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#my pathetic cringe queen!

eff-plays · 9 months

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ALSO TO BE CLEAR: I don't actually think you're like cringe or a bad person or have bad taste if you romance Astarion with elves. I don't actually care, because it's a video game and I, like, have homework. It's all just hyperbole for the hahas. Yes I do genuinely find the dynamic less interesting, but that's because I don't generally play elves if there's more fucked up guys on offer, so I would just naturally have a harder time making it interesting. So if you can come up with an amazing story for your elf romancing Astarion, great! More power to you! I love you etc etc.

#to all my new followers: i am very loud and obnoxious about my opinions online for the hahas and for the expression of it #irl i'm actually chill and don't actually care that much because frankly it's none of my fucking business how you enjoy the game #blog stuff #bg3 #so basically if you saw my previous post asking to see tavs/durges and think that i wouldn't wanna see yours because they're an elf?#WRONG i would like to see them please!!#i am very real about blocking people that annoy me though but that's mainly because of my fucking #pathetic backstory as a drama queen from back in the dragon age days #it's for my own peace of mind so i don't get jebaited into cringe debates #and also i just like to curate my own online experience<3

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cheesiedomino · 4 months

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Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

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thornybubbles · 10 months

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Forever My Queen (Yandere Diavolo x Reader)

**Note: This is the first story in a collection of stories based on songs. All of the songs used as inspiration have lyrics that sound a bit “yandere-ish” to me. Each song was paired with a character that I personally think it suits the best.**

**Note 2: Features a female reader. Diavolo may seem a bit out of character here, but I figure that by this point, after having gone through the death loop for so long, his already unstable mind has snapped completely. So have fun with that, Reader. Be warned that I haven’t proofread this so it may contain mistakes. I’ll go back over this and fix any mistakes I find later. In the meantime I’ll go back to working on “Kinder Than Love”.

WARNING: Mentions of suicide, death, and other dark themes. Read at your own discretion. Remember that you alone are responsible for what you choose to read.

Inspiration: “Forever My Queen” by Pentagram

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How much longer would he have to endure this? How many times would he have to endure the agony of death?

Over and over and over again…

Would he ever be allowed to die and just stay dead?!

Diavolo’s wild, green eyes darted around, making note of every little thing that could possibly kill him. He deemed it all dangerous. After all the times he died, he learned a very important lesson:

Death could come at any time, from anywhere, from anyone or anything.

From being stabbed, burned, shot, poisoned, strangled, electrocuted, drowned, starved, crushed, chopped to pieces, eaten alive, torn in half, beaten to death, he’d experienced nearly every way a human being could die. He couldn’t take it anymore.

How would it happen this time?

Would it be slow and agonizing or quick and painless?

He stared about, cringing in on himself and trembling. It had already been about ten minutes and he was still breathing. It offered him no comfort. He knew it was only a matter of time before the end came. Then he would end up somewhere else and die again… and again… and again…

“Please…” his voice came out in a trembling whisper.

“Please!”

A few people walking down the sidewalk glanced in his direction, shook their heads at the obvious madman, and kept walking.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! GET IT OVER WITH! JUST KILL ME ALREADY!” he screamed, glaring at the people that turned to give him strange looks.

How did the saying go? “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Diavolo, the man that had once held an entire country in the palm of his hand had been reduced to a cowering, trembling, paranoid lunatic that screamed obscenities in the streets while people looked on in shock, concern, and occasional amusement.

The King was king no more.

He had nothing.

He was nothing.

His subjects had all turned against him. His kingdom had been stolen from him. He was exiled into a never ending loop of death, defeated by a mere child. King Crimson was gone. Dear Doppio, his companion soul, was dead. And now, the only thing he had to look forward to was death.

He fell to his knees and tried to keep from bursting into tears like a pathetic child. Most of the people that had been distracted by his little outburst had already walked away, some more hurried than others, but all wanting nothing more than to be as far away from Diavolo as possible. He could keel over right there in front of all those people and none of them would care. They would just step over his corpse as if he were just a pile of trash. No one cared what happened to him.

He had nothing at all to live for.

Nothing to live for…

Diavolo chuckled at the realization. Of course. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? It all made sense now. It was the one death he hadn’t experienced yet!

Suicide.

He was supposed to kill himself this time.

He couldn’t help but laugh, elated at the idea. He could resist of course, but he knew that the death loop would increase his despair until he finally gave up and ended himself. But he wouldn’t resist. No. He wanted to die this time. And he would enjoy it, too. It would be the only time that the death loop allowed him to choose the nature of his elimination. What would he choose? He wanted so badly to savor his brief moment of control, but he felt that the death loop would grow impatient if he didn’t act soon. So he would have to work with what was around him. He looked around his immediate area hoping to find something that could end his life in an at least tolerable way. Eventually he lifted his gaze to the rooftop of a nearby apartment building. Why not go with the old standard? He would climb to the roof of that building and jump to his death.

Diavolo entered the building, feeling something akin to peacefulness in his soul. He didn’t know what future horrors the death loop would bestow upon him, so he would relish this single moment of mercy. He decided to take the stairs, forgoing the elevator completely. He just wanted to enjoy the moment as this had been the longest he’d ever been allowed to stay alive. He could safely say that this would be his favorite death.

The door to the rooftop was thankfully unlocked. He opened it and walked out into the late afternoon glow. The air was so clear up there and Diavolo took a moment to breathe it all in. He walked up to the edge of the roof and stared down at the city. It gave him a great sense of tranquility standing there, looking at the skyline and the setting sun. He had no idea where he was, but for a moment, he imagined that this city was his kingdom and he had just climbed up to the roof of his sprawling villa to survey his domain.

Just like old times.

The feelings of despair hit him hard then and he knew it was time. He looked back down at the streets below and took a deep breath. It wouldn’t be the first time he fell to his death. He’d done it at least five times before. He knew it would hurt, it would be extremely painful, having nearly every bone in your body crushed by the force of gravity and your flesh splitting open as your insides spilled out all over the pavement would always be excruciating, but at the very least it would only last for a moment. Painful but quick. Diavolo supposed he’d take that over slow and agonizing. He held his arms out wide and started to let himself fall forward.

Something grabbed a hold of the back of the mesh shirt he wore and yanked him back onto the roof. He spun around and locked eyes with you.

--------

You had come up to the roof to watch the sunset and have a little smoke. You didn’t smoke often, but sometimes the events of the day wore you down and having a little nicotine in your system helped you deal with it. You had just finished your cigarette when the door to the roof was suddenly thrown open, startling you. A man dressed like a mannequin in the window of a Hot Topic shuffled out onto the roof with a spaced out look on his face. You weren’t sure but, he might’ve been under the influence of something with the way he was acting. He lumbered past you as if he hadn’t even seen you. You watched, with growing concern, as he made his way to the edge of the roof. He stood there staring out at the horizon before throwing his hands out and leaning forward.

SHIT!

You had a terrible feeling that he was going to jump the moment you saw him heading for the edge of the roof. You moved with speed that you didn’t know you possessed and grabbed a fistful of the netting on the back of his “shirt”, if you could even call it that, and yanked him backwards. He almost fell backwards on top of you before pulling himself out of your grip and turning his manic green eyes on you. He seemed shocked, confused, and maybe a little bit angry.

“WHY THE HELL DID YOU STOP ME?!”

Okay, maybe very angry.

You didn’t know how to answer him.

“I-I just… you were going to…” was all you could say.

“What business is it of yours?” he asked, voice dropped to a quieter, but just as threatening growl. “What compelled you to interfere?!”

Again, you didn’t know how to answer. Frankly you thought it was obvious.

“I guess… I just didn’t want you to jump.” you said, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

The man sneered, painted lips pulling away from his teeth.

“You shouldn’t have stopped me! I was meant to die here! I was….”

He trailed off and a look of stunned realization came over him. His mouth dropped open and he stared at you as if you just gave him the answers to all of life’s problems.

-----

The gears in Diavolo’s head were turning. Something had changed. He could feel it. He felt it the moment he felt you grab him and yank him back before he could let himself fall to his predestined death. All throughout the death loop, not once had anyone bothered to come to his rescue. You did. Where had you even come from? He hadn’t seen you at all when he walked onto the roof. There was a moment where the paranoia rose within him again and he thought that maybe you were meant to be his death, but why would you save him only to kill him a moment later? At the very least, he could trust his deaths to make sense. The paranoia within him faded when he looked at you. No. You wouldn’t hurt him. You weren’t the type. He knew full well what the look of murderous intent looked like in a person’s eyes. The only thing he saw in your eyes was confusion, discomfort, and a little bit of fear.

He felt as if a chain around his neck had been broken. Gone was the ever present atmosphere of impending doom.

It was over.

He was free.

Somehow, when you pulled him back onto the roof, you managed to pull him out of the death loop as well.

Something stirred within him and he absently placed a hand over his chest. That presence that had always been with him since his birth had returned. Doppio. His dear Doppio was a part of him again, he could feel it! Not only that…

He stood up to his full height and took a few steps back.

“King Crimson!” he shouted, causing you even more confusion.

His ever grimacing Stand appeared beside him, looking as if he had never been lost. King Crimson cast one sideways glance in your direction before Diavolo mentally dismissed him.

He turned back to you.

“You fixed it.” he said, sounding completely wonderstruck. “I don’t know how, but you fixed it. You gave everything back to me!”

Well, almost everything. He was still a king without a kingdom, but now that he had Doppio and King Crimson back, it was a problem he could easily deal with.

“Um, sir…”

Your timid voice interrupted his thoughts. His crazed eyes met yours and you took a step back. No, he wasn’t high, but he was very clearly mentally ill or at the very least mentally distressed.

“...is there someone that I can call for you?”

He answered you by suddenly sweeping you into his arms and pressing his lips to yours in a much too passionate kiss to be shared between strangers. You tried to pry yourself from his hold but his grip was like iron. He deepened the kiss in a way that had you both panicking and swooning at the same time. You didn’t know who this guy was, but he kissed like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You were getting dizzy and your vision was filling up with black splotches. You were on the verge of passing out when he finally pried his lips away from yours and set you back on your feet.

