Listen.

Listen.

I know I'm greedy as heck, but I just love Ikevamp guys so much. But like... All of them. At once. I even like MC. And I desperately want to love on them so much..

Anyway, do y'all have links to any MC/everyone fics? Need me sum 'o those.

I'm begging you.

Thanx!

Waaaaah, I love them both the same, you can't just make me choose!

I concider myself a huflepuff, but every test says I'm a ravenclaw, so do what you will with that.

okay i’d like to see something so help me out here

dear fellow weasley twins lovers/self shippers reblog this post (or reply but i’d prefer it if you reblog so more can see this) and answer these two questions: which twin do you prefer and what is your hogwarts house?

i’ll start: george and hufflepuff

Thank you so much! This was so adorable and hilarious, the image of big demons like them being wary of such a cute little bastard...awww. But maybe if I promise to keep him in my room, I could get away with it (it’s not like I let my pet rats anywhere but my room) :D

Hi! I jad this cute idea, what if the brothers' s/o had pet rats? Would the brothers interact with them and how? Would they be disgusted? I'm really curious about your take on this one ^^

Imma be honest, my first immediate thought to this was Barbatos and his fear of rats 😂😂😂

THE BROTHERS reacting to MC owning a pet rat

Lucifer: 

He’s ashamed to say that he did indeed lose himself for a moment. He did not scream or anything of the like, but he did jump a little and you will bring it up in conversation all the time, to which he gets frustrated and like a pouty twelfth year old, but that’s not the point. At first, his fear was that Beel left some kind of animal bone out that somehow, although unlikely, had a piece of meat left and somehow, someway, the House of Lamentation got infested by rats. However, upon further inspection, it turned out to be your pet rat, and although it is an unusual pet, he decided not to say anything because he does also own a three headed dog, after all, and that would just be hypocritical. 

Mammon:

Hahahahahahah. Okay so here’s the thing. Him? Not afraid. He doesn’t care. He calls you out and weird for it because why a rat? But he also sees great potential here, seeing as a lot of people are afraid of rats. Besides Barbatos, Leviathan really doesn’t like those critters either and Mammon is sure to use that to his advantage to bribe Levi out of money. Whether or not you condone does absolutely not matter, because he’ll just sneak in and steal the rat when he wants to or needs it. Mammon might be the reason you won’t have a pet rat for much longer. 

Leviathan:

He is NOT a fan, but he’s also not a wimp. A manly Otaku if you will. So yes he screamed when he first saw that thing and yes he was about to summon Lotan to take care of it but no he would hurt your pet, are you crazy??? He’s just uhm… what if he eats the food? What if he eats Lucifer’s very important papers? You should really have better eyes on that thing, MC ! 

Satan:

Oh the rat won’t survive for long. Cats kill mice, but Satan kills everything that crosses his path, especially if it’s in close proximity to one of his books and it could potentially nibble on the pages. What was that? It’s your pet rat, MC? A cold shiver runs down his spine as he realizes his mistake. Listen… he may or may not apologize but he will definitely get you a new one… with a cage because he can’t have any of his books damaged, love. 

Asmodeus:

Screams. Jumps on the nearest high surface. Begs literally anyone to kill that thing. When you show up, he begs you to step away as he tries to collect himself enough to play hero, but he will only scream again when you pick him up. “MC! That thing has diseases!” Don’t hold it up to him either because he might actually cry and or die of a heart attack. He can NOT handle that for the life of him, and he won’t. Please, MC, find a new pet.

Beelzebub:

Lolololol, you’re cute if you think that he won’t try to catch and eat your pet. You’d be lucky if you find him before Beel swallows, and the giant will look quite sad if you stop him, “beel…. Spit him out. Now.” He pouts but slowly lets him back out, releasing a wet rat back into your hands as he apologizes. He just looked so delicious, MC! And normally people don’t keep them as pets so.. He thought he was free, game you know? 

Belphegor:

This is kinda cute because he befriended your pet rat and everytime you can’t find him, you know he’s with Belphegor, all snuggled up. You still haven’t figured out how he gets your rat to be so still and the first few times you were genuinely scared that he was dead, but he somehow always woke up when Belphie woke up so you assumed he just put some kind of spell on him. “It’s your rat and when you’re not there to cuddle, it’s the next best thing.” You felt your heart swell at his confession, watching him put the rat in his hoodie to chill. 

