#I can't tell but oh well
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ngl200 · 1 year ago
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So somehow I found out @r3dz33's PT au and I made fanart cause heehhe
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Plus doodle page :)))
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bluewolfangel01 · 2 months ago
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Mc: *approaches Beel, looking dejected*
Mc: "Beel... Can I ask you for a favor?"
Beel: "Of course."
Lucifer: "Why is Beel holding Mc like that?"
Beel: *holding Mc super tight, with slight crazed eyes*
Belphie: "Mc asked Beel to hold them tight as if he just found them almost dead."
Lucifer: "I see.... Are they're alright?"
Belphie: "Yeah, especially now because of Beel."
Lucifer: "Very well then, as long as they're fine."
Mc: "thanks Beel."
Mc: *hugs Beel tighter and buries their head more into his chest*
Beel: *buries his face into Mc's hair*
Beel: "anytime Mc"
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grimwicks · 1 year ago
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Calling everyone on this website - including myself - out
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hotshotsxyz · 3 months ago
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the taste of iron
(buddie) (2.3k words) (8x01 alternate ending) so i made a joke the other day about what would have happened if buck hadn't pushed gerrard out of the way and then i kept thinking about it and then it wasn't a joke anymore and now we're here content warning: minor character death (but like. it's gerrard) (also blood related to said death)
Gerrard is so fucking loud. The vitriol, the bigotry, that’s what makes Buck angry, but it’s the volume that sets his teeth on edge. How it isn’t driving the rest of them insane, he’ll never understand.
The more he berates, the louder he gets. The construction, just feet away, adds to the cacophony. Buck can feel his eardrums vibrating with every spit-punctuated syllable that flies from Gerrard’s mouth. He needs it to stop, he needs it to—
All at once, three things happen. Gerrard’s hand comes up, finger pointed accusingly at the center of his chest. Buck takes an instinctive step back and stumbles, just enough to throw him off balance. The sound of the saw changes.
The split second it takes for Buck to steady himself is a split second too long.  The saw blade flies across the room and embeds itself in the engine, but not before slicing deep into the tissue of Gerrard’s throat. Arterial blood sprays itself across Buck’s face. For a moment, everything goes quiet. Then, it descends into chaos.
Distantly, Buck hears someone shout his name. A hand grabs his shoulder and—
Firefighter needs help, I repeat—
—spins him around.
“Buck!” It’s Eddie’s voice, but Eddie—
Are you hurt?
—Eddie’s hands are on him, on his face, on his chest. They come away red and slick with blood.
“You’re okay, Buck, look at me, you’re okay.”
Go! Go, go, go go!
Buck blinks. Swallows. He tastes—
Three minutes away, we’re so close.
Eddie’s hands find his face again. “Look at me,” he says, as if Buck could ever look away. “I need you to breathe.”
I need you to hang—I need you to hang on.
Buck takes a breath, then another. There’s blood on his face. Eddie’s hands are on his face. Eddie’s hands are covered in blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood. It’s not Eddie’s blood.
There’s a siren, but Eddie’s not in the engine. Eddie’s in front of him, still standing. Eddie—
“Just like that, there you go. With me. In… and out…” His voice is calm, steady, unlabored.
“You’re—” Buck croaks.
Eddie’s eyes are wide and brown and focused. “I’m right here, Buck, keep breathing with me.”
His hand rises of its own accord and finds Eddie’s shoulder. The fabric of his t-shirt is dry and undamaged. Eddie’s brows draw together and a moment later realization seems to dawn.
“I’m okay, Buck,” he says, painfully quiet. “I’m not hurt.”
All at once, the tension that’s been keeping him upright goes. He stumbles, and without Eddie’s steadying grip, he’d probably fall. Buck blinks a few times, and the blurry world around him and Eddie comes back into focus.
Eddie’s turned him away from the engine bay, away from what must be an ocean of blood behind him. Everything he can see looks normal, but it’s unnaturally quiet. Buck lets out a shaky breath.
