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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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Note: Instead of posting a meta or a fic today, allow me to take a quick break from that because I think I really need to appreciate some people here and the fandom overall.

February 7, 2021.

Today, I turned 24 and my boyfriend surprised me with a gift I think I’ll be taking to heart for a very long time.

The story behind the gift was as precious (or even more precious) as the gift itself and I thought I’d share it since it turned out some content creators were involved in this gift and I very much want to express how much this gift has defined this day for me and will place my 24th birthday as one of those birthdays I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

Apparently, I had casually dropped both my tumblr and my ao3 account during one of our conversations and somewhere around November he had started looking through my bookmarks, my posts on tumblr and some of my interactions with people in the fandom.

I should have seen it coming. It had started with my boyfriend suddenly asking about my hyperfixation with Levihan.

Sav? Shipping? Sav? Binge reading ships and meta posts? Sav? Gushing about a fictional ship?

And I remember gushing about this with my seemingly uninterested boyfriend a long night after explaining what was oddly the most out of character thing for someone like me.

I was sharing with him my metas and hcs and maybe, I was dropping a few of my favorite quotes along the way and it turned out he was interested. Suddenly he was asking me about my favorite fics, my favorite scenes. Suddenly, he was rereading my favorite fics with me and a few times, he was quoting those same scenes. I did find out he was looking through my blog when I got a random message from a really sketchy tumblr telling me to open my facebook.

I suspected a few times that he could be planning something. December passed with nothing and eventually he stopped asking so I clocked that as a fevered dream or unnecessary assuming on my end and didn’t think too much of it after.

It turned out my boyfriend had messaged my favorite authors about their fics and he commissioned one of my favorite artists (if not my favorite) to draw a few photos and bound them into a Levihan Anthology

And it feels fucking amazing to receive something like this. To get Levihan which helped me through the worst of 2020, bound forever as a book I can just open up and read anytime. And I guess tearing up at receiving such a gift had me thinking of a lot of things at once (which were always at the back of mind) but I thought of sharing now.

The past year wasn’t easy. Actually. don’t think it’s an understatement to say this past year was dog shit. With the covid pandemic and all plans after that cancelled, I’m sure we can all agree we had our ups and downs.

I had a lot of my own plans completely thrown out the window for numerous reasons. I had plans of going to law school part time while building a career. And, I got a job right after college to make these plans come true. In September the law school I got accepted to (after working so damn hard the past year to get accepted) denied my appeal for night classes. I decided to drop my enrollment to focus on my career. A week later, my job laid me off.

And for once in my life, I wasn’t going anywhere. And I lived in a house where everyone was always doing something and as soon as I lost my job I was pressured to find another one. But as we all know, searching for a job during this pandemic isn’t easy. I was still reeling after having dropped my enrollment just to focus on my job only to lose that job the week after with no prior notice. Everyone around me was busy doing their own thing. I had no one to talk to and for a while, I was falling into this pit of depression.

My days consisted of me hiding under the covers of my bed in between the few interviews I would take day to day. Around that time, I decided to binge watch Attack on Titan as well

I was never one to get hyper fixated in ships. In fact, this was the first ship since Royai and Victuuri which I have been so passionate. And this is a whole new level of passion. I think this is the first time I’ve ever written so much in this small amount of time. It was slow going. Just like Levi and Hange’s relationship, my fixation with this ship was a slowburn.

Those days alone, I was reading fanfiction by the bundle, I was scrolling through the Levihan tag like a simp, leaving kudos in ao3 on a throwaway account and just scrolling through random people’s tumblr accounts.

What happened during the one month? And when I was alone, sad, lonely and stagnant with no one to talk to, when everyone around me was living their own lives, all I had alone in the bedroom was Levi and Hange’s stories to keep me company between interviews.

And the meta analyses and headcanons I had about their relationship were teaching me things. They were teaching me that life was never about how quickly you progress or how far you go. Maybe the real winners in life are the ones who can build good relationships, build relationships so mutually satisfying they keep each other growing and in those few moments reading, headcanoning ships, I did realize, maybe even as stagnant as I was at that moment, my life wasn’t dogshit.

No one’s life is dogshit for a few small bumps along the way. Sometimes it just is part of the process of growing, learning to get past the worse, learning to manage relationships. And maybe it’s these relationships which make life worth living. Maybe it’s these struggles depicted in these stories and the bounce back. Maybe it’s the love, the life, the emotions so carefully described and depicted in every single story which makes life, life.

With every single fic I read and every single fan art I scrolled through. Levihan was teaching my things about love, loss and life.

Sometimes, these fandoms are the things which can catch people before they fall too low into something. These works and stories authors and artists shared so generously were what pulled me out of this state and are what inspired me to explore this relationship for all the potential its worth and maybe share my own stories and headcanons which people may learn a thing or two from or maybe just find some comfort and hope in.

And these inspirations eventually evolved to writing. Writing 10,000 words in a day in between three interviews? I never was a writer but somehow, I found myself spending hours exploring the themes of love, loss and life with our favorite pairing

I didn’t start writing out of nowhere. I didn’t start making metas out of nowhere. I needed the right inspiration, the right content to get me into this point where I could continue writing, reading, meta-ing, appreciating, headcanoning and everything in between.

And I just wanted to express my gratefulness to every single person in the fandom who had made it possible for me to pull out of that blackhole. Fandoms are underrated and I believe there are so many lessons which can be learned from the right content and from the right people.

To the people who so willingly went along with my boyfriend’s little project:

@faerielleart I saved A LOT of your art and they’re sitting in my google photos under a folder called Levihan and maybe I did share a few of your photos (the cheeks one and the beast titan one and the les miserables) ones to my boyfriend unsolicited just to show him how beautiful Levihan can be. Thank you so much for these beautiful drawings.

@lizaloveslevihan You were one of the first people I talked with in this fandom and dreams really was one of those stories that fucked me up a little bit, had me make a few misses on the commute on the way home one day but maybe it did have me explore the angst genre a little more, maybe it did have me explore Levi’s character a little more.

@ariadneamare YELLOW. OH GOD. You know those letters? The ones which Hange left Levi at the end of the story? I ended up copying and pasting them and sending them to my boyfriend right after reading and I remember talking to him about this. We might be facing that same type of story in the future and I guess that ended up becoming a lot of foundation of our discussion and I guess, it’s just proof that there is so much to learn from fanfiction. There’s just so much to explore and fanfiction as a genre just does not get the credit it deserves.

@fanmoose12 I was exploring your works even before I started this tumblr up again. Maybe it was even your works which got me building my own headcanons from Levihan and writing from there. And I think I did leave a few anonymous messages telling you how I started exploring other genres because of your fics. Your works got my out of my dark place, it got me exploring a lot of other genres and for that I’m eternally grateful.

And somehow, my boyfriend picked that all up from late night discussions and one-on-one metas. Surprisingly, he wasn’t just playing along to humor his girlfriend. He was exploring the themes of love, life, loss and Levihan right along with me. (And got spoiled about Hange’s death along the way… Oops.)

And I am eternally grateful for that and I made sure to shower him with a lot of kisses after he kept me in the loop with what has been going on these past few months with his sudden interest in Levihan.

And this huge thank you goes out to all content creators (authors, artists, gif creators, shitposters alike). Sometimes you never know who’s thinking about your work, who’s shoehorning your works and quoting them to their best friends. Sometimes, you never will find out but your work had pulled someone out of a blackhole which they’ve been stuck in and sometimes you never know that your work has been that seemingly small thing that had taught them a lesson in love, life or relationships. Sometimes, that one work turned out to be an inspiration which got them writing and sharing their own stories or making their own drawings

And I guess, the point is, keep writing. Keep drawing. Keep sharing pouring your love, passion and emotions into works of art because you never really know whose heart you touched or whose life you changed.

I have a job now. I decided to push law school a few years back and maybe take the time to work on myself now and maybe spend the next months or maybe years writing metas and fanfictions. I was pulled out of my hole. I was inspired. I have my own stories to tell and I don’t think I would have been here if I hadn’t spent the last few months reading fic after fic, meta after meta, appreciating art after art,

So anyway, I just wanted to share some pics of my favortie fics, immortalized in one anthology, all organized by my boyfriend. And I think he made some great decisions with these.

(Bookbinding credits to @mayerwien)

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #lyf #life post

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

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Sacrifices (Supernatural)

Summary: Y/N copes after Crowley sacrifices himself// mentions of death and depression

Characters: Crowley x reader, Dean x reader, Angry!Sam x reader

"What else is needed for the spell?" Crowley asks me. "Just one thing. The hardest thing. The sacrifice of a soul," you answer. We were in the endgame now. We needed to kill Lucifer before he could corrupt Jack anymore than he already did.

Dean, Sam, Cas and Mary worked to distract Lucifer while you and Crowley worked on the spell. Crowley stares at you a little longer than what you're used to.

Which leads you to think that something went wrong or something is about to go wrong. "What happened?" "Nothing happened," "Then why are you staring at me?" "Because I love you."

You stop doing the spell for a moment and lock eyes with him. "I love you too," he finds a sense of relief in your words. Love isnt something that was reciprocated to him before.

"What is this about, Crowley?" "Just make sure the spell is ready." You eye him skeptically and after a few seconds, you knew what he was going to do.

He stands up to walk away, you hold him back by the hand. You stand up and wrap your arms around him. He slowly wraps his arms around waist and you tighten your grip aroubd him.

"I'm proud of you." He squeezes you and kisses the top of your head before pulling away. You watch with wide eyes when Crowley walks up to Lucifier. "You know you can't beat me, Crowley." "I know," he says.

Crowley looks at you before stabbing himself with the demon blade. "No!" you yell. The light flashes in his face before he falls to the ground. His soul is sucked into the spell you were conducting the spell in.

Tears swell in your eyes and you whisper one last incantation and the rip between worlds was starting the shrink. Cas and Mary continued to fight Lucifer and you rush over to pick up Crowley.

You place his body across your shoulder blades and hold one of his legs and arms to keep him steady. Sam and Dean let me go through first. You walk a few feet before setting Crowley's body down and kneeling down next to him.

"You deserved better," you say to him before putting a hand on his chest. You lean your back against the porch of the shack and you look to the tree line in attempt to calm down.

More sobs escaped your mouth and you find yourself leaning your forehead against Crowley's. "I don't care what anybody says. You're a big softie. You were anyway,"

"No!" you look up to see Castiel being faced from behind and killed. Dean was the one who screamed. Castiel's body falls to the ground and the next thing I know, Mary is pushing Lucifier into the rip between worlds and it closed behind here.

It seems that everyone is going to grieve today. Sam looks to you but you transport away to United Kingdom to be buried.

Here you are in power surpressing cuffs, staring at a very angry Sam Winchester. Dean was in the very back, standing there quietly with his arms crossed. You haven't Sam this angry or Dean this quiet, it was starting to freak you out.

"What do you mean you can't bring you can't bring her back? I've seen witches revive themselves with different kinds of spells." he says. "Believe me, I tried." you say. Their silence encouraged you to continue.

"I had a best friend once. Someone that I knew for decades. We went to junior high together and we made arrangements to be roommates in college. But then one night, we were coming back from the gym and we were ambushed by a pack of muts. They had her by the throat, and I froze. I didn't utter a word, and they... tore her apart. I brought her corpse to some abandoned warehouse and tried to revive her for hours, and nothing."

"You think that would be the worst part but no. The worst part of all this was when I had to call her mother. I can still hear her screaming," you add as a few tears escape your eyes.

You quickly wipe them away and Sam says, "What you think you can let a few crocodile tears slip and you're off the hook?" "What the hell is wrong with you? I helped all of you out when you needed a witch and couldn't find Rowena anywhere,"

"You're a friend of Crowley's, we don't know you or your moral code." "Watch your mouth. He sacrificed himself for the spell. For you. The Crowley I knew never would have done that." you snap.

"Do you know what it feels like to lose all hope for saving someone because you're scared of breaking your own heart if you fail?" you add. "Yes," Dean finally says.

You and Sam look to him and he adds, "Sammy, I told you that it was best to let Mom go, and you go a kidnap an ally." "She's not an ally," "She helped us keep Lucifier away from Jack. Yes she is," Dean defends.

"You may have given up on Mom, but I won't. I refuse to do that." Sam says before rushing out of the room angrily. Dean walks towards you with the key to the handcuffs. "I understand why he's angry. I don't blame him for that." you say as he unlocks the cuffs and they clatter on the metal table.

Dean doesn't say anything and you stand up to walk out until your feet stops in their tracks. You turn around and grab a chair to sit down. "What are you doing?" "I know that look all too well. You're not doing so good with coping."

"I'm fine," "Look, I know what it's like to have no one. To be alone in a crowded room because you don't want to burden anyone with your emotions." "Bottling things in won't help," you add.

He stares at you but doesn't say a word. "Come on, I know a cheese steak joint that's open 24 hours," you add, holding out your hand. He looks at you hand for a moment before taking your hand into his. You say an incantation and transport yourself to Philadelphia, PA.

Dean's eyes widen as he tries to stabilize himself. "Why does that feel worse than when angels and demons do it?" "I dunno. Different creatures, different abilities." You say with a shrug before walking inside. Dean follows you in and you greet your buddy.

"Long time no see," "I was starting to miss your pretty face in here, pipsqueak," "Keep yappin' and I'll give toss you a knuckle sandwich, ya punk." You tease. "Missed you too, sweetheart." You and Dean sit and you feel his gaze on you when you take a once over of the menu.

"How you holding up?" Dean asks. "I'm holding, but isn't that a question I should be asking you?" You answer. "I'm holding too," "You don't have to open up if you don't want to. But I'm here to listen when you are." You tell him as he meets your gaze. "Hey, Reggy, can I get one of your famous cheesteaks with ex-" "Extra sauce. Of course, baby doll." "Thanks,"

"You seem to have a good relationship with him," Dean says. "Eh, found a loop hole in his cross roads demon deal. Felt indebted to me every since. I just love his cheesteaks. You should try one." You say. "You're different than other witches." "Really? How?" "You know how to appreciate people and make them feel cared for. Crowley, he.. he was better because of you." Dean says.

Your heart sinks when you hear Crowley's name. Reggy comes around with your philly cheesteak and fries. He sets it on the counter and you say thank you. "No problem baby doll," "How's the daughter doin'?" You ask. "Thinking of becoming a lawyer," "Lawyer? Wow," "Yeah, she wants to be where the action is,"

"I can understand that. I'll wish you luck. Tell her I asked for her alright?" "Sure, you want anything buddy?" Reggy asks Dean. "Uh just a coffee, black." Dean answers. "You got it,"

"There a pie joint just down the street if you want to go there instead." "No, I'm okay here. I just.. don't know where to start." Dean says. "Anywhere."

He clasps his hands together and says, "I'm tired, and I'm pissed. I'm pissed that it always has to be me and Sam that has the save the world when it goes to shit." "Why does it have to be you and Sam?"

"Because no one else will. It's always been like that. And there's always another problem after the next and the next and the next. There's no break. It's like we're stuck in a horror movie." Dean runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes for a moment.

"Things between you and Sam seem pretty tense since.. nevermind. Sorry," you trail off. "Yeah, things are tense. He never got the chance to grow up with Mom. And when she finally came back, he thought he would have the chance, but... She died and he felt like that was stripped from him." "But that only makes more room for pain and grief. You would think I would be used to it by now bu-"

"The day you get used to death, is that day you stop being human. You can't be afraid to love because of the pain. Love and pain are two sides of the same coin." "Sometimes I should I couldn't feel a damn thing." He croaks, trying hard to keep it together.

