PSA

Day Five: Haunted House

*

“And… there!” Lance sits back to admire his work. “Wow, you look really scary.”

The actor smiles at the makeup artist, thanking him before getting up to go get into costume. The Cuban smiles, dabbing his brush onto a cloth before sliding it into his makeup bag and zipping it shut. That had been his final actor. All of the people for the opening night of the haunted house were all made up and he was free to roam the park.

“It’s funny to me that you’ll do this, but you won’t watch Saw with me.”

Lance turns, looking over to see his boyfriend leaning on the doorframe of the dressing room. He smiles, looking over his beat up leather jacket and the braid Lance had managed to weave into his hair before his shift (with minimal grumbling, of course).

“There’s a difference between making people look like a monster and watching a movie about a psychopathic serial killer.” He quips.

“It’s still funny to me that you took a job at a haunted house. Of all places.” Keith snorts, pushing off the wall and walking over to help Lance with his bags. “You jump at shadows.”

“I’m creating these shadows. There’s a difference!”

“Uh huh,” Keith presses a kiss to his cheek. “Come on, let’s go. I lost a bet to Pidge and now she’s making me get my face painted.”

“I could do it.” Lance offers.

“Nah,” he shoulders the makeup bag. “She wants it to be embarrassing, and you’d make it pretty even if it was embarrassing.”

“This is true.” Lance laughs, taking Keith’s free hand and squeezing it. “Why do you have to get your face painted, anyway?”

The Korean’s cheeks heat up, his ears going slightly red. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“You lost a bet to Pidge, of course I’ll laugh at you.” He chuckles.

“Fair enough…” Keith grumbles. He chews on his lip for a moment before he huffs. “We went into the kids haunted house across the way, and… I got scared.”

“You… got scared?” Lance raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well… the deal was that we had to keep a straight face the whole time. And everything was fine! Until this kid bumped into me and I freaked out.”

The Cuban swallows a laugh. “And what was this kid dressed like?”

Keith deflates. “A puppy.”

“Sounds like you really deserve that face paint, babe.” Lance teases, swinging their arms. “C’mon, I wanna help pick what it is.”

“You guys are so mean to me!” Keith whines, trudging along beside him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles, leaning up and giving him a kiss. “You brought this on yourself. Let’s go.”

The two walk hand in hand toward their friends, the haunted house at their backs and Lance’s endless palettes of makeup and brushes clacking together in the bag. Keith grumbles about the injustice of unforeseen circumstances and backstabbing best friends. Lance tightens his fingers around Keith’s hand, smiling and shaking his head.

Oh man, if only Keith knew that Lance had taken this job so that Keith had an excuse to go to the scream park every night. He was pretty sure that his boyfriend might keel over from the sheer amount of joy. So Lance kept that little part to himself, simply enjoying Keith’s juvenile happiness at the proximity to his favorite holiday. It was well worth designing scary characters and painting them into existence every single night.  

New fic incoming!

Guess what!! 

After a million years (back to my hetalia phase... geez I’m old), I’m finally writing a multi-chapter fic! The name of it is gonna be State of Broken Things, so if you end up liking it, look out for those tags!

I’m trying my hand at Sheith, which should be interesting, and it’s a slight murder mystery/horror type thing? I have a basic outline of things up until the middle, but I think it’ll be somewhere around 12 chapters? Maybe more? I’ve written the first chapter, and it’s about 3k, so it’ll definitely be longer than any of the short oneshots I’ve been writing. It’ll be up by tomorrow at the latest! 

Once I post it, please, let me know how you like it! Tell me if you have ideas! I love to hear from you guys, it’s always so nice. I look forward to sharing this!

I just watched a kid break down in the bookstore because his books for the semester totaled $600 and that’s the american university system in a nutshell

This is a Moving Forward PSA for everyone using AO3. I am witnessing the results of a culture class and communication failure. Not a lack of communication, but a misunderstanding caused by changes in fandom culture.

Before fic tagging was common, fics weren’t tagged. You had a pairing, if applicable, an author’s note about genre or general content, and if they were feeling charitable, a vague content warning. There are even a few genres of fic where even vaguely tagging literally spoils the plot and impact (such as horror, psyche thriller, in which the likely content is implicit to the genre). As a result, there is a basic category tag that permits this, as a courtesy to “old-fashioned” writers.

“No Archive Warnings Apply” means the fic is PG13 at worst, probably fluff, totally safe.

“Choose Not to Use Archive Warnings” is the polar opposite. It’s a glaring Enter at Your Own Risk billboard. It means: a shitload of warnings apply but I ain’t telling because this story requires shock value. It’s very important to read the author’s notes for those fics because they might be using that older format from above.

But without the context of fandom culture that generated AO3, it’s understandably easy to conflate the two categories, given their similar wording.

Love that everyone wants omegaverse, however my writing picked vampires when i opened the doc, lol. Omegaverse to come soon!!

You can find vampires here.

Happy reading! ❤️

How about the ineffable husbands finding out about Beelzebub and Gabriel’s relationship? :D

This was honestly so much fun to write, I hope you like it!

*

“Are you kidding, angel?” Crowley snorts into his drink, lounging lazily on the sofa in the middle of Aziraphale’s beloved bookshop. “Beelzebub would smite him before he even got close to her.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The angel hums, shelving a couple books he had almost lost to a potential buyer that afternoon. Of course, Crowley had interfered and scared the boy away with his antics. 