You lost your balance instantly, and fell over on your rear. Your head was spinning and you took a moment to catch your breath. You could feel the heat in your face and you were certain that it was roughly the color of a tomato. Your dazzled mind was at war with itself. One part of your mind was screaming that you needed to pick yourself off the ground and get the hell out of there before that psycho did something worse to you, while the other side of your mind was nervously dismissing the whole thing, saying that he was just showing his gratitude at you saving his life. Once your head began to clear, you scooted backwards on your ass until you felt you were out of his immediate reach. You weren’t going to let him touch you again.

“I will repay you. You have my word on that. I know you don’t fully understand what you’ve done for me today, but I will repay you for it.” he said.

He turned away from you, his eyes filled with a frightening kind of determination, and left the rooftop looking like a man with a mission.

You lay there on the roof, desperately trying to comprehend what just happened to you.

-----

Several months later…

You shook your head as you read the morning news.

“Man, this city’s gone to shit.” you murmured and took a sip of your coffee.

Almost overnight, your city’s crime rate skyrocketed. Murders, assaults, beatings, robberies, gang wars… there didn’t seem to be any end to it. Sure all of that stuff existed before, but not to the extreme level that it had reached in only a few months time. Something was definitely going on with the local criminal organizations and you wanted NO part of it. You glanced over at the pile of real estate brochures that rested on the kitchen counter. You had already been wanting to move for a while now, and the way things were going, you may have to move for your own safety. Young woman living alone? Yeah, you were a prime target. Luckily your apartment building was the only one in the neighborhood that hadn’t been broken into yet. Keyword being “yet”. It was only a matter of time. If there was ever a time to move out to the country, now was it. You quite frankly hated living in the city anyway. It was too noisy, too hectic, and lately, too dangerous.

A crashing sound caused you to look up from your paper. That came from just outside your door. You set the paper aside and cautiously approached the door. You reached out and put one ready hand on the handle of the baseball bat you kept next to the door and looked through the peephole. You didn’t see anything right away so you slowly opened the door. Sprawled on the floor was a little guy with pink hair who was pinned underneath a rather heavy looking box. He struggled to push the box off of himself but it wouldn’t budge. You let go of the baseball bat and threw the door open.

“Need some help?” you asked, stepping out into the hallway.

The little guy looked over at you and immediately blushed with embarrassment.

“N-no! I’m okay!” he said, rather unconvincingly. “I can handle it.”

He grunted as he tried to push the box off of himself again. It just wouldn’t budge no matter what he did. He looked back over to you, giving you a sheepish grin.

“Uh, actually… I could probably use a little bit of help… if you don’t mind…”

You couldn’t help but smile. Whoever he was, he was oddly charming. He seemed a little dense though, but hey, nobody’s perfect. You went over and knelt down next to where he lay. You pushed the box off of him and he sat up, sighing with relief.

“Thanks!” he said.

He got to his feet and looked up at you. His face flushed again, and he looked around himself, seemingly trying to avoid looking directly at your face.

Aw, he’s shy! You thought.

“I guess I overestimated my own strength…” he said and chuckled nervously.

You glanced over at all the other boxes sitting just outside of the open door to an apartment room.

“Guess this means you’re my new neighbor, huh?” you observed.

“Yep!” he said with a nod.

Getting over his shyness a bit, he offered a hand for you to shake. You smiled and shook his hand. His grip on your hand seemed to linger slightly longer than necessary before he finally let go.

“My name’s Doppio. Vinegar Doppio.” He said.

-----

Diavolo was overjoyed to have both his Stand and his second soul back. Not only that but he was slowly rebuilding his empire. The best part of it all was that he was no longer stuck in that infernal death loop.

He had you to thank for that.

And thank you he would.

He already made sure that you were the most protected being in the entire city. All of those under his rule knew that you were off limits. Your apartment was a safe zone and any of his underlings that passed it by wouldn’t even look at the building for fear of his wrath. Only one upstart thief thought that he would try his luck and attempt to break into your apartment. Doppio, who had been observing from the building across the street, quickly put a stop to it. Diavolo allowed his other half to deal with the disobedient worm however he desired. His dear Doppio was very thorough in his punishment. The thief's brutalized body was hung by its entrails from the ceiling of the local thieves' den. The message was very clear. Any slight towards you would be met with swift and horrific punishment. There would be no forgiveness, no chance at redemption, and NO MERCY.

Diavolo didn’t know what strange parallel world the death loop had taken him to, but what he did know is that you were destined to rule it alongside him. You hadn’t just saved his life that day you kept him from jumping from the roof, you gave him back everything that had been taken from him. You were special to him. You were clearly meant to be his. His Queen. With you by his side, he would bring this new world to its knees.

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joesalw · 6 months

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You really can't write this shit lmao...

TS's friend group consists of Miss 'idc about genocide and continue to employ a bloodthirsty zionist CEO for my makeup brand' and Cara D who's great grandfather created the Black and Tans which is a terrorist organisation that killed Irish people during the Irish War of Independence. A group that also sent their people to kill Palestinians in favor of establishing the state of Israel. Last night these 3 went to Ramy Youssef's (who Taylor probably met at the "Poor Things" premiere) comedy show in NYC and 100% of the proceeds would go to the Gaza relief fund. The thing is, Selena and Taylor are getting all the credit and praise for Ramy's activism. I've been a fan of her work for the past 10 years and her recent activities have turned me off of her completely. The turning point was that pathetic TIME interview.

I've always thought of her as this well-read individual who can masterfully express herself whether it would be public speaking or writing but I couldn't help but cringe while reading that article. She tries too hard to appeal to gen z and younger millennial crowd when she herself is practically pushing 40 atp. I feel like all of her 'intelligence' came from being around Joe Alwyn who's a notorious bookworm. The fact that she describes her Rep era as 'goth-punk' was the first strike, the 2016 hate train as a ' career death' was the 2nd and the whole patriarchy delusion she went into just hit the final nail in the coffin and I was like 'nope, not doing this shit anymore'.

I know that swifties have been comparing her to Beyonce lately saying things like 'well, Taylor writes her songs' or 'Beyonce can't read' and talking about how she doesn't give interviews so people don't know that she's dumb. And as a comparison I've found her Harper's Bazaar interview that she gave when she turned 40. And good God, I've slept on this woman for way too long. In the interview she talks about building her work ethic from an early age. The dedication of her life's decades (First decade was dedicated to dreaming, the teens were about the grind, the 20s were about building a strong foundation for her career and establishing her legacy, the 30s were about starting her family and prioritizing her own life over her career). She started her own management company at 27, in 2013 she started her charity foundation in which she helps hurricane relief, education, supporting minorities businesses, families with housing needs, water crises, pediatric health care and pandemic relief. She talks about expanding her business ventures beyond music industry, talks about setting boundaries in the world of celebrity culture, about her friends being a group of strong independent women, about the importance of mental health. She also says that she's most inspired by her parents ("My mother has always been my Queen and still is. She has always been so strong and is filled with humanity", "No matter how tired she was, she was always professional, loving, and nurturing."; "My father constantly encouraged me to write my own songs and create my own vision. He is the reason I wrote and produced at such a young age."). That woman is so well-spoken and genuine you can't help but feel warm while reading it and she doesn't feel the need of throwing unnecessary 'smart people' words to seem that way.

Reading Taylor's "Person of the Year" profile and Beyonce's 'Entering 40s' interview were completely different experiences. And as a result, one of them lost a fan and the other gained one. I wish Tree Paine would stop Taylor from giving these interviews because everytime she does, she comes across as tone-deaf, out of touch, mentally stuck overgrown teenager, try-hard bratty diva who can't stand being not the only one praised.

Anyway, I'd recommend to read the full interview and watching her new film. I've watched it yesterday and got the urge of turning my life around. That lady is truly such a light.

Taylor's friend list also includes 'Mr. and Mrs. plantation with slave cabins on the property wedding', 'a sex offender and a SA apologist as the newest addition', 'Ms. "I assaulted my own sister", ' an insecure and whiny music producer who likes to stir drama on Taylor's behalf'. And not to mention that she's dated a nazi this year and her newest flavour of the month is a fatphobic jock with a double digit iq, her father is also an avid republican voter. I think the people she surrounds herself with tell about her more than she does herself.

And concluding with two cents about Joe Alwyn. I'm glad she's out of his life. While I was a swiftie I've watched his interviews and he always came across as a very gentle, calm, well-spoken and a bit introverted man. And she's... well, her. I also think that she'd held him back in her job in regards of producers and directors not wanting their work to be overshadowed by 'Taylor's BF is in this' articles. I'm hoping he does more projects in the future or maybe dips his toes in writing and directing something because clearly he's a talented writer.

Sorry for the long rant, had to get it out of my system <3

I love reading your rants, keep it coming. they are so on point.

#anti taylor swift #swifties dni #joe alwyn

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mayabunny23 · 6 months

Text

Cringe ass Headcanons about the Don't Starve Together Gang's gender and sexuality

Wilson - Aroace He cares more about science and being a smart ass than he does romance or sex.

Willow - Lesbian She seems like the type of girl that scares men away on purpose... Gremlin woman.

Wolfgang - Aroace He would rather settle down with a friend than a lover. The man also sees most of the people in the group as friends.

Wendy - Aroace She is a kid but even if she was an adult, her grief for her sister is stronger than any love for someone (be is romantic or what not)

WX-78 - Non-binary & Aroace They are canonically non-binary so the obvious is obvious. They don't feel romantic feelings but they can feel many other forms of love... they are not truly emotionless.

Wickerbottom - Asexual Biromantic She wouldn't mind a partner to help her at her library but she might not go with any of the people here... except maybe Wanda.

Woodie - Pansexual More like axe-sexual... Wait wouldn't that make every ship with him a polycule? He loves Lucy but if he was to love someone that wasn't a talking axe, he wouldn't care what gender they are.