You reach out and squeeze his hand comfortably. He slowly meets your gaze and you say, "Me neither,"

#dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #crowley x reader

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castlevania-afterdark-imagines · 4 years

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Can I please request? For Drac, Alu, Trevy, Hector and Issac please? Their s/o is slightly clingy but they don't know how to approach them with, then suddenly one day a rainy day triggers some bad, depressive thoughts and so their s/o tries to find them and cling on to them for comfort but hesitates because they dont want to disturb them.

Writing this one up because lord knows everybody could use this right now with all the shit going on in the world. Making this a liiiiittle more broad into how these guys would react to their S/O’s depressive episodes rather than the specific rain trigger, just so it can be more broadly applicable.

Dracula:

He’s seen some shit, he knows as well as anyone how overwhelming the world can be.

Doting hubby to the T, he hates seeing the light of his life upset about anything at all.

Lots of touching, from full body embraces to carefully threading his fingers through their hair. The usual number of kisses to the forehead and temples increases tenfold.

Probably the best at talking things out of the characters, his low voice gentle and soothing, and he has the experience to draw from when it comes to working things out.

He makes it a point to never get judgemental over what his s/o is feeling right then, no matter how small it might be in the grand scheme of things. Sometimes it’s the small things that cause the most suffering.

Basically can make a blanket fort out of that cape so he will not complain if you ask to hide away with him under it.

Alucard:

Tbh the guy probably has enough experience with his own melancholic moods to know how to handle these pretty well.

Though the best thing he can offer is the one thing he didn’t have the luxury of, the presence of another being. Just making himself available for whatever they need.

He can fill the conversational void with hours of talking if they need the distraction, he’s more than happy to lay in bed with them and pet their hair if they need touch.

The hardest one is if they say they need a little alone time, because then he can’t keep an eye on them, but he will oblige as best as he can.

Probably still going to pop into their room once or twice to bring offerings of water and some small snacks.

Always torn about asking them to talk about it. He’s narrated his woes out loud to himself thousands of times but he was never sure if it helped or just kept the negative thoughts hanging in the air.

Of course he will talk to them about it if they want to, he just won’t let them fall down the circular loop of self degradation over it.

Trevor:

King of “I’m shit at words so let me just hold you for a while and shut up so you can talk.”

Honest to god thinks he’s utter shit at dealing with the episodes, but probably better than expected?

He can sense when one is starting like a critter knows to run before an earthquake. But he never runs away.

If they weren’t already clinging to him he’s practically glued to their hip, itching and ready to take care of any menial thing that pops up.

Hungry? Got you covered. Need something to drink? Yup. Fireplace running low? Give him five minutes and he’ll be back in with fresh firewood to keep you guys warm all night.

He won’t be inclined to let them just hide in bed all day, he will join in for some extended morning snuggles but will encourage them to get up, get the most basic level of dressed, and potentially just sit outside for a bit.

Subscribes to the train of thought that sometimes to stop being stuck in your head you have to actually move.

Hector:

Gentle boi. Might be kinda oblivious at first to the shift, he can sense ‘something’ is up but doesn’t really pin it as depression.

Clinging to his arm, maybe they’re just extra affectionate today? Sure, this is fine- wait those are tears about the bubble over, hold up-

Cuddles up with you and Cesar, carefully trying to ask if you want to talk about it or just sit with him for a while.

Provider of creature comforts, he’d offer to run into town to get anything you’d need or gather it from the garden.

Anything that would have been s/o’s household chores are done faster than they can try to tell him they’ll do it later.

He can’t directly change their mood, but he can maintain a safe environment.

Isaac:

The one who probably treats them the most normal out of the rest.

It’s not that he doesn’t notice or care about the shift in their mood, but he’s never been the type to bow to those kinds of thoughts. In his mind, it’s like letting them win.

If they need more touch, it’s just like any other day they need more touch in his books. Or if they need more rest they simply need more rest, he can address the needs for what they are without coddling the depression itself.

Of course he’s going to make sure they eat and drink, bringing a meal to their bed is not something out of the blue either.

Better at listening than he is talking during these times. He’s aware his advice can be harsh, so it’s best to save it for a better time than at his s/o’s weakest moments.

Regardless of how he tries to not act differently towards them, he is going to be 110 levels more aggressive to anybody else in your path.

If somebody so much as half remarks that his s/o isn’t putting in their usual share of work for the day they’re going to be nursing a split lip later in the day.

-Mod Soviet

#vlad dracula tepes #adrian tepes #trevor belmont #Hector #Isaac #gender neutral reader #mod soviet #imagines #Castlevania

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feliciohno · 3 years

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I'm back but not without a quick psa

Okay ik I do like these little psa bullshits all the time and I am sorry and ik only like maybe 5 people care I'm just the kinda person who feels the need to over explain constantly even though ik I don't have to. Anyways, this is hopefully gonna be a quick thing and done but I just need to talk a little bit about my coming back and some changes to the blog so lets go.

So, I'll be honest, I'm not fully ready to come back. Just being frank but the only reason I'm coming back after about a month is because I wanted to take part in a Chaggie month during may and this is the blog I use for that kinda stuff. But I didn't want to reopen the blog and then just post about Hazbin cause honestly I'd feel bad. I know I say time and time again that this blog isn't JUST Hetalia but I'm not dumb, I know what you guys followed the blog for. And it's not that I blame anyone because where the content isn't only Hetalia it tends to be mostly Hetalia.

If it wasn't for the Chaggie month I probably would have stayed away longer ngl. Don't get me wrong, I do feel much better than I did when I first left. I just still don't feel great. Without getting too much into it, my brain doesn't really do great things sometimes. Whenever something bad happens to me it often will latch those emotions to things in the moment. Sometimes it's stuff like food or a song but a lot of times it's shows and characters and ships. It sucks cause it very often tends to hit special interests the most. There really isn't a special interest I have that I can enjoy without issue except maybe bats. And ik this is typically a trauma response but like? My brain recently has started to do it outside of trauma? Like I'm pretty sure I haven't gone through any trauma recently?? So idk man it's dumb and hates me. Anyways, there's still some characters and ships and stuff for Hetalia that I really can't look at without panicking lmao. But honestly it's okay. I'm kinda use to this kinda stuff by now?

Basically my hiatus was so I could step away from people and just like the show by myself. I blocked tags, I only interacted with the show and drew stuff for it when I felt like I wanted to or could. I only talked about the show with an extremely small select group of friends and even that was on rare occasion. There's a word for what I was trying to do but I can't remember it rn it's like re-something therapy. But whatever so yeah. And honestly? It was working really well. It's still working really well. I feel better than I did before. But like? It's still not great. There's gonna be stuff that still messes me up. This isn't the kinda thing that goes away over night and I knew that going into my hiatus. But! You guys stuck with me (from what I can tell) and I genuinely thank you all for that! So like yeah I am coming back to the blog including Hetalia posting. I'm probably gonna keep the tags blocked though and only look at like certain mutual content and stuff. Just stuff that I know for sure isn't gonna idk set me off (I desperately don't wanna call any of this stuff triggers cause then that's admitting how much they actually emotionally affect me and I'm not even gonna go there lmao).

That's basically it in regards of my hiatus BUT now I gotta talk about some changes to this blog. Nothing huge just two minor things.

The first thing is this blog is now my Problematic Media blog AND my blog to put Gore/N S F W content on. The main reason for this is I got accepted to be an artist on a blog called @/ponydoodles (if you like mlp related content go give it a follow :> ). One of the rules though of being an artist is the main blog you use and that is associated with your mod title can not have any extreme gore or N S F W content on it. Which like, I don't blame them for making that a rule. The mlp fandom has a lot of bad rep cause of older and probably even still modern fans. I have my own opinions on that kinda stuff but that's neither here nor there. So yeah! Any content of mine that is too suggestive or gory will be posted here no matter the source. Please make sure to block any tags of stuff you don't wanna see. And just a quick note, I will not be tagging N S F W content as such because those posts get blocked and it's FUCKING annoying. Instead I will be using the tag NSFT (not safe for tumblr) which from what I've seen is what most people are using these days. As for gore I always do my best to make sure everything is properly tagged with more intense or triggering content.

The last small change to this blog is this- I will no longer be posting about non blog related content on here. Lemme explain a little. I'm sure a lot of you noticed that I tend to make little posts here and there about myself, my life, cartoons just anything on my mind. The problem with this is I ended up almost killing my main blog @hext00ns because I was never fucking using it. And because I never used it for so long I don't get much interaction from people on that blog but I did start to get it here. From there it was a loop. I'd post more on here, causing less attention on my main, causing people to interact more with my side, causing me to want to post more on my side and less on my main. And honestly? It actually made me kinda depressed? In a weird way? It's kinda dumb but Hextoons is like my brand. Being the weird cartoon freak that knows way too much about animation and anything involving it has always and will always be my main and in some cases only personality trait lmao. It's also where I post my original content which is really important to me. So, here's what's gonna happen. I'm only gonna be posting about content that pertains to the sources and content that I use this blog for. Any other content or blogging or whatever will go on my main @hext00ns So like if you liked that kinda stuff or if you like other cartoons, anime, and video game stuff, just god please go follow that account. Genuinely. I promise that blog is full of the same F- bullshit quality all my content tends to be.

And one last thing cause I feel like some people are gonna be curious, yes you can still talk to me about Hetalia and send asks and shit. I still love asks and interactions more than life itself and that hasn't changed. It really is what motivates me to do shit. Comments, tags on reblogs, asks, this kinda stuff puts a fire under my ass to continue and create content that, I assume, you guys like. I'm always open to that kinda stuff on either blog. And where yeah, Hetalia kinda makin' me sad still just a bit, I am better. And honestly? I have the physical ability to just? Not check my notifs for a day or so if I need a short breather or I'm not feeling up to it? Like tech is so amazing how you can exit out of apps and windows like wow guys it's so crazy (/s/j).

So yeah, your fruity little Italian is back from superhell what's up bitches

#this was longer than i wanted it to be #whatever lmao #psa #vee~#i'm prob gonna queue this up once or twice and then go on to my regularly scheduled bs tomorrow

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ohblackdiamond · 3 years

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“you win again” fic tidbit (ace/paul, 1988) (pg-13)

I mentioned that this story was in the works awhile back. It’s about 40 percent there, I’d say. I stuck it under a cut because it’s a bit long. There’s a very obvious gap between the second and third parts that needs cleaning up, but the gist is there.

teaser: The truth is, his own distaste for the era makes it obvious he’s not a part of it. Paul can’t keep up with what’s in now, and that’s the surest sign he’s out. Thirty-six is too close to forty. Too old to play the game. He’s square. He’s fucking square.

“you win again”

by Ruriruri

No one knows the man he may become when he loses his self-respect. —Camille

There’s nothing to recommend the Cat Club. The big names don’t come here, just the has-beens. The security’s perfunctory. The parties laughable. But Paul comes anyway. Frequently. All the Cat Club asks out of him is a shave and a bit of halfassed charm, and all he gets in return is a drink and maybe a lay and the vaguest passing memory of the way things used to be.

Studio 54, the Ice Palace, all the old haunts are carcasses. Paul’s heard that the Limelight’s in now, their club owner some one-eyed, painfully straight Canadian, which is a sure sign the scene’s got to be dead in the water. Kids ten, fifteen years younger than him run the promotions. The shit that he remembers, aquariums underfoot at the discotheques, coke handed out at the door, orgies downstairs, all that’s gone. The big clubs get their pull from day-glo bright mascot characters and raunchy freakshows, pure excess that makes for a lousy bedfellow with AIDS and designer drugs. He doesn’t understand the appeal. He gets cynicism; he gets hedonism. But the nihilism he finds utterly repulsive.

The truth is, his own distaste for the era makes it obvious he’s not a part of it. Paul can’t keep up with what’s in now, and that’s the surest sign he’s out. Thirty-six is too close to forty. Too old to play the game. He’s square. He’s fucking square.

The lines on his face aren’t too bad. His cheekbones are maybe more prominent than they need to be. Paul’s watched Gene’s weight fluctuate over the years and hated the way it scared the hell out of him. They’d sworn to each other way back that they’d diet off at least twenty pounds apiece before they’d dare get a real band together. Paul’d kept that weight off, and more, but to Gene, it’s just become another mostly tossed aside tenet. The way he looks doesn’t matter to him. Maybe it shouldn’t anymore. He’s had Cher and Diana Ross and he has Shannon Tweed now. Great girls, all of them, better than the vapidly beautiful women Paul’s tried to make a go of it with. If Gene can attract all of them without giving a shit about his weight or his looks, maybe Paul ought not to care so much.

Except, as always, Gene’s looks just aren’t the appeal. Gene’s being in a band isn’t even exactly the appeal, no; Gene would probably still be stacking away entire albums of Polaroids if he were a senator or a school superintendent. Gene’s appeal is Gene. The total package. Confidence glimmering like grease on a burger.

Paul’s no total package of anything. Some assembly required. Batteries not included. His looks get him into beds, sometimes, and his personality gets him right back out of them before too long. Twenty-one years with Hilsen and there’s still nothing he can do about the latter, but he can at least try to preserve the former.

But what really bothers him about his mirror’s reflection isn’t the age imprinting itself on his face, or the three or four grays he plucks every month, or even the way his hair’s gradually gotten thinner, the curls more like frayed wires, brittle from years of dye and bleach and teasing. It’s the look in his eyes. Sometimes he catches a glimpse of something wholly desperate in them. And it’s not just in scattered, low moments on tour or in the privacy of his own bathroom. He’s caught that look playing back tapes of himself guest-VJing and interviewing on MTV. It’s the look of somebody—somebody scraping for relevance.

He’s ashamed of that. Ashamed because that look got in his eyes so fast, ashamed because he wasn’t able to savor those scant moments of being on top. He remembers thinking ten years ago, so cocky and self-assured, that the Stones were getting sloppy and long in the tooth, that maybe they needed to bow out before they got to be a bigger embarrassment onstage. They’d come out with Some Girls later that year, so what the hell did he know. What the hell did he know about anything.

There’s legends, real legends. Real greatness. There’s rockstars and then there’s rock gods. Chuck Berry. Muddy Waters. The Beatles, the Stones, fuck, even the Beach Boys with their obnoxious California sound created something eternal. KISS hasn’t. KISS won’t. KISS peaked at lunchboxes and pinball machines, and KISS descended—well, KISS is still descending. It’s just a matter of time before Gene lets the whole enterprise fold like a lawn chair.

Too close to forty, Paul takes a seat at an empty table and orders a Pepsi, and he tries to look for a girl the way a security guard might look for a shoplifter. His vantage point isn’t great. The crowd isn’t great. But maybe there’s someone he could waste his time with, someone that would humor him for an evening.

He hasn’t had that in longer than he wants to admit.

Oh, he’s with people. He’s with Samantha, but the age gap depresses the hell out of him. There’s always that tacit understanding between entertainers, anyhow, the knowledge that they’re both going to fool around on each other that goes almost unmentioned. Sometimes he wants to make a clean break of it, start something sincere, whether with her or some other girl, stripped away from the publicity rags, but then his own lonesomeness gets the better of him. Like right now. It’s just not enough to be wanted by one girl when he used to be wanted by thousands. It’s not enough to fill two-thirds of an auditorium when he’d once played Madison Square Garden.

