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astronicht · 7 months

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whumptober day 4: shock

F1 rpf | max/daniel | Baroque painters AU | 3.5k

From an AU that is the co-creation of @/garage-gremlin

One February in a year that was something like, but perhaps not exactly, 1632, the canals froze in Amsterdam and for the first time the painter Daniele da Ficarra saw a man fall through ice.

It was the winter of what Daniel did not yet know for sure and Max did not know at all would be Daniel’s last year under Horner’s patronage in Amsterdam. In the big cold workrooms which Max and Daniel shared with a small army of assistants and apprentices, Daniel had already laid down on canvas a blank reddish underpainting with his little guiding pinpricks. On that canvas were the bones of a picture that Daniel would complete in the bloom of the coming summer, and then spend years trying to forget.

It was not even that the painting would have Max’s face in it, because Daniel was in fact a professional and had only joked about that. The actual model would be Giuseppe, sent to Daniel from family to keep him out of trouble, which wasn’t working anyway. Max didn’t know Giuseppe, and as of February they had not been introduced. To Max, who only cared to notice studio people and maybe the occasional higher patron if Horner asked very pointedly, Daniel imagined Giuseppe was no one, just a boy Max had seen walking out of their studio rooms once, listening to Daniel and Christian speak with the blank face of a fifteen-year-old who didn’t know or care to learn Dutch or French or English. Daniel had wanted to shake him; with envy or with anxiety or something else.

Max and Daniel had not even been in the studio today; first had come a long meal hosted by one of Horner’s own patrons, to which Horner always required that they come along to look young and surly and promising — Max — or at least pleasant and very famous. After, they’d escaped to one of the loud waterfront pubs Max loved, which had been Daniel’s haunt first but after two and a half years in the city was now solidly shared by Max.

It was very late, certainly late enough that they were lucky that Amsterdam was not a curfew city. Max was talking about something, maybe about the other pub where all the prostitutes had pet spider monkeys brought back by local sailors, maybe about the price of lead white now that the English looked like they were at war again.

“I have to order so much of it, Daniel, to finish this.” He had been given a horde of apprentices and a large canvas and was very nearly done with one of the popular marine cornucopias, where a market table by the seaside would be painted overflowing with larger than life fish, lobsters, sharks and rays. “I hate it. Every day, I paint stinky dead fish.”

“What about the seal?” Daniel prompted, because Max had been enjoying this complaint for months. It was now a comforting bit of familiarity. Daniel wrapped his short cloak around his shoulders, fixed his hat, and sighed at a beer stain on one leg of his loose trousers, right above where they tucked into the boots. “You said she was alive, doing okay.”

“He is a boy seal,” Max corrected. “Yes he is alive, in the painting. The seal I think escapes and goes home.”

“There ya go,” Daniel said, patting his pockets. “Hey, did I have the snuff box?”

“I think it’s in the studio.”

“Huh,” Daniel said. “Well, that’s expensive if not.”

“We can go check,” Max said. “We are of course walking right past.”

They could walk right past the studio when normally they had to go down a ways to the bridge because of the frozen canals, which the city had gone a little mad for. Everyone used the frozen canals as extra market space and extra streets. Even Max loved it, and he had not grown up in Amsterdam; had in fact grown up somewhere else that wasn’t talked about much, because like Daniel’s roots, the Catholicism inherent in Max’s Dutch dialect was a delicate topic. But Max went ice skating with his friends and told Daniel all about it in the studio the next day, his hands sketching the shape of the blades which were strapped over the boot.

Daniel, personally, Sicilian boy that he was, could not stop thinking about how easily the ice became normal. How instead of jogging down to the canal bank and looking around for a passing boat to hail he could just wander along on his own power, the water beneath him a strange new dimension. It made him feel a little like a god in this city that did, sometimes, love him more than anyone else.

“Daniel,” Max nagged. They were spilling out of De Karpershoek into the murky winter night. Snow spat from somewhere, or maybe just blew off the eaves of the houses around them. Towards the harbor, the sea and the sky were one dark space, a wall, an endless corridor to the world that spread out from the Dutch Republic on nervous green water. “Do you want to check for the snuff box?”

“Oh, nah,” Daniel said. His pattens slipped a little on the cobbles. What a fucking place. “I’ll look tomorrow. I think it’s there.”

Daniel followed Max’s determined, slightly drunken progress down the street and squinted into the wind, trying to picture the workroom as he had left it. The snuff box was ivory and nicely carved; the mermaids had made Max laugh. But when he pictured the studio he got caught thinking about the new painting instead. On the canvas of red ochre underpainting and the little pinpricks that meant nothing to anyone but Daniel, Daniel could for a moment picture it all: Giuseppe in the borrowed pair of theater prop eagle wings, the artfully jumbled pile of borrowed and rented things, and the corner of a bed.

He could use, he thought, the bed owned by the divorced woman who Horner and his wife Geraldine had quietly settled in a snug house next to the studio. She would not mind too much; she knew what painters were like.

It would be wild, someday, to look back on how casually he had once thought of this painting, of that bed.

In the studio, Max was already looking for long minutes at the preparatory cartoons Daniel sketched in charcoal on paper. They were beginning to come together with Giuseppe’s face, Giueseppe’s long boyish body which was not Max’s body, but maybe could have been. Daniel wasn’t thinking about it. He knew no one was going to keep Max quietly painting fish forever. He needed to do this now, however was the best, whatever burned the brightest. If that meant— well. Fine. Fine, he had done worse for less, hadn’t he?

The black wind whipped down the street. His mouth stung with ice; it was probably getting in his short beard. “Hurry up,” Max said, switching to Dutch to swear, “It’s fucking cold, shit.”

So they walked home from De Karpershoek, lingering sawdust and chewing tobacco on their boots, and so thoughtlessly crossed the canal ice. And why worry? Winter had been long and hard and made Daniel so homesick he couldn’t even talk about anywhere else in the world, and the ice market stalls were still set up and quiet along the banks.

The sky was thick and so low that the clouds showed the faintest glow from the docksides, where torches burned all night long. Away from the docks it was only gray and gloomy. Max was holding their lantern, and it swung wildly from his hand as they skidded a little drunkenly down the steps to the frozen canal. They stepped onto the ice and the layer of snow atop it crinkled and crunched under their boots. They were speaking about— something, again. Work, probably. Daniel was tired and honestly just wanted the silence of his own rooms, but did not want to leave Max to get it. He hated himself a little for that.

They were nearly to the far bank when Daniel thought that Max had drunkenly rolled an ankle.

It was like this: when Daniel was little he had wanted to follow his sister everywhere. One morning around the feast day of St Thomas she was down at a pond in the heat of summer, catching the small Sicilian wall lizards on the rocks in her cupped hands. Daniel had felt left out. He watched her wade through the shallows to get to the best sunning rocks, ten and tall with her skirt and petticoats and her apron tied up around her hips. Finally he had bitten his lip and stood on a rock and jumped into the pond where it was deep. Michelle told the story the same way every time: she barely remembered it, except that she was not even scared, just furious that Daniel might die. So she reached in and grabbed him by his hair, which was not even very long for a child’s back then, because he had recently been very ill and the doctor had cut it all off to keep it out of the way. And somehow she had hauled him by the hair out of that hot pond, and the same sad death as so many small brothers had suffered, before and since.

Max going down in the water is not as sudden as Daniel would have expected, not like his own little body hitting water and sinking like a small smooth stone. It was like hiking through an unknown marsh, when suddenly what seemed to be soil gave way beneath the toe of a boot and one plunged a leg disconcertingly deep into the water below floating grass. For one moment, almost, Max had simply tripped, one leg through the ice and the other knee slamming down in a way that must have hurt. Max said, “Fuck!” loud and crisp and drunk, as petulantly angry as Michelle had been when Daniel sunk down in the green water. But no one’s sister was here to help, no one’s sister at all, only Daniel— and then Max was there one second, gone the next.

And Daniel was on his knees, hand plunged into the water up to his armpit, his fist empty except for a handful of Max’s hair— as if Michelle had taught him. He hauled up and sideways in one numb motion, like a dream where the night is blurred and brown and the lamp has extinguished itself on its side on the ice and a man can do impossible things like lift a weight as easily as a body falls. Yes: it was as quick and easy as falling, pulling Max out of the ice.

With Max on the surface the night was still gray-brown, the dark lantern was rolling away. Daniel looked down at Max, who flailed against Daniel’s hold, one foot still dipped in the dark water. On hands and knees in some animal instinct Daniel pulled him away by the ruff of his soaked doublet, his hands slipping. Max choked; he had somehow breathed water, Daniel realized. He was not flailing but trying to breathe.

For a minute Daniel hated the cold, hated this place, hated the loud bright pub that he had first shown Max two years ago, with all the fury of real terror.

Max convulsed with something that involved lungs but was not a breath, wet and awful. Daniel was not even breathing fast until he was, suddenly, the moment over and his heart slamming against his gullet, under his tongue, belated and unhelpful reinforcing troops arriving too late for what his hands had just done, somehow, and powerless against Max writhing on the ice now. Max convulsed and curled on his side, and spat up water. He coughed, choked, then breathed too fast, too fast, until Daniel realized Max had started trying to laugh.

“Shh,” Daniel said, “shh.” He made his fish unclench from Max’s doublet, the same fist that had closed hard around what had felt like nothing at all in the numb cold water. Like empty air, but had been Max’s fine hair.

Max grinned or grimaced — impossible to see — and in the gloom his eye teeth and his dog teeth gleamed, and so did his pale face, his water-slick gray doublet, his shirt spilling out from the front of the doublet like guts.

“Oh, that— is— very funny,” he rasped, and then curled on his side like he’d been flung there. He started to shake violently and this time it was not laughter but a shiver, Max’s mouth maybe open against the ice in the gloom. He kept coughing and trying to breathe at the same time.

Daniel’s knees and his right palm were bruised, he thought, maybe bleeding. He couldn’t see in the dark to tell. His skin under his clothes felt like it must look like a ripe purple plum, torn open.

“Come on,” Daniel said sharply. His voice was something alien: a man’s voice, harsh with fear. He tried to soften it, even though he wasn’t sure he should. “Max. Maxje.” Max had gone quiet, just horrible quick shallow breaths as wet as consumption. Daniel swallowed and tried to remember that the worst had been over before his mind was even present. “C’mon, Max,” he pleaded. Tried to laugh like Max; it sounded like shit. “At least two Hapsburgs will murder me if you go swimming right now.”

“And Mama,” Max slurred on only a sip of a breath. He was still speaking their one shared dialect of northern Italian. Daniel could barely manage that some days, his mind always trying to sink back into the comfort of Sicilian. But of course Max always spoke as he meant to.

“Oh, your mother would, uh, murder me too?” Daniel asked, patting him over like a child, looking for where it hurt. Max’s hat was lost, to the water or simply an arm’s length away in the darkness Daniel did not know. “That’s harsh, Maxje.” His hands were cupping Max’s freezing face. Daniel’s left hand ached like he had tried to pull it apart at the joints; his entire left arm ached. For nearly thirty years he had forced himself quite easily to be right-handed, but Max’s hair had been wrapped in his left fist.

