#;unnamed

[wenda-agenda]

can I munch on your ear

They look tasty

Like pizza slices

But under ooked

"EWEWEWEW NOOO GET OFF OF ME! MY EARS ARE NOT MADE OUT OF PIZZA! AHH!"

[They taste like marshmallows! Yum!]

[infernointerra]

Suggested connections: female/male best friend / significant other of any gender or sexual identity / step-mother / step-father. (This doesn’t necessarily has to lead to anything sexual, it could also be fluff)

  ❝ What do you mean with... Wash... My hair? ❞ A quiet raspy voice sentenced before taking another drag of her cigarette, tone of voice coated in her naiveness, so cluelessly wonder what the other had suggested upon walking into her taking a bath. 

[aconstellationofsinsxa]

Started from this.

@imnobodysson

Monty looked back at the other man confused then, it was made rather clear when the other grabbed him at his collar and neck.  In a blind panic he started struggling. Stopping in his tracks the second teeth entered his neck. He bit his lip to contain a little yelp. When Murphy’d finished the job he turned to him and gave a little shove. 

“That hurt! Alot! What is wrong with you? I meant ‘bite me!’, you know in the sassy joke way! Wh-Wh-What are you!?”

[whatareyouseven]

pulledfromhell || is this my life || AU

If there was anything that Sam had learned in his eighteen years living under John Winchester's thumb, it was how to adapt.

Sam had adapted to living in a moving home, adapted to sharing tight spaces with his brother constantly, adapted to shooting guns before he could properly write his name, and adapted to his brain suddenly bursting into overload and being able to touch people's minds.

The one thing he couldn't adapt to, though, was this. This living alone, drifting from place to place by himself, trying to fit in. The odd part was, it was all within the confines of the Stanford campus. His dad had dumped him there, given him money enough for living -- Sam had ensured himself a full tuition ride -- and left with a few terse words that included 'don't try to contact us' said very clearly.

He'd lived on campus first, then off campus in a house, then an apartement. He'd spent a few days living on people's couches, and now he'd settled in, for the moment, in a beat up old VW van that some guy had tossed him the keys for with a profanity burdened 'I'm outta here'.

It was better than a lot of places Sam had stayed, and if he parked close enough to a coffee shop he could pick up free wifi too. Granted, he had to call on the few friends he had to make sure he had showers and a place to cook, but that was it.

And it had privacy. Privacy enough that when Sam woke up in a cold sweat at four in the morning, thoughts that were not his own clouding his mind, he didn't have people crowding around him, begging for answers. He did have a cell phone, however, and he was dialling the number without thinking about it.

Dean always knew how to calm him down.

[whatareyouseven]

likestobecalledstiles || all over now || au

Coffee shops always soothed Sam.

They were simple, predictable. They smelled familiar and they were all the same in one way or another. This one happened to have a wall of books people could borrow whenever they pleased. Sam liked that, because it was a display of trust, and because it dampened the sound in the place. The music playing over the radio -- some classical music that Sam didn't even pretend he could identify -- only added to the atmosphere.

Sam had come here a lot since he got back. It was easy, familiar. Four years overseas fighting for your life and drinking piss poor coffee, never quite dry and always scared? Well, any coffee shop would do in exchange.

Before he left, Sam used to drink what his brother ever so tactfully referred too as 'girly drinks'. Lots of milk, lots of sugar and very little actual coffee. Since he'd gotten back, though, he could barely stomach those things anymore. It was always regular coffee now, strong enough to keep him from sleeping until he absolutely had to and just sweet enough to take the edge off.

It was how Sam divided his life now. Before and after. Before he left, after his life was turned upside down. And before was heartbreak, after was physical turmoil. His back was fucked to hell, his left hand didn't quite work properly and, oh yeah, he slept a nice average of three hours a night. War is hell.

But sitting there, in that coffee shop, finishing his coffee, it was a moment of peace.

And then real life came calling and Sam stood -- always stiff after sitting for so long -- returned his cup to the counter and headed towards the door.

He'd always been a big guy, had gone through the childhood phases of petting animals too hard and tripping over just about everything around him. He'd never quite grown out of the 'don't see shorter people until they're right under you' phase. That was how he explained away crashing into the guy entering the store, hands flying out immediately to balance the guy.

"Sorry, man, I wasn't watching where I was going --" Sam broke off, finally looking at the man's actual face, rather than his shoes, "I -- Stiles?" Oh fuck, not this. Not now.

[whatareyouseven]

Angst please

My muse has poisoned themselves (accident or purposeful, up to the mun.) and become very ill while alone with your muse

One word to describe how Sam felt at that exact moment? Shitty.

"Remember when I said that my drink tasted weird?" Sam's voice was kinda thready as he swayed slightly in his seat, face coated with sweat, "I think I was right," He was gonna throw up, fuck.

[spectrewolf]

"If y'got somethin' t' say y'should say it instead o' hoverin' around me like some sort o' hummingbird," she said. The same person had been in her peripheral for about fifteen minutes now without saying a word. The Commander wasn't a fan of people hanging around her for no discernible reason.

Casually, calmly, she turned the page of the file open on her datapad. She was knee deep in paperwork for the most part but at the moment was taking a little break to read one of her books. This one happened to be a book many would probably be surprised to learn about, given the fact it was a fantasy novel. 

The book had a lot of philosophy that she sometimes applied to her life and the way that she commanded her crew. 

Image was everything. If it looked like she wasn't nervous or anxious, then there was no advantage to the other party. She was entirely calm, in fact. She knew what she was capable of. 

She didn't once look up, not until the asari answered her, gave any kind of explanation for the behavior. 

Mind what people do, not only what they say, for deeds will betray a lie.

"Unless of course you are waitin' for me t' order a refill on my coffee. In which case, yes I will take a refill."