#I should draw barb more me think

[sane-omblog]

Stickers ✨

[bullet-prooflove]

For Rip Wheeler

“Oh, if all I got is your hand in my hand Baby, I could die a happy man”

Tagging: @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal @babygirl8900 @domquixotedospobresblog @buckysteveloki-me

Companion piece to Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

Rip doesn’t have a heart, at least that’s what they say about him. They see his hard edges, his gruff exterior, the aura of violence and they think there’s a barbed wire where one should be.

For a while even he thinks it’s true. The world has battered him, bruised him, broken him, he doesn’t have the capacity for softness anymore. He tells you that after you fuck him for the second time.

“Don’t expect anything from me. I don’t have anything to give you.”

His relationships have aways been physical, raw, primal. It’s about stress relief, not connection. He assumes it’s going to be the same with you until it isn’t.

There are so many ways you’re different to the women he’s been with before. There’s a softness in you he doesn’t anticipate. You aren’t rough with him like the others, you’re teasing, gentle. When he’s camping out alone, he thinks about the light caress of your fingertips across the scars that line his left shoulder, the tender brush of your lips as you explore every inch of him.

He might fuck but you, you make love.

He tries to fight the fall, really he does but it’s a constant war deep inside of him. He forces himself to leave your bed when he’s finished with you, he redresses in the dark as you sleep, ignoring the urge to climb back into your sheets, to hold you, to love you.

He’s tired, sore and pissed off when he comes across you in the barn. He’s been pulling up hemlock all day in one of the pastures and you’re finishing a check up on John Dutton’s horse Starbuck. The old girl is getting up there these days, she’s starting to have more health problems. There’s going to come a day soon where you make the recommendation to put her down and the thought of that…

It devastates him because the two of them, they sort of grew up together. She was the first foal he birthed back in the day.

You must see the exhaustion in him, the toll of the day has taken. He thinks that’s why you reach for him, why you catch his hand when he walks by. The gesture surprises him because the women he’s been with, they’ve steered clear of his moods, they didn’t walk head first into them.

“Come home with me tonight.” You say as he turns to face you, and he sees the sincerity in your features as you draw him close. “Let me look after you a little.”

It’s the first time that anyone has ever offered him that, that they’ve cared enough to consider his wants, his needs. He’s tired of this war he’s been waging with himself, he’s tired of resisting you. All he wants right now is to curl up in bed, with the woman he’s falling in love with.

“Alright darlin.” He concedes, his thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek. “If you want me, you can have me.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kiame-sama]

quick question, I was thinking I might make some fanart of your humans are extinct AU. Specifically, I was thinking of drawing up malleus. I was just wondering if you could give me a physical description of his appearance so that I know how to properly visualize him? Love your writing!

(Malleus in my AU has large black/purple dragon wings, a long tail that is barbed on the end and his lower-legs/feet are similar in shape to that of a canine/feline but are scaled. He has scales that frame his face around his eyes similar to smokey eye-shadow, those scales being black with a slight green shine)

- Malleus has a tendency to follow his instincts more than general common sense as his instincts have yet to steer him wrong. It was these instincts that told him the Human would make a very good Hoard member, even before he knew they were Human. Those who are part of his Hoard- new and old alike- are the most precious and treasured beings Malleus has in his life and he would kill for his Hoard at a moment's notice.

- As a Dragon, Malleus is genetically programed to guard and protect that which he considers his Hoard or those he values. Not only does he become fiercely protective, but the presence of his Hoard nearby soothes him and makes him feel a certain sense of peace. Any threat to his Hoard is taken seriously even if it is just a verbal threat or an attempted act of intimidation. Any disrespect directed at any member of his Hoard is disrespect at him, and he refuses to tolerate such behavior. Only his Hoard can sass him without him taking it personally (though only the Human and Lilia would have the courage to sass the Dragon) and he is much more compliant towards requests by members of his Hoard.

- Malleus believes no one is good enough a mate for his Human other than Himself and his Hoard. He primarily believes he should be the mate to the Human as there is a complex binding spell only the Dragon can manage where he uses his own life-force to prolong the life and youth of his Human. He believes this is the proper duty of a mate and he would happily do so for his Human. He is tolerant of the idea of sharing the Human with his Hoard as his Hoard is comprised of those he trusts and cares for most. He knows Lilia wants to breed the Human and have hybrid infants and wishes for the Dragon to do the same. He isn't against the idea in the slightest.

[not-neverland06]

The End of the Beginning

Previous Part / Next Part

Cooper Howard x fem!reader A/N: I’m going to use my How About a Nuke? taglist for my Cooper Howard one shots/stories from now on. If you do not want to be on the taglist, please let me know and I will remove you immediately. I’m considering writing some more for these two, let me know what you think in the comments.

Summary: You don’t know how it starts. But you know how it ends. 

There’s not a specific moment where you can pinpoint how this whole sordid affair began. Not a true affair, in your own defense. Nothing physical ever happened between the two of you, but what did happen was somehow almost worse.

Maybe it was when Bud first introduced you to him or when you began to eat dinners with his family. It could have been the times he would randomly drop by your home for a drink, you’re not sure. It doesn’t even matter, you know that no matter what it never would have ended well for either of you. 

“Mr. Howard, it is a pleasure.” The man in front of Cooper is someone he should recognize, he knows he’s met him before. But his face could blend into any crowd, he’s drawing a blank and failing not to let it show. 

“How’re you,” the question trails off awkwardly and the woman beside the man is clearly trying to hide a smile. 

“Uh, Bud,” he offers up, his smile waning slightly, “Bud Askins. We met a couple of weeks ago.” He’s grasping at straws, eyes desperate for some sense of familiarity within Cooper’s own gaze. He would feel bad for him, but something about this man sets Cooper on edge. 

“Bud,” Cooper offers him the kind of smile he gives every fan and it does the trick like usual. Bud lets out a sigh of relief and shakes Cooper’s hand with a vigor that rattles his teeth. The woman clears her throat, glaring at the back of Bud’s head. 

He finally remembers himself and turns towards her. “Right, my apologies.” Bud moves back and she steps forward, her hand outstretched towards Cooper. She’s got a disarming smile which is a nice change from Bud’s overeager one. 

She seems happy to have met him, but not the starstruck joy he’s used to. It’s refreshing to not have someone be eagerly shouting at him what his favorite movie of theirs is. She offers him her name and he repeats it, liking the way it feels when he says it. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

She doesn’t get offended by the brusque question. She drops his hand and glances back at Bud, “I work for Mr. Askins. I’ll be helping you in adjusting to your new Vault-Tec life.”

He frowns, brows furrowed in confusion at the way she phrases her answer. “Vault-Tec life? I thought this was just meant to be some ads, a few billboards maybe.” He chuckles, hoping to ease the tone of the conversation, but they don’t buy it. She shares a concerned look with Bud and they glance back at Cooper before whispering something to each other. 

Bud listens to her speak, but his gaze stays locked on Cooper. He doesn’t look happy anymore, if anything he looks concerned. Cooper sighs and wonders, not for the first time, what Barb has gotten him into. As if summoning her, his wife pops up behind him. 

She wraps an arm through his and he feels himself easing back into her touch, hoping she can provide some clarity. “I see you’ve met Bud and his assistant.” There’s an odd tone to her words when she addresses the other woman. 

Her gaze snaps from Bud’s and she shoots Barb a sharp glare. “I am not Mr. Askins’ assistant.” Barb clears her throat and she winces, quickly amending her statement, “If anything, I believe I might be your husband’s.”

Cooper wraps his arm around Barb’s shoulder and draws her closer to him. She smiles and looks up at him but he can’t find it in himself to return it. With each new development in this Vault-Tec partnership he finds himself growing more and more hostile towards the company. There’s just something about this whole idea that has him unsettled. 

It’s not that he doesn’t see the need for the vaults, he does. If anyone understands the dangers this war is presenting, it’s him. He’d been on the frontlines, he knows just how bad it’s getting out there. But, the way Vault-Tec is going about everything is unsettling. Capitalizing off the American people’s suffering isn’t something he’s interested in endorsing. 

He’s been questioning more and more everyday if that's exactly what he’s doing. 

“That’s the confusion, honey,” he glances down at Barb but she’s sharing a look with the other woman that he can’t understand. “I don’t see why I need an assistant.”

She sighs and finally looks back at him. She laces her fingers through his and gives him a comforting smile, “Let’s go talk.”

You watched as Barb dragged Cooper away from you and Bud. You knew this wasn’t going to go over well. You’re not sure why anyone at the company even listens to Bud’s asinine idea’s anymore. You give your boss a discerning look but he’s still staring after his crush, the Cooper Howard. 

There must be some cunning snake under the surface of this bumbling baboon. You certainly don’t see it, but someone had to have at Vault-Tec for him to have crawled so high up the ladder. You look over your shoulder at Cooper and, not for the first time, a pang of guilt stabs through your stomach. 

Same as everyone else, you idolized Mr. Howard. It was hard not to. He’d fought for your country in the Sino-American War, defending Alaska. And then he came home and instead of protecting America’s citizens, he made it his job to uplift and entertain them. 

He was an incredible man, and if you weren’t so worried about protecting your own ass you’d feel bad for what Vault-Tec’s mission is going to do to him. 

Barb had brought concerns to you and Bud that Cooper was… slipping. She seemed to think his priorities had shifted and he was growing suspicious of Vault-Tec, and by extension her. 

He was right to be suspicious, there wasn’t a day that you weren’t disgusted with yourself for working for who you do. But you also would like to survive this coming nuclear holocaust, so you learned to live with it. 

She seemed to think that giving him an assistant, one of Bud’s Buds, would help get him back on track. You’re not sure why Bud had chosen you for the job, but he seemed to think you would be charming enough to snag Cooper’s attention. 

You were to bond with Mr. Howard, become his friend and gain his trust. When the time came for him to start questioning you about Vault-Tec and their true intentions, you would say something to calm him. 

Essentially, befriend him and then lie to his face and make him think he wasn’t promoting the end of the world. Barb didn’t want her husband to ever learn about the truth of who was really pulling the strings of the war. 

Cooper was led back to you both by Barb with a smile on his face. He seemed more open to you now, too, offering you a polite nod of his head which you returned. “Barb, here, seems to think I need myself a personal assistant.”

You laughed amicably and shrugged, “You’re a busy man, Mr. Howard. I’m just an extra set of hands.”

He shook his head and waved you off, “Call me Cooper, please, it seems like we’ll be spending a lot of time with each other anyway.”

You smiled, your gut twisting with disgust when you saw the earnest look in his eyes, “Cooper.”

“Good morning,” Cooper leaned over Barb’s shoulder, landing a quick peck on her cheek. She smiled and squeezed his arm before glancing at the clock and frowning. He already knew what she was gonna say. He was going to be late. 

He smiled at her, taking a sip of his coffee. She seemed to notice the look on his face because she just sighed and shook her head. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to get away with this anymore.”

He laughed and shrugged, “Why not? It’s a part of my signature, I’m always a few minutes late.”

She glanced down at the Pip-Boy on her arm and something seems to have caught her attention. She let out a haggard breath and put Janey’s lunch box on the counter. “Don’t let her leave without this.” She ran to the front door and Cooper frowned as he watched her run around the house, frantically collecting her things. 

“Where are you going?”

She was already halfway out the door when she called out a quick, “Work emergency.” He shook his head and rinsed his mug out in the sink. He’s had work emergencies before, none of them so urgent he would have left without saying goodbye to their daughter. 

He sucks on his teeth, staring over at the front door. What does she do for Vault-Tec? Had she ever really told him?

Had he ever asked?

His thoughts are interrupted by a series of blaring honks outside his front door. He figures Barb had forgotten her keys in her rush to get out of the house. But when he steps onto the front lawn he sees you parked along the curb, staring expectantly at the door. 

You lift your sunglasses up, your lips tilted up into an easy smile and you wave at him. “Morning, Mr. Cooper,” you shout across the driveway. 

He scoffs and walks towards your convertible. You’ve got the roof tilted down, a scarf wrapped around your hair to keep the style. You light up a cigarette while he approaches. He leans into the car and stares at you with a disbelieving look on his face. 

“What are you doing here?”

“We’ve got a packed schedule today, can’t be late.” Barb’s warning suddenly makes sense now. You, apparently, weren’t the type to let him be a little lazy. 

He’d almost forgotten she’d forced an assistant on him. He’s still not happy with it, feeling like he’s being babysat more than anything else. 

She’d made it clear, though, that there wasn’t much room for arguments when it came to you. He doesn’t understand why she was so adamant about this. Most wives would prefer their husbands didn’t spend all day with such pretty assistants. 

“Barb’s just run out, I’ve got to drop Janey off at school today.” You sigh, face screwing up as he speaks. You flick the cigarette onto the pavement and fiddle with the Pip-Boy you’ve got on your passenger seat. He’s surprised not to see it on your wrist, most Vault-Tec people treat it like a fifth limb. 

You screw around with it for a minute before you finally look back up at him. “We can make it, get her out here.” You toss the Pip-Boy in the back and place your hands on the wheel. You give him an expectant look and he realizes you’re not gonna let him argue with you about this. 

“Aren’t I your boss, darling?”

You scoff, tone sardonic, “Sure, Mr. Howard.” He sighs and finally heads back inside. Janey is more than happy to ride along with you. Cooper less so. You seem keen on breaking every damn speeding law to get him to work on time. He’s not sure he trusts his life in your reckless hands. 

You peel into Janey’s school, practically kick her out of the car, and then you’re off again. “You can slow down, you know.”

You glance over at him, a sly smirk on your lips. “I’m not making you sick, am I?” 

