#this was a lot more draining than I thought it would be

[supercap2319]

What the hell is this?”

Stefan had a long night of doing stupid tasks for Klaus until the asshole hybrid returned to Mystic Falls. After he was forced to turn off his humanity, Stefan traded in his hero hair and brooding for blood lust and aggression. Things were starting to get boring in this town, and Stefan was sick of waiting around like a fucking lap dog.

He was looking forward to chilling in his room for the night. Blasts some Bon Jovi music. Maybe swipe a couple of Damon's blood bags. The sound of his bathroom shower running caught Stefan's attention when he entered his room. He walks towards the bathroom, half expecting to find Damon taking a shower in there. Again. But to Stefan's surprise, it was someone else entirely.

Standing behind Stefan's glass door shower was Grayson Gilbert. The steam from the hot water had fogged up the glass, but Stefan could make out the image of Grayson washing his hair with Stefan's imported Italian soap and shampoo. Watched the soapy suds run down the witch's back before Stefan looked back up, and asked his question.

Grayson turns to him with an innocent smile. A smile that had gotten Grayson his way on more than one occasion, but without his humanity, Stefan wasn't fazed by it anymore. “Oh, hey. Welcome home. Hope you don't mind.”

“What the hell are you doing in my shower, Grayson?”

“Isn't it obvious? Having a shower, and between you and me, this is a lot safer than Damon's bathtub. I'm pretty sure it's covered in STD germs.” Grayson jokes. Stefan was not amused, even if it could possibly be true about Damon's bathtub conquests.

“Look, Grayson. I've had a really shitty day, and you're only adding to the misery, so if you could try to get my humanity back another time and leave, that would be greatly appreciated. Or I break your arm.” Stefan said.

Grayson turns off the water and steps outside, not bothering to cover himself up. It's not like Stefan hasn't seen it all before. “Wow. I thought that Ripper Stefan was supposed to be the life of the party. What's wrong? Klaus ground you?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “If you're trying to provoke me or something, it's probably not a good idea to do it to a humanity-less vampire. Especially one with no self-control. I could drain you dry like a juice box before you even get a word out.”

“So dramatic. Look, all I'm saying is that if you really are the same Stefan, who was the life of the party in your journals. The one who impressed Klaus and Rebekah, I wanna party with that guy.” Grayson said, walking past Stefan and into the bedroom. Stefan watched Grayson go through his drawers and closet, arms across his chest. “What are you doing?”

“I left some of my clothes here. It should still be here from all those times we…” Grayson let that sentence hang in the air as he put on a pair of black briefs (Stefan's by the way) and then went for some pants. Pretty soon he was dressed in Stefan's old purple Bon Jovi shirt, and a worn-out leather jacket.

“That's all my stuff.” Stefan noted.

“I'm just borrowing it. I'll return it after the party.”

“What party are you talking about?”

Grayson smirks. “My friend, Kuba invited me to a rave tonight. Apparently he and some Gypsies are going to be there. It's a couple of towns over. Let's go.”

Stefan's eyebrows were raised. “And why would I do that?”

“Because you're the fun brother now, right? I told you. I want to party with the Ripper, so let's party.” Grayson said. “You know I'm just gonna steal your car if you don't come.”

“Fine. But if I kill anyone, it's on you.” Stefan said, following Grayson out of the room.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Would you be willing to write a Rise of the TMNT Future Mikey x Reader? (Maybe Mikey and Reader are married in the future timeline?) Could this take place during the bad future timeline?

Dating Headcanons (Fluff/Angst)

Future!Michelangelo x reader

A/N: I decided to do it like my Dating Headcanons (Fluff/Angst), and give headcanons on both the Krang future and the good future. Hope you’ll enjoy🧡

Warning: None🧡

Krang future:

When the world took a turn for the worse, with the Krang quickly taking over the world above, depriving the world of sunlight, Mikey decided to rush the plans he had set for you, and propose to you in a hurry, making use of what little time he knew you and him had. None of you knew what tomorrow would bring, or if there even would be a tomorrow.

Mikey had wanted to marry you, but thought that you and him would have many more years to plan it out. But with a sky with no light, and life underground in order to survive, you decided to rush the whole thing, and got married the same day Mikey proposed - the proposal not being much more than Mikey clutching your hand, telling you he wanted to marry you, just as you ran for the saftey below ground.

The wedding itself was a quick affair, taking place as soon as you got into the bunker. Calling it a wedding could even be discussed. There was no decoration, no speeches, no preparations. It was in the rush and anxiety of everything, you and Mikey held each other’s hands tight as Splinter wed you, with Mikey’s brothers, along with April and Cassandra as witnesses, taking in the small amount of love and hope still present in the world.

The celebration itself was small and light, with most of the celebration being between you and Mikey, as you laid awake that night, cuddled up in bed, just staring lovingly at each other, with the sadness of the world not too far away from you.

Though life in the bunker was hard and often time draining, leaving little to no hope for the people living there, you and Mikey stuck through it, often relying on each other to keep up your spirits. Every night, no matter how challenging your day might have been, you and Mikey would mention at least one good thing. That in turn would help brighten your mood a little bit, having its small effects on the people around you.

Good future:

In a world where you and Mikey had all the time you needed, it was much easier being happy together, being able to spend a lot of time together, just staring lovingly into each other's eyes with bright smiles. You and Mikey would take great joy in enjoying life together, with all the joys and pleasures it had to offer. However, you were never too greedy, often making sure not to over indulge and be grateful for what you had together.

