#decaffeinated writing

[interdimensionalhellscapeportal]

Obviously this sketch is from an AU where he grew up with regular dental care and also the ability to smile without Vibes of Impending Doom

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Pregnant Reader - Part 3

So after the final part of Not So Single Mom I realised I still had a few more parts planned for the pregnant reader fic so while we have a little writing momentum - here we are with part 3. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part One

Part Two

You press a hand to your stomach, smiling as you feel the movement beneath.  Your little girl was a dancer, it felt like. 

“Oooh, is she on the move again?” asks Janine, dropping down to sit next to you.

“And apparently determined to get somewhere,” you chuckle as you feel the baby shift.  “You want to feel?”

She gasps.  “Really?”

You shrug.  “If you want to?”

“Yes!” she grins.  “Definitely yes.”  She holds out a hand, grinning as you take hold of it and settle it against your stomach.  Janine squeals when she feels the baby move beneath her hand. 

“You trying out to be the new fire alarm or somethin’?” asks Melissa as she enters the breakroom, a frown already on her face at the high pitched noise as she heads for the coffee machine.

“The baby’s moving,” grins Janine.

The red head’s eyes zero in on the spot where Janine’s hand rests against your stomach.  “And that gives you an excuse to get handsy, does it?”

The younger woman shrinks back at Melissa’s words, her hand quickly retracted back to her own lap.  “I should get going, I have things to get set up anyway.”

You watch the younger woman go.  “’Lissa, I offered to let her feel.  It’s not like she just decided to get hands on herself.”

“Good, or she’d find finger painting difficult soon.”

Rolling your eyes at the implied threat you can’t help but smile at her possessiveness.  It’s nice to still feel wanted and protected even though you feel the size of a school bus.  Your smile only grows as you watch her prepare not only her own coffee, but a mug for you, ensuring that yours comes from the special jar of decaffeinated she picked up for you. 

*

Janine isn’t the only one to be excited at the prospect of the baby moving, quite a few of your colleagues all too eager to have the chance to feel the life moving inside you.  To say Melissa does not share their enthusiasm is putting it lightly.  You have to hand it to her though, after her initial snap at Janine, she’s been subtle by her standards.  A curling of her fingers into a fist.  A scowl.  A glare. 

One day, however, you hear it; she growls.  You’re seeing your kids off at the end of the day and one of the mother’s hands has apparently wandered a little too far and lingered a little too long for the red head’s liking.  You turn to see her standing at the top if the steps, arms crossed, stony expression on her face.  Politely saying goodbye to your student’s mother, you make your way up the steps to stand in front of the red head.  You reach for her hands, untucking them from her arms and placing them against your stomach.

“You can’t kill them all, you know.”

She frowns. 

“I’ve seen the looks you’ve been throwing at people.”

Her eyes drop to where her hands rest against you and she shrugs.  “I just don’t like people with their hands all over you.”

“’Lissa, there is precisely one person who gets to have their hands all over me and she’s standing right in front of me.”

“But-“

You shake your head.  “They’re excited.  That’s all.  The baby is exciting for them too, especially now she’s started her gymnastics.  It’ll be old news to them soon enough but let them be excited for a while.  Let them be excited about your daughter.”

*

You sit back in your chair with a sigh.  “Seriously, little one, you gotta give the tap dancing break.”  Reaching for your phone, you quickly type out a message to Melissa, asking if she can swing by your classroom when she has a moment.  Barely sixty seconds later you hear familiar footsteps rushing along the corridor.  A few moments later the red head appears in your doorway, hands clinging to the frame to halt her momentum. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her worry for you and your daughter never far away.

“You didn’t have to come running,” you say as she enters your classroom, green eyes roving over your frame, head tilting questioningly to the side when she finds nothing amiss.  “I said when you had a minute.”

She shrugs.  “I always got a minute for you and the baby.”

At this, you smile.  You smile because it’s true.  It doesn’t matter how busy, how tired or what else happens in her life, she will make time.  There are times you feel guilty, but somehow, she always manages to persuade you your guilt is unwarranted.  “I need you to tell your daughter to quit throwing a tantrum on my bladder.”

When Melissa frowns you reach out your hands, taking hold of hers and slipping them under the loose jumper you wear.  “I don’t know what voodoo magic you pull but just do what you do.”

Automatically, she moves her hands against your skin and after a few moments you smile in relief. 

Tilting her head, she regards you curiously. 

“She settles when it’s you,” you tell her.

“Really?”

You nod, covering her hands with your own.  “It took me a while to figure out, but yeah.  When it’s your hands she stills.  It’s the same at night in bed too, especially when you speak to her.  She knows you.” 