He eases up his grip on the door handle and shakes his head. “I’ve worn a power suit, sweetheart, not much can make me carsick.”

You shrug, “Good, then I think I’ll keep going like this.” He shakes his head, slightly miffed by the insubordination, slightly impressed. It’s nice to have someone who treats him like he’s just another regular Joe. 

Most of his former assistants kissed the ground he walked on and were terrified to say one word against him. It gets tiring after a while, that sort of behavior. He’s seen plenty of his costars let it get to their heads and turn into someone egotistical and vile to be around. He doesn’t want to turn out like that. 

He’s never wanted the fame to twist him into something he isn’t. He has a feeling you don’t let many people walk over you. You also don’t seem to have a problem with being assertive. It’s odd, these behaviors in someone in a position of subordinance. 

Makes him wonder if being an assistant is your actual job, or if Bud had demoted you for some other odd reason. 

“I really don’t want to intrude.”

Cooper waves you off and shakes his head, “Not at all. I’m inviting you, honey.” You sigh and grit your teeth. You know what you’re supposed to say. You’re supposed to thank him and accept the invitation to dinner. 

But being with him everyday for the past few weeks has made it nearly impossible to keep this up. He’s an incredible man, kind and honest to a fault. He’s got such strong principles, to be openly manipulating those against him makes you sick to your stomach. 

You thought you would be able to do this. So many times in your life you’d heard never to meet your heroes. You figured Cooper would be like every other pretentious asshole in Hollywood and you would have no problem lying to his face. 

But he is so much more than that. He’s so much better than the people you work with and for, so much better than you. 

Still, a job is a job. You don’t do this and you’ll be kicked out of Bud’s program and left out with the rest of civilization to burn up when the fallout begins. 

You reason with yourself that by doing this you’re also ensuring Cooper’s safety. As long as he believes in Vaut-Tec, in you, he’ll have a place at the end of the world. 

It doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“Thank you, I’d love to join you.”

He grins at you and walks off to wrap up his last scene of the day. You let out a long breath, slumping against the concession table and rubbing at your forehead. You’re losing sleep over all of this. Your nails are brittle, hair splitting, and health declining with the amount of anxiety and guilt you’ve been carrying around. 

Despite your resolve mentally, you’re really not sure how much longer you can go on like this physically. You’ve always been a horrible liar, especially when you’re lying to people you care about. You should have gotten an Oscar for getting this far with him. 

The drive to Cooper’s home that night is silent. To punish yourself, you don’t turn on the radio and force yourself to wallow in self hatred the whole way there. You berate yourself and come up with about five different reasons to get yourself out of being his assistant. 

But when you knock on the door and see his smiling face you can’t force a word out. He’s so handsome, cleaned up and his hair slicked back. You could get lost in his eyes when he speaks to you. You force yourself to keep your mouth shut and just eat dinner with him. 

Barb keeps sending you appreciative smiles all throughout dinner and you want to stab your fork through her hand. You might be a horrible person for lying to him, but she has to be the worst damn wife you’ve ever met. She claims to be in love with Cooper, to care about him, but the way she manipulates him goes against that. 

You don’t get to claim to love someone and then treat them like that. She won’t even let him take Roosevelt! You know for a fact that animals can go into certain vaults, she just hates that dog. 

“I have to be a good man gone bad in this one.” Cooper explains to Barb. She’d asked after the latest script changes but she didn’t seem wholly interested as she messed with her Pip-Boy. “I don’t really like it, I’m meant to be a sheriff, not a cold-blooded killer.”

Barb scoffs and shakes her head, “Even good men have to make bad decisions, Cooper.”

Cooper straightens up and glares at her. At his silence she finally looks up, her face quickly becoming guarded at the look on his. “Not all of them,” he argues, voice soft. You and Janey glance between the two of them, this goes beyond a simple script change. 

“Well,” Barb goes back to cutting her steak, shaking her head at him, “that’s a very naive way of looking at the world.” She gives him a sharp smile, her eyes empty and cold. 

You’re grateful when Janey passes a piece of broccoli to Roosevelt and the both of them are snapped out of their pseudo argument. Barb snaps at the dog and Cooper laughs, you shrink into your chair, wishing to be anywhere else. 

When dinner is over, you clean up while Cooper and Barb put Janey to bed. You slide open the door to the backyard and tug a cigarette out of your case. You dig around in your bag for a while, nearly breaking down when you can’t find your lighter. 

“Need this?” Fire sparks up before you and Cooper grins as he holds his lighter out. You smile in relief and thank him, sparking up the end and taking a deep inhale. You feel yourself relax slightly, easing off of the meltdown you were about to have. 

Little things keep seeming to build and build on top of you. You’re hanging on by a very thin thread and you’re worried about what’s going to happen when it snaps. “You alright, sweetheart?” He seems genuinely concerned and you can’t even look at him anymore. 

You take a seat and nod, focusing instead on the stars above you. He’s further out from civilization, he’s got a better view of the night sky than you do from your crowded apartment. “Just been a little stressed out lately.”

He sits beside you and reaches over, his hand lands on your thigh and he squeezes. It lasts less than a second, it’s clearly meant to comfort you but it sets your body on fire and you turn away from him slightly. He frowns, an apologetic look on his face and he backs off. 

You can’t find it in yourself to feel guilty. You don’t need to start being attracted to him on top of lying to him. Not when you just scorned Barb for the exact same thing. “I hope I haven’t been adding to that.”

You look over at him and shake your head, “Not at all,” you’re the only reason I’m like this. 

He seems to catch onto what you’re not saying. He might not know exactly why he’s stressing you out, but he’s more perceptive than others give him credit for. Still, he doesn’t say anything. He just nods and takes a swig from the glass of whiskey resting in his lap. 

“Sorry about earlier.”

“What?” He sighs, giving you a look that tells you not to bother playing dumb. You shrug, “Wasn’t the worst fight I’ve ever had to watch.”

He shakes his head and runs a tired hand over his face. “It wasn’t even a fight. That’s what bothers me, she says these little things and sometimes it just goes right over my head.”

You find yourself speaking before you can stop yourself, “It’s only later that you realize she was being cruel.”

He looks over at you and nods. His head tilts in confusion, “You know what I’m talking about?”

You nod, puffing on the cigarette between your fingers before you continue. You feel yourself starting to ease up again, your shoulders finally lowering from their place next to your ears. “Yeah, I’ve got a long list of ex’s like that.” Your mouth snaps closed when you realize what you said. 

You probably shouldn’t be saying ex to the man you’re trying to keep with his wife. But he doesn’t get upset, he only sighs. The sound is resigned, like you’re only confirming something he already knew to be true. 

“You don’t seem very happy,” Cooper glanced over his shoulder and spotted you. You had your heels in your hand, making your way across his back deck to stand next to him at the pool. You drop the heels on one of his lawn chairs and sit down to dip your legs in the pool. 

He stays standing, staring down at you. You look up and offer him a tired grin. You must have been about as sick of this as he was. After a minute he finally sat down beside you. “Can’t say I’m pleased to have all these people in my house.”

You both glanced back at the party. Dozens of Vault-Tec employees streamed in and out of his living room, their voices carrying, even back to where you and Cooper were hidden away. He hated this, feeling out of place in his home. 

“None of your friend’s wanted to come?” You glance over at him, a concerned look on your face. He appreciates it, your concern for his comfort, especially considering Barb doesn't seem to care for it at all. She hadn’t asked if he was okay with this, or comfortable with this wrap party. She’d simply gone ahead with it and then sprung it on him. 

“Seb was here a while ago but he left.” He scoffed and threw back the rest of his drink. “Can’t say I blame him, if it wasn’t my house I would have left hours ago.” 

You shrugs, “Let’s go.” You’re staring at him, eyes wide and earnest like it’s the simplest solution in the world. 

He laughs, more surprised than anything, “What?”

You stand up, tugging your heels back on and holding a hand out to him. “Let’s leave. I can’t say I’m very happy to be here either.”

He argues, “These are your coworkers, sweetheart.” But he still takes your hand, getting back to his feet and letting you lead him through his back gate. You tug your keys out of your purse, sliding into your little convertible and giving him an eager smile while you wait for him to follow. 

“They're a bunch of vultures, Coop. Let’s just get out of here.” Hearing you use his nickname affects him more than he wants it too. Affection has been few and far between at the house lately, he finds himself leaning into it when you offer it more than he should. 

Things are tense between Barb and himself, but he’s still a married man. He shouldn’t get so happy when you call him Coop. And he really shouldn’t be leaving his wife behind at this ridiculous fucking party and getting in your car. But he finds himself going against his better knowledge and following anyway. 

He doesn't ask where you’re taking him. He doesn’t even care, he just wants to be near you. You’re kind, you don’t judge him. You leave him feeling a little weightless everytime you snap one of your witty little retorts at him. He’s charmed by you, more than he should be, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered by it. 

You’re eating shitty junk food and sipping on Nuka-Cola’s in the back of your convertible. Cooper kind of feels like a teenager again. It’s been a long time since he’s had some decent greasy burgers. Barb doesn’t like bringing fast food into the house and it’s been a while since he and Janey have snuck some on the way home from school. 

You’ve parked your car in the desolate parking lot of the closed shopping center. You’re both quiet, staring up at the stars or the bright flashing billboards across from you. Cooper glances over at you and curiosity gets the better of him. 

“How’d you end up working for Vault-Tec?” You give him a questioning look and he shrugs, taking a sip from his bottle. “Just doesn’t seem like your sort of company.” You seem too kind for them, too compassionate. 

“I, um,” you chuckle, swiping away some condensation that had dripped onto your bare thigh and Cooper follows the movement lazily. “I got swept up in the war time efforts. There were a bunch of campaigns to get women to start assisting during the war.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, “The Nuka-Cola girl roped me in with her patriotism and I found myself at a plant assembling your power suits.”

Cooper’s shoulders tense up and he has to fight off a nasty retort. You catch his gaze and flinch away from it slightly. He doesn’t blame you for all the faulty defects in those suits, but he’d watched good men and women die on the frontlines because of those damn things. It’s hard not to get angry when they’re mentioned, especially because they’d told them the suits weren’t safe. The government forced them into them anyway.

”I know, there were a lot of defects. A lot of people died because of those suits. That’s how Bud discovered me actually, I raised hell with my supervisor. I tried to get them to fix the issue or just stop manufacturing them. We were wasting good supplies on death traps.”

You shook your head and sighed, “It didn’t matter what I said. They never stopped making them. But, Bud, liked my fire. He thought it showed good leadership skills that I was so willing to stand up for what I belived in. He took me to Vault-Tec when he left the suits behind.” You took in a deep shuddering breath, for a moment Cooper could swear he saw tears in your eyes. “I always seem to work for the wrong side.”

He’d been reaching out, hoping to offer some comfort, when his hand stopped. It dropped back down to his side and he glared at you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your eyes widened and you froze, seemingly caught off guard. “What?”

“‘I always seem to work for the wrong side.’ What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?” Is this it? The confirmation that he’s been looking for that his fears weren’t unfounded. Had you known this whole time he’d been fighting with Barb and not told him?

He didn't want to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. How twisted had his life become that he was putting more faith into you, practically a stranger, than his own wife. 

You shook your head, a frown appearing on your lips and eyes boring angrily into his. “That’s not what I said.”

His mouth opened in shock, not quite sure he was hearing you properly. “What? Yes, it is.”

“Cooper,” you snapped, his name sounding harsh for the first time. You’d always spoken so sweetly to him, he couldn’t understand where this was coming from. “That’s not what I said, what is your problem?”

Could he have misheard you? You’d never gotten mad at him before. You would only be acting like this if he really was wrong. He sighed, figuring he should just drop it before he made things worse. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Your eyes softened and you reached out, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “It’s alright. Let’s just enjoy tonight.” He nodded, leaning closer towards you while you reached forward to turn the radio on. Despite the both of you knowing it was a bad idea, you rested your head against him. Snuggled up together and watching the stars, he could get used to this.

You hear your name, rushed and bordering on a shout. You whip around, frowning when you see Cooper barreling towards you. He reaches you, grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you into an empty office. 

You’re taken aback by the aggression in his actions but you’re more concerned when you notice his eyes. They’re bloodshot and his cheeks are flushed, like he’s been crying or was trying not to. You reach up before you can think, hand cupping his cheek and ignoring the minute way he leans into it. 

“Cooper? What is it? What’s wrong?”

His eyes are wild, darting all around the room like he’s waiting for someone to jump out and grab him. “It’s Barb. I put a transmitter on her Pip-Boy and I heard her in her meeting. She’s talking about starting the nuclear war, she’s going to fucking kill everyone.” You step back from him, arms dropping to your sides. 

“Cooper,” his name is a barely heard whisper. “Why did you have to dig?” It’s over. You knew this was coming. Cooper was too smart not to start digging on his own, even without your reassurances. You’d only delayed the inevitable and hurt yourself in the process. Hurt him. 

He frowns and shakes his head, stepping back from you. His face moves through a hundred different emotions, faster than you can process, but you manage to catch a few of them. He’s betrayed, hurt, disgusted by the sight of you. “You knew?” The words are spit out with such venom you nearly flinch from him.

You can feel tears burning the back of your throat and you glare at him, “Why couldn’t you have left it alone?” It’s misplaced anger, you know. You’re mad at yourself for getting involved in this, for dragging him down with you. You’re mad at Barb and Bud and all the fucked up corporations you keep finding yourself employed by. But the anger strikes out at him and you regret it immediately. 

“You knew!” It’s not a question anymore, it’s a realization. He shakes his head and he almost looks more hurt than when he discovered Barb. “You’re fucking sick, all of you!” He’s out the door and down the hall before you have a chance to stop him. 

