#this hurts me to write bc it is so personal

[whoreforwonwoo]

Onggg but imagine hard dom!scoups or hard dom!wonwoo like what would they be interested in? But one thing ik for sure is that they're both interested in spanking, edging and overstimulation and at tye end of the night? You're crying with tears falling down your face and pussy battered,,

I was wondering if you'd be want to write what type of hard!dom they were? Would they be interested in bdsm? Bc as far as ik its always the quiet kids and c'mon scoups?? Oh he's just scoups

Omg. I think both wonu and coups would be interested in the same thing but a little different.

Hard dom!Wonwoo

• Spanking: it's a must. There wont be any punishment without spanking. Don't underestimate him though. Even if his hands are thin and not as big. He is skilled. He knows how to make it hurt. His hands won't stop beating your ass until it's sore and red. And ofc he WILL definitely use other tools like the paddle and the whip. He won't stop even if your crying and begging. Even when you're at your limit and close to passing out from the intense pain. He won't care. He needs to drive the lesson into your head. And he'll do anything to do it.

• BDSM: OK but I don't think he is the person to be into bdsm to much. But. If he needs to be rough with you in a particular way. He will use blind folds and handcuffs ofc.

• Overstimulation: OK. But I know that Wonwoo would definitely be interested in this. Like how can he not. He can over stimulate you almost everyday. But let's talk about those nights when he's a little too worked up. He'll tie your legs to the bed and Overstimulate you with a vibrator to the clit and his finger. He won't stop until you're sobbing and your legs are shaking badly. If you move too much. He would slap your pussy or pinch your clit hard. By the end of the night, your pussy is swollen and beaten up. But he'd still fuck you for the next 2 hours on his dick. So yeah...good luck to you.

• Breath play: something this man is totally good at. He would be pounding into you from behind and would just snake his hand up to your throat and squeeze it tightly. He would make you hold your breath for so long. Until you're struggling and and almost at the verge of passing out. He would slowly release your neck and let you cough and choke as you cry out when he starts to pick up his pace again.

Hard dom!Scoups.

• Spanking: this man isn't gonna let you go without spanking. His hands and fingers are big and thick. Don't think he'll go easy on you. He's serious. If you're already across his lap. That means you're in for a long beating. He won't stop until you're sobbing and begging.

• Bdsm: this man is all about bdsm. He wouldn't use tools on you. Nor would he use handcuffs and blind folds. But. He definitely has a good body to use on you. Soooo. I think he would be into fisting. Like mannnnn. He would just fist you one day out of frustration. And no begging and pleading is gonna stop him from pounding his fist inside you. Your pussy forcefully opened by him. It's painful yet so delicious.

• Deep throat: Something I think everyone knows Scoups would be into. I can just imagine him fucking your throat deeply and warning you to not use your teeth. But no matter how hard you tried. Your teeth only touched his dick inside you, and he's gonna make a REALLY BIG DEAL out of it. Trust me. He would slap you across the face hard and squeeze your cheeks together. "Wtf did I tell you. Huh?" He would ask before giving you another firm slap. Another thing is that he's BIG AF. He won't care if you choke on his dick tho. Your his cocksleeve. So he'll use you like one.

• Overstimulation: Even if he isn't into edging that much. He is into overstimulation. He would use his tongue on you for hours. Making you cum almost 4 times. After that he'll fuck you in all the positions possible. Trust me. At the end of the day. You've came so much you couldn't even cum anymore. But he won't care. He would spread your legs again, ignoring your pleas and cries for him to stop. He would force orgasm after orgasm after you until you've passed out.

Damnnn....I think I might make a oneshot out of this heheh.

[magpod-confessions]

i am getting so tired of the Jon-asexuality discourse like just LET PEOPLE LIVE

LET PEOPLE DO WHAT THEY WANT

I’m ace, i get off, i make sex jokes, I don’t want to have sec with an actual human being, but I’ll read slash fics, I get horny for fictional men, I joke that I want to fuck them, I don’t, but I might be a smutfic of these characters when I feel like it, none of this makes me any less asexual.

saying all ace people are virgins and have never and will never have sex and have no libido and are “uwu liddle babees” who are oblivious is just factually incorrect.

some ace people don’t have sex.

some do.

