#and i smell like a burnt turkey

[lovebugism]

SAYING UGLY THINGS ON CHRISTMAS EVE WITH STEBE PLEASEEEEEEE

let's just pretend it's still christmas ok? hope you like it angel! — steve gets cruel when he's anxious, and with his parents coming to town, he's practically a timebomb (ditzy!fem!reader, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 2.1k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

You were only trying to help. 

Really, you were. 

Steve’s been stressing himself sick about his parents coming over, and you’ve been following him around with your heart in your throat, trying to help him before he totally implodes.

He’s always a ticking time bomb when his parents are in town. He doesn’t know how to be anything else when it comes to them. He doesn’t know how to be anything other than perfect because he’s terrified of his mom’s backhanded compliments and his dad’s sneering replies. 

He always turns into his teenage self when he’s scared — and there’s nothing more terrifying than being a teenager again.

You know all this, so you try your best to be supportive when he gets in moods like these. When he’s on edge and fussing over every little thing. You help him dust the top of the fridge and organize the spice cabinet and wipe down all the windows — even though you know his parents won’t notice, or otherwise care, about any of it.

And then, when you finally get the buzzing ball of anxiety to cuddle up with you on the couch, you manage to screw everything up all over again.

His head is on your chest, wild hair still drying from his shower. You hear him sniff once, then twice. “What’s that smell?” he wonders, not entirely apprehensive ‘cause the TV’s got most of his attention.

“What smell?” you ask, more distracted than he is. 

His weight on you is a comforting one. You pet him like a cat accordingly — one palm rubbing up and down the length of his back and the other curling in his hair. With your nose among the chestnut strands, you don’t smell anything other than his floral shampoo.

“It smells like something’s burning.”

You pull back from him and sniff hard once. It smells a bit smoky, like cooking something over a campfire. Because something is burning. Your heart plummets to your stomach at the realization. 

“Oh…” you hum under your breath, blood running ice-cold.

Steve only tenses up because you do. Your warm hands on his body go suddenly rigid. His scruffy chin rubs against the chest of your sweater when he turns to look at you. His honey eyes twinkle with confusion and concern. “Oh, what?”

“I think that might be the turkey…” you answer in a tiny voice because you know what’s coming.

“The what?”

“I put it in while you were in the shower, ‘cause you were so worried it wouldn’t get done in time—”

“Shit, babe!” he blurts and pushes himself off the couch. He rushes towards the kitchen without another look your way. You follow behind him like a puppy and hopelessly try to explain yourself. 

“—And then you wanted to cuddle after, so I laid down and totally forgot about it!”

“So you’re saying it’s my fault?” he scoffs and swings the door of the stove down. He flinches at the billowing gray smoke. He rises again and rummages through an adjacent drawer, in search of oven mitts.

Your face swirls with confusion. “No!”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I forgot!”

“That’s not an excuse, babe!” He grimaces as he reaches into the hot oven. The tray clatters to the stove with a smoking turkey on top. It’s not totally burnt, but it’s hard as a rock and charred all over. Neither of you are chefs, but you could probably guess it’s less than edible. 

“Shit…” Steve huffs under his breath. His hands fall to his waist and he cocks a hip to the side, blinking at the molten turkey before him because he’s at a loss for what to do now.

You stand just behind him, cowering as you wring your hands together. You feel small, like a child moments away from getting scolded. “I’m sorry, Steve,” you murmur, voice wavering. “I just wanted to help—”

He laughs loud. A bitter scoff, at most. “Well, you did a great job of that, didn’t you?” he says with a sour smile on his plush pink lips.

Tears burn the backs of your eyes. You decide to blame it on the lingering smoke. 

“I said I was sorry,” you insist in a tiny voice, trying your best to stand up for yourself. You fucked up. Both of you know it. Rubbing salt in the wound doesn’t help anything.

“That doesn’t fix it, baby!” he argues, hands gesticulating wildly when he turns to you. His chiseled features are sharp with anger, but you decide to count your blessings ‘cause he’s still calling you baby. He only uses your real name when he’s really upset.

“I’m gonna have to go all the way to the store and make it all over again!”

“I’ll pay for it, Stevie, it’s okay—”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is the point?”

“My parents are coming over tonight! And if everything’s not perfect, I will never hear the end of it,” he agonizes, voice fragile and close to breaking. His honey eyes go glassy when the red emotion slowly turns blue. “About how I can’t make it on my own, how I moved out too early— how I never should’ve moved in with you.”

His words sting a little bit, in the most literal sense. The very center of your chest starts to ache, like he’s shoved a red-hot knife into your sternum. 

You try to shrug it off as best you can. “Well, who cares what your parents say?”

“I do! I have to, ‘cause I’m the one that’ll have to hear about it every goddamn day!”

His misplaced anger begins to build, like the looming shadow of a boogeyman. The weight of it starts to suffocate you. At a loss of how to make any of it better (because you’ve got a record of doing the exact opposite) you try to bring your high-strung boy down again.

“It’s just a turkey, Steve. We can make another.”

You prepare yourself for an argument, but Steve only huffs — so deep it makes his chest rise and fall. His head tips back as he rubs two wide palms over his face, down to his chin and back up again. He swipes his fingers through the still-drying strands of his unstyled hair and doesn’t say a single word. 

His teeth are clenched tight. You can tell by the sudden sharpness of his jaw and the way his temples are slightly shifted. His eyes are still shut as he breathes in deep, rhythmic patterns. You can almost hear him counting to ten inside his head in attempts to calm back down again.

Steve is painfully self-aware of how hotheaded he gets when he’s anxious. Every little thing feels like the end of the world when he’s cranked up to one hundred. Problem is, he only realizes how cruel he’s being after he’s hurt someone with it.

That someone in question is you now. The sweeter-than-sugar you, the brighter-than-sunshine you, the well-meaning-but-sometimes-totally-careless you. 

And Steve, on the other hand, is utterly troubled. He’s harsh, and he’s hopeless, and he loves you so much he’s not totally sure what to do with it all. Sometimes it scratches him like barbs. Maybe that’s why he confuses love and anger so often.

He thinks of his parents — how they were supposed to love him, how maybe they do, how they have a terrible way of showing it, and how he isn’t at all deserving of the way they treat him — and something inside him seethes. It burns somewhere deep within his ribcage and squirms like a feral animal trying to break free.

He feels trapped and he turns violent, like some kind of hurt dog. ‘Cause if he can’t be loved, then he might as well be feared. And sometimes he bites you, the warmhearted stranger willing to love something that doesn’t know how to love itself. And maybe that’s why he snaps at you when he’s so high-strung. 

You love him the most, out of everybody in the whole entire world, and no one could understand all this quite like you do.

“You’re right,” he sighs when he comes down to earth again, arms falling to his sides when his shoulders are no longer tense. 

The shades of red give way to something more golden when he looks at you. It makes his heart twist because you’re still looking at him the same way you were ten minutes ago — like you’re looking at the rest of your life in the flesh.

One more breath, and the worry slips away.

“Yeah, you’re right— it’s just a turkey— everything’s fine.”

You want to comfort him. Your wringing hands ache with the longing to hold him like you were before all this, with his cheek to your chest so your heartbeat can keep him grounded. You’re just not sure if he wants that yet.

So you linger in place and try not to implode with your yearning.

“I can get a storebought one before they come over if you want,” you offer meekly, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I don’t think they’ll know the difference if we just lie and say we made it.”

He laughs again. One snorted breath, but much more genuine this time. A grin blossoms like a pretty flower on his rose-petaled mouth. It’s impossible not to smile back at him.

“Or we can just, like, not say anything, and watch my parents pretend to like it,” he jokes.

“That’s evil,” you say, hiding your giggle behind your palm. “But then we’d probably have to eat it, too— to make it believable and everything, you know? And I don’t think I can put that in my mouth without gagging.” You snort a laugh at yourself, then grow strangely serious as you mumble, “That’s what she said.”

Steve laughs, loud and boyish. It paints the kitchen golden and makes your chest feel all sparkly. “C’mere,” he hums with a grin, throwing his arms out for you. 

You gravitate towards him instantly, like he’s the sun and you’ve just suffered a terribly long winter. You hug him tight accordingly — suffocating, warm, and tender. He holds you back the same. 

His arms curl around your back, wide palms spreading along the length of it. He noses at your hair and presses a gentle kiss there. “Sorry for yelling,” he apologizes, mostly muffled from where he’s holding you so intently. “You forgot. It’s okay. I overreacted.”

It’s still hard for him to apologize sometimes. Even when he’s in the wrong. Especially when he’s in the wrong. He grew up with parents who fought and then acted like nothing happened the next day. There was never any closure. Just bottled up feelings.

It feels good to be wrong — to acknowledge it and to still be loved after.

“I really was trying to help,” you mutter, burying the words into his chest.

Steve nods against you. “I know.”

“I didn’t mean to make it worse—”

“You didn’t make it worse, don’t say that,” Steve interjects before the words can properly leave your mouth. He squeezes you tighter, in hopes it’ll make his words stick more. “You know I’d stress myself to death if you weren’t here.”

“Yeah. And if your parents came home to a corpse, that’d be really morbid,” you murmur gently.

Steve chuckles when he pulls away from you. He unwraps his arms from around you, just to hold your face in his hands. His palms are warm and softly calloused against your cheeks. He swipes his thumbs over the warm apple of them.

“It would be,” he concurs with a nod and a big, dumb grin. His honey eyes sparkle as they melt for you. “I’ll tell them that when they come over— that you singlehandedly saved their son. They’ll have to love you, then.”

He says it like it’s a joke, but it isn’t really. It’s true in a lot of ways. Way more than you know.

“Think they’ll still like me even if you don’t say all that?” you wonder meekly and with your nose scruched, peering up at him with a hopeful gaze.

“Oh. Yeah. Totally,” Steve scoffs without thinking twice. He shrugs like it’s obvious with his face twisted like he’s confused why you’d even ask. “They’ll fall in love with you the second they see you.”

“Well, that’s just dramatic,” you mumble, laughing under your breath. 

You’re not nearly as confident as he is because you have no idea you’re made of flower petals, sunsets, and winter skies — all things delicate, tender, and impossibly loveable.

“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible not to be in love with you,” Steve insists, still cradling your face in his palms. It’s easier than saying that he loves you so much that he’d follow you anywhere — or that the rest of the world could fall apart, and he wouldn’t care as long as you were standing with him. 

“I think you’re biased,” you tease with a quiet smile.

“I know from firsthand experience, babe,” he argues with a rosy smile. “I’m pretty sure I’m an expert on the matter, actually.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

[doromoni]

Burnt pan shenanigans | CL16

Charles Leclerc x chef! reader

warnings : slight cursing

genre : fluff

masterlist

Summary : Charles is “secretly” crushing on the famous celebrity chef … maybe a little too much.

Y/N had no idea why a racing team had reached out to her proposing a collaboration. She for one couldn’t connect cooking or anything of her profession to the sport of high speed car racing. The vague email didn’t help either . Nevertheless, it had piqued her interest and had decided to keep in contact with the Formula 1 team , asking for more details of the project.

She is going to be featured as a special guest for Ferrari’s C2 challenge. Her task is to teach the 2 drivers on how to cook her favorite dish, blindfolded. The only problem was that she knew nothing about what a C2 challenge is and who the drivers where!

