#a million skull emojis

[artistformerlyknownasbutttrumpet]

i think biden sucks shit, and that his backing of israel is morally reprehensible. i think that the wealthy ultimately have almost all of the power, and the system is corrupt and set up for us to fail. but i also know that we, as citizens, have one (1) way of making any amount of actual, tangible change, and that's voting. the people we vote in will almost definitely be pieces of shit, but again, this isn't about creating a utopia, this is about harm reduction

is my original post reductive? yeah, i'll concede to that. that's bc it came from a place of anger and fear, bc i truly fear for the livelihood/actual lives of myself and others like myself if trump were to serve a second term, and i am very tired of hearing people say that they won't vote for biden bc they can't support his actions

and part of the reason for that is bc i get it. it feels absolutely counterintuitive to vote for someone who actively supports the death of innocent people. it becomes especially difficult to vote for that person when there are so few other things we can do as individuals to stop the current atrocities from happening. we are inundated. every day we are inundated with horrors other people are going through that our country is supporting, and there is an overwhelming need to DO something, bc otherwise we're just staring at pictures of dead children and feeling guilty for not doing enough, and then feeling guilty for feeling guilty, bc our problems are not nearly as bad as what's happening to these people overseas, and how can we be so selfish, there must be something more we can do, right? but the truth is, we can boycott starbucks and click a daily button, but ultimately, we simply do not have enough power to bring a genocide to a stop on our own. and so it's very enticing to withhold a vote, bc that, at least, is something real, with real consequences. biden will feel the effects of that, and he will know it's bc of his actions in support of genocide, and that would feel like a win for us, which carries a lot of worth when we've been so powerless

here's the problem tho: it is more harmful, not just to us citizens, but internationally as well, to not vote for biden than to vote for him. trump is astronomically more dangerous of a person. he is targeting every vulnerable population you can think of, and he may very well get his way if given enough power. palestine will not be better off with trump as president. not only will they be be worse off, but now even more people's lives will be at stake as well

so if you really want to help palestine? if you want to DO something actionable that will make a difference? you have to give up your pride and vote for biden. you are NOT endorsing genocide. i think people really need to hear that. you are NOT endorsing genocide if you vote for biden. what you are doing is an act of harm reduction. people are going to get hurt one way or another, and that truth is disgusting, and some days feels fucking dystopian, but we can reduce the number of people getting hurt if we prevent trump from taking office

i don't appreciate the assumption that me making a post on tumblr when i'm upset is indicative of all i do in my personal life to advocate for change, but i also understand that it's the only image of me that you have, just as your response to my post is the only image of you that i have. for what it's worth, my assumptions about you are that, quite likely, you are a very kind person who cares about the well-being of others. why would you be upset about any of this if you weren't? i think we are, at a fundamental level, on the same side, and in that way, i can understand your point about alienation. i am just scared, friend, that's the gist of it. my country is a terrifying place to live in right now, and i'm scared about it pretty much all of the time. i am afraid for myself, sure, but i'm also afraid for every person that is at risk right now, and that is a lot of responsibility to hold in your heart at once, which i'm sure you know, because i think you're probably doing it too

i really hate that "vote for biden bc he's less worse than trump" is the reason we should vote for him, but, well, it is. trump is bad enough that yes, absolutely, we should vote for whomever is "less worse" than him. if you can't cure the addiction, you can at least provide clean needles. if you can't overthrow a fascist dystopian government, you can at least protect a few lives

the whole situation is terrible, but while i may not mean it with quite the same flippancy i delivered it with in my op, i still maintain that a vote withheld is a vote for trump. that remains true, whether we want to believe it or not

i hope things go well for you, friend. i wish you no ill, even if you wish it on me

(oh, also, general reminder to vote for congress too!)

the end ig

just letting those refusing to vote for biden this november know that donald trump thanks you for your endorsement

[millionsknives]

☆DEEP☆SPACE☆PLANET☆FUTURE☆GUN☆ACTION!!☆

[katyspersonal]

Lore Council on a chill day be like:

literally no one:

me: What do you M E A N many people were struggling with Bayle?! He took me like, 4 attempts!!!

@val-of-the-north: Kat back then and not very long time ago you basically cried at how hard the dragons in the BASE game were for you, you absolutely could not deal with them and was running away like a chicken even from non-boss respawning enemies!

me: Haha, GREEEEAT, just AWESOME. Now you are going to bother me about something that only was true years ago :/ Damn, with this attitude you should write aWaReNeSs uwu posts on Tumblr 🤦‍♂️ God forbid weirdos like you internalise that humans are not fixed!

Val: ??? KAT I AM TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOU FOR HOW FAR YOU'VE CAME AND HOW YOU BECAME A GREAT DRAGON SLAYER THESE DAYS!

me: I DON'T NEED YOUR EXCUSES YOU CRINGEFAIL LOOSER WITH SKILL ISSUE GO SIMP FOR PATCHES OR DO EQUALLY USELESS ACTIVITIES!!!

Val: FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!

@fantomette22: Wait I didn't get it how simping for Patches is useless... I mean it is useful for him 😅 It's okay Val you can love his bald head we support you 💀

me: Hey whose side are you on?!

Val: Finally someone gets me lol

@heraldofcrow: Finally not I am the one getting harassed by Katy! Mwahaha! *posts a gif of Morticia elegantly sipping wine or some shit like this idk*

me: DON'T COUNT ON IT, THE DAYS FOR YOU AND YOUR GENERIC WHITE-HAIRED ANIME BLORBOS ARE NUMBERED, CHICKEN!!!

Crow: Chicken? According to Val, the real chicken here is you when you see a dragon... *a gif with a guy shrugging*

me: IT WAS IN THE PAST AN NOT TRUE, CAN ANY OF YOU PRICKS COMPREHEND THE CONCEPT OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!!!

Val: I LITERALLY TRIED TO DO JUST THAT AND YOU DIDN'T LET ME!!!

me: AN ACTUAL DRAGON IN THIS SITUATION WILL BE YOU IF YOU DON'T STOP MAKING ME LOOK BAD!!!!!!!!!

Fantomette: Hmmm well I mean yeah good job on learning to beat the dragons Katy 👍 They are not that hard though

me: NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR WHAT A PERSON WHO FIRST-TRIED ELDEN BEAST HAS TO SAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Fantomette: Okay 💀 I just wanted to give you tips...

Crow: LMAO I LOVE THIS, Fantomette is great at adapting to the bosses when Katy comes up with super unlikely strategies and somehow makes them work! I can't play right now but @ val what is your playstyle then?

me: He doesn't have one, he is too busy polishing his bf's head and remembering MORE of my past to lord all over me :facepalm:

Val:

[hopetorun]

saw your answer to the "what people get wrong about nc" ask so going off of that, have you ever read any of the current Canes stuff on ao3?? there's some Sebastian/Teuvo but not much else I think? I get it if that's not a ship of yours though

oh gosh it's been so long since i read canes fic! and the stuff i've read is mostly short so it never gave me much insight into how people represent nc in fic. anyway i don't not ship sebastian and teuvo but i don't think i'd go looking for it either. i'd read it with recs from a beloved mutual or something tho probably

[syrinq]

the bg3 experience is winding down with a party after you annihilated the goblin camp, saying hi to friendly guy zevlor, looking around in the bushes in hopes to find the baby owlbear you freed earlier that week, getting propositioned for hardcore sex by lae'zel, being called bitchless by astarion who still very much needs to have sex with someone (just not you), having drinks and saying hi to a bunch of other fellas

all the while you're still 1) covered in blood from battle and 2) holding your ginormous flaming sword because that's apparently your comfort item at this point

[gaystropod]

guy who frequently regrets blocking people: this interaction needlessly stressed me out/pissed me off i am going to run away.