Jon’s asexuality is left vague for a REASON.

we hear about through gossip, from someone who 1) hates Jon 2) heard it from his EX. That’s not the most reliable source. I hate to break it to you, but it’s not. It’s second hand information that is, AGAIN, left vague. So that the viewer may interpret it however they like.

someone interpreting Jon as sex-favorable is fine. It’s a headcanon. We don’t ACTUALLY know bc there’s no sex scene or lack of sex scene. Because it doesn’t matter whether or not he has sex! It adds nothing to the overall story, but if you want to write smut with Jon, that’s fine!

Stop getting so uncomfortable, it’s a fictional character and these fics are hurting no one. Stop “calling people out” just because they’re writing something you don’t like. It’s like saying someone who writes detective novels is a cop or condones murder.

and most of the fics I’ve seen are by ace people who are projecting their own sexuality onto Jon, maybe even figuring out their asexuality through him. I realized a lot of my asexuality by reading some of these fics!

hell, even if you don’t like Jon having sex or feeling attraction to people, there’s fics where he ISNT attracted but will still have sex bc guess what! Even allo people have sex with people they aren’t attracted to! Bc they want to! Bc some people like having sex with others!

no ond is trying to erase Jon’s asexuality. You’re just mad because not everyone has the same headcanon as you. And guess what? You can block tags, block creators, you can block people on ao3, you can filter out smut on ao3, all of this is easily avoidable if you just curate your own expirience.

people are gonna write smut of any and every ace character. It’s not inherently acephobic to do so. Especially not when someone who is acespec is just projecting onto a fictional character who’s sexuality was left vague for that reason.

if you disagree, fine. You can always just look the other way.

🗣️

God. Agree these are my exact opinions on it LMAO. Idgaf how someone portrays jons asexuality and frankly the whole 'HES ACE HE HASNT HEARD OF SEX EVER' is just. Uncomfortable and aphobic to me as an ace person LMAO - rosette

YEAH . agreed ! as an ace person as well it isss . a spectrum guys . somebody making the canon ace character have sex isn't going to kill you . i can obviously understand if you're uncomfortable with it due to being ace yourself but non-ace people shouldn't be trying to dictate how other people headcanon a characters asexuality to be . - deceit

[firenati0n]

several sentence sunday <3 :)

hello my friends <3 thank you to @thinkof-england @littlemisskittentoes @porcelainmortal @magicandarchery @msmarvelouswinchester @getmehighonmagic @piratefalls @itsmaybitheway @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @nocoastposts @theprinceandagcd @dragonflylady77 @onthewaytosomewhere @duchessdepolignaca03 @priincebutt @captainjunglegym for the tags :) :) early birds dangggg!!

here's a snip from my au of the bear but it's a character study on alex (spoke about it a bit during a wip game here). this is chef alex aka carmy!alex:

Alex dices and slices and chops and juliennes, the top edge of the knife digging into his index finger and leaving a deep pink indent—physical proof of his hard work. Something tangible to hold on to, as real as the vegetables neatly stacked in front of him, as true as the erratic pulse he can feel in his fingertips. He leans into the sharp pain, his wrist aching and finger throbbing from the speed. His back is curled into himself, crowding his body over the kitchen counter, errant curls falling into his eyes as his knife moves at lighting speed, struggling to keep up with his racing thoughts. "You gotta come home, Alex." Alex's knife picks up at a punishing pace.  “Mom needs you. I need you.” Everybody wants something. He's not sure how much he has left to give, to slice off of his heart and serve up. Ugly presentation.

xoxo roop

+ no pressure tags under the cut and open tag as always <3 please tag me if you use, i want to see :)

@ninzied @cha-melodius @sparklepocalypse @cricketnationrise @orchidscript @myheartalivewrites @welcometololaland @anincompletelist @tintagel-or-cockleshells @sherryvalli @lizzie-bennetdarcy @heysweetheart-writes @inexplicablymine @onward--upward @celeritas2997 @14carrotghoul @cultofsappho @anchoredarchangel @candyspandemonium @nontoxic-writes @junebugclaremontdiaz @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @bigassbowlingballhead @alasse9 @ships-to-sail @kiwiana-writes @wordsofhoneydew @indestructibleheart @tailsbeth-writes @suseagull04 @rmd-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @eusuntgratie @adreamareads

