#look! lazy is making a big dramatic post again

[aamy2100982]

VENOM WAR #5 Just some of my thoughts, big Spoiler Alert for those who haven't read it yet

I actually read it yesterday the 27th, but decided to post today because I needed to think a bit. Not my favorite Venom comic by far.

☆ So finally we have desidated piss-colored Venom, wohooo *low tone

I still think the design is mediocre. But at least I have a better answer as to why it's yellow. Also, I'm glad the first host to try it was Dylan. I was afraid they introduced the new host too quickly, because I've already felt like these last few comics are jumping from point to point like a machine gun.

☆ This whole panel is so sad

Dylan not wanting to hurt his father and Symby not wanting to hurt their lover.

It hurts my heart Symby admitting that they loves Eddie in all his forms even in Meridius one.

Even worse Meridius mocking xd

☆

Just say you hate yourself, dude. it's easier

☆ Can my man take a break? For ONCE?

He got shot, his son stab him, and now he stab himself. Who's left to stab Eddie? Flash? Sleeper? Toxin? Holy crap...

Not even Maridius saved! Anyway he's dead now, I was expecting something more dramatic, but whatever, man, okay I guess.

At least the panel looks cool. Dylan always taking his enemies by surprise, never turn your back on him.

☆ And Lee is there

I have to look up again what his deal was in all this, because I don't remember if he's alive or dead.

Now that the symbiotes are dying is he going to die too? Or is he finally going to do something interesting after all this time?

I've always felt that they wasted Lee's potential and could do something interesting with him. So I hope he doesn't just die... again...

☆ At least Flash is okay now. At this point I'm wondering if Anti Venom has a conscience or is just a permanent part of Flash. Also technically part of Eddie... gay.

I hate how cute Sleeper looks, it's not like you just witnessed the death of two gods, nah. Now you can go back to loaf like a lazy cat.

I find Toxin's face funny :|

☆ Goodbye old Dylan :(

you did well, i'm going to miss you

I don't think many people really liked him that much, and he was actually a bit of a confusing character at times, but I loved his design.

A little in disbelief that this is the end for him. I'd like to assume there's a little more.

☆ But good things don't last. I guess the symbiote is toxic for Dylan now? Is the symbiote toxic to all the other symbiotes now? If anything, the symbiote thinks it's going to die now and that's why it decided to leave?

I'm just going to put the biggest and louder

SIGH

I can... I knew they weren't going to stay together because Symby is getting a new host now, but damn. Does anyone else feel like the unions feel anti-climactic in this comic? I guess they were just in a bit of a rush to wrap things up.

Which is... understandable. They've been doing this crap for like 3 years now, it was time to let it die. But it makes me so sad that Dylan is alone again

The only good thing I can take away from it is that at least the comics are more self-aware that Symby is Dylan's father.

Which means Dylan is going to try to commit patricide again.

Understandable. My poor baby is 14 years old and has no one to turn to.

His brother I guess (Sleeper), I don't know if Flash could take him under his care, anyway Dylan is almost as stubborn as his father to simply get a tutor and go back to his normal life. Probably and technically, we know that now he is going to dedicate himself to hunting the All New Venom

☆ The fact that the symbiote is now toxic to other symbiotes is just an excuse for it to not rejoin Dylan? Because that sounds like bullshit.

And yes, I GET THE POINT. If Dylan joins the symbiote it creates this apocalyptic future that Old!Dylan is trying to prevent... I know, but it still seems unfair to me.

☆ Funny how all this was happening next to a church. Let's not lose good customs

I wasn't understanding what Carnage meant by "Partner".

I think is referring to Meridius or Cletus. So now they're both single, lonely, and hurt.

(My bad! He doesn't say partner, he says parent! Silly me, sorry xd)

Does this mean Eddie thinks the symbiote is dead?

Nice Father-Son reunion, I'm honestly excited to see what nonsense they're going to do!!

[lazylogic]

TL;DR: I’ve let my online art presence and the internet as a whole become so weighty to me that I’m constantly having a meltdown over how the internet has changed and how I present myself online, so I’m cutting myself off from being an artist on the internet, because it seems like the only healthy option for me right now.

I think I need to stop posting online entirely. As drastic and melodramatic as that sounds, I’m spending time on an internet that I hate, wishing for an internet that no longer exists. I’ve repeatedly ~taken breaks from social media to try and detox~, and it does help in the short term, but eventually I just fall back into my “existential art crisis” and become anxious, stressed, and frustrated again, hating myself and hating every choice I’ve made up to this point. I’m happy when I draw at my own pace, but I’m quickly overwhelmed by the “I’m not posting enough so people won’t like me anymore” anxiety I get.

I know I’m like, the only one who feels this way, the only one who cares this much and takes art this seriously that I’ve let it crush me so much. For some reason my art and my ability to draw is so deeply ingrained in my identity and sense of self, and it’s become so monumentally important to me that it’s worn me down this much. But I know I’m not the only artist online who feels pressure to perform every day, who compares themself to others, who feels burnt out every month, and who is constantly fighting with the evolving technology and society that seems to be consistently designed to screw us. I know many have been able to adapt, and have done it smoothly, and I commend them and am incredibly happy for them. I’m proud to have happy and well-adjusted art peers! I can’t do that. I want to put in the effort to adapt, I have to many ideas to share and stories to tell, but I’m just…spent. Every time I try, it takes up all of my very limited energy, and I’m back to hibernation mode again. I am tired. I’m too small, sensitive and self-conscious to simply keep trucking along. My fragility makes every effort so painful. I really cannot do this anymore.

Posting my art online used to be fun. I loved connecting with people over fan art, OCs, gushing with other artists about each other’s creations, and getting love and support from people who found enjoyment in it. I used to get kind asks on Tumblr just complimenting my art or encouraging me when I posted a vent piece. Tumblr especially used to be my chill place. Most of those people, along with that happy and peaceful environment, are gone now. Old Tumblr is dead, old DeviantArt is gone, I feel detached from FA more than I ever have. Everything feels scattered and divided, and people are so jaded, which I really can’t blame anyone for. No matter where I go, I don’t feel like I belong anywhere anymore, and I don’t really want to be anywhere, either. I feel like I don’t even fit in with my own demographic, no matter what I try. I can’t emphasize enough that I’m trying to post for and enjoy an internet and online community that no longer exists. It’s my own fault for living in the past. Everything is far too fleeting now, engagement is king and constant streams of new content, as well as outrage, equals that. Everyone else seems to be able to change so readily with it, and I’m still stuck figuring things out from five years ago. I can’t seem to recognize or understand anyone anymore, either. I can’t keep up, and I don’t want to try to anymore.

I think what I wanted the most for my art was for it to resonate with people. It’s always been my favorite thing to do for fun, and it always made me so happy knowing my art made someone’s day better, even if it was just Hattie being silly or cute fan art. The idea that I could make someone breathe easier because I drew something soft and comforting is incredibly meaningful to me. But my art was always a powerful emotional outlet for me, too. I know my vent art would often dip into edgy territory, especially in my teenage years, and I withdrew from drawing vent art as a whole because I became too self-aware of it and I felt too exposed. But it was real, and it came from a real place and real emotions, and that’s still important to me. I feel emotions very strongly. I wanted to say something and be understood. And I guess that’s what I still want? To be understood, like anyone else would want, I guess.

I don’t even know what I want out of posting online anymore, or why I bother to check it. Every bit of engagement I get feels more empty than rewarding, and that discrepancy keeps growing. I hate it, because I know it’s because my brain has been trained to want more. I hate that I need more and more validation that people care about me via my art, because it used to be purely mine. And I want so much for it to just be mine again. It’s really felt like I’ve been drawing for everyone else for such a long time, and I guess that’s also my own fault. I feel trapped here. I really don’t enjoy drawing anymore, and I never get the urge to like I used to, and I cannot express how much that absolutely guts me. I always say social media is what ruined it for me, but I know that my participation in social media was my own choice, so I know I actually ruined it for myself.

I have a lot of work to do. I need to just get better as a person, fix my mental health, gain any semblance of self-worth so that I’m not breaking down every week over my value as an artist being synonymous with my value as a person (before you wonder, I am working with mental health professionals regularly now). I know I complain a LOT about the internet and how it’s changed, but I need to make it very clear that I don’t meant to put the blame solely on all of that for my mental state. I recognize that I just have a lot of issues and I make things harder for myself all the time. I’m chronically living in the past and unhappy with the present, and that’s 100% a me problem. This is the only move I can think of that will allow me to actually focus on getting my shit together; removing the option of being an online artist altogether. I can’t cheat and peek at Twitter and slowly make my way back after three weeks. While I’m at it, I will probably stop posting everywhere else too (not that I was really posting much anyway). I don’t want to say I’m leaving forever but I will say that I want no more expectations, I’m not gonna be posting anymore, basically until further notice. I have to figure my shit out for real. I’m not sure if this will even work, it might just make things worse for me. But I’m just at a loss and I feel like I need to do something. I don’t know if my absence from online art posting will cause me to miraculously enjoy drawing again and a year from now I’ll have a massive backlog to show everyone, I’ll be fixed and happy…I don’t know. I just know this isn’t for me, not right now.