You and Mikey’s relationship could be described as happy and bright, filled with hope for the future. Maybe it was Mikey’s mystic powers, but many would describe the two of you as bright and glowing, making everyone nearby feeling warm inside. Some would even talk about how a truly well functioning relationship, would make other people 

Mikey was a thoughtful boyfriend, rarely doing anything without having you in mind, with a love language strongly relying on gift giving and acts of service (along with cute and funny comments). Flowers was commonplace, often in colors that reminded you of summer and warmth. Other than bringing you flowers pretty much everyday, Mikey would also cook for you often, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Mikey really liked to cook in general, so cooking for you was very much a joy.

Dates were just as common as gifts and acts of service. Mikey loved to take you out and see the world, collecting memories together. There was nothing that made Mikey more happy, than to watch you smile and hear you laugh, as the two of you experienced the world together, gaining one wonderful memory after the other in this bright and beautiful world. One day, Mikey wanted to see it all with you.

Will you and Mikey marry? Most likely, but you’re not busy. Married or not, you will still love each other. But one day, yeah, Mikey would propose to you, and he would surely make it memorable.

[dreamwatch]

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Together, Always

Prompt Day 14 : Together | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: MCD, Grief | Tags: Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Secret relationship, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Post S4, Sad, Loss of a Child, Angst, Mourning

Again, very late. I've been sitting on it because I wasn't happy with it but I need to set it free and move on!

There’s no television on, no radio. Wayne doesn’t much see the point in it; they don’t bring comfort, and there’s certainly no joy to be had. So he sits back in his chair with his whisky and does his best not to think. Some days that’s easier than others. Today is hard.

He hears the gravel-churn of tires outside the trailer. The trailer, not his trailer; one provided to him to say sorry. No one ever told him what they were saying sorry for. It’s cold and clinical, most of their possessions were lost back in March. But its a roof, and a bed, and that’s really all he needs these days.

There’s no knock at the door, despite headlights lighting up the inside of the trailer, so he grabs the ever-present shotgun from beside his recliner and heads outside onto the porch. He recognises the car immediately.

The driver’s door opens and Steve Harrington steps out of the car. Wayne lowers the gun.

“Guess you better come in.”

Steve stands awkwardly in the kitchen while Wayne grabs a soda from the fridge. He bought a six pack of Coke for Dustin, back when he used to visit. There’s still three cans left. He hands one to Steve.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be here,” says Steve. “Thought you’d be working.”

Wayne drains the last of his whisky. “Na, not much work around this year.”

It’s a lie. There’s more work than ever; they lost men back in March and the town rebuild has put pressure on the plant. There’s hours to be had, especially for a single man with nothing better to be doing. But not for a man who’s boy was accused of murder, and the way things are going Wayne’s expecting to be canned any day now. The bit that sticks in his craw is all the Christmas’s he had to work, either for the money or because no one would swap a shift with him, leaving Eddie alone. Now he has all the time in the world, but he doesn’t have his boy.

“Your folks home this Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “We didn’t do a lot, but… yeah.”

Wayne does his best to muster up a smile. He doesn’t have much use for them anymore so he has no idea how it reads until he gets a wan smile in return. 

“How have you been?” Steve asks, and how does a man that has lost everything answer that?

“Getting by,” is what he settles on. 

Steve sits rigid in the chair but there was a time when he’d stand in Wayne’s kitchen in nothing but his boxers cooking breakfast for all of them. When he would laze on the sofa, Eddie tucked in close to him, while they all watched a basketball game. When he could be in Wayne’s home and be as much a part of it as Eddie.

“I’m so sorry, Wayne. I should have come before. I don’t even know why I didn’t, I just—” he swipes at his nose, “I was a fucking coward.”

“You’re here now.”

Steve shakes his head.

“I let you deal with all of that on your own. He’d have been so mad at me.”

Steve was the one who called him from the hospital to tell him that Eddie was hurt. The two of them spent weeks posted like sentinels at Eddie’s bedside as he fought infections and complications, until a warm day in April when Eddie’s eyes cracked open just for a moment and Wayne hoped, before they slipped closed again.

He likes to think Eddie was saying goodbye, but then he’s an old fool.

“I thought I’d see you at the grave, but I guess we’ve been missing each other. I weed it, you know, and clean it…”

Wayne knows what cleaning it entails. He went there once, morbid curiosity when the headstone was finally placed. It had been less than a week before someone had daubed it in paint. 

“I miss him, Wayne. I fucking miss him.”

A single fat tear falls from Steve’s chin, though he doesn’t seem to notice, and Wayne wants to hold him but he doesn’t think he has the right.

He’s been waiting for this conversation but somehow it never felt right to chase after Steve, didn’t want to impose if the feelings Steve had for his boy had died right alongside him. Not that he would blame him, he’s young. But Steve’s here telling him that he’s been spending time in that place, well now it feels kind of cruel to not say it.

“He’s not there, Steve.”

Steve looks at him, brow dipped in confusion. “No, I know, heaven and all that, I get it, but—”

“No, Steve. I never buried Eddie. I didn’t want him there for people to do that to him. Boy never had a days peace in his life, he’s sure as shit getting it in death. I had him cremated. Put some of his ashes with his mom. I kept the rest.”

He gestures to the black urn, pride of place next to a photo of Eddie as a young boy, all wide eyes and toothless grin. 

“I thought you—” Wayne passes him a small white box, and his throat tightens. “You can put them in jewellery, you know?” He untucks the silver feather pendant from under his shirt. “I thought maybe you might want to….” 

Steve brushes his finger over the top of the box. It’s nothing special, just cardboard, Eddie’s name in gold on the top. But it’s better than Eddie rotting away in a grave for people to desecrate. Wayne just couldn’t stand for that.