“Jesus, you nearly died,” Daniel said.

“Why are you speaking Sicilian,” Max slurred through his clenched jaw, his too-fast breathing. “I did not nearly die.” Daniel’s throat felt hot.

Daniel was on his hands and knees, Max wet and curled on his side like a newborn thing that must be watched to survive the night. That same instinct in Daniel had him crawl off the ice, dragging Max by the ruff of his collar again while Max wheezed and shook and occasionally laughed and slurred, “This is so funny Daniel. Who falls through ice?”

Not you, Daniel thought.

The nearest warm house was one Daniel did not think about much. He concentrated on getting both of them up the steps, when Max seemed to be having some trouble controlling his arms, his legs.

No one answered when Daniel pounded on the door. “I have— of course— a key,” Max wheezed against Daniel’s shoulder.

Daniel had to use the key ring while Max directed, because Max’s hands were too stiff from the cold.

“Shit, no one is— here,” Max muttered when they got in. Beyond the hallway, coals were banked in a grate, but they were so cool that it was only the dark of the house that made their glow visible. “They are I think at the opera. And Greta has tonight off.”

“Fuck,” Daniel said, arms aching. The hallway was tiled in marble. One of Max’s paintings was on the wall, a still life done very cleverly as a nocturnal scene. “Shit, what do you— I’m not from here, Max, what do you even—”

“Too funny. I am going to lay down,” Max said distinctly.

“No, no, nope, you’re getting, uh,” Daniel slung one of Max’s arms over his shoulder and towed him into the foyer of the house. “A hot bath, or something. Really hot. I’ll build up the fire and like— bang on the neighbor’s door. Is the well down the street? What the fuck is with this city.”

Max was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “Daniel, Daniel, it is of course like horses I think. You must warm me up slowly. Slowly.”

Max liked horses. Max, oddly, often knew what to do with small animals when he came across them. So Daniel thought of his own father, after a foaling if the weather was cool and the foal wasn’t doing well, wrapping it against himself inside his shirt and jacket.

Max said, “Go in there,” so Daniel opened a door to a bedroom lined with tapestries to keep in the warmth, a big bed with hangings for the same. Another tidy set of coals glowed in the grate — “Greta leaves the kindling behind there. No, there.” — which Daniel fumbled through building up into a big fire. Max sat down on the floor in his wet things while Daniel did this and Daniel had to get him up and think of nothing, think of pinpricks on fresh red ochre, the base of a painting that was nothing yet. He stripped down to his linens and stripped Max down all the way, leaving Max’s sodden clothes in a pile by the fire like a soaked cat that had crept in to find the warmth.

And there in the bed that was not his, which he also did not think about, he pulled Max to him even though he did not do that, because Max was muttering and blue-lipped and shaking. Max’s hair was still wet, his legs were still wet, and he could not seem to stop shaking where he was lying face-down on top of Daniel, his teeth chattering disconcertingly right next to Daniel’s ear.

“You’re gonna bite my ear off,” Daniel said. Max laughed, for real this time, then coughed a lot.

“Shh,” Daniel said again, mistakenly, because no one was crying.

After another minute, Max slurred, “Do you want— to fuck?”

Daniel felt sick. “Not right now, I don’t think.” Max laughed again like Daniel was making a joke. Max, he thought, had not been making a joke. Daniel ran his hands up and down Max’s back until it felt like he would rub his bitten-down nails raw and bloody again.

Daniel woke blearily to a sound in the hall. Every muscle went rigid. There was of course a reason Max had a key to this house; there was a reason the coals had been left warm in the grates. He felt splayed open, caught, and felt himself start to think, start to panic.

“Mama, in here,” Max croaked from his thin ruined throat before Daniel could do anything but lay there under him. God, under him, holding him. Max’s hair was still plastered wet against his forehead. His body still felt cool. But his wheezing breaths were easier now, Daniel thought, through his own pounding heartbeat, the rising buzz of panic.

Daniel watched like a sinner as the door crept open, the tapestry over it pulling easily to one side. A dark head peered in. She was wearing an evening gown — a black robe, bodice, and petticoat, and a black open-necked chemise with a sweeping soft lace collar spraying gently from her neck in the Flemish style, not the Dutch. Her gray satin sleeves were tied with rose-coloured ribbons. Over this finery, however, she wore a brocade jacket that Max must have given her.

“I have explained to Mama,” Max slurred. He was still speaking in Romagnol Italian, for Daniel. “She is just checking in again, since she thinks I got a chill.” Max coughed, and added like an afterthought, “He’s not here. He has gone to Haarlem tonight, don’t worry.” He did not bother to specify who he meant.

Daniel and Max’s mother’s gazes met, unavoidably. Someone had built up the fire in the grate; someone had laid down three more wool blankets on top of them. Daniel couldn’t look away from her, and she did not seem inclined to look away from him. Her eyes were very steady, and very brown.

Just as silently as she had come, she pursed her lips and closed the door.

Daniel left Max in that house for the morning, but it was nearly pointless: he was back in the studio by the afternoon, looking wan and still cold, somehow.

“It would have been very bad for my career,” Max croaked as they waited for the apprentices to finish grinding pigment, and laughed a bark of a laugh, unconcerned and too loud in the marble walls of the studio.

Daniel hunched his shoulders and packed another coal in the little portable heater on the floor, then another, then another, until its burning belly seemed ready to burst, and Max came up to his shoulder and said, softly, “Stop that, Daniel, I will be cold anyway,” and shivered like he was demonstrating, or laughing again.

—

Sorry if I forgot when the English Civil War was, I was busy googling the cold shock response. Max was like “i am a delicate horse pls do not give me a vascular catastrophe by dunking me (vasoconstricted and experiencing warring cardio impulses) in hot water.” and he was right. Anyway, Daniel/Daniele? short answer yes he is Daniele but he's surrounded by ppl who call him Daniel.

#my fic #whumptober 2023 #maxiel #f1 rpf #whumptober ‘23 #painter AU

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katrinawritesthings · 6 months

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Kibum / Taemin; unstoppable force meets an immovable object ; PG

Taemin texting Kibum asking him to guilt him into taking a shower because he is 5 weeks stinky

He brings one hand up and sneaks it under Key’s shirt to stick his finger into his belly button. ”Beep beep,” he says. Then, before Key can even react to that, he puts his hand back in his lap and looks up again. “Did you want to do my hair because you were having a panic attack about how you think your life is careening wildly out of control again?” he asks blandly.

Key is stressed. He's stressed and disturbed and unsettled and all over the place and a mess. He has so much shit going on in general that he has to deal with and he has to plan for and he has to get over with but there's absolutely nothing that he can do right now at this second. He has absolutely jack shit to do right now and it's stressing him out. He can't not do something. Because when he doesn't do anything then he's not doing anything and he's wasting time and time is money and so he's wasting money and he already doesn't have enough money because capitalism is a burden on the universe itself but that doesn't stop it from dragging him down into the spiraling void of darkness crushing responsibilities that overwhelm him but can't be fixed or helped right now and he can't seemed to calm himself down because it's just him all alone doing nothing and he feels so so so small in a world that's so so so big and he also feels like he can't really breathe and what he really needs is—

From: Gremlin Boi Hey can you guilt me into taking a shower it's been like 5 weeks : (

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” Key mutters to himself as he checks his phone. His panic attack continues but he texts a reply to Taemin anyway (“yeah okay I'm coming over in 20 minutes and you better not be stinky when I get there”) and snatches his bag up from where he left it on the table. This is exactly what he needs. He loves Taemin and his perfect timing. Taemin sends him back a “D: okay thanks” as he's slamming his front door behind him.

This is good. This is helpful. He'll spend some time with Taemin and baby him some and make Taemin buy him dinner and he won't think about everything else in the world and how it's constantly two inches away from crushing him at any given moment. It'll be great.

The next time he checks his phone, it's after he's pulled up in front of Taemin’s house and turned off the car. He has another text, “hey I procrastinated for like 15 minutes but I'm getting in now and I left the back door unlocked for you,” that he reads and rolls his eyes at before leaving the car. He heads up and around the side of Taemin’s house, getting on his tippy-toes to reach over the fence gate and finagle the lock open and then continuing around until he hits the back door and lets himself into the laundry room.

Taemin’s house is dark and smells vaguely like unwashed clothes, like usual, but with a hint of the strawberry scented candle that his therapist gifted him for his birthday a couple of months ago. Key heads to the kitchen and helps himself to a water bottle from the fridge. He keeps going until he reaches the bathroom, where he can see light coming from under the door and hear the shower running.

“Good boi,” he says to himself, and then leans on the wall next to the door and waits. Before too long he hears the water turn off, and then he gives it another minute for Taemin to actually be out of the shower. And then he knocks on the door with one knuckle. “Hey, stinky,” he calls.

“I'm not stinky,” is Taemin’s pouty reply. “Hi,” he adds. Key can hear the tiny smile in that one word just as clearly as he could hear the pout and he grumpily has to fight back a blush. Taemin is too cute for his own good.

“Hey,” he says, and he doesn't really mind that his voice sounds as soft as he feels. “Can I blow dry your hair for you?” he asks. He needs someone to take care of to distract himself from how he can barely take care of himself.

“Yeah, okay,” Taemin says. “Lemme put some clothes on first.” Key hums something in affirmative and resumes his waiting. After another minute, the bathroom door unlocks and pulls open, so Key slips inside and finds Taemin wearing loose sweats way low on his hips, an unbuttoned plaid shirt, and his lazy, sleepy smile that always makes Key stumble over his words. “Hey,” he says.

“Fuck you, looking at me like that, wearing all of that, you're doing it on purpose,” Key grumbles as he steps in and closes the door behind him. Taemin’s smile turns, if anything, even lazier.

“Doing what?” he asks. “Being hot? Because that's just how I am normally.”

“Fuck you,” Key says again, and then, “you feeling okay, Gremlin?” he asks, reaching up to run his fingers through Taemin’s wet hair. Taemin shrugs, lifting his own hand to rub his nose.

“Yeah, just, tired. A lot,” he says. “The usual.”

“Mmhmm,” Key says. He moves his hand down to push gently on Taemin’s shoulder. “Sit,” he demands, steering him towards the toilet. Taemin moves his wet towel off of the closed lid and sits obediently, lacing his fingers in his lap and twiddling his thumbs. “You texted me while I was busy having a panic attack, so, same,” he adds as he backs up a step and crouches down to pull open one of Taemin’s bathroom cabinets. Taemin hums back the same way he did as he grabs the hair dryer and straightens up again.

He jams the plug into the wall underneath Taemin's night light, then gets himself tangled in the cord for a moment before he sets up comfortably in front of Taemin, grabbing his brush from next to the sink. After he turns the dryer on, it's kind of too loud for them to keep talking—for Taemin, anyway, with his sleepy quiet voice—so they just exist together in relative, pleasant silence. Key pushes his hair out of the way of his undercut to dry that off first, just so it doesn't look all scruffy, and then parts Taemin’s hair down the middle like he likes and starts that.

