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I know the frustration of non-mobile-friendly masterlists of stuff you wanna read but hate going to safari or wherever to get the links SO here is a mobile-friendly, reblog-able, bookmark-able masterlist of the shit that I love to write/make :-) I’ll update this every few days to make sure all is up to date!
I guess Rick has got himself into a pickle this time. So Pakku-chan hasn’t watched the new Rick and Morty episode since she’s addicted to some Korean show. But I couldn’t wait. PICKLE RICK is just too awesome. How many of you looked at this and went like “PICKLE RIIIICK”
They told you he was no good for you. That he was the worst kind of poison, the kind that feels good coursing through your veins until you realize too late that it has malicious intentions, that it would tear you apart.
The first day you met Luke you could see what they meant. He had heartbreaker written all over his face, and the half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips made a cough build in the depths of your throat. His blue eyes drew you in from the start, and though you knew the stories, as you looked at him you fiercely wanted to believe they were untrue.
“Mind if I sit here?” He rasped, voice carrying a slight twang. And although you’d just seen him finish off a cigarette, his breath smelled like mint.
“Sure,” you replied, scooting over on the train to make room for him.
He sat down beside you, shuffling his long legs so they fit in the space in front of him. Music was blasting out of his earbuds, one placed in his ear and the other hanging loosely by his side.
You looked at him in your peripherals, thinking that he was too absorbed in his music to notice that you were sneaking glances at him. Unfortunately, Luke was much more aware of his surroundings than you thought, and he turned to you after a while, lips cocked up in a half-smirk and eyes looking you up and down.
“See something you like?” He asked.
You gulped, feeling awkward. “S-sorry. Um… where are you headed?”
You were surprised to find that he lived near you.
That was the first of many days that Luke sat next to you on the train. The two of you always sat in a pleasant silence, already knowing millions of things about each other without having to exchange words. Luke could tell who you were by the different books that you read each time on that train, by the smell of your perfume, by the way your eyes sparkled as you looked out at the trees in the distance through the windows. You could tell who Luke was by the way he walked, by the color of his shirt, by the vapors that poured out of his mouth that you wanted to swallow up.
And once, he asked you.
“You wanna try?” He said, holding out the cig.
You wrinkled your nose. “No, Luke. Smoking’s bad for you.”
He didn’t know that you had something better than the cigarettes, something with blue eyes that reminded you of the ocean and legs that stretched for miles.
“the temperature at which the vapor pressure of a liquid equals the pressure surrounding the liquid and the liquid changes
into a vapor”
When a series of fires unsettles the city of Magnolia, Detective Lucy
Heartfilia unwittingly reignites a war between old rivals. But when she
finds herself drawn to one of her suspects, the lines between right and
wrong begin to blur.
rated: M for Mature Content (no nsfw scenes this chapter)
Natsu backstory time! Prepare for some nsfw next chapter ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Her voice was soft and hesitant, and no small amount of horror filled it.
“Hm?” Natsu looked over his shoulder and saw his pretty detective standing in the doorway, wringing her hands.
Her brown eyes, wide and all-encompassing, marveled at his slick back, or rather the decorations on it. He knew what she was seeing; the ugly, warped mass of flesh that stretched from his right shoulder to left hip bone and the gaudy tattoo that smothered it. Though she tried to hide her morbid fascination, Natsu was well aware of what it looked like to her.
Rather, what he looked like–a butchered patch-job gone wrong. Like a sadist had taken clumps of his flesh and stuck them together without smoothing them over.
Even the tattoo, as large and colorful as it was, couldn’t hide the sheer deformities underneath it.
His spine grew stiff at the reminder of just who he was. “Yeah, pretty nasty scar from my last job as Salamander,” he told her, snapping her out of her staring contest with his back.
Lucy’s eyes dragged upwards to meet his sheepishly, as though she were embarrassed to have stared for so long. “How did it happen?” she murmured, stepping further into the muggy bathroom.