“I know you’ll meet someone, maybe start a family—”

“No—”

“You will, and that’s okay. He’d want you to be happy. But you didn’t get very long and that cuts me, Steve. You made him happy. So maybe you can be together for a little longer, huh?”

“Always,” Steve chokes, before clearing his throat. “Always.”

[izel-scribbles]

I simply adore your art style and wanted to ask if you have any pointers for developing my own style and/or advice to improve in general. (already doing 1 min figure drawing as routinely as I can)

Also Happy New Year 🎊

Happy new year!!

thank you so much!! heres my advice for you <3

i would say find something to get like INSANELY obsessed with. For me it was malevolent. From april to august i improved a crazy amount just from that. Also, use references!!!! References are your best friend!!!! once you get confident enough, you can start combining references or just skipping them altogeher, but using references helped me a LOT when i was learning how to draw realistic anatomy, hair, faces, clothes, etc. Also find an artist whose style you like and do some studies of their art! I really love early-to-mid 20th century art. J. C. Leyendecker was a massive inspiration to me, especially with color work and rendering. Heres some of his art:

(Yes theres two cowboy ones dont ask)

I love the way he renders skin and fabric particularly, making them look so vibrant and alive, so I studied a bunch of his pieces (did it with my fav characters to make it more fun) and figured out how to achieve his style with my own art supplies. Even though his work is mainly gouache and oil paints and I use alcohol markers, there were some characteristics i could apply. if you want to do studies quickly and easily, trace over photos and isolate shapes- this helped me figure out which aspects to keep the same and which ones to stylize or exaggerate.

!!! ALSO !!! DO NOT FORCE YOURSELF TO DRAW. THIS IS HOW YOU GET FRUSTRATED WITH YOUR WORK + MAKE SOMETHING THAT SHOULD BE FUN DRAINING. if you want to draw something but you cant pin down the idea, go read a book or go outside or do another hobby for a little bit! this always helps me because my thoughts flow a lot more freely when im not pressuring myself to come up with something.

I know a lot of artists learn from video tutorials and the such, but i personally never watch those so i dont have any to recommend. Ive also never really taken any art classes other than school required ones.

hopefully this helps! Lmk if you have any more questions :)

[theewritingbea]

Dangerously In Love: Chapter One

A/N: This story has been kicking my ass. Still practicing my writing. The dialogue is ehh, but we move, definitely will improve once it’s all said and done. This is an introduction chapter so there’s a lot of alluding but everything will eventually come together. NOT a Kory v. Barbara type of fic. Their relationship is cordial and will be touched upon. Pls excuse all typos if I keep re-reading I’m going to second guess myself. Story loosely inspired by two amazing stories “Looking Through Your Eyes” & “With Me” by the amazing @trippinsorrows check them out!! Umm think that’s it. ENJOY💜💙

——————————-—–————————————

Darkness illuminated the Gotham night sky. The cool breeze of the air barely registered to his clammy skin. His ragged breath puffed in clouds as he tried to catch it.

He’s dying. The years of living in the dangerous life of Gotham have finally caught up to him.

Tears burn in his eyes as the life drains out of him on the cold concrete. For years he’d live recklessly hoping the Gotham night life would finally put him out of his misery. But now he had a life worth living. It was just like Gotham to take him away when he was finally happy.

As the world started to blur, all Dick could think was “Why? Why now?”

4 months earlier…..

Hell is what Dick would describe his predicament. Sucked back into the life he spent two years trying to escape. Here he sat in Wayne Manor planning what has been deemed the “wedding of the century” with someone he doesn’t feel anything other than platonic about.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When Dick imagined wedding planning, he imagined it with her. Kory Anders, the love of his life who he hadn’t seen, spoken to or heard from in almost two years. He didn’t even know where she was. It’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth after their split.

He remembers that brutal night vividly. The look on Kory’s face haunts his dreams. He tried to explain that he loved her, that they could still have the life they planned. But she didn’t want to hear it, feeling that he was choosing “the life” over her.

Over them.

And in a way he did. He chose to appease his overbearing father, instead of standing up for her. Instead of standing up for their relationship.

Something he’d never forgive himself for.

“Dick did you hear what I said?” Barbara Gordon Dick’s fiancée's voice questions snapping him back to reality.

“Hmm, sorry what were you saying?” Dick replied

Clearly annoyed with his inattention, Barbara politely dismisses the wedding planner before turning to him.

“Listen I know this isn’t ideal but this is the situation we’re in. I would appreciate it if you at least pretended to care.”

She’s right. The situation was not ideal for anyone. Arranged marriages never are.

But unlike himself, Barbara was better at handling the situation better. For one she didn’t have to leave her life behind.

Born into one of the biggest crime families in Gotham, Barbara wanted nothing more than to follow in her father’s footsteps. Since he’s known her all she talked about was taking over the family business and would do anything to accomplish that. Even if it meant being in a loveless marriage. Business was over everything in her eyes.

“I’m trying here Barbara but don’t you think this whole situation is a lot?” Dick inquires.

“I meaning planning a wed-“

“I’m not talking about the wedding Barbara!”

“Maybe it would be best if I just take over everything” Barbara dismisses. Dick scoffs astonished by her lack of response. This was not the Barbara he’d known.

“You’re ridiculous” Dick angrily gets up to leave the conversation.

“What do you want me to say Dick! You think I want to marry someone I haven’t seen in years just to get my birth right! But this was always the plan since the day we met! You used to want to have Gotham just like me! What changed?”