I feel guilty doing this, because I have people who have been following me and supporting me for well over a decade, and I think you guys deserve better than this. It’s a big part of my motivation for doing this to begin with - I’m kind of ashamed to show myself to these awesome people every day, I feel like I owe everyone more than just my gratitude, but I haven’t been able to deliver consistent art or content in years. I feel like I'm letting so many people down every day, and ultimately I feel the same about leaving. But I need to get better first. I think about everyone all the time and feel so lucky and so stupid. I know it’s dramatic, but to everyone, thank you, and I’m sorry.

For anybody going, “it’s not that deep,” I’ve heard that plenty. This post isn’t for you.

I’m not completely disappearing from the internet. If you want to get into contact with me, you can add me on Discord at RealaChao#7312. I will still accept commissions privately for now, so just reach out to me (I’ll update my commissions Carrd site if I decide to close them). I won’t necessarily be deleting my accounts, but I will be logging out of everything at least and disabling notifications, so please don’t message me on Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, or anywhere else expecting a reply. You can also email me at plutoeffoart@gmail.com. Lastly, my main focus these days has been my Neocities, so you’re welcome to check that out (though it's largely a draft right now). It’s not going to be an art site, though, at least not only art. It’s gonna be my quiet home.

I also posted this here. Genuinely, thanks for everything.

[koiiiji]

too late

author’s note ; apology for this post (this one gonna be even more angst😈😈)

the bar filled with quiet jazz, the subdued warm light cast long shadows on the red and black walls. you’d almost forgotten why you agreed to be here — until Goo had spun some wild story about needing your help. “it’ll be a small favor,” he’d said, grinning in that easy way that made you drop your guard. “just a few minutes, promise.”

but as you glanced around, you caught sight of someone you hadn’t expected to see. Gitae Kim.

he stood by the bar, lounging as if he owned the place, a drink in one hand and his expression oozing that signature careless confidence. the years hadn’t changed him much, you thought, feeling your chest tighten. he looked a little older, sharper around the edges, but still had that smug, arrogant gleam in his eye.

before you could slip away into the darkness of the bar, Goo spotted you, waving you over with an excited grin. you froze, feeling the air around you thicken as Gitae turned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he recognized you.

“what a surprise!” Goo drawled, giving you both an obnoxious wink. “didn’t know you two knew each other.” after a tense, long and silent pause, Goo quickly melted away, coming up with an excuse that he needs to meet someone else leaving you standing alone with the one person you’d hoped to avoid forever.

Gitae’s lips curled into a smirk. “long time no see, huh?” his tone was smooth, playful, but there was something in his gaze, something that stirred up memories you’d buried deep.

you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “yeah. it’s been a while.”

he tilted his head, eyes roving over you in a way that felt too familiar, too intense. “you look good,” he said, leaning in slightly, the smug amusement in his voice unmissable. “almost like you missed me.”

this bastard. “you’re delusional,” you shot back, hating how shaky your voice sounded, hating even more that he seemed to enjoy it.

“come on.” he shrugged, that lazy smile playing on his lips. “admit it. i bet you missed me, just a little.” his hand brushed against your arm, lingering for just a second too long, as if he wanted to keep you there, right within reach.

you recoiled slightly, a flood of memories hitting you hard — the fights, the bitterness, and the last night you’d seen him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the door crashed open, Gitae storming in well past midnight, his eyes flicking over you with irritation as you stood waiting in the dim light. you’d stayed up, hoping, just hoping he’d actually be home for once, hoping you could talk, but one look at his face told you it wouldn’t be easy.

“you’re still awake?” he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he tossed his jacket on the couch. did he have this leather jacket before? it reeked of blood.

“of course i’m awake,” you snapped, anger and heartbreak mixing in your voice. “you haven’t been home before three a.m. in weeks, Gitae. you’re shutting me out like i don’t even matter to you anymore.”

he laughed, low and humorless, rolling his eyes. “oh, so this is what you were waiting up for? to nag me about my schedule again?” he sneered, voice dripping with contempt. “don’t you have anything better to do?”

“better than worrying about us?” you threw back, your voice rising with frustration. “you used to care about this, about us, but now you’re never here, never talk to me. it’s like… it’s like you’d rather i just disappear.”

“don't speak nonsense” he chuckled, but his gaze cold and unfeeling. “if i wanted to, i wouldn't be here anymore”

after a small pause he add “why do you even make this a big deal? i don’t need you waiting up, checking in on me like i’m a child. i have my own life outside of you, you know.”

“your own life? Gitae, you used to want to be here!” you shot back, your voice rising in frustration. “you used to be a part of this home, part of us. and now… it’s like you’d rather be anywhere else. you’ve shut me out.”

“god, you’re being so dramatic,” he snapped, his voice cutting. “it’s exhausting. every damn day, as if i owe you every second of my time.”

his words hit you like a slap, and something in you broke. “you know what? you’re not even a fraction of the man i thought you were. you’re turning into everything you hate — you’re becoming exactly like your father, and you don’t even see it!”

you knew what you just said. and you knew there would be consequences of this words. Gitae’s expression darkened, and in an instant, he crossed the room, fury in his eyes as he grabbed you, his hand tightening around your throat. “don’t you ever compare me to him,” he hissed, his voice cold, each word dripping with rage.

“then stop acting like him!” you shot back, even as your voice trembled.

for a moment, he just stared at you, fury and something else flickering in his eyes. then he just turning toward the door without a second glance.

you felt a surge of pain, an ache spreading through your throat, but you refused to let him leave, refused to let this end without answers. you staggered to your feet, getting in his way, your voice rising in desperation. “don’t you dare to walk out on me, Gitae! we have to finish this!”

he glared at you, his patience worn thin. “i’m done talking,” he said coldly, his tone laced with finality. when you didn’t move, he scowled and pushed you back, harder than he meant to.

the force sent you stumbling aside, the shock of it sharp as you bumped into nearby chest of drawer and fell to the floor. a blinding pain flaring in your abdomen. a strangled cry escaped you, and you clutched your stomach. tears streamed down your face, but gitae was already gone, the door slamming behind him, leaving you alone in the silence, the empty ache of loss flooding over you.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you snapped back to the present, feeling his eyes on you, a strange glint in his gaze. he leaned in, his voice a low murmur. “you still look at me the same way. bet i’m still the one who gets under your skin, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you said, but it came out weak, unconvincing. his proximity, the warmth of his presence — it was too much, bringing back emotions you’d tried so hard to bury.

“ah, don’t be like that,” he murmured, voice softening as he brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. his touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the memory that lingered between you. “you know i can’t stay away from you.”

you tensed, feeling the weight of his gaze, of everything unsaid between you. did he really think he could just flirt his way back in, like none of it mattered?

he leaned back, folding his arms, eyes roving over you with a slight smirk. “so… what happened to you after i left? did you finally find some boring guy to settle down with?”

the question hung in the air, and suddenly, the ache in your chest returned, sharper this time. your hand drifted to your stomach instinctively, as if trying to soothe a loss he’d never know.

Gitae’s eyes followed the motion, his expression shifting from amusement to confusion. he tilted his head, “wait… don’t tell me you actually…” his voice trailed off, something cold settling in his eyes. “…a kid?”

you shook your head slowly, feeling the weight of everything you hadn’t said pressing down on you. “no,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “it didn’t… last.”

realization dawned on him, his expression faltering as Gitae pieced it together. he turned pale, something almost like regret was on his face. his eyes flicked back to your hand, lingering there as if he could see the invisible scar you carried.

“you…” his voice was barely a whisper, a strange mix of disbelief and something else, something that almost looked like guilt. he swallowed hard, shifting his weight as if the air around him had grown too heavy. “i didn’t know.”

the words hung between you, empty and hollow. of course he hadn’t known. back then he’d walked out without a second thought, leaving you to face it alone, to deal with the loss and the pain in silence.

for once, he was silent, his usual arrogance muted as he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. you could see the faint crack in his facade, the way his jaw tightened, the brief flicker of something like shame in his gaze.

but then, almost as quickly as it had come, Gitae forced a crooked grin, slipping back into that casual arrogance like it was a second skin. “well,” he muttered, grabbing his glass again, “guess we all have our regrets, huh?”

it was a pathetic attempt to cover his own discomfort, and you felt a wave of anger rise in your chest, fierce and unrelenting. he’d always been like this, brushing off everything that didn’t fit his image of himself, refusing to acknowledge the damage he left in his wake.

“yeah,” you replied, voice icy, “but not everyone gets to walk away from them.”

for a moment, his mask faltered, his gaze darkening as he opened his mouth to respond. but no words came. maybe, for once, he was realizing the weight of what he’d done.

“you think you can just act like nothing happened, that it was all just a rough patch?” you said, your voice shaking. “i had to deal with everything alone because of you.”

his mouth opened, but this time, no smug comeback, no deflection. he looked away, the faintest hint of regret in his eyes, like he was grappling with a truth he didn’t want to accept.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured finally, voice barely audible, as if the words were foreign to him. but you could see in his gaze that it wasn’t enough, that he still didn’t understand, not fully.

you shook your head, taking a step back. “it's too late, Gitae. too late for apologies.”

he reached out as if to stop you, his eyes searching yours, maybe looking for something he couldn’t name. but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of another word. turning, you walked away, leaving him alone with the weight of a regret he would never fully admit.

