Cordelia trying to flirt: do you👉👈 want me👀to read something for you?😳or maybe you want to 👉👈play ...chess?🙊🙈 *I hope it didn't sound like I'm an obsessed fangirl god that's so embarrassing😭*
Vox won the hottest Hazbin Hotel character poll on twitter against Lucifer in the final round and I can't stop thinking about it I love my pathetic TV Girl he deserves it
I loved the first commission so much, I couldn't resist ordering another one as a parallel of sorts! This lovely drawing is by @toktopus-art. It's based on a scene from Chapter 26 of my vamp!Eddie/Steve-gets-Vecna'd fic, laughing at the broken glass.
Scene excerpt is below, and the AO3 link to the fic is on my pinned post.
Steve wished they could just stay like this, but there were only two more songs left on this A-side.
“Hey, can I see your bracelet?” Eddie asked. If not for his all-too-casual tone, Steve wouldn’t have suspected anything.
“Pulling out all the stops, huh?” Steve asked wryly. Eddie flashed a shameless grin at him. Chuckling, Steve tugged his sleeve down before lifting up his wrist. To his pleasant surprise, the glow-in-the-dark effect was actually noticeable. Eddie took a moment to share in the admiration of the bracelet before grabbing Steve’s hand and tugging it down.
“This is better, yeah?” Eddie asked.
“Huh?” Steve turned to look at him again, but Eddie was staring straight up at the sky.
“Than just sitting in your car in the freezing cold by yourself, I mean.”
“I had Freddie Mercury with me.”
“I’m serious.” Eddie finally turned his head to face Steve again. His expression certainly matched his words. Steve couldn’t help but tense up at the shift in tone, though he was swiftly eased by the way Eddie’s thumb brushed across his knuckles.
“I...hate that you even have to ask.” Steve managed to smile, even though Eddie frowned at that. “Yeah, this is better.”
One song left. It wasn’t fair.
you’re 15 and you’re so, so angry at the world and your friends (…?) are moving on from you and so you kill your friend, the only real one, the only person who understands you, because she’s on your side so she’ll come back, right? of course she will.
except she doesn’t. she sticks to her guns - she always has. you don’t know why this would be different.
Just thinking about being in his bed, absolutely sticky and a little gross, post sex bliss in full effect as you lay there trying to catch your breath. He saunters back into the room with water and a towel to help you clean up cause he’s such a sweetheart. As your pulling one of your T shirts over your head he just starts blabbering on about the intricacies of whatever game he’s hooked on right now and you can’t help but giggle a little to yourself that this is the man who had you folded over, crying and screaming his name not 10 minutes ago.
something something you're susan pevensie and you've decided that you will live again no matter the fact that you've done this all before. you decide that if you are to be in exile, there can be use and joy in making it work.
you're susan pevensie, and when you look at your siblings you see broken tools shoved into jobs they are not made for. your older brother is nothing more than a sword forcibly blunted, rust-red and sacrificial, a means to an end brought to ruin between gunfire and shrapnel pieces. your younger brother forgets to crave sugar like they want him to, forgets that he cannot speak sense to adults lest he be branded ill-mannered and dangerous. your sister seems like a tear in the landscape, so utterly alien, so unfitting, to the world that birthed her that you can't bear to look at her anymore.
something something your siblings yearn for the forge that broke them beyond repair, and all you can find within them are the ways they were molded to never belong to themselves again, the swords and salvation of a place that shaped them into things never meant for eternal use.