[mythmash]

In Sickness

Pairing: Takuma Ino x F!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: birthday sickfic, lots of fluff, implied smut A/N: This was written for the wonderful @pastelbunnelby! JJK Masterlist

If there’s one thing Ino loves more than you, it’s the chance to celebrate you.

He’s been looking forward to your birthday for weeks, excitement pouring out of him each day it grew closer. A day hasn’t gone by without him dropping little hints hidden behind that charming grin of his. And it’d be a lie to say his eagerness wasn’t contagious. Every tease, every clue, every promise that your first birthday as a couple would be nothing short of spectacular had you eagerly awaiting the day almost as much as him.

That eagerness turns to pure, unfiltered excitement the night before your birthday when a box appears at your front door. It’s plain, smooth black material tied with a silky, white ribbon. The size tells you it’s either a dress or an outfit, but the card tucked into the ribbon gives you clear instructions not to open it until morning. Your fingers itch to disobey, nails picking at the edges of the ribbon, the corners of the lid, any part they can reach as you carry the box to your bedroom.

A little peek wouldn’t hurt, right?

Knowing what you’ll be wearing would help you figure out how to do your hair…

What if there are no shoes in the box? You wouldn’t want Ino’s plans to be delayed because you spent too long finding the right pair.

What if it’s not an outfit at all? That’s even more time you’ll waste trying to find something else to wear.

Your mind races with a million reasons to tear into the box, fingers already curling under the lid.

But Ino’s handsome face flashes through your mind, a tight smile hiding his imagined disappointment. Something knots in your stomach, immediately repulsed at possibly ruining weeks of work. If Ino can manage to wait this long without spoiling the surprise, you can too.

You quell your anxious urges by sending him a picture of yourself holding the box before tucking it beneath your bed. Out of sight, out of mind.

Ino responds immediately, your phone buzzing once, twice, thrice as you prepare for bed.

Several texts await you when you finally settle in bed. A slew of heart emojis followed by a paragraph of compliments and finished with a single text wishing you a good night. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, feeling the warmth in your cheeks and the thrumming in your heart at the thought of him so excited to spend time with you.

You fall asleep staring at his photo beaming at you from the lock screen of your phone, and dream of all the ways you’ll spend tomorrow.

With all of your anticipation, it’s only fitting that you wake early the next morning with a throbbing pain nested comfortably in your head. When you shift beneath your covers, the pain spreads to your limbs, leaving a resounding ache. Every move, every blink, every thought only serves to make you feel worse until you grow frustrated and force yourself to sit up.

Your mistake is quickly realized as your vision doubles, stomach turning so violently you choke trying to swallow down your dry heave.

Of all the days for this to happen.

Carefully laying yourself back down, you gingerly slide your hand to the side for your phone. It takes a sickening effort to lift your phone and even more to get it close to your face. The artificial light is nearly blinding in the early morning hours, sending renewed pulses of pain through your skull. You put all your focus and concentration into unlocking your phone and finding Ino’s texts. There’s no way you’ll be able to form a proper sentence, much less type it out.

You’re not entirely sure what you say to him in the voice note. You know what you meant to say — something along the lines of “I’m so sorry, I think I’m sick.” — but your throat scratches with every word. Combined with your already sleep-thick voice, the message is short and takes what little energy you have left.

You succumb to your body’s exhaustion with the thought that maybe you should’ve called him.

When you wake again, it’s late in the morning. While your body no longer vibrates with pain, the heat building beneath your covers is suffocating and the scratch in your throat has grown significantly. Sweat-soaked and barely awake, you stumble your way to your bathroom and into the shower.

Most of your shower is spent sitting on the floor, letting the icy water wash across your overheated skin. You don’t bother with anything more than that, only just able to power through brushing your teeth before you feel that draining heaviness growing in your limbs.

You collapse on your bed, draped over your blankets half-dressed in clean pajamas, and fumble once more for your phone. You’re able to send an actual text this time, informing Ino of your current state and apologizing profusely. There’s no response, not even his usual thumbs up or heart reaction.

Ino isn’t one to get upset when plans change, always happy to go with the flow, but you know how much he was looking forward to today. He could need a moment to deal with his disappointment. Or he could be busy and not looking at his phone. You don’t want to jump to conclusions and assume the worst, but the guilt swimming around in your head has your anxiety on high.

Eyelids growing heavy, you tell yourself you’ll try again in fifteen minutes. If that doesn’t work, then you’ll call him.

Fifteen minutes, you think, letting your head sink into the soft cushion of your pillow.

All you need is fifteen minutes…

Three knocks in quick succession pull you out of your dreamless sleep. You wake confused and slightly startled, groaning into your pillow as the light and sound and blankets draped over you hit you all at once.

“Sorry.” Ino’s voice reaches your ears, gentle and soothing. You chase the sound, the comfort it brings, turning your head in the direction of his voice. The light is still too much for you, peering one eye open to gaze at the concerned face of your boyfriend. He kneels beside your bed, dressed down to a black shirt and loose shorts with his beanie resting on your nightstand.

“Morning,” you rasp, lips pulled into a tired smile.

“Evening,” Ino chuckles, reaching out to tenderly place the back of his hand against your damp forehead. “Looks like your fever’s gone down.”

“How long have you been here?” You speak slowly, trying not to agitate your already raw throat. Ino hums, turning his hand to rest it against your cheek. You lean into his touch, the soft glide of his thumb over your cheekbone nearly soothing you back to sleep.

“Couple hours,” Ino shrugs. “I got us lunch, but you were knocked out pretty good.”

“What time is it?” you ask, turning your head in search of your phone. Ino pulls his hand away to pluck your phone from where it’s hidden beneath his beanie, plugged in to charge.

“Not late enough to worry your pretty little head,” he teases. He doesn’t tell you, but the burnt orange shining through your windows gives you your answer. Guilt settles firmly in the pit of your stomach, not helped by the empathetic smile Ino gives you. Not a hint of anger or disappointment, only concern tinted with sadness.

Somehow, that feels worse.

You turn away, face pressed into the pillow as you give a muffled, “’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing? For being sick?” There’s a pinch to your cheek, playfully scolding. You huff, puffing out your cheeks to push his hand away before shifting to sit up. Ino hovers beside you, ready and waiting if you need him.

“But…I ruined your plans…” you murmur. Fingers worrying at the blankets, you keep your gaze fixed on a loose thread you tear from the soft material.