Wes - Demiboy & Asexual Wes feels like the type to be referred to with he / them... Be it because of the character he plays or because that's what they refers to themself as.

Maxwell - Bisexual "I miss my wife, Wilson... I miss her a lot... I'll be back." he swings both ways but uh... who wants this pathetic man outside of Charlie?

Wigfrid - Demigirl & Bisexual This queen of theater (Sorry Charlie) uses she / them much the same way Wes does... that and she is just cool like that. Oh and she likes people.

Webber - Demiboy & Aroace His reasoning for being demiboy is because he is literally two beings and the spider is a they / it... also same thing as Wendy, his fixation on bugs and critters is stronger than dumb romantic love. (If he was like an adult)

Winona - Butch [Lesbian] Obvious thing is obvious, she has a girlfriend back on Earth that thinks she's dead. Also like look at her, she is straight up very butch leaning.

Warly - Gay The other side of the spectrum, Warly is probably gay... Totally not because Waokevale and another person influenced me with Warly x Woodie...

Wortox - Aroace Mortal concepts as "love" and "sex" doesn't interest this imp, he is only after chaos and fun.... Also Wortox gives zero DAMNs what pronouns you use on Wortox.

Wormwood - Non-Binary & Aroace The lad doesn't know or really feel that type of stuff [And it's not because he is a "kid", he is an adult.], Wormwood only uses he / him pronouns on himself because they sound nice but he doesn't mind any pronouns really.

Wurt - Aroace Wurt is a kid and she's more focus on creating a merm kingdom and learning to really care.

Walter - Aroace Kid doesn't care about romance but probably had a crush at some point.

Wanda - Asexual Lesbian Wanda doesn't have time to have sex with your mother, she is trying not to turn into dust.

Wonkey - Literally not even a real character.

If you scrolled down this far or read this, thanks! this is probably hell to read for people with like... reading issues (I have some form of it, don't worry)

I might do the DLC characters from Don't Starve next but uh... maybe never, just need to remember they exist.

ALSO!!!!!!! If none of the headcanons suit you then be happy knowing they are HEADcanons and are not real...

ALSO Also... sorry for no art bros, been doodling ocs shit for discord server and no one would be interested in that.

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silentglassbreak · 3 months

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Please please , write something. Noah and Lily, she is designer and painter, they are working together on design for new album or merch, or something like that. She is redhead, have freckles, have a lot of tattoos, like to wearing skirts and sundresses. thank you! I love your work so so much 💔💔🥲

Bb you are my first ask! So, naturally, you have my undying love and affection for eternity!

Also, this physical description is giving me such inspiration. My best friend has a very similar physical appearance, so this will be fun!! (I just finished this and OMG this got away from me. I did not intend for this to be this long...I really got into this one. I hope you enjoy!)

So let’s get into this, shall we?

Rating: Mature (for language)

Warnings: None.

Into The Ocean

What did I think would happen when I moved to New York City? That I would get here, put a few paintings in some galleries, and suddenly I’d be making millions? How fucking insane am I?

My inner monologue continued as I catatonically stirred my bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes, moping heavily.

It had been six months since I moved here on a whim and a breath of a dream, thinking that with my ‘sparkling personality’, ‘adorably good looks’, and ‘raw talent’ I’d be a success so quick. These days, however, I spent a lot of time wishing I had stayed back home in Hartford, in my Mom’s two bedroom home, with my dog and my normalcy.

No, couldn’t be me. I had to go off with delusions of grandeur, and get myself a full time job as a desk girl at a law firm (which sucked), and had virtually no time to paint like I wanted. My studio apartment in Queens was big enough for me; a bed, a small table, and my paint supplies. I had a clothes rack for my small wardrobe, and a television on the wall adjacent to my bed. My minimal belongings were strewn haphazardly around with no real method. It felt much like my life - off kilter.

Frustrated, I decided to get off the bed, still holding my bowl, and stared at the cereal floating sadly in the milk. It looked so pathetic, the same as I felt.

My eyes wandered to the floor, then the edge of the bed, and eventually to the right of it, where the seven-foot by four-foot canvas sat.

I had that particular canvas since my first day here in New York. I swore that canvas would hold my best work. The piece that would change everything for me. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch it until I was certain I knew what it would be, and was ready.

But now? Staring at it? It mocked me. Day in, day out, it reminded me that I was just another struggling artist in this God forsaken jungle of a city made of concrete and exploitation. It laughed at me. It told me I had failed.

Without realizing it, my arm shot the bowl in my hand clear across the room, the milk and flakes splattering all over my bed, and eventually spraying the canvas. It left a sickly gray hue against the stark white vastness behind it, giving me a sense of anger. A sense of rage.

Climbing up onto my bed, my feet digging into the mattress while I reached for the shelf above it, grabbing random paints from the bowl they lived in. I hastily twisted the caps off of each, my breathing becoming frantic as I felt the sudden anxiety surge through me.

Once the tubes were open, I didn’t bother with my palette, or my brushes, I just squeezed the tubes, three in each hand, until they all sprayed like firehoses over the canvas, all in varying shades of blue and black. I hadn’t even realized I only grabbed blue and black paint.

Finally, after several minutes of raging, smearing paint across the canvas with no structure, using my palms and fingers, I stepped back. The anger and fire in my chest had dulled. I took a step back, and caught a glimpse of myself in my wall-length mirror across the room, and cringed.

Navy blue paint streaked my pale yellow shorts and faded UC t-shirt. I had a large glob of black paint on my face near my hairline, turning that spot of my red waves a midnight color. I needed a shower.

Now that I had thoroughly ruined my clothes, bed, walls, and canvas, I elected to head for the bathroom to clean myself up before the process of cleaning my apartment.

However, as I turned away from the canvas, I caught a sight of it in my peripheral, and something in my brain sparked. The blues and blacks, which turned dark grey when mixed. The lines and swirls they fell in. The non-uniformity of it all.

Waves.

Ocean.

Chaos.

And like that, I was climbing back up on my bed, ready to finish my painting.

It was after 5AM, and I only had three hours before I had to be back at work before I finished. When I did, I gasped at what I saw in front of me.

It was superb.

The waves crashed everywhere as the moon hung low in the sky, storm clouds covering. Amidst the maelstrom that was the ocean, there was one large, beautiful, impossibly sad octopus, thrashing in the waves, bleeding from the eyes.

The octopus was a deep gray, blending but also naturally contrasting the color of the waves, deep crimson blood running from its desperate eyes.

It was painful. It was despondent. It was powerful.

This was it.

Forty-two days had passed, and I was struggling to breathe as my hands trembled where they sat in my pockets, watching the droves of people walk by me. I did my best to smooth down the skirt of my lime-green sundress and tugged at the lapels of my denim jacket. My hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, leaving my waves to cascade down my back loosely, out of my face.

The sun above provided a warmth that was needed, but I had forgotten SPF today, which meant I would likely have a fresh batch of freckles on my cheeks to add to all the others. Today had to be the day. Something in my skin told me it did.

I had been to three art fairs, two open galleries, and a fine arts convention, trying to get something, anything sold.

Three days after I finished my piece, I was told that Burgen & Black no longer needed my position, so this was all I had right now. This, and the three hundred dollars my mom loaned me when I told her I was a little short on rent.

Rent wouldn’t be an issue soon if I didn’t sell anything, as cardboard boxes are real cheap.

This open fair was in Central Park, mid-September, so it was comfortable outside. The sun was getting low, causing a golden sky to reach overhead. I had been here all day, and was beginning to feel defeated.

I hadn’t sold as much as one print. One painting.

After staring at the crowds for another twenty-minutes, I finally decided to start packing up. It was a long bus ride back to Queens, and I would be too cold after dark.

Stuffing a handful of my prints into my portfolio bag, I huffed at myself, shaking my head.

Maybe it was time to go home. Maybe being an artist just wasn’t where I fit. Maybe I did need to reconsider college. It wasn’t too late. Twenty-six was an easy age, right?

“Is this all you?”

A sharp, deep voice snapped me out of my thoughts, making me spin on my heel, to see who was standing at my booth, scanning the pieces set up on the table.

The first thing I noticed was how tall he was. He had at least a foot of height on me. I noticed next that he was covered everywhere in tattoos. The long expanse of his arms that led to the bit of his chest I could see behind his tank top was littered. It made my mouth dry.

His hair was short, hidden under a ball cap, sunglasses perched on his nose.

It took me a moment of staring before I realized he had asked me a question.

“Oh, uh,” I walked back to the table, standing directly in front of him. “yeah these are my works.”

He nodded, looking down at the table and flipping fingers through the prints.

“I like them. They’re different.”

I gave my best ‘please buy this’ smile, and nodded.

“Thank you. I just paint what I feel. It helps me deal.”

He smirked. “I get that.” His eyes came back up to my face. “Not the painting. I can’t do that. But having something to help you deal? I get that.”

That’s interesting. “Yeah? What do you use to deal?”

He flashed his teeth at me. “Music.”

Oh, brother. A musician. Any awe I was feeling was dissolving. I had yet to meet one that was worth his salt in anything, let alone carrying a tune.

“Ah, well, different animal, same results?” I tried not to sound disinterested.

“How much for the prints?”

I felt my lungs tighten. Money?!

“Ten, but it’s two for eighteen.”

He smirked. “What would a hundred get me?”

If I had not caught it quick enough, my eyes would have bugged out of my head. I stifled a cough to cover up my surprise.

“Uh,” I looked around. No one had purchased one hundred dollars of my work before. Not all at once. “Seven prints? Or four prints and a canvas or two? Depends on size.”

I pointed to the side of my table, there I had a cardboard box full of canvases. He glanced over, and turned so he could see better.

With a ‘hmph’, he squatted down and looked through them, nodding at some, disregarding others.

Eventually, he came back up and had two smaller canvases perched in his hands.

