#I can't get TOO attached

[inkskinned]

you're in the habit of denying yourself things.

if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.

but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?

what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.

and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.

you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.

so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.

it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.

sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.

oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

they licensed his ass

my finished piece of the FWMS (official name definitely 100%) thing we started a few days ago! I had fun I hope folks had and/or continue to have fun with the sketch as well.

[thedykeparade]

I know for a lot of people the relationship between Elphaba and Fiyero feels rushed and underdeveloped, but, I don't know, I happen to like the fact that she had such a strong impact on his life in such a short amount of time... like, yes! of course she altered his brain chemistry and whole philosophy of life after a grand total of 3 encounters, she really is THAT girl (I just realized what I did there as soon as I finished typing it, I swear the pun was not intended).

I think they gravitated towards each other because they were exactly what the other needed in their lives.

In the beginning Fiyero was a person that felt comfortable reducing his entire existence and purpose to just being a "hot prince with a scandalacious reputation". But then he meets Elphaba, and she is different than anyone else he'd ever met in all those schools he went to, in more ways than one. She is Not Impressed by his looks or his title. She challenges him because she's able to look past his "nothing matters" bullshit and see that he's actually a really kind, caring person. She looks at him like she knows that he can do better, be better ("no matter how shallow and self-absorbed you pretend to be..."). She inspired him to become the best version of himself.

Fiyero needed that, someone to push him to take control of his life and act upon his wants and beliefs. Without Elphaba he would've had a content but unfulfilled life.

And Elphaba needed someone to stand by her, to not leave her alone, to not be ashamed of her, to fight for her, to prioritize her, and to love her unapologetically. That person is Fiyero (and yes, Glinda could've been that person too, but ultimately she made her choice, and by the time she realized she chose wrong it was already too late).

Elphaba spent her whole life feeling unwanted. She needed someone that would spend years looking for her!!! Someone that would risk everything for her!!! Fiyero did that!!! That man was devoted!!! And that's exactly what she deserved!!!

She was alone her whole life until Glinda (except for Nessa, I guess, but even in that relationship Elphaba was always the one that had to take care of her sister), and she is so strong, but in the end she didn't have to be alone anymore, and she didn't have to be strong, she could just let herself be held and loved, and I love that for her 😭❤️

In conclusion: fiyeraba they could never make me hate you

[bambiilooza]

nerites design cuz he has the funniest myth ever imo

[irenespring]

Really I think nothing shouts "my first Presidential election as a politically active person was 2016" more than the fact that when I feel hope and excitement for the future (possible President Harris) for more than five minutes I immediately get a crushing, all-consuming anxiety of "feeling this positive emotion now is going to make it so much worse when the worst thing possible happens" to the extent that I'll probably need my break-glass-in-case-of-emergency anxiety medication.

[gingermintpepper]

There are many things people expect from one called 'God of Blood'. Always, the first thought is the blood of war, the blood of violence, the blood of the weak shed for the goals of the strong. Ares doesn't think of the blood of battle at all. When he thinks of blood, he envisions the many tied knots of blood bonds and bonds forged in the blood of battle. Blood sons and blood daughters, blood brothers and battle sisters, blood oaths and blood vengeance - he watches over them all and keeps close each one of these bonds.

One cannot begrudge his displeasure then when he realises he cannot tell Leto's offspring apart just by looking at them.

It was easier when it was just Artemis. Dark hair curled about her shoulders, a fierce mien whenever Father summons her to the mountain, a scattering of bones and blood shed whenever she was disturbed; the eldest child of Leto was a wild thing, sharp toothed with sharper claws always at the ready. There's whispers of her being a twin, of her other half being made to crawl on their belly as penance for their sin of god-slaying but Ares pays it little mind. What twins look alike among their number? Even dog litters are born distinct with all their unique markings inlaid in their fur. Artemis' twin too would be much more than their sister's mirror image.

Pouring over his list now, he wishes anything about Phoebus Apollo was that simple.