[agentark]

whatever you do, don't imagine a young J Corvin waiting every day at the end of their drive, hoping today is the day the mail carrier finally brings a letter from their very best friend

[sollucets]

wrote a whole long post that didn't make sense because i'm a fic writer not a meta writer and the point comes down to this: sand and ray are both Such Bad Liars

they have honest faces. nobody, in-universe or in the audience, is ever really fooled when they pretend things are other than they are.

when sand is hurt you can tell, it's in every line of his body. ray is expressive and straightforward but hides his hurt a little better, not because he's better at lying but because the hurt hardly ever goes away.

ray can see sand freezing up and looking upset when he's called a friend or not prioritized, he can see the lie, but it doesn't matter compared to what sand's actually saying and what it'll mean if it's (not) true. he's gotten a lesson recently about pushing. and sand, i think, can see ray caring but he can't imagine it could be enough, that he could matter the most or be a priority. when ray calls sand a whore it's the only lie he told that night and sand knows it

when they hurt each other sand lies and pulls away and ray can tell, and similarly ray lies and pulls away and sand can tell, and theyre stuck in limbo because of it. awful. hate it. 10000 more just like it please

[sluckythewizard]

BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

[nullians]

It’s actually insane how fandom in general has become so scared of making weird and dark and ugly works. Like I look at myself and see how I have also subconsciously adapted this instinct to self censor and make things “marketable” and it’s making me want to crawl out of my skin. I need to get weirder and worse and more off-putting hello

[dansconcepts]

Diner AU - “86 'em!” Pt. 1

I make SO many mistakes at work, it's kinda insane. Because of that energy, I thought it'd be fun (and therapeutic) to delve into some of our wonderful protag!servers' learning journeys and working through bad experiences because we're all human (unless you're not, which is a-okay too @/Kiibo @/AlterEgo). This also became more angsty than I intended (particularly with Shuichi omg). This idea was inspired by @kelperings' doodles for this AU in this post (specifically Hajime walking away because of pickles hAHA). Check it out! She's an icon!

Starting off with an anxious Shuichi having difficulty with making eye contact with customers.

Okay, there's a person at Table 12 ordered the burger and he has to get them fries after, the family at 13 wanted another straw, he has the water for 5, 9's been waiting too long, haven't they? He needs to get their orders soon. 15 wanted the check... Wait, did another person just come in? He has to get to them after too. He's going to need 1, 2- “SHUICHI! Bro, how’s it going?”  -3 menus, he has to get them some water as well. What did the family need again? No, wait, deal with the water first... but he needs to say hi to Kaito, he doesn't want to be rude! “Sorry Kaito!” He quickly blurts out, and it sounds out of breath even to his own ears. “I'm doing great, just got some tables to finish up! Lunch rush, you know?” The detective gnaws at his lip. Straw done, get the cheque, drop off this water... “Oh, my bad bud. I'll be right over here!” Ah, there's someone about to leave, just gotta walk past them, don't make eye contact, you already have too many things to think about right now... the server drifts his gaze downward. Okay, everything's fin- SPLASH! He jolts upward, his gaze meeting widened plum eyes and the noticeable wet spot on his white shirt. “Oh god! Kaito, I'm so sorry!” This is all his fault, if only he looked up more. ” “Hey, it's all good man! I shouldn't have been standing here, it's totally my bad...” At the corner of his eye, he sees the bright apron of his coworker approaching. “Hey, is everything okay?” Komaru asks. He nods. Distantly, she can hear him asking Kaito if he needs some tissues, but he's too focused on the ground and the litany of all your fault, look what you did Shuichi, you can't get anything right. “Shuichi.” A soft voice cuts through. “Hey, it's basically time for your break anyway. Go and take it! I got your tables covered, just be a little more careful, okay?” Komaru says it kindly, but it still hits him like a bullet. He wishes that he had his hat with him. “Of course. I'm really sorry, it won't happen again.” Komaru's white shoes leave his peripherals, meaning she must have walked away. The ends of Kaito's long purple coat remain, though. He feels the familiar slap against his shoulders. “C'mon Shuichi, let's go outside. We can talk there if you want, yeah? It's really all good.” He's been through this before. He needs to step out. Just follow Kaito. He wills his feet to move next to the other's. Feeling the fresh air against his face, no one else in sight, his breath returns to his lungs. He lets himself stay there. In and out. The sky is cloudy today. In and out. The fog in his mind feels less hazy now. In and out. I made a mistake. I feel terrible about it. It impacted people I cared about, which makes everything so much wor-. In and out. Just stick with the facts, Shuichi. I made the mistake because I tried to avoid eye contact, which I still struggle with. In and out. I have improved, but it was what I relied on for a long time, so it's understandable I can get back into that habit. It doesn't mean I've failed myself. It doesn't mean it'll keep happening. You're working through it, you know that. You're okay. I'm okay. No, that's not right. I will be okay. He's certainly feeling a little better, at least. He turns back around the corner, seeing a cross-armed Kaito perched against the wall. Upon his entrance, the astronaut straightens, looking at him expectantly. “Hey Kaito, sorry for giving you such an unpleasant dining experience...” “Are you kidding?! When I said I'm here to support you bro, I meant that in every way.” The corners of Shuichi's mouth lift. “How're you feeling?” “Feeling better. Thanks for being here, Kaito.” He's nestled into a side hug. “Anything for my sidekick!” “Hey, for your meal, it's on the house, okay?” “You don't have to do that!... But I ain't gonna object.”

