#they/them pronouns

[lifeanditsquirks]

I remember my mum was friends with a "gender counselor". And that said gender counselor talked me out of being nonbinary and into being a trans man. I assumed that since they were a professional they had to be right. So I started wearing my binder more often. Almost every day in fact. Sometimes for more than 8 hours because I felt so dysphoric (don't do this. I ended up with chronic costochondritis). I dressed masc. I got an endocrinologist so I could start T. I tried changing my voice through vocal training videos. I got a top surgery referral. I was doing everything I thought was right.

I was miserable.

It took years to undo the brainwashing she put me through. Making me something I was not. Making me second-guess everything about my identity. It was horrific. She would constantly use he/him pronouns for me. She would constantly refer to me as a man. And she would correct others if they used they/them pronouns for me.

After she was arrested I spent some time really thinking. Why was I so dysphoric all the time? I stared unraveling the rope she used to tie me up. And I found that she was wrong about me. I wasn't a trans man at all. I was nonbinary! The identity I started with. I started using they them pronouns again. I let people know that I wanted to be referred to with gender-neutral terms.

I feel so much more confident in myself.

So I guess the moral of the story is don't let anyone tell you who you are. You know yourself best. Your identity is your journey. Don't let others move you in directions you feel uncomfortable with. You'll be alright. You've got this.

[tenderanarchist]

🖤self-portrait as A Butch In Love🖤

[lgbt-tiktoks]

Description:

[A video of a white blonde person sitting at a laptop. Text on screen reads “Lesbians when they’ve hit the 1 week stage with someone they’re taking too:”.

They open up the Spotify app and click “Create Playlist”. Then title it “for someone special”. During the entire video the audio is a group of people disapprovingly repeating variations of “Emma no!”, “no!”, “stop it!”, and “Emma!”.]

End description.

[siriusly-remu]

it's been a great day but WHY YOU GOTTA MISGENDER MEEEEE I KNOW I TOLD YOU MY PRONOUNSSSS

[timelessstardust99]

close friend ✦ imagine

SPOILERS FOR BITS OF EPISODE 8

pairing: alastor hartfelt x hellborn! reader (platonic marriage)

Summary: y/n gets sucked into the princesses dream of the hotel by their husband after trying to enjoy their day off from work.

When you had been summoned by your husband, you had just wanted to relax and enjoy your day off from work.

The shock you felt when you were greeted by the bubbly princess had flustered you, because you weren't used to talking to royals.

Alastor had first explained who you were and what you do was quite the shock. Being married to the Radio Demon, platonic or not, wasn't something demons had expected Alastor to do.

He looked at you and Nifty as family and occasionally took the both of you on trips to Lulu Land after everything at the hotel was taken care of.

He would sometimes out of nowhere want your attention or lean his elbow on your head (you were a bit shorter than him).

He wasn't the most affectionate but would sometimes call you "dear" or "sweetheart" whenever the two of you were alone.

No matter that you were Hellborn, he was still happy to have a friend like you that would continuously listen to his broadcasts. He was also happy Rosie had taken a liking to you, but he already knew she would. She was a sweetheart.

You were one of his closest friends and when he had found out about platonic marriages (courtesy of Rosie of course, she knew almost everything about things like this) he knew he would ask you to be by his side.

While the two of you grew closer, you couldn't help but be glad you had married Alastor. You were the happiest you could be, and of course your parents were proud as well.

And as you stayed at the hotel, the other main four (of course not including Husker, Alastor, and Nifty) had been considered family.

And as time went on, the battle between the hotel staff (along with the cannibals from cannibal Town) and the exorcist angels, had destroyed the hotel you had come to love and was worried sick when Alastor disappeared after he held off Adam.

When everything was over and done with, you were relieved that Alastor was alive and well, which, after the failed extermination, you didn't want to leave Alastor's side for the whole day, fussing over him and the injuries he had sustained.

And once everything had settled down and you had gained a new room at the hotel, you had became a little more protective over your little family, and that protectiveness had gone over to Lucifer as well, even if he was the King of Hell.

Another chapter of yours and your Husbands lives were about to open, and you didn't know whether it was good or bad. And with the knowledge of Alastor's soul being owned by another demon gave you a feeling that nothing will be happy. Not with a life like yours.

I'm sorry if he's ooc, I just really wanted some fluff with him and of course he wouldn't be overly affectionate, because it's Alastor, but he does care about the reader and loves them just like Nifty.

