and they fell.

Walden wasted no time and caught up to them. He grabbed them by the back of their lab coat and dragged them back onto their feet. His glare was piercing as he sought out eye contact with them.

"Turn. It. Off," he pressed forward between grit teeth.

Suddenly (Y/n)'s fear turned into an amused smirk.

"Why, are you bothered, Mr. Grinch?"

He fought back his seething rage, slightly shaking them. "I said: Turn it off! That's an order!", he barked.

His assistant had the audacity to chuckle. "Gotta let me go first, then. Can't reach the control unit from here."

Walden paused. Almost robotically he let them go. Still giggling, they went to a small side room attached to the lobby. Moments later, the music cut out. Silence. Sweet relief. He felt the tension and anger fall from his shoulders.

(Y/n) carefully peeked out of the small room. "Better now, sir?"

"Much better, thank you," Walden replied tiredly. This small incident had sapped the rest of his energy. Screw the paperwork, he was ready for bed.

(Y/n)'s face softened upon seeing him so tired. They quietly apologized from their spot. He waved it off and turned to leave.

The next morning he found a small apology gift box from his assistant on his desk. In it was a bag of his favorite coffee, some sweets and at the very bottom a CD.

...

With Christmas music on it...

Damnit (Y/n)!

[sunnywalnut]

To anyone who needs to hear this(especially those in online activism):

You're doing the right thing. Read back your messages, your posts, your writing. See if you make sense. If not, ask yourself why.

What about the "hate" comments? What are they saying? Do they actually correlate with your original post? Or are they just sinking their teeth into the topic without having any ground to stand on?

Or are they really hate at all? Are these people misinformed? Getting propaganda? Are they actually right and have facts to back it up? It's never too late to admit that you didn't have the full details, guys. Mistakes happen. Words come out wrong. The real question is, what are you going to do about it?

Is there any way you can lessen the harm that it's caused? Is there any harm caused at all, or is it just people crying wolf to make you feel bad (again. Does it correlate at all with your original post, or are people changing the topic? These are tools people use to manipulate.)?

Remember. Look through all sources of media. Including the "enemy". You might find an ill informed ally instead.

Be safe, take care of yourselves, and drink something non caffeinated today. You deserve it. Or if you can't do that, do something that you enjoy! Life sucks ass sometimes. You're allowed to do what you can to make it suck a little less. You're worth it. I promise.

[chesters-ocs]

LATE NIGHT CRISIS

butcher w the pre wedding jitters. am half asleep btw so thats my excuse

Waking up to a phone call, Sylvester answered groggily, not even seeing the ID without his glasses.

"... Wha..?" He slurs, only to hear the tired laughter of his neighbor

"Hey... Sorry, did I wake you?"

"... Fuck d'ya think? Go back to bed, you're married tomorrow." He murmurs, trying to not wake up his own husband as he sits upright in bed, the blanket pooling in his lap.

Mindlessly, he starts petting Monster, who had made her way over to him when he awoke, seeking affection, which he didn't have the heart to deny.

"No can do... I'm uh... on your porch..?" Butcher offers hesitantly, chuckling at the exasperated groan he heard.

Slowly rising from his feet, he gave the cat one last pet, as he slowly stalked outside the room and shut the door gently.

In a few seconds, the main entrance unlocks, causing Butcher to look up and chuckle, commenting "Someone forgot his glasses."

"Shuddup... Why are ya here?" Sylvester pries, sitting down next to Butcher on the steps leading up to the porch. As always, the larger man had a cigarette between his teeth.

"... Couldn't tell you. Anxiety?" Butcher offers, unconvinced himself.

"What, having second thoughts?"

"... Nah... more like worried he will."

Rolling his eyes, Sylvester stuck a hand out. Wordlessly obeying, Butcher drops a pack and a lighter in the outscretched hand with an amused grin, asking, "Still ain't allowed cigs inside?"

"Unfortunately. He loves his lungs or whatever."

"Typical."

A silence fell between the two smokers. Butcher gazing in the direction of his home, while Sylvester looks straight ahead into the clear skies of the early summer sunrise.

"... If it makes ya feel better.." Sylvester interrupts the silence, continuing when Butcher's eyes land on him, "I was the same. Had to take like... thrice the recommended dose to fall asleep. He still doesn't even know."

Butcher hums at the mental image.

"... But. I'm sure it'll go great. It's your big day. Just... hold it back on the whiskey and smokes, yeah? I told Vik to not say shit, but y'know. Maybe you'll get some good karma points for that... For once in your life."

"Hey! I'm not a totally evil person... Right?" He can't help but double check anyways.

"Nah. Insufferable, yeah. Evil? Never." The older man reassures, tapping the ash off the cigarette.

"... Thanks. Really."

Sylvester nods in response, and watches him stand up and pop his bones, speaking: "I'll... Go make breakfast. And have some caffeine."

"Go do that. I'm going to bed. See you tomorrow, big guy."

Butcher snorts at the nickname, before dropping and stomping out the butt of his vice.

Once making sure Butcher had left, Sylvester slid back under the covers, noting how Stone's arm trapped him there, even in his sleep.

The alarm blares 2 hours later.

[vide0n4sty]

"Too hot for normal coffee." ☕🔪

It's the first thing you say when you walk into the office: air-conditioning cool on your sweaty skin, juggling your lanyard, the office key fob, and a chilly, plastic to-go cup, dripping with condensation, from the coffee place in your building.

The last one you had was free on your rewards card, and now you have to start the cycle all over again. 

You liked the routine, you told yourself, it was a nice way to start the morning and get prepared for work.

Never mind that the coffee place in your building was probably funding a war thousands of miles away. 

You'd cut off the other two 'big brands', as the influencers in million-dollar mansions had told you to do, but had never gotten around to checking if this one aligned with your morals or not.

You couldn't be blamed though, could you?

Your smile is rictus and fake as you plod along through the office, dumpy and out of place, you feel too young, too big, too immature to be in a place like this, the smile of a corpse at a wake, moulded by a mortician to make family and friends feel better about the agony you died in.

Coworkers you've never spoken to nod and smile at you and you feel compelled to do the same. You were well conditioned by the polite society you'd been forced to acclimate to and know if you pass through with your normal, flat expression, people think you're in a bad mood.

You are in a bad mood. You're always in a fucking bad mood.

Your preferred seat is taken when you reach the other side of the office, and it makes your skin itch. 

None of the other seats has your set up, the monitor you like, the laptop stand, the comfortable chair that doesn't cut into your sides, why doesn't anybody FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT-

"Too hot for normal coffee." You explain again, with your rictus smile, when a member of your team waves you over to where the rest of them are sitting.

