#don't pick up that habit kids. it's really fucking hard to accept that this is the alternative
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not self harming sucks man. bc now I just feel sad and in pain all night and there's fuck all to do about it! I cuddle my cat and put rain ambiance on the tv and feed myself spaghetti. and the pain just stays there
how do y'all do it
#like i mean it's not *worse*?#and self harm makes it worse *in the long run*#but short term it just sort of nips that shit in the bud#do people really just. sit around in pain for hours. when they dont use harmful coping mechanisms lol#'oh well youre supposed to call someone or something' shut it.#ed mumbles#self harm /////#fr someone tell me im not insane for not experiencing any kind of improvement after doing the right things#im just telling myself over and over. im not self harming so it doesnt get worse in the long run.#don't pick up that habit kids. it's really fucking hard to accept that this is the alternative
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I occasionally see religious centers (and I know rn my mom is into one) whose entire selling point is "Let's talk this out! We're not so different! Let's have real and honest dialogue and we'll both benefit :)" and it's such cutesy wholesome marketing and also such a load of bullshit
Like it's the same deal as religious people saying "just be respectful about X, that's not so hard!" And "just come over on Saturday/Sunday! For the community! Just cover up! Just say a prayer over this one thing!"
I was also told this personally, a lot - why not say this prayer before bed? It barely takes any time and you'll only benefit. Why not look into this thing? You're so smart and surely you'll come to interesting conclusions. Why not this, why not that, it's a small thing, it's only to be respectful, it's only to honor tradition, it's to honor mom, honor grandpa, and so on and on and on
And it's just, completely and truly one way. Nobody's out here making whole ass propaganda campaigns to turn you away from religion. Nobody puts on an 80s Rowdy Troublemaker voice and tells you to put down that prayer book and come consort with them listening to godless music. Sure I guess it happens passively, but if we're talking active influence - the two don't compare, like, ever.
I don't want to have a dialogue, because the point of the dialogue is ONLY to convince me. Pick up another habit. Lean more towards us. That's it, nobody's on the other side excited to learn about my heathen ways and maybe they'll come away with a little life lesson on their own. They're right and I'm wrong and hopefully they can nudge me towards their rightness, clothed as they are in wholesome and accepting and nonproblematic talking points.
I even saw this brought up with religious households - what happens when a theist/believing/traditional parent raises children with an atheist or agnostic parent?
There's an overwhelming statistic to this: the nonbelieving parent leans more towards religion. The education they give their kids will lean more towards religion. Either that or the relationship doesn't really work out, honestly. Again, statistically.
I'm not saying religious people are evil, or that people aren't entitled to practice whatever belief they want (in the privacy of their own home ehuehheuehe), but organized religion trying to convince me they don't proselytize? That this is about dialogue and a back and forth? Fuck you, it really really isn't.
#selfpost#religion#I know Judaism doesn't really proselytize abroad but.#this isn't to say Judaism doesn't try converting seculars/more liberal Jews at every fucking turn#judaism
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What are the character's core values and beliefs?
How does the character respond to change?
What is the character's attitude towards risk and uncertainty?
What past experiences have shaped the character's personality? (For Jupiter)
character building. // @r3dblccd
always accepting !!
What are the character's core values and beliefs?
being a kid who just didn't?? grow up well - was bullied, picked on, suicidal and self-harmed; he deep down believes in kindness over all. as chaotic and stubborn as he is, he believes in peoples' kindness and how willing a person is to choose love instead of hate. it's damn easy to be mean, to be rude, to hate; but it is a million times harder for you to continue to smile and be kind instead and not let it ruin you. like as fucked up as he grew up, he would still commit arson over his brother because his brother loved him so much and did whatever he could to keep jupiter safe. he could have easily been like his father and abandoned him, or his other siblings and abused him - but regulus and eventually leo did whatever they could to love him, to treat and raise him into a kind individual (it's debatable if he really is depending on who you talk to). he believes so much in loving each other, even if his walls don't always let you see it.
How does the character respond to change?
life's never been stable enough for jupiter to really be hard on change. parents were nonexistent, siblings temperaments changed like the weather, strangers were always in and out of the house, he moved more times than he could count. he wanted to move back to korea and his desperation is what caused regulus to cave and move back with him. his constant need for adventure and change is why he travels so much to so many different countries. it makes him seem a little erratic and irresponsible perhaps, but it's just an itch he can't help.
What is the character's attitude towards risk and uncertainty?
risk is warranted in life in his opinion, no matter how cushioned your life is - but uncertainty is...perhaps a little more difficult for him. he was left home alone a lot as a kid, and sometimes he didn't know if his brother would ever come back and he didn't know why at the time. relationships are a risk for him and he's willing to put the effort into them - but the uncertainty of people truly loving him? that puts his walls up, because jupiter knows just how much of a mess of he is. he may not be as bad as he was, but he's still depressed, he's got terrible anger issues and has an awful habit of lashing out verbally towards others (he'll always hurt himself before he physically hurts others) because of it. jupiter's uncertain about a lot of things and it makes him uneasy, even if he's good at masking, but it's why he'd rather go along with a person and their behavior than being upfront and honest about himself.
What past experiences have shaped the character's personality? (For Jupiter)
jupiter after all his growing up just wants a simple and easy life and it shows a lot in his home. he used to have an extremely bad hoarding problem as a kid, always growing the most emotional attachments towards things that could easily disappear or be taken away from him. it's not as bad, but he will keep gifts from others and keep them safe and away from others he fears might take them away, or maybe take them back one day. being bullied and even seeing his brother come back after abusive nights with his old lovers made him wary of others, especially those bigger than him and in power over him. as much of a bastard as he can be, you'll see him shrink fast if someone attempts to overpower him. the constant abandonment of siblings and his father also made him develop some abandonment issues and separation anxiety - it's why his relationships don't last long because he'd rather leave before they leave them. on the same side though, if he's away from his partner for a while, he becomes increasingly lonely and anxious and he will cling to them when he gets to see them again, invites them to stay with him for a little bit. he got his rabbit because they're both very lonely creatures that demand a lot of attention and love.
#letters received &&. sent out ⸢ 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗 / asks &&. answers ⸥#r3dblccd#you look to the stars in hopes they can tell your story instead ⸢ 𝐉𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑 / headcanons. ⸥
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idk how to phrase this exactly. i know what i want to write, but it's hard to write it out coherently when the conceptualization part of my brain & the... word forming part of my brain aren't talking to each other. basically, i know i've been a bit rampant with the internalized ableism lately. it's a nasty habit that i can get into, particularly when my functioning is as dampened as it is now. got super overstimulated at the grocery store and nearly had another *something* in my car. when i finally managed to calm my brain down, i knew i still wanted to listen to music on the ride home, even if at 1/4th the volume i normally do. realized that the playlist i had been listening to while driving around wouldn't do my brain any good, esp since there's a bunch of hard rock & metal in it. i also remembered that i made a playlist specifically for that very situation the last time i burned out. i was just... struck by the amount of compassion & self-care i was capable of showing myself not very long ago. made me feel... guilty ig. bc i haven't been doing that so far during this burnout. i called out from work today, but i nearly made myself go in. i feel like that definitely contributed to the catatonia this morning. i identify more with the logical & volitional parts of my brain, but it's like the other parts pushed back against us this morning so hard that we completely shut down. like, 'yeah, you think we're going in? nope. you're not in charge here right now.' i need to remember how to love myself like i was capable of doing during the last burnout bc so far? this one has been *so much fucking worse* & that's almost assuredly bc i've been denying that i'm burnt out & trying to go on as i had been only a week ago. it's definitely been pushing others away as well. it's probably hard to believe that i love autistic people when i'm seemingly incapable of loving myself as i am rn. i wasn't expecting to burn out again so quickly or really... at all, ever again, but it happened. the only way i'm going to be able to recover & not push people away is by being the person who made the recovery playlist that i listened to on the way home from the store.
edit: i'm also. a bit closer to accepting that i'm probably autistic. for two reasons, mostly. first, i literally don't know what else it could possibly be at this point. second, my intuition has been scary accurate about these things, historically. while my logic has driven me astray more times than i can count. it's cold & calculating, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it's going to be a more accurate way of arriving at conclusions. i'll probably end up doubting it again when i come out of the burnout, but it seems irrevocably true right now. i really don't know what else could be causing these issues. i think, maybe, i was just better at finding patterns in people's behavior than some other autistic people. i do remember being much less socially attuned as a kid & teenager. to the point that i may not have been looking up how to read social cues or tell what people are thinking, but i probably picked up on it from studying interactions irl. that's my working theory bc, while autism as an explanation seemed really unlikely in-between the last burnout & this one, it still makes more sense than *anything else*. it's not c-ptsd, it's not the depression, and it's not schizophrenia. moreover, my few experiences with involuntary violence make me feel like it's almost assured. i got *very good* at masking & keeping my shit together bc my presentation of it is highly atypical & i'm *usually* very low support needs. obviously not rn. in fact, i kinda regret not asking my fiancée to pick up my meds for me, but i digress. those skills are something that i'm going to have to rebuild if i want to, but i feel like being that high-masking probably contributed to these burnouts. i ended up holding so much shit in that i feel worse than i ever have. it's going to be a struggle to continue accepting the reality of the situation when i finally break out of this again & continue using my disability aids, but it's important so this doesn't happen *again*. with my luck & executive functioning, it probably will, but it may not happen for years if i take *slightly better* care of myself. anyway, that's it. i'm probably autistic. i've hit two burnout periods in the span of one year & i literally *Don't Know What Else It Could Possibly Be*.
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🌼 🌿
🌿 describe your narrative style, multiple POVs? Present or past tense? 1st person or 3rd? Why did you choose that for your WIP?
for me its multiple povs, present and past tense (i'm a mess) and 3rd person. when i first started reading novels i really couldn't stand 1st person pov for some reason? it annoyed the hell out of me so i refused to write it ever since but i can't say it still annoys me in the present day unless its done right (lots of character inner monologue, i love it and stories feels incomplete without it to me). this is probably also due to my favorite books all being in 3rd person. my reason for using multiple povs is that i need to know what's going on inside everyone's head and my brain keeps supplying me with ideas for what they're thinking/feeling when i'm writing anyways. it doesn't matter if they're the main character or not for me. for the present and past tense…don't ask i don't know what the hell i'm doing.
🌼 pick an OC and put them on blast. Call out their flaws, complain about what makes them difficult to write, etc.
lmaoooo okay Sam goes first
he literally doesn't talk often enough. Sir, fucking Kaid talks more than you. where the fuck is your dialogue. also you should get into the habit of talking shit more often too, especially when these dumbass kids are bullying you. when i say 70% to 80% of his dialogue is internal. sam knows two whole languages and won't say shit in either of them 💀he's just not a shit talker and his mom is definitely a shit talker and i wish he inherited that trait instead of quietly judging people and being conflict avoidant like his dad. this isn't necessarily a bad thing its just that i have to tickle him to get him to say something and he's the main character??? boy say something?? i think i need to accept having a introvert main character once and for all and acknowledge that its okay. but also, sam needs to get mad more often. stop being so nice all damn the time go apeshit. please. at least he says the fuck word. lastly, i need a way to profoundly change you by the end of this story and i haven't fucking found it yet because he keeps getting away from me the rascal. everything else is fine about him just please talk kid.
aubry: you are mentally ill no but seriously her journey from point A to point B is what makes her difficult to write but also fun as hell to write because i love when a character completely changes? getting all her mannerisms right is actually like trying to solve a rubix cube and play chess at the same time though. how do i keep track of all that. i say characters changing is a good thing but her base character and basic personally has changed i don't know how many goddamn times since inception in very small ways and sometimes in huge ways. but i feel like im finally getting somewhere. after 2 years. she is very (ironically) set in her ways i swear she's like a small boomer sometimes. she needs to come out of her shell and live a little. also how do we forgive her for being an asshole sometimes and also make her lovable and make that realistic? how do i figure out how to write that? damn aubry, you make things difficult.
Chelsie: she's insane and perfect, she is the second coming, she is a girlboss, she is never going to die, nothing bad to say about her. sike, actually you know how Sam never talks but has terabytes worth of inner dialogue? well Chelsie talks a lot. she thinks as she talks and talks as she thinks (i love this about her). the issue is she's so guarded that all her inner dialogue has mysteriously gone missing! what's going on in that wonderful noggin of yours, Chells? her inner dialogue is mostly what she feels and does as a result of it unless its particularly about solving a problem. i guess she is one of those people that don't talk to themselves inwardly a lot? but that makes it hard for me to understand her and her journey inwardly. not surprisingly…she has problems opening up to other people in the text/story and doesn't understand her own emotions. so yeah 💀that tracks. she is wonderfully contradictory too but i can make that make sense if i try hard enough. and sometimes she'll shove sam into oncoming traffic and declare that she is the main character. i am sending her directly to therapy after this is over.
