#tbh i hate using tags

[anonity]

wrote something quick and sweet for you guys because i have a whopping 40 pages of angst sitting in my drafts rn.. do we want the pazzi fic first or the paige x reader fic? 

anyways enjoy

summary: azzi drags paige out of bed at 6 in the morning, just to go to the gym. (also, they’re dating and paige is in love) WC: 1000ish

beep, beep, bee–

paige buries her head into her pillow as silence befalls the room – for three seconds. then, it gets ripped out from underneath her. 

“morning, paige!” azzi’s voice rings, annoyingly chipper for – paige cracks an eye open, finally looking at her alarm – 6 in the morning.

hesitantly, hoping if she moved slowly enough azzi would not notice she was awake, she looked towards where the voice had come from. instead, she comes face to face with neon pink. azzi steps back, and paige finally gets to take in everything in front of her – gray sweats, a bright hoodie, and a black gym bag slung over her shoulder.

the sight makes paige want to die. 

“az,” she groans, yanking their blanket up over her head, “it’s six in the morning.”

azzi promptly pulls the entire comforter away. “six-thirty,” she corrects helpfully, balling up the blanket and leaving it on the opposite end of the bed. paige groans again, reaching blindly for it. it’s decidedly too far, so she settles instead on falling limply against the mattress.

azzi’s nose scrunches in response. “you promised you’d come to the gym with me.”

paige mumbles something that sounds like another complaint, but her voice is muffled in the mattress. azzi shoves her shoulder, forcing her face up. “c’mon, don’t make me pull you out.”

paige just barely cracks a smile. “you never have to pull out, ma.”

“paige!” azzi yelps in response, slapping her chest half-heartedly. “that doesn’t even make sense! get up!”

feeling particularly unamused again, paige's voice comes out groggy. “you know not to make plans with me before nine in the morning.”

azzi’s eyes narrow. “then you shouldn’t have said you’d go with me.”

paige doesn’t answer, throwing an arm over her eyes instead. azzi lets out an overly-emphasized sigh, leaning down so her face is level with paige’s.”you’re lucky i think you’re cute.”

paige peeks out from under her arm. she’s met with that soft, sickeningly fond look azzi reserves only for her, and can’t help the smile it warrants. “you think i’m cute?”

“i think you’re lazy,” azzi shoots back, standing straight again. “but, because i know you soo well, i brought you coffee.”

paige perks up immediately, reaching for the cup expectantly. “you’re the best, az.”

azzi immediately pulls back, holding it just out of reach. “nuh-uh,” she chides, a glint in her eye that can only mean trouble for paige. “not until you’re ready to go.”

paige scowls. “you’re joking.”

“it’s strategic.”

the second the word leaves azzi’s mouth, it’s a mistake – she knows it because paige immediately shoots up from the bed, wrapping her arms around her. 

“paige!” she tries to sound annoyed, but the giggle that follows is indisputable. “get off of me!”

paige immediately fumbles for the coffee cup, a disposable one from downstairs, and briefly wonders when azzi had time to even go get it. “taunting opponents is not a strategy, it’s a flagrant foul,” she corrects, still fighting for the drink. azzi pokes her side in that spot that always has paige jerking away and frees herself, holding the still-intact coffee up triumphantly. 

“all is fair in love and basketball,” she grins. 

paige scowls. “don’t use my favorite movie against me.”

“it’s my favorite movie.”

“i had it first.”

“you did not!”

“did too, i’m older than you.”

baffled, azzi jerks back. “what does that have to do with anything?”

paige straightens, looking particularly smug. “it means i had time to watch it before you did.”

“paige!” azzi groans, shoving her towards the dresser. “get dressed!”

paige grumbles but acquiesces, yanking on a pair of sweatpants and a thin t-shirt. there’s cold biting through the windows of their apartment, and azzi briefly comments on paiges lack of a jacket, but paige shrugs her off lazily. “ion’ need no jacket, i’m a big dawg.”

azzi doesn’t try to correct her again, (even though the phrase big dawg has her rolling her eyes) and instead leans against the doorframe of their room. paige all but throws herself back onto the bed, tying her shoes with drama only rivaled by toddlers.

azzi tracks each tug of laces with barely concealed amusement, taking a purposefully loud sip of paige’s coffee.

giving one last tug, paige stands from the bed and saunters over to where azzi is leaned. raising her eyebrows and staring expectantly at the coffee again, azzi finally hands it over. “now, all that drama was for nothing,” she says pointedly. paige hums as if she disagrees, but doesn’t add to her argument as she follows azzi out the door.