Deciding to actually do some form of research to avoid looking stupid and somehow show a professional front to the Ferrari drivers, Y/N had plopped herself on the couch laptop at hand, Y/N had then started to search the web and had clicked on the first video she had saw .

Not long after , her stomach had began to hurt from laughter as the driver , she now knew was named Charles confidently shout “ Chicken!” To what clearly was an emoji of a turkey.

One video turned to into two , and two became four. Without her knowing she had binged every episode of C2. What can you say? You were hooked — how can you not? The drivers are adorable.

“ Wow they are freakishly gorgeous” Y/N tilted her head as she stared at the two Ferrari drivers. They were both equally captivating in their own way but she can’t help but gravitate towards the other —The one with blue eyes, a dreamy smile and dazzling hair.

—

***

” once the side of the chicken gets to that delicate caramelized brown, and you can smell the aroma in the air — it means that it is seared and it’s time to flip it to the the other side! ”

Charles’ eyes never left the phone screen that was balancing on top of his kitchen island , his full attention on Y/N who gliding gracefully and looking so effortless as she cooked.

The sound of the smoke alarm blared through his apartment , snapping Charles away from his daydreaming; as puffs of smoke covered parts of his kitchen . Quickly closing the stove and turning off the fire alarm , for the 3rd time this month. Charles was really a lost case when it came to cooking.

A soft smile placed itself on his lips , as your voice continued to project from his phone. You made everything look so simple and easy , even Charles thought he could do it! He continued to watch the beautiful girl work— completely forgetting the burnt chicken that was still on the pan.

“What are you doing?” A male voice suddenly came from behind

“Juste ciel! You scared me!!” Charles exclaimed, scared for his life as he held his chest.

Turning around to see his Ferrari teammate, Carlos Sainz, folding in half as he cried from laughter, clutching his stomach . Charles continued to curse the Latino driver in the languages hr knew— throwing the kitchen towel to the man who was still giggling.

“Why are you even here Carlos?” Charles had asked seeing that his teammate started to gather himself together.

“Nancy wanted to make sure that you got her texts, since you are clueless by my arrival— when I texted you that I was coming, I assume you didn’t see her text. No?” Carlos said, wiping the remaining tear stains from his cheek.

picking up his phone , and saw that it was actually on do not disturb.

“She said that we are needed earlier than expected tomorrow, we’ll be filming a lengthy C2 Challenge.”

A groan escaped the Monegasque at the thought of another day filled with media and journalists. Racing was supposed to be just that , racing . Not reporters hounding them about their lives — to that rolled he had rolled his eyes . Ruffling his hair out of frustration,

“Oh, don’t groan , I think you’ll particularly like tomorrow “ There was a dubious grin present on the Spanish driver … He knows something that Charles did not.

“What is it Carlos? Tell me, come onnnnnn” Charles badgered.

“Just be early tomorrow~ you’ll be surprised! Hehehe. Ciao , charles~” and with that the Spaniard was out.

***

“WHAT?! Y/N L/N?! TODAY? Huh??” Shocked was an understatement to describe the Monegasque driver .

Ferrari and it’s team knew Charles’ little crush for the chef, and they decided to surprise him with her presence.

Still confused Charles spouted out questions to Nancy — their pr manager.

“What do you mean y/n will be in the C2 challenge?”

“Just that, Charles. Ms. Y/n was invited to host this week’s C2 Challenge”

“You’re not serious…. Right??” Charles was downright panicked. His emotions spilling everywhere— excitement, fear, worry, happiness … he was a mess, and the whole team was giggling amongst themselves.

“When will she arri—“ Charles was not able to finish his sentence, when he heard the voice that owned his admiration.

“Hi everyone! My name is Y/N ~ let’s enjoy our time together, yes?”

And at the sight of her smile , oh boy… Charles Leclerc was a goner.

A/N:

Im not sure if a part 2 is needed 😮‍💨 any thoughts? should I write a pt 2 or just leave it as a oneshot ?

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #ferrari #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #cl16 imagine #cl16 x y/n #cl16 #cl16 fluff #cl16 one shot #charles lechair #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic

[incessanttranquility]

—

Gehenna's First Ever Cook-Off! (Part 3.2)

—

LTD!MC : Hello everyone and welcome back to our cook-off, earlier was a pretty huge blast as new contestants have joined the cook-off! Since there are so many of them, we have decided to group them into pairs, well, except for one which is a group of 3, but it doesn't matter anyway! Team Bloody Tea and Books have changed their name into Team Cats and Tea which makes sense, since there are two angry cats and one demon who just likes tea.. but anyways! Moving on, our rating system has changed as can be rate from 1 to 10 instead.

But now, we shall now start once again! And our contestants will be cooking lunch for our judges! Who will be the champion of this cook-off? Who will be the winner! Let us find out once the scores of all contestants are finalized! But forget about that for now, we have a cook-off to continue, now, let the cook-off continue!

—

Team Solomon:

OM!Solomon : Looks like our dish will look delicious :D

WHB!Solomon : I agree, I think it looks appetizing :]

*Cooking pot suddenly explodes.*

WHB!Solomon : Our dish was way too appetizing that the pot exploded :]

OM!Solomon : Agreed :D

WHB!Solomon : Now that it's done, we should put it in a bowl now :] *reaches out for a bowl*

OM!Solomon : Thanks :3 *puts the totally amazing dish of team Solomon on the plate.*

*Plate melts, the cooking table now also has a hole on it.*

OM!Solomon : Oh, looks like we have to make a new dish D:

WHB!Solomon : It's alright, we still have time to make a new one :3

OM!Solomon : Okay :D

—

Team Cats and Tea (previously named Bloody Tea and Books) :

OM!Satan : What the fuck even is that?! It doesn't even look fucking edible!

WHB!Satan : What the fuck did you just say?!

*The two continued to argue, like cats, obviously, both act like cats, and now they're scratching each other, like cats, Sitri is obviously trying to de-escalate the argument but there's no use, pretty much wasting their time to cook.*

—

Team Best friends :

Ppyong : Ooh! Your cooking smells very delicious, aye!

Minhyeok : I know, they always tell me it does, Ppyong, can you give me the pepper shaker real quick?

Ppyong : Sure, aye!

Minhyeok : Thank you, Ppyong.

Ppyong : You're welcome, aye! We're best friends, afterall!

Minhyeok : Once I'm done cooking, I can help you cook your dish <D

Ppyong : Hwahh! I never thought you would do this for me!! Thank you so so much! *Starts tearing up.*

Minhyeok : No need to thank me, we're besties, afterall!

Ppyong : Yes, of course we are! :D

*Ting!*

Minhyeok : Oh, it seems that the turkey is ready, Ppyong, I'll help you make the gravy after we're done making the mashed potatoes.

Ppyong : Alright then! I'll get the ingredients for the gravy so we don't need to rush, aye!

—

Team Mammon :

OM!Mammon : ..Are we really gon' feed GOLD to 'em..?

WHB!Mammon : Steak covered in edible paper gold, of course :D

OM!Mammon : Alright, alright, now that we're done, what are we gon' do now?

WHB!Mammon : Treasures, gold, money, you know :]

OM!Mammon : Hell yeah! Now we're talkin' !

—

Team Envy :

OM!Leviathan : ..I don't understand why you're jealous of me... I just cooked some ramen with eggs and green onions.

WHB!Leviathan : ..Tch. *Rolls eyes.*

OM!Leviathan : Oh, right, were both the embodiment of envy.. but besides that, you're literally just jealous of yourself but different..

WHB!Leviathan : Still. *Glares

OM!Leviathan : ..Never thought that I'm the same person as this guy but different...

—

LTD!MC : Alrighty! Times up! Contestants, please present your dishes! Up first is Team Cats and Tea!

—

OM!Satan : ...Here. *Face is filled with scratches, same goes for WHB!Satan, welp, it's their fault that they just fought while everyone else cooked, at least Sitri is with them.*

OM!MC : This omelette looks pretty good, the orange juice is nice.

WHB!MC : ..It's just this burnt fish, still looks like that pancake that Satan made for me, but it's alright, he'll learn how to cook one day...

LTD!MC : Alright judges, what would you rate this dish?

OM!MC : We're going to give it a 7 out of 10.

LTD!MC : Great, and now combining Sitri and Satan's score, their total score is now 14. Next contestants, please.

—

Minhyeok : We cooked turkey, mashed potatoes, and chicken curry, we also made gravy.

Ppyong : We hope you guys enjoy what we made, aye!

WHB!MC : This isn't just a dish this is a full-course meal. *Nom.*

OM!MC : When WHB!MC said that you're their wife, they weren't bluffing, but aside from that, this is so good.

LTD!MC : My mouth is literally watering right now, but anyways, judges, what would you rate this, dish, I mean- full-course meal?

WHB!MC : 10/10, no doubt, no hesitation, no second thoughts, 10/10.

LTD!MC : Great, Team Best friends total score is 15. Next contestants, please.

—

WHB!Mammon : We made steak with edible paper gold :D

OM!MC : This is actually pretty good to be honest.

WHB!MC : *Nom.* Yum, gold steak tastes pretty good.

LTD!MC : Alright judges, what would you rate this fish?

WHB!MC : Gonna give it a 9/10.

LTD!MC : Great, Team Mammon's total score is 9. Last contestants, please.

—

OM!Leviathan : ...Two bowls of ramen with eggs and green onions coming right up, also please help me... He's been glaring at me ever since this round started and I don't know what to do.

WHB!Leviathan : *Still glaring at OM!Leviathan, poor otaku, he's trying his best not to cry.*

WHB!MC : ..Anyways, this is a really good bowl of ramen that I've had this round.

OM!MC : *Nom.* Yummy.

LTD!MC : Alright judges, what would you rate this dish?

WHB!MC : We're also gonna give it a 9/10.

LTD!MC : Great, that brings Team Mammon and Team Envy tied, with Team Best friends being in the lead and Team Cats and Tea being the second.

—

Sitri : ..Grr... That human, just you wait for next round.

*OM!Satan and WHB!Satan are just angrily staring at each other, not sure if their cat fight from earlier will continue.*

Ppyong : Looks like we're in the lead, aye!

Minhyeok : Mhm, we'll have to prepare for the final round, Ppyong.

Ppyong : Of course we'll have too! We'll win this as besties!

*OM!Mammon and WHB!Mammon are still talking about treasures, gold, money, with a mix of OM!Leviathan and WHB!Leviathan.*

WHB!Mammon : That guy is always jealous of everything, he's even jealous of himself sometimes.

OM!Mammon : Pfft, hahaha!

OM!Leviathan : ...You've been glaring at me for almost an hour now, it's as if you're having beef with me.

WHB!Leviathan : Tch.

—

LTD!MC : Now that this round is over, let's have a word from some of our guests once again!

MM!MC : My man Minhyeok is on the lead once again, he's definitely gonna win, no doubt.

TWST!Yuu : Minhyeok and Ppyong didn't just serve, they devoured.

Malleus : Child of Man, do you want more popcorn?

TWST!Yuu : Sure! Thanks, tsunotaro!

Malleus : You're welcome, Child of Man.

WHB!Beelzebub : Pfft, bwahahahaha! Levi looks so fucking jealous right now! Hahahaha!

Bael : Your Majesty Beelzebub, you still have work to do.

WHB!Beelzebub : I'll do it later, promise!