“Hey—” A gentle grasp on your chin carefully turns your head until you’re face to face with Ino, “—you didn’t ruin anything.”

He leans forward, lightly pressing his forehead to yours.

“But—”

“Nope.” He cuts your words off with a swift kiss to your nose.

“I wasn’t—”

Another kiss. Then a peck to your cheek.

“Ino—”

He moves for your lips, and you swiftly cover his mouth with your palm.

“You’re going to get sick,” you scold him. His response is another kiss immediately followed by his tongue messily sliding up your palm. You shove his face away, smiling through your disgusted scoff as his laughter echoes in your room.

“It’s too late for that, anyway. I took a nap with you earlier.”

“You—what?” Ino’s up and moving before you have time to process that.

He searches through your clothes, casually moving between your closet and dresser. He pauses once, a pair of your favorite fuzzy socks in hand, speaking to you over his shoulder, “You think you can get up?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you nod. He hums, satisfied, tossing you the socks before moving back to your closet. He fishes through your clothes for a bit longer while you pull the socks on, but gives up his search when you move to sit on the edge of your bed. Ino grins, standing before you with his hands out.

“Up and at ‘em!” he cheers as you set your hands in his and he helps you to your feet. You wobble, but Ino is quick to steady you against his chest. He gives you a minute to adjust to being upright for the first time in hours, placing several kisses on the side of your head.

“I’m okay,” you assure him, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

“Good,” Ino hums, moving out of your reach to stand behind you. “Now, you trust me, right?”

“Of course,” you answer instantly. Ino pauses for a moment, the stillness only broken when he leaves a long kiss on the side of your neck. He mutters something, and you catch the words perfect and lucky somewhere in there before he clears his throat.

“Cover your eyes for me?”

You do as he says, eyes sliding shut before you cover them with your hands.

One of Ino’s hands rests in the middle of your back, the other on your arm. His radiating warmth sinks into your skin, chasing away the chill of your lingering fever.

“You let me know if you need a break, okay?”

There’s some shuffling behind you as Ino leans forward, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His voice low, a familiar timbre reserved only for you, you can hear the smirk when he reminds you, “No peeking.”

Ino leads you to your bedroom door, separating from you for a brief moment to hold it open for you. You’re guided down the short hallway from your room to the living room where a delicious, savory scent awaits you accompanied by a subtle rush of warm air and soft music.

“Okay,” Ino breathes, pulling away from you. You can hear his feet shuffling around the room, the clink of metal, and the rustling of…tissue paper? Ino mutters something again, taking a deep, uncharacteristically nervous, breath.

“Open your eyes.”

It’s not often you’re left speechless, but the sight of your living room takes your breath away. The lights are off, replaced by the glowing amber of the electric candles set up around the room. Music plays from Ino’s phone, something delicate and classical at a volume low enough to hear, but not too loud to worsen your headache. Your coffee table is decorated with tiny candles and flowers, plates and silverware set up like a romantic dinner with soup from your favorite restaurant and wine glasses filled with ginger ale.

And at the center of it all stands Ino, holding a gift bag and bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Happy birthday.”

“You planned all this?” you ask, nearly breathless.

“There was some last-minute improvising, but it’s most of what I planned.” Ino ducks his head, bashful as he attempts to avoid your eyes.

“It’s perfect.”

He perks up as you make your way towards him.

“Rea—”

You interrupt him, hands on his cheeks as you pull him in to meet your lips. You don’t pull away, instead peppering thankful kisses from his mouth to each cheek.

“What happened to me getting sick?” Ino laughs, trying to chase your lips and meet you kiss for kiss.

You take a step back, hand pressed to your chest in mock offense. “So you don’t want me to kiss you?”

Ino sets the gift bag down, moving to wrap an arm around your waist with surprising speed. It’s his turn to smother you in affection as he switches between kisses and nuzzling against your cheek. His nose tickles against your face, giggles spilling out of you.

"I didn't say that."

It’s a sweet moment, one you’ll surely treasure for the rest of your life until the laughter catches up with you and the giggles turn to coughing.

Ino guides you to get comfortable at the coffee table, setting your flowers down on the sofa behind you before he settles in next to you.

Dinner is peaceful, content. Ino lets you lean against him, one arm wrapped around your shoulders, as you slowly get through your soup, telling you stories about his friends, his job, anything that he knows will make you smile. He admits to annoying his mentor, Nanami, with his unreserved excitement for your birthday, and kisses away the niggling guilt that crosses your face.

“We have plenty of time. We can do it all another day,” he says easily.

“Good,” you huff, tucking yourself against his side as he takes a sip from his glass. “I want to wear the outfit you got me.”

Ino sputters and chokes, turning away from you to cough into the crook of his elbow.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Ino waves you away, turning further and further every time you lean closer. There’s only so far he can go, and it isn’t hard to catch the blazing red of his cheeks.

Was he flustered over the dress? Why? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s bought clothes for you; he’s never been this shy about it before. The only time you can remember seeing him like this was on your fourth date when you walked by a window display that had a pale pink mannequin wearing—

Worry melts into mischief as you practically crawl your way into his lap until he’s forced to face you.

“Did you get me lingerie for my birthday?”

Ino groans, tucking his head so far into the crook of your neck you can’t tell if the heat is coming from your fever or his face.

“You said you liked it in the window.” Ino lifts his head just enough to pout at you. You lean down, setting your forehead to his with a soft, teasing smile.

“We have plenty of time.” You mimic his earlier words, watching the embarrassment ease from his mind as his eyes fall to your lips. Ino leans forward, and you don’t stop him.

“Why wait?” he asks, glancing up at you as if asking for permission. When you don’t object, he inches closer and closer and closer, not quite kissing you but nearly there.

“I really don’t want you to get sick,” you murmur against his lips.

Ino closes the gap with a searing kiss, pouring every ounce of care and affection he has for you into it. You’re sick and sweaty and gross, but the way he kisses you leaves you feeling so wanted, so precious, so loved.

He breaks away only for a second, a wide grin spread across his lips.

“Worth it.”

And when Ino gets sick four days later, you’re right there beside him with warm soup and endless kisses.

[lovisyandereblog]

Yan!Android × Creator!Darling- I just can't get it out my mind... like, you created them. You're ✨️god✨️

I can keep going on this idea for a looong time, maybe next time haha

My English might not be the best, not my native language :D May I be the ⚜️Anon?

Wired Heart

Yandere Android X NON-BINARY Creator [Scientist] Reader

Part 1 <3

Guys big shout out to whoever wrote this ask cause it was one of the first asks I got and I kept postponing it, i love this ask smmmmm i hope its up to your expectations😭😭 and of course you can be ⚜️anonnnn IT TOOK ME FIVE WHOLE MINUTES TO FIND THIS EMOJI!!!!

The whirring of the machinery snapped you out of your thoughts.

Who knew building such an intricate and sophisticated robot took so long?

Sitting before you on your laboratory table was a beautiful android, so gorgeous it almost surprised you that you were its creator. Its jet black hair was soft to the touch, a lean yet muscular frame and those glowing red eyes.