You sink back against the wall, wiping at tears that won’t stop coming. Betty finds you, she takes one look at you and then a dissapearingCooper before she’s dragging you into Barb’s office. “You need to wait here for them.”

You don’t argue, there’s no point. You’d failed in your mission and Cooper was beyond Barb’s grasp. Maybe it was for the better, that he got away from her while he could. Dying rather than being trapped in a vault with her might be a better ending for him. 

You can’t get that look of his out of your mind, not even while Barb berates you. She nearly fires you, but Bud stops her. She storms out of her office and you just keep replaying that moment with Cooper. You could have played along with him, never let him know you knew about Vault-Tec and just run away with him. 

But the thought of living the rest of your short life lying to him makes you sick to your stomach. 

Bud calls your name for the inth time and grabs your shoulders. You snap your gaze up to his, finally noticing that he’s been kneeling in front of you this whole time. ”You have to go in early.”

You shake your head dumbly, not understanding what he’s saying. He frowns, eyes desperate and he keeps glancing over his shoulder. “Barb is livid. She wants you gone. We’re gonna have to send you down early.”

“You mean…” you trail off, mind going blank at the thought of being put into cryo months before you were prepared to. You want to argue with him and tell him you need more time. Thoughts of going after Cooper and trying to make him see reason float through your brain. 

He seems to track your train of thought because he shakes his head. “We can’t delay this. You go now or you don’t go at all.” 

You hadn’t realized just how much Bud seemed to care for you until this moment. The sheer determination on his face that he wouldn’t let Barb bury you would have made you sentimental were it not for the current gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak you were experiencing. 

He stands up and glances over at Betty. The worry slowly disappears as a plan starts to formulate within him. “Betty will take her car and get you to the vault, I’ll have people there ready to take you in.” He grabs your arm and yanks you out of your chair. “You need to leave now, before Barb comes back with security.”

He and Betty share a look over your shoulder before she nods. She grabs your elbow from Bud and marches you down the hall. You’re barely present for the walk through the hallways of Vault-Tec. You don’t have time to take in the world around you, appreciate the beauty before it’s gone. 

You’re numb. Stuck in a limbo and paralysis of your own creation. When you make it to the vault, Betty leaves you there to be taken in by the guards. They lead you to Vault 31 and march you down the long hall until you reach your cryo pod. 

You don’t know when you’ll be released, what the world will be like when you come back out. But you know Cooper will be gone and there'll be nothing left for you. 

You step into the pod and let your eyes slowly drift closed. 

Your pod pops open with a hiss and your head lolls to the side. There’s an odd buzzing noise before you but you can’t see much of anything. “It will take a minute for your eyes to adjust.”

Your brows furrow as you place the voice, “Bud?” Your hands grope blindly through the dark for the edge of your pod. Your eyes begin to thaw, vague shapes and colors making themselves clear to you first. “If you’re here, how long have I been asleep?” 

Odd, you can’t make out his form anywhere, but it sounds like he’s right in front of you. You step down and there’s a loud buzz, like wheels rolling across metal. “Watch out!” You tilt your head in confusion, blinking the rest of the frost out of your eyes and gasping when you see what’s in front of you. 

A brain on a fucking vacuum. “Bud!” You shout, completely caught off guard by this new look of his. 

He sighs, the sound robotic and staticky. “Yes, it’s me. It’s the only way I could stay alive to monitor the success of my vaults.” Even just as a brain, you can still hear the pride in his voice, “I am proud to say that we have been most successful these past two hundred and thirteen years.”

You can’t respond, winded by how long it’s been since you’ve been asleep. Everything you’ve ever known was gone. Officially. 

Your mind drifts to Cooper but you stop it before it gets too far. Even before he found out about your role in Vault-Tec, you were never going to be in the same vault as him. No matter what, the two of you would never have seen each other again. 

There’s no reason to mourn him now. 

Bud rolls in front of you, leading you to the door of the vault. “Hank MacLean and Betty will be here to greet you. You’ll be a part of the Triennal trade, your official entry into vault 33.” He’s rapidly firing off information faster than you can keep up. 

You know the protocols, they were drilled into you long before you came down here. For every one of Bud’s Buds they had to marry their way into the vault they were entering. You just prayed Hank was kind enough to give you someone nice to marry, maybe even tall. 

The vault’s door is rolling open before you get a chance to prepare yourself. Ten smiling faces stare eagerly at you, you offer them tentative looks. You search among them for Betty and Hank, it takes you a moment to recognize them. To realize that the two old people at the front are Hank and Betty. 

They’d been out much longer than you had if the wrinkles were anything to go by. 

“Welcome to vault 33!” A big eyed girl shouts at you from behind Hank. You offer her a shaky smile, racking your brain for what you’re supposed to say. 

“Thank you,” the words are stilted and you wince internally. “In honor of your welcoming, my vault has sent ahead supplies and crops. My overseer apologizes for not being here to greet you all, but I’m happy to be here!” The words sound scripted, more than you would like. 

Betty picks up on your discomfort and ushers you forward. “Come on, you should meet your husband.” You shoot her a scared look but the face she gives you shuts you down. There’s no backing out of this, as much as you might want to. This is your reality now. 

“Norm, meet your new bride.” 

Well, he’s certainly not tall. 

“I still can’t believe you're not pregnant.” You hand Lucy a wrench and she frowns from her place on the floor. She pauses in her repairs of the pipes for a moment to pester you further. “Have you had the doctors check my brother’s sperm count?”

“Lucy!” You admonish, glaring down at her. She shrugs, not finding any fault in the question. You don’t have the heart to tell her that in the three years you’ve been married to her brother you’ve only had sex once. 

It was your wedding night, extremely awkward and unpleasant for both of you. Norm wasn’t the type to just easily trust someone he didn’t know and you were still nursing a heartbreak he could never comprehend. He wasn’t a bad husband, he was actually amazing. 

You two just seemed to work better as partners rather than husband and wife. You both kept your nightly activities, or lack thereof, to yourselves. It wasn’t exactly smiled upon to not be actively trying to repopulate the earth. But the extremely personal questions about your husband’s sperm and your fertility were beyond annoying. 

Still, everytime you even consider trying again with him you think of Cooper and want to cry. “His sperm count is fine. It just takes longer for some couples.” She doesn’t seem like she wants to let it go, but you force her to by shoving her back towards the broken pipe. 

You know she’s only been bugging you about it because her time in the trade is coming up. She’s just worried that her relationship will be like yours and Norm’s. She wants kids in a way you can’t bring yourself to and she’s worried her fertility takes after her brother’s. 

You understand the fear, but if she asks you one more damn time you’re going to clock her over the head with a hammer. Steph comes up to you both and gives you a placating smile. She must see the murder on your face because she offers to distract Lucy.

You thank her and storm off back to your housing unit. Norm, thankfully, isn’t home when you get there. He’s too perceptive for his own good sometimes. You don’t think you’re mentally there enough to try and lie to him about why you’re upset today. 

You decide to just call it a day. You’ll go to bed and when you get up, it will be time for Lucy’s wedding. You can just look forward to that and ignore the issues within your own marriage. 

You clutch your bleeding stomach while Norm grabs you and drags you under a picnic table. You both watch in stunned, traumatized, silence as your fellow vault dwellers are slaughtered all around you. Norm’s hand is gripping yours so tight you can feel your bones grinding together but you can’t point it out. 

A raider shoots at Bob, the kind old man who would slip you extra jello, and his blood splatters into your open mouth. It’s only a shoulder shot, he could live. But the raider is pulling out his machete and charging towards him. You make to leap out from under the table but Norm yanks you back. 

“Norm!” You hiss, but he just shakes his head. Your eyes widen in disbelief, you can’t believe him. Sitting here and watching your friends just die. You could help, you can’t just sit here. You yank your hand out of his and charge out from under the table. 

Your arms wrap around the raider’s waist and you both go flying. He lands on top of the wedding cake, frosting smearing across his bald head. You wrestle for his machete, eventually ripping it out of his hand. You thrust it up into his chest and he falls limp on top of you. 

You grunt at the impact, slipping on top of Lucy’s ruined cake while you roll him off. Lucy storms down the stairs, holding onto a wound matching yours. She offers you her hand and helps you to your feet. “Norm?” She questions, eyes watering and desperate. You point to where he still sits under the table. 

Across from you Steph grabs a gun and starts mowing down raiders left and right. You’re bending over for the raider’s machete when someone knocks into you from behind. You fall forward, head snapping against the concrete and vision going black. 

You don’t know how that horrible beginning with Cooper Howard started. When exactly you began to fall for him among your betrayal. But you know how it ends. It ends with you following Lucy MacLean out into the brightness of the Wastelands. It ends with his death and the Ghoul’s birth. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

I’m not sure if I’ve put this in my last few posts or not. But, all of my dividers are the creation of @saradika-graphics (give her some love bc she’s amazing)

[thegnomelord]

for the prompt game, if it's still open, maybe 8 with Ghost? maybe with hatefucking and at the point you're both at it's basically a routine but all of the nasty words and cruel moments are really just because you're both brutes that have trouble expressing emotions properly, and all you really want is just some kind of deeper connection with each other, but with your shitty use of words, arguing and eventual growling into into his mouth as you shove him down onto the nearest flat surface is the only way for you to get that. and perhaapps at one point, one of you, reader or ghost doesn't matter, let's something softer and more caring slip through the angry facade? ofc if you already have one for 8 or you just don't like this idea you can im really sorry and you can ignore me, no pressure and I love all your writing :')) <3

Okay anon holy shit this is GOOD! You should think of writing yourself like what I'm seeing in this prompt is good shit :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "If this is a joke it isn't funny."

CW: NSFW, Sub Bot Ghost, Dom Top MReader, hatefucking, degradation, confessions, soft sex,

It always starts the same; Simon's roughly patting your shoulder and telling you to not cock it up, your equally harsh response for him to keep up with you, rough voices hiding the unsaid 'be careful's. Insults like 'dumbass', 'moron', 'dead weight' crackling over the radio when the other's pinned down by fire, the electric static and suppression fire muting the worry in your voice, the hint of care in Simon's tone.

And it always ends the same; harsh stares across the room while you debrief Price, casualty numbers turning into critiques of the other— you should have noticed the terrorist, Simon should have kept the sniper in mind — prickling barbs and venomed words turning into shoves and punches, leaving bruises on each other's skin instead of the kisses you want to lay down.

Soap loves comparing you to dogs, and that's what you are— animals; talking would kill you both so you end up expressing yourselves through teeth and claws. There's blood on your tongue as you push Simon onto the bed and he pulls you down with his teeth digging into your bottom lip, rough fingers pulling away clothes only to push into bruised flesh, drawing hisses and growls.

'I want you' Ghost wants to say, instead "Stop being a pussy," comes out, blunt nails dragging deep scratches down your back. 'I'm happy you're alive' "You fuck as bad as you fight." Simon tastes blood as he kisses you, both of you struggling to pin the other to the bed.

"Shut up." 'I missed you' you snarl and pin him on his front, trapping his massive arms behind his back so he has no support, his head pushed into the pillows and arse high in the air, your thigh parting his legs. You huff a laugh when you see his cock already hard, hanging uselessly between his thighs. "Slag, good for nothing but taking it up the ass." 'I care for you'.

'You're important to me' Simon swallows the blood and spit in his mouth, jerking in a half-hearted attempt to free himself. "'least ah have a use," he growls, chest stuttering for breath as you bear down even more weight on him. You push your fingers into his mouth to wet them and Simon bites down, loving you with his teeth first, the sting of pain binding you together.

"Yeah, as a cocksleeve." 'I'm sorry' You don't give him a warning, just pull your fingers from his mouth and push into his ass. It's only enough lube to not tear him, but the stretch hurts, burns, and Simon both loves and hates how this roughness makes his cock hard and heart flutter.

"That-hah-" Ghost pants into the sheets, eyes prickling with tears with how he tries to keep them open, body forced to submit to you as your fingers stretch him, fuck him, tenderly brushing against his prostate before pushing to the last knuckle, pain and pleasure burning up his spine. "-that's not true."

Pulling out your fingers you give him a sharp slap on his ass, "Sure is," You use what saliva you have on your hand to wet your cock, swirling the drool in your mouth before you spitting right on his hole for extra wetness, your sudden action making his spasming hole clench and relax reflexively. "Look at how you're clenching." You mount him, pushing your weight down on him until he can barely breathe, cock bobbing against his hole. "Acting like such a bitch!"

You ram in him to put emphasis on the word and Simon bites his tongue so hard it bleeds, resisting letting any noises out. He's never vocal in bed, no matter how hard you fuck him, how many bruises your hips leave on his ass or how many hickeys you lay on his throat, how often your balls slap against his, he never utters more than a low groan.

But he wants to; good god Simon wants to tell you how good you feel, how every brush of your cockhead against his prostate has him seeing stars, how much he loves feeling you pound into him, who bodies bound into one by such a primal connection. . . but he can't, his mouth clamps up when he tries and even if he manages to spit something out it just comes out as venom, earning him firm slaps on his ass and your weight bearing further down on him.

You spill into him, pinning him so hard beneath your weight he can barely breathe, only remembering to rub him into an orgasm when your balls are good and empty, cock plugging his hole full of your cum. Your hands are harsh, his panting ringing in your ears until his cock twitches and he cums onto the sheets beneath him, whole body shaking to hold his moans in.

You collapse onto him, just enough sense in your head to roll you two onto your sides so he isn't laying in his spend or suffocating beneath you. Uncomfortable silence rings in your ears as you pant, bile churning in your stomach; This is your usual, soon enough Simon will tell you to shove off, he'll get up, take a piss, and leave.