Bael : ... *Sighs.*

—

LTD!MC : Stay tuned for our last and final round! Who will be the champion of this cook-off?! We shall find out later on! Once again, I am your host, and this is Gehenna's First Ever Cook-Off!

Note : FINALLY I AM DONEEEE, I actually didn't realize that I posted this UNFINISHED so I had to edit it, @takitafulily also already reposted it so I decided to tag her again so sorry about that mootie😭

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.1

#prettybusy what in “hell” is bad? #what in hell is bad #disney twisted wonderland #mc obey me #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #what in hell is bad satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #mystic messenger #mystic messenger mc #lovetodo mc #lovetodo #twisted wonderland malleus #obey me #obm leviathan #obm mammon #whb minhyeok #whb beelzebub #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb mc #whb ppyong #whb sitri #whb bael

[getmeoutofhell]

Mickey Altieri x f reader

summary: mickey has a gift for you.

warnings: just mickey being mickey.

a/n: this takes place with the whole gf group. but this is for my BFF helloooo frennn. also happy eve y’all!!

“Merry christmas everyone!!” you said as you walked into the living room.

you were so excited today, the reason being is because you had mickey for secret santa.

“merry christmas y/n.” ethan said to you, handing you a small bag which you assumed was a gift from him.

“you dumb brain we aren’t supposed to do the secret santa until after we eat!” roman told him, slightly annoyed.

“ohhh right, my bad. sorry y/n pretend this never happened.” ethan then walked away to the christmas tree to put his gift back on the floor.

“okay ethan.” you said in between laughter.

you had your gift in your hand. no surprise you actually pulled mickeys name for the secret santa. you thought he some how did it on purpose, but you didn’t question it.

you and mickey had pretty strong feelings for each other for a while. you wouldn’t say he loved you, but you knew you loved him.

you saw stu put his gift on the floor under the tree, hiding it behind a bigger present.

“i know i was supposed to just get one gift. but the person i got deserves more than one.”

you knew immediately he picked billy or ambers name.

“you must have gotten billy or ambers name since you saying they deserve more than one.”

stu then put his index finger to his lips, making a shh sound and waking away. you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“oh my god what’s that smell?” it was jill. she came and sat next to you in the couch.

“it’s mickey, charlie, and richie burning up the fucking turkey.” roman told her.

“that does stink damn.” you said, laughing at the end.

“no surprise it’s those three.” jill added.

*time skip 1 hour*

“okay guys, it’s time to come eat at the table. hurry up!” roman yelled to everybody.

you went and sat at the seat close to the end of the table. to your surprise mickey came and sat next to you.

“hey beautiful.” he smiled at you.

“oh! hey mickey, merry christmas.” you felt your body get a little warm from embarrassment, so you tried to avoid eye contact with him. no matter how many times you guys talked, his voice still make you a nervous wreck.

“merry christmas y/n.” you notice he had a christmas hat on, with an ugly sweater.

“nice sweater.” you tried to avoid the awkwardness with a joking compliment.

“thanks.” he chuckled.

about 5 seconds later everyone else started walking in the room, finding a seat to sit in.

ethan sat on your right, as mickey was on your left.

a little bit later, charlie and roman brought out the turkey and ham and sat them on the table. then went back into the kitchen and grabbed to rest of the food.

“thank god the food is done, i’m literally starving.” amber said. “that turkey looks and smells burnt.” jill stated, looking at it with disgust.

“let’s be nice jill, i bet they tried their best, right mickey?” you turned to mickey, waiting for an answer. “uhhh, yes?” you laughed.

“i guess not then, continue the slander jill.” jill laughed at your comment.

“okay guys let’s now eat.” roman told everyone.

as your enjoying your food, you look over at mickey, who was already looking at you. “is something wrong?” you asked concerned.

“do you know how pretty you are? like seriously.” he smiles. you feel your whole face get hot and you look away and avoid eye contact once again. “uhhh, i don’t know what to say to that. thanks i guess?” he then puts his hand on yours, rubbing it softly.

stu notices, and makes a shocked face. “ohhhh, the two love bugs are back at it.” he laughed and then stuffed his face with more food.

you felt your body heat up again, staring at your plate nervously. you turned to look at mickey, who’s face was a tiny bit red. “don’t do the most stu.” he said.

now it’s after dinner, and time to open the secret santa gifts. you were kinda excited to see what ethan had got you. but you were more excited to show mickey the gift you got him.

“alright let’s pass the gifts around. ethan…how about you go first. since you already spoiled who you got a gift for.” roman stated.

ethan mumbled a “my bad” and went and grabbed the gift with your name on it, and then looked for the one with his name.

“ohh, i wonder who got me this gift. y/n was it you?” he handed you your gift, and then sat down and opened his.

“maybe. maybe not.” you teased him, knowing you didn’t get his name. “okay so, this is ambers.” roman started handing the gifts to who they belong to. he eventually handed mickey his gift, then going to sit down.

you watch as everyone opens their gifts, all enjoying and making jokes with each other. “aren’t you gonna open your gift y/n?” mickey asked you, looking at you then the gift. “yeah! wait, you got me a gift?” you tried to remove the awkwardness by laughing. “special gift for a special girl.” he chuckles. you look inside the bag to find a box. you then look at him for a second before grabbing the box and reading it.

it was titled ‘my love’.

you then opened the box to see what was inside, only to find pictures of you during your everyday life. “do you like it princess?” he asked you. you took a minute to process what you were looking at, picking up and looking through the pictures. there was pictures of you in your pjs, and even pictures of you in the living room by yourself. “how?” you thought. “what…why? i appreciate the gift, it’s just…” you stared at the pictures. he put his hand on your knee. “now do you believe i love you?” you only started at him in disbelief, but felt your face and body heat up. maybe he does love you?

AHH I HOPE YOU LOVE THISSSS

#slashers x reader #slashers #slashers x y/n #ghostface x reader #mickey altieri #mickey altieri x reader #i love you frennnn

[tightjeansjavi]

That Girl is a Problem

Part 2: “Angel Baby”

(AU street racing! Joel x f! tattoo artist reader)

A/N: I don’t know jack shit about cars but @pedgeitopascal knows I did research just for this chapter alone LOL 🤠 I went back and forth on what kinda car I wanted Joel to race in and this is what I came up with. Thank you so much for the feedback on chapter 1! This story is already sooo much fun for me to write xx

~word count: 1.9k~

Summary: Joel Miller & Tommy Miller left their Texas homestead seeking new thrills. They find themselves working at an auto body shop on Hollywood Blvd. Joel meets you, a self taught tattoo artist working on the strip. You might be just the adrenaline rush that he was searching for. Or, his ultimate heartbreak.

Warnings: Early 1990’s Los Angeles violence/scandals. Drug use, drinking, smoking, mentions of tattooing and needles, street racing, infidelity, adrenaline junkies, Joel & reader have emotional baggage, reader is a badass, love triangle between reader, Joel, and readers boyfriend, flirting, teasing, banter, jealousy, rage, trauma, dark themes, domestic emotional/physical abuse from readers boyfriend, pining, unrequited feelings, excessive drinking/drug use, sustained injuries from street racing, bar fights, jealous! Joel, darkish! Joel, possessive! Joel, eventual smut, consent, eventual established relationship, no use of (y/n) readers nickname is Angel, (+18) minors dni!

That Girl is a Problem Playlist:

𝙄'𝙢 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡.

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚...

𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.

Los Angeles, California: Summer of 1993

“You’ll never guess where I just was.” Joel strode into the open garage area of the auto body shop with a deli sandwich and cold bottle of coke in his hand. He leaned back against the tool bench as he took a bite from the sandwich, crossing ankles over one another casually.

“The zoo?” Tommy, the younger Miller brother grumbled from underneath the car he was working on. It needed an oil change desperately and the stupid teen that dropped it off earlier was being a prick about the whole thing.

“No, you asshat. Not the fuckin’ zoo Tommy.” Joel spoke with a mouthful of turkey from his sandwich.

Tommy cursed under his breath as he rolled himself out from under the car. His hands and shirt were covered in grit and grease and he smelled of burnt oil. “So then go on and spit it out man. Where did you venture off to?” Tommy grabbed a rag to wipe his hands off, sitting up on the bench as he looked over at his older brother.

“Well, I found a tattoo shop just a few blocks from here. It’s called ‘Sinful Colors’ and a super cool chick owns the gig. That ain’t even the best part. I signed up for some street racing while I was there. Guess it's a thing folks around here do every Friday and Saturday on the Hollywood strip.” Joel took a refreshing sip of his ice cold coke. Bottled coke was always the best. Hands down, nothing compared to it.

“A tattoo shop owned by a super cool chick huh? Sounds like something right up your alley Joel. What the hell do ya mean you signed up for street racing? You don’t have a car.”

“She’s fucking gorgeous too Tommy. I’m talkin’ like drop dead fucking beautiful. She is completely tatted up too. The kicker is she’s got a boyfriend that honestly sounds like a total tool. Anyway, she said all you need to race is a car, or a bike. I got a bike so—”

“Drop dead fucking gorgeous huh? Well, of course she’s taken man. All the good ones are. She’s tatted up too? Joel, you’re not gonna fuckin’ race with your bike. You know how fuckin’ insane that sounds? I ain’t about to bring you back home in a fuckin’ body bag. I know you’re searching for a good thrill and all but I ain’t about to let you die out here just cause you wanna impress some chick you just met.”

“I don’t think her boyfriend is really gonna pose a problem for me. She seemed to forget all about him when I showed up. Okay, not entirely but she was 100% flirting with me Tommy. She called me handsome and a pretty boy. She was totally checkin’ me out too. What the hell else am I supposed to drive if I wanna race?”

“Joel, she’s taken. I’m all for you healing in your own way from—” Tommy was cut off by his brother talking over him.

“Alright. I’m gonna stop ya right there before you say her name. Don’t do it Tommy, please.” Joel stared his brother down threateningly. He raised his eyebrow in his direction as if to challenge him to continue.

Seeking thrills wasn’t the only reason why Joel and Tommy moved out to California. Joel had an ex back in Texas. Delaney, Joel’s highschool sweetheart. They were engaged and set to be married in the summer. She was the love of his life, or so he thought. He caught her fucking his best friend in their home. In his bed. Joel had a fun trip to jail for the night after beating the shit out of his ex-best friend. He deserved it after all. Especially after Joel found out that Delaney was having a fucking affair for 6 months. 6 fucking months. After Tommy bailed him out the following morning, the two brothers mutually decided it was time to get the hell out of dodge. Thus, landing them in the sunny City of Angels.

The truth was, Joel was heartbroken. He loved Delaney and he thought that she was his endgame. The woman he was gonna marry and have kids with one day. Fuck her. He didn’t want to waste his breath over her any longer. He gave her everything, his all and how did she repay him? Oh, right. Having an affair with his best friend for 6 fucking months. So yes, Joel’s heart was pretty much fucking smashed into tiny little pieces but he refused to let his past rule him. Los Angeles was fresh, new, exciting, and he fully was ready to take life by horns again.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t say her name, okay? I just think you should be careful with this chick. Don’t go and get yourself caught up in this Joel. I don’t want to see you hurt again is all. You’ve been through enough as it is. The last thing you need is some pretty thing playin’ with your heart. That’s all I’m sayin’ as your brother.” Tommy spoke sincerely.