You smile to yourself, hands on your hips as you admire your own creation; he was indeed beautiful.

‘Time to turn it on! Im so excited!’ You thought to yourself, wiping the sweat of your forehead.

You brought your finger to its power button, taking a deep breath before pressing it promptly.

Its bright red eyes opened immediately, you stared at it excitedly as it adjusted to its controls.

“Greetings Master. It’s lovely to finally meet you.” The AI spoke, smiling gently as its smooth voice filled the room.

“Hello Xander, the feeling is mutual.” You smile and can’t stop revelling in the glory of bringing to life such an intricate robot.

Xander was an amazing assistant for you, always there to help with any duty assigned to him. His features, expressions and ministrations were so life-like, sometimes you felt as if the robot in front of you was real.

He was the first prototype for the business you were aiming to start: a company which sold human-like AI to act as partners for lonely people.

An inquisitive idea you were taking advantage of since, let’s face it, millions of people craved a partner in this world.

Your robots would do everything a real partner would do: shower them with affection, spend quality time with them and basically ensure the customer doesn’t feel like it was a robot.

Weeks passed, you felt weary. There was always this feeling in your stomach; something was wrong. You felt a pair of eyes piercing through your skull all of the time. Your creation had been acting weird recently; almost as if it became a sentient being.

Xander would want to be with you 24/7, he would ask constant questions in regards to where you were going, who you were with and how long you were going to be; it became immensely suffocating.

Even your friends and family commented on the nature of your robot, that he seemed more than just your AI helper. They said at time it seemed as though he actually was your real human boyfriend—you kept brushing it off, but the truth of the matter was that you were questioning Xander’s intentions too.

Your robot did take care of you so well: cooking for you, cleaning for you, nursing you back to health when you were sick and tending to your every beck and call.

But you felt uneasy, his touch would linger on you for far too long—not a random touch but one of longing. The way his eyes would follow your every move with were a sense of affection. It was scary.

And thats why you took the long-awaited decision to terminate Xander—it broke your heart to do this, but Xander was taking control of your whole life.

You swallow as you walk into your workspace, looking at Xander on charging. His eyes were closed, hiding that crimson gaze of his. Your eyes ran all over his features, taking them in one by one before sighing.

Your hands worked skilfully on the keyboard of your computer, bringing up the data of Xander on the screen. You had already made a terminate control to be used in dire emergency situations…could this count as one?

You turn your head to look at the side of Xander’s face before bringing the cursor to hover over the big red control which read TERMINATE.

Your finger was inches away from pressing down on the left side of the mouse before a sharp pain evolved in your wrist—you gasped in pain before looking up at the cause.

Xander. Wait…Xander?!

Those bloodshot eyes of his were wide open, his perfect features looked tense; as if he really felt the pain of being eradicated from existence from the very being who gave him life.

You had no words, this can’t be real. He had no control over gaining consciousness during his charging period without your authority.

But here he was, his expression morphed into one of rage.

“Master. What are you doing?” His voice was cold, but you swore you could hear a hint of hurt.

You stared up at him, your wrist in an iron grip which you couldn’t get out of.

Your creation leaned down further, his perfect face inches away from you, “Do not ignore me Master, you are hurting me.”

His voice was broken, hoarse and upset; he couldn’t fathom why you would do something like this to him. He had been so good for you, he did everything you asked from him and never let you complain.

Xander felt his chest hurt, this wasn’t what he was created for. But he couldn’t help what was happening to him; his growing feelings, no, love and obsession he felt for you couldn’t be stopped.

“X-Xander you..you…you’re..h-how..” You could barely form a sentence, your brain still not processing what was happening in front of you. You must have just been sleep-deprived and imagined this situation for yourself. Yes..that was definitely what had happened…this wasn’t real.

“Im yours Master, how could you throw me away like this?!”

You had no words when suddenly he wrapped his arms around you, locking you in his arms; being made of metal still didn’t stop his hug being disturbingly comfortable.

You tried pushing away but there was no way you could escape his grip, you had taken over his wired heart; the sole reason from these unusual feelings he was having.

“You made me Master, but I won’t let you get rid of me.” He spoke, his voice slightly muffled by your shoulder he was nuzzling into, “We will be together…”

“Forever~”

BROOOO IM FINALLY DONEEEEE. Sorry this is so short, I still don’t know how to extend this but im working on other stories aswell!! I love you all so much and have missed you<33333333333

my masterlist <3

divider by @ohmarigold

[emeraldwarriors]

WILLIAM HAND COSTED 500 THOUSAND STUDS

have been playing lego batman 3 and i absolutely adore how barry's idle animation is doing speedy push ups and eating ice cream while hal's idle animation is literally just making a giant construct of himself

[underworld-park-offical]

TWEEK: Okay

TWEEK: You

TWEEK: Mister

TWEEK: Tinfoil

TWEEK: Hat

TWEEK: Guy

KENNY: Stan

TWEEK:  What

KENNY: His names Stan

TWEEK: Okay

TWEEK: Cool

TWEEK: I'm not gonna remember that

TWEEK: You said you had

TWEEK: Like

TWEEK: A bunker

TWEEK: Right?

STAN: Yeah

CRAIG: Dog shit covered ahhh barn 💀

TWEEK: Why is he saying Skull emoji out loud

TOLKIEN: Not even WE know at this point

KYLE: We gotta get him to stop that

KYLE: It's more annoying than KYLE: ….Whatever….. Stan's got going on

CRAIG: Omg not you slandering me 💀

CRAIG: Don't even rn you look like the Goodwill shat you out

KYLE: Fuck you

KYLE: You know that Supreme hoodie isn't even real Supreme, right?

CRAIG: Lmao what

CRAIG: Me when I lie

KYLE: Nonononono

KYLE: Look look look

KYLE: It says “Souprem”

KYLE: It's fake merch dude

KYLE: Its as fake as those fucking yeezys

CRAIG: ….

KYLE: …Dude?

CRAIG: No that's my other hoodie

KYLE: Are you fucking serious

KYLE: You aren't even rich stop acting like you are

CRAIG: Nuh uh

KYLE: FUCK YOU MEAN NUH UH????

TOLKIEN: Kyle, just give it up

TOLKIEN: Trying to convince Craig he isn't rich is like trying to convince a toddler to wipe their own ass

TOLKIEN: It's not worth it

CLYDE: …. CLYDE: Why do I feel like that was directed towards me?