[tojisworm777]

Uraume thinks Sukuna is so beautiful....

they think he is absolutely stunning.

his beautifully sculpted body is truly a work of art. they've never seen someone so magnificent.

gorgeous, Uraume thinks as they trail behind Sukuna. he's not wearing a shirt (he usually doesn't when it's just them two), so Uraume has the honor of staring at his bare back.

the way his tattoos cascade over his broad shoulders. the way his waist tapers, but not too thin, just right. the way his muscles move when he flexes or stretches his arms. and oh god, those arms! all four of them are so big and mighty. Uraume thinks about how effortlessly strong their master is.

when Sukuna says, "Raise your head," and Uraume has the pleasure of staring at Sukuna's front, it is so hard for them to keep that stoic face.

raking their eyes from the bottom to the top of him. his strong and muscular thighs, to his wide abdomen adorning his belly mouth (that Uraume swears is smiling at them right now), to his large chest that looks soft enough to rest their head on, to his face.

his captivating face. a face that instills fear in people. a face that makes peoples blood freeze. a face show-stopping face.

Uraume loves that face. they think he has the most unique face in the whole cosmos. looking at his face -- into his eyes -- lights a fire in Uraume they've never felt before.

Ryomen Sukuna is the most alluring, striking, and elegant figure in Uraume's eyes. And he always will be because no one else can even compare to their master.

[genderstarbucks]

Some Reclaimed Terms!!

Hemab | Hefab

Shemab | Shefab

Theymab | Theyfab

Itmab / Itfab

I don't even know if these terms exist besides theyfab but I like reclaiming terms so wtv

[inkpot909]

Rohan Kishibe Falling for an Assistant!Reader

↳ Reader’s gender is not defined/is gender neutral. Reader is in college and not a stand user.

A/n: ‘roHan KisHibE wOuLd nEveR hiRe an asSissTant-‘ Rohan Kishibe loses in fights against teenagers. He’s been famous since the age of sixteen; there’s no way he can even do the dishes properly.

Warning(s): Swearing.

Rohan Kishibe began the process of finding a personal assistant not a year after Yoshikage Kira’s death.

Not too long before, the idea of hiring an assistant was one the mangaka would openly mock. Him? Needing assistance? Not a chance. His work ethic is unreal; able to disregard what other artists would consider as valuable help. The Great Rohan Kishibe works solo at every opportunity and everyone ought to know it.

Although his reputation to many of the people around him can be rocky, one would be hard pressed to find anyone with the opinion that he needed an assistant at all.

However, the kind of aid he sought was, for lack of a better term, a glorified maid.

The Kishibe resident itself is big enough to comfortably home a family of five, and Rohan famously lives by himself. And completing tasks associated with home ownership had always been a big pain in the ass to the artist. Too much of his time was wasted on ‘unnecessary’ trivials (things others would describe as regular adult responsibilities).

Not only does he lose precious work time to maintaining a house, but also to grocery shopping, sending messages to his editors, and even cooking.

In short, he independently searched for someone to take care of his home and busybody tasks on the regular. Releasing an ad, he felt confident that he’d find someone. Even if the job itself turns a handful away, a generous payload would be sure to entice a fair amount of people.

Trudging through resume after resume, interview after interview, Rohan eventually came across you.

A young college student, taking a small yet steady stream of classes. Your resume was average to many your age, but stood out to him for other reasons. Namely, your application was well-written and to the point (something he had increased appreciation for at that stage in the interviewing process). Not only that, but the specific experiences you have had in the workforce was good insensitive as well. The final nail in the coffin was a general feeling of honesty pooling from your written words. Judging by how it was written, he could sense genuine realness. In short, you didn’t bullshit.

Amidst your educational endeavors, you searched tirelessly for a stable income. Spotting Kishibe’s ad, you resolved it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot. And as fate would have it, you were contacted in order to set up an interview.

Unsure of what to expect, you dressed yourself up and swallowed your nerves. The interview itself was to take place at a tiny coffee shop in Morioh Cho and you were thankful for the short trip.

Meeting one another at the agreed time, Rohan’s character quickly confused the hell out of you (as much as it was intriguing). He’s certainly the type to leave a lasting first impression, while seeming careless to your own thoughts on him.

It was intimidating, overwhelming, and admirable all at once.