You had wanted to sit away from them, as you so often did, for the same reason you never took your lunch at the same time as them, but you can’t think of a reason to turn them down this time.

You work for a charity, even though you're (all) funding war in another country. 

Your team are nice, normal women, the kind who start pronoun circles and write 'she/her' in their email signatures (as if there was any fucking doubt), who do sports, arrange book clubs and look for the best food spots around your office.

They believe in the work you're doing.

And it's not like you don't believe in it. 

You're just pretty sure none of them is counting down the hours until you go home and masturbate to fake snuff movies and demented fetish porn, bodies blurred into bundles of plastic and latex and abstraction, so you can forget your own humanity for one fucking second-

You let out a sigh through your teeth and rub your forehead as you sink into the unfamiliar seat, the arms cutting into your fat hips because you’re not sitting in the right chair.

No, no, no, just calm down, you're catastrophising. 

That's what a therapist called it once, before your trial for free online therapy expired. 

Your mind fixated, as it so often did, on one thing and spiralled, round and round, until it became a swirling, black vortex of misery that derailed your entire day and made you contemplate suicide on the train home.

Calm down. Focus.

You go into the office one day a week, get a fucking grip on yourself. 

People would kill to be in your position, and you're not even good enough to feel thankful for it.

Whatever. 

You never claimed to be good, even if you wanted to be, so badly, that it made you sick. That’s why you worked in charity in the first place.

You take a sip of your iced coffee, the condensation making your already sweaty hands even clammier.

You instantly feel settled and you can't help but grimace.

You stopped smoking and didn't drink anymore (interfered with the medication you took in place of a therapist), so caffeine was the only acceptable drug you allowed yourself to depend on.

But who didn't?

"Too hot for normal coffee." You murmured blankly when a coworker asked if you wanted your regular morning coffee.

They know not to expect much of you today.

[cruelprincae]

@lcfthaunted liked the sc for older! Cardan

Although he has never had the patience to dedicate time to study all the progress that humanity has made over the passage of the years, merely content with the fundamental information that is the existence of tremendous skyscrapers, internet, pizza and cars ― all of which being Vivi's input on the few occasions that he has come to visit the apartment herself and Heather inhabit ―, Cardan is quite familiar with the concept of coffee shops, for they have been there on the occasion that he visited the mortal land when he was significantly younger, and he would return the ensorceled mortals to their families and homes, away from his brother's influence.

On the rare occasion when his moth would twinkle its antennas in a silent demand of wanting for something other than the six-pack bottle of beer it was accustomed to, to make the journey back to Elfhame, he would visit one of these shops and he would glamour himself a handful of caffeinated beverages; one for himself, and several for the gigantic moth he would often park behind the establishment, hidden away from prying eyes, which he would then pour inside of a bucket for it to drink from. Even if the taste was foul and did little more other than insult his taste buds, it would appear that the moth quite fancied it, as it took its sweet time devouring all the liquid it could find as well as licking all traces of it from the bucket's walls. The Prince knew little of its use, but what he did know ― most of it being from observing the moth's behaviour, which stood on high alert for days on an end after consuming the caffeinated beverage ― is that, upon its consumption, it offers clarity, focus and liberation from the heavy feelings of tiredness that would occasionally wash over him.

Mab, he can use some clarity right about now, particularly since the heir to his throne thought it would be rather fitting to make himself a prisoner of the now-dispatched Court of Teeth, all to impress its teenage Queen. Cardan is no stranger to rough declarations of affection ― in fact, majority of the romances in his life were of such nature ― and, were the circumstances any different, he would have sat back and allowed the youth to work on their problems; alas, Oak's ill judgement made for a fairly ancient enemy of the Crown to threaten the integrity of both the himself and the Court that he has tried to built for the better part of the decade. Interference is, at this point, inevitable.

Alas, he knows not how to move. Both Jude and his General, Grima Mog, opt for a direct attack against the Court of Teeth in sight of such deliberate disrespect, which would most likely result in the uproar of war ― in fact, it would appear that the majority of his court thirsts for the taste of battle after nearly a decade of tranquillity. And, though Cardan is a pacifist, with battle almost always as a last resort, he knows not how to talk his way out of this predicament. Clarity and ideas are what he beseeches, and hence, the reason why he is seated in a particularly crowded coffee shop, with the chatter of mortals like the irksome buzzing of sprites flying above his head.

❛ I wish for a coffee, ❜ He merely says at the girl that comes forth upon his table and pushes forth a green leaf, glamoured to resemble that of mortal money, with two ring-adorned fingers. Then, there is a moment of a silence as his black hues glance upon the catalogue of delicacies in a considerate frown, and he adds; ❛ I also wish for dumplings. ❜

[prince-rosalium]

hiii can we know the parf gang's favorite drinks?

WONDERFUL!!! THIS IS WHAT I LIKE TO SEE!!!

val- favorite blood type is b+. oberon and tiff both have it.

dash- he used to get a starbucks iced caramel macchiato when he would commute to work every morning so he has sentimental attachment to it.

lu- if you ask him this he will break out a brick of tea leaves probably worth several hundred dollars and he will chop off a nugget with a fancy tea knife and make it in a yixing clay pot, also worth several hundred dollars. the answer changes every time he gets a new tea cake.

saturday- thai tea. just a beautiful icy thai tea.

luci- kid can't have caffeine for shit anymore, if someone invents a drink that allows him to have his sweet, gross monster energy flavor again but decaf that will be the drink

kenny- chocolate milk. a concoction that amazes him. a wondrous combination, chocolate and milk.

toulouse- she can never answer this. she lives in new york city and she is surrounded by boba shops that are constantly getting new toppings and following new trends. anything she orders is Fucking Weird though, like toppings upon toppings upon toppings, wildly clashing flavors. the boba shop is just like. her ordering a minimum wage worker to make the most monstrous concoction for her entertainment. but she tips well and they have fun!

tiff- honeydew boba tea with lychee jelly. this is admittedly my husband's favorite, but it seemed in character for her

oberon- oh he is a fucking slurpee guy. slushies and slurpies. chews on cold, horrible ice cubes. he likes the way it makes his teeth feel.

betty- shirley temple. why do u think her hair looks like that. she drank too much!!!

donna- i think she's into fancy wines but her guilty pleasure is just a strawberry daquiri

[just-another-songbirdy]

I Hope You Thought of Me Today

for the ones who saw me as the smoke and forgot to ask about the fire.

