#Very Stupid and self indulgent haha

[pynkhues]

Writing asks 28 👀

Oo, have a rough little snippet of this college-era Kenstew Succession fic I'm writing!

28. Share a piece from one of your current WIPs!

“Whatever, we’re not like - - a thing,” Kendall says, shrugging awkwardly. “You can hook up with whoever you want.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stewy replies, and there’s something to the frankness in the way he says it that makes Kendall frown. “Just like you can. Like, fuck, you probably got your cock sucked by some limp-dicked billionaire’s hot mess daughter the other night, right? Whatever, it’s no big deal.”

And right, it’s not, Kendall thinks, and it hasn’t been since the two of them started - - Y’know. Doing whatever it is that they do, so he’s not sure why it’s suddenly taken centre fucking stage in his head.

Outside of the glaringly obvious Thing, of course.

Kendall sucks in his lips, fists his hips, stares down at Stewy’s like - - fucking - - perfectly pedicured feet against the beer-stained carpet of their apartment, and he shouldn’t say it. He shouldn’t, but his gut still feels twisted and his chest tight and the picture of Stewy pushing Brad down on the sofa is basically high definition and surround sound at this point, and he just can’t stop himself.

“I could’ve - - it could’ve been a guy. Who sucked me off,” Kendall says, and then lets his gaze dart up to see Stewy blink back at him. It’s worth it, almost, for the way Stewy’s mouth briefly hangs open before he says:

“Was it?”

Which - -

Well.

“No. But it could’ve been, is my point. On the - - on the situation.”

Maybe he needs to not look at Stewy when he says shit like this, because Stewy’s look careens from surprise to amused to maybe a little bit fucking smug way too fast, which is bullshit, because like, what? He thinks he’s the only one who fucks around with other guys? Which yeah, okay, fine, maybe Kendall’s only fucked around with Stewy up until like, this precise moment in time, but that’s not to say he couldn’t if he didn’t want to, he’s just not - -

Stewy exhales.

“Whatever, man, all I’m saying is I get it was awkward, let’s move past it, y’know? So what? I fucked Brad, who even gives a shit, like. It’s literally old news already, and it probably won’t happen again. Tell me about RECNY. Did Con bring that Caroline clone?”

It’s bait, and he knows it’s bait. A pointed and deliberate pivot with two tried and true starters (after all, it’s not like Kendall can resist the urge to bitch about either Con’s dating choices or his mother, and Stewy knows him well enough to lay seeds to let him feel like he’s picking the direction of the conversation), and Kendall almost wants to sink his teeth into the right now of all of this a little deeper. To ask what exactly he means by probably, because that made his ears burn, but then again…

He huffs.

“She’s not a mom clone, she’s just British, dude, and no, he brought his Jazzercise instructor. Pretty sure they’re the new thing, so.”

And yeah, right call, he thinks, even just for the way something loosens in him when Stewy laughs.

Writer asks

#this is pretty rough so i just want to reiterate that haha #this fic is now p much plotted though which delights me #it is #Very Stupid and self indulgent haha #writer asks #kendall x stewy #welcome to my ama #fic asks

[imwritesometimes]

I check the word count and then I

#honk #i write sometimes #I hate that I feel so stupid abt this lmao like... is it completely self indulgent nonsense? #absolutely. #but has it been immensely wild and fun and almost cathartic to go back and revisit this show these seasons these stupid blorbos #yes. absolutely. #I still don't know if any of it will ever escape containment I see very little point in it #this is like.... the ship I went lol wouldn't that be a funny ship lololol and then I fell into a vat of clown makeup #like hahaha yeah sure I ~ship~ it haha to -> hysteria #idk I'm rambling I need to go to sleep fml

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ Hells greatest Demon ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : You've had quite a rough day, so Alastor tries his best to cheer you up with some food and a broadcast.

Pairing : Alastor x Reader

Word count : 1305

Genre : Sweet Fluff

Warnings ➵ Hinting of cannibalism (Alastor)

a/n : Very self-indulged bcs Alastor is my comfort chara rn and I'm currently having a rather hard time.. Also I'm very very new to Hazbin Hotel, so I'm so sorry if smth doesn't match up or seems out of character! Decided to write this simply for comfort!♡

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

It was another hellish day, like always work was keeping you on your toes, Charlie had yet another plan and of course activity everyone at the hotel had to join in. Niffty was keeping you busy more than any other day, it was slowly getting to you. On top of that, your ex had to show up at your workplace today.

So with all this happening, you decided to get a bit of peace with a tea in the kitchen, but your mind was running a race, ending in simply resting your head on the kitchen table and closing your eyes for a second, trying to tune out Angels and Husks banter at the bar.

"Greetings my dear!" A cheerful, yet accompanied by a radio static sound, voice sounded behind you, you wanted to groan but swallowed it down again. It's not like you despised Alastor, quite the opposite, he was rather lovely and nice to you, shocking. But he sometimes loves to play into someone's despair and you're no exception. "Oh darling, you look rather doomed, haha, why don't you smile, you know you're never fully dressed without one!" Alastor walked past you, shrugging off his coat and laying it onto the back of one of the chairs, his sleeves being pushed up by his hands now. "I'm not really in the mood for smiling right now.." He took a quick glance at you, which you didn't notice of course, before he turned around again to the stove. His staff was now leaning against the kitchen cupboard, soft jazz music was now playing, which was calming you down a bit more.

"Mind sharing your thoughts darling? You look rather lost in them." It was weird for Alastor to care for others problems, yet he asked you, still his back turned to you, your eyes open yet again, following his movements. Getting ready to cook, probably his favorite, Jambalaya. "It's just been a really hard day, Niffty almost got me killed, my boss just dumped a week's extra load onto me which I shall finish in three days, and then on top of this all my stupid fucker of an ex decided to show up at my work." At the last words, just slightly, barely noticeable, the red-haired demon tensed up a bit. "That does seem like a rough day my dear, how about I make you some nice new tea and when I finish cooking you'll get the first plate." Turning to you now, his signature smile was planted on his face, you doubt you ever saw him without one, it can be unsettling at times, but mostly it was fine. Alastor grabbed your teacup, and set up a cattle with fresh water, as he scooped some tea into your cup, all the while starting to prepare to cook. It was calming, he was calming. Despite hearing the others all around the hotel, the jazz music, and the soft sounds of Alastor cooking, you could swear you also heard him hum softly to the music but you didn't dare mention it to him, were drowning everything out.

A hot steaming cup was swiftly set in front of you, the tea a different one now than you had before, but it still gave of a soothing and calming smell. With a thank you, you took a sip of the porcelain cup.

It was quiet in the kitchen for the time being, only the soft music and Alastors cooking, you two were merely enjoying the presence of the other, it was calming your mind and you finally felt your shoulders relaxing. Soon a plate was placed in front of you, it was Jambalaya, which you already ate countless times since staying at the hotel, Alastor loved to make it often. He himself now sitting down beside you at the table with a plate of his own, coat still on the chair, sleeves still pushed to his elbows.

"Thanks!" Thanking him for the plate, you immediately dig in, the taste was amazing like always, Alastor truly is a master at cooking. Soon the others joined in the kitchen, the kitchen was now booming with voices and laughter, but this time it didn't bother you, it was nice to eat all together. Laughing at some joke Angel just made, before talking with Charlie about some idea how to get new guests for the hotel. All the while the eyes of a certain demon were on you.

After the good meal, everyone together started cleaning their dishes, Nifty almost threw her fork at an insect on the floor, but Husker took the fork away before she could accidentally harm someone. In the end, it was just you and Alastor left, as you put away all the clean plates now, Alastor putting his coat back on, as he took his microphone staff.

"So how are you feeling dear? Better now?" Jumping a little bit at how close his voice suddenly was, turning your head just slightly, noticing how Alastor was now standing behind you and leaning over your shoulder. "Y-Yes! Thanks a lot again!" Stepping away from him, he simply watched you with his usual smile. "Splendid! How about you join me for my broadcast?" Eyes going wide now at his offer, he never allowed anyone to join him when he goes on air, hell, if someone were to disturb him they shall never be seen again. So to say you were stunned was an understatement.

"I would love to but.. are you sure?" You often listened to his broadcast when you had time, or sometimes put it on when you go to sleep, but to listen to him live? That would be amazing. "Well of course my dear, if I wasn't sure I wouldn't have offered! Well then! Let's get going!" A big smile was now stretched on his face, as he was leaving the kitchen in tow with you.

Arriving at his radio tower, which you never saw from the inside before, so you're actually a bit hyped to join him. Holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is, you enter and immediately start looking around. Walking over to the big windows, you could see the city below, from up here it looked so small, it was amazing. "Well my dear, do take a seat wherever you like, we're soon going on air." Looking back at Alastor with a smile now as you nod, taking a seat on the couch on the wall. Overall the room wasn't that big, his room, which you saw before a few times, was definitely bigger than this. Leaning against the wall a bit, you wait for Alastor to start his broadcast.

"Salutation hell, good to be back on the air today..." You were listening closely, he was playing some soft music in the background while talking. Slowly the exhaustion from today was creeping on you more with every minute that passed. And before you knew it, your consciousness slipped away intdreamlandnd.

Alastor kept the broadcast going, ending it after a good one or two hours, looking over at you, his dear darling. A smile wide on his face, as he puts everything he used away to his original place. Slow steps were made over to you, as he was shrugging his coat off and laying it over your body carefully. "Sleep well darling, hope you liked my broadcast." A strand was pushed behind your ear, that fell in front of your face.