they don’t speak again until their feet land on the sidewalk outside. the air in storrs is sharp, frost clinging to the ground like broken cobwebs, and paige can’t help the shiver that wracks her body.

really and truly, she should have grabbed a hoodie like azzi had suggested. she can already hear the i told you so forming in azzi’s mouth, though, so paige stays quiet. instead, she scrunches her nose against the breeze and turns finally to look over azzi’s features.

the sun is just barely rising – the barren trees lining the sidewalk are casting long, soft shadows across her face. azzi walks a step ahead, hands tucked into her hoodie pockets and posture straight. the light flickers over her features – the way her lashes fan against her eyebrows, the pink dusting the easy slope of her nose, the way her lips are tugged into that ever-present smile.

paige can’t help the way her gaze lingers. azzi’s exhale rises in a delicate plume, curling lazily into the quiet air. 

paige thinks she’s pretty – and, actually, that she’s quite lucky to have someone like azzi dragging her out at 6 in the morning.

ever the instigator, though, paige chooses not to voice the softness of her thoughts. instead, she tears her gaze away and rolls her eyes. “you’re lucky i love you.”

azzi glances over, dimples falling over her face as she grins again. her voice is soft, tinged with a quiet warmth meant only for paige to hear. “i know.”

[storytellering]

I dunno guys, I think he did nothing wrong ever

[digitalmyyth]

Uncle Perry’s cool attic bedroom

[xxplastic-cubexx]

yeah the skins neat i guess idk

[ein-playgames]

Headcanon:

Balor is either a fallen noble or a runaway noble (like James from pokemon: rich kid runaway due to family issues).

Edit: I personally believe he got his scar from an assasination attempt by enemies ordered by someone related (power stuggles) or not (enemy/rival family)

[clowningcrows]

i want to remember it. probably better we don’t. i’ve never been loved before. not really. well, now you have. how does it feel? i don’t know… i’ve never had this. i know. my whole life. i know. i want to. i wanna have it. i’m ready. i’m ready. i’m ready. i’m ready. we can’t. i’m ready. we can’t. we cant!

[ra-vio]

this blog is 11 years old now 🎉

I drew the siblings ever to celebrate as usual

[garishhhues]

I love Tumblr because I know I can say nice things about tlou s2 and Bella Ramsey on here and I won’t get cyber bullied

[macabre-crab]

you hate shuro because he was mean to laois. i hate shuro because he gets in the way of my yuri ship. we are not the same.

[aryxchse]

beach talks / percy jackson x mortal! fem! reader.

a / n : and here i thought i wouldn't write anything mortal x demigod trope,,,, but yeah my brain is screaming ideas to me from all of the bf asmr's and percy jackson's hot self i keep up with. and please let demigod's have magical phones!!

warnings : crying, cuteness overload, suprisingly i didn't cursed?? childhood friends to strangers (?) to lovers, first love, enchanted to meet you fr

oh how you missed perseus jackson.

yancy academy was something traumatising for the both of you, but percy made it easier to survive. he was fun, sarcastic, cute, and had the most gorgeous sea green eyes.

you two loved sneaking out from the school, just to visit beach. you both loved the sea, but you knew he loved it more than you. whenever he was near the ocean, he would always be more calmer.

his eyes would change the color according to the sea, or you we're just so in love with his eyes that you romanticised it in every way.

so when he called you last night, to ask you if you would meet up at the beach you always visited back then, you couldn't say no. instead, you laughed and said 'you always loved to be near the ocean anyways.'

you were so mad at him, so mad. you said you wouldn't leave him when he got expelled, but instead, he left you. he dissapeared without saying anything. and years later, the last week of the summer before collage starts, he reached to you.

and you're so, so mad at yourself for agreeing to meet up with him.

but then again, the way you missed and loved him was more powerful than your anger.

the beach was the same as the last day you arrived here. two years after percy got expelled and didn't even answered any of your calls that time, dissapearing. you were 14, now returning as 18.

you saw a familiar boy sitting on the sand, hugging his knees and watching the ocean with a calm look on his face. he had the same messy raven hair and sharp features with the boy you were in love with when you were 12.

"percy?" you called softly, approaching the boy. he immediatly turned to you, bright sea green eyes piercing your soul.

oh, those sea green eyes.