It’s just empty.

He sees a tall, pretty blonde before too long, by herself and practically poured into a sparkling silver dress, hair wildly permed. He’s about to make a move towards her when he hears a sound that stops him dead in his tracks. It’s not so much a laugh as a cackle. He hasn’t heard it in two years at least, but he’d recognize it on his deathbed.

It’s Ace Frehley. Ace Frehley, here at the Cat Club.

Paul’s never known Ace to go anywhere unaccompanied. Now’s no exception. Standing with him is some long-haired guy that Paul doesn’t recognize from the rock scene. Not that that means much, these days. Ace’s arm is looped behind the guy’s shoulders, though the guy doesn’t seem too comfortable with it. Paul purses his lips, trying to gauge their relationship from fifteen feet away, but it doesn’t end up mattering. Ace spots him after not even five seconds, and stumbles to him, with the guy in tow.

“Paul! How are you, man?”

“Ace,” he says, standing up on automatic, reaching for Ace’s free hand. Ace’s palm is damp in his.

“Oh, oh, lemme introduce you, Paulie, this is--” and Ace untangles his other arm from the guy, “this is Gordon. Gordon, y’know who this is.”

“Paul Stanley,” Paul says anyway, offering his hand again. Gordon takes it with all the cursory indifference of being introduced to a fourth cousin at a funeral.

“Gordon plays keyboard,” Ace says. “He’s real good.”

“Cool.” Paul can feel his mouth twist a bit. It’s petty to already be bristling a bit, only a few sentences in, but he can’t seem to stop himself. He’s so used to faking being cordial that the words still come out warmly enough to his own ear. “C’mon, have a seat. Plenty of room.”

“He’s using you.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you care?”

Ace shrugs.

“I’m running low on friends, Paul.” A quick quirk to his mouth. “Maybe you are, too.”

“I only ever had the one.”

“Bullshit. You still got at least three, if you want them.”

“I’ve got a place in California. This is just a rental,” Paul lies. He owns this shitty apartment outright. “My parents are getting older, y’know, it’s good to have somewhere close by. And Ericka--”

“She’s gotta be in high school now.”

“She’s graduating in May.”

“Shit, man.” Ace shakes his head. “Monique’s gonna be eight this year.”

“I’ll send her something.”

Ace waves his hand absently.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“C’mon, let me--”

“You ain’t sent her anything in six years. Don’t start now.” Ace pauses, glancing at Paul in a flickering, fleeting way, and then he shakes his head. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean it bad.”

Paul doesn’t say anything else for awhile, just crosses over to the kitchenette and opens the refrigerator. He takes out two Diet Cokes, handing one over to Ace, who looks at it before handing it back.

“’S fine. I’m not thirsty.”

“I don’t have any alcohol, Ace.”

“I don’t really want it.”

“You don’t?”

Ace shakes his head.

“What do you want?”

“Dinner and a movie, Paulie.” Ace’s mouth quirks up. “Dinner, we’ll have some of your fucking Lucky Charms; movie, we’ll put on an porno.”

“Ace--”

“What’ve you got, anyway?” And he’s scurrying to the T.V. set. Beneath it is his tape player and a few stacks of movies still in their packaging. His workout tapes. And there--

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #paul stanley #ace frehley #ace frehleyxpaulstanley #stehley

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yeocult · 4 years

Text

euphoria | k.hj

genre: angst, inspired by ‘euphoria’

wc: 3.6k words

synopsis: sometimes two people in the universe who aren’t meant for each other find each other

cw: explicit language, unhealthy relationship(?), panic attacks, slight mentions of addictions/meds

—

another sleepless night, another morning, another day.

they all seem the same, and there weren’t anything you could do to help yourself escape this depressing hell hole. there wasn’t anything necessarily bad about your life, but when you hated your brain, the rest is hard to enjoy. then everything else collapses like a long, never-ending domino effect.

suddenly you find your whole days blending together creating one endless and suffocating loop.

exhaustion hits after a couple of hours of dancing, you sat on the concrete steps outside of the building. escaping from the intoxicating atmosphere of obnoxious teenagers filled with emotions and hormones packed together along with the noisy music ringing your ears. you weren’t a huge fan of the dj’s music taste in the first place.

everything felt blurry, you couldn’t make out the lyrics of whatever song was playing from the distance anymore. quietly watching people enter and exit as you quietly sat on the ground, hugging your knees close to your chest.

the feeling is similar to those special effects used in movies or shows; where the character is moving in slow motion, but their surroundings are racing past them while they are stuck in one spot.

the corner of your eyes caught a bright blue hair and you immediately knew who exactly it was. it wasn’t hard to miss hongjoong, especially with his current hair colour.

every year school dances would just be every other regular day. there wasn’t any excitement or joy in prom for you like the other students had found. well, it wasn’t like you had anyone to attend it with, so what’s the point? but this year was a little different. because ever since the new boy came to town, you knew things would not be the same.

never in a lifetime would you see yourself all dressed up, let alone go to school dance. you had to admit, his influence was strong. you found yourself stepping out of your comfort zones more often when he’s around. he insisted to doll you up in anything other than your usual joggers and a hoodie. it was hard to reject his pout, he knew that too.

so you let him do his magic, you could tell he was having a blast playing dress-up with you. loving the way he dressed you up, the two of you even had a mini photoshoot before attending the dance. a new polaroid added to your wall along with the many other memories.

“what’s wrong?” hongjoong took a seat next to you on the steps. his cold fingers slightly brushing your ears, he gently tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear for a better view of your face.

“i fucking hate this town.” you blurted out.

hongjoong snorted at your blunt words, asking if you took anything today and you shook your head. you were dead serious and one hundred percent sober—you’ve been for a while now.

there wasn’t clearly a reason, but when you’ve been living in the same neighbourhood your entire life, you’re bound to grow sick of the place. you could say with your whole chest that this town did fucking sucked ass, but hongjoong made it a little brighter. he flashed you a smile, showcasing his perfect teeth. it was the type of smile that showed he was interested in whatever you were thinking.

“don’t we all? everyone in this town’s so fucking boring. i’d set it on fire and watch it burn to the ground if i could!” your eyes widen when he shouted his brutal thoughts out loud, not caring if the other students were glaring at him with a concerning look. because the last thing hongjoong could give a fuck about, was other people’s opinions.

student’s faces quickly turned away when met with hongjoong’s finger and his smirk. he leaned back spreading his legs out and supporting himself with his hands. he looks up at the sky, admiring the bright stars in the night inhaling the cool summer air.

nothing in the world compares to hongjoong. to you, he was without a doubt, the best thing to exist in life. he was attractive in every way possible. you always joked about how the heavens really took the time crafting hongjoong just to see him smile and burst in laughter. only knowing him for a couple months, you knew for the fact that he’s a fucking great guy.

glancing over to hongjoong, looked stunning tonight, causing you to swallow nervously. his eyes surrounded with glitter with little stars and dressed from head to toe with his most outstanding outfit. normally, his bold choice of fashion would make people turn their heads to him. either with admiration or confusion, sometimes both.

tonight took the trophy. his ears and fingers were decorated with jewellery that made him shine more than he ever did. he never held back on jewellery, “i didn’t poke ten holes in my ears just to cover them up”, he once told you. smiling to yourself at the memories of him flashes through your mind.

remebring just a couple of minutes ago in the dance. loving the way the fuchsia and blue lights softly bounced off of his smooth skin when the two of you were on the dance floor earlier. the orange lights shine bright in the background, complimenting his blue locks beautifully.

when you twirled him around, so would his little half skirt that he wore for this exact reason because he thought it was pretty. he held your waist with his hands, suddenly the world went dark and the only thing that mattered was the person standing in front of you.

even now, when the spotlight isn’t focused on him in the dark, his aura glows brightly like the sun. it makes looking at him for too long will burn you. but to have the sun so close is an honour, even if it burns you.

“it’s just—i’ve been thinking…” you trail off, biting your lips. you started to fidget with your shoelaces, unsure of whether the words you wanted to say was a bad idea. after being around hongjoong for so long, you lost the concept of bad and good. everything around you looked so grey.

ever since hongjoong walked into your life, a lot of your life has changed. that’s just how life is, right? it’s constantly changing, whether we like it or not.

he moved here from the city with his father for a fresh start, things around his small town have been different. was the change a good thing? you weren’t sure nor did you really care. all that mattered was that he made living a little bearable. you wanted to live because of him.

he painted this boring town with his vibrant colours.

the two of you immediately clicked. you’ve never had someone like hongjoong. actually, you never really had that many people in your life, to begin with. you would occasionally join any group of people that would allow you in, but they would all fade away and forgotten within a few weeks. they weren’t memorable.

with hongjoong, you didn’t need anybody else. he was worth millions, and you couldn’t afford to lose him.

you were both broken in your own ways, and yet you both attracted each other like magnets, holding on to each other’s broken pieces. maybe it was how he didn’t judge you no matter how fucked up you can be sometimes. or that he was just as fucked up as you and that you weren’t in the position to judge him either.

although you would never say it out loud, for a short moment, you believed that maybe hongjoong was your soulmate. it was silly of you to even think about it. then again, after watching so many people come and go throughout your life, you yearned for someone who could always be there for you. you craved the stability that you thought hongjoong could give to you.

there was no title that defined the relationship you have with hongjoong. little things he does with you might be couple worthy; how he kisses your lips once in a while, how he would fall asleep in your bed or knock on your window at three in the morning, he would twirl and spin you around in the kitchen like old lovers to some jazz music on your mom’s record player.

what you both have was unclear. after all, you’re both young teenagers who both have a lot to figure out. and teenagers don’t have to point a finger and settle for one person right away. maybe the best choice was to leave it how it is.

nothing more, nothing less. it’s not like you were going to marry him and the two of you could grow grey together happily ever after. it wasn’t that simple. however, it’s nice to have something to dream about, even if it’s for a moment.

hongjoong hummed a tune, letting you continue.

you took a deep breath before letting it all out, “fuck it. what if we, like just fucking left. what if we just went home and packed a bunch of our shit and just bought a ticket, and like went to a new city or something? what if we just ditched this dance—this whole town, and just fucking left?” letting out an exhale after your long ramble.

tilting his head to the side, hongjoong’s eyes widen at your spontaneous idea. “you’re fucking insane.” soon the shock face formed into a mischievous look with a huge grin and glimmering eyes, he liked the idea.

“yeah… you’re right, maybe i am.” you chuckled. looking up at the night sky, looking at absolutely nothing. the sky was clear of stars and the moon wasn’t in sight. “but you aren’t any better.” fuelling hongjoong with your words.

without any hesitation, hongjoong jolted up with excitement and adrenaline flowing through his whole body. “then what are we waiting for?” he grabbed your hand, pulling you up. “let’s get the hell out of here!” laughing in the cool air,

two young souls without a care in the world, rushing towards the unclear future.

the both of you ran without stopping. your feet felt heavier with each step that brought you closer to his home. you held his hand tightly, strengthening your grip every now and then because you were afraid if you weren’t holding on to him tight enough, he would run off leaving you behind.

quietly opening his front door, the two of you tiptoed upstairs to his room making the least amount of noise as possible not to wake up his father who was sleeping in the room down the hall. he roamed around his room, grabbing a duffle bag and stuffing it with as many clothes and other belongings he could possibly fit.

you sat on the edge of his bed, panicky eyes start darting around his room. every time you feel good, you think it’ll last forever, but it doesn’t.

and that’s when it hits you. like an oil truck on the highway going a hundred miles per hour and you just got rear-ended, everything explodes with fire. it hits you that maybe this wasn’t the best decision, you needed more time to think this over.

but it was too late, hongjoong had already filled up his bag and was ready to leave.

feeling the wave of regret drowning you. he could feel your discomfort, it wasn’t hard to read your facial expression. dropping his bag, hongjoong stepped closer, holding your hand in his. he caressed your palm to relieve your nervousness, “we’re gonna be okay.” he says as he planted a quick kiss on your forehead.

there’s this saying that goes something on the lines of, “in the bad times, there will be good times. but that also meant during good times there will be bad times”, that’s what your mother used to tell you. wishing life was as calming as that sounds because if you were being honest, those words cause nothing but confusion.

in a blink of an eye, you two were no longer in his bedroom and hongjoong was already purchasing tickets for the train that was ready for departure in just a few minutes from now. he grabbed your hand and lead the way.

you know you shouldn’t be here, “joong, i just realized i left my phone at home and fuck—i forgot my medication.”

“we could like, get medication anywhere. plus, you could use my phone for now.” hongjoong suggested. there wasn’t any hint of anxiousness in his voice because the truth was, he’d been prepared to leave the moment he steps foot into town.

“n-no…i think if i miss a day that’ll be really fucking bad. and i need to call my mom, a-and what if something bad happens to her when i’m gone?” it’s fucking one o’clock in the morning, you started to stress over how your mother is going to react when you weren’t in your bed. you started to think of all the worst-case scenarios, you couldn’t help it. you owe it to them, you didn’t want to mess up again. one wrong move could fuck up every thing good in your life.

squeezing your hand, “you can always use my phone, okay? we’ll figure it out, i promise.” he reassured you that everything is going to work out well, like he always does. and he never fails to make you feel safe. but this time it didn't feel the warmth of his words like before.

the station was relatively quiet, with only a couple of people around, but your head was banging and noisy. the feeling was overwhelming. your stomach was like an ocean during a bad storm. water sloshing, crashing and hitting all sides, changing the intensity as it gets worse and worse. the heavy smell of gas and the dim lights flickering once a while wasn’t making the environment any better. frantically looking around the station, to the left, right, up, and behind. trying to keep your eyes busy with anything except the path in front of you.

realizing how small you were in this world, with everyone around you so calm while you felt like exploding and breaking down at any moment now. how insignificant your mere existence was, how you could disappear right now and everything would still be the same. the trains would still be running and the days will go on. and hongjoong would still go to the city.

the universe is just out here not giving a single fuck.

you began to panic and second-guess the whole plan. you can’t quite pinpoint the cause of your anxiety, or the cause of your chest pain and mouth feeling dry. all you knew was that this was a mistake, being here with him was a mistake, this whole plan was a mistake. your brain felt as if it was breaking down, being split into two hemispheres.

“joong, i-i don’t, i don’t think this is a good idea.” you couldn’t control how shaky your voice was.

he laughs it off, “but it was your idea.” he didn’t know why you were acting so strange all a sudden. when you offer or sort of just throw the idea out there that, “we could run off and just go to the city and be happy”, of course, hongjoong would jump at that in a heartbeat.