Turning to the door now, the soft smile he wore for you, slowly turned into a sinister smile. "Now to that ex of yours.." Leaving the room, he closes the door behind him, and let's just say, he had a nice midnight snack this time and your ex to your surprise never showed up at your workplace again.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #x you #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine

[all-pacas]

stupid chase 13 self indulgent sibling shit:

13 is the first one to jokingly refer to chase as her brother. except she calls him her younger brother. chase is like super touched but also hi i'm older than you "sure you are buddy". it's like an ironic "haha we're not actually siblings" joke except secretly no. it's not ironic

13 also has made at least a couple "let's go find dad" jokes about house. she finds it funny and deeply annoying that house and chase don't seem to Get It. it's very obvious to her that chase's deepest dream is for house to pat his shoulder and say "i'm proud my son" but they deny it

at least once 13 has pat chase's shoulder and gone "i'm proud my son"

at least once though. at least one time. "i killed my older brother." "i abandoned my younger sister to rehab." like they know. all their darkest shit. they don't want to be siblings because they did terrible things to their families. but it's why they are

they text. she's constantly sending him photos from her greek island. the food. the beach. look how hot my girlfriend is. he's in the middle of some gross procedure and gets a text of a beautiful sunset. he sends back a photo of a urine sample or some gross wound

when chase quit at the end of s8 and 13 swung by the next episode to talk with wilson the next day? she was staying with chase while she was in town. they mostly just hung out and watched nature documentaries. when wilson called she was like "oh i just happen to be in new jersey, let's meet up" while wearing sweats and sitting on chase's sofa

chase offers to kill her since house is gone and can't. they come up with a rough timeline and plan and then never discuss it again. until it's time.

at least a few dark "oh, shit, i'm wilson now, aren't i?" jokes from her in return. shit, the new house has a dying best friend too! except with so much less sexual tension!! they joke because they can't bring themselves to be serious about it. she tries to set him up with new friends. big advocate for choreman

idk but i get the feeling they'd watch crappy reality tv together.

they'll sometimes just have the darkest and most serious 1 am conversations about morality and souls and what makes a person good or evil, and then the next time they see one another instead of following up it's just "did you see real housewives last night"

chase has never asked 13 for a favor. like he'll ask her little things or let her pay for lunch, but that's about it. meanwhile she can call him at 2 am and he'll show up no questions asked. maybe kind of grumpy about it tho. kind of pisses her off he never lets her return the favor and sort of shut himself off emotionally after s6. but also it's nice? not the "chase's turn towards cynicism" part, but having a standing no questions asked deal.

when he annoys her enough, 13 DOES call chase "robbie" or worse "bobby" but he's never called her by her first name and probably never will

he didn't tell her he got stabbed and she was mad about it because see above. that was a real bobby day

chase knows she doesn't want to fuck around with more huntington's trials but he reads EVERY article and EVERY journal, just in case some miracle comes up. 13 meanwhile follows fake african country politics with a weird intensity to make sure diabla's forces aren't regaining power. they never discuss either thing with one another.

first time 13 visited Chase MD office she forced him to pose in front of the door and took like 15 photos like it was bobby's first day of school. absolutely humiliating

chase goes to 13 and amy's wedding. he's the only one of the PPTH folks who do (taub sends a card. they forgot to tell foreman.)

once 13 was like "we're both hot and single and should do what hot, single people do!" "....have...sex...?" "no, go to a gay bar" they actually go quite a few times

#hate crimes md #robert chase #remy thirteen hadley

[bludermaus]

[BG3 EPILOGUE SPOILERS AHEAD]

I greatly dislike how a Mind Flayer Tav was handled in the epilogue in regards to the Constitution Roll you gotta make to not nom on your friends' brains. I know it's supposed to be the "consequence for giving in to the tadpole" but hear me out

Every single other mind flayer but one in the ending was depicted quite well imo:

1) Karlach is a bit different and philosophical but she's still the same good self that she was, just with the added brain-hunger on top of it. And she made a deal with a hospital to give dying patients a dignified death and in exchange she gets her monthly dinner. Of course, not everybody can die every month but then she can go out on an adventure and kill a bad guy, she has a good deal setup for herself

2) The Emperor, if alive, also is handled quite nicely. If you've stayed human he says he's doing fine, if you're a mind flayer that didn't join him you're invited to come say hi, and if you're on the Knights route then he's warm towards you as his friend and partner (although I wish he'd show up at least on this one specific story branch). The only one he's very cold towards you and kinda sus is the one where a Tavflayer says "we're mind flayers we gotta think bigger", which just shows how much Tav can be a toxic influence to the people they meet

3) Omeluum is our favorite babygirl nothing to complain here

4) Tav is an idiot. According to the lore, mind flayers need to eat brains to function and they gotta do that at least once a month or two months. If they are over indulgers then a brain a week. So at worst Tav has only fed on 3-4 brains (counting Orpheus') before the party, and at best fed on about 24 brains. Either way, what I mean is... Why the constitution roll? Is Tav really that stupid that they haven't eaten for almost two months and then goes to a party full of people??? Tav really is canonically stupid after all????? Emperor moronsexual confirmed???????

Why even have the roll in the first place? Why not have it as a roleplay OPTION to eat the brains? Like, you have the option like I did to roleplay my Paladin Tavflayer as working in the Knights with the Emperor but without being shadowy about it, I had the option to say I was working with him but going on adventures because the shadows do not entice such a moral person... So WHY FORCE THE ROLL? IT'S SO OUT OF CHARACTER

It feels like Larian wanted to appease mind flayer lovers with the epilogue and dialogue, but also the haters with the roll, when it's pretty much inconsistent? Was the roll supposed to be a haha funny joke moment because you get to watch Withers yeet you out?? You can't please everybody in the Fandom, Larian, just make a nice delicious consistent cake and not feed us small slices and crumbles with slight different flavors

Rant done, just a bit upsetti about this in specific

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 the emperor #bg3 spoilers #mind flayer #illithid #illithid tav #bg3 epilogue spoilers

[little-peril-stories]

Blood Garnet - WIP Intro

it's a working title leave me alone

Aka: WIP Wednesday / Vaguely Summarized WIP / I'm Desperately Trying to Get This Dumb Story Out of My System

DISCLAIMER: this stupid story is a silly, self-indulgent mess that would require a lot of hard work to make it, um, fit for human consumption. It was my little brain break between finishing The Queen of Lies and restarting The Court of Rogues. It may not ever get finished. 🤷‍♀️ So, uh, you're forewarned. 😇

OPEN TAG for WIP Wednesday, Vaguely Summarized Plot, or both 😊- there's a lot of nonsense in here so I feel bad subjecting even more people to it 😂

Let's use this cheeky lil post for some recent WIP Wednesday tags: Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks and @sleepywriter00 for the tags! Posts here and here (same post chain).

Rules: Pick a WIP. Post something about it. On a Wednesday. Or whenever! It can be literally anything! 😊 (It does NOT need to be extra as this😅.)

Mood Board

don't anyone say anything about how there isn't a single gemstone on this mood board

What's It About?

Take a drink every time you see an element Kate's used before in other stories. 😅

Evyn, a schoolteacher, impulsively embarks on a journey in an effort to escape the chokehold of her small village, overbearing uncle, and inevitable (and unwanted) fate as someone’s happy little wife. It’s risky, of course: wild animals roam the woods, and she still doesn’t know the source of the mysterious lights that gleam through the darkness at night. However, she gets more than she bargained for—the forest is not what it seems, nor are those mystical yellow lights.

The Fae, creatures of legend, are real.

And they’re coming for her.

Vaguely Summarized Plot

Also using up another tag here! Thank you @mysticstarlightduck for this one! Posts here and here. The tag is kind of perfect for this seeing as I don't know much of the plot myself, so I have no choice but to be vague. :)

Rules: Summarize your WIP in 15 2-5 word bullet points (as if you were trying to summarize it in 15 seconds). (I didn't stick to the limit at all.)

✨ “So the forest's been kind of glowing lately? And no one but me seems to have noticed? Ok. Coolcoolcool.”

✨ “Get married? Me? Never!” Evyn Edition: Simply Not Interested But I Must Be Lying Because All Women Want to Get Married, Amirite?

✨ “Get married? Me? Never!” Jonathan Edition: Very Not Straight But Try Telling That To My Religious Zealot of a Father

✨ Jealous twin will NOT let his sister win control of their clan like she wins everything else, damn it (footnote 1)

✨ Emo loner who can’t go home (on pain of death) just wants these weird dreams about some random-ass human to please STOP (footnote 2)

✨ “I’m going to pursue independence! In another town! On a time crunch! By walking through the woods! At night! I’m a schoolteacher with no survival experience! This Is A Good Idea!”

✨ Grumpy grandma re: pesky human: What is her deal?

✨ “Hello yes hi I’m the emo loner. I’m unrealistically attractive. I saved you for reasons I won’t explain. But also I don’t talk to humans. Or Fae, really. Or. Like. Anyone. Not often anyway. What’s talking again?”

✨ “So, like, you're kind of hot … but you’re, uh, my enemy?? But I haven't figured that out yet?? And also, do we, like, have weird sexual tension, haha, or is it just me? Hahahaha! … But seriously, do we?”

✨ "Hey I know you have breathing issues or whatever, so you don’t like dusty or dirty or humid places, but … wanna take a shortcut through this super duper cool underground cave system?”

✨ “Haha, what? No?! There’s no reason I’m avoiding this area of the forest! Nope! No reason at all!”

✨ YOU get a betrayal! And YOU get a betrayal! And YOU get a—

✨ “Who is the monster and who is the man?” (footnote 3)

✨ This asylum makes the one in TQOL look like a vacation! (footnote 4)

✨ Sexy villainess gets to emotionally torture one MC and then physically torture another. AND psychologically torture them both! Hell, maybe she’ll even kill one of ’em too! Fun for the whole family!

Footnotes

(1) IT’S NOTHING LIKE ZUKO AND AZULA SHUT UP

(2) IT’S NOTHING LIKE RHYSAND AND FEYRE SHUT UP

(3) IT’S NOTHING LIKE QUASIMODO AND FROLLO SHUT—oh who am I kidding 🎶

(4) Technically the whole asylum thing happened in this story first, like, 2 or 3 years ago. That version just lives in a purple notebook that will never be seen by any eyes but mine. So, really, TQOL stole the asylum setting from BG, not the other way around.

Character Vibes

Evyn, human, orphaned as a child and raised by her aunt and uncle. Now a schoolteacher who sees yellow lights no one else can see.

“My heart cannot be captured. I intend to die an old maid, surrounded by papers and books. Good afternoon!”

Jonathan, human. Evyn's cousin, a clerk. Just truckin' on through a life he finds endlessly tedious and unsatisfying.

“Cecil’s a soggy piece of tree bark in a hat,” he said before he could stop himself.

Ah, Jonathan Garnet. A man who gained a single speck of favour with his impossible-to-please father…and promptly hurled it into the wind.

Dharan, Fae. Exiled from his clan years ago for murdering another Fae.

The Fae leapt up, standing straight and bending his knees as if to run—or perhaps pounce. One hand hovered over the stolen knife on his belt; the other, he extended to her.

He looked away from his foe to meet her gaze, uttering a single word:

“Run.”

Rennith, Fae. Heir to his clan but competing for the title against his twin sister.

He was a man, it seemed, but those eyes bespoke something much more ancient—of man, but not man himself. Silver hair, an impossible shade, framed a face sculpted into sharp angles, as cold and pale as if it were made of ice.

A Fae creature forged in primordial fire, carved from gold, silver, and mother-of-pearl.

For the Whump People Here:

Whumpy Things I've Managed to Squeeze into the First 13,000 words

Humiliation/embarrassment (minor)

Hyperventilation, dyspnea

Angst (minor)

Grabbed in the dark

Abducted

Restrained (but make it magic)

Magically forced to obey commands

Chin grab

Whumpy Things I've Got Planned But Haven't Written

Angst (major)

Stabbed

Various fight-related injuries I won't know till I write them

Betrayed by someone you trust

Drugged/knocked out

Humiliation/embarrassment (major)

Imprisoned

Taunted by the antagonist

More magic restraints (but turn it up to eleven)

Tortured (but make it magic)

Desperation, hitting rock bottom

A death fakeout or two or three

If you made it this far, you deserve a medal. 🥇

#lps blood garnet #pls excuse the constant self-deprecation #i love me - i do - but this story is pretty silly 😂 #and i'm ok with that #writeblr #fantasy #mood board #lps mood board #tag game #wip wednesday #wip wednesday tag #vaguely summarized wip #vaguely summarized wip tag #open tag #writeblr open tag #writing #creative writing #wip intro #writeblr community

[beyonsatan]

My next astrology post was gonna be about the chart ruler in astrology but I just saw a tik tok about pisces that received the ugliest laugh from me and so decided that i will be talking about pisces and after closing the casket on a few stereotypes and western astrologers who have absolutely no idea what they're talking about yet charge for readings, I'm gonna hurt some feelings haha 😁...