MASTERLIST

[https-milo]

2 ☾ Baking / Satoru Gojo !!

DAY TWO OF FLUFFTOBER!

Summary

- unsurprisingly, he cannot bake... buttt the first years are counting on some desserts!

flufftober masterlist!

The night before Halloween, your boyfriend appeared in your doorway. Your decorations were hung and you were bursting at the seams of excitement for the following day.

"Satoru? It's the middle of the night!" You scolded as you let the white-haired man in. He bore his usual lazy grin and black blindfold. Despite it being almost midnight, he was still in his teacher's uniform.

"Wellllll.... I need your help!" Satoru replied as he swung an arm around your shoulder and brought you to your kitchen.

"Huh? With what? Did you lose your comb again?" You asked in confusion. He didn't reply and instead pulled out his phone, showing you a picture of terribly burnt cookies. At first, you couldn't even tell what they were. It just looked like black ash on a baking tray. "What am I looking at?"

Satoru laughed and pocketed his phone, "Well! I told the first years I'd make them Halloween treats for tomorrow, you know for some enthusiasm. Well, actually, originally it was just going to be for Megumi, but then Yuji heard so Nobara heard too... But anyway! I tried baking cookies and well... that was the result."

You blinked at him, "So you want my help with something you promised?" Satoru nodded. You sighed, "Fine. You're lucky I love you." You placed a chaste kiss on his lips before scurrying around your kitchen to get the stuff you'd need.

"I am pretty lucky about that!" Satoru replied with an obnoxious grin. He sat on the counter like a princess and kicked his feet while you got the ingredients to make sugar cookies and royal icing.

You rolled your eyes as you needed the cookie dough. "You're so lucky you're beautiful." You sighed. Satoru stuck his tongue out at you and snapped a picture of you baking. You knew, within a matter of seconds, it'd be posted to his story with some corny caption. Once the cookies were in the oven, you stood between Satoru's legs and pulled him down for a kiss. "I love you, even when you make me bake cookies for you in the middle of the night."

Satoru's smile widened and he embraced you tightly. "How could you not love me?" You lightly hit his arm in a scolding manner and rolled your eyes. "Kidding, I love you too!"

Finally, the cookies were done and cooled. The royal icing was made and ready to be piped. "Ok, I have some cute designs I found on Pinterest..." You turned your phone to Satoru, who now stood beside you with casual clothes and a pink princess apron on ("I don't want to ruin my outfit! [The outfit was old sweatpants and an old graphic shirt]).

"Those are all so complicated," Satoru complained with a groan.

"And your cursed technique isn't?" You pinched his cheek softly, "How about you do the big main colors and I'll do the details."

Satoru beamed and grabbed a cookie, "Great idea, babe!" He messily started layering the icing before smoothing it out with a knife. You took his cookies and added the details. Soon enough, you had mummies, zombies, and pumpkins tucked neatly in a container, ready to head to the school in the morning.

"Thanks a bunch," Satoru said with a kiss to your cheek. "Wanna go to the school with me tomorrow?"

You shrugged, "Sure. It'd be nice to catch up with Nobara, Yuji, and Megumi." You yawned. "Let's head to bed, yeah?" Satoru nodded and the two of you walked to your room.

"You made these?" Megumi asked Satoru with distaste in his voice as he peered into the container with the cookies. "What'd you do to them?"

"Whattttt!? I'm offended!" Satoru dramatically said, he huffed and stuck out his chest.

"I made them," You swiftly cut in and grabbed the container from Satoru.

Yuji's eyes sparkled and he greedily grabbed one of each cookie type. Nobara smiled and grabbed a mummy, and Megumi nodded while grabbing a zombie. "Thank you, Y/N!" The three chorused. You could barely hear Megumi, but you knew he said it.

"Yeah, thank you, Y/N," Satoru said. He brought you in for a kiss with his hand reaching for the cookies. You scowled and kept the cookies away from him, pushing away from his embrace.

"Nuh-uh, you had 7 on the way here."

"But Y/nnnnn..."

"No, Satoru."

© https-milo. please do not repost, steal, copy, or modify my works!

Thank you so much for reading <3

FLUFFTOBER TAG LIST!

@drxgonspine

[idanceuntilidie]

Can I request a yandere!ceo x male reader please

Ps, I love your writing ♥️

Thank you!

I hope this was to your liking,

I am working on next request and it will be posted tomorrow.

You are sure your boss hates you.

Sighing dramatically you are met with eyes of worried co workers that are looking at you from behind a comically large stack of documents.

You try to smile at them, then your eyes scan the paperwork again.

You will have to stay after work to even get rid of almost half of the documents.

You rub your face sighing dramatically.

It was tiring, you even regret getting this job in the first place.

“Y/n?”

You feel a light tap on your shoulder, you slowly turn around to face the person who disturbed your moment of self reflection.

It was May, your co worker, she smiled apologetically.

“The big guy wants to see you. What on earth have you done this time man?” She laughs quietly, you join her.

May must be one of the nicest people you have ever met.

“Man, my excuse of ‘the dog ate my homework’ didn’t go through?”

“It seems like it”

She looks at your pile, her cherry red lips forming an o shape.

“Don’t even start May I swear to God”

“What? What? I haven’t said anything”

She huffed.

„You better go, or he will kick your ass out.”

You groaned, lazily moving your body out of the uncomfortable chair that you are pretty sure has reflected shape of your because of the amount of time you had to spend to sitting on it. May patted your back as you dragged yourself out of the office.

You really REALLY don’t want to go there.

Finally you got to the black door, only now you noticed how sweaty your hands were when you were about to open the door your boss did it first.

You came almost face to face with him, he was slightly shorter than you.

He looked at you with a scowl.

“I was about to get you, come in.”

You only nodded, following him in and quietly praying you won’t die in there.

You sat in front of him, eyes scanning the environment and coming in contact with plate containing his last name.

Kingston.

Oh right, you are so used to calling him big man you actually forgot his name.

“Sir L/n, I am not satisfied with your work.

You are lazy, you are coming late.”

Ouch, that’s, that’s not true, you might have been late few times but you are working as hard as everyone else.

“I was thinking about firing you actually”

Your heart sank, mouth opening to argue. Nothing came out.

“You are so lucky I like you.”

“I’m- I’m sorry?”

“I like you. I thought I was clear.”

Your face burned. How is he even saying it so bluntly???

You saw him get up and walk to the big window that was behind him.

He motioned you to come. You did, you swear you couldn’t feel your legs. You wobbly walked next to Kingston. Your eyes looked at the city underneath you.

“Please go out with me”

That didn’t sound like a question nor request.

“You don’t have a choice really, I can make your life a living hell y/n. I can ruin your image, make you loose your job. You don’t want that do you?” he smiled at you,

You swallowed weakly, nodding.

“Great, I will pick you up at seven tomorrow.”

He clapped his hands.

“You aren’t getting rid of me, you belong to me now honey.”

[wasyago]

okay don't mind me just gonna ramble for a second haha-

(this was originally going to be under the drawing, but it got too long, and i can't add it in a reblog because both things are on queue, so separate post it is)

i just love how every time i start a drawing im like "well alright, just a quick sketch yea? no color, maybe some gray to white gradient and that's it, okay?". and then i start drawing (and obviously it takes longer than i thought because duh) and i go "okay but- i gotta at least do the flat colors, right? just the flats- maybe even some random colors to not spend too much time on it--". and then. of course. i do the flats, and im pretty happy with the result yeah? looks simple but not too simple, like it has some color some personality to it, but its not over the top so. so, i leave the drawing i go to get some water and start on an actual piece, and when i come back and take a look at what i drew its like, "well. listen. listen-- yeah im still pretty happy with how it looks but, but. it could be a little better, yea?" and then i sit down, put my water down, put my other drawing to the side, and i sit there making this quick sketch look better. "oh i don't like the colors anymore! but its all on one layer now so i can't exactly change them, plus i still like the idea, so maybe some filters? yeaj some filters on top will do!" (and of course its a yellow shade filter, because im original like that and 90% of my drawings don't also have it on). and then i add them filters and i think" well maybe some bounce light now? surely it already looks better with the filter but its kinda flat, and i want to bring *a little bit* of the original color in" so i add the bounce light, but now it looks out of place! shocker! so i decide that surely i can maybe add some grass at the bottom to hide the edge of the drawing a little. and well, alright, grass looks good, but its too dark, brings a lot of attention to it! and i can't exactly make it lighter, so, the logical choice would be to make the characters darker too, bring some contrast into the thing! and lets just do all the values while we're at it, why not! patterns to the horse, make the pants and skin darker, yes yes. and, oh- but now the eyes are lost because there's more dark hues! gotta make a new layer on top and make them eyes a little bit darker, maybe also color the bandana red and not brown so it looks special, hm? oh and! while we're on this top layer, lets also fix up the hair a little, maybe add some blush... oh and the straps of the saddle look weird, gotta fix those too! oh man and not that i look at it-- the head is too big! lets merge all the layers together and start that same thing over again! yes yes make the head a little smaller, yeah looks much better now! oh, better add some fading as well, to make it fit in the background a little, oh and some glow, suuure sure, and some lights in the eyes, and-

(and now that im looking at it, i realize that i somehow didn't save the final version????? like, i did a lot more to the thing, fixed up the saddle and that awkward shade oh his knee, and the grass-- i wont fix it now because NOW im too lazy to do it for some reason, but yeah, a bit unfortunate u_u)

anyways, point being, love art, art is pog, wish i cared a little less about it sometimes, but it also turnes this into this (imagine me pointing at the drawings as i say that, overly dramatic and sounding a little annoyed with myself)

[modelbus]

Tommy, band au, and bassist!

confession: I play acoustic guitar, so I’m not a bassist… I apologize in advance

Pairing: Cc!Tommy x gn!Reader

Band AU - Bassist

“Every day I wait for you to switch to an electric guitar.” You tell Tommy, watching him mess with the strings on his bass guitar. With ten minutes to stage, he was absolutely convinced that something was wrong with the thing.