And this song and dance will repeat until one of you dies.

Even without sight you feel Simon open his mouth, vestiges of harsh words burning on his tongue. Maybe it's post-orgasmic bliss that makes you speak, "Hey," Your hands tighten around his middle, "Stay the night." You curl around him like a lover; something you know you're not.

He shuts his mouth so quickly you hear the 'click' of his teeth, whole body freezing because this is as new for him as it is for you. "If this is a joke," He growls, turns his head just enough for you to catch his glare. "It's not funny."

Your tongue burns with the usual words— 'Only joke here is you' — but you don't, instead a slow and low "I'm not kidding." escapes you, like something forbidden, something to keep secret lest you get divine punishment.

Simon's mind buffers like an old computer, too many thoughts stuffing his head that he can't understand a single one. This is too far removed from the usual, hummingbirds knocking on his skull as a warning. But his body relaxes while he's still thinking, a stagnant breath escaping his lungs. "Fine."

You think of saying something, but it's better not to. Instead you huddle closer to him, still connected in a carnal way but now it feels so much more. . . intimate. Your hands wander over his toros, a gentle exploration instead of a race for release, your fingers carding through his body hair down his happy trail and up again.

Simon's head tils back to give you access to his neck, your lips soft against his skin as you kiss the bruises you'd left, both of your bodies slowly moving to close the small space between you two, urged to share your warmth.

You shift your hips, only realizing you're hard again when Simon moans. Moans. "Sorry," You duck your head, hands gripping his hips to pull out but he stops you, a rough sound in his throat.

"No," Simon doesn't look at you though the blush across his face is easy to spot. "Keep going," Tilting his hips back into yours tears a moan from both of you. Your cum eases the slide in, his walls stretched and pliant, wetly sucking you in like a needy thing.

Another time you'd have laughed at how desperate he's acting, but the low moans and a little "Fuck, just like that," you earn by rolling your hips has your mind shutting off. You can't believe how vocal he's suddenly become, getting louder the slower and gentler you move your hips, your cock slowly pushing in and out of his hole.

You bury your head in his neck and blindly stroke his leaking cock, kissing the skin under your lips, your eyes closed shut as you thrust into him slowly, your tender and slow movements pulling moan after moan out of him. His hand winds back to cup the back of your neck, pulling you up just enough to give you an awkward kiss but it's sweet and raw and so desperate—

You don't notice he's cumming until his walls clamp down on you, Simon whispering "I love you," so soft and quiet under his breath that you don't hear him, too busy filling him up a second time, but your mind buzzes with warmth all the same.

You lay as you were, somehow so exhausted that even moving an inch is anathema to you. Both of you, it seems, if the way Simon's back is warm and pliant against your chest, his breathing slow and steady. Tomorrow you'll need to talk (or do your best substitution of it), but for tonight, you can hug him close and finally have an answer to what it would feel like to have him close without the sex, to just be with him. . .

[ahamkara-apologist]

finally got the chance to draw so I kinda went ham with drawing up a headcanon sheet for the Eliksni, in which I blatantly disregarded the canon skintones and just had fun (i don't really enjoy how pink they are in canon personally- I think they should have more natural colour variation)

Some notes:

-The freckles on Eramis and Variks are just freckles, they're not due to age. As for the alarming amount of minor scratches scarred into Eramis's neck and, to an extent, Misraaks- those are marks from hatchling claws! They're traditionally considered marks of beauty and wisdom in Eliksni society. Eramis has many to mirror her many litters, while Misraaks only has a couple from Eido

-I drew everyone but Taniks bald because I drew Taniks first and then realized later that it kinda obscured my hcs for their individual head shapes, so their setae is on the bottom. Setae is someting that only fully sexually mature adults develop, and is much closer in texture to a horse's mane than human hair. It also runs all the way down the back of their neck, much like a mane, and in some cases (like Taniks) has barbs or hooks along its strands so that ornaments can be woven into it, which is inspiration that I took from decorator crabs

-Eramis's facial scars were given to her by a Guardian at Twilight Gap, and are deep enough that they cut into her nasal cavity. Luckily, it's right near the nostrils anyways so she isn't impacted too bad, but she does have to be careful about keeping it clear of debris. Deep in her eye sockets, she's also had some electrodes installed that link to sensors in her helmet and give her little buzzes/shocks whenever something passes in front of it to help compensate for being half-blind, but it's a pretty crude device that doesn't work all that well on small objects

-Each Eliksni's ethnicity is written below their names, which is why Eido has a question mark. She's a mixed kid- try to guess which Houses her parents might have been from ::3

-The horns/shoulder spines were extra spikes of mineralized chitin that were common on adults in Riis, and were traits that were lost during the Drift. They often were calcium/mineral stores used to show age and fitness, but since resources in Sol are scarce, they no longer grow during molts. Riisborn Eliksni still have horn nubs, but that's about it

-As for the sexual dimorphism thing: that's more just me musing about how slight it would be with my hcs about their reproduction (which involves females laying fertilized eggs into a specialized broodpouch in the male, who then builds on their yolk supply and gives them the calcium needed to form eggshells, and thus needs to be bigger). When given actual Eliksni with a natural range of bodily variation, it would be near-impossible to distinguish them

[another-lost-mc]

Could you do Barbatos and a crybaby mc please?😊

BARBATOS x gn!Reader (platonic or developing feelings/pre-relationship) 1.3k words | SFW | Minor Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff A/N: I'm weak for soft!Barbatos, I can't help it. obey me m.list

Lavish parties at the Demon Lord’s castle require the utmost care and attention to detail. Barbatos might be exceedingly efficient, but he can’t possibly handle all tasks himself. Little Ds and other castle staff assist him so that trays of Demonus and hors d'oeuvres circle the room; guests never need to go far for refreshments.

With the mundane chores assigned to others, Barbatos focuses his energy on serving Lord Diavolo. He follows the young prince like a shadow, observing all the demons that approach him and make polite small talk. Barbatos pays even more attention to the hushed gossip of the other guests around them. Sometimes attendees with loose lips are foolish enough to think they can share secrets here; they don’t realize Barbatos is always listening.

Barbatos is at his master’s side when a conversation nearby draws his attention. It doesn’t take long to pinpoint where the suspicious whispering is coming from. One of tonight’s out-of-realm guests - a witch with a particularly nasty streak - is gossiping about you to her acquaintances. It’s not unusual for visitors in attendance at these events - demons, humans or even angels - to talk about you quietly. Your presence in the Devildom and the feats you’ve accomplished draw a lot of admiration. 

For a smaller group of guests at these events, your achievements makes you a target for scorn and envy. They try to sully your accomplishments with back-handed compliments and barbed insults. The fools that choose to insult you in such a public gathering are usually smart enough to do so discreetly. They should know better than to bully you when they risk being overheard by those that adore you. 

Barbatos fixes his gaze on the group of witches and demons not too far from him. The demons can lie and blame their behaviour on the Demonus in their glasses; the human witch has no excuse Barbatos will accept.

He can ignore the petty, jealous remarks she makes that he knows have no merit. However, the witch’s scathing criticisms of you become uncomfortably personal. She laughs about the way you style your hair, your choice of attire for the evening and how foolish you look trying to blend in amongst the Devildom elite like you belong here. She makes a tasteless joke about the special perks you must experience being in a pact with so many demons, and she cackles loudly enough to be heard over the crowd.

Not too far behind them, Barbatos sees you - your eyes water and he realizes you’ve heard her too. He frowns when he watches you back away from the witch and her friends, eyes shimmering as tears threaten to spill over your lashes and down your cheeks. You turn around and head towards the back of the room, disappearing through a doorway that leads to the gardens.

Barbatos spares a glance over his shoulder. Diavolo is speaking to a group of demons nearby, but their eyes meet. Years of working together allows them to communicate with the slightest gestures; Diavolo nods his permission for whatever it is Barbatos has asked; if the demon needs to step away, it must be for good reason. 

Barbatos weaves through the crowds smoothly and heads towards the doors you fled through not too long ago. His jaw clenches when he hears the witch laughing again; he reminds himself that it would be rude to interrupt his young master’s party with bloodshed. His tail flicks anxiously behind him.

One of the little Ds floats by with a tray and makes a beeline for Barbatos. He declines the offered beverage, but he whispers something to the small demon before exiting to the gardens to find you.

It’s not difficult to figure out which part of the dark garden you’ve taken refuge in. Barbatos follows the sounds of your poorly-concealed sobs to a small marble bench surrounded by a beautiful assortment of Devildom roses. The ground around you is littered with used tissues and you whimper pitifully when your small package of tissues is emptied. 

You don’t hear Barbatos approach, and it’s only when he sits on the bench next to you that you gasp unexpectedly at his presence. You’re overwhelmed with embarrassment - from the witch’s hurtful words and Barbatos finding you like this - and you look away in shame as more tears threaten to fall.

Barbatos places his hand on your tear-stained cheek and turns your face back towards his. He’s not smiling when he wipes away a stray tear. “Come here,” he murmurs when he reaches for you and you let yourself relax into his embrace. He rubs your back when you hide your face in his chest. He can feel your tears start to soak through his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He cradles you through another wave of sobs and he whispers words of comfort.

He waits until the crying subsides before he leans back enough so he can tilt your face up and look at you properly. He pulls out a handkerchief and dabs gently at your cheeks before he hands it to you should you need it again.

Your lips twitch into a small smile, and his eyes track the movement when your lips part and your tongue wets the dry, slightly chapped skin. When his gaze meets yours again, there’s something questioning in your expression, and he can see his reflection in your eyes when he moves closer to you—

A terrible, high pitched shriek coming from inside the castle surprises you, and you scramble away from him. “What was that?!” you ask in a panicked voice.

Barbatos smirks at the sound of ruckus in the distance. “The Little Ds are evicting an unruly guest. They’ll be leaving shortly.”

He pushes away the disappointment that the moment between you is over and he stands. He offers you his hand and pulls you to your feet. You link your arm with his and lean against him. As you walk towards the castle together, you hear the Little Ds giggling maniacally over the sound of dishware crashing on the ballroom floor. 

“What exactly are they doing in there?” you ask Barbatos questioningly.

Before he can answer, the soft splat of cake against the glass doors makes Barbatos sigh. “It looks like they’ve started another food fight. Again.”

He suggested that one of the Little Ds spill a tray of drinks onto the awful witch that would hopefully expedite her departure. He’s not sure what the witch said or did in retaliation that caused the Little Ds to start a brawl. He can see dishes and food flying from within the castle doors. The party has come to an abrupt end, and he hears his young master bidding the guests farewell with barely-concealed amusement. 

“I’m sure Lord Diavolo is thrilled by these developments, but he’s never had to scrape buttercream from gold filigree before—“ Barbatos starts to complain, but he looks over when he hears you make a muffled noise. You’re stifling laughter behind your hand, your eyes bright and teary for a happier reason now. The annoyance he felt starts to fade, and he can’t help but smile too.

Barbatos reaches for his D.D.D. when it pings in his pocket. He stops walking to check his messages, but he motions for you to continue without him.

Diavolo: Number 5 and Number 6 had to drag the witch out of the castle. Everyone else left quietly. Diavolo: Your little stunt worked - too well, perhaps. You should see the state of the chandelier.  Diavolo: I hope the clean-up is worth it.

Barbatos glances at the door where Number 2 has floated outside to see you. He’s telling you about his noble deeds as he mimics the action of throwing something. The little demon has smears of food on him, and you use Barbatos’s handkerchief to wipe away some of the mess. Barbatos feels warmth spread through him when your eyes meet and your smile is so bright it leaves him breathless.

Barbatos: Indeed it is.

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie exchange looks. “Can you tell how long?” Nancy asks.

“Less than a day,” El says, sounding apologetic. “Other than that…” she shakes her head and slips the blindfold off. “I am sorry.”

“You’ve done more than enough, El,” Robin soothes. “Thank you.”

“We have to go after her.” Nancy looks pleadingly at Steve. “You want to save her, too, right? Not just Will?”

“I do,” Steve nods. “I didn’t know how long we’d have. I’d hoped we’d have more time, but it looks like we’ll have to go in twice: once for Barb and Will, and once to kill Vecna.” He looks around the room, focusing on the three boys. “I know Will was the artist, but Lucas, I know you can draw too. If we get you a map, can you find points and direct us?”

Lucas sets his jaw and nods. “I’ll do my best.”

“Okay. Here’s the plan, then: you three, stay here with El.” He looks at Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. “We’ll have walkie talkies, so we can keep in constant communication. El, how long can you stay in that space?”

She looks at him steadily. “I can do it.”

Steve looks at her, then nods. “I trust you. Robs, you’re with me?”

“Just try and get rid of me, Dingus.”

Dingus? Jonathan mouths to Nancy, who shrugs.

“Nance, Jon, and Eddie. You’re with us. We’re getting in and out as fast as we can. If all goes according to plan, we’ll have two more people coming with us on the out. They’ll be weak, but between the five of us, we can and will get them out safely. Robin, you stay here, direct the weapon-making. Make sure I get a bat. I’m going to go get walkie talkies, masks, and a whole lot of first aid supplies.”

“Got it,” Robin nods, then points at Eddie, Jonathan, and Nancy. “You three, with me.” She leads them to the backyard, and Steve knows she’s bringing them to the shed, where his old sports things and various tools are.

He looks to the boys. “Keep working on those plans. We’ll need them for the second attack. El, do you want to rest before we begin?” She considers it, then nods. “Okay. You know where the bed is. I’ll be back in less than an hour, alright?”

She nods and begins climbing the stairs. Steve looks around once more, taking stock, then grabs his keys and walks out the front door.