So let's create a list of the misleading stereotypes that modern astrology have successfully managed to attach to pisces and then i'm going to debunk a few or all in order and I'm going to do this in the most polite way :)

• Ditzy (you might've heard "pisces is debilitated in mercury so it makes sense why pisces aren't the smartest or are 'easily fooled'" WRONGGGGG! In fact, ancient astrologers believed that pisces was in its detriment while in mercury because you can't think properly when you're in love. Venus the planet of love feels the strongest in Pisces, venus is pisces dignified ruler, pisces is the only sign that's dignified in both benefics (Venus, Jupiter) so if you asked me what sign i think is the most in love with love i would say with confidence pisces. This is why often when you hear a pisces talking about something or someone they love they stumble over their words. Contradictory to popular belief, pisces are very intuitive and can spot people trying to take advantage of their giving nature. A person who is intuitive and knows when something is up is not dumb, being both intuitive and gullible is already a contradiction. Saying that a jupiter (planet of wisdom) ruled sign is dumb does not fit the bill or even make sense for that matter. Mercury In sagittarius is debilitated as well but not because sagittarius is stupid, gullible or can't reason but because sagittarius is the jokester and is all about exposing the truth and their delivery is usually harsh which can rub people the wrong way. It's all about the delivery with them, there can be instances of blurting out things at the wrong time, things that would be considered offensive, that doesn't necessarily translate to them being dumb, they're just blunt lol. A good example of this would be nicki minaj

• escapists (the only true one I have actually heard so far but I also think that the stigma around escapism needs be brought to a stop. Pisces is dignified In both benefics so they do not prefer to indulge in things that are meant to discourage them like fear, anger, self doubt and turmoil so in order to keep themselves on their feet they distract themselves with things that are meant to inspire or otherwise entertain them to keep them going. This claim that they get consumed by their fantasies, can't face reality or take decisive action is a myth and stems from this idea that certain aspirations or wish fulfillments are out of reach and too unrealistic to be put into plan. so while everyone else is doing only what's within their reach thinking things can't get any better for them, pisces is dreaming big and this is where people can often confuse delusion with staying optimistic. How wise would it be to call someone "stupid" or "an escapist" because they're choosing to see the bright side of a situation or not succumbing to negative emotions? Not very wise at all right? Out of every zodiac sign I would argue that pisces is the most likely to recover from difficult times Because the benefics always keep them in good spirit

• drug addicts (i just wanna say that if you've ever gotten a paid reading from an astrologer who has said up out their mouth that "pisces is the most suspectible to drug and alcohol abuse," you have been scammed and should request your money back, these astrologers either think that pisces is ruled by neptune or they think having pisces placements is the same as having 12th house placements, ps: it is NOT the same and they CERTAINLY do not make you more artsy, dreamy and whatever other terms ppl use to deem pisces.) the 12th house is where you can see some unhealthy habits and addictions, that is true but once again pisces does not rule over the 12th house nor does pisces get its meaning from this house and anyone that told you otherwise lied 💞

• poor self esteem (I'm not even about to dignify this imbecilic talking point with a lengthy response 💀 if pisces was a sign with poor self esteem, the sign wouldn't be comfortable in the planet that literally rules over our values and self esteem, 'venus' lol)

• compulsively lie ( one more attribute that came from neptune. I'm not gonna say pisces is perfect but alot of these stereotypes aren't really aligning with jupiterian and Venusian energy) you wouldn't lie to a person that you truly love (venus) and you wouldn't be able to easily fool someone who is wise(Jupiter) does that make better sense to yall??) Why do you think it makes sense for a zodiac sign that's notorious for their contempt of lies and deceit(Scorpio) to be compatible with a sign that modern astrology famously dubs as "liars" that doesn't make sense either does it? Of course not, cause it's not true lmao, every sign is capable of lying.

Summary: Once you register through your mind that there is no connection between pisces and neptune in astrology, everything that you've learned about pisces through western astrology and their antics automatically vanishes or becomes null and void. There is (and ima highlight 'no' in bold just so yall know how serious i am) NO reason to believe that the oldest sign of the zodiac on record pisces is gullible, stupid, a liar or any of the things I mentioned in the bulletpoints. The infantalizing of pisces in astrology MUST stop and I will do everything my power to make sure it does and that this knowledge reaches everyone, *mic drop*

that's all, hope thiz helps xx

#astrology #astrotakes #aquarius #aries #cancer #capricorn #gemini #jupiter #jupiter retrograde #leo #taurus #pisces #sun #moon #mercury #venus #mars #saturn #mercury retrograde #venus retrograde #saturn retrograde #astrological #astrology stuff #astro facts #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #pluto astrology

[miss-atena]

This is... Very much self-indulgent and for my own comfort right now. So, excuse anything that may be off, or a bit OOC. TW: Apathy crisis, existential crisis.

Cronus Ampora x Reader - Apathy

Cronus was never the smartest fish in the sea when dealing with people, especially when it is other's feelings. He may seem like the emotional type of guy (he has cried multiple times for human love songs), but dealing with others is way out of his league. He - and the rest of the Beforus trolls for that matter - keep wondering how he managed to actually score one. He was used to shooting his shot at others and missing by well over a mile, so his oh-so-not-smooth flirts actually hitting a soft spot for you made him lose his composure, and get fidgety. An adorable view, truly. Though in past times his bluntness and lack of emotional knowledge never affected you, it seemed as though fate had other plans. Apathy. Something all 13 of you have become used, almost acquaintances to. Sadly, being used does not mean it is easy to deal with. Some of you, like Meulin and Rufioh, have mastered the art of surrounding yourself with others to get better. Latula and Porrim tend to dive into hobbies to lessen the effects. You? Oh... Even after what seemed like thousands of years, it is a mystery what actually helps you. That is why, this time, Cronus went too far for you. It was simple, you were faking till you got better, but he ran his mouth too much. "Heyy~ hot stuff, are ya mad at somefin? Did'ya stub yer toes? Ya so dry it shorelly must'vwe been somefin goin' on." A pause, and an answer "I don't know what you're talking about Cro." "Huh? C'mon, bae~ Lemme guess... Meenah talked shit 'bout yer hair?" "Is... there something with my hair?" "wvah- NONONO! No it, uh, it looks as great as ya! Like alwvays, I just, uh, y'knowv howv she can get, haha!" You knew he was not trying to make you mad, yet... He didn't seem charming when being a dork, this time. Your pause, the look in your void white eyes that stared at his, and your look at the distance. That showed him something really was up. And also that he fucked up big time by running his mouth today. "Hey... Hey, look at me." "What?" "Y'knowv ya can trust me, right? Ya been here for me, wvhat good of a matesprit wvould I be if I didn't do the same?" ... "It's the... the thing, again. This stupid thinkpan of mine can't seem to co-work with my bloodpumper. It's like... Y'know how, like, sometimes the reality hits us? that... that we are gonna be here, forever. We will never grow old, travel the world, or... or have a life, again. We are stuck in the bubbles, and we don't have a future ahead of us anymore. Any... certainty we had once, from the moment our session ended, it will never occur, like, ever again." "Wvoah..." It took a while, the two of you staring at the abyss, on the edge of the dreambubble you two have been sitting on, a special place for you, as this is one of your bubbles. No one said anything. You couldn't feel uncomfortable, at that moment. The lack of emotions took a deep toll on you, but you instinctively looked at Cronus. When he looked at you, however, he didn't seem worried. Or afraid. He took his goofy fake 'human' cigarette put it on the corner of his mouth, and gave you his side grin. Not the smug one, the one he puts whenever he is really confident about what he is going to say. "I mean, ya not wvrong, by any means but... heh... Do ya think it is bad? I mean, hey! Wve are gonna be all here forevwer, so that means wve can at least, like, be together for eternity or wvathevwer. I used to be pretty damn bad wvith these apathy shellnanigans but... I'm not really that afraid anemonemore. I havwe the best fuckin' matesprit in the wvhole 'bubbles and, like, I'm pretty damn shore I can live the rest of a boring eternity if I havwe ya to make it interestin'!" As you two stared to the far, far void of nothing, outside the bubble, you instinctively reached a hand on top of his, which, as always, sent his face into a violet blush mess, and managed to drag a smile and chuckle out of you. "Can't complain with that, really."

#TW: apathy crisis #TW: existential crisis #homestuck #homestuck x reader #cronus ampora #cronus ampora x reader #cronus x reader

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

I see your tags on the Wocky and Alita art, I would love to hear your thoughts on Alita actually!

I only need one person to show interest in what I have to say for me to talk forever and ever, thank you. HAHA Okay, in seriousness, this won't be as thorough/long as the Klavier post because... there really isn't much to her, but I find it extremely interesting how Alita falls into the same category of witnesses as April May and Dahlia without being — and I mean no offence to her when I say this — stunning? Like, with April and Dahlia, there's a very clear mass appeal to them which most people point out. Contrariwise, Alita's appearance is really only commented on by Trucy, and just glancing at her portrait, you can see that, without her slightly outlandish fashion, she's frankly nothing to write home about.

So why am I discussing this? Surely it's a little reductive to analyse female characters beginning with their appearances? Usually, yes, but that's the thing about this category of witnesses: their pretty faces aren't just pretty faces.

For April and Dahlia, their beauty is part of their arsenal. It functions as both their defence and their weapon of choice; they know how to wield it to bring people under their heel. Alita being ordinarily pretty instead of drop-dead gorgeous deprives her of that weapon and leads you to wonder how she became a mafia heiress to begin with. It also parallels her to Mimi Miney in a way that goes beyond the 'murderous nurse who worked for and killed her awful boss' comparison you get on the surface. Presumably, Alita, like Mimi, only got to where she was because she managed to fool the people around her into believing she was less dangerous than she actually is. Mimi did this by feigning stupidity and inviting people to underestimate her. Alita seems to do this by showing them what they want to see.

When she first meets Apollo and Trucy, Alita stays quiet and spends more time listening to them than she does talking. Once she has a hold on who they are, then she slips into her persona, and I find it interesting how she doesn't even attempt to come across as particularly delicate or lovelorn? Instead she goes for the relatively typical role of a distressed, indulgent loved one earnestly entreating Apollo for help. I'm inclined to say she does this because her read on Apollo makes her realise that he'd likely be exasperated or annoyed by such a person; but it's also almost as if she knows she doesn't have the disposition to pull off that frail, damsel-in-distress archetype and has resigned herself to being ordinary. Like how she looks. The next time she has to reapply her persona, Alita's appearing in court, and again she makes subtle adjustments that best suit her situation. The judge is old, so she takes a chance on expressing her dedication as a wife while balancing her dedication as a righteous citizen, which works. But oddly enough, despite her successes, I don't think Alita is actually good? At donning disguises? Everyone I've seen discuss this case has been able to guess almost immediately that she's the culprit, and maybe we're just prepped by past characters like her that have appeared, but I don't think she's even that convincing in the game.