He brushes through it gently, keeping it neat and going section by section, drying it and styling it at the same time. Nothing too fancy for Taemin to grumble about, but still nicely wavy and feathered out at the front, something pretty and cute and light for Key to look at later and be proud of himself. A minute in Taemin closes his eyes, smile tiny on his lips as he leans into Key’s hands and the heat of the dryer like he always does. He talks a lot about being an ocean gay but Key is still pretty sure that if there was ever an animal to describe this little grooming loving, heat craving, smug ass gremlin, it would be a cat.

Eventually, Taemin’s hair is nice and dry, styled pretty and Key feels satisfied with his work. He turns the dryer off and sets it on the counter, fluffing up Taemin’s hair with his other hand and smiling proudly. Hell yeah, he thinks.

“Hell yeah,” he says out loud.

“Hell yeah,” Taemin says, opening his eyes and blinking Key into focus. “can I get up?” he asks.

“Absolutely not,” Key says. He said hell yeah but he is absolutely not finished yet. It was a preliminary hell yeah. “Braids,” he says. Taemin needs braids. Or, technically, Key needs to make some braids. Braids are cute and require a lot of little attention to detail. He opens one of Taemin’s bathroom drawers and pulls out the little case of tiny colorful hair ties that he put in there for days like this.

“Okay,” Taemin says easily. As Key takes a little section of his hair and starts braiding it, over and hold and over and hold and over and hold, Taemin looks up at him with his dark, hooded eyes and a little knowing smirk that makes Key feel progressively more flustered. Scrunching his nose as he ties off the first braid, he squishes Taemin’s cheeks with both hands.

“You're doing it again,” he grumbles. Taemin’s grin spreads so wide that it shows teeth and his tongue bitten between them. He raises and lowers his eyebrows too and throws Key a whole ass wink from less than two feet away.

“I know,” he says. Key rolls his eyes and gathers up another little section of hair to braid. Gremlin asshole boi man. Key is too gay and soft for this. Taemin looks down after a second though, smiling to himself instead, shifting his weight on the toilet lid to be more comfortable. He brings one hand up and sneaks it under Key’s shirt to stick his finger into his belly button. ”Beep beep,” he says. Then, before Key can even react to that, he puts his hand back in his lap and looks up again. “Did you want to do my hair because you were having a panic attack about how you think your life is careening wildly out of control again?” he asks blandly.

Key hesitates for a moment long enough to lose his place in the braid he was making. He sighs as he tries to pick back up where he left off, lips puffed-up in annoyance at how predictable he is.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “sorry for using you,” he mumbles even quieter. He tries not to make it obvious, but he guesses Taemin just knows him too well to—

“Oh, please,” Taemin snorts. He shakes his head, messing up Key’s braid again, and stops quickly when Key narrows his eyes, but lifts both hands to poke all over his tummy instead. “If you're using me, then I'm using you,” he says. Key tilts his head, confused. He's not sure that that makes sense.

“Excuse?” he asks. He quickly finishes the second braid and ties it off before anything can happen to it again. Taemin shrugs, turning his head obediently when Key gently pushes on his jaw so he can get a better angle for a third braid on the other side of his part.

“I asked you to come over and help with my depression and you said yes,” he says. “And then you came over and asked me to help with your anxiety and I said yes.” He uses his new line of sight to pick out a blue hair tie from the case on the counter, wiggling it onto his finger and then holding it up for Key to grab when he's done. “No one's using anyone or making anyone do anything or whatever,” he says. “We're just two pals helping each other out with our fucky brains. You gotta not frame accommodations and favors that people do for you as burdens, dude.”

He says all of that so simply, casually but in a rehearsed sort of way that makes Key feel like he's either said it a lot before or heard it a lot before. Key surveys him contemplatively as he feels up his finger and pulls off the hair tie.

“Did you pick that up off of the street or did your therapist tell you that?” he asks. Taemin shrugs again.

“Jonghyun told me, yeah,” he says. “He's real good at, like, stopping all of that self depreciation shit.”

“Well, that's neat,” Key says, amused. Neat that Taemin is working on that for himself and neat that his therapist has somehow managed to give Key advice through him yet again. “He's probably right,” he mumbles. All of those things that Taemin said make sense, now that he's thinking about them.

“That's why I keep going to see him,” Taemin says airily. Key snorts into the back of his hand. That makes sense too. If his therapist hadn't been doing so well at his job for the past several months Taemin wouldn't keep going back and giving the hospital money every time.

“I'm still proud of you for deciding to go to therapy,” Key says. This time Taemin actually blushes a little bit instead of smiling and looks down at his lap. Key smirks to himself. Oh how the turntables. “It was really brave and I know how hard it was to make that decision for yourself,” he adds casually.

“Okay,” Taemin says loudly, frowning up at Key with red cheeks. “Stop that, stop validating me, you know you're gonna make me cry,” he snaps. Key stays quiet, shrugging his shoulders putting on his best innocent face, but he knows that that in and of itself speaks for him. Taemin stays quiet as well, and then, two little braids later, mumbles, “Thanks.” And then, as Key moves to start a sixth braid, blocks his hand by grabbing his wrist. “Can we go lie down?” he asks, pouting. Key knows that his pout is fake and he's just doing it to get Key to agree with him, but he agrees anyway, nodding and dropping Taemin’s hair. He's too cute always and Key can never say no to him.

He lets Taemin take him by the hand and walk him out of the bathroom, through the house, and into the living room, where Taemin hands him the TV remote before pushing him down onto the couch. Knowing what to expect, Key situates himself in a way where he can be comfortable on his back and still give Taemin room to be comfortable on top of him. He itches to get up and do something, to clean Taemin’s coffee table or do his dishes for him or make food or something, but he's been shut down by Taemin enough times before that he knows not to try. He doesn't feel like listening to another lecture about how he needs to chill and not take responsibility for every little thing that he sees ever. He's getting tired of admitting that Taemin is right.

Instead, when Taemin flops on top of him, he accepts the weight and hooks his leg around Taemin’s calves and an arm around his waist. With his other arm, he points the remote at the TV, turning it on and then flipping through the channels until he lands on his fashion shows. Taemin snorts into his shirt and turns his head to face the back of the couch, slipping his arms around under Key’s shoulders and wiggling to get comfortable. Key pleasantly ignores the judgment of his fashion shows in favor of clicking the volume up.

He does his best to immerse himself in the TV, rather than the moment. He does his best to pay attention to the show instead of paying attention to how his brain keeps nagging at him that he's not doing anything productive. He is being productive. He's being productive for himself, by taking it easy and taking it slow and letting himself calm down and relax. Taemin on top of him is a heavy, comforting weight, a heavy pressure that squishes him down but in a good way, in a physical way instead of a metaphorical way. Being squished like this is way better than when he feels like his soul is being squished by society.

It's hard, but he does manage to do it, eventually, a little over half an hour later. He's also managed to match his breath with Taemin’s, if not his heartbeat, but he'll take one out of two any day. Taemin, for his part, has been quiet the whole time. He's not asleep, but he is dozing, drooling a little puddle on to the front of Key’s shirt that Key can't bring himself to be upset about. What he can bring himself to be upset about is something that crosses his mind while he let it wander for a minute during a commercial break.

“Hey,” he says, lifting one hand to pap Taemin’s cheek. Taemin mumbles back a vague noise and rubs his cheek on Key’s chest to show that he's listening. Key frowns up at the ceiling, thinking. “You know how,” he says, “when you texted me you said it had been five weeks since you last showered?” he asks. Taemin nods with an agreeing little hum and Key frowns harder.

“But,” he continues, “you texted me two weeks ago inviting me to come over so you could lay on top of me?” he says. “You put your three week dirty gremlin body on top of me and didn't tell me you were stinky?”

“Yeah,” Taemin says. Key doesn't even have to look to know that he's grinning and very smug about something. “You said you liked how I smelled,” he says.

“I did not,” Key says immediately, even as the memory of him doing exactly that surfaces in his brain. He scrunches his nose at the ceiling. He did say that he liked the way that Taemin smelled 2 weeks ago. it was familiar and masculine and kind of sweaty and real comforting and—

“You liked it,” Taemin says smugly. “You like my musk.”

“Okay,” Key says loudly. Suddenly he's done talking about this. “Fuck you. Shut up.” Taemin doesn't say anything else but Key can hear and feel him giggling to himself. He sighs heavily and tries to focus back on the TV. He guesses it makes sense that he would like Taemin’s sweaty gross dirty smell. He likes everything else about Taemin anyway.

#taekey #taemin #kibum #key #fluff #pg #oneshot #I just think they're neat #This has been in my drafts for like 5 years lmfao

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captainnameless · 1 year

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Did lando drop after being tired out by physical activity with papa sainz, caco and carlos? He must’ve turn into whiny, clingy, cuddly lil gremlin

pls carlos x 3 would have for sure tired him out.

just:

Lando is still sprawled out on the couch where Carlos left him in favor of taking a shower, face pressed against one of the cushions, scrolling away on his phone. Carlos grabs a drink before he joins Lando on the couch, moving his legs to make room for himself.

“Hey.” Lando whines back at him, twisting so he’s laying on his back instead, looking up at the elder with a gentle frown.

“You need to get up anyway,” Carlos replies, taking a sip of his juice. “You stink, go take a shower.”

“Hey!” Lando says again, this time even more offended as his brows furrow together further, kicking his leg out into Carlos’ thigh, making him choke on another sip of juice. Lando looks pleased, pushing himself up straight. “That’s what you get.”

Carlos snorts, coughs once more to clear his throat then motions the younger over. “Sip?”

Lando suspiciously eyes Carlos up and down, carefully scooting closer. “Don’t spill it on me.” He whines.

“I won’t.” Carlos soothes, bringing the glass up to Lando’s lip. He’s misjudged how thirsty Lando must be, because the younger basically downs the entire glass. It’s Carlos’ turn to

“Hey!”

Lando grins up at him, smile scrunching up his eyes, the flush on Lando’s cheeks pinker than usual. “Sorry.” It’s barely sounds sincere.

Carlos rolls his eyes, pushing himself up off the couch again, pointing an accusing finger at the younger. “Stinky and a thief.”

Lando laughs, loud and honest before reaching out a hand for Carlos to pull him up. “Fiiiiiiine.”

Lando returns half an hour later, long enough for Carlos to have settled comfortably on the couch, two more glasses of juice set on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Lando looks significantly softer, smaller, when he walks up to Carlos, cozied up in soft clothes. Carlos opens his arms, adjust when Lando flops on top of him, burying his face in Carlos’ neck.

Carlos sighs contently, breathing in the smell of his shampoo in Lando’s curls. “Hey Papi.”

Lando chuckles, smiling against the soft skin on Carlos’ neck, uncovering himself to catch Carlos’ eyes. His cheeks still look a bit too flush, sun having caught his skin too much and leaving a slight sunburn behind.

“Hi Papa.”