He gets to the store no problem, walks inside and starts filling his basket. Seven walkie talkies, seven masks, seven pairs of goggles, antibacterial cream, bandages, a suture kit, some ice packs. Two bottles of pain pills. He thinks about it, then makes his way to the front desk, smiling at the employee. “Hey, could I use your phone for a minute, please?”

He looks at Steve, unimpressed, then shrugs and gestures towards it. Steve thanks him and dials his home number.

“Hello?”

“Dustin. Do me a favor and get Eddie?”

“Yeah. One second.”

He hears Dustin yelling for Eddie as he walks outside, then a minute later, Eddie’s on the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Eddie. I grabbed some pain meds, but I’m wondering if they’re going to be strong enough. I can pay you, but could you…”

“Yeah, no, I’ve got it. And no, dude, you’re not paying me. Not for this. I’ll head home and get them right now.”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “Thanks so much, Eds, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Uh, y-yeah, no problem. I’ll, uh, go now.”

“Okay. I’ll probably beat you back. See you there.”

“See you,” Eddie agrees, and they hang up,

Steve looks around for a few more minutes, finds a package of nails, adds those to his basket and goes to check out.

He’s well aware he probably looks like a serial killer, but he knows from experience the cashier is blindly scanning his items.

His luck runs out when Chief Hopper walks in and ambles towards the checkout counter. Steve does his best to keep the sigh internal. “Chief,” he says, giving him a little nod. The chief returns the greeting, peering over into Steve’s basket.

Steve suddenly becomes very interested in the gum options.

“What’s all this?” Hopper asks, inclining his head towards the basket.

Steve shrugs. “A few different things.” Please accept it, please accept it, please accept it-

“Like what?”

Dammit. “Uh… well, I noticed I didn’t have a first aid kit, and I figured I probably should, y’know? And I wanted to do some work around the house.”

Hopper grunts. “The masks and walkies?”

“Um.” Steve blanks. “It’s for a game with my friends?”

Hopper sighs. “If I get a call from your neighbors-”

“You won’t,” Steve says. Promises.

“Fifty-one sixty-four, sir,” the cashier says. Steve’s never been more grateful to be interrupted.

He pays, grabs his things, and sends Hopper a salute on his way out the door. He notices Hopper watching him as he leaves the parking lot, and he forces himself not to speed on the way home.

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[verieriberries]

POWER THOUGHT

bruce wayne x professor utonium from powerpuff girls

like, just think about it

both dads of vigilante/hero children

bruce gets more opportunities to girldad (his fave would deffo be bubbles)

the batkids get an emotionally open figure in their lives

cass, steph, barbs and whatever other daughters bruce has gets more sisters

dami and buttercup would either kill each other on sight or would become allies

dick and blossom eldest daughter core

bubbles and cass do ballet together

tim and professor nerd out w each other

like, PLEASE PLEASE IMAGINE IT

professor utonium transfers to wayne enterprises r&d and like, bonds with tim over science and stuff (tim’s an intern). and of course, bruce wayne has to meet this guys because 1) new employee and it would be rude of Brucie Wayne™️ to not check on him and 2) tim’s been talking about this dude and he wanted to thank the man for not undermining his son’s intellect

and so he goes and whoops, exactly his type. the b in bruce wayne stands for bisexual and there’s two things that get him going: mean women e.g selina & talia and soft men e.g clark in those first years they knew each other and, now apparently included in the list, professor utonium

and the professor DOES NOT shut up about his daughters. dang, more points. although that kinda made bruce a little worried that the professor was a married man but his worries were put to rest when the man confirmed that he had been single ever since he graduated college.

so, should he shoot his shot? survey (tim and alfred) says yes.

that’s still the gist of it but bonus miscellaneous stuff

the number of batkids the batfam has is up to you

the age of the ppg is also up to you

younger ppg (like, 5-8): dami’s not the youngest anymore and he takes pride in being an older brother, dick is just delighted, the girls get a bunch of older brothers and sisters that are all very protective even when they find out that the ppg have superpowers

teen ppg: 95% risk of dami or buttercup killing the other, dick and blossom bonding about being ‘leaders’, bubbles brings a boyfriend home one time and the boyfriend never returned under the terrifying glares of batfam + blossom and buttercup (professor utonium was the only nice one), the ultimate sparring sessions

bruce teaches the ppg hand-to-hand combat and to not rely so much on their powers

batfam gets free laser dodging training courtesy of the girls’ laser eyes and just about any type of training pertaining fighting against superpowered enemies

this has been bugging me all day and i NEED someone with more motivation to draw or write about this. and if you do make art or fics, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TAG ME 🛐🛐🛐🛐

[sky-kiss]

Lucy & Cooper: Eye to Eye

A/N: So short but needed it out of my head. Vague spoilers for the end of Fallout's first season, so be aware.

L & C: Eye to Eye

Vaultie doesn’t talk much for the first couple of days. 

Coop tries not to dwell on it—lot easier for him, lot safer for them, if she keeps her mouth shut. Just…well, hell, it’s one of those things that niggles at him, twitching in the back of his mind like a worm on a hook. Dumb fuckin’ fish that he is, Coop lets it draw him in. 

The ghoul gives her a once-over as they settle in for the night. Blood’s still crusted on her uniform, near the corner of her mouth, some of it flecked into her hair. A mottled bruise stretches across her cheek and up over her temple, purple at its center before paling to yellows and greens on the edges. Coop knows it hurts, but Vaultie doesn’t say shit. 

A noose and a prolonged stay on death’s door, dehydration, and irradiation hadn’t shut her up, but she’s sitting there, staring into the fire, all banged up and silent. 

Cooper chews a sardine ponderously. There’s no taste, not anymore, just the tension of flesh and little bones giving way beneath his teeth. He grunts before sliding the rest of the tray across to her. Vaultie doesn’t take it. He clucks his tongue. “Eat when then eatin’ is good, Vaultie. Get deeper into the Wastes and…well.” he shrugs as if the silence should be all the answer she needs. And it should be, but she just goes on staring with her huge doe eyes. 

“I’m not hungry.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds. “Thank you.” 

“Do what you like. You’re a big girl. And I ain’t your daddy.” 

The phrase jostles something in her head. Vaultie’s whole face screws up—nose scrunching, lips curling—and she opens her mouth as if to speak, only for it to snap shut. A muscle twitches in the corner of her mouth and it’s…it’s a hell of a thing. 

He doesn’t see his daughter in her face…doesn’t see Barb. He’s looking in a mirror. It’s two centuries ago, and he’s staring at himself—all offended dignity as he reads something unsavory in a script or listens to a suit wax philosophical about a battlefield they’ll never see.  

Vaultie must clock something about his reaction. All the stiffness leaves her posture. She just…deflates, eyes dropping. “I know that,” she says, voice soft. Not the “let me de-escalate this situation” bullshit she’d put on in Filly…just human. Very human and so tired. “I’m sorry—it was wrong of me to snap at you.” 

Coop almost laughs. He holds his arms out wide instead. “No harm done.” 

She goes back to her staring, back to her silence. Something howls off in the distance.  

Out of nowhere, and because it’s all just fuckin’ disorienting—the silence, having somebody around again—the ghoul says, “Reckon you’ll kill him?”

“Excuse me?” 

He picks nonexistent grit out of his teeth and spits. “Think you know exactly who I mean, sweetheart.” Vaultie cocks her head to the side. Firelight licks at her skin—it makes his hard lines harder, edges more jagged, but for her? She looks soft and young…a gross oversimplification. There’s steel in her eyes. Coop shrugs, flashing a smile that must look horrible. She doesn’t shrink back. “You find it offends your finer sensibilities and I’ll do it for ya.” 

“No.” Her tone leaves no room for debate. 

“Vaultie, that’s not a word I’m in the habit of hearing.” 

“It’s Lucy,” she corrects. “And I…said what I said.” The girl hugs her arms around herself. “He’s still my dad. I don’t want him…” Vau..Lucy pauses. Her brow furrows, “...Well, I guess I don’t know what I want yet. But…I have time.” 

“Less and less of it every day.” 

She screws up her nose again. “Maybe. But it’s my choice.” It’s the damnedest thing: the words just hang there for a second, silence broken by the crackle of the fire. And then she seems to actively register what she’s said. It’s Lucy MacLean’s choice. She smiles and nods—brilliant and bloodied and somehow still clean. “But…thank you for offering.” 

Like he’s suggested giving up his seat on the bus and not filling her daddy full of lead. Fuckin’ Vaulties…Coop shakes his head, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

[avonne-writes]

Appreciation Tag Game

rule: tag as many creators as you'd like and for each of them, choose a favourite line/art/gif/edit from their work and tell them why you liked it.

I came up with a new tag game, lovelies, to share some appreciation for each other! And in this one, not only writers but creators of any other medium can participate 🥰 I'm tagging a lot of people to start this out, but you can tag as few or as many as you'd like!

@hogans-heroes - The Boy Who Lived

"He didn’t want to die, but he found that now he knew it was happening, now that every breath felt like a year—a new birth, a cold lifetime in his lungs—every second he held Gale was precious enough to make the life he had lived worthwhile."

This beautiful, emotional line made me tear up and think of how we should all focus on the things that make every breath worthwhile. I love that to Bucky, it was Gale.

@swifty-fox - my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

"Him I will always forgive."

I could quote back the entire fic, it’s so packed with amazing lines, but this time, I wanted to highlight this one, because I think forgiveness is one of the most important themes of this story, and with only 5 words, this line perfectly captures Gale’s love and devotion to John as well.

@carnevol - this gifset

I knooow, I’m biased, but I think this is such a moving edit, with the way you layered the march scenes on each other and the barbed wire graphic, plus the beautiful highlight of the word love. I love this gifset!

@rambleonwaywardson - Olympics AU part 2

“Mmm.” Gale takes another sip, lets Bucky stew in silence, as if he has to think about it. Then the corner of his mouth pulls up in that way that Bucky is coming to love, and he says, “it’s good.” So Bucky leans towards him, grabs the hair at the back of his head, and he kisses him. The taste of whiskey collides with notes of cognac and lemon, smokey and sweet. He kisses Gale in a way that he’s rarely kissed anyone else before: gentle and wanting, asking and taking, soft and smooth like a love song. And Gale lets him.

I love how Gale teases him by taking his time to reply, I could imagine it so clearly! And then their first kiss was so sweet and beautiful, perfectly fits the slow, comforting, romantic vibe of this chapter. I really enjoy their chemistry.

@crowthis - this fanart

I think the dynamism of this sketch is amazing! I love how the lines and the way John and Gale's forms are more detailed than the background draw the focus to them. Not to mention how, I think, we all wish this was canon!

If you're tagged, please keep the game going (but no pressure if you don’t want to) 🥰

[fluorescentbalaclava]

training season's over

Chapter 6: Contact

Summary:

Contact (mil.) Contact with the enemy.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, militar inaccuracies, sugestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, seeing König again

previous: chapter five "R&R"

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀

3 months later

"Listen---"

"---don't try to fuck us over. I know, Ghost, you tell me that every time," You whispered with a sigh, looking at him who was already looking at you, furrowing your brows. Already had the same conversation many times.

"Besides I've been on my best behaviour, you should give me some credit." You muttered, both of you were crawling on the ground, hiding in tall grass.

"Giving you credit for not betraying us? Fat chance," He mumbled back, making you roll your eyes.

Simple mission: Infiltration, one of your favourites. Ghost was against the idea of giving you that much freedom on the field, but Price decided that you were proven trustworthy enough to send you alone to steal some intel for an upcoming mission: coordinates for a delivery on the ports and its destination, that were kept inside a bunker disguised as an abandoned base. Of course, you were still wearing the ankle monitor, but at this point you got used to it, even put some stickers on it and Soap decided to draw a small foamy soap with a marker while you were taking a nap on the couch.

Price did allow Ghost to go with you to keep you in check, and watch your six while you got in.

It's been almost two months since Sage died, back on that private island, along with the Russian guard. And apparently Wire was born, as Soap considered it a more appropriate nickname for you, and quickly everyone followed, even Laswell. You had to admit that the double meaning behind it, alluding to the barbed wire you used that day and the fact that they kept joking about you being a spy was clever. You would still miss Sage, anyway.

On the bright side, they seemed to feel more comfortable using it rather than your other callsign, you guessed that it helped them to separate the “KorTac merc” from you. So, despite rolling your eyes when they first started using it, you grew accustomed to it.  Although sometimes you didn’t turn around when they called you by it, forgetting your change of identity.

Ghost stayed back, letting you keep crawling through the fields alone. The breeze was nice, and the scent of the flowers was lovely, the ants not so much. Ghost freed one of the watch towers, eliminating the sentinel, and you secured a rope to climb, as he kept carefully shooting anyone who walked too close to his liking.

Ah, the coldness and the metallic smell of the vents, how I missed it.

After about 4 minutes you stopped, thinking you might have heard something in the distance, a muffled sound. After a minute or so of more silence, you decided to keep going until you saw the security room under you.

You carefully opened the air vent, putting the grill inside it, and with a swift movement you were down, your feet light against the ground.

The guard seemed distracted enough, not turning around and his face still facing the screens. Your eyes were fixed on him, as you took the knife out of your utility belt, holding it tight in your hand.

You crept up to him, knife in hand, and with a quick movement you grabbed him by the forehead to reveal his neck to your blade.

But something was wrong.

When you moved him, his whole dead weight fell to the side, landing on the floor. Lifeless.

You looked at him disconcerted, and just then you saw that the front of his uniform was already drenched with blood, the cut on his neck was still fresh enough to notice that someone got to him minutes before you.

"Maus?" You heard behind you, eyes widening and the grip on your knife tightening.