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I'm sorry this is so long, and if something doesn't make sense or uses the wrong terms or language. I don't want to offend, and Im truly sorry if anything could be construed that way.
I've been dealing with the internalized fatphobia that comes with weight gain. (I've gained over 60lbs in the past 8 years and it was very hard to accept considering people say I've "let myself go"). I'm trying so hard to not fall into the trap of getting concerned for myself, weighing myself, feeling like a failure, vowing to eat less and exercise more, considering stopping life saving medications that cause any weight gain, etc.
It's so hard to break that habit because it's been ingrained in my brain. My mom had our whole family on diets from the time I was 7-8 (I put on a lot of weight during that time, but it was mostly so my dad didn't feel singled out because of his size and it was easier to prepare the same meals and portions for everyone). If it was a diet, we did it: blood type diet, atkins, weight watchers, eat this not that, zone, slim fast, south beach, etc. In 6th grade I lost 20 pounds and was so proud of not being "the fat kid" anymore. I mean, I hit a growth spurt and shot up to 6' almost by the end of middle school and gained some weight back, but, y'know "everything in proportion" as they say
I try so so hard to follow all the "intuitive eating" principles. I try not to restrict or assign moral labels to food and things like that. But every time I think I'm getting my self esteem back, I look at the scale and reality comes crashing down again. I feel like a failure. I can hear my mom making fun of my dad for being fat, and my dad in turn making fun of me. And the old habits come back of "I'm not going to eat this meal, and for the next meal I will have only ONE piece of cheese and a bunch of lettuce and NO bun on my hamburger, and I will write down every crumb that passes my lips and then torture myself by doing 100 situps".
I probably did a lot of harm to myself dieting throughout my childhood, but I didn't have a choice. It was eat what they made or be hungry anyway. There was no candy or cookies or delicious snacks; it was all low carb, low sugar, low fat, etc. We had chips and cake at birthday parties, and "cheat meals" on Saturdays or whenever we had a holiday and there was lasagna involved. If I did find candy or cookies or chips or something "unhealthy", I'd eat them in my room alone so nobody had to see my failure.
I just don't want to feel ashamed for all the weight I gained once I moved out and an injury made it impossible to continue doing karate 35 hours a week (or at all). I try not to make choices based on the "health" of food, but those old habits die hard, and I find myself looking at the nutrition labels and basing choices on what is the "healthiest".
How do I just accept the fact that I'm going to be a larger person and it's ok? A lot of people in my life see it as a moral failing (my dad and sister and aunt all got gastric sleeve surgery so now I'm the heavy one they can all pick on. Or rather, I make the fat jokes about myself to beat them to it). Even my husband is concerned about what I weigh, and doesn't want me to be unhealthy (I know he means well, but I didn't really feel like going into all the research with him. He can read it on his own). Did my mom permanently fuck up my metabolism by putting us all on diets as children? Am I doomed to have to spend the rest of my life undoing all this damage? Will I ever get over the feeling that every little bit of weight I put on is a moral failing? And I wonder if I'll ever be able to accept my body for how it is now instead of how it was when I was 17 and did nothing but teach karate and eat lettuce wraps and was still somehow "overweight" (at 5'11" and 162lbs! BMI had me thinking that was an abomination and that I was so large and how dare I weigh so much).
I'm sorry, I don't really know where I was going with this. I guess I just needed to ask if I'll ever be able to accept myself at my larger size and not feel like I have to starve myself and overexert myself every time I eat a cookie and then step on the scale and see I've gained 0.1 pound. If I'll ever have a healthy relationship with food, or if I'm doomed to be fucked because of childhood.
Do you or your followers have a similar experience, with having to go through disordered eating as a kid and paying the mental price for it as an adult and trying to pick up the pieces and accept themself for who they are?
First get rid of the scale. It doesn't do you any good.
Second, I don't think you'll be fighting this hard forever, Intuitive Eating is a skill with practice it'll get easier. It's like a muscle.
Third, boundaries. Make it clear that you won't be taking these jokes anymore, you won't make those jokes anymore and make sure your hubby is reading the material. With abusive people like your family you need support. Tbh when my mom starts saying rude things I say rude things back. People who say things without thinking are like dogs, you can't train them after the fact. If the dog pees on the carpet you have to deal with it then so the dog understands. You'll be the "wet blanket" but you deserve your boundaries and people who try to make you feel like shit, then get mad that you don't take it are assholes.
Fourth, I don't know if your mom fucked up your metabolism for sure. Regardless it sounded like you had the genes for which makes the abuse even more rancid imo. When we as adults have to live with the fucked up stuff our parents put us through it's a lot of healing especially if they don't think they did anything wrong. If you can try looking into therapy. You need to be able to feel like you completely own your body, your right to look anyway you do. It's a type of situation where you'll work on finding peace for yourself and forgiveness doesn't have to happen. And you can be at peace but then you get set off and are reliving stuff, it's a hard but good work (its a cycle is what i mean, and youll get better at working through it). You deserve to exist. Right now. No regrets, no apologies.
Fifth, I always suggest mediation practices. The skill of learning to have thoughts and removing their emotional impact is important. Our first thoughts aren't always useful, authentic or productive. This comic helps explain: https://brytning.tumblr.com/post/678122968160862208/self-care-sunday-does-anyone-else-feel-like-they
I have really bad depression and I do have medication that helps but practicing stopping and letting cycling thoughts go was super important. Tbh I do this type of letting go without meditating positions or what have you. This type of thought watching and releasing is something you do while out and about. When I hear fatphobic shit from my mom I've let it wash over me because her miserable brain is her problem. Just like your family has to carry their self hate, it's not your baggage. This also gets easier with time.
Sixth, take comfort in the fact that all bodies change. You aren't 17 anymore, you shouldn't be that person anymore. You are wiser and working on being happier! Getting older is hard no matter your size so you have some common ground. You mourn, you bury and you try your best to learn about the you that is alive today.
Seventh, I primarily pick food based on texture. So I don't have a great advice for labels and food guilt. You literally have to stop reading labels. End of story. Pretend it's in a language you don't understand.
Eigth, you didn't mention this but if you are holding onto clothes that don't fit, get rid of them. They aren't worth holding onto. Find clothes and styles you like that fit. The past is in the past and keeping clothes you can't wear is self harm.
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Note; I deeply apologize seeing as this is going to end up being long.
Onto the information;
My name is Ghost(mainly go by this one), Acid, Killer(more of a nickname), or Gore(more of a nickname). I go by he/they/xe/its, and I'm a dude, MLM and poly so it really doesn't matter much who it is. Born March 31st, being an Aries I'm a very loud and energetic person. I'm also very impulsive and get myself into deep shit, even if I don't realize I'm doin' it. I get overly loud when the topic is about something I enjoy or is into, if I try flirting on purpose it's ass but when I do it without realizing I get called a huge flirt.
Big music and art geek, I have sketchbooks upon sketchbooks filled just sitting around in my room. I listen to a lot of rock like Queen, Guns N Roses, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, ACDC, Nickelback, KISS, Slipknot, KoRn, and on and on. Although I listen to every genre of music minus country(although there are few songs I can deal with). Big tattoo/piercing person, if you have one visible I will point it out and geek out about it. Although literally don't ask me to name a few songs unless I've been rambling on about it because I have the shittiest memory.
I dye my hair so often it's surprising my hair is still healthy. I have literally bleached my hair, dyed it red and let that fade for a week, then dyed it blue and have been touching up the blue ever since then. If it wasn't due to money problems and the fact it's hard to borrow in my town my hair would probably have my hair a different color every two weeks. I ramble quite a bit and have the shittiest focus and memory, so you may have to pull me to the side and tell me to calm down. Would definitely compliment on the boys looks, specially their outfits.
I'm a coffee and monster addict at this point, you'll see one or the other in my hand, and the occasional water bottle because I try to keep myself health. My love language is through touch and insulting people. Ex, "I fucking love you dumbass" or flipping you off playfully as a way of saying "i love you bitch". Smoking doesn't bother me, grew up around it my entire life. I love riding on motorcycles, no matter the weather, is it cold asf, nice idgaf, is it raining, shit lets go.
I have a bad(good in some people's eyes) of using petnames/nicknames for everyone. Everyone has a wholesome petname from me and then I'll call them a whore or some shit. I cuss too much for my own good, I literally don't have a filter in my entire body. I will impulsively say shit, sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes it's a bad thing. Due to my anxiety I try to stay away from large crowds, but if I'm in them (aka on the boardwalk) I will have music blaring in my ears and my ears glued into my current sketchbook.
Although I currently don't have them, I'm going to add them anyways because I'm going to end up getting them when I have the money to go to a piercer or to get a kit. I want a shit ton of piercings. Such as snake bites(lip piercing), tongue, septum, all of the piercings finished on my ears, and bridge. I've stated once I'm a big tattoo geek, so I want a quite a bit of those. I'm definitely a big "oh let's do it myself" person, and I have tried giving myself a septum piercing. (it would've worked if it wasn't for the fact I did it too low to be able to flip it up to hide it)
I love the adrenaline of fights, it doesn't matter if I win or loose, although I do prefer if I win. I literally get the most random urge to fight someone for the hell of it. Probably has something to do with impulsive thoughts and shit, but oh well. I'm a big respect person, I live by the motto "you respect me, I'll respect you". I have blackouts sometimes due to rage and anxiety, so I try to keep myself from having them.
I have a bad habit of rambling and saying sorry too much. I tend to repeatedly say sorry whilst rambling as I tend to get overly excited and loud when I ramble. I'm a very talkive person if I know and trust you. If you're around me and you don't get your ear talked off or messed with, you're probably not liked or
you need to leave. It's one easy way you'll be able to tell if I get along with you or not.
I kinda have a whatever/punk/alt style, a lot of time I just grab something decent and throw it on. Although you'll always see me wearing a belt and my platform shoes. I'm 5'0, so my obsession with platforms grew because of my need to be tall. I wear a lot of baggy clothing, I'm definitely more of a comfort over style person.
Ok, my dude, I'll definitely pair you with...
Marko and Paul
Oh, man, you three are gonna be some threesome (and not necessarily in the sexual way lol)
Just imagine THE MESS
The boys think you're adorable when you get into the romantic mood and try to flirt but end up saying bad pick-up lines, so they'll laugh, but will twirl their hair as whoerish as possible and follow the game. Or they would get on with their manly act and fight to see who will flirt back better.
Now, the chatting will be so goddamn long! You three will go on 4 hour-long conversations that'll get from a "look at this new t-shirt I got" to "so that's why Ronald Reagan was an alien". The worst part is left to the spectators like David or Dwayne since none of you three will be the sane individual and shut y'all up.
The blondes like your drawing, and ask you to draw them or random stuff and people CONSTANTLY, so you'll have many opportunities to improve your skills and try with different models. When they happen to find some of your sketchbooks, they try to impress you or simply give a small present by drawing you or something you like, or at least make the attempt since some of the "fine pieces" as they call them, they give you are like children's school projects.
And, man, about the hair, are you blessed to have the glam diva Paul by your side to give advice and constructive criticism to your hair. He will help you choose the color and will give it style from time to time if you accept. The process to dye it will be so much fun, and so chaotic; experimenting with the pigments ends up with wounds caused from the bleach and the currently used wardrobe disposed later.
A thing they love about you is that you can stand up for yourself if needed, but they rather you not to, because they know you handle yourself and the others well, maybe too well for your good. Paul tries to take care of you as much as he can so there is no need for you to possibly get hurt. It was enough trying to control Marko so he didn't get involved in some stupid street fight every night at the boardwalk to now have to worry daily about you too. Marko shares the passion for the adrenaline of this and will think it is hot as hell, but he protects you as much as Paul, maybe a bit softer than him about it tho, but if you're in the middle of a fight and it starts to get worse than expected, he dead ass will force you to back off. He'll finish the business himself, sweetheart.
As for your love language, don't worry, these dorks will accept you playful pushes with joy, and they'll give you some of them too. But if you accidentally flip and fall some meters before hitting ground, you know the rule: laugh first, help second.
Oh, and you better get prepared for the bullying. You're the smallest in the group, so that leads to a constant attack as a hobbit. Marko joins the quip, but I mean, he'll get humiliated along. Let's just say Paul gives you two a hard time about it. With all the love of course.
They love to get out with you and the others and go to the boardwalk, but they try to take you out on days it is not that crowded, or in hours where a small amount of souls are having a stroll. But, if you happen to go out on a crowded night, they will keep you focused on having a good time, but just mention your getting uncomfortable and you'll be back at the cave in less than a minute.
Paul and Marko really love your style, they think it looks badass and try to match tough outfits with you from time to time. Giving you cool shirts and leather jackets with some patches on them that they think are awesome. Don't ask why some of the clothes have strange-colored stains on them tho.