Mirror image did not begin to describe it. The twins were the same height, the same build, had the same colour and texture hair, ate the same raw food and drank the same amount of nectar. There was no difference in how they dressed, no difference in the company they kept, no variance in the weapons they used. There are some days Ares still cannot believe Phoebus will grow into a man and not some nymph with the way his ears have that slender point. He watches them now, sitting together beneath a shady palm and stringing their bows in an uncanny unison and curses because he still cannot tell them apart. What use is his skill in knowing blood when they both have the same damn blood running through their veins? What bond is there to sense when they are tied so tightly together, Ares can scarcely tell brother from sister?

He sighs. Unadorned and completely alone, the only way to know who is who is to speak to them. He'll have to find more ways to tell them apart from a distance. Surely they cannot stay this similar all the rest of their immortal lives.

[mugiwara-lucy]

OMG WE ACTUALLY HAVE NEW EYECATCHERS!! ACTUAL NEW ONES!!!!! FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2016!!!!

And look at the crew being all soft with each other 😭🥹

We SHOULD have gotten a filler of them just chilling either after the Raid or before Egghead

[aihaloos]

Tempted to write a replaced au twst fic where Yuu (or alternatively, I'll use my Yuu, Riyuu, who is basically who I'm writing this for) used to be the cutest girl around, the cheery one who's always around everyone, the one you can't seem to dislike even if your crush falls for her because she earnestly says sorry (even though it's not her fault) and will always help you out if you need her back in her old school. But one day, a new girl comes around and her whole reputation got destroyed. She helps the new girl adjust, tells her all the rumours and introduces her to all the popular kids. But the girl ends up backstabbing her, telling the popular girls rumours about how she intentionally plays up the act to steal their crushes to her, and lies to the boys, telling them she's just playing with their hearts and that she's a horrible person.

Yuu ends up alone and excluded, being seen as "annoying" and only having a few close friends who doesn't really interact with her in public in fear of their reputation being ruined. She ends up miserable at school, and wishes to not go anymore. But one day comes a saving grace, she gets whisked by a mysterious black carriage into Twisted Wonderland, or more specifically, Night Raven College. She doesn't mind working if it meant she doesn't have to deal with her old school, there was still 1 and a half years left of school and she doesn't want to deal with all ghe group projects to be assigned that will inevitably end with everyone not wanting to team up with her. Plus, as annoying Grim is, he's like the animal friend all of the anime and storybook protagonists she knows has, and she doesn't mind him too much.

Some things did change after she and Grim got officially enrolled, but she had no problem adapting to the social expectations of the world, part time jobs with Sam -- and occasionally the canteen -- paid enough to get her tools for cooking basic but delicious food, and new friends without the weight of her past helped her get settled comfortably.

The existence of Overblots stunned her for a bit, but a peek into Riddle and Leona's memories helped her understand the concept, even if just a little. However, things began to change eerily simlarly to her old school when a new girl comes, also in a similar position to her, getting transported to a new, unfamilliar world, and seemingly hailing from a similar world to the Earth she knows. She warmly welcomes her, eager to finally befriend another girl, but it seems that the girl does not share the same enthusiasm.

The girl only barely responds to Yuu's attempts at forming a friendship, and always seems to talk her in a condescending way, and often dismisses her, and especially so whenever there are any boys around.

Yuu will not deny any statements claiming she's an attention seeker or that she plays up her sweet innocent girl act, but she knows to never, ever sacrifice a bystander for it. But if someone insists on war with her... well that's another, different story. She's learnt her lesson of being overly optimistic, and she will not make the same mistake twice. She will not let her make her life a living hell more than it already is with Crowley's irresponsibleness.

Aaand thus begins the story. Or well, however you wanna continue it. I'm honestly in favour of most Housewardens (Kalim, Vil, and Idia in particular. I'll put my reasoning in a few paragraphs down) Adeuce, Tweels, and Ortho for team Yuu. Why?

Well, first of all, Adeuce. This is mostly because the duo is like. with Yuu since Day 1, as much of a bitch as Ace is, I think those two are the most likely to trust and know Yuu well enough to not believe the lies R (< Replacer) tells. Especially Deuce, he doesn't want to betray a friend he knew for quite a while, that would not be very honor student-like of him!! And she helped him out in a lot of situations too! He doesn't want to hurt you after all the trouble you go through to help him, and also knowing how horrible your living conditions are. Ace would most likely give in to peer pressure if the student body is overwhelmingly in favour of R, but as of now, he maybe enjoys your company just a bit more than R. Just a bit, promise.