“Everything! There’s life outside of Gotham, have you ever thought about that!”

“This is about Kory,” Barbara marveled

“It’s no-“ he hesitates.

“You made that choice! I told you from the beginning how it was going to end!”

“Is everything alright?” A deep baritone voice interjects the intense conversation.

Dick knew that voice anywhere.

Bruce Wayne Dick’s adoptive father. The relationship was complicated by all means but in a weird way they still had love for each other as father and son. But in the last year of being home, Dick felt nothing but bitterness towards his father.

“Dick?” Bruce questions again.

“It's nothing Bruce,” Dick coldly responds exiting the room with Bruce right on his heels.

“You want to tell me what that was about.”

“No I don’t, so let’s keep pretending like we always do.”

“Look Dick ever since we lost Jason I feel that I need to be more involved with you,” Bruce sympathizes.

“Don’t use me to clear your conscience about Jason!” Dick shouts. What happened to Jason was a sore spot for the both of them and Bruce knows what heartstring to play.

“What I’m trying to say is talk to me. You’re still my son no matter how you feel about me. Your mad, your angry, I understand I was the same way at this point in my life too. But you have to let it go before it consumes you. That’s a dark and dangerous path that's hard to come back from. I can’t lose another son.”

Dick knows Bruce isn’t necessarily wrong. He needed to let go before it consumed it even more than it already has. Everyday he wakes up mad at the world. Ready for war with any and everyone. He understands carrying all this anger would eventually lead to his demise.

And even though he borderline hated his father right now, he never wanted to see Bruce suffer the way he did with Jason.

But on the second hand, letting go meant letting go of Kory. Letting go of the possibility that one day they would reunite and have their happily ever after. And Dick just wasn’t ready to let go of that possibility.

To let go of her.

He could only hope that wherever Kory was she hadn’t let go of him.

Manhattan, New York City

The early morning light shined through the sheer drapes as Kory stared out into her penthouse living room from the kitchen. She hadn’t been able to have a full night's rest for a while now, so the quiet mornings to herself she’s learned to cherish.

The past year and a half have been a world wind for Kory. It was like overnight the life she had for the past two years had been swept from under her feet.

Grief is what she felt at first. Grieving a man who wasn’t even dead. Grief quickly turned to anger.

Anger at him. Anger at the situation.

Kory knew Dick had his family issues. She understood them probably more than anyone else. The underground life of Gotham was nothing compared to where she grew up.

Being the next in line to take over the Anders family business, she knew what it was like to be raised by an overbearing mob boss father who wanted nothing more than for their children to fall in line. Kory never judged him for his family life, she dealt with it, helped him get over the hurdles. All she asked in return was honesty and that’s all he didn’t give her.

Even so no matter how angry she was with Dick, Kory couldn’t say she hated him.

Though she wants nothing to do with him.

Her trust is something she valued more than life itself. Dick knew of her past trust issues with family, friends, past lovers, and he still broke that trust.

Yet with that she still couldn’t say she hated the man who broke her heart into a million little pieces.

The faint sound of a soft whimper breaks through Kory's quiet morning. Putting the rest of the milk into the bottle Kory makes her way back to her bedroom to start her new morning routine.

Another reason she couldn’t say hated Dick.

How could Kory hate the man who helped create someone who would love her just as unconditional as she loved them.

No matter how hard she tried to forget Dick she simply couldn’t, because every time she looked into the eyes of her daughter she saw him.

[eternally-tired-cryptid]

Thinking so hard abt Fairy Tail rn

[pandaspwnz]

Whoever decided it was a good idea to bake a pie on a fucking wednesday afternoon is a goddamn clown and should be dropkicked into the sun

[cuteniaarts]

Greyscale Midori sketch because I’m low-key artblocked

[elytrafemme]

i think i played sims 4 with my sister for six hours straight today?

[lesbiansanemi]

Man inventory at work drained the fucking life out of me cuz it’s miserable anyways but also they completely fuck over my entire schedule for it by making me stay until 11 when normally I’m off by 6:30 so I’m exhausted and had a migraine all day yesterday and now apparently my great grandma is dying can I just like. Chill for a few days or something. Jesus Christ. Let me nap and play a video game or something

[nexus-nebulae]

Ive gotten so used to not being able to play most games bc of my hands and reaction time n stuff so ive basically gotten used to hitting a ceiling in a game where i can't play normally anymore and need to use assists/cheats so every time i find a game that i Don't need to do that for whenever it ends im just like wait huh thats it???

[yume-no-miya]

look i love making sae be the one who's so in love and showering hajun with so much love and affection but it's much more fun to think that HE fell harder than her

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for divorcing my vampire husband because he lied to me about his human job?

I (542 vampire) and my husband (260 vampire) have been together for a little over two centuries. There’s a saying in the vampiric community that it takes a century for a tryst to become an enduring partnership and another century to become soulmates. I thought that was true and that Matthew (using his real name because fuck you, Matthew) and I would be together forever…until this week.

First, let me explain a few things to the mortals here. I don’t mean that negatively – I came here specifically to get the opinion of those with a finite lifespan. However, I want to be fair to Matthew as much as possible and some of his decisions are very immortal-minded.

Both Matthew and I are vampires who have chosen to forsake some of our powers in exchange for the ability to daywalk. We made the transition together on our 100th anniversary almost 115 years ago. It wasn’t an easy transition for me. I was very dependent on human blood and I spent the first twenty years in almost constant sleep as my body adjusted to running off of less lunar magic and more solar magic.