Both the identities she assumes are risky manoeuvres that happen to fall in her favour, and she's not particularly dedicated to maintaining the front. When she asks Apollo to be Wocky's defence, she admits that marrying him is largely a chance at a more exciting life than some great love story; Plum Kitaki straight up says that there's a darkness in Alita she doesn't like, despite how docile Alita behaves in front of her; and Wocky has moments where he slips up and calls her things like, "imposter" and "fallen angel", implying that at least subconsciously, he knows she's not what she makes herself out to be. Even her general mannerisms don't greatly differ between her actual self and the mask who's blunt her claws — nothing is ever overtly coy or cutesy — and when Apollo brings up the fact she was Wocky's nurse, she drops the facade almost immediately. There's no waffling, no, "Whatever do you mean?"s or, "You're scaring me"s, just the statement, "I don't know what you mean by 'meaning', Mr. Justice!" delivered in a sudden cool, frosted steeliness.

And I think that steel is what really makes her different.

See, the other women are all driven to crime by some defining trait in themselves caused by their circumstances. For Dahlia, it's her desperate need to be free of the Fey clan; for Mimi, it's grief over her sister's unjust death; and for April, it's her fear of Redd White. You don't really get that with Alita. Instead of there being something dark in her life that leads her down this path, she just seems... tired. Tired of being "pretty enough" but not "gorgeous", tired of being the obedient nurse to the corrupt doctor, tired of being ordinary. There's no predatory external force pushing her into a corner, there's no abusive family beliefs pinning her down. There's just an ordinary life, lived dull and ordinarily, and she had had enough. So what does this girl, who's tired and ordinary in every way except the steel that lines her spine, do to get out of this?

She gambles.

Marrying into the mafia was a gamble, seeking Apollo as council was a gamble, shooting Dr. Meraktis was a gamble. Every decision she's made since she met Wocky has been a series of high-stakes gambles that leave her life on the line all so she won't be second-best anymore. This time, she was going to be the one on top. No matter what.

... And I'm sorry for loving evil women, but girlboss?? Girlboss???

I've heard people say they're disappointed that her "breakdown" is just an extension of her usual damage sprite, but it's honestly one of my favourite "breakdowns" in the series ever? Just because it isn't really one? Everything Alita has done up till now has been reckless, calculated risk, of course being convicted for murder is no different than losing in any other aspect of her life. Of course you're not going to get more than her damaged sprite, because this doesn't warrant a more dramatic reaction. She's lived this whole time knowing it could all come crashing down around her, and it finally did.

She made a bad bet. You caught her. Oh well.

The frosted girl of steel, standing tall to the very end. It's kind of sad that, even after all that, she's still seen as only second-best, incomparable to mimi, dahlia or any of the other women who've stood in her place.

#alita tiala #ace attorney apollo justice #my inability to shut up has made me liar again 😔 it's not thorough but it is long. #i know it's weird that me saying she's more than what she seems is essentially me pointing out how flat she is compared to everyone else #(no tragic backstory or deeper hidden motive) #but i cant help it!! i think the evilness is sexy!!! like people love to make dahlia out as this heartless bitch but she's really not. #she's traumatised and lashing out. but alita? alita with her nerves of steel boredom with her ordinary life and raw selfishness pushing her #to take more and more and more??? alita is your girl for that. im sorry for loving evil women but god. she makes me so giddy. the lengths #she's willing to go to just to stand above everyone for once in her life is so... god!!!!!! im sorry. she makes my heart flutter. #kristoph wishes he had half her resolve and idgaf attitude #asks for the notebook #thank you for the ask omg. i forgot to say that. it was so much fun to answer and i hope you got something out of it 💗♥️💖💘💓💞💕💝💓💗💖

[ryuichirou]

Hello!! I'm too shy to send you this out of anon, but I wanted to let you know how much I admire you. I'm a TWST artist myself, and I like certain problematic tropes and pairings. I also want to draw nsfw of my favorite ships, but I'm too afraid of doing it. The anti movement in fandoms is too overwhelming and I'm scared of people going after me. I don't mind kids yelling at me for drawing teens doing what most teens do nowadays (like sex) but everything has escalated so far that people are willing to doxx you and ruin your life over what you ship or draw, and that's what I'm scared of. I know that you probably get nasty messages and people bothering you, but seeing you and Katsu continue creating regardless of what people might say gives me encouragement to post whatever I want. And you seem to be a sunshine of a person, not to mention that your art is amazing. I wish I could post daily as you but sometimes I'm a little bit lazy and I yet need more confidence even if I've been drawing since I was a teen. Anyways, sorry if this got longer, but thank you for contributing amazing art to the TWST fandom. (I'm also into Hetalia and SnK!!! Seeing that you like DenNor made my day haha)

Sending you and Katsu my best regards!

First of all, thank you so much for your support and for your kindness, Anon. And thank you for messaging us at all about this topic, even if anonymously. I think this is a very important thing to talk about, and your message honestly made us kind of emotional. It was a bad idea to read it before going to bed lol

Just like you said, the anti movement is honestly psychotic. I feel like a lot of people who participate in it simply don’t realise the weight of their actions and words, which make sense, because the majority of them are very young; and the ones that are adults are usually quite deranged and dangerous. It’s not rare for their actions to lead to horrible consequences, but I guess this is nothing new. It used to be overbearing conservative parents, now it’s some kids with too much free time. That being said, these days we see more and more people who ignore, criticize or ridicule the antis for their hypocrisy, and this is very nice to see.

We really do get quite a lot of hate, but honestly, we used to get even more stupid comments, even though we haven’t been hated with such passion before. But still, the support we’re getting now is also much more impactful and vocal than what we used to get. There also are people who aren’t even into our ships, but would defend us just because of what this whole thing represents: their own right to do whatever they want when it comes to fiction.

Our personal thing is that we’re just way too spoiled and self-indulgent with stuff that we like. Even if it meant that we’d never get hate, we would be miserable if we had to restrict ourselves for the sake of others; and I know that because we tried. So the worst thing that could happen is that we’ll stop posting, but we’ll still continue creating, because it gives us too much joy to give it up just because someone has no friends at school and wants to impress other antis with their sick (moronic) post when they completely miss the point of our content and ignore our 18+ warnings.

So yeah, I hope you’ll remember what you love about drawing and keep doing whatever you want, even if you don’t post it. But I also think that, if you’re comfortable at any point, you should also post it. You can create an account with no link to your regular acc and your personal info whatsoever and post whatever you want there. You could still get hate, but at least it will be safer and without any high stakes, although I understand you might feel fear because people could recognise your artstyle and connect the dots.

Also preventive bans work wonderfully. If we stumble upon a post that has certain aggressive messages (you know the ones), we simply block everyone who interacted with that post. It takes time, but it’s worth it, I think. Hell, people use “call-out” (because there is nothing to call out, we’ve stated everything plainly ourselves) posts with us to block people.

Also also, ironically, ignoring the hate also kind of helps… I know it’s easy to say, and it’s not a 100% guarantee, but we just think that people are more prone to attacking you if you react to hate in any way. So the best thing is literally to just block and delete it. Oh, and always report it if it gets aggressive – this could do nothing, but it could also bitchslap them out of nowhere lol

Anyways… I am very grateful and glad if we could give you any type of reassurance and comfort with our posts. I hope to see your stuff one day, and I hope there’ll be more people who post whatever they want, so fandoms can become healthier again.

And I’m very happy you like Hetalia and SnK too, especially DenNor! <3

Thank you again from both of us, and I hope you’re having a good day.

#replies

[nerves-nebula]

I know this might be kinda stupid but. do you have any music recs. specifically of the child abuse variety because I'd be very interested in that.

*sweats* ok so here's the thing- I have a playlist called "Abuse" and its full of music that is either explicitly about abuse, related to abuse thematically, or just has Abuse Vibes to me (some of which is likely inexplicable to other people)

im also kind of self conscious about my taste in music, cause sometimes it's like. i dunno. the steven universe soundtrack or a fnaf song i really like. and thats CRINGE! and really any genre of song can be about Child Abuse so it's like. idk if you'll like any of the things i recommend.

THAT BEING SAID, here's a selection i guess!! because I'm flattered you would even ask haha. a lot of these are pretty well known already tho so idk how helpful this will be. anyway this got hella long so. under the cut!

songs explicitly about or including themes of child abuse/having shit parents/having familial issues:

Guiltless by Dodie

Black by Okkervil River (narrative about a guys girlfriend telling him about her dad sexually abusing her. one of, if not the first, song i ever heard about CSA and it holds a special place in my heart)

The Mute by Radical Face

Ripple Effect by Scott Helman (kinda more about generational trauma & healing if im honest. i dont listen to it as much as the others on this list)

Poplar St by Glass Animals

Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood

Twin Sized Mattress by The Front Bottoms (classic i know)

The Family Jewels by Marina and the diamonds

Family Line by Conan Gray

Christmas Kids by ROAR (ok technically not about the kids but i find the subtext of how the kids are used in this abusive relationship horrific. also, it reminds me of my parents)

Drift Away - Steven Universe (OK I KNOW ITS NOT TECHNICALLY ABOUT THAT BUT TO ME IT'S ABOUT MY MOM. IT TRACKS TOO EXACTLY TO NOT INCLUDE HERE)

Other Abuse songs:

labour by Paris Paloma

This Hurts by Mindless Self Indulgence (my ex wife says i listen to this song to go joker mode and i hate that because i know she means Straight Joker and not Camp Joker but i do really like the song)

I'm your puppet by Gregory And The Hawk

Eric by Mitski (REAL GOOD)

Believe Me by James and the Shame (more about spiritual abuse sort of)

Girl Anachronism by The Dresden Dolls

Thermodynamic Lawyer esq GFD by Will Wood and the Tapeworms

We'll Never Have Sex by Leith Ross (less about abuse and more about, like, a healing relationship. still i think you can easily read into the alluded past abuse or sexual issues going here)

Fuck About It by Waterparks

Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want by The Smiths (this is just such an abused person song)

This Hurts by Mindless Self Indulgence (my ex wife says i listen to this song to go joker mode and i hate that because i know she means Straight Joker and not Camp Joker but i do really like the song)

Sex With A Ghost by Teddy Hyde

I Cant Handle Change by ROAR (obviously)

rotting by vivivivivi

rook by sardonica

My favorite "Abuse Vibe" songs (NOTE: some of these songs might be about abuse or toxic relationships but um. im not very smart or good at sorting so. they ended up here):

Take a Slice by Glass Animals (PLEASE LISTEN TO THIS ONE FUCK THE REST OF THIS LIST EXCEPT ANIMALS I LOVE THOSE TWO)

Animals by Stomach Book (SEE ABOVE)

Youth by Daughter

Duck Or Ape by ROAR

Million Dollar Gold Digger (idk what it is about this remix im not even a huge fan of either of the songs its mixing. this is the VIBES part of the rec list i don't have to explain myself)

I'll Be Good by Jaymes Young

Gooey by Glass Animals

Breaking Down by Florence & The Machine

Moby Dick by Jakey

Aurora Borealis by Lemon Demon (hard to justify but this song just brings such vivid "abused kid failing to be normal while hanging out with someone and further isolating themself" vibe. yes im projecting. leave me alone)

The Dismemberment Song by Blue Kid (sometimes you just wanna kill your parents)

I'M GONNA WIN by Rob Cantor (this one just feels like anger and bitterness and being suspicious of anyone who tries to help you. I listen to it when im fucking going through it. its also a bop but you prolly already know that, i think it's pretty popular? idk)

It's Alright by Mother Mother (stereotypical i know)

South Dakota by Jakey (honestly i dunno. i dont even know where south dakota is)

My Blood by Twenty One Pilots (for all you sibling havers out there)

My Play by AJR (my parents arent divorced but man i wish they were. Also, this just brings up very vivid memories for me trying to show my parents things and it is fucking crushing haha)

Best Of You by Foo Fighters (idk just more shit that reminds me of my parents)

The Woods by San Fermin (this one is just very "I should have died as a child"-core to me)

JUVY ft. Julia Bard by Nnamdi Ogbonnaya (this guy is weird and i didnt like his stuff at first but then... i came back... and now he holds a place in my heart)

Grape Gil by Nnamdi Ogbonaya (i think this is my favorite song of his. I nearly made an owl house animatic to it)

Obsession by OK GO

Better Than Me by The Brobecks

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS by Tyler The Creator

Dumb Dumb by Mazie (honestly this one just reminds me of thinking "i hate it here everyone is so dumb" and then maladaptive daydreaming for hours to escape the situation hah)

Stone Wall, Stone Fence by Gregory And The Hawk

Never Wanna Fall in Love With U by Nelward

Another New World by Punch Brothers (this one is such an explicit and straightforward narrative i really can't explain it other than like. the emotions.)