Joel let out a grumble of annoyance. He knew Tommy was probably right about you. You were a bright red fucking flag in his books. The only problem was that Joel was a creature of habit, like most human beings were. A fatal flaw to possess. You were off limits, sure. That wasn’t going to stop him from seeing you. He felt like a moth drawn to a flame. A really hot, scalding, touch it and you will shrivel up and die on the spot, flame. Fuck it. He had nothing to lose, other than his pride and ego.

“I’ll be careful, okay Tommy? I ain’t goin’ and gettin’ my heart invested in nothin’. She’s just real easy on the eyes. I can just admire her from a distance and not cause any problems. Kay?”

Tommy let out a sigh as he looked at his brother, shaking his head. “Yeah, alright Joel. Whatever you say. Now about this race, you’re not entering with your bike man. I will 100% be putting my foot down about that bullshit.”

“What’s this you kids talkin’ about a race?” Wilson, the old man that owned the auto body shop, leaned against the opened garage door, cigarette dangling from his lips. “Your brother is right Joel. You can’t enter your bike into a street race. She’s fast, sure. You will end up getting yourself killed out there though.”

“With all due respect sir—” Joel was cut off by the old man sending a glare in his direction.

“Did I say you could talk, boy? You didn’t let me finish. You can’t race on your bike but I got just the thing you can race in. She’s a real beauty too.” The old man flicked his cigarette to the side before gesturing to the two Miller brothers to follow him.

Joel gave his brother a slight shrug of his shoulders before they followed the old man to another part of the shop. One that was seemingly off limits, till now. The car was covered with a thick tan tarp that was covered in dust and debris from sitting in the garage for so long. “So she might need a bit of work. Nothing major and mostly just cosmetic. Paint touch ups here and there but she runs fast, and smooth.”

“Are you really offering me a car right now Wilson?” Joel asked in disbelief.

“I sure as hell am, sonny. This baby hasn’t seen the light of day in a long time. You’ll love her, I can promise you that.” The old man pulled the tarp down, revealing a cherry red, 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz.

Joel and Tommy’s eyes bugged out of their fucking skulls when they realized just what make and model of car this was. “Sir, you do realize what the fuck you have here, right? Holy fucking shit.” Both the miller boys said in unison.

“A 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz.” Wilson deadpanned to the younger men.

“You seriously want me to race in this? Holy fuck. Wait, aren’t these kinds of races usually done with more modern sports cars? Not that she ain’t fast or anythin.’”

“The hell else are you gonna race in, kid? The races around here don’t use any of those crapshoot fancy modern sports cars. Only vintage sports cars and motorcycles can race. Didn’t Angel tell you the rules son?”

Joel was already running his fingers across the untouched red and white leather seats. Feeling how smooth they were against his skin. His head snapped in the old man’s direction, looking at him like he had suddenly grown 5 heads. “Hold on just a second there. You know Angel?”

“Do I look like I was just born yesterday? Course I know Angel. Her boyfriend is one of my local clients here and her dad endorsed my shop here.”

Joel grumbled under his breath, shaking his head a little. So, you really were that well known around here huh? “So you’re just gonna hand this beauty over to me? Sir, this car is worth a fucking fortune.”

“Well, like I said, she needs a little work. Nothing you two boys can’t handle. I know how much she’s worth. Could easily sell her off to one of those fancy smancy celebs around here for 3 times the amount I paid for her. If I do that, she just sits around like a collectors item and never sees the light of day. She deserves so much better than that.”

“So what is she gonna cost me? I don’t have much to offer unfortunately so I don’t even know if I can afford her—”

“She ain’t costin’ you a pretty penny, Joel. She’s all yours. Just take good care of her and then we won’t have any issues. Got it?”

“You got yourself a deal, Wilson. I promise I’ll take extra good care of her.”

“I know you will. Keys are in the glovebox. Why don’t you boys go take her out for a spin? See how she purrs.” The old man shot the two Miller brothers a wink before he headed back to his office.

“Holy fucking shit, Tommy! Did that seriously just happen? I must be dreaming. This is fucking insane.”

“Shut up and get the keys Joel! You heard the old man, let’s see how this babe purrs!” Tommy was already hopping in the passenger seat while Joel climbed into the driver's seat. Both brothers looked like two giddy kids in a candy shop as Joel inserted the key into the ignition as the engine purred to life. He couldn’t help but rev the engine a bit, just to see what she was capable of.

He backed the car out onto Hollywood blvd and drove right past your shop. You were working on Joel’s sketch for his knuckle tats when a blur of bright, cherry red zoomed past the shop's window. You had no idea who the hell was driving the car, but the one thing you did know was that the driver had to be undeniably hot.

After taking her for a joy ride through the Hollywood Hills, the Miller brothers returned to the shop, pumped full of adrenaline. After a few paint touch ups, and an engine check, she was good to go. Joel, however, wanted to add just a bit of flare. While Tommy was on his break, his older brother had taken it upon himself to add a decal on one of the wings on the back of the car. Angel Baby. How perfectly fitting.

Tag List:@chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @lovers-liability @korynnekorynne @loquaciousferret @cutesyscreenname @atinylittlepain @yazsos @kirsteng42 @777-wonders @last-girl @pedgeitopascalreads @tinygarbage @wonder-harley @casa-boiardi @alwaysdjarin @bellaramseygfsblog

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller the last of us #dark!joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #tommy miller #AU joel Miller #street racing! joel #tattoo! joel #dark joel miller #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #that girl is a problem #tight jeans javi

[bitch-for-a-rainbow]

Zor-El's Return

Personally, I found Zor-El's acclimation to Earth a little unsatisfying, so here's a fic that's been sitting in my drafts for over a year.

The first thing Zor-El notices about this planet is that it is bright. Kara blinks in the sudden sunlight as well, so he brushes it off as just another change from the phantom zone. Zor-El has been to planets with different colored suns before: red, blue, and once, briefly, a planet orbiting a yellow sun. That planet had been so far from its star that there’d been no effects on his body (He’d also never gotten direct sunlight due to the need for constant atmospheric and temperature control.) In any case, his previous experience has yet to get rid of the wrongness he feels when he looks out on a planet without a red star. The sky is a color he thinks must be blue, but it’s so bright, so saturated, it hurts to look at. Kara has no trouble. She looks straight up into that blinding sky and beams.

The planet smells weird too. Slightly burnt. And tangy in a way that makes his nose itch. Kara inhales deeply, like there’s not enough air in the world to fill her lungs. Zor-El thinks this might have been justified because she’s just begun to exhale when the one with red hair— Alex, he remembers— starts pulling her inside to something called a sunbed. It restores her powers and helps her heal, the girl in the strange white and— blue?— jumpsuit explains. She says her name is Nia. He asks if he’s supposed to go to the sunbed too. Nia shrugs. Alex said that would be a bad idea— and she’s usually right about this stuff. A large man with dark skin and eyes a little more calculating than Zor-El is entirely comfortable with, explains further. Your powers can be disorienting. Kara has experience, so we can afford to recharge her quickly. It’s safer for you and for us if we let this go slowly. Over the next hour or so, Nia explains the powers he is to develop. Kara had given him a brief description in the Phantom Zone but had included none of the dramatic anecdotes of her heroic— or not so heroic feats. Zor-El supposes that using heat vision to crisp meat is as valid a use as any. He does have to ask for clarification as to what, exactly, a “turkey” is. Nia pulls up a photo on some device she was keeping in her back pocket. Zor-El thinks he preferred Earth before he learned about the turkey.

… His powers come in gradually— until they don’t. He can manage the slowly increasing strength with some concentration, but there is nothing he can do when Nia calls out, and he looks up to respond, and suddenly he’s looking at the inside of her skull. Zor-El yells, and others come into the room. He doesn’t know who they are— can’t identify them from their masses of bone and twisting ligaments. He tries to cover his eyes but the only thing telling him his hands are pressed against his face is the feeling of his nails digging into his forehead. He falls to his knees, and the floor cracks beneath him.  Someone is giving orders— a woman, her voice quiet but sharp— and then something heavy— something that would have been heavy an hour ago— drops over his head and shoulders. 

He can’t see. Zor-El is shaking— he knows he’s shaking, and his breaths are ragged. He doesn’t dare to take his hands away from his eyes or to shift the blanket that hangs over his body. The woman is talking to him now, voice much more gentle than it had been a minute ago. It’s alright, she says. It’s alright. 

That was your X-Ray vision. The blanket over you is lead-lined, so you can’t see through it. We’ve got some glasses that are like it. You can put them on when you feel up to it. Zor-El means to say he’s fine, that he’s going to take off the blanket, and to please hand him the glasses. But all that comes out of his mouth is a strangled grunt, which the woman seems to understand just as well. J’onn is getting them. We’ll just keep the blanket on for a little longer.  You’re doing good, she says. You’re doing so well. 

She keeps murmuring to him until heavy footfalls sound at the edge of the blanket, and they pull it off. He doesn’t have time to see their skinless bodies before a pair of slightly too small glasses are squished onto his face. He blinks, and Alex Danvers is peering down at him with more tenderness than he’s ever seen her give. I’m okay, he pants out. I’m okay. She nods, and the moment is gone. 

The noise doesn’t come as suddenly. It grows slowly, a building pulse in his ears that makes his teeth rattle. A vehicle crashes somewhere 4 streets over, and Zor-El puts his hand through a desk. J’onn and Alex glance at him but say nothing. Nia looks concerned. A man they all call Brainy remarks on needing to build tables out of a stronger alloy with all the “peoples of enhanced strength” around, and a woman over by the computers, he does not know her name— they have not been introduced— eyes him as he tries to stand the table back up. She has a strange look in her eyes, one he doesn’t understand. It makes his skin crawl.  … Earth is loud, harsh, and abrasive. The sounds dig at his ears, and every color seems to grate at his eyes. 

He tries to imagine being a child here.  He prays to Rao for forgiveness.  … Kara tells him of her failure to raise Kal-El. He does not forgive her for this. How could he ever have blamed her at all?

Sometimes, silently, he is glad of Kara’s delay. Glad that she had landed with her cousin already grown. Zor-El does not know these people who took in his nephew, these Kents. They’re good people, Kara had said, a never-ending refrain. They’re good people. He wonders if they would have been quite so willing to take in— to protect— the baby, if his daughter had been with it. His daughter and her more obvious… differences. 

He wonders why they didn’t take her in when she arrived. Martha was old, Kara says. And Jonathan dead. Besides, I came with unusual challenges.  … In the phantom zone, he had shrugged it off. Children do grow up, after all, and that place, it… changes people. 

But he knew it was more than that. 

He remembers his Kara. His Kara would flit about the room, like gravity lost its hold, like there was too much energy in her body, and she had to move, had to jump from person to person, bounce from experiment to experiment, mind whirling a hundred miles an hour. 

This Kara is still. She does move a little, still bounces and skips more than any of the others he has met— but her movements have a forced weight now, each step as careful and precise as it is buoyant. 

She doesn’t experiment anymore either.  … When Kara had told him of her arrival on Earth, she had not mentioned Fort Rozz. When one of her friends finally mentions it offhand, she goes stiff, and turns her face from his. When he does catch a glimpse of her expression, it is twisted with shame. Zor-El is not sure whether it is aimed at herself or at him.

Alex stares at him often— and doesn’t look away when he notices. Her eyes are cold and hard. She reminds him uncomfortably of Astra, especially when Kara is there, soaking up her attention, and the ice in Alex' eyes just begins to melt. Then she looks at him again and all the warmth is sucked from the room. Looking into her eyes, he sees hatred. Kara notices. She says nothing. Her eyes are colder than they used to be too.