“i-i know it was, it was my idea. but now, i don’t think it’s good anymore, we should—”

“listen,” he cuts you off reassuring your anxiety that everything is going to be okay, “what do you mean? it’s a fucking great idea.” he says with a higher pitch than usual, an attempt to lift up your mood.

that’s because, for hongjoong, this is the most fucking brilliant idea. since he came to town, his life has become increasingly fraught.

hongjoong has been thinking about leaving this town multiple times. not even on his second day of moving to his new house, he had already lashed out at his dad for moving them here and that he rather stayed with his mother who currently lives in the city. maybe he was selfish for that, he just wished things were different.

the one time he left for a couple of days to visit his old friends in the city was the time when you and hongjoong weren’t on good terms, it was an outlet to cool off. experiencing some of the best moments of his life being surrounded by neon lights, busy roads, and his friend’s loud chatter.

it was the best feeling, nobody knew what he was going through. he didn’t have to worry about all the negative thoughts, he didn’t have to overwhelm himself with unnecessary overthinking, he didn’t have that burden on him.

because here, nobody gave a shit. his only worry was which club he would show up that night with his friends.

coming back to the dull town he despises with this whole being after this trip being filled with adventure and high energy only made him crave the city even more. it’s what his friend would call addiction. having a taste of something once, coming off the high, and finding himself craving for more.

hongjoong appears to be glowing after his short visit to the city, you noticed that. it made you yearn to be the type of person he would use to describe his friend, someone he can enjoy the city life with.

he was smothered by the life he lives in the suburbs. he wanted an escape. a reinvigorating trip to the city might be the best for hongjoong.

but for you, all you wanted was to be in the comfort of his bedroom, having his arms wrapped around you as the two of you doze off to dreamland or watching some horrible rom-com tv show that he always failed to stay awake.

those were the peaceful days, the days where your brain wasn’t flooded with thoughts that would weigh you down. you wanted hongjoong to be by your side at all times, even if it seemed selfish.

your feet failed to match his pace. “can we just slow down for a second? i-i’m trying to think. you know, my mom she’s probably freaking out right now. it’s one in the morning, and, and my sister, she won’t see me when she wakes up it’s just i, don’t want her to fucking panic—”

hongjoong stops his tracks for a second, meeting your glossy eyes. you can tell how much this means to him. “look at me,” tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ears for a better look. cupping your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb.

and for a moment, you think that maybe it’s not that bad.

but that feeling was quickly swept away by the train that just arrived, opening its door for passengers. the swift wind blowing hongjoong’s little half skirt just like how it would when you would twirl him around.

“it’s not that far,” hongjoong stressed. his eyes disappear into crescents and gives you a small chuckle too short to be called a genuine laugh. how could he even have the energy to find amusement in a situation like this?

“and like, we’re good, okay? trust me. you can always call or visit them.” he continued his pace towards the train doors.

while hongjoong remain calm and unbothered by the situation, you were frantic and your head was spiralling. you started to think about your family, the look on your mother’s face when she overthinks about your wellbeing and the chance you might not come back. your heart sinks at the thought of your sister’s face when she wakes up the next morning only to find you weren’t in your bedroom.

with each step hongjoong dragged you towards the train’s door, the harder it was for you to breathe. there was no air. it felt like the two of yu were trapped in space and hongjoong was the only one floating while you were gasping for air.

no amount of deep breathes can help you. “yes b-but what the fuck am i supposed to say? they’re gonna think i’m missing—”

hongjoong step foot onto the train, “we’re good, c’mon. it’s gonna be great.” he coaxes you onto the train. you planted your feet on the ground while still intertwined with his hand.

“hongjoong…” there wasn’t much to say anymore, the usual nickname didn’t roll off your tongue as easily as it did before.

deep down, you just wanted to say, “fuck it”, and hop on that train with hongjoong. but the words die down in your throat. as much as you wanted to be the spontaneous, pack-up-and-go person for hongjoong, you know that couldn’t.

you came to realize that getting on that train could do more damage than healing.

hongjoong stumbled in your life without a map or a compass. eventually, he would leave, going back to where he originally belonged. at some point, he would have to make his choice. you loosen your grip on his hand, letting him free. sometimes two people in the universe who aren’t meant for each other find each other.

he grasped your hand back into his grip, you only shook your head telling him that you couldn’t do it. when your tears started to spill over that fact, hongjoong knew he was going to the city alone.

“please,” hongjoong begs from inside of the runaway train. “i love you.” he did. he loved you and you loved him.

still, you refused and let the door close, separating the two of you from each other’s reach. you look at him one last time with glossy eyes and watch the train leave from the platform.

it was all in slow motion, the train speeding past you while you were unable to move your feet. all you could do is watch people come and go and there wasn’t anything you could change.

#ateez #kim hongjoong #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #ateez drabbles #ateez angst #kim hongjoong imagines #kim hongjoong scenarios #kpop scenarios #euphoria #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong scenarios #based off of euphoria so it's not my idea! just saying

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ellib0t · 4 years

Note

Hi! Nice blog. I love Elliot/Mr. Robot, both as a platonic or romantic/sexual relationship. It's so fascinating and unique, and Rami and Christian have amazing chemistry. When did you get into it, and what draws you to it?

Thank you! That means a lot. I wanted to make a space where people like you and myself could find content of these two no matter how they feel about them. I also like them as platonic and sexual/romantic. I want to read and write stories about them in all kinds of scenarios and dynamics.

I’ll put the rest of the answer under a read more because it’s long and gets kinda personal. Forgive me. I may delete it later.

I first started watching Mr Robot back when it aired in 2015 (though I had to torrent it back then;;) I watched the first couple of episodes and at the time I wasn’t in a very good place mentally and I found them very depressing. They didn’t really instill hope. I mostly started watching it because of Rami Malek who I had discovered through a video game called Until Dawn (he did voice and motion capture acting, or at least character rigging for a character called Josh who I related to quite a lot).

A few months later I tried to give season 1 another shot. And this time I found myself hooked. I binge watched it in a couple of days. I saw a lot of myself in Elliot. The childhood trauma and C-PTSD, the isolation and crushing loneliness, the identity issues and dissociation (all things I am currently in therapy for) as well as his journey from childhood to adulthood with technology. I was a very technical minded kid growing up (and I grew up in the 90s much like Elliot) so there were even some stories Elliot tells about coding growing up that I also used to do using our home PC on dial up internet (stealing source code from websites and making them my own for example).

Anyway, fast forward and it’s 2016. At this point I’ve moved out of my depressing and traumatic childhood home and into my own place and my long distance relationship with my boyfriend is now a close one. We move in together. We were sharing various TV shows with eachother and for a while I’d been trying to get us to watch Mr robot together. By the time we did, all of season 1 and 2 were on am@zon pr!me. So we started watching it together. And as we finished…season 3 got put on am@zon too. So we bought a DVD box set of all three to watch them in the best quality possible. The more I watched…the more and more I could relate to. In 2017 I had to leave my tech job due to health issues and I was heartbroken. To go from being on a programming and development team and making a difference to suddenly a nothing…a nobody…was horrible. I was having a relapse in mental health. I was hearing voices, I had terrible paranoia and I was having horrible nightmares and flashbacks to my childhood. Physical sensations and loss of time that I couldn’t explain. It was awful. It started to affect my ability to function with every day life. I was worried it would affect my relationship and so I decided to see help.

One thing that kept me tethered to reality in amongst all of that ironically was thinking about the tv show Mr Robot. Letting myself get lost in that world helped me a lot in reality. Even helped me understand that my condition and the things I was/am experiencing are there because its my body’s and brains way of coping with trauma.

When it comes to Ellibot, the thing I like most about their dynamic is how they work together and also against eachother. Mr Robot is very much the part that does all the dirty work. The stuff that needs doing for the sake of Elliot (the host). He is the confidence. The Ego. The social centre. The impulse control (and sometimes the lack thereof). And the mastermind is very much the loop program that runs until it reaches its goal, if you like. But he’s not without morals. He is all the things Elliot wishes to be. He wishes he didn’t care what people think. He wishes he could read people better. He wishes he had more control over all the bad things that happen, especially to the people he does care about the most. And I think to a degree we all wish we could have powers like that.

I like how red vs blue they are. Mr robot is very brash and doesn’t mind stepping on a few toes (and LOUDLY if he has to) and Mastermind is calculated. When he takes action, he doesn’t make mistakes. And Mr Robot is the little voice on his shoulder that says “you sure that’s right, kiddo? If this all blows up in your face don’t come crying to me! I’ll say I told you so” keeping mastermind on his toes and pushing ever harder towards their common goal. Mr Robot is the fuel to masterminds burning passion to “do the right thing”. Even though sometimes “the right thing” isn’t always the clearest. And in amongst all that fight and angst, they still find time to come together and sooth that part of Elliot that wants to believe that him and his father were best friends. That his father is his protector and never left him.

And yes there are problematics to a few angles of their relationship. A plethora of reasons why someone might not see eye to eye with us shipping these two every which way. But not only is that the beauty of fiction but Mr Robot and Mastermind are separate identities to Host Elliot. And knowing that someone as confident and protecting as Mr Robot and someone as determined as Mastermind could come from such a dark place, has helped me realize that I’m not alone. That I don’t have to be afraid. That I need to be more kind to myself and appreciate the people who have stuck by me in life through all the shit I’ve been through. Mr Robot gave me hope. It still does. And I hope it gives you hope too.

#asks #long #text #hellofriend.txt #personal #ask

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dragon-zena · 5 years

Text

all your troubles in my hair

Fandom: Mob Psycho 100

Relationship: Serizawa Katsuya/Reigen Arataka

Characters: Serizawa Katsuya, Reigen Arataka, Kageyama “Mob” Shigeo, Kageyama Ritsu, Kageyama Siblings’ Parents, Dimple

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, reigen has horrible coping mechanisms: the fic, Spoilers for Chapter 100, OVA spoilers, Anxiety, Depression, Therapy

Summary: Neither of them are naïve enough to believe that love is meant to solve all of their internalized issues.

Read it on AO3!

Neither of them are naïve enough to believe that love is meant to solve all of their internalized issues.

They both have bad days; it's not something that really comes to a surprise to Katsuya, especially after months of being together.

Katsuya has days where he feels like he's been in a loop, a dream that he'll wake up from, still stuck in his childhood bedroom. Sometimes, he smells the trash, the dirty laundry. He sits up in bed, and there's nothing but white noise under his skin, roaring in his ears. Days where he wants to lock himself in the bathroom, hands shaking.

As time goes on, he has less and less of these days, but even still, sometimes he'll be riding the train with Arataka, towards an apartment that they share more often than not, and he'll look out of the window, admiring just how bright the moon is. And then he'll look at Arataka, leaning into his side with an old newspaper, and he'll watch those long eyelashes flutter as he skims each page, right to left, and there is a small flicker of fear within him—the thought that he might lose experiences like these, again, someday.

And while he's honest about his feelings, sometimes—ironically enough—he just wants to lock them up in a room and throw away the key. When the nights are harder to sleep through, nightmares chasing him into wakefulness, Katsuya almost feels frustrated, angry.

Arataka notices (he always notices), and Katsuya can't ever decide if he wants his boyfriend to ask about whether he wants to talk, or if he would rather be left alone. Whatever he chooses always feels like the wrong answer. He doesn't know if there is a right answer, not after days where he lies in bed feeling awful about a comment made with more snark than usual, or days where he can't make himself speak, at all, days where only the wrong things come out of his mouth. Arataka never takes it personally, but it fills Katsuya with inexplicable vitriol.

He's been working on all of it, having found a therapist that actually understands him after years of having to interact with therapists that he felt never gave a shit about him. He's started to categorize his days, coping by journaling his moods and triggers, what makes him feel this way. What makes him feel better, what feels safe for him. It helps.

Arataka doesn’t have a therapist, doesn’t think that he needs one. It’s something that used to bother Katsuya, the thought that maybe Arataka thought that only certain people needed a therapist—that maybe he thought he was too good for one. But the longer that he experiences loving him, the more he realizes that the man is doing his damnedest to just internalize his issues and move on as though they don't exist. Katsuya thinks that maybe Arataka feels as though if he ignores his problems, he’ll be more credible to the people that need his help. If he ignores his problems, he won’t take up space and resources from people that “deserve it” more than he does.

If he ignores his problems, he’ll still be useful to someone, his accomplishments won’t be stripped away by whatever makes him wake up in cold sweats, whatever makes his face twitch minutely out of its normal placid expression, gone so fast that a stranger might think that they imagined it.

Katsuya is no stranger.

He can see it whenever Arataka gets too caught up in his newspaper on the train home, the way that he tenses up when Katsuya stands to get off, expecting him to follow. The way that Arataka suddenly jumps at the movement, quickly snatching one of Katsuya’s sleeves with wide, faraway eyes. The way that he can’t seem to settle when he’s without something to read, nothing to keep his mind off of the rattling of the train, the screech of the vehicle coming to a stop, the train cabin being thrown into darkness as they pass through a tunnel or under a bridge. The way that he’s always the last person to board the train and the first person off. The way he refuses to fall asleep, even when Katsuya offers him his shoulder.

He sees it in the aftermath of Shigeo’s last explosion. The two of them had waited with Shigeo and Dimple until his parents came to get him. Ritsu had reached them first, of course, and was promptly pulled into a hug by his older brother. The two of them let themselves feel for a few minutes, and Dimple hadn’t been too keen on leaving the two of them alone for a while, settling himself on top of Shigeo’s head like a languid cat. He was looking a little worse for wear, himself, small and a paler green than what he was before he disappeared.

Once the Kageyama parents arrived, Arataka had pushed himself up from his haphazard crouch, using Katsuya as a crutch and biting the inside of his cheek to stifle any pained sounds he made. He smiled genuinely, eyes glassy, and conversed quietly and respectfully with Shigeo’s parents, holding their children so closely. Returned their gratitude for the opportunity to know Shigeo when they had thanked him for looking after their son. Dimple had given Katsuya a significant look over Shigeo’s head when Arataka’s voice cracked, and he had nodded, eyebrows knitting together. When Shigeo had pulled Arataka into a hug before leaving, the man looked prepared to cry, again, and when Katsuya had lifted his young friend into a bear hug, telling him that he was so glad that he was safe, that he had come to a conclusion that made him feel at peace with himself, Shigeo had nodded, clutching him tighter, but he, too, had subtly asked Katsuya to look over his shishou. And Katsuya had nodded again, ruffling his hair and watching as he walked away with his parents.

It left Katsuya and Arataka alone. Not that it mattered, because the moment that the Kageyama car disappeared, Arataka had collapsed to his knees, wheezing in pain. Eyes bleary, he managed a raspy “I can’t afford any hospital bills, right now” before passing out, eyes rolling back into his head. Katsuya only panicked a little, hurriedly bundling him up in his arms and beginning to make his way back from whence the two of them came. With Arataka unconscious, buried in Katsuya’s arms, he had been able to start digesting what happened once he had let the other man walk into Shigeo’s tornado. He thought about how dangerous (and brave, but mainly dangerous) the choice Arataka made was, how quickly he had lost sight of him in the cycle of dusty wind and debris. He thought about what Arataka had planned to leave behind.

The suit jacket. The dress shoes.

They never discuss it fully, not for lack of trying. It’s just, well.

Arataka throws himself into his work, deflecting “personal problems” when they’re working, invested strictly into his mask of professionalism, even when there are no clients. The first time Katsuya tried to push him into talking about his emotions, the man began to talk circles around him, so quickly and with so much anxious fervor that Katsuya ended up at a loss of words, mind swimming. It only occurred to him later that Arataka had told him practically nothing, and he tried not to get frustrated about it. Katsuya subtly asks him about getting help and acknowledging his feelings multiple times, but the only other time that he pressed Arataka led to an argument that lasted for at least a week before they apologized to each other, and by then, it seemed as though the man had developed at least five more different coping mechanisms, none of them even remotely helpful. His sleep schedule has become absolutely ridiculous, and sometimes Katsuya sees his hands twitch for the emergency cigarettes that he keeps in the bottom drawer of his desk. He never goes for it, but he lately seems stressed enough to cave more sooner than later.