You turned around almost immediately, only to find König's towering figure about five feet away from you.

Back in KorTac you would joke to him, saying that it was impossible for the targets not to hear him coming, but now that you were in that place, he was silent, as if he materialized out of thin air. You neither heard or saw him, but a quick look around revealed an open maintenance closet where he was hidden, from where he heard some noises from the vent and saw it opening.

He recognized you on the spot, the way you fell from the vent as he peeped from inside the janitor closet, your hair in that bun, the way you stalked the man before attempting to strike. It was hard to recognize you with all that heavy gear, as he saw you wearing more scarce and light equipment before. At first, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't you, you would never wear camo and that 'awful military green' as you usually called it. But when he caught a glimpse of your eyes, he couldn't deny it.

You felt all your blood go to your arms and legs, staring into his eyes, the only part that his sniper hood left uncovered, black paint smeared around them, and he stared down back at you. Your brain immediately switched into survival mode. König was around 6'10” tall; you knew you were good, but you weren't that good, he would clearly overpower you in hand-to-hand combat. If you attacked him with your knife in hand, a quick strike on the neck could do, but you could also get yourself killed faster. If I reach for my gun I could probably---

But you were quickly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt him almost jumping at you, his hands quickly constricting around your body...but not in a harmful way.

He seemed to purposefully hold back, his touch careful. One hand wrapped around your waist while the other went behind your neck, as he leaned down and buried his face on the crook of your neck, holding you tight against him, your arms trapped on the sides of your body. A hug. You felt almost embarrassed that you were thinking about killing him. On the other hand, he was just glad that you kept using that bubblegum scented body wash.

"Krass! Maus, ich bin so glücklich, ich dachte, du wärst tot und niemand hat über dich gesprochen und---" He started saying in a hurried voice, as you were frozen in his arms, still processing what was happening. You have him a few awkward pats on his back with your free hand.

"König, english?" You asked softly, and he pulled away, looking down at you once again. His blue eyes filled with concern, looking into yours with familiarity, tenderness.

"I thought you died! I tried to ask about you and no one would say anything" he said in the same voice, a mix of excitement and anxiousness. "What the hell happened?"

"It's a long story" you said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by him, who was visibly thrilled to see you once again, and still slightly confused. "I got captured."

"Scheiße..." He muttered, and you could tell he was frowning under his hood. He then looked away, seemingly thinking about something. Before he started again. "We could go back to KorTac, explain to them all of this, and you're one of their best assets..."

You looked up at him, narrowing your eyes. One of their best assets? Probably his fondness of your talking for him. You were efficient, good at best, but still disposable. However, you kept listening to him, as he got progressively more carried away with his idea.

"...they could even relocate you to another country for a while, and cover your tracks, then we---"

Could you really do that? Just escape now in the middle of this mission? Would KorTac even want you back at this point? Or be willing to spend those many resources in helping you? They didn't even talk about you to König when he asked. Then your eyes drifted to the screens next to you. Your thoughts went back to being sat on the common room, sitting in the middle of Gaz and Soap, and them laughing at you as you sipped from the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” mug they got you back in town. Price was a nice commanding officer, he was clearly experienced, and it was nice to be bossed around by someone who was actually in the field with you, rather than behind a desk. Ghost…was Ghost, he still didn’t talk to you when off duty, but he kept it professional while working.

And even if you and König were relatively close, you never sat down like you did with your sergeants with him, your talks were limited to sharing one hour when he was at base and conversations while travelling. You didn’t know what he liked outside explosives and sniper rifles of which he, very often and with a childlike enthusiasm, talked about. And this was the first time he ever touched you, let alone a hug.

When you joined KorTac, you ghosted most of your friends back home, completely going off the radar from them, even when they tried to reach out through your parents, your excuse was that you were too busy now. So, friends were scarce at the time.

And your parents. Fleeing would not only mean running away from the 141 but also from your family. Who would send them money if you ran away? The mortgage, healthcare, bills, they were too much for them. You didn’t see them frequently, but the idea of not seeing them ever again made your stomach turn.

And of course, you would become a wanted criminal.

"König!" He snapped out of his rambling and focused his eyes again on you, tilting his head.

"I can't" You softly said. Your voice too strained to your liking, as you looked up at him.

He still hasn't let you go fully, still embracing you, just put space between you to be able to talk.

"W-What do you mean you can't?" He said shaking his head, clearly confused. In his mind, it was the obvious course of action.

You felt his grip tighten around you, and your comm cracked.

"Wire, how copy?" Ghost's voice said through the comm, sounding slightly impatient, prompting König to look at the source of the voice on your shoulder, and then at you again.

"Almost there, need a sec" You answered not taking off your eyes from the man towering over you.

"Wire? Was that the lieutenant of the 141?" he said drifting from your face to look down to your geared body, as if he was connecting the pieces, trying to make sense of the situation.

“You are working with them.” He said as realization hit him.

"But why, Maus?"

"I have a family, König. I can't live on the run, and they offered me a deal if I worked with them…I…I can't go to jail" You explained, looking up at him furrowing your eyebrows in distress, and you pulled down your face mask, letting him see your face fully. If it was possible, his eyes became even gentler at the sight of your face, his gaze taking in every detail.

"Family…? I didn't know" He answered in a faint and soft tone, looking down for a moment.

Then he looked at you for a few more seconds, that felt hours. He felt conflicted.

König wasn't dumb, he knew that every time you spoke to him you only revealed surface level information about yourself. Except from your PTSD, that probably was too heavy a burden to keep to yourself. Then, his hand moved from the back of your neck to your temple, as he gently traced the scar that peeked out of your hairline, going into your hair. His glove was surprisingly soothing against your scalp.

He still remembers the day you were captured. The mission went wrong, Konni soldiers were waiting for you, it was a set up; he remembers the unsettling calmness in which you explained the tortures you went through in those four days you were missing. Tied up, without food nor water, as you were constantly deprived from sleep, waterboarded, tortured with electricity, beaten up…he still remembers when the initial shock faded, and was soon replaced by anxiousness, grief, fear. He knew well about that. He remembers when you finally broke down and confessed that you could barely sleep at night, haunted by memories of being tied up, in the darkness, alone, or of your captors beating you. He tried to sooth you, to explain to you it was normal, but you needed help. Weighted blankets, sleep with a light on, drinking chamomile before bed, he recommended you what worked best for him, as well as therapy. How he wished he would have hugged you like this back then.

It took you a few months until you went back to being fully functional, he tried to take you out of your room in the barracks for a walk or tea, when he was in base, which he admits wasn’t as frequent as he would have wanted. The first time you smiled again was while on a truck, going back to the safe house KorTac had in Berlin. You showed him a photo of the little animal figures you bought, he didn’t understand what they were exactly or their purpose, but he was glad they brought you joy.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he let out a sigh, finally pulling away from you, basically forcing himself to. He slowly reached for his belt, making you flinch and instinctively raised the hand with the knife, to which he rose his other hand in surrender, as he reached inside one of his pockets, pulling out a flash drive, offering it to you.

"This is all the intel we found. There's a whole KorTac team here, I am leading Delta today. You and your new...friend, should go."

"König?" He reached for his handgun, spinning it on his hand and offering it to you.

"You moved too fast, you stole my weapon and shot me, and you fled with the intel. Nothing I could do to catch you. And I didn’t even saw your face, it was all too quick." He said with a sigh, but still gentle. You grabbed the weapon with a bit of doubt and inspected it before looking up at him again.

"I'm not going to shoot you. I could just knock you."

"Be serious, Maus." He said in a tone that said that it wouldn't be believable, and you would be mad if it wasn't true.

"It's okay, I don't mind" he said softly again, reassuring you.

"König, I'm not going to shoot you" you said in a firm tone, the one that usually made him slightly uneasy, but you were now met with a determined demeanour.

"Then they'll know I let you run away with the intel, and I'll face the consequences for my lack of judgement" You can't remember a time when you heard him so decided about something, let alone getting shot.

You groaned and reluctantly lifted his gun. You didn’t want him to get in trouble, he loves his job.

Thigh is out of the question, as well as torso. Feet are not fatal but crippling...

Shoulder.

He must have seen you aim there, taking a deep breath to try to ease your tension at the necessity of shooting someone who you consider close.

"Avoid the brachial artery, and if you could kindly avoid the---"

"Humerus because it's painful, and branchial plexus or you won't be able to move your arm. I know" you said looking straight to his shoulder before your eyes drifted back to his eyes. His gaze still fixed in you.

"I...I can't"

"Yes, you can, Maus. And we're running out of time. It's a 22. calibre, if you shot on pectoralis minor avoiding my bones and arteries, I'll be fine. Will be an in-and-out. Flesh wound. Textbook," There's nothing textbook about this.

You took another deep breath, your eyes focusing on the spot, until they drifted back to König, and his gaze still felt unbelievably soft, despite the situation. You have worked with him since you joined KorTac, your commanding officer…your friend. He saw you become who you are.

"Thank you" You whispered to him, gratefulness in your voice.

He nodded, and the way his eyes were creasing made you believe he might be smiling.

Across the hallway, Delta-3, who was shooting the last remaining witness with his silencer, heard a singular gunshot. Coming from the same door where their C.O. disappeared a few minutes ago. He quickly alerted the others.

König didn’t have a big reaction. He squeezed his eyes shut while he grunted before he told you to flee. And you thanked him one last time before you jumped back into the vent.

"Ghost, I have the intel, but I've been compromised. Building is filled with KorTac operators. Meet you at the exfil point." You muttered as you were quickly crawling through the vents again, hearing behind you screams in German and in English calling for back-ups. He was kind enough to give you a two-minute advantage.

You went down the rope on the side of the building, from the watch tower you used to get into, and ran as fast as you could through the fields. When you were half on the way you heard screams, quickly followed by shots on the ground and the trees beside you, before your figure was lost over a hill, making König let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

You kept running until you saw the Jeep that you used to get there, with Ghost already sitting on the driver seat, the motor already on.

However, when relief was washing over you, panting from the long sprint over the hill as you opened the passenger door, you quickly met the end of a gun pointing at you. First you looked back in confusion…then in fear, but you raised your hands slowly, meeting his eyes.

"Ghost..." You managed to make out, your words were slow and careful. Your mind already too clouded with emotions from your encounter with König.

"KorTac, huh?" His tone was cold, cutting right through you.

"I didn't know! I even had to shoot one of them" Not mortally, and he let me, but still technically true. "Laswell checks all my devices, I never leave the base, you have a tracker on me. Hell, I can't betray you even if I wanted.”

Ghost was not one to trust, especially you. You were in the comfort of your flat, bought with your mercenary money, crossing paths with him, and pretending you weren't into his team like a damn leech. He had to admit you were a good liar in general, probably the reason why you were on the job.

"Simon…please." You pleaded, your hands still up, your voice almost a whisper. His jaw tightened, biting into nothing.

He knew that you were calling him by his name as a desperate attempt of moving something in him, to make him think of you as someone somehow familiar, to make him trust you. He hated that it somewhat worked. His eyes were locked on your face, studying it. When you would talk to him on the lift, or when you arrived to your flat, in your eyes, he could see that you were lying. It was just a hint, something quick, easy to miss if someone wasn’t looking for it in the first place. But today he didn't find that, he saw something else. You were telling the truth, and you were genuinely terrified.

He moved his thumb, putting the safety back on, and lowered his gun.

You breathe again, your body is still tense, and with your heart still pounding in your chest, you quickly get into the car.

You spend the next hour on a very silent road back to the airport.

As every Tuesday night, you were in the common room, sitting on the couch with Soap and Gaz, watching the Great British Bake Off, a new season. You liked it, it temporarily numbed your brain, and having company was soothing.

"I miss the old guys. I still can't believe that cunt won" Soap groaned, leaning back to the arm of the couch. He had his legs over it, and a notebook resting on his legs as he seemed not focused on the TV but in the paper in front of him.

"Bonnie, can you lift your chin a bit?" He asked, to which you just raised your face slightly, complying. Still focusing on the screen, attentively hearing today's recipe.

"It's been like one month, get over it" Gaz said, and when he heard Soap's request, he turned to him, peeping over his legs into his journal. He saw a halfway sketch of your profile, along with other small drawings like your mug and a sketch of Riley. He then added.

"Drawing her like one of your French girls? Very smooth, MacTavish" he said teasingly, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, she saw my journal and she asked me to. Besides she is still dressed..." He said defensively. He had to admit that having an excuse to stare at you was pleasant.

“…for now," He muttered under his breath with a small smirk, jokingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"And I intend to keep it that way," You said back.

Gaz and you were watching attentively how one of the new contestants was putting his broken ganache aside, clearly frustrated as she started a whole new batch.

"She should try to melt it and whisk it. Still can be saved" A familiar husky voice said from behind the three of you.

All of you turned around, only to find a nonchalant Ghost, with his mask over the bridge or his nose, sipping on his tea and watching the TV.

Simon purposefully avoided the common room on Tuesdays, not wanting to perturb whatever ritual you had going on with Gaz and Soap, and to avoid you. The image of you, blood stained, sitting next to the guard you just butchered returned to his mind more than he would like to admit. The man was easily a head taller than you, bigger than you, and yet he was laying dead, face almost disfigured by your hand. He couldn’t help but being impressed, as he assumed you were only good to shove yourself into small spaces and stalk. Knowing that you were capable of such carnage, despite your size, sparked something in him. He hated that. But he appreciated the resourceful use of the barbed wire.