Melissa tries to hide a sniffle, but the tears glistening in her eyes give her away.

“Turns out she’s just as fussy as her mama as to who has their hands on me.”

[edupunkn00b]

When Passion and Heart Meet

A pre-canon one-shot (?) inspired by A Solution to Repression on AO3.

WC: 1729 - Rated: T - There's a whole lotta repression going on -

“We’re in love, we’re in love, we’re in love, we’re in love!” Princey’s voice rang out as he spun into the room. Cheeks rosy and arms waving wildly, he turned and smiled at the other Sides. “Am I right or am I right? She was wonderful! Stupendous! Incredible!”

“She wass indeed,” Self-Preservation nodded slowly, watching from the corner of the room.

Anxiety had already found a perch on top of the refrigerator and the Heart moved to the kitchen, passing up two chocolate chip cookies to him with a little smile.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed. Taking down a mixing bowl for a batch of oatmeal raisin. “Gloria was super nice and…”

“She is quite intelligent, as well. And her major is remarkably compatible with ours. We are certain to have additional classes with her in the future,” Logic sat down on the couch, sipping what the Heart hoped was decaffeinated coffee. His eyes flicked over to Self-Preservation as he spoke, who nodded again.

Peeking out from beneath heavy bangs and his grey hood drawn low, Anxiety’s eyes watched them all.

“Sharing classes in the future? We’re destined to share far more than simple classes!” Princey cried, turning a pirouette, both hands pressed over his heart. “We shan’t let a treasure like her slip from our fingers! She’s smart and lovely and funny and—”

“Oh!” Heart laughed from the kitchen. “And do you remember how the waiter kept making puns about the specials? He was a hoot!”

Self-Protection slid a little closer to the kitchen, eyes intent.

Logic chuckled, a soft smile spreading across his face. “And those Doctor Who references? He didn’t miss a beat.”

“And he was so sweet, too. Remember when the little kid at the table next to ours dropped his sippy cup? He grabbed it before it hit the floor!”

Passion appeared, sprawled along the back of the couch. “But not before we got an eyeful of that sweet ass!”

“Aw, man! Gross!” Anxiety growled from the top of the fridge. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Anyway, back to our date!” The Prince huffed, scowl at his brother quickly morphing into a broad grin. “We should get married!”

“What!?” Logic and the Heart cried in unison. 

“The fuck are you—” Passion fell off the back of the couch and scrambled to his feet, making a bee-line toward the Prince. A yellow-gloved hand snaked out and wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place.

“Tell uss more, Princey,” Self-Preservation purred while watching Anxiety draw his hood further down over his face.

“She’s wonderful! And if we get married then we’ll qualified for joint housing on campus and we can start our life together even before we graduate!” He raised one arm in a regal gesture. “A true fairy tale ending.”

“Perhapss we sstart a little… ssmaller?”

“Oh! I could write her a sonnet! I could dedicate an epic poem to her beauty! The smoothness of her skin! The lustre of her hair!” He grew thoughtful, stroking his own locks. “I wonder what kind of shampoo she uses. Do you think it would give ours the same shine?”

“Back to the ssonnet?” Self-Preservation prompted.

“Yes! Yes, a sonnet dedicated to her. Glorious Gloria.” He summoned an ornate feather quill and a scroll. The heavy parchment rolled off the coffee table and onto the floor where Passion sniffed at the end before gnawing on it. “Ugh, this is no good. I need my desk. Ta-ta, everyone! I must write!”

Self-Preservation’s smile had softened as he watched the Prince drop into creative mode and he nodded. “I’ll come up and help you if you wish. After I check on… you know.”

As if on cue, the dark orange door upstairs rattled in its frame. Self-Preservation’s hand lingered on the Prince’s shoulder and he smiled. “I’ll come find you as soon as I’m done.”

The Prince nodded as he walked and wrote, the scroll trailing behind him. “Uh-huh, see you,” he murmured. He didn’t notice the brief quiver in Self-Preservation’s jaw as he watched him retreat to his room.

But Heart did.

“Now,” he clapped his hands lightly, looking over the remaining sides. The Duke had moved to the counter, laying on his belly, feet kicking in the air as he encouraged the Heart to add more salt to the cookies.

Logic was watching both of them, an opened but unread book in his lap. “Erich Fromm’s The Art of Loving?” Self-Preservation asked, head tilted as he read the title page.

“Oh, well, yes,” Logic frowned down at the book, smoothing down the page. “It thought it might be useful to broaden our knowledge of… love if we are intending to pursue a—”

“If?” Self-Preservation asked, watching Anxiety cautiously climb down from the top of the refrigerator.