Julep by Punch Brothers (once again, the emotions)

Always Sayin' by The Littles Man Band

A NIGHT OUT ON EARTH by Waterparks

Consequences by Lovejoy

Scum by Lovejoy

SMELLS LIKE TEEN SECRETS by lil boodang (another hard to justify one. idk. it just feels like it ok. sue me)

anyway i'm sure there's more but thats just a quick selection from my Abuse playlist. and by quick i mean you better appreciate this cuz i put way more effort into this than i needed to.

#nnstuff #ask #music

[luckiestb]

Luckiest on Earth- Doomslayer x reader

This is my first official fanfiction, so please excuse me for any bad writing or canon divergence. I’ll try to be as gender neutral as possible, but reader is implied to be feminine (and British). This is very self-indulgent for me, haha!

Chapter One: Adapt to survive.

(WARNINGS: Canon typical violence and gore, angst, this chapter acts as a prologue)

The sky was the first thing that indicated the apocalypse. It had turned a deep ruby red over the course of twenty minutes— half an hour, maybe. You remember glancing out of the window at your job, startled by the colour. You had asked your coworkers what was happening, and their guess was as good as yours. You had checked the news, and it was deemed a ‘weather phenomenon’.

‘Weather phenomenon’ your ass. About five minutes before the carnage (the ‘beginning of the end’ is what you named it), every device possible blared with that unsettling government warning, robotic voices demanding you get somewhere safe and await further instruction.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

You had turned to your coworker, a woman with chestnut hair who had only just came back from maternity leave, a look of concern etching itself on your face before the attacks began, the programmed message shooting a chill into your very soul.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

Those stupid grating voices still haunt your dreams. They kept playing the same loop, over and over and over as they were soon overlaid by the sounds of screaming. The screaming of people you knew, people you had grown to form connections with and cared about.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

Ugly creatures with even uglier souls had escaped onto Earth; an unquenchable, sadistic thirst for pain driving them to kill all those you loved and turn your entire life onto its head. You only barely managed to escape, thanking your lucky stars that you had the strength and courage to kill an imp that blocked your path. Unfortunately, it had burned the entirety of your calf in the struggle— but adrenaline was your friend, and you were able to ignore the pain for the meantime as you tried to find a place to hide from the monsters that were slaughtering masses of the human race by the second.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

Red. It was all you could see: in the sky, only interrupted by the terrifying blotches of unholy flesh flying across it; on the roads, in puddles sizzling as the rising heat met the blood shed; splattered up against the walls, being all that remains of the people in your sleepy town; and in their eyes, the eyes of those demons. You needed to find somewhere to hide, and fast. ‘If you don’t, they’ll get you. They’ll get you and tear you to shreds.’ You can hear the voice in your head screaming, your entire body set into overdrive.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

Home. You needed home. Your legs were already sprinting through the streets towards your house, swerving and dodging the gorefest. You didn’t pay attention to anything other than your yearning for home: didn’t pay attention to the screeching pain in your calf or the dying screams of the town. You tried not to pay attention to the alert message, drilling over and over into your head. If you had, you wouldn’t have made it home. You slammed the door open, grateful that it was located on the outskirts of town, giving you at least some time to prepare whilst the demonic invasion feasted on the busy centre.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

You grabbed a bag, the biggest backpack you owned, and filled it with essentials. Warm clothes, a torch with some batteries, a filled water bottle that might last you a day or two if you rationed, basic hygiene products, basic medicine such as painkillers and bandages… You lost track, losing yourself to instinct in order to avoid emotionally confronting this dreadful afternoon.

WARNING: EXTREME THREAT TO LIFE IN THE AREA, SEEK SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. DO NOT LEAVE AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTION.

You tried to tend to your leg, but your lack of experience meant you could do no more than wrapping up the forming blisters on red raw skin in bandages. ‘It will have to do-‘ you told yourself before a loud crash made you leap to your feet.

Wait. This isn’t how it happened.

You felt confusion and fear rise within you like bile as a horde of demons swarmed into your room. This wasn’t how it happened. This isn’t how your memory recalls it. They were upon you in seconds, tearing almost greedily at your flesh to watch the fountain of blood come forth. It wasn’t long until everything was red—

Red. Red, red, red— red red red—

And then you woke up. Your heart thumped against your ribs with the tangible fear from your trauma-induced nightmare. Sweat dripped down your grubby face as your picked up your small handgun and checked the perimeter of the room you had holed up in— twice, just to be sure that it was truly just a dream. As your logical mind insisted, there was nothing there: no demons and no carcasses, just a room.

You had been camped there for a few days, seeing as it was the first place you could truly rest at in weeks. Or maybe it was months, your grasp on time hadn’t been a priority since the beginning of the end. Your phone was long dead, stowed away in your bag alongside the charger, serving as your only motivator that you could maybe return to some normality and finally charge it.

You realised with a still jittery heart that it was time you move on. You needed to find one of the hidden ARC communes so you could finally be safe. You had heard of them, but you hadn’t exactly found another living human to get directions.

You mused on it as you packed your things, wondering how you’d react once you made contact again. Would you laugh? Cry? Instantly fall in love with whoever you find, no matter what state they’re in? You had been desperately lonely over the past few years as the apocalypse raged on: you had even tried to befriend a wandering zombie you had captured, until it had slashed you across your chest. You used the expansive scar to remind yourself that Hell’s children could not be reasoned with, no matter how kind you were to them.

You drained the room of any supplies you could: you broke up and wooden furniture for fuel and brazenly emptied every draw of any food or beverage you could (thank god one of the office workers had a stash of sweet treats). You finally began to move the desk you had propped against the door, mentally preparing yourself for the navigation through the unstable office building to continue your journey.

You huffed to yourself,

“Imagine how happy you’ll be once you can finally feel human touch again..”

The reminder stuck to the back of your mind, a consistent boost of morale as you slunk out into the dark, demon-infested world.

#doom slayer #doom slayer x reader #doomguy #doomguy x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #doom eternal #first fic #x reader #romance #post apocalyptic

[happi-tree]

don't kiss and tell

“Can you get off me, please?” Lincoln deadpans instead, jostling Taylor on his back a bit. “Wanna stand up.”

“Hmmmmm, on one condition,” Taylor muses slyly. His jet black hair gleams with sweat under the scattered fluorescents, and stray strands tickle the side of Lincoln’s neck as Taylor leans in even closer. 

“Remove my makeup for me?” He shakes the package of makeup wipes for emphasis, and Lincoln glances over his shoulder to see Taylor’s trademarked doe-eyed look, complete with batting lashes and pouting lips. 

Or: After a long, tiring concert set, Lincoln helps Taylor backstage. One thing leads to another, and he gets a little more than he bargained for.

ao3

Hi, guys! Guess who's back with one more Swiftli fic to finish off 2023! I've had this idea kicking around in my docs (and my wip posts lmao) since July and figured it was high time to polish it up haha. Enjoy some very, very self-indulgent idol au Swiftlis below the cut!

“Liiiiiiincoln,” A familiar voice whines behind him.

Lincoln hums questioningly without turning around - he’s a bit preoccupied with tidying up their group’s shared dressing room. 

Sure, they’ll be performing their set here tomorrow night as well, but it never hurts to make sure everything is in its place so he can at least attempt at mitigating the chaos that is bound to unfold. That, and he doesn’t want to cause the staff any excess trouble.

“Liiiiiiiink,” Taylor prods again, and Lincoln can hear the exaggerated dragging steps his groupmate is taking toward him. “I’m all sweaty and you’re all sweaty and I will not hesitate to lean on you if you don’t pay attention to me.”

“Do, it, then,” Lincoln mutters, slightly hunched over to fluff up the throw pillows on the couch and inspect it to make sure nobody’s spilled their half-caff coffee (Normal) or energy drink (Scary) or needlessly complicated boba order (Taylor) or sports drink (himself). “Busy.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Taylor says, draping himself across Lincoln’s back like an overgrown cat, hands hanging limply over Lincoln’s shoulders. In his peripheral vision, Lincoln notes that one’s holding a container of makeup wipes. “You’re so grumpy when you’re exhausted nowadays! Seems like a certain someone’s rubbing off on you.”

“Or, you know, using my back as a chaise lounge.”

“Well, I had been referring to Scary, but you’re not wrong!” He crows, stretching a little as if to emphasize all the points where their bodies make contact. 

(It’s uncomfortably warm and a little gross with all the sweat from their concert, and it’s a lot less bothersome than Lincoln would like to admit. Even in the afterglow of a performance in the earliest hours of the morning, voice hoarse and body crashing from all the adrenaline and mind dimmed with the promise of late-night room service and sleep, Taylor still has a way of making things a bit more bearable. Even when he’s acting anything but.)

A grimy finger pokes him lightly in the cheek, breaking Lincoln from his thoughts. He rolls his eyes and makes to fold the little blankets the staff had set out for them. 

“You’re so cute with your brows all furrowed like that,” Taylor teases. “Li-Wilson, our very own pretty boy, all angry and frowny. What would the press say?”

There’s a very, very stupid fluttering that happens in Lincoln’s chest whenever Taylor strings his name together with words like “cute” or “pretty” or “handsome”. And it happens annoyingly often, considering how much the four of them will play up their affections for their fans. Lincoln knows it’s not untrue - the internet surely agrees with what Taylor’s saying, if the endless amounts of comments he probably shouldn’t get sucked into reading are anything to go by - but sometimes… he still wonders if it’s all in his head, the way Taylor drops flirtations like he means them.

That’s a thought for later, though, when he’s in their shared hotel room fighting off the wonderful combination of jet lag and insomnia.

