#my fucking beloved

[evillillad]

ough......ouh....women...

[beababoobies]

Hey, could you please do an angel dust x emo reader?

I am going to be using NB!reader for this but please do know I’m quite aware Angel is gay! He is canonically gay and I think that’s cool yippers ok lesgo 🙏🙏 by Emo I wasn’t sure exactly what you meant so I went with like an angry moody bitch with a 2000s MySpace Emo sort of aesthetic. If you want something diff feel free to re-request and specify! Thatz it :3 </3 (also Emo community please don’t attack me you guys are so cool I’m scared of you. I know corpse paint is gothic I swear please you guys are so cool).

Corpse Paint

Angel Dusk X Emo!NB!Reader

words : 1k , warning for mentions of sexual trauma!

You had been staying in this fucking hotel for months. Did it suck ass? Yes. Did you kind of maybe despise half the people here? Oh, absolutely. But - free place to crash, and it’s not like you were doing much with your days anyways, so the “rehabilitation” excersizes only got positivity-toxic half the time. Plus, Charlie let you skip out on them. Her little girlfriend didn’t though, so you were usually there dejectedly. Not anything worse than your highschool experience. 

But you also had Angel. Anthony. Whatever he let you call him depending on the day. And he was half the reason you stayed here. The amount of times you’ve crawled into bed with him and cried? You hadn’t cared to keep track of anymore. A long day, night - of shooting scenes, and you gently comforted him while he laid tiredly in bed, rubbing his back until he fell asleep. Plus, you liked his pig. You and fat nuggets would hangout whenever he was gone. 

You wouldn’t consider your relationship too romantic, but it was unbelievably supportive. You two didn’t really get intimate, due to his work, he didn’t trust anyone he was intimate with. He told you that that could change, but you reassured him over and over that it didn’t ever have to. You were happy gently comforting him. You were happy drinking with him, you were happy to be around him.

That didn’t mean he was completely touch-adverse, though. You exchanged small pecks on the cheeks, held hands - though not publicly, due to some of his fans obsessive behaviours - cuddled up. Charlie had offered to just let you guys share a room, but you had rejected the idea and shut it down pretty quickly. You loved each other very dearly, but sometimes you just needed space. 

Today wasn’t one of those days, though. You, head resting in his lap as he scrolled on his phone, your 2000s MySpace mix playing softly in the background as you looking through a new catalogue of Hell’s Most Edgy with a marker, circling anything you liked, Fat Nuggets sleeping soundly at Angel’s feet, snoring loudly. But adorably. 

“I have a favor to ask.” Angel mumbled out nervously. He hated asking for anything. Especially from someone he had already asked so much of. But you just nodded silently, circling a new, shiny pair of black platforms, before looking up at him with a small smile. “‘Sup, Webs?” You asked, tilting your head as you sat up properly.

“I - well, Val wants to do this shoot today, but he wants me to do Corpse paint. I don’t know how to do.. that. So I was wondering if you could help me out?” He asks with a nervous smile, only to watch the smile on your face grow wide, nodding excitedly as you hopped quickly off the bed to run to your room to get your makeup, disturbing a now cranky Fat Nuggets, who oinked at Angel before walking over to his bed to fall back to sleep. 

You came back into his room, closing the door quietly behind you, box of white cream foundation and a million sticks of eyeliner and other black makeup pencils, along with some dramatic statement lashes and lash glue, sitting down next to him on the bed on your knees, gesturing for him to sit up with his legs out straight. You straddled him softly, opening your box of makeup.

“So, this feels - kind of gross to put on. Gonna survive that?” You ask with a smile, tilting your head as he nodded with a small chuckle. “I’ve had much worse on my face.” He says with a wink and a smile. “I’ll survive.” He says with a shrug as you brush some of his fluff out of his face, starting to paint the thick white foundering over his pale pink fur, watching him awakward my try to avoid eye contact, hands awkwardly shifting, trying not to touch your thighs.