“Fuck off.” He huffs back, not even looking at you. “Stupid acoustic guitarist.”

“Damn right I am.” You were the band’s acoustic. And electric, if they really needed it. But you were still trying to get Tommy to take that place.

Finally, he lifts his head to shoot you a fierce glare. There’s your bassist. Whenever the band gets in trouble, it’s always him. And whenever the band needs someone to energize the hell out of everyone, it’s also always him.

He’s a fan favorite for a reason, you suppose.

“Your bass is fine.” You finally sigh. “You keep messing with it and you’ll fuck it up.”

“I will not! Cant you hear something’s wrong with it?”

“All I hear is you freaking out.” You reach over to a cup nearby, grabbing a pick to throw at him. He shouts dramatically, pressing a hand to his cheek.

“Oi!”

“Get your ass up and ready. At this rate, you’ll be going on without an instrument.”

And he didn’t need to be told what a mess that’d be. He dropped his bass in the crowd once on accident — that thing was long gone within seconds.

That was also in a crowd half the size of this one.

Honestly, you didn’t know how you got here. Going from playing in garages with your friends to a stage in front of hundreds wasn’t something you ever planned for. You were meant to get a degree, have a stable employment. Not blow up like some rockstar, flabbergasted by the idea of fanfictions about you.

The first merch of the band was some shitty make-your-own tee that was a joke. Tubbo had (very poorly) bleached Tommy’s face onto it. And now you were up to your ears in merch sales, half-convinced you’d run out of things to print a design on. Even now, Tommy has on a graphic t-shirt of your logo.

“You guys ready?” Someone asks, popping their head into Tommy’s changing room. They have a headset on: some tech guy, probably. “On in two!”

You raise your eyebrows at Tommy, who gives a reluctant look at his bass before nodding. “Ready, big man.”

The guy nods, vanishing again.

When Tommy gives his bass another sad look, you groan and reach out for it. “Fine. Hand it the fuck over.”

“I knew you’d cave!” He exclaims, practically throwing the thing at you.

You run your fingers over the strings, plucking at them then twisting the knobs to tune them a bit more. Technically, Tommy is able to do this on his own. The idiot just tends to be a lazy ass, and you were the only one who could tune by ear.

“Here, does the tension feel right?” You ask him, holding it out for him to pluck at the strings.

“This one is—“ The string snaps, making him yelp and you scream.

Oh fuck. Holy shit.

He can’t play if his stupid bass doesn’t have strings.

“Where do you keep your strings?” You shout at him, diving for his bag and emptying it in a pile.

“I don’t fucking know! The side! The side!” He shouts right back at you, trying to untangle the string so you can replace it. You throw wire cutters at him so he can remove it easier, then find the packet of wire.

“Move it, dumbass.” You shoulder him aside, shoving the string through the bridge entry.

There’s not much time, but you’re still careful to align it perfectly. The last thing you need is this thing snapping on stage. Tommy bends it around the tuning post, cutting the excess wire.

You keep the string aligned, twisting the tuning post to tighten the string as you need. Once it’s good and on, you switch to making sure the thing is actually in tune.

“Did you get it?” Tommy asks, hovering over you. “Is it fixed?”

“You better fucking hope so!” You exclaim, scrambling up. “Shit, how much time do we have?”

The same tech person from before opens the door, looking worried. “Guys, you’re meant to be on now, the rest of the band is—“

You and Tommy don’t stick around to hear the rest. Tommy shoves past the poor tech guy, bass in hand, sprinting for the stage. You’re right behind him, your acoustic getting slung hastily over your back with the strap.

“Sorry guys, two of our members seem to have disappeared.” You can hear Tubbo saying, sounding confused. “Um…”

“We’re here!” Tommy screams, almost tripping over the stage stairs and hurtling into the view of the audience. You take the stairs a bit more gracefully, trailing behind him with an awkward wave to the crowd.

“Oops?”

Their screams of excitement answer you. Tommy turns, craning his neck to grin at you.

“Made it.”

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 12

AO3

Master list (too lazy to post all the links LMAO, im gonna make a proper master post at some point lol)

Thanks to @micropoe10 and @tragedybunny for giving this a once over to make sure it flows well.

Also as always thanks to @cheesy-cryptid for allowing me to use their art as inspiration for this :3

12. Clean

The closer the time got the more she was second guessing herself. Octavia kept battling in her mind over and over again. She had to tell him at some point. 

He's not dumb. He will find out. You have to say something. What if he doesn't want to be with you? You have to say something. What if he's just a fame chaser like the last guy? 

Octavia paces her front room. He's supposed to be here already. She stares at the clock against the wall, it was around 7 in the evening. They hadn't agreed on a time, Astarion just said dusk. He already knew where she lived so what's taking him so long? 

It's her, it's definitely her. He'll come by, he has to. 

Right? 

She plays with the hair hanging off her shoulder, why is she so nervous? It was only dinner. Alone. In her house. She needs wine. Her hands tremble slightly as she opens the bottle on the table.

The cork fumbles out of her hand and falls to the floor. She sighs and pours out a glass for herself. Why was she so nervous? It's not like they've never been alone in the same room. 

She peers back at the clock, 2 minutes have passed. 

She takes a big swig of the glass. Her eyes close and she exhales all the air in her lungs. No amount of alcohol can ease the turbulence ripping through her belly. She sits at the table, running her finger along the rim of the glass.

The food she made was barely enough for her, let alone for two. Astarion assured her that he didn't need much, but she couldn't help but feel slightly off about it. 

She gets up and paces the room some more. There's candles on the table in front of her fireplace, she walks over and lights some. Sitting on the couch behind her, she throws her head back, places a pillow on her face, and screams into it. 

The room feels so huge when she takes the pillow off her face and stares at the fireplace. There's no reason to be nervous.

Of course there isn't, he likes me…right?

She was only going to tell her boyfriend- was he her boyfriend? 

They never really established that.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Octavia downed the rest of the wine in her glass and quickly walked towards the sound. She takes a second to look in the mirror and fix her face. 

Breathe , you can do this. 

She opens the door and greets Astarion. "Took you long enough, I've been waiting out here all by myself." He pouts dramatically and smiles. "I'm not going to have to stand out here anymore, right?" 

Octavia shakes her head and steps aside, Astarion stares at her with a cocked eyebrow and clears his throat. "Really? I have to make it all proper and invite you in?" She laughs as he playfully shrugs, in a sarcastic sweeping flourish she bows and extends her arm "Astarion, please come into my home won't you?"

His grin takes over his whole face, he walks inside as Octavia closes the door behind him. "Quite the invitation, darling. I admire the theatrics." 

He looks around her flat, the quaint furnishings and decorations are cute. She has a small couch with two fluffy cushions and a blanket. The coffee table in between her and the lit fireplace has a few books on it. There's a vase of yellow flowers on the fireplace mantle, the warmth of her home felt comfortable and familiar. 

“Cute little place you got here. I like it better than your back garden, feels more like you.” Astarion smiles at Octavia, she feels her face flush and she clears her throat, turning her head toward the candlelit table. 

"Are you hungry? I made some food. I know you said you don't eat much..but…" she shrugs and flops down on the couch and sighs, "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous to have you here. Inside my house. Alone." She laughs awkwardly. 

He sits beside her, and holds her hand, easing her tension. "It's fine. I won't bite. Unless you ask me to." He chuckles darkly, Octavia laughs along, the first clue lost to her. "Here, let me give you a little gift." He reaches into a worn leather bag he carried over his shoulder. Within a few moments he takes the old book out.

As he hands it to her, their fingers touch. Octavia lingers on his hand, wanting to feel his hand on hers. "Thank you. I know you probably would rather I keep it in the museum but I do think I'll be able to get this done quicker here."

Astarion pulls the book back towards him, breaking their contact. "We just can't let Gale know. Can't have him get mad at me you know?" He ends with a wink, placing the book on her coffee table. 

He turns his head towards her dining room table. The candles she lit are half burned. Whatever she prepared sits covered in the middle. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I appreciate it, though.” She blushes, feeling as if she did something wrong. “I'm sorry, I know you said you didn't need it, but I'm so used to doing this for people I care about. I wanted to do it for you too.”