It really felt like I was losing everything. My body got physically weaker and my powers began to disappear one by one. It felt like every time I woke, another part of me was missing. One day I could turn into a wolf, the next I could barely turn into a vapor. I could command a legion of undying servants, and then I could barely convince the mailman he didn’t see me levitate down from the second floor.

Matthew, however, took to daywalking like a werewolf to a sheep farm. He barely seemed to feel the pain of losing his power, maybe because he was so much younger than me. Whatever the case, he was out all the time once he stabilized. He would be gone for days sometimes and when he came back it was with fantastic stories about the humans’ new inventions or the new structures being built in whatever town we were in.

I’m not saying I regret transitioning. Just that Matthew and I had very different experiences. It felt like he barely changed at all while my entire being got rewritten. Being immortal makes you comfortable in your own skin. I never doubted myself or my power after I turned 100. But becoming a daywalker made me feel like I was being born as a human again. It was humiliating and vulnerable. I have to admit there were times I resented how easily Matthew did it. I blamed him for not supporting me like I thought he should. I would daydream about draining a human in front of him, showing him what I thought of his fascination with them. I had all sorts of vile and vengeful thoughts. I’m not proud of the person I was and now I’m grateful Matthew wasn’t there to see the lows I sunk to.

Despite all my awful thoughts, I didn’t quit. I don’t know why, but I didn’t. I stuck with it and, day by day, things got easier.

After 26 years I began to stabilize. The benefits of being a daywalker slowly blossomed before me.  Now I can say that I am completely happy with my daywalker status and all the changes it’s brought.

I am the most mentally stable I have been since my Turning in 1482. It’s like I’m awake. The fits of rage that used to consume me for months at a time have completely disappeared. I don’t experience the same level of obsession I used to which has freed up a lot of my time that I used to spend stalking my victims.

However, that drastic of a change would be challenging in any relationship. Matthew and I ended up together because of my obsessive nature. Our relationship became strained when that part of me went dormant. He expected me to follow his immersion into the human world just as I had followed him in his revenge quest against his Master. He expected me to support him wholeheartedly and with everything I was. He wanted sacrifices from me that I used to not even flinch at before making. But something was just…different. We wanted different things. I wanted different things.

Matthew was obsessed with being the perfect human. He craved full immersion. He still makes it a point to get a human job every twenty years or so. Me? I’m happy to live off our investments and some mild mind control while enjoying the art and theater community the humans have evolved.

It got bad. Some years, we spent like ghosts in our own house, drifting by each other without a glance. Other years, it was like we were spies behind enemy lines. He would do whatever he could to thwart me and I would go out of my way to ridicule him. Our vitriol poisoned the earth. Matthew didn’t speak to me for a full decade when that poison killed off an entire town.

About twenty years ago, it all came to a head. We had a serious sit-down talk about our relationship. It wasn’t easy. What they say about teaching an old dog new tricks is sometimes true. Matthew wanted me to be as involved with the humans as he was. He wanted me to care about them like he did. I wanted him to travel with me like we used to and not just hop from town to neighboring town (which he did to maintain a human identity with references so he could keep working). When it became clear that we were at an impasse, I brought up the idea of separation.

Separating in the vampiric world isn’t easy. There are a lot of alliances and blood oaths to be considered. Over the two centuries we spent together, we became known as a unit to a number of supernatural entities that we maintain an uneasy truce with. Separating would mean creating new oaths and alliances with the same individuals. And there was no guarantee that those individuals would make new pacts with both of you. A LOT of vampire couples end up in blood feuds while separating. Neither of us wanted that.

There was also, of course, the emotional side of things. While a lot of immortals tend to only feel muted emotions (especially vampires as old as me), Daywalking had made both of us more sensitive than we’d been before. We were both attached to the memories we shared and neither of us could imagine life without the other. After 200 years together, it felt like Matthew was my right arm, and I his. When I brought up separation, we both felt it like we were discussing an amputation.

After about a year of talking, we finally reached an agreement. We didn’t want to separate, and so we would compromise. I wouldn’t interfere with any of Matthew’s human jobs for the 15-17 years if he could hold them without arousing suspicion. In exchange, he would take a year off to go traveling with me before finding another town for us to live in. In between my trips, he would go to plays and galas with me to enjoy human artistry at least once a month.

Maybe our deal was in his favor. At the time, it felt practical and fair. A year of traveling wouldn’t undo Matthew’s string of connections. We would still see each other frequently by going on dates that I liked. Matthew would get to stay immersed in the human world at the level he wanted, and I could stay within my comfort zone.

Which brings me to my current problem.

We are currently at the start of one of Matthew’s work cycles. He’s been everything from a fireman to a politician to a subway worker to a barista. He craves knowledge and connection to a terrifying degree. If it weren’t for how we move every 20 years and he goes without protest, I’d call it obsession.

This cycle, Matthew told me he was going to be a teacher. I was hesitant. While the humans have become more tolerant and less violent over the years, that doesn’t mean they will tolerate us near their young. Enough humans know about vampires that staking in the modern era is a real possibility. Matthew could incite an angry mob against us or, heaven forbid, get a vampire hunter on our tail. I have yet to be shot, but I hear that they have silver bullets that hurt like Hell.

When I voiced my protests, Matthew reminded me about our agreement. He said that I wouldn’t interfere with his jobs and he’d go to all the plays I liked. He even pointed out that, as a teacher, he could get us into high school plays and expositions. I was uneasy, but agreements are penultimate to immortals. I silenced my objections and let him get a job as a science teacher at a local high school.

When Michael has had jobs in the past, I’ve never really paid attention. One time he was a state senator for ten years and I never even heard him speak. I didn’t consider it worth my time to hear whatever his facsimile of a human would say. Real humanity is in the art they create, not in the parody Michael enacts.