I hope I brushed the back of your memory today

like a draft through a sealed-off hallway—

somewhere behind the family photos

you framed too neatly

to ever admit they were cracked underneath.

Maybe I slipped in sideways

between your errands and your caffeine crash.

Maybe I was the thing you didn’t quite remember

but couldn’t quite ignore,

like the echo of a fight

you swore you were right in.

Maybe your teeth clenched for no reason.

Maybe you sighed and didn’t know why.

Maybe it wasn’t guilt—

maybe it was recognition,

the body’s way of saying,

“you’re not the hero in every story you tell.”

Because I know how you painted me.

In shades of wildfire and warning signs,

in whispers that wore choir robes,

in half-truths that sat holy in pews

while the whole truth cried outside in the car.

You gave me the role of the ruin,

called me the smoke,

the serpent,

the scarlet-lettered girl

with too much mouth and too many questions.

But I wasn’t fire.

I was a match you struck

when the room got too dark.

I didn’t ruin the house.

I just refused to be the wallpaper

holding it together.

⸻

I hope you thought of me

when the song came on—

you know the one—

the one I said felt like running barefoot

through childhood

before we learned

who was allowed to speak

and who had to nod politely

while swallowing thunder.

I hope your hands twitched

like they wanted to reach back

but couldn’t remember how.

⸻

Maybe it was today you realized

I didn’t leave.

You did.

Not with your feet,

but with your silence.

You backed out of the room slowly,

like my love was a crime scene

you didn’t want fingerprints on.

You left me to mop up

the broken glass of our shared mythology.

You went back to your script,

rewrote the ending,

turned me into the villain

because the mirror

was too honest to forgive.

You chose comfort

over clarity.

Tradition over truth.

Clean narratives

over complicated people.

⸻

But I wasn’t complication.

I was contrast.

I was the shadow that proved

your light was real.

I was the voice in the room

that didn’t harmonize

because I knew too well

what it felt like

to sing a lie beautifully.

⸻

I hope you thought of me

when your child asked a question

you didn’t know how to answer.

Maybe they saw someone

living loudly

and loving fully

and asked,

“Why does she make you uncomfortable?”

And maybe—just maybe—

you didn’t have the words

to tell them that you feared me

because I stopped fearing you.

That I became dangerous

not by being evil,

but by being free.

⸻

I hope I showed up

in the ache behind your eyes

when the room got quiet.

When the church let out.

When the praise songs ended.

When you were left

with your hands and your heart

and no more smoke to blame.

I hope I showed up in that stillness

like an old bruise that finally bloomed.

Because I loved you.

All of you.

More than I should’ve.

Harder than was safe.

Longer than was wise.

I held you like a secret.

Tucked you in with words I wasn’t allowed to speak.

I learned your shape in the dark

because daylight wasn’t safe

for girls like me

in families like ours.

⸻

I hope you remembered

how I wept quietly

in the corners of rooms

you swore were built on love

but echoed like judgment halls.

I hope you remembered

that I wore your shame

like a hand-me-down dress

that never quite fit

but I smiled in it anyway.

Because I wanted you

to be proud of me.

Even when I couldn’t breathe.

⸻

You told the story of me

in broken grammar—

fragments and slander,

but never the full sentence.

Never the paragraph

where I bled kindness

and begged the silence

to let me belong.

You forgot to mention

I was the one still showing up

after the pews emptied,

after the gossip cooled.

That I was the one

cleaning up the spilled communion juice

while you whispered in the parking lot.

⸻

I hope you thought of me

when you said grace over your food

and remembered

I was the one who fasted

to feel worthy.

I hope you thought of me

when the wind blew just right—

how it carried my laughter

back to you

wrapped in all the things

you never took the time to understand.

⸻

I hope your dreams

cracked a little at the seams tonight.

Not from regret,

but from realization.

That maybe the one you cast out

wasn’t the wolf,

but the lamb

who grew teeth

after too many bites went unpunished.

⸻

I am not your scapegoat.

I am not your soft landing.

I am not the ghost

of your convenience.

I am not the sin

you toss in prayer baskets

and pretend you never danced with.

⸻

I hope you thought of me

like a long-lost word

that suddenly mattered.

Like a map

you folded wrong

but now need to find your way.

Because I thought of you.

And I am not angry.

I am ancient.

I am soil and salt and spark.

I am the echo of what could have been

if love had not been weaponized.

⸻

I don’t need you to say you’re sorry.

I don’t need you to see me now.

But I hope, for one small moment,

you felt the ache

of everything you missed

when you chose

to believe

your story was the only one

that mattered.

And I hope it broke you open

just enough

to let some truth

finally bloom

inside the hollow parts

you keep calling

righteousness.

⸻

Because I’ve done the work

you said I couldn’t.

Dug through the rubble

of your assumptions,

pulled the sharp from my name,

stitched light into my own damn spine.

I’ve rebuilt from the marrow

of what you tried to strip.

I’ve found new mouths

that speak in love,

not leverage.

I’ve tasted freedom,

and it is not sweet—

it is earned.

And it is mine.

⸻

So no,

I won’t shrink to fit

your memory.

I won’t soften the edges

to make myself easier

to misremember.

I am sharp.

I am soft.

I am storm and shelter.

I am the hymn that cracked your stained glass

when you tried to keep God inside a cage.

And I hope you thought of me today.

Because I thought of you—

with the strange ache

of someone

who has loved deeply

and left quietly.

With the grace

of someone

who knows

they were never the monster—

just the mirror

you were too afraid

to keep looking into.

[thisiswhathappenswhenimbored]

before you love someone, love yourself first.

This time last year, what was happening in your life? i was settling into life in japan & boy do i miss it there. Did you/will you have coffee or some other form of caffeine today? i went to starbucks this morning.

Who did you last have a text conversation with and what was it about? my best friend commenting on how her ex-husband is on vacation with his new wife for like the 50th time this year.

Are there regular trains in and out of your town/city? i live on an island, like i can get to the other side of the island in about an hour, we don't have trains here.

Do you bathe your pets regularly? when they live with me yeah.

Do you have a mailbox or do you collect your mail from the post office? there's a mailbox right down the street.

What was the last animal you saw, and was it a pet? a chicken or a rooster, i'm positive of that. no they aren't pets. there's feral chickens/roosters all over the place here.

Have you ever had an ear infection? yes, getting them as an adult is even worse.

If you could watch any TV series right now, what would it be? i really really love watching roswell. don't know why i just do.

Would you have any clue when your best friend last got their hair cut? a few weeks ago.

Someone messages you just as you’re about to go to sleep. Do you reply? if it's my husband, absolutely, yes, i like to annoy him.