And a sleep-deprived Shuichi.

Another busy day. Another glass to fill. Caffeine rushes through his veins as he lazily pours the pitcher. When did he last go to sleep? When was Komaeda's rope case? Was that yesterday or two days ago? Genuinely, it's concerning how nonchalant the man was about an attempted kidnapping... At least he helped him figure it out. Hopefully that provides him some peace of mind. “Hey!” Someone yelps. Well, that certainly woke him up. He darts upward to see the furrowed brows on the male customer's face. Did he pour water on him? He checks him, but he's fine. Instead, there's a small puddle formed underneath the glass. “Oh sorry sir, I didn't mean to overfill it-” “Where the hell's your manager!? I'd like to talk to them.” Luckily (or unluckily), Makoto is already within earshot and comes over. Immediately, the man is angrily discussing the origins of the spilled water, and Makoto sends him off to fetch another glass. As he walks away, he hears him quickly following behind. “Hey. While it definitely isn't great, I get mistakes happen. You're going to be more focused though, right?” “Yeah, sorry about that...”

Also:

“Oh Shuichi...” Kaede frowns, gazing at her friend's sleeping form on one of the booths. His position doesn't even look comfortable, but she knows the booths are comfy enough. And he looked so tired earlier... “It’s okay, let him rest.” Makoto chimes over her shoulder. “We're nearly closing anyway.”

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

And here's a highly stressed Hajime giving the wrong dish(es) to the wrong table(s).