But this one…I couldn’t ignore this one. Maybe it was because I was still uneasy about his proximity to human young or maybe I could sense his lies even at the beginning. Whatever the case, I watched him.

The first thing I noticed was the hours. He would go to work early and would often come home when it was time for us to sleep. When I asked him about it, he said that he wasn’t used to grading and that he had underestimated what it took to put a good lesson plan together. I visited some online forums and that’s apparently reasonable for first year teachers.

He would also sometimes go in on the weekends. He missed one of our dates because there was a “grading emergency” that needed his immediate attention. Something about a student’s test getting lost and then found and he needed to input their grade before the deadline which was on Saturday. Humans like silly rules like that so I didn’t even look that one up. I just reminded him that he couldn’t miss our dates again or else he was breaking our deal. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.

Then about three months into his new job, the phone calls started. We have a private room in our house for when we need to talk without any visitors overhearing. Michael moved all his school supplies in there, saying that he needed a silent space to concentrate on his grading. Whenever he got a call, he would never answer it in front of me. Instead, he’d say “Sorry, work” and just go into his office.

I also noticed that he didn’t dress very professionally. Human fashion changes quickly so it didn’t register at first. A sweatshirt here and there slipped past me, and also the Gucci slides. When he started wearing baggy jeans and jerseys to work, I noticed. I may not be up to date on all the newest fashions, but I do go to classy events. I know what a slob looks like and it didn’t sit right with me that he was wearing that to school. When I asked him about it, he always had an excuse. “This is what everyone wears” and “It’s a theme day” or, bafflingly, “It’s spirit week!”

I tried to leave it alone. The reason we have stayed together for so long is because of our agreement to not interfere in each other’s lives. But between his hours, the phone calls, and his appearance, something didn’t add up.

Then, last Thursday, he missed another one of our dates. We were supposed to go to the Nutcracker together. Even though I prefer matinees (when the cast is fresh), I agreed to get us tickets for the evening show so that he wouldn’t have to leave work early. When he wasn’t there at 7pm, I called him and he didn’t answer. Then, when I called him again, his phone was switched off.

I was furious. I spend nearly two decades in these tiny towns so he can live his human fantasy and he can’t even show up for one two hour show? It was the first time since becoming a daywalker that I felt that angry. I was scared about what I might do, so I made myself go home to wait for him.

Only, he never came home that night. At 3am, he sent me a text apologizing and promising to make up our date on Saturday. But the Nutcracker was only playing until Friday and that would be too little, too late. To be honest, it already was. I texted him that and he never responded.

He never ended up coming home last weekend. I texted and called him probably a dozen times and he never responded. I got angrier and angrier as the days dragged by. Did he think I was someone to be taken lightly? Did he not realize that the fragile agreement between us was all that was keeping us from separation?

Yesterday (Monday), I couldn’t take it anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home or respond to my messages, then I would go to him. If he was so obsessed with this new job that he would ignore me for it, then I knew exactly where to find him.

I arrived at his school at 10am. I researched enough to know how to go to the office and sign myself in. I asked the office assistant which room Mr. Duetto was in.

The lovely young woman looked confused. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give that information out to anyone but family,” she said.

“I am his only family,” I said.

She clicked a few more keys and looked more confused. “His paperwork only shows his mother, Delilah Duetto.”

That’s right. His mother. But I still didn’t understand then.

“That’s me,” I said.

“You are not the mother of 17-year-old.”

“I’m his wife,” I said.

She was upset by that. I won’t bore you with every detail, but I had to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call the police. I may not look like someone who has a teenager, but I also don’t look like a teenager. I ended up having to alter her memories so she wouldn’t call human CPS on an apparent adult swearing she was married to a minor.

I went home and broke into his office. There weren’t any lesson plans. There were no graded papers. There were syllabus from different classes, homework with his name on it, and a few polaroids taped to the bottom of his desk of him at a party with children.

Human children. I don’t honestly know which is worse.

(EDIT: I know the child part is the worst part. I misspoke because of my anger. It’s not the humans’ fault that my husband is a pervert.)

I broke into his laptop and used that to check his text messages. He’s been texting like a high schooler. He’s been to parties with them, listened to their problems and even fabricated a few of his own. He’s caught in some sort of weird love triangle where a freshman girl likes him but his “best friend” likes her. He has texted both of them about it, promising his “bro” that nothing is happening and then turning around and leading this girl-child on.

Some choice quotes: I should know better than to get close with you. You and I come from very different worlds

To which she replied, lol maybe we should let our worlds collide

!!!!

I find the entire situation disgusting. Matthew is several centuries older than them and he definitely knows better. He’s literally wearing the sheep’s fleece amongst the flock. He has no business forming relationships with human children and even less pretending to be one of them. He’s not a baby. He is over two centuries old!

What is he doing flirting with a child? It’s vile and disgusting and I was set to kill him for it.

I confronted him about it when he came home last night. I told him that he was sick and dangerous and if he loved humans then he needed to stop immediately. I told him we either left town today or I would make sure he never set foot back in that school in a way he really wouldn’t like.

 He threw a huge tantrum over my invading his privacy. He shouted at me that I had broken my promise to never interfere in his job. He called me controlling and crazy.

I told him he was the crazy one for chatting up a child. He told me he wasn’t, she was just his friend. I asked him to read their texts out loud if he was being so friendly. I also pointed out that there was no way a 260-year-old vampire is a child’s friend.