“Fuck,” he whispers, and it’s like shattering glass the way it breaks the silence.
Eddie’s face relaxes a fraction. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Buck lets Eddie pull him toward the locker room and guide him down onto the bench. He’s gentle, like Buck might break if he presses just a little bit too hard. He pulls at Buck’s shirt until it comes untucked, then carefully peels it off of him, leaving shivering gooseflesh in his wake.
“I’ll be right back,” Eddie says, “I promise.”
Buck nods numbly.
Eddie slips into the bathroom, and a moment later Buck hears the sound of running water. He comes back a few seconds later with clean hands and a damp towel.
“Okay,” he says quietly. He kneels and brings the towel to Buck’s cheek. It’s warm; Eddie must’ve waited for the water to heat before wetting it.
With one hand, Eddie drags the towel in soft, short strokes across Buck’s skin. The other cups the back of his head, steadying him. Buck’s eyes flutter closed, and Eddie takes the opportunity to carefully wipe at the blood that flecks his eyelids.
Finally, Buck hears the towel drop wetly to the floor and opens his eyes.
“With me?” Eddie asks. His eyes bore into Buck’s.
“Yeah,” he rasps.
Eddie squeezes his knee and stands. “Good,” he says, turning away just long enough to fish a sweatshirt from his locker and hand it to Buck.
“Thanks.” Buck pulls the sweatshirt on and is immediately enveloped by the smell of Eddie’s laundry detergent. It settles a little more of the anxiety that’s dug itself deep into his stomach.
Eddie settles next to him on the bench and brushes their shoulders together. “You want to talk about it?”
Buck shakes his head. He doesn’t. But—
“Is he dead?”
In his peripherals, Buck sees Eddie frown. “Probably,” he says after a long moment.
“Oh.” Buck feels less about that than he thought he might. He’s neither sad nor relieved, though he suspects the apathy will fade with the shock. “Can we go home?”
Eddie huffs a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh on another day. “Yeah. Pretty sure the 118’s not going back into service until B shift gets here.”
“Who’s going to deal with…” Buck trails off.
“Not us,” Eddie says decisively. He stands and grabs both of their bags from the lockers. “Come on, I’ll drive.”
“You hate driving,” Buck says quietly.
The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up. “Which is why I owe you more rides than you’ll ever cash in on.”
Buck surprises himself with something close to a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” he says.
Eddie all but manhandles him into the passenger seat of the truck, lingering just a moment longer than strictly necessary, then jogs over to the driver’s side. He turns the key in the ignition and fiddles with the radio until it lands on a station playing something old and soft.
As far as Buck can tell, it’s not a song he’s heard before, but it’s warm and comfortable all the same. He relaxes into his seat and pulls the sleeves of Eddie’s sweatshirt over his knuckles. It’s loose on him, unlike the majority of Eddie’s clothing, and Buck wonders if he bought it with a day like this in mind.
Eddie taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives and glances over at Buck every time they hit a red light. He’s quiet, though, and Buck is too, grateful for the chance to gather himself in the near silence. By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway, Buck’s starting to feel mostly like a person again.
He follows Eddie inside, and it’d probably feel like any other day if he wasn’t still wearing his uniform pants and boots.
“I’m just gonna…” Buck says, nodding toward Eddie’s bedroom as he toes out of his shoes.
Eddie steps around him and squeezes his elbow. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” he says, but it feels a little more like, ‘take all the time you need, I’ll still be here’.
Buck’s had a drawer at Eddie’s almost as long as he’s known him. He bypasses that drawer and goes straight for the one that houses Eddie’s most comfortable and threadbare pajamas. He changes into a pair of soft cutoffs, and with his uniform sheds the last of the tension in his shoulders.