They go with you to get you ears or nose pierced from the moment you three decided doing it diy style was a bad idea cuz y'all ended up with a bleeding nose and an ear infection the first time of trying it, and because there's no voice of reason in the threesome, Star and Dwayne had to give you kids a very long lecture of not doing those things by yourself.
#match-ups#Ghost#my writings#paul the lost boys#marko the lost boys#i just think u three together would be neat#the lost boys#i repeat my friend:#thank you so much for the request
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Garden: Chapter 1
Astrid Hofferson/Viggo Grimborn: hoping you never find out who i really am, cause i love you, just how you are.
Chapter one:
Ysir was only sixteen when she was married to Arne Hofferson, who at the time, was twenty-nine. She did not know the man well, aside from the fact that he would come and visit her father during the weekends and she would have to serve them mead. He was quite young, she would think, and quite handsome as well. These thoughts were innocent, she wouldn’t have expected her father to call her in one day and announce to the family that he was planning on getting her married to Arne, with her consent, of course. Her father had told her that Arne was a good man and would take care of her well, but she knew that he was really just saying that she was just a burden, and getting rid of her would leave him with one less family member to worry about feeding. She tried not to think much about it, because honestly, it made sense. They were a big family - one man running the house, with ten children to feed. Her family was poor, and she was often reminded of this fact at her husband's home:
Be thankful. When you came here, you had nothing.
And this was said to her by Frida, Arne's first wife, his first love. When Ysir had questioned Arne on why he decided to marry again, he explained to her that Frida was who he loved, and she was where his loyalties lie. He married her simply because she could give birth, and Frida could not.
Ysir often felt like Frida could throw her out of this house at any time, and what would happen then? Where would she go? Her father would never agree to take her back, not with so many mouths to feed. Bloody hell! She first thought, her eyes prickling with tears as she tried to figure out a way to get Frida out of the house. She could always throw Frida out of the house - the house did now belong to her, considering she held more power and a better position in the family because she could give birth, but then Arne would kick her out and bring Frida back in. She just couldn't think hard enough.
Eventually, she gave up, and came to realize that she didn't really care if her husband didn't love her, and saw her as an tool he would use to produce offsprings. She didn't even love her husband, heck, she barley even knew the man! So she came to a decision that she would play her role as a wife and take care of the house and bear him children in return for a comfortable bed, good food, and a roof that doesn't leak over her head.
But it wasn't so easy. Living with another woman in the house came with some complications, from the awkward conversation they'd have while preparing dinner to the uncomfortable eye contact they would make from time to time. Frida was beautiful. She had a strong face, with her cheekbones being the most noticeable feature on her face. Her brick-red hair was parted in the middle and formed into perfect waves that reached her waist. Her hazel eyes were carefully lined with kohl. In comparison to that, Ysir had a chubby face, short shaggy black hair, and bright blue eyes. There wasn't much you could say about her.
She felt like an uninvited quest in the house, moving around the house, around the bedroom, in which she slept alone most days for Arne usually slept with Frida in a bigger bedroom, upstairs. She felt like a fly, unwanted and annoying. That is, until now. Everything would be different with the birth of this baby, she assured herself. She would no longer feel ill at ease, no longer insecure.
Almost against her will, Ysir glanced towards the doorway, where Frida stood, a hand on her hip. For an instant, the two women locked gazes. The air around them felt thick and slightly yeasty, like rising dough. They had shared a room for twelve hours, with Frida helping the midwife with towels and water. Frida averted her gaze. She nodded towards the baby.
"Why doesn't she make a sound?" Frida said, with a hardness on her face that hadn't been there before.
"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Ysir turned ashen. Having had six miscarriages in only a few years, each more devastating than the last and harder to forget, she had been extremely careful throughout this pregnancy.
"Can I hold her?" Asked Ysir, holding the sides of her hair softly, an anxious habit she had picked up over the past year. "She...she's not crying. Why is she not crying?"
"Oh, she will cry, this girl," the midwife said in a decisive tone and instantly bit her tongue. She herself was worried. Her words echoed like a dark omen.
An awkward silence settled over the room as the first wife, the second wife and the midwife all stared at the baby with expectant eyes.
The midwife took the baby to the other side of curtain, and Ysir could hear rapid movement alongside the midwife's heavy breathing.
"Please," Ysir sighed, speaking to no one in particular as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Please!" She cried out again. Every night since she found out she was pregnant, she would talk herself to sleep. It was comforting. Just to mumble things to her self, especially about the baby.
My baby will be kind, and loving. Everyone will love you. She would speak to her slightly swollen belly, happily. My baby will be beautiful. You will make a difference. You will be gentle and soft. You will be beautiful. I will love you. You will love me. We will be happy.
But it was different today, she was crying. After months of being cautious with every step she took and after months of isolating her self in her room to stay away from all that was toxic - Frida and Arne- just so this baby would live. Just so this baby could arrive safe and healthy. "Please!" She cried out. My baby will survive.
At last! Whoever it was she was crying out to had answered her prayers. The baby had started crying- shrieking. The baby had started shrieking. The voice of the child echoed around the house and into the neighbor's house. A series of "Thank Thor!" And sighs of relief could be heard from the other room, where Arne and his family with a couple of his friends were waiting.
The midwife began to panic as the fierce baby began to move uncontrollably in her arms, kicking and waving her arms and legs in the air. The midwife clumsily handed the baby to Ysir, whose eyes were filled with tears.
The baby stopped crying and her big blue eyes had widened as it stared at the women above who was smiling down at her. The baby blinked and her head shifted a little to right, now staring at the Frida, who now stood next to Ysir. Then her gaze went back to Ysir and again she began crying.
You see, while Ysir was screaming in agony for the past twelve hours, this little one was conversing with herself instead of trying of escape from the womb.
What is wrong with you? Her heart said. They're all waiting for you! Come one! Kick!
Her gut said, Oh, I like it here. It's warm and cozy. I don't want to go!
Her heart protested, Don't be silly! Why stay in a place where nothing happens? It's so boring.
But why leave a place where nothing happens? It's safe here. Her gut said.
Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong. Her heart countered. No turning back.
No turning back.
She finally reached a conclusion, she would go with the heart. And finally when she pushed out, and was taken behind the curtain, and the midwife had slapped her bottom once, twice and she began crying. She hadn't expected it to be this fucking cold! She began shrieking.
Ysir chuckled at the exchange she had with her baby when she had quieted down. Frida had opened the door and slipped outside - no doubt to give the news to her husband - their husband.
A couple of minutes later, Arne entered the room. Smiling, he approached the bed. He looked at the baby, at the second wife, at the midwife, at the first wife, nodding at her, and finally back at the baby.
"Odin! I thank you! You've accepted my prayers."
"A girl," Ysir said softly, in case he was not yet aware.
"I know. The next one will be a boy. We will name him Eric." He ran his fingers across the baby's forehead. "All that matters is she is healthy. Thank Odin! This baby is not mine, nor is she yours. She was sent a gift."
Ysir stared at him with pure confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, she was seized by a feeling of apprehension, like a wild animal that was about the walk into a trap. She glanced at Frida, who was standing by the entrance, lips pursed so tight they were almost white as her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Something about her demeanor suggested that she was overjoyed and excited, suspiciously excited.
"This baby was gifted to us by the the Gods!" Arne said.
"All babies are," murmured the midwife.
Arne then held his younger wife's hand and look her straight in the eyes. "We'll give this baby to Frida."
"What in Thor's name are you talking about?" Ysir rasped.
"Let Frida raise her. She'll do an excellent job. You and I will make more children."
"No!"
"You don't want more kids?"
"I am not going to let that woman take my daughter."
Arne drew in a breath, then released it slowly.
"Don't be selfish. The Gods have given you this baby. Be grateful. You were barley scraping by when you came to this house. Come on, It's not-"
"This was her idea, wasn't it?" Ysir interrupted him - something she had never done before. "Did she come up with this?" Or have you two been plotting for months? Behind me back."
"Don't be stupid. You are young. Frida is getting old. She will never have a child of her own. Give her a gift."
Ysir shook her head, and kept doing so. Arne sighed and leaned over and held her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him. Only then she became still.
"You're not being rational." Arne said, his palm softly rubbing Ysir's back. "We're all in the same house. You'll see your daughter everyday. It's not like she will be going away, for Thor's sake."
Trembling to hold back the pain ripping through her chest, Ysir covered her face with the palm of her hands. "And who will my daughter call 'Mummy'?"
"What difference does it make? Frida can be Mummy, and you'll be Auntie. We'll tell her the truth when she gets older, no need to confuse her little head now. When we have more kids, they will all be brothers and sisters anyway. They'll be running riot in the house. You won't be able to tell who belongs to who. We'll all be one big family."
"And who is going to nurse the baby?" Asked the midwife. "The mummy or the auntie?"
Arne's head shot up towards the midwife as he stared at the nosy woman with annoyance. He sighed and dug into his pocket, bringing out a small sack of five gold coins.
"Here." He handed her the sack. "A token of our gratitude."
The midwife smiled and nodded, stepping back.
"Let me name her." Ysir said. If she wasn't going to raise the child as her own she could at least live happily with the knowledge that she was the one that named her.
"Well alright then." Arne said. "We will make the decision together."
"I was thinking," Frida said, her eyes fixated on the baby, "For the past few months, that if it was a boy, we would name it Erik, like Arne said. But since, she's a girl, we could name her Camicazi. It's a beautiful name."
"Oh, that's quite a lovely name. I like that." Arne said, happily, and the midwife nodded in agreement, standing behind him.
Ysir blinked. It was a beautiful name. But she wasn't going to give Frida the privilege of naming her own baby.
"No." Ysir said, strong and clear. "I will name her. By myself.
Arne and Frida exchanged glances.
"Oh." Frida sighed, "Of course." She then sat down on a chair, pushing it towards the right, so she could be next to her husband.
Ysir felt pressure as the midwife, her husband, and his wife stared at her, waiting for her to decide.
She looked at her baby, who was staring back at her. She is beautiful. Ysir thought. The baby rolled around, the sunlight reflecting on her rosy cheeks.
"Astrid." Ysir said. "It was also my grandmother's name. And...she's beautiful, just like her."
"Astrid..." Arne repeated and then looked at Frida who nodded back at him in approval. "I like it. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."
"Astrid!" He said again as he took the baby from Ysir's arms and lifted her in air. Frida laughed, "Be careful! She's not toy!"
Arne and Frida laughed as they took turns in holding the baby. Ysir sighed and leaned her head back, silent tears dropping down her face. She wish she could be as happy as them.
Arne held Astrid and opened the door, walking to the other room, where the rest of the relatives and his friends were waiting. His voice echoed around Ysir's head.
"Astrid Hofferson!" Arne happily yelled. "Her name is Astrid Hofferson!"
#astrid hofferson#astrid#rtte viggo#viggo grimborn#race to the edge#viggstrid#httyd#fanfiction#writing#vigstrid
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Paint My Wings With Your Heat
Mads💗: wingfic! Wingfic! I'm very excited to write this with @starkerkeyz and what should've been a one-shot got… a whole lot longer. But that seems the norm. Hope you guys enjoy the intro!
Keyz 💖: Wingfic has been so fun! I’m glad it was brought up in starker and that Mads agreed to rp it with me. This one-shot definitely grew but I think you’re all going to love it!Tumblr note: also check out Keyz's awesome moodboard in this post!!
WC: 3898
(AO3 Link)
Also check out Keyz's awesome moodboard in this post!!
Notes: ABO dynamics, intersex omegas, wing kink, in-flight fucking, knotting, courting, soulmate au
💗💖💗💖
Tony rubs at his nose and squints harder at the screen. His nose has been tickling at him on and off and endlessly in between ever since Peter stepped out for- something. He isn’t sure what. Or when, really. But he does know that this code's going to work for him by the end of the night or he would sacrifice DUM-E to Thor for inspiration.
Tony smiles at the thought of Thor playing fetch with his boy and then rubs his tickling nose and turns his head to the side. He isn’t sure why (he's actually in the middle of reading that, thanks) but then his eyes land on the feather.
It’s a soft gray and white. It looks innocent enough except that Tony can smell the enticing scent of omega and mate from a mile off.
It makes his blood quicken in his veins and Tony snatches it up before he can think better of it. He runs the oils over the tips of his fingers and shivers from the low sheen left behind. He nearly touches those same fingertips to his wrist when he gets ahold of himself.
Peter’s left him a beacon feather.
Or, more probably, he’s accidentally shed one, not knowing the significance. It can be hard to realize how potent a reaction the scent can have on an alpha, especially if it’s an omega’s first mating season.
Like Peter’s.
Tony puts the feather down (reluctantly) and pointedly wipes his fingers on his pants instead of his body.
He needs to be respectful. Peter probably has no idea what that signaled to Tony. How very tempting it would be to accept that kind of offer and roost away with Peter all season, fucking him full of their fledglings for the year. Gods. Peter would make the best mother to Tony’s young.