"oh gods, y/n," he said, stooding up. you tried to pay no mind to him saying 'gods' instead of 'god.' since he hugged you like he was going to break your ribs. "i missed you so much."

the tears were already showing themselfs in your eyes. man, you really loved this boy. as you hugged him back, the change in his appearence made you sad. because you weren't there to see it, to tease him for how quick he got taller or how ripped he was now.

he was more tan, he had many, many scars on his body. he smelled like salt water and wow, he was so much taller than you now. not to mention of how bigger his body get. was he in the military or something when he was gone?

"thank you for coming," he said, pulling away to look at you. his smile was bright like you remembered, so strong that always making people mirror his expression. "i really appreciate it."

"well, i deserve an apology right?" you said, sitting next to his previous place on the sand. he sat next to you, expression.. guilty.

"you deserve much more than that," he said quietly, meeting your eyes. you avoided them, 'cause if you didn't, you would scream: it's okay! i forgive you handsome!

"what are you waiting for then?" you asked, watching the ocean. "make up for it jackson."

and with that, he began to tell you everything. he knew he didn't have to hide anything from you, and how you we're a little mythology obsessed. it did suprised you, but you didn't showed it.

"and i knew i had to reach you after the last war because," he said, meeting your eyes again. this time, you looked back at him. "there's not gonna be any prophecy soon."

a sigh escaped your lips, as a way of process everything. "first of all, i'm mad." you said, and percy groaned in sadness. "because i would've helped you through everything, i would try my best."

"i know," percy whispered. "but i didn't want to put you in danger, you're important to me."

good one, you thought. he sure learned how to make a girl melt.

"second of all," you ignored his comment. "i guess i can forgive you since, you saved the world and all." he chuckled at your joke, finally relaxing his shoulders.

"you- you're not freaked out?" he finally asked. and you shook your head.

"you knew i always had a thing for supernatural stuff," you said with a shrug, smiling at him. he smiled back, squinting his eyes because of the sun. "yeah, i know." he nodded.

"so uh," you avoided his gaze again. "got any girlfriends? you've been gone for too long, we need to make up for it."

you were actually scared to ask this question, because you couldn't had a boyfriend after him. you didn't know why, but you were so loyal to him that you didn't even loved someone after him.

"no." he said. "i never loved anyone like i loved you."

oh gods, you thought. did he read my mind? how can we be this same?

"you-" you stuttered. "you- what?" he chuckled, pinching your cheek.

"guess i skipped the part were my fatal flaw is loyalty," he explained. "i had the biggest crush on you when we were 12, and i couldn't forget about you ever since. i knew i had to be with you, so i won the wars and didn't die, just to return to you."

the pinching turned into caress, and the next thing you knew was you were in his arms. "perseus jackson," you whispered, tears rolling down. you hated when you were filled up with this much emotion. "you're really the worst first love."

he only smiled, like he knew the feelings were mutual. and deep down, he did. all those years, he knew he was going to reach you and make you his one day. just when all of the stuff was over, like now.

"i know pretty," he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. he kept caressing your cheek gently, and your noses brushed every once in a while. "but i'm gonna make up for it, i swear it on the river styx."

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

All: TRICK OR TREAT!

vampire marty as a late halloween treat :]

[charleemoon]

hii omg i love your hannibal content - especially your takes on will i swear you understand him the most ever !! <3 i was just wonderingggg (im sorry this is dark) what do you think wills reaction would be if hannibal died a few years post fall?? im interested in your vision honestly haha

okay oh my god i had to sit down and turn my pc on for this

warning for death, emetophobia, suicidal ideation

i think the responses would vary slightly depending on his cause of death. i think the most realistic for them would be hannibal falling ill. they're not sure what it is. an infection, something autoimmune. hannibal's always been attentive to their health, but whatever it is, it slips under their radar. will tries everything, he waits on him hand and foot, the whole world stops. the medications don't help, the check-ups lead to nothing new. hannibal speaks often of god's cruelty, rapsy with chapped lips and burning skin. he doesn't seem troubled. it's almost like he's been waiting for it–the clock ticking down since he was eight, the other shoe about to drop. will tries not to beg, tries not to bargain.

every moment with him, reading his books out to him in broken french, cajun accented and ugly on his tongue. basic meals that will toughens out, burning the fish and the underside of the pan with how often he zones out, body tingling with unreality. for so long, will thought hannibal near invulnerable. they survived a fatal fall, outran the fbi, nothing could touch them. and here they are, hannibal sickly and thin, stag-like and small. he tries not to weep.