Sometimes, Arataka just parks himself next to Katsuya, back straight. He’s not close enough to comfortably reach for, but he’s there.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's Friday, and Katsuya can count on his hands the number of hours of sleep that Arataka has gotten throughout the entire week. Not only that, but something must have been happening to make almost every client that entered Spirits & Such unnecessarily hostile. At some point earlier, his boyfriend had attempted to call Shigeo, ask him if he wanted to come with them for "ramen or something, it’s up to you, really, Mob," but Shigeo had already made other plans. Arataka said that he hadn’t minded, and he probably didn’t, committed to the concept of “not distorting” anyone else with his presence. Even still, his smile seemed a little tighter after hanging up, informing Katsuya that it would just be them, tonight.

Arataka sits stiffly on the other side of the couch, and Katsuya acts like he’s not watching him through his peripheral while working on his math homework. He doesn’t know when he’s going to use this. Remembering Arataka’s frequent complaints about math, he opens his mouth to tell this to him, hoping to make the silence a little less unbearable. But the sight before him makes him pause, words caught in his throat.

His boyfriend is crying silent tears, lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed, nose crinkled. He makes no move to wipe his face, and Katsuya doesn’t think that he notices that he’s been caught until he moves a little closer, making him jump, head swiveling to stare at Katsuya. They both grimace at each other, an understanding passing between them, despite Arataka’s clear embarrassment at being caught crying.

“Arataka,” Katsuya breathes out, scooting a little closer to his boyfriend and cupping his face into his hands, thumbs doing their best to wipe away tears that don’t appear to be stopping anytime soon. “What do you need?”

Arataka curls in on himself, averting his eyes away from Katsuya’s worried face. He sniffs as though trying to suck the tears and snot back up, and Katsuya tries not to wince, heart clenching.

Arms wrapped around himself, Arataka admits, voice quavering, “I think I need help.”

It’s quiet, small and brittle, but it’s there. Katsuya pulls his lover into his arms, presses his head gently into the junction of his shoulder and neck, kisses his temple sweetly. “I’ll help you,” he says. “We can help each other.”

Arataka says nothing, but he presses a little harder into Katsuya. It's not long before the man falls asleep, exhausted. Katsuya kisses the crown of his head, buries his nose into coarse brown strands.

Neither of them are naïve enough to believe that love will solve all of their internalized issues, but Katsuya watches Arataka sleep, and he thinks, warmth blooming in his chest, "Thank god we have each other." It doesn’t take long for him to follow Arataka’s lead.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #serirei #serizawa katsuya #reigen arataka #my writing #gurgles #i amn just a little projector...i canmot chang this

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thisiskindagross · 6 years

Text

Better late than never. Here’s your question dump for some things y’all have been curious about. I did 55 questions.

1. why does heaven get to distribute death sentences to the Fallen if they decide to directly serve satan? I'm talking about what happened with ipos and sheila. Did the fallen have to sign a contract or something saying they cant talk to satan after the fall? why would heaven even care, since the fallen chose to leave heaven on their own free will and aren't their business anymore?

Heaven’s strange in the sense that they give themselves that authority. They are aware that the Fallen follow Satan and have pledged their allegiance to him, so they don’t care if they have contact with him; however, there are a select few Fallen that Heaven doesn’t want talking to Lucifer about certain things. Ipos was one of those people. They pretty much told him not to discuss anything involving Heaven as a whole, or giving Lucifer any help to give him an edge during the Apocalypse or else they’d punish or kill them depending on how severe the information was. So Ipos finding out about the Horsemen and where they were and telling Lucifer was a big enough deal to Heaven for them to shut him down.

2. So Michael fights with a torch, Zad fights with a knife, and Chamuel fights with two short sickles. Do the other archangels have distinct weapons like these? If so, what are they?

Uriel has God’s light, Gabriel has a spear, and Jophiel has the wheels of fire on his ankles since he’s the fastest angel. Raphael doesn’t have a troop to command so he’s not great at fighting, but he does have something that comes up in the Memory Arc later that he uses.

3. I noticed during the "Wager" update that Pestilence has a scar going down her back. How did she get it?

This is kinda not released yet so I’ll be vague, but it’s not so much of a scar as it is an orifice.

4. We know that Zadkiel put Satan's summoning symbols on a pad to "protect him during the End of Days", but why specifically? Like did Zadkiel know that Natalie was the prophecy child from the get-go and wanted to get her on Luce's side? Or was it just to delay the fight between him and Michael?

They did not know specifically Natalie was the prophecy child, it was more of a gamble. It was done to delay the fight because Michael isn’t the kind of person to harm someone in a contract, so the unlucky person who got contracted to Satan was like a temporary meat shield so to speak.

5. About how far are we into the story you envisioned telling?

This is hard to answer cuz I have something planned at a later date, but I’d say a decent amount in.

6. Which of the angels/demons would be the best with kids? I feel like Anthea and Gabriel would be great parents tbh

Gabriel, Chamuel, Anthea, Uriel, to name a few.

7. what's titus' birthday?

October 23. I believe I said a different date in a stream once, but I changed my mind and set this as the official date.

8. Has Michael ever been put in the Tank? What was his reaction?

He has never been in the Tank before.

9. Why wasn’t Raphael punished for healing Natalie at Oregon? He helped out the "other side" too, it wasn't just Gabe. Did Michael never find out about Raphael's involvement? Or DID he know and he just chose to punish Gabe because he's the one that dragged Raphael into the situation? Love your work btw!

Michael knew Raphael was involved, but I think a little bit of him was sympathetic since he had been stabbed and poisoned and was on his death bed not long before this.

Since I haven’t publicly explained what the Tank is or does yet, I have to be vague. But Raphael is the only angel in Heaven forbidden from even going near the building where they keep the Tank. There is actually a sign on the door and guards forbidding Raphael from entering the building. Since Raphael is the only healer of Heaven and he’s a very depressed/easily influenced person, the higher ups don’t think the Tank would be a beneficial punishment for him.

10. How did Raguel get his job? Like what about him stood out to Heaven? Does he just hide his sociopathic tendencies well lol

Raguel was created purposefully with the intent of being a replacement angel if one of the Archangels were to die. The Higher Ups asked God to make them an angel as a sort of “test run” angel and he reluctantly agreed.

The Higher Ups want angels to have very little interest outside of their jobs, and not be emotionally fueled. Raguel’s literally the first attempt at a prototype of an “emotionless” angel that will only obey orders.

They’re going to find out that that’s not the case with him later.

11. Are you planning any couples?

There will be some couples, there will be some “flings” that don’t last, there will even be some children. But that stuff’s very far away UuU

12. Hi （〜^∇^)〜 In the beginning, did you plan for Satan and Me to just be comedy and then you came up with the plot or did you have the plot in mind when you started the comic ? (By the way, I love this comic and the others you create (♥ω♥*) Keep up the good work and take as much time as you need to do so, we fans will always support you ( ˘ ³˘)♥)

I just doodled, though I had no interest in keeping it a comedy. I like drama/angst with comedic and romantic elements. But no, I just went with whatever came into my head when I sat down.

Thank you for the support!

13. does hell know that a part of natalie is still there?

Yes, it knows.

14. Do you plan what you're going to write on each page or do you make it up as you go along?

I sit down and whatever happens, happens. I let the story dictate itself.

15. is god going to show up again in this arc or is he just staying in his lane?

I have no intention of God showing up again this arc, but anything’s possible.

16. I'm curious about the significance of characters that have the black iris but the colored pupil. Is that to show that the characters are more reserved, bc I've seen you do it with both Raph and Francisco and they're both on the quiet side

Pure coincidence, my friend UuU

17. I don't know if you'll see this or if it'll be answered/has been answered already but- I was just wondering if perhaps we would be seeing War again before the comic ends? I really enjoyed his character, even though he's a little shit.

You will see War again in the Memory Arc.

18. It seems like Kristi is always with Laila, but now a sleeping bag? Is Kristi's home life okay or is it just a sleepover?

Just a sleepover. Kristi takes some comfort clinging to Laila because Laila is calm and collected. She’s scared all the time since meeting Satan so she clings to Laila since she doesn’t know anyone else who is aware about supernatural beings, except for Natalie.

19. How are Michael and Gabe right now I'm really worried about them!!!

Michael is upset about Lucifer’s wings and Gabriel is just getting his thoughts together after being in the Tank.

20. Will uriel ever find out that he basically killed anthea?

Yes. Gabriel confronts him later.

21. Sorry if you've answered this before because I couldn't find it but what does Zadkiel identify as? I know the angels and demons refer to them as she and they were a woman up in heaven (if I'm correct) but down on earth they've seemed to have favored a male form which I find really cute (and hope they continues to use throughout the comic sometimes) so yeah! Also if they are annoy would they be considered transgender or is that not a thing for the angels and demons? Hope you feel better Orange!

Zadkiel was originally intended to be written as genderfuid, but it worked out with them being nonbinary. I don’t believe they go by a specific male or female gender, but they do prefer the male form because it’s the form that they have the best success of making people submit with, unfortunately.

I wouldn’t call Zadkiel transgender in canon, but y’all can headcanon anything you want. Go nuts! :~)

22. can demons and angels procreate with people? like why else would they have nuts to kick? or is just the body they're in?

They can procreate; however, it is illegal to procreate with humans. They would be executed as well as the human and child they procreated with an conceived.

23. Here's the real question everyone should be asking. Where is Natalie's black bow/headband thing?

Perhaps it needs to make a comeback.

24. Is Raphael still using "borrowed time"? Will that be touched on later in the comic?

Yes he is, and yes it will be.

25. Will Zoè and Chamuel ever get some screen time together? Like it says in their profile that they're dating but Ive seen each of them like once or twice and on separate occasions

Yes, they will.

26. WAIT! Why has no one asked this? What happened to Carla after the hospital situation?!

Michael delivered her back to her housing district in Heaven and left it at that.

27. For some reason the Here It Comes comic account is marked as sensitive content suddenly. Is there anything you or myself could do about it?

While Satan and Me is relatively tame, Here it Comes is Mature in every sense of the the word. That blog has been set as a mature blog so you’d need to manually go into your settings to turn the safety off and you can see it again :~)

28. Have you ever considered submitting a pitch bible to like Cartoon Hangover of Mercury Filmworks before? You have plenty of content and support! They could probably make SaM and even some of your other stories into animations n stuff?

Tbh I have no idea who those people are lol I’m out of the loop with stuff like that.

29. Does Gabriel have any crushes atm or that will develop?

Gabriel’s still stuck on Anthea right now.

30. quick question about ipos' book. does it reveal stuff about the future like the real ipos he's based off of or is it just this big encyclopedia?

This is more like an encyclopedia he made to help Lucifer. He was good networking and digging stuff up so it’s a highly sought after book.

31. If you don't mind me asking, do you ignore asks sometimes? Like, questions about the comic? It's fine if you do, but I wanted to confirm because I've sent a few questions before that were never responded to and I wasn't sure if they were received and just not answered or if my computer messed up sending them (which it does a lot).

I do sometimes if I know it will be explained later in the series. But for the most part I get a lot of asks and can’t address them all, and I don’t want to clog the blog with asks. So I do these question dumps from time to time so it’s more organized.

32. In "No More Angels" how did Titus know Uriel was an archangel? Just from the sound of his voice? Uriel mentioning Raphael and Satan in the first panel might answer my question but I wasn't sure if he was just talking to himself or not.

Titus could feel stronger auras from people. They gave him headaches growing up, a sort of “side effect” of self preservation from Cain’s curse. He also did a lot of research and had seen a couple of supposed sightings of angels. Uriel happened to be one of those of the two he knew about.

33. you said that satan hates humans and sees them as beneath him and lower than dirt. how does this compare with how he sees natalie, since she is a human?

I’m sure he struggles with that from time to time, but her pros outweigh her cons. It’s shown sometimes in the series that he doesn’t like humans and finds a lot about them unappealing, exp: anytime she cries or drools or has a runny nose and he calls it leaking.

This will be touched upon later in the next Arc. Natalie isn’t just some positive kid who swayed an ancient heart. There is another element to it but I can’t say it right now.

34. Does the devil ever get self-conscious about all the different depictions of himself and now he may or may not be able to live up to some of them?

It frustrates him a lot, but he can’t really do much about it.

35. I know you've had S&M planned out for a long while, but do you ever get to an arc and it just veers off wildly in a new direction? Or does it always get back to where you're going somewhere down the line?

Key elements stay the same, but yes, the events and characters just do what they want and I get surprised sometimes how different it turns out than originally intended.

The warehouse scene with Jericho and Natalie using her contract was out of left field and I was like “What the fuck are you saying?!” when Natalie used it because the original goal was to keep them contracted till the very end of the series. Sometimes stuff like that happens lol But it works out and I love it.

36. In The Beginning, when Zad defected, Michael blamed Lucifer, and Lucifer made him think he'd actually been controlling Zad's actions. But I noticed Michael was all betrayed and surprised when that happened, so my question is, did Michael still have some sort of faith or trust in Lucifer until the Zadkiel incident? Cuz that seemed to prompt this character shift in Michael where he got broodier and less trusting?

I think Michael struggles with his denial about his brother. He’s floating on a blurred line of who he remembers Lucifer being and who he is in the present. The incident with Zadkiel made him a bit broodier because even though Lucifer’s an asshole, Michael never thought he’d stood so low as to blood poison his siblings. So that surprised him how cavalier he was being about taking credit for this. Like he lost some respect for Lucifer then.

37. I have a question. Back in the beginning, there was that one day when Satan was all happy cuz he said it was game day and the world was gonna end. And then we went on this whole journey that ended in Run and basically didn't talk about it again. So why didn't the world end?

Game day meant that date was to start the beginning of the Apocalypse. Both sides were free to do anything they wanted, as agreed upon by Heaven, the Fallen, the Horsemen, and God. Before that they were coexisting but all parties going forward from that date were going to actively try to fuck over each other and drag humanity into it.

38. I was rereading the entire comic (cuz jesus fuck I can't stop) and I found a thing. Before Run, Satan was always reading this blue book, and Nat would bust in and ask him a question or something. But the book always looked exactly the same. So was there anything particularly important about that book, or was it just always there?

It’s his favorite book. He has limited access to entertain himself stuck in Natalie’s home, so he’s reread the same books over and over.

39. I noticed something. We've seen a bit of pre-fall Lucifer, and he looks different from both 'Stan' and the Satan we usually see now. Is there a reason he doesn't take his angel form anymore?

Pre-Fall Satan is tiny. It’s not intimidating enough, so Lucifer chooses to not take that form. He actively puts energy all day to maintain his bigger form, and would do so even fighting Michael, despite the fact if he reverted to his original form he would have more energy to fight. If he gets hurt badly enough or gets mentally compromised you can see him start regressing to his original form.

40. Okay, so I was wondering. In that first arc when we met everybody, you could tell that Michael had been trying to catch up with Lucifer for a while, but he was also the one who ripped his wings off and threw him out. So I was curious, what was their first encounter after the fall like? And how did they get to that point?

Their first substantial encounter after the Fall is a story in the Bible where they argue over Moses’ dead body. They had casually run into each other before that but made no direct contact other than eye contact across a crowd.