#supergirl #kara danvers #alex danvers #Zor el #supergirl 6x08

[vellichorphic]

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

note: sorry for the lack of posts. thanksgiving had me busy haha. these are extremely rushed but i hope you enjoy them!

“pass the gravy.”

“it’s fucking burnt.”

“you need a break.”

“this turkey is raw…”

“thank you for cooking!”

“i’m thankful for myself.”

“this tastes store-bought.”

“god, i’m so hungry/tired.”

“this food better be good.”

“compliments to the chef.”

“you have to cook next year.”

“i had fun cooking with you!”

“i’m thankful for you cooking.”

“is the food done yet?” “i wish.”

“fuck, i forgot insert ingredient.”

“sorry the house is kinda messy.”

“this food is actually pretty good.”

“do you smell something burning?”

“i’m just excited to watch football.”

“do you want me to fix your plate?”

“i made extra insert food just for you.”

“your kitchen’s a mess.” “i wonder why.”

“i’m thankful for this holiday being over.”

“what does thanksgiving even celebrate?”

“i’m happy to spend this holiday with you guys.”

“get whatever food you want, i’m going to sleep.”

“i’m thankful for you not burning down our house.”

“if i cook, i’m gonna eat it all in the process.”

“i feel like santa clause, waking this early just to cook.”

“i cooked too much, i need a break.” “you just opened a can.”

“three in the morning, who the fuck wakes up at three in the morning to cook?”

#.vellichorphic #thanksgiving #sentence starters #rp meme #roleplay meme

[thewritingofspencerrose]

Christmas of 1994 (chapter two)

"We're going out to eat, aren't we?" Charlie asks me as The Grinch plays in front of us, smoke billowing from the kitchen behind us, the turkey far past burnt.

"We had to give Dad one final chance to cook. I'll cover next year," I promise, seeing the dreadful look in his eyes. This is year two that Dad has burnt dinner, the reason why we have the fire extinguisher he is using now, in an attempt to not have to call the fire department once again.

"Okay," Dad begins, coming out covered in soot and entirely disheveled. "We're going to have to go out, there is no saving that bird. Anyone know anywhere that's open at..."

"8:15 on Christmas Eve?" I supply.

And that's how we ended up pulling into Dennys, Charlie in his little Christmas sweater that could have only been picked out by Neil, Dad in fresh clothes, however still smelling like smoke, and me, red plaid pants still on and a black sweater I stole from Dad's closet enveloping my small frame.

"I don't like Denny's," Charlie mumbles glumly, not thrilled in the slightest at our location as we walk towards the front door.

"Come on Sport, it's an American institution!" Dad tries to encourage, holding the door for us to enter before following us himself.

"Are you with Hatsutashi?" The waitress, Judy according to her tag, asks me, looking over the three of us.

"No, our dad burnt our Turkey," Charlie answers honestly, her nodding, like this is an entirely common occurence. And it must be, because as she grabs three menus and leads us away towards a table, you can see at least four other dads sitting around with their kids.

"What can I get you to drink?" Judy asks, completely disinterested in, well, everything.

"Can we get three egg nogs and -"

"We're out," She interrupts Dad, him nodding slightly.

"Then a cup of coffee, decaf," Dad corrects, looking over to Charlie and I.

"Make that two," I request, looking over the drinks menu, "And a glass of chocolate milk for him."

"We're out."

"Plain milk's fine," Charlie offers, not looking up from his menu.

"I'll be right back with those," Judy assures, walking away to grab our drinks and leaving us to pick out dinner.

"At least we know they got hot apple pie," Dad tries to lighten Charlie's sour mood, leaning forward with a smile.

"We did," Judy's monotone voice calls from somewhere, earning a roll of my eyes.

This is just brilliant. I am so making dinner next year.

#bernard the elf x reader #bernard the elf #the santa clause #original character #the writing of spencer rose #christmas time

[melikedanika]

Ignorance is bliss - but it's also a bitch. Am I the only one whose been wondering how all the pieces fit?

►GENERAL INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Melike Jafrin Danika NICKNAME(S): Mel, MJ LABEL: The Aesthete AGE: 30 DATE OF BIRTH: September 9, 1993 ZODIAC: Virgo Sun, Cancer Rising, Gemini Moon GENDER & PRONOUNS: Female; She/Her HERITAGE: Turkish, Arab, Lebanese SPOKEN LANGUAGE(S): English, Turkish OCCUPATION: Interior Designer SEXUALITY & ROMANCE: Bisexual; Biromantic

► APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Pinar Deniz HEIGHT: 5'6" WEIGHT: 132 lbs. DOMINANT HAND: Left HAIR COLOR: Brown EYE COLOR: Hazel SCARS: Fingers from being burnt by hot glue gun (barely noticeable) TATTOOS: None.

►PERSONALITY

POSITIVE TRAITS: Adroit, Romantic, Loyal, Brave, Compassionate, Passionate, Ambitious, Benevolent, Athletic. NEGATIVE TRAITS: Enigmatic, Guarded, Sensitive, Stubborn, Easily Bored, Perfectionistic, Detached. LIKES: Cafes, the sound of records playing, the smell of a new book and the smell of rain, astronomy, nature, cable-knit sweaters, the city lights, perfectly-done ponytails, old drive-ins, traveling, art museums, Shakespeare, Van Gogh, deep conversations, road trips, poetry, midnight runs. DISLIKES: Being told what to do, confrontation, being the first to show up, being the last to show up, not being taken seriously, someone underestimating her, the cold, feeling rushed, the sensation of being crowded, being called ‘selfish’ or 'ungrateful', restriction of freedom, close-minded people, being talked over, people who sell out, those without passion.

►MENTALITY

PHOBIAS: N/A DISORDERS: OCD ALLERGIES: Seasonal (Pollen)

►BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: Adana, Turkey CURRENT RESIDENCE: Queens, NYC, NY EDUCATION LEVEL: BA in Interior Design from University of Cincinnati FAMILIAL CONNECTIONS: - Merjan Danika - Mother, Not in Contact - Ali Danika - 49, Father, Deceased

►FAVORITES

FOOD: Pita flatbread ( margherita style ) DRINK: Chai tea with almond milk MOVIE: The Devil Wears Prada / Black Swan TV SHOW: The Office, The Bold Type, Bob's Burgers BAND: The 1975, The Killers, The Beatles, Lana Del Rey, Smashing Pumpkins SONG: Cherub Rock - Smashing Pumpkins / Zombie - The Cranberries

► EXTRA INFORMATION

JUNG TYPE: ESTP ENNEAGRAM: The Confidant (6w7) TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine MORAL ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good SIN: Glutton (LOL) VIRTUE: Humility ELEMENT: Earth CHARACTER PLAYLIST

"Am I the only one obsessed with making it all make sense?"

► BIOGRAPHY

TW; Death, family dysfunction

Melike was born to a loving couple. At least, that's how it seemed at the time. Growing up in Adana, Turkey, Mel never felt deprived of anything. If anything, she recalls fondly on a time where she was battling dragons with wooden swords that her father so craftily created for her. Her mother? She was always so hard to reach. Mel took on a sort of balancing act. She could be herself around her father; goofy, loving, foolhardy. Around her mother, the young girl had to put a brave face on and take up some pretty adult like chores. At the age of 4, her father was making her breakfast but her mother believed she could fend for herself. Though she tried to relate and bond with her mother, it just wound up turning into an argument. The only times she could remember her mother smiling was over her grades; Mel then focusing on academics because at least her mother cared when she saw her high grades. Her whole life, she learned to hide pieces of herself away to become enough for someone else. Something her father tried so desperately to stop, but it did become a habit to his dismay. When she was off to university, she received a full ride to the University of Cincinnati. Her mother was the one pushing her to become a doctor and go to Penn State. Mel put the decision on the back burner; her own heart and mind at odds, much like her parents were at one another's throats. Her father's death came a couple weeks following her offer letters. The impact had her mother scrambling, and it wasn't until she attempted to sell Mel to a man in order to be his wife, that she finally put her foot down. She decided to go to the University of Cincinnati and hasn't looked back on her life in Turkey since. Two years ago, the woman took the leap to move to NYC due to a job opportunity. She's still gaining her footing here, but she does love the people and the ambiance.

► PERSONALITY

Mel is passionate and loves art and history thanks to her father. Due to this, she is prone to rambles of Shakespeare, Cleopatra, and good 'ole Van Gogh. She loves to go out and have fun in the night life scheme of things, but she also loves to just throw her hair up into a messy bun and have a Netflix marathon. Mel is a hopeless romantic and is all-in when it comes to relationships and crushes. This is an aspect of herself she's scared of, seeing that her parents were a product of an arranged marriage for financial reasons - she's afraid of someone not genuinely loving her and wanting her for their own gain. This has her a bit suspicious of others, and she can be a tad hard to bond with if you hate someone whose hot and cold at first. She genuinely is a warm character and loves the simpler things in life. She loves to rearrange her friends' houses and surprise them with the new layout. She's also an awesome wingwoman. Can take a joke, but will dish it right back. Loves take out and hiking. Mel is fixated on making everything make sense, since her father's passing still doesn't make sense to her; just a trauma response, ya know?

► PLOTS

The Best Friend: This is someone who was here for when Mel first came to Denver. They most likely showed her the ropes and gave her tours. It would be nice for them to have hit it off and been inseperable ever since. - OPEN

College Friends: Friends who went through the same interior design program, maybe? Or, they could've just met around campus and now it's like 'oh shit - you're in Denver too?' - OPEN (x2?)

The Roommate: I kinda see this as like a FRIENDS type of deal. Very much like Mel is the Monica to someone's Rachel and they are trying to figure out life together. Super soft and cute, ok? - OPEN

But, Do I Suck?: The design testers. These people are who Mel runs her ideas by before putting it out into the world and actually decorating someone's house. This is especially if they are a big client. They could be her genuine friends in the design industry, or maybe they just all love art and met/bonded that way. - OPEN (x2)

Once You Have Me, Will You Want Me Still?: Blind date that turned into a hookup and Mel left before they woke up because she got scared. Ya know, she just doesn't want history to repeat itself. - OPEN

#tw death #tw dysfunctional family #boroughs.intro

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

we're not gonna talk abt how i overfilled the pies and one of them spilled in the oven and how it smells a bit like burnt pumpkin rn because my mother & abuela spilled turkey juices in there this morning and the place still smells so like objectively im doing better

#personal posts and stuff idk #anyway im contributing 🎉

[pumpkinpot]

Broken, Scarred Orphans

Chapter 3: Scarred

This fic is inspired by the fic All The Young Dudes by: MsKingBean89 (on a03), Following the events of chapter 175: 1982. It's an AU where Remus went for custody in Sirius's absence and raises Harry as his own. This will follow the years before Hogwarts up through the seven books. (I haven't decided how much canon divergence I will have in the later chapters)

Chapter 1: Grief

Chapter 2: Begrudgingly Sober

CW: Recovering acholoic, previous child abuse

*

Remus's knit fell oddly over his boney shoulders. he attempted to straiten it for the thousandth time, stretching the neck this way and that to no real satifaction. Long hair dusted over his eyebrows, tangling through his lashes. It was fluffy from continuous wash now and he silently reprimanded himself for not cutting it before now.