Don't mind me, will need this later

I don't know how accurate some of these are, but they can be useful

Art p.1

Pairing: Vincent van Gogh x OC

Summary: Vincent meets the weird kids of Clone high - the poets.

Warnings: teenage awkwardness

A/N: I started watching Clone high ironically, but got too invested and so I am going to try and soothe my mind from the ending and my favourite character having little to no screentime by creating an OC. Enjoy and tell me if you’d like to see more of them!

Lunchtime at Clone high was the only time Vincent felt content and relaxed. 

He didn’t have many friends, nor was he popular, quite the opposite actually, his timid and quiet nature made him an easy target for the self-proclaimed gods of the school, like JFK. And contact is very hard to make when you automatically expect a rejection...

So naturally, Vincent really enjoyed every moment he got to spend around people without actually having to talk to any of them. Not that he’d consider any of the people occupying the table his friends. He never talked to them, outside or during school. The only thing that connected these so different people was that they were, in fact, seen as “nerds” or “losers”.

Still, listening to Newton and Edison argue about something he didn’t even bother to understand, while peacefully eating his lunch was something Vincent found relaxing.

This peaceful moment however, was soon interrupted by another person sitting hurriedly at the table.

“Edgar Allan Poe? What are you doing here?” asked Darwin in surprise, who, too, frequently occupied the “loser table”.

“Listen guys, I need your help.” said Poe, slightly out of breath. Edgar was a strange guy. Nobody really knew if he was a writer or a poet and he probably didn’t know either. Although he normally didn’t sit with the total outcasts, they never rejected him whenever he’d visit. They never really rejected anyone to be frank.

Poe liked to dress in really dark clothes. Somewhere between emo and goth, but unlike Joan, he was really commited to his aethetic. There hasn’t been a day that you wouldn’t see Edgar without his pale makeup on.

“Well, what’s the matter?” asked Edison, his argument with Newton interrupted by Poe’s arrival.

“Well, the poets are going to hang out and I need someone to bring with me!” wailed Poe. “Why don’t you just go alone?” asked Newton, waving his hand nonchalantly.

“Alone?! Have you ever hung out with the poets, Newton?!” Poe exclaimed in disbelief. “No, I haven’t. Because I’m a scientist. Listen, we’d like to help you, but you’re crying at the wrong table.” answered Isaac, who was getting annoyed. “Why don’t you just bring one of the writers?” asked Darwin, the others nodding in agreement. “Ah, I already tried, but nobody can stand them! Please guys, they’re not that bad, I promise!” Poe looked like he was about to get on his knees and beg. Edison snickered “Did you beg your writer friends like this too?” which prompted everybody to laugh.

Poe’s shoulders slumped “Well, thanks a lot guys.” he muttered sarcastically, before his eyes fell upon Vincent, who was pretending to be anywhere but not at the table. Poe’s face lit up “Vincent! You’re an artist, no? Sure you’d like to come with me?”

Everybody turned to face the quiet painter. This is exactly what Vincent did not want, to be the center of attention. He really didn’t want to go. From what he’s heard, what poets lack in their numbers, the compensate with eccentric personalities. He really did not want to judge someone he’s never met, but he had a feeling he would not do well around those people. But now everybody was staring at him, waiting for his response. Vincent could barely think things through under so much pressure-

“O-of course I’ll go!” his voice cracked and he could only laugh awkwardly, regretting those words the instant they left his mouth. “Splendid!” cheered Poe “I’ll pick you up at your dorm after school! Until then!” And thus, Poe left the table.

* * * * *

I’m not sure if I like this, so if you’d like a continuation, please tell me.

Communication is key

!!!!!TW: Dark, dark thoughts! Violence! I reaaally have no idea what's up with me, so I can't really specify!!!!!

A/N: Here we go again... Read more will be added when I have an access to a pc. Please excuse any grammar errors.

Pairing: Comte de Saint Germain x reader

* * * * *

Things were getting bad again. You woke up one day and the world seemed just a bit darker, a bit more glum, a bit more colourless. It was like the volcano that is your happiness finally erupted and coated the world in a thick layer of ash. And all the repressed thoughts, doubts and worries spilled out, slow but steady, and ready to burn, just like hot lava.