“Since we are intending to pursue a relationship for which we have no natural desi—” He swallowed, watching Self-Preservation’s fingers flex. “Experience,” he finished.

Self-Preservation held his gaze for a long time before finally nodding and leaving him to his book. “Thank you for your diligence, Logic.”

He frowned, then hid his face behind the book. “Thank you for yours, Self-Preservation.”

Heart turned back to his cookbook as Self-Preservation entered the kitchen, pretending he hadn’t been watching their conversation.

“How are the cookies coming along, Heart?”

A sunny smile spread across his face as he offered Self-Preservation a lemon gingersnap. “Why don’t you tell me, Kiddo? I made this batch especially for you.”

“Why, thank you,” he murmured and took a small bite. The cookie was crunchy and bright, lightly sweet with the tang of lemon and rosehips. He inhaled deeply, savoring the warm aroma. It reminded him of picnics and summer and Princey’s condit—

“They’re delectable,” he said, quickly finishing the cookie in two more bites.

Heart’s grin shrunk but never completely left his face. “I’m glad you like them.”

A dull thud from upstairs shook the ceiling and all eyes rose. “I should go check on him,” Self-Preservation murmured. “You four should consider going to bed soon, as well,” he said, giving each a careful look.

“Oh,” Heart dusted his hands on his apron and grinned and the others. “I was thinking maybe after this batch of cookies, we could play a quick card game or something? You know… to work out our zoomies?”

Self-Preservation inclined his head and made his way upstairs. They listened as he knocked on the door upstairs before letting himself in.

Hands buried in his hoodie pockets, Anxiety hopped down from the fridge. “I… I think I just wanna go to my room and…”

“Anxiety?” Logic closed his book and hugged it to his chest. “Would it be helpful for us to go over one of your sleep meditations tonight?” When Anxiety hesitated, shuffling his feet, Logic stood and offered a small smile. “I believe I would benefit, as well.”

“Yeah, L,” he nodded. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

Almost mirroring Self-Preservation’s pose, Logic bowed his head to both Passion and Heart. “I bid you both goodnight, then. See you in the morning?”

Heart nodded, smile bright. “You’ll have a fresh batch of oatmeal raisin cookies waiting for you, Logic! Goodnight!”

“See ya in the morning, Teach!” Passion winked at him. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite! Y’know…” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Unless you’re into that kinda thing.”

“Gross,” Anxiety shuddered and gave Heart a little two finger salute before slinking upstairs.

“So,” Passion said, leaping off the counter and landing directly next to the last remaining Side. Heart let out a little giggle and bumped his shoulder. “Can I help?”

“Sure,” he nodded and passed Passion a clean apron. “You should put this on, this can get kinda mes—”

Their hands brushed against each other, igniting a little spark of static electricity and they both laughed. “You got me!”

“Have you ever seen that in the dark?”

“Mm-hm, like when Thomas is unloading laundry with the hall light off?”

“Yeah…” Passion nodded. “Watch this!” He rubbed his hands together over the apron and jerked his chin to the wall. “Hit the lights!”

Laughing, Heart turned off the kitchen light and darkness fell around them. “Oh!” 

A riot of tiny sparks danced between Passion’s hands and Heart moved closer. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, wanna feel?” he asked.

“Sure,” the Heart replied, stepping closer, both hands outstretched. When they got close enough he could feel the heat of Passion’s palms, a bright spark shot out between them. He yelped, then giggled. “That’s so cool. How’d you figure that out?”

Passion shrugged, voice quiet in the near darkness. “Just fuckin’ around.” They moved closer until, finally, the sparks stopped and their hands were just barely touching.  

“Language,” the Heart whispered, tapping Passion’s fingers.

“Sorry, Papa Bear,” he whispered back, grinning in the dark as he laced their fingers together. His teeth practically glowed.

Heart stared back at him. The static was gone and he felt nothing but Passion’s hot hand wrapped around his. “Are we…” he started, glancing up at the dark stairwell. The hall upstairs was quiet. Self-Preservation could come down any minute, but maybe he was busy. He swallowed again and stepped a little closer to Passion. “Are we allowed to do that?” he finally managed, giving his hand a little squeeze.

It felt… nice. It felt right. But a little twitch in behind his ribs told him Self-Preservation wouldn’t like it.

“Why not? Do you wanna hold my hand?” Passion asked. “I mean…” he stepped closer and let his other hand rest at the small of Heart’s back. “I mean I know you do.” He dipped his head and murmured near Heart’s ear. “Kinda like how you know I do.”