He told me I was a hypocrite because I basically cradle robbed him (we’re almost 300 years apart.) He said if anyone was disgusting, it was me for taking advantage of him.

I pointed out that he wasn’t a child, he was over 60 and had already been a vampire for four decades. He argued that that was basically being a child in vampire terms.

I was so angry at that point that the house was shaking. I told him if he felt that way, then we could get divorced right then and there. That that was what I wanted to do anyway because I couldn’t be married to a pedophile.

He asked me if I was seriously going to start a blood feud over him immersing himself in human society. I said no, I’m starting a blood feud because he’s become every predatory stereotype humans have of vampires.

He called me a hypocrite again and told me he was leaving. He said not to call him unless I was ready to apologize. I told him that the next time he sees me, he’d better run before I showed him the real difference between us. And it wasn’t just 300 years.

When I calmed down, doubt started creeping in. From an immortal perspective, what he’s doing isn’t really wrong. I hate to say it, but most immortals don’t view human lives as significant. I know a few vampires who would say that divorcing because he’s playing with his food is idiotic.

Plus, there’s the agreement to consider. During our fight, Matthew pointed out that being a student is a job to humans. So therefore I didn’t have the right to interfere. A big part of me thinks that’s bullshit, but a small part of me wonders if he’s maybe right about that?

I also have to ask myself why this even bothers me. I’m the one in the relationship that is aloof from humans. I’m the one that’s always saying we are from different worlds (Yeah, he stole that from me) and for good reason. 

But over the years, I’ve become fond of humans. No immortal makes art like them. I may not remember my time as a mortal, but there are works that give me a sense of nostalgia. Sometimes I think I can remember being a child myself, standing in a field like in Monet painting, staring at the wheatstacks and waiting for the miller to come. 

The thought of Matthew playing with them makes me sick. It’s like even after all the years of him living amongst them, he thinks of them as props in his twisted play. It’s even worse that he’s doing this to children. 

I can’t help but think something went really wrong with my husband when I wasn’t looking. At the very least, I’m planning on divorcing him. But would I be the asshole if I killed him too?

 Separating from him will be violent and messy. There will likely be human casualties. But I don’t see any other way. So, I ask.

AITA for divorcing my husband for lying to me about his human job?

----

Thanks for reading! I loved answering some of the responses I got when I first posted this over on my Patreon (X)!

These collaborative story telling pieces are the highlight of my week. Next week's story is about a witch who wants to know if she should attend her high school reunion even though she's responsible for stripping two former classmates of their magic...

Please check that out here (X) if you''d like early access! Otherwise I'll see y'all next week :)

[fma03envy]

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[in--somnium]

((I meant to be on last night but I was tired 😅

That said, I might toss a couple of open starters up this evening after I send out the memes I owe.

Don't hesitate to let me know if you want a short starter or a meme or something! If I don't get to them tonight, I'll try to do them after work tomorrow ❤️))

[capsi-cuminme]

Blowing Off Steam

summary: in which you're very stressed, and sparring is the only way you can destress. you're having trouble finding a partner though, so logan volunteers to help.

pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mild swearing, fingering, some dirty talk, lots of horny thoughts, 18+ MDNI

author's note: ahhhh sweaty logan on a fighting mat is all i need. anyways, thank you guys sm for the response on my other fic, as a gift i bring you smut ;)

•──✦──•

You’re stressed. You’ve been overworking yourself, you know it, and you need to relax, destress. Your body feels wound up with tension and energy, and you’re unable to release it. It’s not like you have super complicated abilities that mess with your mind and make you lose your shit, no - that’s Jean’s set of troubles, not yours. Your ability is simple enough - super strength. 

So what is it that isn’t simple then? Right. Someone you can actually truly train with and exert yourself out with. There aren’t a load of people who can physically keep up with your strength, not except Colossus, and even he’s just a kid. So when, at times, you want to blow some steam by training, you have next to no one to do it with. 

Or, you didn’t, not until Logan came along. You’ve sparred with him a couple of times, but only for excessively short periods of time, due to you not being able to keep your shit together because of his overwhelming attractiveness. Honestly, you don’t think it’s your fault that you’re unable to focus; his arms look like he could rip apart logs of wood with them, his shoulders are so wide that they’re practically made for people to rest their ankles on, and his demeanor - his understated, wolfish demeanor makes you go insane. 

And as if all these things weren’t bad enough on their own, they tend to get exponentially exemplified whenever you guys spar. Obviously, fighting makes him breathe hard and stuff. So your life becomes even tougher. 

Really, you aren’t trying to be horny around him all the time. But that’s the thing. You’re pent up, stressed, overworked. Being a member of the X-Men means that it gets really hard to get laid due to several factors, and then when your coworkers are so hot? God help you. 

As you sit on the gym’s bench, staring at the sparring mats, you strain your mind to think of someone to spar with. You could ask Colossus, the kid’s always more than ready and could give you some competition on one of your bad days. But there’s too much of a risk. You’re already restless with energy, itching to let yourself go; in case the kid isn’t prepared or you get too excited, you’d end up hurting him, which is something you can’t risk. 

You could maybe go to Ororo and Scott, ask them to come at you together? The two of them together would successfully tire you out. Maybe they’d become a bit more than you’re mentally willing to handle. You don’t want to have to strategise at every step. 

God, you just need someone who can handle whatever you throw at them without having to think too much. Unfortunately for you, there’s only one person in the mansion who can do that. 

“Oh hey Bub, what you doing here? Got no classes to teach?” The somehow smooth but gravelly voice breaks you out of your train of thought as you turn to look at Logan, entering the gymnasium. 