TOLKIEN: Because It was, Clyde

CLYDE: OH COME ON I WASH MY OWN ASS

TOLKIEN: NO THE FUCK YOU DO NOT YOU SMELL LIKE A TACO BELL CLYDE: FUCK YOU CLYDE: AT LEAST TWEEK LIKES ME TOLKIEN: OH SURE SURE SURE TOLKIEN: TWEEK DOESN'T ACTUALLY LIKE YOU TOLKIEN: THERE'S NO WAY SOMEONE LIKE TWEEK WOULD BE STUPID ENOUGH TO GO AFTER YOU, YOU FUCKING TESTOSTERONE FUELED SHITSTAN

CLYDE: THANK YOU FOR ACKNOWLEDGING I'M TRANS BUT FUCK YOU FOR INSULTING ME

TOLKIEN: YOU’RE VERY WELCOME, FUCK YOU TOO

CLYDE: YOU KNOW WHAT?? I BET YOU 30 BUCKS I CAN PULL IN TWEEK WITH MY MANLY AWESOMENESS

TOLKIEN: I BET YOU A MILLION DOLLARS YOU CAN'T

CLYDE: FINE

TOLKIEN: FINE

CLYDE: LETS FUCKING GO

CLYDE: I'LL ASK OUT TWEEK AND IT'LL BE THE MOST ROMANTIC THING EVER

STAN: Hmmm

STAN: At my barn we could like

STAN: Use my dad and my sister

STAN: As like

STAN: Food

KYLE: Dude no

KYLE: I am not resorting to cannibalism

CARTMAN: Kahl, you’ve eaten animals, that's basically like eating people

KYLE: Okay mr “forty big macs in one day”

CARTMAN: Uhm, actually they're vegan chicken patties KYLE

CARTMAN: ALSO did you just ASSUME my GENDER????

CARTMAN: YOU ARE GETTING C A N C E L L E D

CARTMAN: I WANT A TEAR RIDDEN UKELELE FILLED APOLOGY RIGHT NOW

KYLE: Oh my GODDDDD

KENNY: Actually studies show that most human meat is similar taste wise to chicken

CRAIG: I thought it was pork

CRAIG: Like

CRAIG: Deadass

CRAIG: Like pigs

CRAIG: Like deadass pigs

KENNY: We know what pork is CRAIG 

STAN: Yeah

STAN: So we’re fucking set

CARTMAN: Uhhh no thanks, i’d rather be one with the animals and eat dirt and hay

STAN: We don't even have animals

CARTMAN: I’ll just eat the weed then

STAN: What

KENNY: What

KYLE: What

CRAIG: LMAOOOOOOO IM DEADDDDDDD 💀 💀 💀 

CARTMAN: What???

CARTMAN: It's like eating catnip

CARTMAN: Besides its environmentally friendly

STAN: What's your source

CARTMAN: Wikipedia

STAN: Ooooof course it is

STAN: The internets lying to you, you know

CARTMAN: Fuck off, Stan, Queermo

STAN: IM TELLING THE TRUTH HERE

TWEEK: HhhhuGiyhvfdeiohjd

TWEEK: OKay

TWEEK: Cool

TWEEK: We’re set on a TOTALLY ANONYMOUS LOCATION

TWEEK: Awesome

TWEEK: Great

TWEEK: Dandy even!

TWEEK: Everyone

TWEEK: Lets hold hands

CRAIG: I am not touching Clydes fucking shitstained hands

TWEEK: Fine

TWEEK: I’ll hold Clyde's hand

TOLKIEN: Why do you wanna touch Clydes hands thats fucking nasty

CRAIG: For real

CRAIG: Preach 🙏🙏🙏

TWEEK: I don't care

TWEEK: It's just for a bit TWEEK: I can wash my own hands afterwards

CRAIG: EWWWW FAGS

CLYDE: Aww… really?? :D

TWEEK: Fine

TWEEK: Sure

TWEEK: Whatever

CLYDE: Nobody other than Tolkien has wanted to hold my hand before! :DD

TOLKIEN: Was that before or after I figured out you don't wash your hands

TWEEK: Who else is fine with

TWEEK: Touching Clyde

CRAIG: Stop making me have gay thoughts, Playboi Carti

TWEEK: What

TWEEK: I don't

TWEEK: I'm not

TWEEK: Just

TWEEK: Hold hands

TWEEK: You all have socks on

TWEEK: I think

TWEEK: So it's not gay

CARTMAN: Uhm erm erm erm

CARTMAN: Actually

CARTMAN: That's a homophobic statement

TWEEK: CRAIG SAID A FUCKING SLUR?????????

TWEEK: WHAT???????

TWEEK: IM TWEEK: HUH TWEEK: WHAT TWEEK: OKAY

TWEEK: JUST TWEEK: JUST HOLD HANDS TWEEK: STOP MAKING THIS HARDER FOR ME

CLYDE: Wow

CLYDE: I forgot CLYDE: What holding hands felt like

KYLE: Woah

KYLE: This reminds me of the first episode of My Little Pony

KYLE: Where

KYLE: Twilight and her friends

KYLE: Find the friendship trinkets or whatever

KYLE: And they reverse the curse on them that turns them into stone

KYLE: And they used them to like

KYLE: Defeat Nightmare Moon

KYLE: Turning her back into Princess Luna

KENNY: That was so fucking gay

KENNY: I feel like I'm gonna vomit rainbows because of you

CARTMAN: Kenny stop being homophobic

CARTMAN: I will cancel you again

KENNY: Fuck off I know that blue hair you wear online is a wig

CARTMAN: BITCH-

TWEEK: SHUT UP

TWEEK: ALL OF YOU TWEEK: MY SATAN

TWEEK: CAN YOU ALL GO LIKE TWEEK: TWO MINUTES WITHOUT FIGHTING AND OR DEGRADING EACH OTHER

KENNY: ….

CARTMAN: …. KYLE: …..

LITERALLY EVERYONE: …..

CRAIG: Slllaaa-

TOLKIEN: Dont

TOLKIEN: Just

TOLKIEN: Do not

TOLKIEN: Actually, you’ve lost speaking privileges

CRAIG: 😡

TWEEK: Alright

TWEEK: Is

TWEEK: Is everyone holding hands

CRAIG: yeah its like Kumbaya frfr

TOLKIEN: Stop talking

TWEEK: Okay

TWEEK: Alakazam

TWEEK: Alakazane

TWEEK: Im sending you off this mortal plane

KYLE: Wait wha-

CRAIG: Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe! Like And Subscribe!

KENNY: Yoooo

CRAIG: Like and Share! Like and Share! Like and Share!

TOLKIEN: Haaaaa

TOLKIEN: What

TOLKIEN: Was that

TWEEK: Magic Trick

TOLKIEN: What

TWEEK: Hey you have a lot of free time when you live in a dumpster

CRAIG: Copy link! Copy link! Copy link! Copy link! Copy link! Copy link!

TOLKIEN: Whatever, please for the sake of our brain cells, never do that again

KENNY: I dunno

KENNY: I thought that was pretty cool

CRAIG: Kombucha? I LLLOOOVVVEEE KOMBUCHA! Kombucha? I LOVE KOMBUCHA Kombucha? I LOVE KOMBUCHA Kombucha? I LOVE KOMBUCHA

TWEEK: Alright

TWEEK: Humans

TWEEK: Freaks

TWEEK: Whatever your names are

TWEEK: Get in the fucking barn

TWEEK: Now, quoting the safety psas from Estella,

TWEEK: Don't open the door for strangers, Don’t investigate any random noises, don't take any offers from strange men in white vans, don't help anyone, if anyone says they're friends of your parents do not trust them

TWEEK: And for goodness sake,

TWEEK: USE THE BUDDY SYSTEM

CRAIG: I'm addicted to Takis! I'm addicted to Takis! I'm addicted to Takis! I'm addicted to Takis!