When you were in the jeep, silent and still shaken with adrenaline beside him, he felt a tingle of guilt from pointing a gun at you. He knew he was justified, as the whole situation felt oddly suspicious, but Price was right, you weren’t giving any reasons to doubt you, and you were right as well, as you were heavily monitored to even try something out of the ordinary. His thoughts were divided between apologizing and don’t, both sides had good arguments in his head. So, showing up was a middle ground. An olive branch, sort of speak.

"You bake?" Soap asked in an incredulous tone, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"I know a few things," He answered before taking another sip.

"How come you never bake anything for us?" Soap asked again, this time sounding outraged.

"You never asked."

chapter seven: coming soon!

Sorry for taking so long! Had a few small issues but I'm feeling inspired again! Will be updating soon <3

Thank you to the lovely people following this! : @no-lessthan3, @blush-haze, @eustassh, @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

[koolades-world]

Obey me! but with the brothers having had always been demons, formed in kid/baby-form as manifestations of the seven deadly sins. Lucifer was raised as the right hand man of Diavolo, appointed the brother of Mammon, then Levi, then Asmo etc. etc.

A version where they are more depraved and dark than they otherwise would've been 'cause they were essentially raised in the outermost layer of hell (think VERY questionable morals, moves like uncanny valley characters, where Satan tears and rips beings apart in his fits of rage, they don't understand MC's sense of right and wrong). I wonder how Lucifer and his brother's dynamics would have been with each other, with Diavolo and Barbs growing up. Would Belphie still have hated Diavolo for his absolute authority? Would baby satan still have formed as a manifestation of Lucifer's wrath, again adding to his rage due to his circumstances?

Lilith based on mythology was described as the 'queen of demons'. If the story was somewhat compliant to that, imagine she fell into the Devildom after the whole 'fall-in-love-with-human shtick' and Diavolo fell in love/took pity on her, which the brothers didn't respect or understand at the time (why feel bad for someone who fell in love with a puny mortal?). The bitter parallels it would draw when they fall in love with MC years down the line.

Imagine that instead of just reincarnating her soul as a human, Dia REPLACED the soul of a human infant with hers (again, being very morally dubious). Maybe he saw it as an interesting experiment of sorts, to see if it would have any effect her human off-springs. He purposely kept an eye on her descendants (hence, mc being brought into the DD). Cunning, manipulative and conspiring Diavolo (Soo-won type character) omgomg

I want the brothers to legitimately handle otherworldly, gory demonic entities (think of that monster from nocturne of nightmares), sort political Devildom affairs, kill/mess around with humans instead of just sitting around attending the demon-equivalent of highschool! They're eons old for crying out loud, why subject yourself to 1000's of years of the Academy??? If anything, their attendance at RAD should be a refresher course that happens for 5 - 10 years once or twice every century or so.

AKA Obey Me! but more Devildom-centric, where the characters got to actually deliver their role in Diavolo's government, where Diavolo had ulterior motives making the exchange program (perhaps to instigate an uprising, an all-out war to overthrow the demon king?). Where the other characters are actually fleshed out instead of just meaningless plot-devices (Barbatos with his powers, Monsolo, Lilith, and etc. all had so much potential)!

Sorry I wrote a lot, this is just everything I hoped OM! would be.

NO OMG I think about this sometimes too!! like I know why they didn't do it but still can't help but wish for more

demons are often depicted as everything but sweet and kind, which is what we see in the game. dia would not be this golden retriever type character (although I love that) he's supposed to be the next king, so he would be much more devious as for lack of a better word. god i wish they explored barb so much more. like why are we brushing over him like he's part of the wall?? he's so powerful it's insane. I'm glad solomon is getting more of a spotlight in nightbringer but I hope they use it to its full extent. i also wish they explored the general worldbuilding more and made it feel more real, like there's stuff outside the relationships mc has with the named characters

i absolutely love the lilith queen of demons thing, like it makes sense as to why it was mc in specific. of course they would bring back someone that important to them over and over again

another thing that feels totally ignored is that it's hell!! most people there are there for a reason! while personally don't know where the line should be drawn for what counts as being a sinner or not, for a fact i know that mc would 100% be meeting murders down there, like actually terrible people.

you put this entire thing so wonderfully so i hope you don't mind if I incorporate aspects of this into my obey me as horror piece! like don't get me wrong I love my silly little demons but realistically they would be anything but silly lol

[jesterjaxx]

Scott?

Honestly my guilty pleasure is drawing scott with cowboy outfits because that shit fucks severely

Hes a dirt boy, he prioritizes functionality and cheapness over any fashion so i think hed be drawn to denim, and leather as well as owning a lot of hand me downs hes definitely a little sentimental over. But also has an affinity for shiny things.

(I love how half of these fashion/outfit rq are just me planning future drawings)

Leather belt with a buckle thats been passed down through the oldest men of the family id like to think it has a wolf or something on it but after years of wear it more resembles a rat

Old cowboy boots caked with mud and well broken in

Not fashion but i know in my heart of hearts hes covered in scars from everything from ripping his arm open on barbed water chasing a shithead neighbor of their property to walking into a rake like elmer fudd

Lot of wife beaters and button ups, some few T shirts that were gifted

I think he should have a chain or necklace of some kind that his dad gave him

Bandana, cowboy hat, something to cover from the sun

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 7: THE BATHTUB

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: I can't believe we only have two more episodes left! Thank you all for your patience! Let me know what y'all think. I read everything and respond!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3252

Masterlist

PART I || PART II ||

HAWKINS POLICE STATION – CHERRY STREET

As soon as I open the front door, a gust of cold wind blows and I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. The cool air feels nice on my skin despite the cold. I wish I wore a jacket instead of a plaid shirt. I look around trying to figure out where I should go. I can’t walk too far away from the station in case Chief Hopper comes back. I decide to go left up Cherry Street. The series of unfortunate events leading up to this moment all play out in my head and I rub my temples trying to ease the dull pulsating ache. 

Today, Jonathan, Nancy and I started to forge a plan to kill the monster and find Will and Barb. How will we find them in that place? How will we find the tree? It closed after Jonathan pulled me out of it. I can’t imagine how alone and scared Barb must be inside that place by herself. It’s been days since I last saw her and with the police thinking she left town; they won’t try finding her. The Hollands. I blink back tears, flaring my nostrils to keep them from falling. I hope they don’t think badly of Nancy and I for lying. I feel like we owe it to them to find Barb and bring her back. I wipe my tears with the back of my hand, sniffing softly.

There are still so many loose ends to tie up like where can we lure the monster if not in the forest where it lives? How do we have the upper hand in killing the monster? Hawkins is a small town, there is nowhere to put this thing without drawing attention to ourselves especially now that we are on the radar of cops. I let out a noise of frustration, stomping on the ground. How are we going to execute the plan now? Nancy and I can’t leave Jonathan at the station. What if they put him in jail? 

If it weren’t for Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve, we would be able to properly plan.

This all happened because Jonathan was in Nancy’s room? There’s no doubt in my mind that they weren’t doing anything compromising. How could they after what happened? Nancy almost died last night. If it weren’t for Jonathan who knows what could have happened to her—to me. Also, Nancy liked Steve too much to do anything that could jeopardize her relationship with him. The voice in the back of my head questions: But what about Jonathan? 

As if you didn’t know from the start, Sinclair! It would explain why you’re always protecting the pervert.

I frown pushing strands of hair away from my face. It’s clear Steve and Jonathan do not like each other. I thought it was because of stupid boy ego and bravado. Both boys can be arrogant. It explains why they clash. But I feel unsettled by what Steve said in the alley. As if you didn’t know from the start. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t believe it to be true, would he? 

Only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart. And that damn stupid. 

I don’t agree with what Flo said to Nancy and I about Jonathan’s reasons for fighting back in the alley, but with all that has happened this week, all that was said, especially in the forest about believing Nancy was “trying to be someone else” yet doing what every other suburban girl does, rebel until the phase passes and end up marrying “some boring one-time jock who now works sales, and live out a perfectly boring life at the end of a cul-de-sac”. I didn’t realize it back then, but now that I think about it, Jonathan was talking about Steve. I stop walking and look around. It’s like everything clicked and that unsettling feeling became stronger, heavier. 

Does Jonathan like Nancy? 

My brain feels like a tangled web of confusion. How did I not notice it before? The signs are all there. It was all subtle and platonic in the moment, but the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. I laugh in disbelief shaking my head. 

This is such a mess.  

I shiver against the strong gust of wind whooshing in my ear and tuck my chin into my chest, continuing to walk. Neither Jonathan or Steve hid their dislike for each other. Part of me regrets standing up for Steve yesterday, especially after today. But the argument in the forest was about Jonathan taking those photos. It always comes down to that stupid lapse in judgement. Though I don’t agree with Steve breaking Jonathan’s camera, I understand why he did it. To protect Nancy’s honour and to protect himself. As I told Jonathan, Steve’s privacy was violated too. All of ours were. What Jonathan did was gross and Steve did what he thought was best. Steve had a right to be upset. 

He just takes it too far.

Breaking Jonathan’s camera, the marquee, the awful things he said to both Nancy and Jonathan. I know Steve is hurt. I saw it in his eyes. From his perspective the optics aren’t great. He did what he thought was right in the moment to protect Nancy, checked up on her to see if she was okay, only to find Nancy in her room with Jonathan, the boy he was trying to protect her from. I get it, but the rigmarole after. Unacceptable. 

Steve wanted that fight with Jonathan back in the alley and Jonathan was ready to give him that fight. A chill runs down my spine. The sound of skin hitting skin replays in my head. The power behind every punch still scares me. For as long as I’ve known Jonathan, he’s been a quiet, somewhat brooding person who often kept to himself. He doesn’t bother nor really talk to anyone. It was always him and his camera. It’s why the way he was fighting Steve concerned me. 

Even though our little brothers are best friends, this week has been the most I have ever spoken to Jonathan. We’ve exchanged a few words when I helped him with his photography project, but other than that, we rarely crossed paths. I am aware of his home life based on what Lucas would say during dinner about Will not being able to come over to hang out with the rest of the boys because he’s spending time with his dad. Based on his tone alone, it’s clear Will is uncomfortable around him. At the funeral, I remember observing the way he was acting. There was something sly about Mr. Byers because I haven’t seen or heard about him until Will’s funeral. It’s clear he isn’t present in both boys lives because Jonathan doesn’t know how to tie a tie. Even when Steve was saying horrible things about his dad, Jonathan didn’t flinch. 

“Excuse me, sorry,” I say, pushing past a couple standing in the middle of the street. 

He didn’t do anything until Steve started saying terrible things about Miss Byers and Will. I looked in his eyes, that flash of rage, but it was too late. Jonathan’s punches were direct and intentional…familiar almost. Where did he learn to fight? Did his dad teach him? Or was Jonathan used to having to protect himself all the time? Even though our unlikely alliance came out of something tragic, I like being around him. I care about him. I puff out my cheeks, running my fingers through my hair. There was so much I needed to talk to Jonathan about. 

HAWKINS CINEMA

My feet come to a stop in front of the building that started it all. I stare up at the large marquee feeling many different emotions all at once. Shock. Disgust. Anger. Disappointment. It’s been almost 45 minutes since I first saw the horrible display of affection and though there wasn’t a crowd circling Hawkins Cinema to see the spectacle, the bright red letters still commanded attention. 

NANCY THE SLUT WHEELER

How did we get here? The question has been burning a hole in my brain all morning. I scowl at Tommy’s messy handwriting. That boy is the absolute worse. The unsettling image of Tommy watching me from afar makes me sick to my stomach. It’s one thing to pick on me, but to follow me around and loathe me for talking to someone who has been nothing but kind to me. I clench my hands into fists, grinding my teeth against each other. The perception people have of Eddie is starting to annoy me and I can’t help but feel protective of him. He’s not like anyone in town and I can relate to that. Being different. Eddie makes it look easy and I love that about him. I envy that about him as well. 

From the corner of my eye, I see a tall person and glance in their direction. Realizing who it is, I scoff shaking my head. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Sinclair?” 

I ignore Steve walking fast back down Cherry Street.

“Hey, wait!” Steve shouts. I keep my head down avoiding the confused stares of bystanders.

“Sinclair!”

I press my lips together feeling the bubbling anger in my stomach rise to my chest. Sinclair? Who does he think he is, calling me Sinclair. As if I’m a teammate on the basketball team. He knows my name. I look around ready to cross the street when I feel Steve run up beside me.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” He pants, holding his side. 

“No.” I say looking anywhere to avoid looking at him. When the coast is clear I jog across the street. 

“Please,” Steve huffs jogging beside me. “Just hear me out.” 

“No.” 

“Look, I just want to apologize.” 

I roll my eyes, snorting in disbelief. “Again? Save it. I don’t need an apology because I know you’re going to do something for it to not mean anything.”

“Oh, c’mon, Sinclair—”

I whip around so fast Steve flinches as my hair hits him across his chest. “Don’t call me that!” I snap, glaring angrily at him. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t say anything! Leave me alone!” 

Steve’s brows shoot up in surprise. As suspected looking at Jonathan’s swollen knuckles, the entire left side of his face is battered and bruised. From the split on his left brow, the bridge of his nose and right side of his lip in addition to all the dry blood smeared and crusting around his face, Jonathan got him good. I would’ve been more horrified and compassionate if it weren’t for what he did to get beaten and how rude and impolite he is to me right now. 

I walk pass him continuing down Cherry Street. The nerve of him. I am not one of his loyal followers. I am not his friend, especially after what he did and said back in the alley. I perk up feeling another wave of anger build in me. Jonathan, Nancy and I had to be escorted to the police station while, Tommy, Carol, Nicole and Steve got off scot-free when they were the ones causing the problems in the first place. No one has been accounted for that disgusting sign, yet Jonathan is literally handcuffed for defending himself.