Michael and Lucifer have had minimal contact since the Fall, hence why Satan’s reactions to Michael’s presence early on usually resorted in shocked anger and beating the shit out of him. How much contact they’ve had since Natalie came into the picture hasn’t happened since pre-Fall.

41. Was Death created by God after or at the same time humans were created? Why does he hate Satan so much?

God created Death when he created the angels. He needed a mediator or a balance of sorts, since he established life he needed Death for consequences.

Death hates Satan because he taught his followers how to make contracts with humans and disrupt where their souls were going. Death is very particular about his job and Satan interferes too much. He also thinks he’s smug, entitled, and pompous. Which he is, so you can’t really fault him on that lol

42. Hey orange, I'm not sure if this'd be spoilers or not, but is hellLuci a soul or a personification of hell or something? Who is he? And why hasn't he tortured Nat or something?

“Hell Satan” is a conglomerate of human souls taking Lucifer’s form to bother Natalie and gain her trust to mess with her. These souls do that to Lucifer too occasionally, where it takes Natalie’s form now it used to take Michaels. Pretty much whatever a close person is to Satan or Natalie, it morphs to it.

The main soul that usually talks the most when in Hell Satan’s form used to be a human named David, but since Hell fuzes souls together as one unity, it’s not likely he has any sense of individuality, just personality traits. Such as intrigue in long hair, as well as playing mind games.

Hell Satan takes its time before going straight into depravity, hence why when Natalie’s soul was removed from Hell, it was even willing to risk being pulled under into the lake to get her back. It feels robbed, and that’s a good way to get an immediate reaction from Hell.

43. Is Satan's desperately thinking of asking Michael to help him because he's scared and he didn't mean for this to happen and he doesn't know what to do and he's lost and HE NEEDS HIS BIG BROTHER, a further sign of Natalie causing him to revert to the part of his nature that cares for others like he used to back when he and Michael were close????? Also Natalie made a bet in the early chapters were she said she'd get him to care about one person before the end of the world, does he remember that?

Yes, he remembers that. And yes, Satan’s go to to fix something if he ever thought he couldn’t would be to seek out Michael for help. It’s not intentional, but it’s his first instinct before he represses it. Boy needs to get out of denial.

44. I saw the Group SaM Asks, but, I really wanted to ask if angels could still date humans? or be around them frequently, like Michael and kristi?

You can be around them but you cannot date them, marry them, have children with them. It’s also an unspoken rule to keep your identity a secret.

45. Why was Satan the only angel in heaven to not have any piercings? Did that have something to do with why he was able to rebel?

God gave “special case” angels no piercings, in a way of hinting that something was going to go down with a particular angel. Most angels noticed the ones without piercings, but didn’t know what it meant till after the fall. Now any angel without a piercing is looked at suspiciously, just in case.

46. I'm in a lot of fandoms who the fandom is very lighthearted but the fangroup is very dark *cough me cough * but this fandom here is talking about FREAKING SATAN and the fangroup is so lighthearted and is joking,playing pranks, ...I have to ask HOW?!

I don’t know, but it’s my favorite thing in the world

47. Based off of his reaction, was Hell's chatter constant (like 24/7) even when Lucifer's seals weren't leaking?

Yes, it was never ending whispers/static in his head. When Natalie shut it off he was in shock for a while and zoned out for a bit because he wasn’t used to silence.

48. What was laila's natural hair color?

Very light brown.

49. So I'm curious, what ever happened to Max's biological father? He and Carla divorced, but then what? Is he still part of Max's life? Did he die? Did he mutate into a zombie and become an extra on the Walking Dead? Sorry if this has already been asked, btw

He’s a deadbeat. Teen father, too hard, walked out. Not really part of the picture.

50. IT BREAKS MY HEART HOW MICHAEL STILL INVITES HIM EVERY YEAR. The relationship between Michael and Lucifer is almost as big a part of the comic as Lucifer and Natalie and it's seriously heartbreaking. Could you maybe just talk a little about that?

Michael was the first angel Lucifer connected with. Michael was always very bubbly and lighthearted, which is a personality trait Lucifer gravitates towards. They were virtually inseparable and did everything together. So when Lucifer rebelled Michael took that extremely hard. He wasn’t ordered to physically retaliate when the Fallen were leaving, but he was emotional and angry and felt betrayed so he ordered the Fallen to have their wings removed if they were caught before they were kicked out so they couldn’t come back into Heaven.

Despite both of them saying they don’t care about each other anymore, it’s kinda obvious that it’s a lie. Lucifer doesn’t like seeing Michael because of old memories so he avoids him or tries to lash out/hurt him when he does see him to make himself feel better.

Natalie is the first person Lucifer developed a very close emotional bond with since Michael, and Michael is very jealous of that. Natalie and Michael are two people who aren’t aware of it that are competing in Lucifer’s heart.

51. I just noticed in the most recent doodle dump on tapastic, there's one drawing of Natalie and lucifer kissing and lucifer is crying and his back is bleeding, and I thought it was a little weird that that "doodle" had a full background and everything. I was wondering if that was possibly the original idea for after Natalie came back to life and just got scrapped in favor of a more heartbreaking story line??

No, that was for April Fools and I let people request pairings and Natan was requested so I drew that since the current plotline at the time was so angsty lol

52. so does pax just have a lot of libido or does he actually experience sexual attraction? just curious!

Both? I mean, he’s not picky with women. He just likes to hook up and whatever’s convenient at the time is good enough for him. However, he does have preferences and traits he prefers over others, so if given the option of fuckin Girl A who possesses 30% of his favorite traits or Girl B who possesses 80% of his favorite traits, he’d try for Girl B first if that makes sense.

53. for the question dump: what is natalie's academic life like? like what's her GPA and has it lowered since she got involved with this end of days business? shes a senior, so was she planning on going to college? if so, what did she wanna major in? loaded question but i've always been curious

She had a relatively high GPA. She put a lot of effort into school, and tutored some classmates. Since she’s missed a lot of school her grades did go down, but not to the point that she won’t graduate if she gets at least Cs in her classes.

She is planning on going to college but not immediately. She’s a biology major.

54. No mean to sound rude or anything like that, it's just a suggestion, but don't you think it would be better for you to have an assistant to help you for your comics?

I would, but sadly I cannot pay them anything, and I have an odd schedule so it would be too erratic to keep in touch with someone. I also don’t have anyone I trust giving access to the comic with that much authority atm, so for now it’s just gonna be lil old me :’~)

55. Michael and Lucifer break my heart (I can relate, God). And this is kind of a huge deal now since we've got Michael feeling nostalgic about Lucifer and freaking out cause of his wings, so I have to ask: which of them is angrier at the other? And is there any chance of forgiveness on either side??? I care about this much more than I should and I need to knooooow!!! Help me Orange

Mmm... Angrier.... Idk, they’re both angry for different reasons. Currently in the comic atm I’d say Lucifer is angrier, since Michael is now just ensconced in grief over the wings. When he processes that we’ll see what stance he takes and if that sanded any of his rough edges or not.

Forgiveness is up to them UuU They’re both alike in how stubborn they are.

#asks #admin #satan and me #satanandmeupdates #question dump

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maryellencarter · 6 years

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What is your middle name? -- You know, about a year ago in a D&D session, I was attempting to sass the big bad (I’m much better at sass when I have time to think about it, D&D is such a time pressure that I’ve wound up playing much more of a strong silent type than I intended), and I said “Defiance is my middle name” and the DM wound up making Defiance the name of the country my character is from. Which is a delightful sort of NYC/Vegas mashup, quite different from Defiance, Ohio. ^_^ Also the capital city is called Skreuyu (pronounced, of course, Screw-you). :D

What are you passionate about? -- Dear god. What aren’t I passionate about? O_O I could attempt a brief and incomplete list, but this is a long meme anyway. ;-) Besides, you’re here, you’ll hear about it all sooner or later. XD

Zebra or leopard print? -- Either one, but only if it’s in day-glo neon rainbow colors. And not to wear, particularly. Fake-fur blankets and pillows, mostly. Lisa Frank was... a formative influence. ^_^ If I ever have money to actually decorate a place of my own, it’s gonna look very much like Wes Janson decorated it, although possibly with fewer Ewoks. (I do have a BB-8 penny bank, though.)

Do you have any fears? -- Honestly, at this exact moment, I’m too damn sleep-deprived to know. XD When I’m awake it’s probably social anxiety stuff. When I wake up at 4am tomorrow in my car, I may or may not be having the kind of weird quasi-psychotic fears that come with a certain level of sleep deprivation, where I’m suddenly convinced my laptop is going to eat me. Right now, nothing especially comes to mind.

Silver or gold? -- To wear? Gold. My skin corrodes silver. But as a color, I like silver better.

Top three places to visit? -- Ooh. Um. That I’ve been to, or not? I want to go back to Washington DC, and someday I want to be extremely sane and go back to Indiana, and someday I’d like to go back to the Black Hills and see all the geology tourism things, because the only one I saw as a kid was Mount Rushmore, which is more of a colonialism tourism thing. That I’ve not been to... Scotland, maybe? And Hawaii and Yellowstone, again for the geology nerdery? I feel like there are places I’ve very specifically wanted to go someday that I’m blanking on.

Where are you from? -- Indiana, once upon a time. Love the place, cannot deal with the people. Miss the snow. And the autumn leaves. And the library.

First career you wanted as a child? -- Paleontologist, best I can remember. Some things stay pretty constant. I don’t have the physical health to be a geologist anymore, if I ever did, but damn, I still want to take some more classes or keep up with the field somehow.

What’s your sign? -- You know, I’m not being bothered with this at the moment. I’m sure it’ll come up in a reblog pretty soon, I do those memes a lot.

Future names of your children? -- I refuse to have any. Five generations my bio-family has fucked up, all by trying too damn hard not to be their mothers. I will be a weird adopted relative and not name anybody anything.

What are you listening to right now? -- A fifteen-minute instrumental cover of “Turkey in the Straw”, to block out the myriad noises of the fast food place so I can think words. I’ve been looping it for hours and I’ll presumably be looping it for hours more.

Do you believe in fate/destiny? -- I have a lot of weird conflicting opinions about things like fate and destiny. I think if the universe is being... directed, by a god or fate or destiny or anything with intelligence or purpose, it’s an asshole and ought to be punched. It’s not actually any less depressing if the universe is being run by random chance and just happens to shake out in ways that make it seem like it’s being run by an asshole, but it’s less angering. *tries to word* I do get the feeling, the... desire for shit to have a purpose and to make sense, but a big part of me thinks that’s pareidolia or something related. It’d be nice if all this bullshit was eventually gonna shake out to me being either a stable human being or an epic hero, but I strongly doubt it. (And even if it did, a smart enough god should be able to get me there with less suffering, if it wanted to. So at minimum, if there’s a fate or god or destiny directing me, it’s either sort of incompetent, or motivated by priorities like taking the most direct route rather than minimizing the chances for me to die along the way, or it’s kind of a sadist. Sorry, I have Feelings about this one.)

Ethan, however, has a take that I think is... relevant, to the state of the world at the moment. He thinks the specifics of the world at any given time are all determined by chaos and random motion, but that there’s a cosmic balance between... stuff that’s very hard to give names to. “Good and evil” is part of it. “Order and entropy” might be a little closer. “Light and darkness”, whatever. But there’s this cosmic balance, and if, say, the Forces of Evil or whatever you want to call them... if something pushes too hard in one direction, tries to make one side win, the universe is gonna bounce back. There’s always gonna be that push-pull. Lots of people can get hurt or killed in the process, but because Ethan and I both read LOTR at formative ages, where we wind up at is the line “They cannot conquer forever”. You can’t have... you can’t get stuck. This is probably terribly Manichaean or something of us, but right now that’s the best I can word. That there’s always gonna be the thing you are Against, but there’s also always gonna be the thing you are For, even if one of them gets pretty squished for a while.

What are your career goals? -- Sometimes what you want to be when you grow up is “paid”. ;P I’d like to reach a point where I never have to ask the internet for money again, while continuing to be alive, and maybe can even give other people money. Help support my friends, travel around doing meetups, go to conventions or whatever, maybe do some cosplay. What exact job I’d be doing, Chaos only knows.

What is your favorite color? -- Blue. Royal blue, midnight blue, cobalt blue. Often with stars on.

What is your favorite flower? -- Uh. I’m gonna say these little striped white and purple crocuses that would come up through the snow in the spring? I loved those.

What was the first concert/show you attended? -- The Monkees 45th anniversary reunion concert. I said at the time that I’d blown five years of luck on the improbable string of coincidences that led to me getting there, but I’m so damn glad it happened, because I enjoyed it immensely, and Davy Jones died before what would have been their 50th. And hey, that was 2011, maybe I’m accumulating some luck again. ;-)

Something you are working on right now? -- This meme? XD In more general terms, reblobbenating some really old posts from my previous blog, as well as filling up my queue from same. It’s pretty slow going.

Have you ever had a near-death experience? -- Not the sort where you see a tunnel of light or go out of your body. Just the kind where you nearly die. :P

Are you a procrastinator or do you get things done early? -- Pfffft. Time management is something that happens to other people. ;P Occasionally I do get something done right away, but mostly it’s the night before deadline, or sometimes the night after. o_O Maybe when I have some spoons I’ll be better at that.

Left or right handed? -- Right. Very much so. My left hand is clumsy enough that I never did really get the hang of playing the piano with both hands, and I still struggle with video games that aren’t Mass Effect. (I’m good at Mass Effect because I’ve been playing it for something like five years at this point. ^_^)

TV Shows and anime you watch regularly -- Hah. I don’t watch anything regularly. I don’t even read books regularly, I go through phases where I don’t read a book for months and then suddenly I’m reading ten in a day. And I don’t do open canons, anyway; they interact badly with my particular anxieties and stress levels.

Halloween costume idea for this year? -- I generally default to a cowboy or a pirate. I also have a witch hat now. But I might come up with something else. Living in an apartment complex, though, there will be no trick-or-treaters, so unless I wind up working somewhere that does Halloween costumes, the point is rather moot.

What is your relationship status? -- Single, aromantic, have never dated anyone, would rather like a primary relationship at some point but that’s an issue for when I can support myself. :P

Last movie you just watched? -- I genuinely don’t know. Probably Black Panther? No, that was like February. Hot Fuzz?

A song that’s been stuck in your head? -- This very seldom happens to me. I think the last one was Janice Buckner’s “Strange Friends”, a little-known ‘80s children’s song, of which I can remember neither the tune nor the lyrics. Usually I can at least remember the lyrics even if I don’t know what tune they went to.

A book you want to read/have recently read? -- Erm. I just reread Aaron Allston’s X-wing books, if you can call it rereading when I was mostly skimming looking for good tumblr URLs (I found a lot, but none that felt like me). I’m not really in a reading phase at the moment, so.

#reblog if meme #sort of #i'm not really sure what to call this sort of meme

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luriashrine · 6 years

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kabsks you’re gonna hate me bUT I KINDA WANNA KNOW THE ANSWERS TO ALL QUESTIONS FOR CELIA (and maybe Fai if u want!) except maybe number 5 bc i dunno if it fits, you decide!! INFO DUMP ME!!!!