“You’re out of your mind.” The demon snorts, tipping back the last of his drink and wiping a hand over his mouth. “Lord Beelzebub loves nothing and no one. Well, except maybe those damned flies.”

“I never said anything about love, my dear.” Aziraphale chuckles, shaking his head and going over. He nudges Crowley’s legs, sitting down beside him and sighing when his lover sets his gangly limbs into his lap. 

Crowley considers this. “Well… I guess they’d probably be fucking. That seems more likely. Hypocrites, the lot of them.”

“What else are you expecting, my love?” He sighs heavily, patting his legs. 

“S’pose you’re right, angel.”

*

One afternoon, Crowley comes hurtling into the bookshop like, pardon the irony, a bat out of Hell. He slams the door, jostling the poor little bell, and leans against the door. He looks as though he’d seen Jesus Christ in the flesh.

“Aziraphale!” He hisses when the angel pops his head around a bookshelf to see what the commotion was all about, a reprimand on his lips. 

“Really, Crowley, must we go over the slamming doors lecture every month?” A very put out angel sighs. 

“Forget the door, angel!” He rushes over, hovering over Aziraphale as he leans up on his tiptoes to pull a book down from the shelf. 

“How am I supposed to forget every time I have to replace a glass pane or a chipped bell?” He huffs, shaking his head and reaching for another book. 

Before he can grab it, the demon grabs him by the wrist and whirls him around. The books tumble to the floor. Aziraphale’s eyes widen as he’s pressed back against the shelves. “Really, dear, at least let me close up shop…”

“No, I- Angel! This is important!” 

“Oh, alright then, what is it?”

“I saw Gabriel kiss Beelzebub.” He hisses, his eyes glinting intensely behind the rims of his glasses, which had been knocked askew in his desperation to get his angel’s attention.

“You…” The angel takes a moment, letting this all sink in. “What?”

“In the park!” Crowley stresses, shaking him by the arms. “By the duck pond!”

“Alright, okay! I believe you, dear, you don’t need to shake the life from me.”

The demon releases him, brushing his suit off sheepishly. “Sorry…”

“Are you absolutely sure that you saw them and not another couple who looked similar to them?” Aziraphale says carefully, noting the crazed look in his lover’s eyes.

“No, I- Oh, bugger it all.” He hisses, snapping his fingers. Instantly the shop begins to close itself. “Come with me, you’ll have to see this yourself.”

Crowley whisks Aziraphale off to the park with him, back to their normal bench. “There!” He hisses, pointing to a couple a few hundred yards away. 

Sure enough, it was the infamous Archangel and the Prince of Hell herself. They were leaning against the railing, watching the ducks. 

Gabriel was bent forward slightly so he could talk to her easier, his hands shoved in his pockets and the button of his suit jacket undone. Beelzebub was lounging against the railing, peering down at the pond and talking to him. She had forgone her usual attire for one of his dark grey shirts tucked haphazardly into a pair of worn out black jeans, her hair piled onto her head and stuck through with what looked to be a thin knife.

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathes, his eyes as wide as saucers. He leans forward to get a better view, but Crowley yanks him back. 

“They’ll see you!” He whispers fiercely. “We have to be sneaky…”

“Right, of course.” 

*

“Oh, look, the biggest idiots in all of Soho have finally noticed.” Gabriel snorts, setting his hand on the railing beside Beelzebub’s arm, trapping her with his body. 

She hums, sliding her gaze over to them before turning around and looking up at him, giving him a wicked smile. Her slim fingers wind around his tie, effectively wrinkling it. “Shall we give them a show.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Gabriel teases, just before he’s tugged down sharply into a surprisingly gentle kiss. Beelzebub lifts her free hand, flipping off the pair not-so-secretly watching them.

That ought to get their point across.

I'd like to know!

What are some charities you like to support?

Hey guys!

So I’ve taken up doing this thing at least once a month where I take a percentage of my income and give it to charities I want to support. My only thing is - all of the ones I’ve seen that I like or want to research on Tumblr are buried in my profile.

So what’re some charities that you like or would like to promote? Reblog or send them in!

Kudos to fanfiction writers for writing about all the trauma and emotional and mental turmoil that the original content creators dont acknowledge when putting characters through hell

“You good?” Sevika asks, and Vi barks out a laugh.

“Oh yeah. Fucking peachy.” She says through grit teeth, then sucks in smoke harder than was necessary to avoid elaborating.

Sevika leans her shoulder against the wall beside Vi, looking down at her, expression unreadable. There was a bruise forming in the shape of Vi’s knuckles on her jaw. Lucky shot. The only real hit Vi had managed to get in.

“There’s some girls at Babette’s who can’t do penetration either,” Sevika offers, and Vi bristles.

***

Vi has some old wounds that never healed. Sevika likes to pick at them. They find a way to start healing them together.

***

I debated posting this here. Trigger warning for rape, panic attacks, ptsd, and violence.

Guess who’s world-building! I need help from all my readers in regards to my new Refraction au, so ask away! Anything and everything is accepted, no matter how crazy it may be.

You can find the fanfic here.

I look forward to your asks!!