But he needs to know what he's getting into.
Tony could… show him. If he wants. Play mating flights could be performed in any one of the gyms. Play mating could be done here, in the lab.
It could be done as soon as Peter gets back.
Tony glances at the feather. Touches it. Licks his lips and strokes a single fingertip down the shaft.
He’ll put it on the table. Peter is young and naive about some things, but he deserves the option to choose to learn. Tony hopes he says yes with an adjustment of his pants.
Outside the lab, Peter peers in through the clear glass walls. His wings rustle around him nervously and he's fiddling with one of the primary feathers.
He lets go of it once he realizes what he's doing. It's a bad habit Peter has but he's always messed with his feathers instead of preening when he gets nervous.
He feels like he has the perfect excuse to be nervous though. He's shed his very first beacon feather and even though he thinks it's so… mediocre looking, he left it right on Tony's lab table.
Peter experiences a roller coaster of emotions when his boss finally notices the feather but then his heart sinks. Tony had handled it like it was… offensive. Barely touching it and wiping away any residual oil on his pants.
He can literally feel his heart sink all the way to his stomach then down through the soles of his feet and even further than that. His wings droop but then he fluffs them up, trying to cheer himself up.
He doesn't want to smell upset or anxious. Maybe… Maybe Tony's just not looking for a mate. Yet.
That's what he tells himself when he reenters the lab, carrying the paperwork he retrieved earlier.
He holds it close to his chest, tucking his wings even closer to his body. He's gotten better at maneuvering around the lab, but he still has an embarrassing tendency to knock something over.
"I got the reports," Peter says with a cheerful chirp. "Made sure they sent the right ones this time, Mr. Stark."
Maybe he could… just slip the beacon feather back into his pocket or something…? Minimize the embarrassment he already feels.
“Peter!” Tony says his name like he’s been caught doing something wrong.
He swivels around in his chair and flares his wings out automatically, alpha to omega, exactly like he’d been planning not to do. He's supposed to bring the topic up calmly and professionally, not present his interest immediately like a rutting alpha with no manners.
Peter almost drops the reports at the presentation but his grip tightens so much that his knuckles turn white. The bright colors of Tony's wings have always mesmerized him and he gapes stupidly in response to the display.
His own wings flutter but he's too shocked to do anything else.
Tony brings his fiery red wings back to heel, the bright gold coloring flashing at the tips of his primaries like metallic paint as they curl forward and around his body.
“Well. Um. Sorry about that, Peter, but I wanted to mention, I think you accidentally left this in here,” Tony says as he picks up the beacon feather delicately. He holds it out to Peter and hopes his eyes don’t show how much he wants to eat him up.
Peter's eyes drop to the offered feather.
Accidentally… The words are there on the tip of his tongue, an outright denial that there isn't anything accidental about it. But he bites his lip because if Tony's trying to give him a less embarrassing out, he should take it.
He reaches for it, intent on tucking it away apologizing profusely but the look in Tony's eyes makes his breath catch. He's never seen that look before and his brows twitch, trying to decipher it.
The alpha keeps talking though and Peter perks up in attention.
“And, well, I don’t know how much you know about beacon feathers,” Tony hadn’t known anything. His father and mother hadn’t thought it important to teach an alpha. “But they’re really important. And they can… They can affect an alpha. Make them want you. And I just wanted to make sure you knew about that so you didn’t leave them and attract an alpha you don’t want, you know?”
Tony’s pupils dilate as he goes on. His voice doesn’t change to reflect his inner lust; he’s too practiced at controlling himself.
Peter nods dumbly, fingers closing around the tip of the beacon feather. He still doesn't tug it, waits for Tony to release it since these delicate things are so fragile.
He's not sure where this conversation is going but there's an undercurrent of something coming. Something exciting.
“And I wanted to offer, entirely optional, if you needed or wanted a mentor for a play mating session, or to run a practice mating flight with, I wouldn’t mind helping you out. This will be your first season, right? I want you to be prepared and comfortable.” Tony says and thinks I want you to be mine.
He doesn’t think that’d go over very well. He’s halfway convinced Peter will be disgusted by this offer of play mating.
Peter is so young and beautiful; ripe and fertile and ready for the picking.
Tony wants Peter to have all the tools he needs to pick the best alpha to father his fledglings every season.
The offer is even more shocking than Tony's abrupt presentation.
Peter feels… faint. The papers slip from his arm and falls, scattering all over them.
"Oh, God," Peter bemoans, dropping to the floor and scrabbling to pick them up. His face flushes a cherry red. "I'm– I'm so sorry, I'm so– clumsy. I–"
“It’s okay, kid. Here, I’ve got you.” Tony hops out of his chair and then pops down to begin scooping up the papers, thinking Peter was mortified with his offer. He’s clearly read the signals wrong. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.
No matter how old you get, rejection is always embarrassing and Tony could feel his cheeks heating as red as his wings.
Peter’s wings settle around him, the very bottoms pooling around him on the floor. His heart is beating so fast and he almost thinks he made the whole thing up in his head.
Tony, proposing playmating? To him? Practice flights?
Abruptly, he jerks his head up with the realization that he hasn't answered the man.
"It will be my first… season…" Peter says shyly.
“I don’t want you to feel nervous about it. The TV shows can make it seem intense, and it is, but it’s also… well, the poets and the scholars all talk about how beautiful and natural it is, but honestly? It’s pretty damn fun, too. And I just want you to be comfortable going into it.” Tony schools his expression and sets the papers on the desk and out of the way.
He keeps his wings to himself and very pointedly doesn’t touch the younger man. No pressure. Peter can reject him with no repercussions.
Peter fights against the urge to use a wing to cover his face. He shouldn't… His end goal is to have Tony as a mate, not as a mentor. But then again… Maybe… Maybe he could prove how good of a mate he could be and maybe then Tony would want him…?
"I think I'd like that, sir," Peter bites his bottom lip, "If you, um, don't mind… You don't have to either, Mr. Stark… I could… learn on my own or…"
There are local groups that help guide omegas like him. Group flights and classes… He shudders at the thought of attending them and would probably rather just… not fly at all.
His crush on his boss is too strong. His wings and his heart won't let him get caught by anyone else.
It takes Tony longer than it should to register what Peter means. His eyes widen and his wings mantle hopefully, eager for this sweet smelling omega.
“I don’t mind. I like teaching you.” Tony says with a smile.
Peter learns everything he sets his mind to faster than anyone else Tony’s had the chance to work with yet. He’s incredible and such a kind soul on top.
“Whenever you want, just let me know. I’ll teach, but you lead.”
There. Break up the power structure between them a little and maybe Tony wouldn’t feel so guilty. Peter’s of age but he’s so young (this is his very first season!) and Tony doesn’t want to corrupt him.
He does sort of wish he could take the feather back though. Maybe make a necklace out of it. Treasure it, when Peter picked some other alpha closer to his age season by season.
Peter's wide-eyed by then. He drops his eyes, mind racing.
What does he want…? Is it really just as easy as Peter opening his mouth and telling the older man, "Sex. I want to know about sex. I want to know about alphas and not just about alphas but about you–"
The color in his cheeks deepens and he squirms.
He dares a peek at the older man. This is entirely embarrassing. It's taken them months to get used to each other and Peter's never been so shy around Tony but of course, revealing his feelings and being completely misunderstood… It'd bring him down but his heart's beating in excitement.
"I don't know what I want," Peter admits. Besides you. "I don't know how the mating flights work or even… What attracts an alpha? These–" He holds up his poor, rejected beacon feather. "Is it… Is this one not good? Shape? Color? Oil's too… I don't know. Why didn't you… like it?"
He wants to know what Tony likes but he can't outright ask him. He looks at him, hopeful for answers.
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Tony says immediately.
He isn’t sure what gave the kid that impression. It’s one of the most distracting things in the world; it actually managed to pull Tony Stark from his work in under 5 minutes.
Tony extends a hand and trails a knuckle up the shaft, wings rustling as Peter’s oil rich pheromones sink into his callouses like a perfume. Tony inhales deeply and feels the urge to run the golden edges of his wings across Peter’s still attached mating feathers for more.
Peter's hit, suddenly and unexpectedly, with a jolt of arousal when Tony touches the feather. Even when it's no longer attached to him, this simple act feels indescribably intimate, as though Tony's touching him directly.
He presses his wings even closer to his body, trying to trap the rising scent of arousal. He doesn't know if he's succeeded.
“It smells- you smell- really good,” Tony parts his lips and drops his hand before he tries taking the beacon feather for himself. “But I can’t keep it when you don’t know what it means or what it’ll do to me.”
He’d start following Peter around, tailing him with the instinct to collect more feathers and keep any rivals away. He’d get the urge to scent him, the urge to rub their wings together. It would be like Peter tying Tony to himself with a rope until the feather loses its scent or the season hits and Peter accepts or rejects him.
Somehow, Tony doesn’t think Peter wants a shadow in his forties with bad knees and bad memories following him around like a horny, winged puppy.
Peter's breath has turned shallow and subconsciously, his wings fan out around him. The subtle scent of aroused omega starts to taint the air and he blushes when he catches it. He can't undo it though so looks from Tony to the feather and back again.
He bites his lip again, wondering if he may be going too far. But they've just agreed to do this so maybe not?
Tony’s eyes snap from the feather to Peter’s lips. His wings rustle and shift into a half spread, nearly vibrating in anticipation.
"What can it do to– to alphas?" Peter manages not to outright ask about Tony but that's essentially the question.
He knows these feathers are left for potential mates, but his senses as a mature omega have only recently sharpened. All the… scents are still confusing for him to interpret. His feathers aren't pretty, at all. He has, previously, bemoaned the fact, so sure that the dull whites and greys would do nothing to attract a mate like Tony.
But maybe, he's wrong. The way Tony eyes the feather makes his chest tighten and his insides want to melt. He wants to offer the feather, wants to tuck it into Tony's dark hair and just have it known that this alpha is his.
The strength of those thoughts are almost terrifying in its intensity but to Peter, it feels right
“Oh, Peter.” Tony stands up straighter at the smell of aroused omega combined with that innocent question. He watches him intently, shoulders rolling and eyes lidding in calculation. All at once, the half spread of his wings goes from inviting to predatory, the metallic gold color at the ends of his wings promising to envelop the smaller gray-white of Peter’s own.
Tony’s wings quiver for the hunt.
“It will make me want to court you. Remind me of you, tempt me. All through the day.” Tony’s voice has gone dark and warm. He wants, very badly, to pin Peter down and show him what his mate scent has done to him.
Peter leans in close like Tony's very words lure him in. His lips softly part, his heart picking up speed cause he very much likes the picture Tony's painting.
“I’ll want to follow you around. I probably will, since we work together. I’ll want to provide you food, and since we’re so close, I’ll actually do it, too. I’ll touch you.” Tony’s bigger, golden primaries stroke through Peter’s, feathers interlocking and dragging through each other. Tony’s eyes were almost all black with his arousal.
The only reason Peter hasn’t clued in on Tony’s response is his inexperience with scenting on the alpha/omega level and the fact he hasn’t looked down at Tony’s groin.
Peter shudders in clear ecstasy. His wings have felt so sensitive lately. It has to do with the shedding and that mating season is so soon… He may not know much about mating habits, but his body seems to know something.
The muscles flex, making the individual rows of feathers fan out more. It makes it easier for an alpha to spread his scent, easier for Tony to leave his own oils along Peter's whites and greys.
“I’ll want to touch you all the time. If we didn’t work together, it would just be an urge I felt whenever I smelled the feather. A growing bond. But since we do work together,” Tony’s voice is even deeper now. Husky. “I’ll probably be unconsciously scenting you. Touching you whenever you’re in reach.”
He drags his golden edges against Peter again. A part of him wishes he really was dipped in paint so that he could leave streaks of gold claim behind wherever he touches.
“I’ll be compelled to. The more compatible we are, the stronger the urges. The more beacon feathers you give me,” Here Tony’s voice nearly broke with longing. “If you give me any more, that is. They would have a compounding effect. More feeding. More nesting. More touching. More everything.”
Peter shivers at the words. It's almost a promise …
He wants all that. Everything. The courting, the scenting… He'd give every single beacon feather he had just to have Tony look at him. But he only has the one in his hands.
With a pounding heart, he looks at his mentor with a blush on his cheeks.
"Are we compatible, Mr. Stark…?" He asks and he can't bear to look Tony in the eye. He shakes his head profusely. "Y-You don't have to answer that. That was probably so awkward."
He thrusts the beacon feather at the older man.