The kettle nearly cannonballed through the wall with a flick of his fingers. Maybe two days before the full moon wasn't the ideal time he'd imagined it would be. It crashed onto the stove sending water dribbles over the walls and countertop.

Remus couldn't find it within himself to care too deeply. He paced around the flat skinning his bottom lip with his teeth. Dumbledore was never late, but neither early. He hadn’t so eagerly excepted Remus’s invitation as he had before. He waited an entire week to respond, but agreeing to come was good enough, for now.

Air filled his lungs in large gulps, a few choking him. Somewhere between then and becoming sober he'd begun cooking meals again and the smell of burnt ground turkey was pungent within the small flat.

Just as the fireplace began to elongate Remus threw himself down into a chair and attempted (and failed) to take on an air of casual disposition.

The Dumbledore stepped off the cobblestone landing, his hands clasped behind his back. Ever the stoic, his expression gives no sense of his emotional state, but Remus caught what he was looking for.

He’d been fantasizing about it in various degrees for days. It was subtle, of course, a pleasant eye sweep across the room. but it was enough. Dumbledore was pleased.

Despite himself, Remus’s chest warms. He could do this. "Tea?" He choked.

"With three sugars," Dumbledore said as he lowers into a seat at the dining table.

Remus prepared it by hand. His limbs still hadn't completely steadied from his sobriety journey. Sugar grain scattered over the counter congealing with the spilled water. It was a problem for future him.

Right now his worry lay with the fact that, despite weeks of practice, visualizing this conversation in all its variants, suddenly Remus couldn't taste any of his prepared words.

"Am I to assume that this meeting is in regard to our last chat Mr. Lupin?" Dumbledore asked as he took the steaming mug between wrinkly palms.

Good, Remus thought. Right to it. "Yes."

"Mr. Lupin, as I told you before Harry needs somewhere indiscriminate and-"

"Stable. That was the word you used. I will concede that a hidden home is likely safest for him. Though I don’t think a muggle home is best. With no source of protection, any wizard could find him with a simple tracking spell."

"You don’t think we’ve taken the necessary precautions to ensure his anonymity?"

"No," Remus said flatly. "Because I found him in a matter of minutes."

This time there was no hiding the surprise on Dumbledore's face.

"I am not the strongest of us, nor am I the foulest," Remus continued. "Harry represents a very loaded past and future for the wizarding world. This flat has all the makings of a muggle home with all the protections of the order. If protection is your worry I would the deterrent of a werewolf would be beneficial."

"So you’ve decided to register then?"

"No, not yet, but almost anyone who would want to cause Harry harm knows what I am. As the protocol son of Greyback, my reputation reached far within those circles. They will not come for him."

The silence that stretched between them was vast. Seconds turned to minutes. Remus held Dumbledore's eyes, refusing to be the first to look away. Finally, the old man sighed and stood.

"Thank you for the tea, Mr. Lupin." His knees knocked as he hobbled back into the fireplace without another word.

Remus’s jaw had previously felt sore from the weight of his proposal. Now it slacked from its empty resolve. He had it in him to shout after Dumbledore, to make him listen.

Once his thoughts were less scattered he began to write. Pages upon pages covered the table, some sensible fragments of rebuttal others crude warnings that Remus should just take the boy and disappear.

His bottom lip bled now and the insides of his fingers bruised from unused callouses. He fell asleep there awaking with an ink stain of expletives tattooed across his face.

With a renewed sense of defeat, he collects the mugs from last night and fed the letters into the fireplace. Halfway through the stack, the flames begin to flutter.

Remus stepped back just as a large boot came storming through the ashes. Black bush-like hair ducked beneath the mantle. Hagrid stood hunched, still grazing his head on the ceiling. Brown doe-like eyes peered down at Remus.

"Remus," he greeted in the same gruff voice from his childhood. Somehow the man had become taller since Remus's time at Hogwarts. Thicker too.

"Hargid," Remus retorted awkwardly. "What do I owe the er- pleasure."

Hagrid gave a sort of knowing laugh. "Only here to drop off Harry."

He presents a blanket bundle cornered in his elbow. Remus reels back like the child might combust.

"He won’t bite," Hagrid soothed.

Holy shit. He did it.

Remus looked at Harry first, unsure of the child. The last he'd seen him there wasn't that scar bursting across the better half of his face. Despite it, Remus recognized him.

His tuft of curls brought about by James, though it was considerably lighter thanks to Lily. That was mirrored similarly in his complexion. Mixing the fairness of his mother and tan of his father.

In Remus's opinion, that was where the resemblance ended. The scar that spanned his face pulled milky mountains across his skin etching down the bridge of his nose, making hairless valleys through his bushy eyebrows.

Just like Remus's scars.

That last time he'd held him it was a begrudging arrangment filled with apprehension. This time wasn't much different, but as Hagrid passed Harry into Remus's arms, he just stared.

 Harry was asleep. No doubt from the help of a sleeping draught. He felt light for his age and thin, but Remus wondered if it was only his lack of experience with two-year-olds that made him think so.

"Oh," Hargid said, "I also brought this."

A white cardboard box fought at the corners to free from his coat pocket. He plunked it down on the counter and flipped open the lid.

It was a cake. Completely smooshed on one side. with red frosting and blue icing that spelled out "Rimus."

"Happy birthday!" Hagrid shouted.

Remus counted the days off in his head- was it? Sure enough. His lips broke into an unfamiliar sensation. A smile. The expression pulled his skin uncomfortably taut from unuse, but it was a good kind of sore.

"Cheers Hagrid. You should open a bakery," he jeered, half-jokingly as he recalled the other cakes he’d made over the years.

Hagrid looked away. beneath the mane, Remus could have sworn there was pink. "I quite like Hogwarts, but that's veryy kind of you to say Remus. Between you and I, I think little Harry’ll be better off here. The Dursleys nearly threw him at me when I went to collect 'em."

He looked down at the bundle in my arms. Scrappy kid eh? Remus had experience with those.

"He’ll be safe here," Remus assured both Hagrid and himself.

"Oh, I have Sirius’s bike," Hagrid added. "I know you two er- would you like it back, I suppose it would belong to you now anyhow?"

At the mention of his name Remus’s muscles tightened. He’d avoided the name even within his own thoughts, to hear it out loud was enough to pull the air from his lungs.

Hagrids logic was sound. It was the same string of thought that got him the child in his arms, but-

"No, keep it," Remus said, voice much meaner than intended. He apologized, but Hagrid waved it away taking a last look at Harry. He had a similar gleam of determination to Remus in his eye. It was comforting.

"Hagrid, you still live on the Hogwarts grounds don’t you?" Remus prodded.

Hagrid nodded gleefully. "Dumbledore’s got me set up in a proper place now. One where I can fit comfortably, not like that ordinary room from before."

"Good," Remus said, "I’ll need someone to make sure the little git stays out of trouble when he’s at Hogwarts." Hagrid took the words in like a sworn oath. Like a law had been set for him to enforce. "You can count on it, Remus. You and Dumbledore both."

Hagrid left soon after ducking low into the fireplace. Remus was left alone with Harry for the first time.

#all the young dudes #remus and harry #remus lupin #harry potter

[lazycalmbloodbitch]

An Untitled, Unfinished Poem (I Suppose)

You are a bath of goodness

You are a towel after rain, a dog with velvet ears needing to be scratched

Early May, or late August bursting with harvest

You are the steam rolling off the pie and the neatly organized satisfaction of saying something right

You, too, are the silliness of Halloween, the ache in that space of time between seeing a lover and the deep need for home

Don’t cover up your eyes when I tell you something wonderful and truthful, which could be 

That you are the yearning and the comfort for being held, the prick of eyes being pinched into an unavoided smile

June in all her loveliness 

I, however, do not regret to inform you that I am the blades of grass clinging to your wet skin

The first day back from break

Loose change in your pocket, an unexpected bite on the tongue, the color scheme of Easter

Politics

The word left hanging on the tip of the tongue, tax day and the dangerous task of removing a wet swimsuit

I am also the deal you missed, a burnt turkey in the oven and the part of the song that skips

But—returning to you—my dear, you are the mystery of autumn, a clean fleece blanket in a cabin, in a photo “the good side”

The last scrape of cheesecake on the plate after the candles have burned down, speaking of which,

I don’t think you are the cake at a party, but certainly the glow of candles on the faces and the beautiful uneven strings of voices carrying the tune of loveliness to someone born that day

You are the moment of skin touching before and during sex in the milky morning light and you are midnight snacks in the dark

The froth of cream like a cloud, the crackle and fizz of a celebratory drink, heralded as a toast

You are the soft, swadleness of a baby that is not yours, but which you hold just as carefully, if not more so

The sound of rollerblades and laughter

Furthermore, the bubbling feeling before an airplane takes you somewhere special

You are unexpected mist kissing skin on a broiling day and sea glass picked up by gentle sand-speckled hands

You are the comradery shared by the unanimous laughter in a theater, the anticipation of a good story’s resolution

The first real kiss

You are not the tissue administered after crying, but the pleasant exhaustion after something, even unknown, has been resolved

The perfect nap, the weight lifted, butter pressed into homemade bread, the smell of something warm being cooked in the morning

Don’t worry, I can see the look on your face as this list grows longer and longer, I have a few good things about myself too. 

I don’t see why I must share them, but your eyes tell me I must

So how about tomorrow?

#poetry #prose

[luna-the-shark4254]

Incorrect quote time :3

Notes: Lucky is a Lust Demon trying to seduce and murder 049 and 035. 035 is Bisexual in my AU.

035: Who hurt you? Kiki: *snorting* What, do you want a list? 035: ...Yes, actually.

Catgurl: Didn't you die?! 049: That was weeks ago, dude. Things change

Kiki: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like ‘look at this fucking flower. This flower is taller than I am. This flower is winning and I’m losing.’ Andy: Wow, you are not ready to hear about trees.

Catgurl: I made tea. 049: I don't want tea. Catgurl: I didn't make you tea. This is my tea. 049: Then why did you tell me? Catgurl: It's a conversation starter. 049: It's a horrible conversation starter. Catgurl: Oh, is it? We're conversing. Checkmate.

Andy: 049 is late again. Kiki: How did this happen? I called them at 8 o’clock this morning and pretended it was 11. 035: I printed up a fake schedule for them saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon. Catgurl: I set their clock to say PM when it’s really AM. Andy: Oh boy. We may have overdone it. *049 bursts through the door* 049: WHAT TIME IS IT?

Kiki: Dearly Beloved, we are here today to remember 035, taken from us in the prime of life; when they were crushed by a runaway semi, driven by the Incredible Hulk. 035: Aww, you knew my favorite cause of death.

049: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it? Andy: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?” Kiki, scoffing: Oh, please. Andy, to Kiki: Hey, how you doin’? Kiki: Kiki: *giggles and blushes*

Kiki: Breathe, just breathe. Andy: I’ve done nothing with my life! I’m a failure! 049:: Awww, that never bothered you before.

049: Oh god, they texted you ‘hi.’’ punctuation only means one thing, Andy. They're mad at you. Andy: No, it's Catgurl. They're just being gramatically correct! *meanwhile* Catgurl: And then I used a period so they'd know that I'm mad at them. 035: A period doesn't say 'I'm mad', it says 'you're dead to me'. Catgurl: I stand by my choice.