Astarion smiles and takes her hand, leading her to the table. “Well I certainly can't let your hard work go unappreciated, can I? Shall we then, my sweet?” 

He slides a chair open for her and motions her to sit down. Octavia laughs softly and sits. “Thank you, how chivalrous of you.” He pushes the chair in and takes a seat across from her. “Just doing what I can to show my gratitude, dearest. So what's on the menu?”

Octavia clears her throat and waves her left hand around. A transparent purple hand appears in front of her. With a flick of her wrist, the hand takes the coverings on the plates off and reveals two perfectly set small portions of sauteed fish with mushrooms, rosemary, and green beans. It had a red drizzle on it, and yet another familiar scent. “Hope you like it. According to my mom, it's an old family recipe.” 

He didn't know how to explain to her that he was hungry for something that can't really be cooked and served in a candlelit dinner. So for now he goes through with the motions of putting it in his mouth and swallowing it. 

This time though, the second the smell of it hits his nose he feels as if he's been transported back to camp. 

The light of the fire silhouettes his love, her outline blackened by the shadows of the night. He smiles as she turns. She holds a plate of food in her hands for herself, she has to eat something before he does, after all. The fish she eats will make her blood irony tasting, but it makes him stronger for tomorrow's inevitable fight. She smiles and places a hand at his cheek, sitting by his side. They silently watch the fire as she nourishes herself. 

“Hellooo? Are you there? Something wrong?” Astarion snaps out of his trance and blinks back into the current moment. He looks at Octavia, the look of confusion painted clearly on her face. 

“Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, what was that again?” He smiles sheepishly and goes to grab another piece of food when he smacks the now empty plate with the fork. “I was asking if you liked it, Astarion, but I think you just answered my question before I finished asking it.”  Octavia smiles awkwardly at him, he can feel the embarrassment on his face. 

“Oh..” he puts the utensil down and grabs for the wine glass to his right. He drinks some of the wine and stares at the fireplace. He watches the flames dance like he did back then.

“Do you want to go sit by the fireplace with me, again? I tend to run a bit cold.” he asks, his voice low and soft. Octavia nods and she stands, her turn to lead now. She holds his hand and starts to walk over towards the couch, until she gets a brilliant little idea.

“Hold on!” Octavia releases her hand and turns back to the table, she grabs their glasses and the second full bottle of wine she had on the kitchen counter. 

Octavia makes her way to the coffee table and places the drinks down. Then she goes to the couch and pushes it closer to the fireplace. She finally grabs the giant throw blanket by her book corner and throws it on the couch. “Hmmm” 

She circles around the living room making sure her work is perfect like a bird inspecting its nest. She nods reaffirming it and guides Astarion over. She pushes him into the couch, eliciting a confused look from him. 

Octavia pours some wine into the glass and hands it to him. He takes it from her as she's taking off her shoes. She sits with her legs crossed to her side, holds out her hand and flicks it making the purple hand reappear. It takes the blanket float up and wrap itself around the two of them.

With the same hand she makes it pour her a glass of wine and bring it over to her. “Quite the trick! Very self indulgent, I like that.” He tips his glass to her, and she does the same towards him, their glasses touching with a soft clink.

“Being a stressed out college student comes in ‘handy’ sometimes don't you think?” She grins a cheesy smile knowing he would cringe at the poor pun. 

As predicted he groans and rolls his eyes. Octavia giggles into her wine, settling under his arm. They smile at each other and stare at the fire. “I really feel like I can be myself around you, Astarion. You’ve been so kind to me.” She holds his hand that's draped over her shoulder and leans into him more. The feeling of wanting to tell her his secret weighed on his mind. 

“I feel like I can be myself around you as well, Octavia. You have made me feel things I haven't felt in a very very long time.” He squeezed her hand a little.

They sit intertwined in each other's arms, Astarion feels the familiar pang of guilt building inside him. She's been so open and honest with him. It's not fair to her, and it's certainly not the way he thought this would go. But something inside is telling him to do it, and to do it now. 

He clears his throat and shifts away from Octavia a bit, separating their hands and sitting up straight. “There's something I feel I should tell you, Octavia. It's kind of important.” 

She got up a little to face him. She holds onto his hand, rubbing small circles into the top like he did for her earlier. “I…That is to say..I mean…” he stammers through, not keeping eye contact. 

“You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Astarion, if you aren't ready to of course.” she continues the contact on his hand. “I want to. I want you to be able to truly see me as I am. What I am…” Astarion is clearly fighting with himself, but it seems like no matter what, he's determined to get this done and over with.

Octavia cocks her head to the side as Astarion downs the rest of his wine. He places the glass on the table and takes a deep breath. “You might want to finish yours as well..or you could wait til after, your choice.” She takes a big gulp of her drink and places the glass next to his. 

She turns to him and takes a deep breath as well. “Whatever it is, I don't think it'll change my mind about you. Unless you’re a cold blooded murderer or some monster come to kill me in my sleep.” Octavia laughs, not noticing the worried look on Astarion’s face, he laughs awkwardly. 

He gulps in fear and anticipation, Octavia looks at him slightly grimacing “Come on it can't be that bad right? We all have our secrets.” Her throat catches the strange laugh that escapes.

If he only knew what she wanted to tell him as well. She likes him, and whatever things he has to keep to himself couldn't keep her from being nervous about her own hang ups. 

Octavia hopes whatever it is, he isn't going to stop what they had going on. She was happy, and she hoped he was too. 

They sit together for a few moments, he watches the glow of the fire. He doesn't want to ruin this moment with her. The pretty little gift that was dropped in his lap after a century of solitude. He sighs, and holds her closer, if his heart could work, it would be beating through his chest.

Astarion clears his throat “I’m not sure you'll feel that way in a few minutes, darling.”

“Astarion, you can trust me. I trust you. Just tell me. I’m a big girl.” Octavia leans closer, as Astarion holds her hands and presses his lips to the tops of her palms. He hears her breath catch and then he lets his confession roll out of his lips.

Octavia, I'm a vampire.

Tags: @justporo @satanicspinosaurus @sleepy-timaeus @tragedybunny @davenswitcher @wayward-hel

[ridiasfangirlings]

Saruhiko decides to get a haircut because his hair is really long and he meets Misaki in the same barber shop

Imagine this post-betrayal, Fushimi decides his hair’s getting too long but he’s feeling too lazy to cut it himself so he finally drags himself down to a barbershop. Fushimi probably doesn’t normally like having his hair cut by other people, especially since I imagine the poor guy cutting his hair would want to make small talk and Fushimi’s just clicking his tongue and radiating ‘leave me alone’ energy, but he also doesn’t want to cut his own hair and he doesn’t want to be attacked by Hidaka with the scissors again so he has no choice but to get a proper haircut at a barbershop. Luckily the guy cutting his hair realizes pretty quickly that Fushimi just wants to sit in silence and have his hair cut so he just gets to work while Fushimi sits there with his glasses off staring blurring ahead.

He’s about halfway through his haircut when he hears the barber next to him chatting with his new client. Fushimi grimaces and clicks his tongue quietly, like oh great now I have to listen to idiots talking until my haircut is done. That’s when the client next to him responds to the barber and Fushimi immediately does a double take because he would know that voice anywhere. Imagine him sitting there silently, waiting to see if he’s noticed, and then when Yata’s barber asks him a question Fushimi pipes up in response instead with something insulting. Yata’s like wait what and then he almost jumps out of his seat like ‘Saruhiko!’. The barber tells him to sit down and Fushimi snickers, telling Yata he won’t get a lollipop if he isn’t good. Yata’s like fuck you I’m not a kid, Fushimi’s like if you’re not then why did the barber give you a booster seat to sit in.

This time Fushimi’s barber scolds him, telling him not to lean forward so much. Yata huffs like maybe you should pay attention before you end up bald Saruhiko, Fushimi says he thought Yata was the one with the receding hairline. Yata’s all what was that, almost jumping up again before stopping himself, and Fushimi says that’s why Yata wears the hat all the time isn’t it. Yata says well at least his hair doesn’t look like a rat’s nest full of product, Fushimi says if he has problems with hair products then maybe he should talk to his hair-dyeing King. Yata says Mikoto’s hair is natural and Fushimi snickers again, wondering how Yata knows that, did he ask Mikoto if the curtains match the drapes. Yata looks at him blankly all why are we talking about curtains and Fushimi sighs dramatically, what a virgin after all. 

Yata almost jumps up once again and this time imagine his barber isn’t able to tell him to sit down quickly enough and ends up chopping a big chunk of hair right off at the top of his head. Fushimi cracks up at this, because now Misaki really has a bald spot. Yata’s all that’s it, I’m gonna kick your ass, and Fushimi’s like any time Misaki — and he leans forward too fast, just in time for his barber to cut his long bangs neatly off. The two of them just stare blankly at each other for a moment, Yata with his bald spot and Fushimi with his short uneven bangs, and then the two of them are then promptly kicked out of the barbershop and told not to come back. Yata pulls his hat over his bald spot as he complains this is all Fushimi’s fault, Fushimi’s like how is it my fault you’re an idiot as he fusses with his bangs to try and get them to lay right.