A painting I had done of ravens when I was sat in a cemetery one day for inspiration, and one of a dark room that held a single bright red wood chair. That had come to me in a dream.

“Okay, and I’ll take these four prints.” He handed me the laminated copies and gave me a sweet, polite smile.

“Sounds good, it’ll be a hundred even.”

“Can you take card?” My face fell. I couldn’t handle my rent and groceries, let alone a card reader.

He must have noticed, because he raised his eyebrows.

“Got Zelle?”

I nodded, pulling my phone out, a rush of relief washing over me. I gave him my phone number, and he pulled me up, transferring a cool one hundred dollars into my account. My stomach flipped. I was halfway to rent with my borrowed cash, and I still had two weeks before it was due.

It was the first shred of hope I had felt in a while.

“Noah!” A male voice called before a shorter man bounded up, and my eyes popped open.

Nick Folio, the drummer from Bad Omens, stood in front of my table, and I just about fell over with a stroke.

My mouth was hung open, in pure disbelief. It hadn’t even occurred to me who he had called for.

Folio held a plastic bag, having clearly grabbed something else from another table.

“There’s a guy selling homemade lures, dude. I bought six!” His teeth flashed in excitement, and my customer shook his head, smiling.

“You’re going to go broke buying those things.”

It was in that moment it dawned on me. That voice. Those tattoos. Those sinfully long fingers…

“Are you Noah Sebastian?” My words came out rushed, before I could stop them.

A sly grin fell over his lips. “Never heard of him.” He smoothly turned around, preparing to leave. “Thanks for the artwork.”

Folio gave me a small wave before following Noah. I was frozen.

I just met one half of Bad Omens. I had sold artwork to Noah Sebastian. He liked my art. I couldn’t breathe.

It took me a solid ten minutes before I could move, then packing my things and heading for the bus with my bag and box in arms, glancing around the park a few times for a familiar ball cap and forbidden fruit tattoo.

Nine days have passed since I unexpectedly met Noah Sebastian and Nick Folio, and it had been heavy on my mind until the stress of my rent became the reason I was laying awake at night.

With no other real resolve, my hunt for another nine-to-five not getting very far, I found myself trekking back to Central Park, ready to set up another table. I had fresh prints, and a dozen new canvasses to hopefully sell.

Now that we had crossed the threshold into October, the air was becoming more brisk. Today, I had elected to wear a floor-length forest green skirt with a white crop top, my black zip hoodie keeping my arms warm.

Today was more lively, giving me the opportunity to sell six prints and four canvasses by noon. I had made my rent, and was working on the power bill next. I had slightly raised my prices, given my circumstances, but I justified it with the need to survive.

Did I expect to run into him again? Not at all. In fact, I had convinced myself that my once in a lifetime chance to meet him had passed, and I should be excited about it. I was a Bad Omens fan, and had been since their second album. Their style of music was absolutely cathartic for me, giving me inspiration on more than one occasion while painting.

So, imagine my surprise, when I heard the same deep, smooth voice while I was reorganizing my canvasses.

“Back again?” This time, he wore a hoodie, beanie over his hair, and no sunglasses. His eyes were so big, so brown. I wanted to stare at them for hours.

I snorted. “Me? I could say the same to you?”

He leaned his hand on the table, smiling down at where I was crouched in front of my box.

“Selling a lot?”

Triumphantly grinning, I stood up, leaning my palms on the table. “Actually, yeah. It’s been weird. Central Park isn’t normally a hot spot for me, but today has been great!”

There was a flash of thirty-two stunning teeth, and I held myself upright.

“Maybe the word is spreading?”

“Maybe. Going to buy anything today?”

Raising a row, he scanned the table, tapping on one print. “This one is nice. How much?”

“Fifteen.”

His head snapped up, bewildered look on his face.

“It was ten last week?”

A sheepish blush crept over my face, and I tried to be sweet, brushing some of my loose hair behind my ear.

“Yeah, uh,” I couldn’t look right at him. “I had to raise the price a little. Living cost’s a bitch.” I shrugged.

He looked absolutely amused. “I see.” He pulled his phone out, and began tapping at something I couldn’t see. Afterwards, he picked up the print he chose, and gave me a two finger salute.

“Thanks a lot, Red.”

I smirked, feeling the phone vibrate in my pocket. I ignored it for now and approached a young couple who had walked over to my table. I did, however, watch as Noah left, making his way straight out of the park, not stopping at any other tables.

Finally home, I flopped down on my bed, and let my eyes fall closed for just a moment. I had called it early, feeling exuberant and deciding I deserved an afternoon to just relax, not painting, not trying to find a job, just snacking and watching Netflix.

Slipping my phone out of my pants pocket, I sat up, seeing some missed messages and scrolling through my notifications.

When I came to the last one, I nearly dropped my phone.

Zelle Notification: Noah Davis sent you $100.

My jaw dropped. He only bought one print. Why would he give me so much? He must have done it by mistake.

I bit my lip, bothered. I felt guilty, as if I had stolen the money from him. People were generous, but no one was that generous...right?

Staring at my Zelle account, I took a deep breath, and tapped on the transaction, pulling up the details. My finger hovered over Noah's name, wondering if I'd just get his email. After counting three calculated breaths, I finally tapped it, and a phone number flashed under the name.

Oh God, I had Noah Sebastian's phone number.

It was me being a good samaritan that caused me to pull up a text thread, and begin typing a message. The voice in the back of my head screamed at me that I could just sent eighty-five dollars back, and not invade his privacy by texting him.

But...

Me: Noah?

After hitting send, I physically tossed my phone on the mattress, and pulled my knees up to my chest, breathing erratic. I sat in absolute silence, waiting. Each passing second made my soul fall. What if it wasn't his personal cell he used for Zelle? He was a somewhat celebrity, after all. Would he really just casually give his number out to a random girl in the park?

My phone chimed, and I thought my carotid was going to blow out of my neck. Shaking fingers lifted the phone.

Noah: Who is this?

No confirmation of identity, but the number worked.

I went to type a response, telling him who I was, until I realized I never gave him my name. Sure, I had signed my art, but my signature was decently illegible.

Chewing my lip, I wracked my brain for the right response.

Me: Red.

The text bubbles had turned blue, and I saw he had received and read the message, but his type signal hadn't come up yet.

I was insane, I had to be.

Noah: LOL you mean Lily?

My blood ran cold.

Me: How do you know my name?

Noah: Well, much like my own, your Zelle tells me your first and last name.

I felt like such a moron. Of course it did.

Me: Oh, LOL yeah I didn't think of that.

I typed out another message, before I forgot.

Me: You sent me too much for that print!

Noah: No I didn't.

Me: You did. You sent me $100.

Me: I can send back $85.

Noah: Don't you dare.

This made me pause, already on the Zelle screen, his message flashing as a banner on top, making my fingers halt.

Me: Noah, I can't take that from you for one print.

Noah: ...because...?

Me: Because it's way too much! I appreciate it, but I'm not comfortable with that.

He waited a few minutes, his type bubble appearing and disappearing a few times.

Noah: So I'll buy something else from you, then.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: What would you like?

Noah: You have a portfolio online?

I sighed, embarrassed. My online presence was close to nonexistent. I had an Instagram, with all of five photos on it, and they were all four months old. I didn't have a website, not having the money to create one yet.

Me: I don't, I'm sorry.

Noah: Studio I can check out?

I stared at the screen, and laughed loudly. Oh, I've got a studio alright. Just not what he's thinking of.

Me: Not exactly. I'm a very small artist. I do all of my work out of my apartment.

Noah: Which is where?

My heart sunk. No way. Not letting him in my four hundred square foot, paint covered, disarrayed apartment.

Me: Queens.

I stayed vague.

Noah: Oh yeah, I'm over in Central Park West right now.

I sighed, relieved, and slightly disappointed.

Me: I can send you some pictures of my work? I'll just need a few to take them.

Noah: Can you just FaceTime? Seems faster.

How on Earth did we get here? I was going to FaceTime with a rockstar, and show him my paintings? This couldn't be real life.

Me: Sure. Call when you're ready.

I walked over to the corner of my studio that I kept my completed works in, a sheet thrown over the large canvas in an attempt protect the paint from the sun rays. I had yet to take that one anywhere yet. I hadn't found the right venue to sell.

After about five minutes, my phone began vibrating in my hand, and I looked down to see his name flashing.

My heart was beating so frantically, I was sure it would disconnect and come out of my throat.

I swiped the call open, and held the camera at the most flattering angle I could. Once the call connected, he sat on what appeared to be a staircase, somewhere outside, same beanie on his head from earlier, and was smiling into the camera.

"Hey!"

His enthusiasm surprised me, and I waved nervously, smiling back at him.

"Hi."

"Why do you look so uneasy? Are you being held hostage or something?"

My face fell, wildly confused by his comment. "What?"

His laugh echoed through the receiver, which made this weird jittery thing happen in my stomach.

"I'm just joking. You just look uncomfortable." He pulled his beanie down more, and I swallowed dryly, trying to giggle.

"Oh, yeah. No I'm good."

He sat back, elbow resting on the step behind him. "You sure?"

I felt like we weren't getting past this point. "Can I be honest?"

He didn't respond, just gestured for me to continue.

"I'm a fan. A big fan. So, yeah, I'm a little nervous."

His smile could've illuminated a small town.

"Oh yeah?" He ran a hand over his face. "Don't be. I'm just a guy."

Feeling rebellious, I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. A guy who hundreds of thousands of girls would kill to FaceTime with."

This made him blush, so he looked down. "Ah, I don't know about that."

I decided to press my luck. "I do."

He furrowed his brow, smirking. "Oh yeah? So you're just that lucky, huh?"

This made me grin, in near disbelief. "Ah, the great Noah Sebastian. Cocky, huh?"

This made him laugh again, to which I joined.

"Nah. Like, I said, I'm just a guy. Really cool to know you're a fan, though." I nodded in response. "Ever seen us live?"

I shook my head. "Cost of living's a bitch. You think I can afford concert tickets?"