Also, he made it clear his work’s extremely important to him, the sole reason behind why he searched for help in the first place. More time to work; more time to dig for inspiration.

His dedication is what truly sold you, finding it weirdly motivating. Within just fifteen minutes of speaking to him, you’d forgotten that he’s only a year or two older than yourself.

That was, until the interview went on longer and he let it slip that certain worries plague him. Especially between chapter releases. The prospect almost made you sad; both his ego and anxiety possibly due to being a well-renown artist from a relatively young age.

Your personal response to the questions plaguing your brain was to disregard them, and instead focus on an expectant Kishibe. His eyes were sharp, looking down at you and impatiently awaiting a response to a question you completely missed.

You didn’t need to hear the exact words, though. Smiling sheepishly, you reached out your hand and shook his own. In the back of your mind, it was assumed any answers to your questions would eventually arrive one way or another.

They were bound to, considering Rohan Kishibe was- from that moment onward -officially your boss.

And to say it was a rough start for the both of you would’ve been an understatement.

Initially, you were a little shy about making any more assumptions or even observations. Hell, you were shy in general. Adjusting to the new job became a top priority over any curiosity about your peculiar boss. But when working with a man like Rohan Kishibe, it’s difficult not to hang over his every last word despite yourself.

However, time brings with it familiarity. Not only with a usual work routine, but with Rohan himself. His initial sternness made meeting his expectations all the more satisfying. Without a doubt, you were proud of how quick you got into the swing of things.

He prioritized quietness and swiftness, but was also surprisingly fair. Even after accustoming to the work environment, he always comments on a job well done.

Except for when he’s deeply invested in his work. To you, it’s difficult to tell if he even notices your presence upon entering the art room. However, it’s not as if you slipped into the background, but he simply grew used to you being there on occasion.

Months passed. You grew to have less and less questions about a man you no longer called Mr. Kishibe, but instead by his first name.

The two of you don’t necessarily need to speak in order to be communicative. You’re at a point in your relationship now where you found reading into his actions to be surprisingly easy.

That’s an aspect he certainly wasn’t expecting either, not used to such things.

Just the smallest shift of his facial expression- just a lift of a brow -and your eyes light up with understanding. Sure, he can ‘read others like a book,’ but you’ve seemingly mastered the language of Rohan Kishibe’s demeanor without any stand power.

Then he notices that you’ve started doting on him. An extra selection of sugar with his morning tea. Always taking an enthusiastic intrest whenever he shares his art. And a specific kind of contentment or pride you put into your work that he honestly would have never foreseen.

For the longest time, he was adamant that he wouldn’t use his stand to peak at your past and present. His power had grown considerably, and became more selective of who he investigates. However, his curiosity overcomes a sense of restraint on his own abilities.

He couldn’t help but take a peak. Besides, he could find something usual for his writing. Regardless of whether or not he did, he found something else as well. Written in on your second page, his name was the most recent in a list of people you harbor (or have harbored) feelings for.

Rohan can move on after that. No problem. It wasn’t the first time he’s found his own name written down in someone’s book as a crush. It’s nothing to pester you about; nothing to even ponder. Nope. Just go back to work. Not a hint of romance is going to suddenly appear in his manga (it’s psychological horror, why would it be?) out of thin air.

A week passes. Two weeks pass. He’s become a little more silent as of late, but it’s nothing you care to mention at all. Rohan gets absorbed in his work often, and you figure you’ll get the chance to ask him about his work a later time.

Your patience is respectable; it’s downright endearing. But the lack of investigation on your part made his teeth grind together in frustration.

He doesn’t think of you that much. Not really; don’t flatter yourself. His mind just lingers on your memory when you leave. Rohan’s thoughts merely turn to you when introducing a noticeably beautiful character in Pink Dark Boy. And it’s nothing special that he gets agitated when he doesn’t see you for a few days.

While you put him out of your mind (the thought of him is far too flustering), Rohan’s lingers on your more and more. The glances he throws at you dwadle, observant in the way you’ve been for months.

Standing in the front hall of Rohan’s home, your body is leaning against the wall while you pull your shoes on. The sun hangs low in the sky, kissing the horizon line. A pinkish blush spreads across Morioh Cho, dusk signaling the end of your work day. While making your effort, footsteps travel from the top floor and down the stairs.