[unclewaynemunson]

hi i just found your blog and i’m in love with ur writing<3 imma stalk it, if that’s ok!! also, saw ppl can send writing ideas (u don’t have to do this it’s just something i like reading lol) and i see lots of angsty fics where steve is the one that fucks up and has to apologize but I also think eddie could fuck up too - so if you could right something angsty (with a happy ending obv lol i’m not made of stone) where eddie fucks up and has to figure out how to apologize to steve :) but like i said no pressure if it’s not something you want to do <333

keep up with your writing, it’s beautiful <33

Ohmygod this is such a lovely message, thank you so much <333 Seriously this really means sooo much! I hope you're having a good day, lots of love!

And YESSS i love this prompt! I started writing something and it completely got away from me so now it's getting waaayyy longer than i planned it to be, whoops. I'll give you the first part already and I hope to have the second (longer) part ready soon.

(also, i wrote this post a while ago which also has angst and eddie being kind of a dick so you might like that one, too)

XXXXX

'Do you know what day it is tomorrow?'

They're on Eddie's bed together, the two of them, not doing much – or rather, Steve's not doing much. Eddie, however, is tirelessly scribbling down ideas in his notepad to prepare for the next Hellfire meeting.

He looks up from his notes to look at Steve in disbelief, wondering if he's for real with that question.

'Friday,' he answers in the most scathing tone he can muster.

'C'mon Eddie, don't be a dick,' says Steve, but a small smile is playing around his lips. 'Can I take you out tomorrow night?'

'I have band practice on Fridays. You know that.'

'Yeah, but I talked to the guys. They're okay with skipping it one time.'

'Dude, I'm not gonna miss my band practice for fucking Valentine's Day.'

Steve frowns. 'You don't have to say it like it's a gross word, you know.'

'But it is a gross word, Stevie!' Eddie exclaims dramatically. 'Come on, you know just as well as I do that it's not for people like us.'

'Seriously?'

Eddie doesn't understand why Steve is acting so surprised. Honestly, what did he expect from dating a non-conformist queer metalhead, exactly?

'It's not even about romance, man! It's a conspiracy of the big corporations so they can capitalize off their ridiculous made-up heterosexual ideas of what relationships should be like. Nothing romantic about it, it's all bullshit.'

Something shifts in Steve's gaze. 'It's all bullshit?' he repeats, eyebrows arched into a frown.

There's something in his tone and in his pose, his arms crossed in front of his chest, like he's challenging Eddie, that makes Eddie feel like he can only double down on this now.

'Yeah. Complete bullshit.'

'Okay.' Steve nods, opens his mouth, then closes it again – seems to swallow his own words, before he continues: 'Okay, good to know. I won't keep you away from your band practice, then. Um, you know what, I should be heading home now.'

'I thought you were staying here for the night?'

'No, I changed my mind.' Steve doesn't look him quite in his eyes. 'I think I just wanna be alone. Get a good night's sleep.'

Eddie squints at Steve as he gets up from his lazy position on the bed to grab his shoes.

'Are you angry?'

'No, I'm just – you're probably right, I don't know why I even thought – never mind.'

But Eddie can't see Steve's face as he's ducked down to tie his shoelaces, and his voice sounds oddly strained. Steve leaves Eddie's room without so much as a kiss on Eddie's cheek and only stops in the living room to say goodbye to Wayne before he heads out into the cold evening.

'You and Steve okay?' Wayne asks after the sound of Steve's car has faded away. Eddie is still standing in the middle of the living room, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

'I... don't know,' he answers his uncle's question. 'He was being all weird about fucking Valentine's Day, can you believe that?' He lets himself fall onto the couch. 'What about this –' he makes a vague gesture at both himself and the room around them – 'could have ever given him the idea that I'd care about Valentine's Day?' It's impossible for him to keep the disgust out of his voice.

Wayne sighs. 'And did it ever occur to you that maybe he cares 'bout Valentine's Day?'

Eddie scoffs. 'Of course he doesn't care about Valentine's Day, he's –' Shit. The horrifying realization dawns over him and it makes so much sense that he wonders how he didn't see it right away. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Steve Harrington cares about Valentine's Day. And he probably planned some big romantic surprise date for Eddie and all Eddie said was that it was bullshit.

He groans and lets himself fall further into the worn-out couch cushions.

'That's what I thought,' Wayne comments dryly.

'Shit! Shit, shit, shit, I fucked up so bad, Wayne! How could I have known?! He's a fucking badass, I didn't think – Ah, damnit, I'm such an idiot!'

'Badass or not, if you didn't wanna be with some hopeless romantic, you been lookin' in the wrong place, boy,' Wayne says.

Eddie lifts his head up to take a look at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It's almost eleven thirty. That leaves him with about eight hours until Steve wakes up on his own in that big empty house, on Valentine's Day, ready to start his day feeling completely miserable. It's time to switch into all-nighter mode.

XXXXX

(Update: read pt2 here)

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Inspired by this post @xoxogabriella hope you don’t mind me using your art for inspiration (:

*based in 1987, where everyone’s finishing up school due to it not being in session after all of the “earth quakes” that and I realize I made plot hole and I’m to lazy to fix it*

Eddies hair whips around in whatever direction the wind wants to take it, fingers strumming on the drivers wheel as his other hand fidgets with the rings on his right hand. Leaning forward a bit as he looks out the front window, trying to make sure he didn’t get to close to the bumper of the car that was driving twenty in a fifty zone. He was tempted to start honking, but he recognized the car belonged to one of the older woman a few trailers down from his. She was a sweet lady, but her driving skills sucked. There was literally no one else on the country road except her and his van. Groaning he’s tempted to throw his head back in a dramatic way, just to make Chrissy laugh in his passenger seat. A sweet laugh that made his stomachs do flips. If he wasn’t currently into someone else, and she wasn’t into someone else they would have been dating by now. “Eddie! Eyes on the road you goober?” Chrissy has the passenger mirror pulled down as she does a attempt at fixing her hair. Which was in a high pony tail, to go along with the cheer outfit she was wearing. Moving her leg up on the glove department as she fits herself into a awkward way so that she could start to adjust what was underneath her skirt. The first sign that the two were a little to close. Though that point may have been proven with the fact that Eddie was currently wearing one of her newer thongs that one, she did not want back and two, he couldn’t take off until he grew a pair and asked Steve Harrington out.

Eddies eyes flick over to her in response before returning back to the road, nearly cheering when the woman’s turn signal starts to click on and off. Moving to lay back in a more relaxed position in his seat with a loud sigh. Before he’s yelping when he feels lace riding up his ass. Grunting he doesn’t hesitate moving his hand down to adjust his crotch and try to pick the worst wedgie known to man. His attempts at being discreet fail as Chrissy snorts next to him. “You know if you just asked him out you wouldn’t have to be wearing that thong right now.” She giggles. Moving the mirror up to click back into place as she gets situated in her seat. Moving to grab the seat belt to put back on, clicking it into place right as Eddie purposely breaks a bit harder forcing her to fall forward. Messing up her hair that fell in her face, sticking to her make up. Spitting lose strands out of her mouth she moves and punches him in the shoulder. Smiling proudly as he yelps out, rubbing his shoulder in pain as he winces.

“Chrissy! You hit harder then my dad after a few to many,” he jokes, knowing she didn’t enjoy his taste in dark jokes. The cheerleader doesn’t even bother to a-knowledge that joke as she starts to fix herself again.

“You know Teddy bear, it’s no big deal, I like dick, you like dick and Steve Harrington definitely loves cock. Have you not see the way he praises KFC when he’s out with Robin.” Chrissy is teasing, enjoying the way Eddie’s face goes a bright pink in response. Moving to quickly try and turn up the Ozzy album that was currently playing. In a attempt to drown her out. Only causing her high pitch giggle to somehow go over the guitar solo that was playing. His hand is slapped away as Chrissy moves turning it down. Beaming as she twists her body to look at Eddie. A knowing look on her face as she playfully pouts. “You know, at this rate you might have to start tucking so you don’t rip that thong. Remember what that drag queen said about how you shove it in and use tape to pull your dick back-”

“Will you stop talking about Dick! And I will not be tucking my jewels away, I’m wearing them loud and proud and if that means I have to buy a new pack of thongs then so be it. That’s gods will Chrissy, and who am I to break his-” Eddies rambling as his hands fly around in the air. Chrissy’s laughing harder as they pull into town.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie-” she chants out louder over his words to get his attention. Getting it only after a few attempts, “I’m sorry to inform you of this but Steve Harrington definitely has a thing for dick. Did you not see him in that scoops ahoy uniform? Or the way he was drooling over Johnny Depp in that denim vest on twenty one street? I even asked Robin how many tapes he’s recorded of the damn show and she says he has a full shelf dedicated to the damn show, now that isn’t straight behavior everyone knows you don’t watch that show for the plot. Apparently he has season one all recorded.” Chrissy is talking in a scandalous tone as Eddie groans. He was aware of how obsessed Steve was with that show. It was one of the first things he clicked with after the whole world ending situation. It had been the first show to start airing when everything started to become “normal” which was a little over a year after everything that had happened.

“First off, it’s 21 Jump Street-”

“Oh my god! He’s gotten you to!” Chrissy squeals right as Eddie parks right in front of family video. Where they would most likely find their dinguses doing something stupid.