“I don’t know what you want,” Heart retorted, quietly. “I just know what you feel.”

He smiled and the soft mustache he’d begun to grow tickled Heart’s ear. “Not much of a difference right now, is there?”

Warmth flooded Heart’s chest, the mix of his own feelings and of Passion’s colliding together in a swirl that pulled him closer until his own lips brushed Passion’s cheek. “Is that okay?” he whispered when Passion pulled back. His eyes were just visible in the light of the stovetop clock.

A wild grin split his face as he nodded. “Only if I get to kiss you, too.”

“Plea—” the Heart drew close and let the crush of their lips finish his words.

[arabellavernierwrites]

don’t worry. s.r.

summary: spencer returns from work more stressed than usual, you try to ease his anxieties.

(all of my works can be read as any gender)

word count: 783

warnings: mentions of crime, somewhat suggestive ending, mentions of stress

a/n: hello ! thank you all for being so supportive of my previous post. i absolutely adore spencer reid, as i’m sure we all do, and love writing about him. and i love to write for you ! so please, send in requests if you have any , i would really love to bring someone’s idea to life ! i am also currently working on creating a masterlist , i want to make my page easier to manage for you guys. thank you so much for being so wonderful , please reach out if you ever want. thank you again , have an incredible , amazing , wonderful day , love you guys !

your legs stretched out in front of you as you mindlessly watched tv. a bag of decaffeinated tea leaves swam around your mug, you liked the taste, but didn’t want a rush of energy. 8:23 pm the clock read. it was a quiet, mundane evening for you. you had gotten off work, had dinner, showered, and still had time to rest on the couch for a while.

you were waiting up for spencer. his team was working on a case out of the main office, which granted him the ability to go home at the end of the day. you had assumed spencer appreciated cases close to home, thinking of the comfortability and ease of it, but quickly learned it was quite the opposite.

spencer believed the farther away the case was, the better, because the farther away the criminal was from you. while you appreciated the thought, and believed it to be sweet that his cheeks flushed when he nervously explained himself, you didn’t want him to worry.

the lock of the door suddenly jolted as you prepared yourself for the ball of anxiety that was about to walk through it.

“hey, hun,” you spoke gently as he shuffled into your apartment.

his head stayed down as his hands shook, shoving his keys into the satchel at his side, “hello”.

you tried to keep the uneasy frown off of your face as pushed his bag onto the table, his body practically rattling with stress from the day.

“how was work?” you asked, holding an arm out towards him, beckoning him to join you on the couch.

“mm,” he mumbled and shook his head, “it was work”.

he snuggled up to your side, wrapping his arms around your middle and digging his nose into your neck. you could feel him take a deep breath, sighing out everything he had witnessed earlier.

this wasn’t totally unusual for spencer, while he was good at compartmentalizing all that he saw, he was still a sensitive person. there were many days that he had brought the stress of work home with him, and on those days, you knew that all he needed was love and time to decompress.

“one of those days?” you asked, pulling your hand up to the back of his head. you worked your fingers through his hair, massaging the tension out of his scalp, hoping to provide the slightest bit of relief.

“it-” he shook his head slightly, “yes, it was one of those days”.

“you can tell me if something is upsetting you,” you offered, knowing that spencer was adamant about keeping the horrors of his job from you.

“i just-” he took a breath, “i don’t ever want to be called into work and end up at your front door”.

a wave of anxiety folded your stomach in on itself. the gruesome world of crime plagued his mind day and night, his sleep was disrupted, he called to check on you more than he should, and he feared a threatening shadow at every turn. while you oftentimes wished it would stop, you knew how passionate he was, so you learned to live with it. you shared a bed with his anxieties at night, cooked them breakfast in the morning, and had no option but to welcome them into your home.

“spencer, please don’t worry about me,” you rubbed his back.

“i know, but-” he tried to interject.

“hold on,” you stopped him, “i know you can list every statistic in the world about victims of violent crimes, but i won’t let you worry about me becoming one. i know it’s difficult, but sometimes you have to trust that the people you love will be okay”.

“it’s hard,” he whispered, lips pressed against your shoulder.

“i know it is, but the effort isn’t worth nothing. and if it offers you any consolation, i’ve learned how to protect myself from the best,” you pecked a kiss on the top of his head.

“me?” he asked, looking up at you.

“no, derek,” you joked, a small smile spreading across your cheeks.

he playfully rolled his eyes, “right”.

“of course i mean you,” you pushed his hair out of his face, “but, please, no more worrying about me. you have to believe that i’ll be okay. i love you and don’t want you to stress”.

“i love you too. and i will work on it,” he promised.