Carlos pokes at Lando’s cheek. “I told you to put more sunscreen, Cariño.” He hums.

Lando whines, drops his face back in Carlos’ chest and mumbles something incoherently.

Carlos chuckles a bit, wraps both his arms around the younger and presses a kiss to Lando’s curls. “What?”

“It’s yucky.” Lando emerges only to express his distaste of the sticky substance before cuddling back into the Spaniard.

Carlos doesn’t disagree, simply cuddles his boy back, mumbling something about how his cheeks look cute pink anyway.

#littlef1adventures #lf1a.minific

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sweet--sweet--muffin · 1 year

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I cannot believe I love this lil' gremlin to death and I haven't even drawn fanart for him 💀 (at least the ones i haven't submitted, but those are old af and i dunno if still have them lmao)

But anyway, here he is, my balloon bab uwu

I literally don't get this boi's hate like I mean sure, he's an ass but then there's William fucking Afton and y'all are simping for that stinky bastard but then you're giving BB a shitload of hate for some fucking batteries?? Wtf is up with that???

Also, I've always thought that the ship between CB and BB is cute. (And in this house, the animatronics had their own individual personalities BEFORE the kids' souls possessed them and make them go batshit murderous. They pretty much fight for control of their own bodies here.)

FNAF, Balloon Boy and Circus Baby - Scott Cawthon

#five nights at freddy's #balloon boy #fnaf bb #fnaf balloon boy #fnaf sister location #fnaf baby #circus baby #five nights at freddy's 2 #fnaf 2 #fnaf 2 balloon boy #fnaf fanart #fnaf 2 fanart #muffin draws #my art

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probablygoblins · 2 years

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A Comprehensive List of my F/Os

Hello Tumgle.Cum :)

Here, I will document all of my F/Os, and why I decided to wife them up. This is absolutely an excuse to yell about my blorbos, and you couldn’t stop me if you tried. All of this is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of the following characters. Canon can suck my dick :)

Ghiaccio

Ah, my original Best Boy! Husband Prime, if you will. I was barely into JJBA the first time I saw this idiot. I took one look at him and went “Yep, that’s him. He’s the one. That’s my next hyperfixation.” And I never looked back. Did I even know his name at the time? No. Did that stop me from thirsting after him? No. I needed that ice dick like I need air.

First of all, his design is amazing. I love the mostly monochrome design with the pops of red! It looks like he’s wearing converse, which is amazing in it of itself. He looks so cute in his glasses. And the hair? The hair is immaculate. Ghiaccio’s curls make me wanna run around my room banging my fists on the walls and floor and my desk. They look SO SOFT. If I ran my fingers through that man’s hair I would be RUINED. And I know, canonically, he’s always making ugly faces. But I think they’re so endearing. And when he’s not making gremlin faces, he’s so damn handsome.

Personality-wise? That man is the biggest tsundere and you CANNOT convince me otherwise. He is an enraged wet kitten hiding under a box. I am picking him up by the scruff of the neck and holding him as he takes swipes at me. Angey lil boy makes me go doki-doki. Ghiaccio strikes me as the type to be super cold when you first meet him, no pun intended. He doesn’t like to engage, and he doesn’t like to get close to too many people. But if you can get past the icy exterior, he can be so warm and sweet in his own way. His love language is definitely quality time. He’d just love to sit next to me and play games and bask in my presence.

Hol Horse

Can someone say HIMBO? First time I laid eyes on him, I knew. This man is a big fucking idiot. And the further I got into SDC, the more it solidified my opinion. Thing is, I love idiots, and I am also a bit of an idiot, so we’re a match made in heaven :)

Hol just looks so... dusty. A dusty crust man. A stinky ol’ cowboy. Probably a bit older, but has none of the wisdom that comes with age. He has 3 braincells. Two are dedicated to guns and horses, and the remaining one is always thinking about ME >:D His color scheme is really pleasant, and his pants? Exquisite. They may not be assless chaps, but I adore them anyway. And his weird double shirt thing he has going on is charming. And the FUCKING SIDEBURNS. AWOOOOOGA.

Overall, Hol is just so funny and charming. He may be a villain, but he’s a villain I adore. Nothing ever goes right for him, and he doesn’t exactly take it in stride, but he presses on nonetheless. Whatever antics he gets up to never fail to make me laugh. Love me a big goofy, dusty cowboy. I’m always thinking about the good western-style romance we could have. Going on long horse rides together, where one of us falls of and has to rescue the other. Dancing under the stars. Drinking on the front porch and making of fun of each other, dying of laughter. Deep down, Hol’s a big mischievous golden retriever. And he’s perfect.

Prosciutto

I blame @jellyluchi for this one. She exposed me to a hot old man, and I am left to wallow in the consequences of her actions. In all seriousness, I didn’t used to be that into him. I thought he was kinda mean. After consuming way too much fanfic and art of Prosciutto, I still think he’s mean, but now I’m SUPER INTO IT. He is so SEXY and MEAN and DOMINANT and I want him to STEP ON ME with his OLD MAN BOOTS.

I mean, have you SEEN HIM. He’s just so dapper!!! The colors of his suit? SEXY AS FUCK. The ascot? I want to pull it off him, and then I want him to tie my wrists with it. Or maybe tie his wrists with it. Whatever works. The deep V-neck is so fucking slutty, and I can do nothing but stare at those glorious boobies. I love his hair, too. Prosciutto’s hair is so unique. I’ve never seen anything like it, but it’s so pretty. 10/10 Old Man design.

Like I said before, this man is MEAN. He is NOT USED to being emotionally vulnerable, and covers it up by being a dick. He would definitely make me cry a couple times, but he’s so old and rich and emotionally stupid, he doesn’t know what to do. So he just... throws money at me. And I can laugh at how awkward he is trying to apologize. And when he’s not being mean and awkward, he’s so tender. And sweet. And cuddly. He’d wrap me up in his arms and lay me on his chest, telling me how beautiful he thinks I am. And if that’s not what I get in an IRL relationship, I DON’T WANT IT!!!!!!!

Cioccolata

Oh boy... this bitch... another man I got into because of fancontent. If you don’t know already, I am the biggest fattest slut for pet play. It’s in my top 3 kinks. And then I read a series of headcanons about being Cioccolata’s puppy, and it was all over for me. His is moldy and gross and a terrorist. But he’s my moldy gross terrorist.

Idfk what to say about his appearance, he’s just.. mold. His hair looks like mushroom, or perhaps seaweed. He’s hot weird green face paint. His eyes are funky. He wears half a thong. And yet... he just looks so fun. It’s a fun design. I wanna pull on his mushroom hair and call him Doctor~

Cioccolata is a nasty, terrible man. But my brand has sort of become simping for awful terrible men, so there’s really nothing new here. His voice is sexy in both sub and dub. He may be insane, but he’s sexy. And I love when a crazy insane evil guy has their Person(or Persons) that they’re soft for. Just... Cioccolata who’s so crazy and evil in public. He’s still kinda crazy and evil in private, but he’s more of a crackhead than anything. Random headpats. Staying up til 4am watching horror movies. Participating in whatever weird experiments he’s doing, and bantering about it. I love villain love <3

Secco

What’s better than ONE pet play-obsessed thot? TWO OF THEM, OF COURSE!!! I knew a little about Cio before watching Vento Aureo, but I had ZERO INFO about Secco. And as soon as I saw him running around like a feral possum and fucking shit up, I knew. That’s my soulmate.

Secco’s design is pretty simple, all things consider. You only ever see him in the suit, but the suit is honestly... kind of sexy. What little we can see of his face is big and fucked up. But I LOVE big fucked up eyes and hyper-detailed teeth. Like, sir? Sir??? Please bite me. I need it. Without the suit, I think he’s just a fairly skinny, pale dude. He’s probably got a lot of scars from Cio doing experimental surgery on him, but he’s a freak and he’s into it. I’m a proud part of the Blue Hair Secco Cult. He has indigo hair and it’s messy and curly and falls down his neck and it’s FUCKING HOT.

I love the duality of “acting as a man’s dog” and “striving to be better and important”. He’s a fucked up little guy. He’s feral and loves to go crazy and tear shit apart. But he’s really smart in his own right, and probably has trouble articulating it, cuz he’s so used to being a dog. But he loves letting go and being a little creature. I’d love to just lose all my inhibitions and go batshit with him. I wanna wrestle with all night long, and get dirty in the garden. He loves to do stuff with his hands. But he’s also happy to just sit next to each other and draw. And I love that.

Hazamada

So... uhhhhh.... hmmm... *sweats* I just... I saw a really good piece of art of him, from before Araki babygirlified him. Not, like, BUFF Hazamada, but just a real cool-looking, skinny alt Hazamada. That was it. That was all it took. I am weak for greasy alt boys. Don’t look at me.

Hazamada is literally juts Some Goth. He looks like a wet greasy napkin. Hasn’t slept in his entire life. Spends all his time watching anime and drawing fucked-up questionable shit. But, y’know? That’s part of his charm. I love the sleek glossy black hair. His coat looks badass, and his stand is super cool. There’s not much to his design, but I love it all the same. Dumbass Edgy Alt Hazamada supremacy.

He’s just so weird and unhinged. We didn’t get a lot of him in the series, and what little we got was rather violent. But we love that for him. Love me a fucked up little guy. Fucked up little weeb men own my heart. I HC him to be kind of depressed, and with deep-seated anger issues from loneliness. He needs a hug. Therapy, mostly, but also a hug. And I am happy to hug him and inhale the smell of paper and ink. I just know he’s an artist. Draw a lot of surrealist art, and scenes from his favorite anime series. I’d love to sit and watch him draw and talk about nothing for hours. And afterwards, we can binge watch his favorite series, and I can watch how his eyes light up at the climactic scenes.

Mikitaka

EIRIAN, ANATA NO EIIIIIRIAAAAAAN!!!! God, I loved Miki from the first episode he showed up in. He’s so weird. And so very Gender. Clueless Non-Human is one of my favorite tropes. Sometimes he’s a little awkward, but aren’t we all? And I would absolutely eat the ice cream made from his fingers.

LOOK. AT. THIS. MAN. He is TOO DAMN PRETTY. The hair. The eyes. The nose ring connected to his elegant ears. I could swoon right now. All the charms on his outfit are so well-designed, and I’ve taken the time to study each of them. My favorite flavor of Miki is in the Super Fly episode where his hair is all curly. HE IS JUST. SO. PRETTYYY!!!!!!

And oh my God, he’s adorable. He’s so sweet and awkward. He just wants to make friends and do the right thing. He’s not quite sure how to act just yet, but he’s doing his best. Whatever he does, he puts his whole heart into, and I admire him. I could teach him so many things and take him so many places. Get him a milkshake. Stargaze with him. Tell him about Earth constellations while he tells me about the stars he recognizes. Pet dogs with him. I want to show him everything and watch him grow.

Keicho

Hehe... well, I did say I liked terrible men, didn’t I? But I’m a slut for a redemption arc, and I WILL make it happen. WATCH ME. I honestly fell for him watching the live-action DIU movie(which you should totally watch btw). Not because I like Actor Keicho. I actually think he looks kinda funny. But that got me thinking about how cool manga and anime Keicho were. And, well, now I love him. So that’s that.