Do you grind your teeth, and if so, why do you do it? no.

Have you ever been hospitalized due to dehydration? when i was pregnant yeah.

Is there anything you need to remember to do before the day ends? no? i don't think so. i have a lot i need to remember to do tomorrow though.

When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? i absolutely blast it, i want to go deaf. i hate being able to hear noise around me when i'm listening to stuff with headphones/ear buds.

What’s your favorite online radio site? i don't really use online radios? i mean unless you count youtube music.

Do your parents have any authority over who you date? absolutely did not have any authority. fuck my dad, he can def kick rocks. my mom never tried to tell me not to date someone. although i'm married now & she tells my husband every year there's no returns allowed.

How many different shades of nail polish do you have? probably like two, i had to throw a bunch of them away when we moved.

What did you have for breakfast this morning? a latte from starbucks. lol. i'm really bad at remembering to eat most of the time

Are you lucky enough to have an ice maker in your refrigerator door? i mean the house i pay an exorbitant amount of money for includes a fridge with an ice maker in it.

Are you the type to wake up before the sun has even risen? i do everyday, sucks having kids that i have to get ready for school.

Have you ever watched an anime series, start to finish? yes.

Do you feel the need to rant about anything right now? If so, go for it. i have plenty of things i could rant about but i won't right now until i get my thoughts together.

Do you have a favorite towel? What color is it? no.

Have you seen any films with Judy Garland in them? yes i have.

How did you feel when you woke up today? Why? exhausted. my husband is gone for work right now & i always sleep like crap when he isn't here, unless i have my dog with me but my dog is on the other side of the country from me.

Who was the last person you messaged on Facebook? my group chat with my friends about the pet shipper i found that said they can get me a quote for an in cabin flight for my dog with a flight nanny. gonna cost a fortune probably but i'm so excited for him to get here.

When was the last time you saw them? uhhhhh, my best friend i saw a year ago the rest of my friends it was a little over a year ago.

Do you have a friend named Nick? What’s his favourite food? my brother's name is nick, he lives on monsters. that's all i know about him.

What are you listening to? let us prey, a docuseries on hbo about ifb churches.

What year are you/did you graduate? i graduated from high school in 2008. i've been working on & putting my BA on hold while we've been bouncing around though.

Are you obsessed with anything? uhhhhhhh, i'm not sure.

Do you prefer waffles or pancakes? waffles.

Do you prefer non-diet or diet soda? non-diet.

Do you like seafood? i never used to then i lived in japan & now hawaii.

Are you craving anything right now? i don't think so.

Do you dress appropriately for your age? yessss, my husband gets mad because he says i normally dress like an old lady but i shouldn't because i'm only 33.

If McDonald’s sold hot dogs, would you buy them? no, i don't even really eat mcdonalds.

How long is your hair? middle of my back, i think.

Do you like your neighbors? i don't know my neighbors.

What’s your school motto? i have no clue.

Has a bird ever flown into your window? yesterday.

Which word did you say first, mama or dada? i don't know, i don't think my parents would know either if i asked them.

How old were you when you learned to walk? young, before one.

What was your first pet’s name? max.

How many kids were in your class in kindergarten? 20?

Who was your best friend in elementary? constance.

Who was the best athlete in your freshman class? pfftttt. uhhhh, i think it was def ej manuel.

What teacher did all the high school boys/girls have a crush on? def mr. larue, he was a little creepy though.

Where do you see yourself in a year? in hawaii still. probably going to school since i quit my job.

If you were able to change one thing about yourself, what would it be? i'm not sure. i kinda like myself like this.

Are you content just blending in with the crowd? yeah, sometimes.

[chapel-of-rizztual]

Ghouls Headcanons 4

dew once drank gasoline and kept coughing flames to scare the shit out of copia. He scare the shit out of everyone and almost burnt have the ministry down. Sunny tried to use him as a flame thrower.

There a hole in the wall in the common room from where Swiss fell through while he was drunk. They told sister it’s been patched up. They are filthy liars.

All ghouls watch and love baby sensory videos. It’s one of the only ways to keep them calm and quiet. It’s also one of the only ways to keep them distracted. The dancing fruit one works the best.

Sunshine bought a motorcycle with the ministry credit card. She got in a lot of trouble with sister because of it. She blamed it on copia. She also bought aether one so they can go on joyrides together.

Mountain eats rocks. Will just straight up pick rocks up off the ground and crunch down on them. He says he like the crunch. He’s not allowed to have crystals anymore because they’re like candy to him. Don’t ask him about the teeth marks in the granite work surfaces in the kitchen, it wasn’t him.

Aether needs glasses to read. All of the other ghouls find it incredibly attractive.

Sunshine, Swiss and dew are known as the terror triple around the ministry. They are not allowed to be left unsupervised together. They are banned from using cleaning supplies because they tired to make mustard gas. They peed in the gas tanks of all cars that the ministry own. They tried to make a bomb in a toilet. Not a big one they just thought it would be funny if the all water systems were broken at the same time. Thankfully they were unsuccessful.

Birds, rabbits and deer and the number 1 distraction to ghouls (apart from themselves).

They will stand at any window, staring intently at the small creatures, ears high, tails swishing and pupils blown wide while chittering and chirping to each other while

Swiss can’t be trusted with laundry detergent. He drinks it like it’s a smoothie.

Ghouls can’t dream. Something about them not having souls makes them unable to.

Mountain has terrible posture from having to duck down through doorways and lean down to talk to people. Cirrus always rubs his back for him to help.

Cumulus makes the best tiramisu ever. She’s famous for it around the ministry.

Special lives in the basement of the ministry and is the biggest gossip ever. If he’s bored he’ll make something just to see the drama unfold.

Nobody knows but cowbell lives in the basement with special. Everyone thinks he got sent back to the pits.

Aether has never sat through a full movie. He always falls asleep about halfway through. Especially if he’s in the middle of a cuddle pile.

Dew walks around with his hand in someone else’s pocket. Jean pocket, coat pocket, shirt pocket, front or back it doesn’t matter to him he’s wiggling his hand in there.

Rains favourite tv show is friends. He’s had it on repeat since he was summoned. His favourite character is joey because he reminds him of Swiss.

Ghouls have their own language that only ghouls understand. They only speak it around each other in private. They prefer to speak their papas native tongue or English around anyone else.

Rain and mountain watch my neighbour totoro together every Friday night without fail. Sometimes cirrus and cumulus join them.

Aether likes to eat bath bombs. He likes the way they fizz on his tongue. He’s gotten banned from every lush store he’s been in.