“and if it’s really bothering you, just shoot me a text. or call me, i won’t complain about a call from you,” your finger traced the outline of his jaw, his desperate eyes bore into yours.

“how does a bath sound?” you suggested.

he grinned, shyly, “please”.

[commanderfoxdeservesbetter]

Another if you have the time - Drop a word into my ask box, any word at all, and I'II write three sentences of a fic with it!

: decafinated

Fox spits out the liquid back into the cup, his face scrunching in distaste.

Thorn rolls his eyes and states, “it’s just decaffeinated coffee,” as though he didn’t just give Fox the worst drink he’s ever tasted in his life.

“Yea, well … keep that in your stash and I’ll have my heartburn coffee for the long shifts.”

[eliduremaybe]

fortifying myself to write an essay with decaffeinated coffee and very much non-alcoholic apple juice, like a knight gearing up for battle in paper armour and a sword made of cardboard

[silberfell]

Okay, I read a lot of fanfiction with Miguel O'Hara and it seems that some of the authors like to write him drinking black coffee. BUT (here comes my take) I headcanon it as decaffeinated. So please hear me out.

We know that Miguel is 50 % spider and some time back there was a post...

.. so I headcanon that caffeine messes with Miguels senses hence why he can't drink coffee anymore. However he doesn't want to miss the taste.

No wonder he is so grumpy. The man needs to organize the whole Spider society, deal with chaotic teenagers, push down his own trauma and didn't have a good amount of sleep to begin with.

[faeriekit]

Okay, question:

Coffee or tea? ☕️ 🫖

(I find myself drinking both…unless I am about to pass out on the spacebar. 😅✨)

And where is your go-to place to write? 🤔

...if left to my own devices, it's easier to find decaf than decaffeinated tea. :( Unfortunately, medical needs are what they must. If at home, though, I LOVE making overly complicated tea things.

I don't have a go to place to write! I actually stagnate if I don't move my working area every few days, haha; my laptop can be on a table, at my bedside, on a chair, or in a vehicle with me, depending on the need. I'm better off if I move than if I stay.

Thanks for asking! 🧡

[doodlingwren]

Get to know me (tag game edition)

Rules: answer and then tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with. And remember to make a new post, don't reblog!

Tagged by @floaromaxtowns

Favourite colour: pastel green or pastel blue and white. Ultimate combo, but in general I like soft pastel shades.

Last song: LA SAD - AUTODISTRUTTIVO

Currently reading: Saintia Sho, Frieren: Beyond Journey's End, Dungeon Meshi. I have to finish Animal Farm by George Orwell as well.

Currently watching: rewatching The Dragon Prince because next season drops in a few days

Currently playing: nothing

Currently craving: lower temperatures. Tired of having 42 degrees outside. Summer isn't for me 😭😞.

Coffee or tea: ICE COLD water 😬 otherwise decaffeinated tea is okay I guess

A hobby you would like to try: crochet or sewing maybe? I know some basic stuff on how to cross-stitch but it would be so cool to actually know how to sew my own clothes (and a dress or two as well)

An AU/Alternate universe you've been plotting for: that is such a good question. I have a lot of AUs with my friends about our silly DnD characters 😂 mostly we plot these alternative universes because we often have to postpone our campaign sessions, but we still need to do something Dungeon and Dragons related (everyone is busy or somewhere else during summer). I don't have much going on regarding tv shows or similar because I'm not a writer, and coming up with ideas is a bit difficult. Or better. It's difficult if I have to express them by only writing them, instead of, well, drawing them. If this was a "what comics are you working on at the moment" I would have a lot more to say 😲😳

Tagging @floaromaxtowns @triko-the-fluffy-artist @awesomesauce2929 @trecciolinooooooo and whoever wants to do this ^_^

[psychwardpup]

If you've been drinking coffee everyday or almost everyday with two cups, your body does end up building resistance to the effects caffeine would normally have on a person So while you would possibly have to have a higher intake, you'd only build a higher resistance to it if you do intake caffeine in the same amount everyday to almost everyday! At least, That's what I am assuming? Unless you have it seldomly then that is a different story! And thank you</33 I hope I get better soon too because coughing so much sucks like ohgmiisnfhnjsd immediately ripping out my throat with how bad it hurts ojhgyd...... — 🥩

DAMNIT not the immune system decaffeinating my coffee >:p guess i’ll have to switch to energy drinks w more bad shit oh nooooo ( 👹 ) i don’t actually know what’s in monsters but they taste so good so idc

ALSO U TYPE SO FAST HOLY !!! writing up all that in like . 2 minutes wowie :>

[decafdino]

NICE ASK WEEK IS UPON US!!! 🎉

Hello friend!! First, I love your username!! Are you a decaffeinated dinosaur?

okay, I think I’ve seen you mention that you’re in school for writing? What kinds of things do you write? What are your favorite topics to write about outside of Tarlos?

ahhhh lemon thanks for the ask!