“Can you get off me, please?” Lincoln deadpans instead, jostling Taylor on his back a bit. “Wanna stand up.”

“Hmmmmm, on one condition,” Taylor muses slyly. His jet black hair gleams with sweat under the scattered fluorescents, and stray strands tickle the side of Lincoln’s neck as Taylor leans in even closer. 

“Remove my makeup for me?” He shakes the package of makeup wipes for emphasis, and Lincoln glances over his shoulder to see Taylor’s trademarked doe-eyed look, complete with batting lashes and pouting lips. 

“Cute,” Lincoln says out loud, because he calls Taylor that all the time in public, and he has no reason not to voice it now. Unlike the countless interviews and livestreams they’ve done together, though, he has the pleasure of watching red crawl its way across Taylor’s cheeks, which only further proves his point. 

“B-be that as it may, I have you effectively trapped until you do my bidding, you tall, unfairly handsome boy.”

Lincoln is so fortunate that he doesn’t blush easily, a fact which annoys both Taylor and the rest of their group. 

“Why can’t you remove your own makeup, huh?” Lincoln complains halfheartedly even as he takes the wipes offered to him and Taylor wriggles happily in celebration.

“Don’t have any mirrors,” He argues (which is clearly a lie - there are no less than eight in this room alone in case of last-minute touch-ups, not counting their phones), “and I’m so tired I can barely stand!”

“Oh, are your legs acting up? I can carry you if you want,” Lincoln replies, all pretense of grouchiness forgotten as he carefully straightens up, making sure that Taylor can still lean on him without throwing him off-balance.

“I mean, I’m probably fine. Just a little shaky, is all.” Taylor laughs a little, a short, breathy, half-nervous sound that Lincoln feels against the back of his outrageously complicated blouse. 

“You sure?” Lincoln asks, shooting Taylor a look of his own - his “princely protector” look, as he’s seen their fans call it - and Taylor’s expression softens a bit before breaking into a teasing smirk. 

“I mean… I am pretty tired, if you’re still offering, and I’d hate for those strong arms of yours to go to waste -”

“Alright, then, just let me…” Despite the awful clinging feeling of his sweaty clothes and the daunting task of even a little bit of physical exertion, Lincoln can’t help but grin as he rearranges their limbs to lift Taylor. It’s a familiar practice, borne from their years as training partners before they ever made their debut alongside Scary and Normal, and one Lincoln can find himself enjoying even in his drained, slightly sluggish state.

(It’s hard not to enjoy the feeling of Taylor in his arms, even if it’s just for a little bit.)

“Up we go!” Lincoln says, scooping him up into a bridal carry and spinning the two of them in a lazy circle. Like the many times they’ve done this, Taylor slings his arms around Lincoln’s neck and laughs, joyful and unrestrained and slightly hoarse from a night of singing. Like the many times they’ve done this, Lincoln wishes that he could bottle the sound, hollow out a hole in his heart and place that in it. 

(Like the many times they’ve done this, he wishes he could stop going a little braindead every time Taylor’s hot breath fans against the side of his neck.)

“O-okay,” Lincoln announces, hoping the stutter in his voice can be passed off as some sort of vocal strain. “Where do you wanna be?”

“There!” Taylor shifts in Lincoln’s grip, pointing to a black leather swivel chair in the corner of the room, tucked away behind some sort of support column. 

“Alright,” Lincoln says, swooping over and then allowing Taylor to carefully extricate himself from Lincoln’s torso. 

As gross as they both are right now, Lincoln finds himself missing the contact. 

He has a job to do, though.

Lincoln kneels down on the worn, carpeted floor before Taylor, trying not to think about how his body aches, grabs a makeup wipe from the pack, and assesses the boy before him. 

Taylor sits still and pretty - the distinct lack of fidgeting is a sure sign of how absolutely exhausted he is. His face shimmers from a combination of sweat and the glittery pink-peach pastes his makeup artists use to draw attention to his eyes. Thin, smoky eyeliner swoops from the outer corners of his eyes, a burgundy so dark it’s nearly black. The heavy blush that was placed on the apples of his cheeks has faded to a mere suggestion now, but Taylor’s lips are still stained a deep cherry-plum, the corners defined with small strokes in a way that makes his smile appear more cat-like, somehow. 

The stylists did a very good job with him, Lincoln thinks.

Lincoln makes slow, gentle work of removing every last bit of makeup from Taylor’s face, stroking with just the barest of pressure across his forehead, vaguely registering the way that the fibers stain with shades of peach and beige and concentrating on unearthing the soft skin beneath. 

With every swipe of his hand, Lincoln can feel Taylor’s eyes on him, slightly glazed over and staring shamelessly. Lincoln doesn’t blame him for spacing out this late at night, and if Taylor’s not spacing out, if he’s looking at Lincoln just to drink him in amidst the peace that comes after a long night of song after song - well. Lincoln would be lying if he said he wasn’t using this as an excuse to look at him, take in and admire each and every one of his features as if he hasn’t committed them to memory a hundred times over. Map out the slight dip of his temple with his fingers, trace the curve of his cheek, stare right back into those dark, faraway eyes while removing his eyeliner and risk falling into them…

“Close your eyes,” Lincoln prompts, and that temptation is removed as Taylor’s eyelids flutter shut, obedient. Somehow, it doesn’t help with the lump of emotion building like phlegm in the back of his throat. 

Lincoln isn’t good with words, not the way Scary is, with her effortless lyricism and smooth-sounding syllables, phrases that bludgeon with the force of a sledgehammer or pierce through with the precision of a surgeon’s knife, depending on what is needed most.

But when Lincoln looks at Taylor like this, sometimes he finds himself wanting to be. He wants to write out everything trapped somewhere between his ribcage and his mouth, press the stain of it all into hotel memo pads, onto crumpled-up napkins from restaurants in cities he’ll never see again, tuck them into his pockets and let his chicken-scrawl attempts weigh him down twice as heavily as before. 

He’s tried, before, tried so many times, but they never come out quite right, toeing the line between being trite and far too strange. 

There’s just this… undeniable gravity about Taylor that defies any description. He’s got this magnetism to him, and they’ve been circling each other like opposing poles, like binary stars, ever since their first near-collision. His presence is real, undeniable - and not just onstage, where every staccato sound tumbles past Taylor’s lips with the strength and grace of a percussive rainfall, where every eye is drawn to him. 

Taylor is far more than that.

It’s in moments like this where Lincoln feels his pull the strongest, when the lights fade and the curtain drops and Taylor’s features are softened by the encroaching shadows yet still radiant from the high of their performance. When Taylor’s taken out his fancy lenses and Lincoln can see the onyx depths of his eyes, dare to lean closer to see if he can map out the place where his irises meet his pupils in the lowlight, all framed by dark, short lashes. When he presses a hand to Taylor’s cheek and strokes gently, watches as the sweat and foundation and blush give way to olive skin, wishes that the makeup wipe wasn’t in the way and he could hold Taylor like this for real, whenever he wanted. When he finds a clean section of chemical-soaked cloth and carefully touches it to Taylor’s lips, when he hears the way Taylor’s breath hitches near-imperceptibly in the quiet of this tucked away green room in this two-night town. 

“Does it sting?” Lincoln hears himself ask, searching his face for any discomfort. After so much silence, the question sounds louder than when their voices echoed off the stage, more amplified than any microphone could ever make it.

“N-nope,” Taylor rasps, and Lincoln knows it’s probably just rough from overuse but maybe there’s also something more. “Keep - keep going.”

“Okay,” Lincoln says, leaning in a little closer (he has to make sure he gets everything). “Let me know if it hurts?”

“Mm.”

Lincoln sets aside the makeup wipe, grabs a fresh one, and focuses on removing Taylor’s lipstick. 

Taylor has very nice lips. Like, objectively. They’re a little on the thinner side, but his cupid’s bow forms a heart shape and the edges turn up naturally at the corners in a way that makes him look perpetually mischievous.

As Lincoln gently swipes away at the lip liner, he thinks (not for the first time) about what it would be like to kiss him.

Taylor’s kissed Lincoln before - on his forehead, on his shoulders, on his cheek. Lincoln has kissed Taylor before, too - the crown of his head, his temple, and on one memorable occasion, the corner of his mouth. It’s practically to be expected at this point. He’s kissed Normal and Scary, too, and they’ve kissed him, but with them, it’s something easy, rote, platonic, entirely performative.

Kissing Taylor has always felt different. Maybe it’s because the soft press of Taylor’s lips against his skin always leaves him with some sort of endless pit in his chest, something that threatens to consume him whenever he meets Taylor’s black-hole eyes.

And it drives Lincoln absolutely crazy, the way he constantly finds himself wanting more - wanting to know the way that their mouths might slot together, to see if Taylor’s lips are as soft against his own as they feel against the back of his hand. 

Lincoln presses the wipe to Taylor’s top lip, runs his cloth-covered finger over the divot of his cupid’s bow, and fails to stop thinking about the way his groupmate might taste - fails to stop thinking about kissing the boy in front of him until they’re both rendered completely breathless. 

Taylor’s breath stutters, and Lincoln can feel the fluttery inhale-exhale against his face, and he glances upward to see Taylor’s eyes open, now, free of shadows and glitter. His gaze darts lazily between Lincoln’s eyes and his mouth.

Taylor can read Lincoln’s expressions like a favorite book. It’s only natural, having lived and worked in close quarters for the past five years together. He knows the way the light glances off Lincoln’s eyes when his mind is elsewhere, knows his fake smiles from his genuine ones, knows the way his eyes crinkle at the corners whenever he’s truly, exuberantly happy.

Taylor knows exactly what Lincoln’s thinking right now. 

And for the same reason, Lincoln recognizes the look in Taylor’s eyes for exactly what it is. 

Tiredness. Longing. Affection. Want. 

It would be easy, so easy to lean in those final few inches, to close the distance between him the way that he’s wanted to for years, the way they’ve both wanted to. But what they desire and what they can let themselves have - those have always been two very different things. 

But it’s late, and most of the staff have cleared out, and Normal and Scary are probably hanging out on the empty stage like usual. Even so, there’s always a chance -

Lincoln’s eyes flick toward the ceiling.

“There’s one camera on the other side of the pillar,” Taylor says, and Lincoln’s eyes snap back to him immediately. A suggestion of a smirk plays at Taylor’s lips.

“Did you…” Taylor’s smile grows, something secretive and almost shy. Predictably, Lincoln’s gaze follows the curve of his lips as he trails off.

“You’ve been staring a lot tonight,” Taylor teases, and god, Lincoln can’t take the low, lilting timbre of his voice right now, not when he’s close enough to feel his breath against his face, not with flashes of berry-stained lips and white teeth taking up so much of his vision. “Do you wanna -”

“Yes,” Lincoln cuts him off, sounding much more desperate than he intended.

With no foundation left to hide it, Taylor’s face colors bright red remarkably quickly.

Lincoln swallows down the embarrassment, and Taylor’s eyes track the constriction of his throat.

He drops the makeup wipe, absentmindedly brushing his hand on his trousers, letting it hang in the empty space between them.