Cirrus drinks perfume. She says it smells nice so why would it taste bad. She’s surprised every time when it’s awful.

None of the ghouls can handle caffeine.

When dew was first summoned he was terrified of snow.

All of the ghouls are incredible at Mario cart. Especially cumulus and rain. They fight for first place all the time. Swiss is undefeated at just dance.

Dew and rain completely switch personalities when they’re off stage.

Cumulus does a face mask almost every night and dew and Swiss try to lick it off her every time without fail.

All ghouls are banned from playing among us. No explanation needed you already why.

[adoiescents]

Can you believe

Void Stiles x Reader | © adoiescent 2022. reposting or translating is not allowed.

The plan had been simple. Do not, under any circumstances, show a break in the system, in our power.

For you, this has meant to leave the house earlier than needed, for a walk dedicated to caffeine. You’d have your bag, umbrella and purse accessorizing it. The weather would differentiate from rain to sun to cloudy dimmer. There’d be a skip in your walk, a need for quicker movement, for more speed. But why, they’d ask. You’d answer, never with a frown of uncertainty, with a tumble of unsteadiness. Instead, it’d be a laugh of habit, to bury the clear lack of safety trailing along side you.

Scott, so loving and kind, made sure to check anyway. He had searched for an intruder of human kind, of digital threat or supernatural games. But he was unsuccessful, and so, so sorry for you. But of course, the chitter of your lip was gone in an instant, replaced with all but a smile. That is, if it had looked anything alike.

The walk you’d fear now more than ever, consumed and overthrew your rational and human scare of the supernatural. Scott, despite his friendly demeanor, had a bite for kill, eyes for hunt and claws for prey. Allison, an arrow for your heart. Isaac, teeth for your throat. And Lydia, a scream for your head.

You and Stiles were paper thin, easily crushed underneath.

Perhaps that’d been enough of a reason for trust, for vulnerability.

Late into night, for stars and moon to stand higher than all, alarmed a melody for attention and awake. You had sat on your bed, fingernails crushed by your teeth, as the line build up longer and longer, with no telling whether it was ignorance or sleep hindering the awaiting conversation. All windows and roller blinds shut and secured, so nothing was to be seen.

After the second attempt, it had felt silly to you, calling someone who had clearly no time in their life, for an unnervingly spooked teenager.

But, all noise and line stopped, and a deep clear sound sucked you in. For was he awake, or finally annoyed, and had hung up on you, or he’d accepted a camouflaged scream for guidance and safety.

“Hello?” The voice had panted.

“Stiles?” Your voice asked. For security it was really him, or if he’d not read your name, you weren’t sure.

But there was a pause, long and suffocating.

“What do you need?”

That had been your first abandonment of the plan, your first move in a game of chess against an faceless opponent. A mask with a plan, them, unknown, but you, the one to lose. But of course, the downfall had felt like a victory blanket, wrapping you in it’s safe and warm arms. In this case however, it was the coffee sitting in your lap and hands, and the temperature in the jeep older than time.

The seats were comfortable enough to sink into, to lose time and space in the blur of the world. Here, where succumbing to the gentle flows of music would be heaven, you could relax. Stiles had settled for empty words, silent communication. You had brought him a coffee too, yet to be tasted and complained about, even if it was his favorite taste, his favorite drink. He had yet to drink. For now however, the rain drew around you and left you for a rest. The danger be dammed, if sleep could not calm you.

Eyes still painfully open, you sought out the plan of yesterday and tomorrow. Something was happening, to not only you, but Stiles, Allison and Scott. You hadn’t given your soul for your parent, for he was save and sound while theirs were in deadly panic. However, you seemed to have caught a second shadow, lingering in the fearful beyond of your understanding. No trace was ever left, only the little things with no meaning other than dread.

Your room was not the cleanest, but every change made was noticeable. What was yours, was not to be moved without your notice. Your father was quite the cleaner, so every time an item disappeared, your first question would be directed to him. He always had an answer. Well, until now.

You had a camera since your mother had passed, determinant to capture every moment with importance. Once gray would braid into your hair, you would sit with a book, full of memories and moments. You would have a museum of adolescence and childhood, many old and new faces joining along the way. At some point, it would probably get lonelier, but colorful doodles would erase any traces of sadness. One section however, would be missing in the book, set aflame by a teenage you.

The set of photographs that returned with the camera.

After the camera had been removed, and wasn’t found by your all knowing father either, you could only feel restless. Every memory that clung to that collector was a bad one, ruined by blood and death. Canines and corpses were disturbed by it first, a follow on threat from Derek too, as he would sooner or later destroy that camera. He hadn’t, and back then, you were immensely grateful for it. It was the last present from your mother, an item without price. But as the days turned more violent, so did the people.

Matt had been a friend of yours, for he shared the same passion as you had. Only had he used his camera for much more disturbing purposes. Not only the murderous ones, but the stalker and creepy pictures. He hadn’t had any of you, only the ones taken with your knowledge and consent. It was still a fright to see how wrong you can deceive someone as, and how easy it is to pretend you’re someone you’re not. It made you question if all of the moments with him were a façade, or if that was actually him, under all the hatred and rage. Whatever it was, it had been destroyed as soon as a weapon was held parallel to you, shaking from a murderous rage not even you would be spared of.

A set of photographs, five to exact, appeared only this week, along with your camera. Nothing was damaged, but it was clear it had been used by someone with no knowledge of cameras. What they did know however, is how to remove fingerprints. You had asked Stiles to give the stolen item to his father, if he could find something to identify the person who had, not only access to your house, but also was able to put it in place without you noticing. Whenever you weren’t at home, your father was, and having someone hurt your father wasn’t a risk you wanted to take. The sheriff had found nothing, but also suggested to stay with his son.

The photos were taken from outside, always the same position and time. At the front of your house, late into the evening. You could see your room, all open, for the roller blinds were closed in fear of the unknown. One however, was a picture of your front door, seemingly at day. There was no shadow to see, nor any clothing or a hand. Nothing! But worst of all, it was accompanied by a little note on the bottom of the photograph.

Don’t feel too safe.

The person was trying their hardest to write in a way that made it seem like that was their actual handwriting. It looked neat, too neat. The e’s were clearly the odd ones out, for they looked messy and awkward in comparison to the other letters. So whoever wrote the note, and by default also took the photos, was changing their handwriting.

Did she know that person’s handwriting if they tried to conceal it, or was it an attempt to confuse her?

“We’re here.”

And so would be the nightmare to your fright.