“You can put your hands on my thighs, it’s okay. I’m not going to initiate anything.” You say reassuringly and watch as one of his pairs of hands rest comfortably on your thighs, the other set holding up a mirror so he can see the work you’re doing. You watch him visibly relax slightly. He always is a little paranoid about people trying to be intimate with him - reasonably so - so you make sure to quietly reassure him in these moments. 

It takes a couple thick layers of the face paint to get his Angel stamp of approval, in which you go in with black eye-safe eyeliner for his eyes, coating them in black and following the image he used as reference, making streaks of black run from his eyes. You pierced your lips together as you leaned back to admire your work. “It’s missing something.” You mumble quietly, before peeking up and pulling out a pair of white lashes from your kit, and he smiles. You let him apply them himself, and with some white underliner, it looks perfect.

You give him some black lipstick, too, but that’s about the extent of what he wants. You give him your old lipstick too, because you and him both know he’s gonna need some re-applying. You watch as he walks over to the mirror, admiring your work - a job well done you’re sure - when he smiles at his reflection and the giddy way you smile back at him through your own reflection.

He pulls you up into a big hug and you giggle as he picks you up and spins you around, before you get him to put you down, smiling from ear to ear at how happy he looks with himself and the work you’ve done. His phone buzzes and he sighs, kissing you softly on the head before heading out, not even daring to put his famous sunglasses on and ruin your work. 

A new memory that’s keeping you sane in these old hotel walls. 

[bagelqaq]

i love her silly little hat so much

[elendsessor]

young man let’s take ibuprofen together :)

[solspurv]

baby, why don't you come over? 💘

[chrisrin]

some doodles of The Sanguine (aka the Second Signless) and his Disciple <3 

based on this fic by @callmearcturus​

[clownwithoutamedicallicense]

procrastinating my theatre hw and realised I forgot to post the first of my poll voted mechs pins!!!

originally wanted to do the lesbian flag as the BG but felt it would be a bit TOO on the nose,,,,,

The "I did NOT end up in an emotionally charged narrative climax where I murdered my father” pin is coming next :)))))))

[hinderr]

Buire and ade

(Parents and children)

[colourofthekites]

[lovejosephquinn]

The sass, the chaos, the loml energy, the way I ripped my hair and kicked the air, speechless, smitten and screaming cya

[jesterjaxx]

you make me want to draw my duncan ships more (djuncan, duntrent, PLATONIC gwuncan, etc....)

DUNCAN SHIPS ON TOP

Theyre so so funny to me

Ough i should draw duntrent...

Also pls draw things i live for other people art (with adhd stare rizz)

[captainswan618]

the way I fully screamed out loud like ten times in a row when I saw her 😭😭😭

like I knew she would be in the episode but I was NOT expecting her to be in the preview image and her beauty took me out of commission skshdbfskdhgf

(also please no spoilers for the episode, basically the only thing I know is that she, Ten, and Nine are in it)

[dreamwatch]

[bi4bisamjess]

The year of the 73rd Hunger Games, Delly Cartwright is reaped first. Her little brother, swallowed by the crowd, lets out a little half-cry. Her father claps a hand over his mouth so as not to scream, and her mother grips his arm hard enough to bruise, hard enough to keep her upright. Delly trips over the toe of her dusty shoes– too big, with just a small heel, and stumbles all the way up the stairs of the stage. Effie Trinket purses her lips, painted spring green, and smiles wide enough to show all of her perfect white teeth. The year of the 73rd Hunger Games, Peeta Mellark is reaped second.

Woot woohoo another fic to post about!! Alternate imagining of the 74th Hunger Games. For those who love Everlark, Peeta angst, and Johanna motherfucking Mason.

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

is he *makes limp hand gesture indicating possession by an eldritch god slowly gaining empathy while his humanity is slowly chipped away by traumatic events and circumstances out of his control* you know?

[gummy-sharks666]

clawing at the walls