His design actually isn’t all that cool to me. He looks like a dork. But who’s gonna teach him how to dress? His dead mom? His weird goblin of a dad? It’s not his fault he looks like a goober. The ‘BADCO’ logo on his collar is a nice touch, though. Oh, and DON’T get me started on the hair. His hair is a disaster. Wtf is it even supposed to be??? Keicho. Sweetheart. Love of my life. Please go outside. Look at a normal person. DO YOUR DAMN HAIR LIKE A REGULAR GUY.

Keicho’s personality shown in the series isn’t what really draws me too him. It’s the potential hidden in that personality. Imagine if he got to live and had to deal with the grief of all the death he’s caused. And knowing that there’s still part of his dad left in what DIO created of him. He thinks he’s a monster, and perhaps he is. But he doesn’t have to stay that way. He needs a good mix of comfort for his mental and emotional wounds, and a kick in the ass for his arrogance and stubbornness. But I think he could come back. I’d hold his hand until he could walk confidently on his own, and even after that.

#self ship #self ship community #jojos bizzare adventure #jjba headcanons #f/o imagines #my f/os #f/o stuff #ghiaccio #prosciutto #hol horse #cioccolata #jjba secco #mikitaka hazekura #toshikazu hazamada #keicho nijimura #jjba stardust crusaders #jjba diamond is unbreakable #jjba vento auero #GoblinsWrites

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alister312 · 1 year

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Sup alister my buddy pal chum it’s pitch and I’ve been having some Corey lanskin brain rot and I wanna know about your thoughts/headcannons on him, Gregory, and Christophe as a silly lil trio cause yes they are goddamn madmen

PITCH YOU HAVE COME AT THE MOST OPPORTUNE TIME BC I’VE ACTUALLY BEEN THINKING ABOUT COREGSTOPHE A LOT LATELY

firstly— Corey thoughts/headcanons:

Corey is a bit younger than the other boys, I think about the same age as Dougie. Because of this, he feels a bit alienated from the rest of them (not quite in on all the same growing up experiences) so he’s very sardonic in everything he says and does, twelves layers deep in irony. This does alienate him further usually but he LIKES being a little shit (or so he says). He’s a lot nicer and more genuine when talking through a screen, funny enough, which is why his closest friends are those he games with. Corey spends most of his free time streaming (he has a Twitch channel— it’s unsuccessful) or doing freelance coding/hacking gigs. That boy is terminally online. He’s got the worst fucking posture and bags under his eyes and greasy-ass hair <3 go shower stinky gamer boy

now specifically when it comes to him, Gregory, and Christophe:

Neither Gregory nor Christophe is very technically adept. Christophe finds the minutia of coding unrewarding and therefore frustrating while Gregory hates the impersonal nature of technology. They used to ask Kyle to help them with stuff but Kyle’s busy with his own life so they ended up working with Corey instead. This turns out to be really good because Gregory and Christophe are very insightful people who can see through all of Corey’s bullshit and meet him at the same level of sardonic wit (and lowbrow humor in Christophe’s case). Corey and Gregory often have debates about real world issues and politics but Gregory teaches him how to have a real, civil debate (not like ones in twitter threads). They also appreciate having a fellow Brit around, though Corey mocks Gregory for having a posh accent compared to his Cockney one.

Corey and Christophe get along especially well, both of them kind of enabling the other’s gremlin behavior. Gregory keeps them from being absolute menaces to society but they do like to just dick around and do stupid shit. Corey teaches Christophe how to properly roast someone online and Christophe gets Corey outside for once in his goddamn life. He brings Christophe on his Minecraft stream at one point and Christophe spends the whole time talking about dirt and digging techniques. Additionally, they bond a lot about smoking but Corey weens himself off of it using lollipops and eventually convinced Christophe to do the same. Gregory privately thanks Corey for that a lot— it’s something he’d always wanted Christophe to quit but could never get through to him about.

And while I do love the idea of all three of them possibly together (the order of that being first gregstophe, then corstophe, then coregstophe), I do also LOVE the idea of Corey being the ultimate third wheel to Gregory and Christophe’s relationship. In that case the three of them have these sorts of vibes:

anyways thx for coming to my ted talk on why everyone should love minor character corey lanskin and thank u pitch for giving me the excuse to write it all down like I’ve been wanting to do for a while

#yelling screaming i need more content of him in the world don’t even get me STARTED on my insane lanskov or corary (corey/gary) ships either #south park #sp headcanons #corey lanskin #gregory of yardale #christophe delorne #gregstophe #coregstophe

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thefinalvoid · 1 year

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What were your thoughts of s3 !!!! Who's your fave !!! I like the comics your doing for it 2 :}

Im not gonna lie im here for moomin and snufkin content and?? The mountain ep?? Ashdghsjsgshsj?????? Amazing incredible 10/10 also the ending of s3? I ? ??????? Listen here listen to me i study narrative structures okay and the writers are giving me fucking whiplash okay let me know if you want the full analysis of what the text and subtext is saying because. Its not being very straight to the point (hehehehehehe)

Anyway.

Snork? Autism creature. 10/10 incredible outstanding. I hope we see more of him !

Little my stays winning i fucking love her little gremlin. Stay toxic stay winning. 10/10 she deserves to say fuck

Stinky is. Stinky. 0/10 garbage boy.

Tooticky said hey im here to be cryptic and nothing else 9/10 her only flaw is not being here more.

Thats just what i have on my brain at i should be asleep o'clock

#im not going 2 sleep tho. im do not want to

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godkilller · 2 years

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out of character. Something that really irks me sometimes is when people hate Gin for lame-ass reasons. Like buddy, pals, there’re perfectly good reasons for you, the writer, to hate Gin as a character -- and plenty of reasons for your character to, in character, hate Gin as a person. Don’t be lame. Here’s a list, I’ll even help y’all out:

The way he talks is ridiculously stupid and he needs to stop.

His fucking face. That smile. The squinting. What the fuck. Dumbass.

He’s ugly. Gross. Slime.

Cut off Jidanbo’s arm solely to make a dramatic entrance.

The ‘bye bye’ shit is so annoying. Fuck off, what are you, twelve years old, Gin?

Rukia describes Gin’s aura as literally the most unsettling thing. Garbage boy. Stinky.

He was probably ready to kill Momo if Izuru didn’t step in. Whatta nasty man.

He was probably ready to kill Toshiro if Rangiku didn’t step in. Ma’am why do you put up with him???

He was directly linked to leading Momo to Aizen for the stabby stab (version 1) and stood there in the background like a gremlin whilst Aizen made his big bad reveal through her chest cavity.

He had Izuru run Rangiku around like an errand dog and probably told him some lie to keep them both busy whilst Momo’s heart (and chest cavity) was being broken.

Didn’t give a fuck about Toshiro running in and getting his ass kicked by Aizen, sir that’s child neglect and abuse.

Rukia bridge scene. End of.

Almost made a Kuchiki kabob on Sokyoku Hill.

Audaciously apologized to Rangiku like that somehow made anything better.

Lurked instead of intervened when Tousen threw his tantrum and stripped Grimmjow of his arm and rank.

Changed the Corridors so Rukia met up with Kaien 2.0 and received more trauma.

Cut Hiyori in half when Aizen definitely could have just batted her away on his own. Unnecessary evil.

Did all this bad guy shit but then refused to even assist Aizen, mr. Bad Guy Himself, whilst the entire Gotei 13 sought to fight him. Brat behavior.

Wasted Ichigo’s time with a dumb quiz about his Zanpakuto’s Shikai and Bankai. Sir, there’s a war going on and he’s a little preoccupied with trying not to die and let everyone he knows down. He doesn’t care how long Shinso can get.

The dumbest sword ability by far is a shooty shooty sword that extends. The dick jokes are endless. Why are you so fucking stupid. Everyone else’s Bankai is cool and your sword just turns into a long pool noodle that defies physics.

Backstabbing bastard x2.

COULDN’T EVEN FUCKING KILL A SINGLE PERSON IN THE ENTIRE SERIES DESPITE THAT SHOOTY SHOOTY SWORD HAVING A ‘KILL’ COMMAND AND ‘GOD-KILLING SPEAR’ TITLE, HOLY FUCK YOU’RE USELESS.

Died and it meant nothing, for literally no reason, because he’s irrelevant. Dramatic bitch.

Anyways, I hope this helps!

#[ out of character ] masquerade; hide your face #stinkiest man.

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dawndelion-winery · 2 years

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Worlds Apart

SAGAU! Joining your team<3

Ft. Diluc, Kaeya, Dainsleif, Childe, Zhongli, Scaramouche

Diluc:

Look at you, dragging the winery master around Teyvat to complete quests and commissions

If it were anyone else, he'd probably excuse himself, preferring not to get involved

But since it was you asking,,,,

He doesn't regret taking that leap of faith on your standard banner, his face almost flushing when he heard your excitement at getting him on your team

"I'll take good care of everything, traveller," he promised softly, knowing you'd never hear him anyway.

Does he ever not crit? He tries his best, hoping it'll be enough for you to keep your eyes on him and not bench him for a limited five-star

One of the most reliable mains you could get and honestly? He's the designated responsible adult of your team

Even his non-crits have hella sexy numbers, doing those big digits to bring home the bread for you<3

You see that lil wink every time he ults?

Yeah, he's just proud you're relying on him to carry the team (pls don't bench him) Mans will incinerate all the enemy mobs if that's what you want from him

Kaeya:

One of the first on your team, he was a little worried you might get bored of him

Which may or may not have led to him sending his constellations your way on the standard banner

He's honoured you still want him around and does well to show all your other characters that he's earned his spot on your main team

A little reckless, but that's the fun of it, he always settles the problems he starts anyway

Anything to remind you just how useful he is to you

Every time he calls you a slacker he chuckles as you get frustrated with him knowing you can't hit him

Which is another reason why he sent his cons your way - so he'd have a shield for when you made him stand in fire out of spite

Dainsleif:

He's been waiting ages

Watching you gather characters, warmly welcoming each one, he could only watch from the sidelines waiting for the day it was his turn

He knows he has lots of competition with the many characters in your archive, but he's not quite as excitable as Diluc when it comes to impressing you

He gets the job done, and the longer you keep him on your team, you just might start to see a teeny little smile on his face when he's idle for too long

He likes remembering your reaction to pulling him

That's not to say he doesn't want you to be impressed with him

Let's just say that if he ever feels his position in your team is threatened,,,he just might have to vent those worries on the mobs you fight AND remind you just why he's your DPS once again

Childe:

Awful bastard, comes home shockingly early when you're pulling for a four star on his banner and now you're stuck with a ginger

He's so smug about it too

Which he really shouldn't be since he never crits

But then his non-crit numbers are pretty decent, so you figured it couldn't hurt to keep him around

WRONG

Awful, awful stinky gremlin, he annoys your entire team by bragging about how much you love him

You can't even be mad because it's not like your pity was high enough for him to ruin anything

You benched him once and suddenly it turns out he knows how to crit the next time you give him a chance

That's right, asshole, you'd better crit

Zhongli:

Your team is in safe hands once he comes home

*slaps jade shield* This bad boy can take so many hits

He never shuts up with his idle lines, but really, he just wants to talk to you

It's a mere misfortune that he can't speak his mind with you, being left with programmed words he can only repeat

But he'll take what he can get with you

He was ruthless during the archon war, and even now that he's mellowed out for the most part, well, that gentleness only extends to you and your team

But mainly you tho

It might have something to do with how he made you go broke pulling for him and ascending him but hey, it's a pretty fair trade, right?