He shrugged. "Fair enough, dude."

"Anyways, you want me to show you the artwork?"

He agreed, and I flipped the camera around, scanning through the various pieces I had out in the corner. At his request, I would get closer to a piece, or pull it up to the camera. I watched as his eyes would get close to the phone, analyzing each canvas.

"I really like the desert painting." He was referring to a painting I had done that was slightly more abstract of a desert with random melted items such as longhorn skulls, cacti, and pieces of driftwood. They melted into the sand below.

"Okay. That would bring your total with the print earlier to fifty, since this one is bigger."

He nodded. "Do you have anything for fifty even?"

Biting my lip, I scanned my eyes, landing on a painting I had of a black cat, perched on the edge of a pond, cleaning it's paw, a skeletal hand reaching out of the water for it. The painting was done in nearly all neon colors, which was different for me.

"This one." I held it up in the camera.

"Oh dude, that's fucking sick." He pulled back from the camera. "I'll take it."

I chuckled. "Okay, do you want me to ship them?"

I flipped the camera back around, and he raised an eyebrow at me. "To Central Park West?"

I shrugged. "I could."

"Nah. I can get them from you. I don't live in New York and I leave back home for LA this weekend."

This made my chest sink only a little. "Right, I can ship them there if you want?"

He shook his head. "Let's meet up and I can get them?" I hesitated to respond, and I swear I saw a flash of concern on his face. "Unless you've got plans or something."

This made me smirk. "We didn't even say when? How would I know if I had plans?"

He huffed out a laugh, grabbing his beanie off of his head and smiling. "Sorry, you're right."

"When do you want to meet?"

"Tonight? I'm busy most of the week, but I'd really like to get my stuff soon."

Pondering this, I sat down on my bed, back to my art corner. "Where?"

"There's an Italian restaurant near my hotel. We can get dinner?"

I'm going to dinner with Noah fucking Sebastian?!

"Sure. Just text me the address?" He nodded in response. "What time?"

"Whatever time works best for you, Red."

I rolled my eyes. "You know my name, Noah."

A small wink, and he smiled. "I know, Lily. I just like your hair."

My face turned a deep shade of crimson, and I felt the urge to pull at my long red waves.

"Well, if that's the plan, I'm going to get ready. I have to leave a while before you to catch the subway."

I stood off the bed and went to turn, but he spoke and stopped me.

"Hey, what's that behind you?"

I turned, scanning. "What?"

"Under the sheet."

It occurred to me what he was referring to, and I waved it off.

"Just another piece."

"Can I see it?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I haven't shown anyone yet."

"So? I can be the first!" He seemed so excited, which made me giggle.

"It's an emotion piece. Not like the others."

He raised a brow. "Still not hearing why I can't see it."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I shrugged. "Alright, but don't get too excited. It's not as clean and precise as my other work."

He just shrugged, and I reached over, pulling the sheet off the canvas, and flipped the camera.

I watched his eyes, scanning the screen over and over. He looked so enamored, I was confused. Was the connection bad?

"Noah? You okay?"

He leaned back, blinking. "Lily, that's fucking amazing!"

I laughed, stepping closer to the painting. "It's okay. It's a rage painting. Something I started in a fit, and kind of worked into what it is now."

"I can tell. You can feel the pain in the image. The colors are unbelievable."

"Oh, I don't know. It's okay."

"Okay? Red, that painting is unreal. How much do you want for it?"

His question caught me by surprise, nearly knocking me down. "What?"

"How much? I want it." He was so matter of fact, that the air rushed out of me.

"I haven't priced it. It's a big piece, bigger than anything else I've ever done."

"Okay, well tell me what you think, because I'll pay a lot for it."

My heart began stammering, words not forming on my lips. "Y-You really want it?"

"I don't just want it; I want to use it."

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you at dinner. Just do me a favor? Think about a price? I really want that painting."

We agreed to meet at 7PM, but I was late. The subway had been packed, and I missed the first one. I didn't come jogging up to the front of the restaurant until fifteen after, seeing Noah stood outside, same outfit on as earlier today. I had to calm my insides at the sight.

I waved when he caught a glimpse of me, earning a smile in my direction.

"Hey, Red!"

I rolled my eyes. He wasn't letting that go.

"Hi, Noah."

When I approached, he put an arm out, and wrapped it around my shoulders casually. I had to take several deep breaths to remind myself that, like he said, he's just a guy.

An attractive guy. With tattoos. And the voice of an angel.

And this wasn't a date...right? This was a transaction...right?!

Trying to shake off the thoughts, I handed him the bag on my arm.

"Your goodies."

He smiled and took the bag, looking inside. "Nice. Thank you."

I followed him into the restaurant, which didn't look too terribly fancy. We were dressed casually, as were most people here. We were sat at a small table, a little dish with butter and rolls already in the middle.

We sat down, and began scanning the menus. The prices jumped out at me as relatively expensive, and I knew I would be taking my work out again tomorrow to make back the money I would be spending tonight.

Noah ordered a beer. I ordered water.

Noah ordered a steak with linguine on the side. I ordered a salad.

This caught his attention. "You don't want more than a salad and water?"

I hid behind my glass, shrugging. "Not the most hungry."

"Hm," He sat back and eyed me. "okay. For now."

The fuck does that mean?

"So have you given any more thought to how much you want for that painting?" He spoke before I could respond.

"I haven't. I really don't know, Noah." I shook my head, thinking. "Three hundred?"

His eyes widened. "No way, man. It's worth way more."

I was dumbstruck. "Are you asking me to charge you more?"

"Fuck yeah I am. That painting is worth ten grand, at the very least."

As badly as I wanted not to, and prayed I hadn't, I spit my water out onto the table, spraying my salad. My face immediately turned bright red, matching my hair.

"Excuse me?!"

He seemed very unfazed. "What?"

"Did you say ten grand? As in ten thousand?" He nodded. "Dollars?!"

He rolled his eyes. "No. Marshmallows."

Without thought, I picked up a cherry tomato and tossed it at him, bouncing it off of his hand on his plate. He glanced up at me, mouth open, amused.

"Did you just throw a tomato at me?"

I pressed my lips together in a very small, devious grin. "Maybe."

He picked up the tomato between two long fingers, considered it for a moment, and popped it in his mouth.

"I've never had that happen. And I'm a singer."

This made me laugh. "Oh God."

He wiped his mouth on his napkin. "Seriously, though, Red. You need to price your stuff fairly. Don't accept less than what you're worth."

I leaned back in my chair, considering this. "So, you want to pay me ten thousand for my painting?"

He shook his head. "I don't." My heart sunk for a second. "My label will, though."

My eyebrows shot up. "Pardon? The label?"

He was chewing some steak, and waited to swallow before he responded. I found myself staring at the apple on his throat bobbing.

"I want that painting to be our next album cover."

I felt my jaw physically hit the floor, break through the table and all. I was hallucinating.

"You...what?"

"I've been looking for months. I had been looking at photography until very recently, because I just wasn't finding anything that worked. I started scouting art fairs and galleries almost a year ago."

My eyes were blinking at an alarming rate.

"So, that's why you came to Central Park twice, then."

He smirked, lifting the beer bottle to his lips. "That's why I came to your table twice, yes."

I was pushing my salad around on the plate, not looking at him. "Ah, and here I was thinking you came back to see me." I looked up and gave him the cheekiest smile I could, joking.

Snorting, he flashed his teeth again. "Well, that too."

My stomach stuttered, and I set my fork down. I folded my arms on the table, looking straight at him.

"You're serious? You really want my painting for the album?"

He put his hands in his sweater pockets and leaned forward, so his face was hovering over the table.

"I'm dead serious." His tongue slipped over his bottom lip, catching my attention. "There's more to it than just buying it. We'd have to purchase rights from you, so you can't sell copies."

I raised a brow, now intrigued. "Oh?"

He leaned back again. "I don't want anyone else having our original piece that you did. We would, of course, credit you on the album, and maybe even ask you to do some additional work for the rest of the art?"

There was a lump in my throat I couldn't swallow. "Rest of the art?"

"Yeah. The back of the album. The vinyl casing and variants. Merch, maybe?"

I couldn't breathe. It was so hot all of a sudden.

Noah could sense my panic. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to overwhelm you."

I gulped down half of my water at once. "No, I just..." I trailed off, staring at the tablecloth. "I've never had anyone want my artwork that bad."

He smiled. "Isn't the point to sell it? Success?"

"Well sure, but to go from selling prints and small canvasses in the parks to doing artwork for a huge band like Bad Omens? That's a bit of a step." I stared at him, trying to mask my anxiety, and failing horribly.

"I don't know if I'd call us huge." His smirk was coy, and I rolled my eyes.

"Wow. Cocky." I echoed my earlier statement, and this made him giggle like a child.

"Listen, think about it? In the meantime, can I ask a favor?" I didn't respond. "Don't sell any copies of that? Once you do, I can't use it."

I shrugged, and nodded, agreeing.

Two weeks had gone by, and I had not seen Noah since the night at the restaurant. I had re-covered the canvas, but the question replayed in my mind over and over.

Noah had decided to buy more pieces off of me, bringing my profits up to six hundred, which had my utilities paid this month and a small batch of groceries in the refrigerator. I agreed to ship them as soon as I could, but he kept telling me to take my time.

I knew what he really wanted to ask, but he held back.

I had thought about it over and over, trying hard to not let my bias toward Noah, or the bad, sway me.

This was a big step. Not owning my own art? Being pressured to make more that met a standard? Being under a contract? That wasn't what I got into this for. This wasn't why I became an artist and moved here. One of the best parts about creating something that you love, is that you get to do it freely. Once you have to do it, or do it a certain way, it becomes all too tedious. It's work now. I wasn't sure I'd be happy with it.

But on the flipside, there was a strange thrill at the idea. Someone wants my painting bad enough that they are willing to give me so much leeway financially, I can paint whenever I want. I'll get exposure. This could be what does it.