STAN: One, what are we, five?

STAN: Second

STAN: It's a backup bunker, not  a barn

TWEEK: WHATEVER! JUST- GET IN

TWEEK: DO YOU WANNA LIVE OR NOT????

STAN: No

TWEEK: …

STAN: …

TWEEK: ….

STAN: ….

TWEEK: ….

TWEEK: O….

TWEEK: Kay…..

TWEEK: Just…..

TWEEK: Get in the barn

STAN: Fineeeee

STAN: Whatever

STAN: Fuck you

CRAIG: [ Gotta sleep in fucking pig shit this sucks fuck this ]

CLYDE: Hey

CLYDE: Hey CLYDE: Hey Tweek

TWEEK: Arrrghhh…What….

CLYDE: Do

CLYDE: Do you

CLYDE: Do you think

CLYDE: Do you think we CLYDE: Do you

CLYDE: Do you think we could

CLYDE: Maybe

CLYDE: Like

CLYDE: Go to like

CLYDE: Dennys

CLYDE: After this???

TWEEK: Whats

TWEEK: What's Dennys?

CLYDE: Oh

CLYDE: Uh

CLYDE: Maybe we could like

CLYDE: Go to Olive Garden then?

TWEEK: What

TWEEK: What's an olive?

TWEEK: And

TWEEK: And what's a Garden?

CLYDE: …

CLYDE: Oh you poor

CLYDE: Sweet

CLYDE: Summer child

CLYDE: You know what

CLYDE: I'm gonna take you to the Olive Garden

CLYDE: And you're gonna have the time of your fucking life

TWEEK: Uh

TWEEK: O

TWEEK: OKAY?????

CLYDE: Alright

CLYDE: I’ll see you there babe

TWEEK: Uh

TWEEK: UHHH

TWEEK: WHAT

TWEEK: DID YOU JUST CALL ME BABE TWEEK: WHAT???

TOLKIEN: Don’t fall for that shit

TOLKIEN: He doesn't wash his hands

TOLKIEN: Or his ass

TWEEK: Why's that relevant?

TOLKIEN: IT'S FUCKING DISGUSTING?????

TWEEK: CHILL OUT IT'S NOT THAT BAD

TOLKIEN: YES IT IS??????

TWEEK: …Whatevs

TOLKIEN: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS????

(edits made by @pissblanket)

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

My Kinktober requests are officially open!

Accepted Fandoms:

You can request from the following fandoms (or any specific characters within them):

Criminal Minds

The Last of Us

Gladiator 2

Slashers (Please note: I'll be writing for general character archetypes, like Ghostface, rather than specific versions from particular films)

Pedro Pascal (Any of his characters are welcome)

Måneskin

How to Request:

Simply send an ask to my inbox under Ask Away and include the details of what you’d like to see!

What Can You Request?

Smut is preferred, but I’m open to anything—whether it’s fluff, angst, or something darker. I only write F/M or F/F pairings, but threesomes or group scenarios are allowed. However, I won’t write explicit M/M content.

Important Note: I don’t write for things that aren’t human (like werewolves in full wolf form) or include body fluids such as piss or poop.

Feel free to include one or more of the following emojis in your request to indicate specific themes or tones you'd like to see:

🕊️ Dead Dove/Do Not Eat (Dark Level A Million): We’re going all-in—non-con, murder, gore, and the messiest, most explicit stuff you can imagine. This one’s not for the faint of heart.

🖤 Dark Level 1: Just a sprinkle of fear. Maybe they’re dressing up as Jason Voorhees, and you’re getting down and dirty while there’s a knife on the table.

😈 Dark Level 2: Dub-con vibes—someone’s asleep, someone’s stalking, and there’s some serious setup behind the scenes. It’s edgy, but it’s hot.

⛓️ Chains: It’s all about bondage and toys. You’re tied up, maybe gagged, and they’re playing with all the good stuff.

😡 Meanie: You’re gonna hear it—degradation at its finest. You’ll be told exactly what a mess you are, and you’ll like it.

💕 Softly: They’re whispering sweet nothings while tearing you apart—praise is thrown in there, soft and sexy, to keep things warm.

🩹 Bandaid: All the rough stuff, but they’ll patch you up after. You’re getting the aftercare you deserve.

🎥 Film: There’s a camera rolling, or maybe it’s mirrors all around. Either way, you’re watching, and they’re putting on a show.

🕸️ Spiderweb: You’re caught in their trap, and there’s no getting out. Power plays, manipulation, the works—you’re stuck, and it’s thrilling.

🎃 Pumpkin Spice: Sweet with just the right amount of spice. It’s cozy, but you know it’s going to get hotter with all that teasing.

💀 Skull & Bones: You want rough? You’ll get rough. It’s primal, dirty, and no one’s holding back. Think teeth, nails, and animal instincts.

🌕 Full Moon: Full-on beast mode. They’re losing control, and you’re gonna feel every bit of that wild energy—think wolves in heat.

🩸 Blood Drops: Blood play, baby. It’s messy, it’s hot, and the sight of red just makes it all the more intense.

🔪 Blade's Edge: Life or death, baby. Whether there’s a real threat or just the feeling of one, it’s dangerous, thrilling, and sharp as a knife.

Note: All requests will be drabbles unless I feel they deserve more depth, in which case they may be expanded. These will be released alongside my other Kinktober posts, with the exact release dates to be determined.

Send your requests and get ready for some spooky, steamy fun! (Follow the tag #🍿sinfulkinktober to follow along with all kinktober updates and fics)

{@multiversed-daydreamer @gothcsz I told you guys something was coming 😘 yes there's more....}

[katyspersonal]

@izunias-meme-hole YOU WILL BE A CHARRED CORPSE IN THIS SITUATION IF YOU DON'T STOP

[mikeology]

Um, hi! Ok, this is kind of a long ask so feel free to answer it in my inbox, but your little drawing of 1970s peter gabriel as a porcelain doll has deeply inspired me to write a fanfic (based on The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane by Kate DiCamillo, the short film The Forgotten Toys, and a little bit on The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams) about him getting turned into a doll by a witch because he's not respecting his bandmates or something and to get turned back into a human he needs to be recognized by them (they don't know it's him at first so they leave him at a consignment shop and it's a whole adventure from there to get back to them with the help of some other toys that look and act suspiciously like his bandmates). I do have some logistical questions that I need to know before I start writing, and I know you might not have thought as in depth about this as I have, but I just figured I should ask:

how tall is doll!peter?

do you have a drawing of doll!peter standing up so I can get a better look at his dress pattern?

does he have rooted hair or a glued-on wig? (I noticed he still had that bald patch as a doll, nice touch)

are his joints stiff or articulated?

does he have individual fingers, or just mitten hands?

is his whole body porcelain, or just his limbs and head?