Kiki: *eating a cinnamon roll* 049: Cannibalism. Kiki: *confused chewing noises*

035: I think I'm falling for you. Kiki: Then get up.

Kiki: You ever see something that changes your life and you're just like "huh.." 035: I saw you. Kiki: Honestly that's so cute and sweet but it kinda makes this awkward because I was gonna show you a picture of 049 in a turkey costume.

Catgurl: I can never give Kiki shit because I’m jealous of them. They look at their life and say, “Sweet! This is perfect!” Catgurl: I look at my life and say, “Welp. Time to get drunk.”

Kiki, having recently lost their glasses: KILL THE BUG!!! 049: ....That’s 682—

035: How would you like your coffee? Kiki: As dark as my soul. 035: Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

035: Hey, Andy? Can I get some dating advice? Andy: Just because I'm with Kiki doesn't mean I know how I did it.

035: I'm going to fight the next person who insults Kiki. Kiki: I hate myself. 035: Alright, square up.

035: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you... Kiki: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

Andy: Goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out 035's birthday invitations. Catgurl: Well, what are they supposed to say? Andy: "035's birthday". Catgurl: So, what do they say instead? Andy: "035’s bi". Catgurl: Catgurl: Works out either way.

035: I owe you one. Lucky: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

035: Don’t you have any dignity, Lucky? Lucky: Uh, no.

Andy: Hi, could I ask how exactly does one accidentally set a lemon on fire?? 035: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔 Catgurl: Why were you microwaving a lemon??? 035: I read boiling lemons helps cover up up bad smells (I wanted to cover up the scent of burnt oranges) but I didn't own any pots. Lucky: Did you burn an orange too? How??? 035: Microwave for 40 minutes. 😔

Lucky: I hate how you're just born out of nowhere, and you're forced to go to school and get education so you can get a job. What if I wanted to be a duck? No one ever asked me if I want to be a duck!

035: I don't like bugs. Lucky, are you even listening to me? Lucky: I seem to have misplaced my ant farm. 035, at Catgurl: MOOOOOM!

049: *angrily presses Lucky against a wall* WHERE'S THE MONEY?! Lucky: ... Lucky: Are we about to kiss-

Lucky: Uh, I think I got your lunch. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘I am very proud of you. Love, Catgurl’* Kiki: Oh yeah. I didn’t think this was for me. *Holds up a note that reads: ‘Be good. For the love of God, Please be good.’*

049: Lucky is a strings kid. We must sacrifice them to the band gods. Catgurl: Yes. Kiki: You're right. It'd be a good initiation for me. Lucky: Wait, guys, what about the truce we signed- Catgurl: What truce? 049: *sigh* The truce that we must destroy all the choir kids and leave the strings alone. 035: Wait, I'm a choir kid! Everyone else: *prepares for sacrifice*

Catgurl: Lucky and I were crossing the street, and this man drove by and honked at us. 049: What did you do? Catgurl: They chased him to the next red light, and reached into his window, and- Lucky: *walking in* Who wants a steering wheel?

Kiki: Hold on! I’m having one of those things... a headache with pictures. 049: What the fuck? 035: They’re having an vision.

Lucky: It'll be fun. Lucky: We'll make a day of it. Lucky: Come on you punk bitch. 035: I can't believe I have to say this. 035: I don't have time to get tested for sti's with you tomorrow.

049: Lucky, remember when you said you weren’t going to interfere with my love life? Lucky: No, that doesn’t sound like me at all.

Lucky: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

Kiki: ...My man Catgurl just killed a goldfish. Catgurl: *licking their lips* Yup. Delicious.

049: Ooh, somebody has a crush A random male mft: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Lucky I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them. *Later that night* A random male mft, very much awake: Uh oh.

035: That was so hot, Kiki. Kiki: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenterate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets. 035: I'm so in love with you.

Catgurl, watching 035 and Andy fight: Are you sure they should be fighting? What if they get hurt? 049, not bothered by the chaos: It’s fine. They’re too evenly matched to hurt each other. Catgurl: Then... who’s the strongest out of you three? 035: 049. Andy: 049. 049: Me.

Lucky: honk. 049: WHAT. Lucky: HONK. 049: WHAT DOES HONK MEAN THIS TIME YOU WHIMSICAL PIECE OF SHIT?????

035: What do we think of 049? *pause* Catgurl: *sighs* Nice pal. Lucky, entering the room, bloody with a scalpel in her eye: I think they're gay.

Catgurl: I saw you fall, saw the sinners lay on your corpses... Lucky: Hey, what’s up with Catgurl? Catgurl: I created you, made the pieces perfect, others marveled at your beauty… their gazes may have held envy, though, for none are perfect but you. I was only looking away for a moment, but you were gone. I had failed you. And I fell into despair. The only way to save myself was to create, but I knew… this time I knew I was only making you to die. And I apologize. For I will undoubtedly fail you again. For a short time, there will be peace and beauty, but none in the face of us shall lay undisturbed. The greatest have fallen, and will continue to fall, and I weep for you for being born unto this place, where brother eats brother, and the undeserving rise to fame. Those that have gone against you know they’ve wronged you, and they will stand before the creator, knowing they have sinned. Do not worry, little ones, you will be avenged. 049: ...They made some rock towers and went somewhere else for twenty minutes and when they came back the rock towers were destroyed and people were sitting where the towers once were, so they were sad and made more rock towers. 049, to Catgurl: Hey, who even is the creator? I thought you were an atheist! Catgurl: SHUT THE HELL UP, 049! I’M TRYING TO BE DRAMATIC AND MYSTERIOUS!

Lucky: Hah! 69! you know what that means? Kiki: What? 049: That you're a child. Catgurl, mimicking 049'a voice: HOW YOU GUESS MY IQ?!?

Lucky: The best way to gain someone's undying loyalty is by saving them from a perilous situation. Catgurl: So you're just gonna wait until 049 is in danger and save them? Lucky: Of course not, I'm going to create a situation that puts them in danger and then save them. Catgurl: ... Catgurl: You're insane.

IRL Me: Am I a boy? Am I a girl? It doesn't matter. I'm going to find a way to murder 049

Lucky: I committed all 7 deadly sins in 30 minutes. 035: Wow, I've gotta hear this. Lucky: I was angry and envious of my neighbor so I lazily seduced his wife and ate all his groceries and didn't share. 035: You forgot pride. Lucky: No, I'm pretty proud of this.

#scp 035 #scp 049 #scp incorrect quotes #oc incorrect quotes

[drawnfromthesilt]

something about sour grapes and paperwork.

i.

Imagine a glass of milk. It stands proud on a freshly polished table with a thin layer of froth on top; it must have just been poured. The Sun is shining through the open window behind it, and the crimson curtains cascade in a gentle breeze. You take a sip, and it tastes like every home-cooked meal that’s found its way to a plate. Don’t cry, no one’s burnt the turkey yet.

ii.

Imagine a glass of milk, poised like a dancer on the dining room table. Your mother is setting out all the forks and knives and you put down those salt and pepper shakers you’ve had all your life and the glass teeters and totters but never falls. She gives you a weird look that smells like peroxide. “Careful there, honey,” she says. “I don’t have time for laundry tonight.”

iii.

You wake up before the birds and pour yourself a glass of milk. You never really liked milk, but you’ve always kept a gallon of it in your fridge for safe-keeping. Your shaky hands splash a little on the countertop, and you wipe it up with some paper towel before God sees it. It’s a close call, but you don’t hear a storm brewing, so you tell yourself it’s fine.

iv.

You have a little fishie you won from the fairground swimming in a bowl on the Lazy Susan. You haven’t picked out a name for him yet, but you’re leaning towards Milk. Your best friend keeps saying Milk’s gonna die soon but you know better. Milk’s gonna be with you forever. You watch him at mealtimes, and feed him his little pinches of fish food every night. Your mom says he kind of looks like you. You find him floating upside down in his tank a couple days later and you don’t look in the mirror anymore.

v.

Imagine a glass of milk, and it’s suppertime. You must have nudged the glass after a particularly good joke, because it tumbles gracelessly to the unflinching wood beneath it and the glass shatters in spider webs, its shards laying limp like corpses as the milk pools beneath them. You’re halfway through drawing the chalk outline around it when you realize everyone’s attention has snapped to you with their eyes of angels, and for a moment you think you understand how Eve felt. You’re wrong, of course— at least Eve had the decency to know how she failed us.

vi.

Imagine two glasses of milk, and one falls. Sorry for jumping straight to the chase but it’s dripping onto the tile and I thought you’d quite like to know about it. You don’t react fast enough, and your father is picking up the other glass and throwing it to the ground and no one’s saying anything and raindrops are coming in through the open window. Hopefully, the downpour will wash all this away.

vii.

The kitchen is flooding. You finally shut that damn window, but the rainwater flowed all the way to the carpet in the living room, and now the whole house reeks of mildew. Your father’s out in the storm trying to smoke his cigarette, but the whole pack is soggy and none of them will light. You sweep the fragments of glass off the floor with a broom but it gets all wet and you end up tossing it out. You have to clean the rest up with your bare hands.

viii.

You wake to sheets soaked with your own blood. There’s a sliver of glass in your thumb and it’s been leaking all night like the faucet in your bathroom you’re too scared to ask for help fixing. You pull it out with your teeth and lap at the wound like an injured puppy with a thorn in its paw; it tastes like Milk One, Milk Prime, like all the meals you don’t eat anymore, and you lick your skin to the bone.

ix.

Imagine ten glasses of milk, all balanced precariously on your kitchen counter. They giggle like the fairies on mushrooms no one believed you about and they tip to one side or the other, taunting you. As you reach out to pull them away from the edge, they all dive off.

x.

Imagine a thousand glasses of milk in pieces on the ground, each step you take accompanied by the crunches and rasps of the fallen. You start shoveling Milk Glass Mountain into the trash, but the shards slice through the bag and only end up accumulating at the bottom of the bin. Daddy’s damp cigarettes are out on the porch, but your gash-laden fingers won’t close around them, all ruined flesh and strawberry cream. You take your hands and hurl them over the railing of the deck and head back inside. Those damn things never did you much good anyway.

xi.

Your eyes land on a mug in the cabinet. Cobwebs coat the inside of it, and you can’t grab the handle anymore. You slam the cabinet door shut and curl in a ball on the floor.

xii.

You’re thirsty. The stumps where your hands should be are shaking and your throat burns something fierce. You kneel before a bowl like a dog on your knees and sup milk from it until you’re tired and keep going anyway. It seems awful rude to crawl away before you’ve drunk it all down; whatever god or king or god-king put it here for you had been so generous. He only wants what’s best for you, honey.

xiii.

Imagine a glass of milk. It wobbles weakly on a table warped with rot, and soap suds run down from the rim to mingle with the froth— don’t blame me, you’ve run out of glasses. The window behind it is barred shut with metal cross beams, and the burgundy curtains are rags on the cracked tile. You take a sip, and it’s so sour that you vomit back into the cup. You’re afraid that if you cry, milk might come out of your tear ducts. You don’t cry.

xiv.

Imagine a glass of blood. You’re not sure if it’s yours or your father’s. You’re not sure if there’s a difference. You don’t even flinch by now when it crashes to the ground, and when you pick the shavings up off the floor, milk is pouring out of your severed skin.

xv.

If a glass of milk falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still spill?

xvi.

If a glass of milk falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, why are you still bleeding?

xvii.