This painting could change everything.

And that was the point, right? I bought the canvas telling myself that this was the piece that changed it all. This was my ticket to success. And here it was, in front of me...

Ripping the sheet off of the canvas, I stared at it. The waves crashed over one another. The moon, bright, but somehow so ominous, shone through, bouncing off of the water in a way that made them look almost silver. The octopus, tentacles scattered amongst the waves, stared at me, bleeding eyes seeing through my soul.

"Is this what I'm supposed to do?" I asked the creature. I was met with silence. Loud, deafening, overwhelming silence.

"Fuck it."

I picked up my phone from the bed, bringing up my recent text thread with Noah, smiling at the meme he had sent earlier in the day.

I typed out a quick message, and sighed when I saw he read it quickly, and responded even quicker.

Me: I'm in.

Noah: Oh FUCK yeah!

Six months ago, I met Noah Sebastian for the first time, and he bought some of my art for a hundred dollars. Five and a half weeks ago, he bought more of my art for a hundred more dollars.

Five months ago exactly, his record label offered me twelve thousand dollars for my painting, and the rights to it, and offered me a contract to complete and provide artwork for all pieces surrounding their upcoming album, with an overall gross value of eighty-two thousand dollars to be paid up front, with the understanding that I would provide the artwork within one year of the contract signing.

Naturally, I was a mess.

Still living in my studio apartment, I had rented a painting studio six blocks from my apartment, and spent near all of my time there. I had completed the entire album artwork, maintaining the theme of the original piece, but adding in major twists in each installment.

So far, the label, the band, and mostly Noah, were pleased.

But today, I was stressed. There was one insert in the vinyl copy of the album that needed artwork. It needed a standalone piece, and I was drawing a vivid blank. I had been staring at the 3 foot by 2 foot canvas for two hours, paintbrush twirling between my paint-stained fingers. My old, ratted jeans were blotched with deep blue paint from my last attempt, which had been scrapped.

I was getting nowhere way too fast, and needed a break. I stood from my stool, and pulled my t-shirt off, standing in only my dark red sports bra to fight against the heat. I kept it warm in the studio to keep the paint from hardening in the palette.

Pacing back and forth, music pumping through my Bluetooth speaker, I sighed. I needed emotion. I needed something to throw at this damn thing, like before.

My phone quieted the music for a moment, and I snatched it to check.

Noah: In town this weekend. Want to get lunch?

As badly as I wanted to, I just couldn't.

Me: I can't. Trying to get this piece done.

Noah: Want me to bring you food? Can't paint on an empty stomach.

Considering this, I pursed my lips. He wasn't wrong.

I responded with the address to the studio.

Forty-five minutes later, and Noah was pushing his way into the small studio, bags of Chinese in his hands. I was sat on the stool, still staring at the blank canvas, twirling my brush, and didn't even look at him.

"Hey!" He set the bags down on the table on the far side of the room. "You haven't started yet?"

A hard, deep growl came out of me, and I chucked my brush at the ground, hearing it clatter. I stood, fingers gripping my hair at the root.

He threw his hands up. "Woah, it's okay! I wasn't trying to say anything to upset you."

I took a deep breath, letting go of my mop of hair. "You didn't. I'm just drawing such a fucking blank! I can't figure out what to paint for this insert!"

He tightened his lips, putting his hands in his jean pockets.

"What usually helps?"

"Anger! And I've got plenty! But I've still got fucking nothing!" My foot kicked the stool, sliding it several feel away.

He took a step forward, toward me, hands coming out in front of him.

"Okay, so anger isn't working. Any other emotions we can use?"

I raised an eyebrow, halting my pacing. "What do you mean?" My words were sharp, and he cracked an amused smile.

"You're a real fireball, clearly, Red. But, do you have other emotions we can channel?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Of course I have other emotions."

"Like?"

Suddenly feeling cornered, I squeezed my eyes closed, breathing deeply.

"I don't know." I looked up at him. "Sadness? Depression?"

He snickered. "Why all negative emotions?"

"What?"

"Why not joy? Enthusiasm? Excitement?" He looked so genuine, it almost hurt my heart, because I was so angry and it wasn't his fault.

I paced over to the stool, coming down with a screech against the floor. "Sorry." I confessed. "This is just hard to do under pressure, you know?"

He nodded, standing next to me, a soft hand coming down on my mid-back, rubbing slow circles on my bare skin.

"I get it. More than most, I think." I looked up at him. "But if what you're used to isn't working, then we have to do something different."

I scrubbed a hand over my face, and smiled weakly. "How?"

He pursed his lips, and his hand came under my arm, pulling me up from the stool. "Grab your brush."

Opting for a fresh one, I held it in front of me, and waited for further instruction.

He smiled, and put both hands on my shoulders, pulling me toward the easel and canvas. I followed absently, trying not to focus on my skin tingling where he was touching me.

"Okay," He moved behind me, pushing me closer to the canvas. "pick a color."

I chuckled, and leaned over to the palette to my right, picking up a deep navy on my brush.

Satisfied, he squeezed my biceps for a second before letting his hands fall away.

"Now, close your eyes."

I turned my head to look at him skeptically, but his eyes pleaded with me, so I obeyed, holding my loaded brush and letting my lids fall closed.

The room fell impossibly quiet, and I could feel his presence heavy behind me. The sensation brought goosebumps to my warm skin.

I was nearly startled when I felt his fingers brush my thick hair over my shoulder, and his breath came across my ear.

"Now," His voice was baritone, so raspy and so close to me. "I want you to picture what you're feeling at this very moment."

Feeling? What is feeling? Who am I ?

"Picture your emotions. Picture them as colors. Objects. Lights." He let out a deep exhale that washed over my neck, making me shiver.

"What if I can't?" My voice was small.

A large, strong hand grasped my right hip, pulling me to lean slightly backward, pressing against the front of his body.

"You can. I know you can."

The fingers of his other and were trailing up my hip, tracing patters over the tattoos on my ribcage.

"You know how to do this, Lily. Just see what you feel."

I wanted to push this. I wanted to see how far I could take it.

Eyes still closed, I let my lips turn up ever so slightly. "What if I can't feel enough, yet?"

His chest, pressed against my back, trembled with quiet laughter, "No? You need more stimulation?"

Jesus this guy's is going to murder me.

"Maybe." I smiled slyly.

His lips ghosted over the side of my neck just under my ear, his hand on my hip slipping around the front of my waist and pulling me even closer.

"What if I," His lips trailed up my skin, grazing the flesh so gently. "give you," Up to my chin. My breath was shaking. "something to feel?"

His lips were testing mine, tip of his nose bumping my own.

The lowest, most whispered moan escaped my lips before he dipped even lower, gently pressing his lips against mine. I molded to him, body encased by his arms, lips slotting into place against his, eyes rolling back behind my lids.

The feeling exploded out of me, pouring into his mouth, hands reaching up to grip his hair.

We stood there, mouths fighting for dominance, before I pulled away, pushing his hands off of me frantically, and nearly jumped toward the canvas.

I heard him breathing heavily behind me, a low chuckle erupting from him.

"I guess it worked?"

I stopped my brush strokes, turning my head and letting my hair flip over my shoulder.

"For now. Might need more stimulation later."

#fanfic #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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strawurberries · 1 year

Text

Injury drabble <3

Summary: You're injured—not from a fight, don't you worry that little head of yours—and Vash is a little bit of a baby about it. Just some random thought collected into one, small post.

Authors Note: This isn't proofread and I'm writing this on my phone right before I go to bed because I'm a masochist apparently. Anyways, enjoy :)!

Warnings: Mentions of injuries (nothing specific).

If you got injured, in some way shape or form that wasn't related to combat, Vash would be less terrified (mind no longer screaming at him about how pathetic he is, how he cannot even keep his loved ones safe) but still definitely nervous and overbearing. He'd probably be the one panicking more than you (of course, the panic would set in after he deemed the situation as a non-emergency. Though, he wouldn't lie, anytime your injured is a bit of an emergency to him)—

"Are you okay?!?" he scrambled to your side, helping you get off the old wooden stairs you had tripped on. Hands gentle, yet steady and strong, pulling you up to your feet. His touch lingered, warmth seeping into your very soul.

"I'm fine," you smiled and dusted yourself off with a slight cringe, "jus' fell." Embarrassment overpowered the slight, dull pain that had dug its way into your lower back—that, you knew, would leave a nasty bruise.

"People die from falling you know!" He circled you like a predator, eyes observing you with the fever of a devoted man, someone who cared only for the object of their faith, their affection. After a moment he stopped before you, sighing quietly.

"Do I look dead to you??" You pushed past him with a small grin, "drama queen."

"You never know!!" he yelled after you, running at your heels.

And (this isn't because I just popped my knee outta place 💀) if you had to wear some sort of brace, he'd be hovering over you like a saint. Actually, he'd just be next to you in general. This man has separation anxiety that will even unnerve even the most callous of men. He thinks of other things besides you of course, but worry not, you're always somewhere in the back of his mind—a lingering touch, a silent kiss, a whisper of love, or a glance of divinity. You're always with him, and he's always with you. Though, that is also a literal meaning as much as it is metaphorical one.

You felt a shiver behind your neck, a tickle of something holy that hovered over warm flesh—safety, it said, you are safe. Without even turning, you knew who it was. The light whisps of his touch along your back, too scared to fully commit to contact—whether that be because he didn't wish to harm you, or was too lost in thought to realize what he's doing.

"Vash?" you tilted your head and grinned, "I'm not made of glass." Even though the brace around your wound made you itch and groan, you still were capable of doing many things—cleaning? You had done that while Vash ran to the doctor to get more pain medication. Reading? You quite after several minutes, the whistling wind and laughing children too loud to focus (but it stills counts, you think, regardless of how long you did a task). Go outside? Er—well, you tried but were swiftly stopped and hauled back to the room. You didn't complain, though now you felt like you should've.

