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#i deleted the original :(
d1cks1e-st1x · 1 year
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I DONT WABT TO DRAW ANY MORE FEET
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computerexploder · 1 year
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im just someones weird sister
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ahahnopenope · 19 days
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here's the picture i couldn't get out of my head
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sophalopod · 6 months
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hello
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bludragongal · 2 years
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never mind
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lesbianredpanda · 7 months
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Since I saw that "straight women vs lesbians hanging out" post again I made this lmao
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valentjin · 5 months
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put the devil in his place
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burstfoot · 6 months
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nibeul · 1 year
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jamie lee curtis winning best supporting actress over stephanie hsu for a movie that centered an asian american family and explored familiar ties through that specific lens... ohhh oscars committee when I get my hands on you
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prinnay · 1 year
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telekinesis
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How You Turn My World; Chapter 1
Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.
Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola
Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot
Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none
Word Count; 4.6 K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~
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Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.
Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child. 
“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.
Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.
Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.
What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.
Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.  
The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.
“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.
You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.
“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.
Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.
“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.
Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.
“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”
He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine. 
The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.
“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.
After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open. 
Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.
Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.
You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.
By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.
You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word. 
“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”
Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.
The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.
The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.
“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”
Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.
Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.
The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”
Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.
With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.
“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.
...
By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.
Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.
You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.
But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.
… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.
Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.
| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?
And almost immediately, Ace replied.
| Ginger, derogatory | depends  | ya got fiid?
Deuce responded shortly after.
| Mama’s Boi | Yeah, I’m down | What time? | . . . | And what’s fiid?
|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?
| Ginger, derogatory | IT WAS A TYOP | *TYPO | I MEANT FOOD | F O O D
| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me
| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?
| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me
| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!
That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.
Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.
“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”
Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”
He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend? 
“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.
Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.
He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.” 
You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”
Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.
“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But–”
Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.
Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.
You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.
Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.
You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”
Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies. 
“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”
You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”
Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”
Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”
You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up. 
Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!
You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.
“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison. 
You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.
You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.
But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.
The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.
Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…
Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.
“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.
You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.
You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place. 
All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.
Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.
When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?
He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.
And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!
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Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii
~~~~~~~
Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.
If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.
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wizard-email · 9 months
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There is a café in the forest. Its lights are bright, it should not be there.
Something chimes. You don’t remember opening the door that swings closed behind you. You’re out of breath. Have you been running? Your brow furrows. There is mud on your boots. Clumps of dirt that dry and crack then fall away as you stand there, staring.
“May I have your name?” 
You look up. Your neck strains as if it hasn’t moved in days. Blink, flex your hands. Needles race up your arms like stabbing insects. The barista stands before you with limbs that are too long and a smile that reaches their eyes in more ways than one. 
“May I have your name?” They say again, like a name is a thing to be taken. Maybe it is. You are struck with the notion that you do not want them to have yours. With great effort you pause the words forming on your lips. When did you open your mouth? It doesn’t matter. You give them a name.
The barista’s smile widens, if that is possible. Their skin is ashen gray and the apron they wear shifts in a way that blinds you. “That isn’t your name.”
You shake your head. No, it isn’t. 
You are seated at a table. (Is wood supposed to bleed?) The menu is soggy in your hands. Syllables jerk twisted and raw from your mouth as you pick an order at random and read. A mockery of language, you don’t recognise your own voice. 
The barista nods slowly. “Will that be all?”
“Yes,” You find yourself saying. “That will be all.”
They turn away and you are left with yourself. Roll a corner of the menu between your finger and thumb, yellow liquid oozing from its fibers. Your hand is shaking.
Something chimes, slams. A man stands in the doorway- He has mud on his boots, though he does not stop to watch them dry. He sees you and you remember then why you went running in the woods at night. Ordinary fear; of abuse and fists and gaslit-rage. You cringe in your seat. 
He is an animal made of popping veins and flying spittle. He stalks towards you and then-
“May I have your name?” 
Was the barista always there? You don’t remember them arriving, you don’t remember them being there a moment ago. They stand with a smile that is still too wide, hands outstretched in a beckoning motion. The man doesn’t notice, or perhaps he is too caught up in his own rage to care. He shoves the barista, but he may as well be shoving at a pillar, or a mountain. They make the beckoning motion again and you’re not sure which of them to warn of danger.
“May I have your name?” 