Tweels I feel like is self-explanatory. Those two are perceptive as fuck istg it scares me. Jade especially. I feel like the two would just toy with R for a bit despite her facade and lies before dropping her after she bothers them for attention and favours one too many times.

(Ortho ties in with Idia so I'll explain him in Idia's paragraph)

Kalim is actually very emotionally intelligent. He can come off annoying and stupid, but from all the scenes I see of him, he's actually really good at dealing with people. Have you seen how he deals with the Scarabia residents after Jamil's OB??? The way he phrases his sentences?? He didn't force or even plead with them to forgive Jamil, he simply asks them to wait before making permanent judgements, and I think he's gonna be uncomfy with how condescendingly R talks to Yuu, and even if he's used to people going after him for money, I feel like R mostly eyeing him for money and how she "secretly" sighs in annoyance everytime she goes out of the party for a "bathroom break" will only solidify his dislike/discomfort, even if he doesn't show it.

Vil is also kind of self-explanatory if you read into his character and not just the shell the official English localization makes for him. (I could rant for hours about how the official tl portrays his character istg. He's hardworking and he actually didn't attempt to poison Neige out of pure jealousy, he did it because he felt like all his efforts to be beautiful will never be able to surpass Neige, who, in his eyes, always seemed to be innocent and naturally beautiful. He feels like the villain in Neige's story. He feels like he is reduced to what he often plays as, a snobbish, overconfident villain obsessed with overthrowing the hero. And because of it, it became a twisted self-fulfilling prophecy, pushing him to, in a fit of despair, be that same villain everyone sees him as.) I really don't think he will take well to R's condescension to Yuu, who genuinely wants to befriend R. (I actually have a whole thing in my head where Yuu and Vil occasionally have sleepovers where they do skincare together after the whole VDC thing happened. I feel like this is also a "vent sesh" of sorts for the both of them, just to air out their grievances without much seriousness, and I think Yuu would admit to wanting a fellow girl in the school that she could befriend, since no matter what, being the only girl can be exhausting.) Ik Vil's not a girl but he is such a girls' girl istg.

Idia... this mostly ties into Ortho and The STYX Incident, but like,, I think we can all agree on this one,, Idia is smart and capital V Very pessimistic. Would you rather trust the girl you've known for a while, who saw your memories, who helped you in awkward social situations when she can and is besties with your brother or some random new girl who trash talks said girl behind her back? The former, right? Plus, even if Yuu did only hang out with him and his brother because she likes to secretly laugh at him behind his back, there's mo guarantee R wouldn't do the same, given his experience. And he would rather have someone who actively helps him and his brother out than someone who wouldn't.

I didn't put Malleus in because of how canon him actually treats Yuu. I feel like the fandom kind of put on rose-tinted glasses on with his character, and kind of ignored some things like, idk... him just leaving them to fend for themselves homeless during Octavinelle... maybe he thought Crowley would offer them a place to stay but like... I'm still bothered by how didn't atleast offer a spare room in Diasomnia. He's a housewarden goddamnit. He's not as distant or scary as the rumours say but like. still rubbed me the wrong way.

Anyways I don't think my attention span will let me write it to completion so if anyone likes this and wants to write it feel free. Pls tag me if you do tho. I would love to read it :3

[ruporas]

soft (and some bittersweet)

[kaiserouo]

i love him

tbh i think the lineart is better than the final result

[plush-rabbit]

Weighted Bodies

Pt. 2 to Foggy Minds Word Count: 3.2K A/N: I had some requests for part two of foggy minds so i came up with this!! -

There’s a knock on your door. It’s quick, and curt and you rush towards the door with a pep in your step, your first instinct at such a knock to believe that it’s a package. But you stop short, and you remember that you hadn’t ordered anything. More knocks follow- rapid and heavier than before and you step back. 