It went on like that for a while, the thoughts getting closer and closer and one day, they just consumed you completely. You didn't want to do anything, didn't have the motivation to do anything, but there was this fear inside you, fear of upsetting your loved ones, that you still got up and did your work.

But you had to let go of something, so your mind wouldn't shut down completely.

Who would've thought skipping meals was so easy?

Oh how your hurt, twisted mind enjoyed the way your stomach, that has been empty for days now, squeezed and turned in an attempt to let you know its needs, filling your head, that was already aching from the malnutrition, with deep grumbles.

You seriously didn't think this could go on forever, did you?

It must've been one of the residents who told him. Maybe it was Sebastian, he spent most of the time with you afterall. Maybe it was Arthur when he caught you in the library, leaning your head on the shelves, because you were lightheaded or maybe Dazai, who caught you outside smashing your head against a tree he was occupying, your facial muscles clenched and teeth tightly clamped together, frustration written all over your face.

But that didn't matter now.

What did matter was him, in all his perfect beauty and grace. He sat behind his desk, fingers weaved together in front of his chin. The only thing he was lacking, was that trade mark smile of his, now replaced by what an onlooker would call a blank face, but those who knew him could recognize a scowl forming on his face.

It started simple. "How are you ma chèrie?" By now you had realized that lying would be futile, so you answered truthfully "I'm not doing so well right now. But no need to worry my love, I'll be alright soon enough." you smiled at him. Never in your lufe have you realized how straining it is sometimes to smile.

Comte sighed "You tell me not to worry and then I hear you've been neglecting and hurting yourself. I think that gives me a good reason to worry." He didn't lie, you had to admit and so you only looked off to the side and nodded your head.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could've at least tried to help you." His eyes were staring right into your soul, searching for truth. But the truth was, that you had no idea. Maybe it was due to your trauma, but consulting your problems with your lover never even came up as an option in your head. The first thing your brain commanded to your body was selfdestruct. And so you only shrugged.

"May I know what's plaguing your mind my dear?" he asked oh so softly and caringly. Your response was almost automatic "Oh it's nothing serious, I'm just a bit under the weather is all. I'll be better in no time!"

Comte sighed. But not sadly anymore. His sigh was filled to the brim with dissapointment. "And yet you still lie to me. What am I supposed to do with you?" a small, loving smile accompanied the count's second sentence.

What am I supposed to do with you?

AnyThIng yOu WAnt! Your mind screeched, its voice echoing off the walls of your soul. I aM eMPtY anYwAY! My LIfE's NoTHiNg bUT a FlEetiNG aFfaiR in YouRS, so iT dOEsn'T reAlLy mAttER, DoEs iT?

Despite the burning lava turning your brain into a piece of coal, you felt empty. So so empty. No feeling, no meaning. Unimportant.

You needed to feel. You needed to feel. You NEEDED to FEEL! Youneededtofeelyouneededtofeelyouneededto-

"Hit me."

It was but a mere whisper, but he was sure he hasn't heard anything more loudly than this. In a split second, he left his desk and stood facing you. Your eyes, sunken and empty looked at his clearly worried face.

"I'm acting like a brat. So hit me."

His arm, quick as lightning, shot out towards you. But instead of stinging pain, you felt warmth where he pressed your bodies together. You felt the smooth material of his coat against your face and his arms tightly wound around your back and waist.

And as his warmth seeped into your skin, your being was overcome with one, simple feeling.

this isn't right

no, a slight whimper escaped you. He only held you tighter.

Even as the whimpers rose to screams, screams of pure anguish, desperation and frustration, and you started to thrash in his embrace, he didn't let go.

"No! No!! You don't understand, I-I need the pain! I need to feel it! Please!! You can’t be so calm! Shout at me, hit me, anything but this silence, please!!!"

Your stammering screams shattered his heart into pieces and he couldn't help but drop his mask of perfection and cry, while trying to shush and soothe you.

Despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, his voice didn't break once and his hold didn't falter, until you went lax in his arms. Comte looked down at you, a small part of him hoping to see you content and better, but what he saw only broke his heart further.

You were resting your cheek on his chest, your empty, dead gaze set somewhere far, your lips chapped and dry. You looked exactly how you felt.

Broken.

Your lips started moving, at first only slightly, nearly nonexistent trembles. After a few seconds you whispered "Why am I like this?"