He places the plate in front of Komaeda, already ready to rush over to the next person because that one asshole is glaring at him for not getting his damn soda, like damn, it hasn't even been that long! “Hajime.” Does he have time for this? “What.” He hisses out, perhaps a little more tersely than he should, but it's Nagito. He's definitely heard him act worse. “Why is there-” The guy shudders, “rice?” Rice? Why the hell would there be rice, he knows he hates that shi- His eyes meet the plate. Fuck, he got the wrong one. He turns, and sure enough, the lady who ordered the fried rice meets his gaze with a confused tilt of her head. She eyes the dish in front of Nagito longingly. “Wrong table, huh? It's okay Hajime, it's really expected of a Res- Hajime? Hajime, why are you already walking away?” Yeah, he's not in the mood for the reminder. The last thing he wants to think about is his exams. Fuck, they're going to be the death of him. He unceremoniously plops Nagito's correct plate in front of him after returning the fried rice and even getting that other guy's soda, just for good measure. “Here you go. Enjoy.” He scowls. The other opens his mouth, but he's already walked away. He darts toward whoever he's supposed to pretend to be civil in front of next, and blond hair enters his vision, a silver-haired girl across from him. Is that who he thinks it is? When he approaches them, Fuyuhiko greets him while Peko nods her head in acknowledgment. Wow. “Hey guys.” He allows a smile to peek through. “Hey. Saw what happened over there with Komaeda.” The blond starts. Ah. Is he seriously about to get a lecture right now? “Yo, no judgment man, can't say I don't get it. Especially since Natsumi told me you guys have exams coming up?” He feels his mood further tank at the reminder. “I'm fine.” He huffs, pursing his lips. Where is he going with this? “Look, I don't want to overstep, or whatever, but like... I know you don't mean your attitude right now, but I don't think that guy knows. He kind of looks like a kicked puppy from here, honestly. And also, you're working. It's unprofessional.” Who cares? He would voice the thought, but, “It is understandable to be angry, Hinata.” Peko says. “Give yourself this moment to collect yourself.” And he listens. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he nods. He does feel a little better. “Thank you, both of you.” They smile at him before telling him their dishes. After he drops off their order with Rantaro (and he's thankful he's got no other tables to attend to at the moment), he sits himself into Nagito's booth where his eggs sat untouched. Grey eyes glance up at him. “Hajime. I genuinely didn't mean to upset you, but of course I manage to.” He sighs, gritting his teeth. “It wasn't personal, Nagito. I shouldn't have acted that way towards you. I'm just... ugh... I've got some shit on my mind. Exams. Way too much fucking homework. Other stuff.” He braces for the Exams? Seriously? That's what you're acting up over? How pathetic! But of course you're going to be struggling over something so basic. “Oh.” The guy says instead. “Really? I'll try not to be a burden anymore than I have been.” “You-?” don't care? Aren't going to mock me for it? “Your reasoning isn't special, Hajime.” There it is. “It's entirely normal, you know. I know how people act regarding it, and I know how you act. After all, I've been on the receiving end.” Hajime cringes. Their earlier interactions were NOT the best. “So I can't help but feel a little relieved.” Yeah, that's not addressing the actual issue.  “I won't treat you like that again, you know. I-” He ignores the way his cheeks warm. “-respect you. I know other people here don't deserve it either, even if some are assholes.” Like that one guy who said took you look enough because seriously, fuck that guy. “I won't lash you out at you if you don't deserve it.” He pauses. “Until you start acting like a smug asshole again.” Nagito looks down, but he has a smile on his face.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

With Komaru learning there's an etiquette to follow that isn't always told.

Everything's going pretty well! Just another hour and she'll be back at home in her comfy, comfy bed. All she's gotta do is finish up these last remaining tables. She grabs the glass and starts pouring water from the pitcher in her hands. Alright, that's done, onto the next one. “Um, hello?” Their voice, suddenly gaining an edge, cuts in. “Can I have another glass?” She tilts her head. Another glass? “But I just refilled it?” “Yeah, but you touched where I drink. Did you even wash your hands?” Huh? Well, she definitely washes her hands, that's literally a part of her job description. All she did was just grab the glass... what's wrong with that? “I’m sorry?” The server says, both confused and slightly irritated. What is happening? She didn't do anything weird! She does this at home all the time! The customer scoffs. “You should be!” “I-! Well!”. She frowns, but tries to remain upbeat. “I apologize! Let me get you a new glass!” “Could someone who's actually competent get it? Honestly...” Her eye twitches. Seriously? Regardless, she bows her head. “Please excuse me then. And sorry again!” While she's not necessarily running, she does make a beeline to the back. She finds her brother the moment she gets there, currently placing orders on the counter for Rantaro. “Makoto, Makoto, Makoto,” The newer server groans, slumping against the wall like it's free real estate. “I'm so done! What is she even talking about??? Is there something I'm not getting? What did I do wrong?” “Whoa, slow down Komaru. What happened?” “All I did was grab the glass. How else am I supposed to pour the water without spilling it? Should I not be touching the glass at all? I'm a little too clumsy for that...” “How did you grab the glass?” She blinks. How? That's a weird question. At her questioning look, her brother brings a cup and places it in front of her. She mimes holding a pitcher in her other hand as she grabs the cup from near the top, like she usually does. “Ah, that explains it.” Huh? Makoto sighs. “It's a little obvious. It's a hygienic thing for some people. Don't touch where someone would put their lips on the cup. It's safer to just touch the lower half.” “Oh. I didn't know about that...” How was she supposed to know about it though? It's not in anything she's ever read before. Training never brought it up either. It sounds pretty understandable put together like that, even if she personally wouldn't pay it any concern. Komaru huffs. It's not worth thinking too much about it. “Speaking of that, could you go to Table 3 and get her some water? She doesn't want me doing it anymore after that...” The younger Naegi sheepishly grins. “I promise I won't do it again!” “I'll do it if you take 9.” Hazel eyes narrow. “What's wrong with 9?” “Please just do it.” She shrugs. She knows he wouldn't ask if the customers were really weird, so it can't possibly be that bad. “Alrighty, big bro. But you owe me a new manga!” “I'm already doing you a favour!” He yells back, but it's drowned out by her laugh.