Lifting your head, a smile spreads across your face when meeting your boss’s gaze. He’s made his way to the bottom of the stairs, stopping a comfortable distance in front of you. “Taking a break?” you ask gently.

“For a short while,” he confirms, before adding in a mumble, “Although I know you’d lecture me about working late.”

“You said it, not me,” you jest, straightening your back upright after slipping on your shoes. You fold your hands behind you, long coat softly swaying as you momentarily rock back and forth on your feet.

“Only so you don’t say it yourself.” Rohan crosses his arms, shifting his weight onto his right foot.

“Because you prefer the sound of your own voice?”

Rohan opens his mouth, only to close it anticlimactically a moment later. His brows furrow, and eyes dart away from your person. Biting the inside of his cheek puffs out his lips subtly.

It’s times like this that you wished you were the artist. He’s so insistent on capturing reality, in all it’s forms. But he’d be your muse of choice. Yet he neglects that he’s a work of art himself, you mentally note with an audible giggle.

Rohan’s demeanor changes, his pondering expression morphing into a curious one. It merely strengthens your smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rohan,” you finally speak.

“Yes, of course,” he replies dismissively, as if it was redundant of you to mention.

Chuckling once more, you move forward. The mangaka’s breathing catches in his throat when you wrap your arms around him, and forehead collides with his chest. The hug is short, but noticeably warm.

You pull away far too quickly, waving him ‘goodbye’ and going on about buying him a St. Gentleman’s sandwich for lunch the following day while walking out the door. Rohan merely nods, watching the front door delicately shut behind you.

He’s stunned. Unmoving in his spot, only his eyes blink dumbfoundedly. Is he really going to head upstairs like nothing happened? Even now? Just continue working a few more hours of the night away? Maybe he should mull you over in his mind for a moment or two. Maybe for a couple of minutes. The way he’s starting to feel around you may not be a problem, but it certainly is something isn’t it?

He bites his lower lip, silently cursing your name. He attempts to ward away the rising heat on his cheeks with a shake of his head. For once, he’s glad he cannot use his stand to read his own mind. Because even without such ability, he has no doubt it would clearly state that The Great Rohan Kishibe has grown much to close to his assistant.

[lgbtq-userboxes]

Emoji credit: customemoji

[mogai-sunflowers]

they/them femme flag!

they/them femme flag-

[Image ID: A flag with nine equally-sized horizontal stripes. From top to bottom, the colors are deep indigo, medium purple-pink, red-pink, pastel red-orange, white, pastel orange, pastel red-pink, hot pink, and medium purple. End ID.]

flag by me, requested by no one! tagging @radiomogai​​​ and @corax-blackwolf​​ :3

[unhonest-iago]

Goth Bunny

Male reader

'You kept complaining about there being no Easter baskets that fit your aesthetic so we're making some.' y/n explained to Corpse as they walked into his apartment, arms full of shopping bags. 'At least let me help carry it in.' He grabbed half of the load, ignoring their protests that it wasn't that heavy. 'You know I don't celebrate Easter, like ever, right?' Sitting at the table as y/n unloaded all the bags' goodies. 'I know but you said you were bored and I figured between streaming and making music, this could be fun little DIY project.' Corpse sighed, not needing another project on his plate. Voicing this, y/n replied, 'But it'll take a day, hell, few hours at most. I'll buy food.'

'Fine, as long as it doesn't permanently stain anything.' Glaring at them while also reminding them of the last time they'd used Corpse's bathroom to dye their hair. 'Already thought of that, bought containers!' Holding up the items in question. 'Fine, so how are we making these baskets exactly?' Looking at the spread of items; containers large enough to hold the white bunny themed baskets, black fabric dye, plastic gloves, pliers, scissors, rings, and studs. 'Well, first we have to dye them.' Corpse's movements lethargic as he got up to boil some water. The two not needing to reference the box's directions. Pushing the baskets down into the black liquid.

Y/n ran to open the door, thanking the delivery driver for bringing their food. Placing it on the table, the two ate while they waited for the basket to dry in the container's after having dumped the water once it ran clear. 'Give me your phone.' Corpse connected it to the bluetooth speaker he had in the kitchen, randomly choosing one of y/n's playlists. Watching them bop around as he pierced the bunny ears attached to the basket with rings. Opening and closing the rings with the pliers. A line of studs along the seams, Corpse attempted to make it look like a fleur de lis shaped tramp stamp. 'You want any?'