The man scowls, giving it offhandedly as he moves to step past. Then he stops. You stare, transfixed as the colour drains from his face. His legs seem rooted to the floor. You steel yourself to meet his gaze but it's… Hollow. The eyes you meet are that of a shell- a vacant, breathing corpse. 
You look away and the barista descends upon what remains. 
He doesn’t scream, doesn’t make a sound at all. The wet tearing of flesh is enough to keep your eyes on the floor. The tiles are stained a dirty brown. (Smack.) They have chipped in places, little cracks running through and revealing the loose earth beneath. (Thud.) A bug crawls from the dirt. Or at least, you think it’s a bug. (Tear.) A crimson puddle seeps into view; you decide to look elsewhere.
Happy, laughing things stare at you from a poster. The figures on it are almost human, smiling renditions of men and women if they had been clumsily sculpted by a child. The only accurate features are the teeth. 
The clock on the wall has eleven numbers. The hands rotate at random, spinning and stopping in opposite directions. You watch as it falters and picks up speed, never once coming to a point where it could properly mark the passage of time.
A clink against the table pulls you from your transfixion. There stands the barista, smiling. They're different now- the slant of their chin, the colour of their eyes. Those features are new, stolen from a man who is now something different.
They have placed a cup in front of you; the muddy red liquid swirling inside almost looks like tea. You pick it up (because what else are you supposed to do?) and run a thumb along the handle’s rough surface. It’s white, with a hundred organic ridges. The liquid inside is warm and distinctly metallic. You try not to think about it.
“Would you like a sample?” They slide a tray towards you. You're not sure what the things on it are, but you know that you want them. Desires, goals. When you ask if they are free the barista says nothing. When you ask for the price a curious expression crosses their face before they give it to you.
You decide that no, you would not like a sample today.
The barista steps towards you clumsily, as if putting one foot in front of the other is something they haven’t done before. They take your hand. Their fingers are hard, smooth as ice and just as cold. They run an almost-thumb down your palm, bones growing and shifting, snapping into place as their limbs change to imitate your own. You yank your arm away. The cold of their fingers has forced you to focus, pulled you back to some semblance of reality. You stand, knocking over your chair in the process. It hits the ground with a dull thud and begins to gently sink into the earth.
The barista looks at you with eyes that were his and are now yours too. You hug your chest, bile rising in your throat. You have to get away. They don’t stop you, and perhaps that is the most disturbing thing of all. Calling out a simple “come again!” before you can flee, breathless, into the night.
In the dark and cold you think for a moment that you have stumbled into another hell, so sudden is the change. But no, there are outlines of trees; leaves beneath your shoes. This is the forest once more.
You turn, expecting a building but greeted by darkness. Blink, let your eyes adjust to the night. There is a corpse at your feet. It looks like it's been there a while. Mushrooms grow from its eyes, the slant of its chin. You stumble away.
 The rumble of traffic offers a clear direction. Lights flash in the distance and you realise for the first time that your hands are caked in dry crimson. Look away, focus on the treeline and the false safety it promises. The taste of copper sits heavy on your tongue.
‘Come again!’ The call was not a request, but a promise. Not tomorrow, if you’re lucky not for years to come. But you will return one day,
To the midnight café.
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danikatze · 6 days
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10 years ago I drew this crappy little AtLA comic (affectionate) that became one of my first 1k+ posts lol. Felt like doing a bit of a redraw :)
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baldursgays3 · 2 months
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Dame Aylin x Isobel Thorm (Moon Lesbians) from BG3 ✰ reminder that T*RFs can fuck off, only interact if you love trans & nb folks ♡
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ansonmountdaily · 8 months
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Captain Christopher Pike's outfits in STAR TREK: STRANGE NEW WORLDS → Season 1 - 2 (requested by anonymous)
(Young Lieutenant Pike in the field jacket and red operations uniform is from a 1x06 "Lift Us Where Suffering Cannot Reach" deleted scene on the Season 1 dvd. It's a little flashback scene with Pike in a shuttle. It ends with him beaming back to USS Aryabhatta, the ship he served on at the time with Number One/Una.)
Star Trek: Discovery outfits here.
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il-predestinato · 8 months
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The race steward has a word with Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc at their first race together since the infamous "inchident" at Val d'Argenton one month earlier.
Max Verstappen & Charles Leclerc | WSK Euro Series KF2 | Wackersdorf 2012 🎥: [x] (June 8-10, 2012)
(Max: *nods his understanding, shakes the steward's hand* 🫤 ... meanwhile, Charles: *I refuse to even look at him* 😠)
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