"You can, um, keep it if you want," Peter forges on. "There isn't anyone– I mean, if you're going to… teach me… I want to give it to you… If you want it…"
His ears must be such a bright red color but besides feeling embarrassed over his fumbling words and actions, Peter feels like he's in the clouds. Just a slight twitch of his muscles and his wings spread out in offering, hoping…
Tony looks at the feather with yearning. He shouldn’t. He gets obsessive as a personality trait and with such easy access to Peter, he’ll be scenting him and getting the urge to mount him non-stop in the weeks to come.
That thought has him remembering his offer about practice flights and play mating with a twitch of the tent in his pants. He could imagine pinning Peter down and surrounding him with Tony’s red and gold wings, enveloping him in Tony’s alpha dominance and posturing.
If play mating is still on the table, then he needs to consider Peter mature enough to make his own decision regarding who he gives his beacon feathers to.
Plus, the kid looks so hopeful with his big puppy eyes and fluffy grey-white feathers.
“We’re compatible.” Tony plucks the feather up out of his grasp before he can think better of it. He’s never liked lying to the people he likes.
The relief that washes over him feels like a cool waterfall. The confirmation of what he's hoped for since he became an intern here sends him back to cloud nine.
They're compatible and Peter wants to step forward and get a good scenting in. He wants to learn Tony's alpha scent. It's only fair now that he's becoming familiar with Peter's own emerging omega scent.
He feels giddy with excitement, but that all changes with the next thing the alpha does.
Tony runs the coveted feather over his wrist and then his throat. He sighs softly. Peter’s mate scent was so invigorating from off of his own skin.
Tony looks at Peter with eyes nearly swallowed by pupil.
All that bubbly excitement turns to molten hot heat when the alpha trails his feather over his skin. That… That has to mean something, right? His brain just short-circuits because using Peter's feather like that… it seems almost indecent.
Peter stares back, breath caught, nose tickled by the scent of something that turns his brain to mush. His wings quiver with a slight tremble and they've never done that before.
“Peter. Thank you for this. I want to make sure you’re prepared. Anything you need, I’ll get it for you. Any questions, I’ll answer. Your first season is going to be amazing.” Tony says, taking it upon himself to make it so. For Peter.
"I–"
Peter isn't even sure what to say because he may not be in heat yet, but it feels like he's on the very verge. Every breath he pulls in, he recognizes more and more the situation he's found himself in.
And it excites him.
But it also terrifies him because he has absolutely no idea what he's doing.
Tony advances a step and then brings his other foot level. His wings spread out, red and gold spilling around them like a curtain of feathers. He wants to knock wings with the young omega, wrestle and rub their scents together until he could maneuver Peter down and under him, where he belongs.
Tony’s wings shake with leashed need. The golden tips tremble in coiled anticipation.
The air is spiced with a deeper scent, something dark and rich– different from an omega's. It makes Peter feel hot, almost burning and he fidgets in place, wings spreading even wider to dissipate some of the heat blooming inside him.
He's smelling Tony, Peter realizes, and it's with a dawning sense of horror that he feels his insides turn molten and he's going to–
"T-Thank you, sir," he chokes out. "I trust you– I… Thank you! I need to… go pick up the equipment from floor 60."
Tony fans his wings out in mirror to Peter’s; shifts his weight onto the balls of his feet. The painted gold ends of his primaries trail the ground. They shake from the shivery omegan need flavoring the air around them.
Expectant.
Ripe.
Peter takes off in a sprint towards the open balcony doors. Who needs the elevators when they can free fall towards the necessary floor? Flying too much during the workday would tire anyone out, but Peter thinks this is necessary.
He needs the biting cold of the rushing wind to cool him off before he actually slicks up right in front of his boss.
Peter either isn’t thinking or doesn’t realize what he’s done (or doesn’t know how to fly indoors because he’s a good boy that follows the rules) because he stays on foot.
Tony’s body comes alive with the chase, sudden and unstoppable with the need to hunt his potential mate down and lay his claim. His skin tingles and flushes and between his legs his cock grows thicker in excitement.
There’s no way Tony can hold back. No stopping the all consuming instinct thrumming through every vein, bone and muscle. In less than a second it’s like he had become a force of nature.
Tony scoops his wings through the air and launches after his young mate.
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"I, um---" Her lunch break's nearly over so he's gonna keep this brief, like she probably wants. "I made you somethin' while you was gone last year." He hands her a package, the unmistakable emblem of ReSkull Clothing printed on the plastic. "Don't open it here, a'ight? Wait 'til you home. Thought I'd never see you again so I jus' been lettin' it catch dust in my trailer. You don't hafta keep it but, it's better wit' you than me, ya feel? See you 'round." He's gone before she knows it.
A few hours later and the parcel still lies unwrapped on the end of her bed. Within Max’s proximity, close enough to reach out and discover its content, yet she ignores the call of curiousity with all of her might like it’s not yelling to unravel the big secret. Guzma has had mentioned his new, his own clothing brand with a new kind of pride he never wore like this before. She knows the present must be related to it, if the ever familiar skull and its new crown of the ReSkull Emblem was any hint towards it.
When Guzma handed her the parcel, he gave Max no chance to utter a response or to reject the gesture - before she could, he had left the young woman in a stupor and disappeared as fast as the wind. Max remembers how she stared after him until she was called back inside by her colleague. Something about the act, the way Guzma left before facing the possibility of rejection, had felt so bittersweet that she could not bring herself to leave the parcel at work.
Still, it’s been hours. And the parcel remains wrapped. And Max picks up plenty other things that suddenly need doing. Like cleaning up - yep, it’s been a while since those shelves had had a proper dusting. And the state of their TV! With Pokémon fur clinging to every possible surface and screen in this cozy little apartment, she’ll be kept plenty busy and surprise Rosie with a clean home, uh huh. Max, of course, doesn’t just leave it at dusting - not when she can hoover and sweep the floors as well.
With music turned up to full volume and upbeat songs she loves to sing along to blasting from the speakers, she passes and crosses the untouched package at least fifteen times before Max ultimately decides that there’s no putting off anymore. The rooms are squeaky clean, she has had a shower, no dishes need washing anymore, and as nice as keeping distracted had felt, the evergrowing tightness in her chest to get it over and done with wins this battle in the end. Besides… this needs to happen before Rosie gets home.
Her fingers tighten in the hem of a loose, purple shirt she had gotten comfy in. Then tells herself to take a deep breath because - because it’s just a present.
‘But it’s a present from Guzma, Max.’
Something he had made, for her, while she kept hundreds of miles away from these islands. When Max was on his mind when he wasn’t on hers.
‘Bullshit. Why do you keep telling yourself that?’
He made it not knowing if he could ever give it to her. Despite everything, the very least she can do for him is open it. Securing that Kili is still napping in his usual spot on the sofa, Max closes her bedroom door ever so quietly. With every passing second her heart beat picks up pace until the drumming of blood pulsates in her ears. Then, at last, she takes her place on the edge of her bed and crosses her legs beneath her body. Her fingers pick at the plastic and pull it closer to herself. Chants within her mind to not dissociate now, that she can do this, that all she needs is to take a breath and then another.
There we go. Once the parcel is placed in the center of her lap and a pair of scissors slice along the upper edge, it feels a little easier to proceed. She peels away the plastic, lets it drop to the floor and lays out the garment across her duvet. A black leather jacket. It’s lined with dust pink taffeta while pink stitches decorate the seams and adorn the piece of clothing with something equally feminine and coarse alike. She can tell that every stitch was placed by his own hands, that the pieces were cut out and sewn together to fit a sheer visual memory of her shape. Nothing about it looks artificial. And it is its very uniqueness that holds Max’s heart in a deadlock because it was made only for the person who he hoped would wear it one day and that’s why he held onto it until now. A beautifully crafted garment and testimonial of his talents. She traces the silver and pink studs before turning the jacket to inspect the back - and that’s when her heart stops.
Babygirl
The hot pink letters stretch all across the back, shoulder to shoulder, in Guzma’s unmistakeable, artistically messy handwriting. Slightly misplaced to the left and beneath the letters, silky, purple stitches shape a fist-sized embroidery of the ReSkull emblem.
Her hands snap back immediately as though she had burned herself, pushing the jacket off of her legs when she jumps up, chasing to her coat to fumble for her pack of cigarettes and the lighter. The balcony door falls shut hard, but even two cigarettes after, her nerves don’t feel any calmer. She’s shaking all over, arms crossed atop the railing and forehead pressed down on her palms. No, she needs a third - fuck her lungs, or that this habit will really kick her in the ass soon, Max’s already fishing out another and hisses a curse when it nearly takes a five story dive. “Fuck,” she whispers in between every exhale, drowning herself in blue smoke and nicotine. “Fuck.”
What the hell was he thinking? By giving her that - it’d could’ve been a present she’d easily, happily accept, but the meaning behind the letters ran too deep, triggered too much, opened a hole in her chest that she just hasn’t managed to close yet. Entwined with a familiar beast she simply cannot feed, for it hungers for the past, for something new, starving for the one thing she never had moved on from. The beast’s name is longing, and it’s rearing its head with a loud, deafening growl.
What was he thinking when he made it, though? Was he holding on to the past, or was he maybe processing the things he had lost with it? He did say he thought he’d never see her again…. so, wishful thinking perhaps? Some part of Max feels angry he gave her the parcel today, but he’s always been really fucking impulsive, hasn’t he? The empathetic part within her can’t blame him. Sitting on something for so long, while telling yourself you never, ever get to show it to the person it’s meant to be for - it must hurt. No, it really fucking hurts. She knows what it’s like. Still. Max scoffs very loudly while she squeezes the cig dead in her ashtray, and flips off the unsuspecting sky as a substitute for everything that has gone wrong in her life.
She goes back inside.
The jacket remains untouched for the rest of the night.
The next day, she hangs it up in her closet.
The day after, Max finally feels like she’s getting over something and takes it out again, when Rosie’s gone because Rosie can’t know. Appreciates the front side only without turning it around, allowing herself to feel impressed by Guzma’s craftsmanship. He’s always had a knack for designing, but this? A crazy step up from Team Skull gear. It’s - it’s really good. No, it’s beautiful.
Max skips two days before she’ll look at it again, but this time, she decides to face her fear and takes in the whole thing. Heat rises to her face nonetheless when she traces the pink letters, drowning out memories of all the times she has loved him call her ‘babygirl’.Max
Part of Max wonders how she’d look wearing it. This part’s quickly being shut up, though, and instead, Max finally reaches for her phone. Writing and reading comes easier now, she doesn’t rely on voice-to-text as much anymore, but this text still takes up a very, very long time to compose.
Guzma’s phone will buzz twice that night.
[Text] You weren’t kidding when you said you found your thing. The jacket looks beautiful. Keep doing what you do.
[Text] i do mean that by the way
It takes a fortnight and some days for Max to muster up enough courage for the final step. For the picture she is about to send him, she even dolled herself up with make-up, a pair of skinny, torn jeans and pink boots with black laces. Though the real eye catcher is the jacket hugging her shape so perfectly for the very first time since he gave it to her, it’s like she had been born into it. Guzma really had memorized her so perfectly, hasn’t he? It’s a bittersweet feeling, but…… she turns to the mirror nevertheless and crooks her red lips into a half-smile. Snap ….. and hit send a couple hours and a double-shot later.
[Picture Attachment] Perfect fit! Gonna wear it to my gig tonight. Come if you want?
[Text] Hey… thank you, by the way. i needed some time, but i love it
#skulldxddy#💀 Ash is our purest form (Guzmax)#💀 Arc: Help me find a way to pass the time (Post-Game)#HHHHHHH THIS ABSOLUTELY VERY IMPORTANT PART OF THE STORY#this ask really fucked me up and i had so much fun writing this oh my god#MAX GOT REAL FUCKED UP OVER IT BUT IT HAS A SEMI-HAPPY ENDING#i hope u like it aaaa
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hi! i don't know if you accept hc requests, and if you don't, thats completely fine! but i was scrolling through your tumblr and saw you're autistic. so my mind went; you're autistic, i'm autistic, and we both stan shouto. so? autistic shouto! if you'd rather not do this i completely understand! if you do want to write some, i'd really appreciate it if you could include what his meltdowns are like, his special interests are, and other stuff autistic people know personally. thank you so much!