'Nah, that looks sick though.'

'Only took 3 hours,' exaggerating the time.

'Shut up, you had fun.' Y/n had taken a few photos of Corpse when he wasn't looking, deleting the ones he didn't like. Putting the pictures that got Corpse's stamp of approval into a hidden album.

[supernaturalscribe67]

Silent Affections

Words: 1,600

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Enby!Reader

Pronouns: (They/Them)

Warning(s): None

Summary: Growing up, the reader was never one to say 'I love you' to anyone, even close family and friends. When they got into a relationship with Sam, they did everything in their power to make sure Sam knew how much they truly loved him, without necessarily saying it.

Request:

Hiya! Before I get into the rq, I just gotta say, loved your Sam x Author!Reader fic. v cute!

Anyways, could you please write a Sam x gn!reader (they/them), who's love languages are Acts of Service and Quality Time? They have a harder time saying 'I love you' out loud (not due to relationship truma, it's just how they were raised) but prefer to say it quietly, like when they clean his room for him, or cook him breakfast, and just being near him doing research 'n stuff. Uhh anyways- drink some water or somethin', bye!

@i-cant-write-for-shit

A/N: I loved writing this. I think it's cute and fluffy, and I really hope you enjoy it as well! It's also my first time writing with a character that uses they/them pronouns, so I'm excited to see what you guys think! Thank you so much for requesting!

The smell of eggs wafted through the bunker hallways as Sam entered. A clear layer of sweat glistened on his forehead as a result of his early morning run. Sam took a moment to inhale and admire the delectable scent before he descended the stairs and began to make his way toward the kitchen. He could feel his mouth begin to water and his stomach growl the closer he got to the source. As he turned the corner into the kitchen, a smile made its way onto his face. 

(Y/N) stood in front of the counter next to the oven, their back turned to Sam. Their head was down and their arms moved in short movements at their sides. Sam could see that they were still in the pajamas that they had worn to bed the night before, an apron tied around the front of them evident by the bow that rested directly above the small of their back. Quietly, Sam walked over to them, wrapped his arms around their waist, and placed his chin on their shoulder. (Y/N) let out a small gasp and jumped as they looked over their shoulder at Sam. Sam chuckled, his chest rumbling against (Y/N)’s back. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” (Y/N) breathed. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. 

When Sam looked over their shoulder, he saw that they were mixing a fruit medley. He hummed. 

“What’re you making?”

“Just some breakfast. Figured you would want something after your run. I have some of those egg white veggie muffins I’ve been talking about in the oven, then I got some fruit that I picked up from the store yesterday, and a protein shake for you in the fridge.” (Y/N) explained, gesturing from the oven to the fridge as they talked. 

While they spoke, a content smile was plastered on Sam’s lips. Once they were done talking, Sam leaned against them, moving his head forward so that he could capture their lips in a sweet kiss. (Y/N) raised their brows when Sam pulled away. 

“What was that for?” They asked. 

“I just love you.” Sam shrugged. 

(Y/N) smiled softly as they reached a hand up and placed it on Sam’s cheek. Their thumb gently brushed against the stubble that was growing on Sam’s jawline before they tilted their head up and pecked Sam’s lips gingerly. When they pulled back, they scrunched up their nose and tapped Sam’s cheek lightly. 

“Go shower, you stink.” 

Sam snorted and pulled away from his partner. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He waved them off as he turned and began to make his way out of the kitchen. 

(Y/N) chuckled. “Breakfast will be ready soon so don’t take too long.” 

“I won’t,” Sam called back as he walked out of the kitchen and headed for the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam walked back into the kitchen. Droplets of water dripped onto his shirt from his damp hair and his clothes clung to certain parts of his body. Upon entering, Sam saw (Y/N) setting a plate on the table. It had several egg white muffins on it and a hearty portion of fruit beside it. A tall glass sat next to the plate, the beverage a pinkish color. (Y/N) glanced up and gave Sam a bright smile. 

“Just in time, Sammy.” They said before they walked back over to the counter and grabbed the bowl that sat there. They carried it back over to the table and sat down. “I was afraid that I was going to have to eat by myself.” 

“I was too hungry to take that long in the shower.” Sam placed a hand on his stomach to emphasize his comment. “This looks amazing, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) beamed as they picked up their spoon that sat in the bowl and stirred the contents around. 