Thanks for answering my questions! Hope you have a great day, and I hope I can have something to show you soon if you'd like.

hi i’m just about to go to bed and my sense of using words coherently is going downhill so sorry if this reply is badly done……please please please feel free to ask me to clarify if needed

first of all holy moly i never in a million years would’ve thought someone would’ve felt the need to write a fic about a little guy in my sketchbook. image of me⬇️ it means a lot

the premise of it sounds positively effervescent and i’m very excited to read it when you get round to it

to be honest i have barely thought anything through as it was a goofy art prompt my friend gave me offhandedly while we were watching a movie and i know jack shit about dolls but if i were to follow my heart i think

20cm tall

🧍

3. rooted

4. stiff

5. individual fingers, i just don’t like drawing hands skull emoji

6. limbs and head? i think he’d be soft in the middle

side note i have been working on a little doll project of my own over the course of the past few days. not at all close to finishing but i have five tapeworms

keep me posted and feel free to ask more dollpeter questions if need be…club bed ft dj pillow and mc blanky are calling…

[atotalpitch]

in line w your post about Insta caption; your headcanon about how each Bella uses emoji, what they post on social media and how they'd caption everything?

word count is 1,5k for this one who's surprised??? you genuinely cannot send me an ask and not get answer longer than the fics that i write sigh i kind of went off the rails a bit and forgot about the “how they’d caption everything” part of the question, but here’s a detailed rant of how each of them texts and uses social media:

Chloe: where do i even begin? i feel like she has auto-caps on and uses a shit ton of emojis, but for their actual purpose instead of ironically. she does not send a single text without At Least two hearts, and is definitely not a dry texter by any means. also, according to everyone she has ever been in contact with, she has a habit of sending ten texts in a row instead of just writing everything into one message, which is denied within four seconds of it being brought up. (“but it’s easier to read separate, short messages!” “it’s just how i would talk in real life, you know!”) she has two accounts on instagram, one which is public and one which is private. on the public one she posts aesthetically and has a theme which she strictly follows. the posts are mostly about cute animals she takes care of, or major events. private on the other hand? it basically contains her Entire life – all ups and downs included – and a shit ton of random pictures of Beca. it’s only followed by the Bellas and some of her closest family. twitter, facebook and tiktok (which she would never admit to having) are on a different level. what that implies is very much up for interpretation. she’s one of those pinterest users, and has a board for Everything. has regular meetups with Aubrey when they just gush over their pinterest feeds, dream weddings, etc. (whatever it is that those people do idk)

Aubrey: perfect grammar and punctuation, one emoji per message. a facebook mom, if you will. she gets teased for it endlessly but her response is always something like “why would i use texting for anything other than it’s purpose of informing others?”

if you bring up social media in her presence, she will scowl at you and let you believe that she absolutely despises every form of online contacting. however, she will go back home and sit on Her Armchair with a glass of fucking expensive red wine and go through every single one of your social media accounts from tumblr to linkedin (stalker much?). not that she posts anywhere, except for twitter where she just lets hell loose every once in a blue moon. she does have an instagram account as well though, but just for liking other peoples posts as she claims if someone happens to ask (despite her story always having at least twenty random pictures at any given time of the day)

Amy: … she’s, well, Amy. she texts with full caps or no caps, always with at least five typos even if it’s just two words. it’s Something, how she manages to do that every single time. she’s a tiktok emoji trend user (eg. skull for laughing) which confuses others (read: Aubrey, who isn’t on tiktok) a lot.

her social media is full of memes, random selfies, “inspirational” quotes that are more or less insane, and pictures of food. she, for some reason, went viral on tiktok and has like two million followers. (nobody knows why, which is probably for the better.) on twitter, she mostly just retweets crazy shit and thirsts over celebrities Very openly. then there’s reddit… yeah,, there’s reddit. she doesn’t really use other socials, but does have accounts literally everywhere.

Stacie: as i said in the post that inspired this ask, she texts like Alexis (her actress) writes her instagram captions. so basically just a lot of dragged out words, a bunch of emojis and abbreviations and that stuff. i don’t know to describe it, so. take that as you will. im not sure how many of you follow her anyway .

our girl is for sure, without a doubt, a tiktok thirst trapper. she does it unintentionally at first, but when she goes viral she starts doing it for fun (almost like a hobby). her comments used to be flooded by creepy men, but once she put the bi flag in her bio they seemingly disappeared and were replaced by the army of “#wlw? we won” people. Aubrey’s not too happy about her posting herself like that, but she thinks it’s whatever as long as Stacie runs every video through her (not in a controlling way. she’s just also one of those lesbians who drool over her.) Stacie’s instagram is also kinda similar, but with pictures instead of videos. they’re subtle and barely revealing for the most part, but she looks good in literally anything so she has a lot of followers anyway. that’s where her social media use ends, save for the private twitter account that she uses to bully the rest of the Bellas.

Beca: she texts in all lowercase, but decent grammar anyways. she’s not exactly big on emojis, but slips them in every few messages (she’s a chronic frowning emoji user, that’s for sure). i don’t know how else to describe her texting?? she usually doesn’t even reply with other than half a sentence or a barely coherent abbreviation

she’s famous, so her socials are mostly “official” and really, Really lack personality. naturally, she has private accounts which her closest circle of people follow. she doesn’t post though, mainly just replies to other people. (well, maybe she accidentally clicks post on random memes sometimes, but you really don’t need to know that.) Batshit Crazy Reddit User™ and will use it as a reliable source for anything. you can also find her at 3am doomscrolling on twitter.

Emily: oh god. she texts like she just got a phone and is generally as awkward as when talking. kinda like Chloe, she’ll send a thousand texts in a row in the same way she stumbles over her words irl. she spams people with only emojis, and doesn’t Make Sense most of the time. but she’s Emily, so they let it slide.

she’s not that big on social media (follower wise) but active? hell yes. she posts something every. single. day. whether its a mirror selfie or a cute flower she saw on her way to yoga (she does yoga. yeah. i know. crazy.) you can pretty much imagine Hailee’s insta up until like 2020 but double the amount of posts. there’s never too much filters or hashtags for her, and she unfortunately did not grow out of the 2013(-ish) filter phase. she unironically uses facebook and watches instagram reels, and nobody bats an eye anymore when she giggles and sends a link to a puppy video from the deep dark archives of facebook. any other form of social media she stays away from, especially twitter (she has an account but zero posts or replies). she does learn pinterest from Chloe at some point, so that becomes a big thing for her eventually though.

Cynthia Rose: she texts in the closest way to normal possible. she uses auto-caps, a decent amount of emojis that actually make sense, and abbreviations that everyone can understand. but she does have a middle-aged man edge to it sometimes. she’s an influencer. not that kind of “grwm to go shopping” one, but she fights for rights, talks about representation, and brings out the voices of minorities. she runs campaigns, interviews people, and activist type of stuff. it’s a good thing and she’s happy about what she does (even if she does spend all day everyday working for it despite doing it for free). but, sticking to the running theme, she has a private twitter account. her header is a lesbian quote with two pairs of scissors, and her posts are just plain Insane. she mostly uses it to bully Beca for literally no reason at all. 