“Oh shut up, and second don’t act like you aren’t whipped for Robin!” Eddie points a finger at her with raised eyebrows.

“Hey! At least I know she likes boobies.” Chrissy giggles as she hops out of the van. Slamming the door to the van ending the conversation there.

[iii-days-grace]

The Father, the Bun, and the Holy Ghost

Hey! I don't have the spoons today to put this up and tag it on AO3 and/or Knotfic, but I wanted to post it anyway. I'll upload it there in a few days or whenever I have the time and energy.

In that case, consider this a sort of open beta reading :) Summary: Shawn and Sid get the munchies one night while on tour, and explore a new city to find a restaurant with an unusual theme.

Word Count: 1076

Rating: Gen

Characters: Sid Wilson, Shawn Crahan

Pairing: 0/6

The Father, the Bun, and the Holy Ghost

‘Sorry daddy, I’ve been -’

Shawn swats Sid from across the table. ‘That’s not the words. Here.’ He shoves a fry into his hand and pops the lid from off Sid’s drink. Not technically the right ritual either, but they’ll skip the confession shit for now. The food is hot, so state of grace be damned.

As he shifts he catches a whiff of pot stink from his jacket. They shared another joint on the way over so he knows they both have to stink at this point, all the smoke and sweat and probably other things liberated by the misty spring rain they had walked through to get here. Everything in this city closed early for some reason.

But this is a burger place somewhere close to midnight, who else is it open for anyway besides the stoners?

Probably not good Christian boys, even if weed was legal in this country. He thinks. He doesn’t have time to remember such things on tour. Nobody seems to be batting an eye about the smell of the Devil’s lettuce though, so they’re probably fine.

Something about the cocktail tickles his limbic system in a way that reminds him of evenings spent loitering behind the high school, bumming smokes off each other from friends and tucking butts inside their pockets to avoid leaving evidence.

Anyway, the stench that leaches off them still doesn’t mask the hot and crispy smell from off the trays. Thick-cut golden fries with skin, the burger bleeds that weird pink juice that isn’t blood, but sure looks like it — nothing like the anaemic grey things they usually manage to grab from a drive-through between shows.

‘Earth to Shawn?’ Sid’s still holding his fry between his fingertips like a joint, waiting.

‘Alright, alright. Now eat it.’ Shawn sloshes the open drink in one hand as he gestures. A few drops — (the blood of Christ, amen) — land on the buns, fries scattered around it like manna (don’t worry, I’ll pay. Let’s go. No, it’s not too far, we’ll walk, I’m starving.) Midnight, high school, hotel. Follow the fryer and grease smell inside.

Where were they again?

He shakes his head and floats himself back down to Earth, and listens to the ice crackling in his drink as he waits for the man across the table to finish chewing. Somewhere between one and thirty minutes later, Sid conquers the solitary little fry and grins.

‘Okay, now gimme the blood,’ he says, wiggling his fingers in a lazy impression of Count Dracula.

He pauses. ‘Wait, does this make us vampires? Holy shit, is Jesus a zombie?’ Sid whispers in horror — maybe dramatic, but maybe real if his high is anything like the one smoothing out Shawn’s frontal lobes.

Grabbing Shawn’s free hand, Sid peels his sparkling, bloodshot eyes open like he’s about to spill some big secret and over the table. Sid blinks, trying and mostly failing to focus, his eyes swimming a little as he’s distracted by the neon sign over Shawn’s shoulder.

Shawn’s facing away from the wall, but he can see the logo mirrored on the window, shimmering through the glazed reflection and backlit by the city lights beyond it.

‘Sidney.’

‘Are we cannibals?’

‘You’re not even Catholic. Do you want me to do it or not?’ Shawn asks. Goddamn zombie Jesus. He sighs. An argument for when they’re more baked, perhaps.

Not that they’re being proper about the thing anyway, but this isn’t much of a church either, let alone a cathedral, so who cares. Despite the topical verses printed on the cups and the cheeky golden calf by the tip jar (’alms for the poor’). In another life he might be able to remember what the verses are about, but currently his attention is doing double duty.

Shawn holds the drink to Sid’s face and gently backhands him again when he moves to pick it up. Sid gets the idea and lets Shawn hold the cup while he takes a sip, swishing it around in his mouth. He looks at Shawn expectantly.

‘That’s it?’

‘By the power vested in me by the state of Iowa, I now pronounce you cleansed of fast food sins. Heathen. Can we eat now?’

‘Can I have your pickle?’

‘What, your thirst hasn’t been slaked yet? Spiritually speaking of course. Don’t waste the blessing, or we’ll have to do it all over again.’ He laughs and shakes his head, and peels open his sandwich, plopping the vinegary wafer onto Sid’s plate.

‘You’re gross,’ he says.

‘Hey, fuck you, it was your weed.’

Sid tucks the evil green thing into the real lettuce and folds his burger back together. Shawn methodically snaps the lid back on his drink and unwraps his straw, squinting at the verse printed on the paper, something from Ecclesiastes. One of the nicer books of the thing, if he remembers correctly. He tucks the paper his pocket to look up in the bedside Bible back at the hotel.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the sizzle of fries cooking. Now and then the doorbell jingles as someone enters the restaurant. Sid bums the occasional fry from his plate; Shawn lets him. The high settles into his muscles as the food sits warm in his belly.

There's no clock in here, but the sound of the remaining ice cubes rattling as Sid finishes his drink bring him back to Earth again.

Sid taps his arm.

‘Hey, I saw a fried chicken place with a sexy chicken lady logo on the way here. Do you think that one’s themed like a strip club?’

Sure, why not? If a burger could be redeemed, chicken probably could too.

‘Let’s check it out. There’s a mini-fridge in the room for leftovers.‘

They clear their table and stack the trays on top of the bin. Shawn slips his jacket back on again as they go outside. As they open the door, in the distance, he fancies he hears the ring of a church bell.

‘I’ll buy,’ Shawn says, ‘but you owe me a joint for this one.’

Sid laughs and gently shoves into Shawn with his shoulder, hands in his pockets as they head back into the night.

‘Any time, dude. Any time.’

FINI

Ecclesiastes 9:7 - Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do.

[dirtbra1n]

tagged by @aranarumei hi kiri. I copy-pasted these however from @sunnnfish because of post work laziness. hi sunnnfish

1. Are you named after anyone?

if we’re talking real person name then no. if we’re talking dirtbrain name then also no, unless you count a joke from 50% off, which I do not. I like both names just fine though

2. When was the last time you cried?

I was shedding tears over silly things last night if that counts. real big emotion crying I don’t remember actually how long ago, but probably not very. I’m a crybaby I cry all the time

3. Do you have kids? / recommend a song?

got apollo justice on the brain and in the membrane so Solitary Confinement - Darkness Theme. for when you’re feeling nefarious and willing to take all of your many secrets to the fucking grave

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

well. yes. way way more when I was younger but I think it still makes up like a sizable fraction of my speech. I do think I’m a little less of an asshole now though

5. What sports do you play/have played?

Ha ha. ah. I did ballet and other dance for a spell when I was a kid but unfortunately didn’t keep that up, but I was generally pretty fast and halfway athletic then too. didn’t do sports after that unless you. unless you want to count marching band, which I wouldn’t because we were pretty lax about it. like marching band can be very impressive and deeply deeply athletic but ours was not, which was fine because I got sick and fucked up for a while anyway. and I’m not doing any sports now in college, but if it doesn’t get cancelled* then I’ll be doing table tennis this next semester. Guess why

*several similar classes I’ve signed up for previously have gotten cancelled. massive bummer

6. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

I guess from afar how tall someone is. up close more just expression, try to get a read on how they’re feeling and so on

7. Eye color?

also hazel :)

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

I think. I can probably count on one hand the amount of horror movies I’ve watched. but then again I’m not much of a movies guy to begin with. so happy endings

9. Any special talents?

ahhhh I can clap with one hand with both hands. like both hands can clap without the other. I have gotten weird looks for this

10. Where were you born / what made you make a tumblr account?

a hospital that is not in the united states :) / my sister made one and the younger sibling follower gene compelled me to do so also. and that was. maybe 9 years ago. 2014 ish. I should be clear that I was not old enough to be making an account, or on the internet in general probably, and this is definitely a big contributor to the various things wrong with me

11. What are your hobbies?

video game slash reading slash talking to myself slash writing slash watching things when I can get myself to. I don’t leave the house. occasionally I will get into a big crossword and word search phase. I almost forgot photography That would’ve been silly

12. Do you have any pets?

two of them! a cat and dog we all collectively call them the kids even though dogs an old man. he is a human person with anxiety. cat is more dog than dog, who is as we just established a human person. they both get a photo with dramatic lighting

they are everything to me

13. How tall are you?

5’6” last I checked

14. Favorite subject in school?

when there was a good teacher then anything english adjacent. specifically with a focus on literature. otherwise. band. actually I lied the real answer is essentially always band

15. Dream job?

I don’t . have one. I know what I’m aiming for and I’m really pretty sure I’ll enjoy it but I think if we’re talking dreams like ‘I don’t have back problems nor the stamina of a grandparent’ then I’d do odd jobs I think. I’d probably be content picking up trash

as for tags @x-eins @vyathacov if you wanna and anyone else who feels like it. it’s fun it’s like a sharing circle

[writing-mechanical-monsters]

HIIIIII! So I might be back again, lol. Idk, BUT I do have a new idea(s) for the plot so that’s probably changing again, lol, sorry, I just keep getting new, really cool ideas. ANYWAYS, I have two separate ideas that are really really similar related to the plot and I can’t decide between them so I’m asking you guys, even though there isn’ really any ‘you guys’ here haha.. Yeah, idk, but choose one!