You’ve made your payments for the month. You can’t think that it would be any loan sharks- you’re dumb, but you’re not dumb enough to make those types of decisions. Your stomach twists and you think it’s a client who found you- it wouldn’t be the first time, but you can’t afford to move. Maybe if you’re quiet, whoever is behind the door will leave. The knocks come again, heavier and pounding on the door, and you turn, grabbing at a picture frame, the metal ridges digging into the palm of your hand. You just have to stay quiet-

“Oi!” You flinch at the voice. “It’s me!” Your eyes squint, and you can recognize the voice. “Let me in, will ya? This who fucking place reeks of death and shit.” Oh, you can recognize the voice. “Hurry up!” The banging continues, and you place the picture frame down, and you go to open the door. 

He may be wearing a different mask, but you recognize his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Took you long enough.” He brushes past you and he takes up the whole room. He cranes his neck, walking everywhere and laying down on your couch, resting his head on a decorative pillow. “Your place sucks, by the way. I had some bitch offer to blow me for crack.”

You close the door behind you, securing the locks. You catch the look of disgust on his mask as he analyzes your home. 

“How did you know where I live?” You ask hesitantly, your hands playing with the bottom of your shorts. 

“Your boss,” he says casually, picking up a decorative statue on the end table. “All I had to do was throw money at him, and he gave me the address and-” he digs into his pocket, and pulls out a few condoms. They’re fisted into his hand, and without a care, he tosses them  towards you. They scatter on the ground. You stare at the contraceptives, and back at him, your face growing warm. He clears his throat. “I’m here now, so you’re welcome or whatever.”

“Why-” your voice catches- “Why are you here, Adam?” His mask is emotive, a brief look of wide eyes is quickly replaced by a neutral look. “We just- You usually wait for like a week before and after Extermination Day, so- so what is this?”

He looks at you for a second. And then two. And then five, and when you squirm and look away from him, he snorts. “You could use better couches. You got a sweet puss, can’t you afford something better? Fuck, I know I’m paying way too much for you still to be living in this shithole.”

You’re fine with the comments being made during your line of work, but hearing it out loud in your home, makes everything feel so perverse. Your chest burns, the flames all consuming and making it harder to breathe. “It’s cozy,” you defend.

“It’s a fucking studio.” 

“Well lucky for you, I am moving out.” He turns to you, and places his feet on the worn coffee table. “I uh- I went to the Hazbin Hotel.” You wish he didn’t show up. You’ve never had a client here, not in your personal home. “The princess allowed me to stay, so I’ll probably move out maybe in a few weeks?” You talk to fill the silence. Usually he can be so expressive with the mask, but now, he can’t get a read on him.. Is it because it’s a new mask? Because he hasn’t figured out the wiring or however the mask works? “I mean, it’s not like it matters to you. You don’t- You shouldn’t even be here.” You shake your head. “But um,” you clear your throat, “yeah.” You think you’d rather suck him off at this point than continue to talk. 

“She’s letting you move in?” He sounds taken aback.

You shrug. “It took some convincing.” Your nails scratch along your thighs, and you can breathe a bit easier. “It was like she didn’t want me to. But I guess I looked pathetic enough that she felt bad for me.” You give a weak laugh. “But uh- They have a friend of mine- Angel- so he kinda helped, but even he seemed,” you pause, “weird about it.”

He’s silent. You shuffle your weight between each leg, and you think you’ve said too much. You open your mouth, trying to remedy the situation, but you’re interrupted.

“I’m hungry,” he tells you, grabbing at your remote and flipping through the channels.

You narrow your eyes in confusion. “Okay?”

“Make me something to eat.”

Every part of you is screaming to tell him to leave. To go back to Heaven- that there must be a price to pay for him visiting Hell for- for you. The thought of him visiting for you makes your heart beat against your ribs, drumming loudly behind the ivory cages. He’s visiting for leisure. That’s it. Not for you, but for fun. To annoy you- to annoy a resident of Hell. 

But he’s made himself comfortable. And you hate to admit it- even to yourself- but you like the company. Even if said company is rather brutish. 

“I’m making food because I’m hungry, not because you told me,” you huff, turning on your heel to walk to the adjacent kitchen.

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffs.

-

The plates sit empty, and the television is turned on. The program isn’t anything new, something you’ve seen countless times, same format, different people. It’s boring, and with the swell of your stomach from the savory meal you just had, you could fall asleep. You think you are falling asleep. Your eyes are heavy and your mind is filled with static and mothballs, far too thick for you to be aware as Adam lets his hand rest beside yours. The side of his finger touches yours, and you want to hold his hand.