Imagine nothing. You stretch your arms as far as they will reach, and they return to you as pitiful hounds, the only evidence of their hunt the sickly sweet stench of surrendered hope between their teeth. You are dry and whole again, and gravity has let you off its leash. You then tear away the blackout curtains from the window to join the moldy tatters on the tile and pry off your barricades with a crowbar. The milk-white moon has your father’s face, and it is headed straight for you.

xviii.

Imagine a hundred thousand broken glasses of milk piling up in your trash can, and everywhere you go all you smell is iron, and everyone around you is gorging on cheese and ice cream and butter and you think there’s something wrong with you. You’re in the bathroom and you’re clawing open your stomach and milk’s gushing out like a fountain, your body finally rejecting it like a transplant gone wrong. You don’t know what happens after you rip out your eyes, all you know is that you feel hollow.

xix.

The morning after the end of the world, you find the house empty. You peer out the windows, and no one walks along the streets. You grab the empty carton of milk from the fridge and make your way to the cemetery. You missed everyone’s funeral, but you’re not too shaken up about it. At least you won’t have to send any consolation cards. You pause at the grave of your father and bury the carton with him, and the missing child on the back resembles the reflection you haven’t looked at in a while. Your fist clenches around the ghost of something that never was, and clouds swirl overhead. It’s time to head home.

xx.

There is a vacant spot in your fridge. The next time you go to the store, you buy orange juice instead.

#poetry #abuse tw #body horror tw #blood tw #unreality tw

[pureimaginefic]

Harry's Best Bits

"Well you definitely have a great look" he said "Oh god, wow, I'm sorry" he said nervously.- It's A Love Story

“Come on, Adam’s evil, he’s not stupid” “He’s gonna figure out there’s something going on with you guys if you don’t quit it with the looks” “Just saying, I think we’ve all had enough brushes with death this year”- Resolutions

“You all think I’m annoying? I’ve got news for you, you’re all no prize either!” he said before going upstairs.- Heatwave

“i’m cold, can I please put my pants back on?” - Run Through The Jungle

"Well I'm not going; I actually have some principles" Harry said sitting at the table Oh who are we kidding, guys!" Harry said getting his jacket and following behind them.- Smells Like Teen Spirit

"Whoo! wow, that was an ordeal" Harry said happily, breathing a sigh of relief "So glad that's over, how about you guys?" he asked.-Smells Like Teen Spirit

“Why do I feel like all we’re good for is getting information?” Harry asked Kyle “No one ever asks ‘hey, Kyle and Harry, how are you guys? What are you up to?’” Harry asked irritated, he turned around to see Kyle had left the kitchen “Oh come on!” he called out.- My Deadly Valentine

“…I didn’t want to do it, they made me!” Harry said nervously.- My Deadly Valentine

“Oh god…oh I’m getting the hell out of here” Harry said standing up and trying to gather his things as fast as he could.- An Adam McLean Christmas

“Actually I meant is it okay if Satan directs a play about the birth of Christ” Harry said to Kyle.-An Adam McLean Christmas

“Alright fine…but the first sign of drama club Hitler and I’m out-An Adam McLean Christmas

"If you have some holy water on you I suggest you throw it on him”-An Adam McLean Christmas

"Wait why am I in trouble? I’m the one who was almost killed!"-An Adam McLean Christmas

"You know if you think about it, football is straight up strategy, there’s also physics involved”- The Kids' Table

"We used to do this when we were little, remember? We would go around and say what we were thankful for? We’d make little paper hand turkeys?” - The Kids' Table

"I’m a mad scientist” Harry said to him “Kyle…you’re literally wearing your football uniform- Tales From the Jr. BSB Crypt

"I made bread…my teacher’s going to enter it into the school’s bake sale!”-Tales From the Jr. BSB Crypt

"Yeah you don’t have to be a jerk just because we’ve had three weeks to do this project and you just decided to start doing it now” - A Time of War, A Time of Peace

"You were looking for me?" he asked, she nodded "Wow...a beautiful girl looking for me...that never happens" I was really excited up until the word favor"- Dead Man's Party

"Isn’t it a little morbid to celebrate someone's death?"- Dead Man's Party

"He wants us to die down here...he's trying to make us lose our minds trying to figure out how to get out of here" Harry rambled as they stopped for a breath."- Dead Man's Party

"If you have any plans of killing us, can you let us know so we can leave the country?"- Dead Man's Party

"I hate Halloween"- Dead Man's Party

"Can I get your statement now?" "What? You said not to worry about it!" Harry said to them. "I have a deadline!" - In The Air Tonight

"I’m trying to use my jedi mind tricks to bend this spoon” Oh my god, I made the spoon disappear!” he said.- Made With Love

"You think YOU have it bad? I’ve been kicked by ten kids today!” Harry said irritated “My legs are going numb"- Santa's Helpers

“Why go to hell when I can just go to Adam’s room, it’s basically the same thing- Santa's Helpers

"It's my chef's outfit, nice huh? I've been waiting for a moment to wear this"- We Gather Together

"You know once you get past the burnt part...its not that bad" - We Gather Together

"I knew he didn't like me but did he really have to shoot me?" - Aftermath

"I can't believe this, I'm a criminal" he said in horror "I have a record!" he said grabbing on to Kyle's shirt "How do you handle this?!" - Weekend at Brian's

"Turn it down!" Harry bellowed up the stairs as he came down into the kitchen. "Man, what is with him?" he asked "I can't get any work in my lab done because of sobfest 2010 up there" Harry said.- The Hardest Part of Breaking Up

"Hear what?" Harry asked "All I hear is late 80's hair metal ballads" he said.-The Hardest Part of Breaking Up

#jr. bsb series #jr. bsb birthday #original characters #bsb fan fiction #harry birthday spam #best of harry

[writinglittlebeasts]

Pie & warm coat (if you have it lol) for the fall ask game? - @void-botanist

october-themed writeblr ask game

🥧 pie: let’s talk about food in your wip. are there any special recipes or traditional meals? do any of your OCs cook or bake?

very sad to say that i can't really cook myself and therefore it just like, doesn't come up often in my work. in an older, abandoned wip, i remember drawing up a short comic where the characters are making Grandmama's Kielbasa Recipe but there were no actual details or anything. a lot of the food that *does* come up in my writing is take-out or, like, eat-in or whatever. i've written about spaghetti pretty often because even i can manage to swing that and that's nothing to write home about.

the most stand-out food fact in wolf's tooth rn is that lovise can't cook for shit but loves to try anyway. this is i think the most food-heavy wolf's tooth is ever going to get, frankly:

Large serving dishes and entire pots are rolled out of the kitchen on a serving cart. When Santo leans past Brionna to set a salad bowl in the center of the table he jostles her head with his bicep; she snaps her teeth at him, and he laughs. A wide pot of vegetable stew finds its way between empty plates and glasses and silverware onto a worn potholder. Brionna holds her breath when Lovise lifts the lid away, but when Jacqueline leans in to take a whiff of its heavy steam she risks her own curious inhale; the stew’s beef broth is overpowering, but it doesn’t smell burnt, and if she focuses Brionna can smell the sweet carrots and cabbage, the nutty, meaty potatoes.  Jack catches her eye. ‘Did this woman learn to cook while we weren’t looking?’  Brionna shrugs, turning to the head of the table where Ronda is turning a casserole dish crosswise to its length. She’s optimistic when her mother’s fingers alight on the lid’s round handle. She’s crushed when the lid rises and exposes the gnarled, blackened crust of what must have been macaroni in another life, and she watches Kirby’s face screw up as the sharp scent of it hits his nostrils.  “There’s plenty more of that,” Lovise assures the horrified, balking masses absently (as she’s occupied revealing the next of her abominations), “because I know how you all can eat.” (It’s a turkey, and its skin is flaking like parchment onto its platter, stuffed with and leaking something blessedly store-bought.) Brionna is calculating how politely she can eat only Lovise’s passable stew when her father sets a tray of bread loaves beside the stew pot that smells so overwhelmingly of butter that every head turns to follow it, to inhale deeply and expel each other bitter scent. Santo had baked this, himself; he’s positively radiating with pride, having outdone Lovise and saved the meal. He had to have known that he would, bragging to Ronda while he’d made a mess of their kitchen. Fuck, but there are basil leaves crowning the crust. He’s earned one hell of a birthday present.

i think i ought to consider food more often because i think that little elements like this can add a lot to a character, it just doesn't really occur to me to try because i find cooking personally very frustrating

🧥 warm coat: share a happy or fuzzy scene from your wip!

no fuzzy scenes written yet for my current wips because they're all about agonies, but i'll dig one up from wips past. [minutes pass] ok so these are also about agonies, but i have some sweet shit in my fanfics lol

from partner in crime:

Red wraps Frank's hand up in his, squeezing the meat of it so firmly there isn't an ounce of space left. "I've never had any reason to be afraid of you."  "No, you don't."  Frank tries to sound tender and reassuring, and Red takes the opportunity to break the tension. "You can barely land a roundhouse." He teases. "Your footsteps are so heavy they can feel them down in the subway tunnels."  A grin breaks out across Frank's face and he rounds the counter to pull Red (bearing his broken arm in mind) to himself. "Piece of shit."  Red presses his cheek, more his ear, flush to Frank's chest, light smile on his own face while he slows and listens, lets his grip on Frank's hand loosen only for Frank's hold to tighten. He hums, and it radiates warmly between the two of them.  "You might know me."  Frank may not have Red's bat ears, but he finds that where Red's voice is soft it's heady with emotion. Tinged with bitterness, exhaled across Frank's heart. Crawling up his throat, settling sweetly at the back of his skull.  Frank mirrors that feeling, winds his free hand up Red's shoulder to his throat and only stops when his fingers meet short hair at the back of his neck. "I know everything I need to know t'know that I--"  He trips before the finish line; he can't make himself say it, feels like an ass for it. Like if he only tries hard enough he can give that to Red, like the way it sticks in his throat is a personal failing.  Frank flattens his palm to the nape of Red's neck, half surprised that he doesn't tense or lean away, wait for the rest. That's the important part, right? The words, the surety of them.  Red speaks again, the side of his mouth still moving over the thin shirt Frank wears so that it can be felt as well as heard. "Me too, Frank." "What?"  "I love you, too, Frank."  Red says it so easily. Just like that first time, when he pinned Frank for a sucker. 'I like my chances' , he'd said. Cocky son-of-a-bitch.  He was right, though. Red's had Frank wrapped around his finger from the very start.  Frank trails his hand up into Red's hair, cradling his skull in his hand. Red pushes back against it like a satisfied cat. Frank clears his throat, "'S'at what I was gonna say?"  "I don't mean to dispute your ability to self-reflect," Red lowers their still-clasped hands to Frank's hip and then a bit farther, behind his back, "But I'm pretty sure you've been saying it for a while now."  Overconfident, self-righteous, cocky motherfucker. Perceptive son-of-a-bitch; pain in the ass.  Frank hides the surely embarrassing expression on his face in Red's hair, doesn't stop until his lips meet his own knuckles. What he asks next is muffled. "Yeah?"  "Unless you were trying to keep it a secret," Red amends, "In which case, I've never noticed anything beyond the platonic. Professional, even."  Frank's laughter, full-bodied, making his shoulders shake, is likewise muffled by soft, bright hair. 

(that excerpt looks SO long on tumblr my god)

thank u for asking!!

#or #answers #void botanist #awtfr #fic stuff