"Hm?" his head settled on your shoulder, not paying attention to your previous words, "need anything?" Hot tangles of warm breath seeped into the air, dancing like the Faries of the night—the stars that waltzed across the sky in that cosmic sort of play that never seemed to end.

"Maybe some personal space," you mused. You didn't mean it—or maybe you did, who knows? Right now, you weren't sure what you needed—and he whined, as if he fell for your words blindly like gospel.

He huffed. "What if you need help?!"

Ah, you thought, a valid concern.

You shrugged, "this room is about ten feet wide, I'm sure you can run across to me in no time."

"But those three seconds could be life or death!"

You nuzzled into his cheek and sighed. There's was no way to win this, was there? So, instead of bickering or pinching his cheek—he always got embarrassed when you did that—you simple laughed lightly, and let your chest fall with the sunset and rise with the night. "Drama queen," you muttered.

"Hey!"

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pillowfriends · 20 days

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my thoughts on the WoT characters after book 5

before I start posting Lord of Chaos thoughts, I wanted to sum up what I think of the characters after The Fires of Heaven (and New Spring) so I can look back on it later. I’m sure I’m missing some, just listing everyone I have thoughts on.

Alanna: I have my eye on her after those sus forced bonding comments… time will tell but I don’t trust her at all. I like her though, she’s fun.

Asmodean: he was funny as hell, what a pathetic guy, and had objectively the most hilarious death in the series so far.

Aviendha: this is probably the character I have the least complicated feelings about. I just like her. she’s funny, she’s badass, her relationship with Rand is great.

Birgitte: a hot bicon. every word that comes out of her mouth is gold. she’s such a bro.

Egeanin: standout side character to me I love her so much. yes girl unlearn your cultural biases! and be unhinged and horny on main!! she better come back!!

Egwene: girl I want to like you but you're making it so hard 😭 as a character she's great. as a person I'm struggling with her dumbassery and her superiority complex and the way she's treating Nynaeve.

Elaida: she’s cringe and bad at her job but I kind of stan. she’s doing her best and it is absolutely not good enough and she’s being puppeted by the Black Ajah and only succeeded at deposing Siuan because a bunch of teenage boys stabbed people for her. I can’t even be angry at her tbh.

Elayne: book 5 was so great for Elayne. she's maturing a lot and she really shot up the list for me. her interpersonal relationships are so funny and I love how excited she is about making ter'angreal.

Faile: maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder but I miss her and want her back. she was so silly but also loved Perrin so much and I’m such a hopeless romantic that I loved the sappy parts.

Gareth Bryne: this man is a CREEP!! Siuan get AWAY from him! ugh ugh ugh. and I know it’s only going to get worse.

Galad: unfortunately this man is one of my favorite character archetypes. I didn’t vibe with him at first but now I really do.

Gawyn: I want to put him in a paper shredder. I am so angry at this man even after a full book to cool down post-coup. please let me deck him. I do think my feelings will change but right now I’m still angry as shit.

Graendal: problematic queen. do I think RJ will do anything interesting with her, probably not, but am I intrigued, yes.

Lan: THIS MAN BREAKS MY HEART DAILY. ohhhhh my god. not normal about him.

Lanfear: hmmm complicated feelings about book Lanfear. I found her introduction painful and annoying - it’s way too obvious - but she improved and I do love how crazy she is. it didn’t really sink in for me until her conversation with Rand in Tear that she’s delusional and obsessed with LTT to the point of being completely out of touch with reality, and therefore v scary. TLDR I love her now. RIP gone too soon.

Leane: I have no idea what’s cooking with her, I just have to RAFO. I’m either going to think she’s an icon or get angry at RJ for being sexist and I don’t know which.

Liandrin: the balls on this woman are actually insane, trying to Compel Moggy. she’s way too cartoonishly evil to be really interesting though. but she makes so many sexually charged dog references which I love tbh.

Logain: he’s fine I guess. hard to tell where his story is heading and he kind of hasn’t done anything.

Loial: he has never done anything wrong in his entire life, he's perfect and I love him.

Mat: I've come around and I like him now. his memory stuff is really interesting and so is the way he interacts with fate/the Pattern.

Melaine: best Wise One I love her so much.

Min: she’s never clicked with me as a character and I think her motivation is kind of dumb and repetitive. I also really dislike how salty and disrespectful she is towards Siuan but that has to do with my personal issues about the Siuan plotline so I can’t totally blame her for that.

Moghedien: I NEED to put her in a petri dish and poke her with a stick. girl you are not subtle about your petplay kink. somehow she’s scary and pathetic at the same time and I just love her a lot.

Moiraine: I can’t even put it into words. she’s my everything.

Morgase: I feel so fucking bad for her, her POVs were horrific, what a survivor. I'm excited for when she gets a bigger plotline.

Nynaeve: my favorite character who’s on page at present. first of all she has a Forsaken collared. second of all she’s so angry and I love angry women. also she has no self awareness which makes her POVs very amusing, but also sometimes devastating — I love her struggling with fear and her perceived cowardice in TFOH.

Perrin: I constantly forget he exists. not in a bad way but not really in a good way either - he’s just bland to me.

Rand: he is my idiot baby boy. go insane faster please it’s interesting.

Rahvin: good riddance you creepy fuck. not even awful in a compelling way to me, just awful. good as a character, well-written, but AAAA.

Siuan: her arc after being stilled is distressing to me and I don’t like reading it - her loss of power and influence, the way the other Aes Sedai all treat her, the sexual harassment… so I have a hard time separating that out from Siuan herself. I’m… torn. I love some of her scenes and some feel very out of left field. we’ll RAFO again.

Suroth: GIVE ME MORE. her POV was fascinating and she’s so awful.

Thom: against my best wishes, I actually like him now. he’s so dad coded and protective of Nynaeve and Elayne, and a badass, and has a good sense of humor.

Verin: what an icon!! favorite Aes Sedai bar none now that Moiraine is gone.

[inevitably there will be a part 2 when I realize I forgot some really obvious people]

#wheel of time #eve reads wot

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diabolicalcunt · 27 days

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I feel the need to pin this cause I’ve always been notorious for people loving me when they first meet me, and then finding out that my political views are not extremely liberal. So here’s all the reasons you will hate me once you get to know me. Or not. I honestly don’t care I’m just sick of the ‘You aren’t who I made you out be in my head!’ conversations.

So my unpopular opinions in no order-

1. They/them is something that’s being encouraged by big brother to see yourself as non or less human.

2. DID isn’t real and you just disassociate a specific way. I look like I’ve been drugged cause I fall down ‘inside’ myself like a well and have no reaction time and can barely speak. I’m like a sloth. You pretend to be a anime character. It’s just coping.

3. The concept of trans genocide is fear mongering by big brother and means to keep boundaries between social groups.

4. To build off 3, the push to medically transition underage children is a move by big pharmaceutical companies to create a permanent customer. Because whether you decide to stay transitioned or de transition, you’re going to be on medication for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. There’s also the whole issue with child exploitation. You’ll be judgmental against Dance Moms, but you won’t say anything about a mom who transitioned her child when they were two years old and made them a social media star.

5. Trans men and women who have been charged with a crime belong in LGBT prison wings. Because we have created a culture where male rapists can put on its dress and be rewarded with a permanent stay in the hen house where they can victimize more women and the system will just cry transphobia and call the victims liars. You got a problem with that? I have never seen a trans man pushing to get put in men’s prison. I wonder why… 😐

6. Blair White is queen.

7. I will fight Henry Cavill on sight. I don’t give a shit how bad you want motorboat him. He’s a fucking pedophile.

8. Same goes for David Bowie. When I get to the afterlife I’m gonna make him wish he could die again. Ask me if you want my full on sight list. 😂

9. I stand with Palestine. Yes I think Islam is a horrible religion that is anti woman. I still don’t think kids should die for the grievances of adults and I think it’s fucked up Israel is doing the same shit Nazis did to them and expect us to nod and smile!

10. Qu**r is just as much of a slur as f*g*t or n*gg*r. I don’t use it and if you do I will block you no questions asked. Say gay! Say lesbian! Say…bisexual! 😱

11. Butch women are valid as fuck and I adore y’all . They aren’t trans men, fuck your lesbian phobia.

12. To build off 11, the new LGBT movement has been infected by woke homophobia and the new trans movement is nothing but conversion therapy in a mask.

13 . Radical feminists are women’s last hope.

14. Marvel movies always sucked, we were just kids and ate up the pretty colors.

15. Dune is a white male savior story.

16. Your fave is not autistic, trans, gay or whatever. You just need validation cause you have no confidence.

17. The Boys should have never cast Jensen Ackles and the Supernatural fandom needs psychological help.

18. Too many of y’all try to primp and posture as the gods of your fandom and yes I say that as someone who did the same and stepped away when I realized how cringe I was. Lording over autistic adults and actual children is pathetic. Get therapy and a real hobby.

19. While gender neutral fanfiction has its place. The trend that all fanfiction needs to be gender neutral is literally killing the creativity and frankly the spice to fanfiction. I hate this trend where piece of media needs to be sterilized so it can be consumed by anyone, even people just passing by. It goes against the concept of creating at its core. Sometimes things are made for specific groups. Sometimes it’s made just for you. The things you create do not need to be sanitized to the point there’s no substance, just a hollow consumption. Think of it this way. Would you rather have a hot pizza of your preference or would you prefer to just drink a bowl of water because someone on the other side of the world might not like pizza?

20. The WWE Divas belt was iconic. I get the whole take women wrestlers seriously movement and I agree! But god damn it, it’s a Bratz belt!!! Gimme!!!!!