Scaramouche:

Terrible. Just straight up refuses to come home.

We're talking maximum pity. 180 pulls and even then you weren't sure he was coming home simply because he's that stubborn

He's such an ass like that but at the same time, once you've hauled his obstinate ass home, he's such a good unit

He's surprisingly versatile, then again that could just be because he's that petty that he just has to be your best character

He will do bigger numbers than your DPS and then bully said DPS to tears for not doing their job well enough

"What does the traveller even see in you to make you the DPS, huh?"

Please have an emotional support character in the team or Scara will emotionally destroy them all

He does a good job though, acknowledging your effort in bringing him home, so he'll make sure you get his signature weapon in your first ten pulls as a little thank you

Also as an incentive for you to build him better

Taglist[send an ask to be added]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @altair-ation @teyvattherapist @euphoric-author @paradise-creator @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @serenenation @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @howlantic @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @stunningstratagem @yuezhong

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anenbylittlepotato · 3 years

Text

MC introducing roasting the bros to new exchange students

Side dateables here

"The scary looking guy there is Lucifer. He seems like a dick at first, and you will eventually learn, that he is, actually, a dick. He hasn't really stopped. But he's got enough moments of being nice and soft that he gets a pass I guess. He's also fucking gorgeous so I think it's excusable. But, just a heads up, don't piss him off and almost get killed by him twice as I did. I almost died. It was terrifying. And also hot. But mostly terrifying. Also, he acts like every fatherly figure that's ever been in my life! Emotionally absent, makes shit up to accuse me of, reacts to things with violence, prioritizes how I make him look over my mental well-being, and lectures me for three hours over something small! Hooray!"

"The guy over there that looks like the biggest fuckboy ever is Mammon. He is the CEO of getting bullied. He also might try to steal your wallet, but luckily he's a fucking dumbass, so he'll probably fail. Probably. He always gets in trouble because he has literally no impulse control, which is honestly a mood. He can't keep his mouth shut for the life of him, and it always makes Lucifer very angry. But at least he won't try to kill you, unlike some people. He might threaten you but he most likely won't follow through with it. Actually... I don't think I've ever seen Mammon get angry enough to hurt anyone... I... Huh... Wow... Anyway, he's also simultaneously incredibly clingy while also being the biggest tsundere ever. Which makes no sense but okay."

"The guy that's sulking over there with his Ruri-chan phone case is Leviathan. Honestly, you'll probably only ever see him at meals because he pretty much never leaves his room. Unless his limited edition Ruri-chan body pillow just came in. Then expect to hear him screaming as he rushes across the entire house faster than you'll ever see him move otherwise. And then he'll be panting and wheezing as he walks back to his room because that boy is out of SHAPE. He's also the biggest weeb ever if you couldn't tell. Biggest anime nerd ever. Seriously, he has an unhealthy obsession. He needs to go outside and touch some grass or sumn like fr. He also makes a great gaming buddy. Unless you're playing PvP and aim to win. But otherwise, great gaming buddy, we play Genshin Impact together a lot."

"The guy watching cats videos over there is Satan. He may look like a chill guy, but that's just what he wants you to think. He's actually a ticking time bomb and the pure, unbridled rage that hides beneath his facade could bubble over if you so much as look at a cat the wrong way. However, if you are a cat - or any animal, really, but specifically cats - he will love you unconditionally. He's also very big-brained. The biggest brain. If there's literally anything you need to know, just ask him. He'd be happy to show off how much better than Lucifer he is. He's also the living embodiment of daddy issues and teenage rebellion. He's probably unironically said, 'It's not a PHASE!'"

"The pretty boy taking selfies and putting on makeup over there is Asmodeus. That man is whore KNEE, like DAMN. That man would flirt with anything that moves tbh. He's also the living embodiment of 'Gotta look cute so they forget you don't know basic math.' He's a little creepy because he's not against incest and that's a little icky. But hey, if you want a [REDACTED] then he's your guy, I guess. He's also got all the tea because he is a gossip QUEEN. And he's practically obsessed with himself. He needs to go outside and touch some grass too. 😔"

"The guy over there that's knawing on a vintage candle is Beelzebub. Uh, can someone get that candle away from him??? I don't think he should be eating that. Oh, thanks Belphie. ANYway, now that that's over uhh, as can see, he really likes to eat. A little too much. He eats everything in the fridge on a regular basis 😔. But like, he's literally the bestest boy??? He may be a demon, but he's just so sweet and soft-hearted, and caring??? Like bro??? I would literally die for him??? Unless you eat his food, then he'll kill you. Instant death. One hit KO. But otherwise, he's basically a giant teddy bear. Big wholesome boy, too pure for this world."

"The My Chemical Romance lookin fucker over there is Belphegor. Don't let him out of the attic..................................... Anyway, he is an evil gremlin man. Horrible goblin man. Stinky bastard man. He bullies me >:( Also, little known fact, but he is actually not a demon but, in fact, a cow. Cowboy. Also, he does not know how to function as a person, and, instead, opts to sleep for 17 hours a day which... Fair enough with this family. Just don't fuck with Beel or he'll kill you. And so will I >:( Also, don't fuck with him either or Beel will kill you. Those two are basically two peas in a pod. The literal only way they could be closer is if they were Siamese twins."

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me shitpost #obey me belphegor #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me headcanons #obey me writing #obey me shitposts

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artemisia--hq · 3 years

Text

This prompt is from @kittensocute ‘kageyama and hinata are stuck on a ferris wheel ride’

(*ﾟ▽ﾟ)ﾉ

—————————————

When one thinks of amusement parks, games and rides, and generally a fun, happy time instantly comes into mind. This, however is decidedly not fun. This is a nightmare, a weaving of pure fear and terror, and Tobio swears if he ever manages to get out of here alive, he is so going to—

“Aaahh! Ahh! We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!”

“Stop yelling, dumbass!” Tobio yells. He rubs his face with both of his palms when Hinata still wouldn’t stop screaming like a banshee. “Death is gonna be the least of your concern because I’m gonna kill you first if you don’t! Stop! Yelling!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense!” Hinata cries, “and you’re yelling, too!” He serves Tobio a stink eye, or as stinky as he can possibly muster with his ashen face and trembling lips. Tobio just returns the glare a hundred-fold, and that seems to do the job of shutting the idiot up as he looks away with an obnoxious huff.

But the sudden silence only gives way for Tobio to marinate in regret, recounting every action that had led to the disaster they’re currently in.

It was supposed to be a fun day in the amusement park, and it did start out that way. The first and last time Tobio had been to one was years ago, with Kazuyo-san and Miwa for his tenth birthday. It is one of his most treasured memories that is completely unrelated to volleyball, the only time he had fun without it.

But spending it with his friends (and yes, that includes that bastard Tsukishima, however mortifying that concept is), had been admittedly fun, too. They were all together during the first hour, playing games and getting into every ride they could. But he and Hinata had been pre-occupied with one-upping each other with a shooting game and before they knew it, their friends were out of sight.

It was Hinata’s idea to ride the ferris wheel to look for them. Now they’re stuck in a cramped, glass-covered carriage for fifteen minutes.

“This is why you don’t get to have any dumbass ideas, you dumbass,” Tobio grumbles out loud.

Hinata bristles. “Wh-what?!”

“This is all your fault in the first place.”

The other boy lets out a disbelieving gasp. “You’re the one who said, ‘oh yeah. Good idea,’” he says in mock imitation of Tobio, flattening his hair as he does so.

He’s not wrong, but Tobio can’t give Hinata the satisfaction of being right, either, so he clicks his tongue and looks away.

Silence once again engulfs them.

Tobio gazes through the glass of the carriage to take his mind off of certain things that’s been circling his consciousness like incessant, annoying flies, things that shouldn’t be given permission to reside in his thoughts.

Getting stuck a hundred feet above the ground is bad enough as it is—getting stuck with the worst possible person just makes it a hundred times worse.

Tobio risks a sideway glance out on the corner of his eyes. Hinata has his arms around himself, as if he’s purposely trying to take up as little space as possible. Which is a weird concept to wrap around—as small as Hinata is, his larger than life presence could more than fill up a room, with that beaming smile and loud, cheery voice.

But Hinata is none of that presently. He looks quite pale, wide eyes darting around for every creak and squeak of the ferris wheel carriage, small hands clenching and unclenching the sleeves of his sweater. The most frustrating thing of all: he wouldn’t stop chewing his lower lip, now looking red and swollen and just so ki—

Tobio has to give himself a few mental punches in the head to wrench his attention away from it and to clear his thoughts.

See, this is why he absolutely shouldn’t be alone with this orange-haired gremlin. He gives Tobio horrendous ideas.

“K-Kageyama?”

Tobio’s body temperature drops to subzero. Fuck, was he caught staring? Was he too obvious? He should run—wait, no, fuck, he’s trap, he’s done for—

“Wh-what?” He snaps, anger immediately acting as a reflex.

Hinata flinches, then he sighs, looking down on his feet. “Never mind.”

Something twinges in Tobio’s chest. God, why is he so…taken with this stupid idiot. “What is it?” he asks, cutting down his tone, just a little.

The other boy still has his eyes cast down, squirming. “Uhm…”

“Out with it, dumbass.”

Those round brown eyes squeezes tight as Hinata blurts out, “Canyouholdmyhands?”

Tobio sputters, “Wh-what?”

“Can you hold my hands, please!” Hinata yells, extending both of his hands like an offering.

Okay, either he has completely lost his mind, or Hinata has.

He goes for the more convenient option.

“Are you crazy? No!” He whips his hands behind him, for good measure. “Why would I?”

“Because I’m scared and my hands are cold!” Hinata grouches, and for a second, he has every intent to fight and demand for it, like he always does, but then he deflates and slumps on his side of the carriage. “I-It’s fine. That was weird, anyway. Sorry.” He then proceeds to hug himself again, shrinking within his sweater.

Hinata has never looked so tiny and vulnerable.

Tobio’s mouth starts to open when the carriage suddenly sways and groans on his hinges. Hinata screams and Tobio is already lunging forward even before his mind could even process things, and his hands grabs onto cold, clammy ones, fingers intertwining tightly.

“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die, Kageyama!”

“Sh-shut up! That was just the wind!”

“I-I don’t want to die, Kageyama!” Hinata wails, tears pricking on the corners of his blown, shaky eyes. “I-I still have to be good in volleyball! I still have to beat you!”