when he dies, it's not grand, not beautiful. will has his head on hannibal's chest, hears the broken whisper of mischa's name, and quietly, almost like it fears impoliteness, the beat of hannibal's heart stills under his ear. he doesn't move. he doesn't sob. he just lays on hannibal, and waits to die with him. waits for his heart to stutter and explode in his chest. for them to die together, for their bodies to rot in this house until someone finds them, decomposing and growing into each other. to finally be united as one. it doesn't come. it never comes

the next few days feel like forever. he doesnt leave the room. he doesn't move, just lays in bed with hannibal. relishes every twitch of his body in rigor mortis, holds him until he's frigid cold to the touch, caressing his bone white knuckles. he lays with him until the smell is unbearable, the decomposing meat sweet and pungent. will hunches over and vomits roughly on the hardwood floor, all foam and stomach acid. it wakes him out of his stupor, dizzy and nauseous.

hannibal hated waste. he would hate to rot away in this bed, purposeless and empty. hannibal was so, so beautiful, and he deserved to be part of the world's endless beauty. he, in death, deserves to be elevated to even more.

he uses every part of hannibal. stitches his hair into his fishing lures, soap and candles out of his fat, lathering himself in hannibal, warmed and alight at night with his burning flesh. carved the bone of his annulary into a ring that he wears on his own. they hadn't gotten married yet, will was going to propose this year. he was already hannibal's, and hannibal was his.

he buries the rest of hannibal in the backyard the way he did his childhood dog. he uses him as compost for the garden they always planned to start. he starts studying hannibal's recipes, tastes the vegetables like hannibal's organs, plump and raw on his tongue. hannibal spoken once, broken and with a smile, about will eating him. will wouldn't listen then, and he waited too long now. with their garden, hannibal could be in every meal will has for as long as he can maintain it.

will still kills, but not as often now. him and hannibal had different ideas of rudeness, of righteousness. there wasn't much need to compromise anymore, and it wasn't the same without him. killing was a form of intimacy, of retribution. it feels horribly lonely without his company. he wonders how hannibal stomached doing it like this for so long. now that he knew what killing was like together, everything paled in comparsion.

he kills and elevates, brings beauty to the world when hannibal cannot. at times though, he is wrought with anger, impulsivity. he'll hear a nasty word, a privileged scoff, an underhanded comment on the sick and the dying. things that remind him of hannibal, the ungratefulness, the disgusting spouts out of the mouths of those who no clue what it's like to lose. sometimes he drags them by their hair, beats their face until their skulls cave in. he shudders at the sight, destruction so extreme there's nothing to harvest. hannibal keeps finding new ways to change him, to make him weak, even in death. it almost makes him happy.

he wonders a lot of things about hannibal. questions he never asked, things he wasn't certain of. despite the years, they were slow, and gentle. there wasn't any need to rush into things. they had their whole lives to get to know each other. that's what he told himself. he looks into his family, studies the books he read, his jotted notes and underlines. he relearns loving hannibal, grows to understand him without him there.

the community is nice where they've settled. it's kind, close-knit. they usually had to make their way into the city to find anyone rude enough for their tastes. he volunteers, frequents the libraries and holiday celebrations. they're so sorry for his loss, always sorry. he wears hannibal's clothes out, smells the collar when he feels socially awkward, nervous. he's there, hes with him. he fidgets the bone ring on his finger to soothe himself, akin to how he used to stroke his thumb along hannibal's smooth skin, gentle caresses in public and in bed.

most of all, will starts going to church again. not to pray, or worship. not to beg for hannibal back, demand answers for god's cruelty. he knows why. god is cruel because it feels good. he goes to show him. an insult to him and all he takes away. he stands in the pews and stares into the eyes of christ. will lives and he shows god every way that he defies him.

he never dates again. its not even a thought. he's asked out every now and then, once enough time as passed. they say he's widowed, he's not. will is hannibal's, always. he lives, he grows. he takes care of himself, follows his passions and pursuits. he thinks of death often, but continues on, knowing hannibal would take endless grief in will wasting his life, his beautiful mind blown a hole through with the shotgun under the bed. will has no faith in death to be anything at all, no belief that god would be kind enough to allow will to see hannibal once more. he lives, and he keeps living. but he is displaced, empty. never truly satisfied, never truly happy. and how could he be? he is but one half of a man, after all

[punkeropercyjackson]

You know none of this headcanon stuff matters in the real world, right? Nobody cares about Percy Jackson or Jason Todd, two whole ass white boys, being secretly Latino-coded or whatever

Local loser with a stank pussy admits nobody irl listens to their infodumps and thinks latino is a race in 2025 to a black dad white mom latina with only half siblings on both sides

[fading4ngel]

not me seeing somebody in the cyberpunk tag making ai slop of Johnny. 💀💀

[justalittlebluetiefling]

Okay, but now I really am thinking more about people who are upset that the gods "played favorites" and gave some of their followers more power than others, but learning that there needs to be (I need the transcript and it's not released yet so I'm just throwing stuff out there) essentially mutual love is like... yeah of course the gods are giving some followers more power than others because those people are, as a general rule, WILLING to take on that power. They ask for it. Not everyone WANTS that power.