Internally rejoicing at his choice of clothes - the white wifebeater under the oversized jacket - while simultaneously praying that he isn’t here to stay, you get up from your seat to speak to him. “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to blow off some steam.”

“And you’re blowing off steam by… sitting on the bench?” He raises an eyebrow, looking at you questioningly. 

You sigh through your nose, smiling exhaustedly. “No, genius. I was confused about what I should do to destress.”

Your prayers go down the drain as you notice his eyes light up at the prospect of a sparring partner. Nodding to the mats, he asks, “You wanna go?”

Tongue in cheek, you review your options for a moment. Go to bed frustrated and stressed, or fight an extremely attractive man who’s also able to keep up with you. 

“Sure, let’s go.” 

And that’s how you find yourself attempting to elbow Logan in the face. He dodges and takes a step back, but not too far. Turning, you see the grin etched on his face. Taking it as a challenge, you feign a movement to the right, but attack from the left. Your arm aims for his face, but he deflects it by pushing your momentum to one side, stepping away and behind you and putting you into a headlock.

“What’s up?” he murmurs into your ear. “Can’t figure out what to do? Are you really that tired, huh?” 

You felt his chest heave from behind you, his warm breath tickling your ear. Body humming with excitement and mind buzzing with the thrill of finally being in an equal match, you grit your jaw, throwing your head back against his. As much as you enjoy the tone of his voice, you hope it hits him in the mouth just so he can shut up, because being aroused is not something you’re looking forward to. 

Yes you’re horny, maybe even a little perverted, but you truly don’t have any ulterior motives. 

Logan hisses as his grip on you loosens. Shimmying your way out of his grip, you lunge at him, arms ready to swing, but instead of throwing a punch when you get near, you use your leg to swipe at his legs, resulting in him landing on his back.

Silently rejoicing, you straddle him, pulling your arm back to land a punch on his jaw, but unfortunately he grabs hold of your arms before you can do that. As a result, you’re left heaving on top of him, arms immobile, face right above his. You don’t miss the way he breathes, sweat trickling down his forehead, eyes glinting with something you can’t fully identify. You also don’t miss the dampness of your underwear, the electricity you feel where you’re sitting on him. You realize you’re playing a dangerous game. Just as you’re about to make a move to get up, Logan suddenly moves you by the grip he has on your arms, slamming you onto the mats with considerable force. He looms on top of you, looking down. You squeak in indignant surprise, but he pins your arms on both sides of your face, lodging his thigh between yours. You gasp, not expecting the sudden escalation of events. “Darling, you know I’ve got a heightened sense of smell, right?” he asks, drawling. “I can smell your arousal, practically feel how you’re soaking down there.” Eyes wide and mouth agape, you stare up at him, not sure what to say, how to apologize. “Logan, I- I’m sor-” “Don’t have to say a word, Darling, I’m the same as you,” he emphasizes his point by rolling his hips against yours. You whimper quietly, feeling his erection pressing against your clit. “If I’m not interpreting this correctly, you can stop me,” he hums, getting closer to your face. Waiting for your approval, he looks at you. You close the distance between the both of you, borderline moaning as you feel his tongue grazing against your lips, asking to enter your mouth. More than willing, you grant him entry freely, whimpering as his tongue explores your mouth. You break the kiss, short of breath, but your distance doesn’t last long. Logan is sloppily making out with you as he grinds against you. Your bodies move hurriedly, in urgent need of release. 

“Lo,” you gasp between the kisses, “need you so bad, please.” He complies, hands leaving your arms as he gets on his haunches and quickly unbuttons your pants, pulling them down. His hand moves to your pussy, thumb pressing against your clit, gauging your reaction. Your eyes widen due to the unexpected movement, and you gasp. Satisfied with your response, he rubs short, quick circles against your clit, stimulating you as he slowly pushes in one finger. You moan, hands reaching down to stop the sudden intrusion. It’s been a while since you’ve done this, so your body’s sensitivity is at an all-time high. Logan doesn’t care, swatting away your hands, slipping in another finger. He moves them in shallow thrusts, stretching you out while looking for the spot that’ll finally get you wound up enough for his liking. You bite your lip to keep yourself silent, staring at the way Lo’s fingers pump in and out of you, making a mess out of your cunt. Suddenly, his fingers press into that spot that you’re never quite able to reach yourself, making you let out a loud moan. “Lo, Lo please, right there please, don’t stop-” you break your own voice off with an even louder whimper, eyes closing due to the pleasure. Logan watches you with keen eyes trained on your face. He speeds up his fingers and thumb, enjoying your reaction thoroughly, as it ignites something deep within him. He palms himself lightly, hissing as he realizes how hard he is. “Shit, darling, you make me insane,” he mumbles, guiding one of your hands to the bulge in his jeans, making you feel him. Your mouth falls open with a little “oh,” as you feel him. You try to palm him to relieve some of his tension, but fail as his fingers pump in and out of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. “O- oh God, Lo, I’m cumming, please please please-” you moan loudly as your orgasm crashes over you, thrashing on the mat. Logan holds down your hips, continuing his languid movements, easing you out of the feeling in waves. As you finally relax, catching your breath, you look up at him, unsure of what comes next. Usually by this point, guys tended to take their own pants off. Logan’s were still very much on. Before you could verbalize your confusion, he speaks. “I think we’ve blown enough steam off in the gym,” he chuckles. “I don’t want Charles to gim’me looks the entire month. I say we take this upstairs bub, what d’ya say?”

You stare up at him, wondering why he’s even asking, when there’s only one possible answer you could make out through the haziness of your mind. “Yes, let’s go.”