NOW HOW CAN I HATE YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO INFO DUMP AS MUCH AS I COULD?! Be prepared for some weird errors, I’m heading back out and I tried to finish this in the little time I have at the moment ;0;

1. What would completely break your character.

Here’s the sad thing, Celia is already broken. For a large part of her childhood to adolescent to late teenage years, she had to endure so much shit. It doesn’t help one bit that The Lich makes damn sure to live through her trauma each and every day during her training. For three long years, she had to witness her family dying over and over again just so that she can learn to desensitize herself (it’s best to think of her training in The Box as though she was trapped in a time loop with different outcomes depending on her choices or what The Lich wants to throw at her).

Aside from total failure in completing her end of the contract, nothing can break Celia but even that is debatable since some of her actions throughout ATEW suggests otherwise (there are times in the story where Celia tries to goad Adrian into killing her in order to stop but he seriously couldn’t in the beginning).

2. What was the best thing in your character’s life?

Her family, more importantly, Marcel and Remei. But they’re gone now and for a long while she had nothing she considered important. Until she finally opens up to Fai and later on Nessie. Seeing Phoebe’s kingdom come crumbling down would be another great thing in her life…

3. What was the worst thing in your character’s life?

Fai and Celia did not get off on the right foot. At first Fai thought that protecting a sociopathic brat like Celia was the worst thing ever, especially since she’s someone who is fine with getting her hands dirty which consequently means that she always jumps headfirst into danger(hRM DOESN’T THAT SOUND FAMILIAR YOU BUTT ADJNAKS seriously though, he does the same at times but to him when Celia did it was annoying). Eventually, through time they do bond and now the worst thing in Fai’s life is how much he’s in love with her despite knowing what will happen once she completes her contract.

Still… Celia’s recklessness and overconfidence in herself scare him nowadays…

4. What seemingly insignificant memories stuck with your character.

The first time she ever had paella after a kindly couple (Kyrie and Santiago) took her in for a couple of weeks… it’s extremely insignificant but the impact of the event meant so much to her and there are times where she could still taste the fluffy, sunny-colored rice and the multitude of spices after spending a couple of years in shitty orphanages eating moldy bread (bread that she would have to steal from other children due to food rations), watery soup and this bland grey mush that had the proper nutrients in it but very little substance to it. Kyrie had prepared that dish out on a whim one day, after he had fed her so many other wonderful dishes ever since he took her in but all of the flavoring in the paella stuck out the most to her. Much to her embarrassment, she cried after eating the dish. She wasn’t crying just because she was having good food but because for the first time in a long time she was eating dinner with a family once more and that revelation struck Celia so hard she was overwhelmed with emotion.

I wrote a drabble but for Fai, Celia showing Fai that sweet fairy poo. Her laugh was the most magical thing on the planet. SHE ALSO HAS THE CUTEST DIMPLES WHEN SHE LEGIT SMILES AND THAT DESTROYS HIM YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!

5. I’M SORRY, I REALLY TRIED BUT I CAN’T ANSWER!! CELIA’S JOB IS TO KILL AND SHE DOESN’T REALLY ENJOY KILLING ALL THAT MUCH, SURE SHE’S GROWN DEATTACHED AND HAS NO PROBLEM WITH IT BUT… YEAH!

6. what is your character reluctant to tell people.

Celia has a lot to hide which is understandable given her circumstances meanwhile Fai is too reluctant with telling anyone else that he’s in love with Celia this is mostly because Shadows aren’t really supposed to have any feelings and falling in love with a human is considered… strange to say the least.

7. How does your character feel about sex?

I’LL TRY TO BE A MATURE ADULT WITH TALKING ABOUT THIS BUT IDK I STILL FEEL WEIRD TALKING NSFW WITH MY OCS, not uncomfortable just jadksbldns. But anyway!!!

Celia and her very unabashed view, as well as the immense pleasure she takes in it, ties into a lot of things such as her self-worth as well as her nasty habit of smothering herself in more risky behaviors whenever she’s going through a mania episode since sex is just one of many self-destructive behaviors. On top of all those things, for a short time she had a slight fear of emotional attachment before meeting with Fai, having sex with no strings attached was ideal for Celia. This doesn’t mean that she’s thirsty.txt 24/7 just because she’s shameless and has sexual confidence, sex is not always on her mind… but she’s not one to say no to whoever offers to have sex with her either.

Fai on the other hand… he is very much a thot when it comes to his lovers. SO UH!!!

8. how many friends does your character have?

WEEPS!!!! I’ve said time and time again that Celia is a true neutral, she has a grey moral outlook with little to no regard for a lot of things since as rules and the like… however, so many people will regard her as cruel or even evil due to her many actions in both a meta sense and in the story sense as well. So, yeah… she doesn’t really have many friends because of this aspect of her and has tons of enemies. After she opens up to Fai she later does befriend Nessie and makes an attempt to at the very least try to bond with her resistance members since they are doing all of the heavy hard work and she appreciates their loyalty to her.

9. how many friends does your character want?

This is the question that upsets me the most. It’s a bit of a mixed bag here since there is a large part of Celia that years for companionship but because of all of the events she had to go through during ATEW (most of which she almost died in) she has a natural distrust of everyone and her paranoia convinces Celia that everyone is out to get her. She honest to god hates being alone with her thoughts since she has to relive her trauma. She prefers the company of others not only to satisfy her needs for social interaction and attention too but to distract from her mind.

10. What would your character make a scene in public about?

She doesn’t really like making scenes in public, Celia is someone who works in from the shadows of the slums first and foremost due to the many people who are out to get her whether they be human, spirits she’s upset or the gods there is a price for her head for all of the crime she’s committed. As such, she doesn’t really like making any scenes of any sorts but there is an extremely rare expectation to that face and that expectation is that if she’s feeling highly emotionally. Once again, this plays into her mania episodes of her manic depression and on top of that, years of just bottling away her trauma, anger and a plethora of many other emotions she tries to shut down through dissociation. After having an emotional breakdown she will feel pretty shitty with some sense of catharsis.

11. For what would your character give their life?

If losing her life has some value in completing whatever goals she has, then she would gladly give up her life for that sake with no hesitance. Later on, where Celia actually develops and makes a legit human connection with other people she would find that she has no problem with giving up her life for them if it’s worth it in the end. Fai is well aware of both facts and he always cries silently to himself.

Fai risks his life mostly for glory and being an actual adrenaline junkie. Nothing noble behind his actions.

12. what are your character’s major flaws.

I’ve already talked about it with Celia but her major, major flaw would have to be her envy and how much it blinds her, the fact that she has little empathy, is prideful/arrogant, suffers from a superiority/inferiority complex etc. etc.

I’d like to talk about Fai though! He’s apparent frivolous nature is a huge, huge flaw of his as he sometimes underestimates his opponents in battle and constantly undermines himself as well because he doesn’t really use all of his powers when fighting. He’s too carefree/playful and that’s his greatest trait about him but also his worst. I don’t really need to go too much in depth about how much his recklessness gets him in trouble or all of the weird mess he would get himself into lol… the dragon fighting is suffice enough.

13. what does your character pretend or try to care about?

Omg… I can’t help but think of this with Celia whenever someone finds out about her lies, she would act so deadpan once she’s caught in the act because chances are you already have a bullet through your head lol!!!! Her paranoia and overall perfectionist attitude won’t allow for her to let a silly mistake like that live for long.

Fai tries to pretend that he cares about The Lich and to his credit he almost follows their orders. Make what you will out of that.

14. how does the image your character tries to project differ from the image they actually project.

Celia has well over 3439203023 different personas since she’s very meticulous in how she wants to present herself to others in order to seem all the more appealing to them. As we all know, her acting is a crock of shit!! I wouldn’t go as far as to say that the real Celia is a terrible person and leave it at that, it takes away so much of her character because there’s so much more to her than her terrible life choices and actions.

With Fai, aside from his poker face that he wears when on duty, what you see is what you get because of how much of a shit he doesn’t give when it comes to presentation.

15. what is your character afraid of?

Blood. Ironic, isn’t it? For all of the lives that Celia takes and all of the blood she’s shed for the sake of her goal, just a mere glance at it and she relives through the night of her trauma all over again. She hates the sight, the smell and overall feel of it hence why she prefers to use long ranged weapons combined with her magic in order to not see blood spill from her victims. I think I’ve mentioned this before but Celia hates bleeding out not just because of her fear towards blood but because of how shitty her body is, it tends to take a while for a wound to clot and close up so she can bleed for hours on end with no signs of stopping (I’m not even touching on the fact how she suffers from minor internal bleeding either hence the high number of bruises she sometimes sports). I suppose getting caught by the military or Phoebe’s powers would be legitimate fears as well.

#layzeal #celia ;#fai ;#vERY BRIEFLY I'VE TALKED ABOUT FAI #ANYWAY!!!!

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todokori-kun · 7 years

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Yeah, I think I’m ok :D (I’m gonna reread the entire series now though because my parents decided to buy it for me. I might cry during the reread…)

Ah, well. Death does make the most sense for Hohenheim, and now that I think about it, he was probably tired of living (that’s depressing but hey)

I don’t really know how I feel about Ed’s alchemy but I was a tiny bit disappointed because it felt like it was a small-ish price to pay to get Alphonse’s body back? Maybe it’s just me?

I’m always happy to get recs :D

WAIT. I actually know that book!!! I saw it when I was searching for a new fantasy series to read…most of the reviews were really negative and now I see why XD

Hisoka’s trash, but so is his best (only) friend (who could totally cut off his head with little to no regrets), Illumi. Illumi is the oldest son of the Zoldyck family. Let me tell you about the Zoldycks:

-asassins

-terrifying assassins

-baby assassins

-did I mention that they’re assassins?

-birthdays in the Zoldyck family=cake, presents, hugs

-the cake is probably poisoned to build up tolerance

-the presents are bombs

-mom’s probably hiding a knife in her skirt to stab you as she hugs you

-now figure out how to get out of this party alive

-good job, if you’re still fine by the end of the day momma is proud of you

-now go out into the world and murder people like a good child

-(Apparently they sometimes don’t bother to teach kids about manners and basic human interaction though, because Illumi has all the charm and social skills of a wet rag)

-(a wet rag with dead fish eyes)

-(a wet rag with dead fish eyes who literally digs holes in the ground and sleeps in them)

-(he’s also so obsessed with his adorable little brother Killua that he basically shoves a magic needle into Killua’s head and uses mind-control on him in order to make sure he never does anything dangerous)

-(even if that means controlling Killua so he’ll abandon his best friend to save himself)

tysm ;-;

sometimes I hate TG so much

Kimblee x Explosions vs. Alex x Shot glasses: which one is the bigger OTP?

Kimblee’s idea of sweet: “I only blew up twelve people and two buildings today. Are you proud of me?”

(and imagine when this couple gets into fights

Kimblee: “Really, Evans, I don’t understand why you can’t appreciate my art. I always support yours.”

Evans: “MY art doesn’t involve explosions! This ISN’T FUNNY, ok?!”

Kimblee: “No need to shout. And of course it’s not funny, it’s beautiful.”

Evans: “You know what, couple therapy. That’s what we need. Along with a lot of relationship counseling.”)

omg we’d literally be team rocket thank you for that mental image

That’s SO CUTE <333 I’d probably call you queen on purpose sorry not sorry

Evans might actually join you at some point. Poor Moblit would be left all on his own with three maniacs XD (I know right)

Hopefully Armin will live ;-; cinnamon roll child

I’m actually considered really tall for my age and I was actually mistaken for a college student once XD but yeah, I’m smol compared to you…

(that’s cool ^^ and wow, Levi.)

Glad I could make you laugh :D (I laughed way too hard while writing it too). But Kimblee would probably just blow up the court tbh

TYSM I’M SO HAPPY IT DOESN’T COMPLETELY SUCK ;-; and yeah, when I saw that quote I immediately thought of Uta…

I totally need help so yes, please, if it’s ok? TYSM <3

(and you’ve probably seen by now but I sent in two other aesthetics :D)

I adore all of FMA’S OPs and EDs. I agree with you, though, ‘Again’ is beautiful- I love the singer’s voice :)

I HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET BUT I’M TOTALLY GOING TO SEE IT NOW

Aww, it’s gonna be fine! You’ll get over it ^^ Eventually… And that’s so nice of your parents! I wonder if you’ll actually cry :))

Honestly, I can’t blame him… His life wasn’t all that nice, but he was at least reunited with his wife? So he’s probably happier this was ^^;;;

Well, considering how valuable alchemy is to Ed, and how much he actually relied on it, it might not be such a small price after all. But, then again, a whole body in exchange for a skill that could potentially be brought back, that might be a bit unfair, true… I’m just glad my cinnamon roll finally has his body back T^T

FATE/ZEROooooo. Zankyou no Terror. Re:Zero. All of these have plenty of suffering mixed in. Also, don’t let Re:Zero fool you with its light colors and character design. That is one of the most mentally draining anime I’ve watched recently, because it’s literally a never ending loop of suffering.

This is Re:Zero.

This is also Re:Zero. Pay attention to the head.

Oh god if I was a person who left reviews on books, I’d leave a whole wall of text for the review. There’s a difference between making a character seem perfect, but making that a facade and using it for character growth and actually making the chacter flawless. Wow, that book irritates me XD

I mean… we all have our own quirks? But wow that’s messed up, big time. Shoving a magical needle into your younger bro to ‘protect’ him? Boy, that’s like one of those ‘I’m pushing you away to protect you’ *proceeds to angst* plots. Is Killua by any chance one of the two kid main boys? Cause the name sounds familiar ^^

Tokyo Ghoul is the manga that you have the love-hate relationship with. It’s more hate, but whatever.

Well, Alex x shot glasses at least isn’t destructive? So I’ll pick that one over Kimblee x explosions any day XD

Right, so sweet. Instead of 40 buildings, he only blew up 12. You should buy him chocolate as a reward XD Hopefully he doesn’t blow that up as well...

If you ever get Kimblee into art, make sure to give a separate room for that, otherwise, it might become a hazard. I mean, I can imagine him filling up water balloons with paint, hanging them on a canvas and then blowing them up.

Who’d be the smol pokemon tho? ((I don’t know the names XD))

I’d probably become an actual tomato.

I feel sorry for Mobilt XD He wouldn’t have just Hanji to deal with anymore, he’d have to deal with us as well... Poor Moblit.

He will! The fandom would probably riot if anything happened to Armin, especially after we already had the scare.

Kimblee would blow up Shuu. No evidence left behind (other than the huge crater that was probably left after the explosions)

You’ll definitely grow some more soon ^^

Uta is the one who brings popcorn to the fights, because they entertain him.