[mammomlette]

"𝙸 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚗

𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸'𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛."

-'𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚗' 𝚋𝚢 𝙰𝚕𝚎𝚔𝚜𝚒𝚊𝚑

Synopsis: Satan’s world used to be burnt by hatred, but recently he can’t seem to stop the warmth he feels when around the human exchange student.

Genre: Fluff?? None? (Romantic)

Warnings: One of the last paragraphs is a littleeee bit suggestive, not proofread

Notes: Satan x MC, I made this at midnight as I do most things so I blame low quality stuff in that🧍‍♀️also I haven’t wrote in ages ok so give me mercy, MC is referred to with they/them pronouns!! ‘Her’ is used in the title because that’s the song lyrics, but MC is gender neutral :)

Word count: 754

For a long time, all Satan saw was the flames burning through the Devildom. Looking out of the civilised areas and into the land past the denizens and watching as the natural flames of the Devildom overtook trees and small animals, growing higher and higher and killing more and more.

Or even if he looked within the walls of the city and into the halls of RAD, even within the perimeter of his own home, there was the omnipresent chaos that comes with a demons nature. Fires, all around, some extinguished and some fed, but fires none the less.

There were the screams. The damned souls or the unfortunate lower demons stupid enough to venture out of the safety of the more civilised Devildom. The shrieks of pain and agony, cries for their long gone family and careless friends to try and save themselves from their own self-inflicted wounds and shenanigans.

All of it was the norm to Satan. He was a demon, and unlike his housemates, he wasn’t turned into one. He was made as one. It was in his very blood since the moment of his very creation to feed on the cacophonous screams of terror and to admire the bright flickering lights in the distance, to bask in its attack and glory.

The burning hurt, but it was part of a demons nature to touch fire.

Never did he long to seek out the daylight his brothers described from their celestial days nor did he yearn for peace and tranquility that the celestial realm presents.

So why now was it that he spent so long yearning for a human?

Horrible choirs of unwilling participants being replaced by the sweet harmonies of their laughter, the fires causing chaos in the distance being replaced by the flush on your cheeks when he gets to close or says something in that’s hushed manner, disrupting his heart instead of those of the innocent.

Never had he felt so in tune with his brothers. He has always been different to them, knowing they have different origins, knowing they have different powers, knowing they have different thoughts and feelings- However now, he finally understood them. The way they, among other demons, would turn their heads as you walk past and the way people would whisper about how sweet you seemed (In what way, he wondered)

He, liked the rest of the crowd, followed you around helplessly after you slowly made your way into his heart and combined your souls into a beautiful pact mark on your skin.

The way you would stop and look at him, for even a second, when with someone else while they were talking. The way you would turn to him and stifle a laugh whenever someone was making too much of a fool of themselves at an important meeting or during a lesson, biting your lip or hiding your face while your shoulders shook. The way you would always ask what he wanted whenever you were going up to buy something, even though you both knew he had more money than you and wouldn’t mind queueing on his own if he wanted something so badly.

The little things showing you cared.

The way you would spray yourself in human body sprays to create such an artificially sweet smell or the way you licked around your lips after chugging a drink or shoving too much food down your mouth was utterly tantalising. Did you even know?

Did you know how he wanted to eat you up, give in to his demonic nature and devour you in so many ways, like a cannibal? Know how badly he wanted to taste your food on your tongue and smell your body spray from his head planted right in your neck?

Did you even know how badly he wanted to put you on a pedestal, high above everyone else for the three worlds to see, and did you know how much that thought fought with his urge to keep you to himself like a collectable, delicate and gorgeous and all his?

His yearning was indescribable, but he would never stop pining after you even if he could. Because the way you look back at him and offer your hand with the slightest shake in your smile and the smallest blush on your cheeks gives him the slightest flicker of hope that you might just yearn for for him like he yearns for you. And a little flicker is always capable enough to turn into a flame.