“Make that bird stop chirping, I’m trying to sleep.” Natan.
Like all her fellow homo sapiens, Natalie quite likes getting her full eight hours of recommended sleep (on weekdays, anyway, weekends are solely reserved for waking up at 3 PM and watching cat videos until night arrives again) and waking up fully rested so she can tackle her demon-filled day with a smile on her face.
(It pisses them off and Natalie lives for being low-key petty.)
Today, on March fifth, in the year of her roommate’s brother/cousin (add to her to-do list: figure out how Satan is related to Jesus on the family tree) 2017, however, Natalie does not wake up fully rested and smiling, oh no, she wakes up with death written out in the depths of her bottle-green eyes. Whose death, one may ask? For once, it’s not Satan. No, this time it’s the infernal little chirping shits perched outside her window. At five in the mcfucking morning, if she’s reading her alarm clock right.
“Make that bird stop chirping, I’m trying to sleep,” she mumbles, and buries her head deeper into her fluffy, hypoallergenic pillows. Beside her, Satan shifts and yanks her blanket closer to him. “You go make ‘em shut up, kid, I’m not your servant.”
“It’s Sunday, Luce. If those birds don’t shut up in the next five minutes, we’ll be at Church in five hours for Mass.” Natalie smiles victoriously when the Devil practically leaps over her prone body to get to the window. Human - 75, Devil - 125. She’ll catch up soon.
She hears a bird squawk and says, “If you kill any of those birds, we’ll be going for evening Mass as well.”
Satan mutters out curses and grumbles about annoying little girls with too much power in their hands, but appears to comply as she hears the flapping of wings and then sweet, blissful silence.
“Thank you, Lucifer,” Natalie coos as he flops next to her. He tries to steal her blanket again but she merely rolls closer to his body warmth and sighs deeply.
A/N: this is my
first imagine for this blog! hope you enjoy :^) (the title is a racial motif from othello and idk why i did this)
and you are at one of many of Tony’s infamous parties at a huge club opening,
he sees you as a little lamb—innocent and young. Bucky sees an overly drunk-off-his-ass
guy trying to hit on you, seeing that you look so helpless, he tries to defend
you but you beat him to the punch – quite literally.
You sat at the bar, quietly, letting your thoughts brew as you swirl the liquor in your glass
endlessly. The thoughts that rest in your head are nothing but nonsense, trying
to help yourself get through the night – and hoping that Tony is keeping
himself out of trouble. You being his new assistant (the old one decided that
his one too many requests for a specific amount of cheesy fries was just too
stressful for her), keeping Tony out of the papers was your main goal, although
you weren’t the top prioritized person to be watching over him, it was an
important factor to your job.
Bucky sat across
the over sized room, sitting on an extremely overpriced leather couch; watching
you intently. His eyebrows were so tensed that they were pushing against each
other, focusing obviously way too hard on the soft and delicate object in his
vision. He stared at the soft colors painted on your clothes, your dark hair
gently placed on your back – almost perfectly. He couldn’t help his eyes wander
over your gentle features; your dark hair and eyes contrasting almost exemplary
with your pale skin and pastel clothing. He always saw you like this; the
perfect contrast of light and dark, the complete balance of black and white.
Bucky only ever admired you from afar, afraid of scaring you off for obvious
reasons (to him at least). Luckily, you always followed Tony around – you being
his assistant, and he always had the pleasure of watching your movements; the
tender steps you took but also seemed to have a harsh impact, the wind-swept
sound of your voice but the abrasive tone of it when you had to scold Tony. He
admired you, he adored you—he loved you.
"woah SOMEONE'S PMSing lmao" "Look all I'm saying is that women shouldn't have power because their hormones will make them make horrible decisions" "what do you mean you can't have sex right now??"
*tries to explain how periods actually work"
"woah woah I didn't want to know that" "gross" "ew keep that stuff to yourself"
Idk if this has been asked before but how about all introverts in one room with only a tiny window and heavily-locked door trying to escape?
WOW!!! MY FIRST NORMAL ANON!!
(All eight of the introverted types were going about their ordinary lives when suddenly they found themselves in a large neon yellow room, with a tiny window and heavily-locked door as the only means of exiting.)
ISTJ: (tries to get everyone to the center of the room to make a plan)
ISTP: (immediately tries the locks and breaking the window)
ISFP: where am I?! Ew, what a horrible color to paint a room! My eyes hurt already.
INFP: let’s introduce ourselves!!
INFJ: this reminds me of a book I read. Maybe … we’re all actually characters in a book. Or a horrible MBTI fic.
ISFJ: (introduces self to INFP, they start talking)
INTP: (attempts to pick the lock with some random stuff they have in their pockets)
INTJ: (tries to recall how to pick a lock, so they can tell INTP what to do)
(In the end, INTP did succeed in picking the lock, with some help from INTJ and ISTP. They open the door and it turns out they’re in a maze of these stupid neon-colored rooms. They escape and it turns out it was a terrible prank done by the extroverts. Time to plot revenge.)
(Sorry if this was terrible. This is the first time I’ve ever gotten a request.)
ok but the first time michael ever admits he likes you he’s terrified, because you two have always had such a playful relationship and tease each other nonstop, and it was really an accident and he wasn’t thinking, he hadn’t meant to just absent mindedly mutter “why do i even have a crush on a dweeb like you?” and now he can’t stop blushing and stuttering as he tries to back track, saying things like “ew what the fuck? no i don-noT have a crush on you that’s so ridiculous!” but his rosy red cheeks give away everything