ALSO PLEASE MAKE RECOMMENDATIONS ON THINGS TO POST ABOUT, PLEASE ASK QUESTIONS IF YOU HAVE ANY! I want to post more but I don’t really have ideas and I don’t know what you’re interested in regarding stuff about MM and it’s universe 😔

I’m not telling you guys anything about the options btw, idk why, I just won’t, you guys can find out once the poll is over, sorry, maybe, I think? But if you really wanna know what the two options are you can ask and I MIGHT tell you. Idk, yeah, choose an option pls 👍🏻

Sorry for all the options lol

Rant about side/background/minor characters under the cut, since I wanted to include it but, yeah, idk. Words that make sentences under the cut since I’m too lazy to delete it or make it a different post 😅😔

is it called a ‘cut’ or smthn else? idk. I think I’ve seen people refer to it like that, but idk. I’m still not entirely educated on how to make Tumblr posts, somehow, lol. Idk

Also I still kinda might need some background/minor/side characters if you have any you want to see in the story 🥺 I wish we could make custom emojis, that’s the closest one to what I want but it’s not perfect 😔

but yeah if you want to see one of your characters be mentioned, like, once or twice in MM, PLEASE, I am too lazy to make a billion side characters on my own 😴😔

Please encourage me to make my own side characters actually, I should not be asking y’all 😞

but the offers still up if you want

Also, big thanks to the singular person who answered my prayer the first time I asked, I really like the idea, and the character is probably gonna be a bigger deal in the story than I first planned lol. News reporters are very important though, and even though the plot is changing and I have no idea how I will insert this character into the story now(since the person[I think you know who you are if you’re reading this, idk, but I’m not gonna tag you since I don’t know if you’d wanna be tagged 😣 please let me know if you’re okay w/ me tagging you in posts related to this character if you see this!!!] who came up with the character [minus the appearance and name, basically just their job kinda, but if they have a vision of what the character looks like or is named LET ME KNOW PLS, I can do it myself but still 😅]had an idea already for what their role in the story would be, and the story has changed dramatically) they will be in the story no matter what.

I have an idea for what they will do in the story if y’all choose option one but not yet for option two, BUT I WILL FIGURE IT OUT!!

sorry for the rant lol, idk. Have a good day 😊👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

[thoughts-of-loyalty]

I was working on a whole post about this that I ultimately deleted from my drafts about this, but...

As I think(?) was pointed out by HBG, the thing with folks like IH and others who plagiarize is a combination of laziness, lack of respect for the original creators, and certainty he wouldn't be found out.

Like, yes, he certainly could have asked for permission, could've tried to figure out a way to collaborate, could have given the original article credit... but he didn't care to. IH wanted to get the sole credit because that would be much more prestigious than just doing a dramatic reading of an article, and (unfortunately) correctly believed for most of the time that the video was up that he could away with it. I doubt most anyone noticed what he'd done, and anyone who did was likely buried underneath all the comments praising the video or the like. If not for the video blowing up the way it did that it was about to make its way back to the notice of the article's publishers, I doubt he ever would've been caught, much less called out like he was.

And the sad thing is, if you look at the comments on the "reupload," you can see the point when comments were made before and after HBG's video. There's comments from before that video thar are praising the reupload all over again because he duped them into thinking it was nothing more than just him needing to appease the evil YT censors (instead of him being a plagiarist) - consider how he never even makes mention of the original article in the video intro he added in, and cuts out the details of the copyright strike to obfuscate facts. IH knew damn well what he was doing, and hoped to get away with it as much as he could again.

He was just (for lack of a better term) unlucky that HBG is the sort of person who would dig past his surface-level BS to learn what actually went on and put it on full blast. If no one with a big enough platform and viewership base had caught on, he'd have no doubt continued on without a single care in the world. You could even argue he doesn't care nearly all that much - he's still making videos (at a snail's pace, but what else is new with him) and has almost 4 million subscribers - he's taken a hit, but that's still peanuts to him and his more recent videos still got over a million views.

I originally titled my post ""He/She Could Have Just..." - A Response to Responses About HBG's Video," because that's what I saw commonly discussed the most about people who found the plagiarists' behavior confusing, which i found was quite understandable. Yeah, almost everyone who got targeted by HBG in that vid could have just done things differently - done it right - from the start... but they never wanted to because, like all plagiarists, they believed they'd be able to get away with it, because they see integrity as secondary to their own success on the platforms they're looking to make it big on.

He's not the main subject of The Plagiarism Video (you know the one) but the Internet Historian plagiarism case is the one which perplexes me the most.

He could've easily just asked for permission and presented his video as an adaptation of an article. Everything in the video besides the script was original work. His audience wouldn't care either way.

But instead he tries to pass the script off as his own creation and then tries to cover for it with a bad rewrite when he's found out. And now his reputation is tanked.

[titoist]

Young George Willard got out of bed at four in the morning. It was April and the young tree leaves were just coming out of their buds. The trees along the residence streets in Winesburg are maple and the seeds are winged. When the wind blows they whirl crazily about, filling the air and making a carpet underfoot. George came downstairs into the hotel office carrying a brown leather bag. His trunk was packed for departure. Since two o'clock he had been awake thinking of the journey he was about to take and wondering what he would find at the end of his journey. The boy who slept in the hotel office lay on a cot by the door. His mouth was open and he snored lustily. George crept past the cot and went out into the silent deserted main street. The east was pink with the dawn and long streaks of light climbed into the sky where a few stars still shone. Beyond the last house on Trunion Pike in Winesburg there is a great stretch of open fields. The fields are owned by farmers who live in town and drive homeward at evening along Trunion Pike in light creaking wagons. In the fields are planted berries and small fruits. In the late afternoon in the hot summers when the road and the fields are covered with dust, a smoky haze lies over the great flat basin of land. To look across it is like looking out across the sea. In the spring when the land is green the effect is somewhat different. The land becomes a wide green billiard table on which tiny human insects toil up and down. All through his boyhood and young manhood George Willard had been in the habit of walking on Trunion Pike. He had been in the midst of the great open place on winter nights when it was covered with snow and only the moon looked down at him; he had been there in the fall when bleak winds blew and on summer evenings when the air vibrated with the song of insects. On the April morning he wanted to go there again, to walk again in the silence. He did walk to where the road dipped down by a little stream two miles from town and then turned and walked silently back again. When he got to Main Street clerks were sweeping the sidewalks before the stores. "Hey, you George. How does it feel to be going away?" they asked.

[...]

On the station platform everyone shook the young man's hand. More than a dozen people waited about. Then they talked of their own affairs. Even Will Henderson, who was lazy and often slept until nine, had got out of bed. George was embarrassed. Gertrude Wilmot, a tall thin woman of fifty who worked in the Winesburg post office, came along the station platform. She had never before paid any attention to George. Now she stopped and put out her hand. In two words she voiced what everyone felt. "Good luck," she said sharply and then turning went on her way.

[...]

George glanced up and down the car to be sure no one was looking, then took out his pocketbook and counted his money. His mind was occupied with a desire not to appear green. Almost the last words his father had said to him concerned the matter of his behavior when he got to the city. "Be a sharp one," Tom Willard had said. "Keep your eyes on your money. Be awake. That's the ticket. Don't let anyone think you're a greenhorn." After George counted his money he looked out of the window and was surprised to see that the train was still in Winesburg. The young man, going out of his town to meet the adventure of life, began to think but he did not think of anything very big or dramatic. Things like his mother's death, his departure from Winesburg, the uncertainty of his future life in the city, the serious and larger aspects of his life did not come into his mind. He thought of little things--Turk Smollet wheeling boards through the main street of his town in the morning, a tall woman, beautifully gowned, who had once stayed overnight at his father's hotel, Butch Wheeler the lamp lighter of Winesburg hurrying through the streets on a summer evening and holding a torch in his hand, Helen White standing by a window in the Winesburg post office and putting a stamp on an envelope. The young man's mind was carried away by his growing passion for dreams. One looking at him would not have thought him particularly sharp. With the recollection of little things occupying his mind he closed his eyes and leaned back in the car seat. He stayed that way for a long time and when he aroused himself and again looked out of the car window the town of Winesburg had disappeared and his life there had become but a background on which to paint the dreams of his manhood. THE END

i was right in my assumption, it made me cry. how could it not have?;

— 07/16/2023 6:42 PM yesterday night: holding my face close to my face in the bathroom mirror, moving & posing & staring at my reflection, lecturing myself, telling me over & over that after the big change or whatever it is that i have to do, after i finally move somewhere else or whatever i have to do, i know i will be scared of the big change, but i will feel better. i know that it is going to scare you, but you will be happier after the big change or whatever it is that you have to do. after it you will be happier