21. I fucking HATE koalas. They literally only exist because humans have dumped millions of dollars and keeping them alive. If natural selection were allowed to take his course, they would’ve died off 100 years ago. The food they consume has so little nutrition that they have evolved to have the smallest brain to cranium capacity of any animal to create a built in helmet!! Why? Cause they are so stupid they literally fall out of trees and drop their infants!!! They shit on their young and have permanent diarrhea due to the 0 nutrition thing. They carry chlamydia. They’re so fucking stupid they can’t fuck and have to be artificially inseminated to continue the population. If I couldn’t get laid on my own, the government would not drop millions of dollars into making sure I do!! So why did koalas get it? Literally a waste of resources that could be going to feed thousands of hungry children and instead we’re keeping a fucking retarded (I’m on the spectrum fuck you) animal alive who should have gone extinct hundreds of years ago cause it’s supposedly ‘cute’!! God! I hate koalas!

#get to know me #unpopular opinion

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daydreamerwonderkid · 10 months

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You have to understand, my taste in fictional male characters is based on a sliding scale from "Dumbest of Ass" to "King of All Pathetic Cringe Fail Losers."

And when it comes to female characters, I'm always landing somewhere on the "Bastard Loser Trash Queen" to "Could Kill Me and Probably Will Kill Me" spectrum.

Is it really that much of a surprise then that I'm into Batfam? XD

#batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #i know myself #i dont know why I'm like this #but i am #and there's nothing i can do about it #dreamer queue

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exileorexodus · 5 months

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watched up to ep 4 hazbin hotel and i have some thoughts and some criticisms (of course) but i LOVE vox and velvette. so much like ohh my god. also they unironically seem like genuinely good friends which is such a win to me i love villain teams that actually like eachother

im so glad that they made vox more of a tired babysitter then some chewtoy woobie that gets crushed under val’s heels because that was the inferred interpretation back when the show was still being produced and ushfhjskdks i hated it ngl. but YES give him power give him a smooth withit salesman personality give him a dgaf attitude 👏 ALSO HES VOICED BY CHRISTIAN BORLE. THAT IS SUCH A DUB.

like idk i only like pathetic characters if they’re a certain way / executed well and the fanbase interpretation was really not up my alley 🥲

velvette is just a queen 🤷🏻 she cunty asf what else can i say- her voice and accent also reminds me of six the musical so added bonus

LOOK AT THEM. YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOO

wish i could publicly talk about hazbin hotel without silently being considered cringe or being viewed in a misconstrued and inaccurate way tho 🙇🏻

#shen’s_ishkabibble #WEEEE #hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin velvette

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never-oaky · 4 months

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About a year and a half ago I made a dnd character called Owen, he was a human druid and the more I started describing him to the rest of my party and DM the more familiar he sounded to me but i couldnt quite place him. I woke up in cold sweat 3 days after our session 0 with the realization that the reason Owen looked so familiar was because i accidentally made him look like season 8 Bdubs.

Today Owen died, rest in peace my sweet boy, at least you got to be the dancing queen before you died, and you put your shitty ass dad into prison.

I have now made a new character, and I have decided to fully embrace the cringe fail character, so i based my new boy, a half-elf wizard named Erion, on limited and secret life Etho. He is loyal, he is pathetic, he'll kill you if you go for his "roommates", he is a wet cat. I cannot wait to play him.

Lets hope that he lasts longer than Owen, and when he goes let it be sad and pathetic.

#dnd #dnd oc #dnd character #o7 #ethoslab #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #limited life #secret life #secret life etho #limited life etho #And yes there is a cleo #hermitcraft 8 #hermitcraft bdubs

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youareonlyastory · 2 years

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Asking for thoughts, Carlisle Cullen and sexting 😭 is it too much for him? What does he do when Esme starts sending him hot messages 🙃

Oh and what thoughts these are 😍.

Okay Lovely, I’m about to utterly shatter your world… because Carlisle Cullen and sexting? Lame. Gorgeously, pathetically, ashamedly lame.

His sexts to his Goddess are nothing other than sickly sweet.

‘I am thinking of you.’

‘Time without you is time lost of worth.’

‘Do you remember where I left my belt?’

He also tries the typical;

‘Your upper torso plays upon my thoughts today and though I would give upon bended knee my last word to brush upon … I yet find myself scheduled for another valve replacement surgery.’

The problem with such attempts is that by the time he receives a nude in response, he is still in his office, unmoving, thinking of the correct way to respond in order to best capture his appreciation.

In short, his wife thinks he leaves her on read.

A lot.

Really, he’s trying to back space the cringe until he is only left with; ‘there are not words…’

For a man of prayer, that is all he has.

Now he may be a patient man, but no single person on Earth is more patient than a Queen sending a nude, returning and finding that after four hours, her husband is still online, message read, not a word typed.

He is lame.

Lame.

Lame and Cringe and Pathetic.

He cannot text.

But write, he can.

So when he has the time, and the clearest of minds usually with toffee curls spread on his chest (after some yummy, yummy pokey-dokie hot steamy session), he will take a fountain pen, lift up the thigh farthest from his sweet, insatiable beautiful Wife, and he will write to her in the most intangible cursive known to man.

And if he’s cheeky enough, he’ll nestle his note deep into her cleavage and cuddle her tightly.

TL:DR; he probably wanks Vampire spunk into his vampire slacks and dreams thoughtfully of his beautiful, stunning Wife without texting her back.

#but what do *you* think??#pls gimme all the responses #twilight #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #carlisle x esme #@stregoni-benefici #asks #sexyaf #lets be fair #those two stud muffins are some absolutely leopards in the bedroom #and out the bedroom #and in them again #and bedroom here meaning her inner bedroom #😈#this got nswf reeeeal quick #what an absolute boss ask #THANK YOU LOVELY

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rollforfelicity · 11 months

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What's a favorite NPC you've made up? I'll go first with some of my favorites.

In Good Society, I played Mortimer Farthingbottom, a sad middle triplet and horticulturist who somehow ended up both hot AND pathetic (and not pathetic in a hot way, just pathetic in a pathetic way)?? If I ever do merch, it will 100 percent be something with him saying "I was distracted by a comely root," which is one of my favorite things I've ever said on stream.

In Monsterhearts, I semi-recently introduced an NPC named Orion, who I can't say one of my FAVORITE things about because the players don't know it yet and they might read it, but he's homeschooled and cringe and too honest. Is he inadvertently inspired by my sneaking suspicion that I'm autistic??????? Is he honest in social situations in a way I wish I could be????????? I'll never tell.

In D&D, I VERY recently introduced an NPC who helped one of the PCs escape from prison in exchange for a favor, and immediately called in the favor by getting into the fanciest party in the Capital and trying to sell his new invention: the tuxedo tee shirt. He's a total piece of shit elf with a perfectly coiffed mullet and his name is Jasper Delmont. He's in law school and he thinks if he signs V.C. on a contract it's not legally binding. The players are supposed to be figuring out who at this fancy party is a lich but instead they've decided to "discredit and destroy Jasper as a person." He's the kind of idiot who makes you look foolish for arguing with him. He's wearing assless chaps in front of the King and Queen.

#ttrpg #dungeon masters #game masters #NPCs

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bentosandbox · 1 year

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1 to 7 👀

take a guess before opening this (it's kind of long)

so actually when I rb'd the post I was thinking about Hoshichen tehe was it obvious (I don't actually hate it... I like it even..but I'm very particular about their dynamic) but I kind of have 3 other ships I basically feel same-y about

Specrene

FranLisk

SariaSilence

Their standard(??)/popular depictions basically have 'Webtoon CEO with yaoi hands harassing/forcing themselves on naive powerless guy' kind of vibes to me (This applies to a lot of Lapptex too I think) basically if you turn the 'bottom' into a kyaa noo stop type of girl with no agency...goodbye forever

What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?

See top but I guess more specifically Specrene: specter is treating her like a actual pet bird to torment/tease than a fellow humanoid(?) until the end of her op rec where she finally kind of acknowledges irene as a fellow 'human' like whaa

2. Are there any popular fandom OTPs you only BroTP?

Hoshichen but they're also like more than that to me im just going to quote my friend here and hope it suffices

uhh like. they know that they'll never get the other's full background and theyre (may be begrudgingly) fine with that (as opposed to chenswire thats like mutually 'i already know everything about you why are you still pretending otherwise' in all actions but speech)

3. Have you ever unfollowed someone over a fandom opinion?

man idk honestly lol... but i also rarely unfollow people over this kind of stuff usually I just mute words or just go hm interesting i guess (scroll past)

4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

see top I think they're all popular/the 'default' ship (except for specrene)

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

see top (and below...) chen sir is cringefail but not like a hollywood damsel please....

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

I wouldn't say hate but I used to be really ehhh on

1) Mos/Fia because (see top) but I love fail mostima and cringe fia I'm glad GA showed how pathetic the two of them can be

2) I kept seeing Lin/Swire with (see top) dynamic and i was like goddamn you guys did it to hoshichen and now them too COME ON.. JUST BECAUSE SWIRE APOLOGISED ONCE EVEN THOUGH SHE WAS BACK TO BEING QUEEN BITCH RIGHT AFTER uhh anyway. there was this weibo post I saw when Lin was announced that like awoke something in me it was kind of like a drabble or something...? basically something like 'lungmen quad is so nice because you have 2 police(chen & swire) and 2 underworld people(lin & hoshi <ex tho) so the dynamics is like wowww!! honestly it was kinda hard to read lol but it was basically like canon compliant imagining about after swires kidnapping when they were kids, they fractured fr fr because chen was like im going to 1000% train while lin feels awkward since swire got kidnapped by underworld guys or sth and her family and therefore she herself is part of the problem and it ended with the both of them butting heads while thinking "why wasnt it me that saved her back then?" (cause it was hoshi right lol) and i just went like MANNNNN. it's like the core of my wuxia/gufeng AU that's collecting dust in my folder sorry if that made no sense

3) hoshichen but see below first and then come back; JP fan interpretations just hit different man the biggest reason why i still eat this ship sometimes

7. Is there anything you used to like but can’t stand now?

see top but especially for HoshiChen because i don't really care for the other 3 ships lol. people depicting Hoshigummy like average yaoi mafia boss that forces themselves on the MC without an ounce of respect for either party when shes like actually perfect(to me...)

omake/bonus chart i made a while back before WWB dropped