[scionshtola]

from the touch prompts: 12. on a scar; or 18. because you are dying :>

ty azia!! this one really sent me on a spiral this week adkfd

the pain of perception

pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul word count: 1292 | read on ao3 notes: i went with 18. because you are dying. 5.0 spoilers!

Y’shtola has always found Corisande difficult to look away from, some inexorable pull between them perpetually drawing her gaze. She turned toward them as a blossom sought the sun, unfurling in their light and basking in the warmth of it. Even when Y’shtola lost her sight and the world lost its color, Corisande’s familiar aether was more than enough to draw her in, their countenance so dear to her that it hardly took any effort at all to pick out their features.

In the grand entrance hall of Emet-Selch’s recreated Capitol building, the light Corisande emanates is not the kind Y’shtola wants to bask in. They are a beacon of aether, so bright they blur the forms of the other Scions gathered around them. So bright the light lingers even when she closes her eyes, a ghostly blur haunting the back of her eyelids.

She watches them as they take their leave of the others and turn toward her, seeking her out as surely as she sought them. They cross the hall, the soft click of their boots growing louder as they approach. 

“The others are nearly ready. Ryne only wants to charge a few more cartridges for Thancred before we start on our way,” Corisande says, gesturing at the others over her shoulder, gathered by the door that leads deeper into the building. She lifts her hand, starting to reach for Y’shtola, but stops herself halfway, arm falling stiffly to her side. ‘Tis difficult to make out, but Y’shtola thinks she might be clenching her fist. “I came to see how you fared.” 

Y’shtola holds back a sigh, her jaw clenched against the sharp pain in her chest at the aborted gesture. In the three years she’d spent without them on the First, she had so missed the easy physical affection between them. A reassuring squeeze of her wrist, a gentle hand on the small of her back, a soft brush of their thumb across her cheek. Touches she had at times wished Corisande would not make, if only to spare Y’shtola the misery of her endlessly growing feelings. 

But she’d been wrong to think it would spare her any pain. Since their reunion—that near disastrous moment when Y’shtola had mistaken them for a sin eater—Corisande has, for the most part, kept a careful physical distance between them. Every deliberate step back, every halted reach for her hand, left her far more hurt and confused than any touch that had ever led her to hope for more. 

That they keep their distance even now, when losing themself to the light is becoming less a potential threat and more a rapidly approaching reality with every passing moment, is more than she can bear. She reaches for their hand in their stead, pressing their cool palm to hers. “l have no preparations to make. I will be ready when you are.”

Corisande tips their chin, head tilting down in the direction of their joined hands. Y’shtola holds fast, hope swooping through her stomach, her breath caught in her chest as she waits. But rather than pull away, they squeeze her hand, and the ache in Y’shtola’s chest is eased as she finally exhales. 

Corisande lifts her head in Y’shtola’s direction, her familiar features—the heart shape of her lips, the curve of her nose, her downturned eyes—just as obfuscated by the light as the rest of her body. There was a time that Y’shtola could have known what Corisande was thinking just by a simple shared glance. Now, though she could make her best guess, she could never be sure what was written in their expression. What Y’shtola might give to see the curve of Corisande’s gentle smile once more, before they venture toward a battle that could change her forever. 

Y’shtola glances down at their hands, still pressed palm to palm between them. Corisande had not shied from one touch—perhaps she would not shy from another. 

Do as your heart decrees, Y’shtola had told them, only moments ago. Without hesitation or regret. 

Y’shtola raises her free hand to Corisande’s cheek, heartbeat a loud, steady rhythm as she moves. They lean down ever so slightly to meet her, their hair falling over her arm, the ends of it brushing lightly against her sleeve. She stills when their fingers wrap gently around her wrist, thinking they mean to tug her hand away, but they simply hold on.