“If you want to be redeemed, I could probably pull a few strings.” He doesn’t turn around, and you think you dreamt what he just told you. You look at him, and you don’t know if you heard him or not. He looks away from the television, and his hand stays beside yours. 

“What?” You ask with sleep laced into your voice.

“I doubt Sera or Lute would be happy-” you recognize Lute, but you haven’t heard of Sera- “but whatever. They can go fuck themselves if they say anything.” He says the words quietly, held together as if they should have never been uttered, a prayer under the ceiling of your home, the yellow lights nothing like the sunlight from above.

“Are you-” your voice cracks, and you clear your throat- “Are you being for real?”

“Why the fuck would I say it in the first place?” His wings flutter, feathers bristling against the worn couch. He sounds offended that you think he would say this. But what else are you meant to think?

“That’s-” your voice is soft, and filled with doubt and hurt. He turns to you, and he’s waiting and watching. “I can’t do that.” You shake your head. “That’s not fair to Angel. He’s been trying real hard-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice has lost the gentleness that it held before, the soft whisper is gone and replaced with something sharp and cold, and he looks at you through his mask. 

You realize he hasn't removed it in all the time he’s been here.

“Angel- He’s making progress and he’s doing good despite-”

“The porn demon sucks cocks all day-”

“You don’t get to call him that,” you say defensively. “He does what he does because he has to. When you sell your soul, you don’t get to say no.” You pull your hand away from where it was, and you move away from him. “And if he’s the porn demon then what the fuck am I?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he sneers. You flinch at the words. “You’re a sinner. Take the fucking offer.” His mask glitches, and you wonder if it’s made of a cheaper grade. However, you doubt Adam would wear anything less than excellence. “We come down to slaughter you for funsies, and you’re telling me that because you feel bad for the porn demon you aren’t going to take the opportunity to be a winner?”

“It’s just-”

“You’re a Sinner,” he hisses out your name like it’s something grotesque on his tongue, his eyes narrowed and his wings curling behind him. “You don’t have to tough it out in the dirt like this. You could be living it up, we could be fucking on literal clouds.” 

You look away. You forget your place. You forget that he visits not to spend time with you, but to fuck you. You’ve been used for as long as you can remember, and it hasn’t stopped. A part of you hoped that Adam wasn’t entirely like that. That one some deep, hidden, part of him, that he liked you as a Sinner, that he liked you. That perhaps because he was an angel, he had some decency in him.

“Adam,” you speak softly, your eyes fixating on a plate.

“What?”

“You’re being mean.” You roll your bottom lip between your teeth. “Meaner than usual.”

“I’m being honest.” 

“You’re still being mean,” you tell him, shoulders raised and the food in your stomach churning. 

He huffs. “I don’t know why you’d rather stay at this shithole. And then you’re going over to the princess’s hotel? Sinners are meant to stay down here. That bitch isn’t gonna save anyone.” His words are cold, and he hasn’t looked away from you. “You think you’re going to be redeemed?”

“Well-” you drag out, looking away from him. You aren’t sure. You want to believe that people can be redeemed, but a part of you knows that you’re only moving because it gets you free lodging. Rent isn’t cheap, and living in a hotel sounds fun. 

“Let me give it to you straight,” he practically snarls. The venom in his voice is laid thick onto his words. “You aren’t.” His wings flap and the feathers prick themselves, the soft form they held, now rough and looking as if they were made for fighting rather than holding. “I’m giving you a chance to take the easy road and become an angel, but you’re too fucking dumb to even say yes.”

Your throat tightens, and your eyes burn with heavy tears. “I think you should leave.”

“Fuck you.” He grabs your wrist and you’re reminded that despite the physical appearance of him looking so man- he’s far more than that. “You think because I fuck you twice a year, that it makes you special?” His wings flare out, the golden feathers suddenly so cold. His voice is cold, and he presses his face closer to yours, teeth bared and a scowl ruining his pretty face.

Something awful twists at your stomach, nails piercing into your guts and innards, and leaving you filled with bile. “You quite literally asked me if I wanted to be redeemed,” you say quietly, spitting the words out. “Excuse me for thinking I’m so special.” The words are heavy and weak as they escape. 