Tobio has never seen Hinata this distressed before, or even this legitimately terrified. He’s always been a scaredy-cat, but never like this. Tobio shuffles closer, gripping their joined hands. “No one’s going to die, so stop screaming.” He gives another reassuring squeeze, and it might be instinct or reflex, but Hinata squeezes back. “I won’t let that happen.”

Hinata sniffs. He blinks his glossy, golden eyes at Tobio “R-really?”

Tobio nods. “Yeah.” He hears some commotion from below and he presses his face on the glass. “Look, they’re doing something about it now.” He turns to face Hinata again. He could go in for a smile, but he figures that would only scare Hinata more than comfort him. “We’ll be out of here in no time, so just…think about something else.”

Hinata shakes his head frantically. “I-I can’t. There’s nothing in here that can distract me!” Then his gaze lands on their entwined hands. “Except, maybe…this.”

“Yeah, well…if that helps,” Tobio murmurs as he stares at their hands, too, before stalwartly looking away. If Hinata finds comfort in that, Tobio, on the contrary, needs a distraction of his own away from it. He settles at looking over the glistening lake dotted with tiny boats shaped like swans and turtles at the distance, but all of his nerve endings seem to concentrate on the point of contact between the, feeling each ridge and bumps of those rough, calloused hands wrapping around his own. Yet, they’re also unbelievably soft, if that makes any sense. Hinata just seems to defy all rules of the universe, from his jumps to the feel of his hands.

They are a bit sweaty, though, which is kind of gross. But Hinata being gross is not an entirely alien concept to Tobio, so whatever.

“Your hands are really warm,” Hinata says suddenly in genuine awe, as if he doesn’t mean to say them out loud.

Tobio’s hands are not the only ones getting warm—he can feel the back of his neck and his ears prickle with heat. “And really big. And your fingers are super long.” Hinata adds.

Tobio is half a mind to withdraw his hand and pocket them into safety, if only to keep them away from scrutinizing large eyes and to save himself from spontaneously combusting. But it does seem to calm Hinata, so it’s a risk he just has to endure.

He faces the other boy—the whole distract himself thing isn’t really working, anyway. “Obviously, dumbass,” he jibes, “I’m bigger than you everywhere.”

Hinata just nods, then he’s silent for a moment, before whispering, “Is this weird for you?”

“What, that I’m bigger?”

“No, stupid,” Hinata says with a roll of his eyes. “I meant, this.” He gestures at their hand, lifting them and letting it drop in the space between their knees.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” Tobio says, although he’s not really sure if he’s saying that to Hinata or himself. “You’re the one who asked for it.”

Hinata shrugs. “That’s different. I didn’t think you’d be up for it.” When Tobio doesn’t answer, Hinata sighs. “I-I mean, you normally do this kind of thing with…you know…” he trails, his pale cheeks quickly rising in color, eyes looking anywhere but at Tobio’s face.

“No, I don’t know,” Tobio says.

Amber eyes finally locking with blue ones, Hinata says in the softest voice, “You do this kind of thing with the person you like.”

“I do like you.”

It must be the work of altitude and oxygen and all the science-y stuff Tobio never paid any attention to in class because it’s the only logical explanation why his mouth decides to run off without his brain. He resists the urge to face palm himself hard enough to propel himself into the next dimension.

Hinata, understandably, stares at Tobio like he’s grown an extra head plus a tail. “You—like—what?!” he screeches, face and neck dousing in crimson red, and Tobio figures, he’s faring no better. “Y-you like me?!”

“I-I meant as a-a friend!” Tobio stammers, shouts, whatever. “As a friend and—and teammate! Dumbass!”

“I-I know that! I-It just surprised me!” Hinata shouts back, even as his face burns even deeper, redder than the sun settling behind the mountains.

Then he snickers, quickly turning into a full-on laugh.

“W-what? What’s funny?” Trying to sound demanding is hard when Tobio’s heart is lodged in his throat and with his entire body on fire.

Hinata snorts out a giggle, then he’s smiling at Tobio, radiant and flushed and—

Beautiful.

Here, trapped in a cramped, musty enclosed glass a hundred feet up in the air, Hinata—his rival, his partner, and if it isn’t obvious enough, the guy he’s been crushing on for months, looks achingly beautiful.

“Well, that makes me happy, because I like you, too!” Hinata exclaims.

Tobio has never really understood the expression ‘on cloud nine high,’ but he’s pretty sure this bursting feeling within his chest must be pretty damn close.

Then the beaming smile turns into a teasing smirk. “Even though you’re sometimes mean and violent and calls me dumbass more than my own name.”

And Tobio can’t help it, he smirks right back. “Dumbass.”

Their nonsensical argument of who likes who continues until the ferris wheel starts to turn and move again, continuing even after their feet touch the ground, as they zigzag their way among the crowd in search of their friends.

With Hinata’s hand still clutched over his.

—————————————

Thank you for indulging my request (begging) for a prompt! I have to apologize, though, this is not as good as I’d like to be, but it does help me ease out of my writing slump. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless! ^o^

You can also read it on ao3 (with minor edits)

#fanfic prompts #kagehina fic #kagehina #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #kagehina fluff #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #artemisia writes #kagehina fanfic

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

thank you for the dog hcs, Nat!! we have been having a great day! my dog is a greyhound and thinking about walking him with Gojo, just two happy long bois out for a stroll, is making me especially soft now 🥺 And I guess I really need to go read the light novel too~

i read it here! the third story (fables from the dark) is mahito centric, it also explains where he got his hammock and just has some fun and interesting characterisation things (mahito seems to love to read! he watches movies! he didnt wanna stay in the office block everyone else did bc he thought the interior design was tacky! it explains that his sewer is full of domestic sewage that’s already been purified so it isn’t as stinky as we may fear. he has read the lord of the rings. anyway i know mahito is a horrible gremlin but i kind of love him).

the first story is about having a Day Out In Tokyo and features yuji, megumi and gojo going to a maid cafe, the second gojo-and-nanami, the fourth is about ijichi and is honestly really interesting (lots of stuff about the admin of the school/jujutsu sorcery) and the fifth is about yuji. they’re really fun!

GOJO AND YOUR GREYHOUND BEING HAPPY AND LONG . . . anon that is so cute. gojo has got all of the energy in the world and would love playing with your dog in a big field!

#nat.txt #jjk posting #Anonymous

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viktorfm · 4 years

Text

(MAXENCE DANET-FAUVEL, NONBINARY) - Have you seen VIKTOR SAMUELS? VIKTOR is in HIS/THEIR SENIOR year. The VISUAL ARTS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say HE/THEY are OBSERVANT, INGENIOUS, RETICENT and DEPENDENT. Rumors say they’re a member of KINCAID. I heard from the gossip blog that THEY'RE HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH THEIR THERAPIST. (JAMES. 21. EST. THEY/THEM.)

dont. look at me. i know. anyways if it wasnt obvs i abandoned cupid (n darrow) in order 2 bring the two ocs tht he ws inspired by n ws a combination of bt. theyre better as different ppl methinks.

DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS TW

aesthetic.

old tvs and their static, worn tapes, horror movie screams, spilled ink, a sculptor’s hands, clay-stained, chicken scratch handwriting, messy notes, messy hair, scoffs and eye-rolls, bruised knuckles, sore throats, funeral homes and a crying preacher, shattered ceramics, knife fights, high ledges, vertically-striped pants, red lights, the moon shrouded in clouds, cigarette butts, graveyards and half-empty wine bottles, sitting there for hours and talking to nothing, about nothing, a god complex, gold rings adorning both hands, barbwire baseball bats, having never played baseball in your life, deep eyebags and broken mirrors, a permanent chip on one’s shoulder, yearning, longing, wishing.

basics.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - january 2nd, 1996

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: preaker, vermont

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

favorite song: disorder, joy division / it’s getting faster, moving faster / now it’s getting out of hand / on the tenth floor, down the back stairs / it’s a no man’s land / lights are flashing, cars are crashing / getting frequent now / i’ve got the spirit, lose the feeling / let it out somehow

background.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in preaker, vermont - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

was an awkward, quiet kid growing up, he didn’t interact well with others and preferred being left alone to dig up worms and draw on the walls of their childhood home. the only exception was his twin, really.

as he got older he grew out of this, but instead became like … sort of an asshole? maybe to compensate for years of childhood awkwardness. he’s the sort of person who will bite the hand that feeds him & developed into a full time nuisance by middle school, unlike tatiana who was much more subtle about her conniving manners.

always has been a fan of ‘darker’ materials. grim & creepy morbid shit. probably the biggest tim burton fan, ever since he was a kid … not a good look for a preacher’s son, but he never really felt ‘in’ with the rest of his family to begin with. classic black sheep syndrome.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

being twins with tatiana was hard. they were near opposite besides both being quite mean-spirited. tatiana handled being in public better, left a better image behind - but viktor had talent, more than she did. they loved each other deeply - y’know, those unbreakable twin bonds as cliche as it sounds - but found each other as competition for their parents’ attention. a rivalry for affection.

in high school is when viktor really started to act out. it started extreme, like losing his virginity in their church and vandalism around the neighborhoods. faked being possessed in the middle of sunday service & almost had an exorcism performed on him.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3d art ap course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

because he was the problem child, the one who deserved to be disciplined for all his antics, tatiana could sneak away and get away with whatever she wanted much easier. on the bright-side, for her, i guess.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to yates but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

he’s actually pretty smart but he just doesn’t apply himself. has a minor in english because he didn’t care for an extra course-load, but he’s good at writing & analyzing literature. is going to use it to write and illustrate his own series of children books with a style similar to tim burton’s. not for the kids, but because he likes to leave a trail of terror in whatever he does.

has been experimenting with himself since high school but college is where he really had started to crack down on himself. was out as pansexual & nonbinary by his sophomore year of college just … not to his parents, who don’t really need to know.

if you asked him if he believed in twins having a psychic connection with each other - he’d tell you he wouldn’t know. it felt believable at times, but sometimes he had no idea what was going on inside of tatiana’as head. on the other hand - viktor had always felt oddly transparent to her, like she knew all of his moves before he did. the only person who could predict him accurately.

( tw death, grief, overdose / hospitalization beyond this point )

when tatiana disappeared, viktor knew something was up. it was a twist in his gut, pure instinct that something wasn’t right. and it wasn’t right - and when she was proclaimed missing, they couldn’t find her.

and when tatiana died - viktor knew. it felt wrong, something cut so severely in him he could pinpoint her death to the second. he didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it. knew it before anybody else had.

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

his mental health had also sunk to an all-time low, when it’d never been great to begin with. (manic & depressive episodes. once fixated on a sculpting project for six months and then knocked it off the table and destroyed it as soon as he finished it for no apparent reason.)