I am in fact a creative writing major. I usually focus on fiction, because to me it is the most interesting thing to write, though what I typically write varies. The dream is to either be a screen writer or a novelist 🤞

right now, I'm focusing on short stories! I've discovered that I prefer third-person pov in the present tense, which I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with my background of fic writing. Currently, I've been on a kick of human-meets-supernatural-creature trope. I love writing queer stories in particular with the found family trope.

Personally, I wish that I could write more of my tarlos fics, but that's most likely going to be a summer project for me once I actually have the time (and emotional bandwidth) to write something outside of classes.

once again thank you for the ask :>

ps no promises but my hopes and dreams are to get the tarlos medieval au out this summer. we'll see if i can deliver on that tho haha

[serpenttailedangel]

Why the fuck does my writing software have the word decaffeinated in its spellcheck dictionary while not recognizing caffeinated as a word?

[redwayfarers]

A long, long line

Fandom: Infamous IF Ship: Swan/Orion Characters: Swan Ellis (OC), Orion Quinn Rating: Gen Words: 684 Summary: Swan wants their morning coffee so very badly. If they could trade their feelings for their manager for it, they would. Nero’s note: Felt like this fic needed to be let out of my google doc drafts. Swan has eaten enough of my braincells for it. Please enjoy my breach into a new fandom!

Someone’s car honks in front, another honks in the back. It’s 8am on a Sunday, there shouldn’t be so much honking, in front of Starbucks, of all places. Childishly, Swan considers adding in a sorrowful little honk of their own - if cars can be sorrowful, which they highly doubt. They’re not using their voice before they’ve had their morning coffee. 

There was no coffee at home, they reason. There was no coffee at their place so now they have to buy the Starbucks one. Why wasn’t there any coffee? Well, they forgot to buy it yesterday. Their phone sits with its screen darkened on their lap. By their calculations, they have about 45 seconds to figure out a logical excuse as to why they’re late for rehearsal. Orion’s gonna be on my ass about this, Swan bemoans internally as they tap their nails against the wheel. The line isn’t moving. Their head is screaming for caffeine. The phone screen is dark and nasty and evil and filled with Orion’s quiet frowns that cut into their very soul.

On the 43rd second mark, it comes to life. Orion’s name clouds the photo of the band, tightly wrapped in a group hug. Their manager’s name sits directly over Swan’s head and they can’t help an aborted, miserable snort. Where are you?, the message reads. We’re waiting for you.

Swan sighs and opens the message. The line’s long, they reply to the background vocals of an annoyed shriek of yet another honk. It’s fucking Sunday. I’m decaffeinated.

Don’t you have coffee at home? Swan can hear the disapproval. It makes them tap their nails of their free hand harder against the wheel.

Forgot to buy it yesterday. 

Irresponsible, if you’re going to have an addiction to it anyway. 

Swan frowns and adjusts their glasses. Vocal parts will have to come later today unless Devyn wants to start before I’m there. I refuse to sing without caffeine in my system. Then, finally, the line moves! They almost drop their phone as they move a few inches closer to ambrosia. Now, it’s only 4 cars ahead of them. They can almost feel the smell of it in the car. 

Be as quick as you can. And do remember to buy coffee next time. I don’t think you guys are making instrumental music. Swan’s joy deflates like a puffed balloon. They hate it when Orion scolds them like a child. All the more since the unfortunate discovery of a little crush on him a few months ago, which has already ended up in several songs they don’t want to show anyone yet. 

Whoever said that having a crush was fun and games lied. Orion would never consider them as anything other than a client, maybe a friend. It’s stupid and there’s no end goal in feeding their hopes of ever getting past that. But there are songs and singing about Orion is miles away from writing breakup songs.

There are three more cars ahead now. Swan has tied and retied their hair into at least seven different types of buns as the lady ordering hashes out her wishes to a barista. They feel like kicking their feet against their seat, but they’ll have to clean it up later. Dad’s always liked a clean car, after all. 

Two more. They reread Orion’s message and bang their forehead against the wheel. It echoes in their mind like a spank. Humiliating, or would be if Swan hadn’t been a dumbass who forgot to buy coffee yesterday. Disappointing Orion feels like the worst possible punishment, perfectly adjusted to the crime committed. 