The eyes of the mask narrow, and his wings curl in, and you wonder just how powerful they are. “You’re a good fuck. That’s it. I get to rough you up, you beg for me.” His hand tightens around your wrist. “I’m offering it because it’s hard to find someone so fucking pathetic like you. Go to that hotel or don’t. Next extermination, I swear,” his words are filled with malice, “if I see you,” his nails dig into your skin, “I’ll be the one to-”

“The one to what?” You interject, your eyes glossy and voice wavering. “What? You’ll kill me? Fuck you, Adam. You- You come down here and act like you’re so much better than anyone else here-” you yank your hand back and clasp your other hand over the wrist- “well you aren’t.” Your chest rises and falls, your teeth bared in a desperate attempt to make yourself look dangerous. But with the tears in your eyes, and every fiber in your being begging you to run, to scream and hide away, you know you don’t even appear to be a threat. 

You sit on the opposite end of the couch, holding your wrist, and trying not to cry. You can’t give him that satisfaction. But your legs bounce, and they won’t stop, no matter how much you try. You should have kicked him out before, you could have lied about having plans. You should have screamed for help- though you doubt your neighbors would actually do something about it.

“Why did you come here, Adam?” You ask, looking down at the ground. “We had something good going on.” You tuck your legs under yourself, biting at the inside of your cheeks, grimacing when you bite too harshly. “Even if I wanted to be a Winner, I wouldn’t- I’d be lost up there.”

He’s quiet for far too long and the rejection makes you close in on yourself. 

“I wouldn’t kill you.” Your eyes glance over to him for a moment, but he’s turned his head the other way. “I didn’t mean it.” His hand goes to curve over where his usual horns are, but they flutter in the air, falling until they grasp onto the curved steel bone of his new mask. “You wouldn’t be lost,” he tells you, his face turned towards the wall in front of him. His voice is tight, almost as if he’s embarrassed to be telling you what he’s saying now. His wings flutter, gold shimmering in a wave. He clears his throat, and looks away. “A bunch of the angels are on the welcoming committee.”

“There’s a welcoming committee?”

“It’s fucking lame. We have some guy sing a song about how everyone in Heaven is hot, and he just flies around.” He sounds annoyed, the eyes of his mask forming a thin line of glowing dots, and you snort. “I’m telling you it’s fucking torture to listen to the damn song every time we get a new soul.” He waves his hand in the air, agitation light in his voice. 

“When I arrived in Hell, it sucked.” He looks at you. You don’t like to talk about your arrival to Hell. Not to your friends, not to anyone. You hardly like to think about it yourself. “I uh-” you smile bitterly- “I was so upset. I was in hell. It was hot. The noises were loud. And I-” you stop, the feeling of loneliness making your body feel detached- “I was hungry.” You hadn’t realized just how loneliness was so consuming.

“What do you remember?” He probes.

You pause. You remember being terrified and alone; wanting someone to take you in their arms and tell you that you were safe; you remember wanting it all to be a dream. “I remember the pain of landing here.” You watch as his wings unfurl, one spilling over the armrest of your couch, the other careful to not smack you. It brushes against you, and you look at them memorized, the patterns of the feather delicacy etched upon him. “I think I’d take a song any day.” You remember taking jobs that you had never thought you’d ever take.

“Come ‘ere,” he tells you. You crawl towards him, and he touches you, his hands steady and holding you firmly as they situate you above him, letting you sit on his lap. The glowing eyes make your own look away, the gaze of him far too much, too empty and unclear for you to feel comfortable. You know your place. A pet for him when he wants it. Going to heaven would only further cement your place at the ground that he stands on. His hands grab yours and they guide you to the end of his mask. “Take it off.” 

It’s a heavy mask. You wish you could examine it, even if you aren’t sure what any of it would mean, but you want to study it, to let your finger trace over the features. Your attention is pulled back to him, and you thin your lips. 