Sam glanced over at his partner’s breakfast and frowned. “You’re just having cereal?” He questioned. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re not having any of this with me?” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “I was craving some cereal.” 

“(Y/N), you didn’t have to go through all this trouble to make this just for me.” 

“You’re right,” (Y/N) began as they shoved a spoonful of cereal and milk into their mouth. “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” 

Sam couldn’t help the smirk that played on the corner of his lips as he looked down at his breakfast. The two of them began to eat, enjoying the flavors of their meals in silence for a brief moment. When (Y/N) took another bite, they looked up at Sam with a curious expression. 

“So, what are your plans for the day?” They asked as they took another bite. 

Sam let out a hum as he finished his bite of food. He took a drink of his protein shake to clear his throat. “I was planning on doing some research today, maybe find a hunt for us. What about you?” Sam then furrowed his brows and licked his lips once the taste of the drink registered with him. He took another sip. “What flavor is this?” 

“Oh! I figured I would go with strawberry since you got that chocolate protein powder. Mixes well together.” 

Sam nodded. “It’s delicious.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) gave a closed-mouth smile, mouth full of food. “But, I was going to play some Mario Kart today. I’m still pissed that your brother ended up beating my ass the last time we played.” (Y/N) rolled their eyes. 

Sam chuckled. “He hasn’t stopped bragging to me about it.” 

“If I wouldn’t have gotten hit by the stupid blue shell on the last lap, then I would have creamed him!” 

“You know he threw that blue shell, right?” 

(Y/N) froze, mouth open as they went for another bite of food. After a couple of beats of silence, they closed their mouth, the spoon still mere inches from their lips. 

“What?” (Y/N)’s voice was almost an octave lower than it had been before.

“He was the one that threw the blue shell. I think he said that he was in sixth or seventh place and he told me that he was the one that threw the blue shell and got you knocked out of first.” 

(Y/N)’s jaw clenched as they placed their spoon back into the bowl and leaned back in their chair. They ran their hand down their face and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m going to kill him.” 

“How about you beat him in a race and then decide if you want to kill him.” 

“Oh, I’m going to throw so many red shells at that idiot that he won’t even know what hit him.” 

They sat for the rest of breakfast, chatting about different topics with one another. Once they were both finished, (Y/N) cleared the plates, despite Sam’s protests. (Y/N) was adamant, and Sam found it hard to argue with them. He decided to grab his laptop and make his way into the library to begin his search for possible hunts. 

A couple of minutes after he got settled, (Y/N) entered the room after him. Their Nintendo Switch in one hand, a bottle of Ibuprofen in the other, and a water bottle tucked underneath one of their arms. They sat the water bottle and medicine next to Sam’s laptop. Sam furrowed his brows as he looked at the items before he glanced up at his partner. 

“Headache?” He asked. 

(Y/N) shook their head as they took a seat next to Sam at the table. “Not for me. You’ve been complaining about headaches recently, so I decided to bring you some medicine just in case you got one. You also mentioned that you’ve been wanting to drink more water, so I made you a fresh water bottle filled with ice water.” They explained as they turned on their Switch. 

Sam smiled and tilted his head to the side. He placed his hand on the small of (Y/N)’s back, leaned over, and pressed a brief kiss against their temple. 

“Thanks,” 

“Of course, Sammy,” (Y/N) flashed him a smile before they turned back to the game. “And remember what I told you about the 20-20 rule.” 

“Twenty minutes of looking at a screen and then twenty seconds of looking at something far away. I remember. The same thing goes for you and that game.” 

“Okay, Dad.” 

Sam chuckled before he turned back to his computer. The couple sat there, silence between the two of them. Occasionally, Sam would mention something to (Y/N), which would cause them to pause their game to see what Sam was doing on his computer. Other times, Sam would catch a glimpse at the race (Y/N) was playing and would stop what he was doing to watch them play for a couple of minutes before returning to his search. It was an endless cycle that would repeat until both of them were done with their activities. 

The phrase ‘I love you’ wasn’t something that was commonly repeated when Sam said it. However, he didn’t need to hear the words to know the way (Y/N) felt about him. From the small things that his partner did for him to the time they spent simply being near one another, Sam knew that (Y/N) felt just as much love and adoration for him as he felt for them.

And even though it was a different way of expressing their feelings, Sam wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[trashland-llamas]

Studyblr?