One more. It’s almost within their grasp. A bald guy’s arguing about his order. Their annoyance is almost as palpable as Soft Violence’s music on the radio. 

When the coffee - delicious, black, bitter, perfect for 8am on a Sunday - is finally in their hands, Swan sighs contentedly. It’s kinda funny how fast it’s gone, considering how long they waited to get it, but they feel revitalized and ready to face Orion's frowns now! 

Mirror in the Creek isn’t an instrumental band after all. 

[sweettee18]

Dracula (Bela Lugosi) Imagines #2

A Night To Remember

With the truth revealed of her sister’s intentions to remove her out of this world, it’s up to Emma and Dracula to gather all the evidence they need to bring Layla to justice and put her behind bars. I mean, what can she say? She is a lawyer after all.

The finale

For @hrefna-the-raven

 Emma thought long and hard of what she was going to do and how she was to gather enough evidence to charge her older sister, Layla, for hiring someone to kill her. And of course, she was not going to do this alone. Thanks to Dracula, he was able to help her out with a few things. “All that is left is to get her to confess.”, Dracula said as he placed a hand on Emma shoulder. Emma looked up from her desk, looked at Dracula and said, “It’s gonna be very hard to get anything out of her. She’s not going to confess. If only my father was here, he would know what to do.”

Dracula thought about it, and then looked at her and said, “I do believe there is a way to get her to confess.”

Later at the station…

As the hitman was sitting in his cell, the door holding him was immediately opened, and then walked in the detective and Dracula. “Please don’t tell me he’s going to hurt me.” The hitman said as he backed up against the corner. Detective looked at Dracula, then, back at the hitman, replied, “No, he’s not going to hurt you. We’re we actually came here to make a deal with you.” The hitman was the first confused at this, but still, wanted to keep his guard up. “What deal?” He asked. Dracula replied, “in exchange for a lesser sentence, you want to tell them, everything that you know, and who hired you.”

The hitman immediately stood up and sat down at the edge of the bed as the detective took out his notepad and pen, and began to write down everything the hitman told them. Emma scroll through her phone as she waited patiently outside the police station for Dracula to come out. Within 45 minutes, Dracula walked out, shook the detectives’ hand and walked to the car. Emma placed her phone in her bag as she put the keys in the ignition, turned to Dracula and asked, “Well, anything?” Dracula looked at her and replied, “He will be given a lighter sentence, no more than five years if he was willing to cooperate and go with our hoax.” Emma nodded, started the car and drove to the nearby café to get something to drink to calm her nerves.

As she and Dracula sat down, Emma was mentally a wreck. “I just can’t believe my sister would do this to me, all because she believed father loved me more than her. I mean, he loved us equally.” She said, as she took a sip of her decaffeinated espresso. Dracula took her by the hand and said, “It is not your fault. You did everything you could to make sure you were there for her.” Emma looked up from her espresso and smiled at him and he did the same. “I read my father’s journal a few days ago. He said many things about both of us before he passed away.” She said that she took another sip of her the espresso, doing her best not to cry. “What did he say?” Dracula asked, Emma replied, “A lot. How she expressed her hatred toward me, and how my rabbit really died.” Dracula set up from hearing what she just said. “She killed your rabbit?” Emma nodded.

“ So, when will this hoax take place?” She asked. He replied, as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, “It will take place tonight at 7:30 PM. We have to make sure and be careful that it does not look anything suspicious or she will know we’re onto her.” “I am very scare of what will happen next. I do love my sister and not ever did I do anything to her. But I have to do the right thing.” Dracula and Emma got up to walk out of the café before they did, Dracula pulled her into a hug, and said to her, “I understand. Even your parents would.”

Later that evening…

 7:30 rolled around and the hitman was at the spot that he told Layla to meet him at. The detectives and the police force in on it as he paced back-and-forth, waiting for her. Finally, a car pulled up and out came Layla with an envelope in her hand. Dracula and Emma were in the car with the detectives, monitoreing the hitman just in case he tried to bolt. Layla gave the envelope to the hitman and said, “Is it done?” The hitman looked at her as he took the envelope and replied, “Yes, it is done.” As soon as he got the envelope, three or four officers ran out of their hiding spot with their guns drawn, commanding her to get down on the ground. Layla was caught off guard that she did not know that he was in on it. Feeling defeated, she surrendered, and let the police cuff her.