He wanders into the kitchen and finds Eddie whisking eggs in a mixing bowl. Wordlessly, Buck sets the table and pours two glasses of orange juice. When he’s done, he sits, knowing exactly what Eddie will say if he offers to help with the food.
A few minutes later, Eddie carries two plates to the table. Breakfast is simple, just scrambled eggs and toast, but Eddie’s gotten good at this; the eggs are beautifully fluffy and the toast is a perfect golden brown.
“Hang on a sec,” Eddie says.
He goes over to the fridge and returns with a new, unopened jar of blueberry preserves, the kind you can only get at the farmer’s market. Buck swallows thickly, suddenly aware of just how many words are caught in his throat.
“Thanks,�� he says, the only one of them he thinks will come out painlessly.
Eddie ghosts his hand along Buck’s shoulder then sits in the chair closest to his.
“Eat,” he says softly, and it’s only then that Buck realizes he hasn’t even picked up his fork.
Buck read somewhere, once, that the physical act of chewing was enough to meaningfully lower cortisol levels. He’s not actually sure if it’s true, but sitting here with Eddie, he thinks it might be. It makes sense – you don’t stop to eat until the danger has passed. You eat when you feel safe. Buck feels safe. He spreads blueberry preserves on his toast and eats.
When he’s done, Eddie grabs both of their plates and drops them in the sink. He returns to his chair.
“Do you want to talk or try to get some rest?” he asks after a long moment.
Rest sounds really good, actually, but—“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep,” Buck admits.
“We can watch a movie,” Eddie says, offering him an out.
Buck smiles half-heartedly. “Not sure I can do that, either,” he says.
“Then tell me,” Eddie says, voice full of all the concern he hasn’t expressed yet.
“I’m not sure what to say,” Buck says, finding it to be true as soon as it leaves his mouth.
Eddie looks conflicted for a second, but then his expression steels. “When I got shot. That’s what it reminded you of, right?”
There’s a certain relief in not having to voice it himself. Buck nods.
“Okay,” Eddie says gently.
“For—for a second I wasn’t in the station anymore. It was—I know you don’t really remember anything about that day.” Buck shrugs helplessly.
“I do,” Eddie offers. “Not most of it, I mean, but…” Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face and brushes a thumb along the curve of his cheek.   
Something Buck doesn’t have a name for clenches in his stomach.
“I have this picture of you in my head; I was never quite sure whether or not I dreamed it.”
Buck’s breath catches in his chest.
“Guess not,” Eddie says ruefully, shaking his head.
“What, um—what do you—” Buck presses his lips together as the rest of the question refuses to form in his mouth.
Eddie sighs. “We never really talked about this, did we?”
Buck frowns. “We did,” he says.
Eddie shakes his head. “We talked about me, but you were there, too.”
“I didn’t get shot, Eddie.”
“And I didn’t get struck by lightning.”
Buck looks down at his hands and realizes they’re shaking.
“I know what it feels like to watch you die, Buck,” Eddie says seriously. “And you know how it feels to be covered in my blood.”
“I know how it tastes,” Buck corrects quietly. He glances up in time to see the stricken expression on Eddie’s face.
“What?” he breathes.
“It was the only thing I could taste for weeks.” Eddie’s hands find his. “And then today, I tasted it again.”
“Buck,” Eddie says roughly. Buck’s always liked the way his name sounds on Eddie’s lips. He says it like it means something.
All at once, Buck realizes that he’s been waiting years for permission to talk about this, permission Eddie’s finally given him, and it all comes pouring out.
“I thought you were gonna die, Eds. I—I thought I was going to have the taste of your blood in my mouth for the rest of my life. And I—god, I blamed myself for—for not seeing it coming, or getting to you faster.”
Eddie’s hands tighten around his. “You got there fast enough. You saved me,” he says.
Buck laughs softly. “I know. In my head I know that, but—but it never feels like it.”
“Still?” Eddie asks.
In lieu of a response, Buck takes one of Eddie’s hands in his own and presses his fingers to the pulse point in his wrist. His heart beats strong and steady. Buck closes his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie says.