They were getting closer, the steps a mere second away from putting their hands on you. You could feel their eyes, the malice in their words. You hadn’t felt safe, even when everyone tried to convince you otherwise. While eating dinner with Scott and his lovely mother was absolutely amazing, the comfort couldn’t reach for your own house. Your room was lonely and dark, the shadows lingering even with the light. You hadn’t want to, yet you still found yourself at the Stilinski’s doorstep.

You rang the bell, pulling closer the jacket meant for rain, not cold. The sun was long gone, accompanying you for your walk, and then taking its own way. The moment was frozen for a second, before the door swung open, and Stiles came to be in your sight, with visible excitement until his eyes fell on you, deflating.

“You’re not the pizza I didn’t order but still kinda wanted.”

“Sad, I know. Now, could you find it in your heart to let me in?”

He sighed before answering dramatically. “If I must.”

He stepped back into his house, the door open for you to follow. You stepped in, the warmth tingling on your cold skin. Your took off your shoes, before closing the door and following Stiles. He was in the kitchen, preparing something. His head turned, his eyes focused on you. “You can already go in the living room.”

You nodded, before leaving for the said room.

It was cozy, with vanilla and spiced candles lit. There were heavy blankets, pillows softer than a dream. The movie that was playing called for your attention, the characters familiar to you, no thanks to Stiles. Star Wars was playing, and you smiled at the scene playing in front of you. A young Anakin Skywalker, telling his love of his hatred for sand. It was a rather amusing scene, for all the wrong reasons. But you felt more happy with a rambling Anakin, than to see him lose everything he cherished. Darth Vader was iconic, no question, but the pain he endured to be him, wasn’t worth it.

You turned your head once Stiles walked in with one mug in his hand, probably for you, as there was already a Star Wars themed one occupying the table. Once he sat next to you, he handed you the warm mug, a blue one with stars and the moon on it. “It’s hot chocolate.” You looked at him, saw him take a sip of his own hot chocolate. You nodded, blew away the steam, and took a sip. It was warm, sweet but the perfect amount. It danced on your tongue, neither burned or froze it, and you had to ask him how he made it later. It warmed your hands.

You could get used to this. You took another sip, sat in peace with Stiles and watched Anakin and Padme. How wrong you were to wish for things that would never be yours, you would have to see.

Stiles took the mug from you, before you could drink even more. “Stiles, what-“ But continuing to speak felt impossible with a tongue so heavy, and a throat so dry. Each of your muscles felt sleepy, your eyes drowsy and weak. The pull to close them was strong, and felt so good to give into. Your limbs felt weightless and a thousand pounds, one simple touch enough to make you collapse. And god, was it easy for him to make you helpless.

Your head fell first, a soft cushion taking most of your fall. You couldn’t move, couldn’t look or speak. Everything felt hazy, your fingers so heavy and hard to move. Nothing was in your control anymore, nothing was for you to do. You were trapped in your own body, until your ears shut down too, and you were all but well. It was easy to pinpoint where you had fallen, the bones easy to feel. Your head was placed upon his knees, the rest of your body still where you had sat before control was whisked away from you.

If one were to see the scene, they would think nothing of malice. Just two people watching a movie, while one of them fell asleep. And with Stiles, this wouldn’t have bothered you, had he not drugged you. There was a question of why the fuck he would do that. Why he would be like this, but finding the answer felt far too away. Reaching for an answer felt difficult, and you just didn’t have the energy to think anymore.

The man above you was grinning, like stars just fell upon him. His hand fell into your hair, massaging your scalp as if you weren’t laying passed out in his lap. It had been so incredibly easy to get you in this position, to get your trust. It was even easier to pretend to be someone he was not. You believed him, and everyone else still did. And with you now exposed to his not very in character actions, he would need to make you act under his rule.

Luckily for him, he got whatever he wanted. Always.

[sugamamacustard]

Back me up

Pairing: Alpha! Kotaro Bokuto x Omega! Reader, Alpha Wakatoshi Ushijima x Omega! Reader

Genre: Tiny itty-bitty angst, domestic fluff!

Request: Hello! So I found your blog and I was contemplating wether to send in a request cuz im shy hehe Can you please write about an omega!pregnant reader and Alpha! Bokuto or Alpha! Ushijima (whoever you're more comfortable writing for) getting overprotective after something happens to their omega?

Summary: Pregnancy can bring out both the best, and worst, in any and all alphas, and yours is no exception. Life, however, is unpredictable in every sense and sometimes, the worst and best parts get melded into one-- and make you fall in love with your alpha all over again. 

Author’s Note: Domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff domestic fluff- If you saw something earlier, no you didn’t :D

Requests: Open!

Kotaro Bokuto

➵ There were few things you hated about your pregnancy. 

➵ Honestly, at this point, it wasn’t even that bad for you! Minimized morning sickness, your boobs were rarely ever sore and you had one of the most amazing alpha by your side.

➵ Kotaro was just as excited about your pup on the way, making the whole experience so much more pleasant. He constantly chirped about your up coming family to his team, made sure he read every book he found on the subject of pregnancy and child care.

➵Honestly, perfect husband material.

➵ 10000/10

➵  There were times when he sometimes was overbearing, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

➵It was adorable and made you purr. 

➵ This faithful day you were both at the store, starting prep on stocking up for, not only the new nursery you were planning, but the intense nesting you were sure to go through further into your pregnancy. 

➵  You were at the point in your second trimester you had just enough of a bump to look pregnant and sometimes it attracted the weirdest people. 

➵ Humming, you walked down the aisle filled with gym supplements and pre-workout powder, keeping your eye open for the one your alpha preferred, quickly grabbing the largest tub and heaving it into the cart before moving on.

➵That was obviously your first mistake, as you were quickly stopped when you tried walking away. 

➵ “Pregnant woman aren’t allowed to have that. It’s bad for the baby.” A woman sneered at you, hand on her hip, glasses resting on her head as she glared at your belly than you.

➵ “Oh, it’s fine, it’s-” 

➵ “Fine? You’re fine with killing your pup?!” She snapped, teeth bared as you stared at her incredulously. “Someone like you shouldn’t be allowed to have pups.”

➵ “Ma’am, it’s not for me-”

➵” So your killing other people’s pups?” 

➵ You wanted to rip your hair out at this point. It was like you were talking to a brick wall.

➵ Taking a deep breath, you figured this wasn’t worth the argument, taking your cart and moving on.

➵ The woman’s alpha however, wasn’t having it. He appeared from behind her, grabbing the front of your cart and stopping it from turning. 