As she was being lead away, Emma walked up to her with a look of disgust on her face. Layla, however, had this evil smile on her face, as if what had happened did not affect her. “Things would’ve been easier if you were just out of my life. You make me sick to my stomach every time I look at you.” Layla was hurt hearing this, but instead of showing it, she said to her in a gentle, but cold voice, “If only our parents were here, they will be very disappointed and ashamed of what you tried to do. I’ll see you in court.” “Let’s go.” Said the police officer leading her to the cruiser. Before getting into the car,Layla turned to her sister and asked,“So this is it? You going to put your own sister in jail?” Emma stopped walking and turned to her and replied, “What can I say? I am a lawyer after all.” Almost immediately, Layla smug was wiped off her face when Emma said that.

As the police took Layla to be booked, Dracula walked up to Emma and asked, “are you all right?” Emma looked up at him and replied, “Yes, for now. I still have a long way to go. What’s next is the trial.” Dracula looked at her before bending down to kiss her, he said, “Everything will be all right. You will see.” Then he captured her lips with his. She felt her heart accelerate as if she were to be a jack rabbit on the run from a fox, for she will never forget that this would be a night to remember.

Epilogue

The trial went on for seven days and Emma represented herself, for she was indeed, a lawyer after all, represented the evidence against her sister. Layla pled not guilty as the hitman pled guilty.

True to the detectives’ word, the hitman was given five years to serve in prison while Layla, however, was found guilty of murder for hire and attempted murder. She was sentenced 35 to 40 years. Somehow, Emma knew Dracula was not human, but she was OK with that, just as long he doesn’t kill anybody. later down the line, they decided to tie the knot on the anniversary of when they first met, which happened to be on her birthday.

Currently, not only both her and Dracula were expecting their first child, she’s now studying to be a judge.

Hope you guys enjoy the story may you all have a blessed day. 😊 

[someoneinjersey]

made it through the weekend and even was able to go get some things done before we went and picked Bizzy up from her babysitter. i got my oil changed and i wanted to throw a fit because it cost $68. Ten years ago I could go right down the road and get an oil change for less than $25. what the actual fuck. so goddamn aggravating. told my mom about it and how as usual i'm not even a week into the month and basically all my disability money is gone. all she said was "welcome to adulthood. sad." and i swear i wanted to reach through the phone and shake the shit outta her. last week or the week before, kate and i had a big not-fight and during our talk afterwards we discussed how since my mom is my single biggest trigger and/or the source of seemingly unrelated triggers, i need to go back and make more boundaries or reinforce the ones i tried to put in place a while ago. and i was like hm, okay, i'll have to think about how i can broach the subject of say, being in contact like once a week unless something comes up maybe. then the very next day mom hit me with "you know i think if you didn't come to see me in october i wouldn't have survived" and i just threw my fucking hands in the air and gave up. idk what to fucking do and i don't have a therapist anymore and i'm extra moody about it all right now because i started my period four days late.

in any case regarding money, i was able to not mooch off kate all weekend since we went away so early in the month, and so the only things i "treated" myself to (besides food which is 50/50 on whether or not it's a treat or making life easier or whatever) was a denim boiler suit from walmart, potting soil, four pots, and a grow lamp so i can repot and move the four plants that live on the kitchen windowsill. i've never kept plants alive this long so i don't intend on letting them die yet, so they're getting bigger pots and new soil and i'll likely move them into my bedroom. probably switch night stands and stick them on the one in the far corner with the grow lamp. i wish we had places to put them out in the house but A we get zero sun B the aloe plant and chrysanthemum aren't good for the cats and C i'm the only one that takes care of them anyway so they might as well just stay in my space. and it's also like, is it "treating" myself to something if it's keeping a living thing alive? idk. and the denim boilersuit looks so fucking cute i have no regrets spending $28 on it.

it's still incredibly weird drinking coffee every day but it has been helping my moods, surprisingly. i also make myself have a cup of tea (usually decaffeinated green tea) before bed. i'm still keeping up with my planner, though i'm letting myself slide when it comes to my little goal of reading every day. if i blow through too many stories too fast i burn out, so i'm taking my current book slowly and giving myself some grace to take days off. i've eaten like shit since thursday what with being away from home (and today being busy and too tired to cook) so i've noticed i feel not as good in that respect but i can get back on track maybe by tomorrow. maybe. still being exhausted and also being in my period doesn't really bode well for having the energy to make healthy meals or being able to deny my period mood cravings. i have a very unhealthy relationship with food. my feelings inside turn foul and evil if i can't have exactly what i want to eat when i want it if i have a craving. it might actually be psychotic.

i have some things i've been wanting to write, little fanfic ideas. or maybe not so little. but i can't activate that switch in my brain to actually do it. i have hang ups. a lot of them. bah

oh and i left my apple watch on the other side of the state like a fuckin champ. night yall