>>> i stg my anons y'all are *clenches fist* so good
first let's address the elephant in the room. shouto always knew there was something different about him but we all know that end**vor would never had let any of his kids get tested for disabilities. shouto had no fucking clue he was autistic until he got into highschool where a few of his classmates were loud and proud about being autistic and it kinda just,,,dawned on him. like "hey i do that sometimes" or "hey i relate to that a lot" and then he would ask questions, like "do you ever feel...?" or "do you ever just do this...?" and eventually he kinda just went "well shit, i think i'm autistic"
i think maybe at some point he brings this up to some of his closest friends in class, like midoriya and iida, and he's super nervous about it because the whole concept is new to him that "hey, i'm not crazy or weird, this is just how some people are and that's okay!" so they go to get him tested because he wants to be 100% sure (that's just how he is) and yep, he's autistic, and they're all just so supportive and welcoming and it's a nice thing to finally be able to place a name to all the things he experiences
and onto those experiences: his triggers and meltdowns. i feel like shouto has two different kinds of meltdowns—the loud and manic and all over the place ones, and the silent, unemotive, non-responding ones. the loud ones are more anger and panic driven, whereas the silent ones are the more sad and exhausted ones.
like say, all day his senses have been just on blast. he can't really do anything about it at the time, so he just deals with it until he finishes the day but then at the dorms, everyone's bothering him (not on purpose of course) and it just becomes too much too quickly and he just shuts down. like automatically he stops talking, doesn't respond, it's complete shut down mode and he just can't deal with anything.
or on the flip side, something's frustrating him, someone says something that makes him extremely upset, his day just goes to shit but more stuff just keeps happening and happening and he kinda just loses control of himself for a bit. it's pure rage just shouting and tears and it's a mess, and of course he doesn't mean it when he lashes out at someone but having meltdowns of that level can be so difficult to control. it typically ends with him in a puddle of tears which sucks but you know how it is (he needs his alone time anyway, recovering from a meltdown can be hell)
i also feel like some of his main triggers are not only the sensory-based ones, but also things like the sound of a teakettle whistling because of certain things that happened in his youth, or the sound of someone stomping around outside his door, because it reminds him of training, the calm just before the storm. there are a few more that a bit harder to combat, like maybe not his own fire but fire being used against him, or extreme heat suddenly out of nowhere.
oh my god i just thought of this but what if soba is his samefood? oh my god soba is 100% his samefood. it's listed as his favorite food but you know every single chance he gets he will choose soba over everything. also he is definitely one of those kids that cuts the tags off literally everything he owns. his clothes don't have tags, he literally rips them all off the moment he buys them.
as for special interests, i'm not entirely sure to be honest! i know in one panel of the manga sero mentions barrowing the next manga in a series from shouto, so that kinda implies he owns all of them, which could be a good canidate! like he knows literally every bit of lore for the manga and participates in online fandom for the manga and just let's it consume him because special interests are the best. or maybe he just really likes aquatic animals he just thinks they're neat and then BOOM! it becomes one of his special interests. can you imagine, someone in shouto's general vicinity says anything about an obscure aquatic animal and he, having accidentally inserted himself into the conversation, literally infodumps about how that specific aquatic animal lives in this type of environment, and how cool it is that it has these specific habits that a creature like it shouldn't possible have, and on and on. honestly his friends probably find it endearing because seeing him so engaged and interested in something he likes is a win for everyone
okay so you know how todoroki is notorious for taking naps and being tired all the time? he's just socially exhausted 100% of the time and permanently tired as a result. this boy really gets out of school and immediately takes a nap. he almost dozes off during lunch because food is good (soba, of course) but so is sleep. this kid really spends a decent amount of time thinking about what a fat nap he's gonna take when he gets to his dorm.
in all seriousness though, he probably does get super socially drained very quickly. some people have the capacity for all that socializing, but he is not one of those people. at most he can take a little more than an average school day before he has to have a few hours to himself to recharge, and if he doesn't get that chance he gets progressively more and more shut in on himself because that's just too much people, man.
he's maybe also someone that has trouble with social cues. he gets it, but at the same time he just doesn't pick up on them sometimes. he won't realize that someone is waiting for his input, or that someone is upset with him or why. he works on it a lot because living in a single building with nineteen other kids his age has taught him that, despite his best efforts, it's not going to be easy to just do that. his friends do nudge him along, just to help him out, and he appreciates it sometimes because honestly? social cues can be real hard to read.
that's really all i can think of at the moment, but if i think of more i'll be sure to make another post! thank you for sending me this wonderful, absolute godsend of an ask, i'm super sorry if it wasn't exactly what you wanted, but i tried my best! thank you again for your ask anon! <3
(also, never be afraid to send in hc requests! i'm not 100% certain i'll be able to answer all of them, but i'll try to answer as many as i can!)
#bnha#bnha headcanons#todoroki shouto#bnha todoroki#half n half#autistic hc#autistic headcanon#i love this so much#is this: ultra projecting?#only kinda#anon#anonymous#send me your hcs and hc requests! i'm down rn and have nothing better to do!#does this qualify as a long post?#long post#ask
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Bitch Why Are You Like This: meeting Miss & Daddy (Jan 22)
A picture of me looking at me during the entire evening.
Starring: Daddy, Miss and a bitch (that's me!)
i've been thinking about my meeting with Miss and Daddy. Before that very moment, i have never felt young. Truly young - innocent, energetic, inexperienced, requiring guidance, in-over-my-head. Ever. Welcome to childhood, bitch.
Miss is fucking amazing. Although intense, she embodies the person i want to be. There's a quiet strength about her, a self-assurance, and she's beautiful. When the hostess pointed her out, i was quite sure i'd die before ever reaching the table. But here i am. Still living. While sitting at the table i marveled at how blessed i felt. Do i know what the fuck i'm doing? No. Do i know what i'm getting myself into? Hell no. But i trust in the experience Miss has, her thorough questioning, and deliberate actions.
For a moment, i wondered about sex trafficking. Atlanta is the sex trafficking hub of the nation, and to get women, sex traffickers often recruit other women. Because girls/women feel safer with and trust women more than men. With reason. But i requested to see and talk to her and Daddy was kind enough to let that happen.
And then in comes Daddy. i doubted He was real but He sure as fuck is, and boy do i feel little. It's not something i've ever experienced in my life. And i like it a lot (question mark?). i was pretty sure i was going to fuck some shit up and fuck some shit up i did. He told me to ask Him a question. i didn't feel i deserved to ask a question and quite frankly i was suffering from slight sensory overload and i didn't have a question to ask. Every question i had left my mind the moment He asked. Somehow, i found one - something about my age. i don't remember what i asked or His answer. i do remember getting comfortable and asking another question. He leans forward and says, "What part of one question do you not understand?" and i respond, "the one part." 🤦🏽♂️ Internally, i was yelling at myself to shut the fuck up.
And then He looked at me.
He looked *into* me
and i fell
When i was 4 or 5 or 6 (who the fuck knows honestly) my mother took me and my sister (who was 2 or 3 or 4) to a pool. i could somewhat swim but knew i should never cross 4 feet deep. Keeping this in mind, i jumped in the pool. And then i started drowning; the '4 feet' pool marker was missing and i thought i was jumping into 3 feet water. As i drowned, there was no panic. i felt no discomfort. i remember being surrounded by light blue waves. Looking up to see the sun shining through the water. i was at peace. There was no sound, there was no disturbance. And then i closed my eyes.
And when i opened them i was staring into Daddy's.
*still*
There's a common descriptor phrase - looking like a deer in headlights - and i have had the terribly unfortunate opportunity to witness this in reality in the passenger seat of my grandfather's jeep speeding toward a deer at 50 miles per hour.
and i am the deer
and the deer is me
drowning in water
over four feet deep
with eyes staring into Daddy's
Eventually i look away. And to mask my terror - that i could feel the depth of those experiences, i do the worst possible thing i could do in the moment: i look back at him defiantly & *i get smug*. And when i return my attention to Miss, i am smiling. Daddy asks Miss if i have signed the waiver yet and he says to get that done *as soon as possible*
A bitch is in trouble .
Should i be terrified for my life? Should i try to suck His ****? Who knows 🤷🏾♂️ (lxlzkzkzjkzjzb why am i like this! 😳🤣). Fuck Twilight AND ESPECIALLY fuck its fanfic 50 Shades, but Bella. Sweetie. If this is how you felt when Eddy-boy stared at you, i understand and im sorry for ever doubting you.
The night goes on. Daddy pours his coffee in a very particular manner. i am very thankful for Miss. They work well together. A perfect balance. She asks about me staring down Daddy and asks if i wanted to or felt like i should look away. Hell yeah i wanted to look away. i felt like i should look away. i wanted desperately to look away. i couldn't. And then it felt like maybe i shouldn't look away? Like what was this Man thinking i wondered. And when i caught myself looking i realized i kinda didn't want to stop? A bitch is a brat. Why do i poke the Lion? i don't knoooww 😭. Miss says she can't imagine me being submissive and that hurts a lot.
And of course in typical fashion of one who emotes (?) dramatically, i begin to cry. Because being smug is a defense mechanism. Bucking authority is another. i have had to puff myself up and build up walls and be hard for so long to *survive* and i don't want to be like that anymore. It's not me. i didn't have a childhood. i've always felt impossibly old. At 10, i raised my siblings for four years while momma went to college. because making 6k a year aint shit with 4 kids. At 14 when she finished, she wanted her role and her power back, but the children didn't recognize her as momma. And she hated it. It was a constant power struggle. To me she was irrational, led by the heart and prone to overreaction. Her favorite punishment aside from capital punishment was to take away everything i cared about at any moment *because she could*. So i became smug. *Because fuck you.*
Fast forward 4 years when i finally get to college and shit aint much better. i'm in an environment i wasn't ready for academically. The learning curve was exponential with a slope asymptote to infinity (undefined). That joint is a straight line lol. People are mad racist, dudes are mad sexist, the black people super rich and i'm slipping into depression. When i took a break from school last semester, i learned the traits i picked up - the way i operate in groups/the constant fight - don't work in other environments. It's dangerous to myself and it hurts others. And i don't want to be like that anymore. this is what i've had to do to survive all my life and it's ugly and it's not me.
i'm done with surviving. i want to thrive. i want to *live*. i want to submit desperately, i just don't know how. i'm tired of being defiant and smug and provoking because it's not me. i care so deeply for people, and i struggle because my face, my words, and my attitude are incongruent. When shit is bad, and i mean real bad, i smile and laugh. Not because something is funny or amusing - i smile because it isn't. i guess i started smiling cuz that's much simpler than bursting into tears. And these behaviors are habits i desperately want to break. my life has been fight after fight and resistance and war. i've made it so i would not submit to the negative forces in my life, but now i don't know how to accept the good. and that's why it hurts me so much when i smile at Miss or stare down Daddy when i would truly love not to be.
i was sure after that fiasco i'd never hear from them again. i failed so epically at something i know myself to be. regardless of the tears (because i definitely cried more last night), i am so thankful for that one opportunity to be in the presence of Miss and Daddy. The experience allowed me to gaze intently at those very ugly behaviors that i didnt truly recognize until last night. i left feeling like i failed a lot. But that failure was good because it was necessary. i'm now one step closer to knowing the person i am and transforming into the person i want to be.
Miss told me to look up what submission means and give ten examples of when i have ever done that in my life. For a moment i was quite terrified because i don't think i have ever submitted to someone or something without resistance first.
Submission - the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person; an act of surrendering to a hold by one's opponent; humility; meekness
Okay the '10 examples' activity is super hard because i see now i've been the bitch reluctant to listen and follow. people must loved me to put up with this shit. Jesus take the wheel.
i still don't think i'm off the hook. i live on the hook. i am the worm 😂. i'm super disappointed in myself, but my love for myself has not changed. i'm really proud of myself for taking the chance and putting myself out there and meeting people who i fantasize about binding me, dragging keys down my back until i bleed, whipping my *****, leaving marks/bruises and other normal shit like calling me hideous degrading names and looking at me in ways that make my entire being quiver. If we're being 300,000% truthful, though i didn't intend to fuck up, the intensity of those moments, the acute embarrassment i felt, the topic of conversation in that public environment is something i truly enjoyed and if given the chance to experience it again i definitely would. ☺️
Eventually i'll ask Miss about her role because she's Daddy's sub but i have to pass her first to get to Daddy. Does that mean one day she's going to hand me off and i don't get to have her as Miss anymore 😢? i'm going to enjoy things as they are and take them as they come. Because i like Daddy & Miss a lot 🤷🏾♂️
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I don't know if you've read Another yet or not but do you have any headcanons on what kind of parents the Fruits Basket characters would be to their kids?
AS DIFFERENT AS POSSIBLE FROM THEIR OWN PARENTS???????????
lol yeah i’ve read volumes 1 + 2 of Another and yeah. i just.
in some cases i think it’s pretty straight-forward – hatori and mayuko are pretty “normal” all things considered, so i imagine they’re pretty straight-forward parents. same with, say, momiji, who has always been remarkably well-adjusted and clear headed, and now seems to be reconciled with his entire family to boot (since he’s bffs with momo and took over his father’s business). i feel like ayame and mine…… ARE STRANGE, but don’t have any major issues about the concept of parenting. actually, i think ayame is certain his big brother prowess is proof he ought to extend his myriad and limited skills to parenting, post-haste!
so.