He blinks them back open. His brow furrows. “For what?”
Eddie’s lips twist painfully. “We should have talked about this a long time ago. I should’ve asked.”
Buck shakes his head. “That’s not on you.”
“I think it might be,” Eddie says.
“You got shot,” Buck says. “You’re allowed to avoid the subject.”
Eddie huffs a soft breath. “I think…” he trails off.
Buck waits, counting every beat of Eddie’s pulse against his fingertips.
“I think I was afraid that if we talked about it, I’d remember.”
“And you didn’t want to,” Buck says. “I get that.”
“It’s all so blurry,” Eddie says, “but I remember the way it hurt. I remember being afraid. But I also—there was a moment, somewhere in all that, when I wasn’t afraid anymore.”
Buck bites his lip and nods.
“And…” Eddie’s jaw tightens for a moment. “And when I think about that, I—that’s when I see you.”
Buck takes a sharp, aching breath.
Eddie watches him for a long moment until something minute shifts in his expression. “Oh,” he says softly.
“What?” Buck asks.
Eddie shakes his head. “I just—I remembered something else.”
“Do you want to…”
“I think I’m gonna need a minute with this one,” Eddie says. “But I’ll tell you. I promise.”
“You don’t have to,” Buck says.
The corner of Eddie’s mouth ticks up into a small smile. “I know.”
“Okay,” Buck says softly. He holds Eddie’s gaze for several seconds, but nothing in it scares him. It’s Eddie, warm, perceptive and sure. “I—I think I might be able to sleep.”
“Good,” Eddie says. He stands, pulling Buck up with him. “Come on.”
And just as he has every other time Eddie’s asked him to, Buck follows.
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knifearo · 8 months ago
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this year my challenge for everyone is to unlearn the association between love and morality. love is not something that is inherently morally good, and the absence of love is not something that is inherently bad. sex without love isn't morally bankrupt, it's just an action. people without love aren't less kind or less good, they're just people. when we can get past this false (and often unnoticed) dichotomy of good love/evil lovelessness then i think we are going to be able to take leaps and bounds in sex positivity, aro advocacy, certain discussions of mental health...
#and also. not the direct focus. but love doesn't make things good. you can be in love and do terrible terrible things.#people do bad things in the name of love and in despite of love all the time.#but!! imagine a world where people could exist as people and not be demonized.#sex positivity means being cool about All sex. reexamine your internal systems of moral judgement.#this goes for sex workers. for aroallo people. especially aroallo men. for aro people in general who might enjoy sex.#and frankly i think it can easily bleed into discussions about mental health disorders around 'not feeling' certain things#especially demonizing ppl who don't feel as much empathy. i think there's definitely a correlation between that and the emphasis on love.#our support needs to go out to Everybody and i think these things are all structured together in one way or another!!#it might not be immediately obvious but when i tell you it all leads back to amatonormativity..... little bit wild.... large bit wild....#anyway. horror movie psychopath 'oh he can't feel emotions or love' damn alright. well. let's take a closer look at that.#silly that there's an association between lack of love and Murdering. feel like that might affect some stuff.#love is just an emotion/a feeling it doesn't mean anything about you one way or another#same with empathy. you can feel it all you want but it doesn't inherently change the actions you choose to take#anyway. thesis statement. there is a socially constructed link between love and morality. unlearn that.#kiss kiss (<— lovelessly)#aromantic#aromanticism#arospec#talking#aroace#aspec#sex positivity
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beets · 9 months ago
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baby, bi bi bi
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lazylittledragon · 5 months ago
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ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:
i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???