He’s always been difficult to look at. His eyes are gold, shimmering and shining under your lights, how hair tousled and set from being confined in the mask, and you can’t stand to look at him. You close your eyes, and your hands ghost over his cheeks, tensing and choosing to rest over his clothed shoulders. Your lips meld, and your hands tighten over his shoulders. It’s soft, his stubble tickling your chin. You murmur his name, repeated when he kisses your neck, his name muttered like a prayer, your hands clawing and grasping at him. You shut your eyes, your body curling into his touch, lips desperate to find his again. You need him. You crave him. You wish he’d stop grabbing at your skin, but every touch is feverish, flaming your body more than it already has. 

You kiss him with want. You kiss him like you’re alone all over again, wanting to commit him to memory.

-

Your eyes grow heavier, sleep wrapping itself around you like a warm blanket, or perhaps it’s his wing, curled around you, spilling over your body and your sofa. Each blink grows longer, and you nestle to the side of him, clinging to his warmth. “When are you moving to the hotel?” His voice is soft, the tips of his hands scratching up and down your arm. You mumble your answer, letting your eyes come to a close. “The hotel fucking sucks. The whole idea of it does. It's like she wants you to die.” Your brows furrow with each passing word. The words are lost on you, your mind too foggy with sleep to pick apart the words and piece the clues together. “Lilith’s brat is only setting you up for failure.”

“‘M used to it,” you mumble. “‘S no big deal, Ads.” You wish he’d stop talking. You’re tired, can’t he hear it in your voice? 

“It’s fucking dumb,” he spits. 

“Adam,” you whine, your legs tensing and squeezing around his own, “‘M tired.” You feel the gust of his wings, a ghost of a touch making your skin prick in chills. 

“Stop talking.” His feathers are soft, and you always forget just how they feel despite touching them quite a few times. They curl around you, a heavy blanket or warmth, the soft hints of cologne and musk envelop you, and he’s soft under you, tender and gentle, his hands tracking into your skin, invisible tattoos kissed onto you. “I can do whatever I want in Heaven.”

“Mhm, sounds great,” you whisper, your body heavy above his, limp with sleep and full with sin and unknowing. 

You're pulled closer to him, and you welcome his warmth and his comfort. “Even if you don't want to be redeemed, you can stay up there. I'll have you taken care of. No one would say shit.”

[longmaxsilvarg]

just think that it's maybe like really kinda a tiny bit cruel that chloe and joyce don't get to be together no matter what ending

[zhongrin]

between genshin, hsr, and zzz, i have to say i have a lot of enjoyment and high hopes for zzz.

the team working for zzz are just amazing in my eyes (which sounds crazy especially since they're all hyv games). for one, i think so far they follow through with almost everything that they've promised. making the game having a 'low floor, high ceiling' and therefore isn't just a pure powercreep gacha game (looking at you hsr). all the gameplay promises with timelines they would say in dev notes (like getting players to be able to use different characters in the map by 1.4). literally giving us options to enjoy the contents through two different modes because half of the player base dislikes a certain mode of the game (therefore doubling the effort of the dev team to work on, which is still so crazy to me that they're actually taking this approach)...

of course all of them has their pros and cons in my eyes. for example, i am very much not a fan of zzz's blatant gooner bait, among other peeves. but something about having the developers listening closely to our feedback since the very start of the game and visibly making changes to the actual game itself accordingly is just so nice.

anyway. i'm going to go view more rooms. have a good weekend, all of you!

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

Can someone tell me if the Little Brother Fake CEO survives this drama?

I'm so worried for him.

Edit: I had a feeling he was marked for death.

[balsee]

the relationship between jinx and isha is so interesting that it's really a shame it wasn't explored more in the second season. obviously arcane is fantastic overall, but one major criticism is how rushed the final season felt, and i wish their relationship didn't have to suffer for it as a result.

[scribble-dee-vee]

"I'm not a good man."

From this morning's drafting session! I promise this line is more sad and less edgy in context, lmao.

No-pressure tagging @teacupwriter, @radiowrites, and @bardicbeetle, plus anyone else who wants to do it!

Last Line Tag

thanks for the tag @oh-no-another-idea! another out-of-context line from the new wip:

He always thought he’d be dead.

I should update my taglist, but tagging (if you'd like, no pressure!) @notwritinganyflufftoday, @pluto-murphy-writes, @kaylinalexanderbooks, and whoever reads this!