YUKI… i think he probably wants to be a parent. badly. not at the time of the series, per se, since he’s still a teenager, but i think once he gets a little older he really, really would want to have a child. he has always wanted family and a “home” more than anything else, and he has always wanted to be able to provide and protect and be a caretaker instead of being what he perceives himself to be, which is a needy emotional leech. it’s why his character development was all about leaving the sohma family and making weird friends on the student council, and why even when he was in denial about his feelings towards/about toru, he was always waxing poetic about how much he wanted a home and loving parents. yuki is a lot braver than i think he gives himself credit for, and he’s very clear-headed. he realizes his weaknesses and fears, and he takes active steps to push himself out of his comfort zone to confront them. so i think he’d really want to do this, take the next step, show he can not just a) live on his own and b) support some people but also c) have that loving home, create a family, not neglect or sell or harm his child, and basically just be the most supportive parent of all time.
that said, i am pretty sure mutsuki gets his insane troll sparkling habits from yuki, not machi, lmao. i think as a parent yuki is very supportive and a bit ‘serious’ – in the sense that he’d always be ready to give an earnest answer – but also, yeah, he likes making fun of people. he’s kind of a dick.
TORU… look. if anyone in the world is suited to be a parent. i love that she gets three kids, a big family, that there is no risk of anyone ever being left alone the way she was. i think she was thrilled when she became pregnant, and i think she probably told kyo before they even got married, by the way, i want a couple of kids. she loves crowds? she doesn’t like to be lonely or alone. she’d love a noisy, energetic home. she doesn’t want to be alone. she’d be a wonderful parent, of course. and also probably the kids and kyon like to gently tease her ditzier habits. (i’m surprised hajime is such a mom friend but not ditzy at all; i can only assume the other two are just as wonderfully spacey as toru is lmao.)
KYO… i think kyo has the most issues of the main trio with the idea of being a parent. he and yuki both came from abusive houses, but yuki, while always suffering from huge self esteem issues and abandonment, was always “special,” at least on paper. he was a tool because he mattered. kyo was called a ‘monster’ since he could walk. and then was blamed for his mother’s death and told it was because his mother hated him. and then he was adopted by WONDERFUL PARENT kazuma, and that’s great, and then a few months before the series started took another HUGE blow with kyoko that clearly fucked him up in new ways. (yuki gets a lot of resentful flashbacks to kyo having friends in elementary/middle school; contrast that to “I AM INCAPABLE OF INTERACTING WITH PEOPLE” kyo of volume one of furuba) by the end of the series kyo has taken huge steps towards getting past all that baggage… but it’s not gone. ‘Another’ has that amazing heartbreaking sidestory where hajime reflects that his father is never quite happy when people say hajime takes after him; kyo might be happy and free and adore toru and his kids, but part of him is always going to be a little uneasy – is it okay? is it okay that hajime resembles him? does kyoko really not forgive him still?
i think toru was thrilled to be pregnant, and kyo was happy in theory, but also probably freaked out a bit. he’s a monster, or he used to be, and is it really allowed? but then i’m sure toru was wonderful and just like yo i am so happy this is happening and nothing you do will change my mind and he’s 98% happy with everything.
as a parent, i think he has to be the stricter one just by default, because toru, but i don’t think he’s that bad. a bit snappy at times maybe, but no one takes it seriously (or listens). he was lucky to have the best damn father in the series, and probably tries to emulate kazuma, fails while scrabbling around, and then just wings it awkwardly. but he’s married to toru and she can pick up his slack, lmao.
HARU + RIN… i think they’re ultimately okay. i think rin panicked and freaked out a lot (and i think realistically their kids should be much younger, i think it would take her time to be able to accept having a child), but i think haru is such a calming presence that it balances out. once the baby (well, babies) were born, i’m sure rin became just RIDE OR DIE DON’T FUCK WITH MY KIDS, glaring at everyone at the playground, just terrifying.
SHIGURE + AKITO…… lol this is the one i really struggle with. i love shiki! i can, if i really try, see akito abruptly deciding she wants a child. just stubbornly. it’s gonna happen, she’s prepared, and then she is so not prepared and she panics and struggles through everything about pregnancy but she is trying so hard to be ready and want this and do this…? i think she’d be terrified. of everything about it. i can’t imagine her parenting – not being good or bad, just like, i struggle to picture her in proximity to a child, period. i think on a superficial level shigure would be just fine at taking care of a baby, but again, i really struggle with … picturing it. and picturing either of them wanting to have a kid in the first place. BUT HERE WE ARE? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i’m just glad kazuma/saki didn’t end up canon
#furuba#fruits basket#also i love asks i will happily spend all my time answering any question anyone gives me meta is all i exist for hi
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Hihi~ I know I said I'd drop this by a while back, but I wanted to wait till your ask box was calmer so you wouldn't feel overwhelming 💖 What are your headcanons for the different Gasters, if you don't mind? (Like before, please feel free to take as long as you'd like to answer; it's always worth it!) ~
I was wondering when I'd see this ask in my box. Bless you for waiting for my ask box to calm down. It really helped.
Gaster Headcanons
Undertale
Goop
-Royal scientist as we all know
-holy fucking memes. The memes never stop it seems. Probably Alphys who introduced him to them.
-plays piano, and composed a piece of music for his boys. He taught Classy Bean how to play piano.
-The dad jokes never stop.
-bad habit of forgetting to eat when he works on his experiments
-SCIENCE. The more complex the science, the more interested he is.
-what’s sleep? He forgets to sleep. A lot.
-his sleep schedule is so out of whack oh my god. His internal clock is fucking jacked up.
-adores kids, and kids tend to adore him.
-Dotes on the people he cares for, and made sure he made time for his kids.
-Classy Bean’s love for science comes from him.
-Tale’s love of puzzles is from him.
-Puzzles are wonderful he loves them
-Coffee is his savior okay
-When he isn’t working on something he loves, he’s pretty lazy.
-made a scrapbook of sans and started on one for papyrus before he fell into the core.
-was a great dad until he fell into the core.
-Wasn’t completely erased from existence after falling into the core. Nobody dared speak of him, (it hurt too much) though many forgot him, a few never could. These people include Classy Bean, Toriel, Asgore, and Alphys.
-the void is the worst place ever, but now he’s able to watch his boys grow up and check in on them. Its the best he can to be there for them. He wishes he could do more.
-Classy Bean’s machine isn’t to other multiverses. It’s him trying to make a door to the void so he can have his dad again.
-Always hums the tune he made for Classy Bean and Tale when they go to bed, almost as if he’s singing them a lullaby. Whenever he seems to do this Classy Bean seems to be able to go to sleep that night. He hopes it’s because of him.
-6 ft. tall by default, but he goop now so he can shift to being a bit taller or being much shorter.
-loves dogs. Annoying Dog is an actual dog that fell into the underground. Some animals fall in all the time, and the dog was one of them. Gaster took the dog in as a pet which is why Annoying Dog is around Tale and Classy Bean so much. Annoying Dog though has become the town’s dog.
-Alphys was the one to get him out of the void. She had found a weak spot in the void so he could step out. It was a really dangerous operation and she was trembling with the phone when she called Classy Bean in a panic.
-Classy Bean Shortcuts him and Tale to the lab immediately. He’s still pretty goopy from the void, but Classy Bean runs to him already sobbing.
-Goop is crying too, scooping his boy into his arms. Tale hardly remembers him but he gets pulled into a hug too. Goop lives with his boys now.
Underfell
Grump
-Super fucking cautious holy shit.
-Red Boy whenever he’d go out to play had this lecture he’d have to go through, a list of everything he’d taught him.
-Ha, he was never alone though. He watched over him, stalking him through town because he was worried.
-He’s the one who installed several thousand locks on the house. The windows have puzzle locks. Ain’t no one crawling through windows.
-He was super strict with Red Boy and Soft Edge, but behind closed doors super affectionate and loving.
-He taught them to stick together. No matter what. They’re family and they are going to be the only ones to trust down in the underground. He was enforcing tight bonds as much as he fucking could.
-Taught Red Boy piano and how to sew.
-Made all of Red Boy’s and Soft Edge’s clothes by hand.
-Taught Red Boy some science along with Soft Edge. Soft Edge vaguely remembers it.
-When he went out with his boys he would pick them up and carry them. No excuses. He couldn’t let them trail behind. Sure killing children was frowned upon but it didn’t really stop monsters from doing it. The harsh punishment didn’t always get carried out when they couldn’t find the culprit unfortunately.
-Was friends with Jerkby, who was a bit older than Red Boy. Probably about three years. Jerkby didn’t have parents, they were dusted after all, and he’d allow Jerkby to stay in the shed (Jerkby refused to step inside a stranger’s house). When they grew closer where Jerkby trusted him more he let him stay in the house.
-When he disappeared into the core they were all still relatively young. Jerkby got rougher, and meaner. Red Boy is the only reason he kept any bit of kindness that he had beforehand.
-He was violent in the void. He hadn’t ever killed anyone really just beated them to near death before leaving them alone. So he’d never been outright violent. The void made him beyond angry though.
-When the barrier breaks, the void wavers enough from the pulse to let him out, and he immediately tracks down his boys.
-Red Boy almost threw a bone attack at him until he realized it was possibly his dad.
-Soft Edge doesn’t buy it, but the uncanny resemblance to his hazy memory is too much for him to deny. He is the one who demands to hear the his story.
-Red Boy quizzes him on things only he would know and he passes with flying colors. As soon as he does Red Boy is LAUNCHING HIMSELF AT HIS FATHER.
-Red Boy cries for the first time in a long time, and honestly he can’t blame him. He’s holding back tears himself.
-He’s so proud of his boys and who they’ve become. He’s proud of Red Boy for not trusting him immediately. It meant he did his job to keep him safe in the underground. He’s proud of Soft Edge for achieving his goals. So what they’re rough around the edges? They’re alive.
-They live together on the surface.
-He’s 8 ft tall. He likes to tease Red Boy for ending up short.
-The surface??? Is so different??? He’s baffled.
-There’s cute shit and edgy shit. How the fuck is he supposed to choose between these things. He’s serious.
-Very indecisive when choosing shit. Like he likes both the cute things and edgy things. Though he leans toward edgy more, it’s hard for him to deny anything cute.
-He’s all about adapting to new living situations, so he’s proactively trying to improve.
-Literally makes notes on a notepad so he doesn’t forget what’s acceptable and what isn’t.
-Watches some TV to figure out some basic interactions. Red Boy and Soft Edge also help him learn.
-he’s still a little rougher around the edges than his boys though. It’s surprisingly difficult for him to wrap his head around a peaceful environment.
-He argued with his boys on how many locks they needed for the door. They went with 3. The windows have 1 basic lock much to his irritation.
-oh my god he hates country and the pop genres. He thinks their bullshit and the grate on his nerves.
-his aura is terrifying and so he’s very difficult to approach.
-He fucking loves cats. He wants 20 of them. Soft Edge constantly tells him no. “WHY THE FUCK NOT?”
-Okay he knows he’s supposed to love the sky and the surface but could the sun shut the fuck up??? Just??? Turn down the brightness.
-He discovers quickly that he isn’t a morning person. Mornings are awful and whenever someone greets him with good morning he stares them dead in the eye looking utterly exhausted as he says, “There are no good mornings.”
-Please get him coffee. He is dying. No he’s not being dramatic get him fucking coffee. (he’s being a dramatic lil shit)
Underswap
Oddball
-He’s not the riverperson. He’s still the royal scientist. But it seems as though he has more of Riverperson’s personality.
-Ya know Goop? And his dad jokes? Increase ten fold.
-Speaks in riddles it sounds like, but he’s just talking I swear.
-Look at his boys!!! His boys are good. He’s kind of,,, a weird dad. A parent figure who doesn’t know shit about raising a child let alone two.
-When Honey Bear showed interest and an advanced understanding in science and other things he instantly jumps on this chance to teach him.
-He’s a semi decent teacher. Some of the material went over Honey Bear’s head which frustrated him. He’d try to explain only making it worse. Honey Bear had random clicks of when it suddenly occurred to him what he was talking about and he’d become very angry at his past self because it was so easy.
-A chaotic neutral kind of person.
-what a fucking brat holy hell. Shit eating grins are his signature smile.
-He loves to go around and calling random things cursed for no apparent reason.
-enjoys the looks of horror and confusion from people when he does something odd again.
-When he disappeared everyone was confused. No one knew what happened to him except the King and Queen along with Honey Bear and Sassberry.
-He’d only been able to teach Sassberry some music theory, and Honey Bear sewing. He was very disappointed.
-spent his time in the void listing what he was gonna teach his sons. It kept him from going insane.
-During a reset, he was spit out of the void like a spitting bullet when they arrived to the surface. He keeps a close eye on Chara to make sure they don’t reset. Who knows what’ll happen if they did, he’s finally out and he refuses to go back to the void. Chara is semi terrified of him and making him made so they refuse to reset. Even went to the point of breaking the reset button. This makes things a million times better between the two.