➵ He yanks it forward, making you stagger, before pushing it back and out of your hands, sending you tumbling. 

➵ You chirped as you braced yourself, arms wrapping around your middle, cradling your bump

➵ You didn’t fall too far, falling into a firm chest. You nearly chirped again, but relaxed when your alpha’s familiar scent clouded around you. It was strong and heavy and meant to assert dominance.

“Is there a problem here?”  Kotaro was never really an aggressive alpha, though he had the stature to do so. He was big, bulky and scary when angry. These were all things that you adored about him. That while he had all of these attributions, he instead was a bright and cheerful teddy bear. 

But he still had them nonetheless. He was still big. Still bulky. Still scary when angry. And right now, he was livid. 

“This sorry excuse of an omega is trying to kill her child-” The woman began, stopping when she stepped forward only for Kotaro to snarl at her. 

“I’m sorry, what? I’m pretty sure my omega was trying to explain that is wasn’t for her. In case you haven’t noticed, it was for me. Now piss off. I’m not scared to show you why I need that protein.” 

The duo looked to each other before stomping off, grumbling all the while. You could feel an arm snake around your waist, Kotaro snorting before grabbing the cart and spinning it around and leading you in the direction of the cashiers. 

“Am I getting out of cuddles any point in the near future?” 

“Not likely.” 

“That’s fair.” 

Wakatoshi Ushijima

➵ Oh boy, oh boy

➵ Wakatoshi is intimidating as it, nonetheless when your pregnant.

➵When his and your pup is on the line.

➵ He is ruthless and mean if someone dares look at you wrong.

➵ Honestly, also great dad. 

➵ Like 9999/10

➵ He’s a little brash and kind of forgets about you when fighting someone for a minute

➵ But I swear he makes it up you later

➵ You honestly love him so much, even if he can be brunt and brash sometimes.

➵ Your doctor okay’d minimal coffee for you after you passed your danger mark, making you understandably excited. 

➵ Wakatoshi, though hesitant, gave you some suggestions about drinks he would pick up when he was supposed to stay low on caffeine. 

➵ Your name was called and you went to grab your drink (A half-caf. macchiato) only to frown when a hand was faster than yours.

➵ “Pregnant woman aren’t allowed coffee.” A man sneered, dumping the full coffee into the nearby trashcan.

➵ You internally whined at the lose before glaring at the man, the barista already making you a new drink as well as the one you ordered for Toshi.

➵ Was this alpha trying to mansplain pregnancy...to a pregnant lady?

➵ The man was yammering on and on about, fake, side effects. 

➵ It took ten whole minutes for you to get him off your back as a pair of kind beta women came up behind you, pretending to know you and taking the drink and leading you out the door.

➵ They handed the drinks back to you when you were out the door before waving you off, letting you make the small trek back to your home.

“Holy hell, ‘Toshi. The audacity of some people.” You huffed, setting down his drink before sitting beside him. He rose a brow, quickly pulling you in with a hand resting on your swollen baby bump. 

“What do you mean, love?” 

You huffed, sipping your drink while pulling your legs in. “This man tried explaining what I can and cannot have in my pregnancy. Like, he was acting like I didn’t know. He threw out my first drink and some betas had to come help!”

The grip around you tightened, making you look up at your alpha. His eyes were stone and cold, making you question whether or not telling him was a good idea. He huffed before settling himself, picking you up with one arm and a scooping motion and his cup in his other hand, he carried you to your bedroom, gently placing you in your nest and the cups on the bedside table, you watched Wakatoshi move quickly around the room. He pulled off his sweater, pulling on a t-shirt, replaced his jeans with sweats, and even grabbed your pregnancy pillow, scenting it before handing it and the sweater to you. You took them gratefully, setting them down while Wakatoshi crawled in beside you, pulling you down with him. 

“Next time, I’m going with you.”  

You laughed. “Whatever makes you feel better, ‘Toshi.” 

His warm hand on your stomach lulled you, and your pup, to a sweet rest. 

[teenageheartthrob]

An Unconventional Guide to Happiness- Part 2 (Platonic Avengers x Reader, Loki x Reader)

Series Summary: The trials and tribulations of Y/N L/N in the life of a hero, with a super family.

Chapter Summary: A morning coffee turns into an unfortunate encounter, and Loki is not about to leave you in the middle of it.

Category: Angst, fluff

Ship: Loki Laufeyson x reader (eventual), Avengers x reader (platonic)

Trigger Warnings: Violence, swearing, mentions of alcohol, homophobic language.

Word Count: 1.4k

------------

The morning itself was not inherently awful, even if it was a Monday. Knowing you had no training that morning and no missions scheduled, you allowed yourself to sleep in. It was, as far as you were concerned, one of the many luxuries of the modern world. 

Thankfully, you were out of bed, showered and dressed, when your favourite God (don’t tell Thor) had come bounding through your door at 11am.

Noticing that while vertical, you were barely awake, he had suggested a morning coffee at a local cafe. 

Your heart throbbed tenderly for a moment as you thought of the dark haired man waiting for you to arise. He never slept much, his divinity allowing him to live without such things. If Loki was not awake any time after 8 am, he was likely comatose.  

You had agreed to his caffeine proposal for several reasons. 

Firstly, any time spent with Loki was time you treasured. Secondly, you found it assuming to watch civilians try and pick where they knew the God from, his black suit causing him to stand out a little against the sea of casual clothes. Thirdly, you really needed that coffee. 

As much as Loki was constantly recognised, only one in a hundred people recognised you, thanks to your lurking in the shadows. Besides, if any photos of you had surfaced that you were uncomfortable with, whether you were in the field or otherwise, Tony would have dealt with it immediately. 

Coffee ordered, and Loki having to tend to a few fan girls, you found yourself alone with your thoughts. At least temporarily.

Something felt odd.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it but the buzzing in your skin and hairs standing on end made it painfully obvious that your senses were alight, in overdrive. 

As such, you noticed the man who had previously stood across the room coming closer.

Although you’d only seen him from the corner of your eye, something about him made your stomach flip. Normally you wouldn’t have taken any notice of someone like that, but your powers had activated your ‘spidey-senses.’

Andrew Kingston wasn’t a small person by any means. He was burly, with shoulders that would rival Thor’s and a neat appearance, in a lumberjack sort of way. To be frank, he looked like your average douchebag. 

A quick survey of your surroundings, a habit perfected from years of training and torment, allowed you to view the flash of white that was Loki’s forced smile. You knew the difference between the God’s false persona and his real one, you were his best friend for gods sake. 