“Is it difficult? To look at me? To—” Corisande’s grip on her wrist tightens. Their voice is soft, almost fragile to Y’shtola’s ears. “I know the toll a surfeit of aether takes on you. It must be exhausting just to have me near.”

“‘Tis not easy,” Y’shtola admits, though it pains her to say it. Corisande knows the truth already—the abundance of their aether is difficult for Y’shtola to process with her aether-fueled sight—and Y’shtola would not lie to her besides. 

Worse than the harsh glare of their aether, though, is the damage the light has wrought on their soul, battered and bruised as it struggles to contain the light. For all the distance that Corisande has kept between them these past few weeks, they could not hide the depth of the wound from Y’shtola. While she knew Corisande would prefer it, Y’shtola saw no kindness in pretending otherwise—she would not turn from them when they were in pain, no matter how much it hurt to see. 

Y’shtola sweeps her thumb across the swell of Corisande’s cheek, and hopes she’s looking her in the eye when she speaks again. “But I would no sooner look away than I would leave you to face what lies ahead alone.”

Corisande’s smile blooms under Y’shtola’s palm—cheek curving upward, the quirk in the corner of their lips where they’ve turned into her touch, the crinkle of skin around their eyes—and she answers with a warm smile of her own. Corisande sweeps a finger across the inside of her wrist, and after weeks—years—of so little contact between them, the deliberate touch feels monumental, as much a relief to the longing inside her as it is a catalyst for a desperate desire for more. 

“Shtola,” they say, the newly restored warmth in their voice reigniting that flame of hope in her. The one that made her long for Corisande’s soft touches, that made her think Corisande has always felt about her the way she feels about them, the one that never quite went out. “I—”

They cut off with a soft whimper of pain, lurching forward with a grimace. Their grip clamps down sharply where they hold Y’shtola, fingers digging into her wrist and the back of her hand, and she feels the hold as if it were a vice around her heart, pressed under the weight of their pain. The light inside them surges, brightening and straining against their soul as Corisande struggles to stay on their feet, and then it fades.

“Are you all right?” Y’shtola asks, keeping her tone neutral though she feels anything but, unable to even blink away the image of the surging light. Corisande straightens, her expression smoothing beneath Y’shtola’s hand. 

“Well enough,” she answers between breaths, her voice thin. She squeezes Y’shtola’s wrist, then gently tugs her hand away from her face, though she does not completely release her. “Perhaps we had better be on our way.”

“Of course.” Y’shtola expects Corisande to drop her hands, but they hold on to one as they pivot, placing themself at her side. 

The door that will lead them to Emet-Selch looms before them, the others still gathered in front of it. Whatever they face beyond it, whatever Corisande’s heart decrees, Y’shtola would not turn her gaze. They would face it together—perhaps not hand in hand, but side by side.

[sullina]

i think part of what makes so many people just flock to dungeon meshi as well is that it's also a story involving an autistic main character, who actually IS the main character

Because many stories will have an autistic character in them and then the story is more about how all the neurotypical people AROUND the autistic character deal with the characters autism, and the autistic character ends up as a side-character in a story that's supposed to be ABOUT them.

But in dungeon meshi, Laios especially is so much the main character! And i know he's not the only one, and not the only autistic character obv, and i know the story isn't about just him alone OR his autism...

But we get Laios' perspective. On just about everything. The story is, in the roughest terms, about the party venturing into the dungeon in order to save Falin, who got eaten by the red dragon. They're on a time constraint and have no money or equipment except what they literally have on their backs. That's the story.

Another author, a worse author, probably wouldn't have made Laios the party leader. A worse author would've relegated Laios to the "weird, awkward newbie who's excited about monsters but doesn't have the slightest clue or experience with them" who's job would've been to cite fun facts about whatever monster they encounter from some book he carries around, and the main interactions between him and the party would've been them yelling at him or calling him weird, to the point where you're wondering what this characters purpose even is in the story beyond comic relief.

And I'm so glad we didn't get this.

Instead of a story that emphasizes how "weird and unlikable" this weird character is, we get Laios being the partys leader, who, yes, is weird, but also competent and knowledgable and skilled and also is still a full character, with thoughts and feelings of his own, who actually speaks his mind and interacts with others on equal footing, who defends himself when he KNOWS he isn't in the wrong.