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to yates to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

personality & facts.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

a big horror & halloween enthusiast. loves the old campy horror movies & probably has an abundance of masks from different movies. dresses like a grimy millennial beetlejuice more than they should because they just … love those black & white vertical-striped pants.

can appreciate the ~urban legends~ at yates and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

fashion alternates between e-boy (they would be tiktok famous if they were 17 & didn’t think that a majorly minor based app was weird.), millennial beetlejuice, and goth in a crop top & sweatpants. big fan of crop tops and a big fan of sweatpants.

they can be really fucking mean? petty, aggressive, a major instigator. will literally spit in your face for little to no reason, you could just look at them the wrong way. the kind of person who will stick their gum into someone else’s hair. other than that? they’re like … sort of okay. they’re not always mean, just a dick about 90% of the time lmao

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

pansexual & nonbinary, switches between he & they pronouns often and without a pattern, but they have such a fragile grip on their identity that you could call them ‘dog-faced bitch’ and they’d turn around like. sup.

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all their money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

they’re very super dramatic. would play the organ at church when nobody was looking after them and service was about to start. would just churn out these super haunting, creepy melodies like they were phantom of the opera. would do the same exact thing at home on their keyboard with the pipe organ setting whenever they got grounded until their parents took it away hbdsjfngkh

will absolutely not talk about their ‘time away’ because it’s not anyone’s business, not even their own younger sister. still refuses to talk about tatiana’s death, or their mental health, or their addiction (fallen back into it but it hasn’t gotten severe … yet :/), or anything involving their own emotions.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

that being said they’re absolutely not over tatiana’s death & it’s to the point of obsession over it. like there’s some kind of secret that needs to be uncovered, even though there just. isn’t. tatiana was their rock and they were pretty much dependent on her. kept them grounded. could control them when nobody else could, got into their head easier than others. it’s sort of like rosa lost two siblings that day because viktor hasn’t been the same since.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

will tell you straight up what they want from you, no bullshit & no beating around the bush. just blunt. if they want to fuck, nothing else, then that’s it. if they feel deviation or developing feelings then they’ll ghost in less than a second. is awful like that but feels no shame.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

they go to therapy but they just fuck around and wastes their therapists’ time … also is fucking their therapist, but that’s neither here nor there. so they’re not really getting the help they need.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a twig but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

i don’t know if there’s a good to them somewhere deep down, but they don’t see any issues with themself either. nothing really breaks through to them anymore because the only person who ever made them stop and think about their actions was tatiana, and well, y’know. :/

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

pretty observant and likes to analyze people even though they’re often like … partially wrong. judgmental because they like to make people feel bad, not because they’re a righteous mighty person. because they’re not. so like, a hypocrite!

wanted connections.

religious trauma? oh worm ;; three cheers fr <3 guilt <3 anyways uh. just people tht viktor hs known thru the church in some way even tho hes a fkn. freak now. maybe even family friends.

the horror of our love :/ ;; hmm. any romance tht cld b toxic i think this cld fit. just rly a bad fit. viktor doesnt rly know hw to love so nothing rly lasts bt. maybe they try n try n nothing works bt they keep trying. cld also just be anything unrequited.

little fkn gremlins ;; theyre all evil n mean. bt theyre all friends. <3

you are nothing ;; uuh. enemy plots. spicy enemies. rly bad enemies. rivals. they r brutal towards each other bcos nothing viktor does is ever soft.

fuck u dont pity me ;; uh. people who try to get close to viktor n he just. bites at them. he’s like no. bc he assumes ppl who r kind in response 2 his vileness r. theres smth wrong w them. n it might hv to do with pity. n he hates pity.

ugh. locals x ;; ppl who also grew up around preaker, vermont. the samuels r <3 well known folks n the uh. hm. the murder is an ongoing case. so they cld know abt it <3

dont tell anybody x ;; this is for soft plots. i dont know much about soft plots but.

maybe i am part of the problem ;; the problem is chlamydiagate. this is a hook-ups connection. fwbs n one night stands. ppl viktor hs brutally ghosted. he doesnt acknowledge their existence outside of these events, perhaps.

dont u just wna go apeshit ;; this is where viktor becomes a bad influence.

bt uh. anything. pelase

#yatesintro #death tw #grief tw #murder tw #addiction tw #drug abuse tw #hospitalization tw #overdose tw #hypersexuality mention #religion mention #zooweemama

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viktcrr · 4 years

Text

「maxence danet-fauvel & nonbinary」⇾ samuels, viktor, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that he/they are a capricorn and 24 years old. he/they are studying visual arts, living in noland and can be observant, ingenious, reticent & dependent. when i see him/them i am reminded of a sculptor’s hands clay-ridden, the insistent hum of tv static, and a crying preacher inside a dusty funeral home. ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

hllo !!! i’m james n here’s one of my big idiot muses <3 he’s not actually dumb he’s :/ a bit evil. bt thts okay hes still <3 beloved <3 LKDSFHLSADLKGFSHLKD anyways!

TW DEATH, HEAVY GRIEF, OVERDOSE / DRUG ADDICTION, HOSPITALIZATION, HYPERSEXUALITY, RELIGION MENTIONS, MENTAL ILLNESS

aesthetic.

basic info.

full name: viktor phillip samuels

nickname(s): icky vicky :/

b.o.d. - jan 2nd

label(s): the black hole, the crepehanger, the impious, the opaque, the tempest, etc.

height: 6′1″

hometown: rochester, new york

sexuality: pansexual uwu

stats

inspired by: beetlejuice (beetlejuice), sid (toy story), jack sparrow (pirates of the caribbean), francis wilkerson (malcolm in the middle), azula (avatar: the last airbender), vicky (the fairly oddparents), stu macher / billy loomis (scream), marshall lee (adventure time), bojack horseman (bojack horseman), any it’s always sunny character :/

biography.

born to mama and papa (preacher) samuels in rochester, new york - fifteen minutes after his twin sister, tatiana samuels. years later, rosa samuels joined the gang.

drew disturbing pictures as a kid that probably prompted one or two or five phone calls home to assure everything was fine.

just really had a knack for art at a young age, from drawing to painting to playing with clay. it’s always been his Thing and probably is the only thing he’s good at.

his only redeemable trait was like … just his sheer talent in the arts. was in a 3D art AP course and specialized in sculptures. he could pretty much create anything he wanted with enough dedication.

not a very motivated person - wasn’t planning on going to college, much less going to radcliffe but his parents literally wrote & sent his college application for him because they weren’t going to house a deadbeat but had too much heart to kick him out onto the streets. cool!

( TW DEATH, GRIEF, OVERDOSE / HOSPITALIZATION BEYOND THIS POINT )

afterwards he went on a sort of bender. he’d begun to struggle with a mild drug addiction late senior year of high school / early college, but he was managing it up until this point.

tatiana’s body wasn’t found immediately, and when it was … viktor went off the rails. ended up overdosing & being hospitalized. spent six months in & out of psychiatric care after that.

came back to radcliffe to finish his senior year because … for the reasons above, he hadn’t been able to complete it. just wants to get his credits and get out of here.

is still dealing with a lot of trauma & grief, especially since the one year anniversary of tatiana’s death was this month (january) - causes him to spiral and be unpredictable in regards of his mental health. he stopped taking his medication, so. :/ some days are alright, other days are pretty bad.

UPDATE: now that summer’s come n go ... viktor hs been thru <3 a lot <3 recently. switched therapists (his :/ last one got her license revoked) & started new medications, went to a treatment center briefly ‘cos .. he wasn’t doing too well :/ bt now he’s back baybey! trying to be better n trying to be sober but ... :/

personality.

the human embodiment of a gremlin that was fed after midnight. a goblin, if you will. one of those cats with a narrow head and really big ears … that’s them!

can appreciate the lore & cryptids at radcliffe and likes to feed into the fear that surrounds them. is probably the cause of a few ‘anomalies’ and ‘paranormal sightings’ because they’re just … a jerk.

like okay yeah they’ll call someone a stinky bitch for no reason except they feel like it and believes it. it’s fine, they’re fine, we’re fine.

despite the fact that they’re probably getting into a fight whenever, considers themself to be a lover and not a fighter but that’a primarily because they fuck a lot. uses it as a coping mechanism, like they’re this big fancy carnival show that’s like ‘come one, come all! fuck the dead girl’s twin brother!’ and it’s … a Lot. might have a problem with hypsersexuality but they’re not fully aware of it.

the preacher’s whore son, basically :)

vastly impulsive … like i said, they destroy their own creations for the fun of it. spends all teir money on useless shit, will cheat on someone because they feel like it & likes the thrill, screams into the night sky frequently like a cat in heat.

will also spend months creating useless shit for no reason too. spent six of them sculpting a hollowed out tree the size of them & then took a sledgehammer to it.

will just change the topic abruptly, no warning. asks about the jonas brothers instead and they fucking hate the jonas brothers.

emotionally unavailable while also crying twice a day. cries during their brawls but still wins. is stony-faced when they tell you they cheated on you with your much hotter best friend.

but also emotional as shit and it’s confusing. will cry on a whim and then flip you off if you try to console them or ask them what’s up. will bite you.

likes to be intimidating but not … with their body or anything because they’re a TWIG but uses their love & knowledge of horror and creepy shit to their advantage. has an abundance of fake blood. has channeled the energy of jack nicholson and used it on tatiana’s boyfriends before (also is a big fan of sfx makeup & has dabbled in it)

probably chases kids around with a chainsaw without the chain on halloween every year.

generally never doing good, both mental health wise & morally. would probably steal candy from a baby for funsies.

an introverted reclusive type who doesn’t like most people or going out, but does so anyway if it means a quick high & a cheap thrill.

wanted connections.

a roommate… but it’s an absolute nightmare to live with him.

enemies… because viktor would have a lot of them…

familiar faces… people who knew tatiana or of her / were her friends. maybe even those who dated her, and who viktor would’ve tried to intimidate / scare at any given chance :/

pitiful glances… people who take pity on viktor and he hates it sooo much.

hooligan gremlin kids… just a friend group of grown ass adults who do drugs and fuck shit up around town like they’re edgy teenagers.

high school girlfriend… probably the one he lost his virginity to inside his family church :/

childhood acquaintances… people who knew him from his youth.

exes… good & bad terms, but mostly bad terms because viktor is an actual demon. probably cheated on them.

soft… i don’t know if he’s soft towards anyone and/or is capable of it but we can try. we can try.

unrequited… either viktor just doesn’t like them or he’s holding back because he’s :/ got issues with relationships & is self-sabotaging as one does

enemies with Tension… of the … spicy kind if you know what i mean. wink.

friends… old friends, new friends, bad friends, good friends, close friends, frenemies, etc. i don’t know how many he had but if your muse likes to cause a ruckus and fuck shit up then viktor’s your man.

hook-ups… current or old. friends with benefits, one night stands, anything and everything because he fucks around a lot.

ride or die… friendship but make it extreme.

bad influence… he’s just toxic to be around and brings out the worst in people :/

bad egg… he’s gotten into a few fights :/ maybe you witnessed it. maybe you were in it.

literally anything i wld love all sorts of plots.

#ruhqintro #death tw #grief tw #drug abuse tw #addiction tw #overdose tw #hospitalization tw #hypersexuality tw #religion mention

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