Gn reader

There was one regular who seemed to always catch Tyler's eye who'd order the same thing every visit and sit for a few hours with their computer, a notebook and every type of pen you could imagine

He could never tell if they had a big test coming up or if they were really into studying, them taking pictures of their work before cleaning up their area

Putting the pens back into a roll up container that spread out flat when you opened it, papers back into their folders, notebooks, and computer back into the rucksack

Pen ink staining their hands as they threw away used napkins and an empty drink, pushing their chair back in before walking out the door

Seeing them became the pinnacle of his week, attempting to spot the title of whatever tome they were reading this week and then looking up the synopsis to see if he himself would like it

Keeping it in his back pocket as a conversation starter as they tended to come in during peak hours, Tyler thinking that they must like the loud noises

Finally able to have one when there were no seats both in the break room and out on the floor, all except for the one across from them, waving to get their attention

'Sorry but there's no other seats. Cool if I sit, will only be 10-20 minutes tops.' Shooting them a small smile when they nodded, noticing they'd taken out of one of their earbuds

‘Was about to take a break myself. Name’s y/n, you?’ They asked despite having seen the glaring name tag every time they ordered.

‘Tyler, nice to meet you.’ Quickly extending his hand for them to shake. ‘Uh I hope you don’t mind me asking as I always see you in here but what are you studying for?’

‘My English professor is an asshole who assigns multiple tests and quizzes per week that require a lot of reading. So usually that or whatever smaller assignments I have.’ Proceeding to say how they didn’t notice they came that often.

‘It’s not a bad thing, just nice to finally talk to one of the regulars. Also one of the many orders I’ve unintentionally memorized.’ Both laughing a little at that, Tyler found their laugh adorable.

Tyler felt glum when he realized his break had ended, noticing this, y/n paused the conversation

‘Break’s up, want me to get you a refill?’ Going to grab their cup as he planned to write his number, deciding to shoot his shot even if it ended in a friendship as he genuinely wanted to get to know y/n more

‘If it’s no trouble, just let me get my wallet.’ Tyler waved them off, ‘Don’t worry about it, my treat.’ Y/n wondering what he was writing

Tyler checking his phone whenever it pinged hoping it was y/n until finally, ‘is this the cute coffee barista? Tyler?’

[siriusly-remu]

person: yeah, she- my brain: they person: came up to me, and you know what she- my brain: they person: did? her- my brain: IT'S THEIR YOU FRICKING IDIOT

[fcxyviixen]

redamancy

summary: after an unknown attack, lucifer enters a state of comatose. his soul entering a place called 'dreamland'. where he meets a unknown being called 'mc'. they hold his life candle in their hands everytime he sees them in this space of darkness. time is irrelevant in 'dreamland' so time in unknown, not knowing whether a day or a year has passed, lucifer tries to pass this time getting to know the unknown being.

pairing: lucifer x dreamland!gn!mc

rating: 14+

chapter wc: 277

warnings: mentions of death

prologue

“Lucifer!! Lucifer!!” Lucifer could hear distant screaming, he tried to open his eyes, but couldn’t, they felt like they were trapped shut. He could recognize the demon yelling for him, it was Mammon.

But, Lucifer didn’t remember why Mammon was yelling his name. Lucifer couldn’t remember much of what happened, like it was just a blank slate. He just remembered being at the Demon’s Lord Castle for a meeting, then he was here.

“Mammon..” Lucifer spoke, but his own voice sounded distant to his own ears. He suddenly couldn’t hear Mammon anymore, it almost freaked the pride demon out. Before he knew it a voice called out to him.

“Are you awake now?” It was a sweet voice, a gentle voice. Lucifer finally could open his eyes, but the area around him was still dark, besides a gentle light coming from the person in front of him.

“Who are you?” Lucifer asked, he didn’t know this person in front of him. They weren’t familiar to him. The person looked at him, they seemed to be holding a candle, one that looked all too familiar to him.

“MC, that is what the last person here has called me.” They answered, they looked emotionless.

“Last person.. What is this place?” Lucifer asked, eyeing the life candle, his life candle.

“This is a place between life and death. Or as some would put it, dreamland.” MC answered.

“Between life and death…?” Lucifer questioned, none of his memories coming back to him.

“Yes, you are neither dead nor alive. Your body has entered a state of comatose.” MC explained, a strange smile creeping up on their face. “Welcome to dreamland.”.