-The day he disappeared he had asked Honey Bear a riddle. “How is a raven like a writing desk?”
-Honey Bear tackled him to the ground he was so happy to see him, and the first thing he says to him, “I’ve been thinking about it for what feels like 50 years of how a raven is like a writing desk and I need to know. How?” He shrugs and gives him a shit eating grin. “How would I know I’ve been in the void for 50 years.” Honey Bear is screaming.
-He lives with his sons after that still though.
-He is a mess to live with. He leaves shit everywhere and he has to ask constantly where he put something down.
-Sweet tooth. He visits Sweetby’s cafe often and has become good friends with him.
-doesn’t make puns but he thoroughly enjoys hearing Honey Bear make them.
-He’s 5’4. Taller than one son, shorter than the other. He’s fine with this.
-he’s very poor at reading a room. He says such weird shit that people generally have a hard time understanding him, but when he gets weird awkward stares is when he figures out he needs to probably shut up and pay attention to what the fuck is going on.
-He wants to teach people things.
-loves to learn and he grabs too many fucking books at once to learn something.
-Seems to oddly? Be a genius at languages and he quickly learns French, German, and Russian.
-makes random noises because he feels like it while he does things. Sometimes it’s just random humming other times it’s squawking.
-kind of has hipster tastes but just cause he likes really weird shit.
-loves spicy food that feels like you’re standing on the surface of the sun.
Swapfell
Worrywort
-Paranoia and anxiety bean
-also the royal scientist.
-He double checks his work about a hundred times before doing anything.
-He’s the epitome of internal screaming, but is calm on the outside.
-A fondness for riddles. He doesn’t indulge them often because it pisses off a lot of monsters.
-taught his boys how to hide and keep out of trouble. He also taught them ambush attacks, and other guerilla tactics. It was in case they ever got in a fight. Hit and run tactics would keep them alive.
-Is an amazing at strategy for combat surprisingly. He learned about it because of how the underground became so vicious.
-he has a billion locks on the doors. Windows have iron bars he welded on them. They’re wide enough for hands to reach through and open the window but that’s it.
-Was a very stressed bean with his work as the royal scientist. He brought his boys to the lab constantly just so he could relax enough to work.
-Undyne worked with him closely, and ended up becoming friends with Rus. Undyne ended up being a close family friend.
-Voice of reason. Please don’t do the thing. That thing is bad. How does he know? It’s literally written on the thing.
-When they started working on the core, he started writing notes for the boys. They were full of advice, and reminding them he loved them very much. He made them in case something bad happened because of how dangerous the project was.
-HE TOLD UNDYNE THE CORE NEEDED TO HAVE RAILS.
-He fell in during a check on the process of putting up rails.
-Undyne kept an eye on Rus and Scaryberry for him, but could only do so much since she was the new royal scientist. She kept them afloat for as long as they needed. He appreciated this deeply. He noticed she took care of them financially for as long as she could.
-he blames himself for Scaryberry’s anxiety and Rus’s extreme levels of stress. That was… his bad. He must have looked rather frantic to the kids which couldn’t have been very good for them.
-He spent a lot of time crying in the void. At least they had his letters to look to for guidance even if it didn’t cover all of their problems.
-He experimented with the void and managed to cause a reset that spit him out of the void. He doesn’t understand what happened but he accepts this bullshit.
-He finds the fallen child immediately and explains what he did, and apologizes. He begs for them to do another pacifist route, one last time. Chara wanted to live on the surface with everyone and agreed. With his help after breaking the barrier, he helped them break the reset button. It scared Chara but, he reassured them it was the right thing to do.
-7 ft tall. He’s on the taller side for monsters.
-His reunion with his boys is full of tears for everyone. Scaryberry is crying. He always wanted to know his dad and he has the chance to do that now.
-He lives with his sons because he missed too many years with them.
-He takes turns cooking with Rus, but Rus is much better than him at cooking.
-He’s okay at cleaning. He doesn’t clean up often though and will tag team a room with Scaryberry.
-He’s got insomnia, and so he struggles with sleep. He passes out on the couch often and when he wakes up he gets a bit startled before he remembers he’s on the surface and not the void.
-When the boys leave the house he’s always making sure they have everything they need. It’s important to him that they have a way to contact him.
-He listens to music a lot to relax. It helps to a degree.
-Reads to Scaryberry a lot because he didn’t get to do that a lot and Scaryberry still wants to have that sort of childhood experience.
Horrortale
Eerie
-Scratched and clawed his way out of the Void.
-His body ended up being very torn up because of this, and he lost a limb. Specifically his arm.
-Do not ask about the Void. He’d rather not talk about it and suffers PTSD from everything he witnessed. He barely escaped with his sanity.
-His humor is morbid, and self deprecating.
-low self esteem from the void. Lets just say he wasn’t exactly… alone.
-He has a rather unsettling vibe, but so do most monsters from this AU. It’s not that he’s bad, its just that… you can feel he’s seen some shit.
-Loves his boys. He couldn’t confront them right away when he crawled out of the void because he was barely keeping himself together. Not only that he was not prepared for a brawl.
-not a fighter. I’m serious. You will kick his ass. You can be terrible and still win.
-pacifist
-Loves his boys! He’s so proud of them, and they’re so brave for everything they did.
-Axe was upset about him not coming to them as soon as possible until he heard about the condition he came from the void to the underground. Now he’s just happy he has dad back at all. He could’ve been eaten so easily… It scares him.
-Scared of the dark. Requires a nightlight or some form of dim light.
-He heard one superstition and then proceeded to look up others. He now treads very lightly.
-He starts to study mythology. He loves the stories and learning what Humans believed in the time they were underground. It seems they weren’t the only ones who suffered great ordeals.
-Not a goop dad. The Void was the reason for the Goop like appearance, and he was painfully and barely holding himself together.
-believes in the paranormal. He’s seen shit that he will never elude to that makes him believe. He’s not a fool. Is everything paranormal? No, why the fuck would it be?
-After some time of getting to know his boys more, they let him move in. He’s thrilled with this.
-Rate of success for cooking is debatable. Sometimes he just shrugs and says, “It’s a fire day today I guess.”
-he’s 5’6. The Void made him shrink a bit, and was originally 6’ tall.
-excitable. He’s not loud like Sugarskull, but he’s very eager to do things and talk with people.
-He understands monsters had done what they had to do to survive. He ends up learning about how some humans have been known to cannibalize without lack of food, so he likes to shoot that back at those who judge him. He also lists any other instances of cannibalism humans have shown if people continue their rants.
-He knows how to argue/debate. It’s an important skill to him. If he makes a mistake he’s reasonable and backs down.
-Actually pretty good with people. He’s generally well liked.
-Surprisingly functional, but there are days… Those days that pull him down in the void again and he can’t escape. He’s not grounded and they sneak up on him randomly.
-Nightmare every night, but he doesn’t remember. He wakes up smiling, but with a slight feeling of terror that he tends to brush off. He’s fine nothing happened as far as he’s aware.
-Constantly reminds himself he is safe. He’s with his boys. Everythings okay. They’re on the surface.
-Randomly stomps his feet on the ground to prove to himself that it is indeed real, and that he is indeed solid. He needs the reminder.
-not a fan of Undyne. He knows what she’s done, and her decisions as a queen were foolish in his opinion.
#general headcanon#undertale#underfell#underswap#swapfell#fellswap#horrortale#undertale gaster#underfell gaster#underswap gaster#swapfell gaster#fellswap gaster#horrortale gaster#ut gaster#uf gaster#us gaster#sf gaster#fs gaster#ht gaster#ask#headcanon
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Hi there! I was wondering if you knew of anything for Vamp!Derek or Vamp!Stiles? If there's any Vamp!Peter (for Steter or Vamp!Jackson for Stackson) then that's fine too. || I'm on mobile for Tumblr and AO3 almost 100% and I still don't know how to search for specific tags on AO3. (Sorry!) || If you know any other fic-searching blogs that I could follow, could you let me know? (Sorry, this is really long ^-^;;)
Here’s some vampire aus, @angels-in-hell! - Anastasia
Cruel World by cecld
(8/? I 8,909 I Mature I Sterek)
The Hale Pack found a vampire nest right under their nose.
While trying to sneek into their lair Stiles is caught.
They think that he will be killed but the vampire do something much worse.
Why kill him when they can turn him into the very thing that werewolves hate? One of them?
Stiles struggles with his new supernatural side and now his brothers and sisters are calling him to join them and give in to his instincts.
But Derek calls the opposite way, what should he do?
But then… tradgedy strikes which will turn the tables on every one.
Feels Better Biting Down by callunavulgari
(1/1 I 9,739 I Explicit I Stiles/Lydia/Derek)
“We should have him over for dinner,” Lydia says. She’s inspecting a pair of stilettos, weighing them carefully in one hand. They would look lovely on her and the price tag is nowhere near enough to dissuade her. Beside her, Stiles snorts, shuffling sideways so that a mother and her squalling child can pass by. “That would be sending entirely the wrong message, Lyds.”
She rolls her eyes and passes him the shoe box. “Nonsense. It’s what you do when you wish to court someone.”
“Pretty sure all the rules are different when he knows what we are and may think we’re planning on having him for dinner.”
Bloodlust and Lovelust by syringa101
(2/? I 12,122 I Explicit I Sterek)
Stiles is turned into a vampire.He hates himself and everything he’s become as he struggles to overcome his lust for blood. What he didn’t anticipate is having to deal with his feelings towards Derek.But doing all of that is pretty hard when he’s living in Derek’s loft, under house arrest.
Invited Inside by blacktofade
(1/1 I 14,134 I Explicit I Sterek)
Of all the things to finally bite him, a vampire is truly at the bottom of Stiles’ list.
Predator/Prey by someone_who_isnt_me
(1/1 I 19,332 I Explicit I Sterek)
Angels fucking wept and Stiles got nervous.
The only reason a guy who looked like this and drove a car like this would be picking up a scrawny underage hooker was because he wanted to do to Stiles the sorts of things you couldn’t ask a girlfriend or boyfriend for, or even a stranger in a bar. Nasty-bad wrong things. Things that only money handed over could make better, silence bought and paid for.
Or maybe a dead hooker in a ditch who couldn’t talk, no need to pay for the silence.
But Stiles had his own methods for making sure that didn’t happen.
Stiles is a vampire. Derek’s still the Alpha. And there’s knotting.
they call kids like us vicious and carved out of stone by standinginanicedress
(1/1 I 20,506 I Mature I Sterek)
“Since you’re so sure, what’s the proof that you have that he’s not a vampire?”
Feeling like he’s the only sane person left on planet earth, Derek rolls his eyes heavenward. “First of all, there’s not a mound of dust sitting where he used to be -” he gestures upwards towards the sun like behold, the light, and Scott’s jaw tics, “and second of all, he’s never done anything even remotely suspicious.”
Which is true. The most malicious thing Stiles does is watch television late at night and talk to himself – two things that Scott and Derek can hear crystal clear through the walls of their apartment with their werewolf ears. That being said, neither of them have ever heard Stiles muttering something like who shall I prey upon tonight or I must get my coffin ready for my slumber. The most suspect thing Derek’s over heard over there is the crinkling sound of way too many snack foods.
Bloodlust by ch_loe
(6/? I 24,629 I General I No Pairing)
Maybe it was the crazy world he had gotten himself involved in or maybe it was just Stiles but it was inevitable that he would eventually join his best friend officially in becoming a part of the supernatural. Only now Stiles was wishing he had accepted the bite from Peter because being a vampire was a hell of a lot worse than a werewolf.
Silver Only Shines in the Moonlight (And I Rise With My Red Hair) by yourguardianangel
(10/10 I 26,545 I Mature I Sterek)
Stiles died alone.
He didn’t honestly know what he had been expecting; he had made it a habit to hang out with (and occasionally fight) bloodthirsty supernatural creatures of the night, and that had become a more frequent occurrence after all of that Darach business a while back. As the warmth of his blood seeped steadily through his fingers and onto the cold, filthy floor, he realized that no one was coming, that no one would be there in time.Stiles couldn’t help the single whimper of utter helplessness.—Stiles becomes a member of the rapidly growing Beacon Hills supernatural population, to his own disgust, and along the way he finds out a thing or two about himself and the people he cares about most.
I Come Alive by Ponchodoodle
(18/? I 28,843 I Teen I No Pairing)
Something is going around killing teenagers again. After a plan to catch the thing goes wrong, Stiles is the newest monsters next target. Will Stiles walk away unscathed?
We Run the Night by devouringdarkness
(28/28 I 89,150 I Explicit I Sterek)
In a world where the likelihood of vampires and werewolves getting along is zero to none; Stiles has to learn how to navigate his coven through Beacon Hills and their werewolf pack. With his loyalty and future in the coven on the line will he be able to do all that his Sire wants while trying to ignore his feelings for one of the wolves?
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