A laser like focus burned a searing hole into the side of your head. It made you itchy, made you want to scrub and scratch at the skin until it was gone, new flesh replacing the offence. 

You silently wished you had of simply stayed in bed. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here?” Kingston’s voice matched him perfectly, you thought. Cold and steely, a stark contrast to Loki’s warm, silver tongue charm. 

You grit your teeth and tried desperately tried to stop your blood from boiling. You looked to Loki, your eyes conveying your pleas for him to break the promise you shared- you wouldn’t read his emotions if he didn’t read your thoughts.

“What do you hang out with that fag for anyway?” The man beside you scoffed. You could feel his eye roll. 

His hot breath swirled in the air around your face, burning your nose. The stench of alcohol on him was painfully evident. 

Eyes still on Loki, you spat softly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“You’re forgiven,” the soon-to-be-deceased man smirked, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “but I said, why do you hang out with that faggot?”

For quite literally a second, the God’s eyes finally locked with yours, as a blonde haired woman pulled at his suit jacket, staring at him like he was the answer to all her problems. 

Your heart thumped loudly in your chest as you tried to project your thoughts loud enough for Loki to hear your anger, your distress, your uncontrollable rage. 

Fuck it. 

“That’s what I thought you said.”

Launching yourself towards the unsuspecting Andy Kingston, you decided you would worry about consequences later. 

No one in any universe was going to get away with the stunt he had just pulled. No one insulted your family, and you were sure as shit, not going to sit by while the homophobic scumbag dared to speak to you like that. 

“Y/N!” 

Before you could land even a single punch, Loki stepped in between you and Andy. Flying from his place across the room, you felt yourself being pushed outside the cafe, your best friend engaging the lock from the inside as he looked up at you with eyes full of searing wrath, calmed only by your safety. 

Employees ushered patrons behind the counters, into bathrooms, anywhere they would not be harmed by the fight. 

If you thought Tony was going to be mad, you were certainly in for it with Nick Fury. You realised how bad this could be, with SHIELD prohibiting the Avengers from using their powers outside of missions or the compound. 

Kingston waited as a stupid, smug smile beamed across his face, revealing stained teeth and bleeding gums. When you realised what he was about to do, you screamed so hard you thought the glass might break, and in an attempt to make that outcome reality, your fists pounded on the cafe door, willing for Loki to notice what was about to occur. 

He winked at you as if to say ‘I’ve got this,’ and turned around, which was what you were afraid of. 

The sickening sound of flesh colliding rang through your already burning ears as Andy’s fist met Loki’s cheek. A perfect hook. 

A crowd began to gather on the street outside as you continued to scream, being forced to watch the struggle. 

You couldn’t break the doors, in the middle of New York, glass tended to be thicker to accomodate for the growing crime rate. Selfishly, you cursed that in the moment. 

One particular woman’s cry of shock at the scene alerted you to the railing that lay broken, outlining the base of a nearby tree on the sidewalk. 

It was the only option you had. You needed to get in there. 

You could quite honestly say that you didn’t recall screaming at the crowd to move, but bystanders would later testify in interviews that your cries were truly haunting. 

You forced the metal spike through the pane of glass. With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you scrambled into the cafe, tearing away at the glass shards with your bare hands.

Within a matter of seconds, you were charging towards the pair who had torn the cafe apart. Tables lay sideways and chairs were strewn around the outside of the room. Seeing no civilians directly in harms way, you began to asses the situation properly. 

Andy, the bastard, had Loki pinned to the tiled floor, one of his enormous hands wrapped tightly around his throat. The God knew he couldn’t use his powers, but he also didn’t know how much oxygen was left in his lungs. 

He couldn’t let this be the end, he had so much left to do. So many things left to tell you…

His legs were wrapped around the douche’s neck, squeezing with as much force as he could muster. 

You were glad that he’d put on some more weight recently, or else he would have been squashed under Andy’s boot in a minute. 

Despite his muscles, he still possessed a lanky frame, and was nothing compared to the man above him, who was easily double his mass. You stepped closer, and Loki’s voice ran through your mind. 

“Get back, go. Please, run…” even his conscience sounded deprived of air. 

He wouldn’t let you intervene, he decided. Even if you tried to, he would fight as hard as he had to in order to protect you. He didn’t care how many hits he had to take, you would be kept safe. 

Kingston’s distorted nose allowed blood to flow freely onto Loki’s face, only worsening his struggle for breath. In an attempt to gain the upper hand, the larger man wrapped his fingers around Loki’s dress-shoe-covered foot, twisting sharply. 

The cry that followed would give you nightmares for a good while. Your throat closed, your vision blurred with tears and all you could do was watch as Loki instinctively dropped his legs from Andy’s neck. 

Despite your weakened knees, you stood more firmly than ever. 

Fuck Nick Fury. Andrew Kingston was going to pay. 

With his life if necessary. 

------------

The next few parts should be up fairly quickly, so keep an eye out!

Taglist: @huntress-artemiss

[devilmayi]

"Originally, Michael and I were twins. We had the same face when we were created. But where Michael is bound to one face and body, I am able to change how I appear. Perhaps that is why they considered me the most beautiful. Because I can be whatever is desired."

Lucifer looked down at the coffee in her hands.

"This drink is...making me feel strange."

A blush, but it's from the warmth of the drink.

"I think it's the caffeine. I have never experienced such a concoction. My heart is hammering in my chest."

She set the drink down beside her before getting up and moving towards the desk, looking at Nicolette.

"Nicki..."

Lucifer smiled softly.

"Do you believe me now, that I am Lucifer? And...you should not fear me. I'm on a redemption track. Father is allowing me to regain his favor."

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Will you help me? I want to be good."

Nicolette was never someone who was too ingrained in religion. She didn't even know which line of the spectrum she fell more towards on. So, when she found a guy on the street bleeding out, there was no way she could turn her back on them. They could actually need help and what kinda person would Nicolette be if she turned her back on someone in their most dire moment of need.

Hours later, they arrived at her home. She bandaged this stranger up and made sure he was all well before returning to her laptop to finish the work she had to do for the next morning. That was when this man exposed the truth. He was Lucifer. Did she believe him? No... not really. Did she believe in supernatural beings? No. She barely believed in ghosts. That was until his wings were exposed and he shifted forms to show one of the female gaze.

Swallowing thickly when she glanced down at hi-- her now exposed chest, Nicolette glanced back at the keyboard. Trying her best to hide the blush that was creeping to her cheeks. "Ya'know... they always said that Lucifer was the most beautiful of the fallen angels. That statement seems to reign true. Even before you changed into a woman."