#ramble#sorry i'm currently in a phase of 'of course this happened' and 'oh i deserve this because i didn't give him what he wanted'#like he knew i was grey ace since the start. and he let it go on for SO long after i said i might be vaguely aro as well#if that's a dealbreaker for you bc of your love language then FINE but NIP IT IN THE BUD#he said he put it off because he didn't want to hurt my feelings but it only hurt me MORE#like you're an adult. grow the fuck up and communicate like one#holding your negative feelings in hoping somebody notices you're hiding them is what TEENAGERS do#and also i told him VERBATIM: i didn't think anyone would ever love me because i'm not comfortable with xyz. and he just confirmed that#idk i still feel like i'm being selfish because how could i expect someone to be in a relationship with me when i can't give them anything#also tmi but it's not like we did NOTHING. we still held hands/cuddled/were close. he just didn't have his tongue down my throat anymore#so obviously i'm assuming by 'missing affection' he just meant sex and as an ace person that just fucking sucks#also oh my god i HATED how much he would imply we were going to have sex. i would have to keep SAYING 'i don't like doing this'#he always spoke like it was inevitably going to happen and it didn't click how GROSS i felt about it until recently#also ALSO not to go there but i never told him WHY i struggle with it (it's sensory issues)#and like. what if something had happened to me that made it hard for me and i just wasn't ready to tell him. and then he did this#again sorry to overshare this is still just a lot for me and i have no idea if i'm being unreasonable#if you're ace and in a relationship please let me know bc i'm starting to think it'll end this way every single time
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happywitchesofnewdi · 3 months ago
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It's too late, Mugi. I'm afraid he's already been influenced.
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artkaninchenbau · 2 months ago
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For the record, I did figure that out a long time ago, it just gets funnier the more time passes
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nattikay · 4 months ago
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seventh-district · 8 months ago
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Making Incorrect H:SR Quotes Until I Run Out of (hopefully) Original Ideas - Pt. 3 - Random Screenshot Edition
[Pt. 1] [Pt. 2] [Pt. 4] [Pt. 5] [Pt. 6]
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briar-oses · 4 months ago
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hes my spirit animal
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bluewolfangel01 · 1 month ago
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How do you think the brothers would handle an MC that needs to regularly go to the human world to get medications? They're the kinda ones they can't really live without (think thyroid or heart meds), so it's something that definitely couldn't be avoided and a conversation they'd need to have with Lucifer and Diavolo
Just going to say it here, I am a believer in the headcanon that Mc needs to take vitamin D supplements while in the Devildom
-MC with medications-
When they learn that Mc has to make a quick trip to the human, the bros are quick to volunteer to go with
They claim they need to protect Mc, because who knows what kind of crazy people are out there
(Mc can obviously handle themselves well enough while in the human realm)
To make things fair and to prevent all out chaos, the brothers have a scheduled rotation for who goes with
If Mc doesn't want any of them to join, the brothers will be respectful of that and not go
Just in case, the bros will even remind Mc that they need to go get their medications soon
Sometimes if Mc is to busy, one of them will go get the medications for Mc
Overall the brothers handle it very well
It just takes a bit getting used to for them, but when they do, they do their best to help
Keep in mind while in the human realm to watch them with a close eye and make sure they behave
Bonus: if Mc is a dog person or can tolerate dogs, a spell can be cast on Cerburus to make him smaller and appear like a normal dog, and then Mc can take him to go get their meds
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dukeofqueers · 1 year ago
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i won't be caught dead playing a bard but the knowledge that Omeluum loves music is going to make me explode from fondness he means EVERYTHING to me
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moonchild-in-blue · 2 months ago
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If you choose to look at Sleep as an allegory for depression/mental illness, the romantic and co-dependent nature of Vessel's lyrics hurt that much more.
"I hate you and you're bad for me" "I don't know who I am without you" "Please set me free" "Please don't leave me" "You're an intrinsic part of me" "I must become someone new".
Ya feel me?
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niranutcake · 2 months ago
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🚪There should not be a man in your closet🚪
A fanart of @screams-in-writing 's first chapter of their wonderful fic "Performance Enhancing Coffee" on AO3 :)
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