Flo: texts like a wine aunt. that’s it. there’s no other way i can describe it.

she has an instagram for her juice truck, and it has a bunch of followers all around the world who are interested in watching her move from one place to another. she also posts tutorials how to make her juices at home (especially during the pandemic), and she’s basically sponsored by a million companies just because she gave them recipes lol. on her personal account, she’s also kind of an influencer too. she mostly posts about fashion and food, maybe sometimes stray cats that walk up to her on the streets when she’s going around with her truck. she’s not really famous famous, but has like 30k followers. i feel like i’m just gonna say the same for them all, but she also has a priv twitter account for the sole purpose of including herself in the crazy ass threads where all of the other Bellas are just, going mental. she’s also a pinterest / aesthetic moodboard tumblr girly methinks. 

Lilly: you can only imagine how she texts, if she even does. ominous as fuck. i’m leaving it at that because shes just so,,,,,, well you know.

she doesn’t use social media as far as anyone knows, and she barely has a working phone number. but if we are being real, does anyone really know anything about her anyway???

Ashley + Jessica: i have zero idea??? it’s hard to give personalities to characters whose names are barely confirmed. but i’m guessing they’re the most “normal” out of them all. you know, casual texting and barely posting anywhere. it’s odd. but they are still bellas and we love them. 

[lichfucker]

BRAIN DAMAGE IN D MINOR?

lmaoooooo "brain damage in d minor" is a placeholder title and I live in fear every day that it's going to stick. the only other thing I call it in my own notes is "music and lyrics au" so unless something better appears I'm afraid brain damage in d minor will end up the actual title

a million years ago the sunder server watched music and lyrics (2007) for movie night, which is my favorite rom-com of all time, and I. could not stop thinking about how well the conceit works as a silverflint au. because I am the one with brain damage (in d minor)

it's likely the only bs modern au I'll ever write bc in general I find the canon time period far more compelling, but I digress. flint is a washed-up has-been-- he was in a boyband with thomas and peter ashe in the early '00s but it's been twenty years and his career is dead. suddenly he gets a call from gates, his manager, saying, "charles vane just left his band to get out of a contract with guthrie records and he wants to kick off his new solo venture by singing a duet with you, so you need to write a new song. okay bye"

the problem is that flint is a terrible lyricist. sure he could come up with a pretty metaphor, but he can't write things that are Relatable, and pop music is all about being Vague and Relatable. help, of course, comes from the least likely of places: john silver, a guy flint hires to water his plants, just so happens to be an excellent songwriter.

yes, this is extremely contrived. yes, it is following the plot of the movie to a tee (except, y'know, set in 2023 instead of in 2007).

a meet-cute for your perusal:

The buzzer rings, piercing through the rhythmic discordant chime of Flint repeatedly bashing his head onto the keys of the piano. Great. That’ll be Idelle in to water the plants, and he can either stay in the living room composing Brain Damage in D Minor while she does, or he can spare himself the humiliation and retreat into the privacy of his bedroom. Perhaps he’ll run a bath and drown himself in the lavish tub.

A sigh hauls itself out of Flint’s chest with all the effort of the tow truck that time in ’04 when the tour bus got impounded, and it takes similar heft for him to stand up from the piano bench and answer the door.

Flint registers long black hair before anything else, and his skull is so thick with cement that he nearly turns heel and stalks off to his room without so much as a grunt in hello—but he stops.

“You’re not Idelle,” Flint says.

A very astute observation: the person in the doorway has bluer eyes, tanner skin, and a significantly fuller beard.

The man’s gleaming smile falters. “No,” he says. “Sorry, did she not text you? I’m taking over for a few weeks while she’s away. Can I come in, or are all your plants out in the hall?”

Flint blinks. Considering the man looks like he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in his entire life, Flint hadn’t expected his voice to be so… smooth. Nor so English, not in Manhattan. Before Flint lets this stranger into his (admittedly, very thieve-able) apartment, though, he looks through his phone and—oh. Idelle had texted. Three times over the last two weeks. He’d even given her a thumbs-up emoji. Well, all right, then. He steps aside to let the man through.

“Thanks,” the man says, his bright smile back and full of teeth. “I’m John, by the way. John Silver.”

“James McGraw.”

Silver drops his messenger bag on the coffee table beside the chaise, looking around with cataloguing eyes at the veritable garden lined up along the floor-to-ceiling windows, the crystalline chandelier hanging over the dining table, the glossy baby grand on the shag carpet, the unmasked luxury in which Flint lives. “Watering can?” he asks.

“Under the sink,” Flint says, pointing him toward the kitchen. He waits a few beats and then follows, trying to keep a wary eye on Silver while appearing casual rather than paranoid. He leans coolly against the kitchen island just as Silver finishes filling the watering can. “So, Joe—”

“John,” he says, not unkindly. “Most of my friends just call me Silver, but I’d rather you call me John. No offense. Less personal, you know?”

“Using your given name is less personal than your surname?”

He gives Flint a pointed look. “I can be one of eight hundred Johns you’ve ever met, or I can be one of half a dozen Silvers, if even that many. Maybe we’ll be friends someday and you can call me whatever you like, but for now I’ll take John, thanks.”

Flint just barely suppresses a grin. “Fair enough,” he says. “Where are you from?”

Silver—John hesitates, and then he says, “London. And you?”

“Cornwall.”

“Really? You don’t sound it.”

“I trained myself out of it, a long time ago.” Flint watches John tend to the orchid on the counter, careful not to over-water it; he’s gentle and methodical with it, which isn’t what Flint had expected. He’s not sure what he expected, in truth. “So,” Flint says, “you’re a friend of Idelle’s? Where is she, anyway?”

The question earns him an indignant snort. “Idelle is in the Bahamas getting married, and I,” John says, crossing the living room to the ficus by the window, “got the great honor of not being fucking invited. She tried telling me it’s because they wanted to keep the guest list small, but I know that’s a damned lie. She invited Muldoon, of all fucking people. Logan I understand, because he and Charlotte are attached at the fucking hip, but Muldoon?” John scoffs. “No, it’s because Augie—her husband—never liked me, not that I have any idea why. Truth be told, I think Idelle herself only tolerates me because she’s close with my sister, and she knows not to say a bad word about me to Max if she intends to say any words for the rest of her life.”

He keeps talking as he progresses down the row of plants. “I told Max to bring me as her plus-one just to piss them all off, you know, but she’d already committed to taking her girlfriend, and, honestly, that’s comeuppance enough. I am far more fun at weddings than Anne is. Luckily for you, I’m also a far better plant-sitter, so—Fuck!”

John hisses in pain and turns around to face Flint, sucking on the pad of his thumb. “Fucking cactus,” he mumbles around the thumb in his mouth. The two of them stand there, twenty feet apart, for an odd moment, the air thick with… something. John narrows his startlingly blue eyes, scrutinizing Flint. Flint hasn’t a clue what he might be looking for. His lips work at his thumb all the while.

And then John’s thumb leaves his mouth with an obscene smack, the sound so loud in the dense silence that had befallen them, and he says, “You look really familiar. Are you famous or something?”

[panpanpanini]

local artist who has been drawing for most of her life finally discovers how artists quickly color their lineart [20 million skull emojis]