There’s not much of it left. Lincoln can feel the last of his resolve crumbling in the wake of Taylor voicing the truth that’s lived trapped in their lungs for years on end. His heartbeat, previously sluggish with the promise of rest, pounds faster in his chest, a marcato drumbeat that seems to chant almost, almost, almost.

Lincoln has lived through years of almosts, sustaining himself on the briefest of intimacies that they allow themselves, and everything he longs for is right in front of him, coalesced into the shape of his closest friend. 

Lincoln is tired of almosts. He wants a finally. 

But he’ll reach out and take it only if Taylor wants it, too. 

“Are… you okay with this?” Link asks, the question barely a murmur, because even though the answer is spelled out in the way Taylor’s hands are shaking in anticipation, he needs to make sure before their closeness becomes something more.

“Yeah,” Taylor breathes, a whispery sigh of an admission, and Lincoln’s heart jolts in his chest as Taylor reaches out to cradle the curve of his jaw, to drag him in further. “Yes. Please.”

And it is with that last murmured plea that Lincoln feels his resolve break. He shifts upward, inward, bracing his hands on the armrests of the makeup chair (he doesn’t trust his own legs to stay steady even as they kneel before him, and like hell is he going to let that ruin the moment he’s been dreaming of for years), and Taylor’s hand curls even more perfectly around his jaw, and finally, they meet in the middle.

Kissing Taylor is both nothing and everything like Lincoln had imagined.

Everything, because the feeling of Taylor smiling slightly against his lips, the subtle warmth of his mouth, the supple, pliant give as Taylor slots their lips together, is almost exactly as he had dreamed.

Nothing, because Taylor kisses him sweetly, gently, slowly, more kindly than Lincoln had ever thought possible.

Taylor has always been insatiable. Lincoln knew this from the moment he first laid eyes on him, from the moment he had bound up to him. He had been newly seventeen and starry-eyed, then, flagging him down from across the company practice room and asking if he could teach him how to dance. Taylor is fiery and headstrong and brightly-burning in his ambition, and everything he does, he does with an intense passion.

Now, in the half-lit almost-quiet of the green room, Taylor mouths at his lips so tenderly - almost hesitantly - that Lincoln feels like he could melt. The hand on the side of his jaw carefully, worshipfully maps out the planes of his face, traces along his cheekbone, behind his ear, guides him to tilt his head for a better angle. Lincoln makes a strange, whining noise in the back of his throat that Taylor takes from him, swallows down with a satisfied hum that sends vibrations through to Lincoln’s very soul, like the thrumming pulse of a bass-line in his chest.

Lincoln leans further into Taylor’s gravity, kisses him with the quiet desperation that’s been pent up, building and building in a wordless crescendo within him for years on end. He tries his best to pour the vast depths of his devotion into this moment, every admiration and affection and confession, every brush of Lincoln’s lips against his an I adore you, every exhaled sigh an every love song we’ve ever sang made me think of you. I love you, he thinks as he presses Taylor flush against the back of the chair, as his hands let go of the armrests to tangle in shiny, dark hair and Taylor sings into his mouth in response. Taylor is beautiful and warm and sweaty against him, and Lincoln presses their lips together again and again, an unending chorus of thank you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Taylor, for his part, responds in kind, arching his body into Lincoln’s hold, warm hands unhurriedly searching for purchase and finding it at the nape of his neck, at just above the small of his back. Lincoln registers the way Taylor fists at the expensive fabric of his shirt, the way his blunted, neatly-manicured nails scrape against the base of his scalp, and Lincoln shivers a bit in his embrace, though he feels wonderfully warmed through, more alive than when they performed for hundreds of fans just hours ago.

Taylor tastes like sweat and the chemicals from the makeup wipes. It has no right to be as addictive as it is to him. Maybe it’s because Taylor’s lips are every bit as soft against his own as they look on the monitors.

Lincoln’s sure that his lips are thoroughly chapped, but judging from Taylor’s delicate gasps and the eager, greedy way he leans further and further into him, he’s also sure that Taylor doesn’t mind.

Lincoln holds the last kiss for as long as he dares, drinking in the feeling of satisfying all of his favorite dreams and his wildest hopes. He commits the shape of his groupmate in his hands to memory, basking in the euphoria of carding fingers through show-mussed hair, of Taylor’s hand twisting in the fabric of his blouse. A smile threatens to pull at his lips as Taylor’s feathery breaths ghost against his cheek, measured and slightly shaky, an orchestration coming apart at the seams.

They stay like that for a long moment, and there is synchrony, harmony in the way Taylor melts into his touch. He's trying to capture this moment, too, Lincoln knows, impressing every bit of it into the corners of his mind, the backs of his eyelids, the hollow of his ribs. 

Eventually, they break apart, and Lincoln opens his eyes to see Taylor smiling slightly, angelic, still leaning inward like he wants to chase his lips. It’s such an adorable image that Lincoln nearly goes to kiss him again, but then Taylor looks up at him through his lashes, blinking slowly, and Lincoln is awed into stillness. 

Taylor’s always been very charming, expressive in a way Lincoln envied, able to make their fans fall for him with nothing but a camera and a simple glance. 

But Taylor isn’t acting for anyone here. The affection that warms his deep, dark eyes is for Lincoln and Lincoln alone, something raw and unscripted and intimate enough to steal the air from Lincoln’s lungs, and he can only hope the open adoration is reflected in his own gaze.

God, he’s gorgeous.

Lincoln touches his forehead to Taylor’s, exhaling unsteadily.

Taylor’s hand smooths over the back of his neck, and he gasps a little, drawn in by his touch, his magnetism, his care.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years,” Lincoln admits softly into the shared air between them.

Taylor grins, a secret, clandestine thing, eyes half-lidded in a heady concoction of exhaustion and exhilaration and wanting.

“I know,” Taylor murmurs back, barely above a whisper, and Lincoln can hear the smile in his voice, all his sharp edges softened and heat tempered just for him. “Me, too.”

And it really is that simple. They’ve been dancing around each other for years on end, every bit of longing telegraphed like choreography through every minuscule gesture and fleeting touch. Every fragment of it is magnified by the glances they allowed themselves, reflected in the way their eyes meet, yearning painted in countless shades of onyx and bronze and ebony and sepia. 

Lincoln knows it, and Taylor knows it. 

And quite suddenly, the world has narrowed down to the two of them and nothing else.

“Yeah,” Lincoln responds dumbly, breathless from the proximity and the weight of years lifted from his shoulders. His eyes flick down to Taylor’s lips, at the red stain his own mouth has left there, at the delicate curve of them, love-drunk smiling and slightly puffy. 

He wants to kiss him again, wants to feel that smile pressed against his, wants to lean in and close the distance. And so he does, because nothing on this earth can stop Lincoln from chasing after Taylor in every stolen moment he can get, from tilting his head just the right way, from shutting his eyes and following through -

Except Taylor does stop him, pressing the pad of his index finger to his lips. 

Lincoln makes a confused sort of hum, opening his eyes to find Taylor giggling incandescently, and it almost makes up for not kissing him.

“It’s late, Link,” Taylor murmurs conspiratorially, though he has no need to when nobody else is here. “Norm and Scary’ve gotta be wondering what’s taking us so long.”

“Oh,” Lincoln says, disappointed - or, well, he tries to say it, but Taylor’s finger is still in the way, so it comes out a little odd. After considering for a moment, he places a kiss to the tip of Taylor’s finger instead, blinking up at him.

“God, put your pretty eyes away, I’m already embarrassingly in love with you,” Taylor responds, his bare face flushing noticeably darker even in the dim lighting. 

Lincoln smiles against his finger, and Taylor sighs, eyes darting elsewhere so he can focus better.

“Anyway. They’ve gotta be waiting for us to get into street clothes so we can get the fuck out of here,” Taylor continues, pointedly not looking directly at him.

Lincoln kisses his finger again, just to be a menace. Taylor’s breath hitches the slightest bit, and Lincoln grins. 

“Listen, the sooner we leave, the sooner we get to the hotel. And the sooner we get to the hotel,” Taylor finally looks at him - looks at all of him, eyes dragging slowly down his still-kneeling form - “the sooner we can pick up where we left off.” 

He makes eye contact then, smirking and smug as he pushes lightly at Lincoln’s shoulder to give himself space to stand. “Sound good?”

Holy shit.

Lincoln has the sudden, distinct thought that they’re going to need to cancel the rest of their tour, because Lincoln is going to die at Taylor’s (soft, beautiful, warm) hands if he keeps saying things like this. Lincoln will die, and their group will disband, and everything will be ruined because Taylor is every bit as cruel and conniving as he is beautiful and Lincoln is in far too deep. 

“Uh, you okay, dude?” his groupmate (boyfriend? partner? something else?) asks. 

“Great!” Lincoln says at an octave he didn’t know was possible, numbly pulling himself to stand and ignoring the way his knees ache. 

Taylor follows suit, and Lincoln makes for his change of clothes - though not without ducking down to place a quick kiss to Taylor’s temple, feeling more awake than he has in hours as he darts away from him. 

Taylor barks out a one-note laugh, startled and disbelieving.

“Race ya!” Lincoln yelps, laughter coloring his own voice as he quickly grabs his street clothes, leaving Taylor sputtering behind him. 

“Oh, you are so getting payback when we get to the hotel,” Taylor seethes not-so-darkly, grabbing his own go bag of clothes.

“I’m counting on it!” He replies, cheeky and giddy with energy despite the late hour.

Lincoln knows it’ll be hell not to hold Taylor as close as he wants out in public, not to kiss him beyond the bounds of manufactured flirting for the cameras. They’ll need to talk about what they are now, exactly, he thinks, as he starts to pick apart the series of crisscrossed, mazelike fastenings of his stage outfit. He has to remind himself to be a bit more patient so the fabric doesn’t rip at the seams in the wake of his excitement. 

But, as he finally extricates himself and pulls on the SPDRBZ hoodie he had snatched from the merch booth a few stops ago, Lincoln can’t help but feel optimistic. 

It’ll be worth it, he thinks, to hold Taylor, kiss him, shower him with praise until his skin flushes red, to be held and kissed and praised in return away from prying eyes. To have something just for them, even if it means they’ll need to work hard to keep this under wraps.

They’re no strangers to hard work. Lincoln’s groupmates are about as diligent as they come, Taylor included. Surely, this won’t be too difficult.

“You coming or what, slowpoke?” Taylor asks, pulling him from his thoughts. He’s changed into a simple tee shirt and cargos at the doorway, cane in hand and fondness in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Lincoln says, stumbling into his shoes as he meets Taylor, wanting to sling an arm around his waist before correcting himself and draping it across his shoulders instead as they head out. He beams regardless, giddy and hopeful, and the feeling in his chest burns brighter than the stage lights. “Let’s go.”

#idol au BELOVED. i've been thinking about this au for nearly 6 months now isn't that crazy #anyway for a little context: the PC teens of s2 are in a fun little idol group together!!! singing dancing rapping wearing fun outifts etc. #at this point they've gotten popular enough to go on tours and. well. lincoln and taylor are very down bad for each other so. gestures #also big big thank-you to nyxie for helping put together this au way back when. and for helping me choose a title aksbkajbsds #dndads #fic #happi scribbles #swiftli

[maomao-words]

Just some self-indulged headcannons about (few of) my favorite men in Record of Ragnarok.