I am sick and tired of people being terrible and getting a slap on the wrist because of their popularity. I turn around, stomping back to Steve who hadn’t moved from his spot, staring wide eyed and confused at the building of Hawkins Post. 

“I don’t know what that was or who you think you are,” I continue. “But if the person I saw back there is the real you. I will make sure Nancy stays far, far away. That I promise you, Harrington.” I threaten. Steve opens his mouth to respond but I cut him off quick. “Do you know how traumatic this is for her?” 

“Traumatic?” Steve shouts, staring at me in disbelief. “She cheated on me!” 

“No, she didn’t!” I shout back, defending my best friend. Nancy wouldn’t do that. She likes him too much. “You only caught a glimpse of something and ran with it.” 

“You didn’t see what I saw, Sin—” Steve’s words die in his throat. I squint, daring him to call me by my last name again. Steve shifts to lean on one leg, putting one hand on his hip and takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge between his nose with his other. He winces slightly, dropping his hand to his other hip and glares down at me. “They were sitting on her bed and he had—he had his arm around her.” 

I blink waiting for more information. Steve stares back at me waiting for my response. I frown. “That’s it?” 

“Yes!” He throws his hands up in annoyance. 

“That’s why you’re upset?”

Steve groans out of frustration, combing his fingers through his hair. “I know what I saw and I know what Nancy did!” 

“Did you ever stop and think maybe Nancy was confiding in Jonathan because they both lost someone important to them? Is that too hard to believe?” Steve scoffs shaking his head. “If you really believed she cheated on you, instead of running to Tommy, Carol, and Nicole, knowing how they are, why didn’t you just call Nancy and talk to her!” 

“I saw what I saw.” Steve says. His voice is quiet and even, but the anger and hurt in his eyes remain. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“So, because there’s ‘nothing to talk about’,” I use air quotes, mocking him. “You decided to slut-shame Nancy in front of the entire town.” I yell, extending an arm out, pointing with disdain at the source of irritation. “You’re sick!” I hiss, pointing at him before turning away.

“That was all Tommy, not me!” Steve yells. “I didn’t write that about Nancy!” 

I turn around rushing toward him. “But you didn’t stop Tommy from doing it and that’s always been my issue with you!” I cry, lifting my hands up in the air. “You never stop it. You never do anything. You stand there and let it happen!” Steve jerks his head back, drawing his brows together. I drop my hands down to my sides. “Whether you like it or not, everything falls back on you because you’re King Steve. You have this—this persona to uphold and you cannot choose when it does and does not apply to you because it always does!” 

“I didn’t ask to be King Steve.” Steve says between clenched teeth.  

“You look fine when you’re reaping the benefits when it serves you.” I point out. “But when something like this happens, when your back is against the wall, now it’s I didn’t ask to be King Steve? Give me a break!” Steve avoids eye contact, clenching his teeth until I see the tick in his jaw. “It’s so frustrating to see you act the way you do when you're around Tommy and Carol or any one of your stupid jock friends because I know that’s not you and deep down,” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “I know you know it too. I know you know better. You’re not like them, Steve.” 

Steve’s eyes lock with mines. The lines between his brows smoothen and I see that look again, the one I saw briefly in the alley. I stare up at him, swiping my tongue along my bottom lip and shake my head, looking up at the sky.

“Believe it or not, I think your better than them. You can be such a jerk—an asshole even, but you are better than them.” I speak softly, looking back at him. “Every time I start to think ‘maybe Steve Harrington isn’t that bad. Maybe he’s actually a good person’. You do something to make me take back my words and I feel foolish enough to believe you can be.” 

Steve draws his brows in sadly. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. “I am a good person.” He murmurs. 

“Are you?” I challenge, pointing at the marquee again. “Is that who you are? Is that who you want to be?” 

“I—” Steve trails off unsure of what to say. 

I drop my hand, crossing my arms above my chest to keep warm. I’m not wearing a proper jacket or any jacket; just a plaid shirt. 

“I know you’re embarrassed by the pictures.” I begin, swiping strands of hair out of my face as a gust of wind blows in our direction. “You were in them and your privacy was invaded just as much as Nancy’s. I promise you; I do not condone what Jonathan did and he knows that. It was disgusting and stupid. I’ve had that conversation with him. However, that is no excuse to say all those things about him and his family. I know you’re hurt because of Nancy, but, Jesus, Steve.” I look down at my shoes, kicking a pebble onto the road. 

“I didn’t mean it.” 

“You wanted that fight with Jonathan, admit it.” His silence is enough to confirm my sentiment. I shake my head. 

“You do realize he buried his brother yesterday, don’t you? His brother. My little brother’s best friend was buried yesterday and we still—” I stop, trying to catch my breath. I put my hand on my chest blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “We still can’t find Barb.” 

“Have you heard anything from the cops?” Steve asks. I don’t respond right away looking at the blood stains on his shirt. Flashes of the monster in the woods, eating that deer appear in my mind and I close my eyes trying to rid it from my memory.

“Diana.” My eyebrows twitch and I open my eyes. Steve is looking at me with such intensity my breathing becomes shallow. This is the first time Steve has said my name. The first time acknowledging me as a person, not just Nancy’s best friend. The way he says my name…the yearning in his voice. Keeping his eyes locked on mine, Steve licks his bottom up shifting uncomfortably back and forth. “Please.” He begs. “I know something’s wrong. It’s—It’s why I went over to Nancy’s in the first place.” He sighs in defeat. “I just want to help.”

Part of me believes him. The part of me who believes Steve is a good person. I want to tell him what happened to Nancy and I last night in the forest, about Jonathan saving us from near-death. I want to tell him about the police finding Barbs car at a bus station. I want to tell him everything…but I look at the marquee again. I can’t get too close to Steve. Suddenly becoming hyper aware of how close Steve and I were to each other. I blink, taking a step back creating space between us. Steve moves to take a step toward me, but decides against it. I fix my posture, shaking my head. 

“You can’t.” I say coldly, walking backwards and away from him. “You seriously need to figure out how to express your emotions because I don’t know how you come back from this. I really don’t. If I were Nancy, I would never want to see or speak to you again.” 

NEXT -> PART II

Taglist 🤍: @tinydramatist

[nastasya--filippovna]

WHO IS CROWLEY AFTER THE FALL (PART2)

Here it is finally.

So what is the Leviathan.

In mythology and theology the Leviathan is a sea-serpent and is mentioned in several books of the Hebrew Bible such as the Book of Job and Book Isaiah and Book of Enoch. The Leviathan of the Book of Job is a reflection of the older Canaanite Lotan, a primeval monster defeated by the god Baal Hadad. Parallels to the role of Mesopotamian Tiamat defeated by Marduk have long been drawn in comparative mythology, as have been wider comparisons to dragon and world serpent narratives such as Indra slaying Vrtra or Thor slaying Jörmungandr.

Once again we see the pattern of Biblical creatures being “inspired” from pagan ones.

Thomas Aquinas described Leviathan as the demon of envy, first in punishing the corresponding sinners. Peter Binsfeld likewise classified Leviathan as the demon of envy, as one of the seven Princes of Hell corresponding to the seven deadly sins. Leviathan became associated with, and may originally have been referred to by, the visual motif of the Hellmouth, a monstrous animal into whose mouth the damned disappear at the Last Judgment, found in Anglo-Saxon art from about 800, and later all over Europe.

In the Book of Enoch, The Leviathan is a female giant chaos serpent that lives deep in the ocean, while her mate, Behemoth, is a male giant chaos beast (based off of a hippopotamus or water-ox) who lives in the mythical desert of Duidain, East of Eden.

Ring any bells. Chaos mongering (fomenting), ox, eastern gate of eden…. 

The Hebrew word that translates to Leviathan (Livyatan) appears six times in the Old Testament. One of them is in Job 41. The word is derived from the root Iwy or ‘ twist, coil’ and means ‘the sinuous one.’ So I think we can establish that this creature is at least indicated to be snake-like. Scholars trace the etymology of whale and crocodile 

In the Book of Isaiah it is mentioned that the beast will rise from the water and will be defeated by God on the Last Day. However, quite interestingly nowhere in the Old Testament is the Leviathan written as evil. Only later scholars have equated it with the devil so that the battle between God and Chaos can be interpreted as the battle between God and the Devil.

Now let’s make this more interesting: The Gnostic sect venerate the biblical serpent of the Garden of Eden as a symbol of wisdom, which the malevolent Demiurge tried to hide from Adam and Eve. They identify the Leviathan as the serpent of Eden and in this belief system the Leviathan appears as an Ouroboros, separating the divine realm from humanity by enveloping or permeating the material world.

I mean I don’t even need to say anything further.  

And he does show up in GO Season 2. The matchbox.

Here 

When did this happen, I wonder……hmmmmmm

Oh YES!

Crowley wearing Aziraphale’s face

     

Here’s the rest of the passage from Job

1 Canst thou draw out leviathan with an hook? or his tongue with a cord which thou lettest down?

2 Canst thou put an hook into his nose? or bore his jaw through with a thorn?

3 Will he make many supplications unto thee? will he speak soft words unto thee?

4 Will he make a covenant with thee? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever?

5 Wilt thou play with him as with a bird? or wilt thou bind him for thy maidens?

6 Shall the companions make a banquet of him? shall they part him among the merchants?

7 Canst thou fill his skin with barbed irons? or his head with fish spears?

8 Lay thine hand upon him, remember the battle, do no more.

9 Behold, the hope of him is in vain: shall not one be cast down even at the sight of him?

10 None is so fierce that dare stir him up: who then is able to stand before me?

11 Who hath prevented me, that I should repay him? whatsoever is under the whole heaven is mine.

12 I will not conceal his parts, nor his power, nor his comely proportion.

13 Who can discover the face of his garment? (penetrate his coat of armor)  or who can come to him with his double bridle?

14 Who can open the doors of his face? his teeth are terrible round about.

15 His scales are his pride, shut up together as with a close seal.

16 One is so near to another, that no air can come between them.

17 They are joined one to another, they stick together, that they cannot be sundered.

18 By his neesings a light doth shine, and his eyes are like the eyelids of the morning.

19 Out of his mouth go burning lamps, and sparks of fire leap out.

20 Out of his nostrils goeth smoke, as out of a seething pot or caldron.

21 His breath kindleth coals, and a flame goeth out of his mouth.

22 In his neck remaineth strength, and sorrow is turned into joy before him.

23 The flakes of his flesh are joined together: they are firm in themselves; they cannot be moved.

24 His heart is as firm as a stone; yea, as hard as a piece of the nether millstone.

25 When he raiseth up himself, the mighty are afraid: by reason of breakings they purify themselves.

26 The sword of him that layeth at him cannot hold: the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon.

27 He esteemeth iron as straw, and brass as rotten wood.

28 The arrow cannot make him flee: slingstones are turned with him into stubble.

29 Darts are counted as stubble: he laugheth at the shaking of a spear.

30 Sharp stones are under him: he spreadeth sharp pointed things upon the mire.

31 He maketh the deep to boil like a pot: he maketh the sea like a pot of ointment.

32 He maketh a path to shine after him; one would think the deep to be hoary.

33 Upon earth there is not his like, who is made without fear.

34 He beholdeth all high things: he is a king over all the children of pride.

The Leviathan is a magnificent creature. And the very fact that God goes to so much trouble to describe the magnanimity of this creature is to show what God has created and hence Her magnanimity must be even greater in comparison for the Creator is always superior to the Creation. And if God can so easily abuse and humiliate this beautiful monster, then God must be worshipped and feared.

Though to the unsuspecting eye these passages may ring no familiar bells, a closer look makes you realize how Crowley-coded they are. And to think that in a story where Neil has never witten or shown anything that wasn’t woven in finely with the characters, I alwsy wondered why he chose the Book of Job for the minisode when he could have included any other one.  

But it reminded me that Crowleys character is truly unrelenting. He’s a nether millstone. He won’t give up that easily. He absolutely won’t submit to anyone, and he’s shown time and time again that his vociferous litanies about running away disappear as soon as someone or something he cares about is in danger (i.e. Aziraphale). And the second coming will also threaten his creation (the universe). His refusal to submit to authority, the refusal to be subjugated is the reason he fell in the first place. And quite interestingly he doesn’t own Hell either. He resists that too. For him it’s not Heaven or Hell that matters but the resistance to Power.  

I also think it’s also fitting that the Leviathan is perceived to be a monster that must be slain or enslaved but in reality is another of God’s creations just like the sun and the stars and the rivers and the mountains.  

And it makes me think of how Crowley has always been labeled as evil because he fell. I think of how, at heart, he is truly gentle and kind, he’s a starmaker. But his fall, his appearance, his desire to be autonomous and his grey moral campus make him feared and a target. And that has made him the embodiment of chaos. His refusal to submit himself to the uniformity of both worlds, to the rules and guidelines that create this illusion of order sets him apart from them. He embraces the chaos that grayness offers, that being ‘human’ brings. And hence the final battle will be between God and chaos with God justifies as being the battle between good and evil because, well, he’s a demon.    

The Leviathan being historically associated with the sin of envy is again I think written into the plot very carefully. He is envious of humanity’s ability to question God, to have choices to not be doomed to heaven or hell for all eternity. He is envious of what Maggie and Nina have. He’s envious of what Beelz and Gabe have.

“I mean if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together…..”

And then him rejecting Azirapahle’s offer— he has spent his life (a long, long life) rejecting power and authority. In his relationship with Aziraphale he found his sanctuary, a relation clean of power dynamics. Up till now they were both equal. But this new offer jeopardizes that.

And I love how his ego and pride come to play here. He would never accept being “second in command to anyone”. And his envy of how God’s mercy is free for some but wholly denied to him.