Laios and Shuros confrontation is both shocking, and also a huge breath of fresh air.

(Also, i know that "Shuro" isn't his real name but i can't remember his real name and I can't be bothered to look it up rn)

Shuro tells Laios to learn to read the room. A worse author would've had Laios apologize to Shuro for his own incompetence, but instead of meekly accepting that accusation, Laios throws it back in Shuros own face. That Shuro should've just been direct and honest with Laios when he KNEW that Laios wasn't getting it, instead of just playing along and letting that resentment fester.

And Laios is not only shouting it out, speaking his mind, and refusing to be treated as lesser than anyone else just because he can't "read the room", but he's also portrayed as RIGHT! Shuro would've have had to put up with Laios, whom he didn't like, but whom he let believe that they were friends, if he had just TOLD Laios he didn't like him DIRECTLY.

and look, i know that there's some hints or pages or whatever you wanna call them, that Shuro is also autistic, but comes with a different background, which basically just makes him and Laios incompatible in a certain sense.

But even with all that, Shuro still had no right to fault Laios for his shortcomings, when his own shortcomings played just as much of a role in their eventual confrontation. And the difference? Shuro KNEW how he himself AND Laios felt, but Laios only knew how he himself felt. Shuro was at an advantage in their situation, and he still faulted Laios and made him out to be this villain, who was purposely trying to make Shuro miserable, when Shuro himself NEVER opened his mouth to correct Laios!

And the thing is, Shuro isn't in the wrong for not liking Laios. Shuro is in the wrong for blowing up at Laios without EVER even giving him the chance to correct his behaviour!

And Laios KNOWS this, and he REFUSES to just apologize for something that wasn't even his fault! How could he possibly have known Shuro didn't like him, when Shuro never gave him any kind of indication of that fact?

And that's just it, isn't it?

Because I know I've experienced this kind of situation, even if exact memories don't come to mind, and I know other autistic or otherwise neurodivergent people have experienced this kind of thing. Of someone whom they were just having a normal conversation with or whom they considered a friend, just randomly blowing up at them for no conceivable reason. From our perspective, the other person just randomly decided they didn't like us anymore, didn't care about us anymore and wanted to be rid of us, or decided we were suddenly just evil, and they got mad at us, yelled at us, called us names, and then just left. And we're left confused and sad and, having no other information to go off of, because none was given to us, are bound to come to the conclusion that there's something wrong with us. We're just not likeable and any kindness from other people coming our way is just them being too polite to say anything until they've decided they had enough of us and abandon us. Because they never liked us. They were just too polite to say anything until they couldn't take us anymore.

[cream-and-tea]

[ID in alt]

pallas + giftgiving ❤️

[bunnihearted]

🏹

[ourhouseishaunted]

my brain for the past like 2 weeks

[giallos]

a truly terrible idea has latched hold of my gremlin brain which is, buck and tommy do break up so that buck can pursue eddie because either tommy thinks buck is in love with eddie or buck feels like he should be with eddie because everyone else keeps suggesting there's something more there BUT buck/eddie getting together changes their dynamic so much that neither of them are enjoying themselves (and they're worrying about losing what made their friendship so special because of all the changes to the dynamic) AND buck and tommy keep hooking up [air quotes] platonically (with tommy stumbling into inconvenient feelings and pining pathetically for buck while fucking him) while buck struggles to sort out intense feelings toward eddie (which obviously have to be romantic of course) vs. his calm, more settled feelings toward tommy (they're not as intense as his feelings about eddie so they can't possibly be romantic) blah blah long story slightly less long but buck realizes he's been in love with tommy the whole time and was having trouble separating strong but platonic feelings for eddie from his romantic feelings toward tommy and then tommy's like "newsflash asshole i've been in love with you the whole goddamn time"

i'll never write it because it's irredeemably stupid and i value my peace but it IS sitting in my hindbrain tormenting me right now

[faaun]

the forest looks like heaven today i woke up feeling the heaviest weight at the top of my heart

[infinitelystrangemachinex]

Come on, you know you want to, give us the character bingo for Viktor.

don't mind if i doooo