I’ll be honest, when I saw Tatsuo’s aesthetic, my first thought was Jumin Han. Then I remembered you never played Mystic Messenger XD

Right, so the thing you have to watch the most when making aesthetics is color. Always have a color palette in mind, because it’ll make finding the right pictures easier. Pick a color and stick to it. That way, it’ll be a tiny bit better, since it’ll also please the eye more. Also dark/light shouldn’t mix too much. It’s better if you pick one of those and mix with another color. Heck, if you get stuck, you can at least search *(color) aesthetic* and find a pic that fits through that XD

SO WHAT DID YOU THINK?? I WAS ALMOST SCREAMING THE ENTIRE TIME, I’M SO EXCITEEEED

I’m sorry I didn’t answer yesterday, we had guests over and were preparing more or less the whole day. Among those guests was my 9 year old cousin, otherwise known as the most annoying kid on the planet. I wanted to punch a wall... First of all, I had to entertain him the whole time, and that’s not an easy feat for someone like him. I swear, the boy has worms in his ass or something, cause he can’t sit still for more than 10 seconds. Then, at one point, I took the laptop and started writing something, because inspiration struck (and internet died again). It was in english and he can barely speak the language, yet he was still trying to read what I wrote out loud and always asked me to translate what I was writing. At one point, I wrote the word ‘Shit’ and he went to my parents and told them ‘Luna is writing bad stuff’. I had to explain that the character swears a lot and that I actually keep it very kid-friendly with how it should be. Then, I received a message from my friend, but the two of us talk in english, so he started reading my texts out loud (a huge no-no for me, because I want my privacy when talking to people) and was basically being a brat the whole evening. Also, he chews with his mouth open. I almost ripped out my hair... True, I also get childish when he’s over, because he brings out that part of me. I mean, he’s the kid who tells me to let him win if we’re playing a game, even if the game is based on pure luck and I couldn’t let him win even if I wanted to. I sincerely hope your little sis is nicer than him XD

#evans #submission

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andychwe-blog · 6 years

Text

Flowers

morning

It was 4AM when I blossomed, surrounded by shoplifted mannequin body parts to keep me company. It was less of an obsession but a necessity, like oxygen. Mannequins, formed by the hands of men, a crude replica of countless millennia of evolution- were the perfect version of humanity, lacking the layers of complexity that humans were endlessly plastering over themselves. Hanging out of the glove compartment, stacked on top of each other on the passenger seat, it gave the illusion of human company under the dark blue haze of the early morning. I was forty-five and depressed.

The hymn of the overpass began seventy-eight minutes before sunrise, cutting the sultry June air like a crescendo of blunt knives slicing the serenity into increasingly smaller portions. It began with a long, dragged-out trembling, evolving into a dull pulsing similar to that of a beating heart, accompanied by the ever-increasing barrage of cars joining the performance. Fog stretched its sinuous fingers over the boulevards like a sheet thrown in the air, ebbing in and out like a continuation of the tide, as if trying to sweep the city away. Sometimes I pretended that I coul pull little strands of time out of the fog, so that one day I could weave a way out of my mess. I was going southbound on the Harbor Freeway, halfway through downtown, weaving my way through the canyon of synthetic monoliths, standing testament to civilization, as if signaling the advent of an age of permanence. I checked the side view mirror, watching a beat-up Camry come racing down the lane. For a split-second, I could see who was inside the car.

It was an everyday, dressed in the characteristic paper bag draped over the features, two slits carved out for visual aide. Being an everyday required a strict regimen of total singularity, where the most devoted symbolically gouged out their own eyes to eliminate the clout of judgement that was inflicting society. At first it seemed like a fad, soon to be washed away by the passage of time. Society was steadfast yet ever-changing, endlessly metamorphosing for the better or the worse. Yet it swooped down on the nation like an army of fish nets, gripping the idle in its fists while only the shrewd slipped through.

The first subtle promise of the day sat along the horizon, spitting specks of light on the dashboard. It was a time of transience, an awkward, misshapen time; labeless and lacking any particular definition. The air tightened, the equator had shifted northwards, the magnetic forces that so precariously held the planet together were dissolved, and for thirty seconds in the time between twilight and dawn, the silent time, the world was turned on its feet. Bags flew off of everydays, the Sun gazing upon their pasty skin for the first time in years. Third eyes briefly opened up in the wrinkled brows of the masses, expanding to fit neatly over the skull. The Southland was picked up on two sides and folded like a piece of paper. Children spilled out of the sewers, rows of bungalows closed in on each other, and the pipes of Los Angeles, sucking the lifeblood out of an arid valley two hundred miles away, spewed water into the streets. Everyone rolled out of their cars and tumbled under the First Street Bridge, and for ten seconds we stared at each other, extremely content, knowing that we were a heap of flesh, a thinking pile of flesh that was tied together by the strings of connection, that somehow, through countless past and future lives we found ourselves here, witnessing the simple spectacle of being in each other’s company.

Layers of sentiment fell upon us like a sensory overload, piled layer upon layer in different shades and combinations that no tongue could ever describe. The fact that we had all found ourselves in the river was something special, that we were building relationships through merely understanding the circumstances, that our identity was not our own, but made of the people around us. Being human was never easier, or more gratifying. This mantra swamped us, and in the silence that filled the morning air we blossomed.

I blossomed.

It was an odd sensation, to have a flower grow inside of me. The strings of connection, so firmly attached to each and every one of us- the beggars, the 1%, the murderers, the colorful, the privileged, the illegal- built a physical cobweb-like structure between us. It looped over the graceful curve of the bridge and spread out into Boyle Heights to the east and the freight depot to the west. As the structure grew in its perfect mess, the flowers too crawled out of the sterile blank space inside of us. They made a humming sound, not unlike that of a group of desperate bees, both eldritch and calming, as if confirming their presence. And in that paragon of time, when the forces in the universe at least pretended that they were in perfect balance, and what was that word I saw in the bookstore at Echo Park, the one built over the dead bodies- hygge, yes, the feeling of being safe, known, and that was it, the feeling of being nestled up between all of these people. People with beating hearts, with seeing eyes, who shed tears and felt pain, who were susceptible to the sting of merely a word but could live on this desolate planet for millions of years, and probably millions more. With our flowers we made a garden, the Garden of Eden, a paradise that lasted only a few seconds but held so much.

Light climbed up the sky like sand in an hourglass, and like all things the flowers wilted, the cobweb structure dissolved in the river, carried down to float with dead whales and plastic straws in the port, and the memory, the reality of these seconds would become vaguely distorted and rearranged so that the fog drifting over the city would rest in my head. The polluted, the freethinkers, the pious, the messiahs, the dispossessed, the damned all disappeared in a quivering mirage of the brain, for the eyes were of no use, they only relayed the images, and it could have all been the way I processed it, the way my brain fabricated an image. But the flowers lingered, their petals rotting in my heart.

afternoon

The surveillance video of the pileup played over and over again on the TV, highlighting the moment when we all fell into the river like a pack of lemmings. I sat in what I presumed was the emergency ward of some hospital- public, obviously, with the characteristic aseptic stench leaking off the walls. I had no insurance, and next to lay a hundred or so others, others who had been found at 4AM lolling around in the Los Angeles River, stuck under tires and bleeding profusely in a perfect circle. There was a freaky quality to it, and already people were attributing it to La Llorona, it was summer, and people needed a chill. There was a dryness in my mouth, as if I was holding a tadpole in my mouth and it grew into a frog, hopping out before I woke up.

The flowers. I stuck my finger deep into my throat, and it was as if I nudged a tender something down there, something that I hadn’t noticed before. My fingers traced the ridge of my spine, and out came a puff of fine dust. Pollen. It was like a photograph, as if time was grinding to a standstill until all you saw was one image, one that would define a whole period of time but time passes even if that’s all that dwells in your memory. It rose up and merged with the dust floating up and down, mingling and blending into one large farrago of particles, because in the end our head and our shit will come together and we’ll have a nice paste of everything laid down over us.

I didn’t have any severe injuries, just a few cuts and bruises, souvenirs of the morning. I started walking through the emergency room with a casual gait. I decided to leave the life that I had previously lived. Not that I particularly liked it. The highlight of the week was getting hungover on the weekends, and not with any other people, but by myself, sitting in my apartment covered in mildew, the only riparian habitat for miles.

I walked straight into the smog-ridden heat waiting quietly next to the entrance, ready to absorb me back into its grasps. Slowly but surely, I melted into the scene, being yet another character in the demented, asinine stage of Los Angeles, where at midnight tar pits opened up beneath the boulevards and swallowed up the stragglers, preserving their skeletons for millennia.

evening

I walked along the edge of the freeway, accompanied by a mass exodus of salarymen from downtown. The frenzied rush was not unlike salmon going upstream, each in his own fight, navigating their way over each other. It was terrifying, yet my helplessness to the deluge of cars was almost soothing, as I let their presence wash over me.

The traffic flow was so strong that it carried me with it, a swell pushing me into the shadow of Chavez Ravine and under the watchful fronds of rows of Washingtonia palms. Blood was coursing through the arteries of the city, and I was but a cell drifting on course, picked up by the sheer force of the movement. I missed my alcove of mannequin parts, but returning but claiming my truck would mean facing the hospital bills, after I blossomed I had been picked up and placed on another course, and there was no way back. It may have seemed like a horrible accident, but only to the naïve eyes of those who haven’t yet gone beyond the simple comprehension of the physical. Something had made us descend like a pack of tumbleweeds into the concrete corset of Los Angeles, and in that action came yet another, a rich yield of flowers.

I rushed pass crumbling warehouses lining the freeway like dominoes left to stand in the brink of falling down, pass an odd amalgam of quintessential suburbia and gritty side streets north of the city proper, pass the uneven urban carpet laid down over the numerous hills. each balancing each other out. A soft gradient of purple and blue hung over the ridges. I rode over the whole of the Valley, arriving at the foot of the San Gabriel Mountains, both an enigma and a symbol, a wall between a parched desert and an endlessly hemorrhaging sprawl.

Yuccas dotted the slopes along rows of newly fabricated gated communities sheltering countless seemingly perfect nuclear families. Beyond the maze of the upper middle class lay a scattering of hunched figures, gathered around fires set on the highway and sitting patiently, as if waiting for something. The smell of patchouli drifted in a haze down from the encampment, and suddenly, in a riot of noise, the inhabitants jumped up, awkwardly adjusting themselves to standing, and started a parade down the highway, bearing flashlights and lanterns, bearing various instruments and attempting to join them in song. There was already a barricade at the beginning of the mountain route, effectively reserving the whole of the forests to the marchers.

“We’ve occupied the mountains. It’s our terraform, a land with love and peace.” A group of volunteers, clad in matching T-shirts ushered me into the parade.

Some of the marchers were barefoot, scraping their feet along the asphalt. As the Sun’s last gasps of light faded over the sky, we headed up, past the shrubland and into the realm of the pines, and all of a sudden it became completely dark, and the stars shone above us. Perhaps there were a billion different types of trees hiding out in the dark, but in truth it didn’t matter because in the end we were all placed on this lonely rock somewhere in the vast expanse of the universe.

A kid, tall and skinny like a papaya tree ran up to me and screamed. “People think that the Sun set. But in reality it’s just an illusion, and it’s the result of Earth spinning sixty thousand miles an hour around the Sun. Don’t fall for what they cram into your head.”

A chorus of clapping and singing promptly began, which was somewhat coordinated yet off in a way, the effect being the opposite of ethereal, and reminiscent of something wild. And this crowd, composed of mostly adolescents, were wild, shedding off their skins, their lives, everything bestowed to them in an attempt to chase after opaque visions of the ideal youth. They were refugees, latching onto their own romanticism, crawling up the mountains in search of something, just as I was. They lusted for the counterculture of their forefathers and saw a contorted future without promise. They were the last generation, one no one really knew about.

I tried my best only to observe them, but in the midst of their cacophonous, yet strangely enchanting ceremony of sorts, I found myself being wove tightly into their fabric until all I saw were the paisley swirls that dominated the bandanas they wore over their mouths as we pushed up higher into the darkness of the forest, a solitary boat bringing a pageant of color over an ocean of emptiness towards a greater spectacle sitting as its own island, breathing among the heavens.

This was where all the missing children went, donning weeds in their hair and growing their own drugs to medicate themselves organically. Everydays that had so carefully made small incisions every year around the eyes of their offspring saw them escape in a fit of individuality. Emo teens, already a dying breed, converted to a desire for love instead of a desire to die, effectively ending their reign as the lemons of suburban high schools. Wherever there was flat ground there were tents and cardboard beds, and many slept among the branches of the trees. People frolicked in the mud, rubbing tree sap on their skin. They were carefree and young, quick to toss a cliché if noted by anyone, trying to fit in and create their own hype.

“Hey, you look new.” A woman my age, covered in beads and checking her phone stroller up to me. “Tear up some grass and put it over your head- you’ll fit right in.”

I glanced up at her, not sure if she was joking. “It looks like we're at the odd end of the age spectrum here.”

“Oh, I’m only here to chaperone my kids. Don’t want them to get so high that they jump off a cliff or something.”

She looked over her shoulder and promptly ran into a tent, peering at a group of ten-year-olds grinding their teeth so hard that they were chewing on their sweaters.

A blond teen beckoned me with the bough of a manzanita. “Haramokngna is the shit. That’s the native name for this areas. Fuck colonialism!”

He stared at me, blinking, as if expecting praise for his remark.

“Oh.” He pointed at my eyes and laughed. “ It’s fine if you can’t speak English. Here, I can recite the Heart Sutra by heart, if that helps.”

I stay silent like a monk.

“You know, we have different areas for aliens, you know, people like you. It’s just our energies don’t match.” He pointed towards an empty clearing next to the bathrooms. “You. Go. Over. There.”

I ignored him and his inherent racism. As my mother always told me in her melodic Korean voice, “Don’t step into dog shit.”

I was looking for something that could bring back the flowers, bring back that feeling of being inserted snugly into that perfect slot of belonging. I passed a cart bearing psychedelic goods when a kid, maybe fifteen came and looked up at me.

“Whatcha lookin’ for.” He said. “There ain’t no window shopping here. Only buyers.”

There was no point in trying to explain anything at all at this point, so I asked him about himself.

He was a forager back when he lived in the city with the rest of his family. “There’s a technique to finding hearts if you want one.” He said, slurring his speech. “You gotta hop on the freeways. It’s easier to check the parks but there isn’t a good selection. Accidents are a routing thing, and people dump bodies so they get all mushed up under the tires. Sometimes you can even chip away at the concrete and find a heart that’s still beating.”

These people were lost, all searching for something different. You can’t organize a blossoming, it’s spontaneous, just like the advent of spring. Like millions of separate amoebas wandering aimlessly on a petri dish, we were confined, examined by the rest of society.

I had to escape, get myself out of this mess.

midnight

As everyone lay in an intoxicated daze, I slipped off the highway and onto the five-mile-long road that led to Mt Wilson. The cops didn’t bother you as long as you didn’t go there because they didn’t want mischief near the observatory. Fuck that.

The road lay coiled along the ridge like a snake, and without my sobriety I might’ve fallen down. I held a baseball bat that I stole from a dozing group of teenagers in my hands. No one was there, and at one point I wriggled over the road because I had no way where I was going.

At one point the sky opened up more than it ever had, and the stars fell in a parabolic motion towards the Earth. My breaths became slower, and I fell to my feet, only to rise again, pulled by the gravitational forces of the moon in an eternal tug-of-war. I looked over Los Angeles, a tapestry of lights, laid down like stitches over the land, and it was curious to see how many people lived under the great dome of the sky. How many functioning people played their lives as the Sun rose and paused as the Moon reached its apex, interacting with each other, loving and hating.

I swung my bat, toppling the antennas. There were no more broadcasts in the city, but it didn’t matter, because no one watched television or listened to the radio anyway, it was the dawn of a new age whether you liked it or not. For innumerable years before that day, the fate was decided that we would all seek sanctuary in this god forsaken corner of the planet, and for untold years in the future this would bind us together.

The flowers that lay dormant within me blossomed again. I remember hearing something about the human condition, essentially every experience that shapes being human. There, with the souls of millions at my feet, I realized that my flowers were that condition- the simple fact that we are not alone in this lonely planet to see continents shift, mountains fall, and each other love. The smile that comes to the lips with company is a flower. And thank god for gardens.

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