God, I fucking love this manga (づ￣ ³￣)づ

Qin Shi, Poseidon, and Hades confessing to you:

Qin Shi Huang:

“I love you, you know? Always have.”

Qin's words were slightly slurred, a side effect of the heavy medicine they had to administer to him. His eyes were half-open and his body was covered in dark bruises and still-open wounds as he laid on his hospital bed.

The tears gathering behind your eyelids threatened to fall at any moment, but you gnashed your teeth and drew a sharp breath. He doesn't know what he's saying, you whispered to yourself.

But Qin's tender look told you otherwise. The faint smile on his lips drew you closer to him as you silently sat down beside his bed and gently cupped his cheek.

A high fever assaulted your skin at the very moment of contact, making you wince, but a weak chuckle drew your attention away from it. When you locked eyes with Qin, the words he uttered to you in complete confidence a few minutes ago were now back in the foreground, playing endlessly in your head.

“I really want to believe you," you muttered after a couple of heartbeats, earning you another weak chuckle. “Hey, when have I ever lied to you, little lady?” Qin retorted at you, but quickly shut his mouth when he saw the glare on your face.

You sighed and calmed yourself. The man in front of you, the man you loved to bits and pieces, finally returned from the verge of death and you would be damned if you let him go again.

Hoisting yourself up to your full height before bending down, you planted a soft kiss on Qin's lips, savoring his astonished expression after you pulled away.

"Get well. Then I will accept your words."

Poseidon:

Poseidon was going to lose his shit.

Blood painfully throbbed behind his temple, signaling an upcoming headache, yet Poseidon paid it no heed. He kept his eyes firmly locked on the wounded man, the most foolish of creatures really, who was openly flirting with you. With you. In front of him. Flirting.

Murder was justified. That was what Hades always told him.

But Poseidon also knew how ugly your temper was. You were only half-listening to the man in front of you, while focusing most of your attention on glaring to Poseidon, wordlessly warning him not to make a scene.

Once you finished patching the fighter up, you signaled for the nurses to wheel him away, as he continued to babble nonsense and flirt with whomever came into his field of vision.

"Can you stop?" you sighed in exasperation as you put the bandages away, but Poseidon merely frowned at your words. "Fuck," you muttered under your breath at the stupid man in front of your eyes, "I really won't be able to talk to anyone at this rate."

Poseidon scowled again. He sighed and calmly rose to his feet before heading toward you.

"Why would you need anyone? You're mine." Poseidon said, confidently, as if he was simply stating a fact. You stared at him, your mind crashing into pieces, before you did the only logical thing in this situation. Kissing your long-held crush who has just confessed (?) to you.

Later on, when the guard standing watch in front of the medical ward told the story of how Poseidon stormed out of one of rooms with a flushed face and a lipstick mark of his lips, he was accused of drinking while working and suspended for a month.

Hades:

“You have to come back to me. Because I cannot do this without you.” Hades was on his knees, cradling you between his arms.

You won. You fought hard for humanity and won your battle with a smile on your face before collapsing into the ground. Before any of the other humans reached you, Hades was there.

He pressed hard on the gaping wound on your stomach. Blood was still seeping from all the different cuts on your body, making Hades clench his jaw hard. In a heartbeat, he circled his arms around you and hoisted you up.

The nurses were already there, guided by a sobbing human you called a friend, but Hades refused to put you down.

"Did you just, haha," your broken laughter echoed in the empty hallway as Hades sped up toward the medical wing, "confess to me?" Your voice was weak but full of mirth.

"I'm glad you're finding this enjoyable," Hades grimly responded to you, strengthening his hold on you. You shook your head, causing more blood to ooze out of the injury in your neck and earning you a disgruntled glare from the man holding you.

"I'm happy, Hades. At least I can die knowing that my feelings-- that they are reciprocated."

"Love," Hades calmly responded, "You are not dying. Not when I still haven't properly told you that I love you." He squeezed you tightly before dropping a gentle peck on your bloodied lips.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv qin shi huang #snv poseidon #snv hades #i would marry any of these men in a fucking heartbeat y'all #i want to write about the others as well! #hopefully I'll be able to do it soon~

[makeyoumine69]

Hi, I’m so sorry if this is an inconvenience, but I thought you’d be able to help me with something because you’re Patrick’s favorite 🥰🥰

So… okay. Very weird situation I’m in, but. like. I have always loved self shipping. Especially with villains. I have always thought of myself as the “exception” where they could be horrible to everyone, but be kind to me, if I were a character in their show or movie or book. But then I spent all of 2022 and 2023 being abused, I have now been convinced that love comes with conditions, and it’s affected my self shipping too. even though I have escaped my abusive situation, the damage still lingers. I’ve been trying very hard for to heal from what happened to me, yet self shipping is still something very difficult for me to do now, when it used to be the easiest thing in the world. Even with non-villains, I still think I am unable to receive kindness unless it is in the form of violence.

Well, I watched American Psycho a few days ago, and I really fell for Pat. Like. Really fell for him, for some godforsaken reason lol?? And for a few days, I genuinely felt good with him, I felt safe, like he couldn’t harm me. I felt like the exception. This was my first time feeling genuinely good while self shipping again. I thought he’d never hurt me simply because he likes me enough to want me to feel loved and safe with him. That he could be horribly violent to everyone in the world, but with me it’d be so different. I spent all of yesterday feeling so proud of the progress I am making in my healing and genuinely feeling so loved and happy. Imagining him giving me flowers, admiring the star clips in my hair, liking my freckles and counting them. Fluffy romantic stuff haha. I have even thought of him protecting me, him knowing my past of being hurt, him being so overwhelmed with rage on my behalf and vowing to never make me feel scared like other people did. I have thought of him as a… very violent guard dog boyfriend 😂

But fast forward to this morning, I am talking to one of my friends who is also into self shipping, about to announce my exciting news that I am finally on the path to healing, that I feel really good drawing myself and writing myself with a very sick, twisted, violent murderous villain, and maybe that means I can feel good with other characters someday too. But my friend said very casually about how Patrick is shallow and a misogynist, which… yes, he is, I am aware 😭 and they kept going on about how he’d never love a girl who isn’t super thin and Hollywood attractive. And it felt like a punch to the guts. I realized I would never ever be attractive to Pat. I feel. disgusting. I feel… like the exact opposite of everything he’d desire, now that my friend had made me think about it: I’m not thin, I’m very chubby with a round stomach, I have freckles, glasses, I don’t even have nice nails because I bite them, and my teeth aren’t white because a side effect of my antidepressant yellows them a bit — I am just. feeling too unattractive to Bateman. Not to say that any of these traits are unattractive, I just feel like… *Pat* wouldn’t like them, wouldn’t like ME specifically. Having a combination of all of these makes me feel… Undesirable to him. Not the exception anymore. And that kills me. I feel so hurt and heartbroken. It was the first time in a year that I was finally started to feel good self shipping again ;-; and now I cannot bring myself to indulge any romantic ideas with him anymore. I feel very stupid for allowing myself to have feelings.

Days ago, I went into his tag to look at photos of him, and found your blog, and remembered you seem to write for him, so you’d know him better than anyone else. I know it’s highly unrealistic for him to like me, but could you tell me how he’d maybe find someone like me attractive, even if I’m not conventionally attractive? It doesn’t have to be a drabble or a fic at all, I’m just asking for uh, reassurance, I suppose. I’m so sorry to come to you and bother you with this but I have been crying about it all day and I thought I’d ask for your perspective on the matter :’) anyway, I’m so sorry, if you don’t want to reply, please don’t worry about it. thank you very much for your time. I hope you have a good New Years and please take care 💙💙💙

Hello my dear anon! 💕 First of all, I want to thank you for putting so much effort into writing this - I can relate to all of this because most of my irl friends call me crazy when I say that Patrick Bateman is my comfort character, and it really sucks. It took me a long time to realize that the most important thing is not someone else's opinion, but how your crush makes you feel. In my darkest days, Patrick was my savior, and I would never trade that feeling of comfort for someone else's opinion. And I'm not a model either, but I will tell you this - Patrick's taste in dates and his obsession with being perfect in everything was driven by the society he lived in. Only God knows what his real preferences in dates were. Remember, he seems to only love blondes, but his ex-girlfriend Bethany was a brunette and, in my opinion, she contributed a lot to his self-destruction and loss of sanity. So, my point is pretty simple - you may think your imperfections are bad, but to another person they could be the rarest of diamonds, because we are who we are, some people are just afraid to show their true selves. Patrick is exactly that kind of person. Speaking of writing - you can come into my DM, and I'd be happy to talk to you about anything! Please don't cry! I'm eager to do whatever I can to help you!

#this ask made me cry #answered asks #asks are always welcome

[nutal]

C, E, and J from the fanfic asks:)

oooo alright alright so!

C:  How did you come up with the title to [insert fic?]

You didn’t insert any fic name haha so I’ll just do all of the ones I’ve uploaded.

-Hurt Like Hell, Heal Like Heaven: This one was actually originally the title of a South Park fic I never finished like years ago with a very different storyline and one day while I was scrolling through my notes app, I saw it, saw the title and thought that it’d make a great title for the fic I was currently working on instead! So, I took that title, and ended up using it for that! Like repurposing it kinda lmfao

-Stupid, Beautiful Cause: Describing Lute’s feelings towards Adam in the title. Like he was the cause for all the weird ways she started feeling and acting, and it was so stupid but… damn beautiful at the same time

-Vermillion: This was based off of the title of a Slipknot song I listened to A LOT while writing this. The actual title of that one was “Vermillion Pt. 2” but I simplified it, haha. I listened to a lotta Slipknot in general in the process of this, but I feel like this one fit the most due to the title itself describing the color of Adam’s demon wings and also the lyrics remind me of how Adam probably looks at Lute after he realizes he’s a demon. Thinking he’s not gonna be accepted but still holds her so dear to his heart!!

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well?

In general, I identify with a lot of different characters for various reasons. Like Nicole from Co09, Olive Penderghast from Easy A, Kim Pine from SPVTW, and Max from ST. (There’s prob more) In terms of the ones I’ve actually written fanfiction about though, I lowkey relate to both Lute and Adam at the same time LMFAO. In general, I think I’m pretty sarcastic/snarky for the most part, just getting a kick out of messing with people (not in a bad way i promise its all in good fun unless theyre a legitimate asshole) though at the same time it also seems like I’m very done with everything some days. Other days though, I can be off my sht if you get me pumped, and I fucking love metal dude. I think pretty much all my fics are somewhat self-indulgent in ways, like essentially describing my ideal dynamics/processing certain situations and stuff. So there’s that!

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

CLASSIC HURT/COMFORT! And yes, all of my fics posted as of now are exactly that. But at the same time, I dig a solid band AU or just two characters having the absolute times of their lives together, acting like idiot assholes just doing dumb shit they know they’re gonna regret the next morning, but, eh! To hell with it! Oh and I’m also a sucker for some level of intimacy in all fics. That just hits!

Thank you for the ask :)

#nutals asks! #ao3 #fanfiction